#I wish our stand was called Killer Queen

[conellu]

My Heart’s A Rabid Dog Trying To Put It’s Teeth In You

Yoshikage Kira x Reader

Briefly mentioned: Koichi/Reader (platonic), Rohan/Reader (platonic/romantic)

Canon Divergent AU

Soulmate AU

Also Posted Here

You didn't hate him, you couldn't hate him, he was your soulmate after all. Whatever you did to deserve such a vile soulmate in a past life, you decided, had to be absolutely despicable.

You hated him.

You hated him.

You hated him.

You repeated the sentence in your head over and over again as you watched him loom closer, eyes fixed sharp on you in a way that made you regrettably feel warm. You didn't hate him, you couldn't hate him, he was your soulmate after all. Whatever you did to deserve such a vile soulmate in a past life, you decided, had to be absolutely despicable. He wore a warm, faint smile as he gently grasped your hands and pressed a gentle kiss against your cheek. Your stomach erupted into butterflies despite your anger towards the gesture, face blushing as though you were kissed by someone who wasn't a monster.

He hummed as he collected the dishes, glasses, and silverware, content with his life while you sat in anger and disgust. Your body screamed at you to join him, to be as close to him as possible at all times, he was your soulmate after all. Your stand had made occasional appearances tonight, as per usual, as your soul did not care that the man you were fated to be with was a monster - someone who destroyed countless families and lives for his own selfish gain. Your stand mingled with Killer Queen, evaporating into nothing every time you got a hold of yourself.

You stared daggers into the back of his head as though by spite alone he would die and you could leave, no longer bonded to him. It would be a lonely life, your soul would call out for his until your own death, leaving you to cry and whine at night. But, you thought, that would be a more tolerable life than the one you were living now. Unfortunately, soulmates could not hurt each other. This was the only reason Yoshikage Kira had let you live. Part of you wishes he coduld have killed you, wishes he made your body explode. Maybe you could join Reimi after your death and you could help again, you could fulfill what you wanted to do before meeting his eyes.  You could apologize to her and everyone that you got stuck with the one soulmate you wished you never had.

"Now, now dear..." He started, tone edging on parental as though you were just a child and he had to chastise you. "I made sure our dinner was your favorite. Are you upset because I am to find a new girlfriend tonight?" His stupid smirk was audible, fueling your disgust and hatred for the man. "Are you jealous?" He asked, turning towards you.  he leaned against the sink as he took in your facial expressions, revealing nothing but spite and hatred for him.  He supposed it couldn’t be helped, after all you did have to witness Sheer Heart Attack render Jotaro nearly dead (you thought at the time he was dead, Kira correcting you during one of your many breakdowns) and him repeatedly slam Koichi’s head into the ground.  Even though that had been a couple months ago by now and he had made his own progress as accepting you as his fated one.

The sudden eye contact made your heart skip a beat, regardless of your own hate for the man your soul ached for him. Of course you were jealous, deep within you, you craved to be his only. The feeling made you sick to your stomach and he knew it. He knew that despite your utter, deep hatred for him that you loved him.  Despite him being a prick, seeming to get enjoyment out of toying with you, he didn’t enjoy the sitation at hand. You didn't have a choice and, to be frank, neither did he.

He wasn't extremely pleased with the situation either, anxiety and anger had pooled in him soon after he met your eyes. His world burst into color and he knew he was screwed. Soulmates cannot hurt each other, so he was unable to use Killer Queen on you. Even the idea made him feel upset, despite his initial want to make your existence disappear. Living each and every day with an empty pit in his stomach, his being calling out for you in a pitiful attempt to bring you back, did not sound very pleasing to him. In spite of it all, his anxiety and anger disappeared rather smoothly. When he strung you along to his house, your body light in his arms, he assessed the situation fully. He was, in a perverted way, living the life that many wanted. Few people connected with their soulmates at his age, not to say that 33 was old but most of his peers had long since met theirs well before their 30s.  He had gave up hope around the time he hit 27 of finding his soulmate, perhaps he already killed them before realizing what he had done or they died in some other situation. But to meet your soulmate and immediately be able to live with them?  That was unheard of, regardless of the draw that two fated lovers feel towards each other there were common practices they would have to go through before living together typically.

Life at home was a sadistic imitation of a domestic life, you stayed in the house and made sure everything was clean, put away, and ready for him while he worked. He would come home to a clean house and to you, his dear soulmate. He would give you a kiss on the cheek before going to work and upon coming home, your stands would greet each other as though they had been apart for longer than a few hours. You would ask him how work was, inform him of what was for dinner (unless, of course, he had to get a new girlfriend, then he would fix dinner for you), and sit in relative silence until bedtime. Your nighttime routines entangled each other with ease, of course you didn't have much to do given the fact you were away from home and your belongings so you had little choice but to bend to his routine. While you two did sleep in the same bed, you curled up under your own set of blankets as far away from him as possible. Without fail, you would wake up clutching onto him and before you were able to process that you were, in fact, disgusted with your soulmate you would nuzzle into his neck and inhale his scent, smile against him and plant soft, barely there kisses. To be honest, the mornings had become Kira's favorite time of day rather quickly. Before he knew it, he considered it part of his routine and looked forward to it subconsciously. Before he could reciprocate, or even tighten his arms around your form in a burst of extreme pleasure to his soul, you would yank yourself away and get up, starting on the day's routine as he lay and watch you for a few seconds.

You also were not a bad sight, before your eyes connected he had thought your form was cute, even if you were just a roadblock in his way, though he had since chalked this up to his soul knowing you were fated to be before he knew it. Your hands were nothing amazing, had it not been for you two being fated he likely would not have gave them a second glace. Overall, Kira thought as he observed your cheeks start to darken with a blush at the eye contact and softening of his feature, it was as close to a perfect, quiet life he had ever experienced and he was certain that soon enough you would stop. You would give into what you soul craved, you would accept that you and him were fated to be together, fated to protect each other and take care of one another. You would, in time, complete the final step to his ideal quiet life, giving in to your urge to dote on him.  It was not simple wishful thinking on his part, nor was it delusion.  Soulmates would always end up warming up to each other if there was any animosity, there were a few books released by couples who experienced a hard time accepting each other at first before they realized there was no use in fighting fate.

"As if," you said, looking away from the man. You could feel your cheeks burn bright as his expression softening as he looked at you, the urge to stand up and peck his cheek and smile at him nearly winning you over. "You disgust me, Yoshikage Kira." Your eyes focused on a flower pot as you chewed at your bottom lip, you could feel him still staring at you and it made your cheeks burn even hotter as embarrassment flooded over you.  You were certain he loved toying with you more than he loved nearly anything else.  It would be a lie to say that hearing his full name grace your lips didn't start a fire in him, a mix of arousal and anger burying itself deep within him. Your whines for him, whimpers of his name, replayed in his head without a second thought.

You two have had sex before, of course you had. You were soulmates, after all, and in close proximity often enough that sometimes you had to satiate yourself. It would never take long for either of you to cum, your fingers lazily in his mouth as he pounded into you with a grip on your throat. You would clinch around him soon after he would slip in, your slick pooling in your panties before he so much as got near you and either of you even initiated sex. His orgasm would come soon after, suckling and licking at your digits in his mouth while your other hand lay against his cheek in a show of absolute affection, absolute adoration. After having sex you would cry, he would leave the room to take a shower as your sat on the bed in disbelief at yourself. Sometimes you would throw up, so disgusted with yourself that you would be late getting into bed. Kira didn't reprimand you on those nights for straying from routine, allowing you to have time to yourself to digest what you did, things you said, your soft touches against his skin as though you loved him as much as you would proclaim at the height of your orgasm. Sometimes he would fall asleep before you returned, other times he would lay awake and wait on you despite his best efforts to fall asleep. You would come to bed, shaky and exhausted, falling asleep soon after pulling your blankets tight around you as though you would disappear if you could squeeze them around you right enough. The sight was enough to make his chest clinch even before he had fully accepted your combined fate, his body demanding that he comfort your sleeping form in some way. He would sigh and throw an arm over you, pulling you closer to him and burying his nose against your hair.  The first time he did this, it felt as though his body was acting on its own accord as he thought your behavior was annoying, but after he felt you relax against him in your sleep he did not want to let go.  His body wanted to protect you from whatever it was that was causing you distress even when that thing was him.

You would think about they would think, what would they say. You could see their faces clearly, disgusted with you. You could practically head their exclamations of disgust, of hatred, of betrayal towards you. Not just for being so foolish as to allow Kira Yoshikage to be so close to you, not just for you being too pathetic to get help (not that you could, your entire being was dedicated to keeping him safe and his being was dedicated to keeping you safe.  You had, on multiple occasions, picked up the phone to call someone to beg them to help you but you could not make your fingers move to dial), but for saying that you love him. That you love the monster that took away so many lives before you, that continued to take away lives as you lived together, that took away Reimi's life. You would sit hunched over a trash can while Kira took a shower and throw up until your throat burnt. If he exited the shower before you were finished admonishing yourself for a sin you were fated to commit, you would hurry behind him into the bathroom, head down and eyes filled with tears that dropped to the floor below you. You would stare at yourself in the mirror until you could no longer recognize your reflection as a face and saw it as just a collection of mishpas, misdeeds, mistakes that lead you to having Yoshikage as a soulmate. You would apologize out loud to your friends, beg their forgiveness and plead with them. You knew they couldn't hear you, of course, you knew the only being that could hear you besides yourself was Yoshikage who was sitting on the bed, warm glass of milk in hand and stealing glances towards the bathroom. He wouldn't say anything, what could he say that you didn't already tell yourself.  Speaking up in this moment would likely result in you becoming even more broken as your inner battle to run to him, to accept his words and touches, would be even harder.  Despite his own distain for the situation intially, he had grown to enjoy it when it was running more smoothly.

"Is that so, my dear?" Kira spoke lowly, taking his place back at the table across from you. You couldn't bare to look at him, knowing that if he held the same soft expression so close to you that you might slip up, you might allow yourself to indulge in the smallest affection toward the man.

Truthfully, you hadn't found the man unattractive physically. He was conventionally attractive, his voice like honey in your ears when he first talk before the battle began which caused an automatic shiver to run up your spine (which was, thankfully, undetected by the frantic Koichi because you couldn't dare have him even slightly pick up on the slight waver that graced your stance before you turned to face Yoshikage). Had he been someone different you would have unabashedly ask him to talk about anything and everything, his voice swimming around you and bringing you comfort despite the venomous words he spouted towards your short friend.

The memory of your eyes meeting kept you up some nights, still feeling like some unending nightmare. You watched as Koichi was beat within a centimeter of his life, stand unable to effect the adult man as he pummeled your younger friend. The scent of blood barraged your nose as you cried out, begging Koichi to get up, begging Kira to stop, begging Jotaro to get up, begging for anything to change. When he directed his eyes towards you snarling at your whimpering and whining and crying, time felt as though it stood still. The world exploded with color and your mouth was slightly agape as your eyes widened. His face changed in a similar way, snarl disapating into a confused stare with eyes staying transfixed on yours. You shook your head no in absolute disbelief, this had to be a nightmare. You were frozen with fear as he came closer to you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and a sharp frown. Were you going to die? Have the shit beat out of you? Were you going to explode as Shigekiyo had? Could he even hurt you? You had heard that soulmates are supposed to protect each other, but as Killer Queen loomed over his shoulder- it's eyes boring holes into your own stand, you thought that maybe that was just some lie. You should have ran, should have ran and ran and ran away until you found Josuke and Okuyasu, telling them the grim reality of everything that just transpired. But you stayed, as still as a mouse that had gave up a chase. His hand gripped your arm forcefully, right enough for you to whimper and draw your eyes away from his, down to your arm. He jerked you up easily, your legs automatically straighting to catch yourself from stumbling. You didn't say anything and neither did he as you both seemed to consider your next move, to consider each other's next move. He moved with you roughly before you could pull away, dragging you from the sight with an angry sigh and slight glance down at you. "I can't hurt you," he said angerly, "so you have to come with me."

His words made your brain go into overdrive, suddenly all to aware of what he meant, of his grasp on you, of the fact you were fated to be together. You yanked away from him, breath shaky as you tried to fight back the urge to cry and scream and collapse into an anxiety attack. He had his blood, Koichi's, on him. A fact that made your actions even more feverish in an attempt to break away from his grasp. "No." You said, barely above a whisper. No to what exactly, you were not sure. No to the entire situation was what you decided on upon replaying the memory in your head. No to Jotaro seemingly dead, no to seeing your friend being beat and left in a heap on the ground, no to realizing how bad your soul wanted to grab onto Kira and wanted to never let go, no to realizing that you failed and that you could never win. Even if you had been separated, your body would know rest until you gave in. Even if Josuke and Okuyasu had got there before that you would have betrayed them without intending to.  Your stand would have made its life goal to protect your fated lover, acting without your input and acting purely on what your soul wanted.

His grasp didn't falter as he walked with you, eyes going between the road ahead and down at your form. Your head was down, tears threatening to spill over as your hand that wasn't connected to the arm he had a grasp on grabbed tightly onto your shirt. Your knuckles ached with how tight you grasped your fabric, but you couldnt let it go, knowing that if you did your hand would reach out and over to him. He led you to his house without too much of a fight on your end, your stand would disobey any command that you struggled out through quivering lips and your body so tired with today's events.  To say annoyance radiated off of his body would have been an understatement, he was furious at how today went.

You mind raced as you realized you wouldnt be going home, you wouldn’t be allowed the pleasure of gathering your belongings.  You couldn’t collect the many photograpghs that adorned your wall of your friends.  You had considered Rohan your unofficial soulmate, a title he sneered at but appreciated all the same, despite his demeanor towards you, you two connected on a level you hadn't done with anyone before. You never sent a title on what you were, if you were anything more than just friends or something more, but you enjoyed his company (and he would never admit but he felt the same). But the heat that rushed towards your face, butterflies that blew up in your stomach, and the urges you felt towards to serial killer of Morioh blew it out of the water as soon as your eyes met again as he led you into his house and sat at the table.  This was the first time throw up raced towards your throat, you felt like a lovesick puppy just in his presence and he viseably relaxed despite the thoughts racing through his head.

He hated to admit it and would never vocalize it out loud, even after he came to terms with his fated life partner, but in that moment he wanted to kiss you. His soul ached to cradle you as your blood shot eyes looked up at him, despite knowing that he himself was the cause for your distress. Finding your soulmate is supposed to be a joyous occasion, both sides experiencing intense euphoria and elation at the feeling but both of you were experiencing none of that. You looked younger than him, you had to be younger than him of course if you were so close to Koichi that you cried for him as though he was your own brother.  He would later ask how old you are, a question you answered while finishing dinner one night after he had a shift at work.  He didn’t understand why he would have you as a soulmate, but with the day he was having before your eyes met, he wasn’t shocked that one of the bratty sleuthers was his beloved.

Kira jars you out of your memories with a "hm?" as he reaches across the table to gently hold your hands. He holds them as they you are a porcelain doll and will shatter, rubbing his thumbs ever so softly across your knuckles. For a second your body relaxed, your soul at ease at your fated lover's affection, you nearly smiled before you pulled them away.  He held a small grin on his face, today had been the most you’ve let your facade drop and he figured it wouldn’t be long until you couldn’t muster it anymore.  You would greet him happily at the door instead of looking away, a genuine interest in how his day went (though nearly every day was the exact same, you would be excited to hear regardless), you would allow yourself to touch him, your soft hands caressing his face so lovingly.

"Yes." You say, arms now folded across your chest as you tried to stare him down. The action doesn't phase him and it doesn't work on your end, the eye contact making you feel a mix of emotions. He stands up and you rise from your seat as well following him as he goes to the door, an action you do of your own accord. You look up at him, breath getting stuck in your throat as you realize he's leaving and will be coming back with a pair of dismembered hands and he'll keep them until they start to stink. You tell yourself this is why you hate it when he leaves on nights like this and not that it's because you will miss his presence. He leans down, pressing a kiss against your lips and holds your shoulders as he looks at you. For a moment, your facade drops. Your hands hold his face so gently, so sweetly, so perfectly that has he not required a new girlfriend he would have leaned into greedily, taking advantage of your mask falling off. Your eyes soften and you press your own chaste kiss against his lips.  Your eyes widen just like they did the first time you made eye contact with him, shocked at your own movements as though they were controlled.

"I love you," he says, pulling away from your touch, "I'll be back before bedtime." And he opens the door and leaves before you could respond with anything. Your fingers gently touch your lips as you watch him leave.  You know you should go get a shower, but you cannot move.  His shadowy figure disappears as he goes on the prowl for a new victim leaving you fully alone with your thoughts.  You forced your legs to move to the bathroom, trying to focus on one thought at a time but it was impossible.  Your thought swarmed with him, with your kiss, with how placid his appearance looked as your thumb caressed his cheek despite what he intended to do after he left, with anger and disgust towards yourself and towards him.  

#my writing #jjba x reader #x reader #kira yoshikage x reader #kira yoshikage #yoshikage kira #diamond is unbreakable #jjba part 4 #part 4 #oneshot #probably ooc but started as self indulgent smut so its fine #will be a series eventually #Kira's my secondary f/o but he lends so much better to my self indulgent fics than doppio #reader is between koichi and Kira's age i put her as 23 in my head cause thats my age lol #which is an age gap ig but also the kind i seek out irl soooooooooo

[marichive]

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 : 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Writing / roleplay prompts collected from the POV chapters of Catelyn Tully / Stark in A Clash of Kings , the second book of the ASOIAF saga. Feel free to adjust pronouns / etc. as needed.

tw: dark & mature themes, death, violence, suggestive / sexual content

❝ The ancient crown of the Kings of Winter had been lost three centuries ago. ❞

❝ It is no easy thing to wear a crown. ❞

❝ Kneel before the king. ❞

❝ He is not a bold man, this one. ❞

❝ I brought you from our cell to carry my message to your cousin. ❞

❝ I should be most glad to bring your message to the queen. ❞

❝ Understand, I am not giving you your freedom. ❞

❝ You chose to fight beneath a foe’s banner. ❞

❝ I want your pledge, on your honor as a knight. ❞

❝ I do so vow. ❞

❝ Every man in this hall has heard you. ❞

❝ I will do as I pledged. ❞

❝ What is this message? ❞

❝ An offer of peace. Meet my terms, and I will sheath this sword, and make an end to the war between us. ❞

❝ Living men had gone south, and cold bones would return. ❞

❝ He had the truth of it. ❞

❝ He will remain my hostage for his father’s good behavior. ❞

❝ Henceforth, we are no part of their realm, but a free and independent kingdom, as of old. ❞

❝ These are the terms. If she meets them, I’ll give her peace. ❞

❝ Did you see the look on his face? ❞

❝ Take this back to my bedchamber. ❞

❝ I wager there were others who felt the same. ❞

❝ How can we talk of peace while they spread like pestilence over my father’s domains, stealing his crops and slaughtering his people? ❞

❝ We lack the strength. ❞

❝ Do we grow stronger sitting here? ❞

❝ You cannot ask them to remain idle while their fields are being pillaged and their people put to the sword. ❞

❝ It would be an ill thing if he were to leave us. ❞

❝ He lost sons. Who can blame him if he does not want to make peace with their killers? ❞

❝ More bloodshed will not bring your father back to us. ❞

❝ An offer had to be made. ❞

❝ I can’t release him, not even if I wanted to. My lords would never abide it. ❞

❝ Your lords made your their king. ❞

❝ If your crown is the price we must pay to have them returned safe, we should pay it willingly. ❞

❝ Was it war that made you grow so fast, or the crown they put on your head? ❞

❝ The boy has the right of this. ❞

❝ Don’t call me ‘the boy’. I am a man grown, and your king. ❞

❝ That was unworthy of me. ❞

❝ Gods be good, what has become of me? ❞

❝ He is doing his best, trying so hard, I know it, I see it, and yet . . . ❞

❝ I have lost him, the rock my life was built on. ❞

❝ I could not bear to lose them as well. ❞

❝ I’ll do all that I can for them. ❞

❝ If she has any sense, she’ll accept my terms. ❞

❝ I’ll make her rue the day she refused me. ❞

❝ Kings are not supposed to have mothers, it would seem. ❞

❝ I could command you to go. As king. I could. ❞

❝ He’s been a hostage half his life. ❞

❝ He is not a man to be trusted. ❞

❝ Does he know you have returned? ❞

❝ You will want to hear my tidings in private first. ❞

❝ You have her face. I can see it in your cheekbones, and your jaw. ❞

❝ You remember more of her than I do. ❞

❝ I wish I had their faith. ❞

❝ That’s blood up there, smeared across the sky. ❞

❝ Was there ever a war where only one side bled? ❞

❝ When he hears this, he will rage. ❞

❝ Even terror has its purpose. ❞

❝ He would like to fight on a field of his own choosing. ❞

❝ He’ll want something. ❞

❝ I want to weep. I want to be comforted. I am so tired of being strong. ❞

❝ I want to be foolish and frightened for once. Just for a small while. ❞

❝ No one has ever died of restlessness, but rashness is another matter. ❞

❝ You are all your lord father claimed you were. ❞

❝ As champion, you may ask of me any boon that you desire. ❞

❝ If it lies in my power, it is yours. ❞

❝ My life for yours, Your Grace. From this day on, I am your shield, I swear it by the old gods and the new. ❞

❝ If you wish, we may stand here in the mud and debate what honors and titles are rightly due to each, but it strikes me that we have more pressing matters to consider. ❞

❝ My lady, when you are rested, I would be honored if you would share our meat and mead at the feast tonight. ❞

❝ What is mine is yours. ❞

❝ My sweet queen is all the woman I desire. ❞

❝ Can you drown in grief? ❞

❝ They are boys drunk on song and story, and like all boys, they think themselves immortal. ❞

❝ They’re young and strong, full of life and laughter. ❞

❝ And lust, aye, more lust than they know what to do with. There will be many a bastard bred this night, I promise you. ❞

❝ They are the knights of summer, and winter is coming. ❞

❝ In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining. ❞

❝ I feel the need of some air. Will you walk with me? ❞

❝ He would make an appalling king. Nor is he like to become one. ❞

❝ Men respect him, even fear him, but precious few have ever loved him. ❞

❝ I mean to be king, my lady, and not of a broken kingdom. ❞

❝ We are the first. ❞

❝ Gods grant that I shall do the same. ❞

❝ This is no fight of ours. ❞

❝ I know the king would not wish his mother to put herself at risk. ❞

❝ We are all at risk. ❞

❝ Do you think I wish to be here? ❞

❝ He sent me to speak for him, and speak for him I shall. ❞

❝ It is a sort of game kings play. ❞

❝ I had not thought to find you here. ❞

❝ I am sorry for your lord’s death, though he was no friend to me. ❞

❝ He was never your enemy. ❞

❝ He did his duty, I will not deny it. Did I ever do less? ❞

❝ Yet he took it. That which should have been mine. ❞

❝ How they love to promise heads, these men who would be king. ❞

❝ Men give their allegiance where they will. ❞

❝ I only want what is mine by rights. ❞

❝ We share a common foe who would destroy us all. ❞

❝ The whole of the realm denies it. Old men deny it with their death rattle, and unborn children deny it in their mothers’ wombs. They deny it in Dorne and they deny it on the Wall. No one wants you for their king. ❞

❝ I swore I would never treat with you while you wore your traitor’s crown. ❞

❝ Younger, bolder, and far more comely. ❞

❝ We are all traitors, however good our reasons. ❞

❝ I fear she never saw your little letter. ❞

❝ They are bastards. ❞

❝ Isn’t that a sweet story, my lady? ❞

❝ I must say, it took my breath away. ❞

❝ Do you name me a liar? ❞

❝ If you step in a nest of snakes, does it matter which one bites you first? ❞

❝ You’ve never tasted anything so sweet, I promise you. ❞

❝ I did not come here to eat fruit. ❞

❝ A man should never refuse to taste a peach. ❞

❝ I did not come here to be threatened, either. ❞

❝ When I make threats, you’ll know it. ❞

❝ You’ll be pleased to know she came to me a maid. ❞

❝ Oh, I expect I’ll get a son on her within the year. ❞

❝ How many sons do you have? Oh, yes – none. ❞

❝ If my wife looked like yours, I’d send my fool to service her as well. ❞

❝ Enough! I will not be mocked to my face, do you hear me? I will not! ❞

❝ I hope your new god’s a merciful one. ❞

❝ It grieves me that it must come to this. ❞

❝ You have a cheerful way of grieving. ❞

❝ You must allow a king some flaws, my lady. ❞

❝ I had hoped to help you make peace. I will not help you make war. ❞

❝ She loves him, poor thing. ❞

❝ She’d play his squire just to touch him, and never care how great a fool they think her. ❞

❝ Stay and help me pray. It’s been so long I’ve quite forgotten how. ❞

❝ Did your old gods ever answer you? When you knelt before your heart tree, did you hear them? ❞

❝ When they took his head off, they killed me too. ❞

❝ Death came in that door and blew the life out of him as swift as the wind snuffed out his candles. ❞

❝ Are you blind? The girl loved him. ❞

❝ Some say that after the battle, the king cut out Stafford Lannister’s heart and fed it to the wolf. ❞

❝ I would not believe such tales. He is no savage. ❞

❝ That is no common wolf, that one. ❞

❝ The gods don’t care about men, no more than kings care about peasants. ❞

❝ A good king does care. ❞

❝ Only a mother would keep her children safe, however she could. ❞

❝ I am not made to be a mother. I need to fight. ❞

❝ I could serve you. If you would have me. ❞

❝ You could have let them kill me. I was nothing to you. ❞

❝ When the time comes, I will not hold you back. ❞

❝ I am yours, my lady. Your liege man, or … whatever you would have me be. I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours, if need be. I swear it by the old gods and the new. ❞

❝ I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table, and pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonor. I swear it by the old gods and the new. ❞

