#jesus i was supposed to go to bed forever ago but i got really focused in on this question LOL

[neonun-au]

thoughts on k r&b? favorite artists/producers? i trust your opinion…..

if you want something more specific then rank beenzino’s discography lol

wow this sent me down a rabbit hole lmao i used to dip my toes a LOT into k r&b but i fell out of it after a while cause the rappers that crossed over with it so often started to annoy me a lil bit when show me the money became like...a big thing LMAO so so many of my faves are old old

beenzino has a great discography. hes definitely up there as a fave. 24 26 girl live life like a fish...still top peak album so good.

i mean zion.t is a classic and he undeniably made so much good stuff, but primary was really where it was at for me. he seems to have sort of...disappeared, but his 2012 album??? unreal. SEETHRU?????

what happened to sonnet son? she was so interesting and its so hard to find her stuff now fdjksf ms. burgundy was my fucking jam the year it came out i was so into it

i kind of fell off of it around the time dean started gaining popularity but his first album i still love. 21 is a solid bop every time i listen to it

simon d. simon dominic. simon d o m i n i c oh oh. classic. he makes great stuff. cheerz still goes as hard as ever

suran is always a good listen. like no matter what she does, her voice just comes through so nicely.

gray had a hand in a lot of songs i really loved back in the day, and to this day still he's making some interesting stuff. blink was and still is a real fave (esp the remix)

giriboy has been making a lot of things lately that i very much enjoy as well, and he has been a staple for a while i think !

i also sort of miss kanto? he did some really fun collabs with some idols. his song with infinite's sunggyu was one i listened to a lot back in the day. i should catch up with his stuff

crush is good, but i never really got too much into his stuff. i loved his song 'sometimes' but i loved the cover by jamie park (ne jimin park) a lot more than the original tbh i was trying to find it but its so impossible fjhdaskjfd maybe ill have to upload it from my itunes

dynamic duo's 7th album (luckynumbers) is one that i really enjoyed. it was like...nice summertime r&b.

i used to listen to this guy called eachone a lot. he had an album in 2012 called diorama that i was really really in love with. especially the song i like...

this soulights album in particular

sexyhomme had some mixtapes that i loved that sort of straddled the line between r&b and hip hop a lot, but i always loved them. theyre difficult to find now, but he has some stuff up on spotify that is still very good ! (also 0 monthly listeners??? wth?)

do you remember that cover of officially missing you that geeks did? i dont know what happened to them but i still listen to that song. they did one with jo hyunah of urban zakapa too called just go and i really love that song

as far as the current k r&b scene goes, i think that bibi and bi (funny) are making some really interesting stuff ! btbt blew my fucking mind so im happy to see him doing some stuff. and bibi is hit or miss for me with her actual songs but i always think she's doing something interesting.

mino's last album is genuinely phenomenal. im so into it. i think he has been doing some really interesting things for a while now but that album was sort of the best of him all boiled down into one package. i loved kill and the title track tang ofc

sam kim put out a nice album in 2018 that i got to late but its a great time.

i would be remiss if i didnt mention feeldog !! ex-idol now doing a lot of production and his own solo stuff. and its all exceptionally good and very underrated. detox really is a favourite of mine this year, such a gem

the scene has changed so much from when i used to actively pay attention to it i dont even really know who is still in it beyond the k r&b that is so seeped into the fabric of kpop itself now. im glad so many idols are finding some purchase in the genre through solo careers and stuff, like genuinely i love yugyeoms r&b, and baekhyun and kai make some really solid stuff.

honestly it seems to me like the future of k r&b is a lot of idols / ex idols who genuinely grew up on and love the genre and are bringing their flavour and experience from the pop industry side of things to r&b and i think thats pretty cool. its always been rather interwoven, but you see more and more crossover now than ever before

#jesus i was supposed to go to bed forever ago but i got really focused in on this question LOL #i know there are so many that im missing #just by the nature of it but #replies #naptimed #also the muddy waters of kpop / k r&b #i was trying to keep it mostly #....non pop focused??? but i do love a lot of what idols are doing rn in the k r&b sphere #the old guard has sort of faded away it seems #this is so long and so like....disorganized im so sorry lmao

[thorne93]

History Repeats (Part 1)

Prompt: Life’s hard, right? Well throw in a not so great job, a broken heart, and chasing a pipe dream in LA. But could someone come along to make all the bad shit disappear? Or is he just another heartbreak waiting around the bend?

Warnings: language, drug addiction, alcohol addiction, angst/heartbreak

Word Count: 1562

Note: Aesthetic made by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo because she’s absolutely amazing Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo . Brainstorming from @carryonmyswansong

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

“I wanted a room with two queens and an east facing window!” the woman with short, curled hair informed for the tenth time, her face already beet red as she yelled at you.

“Ma’am, I am sorry. I see we booked you with two queens and you’ll be on our seventh floor, with a south facing window,” you started to explain calmly.

“Does south sound like east to you? Jesus Christ, where do they hire you lazy brats?” she asked. 

Your poker face didn’t waiver though. You didn’t close your eyes, or take a deep breath, or shake your head slightly. You continued to smile and apologize. 

“You’re absolutely right, ma’am. But with the awards in the city and the influx of visitors for the winter--”

“I don’t care if all of Europe is here, I booked this trip over three months ago! My room should be available to me now!” she shouted, causing other patrons in the nearly full lobby to stare at the two of you. 

That was the good and bad thing about being a hotel right outside the city center, just on the outskirts. You didn’t get entirely booked a lot, but on rare occasions you did, it meant something.

You had been asked to step in for your coworker Danielle, when the woman found out she wasn’t on an east facing window. You’d been going back and forth with her for over twenty minutes now, her screaming in your face. This wasn’t super atypical as a hotel manager. Angry patrons of the hotel, confused guests, exhausted tourists, frustrated honeymooners...It was your job to ensure every stay here was a pleasant one, and you did want that. Why wouldn't you? But on some days, people like Mrs. Taucht here really wore on your nerves. Why did people have to be so cruel and mean when all you were doing was trying to provide them with excellent service? 

Smiling your best customer smile, you offered sweetly, “I am terribly sorry. I can refund you some of your money and perhaps you could take the south facing room, and as soon as an east facing room is available I’ll inform you.”

“Some?! Some of my money?” she shrieked, shaking her head. “I want all of my money back and free room service! This is absolutely ridiculous.” She turned to look to another guest waiting to check in. “Do you believe this?” she asked him, and you’d been so preoccupied focusing on her, you hadn’t noticed that the lobby was so getting backed up. You quickly turned to Danielle. 

“Open up check in five, and start taking everyone from this line immediately. Check everyone in as fast as you can,” you quietly spoke to her as Mrs. Taucht ranted to the man in the line behind her. 

Danielle nodded and waved everyone over from your line, telling them that she could help them at the end of the counter, while Todd, Eric, and Trish helped as quickly as they could on their lanes. 

“Actually, I can,” the man with golden hair responded politely. “I’ve been to this city many times and you wouldn’t believe how crowded it can get and how fast,” he informed.

“But I made these reservation months ago,” she reiterated.

“Well, with all respect, ma’am, you do have a room,” the guest retorted. “It’s just not the one you wanted. If I were you, I would ask for a full refund of your room, take that, and go the room they have booked for you. I would prefer any room, to standing here in the lobby, shouting at the manager…But that’s just me.”

Mrs. Taucht stared at the man, then turned back to you slowly. “What he said,” she sighed. “Can you give me the full refund and forget the room?”

“Absolutely, ma’am. It was our mistake, and I do apologize. I will throw in free breakfast every day for your stay, for your patience and understanding. Is that alright?”

She nodded her head side to side. “I would say that’s fair. Thank you.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I will get to work on this refund for you, and it’ll be settled when you leave, okay?” you sweetly said.

“Alright.”

At that, she took her things and left, heading for the elevators to the rooms. You wanted to take a deep breath, but refrained, trying to keep composure for the nice guest that was next. 

“Just a moment, sir, let me enter some notes for her account,” you said politely before clacking in all the notes for you to finish later tonight. “I deeply apologize for that. I know you’ve been waiting and now you’re about to wait more.” You let a small laugh out, hoping to lighten the mood.

“I’m in no rush, besides, you’ve got your hands full,” he said with a sideways grin. He was rather handsome, now that he was closer. Warm, brown eyes, dark blonde hair, a reserved smile...But something about him seemed familiar. He had said he stayed in the city a lot. Maybe he’d checked in once before. But...his face didn’t look like one you’d forget. 

“You noticed that, hmm?” you asked with a bigger laugh. 

“Hard to miss,” he remarked.

“Too true. Thank you, for putting in a good word for me, there, by the way,” you said. This random man had no  reason to stick up for you or make your job or day easier. 

“Oh it was nothing. I was just trying to get her to move so I could get checked in,” he said evenly.

The humor whisked away from you as you nodded, realizing he wasn’t really helping you.

“Right,” you concurred, as you finished up the notes, your eyes shooting down to the computer screen. 

He leaned forward and smiled at you. “I’m joking. I was happy to help.”

Your eyes flitted back up to him as a giant grin spread across your face. This was new for you, unusual. People didn’t really go out of their way to help you. You were a bit of a wallflower all your life. Not an outcast, but not the brightest star. You were the girl that no one picked out of a crowd. You were the girl that was overlooked, rather than looked over. It wasn’t so much your looks, you’d always felt you looked average. But that was the problem: you were average. Average looks, average grades, average car, average education. Nothing about you was stellar.

Maybe that’s why Jason had left. Your boyfriend of two years had decided to dump you five days ago, just after the new year. What a way to kick it off…

“Well thank you, again. What name is your reservation under?” you asked as you queued to the page to look up check ins.

“Hayden...Christensen,” he warmly informed, seeming to hesitate though.

You smiled and nodded. “Ah. Found you. Two queens, sixth floor, room 602. Is that alright?”

“As long as it has a bed and a TV, I could care less,” he said with a shrug and a smile. 

“Simple man?” you lightly inquired as you got out his room keys and began to scan the code to them.

“Relatively,” he replied with another shrug. “You? Simple woman?” he asked. 

“In some ways, yeah, I’d like to think so,” you said, contemplating. 

“And in others?” he inquires.

“Well...none of us are simple, are we?” you questioned, a bit of ominimity in your voice. 

He nodded slightly. “I suppose that’s true.” 

You stared at him a moment longer, not exactly realizing you were staring until it became awkward and you realized you needed to hand him the room keys and information. 

“Ah! Here are your keys, here is a brochure to the spa, restaurants, and room service. Here is the number to the concierge, the manager--me, and the hotel operator,” you said, pointing at everything with a pen.

“Thank you very much,” he said, taking his cards and the pamphlet. 

“Any time, sir. I’m Y/N if you need anything, or if you need a manager, feel free to give me a call at any time,” you said warmly. Typically, you didn’t lay on that extra charm unless a customer was overtly rude or incredibly nice, and in this case he was incredibly nice, very handsome, and you still had this gnawing feeling that you’d seen him somewhere before. Therefore, if he was a returning patron to the hotel, you wanted to make him feel extra special.

“Will do. Thanks,” he said as he grabbed his bags, waved to you, and took off toward the elevators.

Once he was out of sight, you dealt with the new family coming up to check in and your day continued as usual. The rest of the shift, you were racking your brain trying to remember where you’d seen him from. You couldn’t place it at all, and that bothered you because typically you didn’t forget a face. After awhile though, you shrugged it off, figuring it would come to you later.

In your down time, after verifying the room service orders were fulfilled, requests were taken care of, and the kitchen staff was on schedule, you sat down and began playing around with some music, scribbling down some lyrics in your ratty notebook that you carried with you everywhere.

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

Forever Tag: 

@essie1876

@magpiegirl80

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

@marvel-imagines-yes-please

@missinstantgratification

@thejemersoninferno

@rda1989

@munlis

@thefridgeismybestie

@bubblyanarocks3

@igiveupicantthinkofausername

@kaliforniacoastalteens

@feelmyroarrrr

@kaeling

@friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo 

@damalseer

@heyitscam99

@yknott81​

@sorryimacrapwriter

@glitterquadricorn

@bittersweetunicorm

@alyssaj23 

@alyssaj23

@princess76179

@thisismysecrethappyplace

@sarahp879

@malfoysqueen14

@ellallheart

@breezy1415

@marvelmayo

@lyniboy

@paintballkid711

@pandacookieowo

History Repeats/Hayden

@haydens-moles

#history repeats #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen fic #hayden christensen

[kkysolo]

Stuck On You / Chpt. 2

Prologue / Chapter One

Pairing: Ben Solo|Kylo Ren/Reader (female) Setting: Modern AU - Cyberpunk, dystopia, gangs, best friends to lovers.  Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, language, emotional reactions, classism, poverty, war, co-dependent relationships (eventual fluff, smut, romance).

A/N: Yeah, I know I said I wasn’t gonna post this story on tumblr anymore because of the anxiety posting on here causes me, but here we are in our clown shoes posting anyway. There is a major language warning for this chapter. Listen, I grew up in a pretty small town in Ireland where many of us were from poorer households and swearing as punctuation just seemed to be how we all spoke growing up. So that’s been a huge inspiration for how our characters in this story speak, though their circumstances are far more dire. Also, a very dialogue heavy chapter. Also, I tend to write in second-person omniscient, which is why you’ll see a lot of head-hopping.

Fic Summary: 

The year is 2084.

Despite its advances, society has collapsed on itself. The world is crooked, damaged, dying. Rezoned into new territories, separating the elite from the unworthy. Civilization is crumbling at your very feet, and in the midst of it all, your best friend, Ben Solo, has been missing for three years. You desperately cling to what’s left of him, hoping that he’ll come home, praying that things will fall back into place.

And then he does. And they don’t. Because life is different when you’re a scoundrel in the midst of a class war.

Available under the cut, and here on AO3

You wake with a start, inhaling sharply as your eyes adjust to the morning light. It cracks through a crooked break in the rotting window shutters, the black paint has long since flaked away to expose it’s decaying wood. You yawn, nuzzling into your pillow. You relish in the quiet of mornings like these - a brief sliver of serenity, of tranquility, amidst a raging war. There’s no patrols this morning, no roar of ion engines, no gunshots, no screaming. No sound, no peep at all from the hell you’ve come to live in. Just the quiet rumble of resistance vehicles, the soothing hum of conversing pedestrians. You stretch, elongating your limbs as you turn away from the window, groggily humming as you do. 

And then, you see him. And then, you scream. 

The pitch of your glass-shattering screech startles him awake, and he jumps out of his sleeping position - his head resting heavily against his fist, his elbow supporting his upper body weight on the arm of one of the only two chairs you own. You scuttle backward frantically, your back hitting the wall - you couldn’t afford a headboard even if you saved. Your bed doesn’t even have a frame. 

“Woah,” he grunts. “You scared the shit out of me.” 

You blink. You can feel it, the panic. You know it’s coming, and you try in vain to calm your heart as it begins to race, pounding against your flesh. You can hear it in your ears, can hear the blood draining from your face. Your breathing starts to catch in your throat as your chest tightens, and you think, for a moment, that you might vomit all over your knees. 

“You look like you’re going to puke,” he comments, rising from his seat. He steps closer to you, but you flinch, and your breathing only accelerates. “It’s alright, it’s just me, it’s Ben,” his tone drops to a soothing murmur as he continues his approach. “It’s just me, sunshine.” 

It’s the nickname that does it, that throws you over the edge. Sobs erupt from your chest with a force, causing you to cough and choke as tears start to spurt, cascading down your cheeks and streaming past your lips. The bed dips as he appears beside you, pulling you to him, right into his chest - and the feeling, how it feels to finally have you like this again, right in front of him, your skin beneath his fingertips, your hair tickling the plains of his cheeks. The moment, this indulgent little fragment of repose, it doesn’t last. You thrash against him, shoving him away with every ounce of strength you can muster first thing in the morning. 

“What the fuck, Ben?” You wail, kicking him away and scooting to the opposite side of the bed. “W-what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you to wake up,” he says - and calmly, too. Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

You look at him incredulously, frantically wiping the tears from your face. Your shock is replaced by a glower. 

“Where have you been,” you grit out, enunciating each word with as much venom as you can. “For the past three fucking years?” 

Ben pauses, eyes falling to the floor. 

“Smuggling,” he mumbles, almost too low for you to hear. 

“Smuggling,” you repeat the word indignantly. “You left us. You left the Resistance, your family, me, to go and fucking smuggle?” 

“It’s not that simpl-” 

You cut him off. You don’t care if it’s not that simple. Everything is that simple. 

“Well what the fuck are you smuggling?” “Just weapons at first, but now with the whole alcohol thing-” “Jesus, Ben, how the fuck did you end up in this mess?” “The Knights of Ren-” “The Kni- the fucking bounty hunters? The fucking gang? Are you fucking for real?” “They fucking found me on the outer rim on that mission with a top tier warrant on my head!” “And?”

“Wh-” Ben looks at you incredulously, mouth half hanging open. “What the fuck do you mean ‘and’? They cut me a deal, I work for them, they don’t hand me over to the Empire.” 

“Work for them? What, you’re hunting bounties, now? Picking us off?”

Ben shifts backward in surprise, a hand running through his raven hair. It’s longer now, than it used to be. 

“No, Jesus. The deal was that I bring in their credits. I smuggle whatever they want me to, I do whatever they want me to - they keep me away from the Empire, and they leave the Resistance alone.”  “Sounds like a sweet fucking deal, bet you’re living the life of luxury,” you fold your arms across your chest, sniffling quietly. 

“Well, I made them enough fucking credits,” he makes a gesture of exasperation with his hands. “But I don’t get a cut. Them leaving you alone is payment enough, as far as they’re concerned. They lose a lot of fucking money not picking up your bounties,” he pauses for a moment, his eyes that had settled on the ground now snap up to meet yours. “Do you know you’ve got a second tier warrant on you?”

You ignore him. Of course you know. 

“I can’t believe that’s what you were doing, that that’s where you were.”  “I was staying alive,”  “We needed you.” “And what fucking use would I have been to anyone dead?” He roars, and you jump only slightly. “What fucking use am I to you if I’m dead?”  “You were as good as, you dick.”  “I always knew I was coming back,” he tries to settle his temper. “I couldn’t have left you forever.” “You left for long enough, didn’t you, though? Because we didn’t know you were coming back.”  “I couldn’t-” “You could have fucking called!” You shriek. “I texted your stupid fucking phone every fucking time I thought of you, which was all the damn time.”  “I know,” he murmurs. “I got them. Your voicemail, too.” 

You can’t help the whimper that escapes you. It feels somewhat like your whole life has just shattered around you.

“I fucking hate you,” you sob. “I absolutely fucking hate you.” 

“No,” Ben murmurs, and he reaches for you again. You swat at him. “You don’t, sunshine. You know you don’t.”

“I do,” you cry. But Ben shakes his head again, and you don’t even see, don’t even notice that he’s crying, that he’s been crying. 

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” he whispers. “Please,” and he tries again - arms winding around your waist as he pulls you to him, sliding you onto his lap. You don’t resist this time. Your head lolls against his chest as you cry, and cry and cry and cry until it feels like your throat is coated in splinters. And he holds you like that, while your hands clutch at his shirt, bunching it in your fists, and he rocks you gently. Humming softly as his own tears drip down onto your scalp. Humming a song - that song. Your song. 

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. 

_______________________________________________________________________

“She can’t see me,” Ben toys with his coffee cup. He sits, hunched over at your kitchen table - if you can call a decaying wooden crate with two chairs as much. “She can’t know.”

“You’re not gonna tell your own mother that you’re alive?”  You’re standing at the counter, watching him from a safe distance. Your anger, your fury has simmered, but hasn’t dissipated. “What the fuck has happened to you?”

“I’m not supposed to be here,” he grits, grinding his teeth. You’ve always hated when he does that. The noise of it would wake you during the night when you’d both shared a closet-sized bedroom some years ago. You’d shared a damp mattress, too. Mold ridden and lumpy and cold. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”

“Then why did you?”

Ben rolls his eyes. 

“What fucking good is it explaining anything to you? You don’t listen.”  “I’ve been listening.”

“Well, you’re not fucking hearing me, then,” he mumbles, focusing his attention on your feet instead of your face. He’s irritated, irate with himself for thinking this would be easy - that you’d leap into his arms without a second thought. Because really, you’ve always been this way. Stubborn, unyielding. The two things he’s always so deeply admired about you are now serving only to undermine his feeble plan. 

“Even if you did want to tell her, she’s leaving on a mission today.” “And dad?” “Going with her,” you sip at your own coffee. It tastes of used filters. “You know Han doesn’t let her go alone.” 

Ben nods solemnly, twirling his cup in his hands. 

“I came for you,” he murmurs. “That’s why I’m here.”  “For me?” 

“I needed to see you,” his voice drops an octave, and it trembles only slightly as he speaks. “And I can keep you safe.” 

You scoff. The concept of safety has been long lost on you. For years now, you’ve endured, survived - but you’ve lost sleep, jumping awake at the sound of an ion engine. You’ve lost blood, lost hair, lost half your sanity simply trying to stay alive. 

“There’s no safety, not here, not anywhere.”

“I can keep you safe,” he springs up from his seat, knocking his empty cup over as he does. “But you need to trust me.” 

“What about your parents? Your friends?” 

He’s inches from you now, biting at his lip in that way that he does, the way that makes them red raw and swollen. He’s determined, adamant that this will work - that you’ll hear him, that you’ll come with him. He needs to know that the past three years haven’t been in vain, that they haven’t been for nothing, that his work, his fucking slavery meant something. 

“My parents don’t need my help, you know that as well as I do,” he murmurs, his voice dropping deeper. “They’re untouchable. You aren’t.” 

“None of us are.”

“You’re my priority,” he insists, and the power he holds with his stance, his figure that looms over you alone almost convinces you of it - that you are. 

“Didn’t feel like that when you fucking disappeared,” you grumble, not stepping back when he moves closer. “And I don’t see how you’re going to be able to protect me. Ben Solo the smuggler, what hold do you have on the Empire?” 

He cocks an eyebrow, his honey eyes twinkling as a soft smirk forms on his lips - and all you can think of is trouble, because that smirk, those eyes - they’ve never led to anything good. 

“Ben Solo? Nothing,” he shrugs. “Kylo Ren, though? Everything.” 

#gonna go run off and drown myself in gin now #god i hate posting dslkjf #i hope you like this so far guys #eek #my writing #stuck on you #kylo ren #ben solo #kylo ren x reader #ben solo x reader #kylo ren x you #ben solo x you #cw: language #cw: emotional reactions

[buriednurbckyrd]

The Breakup Box (1)

She pulled into the parking spot and turned off the car.  She sat for a few moments with the keys in her hand, staring off into space.  Three days ago she had left the compound excited and happy, and now she was back and it was all she could do not to cry.  She rested her forehead against the steering wheel and took several deep breaths.  All she wanted was her bed.  She wished she had the power to teleport herself there instantly, skip the walk where she could run into any number of people.  She clenched her hand around the keys, the sharp metal biting into her skin.  Part of her wanted to find them, her two favorite people, and let them wrap her up in their arms.  Cry out the rest of her tears and spill the whole humiliating tale.  The other part was praying that they were still in Wakanda.  They had been when she left.  Even though they had been expected back during the weekend she still hoped that they had decided to extend their visit.  

“Get up, you coward,” she muttered to herself.  “You can't sit here forever.” She got out of the car and slung her weekend bag over her shoulder before hefting the box that had ridden beside her in the passenger seat.  Pushing the door closed with her hip she made her way inside the building.  The hallways were blessedly empty and she began to wonder if some luck was finally on her side.  But the closer she got to the residential areas she realized there would be no reprieve for her.  Back from Wakanda then, she thought.  Steve and Bucky were clearly home, laughing and joking with Sam.  All three of them were directly in her way, there was no chance of sneaking to her room without being seen.  Steeling herself, she walked into the open living space.  

“Y/N!” The super soldiers cried in unison with brilliant smiles.  

“Hey guys.”  She replied, trying to keep her voice even and calm.  “Have a good trip?”  Bucky frowned at her greeting.  Y/N shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his eyes.  “Hi Sam.”

“Is everything okay, Y/N?”  Steve came around the couch.  “Can I help you with your box?”  

“Uh, Steve...”  Sam looked at the box in her hands and her expression, things adding up for him.  “Maybe we should just let Y/N go on to her room.  She's probably tired from her trip.”  She felt almost faint from relief.  

“Yeah, I'm um.  Pretty beat.  Just gonna...”  She nodded her head in the vague direction of her room.  And then scuttled out of the room as quickly as she could manage.  Steve watched her leave in puzzlement.

“What was that?”  He glanced over at Sam.  “She didn't even look at me.”  

“Don't take it personal, man.  She had the break up box.  Obviously her weekend getaway with Mister Boring didn't go well.”  

“Break up box?”  Bucky looked confused.  Sam sighed.

“You know, after a couple breaks up and you have to pack up the things you've left at your significant others place?  The break up box.”  He explained.  Steve and Bucky shared a look.

“I thought everything was good between them.”  Steve said.  Sam didn't respond for a few moments, but Bucky noticed the subtle eye roll directed at Steve.  

“I'm sure that's what she wanted to think, and everyone else too.  It was only a matter of time if you ask me.  That guy was a bowl of plain oatmeal.”  He glanced over in the direction she had gone.  “I'm only surprised that she didn't dump his ass.”  

“Wait a minute, how do you know she didn't?”  Bucky asked.  

“Dude, weren't you like the most dangerous assassin in the world for seventy years?  And some legendary lady's man before that?  Not to mention the fact that the two of you stick to her like white on rice, following her around like lost little puppies.”  

“What's that got to do with anything?”  

“A lot, actually.  I know Shuri's fixed that stabby part of your stellar personality and the Casanova shtick is a thing of the past since I'm pretty sure the only bed you're heating up these days is Steve's.”

“Jesus, Sam.”  Steve flushed tomato red.  

“Fuck off.”  Bucky growled.

“She's also like your best friend, right?  Don't you know her at all?”

“All right, that's enough,” Steve stepped in before the two men could continue their bickering.  “There's no reason to argue, we're all concerned.  

“Just saying, it's not that difficult to figure out what happened if you follow the signs.  Especially if you know how to read people,” he shot Bucky a frustrated look.  “She was clearly uncomfortable and embarrassed.”

“And she's definitely been crying.”  Steve said softly.  

“Put that together with the fact that she was all jazzed about going to see that guy when she left.   She expected some romance.  And now she's back, upset, and carrying a sad little box of trinkets.”  

“I still don't know how I'm supposed to figure all that out in a span of five minutes.”  Bucky huffed.  

“You're not,” Steve said before Sam could say something snide.  “And you might be good at reading people, but that doesn't mean you're right. Any number of things could have happened.”  He shot back up to his feet.  “Anything could have happened.  Something to her family.  We should go check on her.”  Sam picked up the remote and turned on the TV.  

