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harryssunflowerkiwi · 3 years

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‘KIWI’ Part 1.

Pairing: Harry Styles x Female Reader

Synopsis: You’re a famous designer. You meet Harry at a party and he is obsessed, but you’re not going to give in so easily.

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: Not much for this part! Some sexual undertones.

A/N: hello loves! This is my first fanfic ever and I’m writing it on my phone so please bare with me. If there are any grammar or spelling mistakes I apologize, I will do my best! There will also likely be smut in the next part! And please keep in mind that this is PURE FICTION and is in no way an accurate depiction of Harry Styles! It’s just for entertainment purposes only :) So without further disclaimers, let’s get into part one of a multipart series called ‘KIWI’ very loosely based on Harry’s song. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think and be kind xox

🥝Outfits mentioned in this part 🥝

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SEPTEMBER 3rd 2020~

You woke up to the sound of ‘dreams’ by Fleetwood Mac blaring from your phone that sat on the glass night stand beside your bed indicating that it was indeed already 6:30AM and therefor the time for you to leave your oh-so comfortable bed. The sun was shining ever so slightly through the crack between the black silk curtains that hung over the large window directly across from your bed, stinging your barely awake eyes. With a bit of hesitation you rolled over to turn off the alarm and swung your bare feet over the side of the bed letting them touch the cold hardwood floor of your bedroom. You made your way to the on suit to pee and brush your teeth. As the icy mint of your toothpaste hit your tounge you looked in the large mirror above the sink, you look tired. Of course you look tired, you’ve been getting three hours of sleep every night for the past month. Your hair is disheveled, no doubt from whoever you had kicked out of your apartment the night before after yet another hookup. You didn’t regret it, of course, you never do. He was a nice guy. Well, he was a decent lay at the very least. And he seemed to enjoy himself too so there’s no harm.

Just as you finished washing your face you heard your phone go off again. “Of course” you thought as you slowly made your way back into your bedroom where you had lazily threw your phone back on your bed before going to bathroom. You picked it up and squinted your eyes slightly to make out the name of the person calling. ‘JEFF AZOFF’. You sighed lightly and pressed answer.

“Jeff It’s not even 7” you said in a somewhat faux dramatic tone.

“oh stop y/n I know you’ve been awake for a bit” he replied and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“What do you want” you sat back down on your bed and placed your left hand under your chin.

“I’m throwing a party at our place tonight and there’s no party without you”. You thought for a minute, knowing you couldn’t actually say no to a party, especially one being thrown by one of your best friends and his fiancé.

After about 30 seconds of silence you signed dramatically and said “You’re absolutely right, I’ll be there at 10 but next time tell me ahead of time. You are aware I have a business to run”.

Most of the morning was spent working through some designs, yelling at people for doing their jobs incorrectly, finalizing some details for London fashion week, and drinking copious amounts of coffee. You stood up from your “desk” (which was really just your kitchen island) with a stretch and looked down at your phone that was sitting on the counter, it was 8:43PM. Deciding that you should probably start getting ready for Jeff’s party, you walked back through your bedroom and into your walk-in closet to pick an outfit. “Alexa play get ready playlist” you yelled through your apartment and shortly after ‘girls in the hood’ started playing through out your apartment at full volume. Fully aware that Jeff’s spontaneous parties are generally pretty casual, after about 10 minutes you landed on your favourite pair of black Levi’s, a baby t that says “nobody’s pussycat”, a pair of black Gucci boots and grabbed your new fuzzy yellow and blue jumper in case you got cold (and also to throw over your shoulders for a bit of colour). Walking back into your bathroom you decided to do your makeup, since you had been working from home today and hadn’t put any on yet. You ended up doing some simple makeup, to not clash with the bright colors on your jumper and let your hair fall in loose curls. By the time you were fully ready it was just past 9:30, which was perfect because Jeff’s place was about a 20 minute drive from your apartment. You put your boots on, grabbed your yellow tinted Gucci glasses, your phone and keys and headed out.

Harry had gotten a very similar from Jeff as you, but it had come the day before. He was excited for the party, it’s been awhile since he’s been out anywhere but the studio. He’s been working on his new album tirelessly. Writing songs this time round was becoming increasingly more difficult, he’s felt dry of inspiration which is partially what he’s hoping a party will help with. Being around some new people and some of his closest friends. Jeff told him he was inviting some of his mates that Harry was yet to meet, which hopefully meant new experience outside the realm of ex girlfriends and band mates. He told Jeff he wouldn’t make it till around 11PM considering he’d be in the studio until 9 and he’d need time to make it home to change and shower before heading over and London traffic was an absolute nightmare, especially on Friday’s. Once he was done at the studio it was half nine, he sighed heavily as he left the lofty studio feeling the heavy weight of the pressure to write new material.

Once Harry arrived to his flat he immediately dropped his keys into the white and blue ceramic bowl he keeps by the door and swiftly kicked off his worn out vans. He was tired, but determined to make some worthy memories if not only for the sake of his future albums. Hell, maybe even just to blow off some steam. He needed that, badly. After making his way up the long spiral shaped stained oak stairs he walked briskly into the bathroom right across from his bedroom. He took his phone out of the back pocket of the light brown sweats he was wearing and glanced at the time 10:03PM. He let out another light sigh before hopping into the large black tiled shower. After a very quick shower filled with worried thoughts of where his career will go if he can’t write music, he hurried himself into his walk in closet with just a blush pink towel wrapped loosely around his hips and his phone in his left hand. Since he was already running slightly behind schedule and Jeff didn’t mention this party being anything but a casual gathering, he grabbed a pair of light blue YSL trousers and a simple white button down blouse to pair with his oh so worn down white vans, simply not having time to fuss about picking a new pair of shoes to match.

By the time Harry arrived at Jeff and Glenne’s flat it was five minutes to eleven. When he pulled up there were already around 10 cars parked around the house, some of which he recognized of course. He made his way up to the large front door after thanking his driver and knocked loudly, his various rings making a light clinking noise against the wood. About thirty seconds later the heavy door swung open to reveal Glenne who smiled widely when she saw him. “H!” She shrieked and pulled him in for a quick hug as she pulled him into the warm house.

“How’re ya Glenne” he smiled back enthusiastically as they entered.

“Good, good!, come let’s find Jeff and get you a drink” she said over the somewhat loud music that ran throughout the house. As Glenne guided him through the farmiliar house he took a moment to observe the people around him as they passed, seeing plenty of people that he knew well, a few he had met on a few occasions similar to this one, and some whom he’s never met. All together there were around 20 people, from what he could tell in passing.

Once they made it through each room of the well decorated house and into the bar area near the kitchen and dining area, he immediately saw Jeff leaning against the wall directly across from the doorway to the area. He was talking to a couple he recognized as Cathrine and Fred, two of their mutual friends, both worked in the music industry (Catherine being a well established sound engineer and Fred being one of the best producers in London). As they approached Jeff looked up and smiled excitedly at Harry and quickly pulled him in for a warm embrace. “Good t’ see you” Harry said as he smiled against his shoulder.

“Good to see you too H, glad you came. Nice to see you outside of that studio” Jeff replied with a small chuckle as they pulled away.

You had been at the party a total of fifty minutes and managed to down 3 vodka martinis and a glass of champagne without hesitation. You have always been able to hold your liquor, even though you didn’t usually drink more than twice a week. Not that much, you thought. Currently you were sitting on one of the two bright red sofas that sat Jeff and Glenne’s living room. You sat back against the velvet upholstery and had your left leg swung over yours and Glenne’s mutual friend Kassandra (or kassie as you called her).

You felt good, great even. It had been over 9 months since you had last seen any of these people. You had been living back and forth between New York City and London basically your whole adult life and just got back to London three days ago after being away for the most of the year. You were overjoyed to be back. You and Kassie were the only ones sitting on the couch to the right of the room, with a few others scattered throughout the living room. Some were standing and giggling by the fireplace, sipping on something strong you assumed based on how loudly they were conversing. There was a slightly less intoxicated couple sitting on the couch opposite of Kassie and yourself. You knew them well enough, although last time you saw them they were nothing more that friends and now they are very clearly together romantically. You didn’t mind though, not at all. You didn’t mind the noise, the increasingly drunker strangers and friends that passed through, you didn’t even mind the already almost-blackout strangers who thought they knew you and engulfed you in a rather tight hug. You felt relaxed and at home, as you always did when around Jeff and Glenne.

After about fifteen minutes of Jeff chatting Harry’s ear off about how excited he and Glenne were to be getting married, Glenne grabbed Harry’s arm. “Oh my god! H, I haven’t even introduced you to everyone yet have I?” She asked enthusiastically.

“I don’t believe you ‘ave” he replied with a small chuckle as he ran his free hand through his rapidly growing curls.

Before he knew it Glenne was guiding him through the house introducing him to a few people he hadn’t met yet. As they made their way into the living room he saw two girls sipping on what looked like martinis sitting on one of the couches. The two women were partially intertwined. One of them stood out though, almost like she controlled the room without even speaking. Harry stared at her, barely listening to Glenne talking beside him. She was incredibly beautiful, he thought. Her eyes and hands were effortlessly working together to capture everyone’s attention without even speaking. She wore a confidence he hadn’t seen before, even with his vast experience with super models and other celebrities alike. She looked like a royal, even in casual attire. He stood there, in the doorway completely stunned and rather confused as to why on earth he had never met her before.

“Earth to H?” Glenne said as she overdramatically waved her left hand in front of his face.

“Oh, um.. sorry, what were ya sayin’?” He replied as he quickly moved his gaze away from the stunning girl and back to his friend.

“Nevermind, cmon I need to indroduce you to Y/N and Kassie.” She mumbled quickly as she pulled him by his hand towards the very girl he was gawking at just moments before.

In the middle of Kassie making a dad joke in classic Kassie form, you spot Glenne walking over to where you are sitting rather excitedly with someone you immediately recognize as Harry Styles. Of course you knew who he was, and that Jeff was his manager and friend but you never had the chance to actually meet him. With both your schedules being as intense and unpredictable as they were it just never happened. You were a fan of his music, he is a very talented man but you definitely didn’t consider yourself a “stan”.

As they approached, Glenne turned to Harry and said “H, this is kassie!” As she pointed at her.

“Kassie works for Universal. Kassie this is Harry” she continued.

“S’ nice to meet you, Kassie” Harry said with a polite smile as he bent over to shake her hand lightly.

“And this” Glenne started as she turned her attention onto you. “Is one of my best friends, y/n! She’s the designer for KIWI” she finished with a smirk and a quick pat on your knee.

“Designer and founder actually love” You said as you glanced at Harry.

You extended your right arm out for him to shake and said “lovely to meet you, Harry. I’m y/n”. He seemed nervous which made you smirk a little. You thought it was cute.

As you placed your much smaller hand in his large ring clad one he responded with “S’ lovely to meet you too y/n. Big fan of your work”. His hand was a little sweaty but very strong and the shake itself was demanding which you liked.

Harry didn’t like how nervous he was talking to you, he’s not usually so anxious to speak to beautiful women. But, something about your incredibly strong eye contact and the way you said his name made his knees want to give out. He hadn’t lied when he said he is a fan of yours, he genuinely is. He loves your designs. Your ability to create pieces he’d never seen before, pieces completely out of the norm yet so easily fashionable was astounding to him. He had even worn some of your designs on tour and for a few interviews.

You took a sip of the martini that you held delicately in your right hand with a small hum in appreciation for his compliment. “M’ a fan of yours also, fine line is great” you reply as you glance down at your glass to find it empty. Harry takes a moment to revel in the fact that you enjoyed his latest work, before seeing your empty glass.

“Let me get ya’ a drink” he blurted out, not wanting the conversation to end.

“Mm I’ll come with” you agreed with a smile. Harry grabbed your hand again to help you up off the couch and away from Kassie who was now giggling with Glenne about something.

Harry keeps your hand in his as he guides you towards the bar. Once the two of you approach the bar he reaches for the glass in your hand and asks “what would ye like?”. You move your glance away from his and over to the large bar.

“I think we should do shots” you say with a big smile that makes Harry’s heart beat just a bit quicker.

“Shots it is then, love” he says with a small chuckle as he puts your dirty glass down and grabs two clear glass shot glasses.

“What liquor are we thinkin’?” He asked as he looks over the options.

“Oooh tequila for sure” you say confidently as you point at the bottle of expensive tequila.

“Mmm great choice” he praises as he grabs the bottle and proceeds to pour you each a shot.

“Cheers” you smirk as you grab your shot glass and clink it against the one in his hand. You make eye contact again as you down the shots in sync. As you lower your now empty shot glasses you realize how close you are to him, only about a foot and a half. Being this close to him makes you realize how handsome he is, his eyes are incredibly green and his shoulders are perfectly wide. His chocolate coloured curls sat harmoniously atop his head, one piece falling in front of his face seemingly by accident but it looked as it is meant to be there.

As Harry brought his shot glass away from his mouth and felt the strong burning sensation of the tequila making its way down his throat he stared at you. You’re eyes ostensibly checking him out, or atleast that’s what he convinced himself you were doing. In fact the combination of the warmth he felt in his stomach from the strong liquor and the minimal proximity between you and him was making him feel slightly dizzy. You truly were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He wanted to know everything about you, where you were born, your passions, your worst fears, what makes you wet, what makes you angry, who you care about. Literally anything and everything you were willing to tell him he was more than happy to hear about.

“How’d you know Jeff and Glenne?” Harry finally asked. You smiled as you thought about how you met them.

“Jeff and I have been friends since collage, and I met G about a year after we graduated. I indroduced them actually” you explained as your smile grew at the fond memories.

