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marvelslut16 · 7 months

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Acquaint Yourself With The Avengers

Prompt number: 29 "That's all? Easy."

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!reader

Rating: E(veryone)

Word count: 4.2k+

Warnings: Maybe some swearing. Slow Burn? Reality TV show hate. Bucky (and readers') self hatred. Talk of death.

A/N: Hey guys! I feel like I've been gone forever- work is killing me! But I'm back for Fictober and I'm really hoping I'll finally do the whole month. This is part 1 of 2 I think- but I'm open to writing more in this universe. Part two will be up in a few days if not tomorrow. I have never watched a reality TV show, so please bare with me for the mistakes I no doubt made.

“This has to be a joke,” you deadpan, throwing the joke of a contract onto the table in front of you. Steve murmurs in agreement on your left, and an increasingly uncomfortable Bucky shifts in his seat to Steve’s left. “Tony, reality shows are crap. What were you thinking?”

“This is coming from higher up than me,” he rubs his temples, giving away his exasperation. Over the years Tony started to slowly step out of the spotlight, no longer seeking out media coverage. “It’s directly from Fury, and the few Congress members that are still on our side. Since the Accord drama our ratings have been dipping, we need them to see that underneath it all we’re just human.”

“And if I don’t agree to it?” your voice hardens as you have a staring contest with the billionaire.

“Then you’re out.”

“So you’re telling me if I don’t exploit my life, if we all don’t exploit our lives- we’re kicked to the curb. Just like that? Years of work and helping people just flushed down the toilet?” you’re on the verge of angry tears.

Your mother had drilled into your brain since you were a young impressionable child, that reality shows were trash, that they did more harm than good. The worse things people did on these shows the more famous they got, it teaches young children that they’ll get rewarded for their bad behavior. You wonder what she would think of you now, about to agree to become that trash just so you can continue to help the people that are bound to talk shit about each and every one of your friends online.

“I agree with (Y/N/N),” Steve finally speaks up, quickly glancing at Bucky’s clenched fists. “Bucky shouldn’t be subjected to having twenty cameras shoved in his face, not so soon after rejoining society.”

It’s been a month since Bucky came to live with everyone at the newly built compound, he had spent the previous three months after the Accords in Wakanda receiving the best help Shuri could provide. You wouldn’t say that you and Bucky are friends, but you two are definitely friendlier than he is with most of the team. You’ve never pushed him to talk, you two can sit in peaceful silence, something Sam does regularly because of his experience with PTSD and the benefits of talking about it.

“You’re just worried that more people are going to start speculating that you're dating him,” Sam joins the conversation, referencing the newest gossip article published today. Some ‘news’ site wrote a fifteen paragraph article speculating on a non-existent romance between the super soldiers, stemming from one single photo of Steve standing half in front of Bucky and pushing a camera out of his face on the way into a restaurant- for a team dinner.

“On the topic of relationships, I don’t really want a bunch of cameras in mine and Clint’s,” Natasha speaks up from the other side of the table, Clint nods along.

“The last thing people need is hours of footage of Vis and me to analyze and bully us about, I already get enough judgment and hate,” Wanda adds, crossing her arms over her chest. Vis rests a comforting hand on her soldier, he’s learned enough about human emotions- especially Wanda’s- to know not to add anything.

“You guys are overreacting,” Sam rolls his eyes. “Plus this could be a good time to promote things we’re passionate about, like group therapy for Veterans.”

“It sounds fun,” Thor booms, you roll your eyes. No one will say anything about him, he’s conventionally attractive, has a sexy accent, and he’s a literal God. He has nothing but adoring fans.

“All publicity is good publicity,” Tony grimaces. “We can’t go any lower, we’re already at the bottom of the barrel.”

“Peter’s lucky he’s a minor and anonymous,” you pout, out of the corner of your eye you can see Bucky crack a small smile. With that one final comment you're signing the contract, because at the end of the day you’ll do whatever it takes to be able to help those in need. Everyone has a similar vein of thought, all signing their own contracts.

Later that night you're sitting in the living room with Bucky, the News is playing in the background, but neither of you had been paying it any mind. You’re too focused on coming up with worst case scenarios about the impending reality show. Bucky can practically hear the gears whirring in your head, he keeps glancing over at you to make sure you're okay. Not that you notice because you're too wrapped up in your own little world.

“What if they edit it to make one of us the villain?” you ask out of nowhere, this is the first time you’ve broken the peaceful silence in the months you’ve been sitting with him. “Sorry, forget I said anything, I’m gonna head to bed.”

“It’ll be me,” Bucky whispers when you stand up from the couch. “They’ll take this opportunity to show everyone what a monster I am.”

“You aren’t a monster Bucky,” you squat down in front of him when you see that he’s staring at his lap. “You can’t be blamed for what Hydra made you do. And anyway, they usually pick an unsuspecting person on one of these shows and edit it so their words and actions are all twisted. They ruin people’s characters, not make hard hitting political statements.”

“You think they’ll target you?” he asks it like it’s a question, but it’s more of a statement.

“Yeah I do,” you sigh, standing up and plopping on the couch beside Bucky for the first time. “I’m mysterious, or at least that’s what Tony and Peter keep telling me. I don’t have a big social media presence, I do my best to avoid the paparazzi when I go out, and I very rarely speak at press conferences. If they don’t make me the villain, I’m worried they’ll hyperfocus on me until I slip up and become one.”

“I think it’ll be Vision, since he’s a robot,” Bucky adds after a minute of silence, and you can’t help but smile at him.”

Before you know it, Wednesday rolls around, and the fifteen person crew shows up to invade your lives. You start to get overwhelmed by the ten cameras they are setting up, two in a confessional area, and the other three in the living room where you are all supposed to do your opening scripted talk- where Tony will explain why you guys are doing the reality show Acquaint Yourself With The Avengers. On top of those cameras, the crew are setting up hidden and security cameras to catch the action when they aren’t there filming on the main ones. Once you're all seated on the couches- your stuffed between Bucky and Sam- the PA, Alice, comes over to talk to you all.

“So filming will happen Thursday through Tuesday most weeks, unless a big event falls on an off day, crew leaves by ten PM at the latest, and the hidden cameras will go dormant after midnight. No children will be in the final product- as requested by Scott, we can evaluate on a case by case basis if any of the rest of you choose to have children down the line and want to show them. Are there any questions?” she asks, but gives a look that screams not to ask any. “Well if there aren’t any, we should get to shooting, we’re already twenty minutes behind.”

You say your two scripted lines in the beginning scene and then zone out through the rest, you’re a little worried your face will give your lack of enthusiasm away, but none of the crew says anything so you assume you're fine. Soon enough, you're dismissed, but not allowed to go far because the first interviews for all of you are about to take place in the dining room. You and Bucky both stay firmly planted on the couch while most of the others go to the kitchen to get something to drink, or lurk in the dining room to watch said interviews- Steve being the first to be interviewed.

“Just act like the camera’s aren't there,” you say unhelpfully when you notice his gaze shifting uneasily from one camera to the next. In reality you too are struggling with them watching you from every possible angle.

“That’s all? Easy,” Bucky deadpans, a laugh bursts out of your mouth and his eyes twinkle.

“Did you just make a joke,” you laugh again, this time far quieter. For the first time since the camera crew arrived you forget they’re there, too lost in this one real moment with Bucky, too lost in his gorgeous crystal blue eyes. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him let his guard down with anyone other than Steve.

“And if I did?” he asks playfully, leaning in closer to you, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Then I’d say do it more often, it’s a good look on you,” you grin back at him, and you're only broken out of your trance when Alice calls for Tony.

She calls you after Tony, hair and makeup come rushing over to give tiny last minute adjustments to your appearance after you're seated in front of a ring light. You start to fidget with the hem of your shirt as the PA flips through her paper to get to her list of questions about you, the suspense just making your anxiety skyrocket.

“To start off we’re just going to ask some easy and basic questions to get you warmed up. So (Y/N), you’ve been with the Avengers since it was first formed, tell us what that’s been like, and make sure you put the question in your answer.”

“I’ve been with the Avengers since 2011, I was the second one Director Fury recruited, right after Tony. I’ve loved all of the good deeds we have been able to do for people all over the world, and I’ve made some lifelong friendships too. It’s amazing being able to do something you love with the people you love.”

“Good good,” Alice nods, looking down at her questions. “Now tell us how you feel about all of the new auditions to the team since then, and don’t hold back.”

“We’ve had some pretty great people join since the seven of us were originally put together, not only are they good, friendly people, but they are also all very skilled at what they do. I love watching the team grow, it just means that we have more skills and manpower to be able to help even more people,” Alice rolls her eyes at your response.

“For this next part we’re going to put up article headlines talking about how you’re the most private Avenger, even more so than Natasha. So just tell us why you’re so private.”

“There isn’t all that much to say, I’m just a private person,” Alice makes a keep going gesture from behind the camera. “I’ve always been pretty private and I was only thrust into the limelight when I joined the Avengers Initiative. I do my job to help people not to get recognition, that’s what my career has always been about. I never felt the need to post a lot of selfies online or make a tweet about the workout I just did. People are allowed to do those things, and there’s nothing wrong with that, I’ve just never understood why people would care what I’m doing in my day to day life.”

“Do you feel safe in the compound?” the question comes out of left field and you aren’t sure why it’s being brought up.

“Of course I feel safe! I’m in a highly secured compound with my fellow Avengers, there’s nothing safer.”

“One last question, everyone is dying to know, what’s your relationship status?” Alice even seems like she’s interested in the answer.

“Like I said before, I am a very private person, but I suppose I could answer this. For the whole two people wondering about my relationship status, I am single at the moment. I’ve just been really focusing on my job, and I’ve learned that people don’t necessarily like coming second to my job and my friends.”

“Thank you,” Alice smiles. “Can you send Bucky over next?”

You do as you’re told, search out Bucky and send him on his way to the dining room. Instead of heading to sweet freedom, your room, you loiter and watch Bucky’s intro interview. “Sergeant Barnes, what has it been like joining the Avengers and how has everyone treated you?”

“It’s been okay and mostly everyone-” Bucky gets cut off by Alice.

“Make sure you put the question in your answer.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bucky is clearly starting to get agitated with all of the focus and cameras on him.

“Say something like joining the Avengers has been really good, it’s helping me get better with teamwork again blah blah blah. The team has welcomed me in and it’s reminiscent of my time in the Army, something like that,” Bucky gives one nod, turning back to the camera in front of him.

“Joining the Avengers has been really good, it’s helping me get better with teamwork again,” you bring your hands to your mouth to stifle your laugh at Bucky repeating you word for word. “The team has welcomed me in and it’s reminiscent of my time in the Army.”

“Okay,” Alice draws the word out at Bucky’s lack of originality. “Who would you say your best friends on the team are?”

“Steve,” Bucky responds without thinking, and Alice tells him to mention at least one other person. “Other than Steve, probably (Y/N).”

You're shocked, but flattered, by his response. Sure, he may have just said that because you were right there and staring at him, but maybe he meant it. Maybe all of those nights on the couch with him meant something to him.

“Oh really?” asks, clearly liking whatever spin she’ll eventually put on this conversation in editing.

“Yeah, she um, she was the first one to really welcome me and spend time with me,” he rubs his neck nervously.

“Just like (Y/N), you’re really private too,” you take a step forward seeing that the questioning is starting to put Bucky on edge.

“Cause it’s no one's business,” Alice, thankfully, doesn’t push.

“Are you ever worried you may do something to put your team members in danger?”

That’s enough!” your voice comes out firmer and louder than you imagined it would, drawing the attention of the rest of the Avengers. “Bucky isn’t going to sith there and take your abuse, his interview is done.”

You hold your hand out to him, and he jumps to grasp it, gripping it like it’s his lifeline. You’ve never touched Bucky before, and you keep your brain from running at how warm and nice his right hand feels in your own. You lead him out of the room, away from the prying eyes, and the now constant camera presence. You pull Bucky to your favorite room in the compound, the library. You deposit him on the comfy chaise lounge in the middle of the room while you go grab two books. You come back with Harry Potter for you, and The Hobbit for him, you had heard him talking to Steve about the movies once and learned he read it back in the day.

Little do you know, the littlest action of knowing Bucky’s favorite book on top of the way you stood up for him out there means more to Bucky than he’ll ever know how to express. It thaws his frozen heart just a little.

#fictober23 #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #kat rambles #bucky barnes imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine

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bomberqueen17 · 1 year

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stressy

so today we got up, and i drank some coffee and made some plans for the day, because huzzah, no work today due to driving bans still in effect also the parking lot at work has not and cannot be plowed.

First order of business was to shovel out the driveway though, so I ate half a granola bar and girded myself in snow gear and out we went. We own a small snowblower, which has a mouth that can take up to about twelve inches of snow. Given that the total for our area was around 49″, that wasn’t gonna work. But what we could do, was use the snow shovels and a garden spade to shovel out a patch, and then chop the snow drifts into that patch and run the snowblower over that patch again and again, to take the snow and fling it up over the very high snowbanks.

So we did that, Dude and I, for an hour and some change. And at the end of it, we had busted the huge drift that was blocking us off from the street.

So we came inside and had toast for breakfast, and congratulated ourselves. and then I set to work on cleaning the house. Farmsister and her family are staying here on the night of the 1st, and the guest bedroom is full of my clothes and the living room is full of all the debris I never unpacked from various trips back and forth and back and forth to the cabin.

First thing I did was fasten some adhesive hooks to the wall where my coat rack fell down last year; I’ve been keeping my coats in a pile on the floor ever since because if I put them into the closet I lose them forever. That was a great start, but then I... think the stress of the last couple of days weeks months really caught up, and i spent the next several hours wandering fretfully in circles. I did get a lot of tidying done but in tiny intervals, cycling among tasks in little microbursts of activity that, while productive, were not in any way organized.

I did make a hearty lunch-- we have no milk in the house, so when I made box mac n cheese I had to use sour cream-- and we had a few lil smokies sausages left, so what I did was that I browned an onion for a very long time in butter, then threw the lil smokies in, chopped, and then deglazed the pan with some pasta water, and stirred in the sour cream to that and then added the cheese powder and then the cooked macaroni and voila, gourmet, bone apple teeth. We needed something substantial after all that shoveling.

Dude caught on that I was stressed, and asked what he could clean. i asked him to clean off the bathroom counter. He spent two hours on this, which is fantastic-- removed every item, considered it, and threw it out if it wasn’t still good, and put it back if it was still good. Now that counter is presentable. The floor is not, but he did the tub last week, so it’s almost like grown people live in this house.

I found my long-lost kindle, which had slipped into a drawer in the sewing desk in the living room. i also de-silted the sewing desk, so I could set up my new electric spinning wheel there. Am very excited about that. Also excited because my mother gave me an enormous bag of beautifully prepared wool from Battenkill Fibers, a gorgeous silky longwool of some kind, pin-drafted, just off-white, suitable for dyeing.

I wanted to write. I’m so so so close to an update for Awakening. And I’m not like. *far* off from an update for Golden Towers. I want to finish both by the end of the year, know I won’t manage it, but at least I might finish the first one. I have so many ideas; I put a bunch of little things into the Wanksmas round, and some will wind up being in the main continuity and some will not. I wrote neither smut nor really to any of the prompts, but I did manage drabbles, and really it’s just nice to be involved in something.

(One thing I wrote, I left on anon by adding it to the anonymous collection. Wonder if anyone will guess which one it was!)

Anyway, we hiked over to Dude’s mom’s house again, where she had prepared christmas dinner for just us. A twelve-pound ham, split three ways! but there was nothing to be done, no room for the whole thing in the freezer. We couldn’t get Dude’s aunt there, due to the driving bans; she’s not quite spry enough anymore to walk that last tenth of a mile in the deep snow, and her oven isn’t working well enough to have her host it (Dude’s mom could probably make the walk and we could’ve picked her up, but it wasn’t worth the logistical hassle and, to be fair, it is rather a difficult walk.)

oh i forgot to finish this entry. Well, I’ll post it this morning. We had a lovely dinner of Too Much Ham and some very decadent potatoes and of course the variant on greenbean casserole that his family eats. And we helped her clear some snow from shrubberies in her front yard, and had intended to help clear her driveway but her neighbors had already done so. No plows have been by so there’s not much point doing more.

I’m terribly sore now from shoveling and moving boxes to clean the house. I’m glad I did as much as I did heavy lifting-wise yesterday. Now it’s morning and I’ve awoken before 5 to discover that yeah I’ve mildly fucked up my back, so that’s awesome. But I have had many healing cat snuggles and also like a handful of ibuprofen so I have some hopes of the situation resolving itself.

I can confirm that about four more inches of snow fell overnight but it looks to be fluffy so we’ll be fine.

#about the author #real life #blizzard of '22

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dreamlandforever · 1 year

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The Devil You Know

(Sterek | Teen and Up | 13k)

AO3 link

I wrote my first Sterek for the "'What‘s a Stiles?" Sterek April event, based on the Prompt "Unhinged Stiles" and "Derek gets kidnapped", I hope you like it!

Summary:

“When was the last time you spoke to Derek?”

He was not expecting that question.

When was the last time he spoke to Derek? They spoke every day. They have spoken every day for six years. Sometimes Stiles calls, sometimes Derek does. But it happens daily, even if it is only for a few minutes.

But the thing is, Stiles doesn’t know what day it is. This case has been the entirety of his focus lately.

“What day is today?”

She doesn’t hesitate, too used to Stiles being…Stiles. “Tuesday”.

Fuck. Stiles missed work.

Wait. If it was Tuesday…

“Lydia.” He speaks as calmly and clearly as he is able to, which is not much. “Where. Is. Derek?.”

Tuesday.

There are a lot of things that Stiles prides himself in. Granted, most of them are illegal and kind of frown upon by the FBI, but he still knew how to get the job done. Research is one of them, and, fortunately for him, is also a skill very much appreciated by the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Especially because they didn’t know what Stiles’ preferred methods were, exactly.

The red yarn strewn all over his shoe-box apartment seems to belong to another lifetime. The only thing keeping him kind of in the present is the whiteboard he got for cheap on eBay, which also happens to double as the divider between his kitchenette and living room. FBI Stiles did not have to cover his walls in tacks, no, sir. FBI Stiles had a slightly better set up. Also, his landlord is not very fond of holes in the wall. Stiles may or may not have a little issue trying to hang a picture a few weeks after he moved in.

If he took a deep breath, he could really see himself transported back to his room in Beacon Hills. The coffee he was brewing was the same brand he had always used, the feel of the yarn was all too familiar to his hands, the pain on his lower back and the headache caused by sleep deprivation felt just like home. He wasn’t sure when was the last time he slept, but he knew he wouldn’t like the answer. From the state of the table and the marks on his cheek, he had fallen asleep at some point, so good for him. He let himself be transported back to his room, when he himself was a kid, and had to fight the Big Bad of the week, and not an FBI man who had to stop a fucking human from killing children, on top of thinking of the next Big Bad.

Which is why, it took a while for Stiles to realize that the buzzing wasn’t in his head, and he wasn’t just hallucinating it. He looked around his kitchen table, slowly blinking himself into reality. He can’t even tell how long he has been working, but it has been long enough for his blinking to actually hurt, and the pounding of his head has become more constant. With a sigh he finally finds his phone under a bunch of folders he isn’t sure he was even allowed to bring home.

Without even looking at the caller, he answers as fast as he can before the call can go to voicemail. “Hey, Der. I was just about to have dinner, don’t worry. Did you manage to fix that leaking sink? I cannot sleep with that thing, dude, and I am less than a week away from visiting.” He crosses his fingers, hoping he did not miss calls before. Derek does not enjoy when Stiles doesn’t answer his phone.

He is met with only silence. He flinches slightly.

“Breakfast? Was I about to have breakfast?” So maybe he did miss a few calls. And a lot more hours than he originally thought.

“Stiles, I am not Derek.” Lydia’s voice. She is calm and collected. And Lydia is one of Stiles’ comfort people, as well as one of his other regular calls, so he knows that voice.

“What happened?” He never quite mastered Lydia’s ability to remain in control. His voice sounded panicked even to his own ears. He stands up, no longer able to remain on the call while sitting down. His apartment is much too small to really walk away his nerves, but walking in circles will have to do. Was Derek in trouble?

“When was the last time you spoke to Derek?”

He was not expecting that question.

But the thing is, Stiles doesn’t know what day it is. This case has been the entirety of his focus lately.

“What day is today?”

She doesn’t hesitate, too used to Stiles being…Stiles. “Tuesday”.

Fuck. Stiles missed work.

Wait. If it was Tuesday…

“Lydia.” He speaks as calmly and clearly as he is able to, which is not much. “Where. Is. Derek?.”

