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deepdisireslonging · 11 months ago

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Choices Chapter 8: Under the Gun

Wardlow sends Ricky out on a mission where he won't have back-up. It turns to the worst, and Esther won't take no for an answer. She steals the car to go after Ricky, ending up in hot water herself.

Warnings/Promises: gangster violence, blood, held at gunpoint, Esther in peril

Word Count: 5800

Chapter 7: Secrets and Threats

Sunday, February 24, 1929

Bridgeport Township

The morning broke cold and unyielding. Any native Chicagoan could look up at the sky and know that not a single snowflake would flutter. To the school-stuck children and downtown visitors, this was a travesty. To those who had to walk to and from work, it was a blessing.

Still, the grey light had been enough to wake Esther from her fitful sleep. She didn’t remember slipping into unconsciousness. But she remembered everything from the night before.

Britt Baker dropping the gun into her purse.

Ricky trapped outside of Giovanni’s, still as a statue because of something Adam Cole said.

The tenderness of Ricky’s kiss on her forehead.

Then, the shock of everyone in the parlor, armed to the teeth.

And… and poor Dante Martin.

The shot still rang in her ears as Esther headed down for breakfast. Like the night before, she hugged the wall as she descended. She paused halfway down before she’d be visible by anyone walking through the hallway. Downstairs, the gentle hum of conversation and the clinking of utensils rose to a feverish pitch that echoed in Esther’s mind. Her breath came out fast, and the floor spun beneath her.

“Miss Garnier?”

With a yelp, Esther flattened against the wall. A worried Shawn Spears raised his hands in defense. “Oh. Sorry, Mr. Spears. You startled me.”

His lips twitched with a grin. “So I noticed.” Though he held out his hand for support, Spears was understanding when she didn’t move. “Take all the time you need coming down. We’re all on edge, and I didn’t mean to scare you. Would you like me to leave-”

“No! Actually… please stay.” Esther did her best to even out her breathing. “I don’t know why I can’t seem to get my feet under me. I thought I’d be used to all,” she motioned vaguely before returning her hand to her chest, “all this by now.”

With a warm smile, Spears shrugged. “Considering the warm welcome we gave you last night, I wouldn’t blame you. Walking into a room full of guns will do that to you.” He waited patiently while she caught her breath. “Ready?” Again, he offered his arm.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Esther tensed to hear all of the voices. Including Wardlow’s. Absently, she kneeled as Ares trotted up to her side. She scratched behind his ears while staring into nothing. He bumped his wet nose into the bottom of her chin, bringing her back to the present. Still, she wondered if anyone else had heard the shot that night.

Spears mistook her trepidation. “If you like, I can have Mrs. Anne bring you up a tray-”

“Oh, no. I’ll be alright.” She didn’t move. Even when Ares gruffed at her.

“Miss Garnier,” Spears raised her to her feet, patting her hand. “We’re not going to let anything happen to you. Do you trust us?”

Esther flinched as Joe’s voice joined the fray. “Ye-yes. I trust you.”

She allowed him to lead them into the dinning room. It was filled the same way as last Sunday, spread with a delightful brunch. Like everything was normal. Like someone hadn’t been murdered on the back porch just hours ago. Like they weren’t under attack from an unknown assailant determined to bring down every underworld corporation. Had it really been only yesterday morning when Wardlow had given her and Ricky the day off? She tried not to think. Especially not about how much her life had changed in just twenty-four hours as she took her seat. Ricky removed a plate laid over another to reveal her usual breakfast, still mostly warm. He gave her hand a few squeezes as Wardlow finished his overview of the night before.

“Overall, we didn’t suffer as much as we could have. It’s a small setback. One we’ll recover from. But it’s going to take more time with all the other setbacks of late.”

His gaze lingered over Esther, making her shrink in her seat. While the image of him brandishing the revolver the night before flashed in her mind, she did her best to flash him a smile as proof that she was listening and keeping up. He nodded back.

“With two of us out, the rest of us are going to have to step up. Nobody goes anywhere without backup unless authorized by me or Joe.” He turned to Ricky. “Starks, you have one of those jobs. We’re sending you to Friedman and Co. I apologize for cutting your resting short, but we received some updates. Apparently, there is a physical list of the guys defecting to the Dealer as part of his new crew. Friedman might have a copy.”

Esther covered up her frown by poking at her eggs. She tossed Ares a scramble. Friedman?

With a matching crease in his brow, Ricky lowered his coffee cup with a clatter. “Friedman? Since when his he capable of keeping his mouth shut with such hot intel? And who said anything about a list?”

“Omega, by way of Martin. And Ethan Page was spotted at the attack last night.” Joe turned in his seat, daring Ricky to continue.

Which he did. “Page. Okay. Case solved. Page is part of the Poker Game. Why send me to Friedman country when I could probably pick Page up at one of his haunts and bring him here?” Ricky looked around. “And where is the kid? I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

Esther froze.

At the head of the table, Wardlow and Joe avoided looking at each other.

“After sending you all out,” Joe said, “the two of us will be driving him back to Feathers.”

Wardlow stared Ricky down. “Do you want to be assigned somewhere else? Standing on some cold corner with a crewmate watching for trouble, perhaps?”

“No, no.” Ricky leaned back. “It’s just-” He smiled. “Do you not like me or something? Why do you keep sending me into enemy territory for information we don’t need, or already have?” Ricky was oblivious to how everyone bristled; his only focus was Wardlow. “I’m getting back by the skin of my teeth. One day it won’t be enough.”

“Then you better make it enough.” With a sign, he placed his hands flat on the table as he leaned. “I know it sounds round-about, sending you back to the same places. But if we can find out who is on this crew, maybe we can out the Dealer as well. And either include him in the families without further trouble, or, if he resists, take him out. The only way Joe was able to talk me into sending you by yourself is because you work faster without the extra weight. Do you want me to send Spears with you?”

Ricky shuffled in his seat. “No, Boss. I’ll, uh, finish my coffee and head out.”

“Take your time.” Wardlow tapped his knuckles on the table to keep Ricky’s eye contact. “Don’t rush this. Do it right and you’ll probably be home by suppertime. If you get caught snooping, I don’t have the manpower to help you out. You’re on your own. Understand?”

A level of realization washed over Ricky’s face. Within a blink, he looked completely calm. “I understand.”

“Alright. Everyone, finish your breakfasts and head out.”

Wardlow and Joe were out the door before Esther could ask what her task was. When returning her plate to the kitchen, she said as much. Mrs. Anne gave her shoulders a squeeze.

“Our task is laundry day. It gives us clean sheets at least. Or clean fabric for bandages if someone comes back for the worst.”

Ricky disappeared before Esther could talk to him too. Something about his demeanor at the end of breakfast worried her. He had given her forehead a lingering kiss before she headed to the kitchen, squeezing her tight to his torso, despite the soft hoots from crewmates. But once the laundry process began, she didn’t have room to ruminate on any of it. If anything, Esther welcomed the task. It gave her something to do with her hands. And it gave her room to relax again. While her muscles strained with the familiar task, the tension of the past several days melted away. A couple of hours passed this way: heating hot water, chatting with Mrs. Anne, and joining in with her to tease Mr. Jim.

When the back door opened, Wardlow and Joe could hardly enter for all of the fabric hanging off the back porch.

The Boss smiled at Esther as he stepped in. “Looks like the circus is in town.”

“And you’ll have to go join one if you put those greasy hands anywhere near my clean sheets, Mr. Wardlow.” Mrs. Anne tapped her stirring spoon on the inside of the large boiling pot. “You undo Miss Garnier’s and my work, and it’ll be you sweating over his task.”

Esther laughed at the bemused shock on his face. And again as he deftly slid his hands into his coat pockets, far away from the sheets.

At first, she thought it was the wind. But then the billowing fabric flew up, a few falling off the line, to reveal a huffing and puffing Spears.

“Mr. Spears, do you mind-” Mrs. Anne started.

“Sorry, Anne. But- they- they got Ricky.”

Esther dropped a wad of fabric back into the pot with a splash, drenching her skirt.

Face ashen, Wardlow slumped against the wall. He was unsurprised, and, terrifyingly to Esther, resolute. He exhaled slowly. “Starks knew the risk. How’s everyone else?”

Before Spears could answer, Esther sputtered, “that’s it? ‘He knew the risks’ so you’re just going to leave him there? You- you can’t do that. You three are here! Why don’t-”

“We won’t be enough.” Spears accepted the glass of water Mr. Jim handed him. Panting, he gulped it down. “Something’s got Friedman spooked. Everyone’s home… and armed to the teeth. Ricky would have seen that, but however it was, he still got nabbed.” Spears accepted her watery glare. “I’m sorry, Miss Garnier.”

No. This couldn’t be happening. Everyone else in the room was silent. All of them already in mourning. Besides Spears’s receding panting, and Esther’s quickening hyperventilating, only the boiling pots made a sound. The situation burned Esther more than the scent of lye in her nose. Several times she tried to start a defense. And each time, the words died in her throat. First one tear, then another, rolled hot and miserable down her cheek. Mrs. Anne gently took hold of her shoulders, her own chin wobbling.

“Your dress is soaked through, dear. How about we change you into another one before you catch cold?”

The dam broke.

“Are we just supposed to live on like normal? Like nothing has happened? They can’t leave him there,” Esther rasped. “They just can’t. What does Friedman want? Give it to him. Just get Ricky back.” With a sob, she let Mrs. Anne envelope her in a hug.

Over her head, Mrs. Anne pleaded silently with the Wardlow, boring her eyes into the deflected gazes of each of the leaders.

Speares cleared his throat. “They dragged him in. They- they didn’t… clip him in the street.”

“He’s probably still alive then.” Wardlow nodded. “Starks has gotten into tougher trouble before. He can get himself out.”

Joe rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Like he did last time?”

Still, nobody moved.

As the air rushed out of her lungs, Mrs. Anne’s shoulders slumped. “Come on, dear. Let’s get you upstairs.

“They can’t. They just can’t.” Esther continued to hiccup through her whispers. She took a deep ragged breath. “What is it all for? Haven’t we lost enough already?”

At the base of the stairs, Esther’s knees gave out. She fell onto the first step without a sound. Fluttering around, Mrs. Anne tried to rouse her. Esther’s single raised hand stopped her cold.

“I’m alright. I can make it from here.”

With gratuitous help from the banister, Esther made it to her feet. She managed her way up the stairs, oblivious to Mrs. Anne’s reactions or movements. With each step, a plan began to form. In her mind’s eye, she studied the map of Chicago, the territories. Too far to walk. She’d have to take a car. She ascended faster, her mind swirling. With Ricky taken, the men would probably have to leave soon to check the rest of the crew. She would have to move quick.

Changing her dress was easy. What gave her pause was taking Britt Baker’s gun into her hand. For its small size, it was heavy. But she’d held heavier boxes and bags of fruit. The weight of it in her pocket kept her focused as she grabbed the layers required to brave the cold. She paused in her doorway, stretching up her hand to the mezuzah. Just resting her fingerprint against the ש settled the plan in her mind. She would need the blessing if this was going to work.

Downstairs, the voices had thankfully drifted from the kitchen to the parlor. Wardlow was telling the Torrios to grab their pre-packed suitcases. They were being sent out of town until things blew over. Already, Joe had left to set up their arrangements. Esther had just sneaked into the kitchen when he told them they were to take Esther with them. To keep her safe. She ducked behind the icebox as Spears walked in the back door. The rumble of the car outside solidified that where Esther was planning to go, it was anything but safe. He shouted from the hallway that the car was ready, but Esther was already moving.

It took her a second to figure out how to shift gears. At first, she had to picture how Ricky had done it the night before. Without losing her resolve. The car started rolling just as Wardlow held open the doors for the Torrios.

“Esther?” His eyes widened. “Esther, wait!”

Biting her lip, she zoomed out of the alley. In the rearview, Wardlow chased the car for a few yards. She turned into the street. His face, worried beyond belief, hardened.

\\*//

Driving a gangster’s car through downtown Chicago was nothing like driving the grocer’s van to its deliveries.

This was faster. Other cars kept honking at her and waving angry obscene gestures. She didn’t see them. Not really. What she did see were the street signs. Hovering in her memory’s vision was the office map. Some streets were too narrow for the car or only one way, making her backtrack. Each second of delay gripped the base of her stomach like a fistful of nails. She did her best to keep breathing.

All of that focused oxygen sputtered out of her lungs when she pulled up outside Friedman and Co. The car blended in with the other nice vehicles of Chicago’s elite who showed up for their public spotlight of helping the poor. It was part of Friedman’s front. Soup kitchen in the front, distillery in the back.

The front steps were too steep for Esther’s wobbly legs. She walked into the side alley instead, aiming for the back door.

It was unlocked.

Taking a shaky breath, Esther fumbled for the gun in her pocket. She froze at the sound of heavy footsteps behind her, and the skittering of a kicked bottle.

Before she could scream, a thick arm wrapped around her throat. She struggled. But its grip was too tight. The grip stepped her into the building as her vision flickered out.

\\*//

Friedman and Company Soup Kitchen and Fresh Beginnings

Northside Riverfront

The world was rocking when Esther came to. Her throat hurt like never before. But when she tried to lift a hand to feel over her skin, her right hand was pinned down. She gasped as Ethan Page leered down at her.

“Did you have a nice nap?” He laughed easy, as if watching a kid trip into a mud puddle. “You’re awake just in time. Things are about to get interesting.” He stopped carrying her in front of a door. Gentle as it was, he still suddenly dropped her to her feet. With her arm trapped under his, Esther’s shoulder wrenched. It kept her too surprised to run. It wasn’t another five seconds before he had a strong arm around her waist and a gun to the back of her neck. “And thanks for the new piece.” He leaned close enough that Esther could feel his breath behind her ear. “It’s nice.”

A shout came from behind the door.

Although Esther dug in her heels, Page easily pushed her into the room. He had to lift her off her feet when she saw who the shout belonged to.

Ricky looked worse than she’d ever seen him. The eye that had been healing since they met was swollen and purple again. There was a trickling cut on his lip and his nose was bleeding too. Tied to a chair, his coat and waistcoat were gone, leaving plenty of white shirt to soak up his blood and sweat. He hadn’t noticed Esther yet as he was too busy glaring at the other occupants in the room.

She recognized the curly-haired Jack Perry. Sammy Guevarra. And Maxwell Friedman. A fourth man had his fist as the ready. He landed it into Ricky’s stomach over his bruised ribs.

“That all you got, Darby?”

Darby replied with another stiff punch.

“Hey, Boss. Look who decided to visit.” Page adjusted his grip on the gun, making her squeak. It caught Ricky’s attention, stopping him mid-bloody cough.

Esther shuddered a breath. “Hello, Darling.”

His shoulders slumped. “Hey, Sweetheart.”

A hand dropped on his shoulder, making him flinch.

“Aren’t you two adorable?” Friedman walked behind Ricky, placing both hands on his shoulders and kneading them roughly. “Just a few weeks and she’s already got you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?”

“Let her go, Maxwell.” Ricky’s chest heaved. “She doesn’t know anything, and she doesn’t need to see this. Please.” He grunted as Friedman dug his fingers into Ricky’s hair and tugged, yanking his head to one side.

Friedman’s face shifted from dangerous teasing to dangerously serious. “Then tell me what I want to know, and she can go home. Might even let her take you with her, since she went through all the trouble of coming to rescue you. All alone.”

