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nationalharryleague · 3 years

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Saturday Morning

Summary: Y/N and Harry spend a lovely Saturday in bed.

Genre: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF and a “Two for the Show” extra!!

Word Count: 2.5K!

A/N: Two for the Show is by far my favorite and the most popular fic I’ve ever written and I just missed my babies so much I had to write an extra for them!! I owe my heart to my loves S @tobesolonely and Nat @harrystylescherry for reading this for me and reassuring me when I needed it!! I am very rusty so please be nice! You can find more of my writing in my masterlist and I really want to hear what you have to say about this one!!! Also hi soph <3 @theharriediaries

**Read Two for the Show first**

***

Saturday mornings had always been Y/N’s favorite.

When she was little, she always woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon coming from the kitchen up the hall (courtesy of her father being an early riser who always got a bit bored in the mornings). As she got older, she spent them sleeping in and trying to recharge from long days at school, basking in whatever peace she could get before exiting her room into the chaos of her loving--but crowded--household. When she got to college, Saturday mornings were reserved for dealing with hangovers, and once she moved to LA and her career began to take off, it was the only time she had for herself in her busy schedule.

Her love for Saturdays had only grown since she had moved in with Harry.

They always woke up slowly, basking in the quiet of their bedroom and the soft glow created by the light that streamed through the small crack in their blackout curtains. The pair were often a tangle of limbs by the morning, pressed together as close as they possibly could get, both of them feeling at their most relaxed when they could feel their partner’s heartbeat against their own. Sometimes someone woke up with an elbow to the ribs, but most of the time Y/N’s cheek was pressed up against Harry’s shoulder, her face buried into his neck, with his arm draped around her waist and tightly holding her to him like she might roll away in the middle of the night.

That morning she woke up to Harry’s curls tickling her nose. He had been growing them out slightly, letting them fall to a middle part that gently flicked out at the bottom. It reminded her of when he had hosted SNL a few years prior and she adored it. It was just the right length to sink her fingers into and hold on to him. But she did not appreciate it pulling her out of her beauty sleep.

She had wiggled away from the wispy hairs, trying to get her face away from the tickling strands when she felt Harry’s hands clamp down on her waist, refusing to let his girl slip away from his grasp.

“Stay,” he rasped, clearly still half asleep and mumbling in a way she knew no one else could have understood. “You’re warm.”

“I’m not leaving,” she murmured, maneuvering her way onto her other side and pressing her back against his chest. “Just adjusting.”

“But I like holding you that way.”

“Hold me this way.”

“Yes, sir,” he smirked against the back of her neck, delicately placing a few kisses to her skin while he was there. “You just wanted to be the little spoon.”

A sleepy but mischievous smile crawled onto her lips as she snuggled further into her pillow, eyes still closed in hopes of keeping the day away just a little bit longer. “Maybe I did. What are you going to do about it?”

The second his hands moved to her waist she knew what was about to happen. A squeal left her lips as his fingers began to move rapidly at her sides, pulling loud and boisterous laughter from her chest. Sleep was a dream of the past now, but she was sure she wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.

When Harry was gone--either on tour, work trips, or the occasional solo visit to see his family--she missed him like crazy. She still remembers the empty heartache she felt when he had gone on the next leg of the tour without her when they were still brand new. She had to be in LA for her now exploding career (thanks Harry), but daily phone calls and incessant texting could only do so much when the person she was quickly falling in love with--for real this time--was on another continent. By some miracle, she had made him feel the same way about her as she did him through a screen.

She always felt like he had taken a piece of her with him when he was gone. He did if you counted the small hidden tattoo of her first initial that had found its way onto his ribs after their (actual) two year anniversary.

The feeling of missing him never left when he was gone. She imagined he felt the same whenever she was on tours or work trips of her own.

While her body fought against his tickling touch, her heart melted into it. These moments, on (usually) quiet saturday mornings, meant the world to her. This was a time that was just theirs, belonging to no one else but them. Their joy and love took place in private, as privacy became something the couple had been increasingly possessive of as of late.

Harry’s loud and giddy laughter behind her sounded like a perfect melody and she could feel his chest heaving against her back as he rolled onto his back and brought her with him. Their comforter was now tangled around them, wrapping the pair together in a way neither of them could move with Y/N’s thrashing. He finally ended his torture when she whezed out between giggles that she was going to pee herself.

“Okay, I’ll stop,” he relented, letting his hands leave her sides to reach them across his stomach and hold her body tightly on top of his. “We both know how you pee your pants.”

“Harry Edward Styles, it happened one time three years ago after nearly an entire bottle of tequila! How long are you going to hold onto that and bring it up?”

“Until it’s not funny anymore,” he snickered.

“You know what’s also funny? When you got so sloshed you were crawling under tables at the BRITs. Or that time that you got so drunk that you sent Jeff a dick pic by accident because you thought you were sending it to me. Or that other time-”

“That’s enough!” he announced, playfully clamping a hand down over her mouth, and releasing her mouth and a disgusted ‘blegh’ when she ran her tongue up his palm.

“Behave Styles,” she teased as she inched her way up his body, resting her head on his shoulder and snaking her fingers up into his hair, giving it a gentle tug as a warning.

“You know I like it when you pull my hair like that, so how about you behave, Styles?”

“That’s Y/L/N-Styles to you,” she teased, but she couldn’t fend off the giant grin that found its way to her lips at the mention of their still very recent nuptials.

The wedding had been small, very small, with only their immediate families and best friends in attendance. While their relationship had started in (and for) the focus of the public eye, they both decided their wedding was going to be just between them and those that mattered most. They didn’t wear their rings in public and no magazines had leaked or published that they were married yet. The day that it became public information was inevitable, but at the moment, the two relished in their little secret.

She felt a swell of love within her as she thought about her husband, sliding out of his grip and onto the bed beside him so she could finally see his face. His eyes were always a little puffy in the morning, a sight shadow of stubble decorating his cheeks if he had shaved the morning prior, but his tired smile was always the same. His pink lips lazily perked up to the left, his deep dimple appearing as if to say ‘good morning,’ and his two front teeth that always reminded her of an adorable bunny made their first appearance of the day. His smile usually disappeared quickly though, morphing into a pout and asking for a kiss.

How could she ever say no?

She settled a hand onto his bare chest and propped herself up to reach her lips to his. Their mouths moved with a well practiced gentle love and passion for each other, Harry’s hands coming to rest on her heating cheeks. She moved herself over him, settling her knees on either side of hips, never breaking their lips apart.

Kissing him was her favorite activity and with five years of practice, they were really good at it by now, but the swirling electricity that always appeared never failed to bring a flush to her cheeks. She could never get used to him. He was intoxicating and she never wanted to sober up.

Their moment was interrupted by a loud grumble coming from Harry’s stomach and Y/N pulled her lips from his and threw her head back with a loud belly laugh she just couldn’t contain.

“You good?” she teased down at him, lightly poking at his bare stomach right below her favorite butterfly.

His cheeks flushed slightly as he dramatically hung his head and flashed his best puppy-dog eyes at her with a silent plea to feed him. “I think I’m hungry.”

“You can be hungry but I’m not getting out of bed to make you breakfast.”

“Well, I’m not getting out of bed either,” his eyebrow quirked. “Aren’t you hungry? Don’t you want your morning coffee that you say I don’t make right?”

She pretended to think about it for a moment. “I’m willing to risk shitty coffee if I get to stay in this bed.”

“I will do anything you want other than getting out of this bed right now.”

“Anything?” she questioned with a raised eyebrow and a curious lilt in her voice. She was quickly answered with an eager knod. He obviously thought this was some sort of sexual request by the smirk that rose to his face. “You have to clean the litter box until I decide I’ve been properly paid back for your veggie omelet and tea.” His face fell.

“That’s your job!”

“Exactly why I don’t want to do it.”

“I’ll do literally anything else.”

“My one offer. Take it or leave it?”

“Leave it,” he said with a theatrical pout and crossed his arms over his chest. She was momentarily distracted by the way his tattoos moved over his muscular and tan arms for a moment, but shook herself from the thought and steeled herself in her stubbornness.

The two shared an intense look for a moment, both of them deciding whether or not they would press the issue further. With a sigh and slight roll of her eyes, she stuck out her hand towards him.

“We go on ‘shoot’ and none of your ‘best two out of three’ bullshit.”

As childish as it felt, Rock, Paper, Scissors had become their way of negotiating most of their disagreements over the years. It was a lighthearted game of chance, and while it sometimes led to a few minutes of frustration for the losing party, it worked for them and stopped arguments before they could happen. Interviewers often thought it was a joke when they answered the usual “secrets to a happy relationship” question, but it couldn’t be more truthful.

“Fine, we play by your rules.”

Their fists dropped down to their opposite palms three times, before both called “shoot.” She had gone for rock. Harry had gone for paper.

A loud combination of a whine and a groan left her lips and she dramatically let her body fall off of his and back onto her side of the bed.

“Fair is fair, my love,” he playfully taunted. “I would like my veggie omelette and I’m thinking I could go for some green tea this morning.”

“I will be getting you back for this,” she grumbled as she began to drag herself off the bed and away from it’s cozy warmth. She slipped his go to Columbia black hoodie over her head and took a pouty deep breath. It would have been more dramatic but she was distracted by how good the sweatshirt smelled. It smelled like home.

“I love you so so much,” he defended, opening his arms wide to grab her for one last kiss before she ventured down to the kitchen.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled against his lips. “I love you too.”

She sulked out of their bedroom towards their kitchen (not before Harry swatted at her butt that was barely covered by the sweatshirt) and began to hold up her end of their deal. The cold tile nipped at her toes as she made them both omelettes and bopped along to the music she had instructed their Alexa to play. She fixed herself a morning coffee (that Harry really did always screw up somehow) and rummaged through their cabinet until she found her husband’s special order of green tea.

“Come get your breakfast, princess,” she shouted up the stairs when she was finished and after pausing her music.

“No breakfast in bed?”

“You are not getting eggs on our new--very expensive--sheets. Come down here and give me another kiss.”

She heard a whine of “fine” come from their bedroom followed by the padding of feet. Harry appeared at the top of the stairs moments later, rubbing at his eyes like a sleepy child and she just wanted to pull him into her arms and run her fingers through his hair until he fell back asleep. He pecked her lips softly when he reached the bottom of the stairs, but killed it when he called her a “breakfast tyrant.”

Y/N followed him back into the kitchen and watched him plop his still sleepy body into one of the high chairs at their kitchen island in front of his plate and his favorite mug that read “Coffee has a rough time in our house. It gets mugged every single morning!” She hooked an arm around his shoulders and slid herself onto his lap, sipping on her coffee as she waited for his opinion on his breakfast.

“It’s always better when you make it,” he smiled at her and pressed an eggy kiss to her cheek.

“You always say that,” she smirked back at him, only causing his smile to grow. “Oh, I almost forgot. Alexa, resume music.” He gave her a faux frustrated stare as he recognized what song she had been playing.

“And when we go crashing down, we come back every time, 'cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style!” rang out from the small speaker on their counter and she laughed so hard she would have slipped off his lap if his arm wasn’t wrapped firmly around her waist.

“How long are you going to hold onto that and bring it up?”

“Until it’s not funny anymore,” she used his own words from this morning against him with a cheeky smile.

“You are so lucky I love you so much.”

“And I love you more,” she mumbled against his lips, bringing her smirk with her into their kiss.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!!! If you enjoyed this you can support a broke college kid here :)

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles concept #harry styles fanfic #nationalharryleague #mine #one direction #one direction fanfic

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marvelouspeterparker · 3 years

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just little old me

pairing: harry styles x reader

summary: after releasing his second album, and the music video to his hit “watermelon sugar”, the response from his fans is overwhelmingly positive. and while you’re not surprised, harry on the other hand is very grateful, but just a little confused. but you’re more than happy to help clear some things up for him.

warnings: smut (hints of sub! and dom!harry––we love a switch) + unprotected sex but y’all know not to do that! be safe <3

word count: 3k

notes: this is my first ever harry fic! (also based on the summary u can see how long ago i started this sfjkdhgs) i’m so scared to post this i feel like all the harry writers are so talented––

[i’ve been reading harry fics for so long and these are just some of the blogs that you could say pushed my love for harry and inspired me to write a fic of my own: @majorharry @harryforvogue @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy @sunflowervolvimp3 @haroldloverboy @songbirdstyles if you haven’t read their stuff yet, you should! i reread them all the time!]

You and Harry had been friends for the longest time, since before he was the Harry Styles. You’d watched him grow up in the spotlight while you supported and loved him from the sidelines. He’d bring you everywhere with him when he could, or rather when you allowed him to––you didn’t like the idea of him spending his money on you, but he always waved you off, saying nothing was too much if it was for you.

You were so proud of what he’d achieved and what he’d become but he was still the same Harry you grew up with and you couldn’t be more grateful to have him in your life all this time.

While he rarely spent his time on social media, you spent a majority of your time checking your phone and refreshing your feeds––you just liked to be informed and up to date. Harry didn’t interact that frequently with his fans online, instead preferring the connection when you meet face to face. However, although he wouldn’t respond to people, he would often let you show him what people were saying––after all, he was human too and sometimes he would get a little curious.

You and Harry had been sitting on his couch for an hour now, him messaging Jeff to deal with work related things while you scrolled through twitter, looking at the fans reactions to Harry’s latest music video. It made you smile seeing how happy he made people, you’d seen several people had said that this was “exactly what we needed during this time” and honestly, you couldn’t agree more.

You scrolled down some more and genuinely laughed out loud at the next tweet you read. “I’d sell both my legs and arms just to be the watermelon slice between Harry’s teeth.”

You caught Harry’s attention and he looked over at you, raising a brow, a small smile on his lips. “What’s up?”

You settled down from your laughing fit and showed him the tweet and both his eyebrows raised.

He laughed sheepishly, “You know I really don’t get the ‘hype’”, he put the last word in air quotes. He was always trying to keep up with the latest “slang” as he would put it. He shrugged, a small smirk on his face “I’m just little old me.”

Though his face showed humor, after all the these years, you could tell from the look in his eyes that there was some truth behind his words.

You looked at him incredulously before rolling your eyes and putting your phone aside, unable to stop yourself from going off. “It’s because you’re so genuinely kindhearted, talented and incredibly attractive.” You said as a matter off factly, looking him right in the eye, before looking down at your hands and leaning further back into the couch. “And you have this aura about you––Literally anyone would get down on their knees for you if you asked––actually, no, you wouldn’t even have to ask. You could just look at them and they’d do it, no questions asked. They’d know what to do.”

You had no idea where the courage for you to say all that came from, but you have to admit something about seeing him biting into those watermelons and looking right in the camera three minutes straight while he sang about eating someone out put you on edge. You had been there for him through all his relationships and you loved having him as a friend...but being that close to Harry and not falling in love with him was practically impossible and you weren’t blind. I mean come on.

After a few moments had passed and he still hadn’t said anything, you looked up at him. He was sitting there, a serious look on his face as he stared you down, completely silent. He put his phone down on the table and leaned back, spreading his legs.

You quickly glanced down at his lap then back up to meet his eyes. “What––What are you doing?”

He looked you up and down. “Well according to you,” he tilted his head cheekily, “all I need to do is look at you, and you’ll know what to do.”

Your breath hitched, your brain malfunctioning.“I––You?” You shook your head, knowing that Harry wouldn’t be doing or saying anything if he didn’t mean it. You decided you’d ask questions later. After all, it’d been a while since you got with anybody and you were more than a little horny. You snapped out of your daze and made your way over to him, sliding down onto your knees right in front of him.

You pushed down the thought of how there were literally millions of other people who would kill to be in your position right now and focused on the task at hand. You looked up at him, silently asking for some direction but he shook his head slightly, “This is all you, love. You call the shots.”

You nodded to yourself, taking a deep breath as you calmed yourself down. “Can you take these off for me?” You asked, pulling on his shirt and his sweats.

He quickly got up and stripped himself of his shirt and his bottoms, but you stopped his hands before he could reach for his briefs. You cleared your throat, looking up at him, “I––I can do it.”

He smiled at you before dropping his hands at his sides, letting you do your thing.

You slowly brought the material down, letting his member spring free, trying not to stare too much because wow. You left a trail of soft kisses down his thighs as you pushed the underwear down his legs and you could feel him taking sharp breaths as you did so. He quickly stepped out of them and waited for you to tell him his next move.

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and innocently sinful and he swore he felt himself swell up a little more. Your voice was small yet firm when you spoke up. “Can you sit down for me, please?”

He eagerly took a seat and placed his hands on his thighs, his ringed fingers spread out, anxiously tapping against his legs. You grabbed his member and he let out a shaky breath, eyes flitting between your hands on him and your face––both views entrancing him.

“Is this okay, H?” You asked softly and he almost choked on his breath.

He nodded, “Y––Yeah, f’course it is lovie, shit.”

You hummed, smiling as you leaned forward and swirled your tongue around his tip. You left open mouthed kisses along his shaft and licked along his cock, from the base to the top before spitting on it, spreading it with you hand and getting it nice and wet. His fingers were digging into his thighs and you couldn’t help but notice.

You took your hand off of him and ignored the whine that escaped him as you did so. You took his hands in yours and placed them on your head, “You can.” You smiled gently and he nodded, his fingers grasping your strands firmly but not harsh enough to hurt you.

You put your mouth back on him, stroking him as you took him into your mouth, bobbing your head, relishing in the small whimpers and moans of your name he let out. You were completely focused on him, tuning into what made him react the loudest and doing it over and over again just to hear those pretty sounds again.

His fingers gripped your hair harder, his hips unwillingly bucking into you softly as he got closer. “M’gonna cum, love. Don’t––” He was mumbling, biting his lips as he looked down at you. When you sucked on his tip, looking him in the eyes, he cursed softly and let his head rest on the cushion, deciding it was too much to feel you and look at you if he wanted to last. “Don’t wanna cum just yet.”

You hummed and pulled off of him, your hand still stroking him. “No?” You pouted playfully. He could hear it in your voice and it only made him twitch in your hand.

“N––No.” He swallowed thickly and looked down at you, his eyes blown with lust. He reached down and pulled you up to stand between his legs. “Wanna make you feel good too.” You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face. “Not fair for me to be the only one getting what I want, is it?” He tilted his head, licking his lips as he looked up at you, his hands rubbing up and down the backs of your thighs teasingly.

When you didn’t respond, his hands squeezed you. “Asked you a question, lovie.”

You gasped lightly. “N––No it’s––not fair...”

He smirked, reaching for your shorts. “Let’s take these off, yeah?” You nodded and let out a small yeah, and only then did his fingers slip into the waistband and pull the material down your legs. You placed your hands on his shoulders while he helped you step out of your bottoms. He looked up at you, a glint in his eyes as he reached for your panties, again, only pulling them down after you gave your verbal consent. He kept his eyes trained on yours the whole time he slipped them down, and if anything that made you feel more vulnerable––more open.

When you stepped out of them, he trailed his hands up your thighs and along your hips before raising your shirt a bit. “Can you take this off for me?” You nodded and pulled the shirt over your head, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes as his hands splayed across your abdomen, his cold rings contrasting with the warm pressure of his fingertips.

His hands slid up, and he smiled when you let out a breathless please when he asked for permission to touch your newly exposed skin. His eyes finally trailed down past your eyes, widening with arousal when they settled on your soft skin, your pebbled nipples, straining for attention. He rubbed his thumbs over the numbs ever so lightly, looking back up at you when you sighed and arched your back, leaning further into his touch, almost as if he wanted to commit it to memory.

“Look at you, pet.” You whined softly at the nickname and the feeling of his hands on your skin. “So beautiful.” He grasped your breasts and now it was your turn to let out a shaky breath.

He let his hands slide back down to your waist and you pouted, making him furrow his brows playfully. “Hey, none of that now.” He brought a hand up to hold your jaw. “Just realized we haven’t even had a proper kiss yet and you had me down your throat.” You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment but his thumb caressed your cheek soothingly, sliding over to run over your lips gently. “C’mere.”

You stepped into his embrace and pressed your lips against his, your hands coming to hold the side of his face and play with his hair, making him moan into you. His hand stayed at your jaw, the other sliding down your body to grab your ass firmly. Your lips slotted together perfectly as you pulled away and reconnected them softly every few seconds, thoroughly enjoying each other. He licked into your mouth and quickly took control of the kiss, not that you had any complaints, sucking on your tongue and pulling you in closer. He bit your lip and pulled away, smiling when you subconsciously tried to get more of his lips.

His eyes trailed down to between your legs and they stayed there for a moment, distracted. “Gonna let me have a taste?” He licked his lips teasingly, looking back up at you. “I just wanna taste it.” He referenced his song, a small smile on his lips.

You rolled your eyes, a smile on your face as well. “Harry.”

“What?” He shrugged innocently. “M’just being honest.”

“You actually want to? You don’t have––”

“Been dying to, pet. You don’t know how long I’ve been aching to get my mouth on you.” He got down on his knees and the sight of him looking up at you from that position made your whole body shiver.

He placed his hands on your thighs. “What do you say? Gonna let me have my dessert?”

You nodded, letting out a small okay. When you tried to sit down where he had just been seated, he shook his head and stopped you, taking one hand and lifting your leg to place it on his shoulder. Your eyes widened, your mouth dropping open as he placed your hands in his hair to steady you.

He had the audacity to ask, “You good?”

You nodded, dazed. “Uh, yeah.”

“Good.” He smiled and with that he leaned forward and licked through your folds, immediately kissing your clit, holding you as your head tipped back in surprise.

“Shit, Harry––” Your fingers gripped his curls, pulling him into you as he moaned. Of course he was enjoying himself as he pleased you. His tongue was moving with purpose as he lapped up your wetness, spreading it around your clit. He really knew how to use his mouth.

You moaned loudly when he sucked on your clit, and even louder when he used the tip of his tongue to trace on it, realizing what he was spelling out–– H A R R Y. He grinned when he realized you caught on and his fingers were digging into you as he held you up, letting you desperately grind onto his face.

You looked down to make sure he was still okay with all of this, shocked to see him looking up at you, watching your reactions, clearly pleased. You cursed softly. “Feels really good, Harry. Fuck––”

He hummed blissfully, properly burying himself in you, his eyes stuck on your body as he brought you to the edge rather quickly. “Gonna cum in my mouth, baby?”

You whined, nodding your head as you held onto him for dear life. “M’so close.”

“Cum for me, pet. I want it.” He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard, holding you upright as your body shivered and convulsed in his hands and on his tongue. He didn’t let up, fully making love to your clit with his tongue as he kissed your lower lips passionately, getting his light stubble wet. He was making a proper mess but neither of you cared.

When your legs stopped trembling, he pressed a kiss to your clit, then to the thigh over his shoulder before placing your leg back on the ground. He looked up at you, a smug grin on his face as you looked at him, breathless. He stood up, his hands finding their place on your hips and he licked the rest of your juices that were still on his lips, his chin still slick with your arousal.

“Care to clean me up, love?” He leaned closer. “Is your mess after all.”

You smirked before leaning in and licking up your wetness from his chin and up his lips before bringing him in for a messy, passionate kiss. Without disconnecting your lips your turned him around and pushed him onto the couch, taking your seat on his lap, his arms wrapping around you instinctively.

You wrapped your hand around his base, smiling down at him when he pulled away to whine. You lifted yourself up a bit and swiped him through the mess he made between your thighs. “Can I ride you, H?” You asked him, teasingly sweet.

He threw his head back, “Christ, y’can do whatever you want to me, love.”

You kissed his neck and slid him into you, and his fingers dug into you as he let out a long moan.

“God, you feel even better than I’d imagined.”

You tilted your head, starting to bounce and grind on him, “You’ve thought about this?”

“Of course I have. Have you seen yourself?” You were about to push further when he slid a hand down to rub at your clit, making you gasp and grind down on him harder.

“Oh fuck, H.”

He grinned, thrusting into you. “That feel good?”

You nodded. “So good.”

His hand was holding your hip as he bucked his hips into you. How he found your spot so quickly, you have no idea. You tilted your head back and he grabbed your neck gently, making your eyes widen as you looked down at him, noticing the dark look in his eyes as he watched you come undone on his cock.

When he noticed you getting close, he pulled you in to rest on him and your wrapped your arms around his shoulders, whimpering into his neck as he started to fuck you harder, his hips finding a smooth rhythm easily.

You kissed his skin, marking it up as you sat there and took everything he was giving you. He was still sensitive from before, but he didn’t want to finish before you did, again. “Come on, pet. Give it to me. Just one more so I can fill you up.”

You groaned, your lips grazing his skin as your legs started to tremble, your walls clenching around him, coaxing him to tip over the edge with you. Your body shook as you whimpered, your body tensing.

“That’s it, just like that.” He grunted, thrusting a few more times before he released inside of you, the both of you moaning together.

He wrapped his arms around you tight, holding you close as he thrusted slowly, making sure to empty himself out inside of you. You both sighed softly and you sat up. He looked up at you, pure adoration and awe in his eyes, his arms still holding you. You placed your hands on his shoulders.

“Hi.” You smiled sheepishly.

He smiled back, kissing you softly before pulling back to look at you again, his head resting against the couch. “Hi.”

You looked down, deciding to focus on his tattoos, suddenly nervous. “I’ve uh––sort of wanted to do that for a while.”

He unwound his arms to caress your back with his hands. “Mm me too.” He smiled when you looked up at him.

“I really like you, H.”

“Well I guess it’s a good thing that I like you too, then.” He squeezed you playfully. “Would you like to go out on a date this week?”

You smiled, leaning forward to kiss him again. “I’d love to.”

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #sub!harry styles #dom!harry styles #sub!harry styles x reader #dom!harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #dom!harry styles smut #sub!harry styles smut #watermelon sugar #lol

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goldencherryhazz · 3 years

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my stress reliever

Sub!h x reader

Warnings: smut, oral (male receiving) fluff and some swearing

A/N: so the grammys are tomorrow and I am not prepared physically or mentally, so I decided to write a little something to calm myself. Its nearly 2am so there’s probably a load of mistakes! Pls don’t copy my work. Hope you enjoy!

It was the night before the Grammys and Harry had to admit he was feeling a bit stressed but even more nervous, he was so grateful for the fact that he would not only be opening the show, but that he had been nominated for not one, not two, but three Grammys.

When he got the phone call from his manager Jeff he was over the moon and y/n was jumping for joy, whilst hugging Harry, he was also pretty sure he saw a couple tears slip down her cheeks. That feeling lasted for weeks, but now with less than 24 hours to go the nerves had definitely set in and he didn’t know how to soothe them and had been basking in his troublesome thought for the past 40 minutes.

Y/n was currently out shopping for some essentials but Harry wanted her to be no where else except in his arms, they had both become a bit clingy towards each other during the pandemic, they had heard lots of couples break up or get divorces, but with Harry touring all over the globe and y/n having to stay put for her own jobs hey were more than happy to spend months on end together.

When he heard the front door open he practically leaped up from his spot on the couch, rounding the corner to the hallway immediately spotting y/n carrying multiple bags, still clad in a coat and woolly hat, her cheeks slightly red from the cold air even though it was nearly half way through March.

‘Hiya baby’ she smiles at him

‘Hi angel, missed you’ he said fumbling with the ends of his fingers.

‘I’ve only been gone about half an hour H’ she chuckled slightly, sensing he wasn’t feeling himself and hadn’t been all day.

‘Wanna come and help me put some shopping away’ she asked starting to take her hat and coat off, before getting a nod of the head in return his shy eyes making contact with hers. She ventured her way through to the kitchen, Harry trailing his way behind her like a lost puppy, starting to feel a bit calmer just due to her presence.

They then started to putting items in their allocated places in their kitchen, working like a dynamic duo somehow knowing wherever the other was at each given moment. Once the last item was put away Harry folds away the bags and puts them in a cupboard to be used another time. He then stands there in front of her, strands of his hair falling into his face in which y/n reaches out to push them back, he nuzzled into the slight touch, craving closeness with his girl. He makes grabby hands towards her in which she immediately complied and crashed into his warm chest wrapping her arms round his shoulders, fingers tangling into his hair. He sighed deeply in contentness but with a hint of worrysome into the crook of her neck ‘what’s going on in that head of yours baby’

‘I’m just worrying about tomorrow’ he speaks honestly ‘there’s just loads of thoughts of what could go wrong running through my head, and I can’t stop them’

‘Well I know that once you get out on that stage you are going to take it and rock the hell out of it, cause that’s just you and no matter how much you doubt yourself I know you are going to be amazing no matter what happens, and I think I can speak for pretty much everyone when I say that, you’re incredible baby no matter if you win a Grammy or not, I don’t really care about a shiny piece of metal I care about you’

‘But what if I mess up the words to the songs, or fall over on stage or something stupid like that’ he rushes out.

‘Your overwhelmed baby, and that’s very understandable because you haven’t really been doing a lot of this stuff cause of the pandemic, you just need to get in the swing of things again, but I’ll be there every step of the way, don’t need to be nervous H I’m here’ she cooed as he wrapped his arms around her tighter.

‘Thankyou angel, I love you, don’t know how much I needed to hear that’ he whispered kissing her neck.

‘I love you too, no need to thank me baby, that’s why I’m here, I’ll always be your moral support. If you want I can stand at the side of the stage with banners and everything,’ she says manoeuvring to grab a tea towel to demonstrate, she starts to swing her hips around, her body going in a circle with her hands in the air that was gripping the towel, whilst cheering ‘go H, go baby, go H, go baby.’ This made Harry laugh, a real laugh immediately lighting up the whole atmosphere. He swore he couldn’t live without this girl, who was dancing around the kitchen and would probably actually do what she was demonstrating on the side of the stage whilst he performed at the Grammys, because she cared about him that much.

‘There’s that smile, missed seeing that on your pretty face today’ she smiled right back at him, glad that he was happy again.

She made her way back to him, hugging him once again placing a kiss to the side of his jaw.

‘Wanna go upstairs and get all snuggy?’ She questioned.

‘Yeah, sounds perfect angel’

‘C’mon then’ grabbing his hand and leading them to their bedroom.

When they were half up the stairs y/n suddenly spins to face him again ‘you know, if your still feeling stressed I can help you even more, pretty sure I could eliminate all of it’

‘And how do you plan on doing that angel’

‘Oh my beautiful boy, the list goes on and on’ she says almost seductively.

