#man i haven’t listened to louis in a hot minute i’ve been so into my niall phase dang i miss him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tllthesundies · 3 years

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Anonymous said:

hi! i love the entertainment fic :) can you please write the part when they are celebrating louis’ birthday together, from harry’s pov?

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Harry hears the front door open, then close.

He remains indifferent as he stirs the small pot with pesto sauce in it to keep it from burning. He, also, keeps his eye on the boiling noodles in the bigger pot. But he’s listening to Louis’s footsteps and the jingling of keys in his pocket.

“Okay, rockstar,” he hears Louis’s voice, becoming louder the closer he approaches. “I know I take care of everything, and I recognise that you live in the middle of no man’s land, but I didn't actually think I'd have to include a lesson plan on keeping your doors locked. Things happen, even out here.” He pauses, and although Harry keeps his vision on the food, he sees Louis in his peripheral lean against the counter beside him. He’s wearing his jean jacket, some grey band t-shirt on underneath, and pairing it with boyfriend jeans. “I mean, it's California.” Harry can’t help sparing him a brief look, anyhow, quirking an eyebrow as he stirs the pesto. He doesn't respond to Louis. Louis watches for a moment before pushing himself away from the counter to instead lean his hip against it. He sighs. “What are you doing?”

“Making dinner,” quietly and casually replies Harry. He turns the heat for the spaghetti off. “I thought we could eat while we plan. Are you hungry?”

Louis nods.

“Haven't had anything since lunch.”

Harry glances back at a cabinet somewhere behind Louis and points to it. “Do you mind grabbing plates for us and setting the table? They're in that cabinet.”

“Yeah, sure.” When Louis disappears, Harry takes the pot to drain the noodles. “Do you want a specific colour?” he decides to ask Harry.

“Um,” hums Harry over the sound of pouring hot water and wet noodles being dumped into a strainer. “Honestly? I'm feeling teal.”

As Harry finishes draining the noodles, pours pesto sauce on them and mixes them, and finishes the vegetables, he glances repeatedly, briefly, at Louis. He sees him with teal and olive green plates and sets them up on Harry’s table. He, also, tries offering help, but Harry shuts him down immediately, each time, and sends him to just sit at the table. His hands shake just a little bit when he puts each food back into their respective pots–the ends of his nerves are on burning ice and he can’t make himself look at Louis for very long, if at all. He’s just on edge for the truth he hasn’t told him, but he takes a silent breath to clear his head.

“Most of everything,” Harry says, after he’s set everything on the table and gently plops into the seat beside Louis.

Louis blinks up at him.

“What?”

Spooning noodles onto his plate carefully, Harry repeats, “Most. You take care of most things.” He offers the spoon to Louis with a small smirk ghosting his lips.

Louis breathes out a soft chuckle, taking the utensil from Harry.

He shakes his head in reply.

He waits until everything is on their plates to take off his jean jacket. Harry watches him remove paper from inside a pocket, then hangs it on the back of his chair. Louis unfolds it, glancing up at him. “I don't know what you've got planned,” he begins, “or anything, but I made a list, anyway, to help jumpstart ideas. You know Calista, so, I kind of presume you know what she likes. But—just in case.”

Tentatively, Harry takes the list Louis gives him. He swallows as invisible as possible, and his eyes roam over all of the ideas Louis’s written down: Frozen themed - extremely popular concept still; Pink strawberry theme; Typical animal zoo theme; the birthday party concepts keep going on and on, and the longer Harry continues reading the list, the more those icy ends of his nerves burn more. It becomes overwhelming for his chest, and–he has to tell the truth. There’s too much devotion and dedication in this list to keep his façade going. Leaning back into his chair, he finally gathers the courage to look at Louis, and says, “This list isn’t going to be useful. Don't be mad at me.” Eyebrows narrowing, a puzzled look comes across Louis’s face. “I lied to you.”

The fork in Louis’ hand halts.

He blinks slowly at Harry.

“What are you talking about?” he asks. “Why am I here, then?”

For a split second, Harry’s confidence wavers. There’s a hesitancy he can’t help having, and one he’s not used to controlling – and as observant as Louis is, he probably sees the moment he wavers. And the controlling side of Harry hates that possibility. But he looks Louis directly in the eye, runs a hand through his hair, and speaks in a quiet voice. “It’s your birthday in just a few days. I—I wanted to . . . give you some kind of celebration to show my”–the words continue getting stuck in his throat; he has to spit them out, to warm them up–“. . . appreciation for everything you’ve done.” He pauses, to gauge Louis’s reaction. He looks–unsure; wondering; still confused, albeit a little more understanding. “Look, I’m not the best at, uh—expressing my feelings for people. Not that I have feelings. But”—he rubs an eye with his knuckle, becoming frustrated with himself—“you know what I mean.”

He took Rachel’s advice, but maybe he went too far this time. He lied to get Louis to agree to this. He lied because he didn’t know any other way to go about this. He doesn’t know how to just–outright ask someone such a simple thing like hey, I want to celebrate your birthday, would you like to come over? And it’s far more awkward because he purposely hasn’t been the most pleasant to the exact person he wants to celebrate.

He’s trying.

Probably in his own twisted way, but he’s trying.

And the silence from Louis stretches for far too long – to the point Harry gets uncomfortable. But he doesn’t show it.

“I don’t know what to say,” Louis says, after some time, words just above a whisper.

“Say nothing,” Harry chooses for him. “Consider this a . . . I recognise your hard work, Louis. You’re always on time, prepared, and organised. I’ve never had to tell you how to do your job, and that takes a lot of pressure off of me. So, thank you.” That last part stings his throat when it comes out. But not in the wrong way. “Again, consider this a congratulatory party for two. Nothing more.”

Louis stares at him.

“How did you know?”

“Résumé,” Harry simply answers.

A small beat of silence.

Louis narrows his eyes at him. “I never put my age or date of birth on any résumé.”

“Résumé,” Harry repeats, intentionally curt.

Harry’s not going to tell him from which source he acquired the information from. He wouldn’t blow Niall’s cover like that. Niall had questioned him plenty enough when he had called him. Why do you want to know? Niall asked, even though he had already given the information to Harry. I just want to be nice, is all Harry answered with.

He wasn’t lying.

“Fine,” Louis replies cooly. “Creep.”

Harry puts on an unimpressed look, staring directly into Louis’s eyes as he chews his food. After swallowing, he says, “That’s a big accusation coming from someone I could fire.”

Louis smiles, smug.

“See, that’s the beautiful thing . . . you can’t fire me,” he retorts.

Harry shakes his head, and he fights the muscles in his face that are around his mouth that desperately are trying to lift his lips at Louis’s reply. He can’t let that happen. His mind races with other topics to bring; with other distractions.

“Listen,” Harry says, “I have a cake for you.”

“Where?”

Harry shakes his head again.

“We have to make it,” he tells him.

Louis looks cautious. “What flavour?”

“Chocolate.”

A pleasantly surprised look crosses his features. “That’s my favourite,” he says. “Lucky guess?”

“You could say that.”

Dinner continues quietly. The ends of Harry’s nerves have started to warm up, evaporating the icy burn and replacing it with a normal temperature. His heart stops beating inconsistently and begins functioning like a normal human being. However, the same icy feeling starts to show itself in Harry’s mouth; words flow uncontrollably out of his mouth. Harry’s not a talker. He knows how to talk. He knows how to respond to people, and how to maintain conversation, but he doesn’t generally start the conversations unless he has no choice. Louis looks a little amused by him, but he does his best to ignore it. He, also, tries to get Louis to talk about himself, so, that he has some semblance of control over his mouth, but it doesn’t work.

Harry notices Dolly sauntering into the kitchen in his peripheral as he loads the dishwasher. She has her mustard yellow turtleneck on still that Harry had put on her this morning, her collar matching impeccably. She comes right over to Harry and peers into the dishwasher, but Harry scratches behind her ear as a warning before gently swatting her away.

She mews loudly at him, offended, she wanders over Louis.

Harry rolls his eyes at her.

“Look what you've done,” Louis speaks up.

Harry looks over his shoulder at Louis as he messes with the controls on the top of the dishwasher.

Snorting, Harry opens a drawer and slings a clean dish cloth over his shoulder before making his way over to Louis. “She's just mad I wanted to keep her from hurting herself,” he tells Louis. “She'll come around in ten minutes and act like it never happened.” He lifts a hand and gently caresses Dolly’s neck. But Dolly tries to hide from him by burying her face into Louis's armpit.

Louis laughs, surprised.

“Oh, no.”

Harry just puckers his lips and gives her an air kiss, and chuckles, smiling. “She always comes back.”

Louis bends his head and drops his gaze to Dolly. Harry watches the gentle way he rubs the top of her head and the rest of her body. He’s so much more familiar with her than when he had first met Dolly. He had been jumpy, a little scared. Now, they’re friends. Harry turns his head away and walks to the pantry.

“So, I've got,” Harry begins, and stops. He grabs the chocolate cake box he sees hiding on the top shelf, and stretches his arm up to get it. The matching frosting container is nearby, and he grabs it, too. He reads the back of it before continuing speaking. “Chocolate frosting. And”—he draws out the word until Louis rolls his eyes, telling him to get on with it; Harry's composure breaks, a grin breaking across his face as he stammers out his words because of his breathy laugh—“could you get the eggs out, please?”

Louis probably thinks he’s annoying.

It’s all on purpose.

Louis squats down to release Dolly from his arms. She jumps out of his grip, but remains by his feet. He washes his hands, first, then puts the eggs he retrieved from the fridge on the island.

Harry comes up beside Louis who’s reading the instructions on the back very carefully, and just dumps the oil, cake mix box, and frosting next to the eggs

Harry finds his measuring cup, and gives it to Louis to use for the oil and water. Louis asks him senseless questions; if he wants to do the eggs, et cetera. Louis has him sniff the inside of the cake mix bake to see if it smells good. It’s very chocolatey. And while he lets Louis do whatever he wants with the cake, he searches through his playlist to find music to fill the silence, so, he doesn’t have to talk too much. He finds Louis a bowl, a pan to fit the mixture into, and preheats the oven.

Harry sticks his finger in the bowl last minute, making a pop sound upon releasing his finger from between his lips.

“That’s really tasty,” he says.

Louis’s unimpressed.

“Tell me that when you get salmonella.”

“Can't wait.”

Louis shakes his head.

As they wait for the cake to fully bake, they work together cleaning all of the dirty utensils and bowls. They clean the island. Dolly stays silently crowding their feet. Harry can feel Dolly rubbing her head against his ankles, then attempts to climb onto his feet to lay down on them. Harry internally sighs.

“Look,” murmurs Louis.

Harry hears a smile reflecting in his voice.

He doesn't remove his gaze from the whisk he's washing.

“I know she's there. I'm ignoring her.��

Then it happens very fast:

Harry feels a small puddle gather on his feet and the bottom of his pants that cling to his skin. He hears Louis’s shocked laughter, but he doesn’t look at him as he breathes in a sharp breath to calm himself. Every fucking time.

“She—”

Harry's eyes close in pain. “I know. I wish I could say this hasn't happened before.”

While Louis’s still giggling and picks Dolly up from his feet, Harry excuses himself to go change his pants, then reemerges to find Louis feeding Dolly from the palm of his hand.

Louis looks over his shoulder at Harry, a single eyebrow raised.

“Better?” he asks.

“No,” Harry answers immediately. He pulls out the chair beside Louis, turns it around to sit backwards in it. He crosses his arms on the back of it, and gives Dolly an annoyed look that she ignores entirely in favour of the food she nibbles on in Louis's outstretched hand.

Still highly amused, Louis smiles, looking at Harry. “She's fine. Why'd she do that?”

“She does it when I'm absent too much” Harry explains. “In her cat mind, she thinks if she vomits on me, I'll be forced to clean up after her and take care of her. I don't know. Cats are—they have strange minds. I just think it’s only my cat because she has anxiety problems.”

Closing his parted lips, Louis shifts his gaze over to Dolly. She's trying to bite down on a hard piece she got. Harry watches them both. “Did you want to, like, watch something?” Louis asks, glancing briefly at Harry. “While the cake bakes?”

Harry nods.

“What do you have in mind?”

Shrugging, once, feebly, Louis says, “I don't know. Maybe a movie? Comedies are nice.”

Harry stands from his chair, and pushes it back in normally. “It’s your birthday; you get all the privileges of picking and holding the remote.” He walks past behind Louis and into the front room, and sits down in the left corner of his settee.

After letting Dolly tackle the last couple of pieces of her cat food into her mouth, Louis picks her up and takes her with. He tucks his left leg underneath his right one when he sits down on the settee. There's a space between their bodies that isn’t too enclosed to make Harry uncomfortable; and he averts his gaze to the television, so, that he won’t continuously stare at Louis in his peripheral vision. He can’t keep doing that. He can’t keep–looking at him more than he needs to.

It’s dangerous.

Harry places the remote in Louis's outstretched palm.

Louis shifts through channels for too long; and when he enters Netflix, he spends too much time reading each and every description.

“By this rate,” says Harry, breaking their long held silence, “the cake will be ready before you settle on something.”

Louis turns his head, tilting his head in a look. “Well, I'm not much of a TV person, to be honest,” Louis admits. “What do you recommend?”

“I told you,” says Harry, staring straight at the television still, “your birthday, your choice. . . . But . . . if you really want a recommendation . . . There's Something About Mary is a very good romantic comedy.”

Louis blinks. “What's it about?”

“This guy Ted — Ben Stiller plays him — wants to reconnect with his old prom date back from high school he had a massive crush on, so, he hires somebody to track her down and . . . it's, like, really messy, but what rom-com isn’t? It's a hundred times better than it sounds,” Harry promises him.

Louis seems to consider it.

Then he nods.

“Sure. Let's watch that.”

Harry looks over his shoulder at Louis as he stands from the settee. “You sure?” he asks.

Harry kneels in front of his small but wide bookcase full of DVDs. He quickly looks over every case until he finds the one he’s looking for. Turning the player on and popping in the disc, he returns to his spot on the sofa. Harry’s seen this romcom a thousand times, so, though he keeps his eye on the television, he doesn’t try to catch up with everything that plays out. Instead, he listens to Louis’s laughter, and distracts himself by dragging his forefinger across his lips for something to do. When the stove timer goes off, he jumps up to get it, and Dolly follows behind him.

“It's done,” Harry calls out. After he puts the cake on the counter on top of a dish cloth, he tests the idle with a toothpick. When he looks up to see where Louis is, he finds him by Harry’s walls of picture frames, cradling Dolly in his arms as his gaze roams. Harry decides to act indifferent and let a hard feeling pass through his stomach, and raids through his pantry to find the frosting. “Louis. Where's the frosting?” Harry feels Louis come up beside him a moment later. “I gave it to you. Where could it have disappeared to?”

Taking a step back, Louis stretches an arm out to open the freezer door. He reaches in, and then he closes it to hold the small container of frosting towards Harry, in the air. “Right here,” he says, wiggling it when Harry looks at him, gaze falling on the container. “I put it in the freezer.”

Harry pauses, lips parting. “Why did you put it in the freezer?”

Louis raises both brows at him in a way that the answer should be obvious. “Because room temperature frosting is disgusting? It's only good when it's cold.”

Gently, he tosses it on the island.

Harry's eyebrows pull together as he steps back and pulls the pantry door closed. “Uh—I hate to inform you, but frosting is good no matter what temperature it is,” he says in a vaguely defensive voice.

“Now you're just being gross,” comments Louis, looking briefly at Harry when he situates himself in front the cake, his lightheartedness subtle. Harry chooses to just busy himself with removing the cake from the pan, turning his back to Louis. “Oh, no.”

Harry turns around.

“What?” Harry asks.

He sets the plate full of cake beside Louis on the island and peeks at what Louis has in his hand.

Louis turns his body in an angle, towards Harry, and demonstrates the issue. Holding a knife in his hand to scope some of the chocolate frosting out, he goes at it — but he's stopped, and it's impossible to get any, because the knife is met with nothing but brick. “It's frozen,” Louis says.

Harry blinks a few times.

“Really?”

“Shut up,” he retorts. He glances around before walking over to a cabinet to retrieve a bowl. “Couldn't we use a microwave? Unless you're willing to wait an hour for it to thaw. I know I rather not.” Setting the bowl down, next to the frosting, Louis takes it in his hands and attempts to shake it out into the bowl first. Harry just watches him – and he pauses for a second, because he notices a small freckle on the upper part of the side of his neck. He’s lost count, now, how many freckles Louis has.

“I thought you hated warm frosting.”

“I do, but if we put it in for just a few seconds it won't matter,” Louis reasons.

Harry watches him shake it and realise that method doesn’t work. He proceeds to lay it upside down on the lid and hits it hard. Then he tries squeezing it before attempting to pry the container from the edges of the frosting.

The corners of his mouth tilt downwards in a frown.

“It's going to take more than a few seconds,” Harry comments, and takes the frosting from Louis. He bangs it against the edge of the island, the sound visibly startling Louis. The solid block of frosting falls right into the bowl Louis had gotten. Harry gives him a smile as he walks past Louis to the microwave that sits on the counter to the left of the refrigerator and slides it in. Harry doesn't take it out until it looks like it's thawed entirely, then pulls it out with a hot pad. Coming up beside Louis, he pokes his index finger in the frosting and sucks it into his mouth. “Not that warm.”

He pokes another finger in it.

Louis waves his fingers away from the frosting, and he uses the knife from before to taste it. The temperature appears to be okay with him, judging by the pleased look on his face.

“It's really good,” he confesses quietly to Harry. He puts his knife in the dishwasher full of other dirty utensils and grabs clean knives and forks to use and separate plates for Harry and him. “I don't want to put any frosting on it, by the way,” he adds.

Harry pauses.

“What? Why?” He pulls his eyebrows together in confusion, and looks at Louis instead of the cake. What kind of person doesn’t want frosting on their cake?

“I prefer to have it on the side and dip the cake in the frosting,” Louis explains. “It tastes better to me that way.”

