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ellemj · 5 months

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What Am I To You?

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot: SMUT

Summary: You pissed your fuck buddy off and now he only has one question, but it takes a few orgasms to get the right answer out of you.

Warnings: profanity, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, facesitting, light choking, light breeding kink, no use of y/n, praise, spanking, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings. Thank you to @littlemiss-yeehaw for the ones listed above, she's a gem.

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: This filth came from a random 4am thought that created the dialogue in the first paragraph. I had to use it. Everyone should totally beg @littlemiss-yeehaw to post the horny lil sketch she started for this one-shot. Side note, should I start a tag list for people who want to be tagged in all fics I post? Idk, I'm still way too new to Tumblr to be running a blog like this lmfao. I need a team of advisors.

“Do you know who the fuck you’re talking to? Get on the bed, I’ll show you.” You stay where you are, standing in the doorway of his bedroom with your arms crossed over your chest in a show of defiance. “Get on the fucking bed, right now.” He repeats, pointing a finger at his bed. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s seconds away from dishing out a punishment, one that he’ll enjoy far more than you, so you shuffle forward and crawl onto the bed as he watches. Good girl.

You’ve been here before. You know what he wants from you. He wants you on your hands and knees, with no looking back over your shoulder to see what’s coming. So that’s how you settle yourself, on your hands and knees, staring down at the soft, ruffled up bedding beneath you.

“What am I to you?” He asks, his tone scarily calm and even. You take a deep breath and close your eyes. What kind of answer is he looking for? You’re just fuck buddies. You use each other to de-stress after missions. It’s never been anything more, not once in the past two months that it’s been going on has there ever been so much as a hint that it could be something more.

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly. You listen intently as the familiar sound of Bucky’s belt buckle coming undone fills the silence in the room. A chill races through your body, dancing across the surface of your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“You don’t know…” Bucky tsks. You can’t see him, but he’s standing a couple of feet away from the foot of the bed, letting his eyes rake over your nearly exposed ass as he unbuttons his shirt. The little black dress that you’re wearing barely covers anything with the position you’re in, and he’s fucking thankful for it. In fact, if you hadn’t pissed him off tonight, he probably would’ve found some way to fuck you during the mission just because of that dress. But you pissed him off. “I’ll help you figure it out.” Bucky steps forward now, his warm right hand and cool, metal left hand both gracing the skin of your right ankle as he begins taking off your heels. He drops one to the floor before moving on to the other, and then he strips his shirt off and tosses it to the side as well.

“I thought we were just—”

“You don’t want to finish that sentence.” Bucky warns, effectively cutting you off and giving you a chance to save yourself. It’s beyond clear now that this isn’t just a fuck buddies situation to him anymore. It did start out that way though. Two months ago when you two stumbled into bed together, he proposed a friends-with-benefits type of relationship so casually that you would’ve thought he’d had plenty of them in his lifetime. It worked so well, with the two of you meeting up once or twice a week at either your place or his to blow off steam with good sex. It wasn’t until you were a month in that Bucky started to realize he hated the way you’d leave within half an hour of finishing each other off. He hated that you never slept over. He hated that you still had the freedom to talk to other guys, hell, you could even go out on dates with other guys if you wanted and he wouldn’t be able to say shit about it. Because this was nothing. It was just a casual agreement between friends.

Bucky trails his fingers along your calves slowly, taking his time as he decides what he’s going to do with you. Every other time that you’ve been together, he’s let it be a mutually beneficial thing. There was never a time where only one of you pleased the other, because that would’ve defeated the purpose of the arrangement. He would’ve been perfectly content with solely pleasuring you here and there, giving you everything while taking nothing for himself, but you always reciprocated and he never stopped you. But now, he’s going to do exactly what he wants. He’s going to show you what he is to you in the best way that he knows how: by making you come undone for him, by reminding you that no one else has ever or will ever make you feel the way that he can.

As Bucky pulls his hands away from your calves, you hear the sound of his pants dropping to the floor, the sound of his dog tags shifting around his neck and tapping against his bare chest with his movements, and then the sound of a deep sigh leaving his lips. Anticipation courses through your veins and mixes with adrenaline, creating a dangerous compound that only seems to encourage the wetness seeping into your panties. You shift on the bed, wiggling your hips and wishing you could clench your thighs together for even the smallest amount of friction. Bucky, of course, notices you moving and quickly gains control of the situation.

“Impatient, huh? Do you need something?” He questions slyly, letting his hands connect with your calves once again. You’re fooled by his gentle touch, your body not at all expecting his flesh hand to suddenly smack against your ass. “Answer me.” Holy shit. He’s never been quite like this with you before.

“I need you.” You answer, hoping he’ll give you anything in return.

“You don’t even know what I am to you, yet you need me?”

“Bucky…” Your voice trails off as his hands glide further up your legs, past the crooks of your knees and along the sides of your thighs. When both of his hands reach the curve of your ass, he begins pushing the hem of your dress up around your waist. The silence is deafening.

He wasn’t planning to be so rough with you, but as soon as his eyes land on the tiny black thong that was previously hidden beneath your tiny black dress, his hands start functioning on autopilot. A low groan rumbles past his lips as he pulls your panties to the side with his vibranium hand and shoves two fingers into your cunt, without a single breath of a warning.

“BUCKY!” You cry out, arching your back and trying to pull away from him. He moves his vibranium hand to grip your left hip, holding you firmly in place while his fingers are still buried knuckle-deep within you. Giving you little time to adjust, he begins sliding them in and out, in and out, giving himself a chance to feel how wet and tight you are for him. Fuck. It’s going to test every bit of his resolve and self-discipline to get through what he plans to do to you tonight.

“That’s it, say my name.” He encourages you, pumping his fingers in and out at a steady pace. When he leans in and attaches his lips to your clit, you fist the bedding in both hands and squeeze your eyes shut. Breathy moans and curses fall from your lips as his tongue circles over the most sensitive part of your body, all while his two fingers are curling inside of you. You’ve never been one to go careening toward an orgasm with little-to-no effort, but Bucky is skilled. That familiar knot is twisting tighter and tighter in your lower stomach as he relentlessly toys with your pussy. He can tell you’re already close to your first orgasm of the night, and as much as he wants to withhold it until you admit that he means something to you, he wants to see you come undone for him even more.

“Bucky, I’m close.” Your voice is breathless, all of your energy is focused on actively denying yourself of your release. For the briefest second, you wonder why your body won’t just go ahead and cum, but then you realize that you want his permission. You want him to tell you to let go, to cum on his fingers and lips. Bucky fucks his fingers into you a little harder and deeper, reaching a spot that has your eyes rolling back in your head and your toes curling. Another loud moan from you has Bucky digging his vibranium fingers into your hip with enough force to leave bruises. He knows you’re right on the edge, and it takes him only a second to figure out why you’re not letting go. He pulls his head back for a moment but lets his fingers continue their work.

“Do you want to cum for me, baby?” He asks. There’s a teasing lilt to his voice that sends heat rushing to your cheeks. You nod your head fervently and he chuckles at your neediness. “Who gets you this wet? This desperate for release?” Fuck.

“You, Bucky.” You moan out your response as he pulls his fingers nearly all the way out and slides them back in at the slowest pace yet.

“Who else?” He demands to know, picking up the pace once again.

“No one, only you.” Your answer is honest and it earns you his mouth back on your clit. He sucks and licks at it like his life depends on your impending orgasm. He gets you right back to the edge within seconds, before breaking away from your clit momentarily just to say cum for me. Your orgasm washes over you in an instant, your pussy clenching down on his two fingers as you unintentionally grind against his mouth. He flattens his tongue against your clit and lets you take everything you need. After a few more seconds of immense pleasure, the legs and arms that have been so dutifully holding you up are threatening to collapse.

“What am I to you?” Bucky repeats his question from earlier, but still, your answer is the same.

“I don’t know.” Your voice is quieter now, weaker since the first orgasm took so much energy out of you. Bucky shakes his head, though you can’t see him from your current position. He didn’t think you’d have a better answer after just one orgasm, but he’s going to give you a chance after each one anyway.

“Lay on your back.” Bucky commands. You do as you’re told. As you finally make eye contact with him, he can see the thankfulness in your gaze. You were getting tired of holding the same position. Bucky steps forward and places one knee on the bed, his hands sliding up your thighs. His fingers snag along the waistband of your thong before he begins pulling it down your legs. You bend your knees to make it easier, and he slips it off gently before dropping it on the floor with your heels and his clothes. He climbs onto the bed now, your legs instantly spreading to let him between them. He crawls over your body and the new sensation of his warm skin against yours is delicious. You wish he would’ve taken your dress off already. When you feel the outline of his hard cock, still covered by his boxers, pressing against your wet, sensitive cunt, your eyes flutter closed and your legs instinctively wrap around his hips. You’ve always been a sucker for this, for having him pressed against you so close yet not close enough. It’s always made you a bit feral and Bucky’s fully aware of that. A knowing smirk spreads across his features as he puts a little more weight into your position, pressing his cock against you a little harder. When you open your eyes and look up at him, he has to remind himself that he can’t just give in a fuck the shit out of you right now. He has an end goal.

“Why do we still have clothes on?” You ask, referring to your dress and his boxers. Bucky chuckles lowly starts circling his hips against you, drawing a soft hum from your pretty lips. He dips his head down and starts leaving light kisses along the side of your neck. He knows that’s a weakness of yours too, his mouth anywhere on your skin. It’s one of the first tactics he deploys when he wants to fuck but he isn’t sure if you’re up for it or not.

“Do you want our clothes off?” Bucky breathes the question against the skin just below your earlobe and you find yourself having trouble concentrating. He can feel you nod, but he doesn’t actually give a damn about what you want right now. He’s not a monster though, so he’ll give you half of what you want. He pushes himself off of you in one swift movement and stands on the floor beside the bed. You turn your head to watch as he slides his boxers down his legs and kicks them off. They join the pile that consists of the rest of his clothes, your heels, and your thong on the floor. When he returns to his position on top of you, you stick out your bottom lip in a pout over him not removing your dress. He’s quick to lean in and suck that bottom lip in between his teeth, biting down on it lightly before slipping his tongue into your mouth. He always tastes so fucking good, though you can never pinpoint what he tastes like. It’s just him. Honestly, you’d let him spit in your mouth if he wanted to.

Bucky kisses a lot like he fucks, with so much passion that it makes your heart race and your mind reel. It makes you think about how mediocre every other kiss with any other guy was, about how kissing was just a minor part of foreplay until you started kissing him. Now kissing is everything. Your hands travel up his sides and settle on either side of his face as you fight to deepen the kiss. When you suck on his tongue, he groans into your mouth and pulls back. You love the way his lips and nose get pink when he kisses you like that.

“No more kissing.” Bucky rasps. You let out a whine that makes his cock twitch. He loves hearing how needy you are for him, but it’s especially enjoyable when he hears how needy you are just for him to kiss you. He starts grinding his now bare cock along the folds of your pussy with just the right amount of pressure, focusing his efforts on your clit. He probably should’ve used his mouth and fingers again for this one, because he’s far too close to cumming just from feeling how wet you are against his shaft. His cock collects your wetness more and more with each thrust of his hips, and for a second he thinks about just letting the tip slide in. He won’t do it though, not yet. He won’t put his cock inside of you until he’s ready to make you cum for the third time.

“You’re being a tease tonight.” You pout, letting your hands find his hips and using your grasp there to pull him harder against you. He stills himself and you let out a frustrated sigh. Why isn’t he giving you more?

“You’re being greedy. You already came once, you should be saying thank you.” Bucky retorts, pushing himself up with his hands and sitting back on his knees between your legs. Your eyes are quick to zone in on his cock, just as his flesh hand is wrapping around it and giving it a firm stroke from the base to the tip. God, you’ve always loved seeing him touch himself. He doesn’t do it in front of you often. Normally the two of you are quick to get down to business and just fuck, but there have been a few very memorable times where you get to see him stroke his cock right before he guides it inside of you. Your tongue darts out, wetting your bottom lip, and for a second Bucky imagines that same tongue all over his fucking cock. No. This isn’t about him tonight. This is about finally making you see what’s been right in front of you all along.

“Please.” The word leaves your lips so softly, so gently, that Bucky’s hand hesitates around his length. He’s never heard you beg before. You’ve never had a reason to, he always gave you what you needed, before you had to ask. A dark feeling settles within his chest as he realizes he likes it.

“Please?” He repeats the word, as if he doesn’t understand the meaning. You see the way his gaze changes from one of lust to one of pure desire. He wants more.

“Please, Bucky. Fuck me.” You give him the most innocent look you can muster up as you lay there in his bed with your pussy exposed and nearly dripping onto his bedding. He tightens his fist around the base of his cock and scrunches his eyes closed, clearly trying to talk himself down from blowing his load way too fucking soon. If he sits there and looks at you any longer, he won’t last, he won’t be able to make it to his end goal tonight. The only thing he can think of to keep himself on track is something that’ll easily obscure his vision of you.

“No, you’re going to sit on my face.” He says roughly, positioning himself on his back next to you. He looks over at you impatiently, he almost looks offended that you’re not already changing positions for him. You’re quick to sit up and swing a leg over his torso, straddling his chest but not making any contact with him yet. “I said my face, sweetheart.”

“I know, but—” You’re about to point out that he’s already eaten you out once tonight and you haven’t even had the chance to reciprocate, when he abruptly grasps your thighs and pulls you over his head. “Fuck.” You mumble the curse word out as he easily pulls you down, your cunt making contact with his mouth as he dives in. You can’t form a single thought as his tongue delves into you. He fucks you with it almost as thoroughly as he did with his fingers just a few minutes ago, thrusting it in and out while your clit brushes against the tip of his nose. His hands slide back to grip your ass and you have to brace your hands on the headboard to keep from putting your full weight on his face. He can feel your resistance and he hates it. He lifts you up an inch just to chastise you.

“I said sit on my fucking face, not hover over it.” He pulls you down again but this time he brings his right hand in to rub harsh circles against your clit as his tongue continues its work on your entrance. You’re panting and breaking out in a sweat within a few seconds. You still haven’t fully sat on his face, so he’s going to give you one more punishment and see if you’ll give in. His vibranium hand moves away from you and the swings back once more, slapping your ass so hard that you fall forward a bit, your cunt landing firmly against Bucky’s mouth. He hums against your pussy in approval, and the sound sends vibrations through your core. Fuck. You’re going to cum a second time and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. When he sets just the right pressure and pace with his flesh fingers on your clit, and his tongue starts lapping into you like eating pussy is his fucking career, your orgasm hits you like a freight train. Your chest is heaving and your knuckles are turning white as your death grip on the headboard threatens to bruise your palms.

“Fuck, I’m cumming. Oh my god, Bucky!” You cry the words out so loudly, yet your voice sounds so far away in your own ears as your orgasm short circuits your entire nervous system. After a few seconds, you realize you’re grinding lazy circles against Bucky’s mouth, and he’s letting you. “Shit.” You mutter, using all of your remaining strength to try to dismount his face. He grasps your thighs to stop you, and then places a long, gentle kiss right against your clit, sucking on it in the slightest bit as he pulls back. Then, he lets you go. You collapse on the bed next to him, your breasts threatening to spill over the low-cut neckline of your dress from tonight’s activities thus far.

“What am I to you?” Bucky asks a third time, rolling onto his side to face you. He gazes at you with a much gentler expression than earlier as he brushes a few loose strands of hair away from your face. He thinks you look so damn perfect like this. You always glow after sex, but after two orgasms you could be mistaken for the fucking sun.

“Bucky…” Your voice trails off as you desperately search your brain for the answer he’s looking for. He obviously doesn’t want you to say that he’s your fuck buddy, and maybe he isn’t. You probably shouldn’t feel as jealous as you do when he ends up on missions with Sharon instead of you, that’s not very fuck-buddy-friendly of you. You also probably shouldn’t hate the few minutes after sex when he’s catching his breath in bed while you’re pulling your clothes on, hoping he won’t be annoyed with how long it takes you to get out of his apartment. Maybe you’re more than fuck buddies. But still, you don’t know what to call it. “I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure.” Bucky repeats slowly, as if he’s tasting the words. His facial expression remains gentle, but the light in his eyes darkens. “Take off your dress.” He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You push yourself up and sit on the side of the bed before pulling the dress over your head and letting it fall to the floor. You haven’t even had the chance to lay back down when he starts moving to sit right behind you, letting his legs come around either side of you so your back presses against his chest. Ah, you see where he’s going with this. The wall that you’re both now facing has a tall standing mirror, giving you the perfect view of your naked body in front of his in the dim light of his bedroom. “Look at yourself.” Bucky coos, cupping your chin with his flesh hand and tilting your head up the tiniest bit. “So fucking pretty.”

His words have you blushing for some reason. Of all of the times you’ve been naked in his bed, you don’t recall him ever saying sweet things to you just for the sake of saying them. Maybe he thought them, you wouldn’t know, but he sure as hell never said them. It sends a wave of warmth throughout your body, and your already pink-tinged cheeks take on another layer of blush. With almost no effort, Bucky places his hands on your hips and pushes you up to a standing position. He then tucks his legs between yours and then grips his cock in his hand. He gives it a few slow pumps before angling you above it and then guiding you to sit down. Right on his fucking dick. The moan that leaves your lips as your head falls back against his shoulder could’ve come from amateur porn. The penetration feels as if it’s happening in slow motion, as you take one-fourth, then half, then three-fourths, and then…his entire fucking cock inside of you.

“That’s it, baby, all of it.” Bucky begins peppering kisses across your neck and right shoulder, but his eyes are locked on the mirror, staring at where the two of you are connected. “Whose fingers make you cum?” He asks, as his right hand skims down your side, straight to your clit. He uses his middle and ring fingers to start gently massaging your already-sensitive clit. You lift your head to meet his gaze in the mirror.

“Yours.” You answer quietly, slowly beginning to slide up and down his length. You’re only moving an inch at a time, not yet adjusted nor ready to fuck his cock how it deserves to be fucked.

“Good girl.” Why does such simple praise from him make you feel like you’re having a mini orgasm on the spot? Jesus. You start fucking half of his cock now, lifting yourself up and then sitting back down, but not daring to pull off anywhere near the tip. “Whose mouth makes you cum?”

“Yours.” You say again, a little louder this time as the pleasure begins building low in your stomach once more.

“That’s right, you’re doing so good for me, baby.” Bucky picks up the pace with his hand. His work on your clit is making stars flash in your vision and your pussy continuous clench around his cock. “And who do you let cum in this perfect little pussy? Huh? Who does this belong to?” He asks, his eyes once again drifting down in the mirror until they land on where his cock is disappearing inside of you. He groans as you sit fully down on it again.