They both knew where this was heading so they start to rush more up the stairs, excited to get to the bedroom, and as soon as they are and the door is shut behind them, Harry is pushed so his back was against the door before y/n starts kissing his lips hungrily, biting and sucking hickeys onto his neck making him groan ‘wanna be my baby boy tonight, just want to love you on you, make sure you’re totally stress free, how does that sound baby’

He whimpers at her words he could feel his length harden at her words ‘y-yes angel, want you to take control, wanna be your baby boy’

In turn y/n whimpers feeling her panties get wetter and wetter, she backed him up to the king-size bed, their lip connecting and reconnecting, the head in the room seeming to go up about 10 degrees, Harry loved it when y/n had her way with him, taking control of his pleasure, making him cum so hard he saw stars, he swore she was magical, the fact that he was worrying about every little thing about 20 minutes ago and now not having a care in the world, he could have been in the deepest, darkest whole and she still would be a been able to pull him out.

She turns both their bodies so that Harry’s would be the first to hit the bed, she was kissing him so hard it was making his knees buckle ‘do you want to take your shirt off and lay on the bed for me baby boy’ she says in which he quickly complies, lifting the fabric over his head, to see y/n doing the same taking her bra off at the same time, making him practically drool at the sight of her perky tits just begging to be played with.

He laid on the bed following her instructions, waiting for her to come over to him, and when she did y/n let out a small moan at the sight of his fucked out face and she had barely touched him, she loved it when he was like this, letting her take control when the roles were usually reversed, she just wanted to make him feel as good as he made her feel, which was pretty dam amazing.

She leaned over kissing his lips, her tongue diving into his mouth dancing with his own, she pulled away slowly ‘what do you want me to do to you baby’ she asked already knowing the answer ‘want me to play with you cock’

He whimpered and nods, his doe eyes begging her to do something about the tent in his sweats.

‘Use you words baby, wanna hear you say it’

‘P-please angel, want y-you to play with my cock’

‘Okay baby boy’ she reaches down to the tie on his sweats undoing the bow slowly, almost teasing him making him squirm and moan out ‘please touch me angel, m’starting to ache’ she works quicker getting the trousers off of his legs before throwing them somewhere in the room, then going back to pull his boxers down his long legs, his cock finally springing free from its confines and gently hitting his stomach.

Her eyes went wide at the sight of his cock, the tip an angry shade of red leaking precum, the thick veins more prominent, his balls looking deliciously filled with cum, just ready for a release. She lays between his spread legs, wasting no time in gripping his girthy shaft in her hand making Harry throw his head back and stifle out a load moan, she smiled knowing she was making his feel good with only one touch. ‘Who’s made you this hard baby?’

‘You angel, only you’ he moans as she starts bringing her hand up and down his cock, her thumb swirling over his sensitive tip making him groan every time. She then brings her head down, making eye contact with his green orbs as he lifted his up, her lips encased his tip before going down inch by inch until she was about half way, Harry let out a prolonged moan, loving the feeling of her mouth in him. Y/n brought her head up after a few more seconds gasping for air ‘taste so good baby, can’t wait to taste that cum though’ he whimpered his legs spreading even more to give her more room. When she reattached her lips to his shaft she starts bobbing her head up and down, taking him down her throat aswell, her hand tugging the rest ‘feels so good angel’ he says whilst gathering her hair in a makeshift ponytail.

At this point y/n panties were soaked, she managed to get a little stimulation by grazing her clit on the rough fabric of her jeans, making her hum in delight around his cock. She brings her other hand down to his balls, rolling them in her palm. She then comes off his cock with a pop, taking one of his balls into her mouth instead, changing between the two all whilst tugging his cock.

‘M’gonna cum if you keep doing that’ his legs starting to shake around her

‘Well that was my aim, baby’

‘wanna have you wrapped around me when I cum, please angel’ he whimpered

And with that y/n was already unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them down her legs, because how could she say no to him, her clit was starting to throb aswell, she smiled knowing that it wouldn’t take long for them both to cum, she straddles him bringing her lips to his once again, he grabbed hold of one of her tits massaging it before tweaking her nipple making her whimper into his mouth. She becomes desperate pulling away quickly before gripping his shaft and lining him up with her entrance, sinking down onto him with ease because of how wet she was. They both let out prolonged moans, loving the feeling of being wrapped around each other ‘pussys so fucking tight, s’like you were made for me’ he moans out, ‘think your cock was made for me too baby boy, stretches me out soo good’ placing both hands on his chest, she whimpers slowly lifting herself up before going back down, making a slow pace. They were moaning in unison the only sound in the room, and small whimpers of ‘baby’ and ‘angel.’ y/n brings her hand down to her clit starting to make small circles, knowing she wouldn’t need much to topple over she was amazed at how fast her orgasm was creeping up on her ‘m’gonna cum baby boy, you close’

‘Yes m’so close, your gonna make me cum so hard’ his legs starting to shake again, one of his tell- tale signs.

‘Cum with me baby’ y/n says not holding back anymore, with a few more thrusts and circles to her clit she was cumming, she whimpered the words ‘baby boy’ over and over, that’s when Harry toppled over he felt his cock twitch and with that he was releasing ribbon after ribbon of cum inside of her, he stopped breathing, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, toes curling, legs shaking practically screaming profanities. He felt like he was on cloud nine, he was gasping for air, a faint ringing in his ears.

Y/n leaned down to his chest kissing a few spots, now utterly exhausted ‘you okay baby’

‘Never cum so hard in my life angel, felt incredible’ he breathes out a lazy smile on his face.

She slowly lifted herself off of him, knowing he would be sensitive before laying down beside him ‘thankyou angel’ he whispers to her

‘What for?’ she asks

‘For making me forget all of my worries, for being my stress reliever, probably would have lost it by now if I didn’t have you’ he says sweetly. ‘I don’t know what I do without you either baby’ she says kissing his lips and then pulling his head to her chest, he nuzzled into her, his long arm draping the duvet over them, before gripping onto her waist.

‘Now go to sleep my beautiful three time Grammy nominated boyfriend, you’ve got a big day tomorrow’

#harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles imagine #harrystylesisgolden #love harrystyles #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #fine line #harry styles is an angel #harry styles smut #harry styles smut imagine #stress reliever #hazza styles #harold #sub!harry

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lucyintheskywithxanax · 3 years

Text

Butterfly Wings In My Heart

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

Requested by @sapphicsarahpaulson “ “can i stay here tonight?” and “i love seeing you smile” for mina x reader? “

A/N: I’m so happy with how this piece turned out. I hope you’ll like it, too ❤️️ As always, English isn’t my mother tongue, so expect a few weird sentences. x

Word count: ~ 4 500

You leaned forward to adjust the purple fairy lights you had just hung to the ceiling, and almost lost your balance and fell off the ladder.

“Careful,” Venable called.

You glanced down at her with a grin. “It’s so nice to know you care,” you sang.

Venable’s jaw tightened as she shot you a look. “I don’t. I’m not particularly eager to have you crash down into me.”

“Then don’t stand there,” you quipped. You leaned forward again, fidgeted with the lights until you were satisfied. “I’m done anyway.”

Clumsily you climbed down the ladder and planted yourself in front of Venable. You couldn’t help the grin that stretched across your face as you met her eyes and she glared, squinting slightly at you, her right hand clutching the knob of her cane.

“Those are so pretty don’t you think?” you said, nodding at the string of purple lights. She glanced up at it.

“Mutt and Jeff asked for red lights,” she said in that deep, cold voice of hers.

You shrugged, looked down at the floor.”Too bad. I thought you’d like these better.”

You eagerly looked at her out of the corner of your eye to gauge her reaction; nothing. You were about to roll your eyes at her when the corner of her mouth twitched and stretched into a small, fond, almost shy smile – and your heart sang with joy.

She didn’t smile a lot, Ms Venable. There were the small, incredulous smiles when someone said or did something that scared her. There were the mean, condescending smiles, like a predator baring its teeth. Those smiles no one was eager to see, for they presaged bad things. Cruel things. They weren’t really smiles at all, you thought.

But once in a while she would smile a smile that was genuine and fond. Those were as rare as seeing the moment a caterpillar turns into a butterfly. What made them even more special was, she seemed to give them to you only. Your heart had stopped beating, actually stopped beating, the first time you had seen her face soften and her eyes light up and her mouth curl up. You had felt so grateful, and so honored, to be allowed to witness such a sight. Since that day you had been starving for it.

It was so beautiful, that smile. So you decided it was your own sacred duty to find what would conjure it every single day of the rest of your life.

Stupid jokes didn’t work. They would only make Venable glare at you condescendingly. One day you asked one of your coworkers to hit you in front of her, to see if it would make her laugh, as you knew that worked with babies. Venable gave you a look as if you had gone mad – maybe you had. Infatuations tended to turn your brain into mush.

You tried to compliment her – you only got a snarky comment or a contemptuous look in return. You tried to bring her gifts, a cup of coffee she didn’t ask for, a book you loved, a lavender scarf you had spotted in a shop window and which had reminded you of her – a polite, if slightly cold, thank you.

And then one Monday morning as you told her about your weekend while she made coffee, she glanced sideways at you and here it was – here it was, the sparkle in her eyes, the curling of her lips, the fondness and the beauty and the colorful butterfly wings that made your heart flutter.

Casual conversations. Just you and her, talking about nothing in particular. Not you goofing around, not you putting a gloss on your personality to try and please her. Just you being yourself. That’s what made her smile.

You had to run to the nearest bathroom like a fool, your chest bursting with emotion. With one hand on either side of the sink you stared at your reflection in the mirror, your eyes wide and glassy, not quite daring to believe what had just happened. You could have burst into tears. Your head and your heart were full of her.

You tried again the day after, just to make sure you had not been dreaming. You walked to her office during your lunch break, leaned against the doorway, asked her a few questions about work. She looked up from her computer and locked eyes with you. She always listened to you with attention, never cutting you off, nodding to what you said, asking you for more details. It made you feel so special, so appreciated and understood. Most people always seemed bored with you. They would start talking to someone else even though you were in the middle of a sentence, or only hum and change the subject, or never raise their eyes from their phones while they had lunch with you. You had grown used to it, accepted it, thought it was okay and normal. No one liked having to spend time with boring people.

But Venable always listened to you. She seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say. And she smiled – oh, she smiled, for no reason at all. As if the mere sound of your voice was the most beautiful, the most charming thing she had ever heard. And just as she liked hearing you talk, so did you: she was smart, sharp-witted and educated. You could listen to her speak for hours.

So today when you had offered to help decorating the room for the dance, and your gaze had fallen on the purple fairy lights tangled in a cardboard box, all you’d been able to think about had been Venable, and that maybe if the universe was kind enough she would be grateful, and maybe, just maybe, she would hold your hand, or stroke your cheek.

“I appreciate your intention, Y/N,” Venable said. “But as you already know I won’t be attending the dance, so who cares if I like the decoration.”

You pursed your lips to hide your annoyance and disappointment. “Are you sure about that?” you asked, assuming a causal expression, as if you were starting a conversation about the weather.

“Sure about what?”

“Not attending the dance. It means so much to Jeff and Mutt, and it’s not every day a company turns fifteen. Besides, you’ve done so much for Kineros, you should come and enjoy the fun.”

“Idiots prancing about all night long isn’t exactly my definition of fun,” Venable retorted.

“What if I asked you to go with me? As my date?”

What on Earth had made you bold enough to ask her that, you didn’t know. But she looked so damn beautiful under the fairy lights with that fiery red hair and those eyes and those cheekbones, you couldn’t hold your words and your admiration back. But maybe you should have, because now she looked mad.

“Excuse me?” she said, her voice laced with outrage.

You lowered your chin sheepishly, heat flooding your cheeks.”I mean… if you want to, of course.”

“I don’t,” she snapped.

Something in her voice, or maybe in the way her eyes widened slightly and her grip on her cane tightened, made you bold again.

“Are you sure?”you asked, taking one step towards her. She held her ground.

“I’m sure.”

You raised one hand, twisted a strand of your hair around your finger.

“Because I was thinking we could go together, and maybe dance together, and when we’re tired of all those ‘idiots’ I could drive you to my place and make you some dinner.”

Venable was glaring at you as if you had insulted her. But then, very slowly, part of her anger melted and her eyes seemed to veil over with an almost wistful look.

“Think about it,” you smiled.

Venable scoffed. “There’s nothing to think about. My decision is made.”

“Maybe so. But can you think about it?”

And before she had time to retort, you leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek, then fled the room before she could cane you.

“You’ve been staring at the same page for half an hour.” A hand, closing around your shoulder; red hair, tickling your neck. Venable leaned over your shoulder and whispered in your ear, “Do you think I hired you so you could waste your time daydreaming?”

You gulped, heat flooding your cheeks, and squirmed on your chair as your whole body tingled and suddenly came alive in her presence.

“I’m sorry, Ms Venable.” Your voice was raspy; you cleared your throat. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Venable hummed. She tapped one finger on your shoulder and blew hot air through her nose on the skin of your neck.

“You’re standing awfully close to me,” you rasped.

Venable smirked. “That’s rich, coming from someone who has no respect for personal space.”

Her fingers curled on your shoulder, nails raking the fabric of your shirt, and then she straightened and left, leaving you with your heart beating madly in your chest and heat pooling between your legs.

Before you left that day, you knocked on her office door. She looked up from her computer and smiled, before she remembered to school her features. Then she glared, and you couldn’t help but grin giddily at her.

“What do you want?” she snapped. “I’m busy.”

“I was just wondering if you had changed your mind about the dance tonight.”

She didn’t even bother to answer you and focused her attention back on her work. You waited for a few seconds, listening to the sound of her fingers tapping on the keyboard. Then you leaned against the wall and crossed your arms on your chest.

“Do you plan on going back home before it starts?” you asked. “I can pick you up at your place at 7, and then we can –“

“What part of ‘I am not coming’ does your feeble brain not understand?” Venable said, raising her head to look at you, her eyes cold and mean.

“Why not?”you retorted.

Anger flared in her eyes. “That is none of your business.”

You waited a few moments, and then said in a quiet, soothing voice, “I’d really love to dance with you.”

Her fingers froze above the keyboard. She shot you a surprised look over the rim of her glasses, and you gave her a warm smile.

Something in her face softened. It almost looked – almost – as if some of her walls had crumbled down. For a moment you saw her as she must look like in the morning, relaxed and peaceful, eyes soft, limbs heavy with sleep. Your heart swelled and fluttered with affection. But then she reached for her cane and wrapped her fingers around the knob.

“I hate dancing,” she said sharply.

“That’s fine. We can still enjoy each other’s company.”

She squinted at you, jaw tightening. “I do not enjoy your company,” she mocked, imitating your intonation.

You pretended that did not hurt. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other and tried to smile again, but it looked more like an ugly grimace. She noticed, and her expression softened.

For a long moment there was only silence. Her eyes were scrutinizing you, dark and unreadable. Just as you were about to give up and leave, she tapped her cane on the floor, making you jump. “You can meet me here at 7:30,” she said. “Be prompt.”

Your hands were sweating. Your heart was beating madly in your chest, as if it wanted to free its way out of you. You smoothed your hands over your clothes, over and over again, as you made your way towards Venable’s office. You had changed into evening wear, nothing too fancy, sprayed perfume on your wrists and neck. The corridors were buzzing with the excited voices of your coworkers, happy, carefree for a night. It almost felt like prom night.

You stopped in front of Venable’s office door, swallowed, took a deep breath for courage, and knocked. The door opened immediately, startling you.

Venable was still in her work clothes, ponytail as neat as ever, face beautiful. You couldn’t help but gaze at her in awe.

“Hello,” you muttered after a while.

Venable shot you a disdainful look. She closed the door and said, “Let’s go. I want to get it over with.”

“Always a pleasure,” you muttered. She didn’t reply.

Side by side you walked to the room where the dance was to be held. It was already crowded with people, people calling each other and waving, people gathered around the buffet, people guffawing and laughing. You spotted Mutt and Jeff in the middle of the room, faces flushed with pride. Two huge pink and yellow balloons, in the shape of a 1 and a 5, hung from the ceiling.

You scanned the crowd, excitement and joy gradually seeping into you. You had always loved parties, always loved the feeling of belonging and of freedom, the heat of bodies all around you. It made you feel strong. You started bouncing on your toes, smiling at familiar faces, laughing as one of your coworkers made a face at you on his way back from the buffet. How you loved parties.

Venable, on the contrary, had tensed up the minute she had stepped into the room. She stood tall and proud, head held high, posture impeccable, but you noticed how tightly she was gripping her cane, and caught a glimpse of the fear in her eyes. Someone brushed past her too close for comfort and she almost recoiled. She was nervous, ill at ease. Her eyes darted from one face to another as if she were expecting a slap or a jeer from anyone.

“Come on,” you said, nodding to a table in a corner. “It’ll be quieter over there.”

As you reached the table, the music started; Blondie, Heart of Glass. Mutt threw his arms up in the air and gave a happy yell. Venable shot him a contemptuous look.

“Are you hungry?” you asked her. “Sit down, I’ll go get us something to eat.”

You threaded your way through the crowd to the buffet, grabbed two plates and piled food on them. You had no idea what Venable liked, so you chose a bit of everything: vegetables, meat, rice, a thick slice of bread. One of your coworkers came up to you and made a few jokes before her partner dragged her to the dance floor in the middle of the room. You watched them wistfully for a few seconds, then made your way back to Venable, holding the plates as close to your chest as you could to avoid they be knocked over by someone’s elbow.

Venable looked even tenser than when you had left her. She was sitting very, very straight, eyes shooting daggers at no one in particular, one hand gripping her cane. You slowed down as you got close and watched her. She looked exactly like an animal, a predator, trapped in a cage surrounded by a curious crowd, baring its teeth every time someone tapped on the bars, trying to find a corner where to hide. She met your eyes, and visibly relaxed when you sat down at the table and handed her one of the plates.

Things got easier from then on. You both ate your food in-between bits of conversation. You had to bend over the table to hear each other speak over the music, heads only a few inches apart. Lights danced across Venable’s face, shadows shifting, sparkles in her eyes. At one point you laughed, and her eyes flicked to your lips and lingered there a second or two. You bit your lower lip, shot her an amused look. She picked up her glass and hid her reddening cheeks behind it as she took a few sips.

Warmth was spreading inside you. You told yourself it was the food, or maybe the music, or maybe the party. You told yourself maybe it was the combination of those three things. But then Venable brought a hand up to her ear to play with her earring as she listened to you talk, her gaze fond and intense; her lips parted in a smile that made joy fizzle in your stomach.

It was her, without a doubt.

You leaned closer and said giddily, “I love seeing you smile.”

She didn’t hear you. The music was too loud. So you said it again, almost a yell. She frowned, narrowed her eyes at you.

“It’s true,” you went on, grabbing your empty glass and pressing it against your mouth to hide behind it, just as Venable had done a few minutes before. “You have such a beautiful smile, but I guess you must hear that all the time.”

Venable opened her mouth, closed it again. There was a strange look in her eyes you could not quite identify. Her hand came up to play with her earring again, and then she raised her shoulders and jerked her head to the side like a child trying to hide the fact that they’re lying. “Thank you,” she said.”I do hear that all the time.”

A man who was waltzing drunkenly almost collided with your chair. You shoved him back into the arms of his friend, laughing. When you glanced at Venable, laughter still on your mouth, you caught a glimpse of her fond smile before she had time to compose her features. Your heart swelled. Beaming, you raised your glass, forgetting it was empty – “To Kineros’ fifteenth birthday!” – forgetting you didn’t even like the company, forgetting everything that wasn’t her.

The music changed. The quick tempo faded and was replaced by a slow melody, a piano and a violin, a deep, melancholy male voice. It soothed your heart and made it ache at the same time. All around the room couples found each other and pressed their bodies against each other and started slow dancing. You glanced sideways at Venable.

She was staring at the dancers with a sad look in her eyes, her thumb tapping distractedly on the knob of her cane. Her gaze fell on one of your coworkers’ face, happy and beaming as she twirled and twirled and laughed. Her partner wrapped one arm around her waist and dipped her. Venable’s grip on her cane tightened, knuckles turning white, and the sadness spilled from her eyes and spread across her face.

You cleared your throat to draw her attention.

“Shall we?” you said, gesturing towards the dancers.

Venable straightened her shoulders, raised her chin and shook her head. “I told you I don’t like dancing,” she said.

You hummed, studying her face. “Then why do you look so sad?”

She shot you a surprised look, eyes widening. You were expecting a mean retort, but instead she stared at the dancers again, and her lower lip trembled.

And then it finally dawned on you. The problem wasn’t that she hated dancing. The problem was that she couldn’t.

You swore you heard your heart break over the music. You had to dig your nails into your arm to stop yourself from reaching out and pulling her into a hug. For a moment you kept silent, and then as the violins swelled and the lights danced on Wilhemina’s face, you wrapped one hand around her wrist and pulled her up and towards the dance floor.

Her mouth opened in protest, but the words died in her throat when you laid one hand on the curve of her waist and used your other hand to guide hers to your shoulder. Her fingers stuttered over your skin, wide eyes meeting yours. You gave her a reassuring smile, brought your hand down and gently laced your fingers with hers around the knob of her cane.

And then you started to sway under the purple fairy lights.

Slowly, carefully, giving her time to adjust, guiding her movements with your hand on her waist. Moving one foot, then the other. In rhythm with the lazy lament of the violins.

Wilhemina’s body slowly relaxed. She found her pace, her eyes never leaving yours, the lights making them glitter. You smiled, and gazed at her as her face softened with gratitude and something else that maybe, just maybe, looked like love. Her eyes lit up as she returned your smile and you swore – your heart was singing louder than the music.

You watched as the sadness melted and genuine happiness bloomed from her smile.

You pulled her closer and pressed your forehead against hers. You felt her breath hitch, saw her eyes flutter closed. So you allowed yourself to sink into her presence, sink into the music, sink into the moment.

And you prayed for the song never to end.

But it did, too soon, too abruptly. Another song started, upbeat and fierce. Wilhemina stopped moving and squared her shoulders. You took her hand, gave it a squeeze and led her back to your table.

She didn’t say thank you. She didn’t have to. The look in her eyes spoke plenty enough.

“Well then,” you said as you pulled up in front of Wilhemina’s house – small, white walls, perfectly mown lawn. You paused. You didn’t know what to add after that.

Wilhemina did not move. You glanced sideways at her, swallowing around the lump in your throat. Every nerve in your body was screaming for her to stay. Maybe you could take her on a drive, find a secluded spot, lie down in the grass and watch her as the stars slowly moved in the sky.

“That was nice,” you said after a while.

Wilhemina nodded. “Thank you for the lift,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” you smiled.

Still she did not move. Both her hands were wrapped around the knob of her cane, and she was staring straight ahead at the trees bordering the sidewalk. Her eyes shone faintly in the dark.

You cleared your throat. Your whole body was tingling with the need to touch her, to be near her, to feel her warmth again. You wondered if you would dare, if you would ever be bold enough. But you had been bold when you had invited her to the dance, and she had said yes; so you would be bold again.

“Can I stay at your place tonight?” you asked.

She turned her head to look at you. A small, incredulous smile – afraid to be hurt.

“No you may n – “She cut herself off. Scrutinized your face. You waited, barely daring to breathe, your heart drumming in your ears. Wanting to be near her, now and always and forever.

“I can sleep on the couch,” you added quickly, averting your gaze. Your cheeks were starting to burn, and you were oh so grateful for the darkness.

Silence. Out of the corner of your eye you saw her reaching for the car door handle.

“I guess you can stay,” she said in an expressionless voice. “I don’t see any harm in that.”

“I have some clean pajamas you can borrow for the night,” Wilhemina said without looking at you.

“It’s okay,” you teased. “I can sleep naked.”

She shot you a look, then averted her gaze again and turned to rearrange a stack of papers on the coffee table, but you still saw it – the soft blush that bloomed in her cheeks. You sat back on the couch, grinning, and folded your hands behind your head.

“So,” you sang, “tonight wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, was it?”

She hummed. She was still pretending to rearrange the stack of papers, so you stood up and planted yourself in front of her.

“Was it?” you repeated, fighting the giddy, smug grin that tugged at your lips. She straightened her shoulders, narrowed her eyes at you. You couldn’t quite decide whether she was amused or outraged by your behavior.

“What do you want me to say?” she retorted, her voice just a little bit raspier than usual. “That you were right?”

She was so close. You took her hand, laced your fingers with hers and kissed her knuckles. Her breath hitched. You grazed your lips on her skin, never breaking eye contact.

“I’d really like to dance with you again,” you whispered.

“But there’s no music,” Wilhemina answered in a breath.

You hummed, slipped one arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “Who needs music to dance?”

She seemed to consider your words for a minute. Her eyes drifted to your lips. She inhaled shakily, then closed the space between you and pressed her chest against yours.

Your breath caught in your throat. Your body simultaneously tingled with life and combusted to ashes. Your eyes fell closed as you pressed your forehead against hers, just as you had at the dance, except this time it felt even more special. Maybe it was the privacy, or the silence, or how warm and firm her chest was against yours. Maybe it was the way she touched her nose to yours, or how, when she let out a breath, you felt it hot on your mouth and you had to stop yourself from capturing her lips in yours and kissing her senseless.

You didn’t even realize you had started slow dancing. You were too focused on her and on the way her body felt against yours to notice anything else. You wrapped both arms around her waist and held her tight, fingers digging into the fat on her hips. A moment passed, and then she, almost angrily, pushed her pelvis against yours.

You stopped breathing entirely.

Every inch of you was burning. She had set you on fire, and you were melting, melting into her, core aching, head buzzing. So then you did the only thing that felt right. You tilted your head, crashed your mouth against hers and devoured her.

She whimpered, brought a hand up to your cheek, pressed herself even closer into you. You were pretty sure by now your insides had turned into molten lava. Her hand slid up to tangle in your hair, and you heard a clang as her cane fell to the ground, felt her other hand press on the small of your back, grip the fabric of your garment, boldly slide down to knead your ass.

“God, Wilhemina,” you whined into her mouth. She was going to be the end of you. She had cast a spell on you and now you’d die if you had to spend a single second away from her. You felt her smile, that beautiful, bewitching smile of hers that had started it all – and suddenly you needed to see it again, so you pulled away, eliciting an angry groan from her. You put one hand on her shoulder to hold her back.

She was breathing hard, cheeks flushed and lipstick smeared, eyes so dark and so predatory it sent shivers down your spine. You ran your thumb over her mouth, giggled when she nipped it. Her lips twitched, and your eyes widened in expectation, heart racing, heart singing – and then she smiled, that smile that softened her face and made her eyes light up, that smile she only ever smiled for you.

#ahs #ahs imagines #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable #wilhemina venable x reader #fics

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

That’s The Way (Chapter 5)

Pairing: Jimmy Page x Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Warning(s): Nothing! This is such a sweet chapter :)

Author’s notes: Another sweet little chapter with Jimmy and Y/N, with a guest appearance from Lillian, everyone’s favourite rascal ;) This chapter was honestly such a joy, and my partner in crime @rebel-without-a-zeppelin is so amazing as always!!! As usual, please enjoy, happy reading, and send us messages if you have theories, comments, music recommendations for the playlist, or if you want to be added to the tag list :)

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

——

Y/N was in the kitchen, washing the dishes as she hummed to a tune she had just heard on the radio. She had just spent the morning baking biscuits, brownies, and all sorts of homemade goodies, and everything was still warm and cooling on a plate on the counter. Lillian’s loud footsteps reverberating through the house signalled that these delicacies wouldn’t be there for much longer.

“Y/N! Y/N!” she shouted in her high-pitched, innocent voice, as her footsteps grew closer. She scurried through the kitchen to stand at her sister’s side, looking up at her with her big eyes.

“What is it, Lil?” her sister responded, still scrubbing a bowl with a soapy sponge.

“I need you to braid my hair,” Lillian replied softly, her smile glinting in the afternoon sun.

“What for? What’s the occasion?”

Lillian’s lips pursed into a grin that she was trying to hold back. “Nothing,” she said in a sing-song tone, her head curling into her shoulder bashfully, “I just like the way it looks.”

Y/N huffed. “I’m kind of in the middle of something here,” she motioned towards the sink with her sudsy gloves; it had been filled to the brim with dirty dishes, though the mountain of tableware was lessening by the minute.

“Pretty please? I just want to feel beautiful like you,” her little sister whined, tugging on Y/N’s clothes.

Overcome with empathetic emotion, Y/N conceded, removing her gloves and turning the sink off. Crouching down to Lillian’s level, she held her hands, gazing into her eyes.

“Lillian, don’t say that about yourself. You are beautiful, truly,” Y/N coaxed earnestly.

“But when you braid my hair, I feel my most beautiful,” Lillian frowned.

Y/N couldn’t argue with Lillian, because she herself had bouts of self-consciousness and low self-esteem. Oh, the joys of being a young girl, Y/N thought, a wry grin on her lips. Ruffling her sister’s hair slightly, she replied, “Go sit at the counter and grab yourself a biscuit then.” Lillian giggled as she scurried over to the counter, reaching to grab one of each baked good from the three plates.

Y/N ripped off a piece of paper towel and handed it to Lillian so she wouldn’t leave any crumbs in her wake, as Lillian swung her feet as she sat atop the tall barstool chair and munched on her biscuit, a mischievous look on her youthful face. Y/N stood behind her, putting two elastics around her wrist.

“What kind of braids do you want, Lil?” Y/N asked, grabbing a nearby pencil to separate a perfect middle part down the back of her sister’s hair then tying off one side.

“I quite like Dutch braids,” Lillian said cheerfully.

“Okay, Dutch it is.”

Just as Y/N separated three strands of Lillian’s hair, the phone began to ring. Oh come on! Y/N thought with a huff. “Hang on a minute, Lil, let me answer this.”

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/N, it’s Jimmy,” a familiar voice echoed through the phone. Y/N’s eyes widened at the sound, a smile creeping onto her lips. There was a part of her that hadn’t expected him to call, though the way her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice only confirmed how happy she was about it.

“Hey Jimmy, how are you?” she replied, leaning against the wall in an attempt to look composed, though she was twirling the cord around her finger nervously, almost combusting from excitement.

“I’m well, love, how about yourself?” he asked, his soft voice coming across as calm and casual, though he was, in fact, not calm at all, unbeknownst to Y/N. His sweaty palms readjusting their grip on the phone every few seconds as they spoke would have been a dead giveaway.

“I’m doing well, thanks.”

“JIMMY!” Lillian squealed from the background, “Tell him I said hi!”

