#fortunately i just have one more day at home and it is a saturday so my sister is home | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kiarastromboli · 2 months

Text

𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧:

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐱 𝐲/𝐧

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘: Masturbation, smoker!reader.

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Matt's life is going to be completely upheaved by an encounter he will have one day at work, leading him to discover a new feeling: obsession.

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: I'm glad to come back with this new series that I had in mind for a while. I hope you'll enjoy it. The first chapter is from Matt's point of view, but it's possible that in the days to come, the point of view will shift to that of the reader. Anyway, I'll inform you beforehand. Feel free to ask me in the comments if you want to be part of the taglist. Enjoy reading!

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐, 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐫𝐞 𝟑

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏:

My life has always been a damn bottomless pit without interest. I grew up in a normal family, in a normal town surrounded by normal people; there was nothing special about me.

I've always had this feeling of discomfort, like something was missing from my life.

In high school, I tried to fill that void with sports like any other teenager, but nothing worked.

I was fortunate to be a triplet, so I started life with people to love and who loved me in return.

Naturally, people think that having siblings erases the loneliness of life, but it's false. I had my brothers, but I still felt that emptiness and loneliness.

As I grew older, I realized that I would never fill this void, that I was destined to have an uninteresting life and become Mr. Average.

I moved to New York, where I found a job in a bookstore, which seemed more than logical given my passion for books.

I lived five minutes away from my brother Chris, and Nick, my other brother, continued his studies in Boston.

My weeks repeated and resembled each other.

I worked on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. On Wednesday, I spent the day with Chris; most of the time, we just went out to eat and stroll. As for Sunday, I dedicated it to my motorcycle rides and various hobbies.

By various hobbies, I mean fleeting activities that I forced myself to practice to keep me from losing my mind from living the same days on repeat.

But all of that was before her.

When I saw her for the first time, I felt like I was waking up after an endless sleep.

It was a Thursday evening, we were about to close, I just had to put away the last books we had received, and I could finally close the shop and go home.

That was until I heard the sound of the little bells at the entrance jingling as the door opened.

I sighed when I heard the door open, thinking, 'Another bookworm waiting until the last moment to come get their fill of books.'

I went back to the counter to wait for the person who was there to bring me their book so I could quickly scan it and finally go home.

I honestly expected a student with glasses or some nonsense like that, so I was surprised to see this brown-haired girl a few meters away from me, browsing the shelves to find what she wanted.

I'm not the type to linger on pretty girls, but she had something extra.

She was wearing this navy blue sweater three sizes too big for her, which forced her to roll up her sleeves, and you could see the collar of her white shirt peeking out underneath.

With that, she wore a small brown pleated skirt that matched the bow she had in her hair.

An outfit that said a lot and so little at the same time.

I'm the type to analyze people on a daily basis; it's my thing when you work in a bookstore like this one in New York, you get bored very quickly.

I had a little game with myself where I enjoyed deciphering the people who entered this shop, first by their way of dressing, then by their mannerisms, and finally, I drew a conclusion based on the book they bought.

However, I was stuck on her way of dressing; I couldn't really figure it out. Her outfit was simple and casual, sure, but there was this complexity with her accessories that made me wonder if she did it on purpose or if she just randomly picked out clothes.

I mean, who pairs such a large sweater with such a small skirt? Maybe it's her boyfriend's sweater?

When I thought that, I felt anger rising within me, but why? I don't even know her; what does it matter to me whether she has a boyfriend or not?

I shook my head to try to think of something else and continued to observe her.

She had been wandering around the store for five minutes, stopping at each aisle without ever grabbing a book. Does she even read, or did she just come here thinking she'd find a fun book to read for once?

Even her behavior was indecipherable; the more I looked at her, the more intrigued I became.

She finally stopped at the romance section, where she picked up a book before walking towards me with a big smile.

Strangely, I felt a certain stress when her eyes landed on me; I hadn't realized how harmonious her face was.

"Good evening," she said warmly, placing the book in front of me.

"Good evening," I replied nervously.

"I hope I'm not bothering you by coming at this hour. I'm new in town, and I thought you closed later," she said politely.

"No worries; I didn't have anything planned after anyway," I replied without looking at her; I was far too intimidated for that.

I scanned her book, and of course, that's when the cash register decided not to work properly, leaving us face to face in an awkward silence while I tried to open the register.

She seemed amused, judging by the little chuckle she let out, and when I looked up at her, she simply said, "Sorry," timidly, unable to suppress the little smile on her lips.

I finally managed to unlock the cash register, then gave her the change and reached for a small bag to put her purchase in.

That's when I saw the book she had chosen.

"Pride and Prejudice, good choice," I said without thinking too much.

"I know, I've read it already," she said, chuckling, and I looked up at her to watch her.

"It's a gift," she added.

"For your boyfriend?" I said again without thinking, and this time I quickly added, "Sorry, that was very intrusive of me."

She looked at me with a smile before saying, "For a friend, I don't have a boyfriend."

"Good to know," I replied, handing her the book.

She took the bag with her book inside and turned to start walking towards the exit, and I was dying to catch up with her to continue talking, but I stood there frozen like an idiot.

She walked through the door, and I sighed.

My heart started beating normally again, and I felt a sense of longing in her absence.

My life, which until now had been flat and uninteresting, was unknowingly taking a whole new turn.

I finished tidying up the bookstore, trying to distract myself, but she continued to haunt my thoughts.

I kept asking myself hundreds and thousands of questions.

Will I see her again? What did she think of me? What's her name? What does she do for a living?

Fuck, what had she done to me? I thought as I pushed the door of the store to leave and locked it behind me.

Unintentionally, the key to my apartment detached from the keychain around my waist, and I hadn't noticed until a familiar voice informed me.

"Hey, you dropped this!" the girl from the bookstore said, catching my attention and tapping my shoulder.

I turned around and felt my heart race again when I found myself face to face with her; if she keeps this up, she'll give me a heart attack.

"Thanks," I said, taking my keys from her hand.

Unintentionally, my eyes roamed over her body, analyzing her.

I noticed the butt of a cigarette she held in her other hand, probably the reason she was still around.

"No problem," she said, smiling.

"Can I ask your name, if it's not too forward?" I asked, curious.

"Y/n," she said, extending her hand after finishing her cigarette and tossing it to the ground to crush it with her foot.

"I'm—" I started to say before she cut me off.

"Matt, yeah, I know," she said quickly, and I looked at her confused.

She knows my name?

"Oh, um, it was on your apron earlier, I promise I'm not a weirdo," she said, chuckling, and I chuckled too.

She seems observant too, interesting.

"You don't really seem like a weirdo, if that reassures you," I said, smiling.

"And you don't seem like a guy who reads romance novels; I guess we can all be surprising, maybe you should watch out," she said, shrugging with a smirk.

"Pride and Prejudice is a classic; I work in a bookstore, I have to know my classics," I replied.

"Fair enough," she said, smiling.

A moment of silence ensued, leaving us there in the middle of the street, staring into each other's eyes.

"Are you just passing through here?" I asked, to break the unbearable silence.

"Hm?" she simply hummed, confused.

"You said you were new here earlier," I clarified.

"Oh, um, no, let's just say I'm in the process of settling in," she said, nodding.

"Great, I hope to see you around here then," I said, smiling.

"There's a chance that could happen; this bookstore seems nice, and who knows, maybe I'll need a friend who knows their stuff to advise me," she said, smiling back.

"You already consider me your friend? Wasn't it you who said I should watch out?" I teased her.

"Oh, because you thought I was talking about you? No way, I was talking about my friend who works at the same bookstore as you!" she said, trying to justify herself.

"Oh, really? I probably know that friend then," I said with a smirk.

"Okay, you got me; I'm a big liar," she said, raising her hands, and I laughed.

"I already suspected that," I said, chuckling.

We stayed silent once again, staring into each other's eyes before she spoke again.

"Well, I have to go if I want to have a chance to catch a taxi before it's too late," she said, playing with the ends of her hair.

"I can drop you off if you live nearby," I offered.

"Whether by car or taxi, the journey is still long in the streets of New York, and I don't want to bother you with an extra 20-minute ride," she said timidly.

"I guess it's a good thing I have a motorcycle then," I said, pointing to my bike parked a few steps away.

"I don't know... um," she said, shaking her head hesitantly.

"If you don't trust me and prefer to go by taxi, I totally understand, I won't hold it against you," I said reassuringly.

"You know what? Fuck this; a little danger never hurt anyone, and anyways, if you try to kidnap me, know that I did boxing in middle school, so I won't go down without a fight," she said, pointing her finger at me, and I laughed.

"Alright, Mike Tyson, let me just grab my spare helmet from the bookstore," I said, chuckling before doing just that.

When I returned, I handed her the helmet, which she put on.

She got on behind me after indicating where she lived, and we hit the road directly.

We weaved through traffic, and I could feel her little arms tighten around my waist with each acceleration.

I couldn't help but slightly harden beneath my jeans because of the proximity between us; I could feel her chest pressing against my back.

This girl had something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up when I looked at her.

She smelled like vanilla and cigarettes.

She was destabilizing, and I felt like I was losing my balance with every word she uttered.

Once we arrived at her destination, I stopped my motorcycle in front of her apartment complex.

It was large and luxurious.

I wondered if she was a daddy's girl to live here, or if she simply had a good job. In either case, this girl clearly wasn't short on money.

"Thanks for the ride," she said, smiling, after taking off her helmet to hand it back to me.

"It was my pleasure," I said, removing my helmet and staying on the bike while she got off.

"That was really nice; I'm glad I made a new friend," she said, quickly fixing her hair.

"So, we're friends?" I said, smiling.

"Of course," she replied, smiling back.

"Great," I said timidly, and a new silence fell.

"Um, I'm going to head in; it's getting late. Good night, Matt," she said this time in a much softer voice.

Why the sudden change in tone?

"Good night, Y/n," I replied, and she turned to walk towards her apartment complex.

I couldn't help but watch her as she went inside. I should have immediately started my bike and left, but I was stuck in place.

She paused in front of her stairs for a moment before suddenly turning around and running back towards me.

I watched her return, a little confused, and when she reached me, she simply said, "Hi."

"Hi," I replied, a bit confused but smiling.

"Is it weird if I suggest we see each other again? It's a friendly offer, of course; you just seem really interesting, and I felt silly leaving like that without suggesting we meet again," she said quickly, and I chuckled at her tone.

"Of course. I finish early on Saturdays; just drop by the bookstore, and we'll go for another motorcycle ride if you want," I said, smiling.

"Sounds great!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"Well, goodbye for real this time," she said, chuckling.

"Bye," I replied, watching her leave before putting my helmet back on and heading home on my motorcycle.

On the journey back, I had only one thing on my mind: her.

Arriving home, I was surprised to find that my erection hadn't subsided.

How could this girl make me so hard without even touching me?

I felt bad for getting hard like this over a girl who seemed as innocent as her. What was wrong with me that I'd do something like this?

I sighed and slumped onto my couch.

I took off my pants and slid my hand under my boxers to touch the bulge there.

I started to stroke myself, unable to stop myself from thinking about her at that moment.

Her sparkling eyes, her long brown hair, her full lips that I was dying to kiss...

Why was she affecting me like this?

Her curves vaguely hidden by her oversized sweater, her legs, and especially her thighs that looked nice and soft.

"Oh my god," I muttered in a low voice, speeding up my movements and throwing my head back.

Her laughter and her voice, yes, her soft and slightly husky voice, almost like she was sick.

I edged dangerously close to the edge, and that's when I remembered her change in tone when she said, "Um, I'm going to head in; it's getting late. Good night, Matt," almost as if she was inviting me to follow her home and do all the things I was dying to do to her.

Maybe she was just as eager as I was. For my hands on her body, my lips on hers, and my name coming out of her mouth.

I thought about what she would look like sitting on me without her clothes, screaming my name, and it pushed me over the edge.

"Y/n," I moaned before climaxing.

I can't deny it any longer, this girl is clearly becoming my obsession.

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

Taglist: @mayhem-72 @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @bernardenjoyer @whicked-hazlatwhore @nicksmainbitch

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo edit #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #smut #beyond reason

219 notes · View notes

1d1195 · 4 months

Text

Dolcezza VIII

Read Dolcezza here.

Here's the last part. (I actually have more but not sure if it's enough for a full part.) Maybe I'll save it for an extra, please send feedback if you think it needs more. I hope you've enjoyed 💕

Warnings: angst. more stalking. more crying. some fluff. If it helps at all, I wanted THIS part to be a cliffhanger as well (you can make your own guesses where I would have ended it, mwahahaha), and I imagine if that were the case I would have received a lot of hate messages. Hence why the last three parts were so terrifying hehehe

~8.7k words

Harry thought about the first time he met her, when he physically bumped into her. The first expression he ever saw on her face was one of pain from how she fell so hard to the ground. Then there was the night she was sick, and she looked so physically broken, Harry wanted nothing more than to take that away from her with nothing more than minestrone soup. Their argument from a few days ago also induced a sad and broken expression on her pretty face.

On Friday she worked a half-day at home, which allowed her to get her car fixed—they gave her a rental to assure her the problem wouldn’t continue since it seemed that would be the case after the last bout of car trouble. Her apartment was clean, thanks to Harry. So, all while working quietly at her desk, she had to sit with the fact that even though they were in an argument, he still took care of her. She had to find a way to apologize to him. But unfortunately, Eleanor was right: she was extremely stubborn and hurt that he went through her stuff. It was obvious that going through her stuff wasn’t the problem. She was certain Harry could move in after a month and it wouldn’t feel weird. It was very much that Harry was worried that bothered her. She wished she had hidden the picture better.

After a lot of arguing with Eleanor, they finally came to an agreement. There were a lot of tears from both parties, but Eleanor made her promise that she was the line. She apologized for not telling her and Eleanor apologized for shouting the stuff about her inability to accept help in front of Harry. The irrational part of her brain could only handle one person worrying about her. Eleanor had known her longer and understood her craziness. Harry was wonderful. He probably understood it just as well and yet she couldn’t bring herself to let him in as fully as Eleanor.

On Friday night, she laid on her sofa and watched a lineup of movies that never failed to evoke rivers of tears from her to get them out of her system. All of Saturday was spent agonizing over her frustration with not speaking to Harry, trying, and failing to read her book and mindlessly helping James and Emma with their various requests. She read Emma’s beautiful essays making her feel more overwhelmed with how much her baby sister had grown. Around noon she met James halfway to get him groceries and told him repeatedly that she was fine, just tired each time he asked her what was wrong. Returning to her apartment made her feel exhausted as if it was already midnight. But her mind wouldn’t let her sleep, which would have been preferable.

That antsy feeling she had brought her to the gym. Using the stair climber felt like hell. It was supposed to help but it made her feel worse. Sweaty and more exhausted than ever, she returned to her apartment hoping she would just fall asleep after a while. Instead of helping in the kitchen on a busy Saturday night as she often did, she stayed in, staring at the ceiling above where she was lying on the sofa.

Fortunately, Eleanor FaceTimed her. She explained all her frustration with her family. How she felt so busy and overwhelmed. Her voice cracked and her eyes welled with tears. “I’m really worried about you, babe,” Eleanor frowned. “It’s like senior year all over again,” she reminded her. She knew what she meant—an overwhelming amount of anxiety plagued her as she applied for jobs and completed her final capstone project. All while managing to help James and Ethan with their own applications for college and scholarships. She nodded unable to deny how she felt any longer.

“I know,” she whispered sadly.

“If your car is still broken, why don’t you have Harry pick me up from the airport next week? I’m sure he won’t mind,” she said it so casually and easily.

It seemed they didn’t get to that part of the conversation the other day as Harry probably intended. Sighing heavily, she put her arm across her eyes. “You can’t get mad,” she mumbled.