“You, Bucky.” You moan, now fully adjusted to his thick length. You start bouncing on it, unable to control yourself any longer. Bucky’s having none of that. He quickly slides his flesh hand up your stomach, between your breasts, and wraps it around your neck. He isn’t choking you, he’s merely gaining your full attention with an authoritative move. You freeze, your eyes locking onto his in the mirror as you sit there with his entire length inside of you.

“I’m going to fuck the shit out of you, and then I’m going to cum inside you so fucking deep that you might end up pregnant.” His filthy words give you as much pleasure as any touch, any kiss, any physical thing he could ever do to you. Your pussy tightens around him at the promise that he’s just spoken. “Now tell me, why would you be here right now, letting me do that? What am I to you?”

“Everything.”

Finally, you gave him the right answer.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu #bucky barnes x you #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier #bucky barnes smut #smut #mcu smut #marvel smut #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

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greatooglymooglyyy · 23 days

Note

Heyyyyy

I suck at coming up with requests but I want stories so bad lmfao 😭✋

Anyways, I saw that you were looking for requests and decided to throw one over.

Could you do a story that has to do with Matt and a reader who is really artsy and will straight up draw on his arms and color in his tattoos at the most random times?

Hope thats not too terrible an attempt at a concept lol, thanks

🦥

You Drew Stars (M.S.)

contains: fluff, kissing, general teethrotting sweetness, 900+ words

a/n: anon do you even remember requesting this? lmao listen i love you. this is a bit different from what you said butttt i tried.

“You sure you won’t be bored?” Matt asks as he settles in his gaming chair, looking over his shoulder to where I’m seated.

I smile over at him and shake my head at the question. It's one he asks every time he starts a stream when I’m around. “I’m sure. But are you sure it’s okay if I paint in here?”

After I fell asleep waiting for him to finish a game last week, Matt came home with an unreasonable amount of art supplies. I’d been watching Bob Ross videos on repeat for a couple of months- What can I say? He’s a gateway drug- and he thought I'd like to try painting for myself.

“Of course you can. That’s like the whole point.” Matt answers with a smile. I readjust the sheet under me anyway before I squeeze a small amount of paint onto my palette.

As I start to sketch out an outline with a pencil, I hear Matt start his stream and greet everybody. He starts his game up and begins to explain where he is in his game so I pop in one of my airpods and try to focus. After about twenty minutes, Matt swivels his chair around quickly and I look up at the sound.

“What’s on my floor?” He reads out with a laugh making me realize I hadn’t thought to check if I was in the frame. But it's too late now and I’m not about to crawl across the floor so I pop my head up and wave. “Hi, chat.”

He gestures out for me so I stand and go to his side, letting him wrap an arm around my waist. I lean into him, resting my head against his, while I read. “I was painting but I’m just a beginner. It’s not good yet.”

“That’s not true,” Matt says, holding up his phone and showing off his lock screen. It's a picture of a drawing I did on his back a couple of days ago. We’d been watching a movie in his bed when he fell asleep so I’d taken the opportunity to paint Charmander. “She did this in like an hour. I didn’t want to wash it off.”

I roll my eyes at him and squint at the chat trying to pick out a comment to respond to. “Do another one? I should when he’s done streaming.” I say with a smile, going to pull away and lay back on the floor.

“You can do it now,” Matt says, pulling me back to him. “Go get the other chair. I’ll stay still.”

I give him a look of disbelief. “You can’t sit still and stream.”

“I only need one arm. C’mon.” He says, moving me gently out of his way so he can scoot his chair over.

Well, I guess this is happening. I shrug and do what he says, collecting my art supplies and rolling the spare chair over to him.

I decide to try painting tiny planets because they seem easy enough and they fill in the gaps between his tattoos. He smiles when I begin, muttering about it tickling, but then turns his attention back to the game.

To his credit, he does try to keep his promise and stay still, only jumping up or making a big disturbance a couple of times. When I’m done, I sit back and stare at his arm. It’s kind of cute when you turn your head and squint.

Noticing I’m not painting anymore, Matt looks down at his arm and gasps dramatically. “Look, guys.” He says, carefully lifting his arm to show his stream.

I cover my face with my hands and shake my head. “You’re so embarrassing.”

He nods at where his phone lies between us. “Take a picture before I accidentally fuck it up.”

*******************************************

A week later, I’m still being tagged in edits of us from the stream. Currently, I’m lying on my stomach, kicking my feet and giggling over the comments on a new one. ‘The way he looks at her. God, when will it be my turn.’ As if my ego needed more stroking. Just as I like one asking if I can fight, Matt’s door opens and I look up. I hadn’t even heard them come home.

“Hi, baby.” He says as he pulls off his shirt and opens his closet. My face screws up when I notice his arm has been wrapped in saran wrap. “Hey. You got a new tattoo? You didn’t tell me.”

Usually, the night before he gets a tattoo, he googles images to have a good idea of what he wants. We stay up for hours looking through drafts together so I’m a little sad he didn’t want my input this time.

Matt grins at me, coming over to sit on the bed. “It was a surprise.” He starts to unwrap his arm, wincing slightly, and my jaw drops when I recognize what it is.

With as light a touch as I can manage, I smooth my fingers over the tiny drawings of Saturn and Venus. My eyes start to water as I look up to meet his eyes. “You got my painting.”

“I did.” He says, leaning in close and placing a kiss on my jawline.

“Why?” I ask, in equal parts wonder and bewilderment. “You said you want to fill that gap with something special.”

He pulls back and raises his brows. “It is special. My girl drew it for me.”

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outerbankies · 20 days

Note

“it’s late, come back to bed.”

PROMPT CELLY GO BRRRRRRRRR. thank u for requesting this one (forever ago) bestie!!!! 💓🤩👯‍♀️

—

new light: space and time

rafe x reader, part of the 2k prompt celly for new light (masterlist if ur not up on NL). we’re back in the present!

A stubborn knot about the size of a fist had settled into place at the top of Rafe’s spine slowly over the last few weeks, right in between his often-taught shoulder blades.

He guesses it was during the late nights like these that it began to form, when he’s hunched over his sketching table in the garage lit only by the warm lightbulb in the work lamp over his head—drawing and erasing and scrapping to start over again and again. Or when he’s on his laptop tinkering with his website or any of the platforms he uses for invoicing and processing orders, easily his least favorite part of all of this, until his eyes are irritated and red.

Though it’s certainly not made better by the other half of his day, where he’s hunched over or crouching under his projects as he brings them to life, doubting himself the entire time, twisting himself into weird angles just to make sure everything holds and looks how he pictured it. But at least he likes that part.

A hand, holding a warmth that Rafe can feel through the cotton of his long-sleeve t-shirt, settles directly into place over that knot at the top of his spine, and he feels himself take a deep, steadying breath as he leans back into your touch.

“What’s this, baby, the built-ins?” you ask, your voice softer in these midnight hours.

“Yeah,” Rafe sighs, immediately rubbing his hands into his eyes, his knuckles turning his vision bleary momentarily. “For Beau’s friend.”

“Mmm,” you hum, slightly digging the heel of your palm into his back. Rafe lets out a groan. “There?”

“Right there,” he confirms, letting his head drop back gratefully, accepting a few sleepy kisses once he goes.

You place your other hand on his shoulder for some leverage, leaning over him to peer at his catastrophe of a workstation. “I thought you’d already gone over the sketches with them?”

“I did,” he says. “But they go in tomorrow.”

“Right,” you nod, scrutinizing them again, looking to see if they’d changed at all. “I remember.”

“So I’m just making sure—” Rafe stops momentarily, letting out a hiss. “Careful, baby.”

The pressure on his back eases immediately, and you take to rubbing your hand across the span of his shoulders instead. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I’m just making sure I have everything down,” he continues, leaning forward again. “I wanna know my stuff before I head in.”

“What if I quiz you? On measurements and colors and finishes and—”

“I appreciate the enthusiasm,” he interjects, his smile rivaling yours when you finally settle into his lap like he’d been angling for you to since he heard the garage door open and knew he’d be getting that reprieve from the mess inside his head. “But it doesn’t really work like that, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, snaking your arms around his neck anyway, the pads of your fingers rubbing circular motions into his trouble spot again. “Then how else can I get you to come back to bed?”

Guilt settles into Rafe’s stomach like a rock, the soreness in his back momentarily forgotten as he sees the plea in your eyes. “I swear I’ll be up soon.”

“Rafe, it’s late.”

“Coming from you,” he retorts, virtually no bite behind his words. Because as Rafe had left Beau’s company months ago and only since then become more entrenched in his new job, in starting his own business, you’d seamlessly settled in at your job at the publishing house, not overworking yourself nearly as much as the two of you used to argue about. Still more than Rafe would ever prefer, naturally, but he’s not sure he has room to talk anymore.

“We’re turning into perfect little Figure 8 capitalists right on schedule, aren’t we?” you say, wiggling around in his lap in a way he isn’t convinced isn’t a punishment for abandoning his side of the bed a few hours ago.

You lean forward, grabbing one of the pencils Rafe had discarded and tapping it on your chin while he checks his watch, feeling his eyes widen.

“God, I’m turning into my dad.”

“No you’re not,” you laugh, still leaning out of his reach as you seem to start writing something in one the margins. You pause, pointing the pencil at the long-cold cup of coffee next to his pencil cup. “Unless there’s secretly liquor in your decaf over there. You know decaf still has caffeine in it, right?”

At Rafe’s silence, you turn to him with your eyebrows raised, the pencil dropping out of your hand and clattering onto the table.

“Like… trace amounts, right?” he asks sheepishly.

“My sweet, sweet boy,” you sigh, running your fingers through the hair on top of Rafe’s head that’s really beginning to need a cut.

“Probably need it,” he shrugs. “I’ll only be up a little while longer though. Promise.”

“You’re really worried about this one, aren’t you?” you ask him softly, some of the mirth fading in your eyes as you trace a finger around the shell of his ear.

“It’s Beau’s friend, baby, I… these guys could have anyone working on their houses. And Beau was really good to me about quitting. I just wanna nail this one and be done with it,” Rafe admits.

He doesn’t tack on the bit about how this feels like one of his first big tests; his first custom, built-in piece period, outside of the ones he’s made for his most forgiving audience, his sisters and you. Because it’s one thing to make a piece for a friend of a friend of a friend, or even to sell one in a store where someone can see it and touch it and decide that they hate it before they have to commit. But it’s another to have someone counting on him to deliver exactly what they envision, let alone someone who could be Rafe’s foot in the door to a wealth of opportunities. He wants to be done with it at this point, sure, but he doesn’t want it to be the end of this road.

“Exactly,” you say, shrugging. “They could have anyone. And I love you, Rafe, but I mean literally anyone else. But your designs are good. Really good. And your craftsmanship is impeccable. They want you.”

He feels his cheeks heating up, and knows it’s showing based on the twinkle in your eye. “You’re an expert in furniture and carpentry now, are you?”

“I am, because I’ve now lived in two Pinterest-level apartments without ever having to hire a contractor. And I’m a picky bitch,” you say, laughing around the last bit.

“You are not,” Rafe laughs. “And half of that is your decorating. Maybe 70, 75%.”

“Your modestly will never not exhaust me,” you declare, smacking one last kiss onto his lips before standing up. “You’re gonna be fine tomorrow, alright? But you’ve got to get some sleep.”

“Ten minutes?” he pleads.

“I will generously give you ten seconds instead. It’s your lucky day,” you say, shuffling toward the doorway back into the house, where two curious dogs await your return.

“Thanks,” he answers sarcastically, before standing to check everything over one last time. These guys could have anyone, he tells himself. They chose him.

He’s gathering his pencils to deposit back into the cup, just about to reach over his head and turn off his work lamp for the night when he sees it, what you’d been scribbling into the margin on one of his designs: you got this RC. hurry home!

At just the same moment that he’s he’s tracing over your loopy “y” and the heart you’d finished your note off with, you call out his name from the doorway, his family waiting for him.

You give him a saccharine-sweet smile, your arms crossed over your chest. “I wasn’t asking.”

#answered #cognacdelights #frankie so very sorry ur being tagged in rafe x reader fic but u asked for it by being my long distance tumblr mutual #new light hcs #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction

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uva124 · 2 months

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So yeah, I finished the drawing of Asha's redesign from Wish :D, maybe I'll make some changes in the future, but I'm happy to have finished it, it should be noted that I haven't seen the movie. , so I can't give my opinion on it yet, but I found it very interesting that their fandom is mainly made up of people who rewrote or made their own version of the movie, they are all very creative and it got me out of an artistic block. that I had a few months ago, but above all I found the rewriting of @annymation which is the one I have been most hooked on, so I wanted to do some redesigns of the characters coming out of its rewriting, that's why everything that has to do with the story of this version of Asha, as well as her personality and her world on which I base my drawing are the ideas and work of this account: @annymation

I'm just making a drawing of her character and how I would design her as well as sharing part of the process I had to do to draw her because, why not?

BOARD:

The first thing I had to do was put together a table full of references that reminded me of the character and things that I would like to add to her design, so I used milanote to do it:

-Looked for some Asha's concept art and save the ones I liked the most, and add the main colors that I used in the design. -I also created notes to write down the personality of the character and some of his data to have a better guide, I did a little research and found publications that talked a lot about Asha's discarded designs and how Disney workers had put that she had tribe ancestry Amazigh on his mother's side and since his father was from the Iberian Peninsula, that's why the next thing I wanted to do is research more about their culture. -I am not an expert on this topic, nor do I belong to the cultures from which Asha has ancestry, so you can comment on any correction regarding this topic, I wanted to implement details of this culture to her design and I would really like to give a correct representation :)

HAIRSTYLE

Continuing with the theme, I saw that the hairstyles in the Amazigh culture mostly had this type of colorful decorations on their braids and dreadlocks, that's why I also posted these reference photos for Asha's hairstyle.

-Finally I decided that Asha would not have all her hair full of braids or dreadlocks, but only a few accompanied by these decorations with a great variation of colors, although it was fun to sketch the many hairstyle options that I had in mind based on these concept art and other photos that I had saved

TATTOOS:

-Another detail that I liked was giving Asha some tattoos with designs from the Amazigh culture, because I saw that it was quite common for women to get them, the tattoo on her forehead is a symbol of protection against bad influences, that's why the The middle symbol is responsible for deflecting it in the 4 directions, I also added a similar one in Asha's right hand.

ASTROLOGY AND THE SPACE:

-An important part of Asha's rewrite is her knowledge of astronomy inherited from her father, especially with the stars for obvious reasons xd, so in addition to adding constellations to her dresses, research the meaning (or something like that) of the planets. Only 3 really reminded me of the character, which were: -Mars: Symbolization of the internal conquering function of moving forward, independent, self-determined, enduring failures with new energy, courage and energy to fight for your desires. -Saturn: Maturity, effort to solidly build realistic criteria, frustrations are transformed into objectives to continue growing, critical and realistic, far from getting frustrated when an objective does not work, you strive to move forward and obtain even more resistant and solid achievements, perseverance , and tenacity (I feel like yhis it the most similar to Asha :D) -Moon: protective role, feeling very vulnerable outside your known areas, feeling of security with your ties, importance of family ties. The one that reminded me the most of Asha was Saturn, that's why I drew those Saturn-shaped earrings :).

SUITS:

I looked for references and placed some on milanote, I noticed that the concept art was mainly divided into whether the dresses have lilac colors or warm colors, I decided to draw 2 models based on the discarded designs, although at first I thought of using only one color palette lilac and bluish, I realized that the reddish colors of her dress reminded me of Mars which has certain meanings that in my opinion coincide with Asha's personality. In the end I didn't decide what wardrobe she would primarily have 😅, but I like to think that in this version of Wish, Asha would have wardrobe and hairstyle changes like in some older Disney movies.

-These are some of the concepts that I mainly used for my version of the dresses

FINAL COMMENTS:

I am satisfied with the result, it was fun to make all this, although what I researched mostly seems little, it actually cost me several hours and I did it at night, so as a funny fact the next day I was explaining all this information to my mother and I felt like I looked like that:

(Make this drawing was so funny LMAO)

(Apologies if there are errors in my writing, English is not my first language and my writing is very basic)

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loopyarts · 17 days

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An illustration of Sora with her beloved children helping them out with a difficult part in the game.

About roughly a month and a week ago me and art pals @pharaohzeth and @middlenightsun did another art train together and we used the same reference photo and it was perfect for a drawing with Sora together with her beloved children. Although, I did do a sketch for the art train in that month, but I had only just now finally got around to finishing my piece on it. :3c Me always being the last one to finish will probably never change ha ha. XD

#one piece #vinsmoke sora #vinsmoke reiju #vinsmoke ichiji #vinsmoke niji #one piece sanji #vinsmoke yonji #vinsmoke family #vinsmoke siblings #digital illustration #germa 66 #my art #He he I hope people will see the little details and references I put into the piece #Hmm a somewhat modern vinsmoke au yeah let’s go with that #vinsmoke sanji #Sora being a gamer mama yes please he he Niji takes after his mum in being pretty good at games :3c

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pascalcampion · 5 months

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Under the Boardwalk.

I was at Lightbox a few weeks ago and I bumped into a friend I hadn’t seen in a while. ( hey Francis! We need to do lunch) He was laughing because he said that he had just seen a trailer for this thing I did some work on years ago. It took me a minute to realize he was talking about Under the Boardwalk. Movies do take a while to get done.

Anytime I see a movie in a theater that doesn’t come from Pixar, Disney, Illumination or Dreamworks, I clap my hands in my mind. It is SO hard to get to the finish line. Each movie that you see is the result of a series of small miracles.

I did a couple months of work on it. I was think it was in preproduction at the time. It was called Jersey Crabs at the time and there were only three people on it. At least, I only met three.

There was Chris Zibach, Ericka Stewart and David Soren.

I had just come off of two rather long and hard productions and I was a bit burned out about Art direction, production design or just… design in general.

When I first got an email about this, I wasn’t sure. But I went over to Paramount to meet with all three of them.

And you know what? They were fantastic.

Ericka was the producer and she had this no nonsense approach. Tell me your price, I’ll tell you if we can do it, if not we’ll figure something out. Boom. Done. She cut to the chase and any time I had a question she would reply within the hour. Her feedback was always short and precise, and she was always encouraging. After I was gone, she emailed me a couple of times to follow up on this or that. She didn’t leave any loose ends AND, something that is absolutely remarkable in this industry, she would reply to emails. She didn’t simply reply when she needed something, but when I would ask her if I could send recommendations, or if there were any other projects going on, she would send me an email back. I think the longest it took her to reply was TWO days, which is incredible.

