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thecockerelinn · 4 years

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Well, even though quarantine and lockdown may slowly open up for many of us, it’s not over yet, and besides one can never have enough means to escape reality, so here are a few book reccomendations.

All books on this list are LGBTQ or at least have (important) characters who are.

The “Classics”:

Wraeththu - Storm Constantine (how is it no-one’s talking about this anymore? Please do take into account that those books were written in the early 1990s, they were way ahead of their times, and yet there may be some offensive things - it’s been a while that I’ve read them so I can’t come up with any example, but should you find them somewhat un-feminist, wait until the end xD)

The Left Hand of Darkness - Ursula K. Le Guin (a true classic)

The Last Herald Mage series - Mercedes Lackey (gee yes Vanyel can be a real brat - not quite without reason though, but you’ll come to love him xD And yes we all just pretend that scene in book 3 never happened -_-) (also: influenced the Nightrunner series)

The World of Riverside series - Ellen Kushner (another influence on the Nightrunner series)

The Doctrine of Labyrinths quartet - Sarah Monette (beware, those books are not for everyone, trigger warnings are in order: rape, violence, mental issues, abuse / none of this is ever glorified or belittled, but it’s there, and it is so much a part of the characters’ lifes that it might occasionally seem like it’s not appropriately treated. Speaking of characters: very complex, intriguing characters with very dark sides, but you gotta love ‘em; intricate, complex world building / Nowadays Sarah Monette writes under the pseudonym Katherine Addison) (as far as I know they are unfortunately out of print so you’d have to check second hand book stores)

Historical fiction (with or without the paranormal)

Whyborne and Griffin series - Jordan L. Hawk (lots of paranormal stuff, magic, Lovecraftian creatures, awesome ladies, and so much more - and you will love those boys so much xD)

Magic in Manhattan - Allie Therin (the Roaring 20s, magic, prohibition)

The Collin Pendragon Mysteries - Gregory Harris (imagine Sherlock Holmes and Watson were canon; whodunnit, Victorian England)

Restless Spirits - Jordan L. Hawk (let’s go ghost hunting: science vs. medium)

A Charm of Magpies - K.J. Charles (magpies - lots of them xP, magic, curses, intrigue, late Victorian England)

At Swim, Two Boys - Jamie O’Neill (set in Dublin around the Easter Uprising 1916; coming-of-age, tragic love story - don’t forget the tissues)

Cambridge Fellows Mysteries - Charlie Cochrane (Edwardian England, mystery, romance; amateur sleuths, found family)

SFF

The Priory of the Orange Tree - Samantha Shannon (epic fantasy, intricate world building, clash of religions, dragons, strong female leads)

The Affair of the Mysterious Letter - Alexis Hall (fantasy / mystery; Lovecraftian vibes, bizarre and witty retelling of Sherlock Holmes)

The Tarot Sequence - K.D. Edwards (alternative world, Atlantis, magic, god-like beings, found family; trigger warnings: mentions of rape, violence)

The Rifter series - Ginn Hale (fantasy, parallel world; god-like being, magic, religious strife, necromancy (in a way))

Iron Breakers trilogy - Zaya Feli (fantasy; intrigue, cultural differences, battles, fight for a kingdom, romance)

The Icefjord Saga - Zaya Feli (fantasy, Norse inspired world, magic, mythological creatures, battles, curses)

Tales from Verania - TJ Klune (fantasy, comedy, romance; hilariousness galore! - okay sometimes it’s a bit too much, but between all the jokes and sexual innuendoes, the story doesn’t suffer; basically everyone is gay, everyone tries to get into Sam’s trousers ^^;, did I mention the hornless gay unicorn that sweats glitter, and the sexually deviant dragon? xD)

Peter Darling - Austin Chant (fantasy, retelling; very interesting take on Peter Pan, takes place many years after the events in Peter Pan, focused on the relationship between Peter and Hook; the search for a place, for someone to accept you for who you really are)

YA and New Adult

Nevernight Chronicles - Jay Christoff (sometimes I’m amazed what’s YA nowadays; fantasy; anyway beware of all the blood)

Feverwake duology - Victoria Lee (see above; dystopia; Holy Baby Yoda but these two books are intense! triger warnings: abuse, drug use, violence, mentions of rape, deadly virus outbreak)

