#i'm grateful it's been mild though my head is still weird

[continent-of-wild-endeavor]

According to the government and my doctor's guidelines, I am now allowed out in public, with a mask, because it's been five days since I started having symptoms and I don't have a fever any more. So I went out this morning & did the necessary errands that had been piling up. Then J called to say he was coming home early from a work trip, and would I take another test, because he can't afford to get sick in this busy season. I do still test positive, and not just vaguely either, so now it's masks at home & staying in opposite ends of the house.

I hadn't left the house since last Sunday morning, except once to go for a walk at the nature preserve down the road, and I've been here alone that whole time. (That's why you get so many posts - gotta talk to somebody.) I'm mostly better, but I won't be going out much for a while yet. Maybe to hike; that's safe, and keeps me from going stir crazy.

[covetyou]

the best of you, honey, belongs to me

part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) chapter warnings: dub con, unprotected P in V, oral (f receiving), creampie, choking, spanking, mild praise kink, potential assault, derogatory names (slut), drug reference, unspecified age gap. word count: 5.5k chapter summary: Joel Miller is an asshole. An asshole and a liar. Right?

A/N: HOLY SHIT I DID IT I FINISHED SOMETHING. I did it Ma!

Thank you all so much for sticking with me this month. Your support has been silly lovely and I genuinely love you all a little bit.

Ty to @iamasaddie and @jupiter-soups for being the first people to cheer me on from the sidelines. You both made me excited about my own writing, which feels weird but I'm very grateful to you.

I hope you like it, thank you, goodbye, see you soon, I love you.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

song: NFWMB by Hozier

Joel Miller was a massive fucking liar, you'd realized.

You probably would have been able to guess that before, but as you were stood here, back pushed against a brick wall in an alleyway, it was clear as day.

You'd been dragged down here by two men - a small rat like one and a taller one with a mean look on his face - and thrown against the wall. Your back smarted, and you tried to reason with them, but they were tugging at your clothes and threatening you before you could think of anything useful to say.

They were torn off you as quick as they were on you.

And now, heavy fists were pounding into them, beating into their faces and stomachs as they slouched pathetically against the brick opposite. Joel had found you, somehow noticed in a crowd of people that you were suddenly gone. He had someone with him, they looked similar enough that they could have been family, and both were beating into the men that had dragged you down the alley.

A yelled threat and the two men were hobbling away, beaten and bloody and holding onto themselves in their retreat.

"You okay?"

You're looking at Joel, so it takes a second to register that the other man is addressing you. You slowly turn to him - definitely related - and nod. You're stunned and a little winded more than anything.

Joel is flexing his fist, staring daggers at you. His companion doesn't say another word to you, but you hear him talk in hushed tones to Joel, before Joel mutters something back to him and he walks away.

You should probably be more scared of being alone down an alley with Joel Miller than the other two guys but, though it confuses you, you feel safer than ever. He'd protected you, saved you, and that's how you knew that Joel Miller was a fucking liar.

"C'mon," he growls to you, walking away and expecting you to follow. Of course, you follow, even through the low lying anger and frustration that's still simmering in your belly.

As you walk behind, you watch as he clenches his fist and flexes his hands over and over. Before you know it you're outside his apartment block, being roughly dragged up the stairs by a heavy hand on your arm, dragged down a corridor and deposited in front of his front door. He doesn't look at you as he fishes his key out from an inner pocket on his coat.

"Saw you fuckin' lookin' at me, I told you not to do that shit," he says angrily, throwing you into his apartment and slamming the door closed behind you.

"They hurt you?" You shake your head. "They touch you?" You shake your head again.

His nostrils flair. You can almost hear the bones in his hands creak from how hard he's clenching his fists.

And so you poke the fucking bear again, because what is there to lose. You'd spent all week mulling it over, getting angrier and angrier as you talked yourself in circles. He didn't like you and you definitely didn't like him. You didn't want to kiss him, but also you did. Neither of you cared, but maybe both of you did. Everything was feeling like a lie and all you wanted was the truth. So you poke, bracing yourself for impact.

"You're a liar," you whisper, pulling at the sleeves of your coat.

His eyes immediately snap to yours, and he's making quick work of the distance between you. He's toe to toe with you when he stops, looking down at you, fists still firmly clenched at his sides.

"What did you fuckin' say to me?"

You swallow before you speak again, meek as a mouse but a fire in your belly. "You're a liar. You said you wouldn't look out for me."

"S'that why you kept lookin'? S'that why you got yourself in trouble? To prove some fuckin' point?"

You frown at him - it hadn't been intentional. You were glaring at him when they grabbed you, stuffing a gloved hand over your mouth to keep your scream from being heard. The people around you didn't care, didn't stop what they were doing or go for help. They just left you. But Joel came anyway.

"You think I asked for that?" you say, trying to keep your voice from cracking. You never have and never will cry in front of this man, not like this anyway. You watch as his mouth curls to sneer at you, the fire turning into a sick feeling bubbling up through your belly as you watch his lip raise.

You don't know what comes over you, but you push at his chest, wanting to touch him and get him away from you in equal measure. It takes him by surprise, the force of your push making him stumble back.

You both stare at each other, unmoving for a beat, both shocked that you'd dare to touch him let alone push him. You think maybe you should run, get away before he gets you, but your reactions are slower than his, and you're raising your arms to protect yourself as he makes one big stride over to you.

The blow doesn't come.

He's pulling at your coat, jerking it down your arms, before tugging at the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. It gets caught, and you hear a tear as it catches on your arm, but he keeps pulling anyway. The fabric splits from your body, tattered and ruined as it's discarded on the floor.

"You think I would fuckin' hit you?" he says angrily as he tugs at the rest of your clothes. "You think I would fuckin' hurt you in any way you don't want?"

You have no time to answer before he's manhandling you again, pushing you roughly into his room.

He pushes you forward onto his bed, bending you over and holding you there as he reaches around and tugs at your zipper. You fight to stand, but the weight of his hand keeps you in place as he pulls your pants and panties down in one, leaving them around your knees so you can't run to escape even if you wanted to. Any thought that you could, should, run is already gone. You don't want to, not any more. Whatever he wants to do, whatever anger he has for you, you want it. You want to feel his anger, you want it to burn into yours until you combust.

A hand claps down on your ass and you feel the sting ripple up your back. He wanted that one to hurt, and it did. Another sharp slap hits your other cheek soon after, the sting of pain made worse by your cold skin, but you're glad for it because you wanted that one to hurt too.

Both his hands rub across your cheeks, drawing a groan from you as he massages them and soothes the sting before rough fingers pull you apart. He always did like looking.

He wastes no time in plunging his wet tongue into your pussy from behind, Joel's hands yanking your pants down the to your feet to spread you open further for him. "You're fuckin' dripping," he says between breaths as you push back into his face.

"You this wet from those guys?" You don't answer, so he slaps a hand down on your ass again.

"Fuckin' answer me."

"N-no. M'not wet from them."

"Then why," he says, breathing deeply as he devours your pussy, the cold of his nose tickling your hole as the scruff on his jaw scratches at your inner thighs. "Tell me. Tell me why this needy fuckin' pussy is so wet."

"Because of you," you push your face down into his bed, biting at his sheets as his tongue swipes over your clit, already so sensitive your legs are shaking. You arch your back, exposing more of your cunt to his relentless tongue. There's no question or thread of shame in your mind why you like this - why you're already so close to coming undone just from him being an asshole and playing with your pussy.

"Me, huh? Little hole's desperate for me? Look at her cryin' out to be stuffed full, drippin' all over the place."

You couldn't help the drip of slick from your cunt, or the way his words always worked to make it worse. You knew you were a mess, but by now you knew he liked it, even if he taunted you for it. You felt how his grasping hands got firmer, saw as his cock got harder, just at the sight of your glistening pussy.

Two of his thick fingers are pushing into you, the cold feel of them startling you as they slide home. You'd spent a week thinking of his fist buried in your cunt, but his fingers still felt so thick, so much, plunged into your dripping wet heat as they were.

"If you make a mess on my sheets I'll rub your fuckin' nose in it. Act like an animal I'll treat you like one."

If you were an animal, he was fucking feral - a snarling, growling, feral animal of a man that you just couldn't resist.

His fingers curl, dragging against your walls harshly as his tongue slides against your clit again, swirling around the stretched rim where his fingers are embedded in you, tasting you, before slurping at your clit once more. You grind your hips back against his face, trying to get more friction on your clit as he fucks you with his fingers. They're warmed now, the burning heat from your cunt drawing the chill from his bones.

The wet squelch in your cunt is obscene as he laps at your clit, drawing you so close already, your feet still tangled in your pants and your moans muffled by the push of your face into his sheets.

Joel's fingers are gone just as your orgasm starts to raise its head over the horizon, ruining any high you were so close to getting. You slam your fist down on the bed in frustration, ignoring his gruff laugh as you muffle your fuck into his bed. His knees crack as he stands, undoing his belt and pulling his cock from his pants. He doesn't stroke himself, he doesn't need to, he just squeezes himself at the base, lines himself up with your hole and pushes forward.

A strangled moan pulls from your chest as he sheathes himself, pulling your hips back flush with his as his cock impales you in one movement.

"Fuck, if this pussy don't just love this dick."

He draws back slowly, pulling any slick from your cunt back with him, coating himself in you, before slamming back to the hilt.

"Uhh, f-fuck."

You feel him draw back again, holding himself back from you, tip barely inside your cunt, teasing himself at your entrance. Before he can, you push back onto his cock, taking him in with a deep moan.

He stifles a groan, fingers digging into your hips, pinching the flesh in his grip. You try to move, to fuck yourself on his length, but his grip won't let you. You can feel him throb inside you, and you hope he's already close to coming, that he wants you that much he can barely hold himself back.

The thought is gone as soon as he starts pulling back again and thrusting forward quickly, repeatedly slamming his hips into your ass and pulling you back onto him. The sharp slap of his hips and wet squelches of your pussy are muffled only by your moans and Joel's shaky breathing.

"Tell me - you fuck anyone else - like this," you say through staccato gasps as his cock collides with your cervix. "If you say you do - I'll know - you're even more of a - fucking liar."

He throws you forward, pulling out and standing glaring down at you when you twist to look at him, finally able to kick your pants and shoes off your feet.

"You think you're special?" he growls. You take him in, his massive figure stood there still clothed, cock hanging lewdly from his pants and covered in your slick. You want to lick it, taste your own pussy on his cock and catch the drip of precum from his tip before it's wasted.

"No. I'm not. And neither are you," you spread your legs as you say it, willing him to come back, to start fucking you again, but not daring to ask for it. "You're an asshole. I just like that you make me feel good."

"Feeling's mutual, sweetheart." He's pouncing on you before you can process it, yanking his shirt over his head before pulling your spread thighs across his clothed ones, notching at your entrance and sliding straight back in.

You thud back down onto the bed with the force of his cock fucking into you, staring up at him with an open mouth, panting as he starts to cant into you once again. His hands are holding your thighs against his as he rocks so deeply into you you think you can see your lower belly pulse with each movement.