“When was the last time you spoke to him?” She asked again, the stress finally showing on her voice.

“Saturday.” His voice came out so soft he wasn’t sure she had even heard him.

He hadn’t spoken to Derek in almost three days. They speak daily. He knows what she is going to say before the words leave her mouth.

“Stiles, Derek is missing.”

The words still feel like lead at the bottom of his stomach. The headache is rapidly turning into a migraine, and it is becoming harder for him to focus.

Derek. His Derek. Gone.

“Since when?” He knows his voice is shaky, but he can’t stop it.

Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.

There is a pause on the other side of the line, but Stiles doesn’t even notice. His head is going a mile a minute, and he cannot focus enough to comprehend simple facts, such as the passage of time. His entire body seems to have gone into panic mode, in a way it hasn’t for years. He is a man now, he is control of himself.

All bets are off the window when whatever is happening involves Derek, apparently.

“Sunday.”

He could hear ringing in his ears. He wasn’t sure if it was his mind dissociating or if his heart was beating so hard it was deafening. Either way, he didn’t have time for that, so he ignored it.

He knows today is Tuesday.

Derek went missing on Sunday.

And Stiles didn’t notice.

“Why hasn’t anyone called?” But as soon as the questions leaves his mouth, he knows the answer. Suddenly, he needs to hear it. He needs confirmation. Anger is so much easier to control than panic. Stiles wants to be angry. He wants to break something, he wants to take a swing of someone. And he knows just who.

“He said he would handle it. He benched all of us. And Derek usually keeps to himself, but Stiles it has been two days. He isn’t telling us anything.”

Stiles sees red.

#sterek #jwritessometimes #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale

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farmhandler · 2 years

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New Beginnings

Here’s my rentan exchange piece for @chininiris in our little village. Your prompt was autumn leaves and I wrote a little thing. I hope you enjoy!!!!!!!!!!

---

“How do I look?” Kyojuro asked.

From across the room, Kanroji paused from applying blush and blinked at her mirror, taking him in.

“Cute. Comfortable!” she exclaimed, pointing at him through the rear. “So cozy!”

“I do feel very comfortable! And cozy!” Kyojuro brushed his hands down his turtleneck. “You don’t think Tanjiro will mind the outfit?”

This time, Kanroji didn’t even bother looking away from her own face. She delicately placed false lashes along her real ones. Her tongue prodded at her lower lip in concentration.

“When has he ever minded what you wear? When have you ever cared? You’re both so cute in that way!” she exclaimed. Kanroji’s passion for others was a thing to behold. “You just don’t care!”

As brusque as it was, she had a point. Kyojuro was told he had a unique fashion sense, and he didn’t mind such comments one bit. He liked what he liked, no matter what others preferred to think about it.

Usually. This wasn’t just anyone.

Kyojuro picked up the cardigan Tanjiro had bought for him nearly a year ago. He bunched it in his hands and shoved it against his nose, wishing he had the sense of smell Tanjiro did. Maybe it would still smell like him.

Two years ago, Tanjiro moved cities to be close enough to his job, and Kyojuro—regular customer and longtime friend of the Kamado bakery family—had had to watch him go.

You let him go, Shinobu told him once, quite coldly. The others had admonished her, but Kyojuro couldn’t get what she had said out of his mind.

He had let Tanjiro go. He had buried his feelings under a smile because he thought it what was what Tanjiro wanted. A long-distance relationship would only hurt both of them in the long run.

Or it would have, if they hadn’t kept in regular contact. If Tanjiro didn’t sometimes say things like, I miss you. Or, you should visit.

They had seen each other when Tanjiro would return, but it wasn’t the same. He would spend that time with his family.

This time was different. He was quitting his job—Kyojuro didn’t know why—and after weeks of settling in, he had agreed to spend the afternoon with Kyojuro at his behest.

“Let’s make a day of it!” Kyojuro had yelled into the phone.

They were going to meet at one of the parks where they would have a great view of the autumn leaves. The window wasn’t long for the best view and Kyojuro had made sure to time it as well as he could manage.

“You should be yourself,” Kanroji added. She put the final touches on her makeup and then pulled her hands away. “Done! Thanks for driving me around today. I really appreciate it!”

“It’s nothing! I’m relieved to have your opinion.”

“Not that you need it,” she teased, standing. Unsurprisingly, her outfit was pristine and fashionable. “Do you want to stay for lunch?”

“No. Though it isn’t for a while, I don’t want to be late for my date!”

Kanroji beamed. “Good luck, Kyojuro-san!”

---

A year. Over a year since he had seen Tanjiro.

Kyojuro hadn’t expected to feel this nervous! He would need to compensate by being as confident as he could manage. It wouldn’t do to show his uncertainty to Tanjiro.

They were meeting at his bakery. His home turf! Kyojuro would need to not get too distracted by food. They would get more on the way, and he planned to buy Tanjiro food as they traveled.

Kyojuro arrived at the bakery exactly on time. He opened the door.

“Tanjiro!!” he yelled. The way that the other patrons all quickly turned towards him, it may have come out louder than he intended. “Tanjiro!” he repeated, lowering his voice. The stares remained. Kyojuro paid them no mind.

Tanjiro stood at the counter, his apron midway from being lifted away from him, beaming.

“Kyojuro-san,” Tanjiro said, warm and welcome. A shiver worked its way through Kyojuro. “I’ll be right over. I’m just finishing up here!”

Kyojuro moved away from the door and sat down to wait—though not before ordering two croissants and a cheese danish to go while he waited. Though by the time Tanjiro walked towards his table, he had eaten all three.

“I missed that,” Tanjiro said beside him. Kyojuro looked up and swallowed around his last bite of danish.

“Missed what?” Kyojuro asked.

“Seeing you here, eating. It’s been so long!”

“What an odd statement! It has been a long time. It’s good to see you, Tanjiro.”

Their eyes met. Kyojuro deftly wiped at his chin for any spare crumbs, and Tanjiro let out a laugh.

“I think you promised me a walk in the park, Kyojuro-san.”

Another shiver, lower down his spine this time. He quickly stood.

“Let’s!”

---

It was a little colder than Kyojuro had anticipated. He was shivering even in the cardigan Tanjiro had bought for him. The turtleneck fit him nicely, but it was thin as well.

He didn’t bother trying to hide it, knowing Tanjiro would just detect the scent. So he yelled, “It’s quite chilly!” and Tanjiro laughed.

What a lovely sound he’d missed!

“I’m sorry,” Tanjiro said, shaking his head. “It’s just nice to see you! Feels like I’ve really come home.”

“Why did you come back?” Kyojuro asked, like a fool. Tanjiro didn’t answer. He walked on ahead of Kyojuro and together they began their trek through the park.

It really was beautiful. The leaves fell whenever the wind blew by, and there were enough shops around that even Kyojuro had his fill of food as the afternoon wore on. They talked about nothing in particular, and everything.

“There was this guy at my job,” Tanjiro told him, “and I couldn’t stand him. He was such a jerk! He was always rude to the girls in the office, too.”

Kyojuro felt a small amount of melancholy listening to descriptions of the world he had never been privy to, but he didn’t think about it long. He asked questions, and Tanjiro do the same. He told him how the dojo was losing members, leading to Kyojuro trying unique ways of finding new ones.

“I started out handing out flyers. When people think you’re soliciting, they become extremely rude!”

He laughed again, loudly, and Tanjiro looked at him with the same expression as before. Like he was looking at something precious.

They ended up finding a quiet spot benched near one of the smaller trees. Leaves kept falling down, and Tanjiro would pick them up whenever they landed near him and pile them in Kyojuro’s lap.

“I think pressing leaves and flowers could be a fun hobby,” he said inexplicably. “What do you think, Kyojuro-san?”

“I think…” Tanjiro’s eyes slid up towards his, and their intensity wasn’t unfamiliar, but he hadn’t met his gaze directly in such a long time. “I think I’d grow bored of it,” he admitted. “As pretty as they are!”

Tanjiro snorted. “For me, Kyojuro-san. I think I’d like to try taking it up as a hobby. Maybe. Nezuko did a lot when she was a kid.”

“You won’t grow bored of it?”

“I won’t grow bored of it,” Tanjiro drawled. “Or maybe I will. I don’t know. I’d like to find out, now that I’m home.”

Home. Kyojuro swallowed the word down, yet he couldn’t keep the smile from his face. “It’s so good to have you back. It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“I hope my family hasn’t been badgering you. Takeo really likes you. It’s hard, because he’s turning into a sulky teenager.” Tanjiro’s smile dipped briefly. “I missed so much while I was away.”

He talked about it like it wasn’t a choice, but an obligation. Kyojuro wanted to ask.

“Why did you come back?” he asked.

The leaves fell in gusts as the wind blew past them, picking up speed. The pile Tanjiro had situated over Kyojuro’s thighs blew away. He sighed like it genuinely upset him.

“It wasn’t home. I felt like… I spent all this time feeling like I wanted to make something of myself. I had convinced myself living in my family’s shadow wasn’t what I wanted. Then I got what I wanted, and realized… I was wrong.”

His hand inched closer to Kyojuro’s. Kyojuro thought about taking a chance, about confessing everything he’d been thinking and feeling, but he wanted to be the right moment. He had images of him standing in front of the fountain and shouting it out to the world.

Kamado Tanjiro, I love you!

Tanjiro’s hand slipped away from his. He sighed again, staring up at the trees. A child nearby screamed in delight as one of her friends chased her around a large tree trunk.

“I missed you! It hasn’t been the same around here. Which I realized I just said.” Kyojuro would do that over phone calls often. He thought of their late-night conversations; smiles over video; the way Tanjiro’s eyes would search his like he was seeking something. Kyojuro found himself adding, “You are one of my dearest friends Tanjiro. Honestly, if you had decided to stay there, I may have been forced to move!”

He belted out a laugh. Then suddenly, Tanjiro slapped both hands over his cheeks and stood.

“Kyojuro-san!” he yelled. He looked flush.

“Tanjiro!” Kyojuro yelled back without hesitation.

“Kyojuro-san!” he yelled louder.

“Tanjiro!!” Kyojuro bellowed, standing as well now. A mother was looking over at them curiously, and Tanjiro’s face turned even more red.

“Would you… do you…” Tanjiro sucked in a breath. “Kyojuro! Go out with me!”

“Yes, I will!” Kyojuro yelled back. Then: “wait, Tanjiro, that’s not fair!” His mouth hung open. He’d had a plan! “I was not ready!”

Tanjiro’s face broke out into the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. Kyojuro’s heart stuttered, then started hammering.

Tanjiro had just confessed to him. Tanjiro!

The wind blew past harder, sending Kyojuro’s hair flying in his face and making him regret not tying the top layer into a tighter ponytail. He squeezed his eyes shut, and when they opened again, Tanjiro was much closer.

“I’ve been waiting to say that for months. I couldn’t wait any longer!” Tanjiro said, looking like he wanted to hug him.

“Kamado Tanjiro—” Kyojuro started. He stopped, his brain catching up with what was really happening. “I’ll go out with you Tanjiro. I’d love nothing more! Because I love you!”

Tanjiro’s eyes widened. “Kyojuro-san,” he breathed, “that’s not fair!”

Kyojuro took his hand. Then he grabbed the other for good measure. “Then I’ll make it up to you! Let me take you out on a better date.” He stepped closer, his entire being engulfed by the realization that Tanjiro was going to be his. He clasped Tanjiro’s hands close to his chest, staring deeply into his eyes. Tanjiro looked—startled wasn’t quite right. Was he too close? “Please!”

“Y-Yes! I’d love that.” Tanjiro worked his jaw a few times, his eye sparkling like he might be close to tears. “Maybe tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow! Short notice, but the challenge will make it worth it!”

“We don’t need to go anywhere special. I’m happy just being with you.”

“But it must be special! It’s you!”

“Kyojuro-san!” Tanjiro chided.

“Tanjiro!” Kyojuro yelled back, ecstatic, his forehead close to brushing Tanjiro’s.

“Kyojuro-san.” Tanjiro’s voice went low, and he brushed a kiss over Kyojuro’s frozen lips.

A kiss!! Why hadn’t he considered kissing!

“Wear my cardigan tomorrow,” he said. Kyojuro choked through another excited response, his promises taken in by Tanjiro’s warm kisses.

#rentan #tanren #kyotan #demon slayer ///#my fic #ficlet #for chininiris #ily i hope you like #would have liked it to be longer but splatoon did take over my life and i been struggling lately

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ashxketchum · 1 year

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MAYBLADE 2023 - DAY 5

The Hiwatari family is making their debut in a small oneshot!

Note: Originally I had no plans to post for this prompt, but something struck today and I wrote this little oneshot featuring my OC for Kai, and the fankid they have together. It's a silly piece written solely for me, myself and I, so feel free to pass this one up if KaixOC or Fankids/Future married life scenarios are not your cup of tea ^-^ picrew credit x x

Following a fixed method to get appropriate results, a logic that always seemed to prevail for Kai was currently failing him while his 9 year old son, Luca, was not having as much trouble at tackling the task in front of them.

They were in Luca’s room, sitting cross-legged on the floor across from each other, and even with the air conditioner humming its usual tune and the windows tightly shut, the buzzing of the cicadas outside still reached their ears, which was the making of a perfect summer day. Kai was a little glad however, that Luca hadn’t yet insisted on travelling anywhere during his month long vacation from school, since his own work had taken him around the globe more than twice this year and he was happy to finally spend time at home, relaxing with his family.

Or so Kai had assumed his days would go when summer vacation started for Luca, but just two days in and his son was adamant about finishing all his homework and projects as soon as possible. Maybe letting him spend that weekend with Tyson and Hilary when both he and his wife were travelling at the same time had not been such a good call after all because clearly, Luca had been influenced under Hilary’s care. Although complaining about it now wouldn’t do much good either, since he’d already agreed to help the kid when he came leaping into his room earlier this morning, without even considering that maybe Kai might not be so adept at whatever project Luca wanted to work on today.

On the floor in front of him, lay a few paper cranes, some very neatly folded while others looking like the handicraft of someone who’d lost a few fingers, and Kai was not happy to admit that he’d folded the latter bunch. Luca’s homeroom teacher had thought it would be good if their class came back from the holidays with a thousand cranes folded, using them to decorate their classroom and make it more lively. Each kid was assigned a certain number of cranes they had to fold over the holidays, and that’s what Kai had been enlisted to help with today. The problem, which was embarrassing to admit, was that Luca was doing a much better job at folding the cranes than Kai, which made him feel sort of unhelpful in the whole situation. Though, as always, he was pleasantly surprised by his son’s ability to learn a new skill faster than most other people.

His attention was suddenly diverted from the square sheet of paper in his hand when he heard some movement in their house outside of Luca’s room. Just as he was about to get up to go on the lookout, a familiar voice drifted in through the closed door of his son’s bedroom.

“Kai-chan?”

“In here!”

He responded as loudly as possible, and a few minutes later the door to the room creaked open and his wife’s head popped in through the frame. Seeing as both of them were relaxed and she was not intruding on any special moments, Charlie quickly slipped into the room, carefully shutting the door behind her.

“Can you believe the client cancelled the meeting while I was en route?” Charlie heaved an angry sigh as instead of sitting down on the floor with the two of them, she promptly settled on Luca’s bed.

“Takasaki, was it? The traffic’s pretty bad at this time of the day.” Kai hadn’t been expecting her to be back until dinner so he was a bit surprised to see her home so early.

“It’s terrible. Thankfully, I got the call just as I was about to get on the bridge, so instead I took a somewhat dangerous u-turn and came back home.”

Kai’s face deadpanned at her words, despite of Charlie working as a lawyer for so many years, her complete disregard for the traffic laws was still a great cause of concern for him, “Can’t wait to see the traffic cam footage.” He muttered under his breath as Charlie waved a hand in the air, dismissing his worry.

“There won’t be any, I’m pretty sure I did a good job avoiding them.” She winked at him to let him know that she was just kidding, but Kai still couldn’t help and be slightly suspicious. “What are you two up to anyway?” She asked, one eyebrow raised out of curiosity. Leaning down slightly to look at the craft supplies scattered around them, her long platinum blonde hair cascaded into a curtain of silver on one side as she did so, making Kai’s hand twitch with the need to tuck it neatly behind her ear.

“Dad’s helping me fold paper cranes for school!” Luca piped up happily, raising both his hands, with one crane that he and Kai had folded in each.

Charlie’s emerald eyes lit up with excitement when she observed the two wildly different paper cranes presented to her, passing a sly grin in Kai’s direction as she cleared her throat, “Helping, is it?”

Kai felt a warmth trickle into his ears as he avoided her gaze, only comforted by the fact that Luca was still content with his minimal contribution.

“Yes! He helped me understand the instructions, and even found a good video that made it easier to follow the steps.” His son nodded eagerly, oblivious to the sarcasm laced in his mother’s voice.

“And you’ve done a great job at learning this so quickly!” Charlie leaned forward and ruffled Luca’s hair affectionately. She then picked the crane that Kai had folded from Luca’s hand and twirled it around her fingers, with a smirk she added in a mocking tone, “Meanwhile this poor crane looks like it got steamrolled by a truck, or worse, a Beyblade.”

“Hn.” Kai let out a grunt, turning his gaze back to the paper that had been lying idle in his hand since Charlie arrived at the scene, he frowned at it and looked up at her again, “I’d like to see you try.”

The smirk on her face widened, and she diligently pushed her hair back, a disappointing sight for Kai since he’d wanted to be the one to do that. Getting up from the bed and kneeling next to him on the floor, she swiftly took the sheet of paper from his hand and pressed it to the ground. What happened next was something Kai couldn’t follow with his eyes despite of keeping them peeled open with concentration. Charlie’s hands moved fast, folding the paper into shape so neatly, not a single corner overlapped and not a single crinkle was made as within two minutes or so, she held a perfectly folded paper crane high up for both him and Luca to see.

There hadn’t been a time when Kai had not regretted challenging his wife over something silly, and yet he never learnt his lesson. Clearly, Luca had managed to get better at this activity so quickly was thanks to Charlie’s genes in him, and Kai should’ve anticipated that before giving her such an easy chance to make fun of him.

“Mom, you’re amazing at this!” Luca exclaimed as Charlie handed him the crane she had folded, “Look how neat the edges are, and the paper is still so smooth.” He admired the little crane from every angle as his violet eyes sparkled with awe.

“You’re not half bad yourself, kiddo.” Charlie laughed, pleased with how much Luca seemed to love her handiwork. She leaned her head on Kai’s shoulder and let out a content sight, “You, however, need to stick to sitting behind a desk and looking pretty.”

“Is that what you think I do at work?” Kai snorted, slightly relieved that she had decided not to rub his loss in his face and enjoy her victory peacefully.

“Honestly, I still have no clue what it is you do.”

Kai allowed himself to chuckle as he raised one hand to stroke the back of her head, they watched their son try to mimic Charlie’s speed of folding from earlier in silence. In the end, it didn’t seem like Luca would need Kai’s help in finishing this project, and while he was proud of his son for having learned a new skill, he wondered if he’d still be able to contribute to any of his other homework. He let his eyes drift over the room, hoping to find some project that was still lying unfinished that he could lend a hand to. He knew he would feel a bit dejected going back to work in a few days if he didn’t make sure that time spent with Luca had been meaningful and worthwhile for both of them.

Luckily for him, Charlie had always been able to read his mind effortlessly, so when she lifted her head from his shoulder suddenly, Kai knew that she’d already figured out how to solve his dilemma, even if he hadn't said a single word out loud.

“One thing I do know that you can do is make a killer soba sauce,” she said as she stood up, stretching her arms above her head and motioning for Kai to get on his feet too. Then she turned to their son and smiled wide, “What do you say, Lu-chan? Want to help your dad cook a nice cold soba meal to beat the heat?”

“Yes! I love cold soba!” Luca was on his feet in no time, both Kai and Charlie had to sound out a warning at the same time to keep him from stepping all over the paper cranes that lay on the floor as he bounded out of the room excitedly.

Before following him out, Kai leaned down to plant a kiss on Charlie’s forehead, smiling against her skin as he took in the smell of her citrusy shampoo, “Hasty on the roads, crafty with paper and quick at reading minds. Sometimes I wonder if I married a witch.”

“Careful now, Hiwatari.” She linked her arm with his as her mischievous laugh filled the room, “Or you might wake up as a paper crane tomorrow.”

#mayblade #mayblade 2023 #bakuten shoot beyblade #beyblade #beyblade fanficition #kai hiwatari #oc #kaixoc #kairlie #oc: charlie takaishi/ando #oc: luca hiwatari #writealot #not sure if it will be posted anywhere #i really wanted to write something featuring luca #and this prompt just screamed silly kairlie rivalry shenaningans #so i just rolled with it #enjoy #or don't #idc either way since i enjoyed writing it

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starlight-time-machine · 2 months

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Week in Review

03/10/2024 – 03/16/2024

Sunday

Week 5 of missing Cipher Academy.