Y/N laughed, “Oh, and Lillian says hi.”

Jimmy chuckled, “I heard. A very enthusiastic little one. Tell the sweet girl I said hello, if you don’t mind.”

“I will,” Y/N giggled before a pause, “What’s up?”

“Well, I have a day off today, you see. I’m going book shopping, and I was wondering...if you’d like to possibly come along...” he trailed off, almost unsure of his invitation.

Y/N’s stomach dropped at his invitation. He wanted her company?! As much as she wanted to jump for joy and scream, she had to suppress her emotions as best she could. Lillian was sitting right there after all, and if she caught wind of her small crush? Y/N would never hear the end of it. All of St. Albans would know, given how enthusiastic Lillian can be. She cleared her throat, recomposing herself before answering, “I’d love to come along! Thank you so much for the invitation,” Y/N gushed, “What time were you thinking?”

“How about twenty minutes?” Jimmy asked, “I’ll have my driver take us, so you don’t have to worry about transportation.”

“Perfect! See you then.”

“See you soon, love.” With that, the phone clicked, signalling the man’s departure.

“What did Jimmy want?” Lillian asked as Y/N walked back over to behind her chair.

“Oh nothing,” Y/N replied, taking three strands of her hair, “just asked if I would come shopping for books with him. He’s picking me up in twenty minutes.”

“Oh, that sounds like so much fun!” Lillian said cheerfully, genuinely happy that her sister was spending time with her friend. She was not at the age to assume any type of budding romance or feelings between the two, much to Y/N’s relief.

“Yeah, I’m excited!”

“Maybe you should give him what you baked,” Lillian offered, “I think he’d like them!”

“That’s a good idea,” Y/N agreed. “Since I’m not going to be home for a while, can you help Mum with the dishes? I feel bad I didn't finish them.” Lillian nodded with a hum as she quietly munched on her biscuit and a comfortable silence settled between the sisters.

Oh, to be that young and naïve, Y/N thought as she finished braiding Lillian’s hair, no stress, no problems, no worrying about boys...

~~~~~~~~

Just as Jimmy had said, his driver was in front of Y/N’s front door in exactly twenty minutes. She put a biscuit, brownie, and oatmeal cream pie into a plastic bag and tucked it into her purse before walking out the door. Butterflies erupted in her stomach as she walked towards the car, seeing Jimmy in the back seat with an open spot next to him.

“Hello Y/N, love,” Jimmy greeted jovially as the girl slid into the seat next to him. The smile on his face felt warm and welcoming to the young girl, easily returning a smile with the same emotion.

“Hi! Thanks again for inviting me to join you,” Y/N replied as the driver smoothly pulled away from her house and started down the road.

“Oh, no problem! I was hoping that I didn’t have to go alone, so I thought of you,” Jimmy grinned. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the way he fidgeted with his fingers nervously while he spoke. Could he actually be feeling as nervous as she was?

“That’s so sweet, thank you,” Y/N responded bashfully, smiling from ear to ear.

An unsettling silence diffused through the car, the only significant sounds being the radio playing softly in the background and the occasional bump in the road. The two, sat close to one another, felt so far away, as the cavernous quiet settled over them.

With a clearing of his throat, Jimmy spoke up, “Did you know that this is the first piece of vintage clothing I ever bought for myself?” he asked, showing off the navy blue military jacket he was wearing, adorned with several ornate gold buttons.

Y/N turned her head to look at his jacket with a grin, “That?” she answered, trying to sound serious in an attempt to tease him.

Jimmy frowned. “Yeah, you don’t like it?” he asked, slight panic bleeding into his voice at her teasing.

“Did you get it at the Embassy or something, to go off to war? Are you assuming the position of a Revolutionary War general, because I’m afraid you’re in the wrong country. And century.” Y/N said, a smile creeping past her lips as she failed to contain some of her laughter.

Jimmy huffed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, it has a lot of buttons,” he admitted defensively.

“Yes it does,” Y/N chuckled. Then after a few moments of silence, she concurred reluctantly, “I like your jacket,” she said with a smirk.

“I knew it, I knew you did!” Jimmy laughed triumphantly, “It’s so cool, right?”

“It is pretty cool, I admit.”

“There’s also a bunch of pockets, so you can fit all sorts of bits and bops in there too. You wouldn’t even know,” Jimmy said with a wink.

“I can only imagine what you keep in those pockets,” Y/N grinned mischievously.

Jimmy’s jaw dropped in feigned shock. “What a naughty mind you have, Miss Y/N! How can you assume such a thing about me?”

“I’ve heard a few whispers about you and Jackie in my day,” Y/N giggled, “things I wish to not get into at this particular moment in time.”

“What did you hear? Who told you?” Jimmy said, an air of panic in his voice as he straightened in his seat.

“I can’t tell you that!”

“It was Jeff who told you, wasn’t it? The bastard.” Jimmy scowled, turning away from her to run his fingers through his hair. The slight tremor that rushed through them made the young woman smile. He was nervous.

“I said I can’t tell you! That’s for only me to know,” Y/N giggled.

Jimmy paused for a second, contemplating his next sentence before piping up, “Well, I should say that Jackie and I broke up actually,” he said quietly, his panic now overcome with sadness.

Y/N frowned, feeling bad for her friend. “Oh Jimmy, I’m so sorry. I can only imagine how difficult it is for you right now.” She draped her arm on Jimmy’s shoulder, hoping her physical touch would comfort him in any way. Jimmy leans into her touch, a sad smile settling on his lips.

“Thank you, love.” he nodded.

“When did it happen, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“A few days ago,” Jimmy continued, “I’m actually in the same boat as you.”

Y/N cocked her head in confusion. “In what sense?”

“Jackie was married the whole time, and I had no idea,” Jimmy replied solemnly.

“Oh my gosh, that’s awful!” Y/N said, “I can’t believe she would do that to you. You don’t deserve that.”

“I guess we were both someone else’s second choice.”

Y/N’s lips downturned into a frown, “Yeah…” she trailed off, “it’s the worst feeling in the world.”

You’ll never be my second choice, Y/N thought, I’ll always choose you, Jimmy.

“I might have a temporary remedy, though,” Y/N quipped as she opened her purse to retrieve the biscuits she had packed for Jimmy. “I baked these earlier, and Lillian said that you might enjoy them.”

Jimmy smiled as she handed him the bag. “Thank you for this, I really appreciate it, love.” As little as the words were, there was a tone of genuine appreciation in his voice. He really must have been going through a dark time. If there was a way she could help, no matter how small, Y/N would take that chance.

“You’re welcome. A baked good always makes me feel better, so I hope it does the same for you.”

Jimmy smiled down at her, his heart warming at her unbelievably kind gesture. Before he could say anything else, though, the driver had pulled up to the book shop; flicking hazard lights on so the two could get out right in front. They thanked the driver and walked into the store in tanduum, arms linked.

“What were you thinking about getting?” Y/N whispered as the smell of aged paper and freshly-cut wood greeted them.

Jimmy gave her a look that screamed did you really have to ask?

“Oh, okay,” She says, drawing out the first word with a subtle laughter in her voice. “Nevermind, stupid question.” Crowley manuscripts and textbooks. She knew that. She cursed herself for not thinking before she asked.

“You’re not stupid, don’t say that,” Jimmy said gently as he rubbed her arm soothingly, walking with her deep into the shelves and stacks of books. They were so close, her physical proximity and presence taunted him, and her scent dizzied him.

Their eyes scoured through the various titles, seeing if anything caught their interests. Y/N saw the trademark bright orange spine of The Catcher in the Rye, and quickly pulled it out. She never had the chance to read it whilst at school, but it was on her mental reading list.

Jimmy watched her intently as she read the synopsis on the back cover, her irises twinkling in the golden light that shone through the store. Her lips, her beautiful lips that he dreamed about kissing one day, were pressed together in concentration. She must have just put some lip balm on, because even they were twinkling. They looked like little pillows, so soft and supple and warm…

Y/N’s face now looked at the shelf once again before glancing at Jimmy with a grin. He prayed that she didn’t see him admiring her. Jimmy simply smiled back as if nothing had happened.

“The Catcher in the Rye, I see,” he initiated.

“Yep. I never got to read it in school, and it’s on my little mental reading list. I heard it was really good,” Y/N shrugged.

“What else is on your mental reading list?” Jimmy asked, “I can help you look for those, too.”

“Hmmm,” she thought aloud, “Marjorie Morningstar by Herman Wouk, Middlemarch by George Eliot, and Summer Crossing by Truman Capote. I also want to get The Fantastic Mr. Fox by Roald Dahl for Lillian. I loved it when I was little.”

“You’re a woman of good taste,” Jimmy grinned, feeling himself falling for her even harder. He had thought it impossible, yet he was obviously proven wrong by the feeling of contentment that settled over him whenever he so much as looked at her.

“Thanks,” she said, blushing as she sheepishly chuckled at the compliment.

The two slowly walked through the aisles trying to find the titles Y/N had mentioned. Jimmy found Marjorie Morningstar and Summer Crossing, and Y/N loved the way his face lit up when he finally found what he had been looking for. Y/N was able to find Middlemarch and The Fantastic Mr. Fox herself, as Jimmy practically drooled upon sight of her when she wasn’t looking. His personal thesis of Y/N being an angel had been proven correct many times that day, but these rather intimate circumstances really pushed it (and himself) over the edge.

Crushes are so foolish, he thought, why am I acting like this?!

~~~~~~~~

Jimmy invited Y/N to go to his Pangbourne boathouse for some tea after their shopping excursion, for a chance to talk in a more private setting and scan through their purchases. He showed her around his house, since it was the first time she had been there since they had met; it was a Edwardian-Pre-Raphaelite hybrid dream, and Y/N found herself amazed with every nook and cranny.

“Next summer, you’ll have to come up so I can take you out on the boat,” Jimmy said as he showed her his boat and the view from the dock.

“That would be so fun,” Y/N smiled, “how often do you take it out?”

“Not too often, unfortunately, with all the travel and studio time.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. I’m sure that will pick even more now that the Yardbirds will be traveling more.”

“Yes, you’re definitely right. But I’ll make time next summer for that boatride,” he grinned as he led Y/N back into the house and into the living room. She pursed her lips to hold back a smile full of gratitude, but to no avail.

His housekeeper must have just put a tray of tea and biscuits on the coffee table, because it was still steaming.

The two sat opposite of one another, taking things off the tray as they pleased, silence hanging in the air. Once they were situated, Y/N daintily crossed her legs with a smile as she held the cup on top of her clothed thigh.

What a sophisticated lady Y/N is, Jimmy thought as he looked at her, I wonder what she would be like in a more intimate setting…

Shaking the dirty thought from his mind, he rambled, “So I’ve been thinking about something...the other guys in the band know about it, and they agree with me...actually, it wasn’t my idea, it was Jeff’s…”

It wasn’t Jeff’s idea. He lied.

It was Jimmy’s idea.

“Oh! What is it?” Y/N asked as she tilted her head in confusion, “It sounds bad, should I be scared?” she ended with a giggle.

“Oh no! Of course not. You see, there’s so much to say, and not a lot of time to say it, so I have to go big.”

Oh my God, Y/N thought, what if he asks me out? Jesus Christ. I hope he does. But he probably won’t. He doesn’t like me. What can this mean? Jimmy, you’re killing me! However, she sat with an expectant look on her face, trying to accurately anticipate the information.

“I was wondering...if um, if you—Oh, Christ, I’m horrible at this,” he chuckled embarrassedly with a shake of his head, a pink flush dusting his cheeks.

Oh fuck, he’s gonna do it! Y/N thought excitedly.

“Oh gosh, don’t be afraid! It’s just me! Really, what’s the worst I can say?” Y/N joked, hoping to ease his obvious nerves.

But it’s not just you, Jimmy thought, you’re so pretty and nice and smart and funny...you don’t know half of the things you do to me…

“Well, I suppose you’re right,” he said, humouring her, “The Yardbirds are leaving to go to America within the next few weeks for the Dick Clark tour, and I—I mean, uh, we, would love it if you joined us.”

Y/N’s breath rushes past her lips with a surprised, almost unbelieving gasp. They wanted her to go on tour with them?! She again had to fight the stupidly giddy smile that would find its way on her lips.

“I would love to! That is so generous of you, thank you so much! I feel like I’d cramp your style though...I wouldn’t want you lot to lose women because of me,” she laughed.

“Most of those birds are nuts anyway,” Jimmy laughed with her, “They’re too caught up in themselves to notice the other people around them. Honestly, in theory, you’d probably attract more women to us.”

“I’m that bad, huh?” Y/N smirked.

Jimmy’s face became even paler than it already was. He didn’t mean that at all.

“Oh no! That’s not what I meant at all! Sincerest apologies, Y/N, I feel terrible. You’re so beaut—”

“I’m kidding, it’s okay,” she cut him off with a lighthearted chuckle, “I know where you’re coming from.”

“Okay, good,” he sighed, relieved. Y/N smiled before an awkward silence settled over the gorgeous tea room.

“So when is this tour happening?” she asked.

“End of October.”

“Wait, shit...I’m in university right now…”

“Oh, you’re right, fuck…” Jimmy muttered, his lips pursed in a pensive line, until he almost jumped out of his seat with excitement, “Wait! I have the perfect excuse for you.”

“Really? What did you have in mind?”

Jimmy smirked. “What if...you said you were participating in a study abroad-internship-sort of program for the fall semester?”

“I’m listening,” she said with a light giggle.

“Say that ‘it’s an opportunity to explore the depths of the cultural renaissance that is the British blues scene, which has indefinitely flourished over the past few years, as well as utilizing communication and leadership skills in a practical environment.’”

Y/N raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, that’s good,” she nodded her head, “that’s really good. I love that.”

“Then all you need is for myself and Simon Napier-Bell to sign off on it, as well as your dean, and you’re good to go.”

“That’s genius, Jimmy!”

