#fucking british lightbulb man

[probably-raymond]

Silly british lightbulb man brings me joy. Look at him. I want to throw him at a wall affectionately.

#lbp #lbp3 #little big planet #little big planet 3 #newton lbp3 #newton #lightbulb #fucking british lightbulb man #make me wanna spontaneously combust #he makes me so happy #look at him #look at the silly little guy #silly little guy #so silly

[nostalgia-tblr]

Another "weird old niche British TV thing nobody cares about" that I like is Sapphire & Steel, which I carefully watched in daylight hours in case it was too scary which despite the 70s effects it was and so I've never actually rewatched it even though I have on DVD over there. Like it probably wouldn't scare normal people but I'm still a bit freaked out re: "burn every photograph of yourself and never have another one taken" in case a man with NO FACE kills you via the magic of photography. (70s British TV seems to be effed up in its own special ways IDK why probably a cultural premonition of THATCHER (*spits*) I bet that's it yeah must be.)

Also the oddness where I shipped Sapphire and Steel (and Silver, because he just showed up with a lightbulb that time and I was like "Yep, he's had the both of them") right until the exact moment I realised I was probably meant/allowed to ship them, at which point I stopped. I wonder what that was about. But you know when the leads in something are a man and a woman and they're sort of vaguely heteroerotic at each other but it's well before they'd ever be allowed to have sex on television so you're fairly sure nothing will ever come of it? I'm into that sort of thing. But it's Joanna Lumley (AKA the only canonical Doctor Who) and she has Magic Time Powers that are never explained and... actually, fuck all is ever actually explained in Sapphire & Steel you just kind of have to go along with it and not wonder WTF all this elements and time travel stuff is about.

PJ Hammond would much later write a couple of Torchwood episodes, one of which I quite liked and neither of which were anywhere near as good as S&S and mostly it's just an odd fact like "oh that Edge of Darkness actor was in Jurassic Park isn't that peculiar?"

I should watch it again, I know it's all okay in the end now and... no, wait, it's not okay in the end, is it? It has that famous "WTF" ending where they're trapped in a motorway service station for all eternity or something. But if I watch it again that will reserve the "I never want to see this amazing piece of television ever ever again" title for Threads which is an amazing piece of television that I never want to see ever ever again. But then keeping cult British TV shows as one-time-ever things does preserve that pre-internet "you will have one chance to see this and it will never be repeated and people will tell you about it twenty years later and you will lament the fact that the BBC (etc) are too cheap to pay repeat fees especially for things shot in black and white" vibe. (Speaking of which doesn't it feel extra-awful that streaming services are starting to pull "yeah we had to burn our only copy of that because there was no room left in the archive" shit except they don't even have the excuse of "oh no there are episodes of Dr Who lying about in the corridors creating an obvious fire hazard"? But I digress.)

I have lost control of this post, sorry, it started out because I remembered that "why did I ship them until I thought I was allowed to?" thing and now look at it it has turned into a reckless waste of internet. But anyway yes Joanna Lumley and she can turn back time but only when it's not going to resolve the plot too easily. Also she may actually be a lump of rock, not sure how that was supposed to work and neither of those two are elements in the usual sense BUT ANYWAY.

#sapphire and steel #old british televison (not the BBC this time even! gosh!) #i always wanted to write a crossover with Dr Who where Ten and Donna were doing that job but I never did #mostly I didn't feel I could capture the S&S 'WTF is actually happening here?' vibe correctly #people these days expect things to MAKE SENSE my god what IS that???!! #also i feel like Sapphire could be a very scary Murder Woman if she wanted to be (if she's even a woman?) #Steel has the weird cold flat affect thing going on but I think she's actually scarier she can REWIND TIME ffs! #and you THINK Sapphire will take your side but will she? will she???

[drac2la]

[crushes captain pud like an empty fucking soda can] 

#val.txt #lbp #i inherently do not trust fictional parents when all we learn abt them from the perspective of their kid is that they make em feel bad #ive read fics and the take seems to be that hes not a bad father in actuality but me being me im like #ARE YOU CERTAIN? POSITIVLEY SURE? #all we know is that hes successful smart and newton clearly does not want to be in his fathers shadow #BUT does he show an ounce of caring for newtons well being? certainly id also be telling him yea you fucked up #but at the very least ask HEY ARE YOU OK?? #all he does is call his son an idiot in that posh british way and does not say much else #ofc we cant be certain on what type of father he actually is but i have the inherent instinct to hate this man #so anyways talk to me abt lbp3 and hear me psychoanalyze the funney british lightbulb

[wizkiddx]

hiiiii !!! if you are accepting requests at the moment, can i ask something about reader and tom expecting a baby, one day while he’s drunk she sees him flirting with another women and when she confronts him he snaps at her and tells her he’s not ready for this “shit”. So they broke up and broke contact for months, until he shows in her apartment regretting his words and they talk but she suddenly at that moment gets into labor?!? I remember seeing a concept similar in a movie but I would love if you couldn’t bring it to life! Thank you so much in advance, appreciate your work a lot 🧸🤎

right so I loved this so much it has become a multiple parter and im not even going to apologise. so thanku so so much anon for getting me out a little rut!!!

summary: when toms caught out all hope looks lost - probs part 1 of 3 but it could get a bit longer too lol

warnings: serious angst, reference to abortion, cheating, a whole lot of swearing (im British sorry not sorry)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hi babe, just to let you know Yamna’s invited me out for dinner this evening so don’t worry if you get home early and im not back! I love you x”

It was a spur of the moment plan, which was a rarity recently. The past 5 months since you’d found out, you could name barely 5 occasions you’d been out past 8 oclock- trading your heels for fuzzy slippers and dresses for massively oversized tops and joggers. It wasn’t how you had expected to be spending the summer before your 25th birthday but it was now your life. The rooftop bars, the wild nights, the get aways had all sort of been cancelled for… for the rest of your life.

Because an 8 month pregnant belly isn’t something you can ignore.

Sure…. it wasn’t the plan. Not the plan to be pregnant with your boyfriend of only 6 months, who at the time you didn’t even live with. But you were making it work. And now, you were just excited. It was the start of a new story with Tom, and you’d got past the phase of being sad and mourning your youth. Because the little bubba inside of you, she was pretty awesome and you really couldn’t wait to meet her.

So yes, you had been home alone eating ice cream from a tub when Yamna knocked on the door. She’d been one of your best mates for as long as you could remember so when she’d turned up unannounced with mascara smeared under her eyes you’d cancelled your plans of a pathetic alone evening. Her boss had just given her the sack - which was no surprise. He was a backwards tory old git who couldn’t handle the fact Yamna was a woman doing the job better than he could ever dream of.

So yes, you’d suggested going out to the fancy new bar down the road - to celebrate the fact she no longer had to put up with the arsehole. Obviously you couldn’t drink and neither did Yamna, but you go to a bar for the atmosphere - and the selection of mocktails they had was insane.

Your boyfriend Tom was already out, he said he had a meeting and then dinner with some execs he needed to shmoosh. Of course you didn’t mind, but he had been working a lot recently, in order to be able to have the time off when your baby girl arrives.

So after sending a little text and giving Yamna another hug to try and turn the evening from disappointment to celebration you walked out the door with a smile on your face. Maybe you could pretend, just for an evening to not be pregnant and whale-like?

///////////////////////////

The bar was just a 10 minute walk so it wasn’t long before the two of you were soaking up the atmosphere. It was all decorated in a rustic fashion, with old exposed wood and dangling lightbulbs from the ceiling and the drinks were incredible. The type that have dry ice or flames or some other sort of fantastical display of edible decorations. Even Yamna had perked up, especially when a guy from the table across had bought you both a round of drinks.

“I’m just gonna pop to the loo.”

“Do you really need the toilet or do you just want to parade infornt of the fit rich man who keeps looking at you?”

“ Is both an option?” You laughed as Yamna slipped off her stool, winking rather dramatically as she did so. She was unbelievable - but at least this way she wasn’t thinking about her work, or lack thereof, anymore.

Happily you sat scrolling though your phone, seeing that tom had messaged you with an okay, before flicking through instagram.

And that was where the happiness ended.

For in a hurried manner, with a face looking a lot more ghosted than when she left, Yamna took her seat again.

“Are you okay?” Immediately your worry took over, the way she was biting her lip and not meeting your eyes not helping.

“I um yeh-yeh. Just I think I saw Tom.”

“Tom as in my Tom?” Her almost guilty looking nod had your scrunching your eyebrows, why was it such a big deal Tom was inside?

“He didn’t see me I don’t think but er… he just looked pretty close to a girl and I-“

To be honest you stopped listening at that point, heart dropping out the bottom of your chest. Because it made sense, he had been so distant recently and even if you’d been lying to yourself that it were work - this seemed much more likely. Whilst nodding along, pretending to listen to Yamna, instead your attention was solely focused on fiddling with the promise ring he’d got you after the two of you decided to keep the baby. He’d been so committed, so ready for this unexpected news. He’d said he was in for the long haul.

“Y/n?”

“sorry I um… it’s probably just a work colleague he needs to sweet talk. I’ll um-I’ll just go say hello.”

“I’m coming with you.” She spoke astutely, very much forcing herself into the situation.

“No no I’ll… I’ll come back if I need you, just wait here.”

Her face was so grim and destitute, as much as you were pretending it was okay - you knew it wasn’t. Before Yamna could protest further, you slipped off your seat ( clumsily thanks to the elephant belly) and walked with fake confidence back inside.

It took you barely 3 seconds to hone in on Tom, call it mothers intuition. He was on a booth in the corner with 5 others on his table but none of whom you recognised. It was 2 other guys and 3 girls - the six all paired off in mathcingly initimate conversations. Apart from that you payed almost zero attention to the others, attention solely focused on your boyfriend and the girl he had his arm round.

She was everything you weren’t. She was skinny - you, as previously mentioned, looked like you had a beachball stuffed under your top. She was blonde with sleek and perfectly styled waves at the tips of her long her - yours was thrown into a messy bun due to the last minute plans.

Most importantly - right now she was wrapped in Toms arms, whilst you stood alone watching.

God knows what came over you, but with confidence you never normally had you marched up to the table, just waiting at the end. One of the men you didn’t recognised, arrogantly asked you ‘can I help you’ - but you completely disregarded it, eyes solely fixed on Tom. He took a moment more to look away from the leggy girl, but as soon as he did his eyes grew massively wide.

“Y/n I-I-“

“Fancy bumping into you, I thought you were out with work executives?” Frantically casting his gaze across the table, you could see the cogs whirring to try and come up with an explanation.

“No I-I was but then Charlie here came over, we used to be mates at school and-“

“Oh fuck off Tom., I cant deal with this right now.”

You didn’t even have the energy to listen to his clearly fake excuses as to why he’d landed himself in that situation. You also certainly did not have it in you to maintain the strong face, you could feel everything shattering inside of you.

Because it was so blindingly obvious by how he had acted. You’d caught him out and you both knew it.

And it fucking hurt like hell.

So you exited the bar as fast as physically possible, hearing the shouts of both Yamna and Tom behind you. You didn’t know what you needed in that moment - except that neither of them were the answer. Tom though, presumably the faster of the two, managed to catch up - grabbing your arm to make you halt in the road.

There was this moment between the two of you that time almost seemed to freeze. The two of you, in an otherwise pretty empty residential street, at 9:30 at night, in a moment that you would never have again. From your point of view, you saw the slightly bloodshot and bleary eyes, widened with panic and fear. For Tom he saw the floods of tears down your cheeks, which you hadn’t even noticed were freely streaming.

But in that moment there was, at least, the slightest bit of peace. The slightest bit of hope - that he could explain, that he had some ludicrous but valid reason for the situation you had walked in on. Just a smidgen of hope that this were recoverable.

But then he had to open his bloody mouth.

“Y/n I swear nothing-“

“That didn’t look like fucking nothing!”

“It was I swear! We just-“

“Tom this is your one and only chance. I don’t care if your off your face, if you don’t give my a miracle of a reason as to what the fuck THAT was - then I’m gone.”

“Don’t say that Y/n, you don’t mean th-“ He tried to grab your hand which you snatched away, like you had just scalded it on a hot plate. Like he had hurt you.

“I swear to god I’ve never meant anything more. So cut the shit.”

“FIne-fine! Um so we were at the meeting and then on the way out I bumped into George and hes been a good mate of mine for years.” All you did was hum, arms crossed and making sure you had a metre of distance between the two of you.

“So he said god you look like you need a drink and I agreed because its been stressful as hell recently.”

“Oh its been stressful; for YOU has it? I’m so sorry Thomas, has it been hard for you while i’ve been throwing my lungs up with morning sickness? Has it been stressful that I’ve been running on zero hours sleep because she kicks me all bloody night? ” Your words were laced in a posioned sarcasm, to which Tom just stammered to.

“Please just let me.” Given he was supposed to be fighting for you, he sounded pretty darn defeated already.

“I said yes to the drink.” He skipped out the bit that had angered you, to which you rolled your eyes at. “And one turned into two and more and then I don’t know-“

“Your going to have to try a lot harder than that.” You deadpanned, taking a small step further back still.

“I mean it! The girls were all his friends and we were just talking.”

“Just talking? All pressed up and arms round her?”

“Yes!” As indignant as he retorted, it didn’t not make up for what you had seen with your own eyes.

“Your such a bullshitter Tom!”

“God why wont you just listen to me?” He cried, wobbly doing a little 360 on the spot, in what appeared to be exasperation.

“Because your just spouting fucking lies! And you try and blame it all on poor little tommo being stressed which is-“

“I HAVE BEEN! Running round after you! I’m just tired of this shit!!! So kill me, for having one night of freedom!”

Tom was too deep in his angry lecture to take any notice of you. Which is why, once finished, he waitied, breath heavy and nose flaring. He was waiting for you to scream back at him. To give it back. He was too drunk to notice the change in your demeanor.

“I’m tired of this shit.”

It was just reverberating round your head. Again and again and again. He was tired of your relationship and you hadn’t even become parents yet. He was at his wits-end and the baby was still unborn. What the fuck was going to happen when baby arrived? Clearly there was no hope. It was dead. Your relationship was dead with no chance of revival.

Because he’d said it. Your relationship was shit, and nobody can put up with something they hate for that long. Not 18 years. Not while bringing up a child.

So with a new sense of dread and fear and complete and total isolation you uttered three single words before hysterically running away.

“Don’t follow me.”

Not now, not ever.

