#(she ended up writing me the fucking nicest thank you card and sending me WAY
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i know people are good because of this: the universe often assigns me side quests. in a circular strangeness; despite my inability to locate my-own-anything, i am almost-always finding someone else's lost things. dogs, coats, phones, cash, laptops. it happens so often it's almost tiring; suddenly being looped into a tiny amount of detective work.
but when i'm with other people who are not used to this: the response is almost invariably delight. yes, maybe they are simply thrilled by the mystery. it's just... they light up so much. i think maybe more... i think they like the opportunity to do something kind.
a few weeks ago, i was at a bar and i found a wallet as soon as we stepped outside. i felt nervous to ask for help, worried i would be holding up the night. i picked it up and said go on without me, i should help this get back to its home.
instead, three people pulled out their phones - to find him on facebook, to help cancel his credit cards. two people went back into the bar to tell the bartender, two others went calling down the street. group texts, facebook posts, instagram stories. people, without even seeing what happened, start offering help to me. fifteen minutes and: someone knows someone who knows the guy. the cheer that went up - just for finding him, just for this small thing. someone gets him on the phone. strangers dance around me, hopping on their feet - are you the girl that found that wallet? good for you, that's a good thing you're doing/same thing happened to me and somebody did what you're doing and i thank god everyday for people like you/i can't believe you found him so fast this is so exciting
i gave it back to him in a parking lot. i watched his shoulders sag with relief. there was cash in it still - he checked the pocket, and then sheepishly held the money out to me. i didn't take it. i held up my hands. "it's no problem, man. i know you'd do the same for me."
i don't know him, to be honest. i don't know if he is the same kind of person i am. but he nodded at me.
and i know people are good. i know people are good, because the way this story ends isn't surprising. we wave goodbye awkwardly. my friend loops their arm around me.
"i can't believe we got it back to him," they said. "i'm going to be riding that high for weeks."
#i lost my wallet in disney world once#and really thought i had beefed it bc i was 19 and alone#and a woman got it back to me within an hour#just like . a mom#i have no idea how she got my number or info#and i do think that since then karmatically god has been like.#ur about to be the same person in someone else's life#btw i like the side quests but they never happen at a good time#once saved 2 lost dogs while on the way to the airport. i already had my 70 pound dog in the back of my car#and had to chase 2 dogs down the street to wrastle into my passenger seat#(she ended up writing me the fucking nicest thank you card and sending me WAY#W A Y too much in target bucks as a thank-you)#i went 2 go see batman the other night and legit like. had already been running late#to go see a friend#and instead was like. sorry i have to step outside and use this person's phone to see if i can find them#i once found 250 dollars in cash lol#MEANWHILE IN MY PRIVATE LIFE#I LOSE FUCKING EVERYTHING#adhd will be like#: thou art so observant that it is distracting :#: BUT not observant towards items that are not novel to you :#: die mad about it :#: so it is written. so it must be :#: no nobody saw where you put the fucking car keys :
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May I request 41 - First Kiss and 94 - Hair Brushing/Braiding for the Leverage OT3, please? (Also extra bonus points if you give Eliot beads in his hair like in The Ice Man Job, because we didn't get NEARLY enough of that in the show) Thank you!
I cannot believe I wrote this whole thing out and then never published it. I’m so sorry, it’s been at least twenty-four years since you sent in this ask, please accept my humble apologies and also this ficlet.
However, this prompt is just pure fluff, and I hate to tell you this but I am not a fluff writer. I just can’t pull off that unadulterated sweetness. I am in this fandom for the shenanigans, first, last and foremost! So this fic is now a 5+1 of Eliot and Parker trying to seduce Hardison.
1. Parker thinks they need to give him gifts, so she goes through her stash and picks out the largest, fanciest jewel she’s ever stolen. Then she realizes: Hardison likes stories. He spends hours giving their aliases histories and pets and allergies and favorite foods, he can get a whole sordid history of jealousy and betrayal from a single corporate email chain, and Parker knows for a cold fact that he writes little stories with his online friends about being wizards together.
She goes through her stash again and picks out the most cursed thing she’s ever stolen.
It’s a jeweled statuette, almost as tall as her forearm, made of gold and studded with precious and semi-precious stones. Mysterious deaths have befallen five separate owners of this thing. Its base is dented from the time it was used to bludgeon Owner Number Three to death. The tiny rubies it has for eyes follow you across the room.
Parker puts a bow on it and leaves it in Hardison’s room while he’s sleeping. He wakes up to this horrible little statue watching him from his bedside table.
He texts the group chat, Hey did anyone put an evil little gold guy in my bedroom last night? But Parker chickens out and says nothing (drunkenly betting Eliot that she can seduce Hardison is one thing, but admitting that she likes him is something else altogether). Everyone else texts back variations on “nope.” (Except Sophie, who just sends back a string of heart eyes emojis and a wikipedia link. She loves cursed artifacts.) So Hardison puts the statue away in a closet somewhere and figures he’ll deal with it later.
Parker is mildly offended that he put her gift in a closet. She goes into his room the next night and puts it back on the bedside table, where it clearly belongs.
This goes on for a week. Hardison puts the statue in a desk drawer, then in one of the cabinets in the office downstairs, then in the dumpster down the street. Every day he wakes up to those glittering red eyes watching him sleep. He’s asked his internet buddies if anyone knows a good exorcist. Hardison doesn’t really believe in curses, but also? What the fuck. What the fuck.
~
2. Eliot assumes the drunken bet will be forgotten by morning. What kind of world would it be if people always followed through on promises they made while they could barely stay vertical? So he spends the morning nursing his hangover and cleaning his knives. Cleaning guns is no good while hungover—all the snaps and clicks of popping things in and out of place sound like actual gunfire when you’re hungover, it’s a nightmare—but knives are quiet and have no moving parts. Buffing and polishing them is soothingly repetitive work, and every once in a while he can throw one at one of the dartboards on the walls and reassure himself that his reflexes are still sound even after that much tequila.
It’s only when he gets Hardison’s text about the golden statuette that magically appeared in his room overnight that Eliot realizes Parker’s actually going for it. After some internal debate about whether he’s going to stoop to this or not, Eliot decides what the hell and starts making plans.
Eliot agrees that gifts are the way to go, but not stolen gifts. Not things. Anyone can give a thing. Proper wooing is about giving experiences.
Eliot plans for three days. On the fourth day, he and Hardison have their irregularly scheduled monthly coffee date, and Eliot texts him beforehand to say he wants to do it at the brewpub this time. Hardison arrives to find a deceptively simple meal: basic country fare perfected through years of experimentation, made with the best ingredients Eliot can get his hands on. And Eliot, after all, is still a retrieval specialist. There’s very little in the world he can’t get his hands on.
And yet the night ends and somehow he has not gotten his hands on Hardison.
This is just not right. Eliot knows how to deploy a smolder, okay, Tangled reference aside he is damn good at flirting and he knows the looks he’s giving Hardison are clear as day. It’d be one thing if Hardison had turned him down, or if he’d been uneasily unwilling, or even if his eyes had widened slightly in suppressed panic and he’d abruptly found a reason to leave. Eliot can take rejection, bet or no, and he��d have bowed out graciously without a fuss. But this was much, much worse.
Hardison didn’t even notice he was flirting.
He’s going to have to up his game.
~
3. “How do you seduce people?” Parker asks bluntly, turning up at Sophie’s door just past midnight.
Sophie, despite the hour, is utterly delighted by the question.
This goes as well as you would expect.
~
4. Eliot’s taken a lot of dates to sports games. Hardison may prefer sparkly elves with purple lightning magic to a decent MMA fight, but baseball is the American pastime. Eliot gets them perfect seats, hot dogs from the best vendor in the stadium, even chilled beer that he smuggles in without letting it get warm. It’s going to be a perfect game.
And it is. At first. Hardison, it turns out, has a lot of opinions about baseball. What he does not have is an understanding of the rules. They’re not even into the second inning by the time Eliot finally snaps and starts arguing with him about it.
They make it all the way to the fifth inning before Eliot realizes that Hardison’s basing his complaints off the rules of a game from a Star Wars novel.
They’re at the bottom of the eighth before Eliot will speak to him again.
~
5. Eliot and Parker are drunk again. This is not intentional. They didn’t even mean to come to this bar, but the smoothie place with the fried oreos that Eliot had brought Parker here to try was playing such incredibly bad music that they’d ordered the oreos to go and fled. The bar was just the coziest looking place on the block, and of course they’d ordered drinks to avoid being rude––Eliot had entertained himself for a few minutes scouring the menu for something that would pair well with fried oreos and popcorn chicken.
And now they’re drunk. The conversation has, perhaps inevitably, turned to the ongoing bet.
“I tried everything!” Parker wails. “I laughed at every joke, I touched my hair constantly, I got him talking about things he likes.” She thunks her forehead on the bar. “All that happened is now I know the complete history of orcs in western literature.”
“Hardison wouldn’t know flirting if it pinched him on the ass,” Eliot grumbles.
Parker slaps his arm. “No pinching Hardison!”
“I’m not going to—I don’t pinch people!”
Parker’s ignoring him. Eliot pouts and takes another sip of his drink. He’s not entirely sure what this one is––it’s blue and kind of fizzy, that’s all he can say for sure. Parker took over the drinks menu several glasses ago, and she’s been picking them based on what has the most fun name to say. Eliot’s pretty sure the alcohol content’s been doubling with each order.
“Eliot,” Parker slurs, “we need to work together.”
“What?”
Parker lifts her head from the bar and frowns at him, the way she does when she’s figured out the obvious solution and is just waiting for everyone else to get on the same page. It’s adorable. It’s always adorable, but right now her eyes are wide and slightly unfocused from the alcohol and she’s listing sideways a little, almost as if she’s unbalanced, and it is the most adorable thing Eliot has ever seen. Parker’s never unbalanced, but some part of Eliot’s fuzzy brain thinks she’s about to fall on top of him and cannot wait to catch her.
“You can’t seduce Hardison,” Parker points out. Eliot is drunk enough to get offended by this, but too drunk to get out a complaint before she continues, “I can’t seduce Hardison. But if we work together, the two of us can definitely seduce Hardison. Together.”
Eliot stares at her. Then he takes another sip of his fizzy blue drink. Later, when questioned, he will blame his next words on that drink.
“Worth a shot.”
They take Hardison to a movie. They research for three weeks beforehand. They find the best movie theater in town, with the nicest seats, the biggest screens, and concession snacks that Hardison likes, and they buy tickets for the midnight premiere of the superhero movie that Hardison hasn’t shut up about for the past month. Parker even hacks into the theater’s computers in a last-minute fit of nerves and cross-references the credit cards with drivers’ licenses to make sure the people sitting in front of them won’t be too tall.
Parker witnesses a kidnapping in the parking lot while the boys are getting popcorn. They don’t even stay long enough to catch the commercials.
~
+ 1. “Hey Eliot,” Hardison says during movie night, a little over a week later. “Remember the Ice Man Job?”
Eliot groans. “I try not to.”
Hardison throws a piece of popcorn at his face. “Shut up. Remember how you did your hair for that one? With the little—those little beads on, like, a braid?”
Eliot shoots Hardison a suspicious glance. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Teach me how to do that.”
Eliot shoots Hardison another, more deliberate look, this one pointedly directed at Hardison’s complete lack of braidable locks.
Hardison rolls his eyes as if that’s a silly detail to get hung up on and leans forward to dig around in one of the boxes he has under his coffee table. He emerges with a ziplock bag of plastic beads in no time flat and hands it triumphantly to Eliot. Then he yanks a few cushions out from behind Parker, who’s sitting on his other side, and puts them on the floor in front of him. “Sit here?” he asks Parker, patting the cushion pile.
Parker takes a moment to consider being offended at having her cushions stolen, but curiosity gets the better of her and she just plops down between Hardison’s legs, grabbing the bowl of popcorn as she goes, and waits.
Hardison lifts her hair with sudden gentleness, drawing it over her shoulders and letting it fall down her back in a golden wave. His fingers brush against her neck. Parker shivers. Eliot is distantly aware that he’s gone perfectly still, focused with a hunter’s intensity on Hardison’s dark, graceful fingers carding through Parker’s hair.
Hardison leans back, hands on his knees, and Eliot breathes again. “Well?” Hardison looks over at Eliot, a tiny smirk of challenge on his lips. “Show me how it’s done.”
Eliot is suddenly, brutally aware of how close they are. Hardison’s couch is obscenely comfortable, which is half the reason movie nights are at Hardison’s in the first place, but it is not large. Their thighs are touching. Hardison leans away, to give Eliot access to Parker’s hair, and he’s still so close that Eliot would barely have to reach out a hand to—
Eliot ruthlessly shoves that thought down into the dark where it belongs. He dealt with this, he dealt with this years ago, and accepting Parker’s stupid bet doesn’t mean he’s forgotten the way Hardison and Parker look at each other. It just means he doesn’t mind losing for a good cause.
So he keeps his tone steady and his fingers brisk as he shows Hardison how to braid the clunky plastic beads into Parker’s hair, and if he flushes with heat when their hands brush each other, well, nobody has to know. He’s been trained to withstand eight different schools of torture. It won’t show on his face. His voice never once falters.
Parker has had no such training. Her lips have parted, and her breathing is shallow. She’s staring glassy-eyed at the TV. Hardison can’t see her face, sitting behind her, but Eliot watches her carefully, worried that they need to call this off. Parker’s not used to intimacy, to closeness that means something, and for all the three of them have spent half their movie nights literally on top of each other, this is something else. This has weight.
Eliot puts a hand on her shoulder, pressing down just enough that Parker startles and cants a glance over at him. Eliot raises his eyebrows in question, and Parker glares back: don’t you fucking dare. Eliot backs off. Hardison, frowning in concentration as he threads a wisp of Parker’s hair through a green bead, graciously pretends he didn’t see the exchange.
Hardison gets the hang of the beading fairly quickly, and Eliot shows him a few different techniques. He’s almost managed to convince himself that nothing is actually happening when Hardison says, conversationally, “You two are really bad at this.”
Eliot glowers his confusion. “At movie night? You started this, if you wanted to actually watch Alien then you shouldn’t have—”
Hardison’s smile is soft, but Eliot decides for his own safety to focus on the laughter at its edge. “No, at this.” And then he slides his hand onto Parker’s neck, caresses her cheek, and isn’t the slightest bit surprised when she gasps.
Parker whips around, and there’s hurt on her face but it dies in the glow of Hardison’s gentle, unteasing smile. Hardison pulls her up with the lightest of touches, and she goes, eyes fixed on his like salvation.
They kiss sweet and slow, and Eliot’s heart twists in his chest and he can’t breathe. He needs to leave now before he shatters in half, but if he moves then they will look at him, and he would rather never breathe again than meet their eyes right now.
Hardison breaks off the kiss, gazing at Parker with something just this side of wonder, and then he does look at Eliot. Eliot flinches. He opens his mouth to…say something, make some joke or hasty excuse and scramble out the door, but Hardison raises a hand to Eliot’s face, slides his long fingers to cup Eliot’s neck, and pulls him forward, as gently as he did Parker.
It’s a chaste kiss, no more than a soft press of lips, because Eliot is too stunned to respond and Hardison doesn’t push. It lasts a long time. A whole era of change happens in the span of that kiss, as everything Eliot thought he knew tears out of place and then settles, gingerly, into a new understanding.
Hardison pulls away, his hand still warm on the back of Eliot’s neck. His smile is pure sunshine. Eliot finds himself smiling back, helpless.
Hardison’s grin turns smug. “And that,” he says, looking between Eliot and Parker, “is how you do it. Y’all are disasters, honestly, I can’t believe two master criminals working together couldn’t manage a single real date—”
Eliot heaves a deep sigh and drags Hardison into a headlock, pinning his arms when he flails. Parker surges to her knees and starts tickling him mercilessly.
They don’t finish the movie.
#finx writes#I didn't quite get Eliot's hair in there but I hope this works anyway#leverage#leverage fic#leverage ot3
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bitter - p.p.
summary: you worked your whole life for this, and peter parker took it away without a single second thought.
word count: 2.5k
warnings: a bit of swearing but for comedic effect i swear
authors note: this is my first (and most likely last) time writing. if its not good blame my C in english <3. this idea randomly came to me in the middle of the night and i though i’d give it a shot. shoutout @hollanderheart for not only motivating me to write and post this but also being my own personal hype woman at all times. enjoy!!
---
You had never had a solid reason to hate Peter Parker. He was smart, quiet, and always kind to you and everyone around him. You thought he was a nice boy, and never had a problem with him. Until now.
Until Peter fucking Parker stole your internship.
The news was initially broken to you through hallway gossip. Not believing the story, you went straight to the only person who you knew wouldn’t feed you bullshit, MJ.
“Did Peter get the Stark internship?” You practically screamed. MJ turned, stunned from your sudden close proximity and your wide, questioning eyes. Closing her locker after grabbing the books she needed for her next class, she answered, “Yeah, he’s had it for like a week, why?”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Your back hit the lockers and you rubbed your face in frustration.
“Well, I didn’t know you were so invested in Peter’s business all the sudden,” she quipped, not realizing you weren’t in the mood based on the death glare you returned.
“You realize I’ve been working on getting that internship for like, my whole life right?” You scoffed and let your head fall back and hit the locker.
“It must’ve slipped my mind, my bad.” she replied coolly.
You groaned, “I can’t believe Peter Parker just destroyed my future.”
“I’m gonna sit this breakdown out, I have to study for my Calc test.” She gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before making her way to the library.
There you stayed, leaning on the lockers frozen with solitude, or was it anger? You couldn’t quite tell.
The rest of the morning passes with a breeze, just going through the motions of your daily routine without even thinking. Everything just felt numb. The final bell rang, allowing you to get away from the possibility of making any contact with Peter. The hatred you held for that boy was unimaginable.
The internship at hand was a once in a lifetime experience. The September Foundation Internship. One high school junior, hand picked by Tony Stark himself, was hired to work alongside the mastermind for an entire year. Rumors claim that if you’re cool enough, he lets you try on the suit. Others claim that if you stay late enough, you can see the Avengers in their daily lives. But no one has ever been able to verify them. Now meeting the Avengers would be cool and all but that's not why you wanted this internship. By featuring this on your applications, it was basically one way ticket to acceptance.
To any school. Anywhere.
Though your resume may be long winded, having the internship on there puts you ahead of any other student there. And if you were trying to get into MIT, it definitely wouldn’t hurt to be friends with an alumni. A very prevalent alumni who donates large sums of money each year.