Only Mostly Devastated - Sophie Gonzales (contemporary; all the feels: it makes you laugh out loud, it makes you cry; Grease says hello, super sweet quick read)

Timekeeper trilogy - Tara Sim (steampunk - or should it be clockwork punk?; mythology, gods, concept of time, ghosts, cute boys, discourse on colonialism)

The Torch Keeper trilogy - Steven dos Santos (dystopia; betrayal, love between brothers, biological modifications, deadly deadly trials)

Proxy duology - Alex London (dystopia; the rift between rich and poor, unjust society, technology)

The Disasters - M.K. England (sci-fi; band of misfits to the rescue!; Breakfast Club in space - kind of xD)

Magnus Chase & the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan (fantasy, mythology; ahhh Uncle Rick - just got to love the man, seriously; Norse mythology, diverse cast, homelesness, found family, disablitiy) (I’m aware it’s officially labelled Middle Grade, but who cares. It is linked to the Percy Jackson series, but you don’t need to know it to read these books)

The TBR pile (meaning books I haven’t read myself yet, but they certainly are on my tbr list, so perhaps they will be on yours now, too):

The Locked Tomb series - Tamsyn Muir (fantasy)

The Bloodright trilogy - Emily Skrutskie (sci-fi, YA)

Wild Sky - Zaya Feli (fantasy)

The Extraordinaries - TJ Klune (romance, superpowers - or not..., YA)

Reverie - Ryan La Sala (fantasy)

Soulbound series - Hailey Turner (urban fantasy, romance)

Cemetery Boys - Aiden Thomas (fantasy, paranormal, romance, YA)

Micah Grey series - Laura Lam (fantasy)

Specials:

A Song for Ghosts - Manja Siber (historical, mid 19th century Dresden) - Don your fanciest dress and fetch the binocular, it’s opera time! Originally inspired by The Phantom of the Opera and Yuri on Ice - see if you can spot the hints xD (as a fellow Watcher, Manja kind of makes the list by default* xP Give it a try, you can find it via epubli or on amazon.de)

*No, this isn’t nepotism, I’m just trying to give the support I wish I had. So if you’re an author and a Watcher and you’re not on this list, it’s because I don’t know about it. Tell me, and I gladly put your book on this or any next rec list.

#Book Recommendations #book rec #that should be enough for now #I'm pretty sure if I spend more time on it I would come up with more but let's keep those for another time #I tried to stick to books that i have not seen a hundred times on other lists already #nightrunner series #Lynn Flewelling #Watchers Reading List

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 5 years

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A Met Gala one-shot

somewhere, someone in the world wanted to kill us for leaving these clothes on the floor of a college recreation facility.

4.5k of flirty, well-dressed, smut

***

Okay, so maybe I did feel a little bit out of my element. I mean, style was never my thing. Fashion was never my thing. That’s why, after 6 years of really trying to make it, I was selling music--not the hottest trends.

“You’re going to be fine,” Jenna said behind me, her smile big and bright as I stared out the window as the car rolled to a stop.

The weather was beautiful--and I was lucky. Early May in New York City didn’t exactly always lend itself to warmth and sun. And the feathery, pink dress/cape combo I was wearing didn’t exactly lend itself to the most confidence.

I knew the drill. Jenna and Britney had run through things twice already in the short ride from the hotel. I’d get out, wait in line, walk the carpet, greet the co-chairs, head inside. I’d eat some food, mingle with some people, and enjoy the night.

I knew a few people who’d be there. Sophie Turner, Zendaya, even Hailey Baldwin (Bieber? Still not clear on that.) So I’d be fine. I’d be nice and social and it would be fine. That’s what I kept repeating to myself as I heard the door on the other side of the car open and shut quickly.

Britney, my amazing manager and time-keeper for all things Met Gala, seemed to be opening my door before I could even process it. There were chirps of excitement from people gathered nearby, but no camera flashes yet--which was appreciated.

I’d walked red carpets before. In fact, I tripped and caught myself on Saiorse Ronan’s shoulder only six months earlier--so I figured tonight couldn’t be that bad. I stepped out, gaining more noise from the fans who’d gathered to catch glimpses, but I didn’t expect for some screams to break out the way they had.

I was new, after all. My debut album had dropped in the fall, I was still in the middle of my first headlining tour. I wasn’t exactly A-list yet. I was surprised when I even got the invitation in the first place.