“Why, thank you Miss Y/N,” he said with a joking courtly bow.

~~~~~~~~

Y/N, with much pushback from the dean at her university, was able to acquire course credit for going on tour with the Yardbirds. Simon Napier-Bell, as well as other members of the Yardbirds administration, had to come into the dean’s office to fight in Y/N’s favour. All she had to do was take photographs and write a paper on it for the end of the semester.

Not too bad.

The week preceding the beginning of the tour, Y/N was so full of nervous excitement that she could barely sleep. By the time her brother dropped her off at Heathrow airport, people had taken notice of the dark circles that hung around her tired eyes.

“Y/N, you look like hell,” Jeff exclaimed as Y/N got out of the passenger seat of Tommy’s car.

“Thanks,” she deadpanned as she shut the car door, walking to the back to grab her luggage.

“My God, you have to pull yourself together,” he added as he walked with Y/N, “you look like a raccoon.”

“He doesn’t mean that,” Chris called hopefully.

“Well, I’ll sleep enough when I’m dead,” Y/N smiled as she walked over to the group at the sidewalk with her suitcase, “and I guess you’ll have to play ‘Rocky Raccoon’ to serenade me then.”

“If Y/N did, in fact, have to ‘pull herself together,’ she wouldn’t be wearing a floral dress and a jumper to an airport,” Jim said.

“Thank you Jim,” Y/N smiled, “but I do look like hell though. He’s not wrong. I’m really tired.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Why’s that?”

“I didn’t sleep this entire week,” she chuckled, “My excitement for this day got the better of me.”

“Why don’t you take a nap on the plane then, love?” Jimmy asked, “You can get sick from lack of sleep, and we can’t have you sick when we’re abroad.”

“I brought my melatonin just for sleeping on the plane,” she smiled, “and I just took a shower too, so I’m ready to go to bed.”

“Lads, we have to go now. The security line is already awful,” Simon called as he rallied the boys and Y/N together to enter the airport.

Everyone obliged, groggily entering the airport as the road crew pushed heavy baggage carts of encased instruments, monitors, and other electronics behind them. The security line was dreadfully long, but they made it through and boarded the plane with little time to spare.

As Y/N was walking on the tarmac to board the plane, Jimmy caught up to her.

“Where are you sitting? What does your boarding pass say?” he asked, out of breath from running.

“I’m in 10C,” she laughed at his disheveled state, “what about you?”

“10B.”

“Oh, looks like we’re sitting together then,” Y/N smiled.

The two entered the plane and once they got to their seats, Jimmy realized that he had the window seat.

“Uh, Y/N?” he asked, shifting his weight between his feet anxiously.

“Mmhmm?”

“Do you mind if we switch seats and you take the window seat?” he inquired, a sheepish countenance flooding his face.

“Oh no, I don’t mind at all,” she smiled as she sat down in Jimmy’s original seat, “Why do you ask? I think the window seat is so cool.”

“You see, I’m afraid of heights,” he explained as he sat down in the aisle seat, “not to be dramatic, but all the air travel has me fearing for my life.”

“Oh, I see. That’s valid,” she understood, “Planes can be uncertain.”

The two engaged in quiet conversation before the plane engine started with a roar, and the aircraft started to make its way down the runway. Once the speed accelerated and the wheels rumbled, a telltale sign that the plane would be leaving the ground any minute, Y/N noticed how Jimmy’s leg started bobbing up and down uncontrollably.

Hoping to sooth his worries, she intertwined her fingers with his as the plane ascended, sending him a gentle, comforting grin. Jimmy squeezed her hand to reassure her that what she was doing was helping. His spirits were automatically lifted, and his entire body felt bubbly as heat invaded his cheeks.

About a half hour into the flight, Y/N’s eyes were starting to droop, but she was desperately trying to fight off the sleep. She had to stay awake and not look stupid sleeping in front of Jimmy.

Jimmy took notice of her drowsiness, seeing her lightly dozing against the window, as he put a fragile hand on her shoulder. The girl woke up with a deep inhale, lightly grinning at him as if she weren’t just asleep.

“Y/N love, why don’t you take a melatonin now and try to get some sleep?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she admitted self-consciously, “I have to give into it now.”

She took the melatonin with a few sips of the water one of the stewardesses had given to her.

“Put your head on my shoulder so you don’t wake up with a sore neck from the window,” Jimmy coaxed gently.

“Thank you,” she said with a stretch, placing her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes, “‘night.”

“Sweet dreams,” he laughed.

Next to Jimmy, the soft motion of the plane lulls Y/N closer and closer to sleep. Head on his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his aftershave, and something that was so uniquely him, Y/N slept the best she had in weeks.

————

Taglist: @blood-on-blood @reincarnated70sbaby @jonesyjonesyjonesy @jimmys-zeppelin

#that's the way #jimmy page #led zeppelin #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic

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flyboytracy · 3 years

Text

#Earth&Sky2021 - Day 5

It’s day five of #Earth&Sky2021 already, what the heck!

idek what theme I was trying to go for, lighthouse in a storm maybe? But anyway, here’s a flyboy brooding beneath the stars with a glass of whiskey and the weight of the world on his shoulders.

It’s pretty dark on Tracy Island when the lights are out. The whole world’s asleep and Scott should be too but sleep doesn’t come easily to him these days. As a kid he never needed it and even now when he needs it he can never find it for more than a few hours at a time...

It’s too warm by the villa so he chases a breeze to the edge of the island, whiskey glass in his hand and bare toes digging into the sand that gets trapped between the rocks by the storms that batter their little island. There’s one rock in particular he likes to perch on when his thoughts are too loud and his doubts refuse to go away. The runway can be seen from here, as can the little overhang of rocks above Thunderbird Four’s underwater launch chute and the roundhouse that protects the native fauna of the island from Thunderbird Three’s blowback. Scott’s own Thunderbird launches a little way behind him and that was one of the first things dad mentioned when he brought Scott out here to show his firstborn the island he planned to uproot their entire family to.

This very rock represents the beginning of Scott’s involvement with International Rescue. Will there be a plaque here in forty years’ time like the plaque of dad’s footprint on Mars? It feels somehow arrogant to assume he’ll have even half the impact that Jeff Tracy’s had upon the world.

Scott hadn’t been able to imagine it back then, barely a man himself and sat in the shadow of the greatest man he’s ever known. Dad had produced two of the tiny bottles of whiskey from the jet and Scott hadn’t been able to understand why because coming to this desolate little rock in the middle of nowhere had felt very much like running away, and that wasn’t something a Tracy ever did. Ever since he’d been old enough to stand up by himself, Scott had been standing firm against the world that constantly measured him against his father.

He’d taken a stand against anyone who’d ever dared to hurt his little brothers. He’d stood there for hours at swim meets or out on the back garden with Johnny waiting for the skies to clear. He’d stayed with his little brother when Virgil needed to record the light just right and he’d spent hours and hours at the park with Alan so his brothers could do their homework in peace and their youngest brother didn’t feel their parents’ absence as heavily as the rest of them. Dad had disappeared for days at a time and he’d told the guys it was work but he’d been old enough to guess it was alcohol and other things he didn’t wanna know about.

So he’d hesitated, sat upon this rock with a tiny bottle of whiskey in his hand, because he really hadn’t felt like celebrating when mom’s grave was back in Kansas and his heart felt like he’d buried it in the dusty dirt there with her. He hadn’t said anything but dad must’ve known because he’d reached out to tug Scott into his side like he was six and not sixteen.

Dad had always been a giant to Scott. When he was little it felt like he always had to lean back to see him and even when he grew taller, dad just seemed to get taller too. Having one of those arms around him had felt like being wrapped up by the universe and for a few fleeting moments he’d been able to forget about avalanches and detention slips and dinner for four little brothers who needed vegetables and attention. Dad’s hand cradled the back of his head just like how Scott cuddled Alan when he refused to go to sleep and part of the firstborn had broken.

Dad had fixed him, though. He’d told his boy about how the desolate rock was actually an extinct volcano with old lava tubes extending out underneath the ocean for miles around them. For the last year or so that weird nerdy friend of his had been making regular flights out here and beneath their feet lay something very special indeed.

It was going to be called International Rescue and it was going to make the world a better place.

It did and it still does, every single day. With every mission to Mars or London or some random canyon in a country Scott can’t pronounce, the world becomes a better place for somebody out there. A wife gets to go home to her wife or a son gets to show his dad a picture he drew at school because International Rescue saved a life. Not the world, not a country, just a life.

How can Scott even begin to live up to the legacy of a man who could look at a barren rock and imagine making it a home for his five sons and a rescue organisation? Their home had been weaved seamlessly into the rocks without disturbing the island’s ecosystem which had made one of Scott’s baby brothers happy and another had followed the progress of the villa and the hangars below with all the enthusiasm of a budding engineer.

Nothing Scott does could ever hope to live up to the legacy of the man responsible for all this. For a while he thought maybe his mark on history would be to keep International Rescue operational instead of letting it nosedive into the dirt without dad. Most sons would’ve wiped International Rescue from existence after losing their father to it but Scott had kept them flying and for eight years that had been enough.

But now dad’s home and back in charge from the safety of his desk and suddenly Scott’s achievements don’t feel all that remarkable any more when he compares them to his father’s. He’s the firstborn son of Jeff Tracy and he’s capable of anything. He should do more; he needs to be more than this.

But what?

Scott sits on the rock with his whiskey and stares out across the ocean.

It’s beautiful out here when the lights are down and the moon’s out. He can see the reflection of thousands of stars on the surface of the ocean and the moon shimmers at the centre of it all. A soft little breeze sends ripples dancing across the water and Scott can’t help but smile at how peaceful the world feels even though it’s dark.

There’s footsteps behind him and Scott would recognise them anywhere, even without a gentle, “Hey,” and the hand that squeezes his shoulder before Virgil comes to sit on the rock beside him. He’s barefoot too and the plaid’s been replaced by one of those hoodies that looks like a hug. Strands of dark hair have escaped from beneath the hood and Scott’s compelled to brush a couple back into place before tucking Virg into his side like dad once did with him all those years ago. Virgil folds up without complaint and his face disappears into the crook of his big brother’s neck before he heaves a sigh so loud it makes Scott shiver.

A hand comes to rest instinctively on the back of Virgil’s head, fingertips sinking into the soft material as they sit together beneath the stars. For a while he can forget about everything that’s happened since he sat on this rock with dad and focus on nothing but the here and now; the tang of engine oil that seems to follow Virg around like the beach does Gordon. Warmth radiates from the shoulders that’ve helped Scott carry his burdens since dad disappeared and it helps to ground him when he feels lost in the darkness. Even when he hasn’t known which path to take, he’s always been sure that he’ll never walk it alone.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks after a while because it’s not unusual to find one of his little brothers up and about in the middle of the night, but this one had a long day yesterday and they tend to sleep like hibernating bears after the worst rescues.

“Mmm.” little brother rumbles back to him from the depths of his comfy hoodie. The noise makes Scott chuckle, “I keep thinking about Thunderbird Two. She didn’t feel right when I got back from Portugal.”

“You said Brains checked her out?”

“Hmm. He said it was most likely a combination of factors including stress, high winds and exhaustion that altered my sensory inputs and slowed my reaction times.”

Scott remembers his glass of whiskey and takes a sip, “He thinks you imagined it.”

“Nmm.” another tired noise escapes from the depths of the hoodie and Scott’s kinda tempted to see how many he could get Virg to make like a rumbly game of Operation. On the other hand he’s spent his entire life taking care of the guy using him as a pillow and the noises worry him. His best friend needs sleep but Scott knows full well that won’t happen ‘til somebody takes a look at Thunderbird Two.

“I’ll run a systems check to see if anything comes up. We’ll have her sorted before sunrise.” Scott scrunches his little brother up in a hug before relinquishing his grip on the hoodie, “You get the coffee on and I’ll get her opened up.”

“F. A-” the affirmative gets swallowed up by a yawn that nearly swallows Scott too and he laughs as he gets to his feet, keeping Virg with him to stop him nosediving into the ocean because he’s lost more than one tired brother to the pool and the steps down to the sofas.

“I know how to sort it anyway.” he teases as they head for the kitchen, polishing off the remains of his whiskey and leaving the glass on the side to deal with later, “I’ll just give her a real good thump like dad does.”

“You are not using the Jeff Tracy Fix on my ‘Bird, Scott!” Virgil finally manages a full sentence and Scott’s laughter echoes down the hallways.

#Earth&Sky2021 #Thunderbirds Are Go #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #you know the kinda hoodie I'm talking about right #the most virgilist of hoodies #the softest looking thing #with huge drawstrings and a big hood #sleeves just a lil bit too long #a hug in a hoodie

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daydreamsofh · 4 years

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Terrible Love- Part Two

A/N: Ahhhhh hello! Welcome to Terrible Love, part two! I have had so much fun writing this story, and I am so so proud of it, and so happy to share it with you!

A massive thank you to my girl @harryinsweatersandbandanas for just being herself and always encouraging me, and to my sweet friend @dallas-suit-harry for being the best beta reader ever! I’m so lucky to know you, Em! <3

Here we go, again! Feedback and reblogs are always welcome, my ask box is always always open!

Summary: Love, or should I say falling for your best friend has a way of being terrible, and wonderful all at the same time.

Inspired by the song: Terrible Love- Birdy

Word Count: 6k, almost 7k

Part One: Terrible Love

You weren’t proud of what you did. Leading guys on wasn’t one of your hobbies, and you genuinely felt bad for inviting Connor to go to the party with you, knowing there were no hopes of an actual chance of a relationship between the two of you at the end of the night. It wasn’t like you were a villain in a romantic comedy, wheelding your imaginary sword to hurt people on purpose. If anything, you did feel like you were in the middle of a romantic comedy, torn between wanting Harry so badly it made you sick, and all the while being so weary of him and the mountain of feelings you held for him. Although, It was clearly looking like you didn’t really have a choice in being with him, his hands and mind busy with someone else. But still that didn’t stop the aching feeling you had in your chest, and the shaking feeling you had in your hands.

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, however you were convinced that absence from the guy you were embarrassingly in love with, made the heart grow bitter and on the verge of an emotional breakdown at any given second. Harry was normally always on your mind, but ever since he got home it was tenfold. You couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, you felt like you would never catch your breath. You would wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat thinking about who gave him those marks on his neck, who got to feel his lips against theirs, to feel the stubble of his jaw lightly grazing their skin. The feeling of his hands, no doubt a little bit rough in texture from the nights on end of him strumming his guitar on stage, gripping on to their hips in the most possessive, yet gentle way. The knowledge that the smile on his face and the extra swing in his step was from the new flame budding between the two of them.

You were more uneasy now that he was home again, there was no way to ignore your feelings when he was literally right in front of you. You found yourself unable to sleep, yet again, and without having the comforts to lull you to sleep like when he was gone. There was no duvet to bury under that smelled of him, no bedside book’s that have the lines he fell in love with littering the pages to make your eyes heavy, and no air to breathe that he once had. You were awake at all hours of the night wondering who was on his mind and in his heart, the way he was in yours.

Meanwhile, Harry was absolutely positive he was losing it. He was unable to focus on anything for longer than five minutes before his mind filtered back to you. More specifically, your smell on his sheets and throughout the air of his home, he wondered where you had sat and where you had laid your head to rest, where had you eaten your breakfast and where had you taken his calls? He was romanticizing every little detail about you that was now etched into his home. Even the strands of hair that were stuck to his pillow, and the smell of your perfume practically stamped into every one of his jumpers, every little thing. He was even dreaming about you, and he doesn’t need an expert to tell him that that is a clear sign that that was a sign. He loved you, he was sure of it. But among other things, he was also painfully sure that it seemed you had met someone else. When you were so nonchalant about going on a date and then coming back to his house afterwards like it was no big deal, he had never been so cross with you, but mainly with himself.

How is it that he never said anything? How is it that he’s a man who writes love songs for a living and always urges people to tell people how they feel, no matter how embarrassing and terrifying that may be? How is he someone who says “Give Love, Choose Love” so naturally, so afraid to just bloody tell you how he feels?! How is he someone who fearlessly spews romantic advice to those who ask for it, and he can’t tell you how he feels? How is he a man who wears his heart on his sleeve, (literally and figuratively) and he can’t tell you how he really feels about you? He’s known he’s loved you for forever, but now he’s more than sure that he’s in love with you, and that notion, the one that he’s in love with his best friend is the most mind blowing/overwhelming revelation that he thinks he’s ever had. Hang performing in front of thousands of people, this is the biggest rush he’s ever felt. What is he supposed to do now?! You have a new guy in your life and he’s not the type of guy to run in the middle of that and cause a scene, and plus, who knows if you even feel the same way? He’s gone for months at a time, and while his personal life is more private now than ever before, being in his life in that way does require being a bit in the spotlight, and he’s not going to ask you to sign up for that.

But Christ, what if you are? What if you did want to sign up for that? Being his girlfriend, being in his life in a way you never have been before? BUT, you have a bloody boyf-friend-thing. Christ. How the hell did you even have time to meet someone? He had spoken to you nearly every day he had been gone, and he never even got the slightest inkling that there was anyone remotely new in your life. Let alone a dodgy sounding guy like him?! Christ how long had he really been gone? You had been so cheerful with him on the phone, but you always are. Telling him everything was good and that he doesn’t even need to come back because you had made yourself right at home. He had laughed at that one, the kind of breathy laugh that turns into the most dreamy sigh because the thought of you calling his house, home, is something straight out of one of his dreams. And yours too, but that's besides the point.

He felt so stuck in the weeds and he just wanted to grab your shoulders and shake you and kiss you until you were breathless. But on the other hand, you had only just started dating this new guy, so maybe he could still say something. He had to, or he at least had to try.

Every time Harry finished a tour, or the leg of a tour, Jeff was insistent on throwing him a welcome home party. As if he hadn’t just been showered with love from stadiums of people for months on end. You had attended every single one, because if there’s anyone who is best in the category of showering Harry with love, you take the cake. You stood alongside Anne and Gemma for a majority of the last one, in between gazing at him with so much love in your eyes you couldn’t believe you weren't actively crying the entire time. When he cozied up beside you after all of the toasts in his honor, you could feel the heat radiating from him, and then he slipped his hand to rest over your leg under the table. You couldn’t feel your hands when he reached over to give yours a squeeze, and when Gemma and Anne weren’t looking you leaned over and planted a kiss on his shoulder before pausing to rest your head there and gaze up at him. He gave you a lopsided smile, (one of your favorite ones of his) and he dipped down to kiss your forehead.

You had chalked up his touchy behavior to him being slightly buzzed, but for the next week every time you looked down at your hands you stopped breathing for a few seconds.

You were dreading this one though, positively absolutely dreading it. You were mad at Harry, and sad and jealous of whoever he was now mysteriously dating while on the road, but you couldn't not go. You couldn’t not go and tell him how proud of him you were, and it didn’t matter how frustrated you were at the situation, or really at the universe for misaligning the timing of you two, again. You hated to throw the i’m in love with my best friend and he has no idea and has some secret new girlfriend and you just wanted to cry the entire time card, but it was very tempting. You knew that if you didn’t go, that would raise more suspicion and would require further explanation, so you were forcing yourself to go.

There was only a two day stretch from the time Harry got home to the night of the party. You had been nauseous most of the day, incredibly anxious about the fact that you were about to be in the same space as him for an unimaginable amount of time, with a guy who you barely knew and definitely shouldn't have invited to come with you. While you were positive that Harry didn’t feel the same way, you were also positive that you didn’t want to be with anyone else, either. Who knows, maybe you would wind up being an 80 year old woman, single and alone with an australian shepherd mysteriously named Harry. Anything was possible at this point.

You had been more than useless at work all week, and the closer the time came for the party, the more you were thinking of reasons to get you out of going. You could say you caught a cold from the office? Or that you ate some bad chinese food and had a stomach ache? Or… you could just run. Run and never look back, hide out somewhere in Italy and start making hand spun soaps out of your living room? Yeah, you liked that option best.

When you had originally texted Connor and asked him if he wanted to tag along, you weren’t really thinking straight. You had tears running down your face and your heart was rolled into a ball in the pit of your stomach. Nothing felt right and you just wanted to turn the car around and fall into Harry. You had just seen the marks on his skin in real time with your own eyes and everytime you shut yours they were lit up with big bold letters beside them. He’s met someone else, get over it. You weren’t looking for an eye for an eye with Harry, but you also didn’t want to show up by yourself and seem anymore sad and alone, however stupid and counterproductive that sounds.

Connor had texted you back almost immediately, clearly looking to hear from you. He said he would love to join you, babe! Which could not have sounded more unnatural coming out of his mouth, or across the screen. Same difference. You guessed you really had no choice than to go, now.

When the day of the party rolled around, you had done everything in your power to stay at work for as long as you possibly could. Save from actually rearranging your desk furniture for the upteenth time, you dredged home to change before Connor picked you up. He had insisted on driving you, (clearly trying to establish his good guy facade) and you would have rather had him hit you with his car than go to the party. A bit dramatic on your end but you really, desperately, whole heartedly, DID NOT want to go. He could just knick you a little and then you would really have a reason not to go. Wait, were you actually thinking of asking a guy you barely knew to hit you…. With his….. Moving car?! Get a grip! You can do this. It’s not like you actually had to have a conversation with Harry, you just had to show up and make your presence somewhat known. You didn’t have to give a toast in his honor or read a poem about your deepest strongest feelings for him. You could do this. It was just one night. One night of acting like you weren’t in love with him, one night of acting like your heart hadn;t been ripped out of your chest, once night of hiding the love that you felt so deeply for him. One more night of you trying to convince yourself that you never needed to know what it was like to feel him brush your hair back as he kissed you, that you never needed to know what it was like for him to glance at you from across the room and wrap you up in his arms, just because he could, that you never needed to know what it sounded like to hear him moan your name out in the middle of the night.

One more night of you trying to convince yourself that he was so much a part of your heart that it was practically in the shape of an H. You could do this. You could learn how to love him from a distance. You at least had to try.

Connor had volunteered to come by your house and pick you up, which you had wanted to say no to, but you thought it was the least you could do if you were dragging him along to this party with you. You could tell that as soon as you asked him to come with you, and who the party was for, he was more than game to go. Name dropping was absolutely not something you ever did, especially Harry’s name, but when he asked you didn’t see any reason to lie.

The drive to the party had been a quiet one, only glancing at him when you felt like it was absolutely necessary when he asked you a question. You gave him short answers, instead focusing on the car getting closer and closer to Harry’s house. When the car came to a gradual stop and Harry's house was in view, you felt your stomach drop and your hands start to shake. You very sullenly opened the door and got out, wanting nothing more than to bolt down the street on foot.

Connor walked from the other side of the car to yours, and you kept your hands to yourself, crossing your arms before falling in line beside him and walking up Harry’s driveway. You could hear loud laughter booming as you got closer to the front door, and you could only guess that Harry was attributing to some of the sound. You let out a small whimper before almost bolting back to the car. The front door to his house was wide open, adding to the relaxed, and easy going mood of the night. You strolled in with Connor in tow, him closely following behind you. When you glanced back at him he was wide eyed, taking in his surroundings while simultaneously taking a count of every one that was there, clearly not used to being around famous people. The house had a few people grazing in and out, with the majority of the people outside in Harry’s backyard. Lights were strung in the trees and you could hear the faint sounds of Fleetwood Mac playing somewhere in the distance.

You felt like a zombie walking into the party, your heart was in your throat and you were afraid to dart your eyes around to see who else was in the room. Too afraid that Harry would be in your immediate direction and you would be forced to look at him and talk to him and hear his voice. Just the image of him in your head made your heart physically ache in your chest and speed ip all at the same time. You didn’t want to see him, but at the same time you wanted to see him as painful as it would be. You just wanted to lay your eyes on him, maybe from a distance, hiding underneath a table where no one could see you weeping, or you know, something like that.

You were busy talking to a mutual friend of yours and Harry’s when you swore you felt the wind in the air change. As dramatic as it sounds, you suddenly felt warmer, safer, and you could feel a pair of very familiar eyes on you. You shifted your gaze from your friend, and when you turned around you made direct eye contact with Harry. Your pulse was rising and you swore you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. You could feel your eyes beginning to brim with tears before you looked away to (as discreetly as you could) wipe your eyes. You felt stuck in your stance but you couldn't ignore the other feeling pulling at you, almost pushing you over to him.

You were trying to listen to what your friend was saying, something about a new cat of hers, but you couldn't hear a word over your whirling thoughts and your head was starting to become dizzy from your eyes darting around the room trying to find Harry again. You were hot and bothered (and not in a good way) at the fact that he was in the same crowded room as you were now, and you felt like a sitting duck, just waiting.

The selfish part of you wanted so badly to feel his arms wrap around your waist and his voice in your ear as opposed to only in your wildest daydreams. He was everywhere but physically with you, and when you really thought about it, that’s how it always seemed. Always on your mind and in your heart but never in your reach. Always a fleeting, overwhelming feeling that only seemed to grow over time. It grew in every touch you shared with him, in every timid and sometimes annoyed glance, every time you made him laugh and every time you made him grin and shake his head in disbelief at you. They grew each time you innocently fell asleep on the couch together after a night of movies, it grew each time he called you while he was away and you could hear the smile in his voice as he told you about each crowd, and each show and which joke he had come up with on stage that was way less funny than it actually sounded. It grew everyday just because he was Harry, just because he was him, and because you were you. You had no say in the matter anymore.

A hand on the small of your back broke your train of thoughts, you jumped and nervously clutched the pendant hanging from your neck before you whipped your head around to see who it was. Much to your disappointment you were met with Connor’s eyes instead of bright green ones and you were unable to hide the pout that your face immediately fell into, and then the nervous uncomfortable smile that you shot at Connor.

“There you are, lost you in the crowd for a bit! Good to see you again,” he said to you with an awkward smile as he threw an even more awkward arm around your shoulder.

His arm felt like a dead weight draped around you and you felt nauseous at the mere sight of the two of you. Your cheeks were beginning to heat up and it certainly wasn’t at the feelings you had toward Connor, rather at the sight of your friend's eyes on you two, together. If this was the look they were sporting, you could only imagine what Harry’s would look like.

You smiled while Connor introduced himself to your friend while at the same time gently but firmly removing his arm from your shoulder. You let it fall to his side before running your hand up and down your arm, suddenly cold from the strange contact and the cool air rustling through you from outside. At the same time as the chill went through you, you heard a familiar voice directly behind you and your knees buckled. You could feel the heat radiating off of Harry behind you and you wanted nothing more than to turn around and fall into his familiar warmth and smell. Oh god you could feel your throat thickening and eyes tearing, this was not the time to cry with he who shall not be named literally directly behind you, close enough to reach out and touch. Get it together!

You heard the conversation behind you die down and before you knew it you felt the familiar brush of a shoulder against yours and your eyes clamped shut before opening again. You felt the air being stolen from your lungs while his presence practically enveloped yours and you felt yourself starting to sway towards him. You felt your breath hitch before your eyes even met his and when they finally did you practically melted into a puddle at his feet.

“Uh oh-- look who it is! Hi love,” Harry warmly spoke to you before his eyes took in your appearance, looking you up and down.

You opened your mouth to speak and when just a squeak came out you cleared your throat before muttering a very profound, dramatically quiet, “Hi, H” Brilliant. Just brilliant!

“Hi love,” he said through a chuckle.

It was like it was just the two of you in the room, his gaze was warm on yours and his eyes were glossy as he watched you and it wasn’t until Connor broke up the moment with a nudge of his elbow annoyingly against yours that you looked away.

You let out a nervous, annoying high pitched laugh before you coughed and turned towards Connor.

“Um, Harry this is, this is Connor, Connor this is Harry,” you gestured in between the both of them and nervously tucked your hair behind your ear before you started fiddling with your pendant again.

Harry’s gazed dropped to the floor before he solemnly picked his head up and reached his hand out to shake Connor’s hand, and you had never wanted to go back in time so badly, back in time to when Connor picked you up, instead of just asking him to hit you with his stupid car just to get you out of this horribly awkward and uncomfortable moment.

Harry cleared his throat before firmly shaking Connor’s hand (almost a little too firmly if the buckle in Connor’s knees told you anything) and introducing himself.

“Nice to meet you, thanks for,” Harry glanced in between the both of you before continuing, “Thanks for coming out tonight.”

Connor cleared his throat before you could see him trying to make himself taller by puffing his chest out and muttering a less than confident, “So good to meet you, mate! I’m a huge fan of all of your….. Stuff!”

You dropped your gaze back to the floor and your cheeks were positively on fire and when you looked back at Harry he had a dazed, confused and solemn look on his face that you couldn’t quite read.

Harry spoke up before you could think to say literally anything and he stratched his hand up and down the back of his neck, (a nervous habit you picked up on years ago) before he sighed and looked back, only at you this time.

“Well, I’m glad you’re both- you’re both here. Drinks are around back and I’ll be around if you need anything,” he gave you a weak smile and you just shook your head before looking down at your feet again.

It was the most awkward, lukewarm conversation (if you can even call it that) and you felt sick to your stomach- had you two reached that point in your friendship? In your whatever-you-call-this-ship? If you took being with Harry in a romantic sort of way off the table completely, if you learned to love him from a distance, is this what it would be like and feel like?

The awkward silence and not knowing what to say, the knowing glances and not-knowing glances, and the glances where you know what one of you wants to say but you just... can’t? The rubbish timing and people in between you, the aching, empty feeling in the pit of your stomach and your heart. Not being in his life remotely as much as you were, now? You weren’t sure you could do that. No, you were positive you couldn’t do that.

The majority of the night consisted of stolen, painful glances and half lipped smiles and half full glasses. You had listened to the toasts in Harry’s honor and the speeches recounting details of tour life and rounds of applause. After things had died down a bit and you had lost Connor in the crowd of people (thankfully and more than willingly), you found yourself inside the house, wandering the halls and eventually landing in his closet.

It was a strange thing, but his wardrobe always brought a sense of comfort to you. It was big enough to live in and packed to the brim with clothes enough to make you feel oddly safe. Surrounded by the pieces that made Harry who he was and that had memories of the two of you intertwined through the fabric. And out of the corner of your eye you spotted those atrocious white loafers of his, on the bottom shelf of his shoe shelf and you couldn’t help but let out a loud, slightly inebriated, genuine giggle.

“Thought I heard someone pilfering through my things like a thief in the night, should have known it was you,”

You whipped your head around and your eyes raised and settled in surprise, that warm, almost burning feeling in your chest back again, like it was every time you caught him looking at you.

“I actually just came in here to confiscate these god awful loafers from your closet, never got around to doing that when I was here,” you smiled through your nerves and Harry was gazing at you so warmly you could feel the effects of it all throughout your body.

“You know they're actually not that bad, paired with the right pair of trousers they don’t look so grandpa-y,” he chuckled through his sentence and you mirrored a similar, giddy one.

“Ah of course of course, all depends on how you style it, Lambert teach you that trick, huh, H?”

You noticed a blush creeping down his neck and you could feel the butterflies beginning to erupt in the pit of your stomach.

“He did actually, practically his prodigy at this point, y’know?”

“Oh yeah I bet you are- I’m sure you’re a great student,”

He let out a loud laugh and his eyes were crinkling at your joke and he shook his head before he looked at you again.

He moved closer to you and you felt yourself drift closer to him in response.He was close enough to you now for you to feel the heat radiating off of him, and your fingers itched to reach out and touch him.

He raised his hand up to brush your hair out of your face and behind your ear, and your breath hitched before he brought his gaze up to yours.

Your hand instinctively reached to squeeze his forearm before you moved it across his body to rest on his chest. His hand moved from your hair to grab your hand and he held it firmly, proudly against his chest. You were surprised to feel his heart beating rapidly against the back of your hand, and it took everything in you not to lean forward and brush your lips against his.

His voice was raspy and warm when he opened his mouth, “I realy, really missed you. I’m s’happy you’re here tonight. Always feel so much better when I can see you from across the room,”

You could feel the tears pooling in your eyes and you had to divert your gaze to the row of shoes behind him in order for the tears not to pool down your cheeks. You were leaning into his chest and he was holding a firm, but tentative grip on the side of your face with his other hand.

You could feel his calloused fingers resting against your cheek and it grounded you in the moment and at the same time made your heart race faster.

How could he say things, incredible incredible things like this to you, and have marks from someone else on his neck, at the same time?

That thought was enough to bring you back to earth and you cleared your throat before briefly shifting your stance in his arms.

You retreated the tiniest bit and his hands and eyes were following you, and with whatever strength you had left you squeaked out, “I’m really happy I’m here too, H. I can’t even tell you how good it feels to be in the same room as you again,” your eyes fluttered and shut as you managed to get that out and you felt him rest his forehead against yours.

A knock on the door broke you two out of the moment, you could hear the faint voice of Connor (otherwise known as the ultimate moment ruiner) and an ask if you were ready to leave.

You and Harry were still standing there, resting against each other and his eyes were boring into yours and you just wanted the floor to swallow you both whole. Take the both of you somewhere far, far away where no one else can be found.

You sighed before taking another step backwards out of his grip and muttered a very shaky, nervous, “well I, I guess I should go, he’s kind of my ride,”

Harry cleared his throat before he released his grip on you and you saw his smile turn into a frown before he said, “oh yeah- of course love. I’ll, I guess I’ll see you soon? Thank you f’comin,”

He leaned down to kiss your forehead and you let out the tiniest, hopefully inaudible whimper and you took his hands in yours and gave them a good squeeze before turning away from him.

Heart in your throat and partially in the pit of your stomach you made your way out of his closet and down the hall, where Connor was waiting for you with a giddy grin. He was chit chatting with one of the sound engineers that works on tour with Harry, assuming that was where his good mood was coming from. You watched them say goodbye and when you turned to open the door to leave you couldn’t help but let out a confused, albeit relieved laugh.

