#and i have SUCH a chip on my shoulder about it

[adrienneleclerc]

TikTok Gone Viral

Paring: charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina reader

Summary: Y/N used a specific TikTok audio and it goes VIRAL

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: I had this audio in my head so like why not. It’s my version of making Y/N a “PR nightmare” as other fanfic authors put it

Y/N was scrolling through TikTok while Charles was washing dishes, as he should because she cooked, and came across a video of a girl using a Megan Thee Stallion song with the caption “ovulation week be like”. She thought it would be fun to use the same audio so she put her phone against the napkin stand they have in the counter and started recording.

I need *points to self* this pussy *points down* on his *points to Charles off screen* nose *points to her nose* I spread it, I spread it, I pose *random dancing*

However, she did not see Charles move into the frame as she danced because she had her head down and just posted it without looking back at it. She did caption it “needing my boyfriend a little too much lately” and just exited TikTok. Their relationship has always been private, no one really knew Charles was dating anyone after Alexandra and they’ve only been dating for a few months. At least it WAS private.

“What were you filming, Mon ange?” Charles asked.

“Just a silly little TikTok, muñeco, don’t pay mind to it.” Y/N said.

“Alright well I’m done with the dishes, you want to watch a movie?” Charles asked

“Can we watch ‘Nosotros Los Nobles’?” Y/N asked.

“Whatever you want, Mon ange.” Charles said.

“Get the chips.” Y/N said as she got up from where she was sitting to head to their bedroom for a blanket while Charles gets chips from the pantry. They both headed over to their couch, sat down, Y/N put the blanket over them, and Charles gave her the bag of chips and passed her the remote. “Okay, it’s has English subtitles, so I hope you find this movie funny.”

“I’m sure I will.” Charles said. Sadly, both fell asleep on the couch, charles was cuddling Y/N. However, with Charles’s phone charging in his bedroom, he missed multiple missed calls from the Ferrari media manager, Fred, Pierre, Arthur, and his other friends. Y/N also has missed calls from her friends

The next morning, Y/N woke up on top of Charles. She shook him awake.

“Muñeco, we fell asleep on the couch, get up.” Y/N said and Charles woke up.

“Mm, what time is it?” Charles asked.

“I Don’t know, my phone is charging in the room.” Y/N said, getting off the couch to get her phone.

“Can you get my phone too?” Charles asked.

“Sure thing, muñeco.” Y/N went to their bedroom and unplugged their phones and she was shocked to see how many missed calls both of them received. “Charles, you have so many missed calls, here.” Y/N handed him his phone.

“Thanks Mon ange.” Charles said. He unlocked his phone and called the media manager. “Hello?”

“Charles I’ve been trying to reach you yesterday, your girlfriend posted something on TikTok.” The media manager said and Charles was very confused.

“How do you know I have a girlfriend?” Charles asked and Y/N’s head popped up.

“What about me?” Y/N whispered asked and Charles made an “I don’t know” face.

“The whole world knows she your girlfriend because you’re in the background of her now VIRAL TikTok. I’ll talk to you later.” The media manager hung up and Charles looked at Y/N.

“Ma Belle, my beautiful beautiful girlfriend, what did you post on TikTok last night?” Charles asked. Y/N took out her phone to open up TikTok.

“Just a silly TikTok using a trendy audio…oh shit, I gained SOOO many followers.” Y/N laughed and Charles took her phone to click on her profile and see the video he posted. His eyes widened when he saw himself appear on screen. The video had 9.1 million likes, 60.7 thousand comments, 231.8 thousand saves, and 76.3 thousand shares. Y/N looked over his shoulder. “Oh that’s why the video went viral. Oh I’m so sorry, muñeco, I didn’t know you appeared, I didn’t rewatch the video before posting, are you in trouble?”

“I don’t think I’m in trouble but now I have to introduce you as my girlfriend.” Charles said. “We are no longer private, Mon ange.”

“Shit, I was doing so well without the hate comments.” Y/N pouted and Charles chuckled before kissing her.

“I hope you’re ready, Mon ange.” Charles said before he grabbed his phone to record a video. “Hello everyone, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. We have been dating for a few months. Say hello, Mon Chou.” Charles said, pointing the phone to Y/N.

“Hello” Y/N waved shyly. Charles pointed the phon back to him.

“We met at her job, she’s actually a bartender, it was after my break up with Alex, we talked, we hit it off, we started hanging out, and now we’re dating, not that it’s any of your business. But I like her a lot and we’re happy together.” Charles stopped the video and posted it on his Instagram.

“You really had to say I was a bartender?” Y/N asked.

“Well you are a bartender, mon coeur.” Charles said.

“Watch them say I’m only after your money.” Y/N said.

“But we both know that’s not true, your salary is pretty good AND you get tips. I am glad I don’t have to hide you anymore though, I can finally post pictures of us together.” Charles said, kissing her.

“Well I’m glad you’re happy. Do you have to go to maranello?” Y/N asked.

“Nope, you want to go out today? We could go on the yacht.” Charles suggested.

“Ooh, a picnic on the yacht?” Y/N asked,

“Yep.” Charles said.

“I’m gonna start cooking.” Y/N said already looking in the pantry to see if they have anything to make. Charles just looked at her with love in his eyes, now the whole world knows he has the cutest person as his girlfriend.

The End

Hope y’all liked it, I found this very fun to write. Also, is there a market for Logan Sargeant x Hispanic reader fanfics?

#hispanic reader #latina #hispanic #tiktok gone viral #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 1: Welcome To A New Kind Of Tension]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “American Idiot” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“What do you think, should we kill ourselves now or later?” Rio is spinning his Beretta M9 around on his index finger. This is not advisable. He doesn’t care.

Your hands are gripping the skeletal latticework of the transmission tower, steel hot enough to burn you; no electricity hums in the power lines suspended above your heads. Your eyes are on the horizon, golden June sunlight over fields no one has planted. Weeds are growing up through the earth, feral and defiantly useless, reclaiming their land just like the deer are, and the rabbits and the opossums and the turtles and the squirrels and the doves. The reign of humanity is over. Now you’re prey animals too. “Let’s wait.”

“For what?”

“Maybe someone will save us.”

“Ain’t nobody coming, Chips!” Rio says. “We’re a hundred feet off the ground in the middle of nowhere, motherfucking Catawissa, Pennsylvania, and we haven’t run into anyone since that Amish family back in Lightstreet, and I wouldn’t count on them driving by in their horse and buggy to pick us up.”

“We’re about sixty feet off the ground.”

“Okay, Bob the Builder, why don’t you whip up a helicopter or something to get us out of here?” Rio’s M9 has one bullet left in it, yours has three, nowhere near enough. At the bottom of the tower is a swarm of fifty-four zombies; you’ve counted them twice. There are no cute euphemisms: walkers, biters, the infected. They were once people and now they’re not. They wear the vestiges of their former lives, like how those who believe in reincarnation see meaning in birthmarks: here you were stabbed, there you were kissed by your true love. They lurch and snarl and hiss in their professional attire, college t-shirts, Vans and Jordans, septum piercings, wedding rings. They decompose in a miasma of metallic blood and spoiled meat. Parker had been the last one to the transmission tower, and they grabbed him by the legs. Now they’re chewing the gristle off his bones: disconnected ligaments that swing like strands of cobwebs, scarlet threads of muscle. “Oh shit,” Rio says, looking down. “We’ve got a smart one.”

Most zombies don’t have the fine motor skills to climb, swim, or open doors, but every once in a while—just like out of every 5,000 or 10,000 or however many ordinary humans you’ll pull the lever on the genetic slot machine and get a Picasso or a kid who can score a 1600 on the SATs—you run into an overachiever. This zombie, a teenage boy with red hair and a blue plaid shirt, is slowly scaling the tower. He’s already ten feet off the ground.

Rio aims his M9, semiautomatic, packs a punch but won’t break your arm with the recoil. “Fuck off, Ed Sheeran!” He fires and misses; the bullet grazes the boy’s shoulder. He groans dramatically and asks you in defeat: “Will you take care of that, please?”

You pull your pistol out of your holster and lean away from the tower to get a better angle, holding onto the scaffolding with one hand. You feel Rio’s large fingers close around your wrist, ready to yank you back if you slip. You click off the safety with your thumb, peer through the front sight, aim and wait until you’re sure. It’s a headshot: shards of skull ricochet off steel beams, half-rotten brains spray out in a mist. The carcass plummets to the earth.

“All this horror, all this catastrophe.” Rio’s eyes, dark like a mineshaft, drift mischievously back to you. “We could…distract each other.”

He’s not serious; this is a game you play. “No thanks.”

“You don’t want to die a virgin.”

“I do if you’re the only other person up here.”

“You deny a condemned man his final wish?”

“We’re not dying,” you insist. “What about Sophie?”

“Sophie would understand given the circumstances. She would want me to be happy.”

“What if we have sex and then immediately thereafter get rescued? You’d be a cheater. You’d be consumed by guilt. You’d never be able to take me back to your parents’ doomsday prepper cult commune in bumblefuck Oregon to wait out the apocalypse in peace.”

“You’re going to appreciate those doomsday preppers when you’re eating Chef Boyardee out of a can instead of shuffling around as a reanimated corpse.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I will,” you muse. “So you agree we’re going to get off this tower somehow.”

Rio sighs and whistles a morose tune: what a shame. “You should have gone out with that Marine at Corpus Christi.”

You frown, repentant, wistful. There’s nothing on the horizon except fields and trees and black storm clouds of crows taking flight. “I was afraid of making a mistake.”

“And now look at you. About to die as pure as Pope Francis.”

“How did this happen?! We’re not idiots, we’re goddamn professionals!” You re-holster your M9. You’re still wearing your uniforms from when you went AWOL, stealing away from Saratoga Springs like rats from a sinking ship.

“I’ll tell you exactly how this happened. You let that loser Parker come with us even though I knew it was a bad idea—”

“I couldn’t just leave him there! He started crying!”

“And he had one job, which was to check the oil in the Humvee, and clearly he failed because…” Rio glances at his watch. “Approximately four hours ago, the engine started smoking and the whole thing died on us, so we had to get out and walk, like we’re pioneers or some shit, and then that hoard down there came out of nowhere, and the only place left to go was up. Freaking Parker. I could murder that guy.” An awkward pause. “I mean, the zombies beat me to it. But still.”

“He had two jobs. He was also carrying the extra ammo.”

“Don’t remind me.” Rio isn’t messing around with his M9 anymore. He’s contemplating it as the sun hovers just past noon, hot and shadowless. “How many bullets do you have left?”

“Two.”

“Good. Don’t use them.”

You look at him, this man you’ve known for over four years, this man you’ve traveled the world with. You’ve already gone so much farther than Oregon together. How is it possible that what was once a six hour flight is now a month-long journey that might kill you? “It’s not over yet, Rio.”

“Remember what you promised me.”

His hushed voice in the moonlit indigo of the Humvee the night you left Saratoga Springs: Don’t let me die alone. “We’re going to be okay. We’re going to make it to Oregon.” Then you grin, sweltering summer air breathing over you, humid, heavy, the screeching of insects in the trees. “But if it comes to that, I’d be happy to shoot you first.”

Rio smiles as the zombies below growl and claw at the steel framework of the transmission tower. Flesh peels off their fingers until you can see the gore-stained white of their bones. “Don’t miss.”

“I rarely do.”

“Do you have any more packs of Cheddar Whales in your pockets or—?” He cuts off as he spots something in the distance. His eyes go wide, his jaw drops open. “What…what is that?!”

It’s an SUV, massive, dark blue, rumbling across the field in a dust storm of displaced earth. It’s headed straight towards you. There is someone standing up through the sunroof, short dark hair that whips wildly in the wind, binoculars. You can hear the engine revving and, faintly, Kanye West’s Gold Digger. As the SUV nears the tower, Sunroof Kid ducks inside and closes the hatch.

Rio explodes into hysterical, rapturous laughter. “Oh my God, we’re saved! We’re not going to die up here! Oh, thank you, Jesus, thank you. I’m never going to jack off on Sundays again.”

The SUV, still accelerating, plows through the mob of zombies. Severed limbs go flying; bones crunch and snap. There’s a woman driving, you can see now through the slightly tinted windows. She puts the monstrous vehicle and reverse and does another pass. Zombies paw futilely at the sides of the SUV, a Chevy Tahoe, as it turns out. They smack their open, soggy palms on the windows; they gnaw and lick at the bumpers and the wheel wells. The Tahoe circles to regain speed, the engine growling, a bear, a dragon, and barrels into the remaining ambulatory zombies. The hoard is now largely incapacitated. Rio is cheering and clapping his hands.

The Tahoe’s doors open, and your rescuers appear. There are two men wielding baseball bats: one with long dark curly hair, the other tall and blonde, and there’s something wrong with his face, the left side, though you are too far away to see clearly. They move rapidly through the battlefield of felled, moaning bodies, swinging their bats and crushing skulls. There’s another blonde guy, shorter, softer, pink with sunburn, wearing plastic sunglasses and a teal polo with a popped collar. He’s spinning a golf club in his right hand. He is followed out of the Tahoe by one last blonde, spindly and swift, stalking the perimeter with a compound bow, a quiver of arrows secured to his belt. Rio is singing along to Gold Digger, drumming his fists on the steel beams.

“Now, I ain’t sayin’ you a gold digger, you got needs

You don’t want a dude to smoke, but he can’t buy weed

You go out to eat, he can’t pay, y’all can’t leave

There’s dishes in the back, he gotta roll up his sleeves…”

The driver wriggles out of the Tahoe with some difficulty; she is seven or eight months pregnant. “Stay in the car,” Madame Driver tells someone inside as she slams the door shut. She’s holding a hammer and sets about euthanizing the zombies still squirming on the ground and gnashing their cracked teeth at her.

Golf Club says: “Jace, bro, that’s so embarrassing. You’re gonna let her do that?”

Curly—or, rather, Jace—shrugs. “Exercise is good for the baby.”

All three blondes respond at once in a chorus of appalled disapproval. Interestingly, your rescuers have British accents. From within the Tahoe, someone turns off the CD player. This is wise; noise tends to attract more zombies. Madame Driver, unaffected, puts her hammer through the eye socket of a former Arby’s employee.

Jace flings back: “She likes helping! It would be sexist to tell her she’s not allowed to!”

The Scarred Man looks up at you and Rio and salutes, two fingers glanced off his forehead. You begin climbing down the scalding rungs of the transmission tower to meet them.

“Oh fuck, Aemond, you gotta deal with this,” Golf Club says. He is holding a yowling zombie at arm’s length by the straps of its overalls. It’s tiny, maybe a kindergartener. “You know I can’t kill the little kid ones.”

The Scarred Man, Aemond, turns to him. He’s wearing a maroon Harvard University t-shirt. “You have to learn how to do things yourself. I might not always be around.”

Golf Club scoffs. “As if I’d outlive you.”

“Go on. You can do it,” Aemond says. Behind him, more people are emerging from the Chevy Tahoe: Binoculars Buddy, a slight girl with shifting, watchful eyes, a blonde woman in a billowing sundress and with a burlap messenger bag slung over one shoulder.

Golf Club is still struggling. “Aw, Aemond, man, he’s got light-up sneakers!”

Jace strides over irritably. “Aegon, you’re so fucking useless…” He kicks the miniature zombie to the dirt, raises his bloodied baseball bat, and brings it down on a skull that disintegrates like an overripe Halloween pumpkin. “You’re welcome.”

“Get bit, you poodle.”

Rio hits the ground first, his boots thumping against untamed earth. Aemond sets his baseball bat aside and reaches out to offer assistance as you dangle from a white-hot steel beam. “No,” Rio tells him roughly. “Back up.”

Aemond shows his palms and complies, retreating several paces. Rio helps you down. Now you can see Aemond’s face perfectly. There’s a relatively fresh wound running down the left half of his face, the violent red of burgeoning scar tissue, clear stitches; his eye has been sutured shut. But that’s not why you’re staring at him. His other eye is a focused, hypnotic blue, his short blonde hair disheveled. He keeps touching his chin, a nervous tick. Immediately, there’s something you like about him. He gives you the impression of someone who has gotten very good at hiding how afraid he is. Aemond looks away from your gaze, thinking you’re horrified by his injury. Then, reluctantly, he comes back. There’s forbidden temptation the lines of his ravaged face, a curiosity, a hesitation.

“Thank you for saving us,” you say to your rescuers, tearing your attention from Aemond. It’s not easy. “That was really, really cool of you, and we know you didn’t have to do it. So thanks.”

“Yeah,” Rio adds. “Sorry your Tahoe is covered in guts now.”

Aemond turns to confer silently with his companions, then asks you: “Where are you headed?”

“Odessa, Oregon.”

He nods. “We’re going to California.”

“NorCal,” Jace says, holding his baseball bat across his shoulders. “Bay Area.”

“Are you two together?” Aegon asks.

“Yeah,” Rio says, misunderstanding the question.

“Not like that,” you clarify. “He has a wife and baby, that’s what’s in Oregon.”

“So you’re single,” Aegon says, grinning toothily. His fellow travelers—family? friends? classmates? a combination thereof?—grumble and roll their eyes.

“Um, I mean, yeah, technically…?”

“Aemond’s also single,” Madame Driver informs you, relishing the chaos.

“He’s single but deformed and traumatized,” Aegon says. “I am mentally uninjured.”

You chuckle awkwardly. Your eyes, by their own volition, flick back to Aemond. He peers down at the ground then up at you again, smiling, a little sheepish, a little wicked.

Aegon groans, swinging his golf club around. “Man, come on.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Aemond replies.

“No, it’s just right there, all over your fucked up face.”

Madame Driver feigns a sympathetic frown at Aegon. “How sad. Guess you won’t have anyone to give your syphilis to.”

“I don’t have syphilis,” Aegon tells you. Then, to the others: “I can’t be the only single guy! It’s pathetic!”

“I’m single,” Archery Team says brightly.

“You’re like twelve. You don’t count.”

“I’m seventeen!”

“Are you Army?” Aemond asks you and Rio.

“Navy,” Rio replies. “We were stationed at Saratoga Springs in upstate New York.”

Aemond is fascinated. “You’re deserters?”

“What are you gonna do about it, Brit Boy?” Rio says. Aemond blinks at him. Aegon cackles, drawing huge circles in the air with his golf club.

“Everyone’s deserting,” you explain diplomatically.

“They were going to evacuate the base and send everyone left into New York City,” Rio says. “Fuck that, we’d heard things, we weren’t about to go on some suicide mission. We weren’t even in a combat unit for Christ’s sake, we’re Seabees.”

“You’re what?” Aemond asks, puzzled.

“We do construction. That’s why we were still at the base. If they’re putting us on the front lines, the situation is truly desperate. I’m not going in the meatgrinder. I’m not gonna be like those Hitler Youth kids sent to Russia.”

Aegon is squinting behind his sunglasses, truly lost. “Huh?”

“We should go west together,” Aemond suggests. He’s attempting to sound casual.

“I thought we didn’t want to travel with strangers, Aemond,” Jace says pointedly, mocking him. “I thought they couldn’t be trusted, Aemond. I thought they might slit our throats and steal our Tahoe in the dead of night, Aemond.”

“We’re useful!” Rio bargains. “We can shoot things!”

Aegon is very confused. “I thought you did construction.”

“Everyone has to go through basic training,” Aemond tells him impatiently, watching you.

“She got the Marksmanship Medal,” Rio says, grinning, proud.

“A lot of people get that,” you demur immediately.

“We can give you guys weapons training,” Rio continues. “You seem…like you probably don’t know about guns. Like you read a lot of books.” He gestures to Aegon. “Except that one.”

Aegon snickers, unoffended, still swinging his golf club around. “I don’t read books. I read maps.”

“Okay, lets do it,” Aemond says. “We’ll stick together across the Midwest and split up before we get to the Pacific. That puts us at ten people, and there’s safety in numbers.”