“Jeff manages you right?” you asked as you turned back to the bar and started making yourself another gin martini. Harry nodded as he watched you

“yeah e’ does, but we’re great mates too. A’ve been since before he started managing meh” he said as he turned towards you a bit more

“s’ crazy we a’vent met before this” he continued as you finished making your drink.

“It is, a shame really” you smirked. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m off to powder room” you took another sip of your drink as you began to walk away.

Harry watched you walk away, shamelessly staring at your bum and god was it nice. He was stunned to be quite frank. He wasn’t completely sure what it was about you (other than the obvious of course) that made him so enamoured by you but he couldn’t help it. He ran his hands over his face and let out a huff. Looking around and taking in his surroundings properly for the first time since he laid eyes on you, he noticed less people were there. He decided he’d find Jeff so he could more subtly wait for you to return.

When you come out of the bathroom you look around and notice there are seemingly only a few people left at the party. You grab your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans to check the time, the screen illuminates and shows 1:37AM. You let out a small huff, put your phone back in your pocket and decide to go find Jeff. You walk down the hall from the bathroom and into the living room to find Jeff and Glenne sitting on the couch you were sat at earlier. Beside them was Kassie and sat on the couch directly adjacent from them was Harry and a man you’d never met before.

“Hi loves” you say as you strut over to sit next to the man you’d never met. “Don’t believe we’ve met, I’m y/n” you say confidently with a smile and extend your hand for him to shake, which he does.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Mitch. I’m Harry’s guitarist” he says with a slightly awkward smile.

“Oh lovely” you nod. “Y/n is the designer for KIWI, Mitch” Harry says as he tilts his head forward a bit to look at you over where Mitch is sitting in between the two of you. You giggle slightly at the sudden interruption.

“Oh! That’s sick. We all love your work” Mitch says with an even bigger smile as he looks at you again.

“Thank you” you reply as you smile back at him just as enthusiastically.

“H is pretty much obsessed really, pretty sure he bought out most of your fall collection” Mitch gushes as he nudges his head towards Harry slightly. Harry gives Mitch a bit of a menacing look as he feels his cheeks heat up.

“Mmm obsessed is he?” You smirk as you move your glance back to Harry and take a long sip of your drink.

“Anybody who isn’t would be ‘ave to be blind, love” Harry said as his lips turned up into a smile, showing off his infamous dimples.

Just as you were about to reply to Harry’s bold compliment you heard Kassie let out a loud yawn from across the other couch. You turned your attention towards her as she said “think I’m gonna head out guys, it’s getting late”. She got up and Jeff and Glenne did as well. Kassie gave Jeff a hug.

“Think I’ll be going also, I haven’t watered my cactus since yesterday” you giggled as you walked over to hug Glenne and say your goodbyes. As soon as you let go of your embrace you noticed Harry was stood directly beside you.

“I’ll walk you t’ the door” Harry insisted and you nodded, following him to the front door.

“Love you Jeff! Love you G!” You yelled behind you.

Once stood in the entry way with Harry he said “really was lovely t’ meet ya”. You smiled and gave him a short hug.

“was lovely to meet you too Harry, thanks for havin a shot with me”. You went to grab the door handle to leave but Harry stopped you by grabbing your wrist lightly.

“Do ya think I could get ya numba’?” He asked as your gaze met his yet again.

You hummed in faux thought “now where’s the fun in that, love” you replied with a smirk as you turned back around, releasing your wrist from his grasp, opened the door and left.

#solo harry #harry x reader #harry styles #fandom #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #oneshots #Harry #one direction #x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #mitch rowland #fine line #series #harry styles x fem!reader

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dindjarindiaries · 4 years

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Thunder - Chapter 1: Warm Front

gif via @hvitserkk

summary: Frankie and Luciana escape a party for some much-needed peace and quiet spent with each other, and unspoken feelings start to stir.

warnings: mentions of death, alcohol abuse, drunkenness, partying

rating: R

word count: 3.816k

masterlist

chapter 1: warm front

“I fuckin’ hate parties.”

Frankie sips his beer to hide his smile as Luciana laughs alongside him. “Yet, you’re always at them,” Luciana reminds him, sipping whatever concoction’s in her red Solo cup as she gives his bottle a flick. “And why don’t you ever use a cup? Are you ‘too cool’ for that?”

“Shut up,” Frankie mutters, biting back a smile as he nudges her shoulder. “I just prefer it ‘authentic.’” Luciana laughs as she lets out a sigh, leaning back against the corner of the wall.

Luciana’s not wrong. Even though Frankie hates parties with every fiber of his being, he’s almost always here at Benny’s frat house, finding himself unable to reject the time spent with his best friends. Over the past few years of college, Frankie’s found a friend group that’s become more like a family, unstable at times but also reliable. Tom, Will, and Benny are all people he met within his first week at school—but Santiago and Luciana have been close to his side ever since high school. Him and his four brothers have already planned to move into their next phase of life together serving their country.

Really, Frankie just wants to fly.

He always has. Ever since he was a kid, Frankie’s dreamed of being able to touch the sky. His gaze drifted upwards no matter what time of the day it was, admiring either the clouds or the stars above. His mother used to tell him he could catch a star if he got up high enough, and it would fit right in his pocket. His father used to say he could paint with the clouds, using the edge of a wing as a brush. Frankie would tell them that he’d paint his dad a portrait of their old family dog, and he’d get two stars—one for his mom and one for himself.

That was until his mother finally gave way to her condition, and his father wasted himself away with Jack and Jim Beam not too long after.

But now, Frankie’s got a new family who cares just as much about his dreams of flying. Being the “dad” friend already promised him a spot as their calm and collected pilot, anyway. Santiago always told him that he was the person who steered the group in the right direction—so it made sense that he’d do the same in the air someday. Luciana agreed with those claims. Even though she’s not going to follow the same path as the rest of them, she’s always said that Frankie needs to be in the air. He’s the only one she’d trust, she often tells them all.

So, it’s no surprise that Frankie’s once again found himself on the fringes of another one of Benny’s wild frat parties, keeping a watchful eye over his four brothers as Luciana keeps him company at his side. She’s not big into parties, either—just one of their many similarities. It’s what’s made Frankie draw so close to her, especially over the past few years at college. They understand each other like no one else does. Her and Santiago have been there for Frankie ever since his father started fading, and they practically adopted him into their family. But Frankie would never use the label “sister” on her. He doesn’t know why he can’t do it.

He thinks he might be starting to get an idea as to why, now.

Frankie looks over to see Luciana bobbing her head to the hip-hop tunes that blare out of Benny’s speakers—a firm rule for his parties: current hits only. Her brown eyes are sparkling as she watches the crowd of drunken college kids dancing in front of them, and Frankie likens the appearance of them to that of fresh honey dripping into a warm mug of tea. She has her dark hair tied back in a loose bun behind her head, and a few pieces fall around her face as her free hand tucks them away absentmindedly. Freckles adorn her nose and cheeks, and Frankie has to try to suppress the warmth in his chest when he thinks about how fitting they are for her.

Luciana soon catches Frankie’s eye, and she raises an eyebrow at him curiously. “What?” she asks, observing his close stare. She covers her mouth with her hand self-consciously. “Is there something in my teeth?”

“No! No,” Frankie assures her, chuckling a bit as he takes a hold of her wrist and brings her hand back down. “I just—” Frankie pauses, trying to think of a way to cover his ass, “—I was making sure you’re still awake.”

Luciana furrows her brow as she laughs at him. “I’m not sure how anyone could fall asleep easily here, Frankie,” she remarks, taking another sip of her drink.

Frankie tries to laugh it off, tipping the brim of his hat on his head before taking a swig from his bottle. “If I wasn’t standing, I probably could.”

“I know,” Luciana agrees, nudging his shoulder playfully. “You’re an old man stuck inside a college kid’s body, Francisco.”

Frankie wrinkles his nose at the sound of his full name. “What did you call me, Luciana?”

Luciana gasps lightly and narrows her eyes at Frankie. “Are you trying to full-name me back?”

“And what if I am?”

Luciana doesn’t get a chance to answer before Benny suddenly stumbles over to them, throwing his arms around their shoulders. Frankie and Luciana both fall back a bit at the sudden taking of his weight. Some of the drink in his cup sloshes on Frankie’s shoulder, and he holds back a heavy sigh as the reeking scent of vodka hits his nostrils. “Franksters! Luci-Goosey!” Benny greets them, his voice slurred. “What are y’all doing in the corner?”

“Minding our own business,” Frankie answers simply, earning a snort from Luciana.

“Oh, c’mon,” Benny scoffs. “You’re always avoidin’ the fun! You should go dance!”

“I’d rather watch people make asses of themselves,” Luciana asserts, gesturing to the main part of the house where some hotshot’s just tried to do a backflip—and ended up kicking one of their buddies in the face while also landing straight on their back.

“Fuck, y’all are boring as hell,” Benny whines, taking his own weight again as he lifts his arms from Frankie’s and Luciana’s shoulders. “But thanks for comin’!”

“We always do,” Frankie reminds him, slapping his shoulder in a friendly manner before he stumbles somewhere else.

Frankie and Luciana share a glance, barely able to contain their laughter as they shake their heads. That was the typical Benny interaction they’ve been waiting for, always being urged to do something other than sit in the corner where they’re more comfortable. Frankie wouldn’t change a thing about it.

“Luce, where’s your brother?” Frankie suddenly questions, looking over at Luciana with a raised brow. He’s lost track of his Santiago, Will, and Tom, and he wonders if they’ve gone somewhere else in the house.

Luciana shrugs. “Probably fucking up a nice game of pong,” she confesses honestly, causing Frankie to chuckle to himself.

It’s true—the minute Santiago gets more than a few drinks in him, he’s an absolute shitshow. Any drinking game he touches turns to chaos. Santiago already has a high energy about him, and so it gets intensified when the alcohol starts pumping through his veins. Frankie doesn’t know how he does it, and sometimes he wonders what it’s like to be the life of a party. It’s a role he knows he’ll never fill.

“Hey,” Luciana’s voice suddenly draws Frankie out from his thoughts. He looks back over to see her looking up at him with a sparkle in her eyes, one that makes Frankie want to smile instinctively. “Are you ready to get out of here? I would kill for some pizza right now.”

Frankie laughs, nodding as he finishes off his bottle. It was his only drink over the course of the hour they’d lasted at the party, and so he doesn’t have to deny her request to go for a drive as they head out to his truck. It’s a rusty red color, worn from its years of use but still going as strong as ever. The guys and Luciana have often told him that it’s a perfect reflection of himself—but Frankie doesn’t try to think about it too hard. Going in deep isn’t something he’s mastered yet.

They get into the truck, and as soon as Frankie starts it up, the classic rock station starts to play. It’s his favorite—his parents loved to blast it when he was growing up. He has to suppress the smile that grows when he sees Luciana’s eyes light up out of the corner of his eye. “Ugh, Frankie, you have the best fuckin’ taste in music,” she tells him, closing her eyes as “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac flows out from the speakers. “I swear to God. Sing it, Stevie girl.”

Frankie chuckles, taking off for the local pizza place as Luciana hums along to the tune. He looks over every once in a while to see her gazing out of the open window, as if she’s lost in her own little world. Frankie’s always admired the way she does that so easily. Luciana often escapes into the worlds of her creation, but she somehow also stays grounded to her reality. She’s always been the person that’s able to get Frankie to escape his reality if even for a little bit—and that’s just one of the many reasons why he’s so drawn to her. It’s reaching a dangerous level, and he knows it.

It’s not a conversation he’s had with Santiago yet, but he knows exactly what would result from it. Santiago and Luciana are practically attached at the hip. They’re the kind of twins that truly share everything with each other—and should his sister’s heart be placed into Frankie’s hands, he knows Santiago would be on his case all the time. To make shit easier, Frankie knows Santiago wouldn’t let that happen in the first place. Luciana is off limits in any sense other than friendship, so Frankie doesn’t even let himself get there mentally. For now.

“Thunder only happens when it’s rainin’,” Luciana joins in with Stevie’s voice, and Frankie bites back a smile upon hearing it. “Players only love you when they’re playin’.” Luciana releases a light sigh, finally looking back over at Frankie as he navigates the dark roads. “I wish it was raining right now.”

“Yeah?” Frankie remarks, raising an eyebrow. “Why? Are you a pluviophile, now?”

Luciana giggles softly. “I always have been, Frankie. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed.”

Frankie shrugs, turning into the parking lot of the pizza place. “When have we ever talked about rain?”

“Fair point. I guess we have to do it more often.”

Frankie nods, putting the car in park and flashing her a quick smile. “I guess so.” He starts to get out of the car—leaving it running so that Luciana can stay inside with the tunes playing—but pauses as he holds up a finger and narrows his eyes in concentration. “A pepperoni eight-cut with the Italian parmesan crust?”

“You know me so well, Morales.” She offers a bright smile, one that involuntarily makes Frankie’s chest warm up as he completely gets out of the truck and heads inside. He places their order and waits for it, trying not to drown in his thoughts as he pictures himself flying high above them. He even tries his hand at daydreaming, attempting to envision himself painting his way through the clouds. He can see the world so small beneath him, putting himself in a place where he doesn’t have to think about everything he’s left there. All that would matter is keeping his eyes on the horizon and steering ahead—and maybe even capturing a star when the sun sets.

His daydream’s soon interrupted by the finishing of his order, and he takes the box with a low thank-you before heading back inside the truck. Frankie sets it on the backseat, chuckling when Luciana dramatically inhales the scent of the freshly baked pizza.

“God damn, do they make some heavenly shit here,” Luciana comments, causing Frankie to laugh harder as he starts to head back to the house. “I can’t wait to devour that.”

