#gotten back to me even though i applied in FUCKING DECEMBER

[blunderpuff]

put on tshirt after doing yardwork (cuz i got hot) and my mom immediately commented "look at YOU in bArE aRmS"

so i put on my long shirt again

#me and my mom #no matter how upset i get or tell her to keep her comments to herself... she won't #i'll knit a whole-ass fucking sweater and she'll immediately say 'it's too short' #thank u for invalidating every fucking thing i do and/or make #i made beef stew and it actually turned out good but all she could say was 'the house smells like onions.' #and then i'll see a job listing for something i don't have experience with/can't do and she'll get mad at me and aggressively #tell me 'you can do anything! library work translates to (job field that library work doesn't translate to)' #and it's just so frustrating bc she obviously has this idea of me in her head and i just don't match up #the whiplash from the 'you are so smart and you can do anything!' abt hypothetical things to the 'it's too short' abt things i actually do #'i don't like the color' 'i don't like the neckline' 'i don't wear wool' (it's not a sweater i made for anyone but me) #'oh look at you wEaRiNg ShOrTs' 'oh look at you wEaRiNg a sKiRt' #and danny got fat and she keeps commenting on it and all i can assume is that it's ALSO a comment on my putting on weight #but then we eat at fucking Popeye's for lunch twice a week #and no matter how much i say 'please stop making me eat junk food' we keep going #she doesn't leave the house on her own. she won't let me leave the house on my own #i had more freedom as a 16yo than i do now #wonder why i'm so FUCKING miserable and depressed all the time!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #i left a decent-paying job! for nothing!! i'm just sitting here and rotting and the library system here sucks and they STILL haven't #gotten back to me even though i applied in FUCKING DECEMBER #she can't finish a meal anywhere so anywhere we go i have to eat half of her lunch. so it's not stuff i would pick anyway #how do you even apply for jobs and put anything in your 'skills' when you're so fucking miserable you wish you were dead

[voidsuckers]

i'm extremely depressed

#i'm on the waitlist for social housing - the employment services for disabled people - the autism support service #once approved for social housing it takes another 10-12 years to get somewhere to live #applied for autism support service back in january and six months later i was 70th on the list #employability said december is the earliest they'd contact me #i'm tired all the time even though i'm not anaemic anymore #there's no way out #people always say 'it gets better' #EVERYTHING and i mean FUCKING EVERYTHING has gotten worse since i was 12 #every year of my 20s has been a shitshow #there is no evidence in life that things get better #things don't improve #they never have #and i'm going to die on this miserable fucking island #misc: personal #depression cw

[the-wolf-who-writes]

Zorua!Desmond AU Part 2

The first thing that told Clay something was wrong with the “timeline”, as he called it, was when his Porygon-Z glitched.

It did that occasionally for no reason at all. After it evolved when Clay was taken from Animus Island to “monitor the Tree”, Clay noticed some odd behaviors in his Pokémon partner. Such as it would glitch or even vanish for a few seconds before reappearing completely normal.

His companion wasn’t like any other Porygon-Z’s Clay had studied back in school. It had golden circuitry running around its body that Clay privately guessed had something to do with the Isu. Maybe it had been an experiment or something? Clay could only guess.

But he often attributed the weirdness down to “Isu bullshit” and left it at that. He had to watch a bunch of possible timelines end in catastrophe anyways, why would he have to spend more computer-brain power on weird shit his Pokémon did?

Not that he didn’t care for his Pokémon partner. He did. He was just a busy computer man trapped in a gray room for the rest of his existence.

Trainer Clay, I believe there is a glitch in the current timeline that might have something to do with Subject 17, Desmond Miles.

Clay’s head turned so quickly he would have gotten whiplash if he were still in his human body. His Porygon-Z talking in his head wasn’t a new thing. The mention of Seventeen though…

“Copy-paste and upload it through the Isu database to the Tree. Scan it for Desmond’s location.” Clay ordered, reaching out and placing his palm on the Tree’s trunk to quickly access the information.

Affirmative. Upload complete.

December 21st, Desmond Miles sacrificed himself to use the Eye to prevent the solar flare from frying Earth. A split second before he should have died, a glitch happened and the Eye responded to-

“This can’t be right.” Clay muttered. “It says the code was rewritten with a new program.”

New program accessed:

DO NOT LET DESMOND BE ALONE

connected to

AUDITORE FAMILY LINE

EZIO AUDITORE: linked to

PETRUCCO AUDITORE

Program applied:

2012 ERROR

1473 ACCEPTED

Eye activated

Program accepted

Rerouting power into TIME TRAVEL MODE

Combining human-Isu-Pokémon DNA

Combination successful

Program complete

Thank you for using Isu Interfaces

The information overload passed in a blink. Clay staggered back, gripping his head. “How the fuck did that give me a headache?”

Clay’s partner gave its best impression of a shrug. Clay just shook his head. Isu tech was an anomaly and every time he thought he finally understood it…

It did something weird like turn Seventeen into a Pokémon and throw him back in time. Well at least he was with the Auditore family. It could be worse.

Clay quickly located the branch of the timeline Desmond had been thrown into. He watched Ezio find a… bunch of static? Clay squinted and tried to go back farther in the timeline. He found he couldn’t go earlier then Ezio approaching a closed-off alleyway in Firenze and scooping a bunch of static into his arms, talking softly to it.

1473, only three years before the betrayal of the Auditore men. Clay’s gaze darkened as he watched Ezio bring the static to his little brother and flashes of the months ahead popped into his mind.

Petrucco hauled away with Federico and Giovanni, the static hidden inside of a false passageway that led from Petrucco’s room to Maria Auditore’s gardens. Maria and Claudia were also taken by the guards because they had gone out to buy some berries for the static.

“Hey Malware, are you able to make out the identity of that static?” Clay croaked. His non-existent heart pounded in his chest.

Running diagnostics.

The Anomaly in the Timeline is none other than Desmond Sneak, subject 17-B. Variant: Zorua, Hisuian. Dual type: Normal-Ghost. Current moveset-

“Stop.”

Clay watched as Desmond emerged from the hidden passageway and sniffed the air. The human-turned-Pokémon jumped onto Petrucco’s bed and let out a cry. He circled on the bed and laid down.

Clay cut the timeline connection to let Desmond mourn in peace.

#absolutely not sorry for the angst :3 #angst #assassin’s creed #clay kaczmarek #codextober #also AU where Clay is the reader instead of Desmond since #Desmond as a Pokémon

[abyssvi-blog]

Real and blunt VENTING POST. honest feelings about my void journey: TRIGGER WARNING. Extreme negativity, mentions of abuse and sexual assault.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

I haven’t gotten into the void state still. I’m feeling incredibly overwhelmed and disappointed in myself right now. I’m so sick of my life and I want to enter by the end of December. I’m still determined to get there though.

I can’t stand my abusive father. I just want to grab everything I own into a bag and run away again.

People ask me in DMs what my reason is and it’s due to previous sexual assaults, family issues and my reputation being damaged by previous friends in real life.

I am in my mid 20s. I do not have a job because I could not graduate college. I clean up after my father all day because of his dementia and abusive behavior because my own mother is too old and busy. I literally have to fucking WIPE HIS ASS cause he’s too fat and lazy to do it himself. I cook, clean up after him all the time and he never appreciates it. Instead I get hit or called a nasty name. I shit you not.

All my friends in real life has left me and I legit only have $500 in my bank account right now which is pathetic. Why you ask? I had to use my money for my dad’s bills.

I am applying for as many jobs as possible to get money to at least move out. I’m doing my best to help my mom but business is bad right now. We take turns taking care of my father but we both don’t want to do it. My own parents have once kicked me out before due to an argument. But I didn’t have anywhere else to go in the end so I came crawling back like a dumb puppy.

I have been on tumblr for a few years now. I’ve known about the void state for a long long time as you all can see. Im more than aware that the void is a part of us.

I was:

- listening to subliminals all day, reading the comments and feeling upset at how fast people entered.

- reading success stories and feeling happy for them but still jealous deep down.

- trying every binaural beat, meditation known to man.

- getting upset over drama in Tumblr with fake void state bloggers and some even charging $300 for affirmation tapes

- lying in bed all day to enter the void state then getting upset that nothing happens so I turn around to sleep

Before anyone tells me that I’m not trying “hard enough” and that “I’m not trying in the slightest to stay positive,” that I should try this and that…

Dude. I’m legit at my limit. Don’t you all think that I know people have done it before in horrible circumstances? Don’t you all think that I haven’t tried?

I’m doing my best to stay positive but it’s definitely now toxic positivity and I seriously need to vent. I’m fucking sorry for the extreme negativity. I see posts about how the void state is so easy and we all enter it but I just cry. Like if it’s easy, then why is it taking me this long? Just who the fuck did I piss off

I have never been incredibly disappointed in myself. I’m writing this because I can deeply relate to all of you. As a struggler, it’s insanely discouraging.

[madamepestilence]

does anyone know of any entry level jobs you can do online? ive had a really rough year and my monthly necessity spending just increased to nearly $1000 - $900 is with minimal staple groceries

i quit my last job in december and applied for jobs for 6 months in two separate counties, and all but two silently rejected me - and those two directly told me i had been rejected

i ended up going down to the courthouse and making a company of just me so that i could work freelance with my father, but my father being who he is, severely violated one of my boundaries and i stopped interacting with him in early august

it's now been nearly 10 months of applying to jobs and not a single place has hired me; im literally at the point of reapplying for things, and most available jobs are things like lawyers and registered nurses and local government positions that im not qualified enough to even apply for

the only job that's even given me a chance hasn't gotten back to me since my two interviews and its been two weeks and im losing hope about them hiring me as my job application expires in about two weeks

im running low on savings and can only go about 4 months on this maximum, and that's assuming the person i live with doesn't decide to move out, which would completely fuck me over

i can't work on anything graphically intensive as my laptop doesn't have a powerful cpu or gpu,

audio work like voice acting would require me to be nocturnal as my mic is incredibly sound sensitive without a filter and the person i live with is loud and i have to have fans running nearly all day and night during the late spring to mid fall,

i don't know how to do programming and i often make basic arithmetic mistakes when trying to do complex math

streaming makes literal pocket change and i don't have the energy or skill to make and monetize art

the only things i know i can really do is typing, maybe writing subtitles, maybe voice acting (though my voice isn't great and audio conditions are abysmal where i live...), and im genuinely considering digital sex work (irl sex work is both not possible in my living situation and would of my life at risk here)

please help me

i desperately need help getting a job

#job #jobs #work #looking for work #looking for jobs #looking for a job #please help #help me

[rosemary-crane]

Pt. 2 of the stem of my corset-making ✨mistakes✨

So as we last left off, I was in the throes of complete and utter Audacity, thinking I could make the corset perfectly, with zero(0) experience with corsets. So, I made a mock up with cotton muslin and 1/2” twill tape, as seen below, wrote down my alterations and tried applying them.

Jk, I started having DoubtsTM, not helped by the fact that I was wavering over how wide the waist actually was, because my mockup and the description of the pattern’s measurement weren’t the same, whether to leave a few in. gap in the back or making it meet perfectly center back after lacing up (as is historically and og pattern accurate), getting confused when my mockup did not have the measurements as a costuber who was using the same pattern, and last but not least, I was fitting only one half of the corset and without any boning/busk, because I hadn’t gotten them yet. :/

Fml the pics got cropped weirdly

anyways, eventually I caved after trying to make another mockup as seen above and still not sure but unwilling to use up more fabric and time because I wanted it all done by December, and decided to run with the Etsy description measurement and add 1” on both halves of the corset, but split evenly between the panels 5, 6, & 7, because I thought they were too small, and extend the bust line on the other panels by half a cm to cover my nips, but hey at least my boobs weren’t bulging unseemly so over the bust of the corset so that part was clearly Fine otherwise. Mind you, I didn’t sew in the bone channels except like 2 and that was more for funsies than actually helpful in fitting a mock up. I also made a little make-shift pattern around the end of November for the top band of boning in the cups since that wasn’t provided but appeared to be added only after sewing panels 2, 3, & 4 together. Also, sometime in August to September, my busk and metal stamps had arrived and I made time to try and stamp the flowers onto the metal loops. Even though I had bought them in the smallest size available, the stamps were still too big to fit on the loops, which I ALREADY KNEW when I bought them, but I was in Denial :D I still tried, but quickly realized that for some godforsaken reason, the metal stamps weren’t stamping no matter how hard I hit it with a hammer (because we don’t have any softer mallets) and I’m✨ a cheapskate✨ so no buying another tool. Just to make sure, we tried stamping the actual um, hmmm would u call it a body? of the busk just to test whether it was the stamps or the small surface space, but even then they refused to properly create the stamped image so ig it was the metal?? *leans into the metaphorical mic* So that was a failure. AND AND just to top it all off, I realized that the busk I ordered was too long for the pattern, and because I didn’t want to make the front longer at the bottom, I had to order a shorter one, which also took time.

So, around mid to late September, like any good young individual, I was so confident things were going great that I drew up my altered pattern pieces all nice and official-like. Clearly, several months and a pound of blood, sweat, and tears later, that was wrong, cause I now am having to go back and scrap all of them except panels 1 and 7 >:///// but since I was oh so proud then of my work, here’s the general lineup, partially obscured out of respect for the pattern maker. Also, I had later decided to double the bones in panels 5 6 7 because I only realized after drawing them up that the bones I got, 3/16”, were like half the width of the og pattern bones, and pls don’t ask me about the smaller vertical bones in panel 7, because even I don’t remember what the fuck was going on there and u can’t erase ink. And if ur asking, well why the fuck didn’t u just buy bones in the correct width? Well, the supplier I ordered them from took like, 2 weeks to a month to arrive which wouldnt arrive in time for my deadline and were expensive as fuck, so I thought that I could just skate on by on my thiccc panels of tiny bones. It was already December 6 by the time I realized this mind u, so I also had to push my deadline back to December 20 as the latest I could tolerate, because I wanted to wear it for an event at the end of the year.

my fabric arrived in late September to early October and this was when I realized my second mistake, which was that instead of greige, I got cool grey toned to purple, so that was fun :/ like I like that color but it still wasn’t what I was originally going for, so a lesson in always buying a swatch first ig. Also it looked less like a sateen and more like a plain weave, and I was expecting something with a sheen like my moodfabrics cotton sateen, so another lesson in the reliability of quality from random suppliers. ://// I gave them both a thorough soak in clean water before leaving the to dry on the line for like 2 days? Just as a precaution if I ever get the corset wet so that it doesn’t shrink or warp, and also any excess dye for the sateen. I had finished drawing and cutting out my patterns sometime during all this too. Then I also ironed them both out to get rid of wrinkles, which I did over 3-5 days I think. I was also trying to buy cotton thread in a similar color to the fabric, but my first spool ended up being too light and in a fit of desperation, I tried dying it, failed miserably in terms of efficiency, and finally gave up that attempt to buy actually similar colored thread with a sample of some of my sateen. :|

From there, there’s multiple options on how you cut ur pattern out, but since coutil is so dense and sturdy, I decided that I would cut the pattern pieces out of that first, baste them wrong sides together to the sateen, then cut them out using the coutil pieces as the pattern for the sateen, which is much lighter and delicate. Obviously, you have to make sure to cut them according to the grainlines, and then for me, also baste them to match the sateen’s grainline. I spent a good chunk of time doing this, all the way into the beginning of November. I can remember because I vividly recall sewing basting through Halloween instead of getting out of the house. I don’t have any pics of this because I was so focused on making that I didn’t remember to take pics. 😔✌️ I did start sewing panel 1, my new busk, and the twill tape and did in fact remember to try testing the sewing machine on scraps of coutil and sateen first, but was again delayed when I had to face the fact that I had to get an actual awl and not just use the thin knitting needles I already had access to in order to poke holes for the pegs of the busk to poke through because I didn’t want to cut the fabric and compromise the stability of the corset, which would be under quite a bit of tension. I was also taking classes so I got delayed several times, increasingly so as we got closer to the end of the year/term. Even then, it was only until the beginning of December that I finally got to properly start sewing everything together. And by then, everything I had ordered had also arrived, which is good. Well, not rlly in regards to the grommets haha ha….

#sewing #corset #historical costuming #fashion

[gjenevarants]

Almost Job/Mom

2/9/24

I think I’m just angry. Angry and disappointed. I’m disappointed that even after so many emails back and forth, after having to reschedule the interview because of something on their end, that the job went nowhere. A part of me understands that they went forward with another candiet. They might have needed to fill the position quickly, but if that were the case you would think they would have scheduled an interview with me at the earliest opportunity. That would have been Tuesday. Instead, they picked Thursday and then rescheduled to Saturday due to conflicting meetings. Part of me wonders if that was about the person who decided to higher. I would think that they would have wanted to meet or at least talk with not over email to all applicants. Again, they could have been desperate but that just circles back to my previous point. I’m just disappointed. I really wanted the job. I finally had something to look forward to and the rug lining the stairs was just pulled from under me, sending me tumbling back down them. Dad mentioned the usual: it would be ok, that I'm still here (both him being someone I can talk to and that I’m still breathing) and all I could remember was that line from Hamilton. See I never thought that I would live past twenty. I always wondered why that line stands out to me. Part of me has always known why and after last November, well, I turn twenty this year. That other part of me wonders how long I’ll last until I snap and actually go for the kitchen knives. 

I’m also angry. I’m angry at mom. When am I not upset with her in some way? This time I’m angry at her and a bit of myself because I went to her for comfort expecting something that wasn't a backhanded comment or a barbed wire phrase. She started out as understanding: that’s happened to me before, I can help you write a response. Then she played the: you’ve gotta keep applying to places, go in person to talk to them. Then she played what she thinks is her trump card: we’re broke as fuck. All that does is make me angry. Just last night, I watched her buy three sets of earrings and makeup she didn’t need. She’s used my makeup before both with and without permission. At least this time she asked before using my nail polish. I still haven't gotten it back though and I have no idea where it is. She always buying shit she doesn't need or have room for: new cloths, wall shelves she is never going to hang (they are on the floor behind the dining table with the boxes, we can bareilly use the damn thing), tickets to shows she really wants to go to but should not be buying because the money needs to go to something else. She’s been talking about not being able to pay off her credit card. She’s been talking about not knowing if she’ll be able to cover taxes. She says and does all this stuff then turns and tells me we're broke as if it's my fault. You think I don’t know we’re broke?! I literally watch her do all this shit and then she says it like it's my fault! There are so many things that I want to go and do! So many shows I want to go and see! And I can’t! And I know that! I may not be ok with it but at least I understand why! I have restraint! Yes I see clothes I want! I see shelving units and other helpful things that could be useful, and don’t even get me started on the things that I want to do before I die! I’m not complaining about the monetary reasoning as to why no! I’m complaining about bull shit laws about not being able to legally travel by yourself until twenty one! About not being able to get hotel rooms and bed and breakfasts because I’m still nineteen. I literally have only twenty dollars in my bank account right now! I have ten in savings! I’m not going anywhere because I don’t want to have to buy thirty dollars worth of gas that will only end up lasting a week! I have been eating less than I should have since December out of self deprivation! Partially because I know we can’t afford shit and because I hate my body shape. My new year's resolution was to exercise, to go on walks but I’m not! The nearest walking trails are all fifteen minutes away! That takes gas and gas takes money. I went on one walk when the new year started. One! And that was with dad and stepmother. I’m angry at mom because she is a hypocrite. She’s more nowadays than she is a mother. 

I’m just angry. I’m disappointed in her. Society always paints women to be the backbone of everything. She’s not. I don't even know if she knows what that means sometimes. I’ve tried talking to both her and dad about societarian pressure. About peer pressure. Neither of them understand. Not really. The other day there was someone outside of Target asking for money. They couldn’t afford their rent that month. I felt so bad for them, not because I saw them, but because when I looked at them I saw my mom. I saw where she might end up if she keeps doing this. I saw where I might end up if I can’t get away from her and that scares me. I’ve talked about being seen as her, about being treated like all I’m supposed to be is another her. And I’m not! I don’t want to be! I can’t! Very few people know how to look at me and see someone else. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t distance myself from her. I can’t get away from her shadow. From her reflection. I used to not know why I would look in the mirror and try to see my day. Any features I shared with him. Anything! And now I understand why. Now I get it! And knowing does nothing. 

Nothing changes. Nothing has changed no matter what I do. I’m stuck in this bullshit cycle where I feel like I’m living in her slipstream. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep living with her. I can’t talk to her about anything! If I do she either makes it about her or turns it into a backhanded barbwire phrase. If I keep living with her I may not actually live past twenty. I tried talking to dad about it, about moving. About getting anywhere else and his response was to get a job. And understand why. I get it, but he still doesn’t hear me. And I think maybe, maybe that’s because he managed to get away. 

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #093

(taken december 24th last year; uploading surveys taken while gone)

Would you rather have another job? I wish I had *A* job. It's gotten so deep under my fuckin skin but I just don't know of any position I could handle.

Did you ever live in a house with more than one story? No.

What room of your home do you spend most time in? The spare room where I keep my laptop at a desk.

Is your second toe longer than your big toe? They're really the same length, I think.

Have you ever given yourself a tattoo? No, and I wouldn't. I'm leaving that to professionals.

Do you own any clothes you wouldn’t wear in front of your mother? No. I don't/can't buy my own clothes anyway, she literally buys everything I wear.

Do you have health insurance? I have Medicaid, even though I'm technically too old for it while being under my parents' names. My mom went through fucking hell to keep me on it.

What are some medical issues you’re currently dealing with? My weight and the extreme weakness in my legs, above all. Then there's loads of mental/emotional stuff, mostly centering around my sub-zero amount of self-worth and how it's affecting various areas of my life.

Why did you last take pain medication? I had a bad headache.

What physical traits have you inherited from your father? Uh... I don't know. I have a habit of pacing like he does (or at least, I did when standing wasn't excruciating), but idk if that counts.

How about your mother? Her height, kinda her hair, and our metabolism is very similar. As I've gotten older I also think my skin is coming to look more like hers, especially my arms, full of little dots and stuff.

What personality traits do you wish your children would inherit from you? In that hypothetical world, I'd most of all want them to have big hearts that care a lot about people like I very genuinely do. I know I'd also be HORRIBLY disappointed if they didn't like animals, but I would absofuckinglutely raise my kids from literal infancy to enjoy and respect the presence of all animals. I'd also want them to be resilient and able to bounce back and just keep going no matter what, which I honestly feel is a very strong trait among my family members.

What parts of the world are your ancestors from? Germany, Ireland, and Poland that we know of. I don't think any of us really know Dad's heritage.

Have you ever had a strange pet, outside of the normal animals people keep? I mean, I've had a good number of reptiles, but I think they're pretty accepted as rather "normal" these days.

Do you believe in astrology? Absolutely not.

Do you drive an electric car? No, we could absolutely never afford that.

What are your opinions on global warming? It is a major fucking issue people NEED to take more seriously, because otherwise we ARE going to make this planet inhabitable.

Do you like facial hair on guys or do you prefer the clean shaven look? I'm entirely capable of liking either. It depends on the guy.

Who was your first celebrity crush? Jesse McCartney, lol.

Are you good with kids? It's funny, I NEVER think I am, I feel like I'm so super awkward around them, but historically kids have really liked me. Mom thinks it's because I'm more of a "fun" adult that is just able to connect with kids' interests and desires more than most. I'm so far from a "serious" adult.

Are you usually late, early, or right on time? Right on time or early. My mom takes me everywhere, so it's really up to her.

Are you good at applying makeup? NO. My tremors make it very difficult, and plus my vision is just so bad that even with a close-up mirror, without my glasses on? It's a struggle to see everything as clearly as I need.

Do you like pastel colored hair? FUCKING YES and I wish my goddamn hair would TAKE COLOR PROPERLY so I could do it, ugh.

What do you think about the most? Probably Girt, honestly.

Do you like to see it snowing outside? YES!! Ugh I hope we get some this year.

Do you have your national flag hanging up anywhere outside your house? No. This reminds me that I still wanna get an LGBTQ+ flag to hang in my room like at the head of my bed or something.

Have you ever been in a choir? When I was a kid going to a Catholic church/school, my sisters and I were in the choir for a while. I was also in chorus during elementary school.

Do you look older or younger than you actually are? People always think I'm younger.

When is the next time you’ll be up on stage? Probably never, really.

Where did you spend your last birthday at? My house as well as The Cheesecake Factory with my mom, boyfriend, and two sisters.

What was the last show that you watched a full episode of? Girt and I have resumed our Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives bingeing. 🥴 That show always makes us hungry as fuck lmao.

Is there anything you need to work on doing soon? I'm probably going to finish my nature photography class later today. I gotta read a bit and then do the final exam and I should be done.

Were you ever a boy or girl scout? As a child, yes.

Do you take your medications in the morning or at night? I have meds that I have to take at both times.

Have you ever bought a YouTuber’s merch? Well I have two Cloak shirts, which is Markiplier and jacksepticeye's business. There are YTers whose merch I do want though.

What is the best type of donut? It depends on what I'm up for, really. Sometimes I like chocolate frosted, sometimes glazed, sometimes cake/plain...

Do you like thrift stores? YES. We haven't been to one in many years, but you can find the coolest, most niche stuff.

What is your town known for? Crime, literally. I'm not kidding at all, it's infamous for it. Hearing there was a shooting somewhere will barely make you bat an eye after you live here long enough.

Have you ever used a fake name at Starbucks? No, I don't even go there, though.