What irked you the most was that you didn’t even get a letter of rejection. You had to find out through gossip. Like really? How long does it take to write an email?
Hey sorry you sucked so much that you didn’t get the internship. Better luck next time!
XOXO Iron Man :)
Sure, Peter Parker was a hard worker with a big brain but there was no way he was more qualified for that job. You had hundreds of hours of community service, a spotless report card, professional relationships with many prominent authoritative figures, and you participated in extracurriculars that Peter hadn’t even heard of. So how did he get in over you? Sure he has marching band, academic decathlon and robotics but in no way could that ever put you a step above him. It’s not like he’s some sort of superhero saving lives.
The fact that you couldn’t come up with a single thing that could make him stand out over you annoyed you to no end. The internal conflict occupied your brain for almost a week until you decided to confront Peter.
You spotted him in the cafeteria, laughing with Ned acting like he did absolutely nothing wrong.
Oh boy did he have it coming.
“So how’d you do it?” you accused, slamming your lunch tray down and sitting down across from him. Ned scootched away suddenly uncomfortable with your closeness and accusatory voice. Since becoming official with Betty, he knew how women’s emotions worked (to an extent) and he knew that tone did not mean sunshine and rainbows.
“W-What are you talking about?” he squeaked, confusion written all over his face. His eyes bouncing all over your features as if it would help predict what you were going to say to him.
“The September Foundation Internship,” you started with a calmer tone, “How’d you beat out all 5000 candidates, including yours truly?” You smiled innocently, but Peter knew that look meant anything but.
He looked around for a second, coming up with absolutely any excuse to satisfy your jealousy, “I did- I didn’t ask Mr. Stark so- so I really don’t know.” He turned to Ned widening his eyes as if sending a telepathic call for help. Ned frantically shook his head, not wanting any part of his problem. He deals with enough angry teenage girls as it is, he wouldn’t voluntarily put up with any more than he needed.
Peter panicked, spouting out the first thing that came to mind, “Well in my application I-I mentioned that I like to build LEGOS, so I guess Mr. Stark assumed I’m good with my hands?” uncertainty prevalent in his voice. He visibly winced at that poor excuse of reasoning.
You were surprised, “Oh, ok. Thanks Peter,” getting up to move towards your typical spot in the cafeteria.
“Real smooth, bet you really fooled her there,” Ned teased his friend, noticing the concern on his face, “What was I supposed to do? Just casually mention I’m Spider-man? She wouldn’t believe me!” Peter weighed.
LEGOs.
A toy that was meant for children beat you out. Embarrassed was an understatement. You played with Barbies and Polly Pockets! You even played with the sexist “girly” version of LEGOs! Granted you probably haven’t picked up a toy in maybe 10 years but still! That just isn’t fair.
---
“Mr. S-Stark could I have some advice?” Peter was quite literally shitting his pants with nervousness.
Tony looked up from his blasters he was tinkering with, “I mean you can ask but I can’t guarantee I can be your Dalai Lama” he taunted.
“Um okay well,” Peter gulped, “This really pretty girl at my school is mad at me and I don’t know what to do”
Tony was stunned, “Girls talk to you? And you hold a conversation? Congrats kid you’re growing up!”
Peter was embarrassed, “Well, not exactly. You know that internship you host every year?” His hands were shaking from nervousness, so he dropped his web shooters and clasped them in his lap so Tony wouldn’t notice. But of course he did, setting down his blasters and turning his chair to put his complete focus on Peter.
Well that totally makes this conversation easier!
“Of course. But I’m not giving it to you. I spend enough time with you already as it is.”
That helped ease his stress, “Well to cover for Spider-Man I just tell everyone I do the Stark internship, forgetting that there is a real internship. So this girl applied for the September Foundation Internship and is mad because she thinks I took it from her. But that's crazy because she's like the nicest person and worked so hard for this internship and there is no one I know that is more deserving of the spot and-,” Tony cuts him off, knowing the boy could ramble for days.
“What’s her name?” He questions, “Y/N Y/L/N, But I’m not asking you to like give it to her because that’s not fair, just give her a tour of the tower or something for her to finally realize I’m not that important around here,” Peter justifies.
“I’ll see what I can do.” With that, he walked out of the lab.
---
You’ve accepted the fact that you didn’t get the position and have continued to build your resume, filling in the space you left for the internship.
“Mr. Harrington? Flash isn’t here today so do you want me to do the lab alone?” You asked, grateful your annoying lab partner isn’t there attempting every pick up line in existence on you. Each one followed up with a denial and you completed the lab on your own.
“No,” Mr. Harrington said. “Ned’s partner isn’t here either so you can pair up with him.”
Begrudgingly, you stood up to join Ned at his lab table. Curious you ask, “Who is your partner?”, Ned hesitates in his answer, “Oh, Peter is busy with the Stark internship.”
Nevermind. Any progress of acceptance you thought you’d made was gone.
“Oh, okay.” You ended the conversation knowing you couldn’t handle dwelling on your failures any longer.
You would’ve been able to juggle the internship and school. Peter can’t even stay a whole day of school without leaving. This was just another reason why you were more qualified than him.
-
Peter was just arriving at Avengers tower to talk to Mr. Stark about how he altered his web shooters to increase the output of webs. He took the elevator up, assuming he would just be in the lab like he always is. And he was there, just not alone. He catches their attention when walking in, embarrassed to be seen so caught off guard.
“Ah Peter! So good to see you! I want you to meet our newest intern, Y/N Y/L/N!” Tony smirks at the boy whose eyes are blown wide staring at the girl in front of her.
“H-Hi Y/N. C-congrats on the internship.”
“Thank you Peter.”
“Well I have to go check on Cap, he gets angry when he doesn’t have his green smoothie. You guys get comfortable with each other! But not too comfortable, I don’t need to see any angsty teenager lovers in my presence.” Tony winked at Peter before he left the lab.
“Well that's awkward,” the girl begins, “I think I just stole your job.”
“Wh-what?” his eyebrows knitted together.
“Well you’re always gone for the Stark Internship so I just assumed it was the September Foundation Internship?” Now they’re both confused, clearly Mr. Stark wasn’t clear on Peter’s affiliation with him.
“N-no I just do a different intern job for Mr. Stark. I-I just clean up the lab.”
He has really gotta pick up his excuse game.
“So you’re a janitor?” She frowns.
“N-no I just make sure it’s tidy for Mr. Stark, organize the supplies and order more when he needs,” Peter stuttered.”
Ok now he's improving with his justification skills.
“Oh ok? Well I have to go, I have a charity thing.” You made a solid attempt at cutting the tension between you both..
---
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
Tony spins his chair, spotting Peter at the entrance. “Well I reviewed her application and you were right, she does deserve it. Plus, I know how you struggle with the ladies, so in a way I was throwing you a bone, whilst still getting a prodigy by my side.”
His jaw set, “I’ll have you know I am perfectly good with the ladies and don’t need your help,” Peter stormed out of the lab like a toddler.
“That’s not what you said in the lab the other day!” He calls after him, knowing full well he was out of earshot.
---
Peter has never felt so relieved than when the quinjet touched down on the top of the building. The mission was a complete disaster. If he had to explain the definition of “abort mission” he’d probably start with that.
After stepping off the quinjet, Peter made a beeline for the kitchen. His throat scratched every time he swallowed, probably from yelling into the coms trying to navigate through the pure chaos.
Passing by Wanda, he could tell by her facial expression he wasn’t in good shape. He could feel the dried blood stuck to his skin and the smell of sweat was unavoidable from even 10 feet away.
After his five minute walk, which would be better described as a limp, he made it to just get a glass of water. Finally, the rush of moisture runs through his whole body. Whilst peacefully chugging his entire cup of water he hears the sound of glass shattering, followed by the words,
“What. The. Fuck.”
He knows the voice from anywhere. Hell, he hears it on the morning announcements with Betty every goddamn morning. Frozen, he doesn’t know what his next move is. Does he run and act like it never happened? Does he just accept it and brush it off like no big deal? His rough draft of an explanation is slowly being put together in his head when you move in front of him.
“You’re not an intern. You’re fucking Spider-man.”
“O-oh hey Y/N, didn’t see you there”
Real smooth Parker. Why don’t you talk about your LEGO skills again. Just try and see if you can make this conversation any more awkward than it needs to be.
“Cut the bullshit. Why didn’t you tell me?”
She always knows how to get straight to the point. Something he always admired about her.
“I-I-I didn’t think it was important?” The apprehension isn’t helping his persuasion skills in the slightest.
“Oh being an Avenger is just a common occurrence nowadays?” You push, determined to get a real answer and not a half assed excuse.
“I mean if you live around here yeah everyone is some kind of super hu-”
“Peter.” You cut him off, annoyance obvious in your tone.
He sighed, “Yes. I am Spider-man. The only people who know are Ned, Aunt May, and the rest of the Avengers. And now you.” Distress was obvious on his face
You began to feel guilty once you saw the panic on his face, “I won’t tell anyone,” you squeak, the first drop of sympathy Peter has ever received from you.
“Thank you, I’m sorry for not telling you. You’re part of the team and deserve a real confession, not finding out by accident.”
The guilt train is on a two way track tonight!
“No, it was your secret. You deserve your privacy.” A small smile tugged at the edges of your lips.
“Thank you for being so understanding. Now that the secret is out maybe we could work together on my suit sometime?”
Peter is nervous. Why is he nervous? Did he just accidentally ask her on a date. Oh god what if she isn’t interested?
“I’d love to Peter! It's a date!” Your smile beaming gave Peter a surge of confidence, and he reached around your waist to pull you into a hug. You were both ecstatic to have finally started to see each other as friends, and even a little more than that.
Your trances were broken when you finally spoke up, “Maybe you should take a shower first,” as you finally realized the stench in your close proximity.
A flush creeping up his face when he realized. “Let me go shower then we can continue this,” he beams.
“See you then Spider-man!”
#peter parker#peter parker x reader#peter parker fic#peter parker fanfic#spider-man#spider-man fic#peter parker imagine
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Educated: A Clyde LoganxReader Story (1/5)
This is my first time posting on Tumblr something that i’ve written- Ah! Please let me know what you think. Thanks for reading.
No warnings
Chapter 1
“I am going to go down to that damn school and…” Jimmy Logan yelled before his brother Clyde interrupted him with his slow, southern drawl.
“Now Jimmy, we both know that ain’t gunna be good for Sadie. Ya’ just need ta calm down.” Clyde said, placing a hand on his older brothers shoulder to calm him down.
“Like hell imma calm down. My little girl has a broken arm because of that school! That teacher shoulda been watchin’ them kids better. What kind of…” Jimmy muttered, shrugging off Clyde’s hand. Clyde was glad that it was only Jimmy, Nancy (his head waitress) and himself in the bar at the moment, relieved that he wouldn’t have to explain Jimmy’s outburst to any customers. Jimmy, Clyde, and Nancy had come in early to do some maintenance around the place. Right as they were getting ready to get started, Jimmy had just received a call from his ex-wife Bobbie Jo saying that their daughter, Sadie, had broken her arm at school playing on the playground.
“It ain’t no ones fault. Kids are gunna be kids and accidents happen’.” Clyde said, trying to appeal to his brother’s logical side, but he already knew that it was too late for that. He sat down the glass he was cleaning and looked at his brother.
“Fuck that. My baby is sitting in a hospital because of someone in that school and I’m gunna let ‘em have a piece of my mind. Plus Bobbie Jo said I needed to run by the school and get Sadie’s backpack and stuff that got left behind.” Jimmy stood up with a jerk, moving towards the door. Clyde smoothly made his way around the bar, stopping Jimmy in his tracks.
“Right now Sadie needs ya’ at the hospital, she don’t need ya’ goin’ up to her school and causin’ a fuss. Plus ya don’t even know what happened so you don’t even know who to be mad at. Iffin’ it will make ya feel better, I’ll go on down to the school, get ‘er stuff and ask what happened while ya go on down to the hospital” Clyde said, seeing his brother calm for a second, processing his words. Looking over at Nancy, he saw her nod her head. She would often cover for Clyde when he need to run out.
“I know its someone’s fucking fault at the school so you better make sure you let them know how angry I am” Jimmy said through gritted teeth.
“Give Sadie a hug for me, let ‘er know I’ll teach ‘er the ways of managin’ with one arm.” Clyde smirked, hoping to make his brother chuckle but Jimmy was already almost to his car, muttering angry thoughts under his breath. Clyde sighed and followed, making his way to his truck.
Luckily the drive to the school wasn’t too bad, only about an hour or so. Jimmy had been real pleased when Moody and Bobby Jo had moved back after living in Lynchburg for a few months. It made it a lot easier for Jimmy to see Sadie, which meant Clyde got to have a better relationship with his niece. He had been to her school a few times in the months she had been back in the area; a school play and her end of year awards ceremony but he hadn’t been there this school year yet.
About halfway to the school he realized he had no clue who her teacher was this year. He tried to think back to the last time he had seen Sadie and was talking to her about the beginning of the school year.
“Hey hey Sadie Lou.” Clyde remembered saying as Sadie ran into his trailer and threw her arms around her uncle a few weeks earlier.
“Hi Uncle Clyde,” she said, sitting on his lap. “Guess what?”
“What?” Clyde replied, not that it mattered to Sadie, who had kept chattering over his response.
“I baked you some of my ultra famous toasted s'mores cookies.” Sadie said with a huge smile.
“Well thank ya’.” Clyde said, giving his niece a squeeze. “Them are my favorite.”
“I know! They are also my teacher’s favorite, Ms. (Y/L/N). I made them for her because I want her to like me. She is the prettiest, nicest teacher in the whole school and I want to be her favorite.” Clyde chuckled, his niece always had been a people pleaser thats why she always did so well at those pageants she liked doing.
“I ain’t believing for one second that that you needed cookies to be ‘er favorite.” Clyde said, tickling Sadie. “Yer sweet ‘nuff on yer own.”
“Uncle Clyde…” She said as she giggled and squirmed in his lap. “Stoppppp.” Clyde chuckled as he tickled her a bit more, her daddy coming to help him as they both made her laugh. He hadn’t thought much about that conversation until now as he was heading to go meet this Ms. (Y/L/N). Feeling the heat rush to his face, Clyde started to get a little nervous.
There were many things that Clyde Logan was good at. He was good at being a brother and an uncle, he was good at running a bar and making drinks, and he was excellent at making a mean plate of nachos, just to name a few. However, there was one thing that he was not good at, and that was talking to pretty women. For as long as he could remember Clyde had always been the shy brother. Mellie and Jimmy could talk to just about anyone, but he couldn’t seem to to steady himself when he was around someone who he found attractive. Sure, behind his bar counter, he could talk to the customers who came to order drinks, but when it came to being on his own he couldn’t seem to get his thoughts organized.
Clyde sure was hoping that this teacher wasn’t as pretty as Sadie made her out to be, because if she was Clyde was in for an awkward afternoon.
Clyde showed up to the school just as the students were being let out. He parked in the front parking lot, waiting a few minutes for all the students, buses, and cars to clear out. Seeing the place finally look a bit calm, he made his way out of the truck and went to the door. He was let into the office where he explained he needed to pick up Sadie’s stuff and talk to her teacher. The office checked Sadie’s file and saw that he was identified as her uncle. This meant that they were able to give him information about Sadie’s class and they pointed him in the direction of Ms. (Y/L/N)’s classroom, room 152.
He walked slowly down the hall, trying to calm himself down before he met Sadie’s teacher. Picturing his 3rd grade teacher, the terrifying and strict Mrs. Appleton, he tried to convince himself that he was going to see someone who looked like her instead.
However, when he made his way into room 152, he knew he was definitely wrong. He peered around the door frame and saw an absolute angel sitting at the teacher’s desk. Her eyes were focused on the paper in front of her, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as she examined the words in front of her. She had brown hair that was hanging in her face, that she was absentmindedly twisting between her fingers. He felt almost breathless, watching her so focused, so intensely studying the piece of paper. It made him want to study her that way, watching how her eyes danced across the page and how her face reacted to the things she was reading.
Suddenly she looked up from the paper. Obviously she wasn’t expecting 6' 3” Clyde Logan to be standing at her door, so when her eyes met his she jumped with a surprised “Oh” slipping from her lips.
“Uh, sorry to uh, scare you ma'am.” Clyde said, taking a step into the classroom.
“No! I’m sorry. I was a bit too focused. I was trying to read a story one of my students wrote and unfortunately, I can’t read a single word of their handwriting.” Ms. (Y/L/N) said with an embarrassed chuckle.
“No worries ma’am.” Clyde said, his cheeks flushing red as she flashed him a smile.
“Hi. I’m Ms. (Y/L/N), or (Y/F/N). What can I help you with?” She said, standing up and walking over to Clyde, extending a hand. Clyde stuck his hand out, his prosthetic arm hidden slightly behind him. Her hand was soft, much softer than his hands. They also felt much smaller than his own. She smiled at him again and he felt his stomach fill with nerves.
“Uh. I am Clyde.” He said, pulling his hand away from hers before she could feel how clammy it was beginning to get. They stood there in an awkward silence before he realized that he probably needed to explain a bit more. “I mean, I’m Clyde Logan, Sadie’s uncle. I uh, came to get ‘er stuff.”
“Oh gosh, yes! Poor Sadie. The kids were playing at recess and she fell off the jungle gym. I haven’t been working here long, but I’ve told the principal that they need to get rid of that thing. It’s old and too high.” The teacher said as she walked over to some shelves in the room and grabbed Sadie’s backpack. She continued to talk about the incident, giving Clyde all the details of what happened but Clyde was distracted. He followed her with his eyes as she walked around collecting Sadie’s things and writing her a note. Clyde felt like he couldn’t breath, the way that her hair danced across her shoulders and the way her mouth moved as she talked making him feel like he couldn’t think clearly. Suddenly he realized that the room was quiet and that Ms. (Y/L/N) was looking at him expectantly.
“Huh?” He said, clearing his throat. His cheeks flushing with embarrassment again.
“I asked if I could send some cards the kids made her. I was hoping you could give them to her when you drop off the backpack. I also wrote her a little card myself.” She said with a smile, walking towards Clyde with the backpack and a stack of white papers.
“Uh, yeah…” Clyde mumbled. “I can do that.” He fumbled for a moment, trying to grab the backpack and the cards. Eventually he had to put the straps over his prosthetic arm, and grab the cards with the hand. He felt his face turning a bright shade of red, and he tried to make a quick exit towards the door.