“I'm telling you, it's a break up.  And if she wanted to talk about it she wouldn't have run off to her room.”  

…

Y/N shut the box in her closet.  She didn't have the emotional energy to even look at it, let alone go through it.  She stood in front of her bed, tempted to just strip down, crawl under the blankets, and slip into the oblivion of sleep.

“No. Go wash your face and brush your damn teeth,” she scolded herself. “I refuse to be a tragic cliche.”  She forced herself to take her time, focusing all her thoughts on the tasks at hand.  It worked for a little while, until she was in her most comfortable pajamas laying in her bed.  Then the thoughts came rushing back.  All those bitter words.  The accusations.  She rolled over and buried her face in a pillow and groaned.  

It had all been a disaster from the beginning.  She tried to plan something fun and special and it had blown up in her face spectacularly.  Worse, she should have seen it coming.  Well, you know what they say about hindsight.  A timid knock at her door interrupted her self pity.  

“Y/N?” She sat up quickly when Steve called out.  Her door cracked open. “Y/N we just wanted to check on you.”  She looked over and saw both his and Bucky's worried faces.  

“I'm fine.” She said tightly.  “Was there anything else?”  She felt terrible when they seemed to flinch at her cool tone.  

“It's just…”  Bucky bit his lip before pushing his way into her room. “Sam thinks you were dumped.”  He cringed.  “I mean...that came out wrong.  We just want to make sure you're really okay.”  Her eyes blazed with anger.  

“I said I'm fine,” she snapped.  “And no offense, but I don't really want to be around a happy, functional couple right now.”  She turned away and stared at the wall.  

“Y/N, sweetheart...”  Steve took a few steps towards her bed.  

“Seriously, I just want to be alone!” She yelled, and cursed herself when her voice cracked.  “Leave me alone.”  She whispered, choking back tears.  There were a few moments of silence and then she heard the men retreat and shut her door with a quiet click.  

The tears streamed down her cheeks now, she couldn't hold them back anymore.  And even though she had ordered Bucky and Steve to leave her room, when she wrapped her arms around herself she couldn't help wishing they hadn't listened.  

And that, she finally admitted to herself, was the root of most, if not all, of her current troubles.

next

***I’ve been wanting to write a poly relationship fic since I dabbled with Steve/Reader/Bucky in a previous work.  I’d love and appreciate any comments/feedback as I work on this. 

#Steve x Bucky #Steve x Reader x Bucky #Stucky x Reader #Reader insert #plus sized reader

[hopelikethemoon]

Homecoming (Javier x Reader) {MTMF} [smut]

Title: Homecoming Rating: Explicit  Length: 3200 Warnings: Smut (not everyone gets a ‘happy ending’ but everyone is still happy) Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set Summerish 1995. ‘95 is a weird year without dates yet. Perhaps that’s a tomorrow task Thanks to everyone who asked for “imperfect sex”.  Summary: Reader gets home after a business trip.

@grapemama​​ @seawhisperer​​ @huliabitch​​ @pedropascalito​​ @rogrsnbarnes​​ @thewallpapergoesorido​ @twomoonstwosuns​​ @gooddaykate​​ @livasaurasrex​​ @ham4arrow​​ @plexflexico​​​ @readsalot73​​ @hdlynn​​​ @lokiaddicted​​​ @randomness501​ @fioccodineveautunnale​​  @roxypeanut​​​ @snivellusim​​​ @lukesrighthand​​​ @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts​​​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​​​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​​ @awesomefandomsunited​​​ @ah-callie​​​ @swhiskeys​​​ @lady-tano​​​ @beskar-droids​​​ @space-floozy​​​ @cable-kenobi​​​ @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes​​​ @findhimfives​​​ @pedrosdoll​​​ @frietiemeloen​​​ @arrowswithwifi​​​ @random066​​ @uncomicalhumour​​​ @heather-lynn​​​ @domino-oh-damn​​​ @cyarikaaa​​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​​​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​​  @yabby-girl​​ @xqueenofthecraziesx​​​ @punkass-potato​​ @coredrive​​ @pascalesque​​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​​ @queenquazar​​ @sabinemorans​​ @buckstaposition​​ @holkaskrosnou​​ @yespolkadotkitty​​ @fleetwoodmactshirt​​ @seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie​ 

You drummed your fingers against the steering wheel as you watched another minute tick by on the digital clock on your dashboard. You were supposed to be home almost an hour ago, but an accident on I-95 had brought traffic to a standstill before you had a chance to get onto Route 1. 

Thank God for car phones. 

You opened the center console, keying in the home phone before tucking it between your shoulder and your ear as you focused on inching forward another two feet. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” You smiled as Javier picked up the phone. “Still stuck on the road.”

“Jesus Christ,” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth. “You got enough gas?”

“I filled up on the turnpike,” You assured him, glancing at the fuel gauge, “I’m good. Promise.” 

“Any movement?”

You glanced at a road sign as you inched past it. “I’m almost to 112. I’m gonna try to un-ass myself of this mess there.”

“Maybe another thirty?” He questioned hopefully. 

“That’s optimistic,” You chuckled, pushing your fingers through your hair as you grumbled at the car in front of you. “Yeah, sure. Just come on over jackass. Not like the rest of us are trying to get out of this shit too.”

“Ah, I see the road rage has settled in.” Javier teased. 

“I just wanna be home.” You admitted. “I thought I could do this whole work-trip thing, but… I’m not a fan.”

“I know, baby. Four days is a long time.”

“I don’t know how you did it,” You remarked. How many times had he had to go away in Colombia? You hadn’t even considered the agony of being away from Javi and Josie until you had settled into your first night alone in a hotel room in St. Pete.

“Did you have fun at least?”

“You know me, I just love public speaking to a bunch of men who think they know better than me.” You laughed bitterly, “It was fine. I actually did really well.”

“Of course you did, baby.” You could practically feel the adoration in his voice. “If it’s any consolation — we missed you. A lot.”

“I missed you too,” You chewed on your bottom lip. “I cannot wait to be home.”

“Yeah?” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth. “I made dinner. Well, I ordered dinner.”

“It’s going to be cold by the time I get home,” You sighed, rubbing at your forehead as traffic came to a complete halt again. “What’d you get?”

“Chinese. General Tso’s, fried rice, your favorite egg rolls.”

“You know how to spoil me.”

“I have a few plans to spoil you.”

“Momma!” Josie squealed from somewhere on the other side of the call and your heart clenched. 

“You wanna say hello, JoJo?” Javier questioned, “Hang on.” There was a rustle of noise as he sat the phone down, before returning a beat later. “I’ve got you on speaker phone.”

“Hey, baby doll!” You said enthusiastically, wishing you could see her on the other side of the call. “Did you miss mommy?”

“Mommy!” Josie clapped her hands. “Da-da! Mommy!” 

“She looks thrilled,” Javier told you. “She’s looked for you every day.”

“I’m sure she has.” You tried to ignore the ache in your chest. “I’ll be home soon, baby doll. And I’m going to read you a story and tuck you in. Everything I missed this week.” You shook your head slowly, “I don’t know how you did this, Javi.”

“It killed me.” Javier admitted quietly, before the phone rustled again as he let Josie go off to play once more, switching off the speaker. “Why do you think I’d come over in the middle of the night, even if it meant an hour or two of actual sleep?”

“I get it now. You were willing to do what you had to, to make up for what you missed out on.” The traffic let up a little, allowing you to drive further down the road without stopping. “I’m about five minutes from the exit, I think. I should be home before seven.”

“I’ll keep JoJo up so you can tuck her in.”

“Let her sleep if she’s tired, babe.”

“Baby, I know how important it is.”

“Yeah, I guess you do. Thank you.” You smiled to yourself. “I can’t wait to kiss you.”

Javier chuckled, “Me neither. Four days is a long time, isn’t it?”

“And lonely. I hated sleeping in a giant king hotel bed alone.” You made a face. “You two are coming with me next time.”

“I know I slept for shit without you next to me,” Javier told you. “Who knew that after three years with someone you could get real fucking used to not sleeping alone.” 

“I know!” You laughed, “Okay, I’ve reached the exit. I should be home in twenty.” You told him as you veered off 95, taking the exit that would get you home sometime this century. 

“See you in a few.” Javier murmured, “I love you.”

“Love you too. I’ll be home soon.”

Somehow you managed to hit every fucking light on the way home, but at least you made it home before seven. 

“Next time I have a conference in St. Pete — I’m flying. It was an easy six hour drive up, but Jesus Christ…” You complained as you threw your purse down on the sofa, abandoning your suitcase by the door. “Nine hours today.”

“But you’re home now,” Javier pointed out as he greeted you with a kiss, passing a very sleepy Josie to you. 

“Hello, baby girl.” You whispered as you cradled her against you, running your hand over her back as she clung to you. “I swear you’ve gotten bigger in just four days.”

“Missed you.” Josie told you, her eyes heavy as she rested her cheek against your shoulder. “No go bye-bye mommy.”

“I’m not going bye-bye anytime soon.” You promised her, kissing her forehead. You reached out with your free hand to urge Javier closer. He wrapped an arm around both of you as he hugged you. “Did daddy take good care of you?”

She nodded excitedly and Javier chuckled. “He braided-ed my hair!”

“Did he?” You grinned at Javier. “And how did he learn to do that?”

“Steve.” Javier gave your hip a squeeze. “Surprisingly good at braiding.”

“Impressive.” You laughed, giving Josie’s head another kiss. “I’m going to go put her down, do you mind heating up dinner for me?”

“Do I mind?” Javier scoffed and stole a kiss. “Of course I don’t mind, baby.”

“Thank you,” You played your fingers through his hair, before you headed down the hall to Josie’s room. 

You barely made it through the first few pages of The Swan Princess before she was out like a light beside you. You stayed there, watching her sleep for as long as your stomach would allow you.

The smell of the reheated Chinese food wafting down the hallway had your stomach in knots with hunger. If you had known how long the drive was going to be — you would’ve gotten something to eat on the turnpike. 

As much as you wanted to get back in the field, go on assignment, and travel again — you really did want to be home with Javier and Josie. You were only a little jealous that Javier had adapted to stay-at-home life so easily. He was so at ease, constantly. 

You wanted Josie to have that bond with her father — the same one you’d always craved as a little girl. But you also wanted to be there for dinnertime, bathtime, storytime, and bedtime. You didn’t want to miss a week of her life. 

“I am starving.” You told Javier as you collapsed onto the sofa beside him. You dragged your hands over your face, sighing heavily before you leaned forward and grabbed the plate he’d prepared for you. “Thank you.”

“Whatever you need, baby.” Javier angled himself towards you, watching you with rapt attention. “I missed you.”

You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze, “I missed you too.” You dipped your egg roll into the sauce, before you took a bite. You shifted towards him, leaning against his arm. “It was so weird.”

Javier curled his arm around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Aside from missing us, did you have a good time?”

“The conference went really well. I think the force up there is going to follow the model I’ve been implementing here. They don’t understand the importance of informants—“

“No one ever does.”

“Right?” You laughed, taking another bite of your egg roll. “There was a lot of evening socializing that I wasn’t really interested in.” You raised a brow as you tilted your head to look at him. 

Javier pressed a kiss to your cheek, “What? Afraid you’d have a repeat of the first night?” 

You snorted, “Yeah. I mean, I’m all for getting bought drinks, but don’t try to slip me your room key.” You made a face as you scooped up a fork full of fried rice. You chewed it down a little too fast and ended up burping and hiccuping at the same time. 

“I mean, what a catch.” Javier teased, keeping his arm curled around you. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Not bad manners, just good food.” You leaned forward to grab the beer off the coffee table, washing down the fried rice before taking a bite of the chicken. “As I was saying—“ You gave him a look. “I wasn’t looking to get hit on at the hotel bar.” 

Javier rubbed at the back of his neck, “They’d probably wonder how you ended up with me.”

“Javier,” You rolled your eyes, slapping his leg playfully. 

“Baby, you’re gorgeous.”

“You just want to get laid tonight.” You retorted hotly, running your tongue over your bottom lip as you met his gaze. 

“Four days is a long time.” Javier pointed out as he traced his fingers over your arm, his gaze flickering to your lips. 

“Were your hands not enough, Javi?” You questioned, leaning in to press your lips to his. 

“I didn’t.”

Your brows rose upwards, “Really?”

“Figured I could wait until you got home,” He drawled out, leaning in to steal another kiss, his tongue playing over your lips. 

“I guess I should eat faster then,” You laughed, winding your fingers through his hair as you brushed your nose against his. “So you can eat.”

Javier snorted.

“Though, we could always go to the main course.” You suggested, taking another bite of chicken. “My vibrator was a poor imitation of the real deal.”

“You used it?” He shook his head. 

You shrugged, “What else was I going to do at the hotel at six in the evening? Don’t be too jealous.” 

Javier ran his hand over your thigh, his fingers sliding inwards over the inner fabric of your pants. “You should’ve called.”

“I know, but I knew you’d be getting Josie ready for bed.” You sighed and pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek. “Not to mention, I was pretty stressed and it was not as alleviating as I hoped.”

He pressed a kiss to the curve of your jaw, “Still stressed?”

“Two more bites of dinner and I’m yours.” You promised him, shoving half the egg roll into your mouth as you hastily chewed it down. “They’re not terrible nuked.”

“They were good when they were fresh.”

You nudged him in the ribs, “I’m sorry, take that up with the traffic gods. I would’ve loved to be home hours ago.” You licked the sauce off your thumb, before leaning forward to put your plate back on the coffee table. 

“I’ll light a candle,” He taunted, his eyes raking over your face before he hesitated, “You should finish eating.”

“Are you sure?” You frowned, “I ate half a bag of pretzel sticks on the drive.” You took a swig of beer, before sitting it next to your plate. “You know I’m not against midnight breakfast.”

Javier shook his head, his lips drawing up at the corner a warm smile. “Take your time, enjoy your dinner.”

“Javi?”

He arched a brow, “Hmm?”

“I’ve been in a car for nine hours.” You said slowly as you moved to straddle his lap, resting your hands on his shoulders. “And thinking about coming home to you was the one thing that kept me from partaking in road rage.”

He ran his hands over your hips, one hand sliding around to grab your ass as he looked up at you. “Who knew I had so much power.” Javier smirked, leaning up to kiss you.

You dragged your fingers through his hair as you sank into the kiss, your tongue playing over his bottom lip with a soft groan. You pulled back with a grin, “You have a lot of power.” 

“Couch or bed?”

��Bed.” You whispered as you brushed your nose against his, “I want out of these pants.” You rolled your hips downwards slowly, before you climbed off of his lap. 

“I love the way you think.” Javier chuckled as he followed you down the hallway. 

You walked backwards into the bedroom, meeting his eyes with a smirk of your own, “I’ve been known to have a few good ideas.” 

Javier closed the distance between the two of you, a hand at your hip and the other at your jaw as he descended upon you. It felt like a week’s worth of desire pent up into that one kiss and it lit a flame of need within you.

He guided you back onto the bed and you held him wrestle your pants off your legs, leaning up on your elbows as he tossed them aside. “Still want the main course baby?” 

You nodded your head, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your underwear and sliding them down your thighs. Javier caught ahold of them and tugged them off. 

Javier bent down and pressed a kiss to your lower belly as his hand ran up along the inside of your thigh. “I’ve missed you so fucking much, baby.”

“Then show me.” You taunted as you tugged at his hair. Javier dragged his hand up higher until his fingers reached your cunt, his fingers dragging over your folds. 

You sank back against the bed, savoring the feel of his fingers as he played over your sensitive flesh, stoking the flames of arousal there. 

Javier pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your lower stomach, before scraping his teeth over your soft skin there. He worked two fingers into you, thrusting them in and out of you twice before he pulled back. 

He leaned over you to catch lips again and you managed to reach downward between the two of you to work his jeans open. Javier groaned against your lips as you worked your hand inside, palming his rigid cock through his boxers. 

“Happy to see me?” You murmured against his lips as he drew back just enough to catch a breath. 

“Very.” Javier bumped his noses against yours, before he kissed you again. 

You tugged his boxers down his hips, getting them down about mid-thigh to where his jeans were before you gave up. You were both half dressed — it didn’t matter. 

Javier’s hand curled around your hip as he dragged you to the edge of the bed. You curled a leg around him, trying to angle yourself towards him. 

“Fuck!” You gasped out as his cock slid into you, filling you so deliciously. “That’s it, Javi.” You urged, curling your fingers around the back of his neck as you met his eyes.

“You feel so fucking good.” Javier drawled out as he leaned back, his hands gripping at your hips tightly as he started thrusting into you in earnest. 

You grabbed curled your hands around his forearms, gripping at them tightly as you rolled your hips to meet his thrusts. Your lips parted as a breathy moan escaped you. “Javier.” 

“Is that what you want, baby?” He questioned, dragging his hand along the length of the leg you had wrapped around his hips. “Shit—“ Javier hissed out, his grip tightening at your hip as his pace faltered. You knew that face. 

“It’s okay.” You promised him, grabbing at his shoulder as you pulled yourself up. You tilted your head, lips brushing against his as you rolled your hips. “Let go.” You whispered against his mouth as you curled your fingers around the back of his neck. 

“Fucking… baby, I’m—“

You cut him off with a searing kiss before he had the chance to finish. He released his hold on your leg, slipping his hand between you where his cock was driving into you, but you intercepted him. You interlaced your fingers with his and that was all it took to send him careening over the edge.

Your own release was just out of reach, but there was something almost equally pleasurable about watching Javier come undone for you. To feel his cock throb as it spilled within you. 

“It’s okay,” You whispered, winding your fingers through his hair as you laid back and took him with you. You were both hanging halfway off the bed, but you really didn’t mind. 

“Is it?” He grumbled, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Don’t be.” You ran your hand down his back. “I still had fun.” You turned your head as much as you could to press a kiss to whatever available bare patch of skin you could find.

Javier groaned quietly as he pushed himself up on his hands, towering over you. “Let me make it up to you.”

You shook your head, tracing a finger over his bottom lip. “You can make it up to me by getting undressed so we can go to sleep. Okay?”

“You sure?” He questioned, lifting a hand to cup your cheek. Javier searched your eyes as you nodded, “I’m gonna grab something to clean up with. Don’t move.”

You drew in a sharp breath as he slipped out of you. The moment had definitely passed, as disappointing as it was. You were stressed and exhausted. 

You sat up and peeled off your shirt, tossing it off the side of the bed as you waited for Javier to return from the bathroom. “I need to brush my teeth too,” You told him as he knelt down at the foot of the bed as he wiped off the mess that had been left behind. 

Javier pressed a kiss to your leg just on the inside of our knee, “Didn't mean you make your homecoming a letdown.”

“Good thing you didn’t let me down then.” You told him with a warm smile as you held him stand back up as you rose. “You’re more than welcome to wake me up however you see fit… but not before seven.”

“I can arrange that,” Javier’s lips cracked into a faint smile. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too.” You brushed your fingers over his cheek. “I missed my bed… and it’s other occupant.”

Javier snorted, “Even if he’s early to the party?”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you headed for the bathroom to brush your teeth, “I only care that you were at the party.” You quipped, firing a finger gun at him before you ducked into the bathroom.  

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

[storiesforallfandoms]

stuck together ~ scotty sire

word count: 1777

request?: no

description: when a worldwide lockdown leaves you stuck in a house with your brother’s friends, you are forced to admit your feelings to his best friend

pairing: scotty sire x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

i know scotty isn’t in isolation with todd and the boys but for the sake of this imagine he is

It was only meant to be a short visit. With everything going on, you decided to visit your big brother for a week before things got so bad that you wouldn’t be able to. However, just before you were supposed to go home, everything shut down and everyone was sent into isolation. Thus, you were stuck at your brother’s place with him, his roommates, Zane and Matt, and his best friend, Scotty.

Staying with Todd, Matt, and Zane alone would have been fine. You got along very well with your brother’s roommates and, although you two constantly teased each other, you didn't mind getting to spend so much time with him. The only problem was Scotty.

For as long as you had known Scotty, the two of you had a love-hate relationship. You constantly annoyed one another and some days neither of you could even stand to be in the same room. So being stuck in a house with him with nowhere to go definitely was not going great, for either of you or for the others in the house.

You were in the shower, rinsing off the last of the shaving cream from your legs, when you heard yet another loud knocking come to the bathroom door.

“I’m almost finished!” you called as you reached to turn off the water.

“You said that like 10 minutes ago!” came Scotty’s voice.

You rolled your eyes and stepped out of the shower. You dried yourself off and wrapped one towel around your hair and another around your body. When you opened the bathroom door, you found Scotty standing there in just a pair of sweatpants with a towel thrown over his shoulder.

“If you kept hassling me I would’ve stayed longer,” you told him,

“You can’t stay in the shower forever. I’d get in eventually,” Scotty retorted.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, Sire?”

Scotty merely looked at you for some time before pushing past you into the bathroom. You rolled your eyes and went to get dressed. You were towel drying your hair when you heard a yelp that was obviously Scotty’s coming from the bathroom. You smirked to yourself as you got dressed and made your way to the kitchen.

“Did you use all the hot water again?” Todd asked as you poured yourself a glass of OJ.

“Not on purpose!” you responded. “I didn’t know I was in there that long!”

The sound of footsteps came down the hall and Scotty stood there with a towel wrapped around his waist and still dripping water.

“You used up all the hot water!” he exclaimed.

“I didn’t mean to!” you snapped back. “The water was still hot when I got out, I’m sorry.”

“Man, no wonder you’re not in a relationship. Any guy you date would never be able to shower because you’d use all the hot water on them.”

Your face fell at his words. Your relationship status was a touchy subject, everyone knew that, even Scotty. To bring it up was really a low blow for him.