Terrified, Ricky’s eyes went wide. “You shouldn’t have done that, Doll.”

Behind her, Page hummed into Esther’s hair. “But she did. You were such a lucky man, Starks.”

Full body quakes riddled Esther’s body as he shifted the placement of the gun from the back of her neck to run along the neckline of her dress. She struggled but couldn’t seem to form any words of defense. Neither could Ricky. He strained against the ropes. They dug into his wrists hard enough to make him wince. She wanted to tell him it would be okay. That help was coming. Wardlow may have been hesitant enough when Ricky was nabbed. But he had seen her drive off an had to know where she went. He would surely send help. Right?

“Oh,” Friedman snapped, remembering. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Can’t leave our precious guest in the dark. We were just discussing my visit to a certain automotive repair shop on the fourteenth. And you were there, weren’t you?” Digging his fingers into Ricky’s shoulder, he caught Esther’s eye. “Weren’t you? Those big brown eyes, taking in every bullet and twist of fabric. That’s how Wardlow was able to react so quickly. I was gunning for Joe. But just think; we could have met sooner.”

“You-” Esther fought to catch her breath. “It was your plan. But the card… you’re not the Dealer.”

“No. He’s just an associate of mine. How’d you riddle all that?”

“You’re not smart enough.”

A grin quirked at the side of Ricky’s mouth.

But Friedman’s sneer deepened. “Really? Not like you or Wardlow were faring any better. That card was enough to throw you off the trail, even if that hadn’t been my purpose. I thought I was returning the favor for services rendered on a few of my crew and three of my suppliers. It’s really hard to run a soup kitchen when someone kept clipping my grocers,” he whined. “But we didn’t know about the Dealer back then. We thought your boss and Omega were moving in for a takeover.” His sneer shifted into a businessman’s oily smile. “But now… I have to appreciate his methods.”

Esther’s mind spun. If he had shot Bill and the others, but it wasn’t the Dealer… working with him. Him. Which also ruled out Baker, Cargill, and Hart. She looked at Ricky, tied down as he was. “Then what is this all for? What do you even want?”

“I want him,” Friedman shoved Ricky’s head away, “to tell me the locations of Wardlow’s fronts. The ones that aren’t finished yet.” He punched Ricky in the jaw to punctuate his demand.

“Why?”

“Because-” Ricky spat out a glob of blood. “Mr. Friedman wants to eliminate his biggest rival and thorn in his side in one swoop. All it would take was one fast-moving chopper squad. And then he can go it for the kill.”

Esther pictured the front of Howls, the two she knew. And the businesses on either side that had nothing to do with the racket. She thought about the Torrios leaving the house and Joe and Wardlow going out. “But… Wardlow and Joe might not be at the places when you hit them. They could be looking at prospective locations, or at the house. All of those innocent people around just trying to make a buck.”

“Don’t worry about the house. It’ll be the last stop. As for the others… consider them collateral damage.”

“Murderer,” Esther spat. As she struggled, Page floundered to keep her from launching, hands ready as knives. When Friedman laughed, setting off a chorus of snickers from his crew, Esther dug for a way to jab him. “What about אל תהרוג, do not kill?”

“You’re a fine one to talk, considering the company you keep.”

Ricky watched Friedman step closer to Esther, fist tight at his side. And he watched her shrink back. “I’m not a killer.” He straightened in his chair as Friedman whirled around. “Unlike you.”

A knowing smile smeared across his face. “Oh, we know. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Confusion knit Ricky’s brow. Realization seeped in, draining away the remaining blood in his face. “What could you know… about-” He shook away the blurriness in his vision. “You’re still two steps behind. Or did your ‘associate’ fail to mention that he hit us last night already?” He grinned when Friedman’s shoulders tensed. “Some associate. Always beating you to the punch.”

Esther steeled herself to watch Ricky be punched again. Instead, he received a loud, sharp, open-handed slap across the face. It took her back to Joe doing the same to Martin. She couldn’t help but hear the shot reverb in her head again. It made her shiver in Page’s grasp. She knew what was coming next. And, looking into Ricky’s eyes, so did he.

Everything happened so fast. With a nod from their boss, Perry and Darby stalked behind their captive. Darby wrapped an arm around Ricky’s throat. He struggled, eyes squinting as he realized how loose the grip was. Then he heard Perry slowly loading his revolver. He made eye contact with Esther when she whimpered. He watched as Page’s hand slid over her mouth while the gun pressed into her ribs to keep her in place.

Friedman pulled out a pocket watch. He watched the seconds tick by, then wound it. “Only one of Wardlow’s places got hit last night. Where are the others?” He replaced the timepiece.

“You’re scared of him. The Dealer isn’t going to hurt you less just because you helped take down Wardlow.” Ricky never took his eyes off Esther.

“I’m going to count to ten. One.”

Perry flicked the chamber into place. Esther closed her eyes. She prayed this was a dream. She hoped she’d wake up on the morning of February fourteenth and could remember to avoid walking to Bill’s shop.

“Two.”

A tear rolled down her cheek.

“Three.”

“Esther. Esther, cherie, look at me.”

She managed to crack open her eyes. His warm, dark gaze steadied her trembling.

“Four.”

Ricky glared at Friedman for a second. He refocused on Esther. “The Boss knows you’re here, yeah?” When she nodded, he nodded back. “He’ll come get you. Okay? You’re going to be-” He cut off as Perry dug the gun into the back of his neck.

“Five. Go on, Ricky. Tell your girl it’s gonna be okay.” Friedman walked over. He ignored her flinch as he wiped the tears off her cheek. “I’d hate to show her how you bruise like a peach.” He flicked the droplets into the room. “Six.”

Even when Darby tightened his grip, Ricky grit his teeth and kept trying to distract Friedman. “Let her go, Maxwell. Do what you want with me. Wardlow’s been trying to get rid of me for a while. I was a dead man walking when I woke up this morning. You’ll be doing him a favor. But if anything happens to her, there’s no place in this world where you could hide.”

“I know.” He shrugged. “Lucky me, having the lynch-pin for the both of you right here. Of her own accord! You’ve got the best eyes and ears in the city, Starks. But sometimes I think you’ve been the most blind how much this girl means to your boss. Where was I? Oh, seven.”

Esther stared at him incredulously.

“You can’t be shocked, sugar.” He huffed a laugh. “What micki-fins have you been hittin’ this girl with? Don’t worry, Doll. We’ll get you back to Wardlow. With a gift between your ribs. Unless your boy starts talking. Eight.”

Ricky arched in his chair, nearly toppling it. Darby shifted his hold. He roughly dragged away Ricky’s tattered tie and shoved it between Ricky’s teeth, pulling it tight. Friedman nodded approvingly.

Esther suddenly breathed deep. And eerie calm settled into her spine. Gently, she dragged Page’s hand away from her mouth. “Darling?” Her lips trembled as Ricky stilled. “It’s okay. I’m just one person. You don’t have to tell him. I understand. Protect them. The people working for Wardlow and any boss. The people like me just trying to survive. It’s okay.”

He shuddered all over, shaking his head.

“It’s okay.”

They wished time would suspend.

“Nine.”

“Christ, Friedman. Don’t be so sadistic.”

Everyone tensed as a set of heels walked into the room.

Esther breathed a sigh of something akin to relief. “Mrs. Baker?”

Britt Baker gave her a kind smile. “Every time I see you, you’re in more trouble than I thought possible.” She nodded around. “Interesting company you keep. What’d you do with my present?”

She glanced down to her side where Page still had the gun pressed tightly into her ribs.

Baker shot a glance at Ricky. “That iron sure does exchange hands a lot. Some gift.” She primped her hair. “Friedman, haven’t I warned you about using Garcia as your doorman before? You’d be safer with a bluebird at your front door, as much as that boy’s head is in the clouds.”

With a non-committal humph, Friedman crossed his arms. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine. Just taking a snooze.”

He rolled his eyes, passing a hand over his face. “I’ll… remedy that later. You got something for me?”

Esther became hyperaware of the briefcase in Baker’s possession. Confused, she watched it exchange hands. Small and black, it looked like any other business briefcase. She wondered if it was the Poker Game list or something else. Friedman smoothed his hand over the leather, obviously wanting to take a peek. But he set it to one side.

“Don’t hurt yourself trying to make sense of it all, Esther.” Baker froze Friedman in place with a glare. “There will be a reckoning for his moves against me.” She didn’t bother to hide her smile as Friedman reached a shaking hand into his jacket pocket, handing her the thick envelope he found there. “Luckily for him, he pays well.”

After a nervous clearing of this throat, Friedman shot Esther a smile. “See what you could have had? You should have accepted the job, Sugar.”

It was Baker’s turn to roll her eyes. Despite the circumstances, Esther appreciated that they were on the same page about him. She winked at Esther. Turning towards the crew, Britt nodded at Darby. “Adam requested I get your answer. With Ricky out of the way, and unable to defend his old boss’s haunt, will he see you tonight at the meeting?”

The taciturn man bristled. But he nodded.

“I’ll let him know. Miss Garnier-” she sadly let her empathy shine through. “I hope you find a way out of this. If you do… you know how to find me.” She tipped her fingers off her forehead, bidding the room farewell. “Gentlemen. Miss Garnier.” And she was gone.

Friedman glared such a wintery glance at Darby that the man’s face paled, giving his hollow cheeks a skeletal look. “I don’t care who’s in the Poker Game, but keep me in the loop, yeah?” He waited for Darby’s short, sharp nod. Only then did he turn to flash a warm smile at Esther. “And I mean that. We’re all business partners here. How’d you like him, by the way? The Dealer. He’s the one who welcomed you into my humble kitchen.”

She wasn’t able to fumble through an answer as the information hit her like a stone to the forehead.

“Oh, that’s right.” He tapped a knuckle between his eyebrows. “He put you to sleep before you got a look. Ah, well. What can you do?” Settling the briefcase further to one side, he eyed it warily. “Now where were we? Oh, yes. Nine. Anything to say, Starks?”

Ricky’s struggle began anew. But Darby pulled the tie tight, keeping Ricky’s back flat against the chair. Behind them, Perry stepped back, distancing himself from the impending mess. The struggle was mirrored between Esther and Page, who shifted his hold on her to around her shoulders. She was too shocked by everything to cry. Still, her chest heaved, and her knees wobbled. She hated that her captor’s grip was the only thing keeping her on her feet. To the side, Guevarra cocked his gun too, though Esther wasn’t sure why.

“Ten.”

The gun dug into her ribs. A shot rang out. Ricky screamed her name behind his gag.

Seconds passed.

She didn’t feel cold. She didn’t feel heat. If anything, all Esther felt was confusion. She didn’t feel the pain she expected of being shot. Her eyes darted to look for the gunpowder smell assailing her nose.

Guevarra’s gun was the one that was smoking. And there was a hole in the floor.

“Hmm.” Friedman rolled back his shoulders. “You didn’t faint. My deepest apologies, Miss Garnier. You’re a stronger woman than I gave you credit for.”

Her wobbly legs begged to differ.

“What?” Ricky panted as Darby loosened the gag. He was jubilant that they were in one piece, but-

“Don’t be so green, Starks,” Guevarra snickered. “How were we gonna use Miss Garnier against Wardlow if we plugged her? Too bad about you not spilling your guts over her passed out body though.” He raised his gun. “Too bad.”

With a laugh, Page held the gun next to Esther’s head and pulled the trigger. It clicked, several times, empty. It made Esther flinch every time.

It wasn’t loaded. He must have taken out the bullets when she was out cold earlier.

It wasn’t loaded.

If there was a plan, her brain didn’t tell her. Placing one foot back like Mary once showed her, Esther bent at the waist and pulled as hard as she could on Page’s arm. Unbalanced, he toppled over with a yelp of surprise. His personal gun peeked out from under his jacket. Esther grasped the handle of it, ripping it from the holster and pulling the trigger. Page howled as a hole erupted in his thigh. Teeth chattering and body quaking like San Francisco, Esther pointed the gun in Friedman’s direction.

“Untie him.”

Every man’s mouth dropped open, including Ricky’s. She was aware that Guevarra was now aiming at her, but the gun was mostly pointed at the floor in shock. Friedman’s head cocked to one side. He chuckled.

“Do as she says.”

She hazarded a glance at Ricky as he was able to massage his wrists. “Can- can you walk?” The gun’s shaking made it clack in her hands.

With a nod, Ricky struggled to his feet. He kept a close eye on Guevarra and the man at his back. He snagged the briefcase on his way to her side. Winking at Page, he also retrieved her gun.

“That’s three times you’ve surprised me, Sugar.” Friedman honored her with a bow. “יברך ה' את צעדיך.”

May the Lord bless your steps.

“And may the Devil bless yours.” As Ricky’s hand slid into place at her lower back, her shaking ceased. He guided them out the door Page had dragged her through.

Friedman called after them, “let me know how that hero’s welcome goes for you, Starks!”

A minute later they were in the alley and running towards the street.

They both gave a shout as a figure stepped into their path, blocking out the light from the street.

“Joe!” Esther lowered the gun to her side.

“Esther.” Joe’s head cocked to one side. “Starks?” Shaking away his shock, he waved them towards the car. “Hop in the back. I’ll get it started.”

Ever the gentleman, Ricky shoved her in first before crawling into the floor beside her. They huddled together out of sight from the windows as Joe coaxed the car to life. Ricky gently removed the gun from her hands. His tired palms enveloped her shaking ones.

When Joe finally took the front seat, Ricky asked, “what took you so long?”

“She took the car. Had to hail a cab.” He glanced back once he had the vehicle underway. “I can’t wait to hear this story.” He laughed to himself all the way home.

Esther wanted to cry. She wanted to kiss Ricky all over. But all she could manage was to quake and hold him as close as his injuries would allow.

He kissed her forehead. “We’re fine. You did great, mon cher. We’re okay. The worst is probably over. You’re okay.” He kept his cheek pressed against her forehead all the way back to the house.

\\***//

Chapter 9: The Ultimatum

#original series #1920s au #aew fanfiction #oc esther garnier #shawn spears #wardlow #samoa joe #ricky starks #maxwell jacob friedman #ethan page #sammy guevara #jack perry #darby allin #britt baker

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anneandsnowflakepresent-blog · 6 years ago

Note

So far the stories great! I can't wait to see how it turns out :)

Me neither! - Snowflake

I’m excited to see where it ends up going. We have a general plan, but a lot of the direction depends on you guys! 😊 - Anne

#pureangleda #anne and snowflake answer

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nanowrimo · 3 years ago

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What Books To Read at Each Stage of Writing Your Novel

Have you ever wondered what books to read while writing your novel? In this article, Ph.D. and NaNo writer Ursula Saqui offers books to read at every stage of your novel.

With all the craft books available, you might ask yourself, "Should I save a cat, outline using the snowflake method, or take advice from Stephen King?"

The question is also what book to read when. For example, read about subplots when you start writing, and you might get so overwhelmed that you stop altogether. Or, if you draft your story without knowing genre expectations, you'll have to make significant revisions later.

The following are a few of my favorite books and where they best fit into the writing process.

Before you start writing

The books you read before writing should deconstruct common myths (e.g., suffering is necessary for good writing) that could distract you while also getting you into an optimistic (yet realistic) mindset about the work ahead.

Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert is the answer to gut-punching questions like "Who am I to be writing this?" that arise in the gap between having an idea and getting it onto paper. Gilbert offers advice on serious topics such as courage, permission, and persistence while playing the role of your adventurous friend tugging at your sleeve, saying, "Let's go. It will be fun." You will finish this book with a plan to handle fear, rejections, and slumps.