Monday

I was pretty excited for today’s episode of Game Changer, because the Sam Says episodes are usually some of the best and I love Lou, Jacob, and Vic…but unfortunately this one fell short of my expectations. The general vibe felt like they pushed slightly too far into the psychological torture range, and the players didn’t really put up a good fight so it was just beat down after beat down, coupled with really hard prompts that cost them tens of points at a time. And what was the purpose of the swear jar if those points didn’t end up going to anyone…just another kind of mean thing to tack onto their other commands… The episode ending with everyone losing a bunch of points and Jacob only winning by chance feels like such a far cry from the mind-boggling triumph that Ally ended the last Sam Says episode on. I don’t know, I think this game might be getting a little stale, and unless they can get players who can match Sam beat for beat, future episodes are just going to keep raising the stakes and making the players miserable, and I don’t really want to watch that.

Manga Monday time…Girl Meets Rock is fun. I genuinely forgot that Tamaki existed, but she works well as a stand-in. My points about the other possible guitar members still stand, though. Also fun to see Rin continuing her weird girl era.

Undead Unluck is great, it’s so gratifying to get these lore drops every chapter. And Top getting his super bombastic literally around the world finishing move is fantastic, and a great cap on this arc.

RuriDragon is okay…someone did a Twitter thread praising its translation, so now I overanalyze the dialogue whenever I read it…and it actually kind of annoys me. The writing strikes me as trying a little too hard to be young and modern, but the translator doesn’t actually know what young people talk like. The mom’s dialogue felt the most egregious to me – I get that she’s supposed to be like a millennial mom, but the way they wrote her dialogue feels so unnatural and stilted…it got to the point where it was actively hampering my enjoyment. But I don’t want to come across like a bad faith “all localization bad” Twitter guy…and I often have this same complaint with the dialogue of adult fiction novels, so it might just be me who’s the fringe weirdo who doesn’t know what normal people sound like. It was cute seeing Ruri and her mom hang out, though, I feel like we don’t get a lot of strong mother daughter relationships in anime or manga. But if I’m being honest…I do want the story to get some sort of direction soon…otherwise I think I might drop it.

I can’t believe they did the “only one bed” trope in Dandadan. I like the frog design sense of this world… Momo and Zuma are a cute duo, and the last scene was super sweet, but I couldn’t bring myself to enjoy it because not only are Momo and Otarun obviously endgame, it’s kind of tiring that all three conventionally attractive guys in this friend group are interested in Momo (I mean the mecha otaku guy is also interested, but it’s played off as a joke because of course it is)… I can accept it with Jiji because the “childhood friend with whom you have a different sort of bond” thing was an interesting dynamic, especially as Jiji and Otarun became friends in their own right, but this is getting a little ridiculous… I need the non-Momo and non-Otarun members of this group to start being interested in each other!!! Give me some unexpected ship fodder!!! It’s ripe for fun teen drama, why are we concentrating all the guys on Momo and half the girls on Otarun when, by default, a bunch of those affections are going to end in failure?? Ugh.

Magilumiere whatever. Shigemoto and Sakura bonding was cute, but the rest of the chapter was just typical basic manga comedy stuff. Oh no this anime girl made some shockingly bad food, who could’ve guessed…

Chainsaw Man okay…I’ve been trying to ignore it, because being a mangaka is such a hazardous career and we’ve lost so many big names in recent years…but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the more detailed art style of Part 1. Finer linework aside, even the panel layouts of Part 1 felt more memorable and unique…it’s just a bit of a shame. I guess I just wish the whole industry was better, but there’d have to be so many changes for that to happen.

I can’t tell if I’m just having an off day where I find everything annoying, or if everything being slightly disappointing is making me have a bad day…agh.

Okay, at least the Undead Unluck episode was pretty good. The constant stops for attack name title cards were a little annoying for the fight’s momentum, but I get that they’re just trying to emulate the pop that those titles have in the manga. I appreciated some of the artsy direction, like Juiz shoving Remember in Victor’s head or the Andy/Fuuko kiss at the end…that panel was what got me to read the manga in the first place, so I have a soft spot for it. It’s also fun that this episode released around when the new manga chapter did, as we have these parallel discussions about soul and what they mean in the context of this world’s rules…it’s impressive that Tozuka really had things planned out to this extent.

Rewatched Succession season 3 episode 3 because I wanted to feel something (and watch something good to make up for the rest of today). This episode holds a special place in my heart for being the one where, when I watched it for the first time, I finally “got” the show. I had enjoyed season 1 and 2 a decent amount, but I kept waiting for bigger and more dramatic moments typical to a corporate drama, only to feel let down by the bathos and subtlety that Succession often likes to employ. But this episode was the one where everything finally clicked for me, and I understood the themes and tone that the show was trying to convey. The shifts of power between Kendall and Shiv are so subtle but gratifying to watch play out as this conflict intersects between the corporate and the personal and the familial – the Rape Me scene and the long Kendall walk down the hallway are both already all-timers, but the FBI raid at the end and Kendall watching it with the most ambiguous expression on his face is really just the cherry on top. As always, everything in Succession is firing on all cylinders at all times, but it’s done so masterfully that you don’t even notice it unless you’re actively thinking about it. It’s such a feast.

Tuesday

Against my better judgement, I’m watching Evilive, another Korean drama. I haven’t had good luck with K-dramas in the past (I’ve only watched two but they both pissed me off), and I’m sure this one is also rife with over the top ridiculous drama that’ll annoy me (oh boy this guy’s the EVILEST GUY and he’s gonna drag this other guy into his OHOHO EVIL SCHEMES for the ULTIMATE EVIL), but…goddammit the gifs of the big evil guy interacting with the older glasses guy were so intensely yaoiful that I had to see what this was about… They may not actually be gay, but I can enjoy the tension nonetheless.

So far it’s been okay. There were some eye-rolly moments, but I also enjoyed some of the more artful direction and shot composition.

Wednesday

Started watching Nisemonogatari because I needed something to pair with my dinner and it’s pretty fun so far. As ever, Monogatari’s set design feels so surreal but familiar, like they’re trying to capture the feeling of a location rather than its actual architecture. I think it’s fair to say that that’s my favourite part of the show so far. I only got through two episodes, and they’re a bit slow in terms of story, but I’m looking forward to learning more about Araragi’s little sisters.

Thursday

粉蒸肉 and DunMesh make a great pair, especially when today’s episode was as fantastic as I was hoping it’d be. It had an equal dose of everything – kinetic action, comedic moments, genuinely harrowing stakes, and a great hook for the ending. It was a given that the group’s well laid plans last episode would immediately go awry, but seeing each member of the group improvise and contribute their skills to the eventual victory is incredibly satisfying (as Laios says, they couldn’t have done it without everyone being there. Shoutout to Chilchuck for the knife throw that made me yell out loud when I read it for the first time). But Laios sacrificing his leg to get the kill is the highlight of the fight, and it really demonstrated his determination and love for Falin. I also love how they had to systematically cut through the dragon’s organs before finally finding Falin’s bones – DunMesh’s down to earth approach to the cycle of life and death and consumption makes their task feel all the more insurmountable and real. I really can’t wait to see this arc conclude next episode. (Also Marcille’s magic runes had sound effects that reminded me of Cardcaptor Sakura, and I liked that.)

Friday

I’m happy to see that Undead Unluck is continuing its strong episode streak, especially when Anno Un is one of my favourite characters and his backstory is so uniquely painful and heartwrenching…his family just being him and his mom drives the tragedy home even more when he seemingly disappears… But Anno finding meaning in his art is so important to me personally, and I feel like Tozuka really poured his heart out through this character. The other highlight of the episode was BUNNY!!!!!!!!!!!!! BABY GIRL AGOO BNUUY!!!!!!!!!!! SHE’S SOOOOOOOOO CUTE AND BABY AHHHHHHHHH She’s reading manga!!!! NOOO SHE’S GETTING SLAPPING AND TOSSED AROUND AND HER LITTLE “WEH” AND THE WAY SHE’S SO SQUISHY AND ROUND AHHHHHHHHHH This was such a good episode. AND THE PREVIEW WITHOUT ANY NARRATION WAS SO CHILLING AND THEMATICALLY APPROPRIATE BECAUSE NOW ANNO DOESN’T KNOW WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Also wow Sean really got sliced in half huh. RIP, you’ll do better next time.

Saturday

Went outside for once, so there’s nothing for today.

#week in review #2024

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gamerswift13 · 1 year

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Birds!

Featuring the first cross-post with Tumblr!

Kia ora, friends!

Before I begin, I just want to say... hello again! (and sorry about the weird AI-generated bird)

It's been quite a while since I posted here, but that's all changing as of today. For a few months I've been writing a Substack publication about my personal fiction-writing and a bit about videogames as well, and I decided I should try something new to reach some more people. I was listening, today, to an episode of the excellent Decoder podcast from The Verge and Nilay Patel with the CEO of Tumblr and I thought, "I have a tumblr! Maybe I should use it?" so here I am. This is my most recent post, and while I'm looking for a solution to port all of my other posts over to Tumblr, I don't feel hopeful, so at least for now, you can read all of those here, and subscribe to get new posts in your inbox every Monday at 8:00AM NZST. Going forward, I will also be posting my new stuff here at the same time and date, so look out for that!

Anyway, let's dig in.

Now, if you know anything about me from Twitter or Mastodon at this point, it probably won’t surprise you to know that a bunch of my writing prompts literally come from dreams I’ve had. I figure, if it worked for Stephenie Meyer, why not me, right? Not all of my dream ideas have been good ones, and often I don’t even remember them fully, but there’s a core idea that sticks in my brain. You might remember this post from a couple of weeks ago where I woke up to a text I’d sent myself that just said “New Bees”, and while I had no idea what I had meant by that, those two words still worked for me as a great prompt - and I was pretty happy with what I ended up with.

That brings me to today’s item: Bird After Bird. I’m hesitant to call this, in it’s current form at least, a story - it’s more a description of an occurrance, if that makes sense. This is probably not something I am going to revisit any time soon because the concept is so surreal and otherworldly to me right now, but it might come up again later if I add to it, or if I have the dream again and remember more of it. Now, I’ll get to what I’ve written in a sec, but I want to put a quick content warning here; this one contains some birds being killed, so if you’re not down with that, maybe skip this one. There’s nothing graphic or gory, but it is explicitly mentioned and described. Okay, now if you’re cool with that, let’s get into the… thing I wrote.

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

She was picking up bird after bird from the benchtop beside her, giving them a quick knock on the backs of their necks with the handle of a knife to instantly kill them, and then placing them in a bowl at her other side. The birds sat patiently there, awaiting their turn, chirping amongst themselves, as one after another met their end. I was confused, and concerned.

"What was happening here? What is its purpose?"

And she stood there, the scene practically silent, except for the soft chirping of the birds and the dull blow of the knife handle. I watched her, motionless. She knew I was there but did not acknowledge me. “I don’t know why, but there must be a reason,” I heard myself say, and it seemed to comfort her. She didn’t reply, she just kept picking up the birds, swiftly killing them, and placing them into the bowl.

We stood there for hours. The birds kept coming, she kept working, and the bowl… never seemed to get full. Time seemed to be standing still; the sun had not moved in the sky, and the wisps of cloud in front of it remained. The air was cool and crisp and still.

I felt that I loved her, and she loved me, but the birds kept lining up next to her, one after the other, offering themselves to her knife, to her bowl. What did it mean? I asked her, but again she didn’t respond. Whatever the purpose of this action was, it seemed to be beyond us both, maybe even the birds themselves.

“I don’t know why, but there must be a reason.”

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And that’s it. I felt really weird writing this, like it’s a memory that doesn’t make sense? I hope you all liked this, or at least found it interesting. I might look at doing more writing like this at some point, so let me know if that’s something you’d like to see. As always you can hit me up at the links at the bottom of the page, and if you want to see some more of my writing you can check out my Letterboxd - I recently reviewed M3GAN and it seems like I liked it more than a lot of people! 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

Thanks so much for reading, everyone. I’ll talk to you all again soon.

Ka kite anō au i a koe. 💚

#fiction #surreal #short story #dream #queer writers #trans writers #lgbtqia+#non-binary writers #otautahi #christchurch #aotearoa #new zealand #writing #creative writing #writers of tumblr #writers of aotearoa #writers of new zealand

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raibebe · 3 years

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Love Is On Air

Genre: fluff & smut Words: 8.722 Prompt: radio host Johnny x secret admirer female reader Warnings: soft dom Johnny, oral (f receiving), safe sex, dirty talk

A/N: Finally: My entry for the February event of my lovely network @neosmutcollective. This is totally not the fic I planned on writing. In fact this was started way later after I realized I was never going to finish my original fic on time. Not that this one is on time... Special thanks to everyone who sent our lovely DJs some music recommendations @sly-merlin, @moonctzeny, @lenaluvs, @lucas-wongs, @burtonized and to @ncteaxhoe who helped me figure out this idea. I hope you enjoy this even though it’s wayyy too late.

You hurried home to your apartment after your last class of the day that was horrifically late because of whoever had fucked up your schedule this semester. Panting heavily, you busted into your room and threw your jacket and backpack somewhere onto your couch, diving straight for your laptop that was perched on your desk. Cursing the old thing, you waited for agonizing minutes until it had booted up and your browser was open. You quickly opened the familiar page of your university’s campus radio just in time to hear the familiar voice saying: “Hi I’m John-D, welcome to NCT Night Night.” After that both hosts chuckled lowly before Jaehyun spoke: “Tonight we’ll read some of the letters you wrote us over the week again and we will try our best to help you out with whatever problems you throw our way.” “Exactly. Right after we play this song that was suggested by evangelie_99 over on our Twitter, it’s Pluto Projector by Rex Orange County and she said that she loves our show. We’re glad you like it so much, darling. This one is for you,” Johnny softly said before the soft tunes of the song filled your little one-room apartment.

Sighing, you leaned back in your chair, carelessly toeing your shoes off. Listening to NCT Night Night was your escape at night from the stress that classes brought you. The two DJs that were on air every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday were your favorites though. Not only did they have great chemistry but they both could be incredibly funny as well as soothe all your nerves with their calming voices – especially Johnny or John-D as he was called on their show. You might have developed a slightly embarrassing crush on the fratboy with a heart as sweet as his voice from what you knew about him from his radio shows and your shared classes. Since they had started their weekly segment where they would read out letters that students could send them, you had gathered the courage to send Johnny little messages about how you were crushing on him and it had quickly become a running gag on the show. Jaehyun would tease Johnny about it every week while Johnny kept insisting that his secret admirer should just talk to him. But how could you do that? Johnny was everything one could want in a boyfriend. Not only was he ridiculously tall and devastatingly handsome but he was also smart, always seemingly staying on top of his classes and he also went to the gym regularly if his thirst traps on his Instagram stories were anything to go by. When he wasn’t giving out advice in a gentle voice on their radio program, he was out partying with his frat brothers on the weekends more often than not complaining about headaches on their Sunday show. How could you just walk up to him and talk to him? Right. You couldn’t. So you had to resign to sending him anonymous love letters through his radio show.

“Welcome back, hi,” Johnny chuckled once the song had gently faded out and you couldn’t help but giggle along. “That was Pluto Projector by Rex Orange County,” Jaehyun tried to stay on script but you could almost hear the grin on his face because of Johnny’s antics, “If you want your song to play on today’s show, please suggest something over on our Twitter with the hashtag,” Jaehyun paused momentarily and let out a dramatic sigh before continuing, “hashtag JohnDplaymelikeaviolin.” Jaehyun hadn’t even read the whole hashtag out loud when Johnny was already bursting out in laughter and how could you not laugh along with his melodic laughter. ��I swear to god I am never letting you choose hashtags for our show ever again,” Jaehyun groaned while Johnny sounded like he was still dying in the background. “Don’t be mean to me Jaehyunie,” he whined and even though today’s episode was not viewable, you could vividly imagine how he was pouting. While the two friends were busy bickering and talking about what they had done since their last show, you pulled up your own Twitter to send a recommendation in.

“Aaaah, I see we’re already getting plenty of suggestions. Sly-merlin suggested us Sexy Dirty Love by Demi Lovato – a great song – and added ‘I wish John-D would actually play me like a violin.” After a potent silence, Johnny broke out in laughter again. “And this is why you won’t choose any more hashtags,” Jaehyun groaned again. “Baby,” Johnny rasped into his mic and even though you weren’t wearing headphones, it sent tingles down your spine, “Just come to our frat party on Friday and I’ll see what I can do.” “Stop plugging our parties on the radio,” Jaehyun scolded the elder, the slap audible over the radio, “Also sly-merlin has to stand in line. You still have your number one admirer who has sent in a letter yet again.” “She still hasn’t come up to me,” Johnny shared, “I can only keep up my chastity for so long. I am saving myself for this girl.” You know he was joking but you were just a simple woman and even in your secluded home, you felt heat rising to your cheeks, your thumbs stopping on your keyboard where you had typed out your song recommendation. Both DJs shared a quiet laugh before Jaehyun asked: “And you really don’t know who she is?” “I really don’t man,” his friend sighed, “Like I have my suspicions because she has to be in my major if she sees me in class that often. That or she’s a stalker which I do not want to think about. But for real, hit me up. I’ll take you out for a coffee.” “Now everyone is going to come up to you and claim that they’re her.” “I’ll take that risk,” Johnny laughed, “Maybe I’ll finally meet the love of my life and settle down.” At that Jaehyun snorted loudly. “The woman that can make you settle down gets free coffee for like a month from me.” “Watch me have a wife and kids at 25 Jae, just to spite you,” his friend snorted, “But up until then, let’s play sly-merlin’s song recommendation: Sexy Dirty Love by Demi Lovato.”

While the song was playing, you finished up your own tweet and hit post before you grabbed your bag that you had carelessly thrown away before to get out your notes. You actually had to start a project for one of the classes you and Johnny actually did share. The professor had announced that he would announce the pairings for a group project tomorrow and you didn’t want to seem like an actual idiot if your group would decide to already meet up and discuss after class. So while you listened to your favorite DJs discuss the questions and worries of whoever had sent them to their email address, you worked through the notes you had taken over the last couple of weeks, trying your best to organize them to remember the key points.

“Oh John-D, I have a very special letter here,” Jaehyun said, waving the paper in front of the microphone so it would pick up the wiggling noises. “What could that be?” Johnny asked with over-exaggerated interest. “It’s from your secret admirer, John-D. So I think you should read it out.” Just like every time, they read your letter, your heart began beating faster and faster in your chest until you were sure, it would break free from your ribcage. “Okay, here I go,” Johnny announced while Jaehyun was playing the same cheesy music he always played when they were reading your letters, “Happy Thursday, John-D. The weekend is almost in reach, keep up the energy for the last day of classes! – she’s so sweet, I’m holding up alright – One of my professors will announce the pairings he made for a group project soon and I am nervous. I don’t have many friends in the course and I’m praying that I will get good group mates I can work well with.” “Oooh, I get that struggle,” Jaehyun interrupted, “I once had to work with a bunch of stoners and ended up doing all the work for a presentation that made up 30 percent of my grade. Worst experience of my life, would not recommend. But we’re wishing you all the luck.” “But you know what’s more interesting about this story?” Johnny tuned in, “Coincidentally my professor for my literature class is assigning our group projects tomorrow as well. Say, my sweet admirer, are you perhaps in the same literature class as me?” In your otherwise silent room, the panicked squeak you let out was loud even to your ears. There was no way Johnny could figure out who you were, there were probably at least 20 more girls with a crush on him in that class alone, so you were safe. “Oooh, so maybe she’s a lit major so that’s why she’s writing love letters.” “Could be but lots of people from different majors are taking that class,” Johnny argued, “Anyways, back to her letter. But I won’t let that disturb me! I will be doing my best regardless! – That’s the spirit – I’ll work through my notes as I listen to your honey voice so I can be prepared. I’m glad you don’t do viewable radios on Thursday’s or else I wouldn’t be able to get anything done, you’re just too distracting John-D,” at that Jaehyun let out a fake gag while Johnny just giggled softly, “Thank you secret admirer, I do clean up quite nicely if I do say so myself. – On last Sunday’s episode you melted my heart when you hid in your hoodie for half the show. – God that was the worst hangover I had in a looong while, I was so miserable.”