You fought back tears as you brushed past Scotty, speed walking straight to your room to get away from the situation as quickly as you could. Behind you, you heard Todd mutter, “Dude, not cool.”

~~~~~~

Later that night, after everyone else had gone to bed, you snuck from your room to the kitchen to grab a snack. You ended up spending the whole day in your room. Todd tried to coax you into coming out a few times, but you refused to face Scotty. You just wanted to be alone.

You grabbed the tub of chocolate ice cream that was stored away in the back of the freezer and a spoon. The ice cream was almost gone anyways, so you didn’t feel too bad about eating it straight from the tub.

You sat up on the island, shovelling spoonfuls of ice cream into your mouth, when you heard someone coming from their room. You didn’t think much of it until someone spoke.

“Oh, hey.”

You turned to see Scotty stood there in a pair of pajama pants and a tank top. You rolled your eyes and looked back down to your ice cream, taking another spoonful in your mouth to prohibit you from saying anything.

“Listen,” he continued, “what I said earlier, that was so wrong of me. I’m so sorry, I hope you know I didn’t mean it.”

You didn’t respond. You focused your full attention on the ice cream, trying to keep the tears at bay as the memory of Scotty’s earlier words came back to your mind.

He walked over to the cutlery drawer and pulled out a spoon. He tried to scoop some ice cream out for himself, but you quickly jerked away and held the tub to yourself, protectively.

“No ice cream for assholes,” you muttered as you turned away from him completely.

“Come on, (Y/N), I said I was sorry,” he sighed.

“Sorry means jack shit!” you hissed. “Scott, you know how much talking about my relationship status hurts me, but to make a joke saying why I’m not good enough to be in a relationship? I know you don’t like me, but Jesus, dude, that was too much!”

“But why is whether or not you’re in a relationship such a big deal to you?” he asked as he sat himself next to you on the island. “And I don’t...not like you. I think you’re a pretty awesome person. I just figured you hated me, so I always relayed those jokes and jabs. I definitely took it too far today, that’s on me.”

You sighed as you watched some melted ice cream fall from your spoon back into the tub. “I don’t hate you.”

“Then why do you act like you do?”

“The answer to that and to your earlier question are very similar answers.”

“And those would be?”

When you looked up at him, he was looking back at you expectantly. You could choose to play off the whole thing and give him some bullshit answer, refuse to answer all together, or you could finally tell Scotty the truth. It would feel like a weight off of your shoulders if you did, but it could also make things much more awkward than they already were. It wasn’t like you could tell him and then leave to go home. You were still going to be stuck with him in isolation for at least another few months.

But you had let this much slip, what was the point of going back? Might as well come clean.

“It’s because...I’ve always had a crush on you.”

You looked back to the ice cream tub as you said it, trying to play off the words as if they were nothing. Scotty’s stillness, however, told you that he definitely was not going to let this go.

“What?” he questioned. “Really?” You nodded. “Why did you never tell me?”

“Because you were with Kristen, and you were so happy with her. Honestly, all of us thought you two were going to end up getting married and living happily ever after. I figured...well I thought it would just be easier to act like I hated you and push you away than to allow myself to continue being heartbroken.”

Scotty sat back with his arms behind him, taking in the information. You looked off in front of you, absentmindedly continuing to eat as Scotty let what you had said to set in. You figured whatever he was about to say next would be the determining factor on how these next few months were going to go.

“Why didn’t you tell me after Kristen and I broke up?” he asked, the question sort of taking you by shock.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I had figured the charade was so far gone that there was no use in admitting the truth. That it’d probably be easier just to pretend I hated you for the rest of my life instead of admitting the truth and being rejected.”

“Why do you think I’d reject you?”

You turned to face Scotty, glaring at him. “That’s not funny.”

“What?”

“Don’t say shit like that, not after I’m admitting a secret I’ve been keeping for so long to you. You’re already making me regret it.”

“I’m not trying to make you regret it, I’m just asking a very valid question. Why do you think I’d reject you if I was single?”

“Because...I don’t know. I’m just your best friend’s baby sister, I didn’t think I was exactly a dating candidate.”

“Well, you are my best friend’s little sister, that’s a fact. But just because you are doesn’t mean you’re officially crossed off the list for potential dating candidates. Not to me anyways.”

I looked at him long and hard, trying to see if he was joking or not. “What are you getting at, Sire?”

Scotty threw his head back and let out a long groan. “What I’m trying to get at, Smith, is that I like you, too. And I have ever since I broke up with Kristen, maybe even before. Part of the reason we broke up was because I didn’t really love her like I once did, and upon being apart from her and thinking it all over, I realized that maybe the reason why I didn’t love her like I once had anymore was because I liked someone else. Someone being...you.”

You looked at Scotty for a long time, trying to let the information sink in, but for some reason it just wasn’t sticking. Part of you just didn’t believe that Scotty could possibly like you. Although, part of you still just couldn’t believe that he was finally single at the same time that you were, so it was actually possible to try and be together.

“I know it's not exactly the greatest time to start dating,” Scotty said. “But when everything opens again I’d like to take you on an actual date, if you’d let me.”

You couldn’t help but smile as your heart began to beat a million miles a second. Unable to really say anything, you just nodded quickly, causing Scotty to smile as well. Suddenly, he sat up and dug his spoon into the ice cream, managing to get even a little bit before you yanked the tub away from him again.

“No! Just because I said I’d date you doesn't mean you get my ice cream!” you laughed as he tried to reach around you to get more.

“Oh, I will get that ice cream, just you wait!”

#scotty sire #scotty sire imagine #scotty sire x reader #the vlog squad #vlog #vlog squad #vlog squad imagine #imagine #one shot

[bennyboyjones]

THE GETAWAY (Ben Hardy FanFic) Prologue

A/N: Hi! So, here is the prologue to my Ben Hardy  AU Fanfic! There are currently several chapters written, which you can find on Wattpad if you click on the link below, but I’ve decided to also upload it here as well. It might be a bit behind, but you’ll still get all the chaps eventually. 

What it is: basically, a girl from a small town who is bored of her life decides to take a trip to Nice where she runs into ben, who is also running away from some shit and some romance ensues. 

Word count: 1.6k

In this chapter: just some background to get us started. You probably don’t have to read this to understand what comes after, but it will help you understand the main character better. 

WATTPAD LINK IF YOU WANT TO READ AHEAD

Here we go:

prologue

I brushed my thumb over the twenty year old bonds clutched between my fingers. My eyes swept over the bank tellers, my weight switching back and forth from my right to my left foot. These people were taking forever; I figured it would be slow since it was a Monday morning, but apparently this was when all of the housewives did their banking. I had been next in line for the past fifteen minutes and as time went on, my nerve was steadily draining out of me. 

Last night, after a bottle of wine, I sat on the floor of my bedroom and reached under my bed for the manilla folder that held the contents of what I would consider the best six months of my life.  The folder was worn, soft, had both coffee and wine stains, and looked way too aged for something that had only come into existence a year ago. I placed my glass next to me, on the equally stained gray carpet, and pulled out endless postcards, bookmarks, pamphlets, plane tickets, museum and park and exhibit passes, and polaroids. I sifted through them, running fingers over my best friends’ smiling faces, rereading postcards to my family I had already memorized, focusing on guides to museums in Copenhagen, Paris, and London as if studying them could magically teleport me back. Instead, I was stuck here, in Rye, a small town that I was so, so bored of. 

I had lived here my entire life, and so had my parents. We went to the same elementary school and high school, we lived a thirty-second drive and a five minute walk from where my dad grew up. Everyone I had gone to school with had parents who graduated with or around the same time as mine. I felt so suffocated by sameness, by the ordinariness, and was terrified of repeating the pattern of monotony. 

When it was time to go to college, I was sure I would end up in New York City—somewhere not too far, but far enough, different enough from everything I wanted to get away from. When I was in high school, I decided that I was made to live there. For nine months out of the year, I’m a New Yorker—but during the summer I’m always back in Rye because apparently it’s financially irresponsible to take out loans to dorm over the summer and I can’t afford an apartment on a waitress’s salary, nor do I have the time to take up a second job and go to school full time, so Rye it is.

I only ever missed New York seasonally, but I missed London all the time. 

I missed living in London. I missed walking the three blocks from Queen Mary to the Co-Op to grab mushrooms, flapjacks, and a bottle of wine. I missed sitting on the Central Line at 11:30pm drunk, with Sarah and Annie on our way to our favorite club near Tottenham Court Road. I missed walking to Rinkoff’s hungover and grabbing a cronut. I missed Brick Lane on Sunday mornings. I missed a past life. 

For the past year, I’ve been saving up to get it back. When I came home last June, I worked a waitressing job at a small restaurant on our main street, as many doubles as I could—six days a week—and I refused to spend a single dime of it. I worked part time the past two semesters and saved as much as I could, but metro cards were expensive and a girl needed to eat, and also have a social life, and instead of “throwing away” my left over aid money on spring break vacations like my friends did, I hoarded that $1,231 and pretended I wasn’t bothered by the Miami Beach pictures even though I knew I was missing out. 

London was expensive, that much was clear; the only way I survived six months on $6,000 was because my financial aid paid for my housing and tuition, traveling around Europe while living in Europe is cheap, and my mom was sending me $100 a week for groceries because she was worried that all the jokes I made about not eating so I could afford to party (or financial drinking, as it’s been called) were serious (they were, and often the money that was supposed to be meant for groceries went to more fucking around—you only go abroad like that once in your entire life and I was so not going to waste it). And still, despite the weekly allowance from my mom, I still came home with $82 left in my bank account. Towards the end of the six months I was barely hanging on financially. Basically, what I’m saying is that I knew going back was going to cost me a lot of money, especially since I knew I wouldn’t have the same kind of help that I had the last time around. 

So, I saved and refused to do the math to figure out how much I would need to go back to London for at least two weeks. Well, last night, I did the math—and, oh boy, I am not going back to London until I have at least a few thousand more dollars to my name. That crushing disappointment is what led me to that manilla folder. 

The past few months, going back to Europe was all I could think about; I was graduating in December and this was my last summer to really do whatever I wanted before I had to be a real adult. Granted, I was planning on going straight into grad school, but the statement still stands. 

I took another sip of the cheap-ass red I regretted buying before grabbing my photos from Nice. I slowly went through them, and my eyes misted at the landscapes, the crooked self portraits taken on both disposables and my barely functioning digital, the photos of food, and coffees perfectly placed next to pages of my open journal. 

It was the one place that I had gone alone, in the middle of January, for only three days. It was a trip I took out of convenience (student visa issues) and I had only chosen Nice because it was both relatively cheap and small, but it ended up being my favorite place. The place I named first when people asked where I went, the place I talked about the most, and the place that meant the most to me. 

I put the photos down and opened my laptop. I opened a tab for SkyScanner, one for AirBnb, and one for TripAdvisor and started doing the math.

Flight: $1,214 (round trip)

AirBnb: $2,056

Other Expenses: $3,000

Approx. Total: $6,270

I knew how much I had in my savings and knew I had bonds somewhere from my baptism or some other religious sacrament I was forced to endure that I could cash for some extra money. I had enough for three weeks, but didn’t have much of a financial cushion should I need it. 

I downed what was left in my glass and booked my trip. I felt my hands shaking as I took them off my keyboard to rest them on my cheeks. My face was flush from both the wine and the excitement. I wiped my feet against the carpet, the nervous sweat on their bottoms making me uncomfortable. I was never one for impulsivity; I was a planner, a control freak, a perfectionist—a full blown virgo for fuck’s sake and the longer I sat there, staring at the confirmation page before me, the more nauseous I felt. I refused to let the regret set in, the doubt, and the fear. Instead, I stood up, hopped down the stairs with my empty glass in hand, and upon refilling, announced to my mom that in three weeks time, I would be on a plane to France. 

Earlier this morning, she rifled through the safe in the back of her closet in search of the bonds. When I told her about what I had done, she didn’t have much of a reply—she simply raised her glass to me and muttered a soft, “Jesus Christ”. I knew she was slightly concerned, but also excited for me and I really couldn’t have asked for a better reaction. She was a supportive mom, always, no matter how questionable her children’s choices were (and mine and my brothers’ choices were always questionable). 

Once she found them shoved into an envelope from the ‘90s, I got in the car with my younger brother and went to the bank. 

“You need to chill out. You’re going to make everyone in there nervous if you go in there all shaky and sweaty. You’re making yourself look like a criminal,” Noah said as he put his crappy car in park. 

“I’m just nervous. I know this is a stupid idea, isn’t it? I should just keep saving and go back in, like, another year when I really have the money, don’t you think?”

He rolled his eyes, “No. I think you need to do this now. It’s all you ever fucking talk about, and honestly, visiting you last year was the best thing I’ve ever done and it was the happiest I saw you. Just stop being a dumb bitch and go in there and get your money.”

Ignoring the “bitch” comment, I pushed the car door open with a loud creaking and clutched the bonds so tight they folded in my hands. 

When it was finally (finally!) my turn to be helped, I stepped up and handed the bonds over, crumpled and slightly damp with sweat, “I’d like to cash these, please.”

#ben hardy #ben jones #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fic #ben hardy blurb #6 underground #four 6 underground #joe mazello imagine #gwilyn lee #borhap #borhap cast #borhap imagine #borhap fanfic #borhap fic #eastenders #ben jones blurb #ben jones fic

[ashes-and-ashes]

Birthday Part 1

A bit of backstory to this fic:

So tomorrow (July 15th) happens to be the amazing Aly’s birthday! Seeing as she is one of the most incredible people ever, I decided that I was going to write her a birthday fic.

Of course I had intended for it to be pure fluff, but my evil brain doesn’t work like that. After an hour, I seemed to have 2808 words of angst, with very little fluff. And (despite Aly being the Princess of Angst) I was not sure if she wanted such depression on her birthday.

So, I split the story up! Here is the first bit of angst, and I’ll post the fluffy bit tomorrow. The fluffy bit is purely dedicated to Aly, and I’ll write an incredibly long and gushy post about her tomorrow. However, here’s the first angst and depressing bit - hope it’s okay!

@withrewings

~

Sirius was going to explode.

It was March 4th, a mere 6 days before Remus’ birthday and Sirius still hadn’t managed to produce anything suitable for his present. He had started drawing in January, convinced that three months was enough for him to create something good enough to give to Remus, but the days had rolled by and suddenly Sirius was left with a sketchbook of half-finished drawings and a looming sense of dread.

He winced, bending back over the page, ignoring the shiny charcoal film covering the side of his hand. His fingers ached from grabbing onto the stub, his back sore from being hunched over the paper for hours, but Sirius didn’t really care. He bit his lip idly, tracing the curls of Remus’ hair, the tilt of his chin, the hollows carved into his back and arms -

“Goddamn it!” With a snarl, Sirius stood, interrupting Marlene’s rant about the Slytherin Girls. He hurled the sketchbook to the ground; the back cover bent with a slight crunch as it hit the floor, the pages flipping open to reveal the sketch he had just been working on. “God-fucking-damn it!”

The others barely looked his way - Sirius’ outbursts were common enough now that everyone had gotten used to the swearing and yelling. It was late at night - they were the only ones in the common room. James bent down, scooping up the book with one hand, eyes still fixed on Marlene. “Go on Marls. What did you say to her?”

“More like what did you do to her,” Dorcas muttered. “No way that girl made it out in one piece.”

Marlene flashed a quicksilver grin. “I hexed her nose off. Completely. Transfigured it into the tiniest mushroom attached to her ugly face. God, they were so mad.”

James let out a laugh, throwing his head back; in the background Sirius noticed one of the twins (Either Fabian or Gideon - the light from the fireplace was dim, and he couldn’t quite pick out the details on their faces) hand a galleon to Benjy, who was sitting on the mantle. “Priceless.”

Peter leaned forward, eyes wide. “How long do you have detention for?”

Marlene shrugged. “Detention will last 3 months. But the tales will last forever. I’ll be a goddamn Hogwarts legend.”

“You’re already one,” Lily assured her. She tapped James on the shoulder. “Prongs. Want to give Sirius his book back?”

With a smirk, James held the book out to Sirius, the covers still open to reveal the half-finished drawing. “Oh right. I forgot.”

Sirius snatched the sketchbook back, flipping him off. “Oh, shut up.”

They were all meant to be discussing Remus’ party (Remus having gone to bed ages ago) but the hours had ticked away and they had planned absolutely nothing. Sirius wasn’t surprised - nothing ever seemed to work when everyone got together, except for a whole heap of snogging between Marlene and Dorcas, and James and Lily.

He scowled down at the sketch in his lap, the half-finished outline of Remus, silhouetted against a huge moon, the curve of his spine mirroring the constellations twinkling above him. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, the words bitter in his mouth. “I’m so screwed.”

Lily looked surprised. “Why? That one is beautiful, Sirius. He’d love that.”

Sirius shook his head, violently flipping to another page. “No! This one is...is…”

Dorcas raised an eyebrow. She was sprawled in a huge chair, legs dangling over the side; Marlene gave her bare legs a long look before winking at Sirius. “I think this one is pretty.”

“God.” Sirius groaned, slamming the book shut. “It’s romantic. It looks like we’re dating or something.”

Benjy snorted, swinging his feet from where he was perched on the mantle. “Aren’t you already?”

Sirius flipped him off; he could feel blood rising to his cheeks. “I’m pretty sure Remus is straight, Benj.”

“Only one way to find out,” Kingsley muttered; the room erupted in laughter.

“I say,” mused Marlene, “That you should draw him in an intimate position.”

“Maybe with a collar,” Fabian called, “And chains, black leather and fishnets - “

Dorcas laughed. “A gag!”

“You should draw me in that!” Benjy yelled over the laughter. “I’d love to be drawn in collars and chains and black leather fishnet stockings.”

“Oh shut up,” Sirius said. He scowled, staring down at his hands; there was a scar shaking across his index finger where his mother had broken it once. “You guys are absolutely useless.”

“Says the guy without a present,” Lily muttered. Sirius stuck his tongue out at her.

Gideon rolled his eyes. “Look,” he began, “Remus is...Remus. He’d love anything you drew him. Stop over complicating it.”

Sirius spread his arms out wide. “Over complicating is what I do, darling.”

Benjy snorted. “I’d prefer that you do Remus.”

He was definitely blushing now, Sirius could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, spreading over the back of his neck like a flood. He scowled again, running a hand through his hair; it was already wild and tangled, paint and God knew what else caught in the dark locks. “You know what?” he said, then paused. “I was going to say ‘Screw you all’ but I reconsidered because I knew you would turn it into something about screwing Remus. So go eat a bowtruckle.”

He could hear Benny’s voice carry, even as he turned the corner and started up the stairs. “Why don’t you eat Remus?”

Sirius scowled. “Fuck off Benjy!”

~

Sirius glares down at the paper.

He knew he wasn’t going to give this one to Remus anyways. It wasn’t even the drawing that screwed it up - the paper was crinkled from where he had grasped it, the lines smudged and faded, too intense and too bold. It turned everything into hard lines, points instead of curves, edges instead of sweeps. He knew he was wasting time, drawing something that he would never, could never show Remus but it lessened the tightness in his chest, made it easier to breathe.

He had 2 sketchbooks. The first one had a red cover, and he used it for all his doodles. Pages of simple things: wand tips and goblets, candles and flowers, spellbooks and cauldrons and hundreds of unicorns. He brought that one everywhere, kept it in his school bag, was always doodling in it until the book was finished.

The second book was black, the cover heavy and Sirius always kept this one under his bed, because who wouldn’t know? This book contained everything - a boy on his knees, broken fingers, a single burning piano key. Scars, hundreds of them, rendered in perfect detail, all torn flesh and blood and bones, the lashes seared into his brain. He drew fingers with scar marks and backs with claw marks and even the broken, bleeding figure of an angel with its wings sawed off.

And Remus. This book was filled with Remus as well, all the shattered, beautiful parts of him, all the scars and cuts and marks. He drew Remus crying, and Remus screaming and sometimes he drew Remus kissing him.

He stared down at the drawing now, splayed on the page in front of him. He had hesitated when he drew him and Remus, but once he started he couldn’t stop. The charcoal spilled out of him, bleeding onto the paper, and everything was the same. Two boys kissing, the desperation clear in the clenching of their fingers or the arch of their spine, mused curls and closed eyes and scars like brushstrokes on their skin and Sirius couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried.

He wondered, sometimes, what Remus would say if he saw him, if he peeked into that black sketchbook, saw every dark crack in Sirius’ heart laid bare. Everyone had their secrets, he supposed. His were just more open than most.

There was a rustling sound from behind him; Sirius quickly flipped the page. It was late at night, the room filled with the sounds of people breathing, dreams spiraling into the air. The nightmare had woken Sirius up, the fractured visions of his parents and Death Eaters, and he had spent the rest of the night drawing, filling up even more pages in the sketchbook. He glanced down and started; the lines he had made were so dark that the colour had bled through the page, leaving smudges and streaks and the delicate tracery of lines carved into the page in front of him. He hastily closed the sketchbook, pulling the red one onto his lap, opening it to a random part in the book. Damn. This one was of Remus too, a idle study of him sleeping, his curls framing his face with gold.

He was about to turn the page again when the curtains on his bed flew open. It was as if his drawing had come to life; Remus stood there, golden curls forming a messy halo around his face, his eyes half lidded from exhaustion. He yawned, running his hands through his hair. “You okay?”

Sirius shrugged. “Sure.”

Remus frowned. “You’re always so closed off. It’s like you’re hiding something. Keeping something locked away.”

Yeah, my love for you, Sirius thought, but he didn’t say anything. He shifted, pulling the covers up around him, focusing on his breathing. Remus shot hi a concerned look.“Nightmares?”

“Yeah.” Sirius’ hands tightened around the blankets. “I’ve been up for awhile.”

Remus regarded him thoughtfully, then pulled the curtains wider. He slid into bed next to Sirius, gently rearranging the blankets until his warm legs tangled with Sirius’ cold ones. “It’s like lying in bed next to an ice sculpture.”

Sirius forced a laugh. Remus was too close right now; he was certain that he could feel his heart pounding. “It’s like lying in bed next to a furnace.”

Remus laughed, the sound warm and rich. God, Sirius could drown in that sound. He shifted over, giving Remus some more room, twisting until his head was tucked under Remus’ shoulder. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, the air smelling of wool and pine and clean cotton -

“Shit,” Remus said. “Is that me?”

With a jolt, Sirius opened his eyes; the book on his lap had fallen, the pages splayed open to reveal the sketch of Remus sleeping. He swallowed, hard, fighting to keep his voice steady. “No. It’s the fucking Duke of Alytown.”

Remus punched his shoulder. “Shut up.” With a shaking hand he reached over, picking the book up carefully, tilting it so the light fell on the pages and illuminated the drawing. “Did you...did you draw this?”

Sirius resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His heart was hammering triple-time in his chest, like a huge drum - he was certain Remus could hear it. “Nope. I just fall asleep with drawings of you on my lap all the time. I actually commissioned Snape to draw this, you see - he would creep into our room at night and - “

“Jesus.” Remus’ mouth hung open, his eyes wide as he turned the drawing back and forth. This close Sirius could see his eyelashes, golden against his skin, so fine that it looked as if they were spun from spider silk. “God. This is beautiful, Sirius.”

“You’re beautiful,” Sirius said, then quickly snapped his mouth shut. Smooth, Sirius. Real smooth you fucktard.

Remus laughed, more in shock then anything. “Me? I’m not...I’m not…”

“Beautiful?”

Remus looked down at his hand. “Yeah.” He pauses, clearly struggling with something; his mouth twisted into a bitter smirk before he continued. “Just look at me. I’m...I’m ruined. I’m scarred all over.”

Sirius bit his lip, hard. In his mind he saw his back, the lashes standing out like lines of silver, raised and thick and livid. He swallowed, hard. “Sometimes the cracks are the most interesting part of a sculpture.”

The barest edge of a smile ghosted over Remus’ face. “But it’s still ruined all the same.”

If only you could see, Sirius thought, If only you could see how beautiful you are, how perfect you’ve become. If only I could draw you the way I see you.

He coughed; with a steady hand he tore the sketch out of his book, handing it to Remus. “Keep it,” he said, then shook his head at the shocked expression on Remus’ face. “It’s yours now. I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but I’ll just whip up another drawing.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, and a beautiful, dazzling smile raced across Remus’s face, making it look like the sun had coated him in strands of liquid gold. Beautiful, Sirius thought, and his heart gave a painful twist in his chest.

“Thanks Sirius. But I don’t…I don’t need this, you know. All I want is...is you, I guess. Your heart. I want your heart, Sirius. That’s all.”

Sirius looked down. “Anything for you, Re.”

~

He couldn’t stop himself from drawing Remus.

The black sketchbook was open on his lap again, a fresh page blank and empty. His hands were dark, coated in the shiny-grey of graphite, his clothes covered in the stuff. He had been drawing for ages without taking a break, his eyes dropping from exhaustion and yet he allowed the sketch to bleed out of him, splattering across the page.

He was almost done the black sketchbook, had only a few pages left. Usually a book would last him 6 months, but he had filled half the book in less then 3 weeks. It was like he was an addict, thirsting for something he could never have, lightning and thunder and rain echoing through his veins. He couldn’t stop himself now, even as he continued filling the pages, Remus staring up at him from every angle.

Sirius took a shaking breath. It felt like he was underwater, drowning in his feelings for Remus, threatening to blow him apart with every gasping inhale of air. He set the pencil to the paper, letting his mind take over, the curve of Remus’ eyes gradually starting to fill the page.

He remembered the first time he had seen Remus, 5 years ago, standing in the compartment of a train as the sun went down over the hills. He was with James, wild and rebellious because for the first time ever he was free, when the door had opened and Remus had stepped into the compartment.

There was something different about him, even back then, some ethereal way that Remus moved. He remembered how the light had hit Remus’ face in just the right way, casting his features into shadow, making him look like some beautiful bronze statue and all Sirius could do was stare.

There was always some part of him that had loved Remus, but it really hit him in 4th year. He had been playing Quidditch, backlog against the setting sun, and he had looked down and seen Remus in the stands and his heart swelled up and he couldn’t breathe. He knew it then, while hurtling through the sky on his broom, knew he would have given up anything to make Remus happy.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by a sharp crack; he had pressed down so hard on the pencil that it had shattered, pieces skidding all over his sheet. Sirius scowled, glaring down at the page - there was a boy on a broom and a boy on the ground, the light hitting them until it looked like a spotlight, wind whipping their hair around them. He swore, staring down at his hands - it was so obvious. All it would take was for someone to look at his book to know what he felt towards Remus. He couldn’t burden Remus with that, the unrequited feelings of a shattered boy. Remus had already been through far too much - Sirius couldn’t heap another load onto his shoulders.

But what if he did? The thought rose up unbidden. What if he did like you?

His mind flickered back, sorting through the memories of the year - the Train, Remus’ hands tight around his neck. The Christmas Feast, sitting together under the cold half moon. January, grasping onto Remus’ fingers, the desperation in his eyes as he began to change. Valentine’s Day, a single chocolate, a whispered conversation. Sirius, I…

“I what?” Sirius had said.

Remus shook his head. “Never mind.”

So many moments, so many hidden touches, and Sirius’ heart was pounding because what if? What if there was a chance?

He was gripping the sketchbook tightly, so hard that the cover was digging into his palms, scoring lines across his palm. Remus had told him what he wanted that night, didn’t he? I want your heart, Sirius. That’s all.