His hands slide down your thighs, pulling you apart where his cock joined with you, swiping a thumb up the slick gathered there and rubbing it around your clit in rough circles. You reach down, hand trying to meet his and hold him there, but he swats you away. You move further instead, grabbing at the waistband of his pants and tugging down, slipping them over his ass before he's pushing you back again. Your fingers drag across his abdomen as you fall back again, watching a shudder crawl through him with the graze of your fingertips.

You try not to smile when his hand falls from you and shimmies his pants further down his legs, over his knees and kicking them off the end of the bed whilst still buried in you. You can see all of him again now, his broad shoulders, dark nipples, the trail of hair down to his cock where it disappears inside you. His thick thighs, spread almost as lewdly as yours, dusted in hair, the muscles flexing with each rock into you. He doesn't look at you as you drink him in, eyes focused on your cunt as he pulls you back open.

He spits down onto your clit. You whine when it collides with your skin and starts to trickle down your spread pussy. You whine again when his thumb draws it up and around your clit, massaging it into you, each swipe of his thumb jerking your swollen nub and bringing you closer to coming undone as he pounds you hard into his mattress.

You throw your head back with the feeling of it all, moaning loudly into the open room.

"You'd let me do anythin' to you, huh."

"Yeah," you admit, head still thrown back and eyes closed. You would, you couldn't even say why, just that you knew you would. That for all the pain at the end of the world, this was a pain that was worth it, a stretch that made you ache in the right ways, the sting of his palm that electrified you, made you feel alive.

"You're just beggin' for me to slap your pussy pink again, ain't you? Fill that pretty little asshole up with my cum. Wear you like a fuckin' glove." He's growling, muttering obscene things to you, things you both know to be true. "You'd let me fuck you anyway I want, even share you with whoever I want."

You nod, stupidly bobbing your head along with the rhythm of him sliding into you.

"This pussy is mine," he growls. "Say it."

"Yours!" you pant, you didn't want it to be anyone elses any more, what was the point when he'd ruined you for anyone else. "M'yours!" Fuck.

"All o' you? That's more than I even asked for sweetheart."

And he's falling forward over you, hands planting either side of your head for leverage as he pounds into you harder than he ever has, abandoning your clit just as you were about to fall apart underneath him yet again. Any words to correct yourself are gone as you groan, pulling your brows together and watching him. His face relaxes and contorts over and over, sweat beads at his temples. You know his hair would feel damp if only you would reached up to touch it.

He shifts to his elbows, the sweat from his chest and belly mingling with yours, making your bodies slick as they slide together. You watch his mouth open as he pants, the heat of his breath on your face cooling the sweat dripping down your neck. You can smell him, see every imperfection of his skin in such detail that you're struck dumb, angry, and desperate all in one swoop. Something so close still feels so far away, and a frustrated sob is bubbling from you before you can stop it.

Something inside you snaps with that. You'd be chasing it for weeks, denied something you hadn't even dared to ask for.

You grab him by the throat as his hips roll into you, gasping out a breath before you grit your teeth and say it, forcing him to look directly at you.

"Fucking kiss me."

He laughs in your face and you fight down the shame for even daring to ask for something you wanted, something you deserved. "Is that what you want?"

You nod, squeezing his throat beneath your fingertips.

He pulls back from you - you want to claw at him and hold him to you but he pushes your hand against his throat with his own. He looks down between you, your pussy creaming around his cock and swollen clit twitching with each thrust.

You tighten the grip on the sides of his throat, feeling the hard thud of blood through his veins at your fingertips, drawing his eyes back to yours.

"Fuck, that's it, sweetheart."

He suddenly throws your arm down from his neck, pinning both if your hands down as he puts his weight on top of you.

"That what you want?" he grits out. "That what you keep coming back for? Thought you were whoring yourself out for pills, not a fuckin' kiss. Are you that fuckin' desperate?"

He's goading you, you know he is. Still, you want to scream at him, but his face is close to yours now, so terrifyingly close you could kiss him by accident if you weren't careful. Suddenly you're terrified of it, desperate but terrified.

His aquiline nose slides up the side of your face, and you stop breathing. "You want this?"

"Please." You'll be angry at yourself for begging later, right now you'd say anything if it meant he'd finally give it to you.

He drags his nose across your face, rubs his nose against yours. He's practically still inside you now, the shallow rock of his hips the only movement either of you are making. "You sure?"

"Please," you whisper again, breath ghosting across his lips. You try not to move your mouth too much, barely muttering the word in case your mouth touches his. His own breath huffs against your mouth, teasing you with the taste of him.

"S'all you want, huh?"

"Mm." He's so close you don't trust yourself to speak.

His nose nuzzles into yours, the hair on his face tickling at your sensitive top lip. Then you feel it, the bow of his top lip swiping against yours, not kissing just feeling.

You're frozen, terrified to move, terrified to feel what you've been desperate for for months.

But you made it through the worst days at the end of the world. What was fear any more except another lie.

You press your lips forward, done with waiting, done with being patient, done with putting others first. You want it so badly that finally, finally, you take it.

At the first press of your lips to his, he releases your wrists, sliding his hand down the curve of your body to hold you to him. You moan into his mouth, blinking back angry tears as you wrap your own hand around his neck to pull him in further. At first he doesn't move against you, letting you kiss the soft swell of his mouth, but when you slip your tongue against his bottom lip and breathe him in, his mouth opens and his lips press to yours, giving back everything you're taking.

"This all you wanted this whole time?" he whispers against your mouth.

"Not all I wanted," you mumble. Your eyes are closed, head dizzy from breathing so deeply, from finally doing the thing you'd literally only dreamed of.

"No?"

"No," you swallow before continuing, the shame of admission gone now. What shame could there even be when it was so obvious. You open your eyes just as you speak. "I wanted all of it."

"Yeah?" You think from the look on his face that he needed to hear it as much as you needed to say it, so you kiss him again, just because you can.

He presses his hips into you harder, making you gasp straight into his mouth, the sharp pressure of his cock so much with the fuzzy high in your head. He does it again, kissing you of his own volition this time and swallowing your moan down as he starts fucking you again, one hand settling in your hair as the other wanders your body. You can still taste the salty sweetness of your own pussy on his mouth as you lick into him.

Your own hand dances with his over your body, teasing your own nipples and stroking down, down, until you push your hand between your bodies and feel between your legs. You're a mess, sweat and the wetness from your pussy merged together to create a slip and slide of slick as he slides his cock into your tender hole. You stroke at the base of him and feel another shudder work its way through his body before you move your hand back to yourself, circling your own clit as he rocks his length into you.

"You gonna make yourself come on my cock?" he says, looking down where your hand strokes at your clit. You nod, lips brushing his, capturing him in another kiss as you moan, so close already.

"Good fuckin' girl. You rub that pretty pussy. She just fuckin' loves this dick." True.

His cock in your pussy, his hands in your hair, holding your body, your own hand strumming your clit with well practiced movements, the feeling of his lips on your own. It's all so much so quickly, everything you've been craving for so long, that the fire in your body burns so bright it explodes out of every pore before you can hold it off.

"F-fuck, Joeeel."

You come with a cry, every part of your body shuddering and convulsing, hand twitching over your own cunt as you desperately try to keep the high going as long as you can, until you're so sensitive all you can do is grip your own thigh, your nails creating half moons in the soft flesh.

"You're all mine, huh?" he says gently, still inside you now as he feels your walls pulse and twitch around him. You nod, floating from his kisses and your own high. "No one else gonna touch this pussy. S'all mine."

"S'yours."

"Needy, needy, pussy," he grunts into your mouth, as your cunt quivers around him, an aftershock pulled from you at just his words and the rasp of his coarse hair against your clit.

It hits you then, for all he called you needy you never actually asked for what you wanted, what you needed. You never took it either. Not until now. But he always did.

"I think you're just as needy as I am," you whisper.

He clicks his tongue and cocks his head. "I never said I wasn't, sweetheart."

A quick shuffle of his knees later he's pounding into you with abandon, your cunt had barely stopped throbbing by the time he started again.

"Ohhhh, god."

You don't move to kiss him again, he's chasing whatever high he needs now and you let him take it, back arching, moaning as he pounds away, cock slipping inside you with ease. The hand in your hair pulls harder, tugging your head back. You think this is going to be it, he's going to come inside you like this, but then wet kisses are being peppered across your neck and collar bone, his moans sounding more like those of a common whore than his usual grunts.

You want to come again already, so you grip him tight, hands roaming from your body to his arms, his shoulders. Your nails claw at him, pulling him closer and pushing him away, trying to tear him apart with your bare hands as he fucks you.

He moves quicker still, head buried in the crook of your neck as he holds onto you and slams home over and over. You think he's almost there - hope he is because how much more screaming can your voice take before it breaks - when he's yanking your hair again. His mouth latches to your own in a sloppy kiss, tongue fighting with yours and his cock squelching into the wet heat of your pussy as he comes undone, groaning into your mouth, shuddering, fucking ropes of thick cum into your empty cunt and never stilling for a second.

His hips stop bucking against yours before his mouth does. He kisses you softer, groaning, slowing down to catch his breath before he finally removes his lips from yours with a shuddering gasp, screwing his eyes shut.

Cum practically gushes out of you when he pulls out, and you expect him to get up and leave like he has every time before. He doesn't. Instead, he rests his head next to yours, kissing your shoulder, the warmth of his body encasing yours.

Your face finds his, nudging against his jaw. He shifts, letting you in, and your mouth finds his again. You kiss him until you turn to liquid, sighing deeply and tracing soft patterns on his skin and your own with your fingertips.

Eventually, he releases your hair, and you think the moment is truly over. But then he rolls over, flopping down next to you, the weight of him dipping the mattress and making you shift closer to his side. He closes his eyes, putting an arm behind his head, and you take the chance to look down at his naked body, his cock now soft between his legs.

The feeling that bubbles up through you rips out of your mouth in a laugh. Joel's eyes fly open, finding yours, making you laugh harder. Tears are falling from your eyes - the absurdity of it all too much to bear. So angry at him, at yourself, for weeks now. Wanting something for so long, something that it turns out you could have just reached out and grabbed. Driving yourself near mad over wanting to be touched in a way you thought he never would, when maybe all along he thought you never wanted it. You're left with nothing but small giggles and an aching belly by the time the feeling bubbles out of you completely.

You wonder how all of this must look to him. How small and naive you must look, just a silly girl giggling in his bed. If he thinks it, he doesn't voice it. He just shakes his head softly and raises an eyebrow at you, as if to ask if you're done.

You lie next to each other in silence after that. He doesn't tell you to leave, and you don't move to either. You just lie there, arms barely touching, sweat drying and cooling both of your bodies.

You'd always been okay with silence, more often than not finding yourself with nothing to say, especially these days. But something in this moment tells you to speak, and so you do, filling the silence with your own voice before the opportunity can be taken from you.

