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myblueeyedbuggers · 3 years

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My Boys

Chapter 9

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairings: Reader x Steve Rogers (best friend) Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 1851

Warnings: Slow Start, Language, Tiny bit of Fluff

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change

So, hi again…I’m gonna be completely honest I’ve practically had no time to sit down and write for the past couple of weeks, college rained down tons of assignments and work kept asking me to do extra shifts. Hopefully you all understand the delay in updates, I’m determined to finish this book for you all, anyways I’ll shut up Enjoy 😊

Whoever decided to wake me up and drag me away from the glorious land of sleep will suffer my early morning wrath, slowly I opened my eyes and the outline of two very stupid and annoying boys filled my vision. “Have you two never heard the saying don’t tickle a sleeping dragon? I quite clearly need my beauty sleep!” why is it every time I threaten to murder these two they just start laughin’? what the hell is wrong with em?!, “ Well good mornin’ to you too doll face, as much as I’d like to stay here and trade threats mama wants you outta bed for breakfast so get ya butt moving” My eyes narrowed at Bucky as he started to follow Steve outta the room, the smirk on his face widening as I reluctantly moved out of bed.

I’ve only been here a week and I’ve nearly killed him at least 50 times, wait that’s not something I should be proud of is it? in my defence Barnes can be a right little shit when he wants to be! Two days ago, he thought it’d be funny to drench me with water in the middle of the day, it’s safe to say he didn’t climb down the tree for a fair few hours. The smell of bacon and pancakes made me completely forget whatever the hell I was talking about, I shouldn’t have rushed pulling my pants on cause my dumbass failed to see that the left leg got caught on the draw knob and I was once again hugging the floor with my bloody face. Great that didn’t hurt at all!

Right let’s check for damage, bruises? Nope scratches? Nope pride and dignity? That went a long time ago who am I kidding? “Y/N You comin down or what?!” Jesus Christ that boy has a voice like a flipping fog horn, I wouldn’t be surprised if they heard Steve in queens! “Yeah give me a minute will ya! No need to get your panties in a twist Stevie” I’m pretty sure I can hear Becca and Bucky laughin’ from up here. Okay enough time’s been spent getting dressed, at this rate the boys will have inhaled all the food…the thought alone is enough to terrifying!

“Right you lads better of left me at least one pancake and 3 strips of bacon or they’ll be hell to pay later” as a rule most people say good morning but I like to start the day with a decent dashing of threats and insults, cause I’m a friendly person…okay nope that’s a big pile of bullc**p and I know it. “Well mornin to you too y/n, the pancakes are on the table and the bacons on Bucks plate feel free to take some” a muffled sound of protest could be heard over my laughter as Bucky shot Steve a look of utter disbelief. “I think I’ll skip on the bacon then Stevie, by the looks of it Bucks already drooled all over it” Steve and I shared a look before we burst out laughing, Buck was glaring at the both of us with syrup dribbling down his chin and I gotta be honest it looked hilarious. “You guys done laughin’ at me yet or would you like to gang up on me some more?” is this boy dumb or somethin’? “Buck, I’d be on my deathbed and my final words would be some form of insult towards you”.

And there I go signing my death sentence again, at this point Steve wasn’t even on his chair anymore, instead he was lying on the floor completely pissin’ himself laughing while Bucky slowly stood up and started walking round the table. “Oh would you look at the time! Gotta go guys my appointment with the grim reaper’s in a minute!” hey y/n maybe it’s time you start running?! With a small shriek I turned and bolted out the backdoor with a pretty pissed off Barnes boy on my tail. The sunlight blinded me for a couple of seconds, so I was kinda running without knowing what was around me…and as per usual life decided to firmly kick my ass using the form of a bloody tree. A sharp stinging sensation spread across my entire face, huh reminds me of when I ran into that door…only that didn’t hurt half as much and there wasn’t an annoying brunette prick absolutely creasing with laughter behind me. I’m pretty sure that in the process of the tree b**tch slappin’ me I cut the left side of my cheek…oh would you look at that there’s the blood that should have stayed inside me, I couldn’t stop the small groan of pain that slipped outta my mouth, the lower half of my back was more than likely battered to all hell and the stinging in my cheek wasn’t helping either.

Apparently, the sound of my suffering seemed to break the idiot outta his little laughin’ session, I raised my eyebrows at him when it finally dawned on him that I hurt myself and that was pretty funny, all the colour drained from Bucky’s face, his eye’s widened when he noticed the lovely new edition to my face and pretty soon he reached a hand out to help me up. Such a gentleman… that’s if you replace the gentle bit with idiotic. The second I was on my feet, he pulled me into a hug and began checking my face and head, I’m hoping to god he can’t see my flamin’ cheeks cause I know for a fact he would never let me live that down. To be completely honest all I could concentrate on was the gentle touch on his hands on my cheek and the look on Bucky’s face, his eyes were completely focused on my cut. How have I never noticed that his eyes have the smallest flecks of green in them? Or how his dimples show when he frowns?… more importantly why do I feel both excited and terrified but somehow warm at the same time?

My little daze was broken when I realised that his lips were movin’ and I had no idea what the hell he just said, but he must of asked me a question cause he was lookin’ at me waitin’ for his answer. Bollocks. “What’d you say Buck?” Jesus Christ could I have been anymore obvious?! Maybe I should make a giant banner and smack him in the face with it, oh for godsake am I blushin’ again?!, the small smirk on his face grew into a sh*t eating grin as he threw his arm around my shoulders and dragged me back to the house. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say that you y/n were completely blow away by the masterpiece that is my face” oh great I’ve managed to inflate his ego even more, “Actually I wasn’t gonna say anythin’ but you’ve got a little somethin’ stuck in your front teeth” and just like that all the cockiness drained outta his body.

The arm around my shoulder disappeared rather quickly, to my amusement the boy next to me did as well, I could feel the little smirk on my face as I carried on walkin’ forward as he stayed behind more than likely doin’ that cute stupid thing with his eyes. Wait what did I just say?! What the heck is wrong with me these days? Its like a flippin’ alien’s taken over me and made me into a normal girl! .It feels all kinds of wrong. A sudden cough disrupts my inner monologue, my eyes roll to the sky as the smirk reappears on my face, I can’t help the laugh that escapes me when my gaze meets Bucky’s. He was stood with his hands on his hips, his eyes narrowed as I continued to laugh and slowly his face formed a pout as he waited for me to finish completely wetting myself with laughter. “You done yet?” his brow was pulled in as he tried to fight off the smile, “Do I actually have somethin’ in my teeth or were you just being a bully?”.

“Nah, just needed to keep your ego in check before it inflated and carried you away into the wind” Buck looked like I’d just shot him in the chest, I had to bite my lip to stop myself from laughin’ at him as I turned and started walkin’ back to the house. “Ya know you can be a real piece of work when ya wanna be don’t ya?” thank you captain obvious! “I know I am, you know I do it out of love don’t ya?” I shot him a small smile as I wrapped an arm around his back and pulled him in for a side hug, Bucky shook his head with a small smile, but accepted the hug anyway. After that we stayed in a comfortable silence as we walked back towards the house, his arm never pulled away from me till we got inside, that was until Mrs Barnes walked into the kitchen and saw the cut on my cheek, to simply put it she completely freaked out.

I watched her quickly shoo everyone outta the kitchen, she somehow managed to pull a chair out and sit me down while grabbing a towel and bandages, question after question was fired at me while she gently started cleaning to cut. After a while the conversation died out, Mama B was completely fixated on cleaning the cut and if I’m honest the silence was peaceful, well it was for the 5 seconds it lasted.

Bucky burst through the door lookin’ like someone was trying to murder him, not that I could blame them, 2 seconds later Steve and Becca burst through the door armed with…wait is that eyeshadow and lipstick? I watched as Bucky backed into the corner, his eyes wide as he begged them both of them for mercy, whatever he did to piss the pair off clearly warranted this man hunt and there is no way in hell I wanted to stop it just before it got good. Soon enough Becca and Steve some how managed to pin down Buck, and despite the many protests, the pair managed to smear the lipstick all over his face and dump most of the eyeshadow in his hair.

I tried my hardest not to laugh I swear, but he looked like a very disturbed and demented fairy princess and I couldn’t hold it in anymore, soon enough we were all having a little laugh at the poor bloke, eventually Buck saw the funny side of it and he too joined in with the mess that was the Barnes family.

So, I’m gonna be honest here this is more of a filler chapter/character development hopefully it didn’t suck as much as I think it did XD Okay I’ll stop rambling, Thanks for reading!

Rose Xxx

#winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #captain america x reader #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #mcu #fanfic #reader #reader insert #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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horansqueen · 4 years

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You & Me : chapter 24

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4.3k - 4.5k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- notes: idk what to say tbh, not even sure ppl read these notes lol. well, i hope it was an okay chapter?

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! : one but i sort of changed it a bit!

Chapter 24 : Her chapter

OLIVIA

We fell asleep together in his bed but I woke up in the middle of the night and stared at him for god knows how long. I didn't want to tell him what I did for many reasons, but mostly because I didn't want him to feel guilty. It was not his fault, he had every right to break up with me if he was not feeling the relationship anymore, and i'm the one who had swallowed those pills. Niall was not to blame and I knew it, but I was scared he'd feel bad if he found out. To imagine being weak like that in front of him was also not something I wanted. I was not really ready to let anyone see me that weak, but I was glad Louis had found me on that night. I was glad I was still there, because it made me realize I had a problem and I was lucky enough to have someone to help me with it.

I brought my hand to Niall's cheek and ran my fingertips on it gently, making him groan low. God I loved him. Just looking at him made me want to throw everything away and give myself to him, but I knew it was a pattern I couldn't fall back into and I had to be careful. Of course I had changed, and I had matured, and learned to love myself the way I was. I had worked on myself to trust me, and trust that I was worthy of love, even Niall's, and that my body didn't define me... but all of this didn't mean that I didn't question myself sometimes. It didn't mean that I couldn't doubt myself, or that it was easy to resist throwing myself into Niall's arms. I loved him like I have never loved anyone in my life. Did I ever love anyone else in my life?

It took me a while to fall back asleep but when I finally woke up for the second time, I kept my eyes closed and whimpered, reaching out to touch him until I realized he was not in bed with my anymore. I grimaced, my eyes still closed, and forced myself to sit up. It smelled like coffee and I smiled, stretching and opening my eyes before putting sweatpants and his t-shirt on, going to the bathroom and then walking to the kitchen. Niall was there, facing the counter as he was pouring coffee in two mugs and he glanced at me, sending me a smile.

"'Morning, how did you sleep?"

The sound of his voice made my lips curl and I walked up to him, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind and leaning my cheek on his back.

"You weren't there when I woke up." I replied with a pout that he couldn't see.

He laughed. "I'm right here!"

I hugged him tighter and when I loosened my embrace, he pushed the air out of his lungs and laughed again, turning to me and leaning his ass against the counter. My hands reached for the front of his shirt and I got on my tiptoe to reach for his lips. He tasted like coffee and I smiled against his mouth.

"You're on your second cup?" I asked, making him smile more.

"Yea you slept a lot." he pointed out before pressing his lips against mine again. "You seemed tired, I didn't want to wake you up."

I looked into his eyes and a fond smile appeared on my lips. I couldn't tell him I was tired because I spent over an hour staring at him in the middle of the night, could I?

"About last night, I want to thank you for sharing that with me." he said, glancing down before looking right in my eyes. "Thank you for trusting me. I'm so sorry I made you feel like that. I'm so sorry. I knew I had hurt you, but I never thought you were so... sad after I left. I never thought me dating someone else would hurt you that much."

"It wasn't you fault." I replied after breathing it. "It was me. It was my pain, my insecurities. It was my problem and my decision to do that. A bad and wrong one, a decision I'll never make again, but it was no one's fault but mine. You could date whoever you wanted, Niall. You didn't owe me anything."

"I'm still sorry. I'll always take part of the blame for that. But you promised you would never do that anymore, remember?" he added, raising his eyebrows. I just nodded with a soft smile and he smiled back. "Good, just a reminder."

We just looked at each other with loving smiles for a while and I felt something in my stomach. I was not sure if it was love, lust or affection... or maybe all of those feelings at the same time. All I knew was that they were all directed at him.

I felt the fingers of one of his hands run in my hair and smiled more, letting my hands run down his chest as I kept staring in his eyes. I always felt the need to be close to him and touch him and when one of my hands reached his dick, he groaned low and the grip in my hair tightened.

