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creativeashproductions · 3 years

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What If...? V // Alive!Luke Patterson

Summary: 1995 was Sunset Curve’s big break in the music world with a successful future. Between 1995-2004 a handful of things happen: Playing the Orpheum, the band buying a house, a car accident, a reconciliation, an engagement, a wedding and children. All things that potentially may have not happened had the boys continued to eating sketchy hot dogs from a car.

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy, labour, minor angst and a bunch of fluff.

Words: 3.1k

Requested: By @beautifulblogsblog. The last part of your request 🥺😭

A/N: Wow. The last part in the What If…? Mini series is here. This was incredibly fun to write and while I wrote the last two parts I played a few covers and rewrites of Unsaid Emily. This is the first finished series. I’ll also let everyone know that there will be a part three for Lost Time.

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Masterlist

Hospital Maternity Room #284, 1999

“Have a child, they said. Pregnancy is a beautiful thing they said. I can confirm that asshole that said that had a dick.” You hissed from the hospital bed. A contraction contracting your midsection.

Nancy Y/L/N and Emily Patterson took up residence in the chairs on either side of Y/N Patterson in the afternoon of 1999. Nancy had been using the previous months making a scrapbook for the baby; the first bit with copies of photos from Luke and your baby stages. The rest would be the first year of your baby’s life.

“Would you like some ice chips?” Emily asked focused on knitting the baby hat for her impending grandchild.

Mitch and Lance each had made themselves scarce from the hospital in favour of working leaving the women alone.

“I’d like your son to be here to kick his ass.” Your eye twitched at the thought of your husband currently on an airplane. Sunset Curve had gone on a three-day interview marathon to the dislike of your friends and family.

Sunset Curve really needs to fire their manager with little respect for his charges’ lives. Especially the lead singer’s first child. Luke had no clue you had gone into labour.

“Your father had words with Jerry for his meddling.” Nancy told her daughter glancing up at the strained smile through another contraction, “I’m sure Jerry thought the controversy of Luke not making the birth would be perfect for publicity.”

“I swear I will strangle Jerry if Luke isn’t here. I will pulverize the son of a bitch.” You hissed relaxing against the white sheets in the private suite. The mothers had been constants in the room while Rose, the pianist from the wedding, had visited briefly.

Rose and the photographer Ray had hit it off so well they had entered a relationship that then blossomed a friendship with you. The couple had become dear friends in the last few months.

“Okay Y/N, we’re gonna check your progress.” The doctor spoke swiftly tugging the disposable medical gloves on his hands. Two nurses worked with him. Your eyes pinned to the ceiling during the short examination.

“We’ve hit ten centimetres.” The doctor announced pushing the wheeled stool away to study your expressions, “Do you have your partner here?”

The tears built up as it settled that Luke might miss the birth of his first child when he had been so excited about it. He had bought and read more pregnancy books than you he had been talking with his father on how he could support you. He took classes with his mom on how to change a diaper, check the temperature of the bottle and methods for colic and diaper rashes.

Overwhelmed the feeling of two pairs of hands comforted you with the reminder that while Luke wasn’t there, you still had support. The baby would be born with both his grandmothers in the room. It was as best as it could be.

In a fast pace, you then found yourself with your legs in the stirrups with a stranger, albeit a doctor, staring at your vagina. It was uncomfortable, but it faded when the pain really began.

“Okay I want you to push from 1-10.” The doctor soothed, “Good job.”

“You’re doing so well, darling,” Nancy told you, leading Emily to open her mouth. Unfortunately, she didn’t get the chance.

“I’m here!” Luke exclaimed rushing into the room, “Your dad was-“

Why was it unfortunate that Emily didn’t speak? Well, Luke unprepared caught sight of your exposed lower half. He promptly fainted with a thud to the floor.

“Are you serious?!” You yelled glaring at the puddle of your husband out cold with one of the nurses waving a package under his nose.

The smelling salt pack under Luke’s nose, bringing him back to consciousness, “Oh, boy. I fainted.”

“It happens more often than you would think.” The nurse told the young man while you focused on another push.

By the time the contraction ended, Luke had taken his mother’s place in holding your hand with encouraging words dripping off his tongue.

“This is the only child we’re having.” You hissed at the musician who continued to pale with a perfect view of the birthing in a reflection, “If you faint again I will…ARG”

A beautiful cry filled the room to the relief of baby Patterson’s parents bringing both of them to cry as well. Baby Patterson was scooped away to the corner of the room for a checkup and weight while the doctor inspected you. Time felt unreal as it passed quickly.

Baby Patterson was wiped clean as you delivered the placenta, got cleaned up with a sheet change and began to rest. Baby hairs plastered against your forehead you cooed at the swaddled form of your baby.

“So beautiful.” Luke whispered, unaware of his mother taking pictures with the lessons Ray had given her. The baby’s mouth opened with a gurgle that caused your heart to grow, “I’ll go let the boys know.”

Mesmerized by the baby, Luke made his way to the family waiting room on the maternity ward where it was packed. Opening the door, he counted Reggie, Bobby, Alex, Alex’s boyfriend Willie, your father Lance and Luke’s father. In the corner, Rose and Ray huddled together.

“Well?” Alex anxiously questioned picking at his cuticles, anxious for any news. His blue eyes begging his best friend for answers.

“Y/N is doing fine. The birth was smooth, and baby Patterson is healthy.” Luke proudly announced, placing his hands on the hem of his purple long sleeve shirt.

The room went silent before Mitch spoke, “So, do I have a granddaughter or a grandson?”

From the moment she was born, Stevie Eleanor Patterson had her father tied around her finger with her daddy’s matching hazel gaze. Lips like yours and a nose still unsure of but the nine-month-old was absolutely gorgeous with her short brown hair already curling. Of course, you could be biased as she was all yours.

Stevie wouldn’t settle without rock music of her father singing songs, but she did sleep through the night since day one. That didn’t mean she’d continue to sleep through the night, regression of sleep was tale your mother told about you as a baby.

“Hello sweet baby girl.” You whispered gently rocking the baby back to sleep mesmerized by the perfect combination of you and Luke, “So sleepy from feeding hmm?”

Stevie was heavy with the only complication being the minor tongue tie that was resolved increasing her feed. Stevie had such an appetite you had to compensate with formula to a degree, and you were sure the appetite was all Luke.

“Hey sweetheart.” Luke murmured from the door of Stevie’s bedroom wearing his Rush cutoff shirt and his staple black jeans.

The now twenty-year-old man had transitioned smoothly into fatherhood with the support of his best friends and family. Emily and Nancy had alternated staying in the guest room to help in the first month; the birth had been easy, but recovery had been at a near standstill.

“Hey!” You spoke as Stevie reacted to Luke’s voice, “I thought you said you would be late?”

Luke’s lips turned up at your words, “It looked that way, but Tom sent us home. God, I wish we had him from the first instead of Jerry.”

Both noses of the couple scrunched at the insensitive former manager that had both hit on you and insulted you when started showing with the pregnancy. The minute they could the band fired the man and found a saviour in Tom. Tom had left his previous employment with some magician with a name like Conner or something. The magician was narcissistic truthfully and had a slight obsession with the occult and death.

“Perfect. I need a shower.” You sighed shuffling Stevie into Luke’s warm embrace staring at the daddy-daughter duo.

“Have a bath. Relax babe. I got it.” Luke cooed, staring at his baby daughter’s bright gaze and dimpled smile.

Luke couldn’t believe how blessed he had been in falling in love with someone like you and receiving a gift. The gift being a father to the most beautiful angel in the world with the name Stevie.

“Love you!” You called over hastily make a flee for the master bathroom with the large tub before Stevie objected.

How lucky were you to have a husband like Luke?

Malibu, Patterson home, 2004

Luke, Reggie, Bobby and Alex, better known as Sunset Curve, had become legendary in the music world after their 1995 headliner debut at the Orpheum. In the nine years since the esteemed performance Sunset Curve had released two studio albums and toured four times. With the good times came the bad times as well.

Bobby Willis had decided he wanted to pursue a solo career creating a cavern between all four boys. He would change his name to Trevor Wilson at the suggestion of his label. He had little traction with his songs.

“Daddy!” Squealed, the three old little brunette girl ran through the modest-sized mansion to the man at the door, “I missed you!”

Luke, having memorized the routine, had already left his bag on the ground as his five-year-old daughter launched herself into his arms. Stevie had kept the hazel eyes with the chocolate coloured wavy hair. You could see yourself with her nose, chin, mouth and ears, but the rest is all Luke.

“Bug, you saw Daddy this morning.” You spoke, bringing Luke’s attention to the woman leaning against the wall. Luke’s heart fluttered, taking in the vision of his wife, who inspired so many songs.

Luke’s lips separated to reveal that perfect smile that stilled made your stomach flutter as it had since you were both fifteen. His hazel eyes glanced from your face to the one-year-old on your hip with his eyes closed. Little lips opened with quiet snores.

Hudson Jude was born in December of 2002 thankfully while Sunset Curve was on a break allowing Luke to be there. Hud was a near replica of you with the same eyes as his older sister and father. His infectious personality mimicking his uncle Reggie.

Mitch and Emily’s House May 2002

Last night had been incredible to Luke Patterson as Sunset Curve stood on the stadium stage as the sold-out crowd cheered as the song came to an end. ‘Now or Never’ had a special spot in the band’s hearts as they believed it had been the spark of interest from record execs back in ’95. Luke’s blue electric hung behind him as his best friends, his brothers, came to the edge with him. Grins splitting their faces the four boys grabbed hands and bowed to the audience.

“Thank you so much for coming out!” Luke’s voice reached every corner of the stadium drinking in the cheering and the signs in the crowd. And it felt like just yesterday they played the Orpheum before they hit it big.

The screams growing as Reggie’s winked in the direction of a group of girls, but Luke’s drifted to the VIP section. You stood with Stevie wearing the special headphones to protect her hearing. Her tiny hands clapping as her eyes wandered the large number of people.

The next morning, right now, he was in the living room with his parents, in-laws, his wife and daughter. So much had changed for the vocalist from fleeing this very house to returning to make amends. Now he watched his daughter playing with the toys Emily had found in the attic from Luke’s childhood.

“Hey I got you a gift.” You whispered to the man leaning against your legs on the floor. You sat seated on the couch while the other adults spoke.

“A gift? What for?” Luke questioned leaning to rest his head on your lap. His eyes found the little box you had hidden behind a pillow.

It was small and unassuming to the group in the living room. Luke’s fingers pulled the bow apart before the lid came off. Nestled in the velvet five guitars were. Taking one, Luke read the engraving.

“New Sunset Curve member: Coming December 2002.” Luke whispered blinking as he flipped it to see, “Daddy’s new music buddy.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, “The other ones are for the boys. The back has their names on it.”

“We’re having another baby?” Luke softly asked, turning to face you completely. His eyes wonder-filled at the news, “Oh my gosh!”

“I know. I’m about two months pregnant at this point.” You murmured back cupping his cheeks with the stubble he hadn’t shaved yet. Tears filling both his and your eyes, “With how busy the tour was I lost track of my periods.”

“Oh my gosh. Can I tell them?” Luke pleaded on his knees, bringing the attention of both your parents. Stevie was still so enthralled by her toys she didn’t catch any words..

“Go ahead.” You smiled at the excited man. Facing the other side of the room, Luke nestled into your side on the couch..

Hand pressing on your flat tummy he grinned, “Stevie’s gonna be a big sister.”

Luke was so excited when his second child was born, he was thrilled at having a son; he would have been just as excited for a girl. He had a son and a daughter he loved with everything in him. He collaborated with Lance on a song for his own children just as Lance had.

“Hi Hud,” Luke spoke, stepping close to kiss his son’s sleeping head nestled in your neck, “How’s my gorgeous wife today.”

“Tired. Hud is breaking a new tooth, but Stevie’s been better today. She missed her uncle Alex.” You spoke, looking at your little girl.

Stevie had become Alex’s shadow with the man even buying her a toy drumset for her fifth birthday. Alex and Willie had been away the past two weeks for a honeymoon; they legally couldn’t marry, but that didn’t stop them from having a dedication ceremony. The minute the law changed, you had no doubt Willie and Alex would find their way to a courthouse.

“We all miss Alex.” Luke sighed, “I hope he finds beach sand for the next year, there’s only so much I can take of Reggie. Bobby, Trevor came to the studio today. His sales have dropped, and his label dropped him.”

“He wants to come back?”

“To be fair he never really left the band. He went solo.” Luke admitted, “It’s hard to trust him after he took ‘Get Lost’ from us. At least he didn’t take ‘My Name is Luke’ from us.”

Your hand pushed up the hair hanging in his eyes below the orange beanie that had been a staple outfit piece for years now. Fronts pushed together, Luke kissed you for the first time today other than the quick peck as he left this morning. Hudson had a lousy sleep that left Luke staying up most the night with him.

“At the end of the day, it comes down to Reggie, Alex and you to make that decision. He’s never been a bad person, but maybe he felt like he wasn’t important. How many songs did he write?” You questioned your husband tentatively speaking to not spark his passionate anger.

You saw the annoyance in the crinkle of his nose and his eyebrows almost touching, but it didn’t take from the love in his eyes. With a sigh, he shifted Hudson to his embrace, tugging you to the spacious living room.

“If you look at it outside the band you have Stevie, Hudson and me. You have a family. Alex and Willie are connected at the hip. Reggie is with the band, volunteering at the kids centre, or with Ray.” It seemed it shifted something in Luke. His shoulders relaxed.

“The last few years have been pretty hectic.” Luke admitted watching as Stevie danced to the rock playing on the radio. Her little arms moving as if she was drumming.

Hudson shifted on Luke’s lap as you nestled into his side, watching the little loves you created with soft expressions. Stevie’s bright grin lighting up the room better than the natural light from the windows. The innocence she carried deep in her soul it felt like everything clicked into place.

“Daddy! Watch me!” Stevie giggled jumping as the song changed to Bittersweet by her grandfather Lance. The same song that played in the car accident back in ’96 that had a new meaning with having your own children.

It took a long time before Lance was able to pick up the guitar and perform; his lingering pain in his arm the cause. It took a few surgeries and physiotherapy along with relearning how to play before he performed Bittersweet. Lance performed for the first time live in your hospital room to his first grandchild.