"Thanks for helping me out there," you start softly. "I know you said you wouldn't, and I'm not trying to prove a point I just... Thank you. I was looking at you. I couldn't help it. I've been... angry. At you, yeah, but mostly myself. So I was looking, but I didn't realize it was that much, I swear and I -"

"S'okay," he stops your ramble so simply and quickly you frown, an involuntary tut falls of your mouth. He casts a glance over to you, almost chastising as he continues. "Ain't lyin' when I say it though. You gotta stop lookin' at me. I really can't be lookin' out for you, just got lucky this time. There's assholes bigger than me out there."

"Doubt it," you scoff. He raises an eyebrow and runs his tongue along his teeth, daring you to say more. You don't.

You fiddle with the sheets between you, biting at your cheek and bottom lip, so much more to say but the words just ending up jumbled in your head.

"I wasn't lying either. When I said I want it. All of it." That's a start, you figure.

"You don't want me. I could be anyone."

"Maybe I don't. Never said I did. I just know that I want whatever this is," you gesture between the two of you. Whatever had started as a transaction was clearly more than that now. You enjoyed the feel of him, the way he touched you and talked to you. You enjoyed the escape of it all. It was nice to know another person in the world knew you were there, that you existed, cared about you in some way, even if it was only enough to make sure you came. "Sex was never really any good with anyone else anyway."

"I've got other people I have arrangements with. I've got Tess, I've got -"

"I know. That doesn't matter. I'm not asking you to change. I don't want anything to change. I just want..." you trail off, shrugging. "I just want this for me. I don't care what it is for you, as long as it's good too."

He looks at you, taking you in with curious eyes, working out if what you're saying is true. If really, in this moment here and now, you want this exactly as it is. "I can do that."

You think that he gets it, understands it all more than you could ever explain. The thought of that alone is more comforting than any touch he could give you. It could have been a sweet moment, if that's what you two were. But it's not, and still he ruins it anyway.

"Pussy really is no one else's but mine, huh?" There's an edge to his voice that tells you he's holding back a laugh, and you could fucking hit him.

This time, you do. You relish in the oof that leaves his body as your hand collides with the side of his chest. He catches your wrist before you can land another soft blow, your skin prickling in his firm grip. You know from the feel of his hand and the look in his eye that you'll fuck him again before you leave his apartment today.

It only takes a few minutes for you to prove yourself right. You climb on top of him all soft curves and bouncing tits, hair a mess, face scrunched and jaw relaxed as you ride him, kissing him as much as you've ever wanted. Even when your legs ache, when he starts fucking up into you with each bounce of your hips, you carry on, wanting to take from him again and have him fill you.

He never tells you to leave, but eventually you get up, putting your clothes on, tucking your torn t-shirt around you. You expect your dad will be wondering where you've got to soon.

Joel sits and watches you dress until you're stood fully clothed, looking at him lying nude on his bed, a total contrast to what happened in this room just a week ago.

You think for a moment, waiting as he gets up and walks with you back through his apartment. You take in the last few hours. The last week. The last few months of knowing Joel Miller.

"Joel?"

"Mm."

You look him up and down as you stand in front of his door, still naked as the day he was born. "You're a massive slut, you know that, right?"

He laughs. Full bellied, head back, laughs.

"Takes one to know one, sweetheart," he says with a smirk, winking as he unlatches the front door.

You kiss Joel again as you leave his apartment. He can't stop you now, and you don't think he would ever even try.

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[moonstruckme]

Ayyy I'm back with another request

No hurry on this, though, because you wrote me an amazing one not long ago and I want you to have some well-earned rest.

Anyway, can I please request a poly!marauders where the r has glasses and they see her without her glasses for the first time. I wear glasses and am mildly insecure about wearing them and taking them off. It's a vicious cycle😭 I'd adore having some lovey-dovey boys fawning over me regardless of my eyewear

Thanks a million

-🔮

Here you go my love! Thanks for requesting <3

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 925 words

You touch your middle finger to the bridge of your nose, pushing up frames that aren’t there. You feel immediately silly. How long will it take to kick that habit?

You have to admit, it’s nice to not have to worry about your lenses fogging as you stir the boiling water, or your glasses slipping off when you peer into the pot to check on the pasta. Still, this new freedom feels oddly like it’s come at a cost. It seems a bit ridiculous to miss your glasses, but it’s been years since you’ve been without them, and you feel sort of naked. Your face looks different in the reflection of the microwave, nothing obscuring the area around your eyes. It’s odd to see yourself so clearly without anything in the way. 

The door opens, Sirius’ voice booming. “You’ll never believe what happened on the way home.”

“What?” you call, and you can hear him kick off his shoes in just any direction, the thump thump thump of them bouncing on the floor. Later, Remus will straighten them with a patient sigh. Sirius’ footsteps head for the kitchen.

“This guy stopped me to ask for the time, and I told him, and he said—whoa. Hey baby, what’s new?”

You smile down at the pasta. “He called you baby?”

“I…what? No, you’re baby.” Sirius shakes his head before you look up and he realizes you’re messing with him. Never one to lose the upper hand, he fixes you with one of his suaver looks, eyes narrowing until they’re mostly gray and a smirk twisting his lips. “Don’t play coy with me, pretty thing. You think you can distract me from all this?” Triumph sparks in his eyes as you feel your face warm, and he presses on. “Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?”

You roll your eyes, opening a cabinet door between you to grab the olive oil. “It’s my Clark Kent plan. You’re not supposed to recognize me, so I guess it’s not working.” 

“Takes more than glasses to fool me, sweetheart.” His voice is silky smooth, but when you close the cabinet, he’s studying you. “It’s a good look. I like you both ways, obviously, but variety is the spice of life or whatever. Maybe we should get James to switch it up every now and then.” 

Remus emerges from down the hall, drawn out by your voices.

“Moons, have you seen this?” Sirius asks. “Someone’s replaced our girl with one who has working eyes.” 

“Not working eyes,” you correct him, self-conscious as Remus comes over, his eyebrows lifting slightly, “an old glasses prescription. I’m switching to contacts until I can get a new pair.” 

“You look nice,” Remus says, that mild, effortless kindness in his tone. “Does it feel different?”

“Weird,” you agree, taking the pot off the stove. Remus anticipates you, bringing the colander to the sink, and you give him a smile of thanks. “I feel like Velma from Scooby Doo, you know? Like my eyes look like tiny little dots without them.” 

Sirius scoffs, and Remus' voice is lightly chiding when he says, “They’re not. You look just as lovely now as you did with them on.” 

You barely have time to blush before Sirius is upon you, stepping into your space. “And,” he says, “let’s try this.” He kisses you, and you can’t claim you weren’t expecting it but you’re far from ready, grateful for the support of his hand at your waist as you feel your knees go a bit wobbly. Sirius presses his mouth into yours heavily, nose pushing at the skin of your cheek. When he pulls back, you feel like you’re reeling. “See? Much easier without those wide frames in the way.”

“You’re the worst,” you say, and Remus chuckles as James steps into the kitchen. You hadn’t even heard the door open. 

“What, without me?” he asks, taking in you and Sirius’ proximity and the wetness of your lips. Then hardly a beat later, “You’re not wearing your glasses.” 

“She needs a new prescription,” Sirius says, stepping away from you to pour the strained pasta back into the pot like nothing’s happened. “She’s wearing contacts for now.” 

“Whoa.” James moves closer, looking at your face like he hasn’t had the chance to really inspect it until now. ���So when you get your new glasses, can we help you pick?”

Sirius whips around in his excitement, and Remus moves him aside before the pasta can start to stick, adding olive oil and the herbs you’d cut up to the pot. “I hadn’t even thought of that,” Sirius gawps at you. “We have to, it’ll be so fun.” 

You try to imagine it, your boyfriends focussing intently on your face as they assess which frames suit you best. It’d be the peak of flattery and awkwardness. “Okay,” you say, busying yourself with getting water for everyone. “I could use the extra input.” 

“I’m sure whatever you pick will look great,” James promises, taking a couple of cups from you with a kiss to your cheek. “If you want, you should pick up some more contacts while we’re there, too.”

“Maybe,” you muse. “But which do you like better—with, or without glasses?”

“Either way, dove,” Remus hums, dishing out his helping of pasta. “The differences are tiny, and it’s still you.” 

“Yeah, I can’t pick,” Sirius agrees, getting in line behind Remus. “You can do your Clark Kent bit all you want, but you’re gonna look like our gorgeous girl both ways.” 

[beca-mitchell]

little taste of heaven (i'm caught up in you) (1/1)

Summary: now i see daylight AU - Beca and Chloe’s first date, finally. 

Word count: 3.9k

For @anna-kendrick​: We've worked on this universe for the past year and holy, it means the world to both of us that you guys love Beca and Chloe as much as we do. Thank you so much for the encouragement and love, always.And of course, again, thank you to Josi who is an incredibly talented artist. Look at this art.

title from "untouchable (taylor's version)" though I did heavily consider using "our song"...i just liked the energy of untouchable a bit more.

Read below or on AO3!

* * * * *

AGE: 15/16 LOCATION: Brookline, MA MONTH: June

 * * * * *

 It is finally June. The warm air is only a hint of better things to come. Like the last day of school before total freedom.

Beca smiles at Chloe as she nears Beca’s locker. “Hey,” she greets. “Good practice?”

Around them, students mill about excitedly, cleaning out their lockers and making plans for the summer to come. Chloe shrugs, hair clearly still damp from her shower. “I don’t know why we keep running through practices when we have no more games for the season.”

“Got to keep the regional champions in top shape,” Beca teases. “Keep the other teams on their toes.”

“But I’m tired,” Chloe complains. She leans heavily on a neighboring locker. “Since it's the last day of school, will you come over tonight for dinner? My parents are whining about how they haven’t seen you in a while.”

Beca clears her throat, thinking about how the last time she had gone over to Chloe’s house had been when Chloe and Tom broke up...at the end of April. Over a month ago. She had gone because Chloe had been crying and upset. She had gone because even if her body ached with the anxiety of not knowing where she and Chloe stood, she and Chloe were always going to be friends first. Best friends.

Best friends who felt something more than friendship for each other. Confirmed, real feelings. Feelings that made them want to kiss each other.

Feelings that they hadn’t yet talked about. Or acted on despite both of them being extremely single at the moment.

Hell, Chloe's birthday came and went a couple weeks ago without much fanfare. Beca had been too shy to do anything remotely romantic and they ended up going to a movie with a few friends before going to an arcade.

“Bec?”

Beca nods stiltedly, pretending to contemplate her now-empty locker a bit more before turning to face Chloe. She steadies herself with a quick breath. “I’d love nothing more.”

 * * * * *

 Beca stares at her reflection with some trepidation.

“It’s just Chloe,” she mutters to herself, eyes tracking over every crease in the skirt she has picked out. Maybe I should go with jeans, she thinks. But it’s gross and hot out today.

She isn’t even sure why she’s nervous. It just feels like a return to normalcy of sorts, but Beca’s pretty sure that now that she knows what it feels like to kiss Chloe and what it feels like, a little bit at least, to know that Chloe feels somewhat similarly to her. It’s different. In a good way. Maybe it’s different in a scary way.

She isn’t even sure she can bring up the topic with her mother, so that’s an added layer of uncertainty: it’s additionally anxiety-inducing not knowing how her mother will react.