?to be continued?

~~~~~~~~~~gahhhh I hope u enjoyed! I also REALLY CANNOT THINK OF A NAME FOR THIS MINISERIES --> if anyone can think of something pls inbox me!!! ~~~~~~~~

tom taglist: @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @Elishi03 @arctic-monkcys @Ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol

#tom x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland angst #tom holland one shot #tomholland #tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland oneshot #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #angsty #pregnant!reader

[kelieah]

british people be like (tom holland x reader)

summary: you make tom duet the “british people be like” tiktok

warnings: fluff, language

edited: ommgm there’s only so many different types of words i could use for laughter, sorry if this is badndfjknf

a/n: i love this tiktok so much LMFAAOOO like imagine tom reacting to this

the tiktok

tiktok masterlist | main masterlist

-

Your eyes crinkle and your stomach tightens from laughing so hard at this tiktok you just watched.

You calm yourself down and watch it again, wheezing loudly. “Fuck, I can’t,” you clutch your stomach and continue to laugh.

“Jesus darling, are you alright? Sounds like someone is dying in here,” Tom walks into your room, well technically his room, and leans on the doorway.

Your laughter dies down and you wipe away the small tears at the ends of your eyes. You breathe out and look at Tom to see his confused expression. 

He tilts his head and you stand up, but fall to your knees laughing harder.

“Damn! Did you show her your dick mate?” Tuwaine calls out.

You gasp for air and lean against his bed, “Shut up!” Tom huffs and walks over to you, sitting down. “Well? What’ so funny,” he chuckles, helping you up.

You lean against him, finally calming down and inhale deeply, “I was watching a tiktok video over and over, and it reminded me of you all.”

He hums slowly, “I wanna see,” he presses a couple of kisses against the side of your face.

“Mmk, hold on,” you lean over him and grab your phone.

“I thought I was the only one who could make you laugh like that,” he pouts, running his hands through your hair.

You lie across his lap and shrug, “You thought wrong,” you open up tiktok on your phone.

You click on the video and show Tom, looking up at him every now and then to watch his reaction.

You begin to giggle as you notice him starting to laugh. You both watch it again and start laughing even more, “We don’t sound like that!” he defends himself and everyone else.

“Bullshit, that’s exactly how you all sound!”

“God her laugh makes things 10 times funnier,” he leans back, shaking his head.

Suddenly as if a lightbulb flicks on in your head, you quickly look at Tom with a mischievous grin. “Babe.”

“Yes love?” he chuckles, the tiktok repeating in his mind.

“You have to duet this video and repeat after her. Since you claim you don’t sound like that,” you sit up, biting your lip to conceal your excitement.

“No, I don’t need to prove you shit,” he scoffs making you roll your eyes.

“Please, I’ll do whatever you want tonight,” you beg which made him smirk slightly, reconsidering.

“Fine.”

“That was easy,” you click away and hold the phone up to Tom, already feeling a fit of laughter coming on its way.

You begin to record and listen to the girl, “British people be like it’s chewsday innit?” she snickers.

You glance over at Tom who couldn’t help but crack a smile, “It’s Tuesday isn’t it?” he says quickly, his accent similar to her mockery.

“It kinda sounds the same,” you shrug, making him look at you offended.

“Not really,” he huffs and crosses his arms. 

You shake your head and continue the video, “British people watching Spider-Man be like Peta Paka,” she hangs her head in laughter.

“Peter Parker,” he says looking at you, he notices you stifle a laugh and throws up his arms in disbelief.

“You do! I swear,” you sass, making him pull you closer and tickle your sides. You stop recording and squirm around, “Tommy! S-Stop! I’m sorry!” you cry out.

He stops, placing his chin on your shoulder, “Now be quiet and let’s get this over with already,” he sighs longingly.

You press record once again and watch the girl, “British people be like can I get a boao of wooa!” she wheezes, making the both of you laugh.

He furrows his brows, “Can I get a bottle of water?” You giggle, and he groans, “I don’t-” 

You cut him off and press record once again, “British people get mad and be like are you facken schewpid,” she cries out in laughter.

“Are you fucking stupid?” he retorts, making you both burst out in laughter. You lean on him and he throws his head back, laughing more.

“A-are yew fakin stewpid, g-god that’s priceless,” you wipe away a fake tear making him snort.

You slap your knee and laugh harder, “Shut up!” he covers his face groaning.

“L-last one,” you breathe out and press the red button.

“British people getting stabbed be like, oit there mate, bit rude to put that knoife in me chest innit?” she weeps, falling back wheezing.

Tom stumbles over his words, “O-Oi there mate, bit rude tom put that knife in my chest isn’t it?” he falls into a fit of laughter.

You squeal, sliding off the bed laughing harder than before. He places his hands on top of his face and snickers.

“I’m posting this,” you breathe out, sitting back up and edit the video a bit.

“Bit rude to put that knife in me chest innit,” he shakes his head, giggling.

“This dahling, is why I love your accent,” you look up at him and wink.

“Oh fuck you, darling.”

click here to be added to my taglist ツ 

taglist

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#tom holland #tiktok #tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland blurbs #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #peter parker #spider-man #tiktok masterlist #peter parker imagines #spider-man imagines #funny #comedy #peter parker x reader #spider-man x reader #spider-man fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #spider-man smut #spider-man fluff #spider-man angst #kelly's fluff #kelly's blurbs

[atlafan]

It’s Electric - One Shot

a/n: I have no idea what this is or why I thought of it, but enjoy CEO!Harry with a blue collar!Y/N

Warnings: Smut (slow burn, I’m so sorry.) Not proofread, sorry!

Words: 15.2K

Being a female, blue collar worker was interesting to say the least. Most of the guys you worked with were either fresh out of college and starting their apprenticeship, or they were in their mid-forties, married with kids. You did the college thing, and got a degree in mathematics, but you didn’t want to be a teacher, and you sure as hell didn’t want to go into computer science. Your father was an electrician, and you asked him for help getting into his union. Electrical work involved a lot of math, especially trigonometry.

You were in your mid-twenties, able to live alone, and working a job that had good benefits. A lot of your friends didn’t quite understand it because you sometimes had to work traditional holidays, and you really couldn’t take time off. But the overtime pay was incredible, and when you were able to take a vacation, you had plenty of money for a good time. The one thing you were sort of missing was companionship.

Most of the guys on the job just assumed you were gay. It was a stupid stereotype. To be fair, you did have to wear a lot of flannel and you never wore makeup, and you constantly had hat hair from your hardhat. Again, a lot of stupid stereotypes.

Your union had gotten a contract together to do maintenance on a specific building in the city. It happened to also be where one of your best friends works so you’d be able to go on lunch together.

“Y/N!” She squeals. “Look at you, I’ve never seen you on the job before.” She tugs at your flannel. “I think you’re the reason mom jeans came back into style, you look so cute.” She was the best hype man there was.

“Thanks, Stacey.” You chuckle. “I don’t wanna get in trouble, I’ll see you at lunch, okay?”

You had never changed so many lightbulbs in one sitting. You hated maintenance work, but it beat being on unemployment. Next on the list was to run some tests on the electrical outlets. You make your way through specific people’s offices. You see your friend again, her desk was outside the CEO’s. She was his executive assistant.

“Let me just make sure he’s not on a call.” She says and you nod. She knocks on the door and opens it. “Mr. Styles? The maintenance crew is here to run inspections in your office.”

“Thanks, send ‘em in.”

She smiles and gestures for you to go in. She grabs you first, pulling you back.

“Remember, he’s British, and very hot.”

“Stacey…you have a boyfriend.”

“I’m well aware, I’m just preparing you.”

You roll your eyes and walk in.

“I’ll try to keep it brief.” You tell him and he nods. You click your pen and make a few notes on your clip board. You grab your outlet tester from your tool belt and get to work. He tries to continue typing at his desk, but curiosity gets the better of him.

“This might sound rude, but I was expecting some old guy to come here for this.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” You smirk at him and continue around the room. “This office is huge.”

“Well…it should be. Worked hard enough for it.”

“Right, you’re the CEO?”

“That’s right, darlin’.”

“Don’t call me that.” You make a disgusted face.

“Sorry, it’s just something I say.” He blushes.

“I need to get under there.”

“Excuse me?”

“Under your desk, I need to check the floor outlets.”

“Oh.” He stands up and moves his chair out of the way. He looks away as you get on your hands and knees, but he’s a man, so his eyes flicker down to your ass. He looks away immediately. You stand back up and make some notes.

“Alright, all set. Have a good one.”

“That’s it?”

“Pretty routine inspection. You all take good care of your offices. Nothing to worry about. We replaced all the lightbulbs that needed it, made them all LED.”

“Thanks.” He smiles.

You walk out and confirm with Stacey where you’ll be meeting her for lunch. Harry notices this. After you’re gone, Harry goes out to Stacey’s desk.

“Stacey, you’re friends with that woman?”

“Yeah! We go way back, Mr. Styles. She’s my best friend, actually. We’re having lunch in a bit, would you like to join us?”

“No.” He chuckles. “No, that’s alright. Um…so she’s an electrician?”

“Mhm, she’s really smart. She was top of her apprenticeship program a few years ago. She’s part of some union now that he dad was in. She likes it.”

“Ah…” He looks away for a moment. “You and I know each other pretty well at this point, right?”

“I’d say so. I mean, my boyfriend and I have been to your house for parties.” You giggle. “Why?”

“Is she single?”

‘Y/N? Yeah! Totally single.” She beams. “Not that she can’t get a date, she can. She’s just been busy lately.” She bites her bottom lip. “Do you…want me to give you her number?”

“Only if she wants to. See what she thought of me on your lunch, would you?”

“I’m on it.”

//

You and Stacey meet up at a Panera Bread not too far from the office building. You’d be doing inspections there all week, on every floor.

“Alright, I’m just going to come right out and say it. Harry wants your number!” She squeals.

You nearly choke on your salad.

“Who?!”

“Harry! Mr. Styles, my boss. The CEO of-“

“Okay, okay. What the fuck, I talked to him for like two seconds. He also called me darling, I didn’t like that.”

“He calls everyone darling, or love. He’s British, remember.”

“What does that have to…? Never mind.” You shake your head.

“He must think you’re cute. He hasn’t dated in a while, as far as I know. He’s super sweet, Y/N. Can I give him your number, please? He could really sweep you off your feet.”

“I’m not looking to be swept, I’m looking for a partner, someone to spend time with. Not someone who flashes cash around.”

“You’re making excuses.”

“Fine.” You shrug. “Give him my number.”

Stacey can’t wait to get back up to her office to give Harry your number. She knocks on his door and enters. He’s just finishing his lunch.

“Here.” She slaps a piece of paper on his desk. “That’s her number. I’ll warn you, she’s stubborn, so…play it cool.”

“Don’t I always?”

“I said cool, not suave. She hates that shit.”

“When should I call? I don’t wanna seem too eager…”

“She might think you’re playing around if you don’t call her tonight. Call her after work.”

//

You were hanging out on your couch, fresh out of the shower in a tank top and shorts, digging into a pint of ice cream. Your phone goes off, and you see it’s not anyone you know. You swipe to answer and stick your phone between your cheek and shoulder.

“Hello?”

“Hi, uh, is this Y/N?”

“This is she.”

“It’s Harry.”

“Who? Oh! Mr. Styles from the office building.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “That’s me.”  

“Stacey gave you my number?”

“She did. I hope it’s alright that I asked her for it.”

“Hey, however your relationship works is none of my business.” You take a bite of your ice cream. “So, why’d you want my number anyways?”

“So I could ask you out.”

For the second time today you choke on your food.

“Excuse me, one second.”

He hears you coughing and he tries not to laugh. You get a glass of water, and sit back down.

“Sorry about that.”

“No worries.”

“Why do you want to ask me out?”

“I, well, to be blunt I’m attracted to you.”

“Why?” You scoff. “Got a thing for girls in loose jeans?”

“They weren’t that loose.”

“What?”

“Nothing, listen, I think you’re pretty and I just thought-“

“Pretty? Wow.” You scoff.

“You’re really going to make me work for this, aren’t you?” He sighs.

“Hard work doesn’t seem foreign to you. It’s how you got that nice office of yours isn’t it?”

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to go out for dinner with me some time?”

“I’m free Saturday if you are.”

“I’m free.”

“Pick me up at seven, I’ll text you my address when the time comes.” You hang up before he has a second to say anything else.

You text Stacey to let her know you’d be going out with Harry on Saturday. You were actually sort of excited.

//

On Saturday, you go to your hairdresser for a blow out, and to have your nails done. It was a very nice treat. You get your make up on and pick out one of the dresses you never get to wear. It was black and simple, but you were exited to wear it. You get a call from Harry right at seven.

“Hello?”

“Just pulled up, I’m downstairs.”

“Be down in a second.” You grab your purse and head down.

Harry had a suit on and was standing outside a black car. His jaw nearly drops when he sees you. All he had to go on was that day in his office. You looked like a completely different person.

“You look…lovely.”

“Thanks.” You smile. “I don’t get to dress up very often.” You blush slightly.

He opens the back door of the car for you and you raise an eyebrow.

“I have a driver.”

“Oh…fancy.”

You slide into the car, and Harry comes around on the other side. He taps on the partition, and the car moves.

“I hope you like Asian food.”

“Love it.” You say. “Oh! Are we going to that hibachi place?”

“No, but it’ll sort of be like that.”

“Do you always use a driver?”

“For city stuff, yeah. When I’m out at the beach or upstate I drive myself. Sometimes I get my picture taken when I’m out, learned a long time ago it’s best to just have a driver.”

“Like…paparazzi?”

“Yeah…sometimes. Not that often anymore. There was this, uh, model that I dated a few years ago-“

“Tell me again, why were you so attracted to me?”

“You caught my attention. Not a lot of people do.”

Your cheeks grow slightly red. You feel the car come to a full stop. The driver gets out and opens the door for you. Harry slides out after you. You watch as he tells the driver how long you’ll roughly be. As you walk into the restaurant, the hostess greets Harry almost immediately. You follow her past the main dining area, and are brought into a private dining room. There was a table for two set up already. You give him a confused look.

“I like my privacy.” He pulls your chair out for your and you sit down.

“Is there any particular reason we’re sitting next to each other.”

“The chef is going to make our food for us in a few minutes. Told you it was sort of like hibachi.” He grabs the bottle of wine on the table and opens it. “Would you like some? It’s plum wine, it’s delicious.”

“Um…sure.” He pours you some and you take a small sip. “Hm, different.”

“So, how does one become an electrician?”

“How does one become a CEO?” You smirk. “Lots of hard work, school, and luck.”

Before Harry can speak again the chef walks in, and a few other follow him in with a cart. There was a flat top where he’d be able to make whatever you wanted. One of the waiters brings over a tray of sushi to start with. You grab your chopsticks and take a piece.

“Oh, that’s good. I love sashimi.” You say.

“Good evening, folks.” The chef smiles. “Tonight I’ll be preparing a delicious steak, kale salad, and for dessert fried banana ice cream.”

“That all work for you? I sorta had to tell them ahead of time.”

“Sounds amazing.”

You watch as the chef prepares the steak and the kale. It smelled delicious already, and it was cool to watch as it was done. You and Harry continue to enjoy the sushi in the meantime.

“Are you going to answer my question?”

“About what?”

“Becoming an electrician.”

“Oh…well, my dad was one, and he was in a union. I have a B.S. in Mathematics, but I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with it, so I asked my dad for some help getting into the union, and the rest was history. I get to use my degree every day. Not a lot of people can say that.” You smile and take a sip of the wine. “Do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

“Schmooze on a first date.”

“I’m not schmoozing.” He gasps.

“I’m just saying…this is, like, really fancy. You could have taken me to a burger joint, I’m not picky. I just don’t want you thinking you to need to flash your cash around. I get it, you’re reach and do well for yourself, you know? I wanna know what’s underneath all that.”

Two plates are put in front of you.

“Thank you.” Harry says to the chef and everyone else leaves the room. “I wasn’t trying to flash my cash.” He cuts his steak and takes a bite. “I just wanted to show you a good time.”

“By booking a private room at a really nice restaurant?” You smirk and take a bite of your steak. “Although, this food is delicious.” You use your napkin to pat the corners of your mouth gently. “How’d you get into the business that you’re in?”

“Well, I always wanted to be in sales, do a little bit of traveling, that kind of stuff. When I was in uni, the idea of property management sort of intrigued me, so I looked a little more into that. I started off in the mail room while I was getting my MBA, and then just sort of worked my way up. I bet my company has provided a lot of work to your union, other than just maintenance.”

“It definitely does, I recognized the name. You guys have put up buildings all over the place. You’re kind of like Richard Gere’s character in Pretty Woman.”

“I suppose I am! I love that movie.” He clears his throat. “So, you didn’t want to become an engineer or anything?”

“Nope, I like working with my hands.” You shrug and take a sip of your wine.

“Is it hard being in a male dominated profession?”

“Isn’t it pretty male dominated up in your office?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Most of the women up there were either assistants or other low ranking positions.”

“Are you saying your friend works a low ranking position as my executive assistant?”

“Stacey likes what she does, she feels fulfilled and needed, at least that’s what she tells me. I’m just saying, anywhere I would have gone, it would probably look the same. Besides, I’m not the only woman on the job, I’m just one of few, and I’m one of the younger ones. The guys are all nice enough.”

A few moments later a waiter comes in to clear the plates and someone else brings out the fried ice cream.

“I’ve never had this before.” You smile. “I’m excited to try it.”

“Fried ice cream is delicious, especially after eating a steak with so many spices in it.”

You both dig in. You lick your lips after taking a bite.

“Mm, that is so good.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

Harry squared up the bill, and out the two of you went. You thanked him over and over for paying. He wanted to ask if you felt like grabbing another drink anywhere, but he wasn’t so sure if you’d be into it. Maybe that could be saved for a second date. His driver brings you home and Harry gets out to walk you up the steps of your building.

“I had a great time.” He blushes. “I’m glad we could do this.” All you do is smile and nod. “Um, well, so I have your number, I’ll give you another call sometime?”

“Okay.” You get your keys out of your purse. “Thanks again for dinner.”

You key into your building and he watches you disappear inside. He was stunned. Not even a goodnight kiss, hell, even a hug would have sufficed. Usually when Harry took a woman out on a date at the very least he got a kiss on the cheek, if not that most of the time he would get invited up. Did he do something wrong? Were you not as attracted to him as he was to you?

//

“Tell me everything! I wanna know what to expect tomorrow morning and if I need to add a caramel swirl to his coffee.” Stacey giggles over the phone with you the next morning.

“It was…okay.”

“Just okay?! Didn’t he take you to that nice Japanese place?”

“Yeah, the food was excellent, but the atmosphere was weird.”

“What do you mean?”

“He had us seated in a private room and we basically had this personal chef. It was awkward when things got a little quiet. There was a little music in the background, but I would have felt more at ease in the main dining area.”

“He likes his privacy.”

“So he said. Apparently sometimes paparazzi follow him?”

“Yeah, about a year ago he was dating this Italian model. He started getting photographed. They followed him around a bit after they broke up, but we haven’t seen too many in a while.”

“I don’t know why he’d want to go from a model to me…”

“Oh, stop it. You’re gorgeous! So…are you saying you won’t see him again?”

“I don’t see why I would. I didn’t feel any sparks flying between us. He seems sort of hollow, Stace.”

“No! He’s so sweet! He can just be sort of…I don’t know…awkward. He’s amazing when he’s making a deal, but outside of work I know he can be a little social awkward.”

“I don’t think I wanna be with someone as rich as he is.”

“He was just trying to impress you, I’m sure. You didn’t have any fun?”

“I had a little…but not enough to go on a second date.”

Stacey swallowed hard. Harry was a very sweet man, and extremely respectful…but he wanted something he worked for it. There was no way he was going to let this, or you, go.

//

“Morning, Stacey.” He says to her with a smile. He grabs his coffee from her desk.

“Morning, Mr. Styles.”

“Have a good weekend?” He asks as she follows her in. He looks at the mail she’s already put on his desk.

“Yeah, Dan and I visited his parents out at the lake. It was nice.”

“Good for you guys.” He looks at her and smiles. “Been together a few years now, right? When’s he popping the question?”

“Oh, Harry.” She swats a hand at him as he chuckles. “Soon. Anyways, you’ve got a meeting at nine, and then this afternoon you’re to go to that new property we just bought. The construction workers will be there, it’ll be good for you to meet the crew.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. I’m dying to see the place again. Haven’t been since we saw it last.” He sits down at his desk. “Hate wearing those hard hats though, they always mess up my hair.” He smirks.

“I don’t think anything could mess up your hair.” She laughs and turns to leave to go back to his desk.

“Wait, uh, did you happen to speak with Y/N at all?”

“Oh! Um, was this past Saturday the big date?”

“You know it was, quit playing.”

“We spoke, yeah.”

“Did she mention me at all? Trying to gauge when I should call her next.”

“Oh, so you wanna see her again?”

“I do.” He smiles. “So, she say anything?”

“Yeah…um, she said she had a nice time.”

“Was that it?”

“Pretty much, but to be fair, we talked more about my weekend. Barely let her get a word in, you know how I can be sometimes.”

Stacey walks awkwardly back to her desk. She prayed that if he did reach out to you, you’d at least let him down easy.

//

Harry leaves around one in the afternoon to head to the property. He and the COO go together in a car. When they get there they both shake the foreman’s hand and walk around the property.

“The electrician’s showed up this morning. They’ve certainly got their work cut out for them.” The foreman says. “Great workers though, union contract just how you like.”

Harry nods and continues walking. He notices the electricians on their afternoon coffee break.

“Check out the suits.” Frank says to you. You smirk and look over your shoulder. You immediately look back at Frank. “What?”

“I know that guy…the one in the blue suit.”

“No shit, how?”

“He, uh, took me to dinner on Saturday.”

“What?!”

“My friend is his executive assistant, she gave him my number after we met last week doing those inspections.”

“No offense, but I thought you were gay.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“Frank.” You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“So…some big wig took you out? How was it?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it, and I certainly don’t want to-“

“Y/N?”

You turn around slowly to look at him.

“Hi Harry.”

“Y/N, you should address him as Mr. Styles.” Your foreman says.

“That’s quite alright, we know each other.” He smiles at you.

“We sure do, excuse me.” You grab your hard hat, stick it on, and head inside with Frank.

“How do you know her?” The foreman asks Harry.

“She’s good friends with my assistant.”

The foreman brings Harry and the COO inside to show them the bit of progress that’s been made on the interior thus far. Harry sees you up on a ladder helping a wire get fed through a hole.

“Got it!” You yell up, and secure it.

Harry and the COO stick around for quite some time making sure everything was to their liking. He’s there until the end of the work day and sees you walking with your toolbox to your car. You wave goodbye to Frank as you get everything in your trunk. It was a nice size SUV. He watches as you unclip your tool belt and slightly rub at your hip bones. He decides to come over to you.

“Hi again.” He smiles and you nearly jump.

“Jesus, you’re just everywhere.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, darling.” You scrunch your face at the word. “Sorry.”

“You apologize a lot.” You shake your head and throw your hard hat into your trunk. You take your hair out of its bun, and shake your hair out. “Can I help you with something?” You close your trunk and lean against your car, crossing your arms.

“I just, um, well, I was wondering when I could see you again.”

“You’re seeing me now.”

He chuckles and shakes his head.

“I mean, when can I take you on another date?”

“Harry…” You look down, then back up to him. “I…”

“I should have texted you afterwards, right?” He sucks his teeth. “I didn’t wanna seem too eager.”

“You really had that good a time with me that you wanna take me out again?”

“Well, yeah. Didn’t you?”

You had two choices. You could either crush the man in front of you and walk away, or you could cut the guy a break and give it another go. Would it be so bad to let him take you out again? Maybe this time you could call the shots.

“I did.” You swallow. “I’d like to go out again.”

“Great!” He beams at you. “I was thinking we could-“

“I’d like to plan it.”

“Oh…well, alright. What did you have in mind?”

“You’ll find out Friday night. You’re free then?”

“I can definitely make myself available.”

“Perfect.” You turn on your heel and get into your car. Once again you leave him standing there, stunned.

//

“You’re giving it another shot?!” Stacey practically screams through the phone.

“Mhm.”

“What made you decide?”

“Well, he was just standing right in front of me. I felt sort of bad. I figured maybe I was being too harsh before. It can’t hurt to go out again.”

“Where are you going to take him?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I was thinking of going to that bar I’ve been to with Frank. I’ve taken you a couple of times.”

“Oh! That place with the darts and the live music?”

“Yeah! I think he needs a night to be a little less fancy, don’t you?”

“Definitely! He won’t know what hit him.”

//

Harry was on cloud nine all week. He couldn’t wait to see you again. He even had flowers sent to your job site. You were thoroughly embarrassed. The guys all gave you shit for it. He was a little surprised when you didn’t even text him to thank him for them, but he just brushed it off and kept his cool. When you did finally text him Thursday evening, he nearly squealed.

You: what’s your address? I’ll be picking you up around eight tomorrow

Harry: late start to the evening, where we headed?

You: that’s for me to know ;)

His stomach filled with butterflies all because you sent a winky face. He was having a few doubts that maybe you didn’t like him that much, but you were being playful with him now. This was good.

//

Your hair was down and wavy, you had a white tank top on with a dangly necklace, and some jeans. You drive to Harry’s building. It was much nicer than yours, naturally. You text him and let him know you’re on the street. He comes walking out moments later in a black silk shirt and a pair of yellow patterned dress pants. You squinted through the window and noticed they were sort of tight around his thighs. He waves at you and you wave back.

“This is fun already.” He says as he buckles up. He looks down at you. “I’m overdressed.”

“Not at all. You’re dressed like you, that’s good. This is how I like to dress.”

“You look cute.” He says.

“Thanks.” You start to drive off towards the bar.

“So, now will you tell me where we’re going?”

“To a bar, hope you’re thirsty.” You smirk at him.

As you continue to drive Harry takes note of the music on the radio and even the way you drive the car. You were only using one hand, on the bottom of the wheel. You were so easy going.

“This is a nice car.”

“Thanks, bought it last year. I used have a dinged up old truck.”

“Do you miss having a truck?”

“Not really.” You shrug. “I wanted something more like this. When you have a truck everyone always wants your help with stuff. It’s bad enough that I’m the handy friend.” You chuckle. “I’m always being asked to help repair stuff or whatever. I don’t mind, but sometimes it’s a lot.”

You get over to the bar and find a place to park.

“Can’t remember the last time I was on this side of town.” He comments as you walk inside.

There were a lot people around, and the bar itself was packed. There was some sports game playing, but it wouldn’t be on long once the live band would start. There were people playing darts and munching on popcorn.

“Go snag a booth, I’ll get us some beers.”

“Oh, uh…”

“What’s a matter?”

“I don’t really like beer.” He takes his wallet out. “I can grab the drinks, tell me what you want.”

“I want you to go grab us a booth. I’ll get you something other than beer.”

You turn and go up to the bar. You greet the bartender who knows you pretty well. You decide that if Harry didn’t want beer, then you wouldn’t get one either.

“Two long islands.” You grin.

You get your drinks and find Harry at a booth. He stuck out like a sore thumb, he wasn’t hard to find. You place the glasses on the table.

“I’ll grab us some popcorn. We’ll grab some real food later.”

You go up to the popcorn machine and grab a bowl to fill up. You say hello to some people you recognize and head back to the booth.

“What made you decide on a long island ice tea?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Thought it would be fun to just get drunk.” You smile. “What sort of mixed drinks do you usually get?”

“I don’t. I usually just get a scotch or something.”

“Ew.” You grimace and then take a sip of your drink. “This is much more fun.”

“You could have gotten a beer still.”

You toss a piece of popcorn into your mouth and take another sip. Harry takes a sip as well and coughs when he’s done.

“Bit heavy handed.”

“I can get you something else…”

“No, it’s fine.” He smiles. “Do you come here a lot?”

“Sometimes. Some buddies from work brought me here, and I liked it. They have free darts, and live music. The band should be starting soon.”

You were two drinks in, and you both were giggling messes. The band was loud, but fun. You had gotten into a little game of getting popcorn into the other’s mouth. Maybe Harry could let his hair down a little and act like a normal person.

By the time you each were on your third drink, you definitely knew you were drunk, and so did Harry. He was having a great time.

“I’m hungry, are you hungry?!” You had yell over the music.

“Starved!”

“Come on!”

You grab his wrist as you walk out of the place. It’s a bit chilly outside, and without thinking, Harry wraps his arm around your shoulders as you walk. You wrap yours around his waist, and he feels butterflies again. You lead him to a McDonald’s and walk in.

“Two medium big mac meals, please.” You slur as you walk up to the counter.

“I’m paying.” Harry insists.

“Nope, I got it.” You slap your credit card down. “Go fill up our drinks, I’ll wait for the food.”

Harry shuffles over to the drink station and fills the paper cups up with coke. You come over to the table he found and you both dive into the greasy food.

“Mm, I can’t remember the last time I had McDonald’s.” He grunts as he eats the food.

“Right?! It’s like, the perfect drunk food.” You suck down the coke. “I would have gotten us some flurries but the machine’s broken.”

“I have ice cream back at my place…got stuff to make sundaes actually.”

“Are you kidding?!”

“Nope, always keep that stuff around. Never know when you’re gonna need some hot fudge.”