Next, Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird will help you get your pen ready with chapters about the necessity of writing "Shitty First Drafts" and how to focus on writing what you care about ("The Moral Point of View"). By taking Lamott's advice, you will get your intuition back and start trusting yourself even on the first draft.

While you are writing

Now you have confidence, strategies for dealing with roadblocks, and some words written. But, whether you are a pantser or a plotter, you will get stuck and need to fix gaps and edit.

If you want a clear explanation of terms such as "plot point" and "inciting incident," the mechanics of story arcs, and an easy structure for writing scenes, then James Scott Bell's Plot & Structure is the best reference. With 14 chapters on technique, writing exercises, and a checklist of critical points, this book offers advice that you can immediately implement and improve your writing.

Matt Bell's Refuse to be Done also offers concrete advice about things such as creating characters and reusing settings in Section One. However, the biggest benefits come in Sections Two and Three. Section Two guides your first draft to a structurally sound second draft through re-outlining and rewriting. Section Three takes your second draft through multiple editing passes to get you to a final draft that is agent-ready.

After you are done writing

When your book is nearly ready for publication, Courtney Maum's Before and After the Book Deal will be a must-read. She answers such practical questions as how authors get paid and how to survive book tours and trickier ones such as how to handle resentment when other authors don't write a blurb for your book and what to do when you hate your book cover.

Finally, whether or not you end up with a book deal, The Way of the Writer by Charles Johnson will be an excellent read after you finish your novel. It takes you out of the frenzy and reminds you about the fundamentals: the call to write, devotion to the craft, and the pleasure of words. His longevity as a writer and teacher is inspiring and reminds us that we are writers beyond any one work, published or not, as long as we keep putting words to the page.

Ursula Saqui, Ph.D., is a consultant and researcher by day and creative writer by night with works in The Daily Drunk and Multiplicity Magazine. Her current novel in progress is a thriller, The Mancari Murders, which she started during NaNoWriMo 2021. When she is not drinking tea, writing, or hiking, she is shooing any one of their four cats off her desk. You can find her on Twitter at @UrsulaSaqui.

#nanowrimo #camp nano #writing advice #writing novels #ursula saqui #by nano guest #book recs

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loonysama · 3 years ago

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Happy Birthday, Queen Anna of Arendelle!

This snippet comes from my forthcoming Frozen Fever rewrite, "Pour Some Sugar on Me."

❄️ 🌻 ❄️ 🌻 ❄️ 🌻 ❄️

Elsa hiccups several times in a row, releasing a fresh supply of beautiful pink snowflakes. Anna marvels at her sister’s unintended magic floating freely against the clear June sky. Despite the flurry swirling above her head, she feels flushed, and fans herself with her hand.

Elsa wobbles as she walks, trips over her dress, and even falls to her knees once. “Wheeeeeee!!!! It’s jus–hic– like ice skating, Sis!"

Anna holds on to Elsa’s elbow and silently giggles as she savors the opportunity to be able to take care of her. It’s an important job, and Anna takes it seriously.

Elsa, still stumbling, lets out a laugh from the bottom of her belly, such that Anna has never heard from her before. “Oh, Ann--hic--a, I think I must be dru--hic--nk!” she giggles.

“I’m so sorry, Anna. I had this whole day planned--hic--out, and it was going to be so special, you know, to--hic--make up for all the birthdays you..., because of me. Ugh..." Elsa looks down to the side, and whispers, "I ruined everything-” punctuated it with a loud hiccup.

Anna, who can’t help but laugh at Elsa's pout, says, “You haven’t ruined anything. This is the best birthday I’ve ever had!”

She brushes some snowflakes off the seat of a chair, while Elsa, horrified, notices the chaos her snowflakes created, and nearly falls out of the chair laughing.

Somehow, though, like usual, Kristoff manages to turn chaos into something somewhat functional. He stands on the cake table, holding the cake with a few holes carved out above his head so a blue-mouthed Olaf can’t get to it. He clumsily hops onto Sven’s horns, but with Sven licking at every snowflake that catches his eye, his antlers are hardly a level surface to balance on. Anna, too absorbed in her sister's condition to notice, finally pays attention when Olaf tugs on her skirt and asks if he can have some cake.

Before answering, Anna takes in the full spectacle of Kristoff holding the (most likely very heavy) cake in front of him, while balancing on Sven's antlers. His own bright pink snow flurry swirls above his head.

“Oh, wow!” she gasps and puts her hands to her warm cheeks. She’s instantly drunk on his crinkling eyes and gently curved lips.

“Happy birthday,” he says softly and intimately, as though they hadn’t all but broken up the day before. His voice, extra smooth against all his rough edges, gives Anna a fever.

Sven tosses him to the ground and he falls onto his knees in front of Anna. The pink snowflakes swirl around him and Anna eyes grow wide. He leans back in his heels, ignoring the pain in his knees, and, heart pounding, looks at his snow flurry for guidance. One look into Anna’s hopeful eyes and the words flow so freely that he sings them:

"I love you, Anna!"

❤ 🌻 ❤️ 🌻 ❤️ 🌻 ❤

#frozen #frozen fanfic #kristanna #anna #kristoff #elsa #happy birthday anna!#elsa's a lush #in a tongue in cheek sort of way

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hes-writer · 4 years ago

Text

All Too Well

Summary: right person, wrong time

Warning: sweet fluff and angst

Word Count: 4519 words

A/N: listen to ‘All Too Well’ by Taylor Swift first as there are some references throughout the fic. I also added time stamps as this occurs over the course of one year. I’m sorry if it’s confused—I tried my best to make it as coherent as possible ❤️

also, covid doesn’t exist in this au!

‘~~~’ = flashback, ‘—‘ = cut scene

November 2020

Y/N scrambled through the many articles of clothing sprawled in her drawer. The fabrics mingling with each other into a giant mess. It didn’t even include the pile of clothes sitting on the mattress and dripping on the floor.

That was the thing with Y/N. She had a habit of keeping things she didn’t need. She wasn’t a hoarder—although, Y/N did keep more things in favour of their sentimental value. It was her thing.

The fact that she could cradle a t-shirt in her palms and tell someone exactly what happened on a day that moulded the story of that specific shirt was her skill. Y/N liked to think that you could tell a lot about a person on what kind of clothes they wore—whether they were seeking affection or isolating, but not lonely.

In fact, her clothes didn’t just hold meaning for herself—it catered pieces of places she went to wearing the outfit. The things she thought of while adorning it, the emotions that she felt as it covered or—barely—shielded her skin. It was especially important to her to remember the people she spent it with.

Like that oversized, knee-length coat hung near the back of her closet. Y/N barely wore it now but seeing it beneath the splayed doors of the wardrobe, she could see flashes in her head about the last time she had worn it.

The way the pea coat flowed behind her as she twirled in a gentle circle, twisting the fabric slightly and catching tiny drops of littered snow. Y/N could picture the bulbous hat she wore on her head. A tiny pompom weighing every which way with the direction of her head. Her hands were in warm mittens that rendered her fingerless. The snow boots on her feet were crunching with every step of the crisp white snow beneath her feet.

It was truly a winter wonderland when the white weather sprinkled down on her—on them.

Y/N could just about feel the same large grin replicating her face when she snapped out her memory. The ghost of the hung overcoat literally hunted her as it rested in the shadows of her closet.

Y/N blinked twice, slouching her shoulders as she stayed frozen on her knees. The carpet wasn’t doing much to protect her taut skin, but she was in search of something and intended to find it. Except, she couldn’t find it anywhere.

She was sure that there was absolutely no way that she could lose it. It was a loud patterned scarf that frayed at the edges. It was, quite possibly, the ugliest design Y/N had laid her eyes upon. Though, a certain someone had reassured her that she looked beautiful regardless. Besides, the air was way too chilly to think about fashion choices that day.

~~~

December 2019

“Why don’t you pose for me, love?” Harry suggested, holding his phone tightly in one hand. That same hand was pulled free of the warm confines of his leather gloves as he insisted on capturing a few photos of his girl.

“You got it, mister,” Y/N replied, bending down to ball a glob of snow in her mitten-covered hand. She could just barely feel the iciness radiating off the protective layer. “Mind if I add some props?”

She lifted her hand, a raised brow quirking up her knit beanie.

Harry chuckles, “Go right ahead,”

He tilted his phone, ignoring the way his fingers lost feeling at the fingertips in favour of watching the woman of his dreams throw the patch of snow in the air. He captured the picture, admiring the way her back looked. Y/N really was beautiful from all angles. It was kind of counterintuitive, really, since it was snowing after all. But Harry was way too enamoured to question the questionable actions of his lover.

Besides, the gleaming smile on her face was enough to wipe his mind clean of anything other than her.

“Great! Why don’t you turn around?”

The woman looked over her shoulder was a subtle roll of her eyes, “No way,”

“C’mon, love. ‘S not even tha’ ugly,” Harry urged, commenting about the scarf wrapped around her neck.

She scoffed, “The fact that you have to reassure me is proof that it is ugly,”

Y/N played with the thin ends of the fabric, smiling to herself as she heard Harry groan loudly behind her. They were staying at Gemma’s house for the holidays and Y/N had purchased the first scarf she had seen at the store. She had nearly forgotten it if it weren’t for Harry calling her the night before to ensure that she would be warm during their stay. Not only was it cold, but the chilliness was just a tad too crisp to leave the cozy home without some sort of neck protection.

So, here she was dressed all cute from head-to-toe except her shoulders. It was a bit stupid to care so much about an ugly scarf design but Y/N guessed it had something to do with wanting everything to be perfect.

“I don’t think it’s ugly,” Harry quipped, sounding much closer than he had before. “‘Think it’s really nice. Especially the cutie who’s wearing it. Mind if I borrow it some time?”

Y/N couldn’t help the appearance of her love-struck eyes, smiling again when she felt his bundled arms snaked around her waist. Harry was warm, as usual, and he was sturdy as a rock both literally and metaphorically. Standing still in the snow gave her a bit of a shiver but having Harry’s body close was a breath of relief.

He cradled her between his arms, resting his own scarf-covered chin on her shoulder. Y/N knew that he must’ve been bending at the knees to reach that height. She clutched his naked hand between her mittens, directing it to a pocket in the confines of her coat to keep warm.

“Are you talking about me or the scarf?”

“How about both? Make it a two-for-one deal, yeah?” Harry’s voice was a bit hazy.

He felt as though he was captivated in a trance, watching the snowflakes rest gently on the slope of Y/N’s lashes. Her eyes glancing at their joined, mittened and gloved, hands.

She sighed, “Why not?”

Harry gave a silent cheer, leaning little ways into peck her cold cheek with his lips.

“Alright, now why don’t ya’ twirl for me, Y/N?” He instructed, taking cautious steps back in the snow.

“Like this?”

Harry nodded, thumbing the red button on his phone to press ‘record’. He watched as Y/N gracefully spun in a circle. Her pea coat flailed just at knee-level. Her boots squelched the starch white snow.

She did a full 360 before fully facing him with a bright grin. Harry couldn’t be sure how much his heart could take. He switched the setting to capture a photo.

“Exactly like that,”

He wanted to remember this.

~~~

Upon realization that Y/N would not get hold of that specific scarf—at least not for a while—because it was at Gemma’s home miles away from her, Y/N forced herself to clean up the mess she had made. Maybe it was the sudden strike of sensitivity coursing through her but Y/N felt much more emotional than she did before.

Perhaps it was the match-strike ignition of burning memories that flickered through her brain because once she started; she couldn’t stop.

It started with the frosty memory of twirling in the deep snow. Then, it was the flashback of driving from the grocery store to pick up ingredients before heading back to Gemma’s.

Y/N couldn’t deny the butterflies she felt playing that particular memory back because it was one of the moments that cemented a deep-rooted emotion in her.

The feeling of being beautiful—captivating, charming and alluring that Harry failed to notice the red traffic light switching to a reflective green. (‘Oi! Eyes on the road’)

She could still see the blush on his pale skin, realizing that he had been caught staring. And, by the way, the car behind them honked when Harry failed to move through the intersection. (‘Sorry, got distracted’).

And Y/N didn’t want to say anything but she could feel his tiny glances over her when Harry thought that she wasn’t paying attention.

———

November 2020

It has been nearly a year now.

Only a few more weeks until the dreaded date looped around to a full year passing. This time, Harry wasn’t around to celebrate the festivities with her and that ugly scarf was an article that Y/N had desperately missed. Ironically.

