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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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Mine Again - Harry Styles

a/n: this is something i just thought about after my nap today lol, so enjoy this treat, a classic exlovers to lovers fic!

pairing: Harry x Famous!Reader

word count: 3.4k

masterlist

Seeing an ex is never easy. Whether it’s by your choice or not. Working together with an ex is even harder and now you brought a situation on yourself where this is your reality.

Arriving to the studio of The Late Late show you immediately get escorted to your designated dressing room where a hair and makeup artist are already waiting for you. Today you are here to promote your new movie, Don’t Worry Darling with your onscreen lover, Harry Styles, however, what no one else in the building knows is that once the two of you were real life lovers.

Your romance blossomed during filming, having spent so much time together on set, it didn’t take long for a relationship to form between you and him, the chemistry you shared was immense and undeniable, anyone could see that and you felt like you were burning in a bonfire of the most intense feelings you’ve felt for any man. It was passionate and intoxicating, it felt like something that could only happen in movies, but it was your reality.

However filming ended and you were forced to go your separate ways, you both tried hard to keep what you had and though your feelings never changed, distance brought the worst out of the both of you. Six months after you became an item, you mutually agreed to break it off.

You haven’t seen him since then, meaning that it’s been five torturous months without having any contact with him and now that promo has officially kicked in, you are forced to travel around and make appearances with the man you love, yes, still love more than anyone on this Earth. Not even five months and absolutely no contact could change your feelings for him, however he might already be over you at this point, having forgotten about feelings and memories you still hold close to your heart.

How has he been doing? What is he like now? Has he been thinking about you? Does he miss you? What is it going to be like to see him for the first time?

The questions flood your mind as you sit in the chair and let the professionals work their magic on you, covering up the dark circles under your eyes that formed due to the sleepless night you had the day before, nonstop thinking about Harry and what it’ll be like to see him for the first time again.

After careful elimination, you choose a dress for the appearance, it’s tight and short, the fabric is covered in glittering sequins down your body and the long sleeves as well and while the dress covers a lot up from the waist, it makes up in the lack of length on your legs as the end of it barely reaches the upper part of your thighs, ending it black feathers that tickle your freshly shaven legs. The nude heels add even more to them, making you appear like you could hit the runway any moment when in reality you are not high enough to be a model.

There’s still some time until the taping starts, James drops by to say hello and tell you how excited he is to have you and Harry on tonight and you chit-chat for a little before you go to take a quick business call outside. When you’re done with that, you head back to your dressing room to take a few quick photos to post later, but right as you near your destination, a door swings open down the hallway and Harry steps out, wearing a black suit, of course, head to toe Gucci. The crispy grey shirt’s first few buttons are left undone, allowing you a glimpse of his toned chest and his necklace with the tiny cross pendant on it.

He looks good. No, he looks absolutely stunning, just like he always does and just the sight of him takes your breath away, forcing you to stop in your tracks when you lay your eyes at him. He spots you as well, stopping to take a look at you before you see a small smile on his perfect pink lips.

“Y/N, hi! You look… gorgeous,” he speaks up lowly, his eyes raking your body up and down.

“I, uhh—Thanks!” you breathe out, feeling already flustered. How are you gonna survive the interview, sitting next to him, talking about what it was like to play a married couple?!

His hand moves a bit and there’s a moment of awkwardness, neither of you really knowing what to do, last time you saw each other you kissed as your hellos, but now it’s not an option, obviously. At last, he moves forward and goes for a hug.

He envelopes you in his arms as you wrap yours around his neck, the warmth of his body bringing you a sense of home and it hits you hard how much you’ve missed him in these five months.

You swear he holds you just a second longer than what would be appropriate before his arms fall from around your frame and you force yourself to let go of him, though every fiber in you is protesting against it.

“How—How have you been?” he asks, his beautiful green eyes finding yours.

“I’m good. I’m good,” you nod. “What about you?”

“Same. Just the… usual stuff.”

“Writing music?” you ask with a soft smile. You still vividly remember those nights you spent together after a long day of filming, crashing at either his or your place and you often found him strumming his guitar in a corner, scribbling words down into his notebook. Sometimes he sang you the songs he came up with, sometimes he kept them to himself.

“Yeah, I’ve been writing a lot lately,” he admits with a shy smile.

Someone calls his name down the hallway and his head snaps up before looking back at you.

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you soon, right?”

“Yeah,” you nod, stepping aside so he can walk past.

“And you really look amazing, Y/N,” he calls after you one last time before jogging down the hallway.

You walk into your dressing room and shutting the door you lean your back against it, huffing heavily as you try to recollect yourself. Somehow, this encounter went really well, because the two of you were civil and respectful, but it was also a painful shock to see him in the flesh again. It was one thing to see pictures of him here and there, but actually meeting him, hugging him, talking to him… you need time to process it all.

Unfortunately, you don’t have much of that. Twenty minutes later you are walked to your spot behind the curtains from where you’ll walk out when James calls your name. Just as you arrive Harry appears as well, casually talking with one of the camera guys, having a laugh and just as he sees you, his eyes fall down your body again and you swear you see him gulp hard before turning his attention back to the man.

“Ready?” he asks upon walking up to you, a hand coming to rest on your lower back. Glancing over your shoulder you look down at his hand, lips parted at the feeling of his welcoming touch. He sees your glance and pulls his hand back quickly. “Sorry, it’s a habit, I guess,” he mumbles, blushing softly.

“It’s fine,” you smile. Of course it’s fine, for what you care, he could throw you over his shoulder like a cave man and run out of the building, you wouldn’t say a word. You want his touch on your body, you’ve been craving it since the moment you last saw him, but are you even allowed to admit it? You have no idea what he is thinking or feeling, you can’t just come right at him like that.

Harry fixes the lapels of his suit jacket, but what he doesn’t see is that the collar of his shirt is kind of stuck under the jacket.

“Your shirt is… let me fix it,” you breathe out and he turns to face you, letting your delicate hands fix his outfit, perfecting the look to the tiniest bit. “There, you look great,” you smile, your hands sliding down his chest before they fall to your sides again.

“Thank you,” he nods smiling back at you before offering an arm that you take gladly. He knows how much you hate high heels and that you are always scared of tripping and falling and being the gentleman that he is, he’ll be the support you need.

The taping soon starts and the two of you stand patiently behind the curtain as James introduces you.

“And now, please welcome the stars of the upcoming hit movie, Don’t Worry Darling! Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N Y/L/N and Harry Styles!”

The crowd starts clapping and cheering as the curtain moves and the two of you walk in, arms linked and Harry makes sure to slow down when you walk down the few little stairs. James welcomes the both of you with two kisses before everyone takes their place, James behind his desk, you and Harry sitting on the couch.

“Thank you so much for dropping by tonight, guys!” James smiles at the two of you.

“Thank you for having us,” Harry nods with a soft smile.

“You both have been guests on the show separately, but tonight you are here as a pair, since your latest movie, Don’t Worry Darling is hitting the theaters this weekend. How are you feeling about that, excited to see the film finally?”

“Very excited,” you nod with a smile. “I can’t wait to see the final version, because obviously we only know the version we envisioned while filming, but the actual movie is going to be something else.”

“Y/N, your role in the movie was originally handed to Florence Pugh who had to step back because she broke her arm,” James points out and you nod.

“Yes, I stepped in her place just about a week before production started and if I’m being honest I was scared that people would prefer to see her in the role, but I had a talk with her actually and she said she helped Olivia, the director to pick out the person to take her place and she said she instantly knew I would be perfect for it, so I trust her.”

“That’s amazing to hear, that the two of you didn’t have any rivalry going on,” James enthuses.

“She actually visited set a few times,” Harry chimes in and you nod.

“Yeah, we had a great time together.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun, the three of you together,” James chuckles. “So, the two of you play a married couple in the film and if I’m not mistaken you didn’t know each other beforehand. Was it hard to get into the roles with not much background on each other?”

“We met up a few times before filming started to get to know each other more and I think we hit it off right away, so it wasn’t hard for me,” Harry speaks up and you nod along.

“It was obviously a little different situation than when you meet someone and become friends, because as we got to know each other more, we had to go through scenes that were meant for a couple that was already years into their relationship, but I think it strengthened our friendship,” you answer, hands laid flat on your bare thighs.

No lie has been told, everything you said was the truth. You just left out the part where you become real life lovers and started dating a month into production.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting for a while now, have quite a few roles under your belt, what did you think of Harry’s acting?”

“I think that he is a wonderful actor and I hope people will give him his much deserved credit for it. He is often still seen as just a silly singer from a former boy band and they don’t take him seriously when he really is a very talented man. You’ll see in the movie as well, his role was a tough one, needed a lot of work and a wide range of emotions, but I think he did an amazing job.”

You dare to glance at him at the end of your little speech and for a moment you forget about the audience, James and the cameras. He is looking at you with so much gratitude and thankfulness. You remember every talk you had where he opened up to you about wanting to be taken seriously in the acting business, that he is not trying to be just a joke and another failed attempt of a singer to try himself out in movies. He told you how scared he is of not being good enough when you saw him every day on set and you were blown by his eternal talent and special take on his role. He deserves to be praised, he deserves every bit of it.

“It was easy, I had a great partner to learn from,” he smiles softly and you feel the heat crawling up your neck.

“You two really have the chemistry we’ve heard so much about, I can’t wait to see it on the big screen!” James sighs. “Tell me a little about what it was like to film? You guys spent a lot of time together, must have made a lot of memories.”

You take a deep breath as all those memories mentioned flood your mind. You had the best time of your life not just with Harry, but with the whole crew. Leaving after production was wrapped really broke your heart.

“It didn’t even feel like working,” Harry starts. “We always joked around, had lunch or dinner together, we were like a big family. It was so nice to have so many amazing, talented and hard-working people around you all day.”

“The jokes never stopped,” you add chuckling.

“I wish I could have been on set!” James laughs wholeheartedly. “That didn’t happen, but we have a little something. The crew has put together a short BTS video of the filming, so let’s have a look at that,” he announces and the video starts playing on every screen in the studio.

It’s a short little montage, but it captures the vibes of filming just perfectly. Clips shown from set are not just of you and Harry, but all the other cast and crew members. Goofing around, having lots and lots of laughs, dancing on set, which happened quite often and just all of you having a great time. Some of the slips however pain your chest, the ones of you and Harry.

This was very early into your relationship, no one on set even knew you were together, but seeing yourself on the screen you can’t deny the sparkles in your eyes every time you were around him.

A clip shows the two of you between two takes, doing a goofy dance in the kitchen of the home that was used as the set of the house of your characters, you are both wearing your costumes, Harry looks great in his suit and your long retro dress is flowing around you with every movement you make. He grabs you by your waist and spins you before you end up in his arms laughing crazily, you were so happy, so carefree. You wish you could go back to that moment…

Another footage was taken in your trailer when Harry took the place of Clare, your makeup artist and tried to do your eyeliner but miserably failed. In the video, he is gently clasping your chin, angling your face for himself as his other hand is working on the line, but it’s wobbly and way too thick, so you both end up just laughing when you check yourself in the mirror.

And there are some small moments of the two of you, moving around on set, lying in bed between takes, sitting in your chairs while eating, just tiny memories you still cherish so much and wish to live through again, but it’s the past. And it wouldn’t hurt this much if you knew Harry from the video was still yours.

When the video ends you need to blink a few times as your eyes have watered a little. You catch Harry’s gaze and he looks worried, he clearly wants to ask if you’re okay, make sure it was just the sentimentality of the moment, but he doesn’t have the chance, the cameras are still rolling.

“That looked like so much fun! Next time make sure to invite me on set too!” James jokes and you force a laugh out of yourself.

A few questions are asked about future plans and just generally about your careers before the taping finally ends. You thank James for the invite again and a photo is taken of the three of you, you standing in the middle with the two men on your sides. When everything is settled, you head to your dressing room, using the chance to slip away silently while Harry is still chit-chatting on the set.

In the comfort and silence of the dressing room, you lean onto the vanity, staring at yourself in the mirror, finding it ironic that on the outside, you look perfectly fine, healthy and pretty, but on the inside… you could scream. You miss Harry so much, you hoped that your feelings for him have toned down a little over these five months, but it was just the same if not even worse.

A faint knock is heard on the door and you quickly fix yourself before calling out to the person outside. The door opens and for your surprise, Harry steps inside, closing the door behind him.

“Hey, you disappeared so fast,” he softly says.

“Yeah, I’m just… a little tired,” you lie, though you know exactly he can see right through you.

“Y/N, I saw that look in your eyes after the video…”

“What look?” you ask with a huff. “What do you want me to say, Harry?”

“The truth,” he answers. “I’m not James, don’t bullshit me.”

“You want the truth? I’ll give it to you, but don’t blame me if it’s uncomfortable for you,” you chuckle bitterly, throwing your hands into the air. “I’ve been miserable, Harry. I miss you so fucking much, seeing you today was like Hell. I really thought it would be easier, but now I’m stuck with going from one interview to the other with red carpet events all around the world, seeing you every day when I terribly miss you and it fucking sucks, because you might not even feel the sa—“

You don’t get to finish, because Harry crosses the distance between the two of you, his hands grab your face and pulls you into a hard and passionate kiss. His lips move perfectly against yours and it feels like he is trying to squeeze every missed moment from the past five months into the kiss, making you melt into his arms completely.

He is everywhere. He is all you can taste, you breathe him in, his hands are everywhere on your body and your chest is pressed tight against his as you wrap your arms around his neck, locking him into your embrace. Your tongues dance, teeth tugging and pulling on lips, it’s a whole mess, but it’s the most perfect mess you’ve ever been. He takes your breath away completely and you don’t even want it back if it means you can’t have him.

Harry pulls away first, both your chests heaving wildly from the heavy make-out session and he looks down at you with hooded eyes.

“If you think I haven’t missed you like crazy… you can’t be more wrong, baby. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I wanted to call you a thousand times and beg for you to come back to me, but I thought you already moved on.”

“Moving on?!” you huff with a tired smile. “Harry, I could never…”

“Alright, then I’m not letting you go again. No way you are walking out of this building without being mine again.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words as you pull him down for another kiss, needing to feel his lips on yours.

“I never stopped being yours,” you whisper against his lips and he moans weakly before crashing his lips against yours again.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x famous!reader #harry styles exlovers to lovers #harry styles blurb

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lchufflepuffcorn · 4 years

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Being the batmom

Author’s note: Okay so, Batmom here. I want to say that it was posted two days before on my patreon (you can check it out here). I’M also present on ko-fi if you prefer. You can also catch my masterlist here if you want to read more of my things. Please feel free to request or ask any question you’d like.

Words: 2404

Warning: Fluff, a little of angst (it’s the batman fandom we’re talking about). English is not my first language.

Dick is eight and orphaned when he's taken in by Bruce Wayne, millionaire and philanthrope of Gotham City. This, by the way, is very different from the circus the poor boy was taken from after his parent's death. Dick is not feeling good about being taken in by that cold and distant man, and even less with the wife he has and is giving him so many warm smiles. That woman is not on Dick's right side, it feels like she wants to take his mother's place, and his mother's corpse isn't even cold yet. He doesn't like that at all.

When Dick tries to ask why Bruce as taken him in, the man either ignores him or tells him they'll talk about that at another time. And that Wayne's wife is still smiling warmly like his mother used to. He doesn't like it.

But as weeks go by and months follows, Dick starts seeing the looks (Y/N) is giving her husband when he ignores her. Dick doesn't respond when she speaks to him if he ignores her, then she can't take his mother's place, can she? He can sometimes catch low voices talking about him when he walks in the manor's cold corridors. He'll never admit it, but he still gets lots most of the time.

''He doesn't like me.'' Your voice says, and behind the nearly closed door, Dick stops walking to listen.

''He just lost his mother, give him some time, darling.'' Respond Bruce, and Dick can see him rub your back tenderly. He never saw that type of affection between the two of you before.

''But I've tried everything; he doesn't respond to me, even less look at me anymore. I don't know what else I can do.'' The sob in your voice makes Dick feel guilty, even more so because he knows that he's not supposed to hear this conversation. So he walks away without making sound and tries his best to go back to his room.

It does take him some more months before he can talk to you without seeing his mother's face instead of yours, but at least he's not ignoring you anymore. That's around that time that he becomes Robin.

And now he can see you fret. You're nervous when they leave, and you're ecstatic when they come back, he can catch you mutter angrily under your breath at Bruce when they come back with scratches and whatnots. For the first time in months, he feels warm. After it, he feels terrible for thinking of you as a good mother, because he feels like it's insulting his.

Dick is fifteen when he first gets too close to experiencing death. ANd it's you again that makes him realize that.

''Get him killed, why don't you!'' You growl in a whisper while bandaging Bruce in your room. ''We just got a kid, don't lose him just yet! I swear your worst than a child yourself.''

Dick sit's outside of your room to listen to you. Tonight's mission was particularly hard, and Bruce took a knife in the leg, pushing him out of the fight. So he wanted to thank him properly, and excuse himself. But your voice stopped the teenager from entering.

''I won't let him get killed, (Y/N)...'' tries to say the man, but you cut him before he finishes his sentence.

''You shouldn't have let him become your sidekick. It's too dangerous.''

''I had everything under control...'' tries Bruce again.

''You had nothing -nothing- under your control, Bruce. Richard could have died.''

''Dick is a bright kid...''

''Exactly, he's a kid!''

Your voice is not a whisper anymore. You're screaming, and Dick feels the same drops in his stomach than when his birth parents were fighting while he was supposed to be sleeping.

Dick is seventeen when his heart gets broken for the first time. And it's because of Bruce nonetheless. He feels betrayed and angry, and all he can think of is to leave the manor. He can't understand why Bruce would hide such a thing from him, his parent's killer. There's a part of him that wants to find a reasonable way to see that matter, but all the rest just want to punch the millionaire. That's when you come into the portrait.

Dick comes into your room one night when Bruce is still working. It's been weeks since they both talked last. The boy feels like a child all over again when you just open your arms at him.

''I'm sorry, Mom.'' It's the first time he calls you that. Your heart races for a little while at the word. But you don't ask questions even if you see his school bag balanced on his shoulder and the suitcase near your door.

''It's okay, you have some friends with you? Do you need money?'' Is all you ask. You can't really expect him to stay. You can understand the feeling of being betrayed. You've already talked to Bruce about it, but you'll have to do it again, that man is stubborn.

''Yeah, I just need some time.''

''It's okay.'' Dick wiggles out of your embrace, but before he can leave the bedroom, you call for him again. ''If you need anything, call me at any time, okay?''

Your boy just smiles and nods before exiting.

It's one or two years later that Bruce comes home with, let's say, a surprise. You were consulted before Dick entered the family, but now, apparently, it's just a way to numb Bruce's pain from missing your son. Dick still calls you, and you go around for breakfast most of the time, but Bruce and Dick are not on talking terms just yet.

The teenager Bruce brings back during the night is the same. He told you tried to steal the Batmobile tyres the week before. Are you feeling safe, not really, but Bruce seems to think he can help the boy, so you figure 'why not.' You're thirty-six now, and the boy doesn't look much older than Dick was when he was adopted.

As it's what the boy names himself, Jason is broody and, as a harsh, looks in his eyes, but your smile doesn't falter.