“It was very nice to finally meet you Mr. Logan. Sadie talks about her brave uncle frequently.” Ms. (Y/L/N) said. Clyde stopped, turning to look at her.
“Oh really?” Clyde said, a shy smile spreading across his face.
“She likes to write stories about you. It’s pretty cute.” Ms. (Y/L/N) said, leaning against her desk and looking at Clyde. “She makes you a superhero, saving the day. She is usually your sidekick. You’ll have to ask her to read them one day.”
“I’d like that.” Clyde said, looking at her until he felt so overwhelmed he had to look at the ground.
“Well thank you for coming to get the stuff. And also thank you for your service.” She said, quietly, before flashing Clyde a smile that made his stomach flipflop.
“Uh. Thank you. I mean, uh, yur welcome.” Clyde said, making his exit. His cheeks felt like they were on fire as he made his way down the hall and out of the school. Of course he would embarrass himself in front of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen that just happened to be his niece's teacher. There is no way now she’d be interested in a guy like him because he must have seemed like an idiot to this beautiful, educated woman. Clyde opened his truck door, slinging the backpack into the passenger seat and placing the cards on top. He leaned his head against the back of the seat, closing his eyes and trying to forget the last 10 embarrassing moments of his life.
He also felt confused because he could decide whether or not he wanted to see Ms. (Y/L/N) again. He had never had a “crush” come on so quickly like that and it made him feel like he was 15 years old again. Like he was young and not in control of his body. Feeling ridiculous and hoping that driving would clear his thought, he started his truck and texted Jimmy to let him know that he had Sadie’s stuff and was making his way back to the bar. He kind of hoped he could forget this afternoon ever happened, but he had a strong feeling that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
#clyde logan#reader insert#adam driver#logan lucky#clyde logan imagine#clyde loganxreader#clydeloganxteacher#teacher
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How do I passive Aggressively Say ‘Fuck You’ In Flower
Possible Triggers: Swearing
word count: 3058
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Eli’s eyes scanned over the words of the gardening magazine he was reading. He wasn’t necessarily processing them but he knew that if Nicolette found out she’d scold him for not trying. Which was completely fair, he wasn’t trying. He just needed extra money. The only thing that seemed to catch his interest was the flower meanings but last time Nicolette caught him reading the same book on flower meanings she said that if he didn’t learn how to pot a plant he’d be dead, and he really couldn’t afford to die with his scholarship on the line. So sitting behind the counter of a flower shop it was. A flower shop that was mainly just him sitting at a counter reading about how to actually take care of a plant. He may be learning how to save human lives but for the sake of all, you hold dear don’t let him plant sit. Nicolette was teaching him, but it was difficult for him to catch on.
Honestly, as much as Eli wanted to have a plant, to be able to say he had a son named Carl who was actually just a mason jar with a small cactus sitting in it, he just didn’t understand why they needed to be so high maintenance. It didn’t make sense. He could take care of a rabbit but not a fucking shrub. Eli heaved a sigh and pushed his glasses up his nose. He was bored beyond belief and was extremely relieved to hear the bell above the door jingle. He sat up.
“Mr.davidson we just got- oh” Eli was expecting the same old man who came on every day to get a flower for his wife, but instead it was a really cute boy. The guy looked to be about his age with feathery black hair and annoyed brown eyes. He looked upset. He had on platform boots, pale blue jeans, and a black t-shirt with a simple doodle of a mountainscape. He had a set scowl on his lips as he walked up to the counter, leaning against it.
“How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in a flower bouquet?’ he asked with an indignant tone. That question had definitely caught Eli off guard.
“Uhm,” he thought about it “meadowsweet flowers mean uselessness”
“That’s a bit harsh don’t you think?” the guy questioned
Eli shrugged “You’re the one asking how to say fuck you in flower.” Eli bit his lip and thought for a moment “I do think I can arrange a bouquet to say that though. Unless you just want orange lilies. They mean hatred. That’s close enough right”
The corner of the guy’s lip twitched but it went away as soon as it appeared. “Tell me about the bouquet oh wise flower boy”
Eli let himself smile at him “Well it has meadowsweet, which as I already said, mean uselessness. Foxgloves mean insincerity, Geraniums -- stupidity, yellow carnations-- you have disappointed me and the orange lilies.”
The guy considered that “would you get that for me flower boy?”
Eli chuckled “Sure thing sir,” he said, stepping from behind the counter, “would you like a card with that?” he asked as he grabbed the Geraniums.
The guy propped his head on his hand, still leaning on the counter “sure. I’ll let you fetch my bouquet of doom while I think of what to put”
Eli nodded and shuffled around picking out the nicest flowers he found for this special boy, even if his bouquet was less than friendly. Once he had gathered all the flowers, he grabbed a sheet of paper to wrap them up. No matter how many times Nicolette had taught him how to wrap them he always messed up, but this time it didn’t quite matter for this bouquet of pissed off glory. He looked up at the man who wanted the flowers. He had a teasing smirk on his face as he watched Eli struggle to wrap the flowers.
“And the card?” Eli asked
The guy’s smirk only grew as Eli grabbed a small card and pen that had a paper flower on the end. “Dear dad” he began “Fuck you, I don’t need you anyway. I’m 22. Signed, Damien” he said, sounding satisfied. Damien huh? Eli went to write that down but after the first few letters he looked up.
“What?”
“You heard me,” the guy looked at Eli’s tag “Elijah?”
“Just call me Eli. Jesus, what did your dad do to you?”
Damien shrugged “Disowned me. I should’ve seen it coming”
Eli finished writing and stapled it to the paper, binding the flowers “Then I guess he deserves this bouquet. Wanna throw in some butterfly weed.”
“Depends oh wise flower sage. What does it mean?”
“It means ‘leave me’. Kinda like fuck off”
The man considered this and nodded after a pause “By all means throw it in.”
Eli laughed a bit and once again left the counter space, walking to the left side of the store. He grabbed two butterfly weed flowers and slid them into the bouquet. “Anything else?”
Damien shook his head “Nope. That’s it.”
Eli quickly rang up the guy for his flowers and scribbled his number on his receipt writing, “tell me how it goes >:D”
Damien inspected his receipt for a moment and caught Eli’s eyes when he looked up. He had a mischievous grin plastered on his face
“Sure thing blondie,” he said pocketing the receipt
Eli chuckled “He deserves a worse bouquet but unfortunately I don’t think you want to accidentally send him a death threat”
A chuckle sounded from Damien and he nodded “Yup, don’t want any police at my apartment.” he paused for a moment “thanks Eli”
Eli nodded in response “It’s my job. Your bouquet was fun though”
Damien laughed “I can only imagine.” he glanced at the clock on the wall “Shit I’ve got to get going” he muttered and then turned back to Eli “I’ll text you”
Eli nodded “You better. Now get to where ever you need to go”
Damien nodded and ran out of the shop yelling “TO MY DAD’S HOUSE”
Eli was leaning behind the counter tapping his fingers on the wooden surface. The door to the flower shop was cracked open so a cool breeze swept through. Spring had arrived. Spring meant more flowers. More flowers that Eli had already planted. Now he was sitting bored, wishing no one, in particular, would walk through the doors with his black fringe and platform boots. As soon as he thought about him his heart lept. Footsteps echoed across the tile of the shop and Eli’s eyes shot up.
“Damien-” he was sad to realize that this time it was Mr.Davidson. “Good afternoon Mr.Davidson how can I help you?” he asked lazily
Mr.Davidson was a cheery only man with blue eyes and shiny white hair. He smiled at Eli.
“Hello, Elijah,” he said happily with a sweet smile. He adjusted his tan cardigan over his shoulders “I’m looking for some tulips. Those are in season aren’t they son?”
Eli walked out from behind the counter. He couldn’t help but smile at the short, happily go lucky old man, “they sure are sir. Are you looking for seeds this time around or just flowers?”
Mr.Davidson glanced around the shop as he contemplated, “well, I think I’ll get flowers.” he looked back to Eli, “Now, do you know what those signify, Elijah.”
Eli nodded as he led Mr.Davidson over to their tulip selection “Perfect love,” he answered wistfully, “it’s awfully sweet that you’re getting these for your wife sir.”
The old man looked at the flowers “Well I love her and feel she deserves them” the old man said, “I think I’ll get a bouquet.”
Eli sighed “Do you want me to wrap those for you?” he heard another set of steps enter the shop and looked over his shoulder to see Damien. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks as Damien met his eyes “I’ll be with you in a minute.” he squeaked.
Mr.Davidson raised an eyebrow at Eli “You don’t need to wrap them. I do think that you like that boy over there though.”
Eli flushed more, and he looked away ash he started to pick out flowers. He made sure nothing was amiss and cut the stems, handing the flowers to the old man.
“Thirteen dollars even,” he said holding the bouquet out to the old man who smiled and happily handed sawyer fifteen dollars
“Keep the change,” he said before walking out. Eli waved to him and turned to Damien
“Sorry I’m once again the only one working. Sawyer’s got a stomach bug.” he walked up to him and smiled “What vengeful bouquet do you need this time”
Damien chuckled “How do you say: Sorry, you’re not my type in flower”
Eli raised his eyebrows “Ooo did someone ask you out?” he said wiggling his shoulders up and down, pretending like that didn’t make his heart sink to the floor.
“Yeah” Damien replied starting to walk around the shop “She’s my math tutor. Name’s Nicolette.”
Eli practically choked on air and Damien turned to him with an alarmed expression as he started laughing.
“She’s-” Eli put a hand over his mouth and laughed a bit more “She’s my boss, dude! I can’t believe you rejected her she’s so cool. Scary, but cool.”
Damien’s eyes widened “Well, it’s not my fault I like guys!”
The boy in the floral apron paused for a second. Damien was gay? Eli turned his attention back to Damien. “Yeah, okay. Fair point.”
Damien crossed his arms and looked protective of himself. Eli faltered when he realized why.
“Hey don’t worry. I’m gay too. I happens to the best of us” he nudged Damien’s shoulders “I think I know a flower that will work. Do you still want to be her friend?” Eli asked, changing the subject.
Damien looked at him with an expression Eli couldn’t discern. He uncrossed his arms. “Well, yeah. I do. She’s a good tutor”
Eli smiled at him, “She’s good at math!” he said cheerfully “I think yellow roses would fit perfectly. They signify friendship.”
The other boy nodded
“I could throw in some pansies” Eli added as he started to gather the yellow roses “Pansy was a name given to flamboyant gay guys like a hundred years ago
Damien snorted “that’d be great actually.”
Soon enough Eli was back behind the counter, facing the challenge of wrapping flowers. He heaved a heavy sigh and grabbed the paper.
Damien looked at him and smiled. “Do you want help there, flower boy?”
Eli looked up and bit his lip “Well, um”
Damien just chuckled “of course you do.” he said and then he walked behind the counter. He got way to close for what would usually be Eli’s comfort zone, but he couldn’t bring himself to care apart from being a bit flustered.
Damien pulled the flowers and wrapping paper over to himself. He looked over at Eli with a grin, you forgot the tissue paper.
Eli sighed “right, right” he grabbed a yellow piece of tissue paper and handed it to Damien who took it gratefully. The boy in black put the tissue paper under the flowers (but over the wrapping paper) and began to fold the paper.
As much as the silence was comfortable, Eli didn’t want that. He wanted to talk. So he did.
“So what’s with the platform boots?” He asked “You’re taller than me now, and I’m 5’10”
Damien looked over at him “I’m also 5’10. I just like to feel tall” he said with a shrug going back to folding the flowers “they’re only adding like three inches to my height and I’m 5’9”
Eli smiled “I’m taller than you?” he asked leaning against the counter.
Damien rolled his eyes “I guess so. Good thing I never take off these shoes. I’ll always be 2 inches taller if I can help it.”
Eli smiled “What color ribbon do you want to tie it off with?” he asked, sitting up straight.
Damien shrugged “surprise me, flower boy.”
Eli nodded and opened the drawer under the counter that held the ribbon. He grabbed green and cut off what Damien would need.
Damien tied a neat bow “Easy,” he said holding the flowers up. He looked over at Eli with a grin “no offense though”
Eli snorted “yeah okay.” he said, rolling his eyes. There was a moment of silence between them and Damien smelled the flowers and smiled. Eli felt his heart do a somersault.
“I’ll pay for the flowers” he blurted out.
Damien’s head snapped into Eli’s direction “really?”
Eli nodded hastily “yeah, I mean, you did wrap them. It’s how I’ll repay you.”
Eli could’ve sworn he saw Damien’s cheeks flush before he ducked his head away for a moment. Eli chewed on the inside of his cheek.
“You’re an angel thank you,” he said.
Eli nodded “of course. Anything for a-” as Damien walked past him, he kissed Eli on the cheek and Eli stopped talking.
“I’ll see you soon Eli. I’ve gotta go” he said before walking out of the store. Eli stood in his place, feet glued to the ground as blood rushed to his cheeks. Did that just happen?
Eli hummed a tune idly to himself fanned himself with a magazine. He didn’t have much to do anyway. Classes were out and summer was in full swing. People came and went from the shop but Eli didn’t care. He was just excited that a certain someone was going to stop by. He had been texting Damien the night before who said that he needed to pick up some flowers. They had been texting a lot recently, but they never got the chance to meet up in real life. Between Eli’s classes and the job at the flower shop, he didn’t have time. Neither did Damien, he had classes when Damien didn’t. Luckily it was summer now, and they could sneak a chance. Eli wanted a different change though. He didn’t just want to hang out with Damien. Sure, hanging out is nice, but what Eli really wanted as a date of some kind. Maybe going to a coffee shop or a nice walk through the park. He didn’t know, nor care.
In his daydream, he had failed to notice someone walk in. The very someone he had been waiting for.
Damien snapped his fingers in front of Eli’s face who jumped. He looked up at Damien. “I hate you” he hissed with no real malice. Beside him, his co-worker, Sawyer, was laughing at him.
“You’re such a wimp sometimes,” he said, chuckling a bit.
“I’m not a wimp!” Eli fought “I’m studying to be a doctor!”
Sawyer stuck his tongue out at him and went back to texting someone on his phone.
Eli turned his attention back to Damien “that’s Sawyer” he said with a sigh, “anyway, what do you need. You didn’t cheat on someone this time did you?”
Damien shook his head “I’d never do that. I need a bouquet that means I think I’m in love with you.”
Eli froze, eyes wide with shock because, for some reason, he knew that was pointed at him. Maybe it was the blush on Damien’s cheeks or the shifting of Damien’s brown eyes.
“Well um…” he smiled at the boy in front of him “Well roses obviously stand for love, but begonia’s stand for deep thinking. Those two together could mean that you... y’know. Think you love someone.”
Damien smiled “well that sounds perfect to me,” He said sweetly.
Eli kept his eyes on Damien as he stepped out from behind the counter.
“Who are the flowers for?” he asked innocently, walking over to where the store had roses.
Damien grinned his beautiful grin “You’ll see Eli.”
Eli had grabbed three flowers but he turned to Damien “Eli? I thought I was flower boy” he said with mock offense.
Damien chuckled softly “Shut up flower boy.”
Soon enough Eli had gathered the flowers and he handed them over to Damien to wrap. “You’re good at it” he had said to which Sawyer called him a bitch for not trusting him to do it. He was getting awfully good at ruining cute moments.
Damien quickly wrapped the flowers up in red wrapping paper. He did it quickly but still managed to make it look pretty. Eli shoved him onto the other side of the counter.
“You have to pay this time,” he said with a small smirk.
Damien stuck out his bottom lip, “you’re so mean to me.”
Eli rolled his eyes as an idea popped into his head. He stuck a price barcode sticker onto the flower bouquet and scanned it.
“That’s going to be 13 dollars and a kiss,” he said cooly looking up.
Damien looked shocked but hid it quickly. “A price is a price” he replied, setting thirteen dollars on the counter. Then, in what seemed like without a second thought, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Eli’s lips to which Eli happily kissed back. They were at an awkward angle leaning over the counter, but neither of them seemed to mind. Eli easily fixed it by making them meet in the middle. Damien was the one to break it.
“I think I’m all paid up then,” he said, picking up the flowers, “they’re are for you by the way,” he said. Damien put the flowers in front of Eli once again. Eli picked them up.
“Thank you,” he said.
Damien nodded and kissed Eli one last time. “I’ve gotta go. Call me when you’re done working flower boy.” Damien winked before turning around and leaving the flower shop.
As the door swung shut, Sawyer spoke up. “What the hell just happened?” he said aloud.
Eli looked over at Sawyer and felt blood rush to his cheeks
Sawyer looked at the door and then to Eli, his platinum hair swishing with each dramatic turn of his head. “That was the smoothest shit I’ve seen.” he muttered, “You’re supposed to be an awkward baby!”
Eli laughed at Sawyer’s confusion, embarrassment fading away. He didn’t need to feel embarrassed about Damien, not now, not ever.
#gay#gay love#my ocs#Eli Nunn#Damien Lee#my story#flower shop au#flower shop#story#original character#original writing#original content#original story#gay love story#oc love#gay oc#lgbt oc
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Baby & Lucille
Square(s) Filled: Escort AU for @spnaubingo, Embarrassing First Meet for @spnfluffbingo2019
Warnings: Bitchy reader (keep reading), Charming Escort!Dean, I don’t know...it’s fluffy and sweet
Summary: Dean accidentally spills his coffee on a complete stranger, but will he get a second chance to make a first impression?
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word Count: 1645
Written for: @spnfluffbingo2019 @spnaubingo
Beta’d by: @just-another-busyfangirl, thank you for making me better
A/N: Inspired by this ask from @luci-in-trenchcoats: What if it's Coffee Shop AU but they do Embarrassing First Meeting for Fluff bingo as well (maybe erring more on the fluffy side of things)? Or Coffee Shop AU, they hit it off, but Dean knows he's supposed to end up in an arranged marriage with someone in the near future. He and reader still pursue each other but ultimately, they find out their arranged marriage is supposed to be with one another? I decided to skip the arranged marriage because these two just took me in a whole different direction. Hope you like it Michelle!
“Thank you,” Dean smiled at the barista, taking his morning Americano. He could get coffee at home, but it just wasn’t the same.
“You’re welcome,” the barista replied. “It’s always a pleasure to have you, Sir.”
“Please call me Dean, Alan. I’m just a man,” Dean argued.
“On the contrary, Sir. You are a gentleman and a scholar,” Alan countered.
Dean laughed, giving Alan a final wave. He turned to find a table when he ran into something. “Son of a b-!” His coffee went flying, the cup shattering on impact and his much needed drink splattering all over him and another patron.