And when Moschino offered to dress me, I was even more surprised that I was popping up on people’s radars. And not just people--fashion people.

“Stella Mayfield--walking,” I heard a voice next to me, a woman in a black gown was apparently communicating with whoever (and whatever) was inside the giant tent opening straight ahead. Jenna could sense my nerves--she reached over to rub my shoulder and offer a smile. Thank god I had the two of them, plus Danny, my one and only security guard.

Danny’s job was more of a precaution, I think. I’d yet to be in a situation where people were really rowdy or wild. I mean, there’d be fans gathered outside my hotel on tour and people outside of the venues. But I’d never seen Danny had to launch into action. I mean, I’d never been mobbed or anything.

So I had a buffer. I had Britney and Jenna and Danny all night. We could leave when we pleased, I reminded them. Which I think was more of an out for me if I got too nervous or overwhelmed by all of the fancy clothes and money in one room.

We waited in line, I watched as the photographers and reporters on the side of the big steps would scream people’s names, hoping to get a glimpse or a wave or an answer to a question.

Soon enough, the woman in black--who’d escorted us all the way in--spoke my name into her walkie-talkie and gave me a shove forward. So much for a warning.

I smiled immediately, thankful that people seemed to know who I was (and care), and I posed at the bottom of the stairs for the group of photographers who seemed to be giving me the nicest directions.

“Can you turn this way, Stella?”

“It’s great to see you, Stella, are you excited to be here?”

I chose the woman with the short blonde hair to talk with--she seemed the most approachable and most interested in actually hearing from me. I told her that yes, I was excited to be here, no, I wasn’t bringing a date. Yes, I was dressed in Moschino, and no, I wouldn’t be leaving with anyone.

I did my best to make eye contact with a few of them, Britney had always given that advice for big events like these. She said that when you’re trying to still make a name for yourself, it was good to give answers and be friendly and make them write about you.

I was pulled up the steps, though, by Britney, who gave me some easy directions to pose in two different spots on the stairs. And soon, when I neared the top, I saw the co-chairs--undoubtedly, the people I was most nervous to see.

It wasn’t that they were worlds more famous than me (that didn’t help), it was more that they were the ones who ultimately decided who got to come. Anna Wintour approved the invite list and somehow, I’d been cool enough to not get cut.

My heartbeat was steadily rising, and when I met the final step, Lady Gaga gave me the biggest smile I’d ever been greeted with.

“Stella!” She beamed at me, opening her arms wide to give me a hug. Jenna, Britney, and Danny seemed to stay back. “I’m so glad you’re here! We were so hoping you’d come!”

“It’s so nice to meet you!” I smiled, letting her embrace me. Someone--who I didn’t recognize--was in front of me and schmoozing with Serena Williams. “Thank you so much for having me.”

“Are you kidding me?” She pulled back, apparently surprised by my graciousness. “You’re the hottest thing right now, live it up! It can be weird, I know. Big event, big names. Enjoy yourself tonight. You’re a star!”

I was shocked, really--not just by her beauty and her gown and her niceness, but by the fact that she seemed to say exactly what I needed to hear.

“Darling, so good to meet you,” Anna Wintour greeted me, reaching a hand forward to tug at my long brown hair. “Absolutely love your gown!”

I was getting pushed along--the line behind me was apparently longer than I’d realized and people were eager to get inside. Serena Williams and Alessandro Michele seemed to be caught up with someone (extravagant makeup and a blonde wig made it hard to tell who it was), so I looked up at Britney, who gave me a shrug when she saw that I was stuck, and I sidestepped the mystery guest.

Harry Styles, clad in a black get up, offered me a small smile and leaned in to hug me, speaking over the crowd as his lips grazed my ear. “Great to meet you, you look beautiful,” he said.

I pulled back slightly, a flush rising on my cheeks as I cursed myself for being starstruck at an event where my main job was to just act like I belonged.

“You do too,” I offered back, immediately wondering if he’d appreciate being called beautiful. Was my 24-year-old girl showing too much? He smiled back and I moved on. We’d met in passing once before, I knew Niall a little bit better after writing a song with him in 2018, but we’d never actually spoken.

“Your album is amazing, it’s seriously been the soundtrack to my life lately. Listen to it all the time, really,” he nodded, his eyes sweeping over my face.

“Seriously? I’m so flattered, thank you!”