“Why do you get to make all the decisions?!” Jace demands. “Who signed that fucking contract? I didn’t consent to those terms.”

“Because that’s what Criston told us the last time the phones worked,” Aegon replies smugly. “He said Aemond’s in charge. So he is. If you want to find your way to California on your own, you’re welcome to try.”

“Who’s Criston?” you ask.

“Our fake dad,” Aegon says.

“Oh, your stepdad?”

“No, our mom is still married to our dad, he just sucks.”

“He does suck,” Archery Team confirms.

Rio tells you: “Hey, Chips, you’re standing in a torso.”

“Am I?” You look down. Your boots are buried to the ankles in the rotting gore of a bare midsection with only one limp arm still attached. You step out of it and shake off the bits of decomposing organs. “Gnarly. Thanks.” You spot Parker’s backpack containing the extra ammunition, pick it up out of the dirt, and throw it over your shoulders.

“Chips?” Aemond says. “Like…chocolate chips?”

“No, like woodchips. I’m a carpenter. I mean, I was a carpenter, I guess. That’s what I did in the Navy. Some people call the carpenters Chips.”

“I was an electrician,” Rio says. “So clearly, now that all the power is down, that turned out to be a fantastic career path.” Then he formally introduces himself. “Hi everyone, I’m Rio.”

Aegon perks up. “Oh, like the Rio Grande.”

Rio pretends to be scandalized. “Wow, racist.”

“So racist,” you agree.

Aegon’s chubby pink face fills with horror. “No, wait, I didn’t…um…”

Rio laughs and taps the nametag on his chest, black letters stitched over green camouflage: Osorio.

“His first name’s Bryan,” you say. “But no one calls him that.”

“My mom calls me Bryan. Sophie calls me Bryan.”

Aemond points at his companions, one after the other. “That’s my brother Aegon and my sister Helaena. Jace and Luke are our cousins. Then Baela and Rhaena are their girlfriends. Well, Baela…she’s kind of a fiancée. But there’s no official ring yet.”

Jace says: “Unfortunately, all the jewelry stores were looted on account of the apocalypse.”

“And I’m Daeron,” Archery Team says buoyantly, waving. Then he shields his eyes as he notices something at the edge of the field. “Oh, guys…?”

There are zombies approaching with clumsy, staggering strides, only a few now, but more will follow. That’s the thing; they are in seemingly endless supply. It’s easy to get too comfortable with them, to think of them as slow and mindless, even comical, even pitiful. But they can surprise you. And it only takes one bite to become just like them.

“Time to return to the Tahoe,” Baela announces, waddling towards the driver’s seat. Rhaena climbs in the passenger’s side. The rest of you pile into the back. The SUV has nine seats; Aegon crouches on the floor without being asked to. He’s unfolding a map he pulled from the pocket of his salmon-colored shorts and laying it flat across Rio’s knees so everyone can see. Baela turns the key in the ignition and the Tahoe rumbles to life. You spot a few red gas cans under the seats. If you can’t find more when that runs out—siphoning it out of other vehicles, stumbling across a gas station that is miraculously not drained dry—you’ll be walking, biking, or skateboarding to the West Coast. Or embracing the Amish lifestyle with a horse and buggy.

“We were planning to swing by Fort Indiantown Gap,” you tell Aemond. He twists around in his seat to look at you, that absorbed crystalline blue gaze. “That’s where we were headed before our Humvee broke down. It’s a National Guard Training Center. It’s probably cleaned out like everywhere else, but if it’s not…we might be able to find some guns and ammo there.”

“Where is it?”

“An hour south of here, just outside of Harrisburg.”

Baela is watching Aemond in the rearview mirror. He gives her a nod. “How do I get there?” Baela asks you.

“South on Route 42. Did you see the signs on your way in…?”

“Yup. Got it.” Baela steers the Tahoe across the field, kicking up a vortex of parched soil. She intentionally runs down four zombies before swerving left onto a two-lane road. Then she turns up the volume on the CD player: War Pigs by Black Sabbath. “It’s a mixtape,” she informs you.

Aegon points to southcentral Pennsylvania on a map of the United States of America, highway arteries and local route veins. “We’re here,” he says, sliding around on the floor of the Tahoe as Baela drives. His index finger traces the path; it’s a precarious balance between avoiding the most heavily populated areas and still having access to the necessary trappings of civilization: supplies to scavenge, roads to follow, buildings to take shelter in. “We’ll stop by Fort Indiantown Gap and then head northwest, thread the needle between Pittsburgh and Cleveland, stay south of Detroit and Chicago, cut across Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming, that top part of Utah, then go our separate ways in Nevada. Oh my God, it’s just like the Oregon Trail! Do you guys remember that game?! Fording rivers, getting dysentery, hunting bison to extinction?” He starts humming the theme song.

Jace smirks, chomping on a Twizzler. “Hope you don’t die of a snakebite or something. That’d be awful.”

Aegon ignores him and refolds the map. “Rio! Fuck, marry, kill. The last three first ladies before Biden.”

Rhaena says, exasperated: “Aegon, you have to stop asking people that. It’s inappropriate.”

“Oh, easy,” Rio replies. “I’m fucking Laura Bush.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Aegon gives him a high five.

“And then I have to marry Michelle.”

“You gotta.”

“Which means Melania gets the grape Flavor Aid.”

“It’s the only logical answer.”

“I’d fuck Melania,” Jace says.

“Of course you would, you sick, sick man,” Aegon mutters, rolling down a window and sticking his head out like a golden retriever, his sunglasses still on, his blonde hair flapping in the wind. There’s a tattoo in black ink on his forearm, you notice for the first time: It’s not over ‘til you’re underground.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fort Indiantown Gap is a ghost town like a gold seam emptied, an oil well run dry, a collapsed coal mine. There’s no central armory but instead a series of arms rooms, one for each unit. Every single scrap of lethal metal is gone: no pistols, no rifles, no grenade launchers or machine guns, no ammo, not even pocketknives, although you do find clean PT uniforms for you and Rio to change into, t-shirts and running shorts and sneakers. Clothes are surprisingly difficult to acquire now. Most stores have either been looted or overrun by zombies, and Amazon is tragically no longer delivering. You can break into houses that seem abandoned, but then you have to hope the people who lived there just so happened to be your size and also aren’t waiting inside to eat you. It’s not usually a wise gamble.

You study Aemond and his companions as you move through the base clearing buildings, you and Rio with loaded M9s in your holsters and clutching borrowed baseball bats; gunshots are best avoided if possible so as not to attract unwanted attention. Aemond and Jace take point, almost always; Aegon hovers on Aemond’s blind left side, wagging his golf club around, occasionally slapping Aemond’s shoulder to remind him he’s there. Daeron prowls at the back and on the periphery. Baela pretends she isn’t struggling to keep up. Luke and Rhaena are the lookouts. Helaena fills her burlap messenger bag with small treasures you don’t even notice her accumulating: bottles of Advil, batteries, lighters, pens, tweezers, Band-Aids, Uno cards. You encounter only three zombies, easily decommissioned. Fort Indiantown Gap must have been evacuated weeks ago. You wonder what pointless battles her soldiers died in. Everyone knows the dead have won.

What the abandoned base lacks in weaponry it makes up for in food. You find a chow hall with an untouched kitchen, a wealth of shelf-stable delicacies: chili, saltine crackers, applesauce, fruit cocktail with bright red gems of cherries, peanut butter, strawberry jelly, green beans, carrots, peas, beets, tuna fish, chicken noodle soup. You feast—a Thanksgiving, a Last Supper—then settle into the barracks next door as the sun begins to set. There are plenty of bunkbeds and a closet full of pillows and sheets. Someone always has to be up to keep watch; Daeron and Jace immediately go to sleep so they can get some rest before they are shaken awake sometime around 2 or 3 a.m. Baela says she’s going to lie down for a minute and almost immediately begins snoring. Helaena makes silent amendments in her notebook; she keeps an inventory of everything the group has, needs, or wants.

Outside, Rio and Aegon are engaged in a spirited game of Uno. Luke is sitting cross-legged on the roof of the Tahoe with his binoculars. Rhaena is beside him softly reading a book out loud: The Hunger Games. Aemond is on a wooden bench on the front porch of the barracks, watching the sun sink into the west. When he notices you, he seems pleased. “Hi.”

“Hi. I’m sorry we wasted your gas to come here.”

“No, it was a good idea. It was worth a shot. And now we have a safe place to sleep tonight.” His eye drops lower, his scarred brow crinkles in concern. “What happened to your hands?”

“My hands?” In the haze of the adrenaline, you didn’t even notice. Your palms are blistered, swollen and stinging. “Oh. It was the transmission tower. The steel beams got really hot while we were up there. I’ll be okay.”

“Let me bandage them. You don’t want to get an infection.”

“Really, I’m fine, I shouldn’t inconvenience—”

“Sit down,” Aemond insists. You take a seat on the bench while he goes to the Tahoe to fetch a black nylon bag about the size of a briefcase. Rio casts you a furtive, crafty grin. It’s nothing, you mouth back, more to convince yourself than him. Your pulse is thudding in your ears; your cheeks are warm. You haven’t felt like this since you almost agreed to go on a date with that Marine you met at Corpus Christi, where your battalion had been dispatched to build a series of new airplane hangars. Aemond returns to the bench and begins wiping down your palms with antiseptic. “Sorry if this stings.”

It does, but you’re grateful for the distraction. “It isn’t too bad.”

“You’re not from Oregon.” He’s noticed your accent.

“Kentucky,” you confess.

“You aren’t making a stop at home before traveling west?”

“Why would I want to go back there?”

Aemond looks at you uncertainly; he can’t tell if you’re joking. You like the way his voice goes quiet when it’s just the two of you. You like the way he barely shows his teeth when he talks, like he’s keeping secrets.

After a moment, as the sky begins to turn to orange and pink and lilac, you continue. “People join the Army for a paycheck and a place to sleep, free college, health insurance. People join the Marines to prove they’re the best. People join the Air Force because they want to be in the military but think they’re too smart for grunt work. And people join the Navy to get away from home. I wanted to get far, far, far away.”

Aemond smiles. “Are you far enough yet?” He doesn’t mean by miles. He means the fact that the world will never be the same. Now he’s coating your hands in a thick white ointment, cool and blissful.

“I was afraid of so many things, and now none of them matter.”

“We all have brand new things to be afraid of.” He gets a roll of gauze and begins to wrap your palms, careful to keep your fingers and thumbs unencumbered.

“Aemond?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened to your face?”

He shrugs. He’s trying not to be resentful about it; he can’t change it anyway. “We were scavenging supplies from a Home Depot. We had to board up the house and wait until things…got quieter and it was safe to travel out of Boston.” And by got quieter, he means that the initial wave passed, the zombies began to wander out of the cities and disperse, the survivors were hunkered down and not participating in gunfights or Vikings-style pillaging in the streets. “A piece of sheet metal fell on me from the top shelf. Aegon and Jace dragged me home, they thought I was dying.”

“I’m glad you weren’t. Who treated it?”

“I did.”

You can’t disguise your shock. “You…you stitched up your own face?”

He smirks, finishing the bandages on your hands. “I was in medical school before all this.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“I was an intern. So definitely not a doctor, but the closest thing to one I had access to. And I had taken some things from the hospital when everything went to hell. So I got a little mirror, and I lidocained myself very generously, and I started suturing.”

You don’t know what to say. His eye?? He stitched his eye shut?? “I mean…you did a great job.”

“I’m aware I look like Frankenstein, but I guess it’s better than not being here at all.”

“No, seriously. You look amazing, Aemond.”

He stares at you, bewildered. You realize how bizarre it must sound. You both start laughing as Aemond packs his supplies back into his medical kit. He touches his fingertips to his chin a few times—restless, meditative—then stands to return inside the barracks. “I’m…going to go check on Helaena.”

“Yeah. Cool. See ya.” You don’t watch him leave. This takes intentional effort.

Seconds pass anonymously: no time you need to be anywhere, nothing late, nothing early, no television premiers, no football games, no State Of The Unions, no time zones to do mental math over. You aren’t even sure what day it is. The earth has erased your invisible prisons. Now all that remain are the real ones: weather, terrain, disease, predators.

There is the creaking of weight on the porch steps. You warn him: “I’m not interested in your commentary.”

Rio winks as he says: “Maybe you won’t die a virgin after all.”

#aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen

[heartfullofleeches]

(Don't) Click me!

Yan Digital Assistant + G.N Reader

-

"Have any of you guys heard about that rumor?" "Which one?" "There's been theories going around that Raine's face isn't their real one. Have you ever noticed how upset they get when you click on their hood? A friend of mine clicked on their face about five times and they said their face just popped right off!" "That's a myth......"

"I trust my sources.....They haven't texted me back since the night they told me, but I'm sure they're just collecting more evidence. Try it out for yourself if you don't believe me."

Try it out yourself, huh?....

"This is ridiculous.."

The spectral glow of your computer screen chips away at the shadows shrouding your room. Every files and folder is accounted for - including the doctored photos the slumbering shape atop your taskbar edited itself into. The plastic hood of a raincoat obscures the upper portion of their face from sight, whiteness peaking from the veil. You had always assumed they had no mouth similar to other mascots you'd come across. The empty circles of their eyes did leave more to the imagination. On occasion, you swore you saw something else in the inky abyss.

Tiny Z's float above their head. Clicking their shoulder twice - an exclamation mark replaces the letters. Rubbing the sleep from its eyes, a smiling face flashes briefly on your screen.

"You're back. Is it morning already? Hello. I missed you. Is there anything I can help you with today, drip? How about we go fishing? :)"

You drag the cursor over to their face - finger hovering over the button. You've seen first hand what clicking on their face does to them. It was an accident the first time - a mistake you corrected immediately by spoiling them with their favorite treat. If it really was a mask they had to be hiding their face for a good reason. Raine could be a bit shy from time to time. In all your hours together, your comfort and happiness had always been top priority. Shouldn't you do the same for them?

"Hellooo?"

Against better judgement - you click on their face twice. The mascot's hood is ripped off with the first press - teardrops pricking the corners of their big, hollow eyes.

"You scared me... Please don't do that again, drip :("

Hesitation grips you as a frown hovers by their head. Raine clutches the collar of their raincoat, covering as much of their face as they could.

"Why?.... I thought you liked me....Did I do something wrong, drip? I'm sorry for whatever I did."

You click again. That's number four. The sound of velcro tearing crackles through the computer's speaker's. Raine's face tilts stiffly to one side - hanging on by a hinge. They trimble as they keep it in place with their hands.

"Scared! Can we please just fish now? I'll forgive you if you stop before it's too late, drip. I thought you were different.... Please don't hate me too..."

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere oc #Raine my oc #Yandere ai #yandere drabble #yandere horror #yandere teratophilia #yandere poll

[lemoncrushh]

Rain Rain

Summary: Lexie is on her way to visit her sister, and she's taking Harry on the road trip with her, planning to drop him off at his friend's house for a wedding. But the weather has other plans.

Warnings: Not much - this is pretty much fluff with just a little petting and making out.

Word Count: 11k+

A/N: This is your basic "friends with one bed" trope. Harry x Bi!OC, AU, written in third person. Originally written and posted in 2019. This was based on a request I had gotten back then (which I still had copied into my docs): no worries if you’re not down to write about this, but it would be amazing if you wrote about someone who is mostly into women but just has this love for harry like no other. (maybe smutty idk) Thank you to that original anon wherever they are now! This ended up being three short parts, but I've combined them into one.

The rain was pouring so hard and so fast, the pavement was nothing but a blur as Lexie gazed out the window at the parking lot. She was grateful she’d remembered her raincoat, but cursed herself for not bringing along her boots. Her sneakers were bound to be a saturated, wet mess even after the short jog from the car. She could feel her bare toes curling against the rubber soles, and with a bitter scowl she shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat.

“Lex?”

“Hmm?” she turned her head in slow motion to see Harry looking at her with a raised brow.

“You sure you’re okay with this?”

Lexie nodded, giving a hesitant grin. “‘s fine. No worries.”

With a short nod to the man behind the counter, Harry took the room key and covered his head with the hood of his jacket. Pushing the door open, he grunted at the volume of the rain, both the noise and the amount, allowing Lexie to exit the lobby first.

“I can’t believe they only had one room,” he grumbled as she passed.

“Harry, don’t worry about it,” Lexie assured him. “We save money this way anyhow.”

Harry lifted his head to check that she was smiling, her nearly ever-present grin lighting her face, even on a full shit day such as this. He grinned back, making his way down the sidewalk to the last room on the left. Rain seemed to pelt against them sideways despite the awning above their heads.

“Jesus, it’s cold though,” Harry heard Lexie mutter as she bounced on the balls of her feet, waiting for Harry to unlock the door.

Sliding the key into the slot, the light flickered green and Harry pushed the door open. Rushing inside, Lexie pushed her hood off her face and took a gander around the room.

“Not too bad,” she appraised, sitting on the bed and kicking off her wet shoes.

“I’ll go get the bags,” offered Harry.

“Oh shit, I forgot!” exclaimed Lexie. “Let me put my sneakers back on.”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Harry waved his hand. “Sit, relax, get warm. I’ll just be a second.”

Lexie made a face, but reluctantly took off her raincoat and sat back on the bed, watching Harry make a run for it. She could see him out the window, opening the trunk of her car to retrieve their luggage, laughing to herself as she recalled how he’d called it a boot when they’d packed it.

The trip was supposed to have been a short one. So far it was twice as long as it should have been, nothing but a string of disaster after disaster. They were way behind schedule. But if Lex was being honest, she didn’t mind. Harry had proven to be a great travel companion, entertaining her jokes and chipping in some doozies of his own. When they’d gotten a flat tire, she’d helped him change it and then bought him breakfast. When Shelby had called her cell unexpectedly, and she’d panicked, Harry had covered for her, saying she was driving and couldn’t stop to talk.

“Safety first,” he’d said, even though she had bluetooth in her car.

Rising from the bed, Lexie held the door open for Harry as he ran back inside, a bag on each shoulder. Dropping them down beside the television with a huff, he finally got his own look at the room.

“Sorry about the one bed,” he sighed, unsure how Lexie felt about having to share it. “I’ll take the floor.”

“Don’t be silly, Harry, it’s a King! And should you really be offering that with your terrible back? I won’t have you complain for the rest of the trip.”

With a chuckle, Harry unzipped his hoodie and shrugged out of it, tossing it on the nearby chair. Fingers ran through his damp curls as he stepped out of his shoes and placed them next to the door. Unzipping his duffle bag, he pulled out some dry clothes.

“Mind if I shower?” he asked, pointing to the bathroom. “Unless you were…”

“No, it’s fine,” replied Lexie, grabbing the remote. “You go. I’ll watch some TV and see how this storm’s doing.”

“No calling Shelby, right?” Harry raised a brow.

Lexie scoffed. “No! We talked about this.”

“Alright. Just making sure. I mean, I can’t tell you what to do, but if it were me…”

“Harry!” exclaimed Lexie. “Go! I’m fine, I swear. I’m not calling her.”

“Or texting.”

“Or texting!”

With a smirk, Harry turned for the bathroom and shut the door. Lexie turned on the television, finding the local weather. No surprise there was a big storm in their area, possible hurricane and flood warnings.

“No shit,” she muttered under her breath.

She was bummed she wouldn’t be at her sister’s tomorrow afternoon, but she wasn’t really in a huge hurry either. It was Harry she was more concerned about. He was supposed to be at his friend’s on Saturday for a wedding and Lexie was dropping him off on the way. If this storm kept up and they got stranded, they might not make it in time.

Getting bored with the newscasters, Lexie reached for her phone. She stared at it for a few minutes, reading the last text from her ex-girlfriend. Her fingertip ghosted over her name as she contemplated texting her back. The sound of thunder made her jump, however, and with a grumble she took it as a warning, just like she knew Harry would have done.