“Babe,” she whined with a frown and looked at her, already hurt it seemed. “Are you serious?!”

She explained everything. A month ago, about the picture and note—Eleanor was very unhappy to say the least. How she didn’t tell anyone. Then she told her how Harry cleaned her apartment for her even though they were arguing about him telling on her to Eleanor. Then he found the picture. Her ridiculous reaction and why she felt so uncomfortable with people worrying about her.

“I think I’m in love with him.” She whispered, teary and sad with her own actions.

“Obviously,” Eleanor rolled her eyes.

“Maybe...I need to go down to the kitchen,” she sounded like she was suggesting a plan as she spoke to Eleanor. “I have to apologize,” she nodded decidedly. “I have to let him in and let him worry, don’t I?”

“Yes, you idiot,” her voice was devoid of emotion. “I know, really know how hard this is for you, but it’s Harry. He adores you. You can see it on his utterly expressive face. Someone like Harry can’t pretend what he’s feeling—and he wouldn’t either.”

“What if I’m bad at it? What if he doesn’t want to be with someone that’s crazy like me?”

“I’ve never seen you be bad at anything you set your mind too. Harry will forgive you. He’ll help you get better. Knowing him he’ll probably come up with a reward system of garlic bread for you if you want or kisses, if that’s your new thing with him.” She felt woozy listening to her best friend but couldn’t help but smile at the garlic bread idea. “As for not wanting you? You are crazy. Someone who isn’t in love wouldn’t worry about you the way Harry is.”

She listened as her best friend continued speaking but she couldn’t really focus on it suddenly because there was a distinct thud through the wall. A thud that she thought it had to be an actual elephant in the office because she was so sure that Antonio had the apartment sound proofed so thoroughly, that an earthquake could happen in the room next to her and she wouldn’t hear it. She tiptoed to her door, peering sideways through the peephole catching the door to the office was just barely opened.

Antonio was sick. She only knew that because she saw a picture of his sick little family on her Instagram feed earlier in the day. It was why she felt even guiltier about not going down to help in the restaurant because she knew that they would be short-staffed on a busy night without Antonio there.

So why was the door open?

She was trying to process why the door was open. She quietly stepped back from her own door, but she wasn’t in control of her own body. Her heart was beating a little faster than normal. Her brain tried to reason with her muscles that there had to be a reasonable explanation. Instead, her muscles continued moving; she pressed the volume button on her phone to turn Eleanor’s voice down even though she continued rambling about how Harry adored her and she was pretty sure he was in love with her too.

Not even the idea of Harry loving her could shake the nerves away.

“El... Eleanor,” she whispered listening intently to Antonio’s office door distinctly closing and three foreboding footsteps reaching her door. The clinking metallic sound of someone fiddling with the lock on her door came next. She had the phone pressed to her lips trying to soundlessly alert Eleanor as best she could as she scurried backwards as if the door was on fire. “El! STOP!” She hissed listening for more sound.

“What?” She could hear the eye roll in her friend’s voice. “You have to confront these emotions Harry is—” There was a low voice cursing outside her door as the lock was fiddled with more. She hurried to her bedroom with light footsteps praying it looked like she wasn’t home, closing the door as quietly as possible and then doing the same as she hid in her closet. Her heart hammered as Eleanor continued to give her all the reasons why she should just let herself love Harry. Just because she had dealt with people who didn’t appreciate her didn’t mean that Harry would be that way. In fact—

“Eleanor,” she whispered once more. But she heard the deadbolt creak open. Eleanor wasn’t listening to her. She had no choice but to end the call. Ignoring her immediate call back, she furiously texted Eleanor the scariest thing she had ever texted. She heard him creep across her living room floor. Her heart was in her throat, and she was lucky she peed right before Eleanor called when she got home from the gym, or she would have had a serious problem right then.

ANSWER THE PHONE Eleanor texted back.

She silently gulped and pressed the phone to her ear. She listened to Eleanor’s soothing voice. Her calmness despite the fact this was everything she knew Eleanor feared the first time she realized her best friend was being followed. The sound of him going through her stuff made her skin crawl. She should have listened to them; to El, to Louis, to Harry. Oh, she wished she called Harry.

Her body felt frozen with the phone against her ear. She couldn’t move. For everything she did for everyone else, she had never felt like this before. Not once had she ever been frozen in place. She never froze when she was scared—not when ten-year-old Emma broke her arm while she was bike riding and her eighteen-year-old babysitting self needed to hold it in place while James drove them to the hospital. When Ethan called saying James got in a car accident his freshmen year of college and he wrecked his car. When Dad told her that grandma wasn’t going to make it to her twenty-fifth birthday, and she should say goodbye. When Mom was worried about a strange lump she felt on her body, and she imagined life caring for her family without her mom anymore. When she promised to be the designated driver for Ethan and James and ended up standing between Ethan and another guy who had too much to drink arguing over something so ridiculous, she didn’t even remember it now.

Not once had she frozen in place like the way she was then. It was mortifying, all the fight and help she gave to everyone...it wasn’t there for herself.

“I know you can’t talk,” Eleanor whispered. She couldn’t do anything. She was frozen. If he made it to her bedroom, she wasn’t sure she would even be able to fight. That was the scariest realization of all. “I’m going to put you on hold and call Harry. I will be right back. If you don’t hear from me in five minutes, hang up and dial 911.” She hoped to GOD she could manage that if came to it. Hope the frozenness would dissipate long enough to dial 911.

It was one of those nights where everything was going wrong, and everything was too busy. Antonio was caring for Leo, the baby, and the missus—all sick with something Leo brought home from preschool, so Harry and Niall were left in charge. Normally, the sweet girl found her way down and situate herself at a station doing the takeout orders but given the little... spat (what else could he call it?) she seemed to be avoiding him.

His phone began vibrating in his pocket without pause for three full minutes, but he literally hadn’t a second to look at it. All he wanted was for the pretty girl to appear. He wanted to apologize profusely for overstepping. He just cared for her so much. Even if she wasn’t comfortable with how he handled things, he wanted to make it better. He cared so deeply for her it hurt to be apart from her without so much as a text message between them over the last two days. He managed to see her exit a car that wasn’t hers parked in her spot. At least her car was getting fixed. But he imagined she had another busy Friday and Saturday. He wished he could have helped more. Wished he didn’t mess up and revealed that he messed it up in a way he couldn’t fix it.

The moment the orders slowed, Harry was planning to race up her steps and beg for forgiveness.

“Dolcezza Ristorante. How can—whoa. Okay, okay!" Niall pulled the restaurant phone from his ear and shoved it at Harry. He could hear the shouting before he even brought the phone near his ear.

“Hel—”

“Harry! For the love of GOD! Do you never look at your phone!?”

“I’ve been—” He barely got a syllable out before Eleanor was spewing a stream of words that were somehow one sentence. Or maybe it was five sentences. Harry lost track of nearly everything, only understanding the gravity that came from the sound of her shrieking. She only made out a scattering of the important words. His eyes widened as he processed her speech.

Harry dropped the empty dishes of finished food he was holding creating a massive mess. Everyone stopped and looked at him. “Harry?” Niall asked.

There was a breath of silence and frozenness. It was like the sizzle of the food in frying pans, the simmering of sauces in pots had all stopped making noise as well. Then he moved, running the few short steps to the kitchen door to the alleyway. “Call the police!” he shouted over his shoulder. He dropped the phone in the debris as well leaving Niall to fish it away from the broken glass and listen to Eleanor repeat the words she just said to Harry.

Harry was outside the back door and taking the steps upstairs two and three at a time. The door to her apartment was already open which made his stomach churn. Quickly and quietly, Harry hurried inside. The place was a mess. It was not her. If Harry hadn’t a more pressing purpose, he would have considered cleaning it up for her again, just to make her happy. All the pretty decorations and all her belongings that made it feel so homey, were overturned, or tipped over. Papers and pictures were across the floor. Like a student on their last day of school, throwing out all the papers from the year in the air like confetti. Harry felt his stomach twist again.

“Who are you?” A voice asked.

Harry turned slowly to the sound of the stranger. The one that had quietly wreaked havoc on her life for so long. Harry’s eyes dropped to the long strap of fabric in his hands. It almost looked like a tie, but it was thicker. Something that was intended to go over her eyes or wrap around her hands, he was sure. His eyes traveled back to the stranger’s face. There was something off about him. His eyes felt hollow. Like there was a misconnection between his brain and the rest of his body.

Harry hadn’t a clue what to do. But this had to be better than her trapped in the apartment with a lunatic.

“I work downstairs. We heard a commotion,” he lied, knowing Antonio added extra insulation and sound proofing to keep the sound of the restaurant out of the apartment. “Where is she?” He asked.

His answering smile was creepy—like he only learned how to smile recently. It was so discomforting Harry felt his stomach flip again with worry. His creepy smile paired with the emptiness of his eyes filling with a look of sick sense of delight made Harry’s skin crawl. It took everything in him to not have a physical reaction to his words. “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Don’t know how someone can hide in a small place like this.”

“You need t’leave,” Harry ignoring the words he said. If he didn’t process them, they wouldn’t mean anything. “Now.”

“I thought I lost her,” he ignored Harry. “Then Eleanor... she came to visit and posted that picture of her. You could see the takeout bag in the background. It was a matter of time. I don’t want to lose her again.”

The man was delusional. Harry could see that. But his heart quietly broke for Eleanor, knowing she would lose her mind if she found out she was the reason her best friend was found by this guy. He silently vowed he would keep that to himself for as long as humanly possible.

“Listen. If y’don’t leave. Y’lose her. For good. If y’leave,” he swallowed. It felt like a gulp of vinegar. “Y’might get t’see her again.”

“She likes games,” he remarked rewrapping the strip of fabric around his hand. “It was like a scavenger hunt trying to find her,” he explained. “This is just another game.”

Harry tried to discreetly look for her around the open space. There was no way she was in this open room. There was nowhere to hide. Not unless she was somehow inside her sofa or under the kitchen sink. But... she had to be somewhere. There was only one real way out of the apartment and there was no way she would get through the door and down the creaky steps without him knowing after he saw her exit the rental car.

The wrought iron fire escape wouldn’t fare her much better. He would be down in the alleyway before she reached the bottom. Escaping wasn’t an option. Harry cleared his throat trying to feign innocence and help. “Can I help y’look?”

He nodded easily. Having no clue that Harry wasn’t there for anything other than making sure there wasn’t a commotion because he worked downstairs. It was very clear that he was ill. It made him sick to think she had brushed him off for so long. Played that it wasn’t a big deal. It felt horrible. All of it. Harry’s bones felt like mush.

“I need to check the bedroom and the bathroom.” That much was obvious. He had ransacked her entire apartment.

A fifty percent chance of rain was strong enough for Harry to walk around with an umbrella. When he took tests in his algebra class almost fifteen years ago, narrowing his multiple-choice questions to two choices was the best thing he could manage when he struggled with a question. The coin-flip wins he had with Niall each time they had to vacuum the main room at Dolcezza had left him with an impressive 38-102 record that he was certain the coin was always favored on his behalf.

Right now, a fifty-fifty chance may as well have been the chance of getting struck by lightning or winning the lottery.

Harry had to pick correctly.

He did a quick mental inventory of the bathroom and bedroom. Hiding in the bathroom almost made more sense. The door could lock. But if it was locked, it might make him angry—it seemed almost too obvious of a choice. He would break the door down knowing she was in there. It would be bad. The small linen closet maybe could hide her, but he wasn’t certain. His mind sprinted through the furniture in the bedroom.

“I’ll check the bedroom,” he tried not to run in there suspiciously. He checked under the bed, relieved she wasn’t in there. The tall wardrobe he had helped anchor to the wall after she decided the bookshelf was firmly in place and she had visions of the wardrobe falling on her was also empty. The only real place left that could hide a person was the closet. If she wasn’t in there, Harry would cry.

There was nothing else he could do but open it and see if he was right. It was like he was ripping a band-aid off. He yanked the door out of the way.

Harry thought about the first time he met her, when he physically bumped into her. The first expression he ever saw on her face was one of pain from how she had fallen so hard on the ground. Then there was the night she was sick, and she looked physically broken, Harry wanted nothing more than to take that away from her with nothing more than minestrone soup. Their argument from a few days ago also induced a sad and broken expression on the beautiful face he was so in love with.

Nothing compared to the look of anguish in her eyes and her shaky lower lip right at that moment he found her frozen still in her closet. Her phone was clutched to her ear in both shaky hands. Eleanor undoubtedly at the other end whispering to her to keep calm. Harry had never felt anything like the warmth spreading through his whole body seeing her pretty being there, perfectly whole, and beautiful. Whether she was terrified or not.

The relief Harry felt seeing her before him almost knocked him to his knees before her. There was nothing he wanted more than to hold her, whisk her down the steps, bring her to the kitchen, and feed her as much garlic bread, eggplant parmigiana, and minestrone soup as her heart desired.

He had to get him out of here. He gazed at her for a moment longer, his mouth pursing into a frown and he closed his eyes. “She’s not here,” he said evenly and closed the closet just as quickly as he opened it. He headed back to the main room where he noted that he had in fact, torn apart her bathroom as well. He frowned dejectedly.

“She has to be here. It’s seven-thirty. She’s always home at seven-thirty. That’s when she watches Jeopardy.”

Harry thought he was going to throw up. Knowing her schedule wasn’t something he had fully processed. “Maybe she’s not here,” he suggested.

“No, her car is in her spot. She had to get a rental while her car is in the shop.”

Harry was certain he was going to throw up.

“Maybe she hit traffic,” he tried instead.

“She always leaves time for traffic.” Harry strongly considered just slamming his head into the wall. “You’re lying,” his voice wasn’t accusatory. It was factual. Somehow that was worse. His hands tightened on the length of fabric once more.

“What?” Harry shook his head trying to feign calmness. But his heart started to speed. His fingers started to feel numb.

“She’s in there,” he sounded... excited. Harry’s heart was hammering in his chest. “Honey,” he called almost gleefully and started for the bedroom.

She pressed her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Or vomiting. If she made a sound she was done for. Harry knew she was here. She knew Harry was there to protect her. Even after she pushed him away because he was the first person to show her what it was like to be cared for by someone else. Someone who didn’t take advantage of her kindness. Someone who wanted nothing more than to make her feel better when she was down.

She thought she was going to collapse on the floor of her closet when Harry yanked the door out of the way. She didn’t know if it was her stalker at the time. The weight that lifted seeing someone she knew... and someone she knew would help her, crushed her. Harry looked about as pained as she felt, and she didn’t know what to do or say so she simply stood there in shock and let Harry take care of her.

She’s not here. He said closing her back in the closet.

“Oh, thank God,” Eleanor whispered to her ear.

Eleanor had called Harry who knew how many times before she called the restaurant. Within seconds of switching back to her while she hid in the closet, listening to him ransack her living room. “He’s coming,” she promised. “Niall called the police,” her voice was so quiet. “I wanted to get back to you,” she explained. “I... I don’t want him to get away,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, babe,” she could hear Eleanor’s tears and she wanted nothing more than to comfort her, but she was still frozen like a block of ice.

Hearing Harry’s warm voice feign calmness made her melt. Watching the shadowy figure in her room made her want to scream but she was still stuck in place. Eleanor was whispering comforting things. Quietly begging to no one that Harry get to her first.

Her heart was beating so fast and there was sweat on her hairline. Her phone slid in her grip with the anxiety she felt causing her hands to sweat as well. She clutched the phone to her face even harder. Listening to his exchange with Harry and Eleanor’s quiet reassurances did nothing. She was so scared. She closed her eyes as if not seeing the inside of her dark closet would make it go away. Her body was thrumming with a heartbeat that seemed to appear in every inch of muscle. It made everything ache.