You had brought Connor here feeling terrible of giving him the impression you were leading him on, and here he was meeting someone totally new. You were halfway down the driveway when you saw him turn around and wave goodbye to her yet again before you stopped yourself completely.

Wait a minute- wait a minute- wait a minute-wait a minute! If an absolute emobossil of a guy like Connor could meet someone at a house party where he knew literally no one, who's to say you were wrong about how you thought that Harry felt about you? There weren't exactly any rules to love, not any that made sense anyway. Who’s to say that Harry doesn’t feel the exact same way about you, as you do him?

Who’s to say that he’s not as ridiculously, overwhelmingly, annoyingly, dramatically as in love with you, as you are him? You weren’t sure, but you had to find out.

Connor stopped once he realized you weren’t following him anymore, and he turned his head to look at you before walking backwards to catch up to you.

“Did you forget something inside?” he asked you with a quirk to his brow.

You laughed before answering him, “you know what? I actually did. I’ll go back in and get it and just get a car from here, don’t worry about me!”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting.” he said to you before looking behind you to peer at his new friend again.

“I’m positive, plus it looks like someone else is waiting for you, go on,” you smiled before glancing behind you and waving.

“Are you sure?” he asked without even looking at you and you just shook your head.

“I’m more than sure, go on,” you smiled at him again and gave his shoulder a friendly, reassuring squeeze.

And with that you sprinted back into the house and left Connor on the sidewalk to catch up with his new friend.

When you got back into the house there was no one inside, just the aftermath of a usual houseparty- empty bottles of alcohol everywhere and balloons and streamers littering the floor of Harry’s foyer.

You didn’t see him in the kitchen or the living room, so you ran back down the hallway to the wardrobe you left him in. You burst through the door without knocking and sure enough, there he was sat on the ground picking at the carpet on the floor of his closet.

His eyes shot up at you and he jumped to his feet.

“What are y-”

He was cut off by you lunging at him and you gripped the collar of his shirt before tugging him down to where he was eye level with you.

“Love, what are y’doing,” he asked you while rested his forehead against yours, panting at your close proximity.

“Shh, please I need to say this,” you shakily started.

“Harry, I-- oh god I can’t believe i’m saying this, I-,”

“Wait wait, no I need t’say somethin’ first,” he countered when you failed to get the words out.

You took a shaky breath in and you could feel the warmth of his body pulling you in further towards him.

“I love you, I love you, I- m’so in love with you. Please tell m’you don’t love him, please tell me i’m not too late, that we’re not too late,”

You felt your face drop in shock and as dramatic as it was you thought you were going to pass out face first on the very plush carpet of his closet.

“You-you what?!” you practically shouted at him. Your fingertips were burning as you gripped his shirt tighter and you felt like your heart was going to physically beat out of your chest with how loud it was pounding in your ears and against your ribcage.

“I love you, I mean it, I truly, truly do. M’going out of my mind. Please y’can’t leave with him, I can’t be without you any longer,”

“Harry , I-” you started, only to be cut off again by his stammering.

“M’sorry it took me so long t’say but god I mean it, I love you. I’ve been going out of my mind since I got home, I see you everywhere here. You’re in every room I go into, and every corner that I look. I’m better when you’re here, I’m more-- I’m just better. Please, I just, I love you, you have t’believe me,”

When you didn’t say anything back in response Harry took that as his cue to back away but instead you gripped on to him even tighter.

It was suddenly a lot hotter in his room and you were full on shoulders raised and fingers shaking panting, and there were streams of tears rolling down your face.

“You what?!” you shouted at him in disbelief, again.

He laughed before shaking his head at you, “Do you need me to repeat all of that to you again?”

Your only response was to pull him towards you the rest of the way and to slot his lips against yours. The kiss started languilly and Harry was cradling your face in his hands to keep the both of you steady. His lips were so soft and gentle against yours, and you could feel the faint tugging of the remnants of facial hair against your skin and you melted into him.

Your lungs were starting to burn and when you physically couldn’t keep kissing him you broke away from his lips and rested your head against his chest.

You were both panting and when he muttered your name to get you to look at him, you couldn’t help but look up at him with watery eyes.

While this was a mind blowing revelation and you were 50% sure you were dreaming, you got sight of the stupid marks against his neck and you had to finally ask where the hell those came from.

You pulled him to you again, and snaked your arms around the wide expanse of his shoulders. You ran your (albeit shaky) fingers down his neck until you brought your eyes to meet his again.

“Who, who gave you these?” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Harry looked down at your hands, “Gave me what?”

“What do you mean, ‘gave you what’?! Who gave you these marks?”

“What marks? Love these are from my stupid guitar strap,”

His guitar strap?! His stupid stupid fucking guitar strap?! That was why you had been breaking into sobbing fits for the past two weeks?!

“Are you- are you serious?! That’s why i’ve been crying at the drop of the hat every second since our call a few weeks ago?!” you shook your head and laughed, “I thought someone, I thought you had met someone, and you know…..”

“Absolutely not love. Don’t really have the time for that when i’m on the road, not like i’ve really been interested in that lately to begin with,” he gestured to you and you sputtered out a laugh.

“Okay, well if we’re admitting stuff I guess I should tell you, I’m not with him, Connor. We’ve never been together. I barely know him. I just drugged him here tonight so I wouldn’t be here alone…”

Harry dropped his head in relief before pushing his hair back from his forehead, “Oh thank god,” he muttered from behind his hands.

“Does that mean that you…..” he started.

“I love you, I love you, I absolutely love you, H. You’re my favorite person in the world, I love you, I always have. I’ve always been here,”

Harry lunged forward and slotted his lips against yours again, that was an answer all in itself.

When you broke apart finally Harry spoke up before resting his forehead against yours.

“From here on out, let’s just be honest with each other, yeah? Would have saved a lot of trouble if we’d just said how we felt from the start,”

You simply nodded before pulling him into you and nuzzling your face in his neck.

You stood there for a few moments, just basking in this new feeling of love and sureness that you had between the two of you. Your lips started to quirk and you raised your head from his neck.

“If we’re being completely honest here H, you have got to get rid of those terrible, terrible shoes,” you said it with a serious face before you burst into laughter.

He laughed a bug, genuine laugh before resting his hands on your hips.

“I guess that can be arranged, love,” he rolled his eyes playfully and you batted at his chest.

What a terribly fun love this was going to be.

#waaaah i hope you all enjoy!!!!!#terrible love #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry fluff #oh the yearning #brb going to cry forever now

220 notes · View notes

unabashegirl · 4 years

Note

This is gonna be really confusing lol but I’ll try it out! Could you do one where the reader has never seen David’s vlog but she works for him makes it a priority to make you watch them so he goes to your house and makes the reader watch them and he kisses her or something because he was just in love with her the whole time! It kinda sucks but I thought I could try!!

Not confusing at all! I changed a few things around and added some. I hope you like it! Let me know!

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CHEESECAKE

masterlist

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

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David watches her from the other side of the room, simply captivated by her effortless beauty. Tonight, she looks exceptionally beautiful against the warm, dim candlelight of the restaurant. She looks straight out of a magazine; out of the entire table is she who stands out. She rarely wears her hair up, but tonight is the exception. Her hair is pulled back into a delicate, low bun. She wears small, shiny earrings that give her a touch of elegance and poise. She bears a tight, rose dress that makes him nervous — in a good way.

“You got something right here” Her head is thrown back, her lips are parted in mid-laugh when Ilya interrupts David from gawking at her. David looks down at his lap and picks up his cloth napkin and wipes the corners of his mouth.

“What is it?” David asks confused as he looks at the residual.

“Drool. You are drooling for her” Ilya rolls his eyes at his best friend. His behavior is absolutely outrageous. Ilya still can’t understand how his overconfident friend refuses to ask the girl out. It’s been almost a year since she had started working for him. “Just talk to her or invite her on a date. Just do something!”

“She is my employee, Ilya. Also, she probably has a boyfriend” Natalie turns on her chair, it’s her time to butt in.

“She is single. She has been for quite some time” Ilya smiles at Natalie across the table. “Just ask her out. We are waiting for you to do something”.

“That doesn’t change the fact that she is my employee” David treats people like their friends before anything else.

“Who cares? You have never set boundaries for any of your employees and now that you like a girl you want to? — Do you think that’s fair with yourself?” David sights understanding what his friend is implying “You treat Natalie like she is your sister, not your employee”

“I think you have to treat yourself with more kindness, David. You are always making everyone around you happy, but what about you? You also deserve some happiness and if being with Y/N is going to bring you that then do it!” David nods along with everything that Natalie is saying, but he can’t tear his eyes from Y/N.

Her lips are wrapped against the border of the glass of white wine that she has been enjoying throughout dinner. She softly places it on the table before leaning over, resting her head on her hands with her elbows on the table. Her eyes scan the people at the table with a small smile still very present. She is taking in the moment, this is what she loves the most about her job. The fact that everyone is so close to one another; makes her want to keep working until she is seventy. It has been her greatest pleasure. As her eyes finally reach the end of the table, they land on him. Her smile grows at the sight of him, she lightly waves at him from her seat.

David smiles back and waves back as he continues hearing the pep talk that Natalie and Ilya are giving him. Before he can mouth anything at her, he watches her yawn making his heart swoon at her adorable expression while doing so.

“Tired?” He mouths at her from the other extreme of the table. Her eyes are watery from the big yawn, so she has to blink a few times to finally see what he is trying to say. She nods back at him while continuing to smile.

“Dessert?” He mouths back hoping that she will offer to have some with him and they would finally have some alone time.

“Maybe to go?” Now it’s his time to nod back at her.

“Are we ready to go?” Zane asks loudly interrupting everyone’s conversations including David’s with Y/N. “I want to go partying!” He raises his hands in the air and shakes his hips at Corinna that sits at his left.

David takes that as a clue to ask for the bill. It only takes them a few minutes to gather the credit cards and sign vouchers. David is the first out of the restaurant followed by Natalie and Ilya. They hand their valet tickets and stand around by the door, trying to coordinate the rides to the club.

“Stassie, Madison, and Kelsey are coming, Dave,” Jeff confirms as he scrolls through the messages with them.

“Oh, this is going to be good!” Zane claps his hands, “Who is coming from here anyway? Actually — who is not coming?”

Y/N’s hand goes up in the air making everyone turn their attention her. David instantly frowns as he steps forward, closer to her.

“Why not? You look fucking hot in that dress” Corinna is the first to protest as she grabs her hand. “We are going to have so much fun” she wines, they have grown close since Y/N has started working.

“Maybe next time — I am very tired. I had a killer workout today and I might have just eaten too much” Corinna pouts and pulls her into a hug.

“I’ve had one of those days and you know what helps? — alcohol!” Jeff insists as he crosses his arms. He is not convinced. Y/N rarely goes out clubbing with the squad. There is always an excuse for her not to go.

“Why don’t you ever want to hang out with us? Are we not fun?” Toddy asks from behind Y/N. She looks down at her feet as her cheeks get flushed by the attention that she is getting.

“Just come for a few minutes. You don’t have to stay all night” Heath inputs, David remains quiet as he watches her begin to get uncomfortable by the pressure that everyone is putting on her.

“Ok! Enough! She said she doesn’t want to go. Stop pressuring her” David comes into the rescue. Y/N smiles kindly at David. “Do you have a ride home?” He ignores the back talk and mumbles from everyone.

“I’ll take an Uber home,” She says with her gentle and soft voice that is music to his ears.

“Absolutely not. I am taking you home and not buts” Everyone reminds quietly as they stare at them interact.

“But David—”

“ I said no buts, Y/N” His voice is demanding and stern. She shuts her mouth and swallows back her response. As in a queue, David’s Tesla is pulled in.

“Are you coming, David? After you drop Y/N off?” Ilya asks as he steps to the front while David tips the valet and unlocks the car.

“Yeah” He walks to his side after the doors of the car have risen. Y/N waves at everyone and follows after him. It’s the first time that she ever sits on the front seat of the carr. David usually has Natalie or Taylor in the front. She quickly buckles herself in as the doors lower and shut close.

“Thank you for taking me home, David” She is quite nervous. She has never ridden in a car — alone with him. She can also sense some kind of tension.

“Why aren’t you going?” He blurts out, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. David knows that she is lying. David has observed her for far too long to notice how her mannerisms change when she is lying. She looks down at her lap and shakes her head.

“I am actually tired” There it is — another lie. The tone of her voice changes and she gets fidgety. She also avoids eye contact at all costs. “Maybe next time,” She says under her breath.

“I hope so. You aren’t missing much. Either way, you’ve seen it on the vlogs” David rests his arm on his door and drops his hand lower on the wheel, getting in a comfortable position. There is no rush to get to her house. She bites her lip and pulls back a thin strand of hair that has escaped from her bun.

“I’ve actually never seen the vlogs” Y/N reveals, feeling ashamed and kinda embarrassed. She has obviously seen the raw material when David is running around with the camera on his hand. But she has never seen the final cut.

“Wait — What?” His head snaps her way, he wants to look directly into her eyes just in case she is lying. He looks at her for a few seconds before looking back at the road. “There is no way. I feel kinda offended, Y/N”

“I am sorry. I just haven’t come around to it” She bites her lip as she plays with her rings.

“This has to change. You have to watch them all — from the very beginning,” David sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “You’ve got some homework to do tonight” She giggles and nods.

“Alright. I’ll get to it” David runs his fingers over his lips trying to hide the wide, silly smile that he has persisted since the moment that she had gotten in the car.

It’s all very silly to him. He has turned down and pushed away many girls. Beautiful women that hundredths of men desire, but for him, they didn’t seem authentic enough. None of them have ever been able to capture his heart, mind, and soul as Y/N has in the short moment that she has been in his life.

He doesn’t know how to act around her. David also doesn’t know if she feels something for him too. When it comes to flirting Y/N’s isn’t very evident. This is the reason why David has delayed confessing his feeling to her for so long. He doesn’t know how she is going to react. What if she doesn’t like him? And she quits because she can’t stand the pressure? What is he going to do then? He rather not tell her and have her around forever than losing her and never seeing her again.

“Thank you again, David,” She says as he pulls up into her apartment complex. “You are too kind and I promise I’ll watch the vlogs”

“There is no need to thank me, Y/N. It’s been a pleasure” It really has— for him at least.

“Have fun tonight” She unbuckles herself and gets out of the car. Y/N gives him a perfect view of her long, tan legs when she shuts the door and walks into the lobby. He sights loudly in the car and presses his forehead against his wheel after she steps on the elevator and disappears from his sight.

“Fuck” He says to himself.. David lets go of the break and pushes on the gas.

Y/N turns on all the lights of the apartment as soon as she gets in. She hates the darkness. She also wasn’t planning in roaming the apartment in complete darkness when she hasn’t memoried the placement of the furniture. Y/N has just moved in. David pays her much more than her previous job, granting her the opportunity and luxury to move in a more comfortable apartment. It’s still a bit small, but she is only one, the doesn’t need that much room anyway. She throws her keys on a glass table by the entrance. She bents down and undoes her heels. The cold floor against the warm sole of her feet instantly reliefs her. She hates wearing shoes within the house. Therefore, she settles them right by the front door; reminding herself to pick them up tomorrow.

Just as she sits on the couch and unties her hair —the doorbell rings. Y/N frowns and cautiously walks up to the door.

“Who is it?” She asks as she stands on her tiptoes and tools into the peephole to be sure that it isn’t a creepy person.

“It’s David!” Y/N is taken back by his reappearance. She already believed him to be at the club, drinking with everyone and partying. David stands behind the door and patiently waits for her to open the door.

“Hi” She greets him with a wide smile like she hasn’t seen him tonight. “Come in” She opens the door wider for him to walk in. David nods and steps in before she shuts the door and locks it. “Is everything okay?” She is rather confused.

“I don’t believe you’ll watch the vlogs so I am here to supervise that the work is done correctly” Y/N nods at him with a small smile. “If that is okay with you” He doesn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable so he first tests the waters.

“Okay then! Even better. I’ll love some company. Let me just change out of this dress. I’ve eaten too much and it’s become unwearable” David chuckles before she disappears down the hall. He exhales loudly; relieved that she has accepted him in. He had sat in the car for at least fifteen minutes trying to come up with an excuse to spend more time with her. David notices the small pile of shoes by the entrance so he slips his off.

He looks around the apartment, interested in seeing the other side of her that she keeps private. There are a few pictures of her with her family. A particular frame makes him smile, is the one of her with the entire group, including him. The picture sets right by the TV on a shelf of her build in media center next to a little cactus on a plant pot. He can remember the day that the picture was taken as clear as the day. She had been pranked as part of initiation to the squad. Unfortunately, the prank had made her cry and he had promised her and himself to never prank her ever again. That’s the day he noticed that he was genuinely infatuated by her.

“Hey” Y/N walks out wearing a pair of grey sweat pants and a clickbait hoodie. “Would you like something to drink?”

“We never had dessert,” David says, craving something sweet— perhaps her.

“That’s right” She purses her lips as she thinks about what she can she quickly make for them. “I think I have the perfect thing” She has been saving it for her own indulgence, but she could share it. She quickly shuffles into the kitchen as David walks up to her couch and settles down. “Are you not going out tonight?” Y/N says from the kitchen as she opens the fridge.

“I don’t think so”

“Why not?”

“I would much rather be here with you than in some club” She almost drops the spoons on the counter. Y/N smiles widely and refrains from doing a little dance. She grabs the brown box and spoons and heads back. She places the box on the coffee table and hands him a spoon.

“What is it?” David asks as he leans forward, curious to what it contains.

“Hershey Chocolate Cheesecake” It’s her favorite. She rarely buys t it because she easily gets hooked and she has been trying her best to watch her figure and live a healthy lifestyle in all aspects. She has even started joining the boy’s beach workouts and hikes. There hasn’t been a gloomy day that they haven’t uplifted her.

David had heard about her joining the workouts too. At some point, in his desperation, had considered joining just to see her and spend some more time with her. Unfortunately, his tight, busy work schedule prevented him to make it.

David is the first to taste it. He can instantly taste why she likes it so much. It’s the perfect combination of sweet and salty. The cream cheese and chocolate complement one another. It also has different types of chocolates including dark taking a bit of the cloying away.

“Do you like it?” She asks after a few more mouthfuls. Y/N feels like she is sharing this big intimate secret about her. Sure — she works for him and spends most of her day around him, but he has never been introduced to her little world. She knows his world perfectly, every single crook and dent, but he is oblivious to hers.

“It’s delicious” He manages to say as he leans back on the couch. He takes the time to admire her attire and comfort. She is more relaxed and laidback than earlier. He also can’t ignore his urge to pull her into his arms and cuddle her for the rest of the night. “About the vlogs”.

She stops herself from taking another bite from the dessert and switches on the TV. As soon as she opens her Youtube, his face pops out in her recommendations.

“Should we start from the beginning or backward?” Y/N’s eyes scan quickly the titles of the vlogs. Some instantly call her attention more than others.

“Whatever you’d like” He could care less about the vlogs. Truthfully, it is all an excuse for him to spend time with her. It’s refreshing to know that she hasn’t seen them. She is clean and untouched. She has a clean slate of him. Her view on him isn’t influenced by outside media. She only knows him like David, the guy she works for and not the man that buys his friends expensive cars — thanks to SeatGeek.

Y/N clicks on the latest one before leaning back. She scoots a bit closer, searching for some warmth. David doesn’t mind, he finds it comforting. She leans over him and for a second he is confused. Then she pulls a grey fluffy blanket to cover them both as they enjoy dessert and some comedy.

Quickly, chuckles, giggles, and laughs erupt within the apartment. David keeps an eye on her as she excitedly watches the vlogs. Her eyes widen with surprise at every single bit. They roughly watch ten vlogs before she stops it and turns her attention to him. She shifts her body on the couch and faces him.

“Did you always know you wanted to do this?” She asks as she leans her head against the hand that she has prompt up against the cushions of the couch. David shifts on his spot just to face her too.

“No, not really. I didn’t think I could make a living out of this” She is close enough to him that she can smell his cologne and aftershave. “I have a question for you now”

“Shoot” Y/N eyes met his as they both lean against the cushions, completely captivated by their talk.

“Why didn’t you want to go out with us tonight?” She smiles weakly, biting the inside of her cheek, battling deciding if she should tell him or keep it to herself. She exhales and runs her hands through her hair.

“The girls,” Y/N says trying to lead him to the reason without saying it out loud.

“What about them?” His head hangs on the side as he squits trying to piece everything together.

“They are just all over” She mumbles, breaking eye contact with him.

“All over what?” He leans in trying to comprehend what she is trying to imply and say.

“Over you. They are always all over you” Y/N blurts out, covering her blushed face with her hands. That’s when it all came together for David. She does have feelings for him. She is just so much better at hiding them than he is.

Meanwhile, Y/N is embarrassed and ashamed that she just basically admitted to being jealous of the other girls. She wants the ground to swallow her whole and just disappear. That’s when she feels his long fingers wrapping around her wrists.

“Look at me Y/N” He uses the same voice he used at the restaurant. There is no hesitation or room to object. Y/N relentlessly lowers her hands and meets his eyes. His hands release his grip on her wrists and move up to her face. He holds her delicate face in his big hands as he stares into the eyes that have made him lose sleep for quite some time. He leans in and lightly brushes his lips against hers. She shuts her eyes, absorbing all the different feelings that he has managed to develop within her. David plants the first peck on her lips, it’s delicate; soft; gentle. It’s painfully slowly followed by another to which Y/N responds to. Just like he has imagined it for so long, her lips are gentle and pillowy. She is more than what he has imagined. He properly kisses her, one of his hands grab her by the back of her neck, intensifying the kiss. Whilst his other hand, he presses against her lower back.

He kisses her slowly not wanting for the moment to ever end. David can’t believe that he has waited so long to do this. He regrets waiting for so long. He pulls back and pecks her lips a few more times as they both recover from the intense kiss.

Her cheeks are painted crimson red. She doesn’t know what to do or say. She only hopes that she isn’t dreaming and if she is then she hopes that she never wakes up. David’s fingers gently caress her cheek as he looks at her trying to come up with the right words.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that” Y/N smiles at him, “I am sorry it took me so long to make a move” He feels the need to apologize. “I’ve liked you since the first day”

“Good because I have too” David grins before pulling her back into another breathless kiss.

176 notes · View notes

creepy-spooghetti · 3 years

Text

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 10 - Tag, You’re It

_____

Jack doesn't return for several minutes, though she can hear the sound of muffled talking from the confines of another room nearby. The words are incoherent and muffled, but considering that there's nobody else in this house that she knows of, she guesses that he's on the phone, mostly based on the fact that the only voice she can hear is Jack's. She ponders what he said to her and tucks her knees into her chest, trying to tame the steadily rising fear that's making itself more and more apparent in her chest.

She knew from the beginning of all this chaos that there had to be a deeper meaning buried beneath the surface, even though she didn't want to acknowledge it and instead opted to come up with valid explanations for everything that happened, reasons that wouldn't make her seem crazy. But now? Now, it doesn't look like she has another option but to accept it. She has to admit, Jack made some pretty reasonable points, even if the points in question take a great suspension of disbelief. How else is she supposed to explain the things that have taken place over the past several days? She didn't have a clue about what was happening and why it was happening, and now she does. But is it the honest-to-God truth?

Being stalked by some supernatural being is definitely hard to believe, but so is mentally predicting the death of one's aunt and uncle, being kidnapped by someone without eyes, and subconsciously drawing some kind of freaky symbol. She hasn't another explanation for all of the eerie occurrences lately, what else is she supposed to think? At least she's been provided with an answer—whether that answer is correct or not has yet to be solved—but it's still an answer. It's more information than she could ever get out of her grandparents or anyone else. A therapist probably wouldn't even know what's going on with her. This way, she has a theory to go off of, something to build around until she finds something more... realistic. More believable.

Her eyes flick up to Jack as he re-enters the room, being ultimately pulled from her deep thoughts and watching him stuff, what she identifies as a phone, into his pocket. He turns her direction, his uncanny oozing gaze sending goosebumps up the length of her arms. "There will be someone over here in a bit to pick you up and take you to Brian's house. She's bringing a pair of shoes with her, too."

Oh, it's a girl. Maybe I can find some common ground and convince her to let me go. Unless she's trapped here too... She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and sits more naturally in the chair, her feet meeting the hardwood floor and her posture straightening to come across as more intimidating. Granted, she knows she isn't going to intimidate this monster of a man, but it makes her feel a little safer anyway.

"Who is she?" Her words are sharp and straight-to-the-point as she stares up at his tall frame in an attempt to seem, for the most part, fearless.

"Wisteria. Don't get your hopes up, she's almost as bad as Jeff." Releasing a huff, she rolls her eyes though chooses not to respond. "Do you want a glass—no, sorry—do you want a cup of water?" He puts great emphasis on the word 'cup', indirectly reminding her of the way she launched the glass at his head in an attempt to escape previously. It did work out in the end, she supposes, and she would have actually gotten out of this place had Jeff's hellhound for a dog not taken it upon himself to chomp down on her ankle and keep her firmly planted where she laid in the dirt until someone came to retrieve her. That 'someone' being Jeff.

"What, so you can poison me?" She mutters, crossing her arms stubbornly. "I think I'll pass."

"Did you not hear anything I just told you a few minutes ago?" He sighs, running gloved fingers through his copper-brown hair. "If I wanted to hurt you I would have done it by now." Ignoring the dryness in her throat, no doubt from lack of water, she only stares up at him with an obstinate expression, refusing to take anything that he has to offer. After a couple of moments, he too crosses his arms. "Ya know, it won't do you much good if you dehydrate and end up dying anyway."

"I'd rather dehydrate than trust you with anything." They continue to stare at each other for what feels like minutes when in reality it's only around ten seconds before Jack shakes his head in defeat.

"Fine. Suit yourself." He takes a seat on the couch, being mindful to keep a fair amount of distance between himself and Y\n, and leans back to get more comfortable. "I know this is a lot to process, but you're gonna have to get used to the fact that you can't go back home. You can't see your family again, it would be too dangerous for both yourself and them."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. It's a warning. You go back home, try to live a normal life, and you eventually snap. You'd be compelled to go to the very thing you've been trying to avoid and kill whoever got in your way. Even if that includes your family." She leers at him through skeptical e\c eyes, comprehending what he's telling her and trying to brush away the feeling of trepidation that rises within her stomach. "It's happened before. I've seen it, too many times to be proud of. It isn't a nice process."

"You're crazy if you actually think I'd kill someone, much less my own family." It's true that she has less-than-desirable parents, but there's no way that she'd ever lose herself enough to physically harm them or take their lives. She isn't a bad enough kid to do something like that, not even under the direst of circumstances. Especially if it involves her grandparents. They've shown her nothing but kindness and support, why on earth would she ever murder them? The very thought sends shivers down her spine.

"Denial is something most people express at first. But it would happen, whether you wanted it to or not." She shakes her head, furrowing her eyebrows together in objection.

"I would never."

"You say that, but you don't know what he's capable of. You don't know how much power he possesses." She averts her gaze to the ground, hugging her torso insecurely and listening to the slightly muffled words that leave Jack's mouth. "He drives you mad. It may start off subtle, maybe you'll have some bad dreams, or minor coughing fits, nothing too concerning. But it will get worse, and worse, and soon you'll be seeing things that aren't there, becoming paranoid because at every turn you feel like something's watching you, but you don't know where or by what. You'll isolate yourself, refuse to talk to anyone, become distant from your friends, your family, society as a whole. And it will continue getting worse, and worse, and worse until you're at your breaking point. You'll just want it all to stop, you'll just want it to be over. You'll be desperate. So you'll listen to him, obey his commands. He'll take you to your breaking point, all without lifting a finger."

The words leave his mouth slowly, making the situation all the more unnerving. There's a sinister kind of truth to what he says that makes an eerie fog blanket her mind in a sense of dread and impending doom. He's right. She knows he's right. There isn't definite proof, but the very tone of his voice and his serious posture tells her right then. He isn't lying. This is real. This is all real, no matter how much she may try to deny it.

Letting out a shaky sigh, she rubs her face with her hands and attempts to slow the rapid beating of her heart. One question floats to the top of all of her thoughts, and she picks it up and analyzes it for a few moments before speaking. "...Why me?" She sees him tilt his head to the side a bit, silently questioning her inquiry and asking for clarification. She happily delivers. "Why, out of seven billion people, does it want me?" She scrapes a hand through her hair in an effort to compose herself, her voice trembling. "What did I do to attract it? I'm just...I'm just a normal person. Why would it want me to do...whatever?"

He takes a few seconds to respond, stringing the words together in his head and coming up with the best possible answer. "I...I don't know." He shrugs lightly, craning his neck toward the couch beneath him. "You told me you had some family issues. He preys on the weak and vulnerable. If you've been going through stressful things, that's likely to be a big contributor to the reason he chose you."

"So you're telling me that I'm being hunted by a paranormal entity because I have garbage for parents?" She chokes down the bile threatening to rise in her throat. "How is that my fault?"

"It doesn't have to be," he simply says, shifting in his seat to better face her. "He's attracted to whoever is at a bad time in life and isn't handling it very well. If you've been stressed, he'll try to get you. It isn't always the victim's fault." Thoughts swarm her mind, though they zip by so quickly she barely has time to process each one before the next one takes its place. But one question manages to stand out above the rest, and she stares at the floor intently.

"But... but I've been going through stuff for years and I haven't had any problems like what's been happening recently until I got here." Her eyes shift up to his featureless, navy-blue mask curiously. "If it wanted me, why didn't it start before?"

"It's difficult to stalk someone and drive them insane when they're in the middle of a city," he says after a moment. "He probably knew about you before, at least to a point, but he couldn't really get to you until you were closer to where he resides." She gulps, eyes glistening with unfallen tears of dismay. "He wanted you more isolated. He can affect you easier that way."

"He's only after me, right?" Worry blooms in her chest and she leans forward absentmindedly. "My... my grandparents aren't a target, too? It's just me?"

"I doubt he'd have anything to do with two people like that, unless..." He pauses, and she presses her lips together in an anxious line.

"Unless?" Her voice holds a sense of distress. "Unless what?"

"Unless..." She can tell he's hesitant to finish his thought, though if it concerns the well-being of Nana and Pops, she won't stand for any unanswered questions. "...well, unless he wanted to use them. To manipulate you."

"How would he do that?" Now fully invested in the conversation, she tries to stabilize her breathing as she stares impatiently at Jack, desperate to get a response.

"He has different tactics. It'd be hard to say which one he'd use on you." Releasing a tremulous breath and trying to ease the nervous pit in her stomach, she clenches her fists.

"Would he hurt them?" For now, she's going to assume both of them are still alive and well, though utterly frantic over her sudden disappearance. Jack hasn't given any proof that he didn't harm them in any way, but she'd rather think about the possibility of life over the possibility of death.

"I don't know. He might."

"Well, then I have to get back to them!" She shoots up from her sitting position, causing a wave of dizziness to wash over her and nearly make her stumble to the floor, but she manages to keep her balance before that can happen. "So let me go."

"Y\n, being irrational isn't going to get you anywhere."

"I'm not being irrational!" She shoots a glare at where he still sits on the couch, starting to limp her way to the front door. "I'm being a good granddaughter. I'm not letting them get hurt." He sighs, a sound that's really beginning to get on her nerves, and slowly stands. She backs away warily in response.

"Your grandparents are fine. He likely won't even do anything that involves them because they're so far away from you now." Just how far away from them is she really?

"Where did you bring me then??"

"I can't tell you. Not yet." He eases closer to her, and she eyes the door. She isn't getting anywhere with her ankle being the way it is, and she knows it. But it's worth another try, right? She darts across the rest of the living room, but before she can even get close to grabbing the knob, a pair of strong arms wrap around her torso and pull her back. Despite her attempts at freedom, his hold doesn't even loosen.

"Let me go, Jack!"

"You already know that isn't going to happen." She lets out an exasperated groan, trying not to put pressure on her injury as she struggles fruitlessly against the tall male currently holding her back and succeeding, much to her displeasure. "You need to calm down."

"How am I supposed to 'calm down'? The only two people who actually give a crap about me are in danger!" She growls, attempting to kick him in the leg or elbow him in the gut, though he skillfully dodges each time and locks onto her tighter, remaining unphased by her actions.

"And you'll be putting them in even more danger if you go back. You heard what I said. Do you really want to hurt your own family?"

"Just shut up! I'd never do something like that. Not if my life depended on it."

"Well, it would. Y\n, you don't understand." He effortlessly spins her around to face him, her neck having to bend upward due to the large height difference between the two of them. She watches the tar-like substance as it leisurely drips from his empty sockets and down his mask before having to glance away. "Once you get to that point, he controls you. He owns you. He can make you do whatever he deems necessary to please him, and you can't stop it." She huffs, biting her bottom lip and holding back distressed tears. "Do you really want that to happen to you?"

She brings both her hands up and pushes harshly against his chest to create some kind of space between them before crossing her arms and sending him a glare, gathering the nerve to look directly into the vacant pits in his head. "I don't want any of this to happen to me," she mumbles, taking deep breaths just to stop herself from crying. "I just want to go home and be with people I love." The words leave her lips as a harsh whisper, voice cracking in the process.

"That can't happen." His tone changes from mildly irritated to sympathetic in an instant, and he takes a small step back in an effort to make her feel more comfortable. "I'm sorry."

She uses the back of her arm to wipe away a stray tear that had begun rolling down her cheek as her gaze lingers toward the hallway. She doesn't want to be anywhere near Jack, or anybody besides her grandparents. She wants out of this mess. At least she knows it isn't her fault, not completely anyway. Not that the thought soothes her very much, but it's something. "...Where's the bathroom?" It comes out as a half-hearted demand, and he answers immediately.

"First door to the right." She nods in silent gratitude and starts walking that way, ignoring the bit of pain that erupts through the bottom half of her leg as she does so. Once inside the desired room, she shuts the door behind her, flicks on the light, and tries to calm her fast, unsteady breathing and erratic heart rate. What is she supposed to do? Take Jack's word for it and stay here? Escape and try to find the way to a police station? Neither option sounds too appealing at the moment. She doesn't forget the words Jeff used before he ever so kindly walked her back to her kidnapper's house.