It’s well past the time that Beca should have already walked out the door to head next door by the time she actually forces herself out of her bedroom and down the stairs, but she figures Chloe will understand. And dinner is rarely ever prepared at the exact time stated in the Beale household anyway. Beca’s not too worried. Just nervous.

She finally reaches out to press the doorbell.

Chloe opens the door almost immediately. “Thought you got lost,” she teases.

“Were you just waiting behind the door?” Beca asks quickly, allowing Chloe to grab her wrist and pull her over the threshold.

“And if I was?” Chloe shoots back, offering Beca a lazy smile, playful in nature. With an underlying hint of something else.

Beca blinks the surprise away. “I wouldn’t be complaining if you were waiting for me. Just sorry I kept you waiting,” she offers.

“Dinner’s not ready anyway,” Chloe says, as Beca expected. They breeze past the living room area, taking a mild detour past the kitchen and towards the back porch. “I might have told you a slightly earlier time because I wanted to talk to you about something,” Chloe says lightly.

“Should I say hi to your parents?” Beca asks worriedly before it registers what Chloe just said. “Wait, what? Talk to me about what?”

“Come sit with me,” Chloe says instead. Patiently. She gestures towards the tree - the tree they used to play under all the time as children - nestled in the corner of the backyard.

It’s one of Beca’s favorite spots.

She follows Chloe, wondering if it’s too late to run home and change into her jeans because she’s sure the grass and sticks will prick at her skin, but she’s surprised, as they near, that there is a small blanket laid out underneath.

Chloe had planned for this.

“Please sit,” Chloe offers. She sits comfortably, patting the spot next to her. “I had a feeling you’d dress up a little. Didn’t want you to get a dress dirty.” Her eyes drift down to Beca’s skirt briefly before she lifts her eyes, smiling at Beca. Beca doesn’t feel self-conscious, shockingly. She feels content. Safe.

Maybe a little warm if anything, but she knows that’s probably the proximity to the girl she’s been crushing on for the longest time.

“I...wanted to talk to you because we haven’t...really talked. About...y’know.” A hint of nervousness creeps into Chloe’s voice. “When we kissed and then Tom…” she hesitates. “We just didn’t get to talk about anything. And now the school year’s pretty much over, so I thought…”

“Right,” Beca agrees quickly. Her palms begin to sweat. She sure as hell hopes Chloe doesn’t expect her to lead this conversation. It was mortifying enough the first time around when she had basically laid everything on the line while Chloe was still dating somebody else. When Chloe had left her with nothing more than a heartfelt, vulnerable don’t give up on me. Then she had broken up with Tom and that was all their school could talk about for weeks.

And now this. Somehow Beca survived all of that while slowly making sure her friendship with Chloe survived as well. They both made sure of that.

“I like you,” Chloe declares. “I mean...I think I always did. Like you, I mean. As more than a friend. But the feelings were really confusing.”

“I get it,” Beca says a little too quickly. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, laughing a little when Chloe smiles at her. “I feel like I haven’t stopped thinking about this for a while. But I never wanted you to feel pressured to talk about this with me even though we kissed.” She ignores the way her voice totally cracks over that last word.

“I never felt pressured,” Chloe assures her gently. “I am so...grateful that you’re in my life. I didn’t want to mess this up. But I think we should...try.”

“Try?” Beca echoes.

Chloe blushes. Like a full-on blush that spreads across her cheeks, visible to Beca even in the dying daylight. It makes her cheeks rosy and Chloe even flinches at her own reaction. “Dating,” she says simply once she seems to regain control of her emotions. “I want to go on dates with you. And hold your hand. And more kissing! If that’s what you want.”

Beca’s sure that her heart explodes somewhere in her chest because she suddenly finds it very difficult to control various parts of her body. She can’t control the smile that spreads across her face and the following, matching blush in her cheeks. It heats through her face with ease. And even worse, she can’t control the way her hand comes up to her mouth as if to instinctively cover her smile because somehow being thrilled that her crush is basically asking her out making her body react in embarrassing ways.

Chloe laughs at her, not a hint of malice in her laugh. Just joy. “I take that as a yes. Thank God, I wasn’t sure how I was going to convince my parents to move away.”

Beca rolls her eyes. Finally. Teasing. She can do that. “You wouldn’t be able to leave me. You like me too much.”

Chloe’s smile grows soft. “Well...yeah. I do. A lot.”

Beca’s breath catches. She’s sure she could kiss Chloe right now and the crazy part is, it wouldn’t even be totally weird. Or out there. Because they’re going to start dating. But maybe kissing Chloe again before their first date is frowned upon? Beca has no idea. She’s still only ever kissed one person and that person is sitting in front of her.

“Girls! Dinner!”

As if Chloe had been reading her mind and her intentions, Chloe shakes her head and stands, offering a hand to pull Beca up. When Beca stands, they’re somehow even closer - almost nose to nose - than they had been when they were sitting. “Saved by the bell,” Chloe whispers, breath close enough to be felt on Beca’s mouth.

 * * * * *

 The most interesting part is that Beca hadn’t really thought about any of this - dating Chloe - beyond just vague daydreams and fantasies about just some kind of happy utopia with Chloe by her side. It’s honestly not much different from their usual day-to-day considering how close they already are, but dating? Actual dating?

Her Google search history stares back at her accusingly.

dating tips dating best friend first date first date movies dating girl what to do

She supposes she could ask her mother, but even that brief thought makes her shrink away from her desk. Beca stands and begins pacing. She’s sure that she’s overthinking this all. That Chloe could probably care less about what they do on their first date. That Chloe’s probably just expecting them to spend time together, just the two of them. With more handholding. And maybe a kiss at the end of the night.

“Shit,” Beca mutters suddenly. She rushes back to her computer, adding another search to her list.

kiss on first date ok???

She frowns. Not quite.

kissing before first date acceptable

In the end, she is saved from her descent into a hole of online searching by a text from Chloe herself.

Chloe dinner tomorrow at south street? haven’t been downtown in a while

Beca i’m down!

The ease at which Beca replies does not at all reflect the somersaults in her stomach.

 * * * * *

 “Hey,” Chloe calls, putting her menu down. “Where’d you go just now?”

Beca blinks, realizing that she had glazed over the menu entirely, too wrapped up in her own thoughts. “Oh, just...contemplating…” her eyes land on the first item she sees. “Salad.” She can’t help the way her own nose wrinkles instinctively at the thought of eating salad.

Chloe is as intuitive as ever, smiling as she reaches across the table to touch Beca’s hand. “You hate salad. Especially here.”

Beca swallows, struck by both the normalcy and intimacy of Chloe’s touch. They’ve been friends for years—there is nothing extremely off-putting about them holding hands or even just randomly touching each other on the arm, shoulder, knee.

And yet—

Chloe draws her hand away, seemingly not at all aware of Beca’s inner turmoil this time. She refocuses on her menu. “Want me to order something for you?” she asks instead.

Beca nods, though she is surprised. “Sure.” Now she’s curious as to what Chloe will order for her. And if she’s being honest, it kind of makes her feel giddy, the thought of Chloe knowing her well-enough to order something. Not that Beca would even bother with telling Chloe that she’s wrong. She’d eat anything at this point, just to spend more time with Chloe.

It’s not even like they’re at a fancy restaurant. It’s a diner downtown. The bright retro designs all around plus the comfortable, plush booth seats are all appealing to Beca and she likes the general atmosphere.

But she kind of wants to just…

“Can I sit next to you?” she blurts out. Immediately, she clamps her mouth shut, resisting the urge to avoid Chloe’s curious gaze, which lifts to meet hers immediately.

Chloe grins. “I would want nothing more. Get over here.”

Beca nearly sags in relief, but focuses instead on moving around the booth so she and Chloe are sitting closer, now on side of the booth.

Beca focuses on the frequent piece of advice she had found through a few somewhat reliable Google results.

Hold her hand.

Beca does. She inches her pinky across the cool vinyl seats until she can feel Chloe’s against her finger. Then, she slips her hand over Chloe’s, gently hooking her fingers on Chloe’s palm until Chloe gets the idea.

Chloe’s hand flips slowly, their palms touching. Beca exhales, sliding her fingers between Chloe’s, already liking the easy, comfortable fit of their hands.

Chloe says nothing, content to enjoy the silence and familiarity just as Beca is content to allow her feelings to take over. For a moment, Chloe appears to be perusing the menu in silence, but there is a steadiness to the set of Chloe’s shoulders. Beca can tell, having been so attuned to Chloe’s characteristics for longer than she’d like to admit. For longer than even Chloe herself knows at this moment. She glances at her date—her date!—selfishly taking the moment to appreciate Chloe’s profile.

It’s something she has done so many times before, but this time...this time, in a diner outside of town with the soft clatter of dishes around them and Chloe’s soft, warm palm against her own, Beca knows this is different.

“You know,” Chloe starts awkwardly. “I...obviously don’t mind if you ordered on your own.”

Beca laughs. “Why’d you offer to then?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe says, exasperation in her voice. She groans and hangs her head slightly. “I asked Max and-”

“You asked your brother what to do on a date with me?”

“No!” Chloe explains before she snorts. “I just...told him I was worried about impressing a girl. And I don’t know why, but I somehow thought he’d have some idea.” She grins a little, glancing at Beca out of the corner of her eye. “Did it work?”

“Maybe a little,” Beca says distractedly. She’s more fixated on the fact that Chloe must have been truly desperate to have turned to her older brother for help.

“Oh and he totally guessed I was going out with you, by the way.”

That’s not something that thrills Beca too much. Her imagination immediately conjures up a comically exaggerated vision of Chloe’s brother threatening her with a knife. “How?” she asks. “What did he say?”

“Nothing, really. He just kind of guessed and then said ‘finally’ or something like that.”

“Well, thank you for offering to order for me. It was very...chivalrous of you.”

“Please stop.”

“Quite charming.”

“Beca.”

“I can’t wait to see what other moves you try on me. Are we going to share one milkshake?”

“...no?”

 * * * * *

 They end up ordering two separate milkshakes because Beca sticks to her vanilla and Chloe orders chocolate.

“Try,” Chloe commands. “You always get vanilla. Chocolate is so good.”

Beca sighs, but obediently sticks her straw into Chloe’s cup despite Chloe’s protests of “contamination” and quickly takes a sip just to shut Chloe up for the time being. It’s not horrible - Beca just isn’t the fan of how chocolate tastes in milkshake form, though she’s sure Chloe will claim there’s no difference if the milkshake were in a solid chocolate bar form instead.

However, she’s mildly distracted by the sudden proximity she and Chloe have between them. Chloe’s arm rests loosely over her shoulder, where she had put her arm when Beca leaned in to drink from Chloe’s cup. She can practically feel Chloe’s breath on her neck and her cheek.

It would be so easy to just turn and -

Beca shakes her head slightly and shifts back. Chloe takes a moment longer to slowly move her arm from around Beca’s shoulders.

“What?” Beca asks quietly, poking at her fries a little. She catches Chloe smiling at her affectionately.

“Nothing,” Chloe replies quickly. “Just...you smell nice. That’s all.”