"Don't be a tease, petal." he whispered, making me bite my bottom lip hard.

"I'm always too horny to be a tease, you're the tease."

He chuckled and he pulled gently on his hand, making my head tilt back a bit more as my hand kept stroking his cock slowly over his sweatpants.

"I just think it's been way too long since I put your cock in my mouth, what do you think?" I whispered, sending him an amused smile. "Let me get on my knees for you."

His smile faltered and his eyes roamed on my face for a few seconds before he let go of my hair, his arm falling on his side. Quickly, I took my shirt off and his eyes fell on my breasts, making me hold my breath. It was not my best feature but the way he stared at them avidly made my heart jump in my chest. I let my shirt fall on the floor and got down on it, trying to save the pain on my knees that the cold hard floor could give me. I kept my gaze locked with his again for a few seconds and then looked away, trying to focus on his cock. I pulled his pants and boxers down, feeling my pussy throb at the sight of how hard he was but something else caught my attention. Something was not like it used to be and it had nothing to do with his dick. I frowned but my lips parted and I had to blink a few times to understand what exactly was written.

"Oh my god." I whispered, bringing a finger to it and brushing the tip of it on his skin. "Did you get a fucking tattoo?"

I glanced up and he was looking down at me with a frown. I opened my eyes wide and he grimaced, letting out a low groan.

"Darling, please, can't you see how fucking hard I am?" he pointed out. "You were about to do something?"

"I'm sorry but I can't do anything before I get an explanation.." I admitted with a nervous chuckle. "That's literally my name there?"

"I was drunk, found an old letter you wrote me, decided to get your name tattooed just like you tattooed mine." he explained quickly with a shrug. "Now your mouth? Please?"

My smile grew and I licked my lips. "Why this spot?"

"It was the only spot I could think of that wouldn't be visible for anyone, or almost."

"You... you hate tattoos." I just replied, shaking my head.

"I do not hate tattoos, I just never wanted to get one. I didn't see the appeal. And I still don't." he admitted, staring down at me. "But it's your name, and it's you, and I love you. I don't regret it, and I think it's just.. fair."

I pressed my lips together and swallowed hard, tilting my head. "What a guy wouldn't say to get his cock sucked."

"I mean it, Olivia."

I felt my heart jump in my chest and my gaze moved back to the tattoo on his skin. It was not even swollen anymore but even if it was small, I couldn't pretend it didn't make me feel special.

"Seriously, Nee, I can't see my name written near your cock every single time I give you a blowjob!" I chuckled, half-joking.

"Well, get used to it!"

I laughed a bit louder before realizing he was still just as hard despite the whole discussion we just had and quickly, I brought my mouth closer, running my tongue on his length gently and reaching the base before moving it down to his balls. I heard him groan as I sucked on one and when I moved back to the tip of his cock, I looked up only to see his head had fallen back slightly. He was holding himself with both hands on the counter and I just wrapped my lips on his tip to suck on it. His fingers gripped the counter harder and I grabbed his dick in my hand, pushing his skin and running my tongue between it and his tip. One of his legs tensed and he let out a few curse words in a whisper.

"Don't stop petal." he murmured as I kept doing that for a minute or two before taking him completely in my mouth. "Fuck, I want to cum in your mouth so bad."

He pushed his hips in motion with my head movements and just hearing him groan was making me horny. I kept thinking about the last time we fucked in his kitchen and it made me moan low as I was still sucking him hard. I finally moved away to bring my lips back around one of his balls as I kept stroking his cock harder and when he whispered 'I'm gonna cum', I moved back and stuck my tongue out. He looked down at me and I stared back, making sure the tip of his cock was brushing on my tongue as I jerked him off. It only took a few seconds and when a grunt escaped his lips, my heart jumped in my chest. He came on my tongue and lips, some of his cum also ending on one of my cheeks, and it made me realize how much I had missed pleasuring him.

"Jesus Christ." he whispered, his eyes shut tight. I took him in my mouth again, sucking him gently and slowly as I saw his grip loosen on the counter and his eyes open again. His lips curled into a smirk and he licked his lips. "Oh you look so good like that."

He bent down slightly and gathered the cum on my cheek before bringing it to my lips. I sucked on his finger as he stared at me and when he moved his upper body up again, I got closer and my eyes fell on his tattoo again. Slowly, I brushed my thumb on it and without thinking, I pressed my lips on his skin before getting up. He sent me a fond smile and chuckled as he moved his pants up.

"Did you just kiss my tattoo?"

"I did." I whispered, pressing my lips together.

He bent down and kissed me gently, cupping my face and slipping his tongue in my mouth. It always made me smile how he didn't care that I had his cum in my mouth just a few seconds before, and that he would kiss me anyway without even a second of hesitation.

"I haven't had a blowjob like that in..." he stopped himself and raised his eyebrows before chuckling low. "In over a year."

"Was it worth the wait?" I asked with an amused smile as he grimaced.

"Yes, but please don't make me wait an other year for the next one, okay?"

I laughed and shook my head as he moved his hands around my waist.

"You can always ask." I pointed out with a shrug. "Or, you can grab me by the hair and force me down on your cock."

The way he looked at me with lust made my heart skip a beat and he turned us around so I was leaned against the counter. He didn't say anything, he just slipped his hand in my pants and reached between my legs. He took one and held it up on his hip as I felt his fingers slip inside me.

"That made you so wet, fuck i love that." he admitted low, making my eyes flutter. "I love how much it turns you on to please me."

He started finger fucking me quickly, curling his fingers inside me and I used all my strength to keep my eyes open We looked at each other as he rubbed two of his fingertips on my clit and I held my breath as my lips parted.

"You're gonna cum, yea? I can hear how wet you are." he whispered, bringing his lips closer and brushing them against mine. "Cum darling, cum for me."

I felt an orgasm reach me and my whole body tensed as he moved closer to me, pressing his body on mine, one of his hands still holding my leg and the fingers of the other rubbing my clit as I shook against him. He moved his face in my neck and dug his teeth in my skin, making me quiver even more against him. He kept flicking his fingers on my clit slowly and gently as I came down from my high and brought his lips on mine to kiss me again.

"Next time I'm gonna spend an hour between your legs." he whispered. "I promise."

I smiled and tilted my chin. "You better."

We kept hugging and kissing for a while and I thought about the two mugs waiting for us on the counter before groaning. He moved away and frowned as I raised my nose.

"Now coffee's cold and I have bad news for you."

He frowned too and I bent down to grab my shirt and put it back on. I turned to the coffee pot and decided make fresh coffee before emptying our mugs in the sink. When I turned around, Niall was leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest and staring at me.

"I have to go back home and pack." I started, making his lips part. "I have a flight for Italy tonight and nothing's ready. I'll be gone for a few days."

"Italy?"

"Yea we're supposed to cast an Italian girl for season 3 and they asked me to go. We have an interview there too and... well, I'm also going to see Dylan."

His face changed and I held my breath, feeling my heart beating hard against my rib cage as I waited for him to say something, anything, that would tell me how he felt. I could read in his face that he was not pleased but I didn't know if it was anger and pain.

"You know what I realized when Heidi sent me that picture of you in a wedding dress?" he asked, making me frown. "I mean, not at first, I was too shocked by how stunning you looked but after an hour or so, it really hit me. It's not you? The big dress, the flowers, the music and thousands of guests with a big wedding cake and your vows in front of everyone?" he paused as I stared at him. "What happened to eloping to Vegas and getting married by Elvis?"

I licked my lips and sighed, tilting my head on the side.

"It was important for Dylan, to do the big thing in front of both our families, and I wanted to make him happy." I explained with a shrug. "I still don't like big weddings."

"So you're going to spend a few days with him?" he just asked after a while.

I didn't want to tell Niall that I was going there mostly to break up with him because I didn't want him to think I did it for him, and I didn't want him to expect anything after that. I was not ready to be with someone else, not even Niall, but it was something I needed to do. I was doing that for me, because I didn't feel ready, because it was not what I wanted anymore. Of course, Niall was part of the equation, but it made me realize that I was not only scared to jump that step, but also that I didn't want to. I loved Dylan, I really did, but things were different, and I was different too. I was a different person than the one I was when I started dating him. I was even a different person than the one I was when he asked me to marry him. I was not even sure why he even wanted to marry me anyway.

"Probably, but I'll mostly be busy with auditions, and he'll be busy with filming his new movie."

I wanted to add a 'don't worry' but I didn't dare. Niall took a few steps to move closer to me and I moved my chin up to hold his gaze.

"We'll text and call each other while I'll be gone?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"I'd love to." he confessed, bending down to kiss my lips. "I'm gonna miss you."

---

The flight was horrible and it was probably the worst 13 hours I had to go through in a long time. I grabbed my luggage after waiting for way too long and just as I was about to leave, I got a notification. I almost decided to ignore it but I stopped near a wall, dropping my bags and checking my phone. I smiled when I saw Niall had sent me a video and when I saw him sitting behind his piano, my heart melted. I hit 'play' and bit my bottom lip, leaning against the wall as I turned the volume up.

"Liv, I know you've only been gone for a few hours but I already miss you. So I thought I'd send you this. I hope you remember."

I heard the first few piano notes and I knew what it was. My lips parted and I knew I was going to cry.

“Looking back through changes Where we started from Don’t know about you but I knew it wasn’t wrong You know I kept a place For you in my mind And I know you did the same 'Cause you’re just that kind.

So if we knew all along Why did it take so long? We’ve known since we were young So why did it take so long? You know you make me feel loved Make me feel like I’m home So if we knew all along Why did it take so long?”

I felt tears run down my cheeks as his voice and the melody brought me back to a bar over 2 years ago, when Niall had told me he loved me through this song. I brought my hand to my mouth and remained motionless as I listened to it.

“Moving on You and I started looking back Now we’ve got to make up For all the wasted time You know I’d never let you just walk on by From the day that I met you I knew you’d be mine, yeah.

So if we knew all along Why did it take so long? We’ve known since we were young Why did it take so long? You know you make me feel loved Make me feel like I’m home So if we knew all along Why did it take so long?”

When the bridge started, I let out a short sob but quickly bit my bottom lip. I couldn't start crying here, in public, right? I couldn't just break into tears here because of one song.

“Just started, it’s just started I’m having trouble believing it’s true Just started, just started Now we got nothing to prove."

The chorus played again but it's only when he stopped and turned to the camera on his phone again that my heart completely melted. I let myself slide on the wall until my butt hit the floor.

"I really just wanted you to remember that. To remember that this is the first song I wrote about how much I love you, but it's not the only one, and I won't ever stop writing songs about my love for you."

He paused and looked down before looking up again.

"I love you. Come back to me."

He moved closer to his phone to stop recording but I just stayed there, looking at the static thumbnail of his video, my vision blurry and my heart swollen. I loved him so much I just wanted to turn around and take an other plane to him.

"Are you okay?"

Quickly, I looked up at the voice and blinked a few times only to nod at the security guard that was frowning at me. I must have looked totally desperate because I was pretty sure it was not the first time he saw someone cry at the airport.

"Do you need me to call you a cab or something?"

I sniffed and wiped my tears before quickly getting up. I knew I looked like a mess. That reflected very well how I felt.

"Uhm, no, thank you. There's supposed to be a car waiting for me."

It took me half an hour to reach my hotel and I unpacked a few things. I had brought the stupid pink bear Niall had won for me and put it on the large bed along with one of my pillows before taking my phone to text Dylan. I could feel my heart thump so hard in my chest I felt like I was about to have a heart attack.

"I'm here, we really need to talk."

---

"You can't be serious."

I blinked a few times, staring at Dylan, as he reached for my hands on my lap and I let him take them and squeeze my fingers. I had decided to go see him at his apartment and I couldn't pretend the sight as I was on the road didn't shock me. The sight from his apartment was even prettier and I took a mental note to visit this country again. Perhaps, with Niall?

"I'm.. so sorry." I replied with a frown, looking down at his hands holding mine.

I suddenly felt insecure about my decision. After all, Dylan and I were happy, right? We had been happy since day one. He was a sweetheart, a gentleman and he was funny, and sensitive. He was laid-back, soft, and he was always there for me. He was the first and only person to break my walls after Niall broke my heart and also, and I hated to say it, he has been extremely important in my therapy process. How could I leave someone who literally put me back together and be in love with someone who completely tore me apart?

"Okay, you don't want to get married anymore, I understand." he pointed out, shaking his head slightly. "It was too soon, maybe, I get it. But we don't have to break up.."

