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abeautylives · 1 year

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Imperfect Moments - Chapter Two

a/n: Strange Horizons Nashville twins. That is all.

Series Masterlist

pairing: Jakexfemale!reader

word count: 2.3k this chapter

series summary: You’re in love with your best friend. His twin brother hates you. Or does he?

warnings: 18+ minors stay away, language, emotional pain if you’ve ever seen them live and miss them terribly, unwanted attention (discomfort, unwanted touching, nothing graphic but could be triggering to some), mentions of sexual situations and masterbation (m.)

Strange Horizons. You know Josh penned the lyrics that inspired the name, but Jake’s obsession with piracy is written all over it.

The band was going back on tour, but they’re starting at home and you were finally going to see them do what they do best. Josh had offered you some kind of special seat reserved for friends or family, but you told him you wanted the full experience from the pit.

“Are you gonna turn into a groupie, darling? We plan to put on quite a show, you might just fall in love with one of us,” he pokes at you, but doesn’t seem to notice the evidence of the heat that rushes to your cheeks.

“Maybe I’ll just find a spot on Jake’s side, then we don’t have to worry about it.”

His sharp laughter warms your cheeks further.

By the time they’re set to take the stage that night, you’d found yourself exactly where you’d predicted, though not intentionally. You hadn’t expected the crowd to be quite so dense, but it seemed that after their album release earlier in the year, a ton of people were eager to see them perform. Despite the horde, you’d wiggled your way toward the front and though you’d tried to make it to center stage, the mass of fans there were steadfast and rooted to their spots.

So here you were, staring over a few rows of heads at an empty portion of the stage where you knew Jake would soon appear. Great.

Luckily your view of the middle section of the stage seemed to be mostly unobstructed, and no matter what you’d be able to hear Josh’s voice. You’re smiling to yourself when the person next to you taps your shoulder and starts speaking over the pre-show music.

“How’d you get that pass?” She’s referring to the lanyard hanging around your neck, granting you backstage access if you wanted to head that way toward the end of the show. “They weren’t selling those, I checked.”

I know the band sounded smug, even in your head, but… it’s true. “I, uhh-“

The lights go down and your nonexistent answer is cut short by the roar of the crowd. A recording of Josh’s voice is playing, paired with a video displayed on the jumbotron screens.

And finally, one by one, the guys take the stage. Jake takes his place third, and when Josh appears the crowd is completely gone. He looks beautiful in white, which of course you knew, but he’s radiant right now. Home at last.

Sam takes to the keys and as the opening notes of Heat Above ring through the amphitheater, somehow Josh’s eyes find you. His smile is bright but you know he’s nervous, they’ve been waiting a long time for this moment. You give him the biggest smile you can physically manage before shouting “You got this!”

And he truly did. As the seemingly impossible notes burst forth from his lips, only enhanced by the thousands of people singing along, you think that you couldn’t love him more than you do right now. You know the entire audience is enamored with him as well.

You moved with the crowd, sang with them, eyes only leaving Josh momentarily as your view was interrupted when Jake joined his side to share the microphone, and again as he worked the stage nearer to Sam at the start of a drum solo. It’s during those few minutes that for the first time of the night, you allow yourself to assess Jake’s appearance.

His tailor made suit is a dark blue, embroidered with a floral design, and fitted perfectly to his body. His chest is bare underneath, which is a normal occurrence and nothing you haven’t seen before.

He looks good, but he always does. Right now though, on stage and living what you know has always been his dream, he looks… really fucking good.

Aside from some plucking at an acoustic guitar and videos Josh had sent you to watch, you’ve never actually seen him play. As just another face in a sea of them, you let yourself drown in him for the next couple of songs. This Jake is different from any other version of him you’ve encountered - he looks happy, comfortable, completely in his element with a guitar slung over his shoulder and laying across his hips. The fans are eating it up, yelling his name and screaming when he moves close to the edge of the stage.

You can’t help but notice that he’s also sweating, his face is glowing with it, his hair stuck to it on his cheeks and the sides of his neck.

Unable to take your eyes off of him, you don’t even realize how long you’ve been watching until he goes into a guitar solo that you easily recognize, and suddenly Josh is bouncing into your line of sight again with a tambourine in hand. He’s not necessarily the star of this particular part of the show but you focus your attention on him as he seems to get lost in his brother’s music.

They really are meant to be experienced this way, live and loud, and you’re terribly proud of them. All of them.

When they leave the stage the crowd is buzzing, but the girl from earlier is tapping on your shoulder again. “Do you know them or something? I asked my friend and she said I was right, they didn’t sell any backstage passes. How did you get it?”

“Oh, uh, yeah I know Jo- the singer. Well, all of them. We’re-“

“Are you his girlfriend?! I didn’t think he had one, I've never seen you before.”

You can feel the blush creeping across your skin as you try to figure a way out of this conversation, but there’s nowhere for you to go. You could push your way through and out of the pit, but you want to see at least most of the encore. Fuck.

“Um, no, just friends. Like I said, with all of them.”

“Oh, okay. That’s really cool.” She’s already turned to her other side to whisper into her friend’s ear, so you take your opportunity to tune her presence out. Just in time, Sam reappears onto the stage and all focus is back on him. You’re uncomfortable now though, flustered and barely able to pay attention to what is easily one of your favorite songs. You keep your eyes on Josh as he makes his way back to center stage and he’s able to find you again, a smile and a wave in your direction calm your unease but the girl next to you notices it.

“Holy shit he does know you!”

Ignoring her, you smile and wave back before moving your gaze to Jake. Shit. He’s found you in the crowd for the first time and his eyes are definitely not sparkling with the same light that you’d found in his twin’s, but they’re locked onto yours and you can’t look away.

You’ve seen the look before, distinct aversion shaping his features. Instead of returning fire with your own look of disgust, you grin at him. The way his eyebrows shoot up in confusion is a memory you’ll cherish forever, and it only encourages you to stretch your smile even bigger. Right before your eyes, you watch his face transform as his fingers move into position to play.

Jake Kiszka is smiling back at you, a close-lipped, almost shy looking thing. You feel your mouth drop open slightly, paralyzed by it. He’s smiled at you once, the entire time you’ve known him, and it was the first time you met him.

Your shock is not lost on him, his thoughts are similar to your previous ones. He’ll remember this moment. To really cement it in his mind, he puckers his lips at you and juts his chin in your direction. Your jaw drops further and his smile is now nearly splitting his face in half.

What. The. Fuck?

Frozen like that for a few seconds too long, when you shake yourself out of it you realize he’s back to focusing on his craft and his fans, playing to the crowd, smiling at the faces on the barricade. You’d like to think his attention to you had been the same, nothing but a performance, but it certainly didn’t feel that way and you can feel the eyes of the girl next to you burning holes in the side of your face. When you chance a glance in her direction, she looks as dumbfounded as you feel.

Time to go.

Pushing past her and through the crowd as politely as you can manage, you feel like you can breathe again as soon as you’re out of the pit and moving toward the side of the stage. You flash the pass around your neck to a security guard who holds you up for a few minutes as he confirms that you have permission to go further. Once he does, he passes you off to another person to lead you to a green room where you sit on a well worn couch picking your nails for what feels like a very long time.

When the door bursts open and the guys bound into the room, your eyes find Josh immediately. He’s sweaty, they all are, but he’s glowing and the excitement is rolling off of him and electrifying the stale air of the green room. You can feel it hit you as you stand to congratulate them, but when you move toward him he breezes past you to grab a bottle of water.

Jake watches as your face drops in disappointment but you resituate a smile into place quickly before directing your attention to Sam and Danny, offering them each a hug and a congratulatory kiss on each cheek.

Still high on adrenaline, he can’t stop himself.

“Where’s mine then?”

All heads snap to face him.

“What? I don’t deserve a kiss for a job well done?” A smirk is gracing his lips and once again he’s caused you to feel unnerved and off-balance. You’d prefer if he’d continue to ignore you the way you’ve become accustomed to.

No one else has said a word, this display is uncharacteristic enough to stun you all into silence but he’s decided he’s not done yet.

As your wide eyes stay trained on his face, you feel them threaten to bulge out of your skull when he saunters over to you, wraps an arm around your waist and circles the other around your back. With a hand pressed between your shoulder blades, he pulls you close until the tip of his nose is almost touching yours.

Lowering his volume, but not so much that the others can’t hear, he murmurs, “Tell me I did a good job, sweetheart.”

What the fuck is happening here?

His proximity has effectively sucked the air from your lungs, the heat rolling off of him is suffocating, so it leaves you as a whisper, “Jake… what are you doing?”

He drops his volume again, to match yours. “I know you enjoyed it, I just wanna hear it from you.”

Without moving your face away from his, you scan your eyes past him to find the others are staring. Waiting to see this play out. Josh’s expression is difficult to read but he mostly appears entertained, curious but not upset at all that his brother has wrapped himself around you and pressed his body against yours.

Clearing your throat so that the others will hear, and this will be over, you tell him, “You guys were all amazing, you should definitely be proud of yourselves.”

It’s not good enough for him so he doesn’t release you. Maintaining his hushed tone, he asks again, “So where’s my kiss?”

You don’t know what else to do, so you lean in closer and peck your lips against his cheek, pulling away immediately after. Satisfied, he lets go of you.

Josh is instantly swooping in and scooping you off of your feet, laughing loudly as he swings you around. “See darling? It’s not so hard to be nice to each other, let’s celebrate!” His joy is infectious and you feel the tension of the last few moments melt away as you laugh with him.

Once you’re set back onto your feet you throw your arms around his shoulders and hug him tight.

“Josh, you were perfect out there. Really, it was so great.”

He’s beaming back at you before he presents his cheek to you and taps it twice with his fingertip. Without hesitation you press a kiss there and giggle as he turns for one on the other side.

That night, you have trouble falling asleep. Very specific moments are running through your mind, but there are two intertwined that you can’t help but over analyze.

Jake had rattled you after the show, for sure. You’d never seen him behave that way, and especially not with you, but worse than that… Josh didn’t seem to care all that much that his brother was making you uncomfortable, touching you, begging for your approval. You’re upset with yourself for expecting anything different.

Inversely, Jake had knocked out as soon as his head hit the pillow. After a few celebratory drinks, you’d all gone your separate ways and the guys intended to get enough rest in preparation for another show the following night.

Not totally unusual for him, he dreamt of you. You popped up there every once in a while, which could be expected considering you were always invading the space he shared with Josh. More atypically however, this dream version of you was naked in his lap and riding him slowly, whimpering his name and words of praise. Not telling him how good he was fucking you, but how well he had played, how talented he is.

The next morning, you woke up groggy and unrested. Jake woke up hard, painfully so, and he didn’t even try to stop himself from replaying his dreams behind his eyelids when his fist was wrapped around his dick in the shower.

Taglist:

@lightmylove-gvf @spicedandicedtea @weneedsomehealing123 @milkgemini @why-ami-on-here @gretavanbitches @twistedmelodies @wildflowerxx-x @dannythedog @blissfulbellss @averagemisfit03

Please let me know if you’d like to be added ❤️

#greta van fleet #gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf fan fiction #gvf smut #jake kiszka #jake gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf

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victorianpining · 4 months

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20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged by @clueless-mp4 (thank you!!!) to answer some questions about my fic writing, this might get a little repetetive as I only currently have one published work, but it gives me a chance to talk a little bit about Vampire Fic which I am always excited to do.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently 2, soon to be 3!

2. What's your total A03 word count?

Currently 98k, soon to be 200k (approximately).

3. What fandoms do you write for? BBC Sherlock and its adjacents (Holmes canon and of course BBC Dracula)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

From a Drop of Water sweep by default!!!

Truly though I am still so touched by the response to that story, it has been beyond anything I ever expected and I am so grateful to have written something that resonated with so many people.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I get so much joy out of going through my comments, and I try to take the time to respond to anyone who was kind enough to tell me that they enjoyed my writing.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I'm a big fan of angst with a happy ending. That said, if you've seen Dracula, you know to expect there to be something bittersweet about the ending of The Stories in Our Veins

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

From a Drop of Water was and is pure wish fulfillment on all accounts.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet *knock on wood* which has been a delightful change of pace.

9. Do you write smut?

The vampire fic has exactly one (1) sex scene.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I am currently! But does it really count as a crossover when two stories were meant to be connected? (Yeah I think so).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, From a Drop of Water has been translated into Mandarin and Russian which is so so cool to me.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not exactly, though when working on the early stages of From a Drop of Water, I solicited a lot of feedback from my beta readers, and I would say the feedback @novaviis offered in particular played a huge role in why that story turned out as well as it did! I definitely appreciated all the help while I was still so new to building a story.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Holmes and Watson forever and always, amen.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Thankfully none at this stage, though as you can imagine in a writing process as long as the one for The Stories in Our Veins has been there have been several points where I have despaired of it ever actually getting done.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think my strongest suit is planning out the subtextual language of a story and weaving in references that create interplay between my work and the source text. I've also gained a lot of structural practice with this current story and I think I'm getting pretty good at it! My most niche talent is the written montage, love connecting all the little clues together at the end!!!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Prose itself, particularly descriptions, though I'd say I'm getting better at both with practice. I also have certain words that I mix up with other words that I cannot for the life of me ever keep straight (homophones are the bane of my existence) so I have to be really careful to search those out, and even then my beta readers still find ones I miss!!!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I don't think I would do it unless I spoke the language myself, I'd be too worried about getting something wrong.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Actually, I did write one Alice centered one shot for the Twilight fandom back when I was like... 13. I don't think I ever deleted it so it probably still exists out on the internet somewhere, though I have no idea what I might have named that account so have no way of finding it.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Not to oversell it, but I really adore The Stories in Our Veins, and I'm very proud of how it's turning out. I think it's better than From a Drop of Water in just about every way, though I recognize that a crossover with a TV show that only 12 people care about is going to have a lot less of a broad appeal than a TJLC slanted re-imagining of series 4. If you do end up reading it anyway, know that you have my undying gratitude!

I'm tagging @novaviis, @minotaurmutual and @teledild0nix!

#rebs blogging #tag games

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redhairedgirl95 · 2 years

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Do you have anything about Musa and Stella interacting in any way?

Musa and Stella's performance

The bathroom door opened, but Stella kept on singing, as she applied her hair mask. Flora had said to leave it on for fifteen minutes, enough time for at least four songs. She smiled with her eyes closed, lying in her bathtub.

“What song is that?”

At that Stella screamed, instinctively covering her chest with her arms, even though everything from her shoulders down was concealed by a thousand bubbles. “Musa, what the fuck! Don’t you ever knock?”

“I did.” She replied. “What were you singing?”

Stella rolled her eyes. “It’s a traditional song of Solaria.”

“It’s in another language.” The Fairy of Music pointed out.

“That’s Solaria’s old language. Only few know it.” She answered, not without a touch of pride.

“It’s beautiful. You’ve got a beautiful singing voice.”

“Thank you.” Stella was startled by her compliment. She didn’t expect that. She and Musa didn’t exactly have the best track record.

“I had never heard you sing before.”

“Well, that’s because I only do it when I am alone. In my bathtub or shower. Naked. So … could you?”

“Uh? Yeah. Sorry.” Musa turned her back to Stella and crossed the doorway. “You should let others hear you.” With that, she closed the door and Stella remained alone with her thoughts. And with a smile on her lips.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Musa?” Finding her had been easy. She was lying down in her favorite spot in the gardens, music staff papers scattered all around, a pencil between her lips.

“Hi, Stella.” She waved, distracted. “I thought you were going to Magix City with the others.”

“Not today, I … I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

Musa lifted her gaze from the papers and sat up, surprised, as Stella sat next to her and showed her a bright pink notebook. “Sure. What do you need?”

“You know about the show at Red Fountain?”

“Yes, Riven told me about it the other day. I’ll perform last.” She smiled. Headmaster Codatorta had asked her to, but she suspected it was all Riven’s idea.

“I know. Brandon told me, and I … I’d like to sing too. I’ve written a song and …”

“You did?!” Musa took her notebook and started reading. Stella’s handwriting was impeccable. It looked like she’d spent months perfecting every single letter. Maybe she had. Who knows what princesses do with all the time they have … “Wow, Stel. You should definitely perform too!”

The princess smiled. “It’s what I wanted to tell you. I’ve asked Codatorta and he said it’s fine. But I know he agreed so only because my father has funded most of New Red Fountain. And I … I don’t want to mess up.”

“Why would you …?”

“Please, would you sing with me? I know it will be fine if we do this together. Please, Musa.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was their turn. Brandon and Sky had just finished their performance, and it had been so hot – not just because they where literally playing with fire – that it had helped Stella take her mind off of her performance. But just for a moment. Once they finished and Brandon gave her quick peck on the cheek before running to go get change and join his friends in front of the stage, the fear of failure was back.

“Ready?” Musa squeezed her hand.

“Ready.”

Musa smiled and let go of Stella’s hand. “See you on stage, Princess.”

“Still sure about that hat?”

“See you on stage, Princess.” She repeated, reaching her spot behind the microphone after Codatorta had called her name.

Alone, Stella took a deep breath to calm her nerves. It would be fine, she had practiced. She knew the words, the choreo. It was her song, and she was gonna slay it. Yes! She smiled broadly as she joined Musa on stage. And then she fell.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

There were at least other three performances before Musa’s final song. Stella was hiding in one of the rooms they had used to warm up and change, and that was where her friend found her, curled up on the sofa, crying.

She’d had singing lessons since she was little, but every time she performed … something went wrong. Like it had done that night. She’d made a fool of herself. Like always. And now everyone would be laughing at her.

“Stella … why are you crying?” Musa sat on the armrest and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

Her eyes opened wide, but she relaxed a bit when she saw who it was. “So, you never knock.”

“No, I guess I don’t.” Musa chuckled. “So? Wanna tell me why all those tears? You’ll ruin your make-up.”

“It’s waterproof.” Stella conjured a tissue to wipe her tears, but they kept coming. “I messed up. The choreo was all wrong, and then the mic kept falling … I ruined it.”

“You’re crazy, right?”

“No, I’m not crazy, Musa.” She replied, annoyed. “I’m sad, and you’re not making me feel better.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be sad in the first place. Yeah, the mic fell a couple of times.” More like seven. “But everyone loved the song. Your song. They loved you, Stella.” Musa smiled.

“Sure?”

“Heck yeah! I hear people want your autograph, now!”

“Wait, wait.” She looked at her in the eyes. “Do you mean I have fans? Because of the song?”

She nodded. “They’re outside waiting for you to come out.”

“But then I must go to them!” Stella stood up and checked her reflection in the mirror, before heading straight for the door.

Musa laughed at her immediate change in demeanor. “Maybe next time choose lower heels!”

“Will do! And you should ditch the hat.” Stella opened the door and smiled at her fans. “Love you, Musie!” She closed the door behind her to leave her friend to her rehearsal. “So? Do you have a pen, guys?”

“I don’t.” A tall guy made his way through the little crowd. “Can I still have a moment with the star?”

“Brandon!” Stella hugged him tight.

“You were incredible tonight, sunshine.” He kissed her on the cheek. “How come you’ve never sung for me?”

“Grant me a private show wearing that outfit” He knew perfectly well which outfit. “and I’ll sing whatever you want, Shnookums.”

#giulia answers asks #giulia speaks #dzulia writes #stella winx club #musa winx club #do do do dodadodea #a song for you #because stella actually sounds good in the italian version #check it out #season 2 #episode 15 #i love this episode #winx club #screaming into the void just because

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sohelish · 2 years

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𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝟎𝟎𝟏 : 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄.

NAME: Helena Jane Redford Hughes

EYE COLOUR: brown

HAIR STYLE / COLOUR: messy golden blonde

HEIGHT: 5′4″ - 5′5″ ( 164 cm give or take )

CLOTHING STYLE: as practical as possible, black and browns, dark greens and greys/best fitting for the environment

BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE: either the big, cold observing eyes of hers or the wide mouth which provides various creepy smiles, take your pick

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝟎𝟎𝟐 : 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄.

FEARS: a little bit of everything + the triggered irrational fear of heights

GUILTY PLEASURE: takes no guilt in any pleasure / waves off guilt as an unnecessary concept we only feel responsibility in this house))

BIGGEST PET PEEVE: when people pity her / when her boundaries are disrespected

AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE: irritating as many people as she can into not forgetting her ever / being the best version of herself every day

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝟎𝟎𝟑 : 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒.

FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP: braaains I mean, cooooffee

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT MOST: maybe herself or behaviourism in general, hard to say

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED MEDITATION: analysing all the situations she’s been in, every mental pin/note she made, scheming

WHAT THEY THINK THEIR BEST QUALITY IS: adaptability

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝟎𝟎𝟒 : 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓’𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑?

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES: doesn’t date

TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED: respected

BEAUTY OR BRAINS: everyone is beautiful and smart in their own way/number of combinations so why choose when it’s a matter of perspective?

DOGS OR CATS: cats

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝟎𝟎𝟓 : 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘…

LIE: only if she can’t help it, but, at the same time, pay attention to her language use/how she tries to get away with as much implied meaning as possible Hel vc: if you misinterpret what I say, it’s on you

BELIEVE IN THEMSELVES: yes

BELIEVE IN LOVE: saw it, took notes, still thinks it’s not a thing for her

WANT SOMEONE: if she did, would never admit it we can’t have nice things

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝟎𝟎𝟔 : 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑…

BEEN ON STAGE: yes

CHANGED WHO THEY WERE TO FIT IN: played with the outside image/perception/behaviour for missions, yes

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝟎𝟎𝟕 : 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒.

FAVOURITE COLOUR: pastels, namely peach pink and purple

FAVOURITE ANIMAL: cat

FAVOURITE BOOK: seneca. moral letters to lucilius

FAVOURITE GAME: used to be shadow theatre with her sibling/s ( sudoku isn’t exactly a game, but maybe counts idk? )

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝟎𝟎𝟖 : 𝐀𝐆𝐄.

DAY THEIR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE: 21st of march

HOW OLD WILL THEY BE: 37

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝟎𝟎𝟗 : 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄.