“Whoo Stevie!” Reggie called from the front of the house. Behind him, Alex and Willie joined the same family.

“UNCLE ALEX!” Stevie shouted sprinting towards the tall blonde already crouching for the little girl.

The bond between Stevie and Alex was by far the cutest thing you had ever seen with how Stevie looked up at him. Alex would be the first to suggest tea parties and painting each other’s nails with newspaper for any spills. There wasn’t a better role model for Stevie to love. The bond was reminiscent of Uncle Jesse and Michelle from Full House.

“Ellie!” Alex shouted back swinging the little girl in his hug calling his unique nickname for her. He had taken to shortening her middle name; he really didn’t like when anyone else said it.

Peering over the pink sweater Stevie caught sight of Willie in the door, “Ready Uncle Alex?”

At Alex’s confusion, Stevie wandered over to the skater smiling at the sight of his partner with the little girl. Willie’s brow furrowed as the girl came over to him uncharacteristically.

“Hi.” Stevie spoke, playing with her little fingers, “How was your trip, Uncle Willie?”

A small gasp from both Willie and Alex at the new title given that Stevie was shy with the skater. Stevie had been very excited for her uncle to come back from the honeymoon so she could surprise them.

“What?”

“You married Uncle Alex. That means you’re my uncle now too. Can I call you that?” Stevie’s brows furrowed concentrating on the man with tears in his eyes. The room was silent at Willie collected himself.

“I’d love that Squirt.” Willie choked out when her little arms wrapped around his shoulders, “Learn any new tricks on the drums?”

“Not really! But I lost a tooth!” Stevie excitedly spoke dancing on the balls of her little feet in the kid-sized black vans.

“Oh! Ray wanted me to pass on that he and Rose are pregnant! Baby is a girl due next year.” Reggie gasped, remembering the announcement from lunch at the Molina house, “Ray’s pretty sure they’ll name her Julie.”

The little Patterson girl eagerly informed her uncles on everything that had happened since the dedication ceremony with Willie and Alex. Even the twenty-four hours since she saw Uncle Reggie before breaking out into the dance moves from her dance classes. Hudson now toddling after his older sister with a smile on his little face.

A twist of expressions appeased on the members of Sunset Curve at the same time spoke together. All thinking of a distant vision of a Puerto Rican girl with a blurry face and gorgeous voice.

“Julie Molina? I feel like I know that name?”

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#luke patterson imagines #julie and the phantoms imagines #jatp luke #luke patterson x reader #alive!luke patterson #charlie gillespie #caitsy and ash productions

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unholyplumpprincess · 3 years

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The Lovers Card

Finally, after so long, this commission is complete! This commission is for @shoccydoccy featuring their oc Mitch and the Doctor. Husband versions of Bonnie and Clyde. I had a great time writing out their dynamic!!!

(Older content)

Reblogs > Likes !!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!!!

Fandom: Dead by daylight

Relationship: The Doctor/OC (Mitch)

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, canon typical violence and mentions of blood, the Doctor’s shockies being used in non painful ways, horror husbands???, roleplay of chase, face fucking, possessive behavior

Words: 5.3k

____________________

The Entity’s realm was not for lovers.

Positive emotions here were built upon hope and a dream, a dream that would be crushed under the spider-like limbs with a haunting, twelve people sounding laugh. The Entity did not allow its play things any positivity lest it wished to destroy it. At least, that’s what most survivors would tell you. The ones who had hoped that even in a realm such as this, that their obsessive killers would no longer be a threat over their head.

For Mitch, he had listened to those survivors tell their stories at the campfire when he had entered. They all sounded frightened, stressed, tired. Being one of the former lead doctors at a psychiatric institution, he made quick assumptions of their relations with each one.

~Rest under the cut~

Laurie swore no relation to the monster who had chased her since she was merely a girl. Yet, there was something hesitant in the way she spoke, a wobble to her lips as if somewhere in the back of her mind she KNEW who this man was that followed her. Mitch assumed that he must have been family, or a family friend, but perhaps one she was not close with nor knew. Yet, the blood still ran deep. He quickly could guess PTSD, anxiety disorder, and clinical depression. Yet, how curious was her loud, fighting spirit? Her need to survive and see him destroyed outweighing her need to lie belly up and die.

Quentin looked stressed at even any word beginning with the letter F. As if you would say a certain word or a name, and a boogeyman would come jumping out. He confided that he didn’t sleep, wringing his hands and eyes looking everywhere but Mitch as he talked about the dream killer. As if in a realm such as this, that was something funny to believe in. A child’s story.

Mitch had hummed to show he was listening as he idly wrote in his journal. PTSD, high case of paranoia, insomniac, and clinical depression. Yet, what kept him going when it looked like he just wanted to drop and let himself get the end of a sharp weapon to his throat?

For Mitch, he too had his own obsession. But, unlike in the way these two seemed to be. They were stressed to even think of the ones who obsessed over them, and yet, Mitch could only obsess over this...’Doctor’ they kept discussing. A killer in these very realms said to be one of the most ruthless.

Feng had come to this realm, born in electricity and the high levels of static echoing throughout white walls and a haunting laugh. She tells Mitch this with a shrug, as if running her own killer had been a piece of cake. However, something catches Mitch off guard. Something that shouldn’t have been something too big a deal- but it’s the way she described her surroundings.

White walls. A hospital with an eerie feeling. Different levels now overgrown with plant life and the ceilings busted open. Flickering lights. A big open room with various televisions. The gates being huge and eerie and with two ways out. A library on one side, an office on the other with old books and a record player-

It’s all too perfect. So, Mitch had nonchalantly asked if she’d caught a plaque with a name on it. Something to tell what the hospital was possibly called?

When the words: ‘Lery’s memorial’ pass her lips, Mitch lets the first positive emotion flood his body. Of feelings that would disgust the Entity.

Of hope.

Of nostalgia.

Of...love.

Mitch had yet to come into any contact with both that place as well as the killer known among the survivors as ‘The Doctor’. Everything had been far too perfect thus far; Everything fell into place just right. And if...and if it was Herman? Where had he gone? Who had taken him? Was it the same being that had come to Mitch in his dreams and scooped him away into the deadly fog?

They both were not even the slightest innocents. In life, Mitch had matched wits, banter, and intellect with the doctor, which caused Herman to gain interest in the younger.

Herman Carter was a man who had a fascination with both science and psychiatrics- mostly dealing with the n eurological system and the questions such as: Why do we all think? Why is the brain so active in certain lobes? He was known among colleagues to be cold and clinical, or almost mad in a way. He was very persuasive and was known as the smartest man in the room, but didn’t have a lot of friends.

Mitch had come to the institute as a new and upcoming doctor. Unlike Herman who had all his life been fascinated by the brain, with all the neuroscience that came with it, as well as knowing all his life that he would succeed. Mitch had led a different life. Struggling to get into college due to the costs and taking back alley jobs.

Herman had intimidated Mitch at first. He couldn’t lie about that. He stood just as tall as he did, rich dark brown skin, signs of aging on his face but with grace. His voice was smooth and deep, always sounding refined and clinical when he spoke. His smile was one that stretched all the way to his deep black eyes, framed with crow’s feet that hinted that he grinned and laughed quite often.

His stature and physique were intimidating, imposing, yet as time went on Mitch learned that he kind of...liked that. Besides, he wasn’t bad once you got to know him- a little off the hinges, sure, but nothing that was too much for Mitch. In fact, you could say they were a perfect match.

Mitch, in turn, must have looked like a plain Jane up next to him. At least in Mitch’s eyes.

Similar in height with black curls coming down to his shoulder always pulled up and out of the way in a ponytail and standing out against his peachy skin tone. His own voice was thickened with a Russian accent, his own verbal ticks leading to him tumbling over a few English words.

Large lensed glasses cover his hazel eyes, his lashes thick and eye shape kind and softly shaped. His usual outfit even stood out in comparison to Herman’s nice suits. Mitch normally wore something akin to a collared mustard yellow shirt with a little brown tie. An earth toned sweater vest thrown over and some nice dress slacks and shoes with his doctor’s coat. Something he currently wore in the trials as well.

The hospital they had worked had been no place for romance. Neither had Herman been looking for anything of the sort. And yet, something blossomed between the two.

Mitch was a rather forward person once Herman got to know him. Once was a man who spoke in small talk and niceties, now became more assertive in his wants. To the point on one long night, he’d taken a drink from his cup of coffee, leaning on the counter and told Herman truthfully that he wanted to see him outside the clinic one of these times. Herman had been a bit taken back, he’d admit, normally people beat around the bush or thought him as rather ‘off the rails’.

But all he could see from Mitch was honesty past his thick lashes as he took another drink of his coffee with a soft hum in his throat as he waited for the reply from Herman. Seeming unaffected if he would accept or deny him. And well, Herman could admit, both his intellect and appearance were very attractive. Not to mention his confidence in challenging someone such as himself.

In the end, Herman had accepted. No guilt in his body, as if somehow, he knew that in the future that if Mitch caught onto the more...elaborate experiments he was conducting. That well...

Well...Mitch wouldn’t be too innocent himself in that event. Always such an eager dog to follow.

By the time Herman is taken into custody and offered a job under the name AWAKENING, he knows no one better than he’d want at his side for the job than his former partner and his now current husband. Convincing the higher ups isn’t a problem, not when he’s their best interrogator on the scene. And being able to watch Mitch methodically take people apart on the job? Now that was just a bonus. A delicious, delicious bonus.

Mitch had found himself following deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole. Anywhere Herman went, he followed. If Herman said they were going underground to an institute called ‘ Lery’s Memorial’ for more experimentation to be conducted, that’s where he followed. If Herman said that Mitch was to help him figure out the fundamentals of electroshock therapy on an exposed brain to figure out mind control methods? Then, well. Mitch followed.

Yet, even in the darkest of moments, they could find a home in the other. Another worldly couple of Bonnie and Clyde. At their jobs, they were the best of the worst. And at home, Herman would hold Mitch in his arms as they swayed in the kitchen and murmured sweet nothings to one another. Forehead to forehead, fingers laced, an everyday looking couple. Gold ring bands to match and all.

No. The Entity’s realm? It was truly not made for lovers. It tried its hardest to keep the positive out. Even if that said couple was a quietly infamous couple.

And yet, this begged the question. What if a survivor, was just as willing and able to give the pain as a killer was?

What if Mitch’s theories were right and his beloved was seen as more of a nightmare than himself? If this is where Herman had disappeared to so long ago?

Time would only tell.

Mitch learns the realms rather quickly. Taking to sketching them in his notebook in his book with the killer that was found there. He finds repetitions of these killers exist in different realms, so it didn’t seem that they would stay in their own designated ‘area’, but merely whatever the Entity picked.

In the same way, the survivors are picked seemingly at random. Though, Mitch finds that if it is someone such as the Shape, that Laurie will always be involved. Similarly, if it is the Nightmare, Quentin will be involved. It...

It almost makes him give up his theory. Figuring it was perhaps just his hope keeping that feeling alive. Wouldn’t it have made sense for the Entity to pair them up? Wouldn’t it be something to agonize over? Wasn’t that a goal of the Entity’s, to cause as much pain as possible?

It’s something he mulls over while he plays with his wedding band one day, looking at the glittering gold with a soft sigh passing his lips. Of longing or frustration, not even he’s entirely sure.

As far as he knew in the mortal realm, Herman had been taken from the institute by police where they discovered Mr. Stamper. Where his head was cracked open and electrodes and prods were inserted into a still, very much working brain. His research papers had been left, but he’d been...just gone.

And then, just like this, Mitch was here. With a realm matching the description to a T. A realm he’d yet to be in, and a killer he’d yet to see.

But then. One day. It happens.

When Mitch awakens, he finds himself no longer in the warmed bed in the cabin of their camp. He finds himself blinking himself awake to the entrance of a building with two wide , swung open doors. Overgrowth enters the building with tufts of grass, leading into blindingly white walls, white floors, hospital beds, flickering televisions hung on the walls...

‘Lery’s memorial’ reads the plaque outside said doors. Mitch finds that small bit of hope flickering into his system at the sight. Of course, he had learned from the other survivors, that these realms were also based on areas they’d had immense trauma in. Such as Laurie with her old neighborhood, or Quentin with the preschool grounds. So maybe...maybe this is just where the Entity took his own memories and made them into something painful to look at.

Grounding himself, Mitch finds himself going around familiar corridors and finding the place to be near exactly as remembered. Just vacated of patients, experiments, and of course it being now run down. But he tries to ignore the nostalgia as he finds a generator and begins getting to work on it with a few small tugs of the wires.

It’s when the sound of a fellow survivor getting shocked with a haunting, chilling yet familiar laugh does Mitch shoot up. Forgetting his position at the generator as it cracks with its own shock from being suddenly jolted. It would alert his position. And maybe that’s what he wants.

The familiar sound of thrumming in his ears and the feeling of his hair standing on end makes Mitch move around the corner to GREET the killer, near frantic with the need to know. It was all on a hunch, a theory. But if he was right, if he could see Herman again, if he would even recognize his own husband after so long locked up here to play a game by a creature yet unseen-

He near bumps right into the killer. Standing just about as tall as Mitch does. His unblinking gaze and a grin stretched across his face being of a familiar retainer to keep a patient’s facial parts open for no natural reflexes to get in the way. He recognizes it instantly; It had been one of Herman’s favorites to keep his patients from becoming too rowdy.

This killer’s skin is paler than the rich, dark tone he’d been familiar with. Now almost ashy and dead. Electricity shoots up bare arms, the doctor’s coat’s arms ripped off- or singed off from the very electricity running through his veins. Blood splatters his coat, dried over his cheeks, eyes wide open and seemingly full of electricity themselves in how they glow. Mitch’s eyes fall to his left hand, almost frantic with the need to know.

A gold band rests on the killer’s left ring finger and he feels his heart pick up in speed, but not from fear.

His heart does something odd, lurching in his chest as his fingers shake. The Doctor seems at a pause too, fingers clutched tight around the electric spear in his hand. He cocks his head to look at Mitch better, eyes flickering over his frame looking like mini fireflies with how bright they are, and even with the headgear Mitch can see his eyebrows try to furrow.