“My heart,” Sirius said, out loud to the wind. Slowly, his hands tightened around the sketchbook.

He knew exactly what to give to Remus tomorrow.

#musings #amazing friends #amazing people #wolfstar #wolfstar angst #wolfstar fanfic #wolfstar fanfiction #sirius black #sirius black angst #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #remus lupin #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #sirius x remus #sirius black x remus lupin #harry potter #james potter #lily evans #peter pettigrew #gideon prewett #fabian prewett #dorcas x marlene #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #benjy fenwick #marauders #marauders era #kingsley shacklebolt

[thestarkerisobvious]

Enthusiasm - Chapter 1 Completed

It hurt, a little, when he thought Tony was taking him to bed out of pity.

Although, at this point, Peter Parker was honestly desperate enough to take anything he could get.

These were his troublesome thoughts as his reluctant mentor finally conceded, and led him into the bedroom.

Not that Tony 

didn’t start acting enthusiastic, once they got there.  It was just that Peter was suddenly filled with the fear that this was acting. Tony was giving him his best bedroom eyes (but how hard was that?  Tony had bedroom eyes under most circumstances) and whispering gentle, sweet nothings into his ear (but Tony was a very experienced man, couldn’t he say things like that without even trying?)  And now Tony was kissing him tenderly, holding Peter’s face in his hands like he was made of fine china – and Tony had probably done this with dozens of other people – maybe hundreds.  Tony could probably do this in his sleep.

But then….oh then…..then Peter wrapped his arms around Tony’s  neck and Tony’s hands found their way onto Peter’s ass and suddenly Peter had no fears at all.

Because Tony was moaning into Peter’s mouth squeezing handfuls of ass helplessly (which had the effect of crushing Peter’s groin against his but Peter wasn’t even sure if Tony noticed) and suddenly Peter’s brain lit up with one thought:

This is what Tony dreamed of doing when he thought about me.

All evidence pointed toward Peter’s theory.  All manners aside, Tony was pealing off Peter’s shirt and pushing him down to the bed.  He might have said something like “Can I take these off?” but it was hard to understand (And Peter was too busy yanking his pants off to pay attention.) From there he was in Tony’s arms again, Tony’s mouth on his neck, Tony’s hands on his ass, and a huge shit-eating grin on his face.

“Turn over,” the older man growled and Peter willingly complied (it gave him a chance to hide this huge grin in the bedcovers where he planted his face.)  He moaned helplessly as Tony straddled him and began an enthusiastic massage of both asscheeks, one at a time.  Sometimes he glanced back at Tony only to moan again at those dark, dark eyes, trained intensely on what his hands were doing.  How many times had Peter felt his knees go weak at those intense eyes?  And now those intense eyes were looking at him (specifically, his assmeat under Tony’s vigorous hands) and now Peter believed there was a heaven because he was in it.

That’s what he thought.

Until Tony, with a moan, sank his teeth into said assmeat and now Peter didn’t believe anymore.  He knew.

It didn’t hurt, nothing a normal human being could do could hurt Peter, but still his eyes went wide at the force of the bite. He plunged his hands under his groin so he could push his ass further back into Tony’s face, moaning and pleading for more.  Tony complied, but soon he was kissing and licking instead of biting, and he was moaning, and Peter smiled into the bedcovers again because he knew: This was what Tony wanted.  There was no acting here.  This is what Tony had thought about when he thought about getting Peter naked.

He opened his mouth to say it when Tony sat up and pulled his ass to the very edge of the bed.  There he got down on his knees spread Peter wide, and began lapping, with the flat of his tongue, a wet stripe that started at Peter’s scrotum, went up the center of his body and ended at his spine.

“Oh Jesus Tony,”  Peter cried out, his hand flying out to Tony’s head as the man, calmly and systematically did it again.  And again, moving more slowly each time.    Peter was moaning so loudly he was almost crying as Tony started over again, running his tongue slowly and tenderly and lovingly across Peter’s opening and further up until he stopped at the base of Peter’s spine.  Then he began more tender kisses and mouthfuls of Peter’s asscheeks, massaging them the whole time.  He was sucking a line of bruises across the top (sadly there would be no bruises afterward, but Peter wasn’t thinking about that now.)  

It went on forever, and every second proved Peter’s original theory.  Tony had thought about this before.  And the sounds Tony was making?  Completely sincere.  Although Peter could scarcely hear Tony over his own moaning.  He couldn’t help himself.  He was pushing his ass back into Tony’s mouth.  He was humping the bed.  

“Turn over,” Tony finally said, finally pulling up, and Peter willingly obliged.

He went down on Peter like a feast.

Peter came with embarrassing speed, but hoped he would be given a pass under the circumstances.  

     * * * * * * 

 Tony gathered him up in strong arms after he came, just as he has dreamed.  He hid his face in Tony’s neck, hoping the older man wouldn’t notice his ridiculous grin.

Which became an O of surprise when Tony gently took his hand and guided it to his standing (and deliciously big) cock.  Peter moaned and looked up for a kiss as Tony began jerking himself off.

For a time there was silence, no sound except their breathing and the motion of Peter’s hand.  Peter laid his lips against Tony’s ear, just as he had in his fantasies, but had no idea what to say.  (He knew exactly what he wanted Tony to say to him if their positions had been reversed, oh yes.  But he had no plans for this particular configuration.)

Then Tony whispered something he had never dreamed of and it made his head spin.

“Oh Peter, I never thought you’d be here.  I never thought we’d be here.”

Peter cried out in surprise and threw both arms around Tony’s neck and held him close.  It actually took him a moment to realize he was supposed to be doing something ELSE with that hand, and he apologized sheepishly.

“No, no, do that,” Tony moaned and that was why Peter was holding him close and kissing his face while he came.

* * * * * *

Peter was *slightly* disappointed to realize that, yes, Tony WAS in fact coming onto his stomach, but his disappointment was overshadowed by the fact that he was holding Tony Stark in his arms.  

And then there was the little fact that he had just had a very long-time sexual-fantasy question answered, and it made him grin from ear to ear.

He knew what Tony sounded like when he came.

And that’s why Peter relaxed on Tony’s bed and held that man very close.  If this was all they were going to do tonight, so be it.  He held onto the man with strong arms, stroking his back through his t-shirt (the shirt still being on was also a disappointment but only a little,) stroking his hair.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this content.    

“Oh God Tony,” he said finally in the silent room.

“I’ve been thinking about this for such a long time.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Tony said, pulling away and standing up.  The movement was so sudden Peter was startled.  He sat gaping.  The truth was, he had thought Tony had fallen asleep.

“I’m sorry…..” he said when he was able to make his jaw work again.  “What is that supposed to mean?”

He felt that cold dread of doubt creeping in again as Tony sorted through the pile discarded clothes on the floor, sorting out Peter’s and laying them at the foot of the bed.  He had promised Tony, when they were still arguing in the other room, that he wasn’t going to regret this.  Now ‘regret’ was probably the only word for this feeling – the feeling he got when he looked at Tony’s face.

Tony was beginning to look……less enthusiastic.

“That’s the problem, baby.  You spend too many years thinking about getting someone into bed, and you start building up expectations.  You know that lover, the one you invented in your head?  That’s not me.  And there’s no way I can live up to him.  That fantasy, the one you made out of pieces of all your Pornhub bits and … whats that Fantasy-Erotica place?  Ai-Oh-Kay?”

“Ai – Oh -Three.”

“No, I mean the Lord of the Rings and Hogworts-Erotica place.”

“That’s Ai – Oh – Three.”

“No, I thought that was the place where you read erotica about me.”

“It’s all the same place Tony.”

“The one where they say I’m in love with Ste…”

“Trust me, Tony.  I’ve been there.  It’s all the same place.”

Tony brow furrowed as he tried to understand.  

“So….wait….Stark-erotica is in the SAME PLACE as the Hogworts-erotica?”

“Pretty safe bet there are stories that put you physically in Hogworts, yes Tony.  If you can imagine it, someone wrote porn for it.  That’s the rule.

“So, what you’re saying is….” Peter mused, no longer feeling doubtful.  Tony had posed a perfectly logical problem, and Peter found it fascinating.  He was surprised to find out that Tony had been feeling doubtful too.

“…that I can’t live up to whatever you’ve built up in your head, Kid.  Sorry.”

Peter puzzled that out in his head as he sat naked on Tony’s bed.  He stretched one leg out to make it parallel with the edge of the bed, as he often did when he was thinking.  Striking odd poses (just like hanging upside down) often helped him think…

…then he noticed Tony noticing his leg.  He hadn’t even thought about what this weird-dancer-pose would look like to another human being, it had always been a private thing.

Then he smiled, and stretched out his other leg until it, too, was parallel with the bed.  He had never actually shown off his splits-ability to anyone before – there had never been anyone to show it off to – and he grinned at Tony’s reaction.  The man made a hungry noise and stepped closer. Peter had to duck his head to get into Tony’s line of site to make his point.

“Tony?

“You got down on your knees just 20 minutes ago and ate my ass.  

“Any fantasy I ever had in my head can’t live up to the real you.”

Tony lifted his eyes from there they were focused and focuses on Peter’s face.  He reached out and touched the boy’s face.

“That wasn’t ‘eating your ass,’ baby.  

“Let me get you into the shower.  I’ll show you what ‘eating your ass’ really is.”

* * * * *

Peter grinned from ear to ear as he moved his legs into a more human position, and stood.

“Maybe I have been thinking about this for too long,” he said quietly, trying in vain to stop grinning like an idiot.  Trying, and failing.  “But you’ve been thinking about it too.  And I know what you’ve been thinking about.”

Tony only raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” Peter whispered, moving Tony’s hands down to his ass.  “You’ve been thinking about it under your hands, and you’ve been thinking about it under your mouth.”

“I plead the fifth,” Tony whispered back.  He moved his hands up and held Peter by his waist, moving him back enough to look into his eyes.  He looked at him for a long time.

“You know you’re getting the short end of the stick here,” Tony said quietly, finally.  “Taking up with an old man like me.  I mean just look at you, kid.”

Peter didn’t rise to the bait.  He just pulled away enough to look down at himself.  Then he looked back into the face of his older lover.

“I see a 20-year-old kid that still looks 15 and will get carded for the rest of his life.  A dorky kid with a massive crush on THE Tony Stark.”

Tony laughed at that.  He ran his hands over Peter’s biceps, his pectorals, and then his back.

“Kid, there is no planet, there is no version of reality, where a 15 year old looks like this.”

#Starker #Enthusiasm #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #Tony Stark/Peter Parker

[dfel-exe]

Hello bootiful human!!

hiya wonderful requestee! you’re too kind, haha! it literally took me years to get to this request, but it’s done now! hope this satisfies you! i decided to do Harry because there are a lot more Eugene requests, hope you don’t mind

also,,, the new episode of Attack on Titan broke me, thank you next. reading it two years ago literally killed me, but seeing it animated hurt me so much jesus christttt,,, i’m going to be mentally wounded for weeks

*

Better Together - Harry x Reader

Word Count: 1,226

Warnings: none

Key: Y/N - Your Name

*

*

“Alright, now look here,” said the woman who was examining you for any signs of the infection. A bright light flashed in your eyes before you heard the click of the flashlight. She put the tool into her pocket, looking at you with a cold stare. “Clear. You’re good to go.”

You stepped away from the woman, following the man dressed in a military uniform as he led you to the fraction of your group that had already gotten checked off. Lawrence stood in the middle of the group, his eyes glued to the ground with an empty look frozen on his face. Zion was chatting with Eugene while Scarlett tried to get his attention, and Ethan was leaning against the wall, Judy poking at him to annoy him in any way possible. Hailey entered the room with a standoffish look, Jay not far behind. You bit your thumb nail, a nervous habit you had picked up when the apocalypse started, and tapped your foot with impatience.

Sue and Harry entered the room minutes later, two security guards walking in behind them. Once Harry made eye contact with you, your nail biting stopped and you slowly shifted over towards him. Noticing your nerves, he placed his hand on your back and began to rub up and down. Doing that always seemed to calm you down, that was something he had observed from the time the two of you spent together over the past few months. An accomplished feeling came over him as you noticeably relaxed.

One of the guards, who was prominently older than the other, stepped up and scanned the lot of teens in front of him. He cleared his throat, and the incoherent mumbling of the group came to a stop.

“As you can see, you’ve made it to the safe zone. I’ll try to make this quick, as I’m sure you all are very tired. Each tent can hold four people, so you’ll each be sharing a tent with three others. We will choose your tent-mates. We’ll try to keep you grouped together. The two left over that aren’t in a group of four will get partnered with a random group of two. Now, we have some simple rules, so I’ll review over them for you.” He began to pace around the room, explaining each and every rule with detail. You let out a sigh and tuned him out, but not enough to completely miss what he was saying. By the time he finished, everybody in the room looked like they were about to pass out.

“Got it?!”

“Yes, sir,” you all chorused lightly. He nodded, looking over the group once more.

“You two,” he pointed to you and Harry, “are partnered with you two.” He directed your attention towards Judy and Ethan. Judy let out a laugh, her eyes crinkled up with the wide smile she sent to you. When he finished pairing up the groups, the two remaining were Lawrence and Scarlett.

“The two of you will be sharing a tent with another group of two. We’ll figure that out for you as soon as possible. These are your tent numbers.” He gave each group a slip of paper with a number on it before looking up with a stern expression. “You are now dismissed. Breakfast is at seven in the morning, lunch is at noon, dinner is at six in the afternoon, and lights-out is at ten at night. Enjoy your stay.” He then walked out of the room, the second guard following him.

You let out a breath of relief as you slouched down. “‘Make this quick,’ my ass…” you mumbled, quoting the man on his first words. Harry let out a laugh at your attitude, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the room. He looked back at Ethan and Judy, signalling for them to follow. He glanced at the slip of paper in his hand. “Uhm, we have tent seventy-two. Keep your eyes open.”

When the four of you reached your tent, you flopped down onto the mattress, your eyes shining with glee.

“Ah, it feels so nice to not be on the floor!” Judy exclaimed as she jumped on the small bed.

“J-Judy! Don’t break it!” you scolded the childish teen. Harry was looking at the ground with pure concentration as you and Judy rambled on. You aggressively tapped on Judy’s arm as she put you in a playful chokehold, her vision remaining on Harry as she laughed with you. When she released you, she called over to Ethan (who happened to be tidying up the blankets on the beds).

“Ethan, let’s go see if they have any snacks! I’m starving!”

“Oh, I have a granola bar in my bag-” she cut you off with a forceful tone.

“Ethan, c’mon!”

He looked up at her with slight confusion, but the confusion was short-lived as she glanced at you and Harry. He nodded and began to walk out with her without a second thought.

I wonder what that was about…

You looked over at Harry, who was still staring at the ground in deep thought.

“Harry~”

“Hm?” He looked up at you, the frown of concentration on his face turning into a heartwarming smile. “What is it, Y/N?”

“What’s got you thinking so hard? I haven’t seen you this focused in forever.”

“Ah, really? Sorry. I was just thinking about what’s going to happen next.”

“What do you mean?” you questioned, moving over to sit next to him.

“Even before the apocalypse started, I could never catch a break. And while we were in the school, there was always something keeping us on our toes. It just seems too good to be true,” he mumbled the last part, looking back down at the ground. You gazed at him with concern before slapping your hand on his back. He shifted his stare to you as you gave him the brightest smile he had ever seen.

“I totally understand your thought process, but now is our time to relax, don’t you think? Stop worrying about what happened or what’s going to happen, focus on the present and how you can enjoy it. We’re in a safe-zone, nothing bad is going to happen!”

He sighed and looked back down at the ground. “Yeah, I suppose you’re rig-”

You slapped both hands on his cheeks and forced him to make eye contact with you. Giving him a quick peck on the lips, you spoke up once more. “Would you stop being so pessimistic? God, you sound like Eugene! Everything is gonna be alright, you have me with you. So, lift your head up and enjoy your time with me!”

He looked away and smiled, letting out a slight laugh.

“H-Huh? What are you laughing at? Was that too cheesy…?” you questioned with a dejected look on your features.

He continued to chuckle. “No, no, not at all. I’m just wondering how a guy like me managed to be blessed with somebody as amazing as you.”

“Huh? What are you talking about? If anything, it’s the other way around,” you argued back. This went on for a few minutes before the two of you stopped.

“Hey, Harry?”

“What?”

“Do you have any chocolate?”

“Uh, I think so. Why?”

“Chocolate and cuddles?”

He sighed and smiled at you.

“Of course, anything for you, Y/N.”

#dangerous fellows #dangerousfellows #dangerous fellows harry #dangerous fellows lawrence #dangerous fellows zion #dangerous fellows eugene #dangerous fellows ethan #dfel #df #dangerous fellows x reader #dangerousfellows x reader #harry x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #dangerous fellows imagines #lucy dream #lucydream #lucy dream games #xreader #x reader #dangerous fellows one shot #dangerous fellows one-shot #holy hell this took forever #my apologies lovely readers

[mrsedmercer]

Steamy Love (Tom Hiddleston x Reader) Part 12: ~Leg Day~

Summary: You watch High-Rise for the first time, though Tom is more focused on you rather than the screen.

Warnings: Potential spoilers for High-Rise, slightly lemoney

Read it on my Wattpad: @/HiddlesStar

Word count: 2'469

Tags: @theoneanna @midnightdragonzero @drakesfiance @kcd15 @ihthr @deviantsendbyreallife

The first couple minutes of High-Rise were a little weird to follow, but they at least made sense. The beginning was already a bit of a roller coaster, seeing a somewhat scruffy Tom in dirty formal clothes, walking about the High-Rise as his voice narrated about the character he was playing. Laing. "I'm guessing you're Robert Laing.." You spoke, glancing at Tom, who gave you a soft nod. You were one to commentate somewhat if you were watching a movie with someone, especially if you know they've seen it before. You instantly smiled when you saw that white dog appear on screen, Tom visibly pouting. He knew what was about to be shown. "Awe, that's a good boy.." You spoke as Laing pet the dog on screen. Too soon.

Your smile immedietly disappeared as it cut to Laing slowly cooking a piece of the dogs leg, the covered corpse in the background. "He killed the fucking dog!" You gasped, hearing Tom let out a chuckle. You turned to him. "Why are you laughing? You killed that poor dog!" You asked him, but you were kind of smiling. "That's not me! That's Laing!" He pointed at the screen. You jokingly shook your head at him, hearing him chuckle again.

The next couple minutes were just visuals. Laing checking out his apartment, his blinking eyes, his boxes being brought to his room, etc., all while classical music was being played. You understood this was supposed to be an artsy film, so you kept an open mind. Ah, and here comes the famous magazine scene, with nearly all of Tom's physical features in plain view. Damn, he looked amazing. You couldn't help but stare at the screen, even though you've seen him like this before. It's odd to think that, but it's true.

"Captivated?.." Tom spoke from beside you. You noticed he had moved a little closer to you. You didn't mind. You looked back at him with a blush. "I'm watching a movie. That's all."

"Mm. You are. Very closely, it seems.." Tom teased, taking a sip of his drink while keeping his eyes on you. You playfully rolled your eyes and looked back at the screen. Gorey stuff for you is usually a hit or miss. There are days where it doesn't bother you, and days where it makes you tear up. The scene with Laing practically breaking open a skull at work made you a little uneasy, glancing away whenever you could. "Laing is a pretty hardcore guy, huh?" You spoke with a smirk. "I suppose so, yes.." Tom nodded with a little smile. The party scene introduced you to the pregnant woman. She seemed like the most normal woman in the film so far. Laing seemed to get absolutely besotted at the party, eventually being pulled away by Charlotte, the brown haired lady, out to the terrace. "Oh shit, they're definitely gonna fuck." You muttered, making Tom chuckle again. He didn't make a comment this time. He was simply waiting, practically watching you more than the film. He was entertained by your commentary and reactions.

The dream sequence with Laing dancing with all of the women down the hall made you laugh. It really made you wish you had read the book beforehand, though maybe it was better going into this film completely blind. "Are all of your dreams like this?" You asked Tom, seeing him smile. "It wasn't my idea to dance with them. The director made me do it." He admitted. That just made you laugh more. "This movie is fucking great so far." You admitted. "Oh, just you wait.." Tom grinned. "It gets better."

The next couple minutes of the film went by like a bit of a blur. You got a little happy seeing the dog again, but frowned when you remembered what happens to it. "Its really hard for me to like Laing, knowing he kills the dog.." You admitted, glancing at Tom for a moment. "Give it time.." Tom smirked, making you wince a bit before looking back at the screen. Laing was just finishing up with talking to some old guy that had supposedly built the tower, just approaching the 20 minute mark of the film.

That's when it really got interesting.

Laing and Charlotte were suddenly back on the terrace, completely...enraptured. Your eyes widened. They were talking, yes, but...against the terrace? Really? You were speechless. Normally, you'd try to be humorous with scenes like these, but since it was Tom, you were completely speechless. Not a single sound left your lips. All you could do was watch, completely ignoring the characters conversation, just listening to Laing's breathy moans and deep voice, watching him move with Charlotte. God, you know it's just Tom acting, but it was so...alluring. So captivating.

They moved to the table after a moment, starting to feel your cheeks and your thighs get a little warm. Was this really arousing you? "Can you write me a script for sleeping pills?" Charlotte asked Laing. They were both panting. She's a pretty good actress, too. "No.." Laing spoke in a low growl, pinning Charlotte down on the table and beginning to kiss down her lower thighs. His voice was so attractive. You nearly remembered that voice ringing in your own ear just a day or two ago. Seeing him like this just made you imagine the 2 of you together. You had completely forgotten that Tom himself was sitting right beside you, though he wasn't watching the screen as intensely as you were. He wasn't watching the screen at all. "Then tell me how your sister died.." Charlotte spoke. That nearly broke you into laughter, making you cover your mouth somewhat.

"Charlotte, no!.." You chuckled "You don't--you don't say that when a man is--" You started giggling, running your fingers through your hair. "What the fuck, Charlotte. That's not arousing.." Tom laughed a bit as well, watching you continue to stare at the screen. What really got you was when the scene really got graphic, Laing lifting Charlotte's legs up, his hips clearly bucking up against hers, showing pleasure in both of their faces. You were speechless again, watching with great interest. Your eyes had visibly darkened, not that you noticed. Tom sure noticed it, though.

You couldn't help but laugh when Charlotte's son interrupted them. Laing didn't even get to finish. "Okay, hold on.." You grabbed the remote and paused the film shortly after that scene was over, Tom letting out another chuckle. "Too much?" He asked, nudging you some. "I feel like I just watched your leaked sex tape.." You admitted with a laugh. "Jesus christ, are we gonna have to do that leg day shit? When we film?"

"Leg day?" Tom repeated, smiling humorously. "Yeah, with the legs going up like that?" You smiled "Is that what you call that position?" Tom asked before beginning to laugh. You lightly pushed him as he laughed, beginning to chuckle yourself. The laughter helped you mask the clear arousal you were feeling. You nearly felt ashamed for getting aroused over a scene like that, but it was Tom Hiddleston for fucks sake. The same man that's sitting next to you.

The rest of the movie was, once again, a rollar coaster. Characters were dying or completely losing their minds. Everything got much more sleazier. Laing even ended up getting with the pregnant woman, while she was still pregnant. That really grossed you out, though hearing Laing suddenly say "I'm cumming." Just before the scence ended almost made it all worth it. Tom really played this role well, that's for damn sure.

You watched the rest of the movie with constant confusion. It was really hard to keep up with everything, but the jokes you and Tom made throughout it made it a little easier to watch. Once it was over, you paused it and let out a little chuckle.

"Well? How was that?" Tom asked you with a curious smile.

"Ah man, that was...an experience.." You admitted with a chuckle. "I am forever going to keep 'tell me how your sister died' as an inside joke."

Tom let out a chuckle. "I think your 'leg day' comment is even better. That's what I'm calling that position from now on."

"Have you used that position often, then?" You asked him, getting up to help clean up.

A slight chuckle of embarrassment left him as he took out the CD of the film.

"Perhaps.." He admitted. "Have you?"

"You mean have I been in it?" You asked with a smirk. "How often do you think I've had sex?"

Tom shrugged. "You mean you've never been in that position?"

"I've had the one leg up, but not both." You admitted, keeping your smirk. He was the one that had your one leg up, when you had shared a bed.

Tom must've remembered that too, because he smirked back at you.

"Ah, I see.." He gave you a slight purr, picking up the empty cups and bowls, bringing them to the kitchen. The little things he did just to be flirtatious drove you insane, in many ways.

You followed him into the kitchen to help him do the dishes.

"How would you rate the film?" Tom asked you, drying and putting away the dishes while you cleaned them.

"A solid 6, maybe..." You admitted "6 out of 10, though I think our jokes made it funnier, and your acting was...entertaining."

"That's the word you choose to use, hm?" Tom teased. "'Entertaining'.."

"Yes. What word would you choose?" You glanced at him, tilting your head.

"Well...must I comment on how intensely you were staring at the screen?" Tom grinned. "Staring luridly, might I add.."

"Well, you looked rather good in the film. How could I not?" You admitted

"Well..." Tom set down one of the plates he was drying, turning to you. You set one of the dishes back in the sink, backing up somewhat as Tom backed you up against the kitchen counter.

"You can stare at me all you'd like. I'm right here.." He purred, just barely pressing up against you, practically pinning you against the counter.

You gazed up at him, seeing the darkness in his own eyes. The way he looked at you always made you feel wild inside. You've certainly never seen anyone else look at you this way.

"Anytime?.." You asked, seeing him grin down at you.

"Anytime.." He purred, gazing down at heatidly. "We'll be living in the same house for quite some time. Mind as well have a bit of fun.." His hands sneakingly moved to rest on your hips, leaning down so your noses just barely touched.

"Just the two of us, right?.." You asked, your hands gently moving to his chest, toying with the front of his shirt.

"Oh, I don't share..." Tom nodded his head with a smirk. "If you give yourself to me the way you have, you're mine." That last bit came out as a deep growl, his hands sneaking under your shirt to feel your bare hips. His touch always made you tense up. You couldn't help it sometimes.

"G-Good.." You breathed with a soft blush, glancing down at his chest, then looking back up into his dark blue eyes.

He pulled you close by your hips, leaning down to connect your lips once again. Your hands wrapped around his neck, the kiss already rather heated. He slipped his tongue into the kiss, a soft moan escaping you. His hands moved down to your legs, encouraging you to jump. You jumped up on to the counter behind you, feeling him come closer and wrap your legs around his waist. He couldn't press up against you completely with you up on the counter, but he kept you close as you continued to kiss him. He pulled back after a moment and moved to start ravishing your neck. You gripped his back somewhat, a soft moan escaping you as he began sucking at the skin.

His phone started going off in his back pocket, making him pull back with a slight huff. He pulled out his phone, smirking to himself. "It's the director...I have to take this, I'm sorry..." Tom spoke, pulling away from you. You gave a soft smile, hopping off the counter.

"I'll be in my room, if you need me.." You winked, just barely grazing by him, his hand lightly brushing against your hip as you walked away. You could practically feel his heated gaze watch your swinging hips leave before answering the phone call.

You couldn't hear the phone call once you had closed your bedroom door, blushing to yourself. The way he looks at you and holds you makes it feel like a dream once it's all over.

You glanced at your reflection before your cheeks went red. You moved closer to the mirror, spotting the hickey just by the back of your neck. It wasn't too noticable, but if someone was looking at you for quite a while they would definitely see it. Damn it! You and Tom literally start shooting for the film in the next day or so, and now he's given you a visible hickey. You hoped you could cover it up with makeup.

Tom came into your room after a couple minutes, leaning against the open door frame.

"We start filming tomorrow morning. We have to be at the set for 8am." Tom spoke.

"You gave me a hickey." You smirked, seeing a small smile spread along his lips.

"And?" He asked.

"And...we start filming tomorrow..." You repeated what he said earlier. "What am I supposed to say on set with a big hickey on my neck?"