For a few moments, Harry stares at him, and Louis stares back, a little challenge in his face. His assistant is weird. But he can work around it. So, he nods, saying, “We can do that, no problem.” Then he remembers: “Wait.” He walks over to a drawer a few feet from them and rummages through it until he pulls out two things: a large pack of single candle sticks, and candle numbers 2 and 7. “Can't forget these.” Harry sticks the numbers right in the centre, then surrounds it with twenty-seven of the fifty count of blue candles. It's a very crowded cake, and crumbly and has new cracks added into the old ones because of the force of all the candles. It’s ugly, in Harry’s opinion; the cake, the stereotypical candles, how bare and destroyed it all is – but when he lifts his head to look at Louis, into his blue eyes that have specks of green and grey, his chest eases. Stops. Momentarily. This . . . isn’t so ugly.

Quickly, he lights all of the candles. “Okay,” he says upon lighting the last one, and sets down the lighter. “Make a wish.”

Louis ends up staring at his face instead of blowing out the candles right away. He searches Harry’s face. And Harry doesn’t know what to do besides stare right back. Finally, Louis tears his eyes away and leans down, blowing out the candles. They leave a trail of smoke in the air and a very distinct candle stench that Harry hates. But Harry pretends, and chooses to clap him for and whistle. Louis laughs at him, something soft and something high that pulls at Harry’s chest. He starts picking the candles out of the cake, and Harry notices a soft tinge of pink colouring the apples of his cheeks.

Harry doesn’t know why, so, he ignores it.

Louis cuts the cake and gives the first slice to Harry, then gives one to himself. Harry suffocates his slice in frosting very carelessly. Dolly retreats back to them and tries to rub her face in the bowl of chocolate and what's on their plates, but Harry grabs her with both of his hands and tucks her underneath his arm. She struggles to free herself the entire time; Harry ignores it. Even when they sit back down on the sofa to continue watching their movie. Harry doesn’t see it coming when Dolly whips her paw around and slashes at his skin, causing a long and bright red scratch down his forearm. He lets her go immediately, pissed off.

He sees Dolly strut right into Louis's lap, and walks in circles before settling down to rest on his thighs. Her relaxed exterior pisses him off more.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks, concerned, eyes full of concern.

Harry’s jaw tenses. “It burns,” he answers truthfully, “but I’m fine. She's just in a mood today.” He rolls his eyes.

There’s a frown on Louis’s face when he glances down at Dolly, but he doesn’t say anything further. Harry chooses to suck it up and finish eating his cake while ignoring Dolly. The scratch thankfully never bleeds, as they finish the rest of their movie, eating the entire cake by themselves. Louis doesn’t finish the next slice he eats, but Harry has no problem eating the rest of it for the both of them.

Harry's licking the icing off his fork when he looks at Louis. The half piece of pure cake is still there on Louis’s plate. “What did you think?”

Louis's eyes flicker up at him, meeting his gaze. Breathing in a soft breath, he nods his head.

“It was good; I liked it. I love Cameron Diaz.”

“Me, too,” Harry admits. “She's very nice.”

“Have you met her?”

Humming, Harry nods once. “Met her on the red carpet at some award show. I think I have a picture.” Louis huffs out a chuckle. “Do you want to watch another movie?”

Louis stays silent for a moment, then shrugs and rests a hand on Dolly, whom lays sleeping in his lap. “Sure. But you pick this time.”

“It's still your choice,” Harry reminds him.

Breathing out a purposely heavy annoyed sigh, he says, “I choose you to pick the next thing we watch.”

“That's not how it works.”

“Sure, it is. It's my birthday.”

Harry stares at Louis, pressing his lips together. It becomes a staring contest between them. It goes on for several moments until Harry blinks and looks away. “I can't argue that,” he says, finally.

“Exactly,” quips Louis, as he gently drops the remote in Harry's outstretched hand, palm turned up.

They watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s, then when Harry turns on Meet the Parents, he notices Louis’s eyes start closing. He repetitively glances out of the corner of his eyes at Louis, watching him nod off until he’s sound asleep. Harry’s chest grows soft as he stares at Louis’s tired, pale face. His thin lips are slightly parted, like he should be snoring. Him and Dolly both sound asleep on each other is a rather humourous sight. He decides to leave Louis be and turns his attention to the television to watch the movie. There’s something . . . oddly comforting about the silence; Louis sleeping beside him, the hum of the telly, the filling sensation that encompasses the silence. It’s not so lonely–not so what Harry’s used to. By the end of the movie, he grabs his own plate and stands up, then does his best to grab Louis’s without disturbing him. But Louis’s eyes flutter open at the accidental brush of contact that Harry internally curses himself for. Louis straightens out his very tilted sleeping position, and looks up at him through squinted eyes.

Harry gives Louis a genuine apologetic look, and quietly says, “Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.”

Louis delicately rubs his eye with the back of his right hand, and stretches his legs, breathing out a tired sigh. He blinks his eyes a few times to adjust. “It's fine,” he rasps. “Sorry I'm falling asleep.”

“Don't apologise,” Harry gently tells him.

He continues off to the kitchen. After scraping off pieces into the rubbish and rinsing off their plates, he lays them on the counter, then hesitates. The image of the gift bag still in the other room floats to the forefront of his mind. He looks over his shoulder at Louis, and finds him distracted by Dolly, and makes a quick decision. Harry speed walks to the other room on silent heels and grabs Louis’ gift bag, then makes his way back into the front room. Louis looks up the exact moment Harry approaches him, and the movements of his hand combing Dolly’s fur stop when his eyes fall down and spot a white bag in Harry's left hand.

“What ‘ave you got there?” His tone is careful.

Harry sets the shopping bag right in his spot, close enough for Louis to reach into. Harry sits on the edge of the settee on the other side of Louis, at an angle facing Louis, and he looks him directly in the eyes. “I thought I'd give this to you, before you completely black out on me,” he says. “It's not really a celebration without gifts, too.”

Louis pushes himself up to sit straighter. “Harry . . .” He looks at a loss for words – lips parted on nothing; uncertainty scaling his face and eyes; touching the bag’s thin, black handles like it’ll burn him. “You didn't have to get me anything. Dinner, movies, the cake, I'm perfectly content just with that.”

Harry presses his lips together lightly and nods. “I know,” he says, forcing his gaze to not leave Louis's. “But I want to do this for you. Don’t make me repeat myself; I’m not good with complimenting people. Just accept it.”

“Harry—”

“Fucking accept it,” he says.

Glancing between Harry's face and the bag, Louis touches it again.

He leans forward and peeks inside. It’s covered by black, decorative tissue paper, and Harry watches him use both hands to remove all the tissue paper.

He knows the second Louis sees it. He pauses, gaze unblinking and widening just enough for Harry to catch. He sees the backpack from Givenchy Harry had gotten him. That was . . . another thing he managed to get out of Niall. Louis’s allegedly been so back and forth about buying it for himself that Harry decided to choose for him. It was extremely easy to find, and even easier to buy. It was probably the easiest gift Harry’s ever had to shop for. But–he didn’t think it was enough; he had bought a bag of Reese’s, as well as wrote a check out for Louis and put that in the backpack for him. Maybe it would make up for everything, Harry’s hoping–maybe it’ll . . . Harry shouldn’t be hoping for anything, really. But after Rachel had a talk with him and made him feel like a shitty person, he’s hoping this’ll convey Harry’s guilt. Or apology. Louis might not recognise it as that, but that’s okay.

“Open it,” Harry instructs softly.

Louis quits just staring at the bag and unzips it. Suddenly, he looks up at Harry and smiles at him, face glowing in happiness. Harry can’t help the smile he gives him in return. Louis backs down and–a little laugh is pulled out of him. Harry’s eyebrow furrow, a little, in wonder.

“What's so funny?” Harry asks.

Louis pulls the bag of candy out to show Harry, without speaking.

Harry's gaze shifts from Louis to the treat, a confused but amused smile splitting across his lips. He . . . doesn’t understand. It’s candy. Harry shrugs like what about it? and Louis shakes his head in response and mumbles never mind. Setting the candy down beside Dolly, he grabs the check.

Louis scoffs, shaking his head as he begins to read it, and asks, “How much is this?”

But he abruptly stops, face falling.

“Five thousand dollars,” Harry casually answers, despite his heart picking up pace again. Louis lifts his head to look at him, but he doesn't say anything. Is it too much? Is it too forward? Did Harry cross a line? Maybe he was wrong for buying Louis his dream backpack and a check. But if he just stuck with the candy, then Harry would look like he put in the least amount of effort in. And this is the line he struggles with: either going too far, or not doing enough. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Louis answers immediately. Then he releases a breath, knowing he’s full of it. “This is too much, Harry.”

Harry blinks, then stamps on his racing heart and pulls out his detached face. “Louis,” he begins, stern, “don’t even start. That?”—he points to the check—“That is pocket change to me. We’ve gone over this. I have more money than I’ll ever know what to do with. I don’t see better use for it than for charity and for using it to buy whatever you want. Don’t feel bad about me using my own money. Eat the rich, or whatever they say.”

“Do you even know what that means?” Louis asks.

Harry pauses.

“Yes and no. But that’s a different conversation for another day.”

Louis blinks, breaking his gaze from Harry. Harry watches him closely, and waits for something. Louis’s face is concentrated; furrowed eyebrows, a far away look in his crystal clear eyes. He’s thinking something, and as much as Harry would love to get inside that pretty little head of his, he merely settles for waiting. Dolly comes poking through, however, weaving herself effortlessly and expertly through Louis's arms. She throws her arms up to cling to the opened backpack, and stands on her hind legs to peer inside. She stuffs her entire head in it, and it breaks Louis out of whatever it was, making him chuckle.

Harry just shakes his head.

Louis wraps his fingers around her legs to pull her back out of his backpack, but she clings hard. Harry finds himself laughing softly at the image before him, and he intervenes quickly. He softly scratches behind Dolly's head, then transitions into wrapping his hands around her bottom. He picks her up upside down, successfully having Dolly let go.

Harry pulls her to his chest.

Louis's small chuckle turns into a giggle, and he shakes his head. He reaches for his phone on the coffee table, and Harry watches his face change to realisation.

“I have to go,” he announces.

Dolly falls out of Harry’s grip and runs away.

He looks at Harry.

Harry puts on an unreadable face. “You have to go?” he repeats.

“Yeah,” Louis responds as he stands up. “I have a flight in the morning. Remember? I have to get up really early, and triple check all my belongings. It’s a long flight, so, I’ll need some proper rest.”

“All right,” Harry agrees. He walks first to the door, with Louis following suit, after placing his backpack back into the bag, along with the check. “When's your flight?”

“Hm,” Louis hums. “I think 7.45 in the morning.”

“Harsh,” Harry comments lightly. He lifts his hand to rub at his neck a moment. “I hope it's good. Tell your mum I said hello.”

Louis nods. “I will. And I hope it is, too.” There's a slightly awkward pause, on Louis's end. But it doesn’t last. “Listen . . . I want to thank you for—”

Harry interrupts him.

“No problem.”

“You didn't have to,” Louis points out. He's clearly not going to let Harry wave it off. “You didn't have to do anything at all, but you did. I just want you to know that it's one of the nicest things someone's ever done for me, and that I really, really appreciate it.”

Louis looks at with the most serene face, conviction in his tone. It causes Harry to be temporarily weak.

“You're welcome,” he says in response, hands clasped behind his back for something to hold on to.

Harry doesn’t see it coming – Louis steps forward with confidence, coming into Harry’s personal space, and raises himself onto his toes to wrap his arms around Harry’s shoulders. Those icy nerves return alight and burn him. He’s paralysed for several moments; all he registers is the faint scent of floral notes reaching into his nostrils and brushing against his nose hairs. It’s not overwhelming; it’s the perfect aroma of flowers and fruitiness. Based on his own colognes he’s sampled and bought before, this one could be YSL – or maybe it’s ones he’s seen, such as Lancome. They carry a lot of floral perfumes. Either way, it’s very pleasing. And before he can think, he sneaks his arms around Louis’s small waist–it’s much smaller and slimmer than it looks–and spreads his fingers across the bottom of his spine and the middle of his back.

It’s only a moment later Louis pulls back.

Even though Louis doesn’t look at him, he can’t stop staring at Louis, completely dumbfounded.

“I'll see you in a couple weeks,” says Louis, smiling, when he looks up at Harry. “I'm a text and phone call away if you need anything, okay?” Louis raises a pointed eyebrow at him, giving Harry a look. “Don't hesitate, okay? I won't mind.”

Harry nods.

He’s not going to, but he’ll pretend for Louis.

“Got it,” he says, pressing his lips together.

The pointed look remains on Louis's face.

“I mean it,” he presses, to ensure his message is across.

Harry rolls his eyes and straightens out his posture. “I know,” he sighs. “I’ve survived nearly a decade without you, so, I don't think anything I can't handle is going to happen in the time you'll be gone.”

Louis throws his hands up in surrender.

“Hey, I didn't say you couldn't handle any one thing. I implied quite the opposite, actually,” he corrects.

Harry plays along.

“No need to rub my already swollen ego.”

Louis smiles, huffing out a small laugh. It’s the softest expression he’s ever seen on a face. It’s so caring. Harry doesn’t–understand how he can be so gentle. “Never happy with anything, are you?” he teases.

Harry smiles. “Nope,” he says. “Comes with being a perfectionist. And just being me, in general.”

“I see.” There's silence that falls over them like a blanket. Harry’s hoping Louis will take the cue and leave, but he stays. “What do you plan to do for Christmas?”

Harry blinks.

“I don't know,” he answers. “I don't do much for Christmas, really. I don't celebrate it.”

Louis raises an inquiring brow. “Because of religious reasons, or . . . ?”

Harry shrugs. He doesn’t talk about it with anyone. He’s certainly not going to discuss it with Louis. “Nah. Just don't celebrate it, that's all,” he answers, giving Louis a small smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Not even with your parents?” Harry shakes his head, choosing not to say anything more. With that, Louis drops the subject. “Don't forget to—”

“I'm kicking you out,” Harry says, tone flat, and a finger pointed to the door behind Louis.

He walks around him and opens it.

“You're kicking me out?” Louis repeats,, smiling and now standing so close to the door frame, as he keeps his gaze on Harry, whom now leans against the side of the red door, arms crossed and one foot hooked around the other.

Harry nods vigorously, eyebrows risen.

“Get out. Right now.”

“Fine, I'll leave,” says Louis, raising his hands as he walks out onto the stone walkway, “but not because you're threatening me; but because I want to.” He keeps on walking down the small set of stone steps and across the path leading to the driveway.

“Louis,” Harry calls out without thinking, just going on the feeling of restricted air in his chest. Louis looks over his shoulder, as his hand pulls his car keys out of his pants pocket, and his strides slow. He stares at Harry with patience, and it’s the last thing Harry wants to see in his face, because he won’t be seeing him for a while. “Merry Christmas. Happy birthday. Have a safe flight.”

Louis’s mouth curves up in a gentle, genuine smile.

“Thank you. Happy New Year,” he calls back.

Harry closes the door two-thirds of the way, not willing to let go of the sight of Louis quite yet. He needs to see him get safely in his car and drive away – he can’t let that feeling go. The restriction in his chest worsens when he watches Louis open his car door, but it eases slowly when Louis looks back. In fear of coming off creepy, he closes the door. But he stays behind it to listen to the engine start – to see the red lights reflect against the windows and the distant sound of his car fade until Harry can’t hear anything anymore. Then he turns around, inhaling a deep breath when his vision lands on Dolly sitting on her bum patiently by the stairs, watching him.

“Dolly,” he says – she tilts her head – “Am I too much?”

Dolly mews and walks off.

He’s always changing himself, changing his style, his image. He’s either always too much or not enough; there’s no healthy balance. Maybe he’ll try working on it in Louis’s absence, so, he doesn’t have to fret over it every time he says or does something he’s not familiar with. He doesn’t want to scare Louis off.

#drabbles #hiiii i hope this doesn't disappoint! i had a headache while doing this lol so i hope it turns out decent-ish!

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hamanuelton · 4 years

Text

my favorite parts of hamilton:

- “I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory.”

- every time Leslie Odom Jr. as aaron burr begins another part with “how did a bastard, orphan-“ or like in that same way ‘cause he doesn’t always start it that way but you know what I mean

- the way Leslie Odom Jr. as My Boi Burr™️ says “well, the world got around, they said, ‘this kid is insane, man!’”

- also when Leslie Odom Jr. as A. Burr says

“WHAT’S YOUR NAME, MAN?!”

- “our man saw his future drip-dripping down the drain, a pencil to his temple, connected it to his brain”

- “Alexander Hamilton. My name is Alexander Hamilton. And there’s a million things I haven’t done, but just you wait, just you wait...”

- background “just you wait, just you wait”’s as hammy’s putting on a new jacket and ensemble is praising nyc

- “and me? i’m the damn fool that shot him.”

- “Burr, sir” + the continuation of this all throughout

- “If you talk you’re gonna get shot” / FORESHADOWING WOOOEEEEWOOOOO

- “i’m John Laurens in the place to be”

- Lafayette’s fuckinf accent

- “BRRRAH! BRRAAAH! HERCULES MULLIGAN UP IN IT LOVIN IT”

- “if you stand for nothing, Burr, what’ll you fall for”

- “‘Onarchy?”

- hey, yo, i’m just like my country, i’m young, scrappy, and hungry—

- the way Odom Leslie Jr. as The Hamburrglar™️ says ‘shot’ and they all take a shot

- this ⤵️

- Hammy getting //flustered// about friendship

- WHEN ARE THESE COLONIES GONNA RISE UP

- Angelica’s face when Burr is tryna tell her bout herself and she shows him up and ships him out

- Act 1: 6. Farmer Refuted

- honorable mention: “my dog speaks more eloquently than thee!" "but strangely, your mange is the same." "is he in jersey?”

- King George pouting

- Jonathan Groff’s overarticulation of each syllable as King George is a work of art

- “♪ Da-da-da-dat-da-dat-da-da-da-dai-ah-da! ♪ Da-da-da-da-dai-ah-da! ♪

- “Everybody! —“

- “We keep meeting.”

- “i imagine death so much it feels more like a memory. when’s it gonna get me? in my sleep? seven feet ahead of me?”

- “See, I never thought I’d live past twenty.”

- “this is not a moment, it’s the movement”

- “I’m laughin’ in the face of casualties and sorrow, for the first time, I’m thinkin’ past tomorrow!”

- “dying is easy, young man, living is harder!”

- “i’m being honest. i’m working with a third of what our Congress promised.”