“You should have seen him at home,” Jaehyun laughed, “I had to physically drag his whole 180-something-centimeters body first into the shower, then into the car and into the station. He is the biggest crybaby when he’s hungover.” “Don’t expose me like that, Jaehyunie,” Johnny whined loudly, “I was dared to drink a bunch of tequila and my mother didn’t raise neither a quitter nor a coward.” “No, but clearly an idiot,” the younger DJ laughed his deep laugh. “Let me read my love letter in peace,” the other grumbled, “I couldn’t follow for half the show because I was so focused on watching you. Not in a creepy way of course! – Of course not,” Johnny chuckled, “I hope you finished that essay you had to work on after the show in time and still had some time to relax. – I did, don’t worry.” That you already knew when Johnny had handed in his essay in another class you two shared just before you had handed in yours and he had thrown you a little smile that had kept you going through the whole day. “Take care of yourself and keep smiling your beautiful smile, I look forward to seeing you again on Sunday or in classes. And fighting to Jae-D as well of course! – I look forward to hearing from you again, secret admirer. I bet your group project will go just fine, don’t worry too much. If anyone is mean to you, just expose them here and we’ll fight them for you.” “Love that she acknowledged me in one sentence as well,” Jaehyun grumbled, cutting off the cheesy music abruptly. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a sweet admirer who sends you cute messages,” the other teased his friend. “Yeah, yeah, shut up and put that letter in the box under your bed.” “It’s in my sock drawer, thank you very much.”

Giggling, you listened to the two friends bicker, your chest warm with a feeling you were scared to put a name on. “Anyways, I think it’s time for another music recommendation you can still send in via our lovely hashtag JohnDplaymelikeaviolin. This one is from lenaluvies and she says: Please play Hurts So Good by Astrid S thank you. No, thank you for sending something in darling. This one’s for you,” Johnny announced and you couldn’t help but laugh a little pained laugh. That song title hit a little too close to home for your liking. The rest of the radio show went by smoothly and Johnny and Jaehyun tried to help a handful of more students with their problems that couldn’t be more diverse. From a boy who had fallen in love with his best friend which had send him into an identity crisis over to a girl who was failing her classes because she claimed the professor hated her to a freshman who wanted to apply for a fraternity but was scared because of the rumors surrounding them which the DJs quickly debunked since they both were in the same fraternity. In the end they had to cut themselves short, asking their viewers to vote on a poll they would make if people wanted a whole Tuesday episode surrounding fraternities.

“So.” “So,” Johnny copied his friend. “We’re almost at the end of our time with you guys. We couldn’t get through all of your submissions but we hope our team picked a few good ones and at least some of you could get some advice.” “As always you’re free to send us your own stories to our e-mail [email protected] to get some advice next Thursday from your favorite DJs: John-D.” “And Jae-D. Every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday on your campus radio on 127mHz. On NCT-“ “Night Night,” they said their ending together and just like every night with them, you said goodnight to your computer screen, closing the tab which draped your little apartment in silence. Sighing loudly, you looked over your notes that needed a little more work if you wanted to make a good first impression on your fellow students tomorrow. Because you couldn’t stand the silence, you opened your Spotify to play the NCT Night Night playlist Johnny and Jaehyun had made with the songs that had been recommended to them, still missing the new additions from tonight.

The next morning found you in your literature class, sitting two rows behind Johnny, staring at the back of his head while doodling on your paper rather than taking notes on whatever the professor was saying. If you were to let your eyes wander, you’d see that almost everyone in the big room was paying as much or even less attention as you were; the students in different states of excitement and anxiety over the group projects he had yet to announce. “I’m sorry professor,” Johnny’s voice suddenly cut through the room, “I’m sure you have already noticed that no one is paying attention to whatever you’re trying to teach us right now. Could you please just announce the groups for the project?” That moment you swore you would be able to hear a pin drop until your eccentric professor chuckled lowly. “I like you, Suh. I was waiting for someone to mention it,” he spoke, getting the dreaded list out of his bag, “Listen closely now, you’ll be assigned in groups of four and each group will get a specific novel to work on. Deadline will be by the end of the semester and your individual paper combined with the group presentation will make up 40% of your final grade.” That made a bunch of people, including you, gasp out loudly. A group project with this much credit to your final grade was always dreaded. “I don’t want to hear any complaints, that’s how it’s always been. Now listen carefully, I won’t repeat myself but the list will be hung on our blackboard as well.” With that being said, the professor began listing names and novels in the most monotone voice he could muster. To say you were basically vibrating off of your seat was an understatement when he got further and further down the list and neither yours nor Johnny’s name had been called yet. “And lastly, an all-time favorite: Romeo and Juliet.” You didn’t even register anything else after the professor had announced that the group featured both Johnny and you along with two other students you didn’t know. Your brain was reduced to static noise while everyone else was getting up around you to pick up the books that had already been stacked in a corner, probably by a poor TA. Only when a person bumped into you, you broke from your stupor to quickly pick up your stuff as well to hurry down to steps to where a crowd of students had already gathered.

Luckily Johnny towered over most of the other students and you could easily spot him and the rest of your group that were two other boys you didn’t recognize. “Hey, you’re the last one we were missing,” Johnny smiled and handed you over your copy of the book. “Y... Yeah, sorry for making you wait,” you stuttered, clutching the small book tightly in your hands. “No big deal,” Johnny played it off, “Do any of you have any more classes today?” When everyone declined, you all agreed that you should get a head start on your project as it would be hard to make a good project out of such an overused love story. While walking over to the student center to decide on a concept, conversation flowed easily between the four of you even though you were still really nervous to be around Johnny. God, you really hoped he didn’t think you were stupid or something just because you were nervous.

The little study session went by in a blur and only further confirmed that you were so whipped for Johnny it wasn’t even funny anymore. You found yourself attentively listening to all of his ideas and laughing at every of his stupid little jokes and only mildly spacing out while looking at Johnny when the others were discussing ideas which had led to one or two mildly embarrassing situations where you would lose track of what you were actually discussing, your mind blank of any input when they asked for your opinion.

Soon you found yourself parting ways with your groupmates, leaving you and Johnny alone because his frat house and your little apartment were located in the same general direction. “Anything fun you’re doing this evening?” Johnny asked, trying to make some light conversation to fill the silence. “No, I’ll just binge watch some shows maybe or listen to the campus radio,” you shrugged it off. While today’s show wasn’t your favorite, you quite liked the DJs soft and gentle voice. “You listen to the campus radio? I have a show on there,” Johnny smiled. “I like listening to you and Jaehyun,” you confessed, trying to fight the heat that was licking at your cheeks. “Oh.” “You seem surprised.” “Yeah, it kind of still seems weird that people enjoy listening to Jae and me rambling for hours on end. You know with him it just feels like I’m hanging out with my brother rather than work.” “Your voices are really soothing, you know,” you tried to explain what you were feeling when listing to them, “And your friendship is kind of adorable. Like we can feel how much you care about each other and you always genuinely try to help your listeners without making fun of them.” For a while Johnny didn’t say anything and you thought you had fucked it up, that he thought you were weird now. “Thank you,” he suddenly said. “Huh?” “It means a lot hearing that. We do lurk on Twitter to see what people think of our show but hearing it like this is something else entirely.” “It’s nothing,” you mused, playfully hitting his arm, “No need to get this soft.” “Hey,” he laughed, “I’ll have you know that I am 180 centimeters of walking softness despite what people might say about me.” Smiling softly you caught his eyes for the first time since you two had started walking and the way his honey eyes were smiling back at you momentarily took your breath away.

“I- My room is right around here, sooooo,” you stuttered. “It was nice working with you. Even though you were spacing out half the time,” Johnny teased, “Thinking about a special someone?” You. The word sat on the tip of your tongue, the low light of the afternoon sun making you bolder than you actually were and Johnny just made you feel incredibly comfortable. “No... No- I- I’m single.” “A crush then?” “Something like that,” you mumbled, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your jacket. “Talk to him. Or her. Or them,” Johnny advised. “I really can’t,” you sighed, “He doesn’t even know I exist.” “Well you don’t need to confess your undying love for him,” he laughed, not knowing he was the boy in question, “Just you know. Casually talk to him. Get to know him.” “I’ll try?” “Is that a question?” “Yeah?” “Have more confidence in yourself,” he gently nudged you, “You’re nice and very easy to talk to.” “Nice... Wow.” “Shut up,” he laughed, “I usually give better compliments but I have yet to get to know you better.” “Would you... Would you even want that?” “Sure,” Johnny shrugged and your heart skipped a couple of beats, “I have to get going or everybody will already be drunk when I arrive. So... I’ll see you in class? And you’ll hear me on Sunday?” “Yeah sure. Don’t drink too much or you will be miserable all show like last week,” you giggled. “Don’t remind me,” he groaned, “I’m never going to drink tequila on a Saturday ever again.” “Goodbye Johnny,” you smiled, really liking how his name sounded when you said it out loud. “Bye,” he waved before going his way.

Once you were sure he was out of hearing distance, you let out a little happy squeak and jumped up and down excitedly. You did it. You had actually done it. You had talked to your crush. And managed to not make a complete fool out of yourself in front of him. Which was a win in your books. A huge win. With a little spring in your steps, you stepped by one of your favorite pizza places to treat yourself before heading home where you spend your evening daydreaming about none other than Johnny while watching reruns of old dramas.

“Hi, I’m Jae-D.” “And I am John-D. Welcome to NCT-“ “Night Night.” “John-D.” “Yes, Jae-D,” Johnny chuckled. “It’s Thursday again which means it’s time to tend to our listener’s worries,” Jaehyun read off of the script, not getting distracted by his friend’s antics, “And today is a very special episode.” “Special?” Jaehyun barely repressed to roll his eyes at his friend’s over-exaggerated acting before continuing: “Yes, since tomorrow is a day off for all students, we have decided to make this episode extra lengthy and-“ he shortly stopped to flash the camera a peace sign, “Viewable despite it being Thursday.” “Do we look okay?” Johnny laughed, checking himself out in the video that was playing on one of their monitors. “Aaaaah, the comments say we look good tonight, thank you,” Jaehyun mused.

And they really did. Not that either of them had to do a whole lot to look good but today they were both wearing white button-downs with their sleeves rolled up to expose their forearms. Jaehyun had even gone so far as to put on some fake glasses. “And if you’re following us on our Twitter you also already know that this week it’s all about love on our campus radio and our show today is no exception,” Johnny read his part of the script. “Today John-D and Jae-D are Loveholics, trying our very best to help you with your problems surrounding love,” Jaehyun completed, “You can send in song recommendations through the hashtag JohnJaeLoveholic just like taryn1026 did – I hope I said that right – but they recommended Paris in the Rain by Lauv to set the mood for today.”

The soft tunes of the song made you relax a little into your sofa where you had chosen to watch today’s episode of NCT Night Night. You had to say that you were kind of nervous for today’s episode. Just like every week you had written your letter to Johnny, telling him about your week and cheering him on for your group project. At this point it should have been pretty obvious just who exactly you were and judging by how Johnny was acting towards you, his flirting leaving you flustered after your study sessions and your group mates mildly annoyed, he seemed to already have put together the pieces. But yesterday while writing your letter you had felt extra bold (and maybe also extra riled up and horny from Johnny’s shameless flirting) and had written him a message that should confirm all his suspicions and would hopefully lead him straight to you and into your bed. But until the end of the show or at least until they read your letter, which you really hoped they did today as well, you had to wait sitting in your apartment, for once not in comfortable clothes but in a nice shirt and pants.

“That was Paris in the Rain by Lauv, recommended to us by taryn1026 through our Twitter with the hashtag JohnJaeLoveholic,” Johnny’s raspy voice filled your apartment when he leaned close to the mic, “Jae-D are you ready to make some love happen?” “I already had my love juice,” Jaehyun answered, showing his pink Starbucks drink to the camera, “And my reading glasses are on.” As to prove his point, he hiked his glasses up his nose before scratching his eye through the holes in the frame, making both DJs chuckle. For the next hour Johnny and Jaehyun tried to solve several relationship dramas as well as a very tricky friends-with-benefits situation and telling a boy to break up with his cheating girlfriend which had been a rather heartbreaking discussion. “So after this,” Jaehyun sighed, “Let’s play another song recommendation. Burtonized has sent in a very fitting song, I hope you all don’t mind a little Korean: It’s God Damn by I.M – a song about heartbreak.”

While the foreign song was playing, the two DJs stretched their backs and sipped on their respective drinks: Jaehyun still on his pink sugar concoction and Johnny already on his second iced Americano. Jaehyun must have found something funny on his phone, nudging his friend to look at him but Johnny was busy typing away on his own, only acknowledging his friend after he had typed his message. Just after that, your own phone buzzed with a message, showing Johnny’s name on the screen.

From: Johnny Are you watching our show?

To: Johnny Sure, you look good today

From: Johnny Make sure to listen closely ;)

“That was God Damn by I.M suggested by burtonized over our Twitter hashtag JohnJaeLoveholic,” Jaehyun’s smooth voice tore you from your spiraling thoughts about the winking face Johnny had sent. “Sadly our show is coming to an end even with our extended airtime.” “But John-D a very important letter is still missing before we close our show. Dare I say it could be the highlight of our show,” Jaehyun joked, already playing the cheesy music he was always playing when Johnny would read your letters. “You’re right Jae-D my lovely secret admirer has sent in another letter,” Johnny mused, arranging himself so he could read the printed out letter while being as close as possible to the mic for it to pick up the rasp in his voice, “Happy Thursday John-D, I hope your week has been more exciting than mine. I have just been going from class to class without much thought, the only high points are my group meetings for the group project we have to hand in soon – That seems very familiar, baby – But since today is all about love, I’ll tell you about a little problem I have: – get your love juice ready, Jae – There is this boy in my group. And boy isn’t really the right word to describe him, he’s a man really,” at that Johnny couldn’t hold back a low chuckle, “I’m sorry, I’ll be serious – And he is flirting with me. Has been for a couple of weeks now. And it has gotten to the point where our groupmates are kind of annoyed at us. He has also walked me home a couple of times but he never so much as touched me. At this point I am so frustrated with him. Is he just playing with me? Or is his mouth bigger than his actions actually are? He has been riling me up all day today and I was ready to let him have his way with me but he only wished me goodnight and left again, leaving me to deal with what he had done all by myself – oh wow, I,” Johnny stuttered, sharing a gaze with his friend who was only barely repressing his laughter, “Wow, okay, I hope we’re in the good for reading this out and it’s late enough,” clearing his voice and raking a hand through his hair, Johnny continued, “John-D I hope this man hears what he has done to me and will deal with the consequences of his actions. Would you play Animal by Jin Yosef and RIELL for me? Just in case this letter hasn’t gotten my point across? – Y... Yeah sure, darling. We’ll play that once our show is over.”

“So John-D,” Jaehyun grinned while loudly slurping on his ‘love juice’, “What would you advice your secret admirer to do about this problem?” “Well if I were her,” Johnny started, his gaze going straight to the camera where he knew you were watching and it felt like he was looking straight into your soul, “I’d wait for him. I’m pretty sure he can prove that his actions speak even louder than his words.” For a while it was quiet between the two DJs, safe for Jaehyun’s obnoxiously loud slurping noises but even if they would have been saying anything, you weren’t sure if you could have comprehended any words with how furiously your heart was beating. “Anyways,” Jaehyun eventually broke the silence once he was sure there was nothing left in his ‘love juice’, “I’m afraid that was it for tonight. This has been your extra lengthy episode of Jae-D and John-D and we will leave you with this wonderful song recommendation: Animal by Jin Yosef and RIELL. If you’ve liked today’s show, we’re here every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday night on your campus radio on 127mHz to listen to all of your worries on NCT-“ “Night Night,” Johnny joined in and they both waved into the camera as your song of choice started playing. The video stream didn’t cut off immediately, showing the boys gathering their things and if your eyes weren’t betraying you, you swore you saw Johnny tense up when the song turned a little more explicit. The two DJs waved to the camera one last time before the stream cut off, leaving the screen of your laptop dark.

That was when it dawned on you what you had done. Shit. With how Johnny had sounded, you probably had about fifteen to twenty minutes until he would be at your doorstep. Oh god. Shit. Taking a couple of deep breaths, you tried to ground yourself before hurriedly closing your laptop and cleaning everything that seemed messy in your little one-room apartment. That was until you heard a knock on your door.

With shaky hands, you slowly opened the door and while you knew who would be standing on the other side, you weren’t ready for how he was going to look like: Johnny was leaning against the doorway casually with his arms crossed over his chest so the tight button-down he was wearing would strain over the planes of his chest muscles but what really reeled you in was how dark his eyes looked when he raked them over your body. “Good evening miss,” he drawled. “Hi,” you breathed. “Tell me what you want so I’m not misinterpreting any of this,” Johnny all but growled, one of his hands coming up to cup your face. “I want you to have me.” If you thought his eyes were dark before, they turned into bottomless black orbs once the words had left your lips. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, baby.” “Please,” you whimpered and that seemed to break Johnny’s resolve as he pulled you close to him and all but crashed his lips into yours. The kiss wasn’t delicate in any way, shape or form with how Johnny was licking into your mouth the second a moan left your lips. His tongue was intertwining with yours messily and in no time both of you were panting into each other’s mouths. “Inside. Now,” you rasped. “All with due time,” Johnny chuckled but let you pull him into your apartment, slamming the door shut to crowd you against it, one of his strong thighs slipping between your legs like it belonged there, “If you’re a good girl and listen well, I’ll give you anything you want.” “Fuck,” you cursed before slamming your lips together again, a new neediness bleeding into the kiss as you tugged on the longer strands of hair at the back of Johnny’s neck which made him growl lowly. “Anything off-limits?” Johnny breathed into your skin as he kissed down your neck to suck a mark there while his hands were busy pulling your shirt from your pants so he could rake them over your naked skin. “Just,” you had to cut yourself off with a moan, “Don’t be mean to me.” “Never,” he promised, “You’ll be my pillow princess.” His sweet words were in stark contrast to how hard his hands were gripping your hips and how his teeth were grazing over your neck that must be littered with marks already. “Take me to bed,” you heaved breathlessly, positive your legs would give out if it wasn’t for Johnny holding you up.

Listening to your demand, he slowly started walking you backwards towards your bed until the two of you were toppling down on top of the covers, his lips never leaving your skin. Whoever had spread the rumors about Johnny being a great lover had been absolutely right, he knew just how to touch you to have you gasping for air and judging by the grin on his lips he hadn’t even started yet. “Please,” you whimpered, arching into his touch, not exactly sure what exactly you were asking for but Johnny seemed to know all the better when he freed you from your top and pants to leave you in your matching lace set while he was still fully clothed in his by now wrinkled button-up and pants. “All for me?” He chuckled and pressed a kiss right between the valley of your breasts, his big hands cupping the soft flesh to squeeze it gently. “Have me,” you gasped out and you could feel the growl he let out vibrating where you were pressed together. “I’m going to ruin you,” Johnny promised, pulling down the cups of your bra to wrap his plush lips around one of your nipples to tease the soft nub until it hardened under his ministrations, sending waves of pleasure down your spine and straight to your core where you could feel your wetness starting to seep into the fabric of your panties. “Johnny,” you mewled and arched into his every touch, his calloused fingertips setting your skin alight when he let them travel down your body to tease over your lower stomach. As if by reflex, you let your thighs fall open for him to finally touch you where you needed him the most. “Such a good girl,” he smiled, blowing cold air over your spit-slicked nipple to watch you squirm beneath him. Your remark got stuck in your throat when he finally cupped you through your panties, feeling how damp the fabric had already become. “Naughty,” he chuckled, his eyes never leaving your face as he circled your clit through the fabric, watching your eyes fluttering shut when his gaze became too intense.

“Johnny,” you sighed, forgetting all other words except for his name. “Relax, princess,” he rasped and kissed his way down your body, leaving love bites on the sensitive skin of your stomach and thighs that shook with anticipation. If you’d say you hadn’t dreamed about his lips on you like this, you would lie and you weren’t going to miss the sight of this for nothing. Fighting back the fog that had started to cloud your mind, you forced your eyes open to look down to where he had settled between your open thighs to find him staring right back at you. “Good girl,” he praised you again before pressing a kiss over your clothed sex that made your head fall back already, the anticipation of what was to come making you push up your hips which made Johnny chuckle lowly. He didn’t leave you any time to feel embarrassed by how needy you were when he hooked your panties to the side unceremoniously and licked a broad stripe up your center, tasting your arousal. “Oh fuck,” you breathed out, your hands flying down to tangle them in the long strands of his hair. Johnny worked his tongue in slow and clever strokes, leaving your mind reeling with pleasure and taking his time to take you apart piece by piece, not even paying attention to your leaking center or your aching clit. But when he did wrap his lips around your clit to gently suck on the nub, your mind almost went numb with how intense his touch was, your thighs clamping shut around him. To make it even worse, he started humming around you while prying your thighs back open, holding you down with his large hands. You felt your orgasm approach almost embarrassingly fast now that he was altering between teasing your clit with his tongue, lips and even his teeth and fucking your velvety walls with his tongue, setting your nerve endings on fire. “Johnny I’m close,” you warned him but instead of slowing down, he stretched his jaw wide to press his tongue further into you, his nose bumping into your clit in the process and with the combined sensation and his doubled effort, it took no time for your first orgasm of the night to wash over you, a scream of his name leaving your lips as you shook through it, your mind going equally as numb as your legs.