Chris Zibach. It wasn’t immediately clear what Chris’s role on this was. I knew he was an artist. I had met him a few years prior while visiting a friend at Dreamworks TV I think. He was quieter than Ericka. Not sure if he was shy or I was simply too aloof for him to talk to me. For whatever reason, when I saw him, I thought of Tim Burton. Maybe the genius in him? Not sure. Later, I learned he was the production designer. I was surprised because that is something I typically learn on the first meeting. I was also unsure of his role because I hadn’t seen any of his work before and he didn’t act like any of the production designers I had met before. He wasn’t bombastic or sure of himself. He wasn’t trying to win me over with his talent or past battlefield experiences. He was humble. Yes, I think that’s probably the right word. Humble. But at the time, I couldn’t figure out if it was humility or something else.

It became clear after the first few designs of his I’d seen and especially after I had done a sketch for a moment that I couldn’t quite picture. I wasn’t understanding what they were looking for and Chris did this thirty second sketch that was SO clear, SO readable and SO easy to work with, and I was. OH! Ok.. he’s the real deal.

I love Artists like him. I wish I had worked with him more actually.

And, David Soren, the director

That was such an interesting meeting.

You know how sometimes you are hesitating on a project and you meet the team and all of a sudden it all flips? That’s how it was for this. I didn’t know what this story was based on, I didn’t find crabs particularly interesting, and the story, as it was pitched, wasn’t what I gravitate toward.

But David, wow. He had this energy in the meeting, this confidence. He was good at talking but he could listen AND hear you. He could also answer questions. Any type of question regarding the art, the story, the schedule, the planning. I didn’t know much about him but I came away very impressed.

I gave it a shot and now, I feel I was lucky to have been asked because, even if I was only on this for a very short while, it was one of those candy like work experiences. All good, nothing bad. Short and sweet and really fun.

There was a moment when I was drawing this big long scene that was supposed to be in the middle of a battle and I stopped, look at it and laughed on the inside because I had just realized I was being paid to do this and THIS was SO much fun.

I don’t know what my job was, what I was supposed to bring to the project. I didn’t understand why they had me do these designs when Chris’s work was so different and so unique already, but all three did a good job at quieting those thoughts.

I was working from home and they were on the lot. If I remember correctly, they would send me emails to broadly tell me “ There is a flood there, there is a battle there, there is club, a hotel, etc etc” and I would just do some images on what I thought it could be.

They already had some character designs, and Chris had done a few images, so I wasn’t totally going from nothing.

Each time I would send a set of images, I would get an email back the same day or the next day from either Ericka or David telling me something nice. Never from Chris though. I always wondered why but now I am realizing it was because he was too busy getting the whole thing off the ground.

I would get notes sometimes but not very often. Chris would do little drawers or notes on my images and, again, they were always minimal except for that one set piece and always clear.

I don’t know what the movie is like. I was still working on this when I started with the Peanuts Special which would occupy my life for the next three and a half years.

But I do know that I remember this as a very fun, loving and carefree work experience, which have not come around very often in my career.

Thank you Ericka, Chris and David.

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You're commenting as Pascal Campion.

#undertheboardwalk paramount pascalcampion

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ageingfangirl2 · 7 months

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A Reason To Come Back! Shanks (OPLA) Part 2

Reader is a mermaid who washed up close to death in Luffy's village and made a home for themselves. Shanks comes back and tries to convince y/n to join his crew. Shanks x Female Reader.

Part 1

Y/N

'Then join my crew!' Shanks said in a carefree manner.

That was four months ago, you didn't quite believe Shanks would go through with his promise, so you said yes.

After that first meeting, you went back to the tavern with Shanks to meet the rest of his crew, after stopping at your house to get some dry clothes. Shanks had so many questions about mermaids just like Luffy did and you tried to answer all of them. Maybe Luffy was right about him being a good guy, he gave off the vibe of someone you could trust but wouldn't want to cross.

You were nervous meeting the rest of his crew since pirates were primarily male, but they quickly put you at ease and were amazed at just how much booze you could put away, turns out that was a pro of being a mermaid. One of the newer crew tried to hit on you and it was then you revealed apparently what Shanks suspected when he heard you laugh, and that was your ability to compel. Let's just say the rest of the crew would never let the guy live down the humiliation you put him through.

Before he went to bed Shanks told Luffy of the promise he'd made to you. At first, the boy was upset that you wouldn't be joining his crew but was happy you'd both be pirates one day.

It did feel nice to let loose, laugh and have fun around others. And Shanks kept his eye on you the whole night. Maybe returning to the sea one day might just happen for you. You sketched a rough drawing of the jolly roger you'd seen during your escape, and it turned out Shanks and his crew didn't like that crew already so were all on board to help you.

During those four months, you kept yourself busy, fishing, helping around the village and keeping an eye on Luffy. You also had started putting things aside in case Shanks kept his promise and you had to join his crew which didn't seem that bad.

Today you'd just finished swimming and were returning to your house when you saw a familiar red-haired pirate sitting on your porch.

'SHANKS!' you call out.

SHANKS

I should have known y/n wouldn't be at home. They weren't in town when we arrived so I assumed they were swimming in the cove. Other than Luffy and myself no one else had been to the cove to see her mermaid form, it was her private space.

'SHANKS!' y/n calls out.

I look up to see the red-haired girl walking up the path towards me smiling and dripping wet. It was very unusual to see someone with the same hair colour as myself but y/n explained mermaids either got the colour from their mother or father or could get a mixture of both but y/n got her mother's red hair and tail.

I stand up and embrace y/n, who hugs me back. She was a lot smaller than me, but that didn't mean you should underestimate her, 'I told you I'd come back. You get younger each time I see you.'

y/n blushes at the compliment and playfully shoves me back, 'How old do you think I am Shanks?'

My face drops, this was a trap women liked to set to trip men up, 'err I don't know maybe early twenties.'

y/n grins, 'Such a charmer, we're the same age Shanks, mermaids just age slower and appear more youthful.'

I was shocked by her answer but also relieved. I said the early twenties to not sound awful when y/n could easily pass for eighteen or nineteen. At least we wouldn't have a kid on the crew with us.

'I didn't come to ask your age y/n, I came because I have something for you.'

y/n tilts their head and their eyes widen, 'what do you have for me? How's the arm by the way? Still getting used to only having one?'

Before leaving last time I'd lost my arm rescuing Luffy. I had no regrets and would do it again. It was tough but I was slowly adapting.

'Some days are harder than others but it will take time,' I reply honestly.

I reach behind me and under my cloak pull a wrapped-up piece of black fabric before handing it to y/n. y/n slowly unwraps the fabric and gasps loudly.

'You did it Shanks...this is the jolly roger I saw...thank you...' y/n stumbles over their words, tears pricking their eyes, 'what happened?'

It warmed my heart to see her get happy and emotional staring at the flag belonging to the ship that killed her family, 'they had a lot of enemies, and my crew simply pinned them against each other until they were no more. You're free to return to the sea y/n.'

y/n puts the flag down and throws themselves at me, causing me to grunt at the sudden impact but y/n wasn't that heavy so I was able to catch her as she hugged and clung onto me, 'you kept your end up so I'll keep mine, looks like I'm joining your crew Shanks.'

I laugh and put y/n down, 'Welcome to The Red Hair Pirates. I think you'll fit in nicely.'

It turned out that y/n was already packed, ready for the day to arrive. The rest of the crew and Luffy were waiting at the tavern, so we headed down there with y/n's belongings.

'I'M GOING TO MISS YOU SO MUCH Y/N!' Luffy shouts in y/n's face as soon as we enter the tavern, but y/n simply smiles and ruffles his hair not fazed by the loudness.

'I'm going to miss you more,' y/n replies and squeezes his cheek.

I clear my throat behind them and they both look up at me, 'What about me Luffy, won't you miss me?'

Luffy grins like an idiot, 'Of course, I'll miss you Shanks, you made me want to become a pirate but how many mermaids am I going to meet in my life?'

y/n sniggers, 'and since I'm now a pirate mermaid I guess you're number two in his eyes Shanks or should I say, captain.'

I roll my eyes but embrace the situation. Things were going to be a lot more interesting with y/n on the crew.

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heartateasee · 2 months

Text

“Four”

Word Count: 10k

(Part four of ‘Goodnight and Go’)

⋆★★⋆

*One month until the wedding*

My phone vibrates as I sit at my desk at home - working on a couple of sketches I needed to complete for some upcoming clients. I finished my apprenticeship at the shop about four months ago, and my books had been filling up more and more. It felt nice to finally be working on my own when it came to something I had been striving towards for such a long time.

I set my pencil down as I grab my phone, and I see the notification is for a text from Harry. Sucking in a deep breath, I stare at the screen - trying to decide whether or not I wanted to read what he had to say right now.

He's been trying to get me to come out for his bachelor party tomorrow, and I've been avoiding giving him a direct answer. It's not that I didn't want to go - I just didn't know if it would be in our best interests for me to do so.

These past few months had been tense between not only Gwen and I, but also between me and my mother. I was still involved in planning the wedding, but Gwen had stopped letting me hang around her place any longer than I needed to if she, Harry and I were all together. Once whatever wedding thing we were working on was finished, she made it obvious that she was ready for me to leave. I obeyed every single time - not really wanting to stick around anyway.

My mother and I were hardly on speaking terms. If she was around for any of the wedding planning, she acted like I was invisible for the most part. All of her attention was on Gwen, regardless if I was contributing my opinion to the situation or not. It was obvious she didn't care about what I had to say or suggest, and she was only going to hear Gwen out.

I was more than shocked when Gwen said that I could invite a plus one to the wedding considering Harry had invited Kieran as a separate guest now, and Kieran would be bringing her girlfriend.

For the sake of comfort, I had ended up asking Alfie to join me. I remember the night I told Gwen that I had invited him. We were working on table charts at Harry's apartment, and she seemed overjoyed that I had asked someone to come with me. It wasn't until she had stepped out of the kitchen to use the restroom that I finally met Harry's eyes after breaking the news, and he had a stern look on his face. We didn't talk about it, and we still haven't talked about it. I hope to keep it that way.

Some higher power above must have been looking out for me in terms of Gwen's bachelorette party. She was traveling to Vegas with all the bridesmaids and, of course, I was supposed to be included in all of that. An opportunity arose at the shop where they were needing volunteers for an upcoming tattoo convention in the area, and I immediately jumped in to help out. It was the same weekend as her bachelorette, and I lied. I told Gwen that I had already signed up previously before her engagement, and that there wasn't any way for me to back out because they wouldn't be able to get help last minute. I told her that it had slipped my mind until three weeks before the trip.

I expected her to be angry - to curse me out and tell me how ungrateful I was that she would even include me, and then I'd just deny her.

But she didn't.

Gwen didn't even care that I wasn't able to go, and I can't tell you how much of a relief it was to know that I wasn't going to get a mouthful from her regarding it. I knew overall she'd probably have a better time without me there anyway, but I still expected her to have something snarky to say.

During her trip away, Harry had asked if I wanted to come over to help him put together some ideas on gifts to get his groomsmen, but I declined. The last thing I needed was my mother to find out that I had gone over there when Gwen was out of town. I would've never heard the end of that.

Harry had tried to talk to me about what happened at the engagement party on a few separate occasions, but I dismissed his invitation to do so every time. I just told him that we both had alcohol in our system, and that I didn't know what I was saying when it came to separating ourselves from each other. Even though I said I didn't mean it, I know he could still feel that I was gradually doing it. It sucked because now I was the one to sporadically text him when he used to be the one doing that to me.

But it was necessary - for both of us.

Deciding not to put it off any longer, I lick over my bottom lip as I click on the notification to open up our message thread.

From: Harry 8:47 pm Hey, are you busy? I wanted to talk to you about the party tomorrow. I know you haven't given me an answer, but I'd really just like to go over the details with you.

I read over the words a couple of times to get them to register - chewing subconsciously on the inside of my cheek while doing so. Almost every part of me wanted to go, to be there for him, but something inside of me was telling me it would be a mistake to go. I had the fear of Gwen overreacting about it, or my mom using it to justify her claim of me playing some 'game' with my sister and her relationship.

Then there was the part of my brain that kept nagging me, reminding me that this could really be one of the last times Harry and I get together - just the two of us. The wedding was in a month, and after that, I knew that I would probably hardly see Gwen and Harry both.

I push myself up from my desk and head over to my couch. I lay myself down on it, staring up at the ceiling as I contemplate whether or not to call Harry, but I know that ultimately I need to.

"Here goes nothing," I whisper to myself as I press the call button next to his contact, bringing the phone up to my ear.

My fingers play with the hem of the cropped tank top I have on, my legs sprawled out across the cushions of my couch in my cotton pajama shorts. The phone rings a few times before I hear it click.

"Hey."

I close my eyes at the sound of his voice - a bolt of electricity shooting straight to my heart. My stomach stirs due to the giddiness I'm feeling just by talking to him.

My body's reaction to his just his voice was enough evidence to tell me no matter how much I tried to distance myself from him, my feelings would still remain.

"Hey you," I say back, tucking my bottom lip between my teeth.

"I'm not bothering you at work or anything, right?"

My lips turn up into a soft smile as I shake my head - even though I know he can't see me. "No, I'm just at home. Laying on the couch now, but I was working on some sketches before I called."

"Oh yeah?" I can hear the excitement in his voice, and it causes me to smile even wider. "That's fucking awesome, Carter. The shop's been treating you well since you finished your apprenticeship?"

It stung a bit to know that we hadn't really discussed that accomplishment together, but we've just never had the time to do so. My father was the only one that really talked to me about it, and even though he was hesitant about the whole tattoo thing in the beginning, I could tell that he was over the moon that I had actually completed that goal for myself.

"Really well, actually," I tell him honestly. "I've had a lot of clients come through. Some of them have even booked me on the spot for another tattoo after they see the work I can do. I'm working on two pretty decent sized pieces right now. One is a thigh piece for this girl, and the other is a quarter sleeve for this older guy. He's fucking badass, dude. The piece is for his grandchildren."

I almost hold back from saying what I say next, but I also can't help but let it slip out. "He reminds me a bit of you, actually. His one arm is completely tatted, but the arm I'm tattooing is pretty much blank except for a few here and there. He said he was keeping it clear for sentimental ones."

"Damn, no way," he laughs into the phone, and I can tell that he's smiling just as wide as I am. "Well, if he reminded you of me, how do I look as a grandfather? Tell me the truth."

I burst out laughing, tossing my head back a bit on the pillow it was resting on. "Harry, he doesn't look like you or anything!"

"Sorry, I just had to ask, you know? I hope I'm sexy when my hair is all silver and shit."

"If you have any hair left at that age," I tease with a smirk - knowing that Harry has freaked out in the past several times about going bald at some point.

"I know you didn't just say that," as angry as he tries to sound, his tone is still playful. "You better take that back right now."

I giggle softly. "Or what?"

"Then I revoke the invitation to my party," he responds, and I can see the smug look he'd be wearing on his face right now if I were to be with him.

"The party that I haven't even said 'yes' to, by the way, so your threat is a little low on the scale there."

There's a beat of silence, and I can feel that the conversation is about to shift. I close my eyes - bracing myself for what he could say next.

"Do you really not want to come? I won't make you feel bad or anything if you don't want to. I just...I don't know. I've just always pictured you being there for it since I started planning it," his voice shows vulnerability, and it initiates a tug to my heartstrings.

"It's not that I don't want to, Harry. I just don't know if it's the best idea with how things have been," I sigh, starting to pull on a stray string on my shorts.

I knew that I didn't need to elaborate on what I meant any further. He knew exactly what I was talking about.

"I've already talked to Gwen about it, and I'm not going to lie, she did try to fight me on a little bit. I let it rest for a while before I brought it up again, but I explained myself further the second time, and then she understood. She's okay with you going."

I let silence take over again for a moment as I process his words.

"I just know that we can get a little wild together," I start, closing my eyes as I drape my forearm over them. "I just don't want her to get upset if we get too drunk or something."

"It's my bachelor party, Carter. I think she expects for me to get a little wild," he chuckles. "Within reason, of course."

I'm quiet for a little longer before I speak again. "I just don't want to cause more issues than I already have."

I was never told about what happened between Gwen and Harry after I left their engagement party, and I didn't care to know. I'm sure that he got yelled at. Him being belittled or talked down to was something that I didn't wish to hear about. Harry didn't deserve that. The only person that had tried to talk to me further about everything that happened that night other than Harry was my father. He said that he wanted to hear what I had to say because he knew that my mom was probably exaggerating what she had seen.

For the first time, I opened up to my father about my feelings towards Harry. He had been none the wiser when it came to how I felt towards my best friend. I was surprised that my mother hadn't told him about what she had suspected, but he said that she had never uttered a word about it. Just like Kieran, he actually encouraged me to speak up, and as much as that warmed my heart that he now understood me, it also made me feel guilty. Guilty because now I wasn't just coming between Harry and Gwen, I was also coming between my parents.

One parent furious that I could ever feel such a way, and the other trying to steer me towards pure honesty with the one person who needed to hear my feelings the most.

"I understand where you're coming from, please know that I do, but...I know I've said it before-"

"But who knows when we'll find the time to do these things once you're married?" I ask, dropping my arm back down away from my eyes to rest my hand on my stomach. "Yeah, you may have said that to me once or twice."

I hear Harry sigh through the phone, and I curl my fingers into a fist - knuckles brushing against my skin. Never in my life have I ever been anxious around him like I have been these past few months. It was an odd feeling. I just never knew what he would say next, and I think it's because most of what we talked about had to deal with a lot of outside forces. Our friendship was now being slightly controlled by those around us.

"Yeah," Harry breathes.

My heart is slightly rattling against my chest now, and I don't even know how to respond. I want to ask why it's so important for us to spend so much time together before he's married, but I know that his answer won't match why it's so important to me.

That causes me to swallow the question down.

I try to steer the conversation away from Gwen and my mother being why I'm so hesitant so that it can grow a bit lighter. "Your groomsmen won't think it's weird that you've asked a girl to come along?"

I knew most of Harry's friends, a couple of his groomsmen were guys we had gone to college with, but a couple were also from back home in Holmes Chapel. Those were the guys I had never met before. Harry always talked about taking me there, but we never got around to it after finishing college. I had only met his parents before because they came here to visit him.

"Well, you know that Lance and Gavin will be more than happy to see you. I told them I was trying to get you to come, and they were hoping I could convince you," he huffs a laugh before continuing. "Ross and Shane are aware of who you are, and they don't think it's strange if you're there. They know how close we are - how much you mean to me."

Harry has said that last phrase so many times in our friendship, and it never ceases to cause my whole body to tingle. I know him saying that means something completely different than when I say it to him. It serves as a permanent reminder that I have to take his words for what they are - not what I want them to be.