“She’s in there,” his voice was excited, and the tears found their way around her hand cupped over her mouth. With her eyes still closed, she could hear Eleanor whispering something, but she was too scared to process the meaning. “Honey!” He called. Like he was home from work, and this was normal. She heard him twist the doorknob to her bedroom.

She was going to be sick.

She inhaled to scream but instead, there was a commotion then. She imagined the soundproofing failed. It surely sounded like two adult men landed hard on the floor, the thud had to have transferred through and down to the restaurant. She was shaking. Every inch of her body. She could hear more of her belongings breaking and toppling hard on the ground. It felt like her lungs were shaking inside her ribcage with each quiet breath she had to take silently. She listened to the grunting and sound of punches landing.

It couldn’t have been more than a couple minutes, but it felt like hours.

The swears and grunting stopped. There wasn’t a sound. Then a door slammed shut. It sounded like the door to the little laundry room. “El,” she whispered soundlessly, her voice hardly loud enough to get the syllable out.

“I’m calling the police again,” she switched the line leaving her in silence. She knew it was the right thing to do, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to be left alone with someone entering the room.

“Principessa?” Harry’s voice was in the room.

She was frozen, terrified. What if it was a trap? He had gotten hold of Harry, had a knife to his throat or something equally disastrous. Her hand shook against her ear wishing Eleanor was back already. She couldn’t make sense of it.

“Kitten?” He tried again, his voice was gentle.

Her knees buckled.

“M’gonna open the door, my love,” he whispered softly.

The doorknob turned.

Finally, she had strength again. Her fight, flight, and frozen abilities finally shifted from frozen to fighting. She threw herself at him hoping to knock him off his feet and out of balance. She was so worried that it was still a trick. She was going to run downstairs and into the kitchen ruining the dinner rush, but it would well be worth it. She was too scared to process anything that was happening and she threw her bodyweight at him and threw her fists at him as best she could.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Harry gently cooed, grabbing her wrists as she tried to wrangle herself away from him now that she had thrown him off balance. “Hey, hey, Principessa,” she continued squirming and throwing weak punches at him while still terrified. She was grateful she wasn’t so scared that she couldn’t fight back after all.

Despite everything, he was so proud of her for not giving up. Even if the danger was completely gone just yet. “Hey, s’okay, now, Principessa, m’here,” he promised and gave her wrists a soft squeeze. She finally stopped, going limp in his arms as she realized she was attacking Harry and not her stalker. Harry gave her a forced smile. Mixed with a grimace. “You’re okay, kitten. M’here,” he repeated cupping the side of her face so he could lock his gaze with hers. See that it was alright, that she was safe now.

She broke.

It was a miracle she could still stand but she probably had Harry to thank for that. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered her eyes flooding with tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen,” she sniveled covering her face now that Harry had released her. “I thought I could... I thought I could handle it. Handle it all...” she hiccupped. “But I can’t. I can’t do it anymore. I was so scared, Harry,” she whimpered. Harry knew his face wasn’t holding neutral or positive. He felt as broken as she sounded. “I’ve been tired and scared for so long and there’s been no one—” her sob choked her words.

Harry thought his heart was going to split right in the middle. If it did, he wanted to give her half of it just to make her whole again. Just to make the pain stop. He tucked her head beneath his chin and wrapped his arms around her tightly. “Oh, Principessa,” he cooed. “M’here,” he promised kissing the top of her head and soothingly rubbing his hand up and down her spine. “M’here.”

“I—” She tried to speak but the tears and emotions coursing through her stopped her vocal cords again.

“Shh, my love, shh,” he cupped the side of her face against her chest. His thumb stroked her damp cheek, and he kissed her hairline again. “M’here,” he repeated the promise. She was overwhelmed by how warm Harry was. His arm wrapped around her waist holding her tight against him. It was the first time she felt safe in hours... weeks if she was honest with herself. Harry held her silently, letting the tears and shaky sobs subside as her body shook against him. It made his chest tight with anxiety. To think she had been holding in all those emotions for so long just so others wouldn’t worry about her. “M’always going t’worry ‘bout you, kitten. Danger or no danger,” he promised.

She sniffled and pulled away from his embrace so she could wipe her hand on her cheek and Harry smudged his thumb across her other cheek brushing the tears away. Harry was scanning her face making sure he got each salty drop and every tear track off her face. As he did, she couldn’t stop staring at his concentrated expression. “I think I love you,” she whispered.

It was as if someone had put a defibrillator on his chest and shocked him. It felt like his heart was beating twice as much and he could hardly breathe as she whispered those perfect, beautiful, sweet words. His thumb stopped smoothing over her skin. His gaze dropped to her eyes again, as she looked at him, her breath shaky and she sniffled again shaking her whole body again. He started to laugh. Despite the situation, despite the worry, despite everything that was going to happen as the impending sirens got closer and closer to them. “I know I love you, Principessa,” he tilted her head up beneath her chin.

He did know. He loved her so much. It was overwhelming. The moment he laid eyes on her. The moment he touched her arms and helped her to her feet. When he had carried her things to her apartment. When she played with Leo. When she was sick. Each time she helped in the kitchen. Or when she bought him the book that he looked at for thirty seconds longer than all the rest. Every single second of knowing her, he fell more and more in love with her.

“Even though—”

He shook his head, rubbed his thumb on her lip to silence her. “I love you,” he said simply. The red and blue lights illuminated her apartment, and she heard more scary thuds ascending the staircase. “Nothing else.” She sank into his embrace and allowed herself to let go. Let someone else take care of things for a few moments.

The police were thorough. They stationed someone outside the building. Harry didn’t let go of her hand and wouldn’t let her leave his side. He was insistent she stay in the bedroom as they entered. They took pictures of everything in her place and Harry stood conveniently in front of the bedroom entryway while they brought her stalker outside. Harry assured Eleanor that she was okay while she cried against him. She would call back in a bit, but they had stuff to deal with.

“Thank you,” he croaked gratefully. The thankfulness he felt for Eleanor was so immense.

“Yeah, same to you,” she sniffled. “Don’t forget to call me,” she said seriously despite the sadness in her voice.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he promised. The police asked about a thousand questions which was exhausting in its own right. Niall finally rushed up, seeing the police bringing the guy down and he nearly got himself arrested for being so swift.

“He’s okay,” she promised with a shaky voice. They let Niall enter, who immediately gave her a huge, awkward hug because Harry wouldn’t let go of one of her hands.

“The whole restaurant is in limbo worried about you. All the regulars are worried about you,” he sighed. “I had to come up,” he explained sheepishly.

“I’m sorry—”

“Oh my God,” Harry shook his head and Niall kissed the side of her head.

“Tesorino,” he chuckled. “It’s so okay.”

“But Harry’s not—”

“Harry needs to be up here with you,” he promised. “The restaurant is very understanding,” he explained. “This isn’t something to worry about, Tesorino,” his tone was so reassuring. “M’gonna go back down and spread the good news,” he smiled. “In the morning, we’ll have breakfast, yeah?” He asked glancing at Harry briefly. He nodded quickly. She wasn’t leaving his side and she certainly wasn’t spending the night without him

She nodded with another smile. “Please.”

“I’ll cook this time,” he winked and squeezed her one more time before heading back down.

With the open door to her place, she couldn’t mistake the thundering applause the erupted from the restaurant below her. It made her tears begin to flow again. After several more questions, an EMT scanning her for any sort of damage and repeating her statement at least two more times with the help of Harry, she thought they were finally done.

“Hey!” One of the officers shouted. Harry looked the most alarmed and shoved her protectively behind him as the sound of thundering footsteps echoing up the stairs once more.

“Where is she?!” He sounded like he was going to cry.

“James?” She whispered, pushing herself from behind Harry.

“Oh, thank God,” he strode across the room, stepping on overturned debris and even though she was older than him, he lifted her off the ground. But that’s when the tears started. “Jesus Christ, Sis, why didn’t you tell me?!” He croaked. She blinked in surprise holding onto him as he crushed her to his body. Her lips parted in shock. She glanced at Harry who smirked at her with a touch of sadness in his eyes.

However, there was more commotion downstairs. “I’m her mother!” She could hear the anguish and felt it in every inch of her body.

“Oh my God,” she whispered beside James’ ear and looked up at Harry once more.

“I got it,” Harry pressed his hand on her back. Her feet were back on the floor, but James still didn’t let go. Harry quickly looked down the steps to assess the new guests. “Y’can let them up. S’her family.”

Emma looked practically animalistic, flying up the stairs, almost on all fours with the speed she took the steps. She made it to the doorway—nearly shoving Harry out of the way and all but crawling across the floor with the momentum she had built up making her way up the steps. She flung herself at her siblings wiggling herself between James who still had not let go of his older sister for a moment. “How could you?!” Emma sobbed, muffled, and squished between her brother and sister.

“Oh, my,” she whispered. “Em, I’m—”

“Don’t you dare say you’re okay,” she hissed but remained clinging to her.

Her parents soon joined their hug asking a thousand questions that she was simply too exhausted to answer. “You don’t want to get in on this?” She asked with a watery voice. Her words floated over Emma and James who refused to let go of each side of her after a kiss on the top of her head from both her parents. Ethan was last in the room, he stood idly near them. He smirked at her question.

“Want my own hug, beautiful,” he winked. Harry snorted, ignoring the jealousy running through him because he believed Ethan was probably way more worked up than he was letting on for the sake of looking like a normal person. She felt her face warm and glanced at Harry who was smirking. “You gave us all the scare of a lifetime.”

Harry was asked to relay the story to her parents, which he did so gratefully. The shock and hurt they had on their faces realizing this was the first they knew of someone stalking their baby.

“Ethan had to drive,�� Emma sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve as she finally pulled away from the embrace. James didn’t want to let go, it seemed. He stood so close to her, his arm touching her. Like he was pressing into her side.

“Sounds like you all had scarier things to deal with,” she looked at Ethan who scooped her up again lifting her off the ground the same way James had. He kissed the side of her head, and she squeezed him back. Ethan wrapped her in his embrace when he whispered something in her ear with a smile. Almost immediately, she pulled from him and punched his arm. “You always ruin something nice.”

“Sweetie, that is not funny,” her mom said tearfully turning her attention to Harry. “Thank you,” she said seriously.

She giggled, making Harry’s heart sing now that he wasn’t as worried. “It’s kind of funny.”

James hadn’t moved from her side, looking at her in awe. His oldest sister was his hero. This hurt him so much. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked.

“James,” she sighed.

“No! Why didn’t you tell me? I would have—”

“There was nothing you could do, James,” she whispered. His lower lip wobbled, and his eyes filled with tears. He looked at the floor. She knew he was upset, obviously.

“One of the people at my internship, said your name out loud. I read the transcript it was Eleanor... I... I didn’t know this address. I had to look up the restaurant. I...”

“Jamie,” she hadn’t used that name since they were young. James had been James since he started kindergarten. She reached out for him again, tugged him toward her. “I’m okay,” she promised. “It’s okay,” she said soothingly, rubbing her hand up and down his back and tucked him into her embrace, holding the back of his neck as he shook with sobs.

It broke Harry’s heart knowing she was comforting her family over something that happened to her. But maybe it helped. Distracted her for the moment until she was able to deal with this. Harry wasn’t letting her go the second they left. He would comfort her the way she deserved as soon as they were gone.

Harry’s phone vibrated in his pocket. It was Eleanor. He said hello, flipped the camera around, and showed off the room. “Jeez, you let Ethan and James throw a party?” Her voice cut through all the comfort and tears.

“I resent that, Eleanor,” Ethan rolled his eyes.

“How are you doing, babe?” She asked with a smirk, seeing her holding James like he was her little brother again and not a foot and some taller than her.

She was still holding James who refused to remove his face from her neck. “I’m good,” she promised. “Thank you.”

“It was a team effort,” Eleanor smiled. “Think Harry deserves the biggest of thanks,” she said knowingly.

She nodded against James’ hold and looked over to Harry. “Mmm,” she hummed. “I think so too.”

Her family stayed in her apartment. They were insistent. Now that the pictures were taken, they were going to clean it up. All five of them. “Dibs on the underwear drawer!” Ethan said excitedly.

“You’re disgusting,” her dad grumbled.

“Can you arrest him too?” She turned to the police officer with an eye roll.

He pouted and the officer chuckled. “A guy can hope,” he shrugged helping James with the kitchen. Her mom helped her pack a bag for Harry’s, telling her how nice her place was. Even ransacked. It smelled delicious. Her dad was impressed with how the furniture was anchored to the wall and when told it was Harry’s doing, he thanked him once more for caring about his eldest.

Niall made a second trip up with a box of food for everyone to eat. Everyone sat and ate, moaning about how good everything tasted amidst the messy overturned furniture, broken glass from picture frames, and other decorative things. No one minded. Emma sat next to her as well as James who refused to let his gaze move from her.

“I’m okay,” she murmured to both. She kissed the top of Emma’s head and patted James’ knee. He shook his head holding his phone up to show him all the texts from his girlfriend.

I know you’re busy, but please keep me updated. I’ve never met her but I’m also super worried.

She frowned look at James with watery eyes. “I love her already,” she promised.

There was a lot of logistics to figure out. Her mom said they planned on leaving early in the morning to get belongings back home before returning to a hotel nearby so they could help with whatever she needed for the next couple days. “You’ll stay at Harry’s for a few days?” She asked, glancing at Harry.

“Yes,” he said before she could brush it off. “M’not...” he smirked and looked at his lap. “Don’t want her out of m’sight,” he admitted.

“Good,” everyone nodded in agreement.

“You don’t need to stay,” she assured them. “It’s really okay now.”

“Forgive me, but I have a hard time believing you now,” her mom made the same angry face that she always made. A crease between her eyebrows, a frown on the corners of her mouth.

“I know that you just went through something scary,” Emma began. “But do you think—”

“Jesus Christ, Emma!” James nearly shouted.

“Let me finish!”

“You’re such a selfish brat! You’re probably the reason she didn’t tell us with all your essays and—”

“Children—” her mother started.

“ME? You’re the one she’s been buying groceries for because you spend your money before it reaches your bank account—"

“You two knock it off!” Her dad shouted. Ethan snickered and shook his head chomping on the garlic bread that Harry honestly wanted to yank out of his hand so there was more for her to eat. She smirked and turned to Emma, her back to James, which Harry was sure felt like a slap in the face to him.

“What do you need, Em?” Harry kind of wanted to yell at Emma too for asking for something. But he waited because obviously the sweet girl knew her sister better and clearly sensed something kind at the end of her request.

“Could we make cookies together, tomorrow?” She asked, looking like the little girl that broke her arm and she had to comfort for a whole car ride.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “I’d like that,” she promised. “You two will have to help too,” she said looking at James and Ethan. James was scowling at Emma’s satisfied smile of being right.

Ethan smirked. “Would love to see you in an apron, beautiful.”

Harry drove her back to his place before the restaurant closed. Niall said he would hang back for longer to give them time to get settled peacefully. Harry refused to let go of her hand. It was almost eleven thirty when they parked in his driveway. The exhaustion was so heavy it was a miracle she could stand. But Harry was probably to thank for that.

There wasn’t much talking in the car, but she was glad to hold his hand. She knew they had lots to discuss but she was tired. Harry was surely tired too. He grabbed her bag. “Do you think Ethan and James should sleep in the living room?” She asked suddenly as Harry unlocked the front door. Harry could see her mind spinning rapidly. It was like she was awake again, caught a second wind from the spiral in her own mind. “Just in case? I don’t want something to happen to Emma or my mom. Oh, I’ll have to fix Antonio’s office tomorrow. Oh... oh we didn’t tell Antonio—”

“Principessa,” Harry ushered her inside and dropped her bag on the living room floor. In the same movement, he cupped her face, and looked her squarely in the eyes. He pressed his thumb on her lips, silencing her. At once, her eyes softened. The forehead crease disappeared. Harry thought this was better than winning an award just to see her relief coat her face thanks to his gentle encouragment. “S’okay,” he promised and kissed the tip of her nose. “We’re not worrying about anything else for tonight.”