❝ He asked for you. I did not know what to tell him. ❞

❝ He risks all for a baseborn boy whose blood is not even his own. ❞

❝ He has made common cause with a power greater and darker. ❞

❝ Have you forgiven me? ❞

❝ You’ve done nothing that needs forgiveness. ❞

❝ He loves you fiercely. Believe that. ❞

❝ I gave him my favor to wear. ❞

❝ I gave my maidenhood to this solemn stranger and sent him off to his war and his king and the woman who bore him his bastard, because I always did my duty. ❞

❝ Why do boys so love to play at war? ❞

❝ Knights die in battle, as ladies die in childbed. No one sings songs about them. ❞

❝ Children are a battle of a different sort. A battle without banners or warhorns, but no less fierce. ❞

❝ At times I feel as though I am being torn apart. ❞

❝ And who will keep you safe, my lady? ❞

❝ Someday you must sing for me. ❞

❝ If we are winning, why am I so afraid? ❞

❝ I am a creature of grief and dust and bitter longings. There is an empty place within me where my heart was once. ❞

❝ I only thought you might enjoy happier company than mine. ❞

❝ Will holding it secret in your heart make it any less true? ❞

❝ What god would let this happen? He was only a baby! How could he deserve such a death? ❞

❝ Ice can kill as dead as fire. ❞

❝ The Starks do not use headsmen. They always said that the man who passes the sentence should swing the blade. ❞

❝ I will not sleep away my grief. ❞

❝ I fear I am in no condition to receive you. ❞

❝ Look at me, ser. ❞

❝ I see you had no taste for the wine I sent you. ❞

❝ I can have your head off anytime I want. Why would I need to poison you? ❞

❝ We granted you the comfort of a tower cell befitting your birth and station. You repaid us by trying to escape. ❞

❝ A cell is a cell. ❞

❝ No? Then surely it was to have your pleasure of me. It’s said that widows grow weary of their empty beds. ❞

❝ I suppose I could still service you if that’s what you need. Pour us some of that wine and slip out of that gown and we’ll see if I’m up to it. ❞

❝ Was there ever a man as beautiful or as vile as this one? ❞

❝ If you said that in my son’s hearing, he would kill you for it. ❞

❝ Why should I tell you anything. ❞

❝ You think I fear death? ❞

❝ Your crimes will have earned you a place of torment in the deepest of the seven hells, if the gods are just. ❞

❝ If there are gods, why is the world so full of pain and injustice? ❞

❝ There are no men like me. There’s only me. ❞

❝ There is nothing here but arrogance and pride, and the empty courage of a madman. ❞

❝ If there was ever a spark of honor in him, it is long dead. ❞

❝ Stay, and you shall have your answers . . . for a price. ❞

❝ Answer my questions and I’ll answer yours. ❞

❝ People often claim to hunger for truth, but seldom like the taste when it’s served up. ❞

❝ I am strong enough to hear anything you care to say. ❞

❝ You would never ask that unless you knew the answer. ❞

❝ I want it from your own lips. ❞

❝ He is mine. ❞

❝ You admit to being her lover? ❞

❝ Do all my kin still live? ❞

❝ You were a knight, sworn to defend the weak and innocent. ❞

❝ He was spying on us. ❞

❝ You meant for him to die. ❞

❝ I seldom fling children from towers to improve their health. Yes, I meant for him to die. ❞

❝ You swear you had no part in sending him? ❞

❝ I may indeed have shit for honor, I won’t deny it, but I have never yet hired anyone to do my killing. ❞

❝ Are you trying to deceive me? ❞

❝ Believe what you will, I’m past caring what people say of me. ❞

❝ Your boy must be feeling lonely. ❞

❝ How can you still count yourself a knight, when you have forsaken every vow you ever swore? ❞

❝ So many vows … they make you swear and swear. It’s too much. No matter what you do, you’re forsaking one vow or the other. ❞

❝ Only a man like you would be proud of such an act. ❞

❝ We made a bargain, I can deny you nothing. ❞

❝ I do not want to know this. ❞

❝ I think it passing odd that I am loved by one for a kindness I never did, and reviled by so many for my finest act. ❞

❝ Come, don’t you find this all terribly amusing? ❞

❝ That name again. I don’t think I’ll fuck you after all, he had you first, didn’t he? I never eat off another man’s trencher. ❞

❝ Give me your sword. ❞

#rp memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #roleplay memes #inbox memes #rp prompt #[memes ; mine] #[memes ; for muse] #[memes ; general] #[memes ; sentence] #[memes ; literature]

[acotars]

books read in 2023

january

sweep in peace by ilona andrews

one fell sweep by ilona andrews

a court of mist and fury by sarah j. maas

sweep of the blade by ilona andrews

sweep with me by ilona andrews

my best friend’s exorcism by grady hendrix

kiss her once for me by alison cochrun

the seven husbands of evelyn hugo by taylor jenkins reid

i’m glad my mom died by jennette mccurdy

love and other words by christina lauren

sweep of the heart by ilona andrews

the only living girl on earth by charles yu

witches get stuff done by molly harper

you had me at hola by alexis daria

her vigilante by lillian lark

inconvenient daughter by lauren j. sharkey

anon pls. by deuxmoi

you are eating an orange. you are naked. by sheung-king

legends & lattes by travis baldree

bad vibes only (and other things i bring to the table) by nora mcinerny

signs of cupidity by raven kennedy

bonds of cupidity by raven kennedy

crimes of cupidity by raven kennedy

read: 23

february

exciting times by naoise dolan

sweethand by n.g. peltier

you made a fool of death with your beauty by akwaeke emezi

something wilder by christina lauren

highly suspicious and unfairly cute by talia hibbert

you deserve each other by sarah hogle

this is how you lose the time war by amal el-mohtar and max goldstone

would you rather by allison ashley

read: 8

march

meet me in the margins by melissa ferguson

king of battle and blood by scarlett st. clair

the exotic by hampton sides

river of shadows by karina halle

alone with you in the ether by olivie blake

lovelight farms by b.k. borison

the soulmate equation by christina lauren

before i let go by kennedy ryan

haunting adeline by h.d. carlson

the lies i tell by julie clark

one jump at a time by nathan chen

our wives under the sea by julia armfield

all systems red (the murderbot diaries #1) by martha wells

before the coffee gets cold by toshikazu kawaguchi

read: 14

april

funny you should ask by elissa sussman

make a scene by mimi grace

sweeter than chocolate by lizzie shane

the kiss quotient by helen hoang

my favorite half-night stand by christina lauren

romantic comedy by curtis sittenfeld

icebreaker by a.l. graziadei

the wedding proposal by john swansiger

circling back to you by julie tieu

by the book by amanda sellet

a lady’s guide to mischief and mayhem by manda collins

love in the time of serial killers by alicia thompson

if the shoe fits by julie murphy

whispers of you by catherine cowles

the kiss curse by erin sterling

by the book by jasmine guillory

honey & spice by bolu babalola

one night on the island by josie silver

the bodyguard by katherine center

the reunion by kayla olson

the neighbor favor by kristina forest

crooked kingdom by leigh bardugo

do i know you? by emily wibberley & austin siegemund-broka

just my type by falon ballard

delilah green doesn’t care by ashley herring blake

happy place by emily henry

dating dr. dil by nisha sharma

icebreaker by hannah grace

count your lucky stars by alexandria bellefleur

stone cold fox by rachel koller croft 

fake it till you bake it by jamie wesley

read: 31

may

the dead romantics

motherthing by ainslie hogarth

the woman in the library by sulari gentill

artificial condition (the murderbot diaries #2) by martha wells

the last word by taylor adams

you shouldn’t have come here by jeneva rose

read: 6

june

fourth wing (the empyrean #1) by rebecca yarros

the very secret society of irregular witches by sangu mandanna

love, theoretically by ali hazelwood

read: 3

july

the traitor queen (the bridge kingdom #2) by danielle l. jensen

the beast by katee robert

baldur's gate: descent into avernus by by james introcaso et. al

forget me not by julie soto

the wishing game by meg shaffer

read: 5

august

the true love experiment by christina lauren

pachinko by min jin lee

almond by sohn won-pyung, translated by joosun lee

hook, line, and sinker by tessa bailey

read: 4

september

hey, u up? (for a serious relationship): how to turn your booty call into your emergency contact by emily axford & brian murphy

everyone knows your mother is a witch by rivka galchen

fangs by sarah andersen

a room with a view by e.m. forster

juniper bean resorts to murder by gracie ruth mitchell

one's company by ashley hutson

the mysterious affair at styles by agatha christie

solita: a gothic romance by vivien rainn

you, again by kate goldbeck

the undertaking of hart and mercy by megan bannen

my roommate is a vampire by jenna levine

the picture of dorian gray by oscar wilde

the vampires of el norte by isabel cañas

her body and other parties by carmen maria machado

evil eye by etaf rum

the seven year slip by ashley poston

read: 17

october

keeper of enchanted rooms by charlie n. holmberg

the serpent and the wings of night by carissa broadbent

shy by max porter

down comes the night by allison saft

the unfortunate side effects of heartbreak and magic by breanne randall

the hurricane wars by thea guanzon

read: 6

november

a witch's guide to fake dating a demon by sarah hawley

the wake-up call by beth o'leary

when in rome by sarah adams

the view was exhausting by mikaella clements and onjuli datta

hello stranger by katherine center

practice makes perfect by sarah adams

do your worst by rosie danan

read: 7

december

bookshops & bonedust by travis baldree

the fake mate by lana ferguson

read: 2

final count: 127/100

#kate’s reading log #read in 2023* #a little late but i wanted to get this up here !! #i’ll update as i go so if you don’t want to see this just blacklist kate’s reading log :) #we hit character limit so i had to reformat lol

[runningwithfangs]

Vampire Chronicles Book Review/Rant #3

The Queen of the Dammed

Wowowow congratulations to the world’s worst polycule on saving Vampirekind. 

Another super fun romp where so much happens, yes there is nonsense, but the nonsense is nicely paired with a lot of intense drama and high stakes. I like how Anne got around her own premise that the vampires are writing their life stories by it still being Lestat who writes it, but he’s gathered all this information from the other vampires that were actually there, even when he was not. 

The chapters being mini-stories and the many characters we meet, everything coming together in the end, it’s not just fun but so immersive. Anne doesn’t hold back in expanding her universe. At no point does it feel like too much too soon, or like the universe and characters are expanding faster than the story or getting out of hand. Anne is a fantastic writer.

In this book we start to see the world outside of our main vamps, the fledglings (Killer and the Fang Gang 🤯), the vampire bars, the Talamasca, the vampire cult followers, and so many new characters! 

Feminist Icon Akasha (is trying to kill most men). See kids, that’s what happens when you watch TV for 50 years straight.

This is one of my favorite books from the series, maybe one of my favorite books ever. 

Favorites:

It’s hard to pick! Jesse’s story is great, the dreamlike drunken nights at Maharet’s house with the vampires asking her about chocolate, the Great Family and the care and love Maharet has for them, her records and her family tree of lights, the attention and advice she gives them all, it’s just so sweet.

Devil’s Minion! I’ve been seeing fan art and posts about Armand/Daniel since I started this blog and did not get it until I read this. Now I GET IT, holy shit, it's chewing-through-drywall material. The horror of Daniel running for his life, being hunted, then suddenly they’re bonding, hanging out and doing all these cool things, Daniel admitting he loves to cuddle a dead thing?! The experiments, the smoothies, the madness from hanging around a vampire, the “I love you too much to turn you” vs “I love you too much to let you go on without me.” Insane. Horrible. Beautiful. I could rant about this section alone for so long. Oh, and learning how the book was published was neat too.

Getting little bits about the twins from everyone’s dreams, that repeating imagery of the cooked body, the heart and the brain on plates. I got really invested in this mystery, and once it all came together it was horrible but so captivating. It’s a great vampire origin story. 

Vampire road trip and vampire roommates at Night Island! I wish this part was longer and that vampires could stand to hang out with each other more, I want my vampire friends to hang out damn it! Jesse and Gabrielle became friends! Louis wants to know about his daughter’s ghost! Grandpa Khayman telling stories! Uncle Marius accepting that Lestat is gonna be little shit and no one can stop him!

Least Favorites:

The violence enacted on Maharet and Mekare, I know it’s to show Akasha’s cruelty but damn.

Smutt:

Lestat’s permaboner. Thanks, Anne.

Lestat and Akasha pinning each other back and forth on the bed and drinking from each other was kinda hot tbh.

Armand and Daniel in Pompeii when they start their romance, if you can call it that. Armand making Daniel have sex with other people while he watches 🙈

Nonsense Meter:

4/10 nonsense again. A bit of nonsense in the Devil’s Minion, and a bit in the Lestat training montage/kidnapped by Vampire Mommy part, but not a ton. Maybe it’s a bias because I liked this book so much and every story was full of drama, high stakes, and complex morality. 

Misc:

I can’t help but wonder what kind of research Anne was doing, I looked up some of the cities, artifacts, and locations she mentions and it checked out. Was she taking ancient history courses or just living at the library?! Gotta give that woman credit. 

I don’t want to get into a long discussion of Akasha’s idea that killing most men would allow women to bring about world peace and fix all our earthly problems, but as someone who has mostly existed as a woman in the world, I may have fantasized once or twice about Thanos snapping a bunch of men, sure, I get it. I don’t agree, I think money, isolation, messed up priorities, and lack of checks in power have more to do with *waves hand around vaguely* everything, but it makes for an interesting premise. “Tell me, my prince, what is the primary use of men now, if not to protect women from other men?”

#queen of the damned #vampire chronicles #vampire chronicles books #anne rice #book review #book rant #spoilers for a 35-year-old book

[nightmyst14-blog]

Snippet of a story I'm writing.

So... The CRK Oc is taking a bit longer than I thought. But I wanna to show you guys a snippet of what I've done so far.

Hope you like it!!

“Captain…Your debt to the abyss is due…”

“W-wait please!!!”

Sour Cream Cookie didn’t understand how he got into this situation… 

Here he was, standing over a man, holding a knife to his neck. He glared at the man with a death glare, his beast aside him. His thoughts racing. The wind blew hard around him, his hair running wild.

“ P-Please I-I’ll do a-anything!!” The man said frantically, pressed up into a corner. Sour Cream’s werehound partner growled, baring their fangs.

“ I apologize, Captain Sea Spike Cookie …” He said, starting into their eyes. “ You’ve been an excellent host for me and Calypso, but I’m afraid I can’t … The Lady of the Abyss is expecting you..”

He was a noble, head of House Scone in the slowly evolving Creme Republic, not a killer. He created things to help others, not destroy How did he get here? 

His memories leading up to this moment flashed in between seconds…

.

.

.

.

“ The ship will be ready to depart soon, my lord!!” A worker said, leading a barrel onto the nearby ship, the Blue Crystal.

Lord Sour Cream Cookie looked out onto the clear blue water, smiling a bit. Its been a year or two since he’s been offshore. His family had traveled far to the blossoming Creme Republic, a small ever evolving city, where refugees come to seek help and safety, helping others.

He did his part in the city, too. Creating jobs by hiring sweet and salty Cookies alike to work for him, being from a family of shipwrights, he always had a fascination with boats and ships. How they work, how miniscule of every fabric and splinter of wood work together to move far across vast oceans. A master of his craft, he earned his small bit of fame of being able to fix and create strong ships.

“ I used to rule the world…. I created so many beautiful things...”

A voice soon snapped him out of his thoughts.

“ Sour Cream!!” Light Cream Cookie called out, walking over to him. She held an umbrella above her head, looking out the sun rays from her eyes. She looked lovely, wearing out of her best sundresses..

He smiled at her, turning around and making his way over to her. His beloved wife,his queen. 

“My love!!” He exclaimed, greeting her with a hug. “ What are you doing here, my darling? I thought you were in bed.” 

“I was, but our son grew restless.” Light Cream said, rubbing her swollen belly. “I wanted to see you before you left.” 

Sour Cream smiled, placing his hand on her stomach, feeling the baby kick. His heir. His beloved child. 

“ They are growing stronger each day…” He said, looking up at Light Cream. He kissed her on the head, smiling brightly. 

“ Do you have to go?” Light Cream asked, her delicate features wrinkling up with worry. She’s been having a bad feeling since a few weeks ago. “I don’t like this idea..”

Sour Cream goes to answer her, but hears the captain call his name. 

“ Lord Sour Cream!!” Captain Butterscotch Cookie called to him from the ship's deck. “ We best be going soon, We want to pass the Black Pearl Islands on a clear day, sir!”

“ Yes, be right there!!” Sour Cream replied, looking back at Light Cream.  “ My beloved, this is for the best of House Scone. I just..” He held her hand tight. “I want to be sure you and our son are comfortable.”

Light Cream looked down at her feet, trying not to cry. ” What if you don't come back?”

“I should have listened to her… I could have been there for her”

“Nonsense! “ Sour Cream kissed her on the head, smiling at his wife’s face. “I will always come back to you, no matter what it takes.”

“ Really?” She asked, looking up.

“ I promise. To the divine themselves, I will come back.” Sour Cream replied, cupping Light Cream’s face. He rests his forehead on hers.

“ We settled on a name right?”

“ Yes. Clotted Cream Cookie.” Light Cream said, smiling a bit. “ I wish you could be there when he arrives..’

“ Its only 4 months, just passing through the Duskgloom Seas.” He said.” After that, I’ll be sure to hire someone to do all my trips.”

“ I was a fool... I AM a fool...”

Sour Cream kissed his wife once more before walking away. He headed up the plank onto the Blue Crystal , looking back with each step. Light Cream was waving at him, smiling bright as the sun itself.

He waves back. “I promise to write to you every month!!”

“ I look forward to it!!” She said, giggling happily.

“ I missed that smile...I should’ve stayed..”

.

.

.

.

Written another letter, sir?” One of the first mates asked, walking by as Sour Cream was tying a wrapped up piece of paper to a Sugar Dove.

“ Hn? Oh yes, !!” The blonde replied, letting the dove go and fly. “ I Just wrote that we were near the Duskgloom Seas, so my letters might be a bit late for a while.”

“Hmph. Glad ya did.” The first mate said, crossing their arms. “ There’s a storm coming this way, the captain suggests on sailing through it.”

Sour Cream looked confused, adjusting his glasses. “But the most dangerous storms are created near the Duskgloom Seas, wouldn’t it be better to sail around it?” He asked, looking off the distance to where the dove flew off.

They shrugged. “ Its the Captain’s orders, not much you can suggest unless there’s damage to the ship. There isnt any, is it?”

“ N-no.. I checked every nook and cranny of this place. Not a crack nor splinter on this ship of mine.”

" Ah, I've sailed through plenty of storms!!" The two jumped when they heard the Captain's voice, turning to look at him. "Don't worry your head about, dear lord!!"

But Sour Cream couldnt stop worrying about it. "C-Captain Butterscotch C-Cookie, I if I may.." He said, adjusting his glasses again. " T-The Duskgloom Seas are said to be the most dangerous part of the ocean! There are many rumors of an ancient being living there as well. I suggest we take caution and find another path."

"Hah! I dont believe in any fairy tales or stories, your greatness!!!" Captain Butterscotch said, laughing. "You sure do have a creative mind, sir!!"

"Haha, I guess.. It is just a sailor's fairytale I heard..." Sour Cream replied, chuckling a little. "Word does get around fast with us shipwrights...

" The truth is scarier than fiction I guess...."

.

.

.

Hope you like that snippet of mine!! Hopefully I make the first part soon!!

#cookie run fanfic #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #crk headcanons #clotted cream cookie #light cream cookie #cookie run oc #crk oc #crk oc: sour cream cookie

[moonflower1605]

Chapter - 28(Part 2)

(Ella's POV)

I thought Percy was done for until a basketball sized rock sailed straight into Polyphemus’s throat.

The Cyclops choked, trying to swallow the unexpected pill.

He staggered backward, but there was no place to stagger. His heel slipped, the edge of the cliff crumbled, & the great Polyphemus made chicken wing motions that did nothing to help him fly as he tumbled into the chasm.

I turned to look back & halfway down the path to the beach, standing completely unharmed in the midst of a flock of killer sheep, was an old friend.

"Tyson!" I said.

“Bad Polyphemus,” Tyson said. “Not all Cyclopes as nice as we look.”

Tyson gave us the short version: Rainbow the hippocampus-who’d apparently been following us ever since the Long Island Sound, waiting for Tyson to play with him-had found Tyson sinking beneath the wreckage of the CSS Birmingham & pulled him to safety. He & Tyson had been searching the Sea of Monsters ever since, trying to find us, until Tyson caught the scent of sheep & found this island.

Percy & I wanted to hug the big guy, except he was standing in the middle of killer sheep.

“Tyson, thank the gods. Annabeth is hurt!” Percy said.

“You thank the gods she is hurt?” he asked, puzzled.

“No!”

Meanwhile, I knelt beside Annie & was worried sick by what I saw.

The gash on her forehead was worse than I’d realized. Her hairline was sticky with blood. Her skin was pale.

Percy, Grover & I exchanged nervous looks. Then Percy suddenly said.

“Tyson, the Fleece. Can you get it for me?”

“Which one?” Tyson said, looking around at the hundreds of sheep.

“In the tree!” I said. “The gold one!”

“Oh. Pretty. Yes.”

Tyson lumbered over, careful not to step on the sheep.

If any of us tried to approach the Fleece, we would’ve been eaten alive, but I guess Tyson smelled like Polyphemus, because the flock didn’t bother him at all. They just cuddled up to him & bleated affectionately, as though they expected to get sheep treats from the big wicker basket.

Tyson reached up & lifted the Fleece off its branch.

Immediately the leaves on the oak tree turned yellow. Tyson started wading back towards us, but I said, “No time! Throw it!”

The gold ram skin sailed through the air like a glittering shag Frisbee. Percy caught it with a grunt.

We spread it over Annabeth, covering everything but her face, & prayed silently to all the gods we could think of.

The color returned to her face. Her eyelids fluttered open. The cut on her forehead began to close.

She saw Grover & said weakly, “You’re not…married?”

Grover grinned. “No. My friends talked me out of it.”

“Annie,” I said, “lay still...”

But despite our protests she sat up, & I noticed that the cut on her face was almost completely healed. She looked a lot better. In fact, she shimmered with health, as if someone had injected her with glitter.

Meanwhile, Tyson was starting to have trouble with the sheep. “Down!” he told them as they tried to climb him, looking for food.

A few were sniffing in our direction. “No, sheepies. This way! Come here!”

They heeded him, but it was obvious they were hungry, & they started realizing Tyson didn’t have treats for them. They wouldn’t hold out forever with fresh meat nearby.

“We have to go,” Percy said. “Our ship is…” The Queen Anne’s Revenge was a very long way away. The shortest route was across the chasm, & we’d just destroyed the only bridge. The only other possibility was through the sheep.

“Tyson,” I called, “can you lead the flock as far away as possible?”

“The sheep want food.”

“I know! They want people food! Just lead them away from the path. Give us time to get to the beach. Then join us there.”

Tyson looked doubtful, but he said.

“Come, sheepies! Um, people food this way!”

He jogged off into the meadow, the sheep in pursuit.

“Keep the Fleece around you,” Percy said to Annie. “Just in case you’re not fully healed yet. Can you stand?”

She tried, but her face turned pale again. “Ohh. Not fully healed.”

I felt her chest, which made Annabeth gasp.

“Ribs are broken,” I said. “They’re mending, but definitely broken.”

“How can you tell?” Percy asked.

"It's kinda obvious. Clarisse can you carry her...?"

Clarisse picked her up like a sack of flour & lugged her down to the beach while Percy, Grover & I followed.

As soon as we got to the edge of the water, we heard Tyson yell.

“Incoming!” He was bounding down the path to join us, the sheep about fifty yards behind, bleating in frustration as their Cyclops friend ran without feeding them.

“They probably won’t follow us into the water,” Percy told us. “All we have to do is swim for the ship.”

“With Annabeth like this?” Clarisse protested.

“We can do it,” Percy insisted.

We almost made it, too.

We were just wading past the entrance to the ravine, when we heard a tremendous roar & saw Polyphemus, scraped up & bruised but still very much alive, his baby-blue wedding outfit in tatters, splashing toward us with a boulder in each hand.

“You’d think he’d run out of rocks,” Percy muttered.

"Of course he wouldn't." I grumbled.

“Swim for it!” Grover said.

He & Clarisse plunged into the surf. Annie hung on to Clarisse’s neck & tried to paddle with one hand, the wet Fleece weighing her down. But the monster’s attention wasn’t on the Fleece.

“You, young Cyclops!” Polyphemus roared. “Traitor to your kind!”

Tyson froze.

“Don’t listen to him!” I said. “Come on.”

Percy pulled Tyson’s arm, but he might as well had been pulling a mountain.

He turned & faced the older Cyclops. “I am not a traitor.”

“You serve mortals!” Polyphemus shouted. “Thieving humans!”

Polyphemus threw his first boulder. Tyson swatted it aside with his fist.

“Not a traitor,” Tyson said. “And you are not my kind.”

“Death or victory!” Polyphemus charged into the surf, but his foot was wounded. He immediately stumbled & fell on his face. That would’ve been funny, except he got up again, spitting salt water & growling.

“Percy!” I yelled. “Come on!”

“Go,” Tyson told us. “I will hold Big Ugly.”

“No! He’ll kill you. We’ll fight him together.” Percy said.

“Together,” Tyson agreed.

Percy drew his sword.

Polyphemus advanced carefully, limping worse than ever. But there was nothing wrong with his throwing arm.

Eventually Percy & Tyson began to battle against him & I could see them fighting out of the corner of my eye.

At some point Polyphemus roared. He ripped an olive tree out of the side of the cliff & smashed it where Percy had been standing a moment before.

“Humans not the same! Nasty, tricky, lying!”

Grover & I helped Annie aboard the ship. Clarisse was waving frantically at Percy, telling him to come on.

I saw them run towards the ship trying to get away & knew I had to do something to buy them some time.

I closed my eyes & felt power surge through me as I summoned a lightning strike down on the Cyclops. It wasn't enough to kill him but it was enough to daze him for a few minutes.