I pressed my lips together and looked up at him, trying not to cry.

"We do, we have to." I let out low so my voice wouldn't break. "I'm not into this fully anymore and I don't think you are either."

"I'm just... busy here. I promise I love you just as much as I did, even more. And I miss you all the time, Olivia." he added, moving closer as I finally let tears fall on my cheeks. "Please don't cry babylove."

I closed my eyes at the nickname he always gave me and swallowed to keep the sobs in without much success. I never thought it would be so tough to actually break-up with him but it was. We had history together, and this relationship with him had been more important than any romantic relationship I ever had before, except the one with Niall's.

"I'm gonna ask for a few days off." he continued. "We can spend time here together and just... love each other again. I'm gonna do anything I can to remind you how happy we are together, I swear."

I looked up in his eyes and took my hands to bring them to his face. I shook my head and breathed in before licking my lips.

"You deserve so much better, Dyl." I admitted low even if saying those words hurt like hell. "You deserve so much better than a girl who can't be 100% with you."

His eyes roamed quickly on me and I saw him tear up.

"It's because of him, isn’t it? You're breaking up with me to be with Niall."

"No!" I closed my eyes, trying to keep my voice down. "That's not why I'm breaking up with you, Dylan I just... I can't do this anymore. I don't have a good reason for this. And I know that no matter what happens, I will be the bad guy in your story, and I think it's true. Maybe I'm the mistake you'll always regret, and maybe I'm the toxic girl you'll have fallen for. I'm so sorry to have that role in your life. That's not the part I expected to play, I promise."

"This is not a movie, Olivia." he let out a bit louder. "These are my feelings, they're real! This is my life, our life. Please, don't ruin this."

I felt my heart jump so high in my chest I was going to puke. Didn't I ask Niall the exact same thing when he broke up with me over a year ago? I brought my hands to wipe my own tears and sniffed before swallowing hard. I had to leave. I had to stop this torture, for both of us. I finally got up and he didn't stop me.

"I love you, you know." he just added as I was grabbing my purse. "Don't you love me anymore?"

"I do." I just said, turning to look at him. "That's not the problem, Dyl. And It's no one's fault."

I waited in front of the door and sight.

"Don't worry, I'll find the best Italian girl for the show. You concentrate on your movie, okay?"

"I don't give a fuck about this show anymore. Or that movie, for that matter."

I felt something twist in my chest and breathed in before sighing.

"Yea, me either."

#niall horan #niall horan smut #niall horan fluff #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan writing #niall horan story #my fanfics #yam #i seriously never know what to tag this #but i hope you like it

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richmond-rex · 4 years

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What do you think Henry VII remembers, if anything, of his other uncle Henry VI?

This is such an interesting question and something that I myself have been wondering, so thank you for providing me with the opportunity to expand my thoughts on here 🌹

We know that Henry VII only ever saw his uncle King Henry VI once during his life, when he was 13 years old. However, I’d argue King Henry must have caused quite a great impression on him, and considering Henry Tudor was old enough at that time, also a profoundly lasting one. So far young Henry Earl of Richmond had been living as a ward of his uncle Jasper’s enemies, the Herberts. By 1470 his old guardian, William Herbert, had been executed, and then, as the Earl of Warwick changed sides and brought about Henry VI’s readeption, Henry Tudor was returned to his uncle Jasper who took him to London to meet King Henry VI. That Jasper felt like acquainting his nephew with his brother denotes a special degree of closeness and advocates for his idea of family, in my opinion.

According to André, Henry VII’s court poet and self-styled regius historiographus, on 27 October 1470 Henry VI held ‘a splendid feast with the nobles and best men of the kingdom’ to commemorate his return to the throne. As the king was washing his hands, young Richmond was brought to his presence, and according to André, ‘the king prophesied that someday the boy would undertake the governance of the kingdom and would have all things under his own power.’ Polydore Vergil, a historian that began his service under Henry VII in 1506, wrote in his Three Books that in that 1470 meeting ‘the king... is reported to have said:’

“This truly, this is he unto whom both we and our adversaries must yield and give over the dominion.”

It seems not even Vergil lends much credence to this tale as expressed by his choice of words: reported to have said. As expected, this myth has largely been viewed as Tudor propaganda and indeed the episode has been immortalised in Shakespeare’s Henry VI part III. In the play, King Henry VI meets a toddler Henry Richmond (then escorted by Somerset), calls him ‘England’s hope’, and says Richmond was ‘Likely in time to bless a regal throne’. Given that King Henry VI had his own son Prince Edward as his heir at the time, it seems unlikely he would ever have said such a thing. However, if anything remotely close to that happened, then I agree with Leanda de Lisle in saying that it must have been King Henry VI taking Henry Tudor to be his own son Edward, who thanks to his imprisonment in the Tower he had not seen for five years (and would not ever see again). It’s absurdly sad to think King Henry VI would confound his nephew with his son but arguably also not out of the realm of possibility. We don’t know if Henry Tudor saw his uncle King Henry again, but it’s also not unlikely that he, his mother and uncle Jasper stayed at court for the feast of All Hallows’ (1 November) and All Souls’ Day (2 November).

If King Henry VI ever made such prophecy, wittingly or not, then it must have greatly impacted on Henry Tudor. Henry VII believed to have been chosen by God to, against all odds, become king of England. He once wrote about ‘the crown which it has pleased God to give us with the victory over our enemy at our first field’. Henry Tudor was reported to be very pious—he made pilgrimages to the shrine of St Thomas Becket at Canterbury every Easter, as well as frequent pilgrimages to the shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham and donations to the shrine of St Vincent Ferrer in Brittany. He also founded the cult of the Breton saint St Armel in England and boosted the teachings of St Francis by his patronage of the Franciscan order. He especially favoured the Observants (the Franciscans, also known as the Greyfriars), granting them annuities for the establishment of monasteries in England and abroad. It seems he also favoured staying at religious houses when travelling or going on progress around the kingdom.

Most importantly, Henry VII held a singular devotion to the Virgin Mary and his adoption of the red rose as his personal symbol—aside from dynastic reasons—had everything to do with the religious connotations of that flower. Henry VII could have associated himself with his uncle Henry VI by adopting his antelope badge, for example, but instead, he chose the five-petal flower associated with the Virgin Mary and the Passion of Christ. The Franciscans were noted for their devotion to the Passion, and Henry VII had come in contact with the Observants during his exile in Brittany. The rose had five petals like the five wounds of Christ—St Bernard of Clairvaux once stated: “As many wounds as there are on the Saviour’s body, so many roses are there! Look at His feet and His hands; do you not see roses?”

Forgive me for still going on a tangent about it, but Henry VII’s personal devotion to the Virgin Mary and the doctrine of her Immaculate Conception is exemplified in his Book of Hours, where a miniature shows a figure representing the king kneeling at a prayer desk before a vision of the Virgin as a baby held by her mother, St Anne (or, alternatively, The Virgin and the Child Jesus). His devotion to the Virgin was also highlighted in his rebuilding of the Lady Chapel (now Henry VII’s Chapel) at Westminster Abbey which I will return to in a moment.

I’m not sure but I think it was Vergil who reported Henry VII as having said that religion was his ‘continual refuge’ during exile. His piety has been largely attributed to the influence of his mother Margaret Beaufort, herself also a very pious woman. But given how many years—and formative years those were—they spent apart, I imagine that Henry must have looked up to someone closer to him at the time, namely his uncle Jasper Tudor. We know that after the death of Catherine of Valois Jasper and his brother Edmund were raised by nuns at Barking Abbey, and that then at some point they joined King Henry VI’s court. According to John Blacman, Henry VI’s biographer and chaplain writing in 1485:

[…] and like pains did [Henry VI] apply in the case of his half-brothers, the Lords Jasper and Edmund, in their boyhood and youth; providing for them most strict and safe guardianship, putting them under the care of virtuous and worthy priests, both for teaching and for right living and conversation, lest the untamed practices of youth should grow rank if they lacked any to prune them.

Blacman also claimed that the king personally protected his half-brothers from sexual temptation by keeping ‘careful watch through hidden windows of his chamber’ (yes, I know). Like his uncle King Henry VI, Henry VII would also set a court that ‘maintained the highest standards of sexual behaviour’. Indeed, Retha Warnicke made an extensive compilation of scandals during the first two Tudor reigns and not a single case of sexual misconduct was found to have taken place during Henry VII’s time, marking his court as a decidedly different one than Edward IV’s had been.

Going back to Henry VI’s supposed prophecy, his words surely must have acquired a great weight in Henry Tudor’s mind by 1483 when he made his bid to the English throne. By that time King Henry VI had become a popular saint in England and even though Edward IV had tried to have him modestly—and somewhat obscurely—buried in Chertsey Abbey, Surrey, people had started to flock to his grave. A peasant claimed that Henry VI helped him when he had a bean trapped in his ear, which only popped out after he prayed to the king. Painted images of King Henry VI began showing up in churches around the country, like this one at Barton in Norfolk:

One of King Henry VI’s most ardent devotees was Henry Tudor’s mother Margaret Beaufort (Jasper’s feelings towards the cult are unknown) who had met her kinsman when she was about nine years old. When King Henry VI allegedly offered her the option of remaining married to Suffolk’s son or be remarried to his brother Edmund, Margaret says St Nicholas came to her in a dream dressed as a bishop, telling her to choose Edmund. Again, if this story is true or not, we may never know, but Margaret told that to her confessor John (bishop, then saint) Fisher—why would a famously pious woman such as Margaret Beaufort lie to her own confessor, thus committing a sin? It might be that the events took a mystical turn in Margaret’s imagination as a young girl, but that she associated divine intervention to hers and her son’s fate, and likewise to King Henry VI’s proposal, is clear.

It seems Richard III tried to control King Henry VI’s ever-growing cult by moving Henry VI’s body from Chertsey Abbey to St George’s Chapel at Windsor, a place where visitors wouldn’t have easy access to the king. Nevertheless, when Henry VII came to the throne he wholeheartedly encouraged pilgrimages to the place. Henry VII launched an official campaign to have his uncle canonised, with several petitions to popes Innocent VIII, Alexander VI and Julius II. Henry also ordered the compilation of a book of miracles worked by his uncle, and a biography of Henry VI was published in 1500 claiming that Henry VI had been ever pious and chaste during his life, towards his queen never behaving ‘unseemly ... but with all conjugal honesty and gravity’. Henry VII planned to have the body of King Henry VI re-interred at the heart of the new Lady Chapel he was planning at Westminster Abbey.

However much Henry VII enjoyed good relations with the papacy, especially Pope Innocent VIII, his campaign to have his uncle King Henry VI canonised never came into fruition. Henry VII decided for him and his wife to be buried at his new Lady Chapel instead, next to the tomb of his grandmother Queen Catherine of Valois. In his will, he stated his wish for his body to be buried:

“in the Chapell where our said graunt Dame laye buried, the which Chapell we have begoune to buylde of newe, in the honour of our blessed Lady.”

That doesn’t mean Henry VII set aside the memory of his uncle King Henry VI. He employed the same man that was overseeing the construction of the Lady Chapel at Westminster, Reginald Bray, to continue the rebuilding of St George’s Chapel at Windsor set in motion by his predecessor Edward IV (it came to be informally known as the Bray Chapel). The modest thirteenth-century chapel of Edward the Confessor was expanded into a vast cathedral-like chapel where, importantly, Henry VI’s body was placed alongside a famous relic, the fragment of the True Cross (a reliquary known as the Cross of Gneth) and the bones of John Schorne (revered for curing gout and toothache).

We may argue that Henry VII’s campaign to have King Henry VI’s canonised was fundamentally political (much like Richard II’s campaign for Edward II) as many historians have done. King Henry VI as a saint, combined with his supposed prophecy, would successfully contribute to the image of Henry VII’s reign as one chosen by God. When we put Henry VII’s religious devotion into perspective, though, his efforts to have ‘the glorious King Henry’ canonised take another dimension—in fact, there’s no doubt that in Henry VII’s eyes God had intervened in his favour. Henry VII’s will also stated his wish for an image of himself to be placed in St Edward’s chapel at Westminster, depicting him returning to God and the Virgin Mary the circlet with which he had been crowned at the Battle of Bosworth.

This is me purely speculating, but I think that even though Henry VII only came in contact with King Henry VI once in his life, his half-uncle might have exercised a great influence on him through his uncle Jasper. Jasper seemed to have been genuinely attached to his brother Henry on a personal level as well as devoted to his political cause. If Henry VI’s saintly qualities had been enough to impress Margaret Beaufort, it is very likely that they might have impressed young Henry of Richmond as well.