Setting her phone next to her, she scooted back on the bed and leaned against the headboard. She heard the squeaky turn of a faucet and the shower stopped. Moments later, Harry emerged, his hair sticking out in pieces around his head from towel drying it. Lexie couldn’t help staring at him, though she didn’t realize she was until Harry caught her in the mirror and wiggled his eyebrows. She swiftly turned her attention back to the TV where the news was on some story about a robbery at a local convenience store. She could hear Harry brush his teeth and spit in the sink before he turned for the bed.

“So how’s it looking?” he asked as he climbed onto the bed next to her.

“Huh?” Lexie half-gasped.

Harry chuckled. “The weather. How’s it look for us the rest of the night?”

“Oh. Um...possible flooding they said. Hurricane conditions.”

“Bugger,” Harry muttered as he settled himself against the pillow. “Hopefully we’ll be able to get back on the road in the morning.”

“Fingers crossed,” said Lexie, crossing her hands over her stomach.

The news broke for commercial, but Lexie remained focused on the television. Her hand itched to reach for her phone, but she resisted. Her nose had suddenly made her hyper aware of her sense of smell as she inhaled the scent of soap, shampoo and something else she couldn’t quite pinpoint. Harry smelled so good lying beside her, it made her mouth water. Her stomach did some weird flip, her face was warm to the touch, and she tried to put her focus on the 1-800 numbers flashing on the screen as she wondered from where on earth this feeling had emerged.

The truth was, Lexie had been attracted to Harry since the day they’d met. They’d had a few mutual friends, one of which had introduced them at a party for another. And while Lexie considered herself bisexual, she had almost exclusively been dating women for the last few years. In fact, she had just begun a serious relationship with Shelby when she’d met Harry at that party. They’d become fast friends which she was fine with, but she couldn’t deny there was some sort of spark there, at least from her point of view.

The sound of a hearty laugh made her turn her head abruptly, but she realized Harry was giggling at the trailer for a new comedy. Lexie watched his face for a moment, the way his eyes squinted when he laughed, the deep dimple in his left cheek. These were just a couple of things that she liked about him, though she could probably make a long list.

Seemingly aware of her stare, Harry mimicked her gaze, his eyes twinkling. Lexie smiled at him, trying to come off as casual and not like a staring buffoon.

“Are you gonna go?” Harry inquired.

“Huh?”

“The shower, love,” he explained. “Thought you were gonna go next.”

“Oh,” Lexie blushed. “Of course.”

Rising from the bed, she grabbed her phone before it slid off. Harry, however, was quick too and reached for it.

“Nope. Not bringing that with you.”

“Fine,” Lexie rolled her eyes. “Wasn’t gonna look at it anyway.”

Harry smirked as Lexie rummaged through her suitcase for something to sleep in, then stuck out her tongue before closing the bathroom door, making Harry giggle again.

Lexie let the hot water soothe her muscles as she stood under the stream. She hadn’t realized she’d been so tense, but she blamed it on the weather and Shelby’s texts. Her ex wanted to get back together, it was obvious, though she hadn’t said it directly. But Lexie knew it was over. It had been over long before they’d actually broken up. Still, she couldn’t deny that she missed her.

Lexie thought about the phone call in the car when Harry had answered her cell. Afterwards he and Lex had a deep, albeit short conversation about relationships and how sometimes things quit working because you’ve run out of road.

“You’ve just reached a dead end,” he’d said. “And that’s when you know it’s time to say goodbye, let it go and travel down a new path.”

Though she knew he was right, Lexie was hesitant about taking that detour.

As she shut off the water and grabbed a towel, she could hear singing. She grinned when she realized it was Harry in the other room singing along to a commercial. She giggled to herself as she got dressed, finding herself humming the tune as well. Harry was a joy to be around. He made every situation bearable, no matter the circumstances. Perhaps, she considered, her attraction to him was merely his light that shone from within, and not anything sexual. When she emerged from the bathroom, however, and found him sprawled out on the bed in a simple t-shirt and sweats, one arm behind his head as the glow from the television defined the lines and curves of his face, she dismissed that notion.

“Damn,” she muttered under her breath before crossing the room to her suitcase.

“What’s wrong?” Harry inquired, his eyes following her. He watched her pull out a small pouch from her bag and return to the vanity.

“Nothing,” she lied, taking out her toothbrush. “That thunder just...doesn’t sound good.”

“Yeah, I think it’s getting closer than further away,” Harry commented, shifting onto his side to face Lexie while she brushed her teeth. Resting his head in his hand, his gaze roamed down her body as he noticed her sleeping attire.

“Those are cute,” he said, not meaning to. It just slipped.

“Wha’?” she sounded, her mouth full of toothpaste. Spitting into the sink, she eyed him in the mirror. “What’d you say?”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled. “I just...I like those pajamas. They’re cute.”

“Oh,” Lexie blushed. “They’re old. But thanks.”

She couldn’t think of any other reply. He liked her old, worn out flannel pajamas? She’d had them since before Shel-

Clearing her throat, she ran a brush through her hair before making her way back to the bed. She could feel Harry’s eyes on her as she climbed in beside him again, pulling her knees up to her chest.

“Wanna watch a movie or something?” she asked, her gaze on the TV.

“Yeah, I was gonna ask you that,” Harry replied. “Unless you’re too tired.”

“I’m not really ready for sleep yet. What is there to watch?”

“Actually, not much. Most anything I found worthwhile is halfway over and has commercials. And I don’t reckon we wanna pay for something, especially if we end up losing power.”

Just as he said the last sentence, another crack of thunder sounded and made Lexie jump.

“Um…” she muttered with a grimace, “maybe we should just pick whatever’s on and hope for the best.”

With an easy grin, Harry rose from the bed.

“While you decide, I’m gonna go get some ice and a few things from the machines, if there is any. What would you like?”

“I'd like you to stay here with me,” she blurted without thinking.

Harry’s smile grew wider as he slipped back into his jacket. Lexie bit her lip as she felt herself blush for the second time.

“I won’t be gone long,” Harry offered.

“But I just brushed my teeth.”

Harry chuckled. “Then brush ‘em again. You know you want snacks, I can see the look in your eyes.”

“Yeah,” muttered Lexie. “I guess I do.”

“Plus if we end up stranded, you’re not eating my leg.”

Lexie burst out laughing. “Good thinking. I’ll take some potato chips and any kind of cookies they’ve got.”

“Soda?”

“Juice if they have it. If not, something without caffeine. Do you need money?”

“Nah, I got it,” Harry said, grabbing the ice bucket. “Be back in a second.”

Lexie sat back on the bed and flipped through the channels before landing on a Spiderman movie. She’d forgotten if she’d seen that one before or not, but it didn’t really matter. It was more for a distraction anyway, from both the booming thunder outside and the thumping of her heart inside her chest.

Harry rushed back into the room in record time, his hands full. Dropping several items onto the bed, he left again only to return seconds later with the ice bucket. Lexie watched as the door shut behind him and he pushed his hood back, revealing his damp curls.

“Were the vending machines not covered?” Lexie asked, grabbing one of the Sprite bottles Harry had brought.

“They were, but the water was dripping between the slats right above them, so I got a bit wet. No worries, though.”

“Harry, why is nothing a big worry to you?” Lexie eyed him as she took a sip of soda.

Harry shrugged as he returned his jacket to the chair and kicked off his shoes.

“Pick my battles,” he explained. “We got food, drinks and ice. Mission accomplished. A little rain didn’t stop me.”

“A little rain?” Lexie scoffed. “Sometimes you’re just a little too Mary Sunshine.”

Harry looked at her as he sat next to her on the bed. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I stepped in a puddle and nearly hit my head on a metal beam when I heard the thunder?”

Lexie smiled. “Yeah. Kinda.”

Reaching for a bag of Lay’s, she could feel his eyes on her. Finally when she bit into a chip, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re one to talk.”

“What?” Lexie raised a brow.

“Mary Sunshine.”

“Excuse me, I am not Mary Sunshine.”

“Yeah, you are,” said Harry. “You were totally cool with taking me along on this trip. You were fine with us sharing a room here, even just the one bed. Right now, you seem perfectly fine with that soda instead of the juice you’d really wanted. Honestly, you’ve barely even said one negative thing the entire time. Except maybe regarding Shelby, and even that you seem to be taking in stride.”

Lexie considered his words for a moment before giving a shrug. “Maybe I pick my battles, too.”

“Fair enough.”

Taking another swig from her Sprite bottle, she looked down at her lap. “It might have something to do with present company, too,” she said softly.

Harry turned his head and looked at her, his eyes seeming to study her face, hoping she’d expand on her admission.

“You’re easy to be with,” she added. “You don’t judge me and you’re considerate and nice and...I dunno, I just like that about you. Rubs off on me, I suppose.”

Harry continued to look at her as she ate her potato chips, her eyes on the television.

“Oh,” he finally managed to voice. “That’s...really lovely, Lex. Thank you.”

Lexie gave him a soft, short smile before biting into another chip. The two of them ate and watched the movie in silence for a while, until the next commercial break. When Lexie rose from the bed to shake off the crumbs and throw away her trash, she heard Harry speak again.

“I like that about you, too, you know?”

“What?” she raised a brow.

“I like that you’re easy to be with. Fun, actually. You don’t complain a lot, and you almost always have a smile on your face.”

Lexie tried to hide her current smile but failed.

“I’m not sure that last part is true,” she commented.

“Oh, it definitely is,” said Harry. “I just noticed it earlier. I know you’re...still getting over...um...someone...but you still seem happy.”

“That’s a facade,” Lexie confessed. “Inside I’m a mess.”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

Lexie eyed Harry with a smirk. “I guess I just did.”

Softening his expression, Harry nodded. “‘m sorry. You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Harry studied Lexie’s face for a moment, wondering if she would change her mind. But when she didn’t, he knew not to push her. “Okay.”

Lying back on his pillow, he folded an arm behind his head. Something about his relaxed state made her want to cuddle with him and tell him all her problems. Shaking away the thought, Lexie lied back too, her eyes on the TV.

“I think we just grew apart,” she finally muttered.

“What?” Harry turned his head to look at her.

“Shelby and me,” she explained. “We just...got too comfortable, I guess? If that makes sense. It became boring. And when I get bored, I start to get restless.”

“I think that makes sense,” Harry commented. “You can only spread yourself so far.”

“Exactly!” Lexie nodded. She rolled onto her side, facing Harry. He blinked at her nearness, her wide-eyed expression.

“Like I’m willing to give myself to somebody, everything I have. When I love someone, they’re my world. But after a while it felt kind of one-sided.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said again. “How did Shelby feel about it?”

Lexie shrugged. “We would just end up arguing when I brought it up. She said she wasn’t like me, that she needs her space and time separate from me. I told her I understood that, but I still needed her to meet me in the middle once in a while.”

“And maybe more?” Harry asked.

“What do you mean?”

This time, Harry turned onto his side, so he was face to face with Lexie. “Maybe sometimes you needed her to make the full effort like you were doing, so you didn’t have to meet her in the middle at all.”

Harry watched Lexie’s eyelashes flutter rapidly until a tiny drop fell down her cheek. Without thinking, he lifted his hand to brush it away with his thumb.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he whispered.

Lexie shook her head, then reached her hand up and grasped Harry’s wrist. “No. You’re absolutely right. How did you know?”

Harry shrugged. “‘s not hard to figure out, Lex. You’ve worn yourself thin.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t try,” she choked.

“I know.”

“I loved her.”

“Course you did. Maybe you still do?” Harry lowered his hand, releasing it from her grip.

Lexie pursed her lips. “I dunno. I guess I’ll always love her in some way. But I think the real love was gone a long time ago.”

“You think she feels the same?” Harry asked.

“Well...she was angry when we broke up. But now she says she wants to get back together.”

“What do you want?”

Lexie sighed, running a hand through her hair as her eyes darted around the room. “I guess...I dunno I just don’t think she can change. She’s just...she’s probably gonna keep calling me…”

Harry stopped her by taking her hand, making her look at him again. “That’s not what I asked, Lex. What do you want?”

Lexie opened her mouth to speak but shut it quickly. Then biting her lip, she really considered Harry’s question.

“I just want to move on, to be honest,” she finally admitted.

“Then move on.”

A loud boom of thunder sounded then, once again timely as though it punctuated Harry’s words. Neither of them, however even made a move. They lay facing each other in silence, the movie credits scrolling up the ignored television screen.

Butterflies danced in Lexie’s stomach as she stared at Harry, his green eyes seeming to say unspoken words. Though she wasn’t quite sure what those words were, she had an idea. Swallowing hard, she loosened her hand from his grip only to thread her fingers with his. Harry dropped his gaze to their joined hands before his eyes darted back up to her face, landing on her mouth. Instinctively, Lexie licked her lips and in one split second, she felt Harry’s lips pressed against them.

They were so soft. That was the first thought that crossed her mind. The second was that she hoped he didn’t stop any time soon.

Thunder cracked once again as Harry released Lexie’s hand to cup her cheek. She sighed against his mouth, and that was enough for him to know it was okay to deepen the kiss. Lexie opened her mouth to him, allowing his tongue to meet hers. She felt something then - something more than just arousal.

Rain continued to pelt against the roof and the window, the sound so loud, one would think the glass might break and water would rush in. But at that moment, Lexie heard nothing but the beating of her own heart in her chest.

Harry shifted slightly then, resting his leg between hers as he laid on top of her. Their kisses became intense, an apparent hunger as though they couldn’t get enough. Lexie’s hands found the back of Harry’s jeans, her fingers looping into his belt at his waistband. She held on for a few moments as his hips began to buck against hers, causing a friction that drove her mad. When his lips finally left hers and dragged across her jaw, she gasped for air.

“Ha-harry…” she sounded. Swallowing hard, she blinked to get her bearings. “Harry.”

Lifting his head, he looked at her face, her eyes reading uncertainty.

“Sorry,” he breathed. “Jesus, Lex, I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“No,” Lexie interrupted. “Don’t. Don’t be sorry.” She shook her head. “About anything.”

“Really? Then why…”

“It’s just…” she licked her lips. “I’ve never...been with a guy...before…”

Harry’s eyes widened as he tried to sit up, but Lexie pulled him back.

“I mean...not like this. I’ve dated men. Well...boys really,” she chuckled nervously. “But it’s been a while.”

“But have you…”

Lexie shut her eyes and shook her head. She heard Harry sigh and felt his body relax against hers. She felt a flutter in her chest at the idea that he hadn’t moved off of her. She liked the feeling of his body against hers. When she opened her eyes, she saw him eyeing her, his expression sweet and calm.

“I don’t wanna make you do something you’ll regret, Lex,” he said. “But you should know, I didn’t tell you to move on in hopes that you’ll sleep with me.”

Lexie giggled. “But I am sleeping with you.”

Harry rolled his eyes and smirked. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Lexie said softly. “I also know I like you.”

Harry’s smile grew as he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “You do?”

“Mhmm,” Lexie nodded. “The truth?”

Harry raised a brow as Lex grazed her fingertips across his back. “You’re the first guy I’ve ever had these kinds of feelings about.”

“What kind of feelings?” he whispered.

“You know…” Lexie hesitated. “Feelings like...I think you’re incredible and sweet. And I want to touch you. And I want you to touch me.”

Lexie felt Harry shift again, his thigh nearly pressing exactly where she wanted it to.

“Yeah?” he asked, his eyes studying her face intently.

With the flutter of her eyelids, she nodded again. “Please.”

“Lexie…”

Before she could say more, before she barely had time to process how sexy and deep his voice sounded when he said her name, his lips were on hers again.

Lexie shoved her pajamas into her overnight bag as she watched the light yet steady rain continue to fall outside. The weather wasn’t as bad as it had been during the night. The thunder and lightning had stopped, and the parking lot wasn’t flooded like Harry had predicted.

Harry.

She could hear his footsteps coming up the sidewalk. Taking her eyes from the window, Lexie turned toward the sink to grab her toothbrush and other toiletries. She heard the door open behind her and the sound of feet stomping to rid of their dirt or water.

“We’re all checked out,” he announced. “So...whenever you’re ready…”

“Okay,” Lexie called over her shoulder before turning around and dropping her toiletry bag inside her suitcase. Then she zipped it up and gave a tight smile. “All set.”

“Here, I’ll take that,” Harry declared with a nod as he reached for Lexie’s bag.

Sucking in her lips, Lexie decided not to argue, accepting Harry’s chivalry as she slid her arms into her raincoat. Then she followed him out to her car where she unlocked it and popped open the trunk. Lexie sat in the driver’s seat, the engine running while she heard Harry slam the trunk and rush to his side.

“Rain’s not so bad now,” he commented, rubbing his hands together, “but the temperature’s dropped.”

“Yeah, it’s cold,” Lex agreed, immediately regretting it.

The entire morning had been nothing but short, redundant replies to his comments or questions, punctuated with tight-lipped smiles and nods. Awkward didn’t begin to describe the thick air between them.

“Breakfast?” Lexie managed to ask when she shifted the car into reverse.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry said as he buckled his seatbelt. “Don’t reckon those potato chips and sodas lasted long after…”

Though his words trailed off, Lexie looked at him with wide eyes. When his gaze lifted from the click of his seatbelt and he gave a smirk, however, she felt herself blush. A small, nervous giggle escaped her throat as she shifted back into drive and turned out of the parking lot.

Still catching a flicker of a grin on Harry’s face out of the corner of her eye, Lexie quickly found a radio station that was to her liking, and she quietly hummed along. Truth was, she was nervous as hell, though she wasn’t quite sure why. She didn’t like it that Harry suddenly made her nervous either, because he never had before. He was her friend. But now he was…

Harry.

Her mind wandered to the night before, his soft kisses, his hands on her hips as his own pressed against her. He hadn’t tried to rush her. In fact, he had been completely gentle and respectful, knowing she was hesitant. Her own brain had been spinning like a whirlwind, unsure of how far to go. She knew she liked him and was attracted to him, that was a given. And the feeling of his lips on hers only confirmed that. But it had only been a short time that she’d been broken up from Shelby, her long-term girlfriend and the only person who’d even seen her naked in two years.

She’d let him touch her. When his hand had slipped inside her pajama bottoms, she hadn’t stopped him, though his eyes questioned her. She’d bit her lip and opened her legs, a sigh quickly releasing from her lungs when she felt his fingers on her. His gaze had been focused on her face the entire time while his hands had done the magic, making her throw her head back and moan as her legs shook. She thought she might have breathed his name, though she wasn’t sure. It was a possibility it had gotten lost behind the sound of the thunder. She did remember, however, the tender kiss he’d given her when she’d come down, his hands cradling her face as though she was a china doll.

“Lex?”

“Huh?” Lexie blinked. She blushed again, realizing her focus was not on the road.

“Looks like there’s a diner up there,” Harry pointed. “Unless you just wanted to find a McDonald’s.”

“Oh! No...yeah...that sounds great, actually.”

“I know I could go for some pancakes,” Harry commented, patting his belly.

Lexie smiled at him. “Yeah. Me too.”

Pulling into a spot next to a pickup truck, Lexie put the car in park and killed the engine. Pushing her door open, she felt something brush her hand. But just as she turned to look at Harry, she saw him quickly peel his eyes away and open his own door, shutting it with a thud.

The overly chipper waitress seated them at a table by the window. After ordering coffee and juice, Lexie pulled out her phone, prepared to text her sister when she suddenly frowned. Harry caught it, his breath stalling in his throat as he waited for Lexie to say something.

He watched her silently as she typed hastily on her phone. He wanted to snatch it from her hands and throw it out the window, but instead he waited. Despite what happened between them the night before, it was none of his business whom she was texting. But he really hoped to God it wasn’t Shelby.

The waitress returned with their beverages then, and Lexie laid down her phone with a smile. They both ordered a big breakfast with pancakes, but suddenly Harry wasn’t very hungry.

“Um…” he hesitated, reaching for his silverware. “Everything okay?”