“That makes two of us,” Frankie agrees, glancing over at Luciana quickly as he drives on.

“Four slices for each of us,” Luciana reminds him. “It’s perfect.”

“Four?” Frankie scoffs playfully. “Last time, you could only handle three.”

“Oh, fuck off, Flyboy,” Luciana retorts. “Last time we also got garlic knots. I can only hold so much at once.”

“Sure, Luce. Sure.” Frankie laughs as Luciana swats at his shoulder, and he sees her shaking her head with a hidden smile as she crosses her arms.

They spend the rest of the drive listening to the tunes of the radio, sitting in an otherwise peaceful silence. It’s not too long until Frankie’s pulling into the long driveway of the house. It’s a respectively large space, split between the boys and Luciana. Everyone’s able to have their own rooms—save for Will and Benny, but Benny usually splits his time up between staying there and staying at the frat house—and they never let it get too crazy. Parties are always held at Benny’s frat house, which helps to keep their own home in shape. If it’s just the six of them, they’ll keep the party to themselves, but otherwise their home is like a sacred space just for their little family. Frankie wouldn’t have it any other way.

Just as Frankie’s about to turn the engine off, Luciana stops him, keeping his hand from touching the keys as she shakes her head. “Let’s eat in here,” she suggests, already starting to reach back for the pizza. “I’m really feeling these songs right now.”

“I can turn the radio on in the house,” Frankie reminds her, gesturing with his thumb to the house behind him.

“Yeah, but there’s something about it coming through the truck speakers.” Luciana sets the pizza box down onto the center console, opening it and taking a slice for herself. “It just really hits deep.”

Frankie snorts, also taking a slice and folding it in half. “Alright, but if you get grease stains on my seats, I’ll have no choice but to fucking kill you.”

“You got it, ‘dad,’” Luciana jokes, and Frankie shakes his head as she lets out a laugh. They continue to eat and bop along to the songs that play, mostly accompanied by Luciana’s random commentary on the selections. “Have you ever thought about how fuckin’ creepy this song is?” she reflects when The Police’s “Every Breath You Take” starts playing. “Like, it’s a love song, but he’s basically like ‘I’m always watching you.’ That shit is terrifying.”

“What, you wouldn’t find it romantic if someone was watching you all the time?” Frankie teases her while he moves onto his third piece of pizza, pleased to find that he still hasn’t gotten a grease stain on his jeans yet.

“Hell no!” Luciana lets out a cut laugh, shaking her head as she also goes for her third slice.

“Okay, fair.” Frankie pauses to bite off a piece and chew it up, contemplating his next few words as he does so. “Then, what would you consider romantic?”

“Jesus, there’s like… so many things.” Luciana’s gaze drifts to the roof of the car as she thinks, chewing on her food as she does so. Frankie waits curiously for her response, continuing to eat as he watches her think. “I mean, for starters, you can never go wrong with pulling the gentleman card. You know, like opening doors and pulling out chairs.”

“That’s not cheesy?”

“No! If anything, the fact that it’s going out of style is so depressing to me.” Luciana clicks her tongue and shakes her head, and Frankie can tell by the way she’s narrowed her eyes that she’s thinking again. “Honestly, the most important thing is just knowing what she likes. You gotta make sure you’re playing her favorite songs and bringing her to her favorite places—without her having to tell you ahead of time. Picking up on those hints along the way is so important.”

“Noted.” Frankie finishes off his third piece after he speaks, watching as Luciana raises an eyebrow at him.

“Plan on being romantic anytime soon, Morales?”

Frankie scoffs, shaking his head as he reaches for his last slice. “No, not likely. But it’s good to know.” He shovels a bite into his mouth, hoping it’ll keep him from having to speak again. Frankie soon realizes he’s unsuccessful, as Luciana’s head has now tilted in a curious manner at him. He releases a sigh, waiting until he finishes chewing to go on. “Maybe, one day, I’ll be able to take someone up to the sky with me. Show them the clouds. Catch a star for them.” Frankie shrugs. “Just—y’know—that’s probably not something I’ll have soon.”

Luciana smiles a bit, but Frankie easily sees a hint of darkness in her gaze. “That’s sweet, Frankie. But why don’t you think you can have it soon?”

Frankie’s breath catches in his throat. Why does he think he can’t have it soon? Because he’s not ready to let his heart be taken? Because he’s so guarded that only five other people know his true heart, but still don’t even know all of it? Because he’s denying himself a painful truth? Frankie doesn’t have a fucking clue. But Luciana’s still waiting for an answer, her dark gaze glittering as she waits to take her last slice into her mouth. “Not enough time, I guess. And how can I show someone the sky when I don’t even have my piloting license yet?”

“Fair point,” Luciana agrees, finally digging into her pizza. Frankie holds back a sigh of relief, continuing with his slice as well. They finish off their servings in comfortable silence, letting the sounds of classic rock lull them into a rhythmic state of conscious slumber. Frankie’s thoughts solely drift to the words of the singers, and he pictures himself hearing the songs play as he returns home from piloting school—his mother singing along with them as he shows her his license. She would smile at him in that endearing way she always used to and playfully ask if they can play Journey on their way up when she finally gets to fly with him. I want some Journey on our first journey!, she always used to joke with Frankie. Now, he just tries not to listen to Journey at all.

His trance is broken when Luciana suddenly lets out a gasp, and Frankie feels alert for a moment until he realizes that a new song’s come on the radio. He tunes his ears in and hears the beginning instrumental of Foreigner’s “Waiting For a Girl Like You”—a guilty pleasure song of his that he’s not willing to reveal to anyone else. But it must be Luciana’s, too, because she’s looking at Frankie with excitement in her dark gaze. “This… this is my fuckin’ song,” Luciana tells him, clearing her throat as the lyrics soon come in.

“Of all songs, you chose one of classic rock’s cheesiest?” Frankie jokes.

Luciana places a hand on her chest, pretending to be hurt. “It’s not cheesy. It’s romantic. And it’s an absolute classic.”

Frankie raises his hands in fake surrender. “Alright, Luce, you got me there. Go ahead, freak out.”

Luciana narrows her eyes at him, laughing it off as she starts to let herself jam along. “Maybe I’m wrong, won’t you tell me if I’m comin’ on too strong?”

“This heart of mine has been hurt before, this time I wanna be sure…” Frankie murmurs the words under his breath, hoping Luciana won’t hear it over her own singing. He would never hear the end of it.

“I’ve been waiting!... for a girl like you, to come into my life.” Luciana sings the words unashamedly, closing her eyes as she spreads her arms wide. Frankie chuckles lightly—more in admiration of her free spirit than in amusement. Luciana finishes the chorus and shakes her head, looking at Frankie with a raised brow. “I’m telling you. A fuckin’ classic.”

“Hey, I believe you,” Frankie retorts, chuckling as he releases a sigh. He looks around, seeing the dark street around them. “I think we’ve overstayed our welcome in this truck. She’s gonna be begging for mercy if we don’t go inside soon.”

“Shit, I didn’t even think about that,” Luciana confesses, reaching for the empty pizza box. “I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Frankie assures her. “It was worth it.”

Luciana simply smiles in response, setting Frankie’s chest ablaze yet again as they walk inside the house together. They remain silent as they settle in, soon heading upstairs to their respective bedrooms. Before they part, Luciana stops Frankie for a moment, her hand reaching for his arm. Frankie faces her with his brow raised. “Thank you, Frankie,” she says softly, her dark gaze looking straight into his. “For always being there for me—and getting some damn good pizza with some hella’ good tunes.”

Frankie chuckles softly, shaking his head at her. “You don’t have to thank me, Luci. I enjoy it just as much.”

Luciana widens her smile, bidding Frankie goodnight before she disappears into her room. Frankie bites back his own, entering his room and preparing for bed. He flops down onto it with a sigh, hating the way his mind feels cloudier than usual. He’s being swept by a feeling he’s had before—but it’s starting to almost overpower him now. Frankie’s afraid he won’t be able to ignore it anymore.

The lyrics to the song are stuck in his head. It’s a torturous reminder of himself and his own heart—and that’s why he’s annoyed when the lyrics run through his mind. It feels so right, so warm and true, the words taunt him. I need to know if you feel it too. Does he, though? Because Frankie’s pretty damn certain he’s content with ignoring every feeling he has. He’s been doing it ever since his mother passed—and he’s pretty sure he can keep doing it.

But then he thinks on that chorus: I’ve been waiting for a girl like you to come into my life. And Frankie can’t help wondering if that’s exactly what’s happening. As he hides himself underneath his covers to sleep, he hears distant thunder rumble outside, and he smiles for the fact Luciana will get her pluviophile moment—even if she’s asleep.

next part: chapter 2: cold front

thunder tag list: @youhavereachedtheendofpie @charmantbarnes @theindiealto @fangirl-and-stuff @phoenixhalliwell @maybege @amarvelousmandalorian @seawhisperer @mrsparknuts @saltywintersoldat @softpedropascal @i-hide-inside-my-head @sunshinepascal

permanent tag list: @mikahid @theforceofdarkandlight @stilllivindue2spite @givemethatgold @xbrujita @mandalorianspace @blushingwueen @sevvysaurus @myakai13�� @thisis-theway @beskars @rachelloveseveryone @theindiealto @hiscyarika @burningsoulbloodyheart @wickedfrsgrl @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @bookwafflefangirl @charliepeaceout @lavenderl3mons

#i know it's like 2 am so y'all won't be around for a while #i'm waiting for the mando doc lol #also i love frankie please #my BABY #i'm making up his canon #we'll go with it #frankie morales #francisco morales #catfish morales #frankie morales fic #catfish morales fic #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #thunder fic #dindjarindiaries

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alovesthis · 3 years

Text

All Things Must Pass -- Dean Winchester CHAPTER SIX

Dean Winchester x (female) Reader Fic

Fic Summary: Reader and Dean Winchester reunite after not seeing each other in a few years, ever since he told her to leave him and his issues behind. Reuniting wasn’t what you expected it would be like because of past feelings, memories and a life threatening situation that was placed upon Dean Winchester.

Warnings: none!

Word Count: 2k

CHAPTER SIX

1992, Texas - last holiday as a family

It was snowing heavily and nonstop in Texas that year. Although it was melting to the ground, you appreciated the white snowflakes falling against the apartment window making it feel like the holidays.

At just fifteen years old, there were so many things on your holiday list of things you wanted that were either too expensive or seemed too childish for you. It was at that age, you would just stick to asking for fairy tales and other books for the rest of your teenage years. And if you ever received something that felt too young for you, you would pass them down to Stevie. You were sitting on the faded blue couch in your family's fourth apartment of the last couple of years, watching your parents sit at the dinner table with a bunch of books spread out. They were researching for someone they knew, and since it was the holidays they wanted to get things done by tonight, in order to spend time with you and Stevie.

Since you were born, your parents were trying to balance a normal life and hunting. It wasn't easy, but they were managing. See before they had you, they met on a hunt and occasionally ran into each other a few times until they decided to team up. They met other hunters and friends along the way, creating lifelong friendships and ended up falling for each other and having you.

As you sat there, a book in your hands as the record player spins some Fleetwood Mac, your mom's favorite, you wonder if you'll end up doing what your parents do. Hunting. They didn't hide it from you, they told you last year because you were smart. They still kept it from Stevie, she was too young to understand and needed to be protected. Stevie comes running out the small bedroom you two shared, holding some thin children's book ranting at the top of her lungs. She was reading some mystery book, flailing around claiming she solved the case before the main character.

"Stevie! I know you love these books, but you have to take it easy." Your mom laughs as she stands up from the wooden cheap chair and grabs her, throwing herself down on the couch right next to you. Stevie starts giggling once mom starts tickling her.

"Alright girls," Your father stands up and walks over to stand in front of the three of you with a smile that he's trying to hide. "Got some bad news."

You sit up quickly, pushing your book off your legs and panic. "Please don't tell me you guys gotta go? I mean, it's the holiday season and..."

"Seriously, Travis?" Your mom shakes her head. "Don't scare them like that."

"Ah, sorry." He sits down next to you and pulls you into him. "The bad news is that we won't be around for New Years. But...we have a few days until we gotta go."

"Bad news first then the good news." Your mom turns to you. "That's always the best order to go in when you gotta tell someone something."

"So, what's the good news!?" Stevie jumps out of her arms and starts to dance around the room to the music.

You and your parents smile, watching Stevie "dance" along the dull creamy colored carpet under yellow toned light, to 'Everywhere'.

"The good news is that you get a few more gifts than normal." Dad smiles.

"Yeah, our friend Bobby helped us out with these." Your mom smiles as she stares at yo and Stevie. "And, you get to open them tonight."

"Only if you girls eat your damn vegetables tonight. I swear, it's like you're both allergic."

On this last holiday with your parents, something you never thought was a possibility, they made dinner together with music playing loudly in the living room. It wasn't rare to have these nights, but it didn't happen all the time either. After dinner, the four of you were sitting in the living room, which was literally five steps away from the table and kitchen. A few gifts were wrapped for you and Stevie. Your mom sits next to you as Stevie tears through gifts and plays around with them with your dad.

"I want you to know, Y/N," Your mom begins. "What you dream, what you read...everything you want, you can have it. What your father and I do, doesn't have to be your life okay? But it's okay if you want it to be. You have so many options. Although I don't necessarily want you in that life, I know once you're older you'll be capable to make these decisions on your own."

Your mom sits down on the floor with you and hands you the gift, watching your eyes glisten from the white lights that hang on the walls for holiday decoration.

Your fingers gently opened the brown thick paper covering as Stevie ripped through hers. The skinny wool string that was tied around it had come off as you pushed the gift under it, revealing dark green leather. It was The Little Mermaid, an old edition but it was beautiful. Gold lettering shinning on the cover and catching the white lights that were hung up behind you.<em>

"The Little Mermaid." You smile.