He gets comfortable around you. Comfortable enough to let you play with his hair when he has nightmares, let you hug him before he leaves for school, or for a mission and comfortable enough to sleep with his head on your shoulder while Bruces drives you from a party that the Wayne Enterprise held. Jason his a mama boy, and it shows, but he doesn't take well that you try to give him rules to follow.

It's Bruce who has more difficulties with that.

You try to talk to both of them, but each time, it's about the same answers.

''But, mom, I don't understand why we just arrest hi. He gets out every time! And he ends up hurting more people than the last time.''

''Jason, I can understand why you're frustrated about that. But life doesn't work that way. Murder is murder, even if the Joker is a bad person.''

Usually, that's enough for Jason to huff and leave the room until dinner.

When you try talking to Bruce about it, that's when it gets tricky.

''Maybe you could talk to him about it? He's still a kid after all...''

Bruce only shrugged.

''You think I don't try? He's not mature enough to understand. Dick understood...''

''Dick saw his parents get killed, but he too was angry when you lied about Zucco.'' You're angry now. It's always like this when Bruce talks about Jason, he's not as good as Dick, Dick was better, Dick was this, Dick was that. ''Jason is not Dick, Bruce, they're different.'' You leave your husband to the darkness of the bat-cave, so he can reflect on your words, once again. Sometimes, it's just better that way.

Contrarily to Richard, Jason is not one to take pictures with you, but you have some that were not made by journalists. They rest with Dick's photos on the principal living room's chimney, where you're always found reading or watching TV or painting and drawing. The one that has big windows and a magnificent view of the garden.

That's typically where Jason would find himself after a hard night of vigilanting with Bruce. He's tired, the mission that the Young Justice League just achieved had been both emotionally and physically tiring, and all your boy wants is a hug. That's how Bruce finds both of you in the living room, you, currently watching a TV show and Jason, head buried in your shoulder, practically sitting on your laps while your fingers were playing with a string of his hair.

Bruce called you on his way back from Ethiopia. And you cried a lot that night and the whole week after too. You can't bring yourself to look at the coffin, he's so small.

You can't talk to Bruce for a while, the mear thought of being in the same piece as he makes you want to cry. It's not Bruce's fault that Jason died, but he could have prevented it, and as a mother, you need to deal with your child's death alone.

Bruce's too changes after Jason's death, for example, his nightly missions are becoming even more bloody. That's when Dick calls you.

''Mom, I really think Bruce needs therapy.''

''You and I both, baby bird.''

You talk for sometimes before a voice cuts into your conversation.

''Who's that, Richard?''

''That, Mother, would be the next Robin.'' Your heart sinks toward your heels as you rise from your seat.

''Bruce doesn't want another. I don't want another... accident myself.''

There's a moment of silence on the line before Dick sighs.

''Just give Tim a chance, okay.'' You mumble under your breath, agreeing.

Tim is different from the others. For one, he has living parents. But that doesn't stop him from calling you his mama. When you ask, he answers that he calls his mother, mom, but you're his mama, because you chose him. He takes Jason's place in the Young Justice League, just like Jasons did with Dick.

That's until his mother dies and his father falls into a coma. Then Tim comes live with you for some time. Dick comes and goes at the same time, he starts talking to Bruce once more again. They're not as friendly as they once were, but Dick's smile brings back Tim's, so Bruce is happy about it too. Tim is the antidepressant that Bruce needed. Your husband did not see a therapist like you asked, but Black Canary tells you that he is way better than he once was.

Tim's father comes back from his coma, and he leaves your house to go back with him. Once again, your life becomes grey. Still, Dick and Barbara come once in a while to talk with you, and Alfred is actually very good at playing chess. Then, Tim's father dies too, and he comes back to the manor. You're thirty-seven now.

''Do you think we'll have children who are not traumatized by death and want to become like you?'' You ask one night as Bruce is getting ready to join you in bed. Even in the bathroom's dim light, you can see the bruises that he seems to collects on his back and arms and legs. Also, his chest seems covered in blue discolorations.

What you're not aware of are Tim's microchips as installed all around the house and that he's listening.

''Why, you don't like the lifestyle?'' Question's Bruce back, a smirk on his lips.

Tim focuses on the sound coming from your bedroom, he's suddenly curious. From the news and the way Dick talks about you, you're a really nice woman, and Tim's experience with you proves it, but he wants to know more about what you think of this lifestyle like Bruce said.

''You know what I mean...'' you start again, but Tim can hear the smile in your voice. ''I just think that they shouldn't be heroes. They're children... it's a dangerous lifestyle.''

Bruce sighs and comes to join you on the bed, but just like you are under the covers, he's on top of them. He kisses your nose gently before rolling to his place next to you.

''I never forced any of them, you know.''

''I know.'' Your hand brushes again, his chest tenderly. '' It's just that I never thought having children would be this dangerous. I just want a normal family...''

At that, Bruce only answers by bringing your hand to his mouth and kiss it.

That night is when Red Hood appeared.

It was all crazy time between Red Hood and apparently Jason was back, and Tim was angry at Bruce, and now Bruce had a blood-related child of his own? Now that you didn't take it very well. And Bruce couldn't really explain either. But the kid seems to find you interesting.

First of all, Grayson talk only kindly about you, so of course he's curious, not that he gives much concern about what Dick thinks. Though he's not home often, Jason is always lovely with you, weakness, but at the same time, you do have a gorgeous smile that makes the child want your hugs too. Tim -now, Tim is not Damian's favourite, but he does have some interest. And Tim is head-over-heels about you.

Most of all, the three boys call you a variant of 'mother,' Barbara is always smiling when she comes home, and you're there, which is not the case when it's only his father, and Alfred had nothing but good things to say about you when he asked.

Damian's pretty sure that you're the one who made his father agree about the cow he's keeping. But there are still no shreds of evidence of this certitude yet.

Damian's still trying to see up to where he can push things with you. As of yesterday, when he called you 'Umi' and you didn't react except for answering, ''Yes?'' he still doesn't know if it's because you were the only one in the room so you answered or if it's because you know what that word means. So he'll have to experiment again.

In short, being the Batmom is being a nervous wreck who likes hugs and is full of patience for both your husband and children.

#Batman #batman imagines #Bruce wayne x reader #fem!reader #x reader imagines #batmom imagines #dick grayson x reader #damian wayne x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #robin x reader #robins x batmom #red hood x reader #red robin x reader #batman x reader #nightwing x reader #barbara gordon x reader #alfred pennyworth #justice league imagine

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la-fille-en-aiguilles · 5 years

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Blackout | Random One-Shot Series, #1

Billy Russo x Female Reader

I’ve been through a major blackout this week, it got me thinking and this just happened. There’s another Blackout scenario I’m finishing, I’ll try to post it next week. For those lovely people who requested Matt Murdock stories, I’m still on them. Sorry for this delay in delivery, I blame Billy Russo.

Warnings: S.M.U.T.

Synopsis: you and Billy are best buddies, always have been. And it seems like nothing could change that. Well, except for a blackout, maybe.

“…you know, maybe I should just give up on men already. Start playing for the other team.”

Billy chuckles and shakes his head, his eyes skimming over the photos that you and him took earlier today at this gallery you somehow managed to drag him to. When his thumb swipes right to see yet another photo, your face suddenly takes up the entire screen, your full red lips forming a heart, a fucking sinful pout, your shimmering eyes watching him with such playfulness and boldness, he is instantly drawn to them and stunned speechless.

When did you manage to take this photo anyway?...

“What can I say, it’ll be our loss,” Billy answers hurriedly before you come back to his room from the bathroom wondering what the hell has got his tongue.

He can actually think of a few things, his hooded eyes still glued to the screen. His tongue sure would feel like home on those plump lips, among other places…

“He suggested that we hang out. When did hanging out even become a thing?! What does that even supposed to mean? ” you muse as the shower stops running, and Billy curses himself mentally, trying to ignore the tense feeling in his groin.

Dimming the screen of his phone, he throws it on the bed by his side. With his eyes fixed on the empty doorway leading to the bathroom, he tries to do his best to relax, allowing his back to hit the pillows.

“I don’t know,” he considers it out loud, biting the inside of his cheek. “Maybe it means, like, let’s spend some quality time together, you know?”

Get naked, have lots of sex and maybe even dinner?, his mind spirals back to your lips.

What the fuck is wrong with him.

Your laugh is the prettiest thing he has ever heard – and felt. As he takes in the smooth melody, goosebumps immediately spread all over his body, awakening his senses. Like some sort of a top-quality drug, spreading in his veins, getting his entire body tingle with excitement.

God damn, he has it bad.

“Is that what you mean when you ask me to hang out?” before he can even realize he said what he thinks he thought out loud, you step into his bedroom, and he nearly groans, and chokes on his own saliva.

With your hair curled at the ends, the front strands rolled back in some kind of a retro style, your lips still sinner red, you stand in front of him wearing black stockings that hit you just a couple of inches above your knees and one of his dress shirts, because you probably couldn’t find a bathrobe.

He considers thinking about dead puppies, but his mind already pictures his hands sliding up your thighs as he fucks you into the wall…

“No,” he lets out in a husky voice, flicking his eyes to your face, illuminated with a completely oblivious smile. “I could never-” he stutters, “I’d never want to do that to you… I mean, with you…”, watching your expression darken up some, he suddenly realizes it all comes out wrong.

Bloody hell, just shut your trap up!

“I mean, we’re buddies, right?” Billy finally manages weakly, hating himself for every word that leaves his mouth. “We can never be…”, he even considers just stopping talking all together, your smile having disappeared entirely, and having been replaced by a small frown and a pout.

That fucking pout.

“All I’m saying, is…” Billy rakes his fingers through his thick mane of hair, exasperated and fed up with himself. “…I don’t think this kind of hanging out can ever be our thing”.

Just when he breathes out, thinking it could have gone so much worse, his eyes shift back to your face. The next thing he knows you snap at him, your hands on your hips.

“Of course not,” Billy can sense metal ringing in every word. “Besides, hanging out would never cut it for me.”

With these words, you’re a whirlwind of cotton, hair and lipstick, as you turn on your heels and power walk back to the bathroom, tense and frustrated.

Billy feels like a blithering idiot, staring at the spot where you’ve been standing seconds ago. Moaning softly and biting his bottom lip, he buries his face in his hands.

He’d really better get his libido in line, before he drives you away with his horrendous stupidity and infinite babbling that doesn’t even make sense.

Your ringtone goes off in the bathroom all of the sudden, somewhat shaking Billy out of his stupor. You take a moment to answer, swearing under your breath as Billy hears something clutter against the tile floors, probably your perfume.

“Hey, Karen. What’s up?” It seems to him that you sound completely off, some kind of emotion that you’re trying to desperately fight raw in your voice. You clear your throat, and the sound makes Billy’s entire body go cold.

You are not angry. You’re disappointed, and you’re doing a pretty shitty job trying to mask it.

“Okay, okay, don’t freak out, Bill and I will think of something,” you dash out of the bathroom and back into where Billy sits. You widen your eyes at him, as if sending him silent signals. “He’s going to call Frank right now, and tell him he needs him to pass by his place. We’ll think of some excuse,” worry laces your every word, and Billy is up on his feet, alert as his Marine senses kick in. Even though he knows it’s just a goddamn surprise birthday party, and nobody’s in danger. For now. “Worst case scenario, he gets to your place before the guests do. It’s still going to be a hell of a surprise!”

You close your mouth abruptly. Billy watches you with concern in his dark eyes, and just as he reaches out and wraps his fingers around your wrist, the lights in his apartment go off, and the entire room is drowned in pitch-black darkness.

Something’s happening on the other end of the line, Billy can tell, as you call Karen’s name a couple of times. He lights up the flash on his phone with his free hand, blinking a couple of times.

“Hell’s Kitchen has shitty cellphone service as it is,” Billy tries to reassure in a hushed voice even though he knows better than to speak. “The citywide blackout sure ain’t helping”.

He instantly regrets having opened his mouth as your eyes shoot daggers at him in the light that his iPhone’s emanating.

“Yeah, no shit, Russo,” you scoff at him.

Before Billy can even open his mouth and retort, he finally hears Karen’s voice, and you shake Billy’s grip off your hand, without even looking at him. Your voice is a tad strangled but still firm as you tell Karen that the blackout might slow Frank down. You also tell her to stay put while Billy calls him to see where he’s at.

As you drop the call, you put the flash on your iPhone on and return back to the bathroom, not saying a word.

Having watched you disappear, Billy drops back on the couch, sighing, still trying to wrap his head around how much of a fucking retard he is. He lights his phone up, only to see the No Service message in bold white letters. Muttering a curse under his breath, he flicks the flash mode off, so he’s left sitting in the darkness, his eyes fixed on the light coming from the bathroom.

“I’ve got zero service, but I still can get hold of my guys so they can track ‘im ,” Billy suggests, his thumb rubbing against his phone’s screen in a nervous gesture.

“Do that then,” his heart breaks a little as he hears you answer cooly, like you couldn’t give less crap about what he does. “We’ll be going in five, just let me get dressed”.

Silence settles in the room until you curse under your breath, the light in the bathroom going off. Your phone must have died.

“So the hanging out guy”, he hates the begging tones in his voice, but Billy speaks up anyway, clearing his throat. He knows that probably makes him a coward, but he finds it easier to voice his thoughts while being immersed in darkness. “Did you tell ‘im that? That hanging out doesn’t cut it for you?” he asks, not even sure he wants to know the answer. Because what if she didn’t?

What if she took him up on his offer?

Billy doesn’t know how he’ll be able to handle that.

He hears you scoff almost immediately at his lame questions while you’re in the middle of the fucking blackout, but he still prepares himself for the answer, whatever it might be.

“Oh yeah,” you reappear back in his room, carrying your little burgundy dress on a hanger in one hand, and a pair of killer Loubotin shoes in the other. Knowing you’ll probably need light, Billy lights up his phone again. “I told him to fuck off and call me when he grows a pair… which is never going to happen, so I’m sure as hell safe”.

Billy can feel the colour drain from his cheeks as he suddenly realizes you may not be talking about that pathetic loser who suggested that you and him hang out, because he is a fucking coward and couldn’t ask you out on a proper date.

As you make a point out of ignoring him, Billy wants to smash his head against the wall.

And then it finally hits him.

Yeah, actually, you are still talking about that loser.

That loser being him.

He squeezes his eyes shut at first, as he hears you hassle behind his back, not saying a word; when suddenly something pushes him up onto his feet, a surge of adrenaline, the sentiment of now-or-never beating his common sense into submission, relative darkness encouraging him to do something he knows he might regret.

Billy turns around to face you, and from the moment he’s struck dumb by the sight before his eyes, he knows this entire situation is going haywire.

His eyes hit your bare shoulders and exposed back. His stare slides down with the shirt that you are taking off, standing with his back to him. His eyes go wide and his pupils are blown out with lust as he catches a glimpse of the black lace underwear. As if sensing his burning stare, you half turn your head… Your eyes lock.

His breathing has yet to return to normal, but the next thing he knows, Billy is crushing your soft body into the cool wall, his fingers digging into your hips, his mouth ruining that vampire pout of yours. Biting and gnawing on your lips, he is surprised when you push your tongue into his mouth, your fingers snaking into his hair, pulling at it harshly.

With some kind of wild energy pumping through his veins, fire of lust licking at the corners of his mind, Billy drags his lips along your neck and collarbone, running his fingertips along the lace-covered underside of your breasts.

“Fuck, Billy,” you moan, your voice barely audible, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t tease”.

The way you say his name strikes deep within him, his erection rock hard and pressed against where you need him most, he likes to think.

He has to remind himself that you have no idea how many times he has fucked his own hand pretending it was your lips wrapped around his cock.

“I’m going to make you come into my mouth and then I’m taking you to bed”, Billy can feel a thorough shiver raking through you as he whispers the words against your swollen lips. A moan that escapes them is downright scandalous and Billy would chuckle if you didn’t unclasp your bra, silently surrendering yourself to him.

As Billy takes one of your breasts into his mouth, puckering his lips against your skin, you gasp, your hips moving forward. It’s only moments before Billy drops to his knees, his fingers rolling black lace down your legs. Billy’s tongue laps against the swollen bud of nerve endings between your thighs. His lips wrap around you, as he slides a finger up your wet, shuddering core.

With his dick pressing painfully against the fly of his trousers, Billy hears you moan his name again. When he looks up, he sees you open your eyes, watching him fuck you with his fingers. He feels you tighten around him, your eyes rolling back as you come, screaming his name and squeezing his hand in between your soft thighs, riding out your high…

—

“Stop staring at me,” you whisper with your eyes closed, feeling Billy’s dark eyes on you. He doesn’t say anything, just chuckles hoarsely and dives down, hovering over your body. His lips burn your bare hipbones as his hands squeeze as much of your ass as he can reach, your skin orange in the rays of the morning sun.

“God, Russo, you’re insatiable,” you growl, but Billy knows you’re hiding a smile as you bury your face in a pillow.

“You have no idea,” Billy smirks, kissing the spot just above your belly button this time. His lips don’t waver as he takes this party lower.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and Billy lifts himself up in response, his hungry lips crashing down on yours.

Leaving you breathless, Billy hovers over you, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Do you think we fucked up Frank’s surprise birthday party?” you ask him, cupping his cheek with one of your hands. “I can’t believe we missed the entire happening. Karen is going to kill us both.”

Billy brushes his lips against yours one more time and from the soft yet mischievous look in his eyes you can tell he has absolutely zero regrets.

“She hasn’t called, so I think they didn’t miss us much”, he wets his bottom lip. “Fifty bucks says they know what we were up to, and probably drank a round of shots to celebrate”.

You roll yours eyes at him, but you know what he says makes sense. This dancing around each other and ‘we’re just friends’ crap was getting old, especially for Karen and Frank.

“So what now?” you ask him.

The stare of those bottomless eyes burns again, possibly more that his touch as his hand slides up and down your ribs under the blanket. You bite on your bottom lip, hard, trying to keep a loud moan in.

“I don’t know,” Billy looks like he weighs his options. “You want to maybe hang out?’

This wasn’t what you expected, not by a very long shot. It’s out of your control as you gasp at the nerve of him, gripping his roaming hand so hard he actually winces, the Marine that he is.

“Hey, easy there, m’love,” you freeze as the nickname reaches your ears. Billy uses your reaction to free his hand, bringing it to your face. His mouth is mere inches away from yours, and you feel your stomach erupt with what feels like hippopotamuses doing an Irish dance. “What I meant is have lots of sex, and maybe even a breakfast date?...”

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #the punisher imagine #the punisher #billy russo imagine #ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #billy russo x you #billy russo smut #ben barnes smut

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felixnation · 3 years

Text

THE TOP 10 WORST KPOP SONGS OF 2020

(WARNING: I DON’T LIKE THESE SONGS AND WILL BE MEAN AT THEM. I DO NOT HAVE ANY PERSONAL BEEF WITH ANY OF THESE GROUPS OR ARTISTS SO DON’T COME FOR ME IF YOUR FAVE MADE A STINKER TRACK THIS YEAR.)