- “you need all the help you can get. i have some friends. Laurens, Mulligan, Marquis de Lafayette, okay, what else?” — “we’ll need some spies on the inside, some king’s men who might let some things slide.”

- “watch this obnoxious, arrogant, loudmouth bother be seated at the right hand of the father.”

- “Martha Washington named her feral tomcat after him” — “That’s true.”

- “Yo, if your marry a sister, you’re rich, son!” — “Is it a question of ‘if’, Burr, or which one?” and then the little ‘hey’ ‘hey’ thing they do gets me every time

- literally the use of yo throughout the production fucking gets me every single fucking time

- “i’m writin’ a letter nightly. now my life gets better, every letter that you write me. — THE PURE UNBRIDLED SENSE OF FORESHADOWING IN “laughin’ at my sister, cuz she wants to form a harem” — ft. “i’m just sayin’, if you really loved me, you would share him!”

- the irony in “Eliza, i don’t have a dollar to my name”, you’ll be on the $10 bill, my man

- top-notch brain

- Angelica TRIED TO TAKE A BITE OF ME

- the way Anthony Ramos as John Laurens says “alright, alright. that’s what i’m talkin’ about!” and also the face that he makes

- hunger-pang frame

- “You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied.” — “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. You forget yourself.” — “You’re like me. I’m never satisfied.” — “Is that right?” — “I have never been satisfied.” — “My name is Angelica Schuyler.” — “Alexander Hamilton.” — “Where’s your fam’ly from?” — “Unimportant. There’s a million things I haven’t done but just you wait, just you wait...”

- tbh the way ‘Schuyler’ is spelled is oddly satisfying to me

- honestly just the way LMM says Alexander Hamilton+/ my name is Alexander Hamilton, and there’s a million things i haven’t done, ‘just you wait, just you wait...’ throughout the production

- “i’m the oldest and the wittiest and the gossip in new york city is insidious”

- “You are the worst, Burr.”

- Act 1: 12. The Story of Tonight (Reprise)

- “love doesn’t discriminate, between the sinners and the saints, it takes and it takes and it takes”

- “love doesn’t discriminate, between the sinners and the saints, it takes and it takes and it takes and we keep living anyway. we rise and we fall and we break and we make our mistakes. and if there’s a reason i’m still alive when everyone who loves me has died—“

- “Chick-a-plao!”

- the way they say ‘raise a glass’ is both elegant and (appropriately) reverent

- “i go back to new york and my apprenticeship” — i shouted MY BOI HERCULES MULLIGAN UP IN IT LOVIN IT DID NOT JUST SAY THAT, IF HE ACTUALLY LEFT AND ISN’T JUST UNDERCOVER OR SOME SHIT IMMA WRITE LIN-MANUEL MIRANDA A STRONGLY WORDED LETTER

- the minute General Charles Les came into the picture i hated him so hard, even though his literal first word was ‘Whee!!!!’, though i can appreciate the sentiment and what LMM was tryna do there

- “Washington cannot be left to his devices indescisive, from crisis to crisis” — sweet baby jesus that alliteration, and jon rua totally pulled it off (i hate General Charles Lee not the person who played him, i can also appreciate the fact that as an actor it takes a lot of talent to be able to make you hate a character so easily, also shoutout to Jonathan Groff as King Georgey-Boy™️, Sydney James Harcourt as james reynolds, and the general way LMM somehow made me fed up/turn on Alexander with the whole scene with him and Maria Reynolds — and not only that but somehow redeemed himself to me which is easier said than done for characters and people alike.. i’ve been hurt too much to play like that.

- Act 1: 15. Ten Duel Commandments

- honorable mention: “if you don’t reach peace, that’s alright. time to get some pistols and a doctor on site. you pay him in advance, you treat him with civility. you have him turn around so he can have deniability.”

- Act 1: 17. That Would Be Enough

- honorable mention: the melody that LMM went with for that turn of phraseis a truly beautiful thing

- “Immigrants:” — “We get the job done.”

- THE FACT THAT MY MAIN MAN HERCULE MULLIGAN WAS ON THE INSIDE NOT ONLY DID I CALL IT BUT DAMN HE REALLY GOT THAT GOOD HOT TRIBUTE HE DESERVED

- “To my brother’s a revolutionary covenant! I’m runnin’ with the sons of liberty and I am lovin’ it! See, that’s what happens when you up against the ruffians. We’re in the shit now, somebody gotta shovel it! Hercules Mulligan, I need no introduction, when you knock me down I get the fuck back up again!”

- Act 1: 21. What Comes Next

- honorable mention: “i’m so blue” — the little squat that Groffsauce does as the light turns blue really got to me

- Act 1: 22. Dear Theodosia

- Leslie Odom Jr.’s voice is so ding dang delightfully airy

- honorable mention: “You have my eyes. You have your mother’s name. When you came into the world, you cried and it broke my heart.”

- Act 1: 23. Non-Stop

- as someone with siblings i can appreciate that they’re bickering like that’s just what they are

- “I was chosen for the constitutional convention! *squeal*”

- “Burr, we studied and we fought and we killed for the notion of a nation we now get to build. For once in your life, take a stand with pride. I don’t understand how you stand to the side.”

- Act 2: 1. What’d I Miss?

- honorable mention: “But the sun comes up and the world still spins.”

- Act 2: 2. Cabinet Battle #1

- honorable mention: “DOIN’ WHATEVER THE HELL IT IS YOU DO IN MONTICELLO!”

- tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

- “Daddy, daddy, look.... My name is Philip. I am a poet. I wrote this poem just to show it. And I just turned nine. You can write rhymes but you can’t write mine.” - “What!” - “I practice French and play piano with my mother.” — “Uh-huh!” — “I have a sister but I want a little brother.” — “Okay!” — “My daddy’s trying to start America’s bank. Un deux trois quatre cinq!” — “Bravo!” — “Hey, our kid is pretty great.”

- as much as i hate Act 2: 4. Say No To This (because for some reason i though Alexander Hamilton was better than that) Jasmine Cephas Jones sings in it is like a hot knife through butter — namely; “My husband’s doin’ me wrong beatin’ me, cheatin’ me, mistreatin’ me...”... I guess maybe I understand it ‘cause damn Jasmine Cephas Jones is so ding dang pretty and ding dang talented and wow what a remarkable person

- the way that Lin says “And her body’s saying, ‘hell, yes’ is um.. 😓

- “You see, that was my wife you decided to” — “Fuuuu—“

- Act 2: 5. The Room Where It Happens

- honorable mention: “Bros.”

- “Talk less. Smile more.” LMM being a dramatic bastard

- Act 2: 6. Schuyler Defeated

- Act 2: 7. Cabinet Battle #2

- “revolution is messy but now is the time to stand."

- honorable mention: “Ooh!!”

- “We signed a treaty with a King whose head is now in a basket. Would you like to take it out and ask it? ‘Should we honor our treaty, King Louis’ head?’ ‘Uh... do whatever you want, I’m super dead.’”

- Thomas Jefferson all like “but sir do we not fight for freedom” MY BAD SIR YOU ARE A SLAVE-OWNER HOW ABOUT YOU NOT

- mentioning Lafayette because apparently LMM has no problem with breaking the fourth wall

- “Daddy’s calling.”

- “I’m in the cabinet. I am complicit in watching him grabbin’ at power and kiss it. If Washington isn’t gon’ listen to disciplined dissidents, this is the difference. This kid is out!”

- “Southern motherfuckin’ Democratic-Republicans!”

- “The emperor has no clothes.”

- “Sir, I don’t know what you heard but whatever it is Jefferson started it.” — “Thomas Jefferson resigned this morning.” — “You’re kidding.” — “I need a favor.” — “Whatever you say, sir, Jefferson will pay for his behavior.” — “I’ll use the press. I’ll write under a pseudonym, you’ll see what I can do to him—“ — “Yes! He resigned you can finally speak your mind!” — “Ha. Good luck defeating you, sir.” - “I’m sorry, what?”

- Act 2: 10. I Know Him

- “—Vice President.” — “— No more Mr. Nice President.”

- “Sit down, John, you fat motherf—“

- Act 2: 12. We Know

- honorable mention: “You see that was my wife you decided to—“ — “WHAT—“

- Act 2: 13. Hurricane

- Act 2: 14. The Reynolds Pamphlet

- honorable mention: *DEEP VOICE* “DAMN”

- Act 2: 15. Burn

- i’ll be the first to say i wasn’t a huge fan of Eliza at first aside from Phillipa Soo’s killer voice

- this gave me a lot of respect for her

- honorable mention: “You have married an Icarus. He has flown too close to the sun.”

- Act 2: 16. Blow Us All Away

- i would like to point out that tweet where someone @‘s LMM about not mentioning Philip’s hot and he responds “I’M FAIRLY F**CKING SURE I DID”, y’know ⤵️

- “The ladies say my brain’s not where the resemblance stops.”

- “God, you’re a fox.”

- Act 2: 17. Stay Alive (Reprise)

- The ‘I know, I know. Shh.’ and the full circle back to his mom teaching him french on the piano really got to me for the beautiful artistry in it but also damn them feels

- Act 2: 18. It’s Quiet Uptown

- “I spend hours in the garden. I walk alone to the store and it’s quiet uptown. I never liked the quiet before. I take the children to church on Sunday, a sign of the cross at the door, and I pray. That never used to happen before.”

- “Philip, you would like it uptown. It’s quiet uptown.”

- “You knock me out, I fall apart.”

- “Eliza, do you like it uptown? It’s quiet uptown.”

- “There are moments that the words don’t reach. There is suffering too terrible to name. You hold your child as tight as you can and push away the unimaginable. The moments when you’re in so deep it feels easier to just swim down.”

- “There are moments that the words don’t reach. There is a grace too powerful to name. We push away what we can never understand. We push away the unimaginable.”

- “Can you imagine?”

- Act 2: 19. The Election of 1800

- honorable mention: “And they say I’m a Francophile: at least they know I know where France is!”

- “You used to work on the same staff” — “Whaaaat.”

- “Honestly, it’s kind of draining.” — “Burr...” — “Sir!” — “Is there anything you wouldn’t do?” — “No. I’m chasing what I want. And you know what?” — “What?” — “I learned that from you.” / this moment made the blow that he voted for Jefferson like a damn hole in my chest and i actually really felt for Burr. i get Hammy’s reluctance, i think if anything he was hoping voting for Jefferson would give Burr the chance to have experience as VP and then the next election he might vote for him then depending

- Act 2: 20. Your Obedient Servant

- A. Burr

- A. Ham

- “I just need to write something down.” / really resonated as one of the last things they showed him doing before going off to the duel, his life really was writing and that was the perfect way to say that in a very subtle sort of way. i really appreciate it artistically, whether it was intentionally so or not.

- Act 2: 22. The World Was Wide Enough

- okay but first of all i would like to comment on the fact that Ariana DeBose PLAYS THE GODDAMN BULLET, I JUST

- THE FACT THAT THE BULLET HAS A PART

- “This man will not make an orphan of my daughter.” / this made me really sympathize with Burr, as well as when he tries to go towards Hamilton (at least in the play but I sincerely hope that was historically accurate) / but also that fact that Theodosia Burr was lost at sea at 29 makes me sad because Hamilton’s life was taken to give her one and then she just up and disappears in a freak accident

- Act 2: 23. Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story

- the orphanage got to me

- i loved that he (LMM) didn’t end it with himself or anything

- he let Phillipa Soo tear my heart out

- it killed me but i died quite happily

- and really what more could you ask for.

#okay so #i know thw subheaders are probably grossly uneven #but like #i had to space manually #and this already took a lot of time to do #so i couldn’t give two fucks #lin manuel miranda #hamilton #hamilton film #daveed diggs #jonathan groff #anthony ramos #christopher jackson #jasmine cephas jones #leslie odom jr #leslie odom junior #ariana debose #jon rua #hamilfilm #shit i lost steam to tag cast members #you know and if you don’t look it up so you do #that’s how you learn shit like that the bullet had its own fucking role #the orphanage part also hurt because i was disowned by my father and then disowned by my mother (again) and then my father just decided he #wanted back in on my life #my shit family life has cast me out of my family #i feel like an orphan except i can’t be adopted #even though i want more than anything to have parents or parental figures #sadly my dad just isn’t #he kind of ruined that for me when he screamed me into a panic attack that almost killed me and then left the front door open to tell me to #get out

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noreasonjustbored · 4 years

Text

Don’t Dress Up As My Enemy

Hi guys! I’ve been working on this since a few days before Halloween and I just finished it. Sorry, it was supposed to be a Halloween one shot but I hope you still enjoy. If you would like to be added to my tag list for future writing, please let me know by responding to this post.

Tag List:

@mychenrymadness @up-the-tube @heyimtavia @adorkable-blackgirl @henryhearts

————————————-

“So what should we be for Halloween this year?” Henry asks Charlotte who was at the monitor. “I was thinking like Sandy and Danny from Grease or even better, Brittany and Justin in those denim outfits. I look gooooodddd in denim.”

“I do look great in denim. But no.”

“Alright, what about the Disney route? Princess Tiana and Prince Naveen?”

“Uhhhh...” Charlotte hesitates.

“Ariel and Eric?”

Charlotte turns away from what she was looking at and spins the chair around to face Henry who is sitting on the couch. She shakes her head.

“John Lennon and Yoko Ono? You like the Beatles, right?”

“Yeah the Beatles are cool. But something’s off.”

“Off? What do you mean by off?” Henry wonders.

“I don’t know, I just don’t like those options. Any other suggestions?”

“Okkkkk...How about the Joker and Harley Quinn?”

“Eww no, their whole dynamic was toxic” Char replies instantly.

“Oh! How about Barbie and Ken? We are totally hot enough to pull that off!”

“Yeeaaahh I don’t think so. Anything else?”

“Wow you’re being so picky this year. What about Red and Abe from Us? Super scary. Plus red jumpsuits and scissors should be easy enough.”

“That would be pretty simple to put together but it’s not doing it for me.”

“Well do you have any ideas?” Henry poses exasperatedly.

At that moment the elevator opens and Jasper pops out. “Guys, guess what I got?”

“A snake?” “A new bucket?” They respond simultaneously.

“No! It’s wands! I figured that we could be Harry Potter characters for Halloween this year. Charlotte can be Harry!”

“Jasper!” Char exclaims. “That’s what was missing! None of those choices had a good option for him, that’s why I didn’t like them.”

“What are we talking about?” Jasper asks curiously.

“Nothing, Henry was just suggesting different costumes for us but they were only for two people” she clarifies.

Jasper turns to Henry, “You didn’t include me in your planning?”

Looking like a deer caught in the headlights Henry stammers out, “No, buddy! I totally thought about you!”

“Really?” Jasper asks Henry with an eyebrow raised. “Hey Charlotte, name one of the ideas he gave you.”

“Barbie and Ken.”

“The iconic duo. Anything else?”

“Ummm...guys I don’t think that this-“

“No Char, I want to know. What was another option?” Jasper asks seriously.

Charlotte sighs but decides to answer his question. “Tiana and Naveen. The main characters from the Princess and the Frog.”

“Oh really?” Jasper looks back at Henry who is now looking guilty. “And who was I going to be Hen?”

Henry looks everywhere expect at Jasper. “Louis the Alligator?”

“Louis the- wowww okay. If you didn’t want to dress up with me this year dude you could’ve just said something.”

“Of course I want to dress up with you! I just forgot. Temporarily.”

“Yeah sure, well thank you to Charlotte for being a good friend and thinking about me.”

“Dude I’m sorry. It’s not like that. Can I...talk to you for a minute?”

“We’re talking right now.”

“I mean alone. Just, come upstairs to Junk and Stuff with me.”

“Are you sure you want to talk to ME and not Charlotte?”

“Leave me outta this.” Charlotte piped up, facing the monitors at the console once again.

“Look, just meet me up there. Okay?” Henry pleaded.

“I’ll think about it” Jasper huffed.

After Henry took the elevator up to the store, Jasper plopped down onto the couch with a long sigh. “You know this is your fault.”

Knowing that they were the only two remaining in the ManCave, Charlotte assumes that Jasper was addressing her.

“What’s my fault?” she inquires while rising from her seat and walking to the couch to sit down next to her friend.

Jasper seems to disconnect from reality, staring blankly at nothing. It’s as if he is in a trance. Then he starts to speak.

“Before you came into the picture, Henry and I were thick as thieves. Practically inseparable. We did everything together. There were no doubts about our friendship. And then one day while we were playing, Henry saw you. A tiny girl with a book that was half her body weight, sitting on the swing set. You were rocking gently back and forth. Not too high, not too hard. Henry thought it was awesome that you could swing and read at the same time.”

“That took a second to master, it made me motion sick at first.” Charlotte says lightly amused.

“He saw some kind of wild flower next to the sandbox and picked it for you. And when he gave it to you he said it was because doing two things at once made you ‘the coolest person he had ever met’. When you accepted it, you said that the type of flower was a daisy. You asked him if he knew that daisies could symbolize true love and new beginnings? Henry said that he didn’t know those things but thought it was very smart that you did. You thanked him for the flower and asked where he had gotten it from. When he pointed by the sandbox you were confused because you didn’t see any other flowers there. You told him that daisies usually grow in clusters and it was strange that the flower as alone.”

“That was weird, daises typically grow in groups.” Charlotte mumbles softly.

“Do you remember Henry saying that the flower was like you? Because you were by yourself? He said that he could be a part of your cluster. So you wouldn’t have to be alone anymore. And the whole time this was happening, I was right there. A few feet away, watching. Not knowing how to contribute to the conversation my best friend up and left me to have with this random girl.”

“I didn’t know you were there.”

“Well I was. You know, I think that day started his love affair with flowers. He was so impressed that you knew exactly what type it was and that you knew so many facts about it. And he wanted to be liked you in that way. You inspired him. I don’t think I’ve ever inspired anything that Henry’s done.”

“Jasper....”

“It’s okay. I’ve mostly accepted the fact that I’ll never be as important to him as you are.”

“Hey listen, you are important to him. I know that Henry loves you. You guys were friends before I even came into the picture, there had to be a connection there. You’re just a little hurt right now because he wasn’t thinking things completely through earlier. But come on, it’s Henry. Not thinking things through is basically one of his personality traits.”