"Do you remember when I used to read this to you before bed?"

She also meant if you remembered her reading some of it before she would leave for hunts.

"Yeah, I do." You placed the book down and engulf your mom into the biggest hug. You always loved reading ever since you would listen to her voice reading you fairy tales, classic stories and books that centered on a character taking on anything that came your way.

"Thank you, mom. I really love it." You pull away a smile.

"I love you." Your mom wraps her arm around you and leans against the couch.

"I love you too, mom." You close your eyes and hold onto her arm.

"Cath, let's say we do some hot chocolate for the girls and they get ready on the couch for a movie or two." Your dad says, and Stevie jumps up and runs over to your mom.<em>

"Sure thing." She smiles and runs her fingers through your hair. "Can you handle Stevie for a bit?"

"When can I not?" You laugh as you grab your sister and start messing around with her as she continues to laugh and yell at the top of her lungs.

As your parents worked together in the kitchen and to make tonight special before they go on one of their last hunts, you sit there on the couch holding the book you were gifted up against your chest. Stevie sits close by you, her hands playing around with some toy that she unwrapped not too long ago. You watch your parents stand close by each other as they make snacks and hot coco for everyone. Your dad's arm wraps around your mom's neck and you see him leaning down to kiss her on the top of her head.

Sitting there, you smile softly to yourself as you begin to wonder if maybe one day you'll be just as lucky as them. Whether it's in the hunting life or not, you were silently wishing you you'd be as smart, strong and brave like your mom and rave and confident like your dad. What they had, you wanted.

That was the last holiday you and Stevie had with your parents. Like they said, they wouldn't be home for New Years. But a week after that, your parents came home a mess, scurrying around trying to get things packed and moving. It was that very night you realized they were in trouble. Leaving your apartment, you watched your parents get ripped away from you and Stevie by something, as another hunter who went by the name John Winchester saved your life.

2007 - inside the impala, on the road.

"You alright over there?"

You start blinking out of your trance of the one last good memory you've held on with your family. Clearing your throat, you roll down the impala window to get some air and take a few seconds before you turn your head to Dean.

"Yeah, I'm fine I guess."

"Are you sure, because you look like you're sick or something."

"I said I'm fine." You snap, before sighing and realize that it's not the best to get mad right now.

"Tis the season to be merry, am I right?" Dean scoffs as he turns on the radio, pushing the dial for the sound much higher.

"Look, I'm sorry. You know I'm not the biggest fan of the holiday season."

"You and me both." Dean scoffs. "What's on your mind?"

The silence plays throughout the car for awhile, making you want to open the car door and just jump out and avoid everything. Your parents, the antagonizing memory and Dean's deal. You start to re-think the idea of sticking around with the Winchester's, not sure if you can take it anymore.

"Dean?"

He hums in response as he keeps his eyes on the road.

"I was just thinking about my parents and the holidays." You say softly as you look back out the window. "Last time I saw them...well the last time I saw them on a normal day, we had a 7great night. It's just I see all the christmas lights, all the decorations and I get to thinking about them."

"You miss them." Dean says.

"Every day, but now a little bit more." You lean against the car door and look back at Dean, wrinkling your forehead as you stare with empathy. "Then it got me thinking about you, about you know...the deal."

"Y/N." His hands tighten around the wheel, his knuckles turning pink as his posture stiffens.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, but you do know that we're here. It's not just us that's hurting...I know deep down, Dean, that you're hurting too. And that's okay, but what's not is that you're trying to hide it and I can see it."

"I'm-I'm not hiding anything." Dean says, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he drives. His right arm drops from the wheel and rests on his thigh. "Just drop it, alright?"

"Dean, all I'm saying is...it's okay to talk about things." You reach over and grab his hand to squeeze it, letting him know you're there. "I know it's been a while, and things got messy the last time we spoke. But I am here and like you used to say to me, no one has to go through life alone. Especially not this one. So Dean, please..."

Dean begins loosening his hand that is holding his thigh tightly, ready to flip his palm to face up. He doesn't want to talk, not now and not yet anyways. As it loosens, he slowly turns it over and lets his hand gently grasps on to yours. In surprise of his actions, you smile and keep your hand open, waiting for him to make the next move. A path to forgiveness between two friends and unresolved tension lingers between just the lack of inches between your hands. You're ready, but he's slowly hesitating.

And just as he's about to make a move to hold your hand, your cell phone goes off catching you two in an awkward space. As he drives, he looks over at you for a moment and you stare into his darkened green eyes After a few rings, you take your hand away and open your flip phone and answer the call.

Stevie's on the phone and Sam's driving your truck, telling you about yet another unusual case up in Michigan. She tells you that everyone should stop soon for a food break and to go over the case before traveling any further.

"Stevie and Sam have a case." You say after a few seconds. "She said to stop at the next exit for food and we'll go over it."

"Got it."

And that's all he says for the next hour in the impala, before you get to the rest stop and he begins to banter Sam and avoids the (one sided) conversation you two had just an hour ago. You don't want to push him, but you want him to know that he's never been alone in this. No matter what happened between the two of you, there will be a way to save him. Even if you can't get too close to the deal, or the demons or researching a way out, you'll be there.

not my favorite, might go back and edit eventually! but enjoy and happy holidays. i’ll be back with two chapters this week or next week just in time for christmas + it’ll be centered around the A Very Supernatural Christmas episode in s3!!

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TAGLIST (if you wanna be added just let me know and I’ll add you to future chapters!!!)

@akshi8278 @deanswaywardgirl @canonboobs @vikkiwalker

#dean winchester fic #dean x female!reader #dean winchester x you #anglovesthis #supernatural #spn #spn season 3 #supernatural season 3 #all things must pass #dean #dean x reader #female reader #spn family #deangirl #spn fandom #supernatural family

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curlyhairallday · 4 years

Text

Bump and Dumps - Part 5

Harry and Hattie are friends with benefits. Until she gets pregnant and breaks it off although Harry is trying to prove his love he has to battle with others for her attention.

It has been three weeks since Harry had asked her and she hadn’t responded. She was upset he hadn’t asked her about the idea to her first, she knew he had found her the dream house and it’s because she had always claimed their current house was a bachelor pad. Harry had been so upset when they got home he had gone to the pub and avoided her until he left for SNL. Harry didn’t like it when he couldn’t read Hattie and she knew she had left him confused. She was so confused and the hormones weren’t helping, the fact she couldn’t eat and the nauseous was keeping her up was leading to her constantly crying and feeling crap.

She had been watching SNL with Gemma who Harry had been sending round even though she knew neither him or Gemma would admit it. Hattie had been cracking up the whole time she even pissed herself when he mispronounced Shawn Mendes as she had tried many times to help him pronounce his name in the past but he just couldn’t seem to pronounce it. Her Gemma and Micheal were eating take out happily even though she knew she was being babysat, all Hattie could eat was the prawn crackers and she had sat the furthest point away from Gemma as she couldn’t stand the scent of her food and muffin had taken to sitting right on top of her as she kept feeding her little bits of prawn cracker. They were having a good evening/ morning until the pregnancy skit, then she stopped his arms over the other women even though it was just acting was rubbing her the wrong way plus the fact their legs were entangled she decided it was the pregnancy hormones but it seemed so real to her it felt like that woman was stealing her baby daddy for her own.

“Gemma, I don’t feel well I am just going to go for a quick walk to get some air.”

“We can come with you?” Gemma began getting up and clearing the plates.

“No honestly it is fine thank you though. You guys stay you can stay the night if you like? I will be back in twenty this baby just loves to make me sick.”

Hattie threw on her scarf and began to walk, she felt sick and for once it wasn’t the baby’s fault. After seeing that skit she began to think of the future and when Harry settles down and has a baby with someone else he will forget spud. She and spud will be alone and rejected and it’s because she rejected him. Although, she had to reject him he had her for so long and never did anything. She heard the album as much as she wished she hadn’t it was a jumbled love poem to Camille with aspects of sex which were her. She was his sex thing he would never love her like he had Camille and Kendall.

Harold: Did you like SNL?

She picked up her phone and dialled AJ, it was currently 6:30 as SNL hadn’t been on till 5am London time. She knew if AJ was still like uni he would be up by now probably just finished the gym even though it was a Sunday morning.

She waited outside Starbucks for him she had been right he was heading there after the gym and luckily he only lived a 15 minute walk from hers. She was nervous and not ready to see him but she needed a friend right now and one who wasn't aware of her growing problem. She wasn’t exactly looking her best the nauseous had meant she had limited sleep recently her hair was in a ponytail on her head and she was dressed in leggings Harry’s fleetwood mac shirt and his striped cardigan.

“Hey, didn’t expect you to call me?”

“I didn’t either but I could do with a chat and there is no way Emily is going to be up before 11.”

“You’re right there how is she anyway is she still traumatised from catching us against the sink” He giggled and Hattie blushed six shaded redder.

“Sadly she has caught me in a few more compromising positions, she has a way of walking in at the wrong times.”

“What do you want to drink I will get it no arguements?”

“Can I have a toffee nut latte with soya milk, please?”

“Shit make it decaf”

Hattie had remebered how sadly her love of coffee was slowly being stripped away for Spud although Spud seemed to enjoy the sweet toffee taste of starbucks and for that she was thankful. As they couldn’t seem to agree on food but drinks they had found a good compromise.

“Decaf it is.”

Aj smirked Hattie had always wondered if her and Harry had not met whether her and AJ would have been together. Two feisty solicitors they wouldn’t have time together though with AJ law was his main love and Hattie admired that in her friend.

“Here is your disgusting decaf coffee, I mean you’re a solicitor Hattie you need coffee.”

“That’s why I am cutting down all I do is drink coffee I was getting the shakes. How have you been anyway AJ?”

“I’ve been good thanks, a bit lonely working hard you know me. How about you? I see you every now and again in some paper.”

“Perks of having a famous best friend I guess.” You shrugged and took a big sip of your coffee.

“I particually liked the photo of you in The Sun.” You knew exactly which photo he was refering to but everyone had assumed it was Kendall and not you. You and Harry were hugging and his hand was groping your bum. It wasn’t a family friendly photo but because you could not see you at all it was just some brunette.

“You’re the first person to realise it was me.”

“The birth mark on your butt sold it to me. I would remember that anywhere.” Hattie was unsure how to feel about his flirting she was flattered but it also made her heart want Harry all the more.

“So are you and Harry still mates after?”

“After what?”

“You know after you dated.”

“We never dated, I haven’t had a boyfriend since Uni.”

“Well I guess that’s good for me, I mean you know I like you and I would like to see where we could go.” The fact he had said this to her like it was no big deal over coffee and for Harry it had taken him to knock her up before he could even suggest such a thing made her madder at him.

In this moment spud had also decided to forget her compromise which had forced her to dart out the door and relieve the contents of her stomach onto the pavement.

“Well that was not the reaction I was after.” Aj took to her side gently rubbing her back and holding her ponytail and she continued to vomit.

“Fuck, I am sorry. Look it wasn’t what you said honestly it was nice for someone to be upfront.”

“Why do I sense a but?”

“It no but its just I need to tell you something which may change your mind.”

“I am pregnant and sadly morning sickness is no joke apart from the fact it is all day not just the morning.”

“Umm congratulations I suppose, who is the lucky father?”

Hattie and AJ had spoken in Uni about how children were a future plan for him something he wanted when he was 35 and not a moment before. So it was unlikely he would want to date a knocked up Hattie.

“If I say please do not tell a soul, I know I can trust you it’s Harry’s.”

“I thought you didn't have anything.”

“We never dated just hooked up I guess, he never wanted more apparently it was for my own protection.”

“I am surprised you are here now, if I was him I would lock you in my house until you were mine especially if you had my child.”

“He wasn’t happy when we bumped into each other the other day he even refered to you and sink Aj.”

“Of course he did.”

Aj drove me home said he would like to see her even if it was just friends. When she opened the door she didn’t expect to find Gemma and Micheal still up as they had all stayed awake for SNL and it had been three hours since she had left for her walk.

“Oh my gosh Hattie, it’s ok Harry she is home. Hang on one moment I will pass you to her it will be easier.”

Hattie shook her head at Gemma and motioned she was going to be sick and fled the room.

“Harry she doen’t feel well the morning sickness. Is catching up to her.”

Hattie closed her door and jumped into bed feeling at peace.

When she saw all the notifications when she woke up she knew that Harry and Jeff would be livid once they saw the article she was getting tagged in it left right and centre. A fan had obviously caught Aj holding Hattie hair when she was being sick and it had gone mad Harry was being tagged left right and centre.

One fan had even said the SNL skit was obviously practice for Harry and Hattie and her new Boy friend were expecting a baby. Other headlines were not so kind

Harry BFF Wild Night!

This is one lawyer without class

She was terrified what would Harry say or her boss. She sat in bed waiting for a call she knew he was going to kill her one for being with AJ but also for being out at that hour alone.

Harold: Him…….

Hatters: We were just friends Harry and he actually seems to care about me and he didn’t have to knock me up to realise.

#Harry Styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfction #one direction #one direction fanfiction #baby #pregnancy #snl

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winterromanov · 5 years

Text

we will grow taller together - bucky x reader

PART ONE - THE GENTLE HUM OF EXISTENTIAL DREAD

parts: zero

Pairing: bucky barnes x reader

Extract: “No. No, what I’m saying is, he needs—they both need—someone. He needs someone to help look after Clover while they both get their lives back on track.” Steve pauses, looking you straight in the eyes. “Someone like you.”