“Herman-” Mitch breathes out, outstretching a hand and reaching for his face. Immediately his wrist is snatched by the Doctor’s free hand, but not hard enough to hurt, just stopping him from touching. The electricity doesn’t even hurt, feeling like a pleasant tingle as static clings to his skin.

The hand snatched is taken closer to the Doctor’s face for closer inspection. Hypnotically bright eyes land on the gold band and Mitch watches as his head cocks, glancing back to Mitch’s face, then back to the band.

A small shock is sent through Mitch’s frame and a gasp is sent through him as he watches his vision turn almost blindingly blue briefly. Almost...almost hallucinations swarming his visions of memories. Of arms wrapped around him from behind in the lounge room, of Herman slicing up vegetables in the kitchen, mundane tasks all leading to the last one of Herman. Black and orange fog surrounding him in a room with a severed head.

When Mitch blinks, he’s face to face with the Doctor who has now bowed his head and let his wrist go, near nose to nose with Mitch who finally lets one side of his lips curl up in a lopsided smile. “Herman.” He murmurs again, surer of himself as his hands come up to cup Herman’s cheeks. Feeling the heat of electricity radiating off his body, the dried blood under his fingertips, and how dry his skin was.

A man of few words, Mitch doesn’t feel the need to ask if this is where Herman had gone, if this is where he’d been taken, he doesn’t feel the need to cry either. It was as if he knew one day they’d be together again. Even if Herman was wielding a scary looking weapon and was clearly no longer human.

“My dear,” Echoes into Mitch’s mind suddenly like a click, a voice he’s familiar with, cooing the pet name so fondly as a hand comes to rest on Mitch’s waist. “You’ve still insisted on wearing the sweater vest?”

It’s such a playful thing to say that it makes Mitch choke out a laugh, affectionately nudging his forehead on Herman’s chin in a gentle bonk. “And you tear off arms of lab coat like animal?” His reply is thick with his accent, his voice hoarse from lack of use since he’d come to this realm. The response he gets in turn from Herman is that haunting laugh, shrill and high like multiple voices.

Herman tries to grab at his waist again to toy with the vest, but Mitch takes a step back, out of arms reach and watches as Herman watches him hungrily. A familiar and old look that meant he knew what Mitch was up to.

Mitch, in life, had been a huge tease. Liking to rile Herman up, tease him until Herman would shove him up against a wall and snarl about having his way with him. Similarly, Mitch could be very forward, insisting on taking what he wanted. With much consent on both ends, of course.

But a little roleplay after so much time apart certainly wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“You want off?” Mitch hums, letting a grin blossom onto his face as playfulness sparkles in his eyes. “Take.”

Herman’s eyes spark to life at that, the laugh that seemed to echo through both mind and reality itself leaving him as he takes his rod and smacks it twice against the palm of his other hand.

“As you wish, little thing.”

The chase begins after Mitch darts around the corner and begins running in a seemingly aimless direction. He’s run killers before, sure, but those were guesses of where to go. In a place he was familiar, with his husband of all people on his tail, it felt like there was no escape. He can feel the heat creeping on his back each time, can hear the laughter that follows it. When a shock is surged through him, he doesn’t scream like the others might, instead he only stutters his steps to gasp as red hot pleasure shoots up his body.

Well, that was an accidental side effect. Or perhaps an ability? He was unsure of what his ‘abilities’ were when he arrived, the other survivors said they found out in due time.

What a treat to conflict with the person of his affections.

Mitch finds himself running towards the other end of the institute, dodging around any running generators he hears despite knowing that the others will merely think he’s going to get caught. He taunts and teases the entire time, curling around walls and darting back around Herman just to hear him growl in frustration and chase him again.

By the time Mitch turns another corner, he finds himself in an office. The window is busted out, tinted glass on the ground. The desk has papers strewn all across it, filing cabinets left open and a chair spun out of the way. A couch with a fake plant rests in one corner, worn down from use and made of leather.

Nostalgia hits him quicker than he can think to turn around because it was a dead end. And it seems he’s been caught.

A hand grabs his wrist, curling fingers into the bone there and slamming Mitch back against the wall. A strong body fits against his own like a missing puzzle piece, knocking his glasses askew as a gasp escapes his lips. A powerful thigh nudges his legs apart, forced between them as well as his caught wrist thrust above his head and effectively pinning him.

“You have always liked riling me up.” The voice echoes through his head tauntingly, the grind of a thigh between Mitch’s legs making his breath hitch and eyes flutter. “Do you wish to do this while my goal is to ensure you do not leave?”

Quite the point, Mitch thinks to himself, but he knew Herman would never hold that rod against him until he had his fill. A little blood never hurt anyone, and Mitch doesn’t mind the idea of failing his own little survival mission if it meant his husband would not get punished.

Perhaps Mitch was a glutton for punishment as is. But if it was a punishment his husband could give him? Oh, he’d like nothing more.

So, he hums his approval with a little nod of his head, a smile crossing his face before fading to parted lips and a gasp when the thigh grinds up once again. Rocking him and making his own hips squirm. His free hand comes up to make a half assed push against Herman just to rile him up further, succeeding when he drops his weapon to snatch Mitch’s other wrist and slamming him against the wall.

Mitch’s lashes flutter, eyes falling to Herman’s mouth that’s split into a grin from the headgear. The need to kiss him is strong, the need to completely overtake his mouth and remember his taste- strong of coffee- lingering on the tip of his tongue. He has a feeling the headgear is screwed into place, so he offers a soft whine and a murmur of, “I wish I could kiss you.”

It’s the softest thing he’d say or do tonight. Herman matching with a soft, gentle press of their foreheads together. Something that perhaps would ruin the mood for any other couple who hadn’t had similar scenarios like this play out. It’s soft affection, probably the gentlest Herman has had in so long.

The thought makes Mitch’s heart constrict. Surely Herman was in his sadistic element, that much he could understand. But where was his pause? His reprieve?

Mitch’s breath fans across his face and at first, they just soak in the company together. Gentle, quiet, a pause in the storm they would soon create.

But the click of a generator starting makes both of them revive.

Mitch is first to move, pulling his head back and reeling it forward to knock Herman back in a short distanced headbutt. It only serves to make the Doctor grunt, leaning back and tightening his grip as he comes right back forward to get into Mitch’s personal space. Mitch’s victorious grin is soon wiped from his face as he’s thrown to the floor. Forced to his knees with a hand sliding into his hair and threatening with gentle static that he’d get his brain fried if he put up a fight.

Not that he would, of course. They both know that. Because if anyone were looking, you couldn’t see. But Mitch sees the way Herman tilts his head, a quiet question that Mitch nods to. Yes, he wanted this, yes, he liked it.

Mitch grins once more as he’s on his knees, scooting closer and nosing at the bulge below Herman’s belt buckle. The hand in his long hair, fisting his ponytail presses him forward so he can rub his cheek shamelessly against the tent with a longing sigh.

“Sorry,” Mitch murmurs adoringly, reaching up to help undo the Herman’s belt with practiced ease. Sliding his fingers down to his button and fly, undoing it with a bit of clumsiness with the shakiness of his hands. He bites his lip to stop a grin from happening when Herman grunts in confusion. “For escaping you.”

It’s a taunt. The way he says it as he flutters his lashes up at Herman to hint that he could have totally evaded him and won this round. He lets a grin creep onto his face as he hooks his underwear and pants down to mid-thigh, seeing how Herman is already half hard.

He always had such a pretty cock. Seven, verging on eight inches with a curved lean upwards. The head is bulbous, foreskin covering the sensitive lower glans and making the head shiny and flushed dark pink from arousal. In life he would have been shaved, and it seems it stayed the same in the realm as well with the smooth flesh revealed.

“I have almost had enough of your petulant teasing. Are you going to show you are sorry?” Herman’s voice rings in his head pleasantly, a low growl with his voice deepened in arousal. Fingers twist in Mitch’s ponytail, thrusting him forward until his mouth brushes against Herman’s cock.

Immediately to work, he presses hot kisses on the underside. Letting his tongue loll out to lick a warm, flat stripe from the underside to the head where he presses sloppy kisses. He moans when he licks up the precum, making sure Herman’s watching as he peers up at him from on his knees as he takes his cock into his mouth. At first, he just suckles on the head, letting the familiar weight settle and hearing pleased grunts above him and soft growls. It almost sounds like an animal.

It’s when Herman has had enough does Mitch start to scramble at his thighs. His ponytail is held taut as Herman fucks his mouth, making good usage of Mitch’s throat as he controls his gag reflex. His lashes flutter, eyes welling up with tears as his fingers clasp onto Herman’s pants at his thighs, eyes near rolling back into his skull as his throat is fucked.

Each lengthened thrust, where Herman holds himself just a bit longer, makes him whimper. Feeling himself strain in his own pants as filthy words bleed into his head. “Look at you, little one. Keep up your practice? ” “Good boy, you look at home down there.” “I can see how much you like it.”

At the last one, Herman adjusts to press the sole of his dress shoe on the front of Mitch’s pants just to hear him sob out through his nose and jerk his hips into his touch. So sensitive.

Finally, Herman pulls from his throat, yanking Mitch’s head back and letting him pant for air. He looks so pretty with his throat exposed, lips flushed and parted, lips shiny from saliva and some drool spilling down his chin. A filthy mess. A mess that Herman can’t help but grab the chin of, pressing his thumb to his lips just to watch Mitch greedily suckle at his thumbpad.

“Insatiable as always, my love.”

Another generator goes off and Herman is guiding Mitch to stand. Mitch tugs at Herman to come closer, bringing them to his desk so Mitch can lie on his stomach on top and let Herman tug at his pants. Lubricant possibly was something they would have needed in the institute for either any gear or keeping an area slick for suction cups, a bottle of which is found in Herman’s coat.

Prep is easy enough with how needy Mitch is. His cock is pressed to the desk flat, kind of hanging between his legs and twitching helplessly against the wood as Herman’s fingers work him open. The entire time Mitch squirms and sighs, his cock jerking and spilling some precum in a heavy, sticky drop that leaves a brief string leading from his cock to the floor that snaps under gravity.

By the time Mitch is stretched enough, and even then maybe not even enough, just when he starts to get antsy. Herman slicks himself up and pushes inside with a grunt from his chest, Mitch matching with a low moan into his arms that he has crossed under his head. A swear in his native tongue croons out when Herman’s hips are flush with his ass, another sigh leaving him when Herman’s grabbing his ass firmly and spreading him apart just to see where they’re connected.

Herman is quick to start a decent pace, making Mitch make soft sounds, digging his nails into the desk as soft sighs leave him. A hand slides up his waist to press to the curve of it, as if caressing him. And it would be sweet, but it’s not what he wants.

“You can do better than that, yes?” Mitch taunts, rolling his hips into the next thrust and hiding a grin in his arm when he hears a growl. A smack to his ass draws a soft moan from him, but he hides it with a laugh. “C’mon, be good boy, harder.”

The ‘good boy’ makes Herman huff behind him, this little embarrassed sound Mitch was so in tune with. Herman sure knew how to talk pretty and gave off an aura of dominance, but they both knew who led the relationship.

Immediately Herman obeys, picking up pace, fucking him harder as electricity curls up Mitch’s body where Herman’s hands touch. Mitch whines in return, his hips pressing back eagerly, practically humping the edge of the desk for some sort of stimulation to his neglected cock.

Each slam into his ass makes Mitch’s soft taunting turn into moans. Another generator clicks on and Herman gets practically frantic to fuck into him. Animalistic with his grunts and growls, occasionally laughter seeming to escape him as if he can’t help it. When Mitch opens his mouth to coo at him, he yelps when his ponytail is caught again.

Herman yanks him to stand practically upright. Forcing Mitch’s back to his chest as he fucks into him. Herman’s hand leaves his hair to wrap loosely around his neck, static threatening his fingertips as his other hand shoves down to jerk Mitch off. In Mitch’s head is an echo of things, all seeming to intertwine with each other like too many voices trying to talk to him at once. Conflicting possessive with praise.

“You’re mine.” “I adore you.” “You’re mine to ruin, little thing.” “I’ve missed you.” “You’re going to cum on my cock like the pathetic thing you are.” “Let me see you lose it, my dear.”

The stimulation and echoes are too much. Mitch feels the final push he needs and he’s cumming with a cry, one of his hands grabbing Herman’s wrist that rests near his throat. His other hand coming back to grip Herman’s hip and forcing him to stay close as Herman cums inside of him with a snarl. Cumming with Herman’s hand jerking off the base of Mitch’s shaft, Mitch’s dick jerks almost freely, cumming onto the desk, partially onto his own shirt and the papers left askew on the floor.

Mitch pants heavily against Herman’s body, feeling the strain on his neck relaxing and the almost violent whispering shushing in his mind.

There’s a careful sort of way Herman pulls out. But then something is being shoved into Mitch again and at first he whines in a muffled protest before relaxing when coos in his mind tell him to.

A plug is pressed into him to keep the cum inside. Herman helps him with his pants, patting his ass fondly as if mocking him in turn before another click of a generator happens. The gong of the bell alerting that gates could be opened perks Mitch’s ears, but not as much as the laughter behind him and the creeping feeling of electricity .

“Run, little rabbit. Before I decide to see what your insides look like.”

No, the Entity’s realm was not made for lovers.

But, perhaps maybe lovers with a twisted sense of humor.

#The Doctor #The doctor x oc #Mitch (Oc)#dead by daylight #dbd #dick by daylight #lemon #nsft #commissions #princess writing #Herman Carter

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glitterbootsharry · 4 years

Text

chapter four.

taglist

Harry jerked awake at the sound of Pink Floyd booming through his apartment. His arm was half-asleep due to Amelia laying on it after last night’s activities. Her curly brown hair stretches across his sheets and pillow as she soundly purrs in her sleep. He hadn’t meant for her to sleep over, but after letting his frustrations fly, Amelia was in no shape to leave.

Harry groaned as he slipped out from under Amelia. He rolled his bare shoulders and popped his neck, hoping the stiffness left him. He pulled his black briefs on and threw on his white float shirt he wore the day before. Opening the door, the drums of the band hit him with an abruptness as of the closed door was holding the water back from a sinking ship. He wipes sleep away from his red eyes before closing his bedroom door behind him.