When you came back to it, Johnny had straightened up between your legs and he was grinning down at you while he was unbuttoning his shirt, his face still shiny with your arousal. “That was the first one,” he spoke darkly. “Come here,” you whined, making grabby hands for him until he took pity on you and covered your body with his before connecting your lips in a bruising kiss. You could still taste yourself on his lips but that somehow just made it even hotter.

“Want you inside me,” you panted against his lips when Johnny broke the kiss in favor of raking his teeth over your racing pulse. “Yeah?” He rasped and ground his hips down into yours, making you feel him strain against the fabric of his pants. “Need it,” you moaned at the sweet friction. “Think you can take me?” He laughed as he leaned back on his hunches to pop open the button of his pants, pulling down the zipper agonizingly slow. With wide eyes you watched him push his pants down his narrow hips, leaving him in just his navy boxers that showed the sizable imprint of his hard cock, the fabric against the head dark from where he had leaked precum. Chuckling, he stroked over the outline and just the sight alone made your mouth water. “Show me,” you breathed, spreading your thighs so he could see your needy core, clenching around nothing. “Hmm,” he hummed, dragging one of his fingers that wasn’t preoccupied with teasing himself through the mess of arousal and his saliva between your legs, only barely dipping it into you to feel the muscles trying to suck him inside. “Don’t tease me,” you whined high in your throat. “But I like seeing you squirm,” Johnny grinned but took mercy on you and sunk his finger into you up to the knuckle, gently pumping it inside you. Still sensitive from how intense your last orgasm had been, you were torn between pulling away and wanting more but Johnny made the decision for you when he pulled his finger out, wiping your arousal onto your thigh.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded and finally freed his cock from his briefs. “Fuck.” The curse left your lips without even noticing at the sight of his flushed cock, too heavy to properly stand up against his toned abs. The tip was tinted red and shiny with precum that Johnny generously spread down that whole length, his eyes not leaving yours as you watched him lazily jerk himself. “Like what you see?” You eagerly nodded your head. “Want it inside me.” “Yeah? Show me.”

Throwing all caution out of the window, you quickly sucked two of your fingers between your lips before guiding them to your weeping core to slip them inside you, letting out an over-exaggerated moan as you crooked them. “Oh you’re so naughty, baby,” Johnny groaned, squeezing the base of his cock tightly as he watched you fingering yourself and if you had even one coherent thought left in your head, you’d have the decency to be embarrassed because of how intensely he was staring. “It’s not enough,” you pouted, pulling your fingers free and spreading them to look at the slick covering them, “I’m so wet for you.” “Such a dirty mouth,” he groaned, quickly grabbing his pants to fish a condom from his wallet to roll over his hard length. “Please, Johnny,” you hiccupped, winding your legs around his waist to pull him closer to you. “Sssh, princess,” he soothed you, running his hands over your torso before bending down to press tender kisses to your stomach, “I’ll take care of you.” “Please kiss me.”

Dropping his elbows next to your head to support his weight, he covered your body with his and caught your lips in a kiss much too tender for your current situation, taking his time to explore your mouth until you were perfectly pliant beneath him. “Tell me if it hurts,” he whispered into the small space between you while he snaked a hand between your bodies to guide his cock to your core. When the head slipped in without much resistance, both of you let out twin moans of pleasure. Painstakingly slowly Johnny pushed inside you, centimeter by centimeter until his hips were flush to yours. “Breathe, princess,” he reminded you because you indeed had held your breath and had buried your nails in his biceps. “Shit, you’re big,” you cursed. “So I’ve been told,” Johnny chuckled and peppered your face and neck with little kisses while he slowly ground his hips so you could get used to him inside you.

“Move,” you demanded after a while. “What’s the magic word baby?” He grinned. “Please, Johnny,” you whimpered, clenching down on him. “Once more.” “Don’t make me beg.” “But you sound so pretty when you do,” he chuckled, only barely moving his hips. “Johnny please,” you whined, trying your best to move on his cock on your own but the angle was just not working out. “Oh, you want to do the work?” “I want you to move,” you groaned, pawing at his chest.

“But I think you’d look so pretty riding my cock,” Johnny rasped and in one fluid movement, he had sat up and pulled you onto his lap. Shit, it felt like he was even deeper now. “Come on, princess.” Whining, you wound your arms around his shoulders and pulled your legs beneath you so you could lift your hips up to make his cock smoothly slide out, the friction just right before you slowly dropped back down again, earning you an appreciative groan from Johnny. “That’s right, baby,” he praised you as you slowly found a comfortable pace, swiveling your hips until the angle was just right. Tightening the grip you had on his shoulders to use it as leverage, you began riding him in earnest, impaling yourself on his cock over and over again until your head was spinning and your thighs started to burn. “Come on, doll,” Johnny grinned, catching one of your nipples between his lips. Whining, you rolled your hips faster until your thighs began shaking. “Need help?” He just grinned, his big hands holding onto your hips to help you move up and down his cock at a steadier pace. “Please Johnny,” you hiccupped, hiding your face in his neck to ground yourself, “Please fuck me.” “Am I not doing just that?” He chuckled, filthily grinding his cock inside you. “Do it right,” you panted into his skin, “Fuck me like you mean it.”

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, baby.” He didn’t have to tell you twice, it was almost comical how quickly you obeyed his command and arched your back for him. “Hmm, that’s it,” he praised you, tracing the curve of your spine with his hands until he reached the space between your shoulder blades where he gently pushed down to make you arch even further. “So good and pliant for me, just waiting to be filled.” “Please,” you just whined again, past the point of caring about how pathetic you sounded, begging for his cock. “Say it baby,” he demanded, slapping his cock against your wet folds. “Please fuck me Johnny. Please. I want your cock inside me so badly. Want you to fuck me until I can’t even remember my own name anymore. Please I need it. I-“ your frantic rambling got cut off by the surprised moan leaving your lips as he thrust into you without any warning. “Don’t hold back baby,” Johnny rasped before gripping your hips tightly to finally fuck you in earnest, the sound of skin slapping together loud in the otherwise silent room. “God, your ass looks amazing,” he moaned, burying himself in your tight heat over and over again, mesmerized by how his cock was glistening in the low light and how easily your body opened up for him, “You’re basically made to take my cock.” You could only mewl at his dirty words and fist the sheets tightly in your hands as you tried to meet his thrusts as best as you could while you felt like you got your soul fucked right out of you.

“Feels so good,” you slurred when you felt the familiar knot in your stomach ready to snap, clenching around Johnny’s cock. “God baby, if you keep clenching like that I’m gonna cum,” Johnny cursed, grabbing you by the neck to pull you up against his chest, the pace of his hips only getting faster. “Please Johnny. Want it inside,” you whined, letting him use your body how he wanted to relish in the low moans he let out. “You want me to fill you up baby?” “Want it so bad, Johnny,” you mewled. “Then cum for me. Cum on my cock and I’ll give you anything you want.” And oh god. You had never thought that the strained sound of a couple of words could be enough to actually trip you over the edge but the rasp in Johnny’s voice had you falling apart in his arms, your orgasm ripping through you so hard it had your thighs shaking. “Such a good girl,” Johnny praised you before he let out a low guttural moan and fucked into you once – then twice – before his hips came to a halt, emptying his cum inside the condom.

For a while you two just panted loudly before Johnny gently laid you back down onto the mattress, chuckling lowly when you whined at the loss of his cock. “Shit,” you giggled while he quickly got rid of the condom, throwing it in the general direction of your trashcan. So tender you could have missed it, Johnny pressed a row of kisses down your spine until he reached the swell of your ass. “Cuddle me,” you pouted, making grabby hands at him. “We’re sweaty, princess,” he laughed but gave in when you kept pouting. “I don’t care,” you whined, fitting your head beneath his, wrapping your arms and legs around his body to cling to him like a koala. “You’re cute,” he smiled, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“For how long did you know?” “Know what?” Johnny asked, clearly confused. “That I was your secret admirer.” “I didn’t.” “It was so obvious,” you groaned. “Okay maybe I got a hunch after we started that group project. But you never said anything.” “What was I supposed to say? Oh Johnny, by the way, I’m the one who has been writing you cringey love letters for like half a year already. Please go out with me?” That made Johnny laugh, the sound melodic in the quiet of your room. “I would have said yes, you know?” He spoke lowly, “I’ll miss your letters.” “What makes you think I will stop writing them?” “Because you can tell me all that stuff in person now when we go on dates.” “We’ll go on dates?” “That’s what people do when they like each other, princess,” Johnny chuckled, “And I really like you. Both as my secret admirer and my classmate.” “Oh my god stop,” you whined, hiding your hot face in his chest, feeling shy all of a sudden while Johnny was just laughing.

“I like you too,” you eventually mumbled once it had gotten quiet again. “I figured,” he teased you. “I changed my mind,” you immediately shot back, rising from where you were cuddled into his chest but every other protest died on your tongue when you saw his dreamy expression, his honey eyes finding yours and completely ignoring the fact that you were still very much naked. “Date me,” he said. “Okay,” you answered, easily meeting his lips in a sweet kiss that wouldn’t be the last one you two shared tonight.

“Hello and welcome back, that was Middle Of The Night by Monsta X, suggested to us by raibebe through our Twitter with the hashtag JonJaeLoveTalk. We’re your DJ’s John-D.” “And Jae-D on NCT Night Night. Hello again to all of our listeners. John-D.” “Yes Jae-D,” Johnny chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Something is off today. I looked through our mail and there was no letter from your secret admirer.” “Oh really,” he feigned surprise. “Either they didn’t send anything in or our director got sick of the pining.” “I can calm you right back down Jae-D,” Johnny smiled, “Because she simply doesn’t need to send any more letters. I finally found her.” “No way. For real? And you didn’t tell me? I have to find out through our radio show? Friendship is dead,” Jaehyun sighed dramatically and you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Jae-D you know you’ll always be the number one in my heart, you know that.” At that Jaehyun let out fake gagging noises that made both friends chuckle.

“No but for real. I finally found her and asked her out. It’s going great so yeah,” Johnny shrugged, “In case you’re listening baby: I’m dropping by later and bring sushi.” “This is so domestic already,” Jaehyun sighed dramatically, “Where is my secret admirer?” “Maybe you could find love as well if you stopped acting like the textbook example of a frat boy.” “What is that even supposed to mean?”

Smiling, you leaned back on your sofa and listened to your boyfriend bickering with his best friend. Boyfriend. That sounded good even though it still felt unreal. Love Letters weren’t dead after all it seemed.

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

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birthday boy- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, mentions of some other characters, alpine and my fav fanfiction dog: thorgi warnings: none about: a @youneedsomeprompts prompt: Person A is a grouch about birthdays so Person B decides to throw them a birthday party with just their pet(s) present. a/n: okay okay so i totally imagine bucky liking this better than a huge birthday party, and also thorgi is a corgi that is named thorgi and i always include in fanfics because i dream of him okay so i am aware it is nowhere near bucky's birthday but i wrote this so here you go lol i really liked this at first but i think i've read it too much because i'm kind of really not liking it anymore

you’re buzzing nervously, hands hovering over the food you’d made and the gifts you’d positioned on the table. a small smile pulls at your lips when you scan the array for the nth time and decide it’s perfectly adequate for your boyfriend. your oven dings, and you turn around to look at it, the smell of the warm dessert rushing up to your nose. grinning, you turn and head to the kitchen, the subsequent pattering of your pets’ paws following your excited footsteps. “oh, oh this smells good, doesn’t it, thorg?” you ask while putting on oven mitts, glancing at your dog, who sniffs the air happily as he sits next to you.

you open the oven, eyeing the pie you baked and biting your lip. you pull it out, careful to not burn your hands, and place it on top of your stove. alpine leans over from her place on the counter, staring at the pie for a few seconds before looking back at you. “looks good, huh, alpine?” she meows in response, sitting down as her tail swishes around. you look at it for a few more moments, grinning at how perfect it looked.

“d’you think daddy will like it?” you query anxiously, eyes flitting between your two fur babies. thorgi wags his tail at you, giving you a quiet dog noise in response, and alpine meows again. you take it as a yes. “that’s good… i had to learn how to bake,” you say with a light laugh, poking a toothpick into the pie to make sure it was fully baked. humming when it comes out clean, you cover it with a towel and put it back into the turned-off oven.

“okay, okay,” you mumble, going over everything you’d done in your head. “cake? no, sam’s surprising him with it tomorrow, favorite dinner? done. plum pie? done. uh- something’s missing, i’m forgetting something.” you look around yourself, eyeing alpine and thorgi. you squint at them.

thorgi grunts at you, sitting down.

“clothes,” you suddenly realize, looking down at your food-stained clothing. “thank you, thorg,” you say, reaching down to scratch behind his ears and rushing to your room. you’re barely in the living room again before the front door’s doorknob is jiggling and the door is opening, your soldier’s foot inside the apartment while your jeans are covered in flour. thorgi is walking to the door, in no particular hurry, and alpine has already pranced to the couch next to you, looking at you and then bucky as if to say, ‘he’s here.’

“bucky!” you exclaim, the clothes you set apart for today forgotten when your boyfriend smiles at you. he shuts the doors behind him, greeting you with a kiss when you get closer to him.

“hey doll,” he murmurs, ignoring the bags in his arms to hug you. “how’s your day been?” he questions, pecking your lips again and making you giggle.

“good. how about yours, birthday boy?”

bucky shrugs, “like you’d expect. sam’s called me old about five times already, ‘says he won’t blame you if you put me in a home.” you chuckle, trying to help him with the bags but huffing when he refuses. he walks toward the kitchen, pausing when he sees what you’ve done. “i see you’ve been busy,” he comments teasingly, pushing some things aside to set down the groceries you’d asked him to get.

“ah, you haven’t even seen the worst of it. i’ve had to clean the kitchen like three times already,” you inform, grabbing his hand when it’s free. he hums when you press your lips to his, his other hand reaching up to tug your jaw closer. “ah, ah, i still have to show you something,” you say, pulling away and watching him groan.

“i really hope it’s what i’m thinking-”

you push his shoulder gently, “bucky!”

“it’s my birthday!” he points out, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you in again.

“i know,” you whisper, “which is why-” you draw back, tugging on his hand, “i have something for you.”

thorgi barks suddenly, and you both turn to see your pets sitting next to each other, clearly bothered. you laugh when you realize what they want, pushing your shoulder into bucky’s chest, “they’re upset you didn’t say hi to them,” you explain, letting go of bucky’s hand.

“i’m sorry,” he starts, crouching down to be closer to them, “how rude of me,” he whispers, petting alpine’s head and rubbing thorgi’s belly when he turns. alpine sits elegantly when she decides she’s forgiven bucky, hopping onto the counter next to you to rub at your arm.

“hi honey,” you coo at her, rolling your eyes playfully when bucky responds immediately, “hey sweetheart.”

“i think he’s happy,” bucky notes after a few seconds of thorgi’s happy wiggling, standing to his towering height and tilting his head at you, “what smells so good?” your eyes brighten impossibly at him.

“oh, my surprise, look,” you instruct, grabbing his hand again to lead him to the dining room. “ta da!” you cheer, extending your arms to showcase your work, “your birthday party! i made your favorite food and a bunch of cookies and plum pie- it was going to be way bigger, but you’ve never really liked that, and i convinced tony to make it smaller and not actually on your birthday so you could rest and celebrate it with alpine and thorgi and me- like you said you wanted last year,” you ramble, scanning bucky’s face for his thoughts.

“d’you like it?” you question, nerves dissipating into nothing when bucky’s face breaks out in a grin and he embraces you again, lifting you off your feet by accident.

“it’s perfect, doll. thank you.”

“of course,” you promise, pressing your lips all over his face. “you deserve the best.”

when he puts you down, you cringe at the flour you leave on his attire, trying to swat it away, “i’m sorry, i meant to go change into something nicer-”

bucky shakes his head, “no, no, you look great. and it’s my birthday so i say don’t change. never change.”

you shake your head at him, chuckling, “you’re so cheesy,” you inform, kissing his nose. “c’mon, birthday boy, let’s celebrate you.”

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chrisbitchtree · 2 years

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April Prompt Challenge Day 8 - Window

Full list of prompts here

***

Billy was in way over his head. Spending his earnings from his part time job at the garage on a brand-new PC for school had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he had the thing, and barely had any idea how to use it. They’d had a computer back home, but it was a Macintosh, and Neil being Neil, Billy had barely been able to touch it anyway.

Thankfully that afternoon, as he’d been walking out of the public library, where he liked to study because it was quieter than the campus library and his own dorm room, where his roommate had a constant stream of friends over, he’d noticed a flyer for a tutorial on how to use Windows, almost buried beneath advertisements for an ultimate frisbee league and a poster advertising that the library now offered VHS rentals. Billy quickly grabbed a pen and paper from his bag and wrote down the time, the next evening at 7pm.

***

The next evening, he headed back to the library, a little late because of course he hadn’t gotten out of his last class on time. He was expecting to see a bunch of people his age. What he didn’t expect was a bunch of seniors, and at the front of the room, the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen, brown hair flopping in his eyes, and a Hootie and the Blowfish t-shirt tucked haphazardly into khakis, topped with an open blue short sleeve button down. His big brown doe eyes were made even larger by the thick rimmed glasses he was wearing. Billy didn’t usually go for nerds who listened to soft rock, but he found he couldn’t keep his eyes off the guy.

Everyone was paired up, and Billy realized as he went to take a seat that there wasn’t one. Everyone had a partner but him. “Hey, looks like we have a late arrival. Hi late arrival, I’m Steve. I’ll be your teacher today. Your name is?” The beautiful boy gave him a blinding smile. Billy’s heart was beating so fast, it was all he could focus on. He could barely spit out his own name. “I’m, uhhhh, Billy, my name is Billy.” Steve’s smile grew impossibly wider. “Well, Billy. It looks like you’re the odd man out. How about you come sit up here with me?”

Oh great, now this guy was going to see up close and personal that Billy couldn’t even use a computer. He could feel his face heating up as he made his way over to the chair Steve had grabbed for him. He sat down, trying to act natural as Steve walked everyone through turning on the computers. Billy could barely even form a coherent thought next to Steve, how was he going to remember this all?

To make matters worse, most of the old people were catching on faster than he was. They’d all shown Steve that they could navigate their way through the basic functions, and Billy could barely remember how Steve had said to shut the thing off. He could feel himself getting overheated, and he was shaking from a combination of nerves and frustration. He started feeling dizzy and knew he had to get out of there. It was too much. He grabbed his bag and started walking out of the room, only to be stopped by Steve’s hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, softly. “Leaving already? We’re just getting to the good stuff! Don’t you want to learn how to use Paint?” Billy could feel his cheeks heating up, from a combination of Steve’s hand, which was still on his shoulder, and embarrassment at what he was about to admit to this hot stranger. “I can barely remember how you said to do the basics. How am I going to learn how to do anything else?” He blew a stray curl out of his eyes, sighing.

Steve gave him a sympathetic smile. “Everyone learns at their own pace, Billy. You don’t need to feel embarrassed. But here, I only do this for my favorite students.” He grabbed a pen from his pocket and wrote a phone number on the back of Billy’s hand. “Call me. We can do a one-on-one lesson at my apartment.” He then had the audacity to wink, as if Billy wasn’t already weak in the knees.

***

Summoning up all the courage that he had, Billy called Steve the next night. They made plans for Billy to go over to Steve’s in an hour. Now he was ringing Steve’s buzzer, and he could feel his palms sweating. He wiped them on his jeans before heading in when Steve buzzed him up. Steve greeted him and showed him around the small space before they settled in at Steve’s computer.

To his credit, Steve did spend time actually showing Billy how to navigate Windows. They spent a full 30 minutes going through the basics before Steve turned to Billy, tucking a curl behind his ear before pressing his lips to Billy’s in a tentative kiss. Billy cupped his hand behind Steve’s head, deepening the kiss. They made their way to the couch, Billy bumping into the coffee table as they made their way over. He barely registered the pain, focused as he was on Steve and how nice the other boy’s soft lips felt against his.