#ask #nuingiliath #henry vii #henry vi #sorry for going on a tangent

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Not Nineteen Forever (20) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex) - Ortega

a/n: hey hey! thank u so much if u gave a lil note or sent a bit of love my way for ch19. it was really my fav to write so far so i’m so glad it resonated with at least somebody!! there is only one more chapter to this whole fic after this and i’m emosh. after the rollercoaster ride we’ve all been on, i hope u enjoy this fun lil chapter as much as i loved writing it!

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: Brooke, Nina, Silky and Vanjie were locked in the library, and Brooke and Vanessa finally talked things out like adults.

this chapter: exams are over, dissertations are submitted, degree classifications are being allocated and the girls are nervously waiting for adult life to hit them like a freight train. what better way to avoid thinking about responsibilities than to go to the beach?

***

The day had started, as most of Scarlet’s days often do, with a message to the group chat.

Well, no, that was a bit of a lie. Scarlet’s day had started with her making breakfast, talking to her Mums over facetime as she ate it, and reassuring them that no, she hadn’t found out her degree classification yet and when she did they’d be the first to know. It was hard beginning each day with her heart in her mouth, frantically checking her phone to see if the website had been updated and then trying to relax when she found out it hadn’t been. Scarlet tried not to think too much about it, post-Uni life that is, but with each passing day it became an unignorable fact that she had to face. Graduation season was a mere month away and Scarlet didn’t want to face it but she had to, because the reality was that Scarlet didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life. Not a single clue. Gone were the days of six-year-old Scarlet, who spent the mornings being an actress with a short break at lunchtime to develop her career in the veterinary sector and finishing the day off creating new play-dough recipes for her Michelin-star restaurant. High school had been so good at pushing everyone into a university-shaped mold but now that Scarlet had completed her three years there she felt a little like the aquarium fish in Finding Nemo once they had escaped their glass box: stuck in a plastic bag bubble, thrown out into the vast, unexplored ocean, and simply asking herself now what? Really, what could she do with a Philosophy degree? Everyone asked her the same question when she’d been making her UCAS choices and now here she was asking herself the same thing. She wished she could remember what 18-year-old Scarlet had replied. Her Mums had been surprisingly supportive of the whole endeavour, but then again they had probably been happy to have their pouty, whining teenage daughter out of the house. Funny how times change, Scarlet thought to herself as she squeezed a generous dollop of washing-up liquid onto the sponge and dunked her empty plate into the hot water she’d filled the sink with. Her Mums had just been on the phone encouraging Scarlet to move back home while she decided on what to do next. It was tempting, but the prospect of being back in the country all isolated and away from her friends and Yvie and the exciting busy-ness of the city didn’t exactly fill Scarlet with glee.

Hearing her phone buzz against the counter, Scarlet almost smashed her newly-dried plate in her haste to read the notification just in case it was an email about her classification. It wasn’t. It was, however, a message from the girls. Nina, to be precise.

Kim Kardashian-West: GUYS it’s meant to be the SUNNIEST day today and Monet’s flat are all going to the beach!!! we should all go too!

Scarlet frowned, looking at the decidedly grey sky. It didn’t exactly inspire much hope.

Yvie’s bitch: Are you sure you’re reading the forecast for today? It looks a bit grey outside xxxx

Kim Kardashian-West: Scarlet I’m a primary teacher. A basic knowledge of the days of the week are kind of an entry level requirement

cursed SatNav voice: Am I FUCK going to sit freezing my ass off on the sand watching the rain piss down all around me!!

cursed SatNav voice: If i wanted to get soaked I would just call Brooke xoxo

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: No.

cursed SatNav voice: Ain’t that right @Brooke Lynn Hytes

Maple Syrup: you know it bby xoxo

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: Hell. I’m in hell.

Scarlet snorted a laugh. Akeria could well have been joking or deadly serious. Looking up and out of the tiny little window that was positioned beside the sink, Scarlet swore she could see a small ray of sunshine fighting through the clouds. She tilted her head, considering Nina’s offer.

Okay Then: yes i am absolutely down to get blackout day drunk today

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: Bitch it’s 11am who hurt you

Okay Then: listen this is perhaps the only time of our lives where we have literally no responsibilities at all. i’m getting drunk

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: I sent off nine masters’ applications yesterday.

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: No responsibilities my ass

Okay Then: well as huge as it is, i’m sure even it could use a little sun xo

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: WHY ARE YOU HOES ALL SO SENSIBLE AND GLOOMY? I’M WITH PLASTIQUE LET’S GO GET DRUNK

Maple Syrup: Ooooh now you mention it a fruity cider would go down so well right now

Yvie’s bitch: Yeah go on then, I’m down!! Xxxxxxx

Scarlet’s bitch: Scarlet it’s literally 13 degrees outside you’re insane

Scarlet’s bitch: but admittedly you are also my girlfriend who i love very much

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: EW

Scarlet’s bitch: so if you’re down i’m down

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: UGH fine i’ll go if all you idiots are too

Kim Kardashian-West: AAAH you guys this makes me so HAPPY!!!

Kim Kardashian-West: We only need Vanjie for a full house

Maple Syrup: Vanjie if you come I’ll let you suck my dick

cursed SatNav voice: How big is it

Maple Syrup: 2.75 inches when fully erect

Maple Syrup: Invisible to the human eye when flaccid

cursed SatNav voice: Hard pass

Scarlet’s bitch: Jesus Harvey Christ

cursed SatNav voice: But you bitches convinced me so i’m in

It turned out that most of the girls were still in their pyjamas, much like Scarlet, so they were given an hour to shower and make their way there. They were lucky that the city sat on the coast, and although much of the coastline was dedicated to harbours and pebble beaches there was one little beautiful strip of sand that lay about a half-hour bus ride out to the suburbs. Yvie and Brooke were getting a lift from Plastique and so they offered the last seat to Scarlet, but Scarlet didn’t want to take the girls out of their way. Besides, the sun was peeking out a little stronger now, and if it was to fully appear then it would be perfect weather for earphones, a summer playlist, and looking out of a bus window pretending she was in a music video.

Stepping outside of her flat, Scarlet was glad she’d ended up choosing dungaree shorts and a plain white t-shirt. It was definitely warmer than it looked, and she had to sweep her hair up into a ponytail to stop her neck getting too hot. She stopped off at the corner shop for a four-pack of cider (Brooke’s message had made her want some) and then walked over to the bus stop, where she managed to get one after not too long of a wait and sat on the top deck, letting the growing rays of sun fry her through the window. Once she was off the bus, she checked her phone for the meetup point. Nina, Monet and her flatmates were sat on the sand “around 10 metres in front of the chippy. But Monet has no concept of measurement so it’s anyone’s guess, really.”. Scarlet didn’t mind a small walk to find them. The promenade was packed with people all dressed in Summer clothes, the pavement giving off that smell of hot gravel which always reminded Scarlet of hot days and happy memories. The platinum-white sun cast its rays over the deep blue of the sea so that little diamonds sparkled against the waves, all tumbling over each other lazily and every so often giving a satisfying crash which mingled with the sounds of dogs barking and children giving happy cries. Scarlet found the chip shop but couldn’t see the girls amongst the mass of bodies laid out on the golden sand, so she shot Nina a text. As she waited for a reply, Scarlet took a deep breath and was hit with the unmistakable smell of the sea and chippy batter combining at once. She was a Winter person- she preferred frosty mornings and dark twinkly nights and getting cosy with a searing hot coffee and her duvet, but she loved how happy Summer seemed to make everyone, the sense of community that came with a hot, sunny day. Once Nina had given the other landmark of “there’s a guy with an inflatable sofa to our immediate right”, Scarlet managed to find the girls with no trouble and she was soon dashing towards them excitedly and letting out an embarrassingly childish squeal as she reached Nina and crashed into her in a hug.

“Scarlet!” she greeted her cheerfully, much of her face obscured by a huge floppy woven sunhat. Breaking out of the hug, she turned to address Monet’s flatmates. “Guys, you remember Scarlet, right?”

There was a chorus of welcoming noises as the other girls greeted her, some more distractedly than others. Cracker was busy rubbing her arm with a thick streak of white sunblock which seemed to have the same consistency as double cream, Bob was laid out against a bright pink beach towel with a set of huge sunglasses over her eyes, and Monique was trying her best to remove the cork from a bottle of cava. Monet was by Nina’s side, her head resting against her girlfriend’s shoulder as she stretched her legs out and buried her feet in the sand.

“Hey, congrats for finishing uni, Miss Scarlet,” Monet smiled at her, Scarlet smiling back despite the fact she was being reminded of adult life hurtling towards her like a bullet train.

“Thanks! Congrats to you both too. How does it feel to have an actual certified genius for a girlfriend?”

“Like I’m horrifically inferior and will never amount to anything.”

“Shut up!” Nina battered her on the arm, outraged as Monet and Scarlet shared a laugh. Nina had received a mark of 95 on her dissertation, a number that the girls had considered impossible to attain at university, but Nina had managed it. It was quite revolutionary as far as undergrad research went; a study into how well-prepared teachers felt to support transgender children in schools, with recommendations as to how to do just that within its conclusion and a call for councils to give further money and resources to the cause. “Your diss was amazing as well.”

“Yeah, what do you mean that more research into ability groupings in maths isn’t groundbreaking?” Monet rolled her eyes, laughing again as Nina protested.

“Who knew so much effort went into a primary teaching degree? I always thought your dissertation would be to…I don’t know, write a children’s book, or make a picture out of pasta spirals and glitter, or create a nursery rhyme or something,” Cracker piped up, Bob giving a snort beside her. Monet looked ready to defend her degree angrily when Nina sat up straight and fixed Cracker with an intrigued look.

“Oh, a nursery rhyme? Like…there was a young girl named Cracker, who was an incredible slacker. Her degree was dumb, so she tried to make fun, of her friends who decided to smack her.”

Scarlet let out a screech, as did Monique and Bob. Cracker could only burst out laughing and throw her hands up in defeat as Monet grabbed Nina’s face and pressed an emphatic kiss to her girlfriend’s cheek.

“Oh my fucking God, babe, I love you so much,” she laughed, wiping away a tear of mirth from her eye.

“Love you too!” Nina smiled happily, just as Monique finally got the cork out of the bottle with a satisfying, hollow pop.

“Aw, you hoes got champagne on arrival? How fancy.”

The girls turned around at the familiar voice to find Silky, Akeria and Vanjie all making their way towards them from the promenade. Excited again, Scarlet ran to hug them, namely Vanjie who she hadn’t seen since their final exam. They hadn’t spent too much time together but it had been enough time for Vanessa to elaborate on the story she’d told the girls in the group chat of how she, Silky, Brooke and Nina had all somehow been locked in the library overnight. Scarlet knew that had had something to do with the fact that she and Brooke were friends again. She didn’t know whether they’d fucked their frustrations out or actually talked like adults, but whatever they’d done Scarlet was glad about it. Whether or not they were reconnecting with a view to getting back together or not, Vanessa and Brooke were back to flirting on the group chat like high schoolers, and all was back to normal.

“Right, who’s wanting some of this? I’m not sure I got enough for everyone, though,” Monique asked loudly. Scarlet didn’t miss the way Vanessa stayed silent as the other girls clamoured for some fizz. She knew Vanjie had broken things off with Monique, whatever “things” were, and Scarlet somehow didn’t think she was enjoying being on the other side of a breakup much either.

“Did you even bring cups?” Bob asked, sitting up and quirking an eyebrow at her flatmate. Monique groaned.

“Ah, fuck, cups.”

“You absolute idiot sandwich,” Cracker rolled her eyes at her. Her eyes darted quickly to Vanessa before she stood up and grabbed her purse from her backpack. “C’mon. I’ll come to the shops with you and we can get some.”

The two girls walked away as Silky, Akeria and Vanessa all laid out what looked to be a duvet cover that they’d brought with them in lieu of a towel or blanket. Scarlet didn’t even think to question it. She knew it had been Silky’s idea without needing to ask.

“I feel like a dick,” Vanessa jerked a thumb towards Monique’s retreating frame.

“Don’t,” Monet and Bob said in unison, Nina letting out a small laugh.

“Y’all are The Shining levels of creepy,” Akeria frowned, digging out three huge bottles of beer from a shopping bag and giving one to each of her flatmates.