Ah, 2020. The year where disco came back, the 80s came back, and everyone was titling their songs after nonsense words. It was a good year for k-pop overall, with a lot of new trends entering the game towards the end of summer. However, there were some real clunkers that refused to get out of my head this quarantine and pissed me off to varying degrees each time I heard them. This list is an attempt to chronicle all of those.

So without further ado, let’s get this shit done.

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

NCT 127 - PUNCH This isn't actually a bad song, hence it only making it to the honorable mentions section. In fact, I think this could've easily made the best list had it not been for one thing, and that's the presence of NCT 127, namely their rap line. The instrumental on this thing is absolutely killer and one of the best productions to come out of SM in a long time. The entire thing is bizarrely structured and incredibly gutsy, and therefore I think it's a travesty that an instrumental this incredible was drowned in ASMR-esque whispers and EYYYY WE BALLINs. There are a few salvageable sections, namely the first post-chorus, and we see glimmers of NCT 127's true potential, should they choose to explore this sound further.

CIGNATURE - NUN NU NAN NA Similar to Punch, I admire the production choices here - there are a few sections that blast you with 100gecs-esque womps, and that's always something I enjoy. The vast majority of the song rarely dips below decent territory, but since the entire thing hinges on the titular hook, it ends up falling apart right when it needs to bring the hype the most. I mean, building a hook around those notes was...an interesting choice, I guess. It reminds me a lot of fromis_9's FUN!, which also constructed the entire song around a terrible set of notes. Listen to them yell that hook at you and tell me it doesn't sound off. Most frustrating song of 2020.

ONG SEONG WU - GRAVITY Have you ever heard a drop this weak? I sure haven't. I hate the way he says DIVING INTO YOUR LOVE, the over-enunciation kills me and there's one syllable too many. Also, thanks Ong Seong Wu for giving CRAVITY the promo they deserve.

BTS - FLY TO MY ROOM I can't relax while listening to this, the beat is so sparse and has this nauseous sway to it that really makes me feel like I'm reliving these past 9 months of quarantine all over again. And just like quarantine, it really feels like this goddamn thing never ends. That final set of choruses is really a chore to get through, and I'm not the only one who thinks so - shout out to Taehyung for serving taste and I'm sorry Jimin convinced you to sing out of your natural range yet again.

TREASURE - MMM Ew.

I*ZONE - FIESTA It's a pretty standard girl group song up until that chorus hits and oh my god, who on earth produced this? Are they actively trying to trigger my psychosis? There are so many sounds happening that it feels like three or four demo tracks laid on top of each other, it makes me confused even trying to figure out what's going on here. And that post-chorus drop is horrendous, it's like the instrumental is literally screaming into my ear STREAM BLOOM*IZ!!! STREAM BLOOM*IZ YOU DUMB CUCK!!! YOU LOVE IT!!!

NOW FOR THE REAL LIST.

#10: TAEYEON - HAPPY

I do not like this. Taeyeon has one of the most powerful voices in the industry and instead of putting it to good use, she decided to put out the musical equivalent of eating a stick of butter. Bland, horrible texture, seems to go on forever and ever, you know you shouldn't be consuming it and you don't know why you're doing this to yourself, etc.

The MV contributed to my dislike, with Taeyeon whitewashed all the way into uncanny valley as she lounges around her beautiful apartment. Well of course you'd be happy if you lived in a place like that, I know I would. The sad thing is that there's some really nice vocal work here and there, but for the majority of the song, Taeyeon decides to serenade us in the most nasal tone that she can muster. I know she can sing better than this, and I'm disappointed in her for creating this and unleashing it on the world.

#9: WEKI MEKI - OOPSY

Whereas Picky Picky was annoying in the best way possible, Oopsy is annoying in the worst way possible. The instrumental legitimately sounds cheap, the drums sound so tinny and artificial that it's hard on the ears. Not to mention the hook, wherein the girls force their voices as high as they can go as they proclaim OOPSY!

I'm a huge fan of cute concepts, but when it comes to putting out a high-energy sugary track like this, you're walking a fine line between adorable and irritating. Weki Meki didn't even try to walk the line, they just dove headfirst into irritating territory without a care in the world. It literally feels like the audio equivalent of having to hold a whiny toddler and then it pisses itself and the mom is just cooing about how her little darling made an oopsy.

#8: VICTON - MAYDAY

It feels like for most of the year, the vast majority of boy groups were stuck in a rut, knee-deep in sludgy EDM and leather harnesses. You know the songs I'm talking about, and I could've put any one of them here, but I chose this one purely because that chorus makes me feel like I have a concussion. I don't like this song nor the trend it's representative of - I spent most of quarantine having the same dark BG concepts thrown at me over and over and I'm glad things are starting to take a bit of a turn.

The bridge on this is actually pretty great, and the guys in VICTON do know how to sing, as can be seen in the final post-chorus. But man, there's just nothing fresh being brought to the table here, just the same stale trends in their worst form yet. The hook is so slow and drowsy, the same few notes just repeated over and over. I have not seen the MV because I feel like I can picture it well enough in my head just by listening. Are there harnesses? Don't forget those, boys.

#7: MCND - SPRING

Only Pentagon are allowed to do these concepts.

#6: HYO, LOOPY, SOYEON - DESSERT

This is genuinely unlistenable as soon as the drop hits, with a vocal stitching job that might be a horn synth, I'm not sure. That's how annoying it is. The producer is clearly incompetent and the performers are oozing with personality, though not the pleasant sort. The hook is bratty and the raps here are beyond generic. After the halfway point, there are a couple interesting sounds thrown into the mix, but it's not enough to save things.

Soyeon in particular sounds awful here, with her iconic nasally tone morphing into something genuinely irritating and borderline spiteful. Age up the toddler from the Oopsy comparison to around 7 or 8 and that's basically what you've got here. All I can hope is that this song is not influential in any way, shape or form, because I just had a vision of Blackpink imitating this production style and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

#5: SECRET NUMBER - WHO DIS?

I'm not sure how many Secret Number fans are out there, but I'm about to make all of em real mad at me right about now. However, it must be said.

This is basically Your Turn by Kaachi again.

I don't think I need to explain that hot take, just listen to the song. It's surprisingly amateurish, to the point where I feel like the vocals aren't in sync and they just used the first take they got from each girl. The raps in particular are awful, and I swear they even sound like they go off-key a couple of times. How this blew up in any aspect is bizarre to me. Anyways, stream Photo Magic and stan Kaachi.

#4: BAEKHYUN - CANDY

Did you want a k-pop version of Yummy by Justin Bieber? No? Well, Baekhyun decided to make it anyways! At least Yummy was sort of funny in how bad it is, this is just...a somber affair. Inexplicably, he manages to oversing the final third of the song, which I don't get the point of, but okay. Lazy, underproduced and overproduced at the same time, bland, boring, annoying...

Wait, did he just say...

Okay, I changed my mind, this is hysterical. Like Pop rocks, strawberry, bubble gum...

#3: (G)-IDLE - DUMDI DUMDI

I'm so sick of this group's 'ethnic' schtick, it's like they never learn. They just don't give a fuck - after a string of genuinely great tracks like Hann, Lion, and Oh My God, they just decide to put out this shit and expect me to listen to it? They're a group with a lot of potential, with some brilliant vocalists and the talent that is Soyeon (who really loves being on this list, apparently) but if they continue down the path of using different cultures as concepts I can't support them any further.

The song itself has salvageable parts, a recurring theme on this list, but the over-the-top tribal influences are so obvious and tropey that even listening to it feels gross. (G)-Idle have more creative control than most groups, and the fact that they're capable of creating works of art like Lion is what makes me harsh on them. Instead of moving forward, they continue to regress into their comfort zone of cultural appropriation.

#2 YOOA - BON VOYAGE

Speaking of cultural appropriation...are we gonna address this? Nah? Okay.

Oh My Girl, YooA's parent group, has a history of blatant cultural appropriation (and arguably some legit racist moments depending on how you look at it) and they seem like they're not changing anytime soon. That's why this particular song stings even more than it probably should. If you thought Dumdi Dumdi's tribal influences were a little too on the nose, take a listen to this chorus.

YooA has a bad voice, is wearing tribal face paint, and is running around the wilderness whitewashed into oblivion while a choir of nameless voices chant vaguely tribal things behind her. Even in an industry like k-pop, this sticks out as something in bafflingly poor taste, and I can't see how she got away with this in 2020.

#1 BLACKPINK & SELENA GOMEZ - ICE CREAM

Well, this is a predictable pick.

I don't know why or how Blackpink thought they could get away with drip-feeding blinks content for 4 goddamn years in the lead-up to their first album, only to drop this big fat clunker on them. I honestly felt insulted by the song, from its cheap, tinny production to the god-awful lyrics. I don't know how anyone could find any value in a piece of music this soulless and hollow.

Lisa's raps are by far the worst part of it, with FIRE BARS such as "you're the one been chosen, play the part like moses" and "mona lisa kinda lisa". Unfortunately, these raps take up a good portion of the song, and there's nothing going on in the instrumental to distract you from them, save for that little ice cream truck jingle. (or at least I think that's what the producer was going for)

Selena is a non-presence and essentially blends in with the girls, who WAIL that awful hook like their lives depend on it. Also, there's some really cheesy innuendos here that're sung with all the sex appeal of the actual ice cream truck driver from literally your neighborhood.

I loathe what this song represents - the only good thing about it is that the girls look stunning in the MV. And that's exactly the thing - this song represents the exact moment in time wherein Blackpink admitted to their audience that music is no longer their main focus. This is the peak of their influencer-ization, and only time will tell if they'll redeem themselves. (Spoiler: They sort of did, goddammit.)

#kpop #worst kpop #kpop review #review #yooa bon voyage #blackpink ice cream #mcnd spring #dumdi dumdi #baekhyun candy #victon mayday #secret number #taeyeon happy #weki meki

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thefallennightmare · 5 years

Text

Hesitate

Pairings: Joe Jonas x Reader

Warnings: major angst, fluff, some swears here and there.

Words: a lot. 8,252.

Summary: Being the Jonas Brothers photographer had many, many perks. But the lows? The lows were way worse; like watching the man you’re in love with being in love with someone else.

A/N: My love for the Jo Bros have resurfaced with such force after seeing them in Milwaukee that this idea for a Joe fic came to mind and I had to write it. Please let me know what you think. I’ve very torn on this fic.

The happy chatter and laughter bounced around the small space of the jet and I sulked farther into my seat, the volume of my laptop increasing. There were only ten people on the jet, me included, but it sounded and felt like there were at least fifty. My eyes landed on the team of people I worked for and had to tear my gaze away before he noticed. I forced myself to continue to edit the same picture I had up on my screen for the last hour. Rubbing my palms into my eyes, I let out a groan that was silent to me but was not to others

“Kevin, stop! That tickles!”

I slammed my laptop shut with a little too much force and stood with the hope that I could find a quiet, secluded part of the jet to continue my work. It was nearing two a.m and we had another long day tomorrow that consisted off photo shoots, interviews, and another sold out show. I also had to find time to sleep during all of that.

“Hey, everything alright?”

Turing to the soft voice, I felt my heart hammer in my chest while my stomach flipped three times over. The perfect smile that stood out from the rest caught my eyes immediately as I found myself staring a little too fondly at the man in front of me.

Joe Jonas.

“Y-yeah. I’m just really tired and I want to get the pictures from tonight posted before sunrise. I just started working with you guys, don’t need to give you a reason to fire me,” I cringed at the way I stumbled over my words.

Joe gave me a small wave, “We’ve seen your work, Y/N. When we decided to go back on tour and needed a photographer, we had to hire you.”

“Thank you,” I gave him a small smile.

“You should get some sleep,” he mentioned after taking a drink of his beer.

“I could say the same thing about you guys,” I nodded towards his brothers and the other members of the team.

“We can quiet down if the noise is too loud?” Joe suggested.

I gave him a stern shake of my head. “Do not stop having fun because of me. I can always find another way to the next city.”

It was Joe’s turn to shake his head. “Fuck that. You’re part of the team so you ride with us, like everyone else.”

My heart warmed at his comment of part of the team.

“Well even if I wanted to go to sleep, I couldn’t. Flying really freaks me out.” I admitted.

Joe set his empty beer bottle on the table to the right of him. He pushed a few loose strands of hair from his face and I had to force myself not to do it for him.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Honestly? I didn’t think we were at the part of this relationship to let each other know our deep, dark secrets,” I shrugged with a small laugh.

Joe’s lips twitched at the mention of relationship but couldn’t respond as a blonde came up from behind him, placing a soft kiss to his cheek. My heart fell into my stomach with the way Joe looked at her, wishing it was me.

“Babe, we’re all ready for another round of drinks,” She smiled at Joe before sending the smile my way. “Get any good shots, Y/N?”

“Yeah. You’re going to love the ones of Joe, Sophie.” I gave a forced smile in return to Joe’s fiance.

“Can’t wait. C’mon babe,” Sophie tugged on Joe’s hand, ending the first solid conversation we shared in the few weeks I had been on tour with them.

A soft tune left my lips as I wandered the back halls of the arena, eyes glued to my camera as I went through all of the pictures I got tonight and deleting the bad ones; however, when it came to the brothers, there weren’t any bad pictures.

We were in a new city, Boston, and we were nearing the end of the first month of tour. We thankfully had a small break after tonight for a week and I was so giddy to return home, to sleep in my own bed.

My feet came to a halt a few feet in front of the two figures, locked together in a kiss. Swallowing the jealousy, I wanted to turn my back on them but the longer I stared at the two in love, I realized that he would never be like that with me; he was married now.

Joe and Sophie had decided to get married after the show in Vegas a few days ago. Thankfully I hadn’t been there but found out about it from Instagram. I was completely wrecked. I knew that there wasn’t a chance in hell that Joe would want to be with me, he barely knew me. To him, I was just the photographer for the Jonas Brothers.

“Y/N, wait up!”

Biting my lip, I turned on my heels and gave a small smile to the newlyweds.

“What's up?”

“The jet is leaving in a few hours.” Joe informed.

“Uh, actually I’m taking a flight straight home,” I admitted.

Sophie’s eyebrows rose. “You’re not coming to our party?”

“I’ve got some family issues to take care of, I’m sorry,” I lied.

They were throwing a Just Married party at their home in Los Angeles and I tried to think of any excuse at all to not show up and I gave them the oldest one in the book.

“Everything okay?”

My lips curled into a smile at the concern in Joe’s voice.

“Yeah, just have to take care of some things. But I really should get going, I’ll see you guys next week.”

Giving them a small wave goodbye, I ignored the want of being in Sophie’s place and walked farther and farther away from the one who held my heart.

The wind blew softly through my curls as I walked the strip of the airport towards the giant jet waiting for me. A cold breeze brushed past my bare shoulders and I cursed when I realized I should have left my sweater unpacked.

The week off came and went in a blink of an eye. I sat on my couch in my oldest pair of sweats watching terrible romance movies, finding myself wishing I had that life. The night before, however, was the worst. I had seen so many pictures from Joe’s and Sophie’s party that my heart had shattered and the only way I found a way to pick them up and glue them back together was with a large bottle of vodka.

It was a great idea at the time but now? With the sun just beginning to rise, my head felt like it was two thousand pounds due to my hangover.

“Y/N’s here!”

“Oh god, Nick. Not so loud.” I groaned once I entered the jet.

Nick laughed. “Someone had a good night last night?”

“Soo great,” I joked after tossing my bag on the makeshift couch of the jet. “No wives?”

“Nope. Just you and brothers. No one else can make it out till tomorrow,” Nick shook his head.

“If I’d known that, I would have asked for another day off,” I muttered while rubbing my temples.

“Who’s the guy?”

I blinked towards Nick. “What?”

He shrugged. “I figured you had a good night last night.”

“Yeah, it was so great. My ass on my couch watching terrible rom-coms.” I admitted.

“You could have came to Joe’s party,” Nick suggested.

“No thanks,” I groaned.

If Nick had picked up on any hint of jealousy, he didn’t say anything because a round of laughter erupted from the back of the jet. My tired eyes landed on Kevin and Joe, my heart leaping into my throat.

“Damn, Y/N. You look like hell,” Kevin joked as he took a seat on the other end of the jet.

“Fuck off, Kevin,” I smirked.

“Give her a break,” Nick placed an arm around my shoulder, “She had a hot date last night.”

“You did?”

Joe’s voice startled me at how deep it was and that was the first time I saw the lines in his forehead deepen in what I’ve only known as one thing; jealousy.

“Yeah, with my couch,” I joked to lighten the sudden tension.

Joe continued to stare at me, his eyes burning into the side of my head and I shifted in my seat, my body feeling like it was just ignited in fire. Clearing my throat, I motioned towards the back of the plane.

“I’m going to go try laying down for a bit.”

Joe remained in his spot; in the middle of the doorway to the room. I avoided my gaze from his as I squeezed past him, our bodies softly brushing against one another. I could ignore his stare as long as I wanted. I couldn’t, however, ignore the way my body felt against his.

Smiling at the other behind the scene members of the band, I made my way towards the stage with my camera hanging low on my neck, the brothers were set to go on in just a few minutes.

After the questionable tension between Joe and I on the jet, I had decided to take my own flight to the last couple of cities, to avoid any other tension. Kevin and Nick questioned my actions, all three of us growing close in the last month, so I gave them the best lie I could think of; “I’ve got so much work to do that I need some time alone.”

They never caught on, thankfully.

Now, here I was almost a week later since I had seen any of the brothers, besides during concerts, I found myself missing them. I wouldn’t call us best friends but we were close.

“I don’t know what else to do. You complain when I’m home too much so I try and go out but then you complain that I’m never home. No matter what I do, it doesn’t seem to make you happy.”

My feet came to a sudden stop when I heard hushed voices coming from behind a closed door.

“I’m sorry that I’m not a perfect wife for you!” an accented voice shrill.

Sophie.

“That’s not what I’m saying. Fuck, do you ever listen to me?!”

Joe.

I knew I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping on their private conversations but curiosity got the best of me as I leaned forward towards the door.

“I’m trying not to let her get under my skin, I really am Joe but it’s so fucking hard being compared to her.”

“No one is comparing you two, Sophie.”

The softness in Joe’s voice made my heart yearn for him. He sounded so broken.

“You are! I saw you the other day looking at her pictures! She goes or I do.”

“Sophie, I can't-.”

Suddenly the door was thrown against the wall, a heated blonde emerging. We locked eyes for a split second and Sophie scoffed before stomping down the hall.

My mouth fell open as I watched her disappear around a corner then finally my eyes landed on the broken figure in the doorway. His eyes were red and bloodshot, his once styled hair now a mess due to most likely running his hands through it.

He still looked like a fucking dream.

“How long have you been standing there?” Joe’s bottom lip trembled as he let out a large breath.

“The whole time.”

I didn’t bother to lie to him.

He nodded before stuffing his hands in his pockets. “It’s just a little fight.”

“It didn’t sound little.” I observed. “Want to talk about it?”

Joe’s sweet lips opened to protest but he pulled them in a tight line.

“Sophie’s been under a lot of stress lately. We’ve been trying to plan an actual wedding in Paris but she thinks I’ve been to busy.” Joe defended.

“You’re going to get married again?” My heart sunk to the bowels of my stomach.