“Daphne?” Harry’s voice cracks, hoarse under the spell of sleep when he walks into an empty room with only him filling it. The tea kettle whistles startling him when Daphne opens his bedroom door. “It’s quite loud.”

“What?” Daphne yells, cupping her ear as she points to the ceiling speakers, “can’t hear you.”

“TURN THE FUCKING SONG OFF DAPHNE. IT’S TOO LOUD,” Harry screams as Daphne lowers the volume causing Harry to become self-aware of how loud he was. “Sorry.”

“Should be. After hearing you all night, I figured I’d return the favor,” Daphne pours the hot water into her tea cup before she struts back to her room to get ready for the day.

“Wait, you were listening?” Harry’s face furrows as his face becomes hot. How dare she listen to him?

“Couldn’t help it. Wanted to see if you were a good shag as you said you are,” Daphne calls back, laughing. “Smashed it ‘arry!”

“Harry?” Amelia pulls the sheet around her body tighter as she stands in the doorway. “Is everything alright?”

“Fantastic,” Harry smiles when turning to his date. “it’s bloody fantastic.” His head was spinning with a million thoughts on why Daphne would do such a thing and how he could repay her with such niceties.

☕︎︎

Saturday night called for hangouts, rather Eliza came over and Harry’s friends did too. Daphne had seen the chemistry between her friend and Harry’s shaggy haired friend named Mitch. It only took a couple of drinks before they would sneak behind closed doors.

“Where’s Mitch?” Harry asks, sipping on a mixed drink. “I swore he was just here.”

“Dunno,” Daphne’s brown eyes sparkle with mischief as she rocks on her heels. “Cat’s got me tongue.”

“That’s a first.”

Harry dodges another decorative pillow, laughing. “Liza and him... we’re making bedroom eyes, and I being the good friend that I am sent them on their merry way in hopes of them building a lasting relationship for years to come.”

“Mhm, and you did this from the kindness of your heart?”

“Of course. I’m not an animal,” Daphne laughs, leaning into Harry’s shoulder. Her head was spinning and her body felt like lead. She swore she saw Harry lick his lips when she leaned in, but that must have been her imagination. “Where’s what her face? Didn’t scare her off, did I?”

Daphne thinks back to her first interaction with Amelia.

“He’s got massive back acne. Terrible. Tell him every day to go get checked out and he won’t. And he’s got this smell to him that lingers and he says he’s got it under control, but you can’t cover up the rotten egg smell if I do say so myself. Anyways where did you say you worked at?” Daphne smiled sweetly as she leaned over the island counter trying to keep the awkward silence to a minimum as Harry finished getting ready.

“I-I didn’t? Um, I work at a law firm in Sussex. Known Harry for a few months now, and he...” Daphne was nodding as Amelia explained her relationship with Harry. They met just last year at a Christmas party and had been talking ever since. “When he said he had gotten a mate to go halves on, I didn’t expect a...”

“Girl? Woman? Female?”

“Yes...” Amelia blushes.

“Which is why you threw your heel at me when I barged in asking if you all wanted tea. I get it,” Daphne rubbed the sore spot that the stiletto had hit her. “Don’t be jealous. I’m not into Harry.”

“He said you just broke up with your boyfriend of two years. I know a guy...”

“No thanks, I think I’ll stick to warding off Harry’s massive ego for right now.”

“Yeah...” Amelia was short with her. Daphne half believed the lie she told the girl standing in front of her. Of course, she was into Harry, but she was into him like that. That would preposterous.

“Also Harry was a thing for middle aged men porn.”

☕︎︎

“You most definitely ran her off,” Harry laughed as he raked his fingers through his hair. He was quite confused when Amelia asked about his back acne and porn obsession when walking her down to her car. “She ran so far that I’m seeing her again tomorrow.”

“Oh,” was all Daphne could say. “After they leave, want to watch a movie?”

Harry thinks it over for a moment before asking, “Are we in a rom com mood or horror?”

“No rom com’s. I don’t want to cry.”

“Horror it is. Are you going to sleep in my room, again?” Harry cocks a brow as he side eyes his roommate. His smirk is growing as Daphne rolls her eyes.

“If I so like. I hate sleeping alone after watching scary movies. Gives me the heebie geebies,” Daphne’s eyes grow wide as she takes a sip of her drink. “‘S a problem?”

Harry runs the nape of his neck. Of Daphne sleeps in his room that would mean he would have two girls in his bed in less than twenty four hours. Thank God Amelia left. “Not at all. As long as you don’t hog the covers like last time.”

Mitch and Eliza finally emerged from their private party and left together. Soon after, the numbers dwindled down to just the flatmates as they curled up against one another watching The Exorcist in the dark. Daphne was wrapped up in her queen size blanket as she curled her arms around Harry’s, her head leaning on his shoulder. It wasn’t until the end credits rolled that either of them moved.

Daphne straightened herself up and watched as Harry yawned, stretching, and got up to go to his bedroom. He had changed into his boxers when he sighed and called for Daphne. “Come on, you big baby.”

Daphne quickly walked into Harry’s room and lunged for the bed. Her heart was racing from the slightest crack in the floorboards. “I forgot my blanket.”

Harry sighs, throwing the covers off him, and leaves to grab the blue fuzzy blanket. He walks into the kitchen, draping the enormous blanket over his shoulders, to make Daphne a cup of tea. He waits for the kettle to whistle all the while hearing for Daphne to call out to him.

“Harry? Is that you?” Daphne’s voice sounds worried, as if the characters in the movie were real and coming to get them.

“Bringing you some tea, darling,” He puts two lumps of sugar with a splash of milk in the dark liquid, like she likes before headed to the bedroom.

“You look like an idiot,” Daphne sits up, thanking God above that Harry left the nightstand lamp on. The shadows of night would loom over her and prey on her soul.

“I quite like this blanket. It fits me,” Harry hands Daphne the white cup. “Don’t know if I want to give it back.”

“It’s made for a queen, which you are not,” Daphne sips the drink, the hot liquid running down her throat soothes her anxiety and she relieves herself of being tense.

“Then I exceed the capacity.”

“Not bloody likely,” Daphne smiles as Harry spreads the blanket across Daphne’s body. He climbs into bed, shifting his weight as he gets comfortable before slipping his body under the clean sheets.

“You know,” Harry says trying to get Daphne’s mind from running with the make believe movie. “I never asked where you’re from.”

“Manchester.” Daphne eyes the coat on the doorknob. Is that really a coat or...something else?

“What was it like?” Harry takes Daphne’s dee hand and holds it in his, his thumb running circles on her skin.

“Mum and dad always worked so it was just me and my sister, Josie, for a while. She was great. You would have loved her.” Daphne prolongs her sip, even though the hot tea is burning her mouth. The one conversation beside talking about the movie that she wants to avoid is talking about her sister.

“Is she as chatty as you?” Harry smiles. Daphne’s hair falls in her face when she sighs looking down into her lap. Tears were brimming over her eyes- sniffling, she tries everything to not weep in front of Harry, but the memories are fresh, too raw, to not feel something.

“She was...until she died,” Tears stain her face as she silently sobs. Harry shifts closer to her. He forces Daphne to set down the mug, not caring anything about a bloody saucer on the wood. They both slid down into the bed and Harry holds Daphne until she drifts off into sleep, still clutching Harry’s hand.

####

taglist: @starboyhaz

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry 1d #harry styles 1d #1dff #harry styles ofc #to be so lonely

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slothgiirl · 5 years

Text

Y/N and Harry are best friends

“Hey you,” you call out, arms outstretched towards your best friend, Harry, “long time no see!” It was ironic, you'd graduated uni and moved to london just as Harry went on his world tour.

He smiles widely, enveloping you in his arms, smelling of musk and dark florals and something warm that you couldn't name but always associated it with Harry. “Miss me much babe,” his eyes sparkling as he teased you easily, all these months meant nothing now that you were together again.

“You have no clue,” You answered honestly, “I had no one to bother late at night or eat my terrible bread creations.”

“It's a recipe,” he says with a shake of his head, swinging you both slightly, “I don't know how you can mess it up!”

“Whatever mr I can't park,” you snap back.

“At least I can drive.”

You both burst out laughing and he lets you go briefly before taking your arm in his, and leading you into the restaurant, both of you pretending not to notice the far off paps in the corner of the street. It came with the territory and the mad obsession the media has with your friend.

It was monday afternoon and you'd been looking to this for days when he told you he was flying back from japan, which sounded like a dream. You'd never been further than Scotland.

“Cebu is always so freaking good,” you tell him, taking a sip from your vodka cranberry, “but tell me more about japan! It looks so cool! I'd love to visit the Aniu or sleep in one of those cube hotels.”

Harry laughs, drinking from his own beer, “It was cool. I mean I sent you all those pics didn't I! It was good to get some downtime after the past year.”

“At least you make friends easily,” you say, scrunching your nose, “my first term at uni was so lonely, I don't know what I'd have done if I'd never met Julia.”

“You just have to talk to people I mean you wouldn't love you! I spilled coffee on you and you didn't completely hate me. That's best friend material.”

“Think that says more about you than it says about me,” you laugh. “Still Japan is much cooler that spending the workweek in a lab.” It had been cool at first, but the novelty of being out of school and getting paid and not having exams had worn off by now.

“You get to do crazy wacky science,” he teases, “how long until you’re an x man!”

“I'd rather be spider-man,” you tell him without missing a beat, “when the rami movies came out I spent a good few months looking for spiders in the garden to bite me.” It had been so dumb in retrospect but you'd always hoped one day you'd wake up with superpowers.

Harry roars with laughter, “how'd you get into Oxford again?”

“Don't be an ass,” you reply, “we can't all being amazingly talented singers.”

“You forgot the wildly attractive part,” he says with a smirk, leaning close to you.

Unable to help yourself, you snort, “there goes your giant head again!”

“Hey,” he protests, looking the very picture of offended. If you didn't know him any better, you'd think you'd gone too far. But there's a hint of smile pulling at the corner of his lips and you just laugh.

“My most sincerest apologies,” you respond a girl to match his on your own face. Harry has a way of just making you so freaking happy no matter what else is going on. There's never been a time in your friendship when talking to him hadn't made you feel better. “maybe bangs?”

He brings a hand up to his chest, mock offense written into his expressive features before his face lights up with glee. You know you're in for it now. “Oh where oh where has my baby gone,” he sings just loud enough to for you alone to hear.

“Stop,” you protest, flushing red and laughing, tears welling up in your eyes. You teared up easily when laughing. “Please the puppies are begging you to stop!”

Harry laughs, his gaze completely focused on you, “did you finish the art project you were working on then?”

Despite him being the only person you trusted with your super secret art projects, you still felt yourself blush, hand coming up to brush stray hairs back behind your ear, “the initial photography, but I’m still working through the editing. The ones I've finished are coming out almost the way I pictured them.”

“Almost?”

“Well things are never exactly how you imagine them are they,” you note, “or maybe I'm just overthinking things and have been working on them for too long.”

“You probably just need a pair of fresh eyes,” Harry says as they bring out your food. Their eggs in tomatoes looked deceptively simple and yet yours were never as good.

“Smooth,” you utter, grinning at him. “Do you hit up everyone's DMs like that?”

Harry shakes his head, “no but really baby, can I see what you have so far?” His lips are drawn earnestly.

You nod, “sure, we can make a movie night out of it too. I've been dying to try out this no bake chocolate cream pie.”

“Only if I get to pick the movie?”

“Deal.”

You slump on the cheap ikea couch you and your roommates had pooled cash together to buy once you get home, bag full of snacks.

“Tired,” Julia asks from the kitchen, shamelessly eating straight out of the pan.

“Yeah,” you tell her, “Arjun called in sick and since I'm the newest hires I got the short end of the stick and pulled a double shift.”

“Isn't work amazing,” Julia replies, bring the pan and an extra fork for you, settling down next to you. “My boss called me this morning at 6am and had me call a bunch of places in India to find some extra fabric for a client. I wasn't due til 9!”

“What an outrage,” I deadpan.

“Maybe we can still be witches in the midlands,” she offers, “or raise cows in the highlands.”

“God that's such a mood,” you sigh, taking the fork and eating her cheesy pasta dish. “I thought working in a lab would be nice and easy compared to school and it is but dealing with my boss and the hectic hours has left me with no social life.”

“Right! I've missed so many parties and good djs because I'm on call talking to far off places sourcing textiles! I just hope I get promoted so I can go on trip to source and not just spend all hours of the day being an errand girl.”

You nod, mouthful of pasta, “I heard hospital labs are pretty good but I've been told I need more experience.”

She laughs bitterly before gazing at your loot of snacks, “Harry coming over?”

“Yeah,” you reply, “we’re watching a movie and pigging out after a long ass week.” You has been looking forward to it all day despite how drained you were; to the bone, to the point coffee wasn't much help.

Opening snapchat you see harry's sent you a couple photos.

Him in a ruffled white shirt, loosely buttoned, caption reading in the mood for a period romance? ;))

The next was of him in a tastefully ripped shirt that probably cost more than your rent, and a worn flannel, or a rom com?

The there was Harry wearing an old dark knight shirt you'd gotten him for his birthday at a charity shop, or will we go full superhero landing!?!

Rolling your eyes and smiling your reply with a blurry selfy, the most dramatic frog to ever prince.

“God I can't wait til we're all sixty and you've both been married and divorced and finally get together,” she says teasingly, “or worse it's like you're both gotten together and your s.o’s are the third and fourth wheel!”

“Shut up,” you tell her, “we're literally the same. You spent most of fresher in my dorm once we met. You made me help shave your back.”

“That's friendship bitch,” Julia says with a laugh, “just keep in mind Imma be like dead to the world.”

“Wow,” you state, “you've come such a long way from being a complete party animal.”

“Right,” she mutters, “I miss drinking and showing up hungover to class.”

“It's all downhill from here,” you tease.

She swats your fork away from the pot, “what a depressing thought.”

Harry texts you to let you know he's here and you buzz him up, hugging him before saying, “i might have to steal this sweater from you.” It ridiculously soft the way only old sweaters are.