It would be just under a year when Harry had taken Y/N to his childhood home—now Gemma’s house as Anne had moved to a smaller place. It was where he excitedly showed her his room—the posters on his walls. The comics he used to read and the CD’s he used to listen to piled on his desk.

~~~

December 2019

“Quite an improvement,” Y/N commented, sitting on the edge of his twin-sized bed. She was referring to his King-sized bed from when she had slept over a couple of times.

“I’d say,” Harry agreed. The wood creaked under his weight as he sat beside her.

They both stared at the wall in front of them, feeling a sense of intimacy as Harry shared the remnants of his life to her.

The day continued when Anne had called the both of them down for hot cocoa, paired with a striped red, green and white candy cane dipped in the mug.

This was the part that hurt Y/N the most. It was almost too painful to remember—to reminisce because it was proof that the couple were so close to making a future together.

It didn’t happen, though.

Despite Anne and Gemma’s stories about a once upon a time, dorky Harry in his glasses (‘He still is’)—his family couldn’t stop referencing Y/N as his future.

“Hope your kids don’t take after his naked habit”

“Maybe your garden will have wild roses”

“Reckon you guys will get a small home?”

It made Y/N’s cheeks heat up. His family already thought of her as part of their family. And one sneaky look at Harry ensured her that Anne and Gemma weren’t the only ones thinking of their future because Harry caught her gaze long enough to give her the answer she was subconsciously searching for.

And when salutations had to be said, Harry and Y/N said goodbye to Gemma and Anne as they were to return to their respective London homes.

It was also the day that Harry had asked Y/N to move in with him.

——

It was exciting, to say the least. Moving in with your significant other was a big step in any relationship. The fact that Harry was a world-renowned superstar almost disappeared from Y/N’s mind because even though his home was a million times larger than her tiny flat—it immediately felt like home.

Harry wasn’t one to dwell too much on changes. In fact, he often referred to it as a sign that things were moving forward. There was no use being stuck in the same place when the universe had so much to offer. So, he was quite glad when Y/N made herself comfortable in his—their—home.

She managed to make the large place feel cozy. The decorations and tiny trinkets she had placed all over the house were really just pieces of her heart sprinkled in a home in which they’d build a life together. He would look at a pastel-coloured tea kettle and question when he had gotten the appliance before realizing that it was Y/N’s. Harry would use the tea kettle to boil water instead of using his Keurig.

___

Their schedules wouldn’t always line up. But Harry and Y/N were too loved-up to care how little time they spent with each other. There was no use in complaining when they could use that time to appreciate each other—for sticking around. For being the same when things moved too fast. For being the rock that both of them needed when times get rough.

Harry’s late studio sessions ran through the early morning when Y/N would be cooped up in their shared bedroom. Fast asleep and hugging his scented pillow. Sometimes he would find her bundled with a blanket on the living room couch. The soft glow of the television highlighting Y/N’s beautiful features. One look at her was enough to release Harry of the tension he felt on his joints and shoulders.

Y/N’s night shifts were the same too. She would return to a quiet house because Harry had fallen asleep. Despite his attempts to stay awake, he was not a night owl at all. Not only to stay up past ten in the evening unless he was out to do work. She had reassured him countless times that she would be okay on the drive home and that he should sleep when his body grew tired.

Harry tried to stay awake. He really did. And Y/N could tell because as soon as she crawls to her side of the bed, Harry’s right arm immediately pats the cold sheets for her as if sensing that she was nearby. He would mumble a quiet murmur of her name, “Y/N? Tha’ you?”

He would receive no verbal response, nor would Harry be able to see his love in the dark of the night even because Y/N hadn’t bothered to switch her bedside lamp on. Y/N was aware of Harry’s sensitivity to light, especially if he was in the dark for a long period of time. Despite that, Harry would hum in satisfaction when Y/N’s body would etch perfectly against his in a silent greeting that yes it is her.

They would fall fast asleep cuddled into one another.

If they managed to stay awake or if sleep failed to come, Y/N and Harry would trudge down the stairs for a midnight snack, squealing loudly as one playfully chased the other down the staircase.

Sometimes it was Y/N walking in on Harry munching on a few biscuits (‘Not such a health nut anymore, huh?’). Sometimes it was Harry catching Y/N making a fruit salad—an array of fruits and vegetables laying on the counter (‘I take credit for this’, he would say.)

But it would always end the same.

With both of them dancing goofily with each other. The refrigerator light was the only source of illumination because neither would be bothered to turn on an actual light. Not when the fridge served as a light source and a container of a variety of edible choices.

One night would end with Y/N slow dancing in Harry’s arms. His hands-on her waist, grazing her skin when her pyjamas too lifted. Their bodies would rest against each other like a stacked jigsaw. Harry’s chin on her head, hers on his broad shoulder. A pair of their hands clasped tightly on one another while the other found purchase with their bodies.

Harry would hum a light tune or sing softly so that they can find their rhythm. They would sway across the kitchen—slowly—crying out in pain and laughter when one would bump their hip on the marble counter. Y/N would listen to his heartbeat thrumming beneath his chest and even though she could only see a bit of him—it was enough.

One night would end with Y/N and Harry goofily flailing their limbs every which way. Boisterous laughter filling the room as Harry practically wheezed at Y/N’s admittance of performing a mean Dougie.

And with the fridge light catching the bits of it, Harry would slap his palm on the counter to catch himself before his knees gave out below him (‘There’s jus’ no way you’re that good’). She proved him wrong.

Neither of them knew when it would be the last time these moments occurred. Until they stopped completely.

——

It was the small changes that brought them closer together. And what would inevitably drive them apart.

It was the fact that even though the couple didn’t see each other much, they still cherished the time they had together because that was enough.

The relationship was built off of mutual trust, respect and honesty. Time was essential but Harry and Y/N didn’t necessarily need a lot of it. They just needed the reassurance of ‘always’. That no matter what happens, however far away they were from each other physically, however, the time they spent apart—that Harry would always come back to her and Y/N would always run home to him.

——

It was late-August when they broke up.

Leading up to it, Y/N had been promoted at her workplace and Harry was no longer spending late nights at the studio. He was sleeping in the studio instead of coming home.

Y/N was understanding. He was on a time-crunch since his second album was due to be released at the end of that year. She wanted to be as supportive as she had always been—if not, more. Harry didn’t need more pressure from her—his partner—who was supposed to be his solid ground in a cracking centre.

It was okay. It was okay. It was okay.

It was fine that they were spending less time than they normally would—not that it was a lot in the first place.

He was still trying. She was still trying. Messages, video calls—hell, even emails were there. The rare times when their schedule would actually coincide were spent peacefully sleeping on the bed. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Then, Y/N got promoted. More responsibilities. Training her colleagues. Interviewing assistants. Typing detailed emails. Double-checking spreadsheets.

At the same time that Harry was being pulled left and right to make decision after decision. Finalizing next year’s tour dates. Promos. TV shows. Modelling campaigns. Photoshoots. Interviews.

And like any other, answering later turned into a message left on ‘read’. A missed call manifested into an unopened voicemail. A desperate-measures email was only one of the many in each others’ inbox.

Harry wanted Y/N to come with him on tour the following year but it was a stretch waiting to be snapped.

She couldn’t.

Y/N was starting to build her life, building her career and she wasn’t going to give that up for him just yet. He could go on tour and she could visit when time allows. They knew that. Harry would buy her a ticket and she would be off to see him—when she can.

~~~~

June 2020

“I can’t go. You know that,” Y/N sighed, rubbing a palm over her face.

Harry leaned his shoulder against the doorframe of the bathroom. “I knew that. ‘Was worth a try though,”

They shared a comforting smile with each other. A hint of reassurance when uneasiness prevailed. There was something about the shift from spring to summer that simmered in their chests.

“Promise you’ll come to visit?”

