#Or rather - that bit makes sense lol he got as far as he could within the confines of his world and understanding | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

puhmpken · 3 months

Text

Author’s Note: This one is a filler since I am still working on “Dairy of the Obsessed” ..this one was spontaneous lmfaoo! Also requests are open feel free to give me story ideas

This has BEEN edited 🥳🎉

Warning ⚠️-> If you’re under the age of 18+ DONT interact with this post, this is your only & final warning! I do not & will not take responsibility for anything further!

You have been warned

Title: A Shape-Shifter’s Dilemma

Alastor x Reader Oneshot

written + edited by @puhmpkins-blog 🎃

W/C: 5.1K 😀 oops maybe too much lol my imagination got the better of me but please enjoy!

You always questioned where Alastor your husband would go. Most of the time you would brush it off and not think of it—Overlord stuff.

But one night while Al and you slept in the same bed he tossed and turned in his sleep you could assume he was having a nightmare

“honey..?” You said in a low ruff voice as you gently placed a hand on Alastor who stops his moving before the word he mutters out was

“charlie..”

...Now that is odd. Why would a overlord like Alastor be saying the princess of hells name in the middle of his sleep?

It made you raise a eyebrow, and questioned him.

The day following did not seem to ease your nerves one bit, he again in rather ..a rush to leave the manor

Standing next to the front doors door you watched as he moved back and forth through the living room looking for whatever he was desiring

“What's rushing for darling? This is rather out of character” You said as your eyes watched him move throughout the room

“Oh nothing to concern yourself with dearie!~ Just overlord business”

You hummed back at his bland cryptic response not wanting to pick it apart–you just decided not to question it and save yourself the energy

“Right. Just don’t go get yourself in trouble” You said smiling at Alastor standing infront of you, slightly towering over you as you fixed and cleaned off any dirt or lent that got caught on his suit as he was in your words rushing around

Moving your hands away from him, your eyes locked with his as Alastor’s reddish brown eyes, a flicker of amusement dancing within them. His lips curved from a small smile into a sly smirk, revealing his pointy teeth.

“Trouble?,” he questioned, making his one of his eyebrows raise in a cocky way , “Why..thats my middle name, my dear.” He said clasping and holding both your hands as he stared at you, before shrugging “But perhaps maybe I’ll make an exception—for you.”

You rolled your eyes to your husband's playful antics, before giving Alastor his goodbye kiss and waving him bye as he sinks into his shadow disappearing leaving you alone in the manor.

A moment of silent filling the air before

“Now, let me figure out WHAT’S actually happening.”

And that’s how this whole shenanigan began with you.

You see, while Alastor might have been expected to marry some ordinary demon, you in your case, were far from ordinary. As a shape-shifting demon, you possessed the ability to transform your identity at will, becoming a whole new demon or a manifestation of whatever your imagination desired.

The only limitations were those of your own imagination or..if Alastor was able to sniff you out, thanks to his keen sense of smell. HOWEVER, avoiding detection was usually easy enough… for the most part.

Weeks to months you’ve been keeping up on this “routine” of cat and mouse but all was paying off.

You found out Al has been to much of your dismay harboring rather a couple of secrets hidden and tucked from you. Other than your known overlord stuff he was a suppose helper at a hotel called the “Hazbin Hotel” that princess charlie owns and works at with a couple of other people almost made you drop with laughter when you first seen Alastor helping out with the hotel, you had to tell Rosie about this later.

It was easy to stay undercover and even easier to get close to him without him realizing and knowing it was you.

You made up your mind weeks ago that his territory would be fine, if you step away here and there to follow Alastor to the hotel

And that’s how you end up to the present day you.

You weren’t satisfied with knowing Alastor helps at a hotel. Yes indeed it was a shocker but that’s all? You were still puzzled on why Al said Charile name to began with

Alastor hasn’t suspected a thing yet due to him kinda being busy at the hotel or up in his office.

On the rare times you would see him, he was up in the upper balcony with nifty laughing with her, you couldn’t hear what they were talking about but knowing the both of them.. it was rather something strange or gruesome

As another shifted ended, the day ended with you back at the manor seating in your comfortable loveseat, reading a book before mere minutes Al got back, making it seem as normal as possible to not raise suspicions

The next day as things moved along you wished Alastor a goodbye as you watched him shift into the shadows and disappear off.

Waiting a few minutes after he left you then began to get ready for your shift at the hotel, that first started with showering to rid yourself of your natural scents–you didn’t want to be tackled down by your husband as soon as you walk in through the door.

Finishing up with your shower you stepped out spraying some random cheap perfume you had bought to scramble Al scents.

As you began styling yourself from being a lady of the 1920s with elegant beauty and designer dresses to a ripped petite coat, old bleach stained black skirt with a hole at the bottom with a finish messy down hairstyle

You laughed at your reflection

Seeing what you looked like in your normal form made you laugh. Alastor would probably gasp and dropped to his knees at the things you wore.

You walked out the house being sure to not be seen

Successfully making it past the fenced gates and out of the woods you came to the main roads of hell shifting yourself into a hell creature you have been using for this whole little “spying game”

A lengthy white fur being that stood, 6ft having two red stripes covering both arms and legs. Your (h/c) just reached the middle of your back and on your head sat two cream colored pointy horns, you kept your sharp teeth to still be able to scare off unwanted demons if the occasion was to rise

Checking yourself out in the reflection of the glass windows, you made sure everything was correct: your look, your attire and your scent.

You started to walk to the hotel, the sidewalk you have taken at least more than ten times.

As you inched closer to the hotel you for safe measures stopped and sprayed yourself down one more time in cheap perfume emptying the bottle before tossing it off in the distances and kept walking

Getting inside the hotel was an easy task,

You said hello to everyone vaggie, angeldust, sir pentious and his eggo children, huskier and nifty.

‘Everyone is down here practically–well almost everyone’ looking around furrowing your eyebrows together

“Where Charlie? She's usually with you, Vag?” You said to Vaggie who was sitting on the couch next to Angel looking at the TV

“She should be in her office right now Lucy. I think she also wanted to talk to you” Vaggie said kinda nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders towards the end as she looked up from the tv to you as you nodded your head

Making a hum noise you turned on your heel and began walking to Charlie office

Knocking before you entered, Charlie sat at her desk looking at papers

“Helluva morning Charlie. Vaggie was telling me you were looking for me, I just wanted to speak to you about what you wanted” You said as you walked towards her desk and seating down in one of the chairs across from it

Charlie still having her go lucky smile on her face nodded putting down a couple of papers “Yes Vaggie was right! I was looking for you Lucy!” She said pausing as she slide over a little stack of paperwork, “It’s nothing serious promise! I just wanted you to run these up to Al~!”

You nodded silently thanking hell for the opportunity to be closer to Al

“Yeah of course I can do that” You said standing up taking the paperwork in your black gloved hands “Consider it done Charlie!” You said walking out of her office as she screamed a thank you from behind a closed office door

You hummed quietly to yourself as you walked up the flights of stairs to get to Alastor’s door

Minutes passed before you got to the door that read in bold letter

“Alastor, Radio Demon”

Knocking lightly on the door, ‘he should be in there?’

“…”

‘No response..hm that weird’ You thought as you looked over both your shoulders before you placed a gloved hand on your door handle twisting the knob before it opened slowly

!!!CREAAAK!!!

Your body mentally cringed at the noise as you pushed the door more open glancing around one more time you slipped in the crack of his door, gently shutting it closed once you entered

‘Wow’ Was the first word that escaped your mouth looking into his room now, it's his office yes, but what was beyond it that made it almost feel like you were..alive it was the bayou swamp/forest it was just how you remembered before you died all those years ago..breathtaking

Scanning the dimly lit area with the only light being a moonless night and the few fireflies that infested the air, you didn’t see Alastor anywhere in sight, just a table with a chair on it in the middle of the grassy forest.

You bite your lip gently as you looked between the paper work and the forest before groaning knowing your mind was made up, as soon as you laid your eyes on the bayou. Leaving the paperwork for Alastor sitting on his wooden desk before you walked passed it and too the bayou landscape filling as it was almost a dream

Walking slowly into the grassy area with a smile as you breathed in the smell of forest closing your eyes and taking in the sound

It was a wonderful moment of quiet before the light noise of static in the forest made you snap your eyes open,.. that’s Alastor getting closer into range of where you were standing.

Being lucky and hopeful you HOPE he didn’t see you in the clearing just standing their with your eyes closed

You ran and hide behind some bushes and trees that were away from the table and chair you were standing near–and just in the nick of time

You could hear and see him from where you were hiding the full static sound of a certain radio demon as he hummed a tune with a deer slumped dead over on his shoulder, carrying it with ease as he slammed it down on the table, you examined as he sat down making a fork appear out of thin air as he leaned his staff against his chair, before disappearing into air as he began to eat the deer raw pulling at its meat–made you want to gag in disgust

‘He could’ve cooked it’ you thought watching him munch down on his hunt you can assume. Licking his lips after a couple of bites he wiped his mouth with a napkin like a true unhinged gentleman

Before he cleared his throat his eyes shutting but his smile spreading wider, causing you to get goosebumps

“I know your there” He said making you do a double take ‘he knows i am here?’ you thought blinking as you didn’t buy his bluff

“I can sense your presence,” he drawled, his voice dripping with a sinister charm.

“You can’t hide from me.” He opened his crimson eyes as they began scanning the area. You kept your movement still as he scanned over the area you were hiding. You saw how he squinted his eyes almost immediately at the bush you were in

“Come out, come out wherever you are” He sang out in a haunting tone

“You do know as a predator.”He started in a cheery tone before his voice dropped to a dual and deep one “ I can smell you out.” His voice ringing of no radio filter

Your heart began to sped up

‘fffuck’ Is what you thought before you seen Alastor disappear into thin air—it wasn’t a surprise you were accustomed to that but you couldn’t help your heart starting to speed up as he vanished into the air

“Run,” a disembodied whisper breathed against your nape

Took you no time of convincing as you ran not looking behind you as you kept your eyes forward only hearing the sound of something chasing behind,

You hit left and right, hoping to get Alastor off of you

As you take another right you ran behind a tree, hiding behind its figure as you heard and felt Alastor run pass you

You have never done something like this, it was rather fun but dangering

Peaking your head from behind the tree after what felt like entirety you didn’t see Alastor for safe measures you transformed yourself to a small forest animal, just in case Alastor wants to sneak behind you..again

Following near your foot trail from the tree branches, you jumped from branch to branch with ease as you stopped once more hearing static noise come from nowhere, you smirked in your creature form as Alastor wouldn’t suspect a thing

Watching from above, his form essentially appeared from thin air as he had a wide smirk and a look of hunger in his eyes as he looked at the spot you were suppose to be standing

“Where are you~?” He said

“…”

After a moment of looking in all the places he would expect and assume for someone to hide, he stood in the middle of the forest arms crossed as his ears flickered now and then

“Now where did they go? I was rather hungrier for something other than deer” He said you can tell by his voice he was almost dumb struck how could he still be able to smell you but your nowhere near..weird?

You slowly shifted yourself backwards away from Alastor as you didn’t want to alarm him nor give away your hiding, you were almost clear before a vibration was felt throughout the branch and in one second the branch snapped as you land ontop of Alastor head

“...”

It was quiet not either one of you dared to move before you felt your body being picked up fully by his hand and now..the jig was up

“What do we have here..” He said looking at you “A small diversion from the person thats in here?”Alastor’s gaze bore into you, dissecting your very essence.

A wicked glint in his eyes began to take place, “Well I guess since I couldn't catch my actual food, I shall eat you little one” Pausing to smug smile before continuing “Bad luck for you?~” He said as he lifted you above his mouth

You squirmed in his hands, heart racing.

‘This can’t be how (y/n)'s story ends’, you thought desperately.

Just as he was about to drop you into his abyssal maw, you shifted—your disguise falling away

You landed on top of Alastor, who staggered back, utterly unprepared.

“Don’t eat me,” you blurted out, adrenaline surging. Alastor stood, bemusement etching his features.

“Lucy?!” Alastor’s voice crackled through the air, a radio filter distorting his words. The static hummed, raising the hairs on your arms.

“Why are you in here?” His step was deliberate, menacing. You retreated, heart pounding.

“How did you make yourself appear small? Then big?” His eyes narrowed, dissecting you. Each step he took, you mirrored, until your back pressed against a tree—literally.

Your mind raced for a lie, an escape. But then it happened—the slip up, the unraveling.

You shifted into your true form, the one Alastor would recognized.

“(Y/N)?!” His voice lost the radio filter, and you met his gaze. Confusion etched his features. You bit your bottom lip, a awkward laugh escaping.

“Erm, surprise…?” You said as you watched him back up a little from you a smile now spreading wider by the minute as the static was the buzz in the air

As it was overtook by the applause he started to emitted as he turned the other way starting to laugh

“A surprise indeed dearie who would’ve know my wife could pull such a thing off” He started.. you didn’t like how this was sounding as you moved away from the tree watching him as he created slight distances between him and yourself

You watched as a nagging feeling was telling you to start running but ignoring that you spoke up “Alastor I-” He cut you off with his words

As he appeared behind you—the Radio Demon, with crimson eyes and a dangerous smile. His arm encircled your waist, pulling you closer. “You had the entire hotel convinced of this Lucy woman,” he murmured, his voice devoid of filters. “Bravo, dearie. Truly bravo.”

You didn’t like how he was taking the situation as what he said to you in a flare voice on confirmed how much you actually DID piss off Alastor with this little disguise

“You should run now.”

Those four words holding a threat of the unknown and you wanting to at least talk for yourself turned to face Alastor his crimson eyes only reflecting the pure chaos he was about to inflict on this game of catch with you, as you shook your head

“Please let me explain” You urged, desperation coloring your voice.

“5” Alastor your dear husband replied, holding out his hand. The air crackled with tension

“Al please—…”

“4..” He sung out as he closed his eyes, standing tall. One hand rested behind his back, the other poised like a pendulum. The smile of him showing his sharp teeth made you swallow harshly

“3” He warned out to you knowing your still there as he opened one eye to look at you breathing out short “Hmm..a shame your going to let me catch you so easy” He said shutting his open eye closed

“2 dearie” He warned out now holding two fingers as he began to shift in his stances his neck elongated he was slowly shifting into his demon form, and that’s when you finally decide to run

You huffed and panted as you switched your form a couple of times to give you longer distances away from Alastor as you made it deeper into the Bayou the ground under you turning slightly squishy as you kept running not interested to turn around

You ran for what felt like hours before you stopped down near a swamp bank hunched on you knees as you gain your second wind, taking a few more breathes you stood up, the air was quiet you couldn’t hear the static of Al, so you have to be far from him? or he just turned off that noise so he could stalk and pounce on you

Whatever the case maybe you took a breathe in and out as you looked ahead of the lake, nothing but more forest—

You thought different ideas like turning into a winged creature and flying back towards the rooms door to get out of here, but you didn’t know how high you could fly and since Alastor can’t fly nor has wings, you doubt that celling is high enough to get high enough where he couldn’t hit you out of air

Best option was to keep running or go into the swamp water, it would give you better opportunity, reflecting your options about it you heard the ground beneath you move with vibrations ‘fuck he already found me’ you thought coming to the defeat you were going to let yourself be caught but that was until you seen that fucken demon form mere seconds before he seen you, you bailed out dipping yourself slowly in the cold water taking a big breathe before dunking yourself under

Seconds stretched into eternity as you held your breath, your lungs screaming for release. The vibrations in the ground intensified, and you knew he was near. What was Alastor going to do when he catched you? He wouldn’t actually hurt his wife? You thought of as your heart hammered against your ribs, and you wondered if you should be actually concerned

Alastor scanned the area, seeking his dear wife. You pressed deeper into the water, your head submerged further, only the top part of your head concealed by a stray lilypad.

Minutes passed—or perhaps it was mere seconds—before you surfaced. Gasping for air, you wiped water from your eyes. Alastor wasn’t in sight.

You continued walk towards the edge of the pond before crawling out of the pond, lying down on the edge of it your knees still submerged as you sighed out in relief, shutting your eyes for what felt like a second

Before you heard, the clearing of a throat—a sound that sent shivers down your spine. Opening your eyes standing above you was the oh-so-familiar radio demon. You smiled, but before you could vanish into the water, Alastor’s grip closed around your arms. His purr was a velvet blade against your skin.

“Come now, darling,” he drawled, his tone deceiving. “We don’t want you to get wet. Let me assist you in this rather…exchange.” His strength pulled you back, and you squirmed, defiance flaring. But Alastor was stronger, and you found yourself pressed against his chest, dripping and caught.

“Let go,” you demanded, but he only laughed—a predator savoring its prey

“Now, dear, this is part of the game.” His eyes bore into yours, crimson flames dancing. “I’ve caught you, and now you’ll be the prize I win.” His tongue flicked across his lips

As Alastor carried you through the forest he hummed a simple tone, making you more on edge

You both arrived at another clearing?

“This isn’t where we started Al” You said as he set you down, gently helping you get up, as your eyes shifted from the scenery to him

Alastor’s gaze was going up and down on you, as you caught little symbols manifesting themselves around him as he was now a step or two away from you

“Come here” He said in a commanding tone, a chain manifesting around your neck as your eyes widen to metal chain outline with the color of green. Your hands immediately shot to your neck trying to grip and claw at it. You felt a tug come towards Al before you leaned your body away from it trying to keep space, digging your feet lightly in the ground

One real yank got you to move forward unprepared, the earth meant your face very quick and you instantly felt blood in your mouth

“Ah, be good for me, Y/N, and just obey,” he murmured, his grip unyielding. You crawled on your knees and hands, inching closer to him. The chain around your neck tightened, lifting you off the ground. Alastor’s crimson eyes bore into yours.

“My dear sweet little wife, Y/N,” he drawled, his voice devoid of filters. Each word carried weight, punctuated by his southern accent. “You, dearie, violated our little agreement.” His fingers traced the chain. “We had an understanding, did we not?”

Your breaths came in ragged gasps. “I didn’t mean to Al” you whispered

His chuckle echoed through the clearing as he lowered you gently to the ground, ensuring the fall didn’t harm you.

“So, my doe,” he began, his voice a velvet blade, “please give me an explanation. Why has my wife been running around disguised as a Lucy person, working—” His fingers closed around your hands, the chain that had bound you vanishing into thin air. “Her dear, softly delicate hands at a hotel that deserves none of her attention?” His words hung in the air, a question wrapped in menace. “Rather than be in a manor that belongs to her and her husband? Have I done something wrong?”

You sighed out as you nodded taking your hands out of his, to his displeasure “All this started because i heard you mumble in your sleep rather a month or so ago..princess name Charlie” You said with embarrassment flaming your checks as you looked away from Alastor not wanting to know what expression he held

The air was quiet between the both of you, not a word was spoken—You felt like you were holding your breathe with the tension in the air before you felt the touch of your husband on your hands again

“Mon cher~” He purred out making you look at him, his face of course held a wide smile but the look in his eyes held anger with something else glimmering around it “Nothing could replace you”

“No hotel” He said his hand holding out your arm as he kissed at the palm before saying, “No demon” Alastor continued raising his head kissing you at the center of your arm, looking at you in the eyes before kissing more up your arm while saying “And certainly no Lucifer daughter could take my eye off of something as ravishing as you my doe~” Al kissing up you between each pause as he at your neck slowly peaking at it having you basically in his lap with your back towards him, as you moved your head to side to let him continue as he only chuckle at the gesture

Al with his free hand grabbing at your chin to make you look at him as he stared into your (e/c) “But my dear mon cher, you agree at my words as if you understand, but it seems as though you forgotten who I belong too” He said letting go of your chin as both of his hands traveled down to your hips resting there “You forget who's name causes thrill of different emotions within me, so let me remind you~”

Alastor leaned into you, as you meant him half way kissing him

A passionate kiss with some underline aggression made the kiss much more thrilling as Alastor fought for dominance with you trying to dominate over him

With a deep chuckle he pulled away from the kiss, “You being defiant won’t end well for you dear” You looked up too him as you bite your lower lip holding on too his bow tie slowly undoing it as his hands trailed up and down your legs

“No words so be it” He shrugged before pushing you down to the ground, your back laying on the grass as he spread your legs open wide, everything on full display for him to see

He leaned his head down as his ears pushed back towards his head as his eyes half lidded looking up to a red face you “Mm~Darling your so intoxicating with that look on your face” He said before plunging his head down open his mouth before eating your pussy

Your eyes shut closed as your hands went immediately to his hair gripping and pulling at it, as you mumbled out moans holding onto Alastor head down as he kept eating you out

“Al~!” You said in low moan as you felt yourself starting to come undone down there “Alastor..I..I am going to—”

Before you could muster and get out the words to warn your husband, the sensation of Alastor mouth moved away from you leaving you in almost blank state, so close to clarity but yet so far …

You whimpered as you looked down to Alastor who’s face was smirking as he shook his head licking his lips slightly “You think after the charade you pulled your going to get to cum that quick and easily?” He said and laughed “Dearie we are just starting.”

Alastor in a instances flipped you over making you rise to all fours with help of his shadows tendrils you were now ass up face down, with your arms being held down by the shadows tendrils, you whimpered trying to move against them as you felt a burning sensation on your bottom causing you to move it from side to side

Alastor watched in trans like state as you moved your ass after he smacked it only making his boner go harder, as he rub on it through his pants

“Al, let me out of this! I don’t want to be—Ahh~!”You said feeling a familiar feeling slide in you as your eyes rolled behind you, you clawed at the grass alastor pushed all himself in you

“Mmm~There you go Mon Cher~” Alastor said rolling his hips as his head tilted backwards, both of his hands gripping on your hips keeping them in place as he began slowly pumping in and out of you

You moaned as you moved with his thrusts, arching your back as Al grunts and low moans could be heard

Alastor started to pick up in speed as you could only speak out the simple word “Al~” Which was music to the radio demons ears

“Oh (Y/n)~” He said as he kept up fast with his thrusts moving one his hand to your hair, gripping at it pulling you backwards as your head flung back

“Open your eyes.” He said making you slowly open your eyes as meant with the eyes of crimson red ones as his smile was deceiving as his eyes showed pure lust that was feeling “Fuck.” He said as gripped tighter on your hair yanking almost at the root as you moaned with each thrust

“I am going to finish in you.” He said in not a question but as a command as you tighten around him bring him closer as he shut his eyes letting go of your hair before opening his mouth and bitting at the back of your neck as you moaned closing your eyes feeling yourself reaching edge as you reached climax sametime as Alastor

Couple months later drawed by quick before you knew it you were back at the manor, watching over Al’s territory sipping tea as you smiled mindlessly, yeah there was really nothing to worry about.

FIN!!!

Extra! Extra!

(Y/n) and Al strolling through the park. hand in hand as Al hums a tune

Al: “I do say mon cher, I think I never told you why I was saying Charlie's name”

Y/n: “Yeah you haven’t, do share”

Al: “You wouldn’t believe it! Charlie in my dream was trying to paint my Radio Studio, it was all going to be rainbows with fluffy pink unicorns if I didn’t say her name”

Y/n: deadpans

Al: Only telling you the truth dearie~!sings out

Y/n: Your truth is utter dogshit sometimes

Al: gasp Darling!

527 notes · View notes

sallage · 3 months

Text

Red

The Unexpected Fight Series

Part 3

Warning: This is a tickle fic! - Crossed boundaries and ignored safe word.

Summary: With a renewed sense of determination, Bakugo prepares for his first round of training with Kirishima. Set up like an interrogation, Bakugo must try to withstand the pressure and make it through the full 20 minutes without giving in or giving up.

Pairing: Lee Bakugo, Ler Kirishima

Words: 4,372

Reading Time: 17 Minutes

A/N: So I lied and posted this earlier then I said I would which technically is still super late. I’ll admit I did not proof read this so it might be sloppy but I finished it and wanted it out there haha.

I'm going to sound like a broken record but I'm probably never going to be fully okay with the stories I post. I'll always be wishing I could either pump more into it, be more descriptive, stay true to characters, or add more dialogue. There will always be something I wish I can do or change, but then I wouild never post anything.

Anyways I hope you all enjoy! LOL

Read more ∘₊✧ Here ✧₊∘

Bakugo scowled at the clock as the minutes ticked by with relentless consistency. His gaze was unwavering in its focus as his eyes fixed on the hands, watching as they spun around the clock face in a slow revolution.

With each passing minute, the dread of meeting up with Kirishima for training weighed heavier and heavier upon his shoulders, and though he tried to resist, he could feel the pressure mounting for him to leave, sooner rather than later.

With the encounter in the forest still fresh in his mind, Bakugo felt a surge of renewed energy running through his body. There was a new fire burning within him, an intense and searing flame that would not be easily extinguished.

A knock at the door pulled Bakugo out of his introspective thoughts and set him on a trajectory for confrontation. He threw open the door, his aggressive eyes immediately finding Deku in the doorway, hand still stuck in the knocking position. Their gazes locked in a tense moment before Deku slowly lowered his hand.

“Hey,” Deku took a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I’m just reminding you about training. You should have left already.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Bakugo narrowed his eyes. “I know what time it is.”

He closed the door behind him and walked out.

Midoriya followed close behind.

“We’re working on endurance today. We’re going to give you a code and you have to hold onto it for 20 minutes.”

Bakugo’s scowl was his only response.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, the two rivals a healthy distance between one another before Midoriya worked up the nerve to speak again.

“I know this is… not what you’re used to,” Midoriya sighed, looking for words that wouldn’t get him pummeled. “Anyway, we’re all here for you.”

“Just… shut up.” Bakugo cringed. The lack of angst in his voice wasn't lost on Midoriya. His friend was nervous and didn't want to be catered to.

After walking in silence for a bit longer, one sideways glance at the blonde told him all he needed to know about what his friend was silently wondering.

“It’s at Ground Beta in one of the buildings towards the end of the campus. We got permission to use it and it’s far enough away that no one will hear you.”

Bakugo scoffed but Midoriya swore he saw a bit of tension leave the blonde’s shoulders.

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

—

Once inside the building, they walked down a flight of stairs and entered the basement where Kirishima and Kaminari were lounging on a couple of bean bags playing Nintendo switches.

The boys paused their game and greeted them with energetic hellos. Bakugo looked past them and saw a random table next to a thick metal chair positioned right in the middle of the room with wrist and ankle cuffs attached to the arms and legs.

He resisted the urge to react as a bolt of nervous energy speared through him.

“Where’s Sero and Todoroki?” Midoriya wondered.

An irritated sigh sounded next to him.