 * * * * *

 “I guess it’s kind of convenient that we live together,” Beca remarks, trying not to think too hard about the way Chloe’s hand feels in her own. She winces. “Well. Not live together. But…you know. Live next to each other.”

Chloe tilts her head, smiling as they walk up the path towards their houses. “And why is that convenient?” she asks lightly.

Beca blushes. She hadn’t thought this far. “I’m…I don’t know. I was just…commenting. On the convenience.”

Chloe giggles, pulling Beca closer ever so slightly. Beca likes the way their arms press together. She likes holding Chloe’s hand. She likes lifting her other hand to curl against the bend of Chloe’s elbow.

She likes knowing that Chloe likes her—really likes her—and Chloe enjoyed their date and—and—

“This is you,” Chloe murmurs, stopping in front of Beca’s door.

Beca kind of doesn’t want the night to end. She wants to sit on the porch and talk to Chloe for a few more minutes. Maybe one more hour. Just to hear the sound of her voice and have her attention for a few moments longer.

“This is me,” Beca parrots, feeling a lot more nervous than she thinks she’s letting on. That was what people said in those movies adorning Chloe’s shelves, right? It was what the internet said. Normal first date cliches. She steps backwards, under the light of her front porch, still holding Chloe’s hand as she does so. Chloe hesitates for a moment like she wants to follow, but ultimately she simply squeezes Beca’s hand in understanding and drops her own hand away.

Beca is immediately disappointed. She hadn’t wanted that at all. She bites her lip, watching as Chloe awkwardly shuffles her feet before she glances back up at Beca. A soft, slow smile spreads across Chloe’s lips, gentle and affectionate all at once. It makes Beca’s heart pound ridiculously hard.

“I had fun,” Chloe whispers, like she’s afraid somebody else will hear her. But not because she's afraid of other people. Just afraid that their bubble will burst, like Beca is. Another step closer. Beca swallows. “Can we do that again?”

“You’d want to go on more dates?” Beca asks, just to clarify, even though she knows exactly what Chloe’s asking.

“I would love to go on more dates with you.”

“Me too,” Beca squeaks out. “I—um—”

Chloe’s smile stretches, somehow happier than before. “Goodnight Beca.”

Something in Beca snaps. She steps forward, just two small steps and calls out Chloe’s name. “Wait,” she adds hastily.

Chloe stops and turns, surprised.

“Can I—” Beca swallows, licking her suddenly dry lips. “Can I kis—”

She doesn’t get to finish her question before Chloe is covering the ground between them in two short strides, wrapping her hand around the back of Beca’s head, letting the other come up to Beca’s arm, and kissing her for all her worth.

Beca gasps in surprise into the kiss, hands coming up to Chloe’s shoulders, squeezing tightly. Gently and slowly, Chloe presses further into the kiss, her lips moving ever so lightly against Beca’s. It is so much more than their first kiss—a do-over, if anything—and Beca realizes, with a jolt, that this is something she can do now. She can kiss Chloe because Chloe likes her and Chloe went on a date with her. Chloe held her hand all night.

Chloe wants to kiss her too.

Beca hums happily at the thought, looping her hands behind Chloe’s neck. It feels instinctual even as Beca blushes at the sudden intensity of the kiss. She knows Chloe has kissed more people than she has; she knows Chloe will forever have more experience in this regard. But God, Beca thinks that she has never felt more wonderful or powerful than she does in this moment, tightening her grip on the fabric of Chloe’s light jacket.

Pulling back ever so slightly, Beca heaves a breath and rests her forehead against Chloe’s forehead. Chloe’s breathing is the tiniest bit labored as well. For a moment, neither of them dares to move, too afraid to break the spell between them.

Chloe is the first to smile—the first to press forward ever so slightly so their noses brush delicately. “What were you going to ask?” Chloe murmurs.

Beca swats her shoulder lightly. “You’re so weird,” she mumbles back, leaning in to steal just one more kiss from her beautiful, wonderful date.

 * * * * *

 When Beca reaches the solitude of her bedroom, she finally gets what all those high school romcoms were about. Showing their protagonist thrilled to finally finish a date so they can squeal and giggle and simply dream about their crush or date. It’s probably the first time that Beca has felt her energy rebound around her room with such happiness and positivity. The sensation is addicting—she honestly just wants to text Chloe all night.

Which, honestly, she could.

Chloe kissed her. Chloe kissed her because she likes her and they just went on a date. A freaking date.

A text from Chloe jolts her back to reality.

Chloe i miss you, is that weird?

Beca no because i miss you too. weirdo.

Chloe i have something else to tell you. that might be weird. Idk

Beca go for it.

Beca watches the text bubbles float in and out on her screen, like Chloe is typing a paragraph. Despite Chloe just saying that she missed her, Beca can’t help but feel nervous.

Chloe I just wanted you to know why i picked south street. it’s because. well. Remember when we first went there by ourselves without our parents. Sometime last year. With a few friends. And we all squeezed into that booth and sat there and shared fries and milkshakes and felt like we were at the top of the world because we were finally in high school or something stupid like that. I don’t even remember much about that night or who we were with but i do remember seeing the way you laughed at something and how your entire face lit up. and i remember thinking that i really liked you and how scary it was that i felt these things for you so suddenly and so much. Like a lot. but i’m so glad that we both got to this point - that we both feel the same way. I just really loved the way you looked when you laughed and i am so happy you’re in my life.

Chloe also i really like kissing you

Beca doesn’t even bother replying.

She shoves on her shoes again and rushes out the front door. She is only surprised to see Chloe sitting on her own front porch, staring worriedly at her phone.

“You really are so weird, y'know that?” She calls out, careful not to startle Chloe too much.

Chloe does jump anyway, but she sets her phone down quickly. “What are you doing?”

“Finishing this date off again that you confessed your big scary feelings. Through a text message.” Beca pretends to be annoyed as she stomps over to Chloe. “You couldn’t have said all that?”

“You make me nervous!” Chloe exclaims.

Beca shakes her head, mustering up all the courage she has in the world, pulling Chloe in for a kiss like she wanted to earlier before Chloe beat her to it.

“So much better,” Beca whispers, smiling when Chloe huffs quietly against her mouth.

It's the perfect end to the beginning Beca has been dreaming of all this time.

fin.

[gh0sture]

Under the Sea

Trafalgar Law x gn!reader

Part 2, Meet the gang

You've never been particularly good at meeting new people or making good first impressions for that matter but this, by far, has to be your worst one yet. Your clothes are soaked still, your hair a sticky mess from the saltwater and your mouth is opening and closing lika a fish gasping for air as it flaps around on a bridge after being caught. It's not one of your best looks you'll admit but it is all you can offer at the moment given the circumstances.

You try to form coherent thoughts, you really do, but this is just way too much for you to take in. He reaches a hand out and you flinch before grabbing it to make an awkward shake.

This isn't just insane. This is completely knock-your-socks-off bonkers.

You feel as if you were looking at the golden gates of heaven themselves, not daring to look him in the eyes out of fear that you might go blind from the sheer radiance of his aura meanwhile the man in question just looked at you blankly. Possibly with a hint of disgust. Definitely a bit of disgust.

"The name's Trafalgar Law, captain of Polar tang" his handshake is firm and he looks at you expectantly while retrieving his hand and crossing his arms over his chest.

Neither of you say anything. He clears his throat but you give no reaction. Still staring at him like a five year old looking at a blackboard of university level algebra equations. He grimaces slightly at your behavior.

"Are you ok? I don't remember finding any trauma to your head, you should be fine" he grabs your chin and tilts your head around to inspect it disapprovingly in search of an injury. Although, he is an expert doctor so he would never miss any injuries, his pride wouldn't let him. This does nothing to soothe your symptoms though and doesn't exactly help with calming your heartbeat at all.

"I wouldn't have missed anything what's wrong with you" he mutters to himself when you finally managed to collect yourself enough to remove his hands.

"uhh no! no, i'm ok! thank you for ,uh, saving me by the way" this is the best and worst thing that have ever happened to you.

"it wasn't my choice" he deadpanned and turn back into the room to get a den-den mushi with a familiar penguin hat on it. Its so strange seeing on in real life. Although, you don't know if this is real life (is it just fantasy?). He proceeds to make a phone call (mushi-call? den-den call?) into it while you shift awkwardly on your feet in the hallway. Your feet ache from walking on the metal grid barefoot you had barely noticed until now. After exchanging a few words he walk over to the desk where he'd previously  been sitting and open a journal, presumably to continue doing whatever he did before.

"One of my crew members will be here shortly to get you settled for now and give you some necessities. We reach a port in nine days where you can leave." his voice was calm and composed, like pouring molten chocolate into your ears even though the words themselves were less than pleasant. When he spoke you could feel your knees get weak and you feel tempted to ask him a question for the sole purpose of hearing him speak more. God this man was hot. You nodded at his statement at first, not really paying attention to what he had actually said until you realized that nothing he said had been actually registered in your head.

"Wait, what?" you asked. He doesn't look up from his writing but you can hear the mild annoyance in his voice when he answers.

"Looking at you, you are rather ill equipped for staying here until we reach a populated island. Since you don't have any money or anything valuable, my crew will provide for you until we reach the port where you can find another ship to go back wherever you came from...Whatever weird country that's supposed to be...Now go down the hallway, He should be there already to help you so leave me alone" you get the feeling that you'll loose a limb if you stick around longer so you turn to head down the hallway and find "Him" who you hoped would be more polite.

"Not that way" you hear from the study and you turn around to head down the other way, somewhat (very) embarrassed.

You really wished that your first time meeting a celebrity would've gone better, but then again they do say that you should never meet your heroes. Was he always this rude in the series and book? Sure he came across as a bit of a tsundere but he seemed at least approachable in the series. You don't have the charisma or extroverted superpowers that Luffy have so that is probably an important thing to consider. As you head down the hallway you come across a man walking in your direction pretty soon. He seem far more ok with your existence and even appear to lit up a bit when he sees you and give you a friendly wave. This is already going a lot better than last time.

"Yo! You're the one we found floating around yesterday! Nice to meet you, people around here call me Penguin" He gives you a wide yet genuine smile as he grab your hand and shake it enthusiastically before you even have the chance to reach out.

"thought you were a goner when we found you haha!So it's good to see that you're up n' about, c'mon let me show you a round!" he turn around to walk from where he had just come from while you follow behind him silently.

Penguin makes it his personal responsibility to keep a conversation going even if it's pretty one-sided but it's nice. Comforting even, as he went on about how nice the other crewmembers are with the exception of the captain but you shouldn't take what he says too personal as he's a bit misunderstood. He  ask you different questions like your name, where you came from, complimenting you on your weird clothes, although it feels like that was mostly him being polite and you didn't have heart or energy to tell him that you're wearing PJ's. He doesn't mind your short answers and seems satisfied with the information he's able to divulge. To be fair you aren't sure how to answer since you don't know how you ended up here but also out of fear of ripping the space-time continuum open by telling him forbidden knowledge about his universe. It would be rather awkward explaining to him that you know a lot about them and what they've done/are about to do. You've technically stalked them through tv and books and if someone told you that they've been watching you, you would freak out. Rightfully so too. They might even think that you're a navy spy sent to gather information action for their arrest and they could kill you. Yeah, this is a mess and a half but you'll burn this bridge when you get to it. You did tell him your name though and he doesn't seem to suspect you working for some nefarious organization so all is well.