“But... I feel really bad!” she pouted below his thumb making a rush of electricity throw through him where his thumb touched her lips. “I know I hurt your feelings and I wanted to talk—”

“Kitten,” he shook his head. “Not tonight,” he promised. “Y’went through something really scary—”

“So did you!”

“—and s’far as m’concerned, you are a hundred percent forgiven. M’glad you’re alright. We can discuss anything y’want in the morning,” he promised. “But we’re not worrying ‘bout anything but kissing and sleeping tonight,” his voice was so serious, and it made her flush that pink color Harry worried she wouldn’t show him after their argument. It felt like ages since he had seen it when realistically it hadn’t been more than two days.

“Well, can we worry about the shower or something? I feel like I smell terrible, and I need to get this night off me,” she wrinkled her nose cutely.

“I think y’smell good,” he chuckled tucking his face into her neck and pecking at her skin. “Can y’even stand long enough for a shower?”

“I’m not getting in your bed all sweaty and gross,” she yawned. “I’ll sleep in the shower if that’s the case.”

He smiled. “Whatever y’say, my love.”

Harry gave her a head start on the shower and texted Antonio a brief update just in case he felt better tomorrow and made it in. After a few questions and a couple more reassurances that everything was okay, Harry finally told him about the most annoying part. I’ll clean up the office... he sent a row of eye-rolling emojis as well. Followed by the vexing part. She’s worried that it’s her fault and wants to assure you it will be clean.

Harry was surprised he was awake, but maybe the kids were keeping him up with whatever illness they were feeling. Tell her to shut up and she better not or I’ll never let her have garlic bread from the kitchen ever again.

Harry smiled, stripped his clothes off, and stepped into the warm steam along with her to get the grime from the day off. “I love you,” he reminded her.

She smiled. “I love you too,” she said sweetly. He cupped her damp face, brushing the suds from her shampoo away from her eyes and he kissed her so deeply and warmly, it felt like he was putting her back together with just a kiss.

Harry slipped on a pair of boxers and grabbed her bag to put in his room. She sat in just a large T-shirt she had left behind and a pair of his boxers as well on the edge of his bed. Harry brushed her hair for her and put lotion all over her body massaging the back of her legs and kissing her softly once he finished. As soon as her hair was brushed and toweled dried enough that she felt comfortable laying on his bed with damp hair, she slunk into his mattress and pillows with a long, heavy sigh. Harry immediately followed suit and wrapped his body around her. He kissed the back of her head and sighed in complete happiness.

His phone pinged with a text from Niall, stretching away from her long enough to find out he was pulling down the road. He knew that Niall did so that Harry wasn’t alarmed when the light from his headlights slid over the room and made him worried when someone entered the home. He still clutched her closer as he heard Niall shuffle right by his door, still nervous. But, somehow, she was nearly snoring already.

“Principessa,” he hummed.

“Hmm?” He wasn’t sure she was even a quarter awake. Maybe it was reflex to answer.

“I love you,” he kissed the back of her head. “So much,” he murmured.

She twisted awkwardly, exhaustedly, to face him. Harry draped his arm around the front of her pulling her closer to him despite the fact she could kiss the space between his collarbone if she wanted to. Beneath the covers she curled the arm closest to the mattress against his chest and the other held onto his hard hip. Harry pressed his lips to her forehead. Holding her in place and enjoying the feel of her soft skin below his lips. “I love you too,” she answered.

“Principessa,” he whispered. “I know y’need t’sleep. M’sorry. I really need t’say this,” he brought his hand back to her face and stroked his thumb against her cheek. She almost perked up completely, like she was fully awake. Harry felt a pang of worry course through him. She was so ready to give anything and everything of herself just for him. Probably for anyone. He imagined if James or Emma called right then asking for her to come back, she would. “You don’t bother me,” his voice was quiet, but deep. It made her whole body ache to hear him say it. “Ever. I was going to come up and apologize during dinner,” he admitted.

“Oh,” she giggled every so lightly. “I was going to go down and do the same,” she responded.

He chuckled and felt relief flow through him. “Really?” She nodded against his body.

“I won’t push you away... or I won’t like that. It’s going to take some time but... I really want to be better about accepting you being there for me. I really want that. I promise. I’m so sorry, I yelled at you,” she whispered.

“S’okay, kitten. I know... I know s’not easy,” he kissed between her eyebrows and rid herself of the pinch. “You’re forgiven. M’gonna help y’no matter what. No matter how much y’might not want me to,” he chuckled softly again.

“That’s...the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said or done for me,” she nosed at his chest sighing contentedly getting ready to fall asleep wrapped in Harry’s warm embrace.

It was perfect. She was so grateful for that little apartment. That perfect restaurant. Everything. “Sweetest, Principessa?” he repeated tiredness coating his voice, but he could talk to her for hours and hours tomorrow. But for now, he wanted her to know before she fell asleep. “For you, la mia dolcezza, y’deserve all the sweetness and more.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lolyouallsuck @buckybarnessimpp @stylesfever @harrysxcarolina @haarrrys @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus

Dolcezza: @matildasatellite @crossyourpeter @lovingfurypanda @sideboobrry11 @theresnooneheretosave @emmaawbr @hermionelove @12yeahiminluvwu @cohnfusedarling

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if I put you on the wrong list, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #dolcezza

181 notes · View notes

leeknowlover99 · 6 months

Text

Jake drabble - Prove it then

masterlist

word count: 2,2k

friends to lovers if you squint

warnings: smut, blowjob, drinking, smoking, swearing, dirty talk

„fuck” you yelled angrily propping yourself up on your knees and trying to catch a breath. yellow bus just drove away 5 minutes earlier than it was scheduled. „motherfucker!!!” you yelled and kicked nearest object you found - trash can filled to the brim with empty cans and bottles became your victim. few bottles fell out of it and rolled on the pavement with loud clinking. it was the last bus that could take you to the small town where you were renting your apartment. dang, only if your tinder date did not try to kiss you maybe you’d make it. the guy was tragic, he kept talking about himself all evening, split the bill and awkwardly tried to kiss you after all that. and now you were stuck in the city. first morning bus was leaving at 5 am so you still had few hours to pass around. you were already feeling a bit sleepy, probably after all that boring stories your date told you. your feet were starting to hurt a bit as you made a stupid mistake of wearing platform heels today, trying to impress this idiot guy. god, what was happening with you?? your life was a mess lately. but now all you knew was you have to find a place to crash somewhere till 5 am. think Y/N, think you told yourself. you could go to a club or a bar, it was saturday night so most places would be open and busy but you weren’t in the mood. normally you would crash at your best friends flat but her parents were visiting her this weekend so it was a no go. it looked like you only had one option left, you opened chat with Jake and typed:

are you in town? i need a place to crash, missed the last bus :((

three dots appeared immediately. thank god he was awake, you just hoped he was not at some party as it was his usual weekend routine. text appeared:

hello

you can come over if you want ;)

typical Jake, always flirty for no reason. you rolled your eyes and texted him back.

omw then, thanks

your relation with Jake was undefined, you weren’t close enough to be called friends but you knew each other quite well. you used to hang out more often but sometimes things got weird between you. tension was always there but you don’t think there was more and neither of you wanted to make a move. sometimes you wondered what it would be like. to kiss his pretty lips, feel his hot body pressing against you or wake up next to him and cuddle all day. but usually you quickly dismissed these images from your head. however they kept coming back as you made your way to his place. fortunately he lived only two crossing from the bus stop so you arrived quickly before your mind drifted to far.

you knocked on his doors impatiently, you got a bit cold on the way and could not wait to warm up. he opened and leaned against the doorframe lazily. he was wearing home attire - loose grey sweats and tank top, his muscular arms peeking from tight material. he must’ve just taken the shower as his hair was dump and slicked back. damn he was hot. you realised you were staring but when you snapped back to reality you noticed he was staring too. after all, you did make an effort to look good today, did your make up and wore your favourite black dress. he whistled looking you up and down.

“will you let me in ?” you huffed.

“sorry, was wondering why are you here when it looks like you clearly had other plans for the night” he smirked and let you in.

“please don’t make me more miserable than i already am” you sighed.

Jake invited you to his room and you immediately made your way to his bed. finally your feet could rest, you rolled your toes feeling relief after spending all evening in those platforms. Jake followed you to his room after a minute carrying two beers from the kitchen.

“hey, outside clothes are not allowed on the bed” he grabbed your hand to lift you up.

you looked at him annoyed. he was not making it easy for you today.

“if you want me to strip so bad just ask” you teased getting up.

he raised his eyebrow in response.

“cocky are you? you must’ve really have a bad evening. want a smoke?” he fished out a pack of marlboros from his pocket.

“why not”

you grabbed a fluffy blanket and sat on the garden chair slowly sipping beer and smoking. Jake lived on 4th floor so view from the balcony was quite nice. you enjoyed watching the small crescent moon and few stars that were visible above you.

“i thought you quit” he said pulling you out of your thoughts. at first you didn’t get that he was referring to smoking and you frowned at him. he gestured to your hand, cigarette resting between your fingers.

“oh, yeah i did. guess you’re the bad influence” you joked.

“i don’t think it is me sweetheart.” there he was with the flirty nicknames. but he was right, it was not him. it was you who was lost and continued to make one bad decision after another.

“yeah, i just have a tough time lately” you said not looking at him. “can i have another one?” you said putting out your current cigarette.

“lucky for you, it was the last one” he winked at you showing you empty package. “so did your date went bad or what?” he asked.

“yeah. he was a jerk. like all of the guys apparently” you rolled your eyes.

“can i share my opinion?” he stood up in front of you.

“if you have to.”

“i think it’s because you’re always choosing assholes while there are much better guys out there.” he said confidently looking at you.

“oh really? guys like who? you?” you stood up and met his gaze. he was being annoyingly cocky.

“maybe” he licked his lips. he was the opposite of a good guy actually. but he was the tempting one.

you grabbed him by the collar of his tank top and yanked towards you. your faces were centimeters away now. you were so close you felt his breath quickened. after looking into his dark eyes you flicked your eyes towards his lips and back up.

“don’t start something you can’t finish Y/N” he warned, you were still holding his tank top.

“who sad I cannot finish it?” you asked tilting your head slightly and after that you let go of him and turned around to go back inside.

“i’m going to take a shower now”. you were taking a step into the bedroom when Jake grabbed your forearm and forced you to turn around, you bumped into him slightly and your heart started beating faster as you saw his dark eyes piercing you.

“prove it then. prove what you just said” his voice was quiet but cold and demanding, sending shivers down your spine. blanket was long gone from your shoulders pooling on the floor and cold air was brushing against your exposed body but your skin was burning. thousands thoughts rolled through your head trying to decide whether to take this step or not. blame it on the alcohol or the haze from smoking after such a long time but there was only one winning voice and it told you do it.

you crashed your lips against his with a force. he seemed shocked for good few seconds as he was not kissing you back. just when you were about to pull out you felt his hot fingers grab your neck and his lips roughly moved against yours. there was nothing gentle or pure about the way you were making out. tongues dancing together, jake biting your lower lip from time to time. one of your hands was grabbing and pulling on his hair while other was holding his biceps, god his body was amazing, hot and hard under you fingers, your hand feeling small next to his arm. jake was not wasting time either, he acted like man starved, exploring your waist and grabbing your ass, soon his fingers started to wonder under your skimpy dress as he pressed you against the balcony railing, you felt his hard on against your stomach and it made you weak in your knees, good thing he was holding you tight. his fingers teased your inner thighs and slowly moved towards your panties.

“fuck, you’re so wet” he hissed against your lips when he made contact with your clothed core, his fingers feeling your entrance through the thin material. you could not hold a quite moan and burried your face in jake’s neck as his started playing with your clit. you nipped at his skin lightly. he started to move your panties to the side, you grabbed his hand and looked at him wide eyes, damn he looked hot, lips plump from all the kissing, pupils dilated and breath fast. “jake, not outside” you managed to say. he grinned smugly in response.

“oh yeah? why not? are you embarrassed someone is going to see?” he asked grabbing your neck and choking you slightly.

you decided to pull a move to distract him and leaned to whisper in his ear “want your cock so bad daddy” he stiffened and raised his eyebrow at you. “fucking get inside now” he gritted through his teeth. looks like you little stunt did work perfectly.

you stumbled towards the bed together and messily landed on the soft mattress. you climbed on jakes lap and nagged at him to take off his tank top. it revealed mouthwatering sight of his abs and v line disappearing where waistband of his sweats hang low. you pressed open mouth kisses and sucked on his neck as you moved slowly down his body. he threw his head back and groaned. “baby hurry, i want to feel you” he panted after a while of your teasing. you finally got him what he needed and palmed his hard dick, it was painfully big in your hand. “impatient are we?” you tsked at him. “for you always”. you took off his sweats and boxers and kneeled to kiss the red swollen tip of his dick. it looked delicious and tasted a little salty. you gave it a good suck before starting to move your head up and down. “fuck baby you’re so good” he grunted as you sped up, drool starting to drip down your chin and eyes watering. he made a ponytail of you hair and helped you move faster and take him deeper. few more moves and he yanked you off his cock. “i’m gonna cum if you don’t stop” he explained and moved on top of you “god this dress needs to go” he undressed you and you could see his gaze became even darker when he saw you fully naked underneath him. “god you have no idea how hard i wanted this” he whispered sucking on your hard nipples and fondling with your breast. he surprised you with that statement but you did not have time to think about it as you felt yourself become even wetter and your cunt clenching around nothing. “ jake need more please” you begged. he shout you up with a kiss. his dick grinding against your wet core made you gasped in his lips. “will you take it without a prep?” he asked sucking on your neck and putting light pressure on your entrance with his tip. he was making you crazy. your whole body was on fire, you were leaning towards his touch, craving it. “please” you moaned. “good girl” he praised and thrusted in you. it was quite a stretch because he was so big but you liked the burn and after few shallow thrusts it went away and pleasure replaced it. he was deliciously thick and warm. you nagged at him to move faster and he stopped holding back, thrusting roughly and picking up a pace. he was hitting your soft spot perfectly, you orgasm was building up. “god you’re so perfect” jake was completely lost muttering praises, his face burried in your neck. “jake i’m close” you said and lifted your legs to place them on his shoulders, new angle making him go deeper and your pussy clench harder. “you’re so hot, i’m gonna cum soon too” he said as his eyes followed your moving tits. you reached your hand down to circle your clit and moaned at how sensitive you were. it felt too good, jakes hot sweaty body on you, his thick cock massaging your wet walls, your orgasm came suddenly and made you whine loudly, pleasure rolling through your body, you arched your back slowly coming down from your high. jake was still thrusting roughly. “ can i come inside?” he asked kissing you messily as you lowered your legs to cross them around his waist. “yes i’m on a pill, please come inside jake” you coaxed him and seconds later he filled you with his cum. he kissed you passionately, soft lips moving together, tongues lazily meeting, his dick was still inside. “god that was amazing” he smiled at you. “so did i prove it to you?” you teased. “i might need a seconded try” he made a thinking face and you smacked his arm laughing. “care to join me in the shower?” you asked

#enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen drabbles #enhypen smut #enhypen jake #jake smut #jake drabble #enhypen hard thoughts #jake hard thoughts #enhypen suggestive

189 notes · View notes

navstuffs · 29 days

Text

Tag, you are on it!