"Cops don't scare me. I've dealt with way, way worse than guns and tasers."

It sounded like a threat, and given the brief, though memorable, interaction with Jeff she had, it's very probable that's exactly what it was. A threat. Like he was telling her if she managed to break free and get the police involved, he'd hunt her down and wipe out everyone within his path. And it wouldn't bother him a bit. Of course it wouldn't, if he's crazy enough to supposedly carve a smile into his face, then he's crazy enough not to care in the least as he straight-up murders people.

How could somebody be so... twisted? Is it the doing of that thing, the one Jack informed her about? Or is it something totally different? Well, if she's going to be here a while, as she assumes she will be whether she likes it or not, then she'll be sure to gather as many details about the ones that live around here as she can. Maybe she can ask that girl that's supposed to be coming by with shoes, according to Jack. What's her name? Wendy? Whitney? Wanda?

No, dummy, it was a flower. She's named after a flower... Petunia? Lily? She shakes her head in disregard. That isn't even close. The bathroom is small, with a sink counter to her right, a toilet to the side of that, a tub to her left, and a slender cabinet ahead of her, right beside a window. The thought only crosses her mind briefly to use the window to escape; not only is it too high for her to properly reach without some kind of boost, but it's too small for her to even begin trying to squeeze through.

Nausea bubbles in her stomach as she thinks more and more about her hopeless situation. How does she handle this? Her whole existence just got flipped upside-down in the matter of a few hours. She doesn't know where she is, the people around her seem completely off their rocker, and her grandparents are at risk of being hurt, or possibly even killed by some other-worldly creature that she's seen a grand total of once, and that sighting was vague. What about that one time she saw that figure in the woods? The one with the white mask? Was that a hallucination, or was it real too?

She has no way of knowing for sure, and that thought alone makes her want to collapse and cry until she can't anymore about her misfortune. But she won't, not right now. Instead, she throws herself at the sink, desperate to rid herself of the foul taste filling her mouth and swallowing the vomit creeping up her throat. She turns on the faucet and welcomes the cool water that spills out, pressing her lips against it and gulping it down. She savors the pristine liquid as it slips down her throat, bringing an end to the dryness she felt in it prior and relieving her of the discomfort.

Letting out a strangled cough, she turns the faucet off and looks up, only now noticing the large piece of cloth—presumably an old sheet or blanket—covering the area where a mirror usually is placed. She lifts the corner of it up, only to find that there is, indeed, a mirror underneath, but finding herself a bit perplexed. Why would there be a sheet blocking the mirror? Did Jack do it? Does he not like to look at himself?

How would he see himself if he doesn't have eyes? She knits her eyebrows together, sniffling and licking some residual water away from her lips to stop it from dribbling down her chin. But he seems to move around just fine as if he can see where he's going. She's already established that he isn't normal, but just how not-normal is he? How does one see without eyes? Does he have some kind of sixth sense that allows him to somehow know his surroundings? If the whole 'no eyes' thing is only part of his mask, it's definitely fooled her. It looks so... so real. Just like every other aspect of him.

If he's like that, and Jeff is like that, then what do the other ones look like? She knows that there have to be others, Jack made that blatantly obvious by mentioning someone named Brian and the other named...Daisy? No, that's not it either. How much freakier is it going to get for her? Just how many more psychos has she yet to come across? She isn't too eager to find out. Jack's bad enough, and though he hasn't given her any more reason to hate him, the fact still stands that he took her from her house. Not only that, but he drugged her to do so, and before that, tricked her. Lied, right to her face, all to make her think he was trustworthy. Which he clearly is not.

She isn't sure whether to feel mad, betrayed, or a mixture of both. No, the two weren't friends, but they had talked for quite a while and she had told him things about herself that she certainly wouldn't tell some grey-skinned, eyeless thing. Is he even human? He doesn't look like one. She thought that there was a sort of bond that had sparked between the two of them during their encounter, though now she knows it was just a big, dirty trick.

She sighs through her nose, rubbing her eyes and leaning against the counter. Should she have just stayed home? Sure, she didn't really have a choice but to go to her grandparents' house while her mom and dad went wherever their work lead them, but she knows for a fact that her father in particular would have much preferred to keep her away from them. For some reason though, he had still hauled her off to a place she hasn't visited since she was eleven years old. It may have had something to do with Y\n refusing, under any circumstances, to stay at the penthouse with their absolute snob of a nanny, all alone, for God-knows how many weeks on end.

And seeing as how her mother's parents weren't an option, it was either her father's or summer camp. The last time she was at summer camp, she didn't have a very good experience, and pair that with all of the people in a hurry to make fun of her just because they're jealous of her parents' money, yeah, her grandparents were the better option by a long shot. But... if she would have just stayed home, would this have happened? Would Nana and Pops still be safe? Would she still be leading a generally boring, miserable life? Jack said himself that the creature chasing after her wouldn't be able to reach her in a populated area, like a city, and that's why he only now started attacking her. Because she was easy bait.

Is this actually her fault? Could she have avoided all of this had she just stopped being stubborn and stayed put in her home? What if Nana and Pops get killed if they aren't already? All because of her want to reach out to and see family that actually still care about her? Throwing around blame isn't going to help anything. Though that's what she tells herself, she can't help but think about it and feel guilty.

If I'm dreaming, now would be a good time to wake up. It all feels a bit too realistic to be a dream at this point, but she still clings to that little sliver of hope that this whole charade has been something her mind created while she's unconscious, and that soon she'll awake, perfectly healthy in her bed, with no giant noodle man to worry about, or crazy weirdos with masks, or strange dreams, unexplained dizzy spells and coughing fits. No whacky symbols. That would be incredible, even though she knows that really, she's never that lucky. It's all actually happening, and there's no way to escape it.

She doesn't even try to stop the tears that softly slip down her cheeks and make tiny little drip noises when they land in the porcelain bowl beneath her, only huffing in agitation and dipping her head to collect her bearings. And I thought I had a screwed-up life before...

After a few minutes, she's able to compose herself and gather enough courage to step back outside into the hallway, glancing toward the living room and catching sight of Jack on the couch, book in hand, and head craned down as if reading the words on the pages. Now how does that work? She steps forward, and at the sound of another presence nearing, he tilts his head up and meets her eyes with his soulless black pits.

She pauses under his gaze, nerves jumping with unease at his attention before she continues walking, stopping to idly lean against the wall farthest from him. "You okay?" His voice makes her flinch slightly, having not expected him to speak and break the tense silence that had built between them, though she's able to blow it off and act as if nothing happened.

"No," she says, tone harsh as she crosses her arms and drops her gaze down to the floor. "Why would I be 'okay'? This isn't exactly an everyday occurrence."

"I know, I know." He folds his book over and rests it in his lap, slanting forward slightly. "I'm not expecting you to be alright with this. Not for a while, at least." She narrows her eyes at him and presses her lips together. "I just need you to understand that this is your best option. It ensures both your safety and your family's safety."

"You just told me that my family could be used to manipulate me." Her tone is taut and her eyebrows furrow together, peering at him through resentful e\c orbs. "That doesn't sound very 'safe' to me."

"Yes, and then I said he probably won't feel the need to use them at all because you're so far away from where they live." He straightens his posture and tilts his head. "Trust me, going back would be more dangerous."

"And what if he does decide to 'use' them, huh? What then?" It takes a few infuriating moments for him to respond, and she shuffles around on her feet a bit to give him a well-aimed glare. He either doesn't notice or chooses to ignore it.

"We'll have to cross that bridge if we come to it." She opens her mouth to complain, to say something along the lines of, 'no freaking way am I standing aside and letting my grandparents become targets for some freak of nature,' but before she can there are three firm raps on the door, coming from the outside. It startles her, and she cautiously averts her gaze to the source of the sudden noise.

Jack moves the curtain to the side and glances out through the window placed directly behind the couch, seemingly checking for who could possibly be at the door. "Relax, it's alright." He stands to his feet and heads toward the wooden portal. She sends him a questioning look, and he motions outside. "Wisteria's here."

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #female reader #Y\n L\n #Eyeless Jack #Jack Nichols #Eyeless Jack x reader #creepypasta x female reader

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drabblesofrapture · 3 years

Text

The Empress’s Pawn (Superhero AU)

Hey kiddos, been awhile since we’ve posted. Anyway have yet another scene from our superhero au lol. -Mod Dusty

CW: prison setting, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, manipulation, betrayal

The hallway seemed to stretch out infinitely before Roxanne. From above her came the constant buzz from the harshly glowing lights, a sound that invaded each thought that raced through her mind. Off-white brick walls stared down at her from either side, occasionally interrupted by doors or another hallway branching off from this one. The numerous branching paths made the whole place seem like a maze; a design choice intentionally made to confuse any possible intruders or escapees, making it easy for them to become lost and later captured by the guard patrol. While Jeff’s facility overall was very impressive, the prison block where Roxanne now found herself in had to be her least favorite place within its walls.

The thud of her boots echoed loudly down the corridor as she walked, her cape billowing behind her. One arm clutched a folder full of documents tightly to her chest while the other was raised to her face to wipe a bit of sweat away from around the edges of her mask. It felt rather silly to have to wear her suit around the facility, especially when it caused her inconveniences; such as her cape becoming caught in doors or getting snagged on various things. In hindsight, maybe the cape wasn’t a great idea for her new hero persona. Wardrobe malfunctions aside, bearing with it was far better than risking the exposure of her identity.

She kept her pace quick, her footsteps keeping a steady beat. Her gaze was locked dead ahead of her, not even giving a second glance to the few guards and staff members whom she passed along the way. Their waves and friendly greetings went unexpectedly unanswered, leading to many raised eyebrows and double takes. She stopped for nothing. Two guards stood in the middle of the hallway casually talking to each other and she briskly stepped around them without missing a beat. No hellos, no wishing anyone a wonderful day, she just kept walking. She had places to be today.

After a series of twists and turns down the labyrinthine complex of corridors and a lengthy security checkpoint, Roxanne eventually came before a huge steel door with a sign above it which read “MAXIMUM SECURITY CELL BLOCK.” On either side of the door were guards carrying heavy assault rifles and dressed in high-tech suits of armor; armor modeled directly after the former Hero Killer’s suit. They both snapped to attention as she approached, most likely former henchmen of her father. She simply held up a hand to put them at ease and pulled out her keycard to insert in the reader on the door’s right side. A pneumatic hiss emitted from the door as it suddenly lurched open an inch before slowly sliding the rest of the way open. She waited for the door to open completely and for the guards to give her the go-ahead before she finally stepped through.

The cell block was a long hall with a high, arched ceiling. The walls were lined with -you guessed it- cells! In lieu of the traditional metal bars, the cell doors were made of reinforced plexiglass, allowing the villains imprisoned within to be fully visible to the guards. Many of the prisoners leered at Roxanne as she passed, getting right up against the glass and making obscene gestures at her and shouting their usual empty threats.

Like everyone else, she completely ignored them. Occasionally she’d shoot them the cold glare her father had taught her -that would usually shut them up immediately- but not today. She kept walking until she reached the end of the hall where she came before another large steel door. This door was much bigger and thicker than the first door, resembling that of a vault door. Six guards stood in front of this door, all wearing the same high tech armor as the guards at the entrance to the cell block. However, these guards had been outfitted with advanced rifles specially designed for super powered individuals, all sporting the trademark Collinsworth logo. As Roxanne approached, all six guards moved to block her path.

The first guard held out his hand towards her. “You’re not authorized past this point, Ms. Witch.”

“Dude, it’s Mrs. Witch now!” another guard corrected. “Didn’t you know she got married to that Angel guy recently?”

“Gary, what have I said about your mouth and keeping it shut?” The first guard scolded, turning around to shoot what Roxanne assumed to be a scathing look at his comrade. She couldn’t really tell because of the helmets.

Gary cast his gaze at the floor and let his arms hang dejectedly at his sides. The guard next to him patted his shoulder consolingly.

“Like I said, you can’t be here.”

Roxanne stared indifferently at him as she fished around in the folder she was holding. With a flourish, she pulled a document out of it and presented it to the guard standing before her. “I am here to interrogate the prisoner on authorization of my father, the King.” she stated in a professional tone.

The guard snatched the document away from her. He clicked the visor on his helmet open so he could scrutinize the document more clearly, eyes landing on the King’s forged signature at the bottom.

“Alright,” he said, closing his visor and handing the document back to Roxanne. “It checks out, head on in. Just be careful in there kid.”

The guard motioned to the guard closest to the door who proceeded to input a code on the keypad next to it. A red light above the door began to flash and there was a loud buzz, followed by the sound of metal sliding against metal as several huge locks were unlocked. The latch was undone next, and the door slowly slid open in a dramatic fashion. Roxanne waited until the door was fully open before going in, but even then she found herself hesitating. Her hands tightened into fists, crushing the cardboard folder underneath her fingertips. Mustering her courage, she took a deep breath and marched through the doorway. Once she was in, she tried not to jump when she heard the door slam shut behind her and all the locks clicked back into place. She was alone now.

The room was essentially a concrete cube, where in the center stood another cube made of glass tinted so heavily that it could not be seen through. There were cameras in every corner of the room, all pointed at the glass cube in the center. The cube had a control console on the side facing the door. Steeling herself with another deep breath, Roxanne strode toward the console, setting the crumpled folder on the dash. She pressed a button on the console which caused the tint of the glass to lighten until it was once again transparent. The glass cube was actually another cell. Inside was a cot, a toilet, a sink complete with a vanity, a small desk with a chair, and a bookshelf. A tall, slim woman sat hunched over on the cot, her face obscured by her long, blonde hair, now matted and ratty by weeks of improper care. Pale blue eyes stared up at Roxanne through tangled strands. Chapped lips pulled back into a sinisterly sweet smile.

“Hello darling,” she cooed. “Come to pay your dear old auntie a visit?”

“Adelaide,” Roxanne said bluntly. “You’re looking well.”

Adelaide just hummed, clutching a split end between her thumb and forefinger and holding it up to eye level before letting it fall limply across her chest. “I’ve looked better. The conditions of this place are absolutely dreadful.”

“Not up to your ostentatiously high standards, hm?” Roxanne asked, tilting her head to the side.

“No, not at all,” Adelaide replied, scowling at the hero. She suddenly stood up from her cot and strode over to the vanity at the end of her cell, studying the reflection of herself and Roxanne in the mirror. “My offer is still open, you know. If you can break me out of this place, that is.”

“Oh? You mean the offer to sell my life away to you as your servant for eternity?”

“Oh darling, must you always think so little of me,” Adelaide sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She turned around and began walking to the window. “The offer to rule Rapture by my side.” Her smile widened and she clenched her fist, shaking it as she spoke. “I’ve taught you so well that the two of us working together would be unstoppable! Think of what you could do with that power! Your friends have made powerful enemies, you could make sure those malefactors never harm them ever again.”

Roxanne was silent for a moment. Adelaide’s smug grin strengthened as she saw the gears turning in the girl’s head. However, a smile began to spread across Roxanne’s face and she raised a hand to her mouth as she started giggling. She soon lost control and was doubled over laughing, both arms holding her stomach as she struggled to regain composure. Adelaide’s nostrils flared as the sneer dropped from her face, her eye twitching slightly at the pure disrespect being thrown at her.

“You must be joking auntie!” Roxanne managed to squeak out as she wiped a tear from her eye, a couple more giggles escaping her lips. “I remember how inspired I used to get whenever you gave me those grand speeches. Pandering to all my hopes and dreams, manipulating me. It’s quite amusing how easily I used to fall for that.”

“I haven’t the slightest clue of what you mean darling,” Adelaide said, feigning ignorance.

“Sure.” Roxanne turned away from her, crossing her arms and peering at her from over her shoulder. “That’s all you do: manipulate others.You promise them fantastic things so long as they can do something for you, and once their purpose has been used up, you cast them aside.” She turned her back on her completely now. “There’s not a single person in your life that you haven’t done it to. The heroes you face, your henchmen, father-” she threw a piercing gaze at Adelaide “-even me.”

“Well…” Adelaide paused for a moment, raising a hand to her chin. She let out a short sigh. “Yes, I have manipulated others. How else do you think all my henchmen have remained so loyal to me?”

“Well, most of them,” Roxanne interrupted with a smirk.

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, most of them.”

“The point is,” Adelaide continued, “manipulation is the only way I’ve managed to survive all these years by myself. It’s the only way you can get anywhere in this ugly world; someone very close to me taught me that a long time ago.” She moved closer to the glass, gently pressing her hand against it. Her other hand brushed the hair away from her face to show Roxanne her caring expression. “But I would never do such an awful thing to you.”

Roxanne raised an eyebrow at her, turning again so that she was once again facing her. “I have only ever wanted to protect you from all the cruelness that runs rampant in the world. I took you under my wing, I taught you how to control your powers and furthermore how to use them. I taught you everything I know so that the things that happened to me will never happen to you.” Their eyes locked. “Do you know why I did all that, darling? Do you know why I want to protect you?”

The girl moved closer to the glass as well. “Why?”

“Because we’re the same,” Adelaide said, smiling sweetly at her. “Both of us were betrayed by someone close to us and then abandoned. Your own mother left you to waste away in that orphanage, much like how my husband left me to rot in a ditch.” She tilted her head. “I’ve always loved you Roxanne, you’re like a daughter to me.”

There was a long pause between the two. Roxanne stood there, her expression unreadable for a moment. Slowly, she raised her hand to the glass, placing it exactly where Adelaide’s was. There was a lump in her throat, and her lip began to tremble as her eyes started to well up with tears. Her whole arm tensed like she was struggling to hold herself up. Adelaide had to hide her smugness as she watched the poor girl melt like putty in her hands.

“Is that so?” Roxanne seethed, her brow furrowing. She pushed herself away from the glass, taking a step back from the cell. She breathed in, swallowing the lump in her throat. She tilted her head down and gave Adelaide a furious, yet determined glare. “Is that why you threatened to kill me if my father did not comply with your wishes? Is that what you call love?”

Adelaide looked as if she had just been struck in the face. Her eyes wide and her mouth agape as her hand limply fell away from the glass. She took a step back in shock. “I-”

“That’s right, father told me all about your little game,” she said. “You probably used me as leverage against Angel as well, hm?”

“Darling-”

“You never really cared about me, did you auntie?” she continued, cutting her off. She had waited so long for this moment; all the anger, all the hurt, all the betrayal coming to a boiling point inside of her. She wouldn’t let herself be interrupted now, she would get this out in the open right now. “You didn’t teach me how to hone my powers so that I could protect myself, you just wanted to weaponize me. You thought that since we have the same powers, then we’d have the same weaknesses as well; weaknesses that you planned to exploit should the need arise.” Her shoulders started to relax, focusing all the anger in her body into her voice, making every word drip with venom. “That’s not love. You never loved me.” She crossed her arms, glaring straight into the villain’s soul. “All these years, I was just another pawn to you, is that right?”

Adelaide’s jaw was practically touching the floor now. Her already pale skin seemed to become whiter still and she took another step back. She brought her hand to her mouth to close it and kept it there for a beat. She closed her eyes, and her countenance suddenly began to change. A smile grew across her face as a malicious laugh began to rise up from her chest. Her eyes shot back up to Roxanne, fixing her with an icy stare.

“Oh darling… of course you were.” The facade was gone now, her true evil beginning to shine forth. She strode back to the glass window, hips swaying from side to side. “Of course you were!” she laughed. “You really thought I ever gave a damn about an insignificant little mortal cur like you? You were always a means to an end for me.” She tapped a finger against her cheek. “Although, originally the plan was for you to help me take over Rapture. Unfortunately, that idiot Malcolm had to get involved so I had to change the plan; change your purpose.”

Roxanne was completely taken aback. She had already found out that these had been Adelaide’s true intentions, she just didn’t think that she would be so upfront about it. Perhaps there was even a part of her that wanted to still believe that Adelaide truly cared for her, that even treating her as a tool was just another facade.

“I’d say that I’m surprised that it took you this long to find out, but I’m not really. You always were a naive little girl,” Adelaide scoffed, placing her hands on her hips and shifting her weight into one leg. “No matter how hard I tried, I never could train the stupidity out of you.”

The girl flinched as Adelaide threw her head back, letting loose another maniacal laugh. “Honestly, you’re almost as dumb as that little devil girl! All your moronic blabbering over the years, rambling about how you and your ‘daddy’ are going to change the world! And now you run around with your little boy-toy playing hero like a couple of children!”

“He is not my boy-toy,” Roxanne snapped.

Another laugh. “Oh that’s right! He’s your husband now, isn’t he? Honestly darling, you could do so much better.” She chuckled, waving a hand at Roxanne as she started walking the perimeter of the cell. “At least he’s smarter than you, he knew better than to meddle in my affairs.”

She finished her lap of the cell while Roxanne sat in stunned silence, finally coming to a stop in front of her once more. “That’s all besides the point though. You’ll never be able to change the world, no matter who you pair yourself with and especially not by yourself. You’re not a hero, you’re nothing.”

Roxanne could’ve sworn that her heart stopped beating. She couldn’t feel it, she couldn’t feel anything right now. Her body just felt hollow, like her heart had just been completely scooped out and stomped on.

“You betrayed me,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice from shaking.”

“Betrayed you?!” Adelaide guffawed. “Darling, betrayal only works if it’s by someone you love.”

“...I did love you,” Roxanne sniffed, looking down at the cold, concrete floor. “Or at least I thought I did, and I thought you did too…”

“That was your own mistake,” Adelaide snorted derisively. She crossed her arms behind her back and began to pace. “You want to know what I always hated most about you?”

The lump was back, throbbing up inside Roxanne’s throat.

“The way you insisted on calling me auntie,” She shivered, her face scrunching up in disgust. “That always made my skin crawl. And to think that I even said you were like a daughter to me just a couple minutes ago.” Her index finger stuck out to point at her open mouth as she mocked a gagging noise. “It was so difficult to make that sound convincing. You’re just so desperate for a family, aren’t you? I suppose it makes sense, a little runt like you being abandoned at birth.”

She couldn’t swallow the lump, it was too big. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. Hold it in, she had to hold it in.

“That’s why you cling to Malcolm so tightly, calling him ‘daddy’ and father. Well let me tell you something.” She walked over to the glass wall again, pressing her body against it. “I am not your auntie, and Malcolm is not your father; he never was, and he never will be.”

She bit down harder. Her lip was bleeding now. Don’t cry, please don’t cry. Not now, not in front of her. Please-

“You’re more of a pet to him really,” Adelaide went on. “A pet to him and a tool to me. That’s all you’ve ever been. And now I assume you’ll continue your sick little found family fantasy with that boy-toy of yours too, hm?” A vicious sneer was painted on her face as she watched the little girl trembling before her slowly break down.

Roxane sniffed a couple times, letting out a long, shaky exhale.

“Awww, did I hurt your feelings, darling,” she purred maliciously.

“No,” she replied after a long pause. It was a lie, but she wasn’t going to let Adelaide have the last laugh in this. “I’m just sad that you’ve become such a bitter old woman.”

Immediately, her countenance became twisted with rage. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” Roxanne said, managing to fake a soft, derisive laugh. “You never got your happily ever after. You thought you were at the top of the world, that you could rule everything, but now the mighty Empress has been defeated.” She forced a cocky grin. “You had a husband, a family, but you lost it all. You’re mad that I have everything that you never had.” She took a few steps towards the cell, leaning in to make eye contact with the now infuriated villain. “He left you to rot in a ditch, and now I -the only person who has ever cared for you- will leave you to rot in this cell.”

Adelaide’s brow furrowed, pale blue eyes flaring with rage. “You little-”

“I’ve come up with a new name for you too, something far better than auntie,” she added. “I quite like the ring of ‘miserable old hag,’ don’t you?” She let out a small giggle. “Goodbye, darling.”

Adelaide opened her mouth to scream at Roxanne, but she quickly slapped the button on the console to shut the intercom off. She then quickly slammed her fist on the other button, causing the glass to darken until Adelaide was no longer visible through it. She was alone again, alone in this big, empty room.

She stood there for a few moments, hand still resting on the console. The taste of blood coming from her lip finally hit her, causing her to slowly raise a hand to her mouth to wipe it away. Adelaide’s words came back to her, echoing loudly in her mind, invading every corner of her head. It pounded in her ears until she couldn’t take it. The lump came back once more and she tried to bite her lip again to hold it back but quickly had to let go, wincing from the pain. There was no holding it back now. Despair spread to every space in her body, filling her with a cold and empty feeling. It sapped her strength completely, causing her to double over and her legs to buckle underneath the weight of her body and sorrow. She fell to her knees as heavy, violent sobs wracked her frame. Tears streamed freely down her face like rivers, smearing the eyeshadow she used to fill in the empty spaces between her eyes and mask. She buried her face in her hands as she tried in vain to muffled her wails. Her body leaned against the console, trying to keep herself from falling to the floor.

She was so lost in her own sorrow that she didn’t even notice when the door opened behind her so that the guards could check on them. Their inquiries on what had happened didn’t even register in her mind. She barely even recognized Malcolm and Johnathan when they eventually arrived to escort her from the cell, continuing to cry the entire way.

#Mod Dusty #Dusty's writing #dusty's charas #vicey's charas #Superhero AU #Rapture Roxanne #Rapture Adelaide #whump #idk if this counts as whump but here we go #emotional whump maybe?#dont hurt me I dont write whump asdjflasljg #emotional whump

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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

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Welllp These Are Books: the March 2021 Edition

There aren’t even any pictures! Except in that one book where there were pictures! It was weird! This was a weird book month! Back at it again with thoughts and opinions about a whole mess of books that no one explicitly asked for, but I’ve got lots of thoughts and opinions and they only count if I share them on the internet. Seriously, someone let me go to a baseball game soon. Obligatory warning for spoilers and vaguely unhinged rants under the cut. As always, feel free to come tell me what else I should be reading at literally any time ever.

Best Book of the Month Honors Goes to This Book, Even Though They Called It Halftime at a Hockey Game. A Hockey Game!

The Dating Plan by Sara Desai

Daisy Patel is a software engineer who understands lists and logic better than bosses and boyfriends. With her life all planned out, and no interest in love, the one thing she can't give her family is the marriage they expect. Left with few options, she asks her childhood crush to be her decoy fiancé. Liam Murphy is a venture capitalist with something to prove. When he learns that his inheritance is contingent on being married, he realizes his best friend's little sister has the perfect solution to his problem. A marriage of convenience will get Daisy's matchmaking relatives off her back and fulfill the terms of his late grandfather's will. If only he hadn’t broken her tender teenage heart nine years ago… Sparks fly when Daisy and Liam go on a series of dates to legitimize their fake relationship. Too late, they realize that very little is convenient about their arrangement. History and chemistry aren't about to follow the rules of this engagement.

— Ok, it’s important to know that I really did love this book. It hit all my trope-wants. Childhood friends, incredibly stupid misunderstandings, pining, seriously God the pining, fake engagement, BANTER. It was all going great. I was occasionally swooning. They kept making out! And then! THEN. They went to a hockey game. On a date. A fake date. Cool, cool, cool. All tropes, all the time right? Not so fast, internet! Because these self-proclaimed Sharks SUPER FANS referred to intermission as “halftime was coming up.” Halftime! At a hockey game! That’s—that’s not how hockey works! If this hadn’t been “traditionally” published, I probably could have let it slide. But that was not the case. This was a “real” book with, I can only assume, real editors. All of whom saw the words halftime and hockey near each other and we’re like YEAH, PRINT THAT SHIT. I read that at nearly one in the morning and seriously considered waking Justin up to be like CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS IS IN A REAL BOOK? Anyway, it was still real cute. Everyone lived happily ever after. It made want to eat samosas.

This Book Had Pictures, It Was Weird

Clean Sweep by Ilona Andrews

On the outside, Dina Demille is the epitome of normal. She runs a quaint Victorian Bed and Breakfast in a small Texas town, owns a Shih Tzu named Beast, and is a perfect neighbor, whose biggest problem should be what to serve her guests for breakfast. But Dina is...different: Her broom is a deadly weapon; her Inn is magic and thinks for itself. Meant to be a lodging for otherworldly visitors, the only permanent guest is a retired Galactic aristocrat who can’t leave the grounds because she’s responsible for the deaths of millions and someone might shoot her on sight. Under the circumstances, "normal" is a bit of a stretch for Dina.

And now, something with wicked claws and deepwater teeth has begun to hunt at night...Feeling responsible for her neighbors, Dina decides to get involved. Before long, she has to juggle dealing with the annoyingly attractive, ex-military, new neighbor, Sean Evans—an alpha-strain werewolf—and the equally arresting cosmic vampire soldier, Arland, while trying to keep her inn and its guests safe. But the enemy she’s facing is unlike anything she’s ever encountered before. It’s smart, vicious, and lethal, and putting herself between this creature and her neighbors might just cost her everything.

— So, Ilona Andrews is a name that keeps coming up because when I borrow a book from the library I have to go through Kindle and Amazon is like...here are some other absurd fantasy romances you’d enjoy. Also, one of her other series had been recc’ed to me. Only problem? The first book in that series is the only book in that series not available at my library. So, I was like, ok, I’ll start this one instead. It was...weird. Honestly, it felt like I’d been dropped in the middle of the story and the narrator was like, well why don’t you already know what’s going on? In theory the world building was cool. (I was not expecting alien werewolves, lemme tell you that!) But also it all felt very rushed and the end just sorta happened.

In Which I Continue to Love “Same Verse” Books & No One Else Had Sex in the Port Jeff High School Dugout. For Which I Was Grateful

Love Her or Lose Her by Tessa Bailey

Rosie and Dominic Vega are the perfect couple: high school sweethearts, best friends, madly in love. Well, they used to be anyway. Now Rosie’s lucky to get a caveman grunt from the ex-soldier every time she walks in the door. Dom is faithful and a great provider, but the man she fell in love with ten years ago is nowhere to be found. When her girlfriends encourage Rosie to demand more out of life and pursue her dream of opening a restaurant, she decides to demand more out of love, too. Three words: marriage boot camp.

Never in a million years did Rosie believe her stoic, too-manly-to-emote husband would actually agree to relationship rehab with a weed-smoking hippie. Dom talking about feelings? Sitting on pillows? Communing with nature? Learning love languages? Nope. But to her surprise, he’s all in, and it forces her to admit her own role in their cracked foundation. As they complete one ridiculous—yet surprisingly helpful—assignment after another, their remodeled relationship gets stronger than ever. Except just as they’re getting back on track, Rosie discovers Dom has a secret... and it could demolish everything.

— Listen, one of my absolutely favorite tropes that I do not think gets enough love in the world is COMMITTED LONG-LASTING RELATIONSHIPS. And, like, ok, sure the premise of this was that they were separating in that long-lasting relationship. But no one really believed that, did they? Rosie and Dominic were real cute and their banter was good and I wasn’t totally skeeved out when they literally fucked on the kitchen floor. So, I think that’s saying something. Also, also! I seriously appreciated the realism of this book because no one on Long Island would ever call Manhattan Manhattan. It’s the city. Every other borough gets a name, but Manhattan is just the city and I nearly cheered when they said that. But also, no one’s taking a cab from Port Jeff to the Meatpacking District. You know what that would cost? God.

Tools of Engagement by Tessa Bailey

Hair, makeup, clothing, decor... everything in Bethany Castle's world is organized, planned, and styled to perfection. Which is why the homes she designs for her family's real estate business are the most coveted in town. The only thing not perfect? Her track record with men. She's on a dating hiatus and after helping her friends achieve their dreams, Bethany finally has time to focus on her own: flip a house, from framework to furnishings, all by herself. Except her older brother runs the company and refuses to take her seriously.

When a television producer gets wind of the Castle sibling rivalry, they’re invited on Flip Off, a competition to see who can do the best renovation. Bethany wants bragging rights, but she needs a crew and the only member of her brother's construction team willing to jump ship is Wes Daniels, the new guy in town. His Texas drawl and handsome face got under Bethany's skin on day one, and the last thing she needs is some cocky young cowboy in her way.

As the race to renovate heats up, Wes and Bethany are forced into close quarters, trading barbs and biting banter as they remodel the ugliest house on the block. It's a labor of love, hate, and everything in between, and soon sparks are flying. But Bethany's perfectly structured life is one kiss away from going up in smoke and she knows falling for a guy like Wes would be a flipping disaster.

— It should first be noted that in the three books of this series, I could not and cannot understand why Bethany’s brother was such a monumental dick. He was just...he was a dick. His marriage was awful. How long was his wife pregnant without him knowing???? I digress. This continued to be cute, Bethany was a legit heroine as far as those rom-com things go, Wes was very Texas and that got a little over the top, but they had sex in a bed like normal people so that helped. Oh, except that one time on the construction site. Whatever, this book was cute. This whole series was cute, really, and I was a big fan of the happy little wrap-everything-up with a bow ending.

Romance That Happens In Point Two Seconds Is...Unbelievable

Too Hot to Handle by Tessa Bailey

The road trip was definitely a bad idea. Having already flambéed her culinary career beyond recognition, Rita Clarkson is now stranded in God-Knows-Where, New Mexico, with a busted-ass car and her three temperamental siblings, who she hasn't seen in years. When rescue shows up---six-feet-plus of hot, charming sex on a motorcycle---Rita's pretty certain she's gone from the frying pan right into the fire . . . Jasper Ellis has a bad boy reputation in this town, and he loathes it. The moment he sees Rita, though, Jasper knows he's about to be sorely tempted. There's something real between them. Something raw. And Jasper has only a few days to show Rita that he isn't just for tonight---he's forever.

— For as much as I loved the Port Jeff series by my new pal Tessa, this one was...oof. Too much, guys. Too much. Fucking in trucks. Fucking in back offices. The whole book lasted, like, three days. And keep in mind this is coming from someone who has written like two million words about Killian Jones, self-loathing champ 250 years running, but Jasper’s self-loathing was a little over the top. Like, let’s not objectify dudes, but also...I don’t know guys. Maybe the other books in the series are better? I was mostly just annoyed by Rita.

What the Hell Happened at the End of This Book?? Seriously, I Have No Idea

The Queen’s Assassin by Melissa de la Cruz

