#pour one out for my man fives 2.0
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💖Now that I have some followers who cannot escape my feed and are forced to listen to me, I will rank my top 5 ships from Black Bulter from Worst to Best and explain why I placed them there. BTW my opinion is 100% correct, AND no, I do not take criticism. Buckle up your seat belts because this will be a long ride, and no, we're not gonna stop; you should have gone to the bathroom before we left. Now sit back, relax and HAVE FUN, EVERYONE!!!! 💖
5. Vincent & Madam Red
Aesthetically this couple is fantastic. Betrayal, drama, jealousy, and forbidden love. There's a reason why blue and red are often paired together. PRIME COLOURS, BABY. That's what the kids call colour theory 😎. ANWAY, this is the Angelica Schuyler (work, work) and Alexander Hamilton (lol, you defiantly threw away your shot) ship of the Black Butler community. Even the name Angelina looks and sounds similar to Angelica. They are a bisexual dream of "may I have a side of step on me" 👞👡. They would have been that couple. Yet, I gotta rate them at number five because even though they would be slaying it together (literally and figuratively *very clever jack the ripper and watchdog joke*🔪), it does reduce the intelligent and independent Madam Red into an "uwu notice me sempai" girl. She gets turned from girl boss (affectionate) into girl boss (unaffectionate). Like GURL, I know he is bad, but you are a Miranda in a world full of Nates. The Devil wears Prada because he has taste👠. He's not worth trying to stab an eye-patched child over.
7/10 - if I was Angelina, I would have poured red wine over Rachel's wedding dress because I'm petty like that👰🍷.
4. Mey-Rin & Ronald Knox
I KNOW WHAT YOU ALL ARE THINKING🧠. That's right, I'm telepathic AF. Call me Anya 2.0. "Didn't they only interact once?" Yes, and your point? I could sense the chemistry and potential oozing like a warhead from that singular interaction. When Mey-Rin said that was the first time she ever got hit on, I was shocked and appalled because that girl is a hot warrior queen 👑like some Victorian Hippolyta. If I was shot by Mey-Rin, I would thank her because that meant she noticed little ol' me. Ronald (lol nerd) may *technically* be a dead sociopathic playboy, but underneath all that, he is also a clumsy idiot with some pretty snazzy fighting skills like a certain maid ;)). They both rock the sexy geeky🤓 look, AND Mey-Rin deserves to be swept away by a man who understands the struggle of trying to impress your superior (and failing horribly) while cleaning out blood stains🩸. They are number four because I vaguely get some The Mister by E.L James vibes, which makes me break out in a cold sweat 😷🤢if I think about it for too long. Plus, they did only interact once. God, imagine having Grell as a mother-in-law.
7.5/10 - Call me captain because Imma go down with the ship like the Campania that brought these virgins together⚓.
3. Ciel & Sieglinde
Bubala, I want to get this out of the way before we proceed. I'm no Humbert Humbert. Miss me with that ❌Lolita❌ shit (although it's a fantastic book, shout out to my lad Nabokov). When I ship kids, it's in an "it would be cute in the future" way. I don't expect a thirteen-year-old and ten-year-old actually to date. Kapeesh? Anyway, this is also not a reflection of Elizabeth as a character. We can all agree that their relationship was doomed the minute Lizzy discovered that OCiel wasn't RCiel and proceeded to have one of the worst reactions possible™. She tried to kill Sebastian, ran away from home, and let a TEENAGER get arrested because she got Parent Trapped. Girl, you even knew he was innocent but go off sis🙄💅. You know, ✨everyday rich girl things✨. Sieglinde, our little green witch, adores Ciel for who is truly is, not the broken-down actor carrying around his brother's ghost. Our scientist saw OCeil at his lowest point and still came to respect him. She also was tricked by him but didn't try to get him arrested, so...🙄💅. I'm more of an On the grind 💪 appreciator than a girl boss, manipulate gaslight type. Gotta love a spider leg, girl.
Unlike Elizabeth, who has dealt with tragedy from a distance (and don't get me wrong, she hasn't had an easy ride. It's just more psychological/self-inflicted), Ciel and Sieglinde, these two pipsqueaks have been through hell and back but came out stronger. In short, they can relate to each other's pain more than others their age. Plus, she's super adorable and a genius who can keep up (and outsmart) Ciel and is unafraid to be herself. They might not win in a leg race, but they will destroy you on a chessboard♟️. The best girl in town deserves the worst boy in London 😈.
8/10- Don't witches 🧙♀️ love the devil or whatever? Hocus Pocus girl and contract boy can fangirl over the same demon together. Fandom goals
2. Diedrich & Vincent
Ah, Hello again, Vincent. You have shown up on this list more than the actual Manga. Anyway, WHEN I SAW THE PANEL, THE ONE WITH "THE DAYS SPENT WITH YOU ARE BURNED INTO A MEMORY," I WANTED TO CRY. OMFG. I LOVE IT SO MUCH 😭😭😭😭💖💖💖💖. They look so sweet together there🥺. I'm a bitch for dark English academia shit because I am basic AF. Like, don't come at me. I know dark academia has a somewhat problematic history, but Imma keep shoving it down my throat like how Diedrich shoves down those sandwiches😏. The relationship between Vincent and Diedrich is so angsty that I need some rain boots because it's pouring tears out here. Even years after Vincent dies, Diedrich remains loyal to him and tries to save his child (in his "I hate you but I serectly love you" way).
Now I can hear you exclaim, "well, Vincent basically enslaved German boy as his brother-servent thing," but let me tell you, if he wanted out, he could have just stayed in Germany, but that Guten Tag man kept visiting that fine British ass until the day that fine Britsh ass was burnt to a crisp. Vincent was hot until the day he died🔥. Diedrich even keeps a picture of their time together and thinks of it fondly, despite Vicent treating him like a lapdog. THIS MAN DIDN'T EVEN GET MARRIED!!!! WAS IT BECAUSE HE WAS TOO BUSY WITH VINCENT🤔🤔🤔???? Probably not, but for my sake, I will say yes. If Lana Del Ray's music was a couple, it would be this one. They are at number two because as much I love them, there is one ship I adore a bit more. Plus, Vincent has so many side pieces that I don't trust him to stay in a monogamous relationship.
8.5/10 - I wish I knew WHY Vincent chose Rachel over these icons. Like girl, we have no beef, but I need to understand how you collared Vincent🐕🦺.
1. Sebastian & Agni
HAHAHA, YOU MUST OF ALL KNOWN MY (DE)MAN WOULD HAVE TO BE A PART OF MY NUMBER ONE PAIR!!!! Oooooh, the scene where Sebastian said that Agni was the first person to ever call him a friend👌👌👌. Sebastian's first friend. Think about that. The AMOUNT OF ADMIRATION they had for one another. This is Sebastian "lol, humans are bugs I like to burn with my magnifying glass" Michaelis, who respects nothing but himself (and cats). Yet, he believed Agni to be an "exemplary butler" who lived up to his ~asethics~ and Agni, the literal right hand of Kali, reached out (no pun instead) to a DEMON and saw something worth appreciating.
Sebastian even listened to his advice over Ciel's. His master and meal ticket. The guy he signed the bloody contract with. That's like if your lawyer turned to the opposition and said, "they make a fair point, and I agree my client is in the wrong." Like WHAT???? Seb values Agni's advice. A human. In Yana's own words, a species he views as nothing more than a cluster of pests. At best, they're amusing, like how a kid keeps an ant farm. Yet, Agni is different. Here the grasshopper has become the master🙇.
Their potential stepdad AUs were just up my ally. FOUND FAMILY ADMIRES UNITE! But I gotta admit, as much I love Soma, I would give him up for adoption if he was my kid. I can't deal with that level of extra. At the very least, he would go to theatre camp for the entire summer and boarding school, as is tradition for most rich British families. See, I'm not totally heartless😘! Talking about heartlessness, don't even get me started on Agni's death scene because I will ugly cry. When Sebastian dirtied himself with Agni's blood, even tho we all know that prissy bitch is more protective over his clothes than a runway model😔✊. That was the most upset we had ever seen him (outside of almost losing his son Ciel), and he seemed at least happy Agni died in peace. I doubt Sebastian can genuinely mourn, but now at least, he has double reason to hate Undertaker.
In Conclusion, I just think they are neat.
9.5/10- YASS KING, WHISPER YOUR DEMON SHIT WHILE HE PRAYS TO KALI!!! However, I can't give this a perfect score because one half is dead, and I do not support necrophilia💀. I hope we get Ciel and Sebastian explaining to Soma that they did not kill his daddy and, in fact, were planning a family vacay🏖️. I swear to god, if they have Soma work with RCiel, Imma flip my lid like a fucking kettle. Overall, they would have been couple goals💏.
#LONG POST BITCHES#Black butler ships#🛳️🛳️🛳️#kuroshitsuji#black butler#text post#sebastian michaelis#ciel phantomhive#elizabeth midford#mey rin#agni#agniseb#vincent phantomhive#madam red
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Ok. I’m still recovering from BAT’s awesomeness in the no ticket live show and I can’t bring myself to write down what I had in mind for Day 3 of Hitoya Amaguni’s Week 2022 since it was full of sad emotions. I will try to write it before his birthday, but in the meantime… I don’t like the ending that much, to be honest.
The previous entries can be found here!
Day 4 - Nya Ni Nyu Nye Nyon
Hitoya had just left his bike in the private parking of his condo, when he noticed a big cardboard box near the entrance. It was pouring and he just wanted to go back home, have a shower and start his well deserved summer vacation in peace; however a weird sound coming from the carton made him stop on his tracks. Maybe he had just misheard that, but it was better just to check it out.
There were two things he hated. The first was people leaving random junk in front of his apartment complex.
He opened the box with extreme caution and he was met with the sight of five small fluffy kittens.
The second was assholes abandoning pet animals in need.
Hitoya sighed. He knew he would probably regret it in the future, but he took the box anyway (making the small felines cry a little) and went up to his apartment. The first thing he did after settling the box in his living room was take a picture of the kittens and send it to the groupchat of Bad Ass Temple. Hopefully Kuko and Jyushi would be able to help find them a proper home while he’d search for the bastard that had abandoned those creatures.
Jyushi was the first to reply with a few messages full of those strange kaomojis he liked to use. He compared the kittens to Sanrio characters and ended up complaining about how he wouldn’t be able to adopt even one since his roommates were both allergic.
Maybe Kuko-san can keep them at the temple?, the visual kei singer suggested (adding ⊹⋛⋋( ●´⌓`●)⋌⋚⊹, whatever it might mean).
Hitoya let out another sigh and sunk a little into the leather sofa. He closed his eyes. What a way to start his holidays. The kittens were still meowing, but they had calmed down as soon as they realized they were not under the rain anymore. They became a little noisier when Hitoya’s phone rang.
“Shitty lawyer.” Kuko was on the other end of the call.
“Don’t call me that.” Hitoya scolded him and reached out to pet one of the little cats. It was the only one with dark fur in the group.
“My old man prohibited me from bringing more cats to the temple.” Straight to the point. Typical of Kuko. “But they are still young cats. It’ll be easier to find them a new home.”
“I don’t have the time to…”
“Leave it to me. I think a lot of families that come to the temple would be happy to have a small kitten in their life.” He chuckled. “Try not to get too attached to them in the meantime!”
The call ended and Hitoya snorted. As if that could be a possibility!
That same evening, Jyushi had come to help him. Knowing that Hitoya didn’t probably have milk at home, he had brought plenty with other useful products. He occupied himself with the task of washing the kittens and gave the lawyer time to ask the neighbors if they had seen anyone suspicious that day. Nobody saw anything. Hitoya made a formal request to check the security cameras footage but he knew that would have to wait a few days.
A week passed; then another; then a month. Hitoya got used to the little guests in his apartment faster than expected. They were… good cats. Small, needy but also quiet. Except for a single unfortunate accident with Kyon (also nicknamed Kuko 2.0) and the leather sofa, they all started to use the many scratching posts Hitoya had bought. After the first week they chose to sleep in the lawyer’s bed instead of their designated spots. It was scary to wake up with five pairs of eyes watching him, but Hitoya had to admit it was forgettable compared to the nice feeling he got whenever the cats welcomed him back home every evening.
Kuko had found many families that were interested in adopting them, but every time Hitoya had found many excuses to delay the relocation of the cats. At some point, the monk just asked, “Are you sure you still want to give them away?” and the lawyer had found himself shaking his head.
The truth was… they were a nice addition to his life and he was sure the cats couldn’t ask for a better owner. He had enough money to pay for their regular visits to the vet, to change ruined furniture, to have a cleaning lady, to hire a cat sitter whenever he was away for work for too long… and to keep all of them together without separating them.
“You have more than enough love for all of them, Hitoya-san.” Jyushi had said once while adjusting Nye’s pink collar. “Destiny sent them to you because that’s what you needed.”
He had expected Kuko to make some kind of joke that time, but he had just nodded in a knowing way.
So, maybe they were right.
#hitoya's week#hitoya amaguni#jyushi aimono#kuko harai#bad ass temple#hypnosis mic#writing? in this economy?
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The First... Chapter 1: The First... Meeting
Pairings: Dylan Lenivy/Ryan Erzahler
Chapter Word Count: 3,635
Status: Multi-Chapter - In Progress (1/?)
Summary:
“Look, I get it. It’s hot, and you wanna cool down, right? But as much as we like to have fun here, we have to realize the dangers, okay? You’d be surprised how easy it is to…”
Something moving on the other side of the fence catches Dylan’s eye — and attention. He turns his head towards it, seeing that—
Jesus Christ, that dude was gorgeous.
* * *
A continuation/sequel of my fic 'Truth or Dare 2.0', in the form of a collection of oneshots of 'First' moments in Ryan and Dylan's relationship, set after the events of 'The Quarry'.
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Author Notes:
Okay, okay, I know I said "set after the events of 'The Quarry' ", but I HAD to expand on the 'pool scene meeting' I mentioned in 'Truth or Dare 2.0', coz honestly it seemed like a crime not to. So... Prequel oneshot first lol.
* * *
Goddamn summer.
It's only just begun and he's already done with it. It wasn't even this hot yesterday, Dylan's sure of it. But apparently, now the sun is deciding to be a massive dick and do its best to make everyone melt on the first day of camp. It's hard enough keeping track of a bunch of over-excited kids making their arrival to camp; adding unbearable levels of heat to the mix is just a recipe for disaster.
Not even the shade of the trees overhead was doing much to cool him down as he made his way down the path, the uphill climb towards the cabins only worsening the amount of sweat pouring out of him. On the bright side, he wasn't yet leading all the kids toward their five-star accommodations. Nope, it was just him, the box of stuff Mr. H asked him to store in the radio hut, and what he's pretty sure is about seventy-five percent of his body's water leaking onto the ground as he goes.
" 'Oh hey, can you go trek out in ninety-degree heat to a cabin with no air conditioning to store some old and rusting tools while we stay in the nice cool lodge?' " Dylan readjusted his sweaty grip on the box before it could potentially slip out of his hands. At this rate, all his sweat is gonna turn the cardboard into mush… " 'Oh sure, no problem! I'm sure, uh… uh—'" Dammit, what was her name? She told him literally five minutes ago, something like… "Kaitlyn! 'I'm sure Kaitlyn will LOVE testing out her first-aid abilities when you find me passed out, face down in this stupid box…'"
Dylan peeks into the contents of the box as he walked. Every year Mr. H wanted to store more and more stuff in the radio hut… It won't be long before it becomes a storage hut with a radio, instead of a radio hut with a bunch of crap lying about. Well… not crap, he knows all that stuff has got its uses, but still. What use does the owner of a summer camp have for a chainsaw, anyway? He's fairly certain that chopping down trees wasn't one of the activities offered on the curriculum this year…
Dylan crests the top of the hill (Thank Jesus—), trying his best to pretend he wasn't out of breath despite the fact that no one was around to judge him. He crosses over the small bridge, glancing right towards the direction of the radio hut, and that's when he hears it.
Yup… That was definitely the delighted 'we're doing something we shouldn't be' laughter of children. Man, he's glad it's daytime, because that sound in the middle of the night when it's pitch black would either have him swinging his fists wildly or screaming. Perhaps even both. At the same time, most likely. Not that he encourages violence against children, of course. But… y'know. Self-preservation and all that.
The laughter was coming from right up ahead, along with the subtle sounds of splashing water. Dylan peers closer at the pool house, looking past the fencing wrapped around the pool, and... yep, suspicion confirmed. He could just make out a few heads bobbing about in the water, making some attempt to stay quiet, but failing miserably as they giggle unabashedly and splash water at one another. Dylan sighed, dropping the box down next to the bridge with a groan. Alright, time to be a responsible counselor he guessed…
Even if he thought the kids had the right idea on how to beat this heat…
…And the non-responsible part of him — which was a lot of him — wanted to jump in that pool, too…
He had hoped that stepping into the pool house would provide some cooling relief, but nope — the building was practically an oven. Dylan caught the curse on the tip of his tongue as the door softly shut behind him, reminding himself that there were kids with keen ears just on the other side. He headed straight towards the towels, grabbing a stack of them before heading back out towards the pool.
The kids still hadn't noticed him, even as he approached the fencing, too wrapped up in… being kids, having fun in the water. He knew this was a hundred percent something he'd do as a camper if it was ever this hot, but unfortunately, he's not a camper anymore. Now he's gotta do some boring adult shit and make sure Chris's summer camp doesn't go out of business day one into the season because he let a bunch of kids drown.
He ducks through the hole in the fence that Chris swore he would get patched soon, and still the kids don't notice him. He puts the towels down on the bench attached to the side of the pool house, leaning his shoulder against the brick wall, arms loosely folded and leg crossed over the other as he waits for them to become aware of his presence. "Having fun?"
As expected, the kids squeal at the sound of his voice, panicked at being caught. He chuckles at the response, which seems to put the kids at ease a little bit. "You know, if you wanna try and sneak away to do stuff you're not supposed to, you really gotta get better at the whole 'keeping an eye out thing'."
"Sorry, Mr. Dylan…" One of the kids mumbles, all of them wearing matching expressions of guilt as they paddle in place.
"Ugh, no 'Mr', just Dylan," Dylan tells them, his exaggerated scrunched-up face of disgust getting a few giggles from some of the kids. He pushes himself off the wall, leisurely strolling up to the poolside where the kids were closest. "Look, I get it. It's hot, and you wanna cool down, right? But as much as we like to have fun here, we have to realize the dangers, okay? You'd be surprised how easy it is to…"
Something moving on the other side of the fence catches Dylan's eye — and attention. He turns his head towards it, seeing that—
Jesus Christ, that dude was gorgeous.
Seriously, it was unfair how attractive this guy was. He didn't even know who the hell he was; he'd definitely have remembered seeing him in orientation. Or speaking to him. God, he wondered if his voice sounded as good as he looked… That might just kill him.
Dylan could just about see he had a pair of earphones in his ears, connected to what he didn't know since Chris had already taken away their phones this morning. Then again, if the guy wasn't at orientation, maybe he didn't get a chance to. He was walking along like the heat wasn't bothering him in the slightest, nor the heavy weight of what looked to be way too many life jackets he was balancing in his arms. The only indicator that the heat of the day was affecting him was by the sheen of sweat coating his skin, and dammit, he even made that look good! Now that was just unfair. No one should look good covered in sweat, but here was this guy walking around looking like an oiled-up Greek God or something—
Dylan's next step meets air instead of the floor, which is a little confusing, to say the least. But then it very quickly meets water after, and the reality of how much of a big fucking idiot he is sinks in at the same time his entire body sinks to the bottom of the pool.
Whelp… This was embarrassing. There's no way the kids didn't see that, given that they had been watching him the entire walk over to the poolside. Probably meant they had seen him gaping at 'Mr. Unreasonably Hot' too before his dumb-ass tumbled over into the water. He could only hope that 'Mr. Unreasonably Hot' didn't see him falling in, too. Maybe he should stay down here and drown to save himself from the coming shame. It wasn't exactly like he could figure out a way to joke out of this situation—
Wait.
Maybe there was.
You know what, scratch his previous statements. He's not an idiot.
He's a genius.
Dylan kicks off the bottom of the pool, breaching the surface with a dramatic gasp for air, making exaggerated movements as he smacks at the water around him. "Oh no! What a fool I am! And with no lifeguard to help me?! Whatever will I do!"
The kids burst into a fit of giggles at his acting, watching with rapt attention as he 'struggles' over to the side of the pool. "If only I hadn't entered the pool by myself! If only I had made sure there was someone responsible for my safety watching over me! Now I must sit with the consequences of my actions, and face almost certain death! Oh, woe is me, left to drown when there's so much life ahead of—"
The sound of footsteps pounding toward them stops Dylan mid monologue, turning himself around to see who was coming. To his surprise — and yep, there was that embarrassment — it seemed that Mr. Unreasonably Hot had indeed noticed him falling in the pool. He wasn't entirely sure how given he had earphones in. Then again, he was giving his little lesson to the kids at a fairly loud volume. Along with all that splashing…
Yeah, okay, he would have had to be pretty oblivious not to notice.
The guy was racing towards him, life jackets discarded to the ground as he leaps through the hole in the fence, getting to what he perceived as an actual emergency as quick as he possibly could. It was… kind of touching actually that this guy who has no idea who he is was outright sprinting to his aid.
"Holy—" The guy skids to a stop at the edge of the pool, stopping himself from swearing just in time, and dammit, his voice did sound as good as he looked! "I heard- You just fell in, and-" The guy stumbles over his words, slightly out of breath from the impromptu run. "Are you okay?"
Dylan smiles up at his concerned face, easily swimming in place. "All good, man. Was just teaching these little rebels here about the dangers of swimming unattended."
The guy glances over to where the kids were still huddled together, some of the concern they were feeling about being in trouble returning now there were two counselors here. "Oh, you were…" The guy sighs, running a hand across his face. "Jesus, I thought you were drowning…"
"Sorry… Didn't mean to scare you," Dylan apologizes. The guy can only shake his head, another soft sigh kicking out of him. He bends down, anchoring himself in place and holding out a hand to Dylan. Dylan grabs hold, making sure to lean most of his weight into the side of the pool as the guy pulls him up, not wanting to be the asshole that drags the person trying to help into the pool with you.
"Alright, come on—" The guy calls to the kids still in the pool, hand still clasped with Dylan's as he gets to his feet. "Aren't you guys supposed to be back in the lodge for orientation?"
'Could say the same for you' Dylan thinks.
"Yeah…" The kids don't exactly hide their feelings on the matter, looking rather miserable as they make their way to the ladder of the pool. The guy finally (by which Dylan means regrettably) drops Dylan's hand, having spotted the towels Dylan had got for them. He heads over to them, grabbing the entire stack and handing them out to the kids as they unenthusiastically skulk over to him.
"Let me guess, you guys were already friends before you got here, huh?" Dylan asks.
"Uh-huh," one of the kid's answers, voice muffled by the towel he had thrown over his entire body, pulling off a very convincing ghost costume.
"Thought so. And yeah, I know, you just wanna get to camp and have fun with your friends, right? But the fun part about camp is making friends! Okay? All those other little dudes back at the lodge right now aren't just gonna be your fellow campers, but future friends you don't even know about yet. How cool is that!"
"But… it's hot," one of the kids whines.
"Yeah… Okay, yeah, it's hot," Dylan concedes. "But—"
"There'll be plenty of time to go swimming throughout summer." The guy jumps in. "Believe me, I used to come here as a camper all the time. In fact, you'll even get to go out to the lake, too."
That seemed to do the trick, the kid's disappointed faces lighting up with excitement. "We will?!"
"Yup. It's literally my job — to take you guys out sailing."
"See? Plenty of cool and refreshing fun to be had, and with a bunch of new friends you'll get to meet once you get back to the lodge!" Dylan adds, keeping his voice as upbeat and overly-enthusiastic as possible. "Now, get in that pool house and go change before I actually drown you."
Thankfully, the kids laugh at his fake threat, shrill and over-excited voices trailing off as their feet pitter-patter over to the door of the pool house. The two of them watch as the kids go, making sure they all filed into the pool house. They both look back at each other at the same time, and — oops, Dylan didn't realize they were standing that close together. He awkwardly clears his throat, taking a little step back to get out of the poor dude's personal space. "So, uh… You're the sailing instructor?"
"Yep," Mr. Unreasonably Hot - No, Mr. Sailing Instructor - wait, he's sure he saw the guy's name in the information booklet Chris sent out.
"Yeah, uh… You're Ryan, right?" Dylan holds out a hand for a handshake, and oh God, please let him have guessed right, please—
"Correct again," Ryan says with a hint of a smile, grabbing hold of Dylan's hand once again and giving it a shake. "Should I be concerned you knew my name without me telling you…?"
"Maybe," Dylan replies with a sinister smile. "You're very easy to stalk with those earphones in."
The handshake goes still. "Uh…"
"I'm just kidding," Dylan assures him, letting go of Ryan's hand. "Your name was in the booklet thingy Mr.H gave us, remember? 'Ryan the Sailing Instructor'."
"Oh, right. I, uh… I don't know what you do other than apparently nearly drowning yourself to… teach kids a lesson?"
Dylan snorts. "Nah, that's just my side hustle, y'know? All part of the counselor experience, I guess… I'm in charge of that beauty over there—" Dylan gestures with his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the radio hut.
"The… radio…?" Ryan guesses, confusion briefly written across his face before brightening with his realization. "Oh! I guess that makes you Dylan."
"Ding, ding ding!" Dylan places a hand on his chest. "Meet DJ Dylan: The sultry voice you'll be waking up to every morning."
"Right, right, the- uh… radio announcements and all that. That's your role, then?"
"Sure is. Along with a bunch of other stuff I'm sure, since two of the counselors didn't show up…"
"Yeah, that's… Not great." Ryan pauses, looking Dylan up and down — particularly at the way he was still dripping. "Uh, do you want me to like… get you a towel…?"
"Nah, it's cool," Dylan waves him off. "Literally. You have no idea how much cooler I am now. I'll just drip dry." Dylan follows this by shaking his drenched mop of hair side to side. Ryan tries to turn away to avoid the spray of droplets that come from it, but his efforts prove fruitless.
"Dude…" Ryan protests weakly, arms stretched out to the side as he looks down at his water-speckled shirt.
"Oh, shoot…" Dylan says, tone not at all apologetic. "I'd say I'm sorry, but technically you should be thanking me for cooling you off."
"I'd… rather cool off in a way that doesn't make me smell like chlorine. But… thanks?"
"You are more than welcome," Dylan says, dipping his head in a mini bow. "So, uh… How come I didn't see you in orientation?" Dylan places his hands on his hips, his ask getting a questioning eyebrow raise from Ryan. "Or… didn't meet you, at least."
"Oh, no, I was - um…" Ryan trails off, gesturing with a thumb behind his back as he glances back in the direction of the lodge. "I wasn't at orientation."
"Oh. Cool, that… answers my question. Very informative, thank you, Ryan."
Ryan huffs, glancing away to hide the subtle smile on his face. "Yeah, uh… I needed to talk to Mr. H before the kids arrived, and he sent me out to go fetch some of the life jackets he left stored in one of the cabins last year, so…"
"So… you were skipping orientation?"
"No—"
"But you weren't there?"
"Well, yeah, but…" Ryan sighs, readying himself for this explanation. "Sometimes meeting so many people at once is kind of… overwhelming? It's not that I don't want to meet you guys, but… I'd prefer to do it in my own time. Y'know… gradually."
"Hey, I get it," Dylan holds his hands up. "Honestly, I think you had the better idea. Meet your co-workers one by one… Maybe rescue one from drowning in the pool…?"
Ryan snorts, looking as surprised at his own snort as Dylan was to hear it. He coughs to cover it, hiding behind his clenched fist. "Uh, yeah… I mean, I'll definitely remember you after this."
"If anything, I am a memorable person," Dylan gloats. "And I'm sure I'll remember the guy who came to my rescue."
"Hard to forget, I'm sure," Ryan played along. His eyes slid over to the pool house, a little unsettled by the uncharacteristic silence from the kids inside. "We should probably…" Ryan flops his hand up to point towards the pool house. "Get them ready to head back to the lodge."
"Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Doubt they know how to get back by themselves on the first day…" Dylan agrees, the two of them beginning a slow walk towards the front of the pool house. Hopefully, Ryan won't have noticed the way his voice had lost some of its brightness, perhaps a little disappointed that their conversation was coming to an end. Dylan looks over to the bridge where he had left his box, chewing thoughtfully on his lip. "Hey, uh… Any idea where I can quickly store a box full of rusty tools and a chainsaw where the kids won't get their hands on it? Probably wouldn't be too responsible of me to leave it laying about while I get the kids back."
"Uh… No. But don't worry, man, I'll… I'll get the kids back to the lodge," Ryan offers, both of them coming to a stop just outside the doors of the pool house.
Dylan's brow shoots up at the offer. "You sure?"
"Yeah, it's cool. I was headed down towards the lake anyway, so I can drop off the kids at the lodge on the way back."
Dylan smiles brightly at Ryan, his smile seemingly proving to be infectious as he gets the first real pull of a smile at Ryan's lips that he's seen — and not attempted to hide. "Sweet! Man, first coming to my rescue and now offering to take a bunch of rebellious kids off my hand?" Dylan walks back as he speaks, holding a hand over his chest for dramatic effect. "Man after my own heart, Ryan."
Ryan hums in a way of both acknowledgment and also in a way that sounded a lot like 'ha, ha, real funny', watching Dylan and his unwavering grin as he goes. Dylan quickly snatches up the box from the ground, turning back to Ryan. "I'll be seeing you around, Ryan," he says, balancing the box in one hand whilst giving Ryan a mock salute, heading back down the path in the direction of the radio hut.
"Just… Maybe not drowning next time?" Ryan calls after him as he goes.
Dylan spins around to face Ryan, teeth gleaming in the sun as he all but skips backward. "Hmm, I dunno… Maybe I'll go for a 'dangerous' swim in the lake… Have our camp's sexy sailing instructor come save me again." Dylan throws in a wink for good measure, turning back around to face where he was walking before he could get a chance to see Ryan's reaction.
The kids apparently had terrible timing and had exited the pool house just in time to hear that last comment. If Ryan said anything in response, Dylan wasn't able to hear it over the chorus of enthusiastic, "Oooooo's!" of the kids, quickly followed by a chorus of, "Mr. Dylan and Mr. Ryan, sitting in a tree! K - I - S - S—"
"Alright, alright, knock it off…" Ryan's grumble in response only gets more laughter from the kids. Dylan could just about hold in his own laughter at the response, not able to see the way Ryan's eyes followed him the whole way up to the radio hut.