What color is your lava lamp? I don't have one, but I wish I did. I'd totally get a pink one.

Who is your favorite Lisa Frank character? I liked the angel kitty, lol. Sometimes I think I might get a Lisa Frank-styled tattoo.

What’s your favorite movie that you remember seeing in the theater? Uh, Logan was really good. Idk if it's been my favorite, but that's one that comes to mind.

Do you know anyone who has ten cats? I can absolutely promise you that my sister's mother-in-law has well past ten. Their yard is littered with cats and even have some inside that have entirely destroyed the upstairs/made it inhabitable. I try so hard to be understanding because growing up MY house was infested with outdoor cats I was so attached to that just kept breeding and breeding, but it's so problematic in multiple ways. Something needs to be done about it.

Have you ever had a cat? ^ Grew up with them, had them most of my life. There was quite a span where we didn't have one until we adopted Roman. <3

Have you ever had a dog? Yeah, a good number.

Have you ever any other kind of animal? Jesus, let's see. Guinea pigs, a Chinese water dragon, briefly an iguana, my sister had a rabbit at one point, rats, mice, gerbils, hamsters, ball pythons, some fish... Maybe more but I don't think so? We've just had a whole lot.

Have you ever had a pet rock? Uh I don't think so.

What were you voted in the senior class polls? I wasn't.

Who was your favorite teacher in high school? Coach Collie, Mrs. Stancil, Mrs. Cruz (who, fun fact, inspired my handwriting lmao, I was in love with hers), and Mrs. Williams.

Do you want to give your kids common names or unique names? Absolutely more towards the unique side, but I'm not against "established" names, either, so long as they're not obnoxiously common.

What collection are you thinking of starting? Rammstein merch laskdjflkajwelr

What are five of your favorite stores at the mall? Hot Topic, Spencer's, uh... maybe rue 21, anddddd... yeah idk.

Do you organize your clothes by color? No.

What do you want to name your first child? I've become pretty confident if I ever have kids and it's a girl, so long as Girt's the dad, it would be Miquella Lynn because I think it goes better with his last name than Alessandra Rose. If I ever have a son, I'd want to name him Damien Vance.

List ten favorite girls names. Alessandra, Evangeline, Justine, Jacqueline, Miquella (okay yeah it's a male's name in Elden Ring but I really like a way that it's mispronounced and to me sounds way more feminine), Chloe, Journee, Evelyn, Day, and uh OH I really like the sound of Amberdene, though it's a name I just made up for a future role-play character.

List ten favorite boys names. Damien, Severin, Vincent, Luther, Victor, Nikolai, Jaxson, uh... I'm out of ideas lol. There are plenty more male names I really like, I'm sure, I'm just blanking right now.

What season do you want to get married in? Autumn.

Is your Pinterest cluttered? Eh, it's relatively orderly. My "fandom" board has become a fuckin disaster though between all the shit I love, lol.

What is your favorite insect? Luna moths are number one, but I in general really love butterflies and moths.

What bugs scare you? FUCKING STAG BEELTES lkajsdkljawer like don't get me wrong, I think they're VERY cool-looking, but I am steering the fuck clear of them. I also don't like hornets and wasps at all. Centipedes are another big no, like I am IMMENSELY thankful big, truly dangerous ones don't live here. Another animal that looks cool as hell, but their bites are the stuff of legends.

Who picked your name, your mom or your dad? Pretty certain my mom.

What are your siblings’ names? Ashley, Nicole, Katie, Bobby, Misty, and Tiffany if you wanna count her.

Have you ever fallen asleep in a significant other's arms? Do you find that you fall asleep faster when accompanied by a significant other? Yes to both. At least, I'm pretty sure yes for the second question.

Do you have a television in your room? If you do, is it one of the old school big ones? Or is it a new flat screen? Nah, I don't watch TV so it would just be excess clutter.

What was your favorite cartoon or television show as a child? What about movie? I was absolutely, utterly obsessed with Pokemon. My favorite movie was The Lion King.

Did you have sleepovers at your friends' houses a lot as a child? Or did your friends come over to your house more often? It was more likely that my friends would sleep at my house because for a good chunk of my childhood, I had terrible separation anxiety from my mom and would end up waking up my friends' moms in the middle of the night to call my mom to come get me, lmao. I eventually got over it though.

Do you have any significantly older siblings? Did they ever treat you as if you were their child? Well yeah, my half-siblings, but they never treated me like a child, never mind theirs.

When opening presents on Christmas or birthdays, do you first try to guess what is in the package? Do you tear the wrap off slowly, or just rip it to shreds? Are you polite no matter what the gift, and say you love it anyways? Nah, I don't guess anymore, and I think I open presents... normally? Idk. And of course I'm polite about it, because it's very generous to get me ANYthing, so I am thankful no matter what.

What happened last time you got drunk? I've never been drunk, just tipsy.

What are you listening to? "Lügen" by Rammstein.

Which parent do you feel the most affection for? My mom, honestly.

How do you feel about God? "If there is a God, He will have to beg for my forgiveness." A quote that reached fame by being found carved in a concentration camp wall. And I will forever agree with it, violently so.

Which platform do you use to listen to music on the most? YouTube.

Who do you care about the most? Honestly probably Girt.

#survey #surveys #random questions #personal questions

[blessednereid]

August

WC: <4100

Mentions: Sexual innuendos, cursing, slut-shaming, Affairs/Adultery, Lying, Deceit

A/N: It’s an AU, basically where James and Lily don’t end up together, and the War ends before they graduate. Snape and Peter don’t become death eaters IG but that doesn’t really matter later on. Unedited, but it’s the last day of August so I gotta get it in NOW.

Pairings: James Potter x Reader, James Potter x Lily Evans, (future) Lily Evans x Reader

~~~

Y/N

*

Salt air

*

You and your boyfriend of two months are sitting on the shoreline of the shared beach near your houses. You’ve lived in the same neighbourhood for as long as you can remember, but never really noticed each other until your formative years. And the chemistry was undeniable, which is what led you to that precise moment.

“Hey, James… What do you think is going to happen when we go away for school?” you ask meekly.

Being a Beauxbaton student is as luxurious as it sounds. You never have to put up with brutish and grotesque boys in pissing contests, and while there may be catty classmates, there’s no fighting over boys. No heartbreak. No major drama.

That being said, that didn’t mean that none of you had boyfriends. You all had your fair share of suitors from Durmstrang or Hogwarts or some other school in the country. And yours was James Potter.

He is the epitome of a perfect boyfriend. He remembers small dates, like the exact day your cat died, and knows exactly what you need.

You don’t think you’ve loved anyone as much as you’ve loved him.

And that’s precisely why you’re so afraid to lose him.

You knew that the long distance between you would be difficult. What started as a summer fling quickly became something more, and James changed from a friend who could make you laugh your guts out to the boy that makes your heart sing.

He has his arms wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, and you know exactly what he’s thinking. The distance isn’t going to change my love for you.

But he doesn’t realize that it’ll change the amount he can express. And that’s going to be frustrating. You’ve only been together for a little while. So how would this even work?

“We just have to trust each other, darling. I love you, and you love me. That’s all that matters.”

“But James-”

“No buts,” he states stoically. “Nothing is going to change this. You just need to trust me, trust that this is going to work.”

James

*

And the rust on your door

*

He had told you exactly what he meant. That he loved you, and that you could trust him. He knew that he loved you, and that love had taken root in the deepest part of his heart. So when he opened the door to Sirius, Remus, and Peter’s room, since he would not be staying here this year, he not only felt excitement for the new year but sheer happiness at the fact that he had found someone who loved him as unconditionally as he loved her. He did feel some remorse that he wouldn’t be staying with his gaggle of mates though.

“Mate, what’s that grin on your face for? Haven’t gotten in any trouble without us, have you?”

Apparently, James’ inner monologue reflected on his face because all his friends were made aware of the grin on his face.

“No, I just…”

He’d managed to keep the relationship a secret from Sirius that summer because you didn’t want the already confusing relationship to be found out by the Wizarding World. For reporters to make it more convoluted and twisted than it actually was.

“I’m just glad to be back,” he says, deciding he needs to discuss with you if he could tell his friends about your relationship just yet.

*

I never needed anything more

*

When he saw Lily in classes the next day, a pang swam through his chest. He didn’t see her yesterday on the train. He wasn’t focusing on that. But now he was. He noticed that her red hair had been cut short to her shoulders and that she appeared much more confident. Her school blouse had the first two buttons popped, showing just the slightest bit of rosy cleavage.

No.

He had promised you that you could trust him, and you could. He knew you could. He was going to be the man that you deserved. Lily was in the past. Lily was a speed bump on his path to finding true love with you.

But why did the way he felt about Lily now feel as strongly as it did before?

And it didn’t help any when she waltzed up to his desk and straightened her arms right in front of his face, pushing out her chest, and making his lust and sexual drive soar. He was sure it was evident. That he’d broken out in a sweat, but he attempted to play it off as cool as an Autumn day.

“Hello James,” she greeted. “How was your summer?”

He gulped. In front of his eyes was a woman, the woman that he had wanted so desperately. He didn’t know her intentions, but he knew his thoughts. And if you could see his thoughts, could hear them… he knew you wouldn’t be pleased. He knew you’d realize that you’d been right in not trusting him. “Summer was fine, Lily-flower. And you? Hang around with Snivelly, any?”

“No, we haven’t talked since the end of last year. But I’m thinking that this is more room for opportunity, to make new friends, see the light, you know?” she grinned and it lit up his heart.

“So, I was talking to Remus, and he told me that I should give you a chance to be one of those new friends,” but the way she said friends implied something more. “And at first, I objected, and then I realized, I never really gave you much light in my eyes. Do you think you could change that, Jamesie?”

And fuck, if that didn’t make his heart race a little.

Lily

*

Whispers of "Are you sure?"

*

Lily and James were kissing passionately and furiously as they stumbled into her bedroom. Since becoming head girl, she had gotten her own dorm room. James had also gotten one, but Lily didn’t want to see how messy that room was.

She moved her hands from in between their two bodies and picked up her wand to cast several different nonverbal charms.

When she was done, she pushed James down onto the bed and began tearing off her clothes. And then his. When she was done and they were lying beside each other he muttered a final “are you sure?” to her, and she nodded. He kissed her with ferocious passion until the kiss became something more.

This happened again, again, again.

*

"Never have I ever before"

*

When James left Lily’s room for the fourth time that month, she pressed two fingers to her lips in reaction to his goodbye kiss.

“I’ve never felt this way about James. About anyone,” she thought.

He made her feel alive, he made her grin, he made her giggle, and he made her heart flutter when he was around her. Of course, she knew this when she approached him. She just didn’t think it would escalate to this level so soon.

She wants to shout to the world the way she feels about him, the way he makes her feel. How he can take her breath away and make her feel like the most important and most special girl on the planet.

Like she was made just and entirely for him, and that the same applied for him to her.

She couldn’t stop her wild dreams, the ones of vivid love and passion, the ones where he would kiss her, take her hand, and profess his love in grand displays. Where he’d fight for her and never leave her.

Fantasy and delusion never left her mind when it came to him.

*

Your back beneath the sun

*

He and she both lie underneath the sun, soaking up its rays, sharing its warmth, staring at the clouds trying to make out certain shapes.

It was a sunny December day, which was rare, so they were getting as much out of it as they could.

“James, we should study,” she lightly approached the devastating topic. “It’s not like I really want to, but what kind of example are we setting as head boy and girl?”

“Well, If we go back up to our dorms, nobody will know if we’re studying or doing something else,” he said with a wriggle of eyebrows.

“No, James!” she laughs, and he joins her. His pearly teeth both ensnaring her mind and rendering her unable to focus on anything but him.

“When’s the next Hogsmeade trip?” he asked casually while he laid back down with his head facing the sky.

“Most likely before the holidays.”

She saw his face contort when she mentioned the Christmas break.

“James, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, I’m just thinking about… the war.” His face was pale, and his face sour.

“I’m thinking of joining the order after I graduate, but it’s still scary, you know. I’m worried about my mum and dad.”

“Your parents are going to be fine, James,” she assured him, but she knew he would be fully relieved until the war was over and all death eaters were locked up.

*

Wishin' I could write my name on it

*

She was sitting with Remus in the library when he brought up James. Let the record show that he brought up James, not her.

“So, how is everything going with James?”

She sighed lightly. “It’s magic, Remus. Pun intended.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad you feel that way, Lily. Really, he’s a good guy once you get past that facade he puts on. I knew you’d like him.”

“Yes,” she says faintly. Doubts flood her head about his own feelings.

“What’s wrong, Lily?”

Her eyes turn down to her paper before reaching up again to meet his. “It’s silly, but… sometimes I wonder if he truly feels the same. I mean, most people don’t harbour feelings for one person for this long. What if all along it was just lust, and he’ll cast me away now that he’s satisfied that urge.”

“Lily, I promise you, James has had eyes for no one but you for many years. I highly doubt that it was lust, James isn’t like that.”

“You know,” she smiled. “You’re right. I just wish this didn’t have to be kept so hush-hush. The amount of girls I see fawning over him is grotesque.”

“So then ask him,” he pushed.

She took that as a challenge. “Alright. I will!”

*

The next time Lily saw James, they immediately rolled into bed and did what lovers do. But after that is when she posed the question.

“James, would we- will we ever be able to make this public?” she asked in a stern voice.

She saw thoughts swimming in his head for a moment.

“Lily,” he rolled onto his side. “We- I… This needs to be a secret for now. I mean, we are waist-deep into this war, and with my plans to go into the order, I can’t risk anyone coming after you.”

His logic made sense to her, and the wizarding world would get too caught up with the son of a prestigious wizard family being with a muggle-born in the middle of all of this.

He was right, she just had to swallow her jealousy for now.

*

Will you call when you’re back at school

*

The next week, there was a Hogsmeade trip, and despite them staying near the Marauders, really, it was a date for James and Lily. Or at least that’s what it felt like. An unofficial date.

They bought each other gifts to open over the holidays, kissed discreetly under mistletoes, and held hands while walking through the village.

When they went to get butterbeer for the rest of the group, there was a long but comfortable silence for a while.

“So what are you doing for the holidays?”

“Just going back home, maybe making some treats with my mum,” he said casually. “What about you?”

“Same as you, I guess. I’ll miss you, though.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

She tapped her foot absentmindedly as they waited. “What if I came with you?”

“What?” Panic flooded his face. “No, you couldn’t come with me, I’m afraid. My house is an Order safe place. If a death eater found it, you could be in danger.”

“You’re in danger just being there.”

“And you’re in danger by just breathing, Lily! That would be a double danger. I’m not risking that.”

She cringed at her sudden need to be close to him. “Right, sorry. It was a silly idea. A mindless thought.”

His face softened when he saw her embarrassment. “I’d love to bring you home, Lily, but it’s not safe.” But by now she could tell that he was lying, there was something more.

*

I remember thinkin' I had you

*

On the train back from London going to Hogwarts, Lily sat with Marlene and Dorcas, she hadn't seen them quite as much as she would’ve wanted since the school year started, and now was the perfect opportunity.

Lily felt remorse and guilt for not telling her friends about such a crucial part of her life, her relationship with James Potter, and truly she wanted to, but what if they judged her? And Marlene has had a reputation for having a loudmouth. What if she said something and word got out?

They conversed in idle gossip before an interesting topic was brought up. One that left Lily infuriated, and ready to murder a smug bastard.

“Have you heard about Potter and that Beauxbaton girl?”

Her eyes raised in curiosity and scorn. “What Beauxbaton girl?”

Dorcas revealed as much as she knew about you to Lily, your name, family, status in the Wizarding World. By the time she was done, Lily was struck with disbelief.

“And you’re sure they were kissing?” she said in response to Marlene’s information about the article in the Daily Prophet with a picture of them kissing.

“Yes!” she exclaimed.

“I have the article right here,” Dorcas mentioned.

“Way to bury the lead.”

“Oh shush,” she said and handed Lily the newspaper out of her bag.

She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The man she had been with for the past four months was kissing another woman. With Tongue.

“Well, that’s fantastic for him,” she said sourly. “He must feel so proud to have gotten a pretty girlfriend after pining after me for so long. I wonder how long it’ll be before he tries pining after me again,”

“Who knows, maybe it is serious,” Dorcas proposed.

Lily growled. “I don’t think it’s that serious if he’s sleeping with another woman.”

Marlene’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean-”

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” she said before exiting the cabin of the train and heading to find James Potter.

“So,” she said when she reached his compartment. “How long have you been seeing her?”

James looked shocked to see her. “Lily, I can explain.”

“Can you? Please explain then. Is this why I couldn’t come with you? Why you had to keep us a secret James? For Godric’s sake, how long have you been seeing her?”

He gulped. “Since the summer.” Even Sirius looked shocked.

“I lived in your house, and you didn’t tell me, mate?”

“Not the time,” Peter chastised.

“Are you serious James? You spouted all of that you love me bullshit when you were with someone else?” Her eyes radiated anger. It was like staring into the mouth of an actively-fire-breathing dragon. “Does she know about me?”

“No, she doesn’t,” he admitted.

Lily said one more sentence before stalking away. “Well, you better tell her, or I will.”

*

But I can see us lost in the memory

*

Lily had no intention of telling you anything. She didn’t even know you. How would she send an owl to a total stranger and tell them that their boyfriend has been cheating on them with herself?

Lily never set out to be a homewrecker. But she didn’t even know she was wrecking a home, to begin with.

This was James’ fault, and he was going to own up to it.

Besides, It deserved to come from him. Lily knew how she felt about being told that she was the other woman from some outside source, and she didn’t want to do that to anyone at all.

But not even the sting of betrayal could mask the ever-flowing sadness that emanated from Lily. She truly believed he was in love. And maybe he was. Just not with her. And that was okay, but she didn’t deserve what she was put through.

Still, that doesn’t stop the fact that she, herself, was in love with him, and how is she supposed to ever get over that betrayal.

*

August slipped away into a moment in time- 'Cause it was never mine

*

Within the next few months, Lily had fallen into a rut. Her grades began slipping, her mood and cheeriness faltered. Even though the Wizarding World War had recently been won, with death-eaters being locked away, that didn’t change her mood, because she wasn’t in the mood to celebrate, to begin with. Her friends noticed her down-in-the-dumps aura, and despite knowing the cause, and how it wasn’t their fault, they couldn’t help but want to help her, to fix her.

But no one could repair the damage that James Potter caused to Lily but Lily herself. And that started with making amends.

“I have to send a follow-up letter to that girl. So I’ll ask you. Have you told her yet?” She cornered James in the library because, despite Head Boy and Head Girl duties, they didn’t see each other much. After all, he was avoiding her as much as she was avoiding him.

He gulped, “I haven’t. Lily, I can’t tell her. It would kill her, she was so worried about the distance and when she saw me at Christmas break, she was so happy. I don’t want to ruin that.”

“You should’ve thought about that before you started an affair with me, James. An affair I didn’t agree to. I didn’t want to be anybody's mistress. And she deserves to know, and I am going to send her a letter. Today! So if you don’t tell her, she will find out from me. I’ve given you months.”

“Lily, don’t do this. Please. I can’t tell her over an owl. It has to be in person.”

She faltered. He was right. His heart may have been in the wrong place, but his head is in the right one. Doing that, telling you over an owl could have devastating consequences. It was a discussion that had to be had in person.

“Easter Break. That is your chance, James Potter. After that, If you don’t I will.”

She turned on her heel and was about to leave the library when he grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“Lily, you have to understand, I never meant to hurt you,” he said. “I have fancied you for so long, and when you finally reciprocated this year, I didn’t want to pass up that chance. I was wrong. You are so amazing, and I shouldn’t have done what I did, but please believe this. You deserve so much, and I couldn’t and could never give that to you, but when I did this, I never meant to hurt anyone. I didn’t think it would go this far.”

She scoffed. “Well, it did, James. You hurt me. You betrayed me, and you betrayed her. Neither of us deserved that, no matter what.”

*

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

*

Guilt twisted in her stomach every time she thought of you. Jealousy was surely a stage at first, everything about you had her enchanted, your hair, your eyes, your glowing skin. She was enthralled, and she could see why James was too.

And then she remembered his nights in her dorm, on her bed. Tossing and turning with her, his lips on her mouth, and she didn’t feel envy. She felt regret and culpability. If she had pressed James harder about whether his feelings really were the same as before, if he’d really wanted to do this, maybe he wouldn’t have done it.

And then she wouldn’t be in this position, and you wouldn’t be about to come crash-landing on impact with this heavy, and taboo truth.

But this wasn’t about her, Lily realized. This was about you. And how you were going to feel once James told you what happened when the train meets the station, and that is all Lily can think of as she sits on her bed, staring out of her window. When her owl knocks on the window to deliver her mail, the headline of the Daily Prophet is what catches her eye. “The Prodigal son in an affair with a Muggleborn witch!” It goes on and on about how a secret inside source heard an argument between the two of them in the Hogwarts library.

There is no doubt that you have seen this, and James didn’t get to tell you. Lily didn’t get to apologize to you. This just got a whole lot worse, and Lily didn’t know how she was going to deal with the sudden turn of events.

James is the villain here, she reminded herself. James is in the wrong, but she knew that she was still an unwitting accomplice. And her gut wrenched as she pondered on that very true fact.

*

August slipped away like a bottle of wine

*

Lily had to get away from the wizarding world, so although she didn’t plan on going home for the Easter holiday, she had to now.

She was being shamed for her insidious relationship with James, by certain people, mostly Snape and his friends, that bastard. Most everyone was supportive, they realized she had no idea about your relationship, but she was still worried about what you’d say to James, but more about what’d you’d say about her.

Had James told you that she didn’t know? That he lied to both of you. Would you be mad at her either way?

Shame pulsed through her body, and she couldn’t imagine what her mother would say when she told her if she ever did.

Though when she got home, her mother instantly noticed that something was wrong.

Knowing she couldn’t take her mothers knowing stares and hard gaze, she instantly confessed to everything that happened over the semester. Her mother didn’t judge her for having premarital sex as Lily thought she would, but rather comforted her daughter and reassured her. “If James is a half-decent person, he will tell her that you did nothing wrong, and she won’t be mad at you, Lily dear.”

Her mother's reassurance helped, but her rose bush of worry wouldn’t be clear of its thorns until she spoke with you.

*

'Cause you were never mine

*

When the break was over, and Lily was about to board the train station to the red engine that is the Hogwarts Express, someone was waiting for her at the door to the train.

“My train doesn’t arrive until later,” you say plainly. “I wanted to get here earlier though, to speak with you.”

Lily feels like she’s breaking out in hives under your eyes, and it’s not a good feeling.

“James told me about how you didn’t know about me, how you wanted him to tell me sooner, didn’t want me to find out from tabloids like you did.” You smiled at her.

“It really hurt me when I found out. I didn’t want you to feel that way, but you still deserved to know. I’m just sorry you found out like that anyway.”

“James already boarded the train, but I wanted to let you know we’re no longer together if you still wanted to be with him,” you said meekly.

Lily’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “Godric, no! He’s a git.”

You laughed.

“I know we may not be able to be friends, but maybe it’ll be better if we work through all of this together, all three of us,” Lily proposed.

“Yes, individually, dually, all together, doesn’t matter, it needs to be resolved.”

Lily sighed a breath of relief. “Somehow, I feel lighter.”

“Me too.”

As Lily was about to board the train, you called out to her. “Lily!”

She whipped her head to face you. “We can be friends if you’d like, you know.”

That made Lily smile, and honestly, it made her heart bloom with a vague, but familiar feeling.

#James Potter x reader #James Potter x Lily evans #James Potter imagines #James Potter angst #Lily Evans angst #Mauraders angst #Lily evans fluff #Lily Evans x reader

[sherrybaby14]

The Acceptance

This is my submission for @darkmcuficswap​  @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ Holiday swap!  My giftee is  @opheliadawnwalker3​. I hope you enjoy hun!

Summary:  After a holiday gone terribly wrong you face a decision with the new year. 

Holiday:  New Year's/Halloween 

Warnings:  Non Con (PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS OFFENDS YOU), SMUT, kidnapping, alcohol.  

****I have chosen not to warn for everything, please READ AT OWN RISK****

Words: 4000

Pairing:  Stucky x reader

December 31st 

The snow captivated you, tiny white flakes drifting down, landing without fear on the cold ground.  You pinched your eyes shut and bit your lip, wishing you were one of them, free to fall away from this place.  

A knock sounded on the door, but you didn’t turn away from the window.  The wood opened, the knock only a formality, you had no privacy anymore.  Not here.  Not with them.  

“I brought you something special to wear tonight.”  Steve’s voice used to sound like nails on a chalkboard, you missed those days when you would claw at him, scream, try to find a weapon.  The fight in you was burning out with the end of the year.  “I hope you’ll wear your makeup and hair to fit the look.”

There was a warning in his voice.  You dropped your chin in a nod.  He approached you from behind, but you didn’t tense as his hands touched your shoulders.  

“Good girl.”  He placed a kiss on the top of your head.  “If you behave we can have a lot of fun tonight.  All of us.  I promise Doll.”  

“If...if I’m good enough will you let me go?”  You turned and looked at Steve with hope that dashed away as soon as you saw the anger in his eyes.  “To the pool tomorrow?  I want to swim some laps.”  

A smile crept on Steve’s face.  You used to think of him as a symbol of American pride and righteousness, but now all you could see was the wickedness he hid.  

“I think your muscles will be plenty sore after tonight.”  He dropped his hands to your waist and pulled you closer.  “That was a nice attempt at covering the question though, but you know I can’t let that go unpunished.  Would you like to learn your lesson now or ruin our festivities later?”  

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”  Tears spilled as you buried your head into his chest.  “Please, let’s have a good night.  I’ll be good I promise.”  

“Shhhh.”  Steve rubbed your back as you fisted his shirt, terrified of what he had in mind.  You felt his cock harden underneath his jeans, pressing to your stomach with the hug.  “No punishment, but make it up to me right now?”  

Steve’s hands slid up your shoulders and he applied a bit of pressure.  You nodded your head and locked eyes with him as you dropped to your knees.  

He pulled his cock out and you wasted no time taking him into your mouth, flicking your tongue as you gathered saliva to take him deeper.   

“There is no leaving here Doll.”  Steve’s fist found your hair as he started to work with your movements.  “And certainly not for good behavior.  I thought you were starting to understand?”

He let out a grunt and you worked his cock faster, reaching between his legs to fondle his balls as his pants slipped down his thighs.  

“You are so good.  You are the best.  Even when you’re bad, you’re too much fun to ever let go.”  Steve pushed your head down hard and you fought off the gag.  “I bet you’re soaked right now, sucking my cock this way.  Just a pool between your legs?  Once you stop fighting that and admit how happy you are, instead of asking for a swim asking me to fuck you?  Then you might get permission to go, but you’ll never leave because by then you will realize this is where you belong.”  

You squeezed your legs together and hated it that he was right.  You were dripping.  You looked up at him with begging eyes.  He nodded and you wrapped your body around his leg, straddling his shin you began to hump him while you continued sucking, taking him deeper and keeping pace with your mouth.  

“Fucking beautiful Doll.”  Steve bit his lip.  “Speed up because I’m going to finish.” 

You started to pant as you ground against him, trying to give your clit the pressure and action it needed to send you over the edge while drool ran down your chin. You pressed your tongue hard on the underside of his cock, taking him in with deep strokes.  

Your eyes pinched shut, but his hand grabbed your face and you popped them open.  Never look away when you cum. He glared at you with the intensity only he had and you exploded around his legs, bits of pleasure making you shake as your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest.  

Steve let out a moan and his dick expanded in your mouth before his seed shot to the back of your throat.  You flicked your tongue and sucked in your cheeks, knowing better than to let a drop spill.  

“Fuck Doll.”  Steve pulled out and tucked himself a way.  “You are amazing.”  

He lifted his leg and you cringed, all too aware of the wet spot on his jeans.  

“Don’t worry about it, I’m going to dress nicer tonight anyway.”  He kissed the top of your head.  “Be ready in three hours.”

You slumped on the floor as he left the room.  Your naked body recovering from the orgasm, almost upset it wasn’t more intense.  You liked it better when it came from a cock.  Your thoughts made you cringe. 

You were so used to being naked all the time it didn’t even register any more, and the thought about liking the more intense orgasms?   

“What the fuck is wrong with you.”  You looked back out to the snow, wondering if you could piece together where it had all gone wrong. 

~~

July

“I hate New York.”  You plopped down on the park bench next to your friend and pulled out your sandwich.  “I’m leaving the city as soon as I can.”  

“You’ve only been here six months.”  She laughed and handed you a pop.  “And you met me right? There’s something positive.” 

“I know.” You gave a frown. “I just thought I would get lost in a sea of people, maybe discover myself, but what I’m discovering is I hate crowds, I don’t like my job, and I always feel like someone is watching me.”  

“Like a guardian angel?”  

“No.”  You shook your head. “Like someone is going to jump out of the bushes and grab me.  I miss small town middle of nowhere life.  Not cut out for the city.”  

“Don’t give up yet.”  She touched your arm.  A loud SNAP came from the treeline and both of your heads whipped in that direction.  “Jesus.”  

She started to laugh first and then you joined in.  

“Come over tonight.  We can find you a new job, it’s the land of opportunity.”  

“Alright.”  You agreed mainly because you didn’t want to be alone.  

Your friend continued chatting but your eye’s couldn’t stop looking toward the bushes.  

~~

August

“I love New York.”  You grinned as you sat down next to your friend.  

“You got the job?”  She beamed at you.  

“I have no idea how or why, but yes.  You’re looking at the newest employee of Stark Enterprises.”  You kicked your knees up and punched the air.  “I mean, it’s a work from home gig, I have no office at the towers, I’m not going to meet the Avengers or anything, but the pay is good and the benefits are nice.  Maybe in a few months I’ll have enough to live in a safer neighborhood.”  

“Still getting stalker vibes?”  

“Big time.  I swear I felt someone breathing on my neck the other night.”  You touched the spot.  “I about sprinted home, but now I’ll never have to leave my apartment.”  

“I’m glad you’re calling it home.”  She gave you a nudge.  “And you will have to leave your apartment!  How else are you going to see me?  Let’s go out tonight and celebrate.”  

“Okay.”  You smiled. 

“Wow, you must be in a good mood, I don’t know that I’ve ever gotten you out after dark.  I was starting to think you were a vampire.”  

“I’m a morning person. No clubs, no bars, no crowds, maybe a nice dinner?”  You shrugged.  

“How are you ever going to meet someone if you don’t do anything social?”  She sighed at you.  “We’re going to a club.  Look nice.  I’ll pick you up at nine.”  

You wanted to object, but you rolled your eyes. Knowing nothing could make you turn her down.  A rock came out of nowhere and hit a pole ten feet from you, the clang making both of you jump.  

“Weird.”  You scanned the treeline but didn’t notice anything but the wind shaking a few bushes.    

“I’m going to call my friend Jonathan.  He will have a hot place to go.”  Your friend was oblivious to the strange happening.  

~~

The club was loud and you felt underdressed.  You watched your friend dance away with a stranger and admired her courage, she looked stunning and you looked like you blended in with the wall.  

“Can I buy you a drink?”  A voice yelled in your ear.  

You turned to see a decent looking man, nothing too special, but nothing threatening.  

“I’m good.”  You shook the full drink in your hand.  

“Bartender, two shots or your strongest stuff.”  The guy held up his fingers.  

“I really, I don’t take shots with strangers. Thank you though.”  You started to walk away but he reached out and grabbed your arm.  

“Come on, don’t be lame.”  The liquid was being poured into the glasses and your stomach turned at the sight.  “Take a drink with me.”  

Your heart rate went through the roof.  You hated saying no almost as much as you hated being grabbed.  Your lips parted as you tried to think about how to respond.  The internal struggle of obedience mixed with the anger about his hand on you.   

Before you could respond the man dropped away.  Someone stepped into the middle of you and pushed the man.  

“The lady said no.”  Was all you could make out over the roar of the club.  

The first guy tried to punch the second, but he grabbed his fist and crumbled it.  You looked at the scene in horror, clutching your purse.  

Violence, alcohol, music, your head began to spin.  You turned and walked outside, feeling a panic coming on.   The heat of the evening hit your face and you climbed into the nearest taxi, texting your friend as you got a ride home, vowing never to test the New York nightlife again.

~~

September

“We’re going to have to stop having lunch on park benches soon.”  You patted the puffer vest you were wearing.   

“About that,” she took a deep breath. “I didn’t know how to break it to you, but we’re going to have to stop having lunches altogether.”  

“What?”  Your eyes went wide.  “You’re joking right?  You’re like my only friend in the world.”  

“Out of the blue, a recruiter offered me this dream position.”  She turned and grabbed your hands.  “The pay is amazing and that’s not even the best part, it’s like the job was tailor made for me, but it’s in Paris.”  

“Paris?!?!”  Your jaw dropped. 

“We can facetime and you can visit?”  She was having a hard time hiding the glee that matched the despair you were feeling.  

“Congratulations.  I’m so happy for you.”  You smiled, not wanting to ruin her moment, hating New York again.  

~~

October 31

You taped shut the last of the moving boxes.  It was sad seeing your entire life packed up, unable to notice how small the stack was.  All the furniture came with the apartment, you weren’t much of a shopper and never got around to getting that cat.  

Your phone rang and you recognized your boss’s phone number, picking up right away.  

“Hello, Mr. Jones, I’m all packed up.”  You set the last box down.  

“Good, good.  The moving van will be there tomorrow early, we’re looking forward to you joining our team.”  His voice sounded oddly familiar, but you kept brushing it off.  “And you’re still coming to the party tonight?”  

“About that.”  You hit your laptop’s button and saw the invitation.  “I’m really not much of a party person, and I never got around to getting a costume.”  

“I was clear when I offered you the promotion.  We’re a small R&D team, we work very closely.  It is important you bond with us.  People are expecting you, costume and all.”  His tone was almost scolding.  

“Well, we’re going to be living together.  I’m sure there’s plenty of time.  I’d rather get settled first.”  You almost turned the promotion down because of that fact, but then you looked into Stark Corp’s R&D, a team of 100 people who worked around the clock, if you put in a year there you were golden.  It was impossible to turn down even if it did involve living in some town upstate.  

“The car is picking you up in an hour.  You will be here in five.  If you don’t have a costume, then dress nice.  People are looking forward to meeting you.” He paused.  “I am looking forward to having you.”  

“Alright.”  You told yourself you heard him wrong before hanging up the phone.  

There was something off about the situation.  Like you wished you had someone to tell where you were going to stay for the next year.  You hadn’t spoken to your friend since the Paris move, and there was really nobody else in your life to tell.  The foster parents you hadn’t spoken to in years?  The ex who broke your heart?  The former best friend he slept with?  Maybe the crazy old lady down the hall?  

 With a tap of the keys you pulled up the email from “Tony Stark'' offering you the position. This was a top level fortune 500 company.  There was nothing to worry about.  You were being paranoid and needed to accept that your dream was coming true.  

~~

This car felt too important for you.  The driver was friendly, but you ran out of things to say an hour ago.  You glanced at your phone, noting that you were getting close.  Then you noticed a no service bar in the corner.  

“I’ll have to get a new plan.”  You tried to call a random number and got nothing. “No service.”  

“No, this is a top secret area.”  The driver turned and smiled at you. “No service from any provider.  Nothing surrounding the house for 10 miles in any direction, even then it's only a few hunting cabins. Most are abandoned.  You must be a very special lady to make the team.”  

“I don’t know much about the team, only what the website said, and Mr. Jones of course.”  You didn’t think of the isolation when you accepted.  

“Tony had the area declared a no fly zone by the US Government.”  The driver tapped the wheel.  “If you look to your left soon you’ll see the fence.  It’s impenetrable.”  

Tony? The driver must be high up if that was how he referred to Stark. Your thoughts were distracted when you saw the metal and the wiring shine in the distance.  

“This place looks like Jurassic Park.”  The driver slowed as the gate opened ahead.  “I’m starting to think I’ll get kicked out in a week.”  

Anxiety flooded you, you weren’t ready for this.  You’d worked there what? A few months?  You weren’t this smart, what could you contribute?  

“Don’t worry,  I have it on good authority you’re perfect for the role.”  The driver grinned, it was so genuine and infectious you smiled back and your nerves calmed.  

“I understand why people call you Happy.”  You relaxed.  “It fits.”  

“So I’ve been told.”  He looked back to the road.  “I probably won’t see you again, it was a pleasure driving you though.  I’m sure Mr. Rogers will take good care of you.”  

“Rogers?”  You raised an eyebrow.  

“Whatever generic name you want to use, Smith, Mason, Miller, Brown.  They’ll assign you one too.”  Happy shrugged.  “You’re a VIP now.”  

A wave of stupidity washed over you.  It never occurred to you that pseudonyms were being used.    

The house started to come into view.  You grabbed the headrests and moved forward.  It was a mansion, almost a castle.  The place was modern, as if it was made with black glass somehow.  

“This is bigger than a football stadium.”  You had to crane your neck to see up.  

“Just a house Miss.”  Happy pulled into the drive.  “Nothing you can’t handle.”  

He put the car in park and winked at you.  All your nerves were calmed, this was perfect.  Your dream come true.  You were picturing a college dorm situation, but one thousand people could live here, let alone one hundred.  

“Thank you.”  You opened the door to the car as Happy left and went for the trunk.  

You started to stand when something fell off your lap, you chuckled to yourself, your nerves being replaced with excitement as you put on the witch’s hat.  A simple accessory that turned your black dress into a costume.   

There was a warmth growing in you as you walked up the massive steps, taking in the building in the night sky, almost some primal feeling telling you that you were home. 

Happy pushed open the door and set your bag down.  You followed after, entering a great hall, you were beaming ready to meet your new team, but your smile faded when you saw it was empty.  

“Where is everyone?”  You looked at the staircases that wound up to either side, the  echo of your voice giving you an empty feeling. 

“You got her here in one piece?”  Mr. Jones’ voice boomed across the bricks.  

“As promised.”  Happy shrugged.  

“And she wore a costume?”  A new voice made you look to the other stairwell.  

Your brain tried to register the voices with the faces, but the faces took over.  

“Steve Rogers and James Barnes?”  Avengers. Real ones.  You kept looking back and forth.  “What?  How important is this place?”  

You didn’t know whether to thank them for all they had done for the world or question whether you deserved to be on this team.  

“Now that you’re here Doll, it’s the most important place in the world.”  They both arrived at the bottom at the same time.  

“My cue to leave, have a nice night gentlemen.”  Happy sounded so distant as the door shut behind him.  

“I’m,  my name is,  this is so embarrassing.”  You let out a laugh as you brought your hand to your chest.  “I didn’t think I would be meeting Avengers.”  

They walked toward you, both of them as if they were circling you.  

“We know your name Doll.”  Captain America reached out and touched your chin.  

You backed up and ran into the Winter Soldier.  

“We know everything about you.”  The brunette’s hands slid down your arms and stopped at your wrists.  “I’ve been waiting for this for months.”  

He placed a kiss on your neck and you started to step forward, but ran right into Captain, who again touched your chin, this time with a little more force.  

“What?”  You didn’t know what else to say.  

“It was getting too difficult to stay away..”  Steve pressed his forehead to yours.  “Welcome home Love.” 

“I’ve…sorry, what?”  James’ tongue slid up your neck and you gasped, Steve used the opportunity to slide his own into your mouth.  

You were so confused, but reacted on instinct, trying to raise your hands to shove Steve away only to be met with a tighter grip on your wrists by the man behind you. 

Steve let out a chuckle while continuing to kiss you as his hands found your breasts.  He kneaded them as your brain tried to catch up with your body, his fingers finding your nipples through the material of your dress, you let out a squeal as he gave a pinch.  

“Remember, I won the bet.”  James’ teeth grazed your neck as Steve stopped the kiss.  “She wore a costume.”  

Steve scowled as he walked away from you.   

“What’s happening?”  You tried to fight the fog.  “Where am I?”  

“You’re home.”  Steve walked toward a chair and then sat down, you were too busy watching him you didn’t realize a wrist had been freed until the sound of your zipper going down snapped you back to reality.  

Instead of trying to run you attempted to hold the garment up.  Anger flashed on Captain America’s eyes as the Winter Soldier tore the entire thing away.  

“No clothes.  None.  I wanted her naked all the time.”  Steve reached into his pants and pulled his cock out.  

You whimpered at the sight, he was large.  Wait what?  You were too concentrated on the wrong thing and you didn’t notice your bra sliding down your arms.  You started to turn around to shove James away, but he used your motion to flip you over his shoulder and run down the hall.  

SMACK!  His hand hit with your ass as you bobbed over his shoulder, too shocked to really react.  You lifted your head to see the witch hat on the stone floor.   

“I’m so proud of you for wearing the costume.”  The man dropped you, but before you hit the floor his hand was on your back, laying you down on a fur rug. “But I’ve been proud of you for months.  My girl.”  

You tried to spin to your stomach and wiggle away, but he placed a cold hand around your neck, not tight but enough to pin you in place as you shoved at his shoulders.  

“It’s why I get the honor of fucking you first.” His other hand found your panties and shredded them with ease.  “Steve didn’t think you’d listen, but I know what a good girl you are.  How perfect.  Our good girl.”

“Stop rubbing it in Bucky.”  Steve’s voice made you arch your neck to see him sitting in a chair, stroking himself.  

A finger ran up your slit and your attention went back to Bucky as you gasped.  

“She’s soaked.”  He looked up at Steve with a grin.

Everything came flooding down at once and you let out a scream as you renewed your struggles.  The men laughed.  

“At least give me a show while I tell our new teammate about her position.”  Steve dropped to his knees.  

Hands were on you as if they had practiced it, James moving to his back so his legs were in front of you while Steve guided you up so you were facing him.  The sound of a zipper came again and you felt Bucky’s cock brush against your thighs as Captain America positioned you.  

“We like to keep an eye on our people.” Steve spoke as Bucky’s hands grabbed your legs and moved you so your entrance was right about his rigid cock. “And we’ve been watching you for some time now.”  

Metal and flesh fingers were on your waist while Steve’s hands went to your shoulders, pushing you down.  You moaned as Bucky’s thick head slid inside with more ease than you were aware.   

Everything was happening too fast. You struggled to breathe, unsure what to focus on: the cock sliding inside of you or the information being displayed. 

  You pictured the park, the feeling of a stalker, the fight in the club, the dream job, the better job, your friend’s Paris position.  

“That’s good Doll.”  Steve licked his lips. “That understanding.  You knew.  You always knew, but you kept inviting us in.”  

“She feels so fucking good.”  Bucky lifted his ass while you continued to lower on his cock, feeling it hit your cervix you let out a cry.  “She was made for us.”  

“You craved us, didn’t you?”  Steve cupped your face as Bucky began to fuck you.  “You knew what this was. Admit it?”  

You didn’t understand anything. You knew nothing.  

“No, stop that.”  Steve pressed his lips to yours while Bucky dug his fingers into your hips, making you bounce on him.  “I see the struggle in your eyes.  Stop denying the truth.”  

You moaned as Bucky began to make your pussy quake, a coil tightening in your stomach.  

“Let her struggle.” Bucky groaned as he held you down, rocking his cock back and forth.  “We’ll guide her down the right path.”  

“I...I...don’t.”  You thought you might have been trying to say no, but your body was being taken over, your mind losing control.  

“Oh you do Doll.”  Steve brought his thumb to your mouth and you parted your lips as he dragged it along your tongue.  “You know.  You know this is what you need. It’s been almost a year since you came, you don’t even touch yourself.” 

Your eyes went wide with that personal information.  

“We know everything.”  Steve lowered his wet thumb.  “Never lie to us, because we know.”  

You cried out as he pressed his digit to your clit, rubbing in circles with such pressure as James railed into you.  

There was no warning as you came, your body shaking.  Your vision blackened, making you collapse against Steve, shivers sending you to another dimension.  Bucky bottomed out, joining you, contracting and filling you with his cum.  

“Wait.”  You didn’t lift your head, too lost for such a simple task.  You didn’t get what was happening, but you knew one thing for sure.  “I’m not on birth control.”  

“Oh yes you are.”  Bucky hit your ass with a smack as he lifted you off of him. 

Steve spun to the carpet, replacing Bucky’s cock with his own as he cradled you to his chest.  You moaned while he filled your over sensitive pussy once again.   

“For a few months now.”  Steve left your chest pressed to his while he lifted his hips, his pelvis gracing your clit with every thrust.  “You have nothing to worry about now Doll.  You’re home.”  

