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sushirrrry · 4 months

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would love to see a blurb about best friend harry thinking yn’s boyfriend doesn’t deserve her and accidentally confesses his feelings for her

bound a harry styles one-shot blurb; 7.2k words cw: fluff fluff and more fluff

When Harry had booked this trip, there were three things that he was looking forward to.

One of them was the open bar that their friends—the new Mr. and Mrs. Moxley—would be providing to them, which would include a couple gin and tonics too many.

The second was the beachfront room that he had scored from the credit card points he had expertly racked up the past few months, especially for this trip to Barcelona for his friend’s wedding. He thought he had scored a pretty good deal.

The third was seeing Cassidy for a weekend straight.

While the two of them lived in the same city, they were walking different paths at the moment, which had never been them. There were nights that they met for dinner, almost like nothing had changed. But Harry lived in South London; he had been working long nights in the museum, Cassidy was on the opposite side of the city working at her accounting position she had taken recently.

Both hadn’t had each other’s undivided attention in quite some time, and Harry was looking forward to the possibility of having that again. The kind of attention, the kind of laughs and indescribable joy that they had both needed—he was sure of it.

If there was one thing that he knew about Cass, it was that she was sprinting on the plane to get the vacation she had been looking forward to.

Plus, neither of them had a plus-one this time around.

That meant that it was just the two of them, and Harry couldn’t help but smirk every time he thought of it. Undivided attention.

Harry had thrown on a linen suit for the welcome party; the night before the wedding. He had started to unpack his room, trying to pass the time before he knew that Cass would arrive. Once he heard a buzzing on his phone, his head lifted from looking down into his suitcase and towards the device on the duvet.

If there was one thing Harry was going to do on his vacation, it was unpack the entirety of his suitcase before doing anything else.

iddy: smyf

The small acronym ‘show me your fit’ made him smile before he noticed a few more texts rolling in, the dots precursing them on the phone.

iddy: for tonight, not right now. I should have clarified. Please don’t send a pic of your penis

iddy: someone has to make sure I’m not overdressed. How do you dress for a pre-wedding dinner

The panic over the texts was exactly how Harry knew Cassidy; she worried over small things but overlooked the bigger picture. It was a small, miniscule flaw, really.

But before he’s able to even move towards the large mirror in his bathroom, his phone vibrates again. His attention is grabbed by the way that his eyes move over the image that comes in, rather than the words he had been reading from her.

And something about it made him stop in his tracks on his own way to show her what he had looked like.

Something about the way that she held the phone up to the mirror, giving a small pout—a playful one, as if unsure of herself. The way that the wisps of her hair were around her face, but the rest was pulled back by a clip—he was certain of it. She didn’t like having her hair down if she could help it.

Harry swallowed in the comfort of the room, almost like he was trying to keep himself from getting caught in the moment, even when no one was around. His eyes flew over the soft baby blue of the dress, the way that it dipped down, just a bit.

The way that the color danced over her tanned skin; maybe even a bit red from the sun he was certain that she had taken apart in as soon as they hopped off the plane. Harry knew that she bathed in the sun whenever it came out in London; she wouldn’t have gotten burned there, though.

There were dainty cream flower details—maybe stitching, even—on the dress as he zoomed in to get a better look at it.

His thumb cruised over the message, writing out a message before he pressed send.

Harry: good thing you told me not to send you a pic of my penis! Was about to!

Harry: also, you look beautiful, c

He frowned when she sent another message.

iddy: ok but am I overdressed

Harry: no, see

Harry held his phone up to the mirror as she had done to him—as they had done for one another many times before. But something about the way he looked in it bothered him for a moment. He fixed his hair, running his hand through it, almost to make sure that it looked much better than usual. He adjusted the cuffs of his suit before he sent the picture through to her.

The cream suit was opened, a white shirt settled underneath it. He wore a pair of his favorite white sneakers that fit like a glove, even a bit scuffed—but he felt that that balanced the outfit.

When he sent the photo, he waited a moment for Cass to send something back. But it felt like the longer he stared, the more pressure he felt to not see the grey dots coming back on the screen.

He bit the inside of his lip, waiting patiently before he locked the phone and slid it down into his pocket.

Instead of worrying about that, Harry checked his watch to see that it was closing in on six-thirty– which meant that he was fashionably late to the six o’clock time for the dinner.

He spritzed a bit more cologne, checked his teeth in the mirror, and pushed the bunches of curls off of his forehead that he meant to get cleaned up before coming on this trip but simply losing track of time.

He grabbed his wallet– hoping to not lose it or need it– and walked out of the hotel room door, down towards the lobby where he figured everyone would be gathering. He figured he'd take the long way, walking through some groups of people until he saw a grand staircase to lead down into the lobby area.

Harry figured that he would walk that way, down towards the main area where some familiar faces had collected for cocktail hour and drinks. His eyes maneuvered around, trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of Cass in any capacity.

Walking down the stairs, he saw Mari and Logan– the bride and groom– and greeted both of them accordingly. Mari and Harry had worked together back at uni, so they had become close friends. There may have been a night or two when Harry and Mari actually went home together, but they chalked that up to some consensual stress release.

When she started dating Logan, they started to hang around everyone more– which then included Cassidy. They would all go out together to the pubs after classes and had become really great friends since then. It was no surprise that this kind of event would bring them all together again.

“Have you guys seen Cass yet?” Harry asked, looking around. “I haven't seen here since she got here. She texted me but didn't get a response.”

Mari looked at him a bit suspiciously before turning to Logan for a moment. “Didn't you guys RSVP together?”

Harry looked up at her for a moment, shaking his head.

“No– I mean, no, I didn't respond with her name or anything. Did she do that for me?” He had thought that he marked one salmon meal and that was it.

Mari bit her lip as she blinked at him a few times. “No, but she RSPV’d a plus one, I think. Or she said something a few months ago– it's a bit fuzzy, but she told me she was coming with someone else. I– I mean, I was certain it would be you.”

Harry’s smile faltered just a bit before he shook his head, the hands in his pockets had turned to fists as he turned to look around him. Wondering if he'd lay eyes on her or watch her holding hands with another guy.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen that before, but the excitement of seeing her for the first time in a while was slowly dwindling before he turned his head for what felt like the millionth time looking for her.

But this time, his vision landed on her. The rosy colored glasses that he saw her threw was starting to dim as the picture got a bit blurry.

The baby blue dress that fell just below her knees, the dip in the front. The silky material hung on her body, but his eyes stood on the hand that hand firmly on her waist as if to keep her tucked into him.

His greatest fears becoming reality as he looked up the girl giggling at a probable reasonable remark.

Cassidy took a break from her schoolgirl giggling to see Mari and Logan standing there, looking at her and the person practically wrapped around her. But when looked up to see that Harry had also been standing right there, a sudden course of fear trembled through her.

Fear was a strong word; worry was more like it.

She had known how Harry was, which is why she kept this a secret from him. Now, he was forced to get to know her boyfriend of three months because they were here on their own accord for a weekend. They would spend it together, having each other in their lives for a weekend. That's what he had requested, and what she could agree to.

He had promised her that– even if he hadn't realized that had included this moment right here, yet.

“Hi, guys!” Cass put on her smile, a gorgeous one that pushed the dimples on her chin forward. “Mari, you look so beautiful!”

The girls wove into a hug, Harry standing and staring at the man who had let Cassidy go– looking a bit as if he was uncomfortable at letting someone else touch her. His eyes stayed on them as Cassidy pulled back and moved onto Logan, congratulating them on the whole marriage thing.

It was like she was taking a moment before she would get to him. She looked at Mari’s ring, gushing about how beautiful it was and she beautiful she looked.

Her eyes reached Harry’s then, a sheepish smile on her face before she pushed her arms out to wrap her arms around him, one over his shoulder and the other around his ribs.

“It's so good to see you.” She commented; he wanted to say something back but the comfort of her made his face retreat into the slot of her shoulder and neck.

When they pulled away, he got a real look at her and gave her the smile she had been waiting to see.

“So glad you're here.” He told her before feeling like a blush had intermittently taken its place in his cheeks.

Their connection had faded a moment before she paused; she took a breath and stepped back before remembering the man who stood behind them.

“Guys, this is–“ She looked up at him, “This is Dalton. We've been seeing each other for a few months, and just thought it would be so good to introduce him here since we're all here.”

Harry had to try to remember to release the fists in his pocket before he would go to shake his hand.