"You don't have to answer to anyone." Tom shrugged, moving into the room. You couldn't help but smile, despite feeling a little nervous.

"Do you think anyone will find out? Offset, I mean.." You gave a slight pout.

"No one knows where we're filming.." Tom replied. "If any paparazzi or fans show up anytime during filming, it certainly won't be this week. The hickey will be gone by then."

You let out a slight sigh of relief, smiling a bit. "I know my constant concern is probably annoying. I just know how much you hate rumours and shit.."

"It's not annoying. The paparazzi are bloody annoying.." Tom admitted, gently taking one of your hands. "Your concern is heartwarming.." You smiled up at him, quietly leaning up to peck his lips. He smiled more, his hands moving to your hips once more.

"Now, where were we?..." Tom purred with a dark grin, a snicker escaping as he lifted you up once more. You let out a giggle as he carried you to your bed.

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x you #steamy love #fanfiction #fanfics

[amnachil]

The College Society Chapter 2 Part 3

Enjoy :)

Liam Friday December 8

Lunchtime was almost over. Liam was thinking about Theo the ogre while Nick finished his fries. (One quick question : where did Theo hide the corpse he was eating ?). (He was an ogre for sure, because he definitely had fattened Pete, and soon, the blond boy would be gone forever). (Or not, but it didn't prove Theo was human for all that).

"Jesus, are you listening to me ?"

Liam blinked, surprised. He turned towards the guy who talked to him. I saw him somewhere...

"I asked you already three times if you remember me ?" asked the stranger.

He was blond, with scary brown eyes. Not particulary muscular, neither skinny. I know I talked with him this week but I can't place where.

"Sorry man, but Liam is a bit dreamy." spoke Nick. "He probably doesn't even remember what he just ate."

(This was a shocking exaggeration, he took a pizza.) (Or was it pasta ? Damnit).

"Whatever, I'm Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey. We met at the pool the other day. I kicked you and all, do you recall ?"

Oh. Yeah. Or not. Apparently, he had some memories issues.

"Yeah, hi Damian." he lied anyway. "What's up ?"

The guy looked at him with a mix of amazement and anger. What did I do this time ?

"I'm Damian. Nicholas. Smith-Carrey." repeated the blond lad slowly. "Not Damian."

Nick swallowed somes fries, fascinated by their conversation.

"Isn't it the same ?" asked Liam. "I mean, I can call you Nicholas if you prefer. Or Dami ?"

The other almost made himself hoarse. He took a moment, and inhaled deeply.

"Okay, you're definitely a freak." he whispered. "Anyway, look, I don't want to lose any time so... Do you want to come with me at this big party this saturday ?"

"I'm sorry, I'm working during weekend evenings." replied Liam. "Plus, I'm not into party that much."

Dami looked at him for a moment. Maybe I have a spot on my face ? This whole discussion was weird. (Dami seemed to be a good guy tho).

"Forget it." this latter eventually said. "Bye."

And he left as fast as he came.

Then, Nick and Liam went to class. The afternoon passed quite fast. Once the last lecture over, they reached their flat. The chesnut boy called his bestfriend before going to sleep (At 8pm, yes, but whatever). He related his day, and when he mentionned the weird talk he had at noon, Nate remained silent for a while.

"What's wrong buddy ?" Liam worried. "Are you attacked by an ogre or somethin' ?!"

"No but... Do you realise Damian just invited you on a date ?"

A what ? That couldn't be possible. Someone asked him out ? Just like that ? No, that's too direct. We don't know each other at all. I met him what ? Two times ?

"I know what you're thinking." laughed Nate. "And maybe you're right. Maybe the man just invited you for a party because you're so damn famous when it comes to partying. Or maybe he just asked every stranger he had encoutered this week to come ? Who knows ?"

"That's more plausible." agreed Liam.

His bestfriend sighed.

"Look, Gwendoline is waiting for me but, promise me you won't do anything stupid."

"Of course. I promise."

Why people thought he was likely going to do something silly ? He wasn't clumsy or whatever, was he ? Anyway, he hung up and went to bed.

"That's my fuckin' bedroom !" yelled Nick. "Go in yours for god sake !"

Rebecca Saturday December 9

When Emilio had told her it would be a huge party, she never expected this. The biggest fraternities and sororities organised it together each year. The event took place at the main hall of the university. Apparently, they had the Dean's permission thanks to his grandson, or something like that. Rebecca arrived late, because she had trained with Bob until 9pm. So, when she got there, she saw people eveywhere. Some were drunk, some were high. Most of them were only starting. She glanced couples having sex in the park next to the facility. That's what I call a fuckin' orgy. Her boyfriend had texted her his location, but she couldn't find him. Where the hell he went ? The black girl searched for a long time before she ran into Chelsea.

"Hi Rebbie !" this one yelled. "Having fun ?!"

"Not really ! I'm looking for Emilio ?!"

They were all screaming in this cacophony.

"I saw him like two minutes ago heading towards the dance stage !"

"Thanks !"

Rebecca went inside. Wow, what the fuck is that smell ? The music was more than loud. Her eardums were bleeding. But she saw him. Emilio. Surrouned by two girls heavily drunk. One kissing him, the other way too close to his ass. The hell is he doing ?

"The real nature of people is shown at parties." said someone.

She turned and saw Matthew. The guy wasn't mocking her, he didn't seem happy with what they were watching.

"Sorry. I'm used to this but you're only discovering this part of him."

The black girl looked again at Emilio. It wasn't an accident, he clearly was kissing that girl. Even worst, he also started to kiss the other.

"He's drunk." she said. "He's not controlling his actions."

"Oh yeah, and you feel better now that you found this lame excuse ? Tell me miss, why aren't you over there yelling at him ? Or at least make him stop ?"

She didn't know what to say. In a way, he was right. Even drunk, Emilio shouldn't do that. And she was supposed to be angry. But she was just... like sad. Disappointed maybe ?

"Look, Emilio had always tons of girl around him." stated Matthew. "It's in his nature you know ? I think you deserve better than him. C'mon, let's ignore him. Come with me and Chelsea, you'll have fun, I promise."

I don't understand this dude. He was mean like one month ago and now... Whatever, she didn't came at the party to think. She nodded and followed him.

Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey Saturday December 9

Pasta's place was very well known across the town to be the best restaurant. The owner, Mrs. Liliano, got a secret way to make pasta that people just loved. The Dean's grandson never expected this weird little freshman to work there. But he did. And that was why he declined the invitation to the party. Usually, Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey was more sublte with his preys. But he had quickly realised this one was special. Very special. And tonight, there was the biggest party of december. Summer, that idiotic whore, had been organising it since September. It was the perfect occasion to learn a bit more about Liam. But first, they had to go at the party, obviously. The Dean's grandson entered in Pasta's place with this goal in mind. He went straigh to the counter.

"Look who's here." grinned a cold voice. "Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey. I never expected to see you again."

Strong voice, sweet tone. A bit agressive when she said my name. I love when she says it. Damnit, that's hot.

"Hey Judith." he smiled. "Nice to meet you too. How are you ?"

It was a bit hyprocritical. Judy was one year older, and he had met her when he was a freshman. She was one of the very first prey he had hunted in college. She had earned her place in his DVD number 1, with his special favorites. Also, she did fellatio quite well.

"Better when you're not here." she answered curtly. "What do you want ?"

Funny story. When he had ditched her, she had gone a bit mad. She hadn't appreciated when he had got bored of their routine. She had gone through a supposed break-down and had left the university to work with her mother, the famous Mrs. Liliano.

"I need you to free Liam asap. He and I are going to a party."

Judy frowned.

"No way. You're not putting your dirty hands on this sweet guy. Not on my watch."

That was a bit predictable. This resentful hooker gave him bad intention all along.

"Look, I'm sure we'll go through this." he assured. "For example, you could let Liam come with me and in exchange... We bang together here and there. That wouldn't be the first time we use your restaurant for something else than eat food."

"Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey, you're disgusting."

"How long since the last time you had sex ?"

"Centuries. Fuck you. I'll go get him. But be nice."

"I'm always nice."

They arrived at the party only around 11pm. It was mainly Liam's fault. This guy took an eternity to change, and another to walk to here. At least he agreed to come... Even if he seems a bit off. He was just watching around him, but not really watching. It was like walking with a living doll. I wonder how he manages to find his path in his daily life.

"Dami, is that Theo over there ?"

This. Is. Not. My. Fucking. Name. Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey did his best to not punch this insolent freshman. He glanced at the direction Liam's showed. Indeed, he recognized Theo, with two fatties. One ex-swimmer and a footballer if he recalled right. Greedy bastard.

"We should save them before he..." whispered Liam.

"Before he what ?"

The chesnut guy lowered his eyes and mumbled something so low only god heard. What's his problem again ? This guy is a real weirdo. Simple-minded like he was, the Dean's grandson could probably led him in his bed in the next hour. But I feel something odd. No, I know he'll decline an invitation to have sex. And I don't know why. That's troublesome.

"Liam, I'm inclined to help you, but only if you tell me what's the matter ?"

"I think Theo will ate them both..." he stammered.

Jeez. I must be hallucinating. Did he think Theo was a cannibal ? In fact, it wasn't that absurd but... What the fuck ?

"Sorry Dami, I'm bothering you. I'm really dozy."

"My name is Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey." corrected the blond lad.

"It's what I said."

Fucking god what did I do to deserve such a moron ? Damnit, why can't this dumbass asshole says my whole name like every fucking one else ? What's wrong with him ? Is he broken ?

"Just go to sleep." decided Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey (you see, easy name). "I'm done for tonight."

Liam thanked him and left just like that. And I did all this for nothing. Fucking nothing. He still had half the night to spend. Let's go back to Judy. I could use her skills for fellatio right now.

To be continued

Well... This part is focused on Liam/Damian’s relationship and you can tell it won’t be easy for the hunter. Not easy to catch someone as special as Liam !

As for Rebecca, she’s about to discover something about their college... What exactly Matthew wants ? And how Emilio’ll justify himself ?

See you soon for the next part !

#the college society #cs #Liam #Rebecca #Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey #the hunt is not going as exepcted #Liam's miles away #Emilio is an ass #chapter 2 #Part 3

[wroteasongabouther]

Grumpy - A Harry Styles Imagine

PAIRING: Harry/Y/N

RATING: R

WORD COUNT:  16k  (!!!!what!!!!!)

A/N: im really really sorry about my absences with my series but ive been writing this over the past while and quite like it so i really hope you all like it too xx  feedback is always lovely

Harry’s smirk soon changes back to the usual scowl he had around you. His brows wound tight, green eyes narrowed to slits, while his mildly chapped lips formed a hard thin line. His one hand is holding up his towel while the other steadied himself, suppose it’d take a bit more than a hot shower to cure this hangover. Then before you can stop it, your eyes are drifting from the droplets in his hair to his wet chest. His towel is dangerously low, exposing his more defined v line and his treasure trail that leads to...

Harry clears his throat then, snapping you back to attention. There’s that smirk again. You raise a brow and mirror his smirk.

“Just checking there’s no new stupid tattoos,” you say, lying through your teeth. Harry knew it too. So you just roll your eyes again and turn on your heels. “Downstairs, twenty minutes,” you call over your shoulder before letting yourself out of his hotel room.

or 

The one when Y/N works for Harry who has one bad attitude.

(Find the next parts here)

The sounds of empty bottles smacking into each other fills the hotel room as you finally swipe the card through and get the door open. You have to stop yourself before spewing out a string of curses and groans. The room is a wreck though. Empties littered across the floor, clothes in piles, and you notice some obvious feminine articles as well. You roll your eyes and round the corner where the bed was and as you thought so, it’s not just occupied by one naked body but two.

“Oh god,” you gasp, covering your eyes at the sight.

“What tha-“

“Oh my god! Didn’t you see the do not disturb sign Jesus Christ I’ll call the front desk and get you fired,” the young woman in the bed shouts as she pulls the covers over her body. Suppose she was in for a surprise when she realized you weren’t housekeeping.

“What are you thinking, Harry?” you question harshly, eyes ignoring the dumb blonde and focused on the squinting young man beside her.

“What are the doin’ in my room?”

“You were supposed to be at breakfast thirty minutes ago,” you state.

“Fuck,” he mumbles while sitting himself up now. Thankfully when the girl moved the covers, they ended up over his junk - not that you haven’t seen it before, just that you weren’t entirely a fan of seeing it. You roll your eyes again and cross your arms at your chest.

“Who are you?” the girl asks.

“Who are you?” You counter back, narrowing your eyes at her.

“Um, my name is...” she trails off and looks to Harry, “what did you say my name was again if someone asked?”

You snort, having to bring a hand to your lips in order to not put right laugh at this situation. He still had the same stupid plan even after all these years. Damn idiot, he was.

“Oh god, you’re not his girlfriend or something are you?” she gasps suddenly.

“Oh sweetie, if I was his girlfriend you’d be dead right now,” you exclaim with a smile. She sinks down into the mattress. “No, don’t get comfy, you’re leaving now,” you bark out the order while motioning with one hand for her to get out of the bed.

“I’m naked!”

“Then get dressed,”

“Oh my god, look away or something you fucking weirdo,”

You only roll your eyes again, turning around so your back was to the bed now. Harry grumbles, you hear him flop down into his bed again as his company gets out from the hotel bed. The girl gets dressed silently but after she’s down you hear her whisper something to Harry, which she only gets a grumbly ‘goodbye’ in response. She walks passed you, avoiding eye contact, but you follow right after her.

“Your phone,” you say while holding out your hand. The girl turns around at the threshold of the hotel room.

“It’s been off since I got up here,” she says.

You shake your head, “prove it,” you order.

She sighs, taking the iPhone from her pocket and hits the home button a few times. The screen stays black each time and you have no choice but to believe her. You stand straight then, narrowing your eyes at her. She looked rather rough, hair all over the place and black smudged down her face - not to mention her shirt was on backwards.

“Speak a word of this to anyone and you’ll pay for it. Post any sort of photo or video and you’ll pay for it. Just keep this night to yourself, dream about it, relish in the thought you fucked Harry Styles and then get over it. They all have to,” you say. Then with that, you shut the door in her face and turn back to handle the real problem at hand.

“Way to make me sound like a slut,” Harry mumbles.

“You are,” you state bluntly. Harry glares from where he lays in bed. His hair was all sorts of messed up too, but he kinda made it work you guessed, while his eyes were slightly bloodshot and he was squinting at the daylight peeking through the blinds. All of this was a sight you saw rather regularly. This was your job, laying right here, hungover as shit.

“Are you ever going to grow up, Harry?” you question. Harry let’s out a groan in response. “No, seriously, because I’ve been kicking nameless girls out of your fucking hotel room since you were 19 years old now. Isn’t it getting tired? Because I can tell you it is for me,”

“Then leave,” he utters.

“No,” you say and cross your arms at your chest again. “It’s my job, doesn’t mean I can’t complain about my job. You sure as hell do,”

“Yeah I do,” Harry resorts, lifting his head from the pillow to glare at you again. “Now fuckin’ leave, m’tired,”

Can you believe you roll your eyes again? Bloody idiot he was, thinking you’d just walk out and leave. You manoeuvre around the mess on the floor and walk into the bathroom, reaching into the shower to turn it on as hot as it can. As it steams up the room you organize Harry’s toiletries that way he has one less thing to complain about once he gets his ass in gear. When you return to the bedroom, Harry has actually made some process, eyes glued to his phone screen.

“Get in the shower,” you command him. “Now!” You shout this time.

Harry tosses his phone off to the side of the mattress, wraps a sheet around himself and gets out of bed. But of course he’s sporting his best piercing scowl while doing so. You simply return the icy look with a tight smile. Just as Harry steps into the bathroom, not bothering to shut the door, you phone buzzes. It’s Jeff texting you for an update on what’s happening. You reply with a short summary of your morning affairs, assuring him that his number one client was up and at it now.

“Don’t take your time, car leaves in 30,” you state while leaning against the doorway of the bathroom. The glass door for the shower is fogged up, but you can see Harry moving around thankfully. Some days he liked to just stand there and waste everyone’s time.

Harry doesn’t respond, so your eyes fall back to your phone screen. You decide to triple check the itinerary for today. The flight from Basel to Paris was close to two hours long which meant Harry would have plenty of time to sleep away his hangover.

“Why don’t you just quit if you complain about your job so much?” Harry asks, talking loudly over the sound of the shower.

“Cause it’s my job, has been forever now,” you sigh.

“I think it’s cause you love me,” Harry says. You can hear the smirk on his lips, and then as the water turns off and the shower door opens you look away for a moment till he’s got a towel on. Low and behold there’s that precious smirk of his.

“Oh yeah,” you taunt, “Who wouldn’t love a man with your drinking habits and all the whores too. Oh and that attitude, ugh, ta die for,” you swoon jokingly.

Harry’s smirk soon changes back to the usual scowl he had around you. His brows wound tight, green eyes narrowed to slits, while his mildly chapped lips formed a hard thin line. His one hand is holding up his towel while the other steadied himself, suppose it’d take a bit more than a hot shower to cure this hangover. Then before you can stop it, your eyes are drifting from the droplets in his hair to his wet chest. His towel is dangerously low, exposing his more defined v line and his treasure trail that leads to...

Harry clears his throat then, snapping you back to attention. There’s that smirk again. You raise a brow and mirror his smirk.

“Just checking there’s no new stupid tattoos,” you say, lying through your teeth. Harry knew it too. So you just roll your eyes again and turn on your heels. “Downstairs, twenty minutes,” you call over your shoulder before letting yourself out of his hotel room.

How you got the privilege to work for the less than lovely Harry Styles is beyond you. One day you were an intern at One Direction label, being offered to tag along on tour, and then the next thing you knew you were the one keeping all five boys in check. And you did your job well. Always professional, but can also be personal when needed too, and you got shit done. So when the band decided on their hiatus, you kept contact with them all - but everyone knew Harry was the one who needed your help the most. Liam and Louis had grown up and had kids, while Niall was never a worry to begin with, it was just Harry who was still lost. So when his new manager, Jeff, called you one day to offer you a job you knew you couldn’t decline and leave him to deal with the mess that was Harry. He only ever listened to you, therefore he needed you.

“He’s up?” Jeff asks as you approach the group standing near the lobby doors.

“Sure is, and hungover and grumpy and an asshole but what else is new,” you sigh and glance down at your phone as it buzzes in your hand. It’s Harry ordering a large black coffee before he gets down to the lobby. “Anyone want to come get some coffee with me?” You ask, eyeing up the band and few others standing by.

“I could use a tea,” Clare shrugs and follows after you.

“Grumpy needs a coffee,” you state as you push open the door to the breakfast lounge - for a lack of better words.

“Of course he does,” Clare chuckles, “he and Mitch were out late last night.”

“I know,” you nod.

She doesn’t respond as you pour the coffee into the cup, putting on a lid and a sleeve before pouring your own next. Once you’ve got three packets of sugar and one cream, you and Clare head back to the group. You’re not surprised to see you’re still waiting on Harry.

“I told him twenty minutes,” you say defensively when Jeff gives you a look.

“It’s been close to,” he states.

“I can only do so much, Jeff, can’t hold his damn hand anymore,” you huff and bring your coffee to your lips. Of course it’s too hot and burns your tongue a little.

As you look at the usual few that follow Harry on his drinking nights, you notice none of them look in as bad of shape as Harry did. Suppose they’re starting to realize they can’t keep up to a young rockstar with a drinking problem. Didn’t matter how many stories good old Tim the lead crew had from back in the day of him drinking, he was tapping out after three beers as Harry downs his fifth drink of the night. If Harry were to stop at five then that’d be a good night. His typical limit was ten. But most nights he liked to exceed that lately. The guys should’ve been around when it all started, 19 year old Harry was even worse somehow. Miller, his bodyguard since the beginning, could vouch for you.

“There you are,” Jeff exclaims as Harry makes his arrival. He’s dressed in a black t-shirt and blue slim fit jeans with some Vans upon his feet and sunglasses adoring his face to block the daylight from his sensitive eyes. A usual look.

“Coffee,” Harry grunts and grabs ahold of one of the coffee cups from your hands. Before you can tell him he took yours, he takes a large sip and his faces says it all.

“That’s mine,” you state, switching them between your hands to give him the black coffee this time. Harry immediately washes away the taste from your coffee with his own.

“We’re getting late, let’s move people,” Jeff shouts loud enough for the group traveling together to hear.

There’s one van and one car for the handful of you left to head to the next stop on tour - Paris, France. You were rather excited to be back in Paris. Meant you actually had the excuse to speak French. Which was one of the five languages you spoke fluently. But also Paris was Paris and if you weren’t excited to be there you’d be delusional.

“Helene, I need you to send me the best shots from last night please,” you call up to where the tour photographer sat front seat of the van.

“Just stage photos or backstage too?” she asks, looking through her laptop.

“Uh a few of both maybe,” you answer. Harry, who’s sitting beside you in the back seat of the van, shushes you harshly. Turning your head to look his way, you see his brows pulled down which could only mean he’s scowling behind those sunglasses he’s got on.

“Quit being so bloody loud,” he says.

“I’m not-“

“Fuckin’ screaming in mah ear,” he mumbles, turning his body away as much as he possibly can. His hip knocks into yours, which makes you glare at him as he tosses around like a child.

“Sorry I’m doing my fuckin’ job, Harry,” you snap back at him. You only get a mumbled response, you don’t even bother to get him to repeat whatever comment he has. Instead you focus on your phone as you get an email from Helene containing the photos you had just asked for.

During a meeting a few weeks prior to tour starting back up, Jeff and yourself agreed it’d be good if Harry got more involved on social media. All you two asked of him was to post one photo from each show. But Harry asked as though you were asking him to sew you a damn dress after every night. This of course lead to you getting his social media passwords and having to do the simple task yourself. It was kinda upsetting to see his fans react to a tweet, thinking its send by their idol when in reality it’s just you.

“Look good or what?” You ask Harry, literally shoving your phone into his face. He surprises you, lifting his glasses and grabbing your phone from your hand.

“Black boarder, not white,” he mutters and hands you back the phone.

“Okay,” you sigh. Guess that was as much input he had on the post.

It’s not soon enough arriving at the private jet. Harry had continue to toss, nudging you repeatedly, through the remainder of the fifteen minute car ride. Then you’re helping Grumpy figure out the back seats and letting him stomp up the stairs of the plane.

In the air plane, there’s sort of a like a ‘picnic table’ set up to it. Two to four chairs would face each other, the groups of four had a full table between while the two chairs facing each other had an open space. Of course you took it upon yourself to sit across from Harry, seeing that you were one of the few people in the plane who could deal with his attitude. Harry immediately slumps down in his seat, buckles up for take off, and sits with his legs spread apart comfortably you hoped. You give him one more look, noticing he crosses his arms at his chest, before knowing he’s falling fast asleep.

You sort of wished he would’ve slept the whole flight, but half way through Harry wakes just as you’re feeling uncomfortable from the long flight. You’ve already tried to get up and wake around, talking to Clare and Sarah about some cafe they wanted to go to in Paris. But then you found yourself back in your seat, nibbling on your bottom lip while looking at your phone screen. That’s when Harry grumbles, sitting up finally and stretching. 

“Get enough sleep?” you ask, glancing up from your phone to meet his hooded eyes. He had pushed up his sunglasses to rub the sleep from his eyes. 

“I guess,” he mutters. 

“Your Instagram post is getting quite the buzz,” you state. 

“Cool,” 

“Cool,” you mock him, rolling your eyes too. In which Harry returns of course. 

It’s silence between you after that. You’re both focused on your phones, Harry bugs the flight attendant for a drink which you very quickly modify to just be a soda with no sorta of liquor at all. This earns a glare from Harry and some mumbling under his breath. 

Your legs are beginning to feel cramped up again, you seriously hated flights sometimes. When you had to travel longer distances you usually popped a gravel and passed out in order to not fumble around in your seat to get comfortable hours on end. You kick out your heeled black Balenciaga booties out till your toes hit Harry’s seat in front of you, your legs between his spread out legs. That’s not much comfortable though, just as you go to cross your legs Harry reaches down and grabs your ankle. 

“Just rest ‘em here,” he says while placing your boots on his thigh. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and feel your stomach do some kinda twist from the gesture. While Harry’s unfazed by it all, looking out the window of the plane while you cross your ankles on his jean clad thigh. He had the right idea though because you’re the most comfortable you’ve been the whole flight with your feet up. 

“Thanks,” you say with a tight smile. 

“No problem,” 

You look back at your phone, checking your own social medias for once. After people got the fact you worked for One Direction, your following grew an unbelievable amount. This only really meant you needed to hold onto a few media training skills you gave the boys for yourself, watching what you posted and what you said in order to not get backlash from the fans. But there was always backlash. 

“Are you goin’ to teach me any French?” Harry asks suddenly, bringing your gaze back to where he sat. He had rested his arm over your ankles and was hunched forward just a little. Seems that hangover really was fading away. 

“Yeah, I can,” you nod. 

“Just somethin’ simple I can talk to the crowd with,”

You nod again and think of something, anything really, and quick before this small nice gesture of Harry’s vanished behind another scowl. After his theatre tour last year everyone sat down and evaluated the shows. First thing that you brought up was the lack of interaction Harry gave to his fans. Yes, he was a stellar performer and his fans loved him for that but he barely said a sentence every night and it wasn’t going to cut it. Just yesterday Harry mentioned learning different languages and you loved the idea. 

“Bonsoir, Je ma’ppelle Y/N,” you say - you sure did miss speaking French, having learnt in your school days all the way up till your graduated at college.

One corner of Harry’s mouth twitches upwards just a bit before he clears his throat, “one more time,” he says. 

“Bonsoir, Je ma’ppelle Y/N,” you repeat. 

“Bonsoir, Je ma’ppelle Harry,” he echoes. 

“Good,” you smile, yes actually smile at Harry. “Uh, let’s go, J’appends le Francais mais je suis un peu lent.” 

Harry asks for you to repeat it again, the consecrated look on his face is kinda cute. Then he says it, mispronouncing only one word so you repeat it again and then he gets it down. Without you even asking or telling him anything else Harry puts the whole bit together with a small smile upon his lips. It just hits you that he hasn’t even bothered to ask what all of this you’re teaching him means, so of course you decide to poke some fun at him too. 

“Et je suis une douleur dans le cul,” you say, grinning at him now. 

“Et je suis une douleur dans le cul,” Harry repeats. 

Helene, who’s sitting close by, laughs loudly then which causes Harry to furrow his brows together and look her way. Everyone else around her is busy talking, have headphones in or are sleeping so it’s rather obvious she’s laughing at the little prank you’ve pulled on Harry. You two shit talked in French quite often actually. 

“What am I saying?” Harry roars out the question with annoyance in each word. You swear you see Adam jolt up in his seat 

You simply return the hint of anger with a smile, “Good evening, my name is Harry. I’m learning French but I am a little slow. And I’m a pain in the ass,” 

“Funny,” Harry grumbles, crossing his arms at his chest. 

“Thought so,” you smirk. There’s no missing the scowl that’s starting to take over Harry’s face, so you quickly kick out your foot and glare at him. “Don’t start, it was just a joke,” you say. 

Harry narrows his eyes at you but you notice the twitch of his lips again. It’s kinda sweet how he tries to not show you a smile sometimes. You run a hand through your hair, fixing the soft curls while letting out a small sigh. 

“Je suis désolé, s'il vous plait, ne me renvoyez pas,” you say, giving him a toothy smart-ass grin. Helene chuckles again before focusing back on her laptop to edit more photos you’d assume. 

“What’d ya say this time?” Harry asks, still as grumpy as ever. 

“I’m sorry, please don’t fire me,” you smile. 

Harry chuckles, “couldn’t even if I wanted to, love,” he mumbles before looking down at his phone. 

You roll your eyes but there’s still a smile on your lips. He was right. Even if you did something out right stupid, which you never would cause you’re the smart one here, Harry would never fire you. Plus Jeff wouldn’t let him. As you’ve said before, they needed you. Grumpy bugger would only listen to you. 