“Look what you’ve done, you klutz!” the woman, now covered in his Americano, yelled.
“I’m so sorry. I should have been careful,” Dean apologized. He reached for a towel on the counter and began wiping down her expensive coat. It was nice. “Is this cashmere? I will pay for the dry cleaning.”
“Yes, it is cashmere, thank you for noticing. You have excellent observation skills for someone with no grace,” she chided. “Now, your number or a business card so that I can send you the bill?” She held out her hand, waiting.
“Oh, yeah, right,” Dean grabbed a pen from the counter and a napkin, writing down his number for her. “So sorry about this. Here you go…?”
“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N. That’s the name that will be on the bill,” she snapped, ripping the napkin from his large hand.
“Duly noted, Miss Y/L/N. Again, sorry about the mess. Have a pleasant day.” Dean took a seat at the nearest table just as Alan brought him a fresh cup. He glanced in her direction as she waited for her own drink, not able to take his eyes off her. Normally Dean was very smooth in his daily life and especially with the ladies. Never had he met a women that made him flounder like he had, despite the embarrassing first meeting. Well, at least he hoped he would see her again.
He enjoyed the spectacular cup of java while he checked his emails. A few had come in over night about a new job. He flipped through the names on the list until he landed on one that he recognized. He read over the bio.
New to town, looking for a date for company gala. No funny business. I run a fortune 500 company and do not have time for shenanigans. Must be well read and spoken. Black tie. Pick up requested Friday at 6pm. Be prompt.
There was no please, no thank you, but Dean knew he couldn’t turn this one down. He met all the requirements, but there would definitely be shenanigans, if he had a say. His finger tapped the accept button. Dean finished his coffee and whistled his way out the door.
“He better be on time. I have to arrive early. I have to make a good impression. This has to go well. What if they don’t like me?” Y/N babbled as her assistant and best friend, Charlie, placed the finishing touches on her hair and make-up.
“Y/N, you have to relax. I am sure he will be on time. He is a professional after all. And just be yourself, well, maybe a more laid back version of yourself. You tend to be a bit high strung in social situations.” Charlie laughed as she moved the last pin into place. “Voila! What do you think?”
Y/N turned and faced the mirror, stunned at the woman staring back at her. “Charlie…” Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Yeah, I know. I’m amazing. But I can only work with what I have and you are a beautiful canvas to begin with, Y/N. Breathe. Everything will be fine,” Charlie assured her. “Now let’s get you dressed!”
Dean arrived ten minutes early, pulling in front of the newly finished luxury condo building. He put the car in park and was grateful that his brother had agreed to loan him his Mercedes for the night. By the sounds of it, Y/N had high standards and he didn’t think his Baby would measure up. Which is a shame, because Baby is all class, but some people just do not have an appreciation for the classics anymore.
He stepped out of Sam’s car and entered the building. Dean was greeted by small man whom he assumed was some type of concierge. “Sir, may I help you?”
“Yes, Y/N Y/L/N please,” he answered politely.
“And whom may I tell her is calling?” the man prompted.
“Her knight in shining armor.” Dean flashed the man his million dollar smile. The man simply nodded and placed the call.
A few minutes later she entered the lobby, dressed in a fitted black evening gown that flared at the waist. The neckline was high and modest, but he had never seen a woman look more stunning. She glided toward him her hand extended as her eyes met his face.
“You?” she scoffed, skeptical that her date for the evening was the same buffoon that had spilled coffee on her earlier in the week. “I think there has been some misunderstanding, Mr. Winchester.” She pulled out her phone to call the escort service when he stopped her.
“Miss Y/L/N, there is no mistake. I know our first meeting was a disaster, but the agency paired you with me for the evening. I promise to be on my best behavior. I meet all your requirements, I assure you,” he promised, extending his elbow to her. “Shall we?”
Y/N reluctantly slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, allowing him to lead her outside. “Nice car. Pretentious, but nice.”
Dean opened the door, taking her hand as she slid into the butter leather seats. He closed her door and walked to the driver side, settling himself behind the wheel. “Thanks, but it’s not mine. I borrowed it from my brother. I didn’t think my Baby would fit your standards.” He pressed the ignition and pulled out into traffic. “Where to, my lady?”
Y/N gave him the address and he swerved through traffic, adjusting his route. “What do you mean ‘fit my standards’?”
“You’re very well put together, Y/N, and I can appreciate that. You’re a no-nonsense business woman with goals. I am a daytime mechanic and moonlight as an escort, saving enough money to buy the shop I manage. I’m college educated but I come from simple roots. I’m a grease monkey by choice and my chariot is 1967 Chevrolet Impala. Her name is Baby,” Dean explained.
“I admire your honesty, Dean. I may run a Fortune 500 but I was raised on a farm in Nebraska. I can lead a board meeting but I am not much for social functions. I prefer my ‘62 Chevy C10 pick-up. She gets terrible mileage but she was my dad’s and she’s all I’ve got left.” Y/N was quiet and gazed out the window as the city flew by.
“I’d like to meet her some time.” Dean looked over, his date quiet. “What’s her name?”
“Lucille. She’s a redhead.” Y/N giggled.
Her laughter rolled off the leather interior of Sam’s car and it was music to Dean’s ears. “So why the need for a date? You’re educated, successful and beautiful…”
“Men tend to be intimidated by all of those things. My last boyfriend couldn’t handle my success, told me I needed to slow down,” she confessed. “I told him to pack his shit. He got fired for sleeping with his assistant. I got a new job, a new condo and a fixer-upper in the country where I plan to retire.”
“You’ve got goals. I can respect that. What I can’t respect is a man who doesn’t think it’s okay for his partner to be more successful than him. Like me? I could be perfectly happy with a woman who has her shit together. I’ve got goals too, but I wouldn’t mind a sugar mama. Just sayin’!”
��Oh, is that all we are to you?” Y/N slapped him in the arm.
“Hell no! Women are strong as fuck. I’m just putting it out there that I spent the last thirty years taking care of my little brother. I would like find someone that doesn’t care if I am happier under a car than behind a desk. Success isn’t measured by board meetings or profits. It’s measured by happiness. I don’t live for dollars, I live for moments.” Dean turned his attention back to the road.
“And yet, you’re working two jobs,” she argued.
Dean thought for a minute before he acknowledged her. “Because my goal is to be my own boss so I can take the time to live those moments. Working for someone else doesn’t give the right kind of freedom, no matter the number of vacation days. Besides, I’ve already put in my notice. My loan application was approved and we close next week.”
“Congratulations!” She clapped excitedly for a man she didn’t even know. “I’m sorry for being bitchy at the coffee shop. I was really nervous about meeting my new employees and then the coffee and it-it was just a rough morning.”
“Thank you. But please don’t apologize. Let’s think of tonight as a fresh start.” Dean smiled over at her as he put the car in park. “I’m Dean Winchester.”
“Y/N Y/L/N.” She held out her hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” Dean took her hand in his and gently kissed her knuckles. “Let’s get through tonight and tomorrow, we’ll introduce our girls. I think Baby and Lucille could be great friends.”
“I look forward to that.” She smiled and for the first time in months looked forward to a day off.
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Grumpy, Part IV (FINALE) - A Harry Styles Imagine
PAIRING: Harry/Y/N
RATING: PG
WORD COUNT: 12.5k
A/N: omg did i actually finish a series??? wow.. thanks to everyone for the love and notes on this series, it’s been a blast and has improved my writing a bit too. be sure to check out my masterlist for more of my writing too!
“You should leave,” you say in a low voice.
“You’re fucking joking,” Harry scoffs, shaking his head while breaking the heartbreaking gaze between you two. Then he meets your eyes again, scowling. “Fine, this was fucking stupid to think would work anyways,” Harry almost hisses out the words to you.
Another punch to the heart. And then it breaks when he turns around, slamming your door behind him. The room is silent following his departure. You’re zoned out on the door, thinking maybe he’ll walk back in, but he doesn’t. With your heart beating hard in your chest, you wet your lips as a tear falls down your face. Slowly moving to your sofa, you hug the small pillow and let yourself cry. But after this, you had to get yourself back together and be the person Jeff knew you to be. The person he seemed to need - not the one that had gone behind his back and fallen in love with Harry.
or
The one when Y/N and Harry’s emotions are all over the place and they’re unsure how things will end.
(Find previous parts here and future blurbs too!)
⏤
Harry followed you the whole way back to your apartment. You know because anytime you glance back in the rear view mirror through the blur of your teary eyes, you’d see his Range Rover right behind you. The fact he’s willing to put up such a fight causes another sob to break from you. The heart ache you’re feeling hurts so damn much. But when you pull up to your apartment, Harry still right behind you, you wipe away your tears and continue to give Harry the silent treatment.
“Yeh really not gonna let me in?” Harry questions in a bitter voice as you unlock your door, he’s a few steps behind you. You turn around and look at him finally, his face softens at the sight of your watery eyes.
You hated everything about this. How you open your door wider for him to step inside. Then how you turn back around after he shuts the door and you take in how he looks. He’s wearing a white tshirt, it’s kinda see-through but you love the way the black ink looks under the material. His hair is just as messy as it was this morning, and it makes you want to run your hands through it and kiss his puffy lips. As you look to his lips, Harry licks them while he narrows his eyes at you. There was so much to talk about and Harry really had no idea where to start.
“Are you really going to just listen to Jeff and end this?”
“I don’t know-”
“No, Y/N, that’s just fuckin’ ridiculous!” He shouts at you, and as if something snaps inside of you, you’re shouting back at him.
“You don’t understand Harry! When Jeff mentioned how I should know better, he wasn’t just meaning it by my better judgement, he means that I’ve personally had to deal with this before,”
“You’ve seen someone on my team?” Harry questions, jealousy clear in his voice.
You roll your eyes at him, “God no, not me, you! I’ve had to fire people when you got too close to them before. Remember last year, that lovely brunette who was working with Lambert and you decided to fuck around with her for a couple weeks? Then she just disappeared? Because I had to call her into the office, I made sure there was no personal photos or videos or anything on her phone or computer and threatened that we would’ve sued her if anything got online, and then I fired her all because she was seeing you,”
“Well, that’s jealousy to a whole other level,” Harry jokes after a short pause. You only roll your eyes at him again.
“Missed the whole fucking point didn’t you?”
“Quit being such a bitch to me, this is just stupid and you know it,” Harry glares. “You’re not like that girl, hell I don’t even remember her bloody name! I fucking like you, a lot, and if Jeff wants to pull this card then I can pull one right back at him and fire him-”
“Harry, that’s enough,” you cut off his ranting and sigh. “That’s the stupidest thing you could do, we both know it,”
“Well what’s fucking stupid is that Jeff is trying to tell me who I can’t fucking date now,” Harry grumbles.
You bite your chapped lips and stare down at the carpet. This was exactly what you were dreading to happen the moment you stared to get feelings for Harry back in Sweden. Hugging yourself, you continue to zone out while remembering each little thing back at Jeff’s office. You needed this job. This job was good, it was never about getting close to Harry ever. It was about learning all you needed to know of the music business and growing from your small position. You needed to get out of whatever daze Harry had you in and think for a second. Think about yourself and your future. A future that was currently in Jeff’s hands.
“He’s right though,” you say into the silence that’s taken over the room.
“Don’t-”
“No, Harry, this was unprofessional of me and I wasn’t thinking right. I made the wrong decision,”
Harry snorts, scowling at you hard now, “you weren’t thinking right? Funny,”
“Stop, this is hard enough for me-”
“It doesn’t have to be hard! Find another job and stay with me, it’s easy!” Harry yells again.
You flinch at his words and bite the inside of your cheek while looking into his eyes. Maybe these past two weeks were all a mistake. Maybe you weren’t thinking straight because of... you didn’t want to say it, but you had gone through something so incredibly terrible and then had started seeing Harry. A small sigh escapes your lips. This is all just too much, so many thoughts running through you head while Harry stood across the room it seeming like pure anger was running through his veins.
“You should leave,” you say in a low voice.
“You’re fucking joking,” Harry scoffs, shaking his head while breaking the heartbreaking gaze between you two. Then he meets your eyes again, scowling. “Fine, this was fucking stupid to think would work anyways,” Harry almost hisses out the words to you.
Another punch to the heart. And then it breaks when he turns around, slamming your door behind him. The room is silent following his departure. You’re zoned out on the door, thinking maybe he’ll walk back in, but he doesn’t. With your heart beating hard in your chest, you wet your lips as a tear falls down your face. Slowly moving to your sofa, you hug the small pillow and let yourself cry. But after this, you had to get yourself back together and be the person Jeff knew you to be. The person he seemed to need - not the one that had gone behind his back and fallen in love with Harry.
⏤
You wake up only an hour later to your phone ringing by your head, completely unaware of when you had fallen asleep. Groggily, you sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes to see who’s calling. It shouldn’t surprise you that it’s Jeff, probably wondering how everything had gone down with you and Harry after you had left his office. Your heart breaks a little while you replay this afternoon in your head.
“Hey,” you sigh into the phone.
“Hi,” Jeff says quietly on the other line. You don’t respond, because truthfully this was all his doing anyways. “How did he take it?”
“Not well,” you answer bitterly. Jeff didn’t even care. He didn’t realize how much you two liked each other, how much this hurt the both of you. Jeff clears his throat and you hear some ruffling around in the background.
“Look, Y/N, I don’t know what was happening there but I was thinking about you, okay?” Jeff says, “if media was to get ahold of those photos or if you two were to actually be together or whatever, it wouldn’t have looked good for your career. The media would paint you out to be a whore and no one would take you seriously in this industry,”
“I, uh, I understand,” you say quietly.
“Alright, um, so as long as things go back to the way they were before whatever happened between you two, then you’ll still have your job,” Jeff exclaims.
Your stomach turns at his words, a threat from your boss wasn’t always the nicest. “Got it,” you mumble.
“Good,” Jeff sighs, “so flights at 10 in the morning tomorrow, I was going to get you to pick up Harry but don’t worry about it. A day or two apart might be for the best,” he says.
“Okay, flight details in a recent email?”
“Yes, I’m sending it out after this call,”
“Sounds good,”
“Alright, uh, have a good night,”
“You too,” you mumble before hanging up the phone and staring down at your screen afterwards. Maybe only a minute or two passes before there’s a notification on your phone that’s an email from Jeff. You unlock your phone and open it up, deciding to figure your flight out now rather than later. Speaking of, you should really start repacking your suitcase soon too. And maybe order in some food, you wanted a chocolate milkshake and a cheeseburger and napkins to wipe your tears away later too.
You furrow your brows as you look through the flight information. There had to be a mistake, but there isn’t. It has your name on the top. The destination is for Perth, Australia. But you wouldn’t be sitting with Jeff or Harry, no you’d be by yourself in economy. By no means was this you being upset over the fact you’d be downgraded from first class, it was you being upset over the fact Jeff really wasn’t taking this whole situation lightly.
After another quiet moment at staring at your phone, you decide to get up and start packing. A task would get your mind off everything. Then a shower, to stand there and think about how you were going to continue on the tour. Would you step back a bit? Would you avoid Harry and pretend nothing even happened over the past couple weeks? You sigh and wash out your soapy hair while your mind runs wild. Soon enough your in clean clothes, have everything of yours ready to go for tomorrow, and get into bed.
⏤
You woke up late. And with being in such a rush, you forgot to get something to eat. Simply getting a cup of water and a snack on the flight to London. Then from London you’re getting on the jet. If it wasn’t for Clare, Adam and Helene, you’d probably be doubling up on Gravel in order to ignore the fact Harry sat so close by. As Helene talks about her time home, you find yourself staring where he sat.
His shoulders hunched forwards as he blatantly ignores whatever Jeff, who’s sitting in front of him, has to say. Just then you see the flight attendant bring him a dark brown liquid with a cup half full of ice. Of course he’s drinking already. You find yourself swallowing a lump in your throat.
As the young woman walks away, Harry’s eyes follow after her. You can’t help it as your eyes stay trained on the scene before you. The way he turns his body just slightly in order to check her out. But then his eyes trail up and find yours. It only makes the feeling in the pit of your stomach worse - and then his eyebrows crease together and his eyes narrow, giving you a scowl before he turns back around to face Jeff. Truthfully, it feels like you could get up and go hunch over the toilet for a minute but then it passes. You had to get over this, you had to be better than this and to act professional and not let your feelings get in the way. It’s something you’d be reminding yourself of day to day from now on.
“Did you have a good break? Visit your mom I’m guessing?” Helene asks, catching your gaze, taking your mind away from the mess Harry made it. By the look on her face you guess your facial expression isn’t what she expects.
“Yeah, uh, had lunch a few times together, she’s a busy woman,” you lie. Suppose one lunch with your mom wasn’t what everyone expected. And they sure as hell wouldn’t expect for you to spend the break in bed with Harry.
“Is she doing alright?”
“Yup, just as strong as I guessed she’d be,” you nod, taking a sip of water.
“I can’t believe we’re going to Australia right now,” Clare pips up.
You smile, “and soon we’ll be in Japan,” you mention.
“Then it’ll be my turn to give Harry and the others some lessons,” she says. You nod your head, remembering the times last month that you had given Harry lessons in the languages you knew. How things are changed so much since then was really baffling to you honestly. But here you were, thinking about taking some gravel in order to survive the next 16 hours. There was no way you could do it, not even from just being so uncomfortable when flying but you’ve already checked on Harry four times since taking a seat - you needed to pass out and not think about him for a while.
“I think I’m going to take some gravel and sleep,” you tell the girls sitting around you. They all nod while you dig through your bag and find what you’re looking for.
The plane had grown quiet, the lights down low as the sun had set now. You ask for a glass of water from the flight attendant, hoping she hurries as you notice Jeff rolling his eyes at the other end of the plane. Then everyone can hear Harry’s harsh words. His voice sounding so angry, so annoyed, so bloody Grumpy.
“Shut the hell up, let me fucking live,” he growls at Jeff.
Clare and Helene share a look, then their eyes both fall back to you as you play with the few pills in your hand. You’re not sure what to do or what to say, so you just shrug your shoulders as your lips roll back into your mouth and you avoid their eyes. Thankfully the flight attendant comes back and you can’t swallow those pills fast enough.
⏤
Harry’s been in a piss poor mood for days now. He can’t seem to help it, no matter who he talked to. Hell, he even snapped at Anne earlier this morning before he went downstairs in the hotel to work out. That flight from London to Perth was by far the longest of his life. It was like it was never going to end. He didn’t care when he snapped at Jeff so many times he couldn’t count them on his hands, and he didn’t care when he glared at Adam or at Mitch or even at Helene. He wanted out of the tin can in the air that he knew you were asleep in.