He pulled his eyes away from me then, smiling at the person behind me, who clearly wasn’t appreciative of my loitering. A pang of disappointment washed over me, but he brought his eyes back down. “We’ll talk later, yeah? Find me inside, or I’ll find you!”

“Sure, yeah!” I nodded, getting shoved away from him by the moving line before I could even give him another hug.

I let out a breath, happy to have more space from other bodies and thankful for the fact that Jenna, Britney, and Danny were once again by my side.

“You did it,” Britney smiled, clapping her hands together. “Walked your first Met Gala stairs. And you shined,” she said.

The first thing I did inside was get a drink. Not only because I needed one, but also because they were free. Not just your typical open bar free--these were top-shelf, well-made, served with a smile cocktails that had these pretty pink straws that poked out of the top.

Whatever Jenna had ordered for me tasted like lemon. I wasn’t mad.

The dinner was delicious--I was seated with people I barely knew, but I was fine enough once I’d had some liquor and some food. I’d popped by the table in the back--where everyone’s entourage was seated--to visit my three staff and make sure they were fine.

But just as I’d expected, they were more than entertained by the food, the drink, and the company. So when I walked back to my seat and spotted Harry incredibly close to my table, I sipped the end of my drink (strong, not well mixed at the bottom), and took a deep breath.

“Hi,” I said quickly, offering him a smile as he pulled his eyes from his current conversation partner and brought them to meet mine. In a typical situation, I’d feel sorry for interrupting and might have even avoided it altogether, but something pulled me towards talking to Harry again.

Maybe because he was the only person (aside from Lady Gaga) who’d made me feel completely comfortable all night.

He said his goodbyes to the man in the red suit before opening his arms to hug me again. “You’re alive still!”

“I am!” I laughed a little, mainly because I was surprised I’d lasted this long. Parties (especially with this many famous people) were exhausting. I wasn’t sure if he’d had four redbulls already or was just filled with adrenaline, but he seemed awake and excited and like he was having the time of his life.

“Me too, I’m also alive, which is good.” He nodded seriously, stepped a bit closer to me to let someone pass by us.

The lights were dim--we were in the strange space between dinner and dessert. There were dancers on stage and music that played along to their movements, but the entertainment hadn’t yet truly started.

“You must be exhausted,” I said, extremely aware of the fact that his arm brushed against mine.

He let out a laugh and shrugged his shoulders. “Long day, but it’s fine. I can sleep tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I asked, pulling my head back in confusion. I was under the impression that I’d be home and in bed by 1am. At least, that was the limit I’d subconsciously set for myself.

“There’s a few after parties,” he nodded. “I’m hosting one with Gucci at The Fleur Room. You’ll have to come!”

I felt stupid for a second, stupid for not realizing that of course there’d be after parties and of course I should go. I mean, in all honesty, this was work. I needed to mingle and network and meet celebrities and get my name out there.

“Right,” I said, trying to play it cool. “Of course, I’d love to!”

“I’d love to see you there,” he said, letting his eyes pause on mine for a second longer than usual. “Your album is seriously amazing. Where’d you record?”

“Mostly L.A.,” I said. “I’ve been working a lot with Ricky Reeves, he produced most of it.”

“You did a song with Tom Hull, too, right? He did a song on my album!”

“I did!” I smiled, I’d completely forgotten that we had that in common. Tom Hull--Kid Harpoon--had worked with a slew of amazing artists. When he reached out and asked if I wanted to work on something with him, I was touched.

“He’s a genius,” Harry said simply. “Total genius with lyrics.”

“I know--I swear to God the song we wrote took us like ten minutes and it’s one of my favorites.”

“Try For It, right?”

I nodded--trying to mask my excitement that he knew the name of my song. I knew he’d said he liked my album, but everyone says that when you release your first major-label project. A part of me wondered if he’d really been listening to it as much as he said.

“I have to say, though, I think Break Me is my favorite.”

I laughed, once again completely flattered that not only did he know my album, but apparently, he had favorites. I leaned up to speak into his ear--the music was louder and people were cheering for the dancers on stage. “It’s my favorite, too, but don’t tell anyone. Kinda ruins the whole songwriter I love all of my songs equally thing.”

Around 11pm I needed a break. I dipped out of the main ballroom and headed down a hallway, thankful that Danny was distracted by Jenna and Britney to give me some space.