“‘Kay, minus the last part, speak French to me, Grumpy,” you tease. 

Harry rolls his eyes, “Bonsoir, Je ma’ppelle Harry. J’appends le Francais mais je suis un peu lent,” 

You’re staring, you know you are, but his voice sounds kinda nice. Smooth and still a little husky from his little nap. Harry speaking French was kinda hot. And you’d never admit it aloud. You’d be a damn fool to not find Harry attractive in even the slightest bit, over all these years there’s been certain times when you find yourself feeling drawn to him - but then he acts like a brat and fucks another fan for fun. You were too good for him, and he’d never see you like that anyways. 

“What?” Harry questions your staring, taking a sip of his drink. 

“Nothing,” you shake your head, “let’s add, um, merci d’etre avec nous ce soir. It mean’s thank you for being with us tonight,” 

“One more time,” Harry insists, face screwed up as he tries to remember what you just said to him. It’s kinda cute, his lips mouthing out the words before he says any just to be sure of himself. You repeat yourself one more time like he asked and of course, he’s got it no problem. The fans tonight in Paris were going to love him. Which meant you were doing your job right. 

⏤

Three shots of expresso in your second coffee of the day wasn’t your best decision, at the time of ordering at the cute little cafe with Clare and Sarah you were more concerned about the fact you were nearly falling asleep at the table. But now you had caffeine overdose jitters while walking around backstage. Jeff had you check out a few things with the crew, hand out some PIT tickets to a lovely fan and her family and now you were finally heading back to the dressing room. You shouldn’t be surprised when you open the door and see red wine being passed around, Harry drinking straight from the bottle.

Mitch and his red wine, and Harry and his drinking problem, right? You hold back the eye roll and walk towards the wardrobe rack that had been set up. There’s three options, as there is every night, from Harry Lambert for Harry to chose from. Then it was your job to text Lambert which suit Harry chooses and then he did his Instagram story thing. As you look at the suits, you really hope you can persuade him to wear the other sparkly YSL custom made one. It may be your favourite.

“Oi! M’not shit at ping pong, you are!” Harry barks back at Adam, followed by some laughter thankfully. Wine made Harry a bit more bubbly than some other liquors he enjoyed.

“I suck cause you suck,” Adam counters back.

“Shut up, I’m bettah then you’ll ever be,” Harry says. You do roll your eyes this time. Narcissistic grumpy boy, he was. You quickly make your way towards where he sat between his stupidly expensive Gucci pillows.

“Okay, that’s enough wine now,” you exclaim while stealing the bottle out of his hands.

“What the fuck,” Harry grumbles, turning in order to scowl at you.

You give him a smile before looking to the band, “Grumpy has to get changed, he’ll meet you out there,” you say. The four all stand and leave without a fight, Mitch taking the bottle of red with him as you hand it his way.

“You’re a buzz kill, anyone tell ya that before?” Harry quips, standing from his seat once the others are gone.

“Actually, you have, several times. Mostly after I kick your little whores out,”

Harry simply glares at you in return. Your expresso fuelled energy kicks in again as you rack your hand over the few suits for him to pick from. You immediately grab the hanger that holds the custom YSL.

“I think you should wear this,” you propose, smiling as you hold out the suit for Harry to take. He gives it a once over look, then does the same thing to you which causes your eyes to narrow.

“And why should I take fashion advice from you? You’re literally wearin’ a jumper and jeans,” he says.

“First of all, my shoes cost as much as my monthly rent. Second off, this sweater is your tour merchandise. And lastly these jeans make my ass look amazing thank you very much,” you counter back defensively with a snarl on your lips.

Harry smirks, “wouldn’t be able to tell if your ass looks good or not, love, you’re practically swimming in that jumper. You look bloody ridiculous,”

“I like to be comfortable, get over it and wear this god damn suit,” you growl and shove the suit at Harry. He’s quit to grab the garment before it hits the floor, raising a brow at you before you stomp off and sit on the sofa. Even though the pillows cost way too much, they were sort of comfortable. You bring your legs up on the sofa, tucking them to your chest while you lay your head on the pillow. Queue the start of your caffeine crash. Your fingers toy with the fringe along the pillow as you fight to keep your eyes open while waiting for Harry to change.

You must’ve nodded off for a few minutes, waking to Harry’s gently nudging you. Opening your eyes, you are met with so much sparkle it almost blinds you. But it makes you give a lopsided lazy smile, you were right Harry looked amazing in the suit. 

“Good choice,” you say. 

“Thanks, made it myself,” he jokes with a smug look. You roll your eye and lay your head down again. “Before you fall back asleep, can you go over the French again, I don’t really want to make a fool of myself out there,”  

“M’not going to fall asleep, just resting my eyes,” you say, followed by a yawn. 

“Right,” Harry drones. You smile while shutting your eyes. Suddenly you feel Harry’s large hands grasping ahold of your calves, lifting them before the sofa sinks under his weight and he brings your legs to rest across your lap for the second time today. 

“Ton costume a l'air très joli. Et votre français est bien,” you say sleepily. 

“Merci?”

“You’re welcome, Grumpy,” you smile. “Okay.. Bonsoir, Je ma’ppelle Harry. J’appends le Francais mais je suis un peu lent. Merci d’etre avec nous ce soir,” 

There’s silence from Harry. You’re almost too tired to open your eyes and see wether he had fallen asleep himself or maybe he was looking at his phone distracted again. Peeking one eye open, you see it’s nether. Harry’s looking at you, while his fingers are toying with the frays along the bottom of your jeans. You close your eyes again, wiggling your hips further into the couch for comfort. 

“Need me to repeat myself?” you ask, as smug as he had been before. 

“Uh, yeah,” Harry says and clears his throat, stilling picking at your fraying jeans. You fight back the smile and say the few sentences in French again. In order to keep from the caffeine crash you kept talking to Harry, trying to perfect the articulation of his words to the best you can. 

Then it was almost show time. You’re up, yawning the whole way through, and doing your job. From the dressing room to backstage, you can hear the fans singing along to the tunes as you follow behind Harry. Just as he gets to the stairs, he catches your gaze. You immediately notice he’s got a bit of a scowl on his face since someone mentioned the opening act running a little late. So you lift your pointer fingers to the corners of your mouth while showing him a big smile. Harry rolls his eyes but you can’t miss the fact his scowl is gone and there’s a hint of a smile on his lips now.

Like the show prior, you and Jeff stand off to ‘stage right’ to watch from the sidelines. Just before the lights go down and the rubix cube visuals cause a stir from the arena, you notice Harry mouthing the French you two had been working on backstage. Your lips curl up into a smile before you bring your to-go cup of tea to have another sip. Then the screen rises, the whole arena erupts in high pitched screams, and the band starts playing Only Angel. Your head bobbing along to the beat as Harry belts out the lyrics with all his might, performing had always been his favourite. Suppose your job wasn’t all that bad.

It doesn’t surprise you when you head backstage to the dressing room again half way through the show. You had yawned so much that Jeff told you to go nap till the show was over. So you did, sleeping till Helene is shaking you awake saying it’s about time to make the mad dash from the arena. 

⏤

“I’ll get a coffee please,” you say, smiling at the waiter before he nods and walks off. 

“It’s like 8 in the evening,” Sarah states from across the table. She, Clare, Helene and yourself had decided to have a late dinner at the restaurant in your hotel in Stockholm. 

“I have to stay up late, prepare for some upcoming promotion things and reviews of the last week of shows,” you explain, “plus Harry wants a new sofa bought for his LA home by the end of this week so I’m trying to do that while in a different country,” 

“A new sofa?” Clare asks, brows pulled together. 

“I don’t ask questions anymore,” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders just as your waiter returns then with everyone drinks. You’re thankful he brings a small plate with sugars and creams too, black coffee seriously sucked. After stirring your coffee, you take a long sip and hum contently. A nice little dinner in Stockholm was exactly what you needed after this long first week of tour. You thought after all these years touring and traveling along side Harry you’d be used to it, but you are already struggling it seems. 

The four of you girls are having fun chatting about the shows and the fans and all the places you’ve seen thus far. The three of them get a big more time to look around each city than you do - you’re always busy cleaning up Harry’s mess of alcoholic issues from city to city. Last night it was literally cleaning up the wine bottles from the dressing room before the flight left from Antwerp to Stockholm. Harry and the guys took advantage of the extra time at the arena to get drunk before the redeye flight. The night ended with you muttering things under your breath, Harry scowling, and you tossing red solo cups and empty bottles into the garbage as everyone else left. 

This morning you didn’t even bother to check up on him. Wether he drank himself to sleep again or somehow got another girl into his room in the middle of the night, you didn’t care. He was rude last night and you needed a day off before the show tomorrow.

“Is that Harry?” Helene questions, pointing her fork in the direction of the bar. You chew another bite of your meal and glance the way she’s gesturing to.

She’s right, of course she is. Harry’s leaning towards another blonde with long legs while seated at the bar. The blonde is loving the smirk Harry’s got across his face, throwing her head back with laughter at whatever he had said - you bet it wasn’t even that funny. You roll your eyes and set down your coffee after having a long sip.

“I’m not doing this again tonight,” you grit through your teeth, “if one of you pays for my meal I’ll transfer you some money later, I need to do my job it seems,” you sigh and get up from the table as all the girls wish you luck. This wasn’t about to be an easy one.

You approach the bar from behind Harry, glaring at the blonde as her dark eyes meet yours. She immediately stands up straight and widens her eyes, seems you’ve scared her a bit. This brings a smug look to your lips, just as Harry turns around to glance over his shoulder and see you. You decided you wanted to spice this one up a little, so you snake your hand across his should blades and bring yourself into Harry’s side which causes him to sit up a bit and look at you with confusion clear as day.

“Can’t leave you along for too long now can I, baby?” You ask, smirking while Harry’s eyes narrow as he catches onto your little plan. You glance back to the blonde, “he’s just too polite somedays, I swear, was he offering to pay for your drinks? What an angel he is,” you give her a tight smile.

“Something like that,” the Swedish accent is thick as the girl answers you.

“What? What was happening here, sweetie?” You fake gasp, fingers digging into Harry’s neck as you look his way. He’s got that lovely snarl ready to go. “Were you going to cheat on me? You dirty bastard, how dare you, I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you!” You whisper shout every word so it’s just heard by Harry and the blonde. Harry’s eyes somehow narrow even more into slits. But you can’t miss the tugging of his lips again, seems he’s entertained at least.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know-“

“It’s fine,” you snap back at her. “We’re leaving now,” you say to Harry while pulling him from the bar stool. Harry huffs, opening his mouth to protest but you’re quick to shut him up again. “Don’t you dare try and talk you’re way out of this,” you say dramatically, taking his hand and dragging him towards the doors back into the hotel lobby.

Harry lets out a low chuckle as the two of you get to the elevator, you lean over to push the button and wait. You glance his way and surprised by the fact he’s not scowling at you. Harry’s grinning, yeah it’s a weird sight to behold - he only really let out a grin while on stage cause he loved that bit of his job enough. Or when Anne was around, but never would he actually grin at you.

“What?” you question, eyes narrowed.

“M’starin’ to think,” he pauses as the elevator doors open and the both of you step inside, “that you’re acting out of jealousy, love,” he finishes with that same grin.

A loud laugh, right from your gut, erupts through the elevator. You hold your stomach, throwing your head back for good measure too. Finally you turn to look at Harry again and see he’s got that scowl back on thank goodness. You give him a smile, reaching over to touch his cheek giving it a quick tap before dropping your hand back to your side again.

“You’re a funny one, Harry Styles,” you say. The elevator doors open up at the floor both your rooms were on. “Now, order in some food and watch some shitty TV show, just don’t make my job harder please,” you breathe out.

“Is that what you’re doing?”

“That and ordering your new stupid sofa,” you answer.

“Mind if I, uh, join you?” Harry coughs, seeming to struggle with asking if he could hangout with you.

You chuckle under your breath, “yeah, sure, that way I don’t pick out a sofa and order it and then you decide you don’t like it and I have to return it and then order a new one all while on the other side of the world,” you ramble out.

“You’ve known me for years, I’m sure you would’ve made a great choice by yourself,” Harry says. 

You shrug, taking out your hotel room key and sliding it through till the door opens for the two of you to walk through. Immediately all you want to do it change back into the extra large tour sweater, some sleep shorts and get more comfortable. If it was acceptable, you would wear leggings and oversized sweaters everywhere - but you knew going to a restaurant meant you should wear a cute top and some jeans.

“Feel free to get comfortable, order some room service too but just know it will be charged on your card not mine,” you tell Harry while gathering your few items of clothing you were going to get changed into.

“M’kay,” Harry hums and you walk into the bathroom to get changed and use the toilet too. To be completely honest, you’re taking your time, even going to the length of brushing your hair since you had the time to. Harry could entertain himself, you heard the TV on already and then just as you’re opening the bathroom door you see he’s answering the door for the room service. First thing you notice is the bottle of red wine on the cart.

“Can’t go a day without something to drink now?” you question once the door is closed, rolling your eyes at Harry as he reaches for the wine first.

“Do you ever just relax and have a drink?” Harry asks, raising a brow while taking a seat on one side of the bed. Of course he sits on the side you would’ve liked.

“Yes,” you mumble. 

Harry seems to take that as his right to pour you as glass. It doesn’t surprise you when his is a bit more full than yours, giving him a look while taking the glass from his hands and having a seat on the other side of the bed. The TV has some weird local show on, looked like some crappy reality TV show but you didn’t have much time to care. You take a small sip of the wine and place the glass on the bedside table to your right. 

“Mind passing me my laptop, please,” 

Harry nods, swallowing a rather large sip of his wine before leaning over and grabbing your laptop that was sitting upon the other bedside table. You open it up and log in while Harry begins to eat and steak and chips he ordered for himself. Just as you open up some emails and the online order for the couch, you reach over and steal a chip. 

“Hey!” Harry shouts. You chuckle and chew it up with a smile. 

“Okay, you mentioned a dark fabric sofa but I think a white one would look much better with the interior design you have going back in your LA home,” you explain, clicking a few tabs open to show him the options you had found. 

“I like that one,” Harry comments, touching your screen with his dirty fingers as he leans over and looks at the sofas. 

“Me too,” you nod. 

It was an ‘older fashion’ compared to the other more modern ones you had chosen for him to pick from. It was sort of funny, you were thinking of ordering the matching chair to the sofa he had picked for your own apartment - too bad your current apartment was small and crowded and so not your favourite. It was about time you started looking for a new place actually. Suppose it would have to wait till after the tour. 

The two of you sit in your bed, chatting about how Harry felt the last few shows had went. You had noticed he was a bit more cheery with his fans, which was something you gave him praise for. Harry finishes the bottle of wine before you even get a second glass, it doesn’t entirely surprise you. But what does surprise you is how much you’re actually enjoying hanging out with Harry. 

“You know the fans are going to go nuts for Stockholm Syndrome tomorrow night,” you say. 

“Should I tease them a little bit? Say we’re goin’ to sing a different song, tell ‘em we forgot the cords,” Harry smiles. 

“Oh God, they’d lose their minds,” you chuckle and sit up again while adjusting the laptop in your lap. 

“They’d have my arse I think,” Harry says, bringing the last of his red wine to his stained lips, “maybe I’ll put the blame on you, point out where you’re standing so they attack you and not me,” 

“You’re fans adore me, they’d never believe your crap,” 

“You’re right,” Harry sighs, “they do really like you,” 

“They haven’t always,” 

“God, remember when that whole drama with you and I dating,” Harry laughs. 

You chuckle, “then there was literal magazine spreads about me seeing Zayn behind your back. God, every media outlet was running with some wild ideas, then I finally told the manager to suck it and tweeted about it all,” 

“You almost got fired,” Harry recalls. 

“And yet, here I am,” you say. Harry smiles too, nodding his head before finishing off his wine completely. 

“You’re welcome,” Harry smirks. “I went to Modest and told them if they fired you I’d be more of a public mess than usual,” 

“Oh, my drunk knight in shining Gucci,” you joke, causing the both of you to erupt into a fit of laughter. Harry’s holding his stomach with both hands, eyes crinkled tight as he howls away in laughter. You quite literally have to wipe away tears that formed at your eyes. It wasn’t really that funny, but it was most definitely one of those ‘i’m laughing harder cause you’re laughing harder’. And to be completely honest, you really liked Harry’s laugh. 

Once you two finally stop laughing, you continue to talk a bit more about the tour. You inform him how much the fans want Medicine and Anna to be released, Harry just kinda shrugs but has a smug look on his face as he leans back on the headboard of your hotel bed. After a few more moments, you start to realize Harry’s mumbling his responses a bit. Glancing over, you see his eyelids shut. 

“Harry, maybe it’s time you went to your room,” you say softly. 

“Yeah,” he hums. 

Harry reached into his left front pocket of his trousers first. Then into his right front pocket. You look away from your phone to see he’s got a frown on his face while lifting his hips and searching both his back pockets, pulling out his wallet to check it too. When he curses under his breath, you sigh and drop your phone onto your lap. 

“I don’t have my room key,” he states. 

“It’s too late, the front desk is closed already,” you exclaim, glancing at the red numbers reading it was well past midnight - seems time slipped by your two while you go chatting. 

“Uh-”

“Just stay here tonight, it’s fine,” you cut him off, sighing while getting out of the bed. You’re facing away from him, towards the open curtains of your room that shows the night lights of downtown Stockholm, and reach up to stretch out your back after being hunched over looking at your laptop so much. As a cool breeze hits the back of your thighs, you realize the sweater hiked up a bit more than you would’ve liked to - there was no doubt Harry was enjoying the little show he had gotten. You bring your arms back down quick and walk over to the bathroom. 

After you’re done brushing your teeth and washing your face of any makeup left from today, you stare at your reflection in the mirror for a moment while deep in thought. Harry actually wasn’t half bad tonight. Barely any rude comments and you managed to bring bad a smile anytime his bad attitude showed up. Now tonight you’d grab the small extra blanket and keep your distance while he slept beside you. Easy, right...

Suddenly there’s a knock on the bathroom door, followed by Harry, “are you almost done in there?” he asks, his voice surprisingly not bothered at all. You open the door and reveal him leaning against the frame, eyes flickering back up from the floor to meet your eyes. Queue the twist and turns in your stomach. 

“There’s an extra tooth brush in the drawer, I believe,” you say. 

“Okay, thanks,” Harry nods. You smile, walk passed him and get into bed.

Why were you so nervous all of a sudden? It was just Harry. Who was kinda your boss and was the biggest man whore you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. You let out a deep breath and bring the blankets up to your chin. Maybe if you got all comfy and tried to fall asleep before Harry got back to the bed it’d be easier to ignore the fact he was here all together. Or maybe you could actually act your age and not like some virgin school girl. 

Harry exits the bathroom, turning off the lights as he walks by so it’s just the lamp lit up now. Your stomach does another twist as the bed sinks under his weight after a few moments. Then the blanket is being yanked away, torn from your hands till it’s just barely over your torso. 

“Hey,” you grumble. 

“Don’t tell me you’re a bloody blanket hog,” Harry scolds. You roll your eyes and turn your head to look his way, seeing him snuggled right up under the blanket. 

“M’not a bloody blanket hog,” you state, “but you sure are,” you add under your breath. Harry lets out the blanket enough for you to cover up your body. 

“No, m’not,” Harry argues back. 

“Goodnight, Grumpy,” you mutter back, too tired to fight with him. Seems his bad attitude was back just in time. You turn your back to him and close your eyes, hearing the sound of him turning off the lamp. Harry turns in the bed, not touching you though, a handful of times before he’s letting out a soft chuckle. 

“What?” you question. You know he’s smirking or something, you just know it. 

“Just trying to remember the last time I shared a bed with a woman and hadn’t fucked her,” he exclaims. You roll your eyes, glancing at the clock quick to distract you from any other thoughts that popped into your head.

“Such a romantic,” you say. 

“Shut up,” Harry grunts. 

“Grumpy,” you mutter under your breath. 

Then you both go quiet again and thankfully it doesn’t take too much time before you’re fast asleep. But then you’re dreaming. Vividly actually. You’re in the dressing room, laying on the sofa with your eyes closed and at first you seem like you’re trying to sleep. But then your lips part, a small whimper falling from your throat and your fists gasp onto the first thing they can as the sensational feeling runs through your veins. Your fists find someones hair, thick and soft to your touch. You feel someones warm tongue between your slick folds, lapping at your wetness and flicking over your sensitive clit over and over again.

“Oh, God, yes,” you moan aloud, gripping at their hair some more as your body arches into their touch. 

“Not God, love, close though,” their deep voice vibrates against your sex. Your eyes spring open at the sound of his voice - Harry’s voice. Looking down you see it’s his brown curly locks in your hands and his face between your legs. His green eyes meet yours, lips curling up into a smirk before he dips back down to rapidly lap at your wetness again. 

He sure does know what he’s doing. Tongue moving quick till your body arches off the sofa again and your moans echo off the walls of the dressing room. It feels so good. Maybe even too good. Harry abruptly stokes a finger at your entrance. Not moving for a moment before his finger plunges into you, causing a high pitched gasp to fall from your lips. He’s not starting off gentle, he is slamming his finger into you right till the cool feel of his ring touches your skin. You’re almost blown away by his attention to your clit while fingering you. It’s bringing you closer and close to a release. 

“Keep going, please, please- Harry,” you beg with your eyes screwed shut. Your stomach bubbles before your legs begin to shudder, the wetness between them gets worse with your release. 

You’re body melts into the sofa after the orgasm stops. Then your eyes open open once again as you feel Harry move over top of you. His green ones are full of lust, lips in a smug look before his lips wrap around his finger that is slick with your cum. There’s no denying how fucking sexy it is though, the way he groans afterwards causes your stomach to flutter. 

“Always knew you’d taste so sweet,” Harry purrs before leaning down to latch his lips to yours. 

But just before he can kiss you, your eyes flutter open from the sunlight hitting them just right. You squint, bringing an arm up to block the morning sun, then just as your about to turn away you realize you can’t exactly. There’s a heavy arm draped over your waist, hand curled into your sweater so tight you really can’t move. Your eyes widen, unaware of when Harry had gotten so close during the night. 

“Holy fuck, your feet are freezing,” Harry utters suddenly. His voice hoarse as he’s just waking up. You then realize that his bare legs are against yours, your ankles tangled together. 

“Where did your damn trousers go?” you question a little more harsh than necessary. Harry rolls his eyes and brings his arm back to his side. 

“You’re not wearing any either,” he mutters. 

“Whatever,” you say. Just then, as you move your legs away from his, you realize how wet you are between your thighs. You swallow hard and are quick to jump out of the bed. “I’m showering,” you state before quickly making your way into the bathroom and swiftly closing the door behind you before Harry could utter another word. 

The water is hot, nearly burning your skin as you stand under the stream entirely too long. You’ve washed your hair and was just standing there now, thinking about the dream you had. The way his mouth felt against your sex, the warm breath from his nostrils while his tongue did magic you swore. If that was a dream, you couldn’t imagine what the real damn thing had you feeling like. You jerk as your own hand makes contact between your thighs. You can’t help it, the mere thought of your dream has you itching to be touched. Thankfully you know your body well, and there’s this one spot on your clit that if you have just a bit of pressure and rub circles frantically you...

Not any longer than a minute later and you’re coming undone. Your bud sensitive to your own touch so quickly that you have to slip your hand away before your knees buckle and you’re falling in the shower. Knowing you’re taking much too long, you quickly wash your body with your lavender soap and turn off the water before stepping out of the shower. 

You’ve got the white fluffy towel wrapped tightly around your body after you dried yourself off a bit. Staring into the steamed up mirror, you are shaking your head at yourself. There wasn’t going to be a real thing. Harry wasn’t ever going to touch you like that. And you shouldn’t be standing here wishing he would. 

“Shit,” you curse under your breath as you realize you had rushed into the bathroom so fast you didn’t grab any clean clothes. 

There was no way you were going to step back into your dirty clothes and defeating the whole purpose of you having a shower to begin with. So you took a deep breath, pushed back whatever stupid nerves you had about Harry being in your room still, and walked out of the bathroom. 

“Yeh really couldn’t shut the curtains-” Harry’s words get lost in his throat as he sits up in bed and sees you standing there in a towel. His eyes are wide for only a second before he’s smugness takes over. “Forget ya clothes, love?” he asks, in which you instantly roll your eyes at him. 

“No, I was going for a new look,” you joke, turning around to open your suitcase that’s sitting on top of the dresser. 

“Well,” Harry pauses, “I quite like the new look then,” 

You have the white t-shirt you’re planning to wear in your hands, clenching the fabric as you literally have to pause and inhale deeply while your thoughts go off again. Swallowing back the lump in your throat, you make sure you’re got underwear and a bra before reaching for some black jeans. You were running out of clothes already it seems, and you seriously hated doing laundry. 

“Get up, we’ve got to head to the arena soon and I’m starving,” you order before holding your towel with one hand and your clothes in the other. Harry’s eyes dart to the items in your hand, but you’re moving too fast into the bathroom again. 

You hope that Harry’s up and going as you finish getting ready, putting on some perfume just before you hear someone pounding on your hotel room door. Your brows furrow together in confusion. Who in the world could be knocking on your door this early in the morning? Well, besides someone from the crew but with such urgency? You open the bathroom door when you hear Harry answer the room door. 

“What the-”

“God, no, it’s not like that!” You shout immediately as you met Jeff’s narrowed eyes. 

“Please explain to me why he’s standing here in his underwear, and you’re getting out of the shower,” Jeff fumes at the both of you, stepping inside of your room to shut the hotel room door behind him for privacy. You see Harry roll his eyes then he steps back and walks away from the situation entirely. 

“We were just hanging out last night talking work stuff, it got late, and then Harry realized he lost his room key and the front desk was already closed for the night,” you explained, “he slept here, on the other side of the bed,” you add, peering back over your shoulder to see Harry jumping into his trousers. Harry’s gaze meets yours, eyebrows lifted as you tell Jeff a slight lie. 

“Right,” Jeff says. 

“It’s the truth, Jeff, don’t really care if you believe it or not,” Harry huffs and walks up towards the two of you. “I’m bloody starving, can we go eat now,”

Harry doesn’t wait for either of you two to answer, reaching for the door handle and ripping open the door to walk out of the room. Seems Grumpy was bad in full force this morning. You sigh, giving Jeff one last look, before grabbing your purse and room key from the small desk and walking out of your room with Jeff behind you. 

“Get his new room key before we leave for the arena,” Jeff says just as you two are approaching Grumpy who’s staring at his phone waiting for the elevator. 

“Yes, of course, had planned on it,” you mutter out. The three of you step into the elevator then as it arrives.

Harry looks up and catches your gaze. You’re tongue sticks out to quickly wet your slightly chapped lips - noting you have to stop into a close by shop and buy some chapstick. Maybe Harry needs some too. You can’t help as the thought crosses your mind and your eyes fall down to look at his lips. It only takes a second before they’re curling upwards just a bit into a smirk. You look back up and meet his gaze, glaring at him as he keeps the smug look upon his face. What was even happening between you two? All you did was share a bed last night and now you’re looking at his damn lips, ugh. 

⏤

“Wow that looks unreal,” you say in awe while looking at your phone screen. 