"You don't have to stay the whole time. Even if you just come for a couple of drinks, I'll be happy. I'm actually keeping it really low-key. We're going to one of the bars that's not too far from you, I think? It's called Chemistry."

I knew of the bar he was speaking of, and he was right, it was only a couple of blocks down from my apartment.

"Yeah, that's just a little ways down from me," I run my fingers through my hair. Swallowing down my doubts, I conjure up all the courage to power through. "I'll meet you there. What time?"

"Wait, really?!" The octave of Harry's voice changes drastically, and I can tell he's both excited and shocked that I've agreed.

"Really," I laugh, still pushing my nervousness down. "Just tell me what time, H, and I'll be there."

"We're planning to meet around ten. Does that work for you?"

"That's perfect. I get off at eight tomorrow, so that gives me plenty of time to come home and freshen up before going back out."

"Fuck, okay," he laughs, and I can tell he's more than excited. "I'm so happy you agreed. You know I'd never make you feel guilty for not coming, but I just really wanted you to be there."

"I'll be more than happy to be there," I say, twirling a piece of hair around my finger. "Always want to be there for you."

"Same with you," Harry croons. "I've got to get to bed, but I'll see you tomorrow night, yeah?"

"Yeah, I'll see you then, Harry."

"Goodnight, Carter."

"Goodnight."

We disconnect the call, and I rest my phone on my sternum as I stare up at the ceiling again. I'm glad that I found it in myself to finally agree to go to his party, however, I'm just hoping that it's everything he wants. I would hate for Gwen to completely change her tune come tomorrow, and go off on Harry for having me there. I'd feel so guilty.

I push myself off the couch to head back over to my desk, and I hesitantly pull out one of the sketches I've been working on here and there lately. My fingertips brush over the paper as I stare down at the design, and I pick up my pencil to continue adding to it.

It was the heart that Harry had said he wanted after the wedding was over. The anatomical heart.

I haven't told him that I was working on this. I was hoping that I could surprise him with it once their honeymoon was over, and have it be part of a secret wedding gift.

After a couple more hours, I had put Harry's sketch away for later, and I finished up on the two that I had been working on for my clients. I store them away properly to take back to the shop tomorrow, and I head to bed - willing away the anxiousness as to what tomorrow could bring.

⋆★★⋆

I've probably changed my outfit at least ten times now, but I think I finally decided on the one I was going to wear tonight.

Standing in front of my full length mirror, I nibble on my thumbnail as I take in my appearance. I've settled on an off the shoulder flowy white top with bell sleeves, and a pair of dark brown trousers that were a bit cropped at the bottom, so I rolled them up a little more. It looked formal enough, but was still casual so it didn't look like I was trying too hard.

I straightened my hair for the first time in a while, and I also put on a little more makeup than usual. It had been a while since I had gone out at all, so I was planning on making the most of it.

Catching sight of the clock out of the corner of my eye, I realize it's half past ten. "Shit," I hiss, quickly turning to dig through my shoes in my closet to find a pair.

I decide on a pair of all white platform Vans authentics, pulling them on quickly before grabbing my jacket and my purse - throwing them onto my body as well. Racing out of my apartment, I turn around to lock it up as fast as possible before I'm heading down the street.

Thankfully it hasn't gotten too cold yet given that it's early November, but today is a bit windy, and it's drizzling - it definitely makes it feel cooler than it is. I pull my hood over my head and shove my hands into my pockets to keep them warm, although I won't be walking very far.

I had tried all day at work to keep my nerves at bay, and thankfully I had a day packed with clients so I was able to keep tonight off of my mind for the most part. This was the first time Harry and I would be around each other without my mother or Gwen watching our every move, and I hope that we can fall back into the same routine.

I just have to make sure that I remember to keep that barrier up between us.

My thumbnail swipes across my cuticle in my pocket as I walk, and I'm nibbling on my lower lip out of stress. I just don't want Harry's night to get ruined because of me coming. I'd feel so awful, and guilty if that were to happen. I just have to hope that Gwen really does stick to her word, and that she won't make a big deal about me coming.

I approach the bar and pull the door open, immediately putting my hood down as I step into the main area. My eyes search over the crowd to spot Harry, Gavin or Lance, but I'm having no such luck. There's a couple different rooms to this bar, so I'm guessing they must be in one of those that's off the side of the main room. I turn my body to make my way through the mass of people, heading towards the room to the left first as I know that's where the dart boards are, as well as the pool tables.

Finally I make my way into the new area, and I catch sight of Gavin. He's facing my direction, and I see a large smile appear on his face once we make eye contact. "Carter!"

Harry's back is to me, and he immediately whips his head around. He sends me the boyish grin that I'm so familiar with - causing my heart to flutter. There's still a good amount of people between myself and the table they've seemed to take over, but I notice that Lance is starting to make his way through the crowd to me.

"No fucking way," he chuckles as he throws his arms around me.

I laugh as I wrap my arms around him as well. "I haven't seen you in forever!"

Soon Gavin appears beside him, and I give him a large hug before we head towards the table to join Harry and his friends from Holmes Chapel - Lance's arm around my shoulders. I send a soft smile over to Harry's friends as I shrug my jacket off. I place my purse onto the table as Gavin takes my jacket, and I see he puts it on the back of the barstool with his own.

I've yet to look over at Harry since I've gotten to the table, and it's mostly because I noticed how good he looks as soon as I set my eyes on him. He's wearing a rainbow striped shirt with a pair of light washed blue jeans that are flared. Looking down at our feet, I notice that he's also wearing white Vans authentics, and I take in a deep breath - the small coincidence having me feel a certain way.

"What do you want to drink, Carter? I was just going to get a round," Lance says, and I purse my lips as I stand on my tiptoes to peer over his shoulder so I can see the beer taps.

"I'll just take a Modelo for now, please," I respond, and he gives me a nod before heading towards the bar.

I figure it's best to stick to beer for my main drink since I'm sure we'll be doing plenty of shots, and I tend to last longer on these kinds of nights if I choose not to drink a cocktail in between.

"Hey," I hear Harry's voice, and I finally look up to meet his sage eyes. "I thought you maybe weren't going to show for a second there."

He laughs softly, and I shake my head. "I told you I wanted to be here for you. I wouldn't miss this after telling you I'd be here. Time just got away from me a little bit."

He nods before stepping forward to wrap his arms around me. I close my eyes and sigh softly as I nuzzle my face into his chest. My arms find their way around his waist like normal, and I can feel his cheek pressing to the top of my head. I hate how at peace I feel when I'm in his embrace like this. We haven't hugged like this since the engagement party, and it's almost embarrassing how much I've missed it.

"Oh, I'm being so rude," I hear Harry say as we pull apart, but he keeps one of his arms around my torso as he turns us to face his two friends that I've yet to meet. "Carter, this is Ross and Shane, my friends from back home that I was telling you about."

"Hi, it's so nice to meet you," I tell them, reaching one my hands out to give them each a proper greeting.

"It's nice to finally meet the infamous Carter," I hear Ross say, and I feel heat rising in my cheeks. "Felt like I already had, especially in the college years since you're all this one wanted to talk about."

He points his finger at Harry as he speaks, and I look up to see Harry blushing as well. "I talked about other things," he tries to say, but I hear Shane scoff as well.

"Yeah, okay," he says jokingly. "We both know that's a lie."

We're interrupted by Lance coming back with a tray of drinks - passing them out to each of us just as we ordered. I see that there's six shots in the middle of the tray as well and he nods to them. "Everyone grab a shot," he says before looking over at me. "We were waiting until you were here to get the first round of them."

"You guys didn't need to do that," I say, but I'm still smiling at the kind gesture. "Thank you though."

"It wasn't complete without you here," Harry shrugs as he holds my eyes - both of us with a shot glass in hand.

I don't know what to say back, and I'm fortunate that Gavin begins to speak. "Shots in the air everyone! Cheers to Harry's last big night out as a bachelor!"

We all cheers our shots together following by tapping them on the table below before tipping them back to our mouths. I wince as the liquor coats my tongue, and I swallow quickly to get the taste away as quickly as possible while reaching out for my beer. I gulp down a few good sips of it before the taste seems to dull.

"How out of commission are you, Carter? You used to drink those shots like they were water," Lance comments, and I reach my hand out to press against his cheek - pushing his face away.

"I'll leave right now if you're not nice to me," I threaten, and Harry is quick to gasp.

"Absolutely not," he says and I feel his arm snake around my waist before he's pulling me into his side. "Stop bullying Carter. She can't leave."

I stick my tongue out playfully at Lance as I curl into Harry's side, holding the pint glass in both of my hands. Gavin rolls his eyes at us before speaking.

"Here we go," he shakes his head. "Just like old times - no one fuck with Carter or else you're going to deal with Harry."

"Damn fucking straight," Harry says, holding his own beer towards me, and I smirk before tapping my glass against his.

We each take another sip of our drinks, and I notice that Harry hasn't made any movement to remove his arm from around my waist. I glance down to my side where his fingers are resting - watching as they slightly curl around my hip as he starts talking to both Ross and Shane.

I can feel a shiver run up my spine at the sensation it brings as his thumb glides over my hip bone, causing me to suck in a deep breath through my nose. This touch wasn't something out of the ordinary for us, but I had gone months without having this sort of contact with him. The absence of it was causing this moment to feel bigger than it was, and I was cursing myself internally for the way it was affecting me.

Every part of me is telling me to move away, and to let his arm fall back by his side, but I can't. It's so selfish, and I know it means way more to me to have him hold me like this. I just keep remembering that this is probably it. So, I'll take a bit of Kieran's advice for tonight, and I'll be a little selfish.

Without trying to think too much into it, I curl into Harry's side even more as I take another sip of my beer as I keep my eyes on both Ross and Shane. They're talking about how Harry is planning a trip to come to Holmes Chapel a few months after the wedding, and I find myself cringing when they bring up Gwen going with him as well. The mention of her name almost has me pulling away from Harry, but I remain.

As Harry is talking to Ross and Shane, I'm keeping up the conversation with both Gavin and Lance. I hadn't seen them in a few years, so it was nice to know what they had been up to since the last time we saw each other.

"Okay, let's take a group photo here at the table, and then there's a photo booth near the pool tables that we can take pictures in too," Lance says as he puts some of our beer glasses together onto the table to create a makeshift phone stand before doing a self-timer.

We step back from the table a bit so that we're all in the frame, and as much as I hate it, I make it a point to stand between Gavin and Lance instead of standing next to Harry. I know this photo will end up on social media, and I know that Gwen would probably blow Harry's phone up if she saw us standing in the photo next to each other.

Once we click a few pictures on Lance's phone, we gather our stuff and head over to the pool tables as the guys are talking about playing a few games. The first game was Ross and Shane against Gavin and Lance, so Harry and I stood against the wall as we sipped our beers. I was almost out, and so was he.

"Do you want me to grab you another?" I ask, looking up at him with the inside of my cheek between my teeth.

"Yeah, in a minute. Do you want to go in the photo booth? We can snap some pictures just the two of us before we take the group ones," Harry suggests, pointing over to it. "And then we can get another round."

I smile up at him, finishing up the rest of my beer as we place our empty glasses down onto the table that was near us. "That sounds like a good plan."

Harry places his hand on my lower back as we maneuver through the people to get to the photo booth, and then we step inside. I raise my eyebrows when I realize it's larger than your typical one, but you stand instead of sitting down. I watch as Harry swipes his card to start the machine, and then he goes to adjust the camera.

"Well good thing I wore my platforms today," I joke as he tries to get the right angle to get both of us since I come up just short of his shoulder. "This would be a much worse situation if I hadn't."

Harry chuckles as he gets the camera into a good spot, and then he presses the start button. I move closer to his side as I feel his arm wrap around me. Just before the first picture clicks, Harry pulls me closer and lifts me off the ground so that I'm in the frame better.

I let out a squeal as I was caught completely off guard, and I'm quick to wrap my arms around his neck. He looks up at me, his bunny teeth on full display as he breaks out into a fit of laughter. I'm looking down at him with wide eyes, and soon I'm laughing right along with him as the next picture snaps.

"Wait, hold on, let me get on your back," I state, and he puts me down quickly so I can get behind him.

With my hands securely on his shoulders, he bends down and I straddle his lower back. He lifts up while I lean my head down so my face is right next to his - cheeks pressed together. We're still dying down from our giggles as the next picture goes off. I get a little brave, and I move my hands down from his shoulders to where my hands are now pressed to the center of his chest.

Harry pulls his cheek away from mine to look up at me, and he's still wearing a big smile as we're staring into each other's eyes. At this moment, I've forgotten all about the fact that we're taking pictures. I'm so drawn in by the look that he's giving me with that expression on his face - my pulse quickening just by looking at him.

The final picture snaps, and the flash draws us both of the trance we seemed to have been in. He lowers me to the ground carefully, but instead of letting me walk away, Harry places both of his hands on my hips as he continues to stare down at me.

"I'm really happy that you came, Carter," there's such sincerity to his voice, and I can tell he means every word as he speaks them. "It just feels right having you here. It's like everything about the night is complete."

Lifting a hand up, I do what I've always done. It was a habit I told myself to break, but tonight I choose to break that rule instead. I run my fingers through the front of his curls to move them off his forehead as I tilt my head to the side.

"I'm happy I came too, H. It's been really nice so far."

We move out of the photo booth to collect our photos from the drop, and we're immediately laughing over them. There's two copies so we each take one. I'm quick to put mine into my purse so I don't misplace it, and Harry puts his in the inner pocket of his jacket.

"Another beer?" I ask him with raised eyebrows, and he nods as we begin to head towards the bar.

Once we're at the bar, I feel Harry hook his index and middle finger into one of my belt loops, and I look down at them for a moment. This was something he picked up on doing when we were in college so that we wouldn't lose each other in large crowds, and the longer we've been at this bar tonight the larger the crowd has grown.

The bartender comes over, and I'm quick to lean forward against the surface so he can hear me over both the music, and the voices. I order Harry and I another round of beers as well as a round of shots for our group. I back off the bar a bit as I look over to Harry, and I can see that he's just staring at me with an unreadable expression.

"What?" I laugh, biting down on my bottom lip.

He shakes his head, but he doesn't make any signs of looking away. "Nothing. Just..."

Harry trails off, and I tilt my head to the side. "Just?"

I may be mistaken, but it's almost like I feel Harry's fingers closing down even more around my belt loop, as if he wants to pull me closer, but we're interrupted by a call of my name.

Looking over my shoulder, I'm met with Duncan and a few of the other guys from the shop. "Oh my god, hi," I pull away from Harry as I walk over to them, giving each of them a hug. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Just stopping by for a couple of beers after a show we were at," Duncan says. "How about you?"

"Oh, I'm here for Harry's bachelor party," I say, stepping back to place my hand between Harry's shoulder blades. "You guys remember him, right? I've tattooed him a few times."

Duncan nods and steps forward, extending his hand out to Harry. "Yeah, I remember," he nods. "Nice to see you again, and congratulations on the wedding."

"Thanks, mate," Harry shakes Duncan's hand, giving a small wave to the other guys as well.

"I've got your next round of shots, alright?" Duncan asks.

"Oh, we just ordered-"

"I'll tell them to put it on my tab, and just tell them Duncan has it covered the next time you order some," Duncan interrupts me, and I smile.

"Thank you," Harry speaks up. "You didn't have to do that."

"Not a problem, man. Enjoy your night."

Duncan and the guys head off just as the bartender places our beers down, as well as a small tray with the shots on it. I pull my card out of my pocket so that I can properly start a tab for myself, and the bartender takes it - telling me they'll give it right back.

"No Alfie tonight?" Harry asks, and I let out a hefty sigh.

"He's closing up the shop. We stay open until midnight on the weekends for piercings" I state, already chugging down a few sips of beer. "And I've told you, Harry, it's not like that."

I hardly hear Harry's hum in response due to the volume around us, but I still pick up on it. The bartender comes back over to return my card, and I thank them as I grab the tray of shots while Harry takes my beer for me.

We walk back over to the other guys while Harry's chest is practically pressing against my back. He's not able to grab me in any way since both of his hands are full, so I know he's trying to keep as close as possible.

"Here we go guys!" I announce as I set the tray down on the table.

Just like before, we each take a shot and down them before the others return to their game.

I prop myself up onto the high bar stool that was by our table, and Harry drapes his arm across the back of it. "Carter."

Looking away from the intense game of pool between our friends, I look up into his eyes. "Yes?"

"Thank you for being my best friend," he exhales before running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "I don't know what I would've done without you these past few years."

I set my beer down on the table and place my hands on his shoulders. "I don't know how I possibly would've survived without you, Harry. I'm so grateful for you."

The corner of Harry's lips twitch into a soft smile, but it doesn't meet his eyes.

"Hey, you two!" Gavin's voice sounds off, and I drop my hands away from Harry as I look over for him. "Shane and Ross lost, so it's the two of you against us."

"Do I have to?" I groan, pushing myself off my bar stool.

"Yeah, does she have to? You guys know she sucks at pool," Harry says as he walks behind me, and I turn around to slap the back of my hand against his chest.

"Don't be a fucking dick."

Harry chuckles as we approach the table, and we each take a pool cue. "You guys will give us some slack since it's my bachelor party, right?"

Lance rolls his eyes. "Yeah, sure...absolutely not."

I giggle at this answer as I hold my pool cue to my chest.

Tonight feels like old times, and I don't think that I realized I missed it as much as I do until just now.

⋆★★⋆

"See you guys in a few weeks!" I call out after Gavin and Lance as they head down the street towards the hotel they had booked not too far away from the bar.

Shane and Ross had left about an hour ago, both jetlagged from the flight as they just got in today. They would be staying here until the wedding, but they were going to be doing some traveling in our surrounding states since it was their first time in the US.

Harry and I now stand together outside of the building, and I look up to see him with a concerned look on his face as he stares down at his phone.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Ubers are so fucking expensive right now. The surge has the price way up there. It's almost 70 dollars for me to get home," he shakes his head. "Let me check Lyft."

I stay quiet as he does so, and he huffs out a groan. "Almost the same price."

Pursing my lips to the side, I choose my next words very carefully. "Well...how about you come back to mine? You can hang out until the surge ends, or you can stay the night. I don't care either way."

Harry looks over at me for a moment before he shakes his head. "I wouldn't want to impose."

"Oh, fuck off with that," I say, hooking one of my arms around his. "It's not imposing when you're my best friend. Now put your phone away and let's walk."

We start down the sidewalk, and I'm starting to feel the effects of the liquor I've drank tonight. I wasn't obliterated by any means, but I was definitely feeling the alcohol. Harry tucks his phone into his pocket, and he keeps me close as we walk.

"Did you have fun tonight?" I ask, resting my cheek against his bicep.