I LOVE: myself

I FEEL: deeply

I HIDE: nothing

I MISS: nothing

I WISH: for nothing

tagged by: @fasciinating thank you)))

tagging: @ofdeomnes @jurati @escapedartgeek @facetedspades for Julian @duefaith + YOU bc this was both fun and made me feel like I’ve actually written smth ;)

#hel of a meme (answered meme)#I prefer the eyes tbh. her smiles freak me out as they should.#also me a huge in.trovert: what's a gr.oup da.te?#long post for ts #yikes long post is long for real))

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whileiamdying · 3 months

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Love, Iranian Style

By James Wood June 22, 2009

Sometimes, the soft literary citizens of liberal democracy long for prohibition. Coming up with anything to write about can be difficult when you are allowed to write about anything. A day in which the most arduous choice has been between “grande” and “tall” does not conduce to literary strenuousness. And what do we know about life? Our grand tour was only through the gently borderless continent of Google. Nothing constrains us. Perhaps we look enviously at those who have the misfortune to live in countries where literature is taken seriously enough to be censored, and writers venerated with imprisonment. What if writing were made a bit more exigent for us? What if we had less of everything? It might make our literary culture more “serious,” certainly more creatively ingenious. Instead of drowning in choice, we would have to be inventive around our thirst. Tyranny is the mother of metaphor, and all that.

Among other things, Shahriar Mandanipour’s novel “Censoring an Iranian Love Story” (translated by Sara Khalili; Knopf; $25) is a tough reply to such maundering. Mandanipour, a distinguished Iranian novelist and short-story writer, was prohibited from publishing his fiction in his native country between 1992 and 1997. He came to the United States in 2006, as an International Writers Project Fellow at Brown University, and stayed in America. This novel, his first major work to be translated into English, was written in Farsi but cannot be read in Iran. His book is thus acutely displaced: it had to have been written with an audience outside of Iran in mind, but in a language that this audience would mostly not understand; it depends on translation for its being, yet its being is thoroughly Iranian, lovingly and allusively so, dense with local reference. And it takes as its subject exactly these paradoxes, for it is explicitly about what can and cannot be written in contemporary Iranian fiction.

Novelists fret over how to get their characters into and out of rooms, but what if their characters weren’t allowed to be in those rooms in the first place? How might one write a love story about a young man and woman, set in a country in which the unmarried couple is not allowed to spend any significant time together? At the beginning of “Censoring an Iranian Love Story,” two Tehran natives, Dara and Sara, meet at a student demonstration outside Tehran University, and spend the next two hundred and eighty pages attempting not so much to consummate their relationship as simply to begin it. It is like something out of Laurence Sterne, and Mandanipour, who dedicates his book to the postmodern novelist Robert Coover (among others), is playfully alive to the elasticated comedy of a digressive story that expends all its energy on failing to start.

But this narrative foreplay isn’t just play, because it is forced and not free, conditioned by Iranian political reality. Dara and Sara cannot walk along a street without attracting attention from the morals patrols. If caught, they might have to pretend to be siblings. An Internet café could be just as risky. They cannot freely visit each other at home. Where to go? The author, who likes to break into his narrative with asides and gossip, tells us that he once wrote a story in which he led his amorous couple to a cemetery as their meeting place. “At the time, the anticorruption officers’ imagination did not extend to a girl and a boy taking advantage of the grave of an unsuspecting and helpless dead mother to set the stage for their sin.” Later in the novel, for much the same reason, Dara and Sara, keeping one step ahead of the imagination of the morals police, take refuge in a hospital emergency room, where people will be too busy to notice them. And, in addition to the characters’ material constraints, there are the writer’s. Literature is, of course, censored in Iran. The author jokes about how Iran is subconsciously practicing “the late Roland Barthes’s theory of the Death of the Author,” and likens this control to political torture and disappearance: “So it is that many stories . . . in maneuvering their way through the Ministry of Culture and Islamic Guidance either are wounded, lose certain limbs, or are with finality put to death.”

Mandanipour’s inventive way of depicting this censorship in his novel is to inscribe it, quite literally, in the pages of his novel. So throughout the book, whenever the story of Dara and Sara becomes unacceptably political or erotic, offending sentences are crossed out—not blotted out (as was done in Joseph Weisberg’s recent C.I.A. thriller “An Ordinary Spy”) but struck through with a horizontal line, so that the reader can examine what might constitute a literary offense in Iran. The text is veiled, but the author lifts the veil for his non-Iranian audience. A typical passage begins, “Sara is studying Iranian literature at Tehran University.” But the following sentence is crossed out: “However, in compliance with an unwritten law, teaching contemporary Iranian literature is forbidden in Iranian schools and universities.” When Sara goes into a store to buy sunglasses, the store owner, a man, watches her, and says, with a sigh, “What a shame for those beautiful eyes and that tantalizing face to be hidden behind those glasses.” The phrase “and that tantalizing face” is struck out.

It is an effective, simple idea that gets less suggestive as the novel proceeds—partly because Mandanipour does not much vary the kind of material that is redacted, and partly because the redacted material is, of course, almost perfectly legible. The text thus has it both ways, simultaneously veiling and unveiling itself for the Western reader, in a slightly too easy pact. More powerful is a figurative vandalism: it is the novel’s insistent argument that a modern Iranian love story can hardly be written at all, because it is contaminated not only by the fact of censorship but by the idea of censorship, and bound by literary conventions. The reader is made aware that behind Sara and Dara stands the famous twelfth-century Iranian poem about two lovers, “Khosrow and Shirin.” In one of his many mischievous authorial interventions, Mandanipour notes that ancient Sufi love poetry often likens the body of a woman to a cypress tree, her eyes to those of a gazelle, her breasts to pomegranates, and so on. He implies that this level of figurative ornament is a kind of self-censorship by simile. So the tale of Sara and Dara is not only scored by the censor’s markings; it is constantly lapsing into cliché and conventional euphemism, because direct erotic language is not possible. “Sara’s lips resemble plump ripe cherries with their delicate skin about to split from the heat of the sun,” the author writes, knowingly. This love story cannot be told naturally, only unnaturally, with much interruption and self-consciousness: “Exactly a year before the political demonstration I told you about, on a spring day—and in old Iranian love stories there is a beautiful spring day with the song of nightingales and other pleasant-sounding birds resonating from sentences—Sara appears at the public library.”

“Censoring an Iranian Love Story” is not simply prohibited by censorship but made by it. For Mandanipour, the censor is a kind of co-writer of the book, and he appears often in this novel, under the alias of Porfiry Petrovich (the detective who chases Dostoyevsky’s Raskolnikov). We see him squabbling with Mandanipour, chatting to another Iranian writer, plotting alternative stories for Dara and Sara, striking out offensive phrases, and finally falling in love with Sara. He is a heavy presence in the novel, and is both creator and critic; the writer is always anticipating the imagination of prohibition even as he tries to outwit it. Even more interesting, the writer, in this situation, becomes his characters; he wants what they want. Their freedom is bound up with his. This interdependency does provocative things to the relation of fiction to reality. On the one hand, fiction becomes more real—real enough to strike lines through. On the other hand, fiction becomes more fictional—multiple writers (the author and his censors) are making up a collective story as they go along, improvising, cutting, editing, bargaining with each other. One of the great successes of this book is how thoroughly it persuades the reader that a novel about censorship could not help also being a novel about fiction-making; and it thus brings a political gravity to a fictive self-consciousness sometimes abused by the more weightless postmodernism.

Since the official love story can barely get off the ground, Mandanipour supplies the unofficial version, in an essayistic running commentary that often displaces the official tale for pages on end. (The formal love story appears on the page in bold type, the authorial interpolations in roman.) This commentary, in which Mandanipour writes as himself, entertainingly informs the reader about the riskier aspects of the two protagonists, the history of censorship in Iran, the revolution of 1979, and so on. We learn that Dara, before he met Sara, was studying filmmaking at Tehran University, and was imprisoned for leftist activity. He was released, only to find that his place at the university had disappeared. He earned money by selling videos of Western auteurs (Welles, Bergman, Antonioni) but was arrested and imprisoned again, and this time was put in solitary confinement. Dara’s father suffered more acute repetitions: a Communist before 1979, he was arrested under the Shah and put in the notorious Evin prison. After the revolution, he was triumphantly released, but six years later was rearrested, once again “for the crime of being a Communist,” and sent back to the same prison. “The beggars have changed places, but the lash goes on,” as Yeats has it. Mandanipour likes these politically circular stories, painful and faintly comic in their seriality, and he is often mordant about the great revolution that turned out not to be one:

At Tehran University, students demonstrated against American imperialism, and the army attacked the university and killed three students. University students and political activists named this day University Students’ Day, and every year on the sixteenth of Āzar there were demonstrations and protests against the Shah’s regime. The students would break the windows of college buildings, and the university guards would attack them. They would beat them up and arrest some of them, and in jail they would flog them or sodomize them with Coca-Cola bottles. They would then release them so that on the next sixteenth of Āzar the students could break even more windows. However, after the revolution, the Islamic Republic’s regime executed so many students and political oppositionists every day that no one could name a particular day for a particular occasion. Therefore, all our days became the sixteenth of Āzar, meaning all our days became days on which a group of people were killed for freedom. The masterwork of the Islamic Republic was that it eradicated the importance of occasions.

The first hundred pages or so of “Censoring an Iranian Love Story” are exciting. Mandanipour’s writing is exuberant, bonhomous, clever, profuse with puns and literary-political references; the reader unversed in contemporary Iranian fiction might easily think of Kundera (who is alluded to), or of the Rushdie of “Midnight’s Children” (who is not). Mandanipour is a charming and often witty guide: “Perhaps the banning of neckties in Iran—which I will elaborate on later—was because they can be perceived as an arrow pointing to a man’s lower organ.” There is a joke—one of those universal jokes which, one feels, must be popular with writers in all totalitarian cultures—when Dara is rearrested, and his young, pious interrogator asks him about his studies in film. Using the structuralist language of film theory, Dara tells the man that “the language of cinema has its own distinct codes. People have to learn these codes. Once they do, they will completely relate to the language of cinema.” The interrogator’s eyes sparkle: “Codes? There are codes in films? . . . Do you know these codes?” Dara has just sealed his fate.

One problem with the form of the novel, however, is that Mandanipour’s unofficial authorial commentary is soon of greater interest to the reader than the official love story. A novel in which the informal, uncensored critique gradually overwhelmed the formal, censored story would have been fascinating, and gripping in its way. Instead, Mandanipour perseveres with the formal tale of Dara and Sara, who are interesting whenever the author writes unofficially about them, and boring whenever they are participants in “an Iranian Love Story.” This is partly because their role is didactic: they are there to show that an Iranian love story can barely be written, and have no quiddity as literary characters. But the larger problem is that Mandanipour overwhelms his young protagonists with self-conscious literary references and metafictional high jinks. Mr. Petrovich makes too many appearances in the story. We get the point that he is a co-creator of the tale, and we also get the point that Mandanipour, who communicates with his characters (for instance, it is he who whispers to Dara that he should go with Sara to the refuge of the emergency room), is their ultimate manipulator, their God. “I have tried to dissuade Dara from what he is planning, but I have been no match for him,” he writes toward the end of the novel. “I see clearly how my love story is moving in a direction that I never intended. The story is falling apart.” Indeed it is, and it is both unaffecting and heavy-handed when, on the next page, Dara grabs the author by the throat and complains, “You shouldn’t have written me like this. You shouldn’t have written me as browbeaten and pathetic. . . . You wrote me like this to pass your story through censorship.” Meanwhile, a hunchback from “The Thousand and One Nights” is making regular appearances, and Mandanipour tries to spice up the love story with a rival suitor, named Sinbad. The book’s lowest moment is reached when Gogol’s Akaky Akakievich, the clerk from the story “The Overcoat,” turns up in Tehran, and asks Mandanipour, who is standing on a street with Mr. Petrovich, “Have you seen the thief who stole my cloak?” Even Robert Coover might itch to delete such a scene from one of his students’ fictions. There are some good forms of censorship.

The novel’s uncertainty is strange, not just because Mandanipour has confidence and authority to spare but also because his novel refers to a shimmeringly beautiful Iranian example of how to tell a blocked love story—Abbas Kiarostami’s film “Through the Olive Trees.” As in everything he does, Kiarostami narrates a complexly self-conscious tale with the utmost simplicity: an Iranian director is making a film, in rural northern Iran, and needs a leading man and woman. The young actor who is eventually selected turns out, in his ordinary life, to be in love with the woman who is playing opposite him. He has asked her to marry him, but she has refused, because he has no house and is illiterate. On the film set, however, the couple must act as husband and wife. Kiarostami wrings the most tender comedy out of such small things as the woman’s refusal to address the actor, on set, as “Mr. Hossein,” as she would do if he were her husband. The actors have to do a scene in which the husband asks his wife where his socks are. They are not very good at it, and numerous takes ensue. Off the set, the young man, filled with ardor, assures the skeptical young woman that if they were really married he would actually know where his socks were.

It is this luminous film—not named, but clearly recognizable—that Dara and Sara watch, in a Tehran cinema, in “Censoring an Iranian Love Story”: “During the final scenes of the movie, they even have tears in their eyes.” Where Mandanipour’s love story fails to generate any great interest of its own, the two young actors in “Through the Olive Trees” are utterly solid and realized; and, paradoxically, their solidity is not softened by Kiarostami’s postmodern self-consciousness but magically enhanced by it. (One would happily forever watch the two of them rehearsing the scene about the socks.) Kiarostami’s fascination with fictionality—his films often collapse the theatrical fourth wall—emerges naturally from his great interest in the real, as one might be very interested, say, in colors because one loved flowers, or in angels because one believed in God. To complain that Mandanipour does not equal Kiarostami’s almost Chekhovian humaneness and delicacy would be unfair; for one thing, Mandanipour is politically much more savage than the wily neorealist survivor, who has lived all his life in Iran, and has different ambitions. But Kiarostami’s film does demonstrate that one can beautifully combine the telling of a love story with a deep inquiry into the artifice of telling such a story—and, indeed, that the two concerns belong together. ♦

Published in the print edition of the June 29, 2009, issue.

James Wood, a staff writer at The New Yorker since 2007, teaches at Harvard. His latest book is “Serious Noticing,” a collection of essays.

#Abbas Kiarostami #Censorship #Iran #Iranians #Knopf #Novels #Postmodernism #Tehran #Writers #James Wood #The New Yorker

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rndyounghowze · 4 months

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Review 520: Edward and Christine

Written By: Kenneth Koch

Performed By: Tia Shearer

In Collaboration With: Deb Sivigny and Anna Lathorp

http://tinyurl.com/Edward-and-Christine

We have listened to our readers who have to use accessibility software to read text or have trouble reading small print. In addition to reading our reviews on Instagram at @rndyounghowze you can read them on plain text on our blog.

We have started to live by the motto, “Wherever you can park your butt you can watch a great show.” We say this because we have seen people make great works of theatre wherever they can set up a camera and put their mugs in front of it. There is something punk and subversive about putting on a show in your very own home to an audience of faces from across the universe. So enter Tia Shearer who has parked her bum in front of a camera and, with the help of partners in crime Deb Sivigny and Anna Lathrop, has decided to perform a 90-minute poetic-epic mind explosion of a play by Kenneth Koch using only her hands and stuff from around her house to embody the 100+ characters of the piece. Yes, it is just as chaotic as it sounds but Shearer, Sivigny, and Lathrop seem ready to fill the order that Koch’s brand of random lays out for them.

When you read the words “100+ characters” you think two things: “Dear Goddess why!?!” and “Dear Goddess how!?!” Shearer used a mixture of props, costumes, and hand gestures to differentiate between characters. A mustache, batteries with bunny ears, pieces of fabric, and a Donkey Kong Stuffie all become part of the “dramatis personae”. The energy gets so chaotic that half of the fun of the show is watching Shearer break character as she must desperately find a prop that she threw off camera in one scene that she needs for the second act. We love that, no matter how seriously Shearer takes her craft she keeps the atmosphere laid back by having a chuckle at herself.

Koch’s script is very dense. It has all the chaos and beauty of a book of poetry. In our opinion, its greatest strength is also its greatest challenge for the audience. Its language is lofty and meaningful but fleeting so it’s hard to hold onto. The time line is as pervasive, erratic, and ephemeral as memory itself which is exactly what Koch was trying to portray. Yet that means the audience is constantly in a lurch. They are constantly trying to follow one thread and only come up with frayed edges as a new ball of yarn rolls into view. Koch doesn’t tie up loose ends or even care if plot lines get unraveled. This is not a literal interpretation this is a story told in the same way that important parts of our lives are remembered: fragmented, fractured, and fleeting.

When you look up these two artists they don’t immediately look like a match made in heaven. Sivigny is a designer that has done everything from production design to dance to weddings. Lathrop is a “transdisciplinary” designer whose website boasts everything from “futures design” to an encyclopedic list of “punk technology” (which Ricky immediately bookmarked). You can see a little bit of each of their essence in the design and performance of this piece. Digital home performances already have a “punk DIY” feel to them but Lathrop certainly puts her spin on it. Sivigny’s work looks like she can make whole worlds appear out of the nothingness of the stage. When one marries the two of these styles together one gets a home-brewed and slow-cooked design that makes sleek and efficient use of the small space but also a subversive and chaotic air to the whole proceedings. Though it looks mad there be method in it.

We almost wish that every audience member had a copy of the script with them as they were watching the play. A playscript is a foundation for a performance, a blueprint for a house. Koch’s verses of word shrapnel give a very fractured framework of a story. We don’t know where the story is going. We barely know where it started. The bulk of Shearer’s performance seems to be aimed at making a stable brick house of performance off of that foundation. There were moments when we were fully welcomed into the house and got to walk inside then there were other times we felt like we stepped through the kitchen door and found ourselves falling off the third-story balcony. Shearer is so great at performing the characters and telling the story we feel like it’s our fault for making the wrong turns.

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amazalina · 3 years

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man this was an emotional ride

#the haunting of hill house #i just... what a well written family. i've never seen this in a show before. they were so life-like #like the one about the two storms? a family talking about family and reliving the same fights over and over again and then finding new ones #that are also about the same thing if you look closely. and how they just stop and help each other and do things together #the second pragmatic stuff calls for them to. just... family. and how it stays with you even when you're older.#i also finally understood that thing with the writing that i thought was too heavy when i realised it's actually THEATRE #it's written exactly as if it were to play on stage and language takes a life of its own and becomes like an eighth character #it supports the whole stories and makes it an ensemble of stories delicately stitched together and it takes a lot of words and povs #and memories and other stories to make up just one. and that's accurate and it also reminds us how much we all rely on words and stories #to take in reality.#i LOVED it. i loved it. it was fascinating that all along it isn't... only about ghosts #or yes but the ghosts are about something else too. and it's not about a haunted house really or maybe it is. it's just that.#it's the people who are haunted and they are almost always haunted by each other and themselves and if you blur the imaginary with reality #like young boys and grown up ones do all the time. it does become a very haunting world. and it is.#anyways i WEPT watching this and it was so good.#thohh

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drakenology · 3 years

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𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐀𝐆

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

"you danced all night, girl you deserve it."

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: smut, stripping, teasing, praise, spitting, light face slapping, cussing/filthy language, exhibitionism?, oral (male receiving), cervix fucking, slight cum play and friends with benefits relationship, i say “towards” a lot in one sentence.

𝔯𝔢𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔰: i’m incredibly inspired by strippers rn and this is the funnest thing I’ve written in a while. hope yall like it babies! <3 tagging my bae @rekiri ‘cause she told me to.

Every Saturday your favorite customer comes in with his crew toting duffle bags full of money. Word around town is he’s in some gang, Toman or something like that; real tough guys. But here at The Cherry Nipple, he was just the guy with the tattoo on the side of his shaved head who spends the most money when they visit. “Draken” liked to watch the girls dance for him all night, requesting different girls to admire how uniquely seductive they could be. The female body was art to him, loving to touch and explore their bodies in as many ways as they’ll allow. Ken especially loved to watch you dance. Something about you, your aura or your confidence just drew him to you. You were the baddest in the club and he’s spent the most time and money with you most nights.

It was slow before they came in, every member of Toman finding a girl they liked and having her entertain them for the night. Ken made a beeline to the stage, where he knew you’d be. Watching you on the pole never failed to have the giant ruffian shifting his cock through his jeans. Looking down from the pole as you spun graciously, you wink at him, sliding down into a split onto the floor below.

“Fuck.” you watched him say when you started bouncing, reading his lips when you spread your legs and sit up to crawl towards the edge of the stage towards him. He walks towards the ledge and leans towards you, biting his lip when you get close to him; so close you could kiss.

“You’re a fuckin’ tease, ya know that? You know exactly what you’re doin’.” He says directly in your ear, followed with a deep growl. Ken steps back to sip his drink, watching you slip off the skimpy top you were wearing as part of your costume to reveal your perfect breasts. Your nipples were covered by shimmering pasties; nipples cost extra. You lean into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and making sure the valley of your breasts are directly in his face.

“So? Don’t see you complainin’, handsome.”, purring at him while you twirl his braid around your polished finger.

“You free?” Draken asks you, pulling you back down before you stand up to walk off. He’s obviously asking if you’ve got any prior obligations other than him, wanting you all to himself for the rest of his night. His dark eyes were locked onto yours, so captivated by your beauty no other dancer could satiate.

“‘M not ‘free’. I cost a lot. You know that, Ken.” You tease, purposely missing the point to get a rise out of him.

“You know what I’m talkin’ about, smart ass. Got a couple bands I wanna give you for the V.I.P room. I expect your fine ass to give me a show.”

“Hm. I do have a regular already waiting for me. Afterwards, kay?” Before you can stand, you’re pulled back down to your knees in front of him. You raise your brow at him when he shakes his head, flashing you about 50,000 dollars cold hard cash. Ka-ching! You can feel yourself getting giddy around all that cash, ready and willing to do whatever it is Draken wanted to get to it.