~~~

December 31

You hated your naivety, you hated what they had put you through. But what you hated most of all was the denial. 

The denial that you liked it.  You loved the way they knew what was best, the way they punished you, the way they rewarded you, the way your life had stability for this first time.  

When the knock sounded on your door you said goodbye to the snowflakes at the window.  Maybe you were more like them than you wanted to admit, they would melt someday and you had to accept that you already had.  

You turned to see Bucky and Steve walk in wearing Tuxedos.  They both frowned that you weren’t wearing the beautiful dress Steve brought you, but no doubt confused by the time you spent getting your makeup and hair ready.  Rolling your shoulders back you accepted your fate. 

“Will you please fuck me?”  

#steve rogers x reader #bucky x reader #stucky x reader #marvel #marvel fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

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***

The Catalyst

December 2009

During her fourth and final year at Townbridge, Nora is hardened. She spent her summer reviewing her college applications in between shifts at the beach, picking through each individual essay and making sure her grades were the highest they could be.

Nora was sick of small towns. Newport would always be home, but with growing up comes the all-encompassing need to find a new home somewhere else—which was why Nora was applying for schools in New York City. A place where she can start over without the stinging burn of high school rumors following her every step.

Luckily, Nora still had Lydia and Margot and a few other girls on the swim team, and that was all she really needed at the start of her final year. She didn’t even look at Harry and his friends in the hallways, and whenever they would snicker behind her back or approach her if they were feeling bold, Nora would just spin on her heel and completely ignore them, similar to the way they treated her at the beginning of her first year. And when she would share a classroom with Harry for their AP classes, she would make sure to sit in the back corner of the room where she couldn’t feel his lingering gaze on her frame.

On her eighteenth birthday, Lydia and a few girls took Nora out to dinner at Margot’s family’s restaurant on the water in East Lyme. They paid for her meal and took pictures out on the docks by the ocean and it was the happiest Nora had felt all year at Townbridge.

Nora was riding that high all the way up until Christmas break where she was actually excited to go home and spend the Holidays with her mother. But just like most things in her life, Nora’s high came crashing down when her mother informed her that she couldn’t come home for break, leaving her to spend her ten-day vacation away from school completely alone in the empty halls of Townbridge.

“I’m so sorry, Nora. Mrs. Clemonte is really sick and Warren is already on his way to Aspen with Willy. I can’t just leave her alone! Especially during Christmastime. Please don’t hate me,” her mother grievously said through the speaker of Nora’s brand new LG Rumor cell phone.

“I could never hate you, mom,” Nora replied honestly, curled up in her comforter on her twin bed on the eve before her mother was meant to pick her up from school.

“You’ll be okay though, right? Other students will be staying on campus with you?” Nora could sense her mother’s worry from over one hundred miles away, and before Shannon could hear her daughter sniffling through the phone, Nora took a deep breath and convinced her that she’ll be fine—even if she wasn’t completely sure of it herself.

In all honesty, Nora wasn’t even certain if any students stayed on campus during break, considering her classmates usually booked trips to Aspen or Vail or the fucking Swiss Alps for all she knows. So after confirming with her guidance counselor that the facilities will be open and she’ll be safe to walk around the practically barren campus, Nora’s shocked that the first person she runs into is none other than Harry Styles.

Nora had to blink a few times in the entryway of the dining hall to make sure that the figure hunched over the wooden table sipping a porcelain cup of tea and shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth was actually him. But when she squints and takes into account his discernible curly locks, his signature black trench coat, and his cotton grey soccer sweatshirt with his last name embroidered on the front layered underneath—there’s no denying that it’s him.

She looks around and notices that there are a few other students scattered about, eating their breakfast wearing thick sweatshirts and conversing amongst themselves. Before she can be detected, Nora buries her chin in her thick knitted scarf and walks around the edges of the room towards the kitchen to grab her own helping of eggs and pancakes.

Nora’s gotten quite good at keeping a low profile, so when she finds an empty seat in the corner of the room, completely far away from Harry’s slumped figure, she lets herself breathe for the first time. She unwraps her maroon scarf and unbuttons her navy parka before digging into her breakfast, flipping through her battered copy of The Princess Bride. Every year, Nora rereads her favorite books that were turned into films, and she figured now was as good a time as any to pick up where she left off.

Halfway through her breakfast, Nora realizes a moment too late that she picked the seat that’s closest to the tea and coffee station when she hears her name gruffly fall past Harry’s lips as he stands over her, a completely shocked look on his face.

“Nora?” Harry repeats after a minute has passed with the two of them just staring at each other, wondering what in the hell the other is doing spending their winter break at school all alone.

“Hi,” Nora says awkwardly, avoiding Harry’s gaze and choosing instead to look at the rolled-up paperback sticking out of his jacket pocket. She can’t quite make out the title of the book from her position, but the light blue coloring of the title page is familiar to her for some odd reason.

“What are you…” His words fall from his mouth without any clear purpose. She realizes then and there that the last words she spoke to him were a broken “fuck you” one year ago in Dr. Forrester’s AP Chem lab, and that thought is enough to cause her to stand up abruptly from the wooden bench, grabbing her tray in one hand and her parka in the other, trying her hardest to get out from under Harry’s intense gaze.

“Wait, Nora!” Harry calls after her as she scrambles towards the trash bin to clear her half-eaten plate. She ignores him, the need to get away from him much stronger than her urge to stick around and hear what he has to say to her. And before she knows it, she’s running through the snowy campus with her parka barely buttoned, recognizing a moment too late that she left her maroon scarf on the table in the dining hall in her mad sprint to the exit.

For two days, Nora skips out on breakfast—too terrified to run into Harry again. She eats the rest of her meals by the old fireplace in Millikan Library at odd times in the day, growing far too comfortable with the eerie solitude floating through the towering ceilings.

Most of her afternoons spent in Millikan are quite peaceful, considering the foot traffic is practically nonexistent save for the two librarians working the research desk and the small handful of students searching through the fiction aisle for a new book to read to keep them preoccupied during the break. Her spot near the fireplace is hidden in plain sight, somehow giving her the perfect view of the lower floor of the library while staying comfortably concealed from wandering eyes.

Luck isn’t on her side, though, and while she’s finishing up the last quarter of The Princess Bride, her focus is broken when a familiar maroon scarf drops in the middle of her lap, obstructing Nora’s spot on the page.