Percy & Tyson were almost to the ship when Clarisse shouted from the deck, “Yeah, Jackson! In your face, Cyclops!”

“Rarrr!” Polyphemus picked up a boulder. He threw it toward the sound of Clarisse’s voice, but it fell short, narrowly missing.

“Yeah, yeah!” Clarisse taunted. “You throw like a wimp! Teach you to try marrying me, you idiot!”

“Clarisse!” I said. “Shut up!”

Too late. Polyphemus threw another boulder, & this time I watched helplessly as it crashed through the hull of the Queen Anne’s Revenge.

The Queen Anne’s Revenge creaked, groaned & listed forward like it was going down a playground slide.

We were sinking fast, trying to swim, without luck, in the bubbly trail of the ship’s wreckage.

Not many people realize that a sinking ship acts like a sinkhole, & it pulls everything with it.

Clarisse was a strong swimmer, but even she wasn’t making progress. Grover frantically kicked with his hooves. Annie was hanging on to the Fleece, which flashed in the water like a wave of pennies.

I knew that I didn't have the strength to try & save my friends much less save myself..

I felt like I was losing myself slowly as I ran out of air & before I knew it I blacked out..

Ciffhangerrrr...again😌

I know I know...but I'll upload the next chapter soon dw..

But yeah, another long chapter for you guys..🙃

Until next time..👋🏻

Link to the prev chapter is here.

Comment, like & share.

Take care my lovely readers.❤️

Alice signing off.

XOXO.

#percy jackson #percy jackson x oc #x oc #sea of monsters

[spinningintheshadows]

Lyric Prompts Vol 6!

Please see this post for the rest of the prompt lists

“And I know how to get you crazy”

“Some killer Queen, making a scene”

“Got a couple nights that have slipped my mind”

“The dumbest guy I’ve dated”

“We’ll dig a deep hole”

“Where we’ve been is who we are”

“And I don’t want to wait until the sunshine fades”

“If our love died, would that be the worst thing?”

“Don’t tell me I’ll be fine”

“Don’t want to get too close to you”

“The last time you saw me is still burned in the back of your mind”

“I ain’t proud of all the punches that I’ve thrown”

“I’m standing on a ledge ready to walk right off it”

“She oughta have a say so”

“Could’ve been a loser kid who ran away and hid”

“I didn’t think these memories I’m writing down could put my mind at ease”

“Call me a psycho but my way of coping is one more song about you”

“What doesn’t kill me makes me want you more”

“I should’ve listened to my head when it said leave it alone”

“Sending postcards home from all my life’s mistakes”

“Where do you go when the drugs run out?”

“Wouldn’t it be apropro for you to blame a Scorpio”

“When I’m with you, everything else can wait”

“They play my favorite song but somehow they play it wrong.”

“Got a history of stories ending sadly”

“I don’t wanna just be yours for the night”

“Wish I knew less about your history”

“Don’t wanna drive another mile wonderin’ if you’re breathin’”

“We’re smiling but we’re close to tears even after all these years.”

“I’m out of sight, out of mind”

“You forgave and I won’t forget”

“Tell me how to change your mind over coffee at midnight”

“Catch up from the things we haven’t heard yet”

“Am I the only one who isn’t dead inside?”

“I’ll leave it up to you to fuck this up again”

“I go out of my way to ruin my peace of mind”

“Rather crack my skull in two than be like you”

“You may want me, I ain’t ready to go”

“I’m so blessed to to be stressed”

“I’ll have you know I’m scared to death”

“Just teenage runaways with no home”

“I’ll take you dancing in the country”

“With the help of a mason jar of watermelon moonshine”

“I want a simple explanation for what I’m feeling inside”

“I think I never thought I’d be the one to let me down”

“Where were you when I was seventeen and fucking depressed?”

“Cause we’re only passing cars and caution signs as you slowly crash your heart into mine”

“Everything I touch becomes sick with sadness”

“So when you have today, you should say all that you have to say”

“As long as I’m laughing with you”

#lyric prompts #lyrics #writing prompts #song prompt #prompt list

[more-than-a-princess]

@madamhatter​ asked:  Sophie is already dragging out the Halloween decor from storage - the several dozen boxes.

Unprompted IC asks - Accepting from mutuals!

"What is making all the noise in-OOF!" Sonia had tried to ask, though as soon as she'd finished a conference call with the Japanese ambassador when she'd opened the door to her office and walked down the hallway to her favorite drawing room. Or rather, she'd tried.

Instead, she'd stubbed her toes at the very end of her pointed, suede heel, which had in turn made contact with a rather large, heavy, cardboard box. The first of...well, Sonia straightened and began to count: ten, fifteen, twenty-three, thirty-one...

When Sophie emerged with another box in her arms, all somewhat neatly stacked and arranged, Sonia gasped in horror. Truly, she hadn't seen such a horrifying sight in ages. And not even the good kind: demonic possession, ghosts, graphic torture, serial killers who stalked teenagers before brutally murdering them. No, this was far more unsettling. Terrifying. Something Sonia would not stand for in her home. Or rather, their home, as she looked around, dismayed, at the various boxes that Sophie had retrieved from storage. By herself, by the looks of it: no one else entertained Sonia's wishes that Halloween should be a year-round event but truly started when various shops and eateries transformed their offerings to ones far more suitable to the Princess of Novoselic's taste.

"Oh, Sophie, this will not do! This will not do at all!" Sonia bemoaned, her gaze darting from box...to box...to box...yes, everything was amiss in here! "Goodness, I wonder if my family ordered the staff to get rid of some of my collection again!? I've hidden the truly cursed and rare artifacts from them already as it would be truly heartbreaking to remove them from my ownership, but even the less possessed and haunted pieces...well, they're perfectly creepy and macabre and deserve a place too! And thirty-eight boxes of decorations cannot possibly be enough to decorate our entire home!"

She sighed deeply: she hadn't had a shock like that in ages and it had drained her, for a moment at least, of her energy and enthusiasm. Far more effectively than seven video calls in a row had done. Nevertheless, Sonia straightened and shook her head: she would be Queen of Novoselic one day. She would have to solve far more complicated problems than this! But considering it was in the final weeks of summer, the solution presented itself far too simply for her to ignore.

"Very well!" She decided, clapping her hands together with a determined look before one rested on her hip, the other extended before her as if she were giving an important order. "Tomorrow, I shall have my calendar cleared for the most important of events! Sophie, we shall begin the first of many journeys to the Spirit store! That shall be the starting place to rectify the perilous situation at hand! And we shall be fortified with the first of the autumnal snacks and drinks! Pumpkin teas and cinnamon scones! I shall ask the kitchen to prepare us the most appropriate breakfast with all flavors of pumpkin, cinnamon, apples, and all the other cozy flavors of the season!"

The fact that it was only August only seemed to excite her further, not dissuade her.

#more-than-a-princess answered #madamhatter #.verse tba #(I...you know the drill at this point) #(I'm so sorry) #(But I saw this ask and was inspired to reply at 1 AM) #(aka. I love it and sometimes my dash clowning hours are inconvenient) #(But when the inspo strikes you gotta run with it!)

[cherry-interlude]

Lana Del Rey Songs Categorised

I didn't include a few but that's covers/demos / sorted by vibe/lyrics / there are other versions of this that could be made

Bad Girl - Lana's bad girl songs that make you feel cool af

Scarface

Summer of Sam

Making Out

Put Your Lips Together

Dum Dum

Kinda Outta Luck

Children of the Bad Revolution

Dangerous Girl

Girl That Got Away

Maha Maha

Hangin' Around

Catch and Release

Queen of the Gas Station

Gramma

Smarty

St Tropez

I Learned How To Make Love

Teen Romance

Prom Song (Gone Wrong)

Paris

Puppy Love

Television Heaven

Love

Back To Tha Basics

Brooklyn Baby

Me and My Boyfriend

Sweet Romance - Somewhat gentle and cute romance songs

Starry Eyed

When I'm With You

JFK

Because of You

Daddy Issues

Tulsa Jesus Freak

Bartender

Groupie Love

Lust For Life

Lucky Ones

American

Joshy and I

Dreamgirl

For K Part 2

You Mister

Coca Cola

How Do You Know Me So Well?

Stoplight Delite

Serious Romance - They have a more serious tone but they're genuinely romantic

Yosemite

Swan Song

Cinnamon Girl

Living Legend

True Love - Deep and romantic

Let Me Love You Like A Woman

Young and Beautiful

Life Is Beautiful

Venice Bitch

Love Song

California

Old Money

Off To The Races

Video Games

Never Let Me Go

On Our Way

Heartbreak - Songs for feeling all kinds of sad romantically

Thunder

Hallucinogenics

Fine China

French Restaurant

Hollywood's Dead

Your Band Is All The Rage

Afraid

Some Things Last A Hard Time

Happiness Is A Butterfly

White Mustang

Norman Fucking Rockwell

Terrence Loves You

The Blackest Day

Cruel World

Dark Paradise

Summertime Sadness

Blue Jeans

Pawn Shop Blues

Westbound

Methamphetamines

F You - Aimed for people who kind of suck

Tired of Singing the Blues

Noir

Playground

It's Not You It's Just Me

Damn You

In My Feelings

High By The Beach

Flipside

In The Sun

So Legit

Seduction - Sexual songs generally

Trash Magic

Us Against The World

Marilyn

Meet Me In The Pale Moonlight

Paradise

Playing Dangerous

Behind Closed Doors

You Can Be The Boss

Party Girl

Pussycat Kittycat

BBM Baby

Big Bad Wolf

Be My Daddy

Ooh Baby

Push Me Down

Delicious

Freak

Salvatore

Daddy's Girl

Burning Desire

Mermaid Motel

Yayo

Disco

Hey You

Body Electric

Kill Kill

Jimmy Gnecco

Wolf T-Shirt

Sad Romance - Kind of toxic romance or the darker side of romance

TV In Black and White

I Talk To Jesus

Colour Blue

Put The Radio On

My Best Days

Resistance

Velvet Crowbar

Breaking Up Slowly

Fuck It I Love You

The Next Best American Record

The Greatest

Cherry

Summer Bummer

Tomorrow Never Came

24

Shades of Cool

Black Beauty

Is This Happiness?

Million Dollar Man Pretty Baby

Drive By

Hey Blue Baby

Greenwich

Hawaiin Tropic

Axl Rose Husband

Butterflies Part 1

Heartshaped Chevrolet

Bellevue

Ben

How To Disappear

Dreamy - Aesthetically pleasing songs sonically, and a lot of Lana's songs are but these stand out the most

Yes To Heaven

Angels Forever Forever Angels

Ave Maria

Wayamaya

Roses Bloom

Honeymoon

Art Deco

Religion

West Coast

Guns and Roses

Bel Air

Cherry Blossom

Dangerous Love - Jealousy and obsession

Your Girl

Is It Wrong?

Jealous Girl

She's Not Me

Serial Killer

Caught You Boy

Roses

Criminal and Gangsta Love - The bad romances

Queen of Disaster

Backfire

Beautiful Player

Crooked Cop

Hundred Dollar Bill

Gangsta Boy

Live or Die

Hit and Run

Ghetto Baby

Every Man Gets His Wish

Live Forever

Bad Boy

Match Made In Heaven

Bops - They're good for bopping

Roll With Me

Motel 6

Florida Kilos

Brite Lites

Diet Mountain Dew

Boom Like That

Starlet - A lot of Lana's songs feature starlets but these are the songs that let her shine as a star

Hollywood Dynamite

Fake Diamond

A Star For Nick

Radio

Strong - Being the stronger one in the relationship

Lift Your Eyes

Serene Queen

Break My Fall

Big Eyes

I Can Fly

Get Free

Mariner's Apartment Complex

Ride

All You Need

Junky Pride

Move

There's Nothing To Be Sorry About

More Mountains

In Wendy

Wild One

Wait

Weird Vibe - They either sound creepy or just have an unsettling feel

Bentley

C U L8r Alligator

Strangelove

You and Me

Let My Hair Down

Get Drunk

Betty Boop Boop

Jump

Raise Me Up (Mississippi South)

Jesus Is My Boyfriend

Hmm - They could go into other categories but they are songs that have darker, disturbing elements

Baby Blue Love

1949

Roller Derby

Heavy Hitter

Boarding School

Ultraviolence

Lolita

Put Me In A Movie

Sad Girl - Songs with a sad vibe

Last Girl on Earth

All Smiles

Wait For Life

Hope Is A Dangerous Thing For A Woman Like Me To Have - But I Have It

13 Beaches

Heroin

Music To Watch Boys To

God Knows I Tried

Pretty When You Cry

Carmen

This Is What Makes Us Girls

Without You

Oh Say Can You See

Born To Die

Valley of the Dolls

Stripper - Pure stripper theme

Go Go Dancer

Dance For Money

Midnite Dancer Girlfriend

Other Woman - Pure other woman theme

Other Woman

True Love On The Side

Sad Girl

Cola

Next To Me

Money/Fame/Materialism - Songs that revolve around those three things

Money Power Glory

Fucked My Way Up To The Top

Gods and Monsters

National Anthem

Breaking My Heart

Makes You Think - Deeper songs

Coachella

God Bless America - And All The Beautiful Women In It

When The World Was At War We Kept Dancing

Beautiful People Beautiful Problems

Change

Money Hunny

Looking For America

Songs That Sound Like Diary Entries - More personal tracks

I Must Be Stupid For Being So Happy

My Momma

Wild At Heart

Dark But Just A Game

Not All Who Wander Are Lost

Blizzard

Elvis

White Dress

Aviation

Run Motorcycle

Out With A Bang

Dance Til We Die

Bad Disease

Fordham Road

I Don't Wanna Go

For You

Try Tonight

You're Gonna Love Me

Outliers - They're more happy

Come When You Call Me

Birds of a Feather

Driving In Cars With Boys

#lana del rey #lana del rey songs #lana del rey unreleased #may jailer #lizzy grant #aka lizzy grant #sirens #born to die: the paradise edition #ultraviolence #honeymoon #lust for life #norman fucking rockwell #chemtrails over the country club

[supernaturalgirl20]

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, you’re safe now, they won’t hurt you anymore.” - Frankie's badly beaten up and bloody and his wife takes care of him.

Thank you for your request. Hope you enjoy ☺️

Regret

Pairings: Frankie Morales x reader

Warnings: angst, mention of pregnancy, violence, being held captive, fluff ending.

It took Frankie months to fully recover mentally from his trip to Columbia, but you finally had your Frankie back. He doted on Sophia and got his pilot license back, allowing him to go back to his job with search and rescue. Life was good. You’d recently found out you we’re pregnant again. Frankie was over the moon, hoping for a son. What you didn’t know, as you sat, cuddled up to Frankie watching a movie, was that things were about to change again. Frankie a phone rang in his pocket and you moved off him as he went to answer it.

“Pope, it’s been a while! How is life in Australia?”

You sit watching him talk on the phone, his face changing from light hearted to serious in seconds.

“Pope you know can’t. What do you mean why not? What happened the last time? Besides I promised Y/N I wouldn’t do anything like that again. Fine I’ll listen but I’m not promising anything.”

Hanging up the phone he turns to look at you.

“No!”

“I haven’t even said anything.”

“Yeah and it’s still no. God damn it Frankie I can’t go through it again.”

He tries to hold you close but you stand up and move away from him. He follows you into the kitchen where your loudly tidying up.

“At least just let me go and meet him, see what he has to say.”

“I don’t really have a choice do I?”

“Please don’t be like that, I love you baby.”

“Really funny way of showing it.”

You finish clearing up and head to bed, not even sparing Frankie a glance.

***

There’s been an awkward tension in the air since the phone call. Frankie is out at the local bar meeting the Pope and the Miller brothers. This feels very deja vu. Your sitting in bed rubbing soothing circle over your growing bump when you hear the front door close. The sound of his footsteps echoing throughout the house. Deciding to head down and talk to him you grab your night gown.

“Well what did he have to say?”

Frankie is startled having not heard you coming down the stairs.

“Jesus women, scared the shit outta me. You better sit down.”

“No, I’m fine. Spill it.”

He’s frustrated you can tell, as he lifts up his cap and runs his fingers through his hair.

“It’s a simple job, some girls been kidnapped and held for ransom here in Texas. All we gotta do is go get her home safely.”

“Simple! I’ve heard that before Frankie and look how that turned out. You promised me, you promised it was the last time. Did you forget how it affected you, us. Sophia is older now, she’ll notice your absence. What about our baby? Please don’t do this Frankie, please.”

“I’ve got too. This really is simple baby and the money would set us up for life.” He comes to stand beside you, pulling you by the waist flush against him. For Sophia and this little one. His hand is rubbing your bump now.

“I don’t need money Frankie, just you. It looks like you’ve already made up your mind, so I think it’s best you stay Benny for now.”

“Baby, please don’t do this. I love you.”

“Then don’t go.”

You look at him expectantly, “thought so.”

You pack a small bag for him and leave it at the door. He grabs it and leaves. You spend the night crying in bed, wishing he’d stayed.

***

The job wasn’t simple at all. He should have listened to you, your were always right. They got the girl home safe but he had been caught trying to get her out to Will. Turns out she was being held by some narcos and they were not happy. They had beaten him within an inch of his life all the while all he could think about was leaving you and his babies all alone. It broke him more than the beatings did. The boys came back for, of course they did and they wanted to bring him to hospital. He refused, only wanting to go home to you. He hoped you still loved him and wanted him home.

Arriving at the house he slowly makes his way up to the front door. He’d refused to let the boys help, saying he wanted alone time with his family. He doesn’t have his keys so he knocks on the door. When you finally open it you rush to him as he slumps into your arms.

“Frankie baby, what happened? Talk to me!”

“It’s ok baby, I’m fine.”

“Your not fine look at you, your bleeding and oh baby your face.”

“I just want to go to bed, please.”

“I need to clean you up first ok.”

You help him out of his clothes and his body is adorned with bruises. You strip out of your own clothes and help him shower. Once he’s clean you bandage him up and rub cream on his bruises. Helping him into bed you give him some pain killers.

“You need to rest now baby ok.”

***

“No….no….please not her please take me…..noooo”

Frankie shoots up in bed, sweat dripping down his face. You bolt upright and pull him close, running your fingers through his hair.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, you’re safe now, they won’t hurt you anymore.”

He holds you close.

“I’m sorry baby I should have listened to you, I wouldn’t be..”

“No we’re not doing this. Your home that’s all that matters. Your safe now Frankie, your home where you belong.

Tagging:

@lunaserenade @anaaaispunk @librariantothejedi @day-off-inkyoto @asta-lily @maievdenoir @elinedjarin @dindjarinneedsahug @pascal-rascal424 @pintsizemama @seasonschange-butpeopledont @janelongxox @stevie75 @thorins-queen-of-erebor @dihra-vesa @loserrlauraa @kirsteng42 @ikinmahlen @almaeunice @jediknight122 @colorlesswhispersunknown @rosie-posie08 @alberta-sunrise @javierpinme @pascalisthepunkest

(If you want to be added or removed please let me know or fill out my taglist form 😊)

#pedro pascal #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie x reader #triple frontier fanfiction

[unmaskedagain]

Not Waiting forever

I’m pretty sure this has been done like a million times already. But I decided I’m going to try to answer as many prompts, that are already in my asks, as I can before I burn out. I AM NOT CURRENTLY TAKING PROMPTS.

THESE will not be full-fledged fics but more than likely ONE-SHOT drabbles. I need to push through my writer’s block. This is disregarding Miracle Queen.

 …It wasn’t Marinette’s choice.

Ladybug, the new guardian after Fu’s tragic heart attack, had gave her opinion but that was it. Kwami were stubborn. No matter what Marinette said in defense of Alya and Nino, Trixx and Wayzz. None of the Kwami were willing to be given out to anyone they didn’t give express approval of anymore. It wasn’t a risk they could take. And now that Marinette was the Guardian on top of being a full time hero, they couldn’t allow just anyone to watch her back. They all decided that Marinette needed someone she could trust and who trusted her. And just as importantly, they needed wielders who better fit them.

Alya failed to see through Lila Rossi. She fell too easily for lies to be a master of illusion. Instead of searching for the truth, gathering evidence, she rather just believe what she’s told. She demanded proof from Marinette rather than believing her friend over someone she just met. She was stubborn and once Alya’s mind was set on something, there was no stopping her.

Trixx refused to go back to her. The kwami wanted someone more creative and free thinking. Maybe a different type of writer, she said. A clever story teller.

Nino failed to stand by his friend when she needed him the most. His lack of loyalty to one of his oldest childhood friends had left a bad taste in Wayzz’s mouth. He chose Alya’s side, and thus Lila’s, without even bothering to hear what Marinette had to say. Or even demanding that they at least take her view into consideration.

If Nino couldn’t stand by his dear friend over a minor issue, the Kwami couldn’t trust he’d guard Ladybug’s back, who a technically stranger to him. Wayzz refused to allow Nino to be his holder again.

           Marinette had gotten more than a bit defensive because despite everything that was going on in class, she still believed Alya and Nino would come around. She believed that the two, and everyone else in class, would realize Lila was lying.  It was just a matter of time.

“That’s the issue, Mistress,” Wayzz frowned at her. “You shouldn’t have to wait for them to have your back.” He told her.

           Trixx nodded, “Alya could’ve easily looked up any of Lila’s claims when you told her Lila was lying. But she didn’t because she didn’t want to. Lila’s tales about Ladybug are a hit on her blog. Alya would rather cling to fool’s gold because its shiny than do what she knows is right.”

           Marinette crossed her arms, “Alya can just get a little… excited. You know how much the Ladyblog means to her!”

“Yes. We do,” Trixx nodded. “What we don’t know is how much you do. From what we can tell… not that much. Alya would rather think you’re jealous,” Trixx added, “And that you’re the problem than consider that her and the entire class got duped. It’s not fair.”

“Your friends routinely ditch you,” Wayzz reminded her. “Ignore you in class, believe the worst about you. They have all but severed their friendship with you completely. This has been going on for months. This is not something that can just be blamed on Lila’s falsehoods. It was their own choices that led to this. We do not trust them.

“I trust them?” Marinette offered weakly.

           Trixx and Wayzz shared a look before shaking their heads.

“No,” Wayzz said. “You want to trust them.”

“There’s a difference,” Trixx told her. “You want to trust them like you want them to be the friends you knew again. You want them back. I’m sorry, Marinette. But we want new holders. All the Kwami do.”

“You need a team now,” Wayzz stated. “Not a later. Hawkmoth is growing stronger. You need allies. It’s time.”

“Pollen doesn’t want a new holder,” Marinette said petulantly.

           There was silence.

“…Pollen was always the weird one,” Wayzz shrugged. “Pollen will never change her mind about Chloe.”

           Marinette narrowed her eyes. That had been the longest argument ever. Eventually Marinette had lost the battle when she was forced to admit how much the blond hero had improved over time. Chloe hadn’t bullied or hurt anyone’s feeling in a very long time. There had been no tantrums or threats to call her daddy. Even without a mask, Marinette had spotted Chloe helping people escape Akumas at the risk of herself. She was proving to be a hero outside of being Queen bee. Marinette did trust her to fight by her side which had been the deciding factor.

Plus Pollen refused to give in, and the only one the Kwami would pick. So Marinette gave in. She went to Chloe as Ladybug and gave her the hair clip.

“Welcome to the team,” Ladybug smiled as best she could.

           Chloe held the hairclip with disbelief and tears in her eyes, “I’m going to be a hero? You trust me.”

“You are a hero,” Ladybug said and did the bravest, and possibly the stupid thing in her life, “Spots off.” She detransformed in front of Chloe. The blonde’s mouth dropped. “And I do trust you.”

“Dupain-Cheng!” Chloe hissed but then goarned. “I should’ve known.”

“Yes, Chloe gets to stay.”

           Trixx giggled, “Pollen only likes Queen Bees, and she hasn’t come across any better than Chloe at your school.”

“And, while, Chloe didn’t like you before, she does now.” Wayzz admitted, “She was always very loyal to Ladybug. She has potential to be a good hero if we can break her love of the limelight completely.”

           Marinette huffed.

“And I remind you, there were conditions,” Wayzz advised. “A new costume and a new name. New hair color. Whatever it takes. She can never tell the public who she really is. Killer Wasp has a nice ring to it.”

           Marinette sighed and slumped face first onto her. She could hear Tikki snickering in the background and vowed to only bring oatmeal cookies to her for the next week.

What was Marinette going to do? What could she do? She had been so excited when the Kwami told her they wanted to get more permanent use like Tikki and Plagg… Until they broke the news. (And just a bit of Marinette’s heart)

           Now Marinette had to find new users.

           Trixx wanted a creative free thinker who wasn’t the least bit stubborn. A different type of writer, Trixx has suggested. A clever story teller.

           Wayzz wanted who had the natural born ability to be a protector. Someone smart and hardworking who had proven themselves to be loyal.

           Marinette’s head snapped up and she glared at the two Kwami, “You already know who you want, don’t you?”

           Trixx and Wayzz smirked.

“In my chosen’s defense,” Wayzz started, “She has proven herself to be loyal to a fault. And with the right amount of confidence, she will be an extraordinary ally.”

“My chosen is so creative,” Trixx swooned, “The most brilliant imagination. As a natural storyteller, his mind was born to see all the possibilities. It allows him to come up with theories and ideas no one else would even consider. There is no illusion he can’t see through because as soon as he sees it hundreds of different explanations run through his head.”

           Marinette raised an eyebrow and gave them firm stare. “Who is it?”

“I want Marc!” Trixx said happily.

The bluenette looked thoughtful for a moment but eventually nodded, admitting that Marc would be a good match for Trixx. “Agreed, I will give Marc a trial run to test his abilities.” Then Marinette turned to Wayzz who was looking very sheepish.

“Hear me out, if we get my chosen on our side, she’d be unstoppable,” Wayzz told her. “There would be nothing she wouldn’t do for those she cares for.”

“Who. Is. It?” Marinette asked again.