It was only once the door of the hut had swung shut behind him and he had carefully put the box down that he glanced out of the window back in the direction of the pool house. He couldn't help but smile softly to himself at the sight of poor Ryan trying his best to pick the life jackets back up whilst a group of children flock around him, all vying for his attention.
Two whole months of summer camp, huh?
Maybe this would be more fun than he thought…
#dylan/ryan#ryan x dylan#drylan#radioheads#dylan x ryan#The Quarry#the quarry game#dylan lenivy#ryan erzahler#fluff#fluff and humor#occasional angst#basically a timeline of their relationship
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Rip, Alt_Fives.
#tcw#the clone wars#arc trooper fives#Marshal Commander Cody#clone captain rex#clone commander cody#star wars#tcw fives#tcw cody#tcw rex#biscuitart#pour one out for my man fives 2.0#he died as he lived#making a dick joke in front of his CO
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Floating Through Space - Harry Styles
a/n: im literally bursting from excitement over this, i’ve been working on this fic for so long and im pretty satisfied with how it turned out so i hope you’ll like it too! pleas please PLEASE don’t let this flop bc it means a lot to me 🥺
the song featured in the fic is obviously an existing one, i linked it into the right place so you can listen to it and get the vibe of it, that song is what inspired the whole story so i recommend giving it a listen! leave your thoughts and reactions, i can’t wait to read what you thought about the fic!!
pairing: Harry x Famous!Reader
warning: drug use, smut and everything thats wrong with patriarchy lmao
word count: 25.7k
masterlist
This dressing room is no different than the other one thousand you’ve been to. The plaster on the wall is all cracked up, the red bricks peeking from under it in the corner, the dusty couch looks like it’s been through hell and just sitting on it would probably give you STDs. The mirror on the wall is cracked, the few water bottles you’ve gotten are not even cooled, they’re a warm room temperature. The glorious life of a musician, right?
Moments like this you question why you didn’t just choose to be the obedient daughter and became a surgeon like your parents always wanted you to be. You’d have a steady future and a nice income, a decent career instead of having to perform at a different bar every other night for nicks and pennies that barely cover your rent at the end of the month. But that wouldn’t be you. Wearing scrubs, smiling at patients, throwing out your dignity along with your dreams, you wouldn’t have been true to yourself if you chose that life. Besides, you’d still be in school, barely nearing the halfpoint of your education if you decided to go along with your parents’ plan and it’s clearer than daylight that the school system is just not for you. It would be pure torture if you had to sit in classes for a decade just to work a job you never even wanted.
Looking around the small dressing room you cast your eyes over your band that consists of three people. It’s a temporary set up from three guys you met along your way, all of the struggling musicians as you and you saw the as opportunities. Places would rather have a band play with several men in it than just put one single woman on stage and pray for the best. It’s the sexist part of the industry not enough people talk about. You can’t even count how many pitying stares you’ve gotten through the years when you stated that you want to make a career as a solo female singer.
“Honey, you ain’t making it without at least one man behind you,” is what they’ve always told you. So you’ve gotten yourself three until you could stand on your own two feet without a male backup. You’re using them just as much as they are using you. They were already a band when you joined them, the lead singer just disappeared to thin air with her boyfriend and left them incomplete, so you joined forces to navigate your way together in the depth of the music industry, looking for that big jump everyone is dreaming about.
Standing in front of the cracked mirror you fix your eyeliner, checking yourself once again. Your thrifted checkered suit looks radiant on you especially with the neon green see-through top underneath, showing off a black bralette. It’s a male suit, hanging a little baggy on you at places, but you still feel like you’re pulling off the look. Your thick eyeliner makes your eyes appear even bigger than they already are and your hair is in an unruly mop of curls, making your appearance complete.
You’ve received tons of critiques over your outfits, but they are the only thing you are not changing on yourself.
“Don’t wear men’s pants.”
“You’d look better in a dress.”
“Why do you look like a guy?”
“What a shame to hide such a gorgeous body in clothes that weren’t meant for girls.”
Each and every comment is burned into your mind forever and you’ll never stop fighting against the judgment women has to face for not being the conventional beauty all females are expected to be.
There’s a knock on the door and the person behind it barges in without waiting for an answer. The tall, bald guy rushes in, looking a little stressed, but that’s kind of the normal for the owner.
“I’m not sure how to say it, but… you are not performing tonight,” he simply states and your anger sets in faster than ever. You’ve had gigs get cancelled, but not minutes before going on stage. However, he is still not done with his little informative speech. “And your instruments need to be used by another band tonight.”
“What the fuck?” Trey, the drummer jumps to his feet. “No way I’m letting someone else play my drum set!”
“You’ll get half the money if you let it happen,” the owner answers.
“Wait, what band did you find minutes before start?” you ask in complete shock.
“There’s this group celebrating a birthday in the VIP section and some boy band is apparently with them. Birthday girl requested to have the stage for them.”
“And you’re just cancelling on us that easily?” you snap.
“Not that I have a choice. If I don’t do it they are leaving and I’m losing a big amount from the night. Sorry guys, but this is strictly business.”
“I can’t fucking believe this,” you laugh bitterly, staring up at the ceiling. This would have been a great chance for all of you, you’ve been trying to get a gig here for months, knowing that a lot of people from the industry fancies it, you might have caught someone’s eyes, but it’s definitely not happening now.
“Are you letting them use your stuff or not?” he urges, hands on his hips as he looks at the four of you impatiently.
“But what about our gig? We’ve been on the waiting list for months, when can we actually perform?”
“Uh, I don’t know. We’re pretty booked, maybe sometime in the summer?”
“Summer?” you gasp in disbelief. “It’s fucking February!”
“Are you lending them your stuff or not? I don’t have the time for your little tantrum!”
“Yeah, if we get the money they can use it,” Connor, the bass guitarist answers before you explode right then and there. The owner walks out with that, leaving the four of you behind, forgotten and humiliated.
“I can’t fucking believe it,” Trey groans, plopping down on the couch, covering his eyes with his tattooed arm.
“This is fucking bullshit,” you scoff under your breath, reaching for your bag to grab your pack of cigarettes you keep in it especially for cases like this, whenever you are about to go around and punch every living thing in the face in your reach.
Kicking the backdoor open you lean against the cold brick wall as you light the cigarette and start puffing vigorously, trying to get as much nicotine into your system as possible. You notice a group of guys standing near you in the alleyway, laughing on something, having a great time, oblivious to how hurt and angry you are feeling just a few feet away. You hear frictions of their conversation and it’s clear they are British judging from the accents that are hitting your ears. You finish your cigarette pretty fast and immediately reach for another one even though you know you shouldn’t have even smoked that first one, but you just can’t help it. It’s either the smoking or you’re going after the owner and kick him in the balls for being a bitch.
“Oi, can I ask for one?”
Glancing to the side you see that one of the guys has approached you, smiling at you warmly he nods towards the pack in your hands. Nodding you hold it out for him and he takes one. Before he could even ask for the lighter, you throw it at him and he catches it easily.
“Thanks,” he nods, holding the cigarette between his lips before lighting it and passing the lighter back to you.
“Lou, you really shouldn’t smoke,” you hear one of the others speak up as the rest of the group slowly joins you and the one you just helped out.
“S’fine, don’t act like me motha’,” he shrugs, taking a drag from the cigarette.
“At least not before we go on stage,” the blonde one shakes his head at his friend and your eyebrows shoot up.
“Oh, so you’re the band that’s gonna play?” you ask with a forced smile, already feeling your blood boiling. Who the fuck they are and why do they deserve to steal your gig?!
“We’re just playing a couple of songs,” another speaks up shrugging his shoulders. “No big deal.”
“Glad it’s no big deal to you, because it would have been to the band that was robbed from tonight because of you,” you spat at them, clearly surprising them with your harsh reply.
“I assume you are part of that band, right?” the on with the curly hair speaks up, his green eyes burning down at you.
“Nice job, Sherlock,” you groan, taking another drag from your cigarette.
“You could play with us,” he offers, the others nodding in agreement.
“I don’t need your pity,” you scowl at them. “Bringing me on stage to try to make yourselves look like the good guys is not necessary. I’m just fed up with people like you.” The truth is coming out of you easier than ever. All the years on injustice is seemingly erupting from you, pouring down on these five.
“People like us?” the dark haired one asks with a confused look.
“Yeah,” you nod with a bitter chuckle. “Five conventionally hot guys grouped together for a band, making every girl between the age of ten and thirty scream just by a wink. I don’t know where you came from, but I’m betting my head that you’ve had it easier than others.”
“It’s not nice to assume things when you don’t know anything about us,” Curly speaks up, tilting his head to the side.
“Oh, I’ve seen enough not to care about what’s nice and what’s not,” you chuckle shaking your head as you take another long puff from your cigarette and throw the butt to the ground, stepping on it. “Who are you even? Some Back Street Boys 2.0?” you ask, folding your arms on your chest, earning a heartfelt laugh from the blondie.
“I kinda like her,” he smirks around his friends. “We’re called One Direction, you haven’t heard of us?”
“Not even once,” you shake your head.
“That’s kinda humbling,” the one with the cigarette smiles. “We’re from the UK. I’m Louis, that’s Liam, Niall, Zayn and Harry.”
“I would say it’s nice to meet you, but it would be nicer if you guys didn’t just take my gig and lessen me with half my paycheck,” you smile at them sweetly before rolling your eyes.
“Wait, what? They’re not paying you because of us?” Liam asks.
“We only get half the money for lending you our instruments.”
“Let us pay the other half then,” Harry offers right away, but you just laugh at him.
“It’s not about the money, Prince Harry,” you smirk at him, tilting your head to the side. “It’s about justice. How is that air that you just waltz in here and take our time and chance? What if there’s a producer out there who would have liked our music and offered a record deal? What if someone would have taken a video of us performing, put it up to YouTube and it would have gone viral? I assume you never had to go through this phase where you have to beg for every minute on stage so you can at least earn enough money to pay rent. You don’t seem like the type of band who had to perform in smelly bars four times a week for a ridiculous amount of money.”
They stay silent and you know you were right.
“I’m not saying you had it easy, but I’m sure you have no idea what it could have been. And I’m fed up with men walking over others just to have what they want.”
“Look, it wasn’t our intention to ruin your gig. Have your set with your band and then we’ll play a few songs too after that,” Liam offers, but you shake your head.
“No, we weren’t supposed to be just your opening act and it’ll turn into that. So have a nice evening, enjoy your showtime, I’m out.”
Pushing yourself away from the wall you walk back into the building and grabbing your stuff from the dressing room you move out to the bar area, desperately needing a drink.
Sitting on the last stool at the bar you ask for straight tequila and two vodka shots knowing it’ll do the job for the evening and pulling your phone out of your bag, you open up Google. Searching the name One Direction you’re met with quite a few hits and you start scrolling through them, reading about the five boys you just had an encounter with. Just as you thought, they didn’t start off as a traditional band, having put together at a talent show just three years ago, getting such a major push so early in their career, they have no idea how struggling it is to make it in the industry. They surely had their fair share of ups and downs, but they will never know what it’s like to sweat blood and tears for your dream when everyone just wants to drag you down and tell you you’ll never make it.
The shots and half of the tequila is gone, your band joined you to at least get wasted as you watch the technicians set the stage for a band that’s not you, but gonna play with your stuff. Sitting on the stool you’re having a fairly good time thanks to the alcohol when you spot Harry making his way towards you in the crowd.
“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready backstage?” you ask with an eyeroll as he joins your little circle, the guys eyeing him curiously. Ignoring your comment he pulls out a piece of paper handing it to you. As you unfold it you almost want to throw it back at him.
“This is to make up for what you lost tonight,” he says nodding down at the check in your hands.
“I told you I don’t need your money,” you firmly answer, but Trey grabs the check from your hands.
“But I do!” he snorts. He is such a pig.
“Let us do at least this one thing for you. We really do feel bad for taking your time and the offer to come on stage with us still stands.”
“No thank you,” you shoot him a fake smile before downing the rest of your tequila, the drink burning down your throat. Looking back at Harry you keep your eye locked on him as he watches you intently. He is a good-looking guy, you have to give that to him, but the circumstances you’ve met under just made it impossible for you not to hate him for the privileges he is being handed every day while you fight your way through life.
Harry sighs in defeat nodding as he licks his lips. For a split second, guilt takes over you for the way you’ve been acting towards him and the other boys, but then you remember that you don’t even know him. For all you know, he can be a royal asshole with the face of an angel. You can’t let guilt chew you and spit you out, you have to keep your guards up.
“Alright. We really are sorry. I’ll… see you around,” he nods before turning around to walk away.
You watch them perform their biggest hits, the whole place going crazy over the impromptu One Direction concert they just got for basically free. The VIP area is going crazy over the boys and with each sang song, you feel yourself getting more and more hopeless about your future as a musician. Here you are on a Saturday night, robbed from a job you’ve worked hard for, watching five British boys take your place on the stage that’s supposed to be yours tonight. You catch Harry’s eyes quite often while he is on stage, he keeps glancing in your way, a hint of guilt glistening in his green irises as he sings their songs with perfect vocals. You can tell he feels bad for the situation and you didn’t make it any easier on him or any of the boys, but you’re not really one to beat around the bush. They deserved to know what others in the industry below them have to deal with every day. It’s not always as glamorous as people might think and you’re the living example of that.
You don’t stick around for long after the boys are done on stage, you help your bandmates pack their stuff and head home before Harry or any other members of One Direction can find you.
Walking past the news stand that’s on the corner of your street, you stop upon seeing your own face smiling back at you from the cover of People Magazine, the title catching your attention.
“Grammy nominee Y/N Y/L/N shares her secret to her one of a kind fashion style.”
Grabbing the magazine off the stand you pay for it and continue your way home, holding the copy to your chest with a warm feeling in your heart.
It’s been only a week since the nominations have come out, but it still feels like a dream. You didn’t just get nominated in the category of Best New Artist, but your album Hands of Power got nominated as Best Album and your biggest hit of last year, Sleepless is running for the title of Best song. Three nominations the first time earning a spot on the list. Not bad.
Just as you walk into your place, your phone buzzes, the ever so smiling face of your manager staring back at you from the screen.
“Hey!” you sing into the phone, holding it to your ear with your shoulder, taking off your boots as you walk further down the hallway.
“Are you home already?”
“Yes, just arrived.”
“Great, I’ll be there in ten,” she announces and ends the call. Chuckling you just shake your head, dropping the phone to the coffee table before you move to the bedroom and change into something more comfortable. The flared jeans looked fire on you today, but you rather wear something looser when you’re at home.
You barely have the time to start the water for a tea when Taylor storms through your door using her keys you’ve given her some time ago. She is wearing all white that looks fantastic with her almond skin tone, a knitted sweater tucked into a maxi skirt, paired with strappy heels, she is always so elegant and perfectly dressed for whatever occasion.
“I have knee-shaking news, girl!” she announces as she throws her purse to the couch before joining you in the kitchen.
“I’m going to be the next Bond girl?” you joke smiling to yourself as you get two mugs from the cupboard.
“Better than that!” she cheers. “You are going to perform at the Grammy’s, baby!” she screams throwing her hands into the air as your jaw drops to the floor.
“You’re not just kidding with me, right?!”
“I would never play such a dirty joke with you. It’s one hundred percent true, I had an hour long phone call with some bloke today and they want you.”
“Yes!” you scream in excitement, jumping up and down like a child that just got a pack of candy. “I’ll make the Grammy’s my bitch!” you cheer, making Taylor laugh.
“Alright, Miss Dominatrix. We still have a lot of things to discuss and there’s one more thing about the performance.”
“Oh God, is this the part where you say something that ruins it completely?” you sigh in defeat as you take the kettle and pour the water into the mugs, dropping a filter into each.
“I don’t think it ruins it,” she shakes her head, but you have a feeling you won’t like what she has to say. “They want it to be like a… joined performance. You’d start off with Sleepless, then it would kind of mesh into your partner’s song and they would end it with one of their own songs.”
“Okay, that doesn’t sound bad,” you nod.
“See?” she smiles warmly.
“Do we know who I’m going to perform with?”
“Harry Styles.”
You almost drop both mugs the moment the name is mentioned, but you manage to get them to the kitchen island and slip them to the counter, Taylor giving you a questioning look at your wide-eyed expression.
“Uh, I’m not sure that’s… gonna work,” you clear your throat.
“You’re not sure your duet with the biggest male artist can work? Why is that?”
Licking your lips you try to find the right words to say it, but you’re not even sure why you got so shocked over it. Probably because the last time you saw him, you were still nobody, playing gigs at no name bars and he took your spot on the stage with One Direction. It’s weird, but since you’ve finally made it in the industry, you haven’t crossed paths with him and this would be the first time you meet after seven years.
“I’m not sure if he remembers it, but we’ve met before.”
“You and Harry?”
“Yes. I was playing with The Gambits years ago, it was before I started putting out covers on my own. We were supposed to play at this bar but they cancelled on us, because One Direction was there that night and someone wanted them to play instead of us, so we lost the gig. I had a pretty… harsh conversation with him and the band, basically telling them that their pretty man privilege is what ruins the careers of talented women.”
“Oh Jesus, Y/N. Why haven’t I heard of this before?” Taylor sighs leaning on her elbows on the countertop.
“Not that it’s something that would just come up in a conversation,” you shrug. “And as I said, he might not even remember it. It was a long time ago.”
“I know you are all about your rebellious past, good for you, but sometimes you’re making my job really fucking hard,” she sighs, grabbing her phone, already typing a message to God knows who. “Starting beef with Harry Styles before you even made a name for yourself? Who does that?”
“It’s not beef!” you protest. “I just gave them my piece of mind.”
“We’ll see what he thinks about it. I have to make a few calls,” she announces before walking out, already on the phone with someone.
Sitting on a stool, staring into your mug you think back at the time you met him. It feels like a lifetime ago when you were fighting to stay afloat, trying to make through the days, barely hanging on a thread. You didn’t know that five years later you’d sign your first record deal as a solo artist and seven years from that night, you’d be a Grammy nominee. It was a long and challenging time for sure with way more downs than ups until you finally got on track and you’ll never forget where you came from. Not when even as an acknowledged artist, you still face judgment and hatred no matter what you do. Being a solo female singer sometimes feels like harder than being president of the country and there are just so many things that need to change in the world of music, you will never stop fighting for girls that are in the same shoe you once were.
Through the years you’ve followed the career of the boys, especially Harry’s. You read about Zayn’s parting, their so-called hiatus and how they all went solo soon after. Genre-wise Harry’s work is what stands the closest to you, and you’ve witnessed all the backlash he has faced during his time in the spotlight. The shaming for whatever women he chose to date, his choice to get into acting and the way he has been dressing. People just don’t seem to understand they can’t have control over any of these and they’ve tried to bring him down one too many times, but he has been thriving lately, anyone can see that.
Your mug empties out by the time Taylor returns, taking her previous stop at the kitchen island.
“Alright, I set up a meeting with Harry and his manager for tomorrow. They still haven’t decided on the performance and apparently, Harry would like to meet you before giving his answer.”
“Oh God, he remembers me,” you growl under your breath.
“Or maybe he doesn’t and just wants to meet the person he is supposed to perform with. We can never know. We’re meeting them at his manager’s office at eleven tomorrow.”
One night is enough to make you go crazy over such a small thing as meeting someone. It’s not like you are nervous to see him because of who he is, it’s more about knowing what he thinks about you after all these years, in case he remembers you. He saw you as a struggling artist at rock bottom and though your encounter didn’t last long and he didn’t know you on a deeper, personal level, you still fear that he remembers and thinks that you’ve lost yourself over the years.
Authenticity has been a huge issue in your life. Early in your career, everyone wanted to change you. The way you dress, your hair, the style of music you write, nothing was good enough as it was, they wanted you to become someone else, someone who was not you. You fought all attempts until the right person came through and accepted you as yourself, but a tiny voice in the back of your mind kept telling you that they succeeded, that somewhere along the fight you did lose yourself and became what you always feared to be.
Meeting Harry is like meeting a piece of your past and having to face what you’ve become. It’s going to be like a mirror right in front of you and what you’ll see might not be what you expect.
Wearing your bright red dungaree with an oversized vintage shirt and a pair of white sneakers, you definitely don’t look like you’re dressed for a business meeting, but when did you ever? Pushing your hair back with a pair of cat eye shades, you leave a little earlier, knowing well traffic is horrible in these hours. You arrive to the office building just minutes before eleven, Taylor has already texted that she has arrived and which office you should come to. When you finally find the door you’ve been looking for, you take a moment to yourself before knocking.
“Come in!” a male voice calls out and you walk in. Taylor is sitting on the sofa that’s pushed against the wall on the left, a man is sitting behind the enormous desk and then there is Harry, standing by the window, his hands hidden in the pockets of his black slacks, and old Rolling Stones t-shirt hanging loosely on his frame as his eyes meet yours upon your arrival.
“Hey, I would say I’m sorry for being late, but I’m actually exactly on time,” you smirk, closing the door behind you. The man stands from the desk and walking around he meets at the front, holding a hand out for you.
“Perfectly on time,” he smiles warmly. “I’m Jeffrey Azoff, nice to meet you.”
“Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you too.”
“And this here is Harry,” he motions towards the man who has stepped closer and as you look back at him, you’re met with a blank expression for a moment so you can’t figure out if he remembers you or not. But then, a tiny smile tugs on his lips as he holds his hand out for you.
“We’ve met before, right?” he simply questions, and your eyes flicker over to Taylor in a kind of “See? I told you!” manner before you look back at Harry and shake his hand.
“Yeah, we have,” you nod. “A long time ago.”
“Congrats for your nominations,” he smirks, his hand letting go of yours and your let out a soft chuckle.
“Well, thank you. Back at you.”
“Alright, why don’t we start this discussion? We have a lot to go over,” Jeff suggests and you sit beside Taylor while Harry stays near the window, as if he is trying to soak up the sunshine coming through it that’s painting his skin a golden shade.
The concept is simple. The performance would be a mashup from Sleepless and Harry’s song Golden with an exciting and fresh way of mixing the two songs together in the middle, making your song flow into his in a smooth and effortless way. The songs sound compatible and you already have an idea how to mash them together for the transition, but you can’t help but feel doubts over the performance.
“What are your concerns exactly?” Jeff questions.
“Not to come off too harsh, but why is my song the first one?” you ask, earning a few puzzled looks. “If Harry finishes it off, he is going to be the one people will remember more and he’ll get the applause as well. The riffs in the songs allow them to be switched, how come it’s not me who comes second?”
You can see the shock on Jeffrey’s face at how straight-forward you were about your concern and that you even dared to speak up about the issue. He clearly hasn’t had to face anything similar before and when he glances at Harry you follow his gaze as well, but instead of shock, what you see on his face is amusement. He is smirking, tapping his fingers against his chin as he stares back at you.
“She has a point,” he nods and you take a deep breath. For a moment, you really thought this is going to be the part where you are thrown off and Harry makes the performance only his.
“I, uhh—this is what’s been requested,” Jeff answers and you tilt your head.
“Okay, can we make a request to change it?” you simply ask, eyeing Taylor next to you who is typing on her iPad vigorously, taking notes of everything that’s said. She is already used to what you’re like, she is not even surprised you came up with the prompt to change.
“Hold on, so just because you want to be second, you get to be?” Harry questions, but he doesn’t come off as harsh, it seems like he is entertained by the conversation. “Does this mean I don’t deserve to be the second one?”
“That’s-That’s not what I meant,” you answer, taken aback from his accusation and you hate to admit, but he is right. You addressed the issue, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve the spot either.
“Alright, so then we need to seek a solution that benefits the both of us,” he offers, walking closer from the sunlight and you follow his every movement.
“We could do some kind of medley? Do an ultimate mashup from more songs and have more smaller parts split between us, finishing it together,” you suggest and he nods.
“That could work, but I have something else on my mind.”
“And what would that be?” Jeff asks, a little lost about the situation as he watches the two of you exchange ideas.
“We could write a song together, a duet, and perform that instead of our solo stuff.”
“What?” you snap right away. “You want to write a whole new song just for the Grammy’s?”
“Why not?” he smiles carefreely. “We have almost two entire months to do it, albums have been written in shorter periods, I’m sure we can handle just one song. And I think a collaboration would be a hit for the both of us now.”
You look at Taylor who just stares back at you, ignoring the panic in your eyes.
“Don’t look at me,” she tells you. “I can see the collaboration working, it could be a huge hit.”
“And what, we’re gonna release it as a single after the show? Whose song is it going to be? I don’t have an album coming up until next year, do you get to have it on your third one then?”
“We can put it out as just a single. No one has to have it on any albums,” Harry replies. “If we released it after the show, it would be just the right timing. Neither of us had any new songs out in a while.”
Clenching your jaw you’re trying to find a way out of this collaboration, though you’re not even sure yourself why. Taylor sees right through you, knowing well you’re planning your escape, but she has other plans apparently.
“Y/N, let’s have a few words outside,” she pushes herself up and pulls you with her. Once the door is shut behind the two of you she starts right away. “What the fuck is your problem? The song is a huge thing, it would be an instant hit with him on it!”
“Why do I need a song with him to stay relevant?” you question, folding your arms on your chest.
“No one said it’s about that. But we both know it would be a great push to your name that Jordan has stomped over not so long ago, calling you a Feminist Nazi.”
“Don’t even fucking mention him!” you whisper yell, refusing to even think about that trashbag of a man that ruined your life with his fake accusations.
“Look, I know what you are thinking, that you’ll be seen as just an object next to him, a pair of boobs and nice legs, but that’s not his brand. He doesn’t need you to be sexy next to him, he is known for his honest and real works that go farther than just twerking and being a hoe. We both know he produces meaningful music, so why are you so against it?”
“I just… I-I’m scared to work with him,” you finally admit and it’s the first thing today that surprises Taylor.
“Scared? Thought you’re not scared of anything,” she huffs.
“I never said that,” you give her a look. “Harry met me when I was nobody, it was just me and my big mouth, trying to find my breakout. What if we start working together and he sees that I completely lost that version of myself? I would feel like a liar, an impostor.”
“You are overreacting,” Taylor sighs. “You’ve changed on your way here, but I doubt you are that far from the girl he met before. I know we didn’t meet just a few years after, but I can assure you, you’re still that big-mouthed pain in the ass who fights every norm in the industry like no one else.”
You know she is right, she is always right. Taylor knows you too well, that’s why you love working with her, but sometimes, her honesty throws you way off, especially when she is stating the truth.
The two of you rejoin the two men in the office and they both look at you with anticipation as you fold your arms on your chest and move your gaze over to Harry.
“I would… love to work on a song with you.”
When you agreed to work with Harry you didn’t think you’d find yourself heading over to his house a few days later to have a writing session, but he offered right away that day in the office and Taylor accepted it before you could protest. You’ve had a day filled with meetings and fittings and now you’re rolling up his driveway after punching the security code in that he shared with you over text.
You’ve exchanged numbers on the spot and just like that, you’ve become one of the few people on this world that could contact Harry Styles anytime they want to.
You chose to be casual for the occasion, wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a white hoodie, you like to be comfortable whenever you’re working on new music and Harry’s presence won’t change your ways about that. You’re not sure what to expect, if you’re being honest you’re still afraid of being alone with Harry and do such an emotional thing together as writing a song.
The front door opens just as you get out of your car, grabbing your bag from the passenger seat. Harry walks out wearing a pair of shorts and a green hoodie, looking like he hasn’t left the house all day.
“Hey, you found the address easily?” he asks smiling as you walk up to him.
“Yeah, everything went fine.”
“Do you want something to drink or eat maybe?” he offers as the two of you walk inside. If you’re being honest, you’re starving, the last time you had anything to eat was between two meetings around ten, but nothing since then, just a granola bar. But you’re a first time guest, you can’t just eat up his fridge, like you’re old pals, right?
However, Harry can see right through you.
“You haven’t had anything in a long time, right?” he softly asks and you purse your lips, feeling awkward already and you haven’t been here for more than two minutes. “I can make you a sandwich, if you’d like.”
“Harry, no need, I—“
“No need, but I want to. Come on,” he nods at you, making you follow him into the kitchen. “So, who would have thought we would be here now, huh?” he smirks at you as he gathers the ingredients and starts working on your food while you sit on one of the stools at his kitchen island.
“Not me,” you admit chuckling. “I kind of didn’t think I would see you again, I mean, personally. I was seeing you a lot on TV after that.”
“Now might be a good time to confess that, that night wasn’t the last time I saw you.”
“What?”
“I went to one of your gigs a few weeks later. Stayed at the back, I just really wanted to see you play.”
“And what did you think?” you ask tilting your head to the side. Harry smirks, his eyes meeting yours before they return to the food under his hands.
“You absolutely smashed it. And I felt even worse for taking your time away that night. The people were robbed from a mind-blowing performance and had to see five annoying guys clown on the stage,” he laughs making you chuckle too. “I wasn’t surprised when your name surfaced a few years later. Knew you’d make it at one point.” He joins you at the island and slides the plate in front of you with a warm smile.
“Thank you,” you mumble smiling shyly before you start eating and only after the first bite you feel just how hungry you’ve been. “Now that we are at it, I want to apologize for the way I talked to you guys back then. I feel like I was a bigger asshole than I should have been and the whole situation wasn’t entirely your fault.”
“No need to apologize,” he shakes his head. “You were absolutely right. We had no business being on stage that night and what you said actually made us think about where we came from and appreciate our career more. You were right about having it easy at the beginning. We never had the phase where we had to push our way to the top like other artists, our first days were broadcasted on TV, giving us the biggest push ever.”
It’s good to hear he is not holding grudges against you for whatever went down in the past. You eat in silence while Harry types a response to a message on his phone before turning it with the screen down to pay his full attention to you.
“I actually just messaged Niall that we are working together and he is losing his shit over it,” he chuckles softly.
“You guys still talk?”
“Yeah, sometimes. Not all of us thought,” he adds, pressing his lips together.
“You miss being with the band?”
“It’s… good to rely on someone in certain situations. As a solo artist, you only have yourself and that’s about it. But I think you already know that.”
“I never really liked being in a band,” you admit.
“How come? I think you fit in well with The Gambits.”