When she looks up she sees Harry, dressed in familiar black jeans and a simple white t-shirt underneath his trench coat. Snowflakes dust the tips of his curly hair, and when Nora squints she can make out the purple bags underneath his dull green eyes.

“You left that in the dining hall,” he says slowly, sitting down in the chair across from the matching one Nora is currently curled up in.

“Uh, thanks,” she mutters, scrunching the thick material up and shoving it into her backpack resting on the floor below her. A crinkled Pop-Tart wrapper comes fluttering out of her bag as she attempts to zip it up, and Harry notices it instantly.

“Have you been living off of those instead of eating real food?” he asks. Nora can’t tell if he’s actually concerned or if he’s teasing her, because his eyes are still dull and his face is still blank and she can’t read Harry Styles for the life of her.

When she doesn’t answer, he states simply, “You’re avoiding me.”

“Can you blame me?” Nora responds quickly, looking at him with a layer of sadness hidden underneath her cerulean eyes.

“No, suppose I can’t.” He’s quiet for a few minutes, shifting his gaze towards the carpeted flooring below them. He looks as if he’s thinking very hard, and Nora wonders if he’s trying to figure out how to apologize to her. And when he’s still sitting there, a massive indent in the middle of his eyebrows while his lips pout downward in a frustrated frown, Nora thinks that a person like Harry has probably never had to apologize for anything in his entire life.

That realization is enough to keep her from running away from him again.

Harry lifts his eyes from the floor then, moving his gaze from Nora’s face to the book in her lap. She looks comfortable, wearing thick leggings and a woolen turtleneck, her blonde hair twisted into a low bun behind her neck, allowing her fringe to fall wildly against her forehead. He notices that her snow boots are on the floor, and her socked-clad feet are tucked underneath her thighs on the big chair she’s nestled in. For the first time in a long time—probably ever, if Harry really sits and thinks about it—he feels as if he’s looking at Nora Priestley for the first time, observing every freckle on her pale skin and every line and curve of her face. He’s not quite sure what that means entirely, but he’s sure that it has to mean something, in the grand scheme of things.

If she’s grown uncomfortable under his stare, she doesn’t show it, and Harry’s a bit grateful for that. Without really thinking about it, Harry reaches inside his jacket pocket, revealing his curled up copy of The Call of the Wild.

“D’ya mind if I sit here and read with you?” he asks quietly.

“No,” Nora says, her voice pitch wavering, “Not at all.”

What normally would take Nora less than an hour to read, ends up being much longer, because she had suddenly grown extremely distracted with Harry’s presence across from her. It first started when he took off his black trench coat, revealing a threadbare white t-shirt that didn’t seem appropriate with the falling snow outside and the frigid temperature in the air. But it wasn’t the thin material that captured Nora’s attention. Instead, it was the various etchings of black ink swirling up and down his left arm. She tries not to stare, but she honestly can’t help it, because the images of shaded roses and thick anchors and anatomically correct organs is causing her head to spin. Nora never thought that picture-perfect Harry Styles, with all his splendor and daddy’s money, would brand his skin with outrageous tattoos. But it somehow fits, and Nora finds that she suddenly wants to know what every picture means, and its significance to the boy adorning them.

She tries to bring her attention back to her book, but it’s practically no use, considering her eyes keep falling towards his, watching the way he reads the old book in his large hands. From this position with the big bay windows behind her and the light flooding through, Harry’s green eyes almost seem blue. She’s not sure if he’s aware that he’s doing it, but his fingers keep constantly picking at the dry skin on his lower lip, and if there’s nothing left to pick, his fingers just push and pull at the skin as he flips to the next page. Whenever he seems to read a particularly interesting passage, Harry’s brows furrow as he concentrates on the words bleeding off the page. And just when Nora thinks she’s gotten used to his presence, he would absentmindedly fidget in the seat, changing which leg would be crossed over the other, bringing his foot up to rest on the seat so that his elbow can lean on something new, or even moving his body completely, so that his legs fall over the arm of the chair and his head rests against the other.

And when Nora’s no longer distracted by Harry’s existence, she finds that her thoughts linger on the hundreds of questions floating through her brain. She wonders what he’s doing here, all alone during Christmas break when he spends his summers in the south of France or the Hamptons or some other luxurious location. She wonders why, of all places to read an old copy of The Call of the Wild, he chooses to sit near her, a girl he’s supposed to hate. And she especially wonders why she doesn’t mind his proximity to her body, considering he’s done nothing but hurt her since they first met.

Nora finds this entire afternoon to be distracting, and without even finishing the book (even though she acts like she has, because let’s be honest, Nora’s read The Princess Bride enough times to recite the last page), she closes it and throws it in her backpack, exchanging the paperback for her maroon scarf and beginning to lace-up her snow boots. Harry looks up from his book and notices her getting ready to leave, and without saying anything, Nora watches as he dog-ears his page and begins to pull his arms through the sleeves of his coat.

“I’m gonna head to the dining hall,” Nora explains, even though she’s not entirely sure she wants Harry to follow her. But when he stands up from the chair and slips his book into his pocket, Nora finds that she doesn’t really have a choice in the matter, other than to follow him down the stairs and out the front door into the snow.

Townbridge covered in a thick blanket of snow is quite a sight to behold, and momentarily, Nora can forget that Harry Styles is standing near her. Because the snow is falling lightly from the sky, dusting the tips of her nose and the apples of her cheeks, and she thinks it’s probably the calmest she’s felt in a very long time.

But then Harry’s elbow knocks against hers as he shoves his hands deep into his pockets, and suddenly all of the distracting thoughts and the endless questions from before come rushing from her brain to the tip of her tongue, and Nora finds that she can’t hold it in anymore.

“Why are you talking to me, Harry? Aren’t you supposed to hate me?” Nora’s words aren’t spiteful in the slightest. In fact, there’s barely any emotion behind them—just a statement that’s been at the forefront of her mind ever since he first approached her in the dining hall two days ago.

“I don’t hate you, Nora,” Harry chooses to say, looking down at her briefly as they continue the short walk to their destination.

“You certainly don’t like me,” Nora replies back, keeping her head down to avoid more snowflakes accumulating on her eyelashes.

“If this is about last year, I really am sorry. You were right to say those things to me in Dr. Forrester’s lab, I deserved it. All of it.” Nora waits a minute to speak, because she’s curious if Harry Styles will grovel in front of her, if he’ll beg for her forgiveness the way she’s dreamt about him doing for the past twelve months. He stays quiet, kicking his boot through a particularly thick segment of snow, and when Nora chances a look towards his face, she can see through his eyes that this conversation is torturing him. The dullness is tenfold, and his lips are in a very straight line and she’s never seen a jaw so clenched in her entire life. And even though he doesn’t say anything else, Nora accepts his apology, because although words have failed him (as they usually have in the past), his eyes give everything away.

The word pushover comes to mind, but Nora doesn’t think it’s a negative aspect of her personality. She was always taught to find the best in people, and if Harry’s apology consists of a handful of words and green eyes twisted in utter agony, she’ll take what she can get.

He holds the door open for her as they approach the dining hall and she gives him a quiet “thank you,” and Harry’s not sure if it’s for his chivalrous act or his bare-bones apology, but he takes it in stride. They grab chicken noodle soup and turkey sandwiches and steaming cups of tea and sit at the table near the large row of windows and for the first time, Nora doesn’t mind sitting across from him.

“So, why The Princess Bride?” Harry asks after a mouthful of soup, watching the way her mouth quirks at the mention of her favorite book.

“It’s one of my favorite movie adaptations. Movies are kind of my thing, I guess,” she explains, holding her warm cup of tea against her hands and she looks so damn cozy.

Harry nods, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“What about you?” Nora counters, watching the way his head tilts in confusion.

“What about me?” He echoes.

“Why The Call of the Wild?”

Harry grins, taking a long sip of his tea before replying, “I like classic literature. Guess it’s kind of my thing.”

Before Nora can say anything else, or tease him about copying her phrase, Miss Flaherty approaches their table with a bright grin. She’s one of the guidance counselors at Townbridge, an older woman who reminds everybody of their Nana. So when she places a hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezes, Nora’s curiosity is piqued to the fullest.

“Harry! There you are, lovie. Will you be joining us tomorrow for the Toy Drive again? I’m sure everybody will be happy to see you.”

Sheepish has never been a word that Nora would think to associate with Harry Styles, but when his cheeks begin to flush and his eyes look anywhere but at Nora’s, she can tell that he’s nervous. And when she thinks back to Miss Flaherty’s question, more importantly, the word again, Nora’s wondering who on earth the boy sitting across from her truly is.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he tells her, smiling awkwardly.

“Amazing! How about you, Nora? Will you be joining us as well?” Nora’s suddenly aware of two sets of eyes on her, and when she glances at Harry and sees that his face is void of irritation, she nods her head and looks back towards Miss Flaherty.

“Of course! Count me in.”

Miss Flaherty smiles brightly and looks between the two of them happily. “Lovely! I’m sure Harry here will tell you all about it. We’ll see you tomorrow!”

After she walks away it’s quiet again, just the two of them slurping from their bowls of soups, trying to figure out how to address what just happened. Surprisingly, it’s Harry who speaks first.

“Uh, you don’t have to come if you don’t, er, want to.” He’s anxious and Nora wishes he would stop looking at the wooden table and would look at her, instead. Because she’s never given him a reason to be nervous around her, and the fact that he’s suddenly grown so small in front of her is all too confusing for her to understand.

“I don’t mind, really. Sounds cool, actually,” Nora admits, meaning every word.

Harry looks up at her then, observing her to see if there’s any teasing on her face. But when she looks back at him with nothing but a warm expression, Harry can tell that Nora actually means it, and he gives her a gentle smile in return.

Once they finish their lunch, they begin to walk back to their dorms. Nora lives on a different floor of Granary Hall and Harry lives in Quinby House, which is just across the small quarry outside of her building. It’s a comfortable silence, and Nora really wasn’t expecting him to walk her to the front door of her building. She’s not at all mad that he does, though, and when she turns towards him to say goodbye, he looks as if he’s trying to say something to her.

“I can drive you tomorrow to the Youth Center if you want. Easier than taking the bus,” Harry says, pushing his hands against the bottom of his pockets as he shuffles on the pavement in front of her, avoiding eye contact.

Nora nods, smiling softly before saying, “Sure, sounds good. Thanks, Harry.”

Before she can even mutter a goodbye, Harry’s already spinning on his boots towards Quinby House, and Nora’s left watching his figure disappear through the snow, thinking that out of the four years she’s known him, this is the most words they’ve ever spoken to one another.

Nora’s not even sure if she’s aware of it, but when she wakes up the next morning and chooses her nicest pair of jeans and applies a generous amount of mascara to her eyelashes, the idea of impressing Harry is barely even a thought in her mind. But there’s a reason for everything—and the fact that she brushed through her knotted hair and stuck her cherry-flavored lip balm into her pocket before rushing out the door, means that subconsciously she’s thinking about him.

They meet in the parking lot near his black Range Rover, and when he offers her a small smile and opens the door for her, she’s not quite sure what to think. He’s wearing his trench coat again with a grey thermal top underneath, and his curls are stuffed under a bright blue knitted beanie and he looks unbelievably warm. They don’t really talk much but they do listen to Big Star, and when “Thirteen” comes on and Nora starts to sing the words to herself, Harry snaps his head over in her direction with a wide-eyed look of astonishment.

“You listen to Big Star?” he asks, flitting his gaze between the road and Nora’s face.

She smiles, content that she’s shocked Harry, before adding, “Yeah, they’re one of my mom’s favorites.”

He nods, an impressed look on his face. “She’s got great taste.”

The rest of the ride is filled with more of Harry’s musical repertoire to which Nora sings along to the songs she knows. And if she listens close enough, she can hear the low tone of Harry’s singing voice, and she almost finds herself leaning closer towards him so that she can listen more clearly.

When they reach the Youth Center, Harry pops open his trunk and reveals two boxes filled with toys. Nora helps him and grabs the other, peeking inside and seeing wrapped presents of various sizes. They enter the room and greet Miss Flaherty, who immediately delegates Harry and his strong arms to deliver all of the presents underneath the tree, and Nora is sent to pass out homemade cookies and milk and read to the younger children.

It’s a blur of activity, and in between reading A Christmas Carol and making sure the younger children don’t choke on their cookies, Nora almost forgets to watch Harry. She mainly notices him in passing—a quick glimpse of a grey long-sleeved arm passing out presents, an electric blue beanie bouncing up and down in her periphery, a peek of brown suede boots running around behind her. It’s only once Nora’s begun reading the fourth stave, in which the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come visits Scrooge, when she notices denim-clad long legs sitting cross-legged in front of her, with a five-year-old blonde girl perched on his lap.

Harry sits there and listens to Nora finish reading the book, watching the way she acts out each character so that the kids in front of her are completely entranced. Her hair looks shinier today than when they were nestled in the library, and her blue eyes glisten whenever she hears a small child “ooh” and “aah” at the sentence she just read. And whenever her gaze falls on Harry’s, he can’t help but mirror the grin on her face.

When it ends, the little girl in his lap whispers into his ear, “Can we give Nora a cookie? She did a good job reading,” and Harry begins nodding excitedly.

“I think that’s a great idea, love. Up you go, let’s go pick out the prettiest sugar cookie on the table, yeah?” When she latches her small hand into his, Nora can’t help but watch in adoration as he lifts her up and brings her to eye level with the cookie tray, pointing at certain ones and waiting for her little nod of approval.

And when the pair approach her, the little girl holding up a paper plate with a snowman sugar cookie on it, Nora’s smile couldn’t be wider. “Is this for me?” Nora asks, bending at her knees so that she’s eye-to-eye with the small girl.

She nods, bashfully. “To say thank you. Harry said you should get the prettiest cookie.”

When Nora grabs the cookie, she looks up at Harry to find that he’s already looking down at her, shrugging his shoulders as if it were nothing. But to Nora, it was practically everything, and she spends the rest of the afternoon in a blissful state, a smile permanently gracing her features.

When they get back to campus with both their stomachs filled with cookies and eggnog and Christmas breads, the sun is just starting to set past the horizon. Harry pulls into his parking spot but waits a moment to shut off the ignition, noticing how Nora’s gaze is focused on the sky as it turns from a cornflower blue to a prepossessing tangerine hue. The snow reflects the sunset perfectly, and even though it’s one of the prettiest winter sunsets Harry’s seen in a long time, he can’t stop looking at the girl sitting in his passenger seat.

She finally turns to him just as the sky changes from violet to indigo, “I had fun today.”

Harry nods, agreeing instantly. “Yeah, it was a good day.”

“Do you do that often? Is that why you stay here during Christmas break?” Nora’s not quite sure if she’s overstepping, but when Harry’s jaw doesn’t clench and his eyes stay rooted on her own, she can tell that he’s not as nervous to tell her things anymore.

“I’ve been doing it the past two years. My dad’s been going on work trips during the Holidays, so I just stay here.” It’s a version of the truth that he feels most comfortable sharing, and he’s grateful that Nora doesn’t push him.

“I’m assuming your friends don’t know,” Nora offers quietly, watching as Harry chuckles to himself, the sound being anything but funny.

“Yeah, they think I’m in the Alps.” He looks sad all of a sudden, and Nora wishes she hadn’t said anything. Because the fact that Harry’s father chooses to work during Christmas, thus leaving him no choice but to stay at Townbridge by himself, is a shitty thing to do. But instead of moping, he chooses to donate presents to children so they can have some sort of a normal Christmas, even though he doesn’t get the same in return. That’s quite admirable.

If it were Nora, she would be bragging to her friends about the Toy Drive, begging them to join her and spread more awareness. But Harry—Harry can’t do that. Because his friends would never understand, and that realization strikes Nora hard in her chest.

Giving him one last glance, she asks him, “Have you ever seen The Princess Bride?”

He looks at her, his eyebrows furrowed and his nose scrunched up in confusion. The sudden change in conversation is a bit jolting, and when he tries to figure out her intention, she giggles uncomfortably before rambling. “I nicked the DVD player from our common room and set it up in my dorm. Nobody really noticed, so I’ve been watching movies on it all semester.” He’s still looking at her, but instead of confusion written across his face, his lips begin to form a smirk and Nora begins to squirm in her seat, much like the first time they met three years ago in the Great Hall. “So, uh, have you seen it?”

He shakes his head once, twice, the smirk growing into a smile.

“Would you like to?” Nora’s not quite sure why she’s nervous, or more importantly, why she’s even inviting him up to her room in the first place. Maybe she pities him in the slightest, or maybe, just maybe, she’s found that she actually enjoys his presence for once in her life.

“Sure,” he replies easily. Nora watches as he turns the key in his ignition to shut the car off, before hopping out and waiting for her by the trunk. They walk inside Granary Hall together, ride the elevator up to the eighth floor in silence, before entering the fourth door on the right.

The room is moderate, practically identical to the one he had last year with Will, but for some reason, it just screams Nora Priestley. He can already tell which side of the room is hers due to the mix-matched comforter set, the thick homemade quilt, the generous stack of books leaning precariously against the wooden desk, and the collection of polaroids stuck to the wall above her bed nestled in the corner. While she takes off her parka and snow boots, Harry leans towards the photographs, smiling to himself when he sees the happiness radiating off of each one.

His eyes seem glued to the images of Nora and who he assumes to be her mother, with their arms wrapped around each other and their long hair tangling in the ocean breeze. They seem to have done everything together—various images of the two of them on beaches and hiking trails and in the front seat of an old car. Harry’s never seen pure happiness before, and he wishes he could burn these images underneath his eyelids so that he never forgets what that feeling looks like.

“That’s my mom,” Nora says from behind him, almost startling him. He turns around with flushed cheeks, an apology at the tip of his tongue for so obviously intruding. But when he sees her face and notices that she’s not angry at all, he feels his shoulders relax.

“You guys seem to do everything together,” he says softly, choosing his words carefully as to not overstep. The topic of family has always been a difficult one for him in the past.

But for Nora Priestley, she seems to have no qualms about the topic, with the way she’s nodding easily with a nostalgic grin on her face. “Yeah, it’s always been that way. Just the two of us.”

Harry doesn’t say much else, but the look on his face says it all. Some mixture of sadness and jealousy, because even though Nora only has one parent, it’s more than the two he’s known his entire life.

Nora fills her arms with the pillows from her mattress and creates a makeshift pallet on the floor against the end of her bed. Harry takes the seat closest to the door and watches amusedly as she begins to microwave popcorn, opening the door with ten seconds to spare so that she can mix in a package of M&M’s.

When she joins him moments later, she flicks the light off and hits play on the remote. Just as the opening credits begin, she plops down next to him and holds the bowl out in his direction.

“What’s this?” Harry asks, completely serious. He’s looking at the bowl with fascination, wondering what sort of salty-sugary concoction Nora just created.

“It’s the ultimate cinema snack,” Nora explains, grabbing a handful of chocolatey kernels and dropping them into her mouth, munching quietly as Harry looks at her with a glimmer in his eye.

When he pauses for a second time, looking between the movie and the bowl in Nora’s outstretched hands, a sudden realization falls over her.

“Have you never done this before? Gone to the cinema and eaten enough sugary sweets to give yourself a guaranteed stomachache?” The opening scene has already begun but Nora’s too focused on the boy next to her who shakes his head solemnly and looks into the bowl, avoiding Nora’s gaze. She wonders what else the boy she thought had everything in the world has seemingly missed out on.

She turns back around to face the screen, unknowingly scooting closer towards Harry so that their sides are nearly centimeters apart. He can feel the heat of her body against his own, and just when he’s about to say something, Nora announces, “Well, Harry Styles, there’s a first time for everything. Eat up.”

And he does just that.  

The next morning at breakfast at their usual table, Harry finds that he’s nervous. And not in the way that makes him angry and quiet and want to run away, but the kind that usually is caused by a girl. His stomach feels fluttery and his palms are sweating and he’s consistently overthinking, and he’s not even sure why—because he’s Harry Styles, for fuck’s sake. And the girl in question is none other than Nora Priestley.

But she’s wearing a beanie with a bobble on top and her cheeks are pink from the cold and there’s still snow clinging to the ends of her hair and he can’t help but feel out of his element. And he shouldn’t, truly, because he’s been with enough girls to know that these feelings don’t exist and that he’s probably fallen ill or something, most likely caused by the cookies they ate all afternoon and the popcorn-M&M monstrosity he inhaled during their movie.

They haven’t really said much, and Harry finds that he doesn’t mind, because he’s not really used to comfortable silences. Alyssa talks enough for the both of them and Grace and Erin are practically human echoes. Carter always has something new to say and Will answers him because he knows Harry won’t, so the fact that he can sit in the dining hall with somebody and read from each other’s books and talk about things that actually matter—it’s refreshing.

“These buildings are quite eerie when they’re completely empty, don’t you think?” Nora asks after they’ve disposed of their dirty plates.

“I think it’s kind of cool. Have you not been anywhere else besides here and the library?” Harry asks, grabbing his scarf and knotting it around his neck.

When Nora shakes her head, Harry’s hand reaches out to grab her own and he’s dragging her through the exit before she can even button up her parka.

“Harry!” Nora squeals, nearly tripping over her own two feet when she tries to keep up with his obnoxiously long strides. His hand still has hers in a vice-like grip and he doesn’t seem to be letting go any time soon, and it’s only once they’ve appeared in front of the English building when Nora digs her heels into the ground, causing Harry to turn around abruptly.

“What?” he asks, noticing the way her head shakes aggressively and her eyes are blown out as if she were completely and utterly afraid.

“No way. We’re not going in there, are you crazy?! It’s the most haunted building on campus, and it’s empty. No fucking way, Harry,” Nora says, standing her ground.

But with one roll of his eyes and some gentle prodding falling from his lips, Nora finds that she’s somehow ended up inside the stairwell of the empty building, laying next to Harry on the marble staircase. It’s silent, save for the sounds of their hearts beating in their chests and their even breaths falling from their parted lips. The window over the second-floor landing paints a pretty light through the surface, and Nora finds that she’s oddly comfortable in this haunted building she’s so terrified of.

She wonders if it’s because of the boy lying next to her.

“Where are you off to next year?” Harry asks suddenly, his head tipped towards the ceiling four stories up.

“Columbia, hopefully,” Nora says, focusing on the rays of light creating illusions along the stone walls.

“New York City?” Harry asks, sounding quite impressed.

“Yeah. How about you?” she asks, twisting her fingers absentmindedly in her lap.

Harry’s quiet for a moment and when Nora looks over, noticing the way his eyes close slowly and his jaw clenches harshly, she wonders if he’s okay. “Oxford,” he finally spits out, his eyes blinking towards the ceiling once more. “As expected.”

Nora thinks of how to respond, but before she can string together a cohesive thought, Harry suddenly turns his neck so that he’s facing her. “I hate expectations. I wish they didn’t fucking exist, if I’m being honest. How are you supposed to grow if you’re forced to do certain things that are already mapped out for you?”

Nora looks back at him, unexpectedly understanding a good chunk of who Harry is. How even though he’s Townbridge’s Golden Boy, the perfect boy who seemingly can get whatever he wants, he’s missing one thing. Happiness. Pure, unadulterated happiness.

“What do you want to do when you get to Columbia? Like if you had the choice, and nobody was making it for you, and you didn’t have to worry about anything else—what would make you happy?” Harry asks, a shocking hint of vulnerability laced in between his words.

When Nora stops and thinks about it, the answer is literally right in front of her face. It’s what she’s always wanted to do, what she wishes she could do—but knows deep down that she can’t do. Because it’s not stable and it’s not why Nora went to Townbridge in the first place.

“Scriptwriting. I’d want to write screenplays and work on sets and help construct films that people like me can watch over and over again and never get tired of,” Nora whispers, thinking that if she says it quietly in the stairwell with just Harry around, she can still keep it locked up buried deep inside, away from people who would ridicule her over it.

“What would you do?” Nora asks before Harry can comment on her dream. She’s still not sure she’s ready for that.

His answer comes easier than hers. “I’d want to teach. English lit, preferably.”

Vulnerability is a scary thing. It’s even scarier when it’s shared between two people who, up until five days ago, were practically strangers. As they watch each other, heartbreakingly realizing that these dreams of theirs are just something they’re supposed to chase—a sudden sadness washes over them on the stairwell.

“I can’t do that, though,” Harry says, turning towards the ceiling just as his voice breaks. “Because it’s not in the plan.”

“What is the plan?” Nora asks curiously, eyes still locked on Harry’s side profile, watching the way his jaw moves as he speaks.

“Business Administration at Oxford. An internship at my dad’s company during my second year, and then a full-time job there once I graduate. Board of directors by twenty-five, until I fully take over by thirty. That’s it. That’s my life.” Harry’s voice has never sounded so broken before, and Nora feels her heart splinter a little for the boy lying beside her. Because right now, he’s eighteen, and he’s not supposed to be feeling this inordinate amount of pressure. But he is, and that thought makes Nora incredibly sad.

“And you?” Harry asks suddenly, looking towards her again.

“What about me?” Nora asks cautiously.

“What’s stopping you from becoming a scriptwriter?”

It’s a simple question if Nora really thinks about it. But things aren’t always that easy, and explaining to Harry how his anguish is not too far off from her own is quite a terrifying thought. Because they come from two separate worlds, and finding common ground in the fact that the things they truly yearn for are just not tangible is a sobering experience.