“I like her,” Wayzz insisted. “She has potential. If she was just a bit bolder…”

“Wayzz…” Marinette said.

Trixx snickered, “There’s a reason Wayzz gave into Chloe…”

Marinette paused. She slowly sat up on her bed, and looked at Wayzz long and hard, “…Sabrina? You want Sabrina!!!”

“Yes.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” The shout could be heard all over Paris.

“She hated me,” Marinette reminded the kwami.

“Disliked you,” Wayzz corrected. “But only because Chloe did. Once Sabrina found out you and Chloe had become friends, you have to admit she has become rather sweet. She’s a hard worker and defended you against Lila three times last week.”

“And you do like her,” Trixx added. “Why else would you have a slumber party with Chloe and Sabrina?”

“…I hit my head a lot during fights,” Marinette shrugged. “Magic can’t take away all the damage.”

           She sighed. Marc and Sabrina, huh? Marinette wondered how that was going to work out. She hated to admit it but Wayzz and Trixx were right. Ladybug couldn’t wait anymore. She needed a team. One she could count on in and outside of the mask. The city needed more heroes.

           It wasn’t right to make them wait just because she clung to a hope that everything would go back to the way it was. Marinette really missed her friends but she couldn’t wait for them anymore. It had been months.

           And even if everyone in class discovered Lila’s was lying, that Marinette wasn’t a jealous, nasty bully, that she was their friend… That Marinette had always been their friend… It wouldn’t matter.

           Truthfully, after everything that had happened, Wayzz was right. Marinette didn’t trust them, she just wanted to. And that wasn’t enough.

           Not enough for Kwami, and not enough for her. (not anymore)

           Nothing could or would go back to the way it was no matter how much Marinette wished it. Once bitten, twice shy. A part of will never entirely trust them again. (Not when they traded her for fool’s gold already before.)

           Paris needed more permanent heroes. Ladybug needed a team. Marinette needed people she could trust.

           She was done waiting.

(She wondered how Alya and Nino would handle being replaced...)

…

…

            ...They didn’t take it well.

(Sabrina, Shield Maiden, and Marc, Renard Masqué, thrived as heroes.)

#ml salt #marinette dupain cheng #class salt #alya salt

[outofsstyles]

KILLER QUEEN (80s!AU)

 A/N: Heyaa!! So here’s what happens when I watch Sing Street right after reading some of Olivia’s boyfriend!Harry prompts :) Also a huge thank you to Soph @canyon-moan​ for betaing this for me!! A gentle reminder that I was not, in fact, alive in the 80s so please take it easy in that aspect lol. If you like it *please reblog*, it helps a lot, also I’d love to hear your feedback!!!!

Word count: 25.3k (I have no self control!! Someone stop me!!)

Pairing: Musician!Harry + Bassist!Reader

Prompts: making it official + enemies but secretly lovers

Warnings: Our typical mentions of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll (and a lot of denim!)

Concept: You and Harry are in rival bands and you shouldn’t really get along but you can’t help it.

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

It didn’t come as a surprise to you that, from the moment you agreed to be part of the band, your agenda would become more frantic. That’s all you read on magazines or see on the television on those late nights MTV programs that love to talk about that rockstar life. The shows and the sleepless nights. The drugs and the sex between stages. It’s always what comes to the minds of anyone that thinks about following the music path.

Of course, you’re far from being The Bangles or Duran Duran, but even when it comes to playing for uninterested drunks on small crummy bars, you still found yourself barely able to catch a breather from it. 

And it also doesn’t help that on top of it all, you also try your best to balancing your studies as you go into your third year of uni. So, between being tucked behind your bass during rehearsals and going around begging for stuck up pub owners to give a spot, you still have to find time for the busy class schedule that also blends with your tutoring job on the side. Sometimes it feels like juggling those two contrasting lives is too much, and when you walk home each day too exhausted to even function, you ponder if you should just drop one of them.

You still manage to fall into a rather chaotic routine of dragging through weekdays to fall into reckless weekends. It’s not easy, but you make it work.

Today, however, seemed to be an odd one. From the moment you woke up with the sound of birds chirping and the faint conversation of your neighbors outside your window, you felt a sense of relaxation that has become a rarity to you. It’s a welcoming change from your usual rowdy roommates bantering at each other or the loud music blasting through the walls that serve as your alarm on regular days. The silence that engrosses your normally-chaotic home is calming as much as it is strange. 

The whole day went by in a lulling and lazy pace, and between your several attempts of keeping yourself occupied (that being going on a walk to the library or going through your mom’s old recipe book) you actually catch yourself realizing the quietness can be louder than your roommates.

It’s a weird concept to you. Missing them when you spend so much time together in the band, but you still can’t help it. So you just blast the radio and let Rio fill in the empty walls as you wait for one of them to come home.

By the time the night falls, wind thumping on the closed windows as the first thin drops of rain start to hit the glass, Lena is back from her shift with a low huff and a roll of her eyes, mumbling how she’s never covering weekend shifts ever again -- which you both know is not true, but neither mention it. And that’s how you find yourself at the end of your unruffled day, tucked at the end of your couch under a cozy blanket. Listening to one of MTV’s nightly programs - that Lena watches almost religiously after a day of work - as background noise. You focus on the open book settled on top of your lap, enjoying her company quietly as you flip through the pages.

It could be the perfect ending for a perfectly relaxing day, the sound of the rain almost lulling you to sleep as the words in front of you begin to shuffle, finding it harder to concentrate with your mind drifting off.

But before you can let your eyes fall close and your head snuggle back into the cushions, you’re startled awake by the burst of your front door opening. The sudden noise makes you and Lena jump, a yelp leaving your lips as you look back to the source of your fright. 

You barely have any time to feel panicked or even wrap your head around the possibilities of what could have caused the outburst as Abbey barges into the room.  She all but jumps on each step, stumbling a bit as she makes her way around the couch to stand tall in front of you. Her red hair is full and damp, droplets of water running down her body, causing her clothes to stick to her skin.

“I got us a gig!” Her breath is short as if she just ran a long way.

“Christ, Abbey, don’t do that!” You relax back into the couch once you realize there’s no real threat invading your home, closing your eyes and letting out a breath. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

She scoffs, “Did you listen to a word I just said?” You notice her eyes are blown out, “I got us a gig, as in a </i> real gig.”

“A real gig?” Lena inquires, standing up to walk towards the front door that was left agape, closing it with a thump.

Abbey’s grin grows, her words come out slow but clear. “Next Saturday in the Blue Bird.”

“That’s in a week.” You state.

Her shoulders drop, “Yeah, and?”

“Blue Bird?” Lena comes in the room again, stopping by the head of the couch and crossing her arms under her chest. “How did you even get that I thought the only band that played there was--”

“You’re right Lena, was as in not anymore because we are playing there, and there’s more.” She interrupts, her voice raising an octave. “The owner, Ronnie, said if we’re good enough he can arrange for us to play every other weekend.”

“You’re insane.” You shake your head slightly. “That’s like a place where people actually go for the music, what makes you think we can pull that off?”

Abbey points a finger at you, “You’re being a pessimist, and that’s not appreciated in here.” She waves her hands around, trying to assert her point. “We can and we will pull that off and take over the permanent spot on the weekends.”

“Is that what this is about?” Lena smirks, eyebrows raising at her friend. “It’s been a hot minute since you raged about that Harry boy.”

 “It’s not just about him, Adeline.” She barks, “It’s about us! We need to find our confidence again.”

 “Again?” You speak out, making her snap her eyes back at you.

“Yes, again.” She says, “We’re doing this and it’s gonna be wicked.”

You sigh, nodding in agreement as you exchange a knowing look with Lena.

In all fairness, the prospect of playing a gig at an actual music house is as exciting as it is scary. It’s not like you think you’re not able to pull it off, but the simple thought of having people actually paying attention to your presence on stage is enough to make you want to hide under your covers and never come out. But seeing Abbey so pumped about it, there’s no way in a million years you’d ever say no.

She was the one that wanted to start a band, after all. Before she dropped out, in what seems like ages ago, she was your roommate that would drag you around every time she had those spontaneous ideas, that is going out for pancakes at three in the morning, go on weekend trips to concerts two cities away, or, well, start a band herself.  

In the beginning, it was just the three of you, Abbey as the lead, you on the bass, and a girl you met on one of the said weekend trips, who had introduced herself as Lena, on the guitar. And not even a month later, you were all living together in a tiny house near the main street. 

At first, the biggest issue, to your surprises, was that you couldn’t find a drummer if your lives depended on it. Even after putting out posters around campus, you only got two calls from men whose only interest was the “all-girls band” part of it. Things got better when you met Jaz, a smiley girl from your Phonetics class. She wasn’t a drummer, but her boyfriend was, they both played for their High School band (which is how they met, a proper movie-worthy story if they’d ask you). And just like that, you got yourselves a drummer and a keyboardist.

For the next few months that followed you played on dirty bars and house parties, getting paid with tipsy pats on your backs, or, if you were lucky, maybe a pack of cheap drinks for you all to share. It’s the frustrating part of trying to get into the music path, you found, most serious places were not interested on a band with hardly any live experience and no original songs whatsoever. So you just had to take whatever opportunity came your way. Once, you even played on the birthday party of Lena’s manager’s daughter, which was probably the most disastrous experience of them all, considering a crowd of eight-year-olds and their posh moms weren’t exactly fond of listening to loud covers of Blondie. You got to play three full songs before one of them asked you to leave. 

The first time you actually got money was when Abbey dragged you and Lena to play on the sidewalk of the National Park, where people would come and go with their busy lives and full wallets. That was the best one, you easily got three hundred within a few hours of your open cases, which was split between the three of you at the end of the day.

Afterward, you wanted to play on the streets again, but Abbey wished more than just being a street performer, she yearned for the glow of the spotlights and a place on the stage. And it’s not like you lot didn’t think of it as well, how it would be like to have an actual gig. So, you just went back to the old routine of jumping from bar to bar.  Playing for people that couldn't care less about your presence on the small stage, focusing only on their cheap beers and drunk conversations. 

For a while it seemed like that was all there was to it, the music scene getting more congested by the minute, you thought there was no way you’d ever make it out there. There were moments you even thought about giving it up, if you were honest, setting your mind into getting your English degree that at least has the guarantee of a stable paycheck by the end of it. But as Abbey always says, there’s nothing you can’t do with a twist of your hair and a bat of your lashes. And somehow, she managed to be true to her word, presenting an opportunity to actually start taking this seriously.

And it would be a lie to say there isn’t an excitement growing at the pit of your stomach the more you think about it.

                                ❁         ❁        ❁ 

You’ve heard about the Blue Bird before.

Of course you have, it’s near to impossible not to. Being in a small town, predominantly surrounded by uni students, and that being the only music pub in the area, you’ve heard about it quite often. 

It’s become quite the hot spot for people interested in listening to good music while getting lost in the bottom of their beer glasses. With the only other competitor being a good forty-minute drive away, people go in crowds on the weekends as a getaway from their textbooks. You’re not sure why you’ve never been in it, though, only going as far as walking past it on your nightly walks during the week, listening to the faint sound of whatever band’s playing at the time. 

But if there’s one thing that’s always brought up when the subject is the Blue Bird is CHASM, more specifically Harry Styles. They have the permanent spot on the weekends and have become one of the main reason people - women, mainly - come in lots to have a spot inside the packed space. 

As much as his name comes up in a dreamy sigh and followed by a string of giggles when you hear it being mentioned by a classmate or overhear it somewhere in public, inside of your bubble he’s pretty much only mentioned in annoyed huffs or with a roll of eyes. If you’re honest, you know close to nothing about him, wouldn’t even be able to point him out on the street if you ever happen to cross paths. But you do know that Abbey is not fond of him in the slightest, so for that, you try to keep your distance from anything that has to do with Harry Styles.

You’re not sure how this hatred of her came to be and to be honest, you’ve never really been bothered enough to ask. Abbey doesn’t like a lot of people, her first impression of them it’s what she keeps in her heart with zero to no chance of changing it, so you just assume this Harry guy might’ve not given her a good one. It’s never really been something you really dwelled on, the circumstances in your life allowing you to ignore his existence unless he’s being spoken of. But it feels like a whole nother story now that you’ve essentially stolen his golden spot on the saturday night. 

The moment you walk into The Blue Bird is when you start to come to the realization that this is really happening. Not even a full step in, your eyes already dart to the big stage standing tall across from the entrance door, bigger than any other one you’ve ever been in -- being used to small platforms that barely have enough space to fit a drumset. it’s hard not to let your lips part in awe at the size of it all, the outside is rather modest compared to it, the only really striking detail being the LED sign with the name of the pub. There’s a large bar standing in the middle of the place, serving almost as a divisor of the two areas of the pub. The first area is the one you walk into as you first enter the place, with tables surrounding the space -- that now have their chairs propped on top of them, and you reckon this is where people sit around as they wait for the musical act of afterward when they can barely keep themselves up on their feet. The second area, however, it’s just empty of any barrier, except from the stools lined in front of the bar, meant mainly for people to crowd in front of the stage.

The walls are what catches your attention, though. The one where the front door stands is covered with magazines and newspaper cutouts of celebrities, scandalous headlines written in big bold letters, and random articles about their personal lives. On top of this big collage, there are band posters, you assume the ones that played in here, most of them stuck once to the wall, except for one that you can see multiple different colored papers with the same name written on it. 

You stop in front of one of them, one that’s just below your eyesight but catches your attention with the big blood-red letters that read CHASM on top of it, with a smaller font on the side saying  “live every weekend of ‘87” right below it. What you focus on, however, are the five faces staring back at you, their serious expressions looking almost haunting with the black and white filter. But it’s the one in the middle that your eyes immediately dart to. Unlike his bandmates, his lips are frozen with a slight smirk, small enough that wandering eyes could easily miss it, but still prominent enough that you can make out the shadow of a dimple on his cheek. His hair is settled in a wild nest, but not in a sloppy way, you decide, they’re a rockstar kind of messy. He’s handsome, there’s no doubt in that, just by looking at the small print of his face you can understand what the fuss is about, not that you’d ever admit that out loud. But it doesn’t keep your mind from wondering the color of his eyes and what it would be like to see them up close, as you look back at the taunting grin you think what could be the tone of his lips or--

“Lost something in there?” Lena’s voice makes you jump, turning swiftly to find her grinning at you. “You should come and start getting everything ready before Abbey finds you admiring our arch-nemesis.”

Your eyes widen, coughing in surprise as you try to regain composure after being caught. “I-- I wasn’t--”

She chuckles, turning to roam back to the stage before you can finish, throwing you one last look over her shoulder. “Sure thing, buttercup.”

You spare one last look to the poster before following her lead to the other side of the room where the rest of your friends are setting up the instruments on top of the stage. Once you locate your case tucked in the far left corner you quickly open it, finding your soft pink tinted bass resting inside of it. The Sesame Street sparkling stickers stuck to it glimmer from this angle (you got them in a favor bag from when you played at the birthday party), thanks to one of the spotlights shining directly at them. You pick the instrument up, adjusting the strap over your shoulder and giving the chords a few experimental strokes before looking up at the empty place.

There’s no denial of the anticipation that takes over every part of your body at the sight of the pub from the stage. A perfect mixture of excitement and anxiousness that lights up as you imagine how it will be like to see it filled up. It makes you gnawn at you bottom lip, jumping a bit on you feet as you move to connect your bass to the amplifier.

For a while, you just finish setting up the stage, tuning in the instruments, the sounds echoing on the empty space in a bit of a disarray, as you get used to the feeling of using proper sound equipment. You had the chance to meet the owner, Ronnie, for a brief minute as he strolled around the stage, observing you all before mumbling something about paying anything you broke and announcing he’d be in his office until opening hours. It wasn’t the warmest greeting you’ll admit, but you don’t really care, enjoying the opportunity nevertheless. 

Abbey arrives just a few minutes before the rehearsal is set to start, contemplating the view of everyone getting into a more of a harmonic arrangement before disappearing backstage for a moment without saying much of a word. When she comes back, she props herself in front of a big curved mirror cutting through one of the walls.

“Do you think you can do my makeup today, babe?” She calls back at you, gazing from over her shoulder with a slight pout on her ips.

“Sure.” You fiddle with the guitar pick between your fingers. “Do you want that rainbow look from last time?”

“Maybe something with less color this time.” She focuses back on her reflection, sighing loudly as fingers run through her locks. “I’m thinking of dying my hair black,” she tilts her head as if she’s envisioning her words. “I don’t know, just to try out something new.”

“That won’t make you look more like Joan Jett, you know.” A voice echoes in the empty space, bringing your attention to the entrance of the place.

And there he stands. The figure you had been staring at not long before, on the same poster stuck right behind where he is leaning, arms crossed and a smug look on his face. 

Harry stands there as if he just walked right out of the big screen, is the kind of beautiful you don’t see quite often outside a magazine cover. Not that it’s something that surprises you, considering you could tell from even a poorly printed image on a poster that the sharp curve of his jaw and the cut of his cheekbones could call anyone’s attention from afar. Even with what you find to be a rather plain outfit for someone like him, a simple white turtleneck tucked in his lightwash jeans, matched with a denim jacket, he still manages to stand out somehow. It’s almost compelling, really. And you can’t help but follow him with your eyes as he pushes himself off the wall, making his way towards the bar with an attitude as if he owns the place.

Abbey scoffs from her spot, arms crossing under her chest. “Unlike you, I don’t have to try to be someone else to get attention, Styles.”

He rests an elbow on top of the counter, chuckling as he points a finger at your friend. “You’re getting better at this, I’m proud.”

“What the fuck are you even doing here?” She barks, keeping a stern look pointed at him.

“Wanted to check out who stole our Saturday night spot, princess.” He spits back at her, words dancing around the room in a teasing manner. “When Ronnie said it was a bunch of newbies had to see it with my own eyes.” Unlike her, he doesn’t seem bitter at the situation in hand, but somewhat amused at the heated girl scoffing at him. From the distance you stand, you can’t make out details, but it’s still enough to notice the grin imprinted on his face, dimples marking his cheeks as he clenches his jaw, eyes wandering around the stage as he leans back fully to rest both elbows on top of the stool. “Plus, I get free booze before the House opens.”

As the words leave his lips his eyes meet yours, and you quickly realize you must’ve been staring for quite a while. You see the smirk growing on his face before you quickly look back at the forgotten bass in your hands. There’s a warmth creeping from your neck to the tip of your ears from getting caught all but gawking at him. You move your hands to the cords, beginning to tune the instrument as an attempt to cover-up. But when you take a peek at him you still find his eyes watching you, only enhancing the blush that’s now undoubtedly taking over your cheeks.

“You lot are way more organized than I expected.” He speaks up again, motioning towards Ross sitting by the side of the stage near the drumset.  “Got a roadie and everything.”

“Piss off!” Ross snarls back at him.

Harry just smiles. “Just taking a piss, mate.”

“I better not see you going around trying to get to one of my girls, Styles.” Abbey calls back from her shoulder as she jumps onto the stage, turning to face him. “Or you’re a dead man.”

“What’s that they can’t speak for themselves?” He arches his brows at her. “Where’s all that sexual freedom you love to brag about?”

“You’d love to use that as an excuse, wouldn’t you?” She toys with the mic stand. “You stay away from them.”

There’s no more banter once you begin the rehearsal. Harry grabbing a glass of a drink you can’t quite make out from the distance and moves to a spot tucked by the back of the place. Curiously, you catch yourself glimpsing in his direction every so often, but you can barely make out his silhouette due to the stage lights limiting your vision. At one point, when it dims down, you can see him scrunching over the table, focusing on a small journal sitting on top of it -- you find it odd his choice of place to do so, but don’t duel on it too much.

What keeps crawling back into your mind is Abbey’s words to Harry earlier, telling him to not try his way with any of you. She was talking about you. That much was clear, considering there’s not any other choice for him, with Jaz being very much compromised and Lena having no interest in engaging with men in any way. That leaves you as the only option that he could possibly pursue. It makes you think why she’d even consider that a possibility in the first place, but you push it to the back of your mind, concentrating on you bass lines until it’s around the opening hour and you’re getting ready backstage.

None of you are used to the concept of having a dressing room, so as undusted as it seems from a first glance, it still only helps to enhance the reality that hits you of this whole experience. The far voices from people starting to fill in the bar outside making your nerves become near overwhelming as you try to apply some eyeshadow with shaky hands. 

When you’re all ready to go, just about half an hour away from walking onstage, you try to dull your anxiety with a cup handed to you by Lena of something you’re not quite sure what it is but it tastes like oranges and tequila. You settle on a spot on the certainly old red couch prompted against the wall. Avoiding a big rip cutting through the middle of it, foam poking out of the hole, you try not to think of what could’ve caused it -- or all the other stains adorning it. 

There’s people coming and going around the space, the door not staying close for longer than a minute. Faster than you can process it, the room is suddenly crammed with people, none of which you recognize yet they greet you as if you’d been friends your whole life. Their loud voices mesh together, making it harder to even hear your own voice if you were to speak out loud. A strong scent of incense takes over the room, so intense you can feel the beginning of a headache. There are people stumbling on their feet trying to get to the stool across from you, where you catch a glimpse of a man with a messy mohawk snorting something out of a dirty bill. 

Two strangers found their sits next to you at some point - not paying the same attention you had to the rip scarring through the cushions. Both get lost in their conversation, the man’s fluffed curls poking your face occasionally when he gets too excited with the hand gestures. You catch a word or two when they try to include you in it, you offer a simple nod, not bothering to try and understand their muddled words.

It all starts to feel a bit overwhelming, the amount of strangers surrounding you along with the nervous feeling that’s already taking over your stomach -- the drink not being of any help at all. You look around trying to find a familiar face, but you can barely spot the green ends of Lena’s hair through the crowd. Gazing down at your wrist clock, you figure there’s enough time for you to find a emptier spot so you can calm yourself down.

“I think I’m gonna get some air.” You say to no one in particular, seeing the man’s head nodding from your peripheral vision as you maneuver your way between leather-clad bodies towards the door.

You’re met with a just as packed hallway. Searching for a more vacant space, you spot a sign indicating an exit door that had been pointed at you earlier as the back alleyway. Without a second thought, you make your way around the crowded space. The nest of feet makes you trip slightly, making you crash against a girl standing next to the door. You mutter a quick apology, but you’re only met with a pitched giggle in response.

Once you reach the door you all but jolt your way out of the building. The brisk night air hitting your face, bringing a sense of relief near to instantly. You close your eyes at the feeling, breathing in as the breeze dances around your face and messes with your air.

“Well, if it’s not one of Abigail’s bunnies.” A voice cuts through the air, breaking you from your moment of relief. Your eyes flutter open, meeting Harry’s irises watching you. He’s leaning back on the wall across from you, foot prompt up and jacket thrown over his shoulders. His fingers fiddle with a closed package of cigarettes, dimples shadowing on his face in amusement.

You blink at him, taking a second to process his words. “I’m not a bunny, whatever that means.”

His lips twitch up. “I’m sure you’re not, darling.”

You observe as he thumbs the package in hand open, quickly grabbing a cigarette and resting it between his lips. “Need a light for that?”

His brows shoot up. “Didn’t take you for a smoker, angel.”

“I’m not, my friends are.” You reach for the back pocket of your jeans, pulling out a tiny pink lighter and throwing it towards him.

He catches it, holding it up between his index and middle finger. “You carry that around for your friends?” He keeps his eyes trained on you as he raises the lighter, flicking it so it paints the end of the cigarette a fiery orange. You can’t help but notice the chipped black nail polish adorning his nails, a couple of rings hugging his fingers, only adding to his rockstar persona. His cheeks hollow around it, taking a slow drag exhaling smooth puffs of smoke out of his puckered lips. He points the end of the cigarette towards you. “That’s a good girl.”

You feel your breath hitch on your throat, looking down as you feel for the second time in the day a heat taking over your cheeks. Standing awkwardly in the middle of the alleyway, your gaze waves around checking a few other lone smokers not too far from you. When you peek at him again, he’s still watching you with the same smug look he had when he first walked in. From this distance you can get a better look at his face, with it’s full colors, and you make a point to figure the forest green of his eyes flickering under the dim light. 

You clear your throat, trying to fill in the silence that’s taken over the space. Keeping your eyes still trained on a random spot where the alley meets the street, you speak up,  “So, how did get a gig here?”

“Trying to get to know me now, love?” There’s a smug tone to his voice, and it makes you shoot your eyes at him.

You shake your head, scoffing softly. “Was trying to be nice, forget it.”

He lets the air fall quiet for a beat, the corner of his lips tugging up as he takes another drag of the cigarette. “My uncle owns the place.”

“Ronnie is your uncle?” You crease your eyebrows.

“Yup.” He props his foot down from the wall, kicking a small rock on the floor. “He’s a right prick, but he can be nice if you get on his soft spot.” He shrugs, eyes meeting yours. “What ‘bout you, bunny?”

 “What about me?”

“How did you get in the spotlight?”

You breathe out a laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not in the spotlight,” 

“You’re stepping on that stage in a few minutes, love, that’s hardly true.”

You chew on your lip, locking your eyes on your feet as you sway back and forth gently. “But I’m, like, on the invisible side of the stage.”

“Invisible side?” 

You shrug, trying to appear unflappable. “Yeah, well, no one ever notices the bassist.”

“I do.” He says without skipping a beat, and when you search for his eyes they’re aloof as if the words just left his lips without a single implication behind them. You wonder if there is one. Or maybe you’re just reading too much into it. Nonetheless, it doesn’t stop a flock of butterflies to sweep on your stomach as he shoots you a warm smile. He motions to the door behind you with his head, “Better get going, darling, if someone spots us talking they might think we’re friends.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“Did you see how crazy they went when we did Call Me?” Abbey leans over the table, not paying any mind to the way it starts to tilt towards her side. You and Jaz quickly balance the weight, straightening surface before the filled cups can start sliding down and causing a mess. You give her a scolding look for not being careful, but she doesn’t even look at you, only picking a fry from the pile in the middle and dipping inside her vanilla milkshake, sitting back and elbowing Lena next to her playfully. “And to think you said it’s not a gig song.”