Genre: romance, nanny x single father!AU

Taglist: @blindedbyyourgrace17 @verygraphicink @igotkatiepowers @welcome-to-my-studylife (taglist still open, reply/message to be tagged)

PART ONE

“Next please!”

The queue shuffles along until your face-to-face with yet another tired-looking college student, purple eye-bags visible underneath a pair of circular rimmed glasses. It’s fall dead week and if most of your customers are anything to go by, it certainly lives up to its name. Every single one of the tables spread out on the main floor of Vormir Coffee has been crammed with sleep-deprived teenagers and textbooks, meaning you and your colleagues have been swept off your feet with orders for caffeine products refills. You expect the rush to continue over the next few days as revision turns into actual mid-terms—as is tradition, you’ll be offering free chocolate muffins throughout the week by the door, because nothing heals the pain of a shitty Econ paper like chocolate muffins do.

Yet…as you look in the near-dead, distant eyes of your latest customer, you feel a pang of jealousy deep within your chest. While you’re pouring coffee into refillable mugs and forcing your best service smile (which is a difficult feat nine hours in to a ten hour shift) they’re reading and learning and absorbing.

You miss learning. God, you miss learning, even the terrible impossible chaos of one exam after another and deadlines piling up around you like sandbags. But being, y’know, poor, means there’s not much you can do about your grad school dreams, even if you do spend your free hours searching the internet for outlandish scholarships and funding schemes.

So. For now, it’s coffee. Potentially forever if you want to continue to eat and have electricity, which is just about all you can afford right now. And the occasional lipstick if you’re feeling particularly extravagant.

“What can I get you?” you ask the student, whose scruffy brown hair doesn’t look like it’s been washed in a few days. Oh well. Desperate times require desperate measures. At least you’re not his roommate. He grunts for an inevitable espresso and fishes round his wallet for some spare dollars while you get to work. Moments later you offer him the finished product and he drops the exact change into your hand, skulking away to a table without another word. Well, you’ll forgive a lack of manners during one of the most surreal weeks in the academic year.

“Hey, (Y/N).”

On the announcement of your name your glance flicks back to the remainders of the gradually quietening queue, and your face subconsciously breaks out into a grin when you finally see a customer that doesn’t look like a vacant zombie.

Steve Rogers grins back at you. He’s wearing a beanie over his blonde hair and a warm winter jacket—the temperature was freezing when you practically slid from the subway to work this morning and as the day slowly eclipses into evening, the temperature is falling back down with it. His cheeks are flushed from coming into the warm.

“Hey Steve!” you greet him cheerfully, because seeing an old friend is the perfect way to end a tiring shift. “How are you? How’s Natasha?”

Steve dips his head bashfully, like he always does when he’s asked about himself or his girlfriend. “We’re both great, thanks. What about you? It’s been a while.”

You gesture around you as an answer. Taking all the shifts you possibly can means you probably spend more time in Vormir than your own apartment. From what you can recall Steve has been back in the States for a few weeks after his most recent tour of Afghanistan; him or Natasha keep dropping you invites here and there, but you’ve been working or too dog-tired to accept them. It kind of makes you sad, as you watch your social circle shrink, but being an adult is the worst and staying alive is reasonably important to you.

“That bad, huh?” Steve asks sympathetically. You nod back, dramatically rolling your eyes.

“That bad. Always that bad, Rogers. I’m a slave to consumerism, but don’t let my boss know that.”

Steve laughs, leaning onto the counter. “I actually… (Y/N), when do you finish up here? Do you want get a drink? I’ve just got something I wanted to run by you.”

You narrow your eyes with curiosity. The clock that ticks mercilessly above the door reads six forty-two, so you’ve got less than twenty minutes left of your shift, and the look on Steve’s face is too intriguing to turn down just so you can rush home, open a bottle of cheap white wine and watch Stranger Things on Netflix. Even if you are up to the season three finale.

“I clock off at seven,” you reveal, but you nudge your head in the direction of the remaining customers who are starting to get annoyed at the hold-up. “Grab a seat. I actually have to do my job for a while longer and I’d rather not get fired because you’re distracting me.”

Steve holds his hands up in mock surrender and slowly backs away from the counter, allowing your next customer to slide into his position. You watch as he drops into a two-seater by the window, scrolling through his iPhone, a muted grin tugging at his lips.

Steve’s favourite bar is a short walk across town, the kind that is warm and dark and a little bit retro. You’ve been to Endgame before with him and Natasha, and you’d all split quarters so you could play ABBA songs on the Jukebox by the entrance. Right now it’s playing Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac, so it seems today’s patrons have taste.

You grab one of the more private booths through the back while he gets the drinks. You’ve not seen your phone since your lunch break so you take the spare seconds to scroll through your social media—less than an hour ago Natasha’s posted a photo to Instagram, both her and Steve making stupid faces in the living room of the apartment they share. It’s captioned who do I have to kill to make sure you’re not deployed again?

Your heart melts a little. Steve and Nat. Nat and Steve. Two people who have been together for longer than you’ve known them, and they just work so fucking well, two halves of the same coin and all that. Your thumb hovers over the like button for a moment before clicking it, because you’ve never had someone in your life like that. You’ve not found the other half of your coin.

Most days you’re too exhausted to really think about it. But sometimes…something will click in the back of your brain and it dawns on you like an avalanche that this might be your life forever. You’ll be serving coffee forever. You’ll be on your own forever.

Fortunately Steve slides into the seat opposite before you can go into a full-on existential crisis, but you sure as hell know that’s what will inevitably cross your mind when you’re stuck staring at the cracked ceiling of your apartment in bed tonight.

Steve’s smile is concerned as he pushes a desperado in your direction. “You look troubled.”

“When am I not?” you say with a shrug, taking a sip of your drink. The alcohol burns in your empty stomach. You haven’t eaten since lunch—maybe liquor isn’t the best idea, after all. “Anyway. As much as I love seeing you, Rogers, this isn’t just a friendly drop-by is it?”

Steve is drinking some generic American beer. He wipes his lip before speaking. “Yeah. Like I said. There was something I thought I’d run by you.”

“Ominous.” You wiggle your eyebrows. “Are you going to spend the next half an hour or so pushing a pyramid scheme you swear isn’t a pyramid scheme? Because I really didn’t think that was your style.”

“No. Not a pyramid scheme.” He shakes his head in mild disbelief, probably wondering why he’s still friends with you. “It’s more…do you remember my friend? James?” When you look back blankly, he elaborates. “Bucky. Guy I used to go to school with. Dark hair. Lost his arm in Afghan about a decade ago…”

“Oh! Oh. Bucky Barnes. James Barnes.” You feel kind of bad that the arm was what made it click, but you do remember a quiet, well-mannered guy standing in the background of a few of Steve and/or Nat’s social events over the last few years. You’ve never been formally introduced but Steve talks about him every so often, just casual mentions in conversation, nothing detailed. They’d grown up together, trained together, but their career paths parted after Bucky’s car nicked an IED on the outskirts of Kabul. Truly horrifying. “Yeah. Sure. I remember him. What about him?”

Steve grimaces. “Well, it’s a bit…complex, to explain, so I’ll just go straight into it. About seven years ago he met a girl, she got pregnant, they had a daughter.”

“Oh! I never knew he had any kids.”

“Yeah. Clover. She’s six now. Way too smart for her age, really mischievous—doing crazy things like sending vegetables in the post to the grandparents she doesn’t like and reading fucking Frankenstein. Big Mary Shelley fan, to Buck’s sheer delight. Awesome kid.”

You smirk, not sure what any of this has to do with you, but little Clover sounds exactly how you were at her age. “She does sound pretty awesome.”

“But Connie, her mom…she passed away just over a year ago in a really awful car wreck.” Steve’s face falls into a look of heartbreak, empathetic as always. “Her and Bucky haven’t been together for years but they shared custody of Clove, Connie having her a lot of the time.”

You feel something shift in your chest, like shards of glass are pressing in between your ribs. Real loss stories have always been pretty hard for you to digest, regardless of who they belong to. You think about death a lot in, like, an abstract and unreachable kind of way. You think it gives you size, an awareness of your place in the world, the universe. But that’s your own death. You’re kind of comfortable with that one day you will cease to exist. It’s just the people that you care about you fear for. And everybody cares about somebody.

“God, that’s awful, Steve,” you murmur, eyes softening. “Is he looking after her on his own now?”

Steve nods, biting his lip. “Yeah. And he’s not doing too great, (Y/N). It’s not my place to go into details about what goes on in his head, but nobody gets over the trauma he went through and goes back to before. And the loss of Connie and suddenly becoming Clover’s only parent, and her trauma, as well as trying to hold down a full-time job…like Jesus, I’m surprised he can even get up in the morning. Sometimes he doesn’t.”

You ache for Steve’s oldest friend as is only natural, but you’re still at a loss as to where this involves you. You rest your chin in your hands, looking at Steve intently. “It sounds like he’s going through a tough time. I’m really sorry. But is this…any of my business? Because you can always confide in me about things that are on your mind, but this sounds really personal.”

“No. No, what I’m saying is, he needs—they both need—someone. He needs someone to help look after Clover while they both get their lives back on track.” Steve pauses, looking you straight in the eyes. “Someone like you.”

The laugh that erupts from your chest is involuntary, but Steve’s expression is still completely serious. Is he really suggesting what you think he’s suggesting? “What? You’re asking me to be a nanny?”

“I suppose you could call it that.” When you stare at him with disbelief, he rolls his shoulders. “(Y/N). Why is this such an eccentric idea? You hate your job. Buck has a spare room at his place which, no offense, is way nicer than your apartment. You’re great with kids, you’re funny, you’re smart…and you’ve already said you think Clover sounds like an awesome kid. You two would get on great.”

“That’s all irrelevant considering a, I’m not a nanny and have no experience looking after a child in that close and intense an environment. And b, Steve, this is an eccentric idea. Other than the scraps you’ve given me I know absolutely nothing about James, and what the hell does he know about me?” When Steve’s face looks a little guilty, you roll your eyes. “Oh my god. Steve. James hasn’t even said he wants a nanny has he? He doesn’t even know you’re asking me this.”

“This would be so good for him,” Steve half-pleads, puppy dog eyes engaged, “He’s fussy about strangers and Clover, but he knows you through me. He’ll trust my judgement.”

“Steve. You can’t just go making decisions like that! This is insane.”

(Steve has a habit of thinking he knows what’s best, for himself or other people, and rampaging down that path in the pursuit of a happy ending. Sometimes people don’t need his version of a happy ending.)

Steve eventually relents, relaxing back in his seat. He’s forgotten you’re not usually one for blindly going along with one of his Heroic Schemes, preferring a more idealistic approach. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll discuss it with him first. But I think you should come along when I do that.”

“Steve.”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, but I think you should meet them both properly. You could be a good friend to him either way. It wouldn’t hurt, (Y/N). Maybe it would be good for you too.”

God, you’re way too done for this shit, your legs aching from a day of being constantly on your feet and dead inside from getting up at six this morning. Steve is not the kind of guy to give up on something he’s clearly passionate about in his quest for the greater good, and this point it is just easier to agree to his requests. Even though his idea is way too bizarre for anyone normal to actually accept.

Being a live-in nanny for a guy you barely know and his daughter, both of whom have just lost someone extremely significant in their lives? And him being totally unaware that his best friend is proposing a job he has no authority to give? Yeah, fuck that.

Steve is right about one thing, though. You do really, really hate your horrible job.

When you reluctantly nod, and Steve grins, you jab a finger in his direction. “Like you said. It means nothing. This is weird as hell, but you’re super annoying when you don’t get your own way, and I’m totally allowing you to receive all the backlash when it backfires.”

“I think I can deal with that.” He gestures at your empty bottle. “Want another drink?”

The alcohol has made your body a little lighter, but your stomach growls loudly in argument. Instead, you clamp your hands on the table. “No, but you can buy me a pizza. It’s the least you can do for me, weirdo.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, used to your directness. “Pizza it is, then.”

Okay, so maybe Steve Rogers is the most annoying person in the world, and maybe his aggressive selflessness in the hope of doing right for his friends will eventually be his downfall, but he’s usually a pretty nice guy. You sometimes forget that you’re lucky to have him.