“My mom has higher expectations for me. I mean, I’m The Scholarship Girl. I’m not even supposed to be here. But my mom pushed for me and Mrs. Clemonte supported my application and before I even had a say in it, Townbridge was my plan,” Nora starts, feeling Harry’s eyes on her as she looks anywhere else but in the green of his. “My mom had me young, so she never got to go to college. She’s always telling me to do the things she couldn’t do, make better decisions than she made, be the best version of me I can be. And I do try, constantly. Because she works endlessly and she does everything she can to make sure I don’t end up like her, and that’s a lot of pressure for one person to take, because how can I repay her by studying performance arts and joining an industry that’s already extremely difficult to get into?” Nora’s eyes fall from the ceiling towards Harry, and there’s an unreadable expression on his face. “I can’t do that to her. It would break her heart.”

Harry nods like he understands, and for a brief moment, Nora thinks that he truly does. Because even though their situations are different and they come from two completely separate walks of life, they both have fallen victim to an excruciating amount of pressure.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, sounding more sincere than he ever has in his entire life.

Nora just shrugs, turning her face back towards the ceiling. “Not your fault.”

“I’m sorry for a lot of things, I guess,” Harry whispers, and Nora almost misses it over the sound of her own breathing. But when she feels his eyes warm her left cheek, she looks back at him and sees that he’s suddenly overridden with guilt.

“It’s okay, Harry—”

“—No, no. It’s really not.” He’s staring at her intently, and Nora’s suddenly found that she can’t look anywhere else. “What Carter did was wrong, and I didn’t do anything about it. And you lost all of your friends and he just went on the same as he always did, and the whole thing is just so fucked up.”

“I didn’t lose everybody,” Nora adds sheepishly, wishing this conversation would end. She doesn’t want to relive last year, she wants to forget its existence entirely.

“Still, it was wrong,” he frustratedly repeats. “You shouldn’t have just one friend at school.”

“It’s okay, though,” she says one last time, her voice urging him to understand her so that they can ultimately end this dreaded conversation. “I’d rather have one true friend than a bunch of fairweather ones.”

Harry nods and turns back towards the ceiling, and she knows that he isn’t going to say anything. Because this conversation is over, and what Nora said is unquestionably true. But he doesn’t want to face the harsh reality of his empty friendships, so instead, he stares at the ceiling, wondering how his life would have turned out if he fell into a different group instead of the one he has now.

Once Nora’s back starts to ache against the stone stairwell, she sits up and peers through the window on the second-story landing. The snow is falling down a bit harder now, coating the campus below in a thick, billowing white blanket. She thinks it’s beautiful. She thinks it’s far too inviting. So without thinking (something she’s been doing a lot of this week), she reaches for Harry’s hand and heaves him up, dragging him out of the English building and into the empty quad.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks, confusion and amusement weaving together beautifully in his voice. Without answering, Nora reaches down and makes a snowball through her fingerless gloves, before hurling it straight towards Harry’s chest.

He looks at her with his jaw practically on the floor, faking his anger even though Nora can see right through it. She’s giggling loudly, almost hunched over at the shocked expression on his face. And before she can even comprehend it, Harry makes a snowball faster than her own and hits her right in the shoulder.

“Hey!” she calls back, wiping the leftover snow off her parka. Harry’s mischievous grin is clear as day through the thick snowfall, and when she mirrors it back, they’ve suddenly found themselves in a snow war.

Their laughter echoes through the quad and bounces off the stone buildings, and once Nora’s beanie is submerged in the snow and their jeans are soaked through and the only sound they can hear is their teeth chattering together, Harry calls a truce and drags her towards the direction of Quinby House. It’s closer than Granary Hall by at least five minutes, and when he holds the front door open for her, Nora enters without really thinking of the repercussions.

“Our floor’s empty and we have a private bathroom, so, er, if you want to shower first you’re more than welcome to. I’ve got warm clothes you can change into,” Harry offers quietly, rubbing his palm against the back of his neck. Nora can’t tell if the blush coating his cheeks is from the snow clinging to his body or something else entirely, but she doesn’t push it. Instead, she nods, following him to the last door on the left of the third floor, removing her snow boots in the hallway outside and beginning to walk towards the adjoining bathroom.

Nora closes the door without turning the lock, and immediately turns the shower on to its highest setting as she removes each soggy layer of clothing. She steps in just as the steam is clouding the small room, and when she notices the citrus body wash in the corner, she grabs that one instead of the Irish Spring bottle, knowing that it’s Harry’s.

Just as Harry’s pulled out a tight pair of joggers and his freshly washed soccer sweatshirt, he hears the distinct sound of the door creaking open. When he looks over his shoulder and finds that Nora isn’t peeking her head out from behind, he immediately gulps, knowing that the old door and the hot room caused the hinges to loosen.

As he approaches the door to close it securely, he can’t help but look up and notice Nora’s bare back through the mirror. Luckily he doesn’t see anything else, but still, he finds himself not being able to look away. Her milky skin is slightly red from the hot streams of the shower hitting her back and her blonde hair is sudsy and a part of him hopes that she picked his shampoo instead of Will’s. And when she moves her hair from the nape of her neck, Harry notices four black letters tattooed into her skin, and suddenly he closes the door before he can make out the blackletter script.

He sits on his bed across the room, his elbows resting on his thighs with his head in his hands as he tries his hardest to regulate his breathing. It’s a fucking back for Christ’s sake! Harry’s seen far more amongst other girls, and the fact that her hidden tattoo is causing his heart to beat erratically is giving him a migraine. Because it’s Nora fucking Priestley behind that door, and he’s Harry fucking Styles. And he needs to remember that before he embarrasses himself any further.

But when the door finally opens fully and she’s standing there in a tiny towel barely covering her legs and her wet hair framing her blushing face, Harry knows he’s fucked. Because it’s Nora fucking Priestley. And she’s standing there naked underneath terry-cloth and he doesn’t try to ignore the fact that his thumping heart and his staggered breathing are all because of her.

“So those, uh, clothes you were talking about…” Nora says awkwardly, staring at the carpeted flooring of his room instead of his face. Because she’s very clearly naked and very clearly uncomfortable, and when Harry points towards Will’s bed where the articles in question are resting, she barely mutters a thank you before the wooden door is shut again and she can finally breathe properly.

When they exchange places, Nora’s grateful that Harry has the decency to bring his change of clothing into the bathroom with him, because if she had to stare at his wet torso, she’s not quite sure she could bear it.

She snoops through his dorm room once she hears the water running, and finds that his side is practically barren. There are no pictures of his family, no personalized anecdotes to distinguish Harry’s side of the room from Willy’s, nothing except a collection of books in the open section underneath his nightstand. She reads through the titles, realizing that Harry does, in fact, have a thing for classic literature.

Just as she’s moved on to Willy’s desk, observing the stoic photograph of him and his parents that must have been taken recently, Harry emerges from the bathroom in comfy sweats and wet curly hair, and Nora looks away before she’s caught admiring his figure.

“What are you looking at?” Harry asks, dropping his wet clothes into his hamper before turning towards Nora’s position against Will’s desk.

When she holds up the frame, Harry looks between the picture and Nora’s face. As Harry studies her expression, noting the way her eyes are clouded with familiarity and a hint of sadness that lingers underneath, he can tell that she knows this family quite well.

So he asks, “You know Will, don’t you?”

“Knew would be the appropriate term,” Nora says quietly, placing the frame back where she found it before leaning her backside on his desk so that she can face Harry properly. “My mom was his nanny.”

Before Harry can comment, Nora quickly adds, “But please don’t tell him that. I don’t want him to think I’ve ruined his reputation or anything.”

“Why?” Harry asks, stepping towards her slowly. When she looks up at him with confusion, he continues, “Why would you let him lie to everybody?”

Nora just shrugs. “He obviously didn’t want anybody to know. But I know the truth, and Willy knows the truth, and he’s the one who has to live with that, not me.”

Harry looks at her from the middle of his room, thinking it’s quite remarkable that her brain works like that. Because Will had embarrassed her clear as day in front of all of his friends, and not only that, he lied, too. Harry thinks that if he hadn’t said those words, and if Alyssa and her friends hadn’t reacted that way, and if he just had a moment to talk to Nora before they had interrupted—maybe things would be completely different.

But Harry doesn’t like to think about what if’s. So instead, he grabs his laptop from his desk and powers it on, laying down on his twin bed in the spot closest to the wall, pulling up his movie library and patting the empty spot on his mattress.

When Nora lays down next to him, her back propped up on his headboard as her left side is flushed with Harry’s right, she asks, “Are we watching your favorite this time?”

Harry grins, shaking his head. “No, I’d rather watch another one of yours.”

Blushing, Nora grabs the computer from his lap and types in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, a classic that she’s sure Harry will enjoy. And when she hands his computer back to him, she tries to ignore the fact that Harry was watching her face instead of the screen.

“Have you seen this?” Nora asks, trying to break Harry out of whatever weird trance he fell into.

“Nope,” Harry admits, balancing his computer in the middle of their thighs so that they can both view the screen properly. Nora tries to ignore the fact that she had to move closer towards him to fill in the gap, but the redness flushing up and down her neck practically gives her away. “Why is it one of your favorites?”

His question is simple in hindsight, but it makes her heart bubble when she realizes that he’s actually interested in the little things about her that seem meaningless. “Well, it’s a classic, and I know that’s sort of your thing,” she says, smiling when she pulls a chuckle from his mouth. “And it’s one of my favorite examples of breaking the fourth wall in a screenplay.”

“What on earth is that?” Harry asks, clicking play once the movie has finished loading.

“It’s sort of like metafiction in literature. Basically, it’s a plot device that scriptwriter’s use when the main character speaks to the audience. Ferris does it, like, all the time.” When Nora realizes that she sounds extremely nerdy divulging scriptwriting plot devices and intricacies about film that nobody really cares about, she shuts her mouth, turning crimson.

Harry doesn’t say anything though, and she’s grateful for it. Because even if he thinks it’s weird and nerdy (which he doesn’t, of course, but he’d never tell her that), he turns his head towards the screen and tries to hide the smile on his face.

And when the opening monologue begins and Ferris is in the shower talking to the camera, Harry whispers into Nora’s ear and asks, “Is that it?” She tries to cover the shiver running through her skin at the feeling of Harry’s lips brushing against her earlobe, but Harry notices it, like he notices everything about her lately. So for good measure, when Ferris breaks the fourth wall again at Cameron’s house, Harry leans over and mumbles, “And this, yeah? This is it, too?”

Nora knows he’s teasing, so when she turns her face in his direction so that Harry can see her rolling her eyes in good humor, he tries to ignore the warmth on his shoulder from where her chin rests.

Around halfway through the movie, Nora finds that she’s suddenly grown tired. She sneaks a peek at Harry and notices that he’s captivated by the movie on the small screen, and she really doesn’t want to interrupt him. After her third stifled yawn, Nora can feel her eyes drooping, and without really thinking, her head falls against the fleshy part of Harry’s bicep. Harry doesn’t say anything, but he does flinch for the shortest of seconds, before looking at her and realizing that she looks far too content dozing off on his arm. So he keeps quiet, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest.

The next morning, Nora wakes up and finds that she’s not in her room. She also finds that her left cheek is smushed against comfy cotton material that keeps rising and falling steadily. And when she finally comes to, she finds that the comfy cotton material belongs to Harry, and the rising and falling belongs to his chest, and when she notices her right arm wrapped securely around his lower stomach just above the waistband of his joggers where a sliver of warm, tattooed skin lies, she freezes. Before Harry can wake up and go through the same motions she just did, Nora springs up, a stupid decision that results in Harry stirring abruptly.

He seems to have realized the compromising position they were just in, and before Nora can run out of the room in a panic, he mutters, “I’m sorry,” in his incredibly scratchy morning voice and Nora finds that it really doesn’t help matters.

Because Harry Styles in the morning is something special. He looks good in every lighting, if Nora is being brutally honest, but there’s something about his puffy face and swollen lips and crackling voice that makes her appreciate him a little bit more than she probably should in the early hours of the day.

“It’s, uh, my fault. I was the one who fell asleep,” Nora offers lamely, raking her fingers through her matted hair to try and alleviate the awkwardness in the room.

And when Harry mutters, “I didn’t mind” at the same time Nora says, “I should probably go,” they both freeze and look at each other timidly. Harry’s wondering why he doesn’t want her to leave and Nora’s wondering why she wants to wrap her body around his again, and it’s all too much for nine in the morning.

But he’s still looking at her, and she’s still looking at him, and somehow they’ve both landed on solid ground for the first time. Harry’s finding out that he quite likes the look of her burrowed in his soccer sweatshirt and Nora’s discovering that she’s never slept better than when she was lying next to him, and when he asks her if she wants him to save their usual table at the dining hall for breakfast, Nora nods, thinking it’s the greatest idea in the world.

An hour later, after Nora’s gone back to her room to change (begrudgingly) into her own clothes and freshen up, it’s almost second nature when she falls into the seat across from Harry with a steaming plate of waffles and fruit. He has her coffee ready for her just the way she likes it, a splash of cream with one sugar cube, and she can’t help but match the grin covering the lower half of his face.

Even though Nora had the best sleep of her life, and waking up next to Harry was something she wishes she could do over and over and over again—she feels guilty. Because Harry is with Alyssa and Alyssa isn’t here and the whole thing makes her head throb painfully.

So, regretfully, Nora apologizes for what feels like the hundredth time that day.

“Nora, you’ve nothing to be sorry for. Please stop apologizing, it’s driving me mad,” Harry jokes, stealing the syrup from her hands and pouring a generous amount over his stack of waffles.

“It’s just—Alyssa’s your girlfriend. And I know she doesn’t necessarily like me, but that still doesn’t make it right to share a bed with you,” Nora explains even though she knows it’s driving Harry crazy.

Harry nods, dropping his silverware against his plate so that his attention is focused solely on the girl across from him. “I know, but as I said earlier, I didn’t mind. If I didn’t want you to stay, I would have said something,” and before he resumes eating, he adds quietly, “It’s not like Alyssa’s really my girlfriend.”

“What do you mean?” Nora asks, noticing the way Harry exhales out of his mouth slowly.

“For all intents and purposes, I guess you could call her that. But it’s really only surface level, because if our parents didn’t summer together every year and force us to be together, it probably never would have happened in the first place. But it did, and we put on this show and everybody thinks we’re this happy little couple. And maybe we were, for a short while. But I haven’t really been the nicest boyfriend to her and she’s strayed on more than one occasion, and it’s all sort of scrambled,” Harry admits, staring at his tray to avoid Nora’s eyes. If he did look up, though, he would have noticed the sadness floating through her eyes and the frown swooping over her lips.

The rumors about Harry flirting with other girls and the occasional sneaky kiss in back corner’s of parties have been brought to Nora’s attention on multiple occasions. And even the ones last spring about Alyssa sneaking out of Carter’s dorm room trickled down to Nora’s group of friends, but she did her best to ignore them. Because she knows better than anyone how the rumor mill works, and even though Alyssa, Carter, and Harry did nothing to help Nora, she still couldn’t bring herself to stoop down to their level.

“Sounds like an incestuous mess to me,” Nora decides to say, trying to bring an air of lightness to the sudden uncomfortable topic of discussion.

It works, and Harry finds himself chuckling loudly across the table. “Yeah, it’s all about labels. Kind of a shitty thing to admit, but I’ve never really loved Alyssa. Can’t say I see that happening in the future, either.” He’s willingly giving Nora information that he hasn’t even told anybody before, and she’s not quite sure what to do with that revelation.

“That’s quite sad,” Nora says softly.

“Why’s that?” Harry asks, curious.

“I don’t know. Sounds like you’re just wasting your time, I guess,” Nora pauses and Harry can tell she’s trying to figure out how to phrase her next thought. “Maybe I’ve watched one too many movies, so ignore me if I’m wrong, but being with somebody isn’t supposed to feel like a chore. It should be fun. Exhilarating, even. What you have with Alyssa just sounds—exhausting.”

When Harry’s quiet for a few moments, Nora suddenly realizes that what she had just said was probably completely out of order. “Sorry if I’m overstepping, that was probably rude of me.”

Noticing Nora’s distress, Harry gives her a small smile and just shrugs his shoulders. “You’re not overstepping. You’re probably right, if I’m being honest. But at this point, there’s no use in switching things up.” There’s a brief pause in which Nora breathes out a sigh of relief, reaching towards her coffee and taking a generous sip. Before Harry realizes what he’s saying, he asks her quickly, “Have you ever had that feeling?”

“What feeling?” Nora asks.

Harry grins shyly. “Being with someone and having it be fun and exhilarating.”

Nora nods slowly, thinking about Connor. “I think so. For a little while, at least.”

“What happened?” Harry’s not sure if he’s the one who’s overstepping now. But when he notices Nora’s cheeks blush ever so subtly and her lips quirk up into sentimental half-smile, he suddenly feels an uncomfortable knot form in his stomach. It’s twisting and turning and he’s never had this feeling before—not when he found out Alyssa was sleeping with Carter, not when his parents decided to go to St. Tropez without him, not ever. But with Nora sitting across from him looking wistfully in the distance, Harry’s found that he’s practically consumed with jealousy, and he fucking hates it.

“He moved away, and I had to come back here for school,” Nora explains, breaking out of her daydream and looking back towards Harry. When she notices the unreadable expression on his face, she decides to change the subject. “So, what do you want to do today?”

Harry tries his hardest to forget about Nora’s mystery man for the rest of the day, but he can’t help it. The jealousy is like a seed planted in the depths of his stomach, and he feels it growing and growing inside of him until he’s practically turned green with envy. And he has no fucking idea why it’s bothering him so much.

Hours later, they’re back in Nora’s room for another movie night after a day filled with exchanging their favorite novels and talking about things Harry’s never even discussed with his own friends. Nora chooses Notting Hill, thinking that out of all of the movies in her favorites list, this one has got to be one that Harry’s seen before.

But when he shakes his head when she holds up the plastic DVD cover in his direction, Nora’s mouth is already on the floor and Harry can’t help but laugh at her shocked expression.

“How have you never seen this?! You’re British! You should be ashamed! I’m calling Gordon Brown and asking him to revoke your citizenship,” Nora exclaims, setting up the DVD player and inserting the disc inside the tray. She’s changed into leggings and chose Harry’s soccer sweatshirt over the worn-in Townbridge one she’s owned since freshman year, and Harry feels giddy with pride at the thought of it all.

“I already apologized for it! Give me a break, Priestley!” Harry calls back, amusement lacing his words.

Nora finds herself giggling in response, and once the title screen is displayed on the television, she peeks over her shoulder and finds that Harry is getting himself comfortable on her bed. He’s wearing track bottoms and a cream-colored henley, and when he claims the spot near the wall and burrows underneath the quilt her mother cross-stitched for her last Christmas, Nora can’t wipe the silly grin off her face.

“This movie makes me want to visit London,” Nora admits, pressing play on the remote and walking towards her bed. When Harry opens up the blanket for Nora to slide into, she does so easily, feeling the most comfortable she’s ever felt in her entire life.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, dropping the blanket underneath Nora’s chin and throwing an arm around her shoulder.

Nora surprisingly doesn’t flinch. Instead, she curls closer to his body, resting her chin on the planes of his chest and her hand just below. “Yeah.”

“I think you’d like it,” Harry whispers against the crown of her head just as the opening scene begins.

The first few scenes of the movie pass by in comfortable silence. But just after Hugh Grant meets Julia Roberts in his bookstore, Nora can practically feel Harry’s brain whizzing because he’s thinking too hard. And just when it starts to become distracting, Nora asks, “What’re you thinking about? I can hear your brain churning from here.”

He exhales out a laugh and admits truthfully, “I keep thinking about your exhilarating crush.”

Nora feels stunned all of a sudden, her body freezing against his own. “Why?” she somehow chokes out through her dry throat.

Nora can hear the gulp Harry takes from above. “I dunno. Suppose I’m very interested to know what kind of guy swept Nora Priestley off her feet.”

She sits up with her back to the television, completely ignoring the movie playing behind her. The quilt falls from her shoulders and pools around her waist, and she’s suddenly grateful for the cooler air of her dorm room whipping against her neck, because she’s grown increasingly warm. Harry slides his body up on the bed until his torso is flushed against the headboard, staring at Nora with those green eyes that for the first time, aren’t dull. Instead, they’re almost twinkling in the dim lighting of her room.

His gaze is focused solely on Nora—on the messy fringe falling against her forehead, the gentle slope of her nose, the plushness of her pink lips, the angular curve of her jawline. The way she looks buried in his sweatshirt with the sleeves falling past her fingertips causes his heart to beat loudly inside his chest, and the overwhelming urge to kiss her has never been more prominent before in his life.

“I think I’ve always thought about it,” Harry admits quietly, his eyes never falling from her own. Because if they did move, he would have missed the way her mouth parted slightly, a small inhale slipping down her throat. He would have missed the way her eyes widened almost comically, the blueness reminding him of the sky on a pleasing, clear day. And when he takes all of that into consideration, he comes to the conclusion that Nora Priestley is undoubtedly beautiful, and probably always has been. He’s always just been too stupid to realize it.

“You never said anything,” Nora whispers back, staring at Harry with the same ferocity. “You never say anything.”

Harry nods, “I know.” And when he inches his body closer to hers and notices that she doesn’t back away from him, he adds, “I’m saying it now. Am I too late?”

Nora watches the way Harry leans towards her, his body being held up by his hands that are anchored to the mattress in front of her knees. Even though the movie is still playing from the television behind her, she can’t hear anything except for the accelerated beating of her heart racking against her ribs and pounding against her chest.

He’s so close to her now, the tip of his nose brushing against her own so tactfully that Nora’s not even sure if it’s actually happening. At this proximity, Nora can see inside his eyes and she finds that they’re not as green as she once thought. Instead, they’re almost a turquoise color, with golden hues circling his pupil and when she looks closely, she can see her own face in the reflection. And suddenly, that’s the only answer she needs before she’s wrapping her arms around his neck and crashing her lips against his own.

Even though Harry Styles is Nora’s third first kiss, it’s the best one she’s had yet. It’s slow at first, just the gentle pressure of two sets of lips pressing against the other’s. It’s hesitant, timid, nervous, until Harry wraps his arm around Nora’s back, pulling her closer towards him so that their fronts are completely flushed. After that, it’s intense, passionate, frenzied.

His teeth nip at her lower lip until she opens her mouth ever so slightly, allowing his tongue to slip through. Once Nora gets the message, she opens her mouth wider, angling her head to the side so that she can slip her own inside of his mouth, the two fleshy organs tangling together causing a reverberating hum to break from the back of Harry’s throat.

The sounds cause Nora to still, and when she breaks away and notices the dark hue in Harry’s eyes, the exasperated breaths causing his chest to rise and fall sporadically, the bright pinkness of his lips—it’s all Nora needs to push Harry back into his seated position against her headboard, crawling over on her knees until her legs are straddling his hips. She slinks both hands through his wild hair until they connect at the back of his head, and their lips connect for a second time.

This time, Nora’s not shy to let her teeth clink against Harry’s in a mad rush to gain dominance over their kiss. This time, Harry’s not reticent to let his hands roam the expanse of her back, slipping them underneath the bottom of his baggy sweatshirt so that his fingers can dance against her flushed skin without a barrier in between.

Nora’s hands fall from Harry’s hair to his neck, to the chain that rests against the middle of his chest that’s exposed through the unbuttoned part of his henley, all the way down his stomach until her fingers play with the hem of his shirt. When her nails lightly scratch against Harry’s lower stomach where Nora knows the tips of two tattooed ferns lie, he gets the hint and unlocks their lips, reaching his hands over her own and pulling his shirt up and over his head.

Nora sits back on Harry’s thighs, watching how Harry throws his crumpled shirt somewhere on the floor of her dorm room without care. His hair is mussed from a combination of Nora’s fingers and the quick way he removed his henley, and when Nora’s eyes ogle at the two identical swallows underneath his collarbones, the small definition of his chest, the butterfly permanently drawn in the middle of his stomach, to the small trail of hair below his belly button that disappears beneath the waistband of his track pants—she’s hot all over.

Her eyes lift back to Harry’s and find that he’s suddenly nervous. He’s blinking up at her with an indecipherable expression on his face, and when the hands that rest against her hips start to fall ever so softly, Nora grips the bottom of Harry’s sweatshirt and lifts it over her head, throwing it against the floor.

She’s sitting there, against his hips wearing a simple nude bra, and Harry feels his breath constricting in his throat at the sight of her. Her lips are swollen and her fringe is frizzy and when her teeth sink into her bottom lip and her cheeks begin to flush, Harry’s hands reach behind her neck to bring her down to his face. And just before their lips meet for the third time, he whispers, “You’re beautiful,” against her mouth, sealing it with his own so that she never forgets it.

Nora’s never done this before, but when Harry’s mouth falls to her neck and she accidentally grinds her hips into his own below in surprise, the groan that emits from his throat is practically feral. So, she does it again, her throat hitching when his teeth sink into the fleshy juncture of her shoulder and neck. One of his hands is tangled in her hair, and the other is resting on her hip. But when she grinds into him for the third time, he brings that hand up to the clasp of her bra, removing his lips from her neck and breathing against her mouth.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice sounding more strained than ever before. Nora finds that it’s unquestionably the hottest thing she’s ever heard, and when she brings her hands to rest on his searing chest, her nails scraping against his skin, the whine that falls from his lips might just be hotter.