He laughs, “I brought a bottle of rose.”

“ooh let me try this knife trick i've been practicing,” you tell him as he kicks off his boots and settles in.

“Don't want to die today but thanks.”

“Harold,” you respond mock affronted. “So what movie have you chosen for us today art hoe?”

“You're the one who can quote the cool girl monologue by heart,” he retorts, grabbing the wine opener and starting on the cork. Unlike you, he managed it without cursing for half an hour and deciding boxed wine wasn't a bad idea.

“The movie harry,” you say, grabbing a couple of blankets and pillows for the couch along with your art journal.

“Searching,” he answers, “Sarah said it was really good and slept on.”

“And even if it's not there's always chips and hummus.”

“Very true,” Harry responds, pouring wine into mugs like a maniac and settling down next to you on the couch, his own worn journal in hand. “But it's Sarah and Mitch they have great taste in pretty much everything.”

“High praise coming from you,” you note palming through your journal, over the drawing and words you'd written down over the last few months.

He grins, looking perfectly at home in your modest flat. Harry has never been weird about being famous and rich and- it made it that much easier to be friends with him. To forget about all that and just be friends with Harry, not Harry styles. “It is ain't it,” he utters lips curled into a sinners smile, the kind he gave girls and boys when you went out to clubs.

“There goes your big head again,” you retort, putting your journal down and curling up with a handful of popcorn.

“Oi!” Harry furrows his brow staring you down for a second before launching himself at you, pinning you down and tickling your sides, “take it back!”

“Never,” you yelp, giggling madly, Your arms against his chest as you push him off easily. It's so easy to be comfortable with him, he's just such a hugger and you can't say you don't like it, the warmth and security you feel.

He laughs, “so long as you let me see your journal baby,” is his only response, chest still shaking from laughter.

“I'll show you mine if you show me yours,” you respond jokingly. The sense of humor middle schoolers had still there in your head.

“Deal,” he replies, shifting so his head is resting in your lap, passing you his own journal before grabbing yours off the coffee table. You'd never felt as grown up as you did when buying a coffee table, even more so than buying pans and dishes instead of eating everything out of a mug.

Mindlessly, your fingers run through his hair, soft and silky and starting to curl up behind his ears. You wonder if he'll let it grow out again. You prefer him like this but it was fun to braid his strands of hair.

His journal is more full of words than drawings, in his sloppy scrawl, like in old letters. Leather bound parchment, it's tons nicer than your own moleskine you'd gotten on sale, with the true victorian era feel you'd been obsessed with in your younger years.

There's a dreamy quality to the writing, fragmented thoughts that he trusts you with.

The tv plays quietly in the background, you’re too immersed to say anything, to break the comfortable silence with any words, occasionally reaching for a chip, smothering it in hummus.

In the beginning, when Harry had first crashed at your small cramped flat at uni, he'd drunkenly looked through your journal, well one of your journals, covered in all your loose thoughts and many many drawings and sketches, ideas for pieces that you'd spend what little free time you had doing.

You'd gotten annoyed and a little mad, because your journal was private and personal and who did you think you were? Frida Kahlo? It wasn't like he'd meant to, drunk and a little high. It wasn't one of your best moments but he'd bought you a cuppa tea the next morning before you'd woken up and let you flip through his own journal, just to make it up to you.

That's how he'd become the person you trusted to show your art to.

“Don't laugh at my sad attempts at poetry,” he mutters, his gaze meeting yours somewhat self consciously. His cheeks are flushed red but you can't tell if it's from laughing or because he's actually embarrassed.

“Trying to be just like Bukowski,” you tease. You'd never actually read anything by him, you just read about him being kind of an asshole in real life.

He rolls his eyes at you, “ever since you sent me that song I can't think about him the same!”

“I just thought you'd want to know. That song is such a depression mood though.”

Harry grows serious, looking up at you. Your hand stills in his hair. “Are you alright?”

You nod, “yeah I'm fine I was just joking.” It's true. You haven't felt depressed in months, haven't been bad in longer. Progress.

“You'd tell me if-”

“Oh course,” you cut him off with a smile, closing his journal. “Want to see how my latest and greatest projects progressing?”

He smiles softly, “why else do you think I'm here for?”

You smack him lightly with his own journal, getting up and getting your laptop. This latest idea of yours has come at the cost of having to learn to use digital editing. Thank god for youtube.

Harry sits up and watches as your scroll through some of the more finished pictures of both women and men you'd reached out to, dragging Julia with you to feel braver about approaching strangers. Something you wouldn't have done a year ago.

Their pictures have been edited to exaggerate their insecurity, ranging from overly larger noses to small eyes and thin lips. It had been an idea since you'd read about Jacqueline de Ribes who someone had said how sad it was if you didn't have a great big nose like she had.

“Especially in this era of face tuning and filters and contouring where everyone is trying to hide what they feel insecure about,” you tell him, watching the shift of his lips, his pensive gaze, trying to gage his reaction. No one but you has seen these. Although when you’re done they'll also be sent to your models, who'd been nice enough to open up about their insecurities to you. Maybe it was easier to talk to strangers you'd never see again about these things. Wasn't that the whole idea behind therapy?

“At first I only edited it slightly but I didn't think the idea came across as strongly and in your face. I mean maybe by airing out and owning our insecurities we can overcome them? Or maybe just stop idealizing one specific type of feature?” These were the questions that you thought would be answered by doing this, but there didn't seem to be any easy answers.

“I like them,” he tells you, “It's like things you wouldn't have noticed I mean most people are alright looking and then you actually get to know them and it all warps how you see people. Like gee doesn't Tom look like such an bloody asshole.”

You snort, shaking your head, “you had me in the first half I'm not going to lie.”

After that you both mess about, putting on parks and recs for the hundredth time, skipping to the second season when Ben and Chris come in. It's still as funny as the first time you had watched it.

It's late and your both half asleep on the couch and smiling at the tv, legs bumping against Harry's much longer legs.

“I should probably go,” he mutters.

“No stay,” you tell him, “it's late and you can just crash with me.” You’d both slept in the same bed lots of times by now, the initial awkwardness long gone as you stopped to you underwear and an old t shirt that was long enough to pass for a dress.

“Should I be worried about your alarm?”

“I can actually wake up even if my alarms just on vibrate,” you let him know, because god you wish you didn't have work tomorrow so you could wake up late and go get overly expensive breakfast at the dinner down the street who made the fluffiest american style pancakes. It was a treat you loved to get yourself.

Harry helps you drag some of the blankets into your room, tossing them onto the bed. You curl up next to the wall, nestling into the covers. From the corner of your eye you watch Harry pull his shirt off before kicking off his jeans, ripped at the knees.

He's fit and you can't help but mentally trace over the butterfly he has tattooed that you thought stupid at first but had grown on you. Gracelessly he flops onto the bed, sliding under the covers.

“Your feet are always freezing,” he complains which just makes you kick him lightly. “Ow! Woman!”

“Shut up and sleep,” you tell him turning over on your side, curling into near fetal position.

“But what about going on my phone for an hour in bed?”

“Good night harold,” you say in lieu of an actual reply.

“I won't let the bed bugs bite you.”

“Your so dumb,” you whisper fondly, closing your eyes and easily falling asleep after a long day.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #will be part one of more and eventual romance if i can mkae myself write #*youtuber voice* let me know what you guys think in the comments

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timetravelingheart · 6 years

Text

My Side of the Fence Part Seven: A.M. Imagine

Warning: From here on out, there may be references to sex and/or smut scenes. I probably won’t go too into detail, but who knows. Depends on where the writing takes me. Consider yourself warned! :) As always, feedback is appreciated.

“I’ve never seen him this way before,” Mitch mock-whispered to Morgan as they watched Auston walk from his bathroom to his bedroom closet over and over, trying on different shirts, hats, and shoes, leaving a pile of ‘rejects’ strewn across the floor and bed.

“Did he get hit in the head at all during practice or a game?” Morgan mock-whispered back.

“You two are not helping,” Auston grunted as he pulled on his go-to white tee for the third time. Morgan and Mitch stopped by after their afternoon practice to ‘help’ Auston get ready for his non-date, but he was starting to regret letting them tag along. He was used to taking their chirps, and usually giving them back just as well, but he had been on edge all day. If anything, they only made him more nervous.

“Dude, what’s the deal?” Morgan moved in to the room from his place in the doorway, cleared a space on the queen-size bed, and plopped down. Mitch quickly followed suit. As much fun as they had been having teasing Auston about his crush ever since Auston and Savannah met, he knew his best friend was really worked up about their non-date tonight.

“What do you mean?”

“You used to go out on dates with random girls all the time and you were always a cocky little shit about it-” Morgan’s quick reflexes helped him catch the balled up sweater Auston whipped at his head before it could hit him. “We all know it’s true so don’t even deny it. Seriously man, what’s up? Why is this non-date such a big deal?”

Sighing, Auston sat down on the large chair in the corner of the room and put his head in his hands, carefully avoiding the hair he spent a good twenty minutes styling into place. Mitch and Morgan waited patiently for their friend to speak, not wanting to set him off.

“She’s not just some random girl. She’s...I don’t even know how to explain it. It sounds so insane every time I try to even put it into words because we’ve only known each other for over a month now and I still feel like I don’t really know much about her. But I can’t stop thinking about her. And she’s not just some girl I want to hook up with,” he paused, waiting for his friends to make fun of him. When nothing came, he continued.

“I want to know everything about her. I want to hear all about her training sessions, her competitions, what she does in between competitions. I want to stay up late and just talk about anything and everything with her. This girl is unbelievably too good for me that I am so nervous that I’ll screw this up and scare her off. She already knows about my past and that’s obviously a hit against me, especially for a girl who already seems to have trust issues. She’s perfectly fine just being on her own and focusing on herself without needing anyone else, so it’s not like she even remotely needs me or someone like me in her life so I feel like I have to work even harder to prove to her that it could be worth it. That I could be worth it. She’s not just a girl. She’s the girl.”

The room fell silent for what felt like an eternity to Auston. No one said anything, but he watched tentatively as Mitch and Morgan sat stunned, seemingly mulling over his words. Finally, Mitch spoke up.

“Holy shit. You’re falling for her.”

Auston nodded slowly.

“You are so fucked.”

At 5:25pm, Auston knocked on Savannah’s apartment door. He had finally decided on skinny black jeans, a burgundy pocket tee, and a black bomber jacket. He felt a little better after opening up to Mitch and Morgan, and they were surprisingly supportive without joking, but now that he was at her door, the nerves came flooding back. He could only hope that he didn’t throw up on her when she opened the door. He knocked again, then stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels as he waited. When she opened the door, he felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

She was wearing dark wash skinny jeans, a soft off-the-shoulder hunter green sweater that brought out her eyes perfectly, brown booties, with her hair pulled up in a neat ponytail to show off her toned shoulders - she looked stunning.

“You look incredible,” Auston spoke before he even realized the words tumbling out of his mouth.

Savannah laughed lightly. He had clearly not meant to say anything, but it was so endearing the way he seemed to lose his sense of control around her. She had never had a guy look at her the way he looked at her. Like he was looking into her and trying to see all of the parts of herself that she held for only herself and few selected others. Savannah had never felt so truly seen before.

This non-date was absolutely a terrible idea. She was so screwed and they hadn’t even stepped out of her building yet.

“Thank you,” Savannah finally spoke, reaching over to grab her purse on the table next to her door. She stepped out in the hallway and locked her door, hoping that the few moments she was turned away from him would help her reset and find some ounce of composure. Turning back to him, she gave him a quick once-over, trying hard not to stare. “You look okay,” she bumped his hip playfully as they made their way to the elevator, barely causing him to alter his course of direction.

“Watch it there, little one,” Auston chided as he bumped her back with a little more force. Savannah laughed as she lost her balance, trying to push the elevator button. They stepped into the elevator quietly, with neither one speaking until they got into Auston’s jeep.

“How was your day today?” he asked as he pulled out of the complex.

“It was good! I had practice this morning and started going over some free dance choreography to really tighten up the program. It’s definitely not finished, but I felt really great about it today. How about you?”

“We had practice this morning as well, but it definitely doesn’t sound as exciting as yours. We just did some of the usual drills and trying to work out some of the line combinations before the season opener.” Auston pulled up to his apartment complex. “Do you mind if we just park here and walk over? It’s only about a ten minute walk. The last time we went, we couldn’t get parking anywhere near the place.”

“Not at all! It’s really nice out. I’d like to enjoy this weather while it lasts.” Once Auston parked in his parking garage, they got out quickly and started walking up the street.

“It’s crazy how energized this whole city seems for the season. Your faces are everywhere! I even caught a few of your interviews with Tavares.”

Auston groaned. He was always so awkward in those interviews and John was even worse. Savannah laughed knowingly.

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen Connor’s video of you dancing, I know you have more personality than you let on,” she watched him carefully out of the corner of her eye.

Auston winced and groaned even louder this time, which made Savannah just laugh harder.

“I cannot believe we made it out in time! I thought for sure we screwed up by finding the last clue first.”

“Sav, that one was all you. I didn’t realize you were so good with word games and riddles! How did you even figure out that first clue?” Auston was really impressed with Savannah’s smarts in the room. She was analytical and thoughtful, and he was content to just watch her go through her thought process with each clue. He was proud that he was able to get some of the clues on his own, but mostly he was happy just to be with her. He couldn’t help but smile over at her as they made their way towards the exit.

“Sometimes the obvious answer is the right answer. We were a good team though.”

It turned out that they were the perfect pair to do an escape room together. They each had different strengths and could focus on different parts of the clues to reach the end just before time ran out. Savannah was impressed that Auston not only recognized and appreciated her strengths, but actually took a step back to listen to her when she was thinking a clue through out loud. He didn’t try to interrupt her or act like his way was the only way.

“I grew up obsessed with any kind of puzzle, including word puzzles. I still do a crossword puzzle every day.”

“Every day? And you actually finish them?”

“I do! I have to, otherwise it drives me insane all day.”

“What got you into crosswords?”

Auston watched as a look he didn’t recognize crossed Savannah’s soft features before her performance face appeared, and he immediately felt like he had overstepped. He respected her performance face when she was in her element on the ice, but grew to hate it in these moments when it felt like she was shutting down and hiding a part of her away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried. You don’t have to answer that.”