You shrug, chewing on your bite slowly. It’s probably not the best time to admit that you prefer working on your own, when you’re about to get into a duet with him.
“I uhh… I always imagined myself being a solo artist and I just couldn’t stay with the guys too long, especially when I got my record deal.”
“Why?” Letting out a long breath you lick your lips looking at him.
“I would have never made it in a band with three guys. It would have always been about which one I’m sleeping with, who am I having an affair with or if I’m lesbian because I’m not hooking up with any of them. This is just how it goes for women.”
Harry stays quiet, taking your words in as you finish the sandwich that was literally lifesaving. You wash the plate even when he tells you to just leave it in the sink, and once that’s done, the two of you move over to his little home studio in the basement of his house.
“So, where do we start?” you ask, making yourself comfortable in one of the armchairs while he grabs an acoustic guitar and sits on the one next to you.
“How do you usually start writing?” he asks scratching his chin before he rests his hands on the body of the guitar.
“Well, most of the times I write when I’m pissed about something,” you huff and Harry smirks at you.
“Nothing pissed you off lately?”
“Not enough to make me write a song,” you point out. “See, this is one of the reasons why I was hesitant to write a song with you. It doesn’t come that easily for me.”
“And what were the other reasons?” You shut your mouth at his question, you weren’t expecting him to pick it up, but apparently, he listens more than you thought.
“It’s… a long story.”
“And we have all the time,” he smiles slyly. “But of course, don’t feel pressured to share. I just thought it would be nice to get to know each other more so we can work together easier.”
Harry starts strumming his guitar gently, playing random riffs as you watch him, chewing on your bottom lip. Taylor asked you to try and be more open than you usually are and though part of you wants to keep the wall high between you and him, something is telling you to try and reach out to him.
“I didn’t want to do it, because I didn’t want to be seen as just a pretty face next to you. In duets between a man and a woman, females are often seen as just an object, a sight for the eyes but not as serious artists. I worked hard to be taken seriously and I was hesitant about collaborating with you even though your music is not necessarily what I should fear.”
Harry looks back at you with an unreadable expression and you feel like he is judging you for standing up for yourself. Your fight for yourself is often mistaken as “being a bitch” or “being too sensitive” and the amount of times you’ve been told to just chill is upsetting.
“Well, good thing then that I won’t write music about twerking,” he then finally speaks up, a smile breaking his blank expression.
“But you do write a lot about sex,” you point out with a smirk.
“That I do, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be sexist at the same time.”
“You’re right,” you nod smiling.
The writing process turns out to be harder than you thought. You’re not specifically inspired and Harry is the person to just throw things around until he finds something he likes. The two of you put together is kind of chaotic as you try to come up with something useful.
Two hours later you have a raw version of a melody that could serve as a chorus, but nothing else, no full melody, no lyrics. And if you’re being honest, you don’t like that chorus that much either.
“It’ll be fun to just stand on stage for three minutes and do absolutely nothing, because we couldn’t write anything,” you groan, sliding lower in your seat, rubbing your face with your hands.
“It’s literally our first session and we have plenty of time, Y/N. Don’t stress about it.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“You don’t know how not to stress?”
“I literally haven’t had a stressfree day since about 2007, so no, I don’t know.”
“You can’t chill even when you smoke?” he asks and you give him a puzzled look. “What, you smoke, don’t you?”
“Cigarettes? I put it down in 2015.”
“No, I’m not talking about cigarettes,” Harry chuckles softly. “You don’t smoke weed?” You shyly shake your head. “Really? I would have sworn you’re the type to relax with a good joint. Want to try it?”
“What? Now?” you ask with wide eyes.
“Why not?” he shrugs and walks over to the little side table in the corner of the room and reaching into it he simply pulls a little plastic bag out with three joints in them.
“Are you just casually keeping joints around your house?”
“I don’t really smoke them, they make me feel sleepy. But some of my friends like it so I keep a few around,” he explains as he takes one out and puts the rest back. “You want to try?”
“I-I’m not sure… I have to drive back home.”
“You can stay for the night, I have three guest bedrooms,” he shrugs before his eyes meet yours. “Again, not trying to pressure you, I’m just offering.”
“Are you gonna smoke?”
“We can share one if you want. I would recommend smoking one by yourself for the first time.”
“Okay,” you nod shortly as you watch him tip-tap the joint a little, rolling it between his fingers before he takes it between his lips and reaches for a lighter. “Wait, shouldn’t we do it somewhere outside? The smoke is gonna get stuck in here.”
Harry stops, thinking about what you said and he nods. Grabbing the guitar he asks you to follow him and the two of you move up and out to the terrace, sinking into his lounge chairs. You bring your knees up to your chest, hugging them tightly as you watch Harry light the joint and take the first few puffs. As he exhales the smoke he holds the joint out for you and you take it, hesitantly putting it between your lips as you inhale for the first time. You can’t help but scowl at the taste, the whole act of smoking feeling strange after years of smoking your last cigarette. You keep it down a little before puffing the smoke out and passing the joint back to Harry.
You keep switching until you make it past half of it and you finally start to feel the effect of it. You feel light, like you’re floating in the pool that’s in front of you, you can almost feel the water touching your skin yet you’re still dry.
“How are you feeling?” Harry asks, blinking at you with hooded eyes.
“I’m feeling… fine,” you chuckle softly as you take the joint from him and drag from it again. “Do you do other drugs?”
“I’ve done shrooms a few times, not often though. I’m not trying to pick up an addiction,” he smiles softly, running a hand through his hair. “Have you done anything?”
“No,” you shake your head. “Didn’t have the money for it before and then didn’t have time later. But I never really felt the need either.”
“And you said you put down the cigarette as well?”
“Yeah. I knew I had to do that sooner or later, it was starting to change my voice and I couldn’t have that.”
“That’s what we always told Louis, that his voice will turn to shit if he keeps smoking,” Harry chuckles softly, dragging from the joint before he passes it over to you, not much left of it.
“Did he ever stop?”
“I think he put it down when his son was born, but I don’t know if he started again.”
You give the joint back for him to finish it and you watch him put it out in the ashtray before he sinks down in the lounge chair, closing his eye for a bit, breathing steadily. You find it amusing how you can still see the guy that handed you a check years ago at that bar, trying to make things right, but he also looks like a completely different person at the same time. He is more mature and open in his mindset and just the way he approaches things in general. The Harry you met seven years ago was still searching his way, but the version lying next to you now is a lot more confident in who he really is.
“Want to take a picture?” he hums keeping his eyes closed.
“What?”
His eyes peel open and turn to face you, a smug smirk on his lips.
“You’ve been staring at me. Take a picture, it lasts longer.”
“You are way too full of yourself,” you scoff and pushing yourself up from the lounge chair you walk over to the edge of the pool, mesmerized by the way the light is dancing on the surface.
You never really thought about what weed would feel like in your system, but it feels oddly tranquil and relaxing. In a way your body feels a little strange, like it’s not even yours, but you also sense everything very… loudly.
“You alright?” you hear Harry’s voice coming from behind, the tapping on his feet signaling that he is walking closer to you.
“Yeah,” you nod without taking your eyes off of the water.
“Do you want to go for a swim?”
“What?” you breathe out turning to face him.
“Do you want to go in?” he rephrases his question with a small smile.
“I don’t… have a bathing suit,” you answer and the moment the words leave your mouth they feel so ridiculous even when you were just stating the truth.
“Okay, but you are wearing underwear, aren’t you?” he smirks. “Or I’m completely fine if you want to go in naked,” he adds smugly.
“Shut up,” you chuckle. “Can you… maybe give me a pair of shorts? I’m fine without a bra when I come out but I would rather have my underwear on dry.”
“Sure,” he hums and turning around he jogs back into the house while you stay right there, staring at the water again.
With each passing moment you get calmer, the outside world and everything in life that’s not happening right in this moment eases into nothingness, your mind numbs in the best way possible.
When Harry returns he is wearing a pair of yellow swimming shorts, two towels are thrown over his shoulders and he has a pair of white shorts in his hands.
“This is the smallest thing I have, I think it’ll be fine,” he comments handing you the shorts.
“Thanks,” you nod before he shows you the way to the closest bathroom where you change out of your clothes leaving them in a neatly folded pile on the counter, you put on the shorts that are a little big on you, but once you’ve tied the strings it seems to be staying up steadily. Your simple black bra is not showing more than what a bikini top would, so you feel fine walking out in your attire.
Harry is sitting at the edge of the pool, his legs moving around in the water. His head lifts hearing your steps and he smiles at you, standing up when you arrive.
“Fits fine,” he nods, taking a look at the shorts.
“Yeah,” you chuckle.
Walking over to the steps you dip your feet in first, testing the temperature before you start going in further, Harry following you right behind. Just as you expected, the water feels smooth against your skin, warmly caressing and swallowing your body as you get in, the surface reaching your chest. You let your arms move around, feel how the water runs through your fingers, it’s amusing and you enjoy it probably more than you should. It’s just water, but right now it feels like a pile of clouds.
“I know I suggested to smoke and then swim, but please don’t drown into my pool, I won’t be able to talk myself out of that,” he chuckles, easing him into the water until it reaches his neck.
“My life is in your hands, Harry,” you smirk at him before you follow him and let the water swallow your whole body up to your neck. “This feels so nice.”
“Yeah? You like it?” he smirks.
“Mm, like I’m… floating through space.”
“In a sense, you are floating in the water,” he chuckles. “You don’t feel sick, right?”
“No, I’m fine,” you smile at him shortly.
You move over to the edge of the pool, laying your arms to the side, holding yourself up so your legs could float in the water. You watch Harry dive under and swim across the pool, reaching the far end before he pushes himself over to you.
“When I went to see you perform there was a song I really liked, but I never found it anywhere later.”
“Which one?”
“The chorus went like… Crashing and crumbling, I’m fighting for my breath, Today won’t be the day I’m meeting death…”
You suck on your breath, surprised how well he remembered the lines even after so many years. He recalled them perfectly, even singing the melody a little with them.
“I never recorded it in studio,” you admit quietly.
“Why not?”
“Because it felt too emotional and I didn’t want it to be just out there.”
“What was the name of the song?”
“It’s called Till I Die. I wrote it when…” You take a deep breath, feeling heavy just by talking about it, but something is urging you to share it with him. “I left from home right after I graduated high school, broke contact with my parents completely and I had a few very rough years, trying to just… keep myself alive, I guess.”
“Can I ask why you left your parents?”
“We had very different visions of what I should become. And I didn’t intend to live the life they imagined for me. My parents are very… traditional, my career in their eyes is just some kind of circus when I’m the clown on the stage. They don’t take any of it seriously and they made it very clear at the beginning that they don’t want me to become a musician. I was supposed to become a surgeon, my dad is one and my mom is in criminal law, they both worked very hard to get to where they are, but they don’t think that’s exactly what I’m doing as well.”
The last person you shared it with was Taylor and though it feels odd to open up about these old wounds again, but having Harry as the one listening to you just feels right.
“You haven’t talked to them since you left?”
“No,” you shake your head.
“And they didn’t even try to contact you?”
“Well, I made sure they couldn't. Changed my number first thing I set my feet outside the house and I never left them any of my addresses. I know it sounds cruel, but I didn’t want to do anything with them after the shaming they put me through when I told them I don’t want to become their perfect little daughter. They told me that I could consider myself disowned from the family if I dare to even write a song.”
“Woah, that sounds really tough.”
“It was,” you nod. “I wasn’t asking them to support me in any other way apart from just being there for me. It’s not like I wanted to spend the money the put aside for my tuition to buy guitars and tour the country, I just wanted them to… accept who I am, but apparently, I asked for too much.”
You feel tears forming in your eyes, but you wipe them quickly. It’s been long since the last time you let the thought of your parents, you’ve been good at keeping these feelings bottled up and in the deepest end of your mind. It’s not like you’re going around and just share your trauma with anyone you meet, but it felt comfortable to share it with Harry.
“I’m sorry about that. Everyone should have a support, especially in our job.”
“I had… myself,” you chuckle bitterly. “Became pretty good at relying only on myself.”
“I’m guessing it’s another reason why you prefer working alone, right?” he smiles at you softly.
“You could say that,” you nod into the water.
“I know it’ll sound cheesy, but… if you ever want to talk, I’m here,” he offers.
“Oh, are we becoming friends?” you ask chuckling.
“We’ve known each other for long enough to be friends, am I right?” he smirks, splashing some water in your way.
“We met a long time ago, but that doesn’t mean we know each other. Everything I know about you is from articles and gossip sites and I think you can only say the same thing,” you point out.
“Okay, then let’s get to know each other.”
“What, do you want to play 21 questions now or something?” you huff.
“Damn right,” he smirks.
And that’s exactly what you do. Swimming around in the pool you ask each other questions, some are funny, some are more serious and you slowly start to get to know each other, seven years after meeting for the first time, but in a way it feels like it’s been just last week when you were talking in the alleyway.
The weed soon dies down in your system, leaving you incredibly tired and it’s only then you realize it’s already past one am. Pulling out of the pool, you both grab a towel drying yourselves up before making your way back into the house.
“The guest bedroom next to mine has a bathroom so I think that’s the best one. I can give you something to sleep in if you’d like,” Harry offers as you follow him down the hallway.
“I think I’m fine in my sweats, but thank you.” He shows you the room, tells you how to change the AC if you feel too cold or hot and then bidding goodbye he is about to go to his own room when you stop him.
“Thank you for… today. I know we didn’t get far with the song, but… I liked hanging out with you,” you admit with a shy smile, leaning against the doorframe.
“Don’t worry about the song, it’ll be fine. And I liked it too. We can make it a regular thing, if you want. You can come over, we’d chill and try to cook up something for the song.”
“I, uhh… Yeah, that sounds good,” you nod, he shoots you a smile before turning around and disappearing in his room.
The morning doesn’t turn out at all any awkward, especially because you don’t get to stay around too long. You have a meeting at eleven so you have to leave in time to go home and get changed before that. Harry makes you coffee, which is lifesaving, the two of you sit at the terrace as you drink it and you arrange to meet in two days to try and have another, hopefully more successful session for the song.
You genuinely enjoyed your time with Harry and to think that you didn’t only smoked weed for the first time with him, but also opened up about your parents, you feel a kind of connection forming and you can only hope you’re not gonna regret it later.
You move on with work after leaving from Harry’s that morning, you have some fittings for upcoming photoshoots and an interview scheduled, so there’s not much time for you to sit around. Tonight you’re supposed to meet Harry again at his place for another session and you feel buzzed about it. You meet Taylor for lunch, sitting on the terrace of your usual place she is talking you through everything that’s coming up the next week, just like you always do so then you can put work aside and have a real chat.
“So how did the writing session go?” she asks, digging into her salad that she always asks with extra chicken.
“The writing? Not so well. But we had a good time,” you truthfully admit.
“Good, good! You’re finally making friends!” Taylor grins, satisfied with the news. You just roll your eyes at her, turning back to your food right when you notice that your phone has been blowing up with notifications.
Huffing you grab it from the table with the pure intention of muting it down completely, but then you see that several people have texted you the same link and it bugs your curiosity so you open one of the messages and tap on the link.
“You have got to be kidding me,” you groan, feeling your rage already pushing up your spine, clouding your vision in red.
“What?” Taylor snaps, reaching for her phone out of reflex.
“That fucking asshole dragged my name again!”
“Who? Jordan? That fucker never learns?” Taylor hisses, her thumbs vigorously typing on the screen immediately.
“Someone asked him about me on Twitter and he dared to call me a lying bitch! I can’t fucking believe this man!”
You and Jordan worked together on a project a while ago. You were supposed to write lyrics to a song he was composing and it was meant for an upcoming popular Netflix show, so the anticipation around the song was huge, especially when word got out that Ariana Grande might end up singing it. During your time working together he very blatantly tried to hit on you, which you politely shut down, because one, you didn’t intend to date someone you were working so close with and two, you just simply weren’t into him. However, he couldn’t take rejection the way a mature, almost thirty years old man should. It started off very subtly, but once you’ve had a chat with him to stop posting obnoxious and suggesting things about you on his social media, because it’s making it hard for you to be taken seriously as an artist and that people will just see you as another celeb which you don’t want to be, he just completely lost his shit. He called you different names on Twitter a few times, the worst were Feminist Nazi and a cock teasing slut, and he just somehow never fails to mention that you lied about your intentions with him, when you were clearer than daylight that you didn’t want a thing from him other than work.
When you realized he isn’t going to be stopping anytime soon, you took him to court, dragged his ass in front of the judge and won the case, which ended with him having to pay you thirty thousand dollars and he was ordered to clear all his platforms from your name for good. You really thought that taught him a lesson, especially because against your will, the case got some publicity and he ended up making headlines about the fault accusations he made about you, but it seems like he didn’t have enough.
You wouldn’t worry that much about his new tweet, knowing that he is the one lying, but the trials took a toll on you. It was at the beginning of the time when you were making yourself a name and even though you won, his accusations stung for some people and some even thought him to be the victim. You fell out of two brand deals and an important interview in the upcoming months which was a major setback and all for what? Because a man couldn’t accept rejection? The sad part is that if it would have happened the other way around, he wouldn’t have had to suffer any effect of it, people don’t tend to question a man’s words when he is showing this charming and nice persona to the public. If you accused him the same way you would have been dragged and titled as a sour crybaby and Jordan’s life would have carried on the same way.
The peaceful lunch soon falls through as Taylor turns on her beast mode to at least get the tweet down as soon as possible, already contacting the legal team you worked with before. It has to be against what you agreed on at the end of the trials, he can’t just go around and drag you again without any consequences.
In just about twenty minutes, the tweets disappear from Jordan’s feed, but you know it was already late the moment he posted it. If something gets out on the internet it never goes away, there are probably hundreds if not thousands of screenshots floating around that will preserve his words forever.
You part ways Taylor as he heads to an immediate meeting with the lawyers you worked together previously, she tells you to try not to worry about it, but you can’t just turn it off in you, that’s not how it works.
Making your way home you keep riling yourself up about it, thinking about what it’s gonna cause you this time, what opportunity is going to be taken because a man has called you a lying bitch, even after winning the previous trial against him that proves how big of an asshole he really is.
Changing into a casual attire you head to Harry’s place a little earlier, hoping it’s not a problem you get there an hour before you were supposed to. Arriving you’re a little taken aback seeing that there is another car parking on the driveway that’s not his and you immediately regret coming here, but before you could leave, the front door opens and Harry walks out. You couldn’t have left without noticing, the security system must have signaled your arrival when you punched the opening code in.
“Hey, everything alright?” he asks instead of questioning your early arrival.
“I uhh—I’m sorry for being early, I could go—“
“Don’t be silly, come on in!” he waves at you and you walk up the stairs. “Two friends are here but they were just about to leave soon,” he explains as you walk in.
“Sorry for crashing the party,” you let out a soft chuckle.
“The more the merrier,” he smiles. “You seem a little stressed, everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just… It’s nothing,” you shake your head.
“Oh my God, is that who I think it is?” you hear a woman’s voice from behind and turning around you see a smiley brunette walking towards you, a shy looking guy following behind her.
“Sarah, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Sarah, my drummer, and that wanker over there is Mitch, my guitarist.”
“Nice to meet you.” Shaking hands with both of them you realize they look familiar from pictures you’ve seen from Harry’s tour.
“I saw that ugly tweet today, that guy needs to be kicked in the balls,” Sarah sighs with a sympathetic smile, Harry’s ears perking up.
“What tweet?” he asks, eyes switching between you and Sarah.
“Oh, just… Jordan Wells thinks it’s fine to drag people with absolutely no truth behind his words,” you answer with a tight-lipped smile.
“Jordan Wells? The name rings a bell,” Harry hums.
“He is a music producer,” Mitch chimes in.
“I think he was supposed to write for 1D one time, but the deal fell through. Guess we didn’t miss out on anything,” he jokes and it brings a genuine smile to your face.
“You surely didn’t,” you comment under your breath.
You chat with Sarah and Mitch for a bit before they decide to head out, but Sarah asks you to come around sometime they are hanging out and you gladly say yes, wanting to know her and Mitch better, they seem like great company and even greater musicians, it’s always good to meet people who are like you.
As Harry walks his friends out you make yourself comfortable on the couch, reading Taylor’s texts about the update on the recent actions, she has gotten in contact with Jordan’s team and legal steps will be taken if Jordan doesn’t show any sign of improvement in the very near future.
“Hey, want something to drink? Wine or beer maybe?” Harry walks in as you look up from your phone.
“Wine sounds fucking fantastic,” you breathe out earning a soft chuckle from him. You follow him into the kitchen and watch him get a bottle of white wine with two glasses. “I hope Sarah and Mitch didn’t leave early because of me.”
“Oh, not at all. They knew you’d be coming over and would have left around this time, so don’t worry about it.”
He joins you at the kitchen island with the two glasses handing you one and you take a sip from it with a satisfied hum.
“So, want to talk about this Jordan ordeal?”
“There’s not much to talk, really,” you shrug. “He is a jerk and I just can’t seem to get rid of him and I didn’t even date the guy…”
“What did he do this time?”
“Oh, he just casually called me a lying bitch on Twitter, so that’s fun,” you let out a fake laugh, raising your glass before taking a big swig from it.
“Not that creative, if you’re asking me,” he jokes making you laugh. “It’s a very plain choice of words.”
“Yeah, not as good as his best which was calling me a feminist nazi.”
Harry almost chokes on his wine as you say the words, coughing a little while you watch him with an entertained smirk.
“That’s… an interesting way to express his opinion about you,” he answers diplomatically.
“Right? I was thinking about getting a sign of it, like a Live, Love, Laugh one, in the middle of my living room.”
“Would be a wonderful touch of décor,” he smirks. “Alright, I have a proposal for today’s session.”
“Shoot it.”
“You seemed to enjoy your weed experience the last time, I thought we could give it a try again, but we would try to write this time as well.”
“You want to write while smoking?” you ask raising your eyebrows at him.
“Only if you want to. I just thought it would relax you a bit, might even come up with some interesting ideas for the song.”
“Are you trying to turn me into an addict?” you narrow your eyes at him and he just holds his hands up innocently.
“Told you, no pressure,” he smirks angelically.
“I feel like I’m not even coming here to work but to meet with my new dealer,” you chuckle making him laugh. “Okay, we can… give it a try.”
An hour and one joint per person later the two of you are lounging in his living room, he is sprawled out on the loveseat with a guitar on his arms while you are curled upon the sectional, fumbling with the strings of your hoodie.
“We should just… fucking steal a song,” you snort, finding your comment hilarious.
“Which one were you thinking about?” Harry smirks your way, his fingers gently strumming some random melody on the instrument.
“I really want to have a Madonna song to be mine,” you sigh dreamily.
“You’re a fan?”
“Oh, I grew up on her. I have an elaborate choreography for Hung Up,” you snort.
“You need to perform it for me.”
“No fucking way,” you laugh shaking your head. “Not even weed can make me dance for you.”
“Come on, I need to see that choreography, you can’t just hint it and then never show it to me!”
“Nah, not happening,” you laugh, sliding lower down in your seat, your head resting against the armrest of the couch.
You listen to him play the same melody over and over again with your eyes closed and though you really like what you are hearing, no words are forming in your mind that could serve as lyrics. Your phone buzzes on the cushion next to you and grabbing it you see a text from Taylor.
Taylor: Lawyers are on the case, we’ll have more tomorrow, don’t stress about it too much. Night! Xx
Sighing you drop the device back next to you, covering your eyes with your arms.
“You alright?” Harry softly asks.
“Nah, I just want to… disappear,” you sigh, tired of this fight you’ve been fighting for way too long.
“Is this about Jordan? He is a fucking ass, most people know it.”
“But not everyone!” you snap throwing your hands up. “And that fraction that still believes that he is saying the truth is enough to ruin my life. I’m fucking fed up with the injustice women have to face because of the patriarchy we are forced to live in!” Pushing yourself up you run a hand through your hair, hugging your knees to your chest. “It’s so fucking upsetting, like everything I do goes straight down the drain because of one little thing and I’m stuck with trying to rebuild my whole future plan.”
From a sudden urge, you move down to the floor, lying down on the fluffy rug that runs under the couches and the glass coffee table. It feels nice, kind of grounding to lie flat on the floor, especially because your senses are all messed up again because of the weed, but in a good kind of way.
“You worry way too much on longterm things. Try to stay in the moment a little more,” Harry tells you, putting the guitar to the side so he can move his feet to the floor, leaning onto his knees. “You can’t control this much what happens in the future, you should only care about today. And today, you’ve done good, you made it through another day, you did what you had to do and that’s it. Stressing about tomorrow or the next week or next year is just way too much to deal with all the time, twenty-four-seven, three-six-five, that’s just no way to live.”
Lying on the floor you stare up at the ceiling seemingly blankly, but your mind starts to swirl over what he just told you. The worlds are running around, mixing and mingling until something starts to form, making you gasp.
“Grab the guitar,” you tell him, sitting up abruptly. He pulls his eyebrows together, but does as you told him to, holding the instrument on his lap as he waits for you to instruct him more. “Play that… that melody you’ve been playing, but a little faster.”
He turns his attention at the guitar, trying the strings out a few times, feeling the melody under his fingers before he starts playing it just how you asked as you slowly start to sing the lines you have just thought about.
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“You made it through… another day, you made it through another day… You did it, let’s celebrate…”
The lines fit perfectly with the melody he has come up with and the more you sing, the wider his smile grows as you move along in the forming song.
“Some days you feel you’ll break, but you made it through another day, yeah, you did it, let’s celebrate…”
“Don’t fucking stop!” he chimes in, never stopping the riffs, trying out new things as you go, slowly perfecting it together with the lyrics.
“Twenty-four-seven and three-six-five, you made another day, you made it alive! Made another day made it alive!” You sing loud and clear, completely lost in the melody Harry is playing, the lines just flowing out of you, like a dam has been taken down and now everything washes over you at once.
When the chorus is about to come up however you run out of ideas, your eyes meet Harry’s and he sees that you’re stuck. His eyebrows knit together, tongue runs along his lips before he starts playing the melody of the chorus and takes over the singing as well.
“So today, baby, remember it’s okay! We’re all floating through space, today, baby, remember you’re okay! We’re all floating through space…”
He plays a little with the lines, repeats them, tries a few times before he stops singing, you are now standing up, watching him end the melody, neither of you saying a word as he room grows silent. A sudden urge drives you to go closer and you sit back down to the floor in front of him, your eyes casting over the now silent instrument on his lap. Looking up your eyes meet his and you feel like the air is kicked out of your lungs.
You’ve heard so much about moments when you feel yourself pulling towards someone, when it’s like a magnetic field but you never actually experienced it until now. Staring back at Harry you feel that pull everyone has talked about and you finally understand what they were trying to say. It’s like there’s a string coming from your chest that’s connected to him and he is tugging it without even doing anything.
Reaching forward he tugs a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers dancing down the side of your face as you catch his eyes wander down to your lips. Sucking on your breath you feel the moment, you know what he is thinking about because you think about the exact same thing. Kissing him. You are desperate to find out what his lips feel against yours, what he tastes like, what it’s like to have him so close to you.
“You want to kiss me,” you whisper and it’s not a question, more like an observation.
“I do,” he admits with a soft smile, but doesn’t move closer. “Can I?”
“I don’t think it’s an appropriate thing to do in our situation,” you breathe out, though you don’t agree with the statement fully.
“You think too much,” he chuckles softly, leaning closer just a tad bit, but there are still a few inches between the two of you. “Do you want to kiss me?”
“Yes,” you admit.
“Then we should just do what we want to,” he suggests with a small smirk and he looks ridiculously handsome with his dimples and shining green eyes that are glued to you.
“And then what? We’ll just go on like it never happened or there’s going to be more happening? How are we supposed to—“
You don’t get to finish, because Harry closes the distance between you and him and presses his lips against yours, swallowing the rest of your stammering speech. Whatever doubts and hesitation you felt just a moment ago, it all vanishes into nothing as you melt into his kiss, his lips caressing yours gently, softly capturing them, savoring and tasting you with caution, giving you the chance to pull back anytime, but nothing in your body can make you stop kissing him in this moment.
His palms cup your jaw as you push yourself up, slowly making your way to straddle his lap after he has blindly put the guitar to the side, hands coming to rest on his shoulder for leverage. His other hand grips your waist, pulling you close until your chest is pressed up against his, lips never disconnecting in the kiss.
Kissing him feels like second nature, like it’s not even the first but the hundredth time, but on the other hand, every touch and tiny sparkle is so new and unusual, you’ve never felt like this before.
Harry slowly pulls back, pecking your lips a few more times before he stops, nuzzling his nose against you in an adorable and innocent way that brings a smile to your lips.
“Doesn’t it feel good to just do whatever you feel like doing?” he asks with a soft smile, making you laugh.
“Kind of.”
“Nothing has to change. Or something can, it’s up to you.”
“You are so upsettingly cool and respectful,” you blurt out chuckling and it makes him laugh, his head falling back against the back of the couch.
“I’m sorry, I guess?” he smirks with a shrug.
“See? Respectful!” you grin, your hands moving up to cup his face. The pad of your thumbs gently tap against his dimples that are showing thanks to the wide smile on his lips right now. You can’t stop yourself from leaning down and kissing him again, even though your rational side is trying to make you stop. You just can’t, his lips are screaming to be kissed and who are you to deny that?
You’ve been running errands all day. Following an early meeting you ran to your favorite vintage store to get another armchair for your living room. Then you went grocery shopping because your fridge has been ridiculously empty the past two days and later you had a quick fitting for a few outfits you are supposed to wear in the near future. You’ve ran into a few fans too, having small chit-chats with them, taking photos, so it’s been a busy day.
It’s been a week since you and Harry have kissed and despite your fears, it hasn’t been awkward at all. He didn’t bring it up, but you don’t feel like he is pretending it never happened, which is kind of a great balance. He is giving you just enough time and space to figure out what it really meant to you, because quite frankly, you have no idea.
Obviously, you find him attractive. You’d have to be completely blind to say that he is not handsome and just simply good to look at. You’re attracted to him and not just to his looks, but to his whole persona.
It’s just you’re not sure it’s a smart idea to start anything with the man you’re working with and though you know Harry is nothing like Jordan, part of you is still scared the whole thing will happen all over again if you get involved with another man from the industry.