My heels on the floor echoed as I walked--I didn’t know where I was headed, but I wasn’t worried about finding my way back. I turned down another hallway, which left me in an empty exhibit room.

But that’s when I heard a laugh.

I peered around some sort of statue (again, music was my thing, not other forms of art), and saw Harry, slumped against a wall with a phone pressed up to his ear.

He looked up and met my eyes, offering a wave as he informed the person on the other end that he had to go. I tried to motion at him that I was sorry for walking in, but he pulled the phone from his ear, pressed a button, and shoved it back in his pocket.

He’d changed--his top was now white and a big, almost goofy looking bow-tie adorned his neck.

“Hi, sorry, I was just,” I motioned back down the hall that I came from. “Trying to get some air.”

He let out a laugh. “My thoughts exactly.”

I was quiet for a second, still feeling guilty for walking in and hoping that he didn’t think I’d purposely followed him back here. But he spoke again before I could voice any of those thoughts.

“This is your first Met Gala, right?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, but I didn’t say more. I could tell he was thinking.

“Mine too--pretty busy. That was my mum, asking if it was going alright. She just woke up back home.”

He kept his eyes focused on something past me--I could tell he was thinking more to himself than he was saying out loud.

“Were you nervous for today?” I asked suddenly, my voice still quiet so as to not echo throughout the room.

He brought his eyes back to me at this and a grin overtook his face. “Are you kidding? I was practically in the fetal position before the carpet.”

“Are you serious?” I laughed in response. “You seem so,” I searched for the right words. “Put together and calm and used to it.” I didn’t mention that he looked so attractive, was so talented, and I was practically on cloud nine due to the amount of conversing we’d done.

“You’ll get used to it,” he nodded, his smile smaller now but just as genuine. He gave me a look as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

Am I cut out for this type of stuff?

“I’m somewhat used to it,” he said slowly, but he looked down at his high waisted pants. “Still getting used to this type of thing, though,” he plucked at the waistband, his eyebrows furrowed together to get a laugh out of me.

“I’ll get used to it,” I nodded my head, appreciative of his humor and his groundedness.

“And until then, you’re doing a great job of faking it.”

I was chatting and laughing and drinking with Alexa Chung in the corner of the big athletic complex when Harry sidled up beside me.

“What’re you drinking?” He asked, leaning in closer to me so I could hear him--once more--over the music. Alexa watched with a smile as I held my drink up to him, offering a taste.

He took it from me, and I watched as his lips pressed against the same place that mine had just been. He scrunched his nose to more accurately judge, and when he handed it back to me, he smiled.

“Whatever it is, I want one, and it looks like you could use another.”

He found me afterwards, two identical drinks in his hands and a smile on his face as he pulled me aside to cheers to a successful night for the two of us. And we drank the drinks together, admittedly faster than we probably planned. And then we had another.

And then I danced beside him as Mark Ronson played different songs and we took stupid selfies with people who popped over to say hello. I’d lost Danny long before--though I assumed I was in his sight--when Britney and Jenna said goodnight. They told me to have fun, enjoy myself, and most of all, don’t end up naked or black out or anything that would end up on the internet tomorrow (this) morning.

But that wasn’t me. I wasn’t that type of person.

“Do you need a break for a minute?” Harry asked, his arm snaking around my waist as I smiled up at Alexa as she said something about Cher’s performance earlier.

I looked up at him quickly, his face was close to mine and his lips brushed against the side of my temple again when he spoke. “I could use a break, is what I should say.”

Alexa seemed to not mind at all, in fact, I could have sworn that she gave him a playful wink as he draped his arm over my shoulder and I started to head away from the commotion.

“A water, a snack, all of it sounds nice,” he laughed, bringing his eyes down to me as we climbed down the stairs from the DJ booth. “And maybe one more of those lemon things.”

“I have no idea what’s in them,” I laughed. “So if we’re ridiculously hungover, don’t blame me.”

“I would never,” he laughed, letting his hip bump into mine somewhat as we made our way for the door.

A man in a suit--not Danny, but who looked like he might have been Harry’s version of Danny--opened the door for us right as we approached, leading us into a hallway with bright yellow chairs that lined the wall. Celebrity guests were seated all along, drinking and chatting and taking obnoxious pictures in their best-attempt at Camp.