“Well, I know where we’re going next.”

“What about your car? We’re both way too fucked up to drive.”

“It’s called uber.”

“Nonsense, I’ll call my-“

“He’ll be here in two minutes, finish up your fries.” You say, looking at your phone.

“You’re very impulsive.” He chuckles and throws some fries into his mouth.

“Live a little.” You yank him out of the booth and go outside.

You both crawl into the uber, and giggle during the ride. Harry hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. When you get to Harry’s building, he says hello to the doorman, and you just smile and wave. He keeps his hand on the small of your back as he leads you into the elevator. It was a beautiful lobby. You watch, through your foggy eyes, as Harry presses the button for the top floor where all of the pent house suites were. He leads you down a hall and keys into his place. You jaw nearly hits the floor.

“I didn’t know they made apartments this big. It’s like…a house in here!” You walk around. “Is this a staircase?!”

“Yeah, it’s two stories. There’s four bedrooms total. My main guest room is down here, and then upstairs are the rest. Got an office down that way, nice big balcony.”

“What’s a single guy need all this space for?”

“Got family and friends that come to visit. I end up hosting functions quite a bit too. Catered events, and all that.” He grabs your hand to lead you into his massive kitchen. “Can I get you some water?”

“Nope, got any alcohol?”

“You want more to drink?!”

“We’re going to have ice cream right? How about some kalua?”

“You know, I do have some. I could put it into some shot glasses.”

“Works for me.” You smile.

Harry get everything out for the sundaes. His kitchen looked like it belonged in a restaurant, but it made sense since he did say he had catered events. If he had cooks come they’d need state of the art equipment. He runs the scoop under some warm water, rolls up one of his sleeves and scoops the ice cream into two bowls. Your eyes widen as you see the veins in his hand and forearm peek out. He adds the warmed up fudge, sprinkles some nuts, and then adds some whip cream.

“Why do you have all this stuff?” You ask as you make up the shots.

“We had an ice cream social here a week or so ago. I like having themed parties.” He bites into his ice cream and moans. “I hate throwing out leftovers.”

“This fudge is really rich.” You lick your lips after taking a bite.

“Shoulda made milk shakes with this.” He takes his shot of kalua and so do you.

“Next time.” You spoon my ice cream into your mouth.

“Next time, eh?”

“Sure.” You smile. “I’m having a good time.”

“Better than last time?”

“Harry.” You put your bowl down and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll admit, I was pretty skeptical, but when you let your hair down, you’re a lot of fun.”

“So…you didn’t have any fun last time?”

“It’s not that I didn’t.” You say, shoveling more ice cream into your mouth. “But I feel like I got to know you better tonight.” You hop up on his counter and sit there comfortably as you finish your ice cream. A little bit of hot fudge lingers on the corner of your mouth.

“You have a little, uh…” He taps the corner of his mouth to show you. He moves to stand between your legs and you look up at him.

“Did I get it?”

“Not exactly.” He cups your cheeks and leans in. You can feel his breath on you. He runs his thumb over the spot. “Got it.” He sucks his thumb into his mouth and smirks at you.

Just as he’s about to turn to grab the bowls you grab at the collar of his shirt, and pull him to you, crashing your lips to his. He sinks into it, only for a second before backing away. He presses his forehead to yours.

“What’s wrong?” You breathe.

“I don’t want this to happen like this.”

“Like what?”

He steps away and looks at you.

“We’re both pretty out of sorts, Y/N.”

“It was just a kiss…”

“But it could lead to more, and I don’t feel comfortable with that.”

“Are you really going to tell me you’ve never hooked up drunk?”

“I have.”

“So…I’m sorry, I’m just really confused.” You hop down so you can stand on your feet.

“Y/N.” He cups your cheeks so you’ll look at him. “I want to be completely sober so I can fully enjoy you.”

“You’re…such a weirdo, Harry. Who says shit like that?” You step away from him.

“You know, most people find me charming.”

“Well, then I guess I’m not most people.” You roll your eyes at yourself. “Ugh, I didn’t mean for that to sound like I’m not like other girls, that would be a weird thing to say. I feel like you say things you think I’d wanna hear.”

“No, I really feel that way. I don’t want…look, if we decided to do it, I’d wanna remember it, that’s all I was trying to say.”

“So just say it like that!” You start laughing. “That I can understand.”

“I don’t know what to say around you. It’s like everything I do is wrong.”

“Not true.” You grab the whip cream can and spray some into your mouth. “You make a mean sundae.”

“Don’t hog it.” He opens his mouth and you spray some whip cream into his mouth. You both giggle.

“So…you don’t even want to keep kissing?”

“I do, but I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“What do you wanna do instead? My car’s all the way back at the bar, I’m way too fucked to drive…”

“You could stay here if you want. I could give you some pj’s and-“

“No, I’d rather sleep in my own bed.”

“I could call my driver.”

“This late?!”

“He’s on call.” Harry takes out his phone and sends a text. “It’s his job.”

“You’ll come for the ride?”

“Of course!” He smiles. “I have a question for you…”

“Alright.”

“Did you get the flowers I sent you earlier this week?”

“I did.” You move some hair from your face. “I’m sure you meant well, but you shouldn’t do that while I’m working again.”

“Why?” He frowns.

“It was embarrassing. Some of the guys gave me shit for it. Just…if you do it again, I mean, I like getting flowers, just have them sent to my apartment. I don’t need gifts at work. I didn’t even know where to put them.”

“So, we’re definitely seeing each other again?”

“I’d like to.” You smile.

“Great.” He smiles back. “Sorry…I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Do you want me to have someone fired? Cause I can do that.”

“No.” You laugh. “But thanks.”

Harry leads you down to the car and you both get in the back seat. You sit really close to him. You were incredibly riled up and horny. It was the alcohol, but you were sort of disappointed that you wouldn’t be getting laid, and it sort of turned you on that Harry was being such a gentleman. You look up at him.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He looks down at you.

You move his arm to put it around you, and you look up at him with big eyes. He sighs and leans in to kiss you. His lips were so soft, and he still tasted like the hot fudge. Your hands slide up to his hair and tug on his curls. You just wanted his tongue in your mouth, but he was being so timid. His other hand goes down to your thigh, and he squeezes it, his thumb digging in to your inner thigh. You whimper slightly and then he lets go of you. The car comes to a stop, and your door is opened by the driver. Harry gets out to walk you up to your door.

“I’m going to be out of town for the next ten days.” He says, tucking some hair behind your ear. “But when I get back, I’d love to see you again.”

“Me too.”

“Good.” He gives you one last kiss before getting back into the car. He makes sure you’re inside the building before he lets the driver go. He presses the button for the partition to go down. “Charlie, I had my doubts, I really did, but she likes me, mate.”

“That’s great, sir. I’m glad she agreed to see you again.”

“Me too. She’s so…different! She’s sort of blunt too. I like that. I feel like women always just like me for my money, but she could care less! This could really be something, I can feel it.”

//

You told Stacey all about your date with Harry, and how good of a kisser he was. You weren’t sure how’d you last the next ten days without his lips on yours again, but you’d find ways to manage. Work was a great distraction. However, your friends continued to shit on you. One of them snuck a magazine that had Harry on the cover into your toolbox.

“Very funny.” You roll your eyes as they laugh. “What’s so funny that he likes me?”

“It’s not funny, think they’re just jealous.” Frank smirks and looks at the magazine. “It’s just odd that you’re into him.”

“He’s not exactly the type of guy I’d usually be interested in, but he means well. He’s sweet…in his own weird way. He’s quirky. I took him to that bar we’ve been to on Friday, we had a great time.”

“Look at you, trying something for a second time. When do you see him next?”

“I don’t know. He’s out of town for a couple of weeks.”

“Doing what?”

“How the fuck should I know? I didn’t ask.”

“Why not?”

“It’s none of my business. It’s not like he’s my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, but he is the guy you’re seeing.”

“I’ve been on two dates with him, nothing’s set in stone.” Your morning coffee break ends you sigh. “Great, time to go into this stupid basement.” You put your hardhat on and a mask and head in with Frank.

//

On Thursday evening, you were just hanging out, watching TV after a long day of work. Your phone goes off and you see it’s a call from Harry.

“Hello?”

“Hi, beautiful!”

You’re sitting there with your hair up in a messy bun, pimple patches on your blemishes, and a raggedy t-shirt with stains all over it. You roll your eyes.

“What’s up?”

“Well, I finally got a free moment, and I wanted to call you. Are you busy? Should be about eight o’clock, right?”

“Yeah it is…where are you?”

“I’m in London.”

You think for a moment and you gasp.

“Harry, it’s like two in the morning over there!”

“Like I said, I finally got a free moment. I’m just getting into my flat, getting cozy.”

“What did you go to London for?”

“Business of course…and to see some family. Killing two birds with one stone.”

“Do you travel a lot?”

“Sometimes. There were some buildings I wanted to look at out here.”

“How come you didn’t bring Stacey?”

“She doesn’t always need to travel with me. We’ve connected, don’t worry. I’m not one of those helpless idiots who can’t survive without their assistant. Besides, need her there to hold down the fort.” You hear some shuffling and then the creaking of a bed, and a big sigh from him.

“So…what kept you out so late?”

“Business.”

“What Business could you possibly need to conduct at two in the morning?”

“Things operate differently over here. People like to go out late. I actually left early because I was tired.”

“That’s wild.”

“Very.” He chuckles. “What are you up to?”

“I was just watching some TV before I hit the sack.”

“Anything good on?”

“Not really.” You laugh and turn the TV off. “Kinda like hearing your voice.” You slap your forehead because you literally don’t know what possessed you to say that.

“Like hearing yours too. Sorry I haven’t been able to text much.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not, really. I wouldn’t want you to think I wasn’t interested or something.”

“I didn’t.”

“Good, because I’m still really interested.”

“When do you come back?”

“Monday evening, then it’s back to the office Tuesday.”

“You never stop, do you…”

“It’s hard not to, but I like what I do.”

“I would hope so.”

“How’s your week been?”

“You should get some sleep.”

“Can’t, too awake now. Tell me how your week was, how’s the building coming along?”

“I’ve been in a dimly lit crawl space in the basement feeding wires all week. Tomorrow’s the last day of doing that. Then next week my group of people will move up to the regular basement, and then after that we’ll move on to the lobby. Other people are working on the outside as well, and then once all that’s done we’ll be able to move on to the individual offices inside.”

“Wow, that’s a lot.”

“Mhm, but it’s honest work. I can take a step back at the end of the day and see what I’ve done. I like that.”

“You’re a visual person, then.”

“I am.”

“So am I.”

“Nice to know we have one thing in common.”

“We have other things in common.” He sounds offended.

“Like what?” You giggle and sit with your knees hugged to your chest. His voice over the phone was oddly soothing to you.

“Well…I’d say we both enjoy a good joke. We both like food, although, I have to say, my stomach was pretty angry with me after I had that bic mac.”

You burst out laughing.

“So was mine. It’s always good going in.”

“Mhm, and we like each other.”

“Oh, we do?” You ask sarcastically. “Teasing. I like you.”

“You didn’t at first though.”

“You didn’t make a great impression by calling me darling in your office.”

“If I knew how derogatory it was going to come off, I never would have said it. It’s just…part of my vocabulary.”

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“When I get back, I’d love to see you again. Maybe we could have lunch or something.”

“On my jobsite? I don’t think so.”

“We could go out for dinner, then? I mean, I’ll be coming by the site next week to check out the progress.”

“Please, don’t even acknowledge me if you see me. I want things to be professional.”

“Reputation to uphold?”

“Sort of. I have a couple good friends, but not all of the guys are so accepting of women on the job. I don’t want any of them thinking I’m getting special treatment or anything because I know you. Someone put a magazine that had you on the cover in my tool box as a prank.”

“I’m sorry…I don’t really know what the big deal is though.”

“It’s like I’m in elementary school and everyone found out about my cruck. Boys never really grow up, so I’ve come to find out.”

“Can’t say I can argue with that. We’re an immature lot.” He chuckles and then yawns.

“You should really go to sleep.”

“But I like talking to you.”

“You can call me this weekend.”

“Oh, that sounds nice.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight…sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You sigh as you hang up. Your stomach felt weird. Did you have butterflies? You never had butterflies. Harry was definitely growing on you.

//

Wednesday morning, Harry came to the jobsite to check things out. He stayed in the trailer with the foreman with quite some time before going inside the building. He didn’t see you, and he was sort of sad about it. He hears a whistling noise and sees a bunch of people filing out and taking their hard hats off.

“Morning coffee break.” The foreman explains. Harry nods and squints at everyone. His eyes widen when he spots you.

He watches as you grab your thermos and pour your coffee into the little cap that works as a cup. He desperately wants to go over and say hi, but he also wanted to respect what you asked of him.

“Hey, Y/N, isn’t that your boyfriend?” One of the guys says and makes kissy noises. “Go say hi, give him a big wet one for us. Show him some appreciation for giving the union so much work.”

“Very funny.” You roll your eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend. We’ve been out two times.”

“That guy’s dated models, what’s so great about you?”

“Bob.” Frank says, warningly. “Don’t be a prick.”

Harry watches as the group laughs, and Frank puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Everything alright over there?” He asks the foreman.

“Yeah, they’re just giving her a tough time. They seem to think you’re her boyfriend.”

“And what if I was? Is that supposed to be funny?”

“No, sir, of course not…it’s just…up until a couple weeks ago everyone thought she was gay, or at least, just not into dudes.”

“Why? Because she didn’t try to fuck one of the other guys? She’s a beautiful woman, and-“ Harry stops himself. He can feel his blood boiling. He wasn’t your boyfriend, and he knew that, but he still wanted to defend you.

“What’s it like fucking a dude with so much money? Surprised you haven’t quit yet to become his live in lady.”

“Bob, I’m about two seconds away from ripping your balls off.”

“Not a very nice thing to say.”

“You’re being a dick, Bob.” Frank says. “Why do you wanna know what it’s like to fuck Mr. Styles for? You like him too?” He smirks.

“Frank.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “What’s happening here, you’re going to turn this around to make some gay joke to defend me? Not cool. You all need to grow the fuck up.” You finish your coffee, put your hardhat back on and storm off.

Harry watches the scene and goes over to the group of men since you now left.

“Everything alright over here?” He asks them. The foreman was shaking behind him.

“Just fine, sir.” Bob says.

“Are we sure? Because that worker seemed a bit upset. I hope you’re all working as a team, I hate to see people not being team players. It makes getting a job done well very difficult.”

“The guys have been ragging on her because of you.” Frank says. “Apparently they think it’s funny that you’ve been out a couple of times.” He turns to all of them. “I think you all forget that she works with us and has fun just like the rest of us, but she’s still a woman. She’s allowed to go out on dates with people not like us. Just because she doesn’t want any of you doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve to find someone.”

Frank huffs and storms off himself. Harry was impressed by him.

“I don’t have much to add to that other than that her personal life is just that, personal. Please remember that, and keep things professional. Then, none of his will have a problem.” He says sternly and walks away. The foremen glares at all of them and follows Harry.

He just wanted to make sure you were okay. He saw you inside, back to work, as if nothing had happened. Frank was holding the latter you were on. He still wanted to respect what you had asked, so he turns and walks back out of the building.

//

Stacey had her phone out when Harry got back to the office. She was texting furiously with someone. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she had a frown on her face.

“Everything alright, love?” Harry asks, concerned.

“With me, yeah.” She looks up at him and smiles. “I’m proud of you.”

“For what?”

“For not stepping in to defend her. She’s good at taking care of herself.”

“So that’s who you’re texting?”

“Mhm. I’m gonna meet her after work for some drinks. When do you see her next?”

“Friday.”

“Good, that’ll be nice.”

“So I shouldn’t show up while you’re having drinks?”

“No! She needs girl time. You mean well, but keep doing what you’re doing. Don’t suffocate her.”

“It was so hard to not run over to her earlier. We chatted a bit over the phone while I was gone. It was so nice.” He sighs and leans against her desk.

“You’re a romantic, Harry, and I love that about you. But…Y/N…well, she prefers to save that for the movies.”

Harry’s eyes widen and he gasps.

“I just figured out what I’m gonna take her to do Friday!” He hugs Stacey quick. “Thanks, Stace!” He rushes into his office and closes the door.

//

By the time Friday rolled around, you were exhausted. You really didn’t want to do anything crazy, and Harry assured you that you’d just be hanging out at his place which put you at ease. His car comes for you around seven. You come out in a pair of jeans, a nice shirt, and your hair down. He gets out and practically runs over to you. He takes you in his arms and kisses you.

“Missed you.” He says against your lips before kissing you again.

“I guess I missed you too.” You smile. “Thanks for being so cool at the site the other day.”

“No worries, I just hope those guys have cooled it.”

“They have.”

“Good.” He smiles and leads you into the car.

“One of these days I’m going to see what you look like behind the wheel.”

“That just means you’ll have to come out to my beach house.”

“That doesn’t sound too terrible. It’s getting warmer out by the day.”

“I hope you’re hungry, I’ve got something good prepared.”

“Did you cook?”

“God, no. I’d burn the house down if I made something other than a frozen pizza.” He chuckles. “No, I had someone come and make everything I wanted.” You make a face at him. “Oh, stop it. You’ll be thankful once you see it, trust me.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Once you’re at Harry’s place, he leads you inside. You take note on how he always says hi to all of the workers. You liked that he was so kind to them. When he gets you inside your jaw drops. There was a popcorn machine full of popcorn, hot dogs on a rotisserie, and all of the fixings on a table next to it, a nacho station, and homemade candies and chocolates.

“So, this is, like, the concessions area, and then down the hall is my home theater. Thought I’d bring the movies to us. Do you like it?”

“This is so…extravagant.” You walk up to where all of the sweets are.

“I had my chef make up those chocolate covered cookie dough bites, I thought you might like them.”

“I love those…thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He kisses you cheek. “Well, let’s make up what we want and then we can go find our seats.” He chuckles at his own joke and it makes you giggle.

You each make up a tray of snacks, and head down the hall. You gasp when you see a movie poster on the wall outside of the door.

“Pretty Woman?”

“I remember you mentioning it on our first date. Would you like to watch it?”

“Sure!”

You walk inside the room. He wasn’t kidding, it really was a home theater. Three rows of luxurious recliner seats, a large screen and a projector in the back.

“Where would you like to sit?”

“Middle row?”

“Works for me.” He smiles and follows you up. He sets his food down on the chair next to him and takes his phone out. “There’s an app linked to the projector so I can just it play from here and even dim the lights.”

“Pretty cool.”

“Very cool. Makes things so much easier.”

The lights dim, and previews start playing.

“Previews from when the film first came out, makes it more immersive.”

“Nice touch.” You saw, biting into your hot dog. “Oh, wow. This is delicious.”

“All freshly made with a natural casing. Still not the best for you, but at least it’s made with good ingredients.”

You sip on your soda and toss some popcorn into your mouth as well. Once you both finish up some of the cookie dough bites, you set your trays aside, recline the chairs, and get comfortable. Harry lifts the armrest between you and puts his arm around you.

“This alright?”

“Mhm.” You cozy up to him and sigh as you watch the film.

Even though you thought he was flashing his cash again, you knew he wasn’t doing it for bad reasons. He wanted to give you a nice evening, and this was how he knew to do it. You appreciated him putting all this effort in just for you. It made you rethink your first date completely. He was just trying to show you a good time, and you felt bad for being sort of rude. You’re happy you gave him another chance.

You sling your arm over his lower stomach, and put one of your ankles over his. His cologne smelled so good, you just wanted to have him closer to you. Harry was swooning. He hadn’t felt this happy in so long. His hand strokes your arm and shoulder mindlessly as the movie goes on. You both laugh and giggle at the funnier parts. When it gets to the part of the film where Vivian goes down to where Edward is playing the piano, and she sits on top of it and they start having sex.

You bite your bottom lip and look up at Harry whose eyes are glues to the screen, but you could feel his heart beating rapidly. He notices you looking up at him and he looks down at you with a slight smile. You reach one of your hands up to the back of his neck to pull him down to you. His lips brush over yours, and then you both sink into it. You tug him by the collar of his shirt so he’s hovering over you on the large seats. You wrap your legs around his waist to have him as close as possible. You swipe your tongue along his bottom lip and he opens up for you. You both groan into the open mouthed kiss, happy to feel the other’s tongue.

He kisses down your jaw and makes his way to your neck. Your hips buck up towards his when he starts to suck on your skin. You crane your neck to give him more access, and you practically push his head further into you. You whimper and bite your bottom lip as your hips move up towards his again. He sits up and pulls you on top of him so you can straddle him. Your lips find his again as you roll your hips down on his growing bulge. You tug at his hair as you suck on his bottom lip. His hands were press on your back to keep you close.

“Y/N?” He breathes.

“Mm?” You mumble as you kiss on his neck.

“Do you wanna take a break so we can finish the movie?”

“What, why?” You pout with your now swollen lips.

“Well, it’s just, that scene where Jason Alexander tries to…um…you know, is coming up and I’d feel weird making out while that happens.”

“Oh.” You chuckle and move off of him. “Makes sense.” He puts his arm back around you as you both catch your breaths.

Eventually the movie ends and the lights come back on. You have to blink a few times to get used to it. You and Harry grab your trays and go out the kitchen to clean everything up.

“Did you enjoy that?” He asks as he loads up the dishwasher.

“Yeah! I mean, I love that movie, and it was cool to watch it privately like that.”

“That room used to be another bedroom, I had it renovated shortly after I moved in. I’m glad I did. It got difficult to go out once the paparazzi started following my every move. Plus, it’s fun for parties. My family loves it when they come to visit.” He dries his hands on a towel and tosses it on a counter.

“Do they still follow you around?”

“Not as much anymore, thank god. At least, not to see who I’m dating. Sometimes after I do an interview for a magazine they follow me to see if I’m going out to get drunk or something.” He scoffs and shakes his head.

“You end up on a lot of thirty under thirty type magazines.”

“Yeah…I’ve done those, made it onto Forbes too, that was pretty cool. Then in a couple of years when I do turn thirty, it’ll be forty under forty. It never ends.” He shakes his head.

“How’d you end up dating some Italian model?”

He steps closer to you and tucks some hair behind your ear.

“Is that something you really wanna talk about?” He asks, just above a whisper as he starts to kiss on your neck again.

“No.” You gasp as his hands squeeze your hips. “Can we go to your bedroom?” You hear him sigh against you and he leans back against the counter.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Not ready for that yet?”

“You make zero sense!”

It’s true. Harry wasn’t making much sense. He was used to moving too fast with women, and it always went wrong. He really liked you, and he didn’t want it blowing up in his face.

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” He squeezes your hand. “I just think we should go out on a few more dates before we get to know each other like that…don’t you?”

“No, I’d like you to take me to your room and fuck me.” You cross your arms.

“Y/N.” He chuckles. “I promise, it’ll be worth the wait.”

You knew he was right. You felt his fully erect dick when you were grinding on him earlier.

“I just want us on the same page, make sure we both want the same things before diving into all that.”

“God, of course you’re, like, a good person.” You roll your eyes. “Fine, let’s go out a few more times.”

“Great.” He smiles. “I want you to know, too, I’m not seeing anyone else.”

“Neither am I.”

“And you won’t start, right?”

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs.

“Harry, I barely have the time to juggle one guy, I don’t think I’d have the energy to entertain more than one.” You laugh.

“Alright.” He blushes slightly. You step closer to him and wrap your arms around his neck.

“I’m surprised there isn’t a line of women knocking at your door.”

“Oh, there is, I just ignore it.” He smirks and you roll your eyes. “Kidding.”

“Mhm.”

You both smile and stand there kissing for a little while. Harry makes sure you get home, giving you a ride in his car. Just like last time, you spent most of the ride making out in the back seat. You really didn’t want to leave, but it was late and you needed to sleep. You say goodnight to each other, and he makes sure you’re inside before letting Charlie drive away.

//

“Mr. Styles, don’t forget you’ve got that gala this weekend.” Stacey says to him Monday morning.

“Shit, I’ve completely forgot about that.” He sighs. “Do I have to go?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I saw the guest list and…Carina’s going to be there.”

“Of course she is!” He groans and slumps into his chair. “Fuck, and I don’t have a date.”

“You could ask Y/N.”

“Do you think that’s something she’d wanna go to? She’d need a ball gown and-“

“She’s an electrician, but she’s still a woman. She has a lot of pretty clothes. I actually borrow a lot from her when I have events to go to.”

“She’s having me over for dinner tonight…I suppose I could ask her then.”

“Wait, she’s having you over?!”

“Yeah…” He raises an eyebrow of confusion at her.

“Wow.” She smirks. “She must really like you. She never invites guys over.” She winks at him and leaves his office.

After work, Harry has Charlie drive him over to your place. He rings your buzzer and you let him up. Your door was open a crack for him already, so he goes tight in, loosening his tie.

“Hi, Harry!” You smile.

Your hair was up in a messy bun, and you still had all your work clothes on, but your flannel was unbuttoned, revealing your white tank top and plenty of cleavage. You go over to him and give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Not as big as your place, but it has what I need.”

“It’s lovely. One bedroom?”

“Mhm, and two bathrooms.” You say proudly. “I hope you like food from the crockpot. I set up some chili this morning before I left.”

“Chili sounds amazing, I love spicy food.” He takes his suit jacket off and throws on your couch.

“Great.” You smile and grab some sour cream and cheese from your fridge. You grab a couple of bowls and some spoons and you both serve yourselves. You both sit down at the small table you have in your kitchen.

“This is delicious, thank you.” He smiles.

“Oh, I’m so glad you like it.”

“I’m happy we could get together tonight.”

“Me too.” You smile.

You had fully warmed up to Harry at this point. You’d been seeing each other for a few weeks, and you had let many walls down. You liked him, you really liked him. You two also hadn’t done more than make out, and it was absolutely killing you.

“Do you have plans Saturday evening?”

“I don’t believe so, why? Another movie night?” You ask sort of excitedly and he chuckles.

“No, I wish. I have this charity gala to go to that I actually forgot all about until Stacey reminded me this morning. I’d love for you to join me.”

“Oh…a little fancier than I thought, but, sure.” You shrug. “I could do that. I’ll have to call my hairdresser to see if she can squeeze me in, I’m assuming I’ll probably want my hair done?”

“Only if you feel comfortable…”

“Will I need a gown?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, I have a couple to choose from in my closet. Do you know what suit you’re wearing?”

“Uh, yeah, here.” He takes his phone out to show you. It was pink with a design on the front. It was beautiful.

“Hm, I think I have a green dress that would look good with this. Pink and green look so nice together.” You use your napkin to wipe your mouth and stand up. “Come on.” You nod towards the hallway.

“Come on what?”

“I wanna show you the gown I have.”

“Oh, alright.”

He follows you into your room, but he stands in the doorway as you go into your closet. It was much smaller than his, but he liked the way you decorated. You utilized a lot of space. You can always tell when a tradesperson lives somewhere because everything always looked really nice. Here were built in shelves and storage units.

“You make those?”

“Mhm, and I made this closet twice as big.” You find the gown you’re thinking of and hold it up in front of your body to show him. “What do you think? Will it do the trick?”

“It’s beautiful, Y/N. Why do you have it?”

“When I was younger I used to participate in pageants. The scholarships were super helpful for college. Anyways, past winners get invited back pretty often and you’re supposed to dress really nice when you go, so I have a couple of formal gowns for when I get those calls.”

“I never would have taken you for a pageant girl.”

“I’m not really…but I needed the money, and I figured out how to play the game. I came in first twice in two different competitions. However, the girls I participated with weren’t very nice, so I wasn’t exactly sad when I got too old for it.” You hang the dress back up. “Don’t worry, I’ll be able to look the part with all your fancy friends.” You smirk and walk out of your room. You sit on your couch and he sits next to you.

“A lot of them aren’t really friends. Acquaintances really. Um, Stacey showed me the guest list today and my ex is apparently going to be there.”

“The model?”

“Yeah.”

“Wonderful.” You scoff. “So are we finally going to have the conversation?”

“What do you mean?”

“She was your last relationship right? Tell me what happened.”

“Not much to tell. We met at a dinner party for a mutual friend. We met in London, actually, but we both had places here in the city, so we kept seeing each other. I didn’t realize how well known she was, so that’s when the paparazzi started. We were together almost a year before it just got to be too much. She wanted me to basically give it all up for her so I could travel with her, but I thought it was selfish of her to ask me to do that, so we broke up.”

“Did you love her?”

“I did.” He says bluntly. “But it wasn’t the type of love I wanted. I don’t have any feelings for her whatsoever, I want you to know that.” He places his hand on your knee. “I just know she’s going to come over to me and look you up and down, and she’s going to be really snotty. She’s…well, she’s a bitch, to put it simply.”

“And you dated her for a year because?”