“Yes,” Nora whispers back, holding her breath when his fingers easily undo the clasp, the straps sliding down her shoulders as the cups covering her breasts begin to fall. When she lowers her arms so that her elbows are no longer bent, the garment falls easily from her body and onto the mattress below.

Cautiously, she looks at Harry and finds that he’s looking into her eyes to make sure that she feels safe with him. The thought alone makes her nerves completely subside, and when she nods ever so slightly, Harry finally lets his eyes fall towards her chest. She watches him as he sits up, bringing his lips to the base of her throat as he places gentle kisses along the expanse of her neck, down to her sternum, until his lips are centimeters away from her breasts. When her fingers tangle into his curly hair, Harry peeks up at her briefly before placing his mouth around her right nipple, his hand softly massaging her left.

Nora’s head falls back and a moan tears through her throat, and it’s the first time that’s ever happened in her life. Harry stills, his lips moving slightly so that he can watch her, and it’s enough to make the bulge in his pants grow until it’s practically unbearable. His tongue continues to move down her body, kissing along the lines on her stomach until his hand moves to rub the fleshy part of Nora’s hips, hesitantly moving towards the front of her body. And when his right hand cups her legging-clad core, Nora’s hands halt in Harry’s hair, and he removes his lips from her body and looks at her.

“I don’t think I’m—” Nora pauses, her confident streak breaking. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t planning on having sex with you,” Harry says softly, bringing his hand up to take a piece of her blonde hair that’s fallen in front of her face and tucking it behind her ear. “We can do something else if you’d like. But the second you’re uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll stop. Okay?” He’s never been this patient with somebody before in his life, and somehow Nora can sense that. She’s incredibly grateful for Harry then, and once her breathing has regulated and she’s no longer anxious, she nods, pecking him softly on the lips.

Harry pecks her back once, twice, thrice until cupping his hand back against her front. He rubs her slowly then, and when Nora feels the stickiness from inside her underwear permeate through the thin material, she shudders against his body. His fingers curl into the waistband of her leggings, and after asking her for permission, she lifts her hips and her knees so that he can pull the black material halfway down her legs, leaving Nora in just her simple baby blue underwear.

Harry resumes his ministrations, causing Nora to wrap her arms around his neck, her elbows resting against his shoulders as her body quivers again. And when his fingertips sneak underneath the material, a long finger gently stroking her slit, Nora’s hands use Harry’s hair as an anchor as her forehead rests against his own as she emits a blissful sigh. Just before his finger slides in, he brings his lips against hers so that he can feel her moans hit the back of his throat.

It’s uncomfortable and awkward at first, and when her breath hitches in her throat and her lips break away from Harry’s, he pauses, looking at her with concern. “Do you want me to stop?”

Nora looks at him, her hand ruffling his hair tenderly as she shakes her head. Grinning, Harry brings his lips back to hers, resuming pumping his finger inside of her.

After a few strokes, Nora starts to feel her rigid body unraveling, and suddenly she’s matching Harry’s rhythm as she grinds down onto his finger. When his wet thumb starts to circle her swollen mound, another moan rips from her throat, causing their kisses to halt.

“I love that,” Harry whispers against her mouth, sucking her lower lip between his own and beginning to move his hand faster.

The stickiness is accruing inside her underwear and Nora can feel sweat brimming at the nape of her neck. She feels hot to the touch, and when Harry changes his thumb strokes from clockwise to counter-clockwise, a fluttering like no other vibrates through her lower stomach as she whines into his mouth.

“I think you’re close,” Harry says, bringing his hand that isn’t inside of her around her lower back to keep her steady. And when his finger curls and presses against a spongy spot inside of her, Nora feels the fluttering turn into a full-blown explosion, and suddenly her eyes close shut at the ferocity of it all.

Nora stills on top of him, feeling the stickiness begin to coat her inner thighs as a loud moan rips from her throat. Her hands move from Harry’s hair to his shoulder blades, and when she opens her eyes and realizes that her fingernails have carved crescent moons into the flesh, she immediately removes them.

The warmth has gone, and in its place, a numbing sort of calmness. Harry removes his hand from inside her underwear and when he looks up at her and sees her irises blown out and her cheeks pinkened and her lower lip indented by her front teeth, he grins smugly and kisses her softly.

“Alright?” he asks once her eyes have opened fully and she no longer is panting against his cheek.

Nora nods, a bit shy considering she just had her first orgasm and she’s not quite sure what to do next. She looks down and notices the bulge in Harry’s pants, and smiles at him unsurely. “If you tell me what to do, I can, er, help you out?”

Harry smirks, running a gentle hand through her hair and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, babe. Just, uh, give me a mo’. I’ll be right back,” he says softly, placing two hands on her hips and lifting her slowly so that she’s no longer straddling his waist.

When she pulls her leggings back on, the stickiness is far too uncomfortable between her thighs. Harry notices her wiggle on the mattress and chuckles to himself, finding it all too adorable. When he gets up from her bed, shifting his pants so that his erection is less painful, he turns towards Nora before crossing the hall into the communal bathrooms.

“Where do you keep your linens?” Harry asks from his position by her door. Confusedly, Nora points towards the wardrobe near her desk and he opens it slowly, grabbing a folded hand towel and passing it to her. She smiles softly, thanking him before watching him retreat into the hallway.

After Nora’s changed her underwear and put on a pair of sleep shorts, sliding Harry’s sweatshirt back over her body once her skin has cooled down, she gets back under the covers and turns her attention towards Notting Hill. Harry comes in a few minutes later, the front of his pants lacking a distinct bulge. He looks over and notices her lying comfortably in her bed, and when she moves her eyes from the screen to his figure standing in the doorway, a cute grin covers the lower half of her face.

“You coming to bed?” Nora asks, patting the spot on the mattress beside her. With a quick smile, Harry walks towards her, lifting his body over her own so that he can resume his position by the wall. And just as his arms are on either side of her body, his shirt still somewhere on her floor and his pants low on his hips, he sneaks a kiss from her lips before plopping down next to her, wrapping an arm over her shoulders tightly.

“Think we can start this movie over?” Harry asks, playing with the ends of Nora’s hair that falls inside the hood of his sweatshirt.

Nora hits rewind, wondering if it’ll hurt falling asleep with a grin permanently stuck on her face.

The next morning, Nora wakes up feeling far too warm. Her backside is flushed completely with Harry’s front, and he’s spooning her tightly. His arms are wrapped securely around Nora’s stomach and she can feel his breath against the side of her neck in hot spurts, his nose brushing the spot underneath her ear. His curly hair is tickling the sides of her face and his legs are slotted between her own and Nora’s never been so tangled up with somebody else before.

And while it’s comforting, there’s no denying that Harry’s body heat is pervading through her skin, and when she wiggles to try and figure out a way to lower the duvet from underneath her chin, it causes Harry to wake up.

As his eyes flutter open, he subconsciously brings Nora’s body closer to his own, and when he finally does open his eyes fully, he notices how close they’ve gotten in the middle of the night. Harry’s not quite sure how it happened, but somehow being wrapped up with Nora Priestley has caused him to have the best night’s sleep of his entire life.

“Morning,” she whispers, her chin resting on her left shoulder as she peeks at him behind her. Her blue eyes are foggy in the morning and her lips are beautifully swollen, and even though her hair is knotted and her cheeks have red jagged lines from her pillowcase all over them, he can’t help but grin back at her, finding her perfect.

“Hi,” he says back, his voice cracking from lack of use. They both roll over so that their backs are flat on the mattress. And just when Harry’s about to swing his arm over Nora’s shoulder to bring her closer to his body so that they can fall back asleep, his Blackberry rings loudly from the nightstand.

Before he can let it go to voicemail, he reaches around Nora’s body to grab it, gulping when he sees Alyssa’s name across the screen. Apprehensively, he brings the phone to his ear, ignoring the heat of Nora’s gaze against his cheek.

“Hello?” he mumbles halfheartedly.

“Baby! Wake up, sleepyhead! We’ll all be back on campus in, like, two hours. Our flight just landed. When will you get in?” Nails scraping down a chalkboard would be a better sound than the one he just heard through the speaker of his mobile. Because suddenly, his Nora Priestley bubble has popped. Their ten-day vacation has come to an abrupt end, and Harry can feel the panic begin to spread throughout his body.

“Harry? You there?” Alyssa asks, and it’s only then when Harry realizes he’s been deadly silent.

He coughs into his fist uncomfortably, before saying, “Hey, sorry. Uh, sounds good. My flight got in a few hours ago. I’m actually, er, pulling into campus now,” Harry lies. The familiar feeling of shame washes over him, and when he feels Nora slide out of bed beside him, a puzzled look falling across her face, he’s never felt worse in his life.

“Perfect! Can’t wait to see you, baby!” Alyssa squeals, and before Harry can respond, he hangs up the phone, tossing it purposelessly against the end of her bed.

It’s silent between the two, and not the sort of comfortable silence that they’ve grown accustomed to with each other. Instead, it’s heavy, weighing them both down until they feel fatigued under the burden of it all.

Nora knows deep down that this is it. The Harry she’s grown to adore the past ten days is no longer there. In its place is the cold, disheartening, lifeless Harry that she’s hated ever since he casted her out during the First Year Mixer almost four years ago. Just like with Connor, her romance with Harry is fleeting. It has an expiration date. And sadly, they’ve reached their end.

He doesn’t say much, and she doesn’t expect him to. He’s clearly tormented by all of this, getting out of her bed ploddingly as he scans the floor for his clothing from the night before. He’s distracted as he puts on his wrinkled Henley, slides on his boots without tying them, slips his arms inside his trench coat, and places everything else he can try to remember inside the pockets. And just before he leaves her room, he stops and turns, looking at her with those dull, green eyes from before.

This is it, Nora thinks, watching the way his eyes fall from her face towards his big sweatshirt on her body to her long legs hidden underneath her tiny sleep shorts. He’s going to apologize. He’s going to come back to bed. He’s going to—

“Can I have my jumper back?” Nora feels as if she’s just been kicked in the chest, air ripping from her lungs and falling into the space between her and Harry. She’s never felt so small in her life. And when his eyes are still dull and his foot begins to tap impatiently and he looks as if he’s about to burst, Nora knows this is truly it. The Harry she knows is officially gone.

Or maybe this is who Harry really is. And the version she got was just a figment of her imagination, an imposter Harry, a Harry that only existed within the ten days of Holiday break inside an empty Townbridge Academy.

With shaking hands, Nora rips the sweatshirt off her body, ignoring the fact that she’s only wearing a sports bra below. She flings the material at Harry’s chest, and she hopes that it diverts his attention from her trembling lips and tear-filled eyes.

He sees everything, though. And without another word, he pivots on his foot, his back towards Nora as he enters the hallway and closes her door tightly, trying his hardest to ignore the sound of her crying through the heavy oak.

Nora should have expected it, in hindsight. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

This time around, it’s not like Carter Donnelly. Instead of spreading rumors to their classmates, Harry says nothing—not even a lie to his friends, not even a subtle brag about how he was the first person to ever see Nora Priestley come undone—nothing. He keeps quiet, barely looks at her, and goes about his life the way he always has—as Townbridge’s Golden Boy, the prodigal son, who always gets whatever he wants.

And that’s what hurt the most.

Harry has enough pressure in his life—pressure from his father, pressure from his friends, pressure from fucking everybody who looks his way. It’s enough to break somebody in half, so succumbing to both is easier than fighting them.

So when his friends come back to campus and resume their lives the way they always have, Harry can’t help but follow suit. Because telling them that he spent the past ten days with Nora Priestley is simply not an option, even if they were the best ten days he’s ever had. And it’s a heartbreaking realization, because even though Harry doesn’t really care for his friends that much, he still doesn’t want to disappoint them.

Whenever he passes by Nora in the hallway, he doesn’t bother looking in her direction. When he can feel her gaze on his back in AP English, he doesn’t turn around. And when he sees her sitting at the table in the dining hall that they deemed their own for ten days, he doesn’t say anything. He just feels his heart freezing over until it’s an icy block inside of his chest.

And when he’s taking pictures with Alyssa at prom and notices Nora’s pretty blue dress that makes her eyes shine, he almost feels the ice crack. But then she looks at him, for only the briefest of moments, and in that minuscule period of time, he can see the disappointment and anger in her eyes, and it’s enough to make the ice harden.

Harry tries to convince himself that when he’s standing on stage with Alyssa with a plastic crown on his head, he doesn’t notice a flurry of blue exit through the front door. Because when he looks out in the crowd and sees an empty spot near Lydia and Margot that Nora once filled, he knows for sure that the flurry of blue was her. And halfway through his dance with Alyssa, when he’s looking at her strawberry-blonde hair and hazel eyes and makeup-filled face and expensive purple dress, Harry feels empty inside. Because he doesn’t want this anymore. He doesn’t want to be around her or his shitty friends anymore.

So he leaves.

But it’s too late—of course it’s too late. Because second chances don’t come to people like Harry, and it’s in Nora’s best interest for him to leave her alone. He’s caused enough hurt in her life, he’s done enough irreparable damage to last a lifetime.

During graduation, Harry tries his best to not look two rows ahead of him and stare at Nora in her red cap and gown. And when her name is called, he tries to ignore the singular cheer from the back of the Great Hall, the cacophonous finger whistle echoing off the walls following shortly after. He wonders if he’s the only person who can see the glimmer of pride in Nora’s eyes when she locates her mother in the back of the room. And when Alyssa scoffs under her breath from the row behind him, muttering a, “How fucking embarrassing,” to her friends, Harry turns around and tells her to fuck off.

As he’s stoically taking pictures with his mother and father in the quad after the ceremony, he sees Nora and her mother in his periphery. He’s never seen her look more beautiful than when she’s smiling with her mom, clinging to her so that they can share this moment together. And when he notices her mother’s matching blue eyes filled with pride, he looks at his own set of parents and wonders if they’ve ever looked at him like that before.

It’s almost enough to make the ice melt. But then his father is taking a business call and his mother is whisked away to talk about society functions with Alyssa’s mom, and Harry’s left standing there completely and utterly alone.

“That boy’s looking at you, Nora,” her mother says, eyes falling on somebody over Nora’s shoulder. “Do you know him?”

When Nora turns around and sees Harry standing there, green eyes full of hope and yearning and wonder, she doesn’t spare him a second look. Her head whips around just as quickly, looking at her mother with a small shake of her head.

“Nope, I don’t know him at all,” Nora says, meaning every word.

And when she drives away from Townbridge for the final time, she’s suddenly brimming with happiness at the fact that she’ll never have to see those people again. And more importantly, she’ll never have to see Harry Styles for as long as she lives.

*** A/N: When I started writing Fade, it sort of ended up playing out in three acts. So with that, this is officially the end of Act One (and officially my favorite chapter of the entire high school years.) Let me know your thoughts and predictions, my inbox is always open for those who want to scream at me. It’s probably going to happen a lot with this story. 

To make room for editing and ensuring I have enough written ahead of time for Act Two to keep with the weekly update schedule, (and because I sort of like the idea of separating things into acts because I’m annoying like that) I’ll be taking a week to sort everything out. Therefore, the next chapter and start of Act Two will be posted on Friday, March 12th. Until then, stay safe and be kind! x

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[dameronology]

tea & whiskey {jack daniels x reader} - 2

part two: a comprehensive study of how far you can push a cowboy before he breaks

summary: you continue to try and break jack’s ego, but nothing seems to be working - especially when you have to play a married couple, and his observant tendencies begin to break your confident facade instead 

song for this chapter: my friend by hayley williams

ok so this wasn’t gonna be out until december 1st but someone who donated to my ko-fi asked for part 2 and...i couldn’t resist. this also touches a little more on the reader + eggsy’s relationship and it’s background. enjoy!

- jamie

series masterlist

You had to give to the the Statesmen - the apartment they had leased you was fucking nice. 

It struck the balance between modern and homely, complete with a bath tub big enough for the whole damn agency and a bed to match. You knew that they had money, but not this much. The Kingsmen were wealthy but the Statesman put them to shame. It was a lifestyle you were happy to get used to, especially on the first morning. You’d woken up not long after 6AM - your body was still working on British time, after all - when it was still dark outside. The navy blue of the sky was pouring through the large windows, and paired with the remaining city lights, it lit up the bedroom in a cerulean glow. 

Blinking under the distant blue smoulder, you rubbed your eyes and sat up in bed. The bedroom itself was about the same size as your apartment back home and man, it was something you could have easily gotten used to. A bathtub the size of a swimming pool? Don’t mind if I do. A bed big enough to roll to your heart's content and not fall out? Fuck yeah. It made you wonder how rich some of your new colleagues were. You had noticed that Tequila drove an unusually expensive sports car. 

You frowned when you noticed that there was something heavy sprawled across your feet. It wasn’t necessarily in the bed, but rather strewn across the duvet. You rolled your eyes, letting out a sigh. 

‘Fuck’s sake, Eggsy!’ you raised your leg, kicking him front under the covers. ‘Why the bloody hell are you in here?’

Your friend suddenly jumped awake, almost falling off the mattress as you kicked him again. ‘Ow! Ribs!’

‘Well?’

‘Well what?’

‘You haven’t tried to share a bed with me since we were ten!’ You tossed a pillow at him. ‘So I’ll ask again - why the bloody hell are you in here?’

‘I couldn’t sleep.’ He grumbled. 

Your frown softened, and you let out a sigh. ‘Have you been having nightmares about Galahad again? Because Merlin said he was making strides towards getting better-’

‘- That day from the church is still ingrained in my head.’ Eggsy cut you off, tucking his knees into his chest and under his chin. ‘It keeps playing over and over.’

It was something you sympathised with. Working as a Kingsman brought good days and bad days, but the latter would stick in your mind a thousand times more. You’d learnt to live with it by that point but then again, you were easier at separating your emotions from your professional life. You had a good rapport with your colleagues - minus the doofus at the foot of your bed, who might as well have been an annoying brother - but you tried not to become attached. It only made it harder when you lost them, 

‘Time, Eggsy.’ You leant over the bed to give his arm a squeeze. ‘You need time.’

‘It’s been almost a year-’

‘- recovery isn’t a race.’ You firmly interrupted. ‘And healing isn’t linear, for you or for Gala - for Harry.’ 

You’d become so accustomed to codenames that they felt personal. Harry was Galahad, and Amish was Merlin. You’d never called Roxy anything other than Lancelot. It just didn’t feel right. 

‘I hate when you make sense-’

Eggy’s rumbling was cut off by the sound of the front door and the fall of footsteps. You immediately leapt out of bed, tearing your gun from the bedside table. Pointing it out in front of you, you slowly kicked open the door and crept out in the hallway, weapon leading the way. 

‘Morning sunshine-’ Whiskey stopped in his tracks when he saw the pistol aimed in his direction. ‘Well that ain’t a very warm welcome is it, Percy?’

‘Percy?’ The words rolled off of your tongue with a tone of disbelief. Admittedly, the new nickname shouldn’t have been your first concern when you were a) wearing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pajamas and b) pointing a gun at your new colleague, but priorities didn’t apply in this situation.

‘Short for Percival!’ Eggsy called from the bedroom.

‘Oh, I do apologise.’ He held his hands up in surrender. ‘Was I interrupting something-’

‘- Gross!’ You exclaimed. ‘No!’

‘Hey!’ Another call from the bedroom. ‘You would be lucky-’

You cut your friend off by slamming the bedroom door. ‘What do you want, Whiskey? It’s six in the fucking morning.’

‘And yet you’re up and pointing a gun at my head.’ The cowboy reasoned, complete with a small shrug. ‘Want to put the weapon down, pretty lady?’

Growling at the use of another nickname, you threw the gun onto one of the side-tables. That was when you realised you’d sprinted out the bedroom in cartoon pajamas, only to come face-to-face with Whiskey, who was in his usual leather jacket and hat. Frankly, you should have slapped it right off his head. That would have taught him to come bursting into your apartment at the crack of dawn. 

‘Maybe knock next time?’ You suggested, stalking through to the kitchen. ‘Especially considering that it’s not even light outside. A little bit predatorial, don’t you think?’

‘If you’d checked the schedule I emailed you, you would know that we have to be in the field in forty-five minutes.’ Jack shot back, leaning against the counter. ‘You should check your phone more often. I thought that most of your generation had their cell-phones glued to their hands.’

‘Okay, grandad.’ You snorted. His dark eyes followed you as you darted around the kitchen, piling together a cup of coffee on autopilot. ‘What’re we doing in the field?’

‘Recon.’ He said. ‘One of Calahan’s contacts has been spotted working a jewellery stand down at 30 Rock.’

‘Okay, give me thirty minutes.’ You tossed a piece of bread into the toaster.

‘Dress...touristy.’ 

--

‘That is not touristy.’

Usually, Jack Daniels would have been the last person to object to a woman wearing a dress and heels, but you were supposed to be blending in with crowds, not standing out. He clearly hadn’t got the memo that you didn’t do casual - not in a professional sense, at least. In some way, you were matching, because you too were wearing a leather jacket. It was a staple in your wardrobe. 

‘Would you rather I have stayed in the turtle pajamas?’ You glanced across the table at him, thinning your eyes. 

‘Tourists don’t wear Christian Louboutins.’ The cowboy muttered. 

‘I wear Christian Louboutins.’ You shot back. ‘But points for recognizing the brand.’ 

‘Here.’ Jack swiped a t-shirt off of a cart as they passed by, thrusting a fifty in the vendor’s hand. ‘Wear this.’ 

He shoved a t-shirt into your hand; it was about ten sizes too big for you with ‘I ❤️  NY’ blazoned across the front. For a minute, you thought he was kidding, but Jack’s serious expression barely faltered. You tried to counter the look, quirking your brow as if to say yeah, good one. 

‘I’m serious, Agent. We can’t blow our cover.’ 

‘What cover?’ You frowned. ‘You never said anything about a cover.’ 

‘Our guy works for a jewelry vendor.’ Jack flashed a grin at you, before pulling a pair of glasses out of his pocket. ‘We need to get inside and get footage of the shop for the agents coming in tonight. These babies will live stream it right back to Ginger HQ.’

‘So I have to go jewelry shopping?’ 

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘We are going ring shopping, Mrs Daniels.’ 

‘You’re not serious.’ Your eyebrows shot up. 

‘I think we would make a very attractive couple.’ He retorted. ‘A bright-eyed Brit falling in love with a cowboy, their feelings for each other spanning the Pacific-’

‘- Atlantic-’

‘- ocean.’ 

‘Whatever.’ You pulled off your jacket, yanking the t-shirt from his hands and tugging it over your head. The shirt ended up being longer than your dress, and with your tights and heels it worked in a way that it definitely shouldn’t have. ‘Let’s just get this over and done with. I’m tired.’

‘Incidentally, that’s something you would also say if you were my wife.’

You responded again with a groan, elongating it slightly when Jack wound an arm around your waist, as though somebody had just yelled action! 

How hard could it be? You’d been undercover as part of a couple before - admittedly, that had been with people you’d already had a rapport with, and ones who didn’t drive you up the wall as much as Whiskey. Eggsy was a close call, but having been your best friend for the better part of twenty years, it was easy to convince people you were a real couple. It had been a little awkward with Merlin and you had almost flat out refused to do it with Galahad, but there hadn’t been so much at risk then. If this recon went well, it could lead to leaps and strides in your bigger mission. Finding Calahan, proving yourself worthy of a promotion and eventual world domination (in a hero kinda way). 

‘Let’s go over the fine details.’ You murmured to him, glancing around as you entered the shopping strip inside 30 Rock. ‘Where did we meet?’

‘London. I was on a business trip.’ Whiskey quickly replied. ‘How did I propose?’

‘In front of the Eiffel Tower.’ You said. ‘And where do we live now?’

‘Kentucky, but we’re in New York because we plan on getting married here.’ He said. ‘You ready?’

‘Let’s go.’ You linked your arms with his, plastering on a fake grin as you entered the jewelry store.  ‘My glasses are recording this straight back to HQ.’

‘Hey there, cowboy!’ Calahan’s contact greeted you immediately. He wasn’t what you’d expected - the man was decked out in a suit and tie, complete with a dodgy looking spray tan and teeth so white they could probably reflect the fucking sun. ‘And pretty lady.’

It had been bad enough when Whiskey called you that. But this guy? Gross - and Jack couldn’t help but notice how you tensed up at the nickname. 

‘Watch it, pal.’ Jack joked. ‘That’s my fiancee you’re talking to.’

‘And I assume that’s what brings you in today?’ He flashed a grin at you. ‘I couldn’t help but notice she doesn’t have a ring.’

‘See if you can move closer to the case by the fire exit.’ Ginger’s voice came over your earpiece. 

‘These ones here look pretty!’ You suddenly exclaimed, grabbing Jack by the arm and yanking him in the direction that Ginger had requested. The cowboy let out a surprised yelp as you did, stumbling slightly as you dragged him across the store. 

‘Perfect. Thank you.’ She quietly said over the line. 

‘Any in particular catch your eye, Miss…’

‘It will be Mrs Jones when we get married.’ You plastered on the biggest shit-eating grin that you could muster. ‘And that one in the top corner is very pretty.’

‘That’s one of our most expensive rings.’ The jeweler’s grin was bigger than yours. ‘Is your event going to be as big? You know...price wise?’

‘Oh yeah!’ You chimed in, barely giving Jack a chance to think. ‘We’re renting out the Plaza Hotel. I’m wearing a vintage Emanuel dress inspired by the Princess of Wales and our honeymoon is three weeks in the Bahamas.’