He remembers getting up to use the washroom, after nearly an hour of holding it cause it didn’t want to even look at you. But then when he got up and saw you hunched up in your seat, a jumper thrown over you by one of the girls he assumed, he didn’t feel the rage like he thought he would. No, he felt his heart skip a damn beat as he took in your soft features.
Harry had swallowed whatever lump had formed in his throat and looked away from your sleeping body to head to the washroom. In the small space by himself, he found himself standing there for a bit too long after he had done his business. All he could think about was how only days ago you were falling asleep in his arms. Then Jeff opens his big mouth and he ruined it all. Harry remembers everything you had said in your apartment afterwards. How each word hurt him so much he wanted to drink it all away. So he did. Then he next morning when Jeff had to unlock his front door and poor a glass of cold water on his face - well it’s been bad blood between them ever since. And everyone else too.
Harry knew he should call back his mom and apologize for his shit behaviour. But he also knew his mom had probably caught on to whatever, cause she was that kind of mom, and he didn’t want to explain the heartbreak her son had gone through. So instead Harry pushed himself so hard at the gym he knew he’d be feeling it even later tonight during the show here in Perth.
But nothing hurt more than seeing your face. He knew you were avoiding him the best you could. He’s even sure that Jeff has taken away some responsibilities from you too - which was ridiculous, seeing as you had broken it off to work for him instead. Harry tries to keep his head down as he passes you and Helene, he’s sure you two had just woken up and had planned to get breakfast and coffee. But Helene has a better idea.
“Hey, Harry,” she says with a smile.
“Hey,” he grunts, looking up to meet her eyes. That’s when he turns to you and meets your eyes so close since you had ripped his heart to shreds. He notices how you swallow hard and blink fast a few times before inhaling deeply and looking away from his hard stare. Maybe he was scowling again, and maybe he didn’t care. You had to know how much you had hurt him.
“Did you want to come for breakfast?” Helene asks. She must be surprised to see Harry awake so early.
“Too sweaty, I’m just going to order somethin’ to my room and meet you guys later,” he explains.
“Okay,” Helene nods. Then one last time he tries to find your eyes, but you’re looking at your phone. He shakes his head a bit before jogging away from you and Helene and smacking his hand against the elevator button.
All you can think about during breakfast with Helene is how hot Harry looked. How badly you wanted his glistening skin to hold you against the back of his hotel room as his lips are glued to yours. Moving down to your neck, your chest, your... You catch yourself daydreaming about Harry before Helene can snap you out of it. She’s yapping on about some new lens she got during the break that she can’t wait to use tonight. You just sit there and smile while bringing your coffee to your lips. You were going to need another cup to last through this first day back on tour.
You had three cups of coffee and had the caffeine jitters to prove so. Jeff was on Harry duty, thank god, which put you in charge of meeting the new opening act. Suppose it wasn’t horrible to meet them while all hyped up on coffee instead of down in the dumps while daydreaming about Harry again.
“Hi, my name’s Y/N, we were emailing a couple days ago,” you say with a smile as you shake hands with the new opening act for this leg of the tour.
“Isabella, and this is the guys,” she goes off to introduce the rest of the band before moving onto their crew as well. Everyone’s so sweet, you’re smiling and laughing at their banter and you and Isabella are throwing compliments at each other every two minutes you swear. Can’t help you wore your Gucci loafers and best pair of cropped blue jeans too.
Just as you think the day’s going to be a good one, you hear something crash from the room beside the one you’re in. Everyone furrows their brows at the sound which is followed by some shouting too. You let out a short sigh through your nose and shut your eyes.
“Isn’t Harry’s dressing room beside ours?” Isabella questions.
“Um, yeah,” you pause while trying to think up what to tell these poor people who aren’t used to Harry’s tantrums - even though the past couple days have been worse than ever before. “He’s just having a really bad day,” you lie. Well, maybe it’s not entirely a lie.
“Aww,” Isabella pouts.
You can see it in her eyes as you glance her way. She feels bad for Harry, she feels pity for the mega rockstar and probably wants to make him feel better. The mere thought of her walking into Harry’s dressing room and flirting her way to his bed makes your stomach feel ill. You uncross your legs now and stand from the chair you were relaxed in for the past while.
“I should probably get back to work, I’ll see you guys around,” you say with a tight smile before turning on your heels and walking out of the dressing room. Just as you start down the hallway, the door to Harry’s dressing room opens quickly. Your heart stops at the thought of running into Harry right now in whatever state it is that’s got him so upset.
Thankfully you meet the wide eyes of Jeff, “hey,” he says as you meet his gaze.
“How’s it going?” you ask, meaning in general but Jeff knows you want the details on whats going on with Harry.
He sighs and falls in step with you towards the backstage area again. The crew is working hard in the early hours of the afternoon, getting the stage all safe and sound before dress rehearsal started up. With a smaller venue some things were a bit different, plus there was the new opening act, so a full rehearsal was on todays schedule of course. Meaning you’d have to face Grumpy eventually.
“He’s just pissed, as he has been all day,” he explains with a shrug. You fight back your frown, knowing this was all your fault in the end. “I’ll uh need you to watch over rehearsals today, take charge and give everyone notes please, I have some meetings to do,”
“Gucci?” you question, trying to switch the topic instead of frowning again from the news of you literally being around Harry this afternoon all afternoon.
“Yes,” Jeff smiles, “it’s all going down soon,”
“That’s awesome,” you nod.
“And uh, as for Harry,” Jeff doesn’t finish his sentence but his eyes and facial expression speaks for him. You swallow the lump in your throat and nod at Jeff while licking your lips. All nervous ticks.
“Everything’s fine Jeff, nothing’s going on, I’m just here to work,” you exclaim, saying the few short statements that you’ve practiced in your head.
“Okay, good,” he nods, “just uh, don’t snap at him of he snaps at you,”
“I’ve got this Jeff, been dealing with it for years,”
“And you’re the best at it,” he states with a nod.
“Yup,” you sigh and give him a tight smile as you both walk through the floor seats to watch the crew finishing the set up before rehearsals were to start up. Soon enough the opening bands manager sits down beside you and the three of you chat before Jeff has to run off.
Everything goes well during the opening acts rehearsal, they’re really not that terrible of a band to be honest. You do give their manager a few notes, knowing the look the younger guy was going to give you before you even open your mouth. Can’t help that you’ve had more experience with the world’s biggest boyband for the past five years almost before jumping onto Harry’s team as well. Therefore you knew a thing or two more about stage presence and such for a newer band like the one he’s managing.
“Hi Y/N,” Clare says into her mic as the band gets onto the stage. You’re standing just at the bottom on the stairs now, alone since the opening act and their manager had left you to go through Harry’s set.
“Hi,” you smile.
“Are you the big boss today?” Adam asks, fixing the strap of his bass.
“Sure am,” you nod. Then you glance around and don’t notice Harry anywhere to be seen. “Where’s Harry?” you question, getting ready to pull your phone from your back pocket in order to text him or maybe even Jeff if he wasn’t too busy.
The band’s all quiet. They once acted like this before, back in Harry’s worst days last year. He would be snappy and scowl at them all when they made the slightest mistake. You weren’t entirely sure what his problem was back then, maybe it was because of how busy he was, but regardless is freaking sucked to deal with. You did know his problem this time around though. It was because of you.
“Alright, well let’s just get started then,” you say while shaking your head and walking up the stairs. “Mitch, since it’s a bit smaller we have you set up on this side of Clare a bit more centre stage,”
“I don’t know how I feel about that,” he says, causing you and everyone else to chuckle.
Just as you’re checking up on the rest of the band and how they are feeling, Harry decides to grace you all with his presence. It’s so obvious, to literally anyone with two eyes, that he’s wasted. He drags his feet across the stage, hand gripping a red solo cup while his eyes are narrowed into slits. Not to mention how strong he smells of rum, you want to pout and apologize to him for making him feel like he needs to be all moody and drunk because of what happened in LA. But instead you take a deep breath and approach him.
“You really think this is an appropriate time to get drunk?” you question him.
“’Course it is,” he mutters, “but want tah know what isn’t appropriate. Oh wait, forgot it’s our little secret,”
“Harry,” you hiss out his name, thankful he’s closer to the front of the stage - maybe none of the band heard him. “Just shut up and rehearse these couple songs, please,” you order him before walking off the stage and over to the sound crew by the ‘b-stage’.
He’s scowling the entire time. While the rest of the band seems bothered, and for you it just sucks to see overall. Harry’s in such a bad mood, even worse than at the beginning of this tour before everything between you two happened, and it’s rubbing the band the wrong way. Harry barks at Adam for messing up. Mitch returns Harry’s glaring, sipping his own wine already too, while Sarah and Clare sit quietly.
“Alright, can we just do a mic check in the inner ears and then you guys are free to go,” you say loudly so your voice carries across the arena.
Each one of them say ‘check’ into their microphones a few times, you take note of how to fix them till everyone’s happy and then you dismiss them all. After a moment of talking with some crew members, you head backstage yourself to go to catering in order to finally eat something since breakfast early this morning. Hell, you might even need another coffee if Jeff was going to up your work load like this again. Just as you’re walking into catering you hear him shouting in that same harsh voice again.
“I don’t really care what your boss said, I’m your bloody bosses boss so I suggest you fucking listen to what I’m saying to you and-”
“Alright, enough,” you bark through clenched teeth while stepping up to where Harry - still with a red solo cup of dark liquid in his hand - stood fuming at a poor lady who’s working for the catering company.
“Oh fuck off,” Harry mutters and rolls his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” you say to the worker, giving her a soft look before turning back to Harry and matching his scowl. There’s no doubt that you’ve embarrassed him. Thankfully he doesn’t put up anymore of a fight and walks out of the room entirely. You so badly want to stay and let him rain his terror somewhere else, but you decide to do your job and follow after him.
At first he must not realize you’re really following him. But then as you take a few long strides to get in front of him, holding open the dressing room door for him to walk into, he obviously realizes you’re not going away. Doesn’t matter what he mutters under his breath or how hard his glares at you. You were stepping up like Jeff needed you to and were going to set him straight before the show was to get started tonight.
“Get in the shower,” you order.
“No,” Harry argues back.
“Harry, seriously, stop it,”
“Why should I?”
“Because you’re acting so unprofessional right now,” you state, crossing your arms at your chest as you watch him take a seat on the sofa.
“Oh, you’d know everything about that now wouldn’t you,” Harry strikes back after taking a long sip of his drink.
You don’t have a response. He’s got you speechless honestly. So after another moment of staring into his eyes, you shake your head and run a hand through your hair. This wasn’t going to be easy. You should have known by what he had said in your apartment those few days ago after Jeff found out. Harry was angry at you and was lashing out, but really what else would you expect of him.
“Look, Harry, I’m sorry but you need to quit acting like this complete asshole and work. Cause it doesn’t matter what happened, we’re on this tour to work,” you exclaim, unsure of how to word what you’re feeling exactly. Suppose that would have to do for now.
Harry rubs him bottom lip between his fingers, watching as you drop your arms at both sides and looking defeated. “At least you got a few good heartbreak songs out of me,” he grumbles, his voice still angry and hurt.
“Harry-” you try, but he holds up a hand and gets up from the sofa, heading away to where the showers were.
As you hear the showers start up you find yourself zoned out on the carpet beneath your feet. You had broke his heart. It was the worst thing to think of, but it was the truth. You knew it. He knew it. Hell, you’re sure Jeff might’ve put two and two together by now. Taking a deep breath, you move around to get a towel and such ready for when Harry finished up. Then you find yourself sitting on the couch hovering over your parents house phone number. Maybe talking to your mom would help distract you. You ponder it for a second and realize you didn’t just want to hear your mom’s voice, you wanted to hear your dads. You wanted it to be him that told you everything was going to work out and be fine. But you’d never hear that again.
The sounds of the water hitting the ground echoes through the room while you sit there with tears streaming down your face. It’s been a while since you’ve broken down about your dad. Suppose now’s as good a time as ever. You sniffle and bring a hand up to wipe your tears carefully - not wanting black makeup to smudge down your face. All of a sudden the door opens up and Jeff walks in, his eyes finding your own glossy ones and he gives you a somber look.
“Hey, are you alright?” he asks, walking over to sit beside you.
“Uh, yeah, I’ll be fine,” you mumble and sniffle some more. “Harry’s just drunk, he snapped I didn’t I promise,”
“You got him in the shower to sober up I’m guessing?” Jeff asks and you nod your head. “Did he say something to make your cry, Y/N?”
You shake your head this time and look up in order to keep the tears at bay. “It wasn’t really him. I just,” you pause and let out a deep breath, “I just miss my dad, a lot,” you say and let out a shaky breath afterwards.
Harry figures that you must’ve not realize he was out of the shower. He stood with the towel around his torso, his head beginning to hurt now as the cold shower helped sober him up, hiding out of the dressing room still as you and Jeff talked. When you mention your dad, Harry’s chest aches. He wants to be the one hugging you while you mentioned missing your dad, not Jeff. Fuck Jeff - he’s the whole reason Harry’s feeling this way. Making you feel as though your career is over if you were to stay with Harry, it’s right messed up. Just as Harry thinks about walking out there and saying sorry, he hears something he probably shouldn’t have.
“You’re sure you’re not like, upset about being here with Harry after everything?” Jeff asks you, being the proper ass he is.
“Yes, I’m sure. It was stupid and unprofessional. I never really liked him I don’t think, just got a bit caught up in things,” you say. You know you’re lying to Jeff, to tell him what he wants to hear in order to quit asking you about it. But Harry doesn’t know and it has him fuming.
“You mind meeting with the opening act before the show, giving them a wave off,” Jeff asks of you. And then with that you’re walking out of the dressing room and leaving Harry behind to scowl and curse at Jeff as his feelings have been hurt all over again.
⏤
“Harry wake up!” You shout through the hotel room door.
The room key in your hands shakes, well it’s your hands that are shaking. You don’t want to use the card and open up the door and see Harry in bed with some random girl. It’s now been a week since the break up, and Harry hasn’t fixed his attitude even a little. Biting on your bottom lip, you pound on the door once more and rest your hip on the frame in hopes he’ll get up and answer this time. But after a pause, another angry text from Jeff, and no response from Harry - you slowly slide the card through till the light turns green.
One deep breath to try and prepare yourself, and you already feel ill from the sight of liquor bottles along the floor. Jeff’s going to love knowing his hotel bill was about to go up. You sigh and step around to get to where the bed was. God must be on your side, cause he’s laying there on his tummy alone. You stare, deep in thought, and watch as he sleeps there.
He could’ve still had someone over. They could have been one of the smart ones that left before Harry woke, knowing they weren’t anything more than an one night stand. Your stomach turns at the thought. Regardless of everything, did not mean you just suddenly didn’t have any feelings left for Harry. You always would, and maybe that would affect your days of work throughout the future but you hoped it didn’t most days.
“Harry,” you call out his name loudly.
You see his eyes squint before he’s rolling around. Of course the blanket doesn’t stay around his hips. The sight before you only further your thoughts of him having a guest over last night. You look away and shake your head.
“Harry get up! Now!” You shout, a shot of anger had filled your veins.
“Jesus fuck woman, quit yellin’” he grumbles. His voice is thick from his sleep, causing him to clear it before he moves around some more. “Don’t act all modest now, love, not like you haven’t seen my penis before,”
“Jesus Christ, Harry,” you mumble and start picking up the bottles that were around your feet. “Get in the shower or whatever, Jeff says we’re leaving in twenty,” you exclaim.
“What? You’re not gunna be nice and start my shower for me, what am I paying you for?”
You knew the jabs of you working for him weren’t going to stop anytime soon. Yet every time it felt like he physically jabs you. With another sigh and smack of bottles in the trash bin, you stand up straight and wipe your hands on your pants. Harry has sat up now at least, watching your every move it seems. You blink a few times, ignoring his nakedness and then decide to make your way to the bathroom.
If he wanted his shower started, then you’d do your job and start his shower for his stupid hangover, again… you let out a deep breath as the shower streams down into the bathtub. Pulling the shower curtain, you make sure his toiletries are set and then walk back out to see Harry hasn’t moved again and he’s still fond of staring this morning.
“Twenty minutes, downstairs,” you order before leaving his room and walking down the hallway quickly.
As you get to the elevator your realize you’re breathing heavily. Grabbing the railing inside, you focus on your breathing and try to calm yourself down. It hurt. It hurt a fucking lot. But this was how it was supposed to be, you just worked for him and maybe one day a few weeks from now everything would blow over and this would go back to normal. The elevator rings and the doors open at the lobby, Jeff immediately approaching you to make sure Mr Grumpy was up and getting ready.
Throughout these past few days you’ve been handling more business sort of things. Jeff was mostly on Harry duty, and that’s probably why he’s been drinking himself stupid each night and going out with or without anyone from the team. But you couldn’t step up. So instead you just focused on work and hid away from Harry as much as you possibly could. In fact, this morning was the first time you two had talked in two days. And what a shitty two days it had been. Suppose even the banter between you two hurt less than the silence and scowls from afar.
You wondered if this was all worth it. As Harry comes down to the lobby, ignoring you completely and bickering with Mitch over something that had happened last night, you think maybe coming back to work at entirely a huge mistake. Maybe you should just tell Jeff to help you with a job at the office till you figured something out.
“Are you feeling okay?” Helene asks, moving so your unfocused eyes met hers.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you nod and brush her off.
“You know, if there’s something you need to talk about I’m here,” she says. You give her a smile and a soft thanks before you’re walking off to the first car that would bring the lot of you to the arena.
⏤
Harry’s having another shit day. But what else does he expect nowadays? The girl he likes dumped him, continued to work for him, and now ignores his existence. He walks into the dressing room at Brisbane with his head down and hands in his jumper pocket. Since he couldn’t sleep last night and had only ordered one bottle of wine to try and slow down, he had a shit sleep and woke up earlier than he wanted - which he supposed was better than being woken up by your shouting for a second morning in a row. And now here he was at the arena before pretty much everyone else and wasn’t entirely sure of his plan.
He’s sitting upon the sofa, the dressing room feeling plain since no one has been around to set anything up just yet. At first he looks around and thinks up where he could get his hands on some liquor. But then he remembers the text his mom had sent him last night, it had been the reason he only had some wine at his hotel room instead of the night out with rum he had planned.
I’m not sure what’s got you all bothered and drunk lately, but I think you should slow it down a little okay? I love you.