“Vegas really wasn’t our dream wedding. We just did it for laughs,” he shrugged.

“Who’s the girl?” I questioned.

Joe blinked, a bit taken aback. “What?”

“The girl Sophie is making you choose between.” Curiosity got the best of me, I couldn’t help the words as they were leaving my mouth.

Joe pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, boring his eyes into mine. “You.”

“Wh-what?” I stuttered.

Never in a million years would I have thought that they would be fighting about me. I had no clue they knew about my feelings for Joe. I hadn’t told anyone.

“I was on your Instagram a few days ago saving some of your pictures for your birthday present. Sophie found the pictures on my phone and took it the wrong way.” Joe spilled.

“My birthday? It’s not for another couple of months.” I reminded him.

He nodded. “I know but the guys and I were working on putting a portfolio together for you. You’re amazing at what you do, Y/N. You need something to do after the tour ends.”

If I didn’t hate crying in front of people, I would have broken down in happy tears at the sweet gesture the team was doing for me.

“Did you tell Sophie that?”

“Yeah,” Joe ran a hand over his face, “But it didn’t help that when she asked if I thought you were attractive, I didn’t lie.”

“What did you tell her?” I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat.

“Of course you’re attractive. But I’m in love with Sophie.” Joe admitted.

“Right.”

The venom that slipped through my voice surprised the both of us. But I couldn’t believe how naive I was thinking that Joe would leave Sophie for me only because he thought I was attractive.

They had a life together now, I wasn’t the one that Joe wanted. The mere thought of them having an actual wedding in Paris was the weight that the scale in my heart needed to tip towards ‘he will never love you.’

For the last three months I had been torturing myself by watching Joe and Sophie together, wanting to be in her place. I knew it would never happen but I continued to allow myself to fall for him.

The way that he put EVERYONE before him, no matter what it cost. The way he could make anyone laugh, me included, on their worst days. And the way he radiates light on that stage, giving everything to the thousands of fans that came out to see him, love him, and follow him through his own ups and downs.

Blowing out a large breath, I let the heartbreak finally knock me down. On shaky legs, I motioned behind me.

“I just remembered, I wanted to get some shots of the stage before the show.”

“Y/N, I didn’t-.”

“Don’t, Joe. Please don’t make me feel even more pathetic than I do now,” I held up a hand, ignoring his pleas while walking away from him.

“Chris, stop,” I giggled while trying to push away the fingers that reached for my camera.

“C’mon, I want to see the pictures from last night.”

I smiled while shaking my head. “I don’t show anyone my pictures until they’re edited. That’s the most fun.”

“We’ve been dating for a month and I still haven’t seen any of your pictures.” Chris pouted.

“I wouldn’t call casually hooking up ‘dating.’” I admitted.

Chris held a hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“So that’s all I’m good for is sex?”

“Pretty much,” I lightly tapped his cheek with a loud laugh escaping my lips.

Chris was one of the light techs for The Jonas Brothers and we had only started talking over a month ago when I started taking my own flights to the next cities.

After the conversation between Joe and I, we had decided to keep our relationship strictly professional. I would arrive right before the boys would get on and stay back after they left, which is how I met Chris.

It wasn’t anything serious; us just using each other for sex. I was still head over heels in love with Joe but needed a distraction from the unwanted feelings.

“So did you want to meet at my room after the show?” Christ questioned, his fingers running up and down my bare arm.

“Are you going to make it worth it?” I flirted while running my hand through his hair.

“Don’t I always?” Chris’ breath brushed against my ears, sending shivers all over my body.

Licking my lips, I pressed my palms into his chest, trying to give us some space. “You know I hate PDA.”

“No one is watching,” Chris breathed into my neck.

Feeling someone’s gaze burn all over my body, I peeked over Chris’ shoulder and my eyes immediately connecting with a pair of brown ones.

Joe watched with a clenched jaw as Chris’ hands moved lower, ghosting over my ass. His lips continued to brush the sensitive part of my neck but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Joe.

“Chris, stop. I’m serious,” I tried to push him off again but failed when he hit my sweet spot with his teeth.

Joe’s eyes fell as he continued to watch Chris leave his mark on me. I felt regret fill my veins when he looked down at the ground trying to avoid my gaze.

Nick, who was standing next to Joe, must have caught onto his brother’s feelings so he called over to me.

“Y/N! The show's about to start. You should head to the stage.”

Chris pulled away with an annoyed groan, reluctantly allowing me to remove myself from his grasp.

“I’ll see you after the show.”

Giving him a small kiss on the cheek, I walked over towards Nick and Joe, ignoring the later hard gaze.

“How long has that been going on?” Nick nodded towards Chris.

“Not long. We’re just hanging out; it’s not serious.” I informed.

“Looked pretty serious to me,” Joe spat.

I sliced my eyes over to him. “So what if it is? It’s none of your business.”

“Guys, let’s not do this now. Save it for later,” Nick suggested.

“Gladly,” I pushed passed the brothers, purposely slamming my shoulder into Joe’s.

“Y/N, do you need anything?”

Looking away from the screen of my laptop, I shook my head at Kevin. “No, I’m fine. Thanks for letting me catch a ride with you guys tonight. I can’t believe I forgot to buy a plane ticket.”

He shrugged before sitting on the other seat of the jet. “You’re always welcomed.”

“Can you believe the tour is more than half over?,” I breathed, “It’s flying by.”

“I know. I love being on stage every night with my brothers but damn, I can’t wait to be home again,” Kevin laughed.

“I bet your girls miss you.” I smiled.

The grin that came to Kevin’s lips warmed my heart. “I miss them more. I’m thankful that they’ve had the chance to see me on stage, with my brothers, doing what we love.”

“I’m thankful you guys gave me the opportunity to do what I love,” I beamed.

“Hey, thank Joe. He’s the one that found you on Instagram,” Kevin stated.

At the mention of Joe, my heart nearly busted through my chest. We all were coming back from another week long break and there had been rumors that Joe and Sophie had been fighting constantly. The paps snapped pictures of her leaving their Australia home while Joe was photographed at their LA home during the same time. My fingers itched wanting to text him to see if he was alright but I knew it wasn’t any of my business what was going on between them.

“It’s ridiculous. I can’t even bring her up in a conversation without Sophie freaking out.”

Joe and Nick walked onto the plane, their private conversation came to a halt when their eyes landed on me.

“What are you doing here?” Nick questioned with a small smile playing at his lips.

“Kevin said I could catch a ride with you guys. I’m an idiot that forgot to buy a plane ticket.”

“How’d you forget to buy a ticket?” Nick laughed, sitting down on the couch.

Joe silently sat down on the opposite end of the couch I had been lounging on. I pulled my knees to my chest, allowing him more room to sit comfortably.

“It’s been a rough week,” I defended with a laugh.

“How are things with Chris?” Kevin asked.

Joe’s body went stiff and I tried my best to ignore his gaze.

“That’s over as fast as it started,” I admitted.

“What happened?”

Looking at Nick, I shrugged. “We both wanted a relationship, just not with each other.”

“I’m sorry,” Kevin sympathized.

“Don’t be. It made me realize that there is someone out there that wants to be with me, I shouldn’t have to settle for what I think I need or want.” I smiled.

Joe cleared his throat while shifting in his spot. “Can you guys give us a minute?”

Confused, I watched as Nick and Kevin retreated to the back of the jet, leaving Joe and I alone.

I could hear my heart in my ears as I waited for Joe to speak; to say something, anything.The silence was deafening and I opened my mouth to say the first word but Joe interrupted me.

“I’m sorry for distancing myself from you.”

“I’m just as guilty as you,” I admitted.

“I thought that if I spent time away from you, it would fix things between Sophie and I but it only made me realize something I never wanted to admit outloud.”

Licking my lips, I swallowed. “What’s that?”

“I missed you.”

Joe looked into my eyes for the first time and the sparkle behind them brought goosebumps to my skin. He moved closer to me, fingers brushing against my leg, and I fought the urge to leap over to him and attach my lips to his.

“I love Sophie,” Joe continued, “But when I saw you with Chris, there was this burning rage that I’d never experienced with anyone. Not even Sophie; my wife.”

“That’s called jealousy.” I tried to joke but bit my lip when I noticed the serious look on Joe’s face.

“I’ve been torn on what to do that it’s put a stress on my marriage. I haven’t seen Sophie in almost two weeks.” Joe played with the ring on his left hand.

“You’re married, Joe. You shouldn’t let me get in between you and Sophie. I can forget how I feel about you if it means you’re happy with your wife,” I choked out, holding back the tears.

“Can you?” Joe questioned.

The air around us suddenly thickened, the desire burning bright in Joe’s eyes as he stared directly into my own before they fell to the top of my chest, which was peaking out of my tank top. Adjusting my position on the couch, I cleared my throat hoping that would break him from his intense gaze.

“Y-yeah,” I nodded.

Joe raised his eyebrows, slowly inching closer to me. “Are you sure?”

My mouth ran dry when I felt his fingers trace small circles on my bare thigh, Joe wearing a smug smile as he closed the small space between us; inch by inch. My fingers itched, wanting to run them through his hair, but reality struck when I felt his breath fanning over my lips. I had realized how close Joe was and how bad it would look if Kevin or Nick walked in.

“Joe,” I breathed while placing my hands on his chest, “We can-.”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” Joe mused.

Silence.

That’s what came out of my mouth.

I couldn’t tell Joe I didn’t want his lips on mine because that’s all I wanted. All day, every single day. I knew, however, that it would be completely wrong on both of us if that happened.

A small whimper slipped passed my lips when I felt Joe’s fingers under my chin, forcing me to look in his eyes. He sucked in a large breath when I wrapped my arms around his neck, wanting to feel his body against mine.

“Y/N,” Joe’s breath was warm against my neck.

“Please, Joe. I can’t wait any longer.” I dug my finger into his lower back.

“SURPRISE!”

Pushing away from one another, we both looked to the entrance of the plane as Sophie walked into view. By the smile on her face, we knew that she hadn’t caught us. My heart rate had tripled and was slowly getting back to normal as Joe stood, walking over to his wife.

“What are you doing here?”

There was an unreadable tone in his voice.

“I thought I would surprise you. I got the next few days off so I thought we could spend time together while you were on the road!”

It was how happy she was I realized that she hadn’t seen me yet, Joe’s body blocking me from her line of sight. Biting my lip, I tried to avoid my gaze moving any lower than his back.

“Yeah, of course. Uh, why don’t you set your bags in the back room. Nick and Kev may be back there,” Joe nodded behind Sophie.

“Perfect! I’ll go say hello,” Sophie smiled.

She peered over his shoulder, her eyes finally landing on me. I had brought my legs closer to my chest, trying to hold my emotions in. She had nearly caught Joe and I, and now she was going to be on the road with us for the next few days.

“Y/N! How are you? It’s been awhile!”

I could tell in the way that she smiled that she was not happy I was here.

“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, I’m only riding with them tonight. I just needed a way to the next city,” I nodded, trying to reassure her.

“Oh, that’s too bad. Well, we should get some rest, love. You’re looking exhausted.” Sophie ran her fingers through his hair.

“Can you give me a minute? Y/N just needs me to look over some pictures before she posts them.”

I marveled at how easy Joe had just lied to his wife.

Sophie opened her mouth to protest, so I cleared my throat. “It’s fine. You guys should spend time together.”

My lip quivered as I let out a shaky breath, one that didn’t go unnoticed by Joe.

“No it’s fine. I’ll be waiting, love,” Sophie smiled.

My heart shattered as I watched her pull Joe into a very heated kiss. Her hands pulled at the ends of his hair, deepening it. Joe’s hands wrapped around her lower back to pull her body more close to his, obviously needing to feel any type of friction.

Their kiss went on for a few more moments before Joe pulled away, his eyes watching her closely as she disappeared towards the back of the jet.

“Y/N, I had no clue she was going to show up,” he defended.

Shaking my head, I kept my gaze trained to the ground.

“She’s your wife. You need to be with her; not me.” I muttered, mostly to myself.

“I know I should but I can’t help it that I want to be with you too.”

Finally allowing myself to look into his eyes, they looked broken just like my own, I gave him a small shrug.

“It’s not going to work between us, Joe. You’re married! I won’t allow myself to get in between you two again. As long as you’re with her, there will never be an us. If it’s harsh, I’m sorry but I won’t let myself get my hopes up for us when clearly it will always be Sophie,” I insisted.

“So I’m just supposed to pretend that never happened?!” Joe pointed to where I was sitting.

“You know for a fucking fact that wasn’t supposed to happen!,” I snapped, “I let myself get lost in lust. It won’t happen again.”

Joe’s eyes sliced into mine, a scoff leaving his lips. “Fine, if that’s what you want.”

“It’s not what I want!” I yelled standing to my feet. “I don’t want to be this pathetic little girl that sits around and waits for a man but I’d be lying if I said I won’t wait for you; you’re perfect Joe. I can’t help but fall more and more in love with you every night I watch you on stage, performing your heart out. The heart I wish had my own!”

Rage boiled in my blood as I continued to stand there, staring at Joe. He knew how I felt about him, hell everyone knew at this point. I only thought that if I kept it bottled in that the feelings would slowly dissipate by seeing how happy he was with Sophie. But what I didn't expect was Joe feeling the same. Yes, he hadn't came out and said the exact words I love you, Y/N but his actions proved otherwise.

Or maybe he was horny.

Shaking the thought from my head, I continued to stand my ground against Joe.

“As long as you're with Sophie, there will never be an us,” I repeated.

Joe, who clearly looked like he had given up, nodded before giving me a broken smile, walking in the back of the jet.

My body shook with sobs as I collapsed on the couch, the reality of what I had said finally setting in. I told Joe we were done and meant every word so why was I wanting to chase after him and say I was lying; that I would be fine waiting for him.

How had I become so low of a person? Getting in the way of a marriage? Allowing myself to fall in love with someone who never was available to begin with?

“Everything alright?” Nick asked as him and Kevin appeared, almost out of nowhere.

Hasty wiping away my tears, I nodded while avoiding their gaze.

“Yeah,” I choked out.

We all sat in silence, Kevin and Nick clearly understanding everything was not alright but deciding not to press. They played quiet chords on their guitars while I clicked over and over on my computer as I edited pictures I had taken during my break. But no matter how much noise we had made, it did nothing to drown out the moans coming from the room in the back.

Three.

There were only three more shows left on tour.

Everyone was relishing in the bittersweet memories. We all were happy to go back home to our regular day to day lives but we all were going to miss everything about this tour.

After the show last night, I was more than ready to get away from Joe. We still hadn’t said a word about what happened on the jet and the sexual tension was thick. During last night's show, they played Trust and I couldn’t stop the burning gaze coming from Joe no matter how hard I ignored it.

My heels clicked along the long abandoned hallway of the arena as I looked around for the brothers. I wanted to get some solo shots of them on the final days of the tour. A smile played at my lips as I found them leaning against a wall, deep in their own personal conversation. They hadn’t seen me yet so I snapped a few pictures of them. I was about to leave them but Kevin’s question stopped me in my tracks.

“When are you going to tell her?”

I leaned closer against the wall and strained my ears to hear better.

“I think I should do it before the tour ends,” Joe shrugged.

“Are you sure that this is what you want? Nick questioned.

Joe nodded without an ounce of hesitation. “She’s the one I’ve always wanted. I hate that it took a broken relationship to realize that but in the end I have to stop thinking about how others will feel; I need to put my feelings first.”

Kevin wrapped his hand around Joe’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Just know that we support your decision. Your heart will hurt for losing someone you’ve cared about for awhile now but she’s going to help you heal.”

“I’ve always loved her. It’s always going to be her.”

“How do you think Sophie will take it?”

Joe looked at Nick. “She’ll be thankful. Eventually we’ll be able to move past everything and be happy.”

White clouded my vision, body going limp against the wall, as I replayed the entire conversation in my head again.

He chose Sophie. He was always going to choose her. I was a fucking idiot to think that it would ever be me. It was pathetic, really. To think that we could ever have a perfect, suburban life together with three kids, a dog or two, and a damn white picket fence.

My bottom lip trembled as I sucked it between my teeth, a broken sob escaping; a little too loudly.

“Y/N?”

Teary eyes locked with Joe’s, who was just as surprised as his brothers were that I had been standing there. The look Joe was giving me was the type of look that made you want to break down and cry. Not a normal cry; no, it was those types of cries that made you want to fall to your knees in pain, tears falling fast from your eyes.

“How-how long have you been standing there?” Joe stuttered.

“I’ve got to go,” I drank in the saltiness of my tears, slowly backing away.

“Wait, Y/N. Please.” Joe begged, reaching for my hand.

Snatching away from his fingers, I shook my head. “I didn’t hear anything. I was never here.”

His pleas fell on deaf ears as I stumbled over my feet to get away from them. The pain was unbearable, shaking me to the bones, and I would have given anything in my life to never see Joe Jonas ever again.

“Man, I can’t believe that this is our LAST show tonight. We cannot thank each and every one of you guys enough. You have been with us from the start, through our ups and downs, and we can never repay you for the love and support you have given us.”

My eyes watched with a smile as Kevin talked to the crowd, quietly tuning his guitar. It was the very last show of the tour tonight and the brothers had given it their absolute all. They had only a few songs left, Burning Up and Sucker, but there were rumors that Joe has something else planned.

Oh, Joe.

I hadn’t seen any of the brothers the last couple of days, opting to stay farther back when taking pictures. I was too embarrassed to face them and see them after they caught me listening to their conversation. I traveled alone, driving from city to city, so I was beyond exhausted. With the last show, however, I didn’t want to miss a thing. So here I was, standing at the bottom of the stage, the brothers a few feet in front of me, snapping away with my camera. All feelings aside, I was determined to get the best pictures tonight.

“You know,” Joe spoke up next, his voice causing my body to tingle all over, “One of our team members also has a birthday tonight.”

My palms began to sweat, knowing what Joe was about to say next.

“Have you guys seen our pictures from every show on our Instagram?” Nick yelled into the microphone.

The crowd screamed and cheered, the profoundness beaming through my smile.

“All of those pictures were taken by our very good friend, Y/N L/N,” Kevin pointed down towards me. “C’mon Y/N, give a small wave!”

“I hate you!” I screamed, smile clear on my face.

“It’s her birthday tonight and she has spent every single night watching us perform and capturing those moments that we all cherish the rest of our lives. So, please join us in signing a very happy birthday!” Nick boomed!

Red flushed my cheeks as the boys and the crowd all sang happy birthday and I tried to shrink in size. I absolutely hated being in the spotlight but the rather large gesture from my best friends brought a warm smile to my face.

As the song faded out, the brothers lead right into their last two songs. I snapped away with my camera, getting lost in the moment that I hadn’t realized that Joe was kneeling at the edge of the stage just a few inches in front of me.

“I’m a sucker for you,” Joe’s voice sang through the arena.

Our eyes locked and he placed his hand in front of me, palm facing the ceiling. Confusion filled my eyes as I looked from his hand to his face.

“Your camera,” he mouthed.

Licking my lips, I hesitated for a split second before I placed my camera in his hands.

Setting his microphone to the side, the camera lens now faced me and I could see Joe’s small smile on the other end of it.