He showed you where the important places in the submarine was such as the kitchen, living quarters, rec area and bathrooms. You still have trouble telling up from down will undoubtedly get lost but he assures you that after a while you'll know this maze like the back of your hand. After leaving the living quarters he guides you to the top deck to find someone else he says will help you so that he can get back to work.

The yellow ship had surfaced at a deserted summer island and everyone was outside enjoying the sun after spending several days in the dark of the ocean. You hadn't been down in the submarine for that long , at least not while being conscious, and was already getting a bit unnerved over how cold and cramped it was. As soon as the warm rays of light hit you both the cold and your worries melt away.

"Hey Ikkaku! You have to help the drifter get some clothes!" He yelled at a woman laying in a sun-chair on the deck with her eyes closed. The familiar heart pirates uniform was open to reveal a green tank top and an orange and yellow striped hat was laying beside her.

"Haah!? Why do I have to do it?" She sat up to glare at Penguin and was about to protest when she spotted you behind him. One second you were hiding behind Penguin and the next you're face to face with a very pretty woman with very poofy hair. Her glorious lion name bounces a bit as she hold up both your hands in hers and lean over a bit to stare into your eyes. Everyone is so tall here why is everyone so ridiculously tall. Anime proportions are wild.

"Oh my god!! We were so worried about you, we thought you were dead when we found you!" You felt uncomfortable with her being so close to your face and politely thanked her for saving you while doing your best to avoid eye contact.

"Oi! Where's your manners! They've been through a lot being stranded in the ocean have some respect!" He bops her on the head and she lets you go to tell him off (and/or punch him back) but she remembers the shiny new toy in front of her and settles for staring daggers at him instead.

"Oh shut yer trap" She stares at you intensely as if to make sure you wouldn't run away or vanish into thin air. It's kind of nice being fawned over like this, and clearly the crew enjoy having a visitor.

"It's so nice having a fresh face around, It's been years since Captain let anyone new stay onboard  and being stuck with all the same jerks weeks on end gets a bit tiring you know. Now come on and let's go find you some proper clothes!" She grab your hand to drag you along back into the dark,dark depths of the submarine.

Oh joy. more cold, feet grating and claustrophobia.

"You're a bit smaller than everyone so we should probably ask Uni to sow it in for you if it's way too big" She says more to herself rather than you while handing you the classical white uniform with the heart pirates logo on the chest over your heart.

The woman who's name you had learned to be Ikkaku turn around and continued rummaging around the small closet in front of her in search of more clothes for you while you change into the white uniform when she isn't looking. It feels incredible to finally get out of those damp and sticky clothes and into something soft and warm instead. You are also the proud owner of a pair of fuzzy socks and black boots. Your poor abused feet are overjoyed that they no longer have to walk the metal grid of a thousand needles. Life is good.

"Once we get to the port of Pellar island you can probably trade your way to some more clothes but this should be fine for now"

In the little time you had spent with her you had learned quite the few things about the crew on the ship. For starters there were 21 members in the crew (including the captain), You were lucky number 22 according to Ikkaku, even though you aren't a part of the crew it's apparently better to have an even number of people aboard the ship. And hearing the stories of what they've been through it seems like you're their new rabbits foot. Since you're considered baggage or fancy cargo rather than someone useful she gives you some times on how to stay out the way, especially out if the captains way which you feel is probably a wise decision but you offer your help should she need it in the kitchen which she greatly appreciates. You hate feeling useless.

You can't help but wonder where you are in the Once Piece timeline as you rolled up the long sleeves of the uniform on your arms and legs for comfort. Had Luffy and Law already formed the alliance? Were you before the timeskip and the incident at Marine Ford? Maybe you were even ahead of the manga and anime itself in a future arc even. You were snapped out of your thoughts when Ikkaku pushed a bundle of toiletries into your arms involving a towel, a toothbrush, and a bar of soap.

"We haven't figured out where you'll sleep for the moment but it'll work out soon enough. Otherwise you can just sleep in a spare bed in the infirmary but come help me gather food from the island! We don't want to get scurvy while we're submerged!" She drag you away towards the deck after leaving your things in her room for safe keeping for now.

This woman is going to pull your arm off.

She seemed very sweet but all the touching and stereotypical anime arm-pulling is weird since you have literally just met. The way she smiles while asking you about your favourite foods and how she excitedly plan different recipes out loud make you almost forgive her though. Almost.

You move sluggishly towards Ikkaku's room to get the only material items you currently own in this world. Foraging for fruits and herb until nightfall was tiring but at least you didn't have to carry that much stuff, a guy with a black pompadour haircut had come along to help carry the crates of stuff you and Ikkaku gathered. He seemed very nice too, somewhat cocky though. You had asked Ikkaku for information on a certain Straw-hat pirate while making small talk and have come to the conclusion that he probably hasn't even started his adventure towards becoming the Pirate King yet. She didn't know who you were referring to and was even showed some seagull newspaper from their library but no info of the gummy monkey man could be found whatsoever. Since you recall him making news very early on in his "career" it's fair to assume that he hasn't gotten up to his mischief yet.

It feels a bit weird to be honest. To be in the prologue of the story like this and you have no idea what kind of things anyone other than the Strawhats and Luffy had been up to since the story followed them, maybe some vague details about Law's past and fragments from some characters backstories but this is all uncharted territory. Your thoughts are interrupted as you suddenly bump into someone and fell backwards. You reach your arms out like a bad imitation of a seagull in attempt to grab the wall but someone grabs you before you manage to take hold of anything. Your grab their shoulders to steady yourself and let go once you're back on your feet but they don't remove their hands from you. You look up to thank them for catching you when all the colour drains from your face and you realize who you're standing prom-slow-dance proximity to. It is but the one and only person you'd least want to embarrass yourself in front of. Again.

"Do you have a death wish or are you just plain stupid 22-ya" He looked down at you with what you assume to be the ghost of an amused smile or slight disgust. Probably disgust. Again. while you're distracted by his closeness and the humiliating event that is currently taking place. It could be much worse though, right? you can salvage this situation probably.

"Crap, sorry I was just zoned out.." You tried looking anywhere but his oh-so-handsome face to avoid you making this anymore awkward than it already was. You are not immune against handsome people after all. You tried moving away from him slightly but his hands stayed firm on your shoulders and could feel his gaze on you like needle pricks on your skin. you definitely do not dare looking him in the eye.

"You have to look where you're going or you might get seriously hurt next time" He mused. He may be attractive but he's definitely a jerk.

"It's impossible to see down here it's so dark..." you mutter under your breath and quickly move to side to walk past him, he let's go this time rejoice that your attempt to escape the harassing captain is successful, desperate to get away from this weird atmosphere you have created. Unfortunately for you, the universe have other plans  as he start walking behind you in the same direction you are and boy, is it awkward.

After a bit of walking you start to get a bit suspicious though. Was he following you around, waiting for you to get lost so that he could make a smartass comment about it? He is the kind of person who would find great amusement in petty bullshit like that for sure but then again you do have a tendency of assuming the worst in every situation. You decide to test this theory out by steeping to the side and make as much room as you could in the hallway and drop down to pretend fixing your shoelace. Instead of trying to walk past you he stops completely right behind you. You move as slow as you can without arising suspicion but he so kindly wait patiently behind you. When you're done "tying your shoelace" and stand up to continue your journey he follows close behind.

Oh hell no.

You can handle rudeness but this is some psychological warfare or foul play that you want no part of. No matter how handsome the guy is you will not stand for this kind of fuckery. You make a sudden halt and quickly turn around to kindly tell him to fuck off.

"Do you need something from me?" you ask with as much calm you can currently muster, irritation building up behind your customer service smile but he doesn't say anything and only look at you with the same dumb face as before. Almost like he's sizing you up before a fight. Possibly with even more disgust this time.

This Motherfucker.

When he still doesn't say anything for several seconds you just decide to be the bigger person and turn around to start walking again. Of course, with him still following you. It's better to just ignore him and he'll go away, you know where you're going. You finally reached Ikkaku's room and gather up the few items that belong to you when he finally speak up.

"You don't have a room assigned yet right?" You gave him a somewhat puzzled look. That's what he needed to know? That is why he followed you?? To ask you this???

"No? why?" You admit cautiously, almost preparing for him to start fighting you or using his power to "confiscate" one of your organs. For a brief second you could've sworn you saw a mischievous glint in his eyes you know that something bad is brewing. The cogs of evil are turning in his mind and you know that whatever comes out of his mouth next will undoubtedly mean bad news for you.

"I have an idea"

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

In My Mind (Part 3)

Only warning is mild language. I'm not sure how many more parts will come. Maybe 3. Maybe 6. We'll see.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

"How do we find someone without a face, a name, or an idea where they went. It's been two days she could be anywhere. It's like chasing a ghost." "We don't." You eye him carefully and he clarifies, "She found you before. If she has something to say, she'll find you again." Erik didn't seem the type to let something like this hang unattended so why would he move on from this so easily? Maybe there really was nothing else you could do to find her.

"Assuming she was real," he adds, "We need to consider illogical options since this is an illogical situation." You continue to stare at him. He was calm and handling all the 'weirdness' gracefully. "If you're okay, I'm okay," you say and you get a text. It's from Lia. You have a braiding appointment and your last customer is there waiting. You'd forgotten all about her. "Shit! I gotta go back to the salon. I forgot I had one more client." He slips his shoes back on and downs the rest of the water in his glass. You walk out to the living room leaving him behind and as you open the front door you hear him move fast to the kitchen putting the glass in your kitchen sink and he jets ahead of you pulling you by your hand down the staircase and down to the ground floor where you exit. He doesn't free your hand once you emerge. "Uh uh, what you coming with me for?" He pulls you to his car and closes you in, clicking your seatbelt. "You gone keep that lady waiting," he chides stopping your protests. He drops behind the wheel and speeds off shortening the already short trip back to the salon. The second the car goes into park, you leap out unsteadily and he follows as you burst through the salon door. "I'm late, I'm so sorry. I'll dock $10 from your total." You look up and instantly drop the keys in your hand on the floor. "It's you," you gape and the woman smiles in response to your surprise. You turn to Erik and he's gone. Everyone else is gone. It's just you and this mysterious lady in the empty shop that's gone dead silent.