“Yeah I guess” Jasper sighs. “I’m just sick of feeling like I’m the only one invested in our friendship.”

“Have you spoken to Henry about how you feel?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Well maybe you should.”

“I know.”

It’s silent for a moment. “Uggghhhh” Jasper groans in frustration. “I’m so sorry Charlotte, I know it’s not your fault that I feel this way. It was just easier to blame you than face the fact that I might be losing my best friend.”

“It’s okay Jasper. I understand where you are coming from. Believe it or not, I’ve felt like this before too. Henry and I were way closer in middle school before you found out he was Kid Danger. We spent so much time together at school and then here at work. Secrets bind people together. So whenever you were let in on the secret, we lost some of that closeness and everything changed. Instead of it being just the two of us, it felt like the two of you and then me. It was like I barely hung out with him anymore because you were always there. Henry spent so much of his time showing you all the cool tech stuff and explaining how everything worked in the ManCave, things I already knew about. For a while it was rough for me. It was like I was alone in a room full of people trying to figure out where I fit in.”

“I never knew you felt like that.”

“Yeah. That feeling of neglect was real. Because while we were friends, neither one of us were as close to each other as we were with Henry. That is, until we started spending more time together when Henry and Ray were on missions. We built our friendship stronger and bonded without Henry. He had always been the glue. Then, we created our own glue. And I’m so glad that we did. You are my best friend. That statement doesn’t lose any value just because it’s also true for Henry. The same thing applies to us. Henry loves you. You should go talk to him.”

“I will. Thanks Char.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Hug?”

“Just this once.”

“Yay!” Jasper said as he scooped his smaller friend in his arms, squeezing tightly.

Charlotte patted him awkwardly on the back. “Okay that’s enough.”

Upstairs, Henry was at the register cashing out a customer when Jasper came from behind the beaded curtain. After he handed the person their change, he turned to his friend. “Listen Jasper, I’m sorry man. I didn’t mean to-“

“No Henry, you listen to me for once. I know you didn’t mean to hurt my feelings.”

“Exactly! My bad I’m just so into-“

“Hold up. As I was saying, I know you didn’t mean to hurt my feelings. But you did. You hurt my feelings today when you didn’t include me in your costume plans, especially since we dressed up as a group last year. That hurt man. And you know what that reminded me of? That time I asked you how long you thought you could keep a secret from your best friend and your response was, ‘Oh, Charlotte knows’. It didn’t even cross your mind that I meant me. That I was your best friend.”

“Dude...”

“I’m just saying Henry. For a hero, you sure know how to hurt people.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Listen. Of course Charlotte is my best friend, but so are you. I know that sometimes I don’t show you the appreciation you deserve. I am truly sorry. You’ve been such a constant in my life that I just assume you know how much I care about you. I should tell you more often, that’s on me. I love you man. Forgive me?”

Jasper stared at Henry with a stoic face for a tense twenty seconds before caving.

“Of course. That’s all I wanted to hear” Jasper said before giving him a big bro hug.

“So the costume thing really was you just being obtuse without realizing, Charlotte was right” Jasper said mostly to himself.

“Well” Henry says in his signature high pitched voice.

“What is it?”

“Um, you see, Ikindawantedtowearacouple’scostumewithCharbecauseImighthaveacrushonher.”

“Huh?”

“I saaaaaiiiiddd, I kinda wanted to wear a couple’s costume with Char because I might have a crush on her. I figured if we had matching costumes, when people commented on them I could look at her reaction to try and gauge if she liked me back.” Henry responds while looking at the floor and scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“Really?” Jasper said excitedly.

Henry whips his head back up to see Jasper beaming at him.

“You’re not like, mad? Because you just went on this whole tangent about how I like her more than you...”

“No this is great! Honestly. I’ve always known that you like her more than me. My problem was that I don’t like it when you treat her like she’s your only best friend and leave me out completely. Plus, you’ve liked her ever since you gave her that flower when we were kids. You stare at her like she hung the moon. And...her contact name in your phone has been Daisy since you got a phone. You’re completely obvious dude.”

“Okayyy, geez. I didn’t know I was so transparent. I just realized this like a few weeks ago.” Henry says.

“You poor sap. Well come on, I’ll help you get your girl” Jasper replies as they walk to the back and push the button for the elevator.

“How are you gonna do that? My costume idea backfired.”

“Yeah she is definitely not going to leave me out after our talk.” Jasper says.

Henry sighs in defeat.

“Hmmmm...oh, I got it! We can still do Harry Potter but instead I’ll be Harry, Charlotte can be Hermoine.”

“And I can be Ron!” Henry concludes excitedly.

“Yeah exactly! That way, you can still technically have a couple’s costume. Even though we both know if anyone was gonna save the world it would definitely be her” Jasper muses.

“This is true.” Henry agrees as they both step into the elevator.

#Chenry #Henry Danger #Charlotte Page #Henry Hart #Jasper Dunlop #Charlotte Bolton #Kid Danger #Henlotte #Riele Downs #Jace Norman #Sean Ryan Fox #Nickelodeon #Halloween

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daydream-hobii · 5 years

Text

Shadows & Wolfsbane | Chapter 8

Genre: Poly!AU; Werewolf!AU; Shapeshifter!AU; Fluff; Angst

Pairing: BTS x Female!Reader; Alpha!Reader, Beta!Seokjin, Alpha!Yoongi, Alpha!Hoseok, Alpha!Namjoon, Omega!Jimin, Beta!Taehyung, Beta!Jungkook

Summary: Y/N is the youngest Alpha in her compound, owning a whole village. She was born by two Omegas, and originally wanted to be killed, but things were changing in her universe. At the end of the year, each Alpha can pick up to 30 new warriors, wolves that have been training, and the youngest always starts. Y/N never really chooses, asks for the ones who were unwanted such as the old or disabled. This time, she picks the strongest seven players among the warriors, and the other Alphas aren’t too happy, but she chose them for other reasons…. Hopefully, they’ll help her with the predicament she’s found herself in….

Warning: Mentions of Abuse, Sexual Assault, Depression, Anxiety; Suggestions of Smut; Read with caution <3

Word Count: 1,425

// Previous // Next //

Author’s Note: Welcome to Chapter 8! Please let me know what you think of this chapter, I love getting feedback! I hope you enjoyed it!!! ^_^

The sun hit my eyes the next morning, making me stir in my sleep. Warm arms encased me on each side and, just for a second, I thought I was safe. Even though we slept apart, we all ended up clinging to each other. The reality of the night before hit me and I opened my eyes, staring at the man in front of me. Taehyung was sleeping peacefully, his breathing steady. A feeling I had never felt before rolled through my body, my heart feeling as light as a feather.

I reached my hand out, hesitating only for a second before tracing his jawline. Taehyung seemed to let out a little purr in his sleep, his arms tightening around me. A second pair of arms pulled me back, and I knew it was Jimin.

“You let them stay in bed with you?!” Jungkook exclaimed at the door, making me sit up fast, embarrassment settling in my bones.

Taehyung rolled off the bed in shock, making me yelp in surprise before smirking and leaning over, staring at his pouting face and crossed arms. Jimin was just as surprised at the loud noise, but he calmed down before either of us.

“Thank you for ruining my warmth,” Jimin grumbled, stretching.

“We enjoy doing just that,” Yoongi said, rolling his eyes. Namjoon eyes us, and I looked down, biting my lip.

“I got a little scared, and couldn’t sleep,” I mumbled, looking back at them. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Namjoon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We’ve been wanting to sleep in bed with you since we started staying here,” Hoseok said, smirking, making me shake my head and close my eyes.

“This isn’t happening,” I whispered, sighing.

“What’s that smell…?” Jimin asked, scrunching up his nose. Wolves could smell people’s pheromones, and mine were off the chart.

“Holy shit!” Seokjin said, wide eyed and staring at me. He knew the smell well.

“Say a word and I’ll kill you right here,” I growled, making the others raise an eyebrow. Seokjin smirked, shrugging his shoulders.

“Just tell me which one?” Seokjin asked, continuing to smirk. My eyes darted to the side, towards Taehyung, and Seokjin smiled bigger. “Oh, yeah, it’s only a matter of time.”

“Shut up,” I said, rolling my eyes and crawling out of bed towards my bathroom. “Go get ready, you’re just training with me today.”

I was walking down the street in my workout clothes. I said hello to everyone that passed by, arriving at the arena to practice. I had a lot of thoughts going through my head, and felt so alone, but I knew I wanted to train, prepare myself for whatever future.

I walked into the arena, walking to my private training area where the boys all sat around, stretching and chatting. I had no doubt Seokjin told the Alpha’s about the mating pheromone he smelled off me since they were smirking at me. Fantastic, just what I wanted.

“We’re starting with Jimin and Jungkook,” I said, cracking my neck and walking to the middle. They raised an eyebrow, walking close to me as I stared at them. “I want you to shift.”

“You want to see our wolf forms?” Jimin asked, wide eyed.

“Of course I do, I need to know what I’m working with,” I replied, nodding.

Jungkook swiftly shifted into his wolf form, Jimin close behind. Since Jimin was an Omega, he was a smaller wolf compared to Jungkook’s Beta form. Jimin was a gorgeous light grey wolf, his eyes matching his coat. Jungkook, however, was a light brown wolf, his eyes a beautiful blue green. His tongue lolled out in a smile as I rolled my eyes.

“Hoseok, would you mind shifting?” I asked, making him step forward and nod.

His form, being an Alpha, was almost double the size of the other two. Each wolf was larger in form than the animal, but everyone knew their status by their size. Hoseok was an orange and white wolf, making my eyebrows rise in surprise. This was a coat I haven't seen before, and it was gorgeous. His yellow eyes squinted slightly with happiness.

“Okay. Seokjin and Namjoon, please,” I said, crossing my arms.

Namjoon was just a little bigger than Hoseok, Seokjin a little bigger than Jungkook. Namjoon was a darker grey than Jimin, and had blood red eyes. Seokjin was a blonde and white wolf with golden eyes. When I nodded to Yoongi and Taehyung, they knew the drill.

Yoongi was the smallest of the three Alphas, and Taehyung was the largest of the Betas. Yoongi was a black wolf, one who could easily blend in with the night. His eyes were red, like Namjoon’s, but his were deeper… darker…. Taehyung was a white wolf with a blonde undertone, his eyes a light blue. I smiled at them as they all stood together.

I took my turn, shifting into my wolf. The mirrors around showing my form, making my head nod. I was a pure white wolf, my eyes yellow with a black outline. The boys eyes were wide staring at me. I was bigger than all of them, even the male Alphas.

“Woah, Y/n,” I heard Namjoon’s voice in my head.

“Ever wonder why there's a law permitting female Alpha’s to shift?” I asked, sending the thought through their minds. “Alpha females are a lot bigger than the males.”

“I’ve never seen an Alpha female shift!!” Jungkook exclaimed.

“This male dominance thing is real old,” Yoongi growled, his form snarling.

I walked over to a large garage like door, pressing my nose on the button. It opened to reveal the woods that surrounded out community. I took a deep sniff, taking in the scents from the outside. I could hear a collective gasp through my head.

“Is that…” Seokjin started.

“Outside of the community?!” Hoseok howled, tongue lolling out.

“It is,” I replied, smirking. “Catch me if you can!”

I booked it out the door, sprinting away from the community. I could hear them hot on my tail, their forms quiet and swift, but my mind filling with hoots and hollers. Their surprise was something I expected, they’ve probably never been in these woods.

Another law was placed that states you cannot leave the community walls unless a soldier going to war/on patrol or an Alpha/Council Member going to another community. Each village may have it’s own wall, but the villages are connected by more walls so the community is one big circle. I’m a bit of rebel, if I do say so myself.

I made it to my favorite spot, a cliff that was a couple miles from the village. Our speed was faster than most, allowing us to get here within ten minutes. I was panting as I went and sat at the edge, staring out into the woods that surrounded our community. It was still early in the morning, so the sun could still be seen in front.

Hoseok came and sat next to me, licking my cheek. Thank god wolves can’t flush. The other boys were around us, staring into the scenery, absorbing it.

“This is everything I’ve ever dreamed about…” Taehyung whispered.

“I like to come here to think, when being an Alpha gets too much,” I replied, sighing.

“Alpha,” A new voice entered my head, and I turned to see my first Beta hustling to my side, eyes filled with despair.

“What is it?” I asked, standing and facing him.

“Louis is here,” He said, frowning. “He wants to plan the wedding.”

“Oh… alright, I’ll be there in a minute,” I whispered, making him nod.

“I told him you were showering, so you should be alright,” The Beta said, nodding running back towards the village.

I watched him leave, a feeling of sorrow settling over me. Shouldn’t a wedding make you happy…? I looked back out to the woods, listening to the birds for a minute. A whine sounded beside me, and I looked to see Jimin lay his head against my shoulder.

“Don’t go,” He said.

“I have to, he’ll get suspicious,” I said, frowning. “You guys can stay, just be back before lunch.”

“Y/n,” Hoseok said as I turned. His snout was almost touching my own. “Please… marry me.”

It was merely a whisper, but my heart stopped all the same. The others heard it and was staring at me with hopeful eyes. Panic settled into my bones, thoughts rolling through my head.

“I… I can’t,” I said, turning to the village and sprinting back.

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shipppersrus · 5 years

Text

The Kids Are Alright- Episode 1, Part 3

Possible trigger warning for a character mentioned who committed suicide.

Rated T

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

A/N:

This chapters discusses sexuality and sex.

This chapter discusses suicide. Trigger Warning

I grabbed my crutches and we all made our way to the couch. Louis sat my crutches down while I took a seat, once he sat I cuddled up next to him. Ruby, Asaim, Violet, came to play this go round. Louis dealt out the cards and apparently today we were playing War. We all put out our cards and Asaim scored the highest card with Louis scoring the lowest.

“Alright Asaim what is something you’ve been dying to know?” Louis awaited.

“When did this happen.” He pointed between him and I.

“I’m irresistible obviously. Brains, brawn, my dashing good looks, wonderful sense of humor; how could she resist.” Louis stated.

“Sure Louis, now tell us the real story.” Violet flight.

“I’m serious! Clem confessed her undying love for me, we shared a kiss and now she’s all about the Lou.” He pulled me tighter in his embrace.

“Clem is that true?” Vi studied my face.

“I wouldn’t say my undying love, but yeah I guess I made the first move.” My cheeks started to grow warm thinking of the moment that felt like forever ago.

“Like I said I’m irresistible.” He kissed the top of my head.

“Oh come on Lou, everyone knows you were head over heels for Clem since she got here this just proves that you didn’t have the balls to make the first move.” Vi called him out while everyone else giggled in agreement.

“Or I’m a gentleman and wouldn’t impose myself on a women who could probably rip my throat out with her bare hands.” Louis fought back.

“Alright, Alright guys next question.” Asaim asserted as we all drew or next card. This time I drew the highest card and Ruby drew the lowest.

“Poor sweet Ruby, come on Clem give her a good one.” Louis encouraged me.

“Alright Ruby, so how did Asaim pull you in?” I couldn’t help my curiosity.

“Well after the fight maybe a week later I found the sweetest poem on my dresser and it made my heart swell.” She grabbed his hands.

“I guess I owe Louis a thank you, I’m not giving it to you but it’s owed.” Asaim chimed in.

“Wait what did Louis have to do with it?” He never told me any of this.

“Well that love letter would of never seen the light of day if it wasn’t for me. I found it in the trashcan in our room and thought it was too good to waste.” Louis was all too proud of himself.

“More like rummaged through our trash can, but sure.”Asaim rolled his eyes.

“Well look at you now, you’re a taken man.” Louis gave him a wink. We all continued on to the next swipe of cards. This time Louis got to ask Violet a question.

“So Vi since we’re talking about love, would you say you’ve ever been in love?” Louis asked her.

“Obviously Minnie was my first everything. I remember our first kiss like it was yesterday, we were up the tower looking at the clouds and I kissed her. I was so scared but when she kissed me back I knew I was in love with her. It’s funny too cause when I saw her again alive and well all those feelings came rushing back but as soon as we spoke, the way she looked at me it was all different; almost like she was a new person and we never had known each other at all.” Violet player with her boots.

“I’m sorry Vi I didn’t mean to bring up dark memories.” Louis shifted on the couch.

“It’s not really dark if you think about it Minnie now and Minnie then we’re two different people. The end of the world has a way of changing people, I just wish I knew that before I went partially blind.” Vi half smiled. “I’m sorry again Clem. You has to make a tough call and I shouldn’t of said all those harsh things to you or tried to fight you when you came back to save us.”

The group grew silent as we all just sat there. That’s when Aj came running out the building.

“Louis it’s done!” Aj was jumping for joy.

“Perfect timing.” Louis stood up letting me fall back on the couch.

“Perfect timing for what?” I was confused. That’s when Louis picked me up and carried me to what seemed like the music room.

“Okay Clem close your eyes.” I thought about putting up a fight but decided not to. What were him and Aj up to.

Aj ran ahead of us as the cold from outside deserted my body to the weakness of the Admin Building. I felt Louis turn and it felt like we were in the music room. I could tell by the musty smell and the tingling feeling I got every time I thought about the moment I shared with Louis in here. When you start falling for someone everything feels familiar in the sense of the places you guys go together and the music room was filled with Louis. He finally put me down as I leaned my body weight on him.

“Now open.” I opened my eyes and the room was filled with pillows and red candles. The set up was very romantic. “Alright little man, thanks for all the help! This is where we part ways.” Louis set himself up for a high five.

“Wait, I can’t stay?” Aj’s fave dropped.

“First Clem and I need to talk then you can come back.” Louis smiles assuringly.

“Ok hurry up and talk I’ll be right on the stairs waiting!” Aj started to take off.

“Or you can draw up the best picture ever!” Louis encourages.

“Ok!” Aj says enthusiastically.

Louis helped me sit down on the soft pillow lay out as gently as he could. Him and Aj doing all this for me almost brought tears to my eyes. After Louis helped me he headed to the piano and reached behind it bringing over two rusted cans of soda and a chocolate bar.

“Wow where did you get these?!” I was completely surprised.

“I found these on my way home the night you- well anyway I found them and thought i’d save them for our real first technically second date.” He winked and sat right next to me.

“Lou I don’t know what to say.” I bit my lip. The emotions I felt were indescribable.