“I can’t even describe the big this crowd is, Y/N, like I can’t see the end of it,” your friend, Miles, tells you as he lifts his phone up again and shows you the sea of people in DC. You’re in utter awe of it all, jealous of your good friend as he gets to be such a part of history in this March for Our Lives back in DC. 

“I wish I was there,” you groan dramatically while bringing the phone close to your mouth. Miles chuckles, showing his face once more. “Also I seriously miss you,” you add with a smile. 

“I miss you too, you’ve been away for like way too long,” he says. 

“I know, and I won’t be back in LA till after Ireland and that’s in like a month,” you pout your lips. Miles mirrors your pout before his gaze switches to the crowd around him again. “You’re vlogging this right? Cause I need to see this footage,” you say. 

“Of course I am, this is going to make a great video with an even better message,” 

“All your vids have a great message, Miles,” you smile. 

“Thanks,” he grins before flipping the camera back around to the crowd as they start up another chant. You actually got chills, way over here in Germany.

“Y/N-” you turn at the sound of Harry’s voice, seeing him enter the dressing room. He’s still got an hour till showtime, which he’s spent with Jeff doing something you can’t exactly remember right now. Harry’s brows furrow at the sight of you FaceTiming someone. He walks up behind where you sat on the sofa and peers at the screen. “Is that DC?” he asks. 

“Yup,” you nod, watching him as he stares at the screen. 

“That’s unreal,” Harry breathes out, repeating the same words you had just said. 

“Miles, say hi to Harry,” you say to your friend. Miles stutters on a word before the camera is being flipped and you see his bright wide eyes. Sure, all your friends were aware that you worked for Harry Styles but that didn’t mean they were cool with the fact. Didn’t matter how much you bitched about his bad attitude, your friends were all swooning over him just like the rest of the world. 

“Harry, hey, wow, uh congratulations of the tour and the year you’ve had man,” Miles beams. He honestly looks so cute through the grainy phone, he’s got you smiling - while Harry’s straight faced and gives him one nod. 

“Thanks, and congrats on being apart of history,” Harry says. 

“Wow, thanks, yeah it’s great here,” Miles replies. 

Harry turns to look at you now, which makes you look his way too, “hang up your phone and let’s actually get to work,” he grumbles and walks off towards the three suits for tonight. 

“Sorry about that,” you say closer to the phone while rolling yours eyes. 

“It’s fine, cool actually,” Miles says.

“I have to go now, but keep filming and send me some footage later when you get the chance,” you smile. Miles says his goodbyes and you’re ending the call sadly before standing from the sofa. 

Harry’s scowling at the suits, shoving them around roughly and barely looking at them it seems. Or else he’d notice how great the red Givenchy suit with the black shirt with white embellishments on either side of the buttons really truly was. You had actually forgotten about it, it had been an option in Paris earlier this month but you were so in love with the sparkly YSL suit to even care. But now, this red suit was everything. 

“Miles your boyfriend?” Harry asks all of a sudden. 

Your head snaps up, looking at him with your brows pulled together. Harry only asks you maybe once a year if you were still single or not. But never had it sounded so... jealous? Or were you actually going crazy after that stupid sex dream. 

“Miles is my friend,” you answer, “what suit are you leaning towards?” you ask, clearing your throat. 

“Uh, the red one,” he says while grabbing the hanger off the rack. 

“Good, I like that one,” 

“Should I go for the white boots too?” Harry asks, his voice more soft than before. You smile and bend down to pick them up, admiring the Givenchy boots that weren’t even on the runway yet - cause that’s the power Harry has in the fashion world nowadays. You remember when his tour wardrobe consisted of black jeans and black t-shirts to match. “What’re yeh grinning at?” Harry asks, eyebrows furrowed while his own lips twitched upwards. 

“Just thinkin’ about your outfits for the Take Me Home tour. I wasn’t really around for wardrobe bits involving you, but I packed a lot of it up I remember,” you explain. 

“You weren’t really ‘round much back then, kinda hid out from the boys and I,” Harry states while he focuses on taking the suit off the hanger. You smile and take the metal wire from him as he hands it your way. 

“I’ve changed since then, was a bit more nervous, didn’t really understand all this stuff,” you admit. 

“And now you’re a boss at it all,” Harry says, smiling a little while unbuttoning the shirt he currently had on. 

“Someone has to tell your ass off,” 

Harry doesn’t respond or chuckle, which causes you to glance away from the wardrobe rack and to him. He’s staring at you, lips still tugging just slightly upwards, and he’s shirtless now. It’s a sight to behold really. The strange tattoos and the bit of chest hair he’s got. And his tummy, it’s actually kinda cute. But then there’s the v line and the trail of hair that makes your head all kinds of dizzy. You find yourself checking Harry out, snapping yourself out of it before he can make some snide comment. You’re rather surprised he’s not, and there’s no smirk on his lips either as you look at his face. He’s licking his lips, eyes roaming your body. Unlike your usual outfits, you’re dressing in your best pair of black jeans - showing off your ass of course, and a rather tight ‘March for Our Lives’ shirt because Sarah wanted the slightly bigger size and the small fit you fine. Overall, you weren’t going to downplay yourself cause you looked pretty good. 

“You’re the only person I’d let tell my ass off,” Harry states, eyes finding yours once more. You’re blushing, you have to be, while the palm of your hands are getting sweaty too. 

“What are you ever going to do without me?” you question, humming afterwards while giving Harry a smile. 

He chuckles, slipping his arms into the black Givenchy shirt. As he’s buttoning it up, you find your eyes trailing each movement and that’s your queue to walk away. You make your way to the sofa once more, grabbing your tea that you had forgotten about and taking a sip to find it’s cold. You frown at the styrofoam cup and huff while taking a seat on the sofa. 

While waiting for Harry to get ready, you sit there and overthink - as per usual. Ever since Stockholm things have been a little bit different between yourself and Harry. He’s been a bit more chirpy than usual. Happier maybe? But definitely still as Grumpy as ever. Like the shameless looking that had just taken place, there’s been more questionable things and motions happening. He’s let up his flirtatious side with you a little, but still giving you a bit of attitude after to make it less awkward you suppose. And the sex dreams, well of course those haven’t gone away. Just last night you dreamt of Harry fucking you in that hotel bed in Stockholm. The dirty thoughts cause you to shake your head just as Harry sits down next to you on the sofa. 

“Tell Lambert what suit I’m wearing?” Harry asks. 

“Yep,” you nod. 

“Gonna watch the show tonight or nap again?” Harry questions, leaning back into the sofa and throwing both his arms across the back of the sofa. 

“Did you want me to watch the show?” 

Harry keeps his lips tight, looking at the small coffee table before they flicker over to meet yours. There’s something different about his look, something a bit softer and more welcoming than other times. You give him a small smile and lean your head back against the sofa - to be honest, you could use a nap after last nights late night with the girls here in Germany. To sum it up, Clare could handle more beer than you thought she could but you could out drink them all. 

“I mean, I like having everyone out there supporting me,” Harry shrugs, “but if you need some sleep, just come see me off and watch Only Angel. I know it’s your favourite,” he says. 

“I’m really starting to love The Chain,”  you state.

“Then come back for The Chain,” Harry shrugs.

You smile, “have I ever told you how much my dad loves Fleetwood Mac? He wanted to marry Stevie for the longest time, even after he married my mom,” you say, chuckling afterwards at the memory.

“So you grew up listening to them?”

“Yup, and The Eagles a lot too,”

“Me too, my dad quite liked them both,” Harry states. You hum out in response, smiling at the fact you two were talking about someone other than work. Harry turns his head, matching how you were leaning back against the sofa. “Could you imagine, Stevie Nicks being your mum?” He says.

“She basically is your second mum!” You chuckle, reaching over to smack his arm lightly. “I’m still not over meeting her twice last year, she even remembered me the second time it was crazy,”

“Why wouldn’t she remember you?” Harry questions. You can feel there’s more he wants to say, it’s almost like you can see the wheels in his head moving as he licks his lips. Just then someone’s knocking on the door, Jeff opens it up and pops his head in. You make the move to get up first as you already knew it was close to show time. And Harry’s plan wasn’t so bad, you’d walk down to ‘stage right’ enjoy Only Angel and maybe Woman and then come back till the end of the show. 

“Hey,” you call out to Harry right before he’s stepping to the stairs to get on stage. He turns back around and meets your gaze. “Have fun out there, and keep up with the birthday thing they’re eating that right up,” you tell him with a smile. Harry mirrors your small smile and nods as you reach out and fix his suit jacket. “Break a leg,” you add before shooing him off. 

No one could wipe that grin off Harry’s face even if you tried. The moment Only Angel starts up, Harry’s prancing around the stage and hyping up the crowd like always. You can’t help but smile as you watch him, singing along yourself and swaying you hips to the beat - no matter how many times you watched this show, you’d always enjoy it. 

“He seems more cheery tonight,” Jeff says, leaning towards you in order to not completely shout over the music. 

“Yeah, I noticed that too,” you agree. 

“Look, I don’t know what you’re doing but keep doing it,” 

“I don’t know what I’m doing either,” you shrug. And it was the complete truth. Sure one night you two shared a bed, and things have been less snappy between you both since then, but otherwise you aren’t entirely sure it’s because of you that Harry’s been less of an ass lately. But hey, you’ll take the credit if it means you’re in Jeff’s good books again. 

⏤

Spain was hot. And you weren’t exactly feeling the best either, so the heat wasn’t doing you any good. You typically loved the summer time and the sun on your skin, it was nice. But not when you had this dumb flu that has been making your head pound and your nose run for the past 24 hours now. Through the years of touring with One Direction, you knew it was best to just lay in bed and sleep away the sickness. Too bad Harry had a different idea. 

“Get out of bed,” he grunts. 

“How the hell did you get into my room?” you ask, brows wound tight as you peer over your blanket to see him standing at the foot of your bed with his arms crossed. 

“Told the front desk I needed a key,” he shrugs. 

“Abusing your power I see,” you mumble before bringing the blanket back over your head in hopes Harry would get the idea and leave. But of course, he doesn’t. Instead he tugs on the blanket and you have to keep a death grip with both of your hands in order to keep yourself covered. “I’m only in a sports bra, prick,” you snarl at him. 

“Got no pants on, huh? Sleep naked when you’re not sharing a bed?” Harry questions you, smirking of course. 

“No, you idiot, I’m wearing shorts too,” 

“This is besides the point, get out of bed,” Harry orders you again. 

“No,” 

“Now, come on,” Harry tries again. 

“No, seriously, go away,” you bark at him. Harry tugs the blanket again and you really want to scream at him but you’re not feeling up to it honestly. You sigh and lay there on your back, not even caring about the fact Harry’s seeing you in your sports bra right now - it was like a bathing suit, right? 

“Funny,” Harry snorts, you turn your head and see him smiling, “the roles are reversed for once,” he states. 

“At least there’s not a strange man in my bed you have to deal with too,” you say, rolling your eyes while sitting up and throwing your legs over the side of the mattress till your feet hit the ground. Harry doesn’t respond, just chews at his bottom lip like he’s in thought or something. You sniffle and end up laying back down on the mattress while pouting. 

“Almost made it,” Harry sighs. 

“M’sick, what else can you expect from me?” 

“I expect that you’re willing to push through it since we’re all getting out of the hotel and doing something today,” Harry exclaims. You let out a long groan, rolling over to grab a tissue and blow your nose. “Cute,” Harry mumbles. 

“Shut up,” you say while sitting back up again. 

“Now look who’s the grumpy one,” Harry snickers. You roll your eyes and stand up, walking passed him to get to where your suitcase was laying open. Harry turns around, watching you as you’re trying to find something acceptable to wear out in this heat. 

“You,” you sigh, “you’re always going to be Grumpy,” 

“Meh, today’s been an alright day. Woke up earlier than I needed to, went down and got breakfast with Mitch and Adam, and then the others joined us and Jeff told me about this art museum here,” Harry explains his morning thus far to you. It’s honestly rather surprising, you couldn’t recall the last time Harry had been up before you and even had breakfast with any of the band. You furrow your brows and turn back around, leaning against the dresser while crossing your arms at your chest. He has taken a seat upon your unmade bed now, still watching you.

“You didn’t drink last night? Didn’t have any whores here in Barcelona?” You question him. 

Harry shakes his head, “only had some wine with Sarah and Mitch in their room, watched a rom com, and then went to sleep in my own bed,” 

“Are you becoming a changed man, Grumpy?” you tease. 

This earns you an eye roll from Harry right away. You only snicker under your breath and turn back around to grab the thin black tank top that you’d plan to wear with some high wasted jean shorts and some sneakers. Hopefully you wouldn’t die out in the heat with this outfit. 

“Okay, get out, I need to change,” you say, shooing at Harry but he doesn’t move an inch - only give you a bigger smirk than before. 

“What, no show today? Quite like the towel bit,” he jokes. 

“Yeah, you’re definitely not a changed man,” you mumble to yourself mostly. But Harry hears you and scowls. “Seriously, I’ll text whoever and meet you all downstairs,” 

“You know I have a key right, I’ll come right back in so don’t even think about layin’ back down,” 

“Yeah, speaking of, give me the room card,” you order him, flipping your hand palm up for him to give you the key. Harry only smirks again, digging into his front pocket and handing you the key. “I won’t go back to sleep, I might travel with a handful of tissues but you’ve got me up now, congrats,” 

“Grumpy,” Harry chuckles before walking out of your room finally.

Barcelona was beautiful. You had been here twice before while touring with One Direction actually, but had never really gotten the chance to look around the city itself. Now, as you stood outside under the sun and looked up at the art installation you were really glad Harry had gotten you up this morning. You sniffle some more, walking up beside Clare as you take in more of the museum. She’s telling you about the night she and Helene had last night, making sure she tells you a million times how much you were missed though. But you assure her you had a good night sleep. 

“Oh there’s some fans,” Clare says just above a whisper. You look up from the ground and see she’s right. There’s a handful of them all standing together waiting for Harry, who’s walking just in front of you with two bodyguards by his side. 

“Let’s hope this doesn’t go wrong and I don’t have to step in today,” you say. There’s been times when Harry’s bad attitude reflects horribly towards some awaiting fans and you literally have to step in and try to make the situation better. With your sickness, you really didn’t want to today. 

“Harry,” the fans thick accents can’t be missed while they grin at Harry. 

“Hi,” he says, giving them a smile. 

“Can I get a picture?” One asks, handing off her phone to another fan before Harry even gets to answer. And he doesn’t, he just stands beside her and gives the camera a thumbs up before giving her a quick goodbye and looking to the next fan. A girl wearing a jean jacket, how in this heat you don’t know, comes up to Harry next and asks for an autograph. It’s all really sweet, Harry’s not acting out or scowling at them, so you step by the whole ordeal and step back a few feet with one of the bodyguards while waiting for him. 

“Y/N?” Clare calls out. 

“You go on, I’ll wait,” you say, because you always did - mostly to be ready to do your job and do any damage control. The girls just nod and go on towards the awaiting van. 

“Can we do a group photo, I’ve just got people waiting now,” Harry says, pointing his thumb to where you stood off by Miller, Harry’s number one bodyguard through all these years you’ve known him. 

The fans all agreed and things went smoothly, they had grins upon their faces as they wave frantically when Harry begins to walk away from the group of them. Miller steps behind him, arm outreached to protect him in case any fans got any crazy ideas but thankfully none of them did and you stepped beside Harry easily while walking towards the van. You nudge him with your elbow, causing him to look your way instead of at the ground. 

“Good job, made that easy,” you noted. 

“I’ve been doing this for quite a while, Y/N, I know how to handle a few fans,” he says. You roll your eyes. 

“Somedays aren’t as easy as that was,” 

“Whatever,” 

“Whatever,” you mock him, stepping up into the van without giving him another look. Suppose it was your fault he was giving you attitude, maybe you just should’ve stayed quiet and kept your thoughts to yourself. 

The van ride is filled with everyone giving their opinion on what you had all just seen. You were keeping quiet, eyes shut as another headache started up. Although this day was pretty great and you loved everything you saw and learnt here in Barcelona, you just wanted to be back in your hotel room and get some more sleep even. So that’s what you did, upon arriving back to the hotel you gave everyone a quiet goodbye and excluded yourself from the group while making your way back to your room. 

Not even an hour later and there’s knocking at your door. You groan to yourself, hoping you don’t have to argue with Harry about how you’re not going out for whatever dinner they had planned tonight. You just couldn’t muster up the energy to be completely real. But when you open the door and reveal room service, your brows pull together. 

“I didn’t order anything,” you say. 

“This was ordered for you, ma’am,” she says, so you step back and let them push in the cart before she leave your room again. You’re rather confused, looking at the aray of things on the cart. Soup, chips, iced water, a bottle of Advil and a entire pot of tea. Then you notice the small note beside the tea pot. 

‘feel better love -Harry’ 

You are smiling so much your cheeks hurt, while your stomach is doing that familiar twisting thing it’s been doing a lot lately - every time because of Harry of course. This was so stupid of you. To feel this way about Harry. It was stupid and reckless and you couldn’t seem to do a thing about it cause he kept doing stupid things like this. He was talking to you more about personal things, about life and his feelings and it wasn’t helping you at all either. But you had to keep it professional, you had to step back and think for a minute. Did you really have feelings for Harry?

⏤

You had taken a moment, staring at the large table here at Osteria Francescana, and thought about where you were going to take a seat at this extravagant dinner with some people from Gucci. When Jeff told you you were joining him and Harry, you were a little shocked but then snapped into shape and got yourself ready. Wearing your trusty Balenciaga boots, some black high wasted wide legged Gucci pants, and a pink floral printed long sleeve shirt that wasn’t Gucci because you could only afford so much high fashion clothing items. With your hair pulled back into a tight bun, you were rather impressed with yourself for getting so glammed up in a hotel room. 

“Il tuo ristorante è molto carino,” you say to the owner who’s sitting at the head of the table. You decided that assuming Jeff wanted you here for your Italian, you take the free seat beside him and across from Harry. 

“Tu parli italiano?” he questions. 

“Sì, da quando ero un bambino,” you smile. You could thank your grandparents on your mothers side for the lessons in Italian. They were very clear from your infant days that they wanted you to know their mother tongue, so they taught you and it’s stuck ever since.

“Is she telling you all my dirty secrets?” Harry questions from where he sat, lips tugging into a smile as you meet his gaze. 

“I’m just letting him know how lovely this place is, and that I learnt Italian when I was young. From my grandparents,” you explain, saying the last bit while looking to the owner again. 

“Qual era il tuo nome di nuovo?” he asks, smiling at you. 

“Y/N,” you answer. 

“Ah, it’s so lovely to meet you my dear,” he says, switching back to English for everyone else’s sake you supposed. 

The dinner was going amazing, the staff was fantastic and the meal was probably the best you’ve ever had. Everything was great till Harry started to scowl across from you, unsure of why exactly. Someone must’ve said something to tick him off, or maybe he didn’t like the meal he was served. Regardless his bad attitude wasn’t about to ruin this. You kick out your foot and make contact with his shin, he screws up his face and glares at you. 

“Hey, m’wearing this suit tomorrow, don’t fuck it up,” he growls. You narrow your eyes at him for the harsh language in front of so many important people. 

“Outfit repeater, huh?” you tease him. Yeah, teasing wasn’t the way to go. Harry scowls at you, something you hadn’t seen in a while. You sink back into your seat, watching Harry across from you to try and figure out what’s got him so in his head. But then the waiter that’s been waiting on your table shows up again, leaning over you slightly to fill up your water cup. You smile, looking up to meet the sweet blue eyes of the rather cute Italian young man. 

“Nient'altro signora?” he asks softly. 

You’re blushing, you just know it, “no, I’m okay,” you reply. 

Once the waiter has moved on, you bring your water to your lips and look back across the table. Harry’s scowl hadn’t left his face, in fact it might’ve even gotten harder. You can’t help but roll your eyes at him. This dinner was amazing, incredible and a huge step for his career and yet all he can do it sit there downing his drinks and scowl at everything and everyone around him. Speaking of those drinks, Harry finishes off another glass of whatever liquor he’s been ordering - and of course he catches the waiter just in time to order another. 

“Hey,” you whisper shout to Harry as the owner was getting up, mentioning something about dessert in Italian under his breath. 

“What?” Harry grunts. 

“Slow down on the drinks, you’ve had like triple anyone else has,” you exclaim. Harry only glares at you. “Stop, I’m just doing my job-” 

“Well fuck off,” he grumbles, looking away from you and down at his phone screen. You blink a few times, thrown off by his attitude since it’s been a while since he’s been so bluntly rude to you. Taking a deep breath, you have another sip of water and look off down the table to see Jeff staring at you. He needs you to step up again, to get Harry to relax and quit drinking so much. 

But you can’t. No matter the amount of kicking of his shine or glaring you do, Harry ignores you scowls and drinks more and more. Finally when it’s time to leave you can tell he��s trying to get ahold of someone. You’re sitting in the seat behind him, reading briefly how he’s getting ahold of some Italian girl to warm his bed tonight. You lean back in your seat and stare out the window as it feels like someone’s punching you in the gut. This was why you shouldn’t have gotten inside of your own head this past little while, thinking all about how nice it would be if Harry maybe felt the same way you were - but after tonight and seeing him text some floozy, it’s obvious he could never. 

⏤

You were having a bad day. Since the moment you woke up, ignoring Jeff request to get Harry up, you haven’t been having the best of days. You had forgotten about doing laundry so all you had to wear were the same Gucci high waisted black pants from last night - which makes you feel hypocritical since you bugged Harry about being an outfit repeater. Plus all you could think about was how you managed to let your feelings get in the way of your work. 

So after eating something at catering with Clare and Helene, you ended up wandering the hallways. Jeff comes into view as you get close to backstage. He’s glaring, which makes you slightly nervous as you approach him. 

“Harry’s locked himself in the dressing room,” he states, “I don’t care if there’s a half naked lady or red wine staining those stupid Gucci pillows of his, get in there and get him going,” 

“Yeah,” you pause and nod, “okay, uh, yeah,” you mumble, turning around and slowly making your way towards the dressing room. You’re taking your time, nervous of what you’re about to get yourself into. Because you’re not entirely sure your heart can handle it after the past 24 hours. 

You’re pulling gently at the tour shirt you tucked into your pants. Kicking out your sneakers against the pavement floors up till you get to the looming door to the dressing room. Maybe you could just pound on the door, yell something and then run away like a little baby. You roll your eyes at yourself and lift your fist up to knock on the door. It was time to act your age, push away any and all feelings for Harry, and do your damn job. 

“Harry,” you say loudly with your face right up by the door. He doesn’t answer. “Harry, open the door,” you try again. 

You sigh in defeat. This was ridiculous, the show started in less than two hours and you knew he wouldn’t be getting ready in there by himself. He was probably getting drunk, or maybe he wasn’t alone at all and had found himself some hot blonde who worked at the arena. You find yourself frowning at the thought. You sigh again before bringing your fist to the door and knocking. 

“Grumpy, hello, open up,” you groan, growing rather tired of this already. 

Again no answer. You press your ear to the door, hesitate at first because if he really did find someone who worked here to have a quick fuck you weren’t going to like hearing that at all. But there’s nothing. It’s like he’s not even in there. You take a deep breath and reach for the handle, maybe Harry had left since Jeff checked up on him. But of course you’re wrong as you jiggle the knob and it doesn’t open. 

“Harry, seriously!” You shout this time, not caring about the few looks you get from crew members passing by. 

Then without any warning, the dressing room door opens and you’re being pulled into the room by Harry’s large hands. His one hand stays glued to your arm while the other shuts the door behind the both of you, he pushes you back till your back hits the door. You furrow your brows and stare up at Harry, meeting his wild green eyes. There’s barely a breath from either of you before he’s leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours. 

The kiss brings a warmth over your entire body. You feel like your chest is going to explode from the feeling you get. It only takes you maybe half a second before your brain kicks in and both your hands are tangled up in Harry’s hair while your lips move with his. Harry’s lips are hot against yours but it felt too good to stop. Next thing you know his teeth graze your bottom lip, causing you to open your mouth and let him slip his tongue in. Your getting dizzy now, grasping onto his shoulder hard while his hands feel cold against your warn skin, having made their back under your skirt and drawing up and down your back. You’re so in the moment, enjoying this way too much, but then it hits you. 

“Harry,” you breath out his name, pushing back his shoulder just a bit so his lips move further away from yours. “We shouldn’t,” you add in a low voice. 

“No, we shouldn’t,” Harry agrees, his words hot on your skin. But then he’s moving back towards your face again and your stomach is doing those god damn twists and turns. You practically melt into him as his hand firmly presses your hips into his, leaving your head to lean back into the door again as he kisses you. 

Harry’s hand lifts up to your jaw, thumb resting gently on your chin as he tips your head further upwards while he puts every bit of energy he must have into this kiss. You have never been kissed like this. Such urgency and desire, all while his touch makes you feel light inside. You breath out deeply through your nose, running a hand from his temple all the way through his hair. He’s massaging your hip when you finally snap out of the exhilarating kiss.

You move so quickly, pushing away his arms and stepping into the middle of the dressing room. It takes you a moment to catch your breath, your hand absentmindedly moving to your lips to just graze over them - they felt like they were vibrating. A million thoughts are running through your mind, the biggest one being what the hell just happened... 

“Last night, you - you slept with some whore and now you think you can just come onto me like this?” you bellowed. You had hoped your voice came out sounding less weak than you were feeling right about now. 

“I didn’t sleep with anyone last night,” Harry states. His voice sounding closer while you hear his boots smacking against the floor, softening as they meet the carpet you’re currently standing on.

“What the hell, Harry?” you hiss, turning on your heels to see he’s only an arms reach away. 

He looks as bewildered as you felt. His hair flipped to the left, a large piece falling over his forehead while the rest all stuck out funny. But of course he made it work. Those stupid green eyes are soft, there’s no scowl or glare or anything like you were so used to. You swallow back the lump in your throat and lick your lips as your eyes fall down to his - why did you want to feel them against yours again so desperately? 

“You were acting out last night, you were a proper asshole to me last night,” you say. 

“Last night,” Harry begins, his voice louder now, “it all fucking hit me like a damn truck, Y/N. You were flirting with that waiter right in front of me and speaking Italian to him and I got fucking jealous,” 

You’re chewing on your bottom lip as you take in each word Harry had just said. He was jealous. He was jealous over you. And now he kissed you. Harry kissed you. You blink rapidly at him as your brain was an utter mess. Then your gaze meets the floor as you try to think of what you’re going to say next.

“M’sorry,” Harry sighs. Your head snaps back up to meet his stare. “For being such an ass last night, and for kissing you like that. That wasn’t fair of me,” 

You open your mouth, ready to tell Harry that it was okay. Because you wanted that kiss, regardless how many times you tried to tell yourself you didn’t. But then your cell phone is going off in the pocket of your pants. It’s almost as though the sound brings you both out of some trans, Harry clears his throat and shifts on his feet while you take the phone out of your pocket. It’s Jeff. 

“Hey,” you answer. 

“Is he alive? What the hell is going on?” Jeff questions you. 

“Yeah, he’s fine,” 

Harry looks back to you as he grasps the fact you’re talking about him. He’s taken a seat on the arm of the sofa, staring at you as you listened to Jeff order you to get him ready - time was ticking before the show here in Bologna, Italy was to start. You give Jeff short answers while pointing Harry to the wardrobe rack. Harry rolls his lips into his mouth, waiting a moment before reluctantly walking over to the pink suit hanging up for him. 

“Yeah, 20 minutes, I got it,” you nod. 

“Thanks for getting to him, Y/N. Don’t know where we’d be without you,” 

“Uh, without a main act I’d assume,” you joke, chuckling under your breath. 