Workwise, everything is going well. You’ve successfully finished the song you started that ominous evening and have started recording it in Harry’s home studio, working some more on the melody, bringing a lot more into it than just a single guitar. What more, you’ve been coming up with new ideas for other songs, lyrics popping up in either your or Harry’s head and you just keep sharing them with each other, saving them for later once the song for the Grammy’s is done.
Heading back to your place you get a call from Harry, his smiley face appearing on the screen of your face as you accept the call and his accent fills the car through the speakers that are connected to your phone through Bluetooth.
“Hey, hope I’m not calling in the middle of a meeting,” he greets you and you can tell he is smiling.
“No, I’m just on my way home. What’s up?”
“I’m meeting with Sarah and Mitch for dinner tonight, thought you’d like to join us.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time with your friends, I feel like you’ve been spending all your time with me.”
“But I like spending time with you,” he chuckles softly, a blush making its way to your cheeks at his words.
“Are you sure you want me there? What about Sarah and Mitch? I crashed your last meeting with them as well.”
“You didn’t crash anything, Y/N. And I’m positive I want you there, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t. And just so you know, Sarah asked if you’d be joining us, so I assume they wouldn’t mind it either.”
“Oh, well, okay then. Send me the time and place.”
“Wonderful!” he beams, his enthusiasm making your chest warm.
By the time you arrive home he has already texted you the details and you have just one hour to spare before you have to head out. You opt for a quick shower and an outfit change, switching up your ripped mom jeans and simple t-shirt to one of your favorite jumpsuits. It’s a little baggy, but the waist is cinched in with an inbuilt corset, giving the whole fit a very interesting twist.
Arriving at the restaurant Harry has texted you the address of, the waiter escorts you to the terrace at the back that’s a lot more secluded and you feel yourself relaxing that you probably won’t get photographed. Harry is the only one who is already at the table, sitting with his eyes fixed on his phone, but he immediately puts it aside when he sees you approaching, a wide smile stretching across his face.
“Hey! You look amazing!” he greets you pulling you into a quick hug.
“Thank you,” you smile shyly. He is wearing a pair of brown slacks, a simple white shirt tucked into it, a knitted cardigan thrown on, a typical Harry outfit. “And thanks for the invite,” you add as you take the seat next to him, assuming Sarah and Mitch would like to sit next to each other.
“Don’t even mention it. We’re friends, it’s really nothing. I’m glad you could make it.”
The way he called you friends is giving you mixed feelings. Part of you is happily jumping up and down at the fact that he considers you as a friend, given how you don’t have many of those. It’s been hard opening up to anyone since you’ve made a name for yourself, you’ve ran into occasions a lot when people wanted more than just your friendship from you and it made you rather closed off when it comes to making friends.
On the other hand, you can’t help but feel a little disappointed. Is that all you are? Just friends? More importantly, is that all you want to be, or more?
Sarah and Mitch arrive soon after, joining you at the table and the waiter takes the orders before leaving the four of you alone. It seems like they genuinely like it that you’ve joined, so you can enjoy the evening a little more relieved.
Sipping on some amazing wine, you eat and talk and you feel like you’ve known these people your whole life. You especially like Sarah, she is so open-minded and funny and you think they make a great couple with Mitch who is obviously more closed off, but it’s obvious how much he worships his girlfriend.
Sometime in the evening, when you’ve already had two glasses of Chardonnay and you’re feeling a lot more relaxed and comfortable, you move closer to Harry without even noticing, leaning against him gently and his hand rests on your knee, giving it a soft squeeze under the table, making you want to move even closer to him to feel more of his touch, to get more of him.
Neither Sarah, nor Mitch questions the two of you being a little cozier and you’re thankful for the safe and stressfree environment they are providing, not making you overthink what you do, just letting you enjoy the moment.
At the end of the evening, you can’t shake the thought that you don’t want to say goodbye to Harry just yet. He pays for everyone’s dinner, leaving a generous tip for the waiter and you stay back at the table while Sarah runs out to the restroom and Mitch takes a quick call from his father, leaving you alone with Harry. His hand is still resting on your leg, a little farther up, but still in a very safe zone in the middle of your thigh.
Turning to face him your eyes meet his, his green irises glistening in the soft lighting and he looks so beautiful, you just want to kiss him again.
“Do you have plans after this?” you find yourself asking.
“Not that I know of.”
“Do you want to come over to my place?”
“That sounds like a nice plan,” he smiles at you warmly and you just know that if you weren’t out in the public, he would have leant in for a kiss and you wouldn’t have stopped him.
When Sarah and Mitch return all four of you head out and they don’t question when you follow Harry to his car. They say goodbye and Sarah makes you promise to join them some other time too and you happily say yes to the invitation.
Not much is being said on the way back to your place, he plays some music quietly as you navigate him through the streets.
“Welcome to mi casa,” you smile as you key the two of you into your apartment you’ve been living in for the past few years.
It’s nothing luxurious, just a tad bit bigger than what one person would need as a home. You would have been fine living in your previous home you lived in before you’ve gained fame, but you needed a much bigger closet so you were forced to move. It’s a two bedroom apartment with one big bathroom, an open concept kitchen and a spacious living room. And of course, a closet as big as your bedroom. It’s the perfect size and you haven’t even thought about buying a bigger place just because you can, it would be a waste of money and space. The interior is very much vintage with all your mismatched furniture and colorful walls, but you think it’s quite cozy and just the ideal space for you.
“Would you like something to drink?” you ask, walking into the kitchen to get yourself some water.
“Some water would be great, thank you.”
Filling up two glasses you hand him one as you lean against the counter, silently eyeing each other. It should be clear to him that you had intentions with asking him to come over, especially after being your cozy with each other during dinner, but you’re a little lost in what you should or even want to do. You just know you want him close.
He drinks up his water, his eyes meeting your gaze as a small smirk tugs on his cherry lips.
“You want to kiss me,” he states, using the exact same words you used the night when you kissed for the first time.
“I do,” you nod, feeling a little breathless.
“Then do it,” he simply answers, making you smile.
“Cool and respectful, as always,” you grin at him as he moves closer, stopping just a few inches away from you, your feet almost touching. Reaching up his fingers gently caress the side of your face and you feel yourself already melting under his touch.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, a shiver running down your spine at his words. You close your eyes for a moment, giving yourself the chance to pull out of it, but you realize you don’t want that, not even the tiniest bit. Opening your eyes they meet with his gaze before you move closer, closing the distance between you and him, lips meeting in a warm and chaste kiss.
Though it grows a little hungrier, you can tell he is still holding back a little, giving you the chance to stop whenever you want to, but you don’t intend to. Pushing yourself closer to him, your arms curl around his neck as his hands grip your waist, your tongue meeting his as you deepen the kiss and melt into his embrace.
Pulling back you grab his hand and head to the bedroom, going back to kissing him the moment you reach it. You easily slide his cardigan off his broad shoulders, pulling his t-shirt out of his pants before taking it completely off, throwing it somewhere to the side. You smirk against his lips, hands wandering down his naked chest and you can’t push down a moan as you feel the warmth of his chest muscles under your touch.
When you feel him try to blindly figure out how to get you out of your jumpsuit with not much luck and this clears your head for a moment to realize what is about to happen. Pulling back your gaze meets his and he stares back at you with caution, ready to stop whenever you tell him to, but that’s not what made you pull back.
“Harry, I…”
“We don’t have to do anything,” he softly tells you, his fingers dancing down the side of your face until they reach your chin and he pulls you in for a delicate and slow kiss.
“I want to,” you whisper. “It’s just that… I want you to know that I’ve never… I’ve never been with a man before.”
Searching in his eyes you look for any sign of what’s going on in his head wishing you could just simply read his thoughts.
“You’ve never been with a man?” he asks, seemingly not as surprised as you expected him to be. You nod, licking your lips, waiting for any kind of reaction, a part of you expecting to be upset, though you know he has no right to be mad at you for any of it. “Do you want me to be the first man?” he then asks, with a loving and warm smile as his hand on your hip pulls you against him playfully.
“Yes.”
“Then help me get you out of this jumpsuit, because I can’t figure it out for my life,” he chuckles making you laugh too.
You show him where the corset opens and then get you out of it with joined forces, finally leaving you standing in just your underwear. Harry’s gaze runs down your body, a look of hunger and passion shining through his green irises as he pulls you close again, kissing you with a lot more vigor this time.
Soon enough, his slacks slip to the floor and you climb to your bed, Harry following closely, climbing on top of you before rejoining your lips. Your knees open up wide for him, allowing him to sink his hips between your thighs, his crotch meeting your heated center, a moan slipping out your lips when you feel his erection rubbing against you through the material of your underwear. He kisses his way down your jawline and neck, gently sucking on the soft skin, peppering kisses along your collarbones before he reaches your chest. He easily unclasps your bra and slips the straps down your arms before getting rid of the barrier that’s been keeping him away from your naked chest.
“Fuck, Y/N, you are so damn beautiful,” he breathes out shakily, before his lips wrap around your right nipple, his hand cupping your other breast. You keep whining and whimpering as you feel his tongue swirl around your nipple before his mouth moves over to the other breast, giving it just the same amount of attention.
He kisses down your stomach, glancing up at you as he hooks his fingers into the elastic of your panties silently asking for your permission to go further, still so respectfully looking out for you. As an answer, you lift your hips up so he can easily slide the material down your legs and throw it to the side.
“Oh fuck!” you moan when his tongue and lips press against your bud, playing with it oh so perfectly, making you shudder. If you didn’t think Harry was perfect, his tongue work is now surely making a statement on that.
With every lick, kiss and suck he pushes you closer to your release that’s nearing in a fast pace like never before. Reaching down you lace your fingers through his chocolate curls, tugging on the lightly, making him moan against your core. You’re not sure how long you’ll last, but you want to cum with him inside you, so you pull him up, lips meeting again as you still taste your own juice on him. It’s heavenly.
Without breaking the kiss you reach down and into his underwear, palming his fully hard cock, earning a satisfied growl when you wrap your hand around him. The feeling is quite unknown, you’ve only once had to face a penis before, it happened back in high school when you were still figuring out what sexuality meant to you. Gave a wobbly and quite short handjob to a guy from the grade above you, never even talked to him again. The experience left a major effect on you, never even got close to being intimate with a man, but being with Harry now is putting everything into a whole new light.
“Do you have a condom?” he mumbles against your lips, clearly just as excited to carry on as you are.
“Yeah,” you nod and let go of him, rolling to the edge of the bed so you can dig into the drawer of your nightstand, successfully finding the little silver packet. Tearing it open you hand it over to Harry and get back to your previous position as you watch him kneeling up, rolling the condom on carefully. Your lips part when your eyes fall on his cock, seeing now how big he really is. Harry catches your eyes and leaning down he kisses you softly.
“Tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop, okay?” he kindly tells you, but you smile at him coyly.
“You might be the first man I’m with, but your dick won’t be the first thing to be inside me,” you answer with a smug smirk and it brings an amused look to his face.
“You are so fucking hot,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against yours in a hard kiss as he settles himself back between your legs.
Though you really tried to sound confident the other moment, you still feel a little nervous about it and Harry senses it right away. Holding himself up on one arm he cups your face in his other, kissing you slowly, taking his time with his lips, as if he is trying to make you forget about everything else but his lips.
“Are you still sure about this?” he softly asks, looking for any sign of hesitation in your eyes, but there’s none.
“Yeah, I want this. I want you,” you nod and reaching down between your bodies, you take him in your hands again, positioning him to your center.
Harry captures your lips in another passionate kiss as he pushes into you slowly, filling you up inch by inch. You gasp at the sensation, feeling a little tight around him, but not in an uncomfortable way.
“You alright?” he asks once he is almost fully in.
“Yeah, go ahead,” you breathe out with a small nod. He pecks your lips and slowly pushes all the way in before he starts to move out and then slide in again, picking up a not too fast but still firm pace with his movements.
You gradually get used to the feeling of him sliding in and out of you, it’s surely a whole different experience than using a dildo or any kind of toy you are used to. The thought that it belongs to him is bringing you a sense of intimacy you haven’t felt in a long time.
Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you dig your fingers into his hot skin that’s coated with a thin layer of sweat as he keeps moving, slowly picking up his pace as you both get closer to the endgame.
“Harry, faster, please!” you plead, legs coming to wrap around his waist so he can thrust in deeper, making you go completely nuts from the way your orgasm is already forming in the pit of your tummy.
He obeys without a second thought, slamming into you faster and harder, making you continuously moan his name, the room is filled with moans and panting, the slapping noise of his hips meeting yours.
Harry buries his face into the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking on the soft skin, definitely leaving a mark, but you couldn’t care less. You just grab a handful of his hair, shutting your eyes closed as you feel yourself nearing the end.
“Harry, I’m gonna cum,” you pant, barely hanging on.
Instead of stretching it out and trying to play with you, Harry clearly wants you to combust. Reaching down between your bodies his index and middle fingers find your clit and he starts circling on it, adding that little extra you needed to fall over the edge.
Moaning and whimpering under his massive body, your orgasm washes over you in waves, bringing you such an intense satisfaction you’ve never felt before. He keeps up his thrusting and just a few moments later his movements fall out of his rhythm and mumbling your name over and over again, he gasps as he rides his high while you’re still trying to catch your breath following your own.
With a heaving chest Harry rolls off of you, gets rid of the condom and throws it to the small bin you keep next to your night stand and then lies flat beside you as you both just silently stare up at the ceiling, very much in the best kind of after sex haze.
“How are you feeling?” he then asks, rolling to his side, his hand coming to rest on your bare stomach. Turning your head to the side you crack a smile at him.
“I feel like I’ve just been properly fucked,” you bluntly answer, making him laugh wholeheartedly. Rolling to your side his arm falls to your waist as you scoot closer, your face only a few inches from his. He is so pretty up close, his features never fail to amuse you, hard to believe he is a real human, lying right next to you.
He closes his eyes a little, letting his head sink into the pillow as his fingers delicately dance up and down your side and back. You feel like you owe him to say something, dropping a major detail about yourself in a heated moment.
“I had two girlfriends,” you speak up, his eyes fluttering open to your words. “The first one was when I was eighteen, we dated for almost a year, then I briefly dated a guy, but it was barely just a month. And I had my second girlfriend when I was twenty. We were together for two years.”
“Are you still friends with them?”
“I still talk to the second one. Her name is Mila. We broke up because she moved to Spain for a job for a year and we didn’t want to do long-distance. Then we just… grew apart, but we still talk sometimes. She lives in Atlanta now, she has a girlfriend and she told me that she is planning to propose soon.”
A soft smile tugs on your lips as you talk about her. She was an important person in your life in a time that was truly challenging. Mila supported your dreams, she went to a lot of your concerts and she was the first one you called when you got your record deal even though you weren’t together anymore. She has seen you go from performing in dodgy bars to rocking the stage of arenas.
“Congrats to her,” Harry smiles through tired eyes. Reaching up he tucks your hair behind your ear before leaning closer he envelopes your lips in a soft kiss.
“We really shouldn’t have done this,” you hum, though you can’t wipe the satisfied smile off your lips.
“Why not?”
“Because we work together.”
“So what? We aren’t allowed to like each other?” he smirks cockily.
“You like me?”
“Thought I made that pretty clear,” he chuckles rubbing his eyes. “But yeah, I do like you, Y/N. A lot.”
“I… like you too,” you admit shyly. Leaning in he kisses you again before pulling you to his chest as he lies on his back.
“Can I stay the night or you want to throw me out?” he hums closing his eyes. Chuckling your snuggle to him, making yourself comfortable, enjoying the warmth of his body after so spending so many nights alone in this bed.
“You can stay, but you have to behave.”
“Oh I will behave my best, don’t worry.” A chuckle rumbles through his chest as you both fall silent and soon enough, drift off to sleep.
You wake up tangled in the sheets, but no one else is lying in bed with you. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes you look around and though there’s no sign of Harry in the room you spot his clothes on the floor. That’s when you hear the pots and pans clinking somewhere outside and you smile to yourself. You pull a t-shirt on with a pair of clean panties before heading out, finding Harry in your kitchen, wearing your pink fluffy robe and nothing else as he is making what seems to be pancakes.
“I don’t remember hiring a chef,” you joke walking closer, sliding a hand down his back as you lean against the counter next to the stove.
“Good morning,” he smiles. “I really wanted for you to wake up but I was afraid my growling stomach might wake you up,” he chuckles as he flips the pancakes in the pan with the spatula.
“Found everything you needed?” you ask, walking over the fridge to grab the orange juice.
“Yeah, you have a neatly organized kitchen,” he hums. “Sorry for snooping around though.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Pouring the juice to two glasses you hand one to him which he thanks softly before placing the golden pancakes to the plate on the counter and pours another bunch into the pan.
Sipping on your juice you watch him move around, making breakfast in your robe and you can’t help but smile at the sight of this fine man in your kitchen. Harry catches you eyeing him and he cocks an eyebrow at you.
“What’s gotten you so smiley?” he asks, his voice still a little groggy and husky.
“I just… really want to kiss you,” you shrug placing the glass to the counter.
“I think we are over this whole asking for permission thing,” he smirks, stepping closer he leans down and kisses you gently, tasting like orange juice and something sweet, he has probably ate one of the pancakes. His hand that’s not holding the spatula finds your waist, the t-shirt bunches up on your side as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss before you hear sizzling coming from the stove.
“Whoops, not trying to burn the place down,” he chuckles as he turns to the pan and flips the pancakes. You wrap your arms around his waist and kiss his jawline before stepping away from him to set the table for breakfast.
“Do you have any plans this weekend?” he asks over breakfast.
“I have a meeting with my label on Saturday, but nothing else.”
“I’m having a few friends over Saturday evening, kind of a late Grammy nomination celebration. Want to come over?”
“Yeah, that… sounds good,” you nod smiling.
“I was thinking that maybe you could spend the night and then we can finish recording on Sunday.”
“Alright, I’m in.”
Harry takes a quick shower after breakfast before heading out, promising to call you later and though it still feels a little odd that he says goodbye with a kiss, you very much like this new setup between the two of you.
Friday evening Taylor is over at your place, she loves helping you sort out promo stuff you get sent all the time, especially because you let her take whatever you don’t want, half her closet was meant to be worn by you.
Sitting on the floor with boxes surrounding the both of you, you’re digging through them with a bottle of wine, some 90’s music playing in the background, it’s a nice and relaxing evening.
Your phone lights up with a text on the coffee table and you already know it’s from Harry. You haven’t stopped texting since he left from your place just a few days ago.
Harry: Do you think it’s a look for the Grammy’s?
He attached a photo of himself in all denim, looking very much like 2001 Justin Timberlake at the AMA.
Y/N: Should I match and pull a Britney?
Harry: Is that even a question?!
“Okay, who’s the girl?” Taylor asks, making you tear your eyes away from the phone’s screen.
“Huh?”
“Last time I saw you smiling like this at your phone you were talking to that girl you met at that award show. So who is it this time?”
“It’s… not a girl,” you admit, placing your phone back to the coffee table.
“Oh, did a guy finally manage to sweep you off your feet?” Taylor gives you an amused look, genuinely surprised to hear that this time it’s a guy that has you wrapped around his finger. “What is his name?”
“Harry,” you shortly answer and see her eyes widen.
“Wait, is it… Harry as in Harry Styles?”
“Yeah,” you admit with a soft chuckle.
“Oh my God, I knew I could feel some sexual tension between you two at Jeff’s office!”
“There wasn’t any, what are you talking about?”
“You didn’t see it because you were too busy trying to blow off the duet, but it was radiating from him.” She gives you a look, putting the sweater she’s been examining to the side. “So, how are things? Are you guys an item, or…?”
“We didn’t label anything, he just said he likes me and I like him too. And he… spent the night the other day.”
“Wait, what? Spent the night as in—“
“Yes, we had sex,” you confirm blushing.
“That’s like huge! The first man you’ve been with!”
“I know,” you chuckle.
“How was it?”
“Fucking amazing,” you truthfully admit with a sigh. “I didn’t think it could be this good with a guy. Maybe it’s just because it was with him.”
“He surely looks like a guy that takes good care of his girl. So what’s gonna happen? Are you guys together?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to care about names and labels, he just likes to do whatever he wants and if I’m being honest it’s kind of refreshing. We are just… enjoying whatever we have.”
“That sounds very liberal,” Taylor chuckles. “But I’m happy for you. You’ve been alone for way too long, I think he might do good to you.”
“I really hope,” you nod with a sigh.
“How is the song writing going?”
“We’re finishing up recording on Sunday. I’ll send it to you when it’s done and we can start all the paperwork and everything.”
“Amazing, you are doing great, Y/N, I’m proud of you,” she smiles and climbing over she wraps you in a tight hug.
“Thanks, Tay,” you smile at her. “Alright, now do you want these lace socks or should I burn them?” you ask holding up a whole pack of them, making her laugh.
Harry said it’s just a chill get together, nothing fancy so you decide to wear a khaki maxi skirt with a shirt tucked into it that was a gift from a fan, your first album’s name embroidered to the front. It’s one of your favorite pieces and you like wearing things your fans make you, gives the whole fit a plus.
Arriving to Harry’s place you spot that there are a few cars already parking on the driveway. You leave your overnight bag in the trunk, grab the bottle of wine you’ve brought and head inside. Unlike every time you’ve been here, the silence is now switched up with soft music and chatters, quite a few people lingering around the house already.
Just as you walk farther inside, Harry appears on the stairs and his face lights up at the sight of you.
“Hey! Did you just arrive?” He jogs down the rest of the stairs and walking up to you he pulls you close for a quick kiss without hesitation.
“Yeah. I know you said not to bring anything, but I hate coming to parties empty handed,” you chuckle softly, holding the wine bottle up.
“Thanks. Have you eaten? Jeff is grilling outside, but help yourself with anything.”
“I’ll be fine, thanks.”
“Sarah and Mitch are already here, but come on, let me introduce you to a few people.”
Harry takes your hand, lacing your fingers together with his. He drops the wine off in the kitchen before joining all the other guests. It’s really not that many people, just about thirty of his close circle. Musicians, people he has worked with and stayed close with, people he has known for long. Everyone seems welcoming and open, many already know who you are and it’s always a good conversation start, so there are not many awkward silences, especially because Harry is always near you, making sure you feel comfortable around his friends and it means a lot to you.
“Hey, everything alright?” Harry asks, when he finds you in the kitchen, refilling your glass. He walks up to you, placing a hand to your waist as he kisses into your hair.
“Yeah, your friends are nice,” you smile at him.
“I know, that’s why they are my friends,” he smirks, so full of himself. “Want to hear something interesting?”
“Always.”
“I was talking to Adam and our song came up and then out of nowhere I referred to you as my girlfriend.”
Seemingly he is testing the waters, trying to see how you react to the title, even a little afraid of what you might say, but it doesn’t scare you.
“Yeah? That’s interesting indeed.”
“Are you okay with it? I wasn’t really thinking about it, just slipped out.”
“It’s fine,” you smile at him softly.
“You don’t have to call me your boyfriend, call me whatever you want. It’s just a habit of mine, I guess,” he explains, popping some nuts into his mouth from the little jar on the counter.
“Alright,” you nod. Harry stares back at you for a moment before a smile stretches across his face and leaning down he kisses you shortly before taking your hand and walking back to the living room with you.
The last guests leave around midnight. After bringing your bag up to his bedroom you start cleaning up while Harry walks out the last couple leaving. You start loading the washer and put away things you’ve cleaned before.
“Oh, thank you for cleaning, but you don’t have to. I can take care of it later.”
“It’s nothing, I want to make myself useful,” you chuckle softly as you start the washer. Harry comes up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he kisses into your neck.
“I have other ideas for that,” he murmurs, his nose nudging the side of your face.
“Yeah? What kind of ideas?” you teasingly ask, closing your eyes when you feel his hand slide under the waist of your skirt, moving down your abdomen until it reaches your core.
“Fun kinds,” he chuckles lowly. His other hand turns your head so his lips could meet yours, you’re still pressed up against him, melting against his chest with your back just right, like you’re two puzzle pieces.
“Fuck,” you breathe out when his fingers wander into your underwear and they start doing their magic. “Harry!” you whine, reacting intensely to his actions.
“I fucking love hearing my name from your pretty mouth,” he growls, kissing you hard before his lips part from yours and he starts bunching up your skirt.
You don’t protest, in fact, you lean forward, grabbing onto the edge of the counter as he pulls down your panties and you hear the zipper of his pants. Glancing over your shoulders you see him pull out a condom from his pocket and you can’t push down a laughter.
“Did you keep that in your pocket all evening?”
“Wanted to be ready when I finally got you all for myself,” he smirks, pulling his cock out of his boxer briefs, rolling on the condom.
His hands come in contact with your hips and ass cheeks, giving them a light squeeze before you feel him lining himself up with you. His palm slides up your back as he pushes into you, both of you moaning at the fulfilling sensation.
“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he breathes out as he pushes all the way inside before starting to pull out.
“Go hard, Harry. Please!” you whimper as he starts thrusting into you. Harry lets out a growl and slams into you, making you gasp at the harshness of the movement, but that’s exactly what you wanted.
The kitchen is filled with the noises coming from the washer next to you and the slapping noise of Harry’s hips meeting your ass with every forceful thrust he makes. His ring clad fingers dig into your hips, probably already making them red, but you couldn’t care less. You hold onto the edge of the counter, but then you move one hand to cover his on you, needing to touch him in some kind of way.
Leaning forward Harry kisses your back between your shoulder blades through the thin material of your shirt and you moan his name when he hits the perfect spot inside you.
“Shit, Harry! I’m g-gonna cum!” you gasp, perking your ass up more so he can go as deep as possible.
“Let go for me, baby. Come on!”
“I want to cum with you.”
“Yeah? Then hold on for a little longer, I’m almost there.”
You try your best to keep everything inside you under control, your orgasm is really on the edge and you can only hope he is nearing his end too.
“Harry! Please!”
“Fuck, okay, okay, cum for me! Let me feel you!” he moans and his words bring you the release.
You clench around him, moaning and whimpering and it finally pushes you into his bliss too. His thrusts slow down but they are hard and go deep, helping you ride the last bits of your high.
He pulls out and gets rid of the condom before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you up from your position so he can kiss your lips.
“How about we take a shower while the washer finishes?” he suggests, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“Mm, good idea.”
Once the song is fully finished you submit it to your label after an agreement that it should come out through yours, but it wouldn’t be tied to your or Harry’s upcoming album. Everyone seems to love it, Taylor is over the moon when you show her the final version and Jeff is just as happy about it. Having only three more weeks left until the Grammy’s, you send them your request to perform the duet instead of the medley they asked. Their answer comes the next day and they are more than happy to have you premiere your new duet at the show. Everything seems to be on track.
Following a rehearsal for the Grammy performance, you’re staying over at Harry’s, just eating takeout and having a lazy evening after a whole day of working. You’ve put on a new Netflix movie, but every time you look at Harry you feel like his mind is somewhere far away.
“Want to share what’s on your mind?” you ask softly, not wanting to be pushy, you’re just trying to be there for him.
“I’ve just been thinking.”
“About what?” He looks up at you, clearly hesitant whether he should share it with you or not.
“About what you said about your parents.”
“Oh,” is all you can say. Pausing the movie you turn all your attention to him. “What about it?”
“I was just talking to my mom the other day, she is coming here for the Grammy’s and I thought about how you… won’t have your parents there with you.”
“There’s a reason for that.”
“Yeah, but then I thought about how you said you haven’t even let them contact you since then and that maybe they’ve changed their mind about the whole situation. You’ve clearly proved them wrong with building yourself a career, maybe they can now see that what they did was wrong.”
You remain silent, chewing on his words. You’ve been great at not thinking about your parents these past years, it feels weird to have a conversation about them out of nowhere. Harry takes your silence as a warning sign, though that’s not the case.
“You know what? I’m sorry for bringing it up. It’s not really my business, I shouldn’t have brought it up, sorry,” he shakes his head.
“What… would you do if you were in my place?”
Harry looks at you, surprised you are willing to continue the conversation. His hand finds your thigh and he gives it a gentle squeeze.
“I think it might worth a shot to just… contact them. See if they want to maybe get in touch again.”
“And what if they don’t?”
“Then… you know you made the right decision leaving. I know it’s scary, but I think you should take a chance.”
“I’ll… think about it,” you nod shortly.
“Take your time, do whatever you feel comfortable with.” He pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you get comfortable in his embrace before starting the movie again.
Two weeks before the show you are headed to a fitting with Harry, your matching sets are nearly done, but they needed you to try them on and make sure they fit just perfectly. True to your and Harry’s extravagant fashion, this performance won’t lack any over the top fits either. It was clear from the beginning that you would be matching, but you made it clear that you want to bring it to the level where you’d be wearing the exact same outfit, so now there are two sets of suits in the making, the pattern of the whole two piece is recalling a kind of space vibe, blues, purples and black meeting in the colors with hundreds of embroidered stars and planets littering the fabric with additional crystal stars to make it even more extra. It’s truly one of a kind, especially paired with the sheer, tulle shirt you both will be wearing underneath.
“We look fucking great, babe,” Harry smirks as the two of you stand next to each other, examining yourself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror on the small podium.
“We really do,” you smirk, satisfied with how the performance is coming together. It’s gonna be the perfect way to celebrate both your first Grammy nominations, a huge milestone in your and Harry’s career as well.
Grabbing his phone he quickly takes a picture in the mirror of the two of you, pulling you to his side as you smile into the camera through the mirror. Then you leave him alone on the podium as they are pinning his pants to make it the perfect size. Stepping to your bag you fish your phone out and reading just the first few words of Taylor’s last message she sent about ten minutes ago, you feel all blood rushing out of your face. Tapping on the notification you start reading.
Taylor: Please don’t lose your head, but we are dealing with this.
She attached several articles and you start digging through them.
“Is Harry Styles dating his new duet partner?”
“Harry Styles cozied up with Y/N Y/L/N at dinner with friends.”
“Can we expect some hot make out sessions at the Grammy’s from Harry and his new beau?”
And then there’s the absolute worst.
“Is Y/N Y/L/N going to take Harry Styles to court too?”
“Shit, shit, shit,” you mumble under your breath, vigorously typing back to Taylor to take them down. Two pictures have been leaked from the time you had dinner with Sarah and Mitch, it’s so odd because it’s been weeks since then, where were these pictures all along? Not that it matters, all you want is for them to be gone.