"Nia," her warm voice echoes and you feel peace and calm radiating from her form. Her eyes are tender and full of kindness. "Nia, I have been sent by your God to guide you. You have been graced with a great gift to assist with your great purpose, and now you must demonstrate your capability." God sent? Is she an angel? You notice her shadow looks nothing like her, it has six arms and large wings. "Help N'jadaka. Help him find peace. Do this and then your purpose will be revealed." "N'jadaka? Oh, Erik. But how? What do I do?" "How'd you know that name?" You turn around and it's Erik looking at you like you've lost your mind. When you turn back the woman is gone. You grab his forearms. "Tell me you saw her." He squints and shakes his head. "I saw you drop your keys and freeze, then you said my name. What she say?" From the corner of your eye Glenda is staring at you this time blatantly. "I'm fine, just dropped my keys. Clumsy, you know," you offer with a matching clumsy shrug and she doesn't seem to buy it. "I thought you were going home. What you doing back?" The second part of that seemed to be aimed at Erik. She doesn't trust him, it's clear. You look at Lia and she's shaking her head. "I already cornrowed your client, remember? You done for the day. Go home. Get some sleep, you definitely need it." She turns her attention to Erik, "Iunno who YOU are and why y'all so close all of a sudden, but make sure she gets some sleep."

---

"They think I'm fuckin crazy," you groan from the passenger seat. You're holding on tightly to your seat as the car moves aggressively. Erik had taken it upon himself to drive while you told him about your encounter with the mysterious woman. He passed your apartment complex giving you more time to talk while he rode around. He didn't want you to leave a thing out.

"So you supposed to be my psychologist.. Help me find myself and shit," he mumbles and you're also not sold. It sounds ridiculous. "I don't know, but apparently you need peace because you don't have it. So let's just work on that." The car turns onto a highway and you watch the signs before turning to look at Erik's face. He's just chillin on the surface.

"You're taking me somewhere aren't you." "Yep." "Where?" "What that sign say?" You look at the upcoming sign that says EXIT and has a bunch of fast food and restaurant logos. Thank God, because you could eat a cow. He pulls into a restaurant called Bear's Den. It's a black owned restaurant, you think. When you enter, a lot of the staff is black and the menu is so country. It's comforting. Erik orders lemon pepper chicken with a salad and fruit cup. You order chicken and dumplings with a pineapple casserole, something you'd never had before. You let Erik try the casserole, but he wasn't feeling it like you were. You mostly ate in comfortable silence with minimal verbal conversation. However, nonverbals were high as you exchanged meaningful glances and facial expressions. He was trying to read you and you were trying to understand him. He requested the check and rejected your money when you offered to pay for yourself, which was perfectly fine by you. You'd eaten your fill for free. "Go to the bathroom before we leave to go back. You drank a lot," he says and you raise your brow. "I'm appreciative that you bought me dinner, but that's a little too personal for you to be worrying about." "And my dreams and my life ain't personal?" He shoots back. "I didn't invade your mind on purpose though." He nods in the direction of the restroom and you roll your eyes. Raising from your seat you walk to the rustic multi-stall restroom and actually empty your bladder. Maybe it was good that you went. When you resurface, he's not in the restaurant and you walk out to find him in the car. Buckling yourself in, you brace yourself for his crazy driving and somehow, you still aren't prepared. Then you notice that this is not... the direction of your apartment. "Where we going now?" The car moves aggressively and quickly further away from home and he takes his sweet time responding, apparently in no rush.

"Airport."

Airport.. Airport?

"The fuck? You leaving so soon?" He couldn't leave! You still hadn't figured anything out. "You're coming with me." "The hell I am." "You gone help me or not?" His volume is rising. He's serious. "How long? I need to talk to cancel my appointments." "Indefinitely, for now." "FUCK.. this..," you trail off angrily tapping at your phone screen. How selfish of him to expect you to uproot your life, possibly lose your client base, and follow him to tend to his mental health issues. You said you would help him, but you meant on your terms, not his. "Do you understand that I have bills, shop fees, clients, and in short.. a life outside of this? Do you not care?" His shoulders roll and and he takes the exit to the airport. "I got you. Don't worry about it." He's so cryptic. 'Don't worry about it,' right.. You go through your Styleseat and cancel everything, silently fuming. He'd better 'have you' or there'd be hell to pay. Trained killer be damned.

---

"So you're just gonna leave your car?" "It was a rental," he chuckles. "When did you buy me a plane ticket?" He ignores you, but this ticket says you're going to Oakland, California. You'd never been to the west coast, but now you're placing his accent. He drags you past security and you have no luggage, but they wand you briefly. You have to take your shoes off too. Then you board and he gives you the window seat, which you're grateful for.

The fluffy cotton clouds are so full, they look like you could jump onto them, wrap yourself up and sleep. But the sky is darkening rapidly so the sights are getting increasingly tougher to see, clouds included.

"While you're playing shrink with my PTSD, I want to test this ability of yours some more." That doesn't sound promising. You face him and that familiar feeling of trouble washes over you. He plans on using you for personal gain, IF he can get a handle on how your newfound ability works. It's disheartening, but you hold the cards. "Erik, I told you everything I knew about the situation. This isn't something you can manipulate to work how you want." His small dark eyes narrow and shoot darts through yours. You don't waver. You can see his complicated mind scheming behind those eyes, but then they soften. "Lotta people sleep on this plane. Try to get in someone's head. If you can't, it's okay but just try." He's not going to leave you alone about this. You close your eyes and draw a deep breath in, releasing a long breath through your nose. You relax yourself in your seat and rest your head against the window. You push all thoughts away, trying to make things as silent as possible and then you focus. You're searching for a vibration, a visual, a feeling. Everything goes black and then it suspends.

Black. Black. Black. A sunny field of white lillies. "Nia, wake up we here." Your head snaps up and you open your eyes willing them to focus. You watch Erik put away earbuds and pocket his phone. People are standing in the aisle with luggage waiting to exit and you jump up. "Erik, you didn't sleep did you?" "Nah, but you did for three and a half hours." Your eyes search for who it could've been, but there's no way to tell. No one's wearing lilly printed clothing afterall. But then an elderly white man stands in the row behind you and Erik and it looks like he could've been sleep. "I saw something" you tap Erik as it's your turn to exit the plane, and he follows your eyes to the old man. Awe lights his face but then a dark glee darkens it. He pulls you behind him off the plane by your wrist and you wait behind him until the old man appears. "Ask him what he dreamed about," he whispers hurriedly in your ear. "You ask him!" "If I ask him he gone see nigga and have a heart attack. You ask him."

Rolling your eyes, you fix a faux sweet look on your face and jog lightly up to the old man, gently grabbing his attention. "Excuse me sir, this is an odd question, I know, but.. did you happen to dream of a sunny field of white lillies?" Your eyes plead your silent apology and his look baffled. He shakes his head subtly and doesn't respond, but his surprise tells you that's exactly what he dreamed of. His pink finger points at you. "How did you know? Are you a magician?" She shake your head and walk away rejoining Erik. You grab his arm leading him past the old man who is still staring at you in confusion. "He dreamt of lillies. I saw it. It was him," you whisper. The corner of Erik's mouth lifts and his eyes shine, but he says nothing else. "I know what you're planning," you whisper still clutching his arm because he hadn't pushed you off. "Do you," he toys. "I don't know the specifics, but I can tell you I'm not helping you profit off of me." "What if I just want you to profit? You don't like money?" "This is a gift from God. I won't abuse It! You're gonna heal and find peace and then I'm a figure out some deeper purpose. Stick to the plan.. N'jadaka." That name earned a light humored jolt out of him. He likes that name. "Is that a chosen or a given name?" "Given." You watch his face for more information knowing he can feel your stare, but putting two and two together you think it goes back to his parents. "I'll tell you more when we get to my place. You'll see it all anyway."

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[cherrystreet]

hey! i was just thinking, that i've been listening to the songs harry requested on radio 1 and they've been stuck in my head for so long omg. and like, i'm not connecting the songs he requested to larry, but with each song a little scenario ab them plays in my head! was wondering if you could write little snippets based on a couple of the songs? sweetest devotion by adele and issues by julia michaels!

I got really carried away with this; I combined both of these songs and very subtly put a few of the lyrics into a mess of 3k. I hope this works for you xx

Louis watches the build up and break over a period of months. Years, even. Harry’s tired. They both are, but Harry’s exceptionally so. He’s been working nonstop on his album, his photography, himself, and now that he’s back in the limelight all day, everyday, it’s taking a serious toll. Louis doesn’t say anything or imply that Harry needs to slow down, but he wants to, just isn’t quite sure how. Harry’s been a little moodier, a little more on edge, and the whole time Louis is trying to figure out a way to approach the subject lightly, it seems that Harry has already given it just as much thought as Louis has, if not more.

“I think I wanna take some time off,” he says one night just before bed. He’s in the middle of changing his pants, tripping into them like he always does. “Like, hide, maybe?” The way he says it makes it sound like he’s asking for permission from Louis, just to make sure they’re currently at the same level.

Louis raises a brow from his position in bed and looks up, relieved, worried. “Yeah? Like go on an extended holiday?”

“Mmm, something like that.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Harry crawls into bed beside him, shirtless and shoulders pink from his sunburn. The weather was mild and about 10 degrees today - typical for January - but they spent the majority of the day outside, anyway, Harry lounging in the backyard, ignoring Louis’ request to venture out. Paps, he said simply, going back to shielding his eyes from the LA sun.

“I rented out a place in Maine,” he says, reaching for his reading glasses on the bedside table. He doesn’t really need them, but no matter how much Louis teases him about it, he continues to wear them, squinting without them. Dramatic. “I’m not even really sure where it is, but I know it’s right on a lake, it’s in the woods, it’s secluded, it’s…” He sighs. “Not here.”

Louis’ stomach tightens. “You trying to get away from me, Styles?”

“No, God no.” Harry shakes his head, curls finally grown back in and bouncing. “I’m trying to take a break from everything, but that doesn’t include you. You can come with me, if you want. But don’t feel obligated to. I know how much you love it here. And that you like writing here best.”

I love it here because you’re here. “I’m comin’ with,” he replies eventually.

“You want to?”

“Yes. You’re a bit strange for wanting to fuck off to the middle of nowhere but. I’m used to your weirdness by this point. No judgement here. I’ll come with.”

Harry smirks, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose like Louis always does. Copy cat. “Good.”

“So, when’re we leaving?”

“Thursday morning.”

“Christ, you’re an impulsive lad, aren’t you?”

“I suppose.”

“Makes life interesting.”

Harry nods, reaching for the remote for the telly, then setting it back down. “I’m very happy. I really am. I just need a change, yeah?”

“It’s okay to, like, want to step back,” Louis says softly. “You don’t have to be grateful and positive every second of the day. Wanting to escape is probably the most normal thing I can think of.”

He’s quiet for a moment, probably thinking. He purses his lips when he looks at Louis. “Thank you.”

“Absolutely.”

“And you’re gonna escape with me? Until you’re tired of me?”

Louis smiles, turning off his bedside light. “Absolutely.”

Maine is fucking cold. Painfully cold. Being on the water does nothing to help that, and Louis spends the first week inside, wrapped in blankets and jumpers, the tip of his nose now permanently red. Harry makes him tea, all the while repeatedly saying, “It’s so gorgeous out here. The water seems so still under the ice. Look at all the snow. The trees. There are so many.”

Louis just rolls his eyes, jamming his toes under Harry’s thighs. “Yes, yes, nature is amazing. Would be more appreciative if it wasn’t so bloody freezing.”