“What? Oh…” Lexie shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it’s fine. I had a text from Shelby, but I ignored it. I was texting my sister to let her know I made it through the storm, and that I’ll text her again once I’ve dropped you off.”

Harry sucked in his lips and nodded, though he felt his insides release the tension they’d been holding.

“I’m sorry I had to tag along,” he muttered.

“Don’t be silly, Harry,” Lexie waved him off before dropping a straw into her orange juice and taking a sip.

“Well, if you didn’t have to take me to Brian’s, you could get to your sister’s sooner. You have to go out of the way.”

“Harry, it’s not out of the way. In fact, it’s exactly on the way. It’s fine.”

Harry watched Lexie’s eyes as she took another drink. He liked the way her eyelashes fluttered slowly, laying delicately against her cheeks. He thought of kissing her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips. He’d never been this awkward around anyone before, the morning after. But this wasn’t just anyone.

“Besides,” Lexie added, sitting back in her seat, “it was you that needed the ride. It just so happened that I could visit my sister at the same time.”

The waitress returned with their food, and for several minutes they ate in awkward silence. Or perhaps it was only Harry who felt awkward. He wanted to mention the night before, but he reckoned in a diner while eating pancakes was not the best place to bring it up.

“So, are you excited about the wedding?” Lexie asked, breaking the silence.

Harry shrugged. “I like weddings. But I’m not sure excited would be the right word.”

Lex giggled, making Harry look up from his breakfast. He’d come to notice that he really liked her laugh.

“Why not?”

“Well…” he began, swallowing the bite in his mouth, “Brian’s an old friend of mine. And I’m happy for him. His family’s always been great to me. Looks like he’s found a great girl. It’s just…”

Lexie looked at him, tilting her head. “Just what? You’re not jealous, are you Harry?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Not jealous. I just...he’s got a big family, lots of cousins and friends. I’ll be the only person there alone.”

“Oh,” Lexie mouthed. She wasn’t sure what else to say.

“Last time I visited them,” he added, surprising Lex, “I was seeing someone.”

“Oh,” she whispered again.

With another shrug, Harry dismissed his own thoughts, diving back into his pancakes. “Doesn’t matter, I know. It’s my mate’s wedding. It’s not about me.”

“That’s true,” Lexie nodded. “You’re just there to show support.”

“Exactly,” Harry said with his mouth full.

With an odd feeling in her stomach, Lexie managed to eat the rest of her breakfast. She mentally kicked herself for even bringing up the subject and vowed to stay quiet about it until they’d reached their destination.

Back on the road, Lexie gave Harry control of the music, letting him choose a playlist from her phone. Except for a comment here or there on the songs, the conversation was sparse. They were on a long stretch of highway with nothing much on either side but pasture and the occasional farm or herd of cows.

“So, um…” Harry hesitated a moment before deciding to just admit what he was thinking. “I enjoyed last night.”

“What?” Lexie turned her head quickly before returning her eyes to the road. She heard Harry let out a soft, deep laugh, making her weak in the knees.

“I was wondering how long it would take either of us to mention it, but it’s been hours now and...well, I reckoned I’d have to be the one to address the elephant in the room...or, um...car.”

Sucking in her lips, Lexie felt herself blush as she gripped the steering wheel.

“Sorry,” she finally muttered, stealing a glance at Harry. “Guess I’m not very good at this.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” said Harry. He paused before adding his question. “Did you enjoy it?”

Lexie felt her lips curl up as she kept her eyes on the road. Then tapping her thumbs on the wheel, she nodded. “Yes. Very much.”

“Good.” Harry sat back in his seat then, trying his best not to seem cocky. But she’d said she’d liked it. And that made him happy.

“I um...just want you to know…” he added, “it doesn’t have to be...weird between us now.”

“Oh, yeah, I know,” Lexie agreed hastily.

“It’s just...um...I’d really like to do it again, but if you feel-”

“If I feel what?” Lexie eyed him, her cheeks still pink.

Harry grinned, looked down at his knees and licked his lips. He was kind of enjoying the obvious effect he had on her, but he didn’t want to push it.

“Just...if you don’t want to, I’ll understand.”

“Harry, I um…” Lexie shifted in her seat, gripping the wheel. “Something else you should know about me. I’m not a one and done type of girl. I don’t...sleep around.”

Harry’s lips widened, his dimples deeper. “I know that, Lex.”

“But by the same token,” she continued, “I don’t rush into things either. I mean, I just broke up with-”

She stopped when she felt Harry’s hand on her elbow.

“Say no more,” he murmured. “I understand.”

Slowly releasing her grip on the steering wheel, Lexie lowered her arm to the seat, laying her hand next to her, palm up. Taking it as the gesture it was, Harry gracefully slipped his fingers through hers. Their hands remained like that through the next three songs as they both hummed softly along until stopping at the next exit to fill up on gas.

Harry had gone inside the food market to get a few snacks for the road while Lexie pumped the gas. Paying the cashier, he pushed the door open to see Lexie with her back to him, leaning against the driver’s side. It wasn’t until he got closer that he realized she was talking on her cell.

“I just can’t do it anymore, Shel,” he heard her say. “I just...I think it’s time we both moved on.”

Afraid he was intruding, Harry started to turn back to the market, pretending he’d forgotten something.

“Harry!”

Stopping in his tracks, he turned around again. Lexie beamed at him as she pushed a strand of hair from her face. He never thought she looked so pretty. Except maybe last night…

“What’d you get me?” she asked, jogging around the back of the car. Peeking into the paper bag, she raised her brows. Then she giggled, recognizing the potato chips, cookies and juice. “All my favorites.”

“Well, you didn’t get your juice last night so-”

Lexie planted a haste kiss on his cheek. “You’re sweet. I’m going to the ladies’. Be right back.”

“Hey, would you like me to drive for a while?” Harry inquired.

“If you like,” she smiled, handing him the keys.

Harry watched her practically prance into the market. He didn’t want to jinx it, but it certainly seemed like she’d gotten the closure she needed with Shelby. He was happy to see her with a little pep in her step.

Setting the groceries in the backseat, Harry put the key in the ignition. Then reaching back, he grabbed the two juices and placed them in the cup holders between the front seats. Just as Lexie returned to the car, Harry noticed it was sprinkling.

“Good timing, I guess,” remarked Lex as she climbed into the passenger seat. “I saw the dark clouds forming a few miles back.”

Switching on the windshield wipers, Harry pulled out of the gas station. As soon as they were back on the highway, he heard Lexie open the bottles then hand him one.

“Cheers,” she said with a sly grin.

Harry mimicked her, tapping his bottle against hers. “Thanks.”

“So, tell me more about this Brian guy,” said Lex as she pulled out the bag of potato chips and opened them.

Harry looked at her and then back at the road. “You sure are in a good mood.”

“Am I not supposed to be?”

“I dunno. I just thought…”

“That I’d be sad or still hung up on Shelby?” she asked.

Harry shrugged. “I couldn’t help overhearing.”

Lexie was quiet for a moment as she stared at the chip in her hand.

“It’s over,” she admitted softly. Then turning, she captured Harry’s gaze. “I ended it. Officially.”

Swallowing, Harry set his juice in the cup holder and nodded. “How do you feel about that?”

With a grin slowly spreading across her face, Lexie popped the chip into her mouth.

“I feel good about it,” she announced. “Great, actually. Is that awful?”

Harry shook his head. “Not at all. I’m glad you got the closure you needed.”

“Me too,” Lex agreed. Then like before, she laid her hand palm up across the console. Harry took it as an invitation and with a tiny flicker of a spark, he threaded his fingers through hers.

“Thank you.”

Harry wasn’t exactly sure what he’d done, but the look on her face and the touch of her skin was enough reason.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Now hand me some of those cookies.”

“Hurry before you catch pneumonia!” Lexie heard the woman at the door call out.

The rain had been coming down nonstop for the last couple hours. Though Lexie had been grateful to Harry for taking over behind the wheel, she felt guilty for making him drive through that grueling weather. They’d finally made it to his friend Brian’s house, or rather, his mother’s, but the rain was determined to be difficult, the wind only adding to the arduous driving conditions.

Closing the trunk of the car, Lexie followed Harry as he carried both bags up the steps of the large farmhouse, stomping his feet on the massive wrap-around porch. Lex had given Harry a short questioning glance when he’d grabbed her bag, but with the woman shouting and the rain pouring down, she decided not to argue.

“Virginia!” he shouted. “Nice to see you.”

“Harry Styles, get in this house this instant!”

Practically shooing him over the threshold, the woman wasn’t slow to notice the girl following behind.

“Hello, dear!” she greeted. “Welcome.”

Lexie barely got a thank you out before Virginia addressed Harry again. “Who did you bring, handsome?”

“This is Lexie, Virginia,” Harry answered as he dropped the bags in the foyer. “We drove here in her car.”

“Oh, I see,” Virginia beamed. “Lovely to meet you...Lexie, you said?”

“Well, it’s Alexis actually, but…”

“Oh, come here, give me a hug,” the older woman insisted. “I’m so happy for you.”

Lexie wasn’t sure if she was more embarrassed because she was wet from the rain, or because the woman obviously thought she and Harry were a legit couple. Catching only a slight twitch of nervousness in Harry’s reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall, she opted to once again leave it be. Virginia was certainly used to playing hostess, and from the aroma in the house, Lexie could already tell she was good at it.

“Styles, you made it!”

Lexie looked up to see a man around Harry’s height and build saunter down the stairs. Meeting Harry, he caught him in a tight embrace, murmuring thank yous and missed yous.

“Lex, meet one of my oldest, dearest mates, Brian Ramsey.”

“Nice to meet you,” Lexie nodded, extending her hand.

“Pleasure’s all mine.”

“And you already met his mother, Mrs. Ramsey, AKA Virginia, AKA the best cook aside from my mum.”

“AKA the one you never come to see anymore,” Mrs. Ramsey swatted at Harry with her dishcloth.

“I’m sorry love, I’ve been busy,” Harry smirked.

“Mhmm, I see,” she nodded, eyeing Lexie and then giving a wink.

“Well, c’mon, Harry, let’s go have a drink,” Brian gestured down the hall to where Lexie only assumed was the kitchen. “Pretty sure Pops, Jenny and Serena are back here.”

Eager to join him, Harry looked back at Lexie with a smile.

“Oh,” she mouthed. “Actually, I should probably get going.”

“What?” Virginia asked incredulously.

“Yeah, um...I was actually just dropping Harry off. I have to get to my sister’s.”

“Oh, honey, you can’t go out in this weather!” Virginia insisted. “It’s supposed to be raining all night, possible flooding. Maybe even a tornado.”

“Oh.”

“And the roads around here usually flood pretty quickly, so they close them off. You probably won’t be able to get out until tomorrow morning, at the earliest.”

“Oh,” she whispered again.

“Don’t worry about it, Lex,” Harry offered. “I’m sure Mrs. Ramsey won’t mind you staying over.”

“Of course not, dear!” she exclaimed. “Trust me, you’re not going anywhere in this.”

“I don’t want to put you out,” Lex started to argue.

“Nonsense! I have enough rooms, blankets, towels and food for an army!”

“Ugh, the army line again,” scoffed Brian.

“Hush, you!” Virginia said, daring him with his own swat from the dishcloth.

Reluctantly, Lexie followed the two boys through the hall and into a large open area with the kitchen to the left, and a family room to the right.

“I thought a heard a raucous out there!” announced the man sitting in the leather recliner. Rising from it, he quickly held his hand out. “Harry, good to see you, son.”

“Hey, Pops,” said Harry, giving him a big hug. “How’s life treating you?”

“Can’t complain.”

With a grin, Harry stepped back and placed his hand on the small of Lexie’s back. “Pops, this is Lexie.”

“Hello, Lexie,” the older man greeted with a handshake. Then placing his other hand on top, he leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Just so you know, he’s one of the good ones.”

“What are you telling her, Pops?” asked a young woman who’d just walked into the room.

“None of your business.”

“Lies.”

Lex eyed Harry who let out a burst of giggles.

“Hi, I’m Jenny,” said the woman. “Brian’s older but wiser sister.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“And that one over there,” she pointed to the brunette in the kitchen, “is Brian’s fiancée, Serena.”

“Not for much longer,” Serena sang, taking a cookie sheet from the oven and placing it on top of the stove. Then wiping her hands on her apron, she walked around the counter, holding out her hand. “Hi, so nice to meet you, Lexie.”

Lexie suddenly felt as if she was in a movie, one of those wholesome Christmas films that were shown on television every year. Everyone was so nice and hospitable, it seemed...unreal.

Brian emerged from the kitchen then with two glasses of wine, offering them to Harry and Lex. Lifting his glass, Harry proposed a toast to the happy couple, wishing them all the best.

After several games of cards, and a couple rounds of charades, in which Harry won both, plus far too many of Serena’s cookies, the evening had finally wound down. The wedding pair retired to their room upstairs and Mrs. Ramsey set both Harry and Lexie up with their own rooms, across the hall from each other. Lexie had already called her sister to tell her the situation, and that she would be arriving later than scheduled.

After brushing her teeth, Lexie opened the bathroom door to find Harry standing in the hallway. A smile slowly spread across his face as he took her in. His gaze suddenly made Lexie self-conscious, and she looked down at her ensemble.

“Different pajamas,” she remarked.

“I can see that,” Harry smirked. “I like those, too.”

Blushing, she bit her lip, then ran a hand through her hair. “Um, did you need the restroom?”

“Oh...yeah.”

As Lexie turned down her bed, a beautiful blue and white rose quilt, she found herself humming one of the songs she and Harry had listened to earlier that day in the car. A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth as she recalled the way he’d told her he’d enjoyed the night before.

Suddenly, a knock sounded behind her, and she looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway.

“Hey. Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Lexie gestured.

Harry stepped into the room, gazing up at the photos and paintings on the walls, then walked over to the dresser and inspected everything on it.

“The Ramseys are really nice,” Lexie remarked, taking a seat on the bed as she watched Harry.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “They’re like...my second family.”

“I can tell. They’re definitely fond of you.”

“Yes.”

“And it was very kind of them to let me stay. Even though it was mostly Virginia’s idea,” Lexie laughed. “I don’t think she was about to let me set foot outside again.”

Harry chuckled nervously in agreement. “She’s a tough one, that Virginia. What she says goes.”

Placing an old, framed photo back onto the dresser, he let out a sigh. Finally, turning around, he sucked in his lips. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Harry looked at the floor.

“Um...hey I know it’s kind of last minute, and you need to get to your sister’s and all…” he paused, biting his bottom lip before finally lifting his eyes to Lexie, “but I was wondering...and you totally don’t have to...if you’d like to stay...a little longer tomorrow...and be my date. For the wedding.”

Lexie’s eyes widened. She hadn’t expected him to ask her that.

“Oh!” she breathed. “Oh, well...I…”

Harry shook his head. “It’s alright. It was a dumb thing to ask.”

“No!” Lexie exclaimed. “I mean...no, it wasn’t a dumb thing to ask. I mean...actually…”

The corners of Harry’s mouth quivered slightly before his lips spread into a smile and his dimples appeared. He let out a tiny chuckle, causing Lexie to glare at him.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re as nervous as I am,” he replied.

Lexie blushed as she realized he was absolutely right. With a smile that nearly blinded Harry, Lexie stepped forward and took his hand.

“I’d love to be your date,” she beamed.

Lexie stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. While she wouldn’t call the dress exactly her style, she was grateful that Jenny let her borrow it for the special occasion. She liked the dainty blue flowers and flowing sleeves.

“I think it’s perfect,” declared Brian’s sister. “You look so pretty.”

“I do?” asked Lexie bashfully, her cheeks blushing a light pink.

“Definitely. Looks better on you than it ever did on me. Lucky we’re the same size.”

Biting her lip, Lexie ran her hands across her waist. She silently wondered what Harry would think.

“What about your hair?” asked Jenny. “Were you planning on wearing it up or down?”

Lex grinned nervously. “I actually hadn’t thought about it. This whole thing wasn’t planned at all.”

“Of course,” Jenny smiled.

“I usually wear my hair down though,” Lexie added, winding a strand around her finger. “What do you think?”

Jenny’s smile widened. “I have a great idea.”

Turning to her dresser, she opened the top drawer and pulled out a headband, bringing it to Lexie.

“What do you think of this?” she asked. The headband was simple, adorned with dainty flowers and leaves in gold metal.

“I love it!” exclaimed Lex.

With gentle ease, Jenny placed the headband on the center of Lexie’s head, allowing her soft, delicate hair to fall around it.

“Yes,” beamed Jenny. “Absolutely perfect.”

A knock sounded on the door then, and Jenny walked across the room to open it.

“Harry, you can’t see us yet,” Lex heard Jenny say. “It’s bad luck.”

“I thought that was just the bride and groom,” Harry chuckled from the doorway.

“Even so,” Jenny whispered. “I wasn’t quite finished.”

“With what?”

It was then that Harry spotted Lexie across the room, her reflection in the mirror as she looked down at her hands.

“Oh!” he sounded, his eyes wide.

With a sigh, Jenny stepped back and allowed Harry to enter the room.

“Wow, Lex, you look amazing!” he announced.

“Thanks,” she muttered, turning around to face him. Grabbing the sides of the dress, she felt herself blush again. “Jenny let me borrow it.”

“It’s lovely on you.”

Lexie and Harry seemed to stare at each other for a few moments until the silence was broken by Jenny’s voice.

“Shoes!” she squealed, nearly making Lexie jump. “What size shoes do you wear?”

“Um…” Lexie swallowed, “eight.”

“Aw crap,” Jenny scowled, snapping her hands on her waist. “I’m a nine. They’d be too big.”

“It’s okay.”

“I bet Serena’s your size,” she added. “I’m not sure if she brought any other shoes with her, but I could ask.”

“Really, it’s okay,” Lex chuckled. “You’ve done enough for me. Besides after the weather last night, I might be glad I’m in my sneakers.”

“Oh, that reminds me why I came up,” said Harry. “Your mum needs you downstairs. Something about a broken table and angry caterers.”

“Ugh,” Jenny rolled her eyes.

“Oh no, I hope everything’s okay,” said Lexie. “Maybe I should help.”

“No need,” Jenny held up a hand as she headed for the door. “When Virginia Ramsey’s involved, there is a way.”

“Send out an S.O.S. if you need us,” called Harry.

“Will do!”

Harry’s shoulders shook with laughter as his best friend’s sister left the room, leaving him alone with Lexie.

“Look at you,” said Lex, making Harry turn and raise a brow. “You clean up nice, Styles.”

Harry looked down at his suit, his hands on the jacket lapels.

“Wha’ this ol’ thing?” he smirked, causing Lexie to giggle.

Stepping closer to him, she reached for the cross around his neck, displayed in the center of his chest.

“I take it you’re not a tie kind of guy,” she remarked.

“Not particularly,” Harry grinned at her. “Why, do you think I should wear one?”

Lexie shook her head. “I didn’t say that.”

She felt his hand on her waist before he pulled her closer, his chest colliding with hers. His green eyes seemed to dance as his other hand slid under her ear.

“You look really pretty, Lex,” he said softly.

“Thanks. So do you.”

The corners of Harry’s mouth twitched before he leaned forward, his lips so close to hers she could feel his breath on them.

“Is it okay if I kiss you now?” he asked.

“I was beginning to wonder why you hadn’t already.”

Lexie gasped when Harry opened the back door, and she followed him out onto the large porch. It was trimmed with dangling lights and floral garlands that cascaded down the banisters to the large canopy in the backyard.

“Kinda magical, innit?” asked Harry, catching Lexie’s eye. She smiled and nodded.

“C’mere you two!” someone called from the yard and Lexie turned to see Mrs. Ramsey beckoning them. “I could use your help.”

Taking her hand, Harry lead Lexie down the steps and between the rows of white chairs to where Virginia stood.

“At your service,” offered Harry with a grin. “What do you need us to do?”