“Tell that motherfucker to go home. I’m here now.” Draken smirks when he sees your sultry eyes sparkle at all the money he’s waving in your face.

“Consider it done.” You chime, biting your lip before slowly standing on your feet.

Taking your hand he helps you step down from the stage, your tall platform heels clicking against the hardwood floor as you lead him to the back. Draken wore a big grin on his face, looking back at his buddies as if he just bagged the jackpot as he followed you behind the pink velvet curtains backstage.

Now you’re practically nude, wearing nothing but a g-string while you pop some premium champagne for the two of you to sip. Draken sat back in the single seat in the V.I.P room, legs spread as he wet his lips with his tongue. He could already feel himself growing hard as stone from the sight of your gorgeous nipples; so perked and happy to see him. But the show hadn’t even begun. You walk towards him, hips swaying with the bottle of champagne in your hands. Your hand grabs his chin to tilt his head back, Ken’s mouth open so you can pour some on his tongue. A little spills from the corner of his mouth, your finger swiping it off his face to stick it in your mouth.

“Mmm… Ace of Spades? You spoil me, daddy.” You purr to him, pulling away to walk back over to the mini-stage and stand in front of the pole. You start your dance, your hips grinding and swinging to the beat of the bumping music. Draken rests his elbows on his knees as he leans forward to get a closer look at you, watching your body swing and spin around on the golden pole in the middle of the room.

He grabs some of the money from his duffle bag and removes the rubber band that bound the bills together in its stack. He tossed about half of it into the air, both of you watching in awe as the bills fluttered and fell to the floor and onto your body. Seeing all this money being thrown at you went straight to your pussy, feeling on your tits in front of him as his eyes rest there to watch you. It’s practically raining dollar bills, hundreds, fifties and twenties all flying around in the air just because of how much you turned him on. You can see him biting his lip, adjusting his cock in his seat when you arch your back and crawl down to the floor towards him.

You sat in front of him on your knees and ran your hand along his cock as it hard sat on his lap, watching him shudder at your touch. Draken couldn’t help but to reach down and tilt your pretty face up to look at him, slouching in his seat so you’d touch him more.

“Still wanna keep fuckin’ teasin’ me or are you gonna let me fuck you tonight?” He asks you, deep voice seeming lower and more seductive with every word. You climb into his lap and grab your glass of champagne to take a sip. Do you dare have sex with a customer? A man who’s in some shady dealings with dirty money? Fuck it. As long as he keeps the money flowing.

And so you kiss him, slow and deep. You can taste a mixture of rum and champagne on his mouth as your tongues commingle and swirl in each other’s mouths.

Instinctively your hips start to grind against his length through his jeans, his idle hands grabbing and squeezing your body and smacking the flesh of your ass generously. In the way he kissed you, you could tell just how much he wanted you; had been wanting you. It seems tonight was the night the seemingly prolonging game of cat and mouse had finally come to an end, falling back down to your knees to unfasten his jeans and take a look at his cock up close and personal.

Your hands carefully pull out his length, a gentle gasp escaping your lips as you behold his length. Who knew the biggest cock in all of Tokyo would belong to such a ruffian? It was so thick and veiny and just the right size. The way his tip leaked of sticky pre-cum made it hard to not suck on it, your lips wrapping around and tasting his skin. Your mouth drools around his cock, slowly bobbing your head up and down just taking half of him. His breathy moans encourage you to start deep throating him, breathing through your nose while he fucks up into your mouth. Draken grabs a fistfull of your hair and pushes your head down, cussing under his breath when you hold that position. You sputter and gag, feeling his pubic hair tickle your nose when a rough tug on your hair pulls you back up, gasping and panting for air.

“God, look at you. Filthy little cock-slut.” Draken groans, spitting down into your open and awaiting mouth with a smirk. “You like suckin’ dick, huh?”

He knows you do. He can tell by the glassiness of your eyes and the smeared lip gloss on your face as spit dripped from your plump lips, you look so dumb right now it was so sexy. A few taps on your jaw brings you back down to earth, slapping his cock against your dripping tongue. You take him back into your mouth again, drooling so much spit starts to wet his jeans. His moans only make you wanna suck him off more, swirling your tongue and lewdly slurping up the spit just to spit it back down onto his slick cock. At this rate, your hot mouth was raring to make him cum; Draken feeling his balls tighten with every glide of your tongue. He pulls you off of his cock again, earning a disappointed whine from you.

“You want me to fuck you? Huh?” He asked you, chuckling darkly when you nod at him with a stupid, cock-stricken look on your face.

“Heh. Yeah you fuckin’ do.”

In a flash he stands you up on your feet and bends you over the leather seat, your hands holding onto the arm rest to keep your balance. You feel him tug down your g-string and hiss when the cool air of the room meets your glistening wet cunt. His big hands grab your hips to slide you down onto his cock, surprised at the sudden fullness you yelp and look back at him. Immediately he’s pounding you out into the loveseat, pressing his thumbs into your lower back as he watched your ass bounce against his lap with every pistoning thrust of his hips. He holds you up against his chest, a hand firmly wrapped around your neck as he nibbles on your earlobe.

“You love this dick don’t you? Tell me you love this dick.” He huffed against your skin, bullying your g-spot so harshly you can hardly even respond to him without hiccuping. Stumbling over your words you reach back and push at his abs, feeling him so deep so quickly it blinds you.

“Y-Yes, yess god yes, ‘s so good! Fuck me, Ken. Harder!” You gasp, getting exactly what you asked for right after you’ve finished babbling to him.

“You’ve been keepin’ this pussy from me too long, yeah? Fuck, you feel so good. Could fuck you all night.”

Your body tightened, a knot forming in your stomach as his veiny cock massaged your gummy walls. The way he fucked you felt like he had been waiting to get his hands on you for the longest time. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t been waiting for this moment too. The sexual tension between the two of you was so intense it became harder and harder not to touch each other. Finally all the pent up frustration was being used to fuck your cervix.

As your eyes roll back, you reach up and grab his wrist, strangled and high pitched moans complimenting the club’s stereo as it drowned out your screams. You feel his cock throbbing furiously inside you and you know he’s getting close too, groaning out in satisfaction in knowing so.

“C’mon baby, cream on my fuckin’ dick. That’s right.” You hear him say, almost too cock-drunk to pay attention to his words. But with one final thrust the both of you are cumming together, feeling him pull out and glaze your ass with his hot and sticky cum. Wiggling your ass, you look back and watch him fuck his large fist to ride out his orgasm as a low groan erupts in his chest watching you shake your ass for him.

“Shit..” He mumbles, smacking your outer thigh when he finally finished dumping his load onto your skin. He reached over and cleaned you up with some tissue that sat on the table next to the champagne, nibbling on your ass cheeks once they were clean. You sigh out of complete satisfaction and lay across the love seat, watching him fix his pants and grab some more money from his duffle bag to sit on the table for your services.

“I’ll be back for you later.” He smirks and slaps your ass on the way out the V.I.P room, meeting up with his crew to tell them all about his favorite little private dancer.

#tokrev smut #tokyo revengers smut #draken smut #— tokyo revengers 💴#draken imagine #tokyo revengers fanfiction

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storiesofsvu · 2 years

Text

Motions

Sonny Carisi x fem reader warnings: language, mentions of alcohol. written for the “late for a date” of @thatesqcrush’s Vday challenge.

When you’d snuck out of work early, rushed home as fast as you could to get yourself all ready and dolled up for tonight, your plan had certainly not included sitting at Lucciola by your lonesome. You knew you’d gotten there a bit early, so you gave Sonny the benefit of the doubt, perusing through the menu and accepting only a glass of water to sip on while you waited.

Half an hour later and you ordered a glass of Malbec, picking up your phone to see if you perchance had missed a text from your boyfriend. When there was nothing but a couple of facebook notifications, you opened up your messages and shot a text off to Sonny.

‘Dinner was tonight, right? Or did I mark the calendar wrong?’

You let out a little sigh as you put your phone back down, thanking the server for the very large glass of wine when they dropped it off. At the very least you could enjoy a drink at the end of a long week, if you didn’t hear from Sonny soon, you’d pick up a pizza on the way back to your apartment. At least then you could change into sweatpants instead of your dress, which was getting more uncomfortable as the evening wore on.

Sipping on your wine you swapped between people watching and playing with your phone. The restaurant was on the fancier side, and you had to admit, the food smelled absolutely delicious. You were starting to rethink not ordering anything as the time passed. The dining room was relatively full, a couple of families with older kids scattered through the room, most looked like they were celebrating someone’s birthday. Aside from that, it was mainly couples, dressed up nice and feeding each other little bites of food, sharing pricey bottles of wine. You rolled your eyes when the man two tables away from you playfully swiped his finger through the whipped cream on their dessert, smearing it over the tip of his date’s nose. You let out a semi audible groan at the high pitched shriek of a giggle she let out at the gesture.

Taking a hefty sip of wine, you checked your phone again. The text had been delivered, but aside from that you couldn’t tell what was going on, and there definitely wasn’t a reply yet. Checking the time, you decided it had been long enough since the first text, shooting off another one to Sonny, this one a little more assertive in case he did happen to be ignoring you. There’d been a bit of a weird vibe coming from him over the past couple of weeks, and you were at that point in your relationship where things were either make it or break it. The stage where sometimes you realized it would just be easier to go your separate ways, that things earlier on had been simply out of convenience rather than actual emotions and attachment.

You checked the time again, then drained your wine, it had been another forty five minutes, Sonny was more than late by now. Letting out a little sigh, you pulled out your wallet, slipping back into your coat to signify that you weren’t sticking around. You had to admit, you were disappointed, the time you had spent with Sonny had been more than good, you’d just let yourself admit it the other week that you were falling in love with him quicker than you’d expected. And you could have sworn you’d heard him say it while you were drifting off to sleep.

Both Sonny and you weren’t exactly words people when it came to love, quality time and little yet significant gifts were how you expressed your emotions, another reason you hadn’t been too worried about the lack of three stupid little words. Sonny would drop off homemade meals at least once a week to make sure you had something to heat up after a long day at work, a flower would pop up on your desk randomly at work. There were pictures of little things around the city that reminded you of each other, memes that were so specific only you would get them, sent back and fourth constantly. As many hours of cuddling as your little heart desired, tangled up in his lanky limbs on the couch while you watched old black and white movie. And the sex? Well, the sex had been incredible, you were definitely bummed to be losing out on that. But, oh well, you told yourself, another lesson learnt.

Finally the server circled back over to the table, and you apologized profusely about taking up their time, making sure that you left a substantial tip.

Across town Sonny spent the entire afternoon in a courtroom sitting through witness after witness that Calhoun had called. He took his time on his crosses, making sure to suck out every drop of insight they had, doing his best to sneak under their skin, read between their words to get them to admit something about the perp that would play more to his hand. He thought he’d been doing a pretty good job at it, managing to get one of them to crack at the very least.

He thought his day was finally over with a bang of the Judge’s gavel signalling the end of session for the day, but Rita always had something else up her sleeve. He’d been swatted with a pile of motions and a piece of evidence defence was going to be bringing in the next day. So instead of getting to leave the courthouse, they were in the Judges chambers, battling through one legal tactic after the next. He pinched at the bridge of his nose, if he didn’t admire Rita for how good she was at her job, he would have killed her by now. Every case he had against her got dragged out three times longer than any other attorney would make it, and she always managed to slip something in to give her a leg up. Finally, they managed to come to an understanding that the Judge accepted and they were able to head to the elevator.

Rita let out a sigh, leaning against the back wall as the doors slid shut, Carisi tossed her a glance as he pulled on his coat, pressing the button for the main floor.

“What?” She half laughed.

“I’m beginnin’ ta realize why Barba always called ya the biggest thorn in his side.”

“I’m just giving my client the best defence they can afford.”

“Right.” He laughed, genuinely at least, “well your client’s a piece of work.”

“Don’t I know it.” She sighed again, “I need a fucking drink. Forlini’s? My treat?” She offered as the elevator dinged and they stepped out of it.

“Maybe.” He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out his phone to check the time, not noticing what was yanked from the pocket at the same time. It was only out of luck that Rita heard it clink as it hit the ground, scooping it up without even missing a beat.

“You know, this is a rather effeminate key chain, even for you?” She teased holding up the solo key. Sonny turned, his brow furrowed at her comment until his eyes settled on the key and the colour drained from his face.

“Shit!”

“What?” She asked, handing him the key back as he swiped at it.

“I knew I was forgetting something!”

“I’m guessing this has something to do with that teacher you’ve been seeing?”

“Yes!” He struggled suddenly with his phone, racing against the clock to turn it on to call you. He found it a terrible distraction in a courtroom and usually turned it completely off while in trial. If the detectives needed him, they knew where to find him. “What time is it?”

“Nearly seven.” Rita replied, glancing at her watch.

“Fuck. I’m over an hour late!” He ran a hand through his hair as they stepped out the front doors, a groan escaping his lips at the dark clouds surrounding Manhattan, heavy rain falling from the sky, “god she’s never gonna say yes now.”

“Is that why you’ve been weird all week?”

“I haven’t been weird this week!” He shot back and she laughed again.

“Kid, you’ve been acting weird, and she could probably sense that. And now it looks like you’ve stood her up…you want a woman’s perspective on this?”

“I can already see where you’re goin’, so no. I just need a cab now.”

“Fat chance.” She muttered, more so to herself, but Sonny knew she was right, he was screwed, the subway would be a mess and take way too long. His phone finally buzzed when it turned on, showing the slew of missed texts, calls and notifications he was distracted, missing Rita flagging down a car. Her hand closed around his elbow and he was jerked out of his panic,

“Wha”-

“Take my car. He’ll drop you off wherever you need to go.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going across the street. I think I’ll be fine. Go get your girl, put on the puppy dog eyes and blame the big bad defence attorney for keeping you here so late.”

She nudged him toward the car and before he could even think about saying thank you, she was darting across the street towards Forlini’s. He clambered into the car, quickly rattling off the name of the restaurant, praying that you were still there, otherwise he’d have a few stops to make on the way to your apartment.

You cursed yourself for not bringing an umbrella, hiding under the restaurant’s awning while you tried to figure out your next step, you’d checked the weather while you were getting ready and knew that rain was going to be a high chance. Then again, the rain was due to stop by eight and you figured you would be partaking in a three course meal, which takes a decent amount of time. Glancing at your phone, you opened the uber app, grumbling when you saw how high the surcharged prices currently were. A few feet away you heard a car pull up, a mumbling of conversation followed by a door slamming shut.

“Oh thank god!” Sonny’s voice rang crystal clear through the air and your head snapped up, your brow furrowing at the sight of him half jogging up to you.

“Are you extremely late? Or did I write the time down wrong?”

“I’m late.” He panted lightly as he stepped under the awning, “I’m so sorry doll.”

“You didn’t have to bother coming all the way down here, a text would’ve been fine.”

“Nah, I wanted to talk to ya…”

“Yeah…I got that much.” You huffed, “Sonny, just rip the bandaid off already, I’m hungry and cold. At this point I would’ve just rather you ghosted me.”

“Wha-? Ghosted..doll no.”

“You said you wanted to talk? And you’ve been weird all week! Somethings up….and you basically stood me up tonight.”

“And there aren’t enough apologies in tha world ta make up for that.” His hand cupped under your chin, turning your face back to his, tilting it upwards so he could catch your gaze. “I turned my phone off for court, and Calhoun had about a hundred extra things she wanted to go through with the judge. I’m so sorry. I should’ve kept a better eye on the time.”

“Okay, so that answers one question.” You tugged your lip into your mouth, daring to look up at him, “what about the other ones? Did I do something? Are you backpedaling?”

“No! Not at all sweetheart.” His hands shifted to grip at your shoulders, giving a little squeeze, “I guess when I said I wanted to talk, I shoulda said that I have something to give you.”

“Oh..Kay?” You raised a brow at his antics, completely unaware what direction this was going now. He shot you a bashful grin and you swore you could see the tips of his ears turn pink as he reached inside his coat, digging around in his pocket for a moment before he presented you with a key flat in his palm. “A key?”

You plucked it out of his hand, a small grin sneaking onto your cheeks as you examined it, your eyes flicking back up to Sonny’s bright blue ones. That adorable stupid grin splayed across his face, the one that made you utterly weak no matter how terrible of a day you’d had.

“I know we don’t say it a lot, but I love you doll. More than anything. I had this whole big thing planned, a speech and everythin’, but…it’s kinda late for that now, so I guess I’ll just ask. Will you move in with me? Or, we can find a different place, a place that’ll be all ours and”—

“Yes!”

You cut him off of his ramblings with a kiss. It took him by surprise, nearly stumbling back into the rain at the sudden impact of your body against his. Then he melted into the embrace, a smile on his lips as they danced with grace against yours, warm and comforting on a chilly night. When you broke the kiss you both had wild grins on your faces, eyes sparkling with the excitement of taking the next step in your relationship.

“I can’t believe I thought you were gonna break up with me.” You laughed, nuzzling deeper into his arms. He dropped a kiss to the top of your head.

“Not in a million years doll.”

“Can I ask you one more question?”

“Yeah.” He shifted so he could see your face again, keeping his arms wrapped around you.

“What’s with the town car?” You nodded toward it, still parked at the curb where Sonny had practically jumped out of it.

“Oh!” He laughed, “Calhoun felt bad that it was technically her fault that I was late, knew I’d never be able to find a cab in this weather.”

“Is it yours for at least the next hour? Cause I’m freezing and starving…and I’m not walking in this rain.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He smiled, pausing to press a tender kiss to your lips before he ushered you into the back of the car.

That night, over Chinese take out and a few beers you and Sonny started going through the big furniture things that you both had, laying out reasonable arguments and voting over which ones were more comfy, and which ones you’d be donating. By the end of the week you had both began dwindling down on your belongings to make sure they’d fit in Sonny’s apartment. By the end of the month you had successfully moved in, boxes still littered around the space as you got fully settled and unpacked. That evening while waiting for take out, came a very lavish housewarming basket, the card signed by Rita Calhoun, an apology for causing so much panic those weeks ago. Sonny appreciated the sentiment immensely…until he saw a motions paper tucked in behind a bottle of wine. You simply laughed, reminding him to thank her next time he saw her in the courthouse halls, pecking him on the cheek as you swiped the wine from his hands, saying you were going to pour out a couple of glasses so you could enjoy your first dinner together in your apartment.

_________ @bisexualcrowley @detective-giggles @teamsladsandgents @stardust-galaxies @averyhotchner @glimmerglittergirl @beccabarba @itsjustmyfantasyroom @qvid-pro-qvo @altsvu @hurricanejjareau @lawandorderimagines @caracalwithchips @mysticfalls01 @bisexual-dreamer02 @mrsrafaelbarba @lila-lola45 @pleasantunknownnacho @ssaic-jareau @barbasbodaciousbeard @alwaysachorusgirl @chasingeverybreakingwave @svushots @nocreditinthestraightworld @australiancarisi @rafivadafreddy @thestarrynightslover @newyorker14 @disn3y7 @sia2raw

#Sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi #thatesqcrushvdaychallenge #sonny carisi fluff #sonny carisi one shot #law and order svu #svu #law and order #fluff

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

Walk Me Home

Summary: Jared is hosting a small dinner party and introduces his new co-star to his old one where they seem to hit it off...

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Square: Quote B “Tell me what I can do to help”

Word Count: 2,600ish

Warnings: language, small accident, mention of smut

A/N: Enjoy! Written for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo!

________

“Hey, sorry I was late,” said a guy ducking in through the front door. You turned your head from where you sat at the counter with Jared, the two of you talking with Gen while they cooked dinner. He smiled when he saw you and you watched the slightly curious look spread across his face. “Hi, I’m Jensen.”

“Y/N,” you said, shaking his hand as he stepped over.

“Oh wow,” he said, looking past you to Jared. You raised an eyebrow and he shook his head. “Sorry, I’m...frazzled right now. You’re gonna be in Walker, right? Jared’s told me a little about you.”

“Yeah. I’ll be playing Kit, Walker’s kid sister,” you said. “Have some bourbon, relax a little.”

“Bourbon? I like her. She can hang out with us,” said Jensen as he walked around the island, getting a glass from the cabinet like he knew where everything was. “Kid sister huh? How many siblings Walker got anyways?”

“Well, I can’t spoil anything but just the two. Not that I’m getting sister of the year award,” you laughed. Gen was smiling as she worked over a pot and Jared excused himself to help her with something. Jensen used some of the orange peel you’d cut up and put it in his drink and took a long sip. “You like it? I can’t cook so I figured I’d bring some booze and dessert.”

“This is good,” he said. “Really good. I want some for myself. Also, did I hear dessert?”

“I made pull apart pumpkin cinnamon bread. It’s like a cinnamon roll but bigger,” you said.

“You and me are gonna get along great,” he chuckled. He moved around the island and stood on the end just to your right, looking you over quickly. “What have you been in? I’ve not heard of you before.”

“Not much. I did one commercial when I was twenty and I was an extra in a TV show about two years after that. I haven’t had my break through yet. Well, until now. This is...this is huge. I’m kind of terrified to be honest.”

“I worked with him for a very long time,” said Jensen, nodding to the far end of the kitchen. “It’s gonna be a good set, good environment. A few people from our old crew are gonna be working on Walker. You’re gonna fit right in no problem.”

“I hope so,” you said. “Jared’s really been great. He even answered all these questions I had about moving down here and areas and stuff when he didn’t have to. He and Gen have been really amazing. I think I’ll be okay.”

“You’ll be fine. He must like you,” he said.

“Oh I’m just...single and know zero people here,” you said. “I might get a dog? I think my apartment allows them.”

“Well now you know me too,” he smirked, taking a sip. “Or getting to know at the very least.”

“So what were you doing?” you asked. He cocked his head and you smiled. “Being late and all.”

“Who says I was late?” he said, smiling back. “Just frazzled. Also late but mostly frazzled.”