“Dalton, this is Mari and Logan– the bride and groom,” She introduced, letting him shake their hands and give their respective hello’s, followed by congratulations and thanks. But then she turned to Harry, Dalton’s composure changing a moment before he watched Harry’s change too.

Cassidy felt small between them as she stares at the way they faced one another.

��Uh, Dalton, this is my friend, Harry. Harry, this is Dalton.”

Harry lets one of the sides of his face turn up in a smile before he reaches out to be the better person. “Best friend, actually. Nice to meet you.”

Cassidy looks at Harry, almost giving him a really?

The grip of the man’s hands together feels tense as Dalton gives him a courtesy, “Nice to meet you, too.”

As Cassidy watches the interaction, she notices that the way that Harry stands is taller and fuller—like he’s trying to prove to Dalton that he’s bigger, he’s better—that he could end him in a moment’s notice, if need be. She holds onto Dalton’s arm, practically pulling the man from his trance with trying to overthrow Harry’s dominance.

“Let’s get a drink, shall we?” She offers, giving Harry another grin before Cassidy and Dalton makes their way over to the bar area.

Harry watches tentatively before he notices that Logan and Mari are also a bit in shock by the interaction and the couth that Cassidy had to bring someone into this sacred space, once again. Harry knew how Cassidy felt most days about herself—she looked for the satisfaction of a partner, the confidence boost that having someone on her arm could bring her.

It was reassuring to Harry to think that she could go into a room by herself; owning the space and knowing who she was. That was what he was hoping for in this interaction, but instead, she had to enter with someone else.

And with that, came the idea that the men that Cassidy picked always had a knack for making her the jealous type. Harry could always tell that her reactions became much more aggressive, her body language becoming possessive.

Cassidy wanted to feel like she was the most special girl in the world, and somehow, Harry was always left picking up the pieces of her tortured, stomped on heart after the last guy had decided that she wasn’t good enough. What the men in Cass’ life failed to see, was that her heart was always borrowed, on loan. It was never theirs to keep, because they never nurtured it or regarded it in any sense.

Her kindness had been taken from granted, her will to give was always overused and spent.

Harry knew that his love for Cassidy ran deeper than the deepest oceans, and wider than the largest forests, but something inside of him knew that they were better off as friends. Maybe it was because she was smart, and he figured she would have figured it out by now; the way he looked at her overruled the way he would ogle art painted on canvas, or sculptures tall and mighty.

He was always there with a rose and a smile, standing outside her door after the last guy packed his belongings and left for good.

It was why watching her happy, standing by the bar without a care in the world broke his heart into a million pieces. He knew that he was always there to rescue her, and he could see by the way that the guy stood away from her—maybe even trying to get a glimpse of the other women around him. But Cassidy’s naivety kept her eyes locked on the man instead, her irises shaped like hearts.

Mari and Logan had started a new conversation with another few people, Harry stood with his hands in his pockets as he tried to figure out a course of action. He had figured that the night would be wasted away—quite literally and figuratively—with Cassidy by his side, but now he felt more alone than he had before.

A man with champagne on a tray walked by, and Harry grabbed two flutes. One for each hand. He downed one quickly before he made his way back to the bar where the two of them had been standing before setting one of the glasses down and keeping the other before he noticed that Cassidy had grabbed a glass of red wine—Cab Sav, most likely.

The man—Dalton—held a short, rocks-glass that just had something clear in it, possibly straight vodka, if he was brave.

“So, you really didn’t bring anyone? Haven’t met anyone yet? You’ve usually grabbed a few asses by now,” Cassidy spoke out, moving around Dalton to get closer to Harry. He turned his attention back to her, shaking his head a few times.

“No—I mean, I thought we were just going to hang out. I didn’t know you were bringing someone.” Harry’s eyes flicked up towards Dalton’s before he watched Cassidy bite her lip. The red on her lips had either been from the stain of the wine or the way she bit on her lip; either way, Harry found it to be enticing enough to stare for a beat too long.

“I—I don’t know, I just assumed you would have brought someone with you. Weren’t you seeing someone?”

Harry took a sip from the flute, shrugging casually, “Yeah. But not like, exclusively.”

Cassidy nodded a few times, raising her brows, “Is it ever exclusive with you?”

There was a teasing tone in her voice, but the way that her eyes lifted to investigate his own only made his stomach drop at the intention. Harry felt an incredible sting through his chest as he cleared his throat, almost to wash away the sensitivity that he felt around his heart.

He went to speak, but his lips didn’t seem to let any words leave. Instead, the bartender interrupted as Harry realized that there may have been a small line forming behind them.

Harry, Cassidy, and Dalton moved to the side a bit—all three having their drinks in their hands before they found themselves in a circle of silence. Each taking sips of their drinks before Dalton seemed to make a move of conversation towards Harry, nodding at him.

“So, what do you do for a living, Harry?” He licked over his lips, a tight smile painted on his face before Harry could respond.

“I’m—uh, I’m an art curator. At a small art gallery in London.”

Cassidy chimed in, “Harry has great taste, actually. He’s put together some really great art expos and exhibits.”

“Hm,” Dalton hummed, “Where is the gallery? My parents host charity galas, and we are on the board at the National Gallery and the Portrait Gallery.” He chuckles a bit, “I assume you’re not curating there.”

Harry feels the way that his jaw tightens, almost an innate reaction to the way that the man puts him down. Harry pushes his shoulders back before lifting his head. Cassidy looks to Dalton, speaking on Harry’s behalf.

“N-No, it’s—” But she’s interrupted when Harry speaks, then.

“It’s neither of those, no. It’s a bit more modern, helping to lift unknown artists who are looking to make their way into the conversation, which I think it’s very important. Especially now, our worldview is so mirrored by adding such high value to art that never needed it to begin with—art shouldn’t have value like that, in my opinion.” He felt that his tongue had a bit of venom on it when he took a larger sip of the champagne, practically downing that one, as well.

Dalton nodded. “I see. Well, I assume that amateur art wouldn’t have a value like Michelangelo or Vermeer, would they? But I think it’s presumptuous to say that art doesn’t have value. Everything has a price.”

Cassidy took in a breath before she took a large sip of wine; her eyes went to Harry who almost seemed like he would explode at any moment.

“Most things don’t have a price. Nothing has a price, it’s all relative. We, as a society, added price so people of higher status could act like they were better than other people, when it was all a façade to just make them look a bit fancier with their pretty goldleaf vases and Vermeer’s. A Vermeer painting doesn’t hold value to me, anyways.”

Dalton nodded a few times, giving a mock toast to the man in front of him, before he looked down at Cassidy.

“Yeah, that’s quite obvious. Class isn’t a given, it’s inherited. You should see the types of people that try to get their hands on these gala tickets, as if it’s some sort of carnival they can just attend. Half of them don’t have two quid to rub together, and it’s just embarrassing at that point.”

Harry took a step forward before Cassidy realized that his expression meant one of anger. Her arm pushed him back a bit before Dalton recognized the move and his eyes held a gentle smirk of cockiness.

It sat in Cassidy’s throat as she felt the deflation of her confidence. The weekend she had been looking forward to being was diminished quick before her eyes, and all she could do was count on the glass of wine that hadn’t even really been filled halfway.

“What he means is, being exclusive is an honor, and you of all people should know that, I’m sure.” Her eyes drive up to him, and Harry looks at her with that same feeling of hurt that he had felt moments ago by the bar. Harry’s lips parted as he looked at her and felt the subtle sting of her accusation.

Whether or not she meant it as a jab, he wasn’t quite sure, but that didn’t make it hurt less.

“Excuse me, Cassidy,” Dalton chuckles with a hint of a mocking tone, “I can speak for myself, darling. No need to interrupt.”

In just that moment, Harry felt himself push against Cassidy’s arm that had been subtly holding him back with no force other than the small barrier of her shoulder. The small push sent Cassidy off balance, which in turn allowed the slosh of wine to knock around her glass.

“And who are you to talk to her like that?” Harry questioned; his eyes now centered on Dalton as his brow knit together. “Fuck off with that, will you?”

“Bloody hell,” Cassidy gasped out, her eyes dropping to the small amount of wine that covered the hardwood floor underneath them—small droplets of the red wine were coating the bottom of her dress; only enough for her to notice, really, but her eyes narrowed at the floor.

Harry and Dalton both turned to her then, Harry’s eyes dropping to the way that she held her dress up to get a bit of a better glimpse of the stain.