The performance face disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Savannah didn’t even realize when she did it most of the time; it was just a natural reaction now when someone she didn’t know very well tried to get a little too close for her liking. But there was something about Auston that made her want to share more of herself with him. It was scary to feel that way about someone. Her previous boyfriends could barely get passed one of her layers and she had always been fine with that. Until now, it seemed. She reached over and squeezed his arm briefly as they walked towards the exit. He really was so sweet.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t talk about it often, so sometimes it catches me off guard when it comes up. My grandmother had Alzheimer’s. At first it was really mild, but eventually it got to the point where she didn’t even remember or recognize my mom. It was really hard to visit her. Brain games are supposed to help prevent it.”

“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine.”

"Thank you. Actually, if there was something positive that came from it, it was being able to witness true love firsthand. My grandparents were married for over 60 years, and even though near the end she didn’t always recognize my grandpa, he still visited her every day. When people would ask him why he visited every day, even though it was so emotionally draining for him on the days when she didn’t remember him, his answer was always the same: ‘She’s the love of my life. And she may not remember me, but I certainly remember her. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.’”

“Wow. That’s incredible.”

Savannah smiled softly, clearly swept up in the memory of her grandparents. “They were incredible.” Catching her eye, Auston gave her a quick wink and a soft smile. He was about to say something else, but noticed the sound of rain pounding on the roof of the building. It was pouring. They looked at each other helplessly. Finally, Savannah spoke.

“What do we do now? Hide in a nearby cafe until it subsides?”

Auston looked out the doors and up at the sky. He instinctively moved closer to her when a clap of thunder rang out into the night. It didn’t look like it was going to subside any time soon. He had an idea that he hoped wouldn’t be overstepping.

“We could make a run for it? Go to my place, get dry, and order food?” Auston held out his hand for her to grab.

Savannah eyed his hand briefly. Thinking it over, she placed her hand in his and nodded at him. “Let’s do it!”

“I should have looked at the weather report. I’m so sorry!”

They stepped into his apartment, both dripping from head to toe.

“It’s okay Auston, I’m not going to melt. I’m just a little wet.”

“Here, let me get you a towel and then you can change into some dry clothes,” Auston moved quickly into his apartment, pulling out two warm fluffy towels and walking one back to Savannah. He wrapped it around her shoulders and rubbed her arms, trying to warm her up. Even though it was an innocent action meant simply to give her shivering form some heat, the air in the room quickly became charged. Tentatively, Savannah raised her chin to meet his steely gaze. He stared back, wanting so badly to lean down just a little to touch his lips to hers, but he was brought out of his reverie when he watched those lips and her teeth chatter. “Wow, you’re really shivering. Do you want to have a hot shower first? I can put your clothes in the dryer for you.”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.” The moment now broken, Savannah couldn’t help but curse her chattering mouth for betraying her. She had wanted to close the distance between them and finally feel what it was like to kiss him. Even though she knew it was a bad idea, she couldn’t deny how much stronger and more frequently these urges were taking over all of her senses.

She followed closely behind as he lead her into his apartment towards the bathroom. She had never been in his apartment before. It was nice and cozy, and while it clearly had been decorated by someone other than Auston, there were little touches here and there that made it feel like him.

“My mom and sisters keep a bunch of shower stuff here in the cabinet, so feel free to use any of that. There should also be a hair dryer in there for you to use.”

Savannah couldn’t help but wonder how many other girls he gave the same speech to. How many other girls had been in this apartment, using his shower, wearing his clothes? Should it even bother her what that number might be? Steph had briefly made references to Auston’s past and while Savannah wasn’t one to judge, she couldn’t help but wonder where on the line she fell. Was she just another girl? And if she was, why should she care? It’s not like she could date him anyway. She had a promise to keep. She had gold medals to win. Eyes on the prize - a gold medal was more permanent than a guy who may or may not just be into her for one night.

While Savannah took a shower, Auston quickly changed into dry sweats and ordered pizza, trying to distract himself from thinking about Savannah in his shower. He had actually never brought a girl back to his apartment before unless he was consistently seeing her, which only happened a couple of times, or if they were really just a friend. Usually he went to the girl’s place because it was easier to make a quick exit. But with Savannah, he didn’t need or want an exit. He wanted to keep her here for as long as she wanted to stay - which he hoped was a long time. He couldn’t help but notice how different he felt in her presence. He couldn’t help but want to be the best version of himself with her, whoever that guy might be.

He was busy reading a few texts when he heard soft footsteps padding his way, breaking him out of his thoughts. When he turned, he was face to face with Savannah in nothing but a towel, her hair now dry. He hadn’t even heard her blowdrying her hair.

“Uhm, Auston?” Savannah waved one hand in front of his face. She used the other to hold up her towel, still shivering slightly. “Auston?”

Auston blinked quickly, shaking his head. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

“Do you have something I can wear?”

“Oh! Right, sorry,” he moved past Savannah, keeping his eyes straight ahead, trying not to look anywhere near her. “Here, I don’t think anything is really going to fit you, but these sweats have a drawstring at least. Do you want a hoodie or a tee?”

“Do you have a long-sleeved tee I could wear?”

“Here. I was just going to make some tea. The food should be here soon.”

“Perfect, thank you.” Savannah retreated quietly back to his bedroom to finish getting dressed. When she returned, Auston was paying the person at the door for the pizza. She noticed he had turned on Netflix and pulled a couple of plush blankets to the couch.

“Here, sit. I thought you might want a blanket. I’ll bring you your tea once it’s ready. We could watch something while we eat?”

“Sure. Do you like Friends?”

“I love Friends! Good choice.”

While Auston moved to the kitchen to pour their tea, Savannah moved slowly around his living room, taking in the decorations and pictures. She couldn’t help but notice none of his pictures were hockey related. She spotted his parents, two girls she assumed to be his sisters, what were likely his grandparents, and some of his friends. If any of them were hockey friends, the pictures had nothing to do with hockey, but just them hanging out. Now that she thought about it, she realized that the only hockey-related item in his apartment (the rooms that she had seen at least) was a gym bag near the front door and a Maple Leafs hoodie tossed on a chair. She made a mental note to ask about that later.

Auston walked over to her with two steaming cups of tea and handed one to her. “Just milk, right?”

“How did you know that?”

“You’ve made tea so many times at Mitchy’s that it’d be impossible not to know how you take it. I even poured the milk in first, even though I think you’re wrong that it makes it taste better.”

“Hey! It’s how my Scottish grandpa used to make his and he was never wrong about anything!”

Auston raised his hands in mock surrender. “I promise to never question the decisions of your Scottish grandpa ever again.”

“Good!” Savannah nodded sharply, in mock seriousness.

Auston couldn’t help but laugh at how cute she was when she wanted to make a point. He motioned to the couch and they both settled onto opposite ends. He put a couple of slices of pizza on two plates for them and watched as she snuggled up under the blankets, seeking warmth. She was swimming in his clothes, but she looked so content and warm that he felt a little guilty at how happy the rain made him. She was here, in his home, looking perfectly in place. Like she belonged here.

After finishing off the pizza, they were onto their third episode of Friends and had already had two spirited debates about what the best episodes of the series were (Savannah a staunch “The One With the Prom Video” supporter - “He’s her LOBSTER, Auston!” - and Auston an equally avid supporter of “The One Where No One’s Ready” - “Could I BE wearing anymore clothes?”) when Savannah turned to Auston. She realized that because she had been so focused on protecting her heart and keeping her distance these past few weeks, she really didn’t know much about Auston other than what she had learned that first night on the beach.

“Let’s play a game.”

Auston turned away from the TV to look at her confused. “A game?”

“Yes, you do know what that word means, don’t you?” she smiled teasingly, laughing as he threw a pillow at her head.

“Yeah smartass, I know what that word means. I just meant what game?”

“21 questions? I feel like I don’t know that much about you.”

“Okay, but what are your rules? Everyone plays differently.”

Savannah thought about it. She wanted to know about him, and knew it was only fair that he could ask her questions too. But how personal did they want to get?

“Okay, rule #1: You can’t ask a question that you wouldn’t be willing to answer yourself.”

Auston nodded slowly. That seemed fair.

“Number 2?”

“Rule #2: You can say pass if you’re not comfortable answering a question.”

“Can I make an amendment? You can say pass, or you can say that it’s a question that can be asked again at a later date.”

“Why?”

“Because even if we’re not comfortable answering it now, maybe it’s something we can work towards the better we get to know each other?”

Savannah mulled it over. What were the chances of his memory being so good that he’d bring it up again?

“Deal. And rule #3: You can only tell the truth.”

Auston turned away from the TV to fully face Savannah. The light from the TV and the occasional lightning brightening up the room every once in a while.

“It’s your game, so you can ask a question first.”

Savannah took a moment to think about a question. There was one that had been weighing on her mind since she first heard about it, and now seemed like the perfect time to clear the air.

“Okay, here it goes. I’ve heard little references here and there about your ‘past’ with women. Care to tell your side of the story?”

Auston coughed, sputtering the water he had just taken a sip of all over himself.

This was going to be an interesting night.

#auston matthews #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews fan fiction #auston matthews writing #mitch marner #nhl imagine #nhl writing #nhl fan fiction #hockey imagine #hockey fan fiction

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huahsu · 6 years

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YEAR OF WHAT HAPPENS ON EARTH STAYS ON EARTH

[longer version of what I contributed to the new yorker’s year-end package. you can read that here, and listen to the accompanying megamix the video team made! links to previous year’s lists at bottom.] I did not grow up going to church, and I am not a particularly religious person. A few days after the inauguration, I wandered into a nearby church and took a seat in the back pews. I’d gone there right after the election. There was some time for anyone with anything on their mind to stand up and speak. If you need others to pray for you, just let us know. A middle-aged black man in a leather jacket got up and began telling us about an argument he was having with a friend on Facebook. It was about the election, but it was actually about the intractability of racism. He was getting frustrated while describing it to us, in part because he seemed to value being the cool and level-headed one. Plus he was describing the kind of argument millions of people were having on the Internet. “I just hope he finds peace,” the guy said. He paused, then put his hands on his chest. “On a lighter note, today would have been Jimi Hendrix’s seventy-fourth birthday.” He opened up his leather jacket to show everyone his Hendrix t-shirt. “I just wanted to say that, because he was just awesome.” So I returned here, the day after marching through Manhattan with a poster that said “HOLD ON, BE STRONG.” I needed to be in a room that was powered by something other than hate--to be reminded of vision and purpose, even if they weren’t mine to claim. To listen to wisdom gleaned from a book I’ve never read, and pick and choose what I wanted. To hear others pour themselves into songs I never, ever sing along to. I wanted to steal their vibes. Instead of a hymn, they passed out small pieces of paper with the lyrics of John Lennon’s “Imagine.” This is not the type of church people come to for the music. The pianist started playing, and I remember thinking about how it felt like magic when I learned how to play those chords as a kid. I couldn’t believe we were doing this. We sang, tentatively at first, as though we could not believe these words in this space. Picture it: singing of “no heaven” and “no religion, too,” with humility and hope, inside a house of worship. It was like an admission that faith was inadequate. All we had was one another. “Imagine” is a song I’ve heard millions of times, the type of song that is so ubiquitous that we rarely bother scrutinizing its words, its vantage point, the possibility that someone wrote these words because he actually believed them. I sang along with a room of strangers, and we looked at one another, and, for the first time in months, I began to cry. TWO LYRICS THAT REMINDED ME OF POLITICS EVEN IF THEY HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH POLITICS "Wrote this shit January 21″ “Take me back to November / Take me back to November” “I’M AN ANGRY TEENAGER” Novelist, “Street Politician” ONCE THEY START, I HAVE TO LISTEN TO THE END Jim O’Rourke’s recently unearthed cover of Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car” Kanye’s sitcom-length remix of “Bed” THURSDAY NIGHTS ON NBC Ross from Friends’ very Madchester guitar-y Boiler Room set DJ Seinfeld, Time Spent Away from U Nino Man, Jadakiss and Styles P, “Friends”

IN ANOTHER YEAR FULL OF NIRVANA/KURT COBAIN REFERENCES (DID YOU SEE JAY:Z’S JACKET?) MY FAVORITE SONG, PROBABLY: this Trippie Redd snippet

SOME VERSIONS OF THE NINETIES THAT WILL NEVER COME BACK THE WAY GRUNGE ENNUI HAS, BUT WERE SO POSSIBILITY-RICH TO ME BACK THEN Kicking Giant, This Being the Ballad of Kicking Giant, Halo: NYC/Olympia 1989-1993 Helium, The Dirt of Luck/The Magic City LIKE MANY WHO LOVED “A STORM IN HEAVEN,” I OVERLOOKED THEM AT THE TIME Acetone, 1992-2001 A REALLY GOOD BOOK ABOUT ACETONE, LOS ANGELES, DREAMS OF GREATNESS Sam Sweet, Hadley Lee Lightcap WOULD HAVE LOVED THIS IN 1994, 2002 OR 2017 Big Thief, Capacity CREDIBLE AND DOPE EARLY NINETIES R&B HOMAGE, SAX AND ALL Joyce Wrice, “Good Morning” SPEAKING OF THE NINETIES, LEECH MADE A MIXTAPE OF JUST THE FLOATY/DREAMY PARTS TAKEN FROM CLASSIC GOOD LOOKING/MOVING SHADOW SINGLES Leech, “Just the Liquid” FOR THE COMEDOWN, DARK-ASS STUFF ASSEMBLED EXCLUSIVELY FROM SLIPKNOT SAMPLES Croww, Prosthetics NOSTALGIA, ULTRA (UK GARAGE/BASSLINE EDITION) tqd, ukg SUMMERTIME ‘SECOND SUMMER OF LOVE’ VIBE Opus III, “It’s a Fine Day (Burt Fox remix)” UNEXPECTED BURIAL SUMMERTIME VIBES Monic, “Deep Summer (Burial remix)” NO REISSUE OR tk ANNIVERSARY TIE-IN, JUST SOME OLD SONGS I RE/DISCOVERED THIS YEAR Active Minds, “Hobson’s Choice” El-B, “El-Brand” Kamal Abdul Alim, “Brotherhood” Spiritualized in Reykjavik U2, “Numb (Soul Assassins remix)” U2, “Mysterious Ways (Massive Attack remix)”