“We figured Bakugo didn’t want people watching him get absolutely wrecked.” Kaminari teased with a smug smile, earning a growl from Bakugo. “Kiri lugged the chair up and I brought the bean bags and Switches. I guessed you were going to be late.”

“Besides,” Kirishima started before Bakugo could retort. “Todoroki’s got the next one, they’re going to be sparring.”

Bakugo’s lips quirked at that. He could already picture himself blasting that half and half bastard into oblivion.

“Bakugo!” Kaminari waved to get his attention. “You got your murder eyes on!”

Bakugo looked at Kaminari and then back to Kirishima. “You idiots don’t expect me to sit in that.” He jerked his chin towards the center of the room.

Kirishima’s face tightened. “Yeah, sorry man. All that matters is that it can hold you without breaking or moving. It’s pretty heavy duty.”

Bakugo clicked his tongue. “Whatever.”

Midoriya clapped his hands. “I’m going to head back. I’ll see you guys after!” He waved as he exited the room.

“Hey, wait up!” Kaminari put a hand on Bakugo’s shoulder, leaned in and whispered something into Bakugo’s ear. With another encouraging slap that earned a sneer, Kaminari disappeared up the stairs after Midoriya.

Once the sound of their footfalls faded, Kirishima turned to Bakugo.

“Alright!” He exclaimed, clapping his hands together and gesturing towards the chair. “Let’s get started!”

Bakugo stood firm in his place, defiantly staring down at the chair and refusing to budge. He couldn't explain it, but he just could not bring himself to sit down. His body refused to obey the mental command. It was as if his pride and stubbornness had taken over and would not allow him to surrender to that damn chair.

“Bakugo,” Kirishima tilted his head. “You need to-”

“I don’t need you to tell me what to do.” Bakugo snapped.

“Okay, then what’s stopping you?”

Bakugo's pride and stubbornness continued to war within him, keeping him on the brink of either giving in or resisting even further.

On one hand, a part of him could not bring himself to compromise his pride and dignity by losing control and being reduced to a blubbering mess in front of one of the only people he respected. And on the other hand, standing his ground and continuing to resist meant giving up completely and admitting defeat.

He was finding himself stuck in this weird state of limbo where he knew what he needed to do but physically could not make himself do it.

Kirishima was quick to notice the internal struggle that Bakugo was grappling with.

“We don’t have to do this.”

No responce.

Kirishima recognized that Bakugo's desire to not participate wasn’t a complete one. The blonde still stood there within the presence of the chair, which meant there was still some potential in convincing him to follow through. Kiri knew that all Bakugo needed was a slight push in the right direction.

Kirishima adopted a more challenging tone and delivered a playful smirk, knowing Bakugo's pride was the key. “I get why you might not want to do it. It might be too intense for you.”

Bakugo met kirishima’s stare, uncharacteristically quiet.

“I saw how you were in the forest,” Kirishima continued, shrugging. “If I were you, I probably couldn't handle it either. Lets go back.” He began walking towards the exit, but a quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that the other didn't follow.

Kirishima paused at the bottom of the stairs and crossed his arms over his chest.

Bakugo mumbled a few curses before walking up and plopping into the cold chair. Kirishima with a smile full of pride for his friend, rushed over to his side.

One look at the red head’s face and Bakugo was looking away with an eye roll. “This is just to prove your dumbass wrong.”

Kirishima shrugged and went to work, efficiently securing Bakugo's wrists and ankles to the four points of the chair. He took a few steps back to survey his work. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't resist letting out a slight chuckle at the scowl on Bakugo's face.

“Okay, try to get out.”

Bakugo grumbled and attempted to tug at the cuffs but the sturdy restraints didn’t give an inch. Bakugo's brows drew together as he wrenched at them harder. The cuffs were much sturdier than he anticipated, and he realized that the wiggle room he would typically get with thinner restraints was not an option due to the thick cuffs covering most of his wrists.

As he wrenched at them one more time, he was met with the same result and he realized that without the use of his quirk, he was truly stuck.

Bakugo felt a tug of uneasiness deep within him. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Was it doubt? Nervousness? Anxiety? Or was it something else altogether? He couldn't quite place it, but he knew it was something that he didn't particularly like.

Kirishima nodded encouragingly. “Ready?”

Bakugo attempted to maintain a bored and unbothered demeanor. “I’m not doing this role play garbage with you.”

Kirishima took out his phone and started the timer.

Twenty Minutes.

He placed it on the table so they both could see it.

“We’re not roleplaying. Kaminari gave you a code and you’re not supposed to tell me.”

Bakugo scowled and tested the restraints again.

“I’ll ask nicely first,”

Bakugo's face warped into a mix of a cringe and a scowl as Kirishima moved to stand directly in front of him.

“What did Kaminari tell you?”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. “This is stupid.”

Kirishima just smiled and patted his shoulder as he walked around the blonde’s chair. Bakugo found himself feeling a small twinge of relief as he no longer had to look at Kirishima, but this small comfort was soon replaced with a sensation of unease as Kirishima pushed two strong hands through the little gaps between the blonde’s sides and arms, leaving them poised to strike.

His body tensed.

But his expression remained unchanging as Kirishima pinched his sides repeatedly.

Even though Kirishima believed the blonde was just saving face, he was still surprised by the lack of reaction. He thought back to the forest, trying to remember what it was that initially set him off.

Then, it hit him.

He stopped the harsh poking and pinching and changed his approach, softly tracing his fingers over the fabric of Bakugo's shirt.

Bakugo's body stiffened and twitched as his muscles convulsed under the touch of Kirishima's tracing fingertips, which the red head took as a small victory.

There it was.

He continued the gentle approach, moving his tracing and scratching motions inward towards the the inner edges of Bakugo's sides where they turned into his stomach.

Bakugo's jaw was tight, then he bit down on the inside of his cheek. The gentle touch and light scribbles were making him flinch as his muscles began to twitch in response. Every time Kirishima's fingers moved across his skin, Bakugo's body reacted, causing him to bite his cheek harder to suppress them.

Kirishima's fingers shifted lower to Bakugo's waist and began teasing the space above his hips, right above the waistline of his pants, prompting the explosive blonde to let out a small twitch and perform some subtle micro-movements which Kirishima was quick to notice. Kirishima then moved his hands down to Bakugo's hips and hovered over them, motionless.

Bakugo clenched his teeth. “Stop messing with m-”

Kirishima pressed his thumbs deep into Bakugo's hips, moving them in slow, deliberate circles. The intense and invasive prodding caused Bakugo to let out a soft groan before jerking his wrists and tugging at the cuffs in a moment of weakness.

Kirishima smiled triumphantly.

“I’m barely touching you, man.”

Kirishima found himself almost giddy with amusement, knowing he had the perfect thing to push Bakugo's buttons. Of course, he was well aware of Bakugo's fiery personality and explosive nature, but nothing had ever come close to shaking his composure or forcing him to let loose.

This newfound knowledge was proving to be quite valuable, and Kirishima couldn't help but wonder just how effective it would prove to be in keeping the unpredictable blonde in check in the future. It gave him a huge rush of accomplishment and satisfaction to realize how much he had thrown Bakugo's composure out the window with just the slight twitch of his fingers.

“Shut up.” Bakugo growled.

Kirishima increased the pressure on his thumbs and sped up the movement, digging harder into Bakugo's hips. Bakugo's legs strained in effort and he let out a quick gasp, his breath starting to come in shorter and sharper inhales.

Kirishima didn’t even try to suppress the smirk on his face. “You just gotta tell me what Kaminari told you.”

Bakugo could hear the amusement in Kirishima’s tone.

“What the hell are you smiling about?”

Kirishima snickered behind him and the blonde’s face grew red.

“Wipe that smirk off your damn face!”

Kirishima tutted. “You’re not really in a position to be making threats, you know.”

“You think I give a shit? I’ll wipe that stupid smirk off yo- GAH!”

Kirishima teased his way up towards the bottom of Bakugo's ribs, pushing past his attempt to speak. Bakugo tensed up and gripped the chair, awaiting the attack that-

Didn't come.

Kirishima shifted, bringing his fingers back to Bakugo's hips and starting again with the slow, subtle, and teasing touches. Each time Kirishima seemed like he was beginning to attack Bakugo's ribs, he would quickly and smoothly transition back to the hips.

The constant shifting between the two points was causing Bakugo to flinch and spasm each time Kirishima faked out an attack.

The repetitive tickling motion was beginning to have a cumulative effect on Bakugo. The constant upward jerking of his body each time Kirishima's fingers danced closer to his ribs caused Bakugo's temper to flair.

Bakugo shouted out an expletive when Kirishima baited him yet again. Losing a toehold on his temper.

"Stop fucking with me," he shouted, his rage boiling over, "You're pissing me off!"

Bakugo was already on edge from the teasing and prodding, so when Kirishima shrugged and suddenly launched into an outright offensive attack on his lower rib cage, he let out a loud shout of surprise.

“FUHUCK!” Bakugo bit down on his lip and gritted his teeth as he struggled to hold in his laughter while Kirishima continued to relentlessly strike the soft and sensitive points on his lower rib cage.

Bakugo tried to cover the area by turning in his elbows, but he was tightly confined in place. Bakugo let out frustrated gasps and grunts in lieu of giggles as Kirishima continued to hit those sweet spots.

Kirishima was playing for keeps now, his expression serious and focused as he relentlessly pursued Bakugo's lower ribcage.

With his eyes starting to water from suppressing his laughter and the relentless attack from Kirishima's fingers, he glanced frantically around the room, searching for some type of distraction that could take his mind off the tickling. He set his eyes on Kirishima’s phone.

Fifteen minutes left.

He knew that he was running out of time to keep any sort of composure and preserve any scrap of dignity he had left.

Unfortunately, Kirishima couldn't let that happen.

Kirishima adjusted his grip and spread out his fingers to provide himself with more of a surface area to work with. He quickly began to viciously burrow his fingers into Bakugo's ribcage, aggressively rubbing and vibrating them in a large circular motion with speed and intensity.

“AHHHAhahahaha!”

Bakugo arched his back and let out a loud burst of laughter, his restraint nearly completely broken as he was unable to hold back his reaction, caught off guard by Kirishima actually following through with the attack this time.

Kirishima finally succeeded in pushing Bakugo close to the edge, and the explosive blonde’s embarrassment was evident in the way he wrenched at his bonds.

The red head was determined to see this through to the end, inching further and further up towards the spot he knew would make Bakugo spill all the marbles. The laughter became louder and more desperate as Kirishima moved closer to the sensitive area, causing Bakugo to struggle against the cuffs even harder.

Instead, Kirishima suddenly dropped his fingers back down to Bakugo's hips and started applying as much ticklish pressure as possible, pressing hard into the sensitive areas on the inside of the explosive blonde’s hips. Kirishima felt like he was getting close as Bakugo bucked and tried and failed to contain his laughter, spluttering and trying pull away from the excruciatingly ticklish sensations.

“ShihIHIHT! YOU MAHTHER FAHAHAHAKER! AGHH! STAHAHAHAP!”

“You know what you gotta tell me to make it stop!”

Bakugo continued to buck and pull on his arms and legs, desperate to get away from the maddening sensations. Kirishima continued his relentless attack on Bakugo's hips, keeping the pressure steady.

Bakugo could only manage a few inches of movement and Kirishima kept pace, not letting his friend have even a moment of respite.

“STAHAHAHHAP, KIRISHIMA DAMN IT! FAAAHAHAHAHAK!”

“Tell me!” Kirishima had to yell over Bakugo’s laughter so he could hear him. “Give it up and I’ll stop!”

Bakugo shook his head and slammed it against the headrest, his movements getting more desperate and wild as he tried to find some type of relief. Kirishima shifted himself forward and pushed his arms further through the gaps in the chair before moving down to the spaces below Bakugo's hips at the top of his thighs.

He used four fingers on each side to really dig into the ticklish blonde’s pelvis. Bakugo groaned as if he was experiencing some type of pain and tried to fold in on himself, lifting his shoulders only a few inches off of the backrest.

“AAAHHH! KIRISHIMA! DAMN IT STAHAHAHAHAHAP! ILL KIHIHIHIL YOU! AAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHO!”

“The code-”

“FAHAH- FUCK YOU! I CAAHHHAHAHAHAHAHNT REHEHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

His laughter spiked when Kirishima squeezed his thighs, his voice getting hoarse.

“NOHOHOHO! SHIT STAHAHAHAP! WHAHAHT THE FAHAHAHAK!”

Kirishima stopped. Bakugo slumped, he felt sweat pool around his head and slide down his back. His eyes closed and his breathing was fast.

Time must have been up.

“Was- Was that tiiIIMMMAAAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH! NAAHAHAHAHA!”

Kirishima shoved his hands into the blonde’s armpits, causing his body to seize as if he had been struck by lightning. The intense and relentless rubbing and undulating of Kirishima's fingers caused a sensation that Bakugo did not expect, forcing him to let loose and release an unusually high-pitched scream as his body was overrun with intense, indescribable tickles.

The suddenness of Kirishima's move straight up overwhelmed Bakugo, and he struggled to clamp his arms down and move his body away, but the restraints simply would not budge.

“AHHH! AHA AHAHAH NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!”

Kirishima watched Bakugo lose all composure. His laughter shifted to a grueling and desperate note, and Kirishima could see his resolve completely crumble when his eyebrows lifted and it looked like he was completely lost in the sensations. But Kirishima didn't relent, determined to tickle the information he needed out of his friend.

“RED! REHEHEHEHED! KIRISHIMA RED! I FAAHAHAHAHA- I FOHOHO- GAHAHAHAHA THAHAHA- NAAHAHAHA!”

Kirishima shook his head. Bakugo had the code and could easily end it at any instant, but he didn’t, instead using his safe word as a cop out.

Kirishima decided that he would have to give the code and only the code, admitting full defeat in the challenge, or Kirishima would continue until he truly gave up or until the twenty minutes were up.

He refused to give the blonde any kind of bragging rights, especially if he didn't deserve it.

“Come on, man! You know you need to give up the code!”

Bakugo shook his head and repeatedly slammed his shoulders against the backrest. “STAHAHAHAHAP!”

Kirishima looked at the timer.

Ten minutes left.

There was still time.

Kirishima moved his fingers downward slowly, and Bakugo's eyes shot open and his struggling intensified dramatically. The pitch of Bakugo's laughter began to rise in intensity and echo loudly through the basement, the sound magnified by the close walls and low ceilings.

Though he was moving his hands slowly towards the spot he knew Bakugo just could not stand, Kirishima was determined to reach the ultimate goal and cause his friend to completely give up.

“NO! NONONAHAHAHAHA! KIRI! WAIT- STAHAHAHP! AHH! NO DOHOHONT!”

When Kirishima finally hit it, the spot on his upper ribs right underneath his arms, there was a moment of silence as the blonde jerked violently in his restraints.

Then Bakugo screamed.

“AAAHHHHH AHAHAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!”

He banged his head against the headrest and violently pulled on his arms, the skin peaking through underneath the cuffs red and scratched. He bucked his hips and tried to twist his body. He clenched and unclenched his fists, baby explosions shooting out of them. But Kirishima kept going, knowing Bakugo was approaching his limit if not already there. He dug in harder and wiggled his fingers faster.

“KIRIHIHIHHIHI———————— AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA! REHEHE ——————————! STAHAHAHA——————————! I CAHAH——————————!”

As Bakugo's body was transported into the realm of silent laughter, tears flowed freely down his burning face. As if it were possible, the blonde struggled even harder against the restraints, his struggles becoming increasingly violent and frenetic as his body jerked and slammed around, slightly scooting the heavy chair. Bakugo's explosions grew in size, slowly expanding and beginning to sting Kirishima's skin.

For a moment, Kirishima regarded Bakugo’s dramatic reactions with confusion, wondering why he didn't just give up if it was that unbearable. Kirishima lightened his touch at the thought considering calling off the entire thing and giving his friend a break.

Then Bakugo took a rare breath and screamed.

“CEREAL! THE DAHAHAHAHMN CODE- IT’S CEREAL!’ NOHOW FUCKING STAAAHAAHAHAHHAHAP!”

Kirishima quickly backed off and dropped his hands. Bakugo dropped into the chair in a deep slump and breathed hard, his body exhausted and yet somehow continued to buzz with adrenaline. He kept his eyes shut and let out a loud and deep groan, attempting to collect himself as his aching body continued to respond with twitches and jolts to strong phantom tickles. His face and neck were flushed, and the small beads of sweat dripped off his hair, betraying the exertion he had just endured.

After a few minutes, Kirishima chewed his lip and spoke quietly. “You okay, man?”

Kirishima didn't receive any verbal response.

He stood up and circled the chair, leaning over take a look at Bakugo from the side. The blonde looked horrible. His face and neck were all sweaty and he completely collapsed into that chair as if he were boneless.

Kirishima had a gut wrenching, agonizing feeling that he had inadvertently pushed his friend too far. It didn't feel like it even mattered at this point whether Bakugo was being honest or using the safe word merely as a cop-out in order to avoid a full concession of defeat. One look at his friend, and Kirishima knew he should have stopped.

But why didn't he just give up the damn code?

“Why did you use the safe word instead of giving up the code?”

Again, no verbal response.

“Bakugo, answer me.”

“Don't give me orders.” Bakugo mumbled.

“Bakugo!”

“I forgot the fucking code.” Bakugo admitted coldly, spitting the words out like acid.

Kirishima blanched.

There was too much going on, his mind must have been in shambles.

Bakugo regarded his look of sympathy with a disgusted scoff. “I ended up remembering it so it doesn't fucking matter.”

Kirishima was speechless. Bakugo had reached his limit long before he stopped, and he kept going. Guilt pounded into his chest like a jackhammer. Of course he would use the safe word if he forgot.

It was a fucking safe word.

If Bakugo had any trust in him, Kirishima felt it dissolve like cotton candy dipped in water.

“I- I’m so-”

“Shut up. I don't want to hear it.”

“But-”

“I said to shut it, damn it!”

Sighing and turning his head, Kirishima understood that if he tried to push, it would only make things worse. Instead, he looked at his phone.

two minutes remained on the clock.

“You lasted a long time.”

Bakugo coughed, still looking exhausted. “No I didn’t, you idiot.”

Kirishima let silence hang in the air as he started undoing the cuffs.

Once freed, Bakugo stood out of the chair and stretched.

Then they exited the basement together in silence.

—

The air between Kirishima and Bakugo was thick as the two of them walked back to the main sidewalk in complete silence. Bakugo looked down toward the ground, keeping his hands in his pockets, appearing to be deep in thought. Kirishima kept side eyeing him, the expression on the blonde’s face unreadable.

Kirishima remained silent for the remainder of walk and allowed the tension to build and linger in the air, letting Bakugo stew in his own thoughts and emotions.

Once they reached the dorms, Kirishima whirled on Bakugo before he could reach for the handle on the front door.

“Look man, I know you don’t wanna hear it, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn't stop. I should’ve put two and two together and stopped the minute you said the safe word. It was dumb and a violation and-” Kirishima looked into his eyes, willing Bakugo to see his regret. “I’m sorry.”

Kirishima maintained his gaze, not breaking off for a second while waiting for Bakugo to make his decision. Bakugo's stare was filled with disdain and anger, as the flush on the blonde’s cheeks almost faded and his fists were clenched tightly in his pockets. They remained poised for a moment, before Bakugo gave a curt nod.

Kirishima sighed, the guilt he had been feeling still there, but less suffocating. He knew Bakugo was going to need time, but at least the blonde didn't completely hate him.

Kirishima turned and opened the door entering the building and holding it open for his friend.

The dorms were bustling with life and activity, as students settled in for the evening and gathered to partake in fun activities such as watching a movie and eating snacks. Kirishima sighed as Bakugo brushed past everyone and headed towards his room without a word, ignoring everyone who greeted him and offered an invite to stay.

Midoriya turned to Kirishima a questioning look, but Kirishima could only shake his head in response.

Bakugo wasn't just mad at Kirishima.

He was mad because once again,

He’d lost.

#tickle blog #tickle community #tickle fic #ticklish!bakugou #bnha tickle #lee!bakugou #mha tickle #t word community #sallage-mha #ler!kirishima

60 notes · View notes

skylights422 · 28 days

Text

New X-Men '97 tomorrow! I am very excited! But I also had meant to make more posts reviewing the first three episodes. It was going to be multiple posts over different topics, but I am short on time and organizational energy, so I am just gonna make two posts over the biggest topics: The Romance Drama, and The Plot. Romance drama first! It got Long, so it's under a cut. xD (And a quick disclaimer that any negative opinions on the canon writing of couples doesn't mean I dislike people for shipping any of it; I almost never ship anything personally just as a matter of personal preference, but am very much a Ship And Let Ship/Don't Like Don't Read kind of person)

First, I will just say that the Jean/Scott/Logan drama was...always the most boring and confusing part to me in the 90s show? I just didn't feel like they did enough to show why Wolverine was SO in love with her when it seemed like they never spent any time together normally or had any major bonding moments? So I felt like he was just pining based on appearance and the fact they were teammates, which...is fine I guess but not the sweeping, dramatic unrequited love it was always portrayed as.

(I mean Wolverine was so torn up about them getting married he REFUSED TO ATTEND and instead spent time trying to kill an illusion version of Scott in the Danger Room, that's. Very dramatic! And for what? Maybe they covered it a little bit in an episode I haven't re-watched yet but I remember Past Me at least not finding the explanation impressive enough lollll)

So, I'm not...super looking forward to more of it in this new show, but also expecting it since it was always such a feature. I'd rather not have Jean kinda date Logan just because she's mad at Scott and Logan wants to? But it won't shock me. By and large I have made peace with my dislike for that particular love triangle since I'm otherwise such a fan of both series. (And so far anyways Logan has been a little less weird about his unrequited feelings even if they're still pretty obvious)

THEN we have the Rogue and Magneto romance. This one I have had more mixed feelings on. My kneejerk reaction was confusion and dislike - I didn't know until I looked it up after the episode that they were together in the comics, and since they weren't in the previous show, it felt...really random. (Also I am just not much a fan of couples with large age gaps, obviously Rogue is an adult and can do what she wants, it's just not my cup of tea. Plus Rogue and Gambit is one of maybe, like...five? Couples in media? That I have any investment in AS a romantic couple lol, but mostly I was just not looking forward to more romantic drama in general since it's just not something I tend to enjoy much)

Now I have two opinions. One is simply that I am Over feeling bothered by it and just curious to see what they do with it, since Rogue and Magneto do have some compelling thematic reasons to have scenes together anyways. And Rogue and Gambit definitely COULD have a mature conversation about it, which would actually be pretty neat.

Now my main quibble is that it was introduced so suddenly, and with so little explanation. As a general rule, I do NOT consider 'it happened in the source material' to be a valid excuse for anything in an adaptation unless it also makes sense within the established lore/characterization/etc. of the adaptation itself. A Doylist explanation existing does not remove the need for a solid Watsonian one, and if there just...isn't a Watsonian explanation, then I feel it is lazy writing at best, actually terrible writing if done badly enough.

There's definitely still time for them to give some kind of flashback or explanation for Rogue and Magneto though! You can introduce new aspects to character's pasts, in general. So I am holding out my final opinion to see if they do that, and in what way.

On a smaller, technically still hypothetical note, next for romance drama we have: Morph crushing on Wolverine. I do agree that it's extremely possible, even likely, that Morph seeming Interested in Wolverine in this version is deliberate - I mainly say hypothetical because I have seen some VERY overtly queercoded stories/scenes/etc. be written genuinely by accident, and at this point I'm really not sure how it was intended (like, if it's meant to be anything bigger than the scene itself or not).

And once again, I have mixed feelings on it. On one hand, having an openly gay character in an X-Men cartoon is good! It's nice to see some diversity in orientation. And Morph makes sense since they are the closest to a blank slate as you can get with a pre-established character, only being in nine episodes total of the original series - very spread out ones, as well.

But well, there's two reasons I feel kind of egh about it. One is that nearly all the Established Duos that got a lot of attention in the original show were romantic ones, and as someone who is fundamentally more invested emotionally in non-romances, I really liked the thought of having a best friend duo to fixate on. (We do still have Magneto and Xavier but XAVIER IS DEAD RIGHT NOW SO IT ONLY HALF COUNTS)

The other is that it...would almost definitely be another unrequited crush. Which for one, is just drama that isn't interesting to me. But also I dunno if 'sad gay bravely accepts never getting with the love of their life' is amazing rep for...friendships OR gay people??? Like you could write it so that Morph is genuinely fine being 'just' friends, and maybe in an ideal world that would even kick Wolverine into considering he could maybe be More Normal About Jean. But I worry about their friendship falling apart or it being made out to be 'not enough' to Morph and ultimately just making everyone look bad (and also if they push too hard on the Sad Morph Angle I feel like it could just be another case of villainizing people for not returning affections which I just, REALLY HATE)

SO I'M ON EDGE ABOUT IT. Possibly they won't do much with the concept at all, which I'd frankly prefer. Possibly they'll find a way to write the one-sided romance that is actually considerate to both sides and doesn't destroy their friendship. Possibly they'll even introduce other gay couples somewhere in the show so the rep for it isn't all riding on Morph's shoulders! But I am also very aware how easy it would be to do this wrong. SO WE'LL SEE.

#x-men 97 #x men 97 #possibly could be seen as ship negativity? In that I'm critical of most of the romance stuff in the show lol #but honestly I don't hate any ships I just don't care about or enjoy romance in fiction most of the time #but have enjoyed it in stories just ENOUGH times that I know where my somewhat particular preferences lie #honestly though despite the critiques/concerns this actually is not a huge issue to me in terms of having fun with the show

6 notes · View notes

littlenighttales · 8 months

Text

If you’ve been here for a minute, you know the drill. Spoilers for chapter 4 of The Sounds of Nightmares, writing my thoughts as I listen to it for the first time (+ some extra edits in the parenthesis for extra thoughts on it after a few extra listens.)

Here we go. E4. Go. Go listen to this before reading this.

The Sounds of Nightmares

Two of a Kind

Yeah… so this one gets a bit philosophical at the beginning. Going on about duality and whatnot. Also have I mentioned how the main theme for this series absolutely slaps? Because it’s very good.

So Noone’s outside a reunion, but she can’t go in. It’s a bunch of happy kids outside playing and laughing. Otto gets Noone cake from it though (:

Apparently the room has a two way mirror, so they can look out but not in. Creepy. Otto spills the beans on the creepy disappearance. I’ll go ahead and mention I’m glad I don’t have to rewrite my happy ending story.