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partyinthemysterymachine · 4 years

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🌻🌻🌻🌻 🚜 it's like a little garden!

hello lil garden <3 im gonna pick all the floweurs :3

there are like two dreams i remember pretty vividly: one, i had stigmata. (fun fact: i’m a jew) i woke up and i could feel the pain in my palms and feet. i was like. maybe in fifth or sixth grade. everything happens when i’m 13 or 14 because i have exactly zero memory and Bad Brain Disorder Origin Years just makes everything a sad mockery of mashed potatoes

the second dream i remember vividly was essentially that i discovered a door to Wonderland (and listen here u lil shits: i’m not a big Wonderland person, not even a Mad Hatter kinda gal despite whatever my past has said about me, and also my Jervis Tetch is super valid and prob one of the best out there you’re welcome) in this honestly gorgeous old mansion. the kind that’s just. tons of dark wood, narrow halls, winding and yet there’s a lot of natural light, like gorgeous. and i found a door to Wonderland and holy fucking shit

what i would give to actually find a door to that Wonderland, bye y’all peace it’s been a gas but i gotta run

so after i left i wanted to go back, and i had a rough time finding the portal and ok long story short it turned out i had to go deal with a unicorn cult (it was more intense than that but hey, cults amirite) in order to get the reagents to go back to Wonderland and i suddenly found myself falling in a huge cave and the spirit healer from WoW was there so that says a lot about where i was in my life at the time

still tryna go back to Wonderland

i made this guy in Sims4 and he’s really fuckin cute and i named him Lane Morgans. i’m gonna put his tag on this post so maybe you’ll go take a look at him and see how amazing he is but i’m just gonna jerk myself off here too

(also sidenote, Salutations (my farmer in sdv, also top notch) is his uncle and when i wrote up his first char sheet i fucked up his last name bc his last name can’t be Morgans, but i’ll give him another one Soon(tm) (no i won’t))

Lane is a retired rollercoaster engineer who is now writing romance novels. he’s doing absolutely amazingly and his twitter a mess in a good way. he wishes he was Chuck Tingle’s bff. his novels aren’t modeled after Tingle’s (hehe), he writes very well rounded, interesting, and diverse romance that doesn’t take itself seriously. because i do what i want, he’s pretty well known and on several bestsellers.

he’s like in his 40s by now i think and he’s a late transitioner. he’s a divorcee (he and his ex wife are really good friends it’s all good) and he had his son Ellis awhile back (who is just a whole dutch cookie tin of crayons and then some). at a singles mixer he met a gardener who would be his future husband and everything is amazing now

also side braids and ponytails run in the family i guess

(actually Salutations has been side ponytail like all his life and Lane was enchanted by it so he side braids. Salutations is very proud)

i still think about it honestly i was really into keeping up to date with junk food news and food product for a while there but the popular sites were starting to piss me off with their rating systems and reviews like holy entitlement and superiority complex, batman! so i dropped out of it, like the only one that is still super valid is onsecondscoop.com tho it’s been a real hot minute since

i have a lot of my parents’ vinyls and that includes The Beatles white album with some water damage bc i guess my dad knocked something over at some point but also the good stuff like Fleetwood Mac, Linda Ronstadt, America, Seals and Crofts, a lot of musicals, James Taylor, Gordon Lightfoot, Cat Stevens (now Yusuf), Earth, Wind, and Fire, Marvin Gaye and more!!! (and i left a whole shitload in chicago too) and it’s very telling about my musical tastes.

i had ordered Arctic Monkeys’s AM album and it skipped on No. 1 Party Anthem and some other song and so i was like :\ and ordered another and you’ll never guess,

a few songs stand out to me:

Gordon Lightfoot’s Approaching Lavender

Seals and Crofts’s Hummingbird

Fleetwood Mac’s Silver Springs

James Taylor’s Never Die Young, Line ‘Em Up, Shower The People

(the Fleetwood Mac and James Taylor songs are specifically the ones i was introduced to with, as in the Live versions of Silver Springs and Shower The People)

for those who don’t know i’m also a huge Enya fan (LOTR was good to me) and Dark Sky Island was sick af btw, and also Donna Lewis’s entire Now In A Minute album is pretty fuckin close to my soul

however probably my favorite song, most sacred to me, hard to explain it but just the. whew the memories attached is I Love You Always Forever

furthermore a song that still really creeps me out (that also has an origin story attached to it) is 98 Degrees a cappella cover of She’s Out Of My Life (yep! still no thanks)

i grew up around a cappella since my mom is like a lifetime member of the Sweet Adelines womens a cappella organization or w/e so yeah and i’m not ognna link this on bc it’s a bitch to find just by itself, but Lida Rose from The Music Man is also a fist clench...

now on a more depressing note but one i have mention, Spice Girls’s Viva Forever is uuuhhh hhhhhhhhh hhhhhhnnnnmmmmmmmmmmm

anyway my dad used to travel overseas for work and when i was younger he went to Germany (and he’d go back there several times after) and he brought me back my first jar of Nutella. naturally i lost my entire shit, and imagine my surprise when Nutella got really big in America lmao he’d brought that jar home like. uh. 7, 9 years prior?? idk guys, ages and math, but it was funny to me

best fucking gingerbread recipe is by Nigella Lawson and i found it in her book How To Be A Domestic Goddess and it’s right fucking here ur welcome

i’m definitely one of those people who picks a book with a cool cover, reads a couple pages and then decides if i’m taking it or not and that’s how i found like so many good books

ask me about The Passage series and how i am both in love with it and kinda mad (also lmao @ the failed TV show y’all fuckin dumb as hell)

#ches writes #oops this got hella long #does a little jig #ok i think it's about bedtime #i love u <3 #adreamingofguns

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likethetailofacomet · 5 years

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A Picture is Worth 1,000 Words... Rose of Sharon

This is my submission for the Choices Fandom Game: A Picture is Worth A Thousand Words

I was given my picture by the wonderful @bobasheebaby who not so subtly hinted that I should write this about Bastien and Annabelle, and I was more than happy to comply. I tried my actual hardest to keep this AT 1,000 words. But, you guys, I am wordy. This was so much fun, though, and I am very excited to share this piece!

A/N: This piece can be read alongside my series The Broken Bits. This takes place just three days after Bastien and Annabelle meet. If you haven’t read their first meeting, you can do so here. Also, fun fact: a “rose of sharon” isn’t actually a rose. it’s used to describe “a flower of the field or valley” but there isn’t a specific flower that is being referenced. (picture prompt appears in body of text)

Word Count: 1,263

Tunes: Rhiannon, Fleetwood Mac and Rose of Sharon, Mumford and Sons

He saw her again just three days after meeting her in the entrance hall of the palace. It was a warmer than usual spring morning and Bastien was finishing his rounds before meeting with Jackson to discuss the arrangements for the Milan trip. He made his way through the courtyard between the main building and the outer offices, the sun warm on the back of his neck. The hedges were tall but trimmed with razor precision into thick, solid walls of green. Bastien reached out and ran his hand along the waxy leaves as he passed by. He enjoyed when his patrol took him through the gardens or the courtyards. The palace was beautiful with its sculpted reliefs and oil paintings, everything dripping in gold, but it was stifling at times. A gilded cage was still a cage, and on warm days he much preferred to be outside. He turned the corner and where he would normally expect to see the violet blossoms of the giant Rose of Sharon bush; he was met instead with a shock of fiery orange hair glinting in the sun.

He reacted instinctively, not wanting to be seen, by shrinking back against the hedgerow. She sat in front of the bush, one leg stretched out, her milky white skin practically glowing against the emerald blades of grass, the other bent with a sketchbook propped against her knee. Her curls rolled down her back, some of them dancing on the breeze and blowing into her face. He watched as she used the hand that held her pencil to brush a few stray strands back behind her shoulder, only for them to blow back into her face again. It would be much easier for her if she tied it back, Bastien knew, but he found himself enjoying the fact that she hadn’t. She didn’t strike me as someone who does things because they’re easy, he thought to himself, remembering her quick comebacks and sharp wit…that playful glimmer in her eyes, the way that her cheek would get that dimple in it when she smirked at him. She does things exactly as she wants to.

He’d found himself thinking of her over the past few days, wondering if or when he’d bump into her again. He watched her for another moment as she brought her pencil back to the paper, moving it gracefully, sweeping it across her page like a magic wand, making flowers and tangled vines appear from nothing. Her toes curled in the grass, the sun in her hair and on her skin- she looked like a flower in the field, no wonder she could capture them so perfectly. He realized he’d been watching her for longer than he meant to when another breeze blew through the courtyard, shaking the blossoms and the leaves and her hair, and he knew he had to move before she turned and saw him. He stepped out from behind the hedges and started back on his path, his palms sweaty as he got closer to where she was set up in the grass.

She’s just a girl. Just say hello, what’s wrong with you? His thoughts did nothing for his confidence. You’re training to be the Captain of the King’s Guard someday, man, and you can’t talk to a pretty face? Before he could continue berating himself, he heard something and realized she was not only listening to music on a small battery operated radio, but that she was signing along. The song changed and her nimble fingers jumped to the volume dial, spinning it and making the music louder. Her outstretched leg bopped with the beat and her voice hit his ear, “Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night and wouldn't you love to love her? Takes to the sky like a bird in flight and who will be her lover?” He stutter stepped as he heard her voice, off key; she was an artist but certainly not a singer, though that wasn’t stopping her from belting the song with reckless abandon. Now you really have to say something. You’re watching her, you’re listening to her, for god’s sake, at least clear your throat. Bastien wished he could teleport to Jackson’s office so he wouldn’t have to interrupt her, wouldn’t have to pierce this perfect bubble of sunshine and song that she was enjoying. But that wasn’t an option, so he cleared his throat and took another step towards her.

“I was wondering how long you were going to stand there, Bastien,” she said between lyrics, without turning around. “This is a private concert, do you have a ticket?” she glanced over her shoulder at him and he could see a dark smudge of charcoal above her right eyebrow. She looked amused, that smirk back on her face, one cheek squished up into her sparkling eye.

Despite being caught in the act, he felt a smile creeping up his warm face, a sheepish laugh falling from his lips. He patted his pockets as she spun around, drawing her long legs up in front of her. “I seem to have misplaced my ticket,” he said, “would you happen to have another?”

Annabelle grinned at him and set her sketchbook aside. “Sorry, an act like this,” she gestured to herself, “sells out quickly. “Better luck next time, Mr. Senior Assistant.”

“Apprentice,” he corrected her, but the wink she shot him told him that she knew, and that she was teasing him. He shook his head and checked his watch. He had exactly 3 minutes before he was due in Jackson’s office, and at least a 5 minute walk ahead of him. He’d have to run. “So when’s the next show time?” he asked.

Annabelle looked down at her sketchbook, at the blossoms she’d been working on. With a smirk, she ripped the corner piece off of one of the pages and quickly turned it over, scribbling something on the back. She rose, unfolding her long legs, and crossed the space between them. She smelled like grass stains as she came closer, holding the paper out to him. “You tell me,” she said, biting her bottom lip and looking at him through her lashes.

Confused, Bastien looked down at the paper. It was one of her flowers, gorgeously lifelike, and on the back she’d written her name and a phone number, and two little x’s. When he brought his disbelieving eyes back up, she was already scooping her things back into her bag. “I’ve got to get to a meeting with my advisor. You’re probably supposed to be somewhere too,” Bastien nodded, still in awe of the drawing she’d given him. “Well, you better get wherever you need to before you’re in too much trouble to take me out sometime.” She winked again as with a toss of her hair she set off towards the palace, leaving him to shove the paper on his pocket and sprint across the courtyard to Jackson’s office.

_ _ _ _

On the final day of his post as Captain of the King’s Guard, Bastien Lykel left the room that had been his office, an age softened piece of paper in his hand, the smudged sketch of a Rose of Sharon still as lifelike as the day she’d given it to him. Ever our lives entwined, he thought to himself, recalling a poem she’d read him one day. He sighed, tucked the sketch back into his breast pocket where it had been a constant for the past twenty one years. Time to find out how true that is…

And I will surround you With a love too deep for words Hold you from the world and its curse So long as I have breath in my lungs Long as there's a song to be sung I will be yours and you will be mine Ever our lives entwined My rose of Sharon

tags: Writers: @speedyoperarascalparty @ao719 @leelee10898 @riseandshinelittleblossom @zaffrenotes @drakewalkerwhipped @stopforamoment @annekebbphotography @lizeboredom @boneandfur @mind-reader1 @jovialyouthmusic @ooo-barff-ooo @bobasheebaby @ownworldresident @hopefulmoonobject @sleepwalkingelite @likethetailofacomet @silviasutton1989 @blackcatkita @blackcoffee85 @kennaxval @andy-loves-corgis @callmetippytumbles @iplaydrake @the-everlasting-dream @brightpinkpeppercorn @agent-bossypants @tornbetween2loves @dcbbw @jlouise88 @choicesbyjade @breaumonts @thehonorarybeaumont @pixelsandkink @innerpostmentality @katedrakeohd @darley1101 @carabeth @sirbeepsalot Readers: @cocomaxley @mfackenthal @moneyfordiamonds @romanticatheart-posts @choicesarehard @gibbles82 broken bits tags: @zaffrenotes @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @brightpinkpeppercorn @jovialyouthmusic @mind-reader1 @endlessly-searching-for-you @notoriouscs @endlessflame @endlesstaylormckenzie @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @akrenich @nekkidmolerat @indiacater @the-everlasting-dream @thequeenofcronuts @the-whiskeywife @roonarific @stopforamoment @mkatschoicesblog @mfackenthal @drakewalkerisreal @jlouise88 @drakesensworld @gibbles82 @gardeningourmet @iplaydrake @speedyoperarascalparty @bobasheebaby @carabeth

#a picture is worth a thousand words #choices fandom game #rose of sharon #bastien x annabelle #bas x belle #young bastien #trr bastien #bastien x oc #the broken bits

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idasessions · 6 years

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Famous Muses & Groupies in Rock Music Pt. 20

MUSE: Stevie Nicks (full name Stephanie Lynn Nicks)

Stevie was born on May 26th, 1948, in Phoenix, AZ to Jess and Barbara Nicks, with a younger brother Chris born later on. Throughout Stevie’s childhood, the family resided in Phoenix, Albuquerque, NM; El Paso, TX; Salt Lake City, UT; and eventually both Los Angeles and San Francisco in California while Jess was a food industry executive. In her early teens, Stevie was educated at Arcadia High School, where she joined her first music act, the folk harmony group the Changing Times. When she was a Senior at Menlo-Atherton High School in late 1965, she met schoolmate and future boyfriend/bandmate Lindsey Buckingham. In 1967, Stevie joined Lindsey in the local psychedelic-rock band Fritz, where Stevie provided lead vocals and Lindsey played bass until the end of 1970. At the same time they were playing in Fritz, Lindsey and Stevie also attended college at San Jose State University until dropping out before their Senior year. Stevie also took ballet classes. From 1971-74, the musical and romantic partners formed the soft rock duo Buckingham Nicks, which included their self-titled LP in 1973. By this time, Lindsey had completely switched from bass to lead guitar. Though not a huge success, their shows and record caught the attention of Mick Fleetwood and landed them new spots in the ever evolving rock band Fleetwood Mac. Stevie and Lindsey’s involvement with FM would be the group’s must popular era from 1975 to 1987. In 1981, Stevie also began a successful solo career. Her signature songs include ‘Crying in the Night,’ ‘Garbo’ and ‘Sorcerer’ of Buckingham Nicks; ‘Dreams,’ ‘Rhiannon,’ ‘Sara,’ ‘Gold Dust Woman’ and ‘Gypsy’ of Fleetwood Mac; and ‘Edge of Seventeen,’ ‘Stand Back,’ ‘If Anyone Falls’ and ‘Talk to Me’ of her solo work.