“Of course,”

~~~

London may be Harry and Y/N’s home but LA was calling for him. Hence, why he spent the summer on the other side of the world. On another continent, across the pond, as some people might say.

It’s just a few months. He’ll be back before you know it, Y/N thought.

Harry will be home for the holidays and they would drive up north to spend it with Anne and Gemma as they did the previous year. The year when Y/N had met them for the first time and despite that, attained their approval to build a future with Harry.

Just a few months and then Harry will be back with her. The same Harry who will gently loop an ugly scarf around her neck. Teasing her about its hideousness before reassuring her that it was ‘as stunning as the woman wearing it’. . .or something. Harry always complimented her.

Yet, Harry never came home a few weeks shy before their scheduled road trip as they had planned. And Y/N did not visit him like she had promised to do.

Though, none of them blamed the other because they were too busy with their own lives to keep up with each other. What once was a loving and caring relationship was not a liability pushed to the back burner.

One might say that Harry and Y/N’s love was a case of wrong timing. They were perfect for each other—but just not now.

Because Y/N had a lot of things going for her and expanding her career. Harry was becoming more and more popular and successful by the minute. It wasn’t like they meant to ignore each other or be oblivious that they were still very much in a relationship with each other. Both Harry and Y/N just had a lot on their plate to even think twice about a relationship.

It wasn’t anybody’s fault—really. Even though their phone call says otherwise.

——-

August 2020

“Y-you what? Y/N, love,” Harry spoke through the phone.

Y/N’s breath hitched at the sound of the beloved nickname. It had been a while since she had heard it.

“I want to break up,” She repeated.

“Why?”

The woman picked at her fingernails, distracting herself from going back to the spreadsheet in front of her. She was in the middle of a break up yet her body urged to continue working.

“What do you mean why?” Y/N sighed exasperatedly. “It’s been months since we’ve seen each other, Harry. You said you’ll be home before Christmas so we can see Anne and Gemma but—,”

“We don’t have to see them! Y’can fly out here and spend it with me,”

“You know, I can’t,”

Upon letting those slip past her lips, Y/N was starting to question if Harry had disconnected because of the eeriness over the phone.

And as he said that night months ago with the alteration of Y/N’s word, “‘Know y’cant. You promised, though.”

Harry’s voice cracked and Y/N wondered if he was gnawing on his lip like he usually would when tears overflowed the ducts of his eyes. In the distance, Y/N heard a door close shut and she wondered if he had been working—the same as her—before she had decided to call and he had decided to answer.

A knife pierced into Y/N’s chest, guilt seeping in her veins as she recalled the words she had uttered to him. A promise that she would visit if he gave her the ticket. But that was then and this is now.

She wasn’t the head of her department then. Y/N had a lot more responsibilities now and she couldn’t just up and leave whenever she wanted to.

“And you promised to come back. Did you?”

He didn’t.

“Look, can we talk about this later? ‘M in the middle of recording and—“

“When are you not?” Y/N cut him off absentmindedly, splitting her attention on the Excel sheet in front of her.

“Excuse me?” Harry quipped, faintly hearing the clacks of a keyboard. “I know I work a lot but y’do too. Barely even respond to my texts anymo’”

“Says the one who doesn’t answer my calls,” Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes.

And there it was again. The defeat of silence that proved no matter how much they retaliated against one another—neither of them would win because both of them were at fault.

“I was busy,”

“I am, too,”

“Y/N—“

“What?”

“I-I don’t want to lose you. . .”

The ache in Y/N’s chest grew tenfold. Her fingers momentarily paused over the keys of her laptop board. There was nothing to lose. Not when they’ve already thrown it away.

“I don’t want to either, H. But don’t you think breaking up is better than waiting for something that will never happen?”

“What won’t?” He asked, genuinely curious.

Y/N pushed her chair back, staring at the view of the city from her office.

“Us. Our future. It won’t happen because you’re busy and I’m busy. There’s no right time for us to start, Harry.”

“Who says there has to be a right time, huh?”

“Says, everybody! How are we supposed to build our relationship further when there is no relationship to work on?”

The waves of emotion came crashing down. For months, Y/N had suppressed the feeling of loneliness inside of her. She missed Harry so badly that it hurt her to admit so she went with the temporary bliss of balling it up until it became too much.

“We just need time, Y/N. We don’t need to do it at the right time. Y’know that,” Harry whispered, wishing so badly that this conversation didn’t take place over the phone where he was currently locked in a bathroom stall.

He continued, “You were there, weren’t you? Barely saw you but y’were there. You know how I feel about you and I know you feel about me. We jus’ need time,”

Time.

Because time is when Harry and Y/N would slow dance in the kitchen at god-knows-hour of the morning.

Because time is when Harry and Y/N blissfully spent their time in the cold, watching her throw the bundle of snow in the air as if it was in slow-motion.

Because time is when Harry would look at Y/N and swear that it has stopped because nothing else mattered except her.

“You know it, you know it,” Harry gulped, breath hitching over the phone. Was he crying?

“All too well,” Y/N responded underneath her breath. She knew that he was right—that all they needed was a chance to reconnect and rekindle the flame put out by distance.

She hated how familiar every memory was to her. She hated how easily she was brought back to the moment it all happened with just the breath of his whisper.

There was no denying the emotion she felt wearing his hoodie and red and black plaid pyjamas at three in the morning. The affection she received wearing those pieces of clothing from the man who owned them. Her sock feet glided against the cold floor. Everything came flashing back to Y/N and it hurt because there was no way she could grant his wish.

“You’re asking for too much, Harry. I-I can’t give you that. You can’t give me—us—that,”

“W-what are you saying, love?” He whimpered, clutching the device in his hand as a last resort to hold onto something that was drifting away.

He knew that she was right. Y/N couldn’t give him that and he certainly couldn’t either.

“We can’t be together. At least, not now. We’re not the same anymore. We want the same things but we’re headed on different paths,”

“But we’ll meet again, won’t we?” Harry’s hoarse voice exemplified that he was—indeed—been crying. And Y/N’s wet cheeks were proof that she was as well.

“Always,”

_____

#harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing

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gucciwins · 5 years ago

Text

Frosty the Snowman

Harry and Y/N love the holiday season but Harry takes the teasing a bit to far and well Y/N decides to give it right back.

Word Count: 5126

A/N: hello! thank you so much to @goldenbluesuit for organizing this wonderful christmas fic challenge. thank you for allowing me to participate, kate. i’m so happy i got to be a part of it. merry christmas and happy holidays to you all. sending you all a big hug and lots of love.

_____

Christmas has never been much of importance in your life.

That was until you began dating Harry.

Harry and his family loved celebrating in particular because Harry was gone for so many months of the year. They loved giving gifts, and Harry loved spoiling his family. He was a true family man who loved to be doted on by his mother and teased relentlessly by his older sister. His smile never leaves his face when he's with them.

Ever since Harry found out how you spent the holidays alone drinking wine and hot chocolate on and off and binging all the best holiday movies. He declared that was not acceptable and that furthermore and until the end of time you would be spending it with him and his family.

The first year was something out of a storybook, a house full of kids and adults, Christmas music all day, and a big festive dinner. Gifts passed around, photos being taken to be added to the end of year scrapbooks. Lots of stories being told; honestly, it overwhelmed you.

Anne found you outside wrapped up in Harry's coat that you swiped before slipping out unseen. She stood next to you, overlooking her garden with you. "My son loves you; he's brought you here not to overwhelm you but to let you know that you have a family here, and you always will." You let your tears run free, feeling comforted, and loved. "I've never seen him shine as bright as he does when he's with you and when he's speaking of you. We all want you here as much as he does." Anne then pulled you into a long hug, the motherly hug you never got growing up. Reminded you not to stay out too long.

Three Christmases later, you now take part in family traditions, helping Anne cook dinner and staying in sweats and playing family games all of Boxing Day.

It's what makes your move to London with your boyfriend of four years easy. Knowing they want you there, knowing that the love Harry has for you won't fade, you've gone through many hurdles together, and it only strengthened your bond to one another.

Four years together, and you're still learning new things about each other, like Harry having to have coffee first thing in the morning, bread was a must-have always in the house, and that he owned more mugs than he needed. He picked up that you adored your shoes, meaning you wouldn't throw them out until they were ripped and beat up enough for a new pair. Also learned that you rather eat lots of fruit during the day than making food in the kitchen because it meant more dishes that would be needed to wash. You loved doing the laundry, Harry knew it was to steal his shirts, but he didn't mind. He always knew where to find them.

The one thing that really surprised him was your love for Christmas music; you knew every song, maybe couldn't remember the name, but you would be able to sing it. It never failed to make him smile; you even knew ‘Feliz Navidad’ and didn't butcher it as he did.

Your love for Christmas music was signified because you never celebrated the holiday, and music was easy to access. It was what you immersed yourself in.

This is why Harry is confused when he hears you begin to sing ‘Frosty the Snowman’ under your breath, then switching to a soft hum in the tune of the song as you start to place your freshly washed sweats in their drawers.

Harry was not sure why you did that; you loved singing out loud. You had a decent voice, as you liked to say, but why switch.

You're clueless to Harry watching you, deep in thought, trying his best to analyze you.

Then Harry gasps; it all clicks, making sense.

You raise your head to look at him, shutting the drawer with your hip. "What?"

"You don't know the lyrics." Harry accuses.

"To what?" You step towards the bed, wanting to finish the rest of this to finally go down and each lunch.

"Frosty the Snowman."

"I do." You defend.

Harry smirks, crossing his arms. "Prove it."

"No."

"Why not?"

You frown before taking a deep breath and begin to hum the song correctly to Harry.

"Okay, you know the tune, now the lyrics." He gestures for you to go on.

"Frosty the snowman..." Your voice dies down, you rake your brain for the correct lyrics, sending a smaller prayer you're right. "had a shiny nose?"

"Oh, this is golden, love." He's laughing now. It's filling up the room.

"Harry," You whine.

"You call yourself the Christmas Queen." Harry is holding his stomach, his laughter getting to be too much. "Next, you're going to tell me you don't know the lyrics to 'All I Want For Christmas Is You.'"

"How dare you, that came out in our birth year." You're over making fun of you.

"Okay fine, but really so many years, and you never learned. You said you love all Christmas music, and well, that's a classic, dove."

You run a hand through your hair, your fingers getting caught on the tips for not brushing it out. "I never actually got to make a snowman, so I never listened to the lyrics."

"Are you secretly a Grinch as well?" Harry teases.

You throw a balled-up shirt of his and hit him square in the face; it quiets him down. "Conversation over."

You walk out of the room, leaving him alone, to his chuckling.

_____

In your home, something was always baking.

It was either Harry trying to better his last bread or you baking a new vegan cake that Gemma sent you.

It's something you both loved to do.

For you, though, it was your own form of meditation. No matter the time of day, if you felt your head spinning, you'd just head to the kitchen and begin to take out ingredients letting that be your only focus. The Great British Baking Show also brings a lot of comfort to you, Harry happily laying his head on your lap, your hand running through his hair as you just let the show play on and on.

Now, you're in the kitchen for a whole other reason; you're baking gingerbread cookies, from snowflakes to snowman and even little reindeer. Harry has invited friends over for a fun holiday decorating party. It sounded like a good idea until he left you to do it all yourself as he ran errands that he pushed off for a week.

Thankfully, there were no distractions during the time it took you to make one hundred cookies because there would be casualties during the decorating. Just as you were putting the last dozen on the cooling rack, does your phone ring causing it to cut off Paul McCartney's singing of 'Wonderful Christmastime.'

As you pick it up to answer, you check the caller id and see that it's Gemma calling.

Gemma forgoes a greeting and goes straight to the reason for her call.

"You don't know 'Frosty the Snowman!'" She exclaims more than asks.

"I'm going to kill him." You groan into the phone.

Gemma laughs, "No, no, please don't. Mum likes you too much to see you behind bars."

"Gem, he's been relentless." Thinking back to the past few days and how he'd randomly come up to you and just begin to sing the lyrics to you, not shutting up until you tickled him too much to continue. "Please don't let it come up later."

"I've got you," Gemma assures you.

"Thank you."

"As long," Gemma begins, but you groan jokingly into the phone.

"Go on," You sigh, knowing this is how the eldest Styles sibling acts.

"As long as you tell me what Harry bought mum for Christmas."

"Alright, fair." Very well, Harry would most likely spoil this himself the closer the holiday arrives.

Just as you were about to spoil Harry's gift, he walks through the kitchen, saved by the devil himself. "I'll tell you later when you get here." You tell Gemma, smiling at Harry as you bid his sister goodbye.

"Who was it, love?" Harry asks, kissing you lightly on your lips, being able to taste the gingerbread on your lips that makes him beeline to the cooled cookies.

"Gems, a huge birdie told her I don't know the lyrics to a popular song." You lean against the counter, smiling as he has a cookie in hand already; he is also a big reason you made so many.

"Hey," He says, offended, a cookie half shoved in his mouth. "I'm not huge."

"Never said it was you, hun." You smirk. "Thanks for fessing up."

He pouts, not liking that you outsmarted him.

"Might want to watch the cookies." You pinch his love handles, snatching what was left of the cookie from his hand and heading upstairs.

Harry watches you walk away, upset that you stole his cookie; also, he knows you love his winter gains.

_____

You and Harry are up fairly early, he likes to go on a run around the neighborhood, but you like going to the park. This morning you skipped your run because Harry was meeting up with a friend for breakfast.

Sure, you got up at your usual time at 7am and began to prepare yourself breakfast. You usually drank coffee with Harry and seeing as he wasn't here, you decided to skip it, instead going straight to the fridge to get the fruits and orange juice to make a smoothie. Something simple, not wanting to clean much after.

As you finally settled on the couch, getting ready to read Educated by Tara Westover, a book Gemma recommended to her then gifted to her. Tara's memoir is her story of how she comes from a Mormon background and recounts how she educated herself to go to college and learn about the world. It's a Friday, and what better way to spend it lost in a book.

You had just flipped it open when your phone rang, alerting you to a message. As much as you didn't want to check because you were finally in a comfortable position, you knew it could easily be Harry checking in who gets worried about not getting a reply even five minutes after. He's a worrier at heart.

As you retrieve it and settle yourself back down, not at all comfortable anymore, you see it's a message from Iz. She was the first friend you made on your own that Harry didn't introduce you to. Iz saw you at a coffee shop you began to frequent and complimented your tote bag that had wildflowers embroidered on it. You thanked her and shared you made it. Iz was shocked, just throwing compliment after compliment. You offered to make her one, but she said you had better teach her instead. Thus, a friendship began.

Her message read:

Radio 1 Breakfast Show. Listen in!

It was definitely a strange message coming from Iz, but you did as told.

Greg James was saying goodbye to his special guest, no idea who it was. "Before he signs off, he's going to play you one of his favorite Christmas songs," Greg says, then silences, allowing his guest a moment before speaking.

"This week's Christmas song is in honor of my girlfriend who loves singing Frosty the Snowman... without knowing the lyrics. Happy Holidays."

Your jaw drops.

That your boyfriend's voice. You are the girlfriend.

He went on record.

Harry really went on live radio to tell thousands that you don't know the lyrics to a Christmas classic.

You want to laugh because you never expected this from him and are annoyed that something personal now the whole world will know by the end of the day.

You can't wait until he arrives home.

"Harry Edward Styles!" You yell as you hear Harry open the front door.

He looks sheepish. "Yes, my darling angel."

"You told me you were having breakfast with Greg James, not that you were going to be on the Breakfast show."

"I took muffins, and they provided coffee, therefore, breakfast." Harry defends

"You exposed me to all of the UK to not knowing 'Frosty the Snowman.'"

"No one knows you're my girlfriend." Harry tries to brush it off.

"We've been dating four years; I'm not that much of a secret. Anne posts me on her story from time to time, and your friends follow my Instagram, fuck; you've introduced me to Greg." You're not angry, more annoyed than anything because he won't let this go.

"It's just to give everyone a good laugh; no one is going to hold it against you."

"No, just my boyfriend and everyone who listens to the Breakfast Show." You cross your arms before storming up the stairs away from Harry.

"Love? You're not actually mad, right?" Harry asks, pushing the bedroom door open.

"You even got Iz on it!" Your turn around with a pout on your face.

Harry laughs. "I honestly thought she wouldn't go through with it."

"Well, I see where her loyalty lies."

Harry steps close and pulls you into his chest. You sigh, wrapping your arms around him. He knows how much you love his hugs.

"I promise this is the last I mention of it."

You frown into his chest, not at all believing him. Harry pats your bum, and you take that as the queue to look up at him. He's smiling down at you, leaning in to give you a quick peck. "I promise."

"Okay, then." You lean in and kiss him, firmer this time and much longer. Harry sneaks his tongue in, instantly getting a moan out of you.

"I know how you can make it up to me." You gasp, pulling away,

Harry raises an eyebrow at you. "Do tell."

A smirk on both your faces as you guide him to the bed, very much hungry for something that wasn't breakfast.

_____

Harry has the Christmas playlist running; it's a Sunday, meaning they spend it at home doing absolutely nothing. To be truthful, they rolled out of bed past ten and still have their pj's on. Not at all bothering to change, why waste more clothes if no one will see them like this in the comfort of their own home.

You cooked grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch and now are playing a game of scrabble.

Harry puts down the word 'light,' then reaching his hand into the black pouch to pick five letters to have seven once again. You are looking back and forth between the board and your letters, thinking of the best place to place your word.

"I've got a question," Harry says, looking at you, wanting all your attention as well.

"What is it?" You're focused on your letters. Rearranging them, not putting down the 'q' in your hand. It's currently useless but will eventually give you a word to win the game. Not that you both ever keep points, oh no, that stopped after you beat harry 120 to 66, and he flipped the board, causing letters to fly everyone. You still claim that there are missing letters.

"Frosty is a cute name."

"Reminds me of that Wendy's dessert. I'm still not sure what made it so good." You say, maybe you should get up and eat some. Harry did just pick up new flavors that he had been wanting to try something about them being richer in flavor.