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“Not your fault. My ex was claiming she left something at my house. I was oh so thrilled to see her and her husband there to pick it up,” he said.

“Oh. She moved on fast, huh?”

“She started to see him before we were quite done. He’s an idiot that thinks she’s amazing and he’s richer than me so she’s happy. That’s all she wanted. Wish I’d figured that out in the first place. Glad we never married though,” he said. He shrugged but he didn’t seem too upset by it. He finished off his drink and poured another. “Where are you staying?”

“I’m renting a house just north of the city in some suburb. Jared said there’s nothing to the east and the south ain’t great and I can’t afford west so, north it was,” you said.

“North’s not bad. Your commute shouldn’t be too bad. You got a driver or you taking yourself?”

“Myself. I’m not the star or anything.”

“It doesn’t have to do with that. You work a late night, call an uber. Hell call me. Better than getting in an accident,” he said. “By second season, you’ll be making enough to afford one.”

“Assuming I get on in the second season,” you said. You quickly shut your lips, Jared chuckling to himself.

“Jensen worked for the same company for a long time. Don’t worry about your non-disclosure agreement with him,” said Jared. “Y/N might get killed off at the end of the season. We’re not sure yet.”

“This may or may not have an impact on our friendship,” you said with a laugh.

“Oh, come on, Jare. Look at that face. You really gonna kill her off?” said Jensen, turning you towards Jared. You saw Jensen pout and put on one of your own.

“I told you getting those two together would be a good thing,” said Gen. Jared rolled his eyes but bit his bottom lip.

“The powers at be haven’t made up their minds yet. I’d personally love it but storyline might get changed which I’m okay with. If fans love you, I’ll get my way,” said Jared. “You guys want to head out to the patio? We’re almost done cooking.”

“We can help,” you said, Jared shaking his head.

“We got it,” he said. You shrugged and followed Jensen out a back door to a covered patio area and took a seat at the table.

“He’s up to something,” chuckled Jensen. “Not sure what yet.”

“They’re just playing good host,” you said.

“Nah, those two are scheming. I can tell,” he teased. He took the seat beside you and leaned back in his chair.

“You check me out a lot,” you said. He quickly looked at his glass and made a small shrugging motion. “You like me?”

“I don’t know. I barely know you,” he said, still averting your gaze.

“I didn’t mean to make you shy. I’m not opposed to you checking me out. I just wasn’t expecting it. I heard you were dating someone,” you said.

“Rumor. Put it out there so people would leave me alone,” he said. “I’m not shy around you either, you know.”

“Alright.”

“At first I am with most people. I mean, I can act like the life of the party and like the coolest guy in the room.”

“Act would be the key word there,” you said, taking a sip from your glass.

“Yeah well, most people put up some kind of front with strangers or people they don’t know that well.”

“Very true. I do it myself,” you said.

“So like I said, I ain’t shy.”

“Like I said, shy boy is attracted to me. When the confident boy that is really a shy boy is interested, laid back girl will become confident flirty girl very quickly if you understand,” you said.

“Are you saying you’re attracted to me?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Considering you’re attracted to me, I don’t see how this is a problem.”

“You are something else,” he said, some of his confidence returning.

“Yes I-” you said, Jared walking out with his phone to his ear. He looked worried and you both put your full attention on him.

“Shep just fell. He and Tom were jumping off the bunk bed and…” said Jared. “Looks like he might have broken his arm.”

“Is he okay?” you asked, Jensen echoing the sentiment.

“Yeah. We just…”

“Tell me what I can do to help,” you said.

“Everybody relax,” said Jensen as he stood up. “You guys take Shep to get taken care of. Y/N and I will watch the other munchkins.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Dinner’s in the pot on the stove. Eat it up. No need to waste it.”

“Text us to let us know how it goes,” you said.

“Sure thing. I owe you guys one,” he said.

“No, you don’t. Go,” said Jensen. You both ducked back inside and five minutes later they were gone. Tom was feeling pretty bad about what happened but Jensen gave him a talk and put him to bed while you packed away some leftovers for Jared and Gen.

“How’s he doing?” you asked, sticking the tupperware in the fridge.

“He’ll be alright. Wasn’t his fault. They were just being kids,” he said. He helped you find the plates and you dished yourself up the rest of the food, eating at the kitchen counter quietly. “That was nice of you, to be so concerned.”

“They’ve been nothing but kind to me. Besides, it’s a kid,” you said. “I don’t mind staying.”

“You don’t have to. They’re both fast asleep. I can stay until they get back.”

“I said I’d stay. I’m gonna stay,” you said. He licked his lips and hummed, cleaning up his plate before you.

“Say you had a point earlier. I’m not saying you did but hypothetically speaking,” he said.

“Go on.”

“Say my frazzledness was because when I saw you, my head sort of short-circuited, hypothetically.”

“Hypothetically,” you said, finishing with your food.

“Say that happened and say you were good with that, happy about that...where exactly would this go seeing as I hypothetically have never been the hook up guy. Never actually done it but I’m now questioning it for the first time. Hypothetically, what’d your response to that be?”

“Well, if that were the case,” you said as you took your plate and put it in the dishwasher, “I would tell you not to hookup with me simply for the fact that sex for you is very likely part of being in a relationship and something you do when you feel comfortable with a person which I completely respect and understand. I wouldn’t want you to change how you treat sex just for me. Hypothetically.”

“But what if I said I’d never felt that kind of attraction to anyone before, at any stage in a relationship, not to that level. Not that floor you kind of overwhelming sensation.”

“I would tell you the attraction is reciprocated and while I would very much like to see what you are capable of and what we’re capable of doing together, I would tell you that you’re not the hookup guy and you’re not about to start being one. You should continue to have sex with your romantic partners and that’s all. It means more to you. A hookup will leave a sour taste in your mouth and I’d rather we don’t think of each other like that seeing as we’ll likely be spending more time together.”

“It’s not just physical you know. It’s that, it’s that logic and that kindness and compassion.”

“I get it. I would. I really, really would. But I’m breaking your record. I don’t want to be the girl that breaks that record, Jensen.”

“If we dated though, that’s different.”

“I don’t date to get sex.”

“Neither do I.”

“So you want to date?” you asked. He leaned back against the counter and smiled to himself. “It’s an easy question.”

“I wanted to date you the second I saw you but that comes off as a little strong,” he said.

“I personally believe it’s important that people click when it comes to dating and relationships,” you said.

“So is there a click?” he asked. You walked in front of him and smiled, bringing your lips just an inch away from his.

“There’s a click but there’s got to be something else,” you said, Jensen’s lips parting. “After my last failed relationship and it sounds like yours too, it’s important.”

“What’s that?” he asked quietly, not moving an inch.

“I want to be friends with my next boyfriend, someday when I find whoever I’m gonna be with. It’s always miserable when you’re not friends,” you said.

“Who says you didn’t just meet your best friend for the rest of your life tonight,” he said.

“Now that’s a strong statement,” you said.

“It is. I don’t like the sentiment though that there’s gonna be a somebody else after me. I’m not filling time with this,” he said.

“Neither am I,” you said.

“Good,” he said. He leaned in a hair closer and his lips tugged up into a grin. “I’m going to heat up that pumpkin roll you brought and then play video games while not kissing you. I’d be very happy if you joined in.”

“Tease,” you said. You took a step back and went to the container you brought. “Can you preheat the oven for me?”

“Sure thing,” he said. “It looks amazing.”

“It’s not the only thing,” you said, flashing him a wink.

“I see how it’s gonna go.”

“You started it,” you said.

“Yes, yes I did. Now how high do you need it?”

Four Hours Later

“Thanks again guys,” said Jared as you and Jensen stepped outside.

“It was no problem. We saved dinner and dessert for you guys in the fridge,” said Jensen.

“I’ll make something for Shep and drop it by. He like chocolate?” you asked.

“Yeah, he loves it. You really don’t have-”

“Jared, like Jensen said, it’s all good. We’ll see you,” you said.

“Alright, alright,” he said. “Tell me when you two get together.”

“Already late on that one,” said Jensen with a smirk. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“You better. Night guys. And take her home like a gentleman,” said Jared.

“Yeah, yeah. Night,” said Jensen. Jared locked up and you wandered over to your car, Jensen smiling as he stood by his truck. “So I guess this is good night.”

“It could be a good night,” you said as you started to yawn. “Maybe tomorrow though.”

“Tomorrow maybe,” he smirked. “Text me when you get home.”

“Why?”

“Cause I worry about my friends,” he said. “Please?”

“Alright. So...tomorrow…”

“Tomorrow night,” he said. “Maybe I can cook you dinner. Bring a bathing suit, we could go for a dip in the pool maybe.”

“Maybe,” you smirked back. “I’ll see you tomorrow Jensen.”

“You too. Oh and Y/N? Might want to sleep in tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“I got a feeling you’re gonna be up late tomorrow night,” he said, winking at you.

“Oh really? We’ll have to see how a good a cook you are first.”

“I guess we will. Drive safe, Y/N,” he said, voice soft and sweet.

“You too, Jensen. You too.”

_______

#spn #tell me a story bingo #supernatural #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #rpf #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #au #jensen ackles x reader #one shot

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tpwkay · 3 years

Text

Medicine (h.s.)

You’re finally given permission to cover the song you’ve wanted to perform for years and a special surprise during your performance sweeps you off of your feet.

Word count: 11.5k

Rating/warnings: NSFW - A lot of this is plot but there is smut as well. Contains explicit language and consensual sex acts between a man and woman. This is a story written in the 2nd person (“self insert"). This isn’t written to be exclusionary, it’s just my preferred style! Author’s note can be found at the end!

"Ladies and gentlemen, I cannot thank you enough for coming out tonight to listen to me and the band. We've got a couple more songs coming up for you but I just wanted to take a minute to tell y'all how much we appreciate you." You gesture to yourself and the band behind you as the lights on stage come up a bit. "We wouldn't be where we are without your support. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you!"

The crowd cheers and you can't help but experience an insurmountable feeling of joy. It never gets old. You'd been in the spotlight for a few years now, already at the end of touring your second album, though the size and scope of venues this time around was much, much larger. There was nothing that compared to being able to sing your own songs and have a crowd of thousands scream them right back at you.

Being an up-and-coming singer and songwriter in the genre of country music hadn't been easy. Girls your type had been a dime a dozen, hoards of Taylor Swift-wannabes covering "Teardrops on My Guitar" during open mic night. You held nothing against them; there was a path to success for everyone, but yours had been, well, different.

It was a karaoke cover of Brooks & Dunn's "Boot Scootin' Boogie", a song that you'd been singing since you were a toddler, that had gotten you noticed by a recording artist one night while out with your girlfriends, which led you to where you stand now, performing in front of thousands. You were liked for the range of your voice, with it's easy easy transitions from the sounds of pop to country and rock, in addition to the way you performed, and your take-no-shit attitude towards the entirety of the industry. People liked that you were forward and left nothing on the table, though you had to admit that it was mostly an act, a means of coping with the pressure of working your way to the top.

///

"It's refreshing!" Jax, your manager, had shouted one day, arms flailing as you had argued that maybe your attitude was going to get you into trouble one of these days.

"Aren't you, as, you know, my manager, supposed to be the one keeps me in line?"

"You aren't out doing coke, killing anyone, public indecency and all that," he had shrugged. "Far as I'm concerned, you are in line. People talk about you because of your attitude. They like it! They like you. Why is that so hard for you to accept sometimes?"

"Maybe I just haven't been caught doing those things," you grinned, effectively dodging his question. Fame hadn't helped break down the walls that you'd long ago built around yourself. If anything, you had done some reinforcing, built a moat even, in an effort to ensure that you protected yourself from getting too close to anyone that would only end up using you in the end. You had seen the way people in life had been used, and what it ultimately led them to, and you had promised yourself long ago that even if it meant being known as the Boot Scootin' Bitch, you would protect yourself and your heart at all costs.

"Your momma would tan your hide for much less than any of those, you know. Hell, you should be more afraid of her than you are of me or anyone else… 'cept maybe God."

///

You shake your head, working the memories free from your mind as you grab a bottle of water from the platform on which the drum set rests.

There's one more song of yours to sing before you performed a new cover, the one you had been looking forward to for months. Although you'd gotten permission to perform it not long into the start of your tour, the set list had been rehearsed already and every other detail ironed out around it. You'd convinced Jax and the crew to let you slot it into the last concert of the tour, Austin, Texas. These folks knew their music and for some reason, they liked you so you were thrilled to be able to share something new with the crowd that had welcomed you to their city with open arms.

You grab your guitar off its stand and slide the strap over your shoulders, adjusting it as you step forwards to the mic stand. A shimmering blue shirt catches your eye in the crowd and you do a double take because surely it can't be Harry because he's—

And it's not him, of course, though the fashion of the gentleman in the pit area would surely catch his eye as well as it's right up his alley. It's not him - it can't be him - because you know exactly where he is right now and it's not in the pit of your Austin performance.

A grin stretches over your face as you think of him. You strum the first chord of the first song you'd ever written about him, although there had been many more since. He probably knew this one was about him, having come just after your first meeting.

///

A friend of yours was good friends with Kacey, who had been the guest artist that night. Her name had been added to the VIP list and in the summer of 2018, just as you were hitting your own stride in your career, you tagged along with her to Harry Styles' live tour performance in your hometown of Nashville.

If you were being honest, prior to his concert, you hadn't heard much of his solo work, apart from the various huge hits like his Kiwi or Watermelon Sugar and a few other ballads. You liked his sound, seemingly influenced heavily by rock stars of days past, but you'd had other influences to worry about in your own side of the industry.

Sure, he had country music connections through the likes of Kacey Musgraves and Cam, and legends like Stevie Nicks, but his pop and soft rock style was pretty far removed from most country playlists that you yourself had graced. Your genres just didn't cross paths and the two of you seemingly operated in different realms of the music industry, topping your own charts and breaking your own peer's records.

Of course, you hadn't been completely oblivious to The Harry Styles. One Direction had been too big of a deal to ignore and you'd often found yourself bopping along to their old hits, singing along as they played amongst the other nostalgic pop hits to which you listened.

The concert had been in June, a hot sunny day followed by a perfect breezy evening. Downtown Nashville was always busy, but that night the city seemed to buzz, bright with music and life. After meeting for drinks at Acme on the River, you allowed yourself to luxuriate in getting lost in the crowd that milled about on Broadway. It was a surprising thing to not be recognized in your hometown, but you weren't one to complain about it. It was one reason that you value your time in Nashville over other music-centric cities like Los Angeles - it seemed that people here respected the private lives of musicians. There was an odd fan here and there, but you'd lived a majority of your "famous" life in Nashville in relative peace.

You were early to the venue, your friend having wanted to have a chance to see Kacey backstage. You were excited to finally meet the star - though you'd been around the block of fame a bit already, there would always be people that you never had an opportunity to meet in passing. You had been greeted at will call and had been led backstage.

The arena was alive with excitement. At that point, you yourself had never toured a venue that large, so the experience of being backstage and seeing the operations first hand were thrilling and a bit overwhelming. In her dressing room, Kacey pulled you straight into a hug, gushing about how excited she was to watch your career take off. She insisted on sharing her personal cell phone number with you, urging you to call her to get together on a collaboration. You were in shock leaving her room, blown away by her kindness and the way the music industry worked in the most bizarre of ways, when you turned a corner and ran smack into a tall, solid, smiling Harry Styles. His arms had come out quickly to steady you on your heels boots.

"Fuck," you swore, shaking your head at your clumsiness. "I am so sorry. What a great way to introduce myself."

He laughed and the sound flowed through you, warm and sweet like a cup of tea with honey. "Y'alright?" His eyes looked you over, and you couldn't help but notice the way they lingered.

Your cheeks blushed and a wave of embarrassment washed over you. "I'm the one that should be asking you that. I don't think your adoring fans would be very happy if I took you out with a textbook tackle right before you're due to go on stage." You took a moment to give him the same appreciative glance he had already given you, admiring the way his deep blue custom-beaded suit jacket fell open to reveal a black dress shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest.

"Ah, 'm fine. Lil' thing like you couldn't do too much damage to me, even in those heels. Don't think they'd be very happy though," he said, nodding his head in acknowledgement of the already-rowdy crowd while offering his hand. "I'm Harry."

You laughed as you introduced yourself, shaking his hand.

"I've heard that name before, but I'm sorry to say that I don't recognize you. You don't seem like one that's easy to forget."

"I sing, write music," you shrugged, not sure how to explain to a superstar that you were on the way up, yet still somewhere much farther down the fame totem pole than him. "Country, mostly. Not sure if that's on your radar."

"The new stuff's not, but I may have to change that." He was tapped by one of the event producers, needed for another pre-show procedure. "Where will you be tonight?"

"To your right, in the pit."

He smiled and you had almost immediately fallen in love with the crinkles that appeared under the corners of his eyes. "I'll look out for you. It was wonderful meeting you. Oh, shit, wait, just remembered— may I?" he gestured for the phone that was in your hand and you unlocked it before passing it to him.

You watched as he dialed a number and put the phone to his ear. He paused for a moment before he grinned. "Hi Harry, it's you from before the show. This is a message to remind you to text this number and ask the owner of it out on a date. She's the one with the beautiful smile and great tackling skills. You won"t have forgotten her. 'Kay, bye!"

You laughed at an almost embarrassing volume, blown away by his cheek.

"Why not ask 'her' out now?" you pondered to him as he handed the phone back.

"What, and risk getting shot down? Wouldn't want to be sad and disappointed through my whole show, now would I?"

"It would make the ballads a bit more emotional," you had reasoned with a grin.

"Ouch! They're already filled with emotion, love. You'll see, I'll sing 'em right to you if I have to. Gotta run, thank you for letting me use your phone, that was a very important message!"

You laughed again as he took off. "Harry!" you had shouted to get his attention in the busy hall. He turned quickly, a small smile on his face. "She definitely won't say no, but you can wait until later to ask if you want to."

His grin stretched wider and he'd pumped a fist in the air before turning and jogging down the hallway.

You liked to joke with anyone who knew the story that your life had changed that day all because you met Kacey. Which wasn't a complete lie - it had been her dressing room you'd come out of before slamming into Harry in the hallway.

///

Singing the last lines of one of your songs, your stomach began to flutter in a bit of nervousness and a lot of excitement. Performing the next cover was something you had been looking forward to for months, and the moment that you got to share it with your fans was finally here.

You retreat from the mic stand to pass your guitar off to a stagehand, taking another sip of water to settle yourself.

"Doing alright?" Wyatt, your drummer, shouts over the pounding bass drum and you give him a thumbs up before turning back to face the crowd.

"I've got one more cover to play for y'all tonight," you say, grasping the mic stand to keep your hands from shaking. "I've been working on getting permission to play this one for quite awhile now. I fell in love with it the first time I heard it played and now here I am, performing it for you all. It's an unreleased piece by a very, very good friend of mine, but his performances of it are all over the internet so some of you may know the words. This song is called Medicine."

The song starts out with a steady bass line and the rhythm centers you a bit, steadying any nerves that still linger. The intro gives you a minute to shake out your shoulders and get comfortable at the mic stand once more like Harry does at each performance. You catch yourself having fun mimicking him and feel thankful that you're able to perform one of your favorite songs of his. When the bass drops in pitch and the electric guitar riffs, you slide in close to the mic stand.

"Here to take my medicine, take my medicine," you sang the opening lines, already settling into the sexy rock sound of the song you and the band had rehearsed relentlessly over the last few weeks. No, the genre wasn't one you normally dabbled in, but part of the fun of performing was taking chances, risks. You had to admit, you liked the sound a lot. It tempted you to branch out a bit more on your upcoming album.

The opening lines of the first verse throw you back into thoughts of meeting Harry that first night. You hadn't imagined what would follow the concert, let alone have the foresight to see it bringing you to this very moment in time.

///

You had been standing outside the arena after the concert, ears buzzing and heart thumping still from the incredible show Harry had put on. As soon as he disappeared from the backstage hall earlier, you had immediately saved his number to your phone, still in disbelief over the night's events.

Your heart had soared when your phone began to vibrate, not in a text message but in a voice call. Harry's name appeared on the screen and your friend had nudged you, clearly approving of the night's turn of events.

"Harry," you answered, ready to praise him halfway to Sunday on his performance.

"Let me take you out," he interrupted you. "Right now. Please? Anywhere you want to go."

You laughed and paused. "Yeah, okay. I might know of a place."

There was a lot of shuffling on his end before his voice came back on the line. "Might've had to do another fist pump."

"Told you she wouldn't say no."

"Where are you?" You heard the smile in his voice, already familiar with it.

"Demonbreun and John Lewis, headed towards the park."

"Give me 10, I'll pick you up." He paused. "Be careful, okay?"

"I'll stick with the hoards of your fans milling about, maybe ask some of them for the hot gossip on you while I wait."

"Don't believe anything they say," he said, and you could tell he was still smiling as he hung up.

He and his driver arrived shortly after, Harry's hair damp and covered with a baseball cap, dressed down in black pants and a simple loose white shirt, tattoos peeking out everywhere you looked. He exited the car and opened the back door for you, helping you balance as you stepped up into the large Suburban.

"We'll go to Pecker's," you said to his driver, laughing as Harry snorted next to you. "Shut up, it's just a bar. Take a right up here onto 24 and it'll take us all the way to Fairfield. It'll be on the right."

He looked at you and smiled before reaching out to hold your hand in the middle seat between you.

Taking Harry to Pecker's had just felt right. It was where you'd been discovered, where all of your adventures had started, and you weren't sure why but you wanted to share that small part of you with him after watching him up on stage that night.

"Won't people recognize you? I looked you up before the show, you're apparently a pretty big deal around here." He had asked, smirking, sipping on the locally-brewed beer that Clint, the regular bartender, was serving that night.

"Locals are pretty good about not interrupting our normal lives. Pecker's isn't as well known to tourists either, so it's a good hideout. This is where a lot of producers, executives and all the other professionals come to unwind." You ignored his comment on your fame and had taken a sip of your margarita instead. "Unless, of course, there's a drag show scheduled, then it's a bit of a madhouse."