Like most of her contemporaries in the 1970s, Stevie’s been with a looottttt of dudes. Her turbulent relationship with Lindsey is now obviously the most infamous. The two constantly argued and even once had a physical fight during their time with Mac, and also accused each other of cheating. When not venting about their problems in song, like Stevie’s ‘Dreams’ or Lindsey’s ‘Go Your Own Way,’ Lindsey turned into a pothead and Stevie developed a cocaine habit. Quickly after they separated personally, there were quite a few other famous music artists Stevie made an affect on. The first guy she was with right after Lindsey was Eagles drummer Don Henley. Some even say Don was THE reason the couple officially called it off in 1976. The lyrics to the hit Eagles single ‘Life in the Fast Lane’ are also rumored to be inspired by Lindsey & Stevie’s chaotic history. Stevie and Don would have an on-agan/off-again fling until about 1978, which sometimes included Don flying Stevie out in his private luxury jet to visit the Eagles on tour (wowza).

From 1977-79, Stevie also had a casual affair with her own band’s drummer Mick Fleetwood, which began a year before he and wife Jenny Boyd separated. The song ‘Sara’ from the 1979 FM album ‘Tusk’ is based on both of her exes, Don and Mick. In a 2014 interview with Billboard magazine, Stevie confirmed that the song was first influenced by an abortion she got in early 1978 after she found out she was pregnant with Don’s child. Supposedly when she first told Don the news, he was originally interested in being a parent. But then it suddenly became clear he was ambivalent over the idea, so she decided to abort. Stevie has said not having kids was a very hard decision she made, and went into depth on the subject in Rosanna Arquette’s documentary All We are Saying (2005). She also didn’t think she could properly be both a mother and superstar with the band’s hectic, drug-fueled lifestyle or celebrity atmosphere. The lyric “when you build your house…” is a reference to the fact Don was remodeling his home when she found out she was pregnant. The other half of ‘Sara’ is about Mick overlapping his flings with Stevie and her best friend…named Sara.

In the 1980s, Stevie’s beaus included music producer Jimmy Iovine, guitarist Waddy Wachtel, and new wave artist Dave Stewart. Plus another Eagles band member, Joe Walsh from 1983-86. Surprisingly, Joe is the famous ex who Stevie has named as the great love of her life. She even said she would’ve married him and compromised ‘a little’ to be with him. In 1984, Joe took Stevie to visit the grave of his 3-year-old daughter Emma who was tragically killed in a car accident. This moment inspired Stevie to write the song ‘Has Anyone Ever Written Anything for You?’ on her 1985 album ‘Rock a Little’ to Joe. Like most of her relationships up to this point, there was a lot of booze and coke going around the couple. Allegedly Joe was kind of a douche when he broke up with her, and just called Stevie from Australia while touring to tell her it was over and that was it. And if you thought that was where Stevie’s connection to the Eagles ended, then nope, lol. She also fooled around with one of the band’s songwriters, J.D. Souther sometime between 1977-78. Stevie famously had an amusing fangirly crush on friend and collaborator Tom Petty, who usually had to remind her there aren’t any female Heartbreakers. Similarly, musician friend Walter Egan was attracted to Stevie, but she friend-zoned him. Walter’s biggest single, ‘Magnet and Steel’ from 1978, is about his crush on her.

With the exception of a very brief three month marriage to Kim Anderson, the widower of her close friend Robin, Stevie never married. She did get clean of coke in 1986, but only to get hooked on Klonopin prescribed to her until 1993 before finally becoming sober. She’s been on sporadic good terms with Lindsey since the 1970s (to say the least, lmao); and is still friendly with Mick and Don. (The latter most apparent when they collaborated on the hit ballad ‘Leather and Lace’ from Stevie’s 1981 album ‘Bella Donna.’)

Fun fact: Lindsey’s daughter Leelee and Don’s daughter Sophie are friends with each other, l o l

#Stevie Nicks #muses #lindsey buckingham #don henley #joe walsh #mick fleetwood #crazy how similar her early life is to grace's #just replace phoenix with chicago #and coke with booze #stevie's kind of on the low end of my shit list currently #but i still ride hard for my faves #musesandgroupiesseries

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graysonpuzzle · 7 years

Text

Dreams

Note: this might be my favorite chapter so far. Its definitely happier than all the previous chapters.

THE PUZZLE

CHAPTER FIVE

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

January 16th, 2007

I took a few days off hunting to recover from being possessed and finding out the truth that my grandpa and even Bobby had been hiding from me. Apparently after initially getting taken over, the demon went to the Roadhouse and attacked Ellen and Jo. Soon after Bobby showed up it attacked him too. Then it continued to go to his house, where the three of them went after they called some guy names Ash to watch the Roadhouse. Then the three of them finally took it down -literally- and got the demon out of me.

Now I can't stop thinking about it. The possession, the new information and it's driving me crazy. I got a call from another hunter, Rachel, telling me she thinks there's a djinn a few cities away from where she's working on a poltergeist. I told her I'd take care of it, and that's where I'm driving to now.

I drive with the window down, letting the rainy air blow at my hair. Fleetwood Mac plays on the radio and keeps me calm as I near the Oregon town.

"Thunder only happens when it's raining, players only love you when they're playing!" I sing and tap on the steering wheel. I reach the town and as usual, find a decent motel to stay in for the rest of the job.

I check in and throw my bag on the bed. Rachel said that the djinn's last victim was a 19 year old girl named Taylor. She went missing a few days ago and was last seen walking a block away from an abandoned factory at night. Sounds just like the kind of place where a djinn would hang out.

Since it will be dark in about a half hour, I spend the time getting myself ready to go straight for it. I can just hope that I'm fast enough that the thing doesn't find me before I find him.

I get all of my silver knives out, a total of 4, and the lamb's blood. I dip each knife in the blood and let it dry on the metal. I put a knife in each strap on my thighs, one on my left arm and the last one to carry in my hand. I pour the lamb's blood out of the container it's in, and back into an old flask, so that if I need to I can pull it out quickly and pour some on a blade again.

I lock the motel room and make my way to the car, the sun just starting to go down. The engine of my new ride--a 1996 tahoe--roars to life and I make my way to the factory.

I walk in through a back door and ready myself--flashlight in one hand and knife in the other. The places looks like it closed at least 15 to 20 years ago. Perfect place for a djinn. I decide to go up and work my way down to search the place for the victims and the monster.

There are three levels and the very top looks like it's all clear. I try to move down the grate steps as quietly as possible, which is hard since they're so old and creaky. When I reach a landing in the steps I pause to listen for anything before continuing. There's nothing and I keep going down. The steps seem louder now than they were before; I stop again to listen. A similar noise stops right after I do.

I grip my knife tighter and lift my chin to listen harder. There's creaking coming from below.

I dim the flashlight and keep going.

"Hello." I get to the bottom of the metal steps and there's a guy standing there, leaning against the wall.

"Who are you?" I ask, keeping my distance.

"You took my line," He smiles, but I just scrunch my brows towards him, "I'm Adrian."

He walks over and reaches his hand out to mine, "Grayson," I say and shake his hand.

"So Grayson, I think were hunting the same Djinn," He says holding on to my hand a little too long. I realize this and pull away.

"Looks like it. You can leave, I've got this."

"Whoa, don't be ridiculous. I came here to kill this thing, and that's what I'm going to do, whether you want me to or not."

"I guess we'll just have to see about that since that's exactly what I was planning on doing," I say and raise my brows with a smirk.

"Fine, I don't mind working with beautiful women. Is upstairs clear?"

"Yes, and for the record, you should be grateful of working with me for my skills--which I'm sure you'll need--not my looks," I say.

"I'm thankful for both," He says playfully and winks. I don't know how to respond, so I just lift my flashlight and continue walking around.

He follows behind me, guarding my back. "So Grayson, how come I've never met you until now?"

I swiftly turn the corner, "Because I prefer to fly under the radar-- even the hunter radar."

"There's no way someone can be a hunter and not come across others," He counters.

"I'm not saying I've never met other hunters. I know a lot actually, I just work by myself most of the time...the way I like it." I turn to him as I say the last part, and he smiles, "What? Why are you so smiley?"

"The way you like it huh?"

"Yes."

"I bet I can change that."

"Based on how this is going, I'd be willing to bet all my money against that," I reply, and turn forward again. I kick open a thick door and lower my knife. The missing girls are strung up against the wall.

Adrian goes past me to free one of the girls while I free another. "You watch the door, I get them all down," He says and I pull out another knife, ready to throw.

"Where the hell is this thing?" I think out loud.

"Maybe out getting another girl," Adrian suggests.

"I'm going to look for him some more, I'll be back in a few." I say and leave the room.

I look at all the rooms and places we didn't check on the main level. All empty. I'm guessing that I'm across the building from where Adrian and the victims are, so I speed walk back. There's a high pitched scream and I break into a sprint. I burst through the now shut heavy door again, and find the djinn and Adrian face to face, with all the girls in a corner behind Adrian.

The djinn looks around to see me, and in an instant, let my knife fly. When it hits the target--his heart-- he stops and falls to his knees while pulling the knife out slowly.

"Where have you been all my life?" Adrian asks, while I stare at the dying djinn. I turn to him and give a light smile.

"Lets go," I say and help up one of the younger girls, who looks no older than 17.

Adrian and I drop the girls off at the hospital and leave them before getting asked questions. We walk back to our cars together in silence.

"Wanna go out?" He asks out of the blue.

"I'm not really in the mood," I reply, "But would you want to join me for some movies on a disgusting motel couch?"

"I would love that," He plays along.

He follows me to my motel and I turn on the TV.

The next morning he is passed out on the couch and I'm still in my clothes from yesterday. The TV is still on, and its showing the local news. Its about the girls we found, and I smile. The first time in a while that a hunt went that smooth. The news switches to something else, and there's a picture of a newly missing girl; she fits the same profile of the girls the djinn was taking. But how is that possible? I killed him myself.

I go to the couch and shake Adrian awake.

"What!? What is it?!" He says as he leaps out of his sleep.

I laugh at this and point to the TV, "Another girl is missing, and she is exactly the kind of girl the djinn was taking."

"What? I saw you kill it, that knife went straight to his heart-- nice aim by the way."

"Maybe there was more than one, I mean there were a lot of girls there. All the djinns I've hunted only had at most 3 victims at a time," I say, crossing my arms.

"And there were 7 back there. Almost double. You think were dealing with double trouble?"

"That's exactly what I think."

I take Adrian to his motel so he can change and get his truck and arsenal. Its windy outside and it blows at his hair as he goes through the arsenal in the trucks bed. It must've been too dark last night to notice that his hair is almost perfectly golden, and his skin almost matches, just a shade darker.

"If you can throw knives consistently, then I probably don't need these, " he says and shuts the bed.

"What do you mean 'if?'' I ask, slimming my eyes to stare at him, "Knife throwing is one of the things I'm best at. And I'm the best of the best at it."

"That's a little cocky don't ya think?" He asks, playfully.

"I wish I was joking, but no. Wanna know something ridiculous?"

"Of course," He says and we both get in my car.

"When I was about 16, my grandfather entered me in a knife throwing competition. I won, and long story short I moved on to the olympic level. We stopped after that because he didn't want to draw too much attention to us."

"Wow that uh-- that's intense. Your grandpa must've been really-"

"Crazy? He was, but he was a damn good hunter," I say.

"Any chance I've heard of him?" Adrian asks.

"His name was Daniel Elkins, I think a lot of people just called him Elkins though," I explain.

"Yeah! I've heard of him, That must've been why I thought your name was so familiar!"

"What why?"

"Almost every hunter has heard of old man Elkins, and everyone knew he had a granddaughter he raised--" He stops and looks at me sort of sadly, "I heard you had it pretty hard actually."

"Please don't look at me like that," I say, starting to get mad, "Don't feel bad for me, if he hadn't raised me that way, I wouldn't be who I am today."

"I know I just...heard stories my dad would talk about with his friends."

"What did you hear?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"That he made you go on hunts of stuff you were scared of as punishment, having to go through ridiculous set ups and things I can't imagine," He says, getting quieter until he stops.

"Yeah. But like I said, I wouldn't be who I am now if that never happened, and I might not have liked it, but I'm thankful in a way."

"You're amazing," He says and I'm taken aback, why would he say that? "I'm not trying to be creepy or anything...Just that you came out of all that the way you did. Its great."

"Thanks. We should get going," I say awkwardly and finally start the engine.

We decide to sit in the car and watch the factory for anything, sort of like cops on a stakeout or something. I play with my knife and Adrian keeps flashing his light on and off again.

"Maybe if you do that a few more times, the djinn will come to us," I say sarcastically.

"Sorry, its a habit."

"What kind of habit is that?"

"Its like clicking a pen, just something to do when there's nothing else," He explains.

"I'm starting to think that you're a little weird," I say

"And I'm starting to think that you are my soulmate."

"Alright, are you drunk?" I laugh, "Because if you are I don't want you on this hunt."

"Why do I have to be drunk to be attracted to you?" He asks seriously now.

"I guess you don't..." I trail off.