“Smile,” he cheered.

“What are you doing?”

No matter how upset or sad I was about the situation between us, I still found myself smiling at the way his eyes danced under the stage lights as they raked over my face, taking in my appearance.

I was mesmerized by the way Joe was drinking me in that I hadn’t realized he already snapped a few pictures of me and was handing my camera back, completely unaware he had slipped the small memory card into his pocket.

“Y/N, we need you for this picture!”

Zipping up my camera bag, I looked to my left smiling at Kevin.

“Let me just get my camera!” I called back.

“No, we need you in the picture!” Nick chimed in.

I looked at the whole family of the Jonas’ feeling out of place. It was just a mere few minutes after the show had ended, all of us on a high and we were dragging our feet because we didn’t want the night to end.

I hesitated only because I was afraid of being too close to Joe.

“I don’t want to impose,” I spoke.

“Get your ass over here,” Kevin demanded while grabbing my hand, pulling me towards the group.

While the family finished their pictures, Nick waved me over as I stood next to him while everyone in the band/crew piled in for a group pictures.

“How about one of us three and Y/?” Kevin suggested.

Him and nick stood next to each other while Joe looked into my eyes, nodding to the space next to him.

Gnawing on my lip, I slid next to him and gently laid my hand on his back. As we waited for the boys mom to fix her camera, Joe’s fingers wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer into him.

Tingles spread through my body when I felt the heat radiate off his body onto mine. I couldn’t ignore how good it felt being wrapped into his arms, a sense of safety engulfing me.

“Say cheese!” Momma Jonas smiled while taking a few pictures of us four.

After suggesting that I get a picture with each of the boys, I smiled brightly during my pictures when Kevin and Nick.

“My turn,” Joe mused.

With my bottom lip in between my teeth, I walked back into Joe’s arm, his left slinking around my waist once more. His fingers had slipped underneath my shirt and even that slight touch of skin on skin was enough to have visions of us in bed together playing in my mind.

“Oh shoot, my phone died.”

Joe fished his phone out of his pocket, handing it to his mom.

“Use mine.”

As we waited for his mom to take the picture, Joe looked down at me and I was sure that my heart soared into my throat at the look he was giving me. Leaning closer to my ear, I felt his breath against against my neck.

“Come by my room tonight?”

“Are you sure?” I stammered.

He nodded, moving a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yeah. I have to give you your birthday present.”

Joe’s voice was hoarse with lust and the pressure I felt from down below was enough to make a small moan leave my lips.

My knuckles tapped against the wooden door in front of me and I waited in the silent hallway for the door to open.

I had arrived to Joe’s hotel room way later than I had originally told him so I was afraid that he had fallen asleep.

The door is unlocked.

After reading the new text message from Joe, I quietly entered his room, my voice coming out hushed.

“Joe?”

A small gasp erupted from my throat when I took in the scene in front of me; lit candles were littered around the room, a bottle of wine in a bucket of ice with a small chocolate cake on the counter in the makeshift kitchen, and a black box with a large white bow sat safely on the bed. There was a soft tune playing in throughout the room that I smiled fondly at.

Love Her by The Jonas Brothers

My name was scribbled on a small envelope that I immediately recognized as Joe’s handwriting.

Y/N

I know I’ve been a real shitty friend to you these past few months but I had been dealing with a lot of personal things in my life that made me push you away. You didn’t deserve that and I’m so sorry.

But that rough path I had been on led me to you. I will never forgive myself for breaking your heart but if you trust me, I will never break it again.

You saved me, Y/N. Now it’s my turn to save you.

Happy Birthday.

Joe

Wiping away the tears, I paced the card on the bed and gently began pulling away the bow on the box.

Inside was a thick, black book and a large yellow envelope that read ‘read last.’

I set the envelope next to the card and started flipping through the book, choking out a small laugh.

Inside the folder were pages upon pages of all of my favorite pictures I had taken; before the Jonas Brothers and during. I laughed at all of the goofy memories I captured of the brothers but when I reached the last couple pages to the book, my heart doubled in size. They were pictures of me, ones that I had never seen.

Joe trying to teach me to play the guitar, which failed miserably, but we both had the time of our lives.

My head against Joe’s shoulder, fast asleep, while we were traveling to the next city on the jet. His eyes were glued to his phone but the look on his face, the way his lips pulled up into a smile said everything words couldn’t.

Me setting up my camera equipment before one of the shows, the light emanating from the stage casting an aura of light around me, almost as if I was an angel sent from above.

And the last couple pages were pictures from tonight; Joe stealing my camera, all of the group ones after the show, and the last picture is what broke down the last hesitant wall I had up. It was of Joe and I, his mouth brushing against my forehead while his hand was wrapped protectively around me. If the picture could talk it would say that it almost looked as if Joe was afraid that I would disappear in front of him.

A door clicked behind me and through teary eyes, I watched as Joe emerged from the bathroom, wearing nothing but black sweat pants that hung dangerously low on his hips. Suddenly, the tears had vanished and I groaned to myself as I took in each and every line of his abs.

“Happy Birthday.”

Snapping out of my naughty thoughts, I grinned over to Joe. “Thank you. I don’t deserve any of this.”

He shook his head while sitting on the other edge of the bed, giving us a reasonable amount of space.

“You deserve all of this and more,” Joe admitted.

Nodding, I placed the folder against my chest, holding it close. “I will cherish this for the rest of my life. Joe, I cannot thank you enough for this.”

“I told you; anything for you.” Joe’s hand rested on my thigh, giving it a slight squeeze.

Smiling at the feeling, it was then that I noticed the faint tan line on his finger.

“Your ring?,” I gawked at him.

I was lost in the romantic gesture of all of this that I had forgotten the most important part of all of this; Sophie.

A tiny smile pulled at Joe’s lips and he simply nodded to the yellow envelope.

Following his silent request, my shaky fingers pulled out a stack of papers. Dread filled me, the last thing I wanted was to read a giant packet of whatever this was, but it was the two bold words at the top that caught my attention.

“Divorce papers?” I muttered. “Who’s getting a divorce?”

Joe laughed and told me to go to the last page.

My eyes scanned the two signatures over and over again, burning it into the back of my brain.

“You and Sophie?” I asked.

“It’s been finalized for a few weeks now. We’ve been separated for months before this,” Joe admitted.

“Wait, so what happened between us on the jet?” I pondered, mostly to myself.

Joe answered my question with a simple nod.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I think at the time, I still wanted to make it work between us but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You were always on my mind, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. It wasn’t fair to Sophie, or you, that my heart wasn’t completely with either of you,” Joe has scooted closer to me, our knees brushing against each other.

“I wish my feelings were more clear in the beginning; before I got married. You’ve always been the one I wanted, I knew that, I was just afraid to let Sophie go. I was afraid of what people would think. What they would call me, or you,” Joe continued.

“But when I saw you with Chris, I wanted to be in his place. I wanted to be the one by your side. I wanted to be the one you called when you had a bad day. I wanted to be the one you shared your bed with.”

“Joe,” I breathed, “I’m sorry. I thought that’s what I needed at the time to get over my feelings for you. But it only made me realize that no matter who I date, they would never compare to you.”

Joe raised his hand hesitantly before he cupped my cheek and I whimpered at the warmth. His thumb brushed my cheek and my hands gripped his arm, afraid to let go. Our eyes locked and Joe’s tongue brushed over his lower lip causing me to nearly jump into his lap.

“I want this if you do,” he breathed against my lips.

“More than anything,” I begged.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize it but I promise I will live the rest of my days showing you how much I love you,” Joe proclaimed.

Not wanting to wait any longer, I finally closed the distance between us by softly pressing my lips against his. They felt full and plump against my own as I wrapped my arms around his neck, him pulling me with ease into his lap.

I never wanted to believe those stories I read as a little girl about kissing someone you love for the first time. I always thought the fireworks and the heat were all lies but now, feeling Joe’s lips move in sync with mine, I felt every last firework deep in my bones and in between my legs. My vision went white when I felt him slip his tongue past my lips, gliding against my own.

“I love you too, Joe.” I mumbled into his lips.

“Did you want some cake or wine?” Joe questioned in between kisses.

“Later,” I groaned, pressing my hips into his.

The cake and wine were the last thing on our minds as Joe’s fingers snaked up my back, gliding my shirt off with ease and tossing it on the other end of his hotel room.

#Joe Jonas #Joe Jonas fanfiction #Joe Jonas x reader #jonas brothers #kevin jonas #nick jonas

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missroserose · 5 years

Text

Sunflower

Happy @harringroveweekoflove! This bit of smutty fluff was inspired by @eternalgoldfish‘s untitled roommate AU. Hope you don’t mind, love, I couldn’t leave it there...

{cw: adult content, dirty talk, mild kink, Billy Hargrove’s fingers}

The first time, it’s not his fault. Their clothes are constantly getting mixed up on the floor. He hadn’t realized they were Billy’s sweats. Hell—he suppresses a strangely hysterical giggle—he doesn’t even have to worry about washing off the come stains.

He does have to worry about Billy. Standing behind him, hand wrapped around Steve’s still-hard cock. Holding Steve up as he pants, regains his breath. Feels the flush that’s crept up his chest, his neck, heated his skin.

Steve didn’t know he swung this way. Didn’t realize either of them did.

But whatever. It’s just a hand.

A hand, and a voice. A drunk voice. Murmuring filthy promises in his ear in a tone that would make Satan himself part his lips.

Steve’s head is lolling back on Billy’s shoulder, like a sunflower too heavy for its stalk. In a way he’s abruptly aware is baring his throat. And Billy’s behind him, so it’s not quite submission, but it’s close.

“Pretty boy,” that voice says in his ear, soothing, enticing. “Always knew you’d be so pretty. Coming apart in my arms like that.” It’s almost a croon, sinful, delicious. “Wearing my clothes. How fucking gorgeous are you going to look wearing my spunk? Pretty pearl necklace for a pretty pretty boy…”

Steve shivers. No. This has to stop now. He pulls away with an effort, turns. “Billy, look. I’m sorry. I won’t wear your clothes again.”

Billy’s grin is drunk, lazy, but not sloppy. “You sure ‘bout that? ‘Cause you look great.” He takes a surprisingly steady step forward, hooks his fingers into the waistband of the sweats. Pulls Steve closer. “Make me want to do all kinds of things to you—”

Steve lays a hand on Billy’s chest. “It’s not like that, okay? I just…this was a one-time thing.”

A pause, as this sinks in to Billy’s thick skull. Steve watches his expression change. “Oh. I get it. No homo, right? Like, you’ll come all over my hand, but you’re not queer?” Billy makes a disgusted noise in his throat, pushes Steve away. “Whatever, asshole.”

“No, it’s not like—” Steve trails off as Billy leaves, slams the door. “Fuck.”

Three days of Billy being gone. Billy’s Instagram feed is full of pictures of parties. Beer pong, glow paint, girls. Girls with glowing neon necklaces and stripes of UV reactive paint across their cleavage. Girls with tequila running down their bellies. Girls in wet t-shirts, draped over Billy’s beer-drenched shoulders.

Steve considers reporting a TOS violation, but closes the app instead, determined to study. Falls asleep at his laptop. Wakes when a balled-up t-shirt hits him in the back of the head.

“Hey roomie, it’s time to work out.”

Steve silently curses his past self who thought it was a good idea to be workout buddies with his roommate. His ridiculously ripped, ridiculously hot, ridiculously ridiculous roommate. But he grunts and gets up, grateful, at least, that it was a clean t-shirt.

He should know. He did all of Billy’s laundry for him.

The second time, it’s maybe his fault. It’s hard to wrap your lips around a guy’s cock without having some say in the matter.

Then again, he’s really only returning the favor. So it’s kind of Billy’s fault still.

Billy’s thick. Girthy. But Steve’s never been one to back down from a challenge, and he sucks Billy down like he’s apologizing, like he’s promising never again, baby, I’ll never hurt you like that ever.

Billy’s fucking into it. Any lingering doubts Steve had about his roommate’s sexuality are shoved aside—Billy’s fingers are in his hair, tight, curses and praise spilling from his lips as he leans back against his desk. “Shit, babe, you feel so fucking good,” he’s muttering, and if he didn’t have Billy’s cock in his mouth Steve would grit his teeth, wondering how many people he’s said exactly that to in the past. How many stock phrases of encouragement he keeps in his toolbox, keyed to this sensation or that movement. But it’s whatever. Whatever it takes to get him off. To give him the best head of his life.

Steve kind of hates that he’s so determined to feed his roommate’s ego, but there it is.

He’s always been a bit competitive.

So he slides his tongue along the shaft, lets his lips stretch, makes little slurping sounds, getting really enthusiastic—and Billy’s getting louder, more insistent, and Steve’s swirling his tongue underneath the head now, pumping Billy with one hand, spit-slick and obscene, feels Billy’s cock pulse as fingers tighten in his hair, and hot jizz is flooding his throat and he’s swallowing him down without complaint.

Billy’s still gasping when Steve pulls back, hollowing his cheeks until he comes off with a satisfied pop.

“God, I love your mouth,” Billy says, eyes heavy-lidded as they take in Steve. And because he apparently doesn’t know when to quit, he tugs Steve up by the hair, lets go, only to use his thumb to wipe away an errant drop of something unmentionable from the corner of Steve’s mouth. “How did I not know you could do that?”

Steve grins, wide. “Guess I’m just full of surprises.”

“Fuck. I feel like I could bench press 400 pounds. Or run a mile. Or get shitfaced and dance all night.” Steve feels warm at the praise, but then Billy’s holding his phone up, selfie-camera showing their faces in the desklamp byglow. “C’mon. Start-of-the-evening photo. Then we go out and get shitfaced. Go dancing.”

“Dude, your dick is still out.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s a face picture, nobody will know.” Billy waggles his eyebrows. “Though maybe they’ll guess…”

And Steve suddenly goes cold. Pushes the camera away. “No, dude. I don’t want to be on your trophy wall. And I don’t want to go out and get drunk either. I’ve got class tomorrow.”

“So what?” Billy sets the phone down, tucks himself away, picks a shirt up off the (once again covered) floor. “We get drunk, we study. We’ve done it before.” Steve just looks at him; he raises his eyebrows, opens his hands. “What, do you want me to ask you out? Like we’re in middle school?”

Steve just sighs and turns away, ignores the painful wobbling in his chest. “Life isn’t an endless party, Hargrove. Some of us have more important shit to do than work out and drink.” And if he stays, Billy’s going to leave, so Steve pulls on his shoes, a sweater, picks up his backpack and keys. “I’m going to the library. I’ll see you later.”

Out of the corner of his eye, before the door closes behind him, he sees Billy’s face, and he feels a wash of regret in his belly—he’d swear to god his asshole roommate looks hurt. But then the door closes, and Steve shakes his head, certain he’s imagining things.

The third time definitely isn’t his fault.

Steve can’t control the fact that he occasionally has nightmares, even years after anything creepy has happened to him. Even after the dream has faded, the images still haunt him—his hometown overgrown by vines and leaves, air thick with spores, friends speared by branches or torn apart by monsters. He lies on his bed in the dark, body curled in on itself toward the wall, listening to Billy’s snores. Sobs uncontrollably, does his best to swallow the sounds, feels grateful that he’s never been the type for dramatic screams in the middle of the night.

As the worst of the storm passes, he realizes that he hasn’t heard Billy snore in a while. Debates calling out his roommate’s name, but doesn’t trust his voice to stay steady. Then he’s startled by the sensation of his mattress shifting, dipping under the weight of Billy’s not-inconsiderable frame.

“Hey, man. It’s okay.” Billy’s voice, quiet in his ear; one thick, strong arm circles around his waist, pulls him close. “It’s just a bad dream.”

Somehow that only makes his body shudder, only brings forth a fresh burst of tears, hot shame spilling out onto Steve’s cheeks. Billy makes a soothing hum, strokes his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“It’s okay if you’re homesick,” the voice continues; it’s quiet and certain the way it is when he’s whispering filth into Steve’s ear, but different. Talking just to talk, to be present here in the dark, a rope Steve can cling to to pull out of his own head. “I get homesick sometimes, and I don’t even like my home. Plus it’s, like, a couple hours away. You’re way further from home than I’ve ever been…”

Eventually, Steve quiets, breaths smoothing out, body relaxing. Billy still holds him close, kisses the back of his head, the curve of his ear. Steve shivers, presses back into Billy’s frame, and admits, just for a moment, just to himself, how nice it is to feel cared for.

The fourth time…might be Steve’s fault. A little.

It’s Billy’s birthday, and Steve wants to surprise him with something nice. Hits on the perfect idea—a turntable. Reaches into his own birthday-money savings to get a nice one, spends an entire fucking day on the Internet figuring out how to set the damn thing up, nabs some vintage records. The Scorpions. Pink Floyd. Def Leppard. The Who. And some newer stuff, too—Billy might be the worst roommate, but he’s got decent taste in music.

Billy is out late that night, and Steve might be obsessively refreshing Instagram to see if he’s staying the night with some new squeeze. But only because, if so, he can stop pretending to work on this History paper and go to bed. Definitely not because he’s hoping Billy will come home. After all, there’s no reason he can’t give him his present tomorrow—

The sound of the key in the lock has him dashing across the room. And just as the door opens, Steve’s got the needle dropping.

Billy comes in, and he’s blinking, nonplussed, as if a Post Malone and Swae Lee collaboration is something brand new and foreign. Steve smiles, bopping his head along. “Hey, roomie. Happy birthday.”

Billy still looks confused. “I thought you hated my music?”

“Some of it doesn’t suck.” Steve motions to the setup, on the shelf over Billy’s desk. The turntable, the receiver, the slightly battered records sitting next to the speakers. “I got you a new player. Hope you don’t mind.”

His roommate moves over to his side of the room, seems hypnotized by the spinning record. “This is for me?”

“And the records.” Steve’s about bursting. “Found some good deals at a thrift shop.” Billy’s still quiet, and Steve is starting to worry. “Hargrove? Everything all right?”

Billy turns, and Steve’s never seen this expression on his face before. Something strangely cracked down the middle, jagged but soft. “You did this for me?”

Steve laughs a little, walks over to him, bumps his hips into Billy’s. Takes his hands. “I don’t see any other birthday boys around. C’mon.” And he tugs Billy forward, slides his arms around Billy’s neck, swivels his hips meaningfully.

And Billy, who can dance because of course he can, catches on, puts his hands on Steve’s hips, pulls him even closer. There’s a moment of confusion as they fight over who leads, but Billy slides his arm around Steve’s back, and Steve remembers the solid feel of Billy’s body that night. He lets go, allows himself to melt into the embrace; a moment later, they’re swiveling and twirling in tandem, laughing as they dodge piles of clothing on the floor.

The song is over too soon; Billy’s cheeks are a little pink, his blue eyes sparkling. Steve screws up his courage, reaches forward, and gives him a little peck on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Billy.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Steve can feel something change between them. For a moment, he panics, afraid he’s messed things up. But Billy only reaches up, brushes his face with his fingertips. Threads those same fingertips through Steve’s hair. Pulls him close until their lips meet.

And Steve realizes he’s never kissed Billy Hargrove before.

He wonders why he’s waited so long.