SAME, BUT TAIWANESE INDIE ROCK EDITION Chocolate Tiger, “Piecing Together” REISSUES, OR: PEOPLE HAVE ALWAYS BEEN WEIRD AND SPACY#, OBSESSED WITH NATURAL BEAUTY## # Planetary Peace, Synthesis # Pauline Anna Strom, Trans-Millennia Music ## Pep Llopis, Poiemusia La Nau Dels Argonaut REISSUES, OR: WHEN I WAS A CHILD THERE WERE NO BETTER SONGS THAN THE ONES THAT PLAYED THROUGH TRANSFORMERS: THE MOVIE AND FOR SOME REASON THIS JOYOUS EP REMIND ME OF THAT SHEEN, THOSE HOOKS, THE PERFECT, THEATER-SIZED ECHO Om Alec Khaoli, Say You Love Me BEST ALBUM-LENGTH METAPHOR FOR THE CITY, ITS LIMITATIONS AND POSSIBILITIES Wiki, No Mountains In Manhattan SOUNDS EXACTLY LIKE IT WAS DESCRIBED, JAMAICA VIA OUTER SPACE Equiknoxx, Colon Man I NEED TO GO OUT MORE Jex Opolis, “Mt. Belzoni” KH, “Question”

I LISTENED TO THIS ABOUT TEN TIMES, MY SENSE OF ENCHANTMENT GROWING AND GROWING EACH TIME, BEFORE REALIZING THERE WERE BARELY ANY DRUMS ON IT Mr. Mitch, Devout SERIOUSLY THE MR. MITCH ALBUM WAS REALLY MOVING AND FANTASTIC Mr. Mitch f/ Denai Moore, “Fate” CRAZY WISDOM MASTER Vince Staples, Big Fish Theory C’MON AND RAISE UP Rapsody f/ Kendrick, Lance Skiiwalker, “Power” SO ICEY Zomby, Mercury’s Rainbow ECHO PARTY Demen, Nektyr Evy Jane, “Give Me Love” THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST Vic Mensa, The Autobiography DUNGEON FAMILY, EVEN IN DARKNESS Earthgang f/ J.I.D., “Meditate” FUNNY HOW TIME SLIPS AWAY Lee Gamble, Mnestic Pressure Pessimist, s/t NOT SURE HOW THIS BECAME THE DIWALI OF 2017 BUT OKAY French Montana f/ Mariah, Rae Sremmurd, PNB Rock, Belly, Elephant Man, Vybz Kartel, J Balvin, NORE, Wizkid, “Unforgettable” HOW ARE THIS MANY PEOPLE ON A FOUR MINUTE SONG? GOOD VIDEO THOUGH A$AP Mob f/ A$AP Rocky, Playboi Carti, Quavo, Lil Uzi Vert and Frank Ocean, “RAF” I LIKE IT WHEN FERG’S VOICE GETS ALL NAGGY Ferg, “Plain Jane” METRO BOOMIN MADE A BEAT THAT REMINDED ME OF RADIOHEAD Post Malone f/ Quavo, “Congratulations” THE MARIACHI VERSION IS PRETTY SWEET Brian Imanuel, “How I surprised Post Malone with a mariachi band” ”IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR LYRICS, IF YOU’RE LOOKING TO CRY, IF YOU’RE LOOKING TO THINK ABOUT LIFE...” JonWayne, Rap Album Two CORNBALL PIANOS AND THEN THAT SYNTH DRAGS, AND THEN THE DRUMS KICK Tee Grizzley, “First Day Out” “BUT WILD/WITH MY MONOTONE STYLE” 21 Savage, “Bankroll” Kodak Black, “Candy Paint” Rich Chigga, “Glow Like Dat” ANNUAL SPOT RESERVED FOR LA MUSICA DE HARRY FRAUD French Montana f/ Pharrell, “Bring Dem Things” WHEN LAETITIA SAYS HER OWN NAME ON “EMBERS” Vagabon, Infinite Worlds WHEN JESSIE LEANS INTO THE WORD “FUCK” Jessie Reyez, “Figures” THAT LIGHT MISTING, THAT CASUAL SPRITZ OF SYNTHS Lanark Artefax, “Touch Absence” A GOOD ANTI-DJT THING THAT CAME OUT EARLY THIS YEAR, WHICH FEELS LIKE EONS AGO Lushlife + friends, My Idols are Dead + My Enemies are in Power THE BABY, THE FLUTES, PIERRE’S OBNOXIOUSLY LONG TAG, THE JESSE LINGARD DANCE Playboi Carti, “Magnolia” ILLEST SHIT I SAW THIS YEAR, BABY-RELATED A child at a restaurant watching an iPad and an iPhone at the same damn time “[FREE] PLAYBOI CARTI TYPE BEAT” YBN Nahmir, “Rubbin off the Paint” GUNS N ROSES, BEFORE ONE OF THE WEIRDEST BEEFS OF THE YEAR Trippie Redd f/ 6IX9INE, “POLES1469″ SOMETIMES YOU JUST HAVE TO BELIEVE YOU CAN SING, AND DO IT WITH CONVICTION, AND I WILL LISTEN Trippie Redd, “Rack City/Love Scars 2″ ALL THE BACKGROUND NOISE/ECHOED-OUT ADLIBS MAKE THIS BlocBoy JB, “No Chorus Pt 10″ SMERZ HAS FUN DESPITE THE AWKWARD OF IT ALL Smerz on NTS IT SEEMS REALLY EASY TO MAKE A GOOD-SOUNDING SONG THESE DAYS Global Dan, “Off White” OF ALL THE DOPE SHIT THAT FUTURE APPEARED ON THIS YEAR, THE MOMENT I WILL REMEMBER IS That tiny pause before he sings “I need fresh air,” when he seems happy and content IS THAT A GEORGE MICHAEL SAMPLE? Mozzy, “Prayed for This” THE FIX C Struggs, “Go to Jesus” "IT’S COOL, BUT IT’S NOT...END ZONE” Lil Uzi Vert, “XO TOUR Llif3″ AN ALBUM BOOKENDED BY TOTALLY DIFFERENT KINDS OF COLIN KAEPERNICK/TAKE A KNEE REFERENCES Miguel, War and Leisure IT WAS A VERY GOOD YEAR Brockhampton, Saturation I-III SZA, Ctrl SPEAKING OF SZA: WHAT A GREAT TITLE, BESIDES IT BEING ONE OF MY FAVORITE ALBUMS OF THE YEAR Kingdom, Tears in the Club THE KELELA ALBUM WAS LOVELY, AS ARE THESE Kelela x Bok Bok, Dub Me Apart A RANDOM YOUTUBE COVER THAT I ALSO LIKED, BECAUSE IT CAPTURED HOW MELODIC THE ORIGINAL ACTUALLY IS Kathleen Nguyen covering Kendrick and Zacari’s “Love.” DAMN. WAS GOOD Almost as good as “The Heart Part 4″ LIKE A DE LA SOUL ALBUM, SOMETHING THAT I KNOW I WILL CONTINUE ENJOYING/UNDERSTANDING ANEW FOR YEARS TO COME Tyler, the Creator, Flower Boy ”BLONDED RADIO” MADE ME JOIN APPLE MUSIC Frank Ocean, “Chanel” Frank Ocean, “Biking (solo)” Tyler and Frank, “Where This Flower Blooms” MACH HOMMY MAKES GOOD MUSIC THAT’S HARD TO ACCESS “x Earl Sweatshirt” EP ty Soundcloud IT’S A WEIRD TIME B/W THIS BEAT IS SO DEMENTED Tay-K, “The Race” PROBABLY MY FAVORITE PHARRELL BEAT Kap G f/ Pharrell, “Icha Gicha” MAYBE THE GREATEST MUSIC EVER MADE, REISSUED Pharoah Sanders

REMINDED ME OF PHAROAH, WHEN IT WASN’T REMINDING ME OF BON IVER Joseph Shabason, Aytche AND I ENJOYED AYTCHE FOR SIMILAR REASONS I LIKED ZONING OUT TO Tom Rogerson and Brian Eno, Finding Shore ANNUAL SLOT RESERVED FOR MUSIC I LOVED THAT FEATURED HARP Alice Coltrane, World Spirituality Classics Vol 1

SAME, BUT FOR HARP STUFF THAT ALSO SHOUTS OUT WAWA Mary Lattimore, Collected Pieces ANNUAL SLOT RESERVED FOR TASTEFUL VIBRAPHONE Jenifa Mayanja, “Warrior Strutt” YOU TRYING TO GET THE PIPE, TO PLAY IT, OF COURSE, AS PART OF AN EXPERIMENTAL COMPOSITION? Mary Jane Leach, Pipe Dreams THERE’S A MOMENT DURING THAT BAD BOY DOCUMENTARY CAN’T STOP WON’T STOP WHERE IT BECOMES CLEAR THAT EVERYONE WHO WORKS CLOSELY WITH DIDDY EVENTUALLY TURNS TO GOD, AND IT WAS LIKE THE STRANGE OBVERSE OF Jay Z et al, 4:44 footnotes 2016, BUT I SAT IN THE MET BREUER AND WATCHED THIS OVER AND OVER FOR ABOUT AN HOUR Arthur Jafa, “Love is the Message, The Message is Death” I WANT TO WATCH THE FULL FOUR HOURS OF THIS Dev Hynes talking to Philip Glass TRICKSTERY BUT KINDA MESMERIZING! Klein, Tommy Lolina, Lolita EP Hype Williams, Rainbow Edition “NOT ANOTHER GOT MORE SEOUL, UNLESS YOU KOREAN” (CHILLWAVE REMIX) Mogwaa, Deja Vu “THE TING GOES SKRRRAHH, PAP, PAP, KA-KA-KA/SKIDIKI-PAP-PAP, AND A PU-PU-PUDRRRR-BOOM/SKYA, DU-DU-KU-KU-DUN-DUN/POOM, POOM, YOU DON’ KNOW” Big Shaq, “Mans Not Hot” IBID., BUT “PERKY” Drake, More Life I WANTED TO LIKE THE WIZKID ALBUM MORE, BUT THIS WAS AWESOME Tiwa Savage f/ Wizkid and Spellz, “Ma Lo” LISTENED TO THIS QUITE A FEW TIMES SIMPLY BECAUSE ”BREAKING NEWS: WILD GOAT ON THE LOOSE” IS A WEIRD LINE Lancey Foux f/ AJ Tracey, Kojey Radical and Jevon, “Wild Goat” UNITED TIL I DIE BUT AJ TRACEY’S TOTTENHAM HOTSPUR KIT LAUNCH FREESTYLE HAD ME BUZZZZZZIN AJ Tracey, “False 9″ DIFFERENT TIME OF DAY, KINDA LEFT ME SPEECHLESS Grouper, “Children” Colleen, A Flame my love, a frequency Kara Lis Coverdale, Grafts Ryuichi Sakamoto, async LEFT RYUICHI SAKAMOTO ENVIOUS Metaphors: Selected Soundworks from the Cinema of Apichatpong Weerasethakul FROM OMNI TRIO TO THIS, A PRETTY VISIONARY CAREER Robert Haigh, Creatures of the Deep A SONG THAT FEATURED TWO PEOPLE WHO SHOULD BE PRETTY BIG IN THE NEXT COUPLE OF YEARS DJDS f/ Amber Mark and Marco McKinnis, “Trees on Fire” LIKE, THIS IS GREAT Amber Mark, “Lose My Cool” AWESOME YEAR FOR POTIONS Social Lovers, “Drop Me a Line” Boss, “Song for Gods” WHISKED ME BACK TO MEMORIES OF the enormous room Joakim, “Samurai” Calvin Harris f/ Frank Ocean and Migos, “Slide” Amp Fiddler, “I’m Feeling You” Chaos in the CBD, Accidental Meetings LIKE FALLING ASLEEP ON THE SUBWAY, OR A TRUCK HITTING A POTHOLE AND SPITTING OUT A RECORD COLLECTION, OR HEARING A NANOSECOND OF BRAND NUBIAN THROUGH SOMEONE’S HEADPHONES AS YOU PASS THEM ON THE STREET, IT’S A VIBE Standing on the Corner, Red Burns MIKE’S A SAVIOR Mike 1. I SPENT A LOT OF TIME THIS YEAR THINKING ABOUT THE STRENGTH, ELASTICITY, FRAGILITY, GRAIN OF THE HUMAN VOICE AND SOME OF THIS WAS TOTALLY NECESSARY AND SUBLIME Deep Throat Choir, Be Ok Diamanda Galas, All the Way Moses Sumney, Aromanticism 2. SO ACHINGLY GOOD AND INTIMATE, ESPECIALLY THAT FAINT CROAK IN THE FIRST CHORUS Rostam f/ Kelly Zutrau, “Half-Light” 3. OF COURSE THESE WORLD-MAKERS TOO Bjork, Utopia Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith, The Kid Valerie June, “Astral Plane” 3a. A STRANGE PROPOSITION THAT I ENDED UP ADORING KAS covering Sade’s "By Your Side" THE BAY AREA IS JUST DIFFERENT Droop-E, Trillionaire Thoughts Lil B, Black Ken THE “BUILD YOU UP” VIDEO WAS FUN AND ALL BUT I’M REALLY GLAD THIS WASN’T THAT Kamiayah, Before I Wake THE BAY TO L.A. AND BACK AGAIN Mozzy f/ G Perico, “Blammatory” G Perico f/ Mozzy, “What’s Real” GYEAH MC Eiht, Which Way Iz West OUTRUN THE BEAT SOB x RBE, “Lane Changing 2″ BANDS THAT ALWAYS SOUND LIKE THEMSELVES, IN WAYS THAT I FIND COMFORTING the xx, I See You King Krule, The Ooz SAME AS ABOVE, MIDDLE-AGED DIVISION The Feelies, In Between Slowdive, “Star Roving” SOMEONE WHO SOUNDS LIKE NO ONE ELSE Jlin, Black Origami THE NEW NATIONAL ANTHEM Dreezy f/ 6LACK and Kodak Black, “Spar” I LOOKED UP EACH TIME THIS CAME ON THE SHUFFLE Shanti Celeste, “Loop One/Selector”

PROBABLY MY FAVORITE SONG GoldLink f/ Brent Faiyaz and Shy Glizzy, “Crew” OR MAYBE Jorja Smith x Preditah, “On My Mind” THIS WAS SICK TOO GoldLink & Co. covering Outkast’s “Roses” MAYBE THE BEST SONG J Hus, “Did You See”

ANOTHER YEAR, ANOTHER YEAR WHERE MY FAVORITE RELEASE WAS PROBABLY FROM YAEJI, THE “GLASSES FOGGING UP” LINE WAS VERY RELATABLE Yaeji, EP2 THE SONG OF THE SPRING, SUMMER, WINTER I MEAN, IT’S WAYNE’S WORLD, WE JUST LIVE IN IT ### SIKH DEVOTIONAL MUSIC :: 2016 SPOOKY BLACK :: 2015

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goandsavemyunicorn · 7 years

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Soulmates (Dean x Reader)

Soulmate AU where you have a timer on your wrist counting down to when you meet your soulmate. It’s not Sirens, but I wanted to write it and pounded it out in like two hours on my phone. Dean x Reader

I glance at my wrist for the thousandth time this week, chewing on my lip. The timer is now under three days, making me more nervous than ever. I’m in the middle of getting my hair done, something my older sister, Rosie, insisted upon when I showed her my timer.