Harry pulls at his bottom lip and zones out as his mind takes a trip into the darkness that’s you. He finds himself doing this a lot, thinking about you when he’s all alone. Harry first thinks about how this all started. How he fought back the smiles and the comments he felt towards you near years ago, and how he knew it wasn’t his best idea to get involved with you. He knew from day one that it would be messy. But then he got you. And just as fast, he lost you.
Harry runs a hand through his hair and ends up pulling at the ends as anger bubbles inside of his chest. Never has he felt so strongly about someone. He cannot recall the last time he hung onto someone’s words and someone’s laughter like he did with yours. He loved being around you and spending time with you doing absolutely nothing even. And yes he understood the risk of dating someone from his team, but he didn’t think he’d care so bloody much. And now, to hear from your own mouth that you didn’t even like him through those days wrapped up in each others arms. Even thinking about it broke his heart all over again.
All of a sudden the door for the dressing room opens up, and you walk in. Your heads down, responding to a text from Anne actually, while you’ve got your favourite iced coffee in hand. Harry watches you, waiting for you to notice his presence. Finally, looking up from your phone, you meet his eyes and get a little startled.
“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, heart beating out of your chest. “What are you doing here already?”
Harry shrugs, “woke up early,” he answers in a low voice.
“Alright then,” you respond then go walking off and beginning to set up the dressing room as you have many times before.
“Got a coffee for me?” Harry questions. He knows how rude he sounds, but he just can’t help it. You’ve hurt his feeling a few too many times now for him to find his nice voice.
“Nope,” you say, “didn’t realize you were going to be here.” Harry wets his lips and watches you unlock the wardrobe cases before setting up a few things on the vanity too. Harry misses the days when it’d just be you two, getting him ready for the show and picking out suits.
“Jeff isn’t feeling really good today,” you state while turning back to look at Harry, “so I’ll be dealing with you today, just try and be civil, please, and don’t go drinking a bunch we’re almost done this leg of the tour and you’ll have another break to waste away with booze,” you say, hints of annoyance laced with your words.
“Wow, you’re really asking a lot of me,” Harry breathes, rolling his eyes at you.
“Just want today to go well,”
“Don’t want to get caught up in things? Just want to work, huh?” Harry knows his questions are about to start a fight. And when your eyes narrow to slits, fire in them, he knows he had done just that.
“Fine, you want to start this then let’s get it over with,” you snap.
Harry’s leaning forward now, pushing himself to stand up as his chest heaves with anger. All the things you’ve said to him are clouding his brain as he takes a few steps towards you. How much easier things would be if Harry never felt this way about you, if this whole thing had never started and he hadn’t kissed you at Nick’s house, if he hadn’t stayed in LA over the break or held your hand on the way to the airport - he would have saved him a hell of a lot of heartbreak.
“You hurt me, I don’t understand why you think I can just go back to the way things were before that,” Harry says, shaking his head at you.
“And you think I’m fine! This isn’t always all about you, Harry,”
“Why wouldn’t you be fine? You did this! It’s obvious now that I meant nothing to you,”
“You meant everything to me!” you shout back, feeling your eyes begin to water as an overwhelming burst of feelings follow your statement.
Harry’s fuming now, “well that’s not what I’ve heard. You’ve told Jeff how what happened was a mistake and how it meant nothing so many times I’ve lost fucking count,”
“I was lying to him so that way he’d leave me alone for one stupid day and I didn’t have to talk about my feelings about you,” you explain.
The fact that Harry’s doubting how you felt about him hurts you a lot. Because you’ve never liked someone so much before, it’s never sucked so freaking much to put yourself first before. Harry doesn’t respond right away. Instead he stands there with his arms crossed as he stares you down. It feels like that fight in your apartment all over again. Both heart shattering and mind consuming. You take a deep breath and lean against the vanity.
“If you liked me so much, and it hurts you as much as it hurts me, then why did you listen to Jeff and break it off?” Harry asks the burning question before adding in a low voice, “we were so good together,” it’s something that’s been clear to him since things between you two started. He felt better, happier, and he drank much less when you were with him. The fact he realized that before Jeff or you did, well that’s just ridiculous.
“I listened to Jeff because I needed to put myself and my career first, Harry,” you state in a hard tone. It’s taking every bit of willpower to not break out right now in front of him.
Harry’s face, which was soften for only a moment as he thought about how good you guys were, hardens again at how unaffected you seemed. Like Jeff’s stupid sidekick robot. What happened to the girl he fell in love with?
“It’s just a stupid job,” he grumbles under his breath.
You are so fed up that you actually laugh at his words, throwing both of your arms up into the air while Harry looks back at you and furrows his brows. You shake your head and grab your coffee from the vanity again. This was stupid. Your job has turned into the most stupid thing ever. It made you feel like shit, it hurt you every day to see Harry, and it’s all because of the choices you made.
“Just don’t make today hard, please,” you say before walking past him and out of the dressing room.
You need to sit down and think. Just for a moment. And that’s how you find yourself in the shower room beside you dressing room. It’s not connected like at the other venues, it’s more private and exactly what you need.
You must’ve been in the shower room for an hour maybe. Standing there, leaning against the tile wall as you hear the faint sounds of the rush of the crew getting tonight underway. You maybe have another half an hour to stand here in your thoughts before you had to wipe away your tears and be the person you were here to be. To do your stupid job.
The job that brought you to Harry, you one guy you’ve actually fallen in love with. Yes, it’s taken you an hour to realize and admit it. A whole freaking hour of fighting your feelings to see that you couldn’t be here another day. After this last while in the showers alone, then going out there tonight on the last night of the Australian leg of the tour, you’d be done. You’d talk to Jeff and you’d quit and you’d be freed of the torturous days on this tour that were filled with such heartbreak it made you feel sick most days.
It had started out with you feeling sad. Waking up that next morning after Jeff finding out about you and Harry, you were still so sad while Harry was drinking heavy again and shouting at Jeff every two seconds. Then with seeing him drinking so much and being so angry, not even being Grumpy, he was just plain mean - you got angry too. His backhanded comments and his scowling, it was like a jab to the stomach each and every time. But throughout this whole week, one feeling was for sure and that was your feelings towards Harry. You loved him and it was killing you cause you couldn’t have him.
⏤
The last show here in Brisbane starts in a few hours and you’re nowhere to be seen. Jeff’s freaking out, while coughing up a lung, and the band and crew are confused and now Harry’s all worried. Maybe he should have just listened and shut up. But now here he was, walking around the venue in hopes to find wherever you’re hiding and this time he had no intentions to start a fight - this time he only cared that you were alright.
Harry stops by the closed door that leads to the showers. Leaning forward, he doesn’t hear any water - but he does hear you. You’re crying, light sounds of you sobbing alone causes a sting to his heart. It doesn’t matter how much he tried to drink away the feelings or shout out his anger to you, he still freaking loved you.
He doesn’t hesitate to open the door. And with the sound of the door opening, you hold your breath, he can tell. Turning around the corner he finds you. You’re leaning against the counter that has a couple sinks and a mirror too, cheeks wet and eyes reds while your hands shake at the sight of Harry finding you here. It makes you want to cry all over again, and you do, not being able to hold yourself together anymore.
Harry doesn’t care about the harsh words or the shouting from before, all he cares about now it what’s got you so upset. So he walks forward and inhales deeply before taking the risk of reaching out for you.
“Shhh, love, it’s okay,” Harry coos as he wraps both arms around you. He really doesn’t care if you were going to act like a bitch and push him away, he’d still hold you through the fussing - there was no way he could let you just stand in here and cry alone anymore.
Thankfully you don’t fight back. You lean into his touch, finally feeling his arms around you felt like the world wasn’t ending around you anymore. You only cry harder as your heart beats fast in your chest and you lean into the crook of his neck. You really couldn’t believe this was happening, after all the the bullshit this past week, you were really in his arms right now.
Harry grabs the back of your thighs gently and lifts you up effortlessly till your bum lands on the counter. As he leans back a bit in order to look at your face, you look down at where his hips were between your legs and sniffle. Harry sighs, lifts your chin and frowns as you avoid his eyes still. He settles for wiping the wetness beneath your eyes instead. Instantly he tries to remember the date, but it’s not the 5th of May, it’s not the one month mark since your fathers death. Not that it really matters, that could upset you and break you any day - but Harry saw you as such a strong young woman. Till he walked in here and saw you standing here crying.
Your body shakes as another muffled sob escapes your tightly pressed together lips. You shut your eyes tight and rest your chin down to your chest. Harry shuts his eyes at the sight of you upset, shaking his head slightly before wrapping his arms around you again.
“What is it love?” he asks, his voice just above a whisper.
“I can’t do this anymore,” you mumble.
“What, what is it you can’t do?” Harry can tell his voice is easing you up a little.
You sniffle and look into his eyes for the first time now. Your eyes are red, still glossy from threatening tears waiting to fall down your cheeks.
“This, I can’t do this Harry, I can’t walk around here and pretend everything’s alright because it’s not,” you cry again and hold your sweater covered hands to your face. “I thought I could do this, I thought I could get over you,”
“It’s not easy, hey? I know, I keep falling for you every single day still,” Harry whispers into your hair. That only makes you cry harder, hands forming fists at the front of Harry’s shirt and he holds you tight. God this hurt so bad, Harry thinks as he chest tightens and he has to blink back tears of his own.
“Just be with me,” Harry pleads to you again, the same words he had said only just over a week ago now maybe even closer to two. All he knows is he’s been hurting ever since. “Fuck Jeff and his ultimatums and be with me,” he says.
“I can’t just be unemployed, Harry,” you say.
“We’ll figure something out, I’ll find you another job,”
This was the conversation you two should’ve had back in LA. But instead it was screaming and fighting back and forth before he ended up leaving your house and Harry ended up working out his anger by throwing back shots all night long. He runs his fingers through your hair and lets his lips linger to your bare shoulder, pressing a tender kiss before leaning back and kissing your cheek.
“Please, Y/N,” he whispers, voicing cracking as his chest aches even more. “I swear all the angry and all the things I’ve said lately I don’t really mean, I’ve just been so hurt. I just miss you so much,” he says, admitting all these feeling aloud to you.
You let out a strangled sound, as if you’re letting go of a toxic breath you’ve been holding, and turn your head to press your lips to his. Harry doesn’t freeze for even a second, holding your head with one hand as he kisses you back. Your legs wrap around his torso tight as you put your all into the kiss, arms looping around his neck too. Harry kisses you deeply till you’re both out of breath, literally panting as you pull back. You rest your head on his chest as he hugs you again.
“Please don’t leave me again,” Harry whispers right by your ear. He can hear his pulse in his own ears, nervous that any moment now you’ll snap back into Jeff’s robot and thrash out of his hold. He can’t deal with that heartbreak again, never ever again.
You lean back and look into his eyes, noticing the glassy look to them still.
“We’re talking to Jeff this time, no sneaking around,” you demand, your tone as serious as you can muster up through all the feelings you’ve had the past hour and a bit.
“Right away,” Harry urges.
“After the show, you have to go get ready soon and that’ll be a long hard conversation,” you exclaim. Harry glances up at reflection in the mirror, meeting his own gaze as he tightens his arm around your figure and presses a kiss to your hair. This was all he wanted, you right here in his arms again.
“Only if you come and get ready with me today,” Harry says. You roll your eyes at him but there really wasn’t any other thing you’d rather do than help him pick out a suit.
⏤
Jeff sighs, “look, I figured this was going to happen eventually,”
You three are sitting in the dressing room, Harry right by your side on the couch as the talk you’ve been dreading for hours now is about to begin. You and Harry got to hide away while he got ready, stolen kisses and smiles all around till you met with Jeff before Harry got on stage. Jeff must’ve notice Harry’s change in attitude, you sure as hell did cause it was a damn good change. He was actually grinning on stage again and he kept looking to stage right in hopes to catch your watching eyes. And then after the show Harry looked right at Jeff and say ‘we need to talk’ before letting you lead the way to the dressing room.
“Then why threaten Y/N’s job and ruin the one good thing going, huh?” Harry questions, clearly holding back a bit as he glares at his manager. You reach over and place a hand over his, hoping to calm him down.
“Because I got scared, okay? Yes what I said about employee and employer relationships is true, it’s can be hard and a reputation can be slapped onto you, Y/N,” Jeff says, “but I was scared because I thought the absolute worst first, if you guys were to break up then I’d be left with the shit attitude of Harry alone and I’ve never had to deal with you without her, okay? She’s the only one who can get a damn grip on you and has been here with me since I became your manager,”
You can’t help but smile at Jeff. He was totally right, you were the only one who could handle Harry - even this past week with his worst behaviour and things being even worse between you two, he still listened to you. But only one thing made sense as to why he’d listen to you, it was because he liked you. Like a lot.
“And I’m sorry,” Jeff adds, looking both you and Harry in the eyes.
“Well you’re the sole reason behind our worst week ever, but whatever, as long as you don’t pull this shit again then I’ll let it go,” Harry says.
“I’ll do you one better,” Jeff says with a smile before he looks into your eyes, “I’ll give you a promotion,” he adds.
“I’m sorry, a what?” you question. Your brows are pulled so tightly together while you stare at Jeff who’s still smiling like a fool. What in the world?
“A promotion, within the label,” he states, “you will no longer be working for Harry, and you’ll get the job you really deserve after all these years of hard work,”
“Can you give us some actual details?” Harry asks, eyes narrowed at Jeff as he seems a bit spectacle of whatever he’s going on about. You roll your eyes at Harry’s bitter tone of voice and thread your fingers through his. This gets his attention right away, his eyes flickering down to your intertwined hands instead of glaring at Jeff.
“There’s a new artist we have just recently signed to the label, she goes by the name King Princess,” Jeff explains, pausing as both you and Harry look at him again. “Her real name is Mikaela Strauss and she needs a manager,” he says with a smile.
“Wait-”
“Are you saying you want me to be her manager?” you cut off Harry to throw out your own confusion.
Jeff nods, “I’ve been on the phone with her over the past week now, telling her all about you, and she wants to meet up and get things going. She’s very talented and I believe in her a lot, been looking for someone to be her manager for a month now, you’ve always been at the top of my list. But like I said, I’ve been to scared to let you go, Y/N,”
“Jeff,” you breathe out, “wow, uh, thank you,”
Jeff’s smile grows even more as he takes in how shocked and happy you must look, because this is exactly the job you wanted. To be a manager of a new up and coming artist. And if Jeff believes in her then you wanted this even more. Harry’s watching you, heart bursting at the utter look of happiness spread across your face, before his name is said by Jeff and he’s looking back his way.
“Just promise me that you’ll calm down on the drinking again, and that you’ll quit being so damn grumpy all the time,” Jeff says.
Harry narrows his eyes, “I don’t know-”
“Shut up,” you inject, giving him a short glare before looking back to Jeff, “he’ll be on his best behaviour, I will make you that promise. Now when do I meet her?” you ask and listen intently as Jeff goes on to tell you what he’s been planning this past week.
Harry turns his head and looks at you. His lips tug up into a smile, no doubt his dimple pop out, as he can’t help but watch you. How your lips move as you talk to Jeff or how bright your eyes look - they haven’t seemed so bright in a while now. You’re just so excited and it makes Harry excited too. He reaches up and brushes your hair behind your ear, causing you to look at him in the corner of your eye while Jeff goes on about her new job.
“I’ll, uh, let you two have some time alone now,” Jeff says, “van leaves in twenty minutes to go back to the hotel,” he adds before he’s walking out of the dressing room and leaving you and Harry alone.
“I feel like this should be so awkward, like we literally broke up and everything,” you say while Harry keeps brushing his fingers through your hair.
“I think I’m too happy to be awkward,” he states.
You smile and sit up in order to snuggle into his side some more. “I’m happy too,” you sigh.
Harry let’s out a deep sigh as you move your body around some more to get comfortable in the few passing minutes you two had together. Finally, you thought to yourself while resting your head in his lap and looking up at Harry - you missed this so freaking much. Harry smiles softly and brushes back your hair from your face.
“This past week has been the actual worst,” he says.
“I know,” you agree, your voice barely above a whisper.
“I really am sorry for anything I said or did, I was just so-” Harry pauses to let out a deep sigh and look away from your eyes and in front of him instead for just a couple seconds. “I was upset,” he says.
You give him another smile as his eyes meet yours once more, “I’ve never really taken your outbursts to heart before, so don’t worry,”
“God, I’ve just been such an ass lately,” Harry curses some more under his breath as you shake your head at him and sit back up. You don’t waste a minute before cupping both his cheeks in your hands. You didn’t think you’d get to hold him let this again, the thought brings another smile to your lips.
“But things are okay again, right? We’re together, we’re happy, Jeff fixed his mistakes, so you’ll be okay again, right?” You question.
When thinking back to the drunken stupid he’s been in lately, you got a bit worried. He wasn’t even Grumpy then, he was in a bad place and it hurt you to know it was your doing so. That’s why you had messaged Anne just yesterday and hoped she’d say something to get Harry to slow down the hard liquor a little. You don’t remember Miller being called to pick up Harry last night, and he was here so early this morning so maybe he did.
Harry leans forward as you’re deep in thought and presses his lips to yours. The feeling of him kissing you snaps you out of your thoughts while your hands card through his hair and your bring him even closer to you. Dear God you missed this. Your heart flutters and your stomach twists and turns as his hands grip your hips and pull your flesh against him now. How you two went this past week without kissing, or even kissing, beats you - suppose the hurt and anger suppressed the want that’s always there.
“Okay, okay,” you breathe out while pulling back from the kiss. Harry mets your eyes with his bewildered ones, maybe they matched your own. You focus on your breathing while fixing his black button down shirt that you had managed to wrinkle in your hands. “Maybe, let’s just take this a little slow,” you say.
“You’re not asking me to keep this a secret again, are you?” Harry questions. You know he’s teasing, but you can tell there’s a hint of worry behind his words too. You smile and peck his lips quickly before it can lead to something more.
“No, but maybe it’s for the best that we don’t just go out there and make out in front of everyone,” you exclaim. Harry chuckles and nods, and with that you get up off the sofa and fix yourself. “The van leaves soon, let’s head out,” you say.
“Can I hold your hand?” Harry asks, his eyes trailing down to where your hands were by your side.
You wet your lips and smile, “yes,” you say.