Against your better judgment, you go online and check your social media even though you know you shouldn’t snoop around now that it’s out there. No surprise, you and Harry are trending, but the reactions are very much mixed.
The impact of your case with Jordan is still major. It doesn’t matter that you won, people are still questioning whether he said the truth or not and now they are afraid you might drag Harry down just like you did with Jordan. That you are just trying to use his fame to get more attention and then ruin his career, making a victim out of yourself again, because apparently that’s what you’ve been doing.
You’re not only being dragged, but all of a sudden, nothing is about the music and the art you are making, people just want to know if you’re fucking Harry Styles or not. A lot of the times you’re not even named, only referred to Harry’s new lover or what’s worse, his hookup. You’ve lost all the credit you worked so hard for and for what? Because you dared to have dinner with a man?
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Harry asks walking up to you. Your eyes snap up at him and he immediately sees the shock and anger in them, setting panic in him as well. “What is it?”
“The fucking… pictures,” you hiss handing him your phone so he can see the articles for himself. He scrolls through them with furrowed eyebrows, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip before handing the phone back once he has gotten to the end of it.
“Let’s finish this up and head home, okay? We’ll figure it all out.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and you nod, trying your best to keep your anger at bay while the designers finish up on the outfits.
An hour later you walk into your place, talking on the phone with Taylor, discussing the situation though there’s not much you can do at this point. It’s all out, the pictures can’t be taken down. She suggests to just keep quiet for now, she’ll call Jeff to see what could be done as damage control.
Throwing your phone to the bed you feel your whole body shaking from the anger, it’s agonizing to know there’s nothing you can do to stop it.
“Hey, it’s gonna be fine. We’ll figure it out,” Harry speaks up, trying his best to calm you down, but it’s not really working this time.
“Stop saying it, you don’t know that for sure. I can’t believe this bullshit is happening all over again,” you breathe out shaking your head.
“Again?”
“Yes! I’m being fucking dragged for something I shouldn’t be.”
“People will always have controversial opinion on everything, you can’t get them all to like you.”
“It’s not about liking, Harry!” you snap. “I couldn’t give a damn about people liking me, but they discredit my work. Have you read those articles? I’m seen with a man and suddenly, I’m not even seen as an artist anymore. I’m not even my own person in some of them, just a girl who is linked to you. How is that fair?”
“It’s not, but stressing yourself about it until you’re sick is not gonna help anything,” he retorts in a firm voice.
“So I should just sit around and so nothing while watching all my work go to shit?”
“Nothing is going to shit! This is how it goes, there’s always something people talk about but they will forget about it in a week. That doesn’t take anything away from what you’ve proved through your career.”
“Now that’s a lie. Because if they did forget about things in a week, they wouldn’t be bringing up the whole Jordan thing now. I dared to stand up for myself against a man and look where it took me to! I’m the drama queen, the lying bitch who likes to ruin men for apparently no reason and they see me as a threat when it comes to you too. People are talking about how I’ll take you to court as well, they think I’m just using you even though they know nothing about me! And the worst part is that it wouldn’t be like this if I weren’t a woman. Whatever happens, however we react to the situation, it will never have the same effect on your career than it will have on mine.”
“So what, you’ll just live your life without ever doing anything that’s gonna upset people? There will always be someone who’ll judge whatever you do, you can’t do anything about that and if you let them get to you now, they’ll know they can mess with you easily.”
“So I’m just supposed to ignore everything? And not do a single thing about it? It’s easy for you, you’ll walk away from this without a scratch on your name, because you are a white man who can do no wrong in the eyes of the world.”
“Okay, now you are being mean for no reason.”
“I’m telling you the truth,” you retort. “And you know what else is part of the truth? That I’m not even having it the worse. There are women who are even more targeted because of their religion, their skin color, their nationality or sexuality and people don’t even realize how hard it is for any of us. I’m sick of the injustice we have to live with just because of our gender!”
“I do acknowledge the problem on hand, I’m aware of it and I’m all for doing against it, but we are not gonna solve it instantly, it’s a long process. Sometimes we just have to pull back a little, be smart about things.”
“They will never stop about this,” you shake your head, stubbornly clinging onto your opinion. “I won’t be seen as a serious artist anymore, just some girl who was linked to you. It’s fucking done, over.”
“Y/N, what are you trying to say?” Harry asks with caution.
“Exactly what you are thinking about,” you reply with a bitter laugh. “I can’t be a respected artist if I’m with you.”
“That’s not true. It will die down, they will see that you are more than just who you’re dating and everything will be fine.”
“What’s not fair is that I have to work for it to be fine while you are still the same artist you were before it all blew up. Don’t you think it’s unfair?” you call him out and part of you knows you’re being mean and unnecessarily rude to him, but you just can’t control it any longer. You need to let it out and unfortunately, he is the one who is here to take the blame.
“It is, but what are you expecting me to do about it? Release a statement asking people to only talk about my dating life to make it equal? What can be done is that we try to fight this together, show them that you’re more than just a woman who is linked to a man in any kind of way.”
“Yeah, like realization is just gonna hit them,” you snap. “I’m at a turning point in my career, Harry. Whether I win a Grammy or not, this time is going to have an impact on my future. If I’m seen as just a girl linked to you, I’ll never make it. I’ll be forgotten and dragged again and I can kiss my career goodbye.”
You know you were way too harsh, but it’s what you think to be the truth. You didn’t fight your way to this point in life just to be seen as a man’s girlfriend rather than the artist you truly are. And right now, you can’t see yourself get out of this situation without letting go of Harry.
“Y/N, please don’t let this ruin what we have. We can get through this, you can’t let them control your life this much. Who are they to tell you what to do? That’s not the Y/N I know, come on!”
He tries to step closer, reaching out for you, but you take a step back, wanting to keep the distance between the two of you.
“I would prefer to be alone now,” you sternly say, folding your arms on your chest, closing yourself off from him as you don’t even look at him, because if you did, you know you would break.
“Y/N, please don’t do this, we—“
“Alone!” you snap, cutting him off.
He stares at you, hoping you might change your mind, but you’re quite set on this. He knows you well enough to know you won’t budge anytime soon. He lets out a shaky breath and slowly turning around, he heads towards the door as you’re already fighting your tears back. He stops right before he is about to walk out.
“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” he quietly says before walking out, the door shutting closed behind him.
The sobs start immediately and you fall to the ground, tears soaking your cheeks, already missing him more than anything in your life. You really thought it would be different this time, that things might get better, but you were naïve.
The next two days go by in a blur. The whole fucking internet is filled with those damn pictures of you and Harry, nothing has been about any of your Grammy nominations or even about your music, you’ve officially became the woman Harry Styles is dating.
Harry was titled as a Grammy nominee in every goddamn writing that surfaced, he was completely credited for his work while you could be happy if your name was written correctly. With every new article, your faith in having the career you worked so hard for lessened until you felt hopeless. You’ve officially became a dumb celebrity, just a woman who was known to be dating a man in the industry.
On the evening of the second day you have enough. You just read yet another degrading piece of you that was clearly written by a man, they once again talked about your case with Jordan, joking about history repeating itself and you swear you could scream and throw a tantrum like a baby at how useless and helpless you feel.
You put your laptop to the side and reach for your phone, dialing Taylor’s number.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” she asks right away, knowing well how hard these past days have been. She came over the evening you sent Harry away and tried to comfort you, but nothing could help you that night.
“Hey, I want to ask you to do something and not try to talk me out of it.”
“Oh God…” she sighs, already knowing you’re about to do something stupid according to her.
“I don’t want to perform at the Grammy’s.”
“What? With all due respect, are you fucking stupid?”
“I’m not stupid. But I don’t want to do it.”
“Well, this has got to be the most ridiculous move you’ve ever tried to pull. Why do you want to throw such a huge thing away?”
“I can’t… sing that song with Harry. If I stand on the stage and sing with him… I just can’t do it, Tay.”
“Of course you can! Suck it up! I know you miss him and it fucking sucks what’s happening, but you have to do it!” she tries to convince you, but you’ve already made your mind up.
“No. I’m not doing it. Please let them know that it’s going to be just Harry performing.”
And with that, you end the call.
Taylor knows better than to try to fight you, she doesn’t call back though you know she wants to murder you right now probably, but she’ll come around, she always does. You make yourself a tea hoping to relax your nerves with it though you know nothing can help you now. You wish you had someone to rely on, someone you could talk to right now, but usually Taylor is that person to you and lately Harry has been your support, but you can’t call either of them. The rest of the people you consider friends… they are just not that close to you. You’re left alone, again.
As your gaze wanders over to your phone, a thought pops up in your mind that makes your hands sweat. You think back to the conversation you had with Harry about your parents and you can’t shake the urge off to finally make that call.
“Fuck it,” you breathe out and grab the device, opening up the contacts until you find what you’ve been looking for. Your thumb hovers above the call button for a while before you finally tap on it and start the call. It rings four times before a voice speaks up on the other end.
“Halo?”
“Hi mom,” you reply and hear a gasp from her at your voice.
There’s less than a week left until the Grammy’s. For your own sake, you haven’t been online outside of answering work emails, you just can’t deal with the shit show your life has become on the internet.
You haven’t left your home unless you really needed to go somewhere, did most of your meetings over the phone or videochat and postponed a fitting as well. You’ve officially caved yourself up in your apartment and you are not planning on leaving anytime soon.
Taylor keys herself in, she hasn’t even mentioned that she might drop by, but you’re not surprised. She is probably here to try to bring you out of this pity party you’ve been holding for days. When she sees you lying on the couch in sweats and messy, unwashed hair, she sighs, shaking her head.
“You really need to pull your shit together, Y/N.”
“I’m fine,” you mumble, pulling your fuzzy blanket up to your chin.
“No, you’re not. This is not the bad bitch I know.”
“Bad bitches have bad days too.”
“This is not a bad day, you look like a fucking zombie. This is not what a Grammy nominee should look like days before the big show.”
“Doesn’t matter, it’s not like I’m performing or anything,” you shrug, but the look in Taylor’s eyes make yours go wide. “Taylor, I’m not performing, you informed them about it, right?”
“This is why I’m here,” she sighs walking closer, sitting on the other end of the couch. “I never cancelled on your performance.”
“I told you I’m not doing it!”
“I know, but I was hoping you might come around. But you seem to be still acting like a stupid bitch, so that didn’t happen. However, I’ve gotten an interesting email today.”
She pulls out her phone and opens the email before handing it over to you. Shooting her an unhappy look you start reading.
-
Hi Taylor!
I got your email address from Jeff, wanted to write to you myself. I’ve officially pulled out of the Grammy performance so it’s going to be only Y/N in it. We are also working on a statement to release over the whole ordeal and my lawyers have been after the bigger gossip sites to get the articles down. I want Y/N to have the Grammy experience she deserves and I know it can’t happen with me in the performance. Tell her that I’m sorry for ruining it for her, she deserves so much more. I’m sorry she was brought into this.
I hope to see you soon, take care!
Harry
-
With parted lips, you look up at Taylor who is smiling softly at you.
“He… pulled out for me.”
“He did. Talked to Jeff on the phone, they have already let them know Harry wouldn’t be performing, they will make it official tomorrow.”
“But he deserves this just as much as I do. He is a nominee too.”
“Well, seems like he values you more than his own success.” Taylor lets out a long sigh and scooting closer she places a hand to your knee. “Look, I know you’re upset about how the media treats you just because you were seen out with Harry, and I know that you’re afraid of getting labeled as just the girl he dates and not get taken seriously as an artist, but you can’t let them stop you from living your life how you want to. There will always be judgment, there will always be men who are worse than trash and want to bring you down, but you are stronger than that. Pushing Harry away and being alone for the rest of your life is not a solution. What you can do to put them to their place is give them a big fuck you, date the hottest man in the industry and continue being the bad bitch that you are, fighting against the way you are being treated. Speak up, show them who they are dealing with, share your truth, like you always do! But you can do all of this with Harry by your side. You deserve to be happy and he makes you happy, don’t make yourself miserable because we live in a world where men are still placed above women. Fight for the change but don’t forget to think about yourself as well in the process.”
You feel the tears sting in your eyes. The weight of this past week is just way too heavy to carry, but Taylor is right and you are realizing that you’ve made it harder for yourself. The sobs come before you could stop yourself and Taylor pulls you into a hug.
“I know, I know. It fucking sucks, but you can’t let them win,” she soothes, running her hands up and down your back. “Show them how big of a bad bitch you are and get the man too.”
“You think Harry still wants to be with me?”
“I think that man would be on his knees for you in a heartbeat if you asked,” she chuckles pulling back. “Statement about the performance will be released tomorrow. That’s how long you have to figure it out,” she tells you with a knowing look before leaving you alone with your thoughts, however you don’t have to think long what you have to do.
You have not been the only one these past days took a toll on. The fight the two of you had left Harry completely drained, angry and helpless. He hated that he was the reason you weren’t credited as the talented artist that you are and he couldn’t stop thinking about ways to make it better. That’s when he came up with the idea of pulling out of the performance.
Now he is ready to spend the remaining days until the award show hidden from the world, not even leaving the house. Everyone close to him knows he is better not to be disturbed now, so he is quite surprised when the security system lets him know that someone has arrived.
As you drive up to his house you spot him immediately, stepping out the front door with a shocked look on his face, probably expecting you to be the last person to be there at the moment. You wipe your sweaty palms against your thighs as you walk up to him, feeling anxious to see him and talk to him, especially after the last conversation you had.
“Hey, I’m sorry for coming here without calling or anything…” you shyly start, stopping in front of you.
“Don’t be silly. Come… Come on in,” he clears his throat inviting you inside.
You’ve walked through this front door so many times in the past almost two months, but this is the first time you feel so odd, standing out, like you have no place in here and it’s all thanks to yourself.
“Do you want something to drink? Are you hungry?” Harry walks past you but then turns to face you, talking to you with such warmth and kindness, even after how you acted, putting blame on him for something he has no control over. It completely breaks you and can’t stop your eyes from watering as you look at him. You really hoped you’ve run out of tears in the past days, but it seems like that’s not the case at all.
“Harry, I’m so sorry,” you breathe out shakily and you step closer to each other at the same time, he envelopes you in his strong arms and you fist his shirt at his chest. “I know it was none of your fault, I just got so desperate and afraid that it might ruin what I worked so hard for.”
“I know. And you were right about everything. Everything you said was true and I’m sorry you have to deal with it.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t right to be mad at you just because you have different privileges, it’s not like you can change who you are. So I’m really sorry about that, and also for pushing you away when you were just trying to be there for me. I was so stupid,” you breathe out, wiping the tears sliding your cheeks down away.
“You just panicked, it’s okay. Don’t apologize for wanting to protect yourself.”
Resting your forehead against his shoulder you wait for your sobs to die down before you look back up at him. Reaching up he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, smiling down at you warmly and that smile alone ensures you that you are exactly where you are supposed to be, with the right person.
“Taylor showed me the email you sent her,” you bring it up, clearing your throat.
“You deserve it all to yourself so people can see how amazing of an artist you are.”
“I’m not doing it without you,” you shake your head stubbornly. “We wrote the song together and we’re gonna perform it together or else I’m not doing it either.”
“Y/N, you know if we step on that stage together they are gonna twist the whole thing and make it about something else. I want you to have this opportunity for your career without me ruining it with just my presence.”
“Fuck them, if they take it as something it’s not. They are not gonna take the chance away from us to perform our song. If they are such fucking dumbasses that they make it all about what’s between us, that’s their own personal problem. If I need to, I’ll go on a Twitter rant and tell them this myself. I want you on stage with me or else I’m not doing it either.”
Harry breathes out through his nose, pressing his lips together as he stares back at you, probably realizing you are dead serious about pulling out of the performance and he is right. He doesn’t even know you were the first one to cancel on it, you’d do it again without hesitation.
“I guess we are performing then,” he cracks a small smile and throwing your arms around his neck you pull him down, lips smashing against his, the kiss mingling with giggles and smiles.
Harry wraps his arms tight around your waist, pulling you up from the ground as he spins you around, making you squeal as you hold onto him.
“I have to call Jeff to call the Grammy’s not to post the statement,” he hums against your lips and he pecks them a few more times before letting go of you to quickly make a call to his manager.
You move over to the couch in his living room as he talks to Jeff, who is luckily very understanding about the sudden change. Hugging your knees to your chest you watch him pace the floor, exchanging a few more words with the man on the phone before ending the call, his gaze dropping to you again. Sitting beside you, he kisses your temple, dropping an arm around your shoulders as you lean against him, head resting on his chest.
“I called my mom,” you drop the bomb suddenly and you can feel him tense up for a moment, probably shocked by your words.
“You did?”
“Yeah.” Lifting your head your gaze meets his as you carry on. “She was… very shocked to hear my voice.”
“I bet,” he hums. “What did you talk about?”
“I just… asked how they are doing and told her that I’ve been thinking a lot about them. She sounded genuinely touched by it and said I’m always welcomed for dinner or lunch if I’d like to see them.”
“That’s amazing! See, I told you they would love to hear from you!”
“Yeah,” you smile at him softly. “I think I want to go over sometime after the Grammy’s.”
“I’m sure it’s going to go well.”
“Would you please come with me?”
Your question catches him off-guard he seems surprised that you would want him there, but then his expression softens as he leans down and kisses your forehead.
“I would love to, if you want me there.”
“I do,” you nod.
“Then it’s settled,” he smiles warmly as you lay your head back to his chest, his fingers gently dancing up and down your arm and for once in your life you finally feel settled, like everything is going to be fine.
Highlights of the 63rd Annual Grammy Awards: Y/N Y/L/N blows up stage with new hit duet
The killer duo surprised us all with a brand new duet titled Floating Through Space, performed it together on their big night. Wearing matching galaxy themed suits, Y/L/N and Styles have closed off the evening with probably the most success, the latter winning two out of his three nominations, receiving the award for Best Music Video and Best Pop Vocal Album with his latest album, Fine Line, while Y/L/N was titled best new artist, becoming a Grammy winner early in her career.
Tabloids blew up earlier this month when the two singers were photographed cozied up at dinner with friends, speculations started about their possible romance, but Y/L/N has made a clear statement on the question with her red carpet appearance before the award show. Wearing a head to toe black Gucci gown paired with a dramatic cape, the message “I’M AN ARTIST, ASK ME ABOUT MY ART” painted onto it in red, making a bold statement about her opinion on the way the media has been treating the star.
Both singers remained silent on their alleged romance, but proved to be the best of their time with their joined performance with their new emotional duet. Following the song’s debut on stage it was released to the public as a single right away, taking over all charts with its overwhelming success.
Listen to Floating Through Space now on Spotify and Apple Music!
Your knuckles are turning white from the tight grip on the steering wheel as you stare up at the home you grew up in. It looks almost the same, sometime through the years you haven’t been around your parents have painted it a light blue color from the paste yellow, but it’s still… the same.
“Hey.”
Turning to your right you look at Harry who is smiling at you warmly as his hand reaches over and squeezes your knee gently.
“It’s going to be fine. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you, you’re still their daughter.”
“That’s not what they told me the last time I was here,” you whisper, feeling your throat closing up.
“We all say things in the heat of the moment. Seeing how happy they were about this lunch proves that they regret what happened.”
Nodding you take a deep breath to get ready for whatever is going to happen. Leaning over the console you pull Harry in for a kiss and it calms your nerves a little. Getting out of the car he takes your hand and squeezes it to let you know he’ll be right by your side all along. As you walk up to the front porch a sense of strong nostalgia washes over you.
You didn’t have a bad childhood, your parents provided you so much growing up, it’s sad to think what it has become. In a way you feel more anxious than walking the red carpet a week ago for the Grammys even though you’re just meeting your parents, but this is a turning point in your life that needed to come sooner or later.
“I’m right here, baby. It’s going to be fine,” Harry murmurs, kissing your forehead before you ring the doorbell, feeling weird that you come here as a guest, not as someone who belongs here.
You hear footsteps approaching on the other side, two frames appear through the clouded glass of the front door and then it flies open, pushing all air out of your lungs, clinging tightly onto Harry’s hand. There’s a moment of silence and just staring at each other before the tiniest smile tugs on your lips.
“Hi mom, hi dad.”
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!
#harry#styles#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles imagine#harry styles fiction#harry styles au#harry styles angst#harry styles fluff#harry styles smut#harry styles x you#harry styles x reading#harry styles x y/n
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Moment Eight
The first time one of them said I love you! Another for Moments With Sebastian
1-2-3-4-5-6-7 -9
18+ Only please! Warnings: Language mostly. If you'd like more head on over to My Masterlist
It was strange to be on the other end of the waiting game, wondering when you’ll be home and hoping you have time to call him that day.
The other day he went for a run in your neighborhood if only to look up at your window and wish you were inside.
His phone buzzed, jerking his feigning attention from the movie to see your face light up the screen.
Seb grinned when he slipped the video open, “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
You rolled your eyes, “Please like you’re supposed to be awake.”
“How did it go?” He shifted, leaning into the armrest of the couch, feet propped up as he watched you stretch.
“Pretty well, we did location shots today,” You waggled your eyebrows at him, “I got to be a murder victim for once. In the morning they’re wanting to do the asylum shots and then I’m done. Babe, I agreed to do this for a friend, but I should have booked a hotel or something. My back? Not made for a couch anymore.” You made a face, nose scrunched up, and behind your head, Seb could see the arm of a blue couch tucked under your own red pillow.
“You’re not even thirty yet.”
“It’s the miles, not the year, Baby, and I’ve put a lot of miles on this puppy.” He laughed, barking out loud. He missed you so much it hurt.
“You’re going to get some sleep, right?” He could see the strain behind your eyes, the long hours getting to you, and no amount of de-puffer could cover it up.
“I took some sleeping pills. I’ll be okay and before we know it, I’ll be back home in my bed where I belong.” A dreamy look filled your eyes, your gaze falling right off the camera. Seb took a screenshot, winking as you glared at him.
“Would you like me to be in bed with you or is this a solo dream?”
You huffed, “You have a key now, by all means, crawl into bed scaring both my roommates and our cats. It’ll be a lovely thing to come home to.”
“Jedi adores me, as does Wes.”
“Bart and Lumi?”
“I think both of them secretly hate everyone you’re just pretending they don’t. When I had to come over to help you move your new frame in, I thought Lumi was going to pour hot coffee down my shirt and I’m pretty sure both Them and Bart hissed at me.”
You laughed, slower, eyes closing and a soft hum drawing out the sound, “I miss you.”
Seb smiled, “I miss you too.”
“What if-” You bit your lip, eyes closing again, longer this time before you opened them, “I didn’t go straight home when I got back?”
His heart pounded, a shiver of excitement went through his body, “Oh?”
A shrug, “I could get a cab back to your place — curl up in bed with you.”
He watched the nervousness fill your eyes, lip being tugged between your teeth as you tried to keep yourself stoic, “I agree,” He started, “that you should do that.”
You smiled, a blush painting your cheeks, and Seb couldn’t think straight, “You’re beautiful.” The phone dropped the only view was the ghost on your nightshirt as Seb heard you groaning over the line.
“One of these days you’ll get used to the compliments.” He joked, grinning as you came back into view and glared at him.
“It’s not so much the compliments as the man saying them, Stan.” Your nose wrinkles up as you stick your tongue out at him, “If we should call anyone of us beautiful it's you. Those eyes? Those lips? God damn.” You fanned your face, biting your lip, and Seb rolled his eyes.
“Okay, Mackie 2.0 take it down a notch or my ego might explode.” He missed your laugh.
Hell, he missed all of you.
“Two more months and your extended warranty expires.” You joke, teeth flashing in the light from your phone.
Seb raised a brow, “Pretty sure it’s after five years that it expires.”
“Details. The subtlety was there, the finesse not so much. Anyway, two months and the second year is up, 365 days baby.” A nervous laugh followed by your hand gripping the back of your neck and Seb wanted to reach through the screen to remind you he wasn’t going anywhere; two years in and he was still as hooked as he’d been from day one.
“Any special request for the day?” You blinked.
“Puppets.”
Seb hissed, grabbing his chest, “Damn, you knew exactly what I wanted.” Again that laugh made his chest swell, your eyes crinkling around the edges and there it was the little snort he loved so much.
He knew he was falling in love with you nearly a year ago, but between his own issues and the ones you advertised with a neon sign both of you were careful not to say anything. Don’t push it, but every time you smiled at him, laughed at him, every time your hand brushed the back of his own or you were so frustrated at him you stormed away he wanted to shout it from the rooftops. Scream it loud enough the whole damn world would know that he loved you to the moon and back and anywhere in between.
Watching you settle down, Seb bit his lip, rolled his neck and cracked a smile at you, “Its getting pretty late, Sugar.”
A yawn and a stretch followed by a slow nod, “You get some sleep too, okay?”
“Absolutely, Dear. Goodnight.”
You blew him a kiss, lips puckered up, and exaggerated kissing noises crackled through the phone, “Goodnight, I miss you.”
Without really meaning to Seb took a breath in, sent a kiss back, and said, “I love you, sweet dreams.” and before your eyes could widen any further and you counteracted his words, he hung up the call and stared at the screen, waiting, counting down the seconds-
The Majesty: You S.O. B that was my gift to you!
Seb smiled, turned his phone off, and thunked his head on the back of the couch. Missing you with a wide-open hunger more now than ever.
***
I hope you all enjoy it and I'm always open to request if you would like to see a particular moment between these two!!
#sebastian stan#seb stan#sebastian stan fanfiction#sebastian stan fandom#sebastian stan x reader#Sebastian Stan x Nonbinary Reader#momentswithsebastian
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If I’m in pain you are gonna feel it (I never got to tell him I loved him and it’s your fault)
Tim yells at Clark because he’s sad and misses his best friend
It was quiet. Cassie and Tim stayed back, while everyone else went up to the house, sitting under the tree that gave shade to fresh turned dirt and concrete slab. The trunk of the tree wide enough that they could sit side by side and still lean back against it.
“Conner Kent,” Cassie read aloud the name on the tombstone, “the fact that that’s the name they went with makes me want to break the ugly thing.”
“Go for it,” Tim responded as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, willing the tears back in. He’s cried enough in front of people. “Maybe he’ll be offended enough that he comes back to tell you how rude it is to vandalize his grave.”
Cassie chuckled, “If anyone would come back from the dead because of a hurt ego, it’d be Kon.” A small, soft smile settled on both of their faces.
They sat in comfortable silence just being in each other’s presence. They were the only two left. It hurt, but at least they had each other. It was nice, comforting, to just see the other. To watch each other’s chest rise and fall, to see their eyes flutter, tired and sad, glazed over with tears, but full of life. The sun turned a warm red and the sky lit up in vibrant colors. It was beautiful. It reminded Tim that Kon would never be able to keep the promise of showing Tim the sunsets in Hawaii
“You wouldn’t believe it man!” Kon beamed, “the sunsets and sunrises are unreal. It’s like they are fake. Like some one, I don’t know, painted them. I don’t know how to describe it.” Kon sat next to Tim on the water tower in smallville. Kon had flown up there, the whole ‘not being able to be himself’ thing weighing heavy. So they sat on the tower and Kon talked and Tim listened. When the sun started to set Tim smiled and made a remark about how beautiful it was and how he doesn’t see sunsets a lot because Gotham and pollution and such. Which in turn, made Kon start gushing about Hawaii. Tim turned to give Kon his full attention, while Kon sat with his arms resting on the barricade, his legs hanging over the edge, and his eyes glued to the sky. “You gotta see it I swear.”
“I believe you.”
“No I’m serious. I want you to see it for yourself. One day I’m going to take you to see a sunset in Hawaii. That’s a promise.”
“I’ve got to head home.” Cassie’s voice breaking through the memories. “It’s been a long day, and it’s almost dark, I don’t want my mom to worry. Will you be okay? You can stay over at my place if you think your family will be to much.”
“Thanks Cass, but I’m okay.” Tim responded. A smile that didn’t reach his eyes settled in place. Like it belonged there. “I don’t think I’m through saying goodbye yet.”
Cassie simply smiled sympathetically. The look of his smile made her nauseous. She hurts too, so bad, but Tim has lost so many people already, she would give anything if she could just take his pain away. Seeing some one she loves in so much pain, knowing she can’t do anything about it, leaves her uneasy. As if she’s in pain for them. She wants to stay a little longer. Sit next to him, holding his hand, or resting her head on his shoulder, something to remind her that he’s still there, to remind him that she’s not going anywhere. She almost caved, sitting back down, staying with him till he was ready to go home. She even thought about going with him then too. Curling up in his too big bed, like how they all used to after a particularly difficult mission, leaving them feeling powerless and hopeless. All settled in one of their bedrooms, which ever was closest, just for the comfort of having other people around. They never talked, they just all silently got ready for bed and claimed a spot wherever was comfortable. However, she needed to get home to her mom, because as much as she loves Tim and wants to stick by his side, she really, really needs a hug from her mom right about now. To have her kiss Cassie’s head and tell her it’s okay, and that the pain just means that she cares.
She flies off, refusing to go up to the old house. To many memories of the four of them are stored in that rickety barn and yellow home. She doesn’t want them tainted by grief.
Tim watches her go. He leans his head back against the tree again. He was about to close his eyes when he heard footsteps approaching. He stood, perfectly ready to give whoever it was some privacy with Kon. Until Clark comes into view. An anger Tim didn’t even know he was harboring for the Kryptonian came bubbling to surface. Fast and Hot. He pushed against the tree to stand up right and tall.
“Are you proud yet?” He asked, venom dripping from every word. Clark turned to look at the boy briefly. Tim could see the guilt hanging heavy in his eyes. “He saved the world. Died a hero. That enough to convince you that he isn’t Lex? That he could be more than his DNA?”