The spent three times as long exploring each other’s mouths as they did exploring Windows, Steve’s radio playing horrible alt rock in the background. So what if Billy still didn’t know how to use Windows? There was plenty of time to learn, and Steve seemed to be an eager teacher. And if he got a boner every time he heard Glycerine by Bush for the next few months? That was his business and his business alone.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #chrisbitchtree writes #my fic #stranger things #90s au #harringrove april #april prompts

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outofsstyles · 3 years

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a/n: This is by far THE MOST requested fic I’ve ever had and (a year later) it’s finally here!! First of all, sorry that it took me so long but when I first wrote Wildest Dreams I never intended on it having a follow up, but the amount of love I got from it was so overwhelming that I decided to put this together for you all :) I’m not gonna lie, I’m a bit nervous about it, considering the amount of requests I’ve had the past year, I know there’s gonna be a lot of expectations and I wanted to do something a bit different so it’s not too predictable lol. So yeah, as always, feedback is very much welcomed!! If you enjoy please reblog it to support my writing, it would mean the world to me <3

word count: 13.7k

warnings: none!

concept: It’s Evan’s birthday and he decides to do something a bit different.

Wildest Dreams: read part 1 here :)

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

In the last two steps, you have to use your leg to support the box as it starts to slowly slip down your fingers. This serves as a reminder to start exercising again now that the midterm is over — meaning that you should finally give in to Nia’s pleas to join her in the free week of Pilates classes she got when signing in at the gym, “Exercising is one of the best ways to relieve stress!” She would argue, to which you’d simply reply with something along the lines of: “So does binging another trashy reality tv show!”

Thankfully, no one seems to notice your struggle, sparing you the embarrassment of listening to their teases due to your difficulty in carrying one of the smallest boxes of the bunch. Nate barely glances at you once you finally reach the car to hand him the box, only shooting the longest smile you’ve ever seen coming from him—which somehow still manages to be probably the quickest when compared to any other regular person. His girlfriend, who stands with hands on her hips, entirely held his attention. Nia’s purple strands of hair poke out of her half-bun in every direction and her bottom lip has found its permanent spot between her teeth as her eyes fixate on the vehicle in front of her, barely blinking.

“Everything alright, Ni?” You prompt, trying to even your breathing. “Forgot something? There’s still time to check.”

“It’s not that.” She mumbles, shaking her head to break out of her thoughts. “My keyboard doesn’t fit.” Nia nods at the instrument lying on top of the car’s ceiling.

“Oh,” You say, frowning your lips as you take in her stressed figure. Clearing your throat, you attempt to blurt out a joke, “Maybe it’s a sign you shouldn’t move it and stay right here in our little flat with creaky doors.”

She breathes out a sharp laugh, finally looking at you as she drops her arms. “Don’t start.” She warns, “You promised; no crying today.”

“Don’t worry, I’m good at holding back the tears.” You give her a soft smile, pulling her smaller frame into a hug. The sudden reality of your best friend and roommate leaving you hitting you at once. “Gonna miss you, Ni.”

You feel her sigh into your shoulder, arms circling around your middle. “I’ll be ten minutes away.”

“Not the same.”

“I know.”

The two of you sway in silence for a moment, and you watch from over her shoulder as Nate attempts to awkwardly pick up the keyboard, almost dropping it on the sidewalk in the process. He grunts, the instrument tilting in his arms, and you giggle as you hear Nia sigh once more. Tightening your arms around her, you release each other as she turns to check on her boyfriend who holds the instrument as you would a newborn — except this one is half his size and hard as a wood plank.

He glances between the both of you, helpless. “Uh, where does this go?”

“You can put it with the other big boxes upstairs, babe. We’ll take them Sunday.” Nia says, moving to close the trunk. She looks back at him, calling back in a sing-like voice before he disappears inside, “Thank you!”

You lean back against the car, a playful pout plumping your bottom lip. “Am I only seeing you again on Sunday, then?”

“Nope, I’ll pick you up for Evan’s birthday — did you forget about it already?”

You have. “Of course not. It’s on — tomorrow.”

“Is it tomorrow?” Nia gasps, eyes widening. “Holy shit, tomorrow’s Friday.”

You nod slowly, just as shocked as she is about how quickly the past couple of weeks have flown by. Between piles of book reports and stress-tear-stained essays during midterms week, you also had to find some time to help Nia with packing boxes while searching for a new roommate for yourself. If you managed a five-hour sleep on these past days, that would have been a well-rested night. So you can’t really blame yourself for forgetting about Evan’s birthday when Nia herself had it slipping through her mind.

“This is an emergency,” Nia says, eyes focusing on a point beyond you and, you feel like, if you listen close enough, you can hear the engines inside her head working. “I’ll have come here earlier so you can help me with my outfit.”

You chuckle. “What even is the theme this year?”

“He didn’t tell me,” Nia says in a huff. “But, on the bright side, I don’t think this year he’ll do anything too crazy — he was too busy these last couple months with that short film I told you about, remember?”

“Evan doing something low key? That’s a first.” You raise your eyebrows, skeptical.

“I mean, I don’t know. I’m just guessing.” Nia shrugs, picking at her nails. “I’m only saying because he mentioned once he was only inviting, like, twenty people.”

Now, this is a surprise. “I’m glad I made the cut, then.”

It’s not a secret to anyone who’s ever had any kind of interaction with Evan that he’s fond of the dramatics of life — his bright-colored outfits with mismatching patterns being the first example that comes to mind — and that reflects as well in his events. Especially when it comes to his birthday.

To be fair, you’ve only actually been to two birthday parties of his so far — considering the invitation usually finds you because he’s close to Nia and sees you as some sort of extension of her. Nevertheless, they were both impactful enough that left a clear impression of how much he enjoys celebrating himself. Last year in particular you remember quite well. It was what he called “Evaney” themed; being a mix of himself and his favorite artist: Britney Spears. And, while you and Nia showed up as one of at least fifteen different variations of the Baby One More Time schoolgirl outfit, Evan pulled a perfect match of the Oops! I Did It Again red bodysuit that he got one of his fashion student friends to tailor for him, as well as freshly dyed beach blonde hair to suit it. He even went as far as photoshopping pictures of himself on Britney’s body and had them printed on posters hung on every single room of the house. There were even custom-made cups and napkins with them — two of them that Nia stole at the end of the party still sit somewhere in your kitchen to this day.

Another particular thing you remember quite clearly was that there were enough people crowded in his living room to fill up your entire apartment, as you recall. And that’s about how a typical event at his home is like — even on his friendsmas dinner there were much more than just twenty people eating turkey out of disposable hot pink plates. So, Nia’s information leaves you wondering what he could have in mind for tomorrow with such a limited list of people.

Before you can voice your wonders to her, though, Nate pushes through the entrance door again. You can tell he, much like you minutes ago, is trying to cover his heavy breathing. “I left it on top of those big boxes with a bunch of books in ‘em.”

“Brilliant! Thank you, baby.” Nia grins, wrapping an arm around his middle. “By the way, we just remembered Evan’s birthday’s tomorrow.”

“Is it tomorrow already?” Nate asks, and you hold back a giggle at the way his face scrunches in discontent. He hates going to Evan’s to a point that’s nearly comical. “Fuck’s sake.”

“And I think I’ll come here early so we can get ready together.” Nia nods towards you.

Nate grunts. “Do I have to go this time?”

“Of course, darling.” She rises to her tiptoes to pinch his cheek, to which he brushes it off.

Nate looks at you, and you only send him a tight smile in solidarity. The two of you share similar experiences with Evan, considering the only reason either of you even gets invited is that because you’re close to Nia, and she’s close to Evan. Although you like Evan, even if you’re not that close with him, you can still put on your social mask for a couple of hours and have fun at his parties. Nate, on the other hand, is likely the least sociable person you’ve ever met, and it’s obvious how uncomfortable he gets every time.

Nia seems to sense how tense he gets as well, because she steps in front of her boyfriend, finding his eyes with her doe-like ones. “I mean, if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to.”

He sighs, “Of course I’ll go with you.” He looks up at you. “Maybe this time we can actually count how many faces of his we can see from the couch.”

This time you don’t hold back a giggle. “I have a feeling we’ll have an easier time this year.”

“Hope so.” Nate taps on Nia’s back. "Let's go, then? Is everything you need in the trunk?”

“Yup.” She answers, circling the car and opening the door to the passenger’s side. Before entering, she gives you one last look. “Do you want me to bring anything for you tomorrow?”

“I’m good.”

“‘kay!” She enters, closing the door behind her in a click and leaning over Nate to wave at you from his window. “See you tomorrow! Don’t cry too hard tonight!”

“I won’t!” You wave back.

Watching as the car pulls back, before driving away and disappearing around the corner, there’s a light breeze that raises goosebumps on the exposed skin of your arms. You cross them under your chest, leaning back into the wall of your building, not quite ready to go back to your empty home yet. The seconds blend into minutes and you stand there The promise you made to Nia not even a minute ago already pooling in your eye, knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep it anyway, you let it tickle its way down your cheek.

A rougher gust of wind hits you and, this time, you turn to go inside.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The days are still not long enough so that the sun can shine proudly at seven in the afternoon, but as spring just about rounds the corner there’s still a golden glow as the rays provide one last warmth before disappearing on the horizon. And that’s how the sky greets you once you step out of your building to make your way towards Evan’s house for his birthday.

As planned, Nia arrived at yours with plenty of time so the two of you could help each other get ready, a bag filled with clothes she’s just taken to Nate’s yesterday under her arm for you to help her choose. “I’m thinking something monochromatic tonight.” She said as she walked in, making you jump in your spot on the couch as you didn’t hear her using the spare key. “I’m just not sure what color.”

She ended up choosing red. There was an old box of red hair dye you found lost inside the bathroom cabinet after Nia left — along with two different brands of shaving cream, although those belonging to Nate — and, after presenting it to her, she decided to go all for it, taking it as a sign. Nate showed up just about an hour after his girlfriend, still in his work attire and barely batting an eye at Nia’s new hair color as she blew dried it. The only comment leaving his mouth being, “You look like a tomato,” before kissing her forehead and excusing himself for a nap while the two of you finished getting ready.

What neither of you realized was that Nia’s last-minute decision took more time than you predicted, giving you barely enough time to get dressed. To her, that wasn’t exactly an inconvenience considering she had an outfit ready to match any color she wanted — in this case, was a red-dyed denim two-piece. and a matching jacket that ended up discarded after she noticed it covered her newest shoulder tattoo (though you tried to argue she could just have Nate carry it so she could wear it considering she eventually would get cold at some point). To you, however, was more of a stressful task, seeing you hadn’t taken in mind to think of an outfit beforehand. So you ended up just going with the safest option that didn’t give you a lot of room to overthink, choosing to finish your makeup on the way so Evan wouldn’t have any of your heads on a plate for being late.

You’ve found that applying mascara on a moving vehicle is not the easiest task, as Nia holds your elbow to help you keep steady while talking nonstop with the driver about a topic you stopped paying any mind to about ten minutes ago.

“I’m loving our black and red moment, by the way.” She turns to you, loosening her hold as you finish the last coat. “You look like one of those hot businesswomen with your teenage daughter who likes to dress like an animated character.”

You laugh at her comparison, only now noticing the discrepancy between both your outfits. Without even realizing it, you also ended up going for the monochromatic look. Except unlike Nia’s, yours completely lacks any color. “That’s actually the best comparison you could make.”

“I know — You can take a left right here — Here, I have lip gloss.” Nia fetches a small tube from her jacket (that she ended up taking, after all), presenting it to you.

“Do you not have lipstick?”

“Are you not planning on smudging it later?” Nia wiggles her eyebrows, teasing. The hint behind her words makes you roll your eyes, snatching the lip gloss from her hand without bothering to give her an answer. There was about a month or so, just before winter rolled around, that Nia felt as if she had a mission to get you with someone. You suspect, knowing too well how her mind works, that she must’ve felt some sort of guilt for what happened during her film project last year. It was clear that her attempts came from a place of good heart, but this doesn’t mean that it made them any less annoying. However, after her plans to move in with Nate became more concrete, her cupid persona seemed to have disappeared, or so you’d thought. But now that there’s nothing else filling her mind anymore, it looks like she’s back at it, and you can’t help but snort. “What? I’m just saying-”

“You say a lot of things, most of them are incorrect.” You say, “I’m not smudging anything tonight. Not on a party with twenty people, for fuck’s sake.”

“Don’t say that before — right there! The big house on the corner!” Nia leans over the console, signaling to the driver where to park. It’s so sudden that you notice how he jumps just slightly from his seat, chuckling to yourself at how Nate snaps his eyes at her.

The front of Evan’s Victorian home is unusually quiet once you step out onto the sidewalk. So much so that, if it weren’t for the lined cars parked along the street and filling his driveway, you would’ve thought you’d typed in the wrong address.

The discrepancy is clear to you when compared to other gatherings Evan hosts in his house, but especially for his birthday. Last year, you could hear Toxic blasting from his place from the moment you turned on his street, and a small crowd gathered on his front yard — most of which you recall being comprised of people plastered out of their minds, particularly one semi-naked man who was using one lamppost as a strip pole while swinging a stuffed snake

That’s more or less the standard one could expect when invited to a party at Evan’s. So, to find the street as silent as any regular day is, to an understanding, odd.

“Are you sure it’s the right date?” You ask as the metal creak of the front gate mends with gushes of wind whistling through the air.

“Yup,” Nia says simply, walking in front of you. “You can hear the music inside, shush.”

You come quiet, listening in, and, surely, you can hear the faint keys of a piano coming from the other side of the stone walls, but it only brings up more questions to your head than answers. Evan seems like the last person on Earth who would listen to classical music. Deciding not to voice your question this time, you follow short behind Nia, kicking some loose stones on the gravel path leading to the front door.

There’s no need for more than a single knock for it to open almost immediately, revealing a lace-clad Evan downing the last bits of his wine. Without the barrier you can hear the music more clearly, the keys of the piano meshing in a peculiar way, not like anything you’ve ever heard in a classical song— at least not ten years ago when you tried to learn piano for a year before giving up.

“Look at my favorite people!” Evan says with his purple-stained lips, pulling Nia for a hug with the arm that’s not holding the door open while pointing at a spot behind her. “Did you greet Jonathan when you passed him? It’s his birthday as well.”

He points to a spot where a gnome statue sits in the dry grass, face painted in clown makeup. Nate’s voice comes from behind you, “Christ.”

“Nate!” Evan chirps, going straight for the man standing with a sharp smile and throwing his arms around him. “You know you’re my favorite grumpy, right?”

Nate only taps on the shorter man’s back, quickly moving to Nia’s side as soon as he’s free from the embrace. With that, Evan turns to you, hands finding your elbows as he takes you in, “And what have you been up to, bug? It's been ages.”

“You know… Books and… Stuff.” You chuckle, brushing it off. “Happy birthday, E.”

“Thank you!” He claps his hands together. “Now, c’mon, let’s get all of you started.”

Following him inside, you’re met with a glittery box standing right next to the entrance; rolls of tape seal it shut, and a hand-sized hole has been cut on top of the lid. You try to peek at what could be inside, but strings of colorful crepe paper are stuck to the hole, making it harder to know its contents.

Evan picks up the box, holding it to his side. “So, I need each of you to grab a piece of paper inside the box. There will be a number in it but for now just hold on, drink, and chat while waiting for further instructions.” His voice lowers at the end to give his words more of a mystery behind them.

Nate tenses in front of you and you have to keep yourself from chuckling at his desperate gaze moving from the box to his girlfriend as he moves uncomfortably on his feet. Nia, however, only gives him a pat on his back, barely looking at her boyfriend as she does a little dance in excitement. “Oh, this feels fun.” She says, quickly reaching her hand inside the box and retrieving a piece of paper. “Mysterious, but fun. What do you have in mind, sir?”

“Nothing too crazy this year, darling, you can relax — We’re all too tired.” He moves the box towards Nate, who reluctantly reaches inside. “Just something to mesh people together that won’t give me too much of a headache to clean tomorrow.”

“Smart.” You say, peeking at the box as it’s presented to you before reaching for a paper inside, quickly reading the number eight written on it before folding the piece between your fingers.

“Nice! As always, drinks in the kitchen. We’re starting in ten minutes!” Evan claps, hushing the three of you further inside.

Surprisingly, this time around there are no posters of his face in sight as you follow Nia and Nate to the kitchen. There’s a mild mash of voices coming from the living room — where the sound of the piano is the loudest, and you wonder if he got an actual piano or if it’s just a Bluetooth speaker —, but it’s not nearly as loud as you’re used to from past times. The lighting has been lowered to a buttery yellow; you realize once you enter the kitchen that feels too bright to your eyes in contrast to the hallway.

“Is there any alcohol?” You wonder out loud, and Nia glances at you with her eyebrows shot towards her hairline. “What? I’m just asking ‘cause everyone is unusually quiet.”

“There’s wine and — what are these guys right here?” She picks up one out of four plastic jars sitting on the kitchen island, reading the label stuck to it out loud, “Strawberry Mary — ooh, this looks fun.”

You reach for the other three to check their contents, but all have names similar to the one Nia now fills her cup with — fruity, yet mysterious: Lana Banana, Jenny Berry Mix, and Pineapple Suzan. “Did he come up with these?” You chuckle, reaching for the berry mix.

“It was probably Adam,” Nia says, and you frown. “That bartender guy? The one with the pet snakes.”

“Oh, yeah. I know him.”

The room comes quiet as you serve yourself, and only after you glance up you realize a tension lingering in the air. Nate stands awkwardly in a corner, eyes fixed on Nia as he moves his head around subtly. Glancing between the two of them, you notice how their expressions change as they keep their eyes locked, not a single word being uttered out loud. To you, it almost feels as if they are reading each other’s minds, and the heat of their silent argument becoming clear once Nate huffs, shaking his head.

Nia clears her throat, seemingly uncomfortable, shooting you a knowing look. It’s only when she gives you a toothless smile that you realize the silent question behind it. “Uhm, I’m going to check if there are any sweets outside.”

Beelining towards the doorway, you quickly make your way out of the room. The hallway is empty and, from where you stand awkwardly in the middle of it, you can tell Evan’s left his spot by the front door, meaning he’s likely gone to the living room where the rest of the guests are. You can hear them chatting, although like you previously pointed, the voices are much more controlled than what you’re used to, and that makes you oddly flustered by the thought of walking in alone.

Considering the limited amount of invitations this year, the chances of you knowing anyone are slim and, to add to your sudden nervousness, most of the people from Evan’s closest circle of friends are — like himself — inexplicably intimidating. This is mostly because it feels like this unspoken competition that everyone has settled with each other, to subtly brag about your success whilst simultaneously pretending to be impressed about the other’s accomplishments. And for you specifically, considering you’re not part of this artist clique that they lock themselves into, it feels particularly tiresome to be part of those interactions.

So, you opt to wait for Nia, pretending to admire one peculiar painting hanging on a wall opposite to where the doorway leading to the living room stands. Every so often, you catch yourself glancing over your shoulder one way or the other, either towards the kitchen to check if your friends are joining you, or to the doorway where the rest of the guests are in. At one point, the voices get louder, joining in a laugh before tangling together in a mess of noise you can’t make sense of. It’s after a minute that you hear footsteps coming from the living room, making you freeze on your spot, carefully turning your back to whoever’s about to catch you avoiding the party, and focusing on the piece you’ve been staring at for the past five minutes.

The painting you first thought was just random strokes of earth tones abstractly put together you now realize it’s a man and it doesn’t take you more than a second or two to recognize Evan’s side profile in a peach shade. Your hand claps on top of your mouth as you fight the urge to laugh. The sound comes out muffled, but it stops as you hear the footsteps falter as they turn into the hallway. Keeping you back to them, you listen as the wooden floor creaks as whoever was approaching makes their way back. You peek to catch sight of who it might be, but all you make out is the shadow of mustard corduroys turning the corner.

As if on cue, Nia and Nate finally appear from the kitchen, thankfully neither appearing to be sour after the talk in the kitchen.

“Finally.” You say, still feeling giggly from your finding. “Nate, you have to check this-”

“Okay! Let’s start, then. Do we have everyone in the living room?” Evan’s voice interrupts you as he calls out. Nia guides you along with her to the living room. And, as soon as the three of you enter, Evan nods at you, before continuing, “Now that all the bunnies are trapped, we shall begin!” He laughs, clapping his hands together before motioning vaguely to everyone. “Before I explain what I have planned, I want to pair you all. So, I’ll call out the numbers that each of you picked when you arrived, so everyone can find their pair.”