Harry doesn’t know what has him being so open with you, but he doesn’t waste his chance to reach out a thread his fingers through yours. The last time they’d held hands outside of the safety of their own space, someone had taken a picture and Jeff had found them before they hit the internet. And now this time neither of you had to worry about that, he could walk out of the dressing room with your hand in his and then after you drop his hand to answer some messages while getting into the van and ignoring the weird looks from the band he can rest his hand on your thigh too.
“Can I sleep in your room tonight?” Harry asks, his voice so quiet you barely hear him yourself. You turn to him and narrow your eyes, meeting a classic smirk and twinkle in his eyes to match the daring question he had asked.
“Maybe, but no funny business,” you tell him.
Harry really did just want to spend more time with you. But with that devilish smirk and the way his hand slowly moved up your thigh... You let out a deep breath through your nose and don’t stop his hand till his fingertip lightly brushes over the material of your jeans right over the spot between your legs... Yeah... There was some funny business.
⏤
You furrow your brows at your phone screen. FaceTiming your tired boyfriend meant that sometimes he would become too lazy to even hold the phone up. You watch lights pass by at what you assumed was the arena, waiting to finally see his face as he adjusts his phone to face him once more. A smile pulls at your lips as you see the fuzzy picture on your screen now. His hair is still a mess, even longer than you had last seen a couple weeks ago in person.
“Hey,” he smiles.
“Hey, how’s it going?” You ask, swirling around in your chair while holding the phone to better your angle.
“Good, just kinda rushing around a bit,” Harry answers, looking away from the camera yet again as he seems distracted by something. You can hear some people talking around him, not that you could understand anything they’re saying it’s mostly just a crowd of people talking.
“Oh, was this a bad time to call?” you ask.
Harry brings the camera close to his face and gives you a soft look right into the lens. “I always love talkin’ to ya and seein’ your face, love, but I’m just a bit busy,” he smiles.
“Yeah, I get it,” you say and show him a short pout before turning back away from the view of the New York street below your office to your desk that had a few tasks at hand for you to get busy with anyways. “I should get back to work too,” you add.
“Get to it, m’working girl,” Harry makes a show to wink at the camera too. You chuckle and shake your head at him.
“Talk soon?”
“Of course, love,”
You pucker your lips to the camera before looking at the screen once more and admiring how cute your boyfriend was even through a crappy quality FaceTime call. Harry grins at the call before he pulls the phone back and you get the perfect sight of his jawline before the call ends. You place your phone on your desk and lean back in your chair with one last sigh - you missed Harry, a lot.
Upon getting back together and you getting this promotion that Jeff set up, things got good for sure. You got to stick around through the Asian and South American tour dates, settling into your relationship with ease and everyone around really accepted the idea of you two being together too. You stare down at your phone screen as it lights up with a text from Mikaela saying she was just about at the office. Your background is from your last day on tour. Harry’s standing behind you, arm around your waist and a wide smile on his face while the rest of the band and few other crew members stood around you two. Those days were long gone it felt like. Now nearly a month later, over half way through Harry’s North American dates and you just really missed seeing him every day.
“Hey,” Mikaela’s voice carries through the room as she enters, her sneakers squeak against the new hardwood and causing you both to cringe.
“Should probably let the cleaning lady know that she can chill on the floors a bit,” you say. Mikaela chuckles and takes a seat in the big comfy leather seat on the other side of your desk. After getting this job and the head of the label place here in New York brought you to your office, you knew it needed a bit of sprucing up - hence the hardwood floors and comfy chairs for your favourite and only client.
“So what’s up?” Mikaela asks, running a hair through her brown hair and pushing it to one side as you give her a smile. “What?” she questions, brows pulled together, suppose you needed to work on a poker face when delivering good news.
“There’s something by the couch for you,” you say.
Mikaela jumps up from the chair and walks over to where her first framed plaque for her very first single ‘1950′. Her eyes light up immediately as her hands grip both sides of the frame and her mouth gapes open. Then she’s shouting out in pure excitement and it warms your heart so freaking much that your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
“Y/N, I cannot thank you enough wow this is un-fucking-real,” she beams at you.
“You’re welcome,” you reply, getting up to hug her quickly and take a few pictures for her too.
“Oh, and thank Harry later for me, even his tweet really helped me out too, I’m sure I’ll just miss him,” she says only about ten minutes later as she’s got her things together and ready to leave the office once more. She was off to celebrate. But first, she had you so completely confused you had to question her before she left your office.
“Miss him? What? I’m confused,” you say, brows wound tight together and arms crossing at your chest now.
“Oh, uh,” Mikaela must realize she’s made a mistake of some sorts as her face winds up with confusion too. “I just heard some people talking at the front desk about clearing out the parking space for Mr Styles’s arrival this afternoon,” she explains. “And I probably just ruined a whole surprise I’m assuming, so let’s just forget about this conversation,” she says before she’s running off with her plaque in hand.
You move to lean against the front of your desk and pull out your phone. For a moment you think about calling Harry again, or even just sending him a quick text telling him the surprise is over. Or you could just wait and pretend Mikaela never said anything at all. An email about King Princess’s newest song release date shows up at the top of your screen and suddenly you’re in work mode again. Without a doubt you’re still thinking about what Mikaela supposedly heard and if your boyfriend was going to walk through the door any minute...
That’s when he does. You first see a bouquet of flowers pushing through your door, causing a smile to tug on your lips but you cross your arms at your chest again and try to hold back the utter grin that’s pulling on your lips. Harry walks into your office, holding that beautiful bouquet of flowers and giving you a smile. He looks just as he did a while ago when you saw on over FaceTime.
“I was wondering when you were going to get here,” you say slyly.
Harry scowls then, “who ruined it?”
You just shake your head and let your smile break through then. “Nobody,” you say.
Harry walks over and set the flowers down on your desk beside you before wrapping his arms around you and hugging you tight. Inhaling deeply, smelling his cologne so strongly instead of the faint smell on the sweater you had stolen, your heart does that cute little pitter patter in your chest. Harry leans back and brings his hands up to your face, placing them on both of your cheeks. Shutting your eyes, you’re ready to feel his lips against yours but after a moment he doesn’t kiss you and instead adjusts his hands on your face. You open you eyes and meet his, mirroring his smile as well.
“Missed ya,” he mutters.
“I missed you too,” you say.
Harry leans forward and brushes his nose against your before meshing your smiles together and kissing you with so much passion your head spins. You haven’t told him yet - but you really did love the crap out of this boy. Coming to New York a whole week earlier than his show was here at Madison Square Garden, surprising you, bringing you flowers and kissing you like this too. What more could you ask for? You were by far the happiest you’ve been in so freaking long.
“Think we could get away with doing it right here in your office?” Harry questions jokingly while squeezing your bum with one hand.
You chuckle and narrow your eyes at him, “settle down,” you warn. Harry gives you a slight scowl. “Oh come on now, Grumpy, can’t wait till we at least get to my car?”
Harry shakes his head at you and smirks before his lips are back on yours. Yeah, life had turned out pretty good. And it was really all thanks to that ridiculous Grumpy prick you worked for. The one you had fallen in love with.
thank you for reading xx
(check out the story page for post ‘grumpy’ blurb also)
#i already miss writing this story#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles fanfic#harry styles smut#harry styles angst#harry styles imagines#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles writing#harry styles x you#harry styles x reader#i lowkey dont know if this is the best i couldve made this final part of grumpy but its all i came up with#just a lot of angst and a lot of big feelings and a lot of heartbreak#and then some sweet things too of course#but mostly angst lol#and i will be writing blurbs at some point too i promise#but no more 14k parts lol
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hello, it is I, potato anon, coming at you with more math vampire au. (1) Kim Namjoon knows that revenge is a dish best served cold. So when Yoongi plays a practical joke and the poppy seeds fly, Namjoon waits. He waits until he oh-so-casually passes by the door of Yoongi’s girlfriend’s classroom and sees Yoongi by the door, eyelashes fluttering behind the playing cards splayed coyly in front of his face, and an idea begins to percolate in his brain.
(2) After two months of careful, inconspicuous observation (“Stalking, Namjoon, I’m pretty sure that counts as stalking,” his girlfriend tells him later), Namjoon works out that Yoongi visits his girlfriend’s classes on Tuesdays, stopping by in the half hour that he has between lectures.
(3) Sometimes he blows kisses, sometimes he swings a pair of comically large fuzzy dice from his fingers, and sometimes he just gazes besottedly through the door at her until she busies her students with a sample problem and comes out to kiss him and shoo him away.
(4) Namjoon waits patiently through it all until on the ninth Tuesday, he finally sees it again: a deck of cards in Yoongi’s hands as he makes his way to the lecture hall. Namjoon whips out his phone just in time to get it Yoongi’s masterful performance on video. Snickering, he makes his way back to his office, where Jung Hoseok is waiting for office hours.“Say, Hoseok, didn’t you say that your class needed help with the traditional dance unit?”
(5) This is how Yoongi finds himself dressed in the robes of a court dancer from the thirteenth century, lips painted and cheeks rouged, dancing with sixteen female dancers from Hoseok’s class whom he had painstakenly taught how to properly swish and flick open a fan. They were performing for (among others) the president of the university.
(6) (“How did you get yourself into this situation?” his girlfriend huffs in laughter, a hand coming up to tug at the headpiece he hasn’t had time to take off yet.“I couldn’t say no to that kid! It’d be like kicking a puppy.” Yoongi pouts. “It’s all Namjoon’s fault.”“Hmm, you were pretty good, though,” she teases.He deadpans, “That’s because this dance was all the rage when I was a teenager.”)
(7) Yoongi doesn’t speak to Namjoon for three weeks. He only lets up when Namjoon brings him piece offering—a framed sheet of A4 paper, carefully drawn in with equilateral triangles. His eyes bulge and his grumpy façade disappears in an instant. “You’re really giving me this?”Namjoon nods sheepishly. “I spent three hours drawing it. All the numbers are perfect squares.”
(8) Tears come to Yoongi’s eyes. “This is the nicest thing that anyone’s ever done for me.” And like that, everything is back to normal. (“How am I going to top this for your next birthday present?” Yoongi whines.)
listen. this is actual gold.
equilateral triangles, i’m--
at lunch sometime the following week, when everything has been resolved, yoongi and his girlfriend get to work on their payback-turned-birthday-surprise plans. yoongi, having filled her in on every detail of namjoon’s earlier demise, suggests they come up with something subtle. something that won’t rouse namjoon’s suspicions straight away.
yoongi’s girlfriend suggests they bring in namjoon’s girlfriend.
yoongi beams.
(”you’re a fucking genius, babe.”
“i know. don’t act so surprised.”)
the three of them meet up while namjoon is busy with one of his lectures. naturally, namjoon’s girlfriend is over the moon to be involved.
once they’ve got namjoon’s actual birthday present out of the way -- “this guy i used to work with is the director over at the national museum of mathematics in new york, and he owes me big time. i guess it’s kinda convenient that namjoon’s been bugging me about visiting one day as well” -- they spend the next hour and a half brainstorming.
(”sesame seeds?”
“i use that all the time, yoongs. sorry.”
“chia seeds?”
“i use those too. wait. what’s the one thing namjoon hates the most?”
“....oh my god--”)
in the weeks approaching his birthday, the trio get to work on writing as many copies of a faux journal as they can, each with a varying degree of typos present. they set up a fake email, a fake profile for a new up-and-coming professor in namjoon’s field, because they know, they know, namjoon is always keeping track of the new shit coming out. it’s a shit ton of work, creating fake websites and all that, so much so that they enlist the help of a one professor jeon jeongguk in the arts/media department.
(jeongguk is more than happy the help. of course he is. by the next morning, he’s got a web of websites that go so deep even they get a little convinced by this fake professor’s fake existence.)
it’s yoongi who directs namjoon’s attention to a new journal he’d heard about in passing -- casually, of course.
namjoon is on his lunch break when he reads it.
ever the meticulous one, he spots the typo in an instant, and, like always, he sends a quick email out to this new professor, pointing out the error.
namjoon checks the next day, happy to see the journal’s been reuploaded with the corrected typo.
until, that is, he sees the other typos on the following page.
more typos, another email.
another apology. more corrections.
a happy namjoon. a sad namjoon.
rinse and repeat.
it’s two days before his birthday and namjoon is stressed.
(”babe? you okay?”
“no.”)
he tries to explain the group at lunch why these typos are utterly unacceptable, but they just shrug it off, reasoning that everyone makes typos.
(“not twenty times over. who does that?”)
the plan almost caves in on itself when namjoon decides that emails are not enough, and calls their fake professor.
(it’s five seconds of hot-potato-esque passing of their cheap burner phone between namjoon’s girlfriend, yoongi, yoongi’s girlfriend, hoseok, and jeongguk. the phone ultimately ends up with a dumbfounded seokjin.
“hello, this is, uh... professor bang?”
“yes. hello. this is professor nam. we’ve been emailing back and forth for the last two weeks or so?”
“oh, yes. hello! what can i do for you?”
“well, i’m really sorry but it’s just... your typos...”
they’re trying hard not to burst out laughing as seokjin -- conveniently, a professor in the theatre department -- bullshits his way through a conversation with namjoon in a fake accent, that ends in them arranging to “meet”.
seokjin says, “he said he wants to meet up and give me some pointers on grammar and spelling. casually.”)
if namjoon has any complaints about meeting up with “professor bang” on his birthday, he doesn’t voice them.
he heads on down to the meeting place (he doesn’t seem to notice it’s that restaurant he and his girlfriend love to go to on special occasions, probably too focused on the prospect of finally doing some good for this professor bang dude), and tells the front he’s here with a reservation under professor bang.
the waiter leads him to the back, to a quiet function room, separated from the rest of the dining floor.
when he enters the room, he’s met with the back of a man.
he walks around the table to find taehyung with a fake mustache on, smiling coyly as he reads professor bang’s heavily flawed paper on cartesian geometry.
“what the fuck?!”
(NJ: ”wait. hyung, you wrote a fake paper just to get your revenge on me?”
YG: “you bet your ass i did.”
NJ: “but... the emails? the websites?”
YG: “that was jeongguk.”
JK: “happy birthday, hyung. thanks for the food.”
NJ: “wait. who did i talk to on the phone then?”
SJ: “me. you’re favourite hyung.”
NJ: “so... my birthday gift is knowing that these typos weren’t legit? that’s pretty cool.”
NJ’s GF: “no, your birthday present is tickets to the national museum of mathematics in new york, but whatever. if you want the typo thing, that’s cool too.”
NJ: “I LOVE YOU.”)
#✩ potato anon ✩#ILY POTATO ANON#this was long and excessive and shitty#but i love the math nerd vampires so much#anon#r
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Ep. 15 - “Surprise! Everyone's a snake!” - Will
https://survivorazores.tumblr.com/post/164349795498/individual-immunity-6
I'm genuinely so sad that Emily left because she was probably one of the most genuine and nicest ones in the game, we were definitely on different sides after the Amanda G vote but she was never mean or anything. She easily would've won and I'm just hoping those two votes against me weren't any sort of warning... I wanna see how this next vote will turn out because this could be when Ruthie leaves and I need to make sure I can clear myself in case of a bitter jury. We'll see how this goes though.
My best plan here could be to do exactly what Ruthie did for me, go to her (if she doesn't win immunity) and say "If you have an idol, play it tonight - there's nothing I can do" because if I didn't have an idol and had gone home, I wouldn't have been mad at Ruthie at all, or at least if she had been trying to blindside me I wouldn't have known. That could backfire on me if she leaks it back to the others and they realize I'm playing both sides but... I won't know until I try. And I shouldn't worry about it too much until the challenge is over.
I feel so bad for Emily, she is the true robbed queen of this season and she should have won this game. Voting out people who honestly deserve to win is the hardest part of this game.
I'm so fucking naive. 4 hours of sleep does not, in fact, make the fact that everyone lied to you go down any fucking easier. Just....Emily didn't say “jump” and I didn't respond with “how high?!?!” Jesus fuckingn Christ but that's what people thought of me. Guess I really was just sucking on her teat all along. Big hearty shout out to Michael for leaving that in everyone's mind. Sure we joked about his last words but they didn't not make an impression ffs. You'll get your full video confessional when I'm in the states but until then just have this because it's a pretty good summary of what getting blindsided and lied to by the only people you trusted feels like. (Also, gimme an OTT edit if you must this round idgaf. If I go off enough in the video maybe there will be some good lines from it. Who knows) http://jaxxgarcia.tumblr.com/post/159167820182/when-he-plays-u-and-u-feel-like-a-clown
I've been just following whatever my main alliances says way too much. Well, fuck that. My strategy discussing votes with others was to just let them talk and I'd agree or direct them to something. It all feels way too passive and in fucking done with that. Being lied to by literally everyone really makes you reevaluate how you've been playing the game.
So my game might be about to take a drastic turn! I came into this game knowing i wanted to play with Amanda. But ive been basically rolling with her this whole time and I've been with her 100% for every vote weve been on. But since Emily left and Francie came to her realization that everyone thought of her as Emilys goat that I realized that I am essentially Amandas goat. It's no fault of hers, its just been me not being a strategic player, which I never have been. I get by on social game and admittedly that has been sub par this game. So the only conceivable way I could win is if Will and Amanda go home. I feel terrible but me and Francie can only win against each other and Ruthie or Ali. deep sigh. i adore amanda with my entire heart and she deserves to win this game, but if she gets to the end she wins 100% and I cant in good conscience let Francie go to the end with her without trying to get her a win.
me, two hours ago: I am SO fucking pissed about this blindside I'm forgiving no one.
me now: I've eaten, had time to think about this logically, I'm calmer and I feel like I've been involved in more gameplay discussion today than I have been all trip.
Francie literally hasn't spoken more than 5 words in PMs to me this entire game and now after she's been blindsided she's gonna sneak up into my messages saying we should talk I just... what's the point? Unless if you're gonna provide me concrete, clear facts and quotes telling me that my allies are sneakier snakes than Russel Hantz I don't want to buy what you're selling. Period.