"You're getting off track."

"Sorry, Frosty is cute for what?" You don't let him answer before you're speaking again. "A dog, did you get a dog?" You pause, looking up at him, "a cat, did Anne find a stray and wants to give them to us?" You wait, but Harry is about to crush all your excitement.

"None of that." He shakes his head at you, and disappointment fills you immediately.

"Well, can this conversation end then? I'm disappointed."

"Darling," Harry chastises you for not letting him go on.

"Go on then, mate." You gesture him to continue. Shifting your attention away from the game in front of you.

Harry frowns, his eyebrows pinching together in the sweet way that makes you want to rub them out until he's relaxed. "Why'd you call me, mate?"

"Oh, I've called you this before." You brush off Harry's reactions; he's always dramatic.

"I'm not your friend." He states.

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head and really look at Harry. "Well, of course, you are boyfriend," You emphasize, dragging out the word. "You're my best friend."

"You can't say boyfriend anymore. I'm your fiancé now." Harry states proudly, but you feel a little dumbfounded, not knowing why he is saying that.

Your eyes widen when you look down at your left hand, and no ring rests on your left ring finger.

"Fuck, I missed your proposal, and the ring got lost." You pout, trying your best to stop the smirk from coming out.

"Darling, I'm sorry." Harry quickly apologizes. "I'm still your boyfriend, but I will be proposing soon." He promises. "Shit, you were supposed to not even know. I really am bad at hiding things."

"Fuck, you really are." You laugh, "but boyfriend sounds cute. Can't I still say boyfriend when you do?"

"Doesn't fiancé sound nicer?" Harry tries.

You shrug. "Not as fun, husband is nice."

"You're rejecting my future proposal, then." Harry is teasing, and you can tell by the sparkle in his forest eyes.

"Of course not, you dummy. You can be my fiancé and my boyfriend." You tell him like it was the most obvious answer.

"Seems like a lot of work."

"Rude." You stick your tongue at him.

"Right, love, well try to remember I'm your husband once we're married, no more boyfriend."

"I will, hubby. You're going to be my hubby."

You both go silent.

You burst out laughing, "That's awful, I hate it."

Harry chuckles, nodding his head. "Yeah, I do as well."

"This is why I'm the brains in the relationship."

"Right," Harry rolls his eyes at you, not at all agreeing.

"Uh, darling, I went to uni and got two degrees while you only finished school at sixteen before going off to steal millions of hearts around the world."

"Including yours." He teases.

"I was always more a Zayn girl." You correct him.

Harry throws his arms up, "Can never let me win, can you?"

"Nope"

"We're off-topic." Harry realizing how far they strayed from their starting point.

"Where did we start?"

"Frosty."

You sit back, resting against the couch; you take him in and smile at how cuddly he looks in the purple robe that he stopped letting you use. "Well, go on."

"Seeing as-" He pauses, hearing the familiar opening notes to the song he was thinking of. 'Frosty, the Snowman' is now his favorite song. "Perfectly timed, as you don't know the lyrics to Frosty the snowman."

"Gosh, you're never going to let this go," You grumble.

"Nope. I figured we will have a little fun with this."

"More fun than the breakfast show."

He gives you a pointed look.

You let out a long sigh, "Let's hear it."

"You learn all the lyrics and sing it for me, and I'll let you get us a dog or cat." Harry's grinning at his idea, knowing you'll agree without a fight.

"Can we go to the shelter?" You look like a kid on Christmas morning who had just received their presents from Santa, and in a way, you have.

"Yes, we can. Only if you can learn the entire song." Harry tells you again, wanting to emphasize the singing.

"Done deal."

"Great, I'm giving you a week."

You smile wide, nodding, looking, finally focusing back down at your words and the ones Harry has placed. You put down the word 'queen,' and this wins you the non-official game. Harry looks down at his poorly hidden score sheet and curses under his breath.

"I win."

Safe to say you lost more letters that day.

_____

It's been a week, and Harry is patiently waiting on their bed as you get ready in your shared closet. Your shared closet is large and mainly holds all of Harry's clothing. You definitely have a nice share of clothes filled with gifts from friends as well as Harry's friends and your treasured thrifted pieces. You smile at yourself in the full-length mirror.

Harry really can't begin to imagine what you have in store for him.

The speaker is set out and ready, and all that is needed is for you to make your entrance.

You shake out your hands in hopes of ridding yourself of the nerves. You look yourself over one last time before taking a deep breath and pushing the door open.

"Close your eyes." You call out.

Harry rolls his eyes but does as he is told.

You walk over to the speaker and press play, letting the music fill the room, making your way to stand in front of Harry, who slowly opens his eyes.

He gasps; he feels himself start to get hard. His eyes can't seem to take everything in fast enough. You smirk, loving the reaction you got out of him. It gives you the extra boost of confidence you were needing.

You stand there, hand on your hip in a sexy snowman outfit to go with the performance you are about to give.

The dress, if you can consider it with how short it is, has three black buttons in the center. The material hugs your chest nicely, giving Harry a nice view of your breasts that are close to popping out. The dress hugs your waist and begins to flow out right past your butt. You wore your favorite black heels that Harry sometimes begs you not to take off. You had on a plaid scarf and a black hat that matched it perfectly.

You were the human version of the snowman except for a more rated r version.

Harry is sitting his mouth wide open at a loss for words. You blow him a kiss before letting the song lyrics flow out of you.

Frosty the snowman

Was a jolly happy soul

With a corncob pipe and a button nose

And two eyes made out of coal

You sway your hips side to side, singing, enjoying the ravenous stare he was giving you. You throw the hat, letting it fall at his feet, but not even that breaks the gaze he has on you, not wanting to miss a single movement of yours.

Frosty the snowman is a fairy tale they say

He was made of snow

But the children know

How he came to life one day

You take a few steps forward, but never enough to allow him to touch you, and he's craving it; you know he is. His hands are gripping his thighs, his knuckles turning whiter by the seconds.

He still hasn't said a word. You have him mesmerized.

You sing the lyrics proudly, knowing you practiced all week for this moment. The moment Harry will never forget all the teasing he had been doing, always forgetting you win these battles.

There must have been some magic in that

Old silk hat they found

For when they placed it on his head

He began to dance around

"Baby," Harry breathes out, putting a hand out to touch you, but you take a step back before he can do so.

You smirk, shaking your head no at him. You were having a lot more fun than you expected.

You bend over, slipping off your heels, never breaking eye contact with Harry; he could very easily see up the dress that you had nothing underneath. His green eyes turned dark, and you swore your heart stopped, and you were sure he was about to attack. You were the prey, taunting him until he had enough, but surprisingly enough, he took a deep breath, and his composure was back well, just a bit of it.

O Frosty the snowman

Was alive as he could be

And the children say he could laugh and play

Just the same as you and me

You stopped right in front of him. Harry's eyes trained on your red lips, hanging out to every word you were singing. You reached a hand back and began to unzip the dress. The grin on your face excited for the next reaction you were about to receive.

Once you reached the bottom of your back, the dress fell to the floor. Harry let out a loud gasp. Your breasts on display, the small owl tattoo on your hip staring at him, he could see how wet you were, and all he wanted was his head between your thighs as you screamed his name.

You were a dream. You missed Harry's touch. It was the reason you stepped close enough for him to finally pull you in.

He led them down the streets of town

Right to the traffic cop

And he only paused a moment when

He heard them holler "Stop!"

Harry has no expression on his face as he sits you on his lap. He lets his head fall into your next, feeling how wet you are through his thin sweats. You move to stand up, but he grips your hips tightly, thrusting his hips against yours, searching for some kind of relief or a reaction from you because you still haven't stopped singing.

"Baby, stop singing." His hand is cradling your cheek as his lust-filled eyes stare at you.

You shake your head, not letting him distract you. The only piece of clothing left was the scarf, and Harry lets out a growl before ripping your scarf off your neck, throwing it off to the side.

Now you truly sit there naked in his lap, and you feel all the control you have over him. The song is coming to an end, meaning you've got to remove yourself from your favorite place to sit but knowing you'll be back there soon enough.

Frosty the snowman

Had to hurry on his way

But he waved goodbye, saying

"Don't you cry I'll be back again someday"

You sing the final lyrics in his ear before walking away to turn off the speaker, an extra sway to your hips, knowing Harry is very well still watching your every move. You stand a delighted look on your face as you wait for his praise.

"Those were the longest two minutes of my life," Harry says; he puts a hand over his heart, feeling like it might just burst out. "I'm never going to be able to listen to this song in public or around anyone that isn't you."

You smirk, thrilled to hear that.

"What did I do to end up with someone as beautiful and perfect as you in my life." He confesses.

"Probably stopped a war in a past life." You throw out jokingly.

Harry puckers his lips and makes grabby hands at you. "Kissy, please?"

And who are you to say no? He spreads his legs, letting you step in between. You slip your fingers into his hair, pulling back with enough force to have him let out a moan. You lean down and connect your lips in a hot kiss, one that has Harry gripping you tightly wherever he can get his hands on. You moan as he slips his tongue into your mouth, and you happily give up the control to him.

You pull back and rest a hand on his chest, preventing him from pulling you back for you. You wipe your thumb over his bottom lip that now has some of your red lipstick. "Seems like I won, sweets."

"I feel like the real winner here," Harry tells you cheekily, sneaking a kiss to both your boobs. You giggle, not at all surprised by his action.

"Well," You fiddle with the collar of his shirt. "Why don't you show me how winners celebrate?"

"With pleasure." Harry groans standing up quickly and pushing you back against the best. He strips as fast as he can, not without a small stumble; you're sure to keep your giggle quiet, knowing very well how easily he gets embarrassed.

He is quick to get on top and kisses you hard. His kisses are always soft, but it seems the teasing seemed to flip a switch, one that you will happily remember to look to turn on again on a later date. Tonight, you are ready for an endless night of pleasure and love.

Harry connects their lips, ready for an endless night of pleasure and love.

_____

Christmas cards were a lovely tradition. Harry insisted they started because he wanted to show off his beautiful girlfriend to his friends and family. He also liked them handwritten because it added a nice personal touch. Who were you to argue about it?

This year you were the one excited to send them out.

It read: Merry Christmas from our beautiful family to yours

You and Harry sat in front of the fireplace, four stockings hanging behind you. Harry made you sit in his lap, wanting to show off your matching two-piece buffalo plaid pajamas. You both had the biggest grins on your face, eyes shining bright. Next to you, laying on top of a box that was wrapped with blue sloth wrapping paper, was a one-year-old Australian shepherd that had spent the better of six months in the shelter because the small pup was quiet who didn't do well with people, but that changed instantly the minute he met you. You decided on the name Frosty for him. Not only did Harry get you the dog of your dreams but a small kitten as well. You brought home Snow, a six-month white Birman kitten who was the rut of his siblings, and how could you just not bring him home with you with his big blue eyes staring at you begging to add to your family because he had lots of love to give. At least that's what you told Harry what the look he was giving you meant. The two siblings laid next to each other, both surprisingly staring right at the camera, making it their best Christmas photo yet.

A photo can honestly speak a thousand words because one glance at this photo tells you how much love there is in that home and their relationship.

Christmas was all about spreading joy and love, and well, Harry accomplished just that for you.

_____

thank you so much for reading! i honestly hoped you loved it and would love to hear what you thought so send me a message if you like.

i love you!

#harry styles #gbsxmaschallenge #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #christmas #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff

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drippingmoon · 4 years ago

Text

Excerpt

This time, when he held up the bowl to her, she didn’t flinch away. She stared expressionlessly at the dead fish eyes watching her back. Like performing some sort of ritual, she paused before lifting the bowl to her lips.

All the while, Tyrone hovered around, blitzing here and there so as not to miss an inch of her expression.

She dipped it down her throat, face blank. One last swallow as she thumped the bowl on the table, throat bobbing up and down.

“How was it?” he buzzed.

“Tastes like it smells,” she answered. “Delightful.”

But what was truly delightful, was how he lit up. Bright as winter lights, and today he looked as if he’d almost caught up to himself. While one wraith-like wing lingered behind, feathers brushing towards his soul, but did not quite touch.

“I want to do it from now on,” he announced, and she tipped her head to him.

Later, propping herself up with one hand on the beam, she barfed ashes. Liquid melted in her core, and nothing, not even bones remained of the salmon, and she barfed it all. While coldly looking on, wishing it could just be over.

Even if it burnt her throat, it wasn’t quite the same.

It wasn’t. It was much more bearable.

But from then on, all he gave her, she ate without protest. It wouldn’t do, to let him feel lonely.

The Mother lingered in the tapestry, in the curtains, in the soft wintry hold. But most often, he went out to search for her. In winter as white as ghosts, and as it were, he’d dragged Anne after him.

“I’ve been working on it, but I’ve finally thought of a play,” he said softly, words brushed with shyness.

Anne stilled. Hands clasped behind her, and her brows furrowed, and her smile was pained. She lifted her chin, awaiting her punishment in cold resolution, blasted by flurries of snow.

Snowflakes hung to her robes, as crescent as a smile.

This was it. A convict on the death row, she wouldn’t flee, not when he’d asked that she stay. So even if her throat burned and her heart was scorched when he took out his wings, she did not look away.

It was funny. Had he bitten or kicked her, she would’ve felt less menaced.

“Look, Anne!” he said, smile limning up the hope in his eyes. “What do I look like?”

He held up high those wings. The shadows they cast were deep, slashing across the snow all the way to her feet. She watched them with a fearful coldness, and smiled thinly,

“Like a little angel, as we never were.”

Some explanations are in order, haha. In short, Tyrone had been out of it for a long time, and Anne decided to be there for him no matter what, breaking habits from the past. The soul bit is literal, since we're talking inwings

Tyrone's wings are obviously not angel wings. He fashioned them out of sticks, which at that point in time coupled with the recent events, pretty much murdered Anne. But what those events were, that's a secret I'm afraid<3

#aquiver-aglow #excerpts #my writing #original writing #me: gonna post about the stained eye #me: uhhh but that would mean giving a coherent explanation on what those are #and that's how we reached this one while randomly looking up 'tapestry' bc i kinda knew what i wanted to post #then thought better and chose this bit #is this more spoilery than i'm used to sharing? well yes but i can take it easy on myself from time to time #plus anne being shaken is something i very much loved exploring #draft 2 #and his play. tyrone and wings was a thing since draft 1 #but the play idea came to me on the spot and by everything holy it was perfect

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onetwothreefarkle · 4 years ago

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Puppy Dog Tails

Just some tooth-rotting seblos fluff! Future fic based off this post. I hope you like it, @redmeanslove

Summary: Seb comes home with a surprise (also read on AO3)

Carlos stood in his kitchen, stirring a mug of hot tea with honey and lemon. Outside, snow was falling, rapidly turning New York City into a winter wonderland, though it was mid-January, so most people were sick of it, especially in the city. Not Carlos, though. Winter was his favorite season (dry skin and chapped lips notwithstanding). The snow reminded him of Salt Lake, and kept him from getting too homesick. Not that he didn’t love his life in New York, but Salt Lake would always be home, no matter how long he spent chasing his Broadway dreams.

He was close to achieving them, too. His choreography had already been nominated for a Tony once, and while this year he was between shows, he had a good feeling about the projects he had in the works, most notably an original show currently in workshops, which meant most of his work was yet to come. In the meantime, he was focused on supporting his boyfriend—soon to be fiancé, if he had anything to say about it—who was currently the star of a genderbent production of Legally Blonde. Carlos couldn’t have been prouder, even if it meant days like these, spent alone in their apartment. Seb had left an hour ago and Carlos had already skimmed through his notes and sent an email to his director about a new routine.

He sipped his tea slowly and sighed. He knew he had things to do, dance routines to practice and more emails to send, and honestly laundry to wash, but he couldn’t bring himself to do any of it. Instead he moved from the kitchenette to the living room, and settled on the couch with his favorite blanket--the one Seb’s mom had gifted them when they first moved into this apartment. It was wool (sheep’s wool from the farm, not cashmere, obviously) and it was thick and warm and it reminded Carlos of home because somewhere along the way he started thinking of the Matthew-Smith’s farm and home as a little bit his. Also, it smelled like Seb always did when they were back in Salt Lake and he was spending time on the farm, sort of earthy and sweet.

Carlos was pulled from his thoughts by the high pitched tone of his text alerts. He set his tea down on the coffee table and pulled out his phone.

New Message From Seb 🥰💖: Guess who’s coming home early?

Message Sent: What? Why?

New Message From Seb 🥰💖: Check your weather app, sweetheart. The storm’s getting worse, our shows are cancelled today so nobody ends up snowed in at the theatre.

Message Sent : OMG

Message Sent: Get home safe!

New Message From Seb 🥰💖: I will

New Message From Seb 🥰💖: Love you!

Message Sent: Love you too!

He set his phone down, and picked up his tea again, though he could barely wipe the smile off his face long enough to take a drink. He knew that Seb would be unhappy about missing a day of work, but he couldn’t help but be excited to spend some extra time with his partner, especially if they had to huddle for warmth. With that thought in mind, he flicked on the TV and began scrolling through their Netflix library, looking for something for them to watch.

45 minutes later, Carlos’s unfinished tea had gone cold on the table, and he had queued up Schitt’s Creek, a show they’d already watched multiple times, and that happened to be one of Seb’s all time favorites. He checked his phone, but there were no new texts from Seb. He frowned. Seb should’ve been home by then.

Message Sent: You almost home?

New Message From Seb 🥰💖: Coming up the stairs now!

Carlos grinned (and sighed in relief that his boyfriend wasn’t stuck out in the snow somewhere freezing to death). He picked up his mug and headed back to the kitchenette to dump out the rest of his tea. No sooner did he set the dish on the drying rack than he heard the door open, followed by some shuffling and grunting.

Wait-- Grunting?

Carlos peaked around the corner to see Seb closing the door behind him while holding a large cardboard box with one arm. Well, this was going to be good.

“Whatcha got there?” Carlos asked, in lieu of a proper greeting.