The fifth time, it’s definitely Steve’s fault.

It’s Steve’s fault because it’s been two weeks since Billy’s birthday, since they kissed, and Billy’s barely so much as touched him.

It wasn’t like it was even that deep a kiss. You could almost describe it as “chaste”, if you could describe anything Billy Hargrove was involved with as “chaste”. Mouth mostly closed, no tongue.

But since then, since Billy had said “thank you” and pled exhaustion, things have been…normal. Working out. Studying. Getting drunk. Getting drunk and then studying and then going to class on two hours’ sleep because they’re twenty years old and invincible.

Things are normal, and Steve is scrabbling at the walls. What is Billy waiting for? Did Steve screw it up worse than he’d thought? Does Billy just want to forget everything?

To make the whole thing even more surreal, the stream of girls have largely disappeared from Billy’s Instagram. He still posts, but mostly pictures of food, party selfies, the occasional now-playing post with one of the records Steve bought him.

Steve can’t figure it out, but if Billy wants to pretend nothing’s changed, well, Steve’s family wrote the fucking book on that. So he pretends right along with him. Pretends he’s into studying. Pretends he’s into working out. Pretends he’s into his roommate a normal amount.

Actually, it turns out that he doesn’t have to pretend to like working out. He feels better afterward. Helps to clear his head, keep the nightmares away. And as much as he dislikes the studying, Billy and their study benders are the reason he’s passing all his classes, so.

So Steve can maybe be forgiven for being a little blindsided when he’s home one afternoon, sitting on the bed in old clothes, when Billy comes in dressed to impress. Tight jeans, cologne, shirt open down to the navel, because this is southern California and it’s ridiculously warm outside in March. And he’s carrying a flower.

A sunflower.

“Hey,” he says, uncharacteristically quiet, as he sits at the foot of the bed. “I’m…I’m not good with relationships. Never really done them before. And I…I don’t think of you as a trophy. I don’t think of anyone as trophies, really—my Instagram isn’t for bragging, it’s for remembering. Because there are so many things in my life I’d rather forget, and I’m afraid if I don’t post about the good times I’ll forget them too.”

“Billy,” Steve’s voice is quiet.

Billy keeps going, with the increasingly frenzied determination of someone afraid of what will happen if they stop. “And I’ve had so many good times with you, and I started to think about why that is, and I realized it’s because you make them happen. And I wonder if that isn’t what love is. Someone who puts in the effort to make sure you have more good memories together than bad ones. And I’ve never really had that before—”

“Billy,” Steve’s voice is a little louder this time, but it’s still not enough to break through.

“—I don’t know if I can have this, or if I’ll mess it up or whatever, but the point is that I want you. Like, I want to fuck you, I want to see you wearing my come, I want to hear your voice as I split you apart on my fingers or maybe my cock—” Steve finds his mouth suddenly dry— “but also I want to hold you at night. I want to keep hearing those little grumbling noises you make when I wake you up to go work out. I want to find whatever it is that gives you nightmares and crush it. I want you in my life, Steve, and if you need me to ask you out like a seventh-grader, I’ll do it. So.” He clears his throat, holds out the sunflower. “Will you go out with me?”

Steve feels a smile slowly spread across his face. “Billy.”

Billy blinks, eyes seeming to focus on Steve for the first time. “What?”

And Steve’s smile grows wider as he takes the flower, caresses the petals, sets it carefully aside on the bedside table. “Didn’t you remember? It’s laundry day.”

Billy looks down, sees Steve dressed in Billy’s Thrasher shirt, in his old sweats, and a moment later Steve is in his arms, Billy’s weight bearing them both down onto the bed as he plasters their lips together, as their hands roam each other’s bodies, fingertips finding heated skin as their tongues caress, Steve’s moan soft in his throat as his rapidly-filling cock bumps against Billy’s constrained erection.

After a moment, Billy comes up for air, looking down at Steve as if he can’t quite believe he’s there. “Fuck. There’re so many things I want to do to you I’m not even sure where to start.” He runs a hand down Steve’s side, and Steve feels the heat even through the clothes, feels the answering heat rising up to his skin. “Tell me what you want.”

Steve finds his courage. “You said something about splitting me apart?” Smiles a little. “D’you think you can do it while I’m still wearing your clothes?”

Billy’s grin is slow, predatory. “I’ll do you one better than that, sweetheart.” He reaches over to Steve’s bedside table, grabs lube. “Lie back and relax. I’m going to make you feel amazing.”

And some part of Steve can’t quite believe this is happening, that he’s about to let Billy Hargrove—practically the school bicycle—fuck him, but here he is, and there’s no denying the way he’s hard in the borrowed sweats. He palms himself a little through the fabric, eyes hot on Billy’s hands as his roommate turns back to him, sees what he’s up to. “Nuh-uh,” Billy says, smile curving his lips again. “Hands over your head. Grip the headboard. If you let go, I’ll stop.”

It’s a threat, and a filthy fucking promise, and Steve can practically feel the flush creeping up his skin as he obeys, raises his arms overhead. Billy reaches over, fingers catching in the waistband, as he tugs the sweats down. Steve isn’t wearing underwear, and he sucks in a breath as his cock springs free, cool air suddenly caressing sensitive skin.

“God,” Billy says, almost reverently. “So fucking beautiful.” He brings his head down, nuzzles the join of Steve’s thigh with his lips, breath hot on Steve’s skin, before pulling away. “Just relax,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

Steve sighs, lets his head fall back onto the pillow, hears the snap of the lube bottle. Feels Billy’s fingers, a moment later, sliding into the space between his legs. The waistband of the sweats is still around Steve’s knees, and the lube leaves an obscene trail of wetness on the insides of his thighs, but Billy is talking again, like he always does when he’s turned on, soft-voiced promises of things to come, even as his fingers find Steve’s hole.

The sensation is unfamiliar, and Steve sucks in a breath, but Billy just holds there a moment, stroking the sensitive rim. And as his finger begins to press, he nuzzles soft kisses against Steve’s skin—his thighs, his belly, his navel. “God, you’re so tight for me. All for me. I can’t believe it. Just breathe, baby. You know how much I fucking want you.”

Steve breathes. Lets go of the uncertainty, the anxiety, the wondering who Billy would be with right now if it wasn’t for him—because it is him, he’s here, and Billy’s finger is pressing up into him, and it’s unfamiliar but not bad, not with those lips pressing praise into his skin, not with Billy’s breath hot on his skin and Billy’s face brushing against his aching cock and Jesus fuck—

Steve can hear his own ragged cry, can feel Billy’s grin against his belly. “I thought you’d like that, pretty boy.”

“I didn’t—didn’t even know—” Steve’s voice breaks off into a ragged whine as Billy does something with his finger, something that sets off a shock wave of pleasure, expanding through his nerves. “Fuck, I didn’t know—”

“You’re so beautiful like this.” Two fingers now, pressing. “Keep breathing. Let me in.”

Steve’s eyes are shut tight, his breath ragged, and Billy’s barely touched his cock. Steve bites his lower lip, breath catching in his throat as Billy kisses closer in, until those fingers crook in and down and there it is again, that sensation of expansion, of heat, fire fizzling through every single one of his nerves, and again—

“You’re going to come like this.” Billy’s voice is soft, deep, certain; an inevitability settling deep into Steve’s hindbrain. “You’re going to come, just like this, on nothing but my fingers. You’re going to paint my shirt with your spunk, and you’re going to beg me to do it again, to take you in my mouth, to fuck you, to give you everything I have, and I will—”

“Please—” Steve is gasping, the words and the kisses and the strange overwhelming sensation flooding his body, those wicked fingers eliciting sensations that fill him, whiten his knuckles, push tears from his eyes. “Fuck, please, Billy, let me come—please—”

And even with his eyes closed, Steve can see the grin on Billy’s face, can hear it in his voice. “Just for me, pretty boy. Come for me.”

Another press, and another, and Steve is full, is spilling over, is spilling out, wrecked moans overflowing from his lips, sobs wracking his frame, whole body convulsing as Billy presses in and up, demanding everything Steve has to give. And he gives it, willingly, lets it go, until he feels free and light and empty. Even gives his quiet sobs into Billy’s mouth, after, when he comes up for a kiss.

It’s not Steve’s fault, the way he looks at Billy then, tears clinging to his eyelashes, creating a halo of light around Billy’s golden hair. Anyone would have done the same, in his position. Surrendered to Billy Hargrove’s hands, his care, his pure joy in giving this to Steve.

It’s totally Steve’s fault how Billy looks at him. Like something bright, and beautiful, and completely unexpected, and all the more precious for its rarity.

Like a sunflower, in the middle of a grey winter’s day.

#harringrove #harringroveweekoflove #loveweekifao #roommates au #cw: mild kink #cw: dirty talk #cw: billy hargrove's fingers #fluff #my writing

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roger1na · 5 years

Text

careful ch5 - john deacon x reader

summary: you are a ballet student at the royal ballet academy. To pay for your tuition, you work part-time at the celebrity gossip magazine, Seven. One fateful day you’re sent to interview a band on the rise, Queen, post-concert and befriend the sweetest man on the planet.

word count: 2.3k+

warnings: swearing

author's note: i'm so happy w all the positive comments i get you guys have all my uwus <3. i've realised FAR too late that brian's supposed to have hepatitis right now so ig in this universe it didn't happen, let's save our boy from some sickness. i think if i can keep to plan, careful should be twelve whole chapters! i don't want to start any new series before it's complete, i'm prone to abandoning projects if i don't really stick with them.

[ch1] [ch2] [ch3] [ch4] [ch5] [ch6] [ch7] [ch8]

chapter five

There was a certain routine to being in love. The butterflies you got every time you wrote about him in your diary. The softness of your heart when you heard Queen play on the radio and perked up your ears to hear the often forgotten bassline.

You soon learned that ‘till next time was code for next week, when John brought you lunch again, letting you hold his hand and tease him about his thick curls and shy smile. The late July sunlight played with the shadows on his face beautifully. Sometimes you felt as if you could just stare at his face forever, get lost in his features. Rose comforted you, saying it was part of falling in love. It terrified you, as a thought. But you hadn’t even properly kissed yet. The thought was ridiculous.

“What’re you thinking about, love?” You let the term of endearment roll of your tongue nervously, relying on British culture to keep your true meaning hidden. You had been walking for quite some time in silence after enjoying lunch in Kensington.

He hesitated slightly before replying. “The new album is so Freddie, Brian and Roger. I feel like the bass is lost.”

“You wish there’d be more bass?”

“Well, I don’t mind not being in the spotlight all the time…” he trailed off.

“But?” You encouraged him.

“I miss songs like Liar. Where I had a solo and all that.”

“You should write your own song, then.”

He looked at you, eyebrows raised, incredulous expression plastered across his face. You laughed and shrugged. “I know none of the songs on Queen and Queen II are yours. Why don’t you give this one a little Deaky twist?”

“Yeah but I can’t sing.”

“Bullshit, you have a great voice.” You stopped walking and turned to him. “I at least like it.”

A small redness spread across his cheeks and he avoided your gaze. “Well, uh,” he stumbled over his words.

“And also, if you want something a little less serious, why not play a bit of a practical joke on them? Something silly and stupid, Freddie would go bonkers for that.” You trailed off before smiling softly. “And, uh, Liar is my favourite song. Especially the bass.”

“You flatter me.”

“I’m serious.”

“I am too! They’re going to have a laugh.”

“Well then, make it into a funny song. Then they’ll laugh for the humour and you won’t feel bad if they insult your poetry or whatever.”

“You really think I should do this?”

“Absolutely.” You took hold of both of his hands and grinned.

You were caught in the moment just staring into his eyes. They were a wonderful shade of grey, occasionally looking dark and black in the shadows and sometimes twinkling like diamonds. You kept going back to the concert where you’d met him. The mischievous glint in his eye kept bringing you back to the silver glint of his bass strings.

A camera shutter snapped behind you, startling you. John’s expression changed from happy to apprehensive and his stance became wary.

“Was that a paparazzi?” The word sounded so silly. So fictional. He grimaced and nodded as some college student with a pimply face and shaky legs ran off with expensive equipment, and probably a picture of you and John where you looked madly in love. Or completely ridiculous. Your skirt suddenly felt too short, your shirt cropped too low and your hair messy.

John’s grip on your hand tightened. “Can we just go back?” You mumbled, embarrassment creeping in your voice.

John looked at you, worried. “Yeah, of course. You alright?”

You nodded, but you didn’t even convince yourself. He lead you back to the office through various shortcuts and darkened alleyways, hurriedly making sure nobody followed you. Once you arrived at the big glass doors to your office he apologised profusely.

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve been more careful.” His eyes were sad.

“Hey,” you grabbed his cheeks and squeezed them together slightly to make him form a smile. “Don’t worry about it,” you assured him, although your knees were shaking slightly.

“That’s not normal, I promise.”

“I believe you.” And you wanted to. But fear was creeping in your heart.

“‘Till next time?” He asked nervously.

“‘Till next time,” you promised him, squeezing his cheeks one more time before turning and rushing to the office.

A cloud hung over you as you walked over to your desk, heart beating rapidly, blood rushing in your ears. Williams was whispering something to an intern who looked like he was about to pee his pants at the sight of her, knees clicking together in fear.

You didn’t feel like challenging her anymore. She had a superiority complex. And she definitely hated competition in the workplace, although your intention was not to rise through the ranks. She saw women as something to weed out. You never understood what made her put herself against you, until you were warming up for an audition, and you realised that all the other dancers were looking for the same prize you were. But today, you gave it no thought.

For the first time ever, it properly hit you. John Deacon was famous. He went on tours and played for lovesick fans and probably had an army of teenage girls ready to tear him to shreds if the opportunity presented itself. Or maybe you were being delusional and he was just slightly more known than usual. He was a niche, he was a bass player. He wasn’t in the spotlight that often. Maybe.

You boiled coffee for yourself in thought, stirring in cream and sugar and taking a thoughtful sip. Would your mark on the world be a paparazzi photo with a guy you maybe-dated? While he had an incredible legacy? You’d be like one of those girls in a fan photoshoot which got terribly famous - only to remain anonymous. It was all so complicated.

The office had grown quiet when you returned from the canteen. Several people shot you pitying looks and Williams didn’t look so confident anymore.

“What’s going on?” You whispered to her, suddenly uncomfortably aware of yourself.

Nat left her front desk quickly, hiding something behind her back. “Y/N, sweetheart, don’t be mad…” she trailed off before handing you a copy of the Sun’s evening paper. “It just came in print.”

On the front page there were tons of different news. About celebrity scandals and weird locals. And then a small square image on the right corner of the page. John, with a dopey smile on his face, holding hands with a girl. It was you. Stupid grin and eyes for only John. And the title of the article made you sick.

Queen’s mr. Deacon hanging with the wrong crowd? Somebody should warn you…

Earlier today Queen’s John Deacon was spotted with a girl who works for the infamous gossip magazine Seven. What’s the girl fishing out of him? More on p.13

The article itself was maybe an eighth of a page, accompanied with two pictures. The one on the cover and one where you were entering the office building. But it was pictures of you. It was tarnishing you. You were going to be sick. What would he think if he saw this? You set down the paper and stormed to the bathroom before anybody saw your tears spill over your cheeks.

You stayed like that for a while, occasionally thinking you were brave enough to face people again. Then you caught sight of your red, swollen face and bleary eyes and retreated back into your stall. You mulled things over and over again. Was it always going to be like this?

You were at the office long after hours. Eyes stinging from crying and wiping them with sandpaper-like toilet paper.

Nobody tells you this, but crying from embarrassment and humiliation is the worst type of crying. With every tear that falls, you are reminded of how you messed up or how somebody decided that your actions were something to laugh at. With every sniffle you remembered that you had to go back and face the world, even though your knees were weak and your moral low.

While you were busy letting yourself get run down, the office had emptied. The lights were off and you could hear a lone janitor whistling as he cleaned. You sat down at your desk, pulling your knees to your chest, the chair creaking under your weight. Your sniffle echoed too loud.

You sat there for a while, feeling abandoned by the world. You let yourself be vulnerable and the press snagged onto it. You let yourself fall in love and now half of England thought you were scheming slag.

Your eyes drifted around your desk and landed on the locked drawer where you kept your diary. You fiddled with the lock a bit before it clicked open.

It was filled with memories from the wonder of late july. John this, John that. Ballet had trailed off the pages. You still danced. Every day but saturdays and sometimes even then. Your toes were bleeding often and your ankles hurt and you barely slept because your job started early and ballet ended late. But you had forgotten how much it used to eat up your happiness. It was the only thing that brought you joy. Now that John was part of the scene, you had a break every day. Like an entry to a whole nother universe for half an hour. Where he told you about photography and birds and basslines and you explained how all ballet dancers were evil because every understudy hoped for the failure of the prima ballerina. It was change and it was great. The fear in your heart was losing the fight.

If Rose could astral project, she would’ve appeared to you right then and there, screaming at you to call him.

You dialed his number and picked up the phone. It rang a few times before he answered, nervous on the other line.

“Hello this is John Deacon here,” he announced and then made a small tsk noise with his mouth.

You were so overcome with the relief of hearing his voice that you only managed a small sniffle.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

You took a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah.”

“You sound like you’re in tears.”

You laughed blearily. “Yes well, a bit. Don’t pick up the Sun today.”

“Ah, I see.”

“You read it?”

“Well, I know where you work. I’m still fine.”

You pressed your face into your hand. “God I feel like such an idiot.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault, y’know? I should’ve realised. You’re John Deacon of Queen.”

John’s heart stilled. You didn’t sound bitter, just sad. Like you were done with everything. The lunch dates were a bad idea. The ballet lessons and the phone calls and the pampering. Bad ideas. He was about to open his mouth but you stopped him.

“I’m all in.”

“What?”

“Paparazzi and bad reputation and all stupid things included. All in.”

“What?” He was struggling to grasp what you were trying to get across to him.

“I feel like… I was one foot out of the door? I was nervous and hesitant to fall for somebody. And when I saw that article, it was maybe the worst moment of my life so far.”

“This isn’t very convincing.”

You started laughing on the other end. “Oh, you’re right, I need to clarify. I looked through my diary and so much has happened since I fainted at that concert. I’m all in. No hesitation anymore.”

“You keep a diary?” You could hear his teasing smirk through the phone.

“That’s what you got from me pouring my soul out to you?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t pick up on the subtext that I’m definitely kissing you the next time we see?”

“Oh?”

“I’m going to hang up now-”

“No wait! Tell me more.” He urged you, laughing on the other end.

“You sure? You don’t want to tease me anymore?”

“I’ll stop, I promise.”

“Okay,” you giggled. “So, Swan Lake by my class group has its opening night next week, Friday at 8pm. And I was hoping you’d join me. Or join the audience, I suppose.”

“I get to see you dance?” His voice was alive with joy and wonder, in an almost childlike way.

“Yes, yes! That’s what I mean. That’s part of all in. You get to see me dance.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Yes I agree, I am wonderful.” You laughed.

He scoffed on the other end. But his heart was palpitating. He was overcome with happiness. It’d been strange, courting a girl who was so carried by art, so immersed in dance that she could let herself go for weeks on end just to keep up with it. Seeing her work come to life was the biggest prize he could’ve gotten from making time for you, bringing you lunch, making sure you didn’t starve yourself for the work.