Harry laughs into his drink and you grin. "So," he started after a pause, twiddling with the rings on his right hand. "What'd you think?"

"It was incredible," you said without hesitation. "Truly one of the best live shows I've seen in a long time, country acts included. You've got such a magnetism about you that people can't help but want to watch." You blushed a bit, alcohol and the quick comfort of him loosening your lips. "The whole water spraying trick was hot," you admit, making him blush. "And don't tell Stevie, but I think I might prefer your version of The Chain."

"Sacrilege! That's some incredibly high praise," he said, a small smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.

"Earned and deserved," you said, tilting your glass to his. "Honestly, Harry, you're an incredible musician. There aren't many out there that have the whole package like that."

"What about you? You seem like the whole package."

"I don't know if I'd say that. If you looked me up, you've likely seen what they say about me. 'My attitude won't get me far' and all. But I don't think it's my attitude, so much as it is my willingness to take the risks that others won't. I'm not out here to make music that's just there to be sold. Hell, I couldn't care less about the money. All I want is to create music that makes me feel fulfilled, and I think that honesty scares them." You twirled your finger in the condensation of the glass in front of you. You glanced up to his face finding his eyes already on yours, holding your gaze steadily. "It doesn't scare you, does it?"

"It's the most refreshing thing I've heard in a while. Not many people in the industry are fearless in the face of failure like that."

"I'm definitely not fearless; I just refuse to change who I am to make a buck."

"Who are you then?" Harry had asked, and telling him your story was easy. You couldn't understand how it was so natural, opening up to a stranger, but as the conversation wore on, you realized how similar you and Harry were in terms of the way you conducted your professional lives and that was without apology.

And you also realized, as the evening continued and you and Harry crept your bar stools closer and closer to one another, feet and knees bumping, his fingers tracing the ridges of your knuckles as you shared life stories like long lost friends, that you didn't want it to end.

///

"He's acting like a gentleman," you continue, changing up the lyrics slightly as you finish the first verse. The line always made you smile and you let yourself briefly flash back into your reminiscing about the night you'd met Harry, and how, even though he had acted gentlemanly upon dropping you off for the evening, you wanted to be anything but a gentlewoman.

///

After enjoying drinks late into the evening at Pecker's, Harry had insisted on having his driver take you home rather than allowing you to call an Uber.

"Such a gentleman," you commented as he opened the car door for you once again.

"Maybe my gentlemanly actions have motives," he said, sliding his hand along your lower back as you step past him and into the car. Your grin matched his smirk as he shut the door and you decided that he'd been right - not calling an Uber was the right thing to do.

The car ride back to your apartment building was too quick and before you knew it, he was at your door again, offering a hand for you to hold for balance as you exited the car. Neither of you let go as you walked through the lobby towards the elevators.

"You're uh— You're welcome to come up, if you'd like," you said, suddenly shy but not wanting to chicken out on asking for what you wanted, asking for some continuation of this sweet but likely brief meeting between you two. "For a drink, I mean, or to keep chatting, you know."

Harry smiled and glanced around the empty lobby. His hand in yours smoothed up the length of your arm, over your shoulder, and came to rest at your jaw. "I'd love to, believe me. You have no idea how much I want to." He leaned towards you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead and your skin burned at the contact of his lips. "But I want to do this the right way. Don't want you to get the wrong idea of me."

"What if I want the wrong idea of you?"

He laughed, the sound open and honest and it had given you hope. "You called me a gentleman earlier and I have to admit that I liked it, coming from you. Would like to keep up the facade that I am, even if it's just for a bit." His face searched yours, each of you trying to read the thoughts that were flying through one another's minds. "You have beautiful lips," he whispered suddenly, his accent thicker than it had been all night.

Your mouth quirked into a smile, unable to do anything but preen at his compliment. "You do too," you replied, just as softly.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please, yes." Before the words had settled he was kissing you, slowly and with too much care, like you would break if he wasn't gentle enough. It was over much too quick but you knew you would remember every moment of it for the rest of your life.

"Christ, I'd wanted to do that all night." His thumb smoothed over your cheekbone, smiling when you leaned into the touch. He glanced up as the elevator doors swung open and gently nudged you towards them. "Thank you, truly, for a wonderful evening. I promise to give you a call soon."

"I'll send Kacey after you if you don't!" you laughed, stepping into the lift.

"Good night darling." He winked and the doors slid shut, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the delicious ghost of his lips on yours.

///

"Give me that adrenaline, that adrenaline, think I'm gonna stick with you," you finish the first verse as Ryann rips through the chords on her guitar. You loved that the song built slowly, and even though that meant a quieter beginning, it promised an explosive end.

Though the crowd had been hesitant at first, you can see that the first few rows of them are nodding along, countless phones out recording the performance. You know that somewhere out there at your request is a member of your press team, professionally filming the cover. You may only be doing it once, but you were determined to make sure you would never forget it.

///

You had enough time at home to check some of your social media accounts, shower and get comfortable in bed before your phone rang again. For the second time that day, your heart soared seeing Harry's name light up your screen.

"If you're going to say that you're downstairs because you've reconsidered my offer for that nightcap, I'll need a few moments to prepare as I'm currently in my pajamas," you said as a greeting and you were met with his warm laughter once again.

"No, no, I had to go back to the arena for a bit anyways, pack up and all of that," he said, still chuckling. "I just— I wanted to make sure you weren't offended by me declining your offer. Because I wanted to— I didn't want the night to end there. There's something about you that's… Transfixing. And I don't want to ruin that and make you think you're just a fling."

"That's quite a compliment," you said, a bit awed by his words.

"What was it you said earlier, "earned and deserved", yeah?" He said, quoting your toast to him at the bar, making you grin. "I want you to be more than that. I'd like to get to know you, the gentlemanly way."

"Okay. Will we have a chaperone at our next date then?" He laughed but didn't correct your referral to that evening as a date. You had snuggled a bit deeper into the sheets, still disbelieving that all of this had been the result of being dragged along to a concert.

"No chaperones," he chuckled, "but yes, I do want to take you out again, if you'd let me."

"Hmm," you jokingly pondered aloud, as if answering with anything other than a resounding "yes" was on your mind. "I suppose I could fit something into my schedule."

"I hope that's a yes."

"Of course it's a yes! I didn't want the night to end either. And don't you dare say that you just did another fist pump," you had laughed, hearing the familiar shuffling of the phone on his end of the line.

"Me? Never!"

"You're adorable," you had said, a smile stuck on your face.

"And you're beautiful. Two can play this game."

There had been a comforting silence between you for a moment before you had spoken up again. "Harry?"

"Yeah, love?"

You had blushed at the pet name but loved the way it sounded being directed your way. "Thank you," you had whispered.

"Should be me thanking you. Sleep well sweetheart." You'd fallen asleep with your phone in hand, hopeful that you wouldn't wake up the next morning to realize it had all been a dream.

///

It hadn't been a dream, and here you were, nearly two years later, performing one of the songs that Harry himself had sung the night that you'd begun falling for him.

The second verse continued quickly and you let the lyrics wash over you as you sang, loving the way the rock energy of the song sounded with a bit of your band's country influence.

"Here to take my medicine, take my medicine, rest it on your fingertips," you sang, holding your pointer finger in the air much like Harry did every time he performed the song before bringing it to your lips as you sang the next line. "Up to your mouth, feeling it out, feeling it out."

///

Beginning to date Harry - properly date him too, not just make FaceTime calls to one another from across the world and sending texts back and forth until the wee hours of the morning thanks to the differences in time zones, sharing everything and more with one another as best you could digitally - had been the most exhilarating experience of your life, and you had performed in front of sold out crowds and accepted awards on live television. His tour was due to stretch on for almost another month throughout North America and the next time you saw him was when you'd been invited as Harry's guest to his show in Chicago just a few weeks after you'd met.

While he had put on an incredible show for the United Center, there had been moments that felt like he was performing just for you, glancing over to where you stood in the Friends and Family area, meeting your eyes and grinning. By that point, you could sing along to every song of his and you knew he loved it, loved watching you dance along to the music that he had created and was performing.

In a moment where you were thankful for the differences between the genres in which you two performed, you hadn't been recognized at all by his fans. You'd both talked about wanting to keep things quiet as you got to know one another, and you hadn't wanted a relationship with him, an already incredibly famous artist, to somehow influence the trajectory of yours. While it had been easy when you were apart, being together without seemingly being together was difficult. Especially in that moment, when all you wanted to do was curl up into him and soak in the post-show bliss with him. Instead, you sat on the couch with him, a cushion apart from one another, holding his hand tightly while you chatted about the concert.

"Someone is gonna notice that you looked to my side of the pit constantly all night," you said and he grinned guiltily.

"I like knowing you're in the crowd," he shrugged. "Besides," he scooted closer and threw his arm around you before dragging you in close, "you look incredible, how could I not want to stare at you all night?"

"Anyone could walk in," you pointed out, watching as his eyes followed your lips.

"Just want a little taste," he said, moving in closer, "Haven't I earned a kiss from my girlfriend after all of that work up on stage?"

Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you looked at him and he seemingly realized his slip-up.

"I mean— What I meant was— Shit," he scrubbed a hand over his face but you could tell he was hiding a grin. "Wasn't exactly how I wanted to ask you, but… Will you officially be my girlfriend?"

"Yes, H. I'm all yours."

"Love it when you call me H." He pulled you in for a kiss that you both lost yourselves in, finally able to experience the feeling of one another after being denied it for so long. When a knock at the dressing room door came, Harry had to all but drag himself away from you, hair disheveled and lips swollen, scowling at the door.

You threw your head back and laughed as he stalked over and pulled it open with a flourish.

"What?"

"The hell's your issue?" you heard Mitch ask before Harry widened the door so he could see you laughing on the couch. You raised a hand in greeting and Harry's scowl deepened as Mitch chuckled, taking in both of your disheveled appearances. "Oh, shit, hey, sorry. Uh, car's ready when you are. See you tomorrow bud."

"Harry!" you chided once he'd closed the door in Mitch's face, giggles still bubbling out of your mouth. "He was just being polite."

"Interrupting arse is what he is," Harry said, sitting down and pulling you into his lap. "Where were we?"

You threw your arms around his neck and pressed your body as close to his as possible, hoping that he'd thought to lock the door before returning to your embrace. "Right about here, I think." With a hand on your hip, sliding under your shirt to reach warm skin and one at the back of your neck, Harry kissed you until you were breathless and not only wanting more but very seriously needing it.

"Come back to the hotel with me," he murmured against your lips as you ground your body down on him, reveling in the way the action made him throw his head against the back of the couch and exhale sharply.

"You sure?" Your hands smoothed over the chest of his skin, tracing the dark swallows with your fingertips as you rolled your hips.

He shuddered at the light touch and gripped your hips tightly, pressing his up as you pressed yours down and the action made you sigh, the pressure a delicious tease of what was hopefully to come. "Absolutely," he said, his grin telling you he was pleased with the noises he was causing you to make. "Want you so bad, like I won't be able to breathe right until I properly have you."

You leaned in to kiss at his neck, his shower-damp curls tickling your cheek. "The feeling is mutual. Adored watching you up on stage tonight. Have I told you yet how much I love seeing you perform?" You nuzzle at his neck, urging him to tilt his head back farther, exposing more of his skin to you.

"Yeah, you have, but tell me again," he sighed, his hands running up and down your back.

"It's like when you get on stage no one else before or after you matters," you said honestly, letting your lips against his skin hide how truthful you were really being, spilling all of your thoughts about seeing Harry up on stage. It was scary, feeling so deeply for him already. But you wanted him to know, at least in part, what it meant to be able to watch him perform. "Something about your live voice just makes my breath catch in my throat, I can't get enough of it."

Harry breathed deeply for a moment, working to center himself while you nosed at the curls around his ear and heaped praise upon him.

"It's like you connect with every person out in the crowd, like you're singing just for them. You can tell that you're having fun and people want to join you in that. They know you love the attention," you whispered and he hummed in appreciation (or agreement), the sound low in his throat. "They'd stay out there all night for if they could, screaming about how much they love you."

"And you feed into it, playing it up for them. You know exactly what you're doing when you get to act a little bit naughty up there, driving them all mad," you said with a smile.

He chuckled and you could hear and feel the sound rumble through him. "Played it up for you tonight. Did it work?"

"You mean did it make me want to jump your bones the second you came off stage? Yeah, it worked."

"Fucking hell," he said, holding you close with his hands on your butt as he stood up. "Our first time is not going to be in a dressing room so we need to go now."

He let you slide down his body and held you steady as you balanced on your legs. "Would be pretty fitting though, don't you think, given how we met and what we do?"

"Yeah, but then I'd think about it every time I was in one. You wanna torture me relentlessly?" He pulled you tight against him, kissing you once more before separating to grab his bags.

"Yeah, relentless torture sounds like something I might be into."

He glanced up at your words, eyes dark and hungry, a smirk on his lips. "Careful what you wish for, love."

///

The bass line increased behind the riff of Ryann's guitar and you leaned into the mic stand, eyes closing as you continued singing the first bridge. "I had a few, got drunk on you and now I'm wasted, and when I sleep I'm gonna dream of how you…"

There were a few fans of yours and Harry's who apparently knew the words as they helped you out, screaming the unwritten word that finished the sentence: "tasted."

///

Harry was quick to say goodbye to everyone on the team before pulling you quickly through back hallways and down quiet staircases, sneaking quick kisses when he was sure there was no one around. You were both out of breath when you finally climbed into the car, grinning like kids getting away with sneaking around.

The hotel ride was quick, mercifully, but Harry had been anything but patient, his hand at your knee creeping up slowly, closer and closer to the hem of your dress, toying with the hem while he chatted with the driver.

"I'm gonna head in first with Martin and Eric will loop around and drop you off at the side entrance. I would wait in the lobby for you but this hotel hasn't been the best in the past with uh— containing sensitive information, we'll say, so Martin will meet you on your floor to get your stuff, then bring you up. Is that okay?"

"You sound like you've done this before, Styles," you said with a wink, using humor to cover the nerves that had settled in the pit of your stomach.

He blushed and you loved knowing you got under his skin so easily. "The band used to stay here when we toured… and I was young and dumb once, yes."

"Just giving you a hard time, H."

His grin stretched as he leaned over to peck your lips once more. "See you in a minute, love."

Harry climbed out and the driver took off once again, slowly circling the block. "He's quite taken with you, you know," he said, glancing up in the rear view mirror as he parked the car at the curb. He got out and opened the door for you in the empty street then used his keycard to unlock the heavy side door of the hotel.

"Thank you," you said, both for his actions and his omission about Harry. Sure, you had talked to him as often as possible over the last weeks and had yourself been on the receiving end of his attention, but it felt validating to hear that Harry's feelings for you may have gone a bit farther than just a small crush if people around him had also noticed his behavior.

Harry's bodyguard was waiting by the elevators and escorted you to your room to gather your luggage, then led you to Harry's door.

"Car'll be around about 9 tomorrow morning, H. Flight's at 10:30." He turned to you. "I understand you have business to continue here in Chicago?"

"Yes, meetings tomorrow and then I fly back to Nashville in the evening."

"There'll be a driver ready for you tomorrow as well. He's been instructed to take you wherever you need to go and he'll stay until you depart. Have a nice evening," he nodded at Harry, who was smiling in the doorway, before departing.

"You didn't have to do that for me, I could've managed by getting an Uber," you said, stepping into the room past Harry to set your bags down and kick your shoes off.

"I didn't, was Martin's idea; says he doesn't want anything to happen to the one thing that's made me so happy these last few weeks."

"Oh yeah? I'm the one thing, huh?"

"You're everything, honestly," he replied a bit sheepishly, taking your hands in his. "Think I might like you a bit more than I already should. Lettin' my heart get a bit ahead of my head, I suppose."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," you said softly and he beamed.

He moved his hands up to cup your face, pulling you close for a sweet kiss that quickly turned insistent, heat rising between the two of you. Harry slid his hands under the hem of your shirt to rest where your spin ended and yours wrapped around his neck, dragging him down to you as you stepped behind you towards the bed. His long legs tangled with yours and you tumbled backwards, laughing as you hit the plush bed and Harry collapsed on top of you.

He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at you with a smile, pushing the hair that had fallen into your face aside. "Hi baby," he said softly.

"Hi."

"Missed you," he said, leaning down for another sweet kiss.

"We were apart for like, eight minutes," you giggled between his kisses, your laughter giving way to a sigh as he moved to press a kiss to your nose, your cheek, your chin.

"Doesn't matter," he breathed into the crook of your neck, pressing small open mouth kisses to the soft skin there, "Any time apart is too long."

"The two weeks left of the tour will fly by. You should enjoy them while you can."

"Wish you could come with me, love performing for you." He kissed his way across the base of your neck, collarbone to collarbone as his fingers trailed to the small straps on your shoulders. "Would you like to take this off?"

"Please," you sighed, desperate and aching for the feeling of his skin against yours.

Your first time sleeping with Harry had been exactly what you'd wanted and expected - hot and fast, admittedly over a bit more quickly than either of you had wanted, but worth the weeks of wait.

Harry's skill set hadn't ended at singing and playing instruments. If anything, his vast experience using his hands and mouth only helped him excel in other pastimes that also utilized those parts of his body. To both of your delights, he had proven his adeptness in all areas multiple times that night, and once again in the morning before he had to rush into the shower, dragging you along with him simply to get more time together before you were forced apart once again.

///

You had spent the next two months away from one another, Harry having wrapped his tour and immediately beginning work on his next album. You'd spent your own time mixed between writing and recording an upcoming single. You had already written a handful of songs that were inspired by him and you'd wondered, albeit a bit nervously, if the sentiment was shared. When he stopped in Nashville on a long layover, pushing his flight back even longer to stay with you for another night, you'd tried to pry the information out of him. Unfortunately, no amount of sexual teasing or denial had convinced him — he, however, had you singing like a canary almost immediately, teasing you in the best way about how easily you opened up for him, telling him all about the music that he had already inspired.

You had been FaceTiming him late one night weeks later, both tired from long days spent in the studio. He had suddenly gotten shy, biting at the skin around his fingernails.

"Hey, stop that. What's the matter H?"

"Wanna ask you something," he mumbled, but a smile was peeking through where his fingers were still at his lips. "Jus' don't know how to."

"Baby," you sighed, "you can ask me anything. Y'know that."

"I know, I know." He paused and took a deep breath before a wide smile stretched across his face. "Would you maybe want to come home with me this Christmas? To London? Wouldn't be for long, maybe just a couple nights, I just wanna introduce you to my mum already, she's been pestering me nonstop lately 'bout meetin' you and Gem's joined in on it now too, so it's two against one when they call and I've told them that—"

"Harry," you said chucking, trying to interrupt his nervous rambling.

"—and she actually called me Harold last time she told me to bring you 'round and that got me a bit worried so I—"

"Harry! Of course I'll come with you. I'd absolutely love to."

You met him at the airport weeks later, desperate to pull him close and kiss him silly in the confines of his darkly tinted car, but you refrained, knowing how seriously Harry took the protection of your relationship from the press. You may not have been able to see anyone straining to capture pictures of you two, but you knew there was always the chance.

It was an entirely different story, however, when he'd finally pulled the car past the mechanical gate and into his private drive. You both reached for each other immediately, arms tangled and shifter knob pressed uncomfortably against your side, but perfectly content so long as his lips were against yours.

"Fuck— I missed you— so much," he muttered between kisses. He pulled away, forehead resting against yours, sly smirk pulling at his lips. "Mum won't expect us for a few hours at least."

"What is it that you're insinuating, Mr. Styles?"

"That there's plenty of time to give you a tour around the house, that's all," he said innocently. He gave you a sweet smile before hopping out of the car and coming to the passenger side where he helped you out and picked up your bags.

You were eager to be given a house tour, more than keen to learn all of the things you could about his London life. The house was decorated in a way that made you smile - eclectic but with a definitive air of cohesive taste. It suited Harry to an absolute tee. From the artwork that decorated the walls to the mismatched but homey furniture, you could tell immediately that this was Harry's sanctuary - every inch of the home screamed his name.

"It's incredible," you said as he led you into the largest room, the master. He walked over to the dresser that sat under the window and pulled open the top two drawers.

"I know we won't be here long, this time around, but I cleaned out a few drawers for you here, if you want to unpack some things. And there's space in the closet for you too," he nodded towards the door on the other side of the room, dragging a hand through his hair as he talked, "I had too much in there anyways and some of it needed to go and I wanted you to be able to leave some things, if you felt comfortable, of if Mum drags us out shopping and you don't want to take it all home now you can leave it here and-"

"You- you cleared out a drawer for me?"

"Well, yeah," he said, resting his hand on the back of his neck. "Made some space for you in the bathroom too, though I doubt it'll be enough, with all that you bring along to fix yourself up." He paused and thought for a moment. "I know how our lives are. I just wanted you to have some of your own space here; want you to feel as comfortable in my home as I do. Is that too much?"

"H," you said with a sigh, your lips curling into a smile, "it's perfect, and so thoughtful. I'm sorry I haven't done the same for you in Nashville yet."

"'s alright, love. I've already got a toothbrush there at least. I can take some time when we fly back to come and help if you'd like me to. As long as you don't end up wearing all the clothes that I leave there," he chuckled.

"You know me too well," you said, reaching for his hand. He lifted your entwined fingers to his lips to brush a kiss over your knuckles.

"You do look good in my clothes," he confessed, pulling you close to face him. "Look good in my house. But you always look good anyways."

"Said the pot to the kettle," you said with a smile. "I like being here already," you shrug, hands resting on his shoulders. "It feels like you, like home. Thank you for inviting me," you add, as though the measly voicing of your appreciation is enough to convey what you truly feel.

"You're welcome anytime, if I'm here or not."

"You trust me that much?"

"Yeah, I do. I'll get you a key and everything." He leaned down to kiss you slowly, relearning the map of your lips and mouth, before pulling away. He laughed when you made a noise of protest.