“Vanity. On paper, we were the perfect match, but I realized it felt like I wasn’t living my own life anymore. I’m much happier now.” He gives your knee a squeeze.

“Alright, well, I’m sure we’ll have a good time. Is it a sit down dinner?”

“It is.”

“Open bar?”

“Yup.”

“Dancing?”

“A little.”

“Sounds like a good time to me.” You smile.

“You’re amazing, thank you.” He leans to kiss you and that was that.

//

The day of the gala, your hairdresser was able to squeeze you in for an updo. You showed her the dress you’d be wearing, so she gave you an elegant bun. You had your nails done as well. You were glad you did because you had a nasty bruise on your thumb. That’ll be the last time you use a regular hammer and not just a nail gun.

When you get home you take out an old pearl necklace that was your great-grandmother’s that would go perfectly with the green dress. It was strapless and fit to your form, with a nice slit starting at one of your thighs. You found a pair of heels that went perfectly with it, and a white shall. You apply your makeup, and take a step back to take yourself in. You looked perfect. You take a selfie to send to Stacey.

Stacey: omfg!!! You’re gonna give Carina a run for her money, have fun!

You smile at the text and find your clutch that goes with the dress. Harry picks you up around seven. You gasp when you see a limo, and not just the regular car he usually picks you up in.

“All this for the two of us?” You ask as he gets out of the car. His suit looked so good. His jaw drops when he sees you.

“You look stunning, Y/N.” He gives you a gentle kiss on the cheek, and help you into the limo. “The limo’s just to keep up appearances. We’re essentially walking down a red carpet into the building. Know how to pose?”

“Oh, I can give face when I need to.” You smirk. “It was fun getting all dressed up since I don’t get to often.”

“I like your flannels too, I hope you know how sexy you look in your work clothes.”

Your cheeks heat up. Harry didn’t really talk like that to you often.

“I’ll have to wear my tool belt for you sometime…just my tool belt.” You whisper in his ear and then face forward. You send a shiver up his spine. He couldn’t wait for that.

When you pull up to the event, Harry gets out first. Cameras start flashing, and he extends his hand out to you. You stand up and nearly feel blinded, but you get through it. You walk with him, his hand on the small of your back. You’d stop occasionally to be photographed. There were reports asking Harry what your name was and other questions, but he didn’t answer a single one. Once you were inside you took a deep breath.

“You did amazing, thank you.”

“No problem. How come they wanted to know who I was?”

“So they can print some story about us. I don’t wanna give up your privacy, so my lips are staying sealed for now.”

You’re brought into a large ball room. There were silent auction items all around the perimeter that Harry would need to put some money down for.

“I hate these things. I’d be happy to just donate without having to get anything in return, you know?”

You walk around with him to look at the items.

“How come you’re not writing anything down?”

“I’m waiting for other people so I can put a larger amount down. They deduct the value of the item from the actual donation, so I wanna make sure enough money gets put down.”

“That’s…really philanthropic of you, Harry.”

“All the proceeds tonight go to inner city schools to get them new computers and other technology they’re in desperate need of.”

You weren’t sure if you’d ever meet Harry’s mother, but you hoped you would just so you could thank her for raising such a kind man. You both mingle with a few people, and eventually Harry puts his bids down for a few different items.

“If I win I’ll just donate this shit. I don’t need anything else.” He shrugs.

Waiters come around with h'orderves and drinks. You snatch a flute of champagne and a shrimp puff.

“Good, babe?” He smiles at you as you lick your lips.

“Very.” You giggle.

His smile fades when he sees Carina from across the room. She had a lovely blue gown on, and some man’s arm was snaked around her waist. She sees Harry and she sends him a small wave. He clutches your hip a little tighter. You look up at him.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, uh, wanna find our table?”

“Sure.”

You find your table and you both take your seat. You chat with the woman sitting next to you, and other people begin finding their seats. As the event gets started, waiters come around with food. Someone on a stage comes out and announces who has won what items. People clap. Harry won a couple of the items he bid on. He stands as people clap, and you clap as well. You kiss him on the cheek as he sits back down. Once dinner is through, some people start going out to the dance floor, and others stand around to mingle.

“Well if it isn’t the CEO himself.” Harry turns around the second he hears the accent. “Hi, Harry.”

“Hi, Carina.”

She takes him in for a gentle hug, and kisses him on both cheeks. You want to gag, but you know it’s just a cultural thing.

“And who might this be?” She looks you up and down.

“I’m Y/N.” You extend your hand and she shakes it. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same to you.” She smiles and looks at Harry. “I’m surprised to see you here with someone.”

“Could say the same to you.” He nods over to the man she came with. He was over talking with some other people.

“Oh, that’s Richard. He’s lovely. We met a few months back. He works remotely so he’s able to travel with me. It’s perfect.”

“Good for you.”

“What do you do?” She asks you.

“I’m a union electrician.” You say with a bright smile. “I got a degree in Mathematics and then I joined the trades world.”

“Oh my…I never would have guessed.” She smiles nervously. “Harry, may I borrow you for just a moment? Andrew is here too, and he misses you so much.”

“Um…sure.” He looks at you.

“Go ahead, I need to use the ladies room as it is.”

He watches you walk away and turns back to Carina.

“Andrew’s not here.” Harry says to her.

“I know, I just said that so we could chat. She’s not for you, and you know it.”

“What makes you think you have the right to say that to me?”

“Harry, you can’t be with some blue collar worker.”

“And why not?” He scoffs. “I’ll have you know she’s lovely and elegant, but she’s also not afraid to go to McDonald’s and stuff her face. In fact, she’s not afraid of food at all.”

“I’m on a very strict diet and you know it.” She huffs.

“Why don’t you worry about yourself and Richard?”

Harry turns on his heel and walks towards the restrooms. You were just coming out when you see him waiting.

“Are you alright?” You ask him.

“Yeah, feel like having a dance?”

“Definitely.”

You take his hand as he leads you back into the ballroom and onto the dance floor. The band was only playing slower songs, but that was just fine. Harry was really light on his feet. It made you smile as he led you around.

“You about ready to get out of here?” He whispers in your ear.

“Mhm.”

He smiles at you and leads you out. He says goodbye to a few people, and gets you outside. There were still reporters, but he gets you into the limo quickly.

“So…your ex…was she civil with you?”

“Yeah, nothing to worry about.” He throws his arm around you and kisses your hairline. “Okay to come back to mine?”

“Definitely.”

He gets you up into his place and gets you a glass of water.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” You tell him.

“Me too, you definitely made it more fun. Those things can be so dreadful.”

“I just look at it as a free dinner.” You laugh.

“Oh, is that all it takes with you?” He smirks.

“Pretty much. I’ll go to a party like that with you anytime.”

“Good to know.” He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close to him. Yours go around his neck and you start kissing. You giggle when you let go of him and see your red lipstick all over his mouth.

“Sorry.” You try to rub it off with your thumb.

“No worries.” He chuckles. “Would you like to come upstairs?”

“I would.” You take your heels off, and follow him up.

He leads you into his large bedroom. You gaze at the beautiful furniture.

“I’ve got a walk in closet too.” He says. “You’d probably appreciate the craftsmanship.”

He opens the door for you and you step inside.

“It’s beautiful. I love built ins. Whoever did this did a great job.”

“I only hire the best, but you knew that.” You grip at his suit jacket and push him up against the doorframe of the closet. You slot your lips over his and he welcomes it.

“I want you, Harry.” You say against his lips.

“I want you too.” He kisses on your neck and bites down on your shoulder.

He walks you over to his bed until your legs his the frame. He keeps you steads as his hands find the zipper on the back of dress. You push his suit jacket off his shoulders and let it fall to the ground. He unzips your dress, but holds it up.

“Are you okay with all this?” He asks.

“God, yes.”

Your dress falls to the ground and pools at your feet. Your fingers work to unbutton his shirt. His eyes widen as he looks at the underwear set you’re wearing. You were wearing a strapless black bra with a black lace thong to match. Of course you still needed to wear a bra, your breasts were too large to without. You get his shirt off and you take a step back to admire his tattoos.

“I didn’t know you had so many.” Your hands trace off the ones on his collar bones, his torso, and his hips. “Even your arms.”

‘Got a few on my legs too.” He loves the way your hands felt on his body.

“I thought you just had the cross and the anchor. These are so cool.”

“Thanks.”

Your hands move to his belt buckle and get it undone, his pants drop to the floor moments later. You lick your lips when you see his tight boxers.

“Fuck, Harry, I want you so badly.”

You push him down on the bed and straddle him. His hands go to your hips, rubbing circles into your skin with his thumbs. He reaches up to unhook your bra, and tosses it to the floor. You switch positions so you’re lying on your back. He caresses your breasts and kisses on each of them. He puts his face between them and just enjoys the way your skin feels on him. You start giggling and he looks up at you.

“Breast man, huh?”

“Sorry, was that weird? You just have such a beautiful body.”

“Not weird at all, they’re yours to play with.” You grin.

“Oh, I like the sound of that a lot.”

He takes one of your nipples into his mouth and sucks harshly. You gasp as your hips buck up towards him. He does the same thing to the other before kissing down your body. His hands tug your thong below your hips.

“Can I take this off?”

“Please.”

You lift your hips to help him. He looks down at you and then up to your eyes.

“Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Make you feel good.”

“Sure, but I wanna hear you say what exactly is going to make me feel good.”

His eyes darken as he looks at you.

“Y/N, I’m going to lick into your cunt until you’re screaming that you can’t take it anymore.”

Your mouth falls open as he parts your legs. He kisses from your knee to your inner thigh. Sucking on where he pleases. He uses his forearm to hold your hips down when he finally gets his tongue on you. He licks a flat stripe from your center up to your clit. You clutch at the soft blankets on his bed as you watch him. He makes eye contact with you when he starts to suck on your clit.

“Oh my god.” You moan as your head falls back. You feel him smirk against you. You start to tug at his curls when he swirls his tongue around you and then flicks it quickly on the nub. “Christ.” You say through gritted teeth.

His tongue moves back to your center where he licks into you. He groans at the taste of you. His middle and index finger move to rub your clit in circles while he uses his tongue to essentially fuck you. Your body was starting to feel hot all over, and you could feel a familiar knot tightening in your lower stomach. He assumes you’re starting to get close because you were starting to tighten around his tongue. He licks back up to your clit, and plunges his fingers inside you.

“Oh, fuck!” You cry out as his fingers work your insides. Your eyes roll into the back of your head when you feel him knuckle deep. “Harry, it’s so good, don’t stop!”

He groans his response as he sucks on your clit again. He curls his fingers up against your front wall where he knew you needed it. He feels you pulsating around him. He could hear you panting and it was music to his ears.

“Shit, oh, fuck, oh my god!” You scream as your orgasm washes over you. He continues to pump his fingers slowly to help you ride it out.

He sits up on his knees and wipes the slick away from his chin with the back of his hand. He licks his lips and smirks at you. You catch your breath and look up at him. You sit up slightly and grab at the band of his boxers.

“Do you want me to-“

“Next time, I really just want to fuck you.”

You bite your lip and nod at him. He takes his boxers off and your eyes grow wide when you see his full length. You spread your legs back apart for him, and he lines himself up.

“Shit, uh…condom.” He backs away from you and rummages through his night table for one.

“I’m on the pill…”

“Found one!” He looks at you. “What did you say?”

“I’m on the pill…if you didn’t feel like using one.” Your cheeks were starting to grow red. “I’m clean. Wouldn’t have let you go down on me if I wasn’t.”

“I’m clean too. So…you don’t want me to use one?”

“Nah, I kind of want you to come inside me if I’m being honest.”

“Jesus.” He grunts and tosses the condom aside. He gets back between your legs and rubs his tip along your slick folds and clit. “You’re positive?”

“Yes.”

He leans down to kiss you as he slowly pushes inside. He swallows you gasp and moan once he bottoms out. You tighten around him involuntarily. He gives you a moment to relax and adjust to him. You hadn’t been stretched out like this since god knows when.

“Go on.” You whisper.

He smiles into your neck as he starts to rock in and out of you. Your arch up into him. Your hands search for a nearby pillow.

“Hold on.” You tell him and lift your hips up, sliding a pillow under you. “Okay.”

“You’re killing me.” He breathes.

He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth as his thrusts pick up the pace. You wrap your legs around him and move along with him. Your hands slide down to his ass so your nails can sink into the fleshy area. He bites down on your collar bone as you keep moving along with him. He was used to women just starfishing under him, this was so nice. He felt really connected to you.

“Oh, shit.” You press your forehead into his chest. “Harry.” You moan.

“Gonna come again?”

“Mhm.”

He snakes a hand between the two of you so he can rub your clit, and that pushes you over the edge. Your nails rake up from his ass to his back as you come, making him moan out at the overwhelming feeling of being marked up by you.

“Can I bend you over the bed?”

You moan out your response. He pulls out of you and gets you on your feet, bending you over. He grips your hips and slips back inside you. All you can hear is his skin slapping against yours. You prop yourself up on your elbows and arch your back. He was hitting so fucking deep, and his tip was brushing against your g-spot. One of his hands goes back to your clit while the other grips the back of your neck while he pounds into you.

“Taking it so well, Y/N.” He grunts.

“Feels so good, fuck!”

He watches as your back arches more and sweat slides down your spine.

“I’m, I’m close.” He says.

“Yeah? You wanna come?”

“Yes, fuck.” He moans out and fills you up while you come again with him.

He had you screaming just like he said he would. He hold you close to him for a moment, his chest flush with your back. He kisses your back before pulling out. You clamp your legs together before anything has a chance to make a mess.

“Let me get you a rag.”

“S’okay, I’ll just use the bathroom.” He helps you stand up and you turn to face him. You grab him by the back of his neck to kiss him. “That was really nice.” You giggle.

You waddle to his bathroom while he grabs a fresh pair of boxers. You clean yourself up and come back out.

“Can I give you something to wear?”

“Please.” You smile. You couldn’t stop smiling, really.

He hands you one of his bed shirts. It had his initials embroidered on the chest pocket. He watches as you button it up.

“Comfortable?”

“Very.” You crawl onto the bed with him. You throw a leg over his and rest your head on his chest. He looks down at you and cups your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss.

“You make me really happy, Y/N.”

“You make me happy too, Harry. I may even let you stay over at my place sometime.” You chuckle.

“I’d like that.” He kisses your forehead. “But only if I’m staying over there as your boyfriend.” He grins.

“I think I’d feel comfortable with that.” You kiss his soft, swollen lips.

“Really? You’re into all this, you’re not just saying that because we had some hot sex?”

“Harry.” You giggle. “The sex was really hot, and I may have had my reservations about you, but we’ve gotten to know each other well, I’d like to be your girlfriend. Let’s make it official.”

“I have to warn you, I’m gonna want to spoil you rotten. You may get annoyed with me.”

“You can’t buy my affection, just remember that.”

“I know, I just can’t help wanting to just give you everything you want.”

“You’re what I want. I don’t care about all this.” You gesture to his extravagant bedroom.

“I know you don’t, I think that’s why I like you so much. You could care less!” He laughs. “It’s amazing. You’re totally not shallow. It’s refreshing.” He settles down further into the bed and you kiss him a few times on the cheek.

“I get busy a lot. When there’s over time I take it. I may have to break dates once in a while.”

“Same here.”

“If you’re traveling, I won’t be able to just drop everything to go with you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. I like that you work hard and that you actually want to work. You have an honest job, and I really admire that.”

“Thanks.” You kiss on his chest. He liked that you were a kisser. Harry loved being loved on. “However, if you want to plan a trip to that beach house of yours…I certainly could put in for some vacation time.”

“You’d love it out there. It’s nice and private, we’d have our own beach. I have a boat too with a kitchen and bedroom below deck. It’s great.”

“This will definitely take some getting used to.” You laugh. “I’ll have to keep bringing you to dive bars so to knock you down a peg.” You joke.

“Whatever you need to do.” He smirks.

“I’m also going to teach you how to cook. We don’t need to have a catered meal every time we hang out here.”

“That seems fair. Could we start with that chili you made? It was so fucking good.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

You sigh happily and snuggle into his chest as he holds you. You both slept really well that night. You weren’t sure what exactly being a girlfriend to a CEO would entail, but as long as the both of you stayed on the same page about your values, you saw this relationship lasting for a very long time.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles slow burn #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #ceo!Harry #harry styles au #pls tag if you reblog #feedback is always appreciated!!

[royallyprincesslilly]

Kismet {10}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Dialogue Heavy, Small Time Jump, Mild Angst

Words: 5.8k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

Note: The chapter includes some French. I’ve added the translations best I could. Some from memory, but some from Google translate. If the translations are off, I apologize.

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘  

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 

It didn’t take long for you to realize you’d either offended him or hurt his feelings. It was clear from how stiff he was when he walked away from you. Everything about him was different. You’d wanted to call after him or chase him down the street to explain, but something kept your feet planted right where they were. What made you feel worse was that he didn’t switch up. He still called you to say good morning and wish you a safe flight again the next morning. When you’d landed back in LA, he’d picked up your call on the second ring. He didn’t speak like a man with a grudge or chip on his shoulder. He was the same, Henry.

 Over the next few days, he kept the same energy and consistency. It was something you didn’t expect, but it was something refreshing. You thought about him more and more, and every conversation you had, you wanted to apologize for your stark reaction, but every time you opened your mouth to, the right words never seemed to form. It also didn’t take you long to notice that he wasn’t asking again. You doubted he ever would.

 As the days ticked off and his departure date grew nearer and nearer, you could sense the disappointment in him, and that disappointment came across more and more like hurt. With each passing day, you felt more of an urgency in you that you couldn’t understand. You felt as if your time was dwindling, and you only had so much time to do what was right even though you didn’t know what that was. The day he called to let you know he was about to board his flight, you sat in your living room you wished him safe travels, then hung up, which left you just staring out for hours, wondering how big of a mistake you’d made.

 “What’s up with you?”

 Alicia’s voice beside you brought you out of your daze. You groaned, then dropped your head back onto the couch.

 “Henry asked me to go on vacation with him,” you blurted out, unable to hold it in anymore.

 It had been six days since your time together in London, and you hadn’t been able to get it off your mind or tell anyone. When Alicia didn’t respond right away, you looked to her to find a confused expression on her face.

 “Confused.”

 You groaned again then explained everything that happened in London to her. The only things you left out were the butterflies in your belly the entire night, the feeling of breathlessness every time he came close, the strong urge to touch him any and everywhere, and your impulses that went against everything you’d stood for the last few years.  So all in all, you told her everything.

 The huge smile on Alicia’s face was expected. You rolled your eyes. “Stop smiling.”

 “Okay.”

 Her smile remained pasted to her lips, and it was growing with every second. Annoyance flared up in you.

 “Stop!”

 “I can’t!”

 She began giggling.

 “You like him, like really, really like him,” Alicia accused, right on the money.

 “I do,” your let slip without thought. “I don’t know why or how. I’ve known him maybe two months tops, and we’ve only been out four or five times. I know nothing about him, nothing at all. I don’t know what I like. I don’t know if I like him or his looks and body,” you blurted as each revelation came to mind.

 “Oh, you definitely like his looks and body, but I think this is something different, something you’ve never experienced before,” Alicia revealed.

 You rolled your eyes again, then stared at the ceiling. She made perfect sense, you thought.

 “You’ve heard about love at first sight.”

 You sprang up looking at her like she was bat shit crazy.

 “Bite your heathenous tongue.”

 Alicia busted out laughing then. You remained silent. This was no laughing matter. Especially when the “L” word was waved around willy nilly.

 “Oh god, that was not funny,” you said.

 “Stop being so dramatic. Look, I know neither of us has ever experienced it; hell, I said it was a fucking bullshit, but--.”

 “Don’t Leece,” you cautioned, not ready to remotely go anywhere near that landmine.

 “Okay, look,” she began scooting closer to you. “This is what I know. You have these ridiculous rules.”

 You glared at her, but she didn’t back down. Before she opened her mouth to speak again, you stood and walked off toward the kitchen, knowing she’d follow. Once in the kitchen, you dug in the fridge for a can of ginger ale, hoping it would settle your stomach, and like clockwork, Alicia reached in also to retrieve one for herself. As she opened the can and took a seat at the island, she continued.

 “So your ridiculous rules. I know they’ve kept assholes away this long and has made it possible for you to keep your head above water. I get it, and I’m all for self-perseverance. You know I am. But--,” she smacked her lips as if she was getting ready to tell you off.

 “Your rules—honey--,” she sighed. “They’re bullshit, and they are keeping you from developing something substantial, something real, something—true. Now I get that was the point in them in the first place. However, Mr. Blue eyes and British accent,” she finished reading you like an open book.

 You gulped the soda, ignoring the burn of the acid on your tongue. It was a trick for the brain. Give it something else to focus on, so you got a moment of quiet. It always worked, but it was only temporary. When you lowered the can, you hissed.

 “Fuck!”

 “I like him. Amaya likes him. I don’t think he has ulterior motives, and I’m an excellent judge of character. I never liked Evan for a reason.”

 You scoffed and closed your eyes, trying to get your brain to quiet down.

 “So what do I do?”

 “You know what to do. Lucky for you, it’s what you really wanna do anyway.”

 “He’s on vacation,” you said.

 “Yep, he’s on vacation,” Alicia reiterated.

 “I don’t know where.”

 “It’s a good and lucky thing you’re a member of a royal family no matter how much you like to denounce it. You can find him.”

 A lightbulb went off in your head and giving you your big ah-ha moment. You ran out of the kitchen to the living room where you’d left your phone. You sat then debated what you were about to do. You’d never gone to lengths like this for anyone. It took almost two minutes for you to make the call, and as you did, you wondered if this was a little wrong. It took two minutes to make the call and another two minutes before you had the information you needed. Once you ended the call, Leece was sitting on the arm of the couch with an expectant look on her face.

 “So, where is he?”

 “Bandol, France,” you answered.

 “Ooh, so luxurious. Go get him.”

 You stood then hugged her. You didn’t know how she wasn’t tired of your ass after all the years of knowing you and being the one to talk you down off your ledges or up on your horse.

 “Do me a favor, best friend.”

 “What?”

 “Turn him black, so he never goes back!”

 You snorted so hard that it hurt. Your laugh was so powerful that your stomach hurt after just seconds.

 “Shut up, oh my god.”

 For the next hour or so, Alicia helped you pack while you made the call to your manager to let him know you were planning to take some time off. When you said the words, he even laughed, finding it hard to believe you. It took some convincing to let him know you were serious, but once he got it, he was quick to help, saying you needed a vacation. Turns out he’d been trying to find the right time to bring it up. You had a quick meeting where he assured you he’d tie off all your loose ends for the next two weeks to start. By the end of the call, you were halfway to the airport to get to your waiting private plane.

 Nervousness was the least of what you felt. Anxiousness, fear, doubt, and nauseousness were right up there. After an hour in the air, it had only grown. You kept worrying if you were doing the right thing or if he’d think you were absolutely insane to fly across the world without a technical invitation. The more you thought about it, the more you doubted what you were doing.

By the time you landed in France, your nerves had pretty much mellowed out, for the most part. The beautiful scenery alone should have worked to calm you and give you a sense that you were on vacation, but it didn’t. Using the email you’d gotten from the family’s security services, you gave the taxi driver the address to where Henry was. As you drove through the town, you marveled at the views and tried to enjoy the warm breeze. When the car stopped in front of an impressive villa, your jaw dropped. He sure didn’t go low key, you thought.

 “Mademoiselle Mlle serait -vous que je apporter vos sacs à l'intérieur? {Miss, would you like me to bring your bags inside?}

 You contemplated Pierre, the driver’s question for a few seconds.

“Eh bien, ce n'est pas chez moi, si je le faisais, je serais trespassing. {Well this is not my home and if I did that it would be trespassing.}

 That realization had you making a face that said you knew it was questionable.

 “Comme un homme que je ne serais pas fâché de trouver un ange comme toi-même dans ma maison. {As a man I would not be angry to find an angel such as you in my home}, he said with a wide grin.

 Such a sweet talker, you thought as you laughed. I smile. 

 “Voilà monsieur douce. Je vais attendre ici. {That is sweet sir, but I will wait here}

 “Ici, sur les étapes ? Seul? {Here, on the steps. Alone?}

 He sounded like it was something he’d never heard of. You got out of the car then looked around for the best spot to sit and wait.

 Oui, je vais bien. Merci de votre aide. {Yes, I will be fine, thank you for your help.}

 Pierre came around the car then opened the trunk to take your bags out. One by one, he brought them to the steps of the villa. Once he finished, you dug into your purse and handed him four hundred dollar bills, and pressed them into his palm. He looked shocked but appreciative. After thanking him, he drove off, leaving you there with the seaside cliff view as your company.

 You texted Alicia and Amaya, letting them know you’d gotten there but knew they probably wouldn’t see it right away, thanks to the time difference. You sat for a few minutes only to get up and pace back and forth for another few minutes. Then you switched and did it over and over. Your brain made it feel like it was an eternity that passed, but you knew that couldn’t have been true. You heard a motorcycle approaching and watched as a silverish white one pulled up. You couldn’t tell if it were him, but you had a feeling it was. Once he’d turned the engine off, his movements slowed, and you knew he’d seen you.

 He threw his large leg over the bike then peeled off his helmet, revealing curly hair and a scruffy beard. You gulped. That’s how damn good he looked.

 “Damn.”

 Henry approached you with a confused but cautious look on his face. It did nothing to assure you that you hadn’t made a colossal mistake. Unable to hold his gaze, you looked over what he wore, preppy sky blue shorts and a white polo shirt that was unbuttoned, showing off sprigs of chest hair. You’d imagined he had chest hair, and this was your answer.

 “Aliya?”

 “H—hi,” you stuttered.

 Henry looked around like he was wondering how the hell you got there.

 “What’re you doing here?”

 “In France?”

 “On my doorsteps,” Henry clarified.

 “Oh, um—right. I can see how this would—look. Strange, alarming even. I promise there is an explanation.”

 Nervousness overtook you, making you giggle. Henry stood there patiently waiting for said explanation, but the look of bewilderment didn’t go away.

 “How did you know where I was, first of all?”

 Damn it, you thought, trying to find your voice. “Eh-em, well—I called in a favor and—had your cellphone tracked.

 His eyes widened, and you braced yourself for the freak-out you suspected was coming.

 “What!?”

 With your face scrunched, you decided to face it head-on and nodded. “Yeah. Saying that out loud now, I can understand how it sounds and even how it looks.”

 “So, you know people who will just track a phone?”

 Uh-oh, you thought, trying to find an answer that wouldn’t give anything away.

 “I do,” you slowly answered.

 Henry stared at you, and you knew he was weighing his options on whether to call the cops to get your ass out of there or listen to more. It was hard to read him, harder than it had been the last few times you'd been together.

 “You’re freaking out. Look, I’m not crazy; I promise I’m not. I just—I had to find you.”

 “Why? You made yourself perfectly clear a week ago,” Henry threw in your face.

 “I did,” you began, groaning from exhaustion. You sat down on one of the steps and sighed.

 “God, I have lived with a set of rules for the last three years. These rules have helped me tremendously. They’ve helped me keep people at arm’s length and have helped me protect myself from everyone, whether they meant ill or good. I’ve lived with these rules and have never broken any of them—not one. Then here you come.”

 You dropped your head into your hands and released a heavy breath before you continued.

 “Here you come, and within less than a month, I’d broken three, and that alarmed the shit out of me. I wasn’t prepared and didn’t know how to deal with it. Then you go asking me to go away on vacation with you and—that would have broken another rule, and that would have led to me breaking all of them on this vacation,” you blurted out.

 Henry stood there, staring at you with yet another unreadable expression plastered across his face. Your head said shut up, but your lips kept moving.

 “I couldn’t accept, then this last week I realized that I didn’t want to be anywhere but here—on this vacation—with you, and if it meant breaking another rule, then it would be broken. So here I am.”

 Henry sighed, “What are these rules?”

 Uh-oh, you thought again. You were sure after you told him he’d run for the hills. Even Amaya and Alicia made fun of your neurotic ass because of these obsessive rules. You chewed your bottom lip, reluctant to voice them. Henry didn’t look to be in any hurry, though; he just waited.

 Realizing he still hadn’t kicked your ass to the proverbial curb, you said a silent prayer, took a breath, and sang like a canary.