It was then that I caught sight of Danny, who said something to the man who’d been holding the door open, and gave me a subtle wave as Harry withdrew his arm from around my shoulders.

I waved to Joe Jonas (who seemed to smile when he saw me) and felt, for the first time all night, like I actually was starting to belong.

“Still a little crowded,” he said, looking each direction down the hall. One way was towards the entrance--cocktail tables lined with flashy tablecloths and extraordinary floral arrangements. He looked to his right, nodded his head in that direction, and then looked down at me again.

He walked away from me, and I turned back to give Danny some kind of please don’t follow me look before falling into step beside him.

“What’s down here?” I asked, a laugh escaping my lips as we headed farther down the dark hallway.

“No idea,” he shook his head, a smile on his face as he licked his lips. “But somewhere to sit and take this bow-tie off and just talk for a second would be nice.”

And so we found a room that had a desk and a blackboard and Harry decided to write our names in chalk in big, obnoxious, somewhat drunk handwriting.

He sat on the desk then, loosened his bow-tie, and smirked. “It’s been nice to get to know you tonight.”

I smiled, hoping that if my cheeks looked red, I could blame it on the alcohol. “Thanks for making me feel so welcome,” I said.

He smiled, holding the red fabric in his hands. “I should say the same--I was definitely freaked out to be here and be co-chairing, but I would say it’s been successful.”

“Me too,” I nodded assuredly, thankful that I’d long turned in my feathery pink ensemble for a gold and shimmery gown--one that showed just enough cleavage and was markedly more convenient to dance in.

I wouldn’t have done what I did next if he didn’t look up at me with an innocent--yet somehow completely daring--smile. In two steps, I was stood between his legs, my hands on his face, and my lips against his.

And in half a second, his hands were around my waist, pulling me closer to him. We stayed like that for a minute, but soon he stood, stepped me backwards, and flipped our positions. Now I was against the desk, he worked one hand at the back zipper of my dress, and my hands were fiddling with the buttons of his shirt.

My thoughts were racing and my pulse was too. He deepened the kiss and I shrugged out of the top of my dress. When I felt the fabric of his shirt against my chest, I was reminded, ever so timely, that I’d opted to be braless all night.

Harry didn’t seem to mind, however, because soon his hand was around my breast. I made a noise when we connected, which must have turned him on even more, because he suddenly started working at removing his own shirt to be less fabric between us.

His lips were warm and soft and something about the possibility of being walked in on made me terrified and excited all at once. He made me nervous and unsure and hyperaware, but he also made me feel comfortable and like I fit in.

I kissed him harder--thankful for the fact that he seemed to be handling his pants on his own. They looked extremely difficult to get on, so getting them off was sure to be quite the task. I tried not to worry, though, and it didn’t take much to distract me because he pulled away from me for a second.

“You’ve looked beautiful all night and this is not normally what I do,” he said, his brows dipped inward as he tried to explain himself.

In all honesty, I wasn’t really worried and I wasn’t even thinking about how many times he’d done this before. But now I was.

He must have seen the look on my face, because he moved his head to get a better look at my face. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“No,” I said, probably too quickly. “It’s fine--I just, I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

He let out a laugh, his eyes scanning over my face once more. “I’d be so honored,” he teased.

He kissed me again, this time, his hands were searching my body, searching for skin and searching for connection. I let them wander, finding the hem of my dress before pulling it away from my skin. I pulled my mouth away from his for a second--a dip in his brows told me he didn’t appreciate that--to slide his pants down from his hips.

I could feel his erection against me as he worked at the final buttons of his shirt, and I let my hands find it as he kept his lips connected to mine. He let out a sharp exhale at that, making a noise of pleasure as I palmed him over the fabric of his boxer briefs.

He pulled away from me quickly, taking me by the hands to stand me up. His fingers tugged at the fabric of my dress--somewhere, someone in the world wanted to kill us for leaving these clothes on the floor of a college recreation facility.

I didn’t have much time to think about that, though, because after Harry shed his shoes and his undershirt, he picked me up and set me back on the table, nodding his head in direction to lay back.

His mouth was against me in seconds, his fingers pulling away the thin strap of my thong as his tongue worked against my center. It was jarring, really--not just because of the sensation, but because of how quick he had my back arched and his name floating from my lips.

He seemed to like that, though, as he inserted two fingers to pump in and out of me while his tongue drew abstract circles.