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader

Summary: Miguel finds you and Gabriella playing on the backyard. Based on the comic Tag - Pixie and Brutus by @pet_foolery

Warning tags: domestic bliss, fluff, happiness, feel good type, my bad attempt on writing comedy lol

Author's Notes: after being obsessed with this man over a year, i finally joined the fandom (its never too late i guess). hope you enjoy your reading!

Miguel arrives home exhausted from work, taking off his coat and loosening his tie. What an awful day! Between deadlines not being respected and useless meetings taking far too long, Miguel had to stay late to finish a sudden important project. He was fortunate enough to have you pick Gabriella up from school.

You met Gabriella after five months of dating Miguel(and almost two years of knowing each other). "A friend," Miguel explained the first time you met, nervous about his little girl's reaction—a sentiment you also shared, way more desperate for her approval.

Everything went so well; even Miguel felt a little jealous of you, watching his daughter gravitate in your personal space the entire night. Especially when, before you left, he noticed Gabriella waving so you could kneel on her level. She covered your ears with her small hands, whispering as you nodded. Miguel observed quite anxiously, his eyes focused on any reaction. You just opened an enigmatic smirk as if you were teasing him that you could win his daughter so quickly.

Three months after this, Gabriella suddenly asked on a Saturday morning why you hadn't moved in yet, almost causing Miguel to drop the breakfast plate with scrambled eggs he had prepared. You and Miguel tried to explain that you still haven't talked about it yet, and adults can be complicated sometimes.

Besides being Gabriella's new favorite play partner, Miguel hadn't tried to insert you into their daily routine. Not because he didn't trust you, just...Miguel just had to take things slower. His main priority would always be Gabriella, her well-being and happiness. Inserting you into their routine would make it hard for both if you and him didn't work out. And you agreed, understanding as you always were: Gabriella should always be the top priority.

As it happened on one of your previous dates when the nanny called, informing Gabriella had gotten a sudden fever and had puked once. You urged Miguel to leave, telling him you would solve everything at the restaurant. Miguel was so surprised when you appeared in the house thirty minutes late, still dressed in your date clothes, with anxious eyes on the little girl in his arms. You stayed that night, ensuring to leave only after Gabriella's fever got down as she slept in your arms - when she heard your voice, she opened her arms begging for you to hold her.

Gabriella was already too attached, and Miguel was too much in love. That's why he was still unsure when he asked you to pick her up.

When Miguel hears Gabriella's giggle from the backyard, his heart instantly warms. Your capacity to make her laugh made him jealous before. Now, it only makes him fall in love with you even harder. To think there was ever a time Miguel was terrified of what would happen if Gabriella didn't like you.

He follows his favorite sound in the world, his body relaxing. You two seem to be playing tag: Gabriella never seems to catch you, but she doesn't seem to mind just having fun as you run away in the middle of his vast backyard, both barefoot. Miguel slowly joins his daughter, kneeling on her side as she hugs him tightly, all sweaty. "Papi! We are playing a tag game."

"I noticed."

"I don't seem to be able to tag back, though," Gabriella replies, confused in her innocence. As if she could with her small legs. You are still turned around from them, probably catching your breath, unaware of Miguel's presence yet. An idea pops on his mind.

"Tag me."

"What?"

"Tag me." Miguel offers his hand, opening a smile. Gabriella opens a big grin, tagging him.

"So, have you given up, Gabi?" You, still in the middle of the backyard, turn around with a playful smile. It completely disappears from your face as you watch Gabriella tag Miguel instead, your boyfriend slowly raising. A dangerous smile on his lips warning you to run.

You only have one second to react, too slow already, as Miguel starts sprinting in your direction as Gabriella encourages him, excited. Your lungs complain as you run away from him, feeling Miguel hot at your heels. It is the only time you will probably curse his long and strong legs.

You give a quick look over your shoulder, panicking. Miguel has that intense, wild look in his eyes, the one you see when he is determined to get what he wants: to get you. You ignore how your body feels and wonder if you shouldn't just jump in the pool (what a joke, Miguel was a great swimmer as well).

"Behind you." It is the last thing you hear before Miguel pounces on you, managing to do it gently to a round of cheers from Gabriella.

You both fall to the floor, and Miguel turns you around with a frown. "Were you going to jump in the pool?"

"Who, me? Nooo. So you could swim and catch me?!"

"Liar! You were about to jump in the pool!"

"As a distraction, only! You would have jumped straight after me anyway."

"Oh, I would have." He is serious, you know that.

With his body thoroughly pressed against yours, you hug him, "Missed you. How was work?"

“Terrible. As always.”

"As always." You agree, watching his expression change. Miguel suddenly becomes aware of how your body is pressed against his, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. He tries to get away from you, but you don't let him, your arms locking him down, a malicious smile on your face.

"Don't…"

"I am not doing anything."

"Not in front of-"

"Miguel, I am not doing anything!" You giggle, the sensation of a victory spreading against your chest. "You know, I wouldn't do anything in front of-"

You both look toward where Gabriela was standing before to find nothing there. Before you two can even untangle, Gabriella jumps on her father's back, startling you both.

"Tag!"

She immediately jumps away, giggling as she runs inside the house. Miguel sighs, not before your hand cups his cheek so you can look at him. "I will keep her company. It is fine."

"I don't want to impose-"

"Miguel, it is not an imposition. She likes me better anyway."

Miguel gets up from the floor, helping you stand as you watch Gabriella hide behind the sofa, her messy hair and eyes peeking out.

"Are you going to…stay?" Miguel wonders, his tone soft.

"Of course I will. Maybe we can repeat this tag game after Gabriella is asleep?" You offer, bluntly teasing him. "With much less clothes."

You smirk, watching Miguel's mouth drop open. Gabriella calls your name again and you give him a peck on the cheek, before running away to her direction.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfics #miguel o'hara comedy #miguel o'hara fanfiction #writing for a new fandom when i can barely deal with tons of wips? WE HAVE IT

68 notes · View notes

slytherhys · 25 days

Text

Silver Linings & Raspberry Fortunes

Prompt: New Beginnings (week one) @elriel-month

A/N: HAPPY ELRIEL MONTH! 🌹🦇 I had so much fun writing this silly little AU and I hope you all enjoy it too!

You can also read this story on AO3!

If there was one thing everyone knew about Elain Archeron it was that she didn’t like being single. Her friends knew it, her sisters knew it, her therapist knew it – even her ex-boyfriend, who wasn’t the most perceptive person Elain knew, had callously pointed it out right before Elain kicked him out of her house. Truth be told, she had a serious case of abandonment issues with a side of middle-child syndrome and – because those weren’t enough – a deep fear that she’d never be loved the way she very much wanted to be loved. The fact most men she met were a disappointment was just the cherry on top of a very emotionally damaging cake.

Which explained why she had accepted to go on a date, at her sister’s insistence, with a man she had never met or seen before in her life.

At first glance, it had seemed like a great idea. Feyre clearly had great taste in men (read: Rhysand), her friends were some of the most interesting people Elain had ever met and the alternative had been staying at home watching crappy romcoms, eating salt & vinegar chips and wondering if maybe installing a new dating app would finally lead to her meeting the man of her dreams (even though it never did). Looking back, maybe even a night of getting texts from strange men who were entirely too comfortable asking about her sex life did seem like the better choice. Because Elain Archeron had officially been stood up – which, considering the dress she was wearing, was a damn shame.

Elain sighed again, earning herself a look from the bartender that definitely felt a little bit exasperated. She couldn’t even blame him considering she’d been nursing the same drink for the past 45 minutes (a martini because it sounded fancy) and she probably looked as dejected as she felt, which probably didn’t go well with the overall Saturday night vibes he definitely preferred.

Smiling weakly, Elain turned to stare at the door for a few seconds longer, wondering if instead of giving up and going home, she should just stay, have a drink in a too-dark bar where no one could see how hot she looked in her very expensive dress, under the hostile gaze of an entirely too attractive bartender. Because she was 25 and she was single and if she spent another night wallowing in self-pity, she would probably dye her hair a ridiculous colour in the name of adventure. And that couldn’t happen – no matter how many times she tried to bleach her hair it never looked any good.

And she was absolutely not staying for – Elain checked her phone – Lucien Vanserra and his stupid red hair and his stupid “nice manners”. The only reason she wasn’t calling her sister to complain about the audacity of it all was because it was past 9pm and Feyre and Rhys were most likely enjoying the only time of the day their son actually slept.

All in all, Elain’s night was pretty fucking miserable – and she couldn’t even drink her pain away since the martini alone had cost a ridiculous amount of money and Elain was supposed to be saving money in the name of being a responsible adult.

“Can I get you another drink?” A low, gravelly voice sounded from behind the bar and Elain startled as she looked up. Hazel eyes stared her down, darting between her and her untouched drink. If the bartender had been attractive from afar, Elain could barely think with him standing so close. A strong nose, high cheekbones and a lush mouth that twitched under her perusal. His dark hair was unruly, as if he had run his hands through it in the past five minutes, but somehow, he made it look hot. Elain blinked once, twice before her brain finally caught up, making her cheeks heat under his gaze.

“Uh,” was her eloquent reply. “No.” She said, though it sounded more like a question than an answer.

He raised an eyebrow, lips twitching again as he eyed her martini. Elain shifted in her seat. “Is there something wrong with the drink I made you?” He asked teasingly and Elain flinched. It probably wasn’t good for his ego that she hadn’t touched it yet, was it?

Elain sighed, trying not to buckle under the embarrassment of being called out. “I don’t like martinis.” She confessed, unable to look the man in the eye. She probably seemed like an idiot, looking completely out of place in her stupid dress and glancing longingly at the door waiting for a stupid ginger man. Mother, she didn’t even like gingers. What the fuck had she been thinking?

The bartender laughed – well, he huffed but it sent a sparkle of heat down her spine, so it might as well had been a full-on laugh. “Why didn’t you order something else, then?”

Now it was her time to chuckle. Bitterly though because it was embarrassing how hard she had tried for a man that hadn’t even bothered to show up. “I wanted to look sophisticated.” She shrugged as if it didn’t really bother her that her cheeks were aflame and that the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her life was looking at her as if she had lost her mind. She couldn’t even blame him – she probably had. “For my date.” She clarified at his confused face, as if that made it better.

The bartender frowned, eyeing her where she sat, and Elain felt heat lick up her body at his slow perusal. Even if she did feel like shit, it was a small victory that her boobs looked amazing – and that, apparently, the bartender thought so too.

“Who the fuck stood you up?” His midnight voice sent shivers down her spine, the incredulity in his question sending a jolt of satisfaction down her stomach.

Elain stood a little straighter, feeling encouraged in her own disbelief. “Can you believe it?” She asked, her voice sounding a bit shrill. If the bartender smiled at her outburst, Elain didn’t notice. “And now I’m sitting here alone at this stupid bar waiting for a date I didn’t even want, drinking something I don’t even like–”

“You could’ve ordered something else.” The bartender muttered.

Elain, however, was too focused on her own tirade to be silenced. “And it’s too dark in this room for people to even notice my dress and I spent so much fucking money on it.” Elain shook her head, feeling ridiculous. “I really shouldn’t have spent that much money on a dress.” She confessed in a sigh, looking up and blushing as she noticed the amusement written on the bartender’s face. He raised an eyebrow, and it was absurd the way her body reacted to that small movement. Feeling chagrined, Elain smiled weakly. “Hi, I’m Elain.”

“Azriel,” his lips twitched. “Owner of the Stupid Bar.”

Of course he was. Elain groaned, dropping her head into her hands in a rather melodramatic fashion. “I’m so sorry.” She said, covering her face with her hands. “I’m usually much nicer than this.”

Azriel chuckled, tilting his head as he eyed her. “You look pretty fucking nice from where I’m standing.” He said, and Elain’s brain nearly short-circuited at the oh so casual way he said it. However, before she could answer he was leaning down, strong arms folding across the bar, hazel eyes set on her. “What do you really want to drink?”

Elain smiled sheepishly, pushing her martini away. “I’m not a big drinker.” She said, loving the challenge in his eyes as he waited for her answer. As if he wanted to figure her out. The thought of it shouldn’t have pleased her nearly as much as it did. “But I like sweet things.”

Azriel squinted his eyes ever so slightly, closely watching her expression. Elain wasn’t sure what he found, but her heart tripped inside her chest when he started to smirk. “I’m not sure you do, Elain.” He mumbled, head tilting as his eyes trailed down her body again. No one had ever made her name sound so decadent. “Want to make this more interesting?”

Her entire body went hot and cold at the suggestion. How was it that this man had already turned her entire night around when she had only known his name for five minutes? Elain bit her lip before leaning closer, intrigued. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’ll make you a cocktail and if you don’t like it, I’ll give you whatever drink you want on the house.”

Elain raised her brows, embarrassingly charmed by everything this man said. “And if I do like it?”

As if he knew that question was coming, Azriel smirked, bending down until his face was close enough to hers that she could feel his breath warm against her lips. Elain felt her breath catch, her heart stutter inside her chest. “If you like it you’ll go on a date with me.”

Elain blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. Why was this bar so fucking warm, all of the sudden? She looked around, aware that she had been so caught up in Azriel she had notice little else. When had the bar gotten so crowded? Elain would’ve felt claustrophobic if not for the man taking up all her attention. “Don’t you have to work?” She asked dumbly, painfully aware of the crowd behind her and of how silly she sounded.

Still, Azriel smiled softly. “Slow night.” He said, refusing to take his eyes off of her. She chuckled, feeling a bit frantic as she watched Azriel watch her back, a daring look in his hazel eyes.

“You want to go on a date with me?” She asked, just to be sure.

“Tonight, preferably.” Azriel said, throwing a cup into the air with an ease that spoke of years of experience.

Elain choked, laughing in disbelief. “Tonight?”

He looked up, all pure charm and wicked smiles. “That dress looks too fucking good on you for you to go home alone.”

Elain couldn’t help but giggle. “You sound very cocky.” Never mind that her entire body was heating up with his every word.

“Yes or no, Elain?”

She bit her lip, unsure. Wasn’t it crass of her to go on a date with another man only hours after being stood up? Elain wasn’t entirely sure what the protocol was in this situation, but she couldn’t exactly say no when everything in her was screaming at her to say yes, go. Truth be told, any thoughts of gingers and missed chances had been long gone. Everything seemed to start and end in the way Azriel, the bartender, was staring at her in the dim-lighted bar. And like Feyre always said, sometimes you needed to take hold of your own destiny.

“Yes.” She said, and Elain was sure she had never sounded so certain in her life. Maybe tomorrow she’d regretted and maybe in 10 years she would look back and think fondly of the one night she decided to be a bit brave and trust the rugged bartender who looked at her with wicked promises in his hazel eyes. Whatever outcome it all had, Elain felt absolutely no regret as she watched Azriel smile, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

And as she watched him pour drink after drink into a steel jigger, pouring liquids into a shaker as if this was just another drink, she knew that no matter the drink he made, Elain would be leaving the bar with him. Because sometimes things just felt right, and sometimes a failed date meant more than being left stranded in an unknown bar. And maybe to Azriel this was just another night – maybe this was something he did often. As a bartender, Elain assumed he had no shortage of pretty girls trying to convince him into a wild night. And yet, it didn’t feel like it was just any other night for him either – not as he kept glancing at her, a smile curving his lips every time he found her, as if relieved she hadn’t left yet. And Elain did not blush. She absolutely did not feel herself coming out of her skin as she watched his biceps bulge as he shook the shaker, and she definitely didn’t squirm in her seat every time those hazel eyes flickered in her direction with a promise that sent heat to her core.

Elain took a shaky breath as he began to pour a red drink into an empty glass in front of her, a sprig of spearmint and a few raspberries sitting prettily on top. Elain eyed her drink dubiously, avoiding Azriel’s watchful gaze. A shot of adrenaline went through her and Elain bit her lip as she eyed the fruit floating on top of her drink.