Obviously Noone starts freaking out about just straight up getting yeeted into what I’d dare compare to hell on Earth. She thought before they were just nightmares. But… nope.

Noone hates being alone, Otto reassures her a bit. He’s not seeming like a bad guy here lately. Just… having a bit of selfish-selfless motives. Doing sort of bad things for someone himself, but more for someone he knows. Does that make sense?

Wherever Noone was, there were happy kids! Carnival. LN3 teasers? But this is Little Nightmares, so I’m fully expecting the poop/fan collision within seconds.

The kids start talking more like teenagers, a bit weird. Suspecting we’ll see the “I don’t want to grow up” bit from Noone again. A kid named Rusty takes Noone for a ride- Ferris wheel. Also sky boats.

Rusty and his friends aren’t fans of being there. They’re basically slaves. Figures the bad news would come. Happy time lasted longer than expected.

Rebellion is planned. Noone gets assigned to lookout.

What the frick. Rusty sounding like he’s plotting his own death.

They stop talking about the “nightmare” to talk about going to the Nowhere. He opens up a little bit about CiCi. Noone figures out why Otto has been working with her like this. Finds out about his motives. She’s uncomfortable. But. He. Keeps. Pushing.

Noone mentions that the people of this world have distorted faces. Carnival guests a lot like the Maw guests. Definitely near or at the Carnival of LN3, I think

Magic show made Noone forget she’s a lookout. Mentions it’s like she’s under a spell. Ferryman is back?

Nope. It’s the carnival owner? He’s got no eyes. And a dummy made of a kid(?), maybe an adult? Noone says it looks like a smaller man. It sounds like it could be a Chuckie moment.

Noone tries so hard to warn the other kids.

And that dummy is definitely a possessed one. Dang, Chuckie moment.

Noone has a panic attack, some serious PTSD, sounds like ):

Someone hug the poor kid. Get that child a fluffy goat kid to hug!

Otto mentions the Ferryman by that name rather than Candleman. He’s all the more determined to go to the Nowhere. I know this is the same length as the other episodes, but it feels so much shorter!! Argh! It’s gonna be a long wait for next week! (Hey, future me here! Yeah, so I wrote this on the spot the day it was released, and yeah… still a long wait as of Saturday lol)

Good episode, but E3 is still the best so far imo.

We’ll probably see Noone get reverse-raptured (for lack of a better term) again next episode, maybe Otto finds his way to follow her.

#little nightmares spoilers #ln spoilers #the sounds of nightmares #tson #spoilers #episode four #two of a kind #little nightmares 3

14 notes · View notes

autumninthelibrary · 2 years

Text

In defense of the Actor, and the importance of subplot

Okay I’ve had a lot of time to think about what I wanted to write on first regarding ISWM, and the more I sit and think on it the more I find myself shoehorned into writing about Yancy as a plot device

It should go without saying, but spoilers below this point, and it’s a long read so apologies in advance lol

Yancy exists within this story line as a brief look into the Actor’s psyche. Their stories are fairly parallel; they’ve experienced a lot of grief thanks in large part to their own actions and reactions to events, they’ve both got anger issues and violent tendencies, they adore to create for the people around them and they exist as part of a system that operates outside of standard society, with Yancy’s being the prison system and the Actor’s being whatever universal gook he Dark and Will operate in thanks to their time spent in the house.

So if you haven’t watched @eddeha’s video yet, one where have you fucking been but two a fairly significant point he makes in this is that most of the egos that we have seen thus far aren’t actually true egos in the sense that Dark and Wilford are, but rather simply roles that the Actor takes on so he can still act in his projects after his starter role has been displaced. Operating under this logic, Yancy would also be one of those roles the Actor took on after his main role was beat the fuck out of in the prison. Like I said earlier, there are a large number of similarities between the role of Yancy and the backstory of the Actor, and this makes it easier for a little bit of truth to sort of, bleed into Yancy’s role.

We can see based on the choices he makes during heist approximately where his own opinion of himself really lies. He’s aware that he’s hurt the people closest to him, evident with giving Yancy the trait of having murdered his parents. He’s aware that Yancy doing so was a wrong thing, evident by him existing in part of the prison system at all (and that also subtly ties back to a remark made by Damien in his animation in which he refers to acting under, uh, the actor, in this universe as akin to being held prisoner). His refusal of parole is akin to his own believed lack of genuine redemption for his actions. I mean, he’s in a prison that is explicitly stated to having focus on rehabilitation over punishment, and Yancy is actively avoiding applying for parole. He obviously does not believe rehabilitation is possible at this point in time, and that’s why it’s so incredibly significant that he does finally apply during his route in ISWM, especially considering what all happens in the primary plot of Space.

Yancy, in his little clip during ISWM is shown making amends to his role. He’s cleaning up his act, and for reasons outside of personal gain. He’s taking steps to stop causing other people suffering, no matter how habitual that suffering has become. Hell, he’s been stab free since he last saw us, which depending on what time we warped back into his universe in could be three years or ten days, but it’s still a significant amount of time that he expresses his own pride in commitment to, which shows that he’s both capable of and willing to change his actions for the better. He’s still creating while he’s improving his choices as well, which show that he’s starting to better define the lines between who he was and who he wants to be, the parts of himself he enjoys and the parts he wants to change for the better. Most notably, he applies for parole. This character, who previously believed himself completely irredeemable, someone who by definition could not be rehabilitated, has made the choice to apply for parole. Not only does he now want to atone for his mistakes, he believes he can and has actively started to, and this is all incredibly symbolic of the Actor finally changing his ways.

The Actor up to this point has been a very one dimensional character; he’s a narcissistic asshole with a massive ego who hurts those around him. That’s it, that’s his whole role. But we see in this project, that starts to chip away bit by bit, because again, the Engineer is another character that it is really easy for the Actor to empathize with. He’s the main guy in charge of a closed system, he’s got all his friends with him and all of them look up to him to some extent, he’s kept the camaraderie with the same friends and the animosity with the same not-quite-friends-anymore, and out of nowhere shit hits the fan and he’s gotta fix it but is completely unable to. Actually, if you pay close enough attention to the Mark Lives!Wake The Crew route in part one, the script up until the snapshot parallels almost exactly the plot of episode one of Who Killed Markiplier, just viewed through the lens of interstellar catastrophe instead of the lens of a poker night gone wrong, and then the snapshot is just the Viewers perspective from trapped inside the mirror at the end of part four of WKM, so it’s safe to say this role comes really easy to Actor Mark here.

So, just like with Yancy, it serves us well to pay attention to his choices as the head engineer, and how the different hims interact with each other and those around them. We get to talk to different versions of the Engineer at different stages of personal development, some in complete denial of any wrongdoings and others wholly mourning the loss of everything at their own hands, and eventually, come the one and only ending to this project, the Actor owns up to his mistakes, apologizes more than once, and takes action, or rather inaction, to make sure the cycle of pain doesn’t continue. This character who has unwillingly shoehorned him self into the role of the asshole bad guy, who up to this point seemed to be making no steps to change this, suddenly breaks down in front of us and genuinely apologizes. He’s no longer expecting automatic redemption in the eyes of the audience just by simply playing the hero, he’s working for it.

See, it’s really, really hard to get a read on who the Actor genuinely was as a person, as we’ve really only seen him operate as The Actor while under the influence of the Entity. Given that the Entity’s primary function is to manipulate the people around it by planting ideas in their heads that cause them to act in the Entity’s interests, while also convincing the person that they’re manipulating that the ideas are their own and are for their own benefit, you can see how it is hard to grasp what really lies underneath all that smoke. The only real foundations we have for the Actor are “heartbroken idiot who believed the ends justified the means”, which admittedly isn’t a whole lot to work with in terms of personality, but it does set him up perfectly for a redemption arc.

So, Yancy has applied for parole. Awesome, we’re seeing character development for one of the main ego idiots tumblr has been drooling over since his inception in Heist. Yeah there’s a lot of parallels between the two’s roles in heist and space, but how can you be sure that’s what they meant by it all?

It becomes more clear at the end of part two how his time spent in the role of Yancy has shifted his line of reasoning. As the actor, it was impossible for him to be in the wrong, because in his mind if you make mistakes that makes you the bad guy, and it is an impossibility for himself to be the bad guy here so therefore it is an impossibility for him to have done anything wrong. Him having made mistakes is completely in-congruent with his own self concept, so he rejects anything that may have implied such. However, he knows something wrong has happened, and as his internalized role as the Hero that makes it his job to go and fix it. So, he gets to work trying to make it better, but because of this logical fallacy he is looking in all the wrong places, and continuing to hurt those around him and make the problem worse. It is only after playing Yancy, a character who was the irredeemable bad guy who later made choices to redeem himself, a character that it is easy for the actor to empathize with, that he was able to see where his logic was flawed and where the actual error lay.

The speech given as the Engineer really serves to drive home this idea of genuine understanding at his wrongdoings, even outside of ISWM, so let’s dissect it a bit.

Starting with the line that I think broke all of our hearts here, “I, Captain I’m tired. I don’t know the last time I’ve slept was. I don’t know if I’ve slept at all. Have you?” Immediately after being faced with an identity shattering truth, we have the Engineer reciting almost a direct parallel to Celine’s speech in DAMIEN, spoken after she had worked for eons to keep the person she cared for most safe, who had also just faced an identity shattering truth, a line which was used to signify Celine’s own acceptance of what happened and willingness to move on from the grief, and which was accompanied by the same track of music that has followed the evolution and growth of the entire primary cast post the events of WKM, a track of music Mark one claimed he would never use again following the end of DAMIEN but has dug back up due to its significance to the story.

Not only that, he turns the script on us. He doesn’t know the last time he’s slept, if he’s slept at all, because he knows he’s spent lifetimes working to undo and fix this mess, but he is also now aware that we have been doing the same thing, working just as hard across multiple different lives trying to fix the mess that he was continuing to create around us. He recognizes that his actions have had an impact on us, and he apologizes for it.

“I’m really sorry. I thought the only way to stop this was to stop you, stop all this from happening in the first place, but it was me”. He’s allowing this information to sink into his head, because before this point he knew the two main people in charge here were him and us, and according to his previous logic it was impossible for him to do anything wrong, and that just left us to be the bad guys here. However, he’s no longer shying away from the reality that he is flawed, despite how much pain it brings him, because after having spent so much time focused on trying to resolve all the suffering of the people around him, which has taken long enough for that pain to become a solidified and undeniable fact to him, finally having a place to rest the blame that objectively makes sense is enough to override whatever self defense mechanisms might exist to protect his ego.

It also follows that this is applicable to the timeline outside of ISWM, as we can see the Warp Core with us in the Upside Down just before the universe reboot in part one, which works to imply that the Actor was using this project as a sort of medium to fix his reality. The only other times we’ve been pulled into the Upside Down outside of WKM was done by Dark, and it was done against the original plot of the story and to meet a personal agenda. It’s safe to say that if the Actor is bringing us there, it is in tune with his goals for that project and for himself, and since he wanted to leave us there he genuinely did not want us to be able to have an effect on his stories anymore, implying he believed our effect on his stories in the past is what caused all of that suffering in the first place.

Instead of trying to hide from his actions when faced with them, he meets them head on and apologizes for the mistakes made across multiple lives. “All those mistakes, all those lifetimes, all those people”, he’s no longer talking about just ISWM here, he’s talking about way back in WKM, and every project that followed. He’s put so much effort into fixing the mess he’s found himself in, and unknowingly until now been making everything worse. It’s here we see him actually come to terms with the significance of what all he’s done.

Which takes us to the final tear jerker, “I guess I lost hope. But you didn’t, you never did”. He recognizes that he has caused strife. He recognizes that he has made terrible choices, that have cost the people around them their lives. And he recognizes that we have been working just as long as him to fix this mess, and that at no point in our journey to this point in the timeline did we ever fully give up on the idea that things could improve. That he could improve. He had lodged himself into this idea that he was a static good character, and now he realizes that’s not exactly the case. And before he could fully settle into the alternate mindset of static bad, he realizes that we could see that he wasn’t a perfect character, and despite that we still followed him into the fray every time, still chose to believe in him even when he couldn’t believe in himself. He doesn’t see himself as wholly good, but we haven’t given up on him so we must not see him as a wholly bad either, which is the first open door he’s had towards allowing a grey and dynamic morality.

Now, that’s a lot of character development to come across in ten lines, after having been so one dimensional for over half a decade. And it’s a wonderful thing! I applaud this fictional character for taking that final step towards growth. The point I am trying to make here, is that the Actor needed to see that this level of change was possible before he was willing to attempt it for himself. The time in his roles with characters who are unsavory on the surface level, like Yancy, characters he can easily empathize with, were the essential first step towards growth. The Actor has been put through an eternity in a hell of his own creation, and he’s spent lifetimes believing the only two states of being are universally good and universally bad, and that mindset has let him continue to hurt the people he cares for. He was able to see a little of himself in the personality of Yancy, and watched him still start to get his happy ending despite how much shit he’s done wrong, and saw that that only came when he accepted that he’s imperfect and still strove to be better than he was yesterday, and because of that the Actor was able to rationalize in his head that maybe the same would be possible for him, and we see that come through in his apology speech as the engineer.

We still don’t really have a solid read on the Actor as a definite character, which is why it’s so important to pay attention to the roles he casts himself in for these projects. It’s a means for us to see what lies underneath all the smoke left behind by the Entity, and given the events of these past two projects I’d be willing to bet money that the end of ISWM was just the beginning of the shift from the Actor having a subplot to the Actor’s development being the primary plot, one of which I am more than excited to watch unfold. Nobody is completely irredeemable if they don’t want to be, and I cannot wait to see what comes next now that the Actor has begun to believe it.

#markiplier #iswm #in space with markiplier #iswm spoilers #iswm theory #iswm analysis #I started writing this at 2 am and now the sun is coming up #yancy #iswm yancy

63 notes · View notes

tiffanylamps · 1 year

Note

campy vampy bite bite 👀👀👀👀 (you know I love vampires and I have to ask for this one)

hehehehe, I'm so glad you asked!!!! I actually love this wip so much, it's my latest baby and I'm super excited about it. I think you will like what I've got planned 👀

From this tag game

Okay, so, I won't go into too much detail about who's who, but I will give some details regarding the world. The concept kind of surrounds the question: what if vampires have always existed and what would that look like in a modern-day society that is dictated by bureaucracy?

We have vampires and vampire hunters. There are also normal police officers, and different departments within the government that are put in place to basically... kill... vampires off. There are "normal" vampires, vampires that have been "turned" in the "wrong way"*, and there's even an underground drug network (including clubs where humans go to get their freak on with vampires). We also can't forget the corruption and of course, the murder mystery storyline. *I have planned out multiple ways for a human to be turned into a vampire

It's a pretty big story that I don't even have a full first chapter for lol. But I'm pretty excited to see where it'll go. It's a little bit of Romeo & Juliet meets Pride and Prejudice meets Beyond Evil meets vampiric lore. From my limited research, it would seem that Korea doesn't have its own vampire lore, so they tend to take inspiration from Western and Chinese cultures. I am also going to be doing this, as I think it'll be super fun to take inspiration from multiple cultures (and considering Joo Won canonically spent time in England, it would make sense to throw in a mix of European lore in there) It's rated E cause of violence, lots of blood, and... of course, sexual content 🤷‍♀️

At the moment, it's mainly just vibes, but here's a snippet from the opening scene.

The orchestra is bastardising Doga’s Gramophone. The main cause and culprit of this crime is the pianist, who’s torturing his keys a beat out of time, causing the whole piece to slug and be weighed down by his lack of urgency in tempo and finesse. Although, that might be the bourbon talking. Han Joo Won has been standing on the sidelines, listening to the god-awful mockery of classical music for what might be considered a rude amount of time. The ballroom - if one could call it that - did not possess the acoustics for such a piece, resulting in the already unflattering debacle sounding tinny and out of tune.

Under the finery of his designer suit jacket, Joo Won readjusts his perfectly tailored, perfectly pressed, perfectly starched, perfectly perfect embroidered waistcoat. He straightens his back with a slight ache in his lower spine, the heels of his Italian leather dress shoes are doing nothing for him other than causing his thighs to ache and his toes to throb. He’s been standing for far too long for such an event, which was a strategic decision he made almost forty minutes ago. He’s cleverly hidden from view behind a pompous flower arrangement; out of sight and hopefully away from his father’s ever-watching, ever-critical, ever-loathing gaze.

In this quiet corner by himself, with the bar still in sight, he can keep an eye on the table where his father currently resides. Including the exit, the musicians, and the majority of guests. A rather smart move on his behalf - if he did say so himself - as anyone could slip past security in this private event. Anyone could harm them.

There was another reason for his self-imposed isolation: he did not want to spend another second sharing a table with some of the most unintelligent and uninteresting people he’s ever been forced to be acquainted with. Han Joo Won is a man nearing his thirties and has met every kind of person there is to know in the circles he was born into. The list is predictable and finite, tedious and banal, ostentatious and pretentious, and Joo Won knows how to handle each and every one of them. He’s been trained his whole life for evenings such as this. -

I hope you like the detail of the embroidered waistcoat; I think I added that after one of our chats regarding Joo Won in pretty clothes 😊 Thank you for sending me this ask!! I really hope to make some progress with this fic because I think it's super fun and it would be great to share it with people

#tag game #wip #ask answered #thank you <3 #beyond evil

12 notes · View notes

kurjakani · 2 years

Note

What would be the top 3 things you loved in cyberpunk77?? ❤ Love your sweet oc for it!!

Ahwww THANK U i absolutely fell in love w the lore so I'll defi be working more within the world !!! >:')

1. Characters & character relationships

Genuinely fun stories for characters, their growth, how you take part in their growth and grow from it yourself (though that part is a bit lacking, but I rp w characters a lot anyways :'))!!! Some of them ended up a bit weird, but in a way fitting? Eg. Mr Goro in the Arasaka ending seems so unattached after what you have gone through with him (personally I managed to build good repor w him he was SO SWEET) (he sent me the boomer selfie i love him sm) but it... makes sense for multiple reasons..... !!!!

One thing that did rly make a lot of the interactions stand out was the sit down/lean interactions; whenever V would be prompted to sit down/lean on smth, you get that rly close up n personal pov of the conversation. I don't play a LOT of aaa games, but as far as I've seen it's pretty unique? Comparing to...

Fallout 4's staring off to the distance conversation prompts

Obsidians (fallout nv & outer worlds) "we are keeping eye contact but its rather stiff and extremely centered and you have no control of the view".. thibk this is the most common one?i recall it being in vtmb, skyrim & smth uhhh.... i had one other in mind cabt remember sorry

Compared to;

Cpunk 2077s more pre-designed major shots. You can move your field of view, the characters can get extremely close 2 u depending on the scene etc. I would catch myself rping just, where V would look 2 be real lol. Ofc this was a very minor part, of convos- a lot of them r done from further away, but i think its a rly neat addition to the interactions that made them a lot more intimate& memorable!!! Panam putting her legs on Vs, Royce pointing a gun at u, etc. I think a lot of people would prolly critique the mechanic of locking a player into these convos but I rly don't mind it...

2. Side mission stuff..

A lot of the like.... "go here do this go there do that" issue of side missions can be prettyyyy easily fixed for me by giving sm interesting storyline etc 2 work w and yeah just.... yk.... delamane cabs.... taking over clouds... peter pan braindance stuff... a lot of these missions had like somw small variation 2 keep them exiting, but also just, a bunch of fun stories and ywah :') u can probably guess by now that I like story based games LISTEN it is my weakness yeah

There were some rly fun writers working on cpunk!!! I have some issue w how streamlined Vs personality was, and how a lot of their dialogue came down 2 quips and funnyman stuff, but I think in a way that fits what I've gathered 2 be the feel of the original tabletop game??? Like its fun... it's guggi.

In a way there were points where like, a part of my brain can a lil bit say that some of the stories weren't explored as throughoutly as they could have been but.... exploring them urself is literally half the fun. Which is why it's kinda devastating that the fanbase isn't as big as smth like fallout 4 etc!!!! There was like hours of lore video content & theories for that- smth that could easily be done for cpunk, but i think the early relase that soured ppl 2 cpunk and i think the cost of the game & the cost of the console/pc that youd need 2 play limits the playerbase a lot... so there hasn't been chance for a proper culture like that to flourish, though there is a LOT of incredible fan creations !!!

3. The maelstroms

Listen I'm just obsessed they're so interesting 2 me. The addction to bodymodification, the occult & the crime, their mental states, their health, their LOOK bvs its BEAUTIFUL, their strange lingering between organized and loose and weird..... god I love the maelstroms sm i wanna study them in a little terrarium

Sorry this got qquiiiite rambly but!!! 😭😭😭 i dont have a lot of ppl 2 talk qbt this to so im v exited 2 just go off.... i have a lot of critique of the game but in a loving way, in the same way that I would critisize new vegas or vtbmb.... theres some clumsiness and weirdness, and thats exactly what i love abt it- im kinda aversed to sleek, completely smooth games.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #kanimomence #ask #anon

1 note · View note

oedein · 3 years

Text

DEAL WITH IT.

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader.

warnings: SMUT. sub reader. unprotected sex, overstim, light degradation, pet names.

word count: 3.9k

A/N: lol sorry for making bucky so mean ;(

Standing in the bedroom of your shared bedroom with Bucky, the two of you were trying to find outfits for tonight.

Tony had invited all of the avengers to party to celebrate your latest mission with the squad ending flawlessly. As part of the team, you were going. Bucky was quite averse to the idea of staying out for the night at first, but after a few hours of you practically begging him, he finally caved. — It's not that Bucky wouldn't have gone at all; he would've most likely just tucked himself away in a corner during the whole night and minded his own very boring business. If it wasn't for you accompanying him, helping him loosen up and actually enjoy himself.

After spending a fair amount of time getting ready both physically and mentally, you arrived at the party without any further hindrance.

Bucky kept close to you, his shoulder bumping into yours every time you stopped to greet someone. An hour of just strolling around endlessly made you jittery, feet bouncing off the floor every time you stopped walking. The sound of your suits rubbing up against each other built up a mild frustration within you, making you grit your teeth. You decided to link your arms together as a result instead of walking around like you were gonna merge. The two of you were usually shy about showing affection in public, especially around the other Avengers, but something about tonight tempted you into being more physical with him. You ended up catching up with a friend for quite some time as you were on the way to a bar, making Bucky rather restless. Excusing yourself, you nudged into his side and turned to whisper in his ear. "Hey, 'might want to go there alone for now. I'll be there in a bit." Bucky nodded and pulled his arm away from yours, starting to walk away from you. You watched as he went to sit down on a stool in a far corner, ordering his drink in peace. Your eyes kept flickering over to Bucky as your friend spoke, silently watching as he brushed his hair out of his face and cracked his knuckles. The way he tilted his head back and sighed in frustration as his bangs fell into his face again made you chuckle quietly. You followed every minute movement he did, biting your lip. When he scratched his beard, squinted when someone was too loud, or the way he would look over at you, eyes scanning you up and down made you lose your sense of surrounding, only fixating on him. The friend from earlier was still talking but caught on to you zoning out pretty quickly. Not wanting to bother you further or waste time, they excused themselves and nodded towards your boyfriend, "Go catch up with him; we'll talk more later!" You would apologise countless times for being so out of it before your attention turned back to Bucky, your gazes connecting. "Buck, buck, buck!" You called out playfully, humming as you walked up to him. He turned the stool around as he heard your voice, giving you a slight nod in acknowledgement. You beamed up at him, taking the opportunity to move closer, nestling between his spread legs and leaning your back up against him.

Bucky leaned forward to rest his chin on your shoulder instead of just sitting straight, giving you a soft nuzzle. As the bartender approached, you quickly added, 'I'll have whatever he's having.' craning your neck to the side and giving Bucky a wink. You could feel his chest rumble as a chuckle built up, the sweet sound escaping from his lips and lingering around you. You awkwardly wrapped an arm around him and turned, lips hovering over each other for a few seconds before they connected. A quick yet deep kiss. You hummed in discontent once he pulled away from you, placing a lasting kiss on your cheek instead. Bucky glanced at you, watching as you nuzzled your cheek into his chin and kept your arm around his shoulder before you leaned back into him. "You look so good in that suit, Buck. Giving me so many bad thoughts..." you purred into his ear, watching as he suddenly turned in his seat. "And it's so hard to have all these thoughts with so many people around. I can't do anything about it." A string of tsks left you, and you shook your head playfully, turning to look for a drop of shock on his face. To your surprise, he was staring straight ahead, gaze almost burning holes into the wall. You couldn't make out any emotions on his features, only noticing his visibly clenched jaw. A pang of satisfaction ran through you — the plan you wanted to set into motion earlier was seemingly starting to work. Bucky's attention returned to you, and he moved his hands to your waist, pushing you so that you would turn to face him. His eyes fixed on you as he leaned in closer, your noses almost touching.

"No." A single word left his lips, taunting you. The confidence from mere seconds ago crawled back inside, being replaced by a newfound annoyance of your boyfriend. You looked directly at him, letting out a huff in response. A smirk crept up over your features, and you placed an arm on his waist, "Aw, come on," you emphasised the last word, dragging it out as you nudged him with your shoulder, "you know you want it." You brought your hand up, dragging it against his crotch before it slinked under his chin, tilting his head down. Moving in for a kiss as he jerked back from the contact, you gave his bottom lip a tug before you pulled away. You heard a quiet 'fuck you.' escape his lips, making you giggle in return. You made sure to finish up your drinks before you got up, deciding to walk outside to chill off. The cold air bit at your reddened cheeks, making you shiver and press further into Bucky as you walked. Your hands curled up into fists, shaking from the chill winds dancing around you before Bucky eveloped them in his. The silent walk fell short as you stopped, turning to stand in front of him. You wriggled your hands free from his grip and placed them on his tie, playfully tugging on it. You reached down to his pants, fingers resting on his belt before you dragged your nails against the leather. You felt his muscles flex underneath his shirt, reacting every time your fingers would brush up against his abdomen. Bucky remained silent, watching as you pushed up against him, grinding your crotch against his, desperate for any reaction. Your eyes met, staring down each other, awaiting your next moves. Your shared warmth was soon gone, with Bucky almost peeling you off of him, moving his hand under your chin and tilting it up.