“Well, we’re right! You were friends with benefits, everyone knew that. It’s not Monique’s fault she caught feels but it sure as hell ain’t yours either,” Bob shrugged, ever the blunt but honest friend.

“So what is going on with you and Brooke now?” Monet asked, leaning forward and propping herself up on her elbows. Vanessa fixed her with an unimpressed look.

“Gee Monet, whatever happened to so how’ve you guys been, or how was exams, or literally any other small talk?”

“Yeah, and whatever happened to it’s none of our business?” Nina side-eyed her girlfriend disapprovingly.

“Well, girl! We’ve been in dissertation hell for a month and a half. Shit kinda got boring,” Monet shrugged semi-apologetically. “Anyway Vanjie, Monique’s away and Brooke’s not here yet and I doubt you want to talk about it when either of those two are here in front of you? And I’ve been trying to grill Neens about it but she keeps using lame excuses like we shouldn’t be getting involved and shouldn’t you be thinking about your classroom, so c’mon, bitch, spill.”

Vanessa smiled slightly, gesturing as if it was obvious. “Well, she knows I love her. And she loves me.”

Monet let out an “aaw!” at the same time Akeria let out an “ugh”. Vanjie ignored them both and continued.

“But she hurt me, so I ain’t lettin’ her get back in my good books that easy. Of course I wanna be with her, more than anything else in the world, but we need to get that trust back before I even entertain the idea.”

“So have you…y’know…had any kinky, passionate reunion sex yet?” Monet winked at her. Vanessa looked at her flatmates, a humoured smile playing on her lips.

“Akeria’s threatened to kick me out the flat if I even so much as think about it.”

The girls howled with laughter as Akeria tried to suppress a smile. “She thinks I’m joking.”

“I really don’t,” Vanjie raised her eyebrows at her, Akeria playfully shoving her onto the fluffy sand beside her and causing her to get it all up her side. “God fucking damnit, now I don’t even get to look nice when she arrives.”

“Oh, here she comes now, actually,” Silky said, nonplussed. Vanessa scowled at her.

“Quit playin’.”

Scarlet followed Silky’s gaze. “No, Vanj, she actually is.”

As Vanessa muttered a shit, Scarlet waved excitedly at Plastique, Brooke and Yvie, smiling when the latter pulled a goofy face and waved back. Plastique seemed to be carrying something huge and wooden underneath her arm.

“Lord Jesus, what the hell is she doing,” Silky shook her head as the girls came closer into view. Scarlet jumped up happily to hug her girlfriend, Brooke muttered a soft hey as she sat down next to Vanjie and hugged her, and Plastique, after she’d greeted the others, unfolded a multicoloured striped deckchair.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Scarlet let out a laugh, unsure whether to be impressed or exasperated by Plastique’s levels of extra.

“What?! It’s a sunny day, we’re at the beach, this is literally what deckchairs are for! Have fun getting sand in every possible orifice, losers,” she stuck out her tongue at them as she sat back and gave a happy sigh.

“Ariel not joining us today?” Nina asked.

“Nah, she’s gone home to see her parents. Why the hell you’d want to go home now when you could be dragging out your last month of uni life is totally beyond me, but hey.”

Yvie gave a deep laugh. “Plastique, your family have a townhouse in London, a chalet in Chamonix with membership to a private ski resort, and a literal penthouse in Dubai with an outdoor pool on a balcony. Why the fuck are you here?”

The girls all exploded with laughter, even Plastique conceding with a smile and a self-aware shrug that she was a rich bitch.

“Hey, I’m moving back in after graduation and won’t see you guys for ages, let me enjoy your shitty company.”

“You could fly us all out,” Brooke smiled hopefully, cracking the top off her bottle of cider with her keys.

“Yeah, lemme borrow twenty grand off my Mum real quick,” Plastique snorted sardonically.

Bob reached across to Monique’s cava, giving a small sip. “I’m moving home too. Gotta save money.”

“At least you both know what you’re doing,” Scarlet rolled her eyes, trying not to sound too bitter and accidentally just coming out with the verbal equivalent of black coffee. Luckily, Brooke held out her bottle and nodded emphatically.

“We can’t all have Akeria’s serial-killer levels of ambition or just walk into a job like Monet and Nina.”

“Hey! It’s a probationary year that we could literally fail if we screw up, stop thinking we have things easy,” Nina protested.

“How could you possibly fail being a teacher unless you literally boot a child in the face?” Yvie laughed in disbelief. Seeing Monet and Nina gearing themselves up for a verbal sparring match, she gesticulated wildly. “I’m kidding, ladies, I’m kidding! You work very hard and kids are little shits and you don’t get paid enough. Happy?”

“Very,” Monet rolled her eyes, accepting the cava that Bob held out to her and taking a swig before passing it to Nina.

“What’re you guys doing after uni?” Bob asked, then instantly cringed hearing the groans she got in response. “Sorry, sorry, I forgot that question is basically Satan incarnate.”

“Well, I applied to a bunch of newspapers. But the journalism industry is a shitshow anyway, so fuck knows what I’m doing or if they’ll even accept me,” Silky sighed. Her mood was decidedly flat. It was rare for her to be anything other than high-energy, volume turned all the way up to 100.

“Well, your classification might help!” Bob said comfortingly. Scarlet looked at Silky to gauge her reaction. She didn’t know if she’d been given hers yet, but the girl’s embarrassed face soon gave her an answer.

“Well I got a 2:2, so. Probably not,” she shrugged, Bob trying to backtrack apologetically. Scarlet felt bad for Silky. There was nothing wrong with a 2:2 and a degree was still a degree, but she knew how much Silky believed that despite her grades not being great, she’d still pull it out of the bag in the end, maybe manage one essay that pulled her marks up. Even though the girls were all still proud of her, it was another thing for her to let herself down.

“We’re still proud of you, Silky. You worked fucking hard and you got your degree, and that’s something to celebrate,” Nina smiled affirmingly, holding the cava out for Silky to drink. She smiled gratefully at the girls around her before accepting.

“Thanks, ladies,” she said quietly, before taking a swig. The cava seemed to return Silky back to normal, and she cried out after drinking. “An’ besides! 2:1s are boring anyway. Go hard or go home, bitch, and I’m goin’ the fuck home!”

The girls indulged Silky in a laugh. They sat for a while, chatting easily and passing the bottle of cava around, the lack of cups now not so much of a problem as it had seemed previously.

“Hey, anyone want a paddle?” Brooke asked suddenly. Scarlet gave a snort of outrage.

“You’re insane. That water’s got to be minus five.”

“Oh, come on! It’ll be fun! Vanj?” Brooke asked, her voice hopeful. Vanessa shrugged easily, casting the girl a quick smile and then dragging Akeria and Silky to their feet.

“To be fair, I am getting really warm. Getting my feet cold might be nice,” Nina reasoned out loud. Monet jumped up with her cheerfully. “Yvie, you coming?”

“Nah. Think I’ll stay here with my girl,” Yvie squeezed Scarlet’s hand, Scarlet smiling back at her happily.

“Awww, Yvie! You’re too cute,” Plastique cried sarcastically from her deckchair, the other girls laughing. She was too busy sunbathing to paddle, but Bob decided she’d follow Monet’s lead and join the others in the water. Scarlet laughed as she watched her friends tear down to the sea like children, the white spray flying into the air as they all hit the water at once.

“We’re friends with actual kids,” Yvie laughed, Scarlet nodding in agreement.

“God, we really are,” she smiled affectionately, watching Akeria take a step into the sea then jump back as if it was made of molten lava and not freezing cold water. Just as the girls had left, Scarlet became aware of two sets of footsteps approaching behind them. It was Cracker and Monique, back from the shops with a plastic bag twirling around Monique’s hand.

“Hey,” Scarlet greeted them cheerfully, then added, by way of explanation, “They’ve gone into the sea.”

“Oh, fun!” Cracker beamed. Monique picked up the bottle of cava and rolled her eyes. There was a shot-sized dribble at the bottom.

“You sons of bitches are nothing if not predictable,” she laughed, fishing a brand new bottle out of the plastic bag along with a set of cups. Yvie held her hands out apologetically and Monique shook her head, letting her know all was forgiven. Scarlet looked out to the water again. Bob had Monet on her back and Vanessa was leaping on Brooke’s, Brooke unable to catch her from the amount she was laughing. It looked as if they were about to do some sort of race or fight. Vanessa finally got onto Brooke’s back, her arms looping around her shoulders like a bush baby.

“So. That’s that then,” Monique gave a little sigh as she looked out to sea. Scarlet did a double-take as she looked at her. Her expression was mostly hidden behind her huge mirrored sunglasses, but Scarlet could see the small frown on her face. She knew who her gaze had fallen on. Scarlet felt bad for the girl.

“Hey, don’t take it personally. Vanjie thought you were great, she really did. She told me all the time,” Scarlet said reassuringly, Monique giving her a little smile of gratitude. “You know that way when you’re still hung up on someone you love. That’s all it is.”

Monique rubbed her arms, wrapping them around herself in a hug. “My own damn fault for catchin’ feelings.”

“Happens to the best of us, girl,” Yvie piped up. Cracker smiled at the pair of them gratefully, squeezing Monique’s shoulder supportively.

“We’ve been trying to tell her that.”

Monique laughed suddenly as she saw Silky chasing the girls with a huge, slimy-looking clump of seaweed she’d fished out of the water. The smile remained on her face as her laughter died down and she looked at Scarlet and Yvie inquisitively. “Brooke’s gonna treat her nice, right?”

Scarlet thought about Brooke’s helplessness after her and Akeria’s birthday weekend, her heartbroken confession of love in the toilets of the grubby karaoke bar. She watched how tightly Brooke was holding Vanessa on her back, as if to let go of her would be a crime. Scarlet smiled at Monique. “She will. I know she will.”

Seemingly satisfied, Monique kicked her sandals off and turned to Cracker. “You wanna go paddle?”

“Girl, I thought you’d never ask.”

Scarlet was satisfied staying with Yvie on the sand. They turned to Plastique only to find her napping in her deckchair, her skin beginning to take on an ever-so-slightly pink hue. Deciding to avoid Plastique’s potential wrath if they woke her up, Monique and Cracker dashed down to the ocean to join the other girls. Scarlet sat quietly with Yvie for a moment, taking in the scene of their friends all clowning around in the water.

“You still looking for jobs?” Yvie asked her. Scarlet sighed. She didn’t mind talking about post-uni life with Yvie, didn’t mind being honest about how scared and unsure she was with the person who loved her and she loved back.

“Yeah. It’s hard applying without my classification, though. And, I guess, even harder when you’ve got no idea what the hell you want to do with your life.”

Scarlet gave a self-deprecating laugh which Yvie gently joined in with. Yvie laced her fingers around Scarlet’s and gave her hand a squeeze. “You’ll figure it out, babe. There’s no time pressure on these things.”

“I know. It’s just hard when…hell, you’ve got Monet and Nina about to start their entire careers. I mean they’ll be in charge of a whole class of kids. Akeria knows what she wants to do and she’ll get there. Hell, even if Silky’s classification wasn’t as good as she wanted it, journalism is at least something she wants to go into. And Vanjie’s decided on events management. You know you want to at least do something with criminology,” Scarlet sighed, suddenly feeling so small. “It’s so hard trying to figure out what you want to do with your life when everyone around you seems to know. How the hell are you meant to know yourself?”

“Listen,” Yvie brought her thumb up to stroke Scarlet’s knuckle, calming her instantly by about 80%. “The great thing about your life is that…it’s yours. Nobody else’s. Just yours. Say you decide on a job and you hate it. Do you think you have to stay because the pay’s good and it’s something steady? No! You leave, because you can get another job. You don’t like it? You change. You want to go back to uni to doss about for another year? Do it! There is no rule to life that says you need to live it a certain way. And fuck yes, it’s scary! I’m scared! I don’t know if I’ll like any of the jobs I’m applying for, they could be so different in reality to what they are on paper. But you know I’ll support you whatever you decide.”

Scarlet’s voice was quiet as she watched the waves crash around her friends. “I just don’t want to disappoint my parents.”

“Scarlet, your parents love you unconditionally. And I’ll say it again- it’s your life. Yours. Not theirs. You can do whatever the hell you want to.”

Scarlet nodded, Yvie’s words a small comfort to her in the world that now seemed so big and scary. Yvie’s voice was quieter as she spoke again. “So…you’re going to live back home once all this is over?”