Seb looked up with a wide smile, cheeks and nose pink from the cold, snowflakes starting to melt in his hair. “What would you say if I brought home six puppies?”

Carlos eyed the box. “What’s in the box?”

Seb didn’t say anything, but a whining sound came from the box.

Carlos put a hand on his hip. “What’s in the box, Seb?”

Seb sighed. “I think you know.”

One of the puppies whined again, prompting Seb to set the box down and pull her out. She was brown, with big eyes and floppy ears, some kind of labrador mix, if Carlos had to guess. “Shhh, it’s okay,” Seb was saying, soothingly, petting the top of her tiny head.

“I want to be mad, but you’re so cute,” Carlos shook his head.

Seb grinned. “Come say ‘hi’ to Anne Boleyn.”

“You named them already?” Carlos rolled his eyes. He’d never met anyone who loved animals as much as Seb did. “Of course you did.”

Seb just stepped forward and deposited the puppy into Carlos’s arms. She squirmed adorably. Seb bent down and started taking the rest of the puppies out of the box. They all looked about the same as Anne Boleyn. Brown and floppy and soft, somehow though Seb was able to differentiate between each one.

“This is Catherine of Aragon and Jane Seymour and--”

“Did you name them after the cast of Six?”

Seb shrugged. “Well, there’s six of them, it makes sense.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “And are they all girls?”

“Gender is a outdated social construct that dogs aren't restricted by,” Seb chirped happily. “But if you’re asking if they’re all female, the answer is no."

“Fair enough.” Carlos looked down at the puppy in his arms. She looked up at him with big brown eyes. “So, how did this happen?”

“I found them on the street!” Seb’s tone turned grave. “Someone had just left them out to freeze in the snow! I had to save them!”

“Wow,” Carlos’s eyes went wide. “That’s awful.”

“I know we can’t keep them,” Seb continued. “But I figured we could take care of them until the weather improves a bit and then we can take them to the animal shelter.”

Carlos nodded. “Sure.” Anne Boleyn chose that moment to lick Carlos’s glasses, pushing them part way off his face. “But they’re your problem.”

Seb giggled. “C’mon, she loves you!”

“If you say so,” Carlos pouted. “Not exactly the kiss I was hoping for.”

“Oh?” Seb grinned. “What kind of kiss were you hoping for?” He leaned in, stopping short of actually connecting their lips so he could fix Carlos’s glasses. “Maybe something like this?”

They kiss with Anne Boleyn squished slightly between their chests. Even after all these years it still makes Carlos’s heart race and warmth flood his body, all the way down to his toes.

“You do know,” he started, pulling back abruptly, “that you can’t convince me to let you keep one just by kissing me, right?”

“Well,” Seb smirked. “I could do more than kiss you.”

Carlos patted his cheek. “Not with six sets of eyes watching you can’t.”

Seb’s smirk turned into a pout. “Can’t we just keep one? I think Anne Boleyn really likes you.”

“Anne Boleyn is adorable, but do you really think she would be happy living in our studio apartment?” Carlos shook his head.

“Yeah,” Seb sighed. “You’re right.”

“Hey,” Carlos poked his partner’s arm. “Someday, after we’ve won a bunch of Tony awards, and we’re ready to retire from Broadway, we can move out of the city, to a big house somewhere and get all the dogs you want.”

Seb looked up hopefully. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely.” It was an easy promise to make. “I always thought we might end up moving back to Salt Lake eventually.”

“Oh, you’ve thought about our retirement, have you?” Seb grinned. “You don’t think you’ll be sick of me by then?”

Carlos flushed. “Never.” He thought about the engagement ring sitting in his sock drawer, the words Marry Me hanging off the tip of his tongue. He swallowed them. “Impossible.”

“I’ll never get sick of you, either,” Seb pressed a kiss to his cheek. “And I love that you’ve been imagining us retiring to the farm someday.”

“I never said--”

“It was implied,” Seb’s grin didn’t falter. “I’ve gotten pretty good at deciphering your riddles after all these years.”

Carlos couldn’t argue with that, because Seb was obviously right, and a part of Carlos wanted to be annoyed that Seb saw through him so easily, but most of him just felt warm all over. “I love you a lot, Seb Matthew-Smith.”

“I know.” Seb’s voice was soft and overflowing with fondness. “I love you a lot, too.”

#seblos #HSMTMTS #Carlos Rodriguez #Seb Matthew-Smith #seblos fan fiction #seblos fic #my fan fiction

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sweetsubharry · 5 years ago

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Hii!! Do you have any fics where Harry is the Damsel in Distress and Louis saves him?? Bonus if it's a kidnapping fic

Thank you very much!!

hiya! 💞 yes I have a couple of those! :) I do love a good classic rescue fic!

The first four are kidnapping and the rest are just the damsel in distress type of thing! I wasn’t sure how severe you wanted the distress? So the one’s where Louis is comforting Harry from a thunder storm and stuff I didn’t include, if you want to see those types too just send me another anon :)

Anyway! Please stay safe and read the tags everyone! 💞

Count The Wolves And We'll Sleep Tonight by scribblewrite

Louis's the Alpha of a powerful pack and Harry's his omega.

When Harry's taken by rogue alphas, Louis will do anything to bring him home safely.

Burning Skies by emeraldharry

They both watched as ice and fire danced across their palms, hypnotized by the small things they could do with their powers. Snowflakes swirled around each other as the mist twisted about like a small tornado, while the fire in Louis' hands swayed and twirled gracefully—bright and warm and beautiful.

Before, Harry couldn't even think of touching him with the fear of turning his skin to ice. Now, he knew that Louis wasn't some ordinary human to shy away from. Louis was bright, fiery flames, a body of powerful waves of heat. Louis was everything he was not, his polar opposite, but it was all the more reason that they fit together just right.

[Mutant au: Harry likes to think he's normal. Except, normal boys don't freeze everything they touch. Louis thinks he's perfect just the way he is and shows him just that. Zayn is a telekinetic, Liam is a rising YouTube star, and Niall is the best human best friend there is.]

You Took My Heart By Surprise by LiveLaughLoveLarry

There is reason to believe Prince Harry’s life is in danger. After a failed kidnapping attempt, Louis is assigned to guard Harry around the clock. He is the best at what he does, but he has a tendency to not get along with clients. Louis and Harry start off on the wrong foot, but it soon becomes clear that neither is at all what the other expected.

~*~*~

Queen Anne met Louis’ eyes. “While your file documents many remarkable accomplishments, it also contains a number of early terminations. Why is that?”

“It all depends on what your priorities are,” he said slowly. “If your primary concern is protection, I’m your guy. If you’re looking for someone polite…” He shrugged. “I don’t generally try to be rude, but social graces aren’t what I’m being paid for. If someone values being sucked up to over being protected, that’s their problem.”

“You seem quite well-mannered,” Anne said, frowning.

Both Nick and Louis snorted at that. “You’ve only known me for ten minutes,” Louis said. “Give it time.”

cut your teeth on my heart by turnyourankle

Louis has worked as a security officer for years, but he's handed his first opportunity to be team lead. The assignment is nothing like what he expected.

Harry has spent years trying to distance himself from the pressure of the Twist name and legacy. But it's going to be hard to avoid when his mum hires him a bodyguard.

turn the sky black into a sky blue by orphan_account

Harry forgets that noses exist. Louis is a badass motherfucker. They bang.

“I’ve been in love with you since I dropped my books in the hallway and you made fun of me when you picked up my John Green novel off the ground.”

Save Me by CupcakeStyles

It took a door to slam him to the ground for Louis to look up and meet the broken eyes of Harry Styles, finding it in himself to want to help this boy from his misery.

I'm falling again by nancy01

Liam gripped Harry's shoulders and ordered him to look at him. "Harry, tell me what's wrong?"

Harry couldn't hear what Liam was saying anymore, could only see and hear white noise. He wanted the hands to encase him and hold him, not keep him away at a distance.

Harry tried to speak but all that came out was a whimper again.

"Harry? Talk to me!" Liam ordered again.

"Gonna drop." Harry managed to get out, tears leaking down his face.

harry drops on stage and Louis has to save him

If I Just Breathe... by whisperingwind

Harry has an asthma attack in the middle of an interview. Cue Louis saving the day, yet again.

Title from "Breathe" by Michelle Branch

If you're lost, just look for me by whisperingwind

Maybe the pain wouldn’t be so hard to withstand if it weren’t for his low tolerance.

Sure, he stubs his toe and tears up, and yeah, he might go to Louis for excessive cuddles after getting whacked in the head with a red bull can, but this is something entirely different.

He feels like he’s dying.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Louis whispers, trying to calm him down, and brushes his fingers through Harry’s hair. It’s slightly damp from the sweat rolling off his body, especially the sweat coating his face and neck. He doesn’t like seeing Harry cry, especially over things as petty as being a bit ill.

Though Louis is starting to realize that Harry is more than a bit ill. “You have to tell me what’s wrong.” It’s a command. He has to keep that overlay of sternness in his tone in order to get what he needs from Harry, otherwise he’ll never get a straight answer from the younger lad. “Deep breaths, come on. I need to know what’s going on and you’re the only one who can tell me.”

Or Harry contracts Appendicitis. Louis saves the day, again.

Title from "Walking in the Wind" by One Direction

How Much? (Enough) by iwillpaintasongforlou

Harry has an asthma attack during X-Factor rehearsals and only Louis ever listened closely enough to know what to do to help him. That's sort of how things go between them, though. Louis revolves around Harry, a bit. Harry revolves around him too, a little. Somehow it works- very much a lot.

tell me that I'm wrong but I do what I please by moonlightlouis

au where Harry and Louis are in a relationship and someone hurts louis' baby so he defends his honor

(twenty minutes later) wound up in the hospital by b4byhoney

“Baby, I think a quick trip to A&E might do you some good, hm?” Louis keeps his voice as calm as possible. He doesn't want to startle Harry or make him scared, but he knows that Harry’s fever is too high and he can't risk Harry choking himself into another attack when he's so poorly.

He hears a sharp intake of breath come for Harry and he knows Harry is starting to panic. Louis moves his hand from Harry's hair to his back, rubbing circles into his sweat-soaked shirt.

“No, no. Shh, don't worry, darling. Everything is okay, you’ll be okay. I just know that the doctors will be able to make you feel much better much sooner than I can...Just want you to get healthy as soon as possible, okay?”

or the one where harry has the flu and louis is a protective, nervous-wreck of a boyfriend

We Are Inevitable by mmargarita

“What’s the second flaw?”

“The second inevitable flaw in your plan is:” Louis stood straight and walked towards Harry, grabbing his chin. Harry’s breath hitched. “Us.” Louis smiled. “We’re inevitable, baby. We’re soulmates, and we both know it. You just need to come back to me.” . . . . 30/07/2020: This work has been edited and corrected, and now has 7k words more.

Snow Soaked Love by sunniskies

They take off down the hill together, Louis pulling slightly ahead, relishing the rush of adrenaline as he twists his body deftly through the powdery snow, his skis kicking up a haphazard pattern of tracks in his wake. He can hear Harry laughing loudly over the noise of the flying snow and Louis thinks about how he can’t wait to kiss him when they reach the bottom.

Louis and Harry take a weeklong skiing holiday, but when Harry gets hurt, their plans shift.

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funnylori · 4 years ago

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For Sale, legit (all of my dolls are legit and I have never supported r*casting) Fairyland Realfee Sira OE in normal resin, girl body with magnets in back. Nude, blank, no eyes. I bought the faceplate and body separately. The body is from a Haru with faceup that I got from Anne in Oregon at Resin Rose. I have since sold the Haru faceplate and it is not included. The Sira faceplate I got from the DoA marketplace and have feedback to prove provenance. The head and body are slightly different colors, but it's barely noticeable. There are seam lines, a little snowflakes, and some sanding marks typical for Fairyland dolls. There's some slight rubs and minor scratches from gentle play, but nothing major. Comes in a Littlefee box with the CoA and Realfee booklet. It may be slightly dirty from gentle play and storage. I cannot remember if I sprayed the face with MSC UV cut in preparation for a faceup or not. I'm happy to answer any questions and take additional photos for interested buyers. I have 3 cats and a dog for allergen warnings. I am asking $300 plus calculated shipping. Insurance is required. Layaway is available for 2-3 months, but all payments are non-refundable. Payments accepted via PayPal goods and services. I do not charge extra fees. I'm located in Washington just north of the Portland Oregon area and can deliver to locals. USA and Canada buyers only at this time. I don't have to sell. I'm not in a financial bind. I just haven't done anything with this cutie and would rather pass it on to someone who will enjoy it. I do not sell to r*cast supporters. #legitbjd #bjdsale #fairylandbjd https://www.instagram.com/p/CLxUAGRDU__/?igshid=1wcrm5dm2s9py

#legitbjd #bjdsale #fairylandbjd

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padfootagain · 4 years ago

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A Very Rose Mistake (VIII)

Part 8 : How You Fooled Everyone

Here we go for a new chapter!!! This is a little bit angsty at the beginning BUT it takes another turn completely in the second part and… feel free to come shout at me because… I reckon the end of this chapter will make you want to kill me, indeed :) (but in a good way, you'll see!)

Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, no warnings to be applied except for a little bit of angst, but you know me, nothing too terrible!

Tell me what you think of it!

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count : 3913

Holmes Chapel, 2011

10 months.

It was snowing in England. It was the late afternoon and the sun was setting already on Cheshire. The first snow of the year was but a thin layer barely covering the grass, leaving patches of colours amongst its pure white shade. It would probably be gone in the morning, melted by either the weather turning to rain instead of snow, or simply by the temperature not dropping low enough during the night. For now though, lazy snowflakes floated downwards, freefalling softly to land in silence upon the houses of Harry's neighbourhood.

It would be the last Christmas he would spend in this house with his mother and sister. His musical career was growing more and more successful by the day, and with the money he had made during the past year, he had bought his mother a new house. Larger, more comfortable, and one that would be hers for good and she wouldn't have to pay for.

As he looked through his window to your house, he noticed that your light was on. You were there. It was your last year staying here as well. He knew you wanted to go to University to study history. It had been your passion for years. He guessed you'd be off to Manchester, or even London, in a few months.

But ever since Valentine's day, Harry and you had barely spoken to each other. It was such a strange thing to get used to, when, despite the distance, you had always remained close during his first year away from home. Although everything around him was changing, you were still there, answering your phone and telling him about school and all those other people he had grown up with. It kept him grounded. It kept him as himself, somehow.

But then he had gone to your door with this bloody rose and a heart full of lovesick hope, and everything had changed.

10 months had passed since that night, and now that he was back in this room that had seen him grow up, he didn't feel like it was such a long time ago.

After that night, he simply couldn't be around you the way he used to. Somehow, his feelings for you were only more visible since he was aware that they were not reciprocated. He had this aching strumming in his heart everytime he saw you or even merely heard your voice, that reminded him that you didn't see him the way he saw you. It was easier, then, to avoid you altogether so it wouldn't hurt anymore.

Which didn't work so well, because when he didn't talk to you, he missed you. So, he guessed that he had only a choice to make between hell or high water.

But the distance between you made it harder to stay in touch anyway, so it was easier for him to choose this path rather than staying by your side. He fully embraced music, and he embraced the life in the band even though it still seemed crazy to him, and he embraced the truth that he had to forget you.

Finding someone else to love seemed a good way to do so.

And he did. He found someone else to fall head over heels for, and the pain waned slowly with a little time. But it wasn't the same as having you.

Harry grabbed an empty box and started to empty the drawers of his desk. He would probably not be home before his mother would move to the new house, so he wanted to pack as many of his things as he could now, while he had a break from the busy schedule of the band. And he also expected to throw away some of his old stuff he would never be using again. His mother would take whatever they could bring to charity, and he expected to get rid of a lot of useless items thanks to this forced cleaning up.

And he did. He put aside some old toys he would never be using again and wasn't emotionally attached to enough to keep around.

Until he found a certain shoebox that he recognized in the blink of an eye, at the bottom of his closet, under his warmest jumper.

It was old, a shoebox of his mother's size, he remembered now Anne giving it to him years before, picking her new shoes out of it and handing it to him. He remembered the way he grinned and hurried in his bedroom to store a messy mix of items, and he had kept filling up the box along the years.

There were souvenirs from his holidays with his family, a bunch of old toys he loved. Family pictures with his parents and Gemma. He had a smile on his lips as he went through his memories, silly little trinkets he had gathered along the years since he was a little boy. But out of all the memories, he lingered longer on the objects that reminded him of you.

This piece of red glass he used to call you, a piece of paper where he had learned how to write your name, some pictures of you as well, green marbles you had once used to decorate a snowman. He smiled as he picked one up making it twirl between his fingers. It was cold against his skin, glimmering with green hues in the electric light of his bedroom. He remembered that day perfectly. You and him playing in the snow, and fighting in a snowball fight with Gemma and your mothers. Shaping snow with you to form a snowman that, now that he thought about it, was a little wonky-looking. But it looked great to your two childish minds. And he remembered you running from your house with the marbles. Placing them in the snow. Saying that he could keep them as you were going to leave for the holidays. Harry wasn't sure why there were tears in his eyes now, after all, his smile was still there too. But for some reason, holding this tiny token of his past with you, summoning back these happy scenes before his eyes, he felt both happy and sad. Happy about the memories, sad about the present.

He reckoned that he should let you go altogether. That he should throw away the pieces of you that remained in his life. Maybe, getting rid of those memories was the first step he ought to take.

His mother called for him from downstairs, tearing him away from his thoughts. He answered that he was coming, an automatic response that he barely noticed making. His eyes were still fixed on the tiny marble, that seemed much smaller than he remembered. But then, he had grown, and his fingers now were much bigger than when he was but a child.

Maybe throwing it all away would be the first step to forget you.

But did he really want to forget you?

He must have remained stuck at the same place, without being able to move, for a moment too long, for his mother called for him once more. This time, he shook himself out of his thoughts, closed the box, and put it back in his closet, where it belonged.

And as he opened the door to his bedroom, he slipped in the pocket of his jeans the green marble you had given him such a long time ago.

Loch Lomond, 2020

It felt strange.

A good kind of strange.

Harry had listened to your plea, without a doubt, and made a point of staying right by your side during the entire lunch. As everyone settled on their blankets and chatted merrily, Harry didn't let anyone distract him from you. When some of Amy's cousins offered him a drink, he declined, and remained at his spot on your blanket instead.