He ran his metal arm down your body until he stopped at your crotch, copying your actions. Before you could react, he pulled away, shaking his head at you dismissively. The trip home was unbearably quiet, Bucky shutting down any advances you made, resorting to a painful silent treatment. Once you got to your apartment, Bucky ushered you inside and closed the door with an unexpected intensity that made you jump in surprise. Discarding your outerwear, the two of you began walking inside before you were stopped in your track, almost falling over as a result. Bucky was close behind you as his hand found its way to your pants, hooking a finger around your belt and pulling your back towards him. You yelped in surprise, stumbling back a few steps before you hit Bucky's chest with a soft thump. A sigh escaped him before he spoke, voice low and gruff. "I don't appreciate that type of behaviour. Especially not in front of others." His free hand found its way up to your face, fingers wrapping around your jaw firmly, turning you to face him. "Whatever you were trying to gain back there is not going to happen." He noticed a change in your posture, the way you almost cringed into yourself as you listened to his harsh words. As soon as you were about to speak up, Bucky was cutting you off in an instant. "Hm? D'you really think you deserve any of those things?" His words were laced in disappointment, watching as you desperately racked your brain to try and come up with a confident reply. "Aw, poor boy... not a single word, huh?" Bucky brought his knee up between your legs and pushed them apart, the fingers around your belt pulling you further into him. He grinded up against your backside, listening to your mewls. "Where did all that confidence from earlier go?" He huffed out a chuckle, hot breath fanning against your cheek. A satisfied smirk washed over his features as you shuddered in response. "Be good for once and sit down." He mumbled, giving you a slight push towards the living room sofa. You gasped at the sudden movement, stumbling forward and catching yourself on the armrest before you sat down, anticipating Bucky's next move. He followed close behind, eyes never leaving your frame. The growing silence broke as Bucky reached out with two fingers in front of your face. He was towering over you, fully taking advantage of the angle he was at. "Open your mouth." You obliged eagerly, faster than he could finish the sentence. Leaning forward, you let your tongue lay flat against your lower lip and tilted your head back. You looked up at him proudly, expecting to hear praises; instead, you were met by his harsh silence again. Bucky watched as you wrapped your lips around his digits, fluttering your eyelashes at him as your gazes met. You could sense how impatient he was getting, so you started sucking on his fingers, coating them in your saliva. The muffled moans you let out against Bucky's fingers made his cock twitch in his pants, his bulge visibly growing. A string of saliva followed his fingers as he pulled away from your mouth, drool pooling up at the corners of your mouth threatening to spill out as well. Bucky slid down on the sofa next to you, pulling you up on his lap with his free hand once he settled. You rested your legs in between his before he began tugging down your pants and underwear. You followed suit, struggling before your shirt came off fully. Bucky discarded the clothes on the floor before he moved your legs on either side of him. Your member sprung free, plopping up against your belly, making you shudder as the cold air hit your sensitive tip. You looked down, watching as some of your precum ended up leaking on your stomach. Bucky brought his lubed up fingers in front of him and spat on them as well before he lifted your hips slightly. He moved his hand to spread your cheeks, letting a slick finger circle your entrance. He spent a good few minutes riling you up, the seemingly endless teasing never ending. "Hah- Mm.." You tried to moan out in disappointment as he stopped moving, but the noise got stuck in your throat, leaving you even more frustrated. "Please, Buck.. please touch me." You leaned your head against his shoulder, drawing out a lengthy whine into his ear. "I don't think you deserve any of that, though, do you?" He tutted at your words and stopped moving his hand, "Dumb brats don't get their way. They have to deal with what they get." You huffed out in protest as he spoke, "M'not a dumb brat!" You gave his chest a light slap, laying your hand flat against it. Bucky hummed in response and turned your head to face him, "You sure are acting like one right now." As he finished scolding you, he started moving his fingers again —this time pushing his slick digits into you, slowly stretching you out. The sudden contact made you jolt forward, and your hands gripped onto his shirt tightly, knuckles almost turning white. Bucky watched you slowly unravel in front of him as he started to increase his pace. You threw your head back, whining loudly every time his fingers brushed against your prostate, threatening your body to climax early. He moved his cold, metal arm from your waist and wrapped it around your cock, starting to pump it with a steady pace. The added pressure made you keel over, laying your head against his chest as he kept pumping his fingers into you. The second you tried to show that you were close, he would suddenly stop and pull his fingers out, watching as your frustration grew. Tears began forming in your eyes from the teasing, spilling over as you looked at him, making you feel pure defeat. Bucky smirked, pleased with the state he had put you in. He leaned forward, placing small kisses on your cheek until he reached your lips, capturing them in a deep, salty kiss. You kissed him back, sniffling softly as he pulled away from you. He bucked up against you and nodded to the free space on the sofa, motioning for you to lie down. Once you had switched positions, you watched as Bucky moved to get up. You frantically reached out for him, not expecting him to walk away from you like this. He looked down at you and tsked, lifting his index finger and shaking it at you. "Come on, you gotta be more patient than that." He sounded disappointed again, making you wince at your sudden reaction. You curled into the leather sofa, hands at either side of your face. "You can't seriously believe that I'm done with you right now. Not when you're behaving like that." His voice echoed through the room as he walked out to get something. You felt the sofa dip as he returned and nestled between your legs. The familiar sound of a belt jingling piqued your interest, making you look over. Bucky came back with a bottle of lube in his hand, ready to prep both of you. He undid his pants and let his cock spring free, looking over to see you staring at him through heavy lids. A low groan snapped you out of it, your eyes following his hands, watching as he stroked his cock and lubed it up. Cars driving outside the apartment illuminated the room through your windows, letting you see all of Bucky for a few seconds, taking in the sight in front of you greedily. The way he threw his head back and the way his hand would occasionally twitch as he pumped himself was intoxicating. Bucky pulled his hand away from his cock and reached out for your waist, pulling you up on his lap before he lined himself up with your entrance. He pushed himself in, getting all of his cock to fill you up, growling as you squirmed. His thrusts started out slow and steady, your moans spurring him on. He brought your legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as his thrusts turned harsher, almost feral. The room's silence was replaced by the sound of your erratic moans and skin slapping against skin. "Hands up over your head." Bucky suddenly huffed out, never ceasing his ruthless pounding. When you didn't respond, he decided to lean forward, bending your legs until he was close enough to your face. You gasped as his position switched, his cock pushing even deeper inside of you. His hand pinned yours above your head, holding onto your wrists tightly as he kept rutting into you. A loud whine escaped you as you tried glancing down at your neglected cock, wanting to relieve the pressure building up in your abdomen. Bucky noticed your shifting attention, tutting at you as he leaned back up, grabbing onto your hips. "Why don't you be a good whore and cum without touching yourself, hm?" It was more of an order than a question, and you bitterly agreed, trying to relax your arms as Bucky kept fucking you into the sofa like a toy. The assault on your prostate resumed, sending waves of pleasure through your body, cock twitching impatiently the closer you got. After the first time you came, you tried to sit up, expecting him to finish up as well. But you got pulled down into the cushions again, being stared down by an annoyed Bucky. He shook his head at you and kept thrusting. "Isn't this what you wanted?" He spoke through gritted teeth, trying to steady himself as much as he possibly could with you clenched around him. You nodded frantically and quickly moved your hands down, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, hoping he wouldn't complain. Luckily he didn't, being too preoccupied with fucking you senseless and milking you dry. Drilling into you like it was the only thing he knew how to do. His hips snapped into yours aggressively, cock burying itself deeper in your ass, prodding at your prostate without mercy. After what felt like an eternity of being relentlessly pounded into and being brought to climax several times, you suddenly broke. "Hah, too much..." You moaned out, back arching off the couch and pushing you into Bucky. "It hurts, pl-ease!" Bucky ignored your cries, his pace increasing any time you started whining. He watched your cock twitch as he found your sweet spot again, moaning as you clenched around his shaft. You felt the familiar pressure build up in your abdomen again, pushing yourself off the couch with your elbows as you came for the nth time. Your red, sensitive tip rubbed up against your stomach, making you hiss and whine. Bucky suddenly slowed down, watching for your reaction. He heard you breathe out in relief, beginning to tear up and moving your hands to cover your face. A low chuckle escaped him, and he started thrusting into you again, reaching out for your cock as well. He pressed his palm against your tip, wrapping his fingers around it and squeezing. You gasped, letting out a string of curse words and cries, the overstimulation completely taking over your body. "I can't do... it, please." You managed to choke out in between sobs and broken moans. Clenching around his cock, you looked at him through your blurred vision, tears rolling down your burning cheeks. Your hands flew down and grabbed onto Bucky, digging your nails into his forearm, begging him for mercy. Bucky grunted from the pain of your grip and started to pump your cock in retaliation, your sharp cries making him shiver. He began thrusting into you again, the mixture of pleasure and pain making you roll your eyes back, mouth hanging open. He dragged a finger over your stomach, coating his hand with your cum before he spread it on your member, revelling in the way your shaking body reacted to him. His free arm grabbed onto your waist, angling you on him before he began drilling into you again, prodding at your prostate again. Your eyes found his, watching as his face suddenly twisted. Bucky's grip on your cock never relaxed; instead, he started to pump your shaft faster as his thrusts became sloppy and erratic. Bucky looked down, watching your fucked out face, before he leaned over you, releasing into you with a loud groan. He snapped his hips up, pushing to stay deep inside of you. You felt his cock twitch, his release making you shiver and cry out in relief. It pushed you to release for the last time, hips snapping up into the air as pain wracked your body, cock painting your torso and covering you in cum. Bucky thrust into you one last time before he pulled out, trying to steady his breath before he wriggled his arm out of your grip and tucked his cock back into his pants. He watched as your body shook, not being able to calm down fully. His suit and shirt came off, and he kneeled down on the floor next to you, wiping both of you off carefully with his shirt. He let it fall to the floor, scooting over to you and placing his cold hand on your cheek, stroking away tears that rolled down your face. A pang of guilt surged through his body as you looked down at him, eyes puffy and wet. You turned and flashed him a sad smile, breathing heavily into your shoulder. His hand reached out behind your head, grabbing onto a blanket that he luckily had placed on the sofa before, bunching it up in his arms as he got up. Bucky returned to the couch and bent over you, helping you sit up. He wrapped his arms around you securely, making an attempt to prop you up against the backrest. You laid limp in his arms, still trying to catch your breath through quiet tears. You watched as he pulled out the blanket, spreading it out and wrapping it around your shaking body, hushing your cries. "You did so well, baby. I'm so proud of you." He whispered soothingly and rubbed your back,

"Good boy, taking it all so well." Watching as you reached out a hand shakily, he took it in his, rubbing his thumb over your skin. Your breathing began to even out, eyes following Bucky's as his arms went under your legs and around you, scooting you over into his lap. He hugged your body closely, moving his head to kiss away the tears staining your cheeks. His right hand made its way up to your face, cupping your cheek and tucking your head under his chin. A loud hiss left you as your inner thigh brushed up against your still sensitive member, causing you to twitch and tense up. "Still hurts..." A quiet whine left you as you mumbled against the fabric, arching your back awkwardly. "...I'm all messy." Bucky grimaced and gave your side a gentle squeeze in an attempt to shift your focus. "I know, I know. It's gonna be hurting for a while, but you need to try to relax." He sighed deeply and peered down at you, "I'm not leaving until you can get up on your own." You hummed in response, snuggling into his lap, trying to stop shaking. A sudden feeling of anxiety bubbled up as you felt Bucky move until you realised that he was just trying to lay down with you on top of him. Your legs moved around, trying to find a comfortable position before you finally settled, hands grabbing onto the blanket and bringing it up to your face. Bucky brought his hand up from your waist and placed it on the back of your head, fingers massaging your scalp. He watched closely as your eyelids fluttered shut, making him sigh in relief. "I love you," His voice was soft and loving, barely above a whisper. "Such a good and patient boy, huh? Always holding out for me." He was finally praising you, making your stomach bubble up with pride. You lifted up a finger silently in acknowledgement and wiggled it around, listening to Bucky's soft chuckles in response as your mind began to cloud, leading you into a well-deserved slumber, your body ceasing its trembling.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x male reader #bucky x reader #bucky x male reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes smut #marvel x male reader #marvel smut #male reader insert

541 notes · View notes

thebibliosphere · 3 years

Note

So I'm currently unemployed because I got fired for taking too much sick leave (it was legally sketchy blah blah blah but in the end I just can't work and take care of myself and investigate my mystery health problems at the same time). So I've been spending more time writing!

I really admire your writing and loved Hunger Pangs. I'm looking forward to the poly elements developing and I'm wondering if you have any advice for writing about poly. I've made one of my projects a snarky take on "write what you know" ... Apparently what I know is southern gothic meets Pacific northwest gothic, chronic illness pandemic surrealism, and falling back-asswards into threesomes.

I know this is a very open-ended question and I don't expect an answer, I'm just curious about it if you have the energy. As a writer, trying to write honestly / realistically about polyamory/enm, I'm curious if you have any thoughts on what's different about portraying monogamy or nonmonogamy in books, romance or erotica or otherwise.

I'm trying to read examples but it's hard to find examples that fit the niche I'm looking at. Excuse me if this question is nonsense, it's the cluster headaches.

I'm sorry to hear you've been dealing with all that and solidarity on the cluster headaches. But I'm glad you're finding an outlet through writing! And I hope you're happy with an open-ended ramble in response because oh boy, there's a lot I could talk about and I could probably do a better job of answering this sort of thing with more specific questions, but let's see where we end up.

There's definitely a big difference between writing polyamory/ENM (ethical non-monogamy) and what people often expect from monogamous love stories.

Just even from a purely sales and marketing standpoint, the moment you write anything polyamorous (or even just straight up LGBTQIA+ without the ENM) you're going to get considered closer to being erotica/obscene than hetero romances. It's an unfair bias, but it's one that exists in our society. But also the Amazon algorithm and their shitty, shitty human censors. Especially the ones that work the weekends. (Talking to you, Carlos 🖕.)

So not only do you start out hyper-aware that you're writing something that is highly stigmatized or fetishized (at least I'm hyper-aware) but that you are also writing for a niche market that is starving for positive content because the content that exists is either limited, not what they want, or is problematic in some fashion i.e. highly stigmatized or fetishy. And even then, the wants, desires, and expectations of the community you're writing for are complex and wildly varied and hard to fit into an easy formula.

When writing monogamous love stories, there is a set expectation that’s really hard to fuck up once you know it. X person meets Y. Attraction happens, followed by some sort of minor conflict/resolution. Other plot may happen. A greater catalyst involving personal growth for both parties (hopefully) happens. Follow the equation to its ultimate resolution and achieve Happily Ever After.

But writing ENM is... a lot more difficult, if only because of the pure scope of possibilities. You could try to follow the same equation and shove three (or more) people into it, but it rarely works well. Usually because if you’re doing it right, you won’t have enough room in a single character arc to allow for enough growth, and if ENM requires anything in abundance, it’s room to grow.

And this post is huge so I’m going to put the rest under a cut :)

There's also a common refrain in certain online polyam/ENM circles that triads and throuples are overrepresented in media and they may be right to some extent. Personally, I believe the issue isn't that triads and throuples are overrepresented, but that there is such minuscule positive rep of ethical non-monogamy in general, that the few tiny instances we have of triads in media make it seem like it's "everywhere" when in actuality, it's still quite rare and the media we do have often veers into Unicorn Hunter fetish porn. Which is its own problematic thing. And just to be clear, I’m not including this part to dissuade you from writing "falling back-asswards into threesomes." If anything, I need more of it and would hook it directly into my brain if I could. I'm just throwing it out there into the void in the hope that someone will take the thought and run with it, lol.

I’d love to see more polyfidelitous rep in fiction, just as much as I’d like to see more relationship anarchy too. More diversity in fiction is always good.

Another thing that differs in writing ENM romance vs conventional monogamy is the feeling like you need to justify yourself. There's a lot of pressure to be as healthy and non-problematic as possible because you are being held to a higher standard of criticism. Both from people from without the ENM communities, and from the people within. Granted, some people don't give a shit and just want to read some fantastic porn (valid) but there are those who will cheerfully read Fifty Shades of Bullshit and call it "spicy" and "romantic," then turn around and call the most tooth-rottingly-sweet-fluff about a queer platonic polycule heresy. That's just the way the world works.

(Pro-tip for author life in general: never read your own reviews; that way madness lies. I glimpsed one the other day that tagged Hunger Pangs as “ethical cheating” and just about had an aneurism.)

And while that feeling of needing to justify yourself comes from a valid place of being excluded from the table of socially accepted norms, it can also be to the detriment of both the story and the subject matter at hand. I've seen some authors bend so far over backward to avoid being problematic in their portrayal of ENM, they end up being problematic for entirely different reasons. Usually because they give such a skewed, rose-tinted perspective of how things work, it ends up coming off as well... a bit culty and obnoxious tbh.

“Look how enlightened we are, freed from the trappings of monogamy and jealousy! We’re all so honest and perfect and happy!”

Yeah, uhu, sure Jan. Except here’s the thing, not all jealousy is bad. How you act on it can be, but jealousy itself is an important tool in the junk drawer that is the range of human emotion. It can clue us in to when we’re feeling sad or neglected, which in turn means we should figure out why we’re feeling those things. Sometimes it’s because brains are just like that and anxiety is a thing. Other times it’s because our needs are actually being neglected and we are in an unhealthy situation we need to remedy. You gotta put the work in to figure it out. Which is the same as any style of relationship, whether it’s mono, polyam or whatever flavor of ENM you subscribe to* And sometimes you just gotta be messy, because that’s how humans are. Being afraid to show that mess makes it a dishonest portrayal, and it also robs you of some great cannon fodder for character development.

Which brings me in a roundabout way to my current pet peeve in how certain writers take monogamous ideals and apply them to ENM, sometimes without even realizing it. The “Find the Right Person and Settle Down” trope.

Often, in this case, ENM or polyamory is treated as a phase. Something you mature out of with age or until you meet “The One(tm).” This is, of course, an attempt to follow the mono style formula expected in most romances. And while it might appeal to many readers, it’s uh, actually quite insulting.

To give an example, I am currently seeing this a lot in the Witcher fandom.

Fanon Netflix!Jaskier is everyone's favorite ethical slut until he meets Geralt then woops, wouldn’t you know, he just needed to find The One(tm). Suddenly, all his other sexual and romantic exploits or attractions mean nothing to him. Let's watch as he throws away a core aspect of his personality in favor of a man.

Yeah... that sure showed those societal norms...

If I were being generous, I’d say it’s a poor attempt at showing New Relationship Euphoria and how wrapped up people can become in new relationships. But honestly, it’s monogamous bias eking its way in to validate how special and unique the relationship is. Because sometimes people really can’t think of any other way to show how important and valid a relationship is without defining it in terms of exclusivity. Which is a fundamental misunderstanding of how ENM works for a lot of people and invalidates a lot of loving, serious and long-term relationships.

This is not to say that some polyam/poly-leaning people can't be happy in monogamous relationships! I am! (I consider myself ambiamorous. I'm happy with either monogamy or polyamory, it really just depends on the relationship(s) I’m in.) But I also don't regard my relationship with a mono partner as "settling down" or "growing up." It's just a choice I made to be with a person I love, and it's a valid one. Just like choosing to never close yourself off to multiple relationships is valid. And I wish more people realized that, or rather, I wish the people writing these things knew that :P

Anyway, I think I’ve rambled enough. I hope this collection of incoherent thoughts actually makes some sense and might be useful.

----

*A good resource book that doesn't pull any punches in this regard is Polysecure by Jessica Fern. It's a wonderfully insightful read that explores the messier side of consensual non-monogamy, especially with how it can be affected by trauma or inter-relationship conflicts. But it also shows how to take better steps toward healthy, ethical non-monogamy (a far better job than More Than Two**) and conflict resolution, making it a valuable resource both for someone who is a part of this relationship style***, but also for writers on the outside looking in who might have a very simple or misguided idea of what conflict within polyam/ENM relationships might look like, vs traditional monogamous ones.

** The author of More Than Two has been accused of multiple accounts of abuse within the polyamorous community, with many of his coauthors having spoken out about the gaslighting and emotional and psychological damage they experienced while in a relationship with him. A lot of their stories are documented here: https://www.itrippedonthepolystair.com/ (warning: it is not light material and deals with issues of abuse, gaslighting, and a whole other plethora of Yikes.) While some people still find More Than Two helpful reading, there are now, thankfully, much, much better resources out there.

*** Some people consider polyam/ENM to be part of their identity or orientation, while others view it as a relationship style.It largely depends on the individual.

#long post #writing #ethical non-monogamy #relationship styles #relationship models in fiction #also that kindle link is an affiliate link #because fuck giving amazon free recs

496 notes · View notes

pennylanefics · 3 years

Text

Accidentally - Jacob Black

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for like a week. i wrote this in like an hour and a half lol, got the idea and ran with it. loved it up until the ending 🤷🏼‍♀️

warnings: descriptions/mentions of blood, injuries, stitches

•••

The fight with the newborns was finished. The vampires retreated after realizing Bella would soon become one, no lives were lost on your side, and everyone, besides Jacob, was unharmed. Though his accelerated healing pulled through after Carlisle reset his bones, and he was back to himself.

Bella, seeing this as a win for everyone, and wanting to celebrate her engagement with Edward, invited the wolf pack and their imprints over to the Cullens’ house for dinner. You found this to be odd for a couple reasons; vampires don’t eat, and the two groups usually aren’t ones to celebrate things together.

The pack eventually, reluctantly, agreed, and the date was set.

When you arrived with Jacob, the rest of the pack and their loved ones did as well. You join Emily and Kim to head straight for the kitchen, finding that Esme and Carlisle were cooking.

“We know that Paul can eat, so we made sure to make enough for everyone,” Esme smiles.

The three of you offer to help and she gives you each something you can do. You were given broccoli to cut up for a side dish of steamed broccoli, while Emily helped cook the chicken dish and Kim made a pasta salad.

The atmosphere is a little awkward at first. The vampires converse with each other, and the wolves stick to their pack. Eventually, Emmett apologizes to Paul for the misunderstanding on the tribe’s land, and things relax a bit.

Bella and Edward talk with Seth about their news; she looks so happy, and you could tell she really loved Edward. Though you knew she was playing with fire, being so close to people that could kill her instantly.

You were so deep in your thoughts that you weren’t paying attention and end up slicing your finger open. Feeling the piercing pain, you drop the knife, catching everyone’s attention.

“Ah shit,” you hiss, cradling your hand. Esme and Carlisle share a knowing look. Kim wraps your hand in a towel, but that makes it worse, as it spreads your scent around more. This keeps Jasper’s attention the most; he’s still not really good at controlling himself around human blood.

You didn’t know what happened, but one second you were standing next to Kim, and the next you were flung into the wall, crashing and falling onto a glass table. You can feel shards of glass in your arm, but the growling and hissing from the two supernatural groups in the room distracts you.

Emmett was standing in front of you, trying to keep Jasper from coming for you. Sam and Paul join in and lunge for the blonde vampire, Emmett pushing the group as far away from you as possible. Carlisle rushes over to you to assess your bleeding arm.

“Get him out of here, now!” He demands to the three. Jasper finally relaxes and walks out of the house, Alice, Edward, Bella, and Rosalie following. Carlisle helps you stand and Emily brings another towel to try and help with the blood.

“What the hell is going on?!” Jacob rushes in, Embry behind him.

“Jake, why don’t you go to the living room and calm down before-”

“No, Emily! I wanna know why the fuck my girlfriend is bleeding!”

“I’m going to take her to my office to stitch her up, she’ll be fine,” Carlisle tells him softly. Jacob tries to grab his shoulder and stop him in an angry manner, but the vampire is too fast for him and rushes up the stairs.

“Kim?!” He demands. She shakes her head, still in shock at how fast everything happened. Huffing, he follows you upstairs, but he gets lost trying to find Carlisle’s office. When he does, he sees you sitting on a small table.

“Get away from her,” he growls, his anger growing by the second. Carlisle keeps calm and faces him.

“I’m not a danger, Jacob. She’s in safe hands, I promise.”

“I don’t give a shit, get away now!”

“Jake,” you call out, your voice quiet and soothing. Upon hearing you, he calms down immediately, his eyes catching yours. “He’s okay.”

“You should be worried about Jasper. He’s the one that caused all of this.”

“What the hell did he do? Slam her into the wall for fun?!”

“Jacob, I’ll tell you once Carlisle finishes, just please.” He sighs and takes a seat in the chair next to the door, hanging his head in his hands stressfully.

He stays by the door the entire time, making sure no one comes in. He also watches Carlisle, but that’s not as big of a worry because he can see and sense how comfortable you are. Part of him hates that he acted out on the doctor, seeing as he just recently helped heal him.

“She’s all done. About ten stitches in her arm, and two in her finger. I’ll come over to your place when they need to be taken out,” he tells Jacob, discarding his gloves and washing his hands.

“Thank you, Carlisle,” you say. He smiles and pats your shoulder.

“Anytime. I’ll see you in about a week.” He walks out of the room, shutting the door. You reach your hand out for Jacob, and he finally trudges over to you.

As soon as he stands in front of you, to get a better look at the two bandages on your body, he breaks down crying. He stands between your legs and leans onto your shoulder, crying loudly. He holds onto you gently, being mindful of your injured arm.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles through tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you and you got hurt when I was here.”

“Hey, it’s okay, babe. Things happen.”

“It wouldn’t have happened if I were inside, protecting you.”

“Jacob,” you pull back to look him in the eyes. “Emmett saved me. I’m okay.”

“Emmett did this?” He begins to grow angry again. “I thought it was Jasper.”

“I cut my finger while chopping broccoli. Kim gave me a towel to try and contain it, but it made it worse. Jasper went to attack me, but Emmett pushed me away. I ended up slamming into the wall and falling onto a glass table.”

“Fucking vampires,” he whispers under his breath. You giggle and cradle his cheek.

“I’m okay, so let’s-”

“No, we’re not staying. We’re going home right now.” Deciding it was best not to argue with him, you nod. He helps you down from the table and guides you back downstairs. Carlisle and Esme were the only two in the living room, the vampires having gone to their respected rooms and the wolf pack and the others waiting outside.

“Thank you again, Carlisle. I’m sorry my blood ruined the party,” you chuckle. He laughs and pulls Esme into his side.

“It’s my job. And no worries. Wolves, humans, and vampires aren’t really meant to have parties like this. If it wasn’t you, it would’ve been something else.”

“Well, wish Bella and Edward the best for me, and apologize to Jasper.” They nod and wave goodbye as you and Jacob head outside. Before you could get into Jacob’s car, a voice stops you.

Emmett appears at the bottom of the stairs in seconds due to his speed. Jacob goes to lunge for him, but Paul and Embry hold him back.