“Speechless I like it.” I could tell he was nervous. I leaned in to kiss him and he returned my gesture. It was simple yet so meaningful.

“Aren’t you going to open them.” I was ready to eat chocolate for the first time since forever.

“Whoa hold your horses Clem, you always have to save the best for last.” Louis got up and headed to the piano. “I want to play you the song I made for you, I added words to it, then if you think it’s completely terrible you’ll forget once you have the chocolate.” How could I ever think anything he’s done for me is terrible, he’s absolutely delusional. I listened as he took a deep breath.

The day you walked through those doors

My whole life changed evermore

You saw through my bullshit

And you’re with me through it

Thank you for your love

Your amber eyes are worth more than gold

They carry the secrets never told

I promise to protect you

I promise to love you

In a way you’ve never been before

Thank you Clem

You’re the light I never knew I was missin

Thank you Clem

I’ll protect you till my last breath

You deserve the world but till then here’s my hand.

I was speechless as the tears slipped down my cheek. I could never understand what I could do to deserve a guy like him. I searched and searched and searched for someplace safe to call a home where Aj could just be a kid without worrying about whatever waited on the other side but I never thought in a million years I would find this and more. I never thought I’d find someone who could make me smile without trying or someone who could care about Aj as much as I do. Someone who could love me for me, past the blood on my hands and the dirty laundry of the things i’ve done and now I have and nothing could of prepared me for this. I think I’m falling in love…

“Was it that bad… I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He sat next to me I could see his hand lightly trembling.

“Shut up.” I cupped his face and slowly brought his lips to mine. He kissed back the butterflies turning into heat. His hand dropped to my waist as he pulled me closer to him, I wrapped my arms around his neck trying to pull him closer to me even though there was no air between us. It was like my lips knew exactly what to do, even though I don’t. My body was tingly all over and I felt really hot like I had a fever but I didn’t want to pull away or let go I wanted this moment forever. We kept going for what felt like forever till we heard the door creak and immediately pulled away Louis jumping back what felt like 5 feet.

“My pictures ready!” Aj busted through. Both Louis and I fought to catch our breath.

“It looks so good little dude.” Louis chimed in as he tried to compose himself.

“You can’t even see it from over there.” Aj pouted.

“Aj could you give us 5 more minutes.” I couldn’t look at him right now I was too embarrassed.

“But Clem-” Aj whined.

“Just 5. I promise Aj.” I negotiated. He moped out of the room and closed the door. Louis and I maintained our 5 feet apart as we both tried to figure out what just happened. We both started talking at the same time and stopped as the awkward silence fell between us.

“I guess we should bust out the chocolate before he comes back out here.” Louis finally made his way to me. “I’m sorry if that was too much I don’t know what happened.”

“No! I mean don’t be sorry. I liked it, I think… I never felt like that before.” I played with my jacket button.

“Me too.” He smiled.

He handed me a chocolate bar and it had a note with my name on it with hearts all around. I looked at him as he he watched me patiently open it.

‘Will you be my girlfriend. - Louis’

“Louis.” My heart was beating faster than it had ever beaten before.

“Eat the chocolate for yes, and run away for no.” He awaited my answer. I took a bite of the chocolate and watched his face beam. “Is that a yes?”

“That’s a yes!” He embraces me. We kiss again and the knock was back once more. “ Come on in Aj!”

We cuddled up as Aj shared his drawing with us, I haven’t been this happy since before everything happened. The boys had the fire going and all rested in each other’s company listening to the fire tick. Aj laid in my lap as I rubbed through his kinky hair. We laid there until he was sleep, I dozed off for a bit to see Louis playing the piano. I slid Aj off my lap and picked up my crutches as I made my way to him. As I stood behind Louis I could feel something was wrong, I couldn’t imagine what could be wrong in these moments but then it occurred to me that our quietest moments are typically our darkest hours. I rubbed his back as I moved my crutches to sit down next to him. The sad tune he played told me everything I needed to know

“Hey.” I started.

“Hey.” He kept playing.

“Want to talk about it?” I leaned on his shoulder.

“I don’t think so.” He kept his head down focused on the keys.

“Ok.” I listened to him quietly playing as I thought about all the ways we were different yet the same.

Louis lives, I survive; but we both probably never thought the last time we’d see our parents would be the last time we’d see our parents. It reminded me of what Ben said about Kenny when we were talking once. We talked about how much we missed our parents, he understood me or at least that part of me. It’s hard not to know if they’re living or dead or something else… until you find out.

“Erin was my first crush.” Louis tapped one of the keys over and over.

“Did she go here?” I asked.

“Yeah. She was super quiet but I knew she had a lot to say. She has colorful braces, and the happiest smile.” He smiled at the thought.

“Did she have feelings for you as well?” I wondered.

“Maybe. It was hard to say, something happened in her past that would never let me know.”

“Wha- what happened to her?” I was hesitant to ask him.

“When it all started they went out searching for help, some of the kids. When they came back I guess she saw something that scared her and she slit her wrist. I found her bleeding out, I was too late. She left me a note, it said keep living and breathing; that they would need me. It said If they don’t someone will. That was at the start and it helps me not give up on the darkest of days. Now I have you.” He looked at me.

“I have you too.” He kissed my hand.

I woke up the next morning to see Aj’s bed empty. I assumed they headed out to find the group they saw. I thought about yesterday, how I craved Louis’s kiss and now his touch it made me uncomfortable and comfortable all at the same time. I’ve never needed someone like that before, it scared me. I started to think about what we did, what it meant… and I needed answers. I sat up and put my jacket on as I searched for Violet. I became panicked as I thought about that hot feeling I had, did I have sex?!

I made my way made my way to violet's room and slammed the door.

“Violet I think I had sex!” I held onto the door my eyes wide in shock.

“You what!” Violet sat up from her book shocked. “Wait you and Louis had sex, no way!” She didn’t believe me.

“Well I’m not sure actually… we were kissing last night and we kissed in ways that we never kissed before, it was with.” I mouthed the word tongue as Violet awaited me to keep going. “I got really hot and felt weird but like all over my body, and I didn’t want to stop.”

She stared at me like she was waiting for me to keep going.

“What else?” She pressed on.

“Well Aj busted in and I swear we almost ran away from each other.”

“Clem…” she rolled her eyes but in a full body eye roll.

“What?” I was genuinely confused.

“You and Louis didn’t have sex… well if Aj didn’t walk in you may have.” She continued reading.

“Well then what was it?” I sat on her bed looking for answers.

“You guys made out and you liked it, that’s all.” She continued in her book.

“Oh… sorry. I don’t know much about this type of stuff.” I was very embarrassed, I didn’t want to run around telling people we had sex when we didn’t.

“What do you know?” Violet gave me here attention.

“I know about periods, masturbation, and I thought I knew what sex was.”

“Oh boy. You have a lot to learn.” She sat up and faces me.

After my chat with Violet and her almost too vivid description I learned a lot. I learned about sexuality, and bases, hooking up and other stuff. She didn’t leave out one single detail. Most people didn’t like talking to me about it but Vi seemed completely comfortable teaching me. She answered most of my curious questions but also dodged a few.

I headed back to my room as I journaled some things. A knock on my door took me out of my thoughts and I invited the person in, it was Willy.

“There back! They have stuff.” Willy shouted and took off running I got my crutches and headed out to the courtyard.

Aj was the first in carrying lots of fruit with him. He ran and gave me a hug as he headed to set down the fruit. Louis was next holding a bag full of weapons on his shoulder and more food as well. Another person followed behind them, it was James. James was holding a crate of something. He stopped when he saw me and I approached him.

“I thought about what you said Clementine. Maybe you’re right. I’m sorry.” James was very empathetic.

I thought long and hard for a second. Should I throw him out, what if this is a trap to take Aj. Or what if he’s sincere.

“You’ll be safe here James.” I put my hand out for him to shake. He shook it and headed inside.

“It’s good to see you Clementine. I knew you’d make it.” That voice echoed through my brain as I recalled all the memories it carried. Clementine do this, do that. She almost had me die with Luke, then tried to steal the car right before Arvo shot me. Her red hair and pale skin stood in front of me. I reached for my knife and smacked her in the face with my crutch the proceeded to tackle her. I don’t even know how I was on top her but I was my raged spilled out.

“You bitch!” I was ready to stab her and put her out of her misery.

“Clementine!”

#clouis #clouis fanfiction #clouis fanfic #louisentine #louisentine fanfiction #louisentine fanfic #clementine x louis #louis x clementine #clementine #aj twdg #twdg aj #still not bitten #taks us back #twdg louis #louis twdg #twdg spoilers #twdg fanfiction #twdg fanfic

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letsgsantana · 4 years

Text

tagged: sam evans &. santana lopez

when: nov. 15th - 16th.

notes: discord text.

tana: the thigh hickey you gave me has almost disappeared.

tana: which means you need to re-up on moi.

tana: and I’m craving churros. Hot, from Ted’s by the cafeteria.

tana: and possibly you.

sam: churros and hickeys. what a combo

sam: anything else you want me to fetch you before i come and fuck you into the mattress?

tana: is your neck free for business, or is two o’clocks still ripe on there?

tana: wow, did you get that from some 80’s porn?

[a beat]

tana: and to return the favor I might have bought some coca-cola lip smacker for you to kiss off.

sam: you did a pretty good job the last time because it's still there for everyone to see

sam: it's annoying that no one believes that i burned myself on a curling iron sam: no, more like early 2000s amateur stuff

sam: oh, you're spoiling me here, santana

tana: I’ve always had a soft spot for ‘I was here’ tokens.

tana: that hair screams blow dry. That mark screams some A-list lips.

tana: awe, so the the golden age of porn, iyo?

tana: you’ve possibly earned a treat or two.

sam: you know, you're not as dominant in bed as you are on text

sam: i quite like this versatile santana that i'm getting

sam: thank you! that's what i keep saying! sam: care to give a hint of what those treats are?

tana: I'm lonely, so I sub out for a brat. [erased]

tana: you've caught me off-guard. And it's been a minute since I've had a hot minute.

tana: and you might be above average.

tana: and I haven't even showed you the beginning of what ten plus years of cheering has done for my versatility.

tana: either the baking kind, the me kind, and possibly an impression request kind.

[a moment later]

tana: or all of the above.

sam: i'm not at all complaining, i quite like taking charge. especially if it makes you beg

sam: oh, you need to show me soon, because i want to see this

sam: i can give you all three of those

sam: what impression would you like to see? i personally think a sean connery one would go down well with you

tana: a mess in life, and in-control in the bedroom? respect.

tana: i have a thing for dorks with big hands that feel good around my throat. tana: well, well, someone's working for that number one spot.

tana: are you trying to turn me on wit a sean connery impression?

[after a moment]

tana: explain.

sam: i gotta get something right, and with these lips, it was bound to be that sam: good, i wasn't sure if the choking was too much, but i'm glad to know that we were on the same page with that

sam: can't deny that i want to be your number one

sam: he's james bond, duh?

tana: you're in college, so at least you can add that to your list of accomplishments.

tana: if you saw my incognito google pop up, you'd blush, Sammy. It was just barely enough.

tana: moved on to porn with a touch of romcon? a hoe with a heart. my hero. tana: if this means I get to dress up as a bond girl and you never speak of this to anyone. I may be seriously entertaining this.

sam: i'm sure that the american museum of natural history will be impressed with the fact that i can make you cum three times with my mouth and another two times with my dick

sam: no? i think it might be time for us to welcome a safe word into this, because i don't want to hurt you

sam: some people would call it a gentleman in the street, a freak in the sheets, but a hoe with a heart does the job

sam: oh my god, yes please!

sam: also, i'm pretty sure just the sight of you being a bond girl would make me cum, so there's that

tana: well duh. It’s few and far between a woman gets that kind of pleasure from a man. Gotta mark it down when it does.

tana: jinxy. What do you think?

tana: i don’t think your hoe energy ever strays too far, so it’s best stick to factual nicknames.

tana: well, I do like cum. Especially yours.

sam: do i make the top ten list of best ginsburg lovers then?

sam: jinxy? i can work with jinxy

sam: then you haven't seen my gentlemanly ways - we can always change that if you want

sam: oh? what makes mine so special?

tana: no.

tana: and that's because I don't have a lovers list. But some of the best sex I've had here? Consider yourself lucky, because yes.

tana: also lovers list? what wattpad fanfic are you neck deep in, dork.

tana: I mean sure, but he better be just as hot and charmin-[erased]

tana: I wouldn't mind, as long as he's as hot as hoe sam.

tana: there's a lot and you look hot. and you've usually got my hair in your fist while you're cumming on my face.

sam: i'm flattered. /and/ it is definitely reciprocated. a lot

sam: "forbidden" - it's about harry styles and louis tomlinson. it's not very good though

sam: yeah, i think you're gonna see more of gentleman sam than hoe sam from now on

tana: I know.

tana: sounds terrible.

tana: why’s that?

sam: do you know tina cohen-chang?

tana: ya.

sam: yeah, i like her and i kinda fucked it up

tana: oh god.

tana: have you been sleeping with me while you’ve been with her?

tana: is that your girlfriend?

sam: she's not my girlfriend

sam: i'm sorry. you're not the only that i've been seeing. there's kinda been a lot of people

sam: i'm really sorry

tana: oh.

tana: well, if you’re single. Who cares.

tana: if I wanted to sleep with anyone else, I would have already. No apologies about it.

sam: it's more than that, you know? like, we've been going on dates.

sam: i just didn't realize that we were actually..."dating"

sam: you just deserve to know that

tana: you probably didn’t realize you were dating because you weren’t...

tana: why are so mopey, babe?

tana: you fucked around, and I guess accidentally got into a relationship.... tana: how long have even known tina?

tana: I’m just saying, people who jump into relationships in college usual need therapy, not a partner.

sam: we've known each other for like almost two months, which is ridiculous because i didn't want this to happen so fast, but like, guess my feelings just caught up with me one night

sam: oh, girl, if i could afford therapy i would've done it a long time ago. i've got some huge baggage

tana: you could save the date money to go to a therapy fund.

[.....]

tana: sam, you seem caught up in....something.

sam: that's probably the best advice anyone's given me lately

sam: no, i'm not caught up anymore, i got the zipper out of my nut

tana: looking back my reaction to your relationship might have not been the best. My bad. I should have just thrown

in response and be done with it, but. Like....

tana: you’re sleeping with everyone then suddenly in a relationship because you went on some dates and found out that meant you were dating someone... tana: sounds like deflecting and micro-managing in an unhealthy way.

tana: we were just talking about you giving me a facial. I’m just saying. That’s one hell of a turn around.

sam: it was never explicitly a relationship. we never said anything. and she'd hinted a couple of times at knowing about me seeing more people than just her sam: i told her that i was falling in love with her - it was incredibly random when i said it, i just blurted it out without even thinking about it, or ever having thought about it actually.

sam: and then she lost her virginity to me

sam: i don't know what's going on, i just know that i miss her

tana: you need to put down the watt pad fanfiction ‘cos it’s tripping your brain into thinking you’re in love with someone. missing someone doesn’t mean you should be in a relationship with them, it means you miss them.

tana: I’m just saying. Figure this out inline at the medi-whatever line for some healthcare, and fast track to a therapist office for an appointment. If you need company I’ll offer mine, and critics on your impressions. I’ll even bring the churros this time.

tana: but partying, sleeping around, then poking your head up from the land down under because you’ve randomly had the thought to love someone out of your line-up? Babe, just no.

tana: but most of all, breathe.

sam: It's not like that. Missing her means more to me than just that

sam: I don't know for sure if I'm falling in love with her - I think I am. Because I know I've never felt this way before about anyone. And it's confusing as hell, but she does make me feel a way that no one else has done before

sam: But I agree - it's gone way too fast. And no one seems to get that

[...]

sam: I don't particularly want to talk about this anymore though. I just want to know if you and I are still...okay? It might just be me, but it sounds like you wouldn't mind hanging out with me, even if I'm not fucking you

tana: how many times before have you said you liked a girl? And that it was more than any other of the girls before them?

tana: were you just dating her because she’s the only one who said yes, or because you only wanted to date her.