“What made you decide you’d want to kiss me?”

“It’s been too long, hasn’t it? There’s been too many almosts. To hell with almosts.”

“Have you drank something?”

“No!”

“You promise? I won’t wake up tomorrow and you’ll have forgotten all of this?”

“Of course not, I’m responsible.”

“Sure.”

You chatted for a while. He was such lovely company. So full of adoration and respect and wit. He had such a way with words. You felt deep longing in your heart. You also felt relieved, like five years worth of missing love was finally replaced with the warmth of another person.

“I think I’ve got to go now,” you whispered when the janitor entered your section of the office. “I’ll see you friday.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Bye, John.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

You set down the phone, adrenaline making your hands tremble ever so slightly. You wiped your face one last time before taking your things and leaving the office. There was a spring to your step which echoed in the empty evening London streets. You could hear the bellowing of drunks from the pubs and the crying of a baby from a nearby apartment. But it didn’t really mean anything to you anymore. You were flying on the wings of love.

God you felt ridiculous.

***

taglist: @fourmisfits @deakysgirl @im-happy-at-home @obsessedwithrogertaylor @itsametaphorbriansblog @rhapso-kei

#john deacon x reader #deacy x reader #deaky x reader #joe!john deacon x reader #joe!john x reader #john deacon #queen imagine #careful - jd #aa u guys im so excited for the following chapters #trust me it gets fantastico #youre going to love it bc it's going to be /hella/ overdramatic #and trope-y #so trope-y

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thebachelordiaries · 5 years

Text

My Late ASF Recap of Some Early Episodes of ‘The Bachelorette’

What’s up, everyone? I’m at jury duty with some time to kill, so I thought this would be the best time to catch up on my Bachelorette recaps. Don’t feel sorry for me. If I had it my way, Casey Anthony would’ve been found guilty, Luke P. would need to go on trial for gaslighting women, and Ashley I. and Jared would be indefinitely banned from appearing on any Bachelor franchise show. Don’t thank me; I’m just a normal person who wants to make the world a fair and better place.

Ashley I. and Jared are the people five years removed from high school who still show up to the parties. Go home.

What even happened on Episodes 2, 3 and 4?

I just had to check and make sure there’s been four episodes already. I swear the premiere happened last week. It’s a similar feeling to being 23 and then waking up one day and realizing you’re 28. Time flies when you’re not doing anything with your life.

I don’t know a lot of things, but...

...Here’s What I Do Know About This Season

I have no idea why Tyler G left. This normal-ass dude with the jawline of a demigod and the personality of a barren midwest field got the first 1-on-1 date with Hannah. The only remarkable thing about it was we realized just how dirty the cast photo photographer did him.

This striking individual is allegedly the same person as this thumb-of-a-man below:

I don’t wish unemployment on anyone, but I hope the photographer who took this picture received a very fair severance package.

By episode four, Tyler G. was quietly sent home with no explanation. Obviously he was accused of something and ABC didn’t want that burden on their back, especially after they casted a SEX OFFENDER on Becca’s season, so he, and his Ian Somerhalder-esque jawline were sent back to wherever they came from.

Goodbye, Tyler G. We hardly knew ye. In the future don’t (allegedly) spit in any girl’s face. You might get kicked off a reality TV show one day.

Luke P. (the “P” stands for PLEASE LET’S STOP GIVING HIM ATTENTION)

I get that he’s the “villain” of this season, but hear me out.

Luke P. isn’t that bad. (Narrator: He really is that bad. Just wait)

Sure, he exudes so much confidence that it makes me roll my eyes into the back of my head, but I kind of respect it. (Narrator: She doesn’t respect it anymore)

I know people are saying he was “love bombing” Hannah on night 1 in order to get the first impression rose, but I just want to make it clear that it doesn’t make him an abusive person just because he flooded her with affection, and people shouldn’t label him a possible abuser because of that single instance. It’s not like he (allegedly) spat in his girlfriend’s face. (Narrator: Gaslighting is abusive behavior)

(Narrator: This paragraph somewhat defending Luke P. has beed removed due to bad judgement. Luke P. actually does suck. A lot.)

Every season there’s a little punk who has no chance at staying on the show with their connection with The Bachelorette alone, so they decide to spark a feud with the guy getting the most camera time. First there was Chad and Evan. Then there was Jordan and David. Now There’s Luke P. and Luke S.

Luke P. and I make the same face whenever Luke S. opens his mouth.

And I get it. I, too, have a secret hatred for every person with the same name as me, but Luke S. annoys me so much that I’m starting to feel bad for Luke P. (Narrator: She doesn’t feel bad anymore)

Maybe I’m wrong and Luke P. really is the worst. (Narrator: He is)

Maybe he really is being a douche canoe off camera and deserves to be ganged up on by the other guys. (Narrator: He is)

I don’t have the answers. (Narrator: You soon will)

I’m just saying I hate Luke S. more. (Narrator: This is no longer true. Luke S. is still annoying though)

MIKE FOR BACHELOR

I honestly don’t care if you don’t like Mike. Nobody asked you.

I see so much Bachelor potential in him, and I really think (with the right edit, COUGH, COUGH, ABC) he could become our first black Bachelor.

That smile. That damn smile.

I don’t care if you love Pilot Pete, Tyler C., Jedd, or whoever else the frontrunners are right now. If any of them get the gig over Mike, I’m strongly considering protesting in the streets. I’m fairly confident, with the power of Bachelor Twitter fandom, that we can make the #MikeForBachelor movement happen.

My only concern is that Mike seems like he is getting mixed up in the drama, which I hope doesn’t paint him in a negative light. And I’m scared he’s going to get eliminated before the top 6, which could hurt his chances. I’m at the edge of my seat at every rose ceremony.

Nevertheless, I do think that we can will this to come true. Mike :clap: for :clap: Bachelor :clap:.

FRONTRUNNERS

To put it bluntly, these are the only guys who have a chance with Hannah:

Jedd— He pulled an “8-Mile” and dissed himself before anyone else could by admitting to Hannah that he came on the show for the “wrong reasons.” The thing about “red flags” are that you ignore then when you’re into someone. Despite Jedd waving his “wrong reasons” flag (he wants to promote his country music career) in front of her face, Hannah could care less. She’s smitten.

Tyler C.— Look, if Hannah isn’t into Tyler C., she should just let Twitter fight over who gets what body part. I would like to call dibs on his torso. On a more serious note, Tyler C. is insanely hot, shockingly deep and actually seems like a genuine person. Everyone thought Blake was going to be to hottest ticket in Paradise, but now he’s not even on the starting roster. Meanwhile. Tyler C. is first up at bat. With that said, I don’t think Hannah is going to pick him, but he’s top four for sure.

A short list of people Tyler C. looks like: Patrick Swayze, Miles Teller, Ryan Lochte, Connor, my future husband.

Connor— Poor Connor may have had the worst 1-on-1 date of all time. Hannah was sick, so instead of doing whatever they had planned, they laid in bed for about 15 minutes. He was a good sport about it and still got the rose. My mom said he was the perfect gentleman. There’s something kind of pure about him, and he has big “best to take home to mom and dad” energy.

Pilot Pete— I admittedly didn’t “get” they hype surrounding this guy. He looks like a pudgy man baby from certain angles. But from other angles, he can get it. I officially became part of the Pilot Pete fan club when he PICKED UP HANNAH AND MADE OUT WITH HER AGAINST THE WALL.

Yeah, we stan. (Also follow me on Twitter, @thebachdiaries)

Garrett— He’s my dark horse. I feel like we haven’t seen enough of him, but I think he should get a 1-on-1 date soon. I mean, he literally looks like Jordan Rodger’s long lost brother. He’s rich (you can’t be a pro golfer and poor at the same time. I think you have to pay hefty annual fees), is from Alabama, has an adorable southern accent, and was the first person to come out of the limo (which always means something.) The thing is, I don’t really like him. He reminds me of a frat bro who giggles at immature poop jokes.

HONORABLE MENTION:

Luke P.— Even though Hannah is fed up with Luke P’s sh*t, she admitted she still has strong feelings for him. Plus, he received the first impression rose, and the recipient of that rose has gone on to get the final rose for FOUR SEASONS IN A ROW. I’m just saying. Luke P. may win this thing.

Stay tuned for more recaps that will come out whenever I feel like posting them.

I wrote this recap weeks ago, but never posted it. I need to get back on the ball with this blog. I promise I will be back on (or off...depends how you look at it) my bullsh*t soon.

#The Bachelorette #abc #chris harrison #hannah brown #luke p #tyler c #photo credit: ABC

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thewildheroine · 5 years

Text

Fly Away |Thirty|

Warnings: Abuse mentions, language

Word Count: 3K

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: Yo okay so tumblr fuckignjlbshfalbdh deleted my shit before I even got the chance to post, so here’s my second go at it :(((((((( Sorry that it’s so brief but I’m still a little rusty. I hope you guys enjoy and if you like it please reblog loves!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

|Masterlist|

“How can I survive this without my magic, Heather?” I wonder, already sensing that the vortex is trying to suck me up again. We’ve been walking for a long time, though I have no idea how long. Time is non-existent here and the miles we walk become the ones in front of us. Everything here is simply infinite. Well... as simple as infinity can get.

Heather smiles softly, as always, knowing something I don’t. “It’s your magic, Y/N.”

“No, it’s not,” I whisper, despair settling in like a cruel disease. “I gave it to Dormammu. I’m not a sorceress anymore. I’m not the Bluebird.”

“Glinda…” Heather murmurs sweetly, using the ancient nickname before grabbing my hand and holding against her chest. “Your magic is your soul, and as long as you’re alive your soul will want to come home.” She turns away from me, looking into the white abyss. I follow her eyes and immediately shrink backward. A swirling, opalescent hurricane has opened up overhead. Fearing the worst, I look at my free hand. My suspicions are confirmed where I see my fingers fading into dust before being sucked into the vortex.

“Heather-” I have to measure the questions I could ask in a split second. “What’s happening?” I finally murmur in a desperate voice.

“That doesn’t matter right now,” she asserts. “What does is that you escape. You can only do it with magic.”

“Which I don’t have,” I remind her, growing slightly impatient. Suddenly a look spreads over her face. The look. The look she’d give me everything time she came up with a horrible idea, and I already know what her idea is. “No,” I growl, indignant even when I’m running out of time. “There is no way I’m doing that Heather.”

“Why not?” I roll my eyes and spare the hurricane another frightened glace.

“Because he won’t just give up his magic to me, and I obviously can’t take it.” I hold up my hands frustratedly, showing her that I don’t have the magic to pull my father’s away from him. “I have nothing, and it wouldn’t even be enough to get me out of the hell hole he’s going to throw me in!” I feel guilty for being angry towards Heather after so many years of not seeing her- of believing she was dead. After everything though, after being tortured and haunted and taken advantage of it’s so easy to be angry. Even with Heather.

Despite my outburst, her eyes remain patient though. Her loving purple eyes. “Then fight,” she whispers, and I finally catch a glimpse of something unusual in her eyes. Guilt. Like she’s in on some sort of universal secret I don’t know about. I open my mouth to say something back, but instead, I’m only left with her voice murmuring ideas straight to my mind.

Take in your surroundings.

When I open my eyes tears that I hadn’t even known existed are streaming down my cheeks. I’m on a bed. One softer than even the one at the base. The springs don’t ache below me as I draw in a deep, patient breath. Everything here is white. There’s no detail, just absence. The only thing with color is the different picture frames sitting on the desk and bookshelves. Ones I can’t remember. Ones that are absolutely and entirely fake.

Things are going to be warped.

I stand up from the sofa bed and step towards a bookshelf. On it is a beautifully framed photo. The photo itself is from what seems to be three years ago based on the appearance of my face. I look like I’m thirteen in it. Old enough to trick people into letting me work. To my right is my father, smile glowing on his face in a way I have never seen before, and to my left is a beautiful woman. She has to be just about my height now, and her long, y/h//c hair matches my own. My mom.

It will be based on your father’s mind and everything he’s created

Across the room, I see the glimmer of a mirror. Turning around slowly, I begin to approach the corner in which it stands ominously, ready to show me something just as frightening as this place. As soon as I see myself in the mirror I take a step back. I don’t recognize the girl I just saw. She is unscathed with soft, beautiful skin and hair that seems to gleam in the dim lighting of this room. She is lovely. The image of an angel. There are no ugly scars that mark up her body. Again, I begin walking towards the mirror, this time keeping my eyes locked onto myself. The only similarity I see between the two of us is our eyes, which both hold the same fear.

He will have made everything to be perfect.

I close my eyes and concentrate on Heather’s voice.

Ruin his perfection.

I open my eyes and look towards the exit.

Destroy it.

Gulping, I stumble to the doorway.

Sow chaos into his order.

Staring at the door frame I swear I can see a green haze peeking through. Just like the apartment.

Ravage against everything that place is.

I brace myself once more and place my hand on the cold, bronze knob.

Fight, Y/N.

My hand quakes against the metal. In fact, my whole body does and no matter how hard I will it, it won’t stop.

Fight for me.

I close my eyes and tighten my grip on the handle, trying to push away my fear

Fight for those who raised you.

I suck in a big breath, praying that the extra oxygen may help to slow my racing, aching heart.

Fight for Peter.

I listen closely as the door clicks. My entire body shudders as I open my eyes to stare through the small crack I’ve just created. Through it drifts in the smell of cinnamon, and coffee, and, if I’m not mistaken, chocolate chip cookies.

Most importantly Y/N…

Realizing the air I’ve trapped in my lungs I swing the door open and straighten myself. I clench my free fist and glare at the man and woman who are sitting silently at the table opposite to me.

Fight for yourself…

Everything, every atom in the room, stops as both my parents, the man who I hate and the woman I have never known look towards me, gaping out of absolute bewilderment. My grip on the door handle tightens so much I’m afraid that I may just break it. Knowing it is more likely that I will hurt myself I drop the hand to my side.

Because there is no one in there who can do it for you.

“Y/N,” my father, murmurs in an uncharacteristically soft voice. It takes everything inside of me not to throw myself at him and rip the man to shreds with my bare hands. Instead, I just let my eyes snap to him, fire filling them. “Come sit with us.” He reaches across the table and grabs the woman's hand who visibly shrinks under his touch. My eyes meet her’s suddenly, and I feel my heart quench. I see everything I am in her. Scared eyes. Oh god, we’re both so scared.

“I made cinnamon rolls,” she nods at me, and I immediately understand that she isn’t telling me, but warning me. I gulp and take another glance at my father. Although his expression is still soft I can see the slight strain in his expression.

My fingers unwrap themselves so they are no longer clenched and I try to force some sort of pleasantness into my expression. Biting my lip, I make my way towards the table. My mother has already made me a plate and wordlessly she slides it towards me as I take a seat.

“Thank you,” I mumble my first words in this warped place. When I look up she smiles at me softly and I find myself curious about what exactly she’s thinking of. I wonder if she’s imagining a different lifetime. One where my father and husband wasn’t so cruel. One where she was allowed the chance to raise me throughout my childhood. One where I could learn magic on my own terms. One where I was loved day in and day out. One where she taught me how to be strong and how to fight. One where she helped pick out homecoming dresses and threatened the boys who’d come by the house.

“Of course Y/N,” my mom whispers back. Her voice is not sweet. It is hoarse from a hundred battle cries. She has scars over the entire extent of her body. Ones on her collar bones that have turned a pale shade of their original tone. There are puffy brands that seem to be the result of brands. On her arm, the only part of her that doesn’t seem to be marked by pain, is the mark of the Valkrie. She follows my eyes to the dark brown tattoo and smiles. There’s something reminiscent in her eyes. Like somehow, serving Asgardian royalty was a simpler time. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was.

Wordlessly, I cut through my cinnamon roll, keeping my eyes down. Both of their eyes are on me. I can feel them.

Even as my father reaches his other hand across the table to cover mine I keep my eyes on my food. She had to have had a reason for why she interfered before I let my anger get the best of me. When his ice-cold hand lands on mine I flinch. Goosebumps appear on my forearms and I shiver as quietly as I can manage.

“Now Icarus,” I feel the need to choke on the nickname. No one has called me that in six years. The last time I heard it was the day before my tenth birthday. “I know this is a big change, but I just want you to know the rules.” I furrow my brows and look up at him through a thin curtain of hair.

“Rules?” I question. My voice is alarmingly vulnerable.

“Of course.” My father’s grip on my hand tightens suddenly, and I feel my knuckles crack. “All you need to do is listen to me.” Unable to stop myself, I scoff and look back down at my cinnamon roll.

“It’s not like I have much of a choice, do I?”

“Excuse me?”

“Y/N,” my mother pleads from her spot on the table. Suddenly, I begin wondering how many of those scars really happened in battle.

“You take away my magic, my choice,” I throw my fork down on the plate, “my family.” All of the sudden my father yanks me towards him. My ribcage hits the edge of the table and I wince out loud, pain bursting through my chest. The second I look up I’m faced with my father, whose eyes are filled with molten lava. I don’t shrink under his gaze though. Something about my mother has given me back my iron heart so that I can face him with my head held high.

“We are your family, Y/N,” he retorts, his voice stern. I scowl and shake my head side to side.

“To me,” I rip away from his grasp, “you are the man who destroyed my childhood, and she is just the women I’ve met in my dreams. You are not my family, and you cannot control me.”

Everyone is silent as though we’re waiting to see if I back down. I’m even waiting for my resolve to falter. It doesn’t though. My eyes stay cold, indifferent to the man in front of me, and after so many years of his torture and abuse and manipulations, I see all the power in his eyes fade away. He has nothing left to hurt me, and therefore he has lost control.

Finally, he drops his eyes and reaches to grab his napkin. I watch attentively as he rubs the white cloth against the corners of his mouth, his eyes still cast down. My mother’s fear rolls off her shoulders and towards me, but I do not look away. When my father looks up again he’s angry, yet he doesn’t know where to put it all.

Abruptly, he stands from the table, the legs of his chair screeching against the marble floors. I watch as he numbly tosses the napkin onto his plate. My mother, on the other hand, bows her head and goes back to picking at her food. Once he can manage to look me in my eyes my father glares down at me, raising his finger accusingly.

“I want this place cleaned up by the time I get back for dinner.” My expression remains blank as my father stalks over to a hallway that I assume leads to an exit. Both my mom and I watch as he disappears. Once he’s gone her eyes are on the side of my head again. I swallow and tear off a piece of my roll.

I’ve walked throughout the entire house five times over, but I still can’t get used to it. As a child, it was everything I hoped for. It’s all so pure. Everything is so perfect. Even the air. Breathing it in I find that it smells like the ocean. There are windows covering an entire wall, and they all look out on an infinite sea of clouds. Everything is white. The floors are white marble, the ceilings are white arches. It’s like this place has been waiting for my arrival so that I may color it myself.

I think this is everything I wanted. When I was young at least. I wanted a place that felt pure, a place where I felt pure, but now I want nothing more than to be sitting at the kitchen island, basking in the rays of the real sun, which I have taken for granted so much, as Peter traces the scars covering my hands. The only imperfections in this entire place are the ones that cover my mother. I don’t even have imperfections anymore. He’s taken those away as well.