 “Um—in no particular order—one, no outings that have been labeled as a date, only hanging out is acceptable. Two, no back to back outings and or hanging out. Three, no hand-holding. Four, no one sees my house or how to get to my house. Five, No one comes to my house at all, not even to hang out and definitely not sleep. Six, I don’t hang out or sleep at anyone’s home. Seven, no kissing on the first date. Eight, no kissing on the second date. Nine, no kissing on the third date. Ten, no kissing with my eyes closed, period. Eleven, no PDA. Twelve, no gifts of any kind. Thirteen, no emotional intimacy. Fourteen, no vacations together. Fifteen, no sex with anyone you can see yourself with longer than three months. Sixteen, no meeting families or friends on either side. Seventeen, Never relinquish control.”

 Hearing them out loud, you would have run in the other direction without looking back. He didn’t move, though, hell he didn’t even speak. He didn’t have to; his face was doing all the talking you needed. With bugged eyes, slightly parted lips, and his arms crossed over his chest, he looked the perfect picture of an outright terrified man.

 “Those are a lot of rules.”

 You nodded. “Yes, they are.”

 He took several moments before speaking again. “How do you keep them all in mind?”

 “Practice.”

 “Wow, I don’t—I don’t know what to--.”

 His words drifted off, and you watched him rub the back of his neck.

 “So you’re willingly going to break number six and thirteen.”

 He already had them memorized; you thought as you nodded. “Pretty much.”

 Henry studied you for several more moments and then breathed out before he walked up the front doorsteps. You watched him unlock it before he looked back at you.

 “Please come in.”

 You didn’t know if he was serious or not, so you didn’t move. He must have sensed it because he beckoned you over with an added smile. Sighing, you slowly walked up the steps toward him and the door.

 “I’ll get your bags,” he said before he walked back down the steps to gather your bags two by two.

On his second trip, you walked inside with him and looked around. It looked like a mix of Mediterranean, coastal, and traditional décor. The ceiling's wooden beams complemented the neutral colors of the furniture and the wood strewn around the foyer.

 “Make yourself at home,” Henry said before he walked out again for the remainder of your bags.

 You took a few more steps and looked at the art on the wall. They all were a mix of expressionist and abstract, and all made you feel relaxed. You could see him living here, and you wondered if he were renting this or if he owned it. A photograph on the sideboard resting against the wall caught your eye. It was of him and four other men all wearing athletic clothing, smiling widely and holding up medals. They all resembled each other, making you deduce they could have been his brothers. You walked further inside the home toward what looked like a living room and touched the white brick accent wall. It was a pleasing aesthetic that was set.

“Wow. This is--.”

 You didn’t know the right word. Henry approached and stood beside you as you continued looking around.

 “This is an architectural dream, and very different than I thought.”

 “You’ve thought about my home?”

 You paused with your hand on the back of one of the creamish, grey tufted couch and turned to look at him.

 “Um, the environment to which you lay your head,” you cautiously corrected. “They say someone’s home tells you everything you need to know about them.”

 “Is that so?”

 You nodded and continued walking around the living room. The view from the arched window was beautiful.

 “Let me give you a tour,” Henry offered, leading the way out of the living room.

 He walked around, showing you each room, and they all resembled one another. You could imagine him in each room. Sitting in the armchair by the big window sipping coffee or kicking his feet up while watching tv at night before going to bed. When he showed you the kitchen, you pictured him cooking shirtless, making some French dish. It all screamed him.

 “This is all yours?”

 “I bought it as a holiday home for my family. I wanted us to have a place where we could go on holiday either together or separately. That is why it’s so big. There are a lot of us.”

 “That’s nice,” you answered.

 You nodded and followed him outside the large French-style glass doors. As soon as you stepped out, you could help but gasp at the beauty.

 “Oh my god. Holy shit, this—this is—incredible. Wow.”

You gaped at the comfortable sitting area that was primed for dining outdoors. You went up the few steps and turned to the right, and marveled at the inground pool and the greenery of France.

“It is.”

 Smiling, you turned to him then scoffed. “Wow.”

 Henry smiled softly, then dipped his head. When he did, the smile fell.

 “I’ll show you where you’ll sleep,” he said before turning to walk back inside. You took one more look around and followed him.

 It wasn’t a quick walk by no means. You noted it was probably the other side of the house. When he stopped and opened a large, heavy wooden door, you walked in first. The room wasn’t obnoxiously large. It was comfortable and minimally decorated. You walked to the window and smiled. It was the perfect view of the cliffside.

 “Is it to your liking?”

 You spun while nodding your head. “Of course, thank you.”

 “No problem,” Henry replied. Your eyes locked for a few seconds, but he was the one to look away.

 “I’ll bring your bags.”

 He walked out, leaving you to admire the view some more and formulate a better plan. You’d only thought as far as finding him. You didn’t plan to tell him everything about your rules, and now you didn’t know how to proceed. You felt awkward.

 “God Aliya, stalker much?”

 Sighing, you began pacing the floor, hoping something would come to you while you tried not to imagine him thinking of you like some crazy chick. Your phone went off, and you were thankful for the distraction. You plopped into the chair beside the window and went through your emails and messages, answering the urgent work ones, quickly getting lost in them.

 “Here you go,” Henry began as he placed your bags on the far left side of the bedroom. You heard him come in, but being in the middle of an email, you didn’t look up, just mumbled a thank you.

 “I thought a vacation was supposed to mean no work.”

 Looking up at him, you released a breath. “I’m sorry, I—I got distracted, and I got sucked in.”

 Smiling, you put your phone down, hoping he would see it as a peace offering. He was leaned against the wall with one leg crossed over the other.

 “I understand. It happens to me too. I personally set everyone I work with, or for on a separate ring and alert sound, so I know not to answer or check it.”

 “Everyone? That has to be at least fifty people,” you said.

 “Try sixty-five, seventy.”

 “Wow. How long did that take you?”

 “Ha—hmm, about forty-five minutes maybe an hour,” Henry added.

 “Is that what you think I should do?”

He shrugged, then raked his fingers through his curly tousled hair, and you wondered if he’d even bothered using a comb or a brush this whole time. He didn’t look disheveled, though. He looked perfect like this.

“I can’t say. It’s up to you.”

 Again, your eyes locked, and you were just waiting, wishing for him to give you any hint at all that he wasn’t done with you and just being polite and hospitable.

 “Thank you for bringing my bags, Henry.”

 “You’re welcome.” He smiled then spoke again. “Out of curiosity, how long were you staying? You have enough bags to say a few weeks.”

 “Um—one thing you’ll learn about me, I overpack all the time. I can’t seem to, no matter how hard I try, but I’d rather have something I need rather than not have it when I need it,” you answered.

 He nodded, then uncrossed his legs before changing his position.

 “How—how long are you staying?”

 “I planned on being here for about a week, maybe.”

 You nodded, “Then?”

 “Not sure. I’m not making plans for the next three and a half weeks at least,” he answered.

 Tens of things flashed through your head to say, but you were still trying to read him and the situation. After a few seconds of silence, Henry spoke again.

 “You’re—uh—you’re welcome to tag along wherever the wind blows.”

 You didn’t like the sound of “welcome to,” but you also knew you’d already fucked the situation up, so you shouldn’t have any expectations. You sighed, then bit your bottom lip, trying to stop your lips from opening. You had the worst censor.

 “Welcome? Huh, somehow that sounds different than an—invitation.”

 Henry scoffed then nodded. “Last time I gave you an invitation, you didn’t really accept it or gracefully decline it.”

 Damn, you thought. He’d thrown that right at you with force. You deserved it. He was right, you hadn’t accepted the invite, and it was done in true Aliya fashion—avoidance.

 “Wow. Did you really just call me ungraceful?”

 You bit your bottom lip, fighting the smile.

 “You called yourself that,” Henry answered.

 Another long stretch of silence filled the room, and the longer it went on, the more nervous you got. Henry pushed off the wall.

 “I’ll make some lunch,” he said before he walked out.

 Once he was gone, you breathed out and tried to catch your breath. There was something about him that always gave off an overwhelming feeling. It wasn’t a feeling of you being afraid but in a heightened state. Of what? You were still trying to figure it out. You slowly began unpacking your things while setting all your contacts on an alert. You were going to try his strategy to see if you would actually be able to enjoy this vacation.

 About an hour later, you walked out of what was designated as your room and walked through the house, looking into rooms with open doors and around corners for where he could be. Following your nose and the delicious scent of roasted vegetables, you stepped into the kitchen expecting to see him, only to find it empty. Backtracking, you walked to the opened doors that led outside and saw him putting down a bottle of white wine on the rustic walnut table that had two place settings filled with the fruits of his labor.

 “Right on time. I was going to come knocking.”

 You smiled and tipped your head back to take in the wood and vines wrapped around the pergola.

 “No need. I cannot get over this view,” you said.

 “Do you come to France a lot?”

 “No. I come once in a while, usually for work.”

 “Ever Baldon?”

 You approached the table, sliding your finger along the Rattan chair that accompanied the table.

 “No.”

 “Nice, so you’re a tourist,” Henry said with a smile as he pulled out a chair for you.

 You returned his smile and sat down. “I am.”

 As he walked to his seat adjacent to yours, you took in the spread before you. “What do we have here?”

 “Avocado salad with mozzarella and roast beef sliders on Fiselle,” Henry explained as he pointed out everything he mentioned.

 You were impressed. “Wow. Did you make this?”

 His smile was wide; he looked proud. “I did. The roast beef was leftover from last night, and the avocado salad was quick. The bread was store-bought from the bakery in town, though.”

 It all looked delicious. “So you can cook.”

 “Yes, I can. My mother taught me; she taught all of us. She said it was her gift to our future significant others.”

 You chuckled, already liking his mother. Henry motioned for you to try something, and you wasted no time doing so. You placed a forkful of the salad into your mouth, your eyes instantly closing. You moaned at the avocado's buttery taste and how the flavors of the mozzarella and lemony but sweet vinaigrette complemented the tang of the vegetables.

 “This is good.”

 Henry’s smile widened as he picked up one of his sliders.

 “Thank you. Do you like French food?”

 “I do.”

 He nodded again as he finished chewing what was in his mouth. “Good, you’ll be eating a lot of it.

 You couldn’t help but smile because it sounded like he planned on cooking for you more often. You liked the sound of that and everything it meant. The two of you ate in relative silence, but it wasn’t an awkward one. You were enjoying the feel of the sun beaming down on you through the vines and the sound of the ocean, you guessed was only a few miles away. You could even smell the salt in the air from it. Henry did look to be in dire need of conversation either. He seemed happy to listen to the song of the birds and the rustling of the leaves. You were glad for it because it gave you the needed time to get your thoughts together.

 However, your thoughts only dwelled on one thing; the prospect of him hating that you were there.

 “Are you freaked out that I’m here?”

 Henry didn’t immediately speak. He lifted his glass and leisurely drank half of it before placing it back on the table. “All honesty, I’m just a little confused,” he began.

 The taste of the wine on your tongue told you there was more than grapes in it. You tasted pear and even strawberries. It tasted like France.

 “Yeah.”

 “I do find it interesting that to you, I’m worth tracking my phone.”

 You smiled and brought the glass back to your lips, using it more as a distraction than anything else.

 “So you don’t plan on calling the FBI and telling them what I did?”

 He snorted and leaned back in his chair. “Nah, you’re safe there.”

 “It’s not as hard as you think. You just need the person’s full name and phone number,” you matter of factly advised.

 “Also, a friend with the skill.”

 You nodded again, not wanting to give anything away. From the corner of your eye, you could see him smiling like a fool trying not to laugh out loud. It was too much for you, and you had to laugh out loud. In seconds, he joined in, and any tension between you melted away.

After lunch, Henry suggested a quick look around, so you hopped on the back of his Ducati, and he gave you the driving tour of the area. He pointed out the bakery that supplied him with all his baked goods, the local butcher where he got the best cuts of meat, and even the local winery. The town was beautiful, and the best part was that it was so close to the beach. It was everything that everyone thought of when they thought of a town on the Côte d'Azur—beautiful, quaint, luxurious, and a ten on the romantic potential scale.

 The entire time Henry remained the perfect gentleman. He kept his hands to himself, allowed you to go first, pulled out chairs, paid for all the small treats you sampled, and kept his language respectful. He was behaving so kind and professional it drove you crazy. The entire time you couldn’t ignore the magnetic pull you felt to him or the attraction that was growing by leaps and bounds thanks to the change of his appearance. He looked so good, and your body recognized it.

 Your eyes always found each other no matter the size of the crowd or how far you were from one another. When your eyes met, they lingered so long the butterflies in your belly swarmed wildly, making you feel as if you’d run a marathon. You could even tell by the way he looked at you that he might have been feeling the same attraction, but still, he stayed away.

By the time you took a break, the sun was gone, and it was dinner time. Henry chose a restaurant with the perfect ocean view and the sweetest breeze. There was nothing that could have been more perfect. As you sat at the table across from him, eating a classic seaside French meal—Bouillabaisse. As you ate, you listened to a story Henry told about his childhood and the reason why his parents had to put him and his brothers in different sports. It turned out their competitive natures was too much with all of them grouped together, the testosterone needed to be split up.

 It was nice getting a different viewpoint of him. Through his work, you got the professional view, and through the magazines and photoshoots the sex symbol view but hearing personal stories in the town where he’d chosen for holiday because of sentimental reasons at a restaurant he’d probably eaten at tens of times really made you want to get to know him better and give him a real chance. By the time you’d finished your dessert and began on your way back to the villa, you made the choice. Try.

 The house was quiet, and thanks to the windows and doors he’d left open, it smelled of sea salt, lemons, and the lavender that bathed the surrounding hills. It was a smell you’d gladly get used to.

 “Thank you for dinner,” you said once you were in the living room.

 “No need to thank me. You have to eat,” he replied with a polite smile that made you clench your jaw.

 “How um—how long have you been here?”

 “A few days.”

 You nodded but didn’t know what else to say. With the combination of the wine, the aphrodisiac oysters in the Bouillabaisse, and the smell of lavender, you felt a gentle lull of relaxation that made you feel ten times shier than you usually were. Henry didn’t speak though his eyes looked as if he had plenty to say. After a few minutes of silence, a confused look washed across his face before he looked down and sighed.

 “Good night, Aliya.”

 The words caught you off guard, but you nodded and hid it.

 “Good night, Henry.”

 It was a shaky whisper. You then watched Henry turn from you and walk off in the opposite direction than where your room was. You stood there for a few moments longer, debating with yourself on if you should follow him or not. When you thought to, you had no idea what you’d say when you did. When you finally decided just to call it a night, you’d stood in the dark living room for almost five minutes.

 After a quick shower, you laid in bed staring at the full moon through the window, hoping somehow sleep would claim you, but after forty minutes of tossing and turning, you gave up and watched the moon instead. For the first time in months, you didn’t feel the urge to work. All you felt was a stillness in you that was very new—but welcomed all the same.

 “Tomorrow is another day, Aliya. Make it right.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#kismet fic #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x black ofc #black fanfiction #slow burn fanfic

[starwar-imagines]

imagine...

your alarm goes off but you’ve barely slept. it’s so loud, and more robotic of a tone than you’re used to. groaning, you roll to the side and reach a hand out to slam on the snooze button. instead of your small alarm clock your full palm makes contact with something round and plastoid with a loud thwap. you open your eyes just in time to watch the thing you thought was your alarm clock slap you.

it’s cc2224 marshal commander cody!

“wake up, y/n” he says, standing up from where he’d been kneeling on the floor. “you have a long day ahead of you.”

“where am i?” you ask.

“this is a stolen imperial cruiser under the command of obi wan kenobi,” cody says. “do you remember who that is?”

you roll your eyes and pull your long brown hair into  a messy bun. “of course i know who obi wan kenobi is he’s always with that senator from naboo. she causes so much trouble in the senate. are they fucking or something?”

“y/n she was married to anakin skywalker who is now evil and she died,” cody tells you. “put on your armor and shut up before i have to make you. you can’t go around saying stuff like that. there are a lot of hurt people here.”

“hurt like physically or emotionally”

“both.”

you shrug, pulling on a fresh pair of blacks to go on underneath your armor. it was so nice of them to make you a set even though you’re not a clone. you’re hot though so there’s a tit window. you find it very convenient perhaps to store a snack to go.

when you’re ready clone marshal commander cody cc2224 gestures into the hallway with his head and you walk out into the cruiser. god, these guys really are into the whole industrial look. would it kill to get a few of those lightbulbs fancy restaraunts have on their patios out here? maybe she could get senator ami-- oh, maybe not.

the hallways go on forever but you’re excited to meet obi wan kenobi so it doesn’t really matter. eventually cody pulls out a scomp link and gets you through one last door. there’s an egg looking thing and it spins around. 

it’s darth vader!

“y/n you have committed treason against the empire” he says robotically.

“i literally just woke up what did i do” you ask.

“your crimes are punishable by death”

“what the fuck darth vader!” you say, spitting at his feet just because he can’t do that anymore. “kill me then see if i care.”

suddenly there is a spark and you hear him scream. “CC2224″ he yells “GET THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER!!!!”

“i don’t have it but i have my gun don’t worry sir” says the man you believed to be your alarm clock, then your friend. he pulls it out and it’s a water squirt gun!

“NO YOU FOOL WATER IS BAD TO USE ON ELECTRICAL FIRES” vader screams collapsing to the floor. they are his last words. he disappears robot armor and all in a cloud of force smoke.

“congratulations y/n you saved the galaxy” cody says, bowing deeply to you. gently he takes your shoulder and leans in close. your throat tightens and your pulse races with anticipation. could he be----- he spins you around and you see three doors where you came in from. “behind one of these doors is obi wan kenobi. which one do you choose?”

“cant i open all three” you ask “NO!” cody replies. “fine i’ll pick the middle.”

the door on the right opens and a droid rolls out. “you can keep your choice or switch” it beeps in binary.

“i’ll keep it” you say.

“are you sure about that?” asks cody in a british accent. “that’s the worse option statistically”

“i have a feeling,” you say. cody nods and opens the middle door. it’s..... obi wan kenobi!

“congratulations y/n” he says. “you saved the galaxy. and what a perfect messy bun you have also.”

“thanks obi wan kenobi” you say with a smile.

#star wars #star wars imagines #cc-2224 #obi wan kenobi #darth vader

[365days365movies]

May 1: The Prestige (2006) (Recap: Part Two)

Now, where were we? Oh, right!

Wolverine’s trying to take down Batman for killing his wife and ruining his life, but can’t do it, even with the help of Black Widow and Alfred Pennyworth. So, he goes to the United States to meet Gollum, who’s working for Nicola Tesla. 

That sound about right, Nick Jonas of the Jonas Brothers: Living the Dream?

Awesome! Thanks, man; thought you were underrated as Marius in Les Mis. Anyway, let’s get back to it! 

Part One is right here!

Recap (2/2)

We flash forward AGAIN to Borden in prison, who’s agreed to sell almost all of his tricks to the representative from before. However, he will only sell the last trick (the Transported Man), if Caldolw comes there himself, with his daughter (whom he agreed to keep out of the workhouses). Meanwhile, he plays a magic trick on a guard, in a fashion that’s genuinely funny and well-done.

The builder of the machine, who is once again friggin’ Nicola Tesla, appears to speak with Angier. Oh, and by the way, Nicola Tesla is FUCKING DAVID BOWIE OH MY GOD!! After showing him a lightbulb powered by bioelectricity, the two sit down for a meal. Tesla speaks on how his visionary status is less-than-appreciated at this point. Still, he offers to make the machine for Angier, but also asks if he’s considered the cost. And not just the monetary one.

While Tesla recommends against Angier’s passions, recognizing it as an obsession, he does agree to build it, recognizing that he will not stop these obsessions. From there, we flashback AGAIN and see Angier backstage, shortly after his failure (and Borden’s sabotage). Still angered at Borden’s new life and success, he goes to his show to observe a new trick he’s debuting, called “The Transported Man.” 

Consorting with Olivia, he gets a better disguise to look in on Borden’s act. And when he does...he sees the greatest trick he’s ever seen. Borden goes in through one door, then comes out of another. When he tells Cutter about the trick, Cutter insists that it’s a double. But both Olivia and Angier agree that it wasn’t a double, given that both had the missing fingers from Angier’s shooting attempt. Still, they don’t know HOW Borden does it. So, with Cutter’s advice, they find a double to sit in for Angier for their own version of the trick. This double is drunk and unemployed actor Gerald Root (Hugh Jackman), who is...kind of a dick. Still, the two do look alike (obviously).

With more pizzazz and showmanship than Borden displayed, Angier’s version of the Transported Man is a big success, and Angier is a success as a result. However, there’s a drawback; because he’s switching places with Root, he’s underneath the stage, rather than on top of it. Because of this, he can’t actually appreciate the applause of the audience first hand. Which means quite a lot to him for some reason. And so, he STILL needs to figure out how Borden’s act work. To do so, he asks Olivia (with whom he’s in a new relationship) to spy on Borden by pretending to defect to his side. Which angers Olivia, but she agrees.

Flash forward to Colorado, and to the first experiment of the machine that Tesla’s built. He believes that the machine should be able to transport a person or object from one place to another. They use Angier’s top hat for the demonstration, watching electricity arc around it, and...nothing happens. The hat’s still there. The experiment is a failure, but Tesla will keep at it (for Angier’s money, of course).

Back to the past, where it’s revealed that Olivia is...really fucking pissed at Angier, it turns out. See, she actually did LOVE him, and he cast her away like little more than hired help in order to succeed in his rivalry with Borden, basically telling her that she means little to him, as compared to the feud. So, she betrays Angier by telling Borden about Root. Borden tells Root that he holds power over Angier, convincing him to blackmail him. A drunken Root agrees, but this is also part of Borden’s plan.

See, Borden shows up at the show, and takes away a pad under the trap door through which Angier falls for the trick, causing him to hit the floor badly, and permanently hobbling him. Now under the stage, the asshole Borden takes Root’s place, and Angier’s spotlight, humiliating his rival to LITERALLY add insult to injury. Fuck Borden, he’s a dick.

An understandably enraged Angier goes to Olivia to find out, y’know...what the FUCK? But, after she angrily confronts her, she gives him Borden’s journal, which she’s pinched. However, the journal is written with a cipher in order to prevent any looky-loos from figuring out his secrets. To get the cipher’s key, Angier crosses YET ANOTHER line, and kidnaps Fallon, Borden’s stage engineer. Reluctantly, Borden gives Angier the key to the cipher: TESLA. That leads him to Tesla, and back to America, where Angier is from. But Cutter’s done; he’s not coming along this time. Angier’s obsession with Borden is just that: Angier’s obsession, not his. So, Angier’s on his own.

That night, with Olivia, Fallon, and his wife Sarah, Borden celebrates at dinner! However, Sarah’s not happy, AT ALL, it turns out. I haven’t mentioned this yet, but Borden’s relationship with Sarah is tumultuous as hell. As she describes it, some days he’s all into their marriage and their relationship, and he truly seems to love her. But some days...he isn’t. Some days, he’s into magic whole-heartedly, and into his secrets, which she HATES. This comes up at dinner, where it’s also fairly apparent that Borden is cheating on her with Olivia. YIKES.

As the marriage is falling apart, we go back to Colorado Springs, where Angier is once more reading Borden’s diary. He’s had it the whole time he’s been in Colorado, by the way, but we only now found out where he got it. As he reads it, he’s shocked to see that the diary is now...directly addressing him. Oh...fuck.

Turns out Olivia was REALLY FUCKING PISSED at Angier, and has COMPLETELY betrayed him for Borden, with whom she’s fallen in love. Yeah, fuck. Borden told her to give Angier the diary, knowing that it would send him back to his home country of America on a wild goose chase, as he actually NEVER went to Tesla for the key to his trick. Which means that Angier is there for absolutely no reason.

So, uh...Angier’s gonna punch a genius right now, because he’s now ALSO FUCKING PISSED (which pleases Borden greatly as he reads this in the diary). Convinced that Tesla was stealing his money for a fraudulent cause, he storms there immediately. The lab’s been burned out by Edison’s men, but Tesla and Alley are still there, and they actually don’t know why the experiment didn’t work. They give it one more shot, with Alley’s cat this time. And...

Nothin’. Just an electrified cat. Alive, but probably all static-y now. Anyway, Tesla apologizes, and a frustrated Angier leaves the facility, followed by the understandably freaked out cat. And the other cat is also freaked out. And...oh. OH.

Turns out - TURNS FUCKING OUT - that the machine isn’t a teleporter; it’s a cloning machine! YEAH! And as soon as the cloning is revealed...I figure the whole movie out. I mean it. I figured out the twist! Here, lemme try it on for size. First of all, Angier isn’t dead. His double from the experiment died, in order to frame Borden for his murder and ruin him. Secondly, the person who’s aiming to buy Borden’s trick? It’s him. He’s the “mysterious collector.” 100%, I goddamn guarantee it. Oh, and while we’re at it, I know who Fallon is! Fallon is Borden’s double, because Borden’s only performed the experiment successfully ONCE! When he did, he made a double of himself, and that double is the silent and mysterious Fallon, who seems to care for Borden’s daughter greatly. That’s it! I figured out the goddamn movie! BET. FUCKING BET

Well, I’ll find out soon, I’m sure. Tesla’s forced out of town the next day, but he’s left Angier the box, containing the cloning machine that would be his end. He tests it...but we don’t see whether or not it works. Hmm. Borden’s as interested as I am in this...and then reads on as the diary starts addressing HIM. FUCK. Angier did in fact frame Borden for his death. And with that knowledge...Borden’s done. Both because he’s been fooled, and because...well, that’s not all that’s happened to him recently.

Back in time again, and Sarah and Borden’s marriage is FALLING APART ENTIRELY. Sarah is done with Borden’s flip-flopping mentalities, realizing even now that he’s not currently in love with her. She’s not OK. And unfortunately...she hangs herself shortly afterwards. Yeah. It’s terrible, and Borden drove her FUCKING CRAZY. I DO NOT LIKE THIS ASSHOLE. Poor, poor Sarah. Sucks.

That’s led, of course, to their child being without a mother, which is why Borden agrees to allow the mysterious Lord Caldlow to look after her. And once he arrives at the prison to collect Borden’s final trick as agreed...yup.

Alive, well, and now ABSOLUTELY AN ASSHOLE TOO, Angier has taken on his ACTUAL identity: Robert Caldlow, British nobleman! Holy shit. HOLY SHIT I WAS RIGHT. Now realizing how...FUCKING CRAZY this whole thing is, Borden’s fucked. At the same time, Cutter is to deliver the Box to the estate. Although Caldlow tries to avoid the interaction, the interaction happens, and Cutter is also ABSOLUTELY FUCKING ENRAGED!!! A lot of anger in this movie.

Anyway, yeah! Angier was fucking dead! And now, Borden’s life is absolutely ruined for something that, to be fair, he didn’t actually do! But there’s a question...how the fuck is this possible? I mean, we know a lot of the details. but not everything. It is at this point, though, that we flashback to the night in question.

First things first, Olivia is tried of this bullshit. She’s leaving before it’s too late, because their obsessions with each other is too fucking much. With Angier about to debut a new trick, a new version of the “Transported Man”, Borden goes to the show night-after-night, despite the fact that his wife is dead, kinda because of him. But whatever, amirite? MAGIC RULES ALL

Borden attends the show multiple times, and night after night, Angier enters the machine, and his double appears above the audience seconds later, which astounds and amazes. Finally, Borden’s fed up, and he makes his way backstage to figure out what the FUCK is happening. And that’s when we get back to the beginning. The clone of Angier dies in the water tank, and Borden’s framed for the crime. And it worked.

Realizing now that he’s fucked, Borden in the modern day says his tearful goodbyes to the always silent Fallon, admitting his faults, and apologizing to him for what happened with Sarah? Huh. But a part of me wonders whether or not Borden can escape. I mean, he’s an escape artist and a magician, right?

No. Borden is brought to the gallows to be done. And when they ask if he has anything more to say...he does.

...Holy shit.

After this, we go back to Caldlow/Angier. He brings the machine to the theatre with the help of Cutter. There, he prepares to burn the theatre and the box, and a water tank also in the cellar. And then, he’s shot. Wait, wait, he’s fucking SHOT? By...oh. OHHHHHH.

Fallon. FALLON shoots Caldlow/Angier. But it’s not Fallon really. No, no. This is THE OTHER Alfred Borden, who’s been disguised as Fallon the whole time. But wait! There’s FUCKING MORE! As Angier/Caldlow dies (YES DIES), we learn the truth from both sides. Let’s start with Borden.

See, this entire time, through all the BULLSHIT that Angier went through to make this goddamn stupid fucking trick work...Cutter was right. THE ENTIRE TIME. But how did Borden to the Transported Man? Easy: he has a twin brother. HE HAS A FUCKING TWIN BROTHER!!! I was wrong! The real trick is that the brothers sacrificed their individuality in order to play the same person! This whole goddamn time! HOLY SHIT! That’s also why Sarah noted that Borden seemed like two people at once sometimes! In fact, one brother loved Sarah, and the other loved Olivia! Holy fucking SHIT! But what about the hands, you ask? Easy! To commit to the bit, the other brother CUT HIS FUCKING FINGERS OFF!!! WHAT IN THE EVERLOVING FUCK?!?