“Oh, fuck, Cass. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to do that. Hey, I’ll clean it up—” Harry moves towards her, his hand holding at her bicep to help keep her balance.

“Good work, mate.” Dalton eyed Harry, who felt the need to clench his fists again. He did so rather quickly, trying to get the feeling of anger to subside for the moment so that he could focus on Cassidy in the moment.

“It’s fine—really, I just want to make sure it doesn’t stain. I—let me go back to my room, I think I have a stain stick.” She lifts her head to look at before she starts to move out of the small space.

“Let me help,” Harry offers, starting to follow behind her. It feels like an opportunity to take—the two of them alone for just a moment so that he can gauge how she’s really feeling about Dalton and this whole situation. The first few minutes of him have Harry already written off, and he knows the type of person she needs to be with should never be one to talk over her.

“No—Harry, it’s okay, I’ve got it.” She says quickly before she feels Dalton’s hand on her, as if to help guide her.

“I can help, darling.” He tells her, “Don’t worry about it. We can buy you a new one, if it’s too bad.”

Harry rolls his eyes and practically gags at the way he speaks to her. As if Cassidy couldn’t buy her own, for herself. He watches as he feels that Cassidy may be a bit overwhelmed by the two of them staring at her, knowing that they’re both fighting for her attention and affection.

The look on her face suggests as such before she look at Harry and blinks a few times, noticing that he had started to back off a bit. Not that he really wanted to, but knowing her, she didn’t want all the attention on her at once.

Harry downed the rest of the champagne, leaving the flute on a small table before Cassidy knit her brows and shook her head. “Actually, Harry— can you help? Your mum’s stain trick always seems to work. I can’t remember, though.”

His eyes float to Dalton who seems a bit taken aback by her push to have Harry go up to her room with her instead.

Harry nods a few times, watching as Dalton goes to speak, but Cassidy reassures him. “I’ll be right back, okay? We won’t be long.” She hands the man her wine glass, only a quarter full now, as most of it had landed on the sandy wood floors.

It’s then that the two of them take off towards the elevator. Cassidy has a bit of a stomp in her step, almost like she’s making sure that her and Harry aren’t in direct line so he can’t speak to her. The fits of anger that bubble in her chest is unexplained as she goes to press the elevator button to go upwards. Her arms crossed over her chest as she stares at the way that the light changes to go upwards.

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me.” Cassidy speaks out, a bit quietly as if to just think her thoughts—not say them outwardly.

“C’mon, Cass, he's got the ego of a narcissist and the smile of a Kennedy, you really think a guy like this could be the love of your life? Honestly.” Harry hounded her as they entered the elevator. He reached for the button, but Cassidy was already there, pressing three.

“That's not fair, Harry, you don't know him.” She settled against the wall as she stared at the ceiling, feeling the movement before she held onto the railing behind her. “He’s extremely smart, he’s confident—he knows what he wants. Which I think you and him may not agree on.”

Harry stayed quiet for a moment before he looked back at her, knowing she wouldn’t look at him—but knowing that he had to say the words to her.

“But I know you.”

Cassidy shakes her head as if she’d heard that from him before. Something about the mixture of the two men felt familiar with many of the guys she had brought home, or brought to meet Harry, really. She couldn’t figure out if he just couldn’t understand that she was dating this guy—not just sleeping with him. They were forming a connection, but maybe Harry didn’t understand that.

Harry didn’t understand the concept of falling in love was possible, probably because she had never seen that happening. She had never seen Harry madly in love with someone; never seen his heart broken before. She didn’t know if that was a red flag or if that was a person choice that he didn’t allow for himself.

Either way, she wasn’t going to let him ruin her chances at finding it—no matter what his personal opinions were.

“So, why are you putting me through this? C’mon, no one is ever good enough for you. I never said I was going to marry the guy!”

The shuffle of them towards the door to the hotel room increases as Cassidy throws the key against the electronic pad to open the door. Harry follows in quickly behind as she throws her shoes off. Harry makes sure to avoid tripping and falling over them but knows diligently that she takes her shoes off every time she walks through her door—without fail.

He knew that.

“But why waste your time if you won't spend your life with him?” Harry questions, turning on the light in the foyer of the small room that Cassidy and Dalton were sharing. Harry’s eyes tried not to wander as he saw the unfamiliarity of the dark navy suitcase on the floor next to the TV.

“I didn’t say that I wouldn’t,” Cass answers a bit with a huff as she rustles through her own suitcase to try to find the detergent stick, she had forgotten to throw in her bag, “All I said was I wasn't sure if I would, maybe I will! Also, I can throw that question right back at you, Mr. One-and-Done.”

Harry stands with his hands in his pockets as he knits his brows together at her answer.

“I just don’t think he’s the one, Cass. That’s all I said. You don’t have to insult me, too.”

“No, Harry, that’s not all you said,” She retorts, “You rolled your eyes, you were a bit disrespectful, you—you started like,” She scrunches her nose when she comes back with the detergent stick in his hand as she sits on the edge of the bed. “You were like puffing your chest at him or something—like you were trying to prove a point. Just because he doesn’t share the same opinion as you, doesn’t mean he’s wrong, you know?”

Harry pursed his lips as she had walked by him, feeling that her entrance into the room gave him permission to follow. He didn’t want to pry into her life if he wasn’t invited to.

“I was not puffing my chest at him, that’s ridiculous.”

He took a seat next to her on the bed as she pulled the long dress up just to her knee to try and rub the stain stick over the red wine stain before she dropped the fabric in her lap.

“Yes, you were,” She tells him, “You do that whenever a guy gets too close, like you’re trying to scare them off or something, and it’s bullshit because you don’t even give them a chance.”

“Why would I give them a chance when I can obviously tell that they’re not good for you?”

Cassidy dropped the dress fabric in her lap as she sighed a bit louder, very obviously done with the back and forth where no one would win. Her head turned towards Harry, sitting next to her now. The way that her throat tightened when their eyes met almost immediately threatened her composure.

“You never give them a chance, Harry,” She tells him with honesty in her tone; wanting him to listen to her like he had never listened before. She knew that he was hard-headed, stubborn to say the least. But she knew that when he really knew she was serious, he would back down. “I just want to make this work, okay? He’s a good guy—I promise, he is. And he would make my life comfortable. He’s looking for a wife, a family. He’s looking to settle down. We’re thirty, Harry—I want to have these commitments, even if you don’t.”

“I don’t doubt he’s a good guy, Cass—really, I—” He stops himself as he thinks of all the people he’s made promise’s too over the years, over various occasions, and conversations that he would think back to whenever he caught a glimpse of the green eyes that laid on his now.

Her mum, Barbara. Her younger brother, Antonio. Her best girlfriend from uni, Annabelle.

But her dad, Tony, was the most important for him to honor—considering he knew that he left the planet wanting Cassidy to be in the best hands; he had gotten confirmation from Harry in their last conversation that he would never let someone hurt her. And was loved, there was a guarantee that she would be loved and cherished until the end of time.

There were people in her life that had always looked at Harry as a guide, whether they meant anything by it, but they knew that Harry knew Cassidy better than anyone in the entire world. He had known every detail of her life for the twenty-some years that they had been the best of friends.

But it had always just been there– the best of friends. Saying anything different could change the whole dynamic of what that was.

“What is it? Why do you always do this to me?”

“Why do I always do this to you?” Harry questioned, setting Cassidy back a bit. She stared at him before she felt the way that their connection seemed to have a sense of distance between them. “Cassy, I thought we were going to have a weekend just the two of us. Just like we had been talking about—you know? We haven’t seen each other in so long, we haven’t spent any time together recently. You’re right—we’re thirty now. Life is going to change, but I wanted to have at least one more time where it would just be the two of us to spend laughing and making fun of people like Walton.”

Cassidy fought so hard to not smile at the name Harry gave her date, “Fuck off, you know it’s Dalton.”

“Cass, it doesn’t matter what his name is.” Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes, “What matters is that you always do this to me. You always insert this jackass as if to push him in my face and practically tease me with it. And what’s with all the jokes about me being exclusive?”

Cassidy feels her shoulders deflate, her eyes batting a few times before she shakes her head. “I just want you to find the right person, too, and maybe that would make you back from me and my choices just a bit. You think that I would treat a girl you dated like that? You think I would sit there and puff out my chest and try to make my boobs look bigger to make you look at me instead of her?”