You frown, confuse yet curious about what Evan’s up to as he calls out the numbers. Now that you stop to glance around the room, you note how there are more people than you’d expected. It’s still not nearly as many as previous parties of his, but it still feels like the room is nicely filled, maybe just a dozen people above twenty. And amongst them, there’s quite a few you recognize as they pair up together — like Georgia, the first one to be called, whom you spent a good half of the New Year’s party with, or Taylor, who gets paired with Nia (you remember him particularly from a film festival that Nia had been part of — he produced and directed a short film comparing the second wave of feminism to the wildlife in the Amazon Rainforest, and Nia couldn’t stop complaining about how bad it was for the entire week after).

It’s when Evan jokes with someone on the other side of the room, however, that you see him.

He’s tucked in a corner, right next to the bookshelves, arms crossed under his chest in a way that makes his tattoos pop out of his biceps, something you notice even standing on the opposite end of the room. His smile is subtle as he watches the scene in front of him, but it’s still enough for a dimple to poke at one side of his face -- it’s barely there, but you’ve seen it up close enough times that you notice those details. His hand holds a drink, but you pay no mind to it because what calls your attention is the mustard corduroy hugging his hips, the same one you watched run from you not only five minutes ago.

He laughs, and you avert your eyes, mouth still hung open. You wonder if anyone will notice if you leave.

But, as though he could read your mind, Evan calls the number written on that sits crumbled inside the pocket of your jacket. “Where are my number eights?”

You step forward and, like a magnet, your eyes glue on Harry as he raises his hand.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you have to fight against an urge to shut your eyes tightly as the regret of having left your room at all tonight becomes almost overwhelming. All you expected for the night was to forget about book reports and endless essays piled up on your computer, to relax, maybe drink a bit more than you should while watching Evan’s friends dancing with a taxidermy beaver or something of sorts (that was on his friendsmas party two years ago). Instead, here you are on what feels like the first day of class dynamic your teacher has imposed to make everyone interact with each other. And, suddenly, the long pages of (insert boring book) don’t seem that bad right now.

And to make matters worse (because the universe just likes to add a little more spice to your tragedies) of all people standing in this living room you just had to be paired with the one with whom you had a fling-like relationship six months ago.

It’s awkward before he even approaches you, the tension making you fidget in your spot anxiously, barely being able to shoot a tight smile his way.

The last time you saw Harry was through the rearview mirror of a car, standing on the sidewalk like an abandoned puppy with his tail between his legs. Though you admit you let your dramatics take away when you turned away from him to leave, the feeling behind it was genuine. You were upset. He had led you on, after all, made you think he wanted to have something more just to ignore you for months and, later, appear with a redhead under his arms and call her his girlfriend. So, yes, it wasn’t the best note to leave on.

But despite how you left the last encounter, the spark of nervousness that shoots through your stomachs right now doesn’t come exactly because of his presence, but more so for the awkward nature of this encounter. At the time it happened, you avoided any activity that had the slight possibility of seeing him again like the plague. You were hurt, and you were mad — though the second part was more directed at yourself than at him. But that was six months ago. After all, as much as you felt enchanted by him and as much as those two weeks you spent together were nice, that’s all that it was: two weeks. Yes, you were sad and, yes, maybe you shed a tear or two while watching Love, Rosie with Nia afterward, but that passed as quickly as it came.

That is, until now.

“Your hair is shorter” This Is all you blurt out when he stands in front of you again.

“It is, yeah.” Harry runs his hand through his hair. The strands that last time you saw him, curled around his jawline, now peek just under his earlobe. “Did it myself, actually.”

“Really?” You take a big gulp from your drink, gaze going anywhere but meeting his own. “Found yourself another talent.”

“Another?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“I mean, besides acting.” You grin, holding the cup to your lips and sparing him a glance. “Suppose after your debut you’ve gotten yourself busy with casting calls”

“Of course” Harry laughs. Now that you’re closer you have a better look at his dimples as they pop out, as well as the constellation of freckles hugging his nose, and the mole right under his lips. You avert your eyes again. “I’m set to be the next Bond, in fact”

“Oh, wow.” You raise your brows, grinning at the brim of your cup. “I can see it.”

He turns to you, “Can you?” You peek at him. "Why is that?”

This is exactly what you were afraid of all those months ago after last seeing him. The entire reason you ran from any possibility of seeing him again afterward. You can still remember clearly how much of a flirt he is, even when he doesn’t mean to be. It’s not a secret that Harry’s a charming man. His words are like honey, and when he uses them just right, you know is enough to have you melting. And it doesn’t help how well you seem to click together. Even now, you still feel it by your impulse to flirt back, to look him in the eye, and get just close enough to feel the scent of his cologne. Do all that just to turn away in the last second. Tease him the same way he did you. But you don’t do any of that, of course, because you’re as petty as you are bitter. So, instead, you click your tongue. “Don’t get too comfortable, Harry, bet your girlfriend wouldn’t be happy about that.”

He chuckles. “What girlfriend?”

This time you turn fully at him, brows shooting up not in defiance, but surprise. “Yikes.” You say before you’re able to hold back.

“Yikes.” Harry still holds a smile when he repeats it, head falling as he lets out a — nervous? — laugh.

A question pops into your head. One that lingered in your mind for a good while now, but comes back a bit louder now that you have the information that his relationship was short-lasted after all. It’s a short one, but one that requires a long answer, you suppose. What happened? You think. But you don’t dare to voice it, you don’t want to have this conversation with him. Whatever the explanation is, it’s not going to change anything. So you just avert your gaze back to Evan, who now calls for everyone’s attention again.

“I know you’re all dying to know what this is all about. So, I’m going to explain it all.” And with that introduction, Evan dives into a monologue you only pay half mind to. It’s hard for you to focus on the words rapidly leaving his mouth as you can feel Harry glancing at you every so often from the corner of your eye. You listen in to Evan describing himself as a feisty kid and mention his love for drama, and then you feel the ghost of Harry’s arm bumping against yours as he sways on his feet. You try to pay attention to the story being told of the events leading up to this birthday party, and then you have to hold yourself back from meeting Harry’s eyes once you feel them at the side of your face once again. He makes a comment under his breath that you don’t quite catch, and you’re about to question him before Evan’s voice comes in an even higher pitch. “I wanted tonight to be exactly that: chaotic. I didn’t want anything to quite make sense, and I didn’t want to think much, if I’m honest, last year of film school is taking a big chunk of my functioning neurons and m’dad’s whiskey collection is taking the rest of them.”

There’s a collective laugh that takes place and, once again, Harry’s eyes peeking at you. “Everyone can relax, it’s not one of those murder mystery parties, as I’ve heard some people guess — for fuck’s sake as if I have the time and patience to plan something like that.” He says with a sip directly from a wine bottle you just now realize he’s been holding. “It’s a scavenger hunt, you have a partner and an envelope with clues. Each pair will find something related to moi and after it’s all done, we’ll eat burgers and talk about me for the rest of the night.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Harry mumbles.

Evan claps his free hand on his wrist, hushing everyone. “So off you go, c’mon! I’ll be hungry in an hour.”

“This is gonna be…” You start. “Interesting.”

“Interesting is a great word to describe it.”

“Well, let’s try to do this as quickly as possible, then.”

The side of his lips quirks up. “On a rush?”

“This is not exactly a comfortable position to be. I think you get it.” You say, fidgeting on your feet. You wait for a second for him to say something so you can start the activity, but he doesn’t and you realize there’s a piece missing. “Do you have an envelope?”

Harry nods, reaching for his pocket where the envelope sits folded in half. He swiftly opens it, taking out a card.

“Well?” You prompt, “Read us the first clue, Bond.”

There’s a smile that Harry fights against at the nickname and you’re not sure due to the dim light, but you think there’s a hint of a rosy tone on the apple of his cheeks. “An activity that grows lives and ruins manicures.” He reads out loud, pausing for a moment before laughing to himself. “I know this one.”

“Grows lives?” You frown. “As in, a pregnancy?”

Harry shakes his head, leading the way towards the corridor. “As in, gardening.”

“That’s a very weird way to put it.” You say, following him. “Does he garden?”

He walks into the kitchen, greeting two people you don’t recognize who are searching for something — their clue, you assume — inside the cabinets. “No, but his sister does. There’s a greenhouse in the back.”

You simply hum in response, muttering a quick thank you as he opens the door for you that leads to the back garden. The greenhouse is not unfamiliar to you from the outside, there have been a good amount of summer gatherings in his back garden for you to know of its existence. But you’ve thought nothing more about it. If you’re honest, you never really paid much attention to it. If anything, you assumed he used it as storage at most, never taking Evan as someone who enjoyed gardening. Though now you know you were right, you've also learned that his sister lives with him and you wonder why he’s never mentioned it before.

The curiosity inside of you wants to question Harry about it, to ask him what else he knows you don’t. When you think about it, there’s a lot you want to ask him about. Not just regarding Evan, but also regarding him. You wonder what he’s been up in the past six months if he ended up adopting the kitten he’d told you about back when you were still filming or if he read any of the book recommendations you wrote on his notes app one particular night the two of you chatted for longer than the moon could hold itself up in the sky. The part of you that begs for you to say something on the short walk is so strong you have to physically bite your tongue to be able to hold back.

You don’t have to hold for long, however, as Harry takes it upon himself to say, “So,” He starts, clearing his throat, “How- uh- how are you doing?”

Somehow, his words click something inside of your mind. They remind you of why you shouldn’t let that curious part of you win. The sole purpose of it not falling for his charm. You shake your head, “We’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?” He frowns, his steps faltering for a second.

“Small talk.” You answer, focused on your goal. “We’ll just solve this thing as quickly as possible so I can go back home and finish my Euphoria marathon.”

“Right.” Harry nods once, and you can’t help but notice the way his lips quirk down, the frown not leaving his face. You can’t lie and say it doesn’t make your stomach drop the slightest bit to see you’ve upset him, but you have to remind yourself how much he’s upset you, too.

It’s protecting yourself, you think. After tonight, you don’t have to see him ever again.

Inside the greenhouse, you’re greeted with a mix of scents you’re not prepared for before stepping in. The space is compact, with a single corridor narrowed with garden beds on each side. Dozens of branches and leaves tickle you as you walk in, most of them belonging to different flowers that, despite the chilly weather that still lingers outside, are already blooming. It’s a blend of colors, bright reds, and ocean blues, soft purple petals kissing pink and yellow ones.

“We should look for gloves.” Harry’s voice startles you, chuckling as you jump a bit.

“Huh?”

“Gloves.” He says. “I think whatever we’re looking for has to do with the gloves, ‘cause he mentioned manicure.”

“That makes sense.” You look around. Many gardening tools are piling under the tables that hold the garden beds; watering cans and empty pots. You look between bags of fertilizer and drawers filled with shovels. There’s so much stuff to look through that, at one point, you sit back on your calves, glancing around, lost.

You hear Harry leafing through as you’re doing, feeling his legs brushing against your back as he passes by and you stop, watching him from your spot on the floor. He’s got a concentrated look on his face, bottom lip worried between his teeth as he scans through the walls before he opens another drawer. That’s when his gaze falls, catching yours. You quickly turn away, pretending to go through another pile of empty pots and blocking the sound of a chuckle coming from his spot.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the clicking of ceramics and the opening and closing of wooden drawers. That is until you hear from Harry, “A-ha!”

You look up again, seeing him move to the back where few pairs of gloves hang on the wall — so obvious yet still hidden between raincoats and summer hats. “Right under our noses.” You say, getting up.

Harry searches inside the gloves, tongue trapped between his teeth. “Bingo!” He says, pulling out two tiny bottles from inside one pair.

“What is it?”

“Liquor.” He grins, peeking at you from under his lashes before ripping a piece of paper attached to it. “It says ‘one for each, now get to clue number two.’” He holds up one bottle, offering it to you, to which you take it. “It’s chocolate flavored.”

“Of course it would be a drinking game.” You open it, feeling the artificial chocolate scent braid with the alcohol. “Christ.”

“Don’t smell it, or it’ll be worse,” Harry says, downing his with one quick tilt of his head. “‘S not that bad, actually.”

You mimic his action, letting the drink swiftly burn its way down your throat. Unlike Harry, you can’t help but scrunch your nose at the taste. “You’re a fucking liar.”

Harry only giggles in response, taking the empty bottle from you and placing it back inside the gloves, along with his own.

And then again, silence. You turn to the flowers to find some comfort.

A family of tulips glances back at you, their petals in a full red, it’s the kind of beauty you’re scared to ruin if you touch, so you just rest your hand on the wood. “They’re beautiful.” You only notice you say it out loud when Harry hums back in agreement.

“They are.” He says quietly but somehow feels loud by how close he is. “Tulips are my favorites.”

You stop, brows raising incredulously at him. “No, they’re not.”

“What?”

Cursing the universe for playing with you like this, you can’t help but laugh at the situation. “It’s just- they’re my favorites, too.” You look at him. “My nan used to plant them when I was little.”

“That’s sweet.” He says, smiling and you nod. “The red ones represent true love.” He points. “And the purple ones represent royalty.”

You blink at him. “Do you just look up tulip facts in your free time?”

Harry laughs. “Yeah, basically.” He looks down at you, and you can’t help but notice how the greenery around brings out the shade of his eyes. “I worked at a flower shop for a tick.”

“Really?”

He nods. “For eight months. My favorite part was writing on the store board every morning.” His face lights up as he recalls his experience. “I used to write silly stuff like, ‘one day I’d like to meet tulips.’ The old ladies loved it.”

You shake your head, breathing out a laugh. “You’re dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Why’s that?”

Because you’re sweet, you want to answer, because when I think I won’t get charmed by you again, you hit me with tulip puns. Your lip finds its spot between your teeth, you’d be damned to give him the satisfaction of hearing you tell him that, so, instead, you shrug. “Because.” You can tell he wants to dig more by the way his lip twitch up, teasing a smile, but you just nod towards the door before turning away from him and heading out.

There’s a distinct change of temperature when you step outside, and it’s only when you do that you notice the greenhouse was heated. Thankfully, the night is not too windy as it would get a week or two ago when winter was still insisting on making itself present, but it’s still chilly so that it makes you hug your jacket closer to your body. Harry also notices the difference, as you hear him wince as he steps out from behind you — unlike you, he’s not wearing anything to protect his arms from the cold, which only makes it harder for you to not ogle the tattoos hugging his skin.

“So, what’s next?” You prompt.

Harry reaches for the card again, taking it from its spot on his pocket before reading the second clue. “‘Not feeling too creative to write this one, it’s on the third tree on oak.’”

“I mean, at least we don’t have to think too much on this one.” You say, “Oak Street is the one to the left, right?”

“Yeah.” Harry sighs. “Can’t believe he’s making us go out on the streets.”

You start to make your way back towards the house. “Too tired for a stroll?”

“‘S cold,” Harry says, scrunching his nose. “Here, there’s a side gate.”

He guides you through a gravel path to where the black gate stands, hidden between bushes and branches. Strings of fern hug the bricked fence and the surrounding grass is high enough that it tickles your calves through your tights, making you believe this path has probably been left unused for at least a couple of months now. This information brings out an extra worry for you, as you take a better look at it, noticing how the gate is closed shut to the fence.“Is it open?” You wonder out loud.

“Shit, I don’t think it is.” Harry huffs under his breath. “But, I mean, we could easily jump it.”

You stop, turning to glance at him as the suggestion leaves his lips. He stands there, hands on his hips, examining the gate, tongue poking out as he frowns. After a second, he meets your eyes. “What? It’s not that tall.”

“I suppose.” You say, looking back at the fence that ends just below your shoulder length. It would be easy enough for you to climb it with a boost, however, “I’m wearing a dress.”

“Oh,” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “Let’s just go inside-” He turns back.

“Wait,” You stop him, not sure if it’s the slight amount of alcohol in your system already making you more adventurous, you train your gaze at the gate, analyzing it again, before looking back at him. Squinting your eyes, “You have to close your eyes.”

He laughs, “Are you sure?”

“It’s not that high.” You shrug. “But I need your help.”

“Of course.” He moves next to the brick wall, kneeling before it and nodding towards you. “C’mon, step up.”

Hesitantly, you glance at his thigh stretching his trousers, a sudden wave of insecurity hitting you. “Are you sure you can lift me?”

Harry simply puts his hand out in a silent request for you to hold. “Of course.”

“No peeking.”

He shuts his eyes tightly, chin meeting his chest as he looks down. And then you take his hand, feeling his fingers lock in a firm hold as he helps you use him for support. You hesitate again before using his thigh as a step, “Wait, I’m gonna ruin your trousers.” You worry, but Harry only shakes his head, still keeping it facing the ground, the strands of his hair falling above his eyes in a makeshift blindfold. When he doesn't feel you stepping in still, he encourages you with a squeeze in your hand.

You attempt to do as quickly as possible with your dress clinging to your legs, tightening your hold to Harry’s hand to step on his thigh. Once you let it go, you can still feel it lingering behind your back as you use your arms to boost yourself up the wall, sitting on it for a moment before jumping to the other side with a huff.

“Can I open them?” You hear Harry’s voice calls from the other side, and you smile, nodding even though he can’t see it.

“Yes!”

And then his face appears as he stands up in a jump, grinning at you. “See? Easy Peasy.”

“I feel like a teen sneaking out.” You say, and you instantly give another meaning to your words as Harry boosts himself up. This time, you certainly don’t hold yourself back from staring at the way his muscles flex at the movement, the tattoos on his arms stretching, and his shirt rolling up. He makes it look so easy, so effortless, barely taking five seconds until he’s jumping in front of you.

“That was fun.” He puffs, patting his trousers lightly.

“So, how are we finding the tree?” You ask, taking a quick glance to where his hands brush on the fabric of his trousers. “Should we read the clue again?”

“I know which one he’s talking about,” Harry says, nodding to the left before beginning his stride in that direction. You follow him, trusting his words as the two of you turn the corner where Evan’s house is located.

The street in question is much calmer than the one you were just in, with no cars coming or going from the residences — that stand much closer to one another, you notice, giving the whole street more of a narrow feeling to it --, which is not exactly odd, but certainly is a contrast with the main street that Evan’s home faces, that one being more lively with people either coming home or leaving it to enjoy their Friday night. The sudden lack of background noise makes the walk to your destination a tad awkward, as none of you make an effort to strike a conversation. Instead, you resort to silently observing the surrounding area as you walk alongside Harry, noticing how the trees here bend over the sidewalk, their naked branches slowly but surely growing back the leaves they lost months ago — it makes you wonder how beautiful this must look during the peak of springtime, their full branches blending together, making a ceiling of flowers.

“Here.” Harry stops abruptly, making you almost bump into his shoulder, as you were too busy with the scenery you’ve made in your own head. “‘S this one.”

“I thought it said the third one.” You frown, looking back and noticing the way you’ve passed way more than just three.

“This one is the third.” He says, motioning to a small birdhouse stuck to its trunk with a number ‘3’ painted to the front in blue. “It’s a bit of an inside joke,” Harry chuckles to himself. “Now I get why the bastard wanted me to have this card.”

You look closer at the tree, trying to see if there’s something attached to it besides the birdhouse, but there’s nothing. Before you can question it, Harry opens the front of the tiny house, retrieving two tiny bottles from inside of it, similar to the ones you found in the greenhouse. “Oh, no.” You say, laughing. “Did he just put liquor inside a stranger’s birdhouse?”

Harry shakes his head, “This is not a stranger’s birdhouse.”

“Huh?” You frown, glancing back to the house where you stand in front of, its front completely dark, showing that no one must be at home. You point to it over your shoulder. “Do you know who lives here?”

“Yeah,” He starts, offering you one bottle. “I do.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise, glancing back and forth from the house to the man standing in front of you, an amusing grin growing on his face. “You live here?” You ask, “This is your birdhouse?”

“It is, yeah. In fact, I was the one who built it.” He gives the birdhouse a small pat.

You can’t help but let your mouth hang open for a second. “That’s-” You pause, not sure which word to use. Impressive? Amazing? Hot? “That’s nice.”

Harry smiles, and the two of you stand there for a moment, admiring his work in silence. You suck your bottom lip in, keeping yourself from inquiring further.

Being presented with how little you know about Harry only peaks at your curiosity at what had happened last year in your brief experience with him. When you were with him it felt as if you’d known him for months rather than weeks, but looking back at it now, you wonder if your infatuation fooled you into thinking the two of you were close. Maybe that’s why you were so upset at the premiere after all because all that did was prove to you how much you didn’t know him at all. No matter how many sleepless nights you spent together sharing bits of your lives, it wasn’t enough for you to get to know him.

It’s only when a car turns into the street that you break away from your thoughts, looking up at him and clearing your throat. “We should take this back to Evan’s.” You say. “I’m not sure how it would look from an outsider’s point of view to see us downing these tiny bottles in the middle of the street.”