You just had to ramble for a little bit longer whilst Jack looked around to get the footage. Luckily, it was something you were good at. You could talk somebody’s ear off if you had to and bullshit to the next degree; it had saved your ass on missions more times than you’d care to admit. If you ever retired from the Kingsman, you probably had a promising career as an actress. 

‘All this before you’ve chosen a ring?’ He raised his eyebrows at you. You’d been quick on your feet - so much so that you’d tripped and fallen. 

‘My baby’s been planning this thing since was a little girl.’ Whiskey quickly stepped in. ‘And it’s my job to make sure she gets it.’

‘He’s a lawyer.’ You went up on your tiptoes, pressing a kiss to Jack’s cheek. ‘I’m marrying good.’

‘Oh!’ The jeweler glanced between the two of you. ‘This makes more sense now.’

‘Right, we’ve got enough footage.’ Merlin said. ‘You two can get the bloody hell out of there before I puke.’

After making an appointment to return the following day - which neither of you planned on going to, obviously - Jack took your hand and led you out the store. To keep up appearances, you kept your fingers intertwined as you walked back through the shopping mall. The fact you had managed to play a believable couple on such short notice was almost astounding. 

‘Oh my god.’ You murmured, glancing over your shoulder as you exited the mall and turned the corner. You pulled your hand back from Jack’s, stifling a laugh. ‘I can’t believe we actually managed to do it.’

‘Why are you so shocked?’ Whiskey peered down at you, a grin playing on his lips. ‘Like I said - we would make a very attractive couple, sugar.’

‘In your dreams, Daniels.’ You shot back. ‘But if I ever do end up in a relationship like that? Shoot me. I beg you.’

You kept strolling together, slowly heading for the Statesman headquarters - but neither of you were in a rush. Whatever the hell that was had just broken the initial tension between you, and you were actually enjoying one another’s company for the moment. 

‘What’s wrong with it?’ He asked. ‘Ain’t nothing bad about a man looking after his woman.’

‘That’s so outdated.’ You groaned. 

‘It’s not!’ Jack protested. ‘A man looks after his girl and his girl looks after him. Or a husband and husband, or wife and wife-’

‘- how progressive of you.’ You cut him off, rolling your eyes. ‘I don’t rely on anyone. Ever. I look after myself.’

It was probably a cultural difference. Jack had grown up in the south, in a household where his dad worked and his mum looked after the house. It had been the same with his late wife; had things not gone the way they had, he’d probably be the breadwinner whilst she stayed home with the kids. You, meanwhile, had grown up in a working class area of London where a majority of the households were headed by women - and most of the time, single women. If there was some unheard of future where you got married and had kids, like hell would you give up your career. Your job was your baby. 

‘We all need people to look after us sometimes.’ Jack nudged you with his elbow.

You shook your head. ‘Not me.’

‘Well you sound like a real heart-breaker, Miss Independent.’ 

‘It’s my speciality.’ 

--

Once you’d handed over the footage from your glasses to Ginger, you and Whiskey headed to the office. There was a comfortable silence between you - pretending to be a married couple had been one hell of an ice breaker. At least it was proof that you and Jack could work well together. You’d stayed on the same page for the entirety of your little improv love story, and it meant your first mission, however minor, had been a success. If working with him was going to like that for the rest of your time in New York, you might have been able to tolerate him and his ridiculous Southern drawl. 

(Not to mention the nicknames. It left you wondering if Jack had forgotten your actual name and was too afraid to ask.) 

Eggsy was waiting for you in the lobby outside the lift. He was leant against the wall, feet crossed in front of him as he tapped away on his phone. A frown came over your face when you realised that he had a bag beside him. He was scheduled to stay in the city with you until at least the following weekend. You had plans for a few days time to try and use your contacts to sneak into a filming of Saturday Night Live. 

‘Hey!’ Your best friend brightly greeted you. ‘Guess what? Tilde called!’

‘That’s great!’ You forced a smile. ‘So you’re heading back to London tonight?’

‘Yeah.’ His grin didn’t falter. ‘I figured since you two played a married couple successfully, you didn’t need me to stick around to babysit you and make sure you didn’t eat him alive.’

‘It’s still early days.’ You reasoned. ‘Are you sure you don’t wanna stay a couple more days? Adam Driver’s the guest on SNL this weekend.’

‘I gotta get back and fix things, man.’ Eggsy said. ‘I just wanted to say goodbye before I left.’

‘Right, of course.’ You held your arms out to him. 

He stepped forward and wrapped his own around you, lifting you off the ground and giving you a tight squeeze. If you had to choose one of your favourite things about Eggsy, it would have to be his hugs. The only reason you’d stopped calling him Hugsy was because he’d threatened to take them away entirely. They were far and few, usually when you were going to spend time apart, but you always appreciated them. 

‘I’ll see you in a few weeks, tops.’ He said, placing you back on the ground. ‘And I promise we’ll get into SNL then.’

‘You better.’ You poked his chest. ‘I’ll miss you, Egghead.’

‘I’ll miss you more.’

You let out a tiny sigh as Eggsy picked up his bags and headed for the lift. You weren’t mad at him for going home early - just disappointed. And not at him, just at the situation, It had been a long time since you’d got to properly spend time together outside of work. Above all, however, you knew you had to respect his relationship. What kind of friend would you be to stand in the way of him and love? 

Once he was out of sight, you regathered yourself and headed to the office. Jack was already inside, his feet propped up on the desk and a glass of his namesake whiskey in hand. It was the first time he’d taken off his hat in front of you, and his hair was a little ruffled from it. 

‘Don’t need anyone my ass’ was the greeting he offered you. 

‘What?’ You furrowed your brow. 

Jack pushed his feet back to the floor, handing you your own glass of...well, Jack.  ‘I saw the way you looked at your boy, Percy.’

‘I told you before!’ You snatched the glass from his hand, dropping into your chair. ‘Eggsy is not my boyfriend.’

‘Doesn’t have to be’.’ He shrugged. ‘You looked like you were losing your brother. Tweedle Dum ain’t nothing without Tweedle Dee.’ 

Eggsy was your brother, by all intents and purposes. Heck, he might as well have been your twin. Your fathers had been best friends when they were in Kingsman, and you and him were reflections of that. You’d gone through every high and low of your teenage years together, and eventually adulthood. As previously established, he often came to you and he often needed you, but you hated to consider how it might have gone the other way. He was the only exception to your needing no one rule. And, considering that not even your own mother had made the cut, it was actually quite complimentary. 

‘I don’t need Eggsy.’ You insisted. 

‘How long have you known each other?’ Jack ignored your statement, instead posing a question. ‘Since school?’

‘No. He’s six months older than me, so...my whole life.’

‘I rest my case.’

‘You know nothing, Whiskey!’ You exclaimed. ‘You can’t make massive assumptions about me when you’ve known me for two days.’

‘I’ve met a woman like you before.’ He replied. He pondered for a moment, and his eyes were almost...vacant. ‘She pretended she didn’t need a damn person either, but she did.’

‘And who was that?’ You thinned your eyes at me. ‘Because I can’t think of a single person who I need.’ 

‘She needed me.’ He casually shrugged. ‘And I needed her.’

‘Right. Naturally.’ You murmured. ‘It’s too early for this, Whiskey.’

‘Got too deep for you, Tea?’

‘The hell did you just call me?’

‘Tea.’ He offered you a shit eat grin. ‘Get it? Because you’re British-’

‘- this face isn’t because I didn’t get it.’ You cut him off. ‘And on that note, I am done here. I shall be working from home this evening and possibly for the rest of eternity.’ 

Swiping your glass up, you poured the entirety of its contents down your throat in one swig, before slamming it back on the table. The whiskey burnt for a split second, but it felt good - and you didn’t need to be skidding down that slippery slope at two in the afternoon. Gathering up your bag, you swung it over your shoulder and stood up. 

‘Oh, c’mon!’ Jack protested. ‘We were just starting to get along, sugar!’

‘We were!’ You shot back, pausing when you were half-way out the door. ‘Then you started therapising me.’

He grinned at you. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Maybe.’

‘You’re contractually obliged!’

‘Fuuuck off!’ 

#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey imagine #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels imagine #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels x you #kingsman x you #kingsman x reader #kingsman imagine #pedro pascal characters

[sparrow-flies-south]

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

Pairings: Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil) Summary: Virgil has a bad day. Remus makes things better, in his own way. Warnings: One line mention of transphobic relatives,  Notes: Written as a gift for @rem-sl33p as part of @sanderssidesgiftxchange! 

Thanks to @droidofmay for beta reading

Masterpost Read on AO3

It was one of those days that started off bad and got worse from there.

First, Virgil had slept through his alarm, and only woke up when Remus realised it was five minutes until he had to leave and he still wasn’t up yet. He managed to make it to work on time, but only barely. The same couldn’t be said for one of his coworkers, who didn’t bother showing up at all, so Virgil had to do the work for both of them.

And then there had been the rush of people trying to buy presents in time for Christmas, and his manager, who was exceptionally grumpy today, had kept snapping at Virgil for not doing things fast enough, even though he was doing the work of two people.

Then he’d been late leaving, so he’d missed his bus and had to wait in the cold for the next one – it started snowing, what the fuck – and then Remus had stopped answering his texts.

It took him a few stops to notice, and sure, Remus could get distracted sometimes, but what if he wasn’t. Look, Virgil knew what he was like, okay, he knew he could be an asshole at the best of times, and today certainly wasn’t one of those times. He scrolled back through the messages to try to see if he’d done anything wrong – was Remus annoyed he’d be late back, should he not have replied with that whole novel when Remus asked what was wrong, what if he’d gotten offended when Virgil replied K to one of Remus’ texts?

Yeah, he ended up with three more stops of panicking about that, before finally making it home. Theatrics really wasn’t his thing, but when he saw his door come into sight, he was about ready to burst into tears from relief.

Not that being home would solve the potential Remus problem, but still, he might be able to disappear under the covers and never came out after.

He was just about to open the door when it opened for him, and Janus stepped out.

Janus’ eyes widened –apparently he hadn’t known Virgil was out there. “Ah, Virgil. Hello.”

Normally Virgil would be happy to see Janus – they’d met in the same local trans group, and Janus had been the one to introduce Virgil to Remus, all those years ago – but right now, he just wanted this day to be over.

“What are you doing here?” Virgil asked.

A moment of hesitation, and then, “Remus and I are having an affair.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Congratulations. Can I get into my apartment now?”

Janus stepped aside. “I heard you had a long day.”

“Getting longer by the minute,” Virgil muttered, and crap, now he was doing the asshole thing again.

Janus just smiled, though. Probably because Janus was also an asshole, so it balanced out. “If you need help with that, let me know.”

Virgil rolled his eyes again. “Janus, when I complained about my cousins being transphobic, you told me to push them down the stairs.”

“I object to that, your honour,” Janus said. “The technical wording was ‘nudge’. And it’s advice that can be applied in many aspects of life.”

“Good bye Janus,” Virgil said, reaching for the door. He hesitated. “Hey, Janus? Did Remus seem, uh, annoyed? At me, I mean.”

Janus’ face softened. “Oh, Virgil,” he said. “Answering yes would be a lie too big for even me.”

Janus left, and Virgil was stuck staring at the door. This was fine. Janus had said Remus wasn’t mad, in his roundabout way of doing so. Unless Janus had lied, which he was prone to do, but not in situations like this. Or unless Remus had been hiding it from Janus, because Virgil and Janus were friends-

Okay, even Virgil could tell he was being ridiculous at that moment. All he had to do to figure out if Remus was mad or not was open the door. Then either everything would be fine, and Virgil could try to forget about his shit day, or Remus would tell him that he was upset.

Which would also be fine. Probably. Hopefully.

“Fuck it,” he muttered at last. He swung the door open, because that way he had to go inside, otherwise Remus might see and know that he was lurking in the corridor like a weirdo.

He managed to take one step over the threshold before freezing.

The room was dark – the lights were turned off, and the curtains were drawn – but Remus had strung up fairy lights, which let out a gentle red glow. As for the rest of the room-

“Are those the Halloween decorations?”

“Fuck,” Remus said, from where he was knelt in front of the TV. “I was meant to hear you coming.”

Fake cobwebs had been hung on the walls, and a cluster of fake pumpkins surrounded the TV. Sat on the sofa was the skeleton Remus had stolen when he’d worked at a haunted house. Fake animal skeletons were dotted around the place – an anatomically incorrect spider on the TV stand; a rat with ear bones on the coffee table; a snake on the arm of the sofa.

Remus quickly got up and hurried to Virgil. “Okay, so, you were meant to be blindfolded at this point.”

“Hard pass,” Virgil muttered,

“And I would be holding your hand, like this-“ Remus reached out and took it. Just the press of contact made Virgil feel better, like some of the day was sliding away from him. He shifted closer to Remus – probably more than needed, but the smell of Remus’ cologne let him know that nothing could touch him here.

“And then I’d take the blindfold off, and you’d say-“

“Is that the Halloween decorations?” Virgil repeated.

Remus grinned, andVirgil’s heart squeezed at the sight. “Okay, so, I want you to have the best day ever, and I figured, what day could possibly be better than Halloween?”

Virgil laughed, because that was so incredibly Remus.

“I even got candy!” Remus added. “Or, well, Janus did. He says hi, by the way.”

“I know, I saw him. How did you even have time to do all this?”

“Eh, I’m fast when I want to be,” Remus said with a wave of his hand.  “But, hey, you haven’t even seen the best part!”

Remus dragged Virgil into the room and to the sofa. Virgil followed, because there was no good trying to stop Remus when he was like this – if you tried, you’d just drive yourself crazy. Virgil had long since learned to just grab hold of Remus’ momentum, and wait to see whether he’d end up in a nerf gun war or trying to make the Best Birthday Cake Ever ™.

(Fortunately, Patton hadn’t minded the mess that one had resulted in.)

“Let me guess,” Virgil joked. “You’ve killed every annoying customer from today.”

“Oh, shit,” Remus said. “I didn’t even think of that. We could release them all into a forest and hunt them for sport.”

“Let’s table that idea for later,” Virgil suggested.

Remus pouted. “Fine.” He brightened again, “But look what I planned for tonight!”

Virgil looked to the TV, which already had films queued up to watch.

“Velocipastor,” Virgil read aloud. “Cat People; Attack of the Killer Tomatoes. These are all terrible.”

“I know, right? We can make fun of them together.”

“You mean I can make fun of them,” Virgil corrected. “You will spend the whole time trying to figure out how to recreate the practical effects.”

“Hey, that’s my biggest hobby. Just like how insulting things is yours.”

“We make such a good couple,” Virgil deadpanned, before freeing his hand from Remus’ grip so he could stick them both in his pockets. What he was about to say next was sappy, and Virgil didn’t do sappy. “Seriously, though, thanks. For all of this. You didn’t have to.”

Remus looked confused. “What do you mean?” he asked, as if Virgil had just told him he didn’t have to breathe. Like the thought of not going out of his way to cheer Virgil up hadn’t occurred to him, never mind that Virgil was always having bad days that put him on edge and made him unpleasant to be around.

“I mean, it was just a crappy day,” Virgil said. “Not the end of the world.”

Even if, sure, there had been times when it had felt like the end of the world.

“But I don’t want you to have crappy days,” Remus said petulantly.

“Pretty sure it doesn’t work like that. That’s just- kinda the way I am.”

“I know,” Remus said. “And I love the way you are, except for how you sometimes think you’re not a good person, because I kind of want to fight the parts of you that say. But I also want to give them a hug and tell them that everything will be okay, which is kind of terrifying, actually, because wow, I am not an ‘everything will be okay’ kind of person. More of a let’s brainstorm how to make things worse kind of person.” Remus blinked, apparently realising his train of thought had gotten so far off the rails it had destroyed a small town, and shrugged. “Anyway, I want to make your bad days better, but I’m not as good at this kind of thing as you are, so-“

“Wait,” Virgil interrupted. “What do you mean not as good at this as me? I’m rubbish at – pretty much everything involving emotions, basically.”

Along with everything else, some part of him whispered, but he ignored it. The part was quieter than it had been all day, anyway.

“But you’re not!” Remus protested. “I know you’re not, because when everything goes wrong and my thoughts are too loud, you’re always there. And you make things better, just by being there. So that’s why I’m doing this. To make things better, because you deserve better.”

“Oh,” Virgil said, unsure what to say. It was terrifying, at times, the depth of Remus’ love. Like standing at the edge of the Grand Turk drop-off and watching the ocean fall away beneath you.

“Yeah,” Remus finished, smiling sheepishly. “So, uh, I panicked and decided to recreate Halloween in the middle of December. Surprise.”

And then Virgil couldn’t stop himself from laughing, because only Remus would even think to do something like that. And only Remus would manage to pull it off so well.

“So, uh, are we done with the emotional thing now?” Remus asked. “Because we’d better get started if we want to finish these movies by tomorrow.”

“Fuck yeah, emotional time is over,” Virgil said, wiping at his eyes. “But, uh,” he hesitated, something squeezing his chest and whispered he won’t want to. He’ll think you’re pathetic. Virgil pushed it down. “Can we cuddle, first? Just for a little while?”

“Of course,” Remus said. He held out his arms, and Virgil melted into them.

Remus was warm, because he was always warm, and he smelled like the too-strong cologne he always wore, the only that Remus had once joked was Pickled Poo-Logs flavour. One of his hands reached up to run his fingers through Virgil’s hair.

“I got ya, Fright Night,” he murmured. “I love you.”

Virgil’s heat skipped at that, the way it always did, because some part was always convinced that this was it, this was the point where Remus would decide to just stop loving him. And every time, Remus proved that part wrong, without even realising what he was doing.

“I love you too,” Virgil mumbled, and then the waterworks opened, and he couldn’t stop crying.

“Ah, shit,” Remus said. “Did I do something? Fuck, I’m sorry, please don’t cry.”

“You gave me Halloween,” Virgil said, smacking him lightly. “Don’t you dare act like you could have done something wrong. That’s – fuck, that’s probably the best thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“Okay, we’re going to have to have a conversation about the height of that bar later,” Remus said, and Virgil snorted and buried his face into Remus’ chest. “For now, uh, let it all out, I guess? Better out than in, I always say, though I normally say that about something else.”

“Thanks,” Virgil muttered, but the tears were already starting to ease off. He stayed where he was, nestled against Remus, able to feel the rhythmic rise and fall of Remus’ breathing.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides gift exchange 2020 #dukexiety #virgil sanders #tss virgil #remus sanders #tss remus #my fic

[toshis-puppycat]

Gift Exchange

A/N: I actually already shared this for a gift exchange, so this is dedicated to @olsenholic, I'm really glad that you liked it when I was able to share it!! Happy Holidays everyone!

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple gift exchange, but well nothing goes to plan when you’re crushing on your boss and finding out he feels the same.

Pairing: Hawks x Reader

Word Count: 2,043

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

It hasn’t been very long since you’d started here. Everyone seemed to be nice, you liked it here. It was weird though. Sometimes you’d never see your boss. In fact you thought the first time you saw him was when that U.A student came by as his intern, then again for work studies. You knew he taught him that he could fly with his quirk. You could sense it actually. So it was weird when by the time December rolled around he just announced that you all would be participating in a gift exchange. “It’s supposed to promote team unity.” You remembered him saying. ‘But just why… Why did he also have to participate?’ It wasn’t weird but you did just start and oh god how on earth were you supposed to know what he even liked? Since starting at Hawks Agency you had seen him a total of 5 times, and that was when he was with the U.A. student. Tsukuyomi was his hero name if you remembered correctly. Other than that it had been a long time since you’d seen him at all since you started. Even the work studies had passed. Whatever you knew was essentially what your coworkers would complain tell you in passing. “He sometimes skips out on the paperwork” or “He works too fast for anyone to keep up with him” or even “He likes food, there’s never a moment I don’t see him spoiling himself with something to eat.” and that’s just embarrassing. Only knowing his work ethic and that he likes food to an abnormal degree (according to your coworkers at least). Well the other thing you knew would be that Hawks ‘Hes really handsome.’ That was your first thought when you saw him for the first time. Before you even started working you knew he was handsome. And now you had to get a gift for him (and preferably get him while he was alone or something because you just didn’t want anyone to know). He was hard to get alone though, so you had to be smart when you figured out what to get him.

“Did you hear Hawks say hes a huge fan of Endeavor?” You heard a coworker ask someone. Your ears perked up. “Turns out our boss loved him as a kid!” Loved him? Endeavor himself was… well in your opinion a giant asshole. You’d actually applied to work at his agency at first, thinking you would fit in well but… your application was rejected on the basis of someone else had filled the minor position. But you felt it was slightly because of your quirk being weak in comparison. Even though you’d mainly be helping with the paperwork not the hero work itself. But you were kind of grateful, it gave you a slight change of pace you supposed. Hawks was overall fast, he didn’t like doing his paperwork sometimes (or he procrastinated), when he was present he would attempt to spoil his employees with food and ensure good benefits, he made sure his employees were comfortable in their working environment. Hawks might have everything related to Endeavor already but it wouldn’t hurt to try and get him something related to the flame hero. 

You actually did find something related to Endeavor eventually. It took ages to actually find. It was a recording of his own time at U.A. During his first sports festival. U.A. thankfully wasn’t secretive when in reference to the Sports Festival. You remembered watching the recent one on the news. One kid really freaked you out actually, because he fought Endeavors kid and absolutely annihilated his own arm when fighting. But actually finding one from Endeavors time? One that actually showed him? An absolute miracle that you were able to save it. One you were going to take full advantage of. 

The day to actually exchange gifts came up pretty quick afterwards. He wasn’t there when everything began. Which internally made you want to scream. At this rate you’d have to give him his gift in person. What was even weirder was you hadn’t even gotten your gift either. God you kinda hoped that he didn’t get your name too. That’d be a little awkward. Would it? Getting a gift from your boss for a random gift exchange. Almost like you were meant to be. You shook the thought away. Meant to be? That's a fairytale. 

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

When he brought up the idea for a gift exchange, he didn’t think too much of it at first. Then he actually got a name. How he forgot that he threw his own name in there amazed him. A name of an employee who worked at his agency, not even one who was provided by the Hero Commission. Just hired on what kind of felt like a whim. You were efficient, a hard worker. He knew you were one because you applied for Endeavors agency before his, and well if you knew you could handle Endeavors temperament you could definitely handle working at his agency. You were… how could he even put it? You were really good at your job, you didn’t complain, you listened and it seems like you really enjoy working at his agency. Which was a plus for him, because despite him wanting to avoid paperwork and not spending much time at his agency itself, he actually really enjoyed everything having to do with it. He liked being able to make sure his employees have a good pay, good benefits and well good everything. He didn’t want anyone to ever deal with what he did in any point of their lives. Finding out what you liked was really simple actually. He snooped listened, and paid attention whenever you were even slightly mentioned. He also maybe sort of looked up anything he could about you. It wasn’t very hard to do so, but it was hard making sure no one knew it was him doing anything related to you. He was the Number 2 Hero, and while it came with perks, it also came with certain dangers as well. He didn’t want his employee targeted for anything (although he highly doubted that the League would actually go after you for anything, he was good at his job thank you very much and there was no way they could actually find one of his cute efficient employees). You were kind, efficient, beautiful, knowledgeable and he just had to get your name for the gift exchange. He didn’t know who got whos name but he would’ve hoped it would’ve been obvious who got him. Unfortunately, for him all of them were stone faced when they picked up the names. Even you. But it would be sort of… romantic if you also got his name wouldn’t it? Like you two were meant to be? No no. He didn’t. He couldn’t be interested in one of his employees. But damn did you fall into his category of attractive. He was able to find a suitable gift just before he had to give it to you at a really good time for him. Now all he had to do was make sure that you’d be alone. 

Turns out, its really difficult to get someone alone. His other employees crowded him, and you seemed to just stay away from him. But no one gave him a gift yet either. God he sort of hoped it was you. His palms felt a little sweaty, his heartbeat was a tad out of control. Was it like that because he liked you? Or was it because he wanted to leave? He took the safe route of leaving just in case, sneaking away from everyone. He didn’t even notice that you were following him.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Hawks was leaving! This was your chance! You quickly made your escape to catch up to him and give him the gift. No one stopped you, thank god no one noticed you at all. It didn’t even look like he noticed you! Perfect! Turns out you have a huge crush on your boss, no biggy you’d just bury all of your feelings and ignore everything perfectly fine and dandy. How did you even find out? Well turns out already listening in for information about your boss and getting excited about giving him a very personal slightly personal gift, your heart beating out of your chest and having sweaty palms all equated to you feeling excited to see him know it’s you, you’re his secret santa. You weren’t even paying attention when he stopped walking, then suddenly you were slammed against a wall, and Hawks was in your personal space. He looked angry for a split second but then he backed away almost embarrassed. 

“Haha, sorry kid. Felt that I was being followed and well, it never hurts to be cautious.” He said and you let out an awkward laugh. 

“Its alright, sir.” You said, biting your lip. You didn’t notice how his gaze flickered there for a split second. “Ah, well I understand you left to get some alone time but uh, well…” you trailed off, reaching into your coat pocket and pulling out the CD. “Merry Christmas, sir. I was uh, well your Secret Santa. He looked at you shocked and gave a little laugh. 

“So you were my Secret Santa?” He smiled at you. As you gave a nod to answer his question. “That's really somethin.” He said, reaching out to grab the gift. 

“Well, uh. That was all, sir! I hope you enjoy it!” You said awkwardly, moving to go away from him but he stopped you by grabbing your arm. 