Two days, sixteen hours, forty-two minutes and seven seconds. That’s how long I have to meet my soulmate, how long I have before my life changes forever. My hair is already four inches shorter, which isn’t much considering it was elbow length. My sister is chattering about something I don’t care about while the stylist rinses my hair, finally rid of the brightly colored streaks I put in last month.

“Y/n. Are you paying attention?”

“Nope. What did you say, Rosie?” She sighs and stands up, holding a magazine.

“I think you should do this dark brown color. It’s close to your natural color, but it’ll add dimension. And cover the bleach streaks.”

“Fine. I just don’t know why I can’t meet my soulmate looking like I usually look.”

“Because he would take one look at your hair and run away.” She says, sitting back down with her magazine and glass of sparkling water. The stylist starts combing in the new color, chatting with Rosie about wedding dresses and flowers. We finally finish my hair a few hours later, and Rosie pays the stylist before dragging me out to lunch with her husband, Ben, who she soulmated with three years ago.

“So, y/n, I hear you’ve passed the three day mark. How are you feeling?” Ben asks, patting my shaky hand.

“She’s nervous. Ooh, I can’t believe my baby sister is finally going to meet her soulmate!” Rosie gushes, clapping excitedly. Her blonde curls bounce as she claps, the light catching her shiny highlights.

“Rosie. Chill.” I mutter, taking a big gulp of my drink. The liquor stings my throat, but I don’t care. Rosie pouts a little, leaning on Ben’s shoulder. Ben grins sheepishly, rubbing her back.

“Anyway. Who wants food?” He waves at the waiter, who hurries over with a notepad. – Three hours, thirty-seven minutes, eight seconds. Rosie’s spent the last two days with me, cleaning my apartment obsessively, getting it and me ready for my soulmate. She even picked out a outfit for tonight, a little black dress and heeled ankle boots. My hair is in loose waves, old movie style, my makeup is done, and I even let her paint my nails for the first time in three years.

“Y/n, sweetie, you’ve got to leave the apartment to meet the guy!” She pushes me out the door, shoving my keys and purse into my hands. I roll my eyes and walk down the hall to the elevator, wobbling a bit in my boots. Rosie is right alongside me, telling Ben she’ll see him at dinner in ten minutes.

We part ways on the sidewalk, her climbing into a taxi and riding away as I walk the opposite direction, towards the club down the street. I cross the main road and step around a puddle, bumping into a huge, terrifying man.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He turns slowly, glaring down at me. Even in heels, he towers over me.

“You will be.” I reach into my purse, digging for my phone to dial 911. Before I can push the final button, everything goes black as a sharp pain spreads across the side of my head.

I open my eyes and groan, looking around a dark room. A basement, looks like. My hands are tied behind my back, my dress is torn, and I’m pretty sure my head is bleeding. The guy I bumped into earlier is standing in front of me with a gun and a wicked grin on his face.

“Why am I here?”

“You have half an hour to meet your soulmate. I’ve been keeping track, and there’s three possibilities in the world. The only one in this city happens to be an enemy of mine. The kind I want dead.” He chuckles and wipes a drop of blood off my forehead, then licks it off his thumb.

“That’s unsanitary.” I mumble, feeling a little dizzy.

“Shut up.” He smacks my cheek, then walks around to peer at my wrist. “Thirty-seven minutes.”

“You’re a terrible person.”

“Not a person, sweetheart. I’m a monster. Now shut up.” He stuffs a rag in my mouth, effectively silencing me.

Half an hour later, there’s a loud, metallic thud somewhere upstairs, like a screen door being shot open. The big guy sneers and stands up, cocking his gun.

“Looks like he’s early. Let’s see what happens next, shall we?” He ties a new rag around my face, blindfolding me. I hear him walk away, up some wooden stairs. I start screaming through the gag, only a small bit of noise sneaking out. There’s a scuffle upstairs, and my timer beeps softly, three times. Three minutes. More fighting noises, more beeping. Finally there’s a loud thump, and I hear feet rushing down the stairs.

Beep. Five.

Beep. Four.

Beep. Three.

Beep. Two.

Beep. One.

The blindfold is ripped away, followed by the gag. Standing in front of me is a bow-legged man with eyes the color of Granny Smith apples, perfectly kissable lips, and a spattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose.

“Hey there, soulmate. I’m Dean.”

“Y/n.”

“That’s a pretty name, sweetheart. Let’s get you out of here, okay? Your head is bleeding pretty bad.” He unties me gently, lifting me into his arms. There’s a giant at the top of the stairs, holding my purse. He has too-long hair and puppy eyes, accompanied by some blood spattered on his clothes.

“Is that her?” Dean nods, pulling me close against his chest.

“Sammy, this is Y/n. Y/n, this is Sam, my little brother.” I look Sam up and down, thoroughly confused.

“He doesn’t look so little to me, Dean.” Both men laugh, then rush me out to a big black car and set me down in the backseat. Dean drives to a hospital, pulling up to the emergency room doors and jumping out to carry me in.

“She needs a doctor, pronto.” He says to the girl at the desk. She starts typing rapidly, asking for my information and his.

“What is your relationship to her?”

“Soulmate.”

“Since when, sir? Her emergency contact is a…Rosie?”

“Rosie’s my sister.” I mumble, feeling sleepy now.

“Call her, then.” Dean says, setting me on the gurney a nurse walks up to us with. The desk girl nods and starts dialing, watching as I’m wheeled through the swinging double doors. Dean follows closely, squeezing my hand.

“We’re gonna do an MRI, then we’ll stitch you up, okay?” The doctor says softly, shining a little light at my pupils. I nod slightly and look at Dean, who’s pale and nervous.

“Sir, you’re welcome to wait in the hallway.” They wheel me into the MRI lab, and get me strapped in for the scan. It goes quickly, makes some strange noises, but nothing too scary.

“Looks like it’s just a concussion. You’re gonna be fine.” The doctor pats my shoulder, then we go back into the hallway and into a different room. Dean sits beside the bed, holding my hand while the doctor starts stitching up my head. They put a tube in my arm with fluids and some kind of pain medication that makes me sleepier, then leave the room. Fifteen minutes later, Rosie comes bursting into the room.

“Oh my god, sweetie, are you alright?!” She frowns, staring at the bandage on my head.

“I’m peachy, Rosie. Now shhhhhh.” I mumble, squeezing Dean’s hand.

“I was so worried!”

“Rosie. Shush. You’re too loud. Also, this is Dean. He’s my soulmate.” Dean waves at Rosie, who squeals excitedly and reaches out to shake his free hand.

“Pleasure to meet you.” He says, shaking her hand. She squeals again, then pulls out her phone.

“I’m calling dad, Y/n. Go back to sleep.” She leaves the room, already chatting to our father.

“Yeah, we may want to blow town before she calls anyone else. My family is insane and they’ve been waiting for this ‘too long’, which means they’ll all be here tomorrow morning. With balloons and flowers.” I say, matching up my fingertips with Dean’s.

“I can handle that. As long as nobody hears that I killed a monster for you, we’re cool.” He chuckles, kissing my forehead. I smile and drift off, the morphine doing its magic.

The next morning, I wake up to a room full of people, mostly my family. My father is standing on my left side, glaring across the bed at Dean. Rosie is beside my father, with an excited look on her face. Sam is sitting in a chair by the window, and there’s a man with blue eyes wearing a trench coat standing next to him. Two more people walk in, a girl with long red hair and a nerdy t-shirt on, and my brother, Rob.

Rob takes up a space behind my father, the same glare occupying his face. The redhead goes and stands beside Dean, grinning. She’s holding a battered copy of Lord of the Rings.

“So, introductions, before someone glares a hole in my soulmate’s face.” I poke my dad’s arm, frowning at him.

“Everyone, this is Dean, my soulmate. Rob, my brother, Rosie, my sister, and Mitch, my father.” I point at each person as I say their names, trying to kill the tension in the room.

“My brother, Sam. Charlie, family nerd, and Cas, my best friend.” Dean says, squeezing my hand. My father scowls and outstretches one hand, which Dean shakes.

“Firm handshake. I hate you a little less.” My father mutters, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Dad. Be nice.” I sit up a little, tugging at my pillow.

“I brought you flowers! And shook this kid’s hand!” He says, gesturing at a large vase full of white daisies, lilies, and carnations.

“Thanks for the flowers. Be nice to him, he is my soulmate.” I grin up at my father, whose face softens a little. Rob steps forward and squeezes my shoulder gently, grinning.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey, Rob.”

“I was gonna bring flowers, but figured a teddy bear might be better.” He reveals a fluffy bear from behind his back, dressed in a little leather jacket.

“He’s adorable, Rob. Thank you.” I set the bear on the bed next to me, then look up at Dean.

“The doctor said they might release you later today. Then we can all go grab lunch, okay?”

“Sounds great. Nothing too fancy, right?”

“Italian, or American?”

“Mmm, American.” I grin, ignoring my father’s eyeroll.

Three hours later, I sign the release paperwork and the doctor waves me off. The eight of us head down the road to a Tex-Mex place, grouped in two cars. Rob rides with Dean in his car, forcing me and Dean’s friend Cas into my father’s truck.

At the restaurant, Dean helps me out of the truck and leads us all inside, resting his hand on my waist. Lunch goes by pretty easily, without any death threats or serious arguments.

Dean and I finally escape back to my apartment, and I immediately start packing. The entire building is supposed to be short-term living for those who haven’t met their soulmate yet, and when they do, they have to skedaddle. My meager belongings all fit into a single large suitcase and two cardboard file boxes, all of which Dean refuses to let me carry on my own.

In the world we live in, soulmates spend the first year after they meet getting to know each other in a secured location, usually owned by one of the parties involved. They are occasionally visited by family and friends. Then there’s engagement, which can last from six months to a year, depending on how long planning the wedding takes.

–

“Guess what, baby.” Dean kisses my shoulder, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“What?” I grin, kissing his cheek.

“We’re going out tonight. It’s been a year.” The two of us have been staying in this bunker, getting to know each other, since the day after we left my apartment.

“I’ll make sure to wear something special.” He grins down at me, green eyes sparkling.

“I’ll let you get ready, then. Charlie is dropping by later with the stuff you asked for, she said she’ll be here in an hour.”

“Sweet! I had a couple things delivered to her place for tonight.” I run off to take a shower, stopping in my room to grab my towel and my favorite soap.

“Hey girl! I brought your things!” Charlie yells through my door.

“Come on in. I’m just doing my hair.” I yell back, turning off the hair dryer. She walks in and sets the bag on my bed, grinning.

“You’re going to look so good! I totally peeked, by the way. Love the color.” I giggle and look in he bag, pulling out a lacy, strappy bra and matching panties. They’re dark green, and somehow even sexy not on a person.

“Thanks, Charlie!” I hug her tightly, then go back to my mirror to start curling my hair the way it was when I met Dean, minus the head wound and blood. She leaves quietly, closing the door behind her.

At exactly five o'clock, I wander down the hall to the bunker’s library, wearing a flowy black dress with long sleeves. My heels click on the cement floor with each step, echoing around the hallway. Dean looks up as I walk in, and his jaw drops.

“Holy… you look amazing.”

“You look pretty good yourself.” I grin, noting the color of his tie. Dark green. The same color as my lingerie. He picks a long velvet box up off the table, grinning back at me.

“This is for you.” He opens it, revealing a silver necklace with a pendant of tiny emeralds surrounding a diamond.

“It’s beautiful, Dean. I love it.” I kiss his cheek and lift my hair up, letting him clasp it around my neck. He leads me out to the garage, where his Impala has been deep cleaned recently, evidenced by the damp floor and shiny exterior. We drive to a fancy restaurant and stop at the valet stand, where Dean rushes around the front of the car to help me out. We’re ushered to a back table, decorated with candles.

Dinner passes quickly, and the two of us leave in a sleepy haze. Back at the bunker, we walk in to all the lights off. Dean lights a few candles, humming softly, then turns to face me.

“Y/n.”

“Yes?” Dean pulls a tiny velvet box from his pocket, and drops to one knee in front of me.

“Marry me?” I grin and lean down to kiss him.

“Yes,” I whisper against his lips, running my fingers through his hair. A cheer erupts through the bunker, making me jump. The lights turn on, and I finally see that the room is full of our friends and family.

“Did you plan this, Winchester?” I giggle and kiss him again as he slips the ring onto my finger. It matches the necklace he gave me earlier, to a tee.

“Sure did.”

“I love you, Dean.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

-fin-

Let me know how y'all like this! If it gets good feedback I’ll write more @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid

#dean x reader #dean/reader #dean winchester #spn fic #supernatural one shot #fluffy fluff fluff #I might write more if y'all like this one

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