"Good, because based on our 23 hours together, you are the most beautiful, kick ass and funniest woman I've ever met," He says. I don't know how to respond. Literally at a loss for words. I know guys will say anything to get in your pants but I feel like he actually means it.

"Grayson?" He asks and I shake my head to bring myself back to reality.

"Yeah?"

"I think I like you."

"I think so too. I mean that I like you."

"Cool."

"Is that it?"

"What do you mean?"

"You just wanted to talk about it?"

"Well were kind of doing something important right now, don't you think?" he asks.

"Yeah, yeah you're right," I say and focus back onto watching the building.

An agonizingly awkward 20 minutes pass with no djinn activity.

"If there's no djinn within the next 5 seconds, I'm going to die of boredom," I say.

"Me too," Jack agrees, "I would make a suggestion but..."

"But what?"

"Nothing."

"Seriously? Are we in high school? Tell me," I demand.

"Well I mean if we're that bored--not that I have to be bored to want to--"

"Are you trying to have sex with me right now?" I ask, with a smile on my face.

"No. Not at all," he replies, holding back a grin.

"You know what--" I start saying, but then I see a light out of the corner of my eye. On one of the upper levels of the warehouse, someone turned on a light, "Look!"

I point towards the light and Adrian immediately sees it and opens his door to get out. We arm ourselves and head for the warehouse.

The whole place is dark, except for that light that we saw from outside. I lead the way through with Adrian guarding my back. We go up the stairs until we reach the level the lighted room is on. I look down the wide corridor and find the closed door that has light reaching out from underneath it. I nod at Adrian towards the door and he gets the message. He goes ahead of me and kicks the door open. He swiftly goes in and immediately is attacked by the other djinn.

The djinn must've used the light as bait to catch us, but I don't think he anticipated there to be two of us. I jump onto the djinns back to get it off of Adrian. I keep the djinn in a choke hold with both arms as hard as I can, while I keep my legs wrapped around his torso, waiting for Adrian to make his move. I position it's head so that Adrian can take his knife dipped in lamb's blood on drive it into the djinns head. I get off of it as its body drops limp beneath me.

"Damn. We make a good team," Adrian says, offering me a high five. I smack his five with mine as we stare down at the djinn to make sure he's really dead.

We walk side by side out of the hospital after officially finishing the job, both of us exhilarated after how successful both nights went.

"I swear, I think you are my soulmate," Adrian says as we get back in my car.

"I think you're just excited after what just happened," I laugh and put the key in the ignition.

"No," he says and puts his hand over mine as I hold the keys, "even if I wasn't stoked over how well we took out those djinns, I would still think that."

"Dude, I know you're just trying to get in my pants, I'm not really into the whole 'fuck it and chuck it' thing, not much of a one night stand kinda girl," I explain.

"I'm not into that either, but the way you--" he starts, but I stop him by pressing my lips to his. He is surprised at first but then goes with it.

I break away to catch my breath.

"I thought you weren't into this kind of thing?" he asks, confused, but still happy.

"I'm not, but maybe you could change my mind...or maybe it won't be one of those things," I explain and kiss him again.

My hands reach down to his waist, and I put my them under his shirt and run them up his torso. I feel slowly, taking in everything, from his hipbones to his collarbones. He grabs my forearms and stops me, I break off the kiss.

"Whats the matter?" I ask, breathing a little heavier than I was moments ago.

"Maybe we should go back to the motel?" he suggests and I agree, starting the car quickly and driving off.

I park the car and take the keys out and we both rush out of our seats and out into the cold night air. He takes my hand and guides me back to my motel room. He takes the keys from me and unlocks the door himself. He tosses the keys inside and turns to me. Before I can even react, he squats down and wraps his arms around my thighs, right under my butt and lifts me up as he stands again. I wrap my arms behind his neck and bend my head down to kiss him as he shuts the door with a swift kick.

Adrian carries me to the bed and tosses me onto it. I bite my lip watching him stand at the edge of the bed as he takes off his shirt. Within seconds, his body is hovering over mine, his elbows at either side of my head. I put my hands on his cheeks and draw him in for a kiss. He breaks away to start kissing my cheeks, my chin and down my neck.

"Care if I get rid of this?" he asks when he reaches the collar of my shirt.

"Go for it," I answer and lift my arms up. He gently slide the shirt over my head and for a moment won't stop looking at what's now exposed. He dives to my stomach and starts planting kisses there, while his hands hold my waist.

In this moment, I feel loved--or at least really liked. That's something I haven't felt in a long time. My life has been a series of fucked up events and very rarely do I have a moment like this--with a person like this--where I feel at peace and safe, oddly enough. I'm surprised myself, since I'm feeling this way as a stranger is kissing me.

"Grayson," Adrian says, his voice calling me back to the moment and out of my head. I snap out of it and realize he was saying my name out of desperation. I take control of the situation and within minutes, all of our clothes are on the floor and I'm looking down at him, his head resting on one of the pillows. I look into his eyes, he looks back, not breaking our intense eye contact.

I bite my lip and take a deep breath then kiss him. I kiss him with everything I have, because I don't have anything left. I want to feel something and that's exactly what he's giving me and we haven't done anything but kissed so far.

"I want you..." I breath into his ear after ending the kiss and trailing my lips across his cheek.

"Have me then," he replies.

The next morning, we go out to a local diner to get some breakfast. On the TV they are still covering the djinn story, or the abduction story since they have no idea about the djinns.

I crave a burger despite it being 10am, while Adrian gets some pancakes.

"So last night," he starts, "we did really good together."

"Are you talking about the djinns or...?"

"Well, I meant the djinns but everything about last night was great," he replies as he cuts his pancakes.

"Look, I'm going to be honest with you--"

"You don't want anything to come from this?" he guesses, and his facial expressions reveal that he'd be a little disappointed if it's true.

"No, the opposite actually," I say and he almost chokes on the piece of pancake he just put in his mouth.

"You're saying?"

"That I really like you. I've been through so much and I've never felt so...content as when I was with you. I want to, ugh, I don't know what I'm saying." Adrian grabs my hand from across the table and looks into my eyes.

"I feel the same way. I mean not exactly, but, I don't want this--whatever it is-- to be over," he explains. I feel something in my chest and my eyes get warm with water.

"So you want to..." I say, but can't think of how to finish the sentence.

"I know we just met, but I feel something here. And I know it sounds really, really cliche. But the hunting life has never been for me. How many hunter have you heard of getting together and actually being happy? I can't think of any."

"My parents," I blurt out without thinking.

"Oh, well cool. So can I take you out on a date sometime? I mean not now obviously, because we are hunters after all, but we can set out a day and--"

"Yes, I'd love that," I say a little more excitedly than intended, revealing how happy I am in the moment.

"Great, so you can pick the date and time and I'll take you somewhere."

"How about two weeks from now?"

"Alright. It's a date. January 31st, on a Wednesday." He says and smiles, "Should we set somewhere to go?"

"You can come to my house, I'll text you the address."

"Great," he says and we just smile at each other.

Hours later, I'm driving on the freeway back to Manning. I can still feel butterflies in my stomach and try to stop it because it makes me feel like an idiot, but then again I don't want to stop it because I like it so much. Maybe I can actually have someone in my life, someone to be there all the time. I have been so alone for so long, at this point I crave human interaction but find myself rejecting it at the same time. This time is different though, I won't let myself screw it up. If that demon Mindy has her way, I'm going to die soon, and I might as well die happy.

But then again, I'm not going to let her take anything away from me. I'm going to fight for this because I can see my life going somewhere. Romance is so weird in that way, giving me hope and motivation. But it's not just that, I am too damn stubborn to let some demon kill me.

Thanks for reading! I hope that if you read this that you liked it even if Sam and Dean weren’t in it:)

#spn #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn fluff #dean winchester #sam winchester #sam winchester imagine #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fic #sam winchester fic #castiel #ellen and jo #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural imagine #graysonpuzzle #chapter 5

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imagineclaireandjamie · 7 years

Text

We Live For Love

The studio reverberated with the final echoes of Jamie’s guitar, Ian’s drums, and Willie’s bass.

Then two seconds of utter silence. Followed by Claire Beauchamp’s enthusiastic claps and cheers from the corner.

Hopefully the fifth take would be the charm.

Not a lot had been under his control since the whirlwind day two months before when Murtagh had proudly introduced them all to Joe Abernathy – and they signed a four-record deal with Chrysalis right on the spot.

First, the suits insisted that the band didn’t need a name – it had a frontwoman in Claire. So all their work would be done under her name.

Jamie had bristled – but when Ian had elbowed him in the back, decided to keep his mouth shut.

Then there were the songs. They already had a great selection of covers, plus some songs that had been kicking around Chrysalis for a while. Some were actually quite good, once he’d reworked the tuning and experimented on different vocals with Claire.

She was just a natural. It was truly astonishing how so much power – and force – and kick-ass attitude could come from such a tiny person who was so polite and polished in real life, but utterly transformed into a take-charge force of nature when she performed.

He’d long ago given his heart to her. She inspired him more than anyone – or anything – ever had. He had never worked so hard in any of his gigs before – because he’d never truly *cared* about the entire end product. Claire gave him so much space to grow – to learn about producing, to lead the musical arrangements, to give her advice on how to open up her voice – and he had just flowered as a result.

But the only way he could express his feelings for her was in his words – in his songs. In the chord progressions he scribbled on scrap pieces of paper and stuffed into his jeans – in the snatches of poetry he rolled over and over again in his mind when he rode the subway uptown from his crummy apartment to the shiny Midtown recording studio – in the ridiculous hearts he drew in the steamed-up mirror after he got out of the shower.

She was in the process of finding herself – building her own identify as Claire Beauchamp. Not Claire Randall – married to a medical student, singing in cabarets in upstate New York to prevent herself from being lonely. Not Claire – belting out show tunes and Linda Ronstadt and Judy Garland at weddings and parties and bar mitzvahs.

For God’s sake, they were in a band together. Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks had almost blown up Fleetwood Mac when they broke up. They still had to tour together. No way would Jamie even think of jeopardizing Claire’s dream – what she had sacrificed so much for.

So he wrote – and composed – and waited.

**I feel a passion growing // I know that love is only just one inch away from striking us**

And seethed – because the label wouldn’t even consider letting them record any of his originals.

To be sure – he had more than songs about Claire. Jamie had been writing since he joined his first band at sixteen. He wasn’t prolific, but he had a good catalogue of rollicking guitar-driven songs that would be absolutely magic with Claire’s voice.

He’d plead with the producer who had been assigned to their sessions – Rob MacNab – to at least let them record a demo. But MacNab was under strict orders from his superiors: to cut the record quickly, and cheaply, and with guaranteed hit songs by recognized songwriters.

Jamie Fraser may be a talented guitarist and arranger – but he certainly wasn’t recognized.

“How’d we do, Rob?”

Jamie blinked awake, turned briefly to enjoy Claire’s triumphant smile, and then squinted through the glass wall to the control room where Rob sat behind the massive console, chain-smoking.

“I think we got it, guys. Good work.”

The one compromise that Jamie and Rob had worked out was to record all the tracks live. No use in recording all the instruments separately and then futzing around with overdubs – not when it was the raw, live sound that Jamie knew would immediately appeal to people. And to his surprise, MacNab had agreed – plus, it would help cut down the production costs.

Nine tracks out of ten were now complete. Just one more, and their first record would officially be done.

Ian stood from behind his drum kit and stretched. Willie rolled his shoulders and hung up his bass on the stand he shared with Jamie.

Jamie set down his guitar and walked immediately over to Claire, who sipped Coke from a warm bottle.

“How you feeling? How’s your voice?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Jamie. Really. It’s hard work, but it’s so worth it.”

God, that smile cut him straight to his heart.

“Think we can call it a day? I gotta get up and walk around.”

Jamie looked over at MacNab – laughing with one of the engineers behind the glass.

“Hey Rob – let’s just pick this up tomorrow?”

Rob scratched his balding head and nodded. “Yeah, sure. Come out and we can listen to the tape, if you want. Then we can call it a wrap.”

Ian and Willie slipped out of the studio to huddle behind Rob at the control board, watching him raise and lower just a few of the hundreds of dials.

“What are you thinking?”

Jamie turned back to Claire, still perched on one of her favorite stools. He’d gotten her to stop using them as a crutch – encouraging her to walk around while she sang – but she always retreated back to them when she was tired, or when something was bothering her.

Today she was dressed in a black sweater and jeans, her hair curling madly around her face. No makeup, as usual. Breathtaking.

He spoke the words without thinking.

“I want to show you something I’ve been writing. And I don’t care what Rob or Joe or Murtagh say – I want us to record it. I want *you* to sing it.”

Surely she had to feel this too – this pull between them. She had never made a move – and neither had he – despite all the nights they’d spent at her social club or at his hard rock bars, throwing back drinks and spilling their pasts to each other.

She wanted a partner – and he didn’t know he needed one. But that’s what they were – musical partners. Partners on this wild and crazy journey that would hopefully one day lead to some kind of stardom.

Claire looked at him for what felt like a long time, then tilted her head. Considering.

“Want to come over to my place? It’s more private – you can play your guitar, I mean.”

Oh God, she was blushing.

“I’d love that, Claire. Thank you.”

She shook her head. “No, Jamie. Thank *you*. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“That’s not true, and you know it – ”

“Bullshit. It’s not, OK? If I hadn’t met you, I’d still be singing show tunes at The Broch. This is infinitely better.”

“Come on, you two! Let’s listen!” Rob’s voice thundered through the glass.

Impulsively, Jamie extended a hand to help Claire off her stool. Her surprised smile – and the look of sheer joy on her face – was everything.

#;mod gotham #we live for love au

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