“Ya’know, it’s real funny you had me, kid.” He said, and you gave him an anxious look. You weren’t scared but you didn’t want to intrude on him. He sighed and gave a small smile. “I actually had you too.” Everything sort of just stopped. Your boss had your name for this? What kind of Romcom nonsense? You looked up to avoid his gaze, you did not want your boss to notice how flustered you got from him grabbing your arm, your eyes slightly widened. Was that a… and it was. A mistletoe was just there above your heads and you felt like your face was giving away everything in that moment. Hawks looked a bit shocked at your expression, then immediately looked up and also… saw… the mistletoe. Fuck. His arm moved, wrapping around your waist, his hand let go of your arm, and he just looked at you. “I stayed awake owl night thinking about you.” It took a minute to even register what he said, and you just started laughing. 

“Owl night?” You giggled. “Bird puns, sir?” 

“You looked a little panicked, kid. Give me a break here.” He said, grinning at your relaxed expression. “So. Secret Santa.” He said, the playful gleam still in his eyes. “Can we honor a tradition?” 

You give him a nod and it was all he needed before giving you a tentative kiss, like he was unsure of himself. It wasn’t even that long before he pulled away, his cheeks slightly dark at the dazed expression you were giving him. You pulled him in for another kiss. This holiday was much better than any other one you’d ever experienced. You even got to experience a kiss under a mistletoe. 

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Hawks wasn’t your boss for long after that kiss gift exchange. He wanted to actually see you. Like romantically. And well, you really really wanted to give it a shot too. And you didn’t regret a single thing after that. Four years down the line already, you were in a relationship you never thought would ever happen, you knew his name. Kegio. Your heart still fluttered whenever you two would spend time together, and tonight you knew he had something planned. (Of course it didn’t register to you until much later that it was the anniversary of your first kiss with him, and he was a hopeless romantic) You just didn’t know it would involve you being able to take his last name. So when he asked, of course you said yes.

#bnha hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #Fluff #bnha #bnha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #hawks #bnha x reader

[midnghtcities]

cherry flavoured / chapter 3

Christmas. A time of celebration, joy, and cookie-induced food comas. Hazel Shaw needs this holiday season to be the best one yet, but a neighbour by the name of Harry Styles could completely destroy that ideal.

An enemies-to-lovers Christmas mini-fic about old mistakes, new prospects, and those cherry flavoured conversations you wish could be forgotten. 

Written for the 1DFF discord server fic challenge.

read on wattpad / story page

(A/N: yes i know christmas was almost a month ago but i am terrible at keeping schedules!! anywho, just a short epilogue after this part!)

! TW: brief description of a seizure !

Friday, 25 December

Alcohol the night before Christmas is never a good idea if you want to have a good night sleep. Pair that with a boy who you once upon a time thought you could be in love with admitting to something relatively shocking, then you’re definitely not in for a good night sleep.

My alarm chirped happily at seven and I unhappily dragged myself out of my cocoon of comfort. I don’t think I had roused myself this early on Christmas morning since I was 10 years old, but I wanted today to be perfect. Normally, mum would take on the duties of preparing Christmas Day but I had insisted on her taking as much rest as she needed. It was my turn to take charge. I promptly forced all lingering thoughts about last night to the back of my mind and began to get on with the day. 

Once downstairs I busied myself with arranging our presents under the tree, switching on the Christmas lights, and setting the table for our traditional Christmas breakfast. I grabbed the supplies I had stashed in the cupboard earlier and got to work on our breakfast gingerbread house. 

I knew to many it would seem pretty silly that we indulge on something so sweet for breakfast, but it was our tradition. As a kid, I was always half excited to see the presents under the tree and half excited to see what gingerbread monstrosity my mum had created. Some notable mentions include the 30cm lighthouse she had somehow erected in 2005 and her infamous attempt at the Buckingham Palace in 2011. This year, we would have to do with a simple house though. Time constraints meant I had to use a simple store-bought kit.

It was just past half nine when I put the finishing touches on the gingerbread house and I finally called up to mum, telling her she was permitted to come downstairs to begin our festivities.

“Happy Christmas, mum!”

“Happy Christmas, Hazel.”

I immediately wrapped mum up in a hug once she had fully descended the stairs. Both of us held on a little longer than we normally would.

“This looks fantastic!” Mum beamed.

It was nothing compared to what mum used to do back in the day but I appreciated the sentiment. I pulled mum over to the sofa and we began exchanging gifts, both of us laughing at how we seemingly got all the gifts so perfect for once. After the wrapping paper had been stashed away, I proudly brought out my gingerbread creation. The roof was barely hanging on and I had to make extra icing in order to hold the walls up, but all in all it was a decent effort. Mum had the honours of smashing the whole thing apart and we both dug in, a full pot of tea accompanying our sweet escapade.

It was almost midday. We had packed the remains of the gingerbread house away before we made ourselves sick and we had both donned our garish Christmas jumpers. I had set mum up with some corny Christmas movie that was on Netflix whilst I busied myself with preparing our lunch. A typical roast dinner, but for lunch obviously.

“Are you feeling hungry yet? I think the food is pretty much ready,” I peered into the oven, the golden skin of the chicken confirming my suspicions. I gave the mashed potatoes on the stove another stir, making sure it wasn’t getting gluggy at the bottom.

“Mum?” I called over my shoulder again.

I turned around, finding her lack of response strange.

She was standing rigidly near the dining table, her right hand clasped over her mouth. Her gaze was fixed on the wall.

“Mum…” I felt my heart leap into my throat. I had seen this before. I dropped the wooden spoon I was holding and immediately walked over to her.

In the six steps it took for me to get to her, it all happened. The glass I didn’t even realise she was holding fell from her left hand and shattered. She crumpled and fell, knees collapsing beneath her. That guttural groan I had hoped I would never have to hear again. Eyes rolling. Jaw locked. Shaking. Jerking. She was having a seizure.

I dropped to my knees beside her, rolling her onto her side as best as I could. I checked her airway like the paramedic had shown me last time. It was clear thankfully. With surprisingly steady hands, I grabbed my phone from my back pocket and dialled 999.

It didn’t even feel like it was me speaking. A voice so even and calm couldn’t possibly be coming out of my mouth right now. I relayed the personal details with ease, told the lady on the other end of mum’s condition without a stutter over the big medical words. Who am I?

“Paramedics are on their way to you now. You’re doing a great job, love.”

I blinked. Mum had stopped shaking, but her eyes were still closed.

“They should be right outside love,” the call takers voice interjected. 

I thanked her and hung up, mystified at how they had arrived in seconds. When I looked down at my phone screen I realised that the phone call had been going for more than five minutes. I blinked again. Blue flashing lights slicing through the living room blinds. A firm knock at the door.

I was walking underwater. My legs were not moving fast enough. I held my arms out as though I was about to lose balance. I made it to the door, let the paramedics in. 

Now I was sitting on the sofa. Look at me. Take a breath. Tell me what happened. How long was she out? You did a great job. She’s going to be okay. 

“Hazel?!”

I was pulled out of the water. My senses ignited, the scene before me truly unfolding. Two paramedics, one assessing mum and one crouched before me. I could hear a steady beeping, mum’s heart on the monitor I’m assuming. And Harry. He was standing in the doorway, eyes wide with horror. Anne and Gemma were behind him, with similar looks of panic. They were all wearing those crappy paper Christmas hats.

And it was as if that’s what tipped the scale. It was Christmas day. My mum just had a seizure. I burst into tears.

I launched myself off the sofa and towards Harry. He had already begun moving towards me so he caught me immediately. I sobbed horribly into his jumper, my chest heaving and throat almost instantly becoming raw as I let it out. I cried for Christmas Day being ruined. I cried for the pain my mum has had to endure. I cried for the fact that mum would most likely not be here this time next year. I cried for my mum being diagnosed with glioblastoma at the age of 52.

“You’re okay…” Harry continually whispered into the top of my head, his hand rubbing circles on my back. I clinged to him like he was the only thing to keep me afloat right now.

I wasn’t sure how long we had been embracing, but I eventually calmed down. I carefully pulled my head back from his chest, bringing my arms away from his waist to rub my eyes clear. He kept his arms locked around me though, like he wasn’t sure if I was ready to be let go. I was glad he kept them there.

“You’re bleeding,” he said worriedly.

“Oh…” I looked at my hands and realised he was right. I must’ve leant on the glass when I was beside mum. As soon as I realised the cuts were there, I felt the throb of pain. “I think… I might’ve gotten blood on your jumper…”

“Wha--” Harry spluttered, like he was lost for words. “I-- I do not give a fuck about that! Come here.” He pulled me back over to the sofa.

I took the moment to glance around the room. Anne was talking to the paramedic. Gemma was distributing glasses of water. And then there was Mum, sitting up on one of the dining table chairs. She looked so tired, but despite that, when I met her gaze she sent me a smile. It was the same look she gives me after every medical episode she’s had in the last year. It was her way of saying all was fine, no need to worry. What she didn’t realise was that all I had been for the past year was a pit of worry.

“Is it alright if you check to make sure there’s no glass in the cuts?” Harry’s gruff voice pulled me back in the moment.

“Of course,” the paramedic bobbed down in front of me and asked to see my hands.

Harry immediately took up the space beside me, his arm snaking around my waist once more. I leant into him almost automatically. I didn’t care that it felt so right to be like this with him. I didn’t care that he pressed his lips to the top of my head when the disinfectant the paramedic applied caused me to wince. I especially didn’t care that he kept me entwined with him even after the paramedic had finished tending to the cuts.

“We’re gonna take her upstairs,” the other paramedic addressed me a few minutes later. “Her vitals are good and we’ve given some pain relief for the headache she's sporting. Seeing as this isn’t her first seizure we don’t need to bring her in. But if anything changes in her condition, ring and we’ll come straight back.”

I nodded mutely and despite my protesting heart, I pulled myself up and out of Harry’s arms.

“It’s alright Hazel,” Anne jumped in quickly, “you stay there and I’ll show them where your mum’s room is.”

“No, it’s okay,” I finally found my voice. “You’ve done so much already, I don’t need to spoil your Christmas anymore.”

“Hazel… Don’t say that…”

“Please, go back to your Christmas lunch. I promise we’re okay now.”

I could tell Anne wanted to fight me on this but Gemma grabbed her mum’s hand and began leading her towards the door.

“Thank you…” I said quietly as they passed. Anne pulled me into a hug, whispering that I could call if I needed anything.

Harry stood from the sofa, his expression somewhat unreadable. As suddenly as I had felt at ease with him, it all slipped away and I felt the frostiness of our current relationship seep back in. I had broken down in front of and clutched onto the man that I had promised myself five years early that I would have nothing to do with anymore. How do you move past that?

“I… Uh-- Thank you, as well,” I said lamely.

It looked like he was about to say something in response, but instead he swallowed thickly. Clearly, the moments we had shared earlier have officially passed.

I motioned to the paramedics to assist bringing mum upstairs. I knew the Styles’ would be able to show themselves out. I tried not to wince each time mum took a laborious breath as she came up the stairs. However, I felt a strange lightness when they finally settled her in the bed.

I thanked the paramedics profusely, which they accepted graciously. They promised to close the front door behind them, urging me to stay with mum for a bit to make sure she’s comfortable.

“I’m so sorry Hazel,” mum spoke as soon as they left.

I went and sat beside her. “Please don’t apologise, you can’t control these things.”

“Yes, but I know how much effort you had put into today. You deserve to have a special day.” A soft but sad smile graced her features. I knew she was skirting around the big issue that we always tried to avoid. The impending end that her diagnosis was going to bring. 

“We have lots of time for a special day,” I said quietly, bringing her hands into my own. “And even if we don’t… I am so thankful for the countless ones we’ve already had. Never feel guilty that you’re taking something away from me.”

Mum’s eyes turned glassy with emotion. She tugged on my hands, signalling that she needed a hug. 

“Get some rest,” I spoke after pulling away a few seconds later. “Maybe we can still have some Christmas dinner if I can salvage the chicken.”

She laughed but agreed. I wanted to stay and watch her fall asleep - to be sure - but she assured me that she felt fine and told me to go. I begrudgingly agreed.

 Carefully, I closed her bedroom door and walked gingerly back downstairs. I knew I needed to clean up the mess. And try and rustle up something edible for us.

“Is she alright?”

“Jesus Christ!” My heart almost leapt out of my chest at the unexpected sounding of a voice. Harry was standing in my kitchen, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed in what looked like concern. “You scared the shit out of me. What are you still doing here?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay… And your mum. Is she?”

I was shocked that Harry hadn’t left. After what had happened earlier I was sure he would’ve wanted to put as much distance between us as possible. “Uh… yeah. She seems to be,” I managed to get out, “she’s just resting at the moment.”

“Good, good,” he said softly. I kept forgetting what it was like to have him talk to me like this, like we were before.

“You cleaned up,” I noticed that the shards of glass had been surreptitiously swept away and the floor wiped clean of any evidence of what had happened. I suddenly felt my throat tighten and that telltale pinch behind my eyes. Harry had literally held me together a mere hour earlier and yet this small act of kindness was sending me over the edge again. I didn’t want Harry to see me like this once more. I quickly walked over to the cupboard to grab a glass and filled it with water from the sink.

“Least I could do,” he replied, seemingly not noticing my change in demeanor. “Unfortunately, I couldn’t save your chicken. Mum made you both a plate though from our leftovers, I put them in the fridge. I can heat it up for you if you’re hungry now…”

He was being so nice. It felt so jarring. One day he was all eye rolls and words filled with venom, and the next he was offering to get me food. With the absence of my earlier heightened emotions, his sudden concern felt like he was trying to portray some act.

“I’m alright for now,” I finally spoke after a few beats of silence. I turned from the sink to face him again. His eyes held that look of pity - poor girl with a sick mum. I hated it.

“Okay then… Do you wanna just watch a movie then? Get your mind off things?”

It was like a switch had flipped in my mind. I had enough of fake niceties and acts of kindness formed out of pity. I slammed my glass down onto the counter, water sloshing out the side. “God, why are you here?” I said sourly.

“What? I told you, to make--”

“To make sure I’m okay, yeah, I heard that. But why do you even care?”

I watched Harry’s gaze harden. “You… Seriously? What is your problem? I’m trying to do the right thing.”

I clenched my hands into fists, my nails pressing deep into the palms of my hands. I was desperately trying to prevent myself from exploding at him. “Why? Cause you feel sorry for me?”

“No, of course not!”

“Then why do the right thing now? After all these years?”

Harry shook his head in disbelief and began to pace across the floor. He ran his hands through his hair. “You know, a thank you would be nice,” he spat after a few moments.

“A thank you? A thank you?” I could feel my face heating up, not in embarrassment but in anger. It was getting harder and harder to keep it together. “You should be thanking me!”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“For helping you to get back with your girlfriend.”

Harry stopped in his tracks and faced me, eyes wide in bewilderment. “Hazel, I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” His frustration was palpable as he threw his hands up in the air. “I thought this was about your mum!? Or me apparently helping you too much today.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut. I forced myself to take three deep breaths. I reopened my eyes to see Harry staring at me expectantly. 

“It’s about the fact that we have barely spoken to each other for the past five years and now you expect us to sit on the sofa and watch some bloody movie?” I said in a surprisingly even tone.

“It’s not my fault we haven’t spoken in the last five years,” he replied icily.

“Excuse me…”

“I’m sure you remember the last summer before uni?” Harry crossed his arms across his chest, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

“How could I forget,” I said darkly. I could feel that my hands were shaking ever so slightly.

“So you remember that--” he swallowed thickly, “--that last night.”

I nodded mutely. This was the first time we had ever spoken of that night.

“So then you definitely must remember how you moved across the country the next day without saying goodbye to me and have ignored me since.”

My mouth fell open. That is not what happened. My body flushed as I tried to process what Harry was telling me. Memories of that night flooded back, it had been so long since I had allowed myself to think of them. 

I remember the heat - we had been suffering through a heat wave all week. Someone from our form was having a final hurrah before we all went off to uni. Harry and I went together - as we always did - and we drank. A lot. Those god damn cherry vodka sours. As we stumbled home, he kissed me. I’ll never forget the look that clouded his eyes when he pulled away. And next thing I knew we were in his bed, all fervent mouths and quiet moans.

“You slept with me,” I spoke as I finally pulled out of my reverie, “and the very next day run right back into the arms of Lucy, who you told me you had ended things with…”

I watched as Harry’s eyebrows knitted together in what looked like confusion.

“All I was to you was a quick fuck to help sort out your feelings,” I said quietly. It had taken me a long time to accept the truth of Harry’s actions but admitting it outloud was almost harder. A tear suddenly slipped down my face. I hadn’t even felt myself well up.

“So yes,” I continued on when I realised Harry was just going to keep staring at me with a look of dumbfoundedness, “I did leave for London without saying goodbye. But I think I had a pretty good reason to.”

Harry continued to stare at me, his eyes wide. I waited a further few seconds, expectant of a response, but nothing came.

“I think you should leave,” I finally spoke.

He didn’t move.

“Fine then,” I stormed past him not even taking care when my shoulder careened into his own. Just as I was about to climb the stairs, I felt his hand around my wrist. He pulled me to a stop.

“I wasn’t talking to Lucy to get back with her. I was telling her… that she was right.” His voice was raspier than earlier.

I begrudgingly turned to face him, “Right about what?”

“She was the one who actually ended things…”

“What? You told me you did.”

“I know, I didn’t want you to know the real reason why she broke up with me.”

I raised an eyebrow, “And what was the real reason?”

Harry drew in a shuddering breath, “She thought… Well she insisted on the fact that I was actually in love with you.”

It felt like someone had sucked all the air out of lungs. My vision swam for a moment. I placed my left hand on the wall as though my legs were going to give way. “And… You went to tell her that she was right…”

“I thought maybe you felt the same, especially after… But with you leaving so suddenly, it made it pretty clear that I had come to the wrong conclusion.” Harry’s gaze shifted away from my own, he clearly was feeling uncomfortable.

His admission made me view the last five years in a new light. His actions did match those of a scorned lover. In fact, it matched my own.

“You weren’t wrong,” I breathed out. I reached forward, my hand landing on his chest. Even through his jumper I could feel his heart beating erratically. 

He met my gaze once more and all I could see was that look - the one he held all those years ago. 

Without another second of hesitation, our lips crashed together. My hands immediately found their way into Harry’s hair, fingers curling around the tendrils as though to keep us locked in this place for eternity. I felt Harry’s own hands dig into my waist, pulling me flush against his chest. Heart to heart as we should be - something I never thought would happen again. Something that I hadn’t realised I had been longing for all this time.

Against my better judgment, I pulled away. Harry gave a small noise of protest which I smiled at. “Wait…” I said whilst trying to catch my breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions so easily when I saw you--”

“Don’t you dare apologise. We were both arses. I should’ve reached out, found out what was wrong.”

I captured his lips with my own again. “Agree to both be sorry then?” I spoke after pulling away.

He laughed softly, “Alright then.”

I rested my head against his chest, glad to have Harry’s arms around me. “I can’t believe we wasted five years…”

“Might’ve been for the better, you would not have enjoyed my long-haired phase in my second last year of uni.”

I looked up at him, both of our eyes crinkled with laughter. “And I suppose you wouldn’t have enjoyed me in my last year where I was determined to hit up every bar in London.”

I watched his expression drop ever so slightly. “Right, London.” He loosened his grip on me, pulling away. “I suppose you’re heading back there tomorrow?”

The reality of real life crashed down like a bucket of water had been tipped over me. How could I forget that Harry and I have crafted full lives in completely different cities.

“It’ll be hard to say goodbye to you knowing how we both feel now,” he said quietly.

I chewed my lip, “You know… I could extend my leave. Maybe until after New Years. I’m sure I could get some special considerations.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, “Are you sure?”

“We’re not fucking this up a second time.”

He grinned and wrapped me in his embrace once more, his lips making quick work to find my own.

“You know,” I pulled away.

His groan cut me off, “Stop bloody doing that.”

I shushed him with a laugh, “I was just going to say that in case my leave doesn’t get approved that we should make the most of the time we have left.” I looked fixedly over to the sofa.

“Fuck, I love the way you think.”

Without a second thought we tumbled over to the sofa, our legs becoming entangled, clothes discarded, and hands roaming - eager to find what had changed in the last five years. And as Harry peppered kisses down my torso and brought forth feelings so intense I hadn’t thought possible - I knew I wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. Even if that meant quitting my job or moving halfway across a country. 

Harry and I. This was it.

#1dff #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #one direction #one direction fanfiction #fanfiction #ao3feed #wattpad

[rimofwell]

feels weird to be posting on here after my frequent absences. at times, i think there’s really nothing to say but in reality i think there’s actually so much to say that i don’t know where to even begin. 

i’m nearing the end of my 2nd year and i truly cannot believe how quickly the time has gone. i’m taking my candidacy/qualifying exam in less than three weeks and i am honestly paralyzed by fear? part of me is looking forward to it being over with and officially being a ~phd candidate~ lol but another part of me is like, “lol ur gonna fail” which has produced this nice mixture of dread / anticipation. i really just want it to be over with, though i have appreciated the dedicated time to step away from the bench for a bit and really dive into the literature on my project and the state of my field altogether. there’s so much information out there and it’s overwhelming and exciting and trying to synthesize it together into a coherent story is actually pretty fulfilling. i have veered a bit from genetics and am working on a project that touches a bit on structural bio/biochemistry which is neat and not something i anticipated/planned etc. i have been missing writing/reading lately - like reading non-science papers. it reminds me of college and how my dual interests in literature + science kept me grounded and also never bored. anytime i got tired of one subject i’d kind of dive into the other. i feel like there’s this whole other part of my brain that i don’t really get to access on a regular basis and i miss it. i’m trying to think about what fulfills me and i think it really is.... learning? like science is amazing and fascinating and i do love it but there are also so many other things i love that i don’t have time to delve into as much as i want to. i think maybe i was happiest during my gap year when i got to learn as much as i wanted about everything. i do want to finish my phd in molecular biology and will, but i really just want to find something that fulfills me or figure out how to craft a personal life that is gratifying, stimulating, and fulfilling and i’m not entirely sure how to do that or what that will look like.

anyway, this has gotten quite rambley but really i just had to take a break from all the reading and writing and remind myself that i am a person too, with thoughts that don’t entirely revolve around my research project; that there are these whole other parts of me that matter too and that i want to nurture and also cherish. especially trying to remind myself of that because i have my “practice qual” on friday, which is basically me giving a defense and getting grilled for two hours by people from my lab who know a ton on the topic and it’s definitely good and will be helpful and honestly excellent preparation for the actual exam but i’m still very anxious for it and am just not looking forward to feeling like an idiot for two hours. 

in good news, i received a fellowship that i impulsively applied for back in december so i have my own funding which is nice and helps a touch with my anxiety about the whole thing. this week and last week have been just packed with honestly so many things. so many shitty personal things and so many expectations and lab/research related things i’ve had to do and i’m just like fuck? this is actually so much, i have to do so much. and the thought sometimes overwhelms me but thankfully i think in a way that knowledge helps a bit. like just me looking at all that’s on my plate and being like, “okay yes this is actually a lot but you can do hard things and you’ve done hard things, seemingly impossible things! who knows how! lmao but somehow you can always pull through” and that’s always been the case whether it be applying for phd programs a week before the deadline and getting into all but one program or throwing together what i think is a shitty fellowship application and then somehow getting the award. or writing my proposal in like 2 days. i think i’m maybe too hard on myself but the way my brain works is pretty frustrating to me and i’m thankful it works out but so wish i could be more normal about it all? like..... working on something consistently, a little bit everyday versus doing it all in a few very intense hours. my roommates who are also in the 2nd year of their phd in the same program and i talk about this all the time and i’m always like, “lol another day of being useless and not studying like i said i was going to!” and the other day one of them was like, “yes but you’ll be fine. what takes me several days to do takes you a few hours” and i thought about it and was like yes that’s kind of true but the time leading up to those few hours is kind of grueling and really it’s just me hoping that somehow my two brain cells come together to produce something coherent

god this has gotten so off track i don’t even remember what i started making this post about and instead of scrolling back to the top and trying to connect it, i think i’m just going to let it be and say that everything is a lot but i’m also working on being more intentional about my choices and i think that intentionality has come from a bunch of realizations i’ve had lately. realizations that i don’t have to live my life in any particular way. that “success” has kind of lost its appeal for me. it’s lost its draw? i don’t know quite the word for it. i think i’ve realized that i can “do this” if ~this~ is what i want, the being in academia maybe being a professor and having this very kind of strict and clear cut life but i don’t know if i want to do that. i want to find what fulfills me and i think i have a right and almost owe it to myself to figure it out. to see if i can find some sense of peace and calm actually inside of myself versus tethering myself to reality by my responsibilities and commitments. 

also once again forgot where i was going with that but i hope everyone is doing alright. i do try to check in on people even though i’m not posting but i do miss you all and honestly at this point don’t know if anyone is still reading but if so thank you. 

this quote has been coming to mind lately - it’s been true throughout my life and continues to be

“I used to think that the ability to turn back time would be the greatest possible gift, so that I could undo all the things I wish I hadn’t done. But grace is an even better gift, because it allows me to do more than just erase; it allows me to become more than I was when I did those things. It’s forgiveness without forgetting, which is much sweeter than amnesia.”

#honestly very long and not very logical update on where i am at #truly like just typing out all of my thoughts as they come lmao #personal #update-ish???