“I just wanted to apologize for what happened. I didn’t mean to throw you into the wall, I just wanted to get you away from him. I kinda forgot you are human for a second,” he tells you.

“No hard feelings Em. Thanks for saving me.” You hug him tightly and he is careful with your arm, but hugs you back as well.

“No fucking thanks for throwing her into a glass table!” Jacob yells angrily. Emmett sighs and faces Jacob, crossing his arms cockily.

“Would you rather have had Jasper get to her, bite her, and turn her into one of us? Or would you rather her walk away alive with only a few stitches in her arm?” Emmett offers. Jacob sees his point right away and relaxes. He can’t read their minds like they can with him, but he can see Emmett is being sincere in his intentions.

“Thank you,” Jacob finally mutters, holding his hand out for Emmett. The buff vampire shakes his hand and backs away.

“I promise my intentions were good. I would obviously never want to hurt her, because I know what you wolves can do when someone hurts your imprint, but it was the best option.”

“I get it. And yeah. I may want to rip yours and Jasper’s heads off, but I’m glad she’s not one of you.” Emmett chuckles and pats your back one last time before heading back inside. Jacob helps you into his car as soon as he turns his back, and drives off within seconds.

“Did he say to change the dressing or anything?” Jacob asks as you two get ready for bed.

“He said I need to keep it on through the night, then I can take it off in the morning to clean it and redress it. He gave me some gauze to do so.”

You two finally crawl into Jacob’s bed, you laying on your left side, facing Jacob. He caresses your cheek then reaches for your injured left hand, which was resting by his face. His lips gently graze over your skin, his kisses ending just below the gauze wrapped around your index finger.

“We’re never going back over there,” he whispers. You giggle lightly and nod.

“What about Bella’s wedding? We’ll have to face them then?”

“We’ll go out of town that weekend. Sorry, but I don’t want you around Jasper anymore. Honestly I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself from attacking him anyway. No one gets away with intending to hurt a wolf’s imprint.”

“He still struggles with being around human blood, Jake. At least be a little understanding.” He stares at you in confusion.

“No, I won’t. Emmett said it himself. If he wasn’t there, Jasper would’ve killed you and...I…I wouldn’t kn-know what to do,” he stumbles over his words, feeling the tears come again. “I can’t lose you, baby.”

“You won’t lose me, Jacob. I won’t go around them anymore, and we’ll go out of town for Bella’s wedding.”

“Good. She’ll be upset with me, but she’s not my problem anymore. You’re my entire world, and I want you to be safe. Being safe beats celebrating a wedding that is going to end up with her dead anyway.”

“If that’s what she wants, then let her. She’s their problem now, like you said.”

“Mhm. Anyway, enough about that. Get some sleep, okay?

“Alright. I love you too, Jake.”

“I’ll forever love you. Goodnight, my love.”

#jacob black #jacob black imagines #jacob black imagine #jacob black x reader #twilight #twilight wolf pack #the twilight saga #twilight new moon #twilight eclipse #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

389 notes · View notes

fandom-puff · 3 years

Text

Guard

Pairing: Sandor Clegane x reader

Requested by: anon ‘Can I get literally anything with Sandor Clegane? Maybe reader is a highborn child of a lord, and the Hound is hired as their bodyguard. And reader is very flustered around Sandor and can’t help but try to seduce them nervously? And Sandor is secretly digging it but tries to remain stoic and scary. Did that make any sense? I hope that was coherent’

Note: I... got a bit carried away here lol, sorry it took a while to write. also the reader in this is Robert Baratheon’s eldest daughter :)

Warnings: drunk shenanigans, references to sex

Gif creds to owner

“Oh father, honestly. What need have I for a guard?” You sighed, setting your book aside as Robert Baratheon sat across from you. “I can barely leave my chambers without a swarm of mother’s little birds to watch my every move,”

“What good are your ladies maids against would be assassins, Hm?” Robert said gently, brushing your dark hair away from your face. “All they can do is tell your mother you’ve had your throat slit,” you didn’t grimace at his bluntness.

“Surely Joffrey would be the prime target?” You insisted. “He’s heir to the throne seeing as he’s the eldest son. And he’s an ass as well,”

Robert laughed, knowing of your disdain for your younger brother. “I know, my girl, I know. Still, I want you protected, especially when we set off for the north. It took a while to convince your mother but... well, she can’t deny her own bannermen will be the best to serve the job,”

“Lannister bannermen?” You asked, taking your father’s arm as he began to walk you to dinner.

“Aye. Don’t worry, I won’t let the Mountain anywhere near you,” he said, patting your hand gently. “But his brother, Sandor, is to be your guard,”

***

The journey north was... arduous, to put it diplomatically. Your mother was overbearing, Joffrey grew bored, Myrcella was travel-sick from the bumpy road and Tommen was dearly missing Ser Pounce.

When the parade of servants and guards and carriages and luggage stopped for dinner before sun down, you sighed, happy to stretch your legs and get away from the claustrophobic Queen’s litter.

After dinner, you followed your father and uncles to their own carriage, insisting you couldn’t bare another moment of your siblings bickering and your mother trying to get you to sew. Your father allowed it and you smiled as he helped you into the carriage, sitting next to him and across from your uncles. Tyrion smiled at you, asking about the book you were reading. You soon found yourself relaxing, under no pressure from Cersei, being treated as an intellectual equal. You even drank some strong wine (under Robert’s supervision of course) and soon nodded off to sleep against your father’s shoulder the way you used to when you were a girl...

“YN, wake up,” you jolted awake, blinking away your sleepiness.

“Are we at Winterfell?” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes. Robert smiled fondly.

“Almost, my dear. Your mother is going spare, says you’re to go to her litter right this instant and put your best gown on,” he grinned, nudging you as you rolled your eyes. “Clegane will escort you, he’s outside,” you sighed and nodded, slipping out of the carriage, almost colliding head on with the Hound.

“Princess,” he said, looking down at you and bowing slightly. “I’m to take to you your mother,”

You smiled sweetly up and him, nodding. “Thank you, Ser Clegane,”

“I’m no Ser,” he said firmly.

“Then what should I call you?” You asked, looking up at him expectantly.

“Well... your brother used to just call me Hound, or Dog, princess,” he said, frowning.

You stared up at him, locking eyes with him, taking in his scarred face and stoic expression. “I am not an ignorant arse like my brother. I’m sure your first name shall suffice, Sandor,” you said firmly and he nodded, helping you navigate the uneven ground to your mother’s carriage

***

Your stay at Winterfell was enjoyable, yet suffocating at times. You grew used to the cold rather quickly, donning furs the way the Starks did. You got on well with Sansa, let Arya show you how fast she could run, held Rickon on your hip when he raised his arms up, let Bran quiz you on the different creatures Old Nan had told him about, spoke politics with Robb. You even beckoned the bastard, Jon Snow over after Robb told you they were as close as real brothers. You admired how warm Lady Stark was with her children, and how Lord Stark was firm but fair with them, disciplining them when need be.

Of course, wherever you went, you had a shadow. Sandor Clegane followed your every move, standing just close enough so he could see and hear you, but far away enough to not stifle you. It was odd at first, but you soon got used to it, smiling softly when you found him waiting outside of your allocated chamber each morning. You couldn’t help but be curious about him. Many recoiled in fright when they saw his disfigured face, but you couldn’t care less. It intrigued you. He was... handsome. In a rugged, scary, gigantic way. At night you couldn’t help but let your mind wander... thinking about his strong arms and great height and low, rumbling voice... you often woke in a sweat, despite the frigid wind of the North, your entire body alight with desire.

It was wrong, you knew it was. He was your guard. Father would have his head if anything untoward happened, and your mother would surely condemn you to a life as a Septa. But still... there was something about his powerful presence that stoked the fire within you.

***

There was a firm thud at your door. “Princess, I’m here to take you to the feast,” Sandor’s gruff voice sounded.

“A moment, I’m just... is there a ladies’ maid nearby?” You called

“No, Princess. They are down at the feast with your mother and sister... should I fetch one? Or perhaps the Septa or the Maester, if it’s women’s troubles that are ailing you?”

You rolled your eyes and opened the door. “There’s no need for that, Sandor,” you said firmly. “I’m simply having difficulty trying to do up the clasp on my necklace. Would you...?” You opened your door a little wider, inviting him inside. Sandor hesitated for a moment before following you, his armour rattling with every step. He admired your figure as you walked; you had decided to wear the colours of your house for the Feast. A black gown, embroidered with twisting golden antlers. You stood in front of the mirror, holding out the ends of your pendant. Sandor’s hands brushed against yours as he took the ends, and you couldn’t help but shiver, goosebumps spreading over the swell of your breasts as you swept your hair aside. Sandor gulped, clasping the fiddly chain against the column of your neck, his knuckles caressing gently.

“There,” he said, clearing his throat as he felt your heated skin. “Come on... before your mother castrates me for making you late,”

You smiled gently, walking slightly ahead of him toward the noisy Hall. As you approached the head table, Ned and Catelyn stood, but you quickly gestured for them to sit. “Please, sit. This is your home,” you said gently, allowing Sandor to pull a chair out for you next to your mother.

“Thank you Clegane,” she said coldly, eyes narrowed. “You may leave us now,”

You turned to him and smiled shyly. “Stay,” you said softly.

“YN,” your mother said warningly.

“Sandor, go and enjoy the feast. Have some food and some wine, I’m sure Uncle Jaime and Uncle Tyrion can spare you some. Go. Make Merry,” you said gently and he nodded, bowing slightly.

“Of course, Princess, your majesty,” he said, before stalking away.

You ignored your mother’s disapproving look and engaged in pleasant conversation with Lady Catelyn, mainly about when you were to be wed, but your mother cut across.

“I believe Robert intended to betroth her to your eldest son, but we must consider Joffrey’s future first. He is after all to be king and needs to have heirs,”

“Of course,” Catelyn smiled. “I’m sure a suitor will come shortly,”

You nodded, although your attention was no longer on the conversation; your eyes had drifted to Sandor. For once he was smiling, looking at ease as your uncles poured him more wine, your father laughing jovially with a woman on his lap. “I’m going to see Uncle Jaime,” you said to your mother, who sighed but let you go.

“Ah, YN,” Tyrion smiled as jaime poured you a goblet of wine. “I see you’ve managed to escape your mother’s side,”

“Don’t,” you said, taking the wine and drinking it quickly, sitting yourself next to Sandor. Robert sent the woman on his lap go, frowning at you.

“Careful now, YN, that wine’s stronger than you’re used to,” he warned, but you reached over to clink your goblet with his. Sandor gulped, seeing the curve of your back as you swayed slightly.

“Oh, nonsense, father. I am your daughter after all... and my uncle is the drunkest man in the seven kingdoms. It’d be rather shameful if I couldn’t manage a cup of wine,” you smiled, sitting back down and knocking back another cup as the men roared with laughter.

Your father was right. A few cups of the strong wine later, you were rather giddy, insisting Jaime dance with you. He humoured you, your father and Tyrion laughing and cheering you on while Sandor smiled bemusedly. “Come now, YN... that’s enough for tonight,” Jaime said, helping you stagger back. “She’s drunk,” he grinned as you giggled, sitting yourself back down. Your fathered grinned, allowing you one more cup before smirking.

“Gods above, Cersei will have my head for getting you drunk...” Robert grinned, although he didn’t really look too worried. “Clegane, take her to her rooms and guard the door. Send for the maester if she’s unwell,” Sandor nodded and bowed, watching as you hugged your father goodnight, before taking your arm and guiding you out of the crowded hall.

As you walked through the courtyard of Winterfell, you shivered in the cold, leaning into Sandor a little more, trying to keep up with his wide strides. He helped you up the stairs to your room, rolling his eyes fondly as you giggled when you stumbled. “Come on, Princess, need to get you to bed in one piece,”

“I’d like you to get me in bed, Sandor,” you grinned, nudging him, fuelled by liquid confidence. He said nothing, opening your bedroom door, helping you inside before turning around. “What’re you doing?” You asked indignantly.

“Turning my back so you can get yourself dressed for bed,” he said lowly, gritting his teeth.

“I can’t undo the laces at the back... my ladies’ maid is still at the feast. Help?” You asked, already clumsily undoing your braids. Sandor sighed softly, cursing under his breath as he turned around. You had your back to him, holding your hair out of the way so he could unlace your gown. When you felt his strong hands against your back, caressing with the gentlest touch, you let out a little sigh, leaning back into his touch. Your gown pooled onto the floor, leaving you in your corset and chemise. His breath hitched, unlacing your corset. You smiled, turning around and he quickly averted his eyes- he could see your nipples through the fabric, thanks to the cold.

“C’mon, princess,” he said, clearing his throat, thankful his armour covered his cock; his trousers were feeling uncomfortably tight. “Into bed with you,” you nodded obediently, letting him help you up into the high bed. He pulled the blanket over you, and as he was straightening, you reached up to kiss him. He froze for a moment, before kissing you back gently, stroking your hair. His whole hand almost covered your head as he cupped the back of it gently. Slowly, he pulled away, much to your dismay. “Sleep, princess,” he said softly, pushing you down. You reached up, pouting.

“Stay?” You slurred, eyes already drooping as the alcohol caught up to you.

“I’ll be standing just outside the door, YN,” he said, blowing out the candles. “Can’t keep you safe if I’m in here, can I?”

***

Tags: @lotsoffandomrecs @zodiyack @rabeccablake @simonsbluee @wonderwoman292 @little-bit-of-randomness @doozywoozy

#sandor clegane has a heart #sandor clegane imagine #Sandor Clegane oneshot #Sandor Clegane x you #sandor clegane x reader #Sandor Clegane x y/n #2021 #Sandor Clegane fanfic #the hound x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #request #game of thrones oneshot #game of thrones fanfic

956 notes · View notes

greensaplinggrace · 3 years

Note

So you mentioned in another post that you have some strong thoughts on Baghra, especially about how the story frames her as one of the good guys. I would love to hear about it.

@youremotionallystablefriend: I would love to hear you rant about Baghra if you feel like it (and haven’t already)! Personally I don’t think she gets enough constructive critique in the fandom for being the one that brought Aleks up and for the way she treated her pupils and especially Alina :/

Anon: Hello! I love your thoughts on the grisha books. I'm actually interested to hear your take on Baghra

@misku-nimfa: If you are up for it, I would love to read your thoughts on Baghra or your full critique of society in the Grishaverse. Your analysis is really well structured and interesting! ^.^

Anon: Hi! I saw your recent post and was wondering if you'd share more of your thoughts on Baghra?

---

Hello everyone! I was honestly very surprised to see so many people interested in my thoughts on Baghra? I'll share what I can, but please know that this is by no means a full breakdown of her character! It’s just some Thoughts I’ve had, and they’re mostly centered around show Baghra because that’s how I was first introduced to her character. Although IMO book Baghra might actually be even worse.

I’d like to preface this by saying that many of my issues with the treatment of Baghra as a character in fandom come from the wild double standard there seems to be regarding her and the Darkling. Darkling Antis and a vast majority of the people in this fandom who don’t like his character have a disturbing habit of absolutely ripping into the Darkling for all of his faults and then turning around and treating Baghra as some sort of pristine mother figure for the exact same shit.

They’ll talk about how badass she is, how strong she is, how they sympathize with her past (although they’ll continue to dehumanize the Darkling and refuse to sympathize with his own past) and sympathize with the fact that she has to deal with the Darkling (who’s always referred to as a monster she must corral or control, as if he is inhumane and beastly. These particular comments always take on the very distinct tone of victim blaming as well). They’ll laud her for all of these “powerful girlboss” moments as if they aren’t carbon copies of the Darkling’s own behavior - as if they aren’t things Baghra herself taught him. Which is why this is the wildest double standard of all to me, because every horrible action they praise Baghra for is something she taught the Darkling, and something they cannot stand to see in him as well.

It’s as if there’s a disconnect between their consumption of the literature when it comes to the two characters, and I’m of the opinion that it’s largely because Baghra is a woman and a mother and therefore infantilized in the fandom quite a bit. In fact, Bardugo herself often infantilizes many of her female characters in her writing. This is mostly through the process of excusing their terrible deeds, not allowing them to do anything remotely dark, or brushing any morally grey actions under the rug without ever touching upon them. Which puts me in the strange position of knowing I’m supposed to sympathize with Baghra for having to deal with the monster she’s created, and instead feeling resentful of the fact that this bitter woman is held up as this wise old strict teacher instead of the abusive mentor/mother she should have been.

Now, here’s what I said to make so many of you send me asks:

Last note, in reference to your first line, and also probably a pretty unpopular opinion. I do not like Baghra. And it legit has nothing to do with the Darkling or with Alina, I just don't like her "I'm going to hit you and berate you and emotionally abuse you and manipulate you and act like the good guy at the end of it" vibe she's got going on. At least Aleksander is acknowledged as the villain within the narrative. Idk wtf Baghra is on but it's absolutely wild to me that people aren't more critical of her actions. Which is, rather fortunately for you, another rant I will save for another post if anybody ever wants to hear it lol. (but like kudos to Baghra's actress. I loved the character as a character, I just don't like the way she's framed as a good guy. Weird. Uncomfortable. She literally set bees on the kids she was teaching).

This basically summarizes most of my thoughts on Baghra as a character and how she’s portrayed. I touched on it a bit above, but the way she’s able to get away with so much and not suffer under heavier critique is honestly baffling to me. There should be a lot more criticism of her out there in the fandom. This is the woman who abused her students and neglected her son. Although to be honest I don’t even know how to quite describe the emotionally neglectful yet unhealthily codependent bond she fostered in him from a young age. IMO, Baghra’s behavior around Aleksander is creepy, and I know she has a history that makes it more understandable, but it’s still incredibly disconcerting to witness.

But let’s get back on track! First of all, her students. Whom she physically, emotionally, and mentally abuses. She’s derisive, she’s insulting, she’s belittling. She works hard to strip them of any self confidence they may have. She uses pain as a means of triggering powers. And the strict teacher excuse doesn’t fly. The “it’s only a training method!” excuse is even worse. This is literal abuse she’s heaping on her students and it’s wretched.

The first thing she does to Alina when they first meet is insult her. Then she hits her. Then she kicks her out.

Second time they interact is a montage. Baghra hits Alina multiple times. She shames her. And then when Alina actually calls a light she tells her it’s not nearly enough, effectively wiping the smile off of her face and every sign of self confidence that had been building. Then we see the door to Baghra’s hut shut in Alina’s face. So now she has been bruised, battered, berated, stripped of all self confidence, and then banished again. As training methods go, this is not only entirely ineffective, but it’s also just abusive.

Then we get this interaction between Alina and her friends:

Marie: One time, Baghra released a hive of bees on me. Nadia: Worst part is, it worked. Marie: It really did. I could summon at will after that.

Which is fucking horrifying and not talked about nearly enough. That goes beyond hitting your students. Baghra used a fear tactic on a young girl to activate her powers. She literally tortured Marie to make her powers work.

Alina throughout this conversation is looking very disheartened. She’s lacking in any self confidence and the comment about the bees has clearly affected her. For someone who’s first words to Alina were “Everyone believes that you are the one. Come back when you believe it too,” Baghra doesn’t exactly seem keen on Alina actually believing she’s the one. If she did, she wouldn’t be stripping her of every positive emotion associated with sun summoning.

Let’s not forget that Baghra demeans Alina multiple times for her status as an orphan. How she utilizes what she knows of Alina’s emotional weaknesses to provoke her and discourage her and make her angry.

And then Baghra drugs her without consent. To take advantage of any information Alina gives her in that state. To use the way Alina reacts for her own ends.

Because why else would she say this?:

Alina: We planned to run away together. Baghra: You had plans. Perhaps he never did, because where is he now?

Which is, strangely enough, the same sense of isolation and separation from Mal and her past that Aleksander is attempting to foster. Weird how mother and son are both using the same manipulation tactics.

In fact, why does Baghra never tell Alina about the letters until she’s already engaged with Aleksander? Baghra must have known he was taking them. Alina talks about it enough. Baghra must have known he was isolating her from Mal. How could she not, when it’s revealed later that she has spies in the Little Palace collecting information on him? How could she not, when she knows he’s the villain from the beginning - when she knows he’s manipulating Alina?

Baghra knows, and yet she keeps the same lies Aleksander does and furthermore uses that information to make Alina feel even more isolated and weak. Baghra literally just piggy-backs on Aleksander’s manipulation and then exacerbates it. She wants Alina to feel no attachments to her past because she wants to use Alina as well. But for some reason, because this manipulation and treatment of Alina as some sort of tool is done by the woman who opposes the Darkling, it’s suddenly okay. As if it still isn’t the same terrible shit but with a different perpetrator. I mean damn, at least Aleksander feels something for Alina. Baghra’s just cold.

So, point by point. Baghra mentions how Mal doesn’t care for Alina, she mentions Alina’s failings constantly, she mentions Alina being an orphan, she constantly hits her, she guilts Alina about orphans dying, she works to instill a sense of isolation from her friends and her family.

And when Alina finally comes to Baghra, having decided to abandon her attachments to her past and her attachments to Mal, the words that ring in her head are Baghra's words - “needing anyone else is weak.” Which is honestly just a horrible sentiment in general, but an even worse one when considering how hard these people are working to detach Alina from anybody who can help her or give her an outside perspective.

Strangely, it’s also similar to this line:

The problem with wanting, is that it makes us weak.

...which is spoken by Baghra’s son. You know, the Darkling? Our big bad villain? The one Baghra raised?

Which gives me the impression that Baghra’s teaching methods with her students are really not that far off from the teaching methods she used on him as he was growing up. It’s a horrifying thought, and leads into my problems with her relationship with Aleksander.

First of all, show wise. What the fuck.

Aleksander: They’re punishing us for being Grisha. Baghra: Punishing you. You made him afraid. Now he wants you to fear him. Aleksander: I won a war for him. Baghra: And in doing so, started a war on us.

I get that she’s trying to convey how the king feels here, but it still feels incredibly victim blamey from a narrative standpoint. It isn’t Aleksander’s fault the king fears him when he used his powers under the King’s banner to help him win a war. Aleksander trusted this man who betrayed him and then betrayed his people, and we get a line from his mother, entirely unsympathetic, talking about how it’s his fault all of these people are dying.

Baghra: Where’s the girl, your healer? Aleksander: Dead. She died because of me. Baghra: She died because they always do. They’re not as strong as you and me.

Baghra’s use of the term ‘girl’ and ‘healer' here instead of Luda is pretty telling. She either doesn’t like Luda or doesn’t care for her. Either way, this is the woman her son loves, and Baghra talks about her so dispassionately. Then he comments on Luda’s death and there’s no reaction except to say that they always do.

Like, her son is literally broken up over here. Grieving. Desperate. Run ragged. Caged and hunted. Feeling guilty as hell. Mind running through a million different ways he could possibly save all of these people. And Baghra offers him nothing except a paltry “people die, get over it, we’re better than that, she didn’t matter anyway.”

Honestly, how is Aleksander even still functioning at this point? He has no support system and he’s working against a king and his army to protect a group of civilians he could easily abandon to save himself. The sheer amount of responsibility and mental strain keeping track of a group alone entails is already monstrous, but adding in every other factor? The recent death of Luda, the fact that they’re cornered and they’ve been hunted down while fleeing across the land, the fact that he was just a couple hours ago forced to his knees and entirely at these men’s mercy, begging for Luda’s life. And here his mother is, if anything a negative support system. Offering no other ideas, telling him to give up hope, not even offering the barest smidgeon of emotional support as he grieves, putting everything on his shoulders.

It pisses me the fuck off.

Aleksander: You’re the one who taught me how to kill, mother. Their blood is on your hands as much as mine. Baghra: I taught you so you could protect yourself. Not them.

Once more, Baghra highlights how he needs to protect himself. How he should abandon the people he’s protecting. How he shouldn't help others and only ever himself. Once more, she says it’s my way or the high way. There’s zero effort to work with him. Zero effort to sympathize or compromise. She’s constantly pushing him to take the one option she knows he won’t take. The hell did she think was going to happen?

Also, Baghra taught him how to kill. Not necessarily great parenting, but understandable given the circumstances of his upbringing. But the level to which she takes it is honestly concerning. Like, look no further than this woman to see where Aleksander got it from lol.

Baghra also forbids him from using Merzost. Which is great and all, she gets to claim the moral high ground. But she doesn’t offer a single alternative except to flee and let everybody die. There was legitimately no other option to Merzost except for torture and death. If there was, Baghra sure as hell didn’t help Aleksander come up with one. Aleksander, who - by the way - is in no fit emotional state to be making any kind of decision right now.

So anyways, that’s just my tv show grief regarding Baghra, and it’s not even really all of it. I don’t want to make this an hour long read though lmao. But I’ll go over a few other things.

First of all, Baghra’s whole “We’re the only two that matter. We have to do whatever we can to protect ourselves,” mentality is one that she actively touts to Aleksander on a regular basis when he’s incredibly young. It’s honestly a wonder he grows up to care about other people at all. But the mentality itself is something Aleksander still heavily internalized in regards to protecting himself and those he deems worthy at any cost.

There’s a moment in the books when Aleksander is attacked and nearly drowned by some kids who wanted his bones (one of which was a close friend of his). He uses the cut in self defense and then blames the nearby Otkazat’sya village. Baghra knows he’s lying, and yet she allows an entire village to get slaughtered for harming him. This is a disproportionately violent act that Baghra approves of, and Aleksander as a kid is definitely internalizing that mindset.

Also, Baghra’s behavior around Aleksander has always been weirdly possessive and controlling. Especially when it comes to the people he loves. Her actions often come across as her trying to isolate him in order to keep him by her side, even when the relationships he has are clearly intimate. Which... is especially strange for a mother to be doing to her son.

She was also an extremely emotionally neglectful mother. Based on the show and what I gathered from her actions there, I’m actually half convinced she was physically abusive as well, in that “I think I’m being a stern, good parent figure when in reality I’m actually harming my child” kind of way. She fosters codependence with her son and then refuses to provide for any of his emotional needs. She drives it into his head that everybody dies, that he’ll always be alone, that love is useless and power is everything. She denies him the opportunity to be soft and works to harden him at a young age. She tells him he must never allow people to touch him, except she doesn’t work to supplement those physical needs in any way. She essentially abuses him.

Honestly, I could go on. But in reality the simple fact is that I just don’t like her. I think she’s a hypocrite. I think she’s abusive. I think she’s a terrible mentor and an even worse mother. And I think the fandom and the books are willing to brush aside so many of her faults simply because she opposes the Darkling.