[.....]

tana: just think on it. And again, breathe. And stop randomly telling people you’re in love with them, amateur hour.

tana: I’m not sure yet. It might be hard for me to see you and not get wet. But maybe if you impress over text I’ll let you take me to get a beer so I can platonically roast you.

sam: This is the first time

sam: No, to start off, it was just a casual thing between us. She was obviously a virgin, but there were some pretty heavy make-out sessions going on. We made a deal, to get to know each other better - for her safety of not just losing her virginity to some random guy. And so we ended up just going on a lot of dates. I genuinely wanted to get to know her better

sam: I'm breathing. Thank you

sam: Just call me beef, because I'm yours to roast all day and all night, Santana

tana: sure jan.

tana: so you guys have rush delivered every step of the way. please don't get divorced before 25.

tana: you want to get to know everyone better. [erased]

tana: definitely not hanging out with you now that your 'beef' is off the table.

sam: She's not talking to me right now, so I don't think we gotta worry about that

sam: Listen, I was never that nasty. It was only on the kitchen counter those two times, and that was because you were wearing that red lacy thong and nothing else, and I've got a weak spot for that

tana: good.

tana: Well excuse me for picking up on how much you liked me spread. I thought the all access, all the time, with the crotchless red thongs would be appreciated.

tana: although, you still owe me a pair. You can gift those when you're single in a couple of weeks.

tana: if I don't like them, you can take them back. if I do, you can tell me if the guy I've replaced you with will. I'll even spread them for you.

sam: As much as I enjoy this conversation, I think it's time to shut it down

sam: Please do let me know if my replacement is any better than me though. I want to know if anyone can overtake these lips

tana: true, tell sean connery I said down boy.

tana: of course I will.

tana: what are you doing?

sam: Sean Connery? My dick?

sam: I just got back home, after practically following Tina around all day. Well, walking her to all of her classes and trying to get her to talk to me, but with my testicle still aching, I was more limping than anything else

sam: Probably just gonna put "Bob's Burgers" on and try and fall asleep to that. Maybe open a bottle of Jack.

sam: You?

tana: you do know that's creepy, not romantic.

tana: an entire bottle? stick to a cup. it's been a long day for you.

tana: I might go to an open mic night. People love vintage shit there and I need to peddle my shop some more.

sam: She went out last night, I got her a coffee this morning to hopefully make it better - I had a purpose, don't worry. It's not like I was stalking her

sam: Hmmmmmm, a bottle sounds more appetizing though

sam: Oh yeah? If you want to swing by afterwards, you're welcome to. We can just watch a movie or something

tana: this is so lame [erased]

tana: so not as creepy. good.

tana: sounds like alcohol poisoning.

tana: I don't know if you've proved movie only worthy. We'll see, evans.

sam: Not like full-on creepy. I try to only keep it semi-creepy

sam: Sounds like a good time

sam: Well, I guess I can also offer you a cup of Jack, if you want, so it's not just a movie that you came around for

tana: which is why you just need to be full-on single.

tana: also, question. why are you following her around like you have something to make up for?

tana: glutton for punishment?

tana: I haven't drank in a week. I'm a little scarred from post-halloween.

sam: I don't want to be

sam: Well, first of all, I hurt her. And now she's not really replying to my texts, in the sense that she's not.../talking/ to me or hearing me out. So, I figured it'd be easier if it was face to face. But it's not like she stopped to talk or anything

sam: Something like that

sam: Scarred? What are you scarred from?

tana: that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be.

tana: I know you hurt her, but again, why are you following her around like you need to make-up for something?

tana: you were single and hooked up with people.

tana: if she’s upset about that, that sucks, but that still doesn’t mean you did anything wrong.

tana: pick something other than alcohol.

tana: I was hungover all weekend. It sucked. I’m too weak for all that.

sam: I played her and made her feel like there was more between us, that's why sam: I did everything wrong, Santana

sam: Weed?

sam: You gotta end it where it started - with more alcohol. A cold beer the next morning is the only way to get through a bad hangover

tana: did you tell her you weren’t seeing anyone else? Or did she assume and set herself up for disappointment?

tana: I’m not saying you don’t suck, but it’s NOT all on you.

tana: I don’t like that she’s putting this all on you- [erased]

tana: I want to puke at the thought.

tana: which is why I’m detoxing with pot.

sam: I didn't say anything about seeing other people, but I also didn't say that I was only seeing her. She kept hinting at maybe knowing that she wasn't the only one, constantly reassuring me that I was the only one that she was seeing - despite going to the halloween party with Brody

sam: What makes you say that? What have I not done wrong?

sam: I can do weed. I mean, I'd probably still keep the bottle of Jack around, but I wouldn't drink all of it, y'know?

tana: sounds manipulative.

tana: hold on.

[**santana taps his icon and presses the call button. She brushes her hair behind her ear and traps her phone between her ear and shoulder as she pours some oatmeal in a bowl. When he picks up, she doesn’t spare him time for a hello-]

tana: you’re single, you fucked around. There’s nothing wrong that. Someone else’s assumptions and wants aren’t your problem. She was reassuring you because she wanted reassurance, which meant she knew you were fucking around.

tana: guilting you about it is wack, Sam. But next time don’t be so fast and loose with your dick.

[a beat]

tana: and next time don’t let someone convince you, you’re in the wrong for having a sexual appetite beyond them while you’re single. You didn’t play her, she played herself.

tana: oh, and hi. My fingers were hurting.

[Sam wasn't sure exactly what was happening. He was mid-reply, about to send Santana a confused text to what she was doing, when his screen changed and he saw that she was calling him instead. Sighing, he braced himself for what was about to come, clicked on the green phone to accept the call and opened his mouth to say hi, but was quickly cut off by Santana's rant. He wasn't quite sure what to say after everything that she'd told him, and was just silent for a bit]

sam: Hi

[He finally said, and sighed]

sam: I'm not entirely sure what you want me to say here. Several people are telling me that what I did was wrong- hell, I feel like what I did was wrong anyway. I know we never made it exclusive, but I did tell her something that sure as hell sounded like that was what we were

tana: what did you say, and when?

[Sam let out a deep sigh. This was probably the 20th time he explained it to someone]

sam: A couple of nights ago we went up on the rooftop of my apartment building to look at the stars, and she told me to tell her a secret. I'm not good with secrets, I either tell people everything, or I don't tell them at all. But, she was also kissing my neck and it was a lot, you know?

[Sam paused for a bit, bringing his hand up to rub his tired eyes]

sam: So I just blurted out that I was falling for her. I mean, if I was in her position, I would assume that it meant that the person was cutting off everyone else. Like, it's pretty serious, you know?

tana: babe. If tina didn’t know that a love confession from you didn’t mean you guys weren’t together, one, she doesn’t know you at all, whether she has a rolodex card of secrets on you or not. Two, that’s not how dating work. Case in point- you. And honestly, a lot of guys.

tana: so, again. You BOTH have your own parts in this train wreck. You randomly blurting out you love people for no reason, and her trying to manipulate her way to a relationship instead of being blunt and saying, ‘I want to be with you.’

sam: I don't know what to tell you, Tana

tana: why do you think you need to tell me something...? I’m comforting you, not the other way around.

[There was a silence as Sam took in what the girl had said, thinking it through.] sam: You're comforting me?

tana: rude! [she practically yelled]

tana: but um, ya.I’m trying.

[Sam removes the phone from his ear, holding it away from him for a second, as he hears Santana yell at him. Then he puts it back to talk to her]

sam: No, it wasn't meant like that! I just meant more that...I've had to explain myself over and over again with people, and I guess I was just expecting the same with you

[sam couldn’t see it, but she frowned. It didn’t feel right. The blame being put on him, and the exhaustion in his voice.]

tana: stop explaining yourself. You’re not the only wrong in this situation. Are you right? Not particularly. But you’re not wrong for having a sex life while single. You are wrong for not communicating more, and dropping L bombs out of the blue. Just like she’s wrong for playing games, instead of just saying how she felt, just so she could have you chasing her around campus for no good reason.

tana: I’ll be over in an hour. One cup of Jack. That’s your limit.

sam: Tell it to the people who think it's alright to be all up my business about this, please.

[Thinking about it for a moment, Sam sighed]

sam: Actually don't, I think it's best if I just deal with them myself.

sam: Three cups. I can have three cups of it. I bought it myself, it's mine

tana: who is all up in your business?

[her eyebrows crinkled together, annoyed for him.]

tana: don't worry. I have to leave my important to really warm-up for a good run through someone's soul.

tana: sam, you're trying to not touch on me. one cup, we don't want to blame it on the a-a-a-lcohol, moment.

[she snickered, cracking open an egg as her griddle started to warm up.]

sam: It doesn't matter, just forget that I said anything.

sam: Yes, but I'm also in a lot of pain with my testicle and alcohol numbs the pain. See, logic?

tana: okay....

[she sighed, debating on pressing the issue and on the whim she went with:] tana: if you need a place to vent, I'm here. No offense, but I'm cruising on side-eye with most people, and going full snixx for anyone is going to take a lot of encouragement.

tana: so you're going to have a lot of focus on your crotch, drink a lot of alcohol, and not try to flirt with me. [there's a pause]

tana: Shaky logic.

sam: Thanks, Tana, I might take you up on it sometime. It means a lot to me as well, you know? For now though, I'm done, I think I've talked about this enough. I kinda want to just move on to the next part of this entire shabang [Sam pauses, hearing what she's just said and swallows hard. She had a point that he hadn't thought of.]

sam: I mean, it's not like I can do anything anyway with my dick, because of how sore it is, but if you prefer, you're welcome to come over tomorrow instead?

tana: hopefully single, but knowing you...

tana: I was serious about taking the steps to get public healthcare or w/e the poor term is.

[santana snickers, her voice drops a little and get's breathy]

tana: sammy, you know how much I enjoyed sucking your dick, and you know how good I was at it. let's not tempt one another.... [she sighed[

tana: i'll text you later and let you know if I'm coming by.

sam: Well, I am most definitely single right now, and with no game-plan whatsoever, so there's that. Also, yeah, I know. I'll look into it. It's not just this whole thing that requires therapy. I've got a lot of baggage that needs to be dealt with [Biting his lip, Sam can feel himself growing horny and groans]

sam: You're tempting me right now, this isn't fair. It's not like I'm teasing you with anything.

sam: But yeah, sure, let me know so I can put some sweatpants on before you get here

tana: good. Single is good.

tana: and making decisions based off what YOU want, with discretion on how it’ll effect others is even better - or at least that’s what I’m told. tana: down boy, [she sang in a sing-song voice] neither I or my cleavage is there yet. Keep the pants off. See you in a couple hours. [She smiled, then hung up.]

#iphone:all #iphone:sam

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jlf23tumble · 5 years

Text

1D Day, Hour One

God only knows what this hellscape will look like on December 18, so if I’m gonna recap each hour of 1D Day, I might as well do it now, eh?? 1D Day is a gift that none of us really deserved, and yeah, it has a ton of shitty moments, but much like X Factor itself, the true gem is Louis Tomlinson and how much he runs this entire show (and lbr, the band itself), Jesus, god, do I love him.

Anyway, 1D Day aired 7 hours of live content on November 23, 2013 to promote Midnight Memories, and yes, yes, we’ve all seen the gifsets, but like anything else with this band, it’s tremendously better in context. I watched this whole thing a couple of years ago, when I first got into this fandom, but I didn’t know all of the dynamics then, so it’s extra fascinating to me now. We’ve all binged worse shit than this that took way longer, and I promise you won’t regret an hour a night for a week--but if you’d rather read my hot take, here you go, under the cut! Note: these are really shitty screengrabs, and for that, I am truly sorry.

A horrible announcer introduces the D by saying they weigh in at a collective 792 pounds, and all I can wonder is does this mean they have daily weigh-ins, why is it that specific? This focus on their weight is just gross to me. C’mon, writers, you’re better than this (j/k, you aren’t).

The three-foot bubble between Louis and Harry is established pretty early on, with Harry doing the prettiest sitting in all the land before bolting to his feet immediately because Louis happened to walk by his couch. A very real question: Was this bubble a requirement that Ben Winston constantly whispers into their headpieces, or did sbb decide, hey, let’s make it obvious that we have to CONSTANTLY adjust where we stand, even if it’s two feet away because that’s not enough room for Jesus?

There are some truly hilarious guest “stars” to announce, the first being the giant video head of David Beckham, which pops up and immediately starts speaking, so we're already off to the races with a) fuckups and b) Louis’s annoyance at said fuckups.

Liam takes a good hard look at his future:

Harry isn’t allowed to gaze at Becks, he’s off by the listening booth, which is a giant red call box because they’re Briddish, pip pip, cheerio. Unrelated, but I low-key feel like Harry's coked up or else really taking the piss with all his “LIVE BANDDDDDDD,” JERRY! JERRY! JERRY!,” etc., not to mention how fast he’s speaking, the way he grinds on the guitarist’s lap while Louis fonds at the sky, and all the yelling with arms aloft.

The best part of the rundown of the guest “stars” (or breast stars, if you’re Niall) is that we’re only in the first 10 minutes, so everyone’s giving it a go, but then we get to Mr. Simon Cowell, and Niall claps five times to stony silence (me as Harry constantly staring at Louis from three feet away):

Piers Morgan comes out to describe the “grilling” he’s going to give them later, all angry—genuinely angry—that they’re trending on twitter because they keep saying that he smells. And they don’t stop, even here, they keep yelling, “What’s that smell? You stink, etc.,” and he’s such a dick that I want to bottle this moment and spritz it around my house daily.

This mild trash talking continues, with Piers promising “tears from Piers,” but Slytherin Niall pulls the fingernail out of his mouth, smiles that sneaky smile, and says, “Yeah, but this isn’t Piers Morgan Day, is it, this is 1D Day,” and I want a transcript because there’s so much talking, but all of it trashes Piers, and god, I love my sons.

Anyway, they keep winding Piers up (Piers: “I’m going to find out what you’re most embarrassed about,” Liam: “The way you smell,” Piers, genuinely in a rage: “Don’t say that”), and he keeps talking about how he’s interviewed heads of state, etc., the implication being that this is below him, but Niall counters that Oprah and Barbara Walters have, too, and they would have much preferred Oprah, to the point where Piers admits they couldn’t afford Oprah (lmaooooooo).

We move on to Harry, spinning a twitter wheel that means they’ll follow whoever it lands on, which seems like a cute idea. I’m guessing it’s the official twitter handle?? I don’t know or actually care!

Louis can’t read the teleprompter, and he mutters later that it’s because it makes no sense rather than being too hard to actually see, but me as Niall, already yawning at the 25-minute mark (the bubble is preserved, though, whew):

I’m guessing Scott Mills is the “host” of this show because he comes out with a stick (??) and an agenda (Scott’s no Dermot…he has a face for radio, as they used to say back in the day). This whole section just features a lot of Harry and his pinned sleeves staring at Louis, and honestly relatable:

The next task is toilet paper roll stacking, with two judges from the Guinness Book of World Records on hand to see if this band of hyenas can beat the current world record and stack 28 (!!!!) rolls in 30 seconds. Two reasons to love Louis: he interrupts this idiocy to ask, “How did you two get into this, is this a full-time job you do every day?” (I was wondering the exact same thing), and this is his face for this challenge:

Sadly, they fail, and Harry’s the one who has to tell the judges, “Well, sorry for wasting your time!” with a cheery wave from the ladder. Uh oh, though, the bubble, we’re at two feet:

Much better!

This is still too close for Ben Winston’s comfort, so we split up the teams in what feels like a college course with a lot of money to run fake broadcasting drills. Zouis gets to report from the field, with some tweet rapping; the weather guy, sports guy, and lead broadcaster experience some technical difficulties, prompting Harry’s infamous, “SOMETHING’S GONE WRONG,” and we’re off to Poland:

For a production company that seems hell bent on “no homo,” there are lots of things that raise my brows, like this big “handsome” (Harry’s words) he-man who’s going to pull a “boohs” full of 1D fans over a line, so the boys have to guess how long it’s going to take him…by writing all over his mostly nude body (I’m the eye contact that Harry and Louis maintain during this):

Dude pulls the boohs successfully, so yay! Next up is Wrong Direction, the world’s worst lookalikes (HONESTLY, I’m embarrassed for everyone in this segment on Hollywood Blvd: the idiots who are “fooled” by this, the guys themselves and the low-key insult of it all, myself because this went on for way too long):

I’ll spare everyone the individual matchups because yike, but the real Wrong Direction comes to the studio, with all the guys dressed up like their matches, and the real D is polite, albeit mildly “wtf are we supposed to do about this” (me, too, Zayn). Points to Harry for at least trying to strike up some conversation: “Did you have foon, acting like us?” We’re supposed to vote for the best one on Google+ (lolololololol).

Scott takes two girls who look like they’re legit about to pass out into the red call box so they can be the first people to listen to the new album. While they listen to something none of us can hear, we get some VT (that’s “videotape,” god, I hate the whole lingo lesson we got earlier) of Spain and some fans, all of which feels like lengthy filler. I feel for the people Scott mentions as being asleep during this because there is a LOT of fill. Maybe make this shit shorter, just a suggestion!

Next up is Jamie Scott from his home somewhere in the middle of the night; he wrote most of Midnight Memories along with Louis and Liam, and he gives them an 8.5 in terms of how they did on a scale of 1-10 (and that’s AFTER Louis insults his pillows with the alphabet on them, “In case you forget”). There’s a lot of Lilo hand-shaking in celebration, and some enthusiastic clapping from Harry (a little too enthusiastic…I’m gonna imagine that someone tells him to tone it down in his earpiece because he looks around quite a bit):

A few things happen that don’t really interest me: the first listen of “Through the Dark” (this is skipped in the vid), a remote report from Radio Disney (Harry: “HOLLYWOODDDDDD!”) and a fan who wins the chance to come visit them later in the day, and then we’re back to Scott, who looks exhausted, and it’s only been 40 minutes.

All is not lost, because the next VT is the totally unnecessary yet extremely vital coverage of the D’s exercise regime. I’ve seen so many gifsets of hottttt and sweaty Lirry, but you haven’t lived until you’ve heard Niall’s American accent while he stretches: “Welcome to my workout dvd! I’ll be with you for the next 45 minutes to give you the lowdown of how I stay in shape.” PLEASE @ NIALL, DO THIS.

I really WANT to be Harry and effortlessly pump out pushups, but in reality I’m Zouis, popping some robot dance moves and drinking Red Bull. The weird shorthand throughout this is that Liam is an animal (Ziam + a whip = fire), Harry’s into flirty sexercise, Niall wants an arse like Kim K’s, Zayn’s a slender boxer, and Louis…just fucks around? Missed opp for footie Louis.

The first performance is “Story of My Life,” and we’ve all seen it before, but godDAMN, Zayn sings like an angel. Lots of technical problems in the audio, prompting quite a few Louis/Harry hand gestures, but still, in spite of it all, they sound amazing individually and together.

Even local asshole Piers Morgan is impressed, as he comes out to tell them that they were surprisingly good, along with a bunch of other neg bullshit. This is another one of those segments that it pays to watch the whole clip of, and Jesus, do I want a transcript. They head over to the couches, and Piers points at Louis and says, “You have the most reason to be nervous,” but Louis’s like, “Yeah, but I’m not,” and wow, #goals.

Everyone gets a couch, and the upshot is that Piers is a terrible egoist who thinks he’s a fantastic interviewer, but he really isn’t…all the questions are shit, and these five eat him alive. Everything he asks falls flat, and it’s so masterfully, subversively handled, from Louis’s iconic “define girlfriends” (and the underappreciated attempt by Harry to define it for Piers later: “Like in primary school, if you hold hands with a girl and you're eight, is that a girlfriend?”) to the obsession with smells (Piers asking Niall, “Why do you always smell,” claiming it’s a fan’s question, and Niall answering that it’s because he had colic as a child, so can only fart; Piers asking Zayn, “Who stinks the worst,” and Zayn saying that they all smell quite good, actually) to Piers demanding to see Zayn’s tattoo and relentlessly attacking him for it being a gun (Louis keeps interjecting that it’s a watergun, but go off I guess, paraphrasing).