“What is it?” She twisted the glass around, watching as tiny bubbles danced to the top of the glass.

“Exactly what you need.” Azriel answered simply, making Elain chuckle in disbelief. Her cheeks probably resembled the exact colour of the drink in front of her and Elain wondered if the way his eyes flickered from the drink to her face meant he was noticing it as well.

She raised an eyebrow. “What makes you believe you know what I need, Azriel?” She wouldn’t tell him how he was most likely correct – how raspberries were her favourite fruit.

He shrugged, unbothered by her scepticism. “We can say it’s bartender’s intuition.”

Elain smiled, intrigued. “But what is it, really?”

“Stop stalling, beautiful.” He nodded towards the drink, urging her to take a sip. With little doubt he had nailed it, Elain did.

An explosion of flavour burst in her mouth, and it was all Elain could do not to react to the delicious drink in front of her. The tartness of the raspberry and the hint of lemon mixed perfectly with the sweetness of whatever liquor Azriel had chosen. The freshness of the spearmint kept the drink from being too sweet and – no matter how unbelievable it seemed – it was everything Elain loved. She didn’t know how, but it was everything she needed.

Azriel’s eyes didn’t leave hers, cautious hope clear in his face as he waited for her verdict. Elain wasn’t sure what kind of expression she had on her face, but before she could even say a word, Azriel’s shoulders sagged, and a brilliant smile took over his face.

“So?” He asked anyway, as if needing to hear it coming from her mouth.

Elain finally let herself smile, impressed and a little turned on by how fucking good he was. “What is this drink called?” She asked instead, stalling once again. Because she wasn’t sure what it all meant, but she knew it was more than just a drink.

Azriel huffed, a bit exasperated. “Really?” He groaned, making Elain chuckle.

“Just indulge me, please.”

“It’s called Kismet.” He shrugged, as if his words didn’t send her heart tumbling down her tummy. “It’s an invention of mine.” Elain could’ve sworn his cheeks darkened a bit. Still, his eyes never left hers.

Elain smiled sweetly, making herself comfortable where she sat. Azriel watched her with amusement. “Well, you can make me another one since I’ll be waiting for a while.” She said, eyeing the clock. The bar would close soon enough but Elain didn’t mind waiting. She didn’t mind waiting at all. “Seems to me we’re going on a date, Azriel.”

#elriel month #silver linings and raspberry fortunes #elriel #pro elriel #elain archeron #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #Bartender AU #Bartender Azriel #my writing #elrielmonth2024

77 notes · View notes

rosanna-writer · 5 months

Text

Love at First Sight's for Suckers (1/5)

Summary: [A Feysand Newsies AU] Rhysand had a reputation. A big reputation. But fortunately for Feyre, a newsie selling papers on the streets of Velaris, tabloid gossip about the handsome, charismatic, hard-partying war-hero of a High Lord's heir means business is booming. That is, until the city's newspaper magnates get greedy, Feyre finds herself an unwitting labor leader at the center of a strike, and Rhys becomes an unexpected ally... Warnings: None

A gift for @the-lonelybarricade, for @acotargiftexchange! @lbs-secret-santa is me!

LB, creating this for you has been such a blast, and I am definitely the luckiest secret santa in the world to have such a gem of a giftee. It's rare for someone to have both a talent AND a heart as big as yours—you're truly the High Lady of Feysand, not just because your fics are incredible, but because of the way you make new writers (including me earlier this year) feel immediately welcome and how you handle fandom nonsense with such grace and tact. I'm so glad to call you a friend <3

And sorry for an author's note that reads like an annoying award show speech, but there are SO MANY people I want to thank. The event organizers did such a thoughtful job creating an event that brought so many people together across the fandom; not just secret santa/giftee pairs, but people reaching out to new betas, roping new friends into secrecy shenanigans, and getting hyped about other gifts! @iambutmortal, @thesistersarcheron, @itsthedoodle, @wilde-knight, and @ablogofsapphicpanic have been the best betas/saucy Rhys pun brainstormers/secret keepers/DM screaming session partners, and the daily headlines would not have happened without their beautiful brains. I had SO MUCH FUN watching the excitement and creative energy grow and grow in the lead up to this reveal. And also @reverie-tales, thanks for being my unwitting cover to throw LB off my trail!

Anyway, you can find the first chapter Here on AO3 or under the readmore. Happy Holidays!

One Heir to Share? Rhysand's Rita's Threesome

Baring it All at Starfall! Rhysand Stuns in Daring Deep-V Shirt

Rhysand's Baby Blues: Heir's Latest Fling Spotted Shopping for Baby Clothes

Future High Lord’s High: Witchberries, Fae Wine, and Wild Starfall Benders in the House of Wind?

Lady of the Night or FUTURE Lady of Night? Rhysand's Girlfriend Shocks Royal Family at Nynsar

Un-Rhys-onable: Night's Heir Refuses to Kneel to High Lord

Heir Head! Rhysand Forgets Alphabet During Library Community Service

Rhysand had a reputation.

A big reputation.

Perhaps that was why after selling him the newspaper every day for the better part of a year, Feyre Archeron had long since decided that he was far too full of himself to be ashamed of anything.

As he did every Saturday morning, Rhys appeared on her corner like clockwork, wearing last night's clothes and his trademark smirk. If Feyre wanted to know what lucky male or female had gone home on his arm, she'd only have to check tomorrow's society pages, which were always breathlessly detailing the exploits of the Night Court's handsome, charismatic, hard-partying war-hero of a High Lord's heir.

Not that Feyre cared. There were more important things to worry about than Rhysand's love life, like where her next meal was coming from. She only kept up with it because his scandals sold papers like nothing else.

And she definitely didn't feel a stab of envy every time she read about his latest fling. That would be pointless—a lesser fae shadow-wraith like Feyre would never be Lady of the Night Court. The stir Rhys's Illyrian mother had caused made that obvious enough, even if she was the High Lord's mate.

"Good morning, Feyre darling," Rhysand drawled, the way he always greeted her.

"It's noon, Rhys," Feyre said. The nickname might have been overly familiar, but Feyre had noticed his eyes glittered like stars whenever she used it with him. And besides, after being up since dawn, she wasn't inclined to fall over herself currying favor with someone who'd just rolled out of bed.

"Then let me be the first to tell you that you look delicious this afternoon."

Feyre rolled her eyes, positive she looked the farthest thing from delicious in her threadbare leggings and sweater. If it were anyone but Rhys, she would have been sure they were being cruel. But he had enough of her goodwill that he could pay her teasing compliments and not end up with his teeth bashed in for his trouble.

"Did you give them anything interesting to write about last night?" she said, leaning back against a streetlight and crossing her arms over her chest.

Rhys picked at an invisible piece of lint on his tunic, which almost had Feyre rolling her eyes a second time. Despite being in last night's clothes, he didn't look the least bit disheveled—probably some spell he'd cast to ensure he looked irritatingly perfect as always.

"Mor needed a wingman again," he said.

Feyre relaxed, relieved at his answer. Rhys's equally beautiful cousin was the subject of plenty of headlines of her own, and the two were frequently seen together. The people of Velaris were fascinated by the pretty blonde former Hewn City princess–when the Herald ran a story about her, Feyre just had to shout "Morrigan" to turn heads and make sales. If the lead story was about her, Feyre could probably afford to eat tomorrow.

It had been a while, though, since Rhys had been spotted with someone new on his arm. Or with anyone other than Morrigan, his sister, or the two Illyrians he called his brothers actually. Feyre had rolled her eyes at the rumors of a secret relationship or a hidden love child—if you asked her, the most likely explanation was that there were only so many attractive people in Velaris with a weakness for violet eyes. Rhys was bound to run out of people to fuck eventually.

"Is that the truth?" Feyre said, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Or did you actually find someone to settle down with?"

She'd meant it as a joke, but Rhys didn't smile. There was something hungry, almost predatory, in the way his gaze slid over her. Feyre found herself flushing, even as she stared right back. "Would you care if I did?" he said.

It felt like a challenge; Feyre lifted her chin. "Of course I'd care if you stopped causing scandals. I'm a newsie, and gossip sells papers."

"Of course," Rhys said, something in his expression seeming to shutter. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a gold coin, handing it to her. The value was far more than a single paper was worth, but he'd always insisted she keep the change.

Feyre pulled a paper from the bag slung over her shoulder and handed it to him, longways so there was no chance their fingers would touch. She'd let that happen once, and his fingertips brushing hers had sent a crackle of electricity along her skin that she'd been thinking about ever since. Her mind replayed it almost daily—and frankly, Feyre found that embarrassing.

She pocketed the coin. "Pleasure doing business with you."

When Rhys spoke again, he dropped his voice to a low, sensual purr that sent shivers skittering down Feyre's spine, heat washing over her despite the autumn chill that cut through her tattered clothes. " Everything is a pleasure when it comes to you, Feyre."

He flashed her one last feline smile, and Feyre tipped her cap as he winnowed away, trying not to blush. With her other hand, she fingered the coin in her pocket. It would go under the floorboard with the rest of the ones she'd stashed away. Only a few more until she could afford the one-way ticket to the Continent that she'd been dreaming of.

Velaris was wonderful— if you could afford a big, strong door to lock out the hustle and bustle. Feyre certainly couldn't, and she was dying to get away.

A flash of auburn hair and a shout of "High Lady!" across the street pulled Feyre from her thoughts. Lucien was striding towards her, a half-empty satchel of newspapers slung over one shoulder and carrying another paper bag in his hand. She raised a hand in greeting—she'd stopped cringing at the nickname a long time ago.

"Is the new spot over by the docks working out for you?" she said when he got closer, even though she knew the answer. Lucien could sell papers anywhere; he didn't even need the eyepatch and the sob story about being an Autumn Court orphan who'd found his way to Night—just his brilliant smile was enough.

Lucien shrugged, the gesture far too elegant for someone who'd spent his morning selling newspapers to sailors and fishmongers. "I can make anything work."

"Then why did you come looking for me?" Feyre said. With unsold papers still in his bag, there had to be a reason. The newsies bought the papers from the distributor each morning, starting each day operating at a loss until they'd sold enough papers to recoup the cost. Lucien still had work to do if he wanted to turn a profit.

He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Isn't gazing upon your beautiful face reason enough?"

"You sound like Rhysand."

"And you're saying that like it's a bad thing. Trouble in paradise?"

Feyre resisted the urge to roll up one of the papers in her own bag and smack him with it. Lucien had overheard her speaking to Rhysand once and apparently decided the prince was in love with her. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

"Rhysand isn't—"

" By the Cauldron, he'd follow you around like a lost puppy if you'd let him."

"He's just a flirt," Feyre said, the edge to her voice making it clear she didn't want to talk about this anymore. "What did you need me for?"

"Someone needs to finish my pickles," Lucien said, pulling a sandwich out of the paper bag. He handed Feyre half, along with the entire side of pickles it had come with, then sat down on the curb to eat, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

Feyre nibbled on the pickle, the first thing she'd eaten all day, and thanked the Cauldron for a best friend who hated them and shared them with her. Putting her papers aside, she sat down next to him. "Thanks, Lucien," she said, unwrapping her half of the sandwich. Lunch would be on her next—that had been their unspoken agreement for years, even when meals were sporadic and infrequent.

They lapsed into silence, more intent on eating than talking. It was comfortable, a much needed rest after a morning spent shouting headlines at passersby. Feyre's feet already ached from standing all morning.

After a few minutes, Lucien balled up the now-empty wax paper. "Now that you're fed, I think it's safe to mention that you're needed over by the Rainbow."

"Again?" Feyre said with a sigh.

"Bron and Hart are fighting over the same spot. The High Lady should step in."

Feyre wasn't sure when exactly it had happened, but at some point, she'd found herself the unofficial leader of the newsies of Velaris. She'd always kept an eye out for newcomers and lended them a hand—advice on selling papers and navigating the city was all she had, but Feyre shared freely. When there was a problem, she was usually the one to resolve it.

At some point, "High Lady" had gone from an ironic nickname for a poor girl on the streets to a mark of respect for a young woman who took care of her own.

"I'll talk to them," Feyre said, finishing her food and standing up.

Lucien started to thank her, but Feyre had already called on her magic, her body becoming nothing but shadow. Incorporeal like this, she could slip through walls and travel unseen—and crucially, it was faster than walking. As a lesser fae, it was the only magic she had at her disposal.

Even in the brightest sun, Velaris was full of shadows. And for better or worse, Feyre had made them her home.

***

Rhysand had planned to give himself time to read the news before he was due for a meeting at the House of Wind. Yesterday, he'd told himself he'd be up early enough to look over the agenda ahead of time. He'd wanted to be prepared, and his father would have his head if Rhys was late for official court business again.

But somehow, the High Lord's ire seemed incredibly far away last night, when the Cauldron only knew how many drinks he'd had and Mor was dragging him back to the dance floor at Rita's again, and dawn had nearly broken when he'd finally stumbled home.

Late or not, though, he still had to see Feyre.

The most important part of his day had become buying the paper from her. It wasn't about the news and never had been—every day, Rhys hoped that would be the day she finally took an interest in him that went beyond trading a few teasing remarks and rolling her eyes. He'd never flirted so much, so painfully obviously before, just to have it all go ignored like water off a duck's back.

And that had already been going on for a few months before the mating bond snapped.

Their fingers had brushed as she'd handed him the paper. Perhaps that brief touch skin-to-skin had been all it had taken for the urge to claim and taste and scent his mate to hit him with all the force of a brick to the head. Before he'd done something stupid, Rhys had winnowed away without an explanation or a goodbye.

After that, Rhys had resolved not to tell her, at least not until she showed some sort of interest back. But in the months since, he hadn't gotten her to even blush. And even if by some miracle, she did want him that way and accepted the bond, there was no guarantee she wouldn't resent him after a few decades as future Lady of Night. Her indifference was painful enough—Rhys wasn't sure he could withstand her hating him.

For the short flight to the House of Wind, Rhys let the chill in the air clear his head of thoughts of Feyre. He was supposed to focus today. Some of the city's most powerful merchants had asked for a meeting with his father, and as the High Lord's heir, Rhys was expected to be in attendance too.

The meeting room was already full when Rhys walked in, brushing his windswept hair back into place. From the head of the table, his father glared daggers at him.

Rhys ignored it, dropping into the empty seat that had been left for him. "I hope I didn't miss anything interesting."

He kept the smirk plastered on his face, even as his father pushed past his shields to speak mind-to-mind. We'll discuss this later. For now, get through this meeting without embarrassing me further. That's an order.

Rhys made a mental note to let Mor know he'd likely have to cancel their plans to go to the theater that night.

One of the merchants—Rhys had met him before but had forgotten his name—gave him a cold smile and said, "We were just discussing economic policy."

"Carry on, then," Rhys said.

As the meeting droned on, Rhys forced himself to focus, even if the subject matter was painfully dry. One day, he'd be High Lord, and if he wanted to be the sort of ruler the Night Court deserved, one who made things better, he needed to be knowledgeable and willing to listen.

But even then, he wasn't immune to letting his mind wander. At some point, he'd found himself thinking about how the sunlight had brought out the gold in Feyre's hair, when the sound of his name brought him crashing back down to reality.

"…but you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Rhysand?" one of the merchants was saying, the sneer in his voice obvious.

Rhys felt his father's eyes boring into him, and it was clear this was some sort of test. He was supposed to be handling something, and Rhys didn't want to think about what sort of punishment might be in store for him if he made it obvious he'd stopped paying attention.

"Would I?" Rhys said, arching a brow in a way that he hoped looked imperious.

"With how many headlines you've been the subject of? I think by now you'd know a thing or two about what sells papers. If it weren't for you, we'd have gone under after the War."