"The bathroom's over here if you'd like to freshen up." He had pulled at your hand, stepping towards the other open door in the room. "Figured a shower might sound nice after a long day in an airplane. Besides, I've gotta clean up before we go to Mum's anyways."

"Gonna join me?"

"Yeah, thought I might, if that's okay." His smirk had been wicked as he pushed you the rest of the way into the bathroom. He dropped your hand to reach for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head quickly. As he reached for the buckle of his pants, he had met your staring eyes. "See something you like, love?"

You definitely had, though you didn't think your attraction — physically or emotionally — for Harry had stopped at something that was as weak as "like." Getting to know him over the last six months had made you worry that there wasn't ever going to be anyone else like him, anyone that made you feel like he did. You had fallen for him, desperately hard, and the realization of it as you stood in front of his half-naked self almost embarrassed you.

"Babe? You alright?" he asked as he stripped down to his boxers.

"Yeah, you just got me all distracted," you had grinned, pulling your sweatshirt and remaining clothes off quickly before joining Harry under the warm spray of the water.

Meeting Harry's mom that evening went better than you could've ever dreamt it would. The two of you got on like old friends, and Harry had stared, almost in wonder, at how easily you seemed to bond with her. And then he had stared in horror as Anne offered to pull out the photo albums filled with pictures from Harry's childhood, particularly when Anne offered up the album filled with photos from Harry's and Gemma's emo phases.

As the evening wore on, you caught Harry on more than one occasion glancing your way, cheeks bright from the red wine he was sipping on and eyes warmly reflecting the bright Christmas lights. He always looked like he was a split second away from saying something, only to shake his head and look away with a small smile.

Later, in bed, Harry pulled you close to him. He was laying on his back, you on your side, and you threw a leg over his waist, soaking in all of the cuddles you could get on this short trip together. The room was only illuminated by the ambient light coming in through the blinds.

"Mum liked you a lot," he murmured, gently stroking the skin at the base of your spine, "said I should hang onto you".

You returned the gesture, running your fingertips along the lines of ink that make up his many tattoos. "I liked her too. She's wonderful, I see where you get it from now."

"Hey now, 'm wonderful all on my own!" He tickled your side and you couldn"t help but arch towards him, shrieking and laughing at the touch.

"Stop that! You are an absolute pest, you know that?" you said, grinning up at him.

"Ah, you love me," he whispered, and his joking tone made you smile but the way he pulled you tighter as he said it made you brave.

You let the weight what you were about to say wash over you, aware that things were going to change forever with just a few words. "I do love you, Harry," you whispered, moving up his body to press a kiss to his lips.

"Thank God," he had said, wrapping his arms back around you and pulling you on top of him. "Cause I love you too."

Leaving Harry after that had been even more difficult. All you wanted to do was be with him, but you had too much coming up with the future release of your album and Harry was still in the midst of doing his own writing and recording.

It was your professions, along with the desire to keep your relationship private, that kept you apart. You weren't sure how you did it, but your relationship had withstood the distance and odd-hours. The only step now would be deciding if, when, and how to confirm the suspicions to tabloids and fans alike that you were an item.

The wait was killing you. All you wanted was to show off to the world that Harry was yours.

///

The bridge of the song was followed quickly by the chorus and the heavy guitar and pounding drums had you rocking on your feet, body swaying into the mic stand as you let yourself get lost in the lyrics. "If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive."

The crowd was even more into the song now, many picking up on the words quickly and screaming them along with your singing. The rock and roll vibe of the song was coursing through you and the crowd, the arena electric with energy already.

"You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it."

You remove the mic from the stand and dance towards one end of the stage, singing as you move to the beat. "We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh! La da da da da! You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh!"

///

You had been on the phone with Harry one day in July, nearly five months after the release of your album, having him help you decide what the setlist of your tour would be when it began in November.

"I wish I could cover one of your songs."

He had laughed and slurped his tea, the sounds comforting to you, even over the phone. "That'd be a bit obvious, wouldn't it love?"

"I don't mean cover Golden or Kiwi," you said, tapping your pen against the pad of paper in front of you. "What about one you wrote for 1D? What about Perfect? Or Stockholm Syndrome! That was always one of my favorites."

"Getting permission on those might be a bit more difficult, s'not just me that's gotta sign off on it. Besides, do you really wanna be the artist that covers a One Direction song on her own headlining tour?"

"Guess I'll stick with singing along to them in the shower then."

You were both quiet for a moment, lost in your own thoughts.

"What if I covered Medicine?" you asked suddenly, realizing it was the perfect compromise, not to mention your favorite song that Harry himself performed oh his own tour. The rock sound wasn't a far cry from the roots that country music had and you knew it would sound great. "Even if it was just for one stop!"

"Hmm," Harry mused. "It would sound great with the band, I'll give you that. But videos will go around, people will know it's my song you're singing and they'll connect the dots about us."

"H, I'm ready for that if you are. I love you, and I'm ready to be able to share that love that I have for you with the world. Sneaking around has been fun but I want people to know how proud of you I am and how much you're loved and appreciated. Half of our fans know already, it's just a matter of us confirming it. I think that we could really-"

Harry was laughing at your rambling on the other end of the line. "Alright, alright, you drive a hard bargain, love. I think you're right, maybe it is time we stopped sneaking around. I'll try, but Jax and everyone else still have to agree to it too. It might be easier to convince everyone if it's just a one time thing. Pick another cover, something you'd normally do, in case it takes some time to work things out."

"I'll ask him right now! Thank you Harry!"

"I just have one condition," he said, and you could hear the grin that was surely pulling at the corners of his lips.

"What's that?"

"I get to perform it with you," he had said, and the smile already on your face widened exponentially. "If we're finally gonna make "us" public, may as well do it with a bang."

///

In the moment after the chorus, an 8 count beat is carried by the drummer and guitarist. For this performance, and the only performance you'd put on of this song, you had rehearsed the 8 count repeating once between the chorus and the next verse, as you needed a bit of extra time to announce your guest performer.

"Ladies and gentlemen," you shout into the mic, grin wide and face beaming already at what was about to take place. "To help me finish this performance, please help me welcome my very good friend, Harry Styles!"

Harry emerges from behind the stage holding his own wireless mic as much of the crowd screams - he may not be a country artist, but he was absolutely known worldwide. You step back with a wave of your arm, smiling as he begins the next chorus. His performance is for the crowd but he's singing the words directly to you.

"Tingle running through my bones, fingers to my toes, tingle running through my bones," he sings, voice smooth like whiskey, and the crowd adores him, eating out of the palm of his hand. "The boys and the girls are in, I mess around with them, and I'm OK with it."

You can't help but dance as he sings, his voice and the energy of the crowd propelling you to move. He watches you, eyes no longer on the crowd, as he sings the next lines. Immediately, heat pools low in your belly at his glance and the words.

"I'm coming down, I figured out I kinda like it. And when I sleep I'm gonna dream of how you…"

You gyrate your hips at the unsung line of "ride it", listening with a sly grin as some in the crowd scream the two words that go unsung.

///

After giving him a key, Harry had moved some of his clothes to your apartment in Nashville some time while you were away on the first leg of your tour. He had found the city to be incredibly welcoming and inspirational for his upcoming album and had decided to stay there for a spell while you continued to tour around the country.

You had scheduled a short break between your concerts over New Years, wanting to be able to grab at least one or two nights at home with him to celebrate the holiday before you were back on the road again.

"So fucking glad you're home," Harry panted, pulling your shirt over your head before attaching his lips to yours once again. "Missed you like crazy."

"Missed you too," you moaned as his lips moved downwards, across your neck and over your collarbones, down the valley between your breasts. Before he could reach around to unhook your bra, you reached for his shirt, as desperate as he was to see and touch what you'd been missing.

As he pulled the half-unbuttoned blouse over his head, you pulled your leggings off and reached for him, pushing him back onto the bed behind him. He unbuttoned his pants as he scooted up towards the middle of the bed, shoving them and his boxers off in one swoop.

You climbed on top of him, hurriedly reaching to kiss him as you rubbed your clothed center along the length of his hard cock.

"Fuck," he hissed, throwing his head back to allow you room to kiss his neck. "Desperate aren't you, darling?"

"Want you so bad it hurts," you whispered, sucking a bright hickey right where it would absolutely be seen by anyone.

You moved to continue kissing down his chest but he stopped you with a hand under your arm. "Not gonna last long, love. Wanna be inside you."

His cheeks and chest were flushed bright red, lips puffy and pupils blown wide. This was when you loved him most, being able to have him like no one else did. The same feeling always hit you at certain moments, particularly ones of domesticity, like when you watched him back the car out of the driveway or when he stood in the kitchen in the morning in nothing but socks, boxers, and his ratty old robe, singing along to old big band jazz as he waited for the coffee to brew. There was Harry Styles the musician, Harry Styles the actor, and Harry Styles the performer, but then there was your Harry.

"Yeah, okay," you sighed, moving off of him quickly to remove your bra and panties. You climbed back onto the bed and threw your leg over his hips, straddling him. He immediately reached for you and pulled you flush against his chest, his lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss.

You rocked your hips against him as he held you, your slick arousal gliding along his length, drawing a moan from both of you.

"Baby, please," he panted, and you could only mod in agreement, lost already to the sweeping feeling of your close release.

His hands rested on your hips as you positioned him at the entrance between your legs. You groaned in harmony as you worked down him slowly, the only sound in the room was your shared heavy breathing and gasps.

"Fuck me," he sighed as you set a slow pace, rocking on top of him to reach each spot that you know will get you there.

"Workin' on it," you grin. A quick swivel of your hips hit at just the right angle and you tossed your head back, repeating the movement over and over again until you shuddered with a final snap of tension, your orgasm rolling over you as Harry helped you move, hands tight on your hips, to wring all you could from the release.

"You look so beautiful right now, like a fuckin' angel," Harry said, voice low and gravely, accent thick with need.

"How's that line go?" you said as you slowed down, smirking when a harsh rock of your hips caused Harry to moan. "'Turns out she's a devil in between the sheets'?"

"Fuck," he groaned again, eyes closed tightly. "Can't just go reciting my own lyrics to me while I"m buried in ya like this, love."

"And there's nothing you can do about it," you continued, singing the line of his song this time, and his hips buck up into yours harshly.

"You're gonna pay for that," he had said, quoting another of his songs, before he had flipped you over onto your back and set his own brutal pace.

///

Like he can read your thoughts, Harry beams and wags a finger in your direction and the crowd screams at your chemistry together. You grab your mic from its stand and take a step towards Harry to sing the chorus together.

"If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive." Harry dances off to the side of the stage, performing once again for the crowd.

You dance at center stage with your wireless mic, too excited about performing with Harry that you can't stand in one spot. The music and Harry's energy make you want to move. "You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it."

"We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh! La da da da da!" Harry throws his head back, singing along in his own world and you can't look away from him. He really was a rockstar and getting to share the stage with him like this was an experience you'd never forget.

"You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh!"

There's a great pause in the lyrics where the guitar, keyboard, and drums play together, increasing the tension of the song. You and Harry take off towards opposite ends of the stage, both reveling in the performance for the crowd as you dance and stomp to the beat. Eventually, with a slide down the keys of the keyboard, the instrumental quiets into just the steady beat of the bass line joined by the hi-hats.

You and Harry urge the crowd to clap along as you both return to the middle of the stage to sing together once again. He always said that this portion of the song was one of his favorites to perform, the repeated line from the bridge ending abruptly with the lights going out before flashing back on, the added theatrics of the performance elevating the climax of the song completely. Having rehearsed that Harry would sing the following chorus alone, you let yourself get lost in his gaze as it settles on you.

You stand facing one another behind the mic stand, once again singing more to one another rather than to the crowd. You step closer towards him as the lyrics progress, nearly chest to chest now with your voices sharing one another's mics. "I had a few, got drunk on you and now I'm—"

Before you can sing the last word of the line and the lights can blink out as rehearsed, Harry leans forwards and captures your mouth in a hungry kiss. The crowd erupts with screams as the lights above the stage go dark.

You can feel rather than hear him say the words "I love you" against your lips and you have just enough time to repeat them back to him before the drums and guitar pick the beat up once again, the lights flashing back on brightly. He moves away and continues to sing the chorus that follows as if nothing had happened. You're a bit stunned, not having prepared for his relationship-revealing public display of affection to happen during your performance of his song but it was perfect and he knows it. Your smile is wide and you can't help but stand rooted where you are and laugh at what has just finally happened.

"If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive," he sings, smirking at you while you blush across from him.

You join him in singing the last lines, your right hand joining his left hand where everyone can see your fingers entwine.

"You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it. We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh!"

You urge the crowd with a waving hand to join in and they do, singing along with you and Harry. "La da da da da! You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh!"

The drums and guitar end the song on five quick beats and the crowd erupts once again in screams. You immediately jump towards Harry, throwing your arms around his neck in a close embrace. His hands wrap around your waist to hold you close, and you can feel him smile where his face is pressed close to your jaw.

"How was that?" he asks, chuckling against you.

"It was perfect, you're perfect. Thank you, H. For everything."

"Can take you on a proper date now, yeah? Wanna show my girl off to the world."

"Yes, please!" You can't wipe the smile from your face as he sets you down and Harry continues to beam at you as the crowd continues screaming, reeling from your shared performance.

Harry nudges you gently before turning back to them, lifting his and your arms high in the air and leading you in bending for a bow. He steps away from you and turns, opening his arms wide to you for the crowd to praise and you laugh, tearing up at his gesture and the overwhelming emotions of the performance while you take another bow just for yourself.

He pulls you into another hug and you can't help but angle your face up towards him, wordlessly asking for another very quick, very public kiss.

He glances down at you, smiling. "You're gonna love this now, aren't you?"

"Course I am. love showing them you're mine."

He leans down to peck your forehead, your nose, and finally, your lips, as the crowd goes wild. "Love showing them you're mine. You've got a show to finish, love. Go kill it."

///

Ahh! So much fun! This has been such a joy to write and I appreciate you taking the time to give it a chance! It’s my first (of hopefully many) Harry fics - reading all of the stories here has been immensely inspiring, and I’m so looking forward to writing more!

Tagging my love @morganlatte who is a wonderful hype woman and beta reader. Thanks buddy!

Anyways! Thank you for reading! My love language is words of affirmation (aka I have a praise kink) so leave me a comment here if you feel so inclined!

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles story #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #one direction fanfiction #harry styles x you #reader insert fic #my writing #wow!#that was so much fun #i'm so in love with it

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lesbianakaashi · 3 years

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The Forgotten Shounen: Katekyo Hitman Reborn

This is not a “Why you should watch/read khr” or anything like that. This is just me going into the deep dive and throwing my findings at you. I’m making this because khr used to be my favourite series when I was 15 (I had plushees, posters, tradingcards, the art book etc) and now as an adult I constantly find myself baffled at how unknow it seems to be.

1. Okay first what is khr?

Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or just Reborn! is a series by Akira Amano which was published in Weekly Shounen Jump from 2004 to 2012 (with 42 volumes) and got an anime adaption which run from 2006 to 2010 on Tv Tokyo (with 202 episodes and one OVA).

2. What’s it about?

Khr is a parody of the italian mafia and plays in a world where the mafia is heavily influencial. The protagonist is the japanese middle schooler Sawada Tsunayoshi who is known as “No good Tsuna” because of his failing grades, general weak and cowardly personality and weak physics.

He becomes aware of the mafia world when a 2 year old baby called Reborn arrives at his house claiming to be the greatest hitman and declaring himself his home tutor. Reborn was send by the 9th head of the Vongola famiglia who is ready to retire and looking for a new heir. Which of course, is supposed to be Tsuna and now it's Reborns job to shape him into a worthy sucessor.

Tsuna rejects the violence of the mafia world and refuses the position as the 10th. Thanks to Reborn and his general craziness Tsuna meets different people and starts to make real friendships. Reborn wants 6 of those friends to be Tsuna's future guardians, basically a group of people which will be closest to him in the vongola famiglia. Tsuna might have no interest in those positions but the friendships he builds with them become really precious to him.

Reborns arrivial also brings in the enemies of the Vongola family which leads to Tsuna being forced to engage in battles. Generally Tsuna openly avoids fights and prefers to run away but will put himself in danger for his friends' sake or because of something Reborn did.

Through out the series Tsuna matures and gains strenght but he never becomes a power fantasy. He's just a guy with many flaws who grows through the human connections he makes.

Personally I think the relationship between Reborn and Tsuna is one of the best student teacher reltaionships in all of manga only topped by Mob and Reigen from Mob Psycho 100. Especially the last arc really underlines their unique relationship to me.

Furthermore, khr offers a new and unique battle system: The flames. I'm not gonna go into to too much detail but the general idea is that one fights with their dying will flame which basically turns off your the savety switch so you can fight with everything you have. The flames are seperated into different categories such as: sky, storm, mist, rain, sun, lightning and cloud and have different attributes asigned to each one. Tsuna's use of the sky flame and his transformation when using it is still one of my favourite shounen transformations to this day.

3. What happened?

The series did really well and then not so well over the course of its serialisation. After the manga got an anime adaption it increased in populairty and video games, light novels, and other products such as CDs were created based on the series. Reborn is one of the best selling series of Weekly Shōnen Jump and has sold around 30 Million volumes overall. It was and still is very popular in Japan but rather unknown in the west.

According to the article "The Rise and Fall of Weekly Shonen Jump: A Look at the Circulation of Weekly Jump" khr was the 10th bestselling series in Weekly Shōnen Jump, with a total of 7 million copies sold in 2007.

This number increasing to 15 milion in 2008. Which placed khr into the 4th best selling series of 2008 in Japan.

Between 2008 and 2010 those sales declined but still kept strong with khr as the 6th top selling manga in 2009, 8th best selling in 2010 and then 24th best selling in 2012.

In November 2014, readers of the Da Vinci magazine voted khr number 17 on a list of Weekly Shōnen Jump's greatest manga series of all time.

After the anime came to an apprupt stop in 2010 for unknown reasons the manga sells took a visible hit. (Apparently the studio wanted to put the anime on halt because they were busy with other projects and give Akira Amano time to develop her story but I couldn't find any source for this claim) Furthermore, the rushed last chapters of the manga in 2012 declined the popularity of the series even more. There's no offical statement as to why the manga was ended in such a way but it's reasonable to assume that Jump either cut it considering the decreasing sales or Akira Amano choose to end it for personal reasons.

Nontheless, Tsuna not being included in Jump Force (a fighting game where you can play as different characters from Jump) in 2019 even tho he made it in earlier Jump Stars games also underlines the decreased interest in the series.

Rumors on a reboot or anime adaption of the last two arcs surface from time to time but are genereally unlikely. Artland the studio which made khr has gone bankrupt around 2015-2016. It might be taken on by another studio but rather uncommen especially with such an old series.

4. Art style

The khr anime ended over 10 years ago and the old art style might not be appealing to newer audiences.

Especailly because the anime adaption follows Akira Amanos old art style which heavily developed within the years. Here a picture comparing characters in the new art style:

A modern anime adaption in the new art style would be aesthetically pleasing. It would probably look similiar to Psycho Pass since Akira Amano did the concept art for this series.

(My personal art student hot take is that both art styles are unique and fun. Up to this day Akira Amano still has my favourite art style and even if the amount folds in the characters clothing is a little extreme I love it dearly.)

5. Criticism

The show is not without flaws and even if I greatly enjoy it it wouldn't be right not to adress them.

Daily Life Arc:

A lot of people view the first 20 to 25 episodes as fillers and quickly lose intererst in the series. This is due to the fact that Akira Amano inteded the series to be a gag manga and focuses the first chapters on world building, character introduction and comical narratives. It's rumored that the decision to develop the story into a battle shounen was made because the sales weren't doing well enough at first. So the first chapters/episodes may seem titidious but are necessary for the story and the development of the characters. The tonal shift from a more gintama like gag manga to a darker battle focused story can also be offputting to some viewers.

Either way a lot of people blame this arc when discussing why khr never got an english dub or didn't end up on Toonami. I've also read that the manga never finished serializing in the north america. However, it finished in other western languages like german and spanish.

Censoring:

The anime censors A LOT. From Gokudera's smoking habit, Yamamoto's whole character arc which deals with heavy themes such as depression and suicidal thoughts. The general bloodiness of the manga was censored and sometimes whole chapters and characters were left out even if those were important to the devolopment of others.

Filler episodes:

Out of the 202 episodes the anime has around 29 filler episodes which makes roughly 14 %.

Sexism:

Even if Reborn was written by a woman most female characters are rather flat and their storylines often tied to a male character in one way or another.

Genereal things:

Khr, like many other long running series, is sometimes criticised for a lack of world building or unpopular narrative choices.

6. Hope?

Khr isn't exactly dead. As stated before the series is still very popular in Japan and still gets new merch pretty regulary. There are also petitions floating around for a reboot or a new anime season but those never get a lot of traction. Furthermore #Reborn2期アニメ化 (#Reborn2ndAnimation) used to get some traction on twitter not too long ago. Last year the Anime News Network did a poll on which anime the readers would like to see a rebooot of and khr placed second.

Either way here's a collection of recent khr things I could find.

- In 2018 a new bluray set was released in north america

- The khr stage play reached yet another new season

- A mobile game was released last year

- Currently ongoing anime cafe event called "Concerto di Vongola"

- Last month there was an event with the former VAs and stage play actors where they discussed their favourite khr episodes.

- There has been an increase in blind reacts to the openings on youtube which might bring in a new fan base. The biggest one I could find had around 90k views and was made in 2019. On this note check out the soundtrack. The first openeing Drawing Days by SPLAY still makes me go insane (but I'm biased of course)

There also renewed hope for a new season/reboot because Shaman King, Inuyasha and Bleach got anounced for new seasons after a long hiatus. It's important to keep in mind that the circumstances for those series are differnt tho. For example bleachs new anime is often tied to the immense success of the gatcha game.