But the best is always Louis. “What’s the weirdest thing a girl has done to impress you?” “Tweeted Piers Morgan.” Later, he says pointblank to Piers, “You do stink.” But then…but THEN, it’s the Four interview 1.0, only instead of Ben trying to get Louis to deny gay rumors, it’s Piers, who does it twice: “What’s the one rumor you wouldn’t want to hear about yourself?” Louis’s answer: “That I’m not good at football.” “Are you good?” “No….I just wouldn’t want it confirmed.” Piers tries AGAIN: “What’s the worst thing you’ve had to read about yourself?” but Louis turns it around and says he hates reading about one of the other boys being dead (!).

Because he’s the worst, Piers takes it to the ladies and asks how many girlfriends they’ve had and how many times they’ve kissed a girl. Harry says he’s kissed 8 ladies (which prompts a good scoff out of Zayn), and everyone else says 5 or 6, 3 or 4, etc., with Louis declaring he’s only had one proper relationship (no genders mentioned), so maybe 2 (lmaooooo). Piers gets all excited that he’s kissed more girls than this hot boyband has, and I wanna say, you’re almost there, “friend”…keep working it through.

There’s more antics w/r/t Piers, like his poor 2YO daughter crying, and him trying to blame it on Harry Styles not answering her dad’s sex questions or stupid questions about embarrassing things they’ve caught the others doing, and yeah, I don’t think they’ll get into the big ot5 gang bang on live TV, but ask anyway, I guess?

The last person to suffer sitting next to Piers is Liam, and I love him always, but especially for saying, “How’s it going there, stinky?” when Piers takes a seat to ask him why he’s so sexy. Piers tries to “joke” that the sexy question is for him, but nobody says anything, and then he asks Liam AGAIN before admitting that it’s a shitty question, so then he asks about them all wearing tight jeans, and godddddd, why does anyone let him interview anyone??

The good news is that Piers can tell he lost, so as he tells them that he thinks they’re pretty okay, actually, but, “You’ve gotta stop calling me stinky,” and you know they never will.

Scott says it might feel like much longer, but it’s only been an hour, and Zayn’s lookalike won, so we can all rest easy. This hour closes with a review of the highlights, and it’s ham-fisted and awful. Shocking!!!!

I can’t do one of these every single day, but I’ll do hour two sometime soon! Hope you enjoyed this, @justlarried, lol!

#recap #1d day #hour one #it really did feel like a full day

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allwaswell16 · 5 years

Text

11/11/11

I was tagged by @winston-wilson Thanks, Ann!

Answer the 11 questions, think of 11 of your own, tag 11 people.

1. What was the hardest part to figure out for your current WIP?

I have a fic posting tomorrow and it wasn’t hard to figure out exactly, but it’s part of the Wordplay challenge that I’ve decided to write all a/b/o pairings for. They’re all Larry fics, but each week is going to be a different a/b/o relationship. This week is alpha Louis and omega Harry, but I’m excited to figure out some less common pairings as the weeks go!

2. Is there anything about any of your characters that’s difficult to write about? Character trait or backstory?

It was really hard to write Harry in Consequences. I knew I was getting in deep with all the medical issues surrounding his injuries, but I did not realize how much his emotional state was going to affect both me and the fic. In hindsight I should have realized this. Welp. My beta at multiple points had to say it was okay to stop writing the fic for a while until I felt up to it again.

3. What’s your favorite AU?

I love a good famous/famous au where they’re bantering back and forth.

4. What work are you most proud of?

Definitely Conseqences. It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written and definitely took me the longest to write. It was a fairly complicated thing to write, both plot wise and because of how Harry’s injuries are dealt with in the fic. But I’m really proud of taking something I love (amnesia aus) and trying something new with it.

5. What trope is your favorite to write and/or read?

Probably exes to lovers for both!

6. If you could live a life of any of your characters from any of your fics, which one would it be?

Ooh. Good question. OH, I know for sure. I’d like to be Louis in Sit Next To Me. He’s a famous author, and he’s dating a handsome pop star who is incredibly into him AND also likes to read his books. LOL.

7. What AU do you wish to write but feel like you won’t manage?

Oh man, before I wrote an amnesia fic, I would have said that. Okay, this took me a hot minute to figure out, but I’d love to write a great fantasy story. Sadly, I don’t think I have it in me. I tried to write one, but I’ve been stuck after the first 5k forever. I think it’s not gonna happen.

8. How long have you been writing?

I’ve been writing for this fandom since 2016 so three years. I’ve been writing stories my whole life though. I actually wrote Bill & Ted fan fiction when I was a little kid. I didn’t know it was fan fiction, but that’s what it was. My next door neighbor and I wrote them together. I wrote the Ted parts and she wrote the Bill parts. In all the fics, they were old men. I have no explanation other than that we were weird children.

9. What inspires your writing?

I’d say music. Usually, I’m just minding my own business listening to music and then aus start writing themselves in my head. I write to prompts quite a bit, too.

10. What are the 3 tropes/AUs that you dislike?

I’ll give just about anything a try! I don’t really read cheating fics or kid fics, I guess?

11. What do you feel when you publish a work?

I’m mostly just excited for people to read it and tell me what they thought!

~*~

My questions:

1. What fic have you written that you wish everyone would read?

2. What’s your favorite character you’ve ever written?

3. What’s your most popular fic and why do you think it’s your most popular?

4. What’s one of your favorite fan fics that you haven’t written?

5. What is your current WIP about?

6. What is a fic that you hope to write someday?

7. Do you read fics from other fandoms? Which ones?

8. What author or book has influenced you as a writer?

9. What’s one of your favorite books from when you were a child?

10. What’s an au/trope that you thought you didn’t like until you read one and loved it?

11. Choose one: angst or fluff?

I’ll tag these eleven people to answer my questions: @nauticalleeds @magicalrocketships @werebothstubborn @lightwoodsmagic @larrymaybe22 @forreveries @disgruntledkittenface @mediawhorefics @afirethatcannotdie @alakeeffectgirl @runaway-train-works

#tag things

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tintedglasses · 5 years

Note

some velvet morning! I'm so obsessed with that fic

(from this) that is the very first fic i ever posted and also my longest fic! i was really intimidated when i first found out who i was assigned to for the Tomlinshaw Exchange but luckily the prompts were right up my alley i’ve done some digging and i found two deleted scenes for you, so i’m going to include them both!:

1. Louis goes back to work

Louis’ boss calls him that Thursday, reminding him that he’s scheduled to work Friday night. While part of Louis has enjoyed sitting around at home all week, he can’t deny that he’s looked forward to getting back into the swing of things and being productive.

After all, the more time he sits by himself, the more he thinks about Nick and he resolutely does not want to do that. Because the problem with thinking about Nick is that he can’t just remember the bad times, how alone he felt towards the end, that crushing realization that it wasn’t going to work out the way Louis wanted. He does think about those times, of course. Thinks about them a lot, actually.

But thinking about Nick means thinking about the good times, too. The late-night trips to the fish and chip shop down the street from Louis’s shitty student flat after Nick’s show, laughter bouncing off the buildings around them. The afternoons spent watching soaps on the telly when Louis didn’t have class, mixing corn pops and frosted flakes. Kissing in the morning, Nick’s eyes still half-shut, before leaving for class.

It hurts.

He didn’t really know that he’d been harboring all of these feelings for Nick still, only letting himself tap into them while writing before locking them up tight again. But now they are undeniably, unbearably there, right under his skin.

He doesn’t know why they haven’t gone away, why he can’t make them go away, because it’s stupid, really. It’s been years since they were together and Louis was so, so convinced that it was for the best. That they’d both moved on.

Now, he’s not so sure. He doesn’t know about Nick, despite what Niall and Lottie try to convince him, but he knows there’s still something there on his end. He just doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do about it.

All in all, it’s driving him fucking crazy. Barely three days ago, he was suggesting that they get divorced and now he’s entertaining thoughts of them getting back together? Must have lost the fucking plot.

So, yes, he’s in dire need of a distraction.

Niall’s not too happy about him going back to work when Louis tells him later that night, insisting that it’s too soon. You just had a brain injury only a week ago, Louis, just tell Simon you need more time. Fuck that. His head doesn’t even really hurt anymore, aside from the brief headache he gets every morning, and his ribs only ache if he moves a certain way.

So, it’s fine. He’ll go back to work and he’ll do his bloody job and he’ll be fine.

——

He’s only been at work for an hour, but it’s becoming increasingly apparent that he is not fine.

He’s trying, he is. He pulling pints and flirting for tips and making sure the glasses are stocked at all times, but it feels like the actions are pure rote at this point. There’s a steady thrum of panic, electric beneath his skin, that’s getting harder to ignore. Instead of settling in, he only gets more and more jumpy, his shaking hands clumsily spilling vodka on the bartop while he tries to pour shots.

It comes to a head halfway through his shift, as he’s weaving through the crowd, strobes lights bouncing off of the tray of shots in his hand, tequila this time. Someone behind him presses at one of his ribs, just a guiding hand as they move past him, but he nearly jumps out of his skin. It didn’t even hurt, really. Rather, it’s the jolt of fear that shoots from the base of his neck down his spine that makes him drop the tray.

It feels like his world shrinks exponentially in the moment between when the tray leaves his hand to when it hits the ground, the air sucked out of his lungs.

He jumps at the noise of the glass shattering on the ground even though he knew it was coming. His memory flicks back for a moment to Nick’s kitchen, a shattered mug lying at his feet.

But he’s not in Nick’s kitchen. He’s broken out of the memory by a yelp. He looks to his left and sees a girl in sandal type heels, pulling her hand away from her foot. The strobe lights flash and Louis sees blood. Fuck.

He notices the blood at the same time as her boyfriend does, who is in his face not a second later.

“What the fuck is your problem, mate?” the man snarls. His breath smells like whiskey and coke. “My girlfriend just fucking sliced her foot open, you clumsy shit.”

Louis can feel himself trembling, his head pounding. “I’m sorry–I didn’t mean.”

The man’s girlfriend is trying to pull her boyfriend away, blood from her hand smearing on his light blue shirt. “Michael, I need to go wash my foot.”

“No, I’m not done with him yet,” the guys says, pushing her hand off to get closer to Louis. “Where’s your manager, huh? I’ll have you fucking fired for this.”

Louis’s face is hot and he can feel the tears welling in his eyes. Some far off part of his thinks it’s stupid because this is just some douchey guy, but most of him is fucking terrified. People around them have stopped dancing, openly staring at them, but none of them are helping. And he’s not in the alley, but he feels cornered all the same.

“I swear, I didn’t mean–” his throat feels sticky and he has to clear it before continuing. “I can–I’ll go get someone.”

He starts backing up before he runs into someone, who grips his shoulders. He bats at their hands, scrambling.

“Hey, Louis, whoa,” Ben, one of the bodyguards says, releasing Louis’s shoulders instantly. He takes in Louis’s face, his brow furrowing. “What’s going on? Did something happen, Lou?”

The boyfriend–Michael?–cuts in, “Yeah, he dropped a fucking tray and my girlfriend cut her foot on the glass.”

Ben sees the blood on the girl’s foot and the floor, and curses. “Shit. Okay, here’s let’s take her to the staff room, we’ve got a first aid kit back there.”

He starts to usher them off, the boyfriend seemingly forgetting about Louis and focusing on helping his girlfriend hobble off the dancefloor. Ben looks back for a moment, addressing Louis, who’s frozen in his place, heart rabbiting. “Lou, why don’t you go to Simon’s office, okay? I’ll get Niall to clean this up for you.”

Fuck, he doesn’t want Niall to even see this, let alone have to clean it up. Besides, Louis knows that he should be the one picking it up, knows that it’s the person who made the mess’s responsibility to clean it.

However, he’s fairly sure he’s about 30 seconds away from a meltdown, so he has no other choice than to push his way through the crowd until he gets back to bar, ducking through the side door that leads to Simon’s office.

Thankfully, it’s empty. Louis slides his way down the wall, tucking his head between his knees. His body is sore from the rush of adrenaline and the lack of air getting through his lungs. He can’t turn the memories off, the men from the attack blending with the man from today until his palms are sweaty.

The door opens and Louis’s head shoots up.

“Hey, it’s just me,” Niall says quietly, closing the door behind him.

Louis tears bubble up at the sight of him. He clears his throat, willing them back down. “Aren’t you supposed to be picking up?” Louis chokes out.

“I made Deo do it,” Niall admits. He comes over and crouches opposite Louis. “Besides, I needed to see how my best mate was doing.”

Louis tears to run over at that and Niall doesn’t hesitate before scooping him into a hug.

“You’re scaring me, mate,” Niall murmurs quietly. “What happened? Ben said some twat got mad cos you dropped some shots?”

Louis nods into Niall’s neck.

Niall pulls back to look at Louis’s face. “Why the tears then, hey? Usually you just tell them to fuck off.”

Louis chuckles, a bit snotty, at that. “I don’t know…I just, I thought he was gonna…”

Niall’s face falls a little, “Oh. Well, that’s understandable. It’s only been a week. No one’s expecting you to be over it yet.”

Louis had, and he knew Simon had, too. Fuck, Simon’s going to be pissed that he broke all those glasses.

He looks down at his hands, “Is the girl okay?”

“What girl?” Niall asks, confusion clear in tone. He must not have seen her.

“The guy’s girlfriend cut her foot. That’s why he was so mad,” Louis says, a stab of guilt stinging in his gut.

“Oh, I didn’t see her. She’s probably fine. Happens every week you know that,” Niall shrugs.

Louis can’t deny that, having seen countless girls cut their feet on broken beer bottles and the like. He’s just never been the cause of it.

“It’s fine, Lou, really,” Niall claps him on the shoulder. “Listen, why do I go talk to Simon and talk about getting you out of here, okay? It’s a slow Friday so we can hold down the fort without ya. Besides, Simon shouldn’t have even asked you to work anyways.”

Louis wants to argue that, because he should have been fine. There’s no real reason for him to be freaked out–he didn’t even get attacked in the bar. But being on edge all night has him feeling drained and he knows he’s probably going to be useless for the rest of his shift anyways, trembling too hard still.

“Yeah, fine,” he mutters.

“Good lad,” Niall says, and it should be patronizing, but it’s Niall, so it isn’t. “Just wait here, I’ll go talk to him.”

Louis focuses on breathing until Niall comes back, probably ten minutes later.

“You’re all set to go,” Niall says. Louis isn’t too shocked that Simon’s letting him go; he can be surprisingly empathetic at times. “Listen, I have to get back out there, but I want you to text me when you get home, okay?”

“Yes, mum,” Louis says, huffing out a laugh.

“Good,” Niall says before ducking back out the door.

Louis stops in the staff room to grab his stuff, the girl and her boyfriend luckily long gone. Once he has everything, he heads back to the front and out into the muggy night air.

2. Nick calls Louis after a nightmare

Louis wakes up to his phone ringing. He knows it’s late because he got back from his shift at 1am, and it’s still dark out. He squints at the screen. It’s 3am and it’s Nick. Shit.

“Hello?” he answers quickly.

“I just need you to tell me you’re okay,” Nick says, a panicked tinge to his voice.

“What?” Louis asks, unsure what Nick means.

“I had a dream and I woke up alone and I need you to tell me that you’re okay.”

“I’m okay, Nick,” Louis says. “I’m okay. Just breathe, alright?”

Nick takes a few deep breaths. “Sorry, I just–I didn’t mean to bother you. This is stupid.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Louis says. He sits up against his headrest. “We can talk about it. If you want, that is.”

“No, it’s late and you should be–”

“Nick, it’s fine. I don’t have to get up early tomorrow.” Louis winces thinking about the wake-up call Nick is going to get in a mere two hours though. “You can tell me what it was about if it’ll help you get back to sleep.”

“It was…,” Nick trails off, hesitant. “It was a phone call from the hospital.”

Louis stomach drops faintly. “What did they say?”

“It was the same phone call as before. That they found you and they couldn’t tell me anything except which hospital you were going to.”

“Oh, Nick. I’m so sorry.”

“I was just so worried because I didn’t know what had happened or if you were going to be okay.” Louis doesn’t know if Nick is talking about the dream or real life now, but Nick’s voice cracks at the end and Louis’s heart cracks along with it.

“I’m okay. I swear,” Louis says, trying as hard as he can to be comforting. He hates that he hurt Nick like this, even if it isn’t his fault.

“I know. Just…the whole way to the hospital, all I could think about was that if you were okay, I was going to try to fix this. That I would make everything okay again.”

“That’s not on you, Nick. I’m the one who fucked up,” Louis says.

“I know and that really hurt,” Nick says, making Louis’s stomach drop that final inch. “But the thought of being without you forever…that hurt so much more than anything. And I need to know if there’s something there for you still. If you could still want this. Because I’m not ready yet, I don’t think, but I really want to be.”

Louis cries, half out of sadness for Nick and half out of relief. He hadn’t let himself fully acknowledge how much he wanted Nick back until now, but the want burns bright in his chest. “I’ve been trying to figure out how not to want you for so long, but it never went away. And I don’t think it’s going to anytime soon. For as long as it takes.”

“Really?” Nick asks, sniffling a bit.

“Yeah, really. I promised forever, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Nick laughs wetly. “I don’t think we need to think about forever right now, though. Maybe just lunch next week? As friends? If that’s okay. I just think I need to go slow.”

“Slow is good, I think.” Louis says, trying to quell the panic about having lunch in public with Nick. The press or anyone else don’t matter. He’s not going to let them.

“Okay, I’ll, um, text you about it, I guess,” Nick says. “I should probably get to bed, though. I have to get up in…fuck, an hour and a half.”

“Get some sleep,” Louis says, yawning reflexively.

“Yeah, okay. Goodnight, Lou,” Nick says.

“Goodnight, Nick.”

#theres probably a ton of typos in these #but i don't feel like editing lol #my fic #fic meme #queerlyalex #thank you!!#i loved this fic too

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james-bucky-barnackle · 6 years

Text

Two Night Stand (Part 6)

Synopsis: (AU) You found yourself at a club drinking away to forget about the stress of your shitty job as the assistant of the biggest Editor in New York, you end up hooking up with the man of your dreams only to wake up to a nightmare when you find out he’s the son of your boss.

PART 5 | 2NS Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 4,075

A/N: I still have trouble with my wifi so I’m posting this part early!!!