Harry shrugs. “If you were jealous enough, I’d hope you would.” He goes to say something else but quickly shakes his head as if to not speak too much.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cassidy tells him, her eyes giving a small up and down motion as she realizes how much space was between them now.

Harry stands up, his hands moving through his hair in a frustrated motion before he goes to stand in front of her at the end of the bed. “Don’t you get it? Don’t you see it? Just because I’m the one with the artistic eye doesn’t mean that I’m the only one who can see art, Cass. You know when we go to the galleries in new cities we travel to, and I really make you look at them? You glance at them and are like, ‘that’s a nice one’ or ‘that’s pretty’. No, I really want you to look at it—and then sometimes it makes you emotional because you can really see the way that the artist has manipulated his wrists to make the kinds of strokes that the brushwork is, or the way that the divot in the sculpture is supposed to look like it’s a flaw, but it’s intentional? And that what you didn’t see before, because you were just glancing, is really there all the time?”

Cassidy looked at Harry who was standing in front of her, his eyebrows knit and his face practically begging for her to see him. He’s begging her to recognize this game that he had been playing wasn’t a game at all, it was just a matter of time. It was a matter of wanting her to see what they could be so that he didn’t have to spell it out.

He didn’t want to push her, but he wanted her to see it for herself. First and foremost, he wanted her to want it as much as he had.

“All I’m seeing is that you’re painting me out to be the bad guy here. All you do cycle through girls like a manic—you’re sleeping with one, you’re stringing one along. You think that’s supposed to entice me?” She asks quaintly, a bit quietly as she shakes her head, looking at Harry who seems to be on the verge of a mental breakdown.

He shuts his eyes, shaking his head as he takes in a deep breath to try and get to a level of calmness that fits his demeaner.

“No, Cass! I just wanted you to see how in love with you I am!” The words that leave his mouth are practically begging, but they leave a sour silence in the room as Cassidy is taken by the tone Harry’s voice; his hands resting on his hips as he finishes the pacing he had been doing.

“Cassidy,” Harry swallowed down the lump that had been sitting in his throat, his voice practically faltering as he shook his head, trying so badly to get through to the words he had been looking for. “I’ve been in love with you my entire life. They were never there to stay, okay? That’s why I didn’t look for exclusivity— it was never theirs. I was saving every ounce of my love and my time and my affection for you, and you never reached out to take any of it.”

Her silence hits her for a moment as she sits with her wine-stained dress in her lap on the white, linen sheets before she watches the man in front of her professing all the love and needs to her. She doesn’t feel like she can speak, but her eyes drift down to her lap as she feels all the sudden unable to find the words at all.

“Look—I’m sorry, I—I just can’t see you being with someone like this. And it physically hurts me to see you heartbroken when I know,” Harry pulls his lips into his mouth as he puts his hands on his hips, “I know that guy is going to fucking annihilate you. You’re going to fall in love with him, and he’s going to take it all and run with it. And there I’ll be, standing there, waiting for you to realize what’s been waiting for you this entire time. It’s just bound to happen.”

Cassidy sits with her hands in her lap, chewing on her lip as she feels the threatening of tears to spill from her eyes. She doesn’t understand the overwhelming feeling of the man’s words as she shakes her head, a sad chuckle leaving her throat as she looks up at him.

“He ordered me a pinot noir tonight,” She nods, “Told me that it was the best wine he’d ever had before.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he doesn’t know that you exclusively drink Cab Sav from a box, no matter what, unless you’re celebrating something big, then it’s a discounted bottle of Dom Perignon from that Lombardi’s store down from your flat,” Harry tells her with a scoff, almost like it had been a test to prove that he knew her better than anyone in the world did.

And Cassidy knew that he did, but the validation that he showed only made her tear fall with the knowledge that he didn’t just listen—he remembered, he supplied this vision of her and this want for her that didn’t come with rules or expectations.

Harry just saw her.

And in a world where you want to be seen, Cassidy just fought to be glanced at. She fought for the spot in someone’s eye, but when she thought that Harry only had eyes for art, she couldn’t have imagined what he had seen in her this entire time.

“Yeah,” Cass nodded, “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

Harry shook his head, looking at the ground as he started to feeling heaps of embarrassment but knowing that the awkward silence in the room was there to stay for a few more minutes at least. “I’d never order you a fucking pinot noir.”

Cassidy nods a few more times before she looks at the stains on the dress, knowing that it’s stained for good. That the stain stick won’t work anymore but knowing that it’s sometimes okay to have something marked, in the case that you wanted it to stick around forever.

Her heart felt like it had been borrowed and bruised but watching as Harry stared down at her only made it flutter as if trying to come back from the dead.

There were three things that Cassidy had been looking forward to this week—when she had originally booked the trip, that is.

One of them was to have a large glass of Cab Sav and sit on the balcony with Harry and laugh at the way that the people were pummeled by the waves; they always got too brave and then would be smashed down by the force of the water.

The second was to be able to dance. The dancing at the weddings always made her feel like she had been letting go of every ounce of worry and detrimental work email that she had received since the last time she was dancing at a wedding. It usually felt like a cleanse.

The third was to watch people fall in love. To watch people and see that their forever was right in front of their eyes and to confirm every moment of it with vows and unspeakable glances that felt like a bound contractual agreement.

As Cassidy stood in front of Harry now, her dress a mess of stain and wet, detergent marks, her eyes searched his for a moment before she looked up at him, with a different set of eyes, this time.

They were colored in a way that felt extraordinarily bright, like she had woken up from the darkest slumber. The mask of uncertainty was laying on the floor as she felt his hands lift her jaw to look at him, his feet taking a step forward.

“I think they say this at weddings,” He squinted at her, the line of a smirk coating his face as he kept his words quiet. Her hand moved up to hold his wrist as she bit on her lip softly, feeling the way that their lips tried to find one another—slow, encapsulated by an intense amount of tension, “’Speak now, or forever hold your peace’?”

The silence between them spoke for itself.

Harry pulled her forward, not rushed, but certainly not waiting a second longer. His lips attached to hers in a way that felt every single day of the last twenty years; the kiss that could have lasted the rest of his life without a doubt in his mind.

It was what was bound to happen all along; there just had to be a few frogs before the real prince revealed himself.

Well, that’s what Harry told himself, anyways. Cassidy would just roll her eyes, but knew that at the end of the day, it had always been him.

Exclusively him.

#harry styles x original character #harry writing #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluffy #harry styles au #harry styles #wattpadwriter #wattpad #harry wattpad #harry styles fanfic #ask #hs #harry styles fanfiction #anon ask #blurb writing #writing blurb #bound

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simstorian-blog · 5 months

Text

Rio Verde – Wedding Venue

(CC List + Links)

World Map: Oasis Springs

Area: Skyward Palms

Lot Size: 40 x 30

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

Packs Used

City Living

Cottage Living

Dine Out

Discover University

For Rent

Get Famous

Get Together

Growing Together

My Wedding Stories

Snowy Escape

Spa Day

Strangerville

Vintage Glamour Stuff Pack

Build Mode

Anachrosims – Murals Wallpaper Pt 1

Felixandre – Colonial Pt. 3 (Tiles)

Felixandre – Paris Pt. 3 (Boiserie Door Single)

Felixandre – SOHO Pt. 1 (Single Sink, Toilet + Toilet Remote, Travertine Floor, Wide Mirror)

Harlix – Harluxe (Shutter Window – Open)

Harlix – Tiny Twavellers (Plain Wall)

Harrie – Brownstone Pt. 2 (Arch Medium)

Harrie – Coastal Pt. 1 (Doors)

Harrie – Klean Pt. 2

Pierisim – Tilable (Plaster)

SimPlistic – Elegant Wallpaper Peacock

SimPlistic – Vintage Country Wallpaper

Buy Mode

13Pumpkin – Golf Cart

BlueTeas – Heron Office (Ceiling Lamps)

BlueTeas – Milano Lounge Chair

CowBuild – Urban Rug

Felixandre – Colonial Pt. 3 (Plant)

Felixandre – Florence Pt. 1 (Piano)

Felixandre – Grove Pt. 2 (Stacked Bowls, Stacked Plates)

Felixandre – Shop the Look 2 (Vanity)

Harlix – Bafroom (Wall Mirror Small)

Harlix – Baysic (Bedding w Blanket, Mirror in Stand, Packs Wardrobe, Short Dining Table)