“I didn’t say that.” Lena shakes the cup in her hand, circling the straw as to mix the melting ice cream inside, completely unfazed by her friend’s tease. “Just said we should do something new if people wanted old songs they would tune on that good times radio station, or whatever it’s called.”

“People like listening to classics!” Abbey protests, raising her voice bit, she’s either forgotten she’s in public or is just simply too stoned to care. Either way, you try to shush her, muffling a giggle with the back of your hand as you see a group two tables down looking back at her. She only huffs, leaning back down on her seat, “What do you suggest we play, then? Duran Duran?”

“I like Duran Duran.” You pester, trying to repress a smile as she shoots you a pointed look.

“I actually think Duran Duran is a great idea.” Lena backs you up, the same taunting smile reflecting on her face as she says it looking at you. 

“You two are completely insane if you think I’m singing new wave, might as well start to fill in for a new vocalist.” She shoves her hand full of fries, dropping to her side of the table with a shrug.

“Jaz you think that girl from your choir is available? The blonde one?” Lena bites into her straw, barely containing her laugh as Abbey narrows her eyes at her.

You watch in amusement from across the table, the contrast between Lena and Abbey looking comical as they continue to banter at each other. In one side there’s Lena who’s leaning back on the wall next to her, her neon pink jumpsuit standing out from anyone else in your group, hair hardly styled, being more of a nest in her head, the sides shaved and the back falling on her shoulders in a mullet. On the other side, Abbey’s swallowed in black, the only color being the red of her hair, that’s pushed up in a high side ponytail.

It was her idea to come to the diner after the gig, declining every offer of an after party (which is new for her) and insisting you had to have this moment to decompress together as a band. What you didn’t take account of, is that a diner on a Saturday night isn’t exactly a deserted place. So after spending an hour sitting on the parking lot, waiting for a table, you finally got yourselves a booth tucked by the back. And now as the place gets clearer and quieter by the minute, after getting your round of burgers, you share a big pile of fries, not ready to leave and sleep on this experience just yet.

“You know who also seem to enjoy the show? That Harry dude.” The mention of his name calls your attention to Lena. “Caught him in the corner a couple times watching us.”

You take a sip of his drink, trying to mask any expression that exposes the fact that you’d noticed too, maybe more than just a couple times.

To your relief, everyone focuses on Abbey as she lets out an annoyed huff. “Why’d you bring him up of all people.” She picks up her nearly empty cup a bit too harshly, her voice rising again. “He called me a Joan Jett wannabe! Fucking prick.”

 “You do dress like her,” Lena raises her brows in defiance.

“It’s called an inspiration, Adeline, doesn’t mean I’m trying to be her.” She barks at her friend. “Doesn’t give that knobhead the right to be a dick about it.”

“Why don’t you like him?” The question slips out of your lips before you can stop it, and you regret it as soon as all eyes on the table set on you, Abbey’s face creasing in an incredulous look as if the answer was obvious.

 “Are you serious? Did you hear how he spoke to us?”

“I don’t know,” You shrug, looking down at your lap, fiddling with the hem of your shorts. “Just seemed like he was trying to get a rise out of you.”

“He’s got a stick up his ass, babe. A full narcissist, it’s ridiculous.” She shakes her head, scrunching her nose in aversion. “He’s also a complete womanizer, it’s disgusting if you ask me.”

“I guess,” You gaze up at her.”

“Babe, he’s a charmer, I’ve seen it before, he knows how to sweet talk someone.” She explains in a sigh. “They’re all like that.”

“They?”

“Men in bands.” She picks up another fry, poking it on her forehead as she makes her point. “Have their heads bigger than the whole stage, think they can do just about anything.”

“Suppose that’s true,” You agree, not wanting to get further in this discussion.

She smiles, biting a piece of the fry before pointing it at you. “It is, which is why we are smart girls and don’t fuck with them.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

You’re aware that going for a walk by yourself at night is not a very secure choice. 

Even living in what you feel like could be the most monotone town in the area (where the biggest report on the local news was when two boys got stuck on a tree thanks to a dare with their friends). But it still doesn’t stop you from being careful, only going around the busier streets, watching the movement of people - mostly students - chatting the night away on the filled pub table, enjoying the short break between studies before going back at it once the weekend’s over. 

You stroll around with not much of a purpose, really, only needing a bit of time to yourself every so often when you feel the turmoil in your home becomes to much (on those weekends when both your roommates decide to stay home). So you just go on your usual path, breathing in the night air and enjoying some alone time.

The ending of your course is marked by none other than the Blue Bird, standing in a corner of the main street.

 A small group of people is gathered in front of it, smoking their cigarettes. You stare at them for a minute as you get closer to the led lights indicating the entrance of the pub, the girls with their bright-colored outfits, hair styled and puffed up as they laugh along to whatever one of the boys has said. One of them has a leather jacket thrown over her shoulder that almost swallows her figure, and you can only assume that it belongs to the man talking to her, leaning back on a payphone, the quiff in his hair so high it makes him look like a knock-off John Travolta. The thought makes you breathe out a laugh to yourself.

Once you reach the entrance you look at it mindlessly, not being able to see much from outside except the string curtain hanged on top of the open door. You turn on your heels, ready to start making your way back, but as you pay attention to the muffled sounds coming from inside the pub you stop on your tracks. A familiar tune catching your attention, making you turn in the direction of the entry. Somebody to Love. 

It peaks your curiosity. If you’re honest, you feel like covering a Queen song is probably one of the most bound for disaster decisions someone can make. But as you feel yourself approaching the entrance, the voice of whoever’s singing it all but lures you inside. It’s not the same as the original, of course, but the lower tone to it fits it just as beautifully and once you fully walk in you can almost feel your heart skip a beat to find Harry standing on stage. His eyes closed in concentration. 

It’s saturday. His saturday night. You forgot about that.

You don’t dare to try to mend amongst the crowd of people packed in front of the stage, making your way to the bar. You thankfully find an empty stool without much of a fight, allowing you a perfect vision of the stage.

Harry is playing the guitar, his voice blending perfectly with the vocals of the girls in the background, eyes closed as he feels every lyric coming out of his throat. His stage look is much different than the one he wore back when you first saw him, it’s something you reckon not many people could rock out as good as he does. A mismatched suit, light green blazer with a pink blouse underneath, along with bright blue trousers -- it’s as if he picked one piece from different colored suits (which you assume he probably did). The locks of his hair are no longer running wild on his head, instead, it’s gelled back, a single rebel strand falling charmingly against his forehead. You wonder if it’s on purpose.

It’s quite a sight to see him like this, you’re not gonna lie. All suited up with no tie, the blouse only partially buttoned so you notice a tease of some tattoos on his chest. You’d noticed his good looks before, it’s impossible not to, but there’s something about the stage glow that makes it impossible to look away from him. It’s mesmerizing.

To your surprise, the rest of his set mainly consists of originals, and unlike you’d expect for any amateur band that dares to sweep away from covers, he manages to hold the crowd’s attention as if he’s singing any other hit song you hear on the radio. Even not knowing the lyrics, people cheer along to the songs, moving to the beat as best as they can in the crowded space. And that’s a direct result of the charisma he holds while standing on stage.

It’s entrancing, really, how he holds himself as if he was born to be doing this. And you think maybe he was. 

There’s a mischievous glow to him, when he rocks out to his own songs, grinding slightly against the mic stand. A gesture that makes you flustered even from your seat a couple of meters away. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him even if you tried. And you’re sure as hell not trying.

At one point you feel a poke in your arm, turning around to be met with the barman who recognizes you from the week prior. He greets you with a shout over the noise, offering you a drink on his account. Your first instinct is to refuse, considering you weren’t even supposed to stay for long, but after a bit of insisting on his part you accept with a shy smile.

By the time he’s ending the last song, you’re at the edge of your seat, catching yourself wishing you could see more of him. The lights in the audience turn on as he wraps up the set, and just before he bows down with the rest of his band his eyes wander in your direction. It’s so quickly that you think you could’ve just imagined it, considering his eyes don’t meet yours again, only rushing his way backstage.

You blink at the empty spot where he once stood for a moment, almost feeling frozen in place as you try to take in what happened. Turning on your stool to face the bar, you gaze down at your forgotten drink. You hold it to your lips, deciding to finish it so you can ease your way out before anyone else spots you. Your attempt is frustrated, however, when you hear a voice coming from behind you.

“Reckon Abbey Road would throw a fit if she knew you’re wandering around watching my concert.” You turn to face Harry, finding him looking down at you, signature smirk making his dimples poke onto his cheeks. His hands are hidden inside the pockets of his dress pants and he’s taken off his blazer, causing the pink of his blouse to stand out even more.

You chew the inside of your lip. “I can make my own decisions, you know.”

“That’s good to hear, bunny.” His smile grows, hand leaving the pocket to motion at the empty spot next to you. “Mind if I sit here?”

“Be my guest.”

He sits on the empty stool, turning to the bartender that’s handing a drink to a man standing behind you. “Can you give the lady another one of what she was drinking? On my tab.”

“Oh you don’t have to, I was about to--” You begin, but the man behind the counter doesn’t care to listen, only picking up your empty glass and moving away to fill it up. “leave.”

“Already?” Harry arches his eyebrows, resting his arm on top of the counter and leaning towards you. His voice comes out a bit softer, dropping the playful tone, “let me buy you a drink, angel.”

You ignore the way the hairs on your neck rise at the petname. “You really don’t have to--”

“I want to.”

“Okay.” You breathe out, not being able to hold back your smile once his own grows on his face.

As if on cue, the bartender comes back with two glasses, setting them in front of the two of you. You don’t fail to note the fact that he gives Harry his drink without being asked to.

He picks up his glass, holding it up, to which you do the same, clinking your glasses slightly before taking a sip.  “So, what brings you here tonight? Measuring the competition?”

 “I was just walking around, heard a lousy cover of Somebody To Love, and decided to come in.”

He throws his head back a bit in laughter, nose scrunching adorably. You have to look away as to not find yourself staring. “A Queen fan, then?”

 “You could say so.”

“A pretty girl with a good taste in music, gonna steal m’heart if you keep going, bunny.” And just like that, it’s like he takes all the words out of your mind. You only let out a small chuckle, taking a sip of your drink as you look away to cove the blush that paints your cheeks. His eyes are still trained on you, though. “Was it any good?”

“Huh?” You blink back at him.

“The cover.” He grins. “Or was it really that lousy?”

“Oh, it was amazing.” You say truthfully, clearing your throat. “You have a beautiful voice.”

“Thank you.” He bows his head slightly, smiling at you. And unlike before, it’s not smug, but rather warm, you smile back at him. “Enjoyed the show, then?”

“I did.” You nod.

“I’m glad.” He runs his finger around the brim of his glass, tapping against it once with a click of his ring against the glass.  “What would you change about it?”

The question takes you back. “What would I change?” 

 “Yeah.” He clasps his hands over his lap, moving his feet on the floor so his stool swivels from one side to the other.

“Uhm…” You crease your brows, trying to hack your brain for an answer. Your eyes land on his blouse, still halfway unbuttoned. “Your shirt.”

“M’shirt?” He questions, brows shooting towards his hairline, clearly not expecting the answer. He gazes down at the piece on his body, fingers pitching the material as he looks back at you. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Not a big fan of pink.” You shrug.

“Now, we just can’t have that, bunny.” He clicks his tongue. “Pink is the new color of rock n roll!”

You chuckle. “Says who?”

“Says me.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Oh, I’m sorry then, mister rockstar.”

His face lights up in a giggle, lips parting to say something but before he can let the words out a hand rests on his shoulder calling both your attentions to the man standing next to him. You recognize him from standing next to Harry on stage as the guitar player.

“We’re hopping over to Eamon’s.” He doesn’t acknowledge you until Harry’s eyes hover over in your direction. 

“That’s fine, think I’ll stay behind this time.” Harry looks back at his friend, but you see him glimpsing at you from the corner of his eyes.

You watch as his friend raises his brows, gazing between the two of you in a curious manner. You clear your throat, shifting in your seat as you look at them. “ It’s fine, I should get going anyway.”

“You don’t have to,” he says in a blink, a smirk twitching on his lips almost as if to cover up how quickly he said it. He turns back to his friend, who’s still watching the interaction with raised eyebrows.  “You can go without me, I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“Harry, you didn’t have to.” You subconsciously reach for his arm, retracting your touch just as fast when he glances at it. Clearing your throat, you play with “I really should get going, I was supposed to be on a walk after all.”

“Let me walk you back then,” he gets up from his stool, giving his friend a brief hug before turning back to you and extending his hand for you to take. Your lips part to protest, feeling as if you’re holding him back even though it was his decision to stay behind, but before the words can even come out of your mouth he beats you to it,  “there’s no way I’m letting you go home by yourself this late, love.”

You sigh, shoulder dropping in defeat as you hold back a smile. Taking his hand, you stand up, “okay.”

The main street hasn’t exactly quieted down since you first walked by it, in fact, it only seems like it’s gotten rowdier. Time only increasing the buzz wandering in the air around the people filling the bars, voices louder, filled glasses clinking more frequently. As you stroll through it side by side there’s a comment or to that floats in the air, but you have to all but shout it, fighting with the turmoil of noise.

As soon as you turn into the first street away from the crowds it’s as if someone had turned off the sound completely, the nest of voices getting far-off in the distance and the loudest sound being of the night breeze kissing the tree branches above you. You can feel Harry glancing up at you from the corner of your eye and it doesn’t take long until his voice echoes in the air in an attempt to make small talk.

It’s surprising to you, how easy it is to be drawn in a conversation with him. Harry’s essentially not the same offstage as he is under the spotlight, most people aren’t. There’s no need for him to bloat his charisma when talking to you, he’s quieter. Shy, almost. And it takes you back a bit, to see such contrast in a short amount of time. 

The magnetic force to him, however, still lingers even when he’s like this. You feel drawn to it, wanting to hear him speak about everything that comes to mind, just to savor the way he articulates his words, voice so calm and low it sends an electric chill down your spine. As he tells you about his music inspirations, going on the story about the time he traveled alone to crash a Fleetwood Mac concert, hands brushing against yours when he walks, you catch yourself wondering what it would feel like to link them together.

Once you reach your street, just a block away from the entrance gate of your home, you notice the front lights are yet to be turned off, indicating your roommates are still up and around -- most likely arguing about MTV’s top ten of the week. The realization makes you come to an abrupt stop, catching Harry off guard as he takes a few steps before realizing you stayed behind. 

“Wait.” You say once he turns around, brows furrowed in a silent question as to why you stopped. “Uhm… You can drop me off here… It’s fine.”

“What do you mean? Is it too far? I don’t mind walking-”

“No!” You interrupt. “It’s not that, my house is right there, see?” You point to the bricked building no too far from where you stand.

“Why do y’want me to drop you off here, then?” The crease on his face deepens.

“I-- it’s just--” you begin, not knowing how to say it. “It’s just the girls are still awake, and..”

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, an amused grin expanding on his cheeks. “Don’t wanna get scolded for hanging out with the enemy.”

“Don’t say like that.” You chuckle at yourself, looking down in embarrassment. “They just will never let me hear the end of it.”

“I get it, bunny.” He takes easy steps towards you, closing the space as he stands tall in front of you. You hold your breath as you look up at him, meeting his irises glimmering in enjoyment, dimples shadowing on his cheek. His hand reaches up, moving a strand of your hair behind your ear and you swear if he gets any closer he’ll be able to hear your heart thumping in anticipation. “Had a lovely time with you.”

“Me, uhm--” you clear your throat as your voice cracks, blood flooding your cheeks. “Me too.”

The streetlight above gives his face a golden glow that almost takes your breath away, his hair glistening in the light due to the gel pushing it back, and now even more rebel strands curl against his forehead. You half expect him to lean down, you don’t know why he would, but for a moment it seems like he will. To your dismay, however, he steps back, giving you one last smile before moving out of your way on the sidewalk. “I’ll see you around, then.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“I have some exciting news for you.”

Abbey’s voice startles you, not realizing she’d entered the dressing room while you focused on the book on your lap. Since you’ve gotten a spot at every other weekend on the pub, your routine just seemed to get even more busy, with rehearsals almost every day. So, because of that you barely find time to do your assignments. And with a book report due just around the corner, you’d thought maybe you could sneak in some reading time after the gig when everyone’s down at the bar and not prancing and screaming around the dressing room.

 Your assumptions shows itself to be wrong, however, when your perky friend bounces her way to where you sit. She kneels next to the couch, crossing her arms on top of your legs and resting her chin on them, looking up at you expectantly, lips lifted in a side grin. 

“What is it?”

“Got us an after-party, babe.” you notice a few colored lollies in her hand when she removes the plastic protecting a red one, shoving it between your lips before you can even protest. “And you’re coming with us.”

“I’d love to but I have class tom—“ Your voice is muffled around the sweet. 

She rolls her eyes, standing to sit next to you on the arm of the couch. “You should stop wasting your life with an outdated system” 

“You mean getting a degree?” 

“Do you watch the news? We’re about to be the last generation to live fully, the world is about to break into nuclear wars all around.” She says as a matter-of-fact, turning to rest her legs on top of your lap. “Cosmo said we probably won’t even make it to the 2000s” 

“Who’s Cosmo?” 

She sighs, reaching to move a strand of your hair behind your ear. Her voice comes out soft, but calculated, “what matters is that we should enjoy our time while we have it.” 

“You’re giving a whole speech about nuclear war to convince me to go to a party with you.” You arch your brows at her. 

“Yes.” 

You sigh, shoulders falling in defeat as you let yourself be convinced. “Okay. But I’ll—” 

“Great!!” She squeals, moving her legs from your lap and leaning down to grab your face, pressing a quick kiss on top of your hair before jumping from the couch, and out of the room. 

Once you arrive at the location of the after-party, Abbey leads you and Lena to a tall gate by the side of the house, explaining that you’re walking in from the back garden, considering the front door is locked. You find it odd, and if wasn’t for the muted sound of instruments echoing inside the bricked walls of the place, you’d doubt there was even a party happening here at all. The front of it was as regular as the other surrounding suburbian homes, grass neatly trimmed and the front lights turned off, as if nobody was even home.

Which is why you’re visibly taken back when you walk by the gate into the back area, finding an old vintage bus that could be around ten or even twenty years old, sitting in the middle of the grass. The wheels of it have been taken off, and every inch of the exterior is covered by graffiti, so much you couldn’t even make out the original color of it if you tried. Some of them are unreadable scribbles tangling on top of each other. Some are colorful drawings painted over them -- two sunflowers catch your attention, marked just above where the wheel would be, growing tall along the side and above the window.

“I know, right?” Abbey nods at your astounded expression. “Legend says John Lennon signed it somewhere.”

“Really?” You look at her, not able to hold back the way your voice pitches in amazement.

“Dunno, never looked for it.” She shrugs. “C’mon I’ll show you.”

She grabs your hand, dragging you to the side of the vehicle pointing at some random drawings and explaining the rumors behind their meanings. You try to concentrate on her excited babbles, but as you see Lena walking away from the corner of your eye you look up to watch her meet with a girl you’ve never seen. Before you can focus back on your friend, something else catches your attention, sitting on a wooden bench under a large tree, no too far from where you stand.

Harry’s in a small group sat in a circle. You recognize two men from his band sitting on the grass with guitars propped on their laps, one being the same that interrupted you the night at the bar. The rest are women who seem to have come right out of Fleetwood Mac’s tour bus, their long hairs pushed back with hairbands and earthtoned flare pants. But you barely even care about the ones sitting on the grass, humming along to the strings of the guitars. What grabs your attention is the one next to harry on the bench, her arm draped over his shoulder as she dabbles flower petals playfully on his hair. 

You hardly take in his appearance, half-mindedly noticing the tattoos decorating his arms that pokes out of his tank top and the twirls on his hair as the girl winds her fingers on it. it’s hard not to remember Abbey’s words when she said he knows how to sweet talk his way around, and the thought of having fallen down on his trap only makes your heart pang on your chest. 

“-- That’s basically why they won’t let anyone paint over it anymore.” You turn back to Abbey as she points to the sunflowers you’d spotted earlier, nodding along as if you’d heard everything she said. She looks at you, “but I like this way better, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah.” You agree, not exactly knowing what to.  

She wraps her arm around yours, and you grasp the minty scent of her perfume as she pulls you close. “Let’s go inside.” 

There’s an urge inside of you to peek back over your shoulder to catch a last glimpse of Harry, but you push it to the back of your mind, allowing Abbey to guide you around the bus where the entrance door is hanging open. 

A small group of people greet you inside the bus, amongst them is the said ‘Cosmo’.  He seems like the exact kind of person you’d imagine Abbey hanging around on her weekends’ escapades. Dressed in a baby blue velvet suit with nothing underneath his blazer except a few of - what you assume - hand-painted tattoos, matching with a rainbow stripe drawn on the side of his face, starting at the bridge of his nose and going all the way to the curve of his jaw. His hair hits just around his shoulders, the sides shaved so it’s like a puffed version of a mullet, edges dyed in a bright shade of red. He toys with a lit joint between his purple lips, picking it up and offering to you with a raise of his brows.

Normally you’d decline the offer, especially coming from someone you’d just met, but there’s an annoying feeling settling itself at the pit of your stomach. One you want to ignore but can only do so much to dull it, so you accept the joint, reaching for it and placing it in your mouth. 

You’re not a regular smoker by any means, and when you inhale you can feel the smoke burning your throat as it moves down to curl inside your lungs. It makes you want to cough it out but you hold it in, trying to take in everything before huffing it out in a choked breath.

“Do you want a drink?” One of the girls asks you, already pouring you a purple drink inside a labeless plastic bottle.

“What’s in this?” You accept the cup, giving her an skeptic look.

“Pure fuel, babe.” Abbey leans on your shoulder from behind.

You hang out in the bus for a while, and, to your surprise, you don’t feel left out as they keep notice to include you in their conversations. The drink ends up being not that bad, and, even having no idea what’s in it except for the very artificial citric taste mixed with some very strong cheap alcohol, you still refill your cup after you finish it. 

It’s a nice feeling, to get a bit looser in a party and allowing yourself to have some adventurous fun. And as time goes by and your mind gets cloudier, the group starts to disperse. Two of them find a spot in the back with as much privacy as they could get in a party to swallow each others faces. Another one passes out in one of the seats behind you, hugging the empty plastic bottle as if it’d run away from them. It leaves just Abbey and Cosmo with you, discussing with each other about something that you’ve stopped paying attention a long while ago.

You just watch them silently, resting your head back on the seat and feeling the late hours weightening on your eyelids. You feel like you could doze off at any moment, but what stops you from it is a loud screeching sound of an amplifier from inside the house. It startles you, making you jump slightly on your seat as you hear a voice speaking almost like a groan, and you’re not sure if it’s your drunken mind or the inaudible words but you can’t make out a single thing that’s being said. A crease deepens between your eyebrows and you turn to question your friend about it but, before you can do so what seems like the most obnoxious cover of  We Built This City starts playing.

Abbey gasps as the chords of the song somehow get even louder, grasping her hand on the man’s arm. “Oh my god!” She squeals, exchanging a look with Cosmo as they both all but jump from their seats. She glances down at you, “We’re going in, are you coming?”

You raise your brows at her, trying to hide the scrunch on your face. “I’m good.”

She nods, making her way out of the bus, her feet stumbling on each other as she holds onto her friend’s shoulder to keep her balance. And just like that, you’re left alone on the leather seat.

You peek at the couple in the back, eyes bulging slightly as you see the girl has lost her shirt, the boy’s hands caress her chest as they keep their lips locked harshly. Deciding to give them a bit more privacy, you make your way out of the bus as well, the contrast from the compact air inside the vehicle to the crisp wind of the outdoors sending chills down your body.

Looking around, you realize most people hanging around are gone, probably gone inside the house. You can’t help but let your eyes wander to the spot you’d seen Harry earlier, and you don’t hold back the shock in your face when you find him still sitting on the bench, but this time with no one else around him. He fiddles with a lighter on his hand, flickering every so often to watch the weak flame before letting it die again. 

Your feet start to move before you can really grasp that you’re walking towards him, your head still a bit cloudy from the substances in your bloodstream. He looks up once you get close to him, signature smirk growing on his lips as he glances up at you.

“Look what we have here.” He leans back, “a lost bunny.” 

“Hi, Harry.” You say simply.

His smile turns a bit softer. “Where are your bandmates?”

“Celebrating.” You shrug.

“Shouldn’t you be as well?”

“I am.” You hold up the mostly empty red cup.

He chuckles. “I see, having fun by yourself then?”

You focus on a spot beyond his head, suddenly feeling timid under his gaze. “Seems like it.”

“Want to join my private party here?” He shifts to his side, patting the spot next to him. “S’very exclusive, as you can see.”

“Well, I’m honored to be invited, then.” You sit down on the space he made for you.

For a moment, there’s a silence between the two of you, the only sound being the jarring cover of  Everybody Wants to Rule The World. The notes of it are so off that you can’t help but huff a relieved breath when it comes to an end, enjoying the few seconds of silence before they begin another song. 

A small groan leaves your lips when the noise starts again, catching Harry’s attention as you feel his eyes land on the side of your face. “It should be illegal to ruin great songs like this.” You shake your head to yourself, speaking your thoughts out loud in a rush of confidence. “They should get arrested for it.”

He chuckles. “You’re not wrong.”

Your eyes dart at him, meeting his. It’s hard to miss the way his irises glimmer under the moonlight. When he glances down at the lighter still in his hands you take the opportunity to really have a look at him. The proximity makes you aware of a small constellation of freckles kissing his nose, and the stubble starting to poke out the skin along his jawline. You want to blame the haziness in your mind for the thoughts of how it would feel like to have it scratching against your skin. Or how it would feel under your lips as you nibble your way all the way to his rosy lips. You want to push these away, belittle them as nothing but drunken thoughts. But you know very well it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve let yourself be entertained by them.