“Yeah, baby?” his voice was deep and throaty. “Feel good?”

I let out a moan once more, reaching a hand down to grab at his hair, keeping his tongue pressed against me. He let out a cheeky laugh, my dependence on him seemed to feed his ego.

I let my own hand wander to my chest, playing with my own nipple. When he saw this, he muttered under his breath. “Shit, Stella.”

He pulled away quickly, pulling his boxers down to reveal what I’d been waiting for. I sat up on the desk, scooching closer to the edge to give him better access. He held his own hand around his shaft, and he smiled up at me before letting his tip enter slowly.

He immediately let out a moan, his hands reaching around to make contact with my butt--pulling me closer to the edge so he could go deeper inside of me.

“Fuck, Stella, you’re so wet for me,” he breathed into my ear.

Maybe it was the fact that we were in some sort of athletic office--maybe it was the fact that I could get in so much trouble for this. But whatever it was made it even more sensual to feel his cock up against my clit as he moaned in my ear.

“As soon as we got here I knew I wanted my night to end with you,” he said--which struck me as sweet and incredibly sexy at the same time.

I reached my arms up to his neck, holding him close to me as he rocked in and out. “You feel so good,” I told him.

“Yeah?” He said, a smirk on his face again as he leaned in to press a kiss to my lips. “You’re so fucking tight, baby.”

He started to go faster, his hands still keeping my butt close enough that he could hit the right angle. “I want to fucking fill you up, Stella,” he said, his voice lower and deeper than before. “You feel so fucking good all around me.”

“Fuck me, then, Harry,” I told him, and the direction seemed to get him even more excited. He pumped faster, the desk beneath us started to squeak, which caused laughter on both parts, and soon, he moaned into my ear as I felt him come inside of me.

He kissed me again, deep and genuine, and then pulled away and laughed. “Fucking someone in a school office where we might get caught. That’s pretty camp.”

#harry styles #harry styles met gala #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles drabble

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hellyeahrihannafenty · 7 years

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On the scene: Rihanna Holds Court, Eats Chinese Food at Her Celebrity-Studded Met Gala After-Party

If the Met Gala is a sort of prom for celebrities—dress for the theme, prepare to have your picture taken again and again—Rihanna’s after-party at 1 Oak late Monday night was, well, the prom after-party. Formal dresses could be traded out for T-shirts; good behavior could be traded out for . . . less good behavior.

Rihanna made her arrival at the soiree at about 1 A.M. to The Notorious B.I.G.’s “Big Poppa,” wearing oversize sunglasses and a white jacket cinched with a green belt (definitely a more club-friendly look than the ornate Comme de Garcons work of art she had worn to the gala itself). She was promptly escorted to a private seating area, where she stationed herself and remained for the rest of the night. When you’re Rihanna, you can station yourself: everyone else comes to you. Fashion icon and pop supernova that she is, Rihanna has become a Met Gala focal point in recent years—often one of the last to arrive on the red carpet, and sure to dominate the conversation whenever she does. Over the course of the few hours she held court at the party, she engaged in the sort of activity you would hope a Rihanna would: she sipped shots, she smoked, she ate what appeared to be Chinese food out of a carton. Everyone from Tracee Ellis Ross to Jaden Smith to Nick Jonas made their way over to pay their respects. For the most part—though she was seen solemnly texting at a few points (Rihannas can get lonely too)—she seemed to thoroughly be enjoying herself.

Madonna arrived shortly after the hostess and said hello—the two posed for a photo—and then sidled up next to designer Jeremy Scott, one banquette away. Following their photo op, there was about 30 minutes during which Madonna and Rihanna were seated about 20 feet away from each other, back to back, in separate seating areas. It was decidedly odd—wouldn’t they have a million things to talk about?—but perhaps the joint force of two stars of that magnitude in conversation would have caused the room to short circuit, Stallone sisters and Snapchat stars fried to a crisp by the voltage. (Rihanna’s stylist, Mel Ottenberg, told Vanity Fair that Rihanna’s Met Ball look had been selected in January, very shortly after the theme was announced. “We wanted something that fit the theme but that was also totally her,” he said.)