I’m sorry if this isn’t what you guys were looking for! It sounds like a lot of you wanted a more of a sophisticated breakdown, but my thoughts on Baghra come with a heap of emotional baggage lol. It feels weird to say this now, but I actually do like the character as a character, I just,,, don’t like her in every other aspect. My feelings on Baghra are just a bit personal, to be honest. But hopefully this was at least comprehensible??

#shadow and bone #sab #grishaverse #anti leigh bardugo #anti baghra #baghra critical #sab spoilers #demon in the wood spoilers #aleksander morozova #sab meta #the darkling #fandomcourse #myramblings #leigh bardugo critical #mymetas #anti darklina bs #please dont hate me for this #aaahhhh now im worried #Yikes

336 notes · View notes

heartcal · 3 years

Text

“who do you believe?”; l.h. (pt. ii)

oh my GOD it’s here, it took longer than expected but she’s finally here! after the eye strain i got a sty so that threw me in for a loop, but the good news is my eyes are better! and i’m fully vaccinated too! please get the vaccine if you are able to :^) enjoy!

a/n: (formatting again lol) there’s a part where there’s supposed to be texts (in italics) so it may be a bit weird to read (hopefully not) (sorry for these parantheses) please let me know if there’s anything off!

pairing: luke hemmings x reader

summary: having known luke for years, it was bound to happen eventually. the crush you developed happened before you could stop it, and you did your best to keep it a secret. you told no one, did your best not to show it, so what do you do when his girlfriend finds out?

warnings: swearing (as usual),

genre: angst, fluff, basically friends (to brief enemies but not really) to lovers?

wc: 5,201 (they’re getting longer, huh)

taglist: @1sosrvd1267 + @wowitsel (side note: i don’t have a current taglist, this is just for this fic!)

part one | my masterlist!

You skipped the after-party that night. You couldn’t bear standing in the same room as Luke and Rachel, so you booked a ride and left as soon as the car pulled up.

Had you stayed for the party, you would have crumbled under the looks of pity thrown at you by those who would have heard about what happened. The knowing looks that something bad had happened between two people everyone on the crew knew were best friends would have been uncomfortable.

The ride home is uncomfortably silent, but you were thankful the driver wasn’t the talkative type. The soft jazz playing on the radio wasn’t calming but it did distract you from the pain and embarrassment you felt from the argument.

Once the car had pulled up to your place, you bid a silent farewell to the driver and slid out.

You just wanted to get inside, take a shower, shut your phone for the night, and sleep until you physically can’t get any more sleep.

You’re not too surprised Luke stood up for his girlfriend. He does love her—he’s shown that with friends and with fans. But the way he glared at you, defended her without trying to find out what exactly went down…he had never looked at you like that.

You’ve seen that look before; it wasn’t something you were used to but it was the look he would give paparazzi when they would harass you, the guys, and his friends. The glare carried such strength that it would make people back off. And so when it was directed towards you, it struck you hard.

Having done what you wanted to do once you entered the house, you lay in bed with wet eyes staring at the ceiling. Your phone was face down on your nightstand, completely out of reach to the point one slight touch could knock it off.

Maybe you were the one at fault. Maybe you should’ve told the truth about your feelings to Rachel or Luke before this all happened. It could have prevented the fallout and you would be with the guys and the crew celebrating a successful show.

But what good would that have done? Had you told someone, anyone, that you liked Luke more than a best friend should, would that have caused the same problem but presented differently? Or would something come from it? Maybe nothing would have happened.

A sigh escapes your lips as you turn your back away from the nightstand, facing the empty half of the bed and before your mind drifts to more pitiful thoughts, you close your eyes.

You didn’t dream that night. It’s as if you blinked, with the night flying by faster than you had wanted and anticipated.

The sunlight beamed down on you from above your headboard. It was late morning and it was time to face the harsh reality of the day.

There is no doubt you have lost Luke as your best friend.

Wiping the sleep and crust from your eyes, you sit up and vacantly glance around the room. The box where you keep gifts from Luke is illuminated by the sunlight, and with the vacant stare you stand to walk towards it.

You hesitate to open it; it’ll bring back memories of good times and with the events of the previous night, you do not think you can handle the rush of emotions.

It’s then when you realize your phone was off, and though you don’t want to do anything social today and would rather stay home with your favorite snacks and shows, you know you have to let your friends know how you’re doing.

You stall by washing your face and brushing your teeth, albeit slower than usual. You know that once you turn your phone on, the onslaught of questions and missed calls are going to take possibly an hour to clear up.

Sure enough, as you turn your phone on, the missed messages come in, barely giving your notification tone a break and the missed calls and voicemails were coming in fast. You can feel the heat from the battery on your palm, and for the sake of the phone you switch the sound off and turn on Do Not Disturb to prevent any new calls from coming through.

The messages you saw were from the crew, asking where you went and if you were okay. Others were from the boys minus Luke, and looking through the missed calls, there was nothing from Luke.

You’re not surprised, but the pain was still simmering within and seeing no messages or missed calls from him was adding to it.

You responded to the crew’s messages first, since many of them sent one or two messages asking simple questions: “Are you okay,” “Where did you go,” and “Did you get home safe?”

Then you responded to the boys’, Michael’s first since he had the least amount of messages.

hey, you didn’t have to leave. we could’ve talked some sense into him when he calmed down (11:37pm)

did u get home okay? we know you didn’t drive here yourself. (11:58pm)

please let us know you made it home. let us know you’re okay (12:10am)

hope you made it home and that you’re safe and okay. thank u for ur work today. please text me when you see these. goodnight (12:49am)

You typed your reply to him, letting him know that you were okay and got home safe.

Calum’s messages were similar, asking the same questions but some were repeated to emphasize his worry. In response, you answered his questions like Michael’s.

But even before you can open Ashton’s messages, seeing double digits next to your conversation with him, rapid knocks on your front door grab your attention.

With a groan you stand and grab your robe from the hook on the door, wrapping it tightly around your body as you open the door and groggily walk to the front door.

It was a stupid idea, as you weren’t ready to face anyone yet Ashton stands in front of you. He’s well-rested, a stark contrast to you as you were sure your eyes were still puffy and bloodshot, along with an occasional sniffle from your nose.

His eyes travel from your face, down to your feet, and back up to your eyes. He can immediately tell you had a terrible night.

“You weren’t answering anyone last night,” he begins, tilting his head as he narrows his eyes, “we were worried about you after you left.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “I just—I didn’t feel like talking to anyone.”

“You could’ve let one of us know that you were shutting off.”

You nodded with a frown, “I could have, yeah,” your eyes dart around behind him to avoid his worrisome eyes before asking him if he wanted to come in.

He doesn’t hesitate and steps in once you move aside, opening the door wider to give him enough room. He notes your bag in a heap on the floor a few inches away from the couch, and how your shoes were far apart, with one upside down, as if you flung them off.

“How are you holding up now?”

You shrug, still avoiding his eyes because you know if you make eye contact, you’ll break down and you won’t have control over the onslaught of emotions.

“Be honest,” his voice is soft, wanting to make you feel comfortable enough to open up.

You stare at the ground, biting the skin of your lower lip nervously. This is why you did not want to talk to anyone face-to-face. Talking to them over the phone, preferably through text, allowed you to lie to the other person (and if applicable, to yourself). But talking to someone in person, and to someone who can see through your lies, you were bound to break down and become vulnerable.

You inhale, taking careful steps to the couch and gently sitting down with a sigh. Ashton follows you, sitting next to you but giving you space to not overwhelm you.

“What happened last night—,” you lean back with your arms folded over your chest, “—was something that I feared. When I realized I liked Luke, I was so worried about him finding out and what the outcome would be. I knew from the beginning that things would never be the same if he found out, and I was afraid of the change that would come from it.”

Ashton listens intently, his eyes displaying sincerity as he listens to you list off your worries. What he saw last night bothered him to no end, and had he not exerted most of his energy during the show, he would not have slept at all and would have stayed up all night in a constant state of worry.

“So, now that Rachel knows, and no doubt Luke has caught on, I don’t know what to do. I responded to everyone’s texts before you arrived, and Luke sent nothing—not even a phone call.”

Ashton nods, swallowing before speaking, “Well, after you left, things went down that may be the reason why he hasn’t tried contacting you.”

Your head turns to face him, eyebrows furrowed as confusion embeds itself across the rest of your features.

Ashton readjusts himself, getting comfortable in his seat as he gathers the right words.

“Something happened after I left?” You ask as you shift in your seat to face him.

“Michael wanted to go after you, to at least offer you a ride back, but Calum went back to tell Luke that it was bullshit what happened. So, Michael went back to make sure they wouldn’t fight or anything. I also pointed out that he was a dick; choosing you over her when he’s known you the longest didn’t sit right with us. But he got defensive and kept wanting to leave but Rachel convinced him it was alright, so they stayed for the party. But the party was bad—the crew felt the tension and the vibes were down—,” he chuckles at the word choice, getting a small laugh out of you as well, “—it brought everyone out of the energetic and ecstatic mood we were in before the confrontation. We all kinda did our own thing during the party but we noticed things were tense between Luke and Rachel. And when the party ended, shit hit the fan.”

“What happened?”

Ashton sighs, “To make the long story short, they got into an argument when we were leaving the venue after Michael brought up your name. He said something like, ‘I hope they got home safe,’ and that you weren’t answering your phone at all. Calum and I pointed out, again, how rude Luke was to you and Luke kept defending himself. Rachel dropped an insult and something shifted. Basically, they’re done and the guys and I can finally fucking breathe.”

“Wait—,” you stand with bulging eyes, “—wait, are you saying they broke up?”

Ashton hums as he watches you mindlessly walk around your living room.

The guys have been waiting for their break-up. It’s not something they were open about, as to avoid any conflict with their best friend, but it was almost an unspoken agreement: Rachel was not liked.

As for you, it’s not like you were wishing for their break-up. You wanted Luke to be happy, and if he was happy in that relationship, then so be it. But you were not a fan of it. Yeah, you liked her in the beginning but when she started disregarding you as if you did something to offend her, you lost most of your respect for her. Now, with this news of their break-up, you don’t know what to do.

Are you happy? You don’t exactly feel happy about it, but there is some relief.

“So,” you sit back down on the couch slowly, “what am I supposed to do with this information?”

“Not sure,” Ashton shrugs, “but I recommend talking to Luke.”

You shake your head fervently, “No. I don’t feel like talking to anyone.”

“But you’re talking to me,” Ashton has a smirk, but you know there’s no malice behind his joke.

“You showed up unannounced, Ash,” you smile, “I was responding to everyone who sent messages and voicemails. I don’t feel like talking to anyone else in person.”

He holds his hands up in defense, “Fair enough, but don’t be a stranger.”

He gives you a quick hug, whispering something similar to ‘don’t shut Luke out’ before he pulls away and walks out.

Ashton’s words stuck with you for the next week. You felt comfortable enough a few days after the fact to contact the boys, eventually meeting up with Ashton and Calum for lunch and third-wheeling Michael and his fiancée. The only person out of your friend group and co-workers you have not contacted was Luke. He hasn’t contacted you either, but you do not think much about it as you’re still trying to figure things out. If he were to contact you, how do you talk about what happened?

You want to know why he was able to choose his then-girlfriend over you, but at the same time you don’t want to know the answer. You know that one day, and though it hurts, you will not be his number one. With the way he behaved that night, it felt like that dreadful moment came to earlier than expected, that he found his number one and you immediately became his second go-to person.

So it did surprise you when you were out with an old friend to receive a text from Luke.

Can we talk about what happened? (2:23pm)

You only stare blankly at the text, not even moving to type a response. You were in such a good mood, and not even this text would change it. Instead, you lock your phone and place it back in your pocket, noting to leave it alone until your day out comes to an end.

And when it does, you see that more texts from Luke had arrived, the final being sent an hour before the outing ended.

I know you’re mad, I understand that and I don’t blame you but please talk to me (2:31pm)

You’re reading these, please say something (2:33pm)

There are some things that I need to clear up with you, I want to apologize for what happened that night but I want to do it face to face. Please respond. (3:57pm)

Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be waiting. Sorry if I’m bombarding you with these texts, I just don’t want to lose you over something that I realize now should not have happened. Respond when you want to, I’ll be here. (5:49pm)

You could only let out a small chuckle at the persistent requests to talk, and you don’t deny the small—minuscule, honestly—flutter in your stomach. You don’t waste any time responding.

Sorry, I was busy. We can meet somewhere to talk. (7:08pm)

He responds about five minutes later, agreeing to meet at a small café the two of you love tomorrow afternoon.

The rest of the night for you is spent thinking of ways to carry yourself, being completely confident, and accepting the fact that you love your best friend. Pep talks in the shower and mirror to calm any arising nerves, revising the topics you want to talk about in your head so you keep the confidence.

As for Luke, he was struggling to gather all his thoughts. In the beginning, he thoroughly enjoyed the fact that you and Rachel got along. He liked seeing his best friend and girlfriend become friends like that. He didn’t notice the shift, however, and he wishes he did before things got out of hand.

When he defended Rachel, without finding out the story from all sides, he thought he was doing what was right. To him, friendships and relationships have the same base, but romantic relationships with a partner have a different structure than friendships do, and he was starting to see cracks in his friendship before he saw it in his relationship.

When he confronted Rachel after she insulted you, he started to see someone he never saw. He remembered the times Rachel ignored you, sometimes playing it off as if she never heard you. He remembered how she would make plans with everyone and exclude you, but he always played it off as an accident (even if he knew it wasn’t). He remembered all these times he noticed a change in mood when the two of you were in the same room, and he couldn’t believe he turned a blind eye to all of it.

It hurt him to break-up with Rachel—he won’t deny that because he did love her. It’s not that he saw the rest of his life with her as they weren’t at that mark in the relationship.

But, when he did picture his future, he always saw you. He always thought it was just as a friend, someone who was just joined at the hip. Yet, he was quick to throw that away for someone he rarely saw when he pictured the future.

Which is why, the next day, as he sits at a booth near the window of the café, he carefully goes over what he wants to say. He doesn’t want to ruin the chance to fix things between the two of you. If it goes awry, not only does he lose you, but his friendships with the band and the team will take a hit since they all love you.

The bell above the door rings making his head turn to watch you walk in. Your eyes danced around the café before they fell on him.

He couldn’t help the smile the formed on his lips, a small breath of relief escaping as he watches you walk towards him. The smile doesn’t stay long though, because as you sit down with a stoic expression, the reality hits him.

“I got your usual,” he’s shy and timid, pushing the mug toward you as he eyes the liquid nearly spills the edge.

You mumble a ‘thanks,’ grabbing the mug and taking a small sip. It falls silent as the two of you wonder who should start first.

Luke makes the move first. He sighs, sitting up straight and wiping his palms on his pants.

He’s nervous. When the guys started touring, visiting new cities and countries, he would always be nervous and constantly wiped his hands on his thighs, sitting up straight and even straighter if he wasn’t slouching. It’s an old habit, but something you remember fondly as he had grown out of it. Or so you thought.

“I want to start with I’m sorry,” he begins, making eye contact but fails to hold it. His eyes instead drift to his drink, “I know what I did was wrong, and I put you in a spot that hurt you and disregarded you. At the moment, I thought I was doing the right thing because she was my girlfriend, but then—” he gulps, “when she insulted you, it struck a nerve and, not to sound cliché or anything, it felt like it opened my eyes. I saw someone I didn’t see when I first met them.”

You don’t respond, just nodding your head to let him know you’re listening.

He licks his lips before continuing, “When the guys brought up how you left on your own, I was feeling nervous and they started reminding me how much of a dick I was to you. I didn’t want to admit it myself, but now, I was such an ass. I’m just—I’m so sorry for what happened.”

“Luke,” you sigh, shifting in your seat, “I’m not saying I forgive you but I accept your apology. It hurt me so much that a friend, someone I’ve known for years was just so quick to turn their back and take someone else’s side. I know she was your girlfriend, but I wish you didn’t do what you did.”

“If I could go back and fix it, I would.”

You only nod again, trying to think about other things that need to be talked about. The one topic you hope to avoid is the possibility of him knowing your feelings—something you do not want to discuss, at least not yet.

“Did she say anything to you?”

The question leaves your mouth before you register it, and the widening of your eyes catches Luke off guard.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, grabbing your mug and taking a long sip.

“She didn’t tell me what started the problems between you two, if that’s what you mean,” Luke smiles a bit, watching you nervously play with the mug’s handle after the sip. It fades when your eyes move up to meet his, “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but it isn’t important anymore. She’s out of the picture, and I don’t want to lose you.”

The silence returns, but unlike the previous bout, it’s a calming silence. It isn’t uncomfortable, rather the air is easier to breathe and the tension isn’t unsettling.

“Where do we go from here?” Luke asks, nervously wringing his fingers.

“I don’t want to lose you as a friend, Luke,” you offer a smile, “but it’s going to take some time to ‘heal,’ if you will.”

Luke smiles again, this time a bigger grin. He nods, leaning back in his seat, “Let me know what I can do to make things better. I’ll do it if I get to keep you.”

Over the next few months, your friendship with Luke was rekindled. The guys were at ease now that Rachel was gone and you seemingly had taken her place, even though you were friends. The awkward glances they would give when Rachel was in the same room were now playful rolls of the eyes over a dumb joke or pranks. You didn’t miss out on any outings you wanted to go to, now that everyone invited would check in with each other the night before. Things went back to the way they were before Rachel.

There was a change in your friendship, however. It wasn’t something you noticed right away, but it was something you thought about at night just a few weeks ago. Luke paid more attention to you, not that he didn’t pay attention before, but this was a noticeable change where he still looks at you even after you finished talking, and would only look away from you when you caught him. He would always cover his mouth with his index and middle finger, but you saw a small smile behind them. You played it off as friendly teasing, but it tugs on your heartstrings.

Another noticeable change is the hugs. Duration-wise, they were relatively the same. However the touch lingered; if he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, an arm would stay around your shoulder, meanwhile if they were around your waist, his hand would stay on the small of your back. You played it off as a friend being protective, but yet again, it did nothing to stop your growing love.

Tonight was the first night of their tour. The boys were up to their usual pre-show antics, as well as the nervous habits; Michael fixing his hair and deciding whether to go with a beanie or a hat, or neither, Ashton was warming up with his pre-show playlist, Calum testing his bass, and Luke was relatively fine.

Sure, he was nervous because it isn’t a crowd of 500, close to 20,000, but he was calm compared to the last time he performed. He didn’t have any worries to talk about, his vocal warm-ups were smooth, and getting dressed up was a breeze. He shared chuckles with you as you both watched the others move around with tense expressions (all with no malice, of course).

“You sure you’re not on edge?” you nudge Luke with your arm as he leans forward on the couch your sitting on to fix his shoe.

“Nope,” he sits up, leaning back in his seat.

“Really?” you inquire again, doubt laced in your tone with a hint of teasing.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “if anything I’m excited about tonight.”

You hum, crossing your arms as you watch Ashton walk over.

“Ten minutes left,” he nods at Luke before walking to Michael to tell him the same thing.

You give Luke a look, wanting to get him to admit he is nervous, but all you get is a smirk and a shrug. He stands, patting your shoulder left before walking away to put in his in-ears.

You won’t deny you still don’t have feelings for him. Throughout the past few months, you were able to pinpoint the reasons why you fell for him. The small acts, the obscure things he would remember about you—especially the ones you don’t remember yourself—with the attention he would give you. It was staring you in the face, but you chose to deny all the signals to give yourself the satisfaction of thinking it was just a phase. But now you know why you love him.

Two minutes until showtime, Ashton finishes his speech and the crew is taking their places. The band stands at the opening, waiting for their cue to head out.

As you watched them hype themselves up, you noticed Luke looking around nervously. Of course.

“Nervous?”

His head whips toward you, and you can see it in his eyes.

“A little,” he mumbles, but you don’t hear it over the crowd’s excited screams.

“You got this,” you grab his shoulders to make him look you in the eyes, “like Ash said, you guys worked your asses off for this album. The fans loved it, your shows are all sold out, and you have thousands out there waiting to see you kill it.”

He’s silent, blue eyes staring into yours as they bounce from one eye to the other.

“I love you,” he blurts, loud enough just for you to hear.

You freeze, the grip on his shoulder loosens but remain.

He notices, “She did tell me something that night, and whether or not it’s true, I-I love you.”

“Sixty seconds!” a stage recites in the earpieces.

The boys turn to look at both of you, curious eyes turn into surprise as they watch your expression.

“I don’t know how long, I don’t know when, and I don’t know what it was, but I know for sure.”

Your eyes glance at Ashton briefly, not missing the knowing smile he gives you before you look back into Luke’s eyes.

“I…love you, too,” you respond, gripping his shoulders while your eyes drop down to his shiny shoes.

He doesn’t hear you over the cheers and screams, but reading your lips he knows the answer.

Luke smiles, grabbing the back of your head and kissing your forehead.

He leans down to your ear, “I expect to hear you say it when I come back.”

With flashing lights scattering across the stage, the boys run out to the stage, big smiles gracing their faces for multiple reasons with adrenaline pumping through their veins. From backstage, you watch the show you a smile, feeling high from the brief but fulfilling confession.

It’s two hours later when the show ends. Your heart is pounding as you watch the crew celebrate the successful first show.

Luke pulls you away from the crowd, into the hallway and away from the noise.

“So it was true, what Rachel said?” Luke begins, his hand still holding yours as a shy smile forms.

“What did she say?”

He exhales air through his nose in a laugh, “She said you were in love with me, and that you were trying to break us up.”

You scoff, shaking your head as you look at your intertwined fingers. He squeezes your hand to get your attention.

“I doubt that last part, but the first part I’m hoping is true in a sense.”

Your eyes meet his, adoration swimming in them bringing a smile to your face, “There may be a strong crush I have on you,” you tease, “and it may or may not have turned into love.”

He laughs, letting go of your hand to wrap you in a hug. His head dips down, his forehead on your shoulder as he breathes in your scent. He moves slightly, whispering in your ear, “Say it.”

Your head rested against his chest, hearing his heart beat rapidly and rhythmically.

“I love you,” you whisper.

You feel him smile against your shoulder before he pulls away, his arms resting on your hips as he smiles down at you.

“If you’d like,” he begins, his tone timid now, “that place you like in Seattle has a new dish. It’s our next stop…” he drifts off, hoping you’d catch on to him asking you out.

You do, laughing at how he remembered yet another thing you seem to have forgotten. It was a themed restaurant that had some of the best food you’ve ever eaten, and for days you wouldn’t stop talking about it. But you never went back to it, even during breaks, but somehow he seemed to remember.

“Yes, Luke.”

You know the shock will hit you later that night, that finally the person you’ve fallen for, who happens to be your best friend, admitted his feelings to you. But you’re happy, Luke’s happy, and with the boys’ and crew’s reaction to the two of you walking back to the area where they’re celebrating, the happiness is infectious.

On the road in the tour bus, Ashton passes you as you respond to emails.

“Thanks for not shutting him out,” he says, drinking a small bottle of water from the fridge.

“Did you know?”

He shrugs, avoiding your eyes as he finishes the bottle and tosses it in the recycling bag. “Maybe,” he walks towards the back where the beds are, “maybe not.”

You shake your head, “You did.”

“Didn’t want to spoil it,” he gives you a quick hug before retreating to bed.

Luke walks out of the bathroom shortly after, taking his spot next to you.

“Go to bed,” you slightly shift your shoulder as he lays his head on it, “you need the rest.”

“No,” he mumbles, sleep lacing his tone, “feels like a dream. Don’t wanna wake up.”

You chuckle at his nonsense, finishing off the last email before shutting the laptop and placing it on the counter next to you. You adjust yourself on the couch to have Luke lay down with you. He readjusts himself so he doesn’t crush you, wrapping his arm around your waist and placing his head on your chest.

“I wish I had known before all the drama,” he mumbles again, eyes closed, “I want you in my life, always.”

He drifts off to sleep with that, a faint smile on his lips.

You know what made you fall in love with your best friend. You accept it now, and you’re at peace knowing the feeling is mutual.

263 notes · View notes

sparklysung · 3 years

Text

✨OPEN CURTAINS PART II – h.r.j.✨

pairing – huang renjun x female!reader

genre – fluff, smut | non-idol!au, neighbours!au

warnings – voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, fingering, penetration, protected sex

word count – 3.150 words

summary – after being caught jerking off to his neighbour, things only got better for renjun.

note – writing this was so frkng difficult and i’m still not completely convinced, but i hope it lives up to your expectations, tho! i’m sorry if it doesn’t :’) but i tried my best. also, i finished it earlier than i thought lol. enjoy and now, just you wait for part iii soon!

taglist – @junguwuuu , @prvncejxon

part i ; part 2 ; part 3

to say that renjun was mortified was an understatement.

after the incident of you catching him red-handed, he started avoiding you like the plague. he even started keeping his bedroom curtains closed, afraid of being seen inside and you deciding to confront him about it.

the poor boy couldn’t even sleep properly. he kept waking up almost every night with sweat coating his forehead, dark hair sticking to it, while heavy breaths filled the room.

the times when renjun was lucky, the cause of his insomnia was a wet dream, in which the both of you did everything but innocent things. every time it happened, he woke up in the middle of the night or early in the morning with a painful boner, precum staining the crotch of his boxers. either way, it always ended up with his hand down his pants, desperate for some kind of relief. never, not even during his teenage years, had he experienced so many wet dreams in such a short amount of time.

though when he wasn’t, nightmares tormented his slumber, messing up his sleep schedule even more. he was terrified of the idea of facing you after what happened, as he expected you to think the worse out of him. and to be fair, you had every reason to.

the sleepless nights he spent turning and rolling around in his bed plus the time he spent studying and working on his school assignments had deep dark circles forming under his eyes. it also had become part of renjun’s routine to fall asleep on his desk at school, too tired to pay attention to what was happening during class. and he was getting out of excuses for his exhausted state.

you were driving him crazy and he didn’t know how much time he was going to last until he broke down.

~.~.~.~

the day renjun most dreaded eventually came when he accidentally bumped into you while going to the nearby store.

it was supposed to be a quick and easy task. he just needed to buy some groceries his mother needed to make dinner later that day and the only person he would be required to talk to was the cashier. so he thought he was safe. that’s why, for the first time after the incident –as he had named it–, he decided to go out of his house for other than school and take a break from everything.

“ouch,” renjun didn’t look up at first, so he didn’t notice it was you who he had bumped into, his attention focused on the place where his arm was hit. “i’m sorry, i wasn’t paying attention,” he mumbled, ready to continue his path to the store.