Caledon Holt is the kingdom's deadliest weapon. No one alive can best him in speed, strength, or brains, which is why he's the Hearthstone Guild's most dangerous member. Cal is also the Queen's Assassin, bound to her by magic and unable to leave her service until the task she's set for him is fulfilled. Shadow of the Honey Glade has been training all her life to join the Guild, hoping that one day she'll become an assassin as feared and revered as Cal. But Shadow's mother and aunts expect her to serve the crown as a lady of the Renovian Court. When a surprise attack brings Shadow and Cal together, they're forced to team up as assassin and apprentice. Even though Shadow's life belongs to the court and Cal's belongs to the queen, they cannot deny their attraction to each other. But now, with war on the horizon and true love at risk, Shadow and Cal will uncover a shocking web of lies that will change their paths forever.

—WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED AT THE END OF THIS BOOK??? I figured out the so-called twist like...two chapters in. Fine, ok, whatever. It’s YA, this is not rocket science and I was interested enough in Cale and Shadow to see how it all played out. Only it didn’t really play out! Because the whole end was just this like four chapter retcon of basically EVERYTHING ELSE THAT HAPPENED and I genuinely could not believe it was happening. It didn’t make sense?!? Like with the plot? Also, spoiler, good thing Shadow and the other king haven’t consummated their marriage yet since she and Cale totally fucked after her wedding? What is YA? Why is Amazon telling me this is a Teacher’s Pick? Why hasn’t my hold come through on the sequel yet so I know what happens next?

Low-Stakes Romance Was Real Boring and All The People Were Boring In It

The Ten Rules for Faking It by Sophie Sullivan

As birthdays go, this year’s for radio producer Everly Dean hit rock-bottom. Worse than the “tonsillectomy birthday.” Worse than the birthday her parents decided to split (the first time). But catching your boyfriend cheating on you with his assistant? Even clichés sting. But this is Everly’s year! She won’t let her anxiety hold her back. She’ll pitch her podcast idea to her boss. There’s just one problem. Her boss, Chris, is very cute. (Of course). Also, he's extremely distant (which means he hates her, right? Or is that the anxiety talking)? And, Stacey the DJ didn’t mute the mic during Everly’s rant about Simon the Snake (syn: Cheating Ex). That’s three problems. Suddenly, people are lining up to date her, Bachelorette-style, fans are voting (Reminder: never leave house again), and her interest in Chris might be a two-way street. It’s a lot for a woman who could gold medal in people-avoidance. She’s going to have to fake it ‘till she makes it to get through all of this. Perhaps she’ll make a list: The Ten Rules for Faking It.

— I am a broken record. Shouting. From the highest hilltop. Just because you think someone is cute when you’re technically not supposed to be dating them does not mean you get to be anything less than nice around them! It’s not cute! And part two, which often goes with part one: rom com dudes have GOT to stop lying or hiding or otherwise avoiding telling people who they really are. It’s a convoluted, passably lazy way of writing and dropping a third-act bomb on the story. Don’t do it. Stop doing it. We’ve moved past the need for hidden identities. Unless he’s, like, a spy or something. Um...this was a weird book. I know Everly had anxiety and that became a PLOT POINT, patent pending, but she was also not super relatable? Which is crazy considering my very real, rather undiagnosed anxiety. Chris was boring. The whole plot, as this title suggests, was very low stakes and no one actually seemed to remember that their jobs were ever on the line? Did Everly and Chris have a conversation before they decided they liked each other? Who can say, really.

Shipped by Angie Hockman

Between taking night classes for her MBA and her demanding day job at a cruise line, marketing manager Henley Evans barely has time for herself, let alone family, friends, or dating. But when she’s shortlisted for the promotion of her dreams, all her sacrifices finally seem worth it. The only problem? Graeme Crawford-Collins, the remote social media manager and the bane of her existence, is also up for the position. Although they’ve never met in person, their epic email battles are the stuff of office legend. Their boss tasks each of them with drafting a proposal on how to boost bookings in the Galápagos—best proposal wins the promotion. There’s just one catch: they have to go on a company cruise to the Galápagos Islands...together. But when the two meet on the ship, Henley is shocked to discover that the real Graeme is nothing like she imagined. As they explore the Islands together, she soon finds the line between loathing and liking thinner than a postcard. With her career dreams in her sights and a growing attraction to the competition, Henley begins questioning her life choices. Because what’s the point of working all the time if you never actually live?

— YOU NEED TO HAVE A CONVERSATION WITH SOMEONE TO DECIDE YOU LIKE THEM. AUTHORS REALLY REALLY NEED TO LEARN HOW TO BUILD ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS. IF THEY ONLY LIKE EACH OTHER BECAUSE THEY KISS WELL IT’S NOT A GOOD RELATIONSHIP. AND THIS IS COMING FROM ME. Back at it again with the annoying so-called heroine who was just...occasionally real mean to Graem for no reason at all? Also her name was Henley. Which is not a great reason to dislike her, but here we are.

Apparently I Read These Books Out Of Order. Who Knew?

Pride, Prejudice and Other Flavors by Sonali Dev

It is a truth universally acknowledged that only in an overachieving Indian American family can a genius daughter be considered a black sheep.

Dr. Trisha Raje is San Francisco’s most acclaimed neurosurgeon. But that’s not enough for the Rajes, her influential immigrant family who’s achieved power by making its own non-negotiable rules:

· Never trust an outsider

· Never do anything to jeopardize your brother’s political aspirations

· And never, ever, defy your family

Trisha is guilty of breaking all three rules. But now she has a chance to redeem herself. So long as she doesn’t repeat old mistakes.

Up-and-coming chef DJ Caine has known people like Trisha before, people who judge him by his rough beginnings and place pedigree above character. He needs the lucrative job the Rajes offer, but he values his pride too much to indulge Trisha’s arrogance. And then he discovers that she’s the only surgeon who can save his sister’s life.

As the two clash, their assumptions crumble like the spun sugar on one of DJ’s stunning desserts. But before a future can be savored there’s a past to be reckoned with...

A family trying to build home in a new land.

A man who has never felt at home anywhere.

And a choice to be made between the two.

— Surprise, apparently this was the first book in the series. I did not know. It didn’t affect my enjoyment of the Persuasion version in this same ‘verse, which is also strange because I liked the Persuasion one way better. There was a lot of medical in this. And not super uplifting medical, either. This was like...oh the Jane character (I guess???) has cancer and either she’s going to go blind after having a surgery (also she was an artist, so you see how this was a problem) or she’s just going to decide to die. Wait, what? That came out of left field, really. Also DJ and Trisha were not nice to each other. Like, I know this is Pride and Prejudice so there has to be some of that at the start, but it wasn’t like Trisha ever really went through the Darcy-required time at Pemberly. She just decided she liked DJ and told him and it was as awkward as Jane Austen intended it, but then we got more medical and everything was cool. It felt very rushed and shoehorned into a modern setting and the Persuasion one was better. You can’t have Darcy’s growth without the Pemberly stuff. You just can’t.

In Which I Didn’t Like a Nickname??? Is the World Ending??

Crazy Stupid Bromance by Lyssa Kay Adams

Alexis Carlisle and her cat café, ToeBeans, have shot to fame after she came forward as a victim of a celebrity chef’s sexual harassment. When a new customer approaches to confide in her, the last thing Alexis expects is for the woman to claim they’re sisters. Unsure what to do, Alexis turns to the only man she trusts—her best friend, Noah Logan. Computer genius Noah left his rebellious teenage hacker past behind to become a computer security expert. Now he only uses his old skills for the right cause. But Noah’s got a secret: He’s madly in love with Alexis. When she asks for his help, he wonders if the timing will ever be right to confess his crush. Noah’s pals in The Bromance Book Club are more than willing to share their beloved “manuals” to help him go from bud to boyfriend. But he must decide if telling the truth is worth risking the best friendship he’s ever had.

— If Noah was going to call her Lexa, then her name should have been Alexa and not Alexis. That’s it and that’s all. Also, the story was n u t s. Estranged dads and kidney failure and they got together so fast in this book. Which usually is cool by me, but I really could not get over the nickname and the estranged family was mean to Alexis. Lexa. HER NAME SHOULD HAVE BEEN ALEXA, IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE. Also Noah was a former hacker? The estranged family accused him corporate espionage or something? A lot happened in this book, guys. Her name should have been Alexa.

Dumb Brother Was Dumb™ Everyone Else Was Real Cute

The Off Limits Rule by Sarah Adams

I have found rock bottom. It's here, moving in with my older brother because I'm too broke to afford to live on my own. It's okay though, because we've always been close and I think I'm going to have fun living with him again.   That is until I meet Cooper...   Turns out, my brother has very strong opinions on the idea of me dating his best friend and is dead set against it. According to him, Cooper is everything I should stay away from: flirtatious, adventurous, non-committal, and freaking hot. (I added that last part because I feel like you need the whole picture.) My brother is right--I should stay away from Cooper James and his pretty blue eyes. He's the opposite of what I need right now.   Nah--who am I kidding? I'm going for it.

— This was cute, mostly mindless fluff. Hit some trope high points, including, obviously, best friends sister. Only the brother in question was a Neanderthal and I really thought people were going to make out more while said brother was on his business trip. I got it for free off Amazon. Which I think should explain a lot. Like, story-wise. Sorry, free Amazon books. Don’t be insulted.

Prose, Prose, Prose, Please Someone Have a Conversation

Trick by Natalia Jaster

In the Kingdom of Spring, Poet is renowned. He's young and pretty, a lover of men and women. He performs for the court, kisses like a scoundrel, and mocks with a silver tongue. Yet allow him this: It's only the most cunning and manipulative soul who can play the fool. For beyond the castle walls, Poet guards a secret. One the Crown would shackle him for. One that he'll risk everything to protect. Alas, it will take more than clever words to deceive Princess Briar. Convinced that he's juggling lies as well as verse, this righteous nuisance of a girl is determined to expose him. But not all falsehoods are fiendish. Poet's secret is delicate, binding the jester and princess in an unlikely alliance—and kindling a breathless attraction, as alluring as it is forbidden.

— The purplest of prose. Mauve prose. Royal purple prose. Lavender prose. There was so much writing here. So much. Too much, some might say. I say. Actually. If we want to get specific. And that was a shame, really, because when Briar and Poet actually had a conversation, they were interesting to read about. Also, the world building here? Yeeeesh. The so-called, wait for it, FOOL TRADE played a prominent role and that was...super cringe. Super Cringe. That being said, I asked Justin what I should read next and he thought it was funny that a book was just called...

Dare by Natalia Jaster

In the Kingdom of Summer, they say she's wild. Locked in a cage by the sea, Flare dreams of escape. She dreams of a lost world, known only in legends. The island is calling to her. And she won't let anyone keep her from it. Especially not him. They say he's cruel. Jeryn has crossed the ocean for the Trade, to bargain for those fierce, imprisoned creatures that make his skin crawl. By law, they're subjects meant for experimentation. And easy to despise. One girl in particular. But on the cusp of transport, the tide rages. That hidden island awaits. Stranded, the prince and prisoner must fight to survive. In a mysterious rainforest, they must band together...if they don't slay one another first. Or become something more to each other. Something just as dangerous.

— This was Justin’s fault. He could not believe this book was just called Dare. It should have been called “We’re going to weirdly force what is basically slavery into this story and then a prince is going to fall in love with an escaped slave and we’re also going to call that ROMANCE.” y i k e s. Remember that one story that took place over three days? This was the complete opposite. Years! They were shipwrecked for years! They got saved, spoilers, the DAY they started having sex. What are the odds, right?? And then MORE YEARS passed. Multiple years! Five years! They couldn’t actually be together because of that aforementioned slave trade. What the shit, man? Natalia, ya gotta be kidding me with this. The internet claimed Trick was good and a solid follow to reading ACOTAR and that there was this whole verse and it was also good. The internet was wrong.

Nothing Happened, Everything Happened, I...Hated It

Graceling by Kristin Cashore

Kristin Cashore’s bestselling, award-winning fantasy Graceling tells the story of the vulnerable-yet-strong Katsa, a smart, beautiful teenager who lives in a world where selected people are given a Grace, a special talent that can be anything from dancing to swimming. Katsa’s is killing. As the king’s niece, she is forced to use her extreme skills as his thug. Along the way, Katsa must learn to decipher the true nature of her Grace… and how to put it to good use. A thrilling, action-packed fantasy adventure (and steamy romance!) that will resonate deeply with adolescents trying to find their way in the world.

— I can’t believe this was a book. Katsa was so annoying! Like, listen, I know her life was sad. And she was a pawn being used against her will. Blah, blah, blah. Whatever. The tone of the whole book was so strangely formal and Poe was strangely in love with Katsa? Who obviously didn’t want to get married because she was WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR. Or kill people, as the case may be. Only she wanted to make out with Poe? Only ONLY they didn’t even really get together at the end? I could not believe the end of this book. I nearly threw my Kindle across the room. Once again, no apologies for spoilers because do not read this book, but HE WAS BLIND? Katsa had to leave him behind to save his cousin and he just ENDED UP BEING BLIND? AND THEY NEVER GOT TOGETHER REALLY?? What the fuck? Seriously. Steamy romance, my ass. Nothing happened. The villain got defeated in point two seconds. There are other books in this universe? No, thanks.

#book recommendations #book rec #fantasy recommendations #book recs #laura reads books #this was longer than i realized it was going to be #documentation of a very weird book month #but we're almost back on track now because i am LOVING a darker shade of magic #welllp these are books

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chemiste · 4 years

Text

Foresight ~ ch.4

a/n: heyooooo, it’s chapter 4! btw, if y’all have requests send them in!!

masterlist

Once at the tour bus, you were met with various sleepy stares from a couple crew and the band members.

Sarah came up to you and basically melted into your hug, “I’m so tired…” She mumbled. You agreed with her as a crew person came up to take your suitcase and store it under the bus.

You realized there was more than once bus and wondered where you were supposed to go, “Hey Sar, do you know which bus I’m supposed to go on?” She rubbed the sleep out of her eye, “You’re probably on ours cause you’re Harry Styles ‘best friend’ right?” You nodded at her prediction and started to wonder about the friend thing.

Are we just going to pretend? Or does he actually wanna be real friends…

You were interrupted from your thoughts by Jeff tapping on your shoulder. “Good morning sunshine.” “Hey, Jeff.” “There’s an extra bed in the band’s bus you can take that one.” You gave a smile to him, “Thanks.”

Everyone climbed into their respective buses so they could start the 5-hour drive right on the dot. The bus was a lot bigger than you expected.

In the front behind the driver's seat was a long couch that sat opposite its twin couch, it the left corner close to the bus door was a tv drilled into the wall that sat diagonally. Farther back was a booth and table and then a mini kitchen on the right side. You walked farther back and saw on the left the small slide door to the bathroom and then another sliding door in the middle of the hallway opened to show the 4 sets of bunk beds, two on each side.

Each bed was covered with a curtain you could pull back. All of the beds thankfully, had their curtains open so you could see which one would most like be yours. It was the last bottom bed on the left side, it was the only one that didn’t have any pictures stuck on the walls inside around the tiny windows. One bed had fairy lights taped to the ceiling and another had a poster of Fleetwood Mac.

Putting down your backpack, you sat down onto the teal duvet that was too soft to be real.

“Innit comfy? 100% Egyptian Cotton.” You looked up to find a very cozy looking boy. Harry was wearing grey sweatpants and a tour hoodie.

His hair was sticking out from different angles and you could see the faint shadow of a beard growing. “Hi Harry, how are you feeling?” You asked as he sat down on the bed across from yours and started to take off his shoes.

“I’ll be better once we’re on the road.” Something about this tone made you wonder if he had a rough night but you didn’t ask anything else as the engine started up and the rest of the band came into the sleeping area to try and sleep the whole trip to Amsterdam.

Someone hit the lights off as the bus started to move and everyone’s curtains closed sans yours and Harry’s. You pulled your noise-canceling headphones you’d gotten as a present from a friend the year before and connected it to your phone to play some tunes to drown out the hum of the engine.

Little streams of light flashed in from your tiny window every so often so you pulled the black-out blinds shut and climbed into the XL twin bed.

You gave a little wave to Harry who had set up with a book and closed your curtain to try and sleep.

At some point on the drive, one of the turns the tour bus had taken jostled you awake. You pulled your blinds up a tiny bit to see that the sun was just breaking over the horizon.

You pulled your headphones off and took your hair down to brush through with your fingers. You contemplated going back to sleep but decided not to so you could enjoy the sunrise as you rode through the lovely landscape of Europe. You closed your blinds again and pulled back your curtains to get out of bed.

What surprised you was the bed across from you was empty, the curtain pulled back all the way and the conformer kicked down towards the end of the bed. After glancing around to see all the others were closed, you tiptoed out of the corridor and slipped out the sliding door, softly closing it behind you.

“Wha ’re doin’ up so early?

A British voice asked as you turned around to see the man of the hour sprawled out on the left side couch with a bowl of oatmeal in hand.

You padded over to the opposite couch and sat down into it, admiring how it swallowed you up.

Sorta like the cat bus in Totoro…

“Just got jostled awake by a turn, I wanted to watch the sunrise.” He hummed at your response and took a scoop of oatmeal.

You glanced over your shoulder to see the horizon painted with rays of yellow, orange, and peach.

“Sorta looks like a Sunflower doesn’t it?” You said aloud to him, still watching the new bursts of light dance around on the land below it. You heard the tap in the kitchen run and looked to see Harry rinsing out his empty bowl.

“Why are you up so early?” You finally asked, after swaying between thinking it might overstep boundaries or not. He shrugged and sat down, this time sitting on your couch. He rested an arm on the backrest and watched the road.

“Not sleeping well I guess.” You didn’t say anything, just watched out the window with him, not wanting to scare him if he decided to elaborate.

After a few minutes, he finally did. “I had a phone call last night that I wasn’t expecting and it just, messed with my head. Didn’t sleep very well s’all.”

Frankly, you didn’t know what position you were in to give advice but he seemed pretty torn up so you decided to give it a go.

“When I get into an argument with someone, I try and think of the qualities of them that I love them for and try to see my side from their point of view. Sometimes it infuriates me to the core cause I can’t see a different version of the story than mine, but once I do its easier to work things out cause then I can address the points that, if I were in their shoes, would upset me.”

He didn’t say anything, so you continued. “But Harry,” you put a hand on his shoulder and he turned his face ever so slightly to look at you, “remember that sometimes the other side of the argument may not be true and you can’t do anything about it. So if you can’t do anything to change it, don’t let yourself be consumed by it.”

You cracked a small smile, “Plus lavender and chamomile tea always put my mind at ease and it’s easier to sleep after a cuppa I think.”

The conversation ended without his response because Mitch and Sarah came into the main space to make coffee and breakfast. While the three musicians chatted, you slipped back into the cabin to grab your toothbrush and went into the bathroom to brush your teeth and do other things. You curled your eyelashes again, just in case.

After putting your makeup bag back in your backpack, you pulled your laptop out and sat down on your bed after pulled the blinds up. You didn’t get under the covers because it started to get warm in the bus.

“Clare?” The woman in question looked down at you from the top bunk that sat diagonally opposite yours. “Is there wifi on the bus?” She smiled and answered. “Ya, connect to the router ‘only’ and type in for the password ‘angel’.”

You snorted at the namesake of both titles and gave her a thanks. You opened your email account and sent an email to both of your college profs to plead to ask to transfer your work online.

Hello prof!

So, a situation has occurred and I’m going now to be in Europe for the next month. Is there any way I would be able to transfer my classes online for the time being?

Let me know what actions I need to take.

Y/N L/N

After re-reading it a couple times, you sent it off just to get out there before class was supposed to start again.

For the next two hours, you went over the syllabus and tried to find things you’d be able to write about or take pictures of incase your teachers needed a bit more convincing.

You had pulled out your camera and were looking through some of the recent pictures of Europe you had taken for the extra credit assignment your photography teacher had given you when Harry walked back into the sleeping area.

He sat on his bed and pulled his feet into a crisscross applesauce position.

“You’re a photographer?” He inquired. You glanced up at him for a moment and then looked back down in concentration on the picture in front of you and the screen of your laptop.

“Yeah, for class.—Damn, I don’t think this photo qualifies.” “Huh?” Harry hopped off his bed and peaked down to what you were looking at.

“Scoot over.” “What?”

He rolled his eyes are you and squished onto the bed with you. “What are you working on?” He asked with what looked like, honest interest. It surprised you a bit, since why would he care?

He could be doing so many, probably more important things on the ride than sitting with me.

“Well, I’m taking a photography class in college, one of my last actually. I did dual credit classes in high school and only needed a few to technically graduate with my degree.”

“Wha’s your degree ’n?”

“Photography and Media Arts with a minor in Creative Writing.”

He blew a larger breath out and sat back against the pillows you propped up against the wall, “That’s a mouthful innit?”

You smiled and held the camera up a bit to zoom into the picture. “I love it, I actually take photos for a few companies in New York which is exciting. It’ll help that I already have clients leaving college.”

“Where do you go to college?” “NYU.” “Very cool aren’t yeh?” You pushed a strand of hair behind your ear and smiled at the compliment. “So what’s wrong with the picture?” He asked.

“I’m working on an assignment—” “during spring break?!” “—an extra credit assignment, and basically for each of these words I need a picture that correlates to it. The crossed off ones I’ve already completed.”

Harry leaned forward to read the words off your laptop.

Extra Credit Work

Please take photos over this month and relate at least one picture to each word below. Each picture is worth 10 points. You can add a caption about the picture to help it associate in need.

Joy

Sour

Chaos

Silly

Bright

Anguish

Erotic

Heavenly

Red

Enigma

Due May 1st.

“This is the photo I wanted to use for Joy but I don’t know if it's too generic or not.”

You gave him the camera, the photo was of Maggie on the first day in Paris. She was leaning backwards, looking at the Eiffel Tower.

“See, you can’t see her face, which is okay but the body isn’t giving that much expression either so I’m not sure if it will come off as stiff or not.”

He spent a few more moments looking at the picture and then the word. “I think it represents joy perfectly.”

You tilted your head and gave a quizzical expression.

“Look,” he started, “your definition of joy is different from someone else, right? But it’s easier to see that the focus of the photo is in a carefree state, leanin’ back, hair down. An’ I don’t think her body is stiff, ’t’s just relaxed. You can add a caption too if you want right? Maybe add somethin' like, the true feeling of joy ’s when you can finally throw your head back an’ not worry about hittin a wall or som’hin like that.”

He handed you the camera back and you looked at the picture again with a different view on it. “Wow—thank you, that’s honestly just what I needed to hear.” He looked down to his fingers, “can say the same fo’ this morin’, thank you fo’ that.”

Close it quickly Y/N….

Close them…huh?

“Blinds!”

Someone yelled from the main corridor. Harry jumped up from the bed and you pulled your blind shut as he pulled his shut and checked the others.

“Wha’ is it?!” He yelled into the other room, you trailed behind him after putting your things back into your backpack. Adam had a clicker in his hand that put down a black veil over both large windows in the main compartment.

“This bus has blacked-out windows, why the veils?” You asked.

“Cause if fans come up to the bus with a flash camera, it can still take a picture of the inside, this way the veil blocks it out.” The veils still allowed you to see through them sorta and you gasped at the sight before you. It seemed as though hundreds of people had mobbed the as the bus was trying to drive through.

“We’re in Amsterdam.” You stated.

“Yeah,” Mitch replied, “seems as though the fans were tipped off of which hotel we’re staying in or something.” After hearing that, the whole room filled with a slight tension that caused you back to ache.

Clare glanced at her phone, “Jeffery is telling us to brace ourselves cause the hotel doesn’t have a private entrance we could drive through, we’re gonna have to go through the crowd.” The band dispersed to get their stuff.

As you packed up, Harry’s phone started to ring.

“Yeh? Mhm, yeah—fuck you’r right.” The British heartthrob turned to look at you which made you wonder who he was talking to.

“Will do, bye.” He ended the call and took his black hoodie off.

“Give me your sweatshirt, Jeff says we’ve got to make sure you don’t draw too much attention to yourself cause we don’t want a riot since we don’t ‘ave security wit’ us.”

You nodded and shrugged off the pink long sleeve. Once you got the hoodie over your head, you noticed how it engulfed you slightly.

“Got any sunnies?”

You pulled some out from a case in your bag and slipped them on. “We’re as close to the door as we can get, it’s time to go!”

Sarah called out to the band. “Hold you’r backpack in your hand, don’t want them to grab the handle and yank you back.” You only nodded and tied your tennis shoes before following the rest of them out to the door.

“Ready? Open, open, open!”

masterlist

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles series #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles tour 2018 #harry styles concert #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic

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cherryyharryy · 4 years

Text

Quiet Girl

Pairing: Harry and reader

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: None

Harry sauntered into the main campus library. It was rich in earthy woods, three stories, with an imported stained glass window that shone down from the top arch of the top floor, splaying holographic rainbows between noon and three-fifteen over the expanse of the interior each day.

The main desk was occupied by a rotation of students that, Harry was guessing, shouldn’t have nailed their jobs. They were always either in some corner of the place making out, or with their backs turned to the counter, headphones blocking out the little bell that was beaten to death by whomever was fuming on the other side.

This meant that the library really didn’t feel like a library. It had become more of a place where students would hang out. No one was quiet.

No one, except the girl who sat to the side.

Same table. Same position. Same fancy, filter water bottle.

She was always alone every time Harry had come, which was a lot recently, since all of his professors felt the need to declare five page essays or full-blown presentations for midterms.

Instead of bothering her, which he figured that’s what he’d be doing if he pulled the chair out opposite of her, he would sink into one of the leather chairs on the second floor by the windows and drown himself in his work.

***

It was Tuesday. The weather was starting to bug Harry. Leaves were swirling across the paths he took to classes, and girls were gushing over whatever new drink Starbucks had put out. He had to start wearing sweaters which he hated, and his fingers would numb up on the days he had to make it from the math building to his psych class.

So he wasn’t in a particularly peachy mood when Danny came bustling up beside him on the way to the library, dressed in an oversized puffer coat that put a good five inches between him and anyone else.

“You’re turning into a nerd, y'know that?” Danny said.

“S'what I’m going for.”

Danny coughed out a laugh and pushed his friend, earning him a glare. He did, however, hold the massive door open and let him escape the beginning of autumn first, so Harry forgave him, kind of.

Harry tugged his beanie off and wrapped his bare hands into the fabric, rubbing away the bite of cold that’d seeped into his skin before walking up to the computer near the entrance to sign in.

“Shit, I need to start coming here. Screw Jeff’s parties. Look at that.”

Danny nudged Harry’s shoulder, nodding his head to Tiffany who was sat atop one of the student tables, her long tan legs dangling off, almost touching the floor, with a packet of paper in one hand and a strand of boxed strawberry blonde in the other. A small group of girls with equally beautiful hair and perfect skin and designer bags filled up the chairs surrounding the table.

“What about her?” Harry mused.

“What—what about her?” Danny stopped Harry in his slow pace. “Look at her!”

Harry had. He’d seen a lot. A little too much, actually. She’d shown up at his door every day for two weeks after he thought he’d made it clear there was only going to be one night between them.

And then he’d made the mistake of not looking hard enough, because if he had, he wouldn’t of done the same with Bailee, who happened to be best friends with Tiffany, which prompted the pair to target him for about a month, and well…Harry’s been more careful with whom he chooses to bring back to his dorm.

“Let’s go over here.”

“Wha—” Danny squeaked, “you serious?”

Harry rolled his eyes and made his way to the other side of the library. There were five large tables surrounded by a peninsula of books. Tiffany and co. were still visible, but far away enough for Harry to block them out.

They weren’t alone, though. The girl was in her usual spot. Her purple laptop sat propped up on one of the giant atlas books to her left, which was the angle she was always in, an assortment of paper and notebooks and flashcards lay before her, all organized in a way college students never really cared about. The, what Harry assumed to be expensive, water bottle sat to her right, half filled with a cluster of ice bobbing at the top.

Her eyes were trained on the screen, chin resting in the cradle of her palm with a slight slouch to her shoulders. A knitted black sweater covered her top half with the last sparkling effects of an air-born rainbow shining down on her.

Harry’s not sure what encouraged his feet to move in her direction, or what possessed him to pull out the chair across from her, and sit himself down, especially since she looked so at peace and clearly never engaged with whatever chaos was brewing on the other side of the room.

But he did, and Danny followed, plopping down beside him with much more noise. The girl didn’t flinch. Not when Danny’s chair squeaked against the wood floors, or when his book bag tumbled off the table and all its contents spilled out.

Not when an oh, shit! flew out of Danny’s mouth and a for the love of God came out of Harry’s. Her hair was pulled up into its usual bun, where her ears were visibly clear of headphones. And Harry wondered for a second if she might be deaf.

“Why are we over here?” Danny grumbled as he stuffed a handful of crumbled papers into his bag. “Who the Hell is this?”

“Could you shut up for once?” Harry whispered through gritted teeth, angling his body away from the girl and glaring at his very annoying, and very loud, best friend. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know!”

Harry jerked his head back and bit into his bottom lip, one hand gripped the back of his chair, and the other dug into the edge of the table. “Shhh.”

“Oh get off it.”

With a roll of his eyes Harry slowly turned back, seeing no apparent disturbance in the girl.

She must be deaf.

He pulled his essay from his binder and found where he’d left off, nodding to Danny who sat with a slacked jaw, slumped in that damn coat with his opened bag sitting on his lap and an vacant look in his eyes.

After they finally got started on their work, Harry couldn’t stand it any longer. He at the very least needed to know how she’d been able to tune out the obnoxious whiny man-child beside him.

“Hi, uh, sorry we’re so loud.”

Without moving her head from the screen her eyes landed on his. She gave one short nod and went back to her work.

“What’s your name?”

Nothing.

Harry cleared his throat. “What are you working on?”

Nothing.

“Why don’t you sit with anyone?”

This time she turned, emotionless, and shrugged her shoulders before turning back.

Danny’s mouth upturned into a snarl, rolling his eyes at Harry. Harry shook his head and brought his attention back to his paper, opting for the welcomed silence.

***

He wasn’t sure where she’d came from. He asked around, asked if anyone knew of a quiet (possibly deaf?) girl who sat by herself, the one he saw everyday when he’d go in to study or write, or put flash cards and to-do lists together.

But no one knew. They’d apologize and go on with their day.

So you haven’t any idea, not even a name?

No, sorry. She doesn’t ring a bell.

Maybe she was shy. Or maybe she was scared. Maybe someone was dying, or maybe she’d been hurt too much for far too long.

But that was the thing, she didn’t seem…sad. Didn’t mean she wasn’t, this was just Harry’s unprofessional and rather, careless, observation.

It didn’t take long before she started sneaking up on him. First when he’d pass the library on his way to economics, then it was when he would be in idle thought, in line at the grocery store, or waiting for the next song to buffer.

But when he woke up one morning and she’d been in his head all night, that’s when it hit him. Her eyes were bright and reminded him of summer, with the reminiscent memory of high school parties, no thanks to the electric blue bouncing off the laptop.

Her skin was pretty. A line here, a bump there. Usually etched in the same kind of concentration as his sister when she was planning her divorce.

Her bottom lip was always pulled in, tightly gripped between her teeth, and when she’d release it to bring the pricy water bottle to her mouth, there’d be marks and swelling.

Harry was something of a daydreamer. No professional, by any means, but he’s been known to drift off at times he really needed to be paying attention. So it’s not surprising, when, images of this quiet girl descending from Heaven with wings sparkling in gold entered his mind. Maybe she was an angel on duty, watching over someone.

Or perhaps mythical creatures suit her better. Yeah…she’s definitely a fairy, hailing from the deepest parts of the most luminous forest, sent here to form a peace offering so her home won’t be destroyed.

Or, mermaid? Is he really going to go there? Yes. She more than likely emerged from the salty waters, wandered around his college town on her new legs. It’d make sense…lack of vocalization, undisturbed concentration…

But of course, he must come back to reality. She’s probably just stressed. Maybe she had a boyfriend and perceived his desire to talk as something to avoid. Or maybe she’d just had surgery and her throat hurt to speak.

Maybe she was just quiet?

***

For the next few weeks Harry found himself sitting across from the girl who didn’t talk and had a will power made of steel, in the afternoons. Danny trailed along, dividing his time up between his own class work and sliding into one of the unoccupied chairs on the other side of the room, where either Tiffany and her group had set up, or some other group of people that treated the library as some kind of lounge.

He’d asked a few more questions, all earning an unamused nod or shrug of her shoulders before he’d let whatever project he’d been stressing over swallow him up. Today it was his sociology presentation. If it wasn’t going to be the ten page report that killed him, the fifteen hours of volunteering he’d lied about doing surely would.

After an hour of fine tuning slides, he shut his laptop and pulled out a bag of jelly beans, picking around to avoid the white ones. Danny stumbled over from where he’d been barking out laughs with half a sorority house, and slid into his seat, holding his hand out and blinking at Harry.

“Why should I?”

“I give up my afternoons so you don’t have to sit here alone, that’s why.”

Harry swallowed as his lips kicked up into a smile. “Right, and you never ditch me t'sit your horny ass down over there.” He nodded to the other side and scooped a handful of candy into his mouth.

“S'not the point,” Danny argued, jerking his hand closer to the bag.

“It’s exactly the point. Whatever, here.” Harry dropped the bag into Danny’s awaiting hand.

Harry faced forward and took in a breath, giving his pointless attempts one more go. “Do you want any jelly beans?”

The girl shook her head, not even bothering to look.

“They’re the regular kind. Nine of that weird, moss flavored—”

“The Hell? There’s no fuckin’ moss flavored jelly b—”

“Shut up, Danny.”

“No thanks.”

Harry froze, questioning whether the soft whisper was real or his own imagination. “I don’t ever see you around,” he tried. She rolled her lips in and shook her head, giving him a good two seconds of eye contact. “Do you ever go to any of the parties?”

“No.”

Harry’s heart was sprinting, and his brain was spouting off question after question, wanting to spew them all out before she went on lockdown again.

“Are you writing a paper?” He nodded to her screen.

She bit her cheek, and unsurprisingly shook her head. “S'a discussion board.”

“Oh yeah, I hate those.”

They sat in silence, other than the sound of jelly beans falling from the bag and hitting Danny’s teeth, for a few minutes before Harry opened his mouth again.

“Why don’t any of your friends come here with you?”

She straightened her back and brought her full attention to Harry, stopping time for a few seconds with a blank stare before focusing back on her typing.

“Who do you hang out with here?”

And now she was back to nothing. No minuscule movement or any sign she’d been paying attention.

“Well do you—”

“S'cause she’s got no friends,” Danny snarled, “why should she?” He snatched the nearly empty bag of candy and yanked his bag off the floor before rising and sliding into the chair at the next table.

Harry reached his hands out, halting at the midway point between him and the girl, and splayed them out on the table. “He didn’t mean that.”

Her chin dropped to her chest before inching her head to face Harry, glassy eyes rimmed red with a tear dotting its way down each cheek.

“Yes he did. S'true.”

#i liked this when i first wrote it a couple years ago #and now i hate it #i’ve just tried editing it and i really hate it #maybe that’s a good thing though?#a sign that i’ve improved a little bit in two years?#idk #harry styles story #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #cherryyharryy

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jaxl-road · 4 years

Text

The League of Extraordinary Rockstars, ch.6

Summary: LA is a hub for music and mutants, making it the perfect place for Motley Crue, Guns N’ Roses, and countless other mutant musicians to call home. But it’s not all easy, especially when it comes to finding a decent place to live. So what better solution than moving in together in the mansion of an immortal? Love, drama, and super powers. If nothing else, it’ll be interesting.

Chapter Warnings: Language, genderswap!Steven

AN: This is a collaboration between myself and @the–blackdahlia! It combines elements from her fic “It’s So Easy (And Other Lies)” (specifically her genderswapped!Steven) and my super powered GnR series. It is completely AU and ignores timelines like Woah, but hopefully you’ll have as much fun reading it as we’re having writing it! Let us know what you think!