Now THAT is a fucking twist! And Angier’s equally as impressed. But OK...how did Angier do his trick? Simple; by killing his clones EVERY SINGLE FUCKING NIGHT WITH THE WATER TANK! Which is just SUPER FUCKED when you think about it! He’s killing himself every night, because when he steps in to the machine, he never knows if he’s the man in the water or on the stage! He’s literally drowning himself every night, in the same way that his wife died! And you know the REALLY FUCKED UP THING? 

HE ALREADY TRIED TO DO THE EXACT SAME THING EARLIER

Yeah! That’s from before, shortly after his wife died! And he did that every night, WAITING for the right moment to get his revenge on Borden to frame him for murder! ISN’T THAT ABSOLUTELY FUCKED?!? I LOVE IT!

So, yeah, that’s all well and good, but for the love of God, WHY? Angier got his revenge already with the better showmanship from his first revision of Borden’s trick, so why do it like this now? Well, Angier’s reply is that he did it to see the magic on people’s faces when they realized the trick in front of them. I mean...you’re fuckin’ CRAZY dude, but I respect your devotion to the craft?

Angier dies, and the lantern falls on the ground, causing everything to start burning. And as Borden walks away from this mess, we hear Caine’s narration come in again, and go back to that first scene with him and the little girl, whom we now know is Borden’s daughter. And luckily for her, her ACTUAL FATHER, the right Borden, is the one who’s still alive. He comes for her, with Cutter’s blessings, and his narration continues. And as it does, Borden in the fast, in the theatre, looks back at the scene around him. And he realizes what he’s looking at.

Every magic trick consists of 3 parts, or "acts." The first part is called "the Pledge." The magician shows you something ordinary. The second act is called "the Turn." The magician takes the ordinary something, and makes it into something extraordinary. But, you wouldn't clap yet, because making something disappear isn't enough... you have to bring it BACK. Now, you're looking for the secret. But you won't find it, because, of course, you're not really looking. You don't really want to work it out. You want to be... FOOLED.

That’s The Prestige, and uh...holy fucking SHIT. See you in the Review.

#the prestige #christopher nolan #christopher priest #hugh jackman #robert angier #angier #robert caldlow #christian bale #alfred borden #michael caine #scarlett johansson #rebecca hall #andy serkis #piper perabo #david bowie #science fiction may #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #usercoppola #userlove #usergrinsekatze #mygifs

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Thirty-Seven

Table of Content or Part Thirty-Six

Read chapter here on wattpad

Word Count: 3.2K

Warning(s): Explicit language, Drug abuse, mentions of abuse

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"...I don't think that's necessary." I argue, stepping down the hallway with Ross and Tansy at my heels.

"Oh, c'mon, Viv, it's one shoot." Tansy tells me. "I think it would be nice."

"Of course you would, Tansy. You like stuff like that." I reply. "I have no business being in a magazine like that."

"It's Metal Edge." Ross interjects with this British accent in my ears. "All you need to do is be pretty and stand against a wall with Nikki for a couple of pictures." He explains and I glare back at him.

"Isn't it a rock magazine that covers musicians?" I ask.

"Yeah." He tells me.

"Hmm. I'm not a musician. I have no business being in it." I make my point.

"Your Nikki's wife. You've got a pretty face and banging body and the fans will appreciate that." He argues.

"Ah, so now I'm the little extra on the side so when the fans get done reading about their favorite band, they can rub one out imagining the bassist's pretty wife with a banging body, naked."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Yeah, you did." I state as we walk towards Nikki, Vince, Tommy, and Mick.

"Can we hurry up and take this, man?" Nikki asks him.

"Tell your wife to take a picture for the damn magazine." Ross states to him.

"Wife, take a picture for the damn magazine." Nikki repeats with very little enthusiasm.

"No." I cross my arms, looking up at him.

"Vivian, they told me to get a couple of photographs with you and Nikki together." Ross continues to plead. "It's one picture. You're not selling your soul."

I look at Tansy as she's giving me a small, reassuring, smile.

"Fine." I give up, rolling my eyes.

Ross let's out a breath of relief being that we've been going back and forth for 45 minutes now.

"I'll go get ready while you guys do whatever." I tell him.

"Thank you!" He calls after me, as Tansy has my hand in hers, pulling me to the dressing room.

Ross Haflin was the band's photographer that documented every tour.

Everything from random, sweet, camaraderie filled candids of the band, to pictures from their shows that you can practically hear the music through, to even some full frontal nudity shots of someone in the band who will not be named. (Hint: It's definitely not Mick.)

I finish my makeup as Tansy finishes curling my hair, examining her work in the mirror.

Once I get changed into the tight black minidress and red heels Tansy tosses my way, we're meeting Ross and Nikki in the hall.

Nikki's face is lighting up like a lightbulb when he sees me, I don't know if it's because of coke in his system or if he's just glad to see me.

"You look great." He grins at me, his eyes looking me up and down before placing random kisses all over my face, causing me to smile like an idiot.

"10 minutes, guys." Doc says just as we're kissing, pulling the both of us back from each other to stand against the wall.

"Try to look like you love each other." Ross says sarcastically after Nikki pulls me closer beside him. "Alright, one, two..." Ross counts off. Just as he says "three" Nikki's fingers are tickling at my side, cause me to laugh and jerk a little, ruining the picture.

"Nikki." I complain, nudging at him a little.

After several more attempts to take a serious photo, one of them involving him pulling the bottom of my dress up, we finally get the winning picture: him with my crucifix between his bared teeth, looking directly at the camera, while my mouth is pulled into a smile as I laugh at his stupidity, my arms loosely around his waist.

After the show, Doc is pulling the guys back into the dressing room before they can entertain the idea of changing really quick and hitting the town.

"Something good has happened." Doc tells them, smiling, leaving us glancing at each other in confusion.

"What is it?" Tansy and I both ask at the same time, my heart racing despite him saying it's good news.

"As of today, Shout At The Devil and Theater of Pain have both been certified double-platinum." Doc informs us. 

I look at Nikki to gauge his reaction as Tansy let's out an excited shrill, engulfing Tommy and Vince both in a hug. She goes to do the same to Mick, but he looks at her blankly, only making her squeeze at his hand with a proud smile. 

"Nikki?" I ask cautiously, seeing him wearing a neutral expression, my arm looping around his.

"Who the fuck are these people?" He questions suddenly, causing us to fall silent. "Who the fuck listens to us that much?" He adds and I rub my lips together. 

"People who really love you." Tansy states like it's known knowledge. 

I don't think Nikki knew he was capable of being loved as unconditionally as their fans loved them. 

Later that night, laying in the silent hotel room, hearing Vince have his nightly menage a trois as Tansy sleepily tosses beside me in our bed. 

Me and her have been left by Nikki and Sparkie, Tommy tagging along, to go out.

Tansy's been attempting sobriety...kind of?

"Ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh!" Short, high-pitched squeaks leaves one of the girls Vince is with and I cringe in disgust.

"Ew." I mumble, trying to cover my ears.

"It's so fucking big." The other girl comments in a wanton moan.

"It's not that big." Tansy comments tiredly, causing me to choke on my spit. "It's good, but he never had me—"

"Oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum!" The first girl nearly screams out, causing Vince to groan.

The next thing we hear through the thin walls is the sound of gushing liquid hitting the wall we're against as the girl gives out a cry.

"Okay, he's either upped his game or they're getting off on the fact they're simply fucking Vince Neil because I definitely did not do that when we dated." Tansy's interested now, sitting up and pressing her ear against the wall.

"Why on Earth would you want to hear that?!" I scold in a whisper. "You pervert." I add.

"My turn." The second girl pipes sultrily. "Did I mention I can lock my ankles behind my neck?" 

"Awe, Viv, you can do that." Tansy whispers, nudging my arm with her hand as if that makes me and the random woman kindred spirits.

"How do you know that?" I ask her with furrowed brows.

"Tape 2, four minute and forty-three second mark." She says casually, focusing on hearing the action next door.

"You've seen our sex tape?!" I keep my voice to a loud whisper.

"I've seen all of them." She replies. "You look hot in them, don't worry."

"I—"

"I'd like to see that." Vince tells the woman arrogantly, interrupting what I was about to say.

"Gross." I groan out, covering my head with my pillow to drown out the noises.

After a couple more minutes of trying not to vomit from hearing his sex, I'm snatching the covers off myself and stepping to the door.

"Where are you going?" Tansy asks me and I ignore her, going out in the hall and banging on Vince's door with the flat of my palm.

The door opens, and I'm face to face chest with Tommy...a naked Tommy.

I avoid looking down.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I ask him, seeing a naked woman wrap her arms around his waist, peeking at me from behind him. "You're suppose to be out with Nikki and Sparkie."

"We got back early." Tommy explains to me, pupils blown out.

"Where's Sparkie and Nikki?"

He steps to the side and motions to Sparkie, who's gang-banging another woman with Vince.

I feel sick to my stomach.

"Where's Nikki?"

Tommy's hand curls into a fist as his knuckles knock at the bathroom door beside him.

"Sixx?!" He asks, and I already know what Nikki being locked in the bathroom, avoiding a good time, means: he's high as shit.

The bathroom door, revealing Nikki as he slumps against the door frame, his eyes struggling to stay open as he looks at me.

"Uhh...you good, man?" Tommy asks him, cautiously.

"Yeah, dude." Nikki slurs, taking a step forward to me.

"I got him." I tell Tommy, helping Nikki out the door. "Enjoy the rest of your night." I tell Tommy, ignoring the moans and screams of the girl Sparkie and Vince are working on.

I leave before Tommy can reply, Nikki leaning against me as I knock on our room door.

After several attempts, and Tansy still hasn't come yet, I pull the other key out of Nikki's pants pocket and unlock the door.

A bitter, horrid smell invades my nose, and I see Tansy crouching in front of a hotplate, looking at me wide-eyed, pipe in hand as she eagerly awaits the base to cook up.

That moment I found out Tansy was dabbling in crack.

She did a complete nose dive into it a couple months later, and once Vanity taught Nikki how to properly cook it up, smoke it, and get the biggest high of it, he, Vanity and Tansy would just lay around our house and smoke crack together.

I didn't mention it to Tansy the next day because I had other things on my mind...such as Sparkie having a death wish.

You can hear a pin drop in here. Even the flight attendants are holding their breath.

It seems Tommy, Nikki, and Mick have sobered up on the spot the second Sparkie says, "well, I didn't have any cash on me, and your purse was on the bus so I just made a trade. I didn't think you would need them anymore. You seem pretty happy to me, lately" once I'm digging around in my purse, asking the guys if they've seen my Nardil anywhere because it's time for me to take it.

I'm still trying to figure out if I heard him right.

Fred's getting antsy, I see him from the corner of my eye as he slowly stands from his spot, waiting for me to attack with my teeth going for the bastard's neck.

Vince just has this little smirk on his face because he knows Sparkie is about to meet his maker.

"W-what?" Tansy squeaks at her boyfriend, confused as to why her sweet, innocent, precious little Sparkler would do such a thing to her best friend.

"Where are my pills?" I ask Sparkie just to clarify.

He looks at me with raised brows.

"I told you, Vivian, I didn't have any money. I needed some blow. I remembered you keep them in your purse, which was on the bus, which was unlocked. I got your pills out and made a trade." He repeats to me like I was too stupid to understand him the first time.

"You heard him, right, Doc?" I ask.

"I--yeah?" Doc replies, uneasy at my calmness.

"Good. Because a jury will need to hear a witness and know I had justification for finally killing this motherfucker!" I lunge over the seat in front of me to grab fistfuls of Sparkie's greasy hair, Tansy screaming as she stumbles out of her seat beside him.

"Vivian!" Doc's yelling as he reaches his hand out, trying to pry me off of Sparkie.

I turn and kick him in the chest with my heel, still leaned over the seats, my arm around Sparkie's neck, hopefully crushing his throat as he fights against me, sputtering and gasping for air as Tansy's crying and pleading with me, but I don't hear a word she says.

Tommy and Nikki come to Doc's aid, the both of them grabbing at me, only causing me to kick at them and swing my free hand.

"You fucking kick me, I'm laying your ass out, Viv!" Nikki threatens me sharply.

I look at him, directly in the eye, and kick him as hard as I can in the arm.

His eyes go wild, an ugly sneer pulls at his lips to expose grinding teeth, and he grabs me by my hair, causing me to whimper out as tears prick my eyes from the pain, and forces me off the seats to the floor.

Because I've always been glutton for punishment when I'm angry, him nearly scalping me wasn't enough.

My foot collides with Nikki's crotch so hard he doubles over and falls to the floor, completely disregarding me, and giving me time to reach up beside me and grab the Jack Daniels bottle sitting in the seat Tommy just got up from.

Sparkie's trying to recover, taking long, heavy breaths, as the whiskey flies from the Jack bottle as it hits him square in the head.

Fred snatches me off the floor, manhandling me like he would do one of the guys, and throws me into the small bathroom, locking me inside for the remainder of the flight, only yanking me out and making me sit next to him and buckle up to land.

Sparkie was taken to the nearest hospital to make sure he wasn't suffering from a concussion, and I was getting the chewing out of a lifetime.

"You just can't start trying to kill people left and right, Vivian." Fred snaps as we step to the car that's taking us to the hotel. "You're gonna fuck around and get sued and no offense, Nikki, but you can't afford that." He adds and Nikki scoffs.

"None fucking taken." He mumbles back.

"He traded my antidepressant for blow!" I argue.

"I think she did a great thing." Vince tells them. "The little bitch deserved it."

"Thank you, Vince." I say to him and Nikki scoffs out bitterly, causing me to turn to look at him.

"What?" I ask him, not finding anything wrong with what I said.

"You would agree with him." He replies as we get into the limo.

"What's that suppose to mean?" I snap back at him.

He just shakes his head a little and looks straight ahead as Vince and Fred get into the seats across from us.

I almost ask where Tommy and Mick are, then I remember Tommy went with Tansy, Sparkie and Doc, to the hospital and planned to drop Mick off at the hotel on the way there.

"No need to be threatened just because  she slept in the bed with me." Vince tells him, reasonably. "You know that, right?"

Nikki's laughing it off as if he could never be threatened by Vince Neil...although it's so obvious he is.

"Well, Nikki, if it bothers you that much, maybe don't stay out all night." I suggest calmly. "I'm always gonna go find one of my friends and stay with them for the night because I don't like sleeping by myself. That doesn't mean I'm having sex with them or want to. I just get lonely."

"Well, when I get lonely, I don't crawl into bed with other people." He says it harshly and I roll my jaw.

"No, of course you don't. You just warm up to a needle and strip your veins." I argue in the same tone, seeing a brief glance of Satan in his hazel eyes before his hand, harshly, hits my thigh hard enough to leave a stinging, firey hot, dark red print that's welting up in the shape of his hand.

I didn't say a damn thing else to him until we got back to L.A. a couple days later for a a week-long break. All I could think about while avoiding my own husband, were Ross' words, "pretend you love each other" echoing in my brain.

People who really love each other don't kick, hit or talk to each other the way Nikki and I did.

Ross would always say, "alright, you love each other" or "look like you want to be together" before taking our picture.

At first it was light-hearted, but over the course of two years, it began being said with less light, and more of a command, which after after finding out what I did from his drug buddy/mistress, any commands about a picture made by Ross would be followed by me saying, "I don't wanna touch that doped up bastard-fuck" and Nikki saying, "I'm not getting anywhere near that rabid fucking bitch."

We would, of course, suck it up and take the pictures for the sake of the fans and our public image, but the second he said he was done, we were darting away from each other like we would die if we touched each other more than five minutes.

We could barely stand to be in the same room after Vanity dropped the bombshell which really wouldn't have blindsided me had I been paying more attention to all the screaming red flags the both of them were practically throwing at me. And if you've been in that situation, the signs are oh so clear in hindsight once you're taking a break between crying, to put the pieces you hadn't given a second thought before, together.

A huge one, possibly the most painful, was the giant roman numeral "V" Nikki had gotten tattooed on his arm months prior to the revealed betrayal. I hadn't thought anything of it at the time when I first saw it after he got back from getting it, other than "what significance does the number "five" have to him?" 

It was a roman numeral, but was also a "V."

For "Vanity." 

Once I came to that realization in the bathroom of the hotel we were staying at, that I had barricaded myself in, it hurt even worse than just seeing the woman I had practically given a house key to, joke about becoming "Vanity 6" once again after taking my husband's last name, while waving my wedding ring around. 

He didn't even have anything related to me tattooed on him and I was his wife. But he had no issue slapping a big-ass "V" on his arm and playing it off like a number. If "five" had a significant meaning to him at the time, it was because it was the number of times he bought heroin in a day.

All sanity left in me was tossed aside and it was fucking war from then on and I mean war.

After that, it seemed like every time Nikki and I were in a room together, everyone tensed up and prepared to either hit the floor to avoid being caught in the collateral in case Nikki or I started throwing shit at each other, or eyed their exits to escape being a witness to some fucked up things being said between me and him. 

Shortly after the Vanity incident, I figured since we were tattooing the initial of the people we told each other not to worry about on ourselves, Nikki wouldn't have minded seeing a perfectly sharp"D" on my upper hip—and Duff and I weren't even messing around yet at that time.

It was small, only about the size of a quarter, but it packed one hell of a punch when Nikki first laid eyes on it and I sarcastically, innocently, spat out, "but...it's just the roman numeral for 500."

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #mötley crüe #the dirt #gateway drug

[reddielibrary]

Halloween Extravagnza

Written by @gazebo-reddie

Gift for @sourmoist

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak

Word count: 2832

Rating: T

"Ok, so what about....this??" Richie perused the Halloween section on Amazon. He had searched 'Halloween couples costumes' and was met with a long list of 'boyfriend/girlfriend' costumes. He could tell Eddie was very annoyed at this point and on the verge of completely blowing it off.

Eddie looked towards the screen and huffed. "Does it fucking look like I want to be a loofa?? Are you fucking serious Richie?" He rolled his eyes and took the mouse from Richie's hand.

"I would have never assumed searching for Halloween costumes would be so fucking stressful." Richie sighed and leaned back into the computer chair. He rolled back a bit and pulled Eddie into his lap. "Is there any costume you have in mind? Maybe we could just make ours?"

Eddie situated himself to be more comfortable and placed his elbow on the desk. He rested his elbow on the table and pinched the upper bridge of his nose. "I have nothing in mind."

He continued to scroll down the long list of costumes, quickly getting to his limit. "UGH!!! THIS IS POINTLESS!!" He slammed the mouse down and threw himself back into Richie's chest. He made an 'oomph' sound at the impact, slightly getting the wind knocked out of him.

"Hey calm down Eds, maybe it's for the best." Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie's waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. He could see the blush on Eddie's cheek crawl up to the tip of his ear. At this point, Richie couldn't tell if it was from frustration or the way he was being manhandled by him.

"Oh fuck off you prick!" Eddie hissed at Richie and gave his knee a "love tap", as he liked to call it.

"I didn't even say anything!" Richie laughed and held Eddie closer.

"Oh my God, I can feel you smirking from a mile away!" He tried to struggle away but failed.

Richie gave Eddie a raspberry on his upper cheek, which resulted in him laughing and screaming "Richie!!!" In disgust.

As if it were a cartoon, an idea popped into Richie's head like a lightbulb. "Oh shit, I have an idea for a costume!!"

In the middle of wiping off the spit on his face, Eddie perked up. "What? What is it? Please tell me you're not joking because I really am not in the mood for jokes and--"

As Eddie continued to go on, Richie typed his idea into the search engine and smiled wide when it popped up.

"Oh hell no."

"Eddie please, it's perfect!!" Richie put his hands together in a praying motion still wrapped around Eddie.

"No Richie! I don't wanna look like a fucking idiot."

"We won't though! It'll be fun! Come on please!" Richie put on his puppy-eyes-face, which was always extreme due to his glasses magnifying his brown peepers.

Eddie stared into his eyes for a beat, then groaned out frustration. "Fuck. Fine. Whatever!" He huffed and crossed his arms, "But I swear! If I get made fun of or embarrassed, I will never talk to you again!” 

“Aight, deal! I’m happy with those stakes.” Richie placed the costumes in his cart and ordered them. “Anyways, I think there’s something worse than being embarrassed at the party.”

“You’re still caught up on that Rich? You know they’ll be happy for us. Knowing them they probably guessed it already.” Eddie placed his hand on Richie’s leg, rubbing it comfortingly. 

“Yea but what if they don’t agree...” Richie placed his hand on top of Eddie’s and squeezed.

Eddie could tell he was getting anxious and overstressed about this topic again. “If they don't, then we’ll just ditch them,” Eddie lifted Richie’s hand and gave it a light kiss. Richie loved it when Eddie showed affection, it immediately lowered his anxiety. “but you know they’ll be super happy for us. Come on Richie, its the Loser’s we’re talking about...”

“Yea yea I guess...” Richie sighed a sigh of relief and looked up at the back of Eddie’s head. He moved in close and gave it small kisses. 

Eddie laughed at the sensation and squeezed his hand. “Stop it Rich! That tickles you dip!” 

Richie ignored Eddie’s plea and continued to kiss the back of his head slowly moving down his neck. Eddie shivered from the sensation and let out a sigh. He was then surprised to feel and arm slink under his knees. 

“Oh my go-- Richie do not pick me up.” Richie ignored his request and lifted him anyway, gaining a tiny slap to his back. Eddie wiggled around, “You know I hate being picked up! DO you know how many accidents occur when people are picked up? Especially bridal style! Lots of people hit their heads on objects and get concussions-- how did I get on the bed?” 

Eddie usually never pays attention to his surroundings when he starts ranting so Richie found the moment the perfect opportunity to carry him to the bed. Richie laughed at Eddie’s flustered state and flopped down next to him. 

“Man I am fucking beat! I am ready to hit the sack, please.” He rolled onto his side and raised his arm trying to coax Eddie to cuddle with him. 

He rolled his eyes and turned off the lamp illuminating the room. He moved in closer and pressed his face into his chest. 

Richie hugged Eddie close and gave him a goodnight kiss on the top of his head. “Goodnight spaghetti boy o’ mine.” He felt a quick sharp pain in his leg and laughed. 

 “Night moron...,” (muffled speech) there was silence for a moment and Eddie said something that Richie could quite make out. 

“What?”

“I-I said...i...i love you. Now shut up and sleep before I die of embarrassment.” 

Richie smiled wide. Eddie couldn’t see because it was pitch black and his face was pressed into his chest, but he knew. 

“I love you too...”

They then drifted off to sleep in the warmth and comfort of each other’s presence and touch.

_______

Bevvie: Ok so where yall at?

Bird Boy: Me and Bill are right around the corner

Bevvie: Yea bu what about Rich and Ed? They’ve been MIA since this morning??????

Billie: Idk try calling him?

Bevvie: Ye ill do that

Bevvie: See u guys whn yal get here.

“R-Richie...” Richie grabbed at the back of Eddie’s shirt and pressed their lips harder together. From the corner of his eye, Eddie could see Richie’s phone light up. 

“Shit Beverly’s calling us.” 

“Just leave it...” Richie sighed, pressing his face into his neck, trying to avert his attention back to his lips but Eddie ignored him, picked up the phone, and answered.

“Yea?....oh yea it was just next to me so...yea we’re coming still...out of breath? No, I’m totally fine...” Eddie laughed nervously “Yea bye, see you guys later.” He hung up the phone and put it back down. 

Richie stared at him with a frustrated look. 

“You get to kiss me all the time Richie, why are you mad now?” Eddie crossed his arms and chuckled.

“I’m not mad at that you dip! I’m mad cuz you answered the phone! You know I don’t want to go to this party!” Richie grabbed his glasses from the bed and put them on. 

“Richie, oh my fucking god are you serious? We’ve talked about this party for weeks! Remember buying these stupid ass costumes?” Eddie angrily pointed at the couple's costume sitting next to them. 

Richie frowned. It’s not the party he was worried about though. Eddie seemed to have forgotten about the big secret they’ve been keeping from the rest of the world, aside from Richie’s mom who accidentally walked in on them making out once (she was completely supportive though). 

“Eddie... I don’t know if I can...,” Richie bit his fingernail from the anxiety building up in his chest “if I can come out to them.”

Eddie sighed and quickly felt saddened. “Richie...”

“They’ll be upset that I hid it from them, hid us from them. They’re not gonna want to be my friends Eddie! They’ll hate me!” Richie’s eyes started to well up. He looked down as the tears started to fall down. 

Eddie placed a hand on Richie’s cheek, wiping the tears away. “Calm down Richie, calm down.” He kissed his forehead and hugged him close. 

They stayed together for a while until Richie calmed down. Somehow, after lots of begging and consolation, Eddie convinced Richie to at least try going to the party. They put their costumes on and looked at each other. 

Richie burst out laughing. “Holy shit! You look hilarious. You look like a little gay uncle from the 70′s.” 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean!?” Eddie punched Richie in the arm and glared at him. “Anyways you look gayer than me! Come on you have a fucking white turtleneck on under a rainbow sweater vest!” 

“Yea but your turtleneck is yellow so....fuck you.” Richie laughed and grabbed his phone. “Let’s take a picture, Spaghetti.”

Eddie groaned and moved next to him to take a selfie. Rich took a few pictures and laughed. 

He raised his hand into the air and put on his stupid British voice. “Alright now. Let us venture off into the night and hopefully not get abandoned by the only people that love and care about me!”

“Yea yea finally let's go! We’re already an hour late...” 

They walked out of their dorm room and made their way downstairs to the lobby of the dorms.

--------------------

Richie parked his car out front of the building and took a deep breath. 

“Alright let's crash this fucking Halloween party.”

Eddie furrowed his brow and looked at Richie in confusion. “No Rich, we’re not crashing this party. Don’t you dare think about that.” 

“Just a joke sourpuss.” Richie moved over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 

Eddie laughed and they both made their way out of the car. Richie walked over to him and took his hand. He could feel the anxiety building up in his chest the closer they got to the front of the building. 

“Richie your hands are so clammy.” Eddie laughed and let go to wipe off the sweat. “Maybe you have hyperhidrosis, like when people get super sweaty and always have raisin fingers--”

Eddie looked back to see Richie standing still looking petrified. His eyes were wide and his mouth was open. He was hyperventilating and shaking. 

“Richie!?” Eddie’s heart dropped. He ran over to him and held his face.

Richie’s world was crashing down on him. He couldn’t breathe. His chest was tight like someone was squeezing his lungs. His legs trembled with fright and they soon gave out on him. Eddie fell to the ground with him, still holding his face. 

“I can’t,  I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!!” Richie choked out the only thing he could think about.

“Richie what’s wrong!? Why are you having a panic attack!?” Eddie held him close and comforted him as best he could but it didn’t seem like he was calming down. “I’m gonna go get the others! Beverly will know what to do!”

Richie couldn’t form words very well since it felt like his emotions were a tidal wave going through his brain. He tried to grab Eddie and not let him leave him, but he pulled away and ran to the party house. 

Eddie ran inside the house and looked around at the crowds of drunken college students yelling and dancing throughout the house. He panicked thinking he’d never find anyone in the crowds. He squeezed his way through the crowds looking around for firey red hair. 

He ran up to random people and asked if they knew Beverly but of course none of them knew. He ran down hallways and knocked on closed doors, even walking in on a few couples engaging in the fine sport of twister. Even after spamming the group chat, no one was answering anything.

He was at loss and out of breath. He was about to just give up and go back outside to comfort his fallen partner until he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Eddie...right?” She was someone Eddie had seen in some of his classes, but he never knew her name. 

“Y-Yes??” He tried to catch his breath and compose himself, but ultimately failed. 

“You’re looking for Beverly, right? Someone texted me saying there was a crazed child running around asking for her.” 

Eddie nodded enthusiastically. “Yes please, do you know where she is!” 

She pointed towards the back of the house. “She’s outside by the pool! I was just with her.” 

Eddie hugged the girl without really thinking about it. “Thank you!” 

He ran out the back door towards the pool. 

“BEVERLYYYYYY!!!!!!!” 

She whipped her head around at breakneck speed. “Eddie!!” She smiled wide and stood up ready to hug him. The rest of the losers watched as Eddie grabbed her hand and pulled her back towards the house. 

Beverly was tripping over her own feet trying to process all the sudden events happening to her at once. 

“Jesus Christ Eddie!!!” There were a couple times she couldn’t keep up with his speed, so she would trip a little and almost fall. “What’s going on!? Where are you taking me!?” 

“Richie!” 

Beverly could tell something was wrong so she didn’t question anymore.

------

It seemed like he had lost time because the next thing he felt was Beverly’s arms wrapping around him and hugging him close. 

“Rich omg what’s wrong? Are you alright?” She ran her hand over his head and rubbed his back as he cried onto her shoulder. He was shaking intensely and choking out sobs. 

She shushed him and held him close. 

“Eddie, what happened?” 

Eddie shrugged. “I-I don’t know! He just, like, freaked the hell out and fell to the ground. I think-I think he’s having a panic attack or something.” He kneeled down and rubbed Richie’s back. 

“Well yeah, obviously he had a panic attack, Eddie!” 

Soon enough Richie calmed down enough to gather himself. 

“Thanks, Bev.” He hugged her again and sighed. “That was a lot...”

“Yeah, now what the fuck happened to you? People just don’t randomly have panic attacks...”