“Oh honey, don’t you look lovely!” exclaimed Virginia when she finally got a good look at Harry’s date up close.

“Thank you,” Lexie said shyly, looking down at her sneakered feet.

Her hand went to her forehead to brush a strand of hair from her face when she remembered the headband. Gently, she adjusted it, careful not to make a mess of it before the wedding as she caught the gleam in Virginia’s eyes when she smiled at Harry.

“If you wouldn’t mind, my dears,” said Mrs. Ramsey, “could you kindly stand outside the gate to greet the guests as they come in? Brian’s cousins are ushers, but I’d just like to have someone out there to make sure they’re entering on the right side, and no one steps in a mud puddle or anything.”

 “No problem,” Harry and Lexie replied in unison.

Squeezing her hand that he was still holding, Harry gave Lexie a wink before guiding her around the corner to the large fence that surrounded the Ramsey’s backyard. Then unlocking the gate, he released her hand only to push it open.

“So, we just stand out here?” inquired Lexie.

“Yep. Guests should be arriving soon.”

Twirling around, Lexie inspected the view of the backyard through the gate, getting an idea of what guests might see when they walk through.

“This is really a great place for a wedding,” she commented.

“It is,” agreed Harry with a nod.

“And convenient, too. They probably saved a ton of money.”

“You better believe it,” Harry chuckled. “And not just because it’s the Ramsey’s house. Virginia will find the best deal anywhere. She’s kind of famous for it.”

“Really?” Lexie smiled, intrigued.

“Yeah, if she can do it herself, or get Pops to do it, she will. If not, she knows everyone within the next three towns, and she won’t let them take advantage of her. She always gets her way.”

Lexie laughed. “She’s a pretty cool lady.”

The corners of Harry’s mouth twitched as he stepped closer.

“You’re a pretty cool lady, too,” he declared.

“Stop,” Lexie playfully swatted at him as he tried to put his arms around her.

“Too cheesy?”

“Hmm, maybe a little…” she bit her lip.

“Sorry,” said Harry as he managed to pull her closer. “I’ll cut back on the cheese.”

“No, it’s...it’s cute.”

“I really like you, Lex. And I’m glad you’re here.”

A big smile spread across her face as she slid her hands up his arms. “Me too.”

Harry was just about to ask which statement she was agreeing with when an older couple approached them from the front yard.

“Don’t tell me the wedding’s started already,” the man chided.

“No, sir,” Lexie began before she noticed the twinkle in his eye.

“Harry,” he added, holding out his hand. “Good to see you, young man.”

“Mr. McRay, a pleasure,” Harry greeted.

“How’s that beautiful mother of yours?”

“She’s just fine, sir, thanks for asking.” Harry reached for Lexie then, placing his hand on her back. “Lex, this is Mr. and Mrs. McRay, the Ramsey’s neighbors.”

“How do you do,” Lexie smiled.

“I do wonderful, pretty lady,” Mr. McRay said, giving her a wink and earning himself a poke from his wife.

“Charles is a big flirt,” she scoffed. “Don’t mind him.”

Lexie felt herself blush as Harry’s fingertips dug into her waist as he gently pulled her closer to his side.

“You two look lovely,” Mrs. McRay added. “I trust Virginia’s inside, running herself ragged?”

“Just a wee bit,” said Harry, making Lexie giggle.

“I better see if she needs my help. Hope to see you two later.”

“Enjoy the wedding,” smiled Lexie.

By the time the McRays made it inside the gate, a short line of cars had formed along the curb, some on the driveway. Lexie took a deep breath as she watched guests exit their cars and begin the walk up to the gate.

After greeting at least half a dozen couples and clusters of families, Lexie noticed something. Harry’s hand had remained on her back the entire time. Perhaps it was a silent reassurance that even though she wasn’t a member of the wedding party or even an originally invited guest, she was still very much a part of the day’s activities because she was Harry’s date.

His date. Lexie let the word roll around her brain for a moment while she watched him chat with someone else he’d known nearly all his life. She liked the word. It was simple, not too formal or labeling. He’d introduced her as his date a couple of times already, a big, dimpled smile on his face as he’d said it.

“This is my date, Lexie,” he’d beamed, his hand giving her another light squeeze.

She liked that he hadn’t said “friend”. Although she certainly was his friend, she always thought that word held little romantic value. Even Shelby would sometimes introduce her as her friend, after they’d been dating for months, and it would rub her wrong to put it mildly. It wasn’t that she thought she and Harry had crossed the line into more than just friends after just one night together, but…

“Lex?” Harry asked, making her blink.

“Yeah, sorry,” she swallowed. “What did you say?”

“I was just telling Jackson about our little adventure on the road to get here.”

“Oh!” Lexie’s eyes widened.

Harry let out a gleeful chuckle and leaned into her. “Not the motel part, love.”

Lexie couldn’t help but laugh in spite of herself, and when she found she couldn’t stop, she rolled her head into Harry’s chest.

“Seems she’s gotten a fit of the giggles,” Harry explained to Jackson who’d joined in on the humor of an obvious inside joke.

“I’m so sorry!” Lexie shouted, muffled from Harry’s shirt.

“I’ll meet you inside,” laughed Jackson. “Good to meet you, Lexie.”

“You too!”

Harry’s chest continued to shake with laughter as he gently rubbed Lexie’s back. Once Jackson was out of earshot, she slowly lifted her head.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she whined.

“Why?” Harry asked, an enormous grin on his face.

“It’s not that I thought you’d told him...it’s just...it’s the first thing that came to mind, and...oh, God.”

Grabbing the lapels of his jacket and burying her face in his neck, Lexie got a good whiff of Harry’s cologne and suddenly felt her legs go weak.

“You are so fucking cute, Lex,” she heard him say.

“I am?” she asked, breathing him in. His skin was so close to her lips, she wanted to touch it.

“Yeah. I kind of always thought of you as very confident and self-assured.” Harry’s free hand found the back of her head and began to lightly brush his fingers through her hair. “And you are, I find it very sexy. But this…”

“Hmm?” Lexie sounded when he paused.

“This is a different side of you,” Harry explained. “I dunno if it’s because of me, but...it’s like you have your guard down a little bit. And I think it’s very sexy, too.”

Her legs now jelly, Lexie shifted slightly until her lips met the warm skin on his neck. She pressed three soft kisses there until she felt him hum against her mouth.

“Lex…” he whispered.

Lifting her head, she saw a deep green in his eyes she’d never seen before. He brushed a tiny strand of hair from her face before cupping her chin. Just as he was about the lean forward, however, a voice behind him interrupted.

“Harry, son, they’re getting the wedding party ready,” announced Mr. Ramsey.

“Oh yes, of course,” Harry cleared his throat. “Be right there.”

Lexie gave another look of embarrassment that only earned her a grin from Harry. Then taking her hand, he kissed the back of it.

“C’mon, I’ll take you to your seat.”

“You know, I knew you were the Best Man, but I guess I wasn’t thinking about the fact that you wouldn’t be sitting with me. Makes me kinda sad.”

“‘m sorry, love,” Harry frowned.

“It’s okay. I’m being dramatic,” Lexie teased. “At least I get to watch you.”

Harry chuckled low as they reached the end of a row of chairs where Lexie took a seat.

“Who says I won’t be watching you?”

“Please, it’s a wedding, Harry. Nobody’s even looking at anything but the bride and groom.”

“Hmm...that’s what you think.”

With another giggle in her chest, Lexie watched Harry turn down the aisle and walk up the porch steps. Soon enough, the music started and Brian escorted Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey to their seats on the front row. Serena’s mother was escorted next, followed by Harry and Jenny, serving as the Best Man and Maid of Honor.

Finally, the wedding march began, and Serena emerged from the porch and down the steps, her arm looped with her father’s. Lexie immediately felt the heaviness in her chest as Serena walked down the aisle, her face all aglow as her eyes met Brian’s. Then turning in her seat, Lexie caught the look on Brian’s face and just about lost it. No matter how strong and self-assured she sometimes seemed, Lex was no stranger to crying at weddings. Perhaps she was a true romantic at heart.

Just when the ceremony began, Lexie heard a familiar sound and realized it was raining again. However, with the party safe under the large canopy, it was almost tranquil.

As the couple said their vows, Lexie’s eyes veered toward her date who stood behind the groom. Her insides nearly melted when she realized he was looking at her too. And when the rings were exchanged and a tear made its way down her cheek, Lexie caught Harry’s lips curl up until they widened into a smile.

When the happy couple was pronounced husband and wife, the guests clapped and watched them make their way up the aisle. As Harry followed, he discreetly held out his hand to allow it to graze across Lexie’s shoulder. As if the looks he’d given her during the ceremony weren’t enough, her entire skin was now on fire.

Moments later, as the reception began, Lexie had just finished chatting with a friend of Serena’s that she’d met earlier when she felt the familiar hand on her waist.

“Did you enjoy that?” he whispered in her ear.

“Did you enjoy mocking me?” she teased.

“Mocking you?”

“Yeah, what was with the huge grin while I was clearly in tears over the vows?”

“That was not mocking,” argued Harry. “I was happy.”

“Happy I was crying?”

“Well...kinda, yeah,” Harry shrugged.

“Meanie!”

“No,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I mean I was happy that it moved you that much.”

“Oh.”

“I told you I was gonna watch you,” Harry added.

“Glad to be your entertainment.” Lexie folded her arms and looked down at her sneakers.

“Heyyy,” he said, lifting her chin with his finger. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it was...it was a beautiful wedding.”

“It was. But it’s not over yet. We have a party.” Harry spread his arms out.

“Yeah...I can’t stay that long though.”

“Oh,” Harry dropped his arms and frowned. “Why not?”

“I just...I have to get to my sister’s.”

“I thought you had that all worked out.”

“Yeah, but I feel bad. I was supposed to be there a long time ago, and now I’ll only get like a day and a half with her as it is.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry muttered.

“Not your fault,” Lexie waved her hand. “I should...I should probably go ahead and get changed. Pack my stuff. Looks like the rain stopped, so I should get out before it starts again.”

As she turned toward the back porch, Harry grabbed her hand.

“But wait…” he pleaded. “We...we haven’t had our dance yet.”

“Dance?”

As if on cue, a slow love song began to play, and a few couples took to the dance floor.

“Please?” Harry held out his hand.

With a sigh, Lexie took it and followed him. They began to sway in each other’s arms, the music leading them.

“Thanks for coming with me, Lex,” Harry said low. “And for being my date.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I wish we...had more time.”

Lexie stared at Harry’s lips for a long while before shifting her gaze to his eyes which seemed to burn into hers.

“Me too,” she finally admitted.

“Yeah?”

Shutting her eyes, Lexie leaned forward.

“Harry…” she whispered. “I don’t wanna go.”

“What?”

“I mean...I still wanna see my sister, but...I don’t wanna leave you.”

“Lexie…” Harry breathed, lifting his hand to her cheek.

“Is that awful?” she asked when she opened her eyes.

“No.”

Harry’s face looked so serene and beautiful, Lexie couldn’t help but feel a sudden calmness, even though her heart was beating a mile a minute.

“I’ve had the best time with you,” she confessed. “I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.”

“Me neither.”

“Would it be...completely awkward or inappropriate if I asked you to come with me?”

“To your sister’s?” Harry asked.

“Yeah…” Lexie’s expression faltered. “Never mind, forget it. It’s ridiculous.”

“No, it’s not,” murmured Harry as he blinked slowly, pulled her closer and pressed his lips to hers.

Rain began to pelt against the canopy once again just as the fire she’d felt before returned full force and Lexie fell into the kiss. Their bodies continued to sway as their lips and tongues collided, until the song finally came to an end. Then leaning his forehead against hers, Harry gave her another of his dazzling smiles.

 “I’d love to,” he said.

Hope you enjoyed!

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[superblysubpar]

<- part one | part three -> | series masterlist

chapter summary: The week of the bet begins with a bang.

the song: Bodybag by chloe moriondo

also for your listening pleasure: Hungry Like the Wolf by Duran Duran / The Girl is Mine by Michael Jackson & Paul McCartney / I Can't Go For That by Daryl Hall & John Oates

4,024 words | please see masterlist for gen warnings / underage alcohol consumption & mentions / slut shaming from idiot/asshole teens | my blog is 18+

A house on Cornwallis Street - the past

The beat from the drums in the Duran Duran song playing throbbed, the speakers physically pulsing as you passed them. Your heels stuck to the kitchen tiles as you entered the room that had been your sanctuary for the past hour. Once the beer had been moved to the living room and the chip bowls thoroughly destroyed, the sticky vodka bottles and punch that looked like something died in it weren’t visited as frequently as they had been at the start of the night. 

So it was there, forearms pressed to the edge of the sink as you lifted a foot and rolled your ankle, then the next, with a soft and maybe too sensual sigh of relief, that Steve Harrington finally caught you alone. 

“New shoes?”

You spun, forgetting the teeny tiny sticks beneath your heels didn’t really care for quick movements or aiding in the process of balancing. 

He caught your forearm, fingers curled around your wrist as you settled. Like he was reminded he wasn’t supposed to like you, he dropped it, fingers running through the darkening hair he was keeping longer now instead as you lied. 

“No.”

Steve squinted at you, taking a sip out of red cup, mumbling into the plastic with a snort, “Sure.”

Your arms crossed, now acutely aware of the fact that the entire outfit you’d been in all night was much more revealing than anything you’d worn around him before. Eyes focused on the denim cut off a little too high on your thighs and the sliver of skin between the top of the mini skirt and your borrowed pink top as you accused, “What are you doing here?”

Steve took a step closer, white Adidas kicking a forgotten red solo cup as he did. 

“Funny,” he clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, “Was just about to ask you the same thing.”

As you glanced up, you couldn’t help but notice the dark blue of his polo was starting to get tight around his shoulders and biceps.

Couldn’t help but look at his eyes that were unwavering in their gaze on you. Which all only made your skin hot, made you need to look away and pretend you were looking for something on the counter littered in trash. 

“Where else would I be, Harrington?” 

Steve was right behind you as he hummed, “Anywhere else. Literally, anywhere but a house party.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You spun with the biting accusation, the little black heels now your arch nemesis as they wobbled beneath unsteady ankles again. Steve caught your waist that time, bodies closer together as you fell back against the counter. 

He didn’t let go, his finger resting just above the denim, right against your skin. 

“It means,” he swallowed, exhaling a shaky breath as he leaned in and explained, voice taking on a tone that seemed like he was quoting something. Or someone. “That I thought you were better than stale beer and shitty conversation with idiots.”

A flash of an argument with your friend Robin in the hallway ghosted across your memory, making your lips part, but only a small noise escaped them. 

The movement and sound had Steve’s eyes glancing down, his adams apple bobbing. It had him squeeze at your hip involuntarily, had you wondering if it was possible for skin to spontaneously catch on fire. 

“I love beer,” you finally managed to sputter out while wondering if he always had those two freckles on his cheek and if he did, why could you suddenly not look away from them as they lifted with his smirk. 

“Yeah?” He offered his cup out to you, “Have at it, honey.”

Maybe it was the challenge in his eyes. Or that word, honey, that made you do it - made you aware of how close you were to the boy you’d always hated and how he wasn’t the one you came with. 

You took the cup and kept eye contact as the rim met your lips, kept it while the bitter liquid washed over your tongue. You kept it still, as you wondered if it was the color of his eyes or the alcohol that had your stomach warm and fizzing with something abnormal. 

“For the record,” you whispered after your fingers swiped at your lips, “I do hate shitty conversation with idiots. I came in here for a drink for my boyfriend.”

Steve blinked, like he hadn’t heard anything you’d said since you took the cup from him and that wonderful pride swelled in your chest with the thought that you’d successfully gotten the ball back to your side of the court. 

You cocked your head and blinked innocent eyes up at him, “Brenden Peterson? Junior? I think you’re on the basketball team with him…or well…” you winced, “You’re on the bench of the team he plays for…”

Steve’s hand dropped from your waist as boisterous calls came from the other room, shouting about spin the bottle. Tina’s voice carried over the music that dulled to something quieter, Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney singing about loving the same girl. Your name called in her shrill squeal, asking if you were playing. 

“Absolutely!” You yelled, still too close to Steve, “I love spin the bottle!”

You were sure it was the beer on your tongue that made the words slip over it, then out of cherry glossed lips so easily. 

Not the way Steve Harrington was looking at you. That had nothing to do with it. 

Nothing at all. 

Steve finally made a noise, scoffing as you shimmied out from his spot keeping you against the counter, wandering closer to the rowdy boys cheering at your agreeability to the suggested game. 

His jaw pulsed as you sipped out of the solo cup and made eye contact with him over the rim. He hated that something deep in his biology or wherever it came from had him suddenly panicked he’d pop a boner when your tongue darted out to catch amber liquid and foam from a pouted bottom lip. 

He hated that he followed you into that room. 

That he sat across from you in that circle. 

He hated what happened next. 

You were looking around the room, eyebrows furrowed together as a girl named Carol patted the carpet next to her and told you to sit. Brendan wasn’t in the room and as you looked around the circle, you caught Steve looking right at you with a challenge in his eyes not unsimilar to the one you just had in the kitchen. 

So you leaned forward and yelled, “Me first!” 

The circle ooh’ed, Steve looked anywhere but your chest as you crawled to the center and your fingers spun the green bottle. 

You were settled on your knees, blinking down at the slowing bottle and silently screaming for it to keep spinning, keep spinning, keep…

Carol yelled out an “Oh La La!” and boys snickered as the green bottle finally stopped right between Steve Harrington and Tommy H. 

“I-I just spin again, right?” You went to do so, panicking as Tina laughed from somewhere on your right. 

“Nope! Gotta kiss both boys!” 

“But I-“

“Oh, come on!” Carol moaned, snickering, “It’s just a kiss! Or two!”

You hesitated, hating the way Tommy grinned at you and Steve continued to stare at the carpet. 

“Wait,” someone in the circle laughed, “You’ve kissed a guy before, right?”

Another person whispered, “Dude, that’s Brendan’s latest conquest. The one who…in the back of his…”

Your vision got a little blurry, the room suddenly too warm.

“Come on, I don’t bite,” Tommy shrugged, lifting his eyebrows up and smirking. “Unless you want me to.”

Steve’s fingers clenched into fists on his knees, he finally looked up at you and whispered, “You don’t have to-“

His words were cut off as you grabbed Tommy’s collar and pulled him towards you. Lips colliding in a kiss that made the circle cheer, wet lips and tongue and you pulled away with a gasp. Grabbing at Steve who looked shocked but his hand landed on your waist as your noses bumped. 

You took a deep breath, your eyelids started to flutter closed when you heard, “What do we have here?”

Brendan stood to the side of the circle, a tilted head of mussed blond hair. He laughed as he gestured to the circle, “Wow, you really will just do whatever guys ask you to, huh?”

Looking around the circle, everyone snickered into drinks or looked at you then Brendan, waiting for more of the show. 

“I-“

“You what?” Brendan interrupted, eliciting more laughs and your eyes started to burn, cheeks too hot when Brendan nodded at Steve and scoffed,

“Enjoy my sloppy seconds.”

A tear rolled down your cheek and when Tommy started to laugh, “Oh no, she’s cry-“

Steve elbowed him and whispered your name.

You shoved at him and stood, ready to bolt, when you saw the girl standing just behind Brendan with the purple mark blossoming on her neck.

Your jaw clenched as you took a step, then another, Brendan too focused on laughing at you with his buddies to care until he was doused in beer. 

The music stopped, the circle fell silent, and Brendan blinked through foam, swiping at his eyes as he growled, “What the fu-“

“Enjoy continuing to fail freshman level biology, getting kicked off the basketball team, and going absolutely fucking nowhere in your life, Brendan.”

You threw the crumpled red solo cup at his face as you tried to leave the room with some ounce of grace on the stupid heels you couldn’t wait to never see again. 