“Tim-”
“No. I talk, you listen.” Tim spit. Clark recoiled, but stayed quiet. “You did nothing but push him away for absolutely no valid reason. What makes you think you have a right to stand here and grieve? When you were the one who made his life hell. For years, years Clark, I had to sit and listen as he doubted himself, doubted who he was, whether or not he was good, whether he was his own person. I watched him drive himself insane over his stupid DNA. Because of you, Clark! Because you couldn’t for three seconds consider that maybe, just maybe Kon is his own person. He had a mind, a beating heart, a soul, Clark, and you reduced him to a science experiment. You don’t get to stand here and act like this isn’t exactly what you wanted. Not when that stupid shield drug him down more than you could ever imagine”
“I tried-”
“YOU TRIED!? God Clark you can’t be this dense. The Kon you knew wasn’t even Kon! GOD! He changed everything about himself so that maybe, just maybe you would accept him! He died being a person he didn’t even recognize in the mirror. The clothes, that stupid t shirt and jeans, the hair cut, the glasses, his obviously dialed down personality. I can’t count how many times I listened to the same thing over and over, about how much he hated everything he had become, how didn’t feel like himself, how it was driving him insane. And every time I would tell him that there was nothing wrong with who he used to be and every time, every single time, he would respond with ‘Clark would disagree.’ All you did was change him into another version of you. Your opinion meant so much to him and you hardly even spared him a second thought. You wanna know how I know you didn’t try, because if you spent even five minutes talking to Kon like he was more than a clone bred to fight, you would know how much he hated Smallville. LOOK WHERE WE ARE STANDING! He couldn’t wait to get out of this place, and because you didn’t want to go through the, what, hassle? Of coming up with a story as to why he would be buried in someplace he liked. Buried in Hawaii? He is the in the one place that him feel even less of a person forever. God, Clark do you know how pathetic that is? How so royally fucked up that is? Do you know how angry he would be if he knew he had to spend eternity here? And yet you have the audacity to stand here and actually mourn him?.”
“I-”
“I’m not done talking. You don’t get to mourn some one you wished wasn’t alive in the first place. We both know the only reason it hurts you so much is because this perfectly crafted ‘knight on a white horse’ person you created just took a hit. God, I wish in everything that some one would knock you off of that damn high horse. I am so sorry your hero complex took a hit. I am so sorry that you have to be the villain for once. That you couldn’t save Kon, whether it was from prime or himself. I am so sorry that you worked so hard to make Kon into Clark 2.0 only to have him die. I am so, so sorry that you regret not getting to know him. But that’s on you and only you. And that guilt you’re feeling, the guilt of not being fast enough. Of not getting there in time. Of letting some one die. Of some one dying thinking that you hate them. I get it. Trust me, I get it. A hundred scenarios running through your mind about how it could have been different, how you could have saved him. How you could have done better. How you should have kept them closer. When you are laying there at night, your stomach curled in on itself, your blood ice cold. The hot tears pouring down your face as some cruel reminder that you can’t escape from this. The type of guilt that has you hunched over the toilet, choking on your vomit because you can’t stop sobbing long enough and you’re body won’t let you do both. You don’t panic, you think if I go I deserve it right? You put on the cape and become sloppy and reckless because if you make it out, if you are able to go home and take them off, the pain will set back in. That guilt that is all encompassing, that drags with you all day and all night. Cause no matter what, you can’t wake up. That guilt? I can tell you with a doubt is the worse feeling you will ever feel. And I truly mean it when I say that I hope you choke on it. I hope you scream for help and no one listens. I want you to know what it feels like to be in so much pain while surrounded by people who make a living helping people. I hope people you consider family ignore your suffering. I hope that pain seeps into your skin. I hope the sound of Kon hitting the ground rings in your ears. I hope the sound of his heart stopping replays on repeat.” Tim’s voice breaks, tears are flooding down his face he can’t see anything, but he doesn’t care. He is so angry that nothing else matters. His voice drops to barely a whisper “I wish Kon were here. I wish he could tell you this himself. I wish he could tell you himself how much it hurt to know that you would never love him.”
Tim walked off, up the dirt road that lead to Kent’s long driveway. He paused at the old worn mailbox, before deciding to just keep going. He trekked down the long dirt road, with no clue where he was going. He knew Bruce would come looking eventually. He found himself lying on the cold metal walkway of the old water tower. He just stared up at the stars, like he was waiting for Kon to appear out of the sky. He closed his eyes, tears still streaming down steadily and whispered the same thing over and over again. Maybe if he said it enough Kon would hear it.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
#dc comics#conner kent#(also cassie punches him but at a different time)#tim drake#clark kent is a bad dad#he gets better tho#i just like the angst sometimes#cassie sandsmark#if cassie was still there clark would have been doomed#poor timmy#i hated this#so i had to fix it#so here is a edited version#still not quite what i want#but its defiantly better#i also didnt tag this timkon#i dont know why#so#timkon
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Fluffember prompt: Bedtime
@gumnut-logic its ya boi again...
Day 10 of Isolation on Tracy Island 2.0
She regretted picking the extra strong coffee, both for what it did to Alan and the fact that, even though she said she felt fine, she couldn’t seem to make her eyes stay closed.
Alan had indeed drunk the entire jug of chocolate chip frappe masquerading as an innocent milkshake and it wasn’t just colours that were behaving weirdly for him. He seemed to be vibrating with hyperactive energy, bouncing around in a permanent state of alertness that I usually only saw from John or Scott when he’d been chugging those energy drinks to get his late night mission reports finished.
We tried everything to wear him out and settle him down, but it was like having an overly excited puppy with springs for legs trying to get your attention.
“Scott! Scott! SCOTTTT! Look what I can do!” he yelled and proceeded to plant his hands on the floor, flip his legs up into the air and try to run on his hands. He didn’t get far.
Scott’s groan of despair was so deep and heartfelt, I wondered if he might walk out and never return. I hadn’t heard that one since Brandon last came for dinner and told us all about how he'd abseiled for charity wearing a fluffy bear costume, which didn’t sound too bad until you heard that he hadn't been wearing anything underneath it. Apparently the suit was very hot and heavy so he had decided, after trying it on for a few practice descents on an indoor wall, to forgo what he considered unnecessary clothing. That would have been fine if he hadn’t caught the tail on a jagged rock and not noticed. Although, seeing his bare behind on a live stream had doubled the amount of donations that had poured in. Now he was planning to try naked skydiving and was trying to get us to join him. You can guess what the answer was to that.
“Come on, dudes, it’ll be like, totally extreme! Picture it, The Bear and the Boys, think of the publicity, man. You guys are like, thrill junkies, same as me. You’ll love it, the wind in your hair, adoration of millions of fans. It’ll be off the hook!” he’d rambled, getting far too excited for his own good. Scott had had to excuse himself and hide in his office for half an hour while Brandon talked excitedly to Alan about his latest videos. I left them to it too.
Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah, Alan...
“Alan will you stop!” Witchy yelled when he crashed sideways like a felled tree for the fourth time, almost taking out Gordon who was walking past, innocent for once.
“No! I can do this!” Alan protested, trying to right himself but just making it worse. “The world is upside down” he was lying on the floor at this point, “so if I make myself the same then the world will be right side up again! Simple.”
“No, not simple,” Scott groaned, helping pick Gordon up off the floor. “You need to calm down.”
“I am calm!” Alan protested. “I’m totally zen.”
I must say, his idea of zen is a lot different to mine.
Scott grabbed Alan’s legs and flipped him over, dragging him to his feet.
“Woah! Are you like a wizard or something? That was totally magical!”
"He's even starting to talk like him," Gordon mused, rubbing his elbow, sore from its collision with the side of my piano.
Witchy groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “It’s gonna be a long day, isn’t it?”
She wasn’t wrong.
It turned out that Alan hadn’t just magically appeared in the kitchen when he’d gotten hungry, no, he’d just woken up from a four hour nap and needed a drink. So, not only was he hyped up on enough caffeine to wake the dead (or John after a three day mission stint) but he was also stuffed full of sugar…
***
“Alan, it’s four in the morning, you have to settle down,” she begged, looking so worn out I thought she might keel over. I didn’t blame her, I felt roughly the same. Gordon had gone to bed hours before, as had Grandma, Kayo and Dad. I had stayed up because it was partly my fault that we were in this situation in the first place and Scott was up because he’s Scott and just has to be involved with everything.
“I can’t,” Alan argued. “I’m not tired.”
“We are!” she insisted. “You can’t stay up all night.”
“You sleep if you’re so tired,” he snapped back. He’d been doing that all day, flipping from adorably sweet and compliant to downright murderous in an instant, we were trying not to take it personally. “I’m not tired. I’m gonna call Brandon and chat to him if you guys don’t want me around.”
“No!” Scott jumped in before we could. He knew full well that if Alan spoke to Brandon in this state he’d agree to a million crazy schemes in a matter of seconds. He had to be protected for his own good.
"We do want you around," she argued. "But we also need to lie down before we fall down. So please, if you love me at all, stop trying to sneak off to eat more cookies and vegemite, because one, it's gross, and two…its gross. Where was I going with this?" she asked me, looking so confused I had to turn away so I didn't laugh.
“Do I even want to know what’s going on in here?” John asked, appearing in the doorway having apparently just arrived home. There were rules now, if he had finished his work and she was on the island he had to come home, no matter how late it was. EOS was perfectly capable of handling monitoring duty and most things could be coordinated remotely if it was needed, and if it couldn’t it only took eight minutes for his elevator to take him back. He had no excuse.
“Oh, thank the gods, I’m so tired and my eyes hate me, my eyelids are broken” she groaned, making grabby hands in his general direction which he ignored to stare at Alan.
“Alan drunk coffee,” Scott told him. “Their super strong coffee.”
“What? Why? Who was stupid enough to give him that?”
“No one, he helped himself, thought her frappe was a milkshake,” I told him.
“John! You’re home! This is great! Watch what I can do!”
“No!” Scott, Witchy and I all yelled at once.
“Maybe you should stay where you are,” John suggested, obviously wishing he’d stayed in space even if that did mean he’d get yelled at later.
“I don’t want to sit anymore, I’m bored.”
We all looked at John imploringly, he was the one that Alan would always listen to.
“Hey, Alan, do you wanna watch a movie?” John offered.
"Is that a good idea," Scott started, his expression clearly saying that he thought John was insane to even be thinking of it. We wanted Alan to settle and calm down, not get extra hyped from watching one of his action movies.
Alan stopped bouncing for a second, looking suspicious but also interested. “What movie?”
“Your choice, what was that one you’ve been asking us to watch for months, I can’t remember?” John made his way over to the couch and Witchy shifted over to make room for him, draping her legs over his the moment he sat down.
“The new superhero one?” Alan asked hopefully.
“Sure, we can do that one,” John agreed, sending me a small smirk when Alan dropped back down on the couch, ready to watch. I gave it two minutes before he’d be leaping up again and running off to jump in the pool or something.
For once Scott didn’t dare tell Alan it was too late to start watching anything or that he should be in bed, he was just grateful that Alan had stopped rolling around the floor pretending to be a turtle stuck on its back.
“Oh, yay, I’ve been wanting to see this,” Witchy said, perking up, apparently forgetting all about her rebellious eyes and tiredness, getting what she called her second wind. We all knew that one, when you had been up so long and were so tired that you had actually gone past the point of tiredness, past the point of being able to sleep and were suddenly wide awake again.
John started the movie, lifting his arm to drape it across her shoulders when she snuggled against his side, her arm sliding around his waist. Alan shifted too, dragging his movie blanket over his legs, wedging a cushion against her side so he could lean against it, clearly getting comfortable. Scott and I exchanged a look, maybe there was hope for this plan of John’s after all.
Ten minutes into the movie Alan moved to curl up to her, both of them leaning against John, squashing him into the side of the couch, but at least they were settled.
Another five minutes and she was yawning, her head dropping to rest against John’s shoulder.
“Tired, love?” John asked innocently, smiling softly to himself when she shook her head firmly, but soon, despite her protests, her eyes started that slow blink of a very tired person who is trying desperately to stay awake.
Alan yawned, pulling his blanket up to cover his shoulders and Scott risked a small smile in hope that he would soon be able to get some sleep himself. I didn’t blame him. The ironic part of this day was the fact that we had finished off all the other coffees to ensure we stayed awake longer than Alan.
Her eyes drooped, slowly closing but she snapped awake a moment later.
“I thought you wanted to watch this?” Scott teased her, earning himself a glare.
“I do, I am watching, look, eyes, facing the screen, watching.”
She might have said the words but her actions said otherwise.
“Shall we turn this off and watch it another day?” I asked when Alan’s head dropped forward although he instantly snapped to attention again.
“No, I’m watching it,” he answered stubbornly.
I lifted my hands in surrender and followed John’s lead, staying quiet and watching the movie.
“Why don’t we go to bed?” John murmured to her a little while later when she’d jerked herself awake for the third time.
“No, I’m not tired, I told you, I want to watch this.”
"You just fell-" Scott started but John cut him off with a warning eyebrow raise.
"I did no such thing," she grumbled, sitting up a bit straighter to prove her point. "I was watching."
“Of course you were,” John agreed placidly, not bothering to argue with her but I did notice that his fingers snuck into her hair, playing with a few strands. She sighed softly, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder as she watched the action on the screen, letting herself relax again.
She lasted another fifteen minutes before she stopped fighting her body's needs and closed her eyes, letting them stay closed.
A soft snore drew our attention and we turned from the projection to see Alan, mouth open, eyes closed, fast asleep. John shifted slightly, pulling witchy onto his lap, letting Alan's pillow slide down taking him with it. His hand snuck out, tugging at Alan’s blanket, pulling it up to cover his head.
We waited a few more minutes, sitting quietly, not wanting to risk breaking the fragile peace by waking them up, allowing them to settle deeper into sleep.
“OK, I think we’re good,” John whispered conspiritally.
“How did you know to do that?” Scott asked, shocked to the core that his standard approach of ordering followed by threats had failed on both his brother and his best friend, while John had sailed in and succeeded with minimal effort and without raising his voice once.
“They always do that,” John said, shrugging one shoulder so as not to disturb her. “She’s a woman, you can guarantee she’ll say she wants to watch a movie but she’ll fall asleep half way through, she always does. If she can’t sleep I'll just put an episode of something on and that usually does the trick.”
He pointed to Alan. “It’s the same with him. Who do you think he called in the middle of the night when he was thinking too much about homework or the million other things that teenagers seem to worry about? Tell him to pick a movie, cover him with a blanket and he’ll be out in minutes.”
“That’s…” Scott paused, unsure what to say. “Useful to know,” he finished.
"Arguing and pushing someone doesn't always work, you have to use your brain, assess the situation and pick your battles. Tired people are stubborn people."
"You can say that again," I muttered having dealt with my fair share of tired and stubborn family members, the two worst culprits being the ones currently talking.
“You take care of him, I’ve got her,” John nodded at Alan, smoothly changing the subject.
Scott helped me lift Alan who, although skinny, was growing lankier by the day, all long limbs and sharp elbows that you have to arrange carefully or risk dropping him. I took him to his room, putting him to bed then returned to fetch Scott.
“He still asleep”? Scott asked, still in his chair.
“Yep,” I answered. “He’ll be in for a surprise when he wakes up though, he hardly ever uses his bed. He'll think that he teleported again.”
"True enough," Scott chucked softly. "You need help with her?" He nodded at witchy, who hadn't moved.
"Nope, I got this, it's not my first time." With the ease of much practice he gathered her closer, sliding an arm under her legs, shuffled to the edge of the couch and got awkwardly to his feet. "You two should get some sleep too."
"We will," I assured him.
"Well, see you both in the morning," he said, heading to the door.
"Wait a second," I called and he paused. I grabbed the little notebook she'd left on the table, holding it up for him to see. "She hasn't filled this in today, you wanna take it?"
"She doesn't trust me," he shifted her slightly, rebalancing her in his arms, her face buried in his neck. "Not since last time, though I don't know what she expected when she told me to report what had happened, reports are for the facts, I did just that. If she'd wanted me to recall every single detail of the day she should have specified that. You write it."
"Sure, I can do that," I agreed, pocketing it.
"Night then."
"Night, John."
"Night, Scott."
"Goodnight."
Three down, one to go.
"Come on, bro, all your chicks are nested, now it's our turn," I said, patting his shoulder as I passed. "Even smother hens have to sleep some time."
"Yeah, yeah, I know, " he grumbled, yawning loudly, stretching as he got to his feet, too tired to even protest the hated nickname. "Bedtime."
#alantracy#Virgil Tracy#Scott Tracy#John Tracy#Isolation Island#isolation#Thunderbirds in isolation#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#thunderbirds 2015#thunderbirds fanfiction
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1, 4, 14, 19, &22?
1. answered here
4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)
here’s a long excerpt from ch2:
“The Young Eddie who dreamed of seeing the stars, would pull at his hand and beg him to say yes. That kid, filled with endless hope, would point to the skies with never ending wonder.
High School Eddie poured hours of research into this idea, this fantasy of going beyond. He would smack the doubt out of Eddie’s head and make the easy choice for him.
College Eddie was different, he was realistic. No more fantasies and unreachable dreams. Recruiters on one shoulder, and a family he didn’t plan for on the other. But in his hands he held a physics degree and an enlistment form.
Air Force Eddie ran away. He didn’t fight a war because he was brave, he fought because he was scared of what he was coming home to; a girlfriend who no longer loved him like she used to, and a kid he couldn’t bear to disappoint. Air Force Eddie stared at the stars, and accepted their distance. The stars watched him kill; their gaze still burns.
Somewhere in the bridge between now and then lived a different Eddie. The dad who didn’t know how to do right by his kid, the soldier who worked three jobs to stay afloat, the man who left a part of himself in Afghanistan and never fully returned. Now there’s Astronaut Eddie who fought for a goal, and felt guilty for reaching it.”
in the show buck always refers to himself in phases: buck 1.0, 2.0, so on. i said fuck it, what are the phases of eddie ? how would eddie feel about his past, present, and future self ?
14. At what point in writing do you come up with a title?
right before i post it
19. Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?)
i’ll interrupt a description with dialogue let me find an example of that WAIT
“Five steps. Five baby steps followed by one giant leap for mankind. One month and he’d—
“—Are you interested in joining the United States Armed Forces?”
Oh, fuck off.”
22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?
none of my old writing is still on the internet but sometimes i read old wips and get kinda sad because they’re not bad i just ran out of ideas
meta asks for fic writers
#THIS ASK GAME IS REALLY FUN I LOVE TALKING ABOUT MYSELF#thank you lukas !!#ask game#transbucke#austin answers
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Best of Marvel: Week of January 15th, 2019
Best of this Week: Iron Man 2020 #1 - Dan Slott, Christos Gage, Pete Woods and Joe Caramagna
This shouldn't work, but oddly enough it does.
Machine life forms in the Marvel Universe have a complicated history in terms of their status as sentient beings and whether or not they feel as humans do. Ultron has always displayed a rage and hatred towards humanity and the Avengers in particular not dissimilar to any number of human or alien enemies of these heroes. On the flip side of that, Machine Man, since his original comic series and until his newfound prejudice against meatbags, has always sought to show just how human that he is in the face of anti-robot discrimination. (see Machine Man, 1978)
This conflict was on full display in Tom King’s amazing Vision (2015) series which saw Vision feared for building a robotic family and trying to live a human life. While robots and AI based beings aren’t nearly as hated and reviled as mutants, Dan Slott’s Iron Man series has been building to this - a human/robot war spurred on by Tony Stark’s brother Arno. Though he’s not quite the Arno Stark from 1984’s Iron Man 2020, he still sees a future in peril from an as of yet unknown technological threat.
Pete Woods opens this book with Arno having a nightmare in the form of a planet sized being that looks like they’re composed of circuits and death. Woods colors the lights of the creature with an eerie purple tone that accentuates its darker purple-ish exoskeleton. Arno appears almost as an insect by comparison as he floats towards this. All of this is made even creepier by Joe Caramagna’s use of stilted, robotic lettering to give the creature a cold and calculated voice of doom. When we do get a close up of Arno’s face, he is stricken with fear.
Arno’s been up to a lot in the background of Tony’s adventures in the Tony Stark: Iron Man series from the last year. He’s resurrected his dead parents sing the same method and technology that Tony did after Carol Danvers killed him (and she DID kill him), he’s taken up the mantle of Iron Man after Tony revealed himself to have been an advanced AI in the form of Tony Stark and he’s found himself a partnership with the money hungry Sunset Bain, who’s now in control of Stark Unlimited after Tony’s revelation. Arno’s been a busy man.
On top of all of this, spilling out of The Ultron Agenda, there’s a crisis among the people over the uprising of machines which Arno eggs on by calling even the most advanced ones lifelike simulations.Janet van Dyne tries to quell the fears and James Rhodes can’t be bothered to talk to the press as he also has robot matters to deal with. One of the first conflicts that Slott and Gage present us with is a hostage situation in which Life Model Decoys of the original Nick Fury try to liberate construction bots. Woods frames it as a dangerous situation with one of the LMDs holding the site manager as a human shield. The numbers of the LMDs look intimidating until Iron Man appears.
Pete Woods does an amazing job in revamping the original 2020 armor for the modern day. Arno looks like a terror with his almost Ultron like faceplate and even more ridiculously oversized gears as shoulder pieces. He retains the standard Iron Man colors and even homages the original golden legs by placing armor over the front of his legs. I would have preferred that all of the leg be gold, but Woods still does well with the redesign and the pose that he gives Arno when he appears - blowing the head off an LMD with lethal force.
Arno quashes this rebellion easily enough, but somehow all of the robots manage to escape. Tensions continue to rise and the same thing happens when anti-robot forces invade a secret robot bar and they manage to escape again. We then find out that one of the heads of the Robot Rebellion is Machine Man (Aaron Stack). Both Machine Man and Arno Stark were the feature characters in the original Iron Man 2020 story so it’s great that Slott and Gage recognized that and revitalized their history in this new story. The potential for their eventual conflict to end in much the same way is pretty tantalizing in my eyes as Machine Man defeats Arno at one point in that original story.
Though, I have to admit that both sides in this story have some NEFARIOUS ways of taking the fight to one another. In an effort to draw out the Robot Resistance, Sunset Bain and Arno blow up a robotics factory after buying it out. Woods draws Aaron with genuine shock and anguish as he watches the explosion on the screen and it really sells how much pain this is causing. After the broadcast, Sunset and Arno look at the rubble as a necessary evil to stop Stack and his followers.
In retaliation, however, Machine Man WIRES A BOMB TO A MATERNITY WARD. I’m usually on board with Robot Rights, even advocating for better AIs in sex dolls, but this is the thing that people are afraid of and Aaron is only stoking the flames of fear here. It’s a reckless move that won’t garner support for the Robot Rights Movement, if anything Arno is just going to fight back against Machine Man and the Resistance even harder out of fear of his nightmare.
Woods draws an amazing stare down between Machine Man and Arno, neither of them really having eyes to blink with. Machine Man gives Arno an ultimatum; either let him and the poor bomb disposal robot escape or the bomb goes off. In five panels, we see the character of both. We get ne close up shot of Arno’s plated eyes with rain pouring down on him and similar shot of Machine Man, then we get a third person perspective with the bomb on one side and Machine Man on the other. Arno takes the bomb and Aaron taunts him as he flies away. It’s tense and the lack of dialogue makes it far more serious than expected from the mostly comedy character that Machine Man has become.
Arno also tried to warn Aaron of what was coming, but I understand why he didn’t want to listen. For whatever reason Slott gave Arno a sudden-ish character change either in a recent Iron Man annual or a little while before a rogue AI invaded Tony’s eScape (2019?). Arno was initially helpful and supportive of his brother and robots like Jocasta, but then all of a sudden he became withdrawn and kind of a dick. This version of Arno had been locked away, unable to move without machines until Tony found him and tried to reintroduce him into the world (Iron Man, 2013), so maybe Slott and Gage are building on his use of the Extremis virus for movement to explain the change?
Alternatively, this is all just a way to retell the original Iron Man 2020 story as Arno inadvertently created the threat he went back in time to stop in that story because he refused to take a moment to see how damaging his actions were and that same recklessness is on full display here with Arno 2.0.
All in all, this story was pretty weird and fantastic. I doubt it will reach the heights of the philosophical masterpiece that is Nier: Automata in regards to it’s “can machines feel human too” themes, but Slott and Gage are doing their best and that gives us a fan story with lots of callbacks to the past. Pete Woods pencils, coloring and inking are phenomenal here and make this book visually appealing. His style and heavy hitting action give the proper weight that an Iron Man story needs and his updated 2020 Armor isn’t bad at all. This one is absolutely a high recommend.
#iron man#iron man 2020#arno stark#tony stark#machine man#marvel comics#robot rights#dan slott#christos gage#pete woods#joe caramagna#comics#comic review
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107 Nikandros ( saying it to Auguste?)
“Your ass is gonna be seven different shades of red after that little stunt”
Mist says Rare Pair Rights, 2.0, Captive Prince edition. Also known as: @linecrosser, @nikanndros, your Augandros anon escaped and came to get me, come and take them back. However, let’s show people how NOT fading sex scenes to black is done ( @niniblack called me out yesterday)Long, partially under the cut and E-rated!
From this prompt list!
The door of Nikandros’s quarters opened with that unique way that could only accompany Auguste in his entrance–never subdued like a servant or somewhat ready to fall in line, but still carefully analytical. Maybe, in another life before Nikandros had known him, he was the kind of man to walk into rooms like he own them regardless of who waited on the other side.
Nikandros turned around on his chair, away from the sunlight that bathed his desk crowded with papers. He was already smiling without being able to help it.
“Your ass is gonna be seven different shades of red after that little stunt”
Auguste moved even more carefully than usual in closing the door behind him, a little grimace on his face–considerably less gaunt than when Nikandros had found him, handsome in a distracted way.
“I’m aware of it…we can call it the price of raising the new generations.”
After having watched Auguste with a flock of children of soldiers, all aged between five and eight years old, for the best part of the last two hours, Nikandros could not help but laugh.
“Does that qualify as training in Vere?” he asked, without even trying to hide his amusement.
“That qualifies as mutiny,” Auguste replied, hard-suffering but not cross, as he divested most of his garments and his shoes to give himself a wash at the basin.
Nikandros laughed away, helplessly.
“Is that how you spent your time up here?” Auguste asked, “Laughing at my woes rather than working?”
“That’s mostly accurate, yes.”
At first it had been just the over-excited shrills of the children–entertained and delighted by this foreign man paying them attention. Then it had been the general commotion, brought upon by all the kids breaking any rank Auguste had tried to organise them in to gang up on him. Auguste had taken it with the same good humour that made Nikandros think he must have been a cherished older brother–one his family would want back at any cost, if only they knew he was alive. Still, “the mutiny” involved a whirlpool of tiny humans, reaching no higher than Auguste’s waist, all armed with with wooden swords and aiming them anywhere they could reach–a general area from the middle of Auguste’s thighs and his ass.
Auguste was going to be sore–and bruised.
“Let me give a look at you,” Nikandros said, beckoning Auguste with an outstretched hand.
Auguste folded the wet towel he had been using, neatly, next to the basing. “I’m sure it’s fine, it won’t be worse than days riding at forced pace during a campaign.”
Still, he came forward, fitting neatly between Nikandros’s spread legs–golden and bare-chested in the early afternoon light. Nikandros remained seated and placed a kiss at the centre of Auguste’s stomach–growing taut and strong by the weeks, health and nourishment giving strength back to his muscles. Those same muscles jumped under the touch of Nikandros’s lips, and it was nice to know that he had Auguste’s full, unchallenged attention.
“Better now than, regretfully, tomorrow,” Nikandros argued–knowing that he didn’t really need to–while undoing the laces of Auguste’s breeches.
He heard Auguste swallow a bit, a small ripple of sensitivity running all the way to his cock, making it twitch even under perfunctory touches. Nikandros guided him to turn around with a small nudge on his hips and Auguste went easily, with his trousers caught at knee-height and his ass in full display–but just for Nikandros to see.
There were, indeed, some red lines immediately evident on Auguste’s skin, crossing over in the clumsiest pattern. It all promised to swollen up quickly.
“They really put an effort into it,” Nikandros considered, with a low chuckle, running the back of his fingers up and down Auguste’s thighs with both hands. “If I hadn’t seen how they love you I would have thought this to be a malicious attack.”
“I told you it’s fine,” Auguste replied, two seconds later, without articulating as he usually would.
“That doesn’t mean it couldn’t be better.”
Nikandros argued, picking up a jar of oil from his desk that came with the indistinct use of chapped hands in the winter and sharpening actual blades of paper cutter. He poured some on his hands, rubbing it together, and felt Auguste stiffening to stillness even before Nikandros went back at touching him–slippery, now, soothing.
It wasn’t a bad tension–more like anticipating.
Looking at Auguste all too intently–and feeling tighter in his own trousers by the minute–Nikandros commented inanely on the kids, what they knew of their families, what were his own memories with them if he had any. It was the type of chat Auguste enjoyed, normally. But now he mostly hummed back to Nikandros without any real meaning, agreeable sentences that had the feeling of a placeholder.
“Are you ignoring me?” Nikandros asked, suddenly, with the oil mostly absorbed on Auguste’s skin–looking less red already.
“No!” Auguste protested, but flinched minutely under Nikandros’s knuckles brushing at the curve of his cheeks. “You’re just…being very distracting.”
Nikandros felt himself smiling, feeling more smug than he did as a teenager at the King’s court, when the world had seemed at his disposal.
“I’m holding a leisured conversation,” he countered, in a clearly fake protest. “If I wanted to be distracting, I would do this.”
Before Auguste could reply, Nikandros took hold of both of his cheeks, spreading them wide enough to kiss between them–where Auguste was warm and a little bit giving, having taken Nikandros just the night before.
Auguste moaned brokenly, and pushed back against Nikandros’s mouth with that flattering brand of shamelessness that only a Veretian could have in the middle of the day. There was no need to reach around to know that Auguste was hard–the trembling on uncertain stance sufficed.
Nikandros licked at his entrance with more persistent than patience, feeling to eager in himself for the way he wiggled his index finger inside just so he could thrust his tongue alongside it.
“Nik!…”
The hitching sound was far from a protest, and so was the hand that reached back to grasp on Nikandros’s shoulder–a mixture between a gesture of passion and an attempt on balancing on trembling knees.
Taking it as the encouragement it was, Nikandros gave Auguste another finger, scissoring them lightly to lick deeper inside.
He wasn’t fluent enough in Veretian to know all of their convoluted, creative swearing, but Nikandros knew the tone of a profanity when he heard one. He smiled against Auguste’s body, hearing him running his mouth.
And yet there was sort of a tension, uncertain, that still refused to leave Auguste’s body.
“You’re very tense,” Nikandros murmured, kissing at Auguste’s tailbone and keeping his fingers knuckle deep. He sounded hoarse even at his own ears. “You can relax.”
Auguste laughed under a weavering breath. “Easier said than done, I’m facing some very official-looking papers and correspondence.”
The mental picture of Auguste holding himself carefully still to be licked without soiling Nikandros’s work burned the residual edge out of Nikandros’s control.