A blush spread across his face as he tried to think of how to form a cohesive sentence. “Well...uh. You see. Me and-- Me and Eddie... Well uh--”

Eddie laughed and rolled his eyes. “We’re, well me and Richie are, uh, dating. We’re dating.”

Bev stared at them blankly. Richie could feel his face heating up and his throat closing. She suddenly burst out laughing, bending over and holding her stomach. “Y’all think this was a surprise!?”

Richie and Eddie looked at each other confused and lost. 

“W-What?” 

“Not gonna lie, you guys are horrible at keeping secrets. We all guessed it, but we didn’t want to like assume and make you guys uncomfortable.” 

Richie and Eddie comically looked at each other with a blank expression, then at Beverly. They broke out laughing hysterically. 

“Here I was freaking out about what y’all would say and shit! And y’all already knew!” Richie laughed and slapped Eddie on the back. 

“Ow! Dickhead...” Eddie punched him back in the arm. 

“Well let’s go find these other eggheads and introduce ourselves.” Richie grabbed Eddie and Beverly’s hands and made his way toward the house. 

----------------

“EY Y’ALL SLOPPY BITCHES!!! THE KINGS HAVE ARRIVED!!” 

All the Losers turned their heads towards the loud and obnoxious voice they’ve all come to love. 

“Richie!!” 

“No! The name’s Bert. And this is my lovely husband, Ernie.”

Eddie frown and kicked at Richie’s leg. “Hey guys!”

“Wait, you two dressed up as Bert and Ernie? You know they’re a gay couple right?” Bill laughed a bit in confusion. 

Mike already understood what was going on and laughed placing his forehead in his palm. “Oh Bill...if only you weren't so naive.”

Richie blushed hard as he grabbed Eddie’s hand. “Well, why else would we be dressed up as them?” 

The Losers all gasped in surprise, they all stood and ran other to them. They all embraced and congratulated the two. 

“Now that I am here, can we all go get drunk off our asses and vomit out our intestines!?” 

All at once they yelled out “Yes!!”

The rest of the night was chaotic in the best way possible. Although Eddie had originally said not to, they ended up crashing the party anyway, and by they, it was actually Eddie, who had climbed on top of the kitchen counter, drunk off his ass, and kicked over the punch bowl. It shattered on the floor, red punch spiked with vodka was everywhere, including the gummy eyeballs put in there for a spooky effect. All seven were chased out into the night by the party host. Eddie flipped them off and had to be carried away by Ben.

#reddie #halloween event 2019 #gazebo-reddie

[yespolkadotkitty]

Rendezvous

So this smutty little one shot is for @fyrecrafted , who asked:

How about reader has been dating Tom and he suddenly gets the need to have a rendezvous in an alley :3

Hope you love it!

“Come on. Let’s dance.”

You looked up from your after-dinner latte to see Tom standing before you, hand out in invitation, his cheeky smile showing just a hint of shyness. Rose-gold street-lights lit the Venetian piazza, casting an air of shadows and romance over the entire area, cloaking it in mystery.

The two of you had spent a dreamy day together, exploring the picturesque Island of Sant Erasmo. The biggest island in the lagoon, Sant Erasmo was famed for its delicious local produce and its wine. After meeting the local farmers and hearing about their lives and crops, you had enjoyed a private vineyard tour and wine tasting. It had been such a leisurely, beautiful day. You had tamped down your annoyance when dinner time came. You'd wanted your day with Tom to last forever.

Helplessly, you suddenly felt your time together slipping through your hands, like sand through an hourglass.

Too fast.

The anxiety of it all had churned in your stomach all through dinner – a delicious seafood risotto with a side of freshly baked herbed breadtsicks.

“Why?”

“Because we can. Everyone else is,” he insisted, a grin tugging at his lips. It occurred to you that you had seldom seen him so carefree. “I love to dance, you know,” he added, almost shyly.

You shifted, trying to fight the battle between your wish to dance and your intense discomfort at doing anything like dancing in public.

Finally the boyish look on Tom’s handsome face won you over and you took his hand. His fingers closed around yours; warm, reassuring. He pulled you towards him, spun you around for a second. Giddy, you leaned into him as the string quartet outside the café started to play a gentle waltz. You breathed in the now-familliar scent of him, bergamot and the tang of coffee and just a kiss of citrus.

“This is absurd.” But you rested your free hand on his shoulder just the same, and let him lead you . Heat radiated off his body through the white linen shirt he wore, and you looked down at your feet. “When was the first time you waltzed?”

“Getting ready for Cranford.”

You looked up into his eyes. They looked almost blue-black in the half-light as he met your gaze. You thought of the second time he’d waltzed on screen, in Crimson Peak. He and Mia had practically set the cinema screen on fire with their antics, in and out of bed.

“I sometimes – and it’s ridiculous – forget that you’re so…. Famous,” you breathed as he swayed you gently, confidently.

“Good.” His gaze dropped to your mouth, and that gorgeous tumble of copper-gold hair fell into his face, a little long, a little messy. The way you liked it. “That’s what I wanted.”

The expression on his face – so naked suddenly, not a trace of artifice – made you bold suddenly. Or perhaps it was the alcohol. But you were in Venice with a man who made your heart sing. You were dancing a waltz in a piazza. Rose-gold light lit everything, and just for now, you would be brave. You would believe in magic, and you would believe in happy endings.

And you wouldn’t think further than this man in your arms. He was solid and real and right now, he was yours.

Tears burned your eyes as your heart constricted. Yes, you would be brave.

And you would pay whatever cost would be levied later.

“Is that all you want?” You tucked his tumbled hair back behind his ear. It felt so soft. An unwruly curl sprang forward.

You’d surprised him. You knew because he held still for a long moment before continuing with the waltz. Someone else might not to have noticed the slip, but you did. In some ways, you had never stopped noticing everything about him, ever since the day you’d met.

“Oh, darling. You know what I want.” His words were so soft, they were nearly carried away by the notes form the nearby violins. But still you caught them. “You.” He swallowed and you watched the movement of his throat, transfixed for a second. “Any way I can get you. Any way you’ll have me.”

His hand on your waist tightened, pulling you a fraction closer. You pressed your face into his neck, knowing you had reached a tipping point. 

He wanted to make love to you. 

“Tonight?” Your words came out squeakier than you’d hoped. You wondered if he’d laugh.

He didn’t.

“Tonight,” he confirmed.

You’d been seeing each other a while. Your schedule as a costume designer and his as an actor meant weekends meeting in random cities were a given, but this was easily the most romantic place you’d rendezvoused. Tom’s suggestion. 

You’d lay together all night, but you’d held back on giving yourself to him fully. What if it didn’t work out. What if you had to dress him one day, knowing he was married to another woman. What if-

You stopped dancing, and he mirrored you . You both held still for a long moment. You closed your eyes, knowing that your decision was about to change everything between you two. Maybe forever.

Breathing in, you opened your eyes again. Tom stood before you still, so solid and real. And yours, for now anyway.

And you would take the now, for as long as it lasted. “Tom.”

“Hmm.” He brushed his lips over yours, gently, a simple kiss without pressure, but a question all the same. He tasted of chocolate.

“Take me back to the hotel. Right now.” Before you could lose your nerve.

* * * * *

The rosy streetlights of Venice winked at you both as Tom navigated the maze of little streets. People gathered here and there, but the late hour meant it was mostly quiet. You could smell the lagoon, the heady scent of wine, the richness of chocolate and cream.

Tom stopped in a quiet alley to get his bearings. Behind him, the moon shone down on you both, bright and silent, hanging like a lightbulb in the black fabric of the night sky.

You slipped your arms around him as he pulled his phone from his pocket, bringing up Google maps. “Hmmmm. I swear it was just the next street along….”

The alley was silent and dark. And really quite nice, as alleys went. Closed shop windows were lined with flower boxes. And Tom smelled of dark chocolate and bergamot, and it was your favourite scent. You felt…  brave. Bold. Aroused.

“What if we didn’t wait until we found the hotel? “ you asked.

His gaze shot to yours, his poet’s mouth opening slightly in surprise. “Darling-”

All the pent up desire you’d felt for this man in the months you’d been seeing each other crashed out of you like a dam bursting. You grabbed the lapels of his button-down shirt - Tom in a linen shirt with no tie, and the sleeves rolled to his elbows just about killed you - and pressed your mouth to his.

Dimly, you heard the thud as his phone fell to the street floor, unnoticed. He slid his hands around your waist and pressed you to him, and you thrilled to the evidence of his need for you pressing urgently against your stomach. “Tom,” you murmured, aching already.

“Are you sure?” he bit off against your mouth, and you thought he sounded like a man on the edge of control. “Be sure.”

He pulled back and gazed into your eyes, and you saw something just a tiny bit feral there. It made the pulsing need inside you kick up several notches.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With a low growl in his throat, Tom scooped you up. You scissored your legs around his waist as he ravaged your mouth, the day’s growth of whiskers on his cheeks scraping at you pleasantly. He moved his attention down to your neck and you arched to improve his access. 

Tom moaned your name as you squeezed a hand between your body to cup him through his jeans.

“Want you,” you murmured. 

With difficulty, Tom leaned you against the brick wall, keeping you held up with one arm whilst he undid the fly of his jeans with the other. You tugged his shirt tails out of the denim, covering him a little, and then you let yourself play.

He fell into your hand, hot and heavy and large, and you savoured the shuddering breath he let out when you palmed him, stroking until you found a rhythm that made him chant your name like a prayer. He boosted you up higher and you used your free hand to pop open the buttons of your shirt dress so he could lavish attention on your breasts. Your nipples peaked to the slight breeze of the Venetian night. His tongue was warm and wet and his touch there sent a direct spiral down between your legs.

“Now,” you whispered urgently. You kept one arm around his neck, anchoring yourself as he reached down and toyed with you, working your thin cotton panties aside to feel how wet you were. You knew what he’d find and your heart raced as he groaned against your neck.

A hot rush of pleasure filled you as he circled the tight bud at the apex of your body. And the orgasm made you gasp out loud, but you were beyond caring if you were discovered.

Tom brushed a kiss over your mouth before he slid slowly, painfully slowly, inside you. You tilted your hips up just a little, and he pushed in to the hilt.

“Fuck,” he breathed, and the expletive in that cut-glass British accent just destroyed you.

Then he started to move, bottoming out each time he thrust back in, and all coherent thought flew out of your head.

It was over quickly, both of you too aroused to last long. Your muscles convulsed around him and you bit down on the curve where his neck met his shoulder to keep from crying out. Moments later, Tom followed you over the cliff, groaning into your hair.

You wound down slowly together, floating back to Earth. Tom gently set you back on the ground, frowning.

“That’s wasn’t my intention for our first time, darling.”

You grinned, leaning up to kiss him, your body still trembling from the tiny aftershocks of really good sex. “No, but now we can enjoy round two at our leisure in the hotel.”

His delighted laugh echoed into the balmy Venetian night, and you held hands and walked the rest of the way back together.

If you would like something like this written for you, asks are open! Come on in and say hi.

Permanent taglist: @amarisyousei @hopelessromanticspoonie @myoxisbroken @nonsensicalobsessions @arch-venus25 @vodka-and-some-sass

#writing challenge #imagine tom hiddleston #british actor rpf

[bensboynton]

Soulmate r.t

was this requested? no. did i plan this out? no. does it have a plot? barely. here’s three thousand words of whipped roger and angst. enjoy. 

paring: fem!reader x 70s!roger taylor

warnings: swearing, ANGST, death, roger being Whipped, unedited(sorry for errors)

word count: 3.4k

Roger never thought that he was worthy of true love.

Whether or not that was some fucked up inner dialogue or not, Roger never gave much thought to the idea of finding his “person.” It’s not that he didn’t want love, it was just never too high on his mental to-do list.

He was the person to scoff at cheesy romance movies and roll his eyes at the sight of a couple in public. And he was the one to ask girls to leave his flat right after they finished having sex.

After a lot of in-depth personal psychoanalysis, Roger managed to narrow down his biggest flaw and what caused it; he was scared.

Every human on planet earth is scared, of course. But Roger Taylor was terrified. One day he was 16, making out with a girl at a football game and next thing he knows he’s 26 and still having one night stands like they were going out of style.

True love had never really crossed his mind until his best friend’s wedding.

John Deacon got married, and he was forced to sit at a ceremony and watch two people who were sickeningly in love dance and gaze into each other’s eyes. It made him sick.

But then, on the train ride back home, he got to thinking. What if that was never him? What if he never found someone like John did? What if he never got to drop his act and never got to be soft and grossly in love at his own wedding?

He shook the idea off and continued with his life. He didn’t need to be in love. Especially after all of his relationships in the past ending so violently his heart felt like it was broken in his chest.

And that’s what he convinced himself. He made himself believe that he was fine living alone, that he would be perfectly okay with growing old and dying alone while all of his best friends had wives, kids, and a large family to come home to every day.

He forced himself to be okay with it.

Until he woke up one day with the painstaking thought that he would grow old alone, experience life alone, and one day die alone and have to be buried in the singles section of the cemetery; the section where all the lonely old people who have no one to be buried next to go.

He wasn’t exactly sure what to do at that point.

So, he reacted to his sorrowful revelation by drowning his sorrows in liquor. Like he normally did.

Roger hated thinking. He hated his brain, the way it worked, what he thought about. Sometimes he’d want to hit his head against a wall to stop the thoughts from swimming around in his skull until he couldn’t breathe.

The thoughts would stop if he drank enough tequila, so instead of spending a night in, alone with his fucked up brain, he went out again.

The bar Roger normally went to was cozy. It was built in the 1800s or something (Roger wasn’t paying attention to the bartender when he told the story) and the wood that made up the walls was old. It was slightly cracked and had newspapers and magazine covers that detailed the bar’s history littering the walls in rusty picture frames.

All the old antique lamps and extravagantly gothic light fixtures were fitted with yellow lightbulbs; so yellow he would close his eyes after leaving and see the warmth from them in his eyelids.

The hardwood floor was dull and scratched, showing the age of the building more than anything else. And every night he went for a drink, at least one wooden stool would snap in half under the weight of a drunk British man.

The bar had become his home.

The bartender that worked every night was short; so short that it was the first thing Roger noticed about him. He looked as if he could be a 16-year-old in a 30-year-old’s body. It could make Roger giggle if he was drunk enough.

The man’s name was Mitch… or Michael. He couldn’t remember. All he knew was that the short guy at the bar (maybe his name was Matthew?) knew Roger’s drink order by heart.

Roger wouldn’t even get two steps in the door before his beer was popped open on the counter in front of his usual seat.

The bar was mildly busy. Not uncomfortably packed, just enough for it to be a good time.

Roger had picked up countless girls at this bar, and not just average girls. Some of the most beautiful he had ever seen. He considered the place good luck.

But he clumsily stumbled into the bar again, with absolutely 0 intention of taking anyone home that night. He just needed a break.

He sat down at his seat, frowning at the lack of a beer sitting in front of him. He was tired, mentally and physically, and laid his head in his hands. After a few moments, he decided he would need something stronger than a beer.

“What can I get you?” a soft, but raspy voice inquired. Roger didn’t even have the energy to look up at them.

“Whiskey on the rocks,” Roger mumbled into his hands. He heard a small hum from whoever was behind the bar (it definitely wasn’t Mitch) as they walked away to get his drink.

He heard the tap of the glass hitting the bar, causing him to pry his hands away from his face and frantically swallow some of the liquid.

“Rough day?” the worker asked again, causing him to finally look at the bartender.

He choked on the liquor running through his throat as his eyes raked up and down the woman standing in front of him.

She had beautiful hair pulled back into a messy bun, but it somehow still looked so incredibly put together. Her eyes managed to be brilliant and oddly blinding in the dimly lit warmth of the pub, and her uniform hugged her body in all the right ways.

He was about to ask her to marry him.

“You could say that,” he managed to say, suddenly very aware of her gaze on him. She had been intrigued by his slightly wavy hair and his very blue eyes. They were tired, but he managed to pull it off.

And thus began the beginning of a relationship.

She finished her shift at 11 and decided to stay and talk with Roger for a little. She sat down next to Roger in this little pub in the south of London and talked to him for four hours.

She was mysterious. And her smile glowed. She had positivity and optimism practically dripping from every single pore in her body. And she opened herself up completely to Roger.

That’s what intrigued him most. The fact that she didn’t have walls. She was completely authentic; an open book to anyone that wanted to know anything about her.

She was timelessly beautiful. Not a drop-dead gorgeous model, but truly beautiful. She possessed the type of beauty that could be captured in a polaroid, and admired decades after it had been taken. There was no other word to describe her other than perfect.

Roger wanted her so bad. And not under him in his bed. He wanted just about everything else she had to offer. And that scared his already terrified soul even more. How could he want someone he just met?

She was captivating. Spoke with such purpose, yet her tongue softened her consonants enough to fool you into believing she was calm and reserved. But she was a spitfire, especially with a little alcohol in her system.

She was passionate but respectful. Wild, but calm. Captivating, but also elusive. She was like a drug and Roger already couldn’t get enough.

She didn’t seem to understand her beauty. Roger felt the need to remind her as the night grew older and the moon got tried of moping lazily in the pitch black sky. After the sun flipped the world on its head and brightened up the atmosphere, Roger realized he needed to go home.

And he didn’t get her number.

He walked away from the pub that night cursing himself into oblivion for letting someone like that, someone like her get away just like that.

So he went back to the bar the next night. And the night after that. Until she was finally working, and he got to talk to her again.

When he had walked in and seen her tiny but powerful figure behind the bar, he felt butterflies erupt in the pits of his intestines. His shoes felt like they were lifting him off the ground. This was so unlike Roger.

Being nervous to talk to a girl was one thing, but being this excited about it was another. She had caught his eye from across the room, beaming at him with an Earth-shattering smile that made his knees weak.

He finally got her number.

And now here he was, at the same bar two and a half years later. Except she wasn’t there with him.

After Roger had invited her over for dinner, they kissed. And they moved slow. They didn’t have sex for a month (which felt like a decade for Roger) but for her, he would wait. He would’ve waited an eternity for her.

She infatuated him in every single way. Her laugh, the way her eyes twinkled every time she looked at the sky. Roger wanted nothing more than to soak himself in all that she was and lose himself in her essence.

Roger asked her to move in with him six months later. She said yes. He could’ve cried when she agreed.

He was more conscious of himself and the way he moved/spoke/ate/laughed. But he had never felt more of himself. She brought out the very best in him, and he fell sickeningly in love with her sickeningly fast.

He had said “I love you” for the first time in the middle of her talking about her night was at the bar. He blurted it out after spending the past five minuted admiring the hair she was twisting around her index finger, and how she paused to lick her lips every few minutes.

She had stopped abruptly before thoughtfully gazing at him from across the dining table in Roger’s modest sized flat, before saying “I love you too.”

She had pushed the plastic plates off the table and jumped on top of it, climbing across to Roger and plopping herself in his lap. God, he was so in love with her.

He reminded her every single day that she was the most perfect, amazing, beautiful person he had ever met. And he reveled in her presence.

It was remarkable how much Roger had changed over a span of seven months. From having sex with three girls in the same night on Saturday’s to staying in all weekend watching really cheesy movies. It was insane.

Roger’s friends would tease him, and before, Roger would’ve gotten embarrassed. Before her. But he was almost proud of it now. He almost wanted to scream from the rooftops about how much he fucking loved her.

But this passionate love was not one-sided. She felt the exact same way.

She would gush to her lady-friends about Roger, about his eyes and his smile and the way he scrunched up his face if you tapped the tip of his nose. They noticed how smitten she was, as well.

Both groups of friends belonging to either side of the couple were in love with how much they loved each other.

The romance and admiration never once faltered. Never once did Roger wake up and think that the day was mediocre. He woke up next to his soulmate and felt it was the best day of his life. Just because she was in it.

And never once did the girl look at Roger and not feel her heart flutter so rapidly she thought it would fly up her throat and escape through her mouth.

They quite literally had it all.

A decent apartment, enough money to live comfortably, both of them were happy with what they were doing, and they most importantly had each other.

They started living life together, as couples do. And Roger had finally gotten comfortable and relaxed. He loved her so much and she loved him just as much back. He finally opened up and let his hardened edges soften. He was vulnerable.

After all, it’s quite literally impossible to not soften a little when Roger met his girl. His love. His darling (pet names were never his thing… until he met her).

She brought so much light into his life, you could call her the sun. She was the sunrise, the sunset, the blooming of the fruit trees in the spring, and the first fluff layer of snow in the winter. She was everything.

The bitter coffee that Roger would choke down every morning suddenly became sweeter when he was with her. The air outside seemed to smell better. Those pastries from the bakery around the corner from Roger’s flat suddenly tasted so much better than he remembered.

She heightened every single one of his senses. Everything that was mundane and boring before suddenly became one of the most interesting and important tasks with her. She made everything interesting. She made Roger’s life worth living.

And then Roger went on his first tour with his bandmates.

And if you talked to Roger today, he would say it was the biggest mistake of his life. And for good reason.

Roger having to part from his soulmate was more than rough. There were more than enough tears that were shed that day at the airport. The girl had gone home and gotten familiar with the comfortable embrace of silence.

And she was okay with it. Because she promised Roger she would be waiting when he got back. And she never broke a single promise to Roger in their entire two and a half years they had been dating.

Except for this one.

Roger had called the phone in their house for their daily chat, and it was the last day of the tour. He was so excited to see her smile and hear her laugh in person again, to get his hands on her after having no one to satisfy him for months.

But there was no answer.

Roger’s smile had faltered, but he has thought nothing of it. He had created an imaginary world in his mind where she was just trying to ignore him so she could surprise the shit out him when he got home.

He walked up to the house, his heart bursting at the seams with excitement as he clumsily opened the lock, shoving himself into the house and stumbling over his bags. He threw them to the ground and ran into the living room, waiting to see his sitting on the couch.

She wasn’t there.

He checked the kitchen, the backyard, the laundry room, and finally made his way to the bedroom. He pushed open the door and his entire world came crashing down in an instant.

Her lifeless body was sprawled across the carpet, the rosy flush in her cheeks and lips gone. Her hair felt brittle and cold, and her fingers were freezing to the touch.

For the first time in 4 years, Roger began to cry.

After performing CPR and screaming for help, he finally called an ambulance. They came to his house and delivered the news that the love of his life was dead.

He went to bed that night and didn’t move from his mattress for four days.

He finally moved when he got a phone call from the hospital, informing him that she suffered from heart failure. There was nothing anyone could have done to help her.

Roger had hung up the phone and went back to bed. He didn’t shower for another three days.

He couldn’t sleep, because every time he closed his eyes he would see her face dancing across his vision. And he couldn’t blink because she was imprinted on the inside of his eyelids. He couldn’t eat, because the thought of doing anything that she used to do made him sick to his stomach.

Roger quit his band, moved out of his apartment, and barely left his much smaller apartment.

Unless he was going to the bar.

He went every goddamn night as if she was going to be working. As if she was going to be working her shift, and they could start over. As if Roger could reintroduce himself.

He got drunk every night. Constantly in a loop of getting shitfaced, being hungover, and getting shitfaced again before the hangover was even gone. He was in a haze. He was hollow, a ghost, a shell of what he used to be.

The sky suddenly didn’t look as blue anymore. He stopped drinking coffee because it was too bitter for his taste. He stopped eating at new and exotic places around town. He stopped smiling at people on the street.

Roger reverted so far into himself he forgot who he was. Who she taught him to be.

He would go home every night, drunk out of his mind, and scream. Scream her name, scream at God, scream at the universe. Scream at the unfairness of this. Scream at the heavens for taking her instead of him.

He wished it had been him.

He prayed to a God he wasn’t even sure existed that they would let her switch places. Let her live and let him die. Because he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it without her in his life. Without her laugh, and her positive outlook, and her psychotic stories from her high school years.

Roger thought he knew pain. He thought he was familiar with pain in the same way you’re familiar with your parent’s favorite songs. But he didn’t know pain until he lost her.

His heart ached all day every day. Sometimes it was dull but ever present, and other times it was sharp and breathtaking. Roger Taylor was quite literally suffering from a broken heart.

After she was gone, Roger promised never to move on. Even though that’s probably what she would have wanted. He treasured her memory and the many memories they had together. He wrote about them in journals so he wouldn’t forget, and he never dated anyone else.

He never opened himself up again. He had made that mistake. But he had also had his happily ever after. Roger Taylor lived a painfully short infinity with the love of his life, his soulmate. He had his chance at happiness. He would never find someone else that understood him as she did.

He would never be as carefree with anyone else, never feel as alive as he felt with her. She was the wind beneath his wings, the air in his lungs and the pulse in his chest. And she was gone. He was done with looking for that with anyone else. He had his chance. He lived with his soulmate. And she was gone now.

So he lived out the rest of his life in solitude, calmly and nimbly jumping through the twists and turns of life. And when he died, Roger’s casket was placed right next to hers in the ground. After 96 years of living on this planet, and 93.5 of them being without her, he finally realized something.

That he was deserving of love. He was all along. His love was just brief. It fiery red hot. It was so powerful it would make other people look away in envy. He found the true-love he had previously been so desperate to find.

After living a lifetime of trying to find love, finding it, losing it, and trying to find inner peace and acceptance after, Roger Taylor passed away from old age and was buried in a cemetery, but not in the “singles” section as he feared. He was buried next to the love of his life.

So, turns out that she did keep her promise. She had always been waiting for Roger. Except now, she was waiting with wide arms at the gates of heaven. She always kept her promises.

Roger got to live out the rest of eternity with his soulmate. He was finally at peace with himself and one idea.

He was truly 110% deserving of true, authentic, and beautiful love.

#roger taylor #queen #roger taylor x you #rogerina #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor blurb #roger taylor headcanon #queen movie #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody movie #queen band #ben hardy #ben hardy as roger taylor

[starsailorstories]

Positions on an astraea spaceship

I refer all the time to characters with all of these jobs but haven’t really explained what they do. Not every single ship will have all of these. On a really large or specialized ship most of these people will have a group that works directly under them.

The captain - in terms of actual daily activities is mainly the liaison between the ship and her commissioning body (the business/individual/institution that paid for the voyage) and her destination, as well as between the leaders of different parts of the crew. It’s actually more important for her to be a good listener, a clear communicator, and a good logistical strategist than it is for her to know a lot about the craft of flying a spaceship, although if you say that to any experienced captain who hasn’t skated through her career on other people’s bail she’ll probably laugh and go “yeah, sure, until something goes wrong.”

This degree of specialization, though, is indicated by the fact that as in the American and British navies “captain” and “master [mariner]” are two separate titles, the former of which is given to anybody in command of a voyage and the latter of which indicates some high rank or other within the voyage’s commissioning institution. In the case of, again, particularly big or complicated undertakings, the captain and master (the altamaian word is magisteria, I...translate it as master because I want to maintain the connection to the nautical term and because as doctor who well taught us “mistress” IS the proper gender swap but man does it ever have Connotations) may be two different people, and in the case of short or relatively unimportant voyages staffed by low-ranking personnel, the captain may just be a captain.

A note here: Most of my spaceship stuff is based on 18th century British naval stuff, but the thing they had of ‘master’ and ‘navigator’ being basically synonymous is different for technological reasons. Navigators do have to have specialized knowledge but not really a whole career’s worth, and they’re communicating the nitty gritty of it mainly to the pilot.

ANYWAYS, other warrant officers:

The boatswain - is in charge of basically everything going on not on the bridge or in the engine room. Boss of everybody who works on the sail deck and/or propulsion system and in charge of coordinating the timing element of FTL travel between the engineer, pilot, and deck crew, as well as the lighthouse operators. In the intergalactic age this is mostly done using radio, but they used to use these huge drums to signal with which are still kind of a symbol of the profession.

The pilot - combines the role of a helmsman and quartermaster i.e. working the instruments that maintain the ship’s direction, which in this case means the mass system (controlled by what honest to god looks like a sailing ship’s wheel poking half-out of a control panel) and the various rockets. The pilot also has to throw the final switch to fire the engines, although she depends on other departments to get them ready to go. Relatedly it’s the pilot’s job to coordinate with the navigator (who is acting on orders from the captain), engineer, boatswain/deckhands, and, if it’s a combat situation, the gunner, to determine what direction the ship needs to be going and to get her going there.

The medical officer - identical to what it is Star Trek.

The engineer - as the name would imply, mainly concerned with the ship’s engines and all the other mechanics of her powered flight. Also kind of fills the role of a ship’s carpenter i.e. has to make sure the ship herself as a device is adequately maintained and repaired. Powered space travel, much less FTL space travel, is relatively new, and it takes a lot of on-the-fly tweaking to prevent stuff like stress on the casings, overheating, etc.

The gunner - oversees all of a ship’s weapons’ systems. Often a much more managerial position than it sounds like, and accomplished naval military leaders are preferred, although below a certain size of ship/level of mission importance this is one ex-gangster in a turret with a single plasma cannon that she uses to write “fuck off” in loopy cursive on the hull of enemy vessels. Or maybe I’m just extrapolating that from the Revelator’s situation.

The purser - no difference here really from the actual age of sail counterpart; this is someone who goes along on the voyage to handle all the financial concerns, particularly the issue of necessary supplies to the employees. Sometimes for astraeas this is just handled by admiralty/shipping company representatives at the ports (since ‘necessary supplies’ for them just means like, equipment, medical stuff, etc) or by the captain. She also keeps detailed reports of everybody’s job performance so that (as per the Andromedan economic system) the boss can decide who gets what pick of her favors (which generally include housing etc). Certainly the most murderable of all officers, but also will be zealously protected if she ever dares to prioritize the needs of the sailors over the company budget.

Petty/inferior warrant officers:

Officers’ mates - are usually the delicitas of the warrant officers, though they may just be less experienced specialized workers commissioned for the voyage. They’re assistants/seconds in command to the warrant officers. This is also true for first mates etc. with respect to the captain.

The navigator - definitely the most important of petty officers, although, because direct understanding of the grunt work of the ship is fairly required, one of the most likely to be recruited from among lower-class sailors. In charge of reading all the positioning data (calculated by sophisticated mechanical engines back in Lux’s day, computers more recently) and interpreting it and condensing out what the pilot needs to know.

Midshippers - are educated sailors who are in training/gaining the experience to eventually fill other warrant officer roles but don’t have specialized knowledge yet, or else they don’t much care what they do as long as they’re on the career path to be a captain someday. A lot of times the captain will assign them administrative tasks and they’ll report directly to her. (Cepheid was hustled into being a midshipper because it’s the lowest naval rank whose credentials are considered “transferable” back to the other branches of the military.)

Ships’ stewards - are in charge of the ship as a living space. They oversee the staff that keep everything clean, change the lightbulbs, keep the atmosphere recirculation system running. This is actually a really important job in space as there’s simply nowhere else to go so the general habitability of the ship is a matter of life and death. Ships’ stewards also report directly to the captain despite not being involved in the main mission objective. Also: if lux units are working on a ship, the steward will probably be their boss.

Everybody else is just a sailor (or sometimes a rated sailor, which in the current climate is akin to being hired on by whoever commissioned the voyage rather than being a temp) except for:

Cabin maids - who are basically like flight attendants, although they also do cleaning and maintenance. At one point they would be lower-class teenagers Paying Their Dues before being hired on as full-time sailors, but by the time of the story they’re almost always clones.

#sweet chariot

[lolainblue]

Phoenix -- Chapter One

Jared’s POV:

   “Come on, Jared. I don't want to be stuck hanging around this house all weekend.”

   As I watched, Chloe folded her arms over her almost concave abdomen and threw her lips into a ridiculous pout. I sighed. “Jesus, I didn't know you were going to be here all weekend. You going to whine like that the entire time?”

   “You're a real asshole, Jared,” she shot back at me before picking up the magazine she had discarded earlier and flouncing off with a toss of her wavy hair. I heard Shannon chuckling behind me.

   “Where won't you take her now?” he asked.

   I shrugged. “Some goddamn party in the valley at some producer's house I've never heard of. It sounds fucking insufferable.”

   Shannon laughed. “You knew what she was like. You've got no one to blame for this but yourself.”

   Shannon had a point there. I'd gotten involved with the young model more out of convenience than anything. She had been showing up almost everywhere I was for the last year, which, considering the year I had been having, was pretty ridiculously coincidental. No, I knew she was ambitious and saw me as a way to unlock some doors she was having trouble getting through herself. But like I said, it had been a rough year and a little company and distraction seemed like a good idea at the time. Now that we actually had a break in touring I was getting to see a lot more of Chloe than I had ever intended to, but it was either appease her and have some company in my bed until the tour resumed or break it off and hit the market again to fill that empty spot. That would mean a lot of nights of lame pickup lines and small talk, and at this point, frankly, I was too damn tired for that much effort.

   Shannon must have seen my shoulders slump in defeat because before I even turned to go after her he was laughing. “Yeah, that's what I thought,” he chortled out, plopping down on the sofa and propping his feet on the coffee table.

   “Where the hell is this thing again?” I called out as I made my way to the kitchen where Chloe was currently having her little tantrum. I heard her squeal in delight before I even saw her.

   “Thank you, thank you!” she shouted, throwing her arms around my neck. “I knew you'd come around. It's at Garrett Wycoff's place. He's the one that's producing that new drama for HBO everyone's talking about and a lot of people involved in the production are going to be there.”

   I may not have heard of Wycoff but this HBO series was getting a lot of buzz. It was some overblown costume drama based off of a ridiculously successful book series, which was pretty typical for pay cable these days I guess, but this one had quite the following already and still was in pre-production. I knew why she wanted to go. I could have told Chloe that a barely literate model/actress with an acting resume that encompassed a total of about ten spoken words wasn't exactly costume drama material but there was no point. It could have been Beach Party Bimbos and she still wouldn't be getting a role, no matter how many parties she went to or who she tried to ingratiate herself with. She couldn't act her way out of a traffic ticket. But crushers of dreams seldom got laid and she would figure it out on her own soon enough. “All right, I guess we can go. Do you want to grab dinner first?”

   “Uhm... no!” she shot back sarcastically as she raced out of my arms and back to the bedroom to presumably start deciding what to wear. “I have to look good. I can't be all bloated.”

   “It's a party, not a swimsuit shoot,” I called after her but she had already disappeared. Shannon started laughing again. “Yeah?” I asked. “Fine, Chucklehead. Go get changed. We're going out.”

      ****************************************************

   I had to hand it to Chloe, she had a lot of bravado. She swept into that party like it was being thrown in her honor, flitting about and looking fabulous while she worked every face in that room. Mercifully she was too busy networking to pay me much attention at all, only appearing at my elbow momentarily when she needed to shore up her own social standing, then off again in search of some other casting director or agent to schmooze. I recognized a few people and managed to occupy myself with small talk, fielding questions about our upcoming video shoot while I watched Shannon strike out with some British actress I vaguely recognized. There was nothing particularly notable about it, it was like a dozen other get-togethers I'd been to over the years. I think the ordinariness of the situation was why everything caught me so off guard.

   I was talking to Wycoff himself, who was asking a lot of questions about my filming schedule that summer, when he suddenly stopped mid-sentence. “Oh hey, there he is, our Prince Josua. Brought him out from New York where he was doing theater. He's perfect,” he told me as he waved at someone in the crowd. “Harrington! Come over here, I want you to meet someone!”

   I don't believe in fate or destiny. I don't think I'm actually capable of admitting that life might be that far beyond my control. I believe things only happen if you make them happen. But I had no explanation for why, out of the more than six billion people on this planet, I kept bumping into the same ones over and over.

   There was no mistaking the man that turned and headed towards us – tall and lean but broad-shouldered, with steel blue eyes and mop of curls that romance novel writers would probably have described as 'rakish', I'd have recognized Roger anywhere. If anything he looked even better than he had the last time I had seen him, almost four years ago. I smiled and waved optimistically but I saw the way his expression faltered before he pasted his own smile back into place.

   “Hey, Garrett what can I do for you?” he asked, putting his arm around the shorter man's shoulder. Wycoff spluttered a little bit – I think maybe he had a little crush on his new ingenue – before introducing me.

   “We've met, actually,” I supplied, holding out my arms as if to hug him. Roger looked at them and then looked at me before taking my hand and giving it a perfunctory shake.

   “Have we? You'll have to refresh my memory,” he said coolly.

   Wycoff gave a nervous titter before stepping between us, arms around both our waists. “That's fantastic. I'll leave the two of you to catch up in just a moment,” he said, focusing his attention on me. “I just wanted to say that I was amazed at your transformation in Chapter 27, and if you're interested, I think our production schedule will dovetail nicely with your upcoming shooting schedule. I see some amazing things ahead for this series. I can send some things over to your agent if you like.”  He turned to Roger. “Make sure you fill him in,” he instructed before disappearing off into the crowd.

   Roger and I were left staring awkwardly at each other while the party goers circled around us. I swear I could hear a clock ticking in my ears as the uncomfortable silence wore on. Unable to stomach the continued tension I glanced around quickly to make sure we weren't being listened in on. “So, this refreshing your memory.... should we talk about the time I helped nurse you through a breakup, or when we almost all ended up in jail together, or should I just shove you against a wall and stick my tongue down your throat?”

   Roger reddened a bit. “Or we could talk about the time you tricked my best friend into thinking  you gave a shit about her and then just told her to go fuck herself.”

   “What? That's not what happened. I did care about Jane...”

   “Oh, whatever. Look, you're not happy to see me, I'm not happy to see you, you're not going to get involved with this project, so can we just quit this charade?”

   I scratched my head in confusion. I actually was happy to see Roger again. I had been unhappy when he had stopped taking my phone calls but with both of us on opposite side of the war in the great Shannon and Jane debacle I had figured it was just inevitable. I didn't think he'd harbored any real hostility toward me, and I was baffled by his attitude and the statement he had made. “Look, man, I'm not trying to start any trouble. My girlfriend – well, sort of girlfriend – thinks she's an actress and I just agreed to bring her to let her meet some people. I didn't know you were attached to this or that you'd be here.”

   “Yeah, that's not good enough,” he replied as he nervously scanned the room. At first, I thought he was just making sure Wycoff didn't see us arguing but then the lightbulb in my head clicked on.

   “Oh fuck. Jane's here isn't she?”

   “Leave her out of this.”

   “Like that's possible,” I retorted. For better or worse, the four of us were all wound up in each other; there were no separate relationships between us. I searched the room myself, looking for Jane's head of thick blonde curls but instead, I spotted Shannon, still trying to chat up that actress. “Yeah, we have a fucking problem.”

   Roger rolled his eyes at me. “Look, I can't leave, this is essentially work for me. But maybe...”

   I cut him off. “Shannon's here too.” I knew the situation needed no further explaining.

   Roger swore and shook his head before dismissing me, presumably to go and find Jane in order to keep the two of them far apart. I made my way to Shannon, feigning interest in the chit chat he was making with the woman he was trying to pick up … Michelle, her name is Michelle something... while I continued to scan the room and figure out how I was going to get Chloe out of there early without a scene. Only minutes later I spotted her.

   Jane had changed her hair color so that it was redder, a coppery, almost strawberry blonde, but it was definitely her, walking right towards us, no Roger in sight. She was wearing a pale green dress that picked up the color in her eyes and I didn't fail to notice the way the silky fabric shifted with each step,  hinting at what I knew first hand to be a rather spectacular body. I hadn't thought much about her after the first six months or so, there hadn't been any point, so I wasn't prepared for the way my heart sped up or my mouth went dry as I watched her cross the room. For a moment I even forgot the reason I was standing in that particular spot, but then Shannon was asking me a question and I broke free from my reverie just in time to step between them and block his view.

   “Shannon, can I have a word with you? In private?” I asked as I bit my nails and tried to keep him from looking past me.

   Shannon's eyes widened and his gaze shifted from me to Michelle then back to me. “Uhm, right now?”

   “Yes, right now.” Knowing we didn't have much time I grabbed his arm and started to turn him around but he shook himself loose. There was just enough time for him to see over my shoulder and I knew by the way his eyes widened even further and his arms went slack that he had seen her.

   “Jared...”

   “Come on, Shan, let's just get out of here. I'll go find Chloe, you wait in the car.”

   “Jared...”

   Shannon didn't move, didn't even seem to blink. I took a deep breath and turned around to find Jane standing behind me, Roger coming up fast on her heels. We had been so close to avoiding this. One more minute and they would never have seen each other. Hell, if I hadn't given into Chloe and her whining none of us would have to be doing this right now. Thinking with my dick had gotten me into a lot of stupid situations before but this was a new one.

   “Hi, Jane.” Shannon's voice was hoarse and hollow and as soon as he had spoken he upended the glass he had been holding and polished off its contents. I still couldn't tell which way all of this was going to go but I was sure that whatever was about to happen neither Roger nor I needed it to be happening in front of this particular audience.

   “Let's not do this here,” I said, again taking Shannon by the arm. I didn't think I could get him all the way out to the car but I  had noticed an unblocked hallway with some doors and I started steering him to the nearest one.

   “Come on, Jane. I can put you in a taxi and send you home. I can finish this evening out on my own,” Roger offered. I glanced over my shoulder to see him take Jane's arm in much the same way I had taken Shannon's. Her initial response was the same as his, to shake it off.

   Jane started to slowly follow after us, eyes glazed slightly over as if she were sleepwalking. Roger tried to take her arm again and she swatted his hand away. “Stop it,” she hissed. “I know what I'm doing.”

   I reached the door and jiggled the handle. Finding it unlocked I pushed it open and stepped inside to make sure the room was unoccupied before attempting to pull Shannon in with me. The air seemed to be growing thicker by the moment and everything was happening slowly. Shannon stood frozen in the doorway, watching Jane make her hesitant approach while Roger tried to halt her and my brain frantically tried to sort out what was unfolding.  “Shannon,” I hissed him and he seemed to find himself, giving his head a shake before stepping into the small study. Just then Roger caught up with Jane and swept in from behind, ushering her quickly forward into the room and shutting the door behind them.

   “Are you guys living in LA now?” I asked. I didn't know what else to say but if the last few minutes had been any indication I thought we were going to need some ground rules going forward so whatever was happening didn't happen again. No one really seemed to be listening to me, however. “I guess maybe we might want to try to be able to avoid each other in the future...” I ventured.

   “Like I can keep you two out of my head,” Jane said quietly. “You keep turning up like bad pennies. And that fucking song....”

   “Which one?” Shannon asked her. Jane just shook her head, not even meeting his eyes.

   Shannon looked at her for a moment, and I watched his expression go from apprehension to comprehension and then something akin to glee. His eyes crinkled and his lips turned into a cruel smirk. “Well, well, well. Now look who's not over it.”

@thepromiseofanend @msroxyblog@nikkitasevoli@maliciousalishious@llfd1977@mustlove6277@fyeahproudglambert @little-poptart@snewsome756@guccilowell

#jared leto fanfiction #jared leto fic #shannon leto fanfiction #shannon leto fic #30 seconds to mars fanfiction #30stm #TB: Phoenix

[sweetnestor]

12 Days | Chapter 6.2

Two guys that lowkey hate each other are forced to walk in each other’s shoes in order to learn a lesson.

***in collaboration with @themarkiplierexperience

lmao soz its not actually x reader we’re just desperate for attention haaaa

previous

Tom’s eyes bolted open from the sharp movements next to him. He had fallen asleep on his side, facing away from Bella, only to be awoken by her. He turned around and looked at her; She was twitching in her sleep. She hummed and turned, sounding distressed. It was very bizarre.

Hesitating at first, Tom gently shook her shoulder. It didn't wake her up, but it did stop her twitching. He sighed in relief and turned back around, curling up under the sheets. However, his drooping eyes opened again at the feeling of an arm going around his waist.

“You're sleeping weird,” mumbled the soft, sleepy voice.

The hell does that mean? Whatever, Tom assumed the position anyway. He turned so he was facing Bella and he wrapped his arms around her. She nuzzled into his chest and relaxed into him, like sleeping with the love of her life was all she needed to recover from that dream she was having.

Was it bad that he kind of wished her was holding her as himself? Not that he had suddenly developed feelings for Bella after knowing her for 2 days; It wasn’t really her that was the issue. When was the last time any girl wanted to sleep in Tom’s arms? When was the last time he was innocently in bed with a girl? Those late nights with Zendaya hardly ended up like this, and that was usually his fault. Usually they were in his car or her’s as well, so there was no room for cuddling.

Not only that, Tom was just reluctant to have any physical contact that wasn't sexual. He wasn't sure why. Zendaya was honestly perfect. She had never done anything wrong in any aspect. She complied with his stupid “rules” despite that it wasn't what she wanted. Now, Tom was feeling guilty for it. Maybe he was just afraid of the public backlash. Maybe he wanted to save at least one thing from being put under the public microscope and just went about it the wrong way. Maybe when he was back in his own body, Tom could try to fix things with her. In the meantime, he had to date this pink haired girl who twitched and groaned in her sleep like she was possessed. Maybe he could learn from this relationship.

A lightbulb went off in Tom’s head. Was this the reason for the switch? Did he have to properly learn about a healthy relationship? He tried to imagine what Sonji the psychic would say about that. She would probably be super vague and hit him with a dab. Or she would actually hit him with a pack of tarot cards.

Eventually, Tom fell asleep and dreamt about switching back with Ethan. It went horribly wrong, and their faces morphed into something straight out of a horror movie. Melty skin, multiple limbs, voices crying out for death. He could hear Sonji laughing obnoxiously in the background. It was a weird dream.

He was pleased to find that he awoke naturally. No obnoxious alarms. Olivia wasn’t here to rapidly knock on his door and yell at him to get up. Harrison wasn’t here to literally pull him out of bed. There wasn’t a demanding schedule to follow. Tom shifted in the sheets and stretched his arms above his head, feeling strangely relaxed. That is, until he remembered where he was, and what exactly he had to do today.

Bella was nowhere to be seen. Tom immediately sat up, looking around the room. He heard voices coming from the living room, which only prompted him to grab his phone and check in with Ethan. For once, he wasn't left in the dark, and was pleased to find a string of messages. The first five were sent the night before.

“Got yelled at by Olivia but it seems like the schedule wasn’t completely fucked so that’s good I guess.”

“Harrison somehow knew about Zendaya already so I just kinda rolled with it”

“I might have made things worse for you with zendaya but I got her off my back for the time being. She’s all yours when we switch back.”

“Also yes i am aware that my gf is the best gn dude.”

“Don’t forget to try to edit some stuff tomorrow we’re not all made of money like you 🙃”

Tom sighed in relief, despite that that last passive aggressive text caused a wave of anxiety to surge in his stomach. Today, he was a YouTuber. Judging by what he had observed from the three other YouTubers he's been spending time with, it involved a lot of things he knew nothing about. As long as he kept a confident and positive mindset, this should be a breeze. Tom kept reading.  There were two more messages, sent earlier that morning. The words Tom read made his stomach knot up.

“Why are all your friends so much cooler than you?” it read. “Let Everyone™ try the suit one,.  direcotr didn’t seem to mind tho.”

“Oh man,” Tom whispered to himself. The mental image of tall and lanky Harrison trying on the Spidey suit did give him a right laugh, but also a small wave of anxiety. Had the executives not taken back the costume? And Tom wasn’t there to witness it?

Shaking it off, he replied to Ethan.

“Worked things out with Bella, should be fine until we switch back,” he wrote. “Thanks for talking to Daya. Oh, and Harrison knows everything that goes on with me. Have fun with that!”

Suddenly, the bedroom door opened. Tom jumped, nearly losing grasp of his phone. His heart racing, he looked over at Bella, who was mildly startled by Tom’s sudden move. Her eyes scanned over his body, the way he looked like a deer in headlights, the way he was clutching his phone like a lifeline.

“Morning, love,” Tom greeted, his voice embarrassingly higher than normal.

“Morning… didn't mean to spook you,” Bella replied with a nervous chuckle. “How long have you been up?”

“Uh, I've only just woken up.” He climbed out of bed and scanned the ground for his jeans. “Have you seen my trous- uh, pants?”

Bella gave him a look, but she went over to the bureau and opened up a drawer, pulling out a fresh pair of black jeans. She threw them over to Tom wordlessly. “Don't be an outfit repeater, chulo. Get ready, we're gonna go have lunch and then we're gonna take Jack and Signe to the airport.”

“Oh, they're leaving today?” Tom asked.

“I know, I wish they could stay longer. I miss having Jack as a roommate. The apartment feels so quiet and empty since he moved out.” She sighed as she left the room.

Tom raised an eyebrow at that statement. After putting his pants on, he shot another text to Ethan.

“So what's the deal with Bella and that Sean guy? Is he someone I need to keep an eye on?”

~

It was one miracle to survive a night with three strangers in an unknown apartment. It was another miracle that Tom survived lunch in a public restaurant with these three strangers. At the last moment, however, he remembered Ethan's nut allergy and made sure to stay away from anything that involved peanuts. Part of him feared he would forget about that particular detail and accidentally kill himself. Or, Ethan's body. Could he, Tom, die in this body?

Best not to think about it.

Anyway, he made it through midday. Later on, Bella was leading the way to the airport. Tom offered to drive, so as to seem like a decent boyfriend, but it only made Bella and Jack laugh. At least Tom wasn't the only one left in the dark about that; Signe seemed just as mildly confused as well.

The car pulled up to the front of one of the entrances. At least LAX was something Tom was familiar with. To think Ethan was here earlier… Thinking about him made Tom check his phone again. Nothing yet.

The four got out of the car. Sean and Signe retrieved their luggage from the trunk before saying their goodbyes. It was weird. They kept looking at Tom like they truly knew him, like he was actually their friend. But he's not Ethan Nestor. You've got the wrong guy, sorry.

“Thanks for everything, Baller,” Sean said as he hugged the pink haired girl. Again, Tom couldn't help but feel suspicious of their actions, despite that Bella hugged Signe next.

“You know you guys are welcome at any time,” Bella said. “Whether it's for uni, or whenever you guys feel like, I'll always have that extra room for you!”

“Ethan!” Sean exclaimed as he opened his arms. “My little stinky boy!”

Tom returned the gesture and hugged him. “It was good seeing you again, mate. Have a safe flight.”

“Alright, mate,” he replied in a mock British accent.

“My turn!” Signe piped up as she came in between the two boys. “Bye, Ethan!” She stood on her toes to hug him around his shoulders.

After that, the couple ventured into the building, their luggage in tow. Bella and Tom watched them as they leaned against the side of the car. Bella lied her head on his shoulder for a moment.

"Ya los extraño,” she sighed.

“Yeah,” Tom replied even though he had no idea what she said. Then, he changed the subject. “Hey, can you take me home? I gotta start editing.”

Her hand went into his, squeezing tightly. She didn't say anything at first, which was a little off putting. But she agreed, let go of his hand, and went to the driver's side. Before starting the car, she turned to him.

“You don't wanna see Helena?” she asked, a concerned look on her face. “After what happened the other day, and after what you told me yesterday?”

Who the everloving fuck is Helena?

“No, I'm fine,” Tom said as he checked his phone yet again. “It's fine.”

“You sure? I have an appointment with her, but you can take it if you really need to,” Bella gently pressed.

He shook his head. “Really, I'm good. I just really need to work on some videos.”

She watched him for a second, but then turned the engine over. “Well, you are starting to sound like yourself again.”

Thank god.

Traveling twenty miles took a lot longer than it should have, given the amount of traffic. Bella handled it like a pro, not getting irritated or annoyed at the other drivers, whereas Tom wanted to take control and navigate the whole ride out of sheer irritation. He knew better now, though. Apparently, Ethan wasn't allowed to drive.

Tom enjoyed Bella’s singing too, even if she was singing depressing songs. He stared out the window and listened to the pretty voice, reflecting on his life and his choices, missing Zendaya, missing his own fans. Missing people he hadn't thought about in ages…

And then an upbeat song started playing, sending Tom back to reality. He looked down at his phone again and unlocked it. Curious, he opened up the Twitter app. The feed wasn't anything special; Just stuff about gaming, various celebrities, and other YouTubers. Then, feeling a little bold, he decided to type out a new tweet.

“Had to say goodbye to Sean and Signe. So good spending time with those smelly boys again. I miss em’ already”

Replies started coming in almost immediately. It was much like Tom’s own feed. He didn’t realize Ethan had fans of his own. He chuckled in disbelief, which caught his girlfriend's attention.

“What is it?” she asked.

Shit. Tom scrolled and tapped a random tweet, quickly skimming it.

“I put an apostrophe in the wrong place and everyone's attacking me,” he told her as he replied to another person.

“That's the Internet for you,” Bella said in response.

After a few more minutes, she finally pulled up in front of Ethan's apartment building. Tom took off his seat belt and grabbed the door handle before Bella put her hand on his shoulder.

“Are you sure you don't wanna see Helena?” she asked him seriously.

“Positive,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile. “I'll call you later, okay?”

“Text me,” she corrected. “Oh, and don't forget about tomorrow!”

He nodded like he knew exactly what was going on. He was a good boyfriend who would consult with the actual boyfriend about tomorrow's date. Finally, Tom kissed her goodbye and got out of the car.

~

If any of Ethan’s friends saw his current Internet history, he probably would have gotten fired. No, not because he was searching every bit of freaky porn ever, but because each link was to a guide on how to use Adobe Premiere. How to edit YouTube videos. How to put a facecam on gameplay. How to do literally anything that had to do with YouTube.

Ethan hadn’t made it any easier on Tom, either. Any video file he had on his hard drive were titled different variations of “alkdfhkj.” Oh, and they were all either Photoshopped pictures of Ethan in different video games, or already completed videos that were on his YouTube channel. Where was the “pile of unedited footage” he had talked about? Tom inspected the camera behind one of the monitors and took out the SD card. On there, he found a video of Ethan talking about a game called Flix and Chill 2: Millennials. Great, now he had to find the actual gameplay.

It took more hours that what was probably necessary, given that he ended up with an eleven minute video. It was mostly a bunch of tedious work, removing bits and pieces where Ethan fumbled on his words and things that dragged on too long. Tom was by no means an expert on what could and couldn’t stay in the video, but he did his best. He wondered who would be watching this, and if they’ll be able to tell if it was different from what Ethan normally did.

Nevertheless, Tom put it up on Ethan’s channel. Since it was already late in the day, he scheduled it to go up the next morning. Managing the actual YouTube account was much easier than just about anything else involved in this “career.” Well, it wasn’t difficult as much as it was boring. Tom liked to think that he would be more comfortable actually recording videos rather than editing them. Mark’s got his own editors, why doesn’t Ethan?

Speaking of, Tom pulled out his phone again, sending what was probably the third or fourth message in a row to the guy. “Finished editing a video! You can tell me how amazing it is tomorrow morning when it goes up :P”

One down, several more to go.

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tag list: @marie-is-in-the-dark @beardedsteveslut  @ohsnapitzmoony

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next

#crankgameplays x oc #ethan nestor x reader #tom holland x oc #tom holland x reader #sweetheart writes #sweetheart collabs #twelve days #oh btw bella wasnt having a sessy dream at the beginning of the chapter #i realize it could be taken that way #just wanna make that clear #so yh i dont think i have a full monologue to put in the tags this time #i need to include a chapter with teamiplier #or ethans other friends #idek!!! #we shall see what happens