One banquette away from Madonna, two apart from Rihanna, a cluster of young stars danced in a large group, tiered in levels on top of each other like a wedding cake. A$AP Rocky (in a puffy orange vest) and Zoe Kravitz stood up against the wall, while Kendall Jenner (rumored A$AP Rocky girlfriend) danced in front of him, next to Luka Sabbat and Alexander Wang. In front of the elder Jenner sister stood Bella Hadid, whom she leaned on occasionally for support (the younger Jenner—Kylie—and the elder Hadid—Gigi—were not present at the party). Kendall—in large hoop earrings—appeared in great spirits, handing out shots and visibly whooping at the beginning of each new song. Across the way from Rihanna’s home base, Diddy reigned, at a banquette with a group including Kerry Washington, Pharrell Williams, and Girls star Jemima Kirke. (Ah, the Met Ball! A night which provides you the visual of Jessa from Girls dancing to Migos, feet from Diddy.)

Snaking around the club were all sorts of celebrity “Oh, right, those two!” pairings. Ah, there’s Victoria’s Secret model Adriana Lima leading Patriot Julian Edelman by the hand. Oh, there’s Game of Thrones star Sophie Turner and former boy bander Joe Jonas enjoying the scenery, somewhat sedately, next to brother Nick. Is that model Hailey Baldwin leaning in close to whisper to rumored boyfriend and fellow young millennial Cameron Dallas? Yes, yes, it is.

As in a high-school cafeteria, various factions congregated under the watch of the queen bee (in this case, Rihanna). Comedians—Aziz Ansari, Nick Kroll, John Mulaney, Donald Glover—huddled around each other in one spot. Models—Lily Aldridge, Joan Smalls—gravitated toward the Jenner-Hadid section. A group of hip British actors—Felicity Jones and Riz Ahmed among them—caught up near the bar. Ansel Elgorts and Alexander Skarsgards popped out of pockets of party-goers like pieces of gum pushed out of a packet. John Legend and Chrissy Teigen—who would have been the main event at such a club on a different night—sat in a completely different section of the venue, far from the dance floor. And, as seems to be the case at any scene-y New York event, the Winklevoss twins always seemed to be within eyesight. At one point, we asked The Crown star Claire Foy, staying near her co-star Matt Smith, what she made of the night’s events. “It’s a bit weird, isn’t it?” she said as she assessed the room, looking up at Rihanna, who was swaying to “Wanna Be a Baller” alongside Mary J. Blige and Cara Delevingne. Indeed, it was.

Hours earlier, at the National Academy Museum, a few blocks from the Met, the evening’s center of attention (other than Rihanna, that is), designer and Met Gala honoree Rei Kawakubo, greeted well-wishers at the official Comme de Garcons after-party (many of them were wearing her Comme de Garcons creations themselves). If the more raucous, downtown scene was the high school caf, this was reminiscent of a college art school party—there were far fewer cell phones foisted in the air, and the music played on the dance floor has not been heard on the radio in the past decade. The notables in the crowd—Evan Rachel Wood with Joseph Altuzarra, Jack Schlossberg with mother Caroline Kennedy—were appropriately chic. One common link between the Comme de Garcons after-party (which was sponsored by Fiji Water and Dom Perignon) and Rihanna’s event, though: Met Gala co-host Pharrell Williams. He was seen winding around the museum’s grandiose staircase shortly before midnight. Several hours later, there he was, downtown, dancing to “Sex with Me,” Rihanna right there.

At about 3 A.M., at 1 Oak, Rihanna was ready to leave, but the party was, improbably, still raging on. Lupita Nyong'o danced with Moonlight’s Ashton Sanders. Zoe Kravitz and Felicity Jones whispered a few feet from Halle Berry. The Olsen twins had just arrived and made their way to a spot toward the back of the room, where they parked themselves with a group of friends and enough cigarettes to last a year on a desert island. At 3:30 A.M., as “Wonderwall” blared throughout the club, both Olsens screamed the lyrics, hands in the air, and it was impossible not to feel nostalgic—you can’t watch the Olsens smoke cigarettes and dance to “Wonderwall” and feel nothing.

At about 3:40 A.M., in what almost seemed like a mirage, Katy Perry arrived, with a few friends. Rihanna had left. Diddy was gone. Kendall and Bella and their crew were off—to a hotel room or smaller venue, no doubt. Katy looked around the thinned-out room briefly and then, expressionless, promptly turned right back around and left. -Vanity Fair

#read the whole thing yall #Rihanna #met gala #poor katy

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