He unfolded his chiton, one-handedly, his own cock all too eagerly jutting up when freed.
“Come here, then.”
Nikandros took his fingers out and pulled Auguste back towards him, one arm circling his waist. And Auguste just went, without even questioning–the weight of him pressing Nikandros down on the chair when he seated on his knees.
“Oh f-…”
Auguste broke off with a moan, with Nikandros’s erection teasing his rim–not quite surprised, but shaking at the sensation of it. But he was spit-slick and open and it was all too easy for Nikandros to hold him tighter and thrust his cock in.
He was halfway in when Auguste clenched around him, nails digging in Nikandros’s forearm, mindlessly. Nikandros just held him tighter and guided Auguste to lean against his chest–his cock all the way inside him.
“Wait!…ah…waitwait…”
The mumbling was fairly incoherent but Nikandros stilled, catching all the signals of an overwhelmed Auguste. So sensitive to any contact, so close to orgasm. Nikandros wanted to touch him all over and see him go out of his mind with it, but he waited.
Auguste’s effort in rolling back from the edge was valiant, shivering on Nikandros’s lap and breathing shallowly. It was also partially pointless, because just nosing his head around to claim Nikandros’s mouth rose goosebumps all over.
When they moved, they moved at Auguste’s call, rocking back and for on Nikandros’s lap while Nikandros held him tight–then tighter–and dared kissing between Auguste’s shoulder blades even though the resulting choked wailing almost made him feel guilty.
“Oh, that’s so good,” Auguste hissed between clenched teeth.
“Yes?” Nikandros sighed, pulling Auguste’s back with more purpose and lodging exactly on that spot that made Auguste clench so deliciously.
Auguste moaned, nodding blindly, and came all over himself–quick to rail up and slow to calm down. It was all too easy to follow him, in plain light of day, releasing deep inside.
They stayed on that chair for all too long, disheveled like youngsters in their prime. Even when Nikandros slid out of Auguste, he still rearranged him on his lap, to catch his breath properly. Auguste’s forehead frowned, slightly, when the movement made him rub again against the fabric of the chiton, but then relaxed.
“I apologise, I hope I didn’t make it worse,” Nikandros admitted, a bit sheepishly.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” Auguste replied, flopping down on Nikandros’s shoulders with his full weight and very little restriction–sore and bruised or not.
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A Better Future: Arrow 7x15 Review (Training Day)
Look out for Episode 7x15!!! She came out dancing like, “Nobody puts Baby in a corner!”
There are so many goodies I don’t know where to start. Well, obviously I know where to start. We’re going to obsess over every detail. But first, I must ask if anyone survived the 7x16 promo? Cause I didn’t. This is Ghost Jen.
Let’s dig in….
Olicity
This pregnancy is waaaaaaay more fun now that Oliver knows. Seriously this episode is straight out of fanfiction.
Oliver mostly just wants to feed Felicity things I can’t even pronounce.
What the heck is a tartine and who sautés broccolini? You know what? I don’t even care. Oliver can cook whatever he wants as long as he’s naked. Yes, those are the marital provisions. You may turn to page 21 in the marriage contract if you need proof. It’s in bold.
Source: olicitygifs
See guys? We’re not the only ones quietly unnerved by fully-realized-Jesus-like-superhero Oliver. He’s giving Felicity the wiggins too.
When was the last time Oliver took orders from anyone? Nope. You can’t say Felicity. She’s the wifey and pregnant. I feel extremely confident if she asked Oliver to nuke a country he’d do it and then roast her a turkey over the fires of destruction.
Oliver is going the extra mile with the SCPD because he wants the partnership to be legitimate for “our baby.”
Is there anything sexier than Oliver talking about the incubating human he put in his wife? NOPE THERE IS NOT.
First time I died. Yes, we’re numbering it.
Immediately, Oliver mentions William and his reasoning for listening to the SCPD’s buffoon orders is understandable.
Oliver missed out on ten years of William’s life and being a vigilante hasn’t made their present day relationship any easier. Re: William got the hell out of dodge and is living with the most evil grandparents in the world. Come on. We know they are kinda evil. WHO ERASES A FATHER’S PHONE MESSAGE? At the very least they are hyper helicopter grandparents, which is a hop, skip and a jump away from Evil Town.
Oliver is extremely glass half full right now.
I guess this is what happens when THE PRINCESS THAT WAS PROMISED is about to arrive. I love Felicity’s mildly exasperated expression as Oliver’s waxes poetically about this partnership. Listen girl, you turned him into this big pile of mushy rainbows. Not us.
Source: olicitygifs
Does anyone else scream, “SPOILER ALERT: EVERYTHING IS AWFUL IN THE FUTURE!!!” every time Oliver talks about making the city safe for their children, so they can live in Star City and be happy? No? Just me? The dude deserves a heads up. The writers sure aren’t giving him one. It’s like salt in an open wound whenever Oliver dreams of Star City becoming Disney World 2.0. WRONG SHOW OLIVER.
This is the show where the writers bludgeon us with misery and only give us joyful moments as a brief respite from our pain and sorrow.
Too bitter?
Felicity gets on board with the glass half full approach because ain’t nothing cuter than her man being all sunshine and rainbows.
Source: olicitygifs
After all, they are a team within and team. Then comes all the smooching and we’re only in the first 5 minutes. Second time I died.
Oliver totally looked at Felicity’s stomach when she said she didn’t want anyone knowing about what’s happening “in here” and his little amused smile was so much I cannot.
Felicity’s right about mum’s the word and not because they are vigilantes, although that is a thing. It’s best to wait until the first trimester is over before making any big announcements.
Source: oliverxfelicity
Oliver agrees, Felicity actually says, “Yay,” and then asks him to make her a tartine.
Source: smoakmonster
Starving and nausea sum up my first trimester too, girl. Third time I died.
Felicity pregnant ratchets up her adorable factor by at least 80%.
Source: felicitysmoakgifs
This woman breathes and I’m like
I also love how Oliver is the only person who knows why her rambling is so extra and reels her in. Team within a team is damn right.
The SCPD pours out Oliver’s half full glass because they are annoying and stupid. The team needs to adhere to protocol or else. Ugh why do we have to listen to the cops? They don’t have cool toys.
Felicity convinces Oliver they simply need to show the SCPD the Team Arrow way and they’ll stop with all the red-tape-need-actual-evidence-court-of-law nonsense.
It sounds good, particularly coming from Felicity. I’m at the same point as Oliver. I think this woman could tell me the sky is purple and I’d rock some “Purple Rain.”
If Arrow wants do a show where Oliver cooks for Felicity while she shares all her pregnancy symptoms as they smooch and be adorable in their little incubating love nest I would be completely fine with that because it's Emmy award winning television.
Source: oliverxfelicity
Why does the show have to be over? It’s perfect. Fourth time I died.
Olicity continues with their team within a team approach and decide to bring James Midas in on their own. They do it the old fashioned way. (HAHAHA that sounds dirty. Sorry. I’m a 10 year old trapped in a 37 year old body.) Oliver goes full on growly, burly man in leather and threatens to melt Midas’ face off in a tub of hydrofluoric acid. Stephen Amell’s facial reactions are hysterical. Oliver is almost bored like, “Come on, come on, I have tartines to make and a baby to name.”
Source: @smoacs
Felicity records the confession while complaining about people like me who don’t click update. I’m perfectly fine with bae owning my ass. Fifth time I died.
But the mayor cuts Midas loose because his confession was coerced. Is that a thing we care about on Arrow now? I guess we’re doing the whole Miranda rights, due process, warrants, evidence, chain of custody thing. Huh. So… how’d they prosecute all the other criminals for the last seven years?
I’m also willing to venture the mayor is slightly evil if she’s big buddies with a guy like Midas. WHO FUNDED HER CAMPAIGN?
Uncle Diggle is wondering why his OTP is going rogue, so he swings by for a little chat. His Yoda senses are on high alert.
This is why they had to make Diggle normal again. Pod Diggle would never suss out an Olicity pregnancy. I love how Oliver and Felicity are all, “WE AREN’T TELLING ANYONE,” and then Diggle shows up, asks one question, and they fold.
You can’t lie to Yoda. Thems the rules.
Diggle ships this ship harder than anybody else. He practically willed this child into existence.
Source: oliverxfelicity
It’s possible he’s more excited than Oliver when Felicity tells him the news. The “we’re having a baby” absolutely includes John Thomas Diggle too. Sixth time I died.
We have to go over this moment in particular because @lyricalarrow mentioned it in a tweet and I cracked up because it is so true.
Where is the lie? Oliver looks at the ground, crosses his arms, and shuffles his feet whenever he feels shy or bashful. It’s like he’s a little embarrassed Diggle knows they have sex.
Meanwhile, the hot little mama over there with her hip wiggle is more than comfortable letting Diggle know his boy knocked her up. Hilarious perfection.
Honestly, I understand Oliver’s reaction here because I felt the same telling my parents I was pregnant. They high fived, but I was a little embarrassed there was physical evidence of my sexual activity with my husband. It’s cool. I feel confident they decided my daughter was the Immaculate Conception. Everyone is very comfortable with that story.
This announcement also leads to Diggle’s rapid understanding of why Oliver and Felicity are acting like they are on a clock, because THEY ARE ON A CLOCK. Their child will be born into Disney World come hell or high water. THY NAME IS OLICITY AND THY WILL BE DONE!
Like I said, it sounds good on paper, but Diggle comes prepared with logic. Oliver and Felicity understandably have baby on the brain, but they aren’t thinking their rogue plan through. It’ll work for a little while, but then Oliver will land in Slabside again. Yeah, I don’t want to go back to Slabside. I want to keep doing all the baby stuff. Whatever keeps us doing the baby stuff is the plan I favor.
The truth is if the Team Arrow way worked 100% then Star City would be saved. Same goes for the SCPD. Yes, let us casually ignore the writers will not allow the city to be saved until the final episode because that’s just details. What needs to happen is a combo approach. Ya know like an actual partnership.
Diggle: You have to find a way to make it work. Comprise. Do whatever you have to do because if you want a new future for this baby of yours it won’t come by doing the same thing we used to do. We have to be something else. Something better.
Is this the first time Diggle has said the, “Be something else” line?” I feel like it is. If so, it’s a momentous occasion. Every part of the OTA trio has officially given a “Be Something Else” speech. Jeez, this show really is ending isn’t it?
After saving the day while working in partnership with the SCPD, Team Arrow reconvenes in their home away from home. BUNKER IS BACK BABY!!!!!!!!!!! Thank goodness. I am so sick of the police department. It lacks flair.
The team wants to grab a beer to celebrate, which feels like the first time this suggestion has ever happened other than Diggle and Oliver tossing back some vodka or scotch. What’s with all the alcohol? Cause Felicity is pregnant, and these writers want to create as many situations as possible where it can be referenced.
I honestly think Oliver just went to the bar to keep the cover. Cue super sweet winking.
Source: lucyyh
Seventh time I died.
Diggle isn’t done being amazing. I MISSED HIM SO MUCH Y’ALL. He brings Felicity ginger candies to help with the morning sickness. In my fic “Broken Pieces” it was saltine crackers. Seriously, how many of us have written fics where A) Diggle figures out Felicity is pregnant and B) he helps her with the morning sickness because he learned a few things while Lyla was pregnant?
Yeah that’s what I thought. Nobody gets to tell me this episode isn’t straight out Olicity Ficville. I. LOVE. IT. Eighth time I died.
He also stokes the Smoak Tech fires by complimenting Felicity on her technology and generally being a total bad ass while pregnant.
SEE? SHE CAN DO BOTH PEOPLE.
Hold up. Rewind. Is that my girl shading Curtis Holt?
HAHAHA! YES IT IS!!!!!!!!!!! THIS EPISODE IS AMAZING!!!!!
We know this DNA security program she’s developed is what eventually becomes the Archer program, so I am very curious to see how it gets up and running.
Source: felicitysmoakgifs
I think one word from Diggle is all it’s going to take.
FELICITY ASKED OLIVER IF SHE’S SHOWING. THE WRITERS HAVE KILLED ME DEAD EIGHT TIMES ALREADY? WHAT IF I ONLY HAVE NINE LIVES? MAYBE I’M REALLY A CAT!!!!!
Source: olicitygifs
Honestly, they’ve nailed the first trimester: nausea, starvation, exhaustion, and wondering if you’re showing when you are absolutely nowhere near showing. Ninth time I died.
And then… Felicity wants to talk baby names. Cue hyperventilation.
Yeah yeah yeah I know we know the baby’s name BUT THEY ARE GONNA TALK ABOUT IT GUYS. That’s a whole other thing.
Oliver had names picked out pretty much since this moment.
This is the face of man naming his babies while staring at his future baby mama.
So, I’m really excited Felicity broached the subject first. She’s been dreaming about little Olivers and Felicities too. She’s just been a little calmer about it instead of My Face Is My Feelings over here.
I am still a firm believer in triplets because it gives us more name permutations, but whatever the writers didn’t listen to me and I won’t get greedy. So here we go. It isn’t going to be a boy so Felicity can name the boy whatever she wants.
LUCAS? SHE PICKED LUCAS?
Why not Tommy or Robert or the plethora of other dead male characters on this show? Lucas is a fine name I guess. Makes me think of Lucas from One Tree Hill, which is equally awful and wonderful. (His character was a mess. Don’t blame me for Lucas Scott being a mess.) Or Luke Skywalker who is also equally a mess. My husband’s cousin is named Luke. He’s an awesome guy. Lucas works. Okay. Lucas. Do we call him Luke? I like Luke.
What say you Twitter?
OH MY GOSH I LOVE LUCAS SO MUCH. Tenth time I died.
P.S.: This is why you don’t tell people your names until after the kid is born and you slapped it on the birth certificate.
Source: olicitygifs
Oliver immediately signs off on Lucas (re: see nuclear bomb analogy). Hell, if Felicity wanted to name the kid Malcolm, Slade, The Demon’s Head, Damien, Adrian or Ricardo I think he’d still sign off. He might even go for Al Sah-him Jr. The boy is gone okay? Oliver made a baby with his woman and life is amazing. Eleventh time I died.
I love how Oliver tries to pretend like he just thought of a name for a baby girl.
Boy, you’ve been spinning out names in that brain of yours every night while you sharpen your arrows. You fool no one sir.
There’s a significant pause before Oliver says the name. He has given this a lot of thought. When he speaks again it’s in the same sweet, gentle and quiet tone he uses for Felicity. Since the beginning, Oliver has instinctively softened his voice around Felicity. It was a way to reassure her; to show she is always safe with him.
But his rage and pain are tempered now. The edges have been softened after seven years of loving this one woman.
Yet, this voice remains almost like a whisper because of how much Oliver feels and the depth he loves. It’s almost overwhelming.
This voice is Oliver at his most earnest and vulnerable.
This is the Oliver only Felicity gets to see.
He’s better at talking about his emotions now. It’s taking a lot of practice and learning, but the voice remains the same. This is how Oliver Queen speaks when the words matter the most.
His special Felicity’s voice is also his special Mia voice. Twelfth time I died.
DID I SAY HER NAME WAS MOIRA? .
YES I DID. Thirteenth time I died.
Felicity’s reaction is perfection because Moira is a slightly controversial choice given her relationship with Oliver’s mother and he knows that.
Sweet and fiery describes all the important women in Oliver’s life- the ones he’s loved the most. These women love deeply and fight fiercely.
Moira
Thea
Felicity
Mia
It describes Oliver as well. There is a gentle bear
underneath the raging bull.
This girl is Smoak, Kuttler, Dearden and Queen. And she’s amazing.
Oliver and Felicity’s baby girl seems destined to become a hero in her own right. Someday Oliver and Felicity will make a better and safer Star City for their children. Maybe they’ll save the city with their children.
Source: olicitygifs
Fifteenth time I died. We haven’t even gotten to the promo yet. Probably not a cat, so I’m totally screwed.
Flash Forward
QUEEN SIBLING TEAM UP!!! Did anyone get major Bratva vibes during these scenes? I sure did. It’s in the blood kids!
Mia and William make the perfect team because they are (seemingly) opposites, but underneath the surface have a lot in common. RING ANY BELLS?
It doesn’t hurt they are basically the familial and platonic reverse of Oliver (Mia) and Felicity (William). Mia is the bad ass from the streets and William is the computer wizard with a whole lotta money. But William is a fighter as well and Mia is extremely smart. Time for some sibling bonding.
They are in search of the mini cassette player, so they can listen to Felicity’s messages. Mia tells William to stay put, but of course he doesn’t listen. Pro tip Mia: The elder sibling will never listen to you even when they should listen to you. Curse of being the youngest. Get used to it.
William procures a mini cassette player after haggling over price. Five hundred dollars??? I’m seriously going to look in the garage for one of those things. In twenty years it might make some bank. Unfortunately, William is scammed like Mia warned and he loses the tape. His plan for getting the tape back, however, works and Mia knocks the lights out of the guy who scammed her brother. I love these two so much. They are sibling perfection.
There’s a lot of mutual appreciation. Mia realizes her brother is a genius aka Mini Felicity and William realizes his sister is Mini Oliver.
It’s a really beautiful moment as William stares at her because it’s been about twenty years since he’s seen his father. She is the closest William has been to Oliver and vice versus.
But Mia thinking “You have failed this city” is a dumb will never not be funny.
Source: oliverxfelicity
It’s difficult for William to hit play on the cassette because it’s been 20 years since he’s heard Felicity’s voice and there’s a fair amount of apprehension about what she’s going to say.
Source: feilcityqueen
Mia gives William the strength to hit play. It reminded so much of all the times Oliver and Felicity gently and lovingly supported each other simply by touching hands, particularly in the beginning of the burgeoning partnership and friendship.
Oliver refused to show any feeling while Felicity wore her heart on her sleeve. They took all the best parts of this beloved couple and put them in their children.
Hearing Felicity’s voice in the flash forwards made me cry and I just need her in this timeline already. She spent twenty years avoiding ever saying William and Mia’s names in the same sentence.
You don’t keep your two precious jewels in the same location. I think it’s safe to say this is the strategy Oliver and Felicity were using.
Are there plot holes with the whole William side of things? Sure. It wasn’t a secret he was Oliver’s son. The kid was photographed. You can easily find out his last name is Clayton and his grandparents aren’t exactly living off the radar. Arrow is either going to have an answer for all these little factoids or they’re gonna blow right past them and leave them in Plot Hole Land.
Source: felicitysmoakgifs
But the bigger picture is Oliver and Felicity kept their children apart for a reason. I found it very interesting Felicity said this was a decision they made together. So whatever separation is coming, it was as much Oliver’s choice as it was Felicity’s.
She reads off some coordinates and orders the children not to look for her, which they promptly ignore. I loved Oliver and Thea’s relationship, but I am enjoying Mia and William’s even more. There’s a humor and banter that was missing between Oliver and Thea. Sure, there was the occasional teasing, but it was mostly fighting or crying with the original Queen siblings. It’s fine. It’s what the situations called for and Stephen and Willa acted the hell out of those scenes. It feels like the writers are trying to have more fun with William and Thea. They banter really showcases each actors’ comedic talent too, particularly Ben Lewis.
Mia recognizes the coordinates because it’s inside The Glades. Katherine McNamara tweeted out the perfect reaction because Mia’s tone is very “The North Remembers.” So winter is here friends and we’re going over the wall!
The mere existence of these children is a promise for a better future. I am choosing to remain optimistic about what Oliver and Felicity said. A hero’s journey has to start somewhere. William and Mia’s first act of heroism may very well be saving their parents.
Source: olicitygifs
Team Arrow
Team Arrow being bored to tears and wiping the floor with the SCPD is the realest this show has ever been.
Oliver body slams a fellow officer as a way of “defusing the situation.” Rene puts a gun together at lightning speed and Felicity looks so bored with the tech she’s about to smash her head into a computer.
A significant reason Star City is a crappy place to live is because the police aren’t putting up a strong line of defense. The SCPD’s antiquated procedures hindering the capturing of criminals shocks no one. If things worked at the police department the city wouldn’t need Oliver Queen, his team of bandits, and all their amazing toys. I’ve put up with this Oliver as a police officer for several episodes now, but I draw the line at no suit and no arrows. Screw that.
Dinah is full speed ahead on being captain and draws a hard line in the sand with the team, which of course proves to be disastrous. The reason she is all in on Captain Drake is because she lost her cry and doesn’t feel she can be Bl*ck C*nary anymore. When did the C*nary Cry become a prerequisite?
Sara never had one and we were well into Season 3 before Cisco put that choker around L*urel’s neck. Relax Dinah.
Rene gets in Dinah’s face and defends Oliver because she’s being a b-i-t-c-h.
DID Y’ALL HEAR THAT? RENE DEFENDED OLIVER!!!!! Rene being tolerable, logical and borderline likable is almost as shocking as Zen Oliver.
Oliver apologizes for going rogue. He always apologizes first. We’re taking baby steps with the Newbies. Not everything can get better all at once. Patience. But then DINAH ALSO APOLOGIZES and she acknowledges she was way too hard on Oliver. Umm… hooray! But for real what is happening to this show right now? Everything is amazing.
Oliver FINALLY tells the team to “suit up” and I realized how long it’s been since he’s been the one to say it. The joy of Curtis Holt being gone will never abate. Speaking of Curtis, it feels like a massive difference now that the team is back to four in the field and Felicity in the bunker as Overwatch. God, I missed Overwatch. The trimming of Team Arrow was a smart move for many reasons and I think a five member team is the max capacity this show can handle. Dropping Curtis like the dead weight he is was a fantastic move.
Since Team Arrow is all about the legal now, Felicity hacks whatever SCPD has access to (they aren’t completely in the Stone Age) and it’s all admissible in court. The rest of the team secures evidence and arrests in partnership with the police, which mostly looks like the SCPD rolling in after Team Arrow has done all the work. I don’t really understand how the criminals Team Arrow captured were prosecuted before all this, but whatever.
I’m just happy the team is back in the bunker with their suits, they are the official black ops of the police department, and the mayor is repealing that stupid anti vigilante law. HELLO MY SHOW I HAVE MISSED YOU.
Bl*ck S*ren and Emiko
The “Training Day” writers didn’t check off everything on my wish list. They were close, but unfortunately BS did not kill Diaz. I still think it would’ve been awesome, but it’s okay. You win some and you lose some. I think it’s safe to say our fandom is winning just plenty.
Ben Turner aka Bronze Tiger witnessed Diaz’s murder while he was in solitary and it was someone wearing the Green Arrow suit, which means Emiko. In exchange for this information BS allows Turner to see his son – Connor, his “little hawk.”
I already love this backstory so much more than the one Connor had on the Legends of Tomorrow episode. Connor being Lyla and Diggle’s adopted son makes more sense to me than JJ taking on the random name of Connor Hawke.
BS confronts Emiko and the whole conversation is hysterical hypocrisy.
Bl*ck S*ren: You’re lying about who you really are. You’re not a hero.
STEAL ANYONE’S IDENTITY LATELY L*UREL? I can never decide if the writers are blatantly obtuse in regards to L*urel’s character (any version) or if this is somehow a tongue and cheek/wink wink kind of thing.
It doesn’t really matter. What does matter is I’m fairly certain BS just got Ben Turner killed.
It’s not going to take Emiko and Dante very long to figure out how L*urel came upon this information.
Holy hell lady. Keep your trap shut while you investigate someone. Didn’t you learn anything in law school? OH WAIT THAT’S RIGHT YOU DIDN’T GO!
Since Turner saved Lyla’s life once I believe they’ll adopt Connor as a way of paying it forward. They also can’t let a kid that adorable go. I just want to smush his face.
This also makes Felicity pickle in the middle. Oliver will of course believe Emiko over Bl*ck S*ren and Felicity will have to choose between the two. I’m actually way more interested in seeing how Felicity reacts than I am anything else, so once again BS services her storyline. Suits me just fine.
THE PROMO
I was sick on Monday (hence the delayed review), so my husband didn’t wake me up for Arrow. The nerve of him, I know. So, when I started watching I was about 40 minutes behind and @callistawolf told me to call her after because she was hyperventilating. I was very careful while tweeting not to read any other tweets. So, when Mia said they were going over the wall I thought, “Calm down Cal. It’s not that big of a deal – HOLY SHIT IS THAT A LOVE CABIN?”
THE. PROMO. KILLED. ME. The other fifteen times brought me to the edge and the promo shoved me off the cliff. Don’t mourn for me my friends. I had a good life and it was a good death.
This promo is proof the CW can actually put together great marketing for this show. They just choose not to 99.99% of the time, but at least 7x16 can join the truly great promos of 3x01, 3x20, 4x01 and 5x20.
We hear Felicity screaming as the camera pushes in on the cabin and down the hallway into the bedroom where she is delivering their child. The first image we see of Oliver and Felicity is their hands. Oliver is holding on tight as his wife struggles through labor.
Source: olicitygifs
I remember when I used to hyperventilate over a mere shoulder or hand touch.
Oliver and Felicity’s romance started in the quiet moments.
Their love was in the details.
This image of them holding hands, Felicity’s wedding ring brightly shining in the sun, as she brings Mia into this world is a powerful symbol of where their story began and what their love created.
The reason we wear wedding rings is because they are an endless circles. The commitment we are making with our spouse is forever. We wear our ring on our fourth finger of our left hand because the Romans believed the vein in this finger lead directly to a person’s heart. Love is eternal. The focus on Felicity’s ring, her hand gripping tightly in Oliver’s, symbolizes Mia entering this endless loop of love where she will always be wanted, adored and safe.
Source: sansasnw
Of course, Oliver and Felicity’s child is born in the bright sunshine of morning. We would expect nothing less. It’s always the light. This child is a new beginning for Oliver and Felicity. A new life who can harness her parent’s light and shine her own upon all she loves. I get emotional when I think about where Oliver’s story began. He was a lost soul who believed life was merely about survival and he didn't deserve one worth living for. And now…
Source: olicitygifs
I’m sobbing at the promo y’all. I won’t make it through the episode.
As for this moment...
This is my head canon until the show tells me different.
Source: olicitygifs
Stray Thoughts
Why does Bl*ck S*ren think Oliver and Felicity will be mad Emiko killed Diaz? Nobody is crying over that guy cutie. Oliver and Felicity came to my smore party. They brought the chocolate.
Mia couldn’t put the tape in. I’m still laughing. Katherine McNamara’s comedic timing is gold.
“This is private. Loophole.” Felicity being the most irritated she can’t do things illegally is so on brand.
Mini cassettes were around in the nineties too. Can we stop with the super aging of things, show?
I love Face/Off. Classic Travolta vs. Cage.
We haven't done a good old fashion gang war. After 7 years in a crime fighting show that feels a little odd.
Oliver and Felicity have their baby in a love cabin and many believe it is Ravenspure, which is the cabin Felicity was conceived in. I truly do not remember this detail from Season 4, but I know better than to question my peeps.
Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me. 7x15 gifs credited.
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#arrow#olicity#arrow 7x15#arrow reviews#olicity baby#mia smoak#william clayton#oliver and felicity#william and mia#oliver felicity and william#queen family#mia queen#arrow spoilers#arrow season 7#season 7 episode review#season 7 episode reviews
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The Road Goat
Title: The Road Goat
Edited, originally posted as a twitter thread: link
Read on ao3
"I dunno," X mumbles, the uncertainty in her voice as obvious as a grasshopper you see on your brightly lit screen at 3am on a humid August night. "I'm always scared when in driver's seat. I mean, what if we get hit?"
We stand in front of my grandfather’s car, a vehicle that remembered the times of old Eastern Bloc and that seems to have been born already old without ever experiencing the joys of childhood, which is the very basis of the relationship between the two of us. It has a bumper sticker on the back window with a cartoon infant smiling at anyone who looked at it. In red letters a menacing print announces to the world that “there’s babies on the deck”.
I look at X in all of her 5 feet tall glory (nearly 3 inches of which were thanks to her wild curls, which I always decided safest not to point out), who looks like an exceptionally bored elementary-schooler. I think “babies indeed”.
I nod sagely, because my blown up Capricorn ego won't allow me for a regular nod. "It's ok, I can sit there instead," I say, with some level of condescending, though not enough to alarm the other speaker, something I’ve mastered through past 20 years of being a Capricorn.
X looks at me weird. "But you can't drive?"
"It's okay," I repeat. "We will be fine, I tried for a bike license once.”
I don’t mention that I didn’t pass but it’s a minor detail anyway.
We enter the car - an old, red fiat 180p, passed through two generations of Nowak’s between various uncles and cousins in what is probably the saddest game of inter-family hot potato known in so far recorded history.
I go to the driver's seat, X seats in the back. There's wires tied to the wheel which she holds in her hands clad in hot pink fingerless gloves. There's a third wire tied to the gear stick and connected with her leg. The pedals are my one and only domain and there's a letter written on the gum of my shoes with glittery blue and red gel pens so I know which one to press at any given moment. It took us all of ten minutes to construct this weird mechanical puppet and we test it for all of 30 seconds before we get bored, deem it good enough and decide to go.
I start the car. It takes me three tries but the rumble of the engine once I manage to turn it on is more gratifying than eating a whole sub sandwich without spilling the excess lettuce on the floor. Internally, I triumph. My hands rest lightly on the steering wheel to avoid suspicion, but it's X that leads us out of the driveway and onto the road.
The first half an hour goes without a hitch. I honk at a truck while waiting for the green light on the crossing to the beat of Everybody backstreet's back, but the light changes to green just as the driver leaves his vehicle with clear intentions to beat me up. Or congratulate me on my sense of rhythm. With his fists.
As we leave the crossing I cheer at my luck, though there is some disappointment mixed into it. The prospect of a fistfight on a busy street was something that appealed to me and filled me with childlike excitement ever since I watched that one Dexter episode with Action Hank where Dexter grew a beard. Alas, me and X continue our journey fistfight-less.
We leave the town with little issues, as per X’s request I don’t honk at truck drivers or any other drivers for that matter anymore. In addition, nobody so far seems to realize that my hands are merely a prop for our intricate man-steered wire system, that X is the true puppeteer of our little car-shaped circus du soleil, or that I don't even have a bicycle card. We look just like every other pair of young adults if one of them looked more like a preschooler than someone over 20 and if anyone in these parts owned a red fiat 180p. Nobody did.
Elated by the success of our little charade, I think, wow, we are incredibly lucky.
And this, well. This is the very moment our luck runs out.