Tbh the worst part about it being down to the final 6 is that there's literally nobody to talk to anymore since Abbey/Amanda aren't online and we usually only talk strategy/memes, Ali is (I love you but) impossible to talk to for more than five minutes, I've barely ever spoken to Francie until now, and Ruthie's just like such a pure queen but I need someone in this game who doesn't want to talk about the game for like five seconds like is it over is it done yet
https://youtu.be/5d3dUxIrntQ
Here's how it would go for me ideally: we 3-2-1 with Francie being the target, and Ruthie being the 2 so in case of Francie playing an idol then Ruthie goes home and I can be 100% absolved of any blame. Then at F5, depending on who wins immunity, of course, we vote out Ruthie and I play the "there's nothing I can do!" card and hopefully it doesn't blow up in my face and worst case scenario Ruthie blows things up but doesn't ruin my game since she'll be more nervous about the girls than about me. THEN at F4, unless Ali pulls a miracle and wins, we unanimously send him home. In the case of him winning, the girls will probably turn on me but I'm sure I can convince Ali to stick with me since he thinks we're in such a tight alliance, so what'll happen is a firemaking between me and one of the girls which could screw me over but... it's a 1 in 4 chance of us losing final immunity and it better not fucking happen. Anyways I see my path to FTC very clearly right now and I'm going to win this shit.
https://survivorazores.tumblr.com/post/164385869108/individual-immunity-6-results-with-5-correct
Currently I'm feeling like I'm Amanda Lynn's goat so.... she's gotta go when she doesn't have immunity. Will has been my number one throughout this entire game and it sounds like he's trying to turn on me after getting off a call with Amanda Lynn so hmmm interesting we'll see about that. We're at a place now when it's every survivor for themselves and if I'm playing it smart the best options for me to sit beside at the end are Ali and Francie, bless their hearts. I mean yes they will both probably still beat me but I think I could make a good case next to either of them whereas Amanda would win- she's social, strategic and has made most of the moves in the game, Will is super strategic and would win and then we have Abbey who I think would win also, she's strategic too.
I don't know what I'm going to do but we'll see soon.
https://youtu.be/T9oCLchv-3U
EXTRA DETAIL: Here were Emily’s thoughts after her conference with Amanda
I just ended a call with Amanda Lynn and I am so happy that girl was the one that won the call!!! I wouldn't have been able to say as much to anyone else. I'm pulling for her to win. And I'm so happy she cleared up my tribal and told me that Francie was in the dark. That was the only thing about my tribal that I didn't like... that I didn't know who voted with me, though I was 90% sure it was Francie before the call. I was completely honest with Amanda Lynn, I told her all the stuff I told Ali before I left as a last ditch effort to save myself, and I told her that I told Ali to talk to Francie should I leave that night. She won the immunity and I am so happy!!! She also told me that Ali was the one that had the idol UM WHAT!!! I was shooketh! And he's using it this tribal because, you know, it's his last opportunity. I think it would be most beneficial for Amanda Lynn's game if the idol was played on Abbey tonight just to ensure that she has Ali and Abbey with her in final five. I need Amanda Lynn to win all of these next few immunities because I don't want to give my vote to anyone else!!! The girl deserves it. Also I told her I was gunning for her should I have stayed another round, and she laughed and told me she's glad she got me out when she did. She was genuine about the Gal Pals final four up until I proved to be a very worthy competitor, and I really respect her game for taking me out. She told me it was so hard, especially because I kept saying how nervous I was all day. Which means my guilt tripping WORKED........ sort of. I still got voted out. But at least they felt bad. Ugh, but I really hope the best for that girl. I told her pretty much everything about these past few rounds and how I was in an alliance with the INFPs and how the "friend" I was referring to in my competition confessional (#2) was Bryce. I hope that we can be friends after this game. I think she's such a sweet girl and I admire her gameplay. I was an Amanda Lynn stan before this call, but now I'm her NUMBER ONE stan. Team Amanda Lynn!!! If I can't win, I want her to win. She has such a good read on the game and I trust that she'll make the best moves for her to get her to FTC. I'm nervous because if she doesn't win immunity, she might get booted like I did. She has a target and she's an obvious winner. We both agreed that we knew the winner would either be her or myself. I think I have acknowledged some mistakes that I made in this game and I will use them to better my future games! I'm really thankful Amanda Lynn decided to call me and talk through everything. Especially because I got to write another confessional. Yay! But I think I've said nearly all I wanted to say... So, farewell, confessionals. It was nice getting to write you. <3
I kinda regret not playing the idol on emily but like I kinda don't either it just adds to my survivor resume I feel like people don't see me much as a threat which is a really good thing because they have a long way coming, Amanda is running this game she tells me to do everything and I feel like I'm being used on top of that she's shady I mean she's a good person and I like her but she's way to much of a treath if she finds out I'm a threat she's gonna vote me off so my plan? Vote off her little sidekick Abby ;) I hope I don't dig my self into another hole I have an idol but I need to be slick and I wanna play the idol on will so it will be a 3-0 vote or a 2-0 vote I'm ready for these fireworks to erupt everywhere also I'm searching for a new job and at Orlando so sorry if I can't make live tribals but yassss I hope abbey leaves and then we can blindside Amanda Lynn and then will final 3 with myself Ruthie and Francie :) I'm so ready I'm shaking in my boots
Okay so trying to pick up where I left off in my last confessional. I've been thinking a lot about what Emily told me in our conference call. She seemed genuine when she told me she was rooting for me. But I can't help but wonder if she was telling me some things to get me to get Francie to the end so she can rally votes for her. idk I'm gonna try to not worry about that right now My main focus is getting me and Abbey as far as we can go together..
I'm still a little worried about Francie not trusting me. We had a conversation this morning and she said, "I won't lie, its a little harder now, but I still trust you." So I'm at least glad for her honesty, and I'm gonna do whatever I can to get her to trust me. I told her about Will's 3-2-1 plan in case of the idol. There isn't much else I can tell her expect that I know where the idol is, and I can't tell her that right now because I need Ali to truly believe I didn't tell anyone about the idol so he does what I want him to do with it.
"What do you want him to do with the idol, Amanda?" Well, it's simple, kids: I want him to play the idol on Abbey. After talking with Emily, I feel like the others are going to try and take a shot at Abbey because she is my right hand man, my Alexander Hamilton, if you will. And since they can't get me right now because I'm immune, they will try to go after her. I'm trying to get Ali to believe that me, him, and Abbey are a tight 3, and after tonight, we will have majority and can do whatever we want. But, we all need to get there. I told him that nobody has mentioned his name ever. Nobody is trying to target him, so if he plays his idol on himself, the jury could see it as a waste. But if he plays it on Abbey, the jury could see it as a big move (Something he is severely lacking in this game, minus the Amanda G vote). And he... agreed.... He said he was going to play his idol on Abbey. What? Is this real life? Did I actually convince him to do that? I guess I'll find out tonight at tribal. But if he truly does... then whew.... I will be shook at myself. Hopefully tonight goes as planned and Will goes home. Hopefully...
Oh come on like - duh, of COURSE I've heard about the vote what makes you think I wouldn't have heard about the vote by now there's literally 6 people left in this game
Surprise! Everyone's a snake and turns out that when I make f3 deals with people I need to be more careful! Ruthie is really the only real one left in this game huh?
Here's some tea, I let it slip to Will about what Amanda told me and now the three of them are in for a wee bit of trouble hehe. The smartest moves now are to get out Abbey then get out Amanda or Will who wasn't going to tell me about the 3-2-1 vote. Ali and I can pit them against each other and hopefully he, me and Francie can sail to the end!
Anyway Ruthie is just as bad as Ashley and cant keep her mouth shut and Ali is a snake and I'm screwed either way bc I highkey dont think Francie is actually going to vote with me but I can't wait to be voted out next round. Thank you, Will and Ali, for making me cry for the first time this game.
I really almost got played but I may have just Michele'd my way into having the best social game of all these snakes. I really have people willing to put their own games on the line and tell me that I'm the target? Like...nut? What did I do to get in this kind of game position? Sure Amanda thinks I can't separate the game from reality but like maybe that's what happens when you pull someone so deep into a promise you never intended to keep? It's just funny how people will yell that IT'S JUST A GAME but not be able to see it for themselves. I mean I know I'm not going home tonight but still, wowwwwwwww!!!
everything fell apart, amanda is crying, will is being mean and i wanna take a nap. the girls r voting for ruthie i guess ali might be idoling will idk its a big mess. everyone is sad and mad or oblivious (ali). An hour ago i was ready to be the bitter juror but now im gonna be the apathetic juror bc im just so fucking tired of all this bullshit deep fucking sigh
Pre-Tribal: https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B7aU3uBdz8F2bkdvNDBYR1hOZDQ/view?usp=sharing
Post-Tribal: https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B7aU3uBdz8F2X3JCQjV3NV8xbWs/view?usp=sharing
Also what I forgot to mention at the end of it was that we changed our vote from Will to Ruthie because she was running her mouth to Will and that's what started the shit that went down before tribal
NOTE: These confessionals are both discussing the events pre-tribal, it just so happened that tribal interrupted the confessional. Francie has a separate confessional coming in the following episodes discussing the rocks
https://survivorazores.tumblr.com/post/164424815603/tribal-15-abbey-and-ruthie-tied-3-3-revote-tied
LAST WORDS: This game has been amazing honestly I never thought I would've made it this far if I had pulled that move off I would've won the game I swear it to you but it's all good I hope I get to play again. :)
Ali T becomes the seventh member of our jury, and the first person rocked out of Survivor Athena: Azores (sixth place)
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Cabin in the Woods
Square Filled: Cabin in the woods
Warnings: Fluffy, fluff, sexy times, threesome, male receiving oral sex, unprotected sex, voyeurism, masturbation
Summary: Jared and Jensen take the reader on their secret vacation destination, but they still have one more surprise for her. She has a surprise for them too.
Pairing: J2 x Reader (established)
Word Count: 1632
Written for: @spngenrebingo
Thank you to @evansrogerskitten for taking a look at this, and making me smut better.
A/N: A while back, my friend @supernatural-jackles, told me she would love to see me write a J2 x Reader, but would never send a request. When I got my second card for this bingo, I knew exactly what I was going to write. Jen, your wish is my command. This is the fourth installment of the series:
To New Beginnings
As a reminder, this is a work of fiction and should be regarded as such. No harm is intended toward the actor(s) or their families.
“Will you stop trying to peek and just keep the damn blindfold on, please, Y/N?” Jared pleaded from the back seat. From his vantage point, he could see every fidget, tick and grimace she made.
“You both know I don’t like surprises, so why you felt the need to blindfold me is beyond me!” she yelled, turning first toward Jensen in the driver seat then back to Jared. She couldn’t see them, but knew where they were seated.
“We know, Darlin’, but we want this to be special for you. So please, be patient just a little bit longer,” Jensen reached over, clasping her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We’re almost there, I promise.”
She felt Jared’s hand press down reassuringly on her shoulder. She knew she wouldn’t stay mad at them, but for the time being, she was losing her patience. They wouldn’t tell her where they were going and then blindfolded her. This trip better be worth it, she thought.
Just like Jensen promised, it wasn’t very much longer and he pulled the vehicle to stop. She heard the back door open, assuming Jared exited the vehicle. “Y/N, just another two minutes. We’re going to take the bags in, then we’ll come for you, okay?”
“Two minutes, Jen. I’m counting. One, two...,” she tapped her watch. She heard him open the door and get out, shutting it behind him. She only made it to eighty-six before she heard a tap at the window and her door opened. “Nice timing.”
“Y/N, we get it, okay? No more surprises,” Jared said and took her hand, helping her from the car. “You ready?”
“What do you think, Jare?” Even though part of her face was obscured by the silken fabric, he could see she was not amused.
“Yeah, okay. I am going to take it off now,” Jared told her and reached behind her head.
Y/N felt a hand on the small of her back and knew Jensen was there too. “Yes, please!”
Bright light flooded her vision as she took in the sight before her. Jared on her right and Jensen behind her. It was beautiful. Much more beautiful than she remembered.
“Is this-?” she started, not believing what she saw. “Rufus’ cabin?”
“Yeah, it is, Baby. We talked to the owners and they were more than happy to give it up, feeling too old to take care of it anyway. So we bought it!” Jared announced as he held his arms out at his sides. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s wonderful,” she whispered. “Let’s go inside.” She reached for both of them and walked toward the front of the cabin, a smile on her face.
The inside of the cabin was nothing like she remembered. It really had looked like an old hunting cabin before. Musty furniture, drafty windows and a single room. What they stood in now was refinished, refurbished and beautiful.
Y/N walked to the other side of the cabin, the back overlooked the woods and a small stream. What used to be a single, weathered wall, was now one large bedroom with a king sized bed against one wall and a large television on the other. There was a moderately sized chest of drawers under the large screen and double doors that led out to a screened in porch with a sitting area.
“This is beautiful. How long did this take?” she looked around in wonder, before her gaze landed back on her boyfriends.
“Well, about six months total, I guess. We bought it about a year ago, but hadn't decided what we wanted to do. We’ve come up here a few times to unplug, do some fishing. But then we started thinking and planning. It wasn’t until you that we really got going and hired a contractor to finish it. We were saving it for winter hiatus, but when this break came along, it seemed like the perfect time,” Jensen informed her.
“There’s another bedroom too, down the hall. The back is all one new addition with a brand new bathroom, complete with a bubble tub!” Jared could hardly contain his excitement.
“A bubble tub?” Jensen scrunched up his face. “What are you, five? It’s called a jacuzzi!”
“I don’t care what it’s called, I want to use it!” Y/N took off down the hall, shredding her clothes as she went. It took a moment for Jared and Jensen’s minds to catch up, but once they did, the followed suit. Leaving a trail of clothes in their wake, they found Y/N sitting bare on the edge of the large bathtub, the water already running.
“You’re beautiful,” Jared whispered, his voice barely audible over the rush of water from the tap.
She smiled shyly up at them as they approached her. A blush crept over her skin as she admired them. They were truly beautiful specimens of the male form. Miles of golden skin covering toned muscle. Their legs were long and thick. Their arms were strong and safe, providing her comfort only they could. She held out her hands to them and they came to stand before her.
With want in her eyes, she took each of them in her hands, stroking them slowly to full hardness. She leaned over, placing kitten licks to the tips, tasting them, a moan falling from her lips as she took in the flavor of their essence. Her pace picked up and she wrapped her lips around Jared first, bobbing slowly up and down on his hard length. He loosely gripped her hand with one hand. Her spit aided her movement as she swirled her tongue around the tip, then licked down the underside, all the way to his sack and back up. Jared’s mouth fell open as he watched her take him, a wanton groan as she pleasured him with her mouth, her eyes locked on his.
Jensen was content to wait his turn, his eyes glued to her mouth as she took Jared’s cock as far as she could. Her eyes flicked up to Jensen and she smiled around Jared. She gave Jensen’s dick a squeeze as she continued to stroke him.
Jared pulled her off of his throbbing cock, gently pushing her toward Jensen’s waiting member. The tip was reddish purple, leaking with his desire for her. She gently kissed the head, her tongue darting from between her lips to taste him. Wrapping her lips around him, she slowly slid her mouth over him until he hit the back of her throat. Applying just enough suction, she pulled back until just the head was in her mouth, nestled on the tip her tongue. She repeated the motion, keeping her eyes locked on his.
Jared watched as he languidly jerked himself, his other hand toying with her nipples. Jared loved drawing all the sounds from her. The ones she saved for moments like this. The sounds that were only for Jensen and him. The sounds he memorized for later when he jacked off alone his trailer.
“Sugar, as exceptional as your mouth is, I can’t wait another second to be buried balls deep in that perfect, tight, wet pussy of yours,” Jensen drawled, his breath coming in pants from her attention.
Y/N pulled off of him slowly, drawing it out until he fell from her mouth, his dick hitting his thigh with a slap. She reached behind her turning off the water. Jensen pulled her to her feet, grabbing her ass with both hands lifting her to him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, his dripping cock trapped between his stomach and her sodden core.
“You’re so fucking wet for us already, Y/N,” Jensen mouthed at her neck. With one hand, he reached between them, lining himself up and pushing home. The moan falling from her open mouth was sinful and gave Jared all the motivation he needed. He stepped up behind her, gripping her hips tightly, as Jensen’s hands ran up and down her back.
“Oh fucking Christ, Jen, move!” she cried, sandwiched between them. Her left hand shot behind her, holding Jared’s hip as he ground his hard cock against her ass crack.
With the aid of Jared, Jensen began bouncing Y/N on his cock. Pressed up against each other, the friction on her clit was quickly pushing her over the edge. Jared’s hands let go of her hips, cupping and kneading her tits, twisting and pulling her nipples between his large fingers, while he ground against her from behind, his cock trapped between her cheeks.
“Unnnggh,” Jensen moaned out as her walls fluttered around him, reaching her high.
Jared slid his hand down between them, massaging her clit with sure, quick strokes and she exploded around Jensen. Her screams broke the otherwise quietness of the room.
Jensen continued pumping, circling his hips until he unloaded his hot seed into her belly. His eyes squeezed shut at the onslaught of ecstasy that washed over him as his head fell to her shoulder.
Jared dug his fingertips into her flesh as he too reached his own end, rope after rope of his cum shooting up her back and his chest as he stilled behind her.
Together, they lowered her to the edge of the bath and eased her into the water. They slid in beside her, the tub more than large enough for the three of them. They sat quietly, each of them coming down from the beautiful heights of pleasure they had brought one another, euphoric smiles plastered on their faces.
“This is some bathtub,” she murmured, content between her lovers. They agreed with tranquil hums.
“Welcome to our little cabin in the woods,” Jensen mumbled, his hand tight in hers.
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The Whole Enchilada tags: @closetspngirl @emoryhemsworth @iwantthedean @meganwinchester1999 @sis-tafics @wilde-abandon @wegoddessofhell @holyfuckloueh @horsegirly99 @smoothdogsgirl @dolphincliffs @thisismysecrethappyplace @neeadinghugs @roxyspearing @theoriginalvicki @andkatiethings @mrswhozeewhatsis @linki-locks11 @evansrogerskitten @hennessy0274-blog @hobby27 @gh0stgurl @charliebradbury1104 @blacktithe7 @the--blackdahlia @fortisetgloriosusinarduis @roseblue373 @hannahindie @pinknerdpanda @cherrycokegirls1 @just-another-busy-fangirl
Jensen’s Jamboree: @supernatural-jackles @dean-winchesters-bacon @cameronbraswell @docharleythegeekqueen @maddiepants @squirrel-moose-winchester @amanda-teaches @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278 @kathaswings @deansgirl215 @x-waywardaf-x @elara98azalea @jerkbitchidjitassbutt
Jared’s Menagerie: @supernatural-jackles @cameronbraswell @squirrel-moose-winchester @amanda-teaches @deansgirl215 @x-waywardaf-x
#spngenrebingo#jensen ackles#Jared Padalecki#j2#j2 x reader#j2 x reader smut#jensen ackles smut#jared padalecki smut#j2 smut#supernatural fanfiction#Supernatural fanfic#spn fanfiction#spn fanfic#supernatural rpf
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