“it’s fine, i noticed,” he froze in his spot as realization fell on him that it was you, the last person he wanted to see. his head shot up, eyes wide in panic and breath turning uneven as his mind raced with thoughts of how to get away from you as fast as he could.

maybe he should go back to china, after all, change his name and erase all traces of ever being alive.

“renjun, right? your name is huang renjun?” you slightly tilted your head and renjun thought he had never seen someone look so effortlessly pretty, his heart felt like it was about to combust. curiosity about your good looking neighbour –who you’ve been wanting to get to know so bad for a while– grew inside of you as you observed him nervously moving around. and had to admit you were especially intrigued after seeing him so unashamedly touching himself with his eyes locked on your body.

a completely different side of him from what you were currently seeing.

gathering the little courage he could find within his body, he spoke up, “uhm, yeah… i guess that’s me?” the sound of his awkward laugh made a smile form on your face.

“so…” renjun awkwardly scratched the back of his head, “i’m sorry for, you know… snooping around and nutting off to you like that, you know, a few days ago.” his hands started getting clammy as he felt his body heat up. “i know it wasn’t nice of me and it was so wrong… i just…” you almost let out a small chuckle at his flustered state.

as he stopped talking and just stared ashamedly at the floor, you decided to tease him just a little bit. “you just…?” you raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response before continuing, “you just happened to have your hand on your dick while looking out of your window the moment i caught you?” you jokingly questioned.

when his eyes opened wide with shock and the tip of his ears turned red out of pure embarrassment, you knew you’d hit the right button.

“fuck, i-i’m really freaking sorry, alright?” his hands came up to cover his face, voice wavering. “i don’t know what else to tell you or how to make it up to you?” he spoke quietly, unsure of what he was saying. your smaller hands took his out of his face, forcing him to look at you once again.

“oh, don’t worry about it, renjun,” you took a step closer without letting go of his hands, your chests almost touching, “you’ll have an opportunity to show me how sorry you are and make it up to me.” with a breathy whisper in his ear, you let go of him, turned around and walked away.

renjun stood there, dumbfounded, not knowing at all how to react.

you were so confusing to him. always so mysterious, staying locked inside your room instead of going out with your friends –and he knew for a fact you had quite a lot–. he had never seen you bring people to your house, let alone your room. he could tell you weren’t exactly shy, but more on the quiet side. you liked keeping to yourself and being a spectator rather than the main character, but either way, you were captivating. so much so that you didn’t need to be in the spotlight to be the center of attention.

since the first time he laid eyes on you when your family was moving in next door, he couldn’t take them away. it was like an invisible force pulled him towards you, making him want to get closer.

but you were out of his reach. and out of his league.

he could never catch up to you after class ended, as you always left as soon as your teacher bid goodbye. so he rarely got to see you due to being in different classrooms and hanging out with different friend groups.

that frustrated renjun to no end.

it felt like the universe just didn’t want you two to happen. like it despised the idea of something sparking between you. like it wanted you apart and as far away as possible.

that’s one of the reasons why he ended giving up on trying to get to know you. apart of you apparently not being interested in him anyway.

~.~.~.~

the one day renjun decided to open his curtains to let natural light and fresh air in, you happened to be at home. just like the first time. he felt a strange sense of déjà vu, as this was the first time in a while he was looking past his window and into your room.

through the also open curtains, he could see you, looking prettier than ever. your hair was messy as if you had just woken up from a nap. your oversized clothes made you look even smaller than you were. biting back a smile, renjun thought about how you would look like wearing his clothes. he was a few inches taller than you, so one of his shirts would probably fit you like a short dress.

he was scared of how much he had been thinking of you lately, especially of the way his heart fluttered against his chest whenever he did. the two of you hadn’t even held a proper conversation, he knew how slim the possibility of something happening with you was and yet he was crushing on you.

renjun didn’t notice he had been staring until he felt your intense gaze burning back at him. his eyes moved away from you as heat rose to colour his cheeks, tongue poking the inside of it. his hand ran through his hair, softly messing it up, to distract himself and prevent him from looking back at you.

he had been caught staring by you, again.

renjun tried to control himself, nails biting into the skin of his palm. he knew you were watching his every move the exact same way he was watching you. you had already confronted him one time about it and it was pretty awkward. he didn’t want to go through something similar again.

once was enough.

his eyes darted back towards you when you moved, successfully getting his attention back to you. neither of you broke eye contact as you positioned yourself so he could see you perfectly from where he was standing up. you laid on your bed, back pressed against your mattress as your head sunk into your pillows. he gasped when your legs opened, allowing him to look at both your face and hand as it slid down to the crotch of the leggings you were wearing, lightly rubbing your clothed bundle of nerves.

renjun forced himself to stay still and not give in so easily. his jaw clenched tightly as ragged breaths filled his room. he could feel his hardening member throb from the confines of his pants.

he wasn’t sure if you were just testing him, trying to see how much you could push him until he finally snapped, or if you were making a move on him, putting on a show to hint your interest.

and he was scared he was mistakenly reading your signs.

he knew he couldn’t afford fucking up his nearly non-existing chance of getting closer.

tugging your pants down your legs, you threw the cloth next to your bed. the revelation of you lacy panties made a groan fall from his lips, his own hand betraying him and making its way to the tent forming in his pants. fingers squeezing his bulge, he chewed on his lip.

you had him just where you wanted him, hot and bothered, hand rubbing himself through his clothes. he looked so good and you couldn’t wait to see him cumming again. truth is you couldn’t stop thinking about the fucked out state he was in a couple of days ago since he left you to get yourself off to the memory of the sinful things he had done.

you pushed the cloth aside, too eager to touch yourself to properly undress. gently massaging your folds to spread your slick arousal, you sighed in content. you would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy the way renjun was eyeing you hungrily, hands aching to touch you.

seeing your parted lips, red and swollen from biting into them, he wished he was able to hear you and listen to the sound of your moans and whimpers. all of the times he had fantasized about it flashed before his eyes as he tried to pretend they were coming from you.

“f–fuck,” mouth agape as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, hand sliding up and down faster when he saw your lips move into what seemed to be a moan of his name.

he hoped he was right and you were actually calling out his name while touching yourself.

soon enough, your fingers were plunging themselves as deep as they could go inside your pulsating core; renjun’s hips fucking his fist as fast as his body allowed him. loud moans and groans filled both of your rooms, neither of you bothering to keep quiet inside your empty homes.

both your orgasms came faster than you thought, thighs shaking as you both threw your heads back, crying out each other's names. renjun shot his load, his seed dripping down his hand, eyes focused on you as your walls clenched around your fingers, juices running down and staining your bedsheets.

your chests heaved with every pant you let out as you tried to control your uneven breathing, neither of you moving a muscle as you stared into each other's eyes.

~.~.~.~

the second time renjun got to see you put on a private show for him was slightly different.

this time, you weren’t exactly alone.

bitterness filled renjun’s body as he saw a guy, who he thinks looks an awful lot like one of his classmates, entering your room, hands intertwined with yours. his mouth fell agape when you closed your door and made your way towards the guy, who was sitting on the edge of your bed. he saw you straddle him, hands going to his cheeks before leaning in for a kiss.

renjun couldn’t see the guy, as his back was facing the window, but he didn’t need to, he could tell where his hands had travelled and it made him feel sick to the stomach. he didn’t like one bit of it, standing there by his window with a clenched jaw.

he wanted to be the one there with you, sitting on your bed with you perched on his lap while the two of you kissed. he wanted to run his hands along your body, softly caressing your sides. hold your smaller hands in his bigger ones, comparing them and laughing happily at the difference. tell you how beautiful you were and how he thought you were a work of art that blessed his eyes every time he looked at you.

it hurt his heart to see you with someone else that wasn’t him, but at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to look away. not with the way your eyes had wandered out of your window until they locked with his. he was about to yeet himself out of this world, hand reaching to close his curtains until you smiled at him.

you just smiled. at him. after catching him staring, again. while you were with another guy.

renjun stood frozen, hand mid-air, not knowing, again, what to do with himself. seeming to notice his internal conflict, you resolved you could be a nice neighbour and put on a show, just for his eyes to witness.

it was like a switch had been flipped inside of you.

he saw how your expression changed and he didn’t know if he should have been afraid.

with one of your hands, you pushed daehyun’s chest –the guy you were with– so he was laying down. the new position was perfect for renjun to see everything; he could see your hands pressed against his chest, hips hovering over his and hair covering your pretty face.

he tried to ignore the way the guy’s hands explored your body, feeling every part of you.

without breaking eye contact with renjun, you pulled daehyun by the collar and connected, once again, your lips. he propped himself in a more comfortable position, resting on his forearms. you pressed yourself down on him, rutting against his groin and earning a groan.

the bulge in renjun’s pants was getting more noticeable as time passed, but this time he didn’t restrain himself from touching himself.

two could play this game.

clothes flew all around the room as you both undressed. you pushed daehyun so he was laying on the bed. after rolling a condom on his shaft, you straddled him again, his hands coming to rest on your hips and help you grind on his length pressed against his stomach. a sigh fell from your lips as his hip bone came in contact with your sensitive clit.

with one of your hands holding onto his shoulder, you positioned yourself right above his dick. and as much as renjun despised the idea of someone else being so intimate with you, he was still curious about how you looked like when being pleasured. he wanted to see how your face contorted in ecstasy when cumming undone.

as he saw the guy’s cock ease into you, he tried to ignore the burning feeling in his throat.

lower lip caught between your teeth to prevent blurting out renjun’s name instead of daehyun’s, you couldn’t help yourself but imagine him instead of the man currently thrusting up into you.

you wanted him, not daehyun. as hot as you thought the latter was, something in the way renjun looked at you as his hand moved, trying to replicate the rhythm of your hips, turned you on to no end. you wished you were gripping into renjun’s shoulders instead, tugging at his hair, while he pounded into you and his fingers played with your clit.

and oh, how he wished he was that asshole.

definitely, you behaving so dirty under his intense gaze without a trace of shame, eyes never leaving him instead of looking at the guy you were with, was such a turn on for him. it made him think that, hopefully, you craved him just as much as he craved you.

daehyun kept ramming into you, both hands resting against the mattress and leaving your clit unattended. you internally scoffed, reaching out to get the job done by yourself. renjun seemed to understand your upset state as he visibly scowled, glaring at daehyun.

the asshole was only focused on chasing after his own orgasm, without thinking the smallest bit of the beautiful girl sitting on top of him.

renjun huffed angrily, he surely could treat you better. he would prioritize your pleasure before his, stay hard for a whole day without complaining if it meant he could make you feel good.

if only he could take care of you just how you deserve.

he could sense the change in your demeanour as soon as your fingers got to work, and he took a mental note to treasure this piece of information and make good use of it if he ever got the chance.

soon, the tightening knot in your lower tummy snapped and just like that you were cumming, squeezing around daehyun as he groaned, thrusting harder. your eyes closed, head tilting to the side and hands gripping the sheets while sloppily grinding down on him.

“so pretty, fuck,” renjun’s hips stuttered while his hot seed dripped down to stain his pants, a guttural groan leaving his chest.

and yet another pair of pants ruined.

but he wouldn’t mind dirtying more if it was because of you.

he reached for some tissues from his nightstand as he looked away, sudenly feeling ashamed.

renjun usually prided himself on thinking objectively before acting, but he was aware that letting all this happen wasn’t one of his wisest decisions.

or was it?

–lia:)

342 notes · View notes

outofsstyles · 4 years

Text

KILLER QUEEN (80s!AU)

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

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

Pairing: Musician!Harry + Bassist!Reader

Prompts: making it official + enemies but secretly lovers

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

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

❁ ❁ ❁

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s in a week.” You state.

Her shoulders drop, “Yeah, and?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❁ ❁ ❁

You’ve heard about the Blue Bird before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Piss off!” Ross snarls back at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about me?”

“How did you get in the spotlight?”

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

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

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

“Invisible side?”

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

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

❁ ❁ ❁

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess,” You gaze up at her.”

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

“They?”

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

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

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

❁ ❁ ❁

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Be my guest.”

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

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

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

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

“I want to.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You could say so.”

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

“Huh?” You blink back at him.

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

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

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

“I did.” You nod.

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

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

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

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

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

“Not a big fan of pink.” You shrug.

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

You chuckle. “Says who?”

“Says me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❁ ❁ ❁

“I have some exciting news for you.”

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

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

“What is it?”

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

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

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

“You mean getting a degree?”

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

“Who’s Cosmo?”

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Harry.” You say simply.

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

“Celebrating.” You shrug.

“Shouldn’t you be as well?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles. “You’re not wrong.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The words pique your curiosity. “How so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❁ ❁ ❁

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t think we would.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❁ ❁ ❁

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He furrows his brows. “What about them?”

“Well, do they know?”

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

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

❁ ❁ ❁

“‘S poking my eye.”

“Shh, quiet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just how you like it.” His hands fall to your waist, bringing it closer as you let your arms wrap around his shoulders.

His lips meet your on a slow kiss, allowing you to taste the strawberry flavor of the lipstick you’d applied earlier, the thought of messing it completely lost in your mind as you tilt your head to deepen it even more. His fingers now grip on your hips over your denim skirt that has ridden up considerably since you first propped yourself on his lap. For a moment you just stay like this, tangled on each other’s arms, every so often you scratch on his neck, pulling his hair just a bit so you can swallow the most delicious mewls.

He parts from you as slowly as the kiss started, pecking on your lips a couple of times before letting his head fall back, hands moving to rub at your thighs over your pink tights. His eyes are hooded as he looks up at you with a smirk, voice coming low as if he’s sharing a secret just between the two of you, “can we go to the back?”

“Sure.” You unstranddle him, adjusting your skirt as you stand up and offering your hands to help him to his feet. He takes them, almost bringing you back down on the couch as he pulls a little bit too hard.

Once he’s up he takes a look at himself on the mirror in the wall opposite to the couch, a pleased smile on his face letting you know he likes the result of your work. He reaches for your hand then, guiding you into the hallway and out the back door you’ve become so familiar with.

Walking into the alleyway, he walks to his usual spot, leaning back on the wall and pulling you with him. His hands easily find their place on your waist once again, fingers tapping against the fabric of your skirt anxiously. Looking down at you, there’s anticipation on his eyes, as if he’s trying to tell you something but is waiting for you to bring it up.

“So,” he begins, eyes darting around as he parts his legs a bit, enough to fit you between them as he pulls you closer.

“So…” You say, drifting off as a way to encourage him to keep going.

“I’ve thought about the date thing.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his har. “Wasn’t I the one that was supposed to be doing that?”

He shrugs slightly, looking down to where his fingers fiddle with a loose strand of your vest. There’s something very endearing about seeing him so nervous, a complete opposite to how he carries himself in public, as this cocky and confident guy. You’re grateful that he allows you to see this side of him, though, bringing your hand to caress his jawline as you wait him to speak his thoughts. “Yeah, but I had like, an idea, or whatever.”

“Do tell.”

“I thought we could do--” he shakes his head a bit. “We could go to a place that’s still more reserved, and stuff.”

“Like?”

“I dunno, I--” he chews on his lip, a habit he’s starting to get from you. “Thought we could go to my flat and like hang out, we could go to that diner that has a drive tru and get something to eat and go back to my place.”

“Are you trying to take me home, Styles?” You tease, not being able to hold back a smile.

“It’s not like that, I just--” he huffs, cheeks getting a bit flushed as he tries to explain himself. “Just if you’re comfortable with it, of course, we can still go around on my car if you prefer, I don’t mind.”

“Harry?” You hold his cheek, moving it so his eyes can meet yours. Rubbing your thumb against his smooth skin, you try to soothe him, shooting him a fond smile. “I think that’s a really nice idea.”

“Yeah?” You don’t miss the way his eyes light up. “Is that a yes, then?”

“Of course.”

“Cool, I can, like, call you before I leave home so you can go to our spot and I can pick you up, yeah?” It’s the fastest he’s speaking since the moment you walked out of the building, voice a pitch higher. “How about Friday?

“Great.” You giggle, tangling your fingers on his hair to pull him down so his forehead rests against yours. Lips brushing, you blink up at him, jade eyes flickering around your face, “I can’t wait.”

He smiles. “Me too.”

❁ ❁ ❁

An annoyed puff leaves your lips as you notice another typo in one of the words inked in the paper poking out of the typewriter. You grab it maybe a bit too forcefully, this being the fourth time in a matter of minutes you had to do this. Taking it out of the platen, you reach for the whiteout conveniently prompted next to you, carefully correcting the error before putting the paper back on the machine.

With the end of the term peeking around the corner, you’ve been finding yourself in this position more often than not. Either rushing with your essays or grading assignments from your students. No matter what the arrangement is, however, there’s always a guarantee to have a half-empty mug of coffee and a pile of textbooks spattered on your desk.

This time around is no different, as you lean back on your chair, closing your eyes and rubbing your hands over your face, you try to focus on Cyndi Lauper singing in the background as a way to relieve your stress. You can feel the inkling of a headache deep inside your forehead, indicating maybe it’s time to give yourself a break, So, you try your best to relax the tension out of your muscles, breathing in the soft chamomile scent of the burning candle on your nightstand -- it’s one Lena gave to you to help with the stress a few days ago. What disturbs you from your moment of meditation with Time After Time, making you snap out of your breathing exercise, is the ringing tone of the telephone echoing through the house. The sound comes into your room a bit muffled thanks to your closed door, but it’s still enough to irritate you.

You hear closely to the sounds outside your door, waiting for Lena, who you know is propped on the couch downstairs watching TV, to pick up the call and cease the annoying tune interrupting your moment. And as you predict, in just a few minutes the ringing noise stops as quickly as it started, making you relax back on your chair. Closing your eyes again, you let yourself go back to the moment before the interruption, untensing your shoulders. You can hear the pound of heavy footsteps coming up the wooden staircase, but don’t process them getting closer until your door swings open.

Lena is standing in your doorway with an expression that’s hard to read at first, her brows set on a slight frown her hairline and mouth agape. Before you can tell her off for her sudden entrance she’s already speaking, “can you tell me why the fuck Harry Styles is calling our house looking for you?”

You can feel your heartbeat falter at her words, eyes widening as you glance at your bunny-shaped clock and realizing you had gotten so lost in your studies you forgot about the date. “Shit,” you get up so fast from your chair it falls back on the rug. You turn to Lena, who’s watching the scene with the most amused smirk on her face, “is he still one the line?”

As soon as she nods you’re stumbling down the stairs, almost falling down on the last steps but catching yourself up on the railing. You reach for the wired phone lying upwards on the hallway stand, picking it up and walking into the closest door - which happens to be the coat closet - closing it behind you.

“Hello?” You sound out of breath, heartbeat roaring in your ear.

“Did I fuck it up?” His voice is hesitant, nearly remorseful, it makes your heart drop.

“I-- no, you didn’t.” You reassure, leaning back on the wall of the tiny space, instantly regretting your decision of not choosing the restroom in your panic state. “I just got caught up with an essay and didn’t see the time passing.”

“Do you want to reschedule?” He drags out the words as if he doesn’t want to say them. “We can do this another day, I don’t mind.”

“No!” You protest quickly, reaching back to roughly adjust a hanger that’s poking on your neck, causing a raincoat to fall on your feet. “Of course not, I really need a break, anyway. I want to see you.”

“Want to see you, too.” You can hear the smile on his voice. “What about your friend?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple slightly. “I’ll talk to her, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.” He says. “I’ll be at yours in around fifteen, is that good?”

“That’s perfect, yes.”

“I’ll see you in a bit then…” He drifts off, as if he wants to say something else, but stops himself.

“See you.”

The familiar sound of the deadline takes place and you sigh, letting your head fall back on the wall with a thump and staying like that for a moment. When you step out of the closet, the first thing you see is Lena leaning against the railing of the stairs, shaking her head at you in disbelief. “You bitch.”

Your shoulders drop, not wanting to have this conversation right now, as you put the phone back on the base. “Can we not do this--”

“You’ve been fucking him all this time and you didn’t tell me?” She crosses her arms under her breasts. “Abbey is gonna throw a fit when she knows this.”

“You’re not gonna tell her.”

“I’m not.” She agrees with you. “But she already knows you’re sneaking out with someone.”

“She does?” Your voice gets higher, eyes widening slightly.

“She might be high as a kite most of the time, yes, but she’s not stupid.” She chuckles. “And you’re not the best at hiding either, or you thought we wouldn’t notice you’re barely at home anymore?”

You frown your mouth, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. “Does she suspect that it’s him?”

“Not really no, thought it was one of your students.”

You can’t help the horrified look that takes over your face. “I tutor children!”

“Ooh,” she breathes out a laugh. “Well, to be fair, he’s probably the last person she would suspect.”

“She’s gonna kill me.”

“Probably.” She shrugs. “But she’ll just have to get over it.”

“I guess.”

Lena looks at you, dropping her arms as she walks to you. Holding into your shoulders, her expression softens. “Don’t worry about this right now, okay? Go get ready for your date.”

“You’re right.” You sigh, nodding. It takes you a second, but as you process her words, you frown, squinting your eyes at her. “How do you know we have a date right now?”

Her hands drop, mouth scrunching as she waves her hands around. “I just guessed.”

“Were you listening on the line?’

“Of course not!” She steps away.

“Adeline!”

She backs away, reaching the bottom of the stairs with the guiltiest look you’ve ever seen splattered on her face. “It was just a bit of it! I was curious!”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I’m gonna cut the cord of that phone in your room.”

“No, you’re not.”

Raising your eyebrows in challenge, you take a careful step in her direction, causing her to go up another step. There’s a beat of silence where you two just stare at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. When you finally give in, racing towards the staircase, she stumbles up the rest of the steps, the sound of your giggles mixing together taking over the space.

❁ ❁ ❁

There’s an instant sense of comfort when you see Harry’s lime green Ford parked on your usual spot, one that gives an extra pep to your walk, pushing all the stress you’ve been dwelling with to the back of your mind. And as you relax into the leather seat, windows down and radio up, you let yourself enjoy the anticipation of spending the rest of your day with him that settles deep in your stomach.

You’d always wondered what Harry’s apartment would look like, imagining his LP’s splattered across the place, along with loose papers filled with guitar riffs and song lyrics. Maybe a couple of plants here and there, from what he told you he had tried to take care of one or two before, but always ended up forgetting to water them on schedule. And there’s also a notion inside of you that two young men living together in an apartment are bound to live in somewhat of a nest, so you brace yourself for the piles of beer cans and video game wires tangling on the floor.

When he opens the front door for you, letting you walk in before him, it does surprise you to find a tidier place than you’d expected his living room to be, but you realize you’d not been much far off with your assumption. It’s clear this is a house of musicians from the second you step in, the first sight being two guitars leaning on the wall next to the mud green couch, surrounded by - you guessed it - loose papers, which you assume are filled with scribbled ideas. A wall piano also stands out across the room, a single ashtray standing on top of it next to two candles, where you assume comes the faint scent of vanilla comes from.

“Sorry about the mess,” Harry speaks out from behind you, shrugging out of his usual denim jacket and throwing it over the couch arm, looking back at you with his hands on his hips.

“It’s alright.” Your teeth sink on your bottom lip as you take in the sight of him. Without his jacket, he’s left with just a wine-colored half-buttoned blouse, sleeves rolled up to his elbows so some of his tattoos are exposed. Part of the hem is tucked inside his low waist jeans that hug his thighs so perfectly it makes you want to grip your nails on it. Shaking your head, lightly, you let your eyes wander around the room once more, so he doesn’t notice you gawking at him. “Was expecting worse, to be honest.”

“Do you think that little of me?” He feigns offense.

You giggle, taking a lazy step towards him, shrugging. “I just don’t expect two young men to know the basic of cleaning, that’s all.”

“That’s fair,” he chuckles, taking a moment to just look at you. When a silence settles between the two of you, you raise your brows at him, waiting for him to make the first move. He clears his throat, running his hand through his hair. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Sure!” You nod. “Do you have, like, beer or…”

“Yes, yes I--” he stops, face lighting up in realization. “No wait, I have something better.” He strides towards a door to where you assume the kitchen is, calling over his shoulder, “make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back!”

You laugh to yourself, shaking your head as you pull your purse off your shoulder, letting it rest beside Harry’s jacket on the couch. Glancing over your shoulder, there are no signs of him coming back, so you take the opportunity to snoop around the area.

There’s a small center table in front of the couch, probably the messiest part of the room so far, a few movie magazines splattered around with another ashtray lying on top of it, a few butts of cigarettes long forgotten along with their ashes. Next to it, is a VHS cover of </i> Ghostbusters, a rental receipt paper scrambled on top of it. What calls your attention is a couple of cassette tapes, some with titles you recognize from being Harry’s songs scribbled on top of them but others don’t have a label, which leads you to assume they must be blank.

You walk around the table, gazing to the tv stand, where a poster of Freud is stuck on the wall behind it -- and breathing out a laugh as you notice someone had drawn glasses and colored his beard with a red sharpie. A bookshelf stands next to it, completely filled with records (apart from a single succulent that has a piece of paper with the name “Ziggy” glued to it). Your curiosity gets the best of you, picking up some LPs on random and what does surprise you, is the lack of a common theme between them. Finding a bit of everything, from some very recognizable names you’ve seen Harry rock to, like Billy Joel and The Clash, to some you’d never even heard him speak of like Culture Club and even a brand new Madonna record.

You have just picked up the cover of Ladies of the Canyon when his voice startles you from behind. “Mitchell, huh?”

Turning back with the record still in hands, you look down at it. “I love her.” You glance up, taking notice of the glasses in his hand, filled with a liquid of a yellow so bright it reminds you of a highlighter. “What’s this?”

“This,” he hands you a glass. “Is a drink we made.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “You made this?”

“I’m a man of many talents, bunny.”

“It looks like poison.” You bring the glass up to your nostrils, taking in the strong scent of alcohol. “Am I going to be poisoned? Is this a big plan to get rid of your rival’s bassist?”

“Stop being silly.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s mainly pineapple and vodka, takes weeks to be done, proper fancy stuff, you know?”

“Oh yeah super fancy.” You tease, chewing on your bottom lip to hold back a smile.“Pineapple and vodka.”

“Shut up and drink it.” He says, watching you carefully as you slowly bring the brim of the glass to your lips, taking a small sip of it. An instant sweet taste of pineapple invading your tastebuds, but the vodka is so present it makes you scrunch your nose. Harry gives you a small smile, eyes trained on you as he waits for your verdict, “so…”

“It’s strong.” Your face is still a bit rumpled from the alcohol, but you relax it eventually taking another sip of it, this time quite more prepared for it. “But it’s good, tastes like pineapple and vodka, who would say?”