“It’s beautiful out there,” she remarks behind me, as though just the thought of my mom summoned her. “It reminds me of Asgard,” my mom continues under her breath as she slowly approaches the windows. “I loved it there, you know? It was always so beautiful.” I turn towards her, curiosity getting the best of me.

“Then why did you come to Earth,” I question. My mother smiles, remembering.

“I suppose it was my disregard for authority that prompted them to exile me.” She places a scarred hand against the glass. The clouds seemingly shift beneath her gaze, and I’m stunned to see them part, revealing the true, pearly ocean beneath.

“Glad to know where I got it from,” I scoff, trying my hardest to hide my amazement. Glad to know where I got everything from.

“I know I’m not your mother, Y/N,” she informs all of the sudden, and I find myself at an immediate loss for words. “I have no right to be. I wasn’t there for any of it. Your childhood.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” I remind her.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you aren’t my daughter, nor are you your father’s.” She beams at the beautiful sky, shining its perfection down on us. “I believe someone else deserves that honor far more than us.” I find myself gawking at the women before me, finding something about her so very unbelievable. I don’t understand how I can see so much of myself in her, and how she can see just as much of herself in me, and yet she understands that I can’t think of her as my… mom. I know she is. I know she and I share blood, but she isn’t my mom, and it is so incredibly amazing to me that she knows that.

“How’d you end up with that monster?” I laugh quietly. She’s so good and kind and the fact that she managed to end up with my father is unfathomable.

“He wasn’t always a monster. Before Dormammu found him, he was good, Y/N. He was a man who could’ve loved you properly.” Tears rim her eyes as she remembers a man who I do not know. “He called you Icarus before you were born, too.”

“Well, it’s not really endearing, huh?” I shake my head and look out at the endless sky. “He told me that story to remind me that I am not permitted to fly away. That’s how he phrased it you know. Fly away. Every damn time. He always said it like I was a goddamn broken bird that couldn’t escape.” I wish that I could take hold of my magic at this moment, but it is gone. It can’t rumble in my fingertips anymore.

“That wasn’t the reason he called you Icarus before you were born,” she informs confidently. “In Asgard, we had our own version of the story.” The woman looks to me, our eyes mirroring each other. “An intelligent father created wax wings so that he and his son may escape a cruel king, but the child, Icarus, flew too close to the sun. I assume you know what happens next.”

“Of course,” I mumble. “He falls to the ocean and drowns. His father drags him out and curses his own genius. I’ve heard it a thousand times.”

“Icarus didn’t drown.” My mom looks at me closely. “She fell to the waves and she sunk, and sunk, and sunk, but she never hit the ocean floor. Instead, she was reborn on the other side with wings made of sunlight.” Suddenly, she grabs onto both of my shoulders and turns me towards her. There is an intensity in her eyes that I have yet to know from her. “It’s time for you to fly away, Y/N, and I know how.”

A/N: I just want to say thank you to all those who welcomed me back after my impromptu hiatus. I love you all so much and to have had your support for nearly a year now is incredible!

If you would like to be tagged shoot me a message in my inbox or comment below. Please reblog if you guys enjoyed to let others know about the story.❤️❤️❤️❤️

Tag List

@jadepc / @paigeyisme / @unlikelygalaxygiver / @lubrielx / @why-am-I-here-again-shitheads / @meoodle / @nexitye / @akarah-sommah / @literally-just-for-fanfics / @lafayettes-baguettes-1 / @dizzy-izzy / @artofotherness / @georgiiamat / @asianromelle / @prancingdestiel / @bands-and-shietz / @the-fandom-ness / @anise-d-castle6 / @purplecactl / @mummy-woves-you / @saturn-aka-six / @alilblogger / @star-gaziing / @southsidespidey / @hansbrak / @jellybean-gg / @taegukgis

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baekiee · 6 years

Text

k-pop tag !

tagged by my best mutual @minseoksthighstrap ! (sorry it took so long to write it)

5 favourite groups:

i’m like,,,,,,very picky with groups to stan so exo, nct, 9% and kinda monsta x. it’s not even 5 because my heart is hard to get gdjksfnk but i support other groups sometimes

Ult bias group and why you like them:

exo ! because well i’ve been their fan for almost 5 years now and we’ve been through thick and thin together. from the moment kris left exo to numerous scandals, tears bc of music award ceremonies, comebacks, dark and light times in general and i don’t know, i’m just glued to this guys For Life. they’ve been part of me for a long time, they cured me w/ their songs and smiles, they were here when i felt like absolute shit. yes sounds cheesy but it’s my blog and i love them too much just for their existence, they’re like my second family now

nct ! long before i became a full time nctzen i LOVED their music from the very beginning. jESUs chRISt they killed me with sychronization of our dreams, then made a legendary debut with one of the best songs in korean pop industry?? and then their other bops?? they stole my heart with their music, incredible talent and cool concept then much later i fell in love with their sweetest personalities ever.

favourite kpop meme :

literally every meme with hyungwon in it, but the one where he’s sipping on his starbucks is Iconic™

favourite picture of your ult bias:

not to be dramatic have you ever. just stared at the person and realized how much you love them even after all those years and that your affection for them will never disappear

yes there are 3 photos even tho i had to post only one whatcha gonna do with that

5 favourite kpop music videos:

dean - bonnie & clyde sunmi - gashina nct u - boss taemin - move f(x) - red light

10 favourite kpop songs:

damn there are too much but here are some i remember

nct - cherry bomb, whiplash, dreaming; exo - growl, miracles in december, forever; sunmi - heroine; monsta x - jealousy; taeyang - eyes, nose, lips, girlfriend - navillera

favourite kpop crack video:

it makes me uwu and i never get bored of it

https://youtu.be/acWLBTs0Cb0

favourite content creators in the fandom:

exosexo, wthmel, cutie nini, nctology make best videos on youtube, just Tea

what fandoms would you say you’re an active part of ?

currently i’m really active as an nctzen and 9% stan but i try to keep up w/ exo as well,,,,, i swear when they have a comeback i will BLAST

Take your top 3 biases- fmk

i’m minor as well and i like this version with cuddle marry kill so i’ll do the same

so zhang yixing, zhu zhengting & i have a problem with picking biases in nct idk who to choose,,,, but let’s say lucas

100% marry yixing, we would live a happy life in china raising sheep on our farm lmao, cuddle zzt because he’s a cutie and kill lucas I’M SORRY XUXI I LOVE YOU there’re no right options, i want to like,,,, just scream with him

If you could be best friend with any idol, who would it be ?

ten? i feel like our personalities would match well, i love his music taste & we could watch cmbyn together and cry all night fdjhsh ugh can this be real please

Are you a soft or hard stan ?

more of a soft stan i guess but sometimes when wild ty appears in whiplash and baby don’t like it i can’t content my hoe self,,

an idol that makes you go into soft mode ?

bbh,,,, he’s my weakness,, jungwoo, mark, chenle

favourite vocalist ?

kyungsoo, haechan, renjun, kai (his voice is so unique)

favourite rapper ?

mark, ty, sik-k (does k hip-hop count??), chanyeol

favourite dancer ?

every time kai dances i have chills. yixing, taemin, ten

things you have in common with your ult ?

yixing: well we’re both cute GHSDGFH but actually i’m as chill as him and sometimes can get lost in my mind

ahhh as i’ve said before i’m not sure with biases in nct but there are two (2) ppl who make my heart whoosh whoosh more than others

lucas: yes i’m chill but also loud as xuxi?? you know how he said that with strangers he’s acting all intelligent and quiet and around friends he turns into a screaming mess. we’re extra

mark: sometimes i say nonsense like him lmao

the most beautiful trait an idol can have ?

talent and speaking up for themselves and topics they care about

songs that always make you jam along ?

nct dream - first and last, nct 127 - cherry bomb, exo - literally every song, got7 - all their titles, winner - everyday

your worst wrecker ?

bbh :::)))))) AND EVERY NCT MEMBER DAMN

any kpop concerts you have been to ?

no (be quiet don’t cry uhm)

favourite choreography ?

absolutely taemin - move, kai - i see you, yixing - sheep, nct 127 - cherry bomb, nct dream - go, shinee - sherlock

favourite live performance ?

shinee - a-yo. favourite for years, always make me cry&smile at the same time

favourite debut mv ?

nct u - 7th sense like,,,,,, best debut in the history of k-pop but can i also mention shinee - replay, exo - mama, f(x) - lachata bc of how cringy but at the same time good they are

recommend rookie group ?

the boyz? 시간이 안 지나가 makes me relate too much and they seem cool

a kpop song you could listen to everyday for the rest of your life ?

nct u - 7th sense, baby don’t like it, exo - sweet lies (BEST R’N’B OUT HERE)

@divanyanyan i know you’re into naruto now but if you want to do it then hi!!

#tags

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gold-from-straw · 7 years

Text

Hallows part 5

Here’s chapter 5 for my @gradencetrickortreat for @wouldieforherson. Chapter 6 will be almost entirely NSFW so I’m not going to post it directly here, just a link to my AO3 account, just heads up! Also, this chapter mentions gaslighting and past abuse, but the characters are shown/discussed breaking out of the situation, so I’m hoping it may feel more empowering than not? I hope you enjoy it!

Credence spent the first three days after Albus’ visit pacing around his living room, or his office, or the kitchen watched by Modesty and her raised fucking eyebrow. How was he supposed to even find Percival? He’d tried his phone number, but the old one no longer existed, and since Hallows had broken up it was like he’d disappeared.

Eventually his frustration settled into intermittent flares of excruciating embarrassment at the memory of every interaction he’d ever had with the man. He was able to function for a few minutes before he had to put his head down on the desk and groan or pull his hair out. There was a little part of him that was nudging him, telling him not to get his hopes up, that Percival Graves would always be the one who got away. He’d never get his chance again.

And then, a few weeks later, Newt knocked on his office door. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” he said, dumping a pile of proofs off the chair and onto the floor. “You’re the boss, boss.”

He did his awkward eye flickering thing and picked up a rubiks cube to fiddle with. Credence turned back to his computer. Newt was always more at ease if he didn’t have to make eye contact. He remembered worrying about him when he was still a teenager, wondering if his aversion to eye contact stemmed from the same sort of place as Credence’s bowed head and hunched shoulders. It had taken him months to draw up the courage to ask, and Newt had burst out in hysterical giggles and apologies, and explained that he’d just always been like that.

“Percival Graves is back in New York,” Newt blurted, and Credence’s fingers froze on the keyboard.

Newt looked up at him through his fringe. “He’s joined MACUSA.”

“That metal band with Seraphina Piquery?”

Newt nodded. “He sent me an email. He was extremely polite, as it happens. Said he wanted us to do some new studio shots for the publicity, but he said, and I quote, he understands entirely if we want to refuse.”

“What did you say?”

Newt smiled, freckles ripping into dimples on his cheeks. “I don’t know yet, I’m checking with my best human photographer first.”

Credence giggled, hysteria and possibility bubbling in a panicked swirl under his skin. “You make it sound like your pets take the rest of your photos.”

“I’ll have you know Dougal’s a wizard with composition.”

Credence bent over with undignified snorts, laughing way more than was warranted.

“So…do you want to see him again?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah…I have to. I owe him an apology, just…do you think I should be doing this while I’m meant to be taking his photos?”

Newt considered for a moment while Credence tried to quiet the screaming maelstrom of anxiety that was trying to tear holes in his skin. “Why don’t we book Percival in for the last session of the day,” suggested Newt. “That way you can take all the time you like and you won’t be cutting into anyone else’s session.”

“That could work.”

He nodded and flicked through the calendar on his phone. “How’s Friday?”

He glanced at his own organiser and laughed dryly. “Halloween?”

“Oh. Yes. So it is. Is that OK?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Kinda poetic, I guess.”

***

On the plus side, he only had four days to stress out about the shoot. The whole ‘seeing Percival again’ thing, on the other hand, was so large that it transcended stress and came out the other side. Four days had been plenty enough time for him to vibrate almost completely out of his skin.

And then Percival walked in, and all the air disappeared from Credence’s lungs, and for a moment he was fifteen again and terrified of everything, before he could snarl and snatch at the pieces of himself and stand tall again.

Percival’s eyes had flown wide and his jaw dropped when he saw Credence. “Hi, Percival,” he said, tucking a long curl behind his ear.

“Credence,” he breathed, then blinked several times and cleared his throat. “Oh, uh, is this OK? I didn’t think it would be you. I mean, I can come another time, I don’t want to make it awkward for you—“

“Percival, no, it’s fine. I actually requested this.”

“You did?”

He nodded. “Please sit?”

He did so, dark blue jeans creaking against the leather sofa. Credence sat on the other side, one knee bent up on the seat and his body turned to face him properly. Percival’s hands were pressed together between his knees like he was afraid of touching anything. Or making sure Credence knew he wasn’t going to touch anything.

Credence took a deep breath. “I saw Albus a month or so ago,” he began.

“Look, Credence, first I just have to say I owe you an apology. I knew I was crossing a line, and—“

“No, no, please,” he begged. “Oh God, please don’t apologise, you’ll just…I feel ashamed as it is.”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Credence, nothing. I took advantage of you.”

“Oh my God,” Credence groaned. “You really didn’t. You did the opposite, you stopped as soon as you noticed something was off and - fuck. OK. Just…” He took a deep breath and got his thoughts in order. Percival just sat quietly and frowned at him.

“We were played,” he said. “Both of us. I saw Albus, he said Gellert fucked both of us over.”

Percival glared at him for a few seconds, then closed his eyes and shook his head. “I guess I’m not actually surprised,” he grunted. “But how?”

“After you left my flat,” Credence said, now unable to look at him, “I got a message from Gellert. A picture of you in bed with someone else. The, uh, the caption said something like I was obviously sexually unsatisfying.”

“What?” Percival’s voice was a bass growl.

“I’m sorry, Percival, I shouldn’t—“

“I didn’t,” he snapped. “I wasn’t with anyone after you, not for fucking months. Over a year, Credence, I swear—“

“I know,” he wailed. “I know now, and I’m so, so sorry I didn’t have more faith in you, I just…I felt like such an idiot - such a tease for turning you down. I thought of course you’d have to find someone else. I told myself it was understandable, but I just…I couldn’t, I couldn’t go back there. And if I’d just been a little bit braver, or, or trusted you a bit more, we wouldn’t have spent two fucking years being angry and—“

He sobbed his next words into Percival’s shoulder as the man wrapped his arms around him, hushing and rocking like he’d done himself to Modesty when she woke screaming in those first few months.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, leaning back and rubbing the wet patch he’d left on Percival’s shirt.

Percival cupped his cheeks and wiped the tears off with his thumbs. He smiled sweetly and said “I’m going to fucking murder Grindelwald.”

Credence burst out laughing and sank back against the sofa. “Slowly and painfully?”

“No, the bastard would find some way of fucking with my head just before he died. So quickly and from a distance.”

“He really was a manipulative bastard.”

“You have no idea,” Percival growled. “Albus got the worst of it. Jesus, the way he treated him.”

“I can’t feel too sorry for Albus,” said Credence, his eyes narrowing. “All it would have taken was one word from him—“

“And Gellert would have known where it came from” he said softly. “He would have denied it back then, but Albus was scared of him. And scared of losing him.”

Credence snorted. “Come on, Gellert didn’t smack him about.”

Percival scrunched his face a little. “No, he was very rarely violent. But you of all people know there’s more to it than that.”

His back straightened and he could feel Tina and Modesty’s borrowed defiance flash in his eyes. “If a partner ever treated me like that I’d be out of there. How could he let Gellert make him feel so worthless?”

Percival opened and shut his mouth a few times, obviously thinking his words through very carefully. At last he took Credence’s hand and said “did you ever make excuses for your mother’s actions?”

His jaw dropped and shame flooded his system, because while it wasn’t the same, the situation was transferable. He slumped as he remembered how he’d internalised everything Ma said to him until that last time. How he’d blamed himself for every belt lash and prayed and prayed for forgiveness as the blood soaked his sheets. And no, he still couldn’t see what Albus must have been thinking when he let Gellert’s stupid prank stand for two fucking years, but maybe, maybe he could see how he’d got there.

“Oh, God,” he groaned, burying his face in both hands. “I’m such a hypocrite.”

Percival put his arm around his shoulders. “Nah, you’re just looking at things a little differently now.”

“Fuck, I was so mean to him, and his little sister just died, and—“

“Ariana died?” He sighed, his breath warm through the curls on Credence’s temple. “Shit. I knew she was bad. That’s why the band broke up, Gellert wouldn’t let him go to her. It was fucking tearing him apart.”

“What happened?”

He laughed mirthlessly. “I tried to get involved, tell Gellert he was being unreasonable. At first Albus was pissed at me, said it was none of my business. But then Gellert said something - it sounded innocuous to me, just like every other sentence that’s ever come out of his mouth. Something patronising and putting him down. Oh! I know, he said I sounded like Aberforth. Called him a little goat-fucker.”

“Pretty standard from Gellert.”

“Exactly, but Albus just turned round and punched him. Full in the face, broke his nose. I’ve never seen Gellert so fucking terrified in his life!” He grinned. “It was beautiful.”

Credence laughed and leaned his head into the side of Percival’s neck. “Go Albus.”

“How’s Modesty?” Percival asked, fingers starting to comb through his hair.

“Good,” he sighed, relaxing into his touch. “Tina’s sister Queen’s a kickass lawyer, she got Ma into an institution, and proved I could take care of Modesty. My other sister, Chastity, comes over regularly, too. It’s hard, but Mod’s in therapy and she’s screaming at me a lot less now. And she doesn’t flinch when I yell back at her, I think she prefers it. I dunno, she’s always been very different to me, she seems to seek out conflict.”

“Maybe it makes her feel braver. Or in control, because she gets to choose when people are yelling at her.”

“How did you get so wise?”

“I always have been,” he replied primly. “Why do you think I kept my mouth shut around Gellert Grindelwald so much?”

Credence laughed, then sighed as the self-recrimination hit him again. “I’m sorry I didn’t have more faith in you.”

He shrugged. “It’s understandable. That was the evidence you had at the time. I’m sorry I didn’t make more of an effort to contact you.”

“Why didn’t you?” he asked. “It must have seemed really sudden.”

“I texted you after we got the email from Newt.”

Credence winced. “Ah. I smashed my phone up. Not my best moment.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything though, would it? Anyway, I sort of came to the conclusion that I’d been coming on too strong the night before. Especially when you froze up.”

“I don’t even know what was wrong with me then,” he groaned, pressing his face furiously into Percival’s collarbone so he couldn’t see the blush.

“Hey, no, don’t say that.” Percival tilted his face up, a crooked finger under his chin. “You don’t have to have a reason. Not wanting something isthe reason.”

“But I did want it.”

“Some part of you didn’t.”

Credence pursed his lips and considered his serious brown eyes for a second, then swung his leg over Percival’s thighs so he was straddling him on the couch. “That part’s pretty damn on board right now,” he murmured, and kissed him.

#credence barebone #credence/graves #percival graves #fantastic beasts and where to find them #gradence trick or treat #my writing #origin of stories #Hallows

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