Rhys's hands curled into fists under the table as he recalled exactly who this merchant was—Pulitzer, a newspaper magnate, the one who'd been complaining that circulation was down since the Treaty had been signed. Peace, apparently, was boring.

Peace that Rhys had bled for, had nearly died for when he'd been captured by Amarantha's army. Not that any of that mattered when profits were down.

"Then a bit more gratitude is in order," Rhys said, his voice low and deadly and all command, sounding every inch the future High Lord he was. It was so brief that Rhys nearly missed it, but his father's lips quirked up in approval. "If you have a request, I suggest you word it carefully."

It quickly became clear that Pulitzer and the rest of the owners of Velaris's major newspapers had come to grovel. Even if Rhys couldn't bring himself to care, it was true that the Night Court's newspaper industry was bringing in less money since the end of the war. They'd come to petition his father for assistance.

And to Rhys's relief, the High Lord's answer had been a quick and resounding no.

Of course, Rhys knew his father's answer had been more about safeguarding the Night Court's wealth more than anything else. That much was obvious when so many of their citizens were struggling, even in Velaris. It was something that Rhys vowed to change one day.

But Rhys's relief didn't last much longer. His father had told the newspaper moguls to figure it out themselves, and they'd quickly agreed that to fix their bottom line, they'd raise the price for the newsies who bought the papers to distribute each morning.

Newsies who were barely getting by as it was. Newsies who were already going hungry and sleeping outdoors even as the weather got colder. Newsies who'd been orphaned or disabled after the war and couldn't find decent work.

Newsies like his mate, and Rhysand certainly wouldn't stand for that.

#feysand #acotar secret santa #Love at First Sight's For Suckers

107 notes · View notes

onlycosmere · 5 months

Text

What book sequel are you STILL waiting for?

marsh642: It's been weeks since Brandon Sanderson released a book. I hope he's doing ok /s

PattableGreeb: One day I hope to be like that guy output-wise. Not necessarily in terms of volume, but like, the sheer ability to just get into it and commit without much fuss.

erossthescienceboss: I’m a writer, and deeply envy his ability to work within a schedule and use his time. Has he ever experienced writers’ block? At all? Like, I’m in nonfiction — I don’t even do creative writing! Yet so often, it’s like pulling teeth.

Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott is a great book for those of us prone to writers’ block and procrastination (I related to Anne’s writing struggles deeply, and often wonder if she has undiagnosed ADHD) but I’d love to read a Sanderson guide to Actually Writing and Getting Shit Done.

Brandon Sanderson: I'd say that what you do, in nonfiction, is a different beast than what I do. I find nonfiction like pulling teeth too, sometimes!

Of course, fiction can be like that too. I do experience writer's block, but I am fortunate in several ways. One is that I managed to build a very good work ethic during my unpublished years, one I was mostly able to maintain after going professional. I also found a multitude of strategies for dealing with writer's block that have been helpful.

Once in a while, a book just doesn't work, though, and I DO abandon it and get into a funk for a while.

Simple guide for me is:

1) Make manageable goals.

2) Write consistently, and develop habits. Long hours are not as good as consistent hours. Crunching on a book burns you out. Instead, I follow the Stephen King method of shooting for around 2k words a day.

3) If I get into a funk, write anyway, planning to throw those words away. Then re-read them the next day and see if they are actually terrible, or if I was in a funk. Most common result if the words are bad is this: writing them gives my brain something to fix, and it does, giving me a new scene to try. But if I just stop, and don't write the bad words, I get stuck.

4) In emergencies, having something fun and different to work on can give a breather. This is where the Secret Projects came from.

Good luck! Don't know if that helps, but I hope it's at least interesting.

xXCoffeeCreamerXx: Step 2 is where I get caught up. I know I need to build good habits, but I simply can’t get started/stay consistent enough to form those habits. So is there a tip 1.25, 1.5, 1.75?

Brandon Sanderson: There is, but it's unfortunately not going to be quite as useful. That's the step that is most likely to be the tough one, but diagnosing what is causing it is a little like trying to diagnose a disease from a headache. Basically anything can cause you to have trouble building the habits, and so general advice is tougher to give. The solution will really depend on your personal psychology.

How have you built other habits? What motivates you? (Loaded question, I know.) An easy trick is to put your writing time just before or after something you do every week already, and don't have trouble remembering to do. Have a weekly raid with the WoW team? Add writing in before it for two hours. Go to the gym on a Saturday? Build a playlist of mood music for your story, imagine it while there, then stop at a library/cafe always on the way home and write for a few hours as part of the weekly routine.

Involving others in your life can help. Telling them your goals, and getting their buy-in to make you responsible. Starting/joining a writing group (which isn't for everyone, mind you, but works for some of us) so you have a responsibility to submit can work too, depending on if you're the type who will fill bad not having something to share each week after you promised to do so.

Like the cafe suggestion above, a lot of people have more success building a habit if it's something they go out and do--rather than something they do at home, particularly if you're trying to write in a space where you ordinarily relax.

But really, there's a WHOLE lot going on inside of us in regards to motivation, and the individual brain brew is unique to us all. I am helped by keeping a spreadsheet of work done, so I can watch the numbers count up and see my progress. Others I know need a stick or a carrot. Others work on a yearly habit (writing during the summers as a teacher, for example) rather than a weekly one.

And all of that is assuming you're not avoiding writing for other reasons, such as performance anxiety, fear of the blank page, or a sense that something's wrong with your story you don't know how to fix.

Best of luck. Like I said, the advice here might not be as good/relevant as either of us would like. But maybe there's something in it you can take away.

#writing advice #long post #brandon sanderson #cfsbf #root #branderson

79 notes · View notes

mandomaterial · 11 months

Note

Hello, would you be able to write something that’s Miguel x autistic reader?

I’ve seen so much diversity when it comes to diversity when it comes to looks of readers but nothing regarding neurodiversity

I’m not the expert on this- i just wrote about a couple things I do myself and i hope you like it! :3

Miguel dating an autistic reader

You were always a little different from others, but that didn’t bother you, you rather thought it made you special. And your boyfriend thought so too, he found you adorable! You’d known since you were a teen that you were on the spectrum, but fortunately this didn’t affect your life too much. It just made you move a little more or it gave you a little trouble with communicating sometimes. But that was al okay, you found what helps you and everyone important to you understands and doesn’t have a care in the world about you being a little different. Right now, you were just at home with your lovely boyfriend Miguel, it was just a lazy Saturday and the two of you were lounging on the couch watching some dumb comedy show. You were snuggled up to his side, leaning your head on his shoulder and moulding your body to his. He had his arm wrapped around you and kissed the top of your head ever so often.

The show you were watching was about a bunch of people with funny laughs that were invited to the stage. The crowd was just going crazy and everyone was laughing, you pressed your lips shut trying not to explode in laughter as well but it was futile, your giggles came spilling out and you started laughing whole heartedly, your hands started shaking and waving a little, something you did when ever you were almost dying of laughter, wich happened quite often with Miguel, so he couldn’t help but let a large innocent smile wash over him. He loved seeing you giggle and laugh and he found it truly endearing when your little hands started shaking, he’s very glad that you didn’t even think about hiding the little things you do in front o f him any more. At the start of your relationship he noticed that you gripped and held onto your fingers whenever you were laughing and he wondered what that was about but he didn’t ask. Whenever you went out on dates he also noticed that you tended to walk on your toes a bit, at first he thought it was to make you look taller, to lessen the height difference or something but now that you’ve moved in with him he knows better, he knows that its just your way of walking. There was just a little problem. He researched toe walking and he found that it puts a strain on your lower back and knees, and he couldn’t bear the thought of your young body in pain and he had a talk with you.

Miguel mentioned it and convinced you to go see a doctor about it and you revealed that you didn’t like the feeling of your shoes touching your heels and that it was just weird walking differently. Of course Miguel accompanied you to the doctor and in the end, you got special insoles made for your shoes and they really helped. They were moulded to your feet and made your shoes comfortable. Another thing was that you almost religiously hated socks, you told him that it was fine during the day when you had your shoes on but as soon you stepped into the apartment you had the urge to just rip them off, so you did. Miguel didn’t mind one bit and it was quite amusing sometimes when he found your little colourful socks laying a round the entrance. He always picked them up and never reprimanded you about it. The only thing that posed a slight problem again was that in the winter moths the tiled floors of the kitchen and bathroom were very cold and he knew that if you stood on them for too long with your bare feet that you’d catch a cold. So he started placing a little basket filled with slippers near the kitchen and bathroom. Whenever he saw you n there or you wanted to help him cook he’d grab a pair and gently said “Feet please” and you almost automatically raised one foot at a time for him to flip them on. At some times, it really touched you, that he cared so much. He took time out of his day to do little things for you and it made your heart melt. You really really loved him and you hoped to stay with him forever.

Miguel researched a lot about autistic people and the most common traits, he learned that most of the people who were on the spectrum had a special interest and for the longest time he tried figuring yours out without asking you. It wasn’t very obvious but soon enough it revealed itself, you really liked making things! It didn’t even matter what, you tried almost everything from sewing to solving puzzles to crocheting and to pottery. Your things always turned out just the way you wanted and it fills you with glee. There were a couple dresses that you made in your side of the closet and little flowerpots on the windowsills. You had lots of keychains and bracelets but to his surprise you barely wore them and when he asked why, you just told him that you don’t like the feeling of anything on your wrists that moves, for example , you shouldn’t be able to take it off or else you’ll fiddle with it and loose or break it. If you wear any type of jewelry it has to be sung, you told him about your gold bracelet that you wore, it was a matching one with your favourite cousin and it fit tightly around your wrist. It wasn’t stretchy so you couldn’t force it over your palm without opening the clasp. You also told him that hair ties were also fine because they stuck in place when you moved your hands, perfectly melded around your slender wrist.

To say that Miguel was surprised was an understatement, he never thought about it like that, how did you notice all of that? He asked how you felt about rings and you almost gladly replied, talking him that you’ve never found a perfect ring before, they’re all either to tight or too loose, if they’re to tight you struggle with taking them off and it stresses you to no end, making your fingers red, well up a bit and making it even worse, your heart starts pounding and you’ll cry if you can’t get it off. The other scenario was that they just slid off your finger and you had to keep them clenched in order not to loose them in five seconds. It made your joints hurt and made you worried about loosing it, it was just as horrible as being too tight. Miguel agreed with you, all your points were valid after all. After that talk he made sure to only buy you jewelry that he was sure you’d love and that wouldn’t bother you.

One time the wo of you were cooking in the kitchen, with him at the store and you at the chopping board, he noticed out of the corner of his eye, that whenever he did bigger movements that you’d copy them. He turned around to grab something, you’d turn a round and grab something similar. He’d reach over his head to one of the cupboards you do the same. And this didn’t just happen in the kitchen. When the two of you talked for longer periods of time he noticed that you’d copy his hands as he told you a story or something. At first he was a little surprised but the more you did it, the more he got used to it and now? Now he finds it adorable, you’re almost like a cute, little puppy!

Sometimes the things you did changed or completely disappeared. He learned not to mention anything and just go with the flow. He loved you regardless of any antics you had our your little routines you followed. He loved you and nothing would change that. You were one lucky girl and you knew of everything he did for you and you were ever so grateful.

#Miguel #Miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x y/n #miguel spiderman #miguel x you #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader fluff #Miguel O’hara x autistic reader #x autistic reader #x neurodivergent reader #neurodivergent #x reader #x you #Miguel O’hara x reader

228 notes · View notes

writingcold · 2 months

Text

Hello! Welcome to Chapter 6 of CD&FE.

Pairing: Jake X Female Reader

Summary: This is an AU that starts with the release of GVF’s first EP, Black Smoke Rising, and follows along life paths over the course of twenty plus years. So… It’s just messy. Fortunately, it’s also kind of a shorty as far as length goes.

Content warnings: Uncomfortable moments in adult relationships, but smut free.

Word Count: approx. 4.4K

I am so thankful for @edgingthedarkness and @takenbythemadness. But you all better know that by now, but I’ve said it with every damn posting how brilliant they are.

CD&FE, Part 6.1: Her POV

To say that I had gotten comfortable in my relationship with Frankie was an understatement. I felt like we were flourishing. I began to slowly migrate from my office into our home, working one and two days a week away from the office. No one died. No projects failed. Fancy that. I was able to distance myself and yet still get the job done. Life was good. I couldn’t lie about that.

I had gotten a call from my friend Maurice Flanders from Chicago who owned several galleries. I had been handling his accounts for years, but he reached out on this one in particular as it would be a rushed job. He had a show fall through, but found an up and coming artist that had agreed to a limited run on short notice. Of course, I’d never leave him in a bind and agreed to step in right away to handle the advertising for the event, and all of the main graphic needs for the opening night. I didn’t think of the person until well after I had hung up and a few days had gone by. The featured artist would be Clara. His Clara.

Echoes of times and interludes with Jake haunted me from time to time. Stray thoughts lingered longer than they should have. Bits and fragments of dreams would wash a tide across me when I felt weak. Always at my fringe, I could feel Jake’s presence. I could be dicing up vegetables for dinner, or have a song coming on across my feed, or hell, sitting and talking with friends, and all of the emotions of loss of him would come roaring back only to stop short and fizzle out. I supposed that was because it ended how it did. This lingering uncertainty of ‘maybe’. I felt like a corner of me longed for him still.

We were two weeks from the event when Maurice called me personally to check in and to invite me down - after all, it had been ages since we had been together in person. I knew there would be many current clients in attendance. It would be smart for me to be there. Frank was willing to take the weekend trip, so it was a go. Although, part of me was hesitant. Would Jake be there? How was I going to handle seeing him - in person after all this time?

We flew down a few days early to take in the museums and the jazz and blues scene of the city. Frank kept his distance when I needed to work, but he was more than happy to entertain himself. The opening was Saturday night and we were ready to go. It wasn’t like we had to be glamorous, but to say my man looked hot as sin would not be lying. He held me close as we approached the gallery. My stomach did a little flop as I realized that I was looking right at Clara when we walked in before the actual opening. Maurice was lovely, wrapping me up and welcoming us in.

I silently sloshed through emotions whilst keeping my professional appearance while weaving through the introduction to Clara. She gushed over our work - impressed that it was all completed on such a short timeline but so beautifully. She walked me and Frankie around showing us some of her more recent works. All of my internal organs were twisting with fury as I caught glimpses of love and Jake and their time together. I held tight to Frank’s hand, but all the while, my brain was conjuring venom towards the very unaware Clara.

My eyes were darting around when the doors officially opened. He was nowhere to be found. I picked out Jake’s parents right away. They were fawning over Clara, but their son was completely absent. I could see the glint of frustration in the woman’s eyes as they were talking. I dug myself deeper into the gallery. It wasn’t like any of that scene was my business.

I spent the better part of two hours connecting with clients and meeting potential new ones. Frank was my stalwart spirit, smiling and looking incredibly handsome. He seemed totally relaxed in his easy self that just seemed to draw people in instantly. Our last forty minutes was spent with Maurice in a cozy corner going over new contacts that he wanted to share for our valiant effort and success together.

As we started to say our goodbyes, I took note that Jake still was not in attendance. My heart squeezed a bit. I’m unsure if it was because he was not in attendance, or if there was a personal issue that was lingering behind the pretty woman’s smile. A small portrait towards the front caught my eyes and held it as we meandered towards the door. It was Jake, but his face was down, the brim of a hat covering most of his features. I felt removed. I had no right feeling this way, but my whole focus seemed to be parked on a man that I had not physically seen in six years. Six. And he still commanded my thoughts like we had just parted the day before.