Harlix – Baysic Bathroom (Modern Flush, Modern Wipe, Towel Clutter, Sink, Shower, Shower Wall)

Harlix – Kichen (Glasses, Olive Oil)

Harlix – Livin’ Rum (Coffee Table)

Harrie – Coastal Pt. 7 (Leaning Mirror)

Harrie – Halcyon (Kitchen Counter)

Harrie – Octave Pt. 4 (Double Light Switch)

Harrie – Shop the Look 2 Ceramic Side Table)

Joyce – Simple Live #5 (Bathrobe, Shower Gel)

KHD – Contemporary Sofa

Kta – Abstract Prints 3 (Mesh Needed)

Kta – Abstract Prints 4 (Mesh Needed)

LedgerAtelier – Stoneleigh Pt. 2 (Faux Wall with Porthole S, Porthole Window S)

Max20 – Ever After (Sign of Attention, Table)

Peacemaker – Hinterlands Living (Fringed Pouffe)

Peacemaker – Kassova Sectional

Pierisim – Calderone (Bedframe)

Pierisim – Domaine Du Clos Pt. 2 (Account Book)

Pierisim – Domaine Du Clos Pt. 3 (Curtains, Suitcases)

Pierisim – MCM Pt. 3 (Narrow Rug)

Ravasheen – Mini Fridge

Ravasheen – Invisible Dance Floor

Ravasheen – Lentil Things (Host Station)

SixamCC – Life in Plastic (Bar, Dining Oasis, Stool, Vanity Chair)

Sundays – Kediri Pt. 1 (Throw Pillow Solids)

TaurusDesign – Lilith Chilling Areas Pt. 1 (Sul Sul Sign)

Tuds – Cave (Panel Lights)

Tuds – Ind 02 (Décor Bottles, Wine Rack)

Tuds – Ind 03

Tuds – NCTR (Fridge, Tray w Cheese)

Winner9 – Yokeda Wall Lamp Triple

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

Tray Files: DOWNLOAD

#simstorian #the sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 #cc #ts4 simblr #build #sims 4 build #oasis springs #commercial lot #wedding venue

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ladyveronikawrites · 1 year

Text

photo Bryan Kirks

30 DAYS OF BAD OMENS Day 5 (impolite)

@signs-of-ill-portent 30 day writing challenge

pairing and k!nk list

Pairing:: Jolly Karlsson x Nick Folio x Nicholas Ruffilo x fem!reader

cw: D/s, service submission

MASTERLIST

_____

The cool ocean air washes over your skin when you roll to your side. A ding from your computer alerts you of a new email. Even on your vacation work is never too far behind. Rubbing your tired eyes you stretch your body long. The luxurious white duvet is warm against you beckoning you to remain, but duty calls. When you finally muster the willingness to open your eyes your vision is filled with white sands and aquamarine waters.

You grab your navy blue silk robe and wrap yourself in it as you approach your desk. You stifle a yawn as you open your email. A new client has inquired about your personal assistant ad. Your brows raise with curiosity as he makes some requests for your service, and mentions guidelines, and payment. All of his requests follow within your perimeters for service, although his additional requirement at the end of his email has you chuckling to yourself. He has already sent his booking fee.

I accept your offer, Mr. Joakim Karlsson.

You stroll up to a fancy private beach house with your suitcase and carry-on bag. Mr. Karlsson has requested you stay one week to learn his routine. You tug at your grey pencil skirt and adjust your glasses.

Mr. Joakim Karlsson answers the door and intently looks you over. His face remains passive as he gestures into the house. He is dressed casually in a black button-down shirt, black skinny jeans, and house slippers.

“Please take your shoes off.” Mr. Karlsson gestures to the shoe rack by the door. “I will have new clothes for you tomorrow.” His accent strikes your curiosity. It’s cold yet soft like freshly fallen snow. You begin to berate yourself as you take off your shoes.

“Let me show you to your room,” Mr. Karlsson cuts through your spiraling thoughts.

The room you will be staying in is simple. The walls are a cool dusty green shade and the bedroom suite is crisp white. Sheer linen full-length curtains rustle in the breeze from the open sliding door. The balcony overlooks a breathtaking view of the ocean.

“Settle in and I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

You quickly unpack your suitcase, organize your en suite bathroom, and set your laptop up. You grab your notebook and pen and make your way downstairs. You find Mr. Karlsson in the kitchen fixing lunch.

“I don’t expect you to cook for me as I enjoy cooking, but making my coffee and cocktails is incredibly important. I will be in my studio most of the day and unwinding at the poolside at night.”

Mr. Karlsson shows you the coffee and cocktail bar. You quickly scribble down his coffee and cocktail order. “When you serve me my coffee while I am in the studio set the mug on the floor and knock once.” Your hand begins to cramp as your pen dances along the page.

“You must bow and say ‘Your coffee sir.” do not look at me. If the beverage is poor I will hold the cup in my hand for you to take. If it is satisfactory I will drink it. If I request another drink I will hold up my index finger and if I don’t want another I will cross my hands. Do you have any questions?”

“No, Mr. Karlsson.” your voice falters slightly.

“Very well. I know this is a lot so please ask questions.” Mr. Karlsson looks down at his watch. “I will send you my itinerary for the week and tasks to be completed. I would like my afternoon coffee in 1 hour, let’s see how you do.” With that, Mr. Karlsson turns and walks away to his studio. Back in your room, you get straight to work making note of his itinerary and tasks. A knock on the door interrupts your frenzy. You shoot up from your chair and see Mr. Karlsson. He doesn’t say a word, then you realize you missed his coffee. Shit. You open your mouth to apologize but his raised hand stops you. “I will let this slide, as you are still learning. Tomorrow will be different. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Karlsson.”

“I will allow you to redeem yourself. Serve me my coffee outside on the patio.” Mr. Karlsson looks down at his watch. “You have 10 minutes.”

You clutch your notebook and sprint down the steps to the kitchen. A deep chuckle and footsteps follow behind you. Adrenaline pumps through you as you grab a mug from the coffee cart and put the coffee capsule into the Nespresso. You add his cream and sugar to his espresso to his specifications. Sweat drips down your neck.

You make your way to Mr. Karlsson who is lounging by the pool. You approach him with outstretched arms, you bow your head, and say “Your coffee sir.” His fingers brush against yours but you keep your gaze low. You take a step back waiting for his response. He sips the drink slowly, savoring it. He hums his approval.

“The coffee is good,” Mr. Karlsson praises. “But you are late. Tonight I will have company. Do better.”

“Yes, Mr. Karlsson.” He sets down his coffee and draps a hand on his on the other wrist; the sign he is finished.

“You are dismissed.”

“Thank you, Mr. Karlsson.” You nod slightly and head back into the house.

You busy yourself with organizing your room when your phone buzzes. The text reads:

My friends will be here at 8 pm. Your uniform must be all black.

Yes, Mr. Karlsson, you text back.

You quickly dress in a short sleeve mini dress and fitted black blazer. You tug on your platform Mary Janes. You remember to put your diamond thigh chain back on, per Mr. Karlsson’s request. You freshen up your hair and make up just as the door bell rings. You glance at your notebook one more time before leaving your bedroom.

Music and people fill the main level. Joakim Karlsson is lounging on the couch in the living room. He makes eye contact with you and nods slightly. You casually make your way to the bar and make Joakim’s drink. In a public environment Mr. Karlsson requests you call him by his first name, as to not expose his kink to non-consenting individuals. My posture is more relaxed.

“Your cocktail, Joakim,” I hand Joakim his drink. The world around me slows as he takes a sip then nods slightly. Success. In my periphery man guawks at our exchange. Joakim continues to chat with the people around him not missing a beat. His hands are relaxed in his lap. An index finger raises slightly. Another drink. When his gaze meets mine he stands.

“Guys, this is my personal assistant _y/n__.” A small smile spreads on your lips as Joakim introduces you to his friends Nicolas, Noah, and Nick.

“It’s impolite to stare,” Joakim smirks at Nick as the other guys tease him. You bite down a rising giggle.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Nicolas says warmly. His deep baritone wraps around my bones, heating your core.

“It’s nice to meet you as well.” you smile in return. Joakim turns back to his friends and you busy yourself with light cleaning around the kitchen. Every so often you glance up to see when you need to refill Joakim’s glass. His friends are getting rowdy when you hand Joakim his drink. This time he sets it down and crosses his wrists casually in his lap.