A pitched scream takes you out of your head. You realize there’s been a beat of silence since he’s spoken, so you clear your throat, a warmth creeping up on your neck as if he’d been able to hear your thoughts. “Do you know them?”

He shakes his head slightly. “Not really, no. They played in the pub once, Ronnie hated them.” He glances at you, corner of his lips itching upwards. “Call themselves Crystal Illusion, so there’s that.”

“Christ.” You can’t help but roll your eyes. “And here I thought it couldn’t get any worse.”

The sound of his giggle makes you look back at him, catching the sight of his dimples carving deep on his cheeks. “You’re really something, aren’t you, bunny?”

“Why do you call me that?” The question rolls of your tongue before you can even think about it. His brows raise at your question, and you decide to enjoy the rush of confidence and pick on it further. “Dunno if I’m supposed to feel offended or charmed.”

 “Don’t mean it as a tease, can tell that much.” He smiles, shrugging slightly. “You just remind me of a bunny.”

The words pique your curiosity. “How so?”

He looks back down to his lap, and if it wasn’t for the poor lighting you would be sure of the blush taking over his cheeks. “Just all cute -- could tell you were a bit reserved, and like, curious. Had your eyes wandering all around when I first saw you.” He moves his head around lightly as if to explain his point and you have to bite back a smile. “And when you were focused you’d scrunch your nose a bit. Like a bunny.”

“I’m glad you didn’t say I have big ears.” You try to humor, searching for his eyes.

He laughs, looking up at you. “I mean, now that you’ve mentioned it…”

Your gasp shifts into a giggle as you push him away playfully. “Well, if I’m a bunny...” You pause, racking your mind to think of an analogy for him, but your mind is still a bit slowed down, your thoughts taking a beat too long to catch up to your words. When you glance down to the arm that’s brushing against yours, you notice the tattoo peaking on his skin. You reach for it without thinking about it, fingers tracing the ink as you take in the drawing, his eyes follow your touch curiously. “Then you’re an eagle.” You cringe to yourself as soon as the words come out of your mouth, attempting to mask it as you breathe out a laugh.

He arches his brows, lips fluttering, trying to hold back a smile. “You think I’ll kill you?”

“Oh shit, you’re right.” You cover your face with your hand, shaking your head at yourself. “Didn’t think that one through.” Your laughs meld together for a moment, slowly dying off and giving space a comfortable silence. The only sounds being the nightly hum of cicadas and the whisper of the breeze against the branches of the trees, that and, well, the faint screams of instruments from inside the house. Looking up at him, a breath hitches when you realize the proximity of his eyes to yours. You try to tease him but when you speak your voice comes out lower than you expected, almost in a whisper,  “so you think I’m cute?”

“Course I do.” He says in a blink. “Don’t think that’s much of a secret, love.”

You chew on your bottom lip, not missing the way his eyes dart down on your face. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, wiggling his eyebrow teasingly. “Think I’m pretty?”

“I won’t inflate your ego if that’s what you want.”

“I tried.” He breathes out a laugh, eyes moving back down on your face but this time he doesn’t rush them back to yours, not hiding the intent of his gaze. For the first time, you’re glad for the background noise, afraid that if it wasn’t for it he’d be able to hear the thumping of your heart.“Can I kiss you?”

“Huh?” You blink at him, not because you didn’t hear him, but because you’re a bit taken back at the forwardness of the question.

 He moves his arm to rest on the back of the bench, turning his hand to play with the tips of your hair. “Can I kiss you, bunny?” He repeats.

You nod before you can find it in you to voice your answer, clearing your throat, “yes.”

The hand that’s not in your hair moves to caress your cheek, he takes a moment to look at you, thumb rubbing your cheek gently before he leans in. Your eyes flutter close instinctively, holding your breath in anticipation as you feel his lips on the corner of your mouth. He keeps them there for a beat before pulling back, tilting your face a little just to finally close the space between your mouths.

The kiss starts slow. Uncertain, even. His lips are soft against yours, warm breath hitting your cupid bow as he sucks in your bottom lip gently. You feel his hand cupping your jaw, sneaking behind your neck as he pulls you closer and you all but melt under his touch. Being this close you can smell the scent of his cologne mixed with the smoke of cigarettes, and something about it is so sensual you can’t help but grip on his shirt as to have something to hold on to.

You can feel yourself getting lost on his touch, shamelessly scooping to the side as you enlace your thighs for the sake of being closer to him. His hand falls on your knee, rubbing it as your tongue line on his bottom lip.

It’s the sound of the door that leads to the house sliding open that falls like a bucket of ice water on your head, reminding you of your surroundings, and that you’re not, in fact, alone with him in the garden, which means any of your friends could easily spot you if they were to walk outside.

  It’s almost like he reads your mind when you pull away from him, loosening your grasp on the material of his shirt. His lips don’t let you get far, trailing their way along your jaw until he can bite on your lobe. “Relax, petal” He whispers, pulling back to look at you as your noses brush together. “They won’t see us, even if they do they’re probably too stoned to even care.”

You let out a weak chuckle, gazing at the door where a group of people stumble their way towards the bus, voices loud as they slur incoherent words. It’s hard to see inside the house as most of the lights inside seem to be turned off, but you can tell how packed it is, bodies pressed so close together it makes you wince slightly just with the thought of being amongst them. Looking back at him, you ponder for a second before nodding. “You’re right.”

A grin paints on his face before he leans in, closing the space between you once again.

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“Still with us?” A call of your name on the mic snaps you out of your thoughts.

Looking up, you’re met with your bandmates curious eyes staring right at you and you realize you’ve probably been too lost in your own head to pay attention to the conversation in hand. Your lips part for a split second, trying to think of an answer that doesn’t give away your lack of focus but a single look at Abbey’s arched brows and you know you’ve been caught. 

You clear your throat, lips tugging on a guilty smile. “Sorry, I am now.” 

It’s hard not to let your eyes glimpse to the back of the room, where the sole reason for your distraction sits quietly on his regular spot, tucked behind his journal and doing his own thing. But you hold back the stare, knowing your moves were being watched by your friend who’s back to talking about the setlist changes for the night, and who would not be happy in the slightest to notice your wandering eyes falling on the one person she despises the most. You wonder how she’d react if she got her hands on the piece of paper burning through the back pocket of your denim shorts. 

The message was short and simple, but the connotation behind it carried a much stronger meaning to it.

Meet me in the back before the gig, want to see you. -H

You found it tucked inside your case, lying innocently on top of your bass, apparent enough so anyone who’d opened the case could’ve found it before you. Surely, no one else did, otherwise, you wouldn’t hear the end of it from the minute you’d stepped into the place. Which makes you wonder how he managed to slip in the note sneakily enough without anyone noticing it, but the curiosity is well dulled in your mind by the pounding of your heart.

To your dismay, however, you barely got a look at him throughout the rehearsal. You got to The Blue Bird later than you’d intended to, the tutoring session you had on the day ended up running later than you’d expected. So by the time you stepped through the string curtains of the pub  Harry was already tucked on the shadowy corner and everyone else was hanging by the stage waiting for you, barely giving you a second to set your bag in the dressing room.

So it’s hard for you not to stare when he gets up from his seat, walking into the lighter space of the bar with his signature smirk painted on his face. You’d just gone through the last song of your set for the second time -- an amplified version of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun (Lena insisting on repeating it after messing up on the first try). He’s holding a maroon leather jacket on his arm, along with his journal, leaving his arms bare under his Bowie tank top -- which, as he approaches the stage you notice the uneven hem on the sleeves, suggesting he might’ve cut them off himself.  His hair is running wild as usual, the fringe curling against his forehead and you chew on your lip at the thought of running your hands through it as you did not even a week ago.

He reaches to the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a pack of cigarettes as he reaches the end of the stage. “That was a great one, everybody, maybe if you keep it going we can get you a spot on that wacky show they’re premiering.” He sets the stuff he’s carrying on the stage floor, crossing his arms on top of it. “What’s it called again? ‘S like ‘gag me with a spoon’ or something like that.”

“We wouldn’t want to steal your spot again.” The words leave your lips before you can process them, for a moment forgetting you’re not alone with him so your playful tease can be easily interpreted as mocking. 

He rests the things he’s carrying on his arm on the stage floor, hoisting himself up almost effortlessly before picking them up again, walking the few steps it takes for him to stand in front of you. His lips are tugged on a shit-eating grin. “Got another feisty one in here, huh?” He crosses his arms under his chest, and you can’t help but note the way his muscles flex at the gesture, his tattoos dancing slightly on his skin. “What makes you so smug about stealing my spot? Reckon Ronnie only said he needed more chicks hanging around.”

“If that’s the case then there’s no need for you to be intimidated by a band of chicks, then.” You keep your eyes trained on his, but you can notice Abbey’s getting wider from over his shoulder. 

His lips twitch up, and you can tell he’s holding back a genuine smile as not to crack your act. “Am I intimidated now, bunny?”

“It’s what it looks like.” You shrug, now holding back your own smile.

“Maybe you need to take a better look at things then, angel.”  He starts walking backwards in the direction of the backstage. “Wouldn’t want any more misunderstandings, would we?”

“Don’t think we would.” 

And with that, he turns around, walking the rest of the way out and disappearing as he rounds the corner to where you know it’s the door leading to the back alleyway. You just stand there quietly for a moment, following his steps as you try to recollect what just happened. For the two of you, it was clear that the tension was the product of an unspoken want circling around, but you question for a second if that’s the impression that your friends had. And as you look at their expressions, raised brows and mouths agape, it’s hard to tell.

“Holy shit, babe.” Abbey is the first to speak out. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”

You hold back a relieved exhale, shrugging slightly as you remove the strap of the bass from your shoulder. “He was just getting on my nerves.” You face away from her, placing the instrument on the stand.

The anticipation of meeting Harry grows impatiently on your stomach as you try to find a gap where no one’s attention is on you to sneak out of the dressing room. It seems as if every time you think you can do it, someone pulls you in, either to try to push you another pill of something you’re not sure what it is or to ask you to help with their makeup. But as the room gets filled and people get higher, their focus become more diffuse, and finally, after finishing assisting Jaz with her eyeliner (her hands were too shaky to get it right) you manage to slip out the room into the corridor.

There’s a sense of recognition that takes over your body when you feel the wind messing with your hair as you step out the building to be met with Harry’s figure leaning back on the wall, not too far from the spot you found him the last time you’d been in this same position. His eyes shoot in your direction as soon as you step through the door as if he’d been waiting for this just as eagerly as you were. He quickly throws the butt of the cigarette on the floor, stepping on it before standing tall as you slowly approach him.

“Hi.” You say simply, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shorts -- not knowing with to do with your hands.

“Hi.” His grin grows. “Came back here to intimidate me?” He teases, biting on his bottom lip.

“Actually,” you scrunch your lips, deciding to play his game as you reach on your back pocket, retrieving the small piece of paper and holding it up. “Got this very desperate note from a secret admirer but I don’t see any hotties here.” You click your tongue, looking around as you let out a loud sigh. “Guess it might be just a misunderstanding.”

He laughs, hands reaching for your waist to draw you closer. “That’s too bad, guess you’re stuck with me”

“Yeah?” You wrap your arms around his shoulders, stepping closer so that your chests meet and his forehead falls against yours.

He nods in response, your noses brushing gently before he leans to meet your mouth with his own.

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

There’s a thrilling feeling that settles deep within you when it comes to holding a secret.

It’s that spark of excitement that brings a kaleidoscope of butterflies to come alive on your stomach. The kind of feeling that makes every cell of your body feel not just simply alive but as if it’s burning with joy. Which is why you guess falling into a routine of sneaking around with Harry on secret little rendezvous was so easy, to begin with. 

Of course, your friends’ opinions are important to you, but you know that you’re an adult very much capable of making your own decisions. That means sleeping with anyone you’d like despite their ill opinions about the person, without having to sneak around as if you’re teenagers hiding from your parents. You know that, and you try to remind yourself of that every time you catch yourself lying to them about your whereabouts at every coming day. 

In the beginning, you weren’t even sure that there was anything to it except for a couple of innocent kisses, maybe some not-so-innocent touches here and there, but nothing really worth even telling anyone. You’d only really see Harry on the weekends. When he would steal moments with you before your gigs when you “had to take a breather”. Or when mysteriously disappeared from your friends’ sides during after parties after they already had their minds buzzed and noses backed up. Or even when your night walks would tart becoming gradually longer due to your curiosity getting the best of you once you found yourself in front of the familiar Pub on Harry’s nights.

The weekends’ escapades took a different turn when they graduated to weekdays. Things took a quick turn then. It started with him offering you a ride to the houses for your tutoring or to the library (stealing kisses every now and then, of course). And before you knew, you were making up classes or books to rent for your oblivious roommates, only to spend hours on Harry’s car. Coming back with puffy lips and messy hair.

Part of you felt bad for going behind their backs, every now and then feeling an urge to pull Lena aside and gush about him for as long as your heart desired.

But it’s the thrill of it, of having something that’s just yours to have, that no one else knows except the two of you. The adrenaline that comes with the possibility of getting caught at any moment, but being able to get away with it. It’s almost addicting to you, so you prefer to have these moments just to yourself.

As the days went by, and those days turned into weeks, and those weeks turned into months, it just made it harder for you to tell them you’d been hiding a whole relationship for this amount of time. Well, not exactly a relationship, but as close as you ever got to one anyway.

And it’s not like you’d never had anyone before. Being in the music scene, you’ve had your quite a few amounts of flings — even though not as many as it’s expected. But no one has ever left you as enamored as him, especially not as quickly as he has. He’s intriguing, carrying around that mysterious aura around him that leaves everyone wondering the secrets he holds in his heart. 

Although when it’s just the two of you it’s like this cocky persona of him completely dissolves. It’s a complete contrast from the image he carries around the restless mouths of prying people. He’s not that enigmatic heartbreaker who hops around strangers beds as if to live that classic Rock ‘n Roll lifestyle you see on TV. Rather, he’s shown himself to be the most caring man you’ve ever been with.

And that’s how you found yourself in this position, your body awkwardly positioned on your side in the rear seat of his car. A hand tangled on his hair while the other pulls at his Bowie shirt, you know your lips are probably starting to get swollen and his are taking a raspberry tone from the way they’d been sucking at one another. So with that in mind, you part from his mouth, trailing kisses along his cheek, and a final one at his nose before sitting back on the seat.

Just as you predicted his rose-colored lips are plump as he grins back at you, his locks are wild on top of his head. His hair has grown around his jawline now, curls poking out in all directions and you can’t help but reach your hand to pull his fringe back from his forehead. His smile growing fondly and eyes fluttering shut as you run your hand through his strands. 

When you pull away you catch a glimpse of your wrist clock, cringing slightly at yourself as you realize you should start thinking of heading home.

“I have to go soon.” You let your hand fall to your lap with a sigh.

“Already?” He pouts. “Barely had any time together.”

“We’ve been here for two hours, silly.” You giggle at his dramatics, leaning to press your lips on his chin.

He throws an arm over your shoulder, keeping you close. “Exactly, barely any time.”

He turns his head to connect your mouths once more before pulling you against him so your head rests on his shoulder. You look beyond the glass of the windshield to the nearly empty street -- saving from a few people walking back from what you assume is a day of work

He’s parked on the usual spot two blocks away from your house, and from this angle, you can see the front gate that leads to the entrance. The front seat of the coupe still folded forward as there was no reason to set it back to place considering the circumstance in which you were on the backseat. You had called home from the payphone in front of the library, letting Lena know you’d be home late to catch up with some studies -- another lie to your pile.

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between the two of you -- apart from the low voice of the radio Dj interrupting A-ha’s Take On Me in the background. If you move your head just right you can hear his speeding heartbeat, and if wasn’t for the faltering on his breathing you’d assume he was just as relaxed as you are. You move away from him, his arm falling around your waist, looking at his profile as he pokes at his jeans, a crease between his eyebrows.

You rest your cheek against the leather seat, grasping his chin with your fingers and gently moving his head so his gaze meets yours. “What’s on your mind, handsome?”

He breathes out a laugh, shrugging lightly as he brings his hand to scratch at the tip of his nose. “Nothing much.”

“But there’s something.” You insist, being able to tell he’s pondering over something.

“It’s just-- I just thought--” he pauses with a sigh. You play with the rings on his fingers, waiting patiently for him to express his thoughts, you can tell he’s a bit nervous which is an adorable change from his regular charming demeanor. “I wanted to maybe-- like, we could have a date.”

. 

You straighten your posture, lips parting as you take in his words. “A date?”

“Yeah… A proper one, you know?” He shrugs, eyes darting back on yours. “If you want to, that is! Don’t wanna pressure you or anything.”

“I do, H.” You nod, chewing on your lip as you try to recollect your thoughts. It’s not as if you don’t want to go on a date with him, that couldn’t be further from the truth. But turning it into a formality just changes completely the scheme of things and, as much as you felt like this is an inevitable step to take at some point, you still feel protective to an extent of this secret you have between the two of you. So you can help but let your voice come a little apologetic, “it’s just--”

“I know.” His shoulders drop and you can’t help but feel a tug at your heart.

“Hey.” You caress his cheek. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay.” His lips perk up in a small smile, and you lean forward to give him a peck.

He’s still looking at you with puppy-like eyes and it does nothing to help the heaviness in your heart from turning him down. You lean again this time to spread kisses around his cheek as an attempt to pull a giggle out of him, but you only earn a light chuckle so you seat back tilting your head to look at him with a pluck of your lips. “C’mon where’s my smug rockstar gone?”

“He’s right here.” The shadow of his dimples appears on his cheeks. His voice comes out low and gentle, as if he’s still pondering over what you said earlier, “just toned him down a bit.”

You sigh, trying to rack your brain to another subject that can distract him from it. You catch sight of the slightly smudged end of his eyeliner, and your face lights up as you remember a request you’ve always wanted to bring it up. “Do you want to know something?” Biting back a cheeky grin, you cross your arms under your chin as he looks at you with raised eyebrows. “Should let me do your makeup, so you can be a proper rockstar.”

He lets out a laugh. “Do I need that, now?”

“Mhm, said it yourself, it’s part of the look.”

“Did I say that?” You nod, teeth still biting on your lip. He lets out a breath, contemplating the idea for a second before looking back at you. “Okay then.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Course, could never say no to you even if I tried.” He lets his hand fall on your thigh, rubbing it gently. “On one condition, though.” You arch your brows in question. “Come to my gig tomorrow.”

You face scrunches in confusion. “I always go to your gigs.”

“Yeah but I mean go earlier, like so we can hang out before and stuff.” His finger starts to draw circles on your knee. “So you can do my makeup, too, can go on stage looking all pretty.”

“As if you could ever look anything less than pretty.” You say before sitting back, thinking of his proposal. “You’re asking me to be there early…”

“What? D’you have plans already? Got a boyfriend I don’t know about?” And there it is, the teasing Harry you know.

You shake your head, poking his side playfully. “Oh yeah, maybe I should’ve mentioned him sooner.”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes before looking at you, his voice coming down to a pleading tone. “Come, please.”

Before the yes can roll off your tongue you remember that you wouldn’t be alone with him. “What about your band?” 

He furrows his brows. “What about them?”

“Well, do they know?”

“They couldn’t care less about us, baby.” He sighs, head falling back on the seat as he moves his hand so it rests on your inner thigh, rubbing a spot in there. “Have no meaning hiding you.”

You can’t hold back the smile that grows on your lips, leaning to press a kiss to his mouth before letting professing in just above a whisper, “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“‘S poking my eye.”

“Shh, quiet.”

“You’re rubbing it too harsh.” Harry grabs your wrist, eyes fluttering open to stare up at you.

“I’m being gentle, you’re just not used to the feeling of the brush.” You argue, keeping a finger under his chin so his head is tilted upwards as you shuffle on his lap. “Now close your eyes, I’m almost done.”

He lets out a huff, trying to feign annoyance, but the slight twitch of his lips and the subtle appearance of his dimples break his facade. You know as much as he won’t admit to it, he’s quite enjoying having you propped on his lap, fingers stroking gently his eyelids while you hum along to The Cure’s record that’s mixing with the murmurs of the other people in the room.

To your surprise, you’ve come to realize that the dressing room is significantly less chaotic when it comes to Harry’s band. The place is not nearly as packed as it can get during your nights, in fact, apart from the band itself, there’s only a handful of people hanging around. And as much as you notice their bloated pupils and stumbled walks, they mostly keep it to themselves, sharing around a bottle of vodka to wash down their pills.

Like Harry had assured you, his bandmates couldn’t be less bothered by your presence amongst them. And as much as you recognize all from the numerous gig you’ve been in before, and that according to them your name has been frequently mentioned by Harry himself (which did make his cheeks turn into an adorable shade of red), it’s nice to be formally introduced to them. In fact, they were so quick to treat you as one of their own that you could feel a slightly guilty feeling expanding on your chest from the number of times you’d heard your friends bad mouthing them in attempts to joke around. 

You swallowed the feeling back, though, accepting a plastic cup they poured with champagne (which you learned is a tradition before gigs) and making a conversation.

“Are you done yet?” You feel the vibration of his voice on that back of your fingers that touch against his throat.

“Yes,” you say with a final stroke of your brush on his eyes, sitting back to admire your work with your teeth carved on your bottom lip. “You can open your eyes, baby.”

He blinks his eyes open and you can’t help the smile that breaks through your lips as you examine the contrast of the burning red eyeshadow with his jade irises as he looks back at you. “How do I look?” 

You grab his cheeks, leaning down to press a quick peck on his lips. “Like a proper rockstar.”

“Yeah?” He grins once you let your hands caress on the smooth skin of his chest poking through his unbuttoned blue blouse. “Think I can finally get some groupies now?”

Scoffing, you swing your hand to shove him back playfully with a roll of your eyes. You try to move away but he grabs hold of your wrists, pulling you in again. “You’re insufferable.”

“Just how you like it.” His hands fall to your waist, bringing it closer as you let your arms wrap around his shoulders. 

His lips meet your on a slow kiss, allowing you to taste the strawberry flavor of the lipstick you’d applied earlier, the thought of messing it completely lost in your mind as you tilt your head to deepen it even more. His fingers now grip on your hips over your denim skirt that has ridden up considerably since you first propped yourself on his lap. For a moment you just stay like this, tangled on each other’s arms, every so often you scratch on his neck, pulling his hair just a bit so you can swallow the most delicious mewls.

He parts from you as slowly as the kiss started, pecking on your lips a couple of times before letting his head fall back, hands moving to rub at your thighs over your pink tights. His eyes are hooded as he looks up at you with a smirk, voice coming low as if he’s sharing a secret just between the two of you, “can we go to the back?”

“Sure.” You unstranddle him, adjusting your skirt as you stand up and offering your hands to help him to his feet. He takes them, almost bringing you back down on the couch as he pulls a little bit too hard. 

Once he’s up he takes a look at himself on the mirror in the wall opposite to the couch, a pleased smile on his face letting you know he likes the result of your work. He reaches for your hand then, guiding you into the hallway and out the back door you’ve become so familiar with.

Walking into the alleyway, he walks to his usual spot, leaning back on the wall and pulling you with him. His hands easily find their place on your waist once again, fingers tapping against the fabric of your skirt anxiously. Looking down at you, there’s anticipation on his eyes, as if he’s trying to tell you something but is waiting for you to bring it up.

“So,” he begins, eyes darting around as he parts his legs a bit, enough to fit you between them as he pulls you closer.

“So…” You say, drifting off as a way to encourage him to keep going.

“I’ve thought about the date thing.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his har. “Wasn’t I the one that was supposed to be doing that?”

 He shrugs slightly, looking down to where his fingers fiddle with a loose strand of your vest. There’s something very endearing about seeing him so nervous, a complete opposite to how he carries himself in public, as this cocky and confident guy. You’re grateful that he allows you to see this side of him, though, bringing your hand to caress his jawline as you wait him to speak his thoughts. “Yeah, but I had like, an idea, or whatever.”

“Do tell.”

“I thought we could do--” he shakes his head a bit. “We could go to a place that’s still more reserved, and stuff.” 

“Like?”

“I dunno, I--” he chews on his lip, a habit he’s starting to get from you. “Thought we could go to my flat and like hang out, we could go to that diner that has a drive tru and get something to eat and go back to my place.” 

“Are you trying to take me home, Styles?” You tease, not being able to hold back a smile.

“It’s not like that, I just--” he huffs, cheeks getting a bit flushed as he tries to explain himself. “Just if you’re comfortable with it, of course, we can still go around on my car if you prefer, I don’t mind.”

“Harry?” You hold his cheek, moving it so his eyes can meet yours. Rubbing your thumb against his smooth skin, you try to soothe him, shooting him a fond smile.  “I think that’s a really nice idea.”

“Yeah?” You don’t miss the way his eyes light up. “Is that a yes, then?”

“Of course.”

“Cool, I can, like, call you before I leave home so you can go to our spot and I can pick you up, yeah?” It’s the fastest he’s speaking since the moment you walked out of the building, voice a pitch higher. “How about Friday?

“Great.” You giggle, tangling your fingers on his hair to pull him down so his forehead rests against yours. Lips brushing, you blink up at him, jade eyes flickering around your face, “I can’t wait.”

He smiles. “Me too.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

An annoyed puff leaves your lips as you notice another typo in one of the words inked in the paper poking out of the typewriter. You grab it maybe a bit too forcefully, this being the fourth time in a matter of minutes you had to do this. Taking it out of the platen, you reach for the whiteout conveniently prompted next to you, carefully correcting the error before putting the paper back on the machine.

With the end of the term peeking around the corner, you’ve been finding yourself in this position more often than not. Either rushing with your essays or grading assignments from your students. No matter what the arrangement is, however, there’s always a guarantee to have a half-empty mug of coffee and a pile of textbooks spattered on your desk. 