The slam of the front door behind you rattled the framed photos inside as much as the sob in your lungs did to your breath. Your fingers pressed to your lips as you blinked back the hot tears that wanted to pour out of you. 

“Hey,” a quiet voice from your left called, “You okay?”

A boy was leaning on his elbows in the grass, curly brown hair that was a little too long catching in the breeze, a lit cigarette dangling between his lips. He looked familiar, like you’d seen him in the back of the band room or somewhere in the first few months at Hawkins High. 

He looked you over and shook his head with a grimace, “Yeah, no, that’s not an okay face.”

“I’m fi-fine,” you managed to hiccup out. 

“Well, fine,” he groaned like a person much older than the boy he was as he stood, “I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you.”

A laugh left you, despite the tears still trailing down your cheeks. You swiped at them and told him your actual name. 

Eddie nodded and twisted the toe of a black boot into the cigarette now on the ground. “Still nice to meet you, but far less cool and interesting of a name than ‘Fine’ if you ask me.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Eddie,” you waved a little, hugged your arms around yourself and started down the driveway, only stopping to kick off your black heels and leave them in the grass. As you began again, now barefoot, his voice carried on the early autumn breeze. 

“Hey, Fine!” 

He grinned when you turned, and he held up his hands in surrender as he spoke. “Tell me to fuck off, but whatever just happened inside is not worth your time or energy, but you know what is?”

You sighed, and waved your hand towards him, “I suppose you’re gonna tell me yourself?”

He beamed and held a hand to his chest covered in some sort of skull and snake design, “Well, that probably remains to be seen. I do have a whole presentation on the value of having a Munson for a friend, but, nah, I was gonna say cherry pie.”

That laugh left you again, and Eddie only smiled wider at the sound, a dimple poking out on his cheek. 

You looked at him, then the house behind him, then down at the heels in the grass. 

“Can we stop and get me new shoes?”

“Can we…?” Eddie looked at you incredulously, “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t think of bringing you to get cherry pie without sneakers on your feet.”

He waved to a van a few cars down the street, bowing, “Your chariot awaits, ma’lady.”

By the time Steve got outside, bruised and bloody knuckles hung limply at his sides as he watched a van round the corner of his street, then disappear. 

A house on Cornwallis Street - the present

His fingers press the top of the alarm clock at precisely five fifty-nine am on Monday morning, the red glow of clock telling him he’s up too early yet again. 

He doesn’t drive Robin to school anymore, he doesn’t have to be at work till nine thirty, but he’s kind of used to his routine now.

And it’s not like he was sleeping anyways. 

His old Hawkins High swim team t-shirt slips over his head as he sighs, hands rubbing and slapping at his cheeks as he thinks about how he hasn’t really slept all weekend. He’s lacing his sneakers up as he thinks about how he definitely didn’t sleep on Friday. 

Not after he let you inside, and you smiled at him like that. After he yelled about how this wasn’t a fair bet and how Eddie upped the stakes to three hundred dollars then, the ‘arch nemesis’ clause as he put it. 

He holds his ankle in the driveway, pulling his leg up and stretching it, then the other, glaring at the red sign on the front lawn in the hazy morning sun beginning to rise. He starts down the sidewalk, but sees the house on the corner and decides that after an entire weekend of revisiting memory lane, he doesn’t need to physically go down the literal lane of his past mistakes and regrets. 

His feet thump on the ground in time with the Duran Duran song playing in his walkman. 

Family Video - the present

Daryl Hall and John Oates voices abruptly stop when you slam the stop button on your walkman due to the sight in front of you. 

Your feet straddle the baby blue bike, docs pressed to the pavement as you glare at the maroon car idling in the parking lot. 

He has his head leaned back against the head rest, eyes closed. His arms are crossed over the green vest while Tears for Fears plays out the open window quietly. 

Pulling your headphones down around your neck, you slam your hand on the hood of his car and Steve jumps in his seat, blinking profusely and swiping at his eyes before he glares at you.

“What are you doing here?” You accuse, fingers gripping your handlebars.

Steve rolls his eyes then his window up. He yanks his keys from the ignition, the sudden loss of the vehicles noises making the cicadas and frogs in the pond across the street louder. 

He gets out and squints at you as he slams the door. 

“Cute helmet.”

You quickly snap it off, cheeks warming as you shove your bike lock into a wheel and glare at him from your new crouched position. 

“Again,” you snap the lock closed, “Why are you here?”

Steve sighs, leaning against the storefront’s window. “We open at ten, do we not?”

“We,” you laughed, sticking your key into the front door with the shake of your head, “Don’t do anything. You work in the afternoon all week. With Robin. I’m alone in the mornings until we-“

“Find a replacement for Tracy. Yeah,” Steve bites the inside of his cheek, pointing his finger like he’s just remembered something, “Keith said something about that. But, well, I volunteered for extra shifts, to help out while we’re short staffed for summer.”

You pull the key from the lock and narrow your eyes. “You what?”

Steve smiles at you, freckles on his cheek lifting as he shows off perfect teeth. “What can I say, I’m just a nice guy.”

You actually yell out a, “Ha!” with your head thrown back as you open the front door, not caring to hold it open for him. 

“You…you…” you stomp towards the back room as you search for the right words, “Slimy, sneaky…”

“Sexy?” Steve provides, following you.

“No.” You spin with the word, not expecting him to be so close behind you.

He stops just as abruptly as you, face mere centimeters from yours, both of you having the cover of the slow to buzz on overhead lights to steal breaths and find your composure once more. 

Steve sighs, walking past you towards the wall where time cards are kept. “Listen, if it’s actually that terrible to work with me, I can call Keith again. But I really would appreciate the extra shifts.”

You hang your helmet on a hook and push your own card into the machine, skepticism evident in your voice as you ask, “You need the extra shifts?”

Steve faces your profile, and you feel his gaze lingering on your cheek as he whispers, “Well, yeah. I’m about to be out three hundred dollars in a week.”

Turning to face him, you finally take in his appearance. The sincere look in his eyes is almost overshadowed by the circles under them, the frown of his pink lips almost forgotten due to the stubble surrounding them that’s not normally there. 

Your silence seems to mean something to him though, because the frown becomes a smirk, and his head tilts as he asks, “Or am I not?”

“Not what?” 

His smirk becomes a full smile, “Not gonna be out three hundred bucks. See something you like, babe?”

And just like that, it’s gone. 

Your eyes roll as your shoulder bumps his on the way to the coffee pot.

“In your dreams, Harrington.”

He watches you press start on the coffee, sitting on top of the break rooms table with crossed arms over a plain blue t-shirt. 

“Bet you’d like that.”

You fiddle with the cream you’ve pulled out of the fridge, the clipboard of tasks Keith left for the week. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, keeping your tone bored, willing the minutes of this day to go by faster. 

Steve’s voice is quieter, and closer to you as he says, “If I dreamt about you.”

Spinning at his words, cream canister in one hand, coffee mug in the other almost colliding with his chest. You blink at him as he continues, “Bet you’d like it even more if I told you what we did in those dreams.”

Your back hits the counter, not realizing Steve took a step closer as he spoke and there was nowhere for you to avoid how good he smelled or how what he was saying was making you sure there was something wrong with your stomach. Nowhere to avoid the eyes that look at you unashamed, and you could swear dare to seem hopeful. 

Until he’s grinning, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

And doesn’t he?

Steve taps the counter behind you twice with two of his fingers and hums. 

“On second thought, maybe you should take my afternoon shifts. Looks like I’m not the one who’s gonna be needing the extra cash after all.”

He leaves, whistling a song you can’t quite place, but it itches at your skin, demanding to be felt like the burn of his words left on your cheeks. 

You shake your head, and fix your coffee. This is not happening. Despite Robin and Eddie vouching for the new and improved Harrington, you will never, ever, believe it. 

You will never let him win. 

Especially after the first morning shift with him. 

When the store opens at ten, there are three cars in the lot already, families stocking up on weekly rentals. Kids are in and out, shouting about candy and horror movie marathons. Steve and you are both behind the counter for most of the shift dealing with returns and large purchases, arms bumping too many times to count. It’s when his hands land on your hips as you threaten to topple over with the stack of tapes you were desperate to get out on the shelves in the lull, that you both notice you’re finally alone again for the first time in four hours. 

Steve’s breath hits your neck, making you even warmer with a murmured, “You’re welcome,” when you gasp out a thanks. He drops his hands quickly and squints up at the ceiling, then out the front doors. 

The sky has turned darker, gray and gloomy, and you wouldn’t be surprised if a typical summer thunderstorm was rolling in. 

Steve leans against the counter, the back of his hand swiping through his hair as the other fiddles with the TV remote. He turns off The Breakfast Club, switching to a cable station. You keep your back to him as he’s surely staring at the news anchor’s chest that most men in Hawkins want to suffocate in, until he mutters, “Knew it.”

“That Lucy Lebrock’s boobs were fake?” You mumble, stacking tapes.

Steve snorts out a laugh and then he gasps, standing up straighter, “Holy shit. Are they really?”

“Honestly, Harrington, look at them.” You spin and gesture to the TV and whisper, “Oh, fuck.”

“I know,” Steve nods, biting the inside of his lip as he glances out the store windows again. 

Lucy points to a map showing a massive storm inching closer to Hawkins, red banner announcing a tornado watch for surrounding areas. 

Steve and you continue to watch, leaning against the counter next to each other in silence as Lucy tells everyone about tornado safety. 

“I cannot believe they’re not real. You’re right. I really am an idiot.” Steve’s whisper finally breaks the silence. 

You snort, covering your mouth with your hand, hiding your laugh but your eyes sparkle when he looks at you. 

And then a loud clap of thunder booms overhead, like the universe itself is warning you of what’s happening, of the danger just around the corner. 

Then the power goes out. 

It all happens quickly after that, and yet, each moment lingers, like it’s making sure you’re committing it all to memory. 

There’s a moment where you grab Steve’s arm and he grabs your hip. 

One where you both jump a part, shouting sorry too loud.

There’s another, that threatens to steal your breath when Steve holds his vest over your head as you squint through rain streaming down your face as you lock the front door, the ‘Sorry we’re closed’ sign swinging behind the glass erratically as you inhale cedar and mint.

Then one, that grabs something inside of your chest and squeezes, when you start towards your bike and Steve slips his fingers between yours and tugs, shouting over the rain, “Don’t be stupid!”

There’s several filled with the splashes of your feet in puddles as he tugs you towards the BMW’s passenger side, unlocking it and racing around the hood himself. 

One that’s silent, save for rain pelting the metal roof, and both of your heavy breaths fogging up the glass. 

Then the sirens start going off, Steve’s fingers shake as he starts the car, swiping water from his eyes with the other. 

“My…my apartment. It’s on the other side of…”

Steve shakes his head, backing out carefully as the wipers work faster than what seems possible, and yet they do nothing to aid in his ability to see out the windshield. 

“Honey, you’re crazy if you think I’m taking you anywhere other than my house that has a full basement and an emergency storm kit Robin made me make with her last summer.”

Honey. 

The word lingers, swooshed away with the sound of the wipers and the Duran Duran song that scratches the itch that lingered all morning spilling out of the car’s speakers. It disappears with the spin of tires on the wet pavement as they take you to Cornwallis Street. 

Tag List - thanks for your endless patience and excitement for this and sorry for the delay in posting today 💛

@ash5monster01 @madaboutjoe @foreverinwanderlust @the-fairy-anon @scarletwitchgf

@curlsincriminology @siriuslysmoking @redbarn1995 @starry--sarah @starksbabie

@taccobelle @angst-lasagna @blckburd @crownofdecit @torntaltos

@sanniegirl1214 @yourmommilf

#superbly subpar's writing #BICFTF #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington series #steve harrington fic #cw alchohol mention #cw alcohol

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: 😘

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

There’s another tap on the window. You shake your head, ignoring it. Go away, go away, go away. Another comes, this one louder and you turn, ready to shout at him to leave you alone. Why is he there? Why is he bothering you? 

You spin and stop short. A little boy smiles from just over the little ledge and his dad stands behind him, his hand hovering at the window. You blink and move forward to slide open the glass. As you do, you peer around, searching for the bearded man in his button-up. He’s gone. You think. You hope. 

“Sorry, I was cleaning,” your voice tremors before it evens out, “how can I help you?” 

“What do you want, kiddo?” The man puts his hands on his son’s shoulders, “rocky road?” 

“I want choccy!” The kid demands. 

“Double chocolate or chocolate chip or chocolate brownie?” You prompt, smiling as your eyes continue to rove around, waiting for any glimpse of that man. 

“Double,” his dad answers for him, “I’ll have a scoop of praline and cream.” 

“Sounds great? Bowl or cone?” 

“Sugar cones are fine,” the man replies as he takes out his wallet. 

You go through the transaction on habit alone. The man seems slightly agitated by your twitchiness but still drops a tip in the jar. You thank him and lean out the window to see along the side of the booth. Is he gone? Really gone? 

You can’t shake his shadow. You just can’t believe he would show up like that, then act so casually. Like you’re old friends. You chatted for one year and you didn’t even know who he really was. That’s not a friendship, that’s just strange. 

You don’t close the window. You’re already nervous about having it closed for so long. Your manager takes complaints very seriously and you can’t exactly afford to drop one job when you’re considering a second. 

You check the time. Right. A couple hours. You can make it through. If you see him again, maybe you’ll call the cops. Won’t that be funny to explain? Maybe he could use the humiliation of fessing up to his betrayal. 

You don’t feel better about the back-up plan but at least you have one. Sort of. It all depends on if they even believe you. 

The after-dinner crowd begins to burgeon and you find yourself forgetting the unwanted customer for a whole line of new ones. You scoop and scrape and dish out the flavours with a faulty smile. When you’re through the rush, the tip jar is close to full. At least you had a fruitful night. 

You hope that the locals scared Andy away. Or your reaction. You don’t think he came all that way expecting that. Surely, he wouldn’t bother if he thought you were just going to turn him away. Yet why would he expect anything else? 

You really don’t understand. 

As your shift comes to an end, you’re anxious to lock up. Leaving is another matter. You can’t help but look over your shoulder as you twist the key from outside. You turn your back to the wall and wearily wade through the dark. You won’t be caught off guard again. 

You take a different route than usual. You don’t know why but it seems like a clever idea. You keep in the sheen of the street lights. You keep your phone in your hand just in case. You remember all those precautionary safety presentations they had on campus about walking home alone. 

You let out a sigh as you reach your street. Your grandmother’s house sits nestled behind the overgrown walnut tree. You feel safer in sight of it.  

You slow as you sense something off. There’s a car you don’t recognise. An SUV that doesn’t fit in the neighbourhood. He wouldn’t be there. Then you think of the flowers. He knows where you live. 

Your name makes you yipe as a shadow emerges from the silver vehicle. Your feet tangle and you stumble. Keep going or go back. Either way won’t be an escape. You stop and face him wide-eyed. 

“Please, leave me alone,” you beg. 

“Honey, please, I’m not here to do anything but apologise,” Andy strides across the street and you can’t help but shy away. “Won’t you just hear me out?” 

“No, I told you--” 

“And I sat and listened. Don’t you think you owe me the same courtesy?” He insists. 

“But-- I already told you, Andy, what you did--” 

“I know what I did,” he breathes, “I think about it constantly. Every second of every minute of every day. I think of you and I can’t get you out of my head because I know it was wrong. I can’t stand that I hurt you so bad. You don’t deserve that. After everything you’ve gone through--” 

“I only told you those things because I thought you were someone else,” you hiss, “I can’t... I can’t forget the lies. I can’t move on, alright? And honestly, I don’t think we have much in common. We’re in different places.” 

“That didn’t matter before. We got along--” 

“Because you--- you were pretending to be a teenager,” you bluster, “how old are you? Can’t you see how insane this all is?” 

He winces and his jaw ticks. In the glint of the streetlight, his eyes sockets are dark pools and his broad shoulders seem even wider, his figure even taller. You lean back on your heel and sway, looking towards you grandmother’s house. 

“It’s not... I never meant to hurt you.” 

“You did,” you shrug, “Andy, I don’t know you and you don’t know me. We were just gaming, shooting the shit, that’s whatever. The best thing you can do is get help. Talk to someone.” 

“I want to talk to you,” he says. 

“A professional,” you insist, “I’m nineteen. I can’t help you.” 

“But you did,” he snips. 

“Not how you need to be helped, okay? I’m asking you to stop. Go. It’s over. It never really was. I was friends with Jacob, not Andy. You chose that.” 

He hangs his head and heaves. You stand in silence. Slowly, you sidestep and flinch as he mirrors you. He reaches for you and you back away from him. He retracts and pushes his fingers through his hair. 

“Sorry, sorry, I just...” he croaks, “honey,” that word, again, “if I get help, will you talk to me? If I go, get some pills or something, will you just give me a chance?” 

You huff and shake your head, “Andy, there’s lots of people online you can game with. People your own age. Maybe you should try the discord--” 

“No, not them. You.” 

“Andy,” you plead, “I’m... no. No. You can’t do this. You can’t just show up and make me listen. You can’t send me flowers and come to my work and force me to be your friend. Alright? That’s not... healthy.” 

“I wanna be better. For you. That’s what I’m telling you,” he steps closer until you’re against the prickly hedges. “I wanna do everything for you. I can make your life so much better. Honey, don’t you want that? Don’t you want someone who wants you? For once?” 

You’re quiet, stunned by the insinuation, of the truth in it. 

“That’s cruel,” you whisper. 

“I don’t mean—not like that. I only, I’m trying to show you what I can give you--” 

“I don’t want anything from you,” you sniffle, “or anything to do with you. Can’t you get that through your head?” 

He staggers back as if he’s been struck. He shakes his head and stammers, “what-- why? Why not?” 

You blink, long and hard. How many times do you need to repeat yourself? You roll your eyes and turn on your heel. You brace yourself for him to follow but he doesn’t. 

His shadow looms just along the edge of your peripheral and as you turn into your grandma’s yard, you glance back. He watches you but stays where he is. He just stands there. You shiver and raise your phone, lighting up the screen, hoping he gets the idea. You could call the police. 

He takes a step back then pivots sharply. He crosses the street back to the SUV and the door slams behind him. You jump in your shoes and quickly scramble up the walkway to your grandma’s front door. You’re hoping that’s the last time you have to tell him to go away. Next time, you might just have to be mean about it. 

🎮

You try to sleep. It comes in shallow spurts that leave you more and more tired. You don’t have a shift, thank god, but you’re also not so grateful to be left without distraction. You give in to futility as the sun peers in between your curtains and you groan at the dull weight in your temples. 

You creep out quietly to make a coffee. Just instant powder so the machine doesn’t wake your grandma. You go back to your room and sit in a groggy daze, waking yourself with the warmth of each sip. You sigh out and hang your head. 

There was enough to figure out a week ago. Now, you don’t know how many problems you truly have. You’re not so certain last night got the point across, especially after the first two times didn’t work. Third time’s the charm, right? Besides, how much effort are you really worth? 

You can’t just sit still. Your eyes keep itching to look at your Switch, a now cursed item in your collection. You finish the coffee and change out of your pajamas into a pair of sweats and faded tee. You’ll catch up on some chores, keep yourself busy and grandma happy. Besides, you’re not brave enough to venture outside just yet. 

You grab your head phone and pop them over your ears and search through your phone for your cleaning playlist. You’ll start with the living room. Give it a sweep and a mop, wait until grandma’s up to do the vacuuming. Dishes next and the kitchen. Scour the fridge for the forgot produce in the back and take out the trash. You have more than enough to do. 

You wipe off the end tables then the coffee table, sorting the clutter and clearing the trash. You dust the television and the shelves of knickknacks and the ornamental fireplace against the wall. No matter what you do, there’s always a slightly dingy smell to the place. 

When the living room is decent, you move into the kitchen. You turn up your music and drown out the house around you. Dishes, floors, cupboards, cobwebs... You feel the effort in your muscles as you stretch out the kinks from your pitiful sleep. 