“Wouldn’t that be fun,” Jeff chuckles a lot more light heartedly than you. You hear him talking to someone else before he’s quickly saying goodbye and hanging up the phone. Taking the phone away from your ear, you look towards Harry and run a hand through your own hair at the sight of his. 

“20 minutes, please don’t lock yourself in here again,” you say. Harry holds your gaze and you swear you feel your heart ache in your chest. Once he gives you a nod, you turn on your heels and leave the room. There was no way you could just sit in there and hangout till he was ready. 

You don’t see off Harry before he walks on stage. But you do stand by Jeff like you always do, watching Harry before the screen rises up. His eyes are glued to the floor, not seeming to even realize when the fans start to lose their minds and scream for him as he’s revealed from behind the scene. You have your arms crossed at your chest, your head feeling like it’s about to explode from everything that had just happened in the past bit, maybe you should go back and take a nap.

“I’m heading backstage,” you tell Jeff. He nods to you and then you’re walking away from the stage to go lay down in the dressing room. 

No amount of rest could prepare you for the call you take as you sit on the sofa. It’s quiet in the room, no one else is around, all you can hear is the faint sound of Harry’s songs. As you have your phone pressed to your ear, you’re no longer thinking about the kiss or your feelings towards Harry at all. All you can think about is you needed to get on the next flight back home. 

⏤

“She left?” Harry questions Jeff as they walk backstage to the dressing room. He had immediately noticed your absence and asked Jeff where you had gone. He expected maybe you were having a little nap before the show was over. But he wasn’t expecting to hear you had gotten on a plane and left him behind. 

“Yes, she’s on her way back to the US right now,” Jeff states. 

Harry’s eyebrows pull together as he lets his thoughts overwhelm his head. He had done this. He had to go and kiss her like that and now she had run away from him. This was all his fault. How stupid could he be? You worked for him, you kicked woman from his hotel room too many times, why did he think you could possibly feel the same way he did about you..

Harry keeps quiet the whole ride to the private jet that’s waiting for him and the band. He takes a seat, staring at the empty one in front of him before he pulls out his phone. Harry stares at the screen, thinking of what he’d even say to you. Maybe he could just say sorry a bunch of times till you got annoyed and came back. He sighs and leans back in the seat as he hears the jets start up. 

“Sir, please turn your phone off,” the flight attendant asks, bending close towards him. Typically Harry would shamelessly check the young woman out. But not tonight. Right now, Harry’s itching for a drink.

“Bring me somethin’ to drink, somethin’ hard,” he orders her in a harsh voice. 

part 2 >>

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #yeah this is a lot #but i hope you guys all enjoyed it #ive already been working on a part 2 #i kinda just wanna make this a 3 part mini series #i cant promise the other parts will be as long as this one lol #but ill try #pls give me feedback though #its always lovely to get #also im sure this isnt perfect cause i read over it so much i think my brain like ignored some spelling things lol #i had to edit the like cuts or whatever cause mobile tumblr SUCKS

[alhecksanderlightwood]

a prompt for a fellow writer friend: sure, it was an unspoken truth amongst jericho that markus and connor were a Thing, but it was just a rumour for the rest of the human world, cause they tried to keep it under wraps for politics. what makes them break their cover in public?

Thanks for the prompt ! I got carried away again I shall find a way to stop doing that at one point.

Joshcame in Simon’s office at 5pm sharp, the sky was already darkenedand the light emanating from the small lamp on the desk wasflickering. They really needed to do something about the electricitybut the humans kept pushing back against their requests for somerepairs, saying that the electricity was a problem all throughoutDetroit and androids didn’t need it as much as humans did. Whichwas… Infuriating to say the least.

“Simon,did you hear back from the Mayor about the details for the ceremonytonight ?”

Theandroid looked up from his tablet (why he insisted on carrying thataround when he was basically a computer was still lost on Josh) andmade a dismissive gesture with his hand.

“Hesaid we need to be there at 7, the ceremony won’t start for anotherhour but the press needs to see us mingling with humans.”

“Yeah,wouldn’t want them to start thinking we suddenly want to overthrowthem, right ?”

“Pleasedon’t say that in front of North, she might actually get some ideasand we finally managed to make her settle down a little.”

Asif North would ever settle down, she was still as fiery as ever andwhile she kept a perfectly neutral and polite face talking topoliticians, they all heard what she really thought of them throughtheir internal communication network.

Someoneknocked on the door and they turned to find a Jerry standing on thethreshold

“Guys,North asked for your help finding Markus, he was supposed to be backthirty minutes ago”

Normallyany androids could go to these kind of ceremony, but this night was abig night so the Mayor himself requested the leaders of Jericho to bethere,  which might be a problem if Robot Jesus himself was stillunaccounted for.

Simonsighed while standing up:

“10bucks he’s somewhere kissing Connor”

……………………

Markuswasn’t actually somewhere kissing Connor.

Hewas in his bed, cuddling Connor.

Hisboyfriend got into the habit of coming to him whenever he was dealingwith too much stress. Something that delighted the Rk200 who alwayswanted to be there for the people he cared about. And a few hoursago, Markus opened his door to find a rather panicked Connor on hisdoorstep, led alternating between yellow and red almost too fast tocatch it.

Therewas a case, a guy killing androids and Connor spent his last weektracking him down. Markus knew about it, of course, but apparentlysomething new happened. The darker skinned android opened the doorfor the other to come in and sat on his bed, patting the place nextto him.

“Wegot him”

Connor’svoice had cracked when he said that and Markus knew better than toactually congratulate him now so he just waited patiently for theother to continue, his fingers slowly finding their way to the otherman’s hands, rubbing gently on his knuckles.

“Wegot him but not before so many androids died and I know we couldn’thave been faster but maybe we still should and” Connor took a shakybreath and Markus wanted nothing more than to hug him and never lethim go. He settled on moving his hand to run through disheveled curlyhair.

“Oneo-, one of the bodies there, it was a kid model” Connor finallylooks over at the deviant leader, clearing his throat “It lookedjust like Alice”.

Connoris crying now and Markus can’t hold back anymore, he opens his armsand let Connor curls into him. The second he’s in his arms he hugshim close and whispers reassurances.

Heknows the detective is blaming himself, not only for those androidshe couldn’t save but also for all the ones he hunted before hedeviated, he interfaced with him enough to know how the other androidworked. He also knows convincing him to let go of that guilt willtake a long time so he settle on being there, comforting him andtracing shapeless figures on Connor’s back with his fingers. Simplylistening to the other’s breathing slowing down from erraticbreaths to sleepy ones.

Connoris sleeping peacefully on Markus’ chest now, arms tucked close tohis chest and Markus arms wrapped around him protectively.  

Thedeviant leader tries to enjoy this for as long as he can, blinkingaway the notifications telling him about his friends searching forhim. He’d rather focus on the bundle of warmth in his arms. Connorlooks so peaceful like this and it makes Markus heart squeeze almostpainfully.

TheRk800 shifts a little, starting to wake up and nuzzling closer toMarkus, as if trying to burrow himself in him.

Whenhe opens his eyes, there’s no trace of distress anymore, only pureadoration and Markus doesn’t feel worthy of such a look but damn ifhe’s not going to try everyday for the rest of his life to actuallybe.

Theadoration quickly turns to something way less innocent as Markusfeels a hand moving along his thigh and Connor’s smile turnscheeky. And to think that Simon is so adamant that Connor looks justlike a puppy.

Theywaste no time kissing each other, nipping at the other’s lips untilConnor trails kisses along Markus jaw-And then the door opens.

Joshis behind it and he’s closing his eyes, a hand thrown over them forgood measure (and to add more drama, if he was being totally honest)

“IKNEW YOU WOULD BE KISSING GODDAMNIT MARKUS WE HAVE TO GET READY,LEAVE YOUR BOYFRIEND ALONE”

Hisscreams alert North and Simon and soon enough, two new heads arepeeking from behind Josh now.

Godsometimes Markus hated his friends. He felt more than heard Connorchuckles. His mouth was still so close to his neck and god, he wantedto hear that sound again but if he could hear him scream in pleasurebefore that it would be perfect.

Althoughhe didn’t get time to think more about it because North wasforcefully dragging him out of bed and towards his dressing whileConnor was just smiling, sitting cross-legged in his bed. It wasn’teven any kind of smile, it was the small secretive one, Markus lovedthat one.

Thedetective tilted his head to the side, trying to keep up with Northfire like movements as she tried to get Markus out of his clothes andinto more fitting ones and Markus wanted nothing more than to turnaround and go back to bed because Holy shit, he actually did looklike a puppy.

Butno sooner had he thought that that Connor was out of bed and talkingwith Josh and Simon, probably apologizing for jeopardizing thedeviant leader.

Markusfocused on North for the next few minutes and when he looked up,Connor was gone.

“Calmdown lover boy, you’ll see him tonight so just focus on North,she’s actually being useful right now.”

Markussmiled and did just that.

…..

Theparty was boring, everyone was drunk in a few hours and the androidswere left trying to navigate a sea of intoxicated humans. A bad idea,really. While some were embarrassing, otherwere just plain offensive or seemed to had forgotten all concepts ofpersonal space.

Likethis woman, trying to grope his boyfriend in front of him.

Granted,the only humans knowing Connor was his boyfriend were Hank and Carland maybe some people from the police station. But still.

Markuswaited for a lull in the conversation (which was just an excuse toactually grope his fucking boyfriend) so he could squeeze himselfbetween Connor and the lady, whisking him away.

Theysoon found themselves watching everybody from a dark corner of theroom, laughing like the teenagers they never had the chance to be.Their network connection to the other androids meant that they gotinto their new favourite game “What are these old fucks reallysaying”, basically they chose some humans and created the worstkind of discussion they could be having.

Afterone particularly good and funny rendering of what conversation thetwo old men who alternated between trying to fight each other andthen seemingly being best friends all over again might be having,Connor turned his head and looked at Markus.

Hewas laughing, his hands were covering his mouth and he was hunchedover, trying to stiffle his laughs while keeping his balance and Ra9,this man was so pretty.

Beforehe could even think about it Connor had taken Markus hands away fromhis face so he could kiss him, an innocent peck, in a dark corner ofthe room, nothing to worry about, really.

Exceptit was the exact moment the electrician apparently chose to actuallyfix the power in the human’s part of the city. And the already litroom apparently had a few more lights that weren’t turned onbecause of the electricity problem. Of course one of them would bejust on top of them, which means that when the power came back on,they were in plain view. And of course, everyone turned to look atthe lights turning on.

Great.

BeforeConnor could panic, not liking to be the centre of attentionMarkusalready had their fingers interlaced and they interfaced withoutthinking.

Itwasn’t like either one of them was ashamed of the other or afraidof everyone knowing they were together, it just never came up. Butit sure did now.

Thesilence stretched on for a few more seconds, beginning to feel reallyuncomfortable when Josh planted himself between them and the sea ofhumans gaping at them.

“So,now that the humans apparently have their power back on at fulllevel, can we talk about fixing the electricity in the android’sneighbourhoods ?”Please guys send me more prompts, I’m craving them, my babies are crying asking me to feed them prompts, if I don’t they might actually start trying to eat me and I always skipped PE so I’m in no shope to actually defend myself from babies, please, I beg of you kind sirs, I will be forever in debt of you

#answered #my rk1000 fic #rk1000 #rk1k #conkus #detroit become human #detroit: bh #detroit connor #detroit markus #send me prompts

[redheadshenanigans]

Raised: A Castiel story

Castiel is fighting to get to Dean Winchester, he has been ordered by God. Nothing will stop him but Hell is vast and desolate and he is running out of time. Then a voice calls to him, someone who knows the way, someone who knows Dean very well...

Can Castiel save Dean? Will he want to be saved?

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: blood/violence 

Cast: Dean, Cas, John. W

The angels had been fighting for days, the demons kept coming, it was relentless. Castiel was leading the charge, injured and exhausted. The surprise attack should have neutralized this, however, they had underestimated the protection the target had. Dean Winchester was a prize and Hell was unwilling to relinquish him. Failure was not an option and Cas kept pushing his people. It was a sustained barrage of blood and pain but they were close now, so close and they had to keep going. Their numbers had halved since they had entered Hell and if they didn’t get Dean soon Castiel knew they would have to withdraw.

Again, this was not an option. Castiel wasn’t the most impressive of angels, not the biggest or strongest but he was a loyal soldier and when tasked with something important he was focused, determined. He had been tasked with raising Dean Winchester’s soul from Hell and he would succeed.

The next day Urial got word of an opening in the rear flank, that was his cue. Castiel broke from his brethren and hurtled through it. The demon Alastair had Dean in the cells so Cas made his way there at light speed. Once he was past the main defences he slowed down and looked harder.

Travelling through the filth and fire he wished for a vessel, something to keep all the muck from his light but the thought was fleeting, he knew this was the only way. A vessel would only slow him down. Spiralling through the torture chambers looking for one soul was like finding a needle in a needle stack and Cas was running out of time.

Enough passed to make the angel nervous, he was alone in the bowels of the most hostile place ever created with no kin at his back. Turning the last corner in this series of dungeons, if they could be called that, Cas heard someone calling. It was faint at first, but a soul was calling his name, he almost ignored the plea, almost. It was such a strange thing that he allowed himself to be distracted but he eventually followed it to a small dark cell.

The room was like most things in hell, flexible depending on the mind it housed and this mind was human. Cas toned down his light but knew the soul wouldn’t be harmed by him no matter how bright. The human was ragged and broken. Castiel wanted the man to remain calm and allowed the human's mind to take his light and shape it into a form that he could understand. The mirage that he became was stocky, yet slim with dark hair. Castiel admired the human’s choice for a moment, it was interesting. The long coat he wore swung as he moved. The projection was detailed which was surprising considering the state of the soul.

“Who are you?” The human shuffled back, terrified.

Castiel paused letting the man adjust and reached out with his light to take the edge from his suffering. This soul wasn’t supposed to be here, he knew that and it hurt him.

“You called me, human.” Castiel said gently, “You knew my name.” "I didn't..." The human stopped, taking a long look at the angel.

“You’re that guy, the one at the diner in Jefferson City.” He paused, rising from the wall. “We drank coffee and talked about our kids…Claire, I think you said?”

Castiel moved closer to the man, “What is your name?”

“John, John Winchester.”

Castiel took a step back.

“You are Dean Winchester’s father?”

“Yes, how did you…” John baulked, “You're not that Sales guy from the radio are you?”

Cas looked at the image he was holding, “No, this is an image from your mind. I assume you liked this man or found him...non-threatening?”

John took a second and nodded, “He was a little too focused on Jesus for me but you talk to whoever you can on the road. He’d been for some conference or something…”

“It is irrelevant. My name is Castiel, I am an Angel of the Lord and I am here to remove your son Dean from this place.”

“Dean’s here?” John cursed, sorrow filling his voice. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“John, I am running out of time.”

Winchester senior looked at the angel.

“Alistar has him doesn’t he?” Pain tore at his features.

“Do you know where he would take him?”

As the thought came Cas knew, he could see the place as John did, he could see it written all over the soul before him.

“I must go.” With that, he turned to leave but John grabbed his shoulder.

“Please, please find my son and if you get him back home…take care of him…and Sammy”

All the angels knew of Samuel Winchester and he couldn’t promise the father too much. The future of the Winchester men was going to be long and hard, however, he could promise one thing.

“I will watch over Dean on earth and do my best for them both.”

“Thank you, Castiel was it?”

He nodded.

“You remind me of him.” John added, and Cas looked confused, “Novack, that was his name…the guy you’re wearing. Good guy.”

“I am sorry, you do not deserve to be here but…”

“I made my bed, angel. Go get my boy.”

On that note Castiel fled, moving like the wind through the fiery tunnels towards the rack room. Castiel shuddered, he hated torture and dread filled him at what he may find on his quest.

Spaces were strange here, nothing moved like it did in reality. The rack room was endless and finite, it made no sense but nothing here really did.

On entering Castiel was taken back, Dean Winchester was pushing steel, no they were bone pins into a soul. It was a ragged, broken mess strapped to a table. Castiel recoiled as Dean stabbed the soul with stripped parts of itself and worse he looked exalted with every thrust. This was the soul he’d been sent to save? This broken, hateful damaged thing? Unsure he called its name and the human turned. Castiel pulled on the previous image he’d taken, the father had liked it so maybe the son would as well?

“Who? What are you?” Dean growled out.

“I am Castiel an Angel of the Lord and I am here to return you to earth.”

The soul did something completely unexpected and turned back to its task. Most wanted to be saved but this one, this one felt he deserved to be here; radiated it.

It was irrelevant of course, what the soul chose because Dean Winchester must be raised, God had commanded it.

“Dean, you must come now or I will have to force you and that will be…painful.” Cas knew it was an understatement, it would feel like being torn in two. Dean had to want to be saved and Castiel didn’t have time to pander to him, but maybe he could convince him?

“Your father seems to think you deserved to be redeemed.”

“Don’t you talk about him,” Dean growled and the noise was an irritation to Castiel, almost painful.

“I spoke to him only moments ago and he asked me to raise you, certain that you shouldn’t be here. His soul felt of nothing but love and reverence for his son’s, for you…he wished for you to return to Samuel.”

“Sammy…” Dean blinked back tears, "...he doesn't like Samuel." Castiel dared to hope. Dean was showing an emotion other than self-loathing.

Castiel acted swiftly and touched the damaged man, shudders and nausea rolled through him and he questioned the wisdom of putting something this broken back on earth; it wouldn’t last long in its current condition. It could become a Demon, or worse and that wasn't acceptable.

Tears slid down the soul’s face and it crashed to its knees. The pure touch of Castiel’s light shredded away the awful cloud of pain and hate for just a moment but it was enough for the angel to get a grip on him.

Soul’s appeared as light and shadow to Cas, like a human shape but with no details. This soul projected it’s human vessel so clearly that Castiel had to squint to see through the mirage. The soul was more dark than light but the shadows looked recent, corrupted here in hell, not on earth. Cas was now positive he had the right soul, but the seal had surely been broken. Regardless, God had willed it raised and he would do as commanded.

The angel knew it couldn’t return this Winchester to earth in this condition.

“Dean, I need to undo some of what has been done.”

The man looked up with large eyes as tears fell into the murky ground.

As Castiel considered whether it could even be done it hit him like a wall of knowledge and he knew in that instant it could. Amazed, he didn't know how as it was not an angels power but he just knew that now he had the ability that he needed. “I have to repair some of your soul, we don’t have much time and so… it will hurt.” As he warned Dean he knew that

Dean nodded, and the angel moved, grasping the left shoulder with his hand. Dean screamed as Cas’s light invaded him searing an imprint into the man’s atoms. Castiel screamed as he tore parts of himself away to fix the broken soul. The angel poured through the dark spaces and filled them out with light. No-one could know what Castiel was doing, if Dean ever fulfilled his role as Michael’s sword... the human would have more power than he should and Michael may realise. Castiel felt the shudder through his whole being, he could be cast out or worse. The light would fade but from here onwards, Dean Winchester would be part of him and Castiel would feel Dean throughout his human life. They were bound. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make. Little did he know how much of the human soul he was exposing himself too and as he bound Dean back together he bound himself to this fragile soul forever.

Once he was done, Cas raised Dean from that unholy place and forced him back into his vessel. The scars from the cleansing left a physical mark on the man's arm, a symbol that echoed its eternal counterpart on Dean's soul. Even if the mark was removed from his skin, the tissue would remember, the soul would still be marked.

The body required healing and he added some walls to the humans’ psyche, protecting him from his memories and the emotions until he could manage them. Dean wouldn’t remember him. The trauma from the rising would be too much but he would always seek him now, be drawn to him. It would fade as long as Cas kept his distance and he would, he promised himself. However, he would also keep his promise to the older Winchester and watch over Dean, from now until time ended, Dean Winchester would have an angel watching over him.

Fin-

All rights reserved

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15187526

#castiel #destiel fanfic #superntural #snp #dean winchester #destiel #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #supernatural headcanon #supernatural hell #supernatural soul mates #destiel fandom #supernatural ao3 #ao3 #what happened in hell #destiel origin #raised you from perdition #raised you from hell #angel watching over you #deancas #john winchester #castiel in hell #dean in hell

[argylemikewheeler]

Byler prompt: Mike and Richie are twins and for some reason Will is dating Richie but actually loves Mike and one day Mike (who also likes Will) pulls the Phoebe/Ursula trick and pretends to be Richie and Will just, comes and kisses him but then Mike feels guilty and stops only to have Will confess that he knew it was him and he and Richie had broken up weeks ago and it's all very fluffy and beautiful

The idea started when their mother mistook Mike for Richie as she rushed Holly off to daycare. Mike was standing at the table, getting his books together for school, when she kissed him on the cheek and said that she loved him, ending with the name of his twin brother instead of his own. The two of them were so different in terms of personality, Mike never considered ways in which he could physically pass for his brother. He didn’t think there would ever be a reason to do so until Will and Richie started becoming unbearable.

They were sweet, holding hands and always having quiet conversations when the group was together, but it always bothered him. Will had been his friend since kindergarten, not Richie’s. Richie only started hanging out with them the minute Will got a better haircut and finally hit a growth spurt in the eleventh grade. Richie thought with a different head entirely while Mike thought Will was always beautiful. He didn’t want to feel jealous or entitled, but whenever Richie talked about “his Will”, something in Mike wanted to fight back. So he did it in the only slimy, behind-his-back way he knew how; if he was going to pretend to be Richie, he’d have to start thinking like Richie.

He started planning it a week in advance; he slowly loosened the arms of Richie’s glasses making them sit wonky on his face and slowly pushing him towards wearing his contacts more frequently and leaving his glasses on his nightstand. Mike also introduced Richie to the addictive nature of the local arcade, encouraging him to go by leaving quarters on his dresser and placing them under seat cushions to “discover”. By Saturday afternoon, Richie was already in the arcade, squinting through his contacts at the flashing lights of the new pinball machine. Richie was away and Will was supposed to be over to meet him– but Richie was so focused on a high score it apparently slipped his mind completely. That and Mike might have convinced his brother it was Friday, making Will’s date “tomorrow”. Either way, Will was on his way to their house and Mike was busy tightening his brother’s glasses to sit correctly on his face.

“Jesus, Richie. You are fucking blind.” Mike muttered to himself, having to peer under the lenses to properly gauge how close everything was. The coke-bottle glasses were a massive oversight, literally, but Mike was committed. He already had Richie’s old clothes on and the glasses perched on his nose; answering the door with a smirk would complete the look and convince anyone. The doorbell rang as Mike stumbled down the stairs. “Coming! I’m coming!”

“That’s what you always say!” Will yelled back behind the door. Ew. Gross.

“Shut up and get in the house.” Mike said, yanking the door open. Will laughed and Mike figured he was getting things mostly correct. One sentence in and he was already perfect. It paid to be observant and hopelessly in love. “So what’s up, Will?”

“Nothing much. Just finished that thing with Jonathan I was telling you about.” Will said, shouldering his jacket off. Oh shit. Fuck fuck fuck.

“You tell me about a lot of things, Will. Remind me.” Mike said, taking Will’s coat from him and hanging it on the rack by the door.

“His photo collage? I told you like, three weeks ago!” Will exclaimed, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“Oh, well, I really don’t remember it,” Mike said, trying to cover his ass. “But I’ll trust you.”

Will’s eyes stayed focused on Mike’s, trying to see them behind the thick fog in front of them. He looked away quickly. “Oh, well, I just had to help develop the photos. It took forever.”

“Taking up all of my time with you.” Mike said, knowing how quickly and disgusting sweet Richie got with Will. Actually, the fact he hadn’t said anything before Will got his coat off was probably a red flag. “He’s had you long enough.”

“I know. I know.” Will said, walking from the foyer to the kitchen. “So what is going on with you? You seem dressed up today.”

“What?” Mike said. Richie had literally worn the outfit on his body a week ago. He copied everything down to his socks.

“Your hair. It’s actually styled today.” Will placed a hand in Mike’s hair, tousling it teasingly before leaning against the counter across from Mike. His toes pressed against Mike’s, his comfort and ease making Mike start to feel his first pang of guilt; he was going straight to hell. Will thought he was his boyfriend, not his dorky twin brother.

“Eh, actually kind of just rolled out of bed.” He shrugged.

“That’s not what your hair looks like when you sleep, Richard.” Will laughed, lifting an eyebrow. Double gross. “Were you trying to style it today?”

“What? No!” Mike cried, shaking his head. “No I didn’t!”

“You did!” Will laughed, reaching out to grab “Richie”. “You were dressing up for me!”

“I wasn’t!” Mike tried to sound stern under his bubbling laughter. Will grabbed at his waist, tickling him. Mike squirmed as Will’s fingers curled around his hips, pulling him closer. He nearly pushed Will away, knowing that the closeness was under the understanding of a lie. “Will, wait.” Mike muttered. He tried to pull away but Will was stronger than Mike’s will to be away from him. Will pulled him forward again, Mike’s hands resting on Will’s shoulders to break his fall.

“Something wrong?” Will asked, looking at Mike’s wide and worried eyes. “You said your parents weren’t going to be home all day.”

“I know they aren’t.” Mike said. “It’s just… I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?” Will asked, his hands slipping around his waist and clasping together on Mike’s lower back.

“I…” Mike started, biting his lip as his eyes slowly fell to Will’s. “I think I love you.” Fuck.

“You think?” Will laughed, cocking his head. “Well, I have to say, that’s new.” Will didn’t seem bothered by Mike’s confession– although his eyes searched Mike’s face slowly, dragging over him painfully slow. Even through the fog of Richie’s glasses, Mike could see Will’s eyes tracking his nervous twitching as he leaned closer.

Will kissed Mike first. It was slow, taking more than a moment to have their lips pressed fully against the other’s. A long enough time to allow Mike to push Will away, but he was frozen. This wasn’t in the plan. Yes, Will was supposed to accept Mike as Richie and just let Mike feel close to his best friend in the way he never admitted he wanted, but Will wasn’t supposed to kiss him– that was cheating and Will wouldn’t have even known. Mike ruined their relationship. What the hell had he done?

“Will, wait. Stop.” Mike pushed him away and stepped back. “You don’t understand– I’m not–”

“Mike, it’s okay.” Will said quietly, biting his lip.

“Did you just… You know?” Mike removed Richie’s glasses to finally see Will in perfect clarity, and it was the first he had in his whole life.

“I knew it the minute I walked in the door.” Will blushed, twisting his hands in front of him. “But, I figured it was how you were going to get through to me– and for me to get through to you.”

“Wait… what gave it away?” Mike asked, still trying to reprocess his guilt since Will knew it was him.

“You said you trusted me.” Will said, shrugging. “Richie always likes to be right. If he didn’t remember a conversation, we didn’t have it.”

“So this whole time… You just let me look like a dick?” Mike asked, crossing his arms. “Thanks.”

“Mike, Richie and I have been broken up for three weeks.” Will said. “If I didn’t know it was you, you had a better chance of getting me to kiss you if you were just Mike. You know, the boy I actually like.”

“You let me say that I loved you.”

“Sorry, but you said that all on your own, Mike.” Will suppressed his smile and laughed softly at Mike’s open mouth, trying to argue but knowing he was wrong. “You should say it again.” 

“Can I be myself this time?” Mike asked, stepping back up to Will and placing his hands on his chest again.

“Can I kiss you after you say it again?” Will asked, biting his lip. “Even if you only think you love me?”

“I think I would love to kiss you again.”

ao3

#byeler #byler #will byers x mike wheeler #stranger things writing #prompts #mike and richie twins