The rest of summer rolled through quietly. Frank had been gone a few weeks due to conferences, to which I took advantage to catch up with friends. Patrick and Sidney took most of that time, but I so enjoyed our time together. In October, I found myself in Paris, accompanying Frank for one of his academic conferences. While he was buried in work, I was gracing the balcony of a beautiful little room, sipping coffee and soaking in the ancient city around me. Our evenings were our own. We walked everywhere until we couldn’t walk any more. We laughed over food and cried over art. I wanted more time. Always more time, but life was calling us back.

By December, I had somehow discovered that the bulk of my work week was spent in my pjs in my home office. And I didn’t feel bad about it. Christmas brought around news I didn’t expect.

“You’re procreating?” I asked, unable to hide the shrill note in my tone.

Patrick and Sid were sitting with huge smiles before me. “Aunt Y/n has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” Pat said finally, letting me fully digest the moment.

It was unreal to think that my oldest friend was going to be a father. But they were happy. Beyond it, actually. The babies would arrive in the summer - fraternal twins no less. I was secretly planning on buying every obnoxiously loud, bright, annoying toy possible to fill their lives with such joy. Pat deserved a little more chaos in his life, right?

Spring arrived with a definite bang. We seemed to go from ice and wind and ten foot high drifts of snow to green overnight. I had come home from a client dinner party to find the apartment quiet. I went to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, discovering that Frankie was out on the deck. The faint glow of a cigarette rested between his fingers, while a glass was nestled into the palm of his other hand. It was an odd sight. Frank didn’t smoke unless his mind was troubled.

I walked out onto the deck and wrapped my arms around his waist. He was quick to crush the smoke, but I had seen it was not just the one he had imbibed in. He had been outside for quite some time.

“How was your meeting?” he asked as he turned to welcome me proper.

“Good. I would say we landed another solid client.” I allowed myself to be wrapped up in his dense frame and scent. There was an air of removal that I did not understand. “Something must have happened, huh? Tough day?”

He hummed as he let me go. “Actually, something that I wasn’t expecting came up.”

I frowned when he paused. His whole aura seemed shifted. He was holding back. I frowned all the more as he lit another cigarette and leaned away from me. My gut blazed with a stab of anxiety. I was left wishing I would’ve poured something harder than the water.

“I’ve been invited to teach in Paris,” he said, his voice void of what made him sound like himself. It was weird.

I could see that he was happy about it, but he wasn’t allowing himself to be. I must’ve flashed an expression that he didn’t like. He turned away from me, with his face turned to the sky. “Are you not happy about this?”

“I am actually really fucking happy about it,” he muttered, his voice full of an edge.

“But-”

He let out a long stream of smoke after lighting up another cigarette. “I’ve been out here for hours trying to guess how you would answer my question if I asked you to come with me. However, I think I already have my answer.”

“That’s not fair,” I whispered.

“Would you go?”

It was like I was going a hundred miles an hour and someone just threw my ass into park without the benefit of hitting the breaks. My insides felt like they were liquefying as he seemed to fight himself from looking at me. I knew what he was asking. I had heard this question in a different, unspoken form before. And the answer was the same.

“Frank,” I hiccuped.

“It’s all right. I get it,” he said, voice hushed. “I need some time out here. Alone. Please.”

My jaw softened as I felt all those liquid guts swirl just under my skin. I felt like I was going to throw up as I pushed my way back into the apartment. My legs were declaring a mutiny as I tried to climb the stairs. I found myself melting onto the fourth step. I was in a ball while the man I had made a life with for the better part of six years was hurt outside.

I went to bed alone and I woke up alone. Frank was not in the apartment when I padded down the stairs. The knot that had strangled my innards the night before was limp from bleeding out. I was too tired to search for a note. I was sure eventually, we’d discuss the situation. I wanted to say I’d go with him. I wanted to say that I would be able to leave my work behind. But in truth - I just couldn’t.

I sat curled on the couch, waiting for him to come home. I saw a text from Pat, but I couldn’t find it in me to pay attention beyond who it was from. The parallel was not lost on me as I looked around my home - our home. It was true that I was slowly creating distance from my work, but by street blocks only. To completely leave it behind? Wasn’t that what he was silently asking of me?

It wasn’t until early evening that Frank returned. He looked hollow as he set his keys down on the table. I felt gutted as he sat down next to me. I threaded my fingers into his, but made no move closer to him. It was like a division was already between us. It hurt to breathe the same air, let alone be in the same space.

“I can’t say ‘no’ to this, Y/n,” he said quietly. “I refuse to be that guy to tell you to quit your job. I just don’t know where that leaves us.”

I tucked my chin to my chest. All the love, all the life was slipping away like a threadbare scarf. I hated this. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. And yet, I couldn’t force my mouth to wrap around the words that I needed to speak.

“Distance doesn’t work for me,” he whispered. “I’m a jealous man, if I was being honest.”

“And if I’m not ready-” My words dried up in my throat, crackling like brittle paper.

“I’m not ready, either,” he replied, tightening his hold on my hand. “Could you leave your company behind? Honest. As honest as you can be.”

No matter how much I wanted to say ‘yes, I can leave’, I just knew it was wrong. I looked at him as my eyes filled and spilled across my cheeks. I shook my head ‘no’ as my throat refused to function through the emotions.

“Didn’t think so,” he whispered.

I fell into him as I couldn’t hold back my tears. He made no move to hide his own. We mourned together. We found comfort in each other’s touch. It was like we knew it was the end.

CD&FE, part 6.2: Jake’s POV

“It’s been coming for a while, Jake,” Clara said, after I finally got her to sit down at the dining room table.

“Really? I thought everything was just fine,” I said, not trying to hide the bitterness from my tone.

She puffed out her cheeks with a hard breath. “Come on. Surely you don’t think everything has been all right?”

“Enlighten me.”

I was mad. I was mad more at myself. She did not seem to really want to answer. But that was Clara. I wanted to know. I wanted honesty. She wanted to hide from conflict. If she wanted out, I was not going to stop her, however I needed to know what the hell I did wrong.

“Chicago wasn’t my only show you missed,” she said quietly. She shook her head. “No. I shouldn’t say it that way. It was my choice to be on tour with you. I loved traveling with you.”

“But.”

She squirmed in her seat. I did not like making her feel uncomfortable, but I felt like I could at least understand. “I turned down two galleries this past year because they conflicted with the tour. I turned down working with others last year because they conflicted with the tour. When Chicago came around, and I saw it fit between shows, I thought maybe you would see my passion was as strong as yours. Perhaps it would be a way for you to see that I was as good-”

“Fuck,” I whispered against the anger that flooded my system. “You can’t put that on me. Just because you chose not to take an opportunity…?”

Clara slapped the table and jumped from her chair. I followed her as she fled to the bedroom. This was her pattern. Run. Run from any kind of conflict and let it fester until it was a hundred more times hurtful as it became a torrent flooding out of her.

“Talk to me! How can you think I felt your work was ‘not good’? I’m just as excited as you are that this is getting somewhere for you,” I said, fighting to keep my tone from hitting a harsh line.

“Really? Could’ve fooled me,” she grumbled, coming to a stop. “I have followed you around this planet with you for years, Jake. On tour, you take no notice of how I struggle to keep up. I need more time in these spaces. I need more time to create. But it’s like you have blinders on and it’s always only about the tour. Only about your work and never about anyone else.”

“It’s kind of what I do. My job. I can’t apologize for working to keep us to the level that we are. Many people depend on me, on us, to live on. It’s more than just about me. If I don’t do a good job, if we aren’t out there, families are affected.”

She rolled her eyes. “And you don’t really think about the effects on your own family.”

“We’re all working our asses off-”

“I wasn’t talking about your brothers, Jake! Me! Your family that you won’t marry?”

I stopped moving. Clara threw her hands up out of frustration and proceeded to stomp back into the bedroom. A tiny fraction of me did not want to pursue the argument. It whispered to let it go. Let her go.

“That can’t be it,” I found myself saying out loud. She scoffed as I walked into the bedroom after her.

“What - a commitment? I’m fucking human, Jake.”

I felt my brows pinch as I watched her wrestle her bags from the bed only to grab another empty suitcase and fling it open. “I-”

“I want it. I have wanted all of this. All of you. Don’t you see that?”

The corners of my mouth turned down. She was throwing her clothes into the case without consideration. It was then I realized that her ring was gone. That little whisper was rising in volume, but still not sharp enough for me to listen.

“What I see is someone who doesn’t trust me enough to let me go on tour without her,” I said, unable to really recognize the flatness of my own voice.

The laugh that slithered from her mouth made me cringe. “Trust? Fuck yeah, I don’t trust you. I see how others are out there. Leaving their wives at home so they can fuck anyone that comes across their plate! Fuck that.”

“That’s not me,” I whispered. “You’d know that if you gave me the chance.”

She started to say something but stopped. She dropped the clothes from her hands and took a step back. “Still doesn’t change the fact that you do not want to marry me.”

I nodded. She was right. I may have at one point thought that marriage in my profession was impossible, but that wasn’t totally it. I believed if I made a commitment, I didn’t need anyone else’s approval, a little paper, or any other archaic belief to say that I am with someone. That voice had gone from a whisper, to nearly a full voice, was now shouting at me.

“I’m sorry you thought you had to live around me,” I said, retreating back to the doorway. “That was never the case.”

“It was always the case, whether you realized it or not. I was given a schedule and felt like I had to live by it. I put myself in that schedule where I could.”

“That was your lack of faith in me, Clara. That’s not something I can fix.”

I walked away, allowing her to finish collecting her things. So much of this house was her. So much of the life within it was her. Was I sad about it? Yeah. It hurt like a fucking punch to my chest. But it was done.

I poured myself a whiskey and wandered out to the patio with my phone in hand. I called Josh, only to be sent to voicemail. Dick. I called Mom, but then forgot the folks were on a flight home. My brain was formulating plans. I listened to the rambling playing of the neighbor kids and the distant practice of someone on a piano. I must’ve been out there no more than an hour before I heard Clara behind me.

“I called an Uber. I’ll stay with my friends for a few weeks to figure this out.”

Her voice was void of warmth. There was nothing to figure out. It was just done.

“I leave on Monday,” I replied, looking up at her. “I’ll be gone for two weeks. If you want, you can clear out while I’m gone.”

“Wow,” she sighed. “I say done and you mean it. Kinda cold, Jake.”

I shook my head. “I cannot be with someone who has no faith in me, and cannot trust me. I will not be with someone who thinks so little of my commitment. You shouldn’t want to be with me if I make you live by my schedule. Or think that I am holding you from what you love. Those are some pretty big stopping points.”

She sighed. “I suppose you are right.”

I heard her leave, but did not watch. I reached for my phone and began an attempt to text my twin, but he was strangely radio silent. I realized in the silence, that I had not gone to actually see Clara’s showing postings. For that I was a real prick. I opened up the socials and got to her professional page. She looked happy in the first picture - she stood in the middle of the small gallery with her works all around her. I scrolled through the pictures slowly, taking in each shot of the paintings I knew well. Each one seemed to look different under the lighting, but they were all here.

I stormed through the first dozen or so before I stopped. At the edge of the frame was a familiar face. Y/n was standing with a small group, all wrapped up in her professional armor and disarming smile. I frowned for a moment. I started scrolling down and looking at the actual description and noticed a small ‘thank you’ note that included the owner of the gallery, the management team and… oh hell. Y/n had personally taken care of all the advertising and graphics within the gallery. I went back to the picture and stared. It was like all the hurt, all the guilt was paused.

I wondered if she knew who Clara was. I wondered if she was aware of our connection. Surely she had seen my post about Clara. Oh… fuck. Did Clara know? Surely not. A knot of anxiety twisted through my chest forcing me to stand up and fly into the house, phone clutched tightly in my palm. I was spooked. I was realizing that the last day was beginning to filter through. The final moments especially - I hadn’t even said goodbye. Who does that?

I decided to give her the space she asked for, going out on the next stretch before reaching back out to her. When I returned home, it was an empty house. She had taken all of her things, her artwork, the pieces that she had wanted to be in our shared space. I texted her that I was back, knowing that the last part was to get the keys. I made a nice dinner of all her favorites, along with her choice of wine. I had flowers delivered that reminded me of our time in Rome a few years back. It wasn’t meant to be romantic, but I’m sure that was what it looked like when I finished getting everything ready.

She smiled when I invited her inside. Her eyes latched onto the table and started to shake her head with excuses to leave.

“Just come and talk with me.”

I took her purse and set it to the side as she reluctantly walked past me. “Jake, I’m not sure if this is a good idea.”

“Just talk,” I promised, waving her towards the table.

I poured a glass of wine while she sat down. I took a drink of my beer before pulling serving dishes out of the warming oven. I plated up and joined her.

“I know I’m springing this on you, but,” I started, setting down her food before her, “I just thought it would make this a little easier.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “It looks delicious.”

We picked at our food, and it was silent. It was not what I was hoping for in the slightest, but it was a start.

“Have you been staying with Grace and Tucker?” I asked, hoping to break the ice.

“I haven’t left Nashville, if that’s what you’re searching for, Jake,” she answered.

I ate the hard tone and tried to let it go. Sitting back in my chair, I wiped the corners of my mouth. “I’m not looking for a fight, Clara.”

“Then what is all of this? A grand send off?”

I rolled my eyes. “If that’s what you want to call it, fine. I just want to part as friends. We were such good friends towards each other - why leave it with all that hurt out there?”

“Pretty one sided friends, if you ask me.”

My eyes rolled closed. I sucked in a long, slow breath. “I saw the pictures from Chicago - on your socials. Mom shared a few more as well. No matter how you think of me, I am proud of you. It was wrong of me to miss it.”

She set her glass down and finally made eye contact. “Why didn’t you want to be there?”

“Who said I didn’t want to be there? I made every attempt to get there. I won’t be an ass and blame the weather, but… I really am sorry I missed it,” I replied honestly. “You know how I am when we’re out there. If I don’t focus on what I’m supposed to be doing-”

“You were supposed to buy that ticket and be with me.”

I frowned. “And I am upset with myself over it, Clara.”

“Sure you are.”

“Of course I am. It was my mistake, but it showed us that you are to move in this other direction,” I said, tapping my fingers on the table softly. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to follow me, Clara. It was never my intent to keep you from your art.”

She flashed a sad little smile. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I didn’t trust you. I was scared. I saw what happens out there. It’s not pretty.”

“It’s very easy to get caught up,” I admitted, keeping my voice level. “It hurt that you wouldn’t allow me to try, at least. At least prove that I could be faithful to us. There are more on the road that can be faithful than not.”

She nodded. “I’m not sorry for our time together, Jake.”

“Neither am I,” I whispered as she touched my hand.

Closure. It was not stomping away in anger. It was not lighting my days on fire just to show her what kind of man I could be. It was quiet and reverent of our time together. I hugged her goodbye and it felt good to watch her walk away knowing that she was going to be just fine without me. What more, I knew I was going to be just fine without her.

So, I’m unsure if I want to break our final part, part 7, into the three postings, with a fourth posting for the epilogue, or to post 7.1 with 7.2, and have 7.3 with the epilogue. 🤔 I’m leaning towards having two more posts after today’s, instead of four.

I’ve had quite a few new people join the taglist. However, if you are one of those who do not participate and post, it’s hard to tag you. I’m sorry. I’ve tried, but tagging in posts is shoddy as it is, so if you are not getting the notification that I’ve posted, but you’re on the taglist? It’s just the world that our tumblr is. I’m trying though - I’m trying to get these tags to work! Promise

I do have a tag list here, or you can just let me know in a reply to add you.

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @gretavanbitches @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatcherc @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @reesetrippingthelight @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @wetkleenex-gvf @gold-mines-melting @starsasone @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter

#jake gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #gvf #cd&fe #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fan fiction #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet AU #jake kiszka AU

39 notes · View notes