“I guess so. I don’t really want to, but I don’t want to live alone either. And it’ll help me save money, although if I don’t have a job I guess there’s not much money to save,” Scarlet snorted a laugh. She didn’t want to think about any of this, but Yvie was asking her so she gave an honest answer. Scarlet didn’t miss the way her girlfriend fell silent, nodding her head, a sad little frown on her face. She didn’t want to move away from Yvie. She didn’t want to return home. Yvie was her home.

Suddenly there came a splash from the water and Scarlet’s gaze was jolted away from her girlfriend and down to the sea. Silky had somehow fallen into the water and the girls were all howling with mirth as she screeched and tried to splash them all. Scarlet couldn’t help but join in with the laughter as she watched Akeria help fish Silky out of the water, the girl sitting in the wet sand and laughing so loudly that Scarlet could hear it even from farther up the beach. As Scarlet composed herself and her laughter died down, she turned to see Yvie looking at her, a dopey little smile on her face.

“What?” Scarlet laughed, touching her hair self-consciously. Yvie looked down at the sand, then back up to meet her eyes.

“Move in with me. After we graduate.”

Scarlet’s eyes grew suddenly wide in shock. Yvie was still holding her hand and Scarlet’s grip on hers had tightened. “Really?”

Yvie’s face was earnest, and Scarlet could see her gulp as she nodded quickly. She took a little gasp of air before explaining herself. “I mean, we both already basically live together. You’re at mine so often anyway, we know what we’re like to live with. We’ve not spent more than a full week apart since…fuck, I don’t know. I would do long distance for you, Scarlet, but I don’t want to. I want to go to IKEA and build flat pack furniture and make slow cooker casseroles and fucking…pay council tax with you. I hope you don’t…think I’m being too intense. Jesus, we’ve not even been together a year, fuck, sorry, this was a shit idea-”

“Well when you know, you know, right?” Scarlet smiled at her girlfriend, squeezing her hand. Yvie smiled back at her, reassured and happy, and Scarlet could hear the seagulls in the air and the crash of the waves and the laughter of their friends. She wouldn’t have had any other soundtrack to accompany the moment. “Yes. I’m in. Let’s get a flat together. Just the two of us. I don’t know what the fuck I want to do with my life, but I know it’s going to be a lot easier if I’m doing it with you.”

Relieved, Yvie leaned in and met Scarlet’s lips, kissing her once, twice, three times before pulling away and squeezing her hand. They met each other’s eyes and smiled, breathlessly giggling a little. Deciding to move in together didn’t seem to be the huge, relationship-changing milestone that society had hyped it up to be. It made sense to Scarlet: they loved each other, enjoyed the other’s company, they’d practically lived together for the past however-many-months. Okay, they hadn’t really hit any real speed bumps in their relationship really, but Scarlet trusted Yvie and she trusted herself. They were a team, two puzzle pieces that fit together. Whatever the crazy, scary, mixed-up adult world had in store for them after graduation, they would face it together.

Just then, Scarlet’s phone vibrated. She picked it up from its place underneath a carefully-folded corner of her towel. Opening it and reading the email, her heart dropped.

“Oh my God,” she said, her heart thudding uncontrollably.

“What’s the matter?”

“My classification’s through.”

Scarlet’s fingers were shaking and her palms were sweating as she frantically logged onto the uni’s intranet.

“Breathe. Just breathe. It’ll be fine,” Yvie reassured her, but Scarlet could feel her blood racing in her veins. She didn’t want to look. She did want to look. As the page loaded, she squeezed her eyes shut. Nothing had ever seemed so catastrophically life-defining before. The page loaded, Scarlet blinked, then she screamed. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Plastique flinch in her deckchair. Yvie’s face was expectant. Scarlet could hardly get the words out.

“A FIRST, I GOT A FUCKING FIRST!” she screeched, Yvie practically tackling her into the sand as she hugged her. Scarlet felt like her heart was about to burst. The three years had all been worth it and she felt like the biggest weight and worry in the world was finally lifted off of her. This was, admittedly, contrasted with the feeling of Plastique piling herself on top of the two girls, screaming excitedly the whole time. Scarlet suddenly batted them off of her, grabbing their hands and tugging them towards the shore.

“I wanna run into the sea! Can we run into the sea and tell the girls?”

Nodding excitedly, the three friends tore towards the coastline screeching like banshees. Scarlet could feel the wind in her hair, the sun beating down on her, and the sand shifting underneath her feet with every step she took.

She had never felt so conscious of her own mortality and yet as if she could live forever all at once.

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heyyyharry · 5 years

Text

Chapter 11: When The Morning Comes

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Be My Only)

…in which Harry has a special surprise for his girl.

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Chapter 10: Only Us - Harry’s in Paris but his heart’s in Holmes Chapel.

Wattpad link

[ANNOUNCEMENT]: I have an exam on Friday, September 13 so I won’t be able to update next week (Saturday, September 14). The next chapter will be posted on Saturday, September 21.

(I also created a Spotify playlist for this trilogy! Check it out!)

- Love, Allie.

⌲ Facetime?

⌲ Bambi: Wait, I thought you were going out?

⌲ Nah. Plans canceled.

⌲ Bambi: Oh no :(

⌲ Are you still with the girls?

⌲ Want to see you.

⌲ Bambi: Nope, I got home an hour ago. Wait a sec.

Harry lied back on his bed, peering at the bright screen in the darkness while his heart was pounding like a drum. What should he say to her? How should he begin? He had mentally prepared a script on the ride back to the hotel, but now he'd forgotten every single word as all these negative thoughts were eating away at him.

He couldn't forgive Ruby for the fucked up thing that she'd done. But what about himself? Could he forgive himself? Y/N might have kept a secret from him, but he was the one that owed her an apology. It was sad to think about all the smiles she'd had to fake to convince him that everything was fine. The worst part was, he'd believed them all.

A muscle in his jaw twitched as FaceTime rang and he accepted the call, only to be greeted by a black screen.

"Turn on your camera, Bambi," he said, frowning.

"Shhh, I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" Harry was even more confused when he heard rustles in the background. "What are you up to, kid?"

Y/N finally removed her hands and stepped away from her laptop, giving Harry the full view of the dusty blue dress she was wearing.

"This is my bridesmaid dress. I want you to be the first one to see it on me."

"Jesus Christ..." Harry muttered, smiling so big that his cheeks hurt.

Words couldn't describe how gorgeous his girlfriend looked right now. The fancy floor-length dress should've contrasted her bare face and messy hair, but on the contrary, it intensified her beauty. He wished she could for once see herself through his eyes, maybe then she would love herself as much as he loved her.

Y/N looked straight into the webcam as she adjusted the spaghetti straps and stepped closer to show him the gorgeous lace details on the bodice.

"You're perfect," he sounded almost breathless. "Gosh, you're perfect."

His reaction got her blushing but she couldn't stop grinning now.

"Do I look like a princess?" she asked and gave him another twirl with both arms rounded above her head like a ballerina. Now as an adult, she was still obsessed with tulle dresses, and Harry thought it was absolutely endearing.

"You do, baby, you do. You're my little princess."

"My prince." She bobbed a curtsy to him like the exuberant little girl he'd grown up with. And he would kill to see her like this every day, for the rest of his life.

"You shouldn't be allowed to be at the wedding, you're gonna steal all the attention away from the brides."

She rolled her eyes at his cheeky remark and plumped herself into the spinning chair. The Ruby problem still hadn't slipped his mind, and he was still mad as hell, but this certainly wasn't the right time to talk about it. She was excited, and he didn't have the heart to take that away from her.

He beamed, showing his teeth. "Maybe I'll show up as a surprise guest and steal all the attention from you."

Y/N only snorted as she assumed he was kidding. For someone who owned a private jet and big houses in so many cities in the world, Harry wasn't as free as people might think. He had to be on set almost every day for the rest of his stay in Paris, so if he wanted to attend the wedding, he would have to duplicate himself.

But a wise man once said, 'there's no problem, only solutions.' This time, Harry might have found the perfect solution.

The next morning, as he got on set, everyone wondered if something had happened to him the night before. He was talking to everyone and cracking jokes, and Evangeline, the director, told him, "keep up with that attitude and today might be your lucky day."

He hoped she was right, but so far, his day had been pretty mediocre. Sure he'd had a few happy and memorable moments during scenes and in between. But overall, mediocre. It was the thoughts about what he would do after finishing work that kept him motivated.

Acting with Ruby might be the only challenge of today. It wouldn't have been so hard if earlier that morning she hadn't had flowers sent to his trailer with a note saying she was sorry. How could she simplify what had happened with a single bouquet? Their issues were way bigger than that and too much for him to handle, so just like those flowers from her, he tossed them in the bin. Out of sight, out of mind.

At around 5 PM, Harry left the film set. Instead of going back to his hotel, he asked the driver to take him to the airport where his private jet was waiting to take him back to London. By the time he got back to Holmes Chapel after a four-hour drive, it would've been almost midnight.

As his car moved over the country road, lights on full beam, he finally understood why Y/N enjoyed long night drives so much. This was his time to let his brain roam free. He felt like the only person in this world as cars drove past him without knowing who he was. The idea of being a nobody excited him. When the morning came, he would return to London and fly back to Paris, pretending that tonight had never happened. Because tonight, he wasn't Harry Styles the movie star, he was just a nobody from Cheshire going home to visit his girl.

Meanwhile, Y/N was home and wide awake. During her first two years of college, she had spent almost every night at a different party or a club, just trying to find meanings for her life by doing crazy meaningless things. But her mindset had changed after a year without him, and now she preferred spending time alone, and of course, with him.

It was nearly half-past eleven. she was sitting on the bed, with her laptop on her lap and Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac blasting through the Bluetooth speaker on the nightstand. She couldn't call Harry for he'd told her he would be out with his team, so she decided to reread his notes and maybe write something. She had expected it to be hard to be inspired after having taken such a long break from writing, but then she ended up sitting for hours in front of her laptop, typing away effortlessly.

When the first few pebbles hit her window, she was too caught up in her own fictional world to hear it. But that was only until the biggest one nearly broke through the glass and caught her attention. She bounced off the bed and dashed to the window to see what was happening.

"Harry?!" Her eyes were wide with shock. She had to lean outside a bit further to make sure the streetlight wasn't playing tricks on her vision. But then he called, "Bambi!" And she knew she wasn't insane. He was.

"What the hell?!"

"Juliet would never use that kind of language!" He chuckled.

"And you're not Romeo," she rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Oh, wait, you know what? From this angle, you do look like young Leo in 'Romeo and Juliet'."

"Told ya!"

"Or maybe it's just the bad lighting."

Harry held up his middle finger as she tossed her head back and laughed.

"Just get down here before your dad wakes up and kills me!"

"Shit, you're right. One minute!" Giggling, she threw on a jacket over her PJ and snuck out of the house. The moment she burst through her front door, she leaped fast down the steps and straight into his strong arms.

There was the kind of hug that was brief and gentle; then there was the kind of hug that was suffocatingly affectionate, like this one, her favorite. She stood on her toes, arms draped around his neck as she inhaled the familiar scent from his shirt to make up for the last few days she hadn't got to feel him. As he leaned down, she stretched her neck for an open-mouthed kiss, clumsy yet impassioned. He nearly lifted her off the ground completely and squeezed the air out of her, but she didn't complain. She could stay like this, right here with him, until sunrise.

By midnight the darkness was almost absolute. The moon had shrunk to almost nothing and the tiny little stars scattering across the sky looked little specks of dust on a black velvet blanket. With the flashlight on their phones guiding the way, she snuck him into her backyard, and they climbed over the new fence to get into his yard. He went first and then held onto her hips to get her down.

"Have you done this before?" she asked when he turned on the outdoor lights on his back porch.

"Done what?" He arched an eyebrow in amusement.

"Sneak into someone's backyard."

"This is my backyard though."

"You don't live here anymore. It doesn't count."

"Okay, then no. Have you?" Harry wetted his lips, hands on her hips as he backed her up against one of the square columns supporting the porch. She stood with her hands behind her back and her back against the wood, her face lifted as she stared into his dark green eyes.

"Nope." She shook her head, letting him lean heavily against her and bury his face into her neck.

"Another first for us," he mumbled.

She sighed and pushed him away by his shoulders, their eyes meeting again. Her eyebrows furrowed as she told him, "you're crazy."

"Yeah," he said happily. "I’m crazy for you."

Y/N didn't say anything else. She didn't ask him why or how or when or what or any other questions relating to him showing up here. She knew he couldn't stay for long, so they shouldn't waste their time together on excessive inquiries.

"Come." He stepped back and grabbed her hand. "Wanna show you something."