“Let’s play poker!” Nick exclaims. The guys clamor in agreement. Joakim gestures for you to follow out to the patio. You watch as everyone except from Joakim takes shots of whiskey. You commit to memory Joakim’s non-verbal cues to help you better serve him. He smiles softy at you when he catches you staring. After a few rounds of poker, Nick slurs obnixisouly that he has to pee. It takes every ounce of strength not to bust out laughing with the guys. In the short amount of time Joakim’s friends have made you feel welcome. Nick stumbles into the house as Noah sets up the next round.

“Where’s Nick?” Nicolas asks. Joakim looks over to me giving me a silent command. I make my way into the house to find Nick passed out on the couch snoring loudly. I cover my laugh with my hand and quickly compose myself.

“He is passed out on the couch.” You try your best to keep a straight face. A cheeky grin spreads across Joakim’s face. He rises to your level and whispers something in your ear. You shake your head in understanding trying to hide your toothy grin. Joakim asks Noah to assist you upstairs with your new task. Noah’s brows crease when you hand him a large box.

“You’ll see,” you smirk.

Noah hands Joakim the box. Joakim unboxes the maid dress, his special request. Nick is now almost completely naked on the couch.

“Help me dress him,” Joakim asks Noah and Nicolas. Howling laughter fills the room as they clumsily dress Nick. The guys take pictures of Nick. Someone shouts about a permanent marker and penis.

Joakim leans over to you an whispers “Thank you.” He squeezes your hand.

“Of course, Mr. Karlsson.” You squeeze his hand back as delight settles in your stomach.

[PART TWO] [PART THREE] [PART FOUR]

#jolly karlsson fanfiction #bad omens fanfiction #jolly karlsson fanfic #jolly karlsson fic #jolly karlsson smut #jolly karlsson x female reader #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #bad omens rpf #jolly karlsson #bad omens #30 days of bad omens #Bad Omens polyverse #ladyveronikawrites #tag: poly #cw: D/s #cw: service submission

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theladyofdeath · 1 year

Note

Short prompt: Rhysand accidentally finds Feyre's wedding dress before the wedding.

A/N: I love the whole "my wife is going to be pissed at me but I just can't help myself" dynamic, always. lol. Enjoy!

Warnings: language

Rhysand looked down at the checklist that his wife had given him, wishing he had a bottle of whiskey to accompany him on his mission. There was something about wedding planning that made him want to drown himself in liquor, but he also knew that it stressed Feyre out, so he wanted to help relieve the burden. With only two weeks to go, there was so much to do that Rhysand had sent Feyre away to the spa with her sisters, hoping it would ease some of the tension.

Even if that meant he had to pick up some of the slack.

Looking down at the list Feyre gave him, he sighed. He'd already gone to the grocery store to get their toiletries for their honeymoon and picked up Feyre's bridal party gifts from a local shop on the other side of town who specialized in embroidered gifts. It seemed that she only left him to do the minuscule tasks, which he supposed he should be grateful for, but he was also slightly offended.

For her, he'd do them anyway.

After slipping off his shoes and organizing everything he'd brought home on the kitchen counter, Rhysand was going to the guest bedroom to pull out their luggage. Finding their suitcases was the third thing on the list. Cleaning them off was the fourth. Why did their luggage need to be cleaned when they would be tossed around filthy conveyor belts, anyways? Rhysand didn't know, but he wasn't about to complain about something he could get done in ten minutes.

Swearing they were in the guest room closet, he strode inside, flinging open the closet. There wasn't a lot in this closet. It was mostly storage, which meant that it was a mess to sort through. Nonetheless, he stepped into the walk-in closet and took a look around.

There were a ton of boxes, one or two from Rhys's childhood - stuff he didn't want to throw away, but didn't want to display, either. There were also totes filled with Christmas decorations that he was glad he wouldn't have to see for another six months.

As Rhysand approached the back of the closet, he chuckled, knowing full well what he'd find. Feyre was horrible about getting rid of anything. While he only had a couple of boxes from his childhood and his youth, Feyre had piles on piles of stuff. He understood it. She hadn't had a lot growing up and wanted to hold onto what she could. There were boxes of toys, cds, and photographs, all of which he had looked through before with his future wife, laughing at what horrible tastes she'd had as a teenager. On the rack near the back were a couple of prom dresses. The only one Rhysand had seen her in was her senior year dress, which is when they had met, once she and her sisters moved to Velaris.

He looked at it now, black and glittery with a slit up the thigh, and the image of her that night popped into his mind perfectly clear. She had been beautiful. He swore that was the night he had fallen in love with her, even if they didn't start dating for another few months later.

He looked at the other dresses then, from prom and other dances. When he made it to the end of the line, he frowned. There was a dress in a big, black bag. One he swore he had never seen before. He pulled it out and froze when he saw the cursive script written across the front. Starlight Bridal.

This was where she had hidden her wedding dress.

Suddenly, Rhysand hesitated. He knew he shouldn't look at it, knew Feyre wouldn't want him to, knew that he wasn't meant to see it before it was on her as she walked down the aisle.

But fuck, he was tempted.

Surely a little peek wouldn't hurt. Right?

Before he could think better of it, Rhysand unzipped the bag, just a smidgen.

The second he saw the ivory lace, he zipped it back up, quickly. No. She wouldn't want him seeing it, so he wouldn't look.

Well, he wouldn't look more than he already had.

After putting the dress back where Feyre'd had it, he took their suitcases off the top shelf and hurried out of the guest room, just as the front door opened.

"Rhys?"

He swore quietly as he brought their empty suitcases down the hall to their bedroom. "Hey! Have fun?"

"No." He could hear her sigh from upstairs. "I couldn't relax. All I can think about is this damn wedding."

"Maybe we should just elope," he said, putting the suitcases in the corner of their room. When he walked into the hall, she had just made it to the top of the stairs.

He smiled.

She raised her brows. "You look guilty."

Rhysand froze. "Hmm?"

"You have that look that a toddler has when they've just done something to get them put into timeout." She stepped closer to him, eyes narrowed.

"I..." he hesitated, trying his best not to look toward the guest room door. "Forgot to call the florist before they closed."

Feyre stilled. For a second, Rhysand thought she would call bullshit, even though calling the florist had been on the checklist and, no, he hadn't gotten around to it. At last, she shook her head. "Seriously? I give you five things to do. Five. And I give you the whole day to do them. And you don't-"

Rhysand had walked toward her as she ranted, but before she could finish scolding him, he pulled her close to him and met her lips with his.

Instantly, she shut up and slid her arms around his neck, melting into him as his tongue brushed hers. They sank into that kiss, and Rhysand let it linger - both because it was relaxing her and because he needed a second to still his hectically beating heart.

When she pulled back, her eyes were bright and her lips were swollen. "Can you do that every time I bitch at you?"

"If it shuts you up, absolutely," Rhysand muttered, and she gave him a playful shove before kissing him again.

"Seriously, though," she said, meeting his gaze, "please call the florist first thing in the morning-"

This time, when Rhysand claimed her mouth, she didn't pull away. Instead, she let him carry her to the couch and lay her down, her stress slowly leaving her body as they made love.

He wouldn't dare tell her what he saw.

Or didn't see.

But he imagined it every damn day until the moment that he finally saw her in that dress, walking down the aisle to say I do.