7. Conclusion

Khr is a series which used to be a flagship for Weekly Shounen Jump and is deeply beloved by it's fans, especially in Japan. It influenced other shounen series like bnha. It would be nice to see it gaining a bigger fanbase in the west :)

#khr #khr meta #anime analysis #shounen jump #katekyo hitman reborn #mirytalks #long post #manga

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suchalonelysunflower · 3 years

Text

Over And Out (l.h)

End Up Here - Part 4

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x 5sos! Fem! Reader

Summary: A tour. A secret relationship. And rumors only grow...

Warnings: Angst, mild smut. Mentions of harassment, sexual harassment, sexual abuse, physical abuse, verbal abuse, creepy men, jealousy, alcohol, cheating, fighting, sexism, and many frustrations. Language and some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word Count: 10k

Author’s Note: this is the most frustrating thing I’ve ever written, I believe. Next part will be up on March 14th. Remember that Reblogs, Fedback, Comments and Likes are very important! You have no idea how much they help me ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋🌻✨

My Materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

Series Materialist || part 1 || part 2 || part 3

Liked by michaelclifford, 5sosfan4eva and 1,573 others

lukehemmings and away and away we go ✈️

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5sosfan4eva THEY ARE TOTALLY DATING

↪️ calumlovesash I hope they’re not 🤢 she was much better with Madden or Josh. At least they’re famous

yn5sos I’m changing seats with Michael

↪️ lukehemmings @yn5sos 🥺

@5sos EUROPE ARE YOU READY?!

“I can’t believe we’re already here!” Y/N cheered as they got to the hotel.

It’s been a month on the road already and they finally had a few days to rest before traveling to yet another destination. They had the idea of doing a tour to promote not only their new singles and tease the album release that’s bound to happen next year, and it ended up being one of the most incredible ideas they had after spending almost a year without doing shows.

They started with a small tour in Europe, then they will move on back home in Australia for a couple of shows, and then the big finale in the United States where most of their shows were already sold out. By that time, the fans would’ve already listened to the new songs and be even more hyped for the new album.

Luke was the newbie on tour, this not being the first time he traveled away from home, but the first time he did it with people he cared about. He was having the time of his life with Y/N, the boys, and their s.o. It all felt like a dream. He was actually living the life of a rockstar on his summer break, even if most of the things they did they had to keep it a secret.

When Y/N invited Luke on tour there was no way he would’ve said no to her - not just because he pretty much can’t say no to her, but that’s another story.

She said she wanted to take it slow and that was exactly what they were doing. They didn’t put a label on whatever they had going on, but rather they enjoyed the moment stealing kisses and nights whenever they could.

They would sneak out into each other's rooms late at night, longing to be closer. They would spend hours upon hours tangled in the sheets, loving each other and sharing whatever was on their minds at the time. Making those moments their own amid their borrowed time between destinations. A moment for the two of them.

Luke found it weird at the beginning; hiding their relationship from the world until it became official. But these last few months he could see a change in Y/N, she seemed happier, more open to talking about her feelings and her past. He understood that this was important to her, to live a normal life until she feels ready to share it.

If time is what she needed, time is what she’ll get.

The boys and their girlfriends were all supportive. They too understood the importance of keeping some things private as well as the changes in Y/N’s behavior. They were all happy to see their friend back, just in time for tour.

But it was almost impossible to control what was put in the media. The fans already know who Luke is and that he spends a lot of time with the members of their favorite band. They speculate about his relationship with Y/N, creating rumors that even though he wants to, he can’t confirm nor deny. And when it came to the media outlets, those were much, much worse.

They didn’t say much about him “The privilege of being normal” Said Calum once. But they did have a lot to say about Y/N…

“Y/N L/N is back at it again with a new man?!”

“No tears this time? Y/N L/N Caught smiling and getting cuddly with a member of her team! Can she mix work and pleasure?”

“Serial heartthrob Y/N L/N seen with other men while still refusing to talk about her most recent break-up? Sounds fishy to me!”

“What was she thinking?! Y/N L/N was spotted in an outing with his “new friend” wearing very thin shorts and a crop top. Not so family-friendly apparently”

Horrible things were written about her every day but she ignored them as if they didn’t exist. Luke wished he could do the same.

Every little article, tweet, or comment about Y/N made his blood boil. It was clear that they were completely made up to be some “big news” when the reality was far from that and they kept disrespecting them and their relationship even if it was still on the down-low.

But Luke could not stop reading them. It was addictive how he couldn’t resist clicking on her name every time it popped out, not because of some morbid reasoning behind it, but because those articles seemed to know more about Y/N than Luke himself. People kept talking about a past he didn’t know she had. Were those made up as well? Or are they based on reality? Would he be able to know the difference?

Truth was, he couldn’t. He loves Y/N blindly, he got to know her in one of the most genuine ways but it feels like that is not enough. It’s almost like she is living a secret life he doesn’t get to know.

He wonders when it will end. This seemingly permanent stage of seating on the sidewalk, waiting for the light to turn green so they could walk freely into their relationship. Where people will support them, respect her and let them be happy. But that could never happen when she’s the one who doesn’t want to move.

Luke respects that she is not ready to talk, as she said time and time again. But he just couldn’t comprehend how she, right now, could be so at peace while her name is thrown through the mud and back. Smiling with the boys as they take pictures for promo while management arranges the check-in. Does she not know what they are saying about her or she just accepts it without any retribution?

He was asking himself all these questions as he watched her so happy, his mind tormenting him with a dark cloud over their sunny day. He wants to protect her, but he doesn’t know how or if she would even let him.

And yes, maybe that was selfish of him. Banging on a closed-door with his heart in his hands. But what about the person with the key and the lock? Aren't they a little bit selfish too?

“Hey!” He heard Kat said as she sat beside him, nudging her shoulder against his.

Luke turned to her, his eyebrow still locked in a frown as he muttered a little “hey”

The blonde girl scrunched her nose at him “Yikes, what's happening that it has you all worked up, buddy?”

Luke pressed his lips on a thin line as his eyes traveled back at Y/N. She was laughing at something Ashton had said when she turned to look at him.

Y/N smiled, winking at him as she waved. Luke stared at her for a while, a small smile playing on his lips as he raised his hand in acknowledgment. He could feel his heart skipping a beat every time their eyes met, but the dark feelings in his mind made his expression turn sour the moment Y/N turned around again, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the girl sitting next to him.

“You read them again, didn’t you?” Kat asked, already knowing the answer just by looking at how his shoulders tensed the moment she asked it.

They were all aware of the tabloids and the stories, being a regular occurrence to them, but not for Luke. They all knew this was new to him as well and how overwhelming it might be. So they all tried to ground him as much as possible, not letting him get affected by it as he had before.

“Now why are they saying that?!” He spat as he threw his cellphone on the leather couch, calling the boy's attention.

It was a normal day at the studio. They were all getting lunch as they laid back in the break room while Y/N and their girls went out to get them coffee.

Calum was the first one to speak, confused by his friend's sudden outburst “Uh, what exactly? And who?”

“This!” He said, grabbing his phone and tossing it at Calum. The rest of the boys gathered around as Luke plopped himself down on the couch.

Ashton began to read out loud “Seeing the growing rumors of Y/N’s mystery man, here’s a list of every guy we wished would date her”

“Okay that’s fucked up,” Michael said, swallowing his food.

“It’s better than the last one…”

“What?!” Luke asked, outraged that there are worse things out there.

“Dude, chill,” Calum said, “We understand this is beyond fucked, especially now that you’re dating or whatever. But you getting this angry at it won’t solve anything”

“Won’t solve anything?!” He said in a loud tone “That’s my girl they’re talking about. My girl dating other guys while she’s with me!”

“But they don’t know that,” Michael argued.

Luke shook his head, taking his phone back from Calum’s hands as he started typing furiously.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?! Letting them know that they can go fuck themselves” Luke answered, eyes still on the phone, a second away from pressing send before Calum snatched his phone.

“No!” He said “You are not going to out your relationship without her consent!”

“But-“

“Plus, I already took care of it,” Ashton said, holding his phone up “I tweeted at them telling them how incredibly disrespectful they’re being, now the fans are onto them and I already messaged management to deal with it”

“And that’s it?” Luke’s eyes winded “That’s all you’re gonna do?”

“That’s all we can do right now,” Ashton said with a sigh, sitting next to it “We know these situations suck, they’re horrible and dehumanizing and we are glad more people are realizing just how shitty the media is. But if we respond to every rumor there is it’s going to be a never endless battle, it’s going to backfire. We know, we tried”

“But all the stories are aimed against her” Luke said, running a hand through his face with frustration clear in his eyes “She didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Why do you think that is?” Michael chimed in “Think about Taylor Swift, Katy Perry, Miley Cyrus, Britney Spears… They aim for women because they think are easy to kill”

“Which they’re not. It makes them stronger somehow. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it if I was them” Calum said “Women are stronger than you think when it comes to this, Y/N included”

“We’ve been living with this kind of shit show for years. We defended her with knives and teeth, dragging every single outlet that posted something against her. But that shit only made it worse for her”

“They loved the attention they were receiving” Ashton’s voices laid with sarcasm “Every interaction we had they profited from it, creating even more rumors, one worse than the other, just so they could have the clicks. Eventually, Y/N asked us to stop defending her publicly and she decided to ignore it altogether”

“But we still fight for her, though. We flag the post, demand they take it down, talk to PR and management for damage control, and even sue for defamation a couple of times. She’s never got to go through any of that on her own, we wouldn’t have allowed it”

“And what am I supposed to do, then?” Luke asked, a mix of frustration and desperation filled his voice “Just do nothing?”

“Be there for her” Calum answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world “Support her. Love her. Comfort her. Whatever she needs. She’s a strong woman, one of the strongest we know. But there will come a time when she will have to lean on someone, and you have to be there and ready for her. She trusts you. Don’t let her down”

Kath placed a hand on Luke’s shoulder, understanding the man’s pain.

“I just-“ He said with a sigh “She never reads them, you know? The articles. But I do, I can’t help it. They seem to know more about her than me and that’s just-“

“Fucked?”

“Yeah,” He said as he took a long breath “I don’t know… I’m trying. This is all very new to me and she’s a professional at dealing with this kind of shit. But at the same time, she never tells me anything, how she feels about them or if they’re real or not. It’s fucking me up”

Kat hummed “And I assume you don’t ask her about it either”

The girl crooked an eyebrow at Luke, seemingly seeing through him “I- I don’t want to push”

She sighed and patted his shoulder “Let me tell you something, Luke. From girlfriend of a celebrity to the boyfriend of a celebrity” She started, earning Luke’s complete attention “When I started dating Calum we decided to keep it private, out of the eyes of the media and even from some of his friends. It was good at the beginning, great even! But the heart is ambitious and it always ends up wanting more. We fought a lot during those times, part of us wanting to hold on to what we had but at the same time longing for some kind of freedom. In the end, we did end up going public, as you know. We endure a lot of hate, we still do. But we knew what we were up against, you’re still trying to figure that out. But I’m telling you to know there is something you’re lacking”

“And what is that?” Luke asked with curiosity.

“Communication” Kat smiled sweetly at him “How do you expect to reach a meeting point while you’re sitting here in your own dark cloud and she’s over there with no clue of what’s happening with you and vice versa?”

The blonde girl got up from her seat next to him, giving him one last piece of advice before walking towards Calum “Don’t give up before you try. No one said it was going to be easy but, it’s your choice to see if it’s worth it”

Luke watched her walk away, rousing her arms around Calum’s waist as she smiled sweetly at him, giving him a small peck. Luke smiled at their love.

He thought about their friends, how in love they are with their partners and how free they are to love publicly, facing the retaliations of being in the public eye. But they seemed happy, they were happy. And he realized he wanted that for him and Y/N.

His mind drifted off to the possibility of going public, cleaning the air once and for all. No more “mysterious guy” or “Y/N’s possible secret lover” he’d be Luke Hemmings, the proud boyfriend of singer Y/N L/N. They could be happier, free. They could fight those rumors together and face the stormy weather that would come. He’d defend her until the end of times, protecting her with his life and supporting her in everything she does. He wanted that for them. But it wasn’t his sole choice to make.

“Babe!” He heard Y/N call.

She was walking up to him, a playful smile on her face as the nickname rolled off her tongue. She was wearing one of his hoodies, making her look small as she approached him.

He noticed that her eyes were shining, lately, they always did and he couldn’t get enough of them. He could get lost in her eyes willingly, throwing away the map and making himself home.

He loved her. Oh, he was so in love with her he didn’t even know what to do. The more he thought about it, the more sure he was about wanting to love her freely. He just wished she thought about it too.

“I got our keys” She smiled, pulling two cards out of her back pocket.

“Oh?” Luke asked playfully with a grin drawn into his face “And where am I supposed to sleep this week?”

In order not to create any suspicion about their relationship, they decided that Luke will have his own hotel room on tour - even though everyone knows that’s not where he sleeps or where he wakes up in the mornings. Usually “Luke’s room” is used to store the extra luggage they carry.

Y/N fake pouted “Sadly, Mr. Hemmings. Your room is at the other end of the hall”

Luke gasped “That far away?! Is there any way I can be… closer?”

The girl bit her lip as she rounded her arm around his waist, standing on her tippy toes as she softly whispered in his ear “Let’s see what I can do about that, Sir”

Y/N giggled as she heard Luke let out a soft groan, pecking his cheek with a small kiss as she stood in front of him again “Baby, you’re going to be the death of me” He said, trying to get a hold of her by her waist. But she was quicker, swiftly moving a step back as she started walking towards the elevators. One last look over her shoulder got him grabbing their things as he followed her without any questions.

The elevator ride is quiet, the beating of their hearts being the soundtrack to their wait as they reached their floor. Y/N didn't look at him as she walked towards the door, unlocking it with one swift movement of the wrist and leaving it open for Luke to come in after her.

When he opened the door, she was nowhere in sight. He wondered if she hid somewhere, this not being the first time she would jump and scare the shit out of him. But then, his ears picked up a soft humming coming through the bathroom door, and with a devilish smile he let their luggage at the side of the closet, he locked the door and made his way to her.

Y/N was humming one of her favorite songs when Luke caught her reflection in the mirror but she was not looking at him. She was putting some lotion in her hands, fingers tracing up until her upper arm with barely-there touches.

“Remember we have a party in a couple of hours, Hemmings,” She said when she felt him getting closer “We should get ready soon” He just hummed in agreement, not really paying attention to her words.

Softly, he placed his hands on either side of her hips, pulling her closer to him. Y/N kept ignoring him as she dried the excess of product out of her hands and it wasn’t until Luke pushed away some of her hair and started kissing along her neck that she finally gave him a proper response to his action.

Luke smirked as he felt her let out a shaky breath as his lips traced the shell of her ear, kissing it softly before moving lower and lower, kissing and sucking on her skin as slow as he could, making her tremble under his touch.

“Luke,” She said, holding her breath as she felt his calloused hands travel under the hoodie she was wearing. His hoodie. The one that always smelt like him.

“Hmm?” He asked, not stopping his movements for a second.

“We- uhm” The girl stuttered in a whisper when his hands started touching her over her bra, softly rolling over the nipples and making them hard “We should - oh - we should start getting ready soon”

“We should, huh?” He asked, voice raspy and low “It will be rude to go a little bit late. Wouldn’t it?”

Y/N let out a sigh when his hands left her breasts, trying to regain her breath before she lost it all over again when his fingers started playing with the hem of her jeans.

His fingers wandered carefully, fiddling with the button and zipper until they weren’t an issue. His lips grazed her neck up and down, kissing it softly as his fingertips finally reached her center.

She let out a soft moan when she felt him over her panties, tracing her lips over them and feeling her arousal “I’m sure they could wait a little bit longer” He said as he pressed a finger to her clit over the fabric “We need to take care of a few problems before that, don’t you think?”

He pressed his hips onto her, a soft whimper escaping her mouth when she felt his growing erection against her.

“So wet for me, my love” He groaned as her hand flew to the top of his hair, trying to find balance as she tugged on his curls “Always so beautiful for me”

“Luke-“

He opened his eyes just in time to catch her staring at him through the mirror with a desperate look in her eyes. It took him less than a second to spin her around and press her against the countertop, ceasing his lips into her like she was his last meal on earth.

She tangled her hands behind his head, fingers deep into his hair as he grabbed her by the back of her thighs, easily lifting her off and taking her to the king-size bed where they made sure to lose track of time between kisses and moans as they satisfied their needs with each other, over and over again until they fell through the abyss of pleasure together, whispering sweet confessions as their breath went back to normal.

It was easy to say that they were the last ones to reach the lobby. What was hard for them to ignore was the knowing looks and teasing smiles from their friends that were waiting for them for a good amount of time.

“Don’t say anything” Y/N threatened Ashton as he opened his mouth. But he just laughed

“If you want Luke to walk around with his fly open then sure, I’ll keep my mouth shut”

The ride to the party was filled with laughter and chit-chats. They were all in a great mood to finally have a mini-break in between shows and what better way to celebrate it than at a big party?

Luke stole glances from Y/N as she talked to Bethany. She looked beautiful with her black dress, making Luke proud and a little bit snug about him being the one who would take her home afterward.

But he knew that after tonight they needed to talk. And not “talk” like they usually do. No, this time he was going to express his concerns to her, his hopes for them, and confess his love for her over and over again. He wanted her to know how he feels, he needed to know where they stand and what she needs to feel more comfortable and what he can do to help her feel at ease.

He just needs reassurance, something to hold on to while he provides the same for her. In the end, he knew they would be okay.

After a few minutes, they reached the house of the host. Luke marveled at the mansion that stood proudly in front of him. When Y/N mentioned a party with some label associates, she never mentioned that the party was going to be hosted by the president and owner of the label.

He felt Y/N tug on his hand a couple of times before separating herself from him and going to stand next to the girls.

For a moment Luke forgot that they needed to keep appearances and couldn’t be together romantically in public. He could feel his heart aching as he watched her walk away with her friends, laughing together as they stepped into the party.

“Hey,” Michael said behind him, following the eyes of the sad man next to him “It’s just one night”

He tried to be comforting, but all Luke could wonder was: Would it be just for a night?

The party was wild. That’s the first thought everyone has in their minds as they step through those doors into a world of darkness mixed with neon lights, smoke machines, and three open bars scattered around the hall. People were separated into groups: The ones who were too drunk to stop dancing, the ones not drunk enough to start dancing, and the ones who were networking their way into the industry.

Everyone that was someone was at that party. Producers, artists, songwriters, performers, agents… You name it. It was a party for the big leagues and Luke could not help but feel out of place the moment he stepped foot into the scene.

“Hey! 5 Seconds of Summer. C’mere!” A voice called over the music.

Standing not too far from them there was a man, his bald head shined under the lights as he held a drink to his lips, beckoning the band to come over.

Y/N and the guys started walking towards the man without a second to wait, leaving Luke and their girlfriends to witness the interaction from afar.

“Who’s that?” Asked Luke, getting closer to Danielle as they watched their partners laugh with a bunch of men who were now surrounding the band.

“That’s Anthony Kellinghs” She answered, swiftly grabbing a drink from one of the trays carried by the passing waitresses “He’s one of the big bosses in the industry. Ashton said his team approached them not too long ago to see if they would be interested in changing labels and work with them”

Luke glanced back to the group. Y/N was standing next to Calum, talking about something that made Anthony smile even though her face was serious. He did not like the way that man was looking at her.

Anthony laughed loudly, making other guests turn his face towards them. Y/N and the boys shared a confused gaze as they laughed awkwardly along with him. The bald man kept laughing, clearly intoxicated as he lowered his hand and rounded his arm around Y/N’s waist.

Luke’s breath got caught in his lungs as he watched how Y/N’s body movements came to a halt and her eyes widened in discomfort, her smile seemed stiff but she didn't stop laughing or talking to the guy. Luke could feel his blood boil as he watched his girl in the arms of someone else, acting like nothing was happening and that everything was fine, in front of him.

“What the fuck?” He muttered under his breath. Debating on whether he should go and punch that dude in the face. No matter how important he was in the industry, he wanted him away from Y/N immediately.

But he didn’t move and neither did Y/N. Luke didn’t know if it was because she physically couldn’t or because…

No, he rejected that thought immediately. It was clear to him by her eyes that she was desperate to get away from his touch. And apparently not only to him because the moment that man put his hands around her Ashton and Michael called his attention away from her, moving a few steps back so Y/N could have more space to free herself the moment she could. Calum had his eyes on her, too, with his arm placed to his side as if he were to take her away from there at any second.

Yet the man did not move an inch away from her. Instead, his hand trailed lower with every word he spoke, until Luke couldn’t see it anymore. All he could see what’s Y/N’s uncomfortable face as she suddenly jumped forward, fear written all over her eyes.

Luke let out a curse as he took a step forward, ready to beat that man’s face to dust. But he stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait!” Danielle said, eyes locked on the scene played in front of them.

Luke stared ahead and let out a breath of relief when he saw Calum taking Y/N away from the group and towards the bar, seemingly excusing themselves to get a drink. He saw how his friend’s arm rounded around her shoulders, making it impossible for her to look back and for anyone else to notice her face as they walked away with no intentions of coming back.

Luke lost sight of them as he watched them disappear into the party. “Good,” he thought “At least she’ll be safe and away from him” But that thought did not calm the rage he felt towards the creep that dared touch her in front of her friends.

“I’m going to kill him” He hissed, once again trying to step forwards but once again being pushed back by Ashton’s girl.

“The guys got it covered,” She said, her sweet voice laced with a warning as she whispered loud enough for only them to hear “They will handle it and make sure they never work with that man, ever. It’s not the first time this has happened”

“This happened before?!” Luke said, attracting some curious eyes to him. But he couldn’t care less about it at the moment.

The girls looked at each other and then at Luke. How could they explain to the man that this happens more times than Y/N would be able to admit? They knew first hand how the industry was full of creeps and disgusting men, having dealt with them in the past as well, but Y/N…

She was the front girl, the main focus of attention. She was beautiful, talented, hot… that’s all they saw, never caring about her caring personality, or how intelligent she was, how she was the driven force of 5SOS. She was more than her looks, she was a girl trying to live her dreams. But men only seem to see one thing.