"I did. It was all I could've asked for, really. How about you?"

I nod in response. "I think I probably had the best time I've had in a while with everyone tonight. It's so wild to me that Lance and Grace are having a baby."

"Oh my god, I know," Harry gasps. "We make some pretty good matchmakers, huh?"

I giggle at his statement, curling more into him due to the harsh winds. "We really do."

Harry and I had set Grace and Lance up together during our final year of college. We knew they both were attracted to each other, but neither of them would make the first move. We took it upon ourselves to plan a hangout with just the four of us without telling them. At first Grace and Lance were a bit irritated, but after an hour of us all talking, it was like we had all known each other forever.

"I would say maybe I'm a little better though," I blurt out, squeezing Harry's arm into my chest. "I set you and Gwen up too technically."

It's quiet between us for a few moments before Harry speaks. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

We walk into the building of my apartment, and once we approach my door I unlock it. We head inside, both of us toeing off our shoes and shedding our jackets. "Did you want anything else to drink? I have some tequila."

"Yeah, bring the bottle over to the couch. We can just take turns swigging from it - if that's okay with you," Harry says, and I nod.

Harry plops down onto my couch, and I can see that he's manspreading out of the corner of my eye. I let my eyes dwell for just a moment before I look away - heading into the kitchen. I push onto my tiptoes to grab my bottle of tequila off the top of the fridge, and then I fill up two glasses with water. I skillfully tuck the tequila under my arm so I can bring everything over to the couch without catastrophe, and I thankfully succeed.

Smiling at Harry, I put both waters down on the coffee table with the bottle of tequila in the middle. I collapse onto the couch beside him, and I look over to him with what I know is a drunken smile on my face.

"You should just stay the night," I tell him. "Like old times. One last old time, yeah?"

If I wasn't mistaken, I see something almost resembling pain when I speak those words, but Harry quickly covers it up. "Okay, yeah, I'll stay."

"I can take the couch if you want to take my-"

"I'm not taking your bed, Carter," Harry shakes his head as he reaches out to grab his glass of water. He gulps down half of it before setting it back down. "The couch is just fine. I've spent plenty of nights on it already."

"I know," I sigh, closing my eyes for a moment. "It's just...this is your night. I want it to be perfect for you."

The feeling of Harry's hand on my thighs forces me to become more aware, and I open my eyes to look over to him. "It's already been the most perfect night, I promise."

I hum as I look at him. "Well, I'm glad, H. You deserve it."

Sitting up on the couch better, I go to reach out for the tequila bottle at the same time as Harry, and we both break into a fit of giggles. "You do it," he instructs me.

I grab the bottle and pull out the cork before I shuffle onto my knees on the couch. I move closer to him, and I just let my body and mind do what they want for once when it comes to Harry these days. My hand wraps around the back of his neck, and I tilt my chin up.

"Head back," I move my torso so I'm practically hovering over him. "I'll pour it."

Harry keeps his eyes on mine as he does what I've asked. He parts his lips, and I tilt the tequila bottle so the liquor starts to drip into his mouth. I count slowly to five before I stop, but Harry is quick to swallow it all down.

"That's it?"

I roll my eyes playfully, and he snatches the bottle from me. "Your turn then."

My heart skips a bit as I lower my ass down onto the heels of my feet, and Harry moves around so he's over me just a bit. I open my mouth just as he did before I start to taste the tequila against my tongue. I breathe through my nose as the alcohol fills up, and once he stops, I swallow immediately. Groaning, I grab my water to chase it - shaking my head.

"This game sucks, why did I start it?" I choke out, and Harry lets out a loud laugh.

"It's not a game, flower," Harry sets the tequila bottle down. "We're just drinking."

Flower.

It's been years since he's called me that, and I'd honestly forgotten that he ever had. I don't dwell on it though - mostly due to my slightly intoxicated state.

"Can't believe you ever got me into tequila like this," I scold him, although I'm fully teasing. "You're my reason for many, many hangovers, Harry."

Harry reaches out and tugs at my septum piercing. "You love it, don't fucking lie."

I gasp at him, and I push back up onto my knees. "That's not fair. You don't have any piercings for me to get you back."

My eyes trace over his frame, and I smirk as I reach forward. I go to clamp my fingertips down around each of his nipples, but Harry's hands wrap around my wrists in an instant. I let out a yelp of surprise as he pulls them into his chest, and he shakes his head.

"You had four options for that, and you went with the main two? Playing it safe?"

I giggle, going to answer him, but I feel my nose knock against his as I tilt my head up to do so. I didn't realize just how close we were at the moment.

The alcohol is causing my head to swim, and I may be interpreting this all wrong, but I feel him lean in at the same time as me as we keep our sights on each other's eyes.

The next thing I know, our lips are connecting in a soft kiss.

There's a tingle that starts to evolve throughout my body as we keep the small connection - neither one of us really moving. We pull away, and the sound of our wet lips parting fills the room. I flutter my eyes open to look at Harry once again.

Opening my mouth, I go to apologize before I feel Harry's lips on mine once more, and as it deepens, his hands slide down to my forearms until they're dropping to my waist.

He hauls me into his lap, and soon the noises of our lips and tongues clashing against each other is all that bounces off the walls. I can feel my tongue ring rolling along the roof of his mouth as I tangle both sets of my fingers into the back of his curls. Our chests are flush together, and as much as I know this is wrong, the only thing I can think about at the moment is him.

The interaction becomes heated in just a few seconds, and I can feel Harry's fingertips digging into the small of my back from where my top has ridden up. I pull back as he ghosts his hand towards my stomach until he reaches the hem of my shirt. His eyes hold mine as if he's asking for permission, and I give him a nod. My arms raise above my head as he starts to lift my top off my body. He tosses it to the side, leaving me in my strapless bra as I tighten my thighs against his.

"Are you okay?" I ask, my chest heaving.

Harry's eyes look up from the revealed skin to look at my face, and he quickly nods. "Yeah, this is more than okay."

One of his large hands cups my face while the other drops to my thigh, and he pulls me down to connect our lips once more. His thumb swipes over my cheekbone as our tongues glide together.

My mind is absolutely racing, and as chaotic as it feels, I can only focus on how exactly I'm feeling. The one thing that I've wanted for so long is actually happening.

I feel Harry's hands all over me it seems. He caresses my body, treasuring it like I always knew that he would. I moan as I feel his palms encasing my covered breasts - resulting in me rolling my hips against his.

I tilt my head back with a gasp as Harry's lips trail down my jawline, and then my neck. His teeth nip at my collarbone before he works his way back up the side of my neck he didn't tend to before - lips journeying to find mine again.

Harry sucks my bottom lip between the two of his, and I moan. My eyes roll into the back of my head as I grip to his shoulders with an arched back.

"Harry," I whimper, his name muffled as he grazes his teeth along my tongue.

He soon runs his own tongue over mine to soothe the ache, and I can feel his bulge growing against my inner thigh. I trail my hands down his clothed stomach until my fingers grip to the hem of his shirt. He mimics my actions from before with his arms in the air, and I pull his shirt up and off his frame. I look down as I feel my palms in contact with muscles - my hands covering his defined abs.

"Holy shit," I'm dumbfounded at just how fit Harry has gotten. It's been years since I've seen him without a shirt, and even though he's always been very toned, this was another level.

His butterfly tattoo now accentuated his chiseled abs, and I could see the tips of the ferns peeking over the waistband of his jeans - his hips narrowing down into a 'v' shape below the denim. My hands can't stop smoothing across his torso, and I lean forward to have my lips mold against his.

As time goes on, the more I can feel my body heating up, and I want more.

I rock my hips against Harry's with more force, and a groan rattles within him that I feel vibrating back against my hands that are resting on his toned chest.

My lips venture away from his as I begin to tend to the skin of his neck like he did for me - his hands now securely on my hips as he keeps guiding me to grind on him.

"Oh, fuck," Harry moans before I begin to kiss him again.

My hands slide down to his jeans, and I undo the button and pull down his zipper as I lightly suck on the hinge of his jaw.

"That's it," he breathes. "Just like that, Gwen."

My movements cease, and it's like time completely stills as the name that isn't mine leaves his mouth.

I immediately feel tears burning in my eyes as I lift myself up to look at his face - his eyes still closed. After a moment, Harry flutters his eyes open, and he looks at me with confusion before I see the realization take over.

"Carter, I-"

"No, no," I shake my head, climbing off his lap, running a hand through my hair as I search for my shirt. I locate it and tug it over back onto my body as I wrap my arms around myself. "We shouldn't have done this anyway. That...we should just talk about it in the morning when we're sober."

"I didn't mean to, please, I don't want you to go to bed angry at me," Harry goes to reach out for me, but I move even further away.

"I'm telling you, Harry, the conversation needs to happen when we're both in a better state of mind," I tell him. "You know where everything is to get yourself situated."

Racing into my bedroom, I shut the door and press my back against it as I try to catch my breath. I can feel the tears streaming down my cheeks, and I give it a moment so I can gather myself before I walk into my ensuite. I've never been more thankful for having a full bathroom in my actual room until this moment.

I strip my clothes off after turning the shower on, and once the water is scalding hot, I step underneath it. I let it wash over me as I cover my face with my hands - reflecting on what just happened.

I just made out with Harry. My best friend. My sister's fiancé. The man I'm truly in love with, but he doesn't even know. The man who doesn't love me back in that same way.

Gasping to catch my breath due to how overwhelmed I was getting, I reach out to grab the bar of soap, and I start to lather my body. I continue to rub the bar over my skin again and again until I'm starting to truly scrub.

What Harry and I did just now was so wrong, and I need to scrub his touch off of me.

I exit the shower with bright red skin, and I change into my pajamas before I begin to brush my teeth. I stare at myself in the mirror as I do so - pressing a little harder tonight against my gums than I usually do.

His taste is still on me, and I need to rid myself of it.

Once I finish up in the bathroom, I collapse into my bed. I pull the covers completely over my body to hide myself away. As much as I don't feel like I could get sleep after what just happened, I know the alcohol is playing a factor into me feeling tired, and I drift off to sleep.

⋆★★⋆

The next morning, I'm woken up by a muffled voice outside of my bedroom door. I groan as I glance at my phone on the nightstand, and I see it's only a little past ten in the morning. Slipping out from under the covers, I rub my palm into one of my eyes as I open the bedroom door. I recognize the voice as Harry's, and I can tell that he's on the phone with someone.

"I was at Carter's, Gwen. I was going to get an Uber but they were super expensive, and I had one too many drinks at the pub and couldn't drive. I-"

I knew how Gwen could be if she was accusing you of something. I knew that's what she was doing to Harry right now.

She hardly allowed you to speak. It's been that way my whole life. Whether she was trying to say I took a shirt from her closet, or that I misplaced her favorite lipstick - she would always get out what she wanted to say first before hearing anything else.

"You don't believe that I'm actually here at her place right now? Do you want me to go and wake her up because I can? Where else would I-"

I can now hear Harry shuffling around my living room which makes it a little harder to hear the conversation. I'm sure he's trying to gather his things.

"Yeah, I'm about to leave right now. I'll take an Uber back to my car. I'll see you soon."

I give it a few more seconds before I make my presence completely known, and I walk out into the living room to see Harry already by my door - slipping into his shoes.

"Are you already-"

Harry cuts me off before I can even finish my sentence. "I'm sorry, I have to go. Gwen is pissed, and she's not going to hear me out until we're face to face."

I look down at my hands at I fiddle with my fingers, brushing my thumbnail against my cuticle out of a nervous habit. "I was going to fix us breakfast, and then I was going to drive you back to your car at the bar."

"I appreciate that, Carter, but I can't stay. I'll...I'll talk to you later."

I look up just in time as Harry slips out the door, and I feel my heart sink into my stomach.

He didn't even look at me once before he left.

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry edward styles #harry styles ff

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braxiatel · 3 months

Text

You know that “if it were a drawing I would call it a doodle or a sketch” incomplete fic I posted a while back?

Well here’s another from a few months ago.

Mumscarian (shocking, I know) hunger games au except instead of being told from the POV of someone in the hunger games it’s told by someone they left behind.

Content warnings are all similar in style and detail to the hunger games books, anx include injury (with specific mention of broken bones, spinal injuries, eye injuries, burns), references to genocide, displacement, and loss of a parental figure. Child- and animal endangerment, dissociation, non consensual body modifications, and possibly more that I cannot recall at this moment. Proceed with caution.

———

Cats have healing powers.

Scar was the one who told him that, on a cold winter’s day in front of the fire. Had it really only been months? It felt so much longer…

Something about their purring, Scar had said. He had been more specific than that, but Mumbo’s head was somewhat hazy at the moment.

But the purring healed you, Mumbo could remember as much.

Still, he was pretty sure Jellie alone wasn’t going to get him out of this one, not for lack of trying.

It was her fault he was here anyway.

… No, that wasn’t true. He would have said as much to himself if not for the fact that even moving his lips to take in gasping breaths was agony.

They had been warned before the bombs started to drop. There has been time to run, Pearl’s hand in his so they did not lose each other in the crowd.

Until he saw a woman carrying a goat in her arms and remembered-

“I have to go back,” he panted through strained breaths - he was nowhere near as fit as Pearl, who had been washing the coal-smeared clothes of half the Seam since age eleven to make ends meet.

“What?!” Pearl asked, continuing to pull him towards the hovercraft that was waiting on the green. “Mumbo if we stay we’re going to die. Whatever you forgot it isn’t more important than your life, if can be replaced, I promise. Just-”

“Jellie,” he interrupted her. “We forgot Jellie.”

Pearl’s grip slackened. The crowd kept moving around them, indistinct bodies pushing them forward and together.

“It will break Scar if he comes home and finds out she’s gone. I’ll just… two minutes, okay? I’ll be two minutes. I’ll go to his house and if she isn’t home I’m leaving without her. I just have to try.”

Pearl had looked as though she wanted to argue. She was practical though, in the same way Grian was, in the same way every child that grew up in the Seam was

“No sense in wasting time then. Go. Two minutes, Mumbo, and no more.”

Jellie continued to purr in his arms, unaware of the danger they were still in.

Suppose he had fancied himself a romantic, running back into a doomed town to save his sort-of-boyfriend’s cat.

Grian would laugh and call him an idiot… or he would have once. Grian didn’t do a great deal of laughing these days.

Mumbo could taste blood on his tongue. He wondered if any of the animals that lived in the forests beyond District 12 could smell it, if at any moment a mountain lion might finish him off, defenceless as he was.

He wondered if any of the animals were even still alive.

There had been blood on his tongue the day it started too.

His father - his adopted father that was - always chided him for the habit of biting on his cheek when he was nervous. But not today. Xisuma may have been smiling under his breather, but the Mayor of 12 was anything but calm. Wishing that another boy - any other than Mumbo - would be the one whose name was drawn today, did not sit well with Mayor Xisuma, who had been appointed to keep the citizens of 12 in line and dedicated himself to keeping them safe instead.

Today Mumbo bit his cheek, lined up with every other boy age twelve to eighteen in the district.

Well, almost. Scar had offered him a wink from the line of girls, standing out like a sore thumb in his trousers and the white shirt that had long ago been tainted a greyish brown by wear.

Although Scar was only a little more than a year older than Mumbo, he had been towards the back with the other seventeen-year-olds, while Mumbo was perfectly in the middle, still two weeks shy of sixteen.

“You look as if you’re about to implode from sheer stress,” a familiar voice has said from behind him.

Mumbo couldn’t remember what he had replied anymore, but he did recall how the hints of blonde in Grian’s hair had stood out in the sun that day. Pearl, he knew, always insisted on both of them having a proper bath before the reaping.

They would have shared the same banter they always did. Grian would tease him for being nervous when his name was barely in the draw at all, and Mumbo would mentally assure himself that Grian was right, he was safe.

That had been the day he learned what he should actually have been fearing all along.

The world had stopped turning when Scar’s given name was called out.

It had taken a moment before anyone had recognised it, it had been years since he used it last after all.

“I prefer Scar, actually,” he had corrected, stepping out of the lineup with a smile on his face.

Scar’s nose wrinkled when he smiled and meant it. Mumbo had admired it a thousand times in breaks between lessons and walking home through the Merchant’s section of the district, had tasted it on his lips far too few times for Scar to go off to his death now.

Grian’s hand was a steadying presence on Mumbo’s back for only a moment before the next name was called.

“Grian Xelqua.”

This time the world had stopped spinning altogether. In Mumbo’s memory it did anyway.

His next real memory was sitting opposite Grian, in a room adjacent to his father’s office, babbling about making sure Pearl wouldn’t be left alone through sobs.

He had felt so awful about those tears. There he was, crying about the prospect of losing Grian and Scar, when his best friend and his boyfriend were both about to leave to die horribly in the Hunger Games.

He had only been given a moment with Grian before Pearl arrived. Even thinking about the look on her face as she went to tell her twin goodbye still chilled Mumbo to the bone.

Next, he had guided to see Scar, the seat still warm from Cub having sat there only moments ago.

Most people would have put Cub’s quick departure down to the fact that he and Scar were cousins so many times removed they were only barely more related than anyone else in the Merchant’s section.

Mumbo knew the truth to be something else entirely. Cub was a man of few words and a practical one at that. In the coming weeks, many would look sideways at his apothecary as it continued to be open even as Scar fought for his life in the games. Mumbo understood, though, and so did Scar.

“I love you,” it had been the first time either of them had said it, their romance still new. Now Scar spoke the words carefully, stroking Mumbo’s tear-stained cheek before he continued to add: “But when I leave this building I am going to have to forget that, and I want you to do the same. I love you, Mumbo, and that’s why I’m going to make sure you don’t lose both of us.”

At the time he hadn’t thought he would ever know greater pain than having to hide his feelings away, watching Scar use his golden tongue to charm the masses of the Capitol, convincing them of his undying devotion towards Grian, never once mentioning Mumbo in all of his interviews.

He was certainly in more pain now... Mumbo had always been a bit of a spoon, though, so it was no wonder he was wrong about that too.

Jellie crooned in his arms and Mumbo forced his right eye open - the left remaining stuck shut just as it had since the fire had licked across his skin.

Jellie’s fur may be a little singed, but Mumbo’s blood had put any fires that had touched her out. He almost wanted to laugh at that, but his lungs were stinging from the smoke and the ash in the air and it was all he could do not to choke on it.

Above the chasm he was lying in the wind blew harshly, stoking the fires consuming the forest around him.

It was definitely ironic that he should die this way. For months now he had had nightmares of flames, ever since that fateful day when the 74th Hunger Games had ended.

Grian had all but dragged Scar through the forests, Scar’s left leg trailing after him like deadweight and his right barely able to support him, fire chasing them ever forward.