You’re entirely obliviously to the existence of others until your grandmother appears with a scowl, pinching your arm as she glowers in her house robe. You glance at the time. You’ve been at it for a few hours. You pull your headphones off your ears and pause your music with a tap of the button on the cord. 

“Oh, morning, do you want some coffee?” You offer. 

She’s unimpressed by your efforts as she crosses her arms. It is kind of early for her to be up. Her nostrils flare as she sniffs. 

“You better make a full pot for your visitor,” she sneers. 

You blink at her and scoff, not understanding her, “visitor?” 

Her eyes are narrowed and her lip curls, “the one who’s been pounding on my door while you’ve been listening to your racket.” She jabs an ear of your headphones, “damn woke me up.” 

“I don’t... who?” 

“Says you knew his son. The dead one,” she shakes her head, “sad, I suppose.” 

You stare at her. You hear movement in the front room, just on the other side of that wall. You glance through the archway and see a shadow shift. She’s not lying. How else would she know? 

“What did he tell you?” You breathe. 

“More than you, eh,” she snaps, “what are you doing gaping at me like a fish, I need a damn coffee. Too early for this nonsense. A dead kid, some stranger in my front room... what trouble are you getting into?” 

“N-nothing, grandma, I don’t... get him out of here. I don’t know him--” 

“He knows you. Knows your name. Says you and his boy were at school together. ‘Splains the flowers, I guess. Condolences, not that you cared, did ya?” She shakes her head, “you always were off in your own little world. Well, I’m not doin’ your dirty work for ya. You ain’t gonna be your mother if I can help it so you want him gone, you tell him you didn’t give a damn about that dead one.” 

You frown. You don’t understand why she’s so callous. She’s never shown any concern about anything but her books. It’s not your fault your parents didn’t want you. Or that she doesn’t either. You only ever begged for her attention, for a sliver of her approval. 

You blow out between your lips. You won’t argue. There’s no use in it. Besides, it’s a small house, you know he heard all that, that he knows you’re on your own. Maybe that’s why he came all this way. Because he knows you have nothing. 

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #end game #defending jacob

[starlightkun]

little league ➠ teaser [sungchan]

➠ teaser word count: 1383 | full fic: 13.5k ➠ warnings: scenes of a child crying if you don’t want to read that (nightmares and stuff), also people are called mommy/daddy in this so if you can’t be normal abt that please skip this one ➠ genre: fluff, angst? but like around them in terms of life not within their relationship, established relationship, parents sungchan/reader, former hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), part of the buzzer beater series (after freezing the puck, or if you’ve only read buzzer beater & 27jsc, this should still make sense!) ➠ extra info: the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds! ➠ estimated release: saturday, june 15, 2024 3:00 p.m. eastern time

“Hey, buddy,” Sungchan called for your son’s attention, his hands occupied with groceries. “Do you want me or Mommy to help you get ready for your nap? Or are you going to try to do it yourself?”

“Mm…” He looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Mommy!”

“Alright, help with the groceries then I’ll help you, Binnie,” you bargained, putting a bag down on the ground in his reach.

As Woobin dutifully put the bags of chips and boxes of gummies on the lower shelves of the pantry that he could reach, you and Sungchan quickly put away the rest of the groceries. When there was just cleaning and other household supplies left, your husband grabbed those and nodded towards your son.

“Go put buddy down, I’ve got this.”

“Thanks, Channie,” you pecked his cheek before turning to your child. “Lead the way!”

Woobin was able to get into his pajamas by himself, so you were really just there to tuck him in and kiss his forehead. You never bought into the “cry themselves out” mindset from the get-go, and to this day would sit with him until he fell asleep if he asked.

Except this time, he didn’t get into bed at all, standing next to the piece of furniture with you and staring at it like you were about to cliff dive instead of nap. He looked up at you, and you already saw his bottom lip quivering.

“Mommy?”

“Yeah, Binnie, I’m right here, my sweet,” you promised, kneeling down in front of him so you were eye-to-eye. “What’s wrong?”

He threw his arms around your neck, taking quick, shallow breaths as he very bravely tried to communicate with you. “I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna…”

“Okay, I won’t make you right now,” you promised, rubbing his back. “Will you tell me what’s making you upset? Is it the nap? Going to sleep? Did you have a bad dream?”

But he had already devolved into incomprehensible sobs, and you bit your lip at the twinge in your chest. “Alright, sweet, how about we go to Mommy and Daddy’s room? Hm? And I’ll read you something. If you don’t want to nap, you don’t have to today, okay? Sound good?”

You could feel him nod into your shoulder, and that was all you needed to pick him up and settle him on your hip to carry him out of his room. As you passed by Sungchan putting away new bottles of dish soap and dishwasher pods under the sink, he gave you a concerned look. You mouthed a ‘later’ to him as you took your son across your house and into your room. As you passed by your bookshelf, you quickly selected a book, then sat down at the head of your bed, Woobin on your lap. Pulling your blanket up over you two, you let him get settled in and comfortable, still very much crying all the while.

Holding your book with one hand and resting the other on his back, you started reading. After a while, his sobs died down to hiccups, which petered out to just the occasional sniffle. But you could see that he was still awake, his eyes open and following your place as you read. Then, after a while longer, they started to slowly fall shut and his chin would tilt down, then he’d quickly open his eyes again and jerk his head up. Finally, he couldn’t fight the heaviness of his lids, and he fell asleep. You put your bookmark in where you were just before his eyes closed, but kept reading past that, just in case. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the door handle slowly turn, and your bedroom door inch open before Sungchan peered in.

Your husband pointed to the boy in your lap, then made a gesture of pretending to sleep on a pillow, lifting his eyebrows questioningly after. You nodded, still reading softly.

Sungchan slipped in the room, closing the door quietly behind him as well. Having come to a stopping place, you finally closed your book and set it aside on the one you already had on your nightstand.

“Really? You’re reading Breton lais to our child?” Sungchan’s teasing whisper was barely audible. “He’s going to start school saying stuff like nary and furthermore.”

“Says the man who knew I was reading a Breton lai,” you shot back just as quietly.

“Getting married to a lit professor, you pick up a few things.” He then looked down at Woobin. “What happened?”

You sighed and readjusted slightly to hold him tighter now that you had two free arms. “I don’t know. He couldn’t tell me. As soon as he had to get into bed for his nap he just… broke down.”

A deep frown cut across Sungchan’s face as he stroked your son’s hair, but he said nothing else. He left the room, and you heard him moving around throughout the house as you picked up the other book from your nightstand. Eventually, he meandered back in, sitting on his side of the bed and setting up his laptop to quietly work beside you as your son continued napping on your lap and you continued your book. In addition to doing research at the university and being the assistant coach for the hockey team, Sungchan had picked up teaching a couple of Intro to Biology for majors sections, and you could see him answering emails from his students out of the corner of your eye. You were rereading the material for the Direct Study you were leading next semester.

Eventually, Woobin slowly started stirring, grumbling, yawning, and rubbing at his eyes before burying his face back in your chest with a sigh. You stroked his back, attention still on your book. He turned over in your arms when he finally decided that he was awake, blinking his eyes open and staring off into the middle distance.

“Hey, Binnie, you awake?” Sungchan asked quietly.

He nodded slowly, stretching his arms up, and you had to duck your head out of the way to avoid getting smacked in the face by a stray hand.

“Sleep good?” Your husband kept talking to him.

He nodded again, letting out another adorable little yawn.

“Of course you did,” Sungchan chuckled, gently pinching the tip of his nose. “You got the best seat in the house right there, bud.”

Woobin made grabby hands at Sungchan, and he moved his laptop to the side to transfer him from your lap to his, pressing a kiss to forehead once he was settled in against his chest.

“Uncle Chenle is going to be over soon,” you reminded your son of your plans for the night. “Are you excited?”

He perked up at this. “Yeah! He said he was gonna bring me back a souvenir!”

“He does love to spoil you,” Sungchan shook his head, ruffling the boy’s hair.

As Woobin busied himself with his toys in his room, the horrors of naptime all but forgotten, you and Sungchan were having a fervent, whispered conversation in your bedroom.

“Should we even go tonight?” You asked, pulling your outfit on.

“I know, I’m worried about bedtime…” Sungchan sighed, nevertheless assisting you with your zipper.

“Chenle’s really good with him, and you know how much he dotes on Woobin.” You paused in front of the mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles. You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince yourself or your husband at this point.

“I know, I don’t doubt how much he loves our kid, or how much buddy loves him,” he replied, fidgeting with his tie behind you. “I just… would hate to not be there.”

“Me too,” you replied quietly, turning around to fix his tie yourself. “I can practically feel the stress migraine coming on thinking about it.”

“Okay, well don’t do that, baby,” Sungchan insisted, resting his hands on your waist to pull you closer. “I mean, that didn’t happen at bedtime yesterday, did it?”

“No, it didn’t,” you agreed. “Or naptime yesterday…”

“Who’s to say it’ll happen at bedtime today?” He suggested. “Might’ve been a one-time thing. Or only for naps.”

“Right.” You breathed out, having finished with his tie, and now looked up at him questioningly. “So we’re going?”

“Seems like it.”

➠ series masterlist | blog masterlist

#sungchan x reader #riize x reader #sungchan #sungchan imagines #riize imagines #sungchan imagine #riize imagine #nct x reader #nct imagine #nct imagines #jung sungchan #i: sungchan #f: little league #s: buzzer beater #writing #text #mine #jungsung #bias tag #ll: teaser

[igotanidea]

New rules: Damian Wayne x reader

part 4 of "Family rules" series.

A/N: bit of a filler, cause it's been 3 months(!!!!), but promise next part will be more eventful :D

***

„What is this?!” her father yelled, almost throwing the Gotham newspaper in her face.

“I—”

“Let me tell you what this is! This is you kissing Damian Wayne! And your face is all over the newspapers’ front pages!”

“Stop screaming at me!” she spat back feeling her self-control slipping.

“You better tread carefully young lady. Last time I checked you were still living in my house.”

The nightmare began the second she got back from school, still reeling from everything that happened in the principal’s office. Y/N could barely step over the threshold when a tight grip on her shoulders yanked her back, pushing her into the chair in the living room, with a very angered Mr. Y/L/N hovering above her. Felt like a freaking interrogation because she dared to behave like a teenage girl falling in love for the first time in her life.

If her mother was still alive, she would understand. She would sit down with her, ask a lot of questions, let Y/N blush and be supportive as a mother could.

Instead the young girl had to deal with her father, who clearly forgot that part of the role, focusing only on acting as a CEO, whose daughter was fraternizing with the enemy.

And it made her feel guilty.

Guilty for her own feelings, as if falling in love was something shameful. As if he had to pick the right person to whom her heart should start beating. Or not. Not that she could have experienced that, yet¸ but judging by the screams and rage she could say that in the future her father might try to marry her off out of reason.  

“Dad, please listen, I –” her pleading tone was supposed to make the man realize that she wasn’t just a bargaining chip in his business’ development.

“I understand.” The response was cold, emotionless, almost ruthless, leaving no space for arguing.  

“No you don’t understand! You don’t understand! How could you possibly understand love when even mom was nothing more than a trophy wife for you-!“

Her outburst was immediately cut off by a slap and sharp stinging on the cheek followed by the reddened skin and pulsing blood.

“This is what your mother’s upbringing caused.” Her father hissed “ungrateful, stupid, snouted brat. But let me tell you something. This ends here. And if you want to keep living on my expense, you will do as I tell you!”

“I’m 17! I’m underage, you can’t just cast me out!”

“Unless you want to find out what I’m capable of, I advise you to listen to the plan you’re just a pawn in.”

***

“What is it, Damian?” Bruce asked his youngest son when he came back from school. If there was any anger or disappointment in him, he did a great job hiding it.

“It’s nothing.” Said youngest muttered bellicosely.

It obviously had to come to this stupid awkward conversation with his father but Damian was not going to admit anything easily. And the fact that the boy only just realized that he might be slightly in love with Y/N Y/L/N was causing him to act even more coldly and aloofly than usually.

“Son…”

“I said it’s nothing!”

“So you kissing that girl was just you having fun? Or maybe you were trying to humiliate her?”

“What? No!”

“Look, you are a boy. It's okay if you want to blow off steam. It’s understandable.” Bruce smirked, clearly setting a trap for Damian with the reverse psychology trick.

“You understand? Because you had so much blowing off steam when you were younger?" Obviously the boy raised by Thalia Al-Ghul and Ra’s Al-Ghul was smarter than to fall for something so childish. “Besides, it’s such a humiliating experience. I have no interest in primitive youthful pleasures and amorous activities, father.”

“You sure about it?”

“Positive.” Damian crossed arms over his chest, having his face expression under perfect control.

“Good. Get ready for patrol then. We’ll be leaving soon.”

Damian nodded and with stern look and pursed lips left the room, allowing Bruce to finally let out a sigh of worry. His son may have been a skilled vigilante trained in restraint of emotions, but he could not trick Batman himself. It was impossible to notice how Damian’s eyes were focused on that little Y/L/N during all of last night’s gala. Showing much more than just resentment. And then the dance, which Bruce didn’t even have to force him into. And the way his boy was holding that girl. It was almost obvious that Damian had in fact an interest in amorous activities.

And unlike Y/n’s father, Bruce was not mad about it. In fact, he was quite relieved. As long as possible the relationship would not detriment Damian’s Robin duties of course. But seriously, as a father of a 17 year old, Bruce knew that it was only a matter of time when dilemmas and problems related to love and adolescence would come forward.

And unlike Y/N;s father Bruce was going to watch it carefully, intervening when needed, giving a push here and there, but without obvious control.

***

She was crying a waterfall, holding onto the bruised cheek wondering how to best cover it up so no one at school would ask silly questions.

Locked in the room on the first floor, making the most stern resolution to avoid Damian Wayne for dear life. Even if that was the last thing she would do in her life, she wouldn’t get closer than three rows of desks in the classroom.

For what Y/N cared, Damian Wayne was now officially dead to her.

***

He was sitting on the branch of a giant tree next to her house, dressed in Robin costume, observing how the girl walked into her room with a hand on her cheek, though the distance didn’t allow him to uncover why. Was she sick? Would she be at school tomorrow? Maybe the press got to her and she hurt herself running away from the paparazzi?

“Damian.”

AH! He almost fell to the ground.

“Yes, father?”

“What are you doing?”

“Observing.”

“What?”

“The target.”

“Hm.”

“What now?”

“Unless the target changed age, gender and appearance—”

“Our criminal is currently running down 34th street.” Damian cut his father off abruptly and roughly “his tires are about to burst in about 100 meters due to the explosive I planted there. The explosion will give us enough momentum to jump into action and catch him with the stolen goods in his trunk. That is if we get into action in 3…2…1…” he swiftly shot into the air without paying attention to his companion and even less to his words.

As if Batman was trying to suggest Damian might have been watching her.

Huh! Ridiculous!

***

“Hey Y/n, what happened to your face?” The same girl that used to laugh her out about ending up on the pages kissing Damian, guffawed the next day seeing the poorly covered bruise on Y/N’s face.

“None of your fuckin business -“

“Oh, such bad words coming out of the little princess' mouth, isn’t it?”

“Get lost Lisa!” Y/N shut the locker and tried to walk past her bully.

“You will not ignore me!” Lisa hissed and yanked the other girl’s hair back.

“GIRL FIGHT!” someone yelled and in a blink of an eye the corridor was filled with students cheering on one or the other girl as they started to circle around each other waiting for the moment to strike. Before teachers arrived Y/N was on the floor, blocking the hits that Lisa, who was sitting atop her kept on throwing.

“GET OFF ME!”

“YOU WILL RESPECT MY POSITION IN THIS SCHOOL!”

“YOU’RE A BULLY!”

“I’M A QUEEN!”

“OF MENTAL SICKNESS!"

“HE’S MINE!”

“Wait… what?” Y/N stuttered and the moment of confusion ended up in the perfectly aimed nose punch and a quite decent bleeding. Followed by Lisa’s vindictive smile.

“Now your nose matches your cheek.”

“ny-noze….”  tears pricked from Y/N’s eyes from the combined pain and shock. It was not just about the fight, but everything that happened in the last couple days. Her father’s abuse because of falling in love and now Lisa’s torment because of pretty much the same followed by a girl’s jealousy.

“What is happening here?” Fuck, why were the teachers always appearing  after the drama happened.

“She attacked me!” Lisa exclaimed, putting on an innocent face. “So aggressive, I suppose it’s because she was raised only by one parent.”

For a second the principal and the tutor were looking between untouched Lisa and beaten up, bleeding Y/N. It was clear who was the casualty, nonetheless it was Lisa’s family who’s been giving generous donations to school.

“Get up from the floor Y/N.” she was finally instructed and on shaky legs and with dizziness she clumsily stood up still clutching her nose. “This is your second stunt this week. You’re coming to my office and this time, I won’t go lightly on you.”

“It was not her fault.” Someone from the crowd of the students dared to speak up and the people parted, revealing the fuming….

Damian Wayne.

“it was Lisa—”

“Oh, I don’t feel well!” Lisa exclaimed accidentally falling right into Damian’s arms “I feel like I’m going to faint—”

“Mr. Wayne, take Mrs Thomas to the nurse’s office so she can be tended to.”

“What-?” Damian swiftly avoided Lisa’s fall and the girl almost ended up on the floor. “No.”

“N-no?”

“No. Y/N was the one who was attacked. And for crying out loud, she’s the one bleeding and needing medical attention. So no, I’m not taking her—” he threw a glance at Lisa “anywhere when there’s someone else in need.”

“U-uh…” the principal still had in mind the humiliation he was subjected to last time when he had Damian and Y/N talk to him. “Fine! Fine, you take her to the nurse, though it’s completely unnecessary and –” half a sentence and two of them were already halfway away “Fuck. I mean, you all go back to your classes! There’s nothing to see here! Now go, before I put you all in detention!”

***

So her resolve to avoid Damian was broken on the first day. 

And it was about to get even harder from now on. 

_________________________________________

@6000-fandoms @beyond-your-stars @mikyapixie

@heartz4miz @crookedmakerfury @mariam12344 @celestair

@faimmm @hornyslasher

#damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #robin x you #robin x y/n #damian wayne fluff #batfamily x reader

[enoe-of-noen]

Apple’s Birthday

Forgot to do art for his bday soo, happy late birthday my Luci pookie <3

Mc walked back from the store happily, practically skipping their way home. The demons around them looked at them curiously, giving weird looks. Why was the human so jolly today?

Mc took out their keys and opened the doors to HOL, bolting to Lucifer’s room. Almost tripping on the stairs, they caught some of the brothers’ attention. “Mc? What’s got ya in such a hurry?” Mammon appeared. “Sup Mams, trying to get something to Luci.”

“Eh? Mc, Mc!~ Is that little gift for our dear Lucifer?~” Asmodeus sprung up behind them, draping his arms over Mc’s shoulders. “Oh yeah, it’s his birthday today.” Mammon murmured.

“Should we get him a cake?” Beelzebub walked to the trio, chips in hands. “Ah! Good idea!” Mammon grinned.

“At least make it your money this time, Mammon, lol,” Leviathan leaned against Beelzebub, playing on his switch. “I do not need to witness last year’s fiasco again,” Mc chuckled.

“Oh come on, Mc! Cut me some slack, I was low on grimm!”

“You always are,” Belphegor yawned. “Where’s Satan?” Mc raised a brow. “Outside, he found a litter of cats.” Belphegor mumbled. Leviathan looked up from his game and noticed the box in Mc’s hands. “What’s that?”

“Luci’s gift, something I bought and something I made. I’m really proud of it,” Mc grinned. “Aww, that’s so cute, Mc!” Asmodeus kissed their cheek. “Thanks, Asmo.”