Bemused, she followed him toward the fence separating their two houses. The porch lights illuminated almost two-thirds of his garden, giving them a good view of the whole lawn. Right exactly where their treehouse used to stand, was now a sapling planted in a patch of soil.

"Oh my God," she exclaimed and squatted down on the grass to observe the tiny tree as he did the same, and then she looked up, blinking her inquisitive dark eyes.

"How long has it been here?"

"Last night." He crossed both arms on top of his knees. "You said no expensive gifts, so...I bought you a tree."

"From Paris?!"

The way she screwed up her face had him chortle. "No, silly, from the shop near our school. Mum helped me plant it."

"It's so cute, baby!" She clutched her heart. "I love it so much!"

"Yeah? We can build a new treehouse on it once it's fully grown."

"But we will have been sooooo old by then."

"Then we'll build it for our children."

Harry was completely unaware of what he'd blurted out until he saw the look on her face. Her forehead creased as her lashes fluttered. Oh shit, what had he done? Why would he say that?! He had literally flown across the ocean and driven four hours back here to scare off his girlfriend with his spontaneous one-sided future plan for them. What if this freaked her out? What if she hated him? What if—

"Was that a proposal?"

"Huh?"

"Did you just indirectly propose?" she softly rephrased the question, smirking as a blush crept up his face. "I think our children will love it."

"Did you just indirectly said yes?" He released a throaty laugh.

"Maybe," she said at last, her cheekbones lifted high.

That one-word answer filled him with elation as he started grinning like a Cheshire Cat and plopped down on the grass, crossing his legs. Y/N subconsciously mirrored his posture.

"I used to dream of marrying you under that tree, right here in your backyard," she admitted, even in this light, he could still see her cheeks turning pink. Maybe that was why she couldn't look him in the eye as she spoke and had to distract herself by fidgeting with a wild flower. She went on, "I remember having this long discussion with Celine about our dream weddings during one of our sleepovers in fifth grade. We both agreed to marry the love of our lives right where we first met them, and now, ten years later, her dream is finally coming true."

"What about you?" His tone was low and cautious as he hesitated, "do you...do you still want a wedding in my backyard?" It was just him indirectly asking her if she considered him as the love of her life.

"I indirectly said yes, didn't I?"

Harry's heart leaped with joy when he heard the answer. He got up on his knees, pinned her down on the grass, and kissed her mouth desirously. They didn't mind getting their clothes dirty as they were sprawling across his yard, kissing and caressing one another. The night was young and so were they. Right now it was just them and the infinite sky above. They felt so small, but at the same time, like they could conquer the world. Was this the kind of love people would write songs and books about? The kind of love that made you feel powerful and capable of anything? Harry hoped she felt the same way because now there was fire was burning underneath his skin, but it was the type of burn that left him yearning for more. He didn't want to say goodbye, even just for another week. Could he just wrap her up in a blanket and take her with him wherever he went? He couldn't prevent that selfish thought, but he kept it to himself. She would yell at him if he suggested that she let him fly her to Paris, since she didn't even let him spoil her with expensive souvenirs.

"Do you like the gift?" he asked, and she brightened.

"I love it as much as I love you."

"Wow, that's a lot."

As he pretended to be shocked, she giggled and said, "I know."

He placed a few more pecks down her neck before rolling onto his back, holding her hand. Both turned to look at each other at the same time and dissolved into laughter at the cute little coincidence.

The next question slipped out of his mouth before he could reconsider asking. "If you're unhappy, you'll tell me, right?"

"Why would I be unhappy?" She pondered and turned to the side as he did the same, facing her.

"I don't mean right now. Everyone has those days, especially you," he said and booped her nose. "But you'll tell me, right?"

"Of course."

"Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise."

He sighed in relief when she hooked her pinky to his.

Anyone would've called him mad for putting his faith in a pinky promise, but in their world, a promise, big or small, should always remain unbreakable. So he trusted his Bambi to keep her word.

"We need to get used to each other's absence," she changed the subject after a moment, glowering at him. "It's easy to travel back and forth between Paris and London, but what will happen when you go on press tours?"

"We'll figure out a way. Don't you worry."

"I don't want to trouble you."

"You could never trouble me, kid. I don't mind traveling halfway across the world to see your face."

He ran his thumb across her pouty lip, wanting to ask her what was wrong, but she went first, "are you scared of it?"

"Of what?"

"Absence."

"Well, yeah, I am," he exhaled. "All the time." It was hard to admit it, but it did feel much better to get it off his chest.

"You know," she trailed off and bit her lip as her face relaxed. "There's a saying that 'absence is to love as wind is to fire: it extinguishes the little flame, it fans the big.'"

"Are we the big flame or the little flame?"

"We could burn this whole town down," she said, her big round eyes twinkled like stars.

Harry spread his arms and Y/N automatically shifted in to rest her head on his chest. The night air cooled their skin as soft breezes blew through their hair and clothes. His limbs gradually went numb and he was almost paralyzed from his neck down, but in a good and soothing way. He felt like he was floating and only felt like this when he was home.

"What did you get me the other day?" Her voice was clear and soft.

He looked down, beaming at her face. "Why don't you guess?"

"Shoes?"

"Christian Louboutin."

"Cheeky bastard," she snorted. "Have you returned them?"

"No, I keep them in case you change your mind. They're in my car actually."

When she narrowed her eyes, he expected a grumble, but then she gave him a shrug and said, "fine, I'll wear them to the wedding."

"That's my girl!" He pulled her right in by the arm and showered her face with kisses until she pushed him away, breathless from laughing so much. Y/N flipped onto her stomach, resting her cheek on her knuckles as she smiled down at him and he stroked her face tenderly.

"Don't forget to tell the wedding guests your rich boyfriend got you those shoes," he said.

"Oh, you mean my sugar daddy?" The corner of her eyes crinkled. "How about I tell them I met this eighty-year-old man and became his sex slave so he could pay my rent?"

"Sounds like a cool guy. What's his name?"

"Howard Stein."

"Oh God." He tossed his head back and cackled. "Imagine saying that name during sex."

"Oh, fuck me harder, Howard!" she moaned loudly, and they dissolved into laughter.

Only an hour ago it was pitch dark, but now the mist was visible, luminous. Harry knew it was time for him to go. They climbed over the fence and headed back to his car parked on her driveway. They kissed goodbye and held each other for a bit longer to make up for the lost time. He didn't forget to give her the nude Christian Louboutin pumps he'd bought in Paris. She could say she hated them but the glow in her eyes gave herself away. He was more than satisfied with that reaction.

With one last goodbye and a kiss on the cheek, he got in his car and drove away. As exciting as the journey last night had been, the one from his hometown back to London was almost depressing. The sky was cloudy and grey, probably sympathizing with what he was feeling right now. Tall buildings emerged from the mist as the city became closer. It didn't take too long for him to arrive at the airport.

Paris welcomed him back with sunlight and a clear sky, but also a crowd of fans and paparazzi waiting outside his hotel. He stopped to give a few photographs and took some photos with fans, trying his best to ignore rude questions shouted at him, such as "where did you spend the night?" and "were you with your new girlfriend?" and even worse, "did you stay with Ruby last night?"

He turned a deaf ear to them all and said goodbye to the ones who actually loved him. It was almost noon when he got to his room and shrugged off his jacket. He collapsed on the bed, arms and legs spread, thoroughly whacked out, but he couldn't fall asleep without texting Bambi.

⌲ Just got back to the hotel.

⌲ Bambi: Get some rest. You have to be on set in the afternoon, right?

⌲ Right. Fuck me.

⌲ Bambi: Later.

⌲ Gosh, you're dirty.

⌲ That's my girl.

Harry's smile slipped when an Instagram notification popped up on the top of his screen. He quickly tapped on it to open Isaac's latest post, which was a beautiful photo of the silvery skyline at dawn, probably taken that same morning. The caption said "Holmes Chapel", and both Y/N and Celine had liked the photo.

#my girl series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #older!harry #actor!harry

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whats-the-story-tc · 5 years

Text

24th of January, 2020

"The One with the Uproar"

You guys are NOT ready for this.

On my way to school in the morning, I met Bandana Friend, as we live quite close to each other, and thus, we walked in together. On our way up the stairs, I looked at her and asked "Ya know who's supervising this morning?" Once she realised, she gave me this impressed look and said "V is so sweet." "I love her." I replied. And immediately, as we look up, guess who's standing at the top of the stairs. Poor thing looks like she hasn't slept in a week, so I promptly greet her with my biggest smile. Little did I fucking know.

Things with my foreign English teacher got intense. Our whole English group was very frustrated and ready to speak to the headmaster, all 15 of us there today. We spoke the whole lesson through. The moment the teacher said I'd put the new bloke who'd be coming in to shame with my English, I started crying, and she hugged me, telling me she refuses to say farewell to us just yet.

We stormed up from class when it ended, all of us as one. I'm still crying, and shaking from anger as I got myself quite riled up. Homeroom teacher enters stage left, sees me crying, I get what is probably my fifth hug in ten minutes. But when we try to speak to the headmaster, we get informed he's "off grounds", and nobody knows when he'll be back. We get out, down the first flight of stairs and find ourselves face-to-face with none other than V. About five or six of us are venting to her all at the same time, all the while she's trying to remain professional and calm not to rile us up even more.

About five minutes later, when the headmaster arrives, we still don't get in immediately, and I feel completely at my wits' end. Every teacher who knows me and saw me then got a little scared, as I'm not usually one to cry in public, only when absolutely necessary. And out comes V, right over to me when she sees me. She strokes my arm, and tells me to feel free to cry, but I didn't. Not completely. I really didn't want her to see me like that, to look at me with her concerned eyes. (Did I mention she was wearing golden eye makeup today? Gosh, what a stunner.) But here we were. Me staring at her little coffee mug necklace and trying not to break into even smaller pieces.

Didn't work much. After the meeting, I wept through the fifteen minutes-ish of Music class we were actually in for, and sat down in the corridor on a seat-thingie alone to clear my head a little. And I definitely did not deliberately chose to sit nearest to the classroom I knew V would be in. Who, me? Never.

Out she comes half a minute later, and bends down to me, to make sure I look at her, hands on both my arms. I don't actually remember what she said to me, even though I remember she spoke, as it's mostly a blur, but I do know I did look up at her, as she was smiling this tiny little comfort smile. Then, a couple seconds later, that felt like an eternity, I stood up from my seat to be at eye level with her— mostly. She's taller than me by a bit. And then. Oh, then.

I don't actually remember which one of us moved first, but, in the most Hollywood way possible, I hid my face into her shoulder and sobbed into her shoulder, my fingers actually curling into her back a little, holding her like my life depended on it. And you guys... she held me so tight. Her hands were around my waist first, just generally holding me as if to say 'It's gonna be okay soon', as she was silent the whole hug through. Then she started stroking my back slowly and all I could think was 'I have never got such a good hug in my whole damn life.'

She let me sob as long as I liked, with complete disregard to the fact that I was robbing her of her lunchtime. When I pulled back, she told me not to "fall on my sword" and that nothing was certain just yet. And, after I assured her that's just how it would be and she walked off, I spent the next five minutes telling all my friends what happened. Plus, when she walked past the room we were in on her way back to class just next door, she made sure to look inside as she passed.

Jesus Christ, you guys. I'm absolutely in awe of all the kindness in this woman's soul, I really am. I'm fortunate enough to say that I got a lot of affection and a lot of hugs in my life, but... never once have I needed one this much. I never imagined our first hug would happen like this. That it would happen so soon. But you know what? It was perfect. Absolutely, one hundred percent perfect, and just so fitting. All these times I've cried about her, more than anyone else I've ever loved and here is where it lead me. Right into her arms.

English class with V afterwards was quite the chaos. We vented all of our problems to her, and she listened, trying to be professional and diplomatic with all of her answers not to get us worked up, seeing we've mostly calmed down a little. The poor woman even tried to teach, but seeing she would get nowhere with it, she told us that we can spend the rest of class talking if we agreed to do Grammar in next week's double lesson. And we're smart kids, so naturally, we did. After that, most of class was chaos and lots, lots of laughter. V kept roasting my classmates, spoke about how messy her own class used to be and that she likes us. Aand, though she didn't say an exact date, we got it out of her which month her birthday is in and what her star sign is. I laughed so much in class that my cheeks hurt a lot, and I honestly don't remember the last time that happened. V was all smiles, too, and at one point, she asked me "Specs, doesn't this feel better than crying?" Her wording made the situation a bit awkward, especially considering everyone went quiet, but I refused to be thrown off by it, because now I actually did know how she meant it! It was supposed to be a 'see, you can still laugh, cheer up' kind of thing, and from what I saw on her face, that really is what was behind the words. At one point, a little later, I turned to her and said "You were right, definitely better than crying."