As the saying goes, don't praise the day before the sunset.
There's a goat on the road. And as I always say, where's a goat on the road, there's trouble.
Now, one may ask: how do you know that?
Well, I’ve already mentioned before that I'm a Capricorn. While to the uneducated it probably means nothing, to the one well-versed in the ways of the stars will recognize that as a Capricorn, aside from being insufferably pretentious and emotionally unavailable, I know goats. And I know that goats bring trouble.
My hands twitch on the steering wheel and sweat starts dropping down my neck and forehead in thick beads. I look at the goat. The goat looks back, its intense, green eyes seemingly looking straight into my very soul.
It stands far ahead of us at where the road drops down and hides behind the horizon. It's backlit in golds and pinks from the late, afternoon sun, seemingly glowing and ethereal, like a four-hooved god of doom. Like Bacchus on wine withdrawal about to start a party except the main course wasn’t Dom Perignon year 1932 and a roast but you.
"Dodge," I say, a sort of primal fear making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
"From what," asks X, who relaxed during our ride and now looks very much at home holding the wires in her hands, like an 18th century charioteer from London if they dressed in yellow t-shirts and pink corduroy overall dresses back in the day.
"There's a goat on the road," I say, hurriedly though to a regular listener not well-versed in the way of Capricorns it may sound bored and nasal. "We need to dodge."
X sways to the side to see the front window. I can see her brows furrow from the front mirror. "I don't see any goat," she says as we near said goat at the speed of 40 miles per hour.
"Please," I say, just about begging, "just swerve to the right. There's no one else on the road, indulge me.
She does, though not without throwing me a Look that highly suggests that I am at best an idiot and at worst an utter buffoon. She’s mastered the expression over the course of our nearly ten years long friendship nearly to perfection, though deep down I know this is nowhere near the limit of her abilities.
We swerve to the right, a surprisingly swift motion for a car that can be both destroyed and fixed with one kick, and I never stray my eyes from the goat, not even for a second. And yet.
And yet, I fight the urge to cry as I realize that somehow the goat transported to the other lane, seamlessly, as if it’s always been there.
I convince X to swerve once more, saying that I want to test her driving skills. She takes up the challenge with a smile and I welcome the shaking of our car with the closes thing to relief one can feel when trapped in a Fiat 180p with X as a driver.
We do it a couple of times until X gets fed up and tells me to put on some music if I'm so bored. Miraculously, our car stays intact and I send a small prayer to whoever is watching us over int he clouds before with trembling hand I turn on the radio.
"A rich man's war in poor man's blood, silent their cries..." plays Killing Joke, the harsh sound of electric guitars abusing my ears with the rage of thirty to fifty wild boars chasing children in someone’s backyard. "...follow behind the Judas goat."
I change the station.
The goat is still in front of us but the distance doesn't change. We pass through another town, listen through Goat by the Shudder To Think, to Goat 2.0 by Eric Bellinger, Goat Annie by Carole King and several others as I keep hopping through the stations in a wild fury worthy of a middle aged man sat in front of his TV trying to find something that isn’t Mango or morning weather forecast at five am on a Sunday. The goat remains ever present and I slowly assign what portion of my sanity be assignable.
"What are the five apex predators of the jungle," asks X out of nowhere as we listen to Evil Little Goat by Pearl Jam, about an hour after I spotted The Four Hooves of Doom.
"Goats," I say, because I'm at the point in my life where I acknowledge that goats run the world and I don't question it.
"No," X says, because she knows nothing. I indulge her anyway.
"What's the answer then," I ask.
"Three lions and two tigers," she says like it’s the most hilarious joke she’s ever heard. I stare at the goat at the end of the road and she looks back with eyes that know what hides at the bottom of the ocean.
"Okay," I agree with barely concealed pity, for X doesn't know yet.
My staring contest with the goat lasts through next string of goat related songs which keep pouring through the tinny radio speakers no matter how often I change the station. At some point I stop focusing on them and drift away, my eyes stuck in the horizontal irises of the god. Goat.
I fall into a kind of trans where I both seat and don’t seat in the car, my consciousness drifts far beyond the old, leather seat of the Fiat 180, beyond my body, beyond where human consciousness should drift, allowing me to see a trillion years into the past and into the future as I transform from a human into a bug into water into mist into a celestial body only for the black hole to swallow me like a child would corn candy on a Halloween night - with tearful, lip-trembling disappointment and an aching tooth.
When I wake up from the vision, I feel both like a newborn and a being too old to describe with words, my bones singing to the eons past and my blood reaching to the eons that are still yet to come.
I am bathed in the golden pink light of the late afternoon sun. There is a black, gravel road stretching behind me and before me, seemingly endless though I know it stops abruptly three meters into an overgrown cornfield at the end of the universe somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere Minnesota. A small, red car is speeding straight at me but I am secure in the knowledge that it won't ever be able to hit me. I remain fixed in place, unbothered and inevitable
I stare into the car, past the plastic glass and dangling, yellow car freshener at myself, sitting in the front seat, pretending to drive with X sitting behind me and holding the wires. I am dressed in an old Batman t-shirt and torn jeans and look immensely bored though I’m paralyzed with fear.
My body stares back at me, eyes droopy and tired though irises thin with panic, and at that moment I finally understand.
I was the goat the entire time.
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ENDGAME
Okay. I definitely won’t be able to sleep today, so I might as well pour out all my Endgame feelings right now.
First thing first, I was probably in the WORST POSSIBLE HEADSPACE to watch this film; national elections where fascists could take over Congress (spoiler alert, they didn’t. I literally just cried with relief for over ten minutes) AND being extremely concerned about characters you over-identify with on the same day, all after the worst year of your life, apparently don’t mix well. Who would have thunk.
(btw, I was spoiled as I was voting about That Very Big Thing; everyone who follows me probably can guess what I’m talking about. I almost threw hands tbh. Then almost cried over a dozen times on the way to the theatre because the stress of the day was killing me ugh).
All this to say, my head is a mess right now, I don’t even know if this post is going to make any sense, and I will probably take time to process certain things and have a definite opinion on them LOL. But well, here is now.
And err. Warning for a brief mention of suicide ideation?
(crossposted to dreamwidth, livejournal, and pillowfort)
TONY (& CO)
– In case it wasn’t obvious, the thing I was spoiled about? Yeah, it was Tony’s death. FML. I mean, even if I wasn’t spoiled, I would’ve seen it coming as soon as we saw him after the five years jump, lbr (happily off-screen married to Pepper? With an adorable daughter? Pepper resigned to the possibility of losing him instead of begging him to stay like in IW? And then the movie kept hammering it home LMAO; that and a lot of things for the mains that I kind of saw coming from less than a third into the movie, which IDK if it’s because I was particularly intuitive, or the foreshadowing was that heavy handed xD).
Obviously, I’m not rocking your world if I tell you I’m extremely heartbroken, I guess. Especially because, as I said, my emotions were already all over the place. And seeing a character I adore, and in who I project a lot of my issues on –including, yes, suicidal issues–, sacrifice their lives (no matter how poignant, and moving, and well-written it might be) was incredibly hard for me. So, yeah. I’m going to have to deal with that for a while I guess. Which I plan to do by writing a bunch of Fix-It and Not Actually Fix-It fics ASAP.
But. I mean, out of all the endings Tony could have, this was always my second choice for him. And he was grandiose in this film. He figured out time travel. He created a gauntlet capable of holding the Infinity stones. Beings far more powerful than him were trying to carry that gauntlet to the van and none of them thought to use it, but he did. He was completely vindicated. He is the Saviour of the Universe.
And he looked gorgeous the entire time, which is truly important for me.
– In all seriousness, the thing I take to heart the most is that
his legacy remains intact
, and it’s inspiring, and heroic, and poetic, and prosperous. Clearly, without him, my enthusiasm for the universe will never be the same, but one thing that worried me is that I wouldn’t want anything to do with Marvel for a while after this film, and that’s not how I’m feeling; I’m very much looking forward to further parallels and homages to him in my ever-growing list :P
Tho, honestly, I’m kind of side-eyeing myself for the fact that, the one time!!! I go and fall in love with a male lead character, he happens to be genuinely heroic and self-sacrificing, instead of just using those concepts as lip-service and getting to have his cake and eat it too LMAO. I mean, sure, given my reactions to those characters, the AeJons Snowrgaryens of the world, I wouldn’t have liked him so much if it was the case, but dammit. It’d be nice to experience that high sometime xD
– The Iron Fam is the best part of this movie for me. Tony’s relationship with Morgan was way too adorable to handle it; Pepper was enormous and so poised (and the scene where they circle around each other in their armors… poetic cinema); I didn’t get enough Iron Husbands to satiate me (Rhodey’s caress should have been skin to skin!), but I loved what we got; Happy is an assholes who made me cry ABOUT CHEESEBURGERS.
And let’s not talk about Peter, OMG. My heart. And Harley appeared to Tony’s funeral! Though, honestly, the person I missed the most there was Christine Everhart, who should have been there just on the basis that I like her (plus, ya know, IMO she was important to Tony’s origin dammit).
I’m going to consider Nebula an honorary member, tbh. Her scenes with Tony in space cut me deep; and she and Rhodey are buddies!
Natasha and Fury (I loved his appearance *sniffs*) are honorary members too, because fuck it. They both appeared first vis a vis Tony on his movies, and have two of my favourite relationships with him, and I say so.
– Related to that, one Failure™ of this movie, is not providing a Nat & Tony one-on-one scene. Seriously, I can’t believe they didn’t realize how necessary that was. But I ADORED the scene where they and Bruce are lying down bouncing ideas about the stones (it made me softly whisper “ot3” LOL); it was possibly the only “Avengers” moment that worked for me –other than Clintasha, but that’s on a different league tbh.
I wanted more Nebula & Tony scenes too; I would’ve loved to see Tony interact with Past!Nebula. Yes, realistically, he would probably had made her LOL, but. I needed it. it’s definitely on my to-write-list :P
– I wanted just some positive interaction between Carol & Tony to counteract Current Comics Bullshit and I got Carol rescuing him, smiling beatifically at him, and Tony basically saying she was Da Bomb and the Avengers should follow her lead instead of keep sucking xDD So that was nice.
– I loved the scene at the beginning where he fucking SNAPS, and goes for Steve’s throat. It was probably my favourite scene. It’s resolution with everyone’s reactions and after the flashforward kind of… totally sucked, but whatever. Still amazing.
– The only part of his storyline that I HATED, and I mean absolutely loathed, was his scene with Howard. Jesus Fucking Christ. They went with the most simplistic take they could have, didn’t they. I haven’t felt more insulted in the theatre in my entire life, and my family made me watch both Ocho apellidos movies with them, so Marvel? That’s a feat. The moment where he says his father hit him with a belt so we (Tony included) are supposed to think, well, at least Howard wasn’t physically violent with his son, hooray?
And I think we’re supposed to take his “wouldn’t want my son to turn like me” as motivation for Tony’s actions and like… newsflash, but Tony has “put the worlds’ needs over his own gain” since Iron Man. Fucking. One. It’s literally what he does in this film, because we’re shown that, despite having achieved his happy ending, he was still trying to figure out time travel even if it meant risking his future.
Seriously, if they wanted me to be moved, they should’ve used Maria. Or hell, Edwin Jarvis was right there. And if whitewashing of Howard’s abuse becomes one of those MCU things that ends up bleeding into the comics, I’m gonna riot. Ugh.
BTW, just thought about this. Has anyone confirmed what the H. of Morgan’s second name stands for? Because my immediate idea was that it was for Happy, but now the fear that it might relate to Howard has entered my brain and I need someone to drive it out.
OTHER FAVES :P
– I am a lot more heartbroken over Natasha’s death than I expected to be. I like her character on paper a lot, but sometimes the writing or the acting don’t agree with me; neither was the case in this movie. I thought she was incredible. I loved the scene where she’s leading the post-dusting council. So losing her in this movie, of all movies, really hurts. And I understand why people who love her would be unhappy, and even furious –to some extent, so am I, tbh; specially because I don’t think she was properly honoured by the other characters after the fact–, but I do think it was extremely fitting for her arc.
– I loved Nebula’s storyline; how she was able to form new relationships, and what I know will be enduring friendships. Her interactions with her younger self were fascinating too; I loved that she perfectly followed the time-travel mumbo-jumbo. And she was so adorable at the beginning. Her bond with Tony didn’t have as much screen time as I wish it had, but the rest of the movie really shows how much his kindness touched her, and I love it. I’m a bit sad she didn’t get to kill any Thanos, tho.
– Okay, putting him in the “faves” section doesn’t exactly feel right, but whatever: I maintain that Thanos is a great villain. I don’t know what people that say otherwise are thinking. He’s the perfect foil for so many characters, and he is genuinely villainous; he is so delusional and self-righteous (seriously, his “solution” for the Snap 2.0 was… o.0) his plans feel sincerely menacing. He perfectly spells out his own doom; narratively speaking? He’s a joy of a villain to me. And I loved how he reacted to the information about the future; specifically, that upon learning about Nebula’s “betrayal”, his tactic was SOFTENING towards past!Nebula to make her even more eager to please him.
– Carol didn’t have much screen time, but I liked what she got (like, nothing too deep, but I didn’t expect much). I liked the Carol/Rhodey nod, even if I’m not sure how I feel about the ship in this incarnation. I wanted to hear something about Maria, but welp.
And on a shallow note, I kind of love that fandom absolutely freaked out about her wearing lipstick on a scene (while praising the “~natural no-make-up make up, effortlessly feminine without looking like you’re actually trying” look that she sported on CM, and disregarding that while yes, it was a troubling look that fitted a pattern across movies, A4 was made first so it was hardly a “betrayal” of the semi-grunge style), for the movie to go and give her the butchest look she’s ever gonna get on film lmao (and I will be pleasantly surprised if they’d keep a look like this for a movie where she’s the lead and not a supporting character, tbh).
– Sam and Bucky were So Soft™ with each other OMG. If their show doesn’t have at least ONE episode centred on them going undercover as a married couple, I’ll write it myself, because they are perfect for it (especially if you add some of the early banter/antagonism).
Btw, Sam getting the shield? The only good part of that mess at the end LMAO.
– I have mixed feelings for the Alt!Gamora development. I just… really loved the GOTG-IW versions of her character and her ship, and she’s gone and just… :( And that type of pseudo-amnesia/relationship do-over thing can be so badly written sometimes… But she’s back, and if done right, the role-reversal between her and Nebula could be gr10 for GOTG 3. We’ll see.
THE BAD™
– I know if I walked up right now to the Russos, and asked them why they hate Thor so much, they wouldn’t even understand the question. They would say, but we love Thor?? He’s such a fun character?? Or some version of the sort. They can fool themselves, but not me. You don’t do this to a character for whom you feel a modicum of respect, IMO.
Like, the fat-phobic jokes? The way they dealt with his substance abuse? How his arc about stepping up and assuming responsibilities ended by… him throwing away his responsibilities. Losing his hammer was a turning point for him to relearn the lessons about value and worthiness and power he’d been taught, and then… this movie. I couldn’t even fully enjoy his scenes with Frigga because I was so appalled by it all.
His only great scene, IMO, was how horrified and out of it he sounded after killing Thanos. I really felt that.
I didn’t even enjoy that he passed his power to Valkyrie because… unlike with Sam, that basically came out of nowhere. If they at least had given them ONE more scene at the beginning; seriously, it writes itself: just put her in the room when Bruce and Rocket are trying to convince him to go with them, and have her being the one that does it. Make her help him the way HE helped HER in Ragnarok; show her trying to help him and getting angry and frustrated. IDK, something.
And I know I’m probably alone in this because everyone around me practically creamed their pants when it happened but… having Steve control Mjolnir felt like adding insult to injury. Not just lifting it (which I would’ve been annoyed by too, given that they rewrote the new Asgardian mythology just to have this scene lol), but commanding it as only Thor did. Just. How much more are you going to take from Thor, people.
I want to make it clear that my problem is with the execution, not with Thor going through this; that, written differently, with more care, I could have loved.
– I’ve always been conflicted with MCU Steve. I loved the Captain America old comics I read as a child, and 616 Steve was A Hero. So I wanted to love MCU Steve just as much but… it often felt that he just didn’t measure up.
Well, conflict over. I don’t like the guy. Reading Man Out of Time just a few months ago probably isn’t helping (and yeah, that’s not a fair comparison, but it illustrates why I look at 616 Steve, and I adore him, and then I turn to MCU Steve and just… this guy is not worth my time).
I couldn’t even enjoy the ship, because my feelings for it come solely from my love for Peggy, and she didn’t even get to say a word? Add to that the fact that an endless loop of “OMG HE MADE OUT WITH YOUR NIECE. NOW HIS NIECE. RUN” was going through my head the entire time (the fact that Sharon was absent from the funeral when EVC acted in half of the MCU Russos films is hilarious in light of this xDD).
MISC
– I really enjoyed some of the heist shenanigans. Especially Tony’s plan for a distraction being GIVING HIS PAST SELF A HEART ATTACK. How extra and edgy can my man be xD Tony and Scott are A Duo.
– I was thinking that Alt!Loki might make an appearance in GOTG3 if Thor is really a part of it, and how that might mix, but then a friend reminded me about his show, so I guess that’s where they’re going? IDK, The Avengers’ Loki is probably the one I liked the least out of all his appearances, so unless I hear something really good about it, I’m not picking it up.
– IDK if it’s because I was desensitized, but the white suits and Clint’s hairdo didn’t look as ugly on the final product?
– So THAT was the gay character Feige went on about. I knew he was going to be an unnamed nobody with less than five lines LMAO. Stop being cowards and give us Danbeau and WinterFalcon.
– I was very touched about Ned and Peter’s hug (MY BBYS), but isn’t Ned supposed to be five years older? AKA out of high school? I mean, he looked like he had missed Peter, not like he had disappeared with him too? And the entire class is going on a trip in FFH? Is it because of nostalgia/a friends thing? Were all of them dusted? Because poor teacher then xDD
– I think a lot of emotional threads were unceremoniously dropped, but other than the ones I’ve mentioned, I’m more indifferent towards their recipients so… eh. A great example is the fact that Bruce’s conflicting journey with Hulk was solved off-screen LMAO. Some of the humour felt extra-cringy too tbh.
– I have Tony-related fanart as my lock screen, my computer background, and my phone background. I get teary eyed with just looking at them. I should think of changing them, but I wont xD
– I know I’m forgetting things but whatevs, I can talk about them later.
#tony stark#mcu#marvel#iron family#thor odinson#nebula#natasha romanoff#thanos#winterfalcon#and other stuff but i'd be here all day#marvel (movies)#gamora#avengers (movies)#avengers: endgame#endgame spoilers#my thoughts#talking to the void#marvel thoughts
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Mommy?
Don't hate me. A sad, short one shot I thought of after seeing Ant Man ATW a while back. I sincerely hope Tony's fine in A4...but this is set after they finish the war with Thanos.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything Marvel or Iron Man.
DO NOT COPY OR STEAL please!!! This is my work and is on FF.net, AO3, and Wattpad under @SRona58
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"Play it again, Friday..." Pepper's voice rasped, raw and tortured after the Avengers finally defeated Thanos and brought universe back to order...though at a cost.
Of course, Miss Potts," the AI responded, rather sadly...either because it was nearly the hundredth time playing the same video, or because she felt the same - if she could feel.
Tony's voice spoke over the audio display on the desktop in their home office, the one she used regularly at the compound since the war between Tony and Steve began. It had probably been about an hour since she had shut herself in the room, but she needed it...today of all days, she desperately needed this.
"Day eleven, test 37, configuration 2.0," Stark read off, his longer hair falling in his face as he readied the few shells of armor that he had started with so long ago...about fifteen years ago, in fact. "For lack of a better option, Dummy is still on fire safety. If you douse me again, and I'm not on fire, I'm donating you to a city college."
Pepper smiled faintly as he repeated that very familiar line, but her eyes still held that now familiar longing.
"All right, nice and easy," Stark went on, taking a flight stance. "Seriously, just gonna start off with one percent thrust capacity. And three, two, one..."
"Pause," Pepper managed, and the AI stopped it before she could watch him wreck himself into the ceiling.
Yeah, he was fine. She knew he'd be fine. But not after what her eyes had witnessed just a few days prior. Not now.
"Play it again," she whispered next, reaching out to trace the screen over his paused face before the AI rewound it and started from the beginning.
"Day eleven, test 37, configuration 2.0. For lack of a better option, Dummy is still on fire safety."
Pepper closed her eyes tightly, listening to the sound of his voice as she clutched onto the necklace she was wearing with one hand; the one he had given her, made from the shrapnel that once surrounded his heart. To the raspy deepness that radiated from him. The voice she heard on TV, on the phone, in her ear most nights and mornings after they started sharing a bed. The voice she took for granted and thought nothing of until it was gone.
"If you douse me again, and I'm not on fire, I'm donating you to a city college."
Her mouth spoke the words as Tony did on the video feed, knowing it by heart now. She smiled lightly through her broken heart and an escaped tear from her red eyes as she tried to put herself back into her shoes fifteen years ago. Hell, just back three or four days ago, even.
Until she was met with thumping feet and a small human appeared in the doorway, wandering toward her in front of Happy, who trailed not far behind.
"Mommy?" the small child questioned as she made her way toward the desk.
Happy frowned from the door frame when Pepper frantically instructed Friday to stop the feed and mute, tapping the screen of the desktop hurriedly as she tried to hide the windows and inconspicuously wipe the tear from her cheek at the same time.
"I'm sorry, Pep," Happy spoke softly, earning a nod from the red head as she swiveled in her chair to turn toward the child, who was now tugging at the bottom of her black dress. "I tried to get her to stay with Rhodey, but-"
"It's okay," she managed, reaching down to run her hand through the girl's soft, dark hair...too familiar for comfort. "Hey, baby..."
"Mommy, where's daddy?" the five year old girl asked, her dark eyes looking up.
Pepper's heart tore again, as it had been for a while, when their familiar chocolate color burned into her own with that same, needing look her father had always given her. Biting her lip to fight back the rest of the water in her eyes, she smoothed down the child's hair again for comfort and swallowed down what she could of her emotions.
"He's on a mission, sweetheart..." she lied. "A very, very important mission."
"Is he coming back soon?" she asked innocently, making matters worse. "He promised to teach me how to read that book about Captain America."
Leaning down, Pepper planted a kiss on top of her head and lingered for a moment, holding onto that small picture in her mind.
"How about uncle Rhodey teaches you for now. What do ya say?"
The girl hesitated, then finally nodded slowly. "Okay..." she murmured, thinking. "Then I'll surprise daddy and read it to him!"
Pepper's eyes closed, desperately trying to stay strong for her daughter...their daughter. "He'll be so surprised," she whispered, barely audible.
And then she was standing, ushering the small girl out before her heels, which clicked on the floor. Passing the TV in the corner of the room, she noticed the headline: Memorial service held for Tony Stark yesterday in preparation for private ceremony this afternoon.
"Off," Pepper instructed, suddenly more angry than upset, and Friday responded accordingly.
When she followed the skipping little girl into the shared main halls, she flashed a silent thank you to Happy, who was giving up going to make sure Morgan didn't have to witness her break down. Then, she met Rhodey at the glass doors, her eyes flashing down at her black heels for a moment, waiting for Happy to disappear down the hall with Morgan out of sight.
"Ready?" she heard Tony's friend ask after a second of silence, and she looked back up with watery eyes.
"How is someone ever ready for something like this?" she whispered back. Then, "do you know where we're going?"
"Same place I used to drag him when I made him visit his parents," Rhodey confirmed.
He kicked his shoe off the ground, thinking, as Pepper tried to control herself again, waves of sadness trying to drag her down and drown her before she even got there. But his next words were what broke her. What broke them both, before they even set foot outside.
"You think he's with em?"
And that's when she gasped out in a sort of choke, when the tears started pouring and her face scrunched up in agony. That's when Pepper collapsed into Rhodey's arms, gripping him for dear life. She thought of his dorky morning giggle when he tried to claim five more minutes of sleep in her neck, the way his eyes danced when he explained the sudden idea he came up with that also involved tinkering in the shop, the smirk on the photo he set as his contact photo in her phone the day she surprised him with a random selfie of the two of them together after one of their first real dates. And that's all she had. Photos. Memories. Ghosts. And then she was sobbing, probably ruining his suit jacket, but she didn't care. All she wanted was Tony. Her Tony. Their Tony. The Tony she never appreciated as much as she was right now.
"I miss him so much," she squeaked finally, her words muffled into his shoulder. "God, Rhodey...bring him back, please...bring him back."
And when she started begging and he only hugged her tighter in response, unable to stay steady himself, she knew it would take a very, very long time to feel okay again. For any of them. And one day, Morgan would ask and she'd have to explain...but right now, she couldn't.
Right now, she had a funeral to go to.
#robert downey jr#iron man#tony stark#avengers#marvel#rdj#infinity war#pepper#robertdowneyjr#gwyneth paltrow#pepper potts#fan fiction#pepperony#fanfic#writing
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hello! i’m new to kpop and was wondering what your favorite kpop albums/what albums you would recommend?
Welcome to this crazy fandom!!! I hope you enjoy your stay xDDD
disclaimer: I haven’t really been following any of the newer bands so….this may be a bit……Dated (I’m also cheating a little and giving you many compilation and repackaged albums)
Ailee - A’s Doll House
Agust D - Agust D
Akdong Musician - Play, Spring, Summer Episode
BAP - One Shot, Blue
Baek Yerin - Frank
BEAST - Midnight Sun
Bevy Maco - Bad Dreams
Big Bang - Alive, Made
Block B - Very Good, Blockbuster
Bolbbagan4 - Red Planet
Boyfriend - Janus
Brown Eyed Girls - Cleansing Cream, Blackbox, Sixth Sense
BTS - The Most Beautiful Moments in Life: Young Forever, Wings Repackage: You Never Walk Alone, Love Yourself: Answer
CNBLUE - Re:Blue, First Steps
Code Kunst - Parachute
Crush - Sofa, Interlude
DASONI - Goodbye, Only One
DAY6 - The Day, Daydream, Sunrise, Moonrise
DBSK (or I guess they are called TVXQ! now)- Five in Black, Mirotic, T
Dean - 130 Mood: TRBL, Pour Up
DIA - Paradise
Donghae & Eunkyuk - The Beat Goes On
Drunken Tiger/Tiger JK - Drunken Tiger X: Rebirth of a Tiger
Echae Kang - Radical Paradise
Epik High - Pieces Part One, Epilogue, We’ve Done Something Wonderful, Shoebox
Eric Nam - Cloud 9, Interview, Can’t Help Myself
EXID - Hippity Hop
EXO - Growl, EX’ACT, EXODUS, The Power of Music, Love Shot
EXO-CBX - Girls
FT Island - Five Treasure Box
f(x) - Nu ABO, Pink Tape, Red Light
Gain - Hawwah
Girl’s Generation - Run Devil Run, Lion Heart
GroovyRoom - Everywhere
G-Dragon - Kwon Ji Yong, Coup d’Etat
G.O.D - Chapter 8
Han Yo Han - 911
HA:TFELT - Me?
Heize - And July, /// (You Are Cloudy)
Hoody - By Your Side
Hyorin - Love & Hate
Infinite - Infinitize, Reality, Be Back, Infinite Only
IU - Modern Times, Chat-Shire, Lost and Found, Spring of a 20 Year Old, Last Fantasy, REAL+
Jay Park - Everything You Wanted, Joah, Worldwide
JYJ - In Heaven
KARA - Pandora
Kim Bohyung - Crazy Girl
Kiss&Cry - Domino Game
Kris Leone - Kris Leone
Kris Wu - Antares, July
Ladies’ Code - Code #02 Pretty Pretty, Myst3ry, Strang3r
Lay - Namanana
LEDApple - Time Is Up
Lee Hi - Seoulite, First Love
Lee Seung gi - Forest
Luna - Free Somebody
Mamamoo - Hello, Red Moon, Memory, Meting
MFBTY - Sweet Dreams
Miss A - Touch, Hush
NELL - Slip Away, Let it Rain
Oh My Girl - Closer
Oohyo - Girl Sense, Youth
Owol - Dream On You
Park Jimin - Hopeless Love
Park Ji Yoon - Park Ji Yoon
Phantom - Phantom City, Phantom Theory
Primary - 2
The Quiett - Q Train 2
Rania - Goodbye’s the New Hello
Red Velvet - The Red Summer
RM - mono
Royal Pirates - 3.3, Shout out
Roy Kim - The Great Dipper, Spring Spring Spring
Sam Kim - I am Sam
Secret - Poison
Sejeong - Jellybox Flower Way
Seventeen - Boys Be, Al1
SHINee - The Misconceptions of Us, Everybody, Replay, Married to the Music, Lucifer
Shinhwa - The Classic, Perfect Man
Sistar - Alone, Sweet&Sour,
SM The Ballad - Breathe [Vol.2]
Spica - Russian Roulette, Tonight
Standing Egg - Lucky, Summer Night You and I, Starry Night
Super Junior - Sexy Free and Single, Mamacita
Suran - Calling in Love, Winter Bird, Wine, Walkin’
Sunmi - Full Moon, Gashina, Warning
Tablo - Fever’s End
Taemin - Taemin, Press It
Taetiseo - Holler
Taeyang - Rise
Taeyeon - Why, My Voice
Ten - Dream In a Dream
Triple H - 199x, Retro Futurism
Troublemaker - Chemistry
T-Ara - And&End
U-Kiss - Tick Tack, Stop Girl
Urban Zakapa - Cafe Latte, 03
VIXX - VIXX 2016 Conception: Ker, Voodoo Doll, On and On, Error, Eau de Perfume
Winner - Exit: E, Fate Number For
Wondergirls - Reboot, Wonder World, Why So Lonely
Xia - 11 o’clock, Flower, Incredible
Zion T. - Yanghwa BRDG, Eat, Just
15& - I Dream, Sugar
10cm - 2.0
2NE1 - I Don’t Care, Lonely, 2NE1
2PM - Grown, hands Up
4Minute - Volume Up, Hit Your Heart
9 Muses - Sweet Rendezvous
#this is a literal laundry list#so to make sure people won't get annoyed at me#everything is under the cut eoaijfrogjiroea#I didnt realize how long this is until I had to scroll up oagjriojgaio#but yea nothing really from the past few years im sorry#if my followers have any more suggestions feel free to add them tbh#ans#recs
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