“You’re right,” Harry says. “Should we read the last clue while we’re at it?”

“Sure, yeah.”

He reaches for the card inside his pocket, presenting it to you. “You do the honors this time.”

You take the card, brushing your thumb over the words before stopping for a second to read them out loud, “You’ll find your prize behind the words of buried legends.” You snort. “That’s so corny.”

“Words of buried legends,” Harry repeats, letting out a hum. “Bet he was feeling quite poetic when he wrote this one.”

“Maybe because it has to do with poems.” You peek at him, a slight raise to your eyebrow. “‘Words of buried legends’? like dead poets and stuff?” Upon reading it again to make sure, you mumble, “He really made this card especially for you, huh?”

“Makes sense.” Harry agrees before nudging you playfully with his arm. “Look at you with your literary mind!”

“Could’ve used some better wording but I’ll let it pass.” You giggle, shrugging as you hand him back the card. As you do so, you notice there’s something written on the other side. “What’s in the back?”

Harry’s brows meet. “Huh?”

“In the back of the card, something’s written on it.” You nod towards his hand as he’s about to pocket the card again.

Harry turns it around, reading it with a chuckle. “Ice breakers.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Your mouth drops open in amusement. “Well? Go on, then. Break the ice.”

Harry makes a show of clearing his throat before reading the question as an announcement, “What celebrity do you think you could pull on your best day?”

“Is this the actual question?” You squint your eyes at him and he turns the card to allow you to read it as well. Surely, the same question reads right on top of it and, as you take a glance at the ones below it, they’re not that much better. You shake your head, “God, I have no idea.”

“I know mine.”

“You didn’t give a single thought on that one.” You say. “This should be good.”

“Jennifer Aniston.”

“Jennifer Aniston?” You stop on your tracks, raising your brows at him. “You know she was married to Brad Pitt, right?”

“Ouch.” Harry makes the theatrics of putting a hand on his heart, head falling dramatically to the side. “Right where it hurts.”

“I’m not saying you’re bad-looking, but he’s Brad Pitt.” You emphasize with a laugh, pushing him playfully as you keep walking. “Like he is the male beauty standard. Personified.”

The front of Evan’s feels more vivid than it was when you first walked in hours ago, the lights inside seeming lighter and the curtains having been pulled back, showing people wandering around on the inside. You walk past another pair crouched in front of the bushes that line next to the front gate that creaks as you open it.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Sure, let’s hear yours, then, sweetheart.”

“Ew, don’t ever call me that again.” Your nose scrunches and your face grows hot, but you attempt to shake it off, stopping to think of the question. “Huh, on my best day? I think… I don’t know, maybe Drake?”

“Oh, no!” Harry’s hands cover his face as he shakes his head into them. “I feel like that’s the most basic answer anyone could ever give to this question.”

You gasp. “Did you just call me basic?”

Harry holds the front door open for you and, before he’s able to give you an answer, you bump right into Nia. She instantly blurts out your name, as if she’s been expecting you to appear. “I’ve been looking for you!” She says, sparing Harry a glance over your shoulder before pulling you slightly to the side. “Do you think we could talk for a second?”

“Sure.” You hold out the word, looking at Harry before focusing on your friend again. “Did something happen?”

“No, no, nothing happened. Just—” Nia starts, locking your arms as she guides you back outside, pulling you to a corner a few steps away from the front door. “How are you? How's it going?”

“I’m fine. Why?” Your brows knit together at her interference and you wonder if it has anything to do with her conversation with Nate.

“I’m talking about-” She looks over her shoulder, clearly checking if anyone is listening in. Even after making sure that there’s no one there, she still lowers her voice. “When I saw he was your pair, I wanted to rescue you right away, but fucking Taylor pulled me with him and I didn’t get the chance.”

Oh. “Oh.”

“Is it too awkward?” She keeps her inquiry, holding your hand close to her chest. “We could ask them to switch so we can do the rest together, I’m sure Evan’s too plastered to notice.”

“Nia, I-” You smile as you come to realize that she pulled you aside just to check if you’re uncomfortable, having witnessed first-hand your whines and cries over Harry last year. “It’s okay, really. It’s not that bad, surprisingly.”

“Really?” Nia blinks, taken aback. “I- What happened?”

“Nothing.” You reassure her with a squeeze on her hand. “We’re just chatting, it’s not that awkward.”

“Okay.” She nods and nods, before falling serious again. “But if anything happens you just have to scream for me and I’ll be right there, okay?”

“Okay.” You say, pulling her for a brief hug. “Thanks, Ni.”

The two of you return inside just as Taylor brings up his brother’s hair sculpture collection that’s being exhibited at a local gallery — a subject you already have been the victim of hearing for about an hour during New Year’s and, by Harry’s face, he seems as helpless as you did back then. Nia doesn’t waste a second before pulling her pair away, “Let’s go, pal, those clues won’t solve themselves,” she shoots you a look over her shoulder, pushing Taylor towards the living room and you chuckle.

“He really is one of a kind, that man,” Harry says with a sigh before meeting your gaze. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just lady talk.” You brush aside. “Let’s find those poets, shall we?”

“We shall.” Harry smiles, looking around for a second before guiding you down the hallway, turning just before entering the kitchen where a staircase. This is a way that — like the greenhouse — you’ve never been to. Still, Harry navigates so casually as if it were his own home and, to some degree, you suppose it is. You follow him up the first flight of steps, stopping just before turning into the next one where a door you never really noticed before stands. Harry rests his hand on the handle, turning to you before saying, “There’s an office hidden right here.”

You watch as he opens it, motioning for you to walk in first. And, indeed, the inside of it is an office, just a bit smaller than the living room on the opposite side of the house. Two bookcases that go from the floor to the ceiling mostly covered the wall, only leaving a single space in the middle for a dark wooden cabinet. In front of it, an L-shaped desk takes up the middle of the room, most of it is filled with files and paper stacks, as well as two computers lying asleep. For a moment, you just stand by the doorway, admiring this room you’ve never known of its existence, your eyes quickly sweeping through the bookshelves completely packed with dark cover books of all sorts. “Do you think this is where it could be?”

“Probably, yeah.” Harry nods, turning on the lights. “I don’t know where else he could have any poetry hidden.”

You move towards one bookshelf, the one closest to the door, reaching to brush your finger through the spines perfectly lined. “But look at the size of these, we’ll take forever to find anything in here.”

“Those big ones are mostly law books, I think,” Harry says, opening cabinets at the other side of the room, right next to where a white couch stands. He turns to look at you, “His sister’s a lawyer, this is her office.” Harry says, “But Evan’s got a corner right here where he keeps some of his stuff— like books of sorts. It’s the only place I could think of.”

You hum, not knowing exactly what to respond to this information.

“You can go through the ones on that side, it could be there as well.” Harry nods towards a cabinet right next to the door where you came from, and you nod.

The first two cabinets are of no luck, both being mostly filled with boxes full of children’s books and old toys — some of them mixed with more stacks of paper, but those, instead of having long texts, have drawings of all kinds from what you could gather in a glance, from child-like scribbles to actual sketches. You can hear Harry going through drawers on the other side of the room and, upon closing another empty cabinet, you peek at him, watching his broad back flexing under his shirt as he moves around. Averting your eyes as swiftly as you looked, it’s still enough to bring warmth to your cheeks.

Finally, you open the cabinet at the very bottom of the shelf. On the top, there are piles of DVDs, most being different variations of Barbie movies, but, right at the bottom, you find books. You don’t stop to check their genre at first, simply moving them away until you stumble upon a small box, the top of it marked with the word ‘prize’. “Found it!” You call back, taking the box away from the pile before setting the books back in place again. “Under Rupi Kaur? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure she’s very alive.”

“Don’t tell Evan that,” Harry says as he crouches next to you, taking the box from your hands. Inside, there are, as expected, two tiny bottles like the ones you found before but, what calls both your attention, is a small bag of sweets lying in the middle. Harry takes it, “Oh, those are nice.”

He hands it to you and you open it, quickly shoving a jelly candy into your mouth before nodding. “Yeah.”

“So…” Harry starts, peeking over his shoulder, “Do you want to go back there?”

You glance at him, his eyes hovering above yours, lips twitching up just barely. “Uh… Maybe not right now.” You answer, “Unless you feel like sharing our Jellies with other people.”

Harry only laughs, shaking his head as he sits back and you do so too, right next to him. He reaches for his pocket, presenting another tiny bottle, the one you found inside his birdhouse, “We still got these.”

“Right!” You fetch your own out of the pocket of your jacket.

Harry opens his, holding it up towards you. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” You say, mimicking him.

Both of you down your drinks, the liquid tasting bitter, like medicine on your tongue, the only reminder of alcohol being the burn as it slides down your throat. You rest your head back on the cabinet behind you as the two of you fall into silence once more. A part of your mind is already beginning to swim around the space inside your head, and you decide to not take the last drink just yet, laying it next to your leg. Though you’ve only had the equivalent of two shots, you realize the long break you’ve had from drinking for the past couple of months -- which wasn’t exactly an intentional choice, but more like the result of your lack of free time -- is showing itself to have been enough to make you more of a lightweight.

And even though the night so far has been strikingly surprising in terms of how comfortable you felt being around Harry again, it doesn’t mean the questions you’ve been carrying since last year have gotten any quieter. They’ve only gotten louder. More persistent, even. The curiosity you feel to know what happened is almost suffocating now. And you’d be damned if you let a drunken mind stop you from having this conversation.

You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, only watching the back of his head bobbing along with the music -- still the piano -- that comes faintly from behind the closed door. Your lips part, feeling the question form right at the tip of your tongue, but not knowing how to voice the words. Will it be awkward? You think so, but what if it ruins the night? Tonight, that’s been so oddly refreshing. A night that only served to remind you how you became so infatuated with him in the first place.

But you know you won’t be able to let go of this ich inside your head unless you bring it up. And you want to, you do, but as you take too long to think of the right way to do so, Harry decides to break the silence, murmuring next to you, “That’s a good one.”

Your brows knit together, trying to make out any trace of familiarity within the song that’s playing, but you don't find any, which only leaves you even more confused. “Do you like classical?”

“Love,” Harry says simply, his eyes closed as he moves his head with the piano keys. “Especially this one. One of the greatest works from one of the greatest contemporary composers: Billie Eilish.”

Your lips fall open, “Shut up. Is she playing this?”

Harry laughs, a full one, that brings a grin to poke at your lips. “I mean, as far as I’m aware, no. It’s a version of her song — listen in.” He points to his ear, nodding with the melody as he sings along, “So you’re a tough guy, like it really rough guy.”

You shake your head incredulously, “Of course he’s playing classical versions of pop songs!”

“Did you really think Evan had a taste for Chopin or Debussy?” Harry asks both dimples poking on his cheeks.

“I think at this point I’d believe anything you tell me about him.”

Both of you laugh, the air surrounding you light and warm, before falling quiet again. This time, however, you simply stare at each other for a beat. You watch his eyes, with their almost hypnotizing jade shade, glancing between your own. He rolls his lip between his teeth, nibbling at it. This is the closest you’ve been to him all night, and the details on his face only feel like a reminder of your doubts. Like the nostalgia you feel with a bittersweet memory.

“Should we-“ You stop, the words falling from your lips before you can think about them. “Should we talk about the elephant in the room?”

You half expect Harry to frown, to play dumb, and question you the meaning behind your words. For a second, you even expect him to shake his head, to get up and leave the room. And, for some reason, you kinda want him to do so. To finally break the mask of the nice, sweet guy he’s been putting on all night and allow himself to play the role of cold prick you put him on for the past months.

But he doesn’t do it. He only gives you a short smile. “I was thinking about how to bring it up.” Harry’s gaze falls to his lap for a beat as he scratches his nose. “We should, yeah.”

You nod, more to yourself than to him. This is it. The moment to ask what you’ve been waiting for for six months now. You decide not to think much anymore, allowing the question to roll freely, “I don’t really know how to word this better but- pardon my French- what the fuck happened?”

Harry chuckles, but not an amused one. It’s more of a dry, nervous laugh. “How cliche is it if I tell you I was really fucking stupid?”

“Pretty cliche.” You say, “But also pretty true, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry for that.” He looks up, eyes meeting yours again, his own softening upon seeing you. “I really am.”

“Thank you for apologizing.” You smile a little, “But I think I deserve an explanation.”

“You do.” He speaks quietly before clearing his throat. For a second, he doesn’t say anything else, just takes a sharp breath, focusing on his fingers that play with the hem of his trousers. “I- Uhm- I know this might come as a surprise, but I’m not very good at letting people down.”

“A bit, I guess.” You try to humor, but your tone doesn’t show it. You sound quiet, hurt.

He peeks up at you, and continues, “Jess- the girl you met at the premiere- she’s lovely and all, but- how do I say this- we were never really supposed to be together.” Harry sighs, “I didn’t like her like that.”

You frown, “Then, why did you?”

“A couple of months before we met- before Evan even mentioned the film project to me, one of my mates kept insisting that I should meet his sister.” He pauses, “That was Jess.”

“I figured.”

Harry nods, “As I said, she’s a lovely girl, really nice, but we just- didn’t click like that, you know?” You hum in agreement, ignoring a small twist in your stomach when he repeats the endearment term. “But I guess she really wanted to try it, and, for months, I just kept pushing and pushing, cause I thought maybe with time I could bring myself to feel the same way.” And then again, another humorless laugh, “But- spoiler alert- I couldn’t and I should’ve just told her that.”

Your mouth hangs open for a beat before you decide against saying anything. It’s clear as you watch him explain that the entire situation for him felt more complicated than you’d ever considered. Not once did you think about the possibility of him being caught in a twist of his own decisions, and not once did you regard his feelings with the whole situation. In your bubble of gloominess, all you could think of was how he played you and used you for a bit before moving on to the next girl that fell for his sweet talk.

Looking at him now, however, his head low and brows set on a permanent crease, lips frowning down, you can feel the internal conflict pooling out of his pores. You’re not sure if it’s exactly a look of remorse that he gives you, but it sure seems close to it.

Harry huffs in what feels like frustration as he keeps recalling the events, “But all my mates kept taking the piss, pushing me to ask her out and then, in the middle of it, I met you.” He finally smiles a bit, and you have to look down to hide the warmth that spreads on your cheeks, “And we-uh-” He shrugs, “I mean, we clicked, didn’t we?”

“I think so.” You say, just above a whisper.

“I think so, too,” Harry says, holding your gaze with his own. “And when I was with you I let myself forget about that, forget about the pressure to be with someone else, I guess.” His lips fall again, eyes meeting his lap, “But when we came back, there wasn’t much running away from it anymore. The night we got back I met that friend of mine and, I’m not sure if he said anything to Jess, but she asked me out.”

“And you said yes.”

“I said yes.” He repeats, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have, but I said yes.”

“So you just dated her? Even if you didn’t like her like that?” You say, trying to understand his thought process. Even if his words tug at your heartstrings -- which you try to not think about right now -- you still can’t help but feel a bit for the other girl.

“I thought I could- I don’t know, I thought with time maybe I could-” He stumbles around with his speech, before finally letting out a sigh, “I don’t know what was going through my head, to be honest. I was a prick.”

“At least you can admit to it.”

“I was a prick to both of you.”

You fall quiet, hoping he takes your silence as an agreement. When he doesn’t offer anything else, you speak up again, “Did it work, though?” He frowns, and you clarify, “Letting time force feelings into you?”

“I found very quickly how hard it is to develop feelings for someone when there’s someone else on your mind.” He says, and you bite back a smile that wants to spread on your lips.

“It’s very easy to say that now.”

“I know.” He agrees, “And I wish I could’ve realized that earlier, before even bringing you into this mess.” Harry reaches for your wrist, which lies on top of your lap, giving it a gentle squeeze. “For that I really am sorry.”

“I know you are.” You reassure, turning your hand to find his, squeezing it back. “And what happened to Jess?”

“She was rightfully upset when I told her.” His thumb brushes against your knuckles, moving the rings on your fingers around just slightly, and it’s almost enough to distract you from his voice. “We broke up a day after the premiere.”

“Ouch.”

“But it’s fine now, she’s got a boyfriend now who actually cares for her the way she deserves,” Harry says.

“That’s nice to hear, at least.”

“It is, yeah.”

You look down at your hands locked in your lap, squeezing his one more time before letting it go with a sigh. “You really made a big mess, huh?”

He chuckles, a guilty smile poking on his face, “I did.”

You nod, finally reaching for the tiny bottle left forgotten next to you, opening it. This time you only take a sip, but it’s still enough to end half of the liquid inside. You click your tongue, “I’m glad we talked, though.” You look up at Harry again, who’s already watching you, giving a small tap on his thigh. “It’s nice to have closure, you know? To give it a conclusion and wrap with a nice little bow.”

Harry rolls his lip inside his mouth, “Is this a conclusion, then?”

You raise your brows, “Is it not?”

“I guess it could be.” He shrugs one shoulder, leaning closer to you just barely, eyes trained in yours. “But I’m hoping that, after today, maybe we could start over?”

You laugh, scrunching your nose at him as you shake your head. “Not a start over, no.” You poke his side, “You’re not getting away that easy.”

“You’re right.” He says, still not budging as he frowns his lips. “But I wish it didn’t have to be an ending as well.”

“Is that so?”

Harry nods, you can tell his eyes hold a shyness that wasn’t here a minute ago, but at the same time -- as paradoxically as it seems -- there’s a boldness as well, one you’re more familiar with. “Maybe we could chat again. This time with fewer ice breaker cards and more bags of sweets.”

You smile, rubbing your chin as you pretend to ponder about his suggestion. “That does sound very promising.”

“I really do think we clicked.” He drops his playful tone as if wanting to make sure you feel the sincerity behind his words. “Wasn’t just saying it.”

“I know.” You say, “And I think so, too.”

His smirk grows, and he doesn’t offer anything else to say, but you can tell he’s holding something back. With the silence, you suddenly become too aware of the way your arms brush together, and how his knee bumps against yours. You notice how his eyes fall a bit from yours, so quickly you could’ve imagined it, but you choose to not think so. If you lean forward, you know he will too, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. You’re not letting yourself make the first move.

Surely, you’re aware these thoughts are a direct result of the alcohol sweeping through your mind, testing how much of your pride you’re willing to ignore. There’s no questioning of the wall that you built all those months ago after walking out of this very house with this very man on your tail blurring out apologies. It still stands, tall and strong, and you're not letting sweet words mixed with a drink or two pull it down. Not that easily. But at this moment, looking at his stupidly beautiful face with his stupidly beautiful eyes so close to you, you feel like maybe you could peek through a window, or open up a door — just a creek, just to have a sample of what it would feel like if you were to pull it down.

“Do you want to go back?” Harry asks again, this time more quietly, this time his question has a different implication than it did before.

You're quick to shake your head, voice quiet, “Not yet.”

The corner of his lips quirk up and you raise your brows, silently daring him to ask what he’s been holding. You see his hand moving from the corner of your eyes, but you don’t break your gaze from his, not even when you feel his fingertips moving so gently against your cheekbone, brushing your hair away from your face. Harry leans closer, again just barely, and again, you stay still, only smiling softly in encouragement. Now, you’re stuck in your own silent conversation; both seeking the same thing but not making the move to achieve it -- either for pride or apprehension.

“I’d really like to kiss you right now,” Harry whispers finally, eyes moving down again, this time slowly, making sure that his intentions are clear.

“Do it, then.” You tease.

Harry breathes out a laugh, his hand caressing its way down to your jaw. He rubs his thumb against your cheek, a feathery touch, taking another second to look at you before pulling you in. Your eyes fall closed, as you focus on your senses, and allow yourself to peek from that window, or creek that door open just a bit, to have just this moment to remember when you first got lost in his touch.

First, it’s the warmth of his breath tickling your cupid bow, making your hold your own breath in anticipation. Then, the tip of his nose, gentle against your own, and you can’t help but lean in a bit more when you feel the ghost of his lips on yours. But he pulls back, just so slightly, hoping to have you reach for him again. Except you don’t, knowing what he’s trying to do.

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head, pulling back just a bit to look him in the eye. “You don’t get to tease me.”

Harry huffs out a laugh, “That’s fair.”

This time, there’s no teasing. Still, he goes in just as slowly as he did the first time around, curving his lips around your bottom one so softly it almost makes you lean in again. His kiss is cloud-like in a way that makes you a bit dizzy and when he presses his lips harder, you have to refrain from letting out a dreamy sigh -- still too stubborn to give him the satisfaction. It’s when you feel the tip of his tongue poking out to lick at your bottom lip in a silent request, that you pull away completely.

It’s your turn to smirk now, licking your lips before announcing, “I think we should go back now.”

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