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hamsterbellbelle · 1 year

Photo

Additional CC list for Abandoned Subway Strip Club🎦:

Accessory rack || Ad.poster || Animated ceiling decor || Animated neon || Animated Steam || Bag || Bar island-counter || Beaded curtain || Beckoning cat || Beer bottle || Bowl stack/cereal/dirt plates || Broken mirror || Broom || Bubble tea || Ceiling fan/vent/column/platform || Ceiling light || Chair with clothes || Cleaning agent || Clothing accessories || Clothing rack || Community sign || Counter || Cyberpunk backdrop || Disco ball/laser || Door panel/metro sign/Cyberpunk screen || Drain || Dressing room sofa/blanket || Elevator || Escalator || File cabinet || Floor dirt || Floor/wall line || Floor - A - B || Hairdryer/dresser clutter || Hologram tree || Hotel sign || Jewelry || Laser light || Lightbox sign || Lizzie’s bar neon sign || Magazine/rug || Metal chair || Mirror || Mirror-window || Monitor || Motorbike (deco) || Neon light - A - B - C || Newspaper stand clutter || Office wine || Ottoman/sofa || Panel/wire with sparkle/fire barrel || Paper bag || Plant rack || Police tape || Puddle || Ramen neon sign || Scattered clothes || Sci-fi pillar || Shampoo clutter || Sink/hairdryer || Sink || Spot light || Staircase arch || Stickers || Sticky notes || Subway arch || Subway debris || Subway interior decor || Subway ticket machine || Suitcase || Tissue box || Toilet stall door || Toilet stall || Trashcan/mirror box || Tray clutter || Urinal || Used tissue || Vanity table || Vase || Vent || VIP room sofa || VIP rope || Wall clothes - A - B || Wallpaper - A - B - C - D - E - F - G || Whiteboard || Wine glass/VIP bucket || Wire || Wooden pallet || 🐹 🐹 🐹 🐹 🐹 Animated billboard || Animated scroll || Arch light || Archway || Bar stool/round coffee table || BEEP || Computer || Cyberpunk decal || Cyberpunk neon light || Dance club TV and panels || Elevated microwave || Floor light || Food stall || Metal panel || Minibar || Modular sofa || Neon sign - A - B || Office desk || Station sign || Stereos || Wall duct || Wire/panel || Zebra wallpaper || Zone number ||

#sims4 #ts4 #cclist #myfinds #cc #subwaystripclub

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because-she-goes · 1 year

Text

june baby

warnings: swearing, edibles, matty & nora being high and flirty. Enjoy!

Matty pulled out a baggy from his suitcase, unpacking the heaps of clothes he had brought to stay with Nora for the summer. Tonight was night one, and also Nora Downey’s 24th year around the sun. She was currently taking a shower, claiming to look hideous with her oily hair and wreaking of paint - Matty couldn't disagree more, he loved every version of her without question. Putting his things away in the guest room’s dresser and setting up his makeshift work space, he lights a candle. The Maison Louis Marie “Bois de Balincourt” , one he’s rebought countless times - always finding the earthy scent relaxing. Hearing the shower cut off and Nora’s singing halt, he freezes. She’s naked in the same building as him, naked just steps away from him. He sets aside the lust - at least for a moment - and smiles at the thought of her feeling so safe and comfortable around him that she can take a shower in peace. She can be her normal, natural self. She never did feel at home enough to shower around Derek, it would always get interrupted by him barging in and making advances toward her or turning what was supposed to be a simple, relaxing “everything shower” into a frenzied sexual matter - leaving her feeling dirtier than when she walked into the bathroom.

She gets dressed in her room, throwing on a shirt Matty had given her on one of their first outings in London and some jean shorts. The shirt read as follows: Make A Woman Cum For Once, in red lettering across her boobs. She loved it, how Matty could be so mischievous and cheeky sometimes. A bad boy, if you will. Stepping out into the main area, she waited for Matty. The plan today was to go around and show Matty her New York and her spots in the city.

That all went out the window when Matty came back out of his room to the main area holding a baggy.

“Thought we’d have a fun, ‘Welcome to New- what is that?” She starts rattling off when she sees him.

“Brownies?” He hesitantly says, holding the bag higher.

“….Fun brownies?”

“The funnest.”

Matty holds out the bag to her, an excited grin across his face. He knew Nora had been stressed about him getting there safely and in one piece, insisting he get the in-flight wifi so they could still whatsapp. She splits one in half and starts to nibble on it, handing him the other half. They both eat and take a seat on her couch, flicking on whatever movie was on TV.

— An hour later —

Matty was high as a kite, giggling as Nora led him through Central Park. She was in euphoria, the high of the brownie finally settling in.

“Baby, ya gotta take a picture of me in the shirt. Its too funny!” She laughs, looking back over her shoulder.

“Okay, doll face. Ready? Give me a strut, god you’re so hot! Show me love, baby!” He cheers, fits of giggles washing over him as he clicked his camera.

A guy across the street wolf whistles at her, she lowers her sunglasses and gives him a wink. Matty nearly falls on the ground from trying to walk backwards - and yeah, she did look especially hot in her shorts and baby tee winking, hair swinging as she walked. The golden hour lighting making her skin positively radiant.

She then spots a gifts store and without warning bolts inside, Matty bumbling after her.

“Matt honey, we gotta get ya one as a welcome gift! Oh you’d look so cute in an I <3 NY shirt!”

“Sign me up, angel! Grab me a large.” He accepts, coming up behind her

She grabs a white one off the rack, swings to face him. Holding it up to him to check the fit, and nods.

“Perfect!” She happy dances and pays for it at the register.

Matty, in his… altered state, decides that the sidewalk is a perfect location to change his shirt. Taking his button down off and throwing it over Nora’s shoulders, he grabs the cheesy shirt from the plastic bag and tosses it on. As he does, a girl gives him an unsolicited “hot bod, babe!” and Nora looks like she could kill the innocent girl.

“Too bad he’s fuckin’ me, sweetie!”

Matty breaks out into more giggles at the jealousy as Nora eye rolls, walking down the street. His hand in the back pocket of her shorts.

— Two hours later —

“Hungry, handsome?” She prompts, looking at him. Sun now set, New York now lit up in all of its glory.

“Actually yeah, but we did have the pizza so I dunno about a full meal again, baby.”

“Bodega it is!” They make their way to the corner store and in the come down from the high, start grabbing snacks left and right. Doritos, oreos, M&Ms, pretzels, popcorn, you name it they buy it.

While they’re looking at the sodas, something about the lighting and the way Nora looks tonight has Matty in a trance. He moves toward her and leans in… “Come here, baby.” He takes her face between his hands and dives in.

She leans into him and moans into the kiss, feeling the corners of his lips turn up. It is slow and steady, romantic and sweet… everything she could ever want in a kiss. The taste of his peppermint gum taking over her senses. She takes his bottom lip between her teeth and pulls away, his eyes roll back.

“Fuck, you’re good.” He laughs, releasing her.

“You’re better, baby.” She winks.

“How about we head home and we settle this debate, birthday girl?”

“Was wondering when you were gonna ask that, haven’t even gotten my present yet have I?” She smirks looking at him melt.

“Fuck no you haven’t, baby.”

They walk out of the bodega and Nora hails the cab. They snack on their way home, “fuel for later” Matty says as he munches on some peanut M&Ms. She laughs, throwing a piece of popcorn in her mouth.

“Happy birthday to me!” She giggles, beaming at his flustered appearance.

#matty healy #the 1975 #drew’s writing :)#matty x nora #matty bday week !!#this was so fun omg #LOVE them #an encounter

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allthewritem0ves · 6 months

Text

Christmas

Part One: Leaving for Stovepipe

A whole month went by. The wind was blowing even colder now that it was winter. For this holiday however, everyone was heading to Stovepipe Junction.

E.B. took it upon herself to help her brother pack his suitcase. “You excited, Junior? We’re gonna spend Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa!”

“Nana and Pop-pop!”, the boy insisted.

“I’ll never understand why we refer to them differently”, the girl remarks. “But you’re still excited, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” As E.B. placed Junior’s essentials in his suitcase, she also notes the toys he wanted to bring too. “Ok. Junior?”

“Yes, Sissy?”

“I don’t think Mom and Dad will let you bring all these.”

“Why not?”, he whined.

“Because you need room for everything you need first. Plus, it’s only for a few days.”

“Well, duh. Tewwy, Molwy, Mikaela and Jenny are gonna wanna pway too.”

“Junior, our cousins have plenty of toys too. I know they’ll be happy to share with you!”

The boy racked his brain for a moment. Then he finally said: “Fine.”

“Good! But Mom and Dad will still let you bring a few toys. Which ones do you wanna bring?”

He names the toys as he points to them. “Mr. Bwizzytops, Cwyde and the Penguin.”

“Nice ones, little brother”, the girl said with a smile.

——

“You excited, Guy?”

“‘Course!”

Michellee wrapped her arms around her husband from behind as he rifled through his bureau. Now that it was this time of year again, the two of them really tried to maintain high spirits with not just each other, but also their kids and friends. One thing’s for sure is that they don’t want a repeat of last year. (Think you all know what events I’m referring to.) Michellee decided to hold her tongue on the particular subject of last year.

Instead she said, “This Christmas is gonna be great. I know it is.” She kisses his cheek.

Guy rubs one of Michellee’s hands with his own. From time to time, more often than he could count, he looked back on just how much better his life became in the past few years. Becoming a husband and father, improving his life with family, becoming a godparent, all the friends he made in that time…

He takes both of Michellee’s hands and turns around, her spinning like they were dancing, then looking each other in the eye. They lean their foreheads together.