Mumbo had been sick three times that day. When the fire started, again when a dagger was wedged into Grian’s right eye, and finally when the game makers had announced that Grian and Scar could not win together after all.

He had missed the part where they took each other’s hands and walked to the edge of a cliff, ready to throw themselves off together instead of either of them winning alone.

The fire crackled above the chasm again.

“Go,” he hissed through uneasy breaths, nudging Jellie with his shoulders. “Please.”

Scar would be devastated if she were to die this way, and he had only just started smiling again…

Hollow. That was the only word Mumbo had known that might describe Grian and Scar when they returned from the games. Facades, stitched together and polished by the best the Capitol had to offer, the very picture of Capitol beauty with none of what mattered left.

Scar had smiled and joked that hey, at least they had taken the tits while they were rearranging his skin to cover the fact that his leg had been mangled beyond recognition by a trap once meant to hold a fully grown bear. Mumbo had laughed. It hadn’t been funny in the least.

And while the things Scar said rarely failed to make Mumbo feel sick to his stomach, it was Grian’s silence that disturbed him.

That had come to a head one evening when Grian had torn the prosthetic eye from its socket, hurtling it so hard against the marble walls of his house in the victor’s village that the plastic had cracked. A new had arrived within the week.

Mumbo coughed and hacked, pain wracking his body as the smoke clawed on the inside of his throat and his lungs.

Stupid, stupid Mumbo. He had known the chasm was here, he had seen it on his adoptive father’s maps of the district enough time that he should have known to run the other way.

Granted, it had been more than half a year since he had last stepped foot in the mayoral office, when his father had disappeared overnight and his uncle had been put in charge of District 12 in his stead.

Xisuma’s brother had never been fond of either of them, and he paid little mind when Mumbo simply moved into one of the many spare bedrooms in Grian’s house in the Victor’s Village after they returned from their victory tour of Panem.

Officially he had become Cub’s apprentice, the district still needing medicine even though their one apothecary was now living with his cousin-nth-removed in luxury.

Unofficially he and Scar had finally talked again, combing out the tangled knots of their relationship and what it could even be now that Grian and Scar were only alive because of their status as the star-crossed lovers in the eyes of the citizens of the Capitol.

Mumbo loved Scar enough that he did not mind only holding Scar’s hand in private, did not mind how Scar looked at Grian in public view and in quiet moments at home when he thought no one would notice, did not begrudge Scar a single bit of the patience and space he needed before he was ready for Mumbo to kiss him again.

Scar, in turn, had not minded how Grian latched himself to Mumbo, how Mumbo and Grian would share a bed when nightmares kept them awake, and how Mumbo could not help but blush whenever Scar spoke of Grian.

In another world, they might have spent years dancing around the issue before they developed the emotional maturity to recognise that there was love enough between them for all three of them to share.

In this world, however, they were not afforded the luxury of time. It had felt as though Mumbo had only just gotten his two favourite people back, only for it to be announced that in a few months time, he would have to see at least one of them leave again, off to compete in the 75th Hunger Games as the only two living tributes in District 12 apart from Impulse, whose experience as a mentor was the only thing standing between Mumbo and the very real possibility that both of the boys - the men - he loved would return to him in a coffin.

Mumbo sobbed at the thought, then sobbed again when he continued to shake, muscles tensing and untensing around broken bones and ruptured organs as the morning sun rose to greet him, crimson red through the not-so-distant fires consuming his home.

Surely Grian and Scar were dead by now. The games… Mumbo was not politically savvy the way his two partners were, but he knew well enough that they had been supposed to die in the arena.

“Go,” he begged Jellie again, the burns on his face stinging as salty tears ate away at them.

Scar wouldn’t want her dead. Scar wouldn’t want anything, because he was no doubt dead in a box somewhere far, far away in the Capitol, but he wouldn’t have wanted her dead had he been alive.

The fires were close now, the air so thick even Mumbo’s desperate attempts for air seemed to yield none.

No one would miss him.

It hit him just then.

He was going to die, a broken body left to rot or burn in a chasm by a broken District. Grian and Scar would die too, his father had been dead for months. No one would even know that he was gone, just one name on a dizzyingly long list.

Silly, silly Mumbo, running back into a town doomed to burn to save a dead man from a broken heart. Pearl had been right, he shouldn’t have gone back.

Oh, Pearl! She would know he was gone. How had he managed to forget her? He felt he ought to know but his mind was providing nothign but static.

Another pang of guilt. He had promised Grian she wouldn’t be alone once, and now she would, all because he had been too sentimental. Because he had been too slow, clinging tight to Jellie as he watched the hovercrafts take off. Because he had taken a wrong turn, getting himself thrown into this stupid chasm by one of the countless bombs that had devastated the only home he had ever known.

“Go away,” he hissed at Jellie while he still had air left in his lungs to do so. “Shoo.”

Jelliw finally rose from her position at his side, earning herself a wet sob when her fur rubbed against one of Mumbo’s burns.

She yowled back at him, a familiar tone of complaint that most often harbingered-

Mumbo cringed when the first drop of rain hit his ruined skin, but instantly felt a wave of relief as water cooled his burns.

Soon the air was clearing too, his breaths less ragged but just as wet as it travelled through his ruined chest.

His one good eye fixed on Jellie as she sought shelter under an outcropping of rocks, looking expectantly at him, unaware that he couldn’t move to join her.

For now he was enjoying the relief of the rain anyway. His burns cooling, fat drops of rain slipping between his cracked lips to wet his tongue. He was certain he was far too calm when he congratulated himself on the fact he would likely bleed out rather than die of thirst.

Above him the fires hissed and sputtered, and for the first time since the alarms had sounded, he allowed himself to disengage from the situation.

His mind floated to the town he had grown up in. Would any of the Merchant’s Sector still be standing? He very much doubted it, given how long the bombs had continued to shake him to his bones and make his teeth clatter even after his tumble to the bottom of the chasm.

If any parts of the Seam were still standing it would only be because it covered a far larger part of the town than the Merchant’s Sector ever did, most of the houses barely able to withstand normal wind and weather.

Mumbo had called the Victor’s Village home for the past several months, but he found himself hoping it had been destroyed as well. There was nothing left for him there, even if he had held any hope of surviving.

Mumbo opened his eye with a start realisation: he very much did not want to die.

Silly thing to forget, really, but as had been established Mumbo could be rather silly.

He must have been drifting in and out of consciousness, because by now the crackle of the fire had grown distant, leaving a deadly quiet in its wake. The rain had stopped, and the clouds cleared enough to allow him to see the last rays of the setting sun painting the sky bruise purple.

He heaved in fresh air, his whole being shivering and shaking with the cold rain soaking his broken body.

His eye drifted to the side, to where Jellie was lying on her paws, watching him intently. She had a cut on her ear he had not seen through the haze of the smoke, but seemed otherwise unharmed.

Here were his choices:

He could stay where he was, dying of exposure or to his wounds.

Or he could try to move, and at least die somewhere slightly more dry and comfortable.

The choice would have been easy to Grian and Scar, he thought. Grian would have clawed his way out of the chasm by now, and not even death could have stopped Scar from holding Jellie in his arms.

To Mumbo it was far from simple.

See, Mumbo didn’t want to die, but he very much didn’t want to be in pain either and he had a feeling moving would hurt a great deal.

His mind was hazy, something that had been vivid earlier unclear to him now. Why did the thought of Grian and Scar make his eyes sting with sticky tears?

He didn’t want to leave them…

With a sob Mumbo realised he really had no choice at all.

“Jellie?” he asked. “Get Scar, won’t you? I need you to get him… I need you to get Scar so that he’s here when this is over.”

Jellie for her part stood and stretched, and that was enough to convince him that somehow the cat had understood his pleas.

Okay. This was it…

He flexed his toes but otherwise had no luck kicking against the ground.

No other thing for it, then…

If pain had weight the one that hit him must be hundreds of tons.

His lungs screamed for air, seizing as he dragged himself one little bit forward. The bone clicked in his arm, but far worse was the white-hot burning radiating through his spine and into his legs.

He wouldn’t have made it much further than half a metre when he collapsed against the wall of the chasm, his ears ringing… or perhaps that was simply the screams echoing through the chasm?

With each thundering beat of his heart panic spread further through his body, seaping into every muscle and every fibre.

“Help,” he called, voice hoarse and throat dry. “It hurts.”

A noise from above his head. A flicker of hope.

The rain had washed the blood from his face, at least enough that he could force his other eye open and locate the source of the sound. Jellie, despite her age, was quite athletic and had made it almost all the way to the top of the chasm.

Well, it wasn’t help, but it was a start, right? Jellie would run home and get Scar, or Grian, or maybe even Xisuma. Someone would find him…

The sun rose and at some point in the night Mumbo had stopped feeling the bite of the cold - in fact the chill dew on his skin was quite refreshing, as was the trickle off water next to his head.

He couldn’t move to drink it all, but with a tilt of his head he was able to gulp some of it down, soothing the dryness in his throat.

The forest was so quiet today. Mumbo had only ventured beyond the fence with Grian and Scar twice in his life, but what he recalled most clearly was how alive it had been compared to the stifling settlement they called home.

There were no birds now, no rustle of the wind in the leaves, not even the distant sound of hares and other small animals skittering through the forest floor.

Mumbo’s stomach churned. Was that roast meat he could smell on the wind? When had he even last had something to eat…?

He wished his clothes were not so heavy. If only they were lighter, he might be able to move and remove his shirt. When had the sun become so warm?

He tilted his head to drink more water, mud and ash sticking to the sides of his mouth.

The moon, too, was warm tonight. Mumbo had never known it to be as much before, but nonetheless, it was even warmer than the sun had been. He felt as though he was burning up.

The stars were so bright, as bright as Mumbo had only ever seen them through his father’s telescope. It had been the nicest thing they owned, the lense scratched but still functional enough that he had been able to look through it and dream himself far away.

They moved oddly, reflecting in the helmet of the person standing at the top of the chasm.

Their language was garbled too. Mumbo never knew there were animals that looked like people in the forest…

He blinked, tilting his head a little for a better look.

The person-animal recoiled and Mumbo wanted to shush it, tell it he grew up sheltered in the Merchant’s Section and had no idea how to harm it even if he wanted to.

It made another garbled sound. Except…

Except…

“-Nd a survivor. I repeat I have found a survivor. Requesting urgent medical attention.”

The person-animal - who may in fact just be a person, come to think of it - climbed down the side of the cave.

First they removed a glove, revealing pale skin, and then their helmet. A cascade of red curls fell out, framing a young woman’s face.

“My name is Gem, Scout for District 13. Can you hear me? Can you tell me your name?”

He blinked, certain he ought to know how to respond to that. His tongue, however, remained unyielding.

“Mumbo! MUMBO! Let me go! I need to see him!”

Mumbo wished he had the energy to turn his head and look up and see the owner of the voice, but he was simply too tired.

“Get him out of here and start working on getting a stretcher down here, I think his spine might be broken,” Gem said over their shoulder. Their tone was far softer when they turned around and spoke to him. “Mumbo? Is that your name? Mumbo, listen to me, you need to hang in there. Whatever you saw during the bombing of 12 could be very valuable to the resistance, so you have to hold on a little bit longer so we can get you to a doctor.”

The bombing of 12…

Mumbo knew he should feel something. Panic, grief, anger, anything at all.

In reality, he just felt tired.

“Grr… ggi,” he tried.

“You want Grian?” Gem asked. “Sure, sure. He’s on his way to the hovercraft and in a moment you will be too. I’m just going to give you something for the pain and the fever, okay?”

Fever? Since when did he have a fever?

A weight on his chest lessened a little, relief flooding through him as the dull throbbing of pain he had been feeling from his everywhere began to subside.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Gem instructed. “You might get a little tired but it’s very important that you don’t fall asleep.”

Mumbo wanted to open his mouth to tell them that of course, he wasn’t going to fall asleep. Instead he blinked and a moment later he was somewhere new. It looked like home, looking like the Market Square, only not at all. The Market Square should be bustling with late afternoon activity, judging by the sun being in the west. The market Square was surrounded by buildings on all sides, whereas this place barely had any rubble worthy of being called ‘walls’.

There was a mask over his face, one that reminded him of his father’s breather, its edges digging into his flesh.

“Let me go this instance or I swear I walk - and don’t think Scar won’t do the same. We both care about him and- Mumbo!”

Grian’s face entered his view. The Capitol liked to style him in a way that made him look older than a mere seventeen, but that was not the reason Mumbo could see no trace of the boy that had once sat next to him in school barely more than a year ago.

His one remaining eye was dark, clouded by unbridled fury.

His gaze softened a little when he sat next to Mumbo.

“Can I touch him?”

Yes, Mumbo wanted to say. His body felt so wrong, cold and hot and numb and aching, all of it all at once. He wanted Grian to hold him, wanted Scar to join in as well. Come to think of it, where was Scar?

“If you’re careful.”

Hold on, that voice was familiar. Cub? Why was Cub here? And where was ‘here’ anyway?

That train of thought died as cold lips pressed against Mumbo’s temple. Odd, Grian normally ran hot.

“Hey.” Another kiss, this time on his forearm of all places. Then again, it was one of the few places that didn’t tingle with pain… “Thought I’d lost you for a moment,” Grian whispered, one of his fingers trailing over the part of Mumbo’s arm he had just kissed.

The world shook, and Mumbo’s body went slack with pain.

“Gently,” Grian hissed over his shoulder. He looked at Mumbo again, and he looked so very human. “Be gentle… Mumbo? Mumbo?! Mumbo, you have to-”

If Grian actually told Mumbo what he wanted him to do, it was lost somewhere between the humming of the world around them and the static in Mumbo’s ears. His eyes had slipped close, and for the first time in days he felt safe to rest.

—

Mumbo was aching.

That was the first thought that crossed his mind. Next was this: he was not at home in the Victor’s Village, nor was he in the small apartment in the Justice Building that had been his childhood home.

The bed was too short for him, the linen too coarse, and most offensive of all there was an incessant beeping next to his right ear.

Heavy footsteps - familiar ones at that - approached and a door swung closed with a whir.

Right. The door opening had woken him in the first place.

He opened his eyes and had to blink when he saw the familiar face of his dead father.

“Xisuma?” he tried to ask, the name muffled by the mask sitting on his face.

“Oh, Mumbo, thank goodness,” his adoptive father said in the same tone as he would normally use when Mumbo came home half an hour late after taking the long way home from school with Grian and Scar. “Grian, he’s awake.”

Mumbo strained his eyes, only barely able to make out the bright red colour of a familiar sweater.

“What?” Grian, too, seemed to just have woken up. “Oh! Mumbo!”

A chair scraped across the floor and a moment later Grian came into view too.

“You’re alive,” Mumbo tried to say, trying to enunciate the words as much as he could with his mouth being as dry as it was.

“We could say the same to you,” Xisuma told him, pushing a lock of hair out of Mumbo’s face just as he had done when Mumbo first came to him at age seven. “I don’t know if you have the worst or the best luck in the world. Falling down a ravine like that, and staying safe from the fires and the bombs. Do you know the scouts only found you because Jellie found them and insisted they follow her? She’s getting a well-deserved rest now, but you’d better thank her when you’re up and about again… or well… Well, yes, when you see her.”

Though his father’s rambling was a comforting background noise Mumbo had missed dearly, one thing stuck out to Mumbo.

The bombs. The fires.

“12 is gone,” he shuddered.

“Some of the people made it out,” Xisuma told him. “The ones smart enough not to go running back after lost pets.”

Oh, had he really done that? Mumbo was certain he must be blushing with sheer embarrassment.

He couldn’t bring himself to regret it, though. Scar would have been devastated if anything had happened to Jellie.

Scar.

The thought struck him and the beeping sound increased.

“Gri?” He asked. “Where’s S…”

Mumbo choked on the words, his throat aching from the smoke he had inhaled and the dry air flowing through the breather covering the lower half of his face.

Grian waited for him to finish coughing, his hand resting on Mumbo’s right arm as a steady presence.

“He’s okay,” Grian told him, though the waver in his voice told Mumbo otherwise. Grian had always been a terrible liar, and Mumbo knew him far too well to believe him.

Judging by Grian’s expression he realised this too.

“He’s alive,” Grian corrected. “The Capitol have him. But we’re already looking into saving him. We’re going to get him back, Mumbo, I swear. You came back and he will too…”

Grian rose to his feet, kissing the same part of Mubmo’s forehead he had earlier.

“I’ll fix it all,” Grian promised him. “The two of us, we’ll find a way to bring him back, even if it means burning the Capitol to the ground.”

#hermitcraft #hermitshipping #mumscarian #mumbo jumbo #GoodTimesWithScar #gtws #Grian #Pearlescentmoon #geminitay #XisumaVoid

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littlejuicebox · 2 months

Text

Midwinter Carol 7 / The Interrogation

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Elf Sorceress OC

Word Count: 2.3K

Story navigation: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Summary/Setting: Based on the prologue/premise from my OneShot "A Midwinter Carol."

Astarion and the OC broke up after his ascension. She left Baldur's Gate for fifteen years, only to return just recently. Following the events of "A Midwinter Carol," Ascended Astarion has been convinced to pursue a new beginning. Will he be able to change who he has become, with the help of his ex-lover? Or will he ultimately fall victim to his pride and desire for power?

Preview:

Another surge of acid through his veins. Another healing potion. The Lord sits quietly next to Ani and watches the slow rise and fall of her breath as if in contemplation. Her fever finally broke not long ago. Her arm is still deteriorating. Astarion leans forward and brings his bloodied, cracked hand to gently stroke her cheek along that tiny patch of vitiligo. And then he lifts two fingers to his lips, kisses them, and presses those fingers against that same spot, thinking about how he used to kiss it morning and night.

Warnings: This will be 18+ / in game spoilers / Eventual Smut / Angst, trauma, fluff / Gore / Violence / PTSD / Astarion's past trauma

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE.

A/N: And here comes AA with some absolutely unhinged behavior.

-----

At first, Astarion hires Delilah for several hours at a time. Typically, a half day, but sometimes more.

It’s always the same experience.

He pays her to morph into a likeness of Eirianwen, based on sketches from the Baldur’s Gate Gazette and his own descriptions. She never gets the vitiligo quite right, but the Ascendant, in his desperation, will take what he can get.

In the beginning, he simply lays in bed as Delilah runs her fingers through his silver curls and hums. Sometimes he trances, sometimes he watches her without saying much at all.

For the first time since Ani left, he experiences uninterrupted, nightmare-free sleep.

And the woman is smart enough to simply follow instructions and not pry. At least at the start..

Eventually, Astarion has Delilah make private calls to the Palace. He pays a ridiculous amount of gold for this, but it’s no matter.