The cabin is nothing to brag about. The kitchen is far from gourmet, the appliances old and creaky, and though there are three bedrooms, they’re all small, cramped. The living space offers next to nothing other than an old wood stove (which quickly becomes Louis’ best friend), and the entire space is outdated, in desperate need of some serious love. Louis keeps his mouth shut, though, because Harry is the happiest Louis has seen him since he got back from touring. He’s lounging, he’s playing his guitar, he’s fucking smiling, and Louis can’t stop staring at him, not worried for the first time in ages.

January ticks by quickly, the silence around them both calming and unnerving. It takes a while to get used to not having an agenda, not mapping out their day according to where paparazzi and nosy fans are, but once they figure out how to appreciate the new environment, Louis feels light. He turns off his phone for the majority of the day, the owls hooting and coyotes howling the soundtrack to their nights instead of constant beeping and ringing, and even though he gives Harry shit for essentially writing love songs about all that Maine has to offer, he’s finding himself embracing the change, too. He sleeps better than he has in months, the cold air numbing his lungs, his mind, dead tired by the time he slides under the duvet cover beside Harry each night. And though Louis knew Harry had been tense in months prior, he hadn’t realized how stressed he’d actually been. He has a comparison now, though, can see the way the bags under Harry’s eyes are clearing up, can see the brightness back in his grin, isn’t blind to the way he seems to be a little touchier than usual, fumbling into bed with Louis before it’s dark out, his hands restless and his mouth hot. On Harry’s birthday, they get stuck at the cabin, snowed in, but it doesn’t matter. Louis wakes him up slowly, Harry whining low in his throat the whole time, and when Louis does his best to make breakfast in bed with the limited ingredients they have in the kitchen, Harry acts like it’s the best gift he’s ever received. Louis almost believes him.

The shadows outside from the trees are long, ominous, and beg to be touched. Pine trees, oak trees; they’re all strong and sturdy and bare, the tops of them disappearing against the inky black sky, stars bright and unclouded by smog like in the city. The firewood snaps, the steam from mugs swirl up, their breath comes out like smoke in wisps. Heavy blankets feel like weights, heavy and safe. The yard is white. The lake is frozen. Sometimes, when Harry is finally fast asleep, his breathing even and his mind finally shut off, Louis will sneak out and stand out on the back deck, shaking in the cold, numb, could scream if his lungs would work, but it wouldn’t matter because no one is around to hear him.

It’s rejuvenating, it’s the best therapy he’s ever had, and damn Harry for knowing exactly what they both needed, somehow. Louis hadn’t realized how stuffed up he was, too, was so focused on Harry’s well being that he hadn’t realized he was also under the pressure of it all.

They’re incognito. Anonymous. Louis has never felt so exposed, so secluded. He never wants to go back.

Spring rolls in from out of nowhere; Louis has flown back to LA four times, home to his family twice, and to Miami once for a promise to record with a new group of people. When he’s gone, he misses the cabin, misses Harry, but finds himself feeling refreshed when he’s back to work, back with his people. It’s a nice balance for once.

Harry only leaves Maine twice, though, seemingly happy to stay locked away, exploring the woods, hiking and creating his own paths up and down muddy walkways. Louis invites him to come away with him but Harry just shrugs and says, “I’m good, baby, thank you.”

The ice melts away, the flowers emerge. It’s cooler in the mornings and evenings, afternoon temperatures comfortable with a light jacket on. They make dinner together and eat out on the back deck, watching the waves lap up against the dock, and they talk about their writing, what’s going on in their heads. Harry doesn’t tense up like he has over the course of the past year when Louis asks what he’s worked on today, and instead, lights up when he passes Louis his leather bound notebook across the table. His handwriting is messy but precise as always, and Louis nods along as he reads through the second verse.

“This,” he says. “This part is great.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis confirms. “Phenomenal, really. Jealous I didn’t think of it first.”

Harry smirks, dimple poking out, and Louis wants to stick his finger in it. “Could’ve, if you spent more than ten minutes sitting still.”

“Hey, I do.”

“Sleeping doesn’t count.”

Louis shrugs. “Whatever. As long as you’re feeling good about where you are right now.”

“I am.”

“I’m glad.”

Spring in Maine is different than spring anywhere else Louis has lived. The leaves seem to bloom all at once, the branches grey and bare on Wednesday, green and thick by Thursday. The ground smells like dirt and wildflowers and new. The rain sweeps in every other day out of nowhere. It coats the pavement and grass, beading against the blades, sounds like pop rocks across the lake. It lulls Louis to sleep almost every time.

At the end of May, Harry has 18 songs complete, sings them so often that Louis has them memorized. Louis asks Harry if he’s ready to get back to LA and record, or maybe find some remote location somewhere to set up, like Juneau or the Keys or a tiny island off the coast of Ireland. Harry shakes his head.

“Nope. I’m good. Still want to be here.”

Louis just nods antsy.

June, July, and August are bloody hot, the humidity stifling. Louis wakes up with Harry plastered to his back every morning, stuck together from sweat, and he feels like he can’t breathe, suffocating in more ways than one. There’s no air conditioning, so Louis spends the majority of his time in the water, hissing from the shock of it when he dives into the wake. Harry typically joins him, ducking down to lick the water droplets off his collarbone, his neck. It feels good, being in their bubble, Harry’s hands wandering without consequences.

The lightning bugs come out half nine every night, mirroring the lightning streaking across the sky, and Harry says it’s for them, their own private show. Louis murmurs under his breath, “Well, no one’s here, Harry, who else would it be for?” Harry doesn’t answer that, just pulls Louis in closer, eyelashes sweeping across his cheekbones.

“You don’t have to stay,” he whispers.

“You don’t, either,” Louis counters.

“I’m just not ready to jump back into the speed of what used to be. I feel like I’m being more productive now than I’ve ever been, while I’m unwinding. Simultaneously.”

He gets that, understands completely. But. “It’s been awhile, love.”

“Okay, yeah, I know.”

Louis waits for Harry to say something else, but he doesn’t, just clinks his ice around in his glass, water sloshing over the side. The frogs are croaking, the crickets are chirping, and it’s the first time that Louis wants to shut it all off.

He heads back to LA for good just before the leaves start to transform into golds, reds, oranges, yellows, browns. Harry sends him pictures every morning, telling Louis he’s missing the views, followed by, I’m missing the views, too, if you know what I mean. Louis rolls his eyes at that and replies with, Come to LA and you can get a full show. Harry doesn’t come back, though, and Louis doesn’t expect him to.

It’s hard, missing Harry this much for the first time in ages, especially when he knows Harry still isn’t quite right. He can’t halt his life, though, can’t hole up in the woods forever, touching and kissing and listening to Harry’s pen scrawl across paper at three in the morning. It’s not realistic to continue to hide away, not when they both have so much waiting for them.

“We both clearly have some issues,” Louis says through the phone late one night in October. LA was hot today, but Harry told him he’s comfortable in a jumper and trackies, a little chilly, even. It feels like they’re worlds away, and not just on opposite ends of the country. “But you can’t keep yourself off the grid. Not forever.”

“I didn’t say it was forever,” Harry argues. “It’s not like I’ve been glued to this house. I’ve been home to see my mum and Gemma. I went to Sydney last month. I’ve been back to LA with you.”

“Yeah, once.”

“Lou, I need to do this for me. I did it for us, really, but now you’re gone and you’ve figured out how to settle but I haven’t. Not quite yet. You’re always one step ahead and I’m just trying to catch up.”

Louis swallows, picking at a scab on his knee. He has no idea where it came from. “See, that’s funny, because I always feel like we’re on exactly the same page.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I do.” He pauses to clench and unclench his jaw. “I love you. And I hope you’re feeling the way you want to feel. I’m trying to be supportive but I also want to slap you and, like, I haven’t seen you in six weeks and it’s just. Come home.”

“Baby, when I come home, I’m heading straight for you. First thing.” Harry breathes through the phone for a beat. “I miss you. So much. Stepping away from the public was exactly what I needed. I know you can tell how much better I sound. How much healthier.”

Louis nods, because it’s true. “Yeah.”

“The next step would have been stepping away from. Everything.” He doesn’t have to explain further for Louis to know he’s implying breakup. “I had to. And guess what.”

He pauses to exhale. “What.”

“I’ve written another album. Like, 53 songs that I’m trying to sort though. I’ve never felt more at peace with myself. With you. I haven’t missed you like this in ages. I forgot what it felt like to love this hard. And, like, I don’t want us to be tired of one another. Tell me if you are.” His voice wavers, just slightly. “Because I feel like now I’m on my way to being fixed, and in turn, that fixed everything else. Even things that didn’t need major repairs. Like us.”

Louis squeezes his eyes shut. “Never gonna be tired of you.”

“Thank God,” Harry whispers. “Hey, Lou.”

“Harry.”

“I had to use the heated blanket last night.”

“Was it really that cold?”

“No, but usually I have someone in bed with me and he’s pretty warm. Felt lonely.”

Louis smiles, shaking his head. “Put on wool socks next time.”

“Good advice.”

Over the course of the next month, Louis isn’t sure where they stand. They’re together, but Harry isn’t as communicative, and nothing feels reassuring anymore. Louis has to resist the urge to call and fight with him, just to put his negative energy somewhere, unsure of where else to put it, and he can’t believe he’s jealous of a Goddamn cabin. Louis has never been as devoted to anything in his entire life, nothing more than Harry, but he doesn’t know how to figure it all out on his own.

Turns out, he doesn’t have to.

He comes home to his boy lounging on their couch on a Tuesday night in November. He looks like he never left, bag of crisps on his lap, fucking wool socks covering his feet. He tips his head back and looks over the back of the couch when he hears Louis walk in.

“Hi, baby,” he says, the look on his face evident that he’s pleased with himself, sneaking through LAX without being seen, without Louis knowing. “‘m back.”

“I can see that.” Louis saunters over, not thinking about it as he carefully climbs astride Harry’s hips. He looks so good, smiling in that Harry way of his. “Decided to show up with no warning?”

Harry drops the bag onto the coffee table in favor of sliding his hands up and down Louis’ back. “Wanted to be a surprise.”

“I’ll say.”

“A good one, I hope.”

“Still thinking about it.”

He smirks, hands still moving. “You look gorgeous.”

“Obviously.”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes. “Wish you’d seen some of autumn. Best season, by far. I swear, the lake looks orange from the reflection of the leaves. You’d love it. Gonna have to go back with you there someday.” He backtracks when he sees the look on Louis’ face. “For, like, a long weekend.”

He laughs, pressing his forehead to Harry’s. “Don’t think I’d love it as much as I love having you back here.”

“You and my manager.”

Louis needs to make sure: “You didn’t come back here for him, though, right.”

“No. I didn’t. Being away… It didn’t feel like home anymore. I needed time to refocus and recenter. I missed.” Harry looks up. He looks young, like the Harry Louis fell in love with so many moons ago. “A lot of things. But mostly you. Can’t wait to get you in the studio with me and show you what I have so far. And just can’t wait to start living again, yeah? You know what I mean? I’m ready to do this.”

Louis doesn’t have to ask what ‘this’ is. He knows. He feels it.

And maybe they are on the same page.