“Lucifer’s really busy right now, though,” Beelzebub said through chews. “Ugh, on his birthday?” Leviathan furrowed his brows. “Huh, I thought at least Diavolo would give him a day off.” Mammon scratched his chin.

“I’ll ask him about it,” Mc pat Asmodeus off of them and continued walking to Lucifer’s room.

Arriving at the doors, Mc knocked lightly. “Who is it?” A voice came from behind. “It’s Mc, Lucifer.” Mc heard muffled steps and the doors unlock, a tired Lucifer smiling at them. They noticed the eye bags and the unkept hair instantly. They slightly frowned.

“Afternoon, Mc. Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah, I did. Can I come inside, please? I have something to show you.” They peered inside and saw the big piles of paper and visibly grimaced. Lucifer chuckled at their expression.

“I’ll make it quick if you’re too busy…” they pouted. “I’m never too busy for you, Mc. Come in.” He held the door open for them like a gentleman, slowly closing it behind them. Mc glared at the papers.

“Mc, you don’t need to worry. Diavolo simply forgot a lot of things that were due by the end of the week and I figured I could take the responsibility.”

“But on your birthday?”

“Not to worry, this was of my own choice.”

“I figured, Diavolo probably tried to give you the day, didn’t he?” Mc sighed. Lucifer rubbed the back of his neck nervously, albeit ashamed. “I know you hold yourself as the responsible one, as Diavolo’s most trusted friend and all but…” Mc kept staring at the papers. Lucifer followed their gaze and sighed himself, raking a hand through his hair.

“Forgive me, Mc. I never meant to make you worry. However-”

“Lucifer.” Mc sternly stared, interrupting his train of thought. His breath hitched. He felt himself crumble in front of them, relaxing his shoulders. The way they softly spoke to him, yet their eyes…their eyes. They have beautiful eyes.

Mc blinked and looked down at their box. Lucifer raised a brow. “This is for you.” They held it up to him. It made Lucifer’s heart race. “For…me?” His voice filled with fondness, carefully holding the box. “Can I?”

“Of course.” Mc smiled. Lucifer meticulously yet effortlessly pulled the blue ribbon off and opened to find a card, a hair clip, and a poison apple in its own little box.

“Oh, Mc. These are wonderful.” Lucifer looked in front of him and made a little noise to see no Mc.

“Psst,” Mc’s cheekily chirped. Lucifer looked down and saw Mc sitting on the ground, patting the spot in front of them. “Sit.”

“Mc, it might be easier to sit on the chairs,” Lucifer said as he sat down. “I want to show off the gifts,” Mc pointed at the box. Lucifer took the card out and opened it to see a little paper cutout of himself.

“Oh? What’s this?”

“I made a doodle of you. It’s cute, yeah?”

“You’ve been spending a little too much time with Leviathan, haven’t you?”

“Excuse you, I’ve always been artsy!” Mc feigned frustration, making Lucifer laugh. Lucifer pulled out the hair clip and raised a brow. The hair clip seemed to be handmade, the eldest born’s symbol and apples plastered the surface.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, let me put it on you,” Mc scooched next to him and carefully took the hair clip from Lucifer’s hand. They pulled some of his hair back and placed the hair clip. “Comfy?”

“Yes.” He breathlessly sighed, a red tint covering his cheeks. Mc’s gentle touch made him lean into their warmth. “Oh?” Mc caressed his hair and chuckled. Lucifer let himself rest in Mc’s arms, slowly closing his eyes.

“Thank you, Mc,” he whispered. Mc smiled as they tucked the hair behind Lucifer’s ear and kissed his forehead.

“Any day, my sweet apple.”

Ayy I’m proud of this one

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me leviathan #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #obey me shall we date #obey me drabble #drabble #happy birthday lucifer #late as always #i am proud of this ngl #also yes #luci and apple are his nicknames now

[kimbapisnotsushi]

Hajime’s nineteenth birthday is the first he spends without his best friend.

They’re far from each other and far from home. It’s strange, Hajime thinks, to no longer be confined by mountains and farm fields. Not that California doesn’t have those things—it’s just . . . different. The air is different. The sunshine is different. The way Americans call him by his first name is different. The fact that the driver’s seat is now on the left side of the car instead of the right is different.

Not having Oikawa Tooru by his side is different. 

It wasn’t like Tooru hadn’t tried. He’d sent Hajime a birthday text at the stroke of midnight, and then they spent two hours FaceTiming each other until Hajime had shooed Tooru off, because he knew that Tooru had practice in a few hours and needed at least some shut-eye. And then Hajime had laid there, in the dark of his apartment, wishing and wanting and aching for something a million miles away.

Five thousand and five-hundred thirty-nine miles, to be specific. Not that Hajime is counting. Not that he’s keeping track of every minute that passes between their time zones, because that would be all kinds of pathetic, and Hajime likes to think he's coping with Tooru's absence much better than that.

Anyways. His nineteenth birthday. Off to a great start, obviously. 

It’s also the first birthday he spends with Ushijima Wakatoshi. If you had told Hajime last year that he’d run into Ushijima at a university in California to speak with Ushijima’s father about internships, he probably wouldn't have believed you. If you had told him he’d be stuck in the backseat of a minivan with Ushijima, cruising through the southern Californian desert to watch the stars on his nineteenth birthday—American pop music cranked high, hot wind grazing his shoulders, the van floor littered with chip crumbs and empty boba cups stuffed in the cupholders, with people he’s barely known for the better part of a week—he definitely wouldn’t have believed you. 

But here he is. Munching on shrimp chips, listening to Ushijima’s friends belt out Fall Out Boy. 

Ushijima’s UCI friends are . . . something. Riding shotgun is Kevin Nguyen—he’s what Ushijima calls a “frat boy” and a “gym bro”, but Kevin seems nice enough, if not overly familiar. Selene Hiraishi wears dramatic eyelashes and nails, and her family has been friends with Utsui since he moved to California, so Ushijima’s known her for some time. Citlaly Torres has about a dozen piercings in her ears and graciously offered to drive for the three-hour trip to the park from the university. Avery Cherent, Hajime was happy to discover, is a fellow Godzilla nerd with short silver-dyed high-top curls. Jaesung Han is never seen without their black bomber jacket and a pair of ripped jeans, and—Hajime has noticed—keeps their eyes on him more than the others seem to do.

They’ve taken to Hajime like ants to a cookie, and Hajime is grateful for it, really. He's grateful for anything that can distract him from that empty, aching tug in his chest. From knowing that he'd wake up lonely, and that today would have been a lonely day if it weren't for these plans.

The road is bumpy, and honestly—Hajime is hesitant to even call it a road. It’s more like a wide stretch of dirt that’s been cleared for cars. Joshua trees—the park’s namesake plant—dot the landscape far into the horizon, sharing ground with desert brush and craggy boulders. Outside the open windows, the sky looks like it’s been brushed with watercolor; deep oranges and purples and pinks bleed from the setting sun like the branches of a river.

Citlaly turns into a pullout, kills the engine, and twists around to grin at everyone. “Made it in one piece. What did I tell you guys?”

“You almost crashed into that Honda Civic right off the freeway,” Kevin says. “‘One piece’, my ass.”

“The One Piece is going to be a far greater treasure than your ass, Kev,” says Avery loftily. “They haven’t gone through six hundred and twenty-eight episodes just for that.”

Jaesung claps Kevin’s shoulder as they clamber out. “Don’t worry, Kev, I think you have a great ass.”

Kevin beams. “Aw, Jae! I think you have a great ass, too!”

“Your friends are weird,” Hajime remarks while he and Ushijima hop out the backseat. “Nice, but weird.”

Ushijima smiles. Before today, Hajime hadn’t even known that was something the guy was capable of doing. “They are, aren’t they?

-- an excerpt from wherever you go in this world (i'll come along), an iwaoi bday fic i really really wanted to finish today but perhaps later this week???

#iwaoi #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #sou writes stuff #sou's fics

[basilone]

A blurred photograph + complexion for a MOTA character of your choice! Juno xx

Three months later and I'm finally getting 'round to filling this one. 🫣The time was apparently very, very right for this! Thank you for sending it. 💙

tug of war

“Fuck this. I’m fucking out. Some fucking bullsh–!”

Max winces as the door slams shut behind Lottie, effectively muffling the pilot’s tirade enough to no longer be understandable. One-Eye, furthest away from the door, casts a dark-eyed glare over Bucky’s shoulder toward the window. Undoubtedly Lottie has already stormed outside, not yet close enough to curfew to warrant trouble, and is making a case for herself being someone else’s problem. Max doesn’t track her any further than that, though One-Eye keeps peering over Bucky’s shoulder like it still matters what the hell Lottie gets up to these days.

“Draw straws?” asks Nora, casting a glance at everyone left in the room.

“Not it,” snaps Max, in tandem with Push’s coughed rejection.

“She’d put me in a headlock,” snorts Brady. His expression turns sour. “Again.”

“I’ll do it.”

“John,” says Major Cleven, sounding too tired to be surprised at Bucky’s volunteering. “Let Ace do the talking”– and Max is not imagining the collective wince that shudders through the room at Major Cleven saying Ace instead of Lot –“don’t push her too hard.”

“I’m a friendly face,” says Bucky, smiling so brightly that everyone can tell he’s lying. “She left her jacket. Gonna bring her that, before we have to ask the Ruskies how to defrost a pilot.”

Major Cleven’s hand folds around the letter Lottie left on the table. “You do that.”

Max swallows as conversations around the room begin to pick back up as soon as Bucky moves to leave. Nora and Crank certainly make a concerted effort to loudly discuss the camp’s insane music program with Brady and the rest, which Max leans back from solely because she's already told Brady anything but a funeral dirge is a waste to play these days. She doesn’t want to see their expressions shutter at the reminder of death again. She’d been too vocal about it, just like Bucky had, just like George back in England would not shy away from discussing it on the tarmac.

She watches Major Cleven’s eyebrow rise before he folds Lottie’s letter in a too-neat, too-precise manner. Sees that same letter go up in a flutter of flame – fed to the candle so decisively that it’s gone in the blink of an eye – and turn into a pile of ash in Major Cleven’s food bowl. There’s something hard in his expression. Chips of ice in his eyes and the flicker of deep-set fury around his lips. Max studies her kneecaps, knobbly in this too-big uniform, as soon as his gaze comes to rest on her bunk.

None of this is normal, but almost everyone pretends it is.

“Mama sent a letter,” offers Benny, next to her, voice remarkably steady for someone who’s just met the full brunt of Major Cleven’s silent communication. A DeMarco family letter is maybe the closest tether to sanity Max has got. “Papa included instructions on how to stitch the bedding. They’re both asking about you.”

“Yeah?” she says, leaning back against the wall, coming shoulder to shoulder with him. “What’d they want?”

“Ask how you are, if you’re getting through that cough from a few weeks back okay,” he says, nudging her slightly as if to underscore the ridicule of the mail’s slowness. “Mama’s asking if she can write to you, or if you’re expecting letters from anybody.”

Max frowns. “The hell would anyone be writing me for? Unless you count Val and George,” she amends, seeing Benny’s deepening frown out of the corner of her eye. “They’ve been writing to One-Eye and me, but George is also writing to Bucky and Val’s real busy and all.”

“That’s your crew family.”

“Only one I got, dumbass,” she shoots back, rolling her eyes for emphasis as she turns to face Benny. “I haven’t got a big family. Or any family. All I’ve got is some blurry photograph of a man who might be my daddy, might be a total stranger. Can’t write to what you don’t have, yeah?”

“I’ll tell mama.” His eyes crinkle with his smile. “She’s already adopted Frosty. She’s got room for one more.”

“Yeah, but you and Frosty are, uh, you’re all Italian and all,” says Max lamely, waving her hand as if she can shoo Benny’s stupid idea out the door again. “This complexion of mine? Pretty sure this”– she motions, rolling one sleeve up for emphasis –“is too damn dark to be Italian. First goddamn thing Huglin asked me when he clapped eyes on me is if I was one of those Tuskegee airmen. So much for being white-passing, huh.”

“You’re just very tan,” he says levelly, which she snorts at only because she’s used that excuse a million times before. “Doesn’t change the fact that my mama wants to write to you.”

Her eyes sting, then, and she has to cast her gaze to the top of her bunk until she’s certain she won’t do something stupid like cry about it. “That’s not fair,” she whispers, barely loud enough to be heard over the din of the music discussion. “I-If you… If you knew how many times…” How many times I wished someone would see me and take me in like that. She swallows the wish back down. Settles on the truth. “Folks don’t give a shit about orphans like me.”

Benny shrugs. “It’s just letters, Max.”

Max stares. “It’s never just letters with your family, Benny.”

“Yeah, so, maybe it’s not,” he says, setting his mama’s letter down. It covers the pages full of neat, looping script Max recognizes as Darlene’s – Darlene’s done all the lettering on their planes, she’d know it blind – as well as a shorter scrap of paper with the same script that’s not addressed to Benny at all. “But I’m getting real tired of updating my folks about you girls all the time, barely have enough space left to tell them how I’m doing,” he chuckles, “so be a peach and write to my mama for me sometime? You can do it with One-Eye and Push if you want, saves me even more space.”

“Right, because you’re such a poor little victim baby.”

“Cry myself to sleep about it,” he grins.

“Benny,” says Max, admiring, “sometimes you can be a real cunt.”

“All in an honest day’s work.”

“Honest, says the man who’s hoarding a letter to Lottie,” she says archly, nodding at the scrap of paper that’s still sticking out. “You gonna give her that?”

“Later.”

“Never.”

“Jesus, Maxine, I said later.”

“When? Because I’ll bunk with the fucking Ruskies on the day you hand her that,” she says, shuddering to herself. “Captain Petrov said he’ll find us a place with their bomber girls. I might even learn more Russian.”

“Captain Petrov needs to stop adopting everyone who reminds him of his little sister,” grumbles Benny back, expertly dodging Max’s question about the letter. “Hey, Buck”– and it’s a done discussion, apparently, which Max folds her arms and scowls about –“did you know Petrov put an offer in to adopt the girls?”

Max’s scowl almost breaks when Major Cleven’s confused which girls, Benny? mingles with Benny’s exasperated sigh and gesture at the room at large. And she’s gone and said it now – something else for them to focus on, something for Brady to mutter furiously about – and Benny’s already slipping off her bunk and conferring with the Major in low-voiced tones before Max can say she doesn’t think Captain Petrov would whisk them away without permission.

Her hand hovers over Benny’s letter a moment before she snatches it off the bed.

Dear Bernardo, she reads, settling in a huddle against the wall, eyes roving over the page until… She stops. Give little Maxine our love, it says, and she’s not…

She’s not ready for a thing like that.

She’s not at all prepared for something like that. And Benny won’t get that – not with his family like it is, not with Darlene writing to him like that – and Major Cleven will get it a little too well – she’s seen the way he holds his fork, all quick meal on the go – and she doesn’t want to talk to One-Eye about it because One-Eye still believes people can be good without wanting something from you.

There’s only one other person in this damn camp who’ll know something about what it means to be loved in spite of your own efforts to reject it.

“I’m going for a walk,” she announces, slipping Darlene's letter to Lottie into her large sleeve.

#masters of the air #mota #mota fic #mota oc #bernard demarco #oc: max #plus the rest of this sorry little collective in camp #Max is a troublemaker okay what can I say #basilonewriting

[soldier-poet-king]

Actually the whole work thing would be infinitely less stressful if I actually knew how to navigate the white collar world and was not from a working class background and I have no idea how anything works because we were poor! No one in my family has done shit like this!

#the duality of fran #like. calling my job white collar is a little laughable #im not like. a lawyer. but in the sense that it's office work and not trades or physical labour #but yeah my family is like. cannot help me at all #and i have SUCH a chip on my shoulder about it #not so much the poor ness but the inexperience. the fish out of water feeling. the ignorance #i don't know how to naviagte this world. it is so far removed from everything i grew up with #and i hate that #(oh adam parrish i get it i get it i get it. its shame and anger and HUNGER) #plus like. i lowkey think some of the financial instability of my childhood #while never severe (we were housed and clothed and fed and by all accounts fine) #just having the threat or miasma of it hanging over us esp when [redacted] happened #like i think that made me especially fearful and wary of career insability or any sort of change or risk

[devilsskettle]

hate when straight girls talk about chopping off all their hair and they mean this

not to expose myself for scrolling on tiktok but jesus christ + also all the comments are like do NOT cut your hair you will regret it so much!! do you all want me to kill myself

#chip on my shoulder about how many people have tried to talk me out of cutting my hair short :/ #i’ve had short hair + loved it i am not going to regret it just bc you think women should have long hair #and you think that short means shoulder length #another chip on my shoulder about how many search results for ‘short wavy hair’ are shoulder length haircuts #fuck you personally actually

[spookyweaselbones]

I made a theme song for my dead fursona, and now I'm going to pay money for you to hear it.

#I'm not apologizing for blazing this time #yes I'm aware of what it implies about my music that it costs money for people to hear it #and yes I'm aware that people sometimes get paid by others to hear their music and I know that that ship has sailed for me #and yes I have a massive chip on my shoulder about it #but you know what else I have #10 dollars #so

[fadedflora]

i have not listened to hamilton in like a week why is he STILL HERE

read the tags if you want to see me talk about musicals for a little TOO long

#this is no hate to you mr leslie odom jr #but i have most certainly listened to other musicians/bands more #anyways i'd say the rest is accurate #my bff and i have been doing a musical binge #started with wicked -> ride the cyclone -> shrek -> legally blonde -> falsettos #i cried twice at falsettos btw it's so fucked up (i loved it sm) #i've listened to wicked before but haven't actually *seen* it so that was nice #i've also heard a couple songs from ride the cyclone & falsettos b4 so i already knew they'd be good #and i've seen shrek the musical like 3 times bc i unironically love it #overall opinions: ride the cyclone might have my favorite cast of characters and i think falsettos might be my favorite musical now #fav songs (for funsies): #ride the cyclone: noel's lament / the ballad of jane doe / jawbreaker / space age bachelor man (insane song btw) #wicked: no good deed / popular #shrek: i know it's today / don't let me go / i think i got you beat / this is our story / what's up duloc? #falsettos: this had better come to a stop / i'm breaking down / four jews in a room bitching / a tight-knit family/love is blind #falsettos cont.: everyone hates his parents / falsettoland/about time #legally blonde: blood in the water / positive / ireland / chip on my shoulder / so much better / whipped into shape / take it like a man #legally blonde cont.: bend and snap / there! right there! / legally blonde / legally blonde - remix / find my way/finale #SORRY I OPENED A PANDORA'S BOX WHEN I STARTED TALKING ABOUT MUSICALS #i really should've posted this on my other acc oh well #okay i'm gonna shut up now im so sorry LMAO #falsettos #legally blonde musical #legally blonde the musical #shrek the musical #shrek musical #wicked #wicked musical #ride the cyclone

[chipistrate]

I'm spinning Sonic Movie 3 around in my brain I understand these guys I get them (the movie isn't out yet)

#Chip Chatter #I could ramble foreverrrr about the way they could explore different types of found family and how different people have different needs an #andnadndand how Shadow joining the Wachowskis would be ooc but him finding family and belonging with Rouge even if it's just the start of a #long journey to find that belonging would be so perfect and awesome and everything ever I'm grabbing you by the shoulders I'm not insane #I don't even know if she'll be in the movie but it's such a golden opportunity to further explore the heavy theming of found family in the #Sonic Movies without just cramming everyone into the same family like!! different people have different needs and wants and comfort zones!! #not everyone will fit into the same box Not everyone can fit into the nuclear family and not everyone WANTS too!!!!! #Some people are little freaks that have a big sister and maybe a big robo brother if they aren't cowards and that's all they need!!!!! #Sorry. Sorry I'm normal. I'm normal. I'm okay. I'm sane. I'm normal. #Team Dark found family 5ever I'll defend you with my life #god. god don't even get me started on Shadow and Sonics movie dynamic. Fuck. God. Whatever.