Most nights, she’s still a glorified sleep aid; other nights, he becomes more physical. But the voice and the vitiligo are wrong every time, and it takes weeks before he’s able to fully commit to the act. Even then, something feels not quite right. But it’s as close as he can get.

And then finally, several months after their peculiar agreement first began, Astarion, after far too many bottles of wine, reveals he’s a vampire to the shapeshifter.

“As in a true, blood-sucking vampire?” Delilah asks, eyebrows furrowed as she assesses the Lord. It’s a rare moment in which she’s in her own chosen form, rather than the likeness of Ani that he pays her for.

“Something like that,” He laughs, though it comes out quite wry, “I can drink blood; I no longer need to for survival.”

“Show me,” She responds, her curiosity getting the better of her. Delilah is wholly aware she is flirting with danger, but she’s never been one to shy away from an opportunity, especially one that comes with the allure of money or power.

Astarion stares at her for a long while, finishing off the final bits of his goblet, his thoughts entirely imperceptible. He taps his cup with his index finger as he tilts his head and watches the woman. She thinks he’s going to reject her request.

And then, surprisingly, he nods, “Very well. But you must morph, first.”

Delilah obliges, and at first the Lord brushes her hair from her neck and moves to sink his fangs there. But he retracts at the last moment, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.

It’s not really Ani, he reminds himself.

After a brief pause and a sharp inhale, Astarion takes her hand and turns it, finding the pulse point on her wrist. He keeps his eyes locked onto the distorted appearance of his ex-lover as he bites into the changeling’s flesh.

And what a terrible decision that was. He’d just invited a devil onto his shoulder and a snake into his bed.

The constant bashing of Astarion’s fists sounds like a poorly played drum as he repeatedly swings into Edmund’s hanging body. The human is strung up by his arms in the office, dangling so that his toes barely brush the white marble floor.

The bastard is annoyingly sturdy, and manages to stifle most of his grunts as the Ascendant continues his torment. This only angers Astarion further, and he begins to hit harder, now intentionally aiming for the man’s face every time and splattering dots of crimson around the room.

Great. He will have to call the servants into his private office to scrub the floor and walls. He might have to replace the curtains.

It’s clear that whoever turned this vampire has conditioned him quite well. It’s been an hour of repeated strikes and the human seems nowhere near his breaking point.

Between the physical exertion of pummeling Edmund and the draining effects of his ring as Eirianwen continues to burn the poison through her system in the next room over, Astarion is beginning to tire. He is sure he must escalate his methods to rip any information from Edmund, but he refuses to give the spawn a single break in his torment.

So he barks an order at one of his own spawn standing guard not far behind him, “Thrak! Continue where I’ve left off. I have more important things to attend to than beating this disgusting vermin.”

A final blow to Edmund’s face and then Astarion spins on his heels with a sneer, flicking his hand up to examine his cracked knuckles and bloodied nails in distaste.

Thrak is a large half-orc with slashes running vertically down his chin. The marks are an intentional, cultural scarification, Astarion is told; his sister, Melga, has the same ones.

Astarion focuses his eyes on Melga, where she is now watching her brother assault Edmund with mild interest. A few gestures of his hands, and the Vampire Lord communicates to the female orc that he wants to be informed if Edmund breaks.

Melga quickly gestures her understanding. Astarion is not fluent in the sign language Thrak and Melga speak; it appears to be a mixture of Thieves Speak and something else he does not recognize. Perhaps they made it up themselves. But over the years, he has learned enough to get by and Thrak has always willingly worked as the translator.

When the Ascendant first offered immortality to Thrak, the half-orc indicated he and his sister were a two for one deal. He would change with his sister or not at all; he hoped vampirism would restore the hearing she lost as a child. And the Ascendant, still thinking himself better than Cazador in that he did not change people against their will, agreed.

Unfortunately, there are some conditions vampirism cannot fix.

Jaheira took leave to return home and check in on her wards. The druid indicated she needed to delve into her medicinal stores and confer with Halsin on the matter of Eirianwen’s affliction.

Mention of the wood elf’s name instantly caused Astarion to bristle. If Halsin had a solution, it would not be the first time the oversized elf helped Eirianwen in a way the vampire could not. The Ascendant is quite sure he loathes that man more than any of his other former campmates; he idly thinks it’s a bit of a shame it’s Edmund instead of Halsin strung up next door.

Astarion leans forward and brings his bloodied, cracked hand to gently stroke her cheek along that tiny patch of vitiligo. And then he lifts two fingers to his lips, kisses them, and presses those fingers against that same spot, thinking about how he used to kiss it morning and night.

Thrak continues to pound his massive fists into the foreign spawn next door, and now the Ascendant can hear the sounds of Edmund's resilience breaking. The pained grunts and sobs are music to his ears, and he smiles in sadistic delight at the spawn’s suffering as he simply lounges in his chair, continuing to watch the sorceress breathe.

“We’ll figure this out, little love.” He whispers before he brings his hands together as if in prayer and analyzes the cries of agony from the next room.

Not long now.

He’s on the freezing marble floor. Cazador is straddled over him, pinning Astarion’s arms down with his knees. They’re in the spawn dormitory, in front of all his brothers and sisters. No one steps in to help him.

In the end, it’s all about self-preservation, isn’t it?

His master yanks at his silver curls and bends so close to Astarion’s face he can feel Cazador’s hot, disgusting breath on his skin.

“Where is it?!” The older vampire questions, pulling Astarion’s hair with vitriol and forcing a pained wail out of the spawn, “Where did you hide it?!”

“H-hide what? Master! Please, I don’t know what you’re–”

A solid strike to Astarion’s face causes him to stop his defenses mid-sentence.

“Petras! Leon! Bring me a barrel of water, rags, and a pillow case.” Cazador orders coolly, as his eyes briefly flicker to the elf’s siblings. The two other spawn quickly run to retrieve the requested items for their enraged Master.

“You traitorous leech. Where is it?” Cazador asks through gritted teeth, gripping Astarion’s chin so tightly he is convinced the bones in his jaw are cracking under the force.

He doesn’t know what it is. He doesn’t know where it is. If Astarion knew, he would’ve already spilled all his secrets. It never takes this much to rip a confession out of the elf nowadays.

He’s stunned into silence, staring wide-eyed at the older vampire, unsure what to do or say to make this interrogation stop.

Nothing. There’s nothing he can do or say. Astarion knows it and the thought fills him with dread.

Cazador growls and spits in the elf’s face before shoving a cloth in Astarion’s mouth and completely shrouding him in darkness with the pillowcase. Leon and Petras are instructed to hold the elf’s limbs as he emits gagged screams of anguish. He tries to break away from his brothers, but it’s to no avail.

He was always one of the weaker spawn.

Astarion’s screaming is stifled by a shock of icy water filling his nose and throat as Cazador begins to waterboard him. He doesn’t need to breathe, but the sensation alone is terrifying. The silver-haired spawn continues to thrash against his siblings as their Master enacts his violent punishment. It feels like it goes on forever. The entire barrel is emptied over him before Cazador stops.

Astarion knew it was mostly for show. Cazador often made an example out of him to deter anyone else from committing the same act he was blamed for.

In the end, Astarion was thrown into the kennels for further torture. He never truly knew what it was, though he suspects he found it much later.

The Ascendant is straddled over Edmund as Thrak and Melga hold onto the foreign spawn’s bound limbs. Long, pale fingers grip the vermin’s jaw, prying it open with nearly enough force to rip the mandible from its joint.

“Last chance. Who is your master?” Astarion asks, tone low and coming across as far too bored for the violence that has recently ensued within this room. He’s watching Edmund with expectant, cold eyes.

“Fuck you!” Edmund responds in a venomous hiss, glaring up at the Vampire Lord with what little expression in his face he has left after the hours of repeated blows.

“Wrong answer.” The elf sighs, and then he procures a spoon from his pocket and forces it into the spawn’s mouth.

Astarion chuckles sadistically as Edmund begins to thrash and twist against the half-orcs. The spoon is quickly wedged underneath the spawn’s gumline, and the Ascendant begins to slowly pry out the traitor’s left fang, grinning all the while.

He could do this much faster, of course, but what’s the fun in that? The bastard deserves to suffer.

The bastard deserves to die. And he will. Just not yet.

First, Astarion gets to have his fun. A chance for him to make someone bleed was a rare, delectable thing nowadays. The temptation was difficult for the Ascendant to resist.

Edmund is screaming now, flailing around in agony and fighting for an out. But it isn’t going to work; three on one is never truly a fair fight.

Especially as a starved spawn.

“WHO. IS. YOUR. MASTER?” Astarion bellows over the tortured, terrified wails of the spawn. His curls are falling out of place, dangling in front of his narrowed scarlet eyes and obscuring parts of his vision as he continues to slowly peel fang from flesh, undeterred by the useless, pitiful crying and bucking underneath him.

Eventually the left fang pops out with a spatter of blood across Astarion’s hand and he scoffs in disdain before cleaning his hand on Edmund’s barely recognizable, heavily swollen face.

Disgusting vermin.

“FUCK YOU!” Edmund screams, but his voice cracks at the end and he is no longer able to hold in the tears rolling out of two swollen sockets.

Astarion tuts his tongue against the roof of his mouth, as if disappointed. Then he sighs a long, belabored breath as he rolls his eyes at the spawn, “You are strong, Edmund, I must admit. But what you have in brawn, you certainly lack in brains, don’t you?”

And then the Ascendant abruptly plunges the spoon into the human’s gum line just above his right fang. Edmund jerks his head at the last moment and the dull instrument slices against his mouth and tongue, still causing a laceration due to the amount of force Astarion is using on the manufactured weapon.

Blood quickly pools in Edmund’s mouth and he spits it at the silver-haired elf in a final act of defiance.

The switch is instantly flipped.

Astarion’s face contorts with pure, unfiltered hate. His heart starts pounding in rapid fire. Whatever modicum of control he had over his violent desires instantly slips from his hands as his grip around the spoon tightens.

He doesn’t realize he’s wrapping his hand around the spawn’s neck and crushing it with the full force of his Ascendant power. He cannot think past his red, blinding rage as he’s stabbing into Edmund’s chest with the blunted instrument.

He pierces through the spawn’s flesh over and over and over and over.

When the Ascendant finally gains control of his senses, the first thing he sees is Edmund’s mangled body beneath him and his hands coated in scarlet. The first thing he hears, however, is a woman’s scream ripping through the office.

When Astarion jerks his head toward the source, he sees Ani standing in the doorway, both hands clasped over her mouth.

He hates what he sees.

Terror. Pure terror.

She’s terrified of him. And she runs.

#astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate 3 #astarion fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic idea #baulders gate tav #astarion x oc #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female oc #astarion x female tav #astarion x original female character #midwinter carol #ascended astarion arc #ascended astarion #ascendedstar #ascended astarion fic

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sirphrogington3rd · 10 months

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Read to me (AemondxPregnant wife)

Info: Aemond's pregnant wife one night wishes him to read to her and the baby

Warnings: Sickeningly sweet fluff, pregnancy

Author's note: I feel like Aemond would either be an AMAZING father or a horrible one

...

Your belly had grown large over the months, your dresses became looser, and your temper was explosive. Yet you loved being pregnant. You were excited to meet your unborn child. Your maternal instincts are already taking over.

Your babe was rather active through the night, having you get up to pee every hour, kicking you, and just being a discomfort. So this night, in the light of the full moon, you sit on the balcony, taking in the night air. Aemond had told you to wake him if you ever need him, yet you let him sleep.

Aemond, though, had woken meer minutes ago, getting up to grab something to entertain his mind when he realized you were not in bed. Aemond had grabbed a storybook from the shelf, one you kept from your childhood, he had shuffled into the seat opposite you

"You know, my dear," Aemond started

"I can wake you when I need you," you finish tilting your head to look at him

Aemond smiles, looking down at the book. Your eyes follow his to the book, and you shift. Your hand jumps against your belly as a sharp pain hits you, Aemond places his hand atop yours.

"The Maester believes there could be two babies since I am so large," you smile through the pain

"Two little dragons," Aemond cooed in a sweet voice

You look at Aemond, "Could you read to me?" you asked

Aemond looked up at you, "Of course," he says, placing a gentle hand on your cheek

you lean into his touch, warm, safe. Aemond's other hand moves you to help you out of the chair, and you let him guide you back to the bed. You lay beside him, scanning the words on the pages as he read. The child in your womb calmed as Aemond's tired voice read tales of magic.

"Seems your voice calms the baby," you said, "as it calms me."

"I am happy to hear my voice can soothe you and that restless child," Aemond says

You smile, snuggling closer, "My love."

"Yes?"

"You write poetry. Why do you not share it with me," you ask

"They are all of you, ñuha prūmia," he says

You laugh, "Really?"

Aemond smiles, "Yes, you are my muse," he says, kissing the top of your head

You had learned only a little High Valyrian. You kept it hidden, and you wanted to surprise him. Aemond had placed his hand on your belly, your hand atop his.

"Will you read some to me?" you ask sweetly looking at him

Aemond smiled, "If you wish it," he says

You laugh slightly looking at him, "I wish it," you say through the laugh

Aemond leans over and takes a leather book for this bedside table, you've seen the book many times but never the contents. Aemond places the book in his lap, opens it, and flips through the many pages. Some sketches, some words, Aemond then stops

"This," he says

You place your hand on his shoulder the sonnet was in High Valyrian you couldn't read most of it but he still translated it under the pretense you couldn't understand it at all. It described your beauty and how much he loved you, you could cry it was so sweet, and reluctant tears rolled from your eyes.

"Why do you love me so much?"

"What?"

"Why do you love me...?" you repeated

Aemond licked his lips before looking back at the little leather book in his lap, again flipping through the pages. He stopped at the most recent page, he took in a breath before his voice now quiet as he held back tears. He read, how you filled his heart with happiness, how he could never get sick of you, how he even wanted to be married till he met you. You were his love at first sight. So when he finished he looked at you, tears welling behind his violet eye. In a comfortable silence that spoke a million words

You place your hand on his face and he, you. You place your forehead against his, a gesture saying you loved him.

"I would burn down the world if it meant I could hold you forever."

#ewan mitchell #aemond imagine #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #pregnancy #pregnant #wife #wife material

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vidjausers-fable · 4 months

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PenPals(Veneer x OC)Chapter 4

Previous chapter

Author’s Note: This is a more Avery-centered chapter, so I hope you enjoy getting to know this character more! Thank you again to my best friend @tinalbion for beta reading for me! Here’s more fanart of Velvet, Veneer, and yes, even Avery.

How would one describe their work without sounding insane? Avery didn’t know, even though she’d been working at that stupid rink close to five years. She was on her thirty minute lunch in the staff lounge, her skates off and under the table at her feet. In front of her, she had a slice of pizza and a soda, with a pen and notepad. She found herself taking notes of things she wanted to tell Veneer throughout the day and used those notes to write to him in the evening. She wanted to make sure that her letters were full of content, whether it be photos or just daily updates. Never once did she want a letter to lack any content, especially since Samson put a lot of effort into writing her back. Sometimes she would get pages of letters and sketches.

For about a month now, they had been sending letters back and forth. Avery felt herself grow closer with the male, yet too shy to ask if she could visit in person. If anyone asked her a few years ago where she imagined herself, she would have not answered with: Oh yeah, I’m sending letters back and forth with someone who was close to going to prison!

It just made her feel less lonely, after losing her one and only friend. Her best friend too. She knew that she had to get back out there eventually, to learn to trust others again and make friends, but it was hard when someone screwed you over as hard as Rebel Rivers did to her. She still felt hurt that one moment they were roommates, and the next second she was quite literally drained of all her money and kicked to the curb. Would it be weird to ask a coworker to go out and do something? What could they even do: go to another nasty joint or go bowling at another cheesy diner?

Absent-mindedly, she allowed her foot to fidget with her skates, rolling them back and forth, though she made sure not to let them roll too far away. She didn’t know what else to write to Samson without sounding as though she was one who constantly complained about their situation. But truly, at her work, she felt lonely, and at home, she felt isolated.

From the other side of the staff lounge, one of Avery’s coworkers watched her silently mope.

What Avery didn’t know was that her coworkers had noticed this loneliness. One did. This one in particular was Gracie, who had been there the longest after Avery, and knew that Avery had been on her own since a young age. Gracie was only a few years older, but she felt as though Avery somehow was more mature than her, and isolated. She didn’t know why, however, but felt like she could possibly work up the courage to reach out and see if Avery wanted to open up to her at a later time. She would have reached out to Avery sooner, but it felt as though that once she finished cleaning up the kitchen for the night, Avery was already gone before she could ask. Gracie was one of the preppers and line cooks while Avery skated and waited tables, which made it hard to get her to slow down, and their breaks hardly aligned with one another. But today would be different, she promised herself. She told herself that she would ask Avery tonight to come with her to the club tomorrow. She knew both of their schedules and that both of them had the day off tomorrow.

It was now or never.

Gracie calculated that Avery had about seven minutes left on her break, same as Gracie herself. Her palms were sweaty. She was nervous that she would be rejected. Now was the best time to do it, if she really would ask Avery tonight.

Stumbling over to the blonde in the booth, Gracie approached Avery. To her, Avery was beautiful and had her own unique style with the pink strip in her hair and the fishnets she wore under her uniform skirt. Gracie wished she had her confidence.

Despite being standoffish, Avery always smiled at her coworkers, so Gracie wasn’t any different. Avery smiled up at her as she approached. “Hey Grace, what’s up?” Avery asked, flipping the paper she was writing over, then sat up straighter.

Gracie scratched the back of her neck. “Sorry if I’m asking on such late notice, but if you’re not busy would you like to come clubbing with my boyfriend and me tomorrow night?” The question came out in stumbled words, so Gracie hoped that they were understandable to Avery, “I just realized that we’ve been working together for two years and we’ve never even stayed over extra for a drink or anything. It felt wrong to me in a way.” She smiled timidly.

Avery blinked up at her coworker in shock. Gracie was…sort of like her. Gracie kept to herself at work, though once when Avery was working, she had waited at her coworker’s table when she was out for some friends, and seemed to be a social butterfly then. Avery still treated her with kindness outside of work.

Avery stared up at the dark-skinned girl and admired how pretty she was with her curly dark black hair she had to keep pinned up and hidden while on the job. It was hard to believe that she even stuck around at a cook job when she could be out there and be a model or something.

“I don’t see why not,” Avery replied, smiling at her, “I’m off and if I take another shift, I would be doing TOO much overtime. So yeah, that sounds fun. Do you want to make plans to maybe do our hair together and makeup? I also have a couple dresses I could wear. I’ll bring them over.” Watching Gracie’s bright brown eyes wide when she answered did make her feel happier in a way, “I could come over, or you could come over to my place.”