Monday, the first level of hell. And I’m not an idiot to be late, despite getting home at 12 AM. I woke up at six and put effort into applying concealer on my Walmart eyebags. I wore a white loose halter top which I’ve tucked in my beige high waisted skirt and put a gray blazer on top. I twirled my hair into a bun, securing it with a pen which I’ll pull off when I get to the building. As much as I’d love to look nice on the streets, these curls are not gonna take the pollution. I fill Pogo’s bowl and rub his belly, leaving a chew toy next to him, Bruce will be here later to pick him up. I grab my bag and I walk out of the apartment. Wanda’s already left for work, she teaches at one of the private pre-schools, and I can’t trace one single wrinkle on her face. I guess working with kids is easier than working for Winnie. I start walking and go into my boss’ most favored cafés—my order already out front. I make my way to the counter and give the barista a wink, handing him a few dollar bills. The woman in line frowns at me, sorry honey but until you’re not Winnie, you’ll have to wait in line. I’m in an awfully good mood today, considering that it’s another day at the office, but there’s no use in being a fuzzball, I’m not in the building yet. I pull one of the cups from the tray and take a sip, mmm coffee is like my heroin. I used to get a regular latte but ever since I’ve started working for the View, I invested a little more coin into it and started ordering Winnie’s too. It’s amazing, I have no idea what they put in this, but it’s an investment I’m willing to continue cashing myself to. I put it immediately back just before I bump into a cyclist, I hear an audible apology and I immediately forgive him, just as long as no one ruins my clothes, you are all forgiven.

I’m half an hour early when I arrive at the building, which is neat. I get to warm up, because yes working for the view is sort of like training for a sport, with very fast economic risks, the risk of me not getting to pay my rent this month if I don’t get myself right. When the lift arrives at my floor, half of the employees are already there, per usual. I walk to my desk and put my things down. Okay, where’s Maria’s cubicle? I need that article before Winnie arrives. I walk gingerly amongst the sea of busy people procrastinating anything they can get their hands on. What are these people doing all day? I get to her table and it’s empty. Even when I’m thirty minutes early, this desk isn’t supposed to be empty. I pull my phone out and text her where she is.

[Home] I wiggle my eyebrows, what? I have no time for this, I hit call on her number.

“What do you mean you’re home? Are you sick?”

“Home, as in I’m at home.” She replies deadpan, as if it’s normal to be at this time of day. “I’m not sick.” What the hell is going on?

“Then why aren’t you here? Where’s the article Winnie asked you to write?” I’m itching, I’m starting to get very annoyed, I try lowering my voice when people start to glance my way.

“I haven’t written it,” holy. Shit. WHAT? A dramatic pause ensues before a loud cry breaks through my phone. “HE BROKE UP WITH ME Y/N. He. Broke. Up. With. Me.” What’s this have to do with me? “And he told me I wasn’t like anybody else, but he hasn’t been calling me in a week, so I went to his apartment then- aaaah!!!” I hear her sneeze on the other end of the line. That’s her excuse? I could get hit by a truck and I’d for sure still show up at the front desk.

“Okay,” I say like I’m trying to ease a five-year-old child. “can’t you write anything? Anything! Is there anything old on your computer I could give to Winnie?”

“And he had the audacity to tell me it wasn’t me! It was him!” Okay, she is not hearing me out. I start panicking myself, and I drop the call. What the hell am I gonna do? Maria’s gonna get me fired. I doubt Winnie’s gonna let me slide on this one. The weather guy could mess up and give her the wrong information on TV and she’d still find a way to put the blame on me. I dash to my desk almost tripping and hitting the hot coffee sitting graciously on top of it. Not today, mister.

I open a new document and then google on the side. I have no idea what to do, but I’m for sure not letting Winnie come into the office with an empty desk. I’m going to write this article and putting Maria’s name on it, even if it’s the shittiest article ever written. She’s already risked her job not coming in today, could I really make things worse? Milan fashion week, Milan – fashion – week, Milan… Nothing is coming to my head. How am I supposed to know how describe anything? I attended the event sure, but mostly I was just trying to keep my snarky remarks to myself, sitting behind Winnie on the front row of the runway. I can’t think of anything, apart from my feeling queasy when I saw Thor walking the runway looking all fresh and snazzy. I made him, I gave him that career. Focus! I start googling for photos taken by the View’s photographers and I type furiously. I’ve got twenty more minutes; I haven’t written anything in so long. Isn’t this supposed to come naturally? Like riding a bike? It doesn’t go away? All my brain contents are Winnie’s schedule and coffee orders, come on! I spent big bucks on college, work for me, brain! While I’m questioning my own competence, my phone notifies me of a text, “Good morning, doll.” As much as I’d love to respond and giggle to myself, I need to focus. I flip it face down, and face the monitor. How does Maria even talk in her articles? I haven’t read anything she’s written, screw it!

Everyone who’s asking me anything about other things unrelated to my boss and this article has been shooed away and given the hand, by my hunched over self. At this rate, the computer should be releasing smoke.

Most people don’t even have the least bit knowledge on the things they wear, others know more about the brand more than they know themselves. Fashion has turned worlds reeling into first glances, wear the wrong shade of pink and you’re out. |

I continue typing Maria’s article not even knowing which direction it’s heading. Oh god, is this even an article? It sounds, so—stupid, that’s the word. Best case scenario, Winnie reads this and thinks it’s a draft and Maria will be here tomorrow to rewrite an entirely new one; worst case scenario, she burns this paper and Maria will be unemployed, which I never thought I’d not mind until she’s made me incredibly haggard looking like Quasimodo in front of my computer instead of the Esmeralda I longed to be when I came out of the apartment.

Milan’s fashion week gives us a peek of not just the trends you think will be rocked by the young and wealthy of this generation, but of how pattern, shape and form is a huge mark of character when wanting your presence known in the world. Your clothes are your brand, it’s their job to make them look and your voice to make them listen.

Okay cheeseball, we’re printing you. I click the icon and it’s started inking the paper. I want to puke at how cheesy that last paragraph is, but come to think of it, the entire article was destined to be a failure the moment I’ve started writing it. It’s obvious that an ignorant on cashmere wrote it. I hear the printer stop buzzing and I pull it out the tray, raising it up and twirling in my office chair. I did it, or should I say, Maria did it. We did it! And I’ve got three more minutes to go. I pull the pen off my hair, and salvage what’s left of my curls. This looks… decent. I pat my forehead with a napkin, that article was a workout.

The floor grows silent, and there’s only one explanation for that. I stand up, reach for her cup and stand by the door. It’s the perfect temperature, bordering on still hot and are you sure this is still hot? Just the way she likes it. I see her, walking on the aisle and everyone looking and walking elsewhere, not wanting to be in the same lane as her, you don’t want to be in the same lane as her. She’s got her shades and her fur white coat on, and those gorgeous red heels. Her gray hair miraculously curled, framing her face, and even with all that beauty, you know beyond those dark lenses that she’s an evil woman. You can’t have everything, I guess. She gets to the door and I open for her, show time.

“Good morning, I have Maria’s article here and your coffee.” I run behind her and she opens her palm, I gently place the cup. She pauses and bring her shades down her nose to look at the Louis Vuitton handbag sitting where it’s always been, clean and perfectly, seemingly untouched. I see her grin, yes Winnie, no one’s going to jail today. “You have a meeting in 2 hours, and then Clint asked if you could check the creative department this afternoon to review the clothes for the editorial.” I place the paper on her desk, she removes her shades and looks at it. She glances at me from her chair, and my eyes grow wide.

“Right, yes I’m leaving.” I run to the doors and flop on my chair spinning it in a direction where she’s on my peripheral vision. I pretend to type something, please don’t fire me. Please don’t fire me. Please don’t fire me. I repeat it in my head like a mantra.

“What are you typing?” I jump in my chair, it’s Sam. “AHwufuef hswuqodb udnidnl---”

“What are you doing here?”

“Is that a new language? The new Morse code?” I bite my cheek, and spin my chair in his direction. I need this chair in my house. I raise my eyebrow and cross my arms. “Nothing, I work here too you know? Why shouldn’t I be on this floor?” he says as a matter of fact. I shrug and spin back to the angle I was gazing at Winnie on.

“Is that a letter from the president?” he says pointing through the glass partition.

“What? No.” I wrinkle my nose.

“That’s odd, she’s still reading.” Holy shit what does that mean? Is that good or bad? Every time any of the writers would submit an article I don’t give enough care to look at Winnie reading, but I’m pretty sure she reads them, I mean that’s her job. And my mornings consist of putting things on her desk and leaving, I don’t know what she does in there.

“Your point is?”

“I’ve been here for more than a year, she doesn’t read articles that long. She reads the first paragraph and the last sentence, then puts it down.” Holy crap, I might’ve just written the worst article known to mankind and she can’t take her eyes off it in disgust. She’s probably getting sore eyes from reading my words. Think positive, maybe it’s the opposite. Maybe she likes it? I move my head forward and stare at her, her eyes squinting on the paper. It’s disgust. Holy shit, sorry Maria, you’ve killed your career the moment you didn’t go to work, that was me trying to salvage whatever brownie points you had.

“D’you write it?” Sam’s voice scares me off again. I shake my head violently. “If you say so.” He crouches down and whispers in my ear before laughing and spinning my chair in the direction of my computer. I’ve been pretending to type on the same document I’ve written the article in. I blow air into my cheeks, great James Bond-ing Y/N. I exit the document and open my phone, oh shoot, Bucky! I text him back “Good morning to you too.”

A few seconds later, my phone buzzes, he sent me a photo of him in his office with his eyes closed and his tongue out, with the caption “meeting later, I’m sleepy.”

I look up my desk and when no one’s looking I snap a quick selfie of my fingers looking like they’re holding Sam who’s standing far enough just to look like a toy. I think of a funny caption and hit send. “Maybe I can send Sam in to proxy you.”

He replies with another photo of him, his eyes staring into the camera, giving me puppy dog eyes. He looks so cute, I’m literally pouting. His brown hair looking luscious, oh how I’d love to run my hands through his hair. “Can you send yourself instead?”

I flush, I reply with three laugh emojis, not really knowing what to reply. I gotta play hard to get sometimes, what happened to miss workaholic and focused? Bucky Barnes has quite a way with me alright. “I guess I was shipped to the wrong Barnes,” I type in, sneakily taking a photo of me mid shrug with Winnie in the background.

“Ugh! Damn delivery service, always getting my address wrong!” I giggle. Before I could type in another reply, I hear my phone ring. Right, I’ve almost forgotten I’m at work.

“Hi! This is Y/N from the View how may I help you?”

“I’d like to talk to Winifred Barnes,”

“Who’s calling?”

“Sandra Wang,” I gasp, the Sandra Wang? I skim through Winifred’s list of people I am not to connect the phone to… and she’s on it.

“I’m sorry, but she’s currently unavailable. You’re going to have to set an appointment for a formal meeting.” I scramble across my desk in search for my planner, “she’s free on-“

“No need, I’m already in the building.” My jaw drops, what did she just say? Did I hear that right?

“I’m afraid, I’m going to have to-“ she hangs up on me. I dial her number on the telephone, and of course she’s not going to take it. Oh, no. I start biting my nail, flustered. Surprise visits? For Winnie? That’s a very hard no. And it’s Sandra Wang, one of the designers lined up for the fashion ball, her coming here uninvited doesn’t sound like good news to me.

I call Sam real quick, who’s flirting with one of the girls in the office, waving my hands frantically and begging him to hurry up. He arrives at my desk and I tell him what’s happening, or should I say, what’s about to happen. And he’s now biting his nails too. The two of us start pacing around my table, we look like the Hardy boys.

What does she have to say that can’t be over the phone? Is she pulling her collection off the ball? Is she dying? Somehow, in some twisted way, Sandra, dying sounded better that having to look for another designer to replace her slot at the ball. Winnie’s influence is overwhelming. The sole reason why we’re both panicking over what other people might think is ridiculously so little of an issue is because 1) as I’ve mentioned multiple times, uninvited guests are unwelcome, count family off the list. 2) Winnie hates her daily routine rearranged, anything that disrupts the schedule. Anything that happens wrong on a Monday, reflects through Friday, and I’m not about to have a target on my ass. The last time this happened, she fired 14 people in the floor. One of them were fired just because Winnie heard her breathe too loud when they were in a meeting. By golly I was scared, it was just my first month on the job, and that’s when I knew I was in deep.

“Did she say where in the building?” Sam asked, momentarily taking a break from his nail biting.

“No?!”

“I’ll stall Sandra, tell her she’s not in the office, and you block Winnie, ask her to do something else or tell her to pee!” Sam whispers, his hands doing wild gestures.

“Ask her to pee?!”

“You know what I mean!” we both run on opposite directions. He pulls out his phone and calls someone. I enter Winnie’s office not even knowing what to do.

“There you are, submit this for proof reading, I want it printed on this month’s issue.” Winifred tells me the moment I enter then hands me the article I just wrote. Holy cow! I can’t believe this is happening, what?! I bite my lips trying to hide the ginormous smile my lips can’t seem to shy away from. Maria owes me big time.

“You got it!” she whips her head, raising her eyebrows at me. Whoops, too much enthusiasm. “Uh- yes of course…”

“What are you still doing in my office?” Oh right, Sandra Wang! What could I say that’ll make her leave the office? I can’t think of anything, anything that’s plausible. A tarantula got in your desk! Or fire drill! I mentally smack my head, fire drill my ass. I know! I’ll tell her Bucky’s outside, I’m sure he’ll back me up, right? Then I can just tell her he suddenly got called for work. Okay that sounded pretty stupid, but it’s better than the first two things I’ve thought of… I think.

“Uhm, there’s someone in the building—”

“Bucky is the perfect cover for Dolores,” hold up what? I walk a little to the back as two women walk into the office with Sam outside the glass walls giving me an apologetic shrug that spells “y-i-k-e-s”, to which I replied a look that spells “r-e-a-l-l-y-?-!”. I guess 14 people on the building might need to start packing now, or more. The woman who’s just spoken looks like she’s in her mid-forties, black hair pushed back, and snaking straight on her back. She has olive skin and small almond eyes, a sharp black liner on her lash line, I bet it could kill. A red head was behind her, she has legs that can go for days, she has beautiful freckles on her cheeks, and her teeth gapped in the middle. She looked like a cover girl.

“Sandra, nice to see you too.” Winnie replies, but gives me a killer look, I give her one of my signature apologetic smiles. And I’m glad she doesn’t reply with my unemployment.

“The girl in the orange camisole, the mystery girl- I have her right here.” Sandra pulls Dolores from her back. I don’t know if I should leave, but I for sure don’t want to and so I figured to leave when Winnie asks me to. Until then I’m getting front row on this devious plan. The girl in the orange camisole? I’m sorry Sandra, but that’s not her, I would know.

“I didn’t think you for being color blind, Sandra, but I’ve seen the photos. The girl caught snogging my son had ____ hair.” My eyes grow wide, she has seen the photos! I shake my head, of course she has, Y/N. But it’s been two days, and I’m still pouncing in this office. She didn’t recognize me? I don’t know if her not acknowledging anything is a good thing.

“As if you haven’t been involved in rumors, Winnie. We could say she dyed her hair.” Sandra smiles, wickedly. What is going on? Who is this Dolores anyway? And what’s this cover for? “This is buzz! This could give my niece her spotlight back,” spot light? I try to recall where I’ve seen her face, but nothing comes to mind. “and Bucky and Dolores have been linked in the past before, it would be the topic of the century.”

“If I wanted to make a rumor to be the topic of the century, I would’ve asked my assistant to pretend to be the woman in the photo. Don’t you think that would be more scandalous?” I choke, an audible one, which makes the three of them look at me. I laugh, hysterically and when no one joins me, I shut the hell up. I smile, funny Winnie. Funny, funny, Winnie. I start fanning myself with the article I’ve written.

“What have you to lose Winnie? In my side of things, I think it’s a fair trade. A good one too.” She puts her hands on Winnie’s glass table. She hates that, she really hates it when people touch her desk. “All your son needs to do is take Dolores as his date to the ball, they’ll wear my designs… Unless you want me to pull my collection out your ball.”

“You do know it’s more of a loss for you than it is a loss for me, right?” I want to laugh because it’s true. Every designer longs for the exposure on that ball, no matter how old or big your brand is, a slot at the View’s ball is to die for. But still, its half a bluff, since we wouldn’t be able to replace Sandra under a week’s notice. And the press will be all over us, which is something Winnie is not a fan of when things are still being prepared. “But fine, if this is your way of getting your niece a date.” WHAT?

Sandra looks insulted, but she still managed a smirk to spite her colleague. She removes one of her leather gloves and offers it to Winnie to shake. I already know what’s going on my boss’ face, she hates handshakes, if there’s a bill on it she’d be the first to sign it. She waits until Sandra gets impatient, and she doesn’t, so Winnie sighs and shakes it anyway. And right after she does, Sandra flashes her million-dollar smile and leaves the room, but not before looking me up and down. And I can say the same for Dolores, who’s made it a point to look at me during Sandra and Winnie’s conversation the way they both looked at each other. Like we’re their mini-mes and I cringe, but not as much as I’d cringe if I was Sandra’s mini me.

“How desperate.” Winnie scoffed as soon as the two have made their exit. I pull a small bottle of alcohol out of my blazer’s left pocket and spray some on Winnie’s already waiting hand. She gestures on the place where her two unexpected visitors have just stood and I spray that as well.

“Next time you let anyone here without an appointment, you’re fired, Y/L/N. I don’t care if you can write a good article, I don’t want unnecessary people taking up oxygen in my office.” Fear rushes through my body, how did she know? I didn’t even realize she’d given me a compliment.

“But I didn’t- It was Maria—"

“Maria already called in sick today,” that bitch. She didn’t even get me a heads up. I worked my ass off for that paper, and here she is calling in sick? I worked my ass for nothing. Well, maybe not nothing. Did Winnie just say I write good stuff?! My inner goddess is beaming, my lips start to curl up. I can’t wait to tell Wanda.

She then turns to me, waving a finger, “Get back to work, and call Dolce and Gabbana, tell them to cancel James’ fitting. Guess we’re settling with Sandra Wang.” I spoke too soon.

I’m dumbfounded, so many things have happened under one conversation and I haven’t processed a single thing. What the hell just happened? Not a second later, I feel my phone vibrate. Nat just texted me a photo of the dress I’m wearing to the fashion ball. Great, I can’t wait.

PART 7

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wroteasongabouther · 6 years

Text

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.

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

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

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