And when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you against him, it wasn't really a surprise when your heart skipped a beat.

His sweater was soft and warm against your cheek, and you felt so cosy in his embrace as you chatted with your cousin.

But once the dessert was devoured, and Cassie was pulled somewhere else by your aunt, and your uncle had disappeared somewhere, and your parents were busy as well, you and Harry left alone, he didn't release his hold on you.

Not even a little bit.

He kept you gently pressed against him, a strong arm wrapped around you as if to protect you from the cold. He stretched his long legs across the colourful blanket, his feet resting on the orange and red leaves covering the muddy ground, while he held himself up with one hand thrown behind him. And you followed his movements, your head like glued to his shoulder, readjusting your own position to fit his.

After all, you felt so peaceful in his embrace, why would you want to pull away?

There was no one around, and nobody paying any attention to you. So, considering your agreement, you expected Harry to put more distance between the two of you again. But he didn't. And you wondered why, but didn't complain.

There was no one watching when he bent his head to drop a soft kiss to the top of your head, but he did anyway. Although, you wouldn't have known if anyone was watching, as you had closed your eyes by then, too engulfed in the warmth of his chest against yours, too soothed by the silly patterns his fingers gently traced across your arm, too lost in the scent of his cologne.

You hesitated to rest your hand on his thigh. Because, after all, no one was paying any attention to the two of you, so it was rather useless. But on the other hand, you wanted to touch him, to simply break the physical barrier that had stood between the two of you for so long. You thought you heard his breath get caught in his throat as you finally did so, but then, he didn't move his leg away, so maybe you had been imagining it all.

Still, you looked up at him, slowly turning your head to study his expression, as if half-afraid of what you would read in his green eyes. When your gazes met though, you read the same uncertainty in his coloured irises.

Your heartbeat was less and less steady as seconds passed by, both of you staring at each other. You wanted to say something, but no words would form on your tongue. It was as if your brain had gone blank. You saw his lips parting, as if he was about to say something, but he remained silent as well, merely letting his lower lip tremble for a second, before clenching his jaw instead.

You noticed the way his Adam's apple bobbed more than usual, but again, none of you seemed able to speak, or to move, or to even think...

"Y/N!"

You jumped as your mother's call pulled you back right down to Earth. You pulled out of Harry's embrace in a hurry, quite embarrassed, although you were not sure what had triggered the feeling. You turned to your mother, who was folding a blanket nearby.

"We're going back, let's go, lovebirds!"

You let out a grunt at the silly name she had called you and Harry, but still got up, straightening your clothes before turning back towards your spot to clean up the space and gather all your items before leaving back for the lodge.

Harry, meanwhile, seemed to need a little longer than you to come back to his senses, but he did so anyway. You silently gathered everything, folded the blanket, and joined the rest of the guests back to the shore to use the little boats again.

Harry left you for mere seconds to help someone load a bag in one of the rowboats. But mere seconds were enough for Patrick to have appeared out of nowhere and start a conversation with you. And your fake boyfriend didn't like it at all.

He was jealous. Again. Nothing new. Out of all the feelings he had to control around you, jealousy had always been the hardest one to tame, and your fake relationship wasn't making things easier for him.

There were so many feelings bubbling under his ribcage again, resurrected, it seemed. Feelings he tried to bury as deeply as he could in the darkest parts of his heart, that he tried to forget, that he tried to live without. But this whole plan was making things hard for him to keep going. It was making things hard for him to keep his feelings in check now, he thought he had gotten rid of them a long time ago, but maybe he had been wrong. Maybe it wasn't so. Maybe it wasn't so at all…

Harry heaved a frustrated sigh while he strode back to your side. He was beginning to be particularly annoyed by Patrick and this whole situation, for that matter.

He slipped his hand around your waist, and the gesture seemed familiar, as if he had performed it absentmindedly, as if he had done it thousands of times before. And you couldn't ignore how easy it was for your body to fit perfectly against his, like two pieces of a puzzle locking together.

"Everything's ready, darling," Harry smiled at you, before turning towards Patrick. "Need any help with your stuff?"

"Oh! No, no, thank you," Patrick answered uncomfortably, clearly displeased by Harry's reappearance.

Harry shot him a bright smile, and turned to you once more.

"Then, we should go, my love."

You hated yourself for letting your heart make such a leap into your chest at the pet name, but really, there was nothing you could do against it. The words, spoken in Harry's deep voice, with such a gentle and delicate tone, that hadn't it been for the circumstances and for the fact that you were aware that he didn't mean it at all, you would have even dared to call loving.

He dropped a quick peck to your cheek, before turning his attention to the boat behind you, and you followed his lead, almost forgetting completely Patrick still standing by your side.

You climbed in first, and Harry soon joined you. He spontaneously took the oars, and you didn't protest. You leaned back instead, your face thrown back to face the shy autumnal sun. Despite the cold wind that blew onto the lake, making ripples and tiny waves shake the surface of the quiet loch, the sun was still warm enough to spread across your face a peaceful feeling. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling, and Harry was grateful for it, allowing him to admire you without being noticed. Or at least, not by you, which was all that mattered, really.

"I think we're doing better," you said after a while, more than half of the loch being already crossed, at last turning your attention back to your friend.

"Yeah? More credible?"

"I think so. We should stay on that path."

"Very well, then."

"I hope it doesn't make you too uncomfortable."

"Not at all, it's fine, Y/N."

"Good."

There was a short silence, while you let your eyes roam across the rowboats around you. But then, your gaze settled on Patrick who was in the boat next to yours, alone.

"What do you think of Patrick?" you asked out of the blue.

"What about him?" Harry mumbled.

"What do you think? Do you like him?"

"He seems… nice."

"Yeah, I think so to."

"A shame I'm in the way then. The bridesmaid isn't going to get laid during the wedding."

"Harry!" you frowned, kicking his shin. "What on Earth was that for! You know it's not my style."

You seemed offended. He hated it. Hated seeing any form of hurt across your features. Hated even more himself for being the cause behind it. But he couldn't help it. He was bitter too, and it didn't bring the best in him.

"Come on! It was a joke."

"A bad one."

You heaved a sigh, and remained quiet. But Harry was not done with the conversation, and when he spoke again, his voice was a little deeper than usual, a little hoarse, and surprisingly serious.

"Seriously though, do you like him?"

"Yeah… I think I do," you nodded, after considering the question for a few seconds.

"Do you love him?"

You laughed at that, shaking your head at him.

"Harry… only you are romantic enough to imagine that I could fall in love with someone in just a couple of days!"

"It's not impossible!"

"That kind of love exists only in fairytales. And if it does exist for real, I am immune."

"How can you say that? Ever heard of love at first sight?"

"I can't fall in love with someone like that! In just a moment, without knowing them. I need… time for that kind of stuff."

He considered your answer, and was reassured that your feelings towards Patrick, if you had any, were not serious yet.

"Anyway, I'll see after the wedding, maybe I'll give him a call then. A date could be nice," you went on, and your friend's heart dropped again.

You went on to talk about something else, but Harry had lost his focus on the conversation at hand. You had almost reached the edge of the loch again, and Harry's attention was drawn to Patrick on the boat nearby.

He was handsome, and he was nice, and Harry should have encouraged you. But your friend was jealous, and he was selfish sometimes, like everyone could be, and he simply couldn't help but think that you deserved better. Better than Patrick, and better than himself.

The anger that was slowly yet steadily burning more and more vividly through his veins made him work with the oars faster, not really caring in what direction he was going. He didn't notice that he was heading towards an area filled with fallen branches and large roots of trees that grew along the shore. He didn't notice either the rock that was barely grazing the surface of the water, and neither did you, as you were lost in a one-sided conversation.

It's only when you started to be rocked left and right by the branches you bumped into that you frowned.

"Harry, look out where we're going!"

"I am paying attention."

"We're not even close to the lodges, you went too far to the left."

"In case you hadn't noticed, my back is at the shore," he snapped, and you wondered why he was so grumpy all of a sudden.

Because he had been so fast at pushing the boat forward, you were the first boat to arrive close to the shore, but the obstacles in your way made your progression more and more difficult. And when your boat hit the rock and was pushed in the opposite direction, you lost your balance, falling to the side, and dragging the boat with you.

And the boat turned over.

The water was freezing cold, enough to knock out all the air in your lungs. Enough to make you unable to move for a while. It was the feeling of Harry grabbing your forearm and pulling you upwards that brought you back to the moment, and you broke the surface again, taking in a deep breath.

You found out quickly that the water wasn't deep, and you could stand on your feet, the waterline only reaching your stomach then.

"Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?" your friend asked, all signs of annoyance now gone and replaced by worry.

You turned to Harry, your teeth already chattering, but shook your head.

"I'm alright. You?"

"Fine. Just… drenched, and very, very cold."

He helped you making your way to the shore, and at each step the two of you took, the angrier at him you became.

"Couldn't you be careful?!" you accused him.

"Sorry."

"Sorry?! Look at us!"

"Well, I didn't do it on purpose, obviously!" he fought back, clenching his jaw, and you weren't sure if it was out of anger, or to prevent his teeth from chattering as the cold wind got caught in your wet clothes, making you feel even colder than before.

Your fingers seemed pierced by hundreds of needles at the contact of the cold air, and your cheeks tickled with the freezing wind too. But you turned to Harry instead of hurrying to shelter.

"I can't believe you! You crashed our boat! I'm freezing!"

"Well, if you were so good with oars, why didn't you take charge, huh? As I'm clearly not capable of doing anything?"

"Certainly not of handling a boat, no! Here is the proof!"

You were interrupted in your rant by a sneeze. Harry had always found it absolutely adorable, the high-pitched sound that you let out when you sneezed. And all of a sudden, his anger subsided, just as quickly as it had formed across his frame. And he wasn't angry. His eyes changed the way they stared at you, with fondness instead of wrath. And a wave of laughter started to bubble in his chest.

And finally, he laughed. Loud and bright, and ridiculously contagious.

You were stopped in your tracks for a moment, staring at him as you were readying your next argument, but instead, were caught off guard by this sound you had always found the most radiant in the world.

And suddenly, the situation didn't anger you anymore either. You realized, on the contrary, how ridiculous the two of you were, drenched and with your jeans covered with mud, as you had fallen into Loch Lomond. It was funny. You had to admit that the whole situation was hilarious. So, helped by how contagious Harry's laugh was, you started to wheeze and then laugh yourself.

"I can't believe you've managed to make us fall," you struggled to let out, bending over in laughter, your arm now clenched over your painful stomach.

"I have no idea!" he doubled with laughter, taking a step towards you, and resting a hand on your shoulder to steady himself. He was laughing so much, he was ready to fall over.

You finally calmed down as you noticed the other guests coming closer, starting to reach the shore as well. All of them were looking at the two of you.

And then, the idea struck you.

They were all looking at the two of you.

When you turned to Harry again, you were not laughing at all anymore.

He dried his eyes where tears had gathered, and he struggled to catch his breath.

"That's one you're gonna use against me for a while!" he chuckled some more, before looking at you again.

"Harry."

"Hmm?"

"I have an idea."

"An idea? What kind of idea? If it involves us getting inside and out of the cold, sign me in."

But you shook your head.

"No, I… Please, don't freak out, and don't push me away. Everyone's looking, that's perfect."

He frowned.

"Y/N, what are talking abou…"

But before he could finish his question, you had taken one more step towards him, and in doing so closing the distance between the two of you. Before he could register what was happening, you were closing your lips upon his.

And you were kissing him.

*************************************************************

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#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #series #imagine #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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i-do-trash-fanfictions · 4 years ago

Text

Thera’s Journal Entry #48

I placed the final box outside my door.

I had been going through a lot of Zane and Sora’s things lately. I had kept only two boxes on a shelf in my closet. But there was a small storage room where the rest of their things were kept. I had gone through those as well, and had found that I lacked room for some of these new things.

So today I was going through things I didn’t need. I’d put them in boxes, and Ann was going back and forth with them on a cart like thing to put them away in the storage room. There they would stay until I started up a garage sale (I believe that’s what Poppy had called it when she suggested the idea) to get rid of the unwanted or unneeded items. I had to admit, it was harder to get rid of things than I thought.

I turned and looked back inside my room, which looked a lot better now. After Ann came back and took care of the final three boxes which lay outside, we would begin on cleaning up a bit more. The two desks in my room were cluttered with recent reports, that would need to be put in the filing room soon, along with books and other trinkets.

“I wonder if I should get another bookshelf.” I muttered to myself as I looked at Sora’s old books, which were in a stack on the floor.

“What’s going on here?”

I recognized the voice and turned to see Crow looking in behind me.

“Cleaning.” I stated. “Come on in. And try not to step on anything.”

I walked to the back of the room and began to move around trinkets on one of the shelves of my bookshelf, to make room for a few more.

Crow stepped in behind me. “Need help. I don’t have any more work to do. At least, not right now.”

“I don’t need any. Ann’s helping out right now. Once she comes back and makes another trip to put the last few boxes in storage, we’ll work on tidying this place up.”

Crow looked around the room. “You could use some brighter stuff, don’t you think?”

Most of my room was darker and cooler colors. The bedsheets were a dark purple, so were the rugs, and the wooden floors and furniture were all a dark brown. So was the small kitchenette with granite counters. The lightest thing in the room was the light gray wall.

“I suppose so.” I said, looking around as well, hands on my hips. “But it wouldn’t go with the aesthetic.”

“I’m going to pick up lunch. Want anything?”

“Yeah. Go to that Chinese place. Get me and Ann each a plate of orange chicken and rice.”

“Drinks?”

“Uh, vodka.” I said jokingly.

“Non-alcoholic drinks?”

“I don’t know. Uh, just surprise Ann and I with some sort of soda. Make them both large.”

“Got it.” He left and I continued to tidy up.

When he came back things were already looking better. Ann had had to stop down at a store in the city to buy a wall shelf, since I needed a bit more space for books. The dresser in the back of the room was now lined with a lot of Zane’s things, including his old cowboy hat on a stand. I might wear it someday.

“Food’s here.” Crow announced, coming in. I had set him up where he could come in as he pleases as well, though he still knocked, unlike Ann.

Crow handed the to-go plates to us both. Ann sat on the bed and began to dig in. Crow set his mask on the table and I noticed that he had a box in his hands.

“What’s that?”

He brought it out, showing that it was a plant in a light purple pot.

“It’s called a zz plant I believe. This should brighten up your room and still fit the ‘aesthetic’ as you said. They’re also easy to take care of. At least, that’s what the lady said.”

He handed it to me and I took it. “I know just the spot.” I moved it to my now clean work desk in the back of the room. “Perfect.” Then I went over to the table to enjoy my food. Crow joined me.

“You two are adorable.” Poppy gushed, floating around beside us.

I rolled my eyes, fighting the heat rising to my cheeks. Crow smiled at her and took a bite of his food. Glint appeared, and our Ghosts headed to my work table where they usually went to talk and gossip. The three got along quite well.

Crow looked around. “The place looks nice.”

“Yeah, it looks a lot better.”

“Any missions for either of you today?” Crow asked Ann and I.

“I had a lot of patrols on the EDZ, headed to the Cosmodrome to talk to Shaw, see if he needed help with anything, then did a quick surveillance mission on Nessus. Commander Zavala wanted me to see if the Cabal were up to anything. They weren’t.” Ann answered.

I shrugged. “Nothing too interesting for me. Fought against more Cabal, did two patrols on Europa, and finished up some Crucible bounties.” I took a big bite of food.

Ann put her plate to the side, already finished, and stood up. “Alright, I’d hate to be a third wheel, ya know, so I’m gonna head out. Got to check on Barney.” She turned. “Poppy, let’s go!” And she left.

“Barney?” Crow asked.

“Oh, yeah, that’s her dog. We think he’s a lab, or at least has some lab in him.”

“I wasn’t aware that Guardians were aloud to keep pets.”

“I asked Ikora, and she said there wasn’t a rule on it so Ann got to keep him. I’d get a cat if I wasn’t caught up with missions all the time.”

“I think you could take care of one.”

“I don’t think so. There are some days when I’d have a lot of work to do on the field, so I’ll just stay in my ship and sleep there, sometimes for days at a time. With the Cabal problem, I have a feeling that that’ll happen a lot sometime soon.”

“I’m at the Tower almost all day. I think I’d be able to leave my spot and go feed it a few times, make sure it has water.”

“Maybe I’ll get one someday, probably when things calm down.”

The door opened again, startling me. Ann was in the doorway, grinning.

“It’s snowing!” She exclaimed.

I took my final bite and stood up, then walked outside. Sure enough, snowflakes were falling to the ground.

“Huh, it usually doesn’t snow at the beginning of the year like this. Not saying it isn’t welcome.”

Crow stepped up beside me and leaned over the railing, looking up at the sky. Ann joined him, but stuck her tongue out to catch a snowflake or two.

“It looks like it’ll be coming down harder soon.” Scout said, flying up beside us with Glint.

The sun was starting to go down and it was starting to get colder.

“I’m gonna keep heading home.” Said Ann. “See you both tomorrow!” She bounded off with a wave.

“You should probably go too before the snow picks up.”

“Nah, I think I’ll be fine if I stay here for a bit. I want to watch one of those movies you’re always talking about.”

“Which one?” Asked Scout, knowing that I talked about many.

“Uh, that one with the pirates.” He snapped his fingers, trying to come up with the name.

“Pirates of the Caribbean?” I asked.

“Yes, that one!” He said nodding. “It sounds very interesting.”

“Alright, well come on in.”

I just barely heard Scout say to Glint, “How much you want to bet that he’s hoping they get snowed in so he can hang out with her for the rest of the night?”

#destiny 2 #destiny #destiny guardians #destiny game #crow x guardian #crow x young wolf #young wolf x crow #young wolf #destiny young wolf

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