“Shut up.” He chuckles, taking a step back and propping himself down on the couch.

With the record still in hands, you turn to put it back where you found it, admiring the full bookshelf once more. “Got a nice collection here, Styles, I gotta admit.”

He sips on his drink. “Found something you fancy in there?”

“A couple.”

“Put on something you like.” He motions to the record player standing next to the shelf. You look through the vast collection again, picking some at random and putting it back once you realize it’s not what you’re looking for. After going through a few, you finally stumble upon Elton John’ Madman Across The Water, holding it up to show it to Harry. “Oh, so we’re in one of those moods?”

You pull the vinyl from the sleeve, carefully placing it on the player and adjusting the needle over it. As the beginning note of Tiny Dancer float through the room, you look back at him. “What mood?”

“Like, a happy-sad kind of mood.”

You nod, setting yourself on the couch next to him. “That’s a nice way to put it.”

As the first few songs swim in the air around there’s a light chatter that settles between the two of you. Nothing out of your ordinary conversations, mainly consisting of you gushing over John Taylor as Harry rolls his eyes and sips on his drink to mask the drop of jealousy that grows on his chest -- “He’s not that good looking, you lot should have better standards” he said with a huff, making you giggle at his antics and pinch his cheeks. But it doesn’t take long, barely going halfway through the record, until the two of you begin to feel more lightheaded, eyes glossy and tongues getting looser. You should’ve expected that from the very first sip of the drink in your hand, knowing it wouldn’t take much more than a glass of it to get you right boozed up. And it doesn’t help that which each sip of it the sweetness of the pineapple takes over the strong taste of the alcohol, and in a matter of a few songs, you already feel your mind soaring away.

Harry is not much different, you realize, becoming quite a bit of a giggly drunk as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes and slurred words coming out of his mouth (which only makes him laugh more at himself). From what he told you, it hasn’t been the first time he and Mitch attempted on making the drink themselves. They tried it at a cramped bar right outside a Tears For Fears concert and it had gotten them so knackered so quickly they went back the next day to ask the barman (who also happened to be the owner) what was it in. Turns out it was just watermelon and vodka, but the man also explained that the technique he used that took about two weeks for the drink to be ready. From the man’s explanation, it seemed simple enough so they decided to try it for themselves, except they replaced the watermelon with pineapple.

“Just to add a bit of fun to it.” He shimmies his body.

“Is it like the original, though?”

“‘S close, but not quite his.” He hiccups. “I’m convinced he left out some of the details, the bastard, didn’t want to go around giving out the secret formula of it.”

You giggle, biting into the brim of your glass. “I’m curious to try it with watermelon, now that you’ve mentioned.”

“You have to, bunny!” His head falls back on the couch, dimples so deep you want to bite into them, his hand strokes lazily on your thigh, every now and then moving up to rub at the hem of your playsuit. “I’ll take you there sometime, we can get baked and crash into a concert at the music house that’s right in front of it.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

When the blue of the sky outside begins to fade into a golden glow, ribbons of pink and orange cutting through it, you’re already completely far gone. The record player is now only letting out a faint buzz from the lack of sound now that the LP is over. Your head is filled with clouds and you don’t register when Harry reaches back for the guitar, only really registering it once he’s stringing out a familiar melody. He stumbles with the lyrics but as soon as you recognize the beginning line of </i> Big Yellow Taxi you’re joining him, your voices tangling in a high pitch as you more of scream the lines than really bother to sing it. Harry gets completely lost in it, and you let him take over every so often just to watch him, mimicking Joni Mitchell's voice and even enacting her laugh, which makes you laugh until your belly hurts and your cheeks get flushed.

It’s one of those moments you want to get locked in, to live in it forever. Watching him stumbling the lyrics of different songs, the words tumbling out of his mouth between giggles, fingers stroking the cord of the guitar maybe a bit too harshly as you join him without a care in the world to who may be bothered by it. You feel so free with him, it’s a feeling that takes over your whole body, a warmth of knowing you don’t have to filter yourself or fit any type of expectation. And as he ends another cover with violent strokes on the guitar you laugh along with him for a moment before letting the room quiet down. Crossing your arms over the back of the couch and resting your cheek against it, you just look at him.

His bloodshot green meets yours, his chest rising as he catches his breath from the frantic songs, teeth sinking on his bottom lip as he smiles at you. “Gonna slow down a bit fo’ you.”

You raise your brows at him, smiling in anticipation as he begins to smooth his fingers through the cords much more gently than he had been previously. His head moves along to the beat as he gazes down at the instrument, a slight crease forming between his eyebrows in concentration. It’s a complete contrast from the playful demeanor that had taken over the room just minutes ago.

“Love of my life, you’ve hurt me.” He begins, and your ears instantly perk up as you identify the same song you’d heard him play months ago at the pub, the one that made you enter it to watch him for the first time. “You’ve broken my heart and now you leave me.”

It’s much different now, however, not just from the fact that he’s singing it on his own without the band backing him up. But it’s the meaning behind it, the rawness of his voice, low and slightly raspy, the words still come out a bit mumbled but you couldn’t care less about it, only focusing on the emotion he puts to them.

“Love of my life, can’t you see?” His eyes are still set on the guitar and you search for them almost desperately, shifting closer to him and cupping his cheek, guiding him to meet your gaze. “Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me.”

The swell in your heart is overwhelming to an extent, his glossy eyes looking into your with such sincerity it makes you want to jump on him, but you hold back as he keeps going, feeling nearly hypnotized by his voice.

“Because you don’t know, what it means to me.” He leans into your touch, turning to press a quick kiss on your palm as he keeps stroking the chords in a quiet melody. “Love of my life, don’t leave me.”

You can’t help but shake your head slightly as he sings the lyric almost like a plea. “You’ve stolen my love, and now desert me.” He looks back down at the guitar, letting your hand fall to his shoulder. “Love of my life, can’t you see?”

“Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me.” Peeking under his lashes, he grins up at you, and you can only imagine how you must look to him. Mouth slightly agape, barely blinking as you’re scared if you do this will all turn out to be nothing but a dream. His voice comes out next a bit lower, stretching out the words, “Because you don’t knoow.”

He strokes the chords a bit mindlessly now, playing with the sound of the melody, and he does it so effortlessly you almost hold your breath as not to miss it. “What it means to me.”

When he stops, you don’t really think before latching yourself on him, throwing one leg on each side of his thighs, and cupping his face before meeting his mouth with yours. He immediately wraps an arm around your back, his other hand taking the guitar off his lap and blindly placing it against the wall next to the couch. Once the instrument is no longer a barrier, he places his hands on your hips, pulling you closer. You can taste the memory of a pineapple still lingering on his tongue as you lick into his mouth. The kiss is hungry, maybe a bit sloppy thanks to the substance still very much present in your bloodstreams, but you don’t mind, only moving a hand to tangle on his hair, scratching at his scalp before pulling at his roots.

A whimper escapes from his mouth, getting lost inside your throat, his grip on your thighs tightens, nails digging in it and you know will leave crescent shapes on your skin. It only makes you do it again, this time his head tilting backward with a small groan, disconnecting your lips, but you’re soon to connect it again, splattering kisses along his jawline until it meets his neck. When you suck on his pulse point, running your tongue over it, his skin vibrates on your lips as he lets out a whine. His hands are now running all over your thighs before resting on top of your ass, bringing your hips to grind against his.

Even with your hazed mind, it’s still hard to miss the very prominent bulge under his jeans. It makes you pull back, looking down to see it straining against his zipper. There’s a flip of a switch inside of you when you realize how much he’s yearning for it, it’s the desire you’ve been pushing back for months now, crashing into you like a wave and you can barely contain a small mewl at the sight.

“Bunny.” He breathes out. When you look back to him, you notice his eyes have darkened considerably. “We don’t have to--”

“Please.” You let your forehead fall against his, rolling your hips again, stealing another whimper from him. “If you want to, I want to.”

“I do -- fuck, I do.” He nods as you keep grinding on him, his hand disappearing on your back pocket, trying to get as closer to you as possible.

When you meet his lips again, the kiss is somehow eager than before. The longing is evident as you grab onto each other. Your hands travel down his chest, nails digging softly on his exposed skin, and once you feel the fabric of his shirt, you’re quickly to undo the rest of the buttons, not disconnecting from him as you do so. Smoothing your hands back up to his shoulders, you help him shrug off the material, letting it fall to the couch without paying mind to it.

“Wait,” he sneaks between kisses, hands coming up to your waist you push you off gently.

You watch with your brows narrowed as he gets up from the couch, walking to his shelf and standing in front of it, looking for something. Leaning to your side, you let yourself admire the muscles of his back as his fingers run through the edges of the records. It’s impressive how even though his collection takes over the whole furniture, he still seems to know exactly where to look for it, focusing on a small section right at the top. He quickly finds what he’s looking for, pulling it with a ‘Aha!’ before turning back to you.

He holds up a very familiar black cover, the imprint of Queen’s Greatest Hits instantly calling your attention. Doing the same as you’d done earlier, he takes out the disk, placing it on the player before adjusting the needle over it. You watch it with a smile teasing on your lips, finding oddly endearing how he made you pull away from him with the sole purpose of putting on a soundtrack -- making notice to put on something you’d like, as well. He cranks up the volume as the first words of Bohemian Rhapsody start to swallow your thoughts, turning back to you and offering his hand with a cheeky grin painted on his face.

Taking his hold, you let him pull you up from the couch and, before you can really register it, he’s guiding you through the hallway. You stumble on your footing as he rushes a bit to fast for you to really wrap your head around it, the walls of the corridor passing by almost in a blur as it takes your mind a beat too long to catch up with your eyes. Still, your giggles dance along with his all the way to his door at the end of it, making you feel like a couple of teens sneaking out for the first time.

He doesn’t give you a single minute to take notice of his room -- not that you would at this moment, your arousal pooling at your underwear only enhancing the haziness of your mind. In just a speck of a second, he’s already pushing the door closed, your body being pressed against it not long after. His arms find their place on each side of your head, his lips searching hungrily for yours as your fingers find their home between the strands of his hair once more.

“Shit, need you so bad, baby.” he presses his hips against yours, mouth hot as he sucks in the skin of your jaw, all the way down your neck, finding a spot that makes you whine under his touch. “That’s it, darling, let me hear you again.”

“Harry,” you mewl as his teeth sink on your skin gently, his tongue swiping quickly over the spot before he trails back to your cheek. You melt under his touch when his hands find their way back on your body, one of them caressing the side of your breast softly, thumb poking out to rub the spot where you nipple pebbles under your layers of clothing. This brings out a desperate whimper from your throat, your head falling back on the door as you close your eyes, trying to savor every slight touch of his. “Please.”

“Look so fucking pretty in this piece, bunny.” The sound of his voice is right below your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin making the hairs on your neck rise. “Look gorgeous in anythin”” he turns his head to bite at your earlobe. “But I really need it gone right now.”

Your eyes snapback open when you feel him pull back from you, his hands finding the front buttons of your playsuit, fiddling them open so easily you barely register it. His lips are back on yours, this time slower, letting his desire be known at every brush of his tongue. Smoothing his hands on your shoulders, he helps you out of the sleeves of the top. As soon as your back is disconnected from the wooden door, you start moving forward before you can really think about it, pushing him back gently until the back of his knees hit the mattress and he’s sitting back on the bed.

There’s hardly a speck of green left on his darkened irises when he looks up at you, watching your every move as you shift the material down your body, letting it pool on your feet before you kick it to the side. Taking a slow step towards him, his hands holding onto your hips almost unconsciously, you reach back to find the hook of your bra, but he stops you before you can even quite grasp it. “Wait,” he pulls you closer, making you fall a bit awkwardly on his lap, your hands moving to grip on his shoulder for support. “Let me.”

You adjust your position on top of him, your knees resting next to his thighs, as he handily unhooks your bra, removing it quickly from your arms and tossing it to the side. A gasp escapes your mouth as he wastes no time before attaching his mouth to your breast, tongue circling on your nipple before sucking in. His hand tries to give the same attention to the other one, grasping onto it as his thumb caresses the pebbled nub.

The crescendo of the song comes muffled in the background and it’s as if it’s echoing inside your head while you mindlessly roll your hips against his. The motion makes the lining of his zipper rub deliciously against your clit under the thin fabric of your underwear, and it reminds you of his hardening length pressing on his jeans. It seems to remind him as well, as his mouth parts from your chest in a groan, his lips licking at the space between your breast, kissing all the way back to your neck, where he hides his face with a strangled moan when you grind down a bit harder.

“Can’t take the tease, baby.” He pants. “Need you right fucking now.”

You pull back from him, gazing down at the tent on his pants and bringing your hands to fiddle with his belt. It takes you a bit longer to manage to pull it out, as his eager lips attack your neck once again. At this point, you can only imagine the marks he’s made on your skin, knowing the reddened spots will soon come to a purple shade, but it’s the least of your worries as you pop the button of his jeans, opening up the zipper.

“Stand up just for a sec, darling.” He taps on your hip and you do as he asks, stepping back to plant your feet on the floor.

He shifts out of his pants, bringing his briefs along with it and you watch the way his cock all but jumps out of its restrains, slapping back on his stomach. The tip is a reddened shade darker, a trace of precum already oozing out of it, dripping down his length and making you rub your thighs for some sort of relief as you feel your mouth watering. You want to reach for it, grasp it as you feel it throb on your palm. You want to trace the prominent veins adorning it with your tongue and discover all the sounds he makes when he’s all but begging for you to wrap you mouth around it already. But more than anything, and what speaks louder to you at the moment, is how you want to feel it deep in your belly, rubbing against your walls until your legs shake.

“My eyes are up here, love.” You look up at him, a smug grin on his face as he draws you in by your hips.

“Can’t help it.” You watch his fingers play with the waistband of your cherry colored underwear, meeting his eyes as you let yourself mess with him a bit. “Just have such a beautiful cock.”

“Christ.” He groans, yanking your panties down your leg, making your arousal drip down your thighs. His lips immediately trace on your pubic bone, hands travelling to grip on your ass as his teeth sink into your skin slowly. “Didn’t know you were this filthy, bunny.”

You enlace your fingers on his strands, pushing his fringe away from his forehead as you mount him again. “Only for you.”

“All for me? What did I do to deserve you?” He smiles, pecking your lips and pulling your closer so you can feel his cock poking at your stomach. “Why don’t you lie down for me?”

You shake your head, pushing his shoulders back gently until his back hits the mattress. “You lie down.”

“Shit, baby, gonna sit on my cock?” He shifts back just slightly, watching you sit back on his thigh as you grab his length, giving it an experimental pump that makes his breath audibly hitch. “Fuck-- such a good girl, aren’t ya?”

You chew on your bottom lip, flickering your palm over the tip and collecting a bit of the precum before rubbing it once more. He lets out a strangled moan, head tilting back on the mattress, his curls splattered around him like a halo. Which is an ironical contrast to what you’re doing to him.

His voice comes out in a breathy, chest moving frantically as he peeks down at you when you give him another slow pump. “Please, darling, don’t torture me right now, need you so bad.”

If it were another occasion you wouldn’t listen to him, simply continuing your teasing as if he hadn’t said anything at all. But right now you can feel your wetness pooling where you sit on his thigh as you all but throb for him at the sight of his angry cock in your hand. It’s just as much torture to you as it is to him to keep this going any longer, so you just shift up, gabbing his base and rubbing it along your folds one, two, three times, before finally aligning it with your entrance.

His nails dig on your thighs in anticipation, his eyes watching with barely a blink as you slowly sink down. Your mouth hangs open but nothing except a choked gasp comes out of it. There’s a delicious burn that comes with him slowly spreading you open for him, and when you fully sit down your eyes are teary and can’t help but clench around him, earning a full moan in response.

“So fucking tight.” He pants, chest moving up as he takes a sharp inhale when you clench again. “So wet too, baby, drenching me.”

“Fuck, Harry.” You lean forward, hands lying on each side of his torso as you pull up the tiniest bit just to sink down again.

You want to start slow, gradually fastening your pace but you can’t seem to hold yourself back. As his hands grasp on your hips you start to bounce on him at a hard pace, your moans meshing together as well as the faint vocals blasting outside the closed door. Rolling your hips on his, he hits spot that makes you sit on your heels again as you throw your head back, crying out his name.

It’s hard to keep focus as you mind is blurry from the pleasure that takes over every cell of your body as well as the alcohol still running freely on your bloodstream. All you can focus on right now is Harry. It’s his hands gripping on your skin, helping you fasten your pace. It’s the sound of his voice pitching on a needy whimper, telling you how good you feel around him. It’s the sight of his face creased in pleasure when you look down at him, the veins staining his neck and his locks sticking to his damp forehead, cheeks rosy and lips plump. He’s the only thing in your mind as you chant his name under your breath like a quiet prayer.

“Is my cock that good, bunny?” He meets your thrusts with his hips, making you sob out a moan. His lips tug on a smirk, “Look at you helping you helping yourself out on my cock -- fuck, look like a proper dream.”

There’s a familiar tightness in your stomach, one that makes your toes curl and your rhythm falters. “I’m almost there, shit.”

“Won’t last much longer too, baby, feel too good.” He groans holding your hips in place when you stumble on your pace again, deciding to thrust upwards, your pelvis meeting in loud smacks. “Gonna cum for me? Gonna let me see you looking all pretty when you cum all over my cock?”

“Harry, please.” You’re not even sure what you’re asking for, your eyes closing as you roll back your head. A trifling cramp is starting to set on the back of your thighs but you barely pay any mind to it as the bliss takes over your whole body. You’re so close to your high you can almost reach it, just needing a small push.

“C’mon, baby.” Harry urges you, hand reaching where you’re connected to rub at your clit harshly.

And that’s all you needed, opening your eyes as a couple tears fall down your face when you feel your orgasm taking over you body, the white ceiling feeling far away like an imagine you watch on the television. You’re not exactly sure when Killer Queen started playing, but as the waves of euphoria hit your body, you can hear the guitar solo ringing in your ears, the crescendo of the song only enhancing the thrill of your high as you ride your orgasm along with it.

You practically collapse down on his chest, his hot skin sticking to your body. He’s still panting under you, warm breath hitting your neck as he holds onto your ass, his thrusts coming sloppier as he comes right after you. The sensitivity of your center makes you whine along with his strangled moans when he holds his hips to yours,burying himself in you as he paints your walls white.

For a moment you just stay like this, cheek resting on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat slowing down by the minute blending with the music coming from outside the closed door. His fingertips trace patterns on your bare arm that’s hugging his torso and keeping him close. You can feel your mind getting clearer, not just from the alcohol but from the high of your orgasm. And as the sound of the soft wind knocks against the window glass, you’re almost lulled to sleep just like this.

Harry shifts slightly, you feel his lips pressing on your head before he carefully moves to sit up, letting you fall back on the bed gently. “Mind if I have a smoke, bunny?”

You give him a lazy smile, shaking your head as you look up at him, reaching for his locks that poke wildly on his head. Leaning down, he gives you a quick peck before getting up. Turning to your side, you watch as he looks around the room, finding his briefs thrown by the end of the bed and quickly putting them back on. He grabs the pack of cigarettes along with his lighter and heads towards the window.

Opening up the window, allowing the evening breeze to slip through the crack and dance around the room, he pulls a chair leaning on the wall to sit directly by it. The chair is stacked with colored cushions on top of it - one yellow, one red, and one blue - he throws two of them thoughtlessly on the floor next to it, adjusting the remaining one on his back as he leans down to sit on it. The stool is low enough so he can relax his feet on it comfortably, fingers fiddling with the lighter for a second before rising it to meet the end of the cigarette resting between his lips. Freddie Mercury still sings loudly in the living room, the sound coming a bit muffled thanks to the closed door, but making it as background noise as you come quiet to admire his figure against the last creeks of sunlight hitting the side of his profile.

You chew on your lip at the scene, wishing you could record it somehow and play it every night before falling asleep. There’s something inherently erotic about having him smoke a cigar just on his underwear, humming along to the tune of the song, right after having you scream his name into his pillow.

The light streak of wind coming from the window breaks you out of your thoughts, making goosebumps rise on your skin as you come to the realization that you’re still sitting naked in his bed. It doesn’t take long for you to find your panties hanging from the edge of the mattress, picking them up to quickly slide them up your legs before you get up to search for your other articles of clothing. You can see the colorful pattern of your playsuit lying next to the closed door, but as you crouch to pick it up something else catches your attention in the pile of clothes thrown around mindlessly on top of a wooden chest

It’s the pink shirt. The same one he wore on the day you first saw him play.

A grin takes over your face as you pick it up, throwing it over your shoulders and sliding your hand on the sleeves. It has the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering smell of cigarettes, something you’ve come to associate with him. You don’t bother to button up the material, letting it hug your body as you take a quick look at yourself in the full-body mirror leaning on the wall in front of you. You turn to him, his eyes still focused on the view outside, a thin coat of smoke leaving his lips and getting lost in the breeze, so you clear your throat as to get his attention.

He looks at you, eyes shamelessly scanning down your body and you’re afraid the cig will fall from his lips as they grow on a smug smirk.

“Look at you,” he lets his feet fall from the stool, fixing them on the floor as he motions for you to get close. You approach him without a second thought, climbing on his lap as his hands hold onto your hips. He takes another look at you, grasping the cigarette with his fingers and taking out of his lips. Reaching for your face, his thumb caresses the side of your eyelid gently. “Looking like a proper rockstar now, even got the smudged makeup.”

You giggle. “That’s more your fault than mine.”

“I guess it is.” He taps the butt of the cig on an ashtray prompted on the stool of the window, eyes still trained on you. “Should do it more often then, s’fucking hot.”

You smile at the connotation, picking at the hem of the shirt and gazing at him from under your lashes. “Guess I might be starting to like pink, that’s also your fault.”

“Look way too good in pink not to like it, bunny.”

“Stop that.” You hide your face on the crook of his shoulder.

“Telling the truth.” His free hand grips on your waist, pulling you closer as he tilts his head to kiss at your neck. “Looks good in everything.”

“Could tell you the same thing.” You pull back to look at him, teeth sinking on your bottom lip as you smooth your hands down his bare chest. “But I do prefer this fit on you, really brings out your eyes.”

“Naughty.”

You lean to connect your lips, hugging him close with your arms wrapped around his neck and enjoying the tender moment as you distribute kisses around his face just to hear him giggle. And when you bring your mouth to his again, you barely feel the softness of his lips before he all but jumps on his skin. You pull back, furrowing your brows, ready to question it but he beats you. “Forgot I got something for you.”

“For me?” You blink. “What is it?”

“Go sit on the bed while I fetch, will be just a minute.” He gives you a quick peck before you’re pulling away.

You do as he asks, sitting back on the bed, right next to the wrinkled spot where you lied just minutes ago. He walks across the room, opening the door where you came from and disappearing in the hallway. The record is still blasting through the apartment walls, sound coming louder now that there’s no barrier between you.

While he’s gone, you take a moment to look around his room, something you didn’t get a chance to do when you first came in tangled on his arms. It’s not much messier than the living room, really, only the small piles of clothes you’ve spotted earlier that give the illusion of an untidy room. There’s a light wooden dresser that sits next to the chest, and from where you sit you can see two candles standing alone on top of it, similar to the ones on the piano.

You swing your feet on the edge of the bed, letting them brush along a blue fluffy mat that hugs the floor underneath it. And as you run your hands on along his mattress, you notice the soft superficie, making you look down at a knitted blanket spreaded across the bed. It’s made of different colored squared stuck together in an oddly comforting pattern. You want to lie down on it, and let yourself be swallowed by the cozyness of the material against your skin, but before you can do so, Harry appears back in the room, closing the door behind him as he makes his way to you.

“This blanket is so nice.” You run your hands through it, smiling at him.

“Thanks, I knitted it.” The information makes your eyes bulge out, you open your mouth to inquire further but he’s already talking again. “This is-- uhm, I dunno, just something I thought you’d like it.”

The small box in his hand catches your attention as he hands it to you, his eyes looking down at it and even with just the moonlight illuminating the room you can see the blush on his cheeks. He props himself down on the spot next to you, watching your fingers turn the rectangular box around. It’s a cassette tape case, you quickly realize.

When you gaze at the back of it, there’s names of songs scribbled behind it. Not many, but a good collection of them, from Fleetwood Mac to The Bangles, and even Billy Joel. And it doesn’t take you long to find a pattern with the song chosen for the tape. Their all love songs. It makes your heart swell even more, if that’s even possible at this point.

“These are so cheesy,” you bite your lip, barely able to contain your smile.

He rolls his eyes. “They’re romantic, bunny.”

You keep examining the titles written neatly in his handwriting, raising your brows when you land on a specific one. “Every breath you take?” You tease, “That’s an interesting take on romance.”

“Shut up.” He giggles, eyes watching you carefully. “Do you like it?” His voice is adorably hesitant, it makes your heart stumble on a beat.

“I love it.” You say in just above a whisper, feeling the butterflies in your stomach get a little more vivid once your eyes land on the last song scribbled in the back of the tape. Somebody to Love. Brushing your thumb over the words softly, careful not to smudge the paint, you look up at him to find his green irises glistening at you. You shake your head almost in disbelief at the tenderness behind the gift. “Did you record this just for me?”

“Uhm yeah some of them I did but—” He looks down, focusing on his fingers as they pick a loose string from the blanket under his leg. “Some of them I just... Sang”

“You sang?” It takes you by surprise, how you thought there was no way he could make you feel warmer.

“Yeah… All of them, actually.” His dimples dig deep on his cheeks as he quickly peeks his eyes at you. “It’s just… The quality is shit when you record it from the radio and the dj keeps interrupting and stuff.” He shrugs, “Thought if I sang it could be more, personal? I guess.”

“I love it.” You repeat.

“You do?”

“I do.” You chew on your lip, watching his eyes glimmering on the dim light of the room. “Is there a reason for this sudden present?”

“Kind of I--” He clears his throat, fully glancing at you. There’s an expectation behind his eyes, you can tell from the way he takes a sharp inhale that he’s nervous. “Thought I make you-- ask you, actually, if you’d be mine?”

You can’t help but giggle at how adorable he looks, your eyes getting a bit glossy as you nod without a blink of a thought. “Of course I’m yours, Harry.”

“Yeah?” His smile grows. “As like, m’girlfriend?”

Throwing your arms around him, you press your lips against his cheek, careful not to drop the tape in your hand still. You pull back, tilting your head as giving him a fond smile. “As in your girlfriend, yes.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #80s!harry #harry styles writing

2K notes · View notes