This time around is no different, as you lean back on your chair, closing your eyes and rubbing your hands over your face, you try to focus on Cyndi Lauper singing in the background as a way to relieve your stress. You can feel the inkling of a headache deep inside your forehead, indicating maybe it’s time to give yourself a break, So, you try your best to relax the tension out of your muscles, breathing in the soft chamomile scent of the burning candle on your nightstand -- it’s one Lena gave to you to help with the stress a few days ago. What disturbs you from your moment of meditation with Time After Time, making you snap out of your breathing exercise, is the ringing tone of the telephone echoing through the house. The sound comes into your room a bit muffled thanks to your closed door, but it’s still enough to irritate you.

You hear closely to the sounds outside your door, waiting for Lena, who you know is propped on the couch downstairs watching TV, to pick up the call and cease the annoying tune interrupting your moment. And as you predict, in just a few minutes the ringing noise stops as quickly as it started, making you relax back on your chair. Closing your eyes again, you let yourself go back to the moment before the interruption, untensing your shoulders. You can hear the pound of heavy footsteps coming up the wooden staircase, but don’t process them getting closer until your door swings open.

Lena is standing in your doorway with an expression that’s hard to read at first, her brows set on a slight frown her hairline and mouth agape. Before you can tell her off for her sudden entrance she’s already speaking, “can you tell me why the fuck Harry Styles is calling our house looking for you?”

You can feel your heartbeat falter at her words, eyes widening as you glance at your bunny-shaped clock and realizing you had gotten so lost in your studies you forgot about the date. “Shit,” you get up so fast from your chair it falls back on the rug. You turn to Lena, who’s watching the scene with the most amused smirk on her face, “is he still one the line?”

As soon as she nods you’re stumbling down the stairs, almost falling down on the last steps but catching yourself up on the railing. You reach for the wired phone lying upwards on the hallway stand, picking it up and walking into the closest door - which happens to be the coat closet - closing it behind you.

“Hello?” You sound out of breath, heartbeat roaring in your ear.

“Did I fuck it up?” His voice is hesitant, nearly remorseful, it makes your heart drop.

“I-- no, you didn’t.” You reassure, leaning back on the wall of the tiny space, instantly regretting your decision of not choosing the restroom in your panic state.  “I just got caught up with an essay and didn’t see the time passing.”

“Do you want to reschedule?” He drags out the words as if he doesn’t want to say them. “We can do this another day, I don’t mind.”

“No!” You protest quickly, reaching back to roughly adjust a hanger that’s poking on your neck, causing a raincoat to fall on your feet. “Of course not, I really need a break, anyway. I want to see you.”

“Want to see you, too.” You can hear the smile on his voice. “What about your friend?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple slightly. “I’ll talk to her, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.” He says. “I’ll be at yours in around fifteen, is that good?”

“That’s perfect, yes.”

“I’ll see you in a bit then…” He drifts off, as if he wants to say something else, but stops himself.

“See you.”

The familiar sound of the deadline takes place and you sigh, letting your head fall back on the wall with a thump and staying like that for a moment. When you step out of the closet, the first thing you see is Lena leaning against the railing of the stairs, shaking her head at you in disbelief. “You bitch.”

Your shoulders drop, not wanting to have this conversation right now, as you put the phone back on the base. “Can we not do this--”

“You’ve been fucking him all this time and you didn’t tell me?” She crosses her arms under her breasts. “Abbey is gonna throw a fit when she knows this.”

“You’re not gonna tell her.”

“I’m not.” She agrees with you. “But she already knows you’re sneaking out with someone.”

“She does?” Your voice gets higher, eyes widening slightly.

“She might be high as a kite most of the time, yes, but she’s not stupid.” She chuckles. “And you’re not the best at hiding either, or you thought we wouldn’t notice you’re barely at home anymore?”

You frown your mouth, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. “Does she suspect that it’s him?”

“Not really no, thought it was one of your students.”

You can’t help the horrified look that takes over your face. “I tutor children!”

“Ooh,” she breathes out a laugh. “Well, to be fair, he’s probably the last person she would suspect.”

“She’s gonna kill me.”

“Probably.” She shrugs. “But she’ll just have to get over it.”

“I guess.”

Lena looks at you, dropping her arms as she walks to you. Holding into your shoulders, her expression softens. “Don’t worry about this right now, okay? Go get ready for your date.”

“You’re right.”  You sigh, nodding. It takes you a second, but as you process her words, you frown, squinting your eyes at her. “How do you know we have a date right now?”

Her hands drop, mouth scrunching as she waves her hands around. “I just guessed.”

“Were you listening on the line?’

“Of course not!” She steps away.

“Adeline!”

She backs away, reaching the bottom of the stairs with the guiltiest look you’ve ever seen splattered on her face. “It was just a bit of it! I was curious!”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I’m gonna cut the cord of that phone in your room.”

“No, you’re not.” 

Raising your eyebrows in challenge, you take a careful step in her direction, causing her to go up another step. There’s a beat of silence where you two just stare at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. When you finally give in, racing towards the staircase, she stumbles up the rest of the steps, the sound of your giggles mixing together taking over the space.

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

There’s an instant sense of comfort when you see Harry’s lime green Ford parked on your usual spot, one that gives an extra pep to your walk, pushing all the stress you’ve been dwelling with to the back of your mind. And as you relax into the leather seat, windows down and radio up, you let yourself enjoy the anticipation of spending the rest of your day with him that settles deep in your stomach. 

You’d always wondered what Harry’s apartment would look like, imagining his LP’s splattered across the place, along with loose papers filled with guitar riffs and song lyrics. Maybe a couple of plants here and there, from what he told you he had tried to take care of one or two before, but always ended up forgetting to water them on schedule. And there’s also a notion inside of you that two young men living together in an apartment are bound to live in somewhat of a nest, so you brace yourself for the piles of beer cans and video game wires tangling on the floor.

When he opens the front door for you, letting you walk in before him, it does surprise you to find a tidier place than you’d expected his living room to be, but you realize you’d not been much far off with your assumption. It’s clear this is a house of musicians from the second you step in, the first sight being two guitars leaning on the wall next to the mud green couch, surrounded by - you guessed it - loose papers, which you assume are filled with scribbled ideas. A wall piano also stands out across the room, a single ashtray standing on top of it next to two candles, where you assume comes the faint scent of vanilla comes from.

“Sorry about the mess,” Harry speaks out from behind you, shrugging out of his usual denim jacket and throwing it over the couch arm, looking back at you with his hands on his hips.

“It’s alright.” Your teeth sink on your bottom lip as you take in the sight of him. Without his jacket, he’s left with just a wine-colored half-buttoned blouse, sleeves rolled up to his elbows so some of his tattoos are exposed. Part of the hem is tucked inside his low waist jeans that hug his thighs so perfectly it makes you want to grip your nails on it. Shaking your head, lightly, you let your eyes wander around the room once more, so he doesn’t notice you gawking at him. “Was expecting worse, to be honest.”

“Do you think that little of me?” He feigns offense.

You giggle, taking a lazy step towards him, shrugging. “I just don’t expect two young men to know the basic of cleaning, that’s all.”

“That’s fair,” he chuckles, taking a moment to just look at you. When a silence settles between the two of you, you raise your brows at him, waiting for him to make the first move. He clears his throat, running his hand through his hair. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Sure!” You nod. “Do you have, like, beer or…”

“Yes, yes I--” he stops, face lighting up in realization. “No wait, I have something better.” He strides towards a door to where you assume the kitchen is, calling over his shoulder, “make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back!”

You laugh to yourself, shaking your head as you pull your purse off your shoulder, letting it rest beside Harry’s jacket on the couch. Glancing over your shoulder, there are no signs of him coming back, so you take the opportunity to snoop around the area. 

There’s a small center table in front of the couch, probably the messiest part of the room so far, a few movie magazines splattered around with another ashtray lying on top of it, a few butts of cigarettes long forgotten along with their ashes. Next to it, is a VHS cover of </i> Ghostbusters, a rental receipt paper scrambled on top of it. What calls your attention is a couple of cassette tapes, some with titles you recognize from being Harry’s songs scribbled on top of them but others don’t have a label, which leads you to assume they must be blank. 

You walk around the table, gazing to the tv stand, where a poster of Freud is stuck on the wall behind it -- and breathing out a laugh as you notice someone had drawn glasses and colored his beard with a red sharpie. A bookshelf stands next to it, completely filled with records (apart from a single succulent that has a piece of paper with the name “Ziggy” glued to it). Your curiosity gets the best of you, picking up some LPs on random and what does surprise you, is the lack of a common theme between them. Finding a bit of everything, from some very recognizable names you’ve seen Harry rock to, like Billy Joel and The Clash, to some you’d never even heard him speak of like Culture Club and even a brand new Madonna record.

You have just picked up the cover of Ladies of the Canyon when his voice startles you from behind. “Mitchell, huh?”

Turning back with the record still in hands, you look down at it. “I love her.” You glance up, taking notice of the glasses in his hand, filled with a liquid of a yellow so bright it reminds you of a highlighter. “What’s this?”

“This,” he hands you a glass. “Is a drink we made.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “You made this?”

 “I’m a man of many talents, bunny.”

“It looks like poison.” You bring the glass up to your nostrils, taking in the strong scent of alcohol. “Am I going to be poisoned? Is this a big plan to get rid of your rival’s bassist?”

“Stop being silly.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s mainly pineapple and vodka, takes weeks to be done, proper fancy stuff, you know?”

“Oh yeah super fancy.” You tease, chewing on your bottom lip to hold back a smile.“Pineapple and vodka.”

“Shut up and drink it.” He says, watching you carefully as you slowly bring the brim of the glass to your lips, taking a small sip of it. An instant sweet taste of pineapple invading your tastebuds, but the vodka is so present it makes you scrunch your nose. Harry gives you a small smile, eyes trained on you as he waits for your verdict, “so…”

“It’s strong.” Your face is still a bit rumpled from the alcohol, but you relax it eventually taking another sip of it, this time quite more prepared for it. “But it’s good, tastes like pineapple and vodka, who would say?”

“Shut up.” He chuckles, taking a step back and propping himself down on the couch.

With the record still in hands, you turn to put it back where you found it, admiring the full bookshelf once more. “Got a nice collection here, Styles, I gotta admit.”

He sips on his drink. “Found something you fancy in there?”

“A couple.”

“Put on something you like.” He motions to the record player standing next to the shelf. You look through the vast collection again, picking some at random and putting it back once you realize it’s not what you’re looking for. After going through a few, you finally stumble upon Elton John’ Madman Across The Water, holding it up to show it to Harry. “Oh, so we’re in one of those moods?”

You pull the vinyl from the sleeve, carefully placing it on the player and adjusting the needle over it. As the beginning note of Tiny Dancer float through the room, you look back at him. “What mood?”

 “Like, a happy-sad kind of mood.”

You nod, setting yourself on the couch next to him. “That’s a nice way to put it.”

As the first few songs swim in the air around there’s a light chatter that settles between the two of you. Nothing out of your ordinary conversations, mainly consisting of you gushing over John Taylor as Harry rolls his eyes and sips on his drink to mask the drop of jealousy that grows on his chest -- “He’s not that good looking, you lot should have better standards” he said with a huff, making you giggle at his antics and pinch his cheeks. But it doesn’t take long, barely going halfway through the record, until the two of you begin to feel more lightheaded, eyes glossy and tongues getting looser. You should’ve expected that from the very first sip of the drink in your hand, knowing it wouldn’t take much more than a glass of it to get you right boozed up. And it doesn’t help that which each sip of it the sweetness of the pineapple takes over the strong taste of the alcohol, and in a matter of a few songs, you already feel your mind soaring away.

Harry is not much different, you realize, becoming quite a bit of a giggly drunk as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes and slurred words coming out of his mouth (which only makes him laugh more at himself). From what he told you, it hasn’t been the first time he and Mitch attempted on making the drink themselves. They tried it at a cramped bar right outside a Tears For Fears concert and it had gotten them so knackered so quickly they went back the next day to ask the barman (who also happened to be the owner) what was it in. Turns out it was just watermelon and vodka, but the man also explained that the technique he used that took about two weeks for the drink to be ready. From the man’s explanation, it seemed simple enough so they decided to try it for themselves, except they replaced the watermelon with pineapple.

“Just to add a bit of fun to it.” He shimmies his body.

“Is it like the original, though?” 

“‘S close, but not quite his.” He hiccups. “I’m convinced he left out some of the details, the bastard, didn’t want to go around giving out the secret formula of it.”

You giggle, biting into the brim of your glass. “I’m curious to try it with watermelon, now that you’ve mentioned.”

“You have to, bunny!” His head falls back on the couch, dimples so deep you want to bite into them, his hand strokes lazily on your thigh, every now and then moving up to rub at the hem of your playsuit. “I’ll take you there sometime, we can get baked and crash into a concert at the music house that’s right in front of it.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

When the blue of the sky outside begins to fade into a golden glow, ribbons of pink and orange cutting through it, you’re already completely far gone. The record player is now only letting out a faint buzz from the lack of sound now that the LP is over. Your head is filled with clouds and you don’t register when Harry reaches back for the guitar, only really registering it once he’s stringing out a familiar melody. He stumbles with the lyrics but as soon as you recognize the beginning line of </i> Big Yellow Taxi you’re joining him, your voices tangling in a high pitch as you more of scream the lines than really bother to sing it. Harry gets completely lost in it, and you let him take over every so often just to watch him, mimicking Joni Mitchell's voice and even enacting her laugh, which makes you laugh until your belly hurts and your cheeks get flushed.

It’s one of those moments you want to get locked in, to live in it forever. Watching him stumbling the lyrics of different songs, the words tumbling out of his mouth between giggles, fingers stroking the cord of the guitar maybe a bit too harshly as you join him without a care in the world to who may be bothered by it. You feel so free with him, it’s a feeling that takes over your whole body, a warmth of knowing you don’t have to filter yourself or fit any type of expectation. And as he ends another cover with violent strokes on the guitar you laugh along with him for a moment before letting the room quiet down. Crossing your arms over the back of the couch and resting your cheek against it, you just look at him.

His bloodshot green meets yours, his chest rising as he catches his breath from the frantic songs, teeth sinking on his bottom lip as he smiles at you. “Gonna slow down a bit fo’ you.”

You raise your brows at him, smiling in anticipation as he begins to smooth his fingers through the cords much more gently than he had been previously. His head moves along to the beat as he gazes down at the instrument, a slight crease forming between his eyebrows in concentration. It’s a complete contrast from the playful demeanor that had taken over the room just minutes ago.

“Love of my life, you’ve hurt me.” He begins, and your ears instantly perk up as you identify the same song you’d heard him play months ago at the pub, the one that made you enter it to watch him for the first time. “You’ve broken my heart and now you leave me.”

It’s much different now, however, not just from the fact that he’s singing it on his own without the band backing him up. But it’s the meaning behind it, the rawness of his voice, low and slightly raspy, the words still come out a bit mumbled but you couldn’t care less about it, only focusing on the emotion he puts to them. 

“Love of my life, can’t you see?” His eyes are still set on the guitar and you search for them almost desperately, shifting closer to him and cupping his cheek, guiding him to meet your gaze. “Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me.”

The swell in your heart is overwhelming to an extent, his glossy eyes looking into your with such sincerity it makes you want to jump on him, but you hold back as he keeps going, feeling nearly hypnotized by his voice.

“Because you don’t know, what it means to me.” He leans into your touch, turning to press a quick kiss on your palm as he keeps stroking the chords in a quiet melody. “Love of my life, don’t leave me.”

You can’t help but shake your head slightly as he sings the lyric almost like a plea. “You’ve stolen my love, and now desert me.” He looks back down at the guitar, letting your hand fall to his shoulder. “Love of my life, can’t you see?”

“Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me.” Peeking under his lashes, he grins up at you, and you can only imagine how you must look to him. Mouth slightly agape, barely blinking as you’re scared if you do this will all turn out to be nothing but a dream. His voice comes out next a bit lower, stretching out the words, “Because you don’t knoow.”

He strokes the chords a bit mindlessly now, playing with the sound of the melody, and he does it so effortlessly you almost hold your breath as not to miss it. “What it means to me.”

When he stops, you don’t really think before latching yourself on him, throwing one leg on each side of his thighs, and cupping his face before meeting his mouth with yours. He immediately wraps an arm around your back, his other hand taking the guitar off his lap and blindly placing it against the wall next to the couch. Once the instrument is no longer a barrier, he places his hands on your hips, pulling you closer. You can taste the memory of a pineapple still lingering on his tongue as you lick into his mouth. The kiss is hungry, maybe a bit sloppy thanks to the substance still very much present in your bloodstreams, but you don’t mind, only moving a hand to tangle on his hair, scratching at his scalp before pulling at his roots. 

A whimper escapes from his mouth, getting lost inside your throat, his grip on your thighs tightens, nails digging in it and you know will leave crescent shapes on your skin. It only makes you do it again, this time his head tilting backward with a small groan, disconnecting your lips, but you’re soon to connect it again, splattering kisses along his jawline until it meets his neck. When you suck on his pulse point, running your tongue over it, his skin vibrates on your lips as he lets out a whine. His hands are now running all over your thighs before resting on top of your ass, bringing your hips to grind against his.

Even with your hazed mind, it’s still hard to miss the very prominent bulge under his jeans. It makes you pull back, looking down to see it straining against his zipper. There’s a flip of a switch inside of you when you realize how much he’s yearning for it, it’s the desire you’ve been pushing back for months now, crashing into you like a wave and you can barely contain a small mewl at the sight.

“Bunny.” He breathes out. When you look back to him, you notice his eyes have darkened considerably. “We don’t have to--”

“Please.” You let your forehead fall against his, rolling your hips again, stealing another whimper from him. “If you want to, I want to.”

“I do -- fuck, I do.” He nods as you keep grinding on him, his hand disappearing on your back pocket, trying to get as closer to you as possible.

When you meet his lips again, the kiss is somehow eager than before. The longing is evident as you grab onto each other. Your hands travel down his chest, nails digging softly on his exposed skin, and once you feel the fabric of his shirt, you’re quickly to undo the rest of the buttons, not disconnecting from him as you do so. Smoothing your hands back up to his shoulders, you help him shrug off the material, letting it fall to the couch without paying mind to it.

“Wait,” he sneaks between kisses, hands coming up to your waist you push you off gently.

You watch with your brows narrowed as he gets up from the couch, walking to his shelf and standing in front of it, looking for something. Leaning to your side, you let yourself admire the muscles of his back as his fingers run through the edges of the records. It’s impressive how even though his collection takes over the whole furniture, he still seems to know exactly where to look for it, focusing on a small section right at the top. He quickly finds what he’s looking for, pulling it with a ‘Aha!’ before turning back to you. 

He holds up a very familiar black cover, the imprint of Queen’s Greatest Hits instantly calling your attention. Doing the same as you’d done earlier, he takes out the disk, placing it on the player before adjusting the needle over it. You watch it with a smile teasing on your lips, finding oddly endearing how he made you pull away from him with the sole purpose of putting on a soundtrack -- making notice to put on something you’d like, as well. He cranks up the volume as the first words of Bohemian Rhapsody start to swallow your thoughts, turning back to you and offering his hand with a cheeky grin painted on his face.

Taking his hold, you let him pull you up from the couch and, before you can really register it, he’s guiding you through the hallway. You stumble on your footing as he rushes a bit to fast for you to really wrap your head around it, the walls of the corridor passing by almost in a blur as it takes your mind a beat too long to catch up with your eyes. Still, your giggles dance along with his all the way to his door at the end of it, making you feel like a couple of teens sneaking out for the first time.

He doesn’t give you a single minute to take notice of his room -- not that you would at this moment, your arousal pooling at your underwear only enhancing the haziness of your mind. In just a speck of a second, he’s already pushing the door closed, your body being pressed against it not long after. His arms find their place on each side of your head, his lips searching hungrily for yours as your fingers find their home between the strands of his hair once more. 

“Shit, need you so bad, baby.” he presses his hips against yours, mouth hot as he sucks in the skin of your jaw, all the way down your neck, finding a spot that makes you whine under his touch. “That’s it, darling, let me hear you again.”

“Harry,” you mewl as his teeth sink on your skin gently, his tongue swiping quickly over the spot before he trails back to your cheek. You melt under his touch when his hands find their way back on your body, one of them caressing the side of your breast softly, thumb poking out to rub the spot where you nipple pebbles under your layers of clothing. This brings out a desperate whimper from your throat, your head falling back on the door as you close your eyes, trying to savor every slight touch of his. “Please.”

“Look so fucking pretty in this piece, bunny.” The sound of his voice is right below your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin making the hairs on your neck rise. “Look gorgeous in anythin”” he turns his head to bite at your earlobe. “But I really need it gone right now.”

Your eyes snapback open when you feel him pull back from you, his hands finding the front buttons of your playsuit, fiddling them open so easily you barely register it. His lips are back on yours, this time slower, letting his desire be known at every brush of his tongue. Smoothing his hands on your shoulders, he helps you out of the sleeves of the top. As soon as your back is disconnected from the wooden door, you start moving forward before you can really think about it, pushing him back gently until the back of his knees hit the mattress and he’s sitting back on the bed.

There’s hardly a speck of green left on his darkened irises when he looks up at you, watching your every move as you shift the material down your body, letting it pool on your feet before you kick it to the side. Taking a slow step towards him, his hands holding onto your hips almost unconsciously, you reach back to find the hook of your bra, but he stops you before you can even quite grasp it. “Wait,” he pulls you closer, making you fall a bit awkwardly on his lap, your hands moving to grip on his shoulder for support. “Let me.”

You adjust your position on top of him, your knees resting next to his thighs, as he handily unhooks your bra, removing it quickly from your arms and tossing it to the side. A gasp escapes your mouth as he wastes no time before attaching his mouth to your breast, tongue circling on your nipple before sucking in. His hand tries to give the same attention to the other one, grasping onto it as his thumb caresses the pebbled nub.

The crescendo of the song comes muffled in the background and it’s as if it’s echoing inside your head while you mindlessly roll your hips against his. The motion makes the lining of his zipper rub deliciously against your clit under the thin fabric of your underwear, and it reminds you of his hardening length pressing on his jeans. It seems to remind him as well, as his mouth parts from your chest in a groan, his lips licking at the space between your breast, kissing all the way back to your neck, where he hides his face with a strangled moan when you grind down a bit harder.

“Can’t take the tease, baby.” He pants. “Need you right fucking now.”

You pull back from him, gazing down at the tent on his pants and bringing your hands to fiddle with his belt. It takes you a bit longer to manage to pull it out, as his eager lips attack your neck once again. At this point, you can only imagine the marks he’s made on your skin, knowing the reddened spots will soon come to a purple shade, but it’s the least of your worries as you pop the button of his jeans, opening up the zipper. 

“Stand up just for a sec, darling.” He taps on your hip and you do as he asks, stepping back to plant your feet on the floor.

He shifts out of his pants, bringing his briefs along with it and you watch the way his cock all but jumps out of its restrains, slapping back on his stomach. The tip is a reddened shade darker, a trace of precum already oozing out of it, dripping down his length and making you rub your thighs for some sort of relief as you feel your mouth watering. You want to reach for it, grasp it as you feel it throb on your palm. You want to trace the prominent veins adorning it with your tongue and discover all the sounds he makes when he’s all but begging for you to wrap you mouth around it already. But more than anything, and what speaks louder to you at the moment, is how you want to feel it deep in your belly, rubbing against your walls until your legs shake.

“My eyes are up here, love.” You look up at him, a smug grin on his face as he draws you in by your hips.

“Can’t help it.” You watch his fingers play with the waistband of your cherry colored underwear, meeting his eyes as you let yourself mess with him a bit. “Just have such a beautiful cock.”

“Christ.” He groans, yanking your panties down your leg, making your arousal drip down your thighs. His lips immediately trace on your pubic bone, hands travelling to grip on your ass as his teeth sink into your skin slowly. “Didn’t know you were this filthy, bunny.”

You enlace your fingers on his strands, pushing his fringe away from his forehead as you mount him again. “Only for you.”

“All for me? What did I do to deserve you?” He smiles, pecking your lips and pulling your closer so you can feel his cock poking at your stomach. “Why don’t you lie down for me?”

You shake your head, pushing his shoulders back gently until his back hits the mattress. “You lie down.”

“Shit, baby, gonna sit on my cock?” He shifts back just slightly, watching you sit back on his thigh as you grab his length, giving it an experimental pump that makes his breath audibly hitch. “Fuck-- such a good girl, aren’t ya?”

You chew on your bottom lip, flickering your palm over the tip and collecting a bit of the precum before rubbing it once more. He lets out a strangled moan, head tilting back on the mattress, his curls splattered around him like a halo. Which is an ironical contrast to what you’re doing to him. 

His voice comes out in a breathy, chest moving frantically as he peeks down at you when you give him another slow pump. “Please, darling, don’t torture me right now, need you so bad.”

If it were another occasion you wouldn’t listen to him, simply continuing your teasing as if he hadn’t said anything at all. But right now you can feel your wetness pooling where you sit on his thigh as you all but throb for him at the sight of his angry cock in your hand. It’s just as much torture to you as it is to him to keep this going any longer, so you just shift up, gabbing his base and rubbing it along your folds one, two, three times, before finally aligning it with your entrance.

His nails dig on your thighs in anticipation, his eyes watching with barely a blink as you slowly sink down. Your mouth hangs open but nothing except a choked gasp comes out of it. There’s a delicious burn that comes with him slowly spreading you open for him, and when you fully sit down your eyes are teary and can’t help but clench around him, earning a full moan in response.

“So fucking tight.” He pants, chest moving up as he takes a sharp inhale when you clench again. “So wet too, baby, drenching me.”

“Fuck, Harry.” You lean forward, hands lying on each side of his torso as you pull up the tiniest bit just to sink down again.

You want to start slow, gradually fastening your pace but you can’t seem to hold yourself back. As his hands grasp on your hips you start to bounce on him at a hard pace, your moans meshing together as well as the faint vocals blasting outside the closed door. Rolling your hips on his, he hits spot that makes you sit on your heels again as you throw your head back, crying out his name. 