Gracie nearly bounced off the floor. Avery wouldn’t realize that she had just opened Pandora’s jar. “OMG, that would be amazing!” She clapped her hands in excitement, “You can come over to my place, I have all KINDS of makeup to share with you. Just text me through my personal number. Can I write it down?” she pointed to the piece of paper that Avery’s hand had remained on top of the entire time.

Avery looked at it and handed it over hesitantly, “Yeah, sure.” She watched carefully as Gracie wrote her number out, and made sure she didn’t flip the page. She was a bit anxious for others to find out she was sending letters to someone who had been arrested.

“Text me tonight so I can text you my address ASAP! I don’t have anything going on, so I’ll be back at home with my boyfriend. Feel free to come over any time! This is going to be so much fun.” Gracie giggled, “Oh, we only have a minute left of our break! We should get back to work. It’ll help make time pass for the rest of the night!” She turned on the ball of her feet and rushed back into the kitchen. She stopped for a moment to look back at Avery, “Don’t forget to text me!” And then she was gone.

That wasn’t so bad… Gracie thought to herself, Avery is actually an interesting person. I shouldn’t have judged her so quickly. With that thought, she returned to her work.

Avery didn’t personally mind being a couple minutes late returning and took her time to slip back into her skates, sliding her notepad into her uniform apron. She chuckled quietly to herself at the encounter with Gracie. She didn’t realize Gracie had so much energy in her. Though she had to think to herself for a moment—Gracie had been so nervous about approaching her? Did Avery give off that vibe…? Was she just that unapproachable to others?

Shaking off some creeping thoughts, Avery skated back into the room, where her shift was as normal for the rest of the night. When she returned home, she was almost too tired to shower but did anyway because she did not want her bed to smell like grease. So, she took a long hot shower, taking her time to wash the smell off herself before she went to bed, not even adding to Samson’s letter for the night, too exhausted from her long shift. She did make sure to text Gracie before she passed out.

When Avery awoke, she was more sore than usual. Honestly, she was considering texting Gracie to cancel. The longer she lay there in bed, teetering back and forth, the more she began to think about the day. She had already promised her coworker to go out for the night, and she didn’t like the thought of chickening out and then facing Gracie at work the next day. Plus, it would probably do her good to get out to somewhere that wasn’t the grocery store. This soreness would pass.

But did she really want to face the Boom Box again? After what had happened with Velvet and Veneer, and now her own personal trauma of having her own art stolen, that place seemed almost…traumatic for her now. Even if nothing remotely traumatic happened to her in it.

Avery released a long breath. “Okay, stop thinking or you’ll start to spiral. Let’s get up and do something,” she encouraged herself and stood, stretching her long limbs above her head. If her body could make cracking sounds, then it would have.

Avery checked the time. It was only 9am. She sent a text to Gracie, seeing that she had texted her address late last night, probably around the time when they both got home. I just got up. Going to get ready. Do you want breakfast while I’m getting some? There, that seemed friendly, right?

Gracie texted back immediately, making Avery wonder if she was staring at her phone the entire morning, waiting for Avery to text. Yes pls! A coffee and a burrito if possible! ^0^

Will do! How do you like your coffee? After texting, she set her phone aside to brush her hair and look at herself in the mirror. She ran her fingers over the pink strip in her hair, seeing that it didn’t look as glossy as usual. Was your natural hair color supposed to fade this early? She brushed her teeth and then tended to her pets.

“Sorry guys, I can’t let you out today. I’ll be out all day. But here’s some extra treats to hold you over until then.” She took them out of their pen and allowed them to eat the snacks in her lap. When they were done, she put them back and returned to her phone. She picked it off her kitchen counter and checked to see if Gracie had answered her text. She had, so Avery made a mental note to her coffee order.

Avery’s fingers acted out of instinct, and she found herself looking up Samson on her phone. When no name popped up, she realized that she was about to text a man’s number that she didn’t even have—but a number she realized she desperately wanted. This made her blush to herself before she went and looked for Samson’s letter where she had started but not quite finished yet. She wanted to finish writing to him, but she didn’t want to keep Gracie waiting.

“I’ll finish you tomorrow morning before work,” she promised to Samson as if he was right in front of her, then set the letter down on the kitchen island where she did most of her writing.

Avery took her bag and headed out the door after she dressed. Today she was in a black t-shirt and pink skirt with fishnets. She had brought with her a dress or two for the club, though wondered if Gracie would make them go out shopping for some together. She secretly hoped not.

There was a coffee shop near the bus stop that Avery often visited on the days she went grocery shopping. She went ahead and got their coffees and two burritos before making sure that they were wrapped up nicely in a bag and secured. Sometimes the roads in Mount Rageous were crazy fast and tossed you back and forth, and Avery didn’t want to start this day with coffee all over herself or her dresses.

The ride took about fifteen minutes, and sure enough, the bus was fast, tossing Avery around in the back. Had she not needed to bring so much with her, she would have just skated and saved herself the aches and pains in her arms and legs. She pulled the brake for the bus driver when she neared the street that Gracie had texted her and then stood. When she exited the bus, she immediately texted Gracie, Hey I just got off the bus and I’m close. Do you think that you could step outside so I can see where you’re at?

There had been no response back immediately, though very did see the seen marker pop up under the text almost instantly. Her face was still buried in her phone when she heard someone call her name, “AVERY! I’M OVER HERE!”

Avery looked side to side but saw no one. All there were, was the apartments stretching down from both left and right.

“I MEAN UP HERE!”

Avery then looked up and saw Gracie standing on a fourth story balcony. She was waving her hand back and forth erratically while smiling. She cupped her mouth when she called out, “CUT THROUGH THE BUILDING IN THE CENTER AND I’LL MEET YOU DOWNSTAIRS!”

“Okay!” Avery called out but not nearly as loud as Gracie, so she wasn’t sure if her coworker had heard her. Gracie smiled anyway and disappeared back into her apartment.

As she had been told, Avery cut through the center of the apartments, where there were stairs, and waited in case that was where she was supposed to be. Sure enough, she heard the loud tapping of frantic shoes before Gracie made an appearance. She was wearing shorts, a white hoodie that had rabbit ears coming off the top of it, and house slippers. It was strange to see her outside of her work uniform.

“Good morning!” Gracie said excitingly, greeting Avery by kissing both her cheeks. It was a bit of a greeting that was too far into Avery’s bubble, but she didn’t voice that. Gracie immediately took the food out of her hands, making Avery’s load lighter. “We only have to go up one flight of stairs to the lobby, and then we can go into the elevator.”

Avery smiled and teased, “Thank god. You scared me for a moment when I saw you on the fourth floor. I’m on the third floor in my apartment, and our elevator breaks often.”

Gracie giggles, “You should move here then. The maintenance here is pretty fabulous!”

Avery thought to herself, If I could only afford it. Gracie and I work the same job, but she also has her boyfriend to help pitch in for rent…

“Oh shoot, I forgot to ask if your boyfriend wanted anything for breakfast.”

Gracie scoffed playfully and waved her hand, “Psh, don’t worry about him. He can fend for yourself. Thank you SO much for breakfast, it smells so good! Where did you get it?”

Avery followed Gracie up the stairs and to the elevator, “There’s this coffee shop kinda in the center of my apartments. It’s an amazing hang out place, and the food and coffee is—and don’t tell the boss—so much better than at the diner. I go there every other week, if not every week. It’s called the Truffle Tower ironically. Maybe the two of us can go together after work one day.”

“I would SO love that!” Gracie squeaked and pressed the button to the fourth floor, continuing to talk as the elevator went up, “My boyfriend is home but he won’t bother us. I told him to play video games all morning if he had to. I’m so excited to have a girls day out!” She tried not to jump while they were in the elevator, but once they stepped out she leaped for joy, unable to contain herself.

This made Avery laugh and snort, “Are you SURE you need this coffee? You’re bouncing off the walls!” she teased.

Gracie was too pumped to stop bouncing, even as they made it to her door. There was a doormat in front that said, Only come in if you have my delivery. “Gods yes, I’ll need more bean juice if you want to keep this party in motion! Oh, here’s my place.” She unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Upon stepping inside, Avery was greeted with an apartment that was luxurious compared to hers. The walls were light blue and the furniture had a gray, blue, or black modern tone to them. She could see the balcony with glass sliding doors, where Gracie had called out to her earlier. Avery almost gasped out loud.

What Avery was almost greeted with was a tall male with dark blue hair and pale skin. He was wearing a hoodie and boxer briefs, and was also in the middle of eating cereal messily.

“TROY! I TOLD YOU TO GET DRESSED, WE HAVE A GUEST OVER!” Gracie screamed and grabbed an orange off the counter, throwing it at him.

Troy laughed and grabbed the orange with one hand, the other still wrapped around his bowl, “I’m not starving myself for you, woman! Fine, I’m going!” He took the orange and the bowl and disappeared into one of the rooms, closing the door.

Gracie released a dramatic sigh, and for a moment she seemed to calm down, “Sorry about that. He doesn’t like to listen to the words I say!” She scoffs and takes Avery to her kitchen island. It was much longer and had a better countertop than Avery’s back at home. “Let’s eat here before I starve myself. Do you want anything back for breakfast?” she asked calmly as she took out the burrito box and the coffee labeled with her name.

Avery returned the smile and shook her head, “No way. I asked because it’s a treat from me.” She took her own coffee and removed the protective top that prevented spills and dove it, “I forgot to ask what meat you wanted on your burrito, so I hope sausage was okay. I got bacon for myself in case you didn’t like it.”

“Sausage was a fine choice! Thank you again!”

As they ate, it was silent, but only for a moment before Gracie began to speak again, “I’m really excited to go clubbing tonight. I heard that there’s going to be something exciting going on at the Boom Box tonight. Have you seen it on the news?”

Avery tried not to pale. Luckily her pink skin never seemed to lose much color, “No. I guess I haven’t lately. What’s going on?”

“I’m not quite sure yet…But I heard that it’s going to be AMAZING! It’s a surprise but it’s being announced tonight. I’m thrilled you’re going. It gets lonely with two people, especially when the other person wants to go do something else. With you and my boyfriend, there will always be someone there! Have you been clubbing at the Boom Box before?”

Avery tried not to hesitate, but her words faltered for a moment, “Oh, yeah. Once or twice. But I haven’t since I started picking up evening and double shifts.”

Gracie pouted her bottom lip, “That sucks. I see you working your ass off all the time. You deserve some time to rest.”

Avery shrugged it off, “I guess I’m just trying to save up some extra money.”

“But aren’t you burnt out or something?”

“Yeah, a bit, but at least I’m getting numbers saved up in my bank account.”

Gracie crossed her arms as she scoffed, “That won’t do you well, Avery! You’ll work yourself into a grave at this point. From now on, you and I are going to have some more girl time. Got it?”

Avery chuckled, not arguing with her coworker, though she worried that this wouldn’t work out. “Alright, alright. We’ll see how tonight goes, and go from there.”

Gracie agreed and then the two finished off their food. Avery went into the kitchen and washed the grease from her hands. “Where’s your trash?”

“It’s under the sink, but I’ve got it!” Gracie insisted and took their breakfast trash, throwing it away for them. “I see you brought some dresses. Can I see them?” she asked excitingly,

“Sure, I wasn’t sure what to bring really. I don’t have many dresses, but I dug out a couple. It’s been a while since I wore them though.”

Avery pulled out three dresses. There was a silky black one that reached her knees, and a blue one that had a low V line with a window in the back as well. It was the third dress that caught Gracie’s attention, however—it was a neon pink latex dress. The color was the same as the pink strip in her hair. The moment that Avery lifted it, Gracie covered her mouth and gasped, “Oh my god, try that one on, I think that one’s perfect!”

Avery blushed and held the dress. She looked down at it. Indeed it had been a while since she had worn this particular dress. In fact, it was probably a year at most? The last time she had was when she was at a Velvet and Vene…a…a concert. Yeah. How could she have forgotten? She had the sudden urge to shove this dress into the toilet and flush it until it was gone, but she couldn’t let Gracie know that she was upset. Instead, she smiled and nodded, “Yeah, of course. Where’s your bathroom?”

Gracie pointed to a door to the left, “That one. While you’re getting dressed, I’m going to get my makeup out. I already know the perfect look for you!”

Avery disappeared into the bathroom and changed into the pink dress. She hesitated to look at herself in the mirror but smiled when she did. The dress still fit her perfectly. It was a tube top that reached her midthigh. It wasn’t too short or too long. It also didn’t squeeze her, which surprised her considering she worked in such a greasy place. Her neck looked exposed, however, so she wished she had grabbed some of her jewelry to help her not feel as naked. With some fishnets and her long black boots, her outfit would be complete! Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad wearing this dress again.

Avery didn’t know what to expect when she stepped out of the bathroom. Gracie was seated on her couch and gasped the moment she saw her, her jaw nearly hitting the floor. “Oh. My. God. AVERY, YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL!” She almost cried, “Do you have shoes to go with it?!”

“I have my knee-high black boots since they could go with any of the dresses, and I plan on wearing my fishnets. I was wondering if you had a spare necklace I could borrow? I totally forgot how exposed this dress makes me feel right here.” She touched her neck.

“Girl, I was thinking the same THING! We’ll look for something before we leave okay? Now, tell me, which makeup style do you prefer…” Gracie motioned for Avery to sit down next to her.

Together, the two spent the morning and afternoon prepping for the evening to come. They watched a show together, and when it was closer to time, Gracie did their makeup. Avery had a glittery pink eyeshadow along with some black that smudged all around her eye. She also had lip gloss that made her lips look sparkly but didn’t take away from the masterpiece that was her eyes. Gracie chose something more teal. Her outfit was a teal crop top and skirt that could have been one dress had Gracie not wanted to show off her midriff. She also wore teal makeup to match. Her top lip was black while her bottom was the same blue as her dress. The two looked ready for the club, and Avery felt ready for it too.

After a small fit between Gracie and Troy, the two were soon out the door. Gracie was glued to Avery’s side the entire time, hugging her arm, as Troy walked behind him. Gracie happily chatted the entire time, even through the bus trip to the Boom Box.

Standing outside the Boom Box made Avery’s knees feel weak. Though the real nerves hit her the moment she passed the bouncer and stepped into the club. The lights blasted the colors of the rainbows and the combination of the others screaming along with music made it nearly impossible to hear Gracie despite the girl speaking directly into her ear.

Avery stood in the middle of the Boom Box now, but she recalled the familiar excitement she felt when she had gone to see Velvet and Veneer for the first time. She stood in the loud, crowded room now, but her mind was elsewhere, further away into the reaches of her memory. This brought Avery back so many months ago. Maybe even a year? Back when Rivers and her were rising to the top. Until they suddenly weren’t. Velvet and Veneer had hit the charts and hit them hard enough that it nearly knocked River off the charts. Avery believed that was the reason Rivers turned on her—when she realized Avery didn’t want to do more to rise back to the top. That’s why Rivers had stolen her work.

Staring at the stage, she saw Veneer and Velvet performing. She really did feel like she was living a sweet dream listening to them.

Avery was at the front of the crowd, her hands in the air reaching for the popstars. She was in the VIP crowd, screaming in pure joy. She swore Veneer turned toward her and winked, making her feel butterflies in her stomach and a blush in her cheeks. This was pure bliss, she had noticed him!

Sweet Dreams continued to play through the club, and even with the crowd joining in on the fun of singing, the twin’s voices carried the most. Velvet’s voice rang the loudest, and Avery wished that she could hear Veneer more. He was her favorite out of the two, though she never would admit it out loud since everyone else seemed to be Velvet fans.

“Alright, Mount Rageons!” Velvet held the microphone to her lips, her voice blaring over the music as it died down, “We’re so appreciative of our fans that we decided to give you all a gift. From us!” She grabbed some shirts and started to throw some out into the crowd. When someone caught the shirt, the fan screamed loudly.

When Veneer grabbed t-shirts of his own, that’s why Avery’s stomach dropped. She screamed as loud as she could and threw her hands into the air, trying to reach as far into the air as she could. For a moment, she swore he looked at her, flashing a charming smile her way. She wasn’t imagining it. They made eye contact. Veneer took one of the shirts and tossed them her way. Avery nearly climbed over the crowd to catch it. Some people tugged on it, but she refused to let it go. She threw it over her body before anyone could snatch it from her. The shirt was a fluorescent neon green, which glowed in the dark. It was completely unique! Holding it and wearing it almost made her cry. She pulled it over her pink dress and hugged it tight.

“I LOVE YOU VENEER!!” She screamed, cheering for her favorite idol.

Veneer winked, “I love you too!”

Avery nearly fainted on the spot. He noticed her!

Velvet took the front again, her brother falling behind as always. She looked over to the crowd as if they were her puppets and called out, “Whoever caught the t-shirts get backstage passes to meet my brother and me PERSONALLY! We look forward to seeing you all!” She blew kisses to the crowd, “Goodnight everyone!”

Avery’s jaw fell open, and her knees became weak. She was about to faint for real. Holding onto that shirt felt more like a priority than anything. She couldn’t let anyone steal it from her! She pushed through the crowd and found the twin’s bodyguards, who were intimidating.

“I…I have a pass.” She pointed to her shirt nervously. Her heart was beating faster the more she thought of the two, but specifically Veneer.

The guards leaned in closer and observed the shirt closer before they parted the way, allowing Avery to squeeze past her. One of the guards followed her down the hallway.

“To the door to the left,” he said from behind her, making her jump. The closer she came to the door, and soon her hand was on it. She was about to meet the people who inspired her the most…

Avery snapped out of it. She had been so out of it that she didn’t remember where she was or what she was going. Something felt wrong. When Avery looked up to the stage, she noticed her. A beautiful woman with a sparkling blue dress and pure white hair that touched her waist. Rebel Rivers. She was on the stage with small creatures on her shoulders. They were Trolls…?

Everyone quieted for Rivers as she called out to the crowd, “Brozone and I are happy to announce our collaboration and celebration of smaller artists with our Battle of the Bands! Brozone and I will open with some banging music before we ourselves will become judges. MAKE SURE TO COME BACK NEXT MONTH AND SIGN UP STARTING TODAY! The first ten people to sign up get autographs from Brozone and me! Cheers, my loves!” She blew a kiss to the crowd, and everyone screamed their approval.

Everyone except Avery.

This had been what Gracie was talking about earlier in the day. A special announcement.

Avery felt as though she was about to cry. She couldn’t breathe. Remembering everything upset her, and now Rivers was in the same room as her. When Gracie was preoccupied with her boyfriend, she slipped out of the Boom Box, her legs heavy as she dragged them. The wind felt cold against her cheeks as she cried to herself. She shouldn’t have come tonight.

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