~~~~~~~~~~

Stevie shut the door and was surprised to find Duff’s lips on hers within seconds of the latch clicking. She let him kiss her for a moment before she ducked to the side and sat on the edge of her bed.

“I meant actually talk,” She laughed.

“Oh, that wasn’t just an excuse?” Duff’s cheeks were red, “Oops.”

Shaking her head fondly, Stevie chuckled and patted the mattress beside her, “It’s okay.” She waited until he was sitting beside her to continue, wringing her hands nervously. She was well aware that there were a million ways this conversation could go wrong, including Duff storming out angrily and never speaking to her again.

“So, I wanted to talk because…” She fumbled to find the right words, “I really like you,” she finally blurted out.

“I… like you too?” Duff responded slowly, “Not that I don’t like hearing it, but didn’t we kind of have this conversation last night?”

“No, yeah, we did,” Stevie cursed herself. Why was she so bad at this? “I just wanted to start with that because… something happened earlier today.” Duff opened his mouth to respond, his face painted with concern, but Stevie cut him off, deciding to just rip the band-aid off, “I almost kissed Izzy. Or, we almost kissed each other. I wanted to kiss him, because I have a crush on him, and I thought it would go away after we got together but it’s not.”

For a moment, they stared at each other in silence, Duff’s face blank before quietly responding, “...Oh.”

"I'm sorry, and you'll probably hate me, but I was talking to Kelly earlier-"

"That's never a good idea."

"-and, he suggested maybe we could try inviting Izzy in…"

Duff blinked in surprise, “Invite him… huh,” he hummed in consideration, “Well, first of all, I definitely don’t hate you,” he smiled shyly, and Stevie couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

“Good,” She laced their fingers together, “because I don’t want to lose you. That’s the whole problem. I like both of you, and can’t bring myself to choose one of you over the other, y’know? But…” she frowned, looking up at him, “would you be okay with something like that? I don’t want you to feel like you have to do something if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“I just… I’ve never been in a relationship like that," Duff admitted.

“Me neither,” Stevie answered, “But, I mean, if Izzy is okay with it, then we can figure it out together, right?”

Duff let out a huff of laughter, “That’s true. And I mean, Izzy is pretty great…” he trailed off, tugging on the dark strand of hair by his neck absently.

Stevie blinked in surprise, “Wait, really?”

“Well, yeah, I… I mean he’s, y’know…”

Stevie felt her jaw drop as she watched a blush spread across Duff’s cheeks as he stuttered. “Oh my God," she exclaimed, "you have a crush on him too??”

“What? No!” But Duff was still blushing, “It’s not a- I mean it’s Izzy, and he’s so-... I haven’t thought about it before!” He shoved her shoulder lightly as she burst out laughing, “Oh shut up!”

"Izzy and Duff sitting in a tree," Stevie sang.

"Oh shut up, you like him too!" Duff started tickling her sides, making her laugh.

"Mercy! I give!" Stevie tried to pull away, but Duff pulled her back, tickling more. Soon they were both out of breath, collapsing to lay next to each other on the bed. After a few minutes, Stevie chuckled, “Man, I envisioned this conversation going a lot worse.”

“Honestly me too,” Duff admitted, “You said you wanted to talk and then you said you liked me and I kept waiting for you to say ‘but just as a friend’.”

They both laughed, “No, I like you just a bit more than that,” Stevie replied, leaning over to give him a quick kiss on the lips. Flopping back onto the bed, she hummed in thought, “So… how do we do this then?”

Duff hesitated before answering, “Do you mind if we wait a bit before talking to Izzy? Or at least sleep on it?” he asked, “I really am down to try this, but I’m still wrapping my head around being with you. And I wasn’t lying when I said I hadn’t really thought about Izzy, y’know, that way before.”

Stevie giggled softly as a faint flush spread across his face again, “You suuuure about that?” she teased, poking his cheek.

Lightly slapping her hand away, Duff pouted, “I don’t- it’s complicated!” He shoved a pillow over Stevie’s face when she started laughing again. “Look all I’m saying is, could we maybe take a day or two to think more about it before we figure out how to bring it up to him?”

In truth, Stevie was impatient. If she had her way, she’d have them knocking on Izzy’s door right now. She’d spent so long wanting both of them, and now it felt like they were so close. Like she had a solution to everything she wanted right at her fingertips. She didn’t want to wait.

But she understood where Duff was coming from, and hey, she’d managed this long, so what was a few more days? She still had one of her boys, and that was already more than she thought she’d get.

“Of course,” she nodded, “that’s totally fine.”

"Good. Now, are we gonna ‘talk’?" Duff wiggled his eyebrows.

"Oh my god, you're horrible," she laughed, lacing her fingers with his, "But the best kind of horrible."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Izzy sighed as he watched the sky outside his window slowly lighten as morning came. He had slept fitfully, and he knew he should grab some breakfast soon given that he had skipped dinner the night before, but he couldn’t seem to make himself get up and face the day. He was well aware that he was moping, but who could blame him? Rolling over to face the wall, he cursed himself for letting himself get his hopes up.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t known Duff was also crushing on the drummer, so how did he really think this would end? Between the two of them, Izzy didn’t stand a chance. Duff, who was so tall, and bright, and handsome. Who smiled and laughed nearly as much as Stevie, and literally made the sun shine for her.

"Why would she even like me?" Izzy mumbled to himself. As he laid there, his mind continued to dwell on the tall drink that had won her heart. That perfect smile, those long legs, the way he would belly laugh when he told those really lame jokes...

….Wait.

“Why do I have a type?” Izzy groaned. “Why does all this shit happen to me?” He pulled his pillow over his face. It wasn’t fair. Pining after one friend was bad enough, he wasn’t about to brood over two. Nope. Not doing it.

Suddenly, a loud BANG BANG BANG sounded against his door, startling him so bad he fell through his bed, grunting as he landed on his back and blinked up at the bottom of his bed frame.

“WAKE THE FUCK UP, STADLIN!” Axl’s voice boomed. How did he manage to be so loud without using his powers? “You’ve had three days off, you lazy fucks, time to get back to work!”

Izzy groaned, listening to Axl’s voice echo through the house as he continued his mission of rousing the members of Guns N’ Roses.

"Holy fuck!" Axl screeched as he backed out of Slash's room. Izzy raised an eyebrow as he walked through his door.

"What's wrong? See slash naked?" Izzy laughed.

"Who said he could have fucking snakes?" Axl snapped.

"That's called a penis, Bill." Izzy teased. Axl glared the guitarist down.

"Fuck you, Jeff," Axl huffed as he walked off. Heading downstairs, he made his way to Duff’s room, but frowned when he saw the door open and no one inside. He shrugged it off, figuring he would track the weather witch down later. Grinning, he placed himself in front of Stevie’s door.

“UP AND AT ‘EM, SUNSHINE!” He yelled, raising his foot to kick the door loudly.

However, he miscalculated the strength of the old door, and instead of simply banging loudly as he had intended, the kick sent the door bursting open. He stumbled forward in surprise, flailing to regain his balance. Cursing quietly, he braced himself to be chewed out by the drummer.

Looking up though, he found himself staring down not just his drummer, but his bassist too. Duff and Stevie had both shot up in bed at the sound of the door slamming open, their hair a tangled mess of blonde and a very notable lack of clothing on either of them.

For a few seconds, the three merely blinked at each other. The Axl broke into a slow, sly grin.

“Oh. My. God.”

Just like that, Duff and Stevie were broken from their stupor, both scrambling to pull the sheets over them, Stevie holding a pillow in front of her chest as she shrieked, “What the FUCK, Axl?” her eyes wide and face bright red.

Axl covered his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter, "I, uh, well, you see…"

"What's going oh-oh holy shit!" Slash stood there. "About fucking time!"

"Get out!" Stevie shrieked, but that just sent more people running to her room. Duff flopped onto his back, burying his face in his hands as their housemates crowded around their doorway.

Nikki and Tommy cheered when they peeked their heads in, “Yeah, dude, get it!” Vince wolf whistled, Baz yelled something about getting a camera, while Kelly and Mick stood in the hallway shaking their heads.

“Remind me why I agreed to this living situation?” Kelly sighed.

“Beats me. I always knew you were whacked in the head,” Mick mumbled. He then stepped forward, calling out, “Hey, like, half of you owe me fucking money now!” He was met with a chorus of groans as Axl, Baz, Nikki, and Tommy, reluctantly handed over crumpled dollar bills.

“You were betting on us??” Duff’s indignant voice cried out.

Kelly snorted. He saw a dark shape out of the corner of his eye and when he turned he found Izzy standing beside him, a carefully neutral look on his face.

"Hey Izzy," Stevie waved at him, but Duff saw her light dim when he didn't even acknowledge her.

"Hey grumpy gus," Baz laughed.

“Of course I’m grumpy, I got woken up by fucking Axl pounding on my door,” he grumbled, trying to cover for his sour mood.

“Hey, we all got woken up by Axl,” Slash countered.

“He literally kicked my door in!” Stevie chimed in.

“He woke me up nicely,” Sebastian smirked, resting his chin on the top of Axl’s head and winking as the rest of the group groaned and gagged.

“Yeah, well, in case you all forgot,” the red head huffed, “we’re supposed to be in a fucking band. I gave you all three days off, time to get the fuck back to work.”

"Can I at least put clothes on?" Stevie asked.

"Does she have to?" Tommy pouted. Duff glared at him.

"Guys, get out so Stevie can change," Kelly started pushing them out but stayed in the room. "Man, that was tough."

"Everyone means you too, Kelly," Stevie growled.

“Aw come on, it’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before.” His teasing smirk dropped when a loud roll of thunder sounded above them and he sighed dramatically, “Fine, fine.”

When the door finally closed behind him, Stevie moved the pillow from her chest to her face and groaned loudly into it. Duff pat her back sympathetically, “All things considered, I think that could have gone a lot worse.”

"Izzy looked pissed," Stevie sighed, "And Axl needs to learn to knock!" Duff noticed that Stevie's light was dim, like when she was sad. He pulled her close to him.

“Hey, maybe he really was just mad at Axl,” Duff wasn’t sure he himself believed that, but it certainly wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility, “Plus, he always looks at least a little pissed,” he teased.

"Tommy says he needs to get laid," Stevie giggled. There was a bang at the door.

"Hurry the fuck up or so help me…" Axl growled. Stevie sighed.

"Let's go," she told Duff. The both got dressed, Duff opting to just throw on his clothes from the day before which were laying on the ground. On their way out, Duff grabbed his bass from his room before they made their way over to the rest of the band.

On the other side of the house, between the living room and the kitchen, was a room that they were pretty sure was meant to be a dining room. But they had piled the household's various instruments, amps, and equipment into the room to turn it into a makeshift practice space. It was here that Duff and Stevie found Izzy, Axl, and Slash waiting for them.

"About time," Slash laughed, "Too busy working out that mattress?"

"Oh shut up," Stevie rolled her eyes and went to her drums. "I hope you're not out of tune, babies." She ran her fingers on the drums.

"Bet you want her to touch you like that," Slash elbowed Duff.

"Don't we have anything better to do, like fucking practicing our music?" Izzy snapped.

Stevie, Duff, and Slash all whipped their heads around to look at him, eyes wide at the rhythm guitarist’s outburst. Duff bit his lip, seeming conflicted, and Stevie looked like she wanted to cry, but before any of them could say anything, Axl darted over, throwing an arm around Izzy’s shoulders.

“Thank you! At least someone here is committed to the dream,” he ruffled Izzy’s hair, his hand slapped away almost immediately, and as Izzy stared down at his guitar, Axl sent a warning glance at the other three. “Well? Let’s get a fucking move on.”

Izzy risked a glance up at Stevie when Slash and Duff went to their places, and he felt his heart break. She looked so sad, and while she normally had a bright aura to her, today it was dim.

Fuck, what did he do?

The guilt ate at him, but he didn’t get too much chance to dwell on it. Axl was quick to start barking out orders, warming up his voice while the others checked their tuning, and anytime Izzy felt himself start to fall back into his dark thoughts, the red head would suddenly be there antagonizing him, poking his side and demanding that he replay the chorus of some song or accusing him of being off rhythm or clapping at him to play faster. The self deprecating thoughts couldn’t stand up to Axl’s snapping voice.

It wasn’t long before all of them finally were able to get lost in the music. They fine-tuned the songs they wanted to record next time they snagged some studio time, ran through some old favorites, and talked about a few melodies they hoped to expand on. Still, when they all agreed to call it a day, all it took was a glance at the two blondes for Izzy to feel his heart sink again. Placing his guitar on his stand, he didn’t even bother saying anything as he exited the room.

“Izzy-” Stevie’s voice called after him, but he ignored it, only walking faster. As he passed through the kitchen, he spared a moment to snag a bottle of whiskey off the counter before continuing up the stairs. As he ascended, he heard footsteps following after him.

“Iz.”

He walked faster, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Izzy, hang on!”

As he slipped through the door into his room, he hoped that maybe he would be left alone. He just wanted to drink, and wallow, and maybe break something.

But there was no hesitation in the fist that banged on the door, “Let me in, Stradlin.” Axl’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was firm.

“Go the fuck away,” he growled back.

The knocking continued. Izzy’s door had been locked since the day he moved in. “I swear to God if you don’t open up this fucking door I’m going to kick it in, I’ve already done it once today, I’d fucking love to be two for two.”

Izzy pressed his fists against his eyes, his teeth grinding in frustration. Axl would do it, he knew he would. Glaring heatedly, he stormed over and threw the door open, “What, Axl? What the fuck do you want?”

“I want to make sure my best friend is okay,” Axl bit back.

“I’m fine,” Izzy ground out in response, “Is that all?” He moved to close the door, but Axl threw his arm against it, forcing it back open.

“Come on, don’t fucking lie to me.” For a moment Axl looked like he was going to snap out something else, but then he paused. Sighing gently, his face softened, “Look... I’m sorry. About Stevie,” Izzy practically flinched at the name, but Axl continued, “I just… I’m here for you, okay? You don’t have to deal with it by yourself. I get it, man. I understand-”

“How the fuck could you possibly understand how I feel?” Izzy suddenly snapped, throwing his arms out as the words spilled out of him like a broken dam, “You have no idea what it’s like! You have Baz! You have the person you love, and you’re together and happy and… fuck!” He slammed his hand against the wall in frustration.

Axl had taken a step back during the outburst, staring up at Izzy with wide eyes. There was a moment of silence as they stared at each other. Then Axl’s eyes narrowed.

“You think I don’t know what it’s like?” His voice was a low hiss, not loud or high pitched, but Izzy could still feel the power in it- could feel an ominous vibration in his sternum as the words hit him.

The singer took a step forward, and this time it was Izzy who backed away as he continued, “You honestly think I don’t know what it feels like? To love someone who doesn’t love you back- who will never love you back? You think I don’t understand feeling like the person you love more than anything is so close but still out of reach? That I've never had to watch them love someone else while I pieced myself back together by myself? Are you really that fucking blind?!” His final words were emphasized with a harsh shove, sending Izzy stumbling back a few steps.

Izzy blinked, speechless, trying to wrap his head around what was happening. Axl’s eyes looked glassy and wet even as he snarled quietly, “Fuck you, Jeff.”

Pivoting on his heel, Axl stomped out, slamming the door shut behind him. Izzy listened to the faint sounds of footsteps retreating downstairs before he sat heavily on his bed. For a few minutes he could only stare blankly at the floor.

Then he grabbed the whiskey bottle and took a long, long drink.

#getting into the fun part aka ANGST #Guns n Roses #gnr #motley crue #fem!Steven #duff mckagan #slash #axl rose #izzy stradlin #Nikki Sixx #tommy lee #Vince Neil #mick mars #superpower au #my writing #other people's writing #fun fact: Jax is addicted to italics

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woopboopboop · 4 years

Text

Of promises

Note: Trigger warning!!! There is mention of suicide in this story. If you are uncomfortable, I suggest that it would be better to not proceed or you can proceed at you own discretion.

Look who’s back at it again! This is one is kinda fluffy and angsty at the same time? I don’t quite know. I’ll let you be the judge. Happy reading, babes.

I am not going to lie. I think about you almost all the time. I think about you when I am at work too. It’s amusing how the thought of you keep on appearing in my mind no matter how focus I am on something else. As I listen intently to the added vocals blending in with the strumming of guitar and mellow bass sound of the latest track, I can’t help but think of the time when you peeked over the book you were reading and concentrating on the random strumming patterns that I was experimenting one evening. You seemed fixated to the melody even commented how good it sounds and that was when I knew it needs to be in one of my songs. I unconsciously shake my head, smiling at the thought.

“What are you smiling at?” Kid asks, approaching the mixing console where I am standing next to.

“Just – thinking of something,” I say, scratching an invisible itch behind my ear, smiling sheepishly.

“Your wife?” Kid raises his eyebrows at me before returning to tweak some knobs on the board.

I try to hide my growing smile but it doesn’t really work. “Yeah. My wife.”

I am used to the band, Jeff and everyone else teasing me but when it comes to you, boy oh boy, do they have newfound love for it. “Lovebirds”, “Head over heels”, “Totally smitten” are just some of the words they use to describe us. You know this, of course, because I share about the things that we talk about during studio breaks or even random things that we did inside or outside of studio. Sometimes, you join in on their teasing game. But I don’t mind at all. They make the butterflies in me come alive and I live for the feeling after all. They make me think of you and I love having you on my mind.

The clock is way past midnight when I reach home. After fumbling with the house key for a while, I finally gain entrance, kicking my boots to the side and setting both the house and car keys on the wall key hooks. With the guidance from the living room dim lighting, I walk towards the kitchen to get a glass of cold water. Opening up the fridge door, the light bathes a portion of the kitchen wall and floor in a soft, yellow hue. It is then that I remember you asked me to grab milk from the nearby shop. “If you don’t mind,” you added.

I curse under my breath not because I despise the domestic act but because I actually forgot about doing the exact thing and I only have the ability to remember it now. I have to admit that you are the one who is better in remembering things be it dates or appointments. As for the milk, I will get it tomorrow.

Carrying my heavy footsteps upstairs, I notice the beam of light from beneath the door signifying that you left the light on. I tiptoe to flick off the light switch after switching on the table lamp on your side. The room is in total darkness except for the light from your half illuminating the room dimly. We agreed that only the light from your side will be on when we are sleeping after I vividly recall you telling me that you are not a fan of sleeping in the dark. You tell me about things that scare you and things that make you happy afterwards a lot and I also share mine.

I sit down carefully on the bed and watch you sleep facing my side of the mattress. Haruki Murakami’s Men Without Women is lying face down on the bed just a few inches from your chest. Closing it, I put the book along with other collections of Murakami in the bedside drawer behind me. I can’t help but notice an unfamiliar book residing in the drawer, I guess you bought it recently to add on our reading list. Yes, our reading list. In fact, there a lot of our things in this house and for each passing day, there will always be some new addition. Just like when there is a new record added to the existing little tower of vinyl records in the study room, new set of rings on the vanity or even new mugs with minimalist design in the kitchen.

Every object in each room of this house is an embodiment of us, together or individually. Though, I have to say that your presence was stronger because when I step into a space, I feel you. I feel your presence now too but at times it feels like it is fading away before it comes again in a crashing wave. I remember the time we talked about this over a cup of coffee. On that day, we shared our most complex struggles through simple words and comforting gestures.

Like my eyes always do, they return to you. The soft light in the room highlights certain features on your face and it begins to darkened towards the part where you have your face buried in the pillow. A sudden rush of warmth creeps behind my neck, making its way to my ear. The electrifying and alluring feeling is still the same as the one that I felt when we shared our first kiss. In fact, every touch and small gestures exchanged between us, especially now, brings more intensified feelings. You look so peaceful, frozen in time, except for your eyes darting back and forth behind your shut eyelids and the rising and falling of your breathing.

Your hair is everywhere with some strands falling on your upper arm, hiding two scars located at the same place which can hardly be seen. You always try to hide the scar, not liking the reasons behind it but I always tell you that things happened for a reason and that I will always love you and promise that I will be by your side if you need me. There is a scoff of disbelief on your face at first before your eyes soften and thank me for willing to be by your side. I love kissing the scar just as a reminder that I love you. I love kissing it without any reasons too. It has a slightly different colour from the rest of the skin on your body where I love to leave kisses as well. Hell, I just love to kiss you. No question asked. But I love to see you like this too, so I refrain myself from waking you up.

You shift for a bit in your sleep and a strand of hair falls down across your face. As if it is a reflex action, I move the strand away and tuck it behind your ear. My finger caresses the shell of your ear and you jaw with the slightest pressure. I notice your eyes fluttering, as if they want to open or maybe you are just dreaming.

“Hey,” you mumble when you gaze is focusing on me.

“Hey.”

We bask in silence for quite a while and I thought that you go right back to sleep but then I hear you asking me, “What?”

“Nothing. Just watching you.”

You squint your eyes and pull the duvet to cover half of your face, “Creep.”

“But you love it.” I stick my tongue out and you pull the duvet until it’s not covering you face anymore, sticking your tongue back at me. My lips find their way to your forehead, leaving a soft kiss before I disappear to the bathroom to change.

Coming back, I see you starting to fall asleep again. I smile and breathe in your presence for a moment before joining you on the mattress. Your eyes are fluttering open again as I caress your chin with my thumb and forefinger. My thumb stops at your cheekbone and I whispered a quite sorry. You shake you head and lean closer to me. We exchange long and gentle kisses, fingers wandering to every place that they can reach. And we don’t stop until both of us run out of breath. I don’t want to stop. Ever. Not when your fingers are tugging my hair slightly and mine resting on the nape of your neck to deepen our kiss.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, worried lines shadowing on your face.

I prop myself up on one elbow and carefully lay out the words. “It’s about the trip.”

You look more aware than anything at this moment, bottom lip pouting a bit, “I’m not going to like this, huh?”

“I’m so sorry, love. I’ve checked the date, I swear, but unfortunately it clashes with some promotions stuff that’s going to happen. The team and I confirmed the date and we can’t move it to another time.” I look into your eyes, hoping that I am not letting you down too much. You have been very excited for the trip, talking endlessly about it.

“Babe?” I call out and see your eyes regain their focus and concentrate on mine. Head falling deeper into your pillow, you hum, asking me to repeat whatever was said.

“The date for the trip clashes with my work. I’m so sorry. Really.”

“It’s okay. I understand,” you whisper, drawing circles on the back of my hand. “When can we go then?” It sounds more like curiosity than anything else.

Leaning down, I kiss your nose and you scrunch up your face, giggling softly. “In three weeks time. I promise.”

“H, you are promising a lot of things. Don’t think I’ll forget all of them.” I know you are serious beneath the joking tone of your voice. I lay back on the mattress, reaching over to snuggle into the dip of your neck. The faint scent of chamomile lingers in the air where I am hiding. After sponging few kisses on your neck and holding you close, I loosen my grip and move away from the crook of your neck. My eyes move from looking at you lips, to your nose and finally setting on your eyes.

“I intend to fulfil each and every one of them. You are stuck with me for a long time. Don’t think you’ll forget about that too?” You nod your head and both of us giggle. When the giggling stop, we are left with gazing into each other's eyes, as if we are looking for something. I found something behind yours, despite the dim light trying to hide away whatever it is in the shadow.

“You okay there?”

“Yeah.” I feel the little space between us closing in and our lips brush each other. You are no longer sleepy and I am no longer tired.

A single sun ray wakes me up in the morning. I jump up, panic at first but then it dawns on me that I have today off. Your side of mattress is empty. I roll over and bury my face on your pillow, smelling in the chamomile scent.

I lift my head when I hear the sound of water running from the bathroom. Bare naked, I cross the room in a number of strides and is reminded about last night when I encounter our clothes mingling together in a messy heap on the floor. I blush thinking about it as if it is our first. I knock on the bathroom door, calling out your name. Silence. I turn the knob slowly and push the door open expecting that you will be standing under the shower, asking me to join you there.

I am about to greet you good morning but see that there’s no one in the shower but the marble tiles staring back. As I lower down my vision, I find you slumping against the glass door. An angry stream making its way from your wrist down the drain, a huge contrast from your skin colour. Suddenly, I don’t know what to do. I am panicking. I rush over your limb body, wrapping the wound with whatever that I could find at the time. I pick you up and get you in a purple robe before I grab the clothes from last night and put it on. You feel so light and so heavy at the same time in my arms as I carry you to my car.

I fumble with the key in my hand. I don’t even know if I have locked the front door or not. I keep on calling your name as if it is a chant that can get you to magically wake up. All of this while trying to stay sane when in actual reality the world feels like it is slipping from my grasp. I wish that you reply my calling with any incoherent sentence or even garbled sounds. But you don’t answer. You don’t wake up.

When reaching hospital, I can only vision what a sight we are to those waiting there. “Please, help me!” I call out to no specific person. Everything just goes by so quickly and in a blur as the nurses push your bed towards the emergency room. Why aren’t you finishing my words when I try my best to explain what happened to the doctor? Why aren’t you opening your eyes when the doctor barks command to the nurses? Why aren’t you struggling when they put on the bed? Why aren’t you here to comment how ridiculous I must have look with my damp, wrinkled, half unbuttoned shirt? I don’t even notice the bloody patches on my shirt if I don’t button it up.

I stay out of everyone’s way and lean against the pillar near the entrance. A woman approaches me and pass me a document that I need to fill. I make a beeline for the counter so that I have a flat surface to write the paper on. As I fill in the paper, the nurse presses me for any information and I answer as best as I could but then I keep on thinking of you. I think about the milk that I forgot to buy. I think about the trip that I postponed last night. I think about the upcoming tour and that I promised you will stay longer with me this time. I think about all of the promises made, waiting to be fulfilled over our happily ever after.

“Have you call her family?” asks the same nurse. I must have look so distraught trying to fill the blank spaces and answer her questions. I stare at her for a moment to process her question. I want to say to her that I am your family. She is about to repeat the question when I shake my head.

“Call them. Let them know what’s happening.” She waits a couple of minutes until I finish filling up the paperwork. The waiting room is filled with a lot of noises given the works that are going on here but I feel so alone. The worst of thoughts come creeping in and start becoming louder each passing minute. I snap back and remember that I need to inform mum and your mother about the situation. Mum is very much heartbroken over the phone when I tell her about what is going on. It’s a bit funny that I am the one who consoles her instead of the other way around. I can’t blame her though. She loves you so much that she regards you as her second daughter.

I don’t know whether I prefer to be with family and friends at the moment or to be alone. The clock ticks slowly while things around me are moving at a normal speed. I feel a hand on my shoulder. Turning around, Mitch stands behind me and Sarah besides him. She hugs me without saying any words and Mitch offers me a weak smile.

“She’s going to be all right,” they assure me. I don’t know what else to say so I thank them.

Almost all of our close friends are here, waiting for any news from the doctor or nurses. I don’t dare to pay attention to their presence and kindness because I may break down and cry. That is the last thing that I need in this situation. “What is taking them so long,” I mutter, pacing back and forth, occasionally running my fingers through my hair. Sometimes they interlace with the curls for a while as I try to remain calm, taking deep breaths here and there. I need to be strong for both of us.

More people arrive and then I hear a familiar voice. Mum’s. Standing up, I greet her, Gemma as well as your mother with a hug. Your family is here too. I recount what happened to them and I can’t help but choke on few words as I feel the tears threatening to spill. They look so worried, afraid even, especially your mother since she knows you well enough to know that there are times when it can be so hard for you. And I am worried and afraid too.

In the midst of things happening, Mum finds her way to mother me, “Have you eaten?” Her question reminds me that you would do the same too. Regardless what the situation is. Trust me.

I get up from my seat and walk as fast as I can to the toilet. Finding the nearest toilet bowl, I vomit. I would think that there is nothing left inside of me after seeing you slumped in the shower this morning but I keep on vomiting until the only thing left is the bitter taste in my mouth. My knees buckle against the cold tiles. I feel a hand running up and down my back and see mum kneeling besides me. She holds me so tight, afraid that if she let go, I will break into tiny pieces.

“Everything’s fine. She’s going to be fine.” Her voice soft and soothing.

“No. She’s not.” I let out a sob, both hands fling to my face, covering my eyes, pressing hard against them. I don’t know if admitting it to myself or saying it out loud is harder.

I try not to cave into the heavy feelings but it is a total failure when the thought of being able to stop you is more overpowering. “She’s barely breathing when I found her. I call out for her but she didn’t respond at all. God knows, how long she had been there before I found her. I should’ve been there. I should’ve noticed it earlier when she looked a bit different last night. I should have known. This is my – ”

“Harry, do you love her?” She holds my face between her hands.

I nod, wiping stray tears falling down my cheeks. I am crying again.

“Sometimes, no matter what you do, you can’t protect the people who you love all the time. Things that happened to them is out of your hands. At times like this, the only thing that you can do is pray for them. Pray for her. Continue to love her. That’s all that you can ask of yourself. Things happen for a reason.”

She let go of her hands that cradles my face and hold my hands instead. The words sound weird when you are on the receiving end. Things happen for a reason. I always say that to you and it makes me think if you ever feel the same way as I did when I heard the words. Sadly, it doesn’t really bring comfort. It only leaves you in wonder of what is the reason behind all of this and what did I do to deserve such thing.

Friends and family sit patiently in the waiting room. It feels like an eternity waiting to be allowed in the same room as yours. The doctor approaches me to further inform the state that you are in and to be honest, after he says that you are in a stable condition, I am in and out of the conversation. I just need to see you on my own to believe that you are totally okay.

I sit beside you quietly and hold your hand gently. I don’t want to risk waking you up since the doctor told me that you need the rest. Your hand is cold as I hold it with my own. The fingers of my other hand touch your securely bandaged wrist. If you were to be awake, I guess you will make fun of my matching red nose, cheeks and eyes. I smile thinking about it. Carefully, I bring your bandaged hand to my cheek, then littering feathery kisses on your knuckles. I then nestle your hand onto the sheet but not letting go of our intertwined hands. I love holding your hands too. I love how we pass secret message by squeezing each other hands when we are in public. I love it more now that I can see both of our wedding bands adorning our fingers when we hold hands.

Watching you in this state, the only thing that I want more than anything is for you to wake up. I want to see the colour in your eyes again. I want to hold your hands firmly and not letting go. I want to feel your presence in this space. I am willing to do anything and everything just to get you to say my name. My mind drifts to the conversations that we had last night and I remember you teasing me about the promises that I made. I know I have a bad track record of keeping my promises but just know that I meant it when I say I want to fulfil them. The only thing that I need right now is for you to wake up and you will see that I am here as promised.

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