“I’m going to check on them,” Kat said as she walked towards where Calum disappeared with Y/N. Bethany mentioned going to Michael to try and make them get away from the conversation they were still having with that fucker.

And Luke stood there, not able to do anything “Y/N wouldn’t want you to cause a scene, that’s why the boys never do it anymore. She knows how important image is for all of them and a scandal is the last thing they need right now. Especially if some “random dude” goes and punch one of the biggest names in the industry”

Danielle was right and he hated that. He hated that he couldn’t do anything to defend his girl because she didn’t want to be defended. But the fact that she knew how to handle these kinds of things didn’t make it any less wrong or difficult for him to ignore. More so because their relationship was still kept a secret.

Luke couldn’t help but think that maybe if people knew they were together, things like these wouldn’t happen. After all, the only thing men like Anthony respected was the presence of another man.

Ashton and Michael returned after a minute, both of them with their jaws clenched and eyes filled with the same feeling of powerless Luke felt.

“Where is she?” Ashton asked, standing beside Dani and holding her close by the waist, almost as if he were scared something might happen to her.

“Kat went to check on them, they still haven’t returned,” She said, comforting her boyfriend by running her hand up and down his arm.

“This is bullshit” Luke murmured, frustration lacing his voice as he grabbed one drink from one of the waitresses and drowned it in one go without flinching. He turned around and started walking away from the group.

“Where are you going?” Michael asked, half concerned and half furious from him walking away at this moment.

“I need air” He answered as he took another drink and walked through the garden doors. Not even sparing a glance back when Y/N called his name as she watched him go.

Luke spent most of the night going back and forwards between the main hall and the garden. He drank whatever was being offered to him and sat down on a bench as he watched the casual smokers come outside, accompanying him from a distance.

He knew he was being childish. He didn’t understand much about the industry, nor how people that worked in it were. All Luke knew was that Y/N was nothing like them; she was not greedy, nor was she a creep, she wasn’t evil or ill-hearted and she didn’t deserve what happened.

He wanted to be with her, apologize for his shitty behavior, and tell her that he loved her. Because he did. He loved her with all his heart and it hurts him to see her like that. But every time he stepped through those doors back to the main hall - every time more intoxicated than the others - she was nowhere to be found. Or she didn’t want to be found, but that didn’t stop Luke from looking for her.

And every time, wherever he found her, she would have company. Sometimes she would be with the boys and their girlfriends laughing along with some other group of people - usually men - that stood a little too close and personal with her. Other times she would be on her own, talking to some guy or girl he didn’t know, too preoccupied with her conversation to even notice Luke standing at a distance, looking at her with longing eyes as he tried to find the courage to talk to her.

Then, he would go back to the bar, order his drink and go back outside or with the group, tightening the grip on his glass as he watched the girl he loves being swept away in conversations he couldn’t be a part of, after all, he was just one of the composers and her friend. Nothing else.

The guys and their girlfriends tried to cheer him up, including him in conversations and inviting him to dance. They knew how new this was to him, having to remind themselves every once in a while when they caught his sad eyes dancing across the room on the looks of his fleeting love.

“She came looking for you a few minutes ago while you were outside,” Dani told him the third time he came by the group.

“Why didn’t she go out with me?” He asked, eyes on Y/N as she talked to Michael and one of the producers they met in London a few years back.

“She was going to,” Ashton chimed in “She walked over there but I think Niall caught wind of her and they started to catch up”

Luke clenched his jaw at the thought of Y/N with other men. His mind couldn’t help but to go back to all those articles about her exes, her possible new partners, her possible future partners. Cheating scandals, break-up songs, parties where she didn’t leave alone… All the things she refused to acknowledge came to the surface, hitting Luke in the face as he realized that they might not all be lies.

He hated to think about her that way, to think that he didn’t trust her enough or that she didn’t trust him enough or whatever the fuck was wrong with them. But as he saw how Y/N hugged a stranger, all his thoughts went out the window.

“Who is that?” He asked no one in particular.

“Who?” Bethany asked in response, following Luke’s stare towards her friend “Oh, that’s Josh”

“Josh? As in Josh Benthlow? Her ex?”

Beth furrowed her eyebrows as she saw the look of pure rage on the blonde’s eyes “Uh, yeah? But you got something wrong there” She said, “They never dated”

Y/N laughed at something Josh said, pushing him playfully on the shoulder as he kept telling his story. Luke recognized the look in his eyes; it was the same way he used to look at Y/N when they first met: Pure adoration. And, he didn’t know if it was the alcohol in his system that was making him see things that weren’t there, but he could swear he saw Y/N flirt back at him.

“Friends don’t act like that” He spat, taking another sip from his drink, already losing count of how many he had that night.

“Hey!” Beth called his attention, taking the drink from him “That’s enough now. Alcohol is making you act like a complete asshole”

“I-”

“I don’t care.” She said, interrupting whatever he had to say before he even said it “Look, I get that you’re getting used to all of this. But you need to stop with the jealous act right this instant. She’s famous, yes, they all are and that means that you will have to share her with the world whether you like it or not. It’s her dream after all, and besides Y/N would never do something like that to hurt you and you know it”

Did he?

Not long after the group decided to go back to the hotel, having already stayed at that party longer than necessary given that they have a show the next day. The ride back was quiet, everyone either being too tired to even speak or too smart to try and cut the tension that was being created by the new couple’s behavior. Even when Y/N sat next to Luke he didn’t acknowledge her, keeping his eyes looking outside the window the whole car ride.

Y/N was one of the first ones to get out of the car, walking up to the elevators and not waiting for anyone as the doors closed.

Luke clenched his jaw as he contemplated not going to their room tonight, fighting with the feeling of not wanting to see her and the feeling of never wanting to let her go.

“You need to go there right now,” Calum said, taking a step next to Luke but not looking in his eyes “Having been her friend for so long I can see that she’s upset… Nah, fuck that. Even idiots can see that she’s upset”

Luke scoffed “She’s the one that’s upset?” Voice laced with sarcasm.

Calum hummed “Guess not every idiot can see that” He pressed the button of the elevator and hoped in with Kat, not waiting for Luke as the door closed in his face, but not before saying “You’re not the only one hurting, you know?”

It took another 20 minutes for Luke to open the door of their room. Again, Y/N was nowhere to be seen, but the light coming from under the closed bathroom door let him know that she was there.

He sat at the edge of the bed, hands covering his face as he now wished he hadn't drunk as much as he did. His head was spinning, he couldn’t decipher if it were because of the alcohol or because of his intrusive thoughts that wouldn’t leave his head.

Y/N got out of the bathroom for what it felt like an eternity later. She was wearing her Spongebob pajama and her hair was tied in a messy bun. Her makeup-less face looked tired as she didn’t glance at Luke before sitting by her side of the bed.

They stayed in silence for another five minutes before she decided to speak.

“Are we going to talk about tonight?” She said, voice neutral of any emotion.

Luke scoffed “Now you want to talk?”

She ignored him “I didn’t see you all night, Luke. I was worried”

“Oh, you were?” He mocked with cruel sarcasm as he got up from the bed and started pacing around the room “Funny way to show it you weren’t around!”

“I wasn’t around?! Luke, you spent half the night outside! Every time I came over you were nowhere to be found!”

“And every time I was there you were too busy talking to other people”

“I was working, Luke!” She said with a groan, massaging her temple as she turned to look at him “It’s part of my job to make connections at these kinds of events. And if you didn’t notice, Calum, Ashton, and Michael did the same”

“Well, you must be pretty damn good at your job then!”

Y/N looked at him, shocked by the way he was speaking to her “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Luke was angry at her question. How could she not know? “Why don’t you ask Josh what I mean?”

“Oh my fucking GOD,” She said with the loudest tone he’s ever heard her talk “That’s what this is all about?! He’s a friend!”

“I was a friend, too and we still fucked!” Luke matched her tone of voice, probably waking the people in the room next to theirs.

Y/N laughed humorlessly “You have no right to-”

“And whose fault is that? Huh? Whose fault is that I cannot call you my girlfriend in front of other people? Whose fault is that I have to stand to the side and watch you flirt with every guy on earth just because “it’s your job”?” He asked “Y/N, I’m trying so hard for you to let me in and the only thing you do is push me away! Are you embarrassed by me in any way?”

“No,” She said, finally meeting his eyes and seeing no more anger in them, just an incredible sadness for both of them “No, of course not”

“Then why?” Luke asked, taking a step towards her and cupping her cheek with one hand “Why can’t you let me protect you? Why can’t I be with you freely? I know some things are hard for you to talk about, love. I get that. But I’m drowning here, not knowing what to think or what to say to make you trust me”

Y/N stayed quiet as she looked into his eyes before looking away. Luke sighed.

“We don’t have to talk about this right now. But we’ll have to do it eventually”

“I know,” She said with a string of voice.

“Sorry for the things I said”

“I’m sorry, too”

Luke wanted to kiss her, to comfort her. Even though he is still mad at her, he still has this need to protect her from the wrongs of the world. But she’s got to let him in first.

Instead, Luke placed a kiss on her head and walked towards the bathroom to get changed for the night. When he came back Y/N was already asleep on her side of the bed, her back turned to Luke’s side.

He let out a sigh as he turned off the lights, laying down facing the other side as he murmured a “Good night” Barely missing the soft sniff she gave in response.

The next morning Luke woke up without her by his side. He felt a tug in his heart as he remembered all the things he said to her, the cruel way in which he implied that it was all her fault when both of them had a bit of blame to put in their names. He wouldn’t be surprised if in the middle of the night she decided to leave and sleep somewhere else.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, ready to give her a call and apologize properly, hoping she’d pick up. But just as he was about to press the call button, the door opened.

Y/N walked in, sandwich and orange juice in hand. A small smile came to her lips when she saw him already awake.

“Hey,” She said softly, almost like if there were someone else in the room that was sleeping “You missed breakfast, so I bought you this. It’s now much but-“

“Thank you,” Luke said with complete honesty.

Y/N nodded, walking up to his nightstand to place the drink and the sandwich. But before she could walk away again, Luke grabbed her softly by the arm.

“Luke-“

“I’m sorry,” He said, his baby blue eyes looking into hers. He was sad to see no emotion in them compared with how shiny they were yesterday before the fight “I didn’t mean it”

Y/N let out a sigh as she sat on the bed next to him “No, you’re not” She said almost resignedly “And yes, you did. And it’s okay, I deserve it”

Luke shook his head, feeling even worse than before “No, Y/N I was out of place and-“

“You were, but that didn’t make your words any less than truthful. I hurt you, Luke. Even without wanting to” She said with a broken voice, but the tears didn’t come “But I want to change that. Tonight, we can talk after the concert. Okay?”

“I don’t want to pressure you” His hand flew to her face, placing a strand of hair behind her back. She smiled softly and kissed the palm of his hand.

“I know, but I want to” Finally, she got up from the bed and started walking into the bathroom, gathering some of her things. “We’ll start early today with some interviews and sound check, and the girls wanted to go shopping so they’ll meet us there. I will send a car for you before the concert and then we’ll talk. Alright?”

She grabbed her back and headed towards the door, giving Luke one last look and a soft smile before she left.

Luke didn't forget how she didn’t kiss him before she closed the door.

The day passed by and Luke was still in their room. He sat in front of the table with his notebook and pen, writing up words that, at that moment, reminded him of her.

He didn’t like how they were acting with each other. How quick everything went to shit after last night’s mistakes when words were louder than actions until those words became apologies.

Y/N said he didn’t mean his apology, and deep down he knew it to be true. He regrets the way he told her, admiring that he would have handled things a little better than he did. But he meant what he said about her pushing him away by not communicating. They were both trying but apparently, they sucked at it.

Truth was, there was no one to blame. Truth was, they were both at fault. And, truth was that he would still fall to his knees for her the moment she asked. Because he had never loved someone as much as he loved her.

When the time of the concert was almost upon him, he quickly jumped into the shower, ignoring all the beeps and rings of his phone as his thoughts and hopes filled his mind. He thought about what he was going to say to her, and he hoped that they could finally get past this and leave this whole situation behind; to start over and just be free.

He was putting on his shirt when his phone started beeping again, finally checking it to see what the fuss was all about.

Thousands upon thousands of notification flooded his screen, and they all said the same thing:

“Y/N AND MADDEN BACK TOGETHER?!”

“THE ENCOUNTER OF THE YEAR! MADDEN BANKS AND Y/N L/N SEEN TOGETHER AGAIN TALKING ON THE OUTSIDES OF THE VENUE”

“OMG Y/N X MADDEN SHIPPER REJOICE AS THE COUPLE SEEMS TO HAVE REKINDLED THEIR RELATIONSHIP AFTER CHEATING SCANDAL”

Luke felt as if an elephant was standing on top of his chest, losing his balance and falling to the bed with his phone in hand, unable to look away from his screen.

His breathing became elaborated as his eyes filled with tears as he read the tweets and article titles. He knew he shouldn’t click on them. He knew. And yet…

“Lead singer of the band 5 Seconds of Summer, Y/N L/N was last seen talking to her ex-boyfriend, Madden Banks, in a secluded alley outside the venue where the band is going to perform their concert tonight.

We last saw the couple last year around August when Madden announced their breakup after cheating scandals came out to the surface. None of the parties made any comments about it, but it was set to believe that Y/N was the one who committed the mistakes after a set of tweets on Bank’s personal account where it said that he was feeling “broken-hearted” by the situation and he hoped no one had to get through that ever again.

Now it seems that the past is the past! As Y/N and Madden were caught by paparazzi talking again, and by the looks on both their faces it seemed like their relationship was not over after all!

We are still waiting for confirmations from either of them but congratulations to the couple ❤️”

A set of pictures were attached to the article. All of them of bad quality and from questionable sources.

On the first one, you could see Madden smiling with Y/N’s back facing the camera. On the second one, Madden was closer to her, almost cradling her face as if to kiss her. The third picture had Madden pointing out the paparazzi, a surprised expression plastered on his face as Y/N appeared out of focus. The last picture had Y/N walking away with Madden following behind, both of them with angry faces seemingly for being interrupted.

Luke was gripping on his phone tightly, a sense of rage coming over him as he wiped his tears furiously and walked up the door. Turning off his phone before he could read Y/N’s message:

Y/N: it’s not true! Let me explain…

He did not go to the concert that night, nor did he stay in their bedroom, opting for sleeping in the room that was originally assigned to him.

His emotions walked him into a bar last night, letting him drown his sorrows in alcohol as he slowly drifted away from his senses. He doesn’t remember getting to the hotel, but he does remember not wanting to be with her that night. Feeling betrayed and used, what was the point?

It was pretty late when he woke up the next morning, too late for Y/N to even be in the hotel knowing that they still needed to do a lot of press before traveling to their next destination. It was sufficient to say that he was not going to go with them.

He was about to book a flight when he noticed his phone died while being turned off last night. He was in such a rush that he forgot to bring his charger with him, but he felt confident that it was safe for him to go back to her room now that she was gone. He would pack all his things and leave, he was not about to endure any of this shit anymore, no matter how much it hurts him.

When he opened the door to her room, however, Luke noticed that he was not alone.

“You didn’t come last night”

Y/N was standing by the window, looking at the street through the thin curtain, hoping she might catch a glimpse of Luke walking back to her. She was wearing the hotel’s robe and had her hair tied in a ponytail. Her voice was fragile, tired, and broken as if she spent all night crying.

“Good,” thought Luke “at least we’ll both be miserable”

Luke didn’t answer that, instead, he just asked “I thought you’d be doing the press tour”

She shook her head, her back still facing him as she sniffed “I couldn’t go. I didn’t know where you were”

He would’ve thought it was touching and he might’ve felt bad for her if she hadn’t shattered his heart the night before. So he said nothing.

“I needed you last night, Luke,” She said, voice a little firmer as she finally turned around. Luke’s heart ached when he saw her delicate figure, she looked sick, pale, and tired. Her eyes were puffy and her nose was red from all the crying. Part of him wanted to go to her and hold her, but her betrayal was still too fresh on his skin.

Luke scoffed “Sure you did” He didn’t intend for his voice to sound with such malice, but it was almost as if his tongue had a brain on itself “Was Madden not enough?”

“Stop,”

“Is he here?” He asked, voice mocking interest as he walked around the room “C’mon Asshole!” He called, opening the closet doors and walking into the bathroom “You won, motherfucker, you can have her! It’s not like it’s hard anyway”

Her eyes widened at his words, cheeks turning pink at the realization of the insult “Luke!”

“Was this part of your plan?” He asked, turning towards her with nothing but the rage inside his eyes “To bring me here to make him jealous? To make me fall for you so easily? Is that why we never went public? Ha! Should’ve known you just wanted a free pass to whore around while still making sure you have a secure fuck waiting back at the hotel”

Y/N froze. Not even Luke could believe the words that were coming out of his mouth, but he was too far gone in his own anger to process them or to take them back.

“This is the part where you apologize,” She said, eyes filling with tears she refused to spill.

“No, this is the part where I tell you to fuck off” Luke spat, taking a step towards her, not realizing how she flinched as she took a step back “You know, I tried so fucking hard for months to make you happy. And every day I read those fucking articles that were talking shit about you and every fucking day I told myself that those weren’t real. That you weren’t like that… surprise, surprise! Looks like the cat is out of the bag. Makes sense! That’s why you never wanted to talk, you never wanted to admit to what you did because you never take any fucking responsibilities for the damages you cause! I thought I knew you, at least some parts of you. Turns out everyone is right about you. Every fucking word of it”

He turned around, ready to grab his things and go, but the adrenaline was kicking in and he just couldn’t stop.

“Tell Madden that he’s an idiot for taking you back,” He said with his back turned to her “That he should’ve left your cheating ass alone. Let you get what you deserve”

“I never cheated” She mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

He scoffed “Yeah, right”

“I never fucking cheated!” Y/N raised his voice, making Luke turn around to face her. Her face was red with tears and she had her fist clenched to her sides, knuckles white from all the pressure she was putting in.

“I never cheated on Madden! I never fucking cheated on you! On anyone! He cheated on me, repeatedly and with several people for all the course of our relationship! I never touched a person outside ANY of my relationships. I have been nothing but faithful to you and now you’re throwing that shit at me without knowing an ounce of my side of the story?!

You want to know, Luke, why I never tell the story as it was? Why it’s so fucking hard for me to tell the story even to the people I love?”

It was a challenge, he knew from the look in her eyes that she was not going to stay quiet any longer. She didn’t even wait for his answer.

“I was fucking abused, Luke! Physically, mentally, sexually… you fucking name it! During that whole relationship. Want me to tell you the details or you could figure it out yourself?! I was getting beaten almost daily! I had to hide the bruises and cuts in front of the guys as they slowly watched me fall apart. I had to lie to them for YEARS because I genuinely thought he loved me. He said he did so I believed him. It wasn’t until one night where he got too far that I had to tell myself that it was enough. But what could I say? I was so fucking embarrassed I couldn’t go to the media that calls me a liar every chance they have! I couldn’t go to the police because he has money and could easily get away with it! I was so fucking alone until I met you and… You took his side”

Luke felt like his heart was taking a punch with every word that she said. Every tear that fell off her eyes was like a knife in the back. The guilt was eating him inside out, crashing into him like a tsunami. He should’ve kept his mouth shut, he shouldn’t have let his emotions take the reins, he should’ve... He felt all of his emotions turn to mush, all but shame as he stared into her eyes knowing he was the one who fucked up.

“Y/N-“

“I needed you last night when he cornered me. I needed you by my side as I broke down backstage because you weren’t answering your phone. How do you think I felt when I came into our room and found it empty? I was ready to tell you everything and then you just decided that wasn’t worth it anymore. That I wasn’t worthy anymore. All without giving me a chance” She cried, shattering sobs running through her body as she remembered the feeling of hopelessness she had “Not only that, but I come to find this on your side of the bed”

She threw his notebook at him, he didn’t need to open it to know what she read. Already regretting leaving it there.

“Sometimes, you're a stranger in my bed

Don't know if you love me or you want me dead.

Some days, you're the best thing in my life

Sometimes when I look at you, I see my wife

Then you turn into somebody I don't know

And you push me away

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late-night devil, put your hands on me

And never let go”

She recited the words by memory, having read them over and over again as she waited for him to come back.

“Is that really how you see me, Luke?” She asked, voice broken as she looked into his eyes.

Luke felt his body tremble with shame as he looked at her. He has never seen her look so sad and fragile before, the smile he loved so much was gone and he knew he might never see it again. He wanted to scream that that’s now how he saw her at all. Those words were written out of frustration, out of anger. He wanted to tell her that she’s the most amazing, loving, strong, intelligent person he know but... how could he even look her in the eyes?

He knew that he went too far. That he should’ve given her a chance to explain what happened instead of just letting the media fill his brain with lies; lies he believed without question because of his insecurities. He broke the strongest girl he’s ever known, but she was still standing.

Despite the hurt, he caused her, she was still standing in front of him. Demanding answers he doesn’t know how to give. Still being so much braver than him.

“Y/N, I-“ He began, voice breaking as he was left speechless. How could he ask for her forgiveness now that he broke every ounce of trust she held for him?

“Luke, I think you should leave,” She said, rounding her arms around her torso as she looked back at the window. Unable to hold her gaze to him any longer.

“No,” Luke begged of her. Pleaded, even “Y/N, baby don’t-“

“Leave” She repeated more firmly “If I’m such a monster, the best thing we can do is for you to go home”

She turned her back to him once again, and he knew that he had just lost the battle he was too scared to even fight.

Y/N cried silent tears as she heard him gather his belongings and pack his bags, feeling as if she might collapse into the floor if she weren’t holding herself too tightly. If she concentrated, she could hear him cry, too, until he closed the last of his bags and walked through the door.

Because, after all, he would still go to the ends of the world if she asked.

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