“Now, now, Guy. Don’t start being cute”, she joked.

“I just wanted to tell you…you’re my everything”, he says softly.

The woman blushed. Then they kissed.

“Eww!”, said a small voice from the doorway. The couple separated to see their son standing there.

“Guy Jr.!”, his father exclaimed. “What is it?”

“Sissy and I finished packing.”

“That’s good, son. Mommy and I will be done soon.”

“But you’re not packing wight now!”

“Uh-”, Guy began, but Michellee stopped him.

“We’re just taking a break, son. Go play with E.B. till we get you.”

“Okay.” Then he leaves.

Once he was gone, Guy then says, “That probably killed the moment.” Inwardly, he says No kidding, genius.

“Just a little”, Michellee says.

——

In the meantime, all the way at their house, Sam and Gluntz were helping their little girl, Molly, pack her bag. They had a particularly huge suitcase for their daughter who was barely a year old. The reason for that was because they wanted to pack everything essential for her. Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly if you really knew them, that was nearly everything she owned.

While Gluntz jumped up and down on the suitcase top to get it to close, Sam kept Molly entertained.

“You excited, little peach? It’s your first Christmas!”

Molly smiled.

Sam scooped her up and continued, “Your grandmas and grandpas are excited too!” He takes one of her little hands and holds it, dancing with her.

In the meantime, Gluntz was getting nowhere with the suitcase. “Oh-my-Seuss”, she says in between jumps. “Will-this-thing-close?!”

“Guess we’ll have to pull out the bungee cords.”

“Yeah-I-guess-we-do!” She finally stopped jumping. There was a knock at the door. “I’ll get it.”

Rushing downstairs, Gluntz opened the door. There she saw her future in-laws: Pam, Grinch, Jenny, Melanie, Jack, Terry and Mikaela. Even Max was there.

“Hi, everyone!”

“Gluntz!” Melanie squeezed her way through, using her free arm to hug her soon to be sister-in-law; Mikaela rested in her other arm.

The yellow-furred Knox returned the hug.

“Mmm!”, Mikaela hummed.

“Hi, Mimi!”, Gluntz greeted her soon-to-be niece. “You almost said something there!”

“Can we come in now, you two?”, Pam asked. “It’s really cold out here.”

“Oh, sure! Please!”

Jack came and shook Gluntz’s hand. “Hey, Gluntz.”

“Jack. Merry Christmas.” Then she noticed- “Where’s your dad?”

“Couldn’t join us today. Had a little accident and he’s at the hospital.”

“Oh no! What happened?”

“Tripped over a curb. Twisted his ankle. Needs to be off it for a few weeks.”

Gluntz nods. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll try to see him when I can.”

“Thank you.”

She takes a breath and walks into the living room. “On another note, let’s all enjoy the moment. Everyone else will be here soon to pick us up.”

Sam greeted everyone too. Then he specifically asked Pam: “Mom, could you give me a hand with something?”

——

As Guy moved his and Michellee’s luggage downstairs, he went over to the table with the key bowl and opened the drawer. He pulled out a big black folder. Inside were eighteen tickets for everyone; ten adults, three teens and five babies.

He felt happy that his shop was making bank, especially this time of year. Now the family seemed to be even bigger than it did a year ago.

Against his better judgment, Guy very briefly looked back on last Christmas. All he wanted was for everyone to have a fun vacation in Whoville. One thing he never anticipated was their past catching up with all of them.

Everything that happened was still felt today. Pam was forced to confront her husband’s murderer, who also partially dismembered her son. E.B. was kidnapped and had her life threatened unless he and Sam sold out to their enemy, leading to said dismemberment. The girl seemed to be better, but he knew she’d never live such an event down.

Guy didn’t realize he fell to his knees. His son found him. “Daddy! What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Junior!…I’m sorry, kiddo. Nothing’s wrong. I’m okay.” Technically, it was partially true. He embraced Junior. One highlight from the trip was his son saying his first word. His lexicon grew so much more since then. “You ready for a good Christmas?”

The boy nods vigorously.

“Good!” Guy stands up. “Wanna go with me to pick up Looka and Sonja?”

Another excited nod.

Before leaving, Guy went back upstairs to Michellee. “Hon?”

“Yes?”

“Junior and I will be heading to the airport to pick up Looka and Sonja. If we’re not back by then, you take the vans and pick up everybody; they should be at Sam and Gluntz’s house.”

“Okay.”

“The rest of the tickets are in the living room. See you in a bit.”

“Bye, Mommy!”

“See you two soon!”

——

Gerald and Lianna arrived at their daughter’s house a while after the rest.

Sam greeted them first. “Gerry! Lee!”

“Hey, Sam!” Lianna embraced him. Her hold was so tight it almost broke him in half. Gerald’s greeting was much more subdued: a handshake.

Then the older couple saw a little one run toward them. It was their granddaughter Molly. Lianna picked her up first.

“Uh, hon, maybe I should hold her”, Gerald suggested. “You’re less muscular, but have no control”, he joked.

“Maybe so. But I know how you are! You think she loves you more than me!”

“No!”

They continued their lighthearted back and forth into the living room. Everyone else smiled. Terry ducked behind the couch.

“Glad you made it, Mom and Dad”, Gluntz said.

“Wouldn’t miss our grandbaby’s first Christmas for the world, honey-bunny.”

Pam smiled. Molly was her granddaughter too; she wouldn’t miss her first Christmas either. She subconsciously grabbed Grinch’s hand.

Melanie butted in with, “It’s my daughter’s first Christmas too.” She picks up Mikaela from her carrier. “Mom, Dad, you’re excited for her too, right?”, she asks Pam and Grinch.

“Without a doubt, Mel”, Grinch says.

“It’d also be our first Christmas with Terry too”, Pam adds. “Where’d he go, by the way?”

Jack and Melanie looked around scared until Sam pointed next to the couch.

“What were you doing over there, young man?”, Melanie asked him.

Terry shook his head.

“They’re your cousin’s grandparents, sweetie. You don’t have to be nervous.” Melanie kept her voice soft; she knew her son didn’t like when things were too loud. She turned to Gerald and Lianna, saying, “Terry’s just shy. He just needs to get to know you two more.”

“It’s ok, Melanie”, Lianna answered.

——

Michellee and E.B. packed their family’s bags in the back of van number one. Vans numbered two and three followed behind. Guy and Junior hadn’t returned with their guests yet, so the two of them took it upon themselves to pick up everyone else. They arrived at everyone else’s rendezvous point.

“Wait here please”, she told the driver. She then got out of the van and knocked on the door.

“Michellee!” It was Sam who’d answered the door again.

“Hello, Sam! We got the vans for everyone, so we gotta go!”

“On it!”

It was pandemonium to get everyone out of there: suddenly, Molly found the energy to run about the living room, forcing everyone to try and wrassle her; Mikaela, out of the blue, needed to be changed; bags refused to stay closed and their latches came undone.

At long last, they all finally got their stuff together and took their seats in the vans.

On the ride to the train station however, Michellee tapped her foot nervously as Guy didn’t seem to be close. She certainly didn’t want to leave him and Junior behind. The train wasn’t gonna leave as soon as they boarded it, thank Seuss, but she still felt a touch nervous.

——

Guy finally saw the royal kids approaching him. For being royalty, they dressed very lowkey; this prevented them from being overrun by the crowd.

“Mr. Am-I”, Looka greeted. “Nice to see you again.”

“You too, kid.”

“Greetings, sir”, Sonja greeted.

“Hello, young lady.”

“Where’s E.B.?”

“Everyone else should be at the train station by now. We gotta hurry there.”

Guy held the back door open for them. The two of them got in while he put their bags in the trunk.

“Hi, Wooka! Hi, Sonja!”

“Hi, little buddy” and “Hello, Junior”, they greeted back respectively.

The car then pulled off in utmost haste.

Before long, they finally made it to the train station. They grabbed their things and ran onboard with their tickets in hand.

“Guy! There you are!”, Michellee sighed with relief upon seeing him.

“It was close, but yep, we’re here! Everyone else?”

“All in their rooms.”

“Nice.”

The train lurched forward and began its journey towards Stovepipe Junction.

#green eggs and ham #fanfic #guy am i #sam i am #eb #michellee #pam i am #gluntz #the grinch #oc

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