It’s hard to keep focus as you mind is blurry from the pleasure that takes over every cell of your body as well as the alcohol still running freely on your bloodstream. All you can focus on right now is Harry. It’s his hands gripping on your skin, helping you fasten your pace. It’s the sound of his voice pitching on a needy whimper, telling you how good you feel around him. It’s the sight of his face creased in pleasure when you look down at him, the veins staining his neck and his locks sticking to his damp forehead, cheeks rosy and lips plump. He’s the only thing in your mind as you chant his name under your breath like a quiet prayer.

“Is my cock that good, bunny?” He meets your thrusts with his hips, making you sob out a moan. His lips tug on a smirk, “Look at you helping you helping yourself out on my cock -- fuck, look like a proper dream.”

There’s a familiar tightness in your stomach, one that makes your toes curl and your rhythm falters. “I’m almost there, shit.”

“Won’t last much longer too, baby, feel too good.” He groans holding your hips in place when you stumble on your pace again, deciding to thrust upwards, your pelvis meeting in loud smacks. “Gonna cum for me? Gonna let me see you looking all pretty when you cum all over my cock?”

“Harry, please.” You’re not even sure what you’re asking for, your eyes closing as you roll back your head. A trifling cramp is starting to set on the back of your thighs but you barely pay any mind to it as the bliss takes over your whole body. You’re so close to your high you can almost reach it, just needing a small push.

“C’mon, baby.” Harry urges you, hand reaching where you’re connected to rub at your clit harshly.

And that’s all you needed, opening your eyes as a couple tears fall down your face when you feel your orgasm taking over you body, the white ceiling feeling far away like an imagine you watch on the television. You’re not exactly sure when Killer Queen started playing, but as the waves of euphoria hit your body, you can hear the guitar solo ringing in your ears, the crescendo of the song only enhancing the thrill of your high as you ride your orgasm along with it.

You practically collapse  down on his chest, his hot skin sticking to your body. He’s still panting under you, warm breath hitting your neck as he holds onto your ass, his thrusts coming sloppier as he comes right after you. The sensitivity of your center makes you whine along with his strangled moans when he holds his hips to yours,burying himself in you as he paints your walls white.

For a moment you just stay like this, cheek resting on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat slowing down by the minute blending with the music coming from outside the closed door. His fingertips trace patterns on your bare arm that’s hugging his torso and keeping him close. You can feel your mind getting clearer, not just from the alcohol but from the high of your orgasm. And as the sound of the soft wind knocks against the window glass, you’re almost lulled to sleep just like this. 

Harry shifts slightly, you feel his lips pressing on your head before he carefully moves to sit up, letting you fall back on the bed gently. “Mind if I have a smoke, bunny?”

You give him a lazy smile, shaking your head as you look up at him, reaching for his locks that poke wildly on his head. Leaning down, he gives you a quick peck before getting up. Turning to your side, you watch as he looks around the room, finding his briefs thrown by the end of the bed and quickly putting them back on. He grabs the pack of cigarettes along with his lighter and heads towards the window.

Opening up the window, allowing the evening breeze to slip through the crack and dance around the room, he pulls a chair leaning on the wall to sit directly by it. The chair is stacked with colored cushions on top of it - one yellow, one red, and one blue - he throws two of them thoughtlessly on the floor next to it, adjusting the remaining one on his back as he leans down to sit on it. The stool is low enough so he can relax his feet on it comfortably, fingers fiddling with the lighter for a second before rising it to meet the end of the cigarette resting between his lips. Freddie Mercury still sings loudly in the living room, the sound coming a bit muffled thanks to the closed door, but making it as background noise as you come quiet to admire his figure against the last creeks of sunlight hitting the side of his profile.

You chew on your lip at the scene, wishing you could record it somehow and play it every night before falling asleep. There’s something inherently erotic about having him smoke a cigar just on his underwear, humming along to the tune of the song, right after having you scream his name into his pillow. 

The light streak of wind coming from the window breaks you out of your thoughts, making goosebumps rise on your skin as you come to the realization that you’re still sitting naked in his bed. It doesn’t take long for you to find your panties hanging from the edge of the mattress, picking them up to quickly slide them up your legs before you get up to search for your other articles of clothing. You can see the colorful pattern of your playsuit lying next to the closed door, but as you crouch to pick it up something else catches your attention in the pile of clothes thrown around mindlessly on top of a wooden chest

It’s the pink shirt. The same one he wore on the day you first saw him play.

A grin takes over your face as you pick it up, throwing it over your shoulders and sliding your hand on the sleeves. It has the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering smell of cigarettes, something you’ve come to associate with him. You don’t bother to button up the material, letting it hug your body as you take a quick look at yourself in the full-body mirror leaning on the wall in front of you. You turn to him, his eyes still focused on the view outside, a thin coat of smoke leaving his lips and getting lost in the breeze, so you clear your throat as to get his attention.

He looks at you, eyes shamelessly scanning down your body and you’re afraid the cig will fall from his lips as they grow on a smug smirk. 

“Look at you,” he lets his feet fall from the stool, fixing them on the floor as he motions for you to get close. You approach him without a second thought, climbing on his lap as his hands hold onto your hips. He takes another look at you, grasping the cigarette with his fingers and taking out of his lips. Reaching for your face, his thumb caresses the side of your eyelid gently. “Looking like a proper rockstar now, even got the smudged makeup.”

You giggle. “That’s more your fault than mine.”

“I guess it is.” He taps the butt of the cig on an ashtray prompted on the stool of the window, eyes still trained on you. “Should do it more often then, s’fucking hot.”

You smile at the connotation, picking at the hem of the shirt and gazing at him from under your lashes. “Guess I might be starting to like pink, that’s also your fault.”

“Look way too good in pink not to like it, bunny.”

“Stop that.” You hide your face on the crook of his shoulder.

“Telling the truth.” His free hand grips on your waist, pulling you closer as he tilts his head to kiss at your neck. “Looks good in everything.”

“Could tell you the same thing.” You pull back to look at him, teeth sinking on your bottom lip as you smooth your hands down his bare chest.  “But I do prefer this fit on you, really brings out your eyes.”

“Naughty.”

You lean to connect your lips, hugging him close with your arms wrapped around his neck and enjoying the tender moment as you distribute kisses around his face just to hear him giggle. And when you bring your mouth to his again, you barely feel the softness of his lips before he all but jumps on his skin. You pull back, furrowing your brows, ready to question it but he beats you. “Forgot I got something for you.”

“For me?” You blink. “What is it?”

“Go sit on the bed while I fetch, will be just a minute.” He gives you a quick peck before you’re pulling away.

You do as he asks, sitting back on the bed, right next to the wrinkled spot where you lied just  minutes ago. He walks across the room, opening the door where you came from and disappearing in the hallway. The record is still blasting through the apartment walls, sound coming louder now that there’s no barrier between you.

While he’s gone, you take a moment to look around his room, something you didn’t get a chance to do when you first came in tangled on his arms. It’s not much messier than the living room, really, only the small piles of clothes you’ve spotted earlier that give the illusion of an untidy room. There’s a light wooden dresser that sits next to the chest, and from where you sit you can see two candles standing alone on top of it, similar to the ones on the piano. 

You swing your feet on the edge of the bed, letting them brush along a blue fluffy mat that hugs the floor underneath it. And as you run your hands on along his mattress, you notice the soft superficie, making you look down at a knitted blanket spreaded across the bed. It’s made of different colored squared stuck together in an oddly comforting pattern. You want to lie down on it, and let yourself be swallowed by the cozyness of the material against your skin, but before you can do so, Harry appears back in the room, closing the door behind him as he makes his way to you.

“This blanket is so nice.” You run your hands through it, smiling at him.

“Thanks, I knitted it.” The information makes your eyes bulge out, you open your mouth to inquire further but he’s already talking again. “This is-- uhm, I dunno, just something I thought you’d like it.”

The small box in his hand catches your attention as he hands it to you, his eyes looking down at it and even with just the moonlight illuminating the room you can see the blush on his cheeks. He props himself down on the spot next to you, watching your fingers turn the rectangular box around. It’s a cassette tape case, you quickly realize.

When you gaze at the back of it, there’s names of songs scribbled behind it. Not many, but a good collection of them, from Fleetwood Mac to The Bangles, and even Billy Joel. And it doesn’t take you long to find a pattern with the song chosen for the tape. Their all love songs. It makes your heart swell even more, if that’s even possible at this point.

“These are so cheesy,” you bite your lip, barely able to contain your smile.

He rolls his eyes. “They’re romantic, bunny.”

You keep examining the titles written neatly in his handwriting, raising your brows when you land on a specific one. “Every breath you take?” You tease, “That’s an interesting take on romance.”

“Shut up.” He giggles, eyes watching you carefully. “Do you like it?” His voice is adorably hesitant, it makes your heart stumble on a beat.

“I love it.” You say in just above a whisper, feeling the butterflies in your stomach get a little more vivid once your eyes land on the last song scribbled in the back of the tape. Somebody to Love. Brushing your thumb over the words softly, careful not to smudge the paint, you look up at him to find his green irises glistening at you. You shake your head almost in disbelief at the tenderness behind the gift. “Did you record this just for me?”

“Uhm yeah some of them I did but—” He looks down, focusing on his fingers as they pick a loose string from the blanket under his leg. “Some of them I just... Sang”

“You sang?” It takes you by surprise, how you thought there was no way he could make you feel warmer.

“Yeah… All of them, actually.” His dimples dig deep on his cheeks as he quickly peeks his eyes at you. “It’s just… The quality is shit when you record it from the radio and the dj keeps interrupting and stuff.” He shrugs, “Thought if I sang it could be more, personal? I guess.”

“I love it.” You repeat.

“You do?” 

“I do.” You chew on your lip, watching his eyes glimmering on the dim light of the room. “Is there a reason for this sudden present?”

“Kind of I--” He clears his throat, fully glancing at you. There’s an expectation behind his eyes, you can tell from the way he takes a sharp inhale that he’s nervous. “Thought I make you-- ask you, actually, if you’d be mine?”

You can’t help but giggle at how adorable he looks, your eyes getting a bit glossy as you nod without a blink of a thought. “Of course I’m yours, Harry.”

“Yeah?” His smile grows. “As like, m’girlfriend?”

Throwing your arms around him, you press your lips against his cheek, careful not to drop the tape in your hand still. You pull back, tilting your head as giving him a fond smile. “As in your girlfriend, yes.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #80s!harry #harry styles writing

[konglindorm]

Perrault and His Stupid Morals

So I was thinking this morning about Perrault, and his annoying tendency to ruin perfectly good stories with self-righteous moralizing.

If you haven’t read a lot of Perrault before, what he does is tell his story, and then at the end he tells you the moral of the story. Sometimes two morals. And, okay, these are good stories, fully capable of standing on their own. So I’m already annoyed that Perrault has so little faith in our reading comprehension that he has to tell us what each story is about. But the other thing is, that’s not even what the stories are about. His morals are garbage!

I have two specific examples, which fill me with rage every time I think of them:

Bluebeard:

Summary: Girl married to skeevy older dude, already widowed several times. He leaves her home alone and tells her not to go in a specific room. She goes in anyway, and finds the corpses of all his previous wives. He finds out and tries to kill her too, but her brothers save her.

Moral 1: Don’t snoop

Moral 2: At least your arranged marriage probably isn’t to a serial killer, so suck it up.

Donkeyskin:

Summary: Beautiful queen on her deathbed makes husband promise not to remarry unless new girl is as hot as her. Tragically, she was the hottest. Until their daughter grows up to look exactly like dead mom. King has the brilliant idea to marry his own daughter! Daughter, grossed out and freaked out, flees, undergoing much trauma before eventually marrying a foreign prince. Her dad is invited to the wedding, and they reconcile, all the unfortunate incest business magically forgotten.

Moral: Do the right thing (i.e. don’t marry your dad) even when it’s hard.

Now, is it just me, or do these moral seem a little victim-blamey? How about “don’t murder”? “Don’t store rotting corpses in a closet”? “Incest is bad”?

Bluebeard dies at the end, sure, but Donkeyskin’s dad is facing zero consequences for his actions. And yeah, Donkeyskin did the right thing by not marrying her dad, and Perrault acknowledges that, but honestly? She’s a young woman being groomed/manipulated/threatened by the one person in her life that she should absolutely be able to rely on and trust unconditionally. If she did marry him, I would not blame her. Because she’s young and she’s scared and she’s tried, she’s tried to reason with him, but it’s not working, and what is she supposed to do? This particular girl didn’t panic, and was smart enough to find an escape route. But a different girl in the same situation might not have seen a way out, might have wound up marrying him, and that wouldn’t be her fault. It would be her dad’s.

Yeah, Donkeyskin did the right thing, even though it was hard. So what? That’s not the moral of the story! There are a lot of potential morals here, but Perrault can shut up unless he wants to call out the evil dad, and preferably kill him off in the most painful and gruesome way possible.

And Bluebeard? Let’s go back to Bluebeard. “Don’t snoop”? Don’t snoop? Seriously? If I’m ever forced to marry a skeevy older dude with several dead wives, I’m absolutely going to snoop. That’s, like, preemptive self-defense. And I will complain about being forced to marry a skeevy older man as much as I want, whether or not he’s a serial killer, and I have every right to; screw you, Perrault, you insufferable jerk.

Why do you have two morals calling out of heroine for perceived bad behavior and nothing to say about the actual literal serial killer? Stop scolding girls for being in a terrifying situation you’ll never experience and can’t possibly understand. Start scolding Bluebeard for being a serial killer who keeps rotting corpses inside his house. Like, let’s be real here; how much snooping was even involved? Girl probably followed the smell. And smelling dead bodies absolutely trumps all “do not open this door” instructions.

I love Perrault’s actual stories, but his stupid morals just kind of make me wish he was still alive so I could strangle him.

#folklore #fairy tales #perrault #donkeyskin #bluebeard

[itsautophile]

Poppy (Death, Remberance and Sleep)

AO3

Presentation day was important to all those who wanted to have entrance to the highest balls of the Roan Kingdom. Without the monarch’s approval even a high ranked noble would only be able to attend those events were all nobles regardless have access such as those celebrating the monarch’s birthday.

Cale Henituse was the last of the ladies to present and compared to all of them Alberu found her slightly lacking.

Let it not be misunderstood he didn’t talk about her beauty or her dress. Cale Henituse at sixteen years old deserved to be called the Flower of the North and maybe even the entire Kingdom. Her white dress which was without sleeves of a back reminded him of an upside down trumpet flower and decorated with silver thread embroidery and beautiful beading and delicate embroidery reminded she showed of the wealth of her family while staying within the dress code.

What he meant was that she looked as if presenting herself to the King was a last minute event she decided to do on a whim. There was no overly complicated or overly decorated hairstyle and no natural looking but multistep makeup. In their place were a high pony tail which was not adorned with ribbons and a pair of simply, if smudged, lined eyes which came as a set with smiling red lips. Her dress despite the expensive materials and embellishments didn’t consist of many layers and in fact looked like something she could put on by herself.

Alberu could hear the Queen huffing beside him.

Once the kissing of the King’s hand and her curtsying to each royal member individually was over it was time for her to kneel before the King.

If normal procedure was followed the King would order her to stand, welcome her with words and the dismiss her.

“Miss Henituse, you take a lot from your mother’s side of the family. Not only in appearance but in character as well.”

Apparently Cale Henituse was not the only one going off script.

“This lowly subject is honored how his Majesty, the light of our Kingdom, remembers my mother’s fallen family enough to notice the similarities. Few people remember the Thames nowadays.”

“Indeed.”

 Zed Crossman spend a few seconds just staring at the top of her red head and Alberu made a note to look into the Thames.

“Rise, Miss Henituse.”

Still smiling she changed her position.

“Before I welcome you, we must express our wish of there still being a kingdom for us to rule.”

Cale Henituse smile grew wider.

“Do not worry, your Majesty. I am aiming neither for Roan or the crown.”

“Then you may leave.”

“What was that about, my King?” inquired the Queen once the door closed.

“You will by the end of the week.”

Three days later rumor had it of how brave and smart Young Mistress Cale was and had set up a trap with the help of the Captain Knight using her Presentation Attire to lure a rich merchant named William Vit who was also the Moonlight Killer, a murderer who had killed many noble women. She refused a reward claiming she didn’t do much.

And while that was very interesting there was something else which bothered Alberu.

“Were did the man’s money go?”

#trash of the count's family #tcf #cale henituse #alberu crossman #zed crossman #fanfic

[leewadeeleewada]

POSSIBLE WITCH QUEEN RAID SPOILERS

hahaha OK SO I I just read the Star Jasmine ship lore from the collections badge cause you know me i’m a slut for lore BUT OK

We know the Raid is (allegedly) called  Vow of the Disciple. The song in the OST is also called "The First Disciple". The area around the Pyramid is also called "Disciple's Bog"

And the lore from the Star Jasmine ship which I now assume is gonna drop from the Raid?? I think that’s the Disciple. Its gotta be

And it's "children"? ("my children have children -- some bequeath my lessons") It's "spawn" who "prepare banquets of wisdom on which their kin gorge"? of which "only Uun disappoints. Frightened as he is now...I cut him free of my succor"??? "I stand in awe of the elegance with which you [the Witness] revealed the truth to me. I cannot do the same without reflection. I have imitated myself all too well..."

You know what also "cannot do the same without reflection"???  You know what has "spawn" You are finally here. Brother slayer. Spawn killer and "children" Take into your bodies our children, our newborn larvae?? You know what has names like Uun and Ur and Yul and Eir and Xol and Akka that are very similar in wording and paracausality/anthem anathema????

I think we are looking at the parent of the worms and the wish ‘dragons’. 

I think we are looking at First Worm.

#witch queen spoilers #witch queen raid #destiny 2 #i am hollering #destiny 2 the witch queen #ahamkara #worm gods #destiny lore #destiny the witch queen

[natromanxoff]

25 - Just Chatting...

Hello one and all.

It's been a long time since I graced these pages and, believe it or not, nothing much has been happening in my life, apart from the odd soiree or two. Winter has finally left us and spring has sprung, and it's nice to see the sun again. Let's start by wishing my old mate a happy birthday and I hope you all had a little drinkie for him, I know I did. In fact I got legless, he would have been proud of me. Whenever we were in London there was always a party at Fred's on his birthday, be it a handful of friends, or one where he invited half of Britain, but which ever one it was there was always a good time to be had and a lot of chaos. One year he actually took over Pikes Hotel in Ibiza and chartered a private plane to fly his friends in. Roger and myself were already on the island recording some of his solo stuff so we didn't have far to travel to the bash. When I say we were working, it's kind of true as we spent a lot of time on his boat "Ga Ga" whizzing around having lunch and fun. The party was held outside around the swimming pool, now is that an invite for trouble or what? There were hundreds of balloons hanging from every available fixture, and of course there is always an idiot that thinks he's a clown. This particular clown, who will remain nameless, decided it would be funny to light one of the balloons, and needless to say the whole lot went up in flames. Phoebe and Crystal to the rescue. We had to get this "fire" off the wooden rafters before the whole hotel went up in smoke, so we were pulling bits of string while burning rubber was dripping down on us. I was so traumatised by the whole event I had to have another drink ....... a lame excuse I know, but hey, it's my story. Back to the pool. Edwin Shirley, of trucking fame and also an all round good guy after a few too many, decided to have a swim, so he removed his clothing and was flapping around the pool when some daft countess told him to get dressed and behave himself. Wrong move lady. Edwin was not impressed by his telling off and threw her in, and she was even less impressed with that and started ranting and raving, much to the amusement to the rest of the party hounds. She left with her tail between her legs and didn't look at all glamorous in her soaking wet dress, running makeup and failed hairdo. We continued till mid morning and went straight to the airport and caught a flight home. Thanks F for the great parties and good times, you will never be forgotten.

I still get asked a lot if I'm gonna write the "Real" story about Queen. Well the answer is no, and the reason is that the guys gave me a great job and a great life and I have far to much respect for them, their wives/girlfriends, children and families to tell the world what we got up to in private. I feel that is our business and ours alone. Most of us are all in relationships and telling tales could make life awkward for a few people, band and crew alike. I'm sure at some point in time someone from the organisation will write a book, have 5 minutes of fame and make a quick buck, but it sure as hell won't be me, and I'll still be able to sleep at night and when I see the guys I will still be free to say, "Wanna beer MATE."

I've had a few questions asked me that I'm gonna answer quickly.

First off is "Do you have any stories about Freddies cats? (ripping furniture etc.)" Here's a good reply, No. So moving right along, "Of all the famous people you've met, who impressed you the most?" Tricky one this. After years in this "Biz" they all become "Just normal people," and some become good pals, but on one occasion I was in Paul McCartneys studio and I was handed his violin bass and I was sitting there holding it when someone said, "Paul is left handed, hold it like he would." When I turned it around, still taped in the cutout was the Beatles set list from their days in Hamburg, now that impressed me.

Deaky and myself were the only two reggae lovers in the outfit, and Bob Marley turned up to see the show at Madison Square Gardens. Strange choice of show for Bob, but he loved Another one bites the dust, and he happened to be in New York on a stopover on his way to Germany for laser treatment. Show time and our intro tape was playing, and someone told JD that Bob was in the audience, so he cranked his bass up and played "Lively up yourself" over the tape. This was very possibly the last time Marley ever heard this played as he died shortly after. I didn't get to meet him, but I did get to meet Tyrone Downie, Bobs keyboard player in the Wailers, and Tyrone and myself got up to all sorts of mischief that night. RT on the other hand hates reggae music, but I did manage to drag him to the Circus Krone in Munich to see Peter Tosh. I loved it, he hated it. I look at this as payback because years before he insisted that I went to Hammersmith Odeon to see Laurie Anderson, of O Superman fame. This show he loved, but I put it alongside Cher as one of the worst concerts I have ever seen. Needless to say I have also met a couple of stars that I didn't see eye to eye with. Like the American rock star we encountered in a club one night, and he was such a pain I had to take him into the toilets to have a quiet word with him. He finally got the message so I released my hand from around his neck and let him drop back down to the ground. To finish this segment I wanna tell you something that Bev Bevan said. Bev was the drummer with ELO, and them and us were touring the US at the same time, and as it turned out, staying in the same hotel in one city. Roger and myself were leaving the hotel and waiting for the elevator. When the doors opened Bev was in there and him and RT said their hellos. Rog then said, "Bev, this is Crystal, he looks after me." Bev turned to me, shook my hand and said, "Pleased to meet you. If it wasn't for guys like you, guys like us wouldn't be where we are today." He didn't need to say that, and was genuine when he did. I wasn't impressed with meeting him, but he is certainly in my top ten of nicest people I have ever meet.

Over the last few months I've spent a lot of time in the Chatroom, and I highly recommend it to you all as it can be a bit of a laugh. For anyone who has never visited the room please remember a couple of things, if you come in and start swearing you will be kicked out. I know, it happens to me all the time. Also don't come in and start going on about knowing axemen and murderers and other such garbage, cause that also warrants a kicking. Some buffoon from Ireland, who went by the name of "Death" turned up with an attitude and was going on about how f***ing awesome Queen were at Slane Castle. He was not known by anyone in there so I asked him to watch his language. He said he was the Grim Reaper and could do and say what he liked, so I told him otherwise and he was most put out when I kicked him. What a fool. A while ago there was some prat who called himself F***queen, good name eh! Anyway, he/she/it was picking on a lovely young lady called Raisa, and was saying some awful things to her and completely freaked her out, so I went to her defence and FQ turned the attention my way. As far as I'm concerned it's only letters on a screen and it didn't phase me at all, but at least he/she/it gave up on Raisa. In all fairness to FQ, whoever you may be, he/she left a message on the Bulletin Board saying sorry to Raisa and myself and would never do it again. So FQ, from the both of us, thanks for the apology, we accept it. What other weirdos have we had? Well, there was a brightspark who decided it would be funny to use the nickname QueenRshite, another bad move from this person who was honoured with a ban.

While in there I've seen a lot of friendships made, and a couple that have fallen apart. I got a private message one evening from a very drunk girl who, how shall we phrase this, offered me her body and wanted to do all sorts of naughty things to me, I thanked her and declined...must be getting old or something. I have also witnessed relationships being made and, usually there is a lot of humour involved, but needless to say some arguments do occur. I have also seen some of the daftest things said. One guy was so convinced that one of the regulars was either Deaky or she was chatting with him in private that he actually started tracking her every move on the net. He also told me about some highly illegal activities he was up to concerning the band. I wouldn't have thought I was the best person to tell such stuff to, and needless to say I had a go at him. Just to add to his stupidity he's been recently boasting about his affair with an underage girl, and I reckon if he had any more sense he would be half witted. Having mentioned all the twits I'd like to say a quick hello to all the regulars, White Queen and Killer Queen, the lovely girls Blue Rock and Rannnnnnni, SQJan, Mayflower and her boys, Farookh (aka Leroy Brown) MarshMallow, the three Tigers - Babe, Lily and Stripes and the mighty Falc, also to all the rest who I haven't mentioned by name, you know who you are. I'd also like to say hi to Daddy Cool who is the singer in the Dutch cover band Miracle, and Dad, if you never make it as a singer you could make a great career from being a stand up comedian. Finally an extra special hello to the gorgeous MTB, who is about to make an honest man of me ;)

Before I go I'm sure I don't need to remind anyone of a certain date in November that is engraved in all of our minds. And I know that a lot of you will be heading to Garden Lodge to leave flowers. I don't wanna preach and tell you what to do, and I know flowers are a nice gesture, but they do die and the only people to really benefit from this is the florist. This year lets all give a donation, no matter how small, to Aids research, this way the cash will be used to try and stamp out this awful disease. If you really wanna leave flowers, buy a smaller, cheaper bunch and donate the balance of what you would have spent to these charities. It's been said a million times before but it is true, Every penny counts.

As always, Loadsa Love.

Crystal

#queen #queen band #freddie mercury #john deacon #peter freestone #crystal taylor #crystal's tales