After class, I told her I hope I didn't scare her a lot earlier, and she just said no, although she didn't think this thing would cause such an uproar. She also told me that when she cries, she mostly does it out of frustration instead of sadness. (I kinda figured that out because of earlier.) Then I thanked her for listening to me, instead of saying sorry, and she just smiled and said "Oh, come on." When we later met in the corridor, we did our usual thing. Our eyes met, she raised an eyebrow with a smirk, I nodded. Back on track.

Bandana Friend and I had another meeting with the headmaster after V's class, and you know what? It worked! The crying and the anger and the frustration wasn't for nothing, and it was such a good feeling. As Bandana Friend and I hugged it out outside, V was already standing beside us the moment we parted, in her little yellow fox sweater she wasn't wearing until then. (And of course she was the first to come. Her chair faces the door. Gossip girl.) When we told her we did it, she reacted very professionally, as expected, but I saw the pride in that smile and those eyes. Plus, she clapped me on the shoulder. Bless.

Once we've told everyone in our class and the other class in our year what happened, and we were sitting and chatting outside the gym, Bandana Friend just told me "And V hugged you." I actually jumped to my feet and ran a little lap, because that's when it sunk in. V hugged me. Or I hugged her. I don't care! We hugged! I still can't believe it!!

It's midnight here. The hug was approximately 13-ish (but at least 12) hours ago. Half a day. Yet I still can't believe this actually happened. It doesn't feel real. While I was writing this, Bandana Friend even texted me that she was jealous. Good Lord... this is the best thing that has happened to me in a while.

I don't have school on Monday, as the teachers have a board meeting, so I don't know if I'll make a post. Maybe I'll write about an old story. Who knows. We'll see. Until then, take care! Love you guys lots!

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

#tc #tcc #teacher crush community #female tc #female teacher crush

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girlinthepictureframe · 5 years

Text

The Briefest Kiss Part 13

Thank you for all your kind words and likes and reblogs! ❤️ This story is now on AO3 as well. Here’s the link for those of you who are interested!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20921534/chapters/49736201

Present Day

April 2019

Alex sat in the back of the chartered jet, on route to Argentina with the rest of the Monkeys. Matt and Jamie were joking around in the front while Nick had fallen asleep half an hour ago. He'd like to get some rest as well, but it just wouldn't come to him. Instead, he kept checking the time. Still too early to call, wasn't it? “Fuck it,” he murmured and pressed dial.

Miles picked up after the first ring.

“Good morning, Miles. This is Alex, calling for our fourth, scheduled 'let's have a phone friendship'-call. How are you this morning?” The disdain for their situation, but mostly for Miles' idea of a separation, dripped from every syllable.

“You ever start a conversation with me like that again,” snipped Miles from across the ocean, “I'll hang up. Got it?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Too early for your sense of humor, ey?”

“No,” retorted Miles. “But this is the fourth time you call me and use that passive-aggressive tone of yours and you know how much that tone pisses me off, which means you're doing it on purpose. You're mad at me and I get it, okay? You don't like this. Well, guess what?” said Miles as his voice got louder, “I don't like it either. But it is what it is. And for what it's worth, you and I are busy. You're doing your tour and I'm doing mine, so it's not as though I'm stopping us from hanging out at some beach or whatever!”

Alex knew that. He knew Miles was busy. He was busy, himself. And if fucking annoyed him that he hated that fact. He ought to be enjoying it. It was the last leg of their tour and it had been a good tour! He should be having the time of his life at the moment. Instead he felt trapped. Worse, he felt shut out of Miles' life. “That's not what I'm saying! But you're the one who decided that we need distance. And then you fucking kicked me out of your apartment! So excuse me for being a little bitter about that!”

“I didn't kick you out, Al.”

“Yes, you did. Call it whatever you want, but that's what it was.” After that night, they hadn't spoken for half a week aside from the occasional and impersonal text message. And Mexico had been no different. Miles had barely spent any time with him and when he had, they had always been around other people. Never alone. “You're treating me as though all of this is my fault.”

Silence fell over them. A few moments passed before Miles spoke up. “I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention.” Another beat. “You’re different than I am. I always worry and my head is filled with different scenarios of all that could go wrong. You let your heart guide you. You're reckless. And I don't mean that in a bad or mean or insulting way. I'm just trying to explain myself. I fear I'm not doing well with that.”

Alex leaned back, closed his eyes. “Are you blaming me for that kiss?”

“No, no.”

“Sounds like it, Mi.”

“You told me to lose control, Al!”

“So you are blaming me!” He took offense. “I was caught up in a moment,” Alex reminded him. “You're the one who kissed me all slow and…” The memory of it caused a shiver to run up his spine. “You know well enough how you kissed me!”

“I know what I did,” snapped Miles. “Why the fuck do you think I'm staying away from you, huh? I told you I can't control it.”

“Stop punishing me for that,” bit Alex back.

Silence fell over them again. Alex took a few deep breaths, rubbed the weariness from his eyes and leaned forward, propping his heavy head up on his hand.

“I feel like I'm losing my mind,” admitted Miles, breaking the quietness. “I don't want to snap at you. Alex, I miss you! But all it takes is one look at you and all my resolve melts away.”

“So does mine,” said Alex defensively. “I wasn't trying to seduce you,” he whispered, occasionally remembering that he wasn't alone on that plane. “But whenever we're that close, I just forget everything else. My mind blanks and all that's left is…you know what!” He sat up straight again. “You barely talked to me in Mexico. You treated me like a stranger! That hurt.”

“Louise was there!” Miles shot back. “That—”

“That what?” demanded Alex to know when Miles abruptly stopped speaking.

“I didn't want to be in the way,” finished Miles, using words that Alex could tell were chosen carefully.

“That's not what you wanted to say, Miles! Don't lie to me!”

“It fucking hurt, okay? Happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Was it? Alex didn't know. If that's what he wanted to hear, didn't that also imply he had purposely paraded her around in front of Miles? Had he done that? Was he that sick of a bastard? Had he been that bitter about Miles' wish for a bit of space? And how could he have known that her presence would hurt him? “That’s not…”

“Damn it, Al! What are we doing?”

“I don't know, Mi.”

“You know, yesterday, I was actually looking forward to our call. I had this idea for a riff that I wanted to share. And Victoria told me a joke that I thought you'd really like. I wanted to tell you that my coffee maker broke. I knew you'd be happy to hear that, since you hate that thing so much! All this stuff that real friends talk about.”

Alex would have loved to hear all that. “Then why were you so grumpy when you picked up?”

“Cause I had just woken up from a dream.”

“And?”

“And you’re not here,” confessed Miles.

Alex felt his eyes grew heavy and his skin turn hot. How he wanted to be there, in bed, with Miles! This early in the morning, the pillows and sheets would be warm and soft and Miles would be, too. He would be sleepy and he would have that lazy, subtle little smile on his face that always let him know that he had dreamt well. Alex would wiggle closer towards him, maybe brush his leg against his dick to tease him just the slightest bit. And he would kiss him. He’d take his time and be tender, until he would know that Miles was awake. Then he would kiss him harder, deeper, vigorously. He’d roll on top of him, grab his arms, pin him down and…

Alex shook his head, swallowed hard. “Oh,” was all he could reply.

Miles seemed to understand. “Exactly.”

“Should we hang up?” asked Alex, unsure how to handle this whole mess.

“Not yet,” pleaded Miles. “Tell me about your day. Tell me boring things.”

Alex turned to stare out of the window and found the endless horizon staring back at him. “The hotel staff temporarily lost one of Nick's guitars,” he began and took Miles step by step through the day's events. They talked for another hour, about benign little things that carried no meaning at all. At the end of his story about how the Monkeys' driver got lost on his way to the airport, Alex could hear the hoarse, breathy sound of Miles' soft snores.

The desire to be lying next to him in that moment became almost unbearably painful. That feeling of being stuck returned to him. And there was nothing he could do to make it go away. “Sleep well, Mi,” whispered Alex and ended the call.

Two weeks later.

“You really don’t mind if I toss all those guitars into the trash?”

Huh? What? Of course he would mind! These were his guitars! Alex shook his head, turned to stare his father with a look of shock. “Why would you want do that?”

“Jesus Christ!” said David Turner and placed the heavy box with old cables and what-nots onto the floor. “You were listening, then!”

Alex rolled his eyes as he wiped the dirt from his hands. “Yes. Sorry, dad. Got a lot on my mind today.” Even though it was a chilly spring day, he was sweating nonetheless. “How many more boxes are there?” He tried not to sound as annoyed as he felt. “I thought you and Miles already did the heavy lifting?”

“We did a lot of it,” said his dad as he picked the heavy box back up. “But there’s a whole lot of stuff in this garage that I want out. And then we have to paint the ceiling. Else we can’t begin to build the new racks.”

“We?” asked Alex, with dread.

“You said you were staying for a bit!”

Only because his mother had promised him that there was no home-improvement planned for the duration of his stay. Otherwise he wouldn’t have shown up. Played. By his parents. Once again! Story of his life. “You know I could pay for people to do all that for you? I’d be happy to!” He’d pay a fortune not to have to do the work himself!

“Where’s the fun in that, son?” He handed the heavy box to Alex. “Go put that with the other stuff. Your mother and I are very appreciative of the fact that you so generously want to spend your hard-earned money on us, but every once in a while she and I like doing a bit of the work ourselves!”

Why, Alex would never understand. But what choice did a son have than to buckle up and help! So he went and put the box with the other stuff.

“Want to tell me what’s on your mind?” asked David as he rummaged through a bucket filled with nuts, bolts and screws.

“You’ll never need those again,” pointed Alex out, only to receive a stern glare in return.

“You don’t know that!” He picked the bucket up and handed it to Alex. “Go put that—”

“With the other stuff,” finished Alex. Bloody thing weighed a ton! “Nice of you to offer your ear but…”

“I’m not your mother?” His father chuckled. “She may understand the matters of your heart a bit better than I do, but you’ve been glum and moody for almost a year now. If her words haven’t helped you by now, maybe it’s time you give me a chance.”

Alex smiled. And felt bad. He had great parents, didn’t he? He shouldn’t have spent the day bitching about helping with the garage. “How about a break, dad? Do you want something to drink?”

“A coffee would be quite welcome at the moment. There’s a new coffee machine in the kitchen but I don’t know how to work it. Would you mind?”

“Of course not. Plain black coffee?”

“No,” grinned David. “Café latte with foam, please. Thank you, son.”

A what now? Alex shook his head as he made his way inside. And then he saw it. In the corner, by the fridge. A big, tacky, bright red machine with a blinking LCD display, a few gaudy chrome buttons and two empty mugs waiting to be filled. Oh, it had to have been him! There was no way his parents would ever buy themselves something as big and ridiculously expensive as this thing. And it was expensive! He knew, ‘cause he’d been there, four years ago, when Miles had went and gotten himself the previous model of that fucking coffee monster! Who had ended up carrying that stupid thing up the three flights of stairs to Miles’ apartment that day? Well, not Miles! He’d been busy carrying the Saint Laurent bag filled with a new pair of shoes!

Alex made his father his desired cup of coffee, then went back to the garage. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

“When did he drop by?”

David looked up mid-sip. “Who?”

“Miles. When he did drop by? He’s the one who got you that fucking coffee machine, isn’t he? He knows how much I hate those. He’s getting a kick of letting me suffer!”

“It’s a coffee machine, Alex. Don’t be dramatic. And if you must know, it was Miles. He came by last week. Called it a very belated Christmas present. Your mom already fancies herself in love with that machine.” He chuckled at that. “It’s a little big, yes. But quite efficient! And very good at its job. I’ve never tasted coffee that good! Why don’t you like it? You love coffee.”

A simple coffee maker got the job done just as well. And if one wanted fancy coffee, then one could walk to a coffee shop and get it. The idea of putting overly big machines into a kitchen was beyond him. Also, it annoyed him that Miles hadn’t told him that he’d dropped by his parents’ home, even though they had spoken on the phone a few times since. It annoyed him almost as much as the fact that his parents had actually gotten to see him, while he was stuck on the bloody phone with him.

David sat down on an old wooden chair in the corner, taking another sip. “Very good coffee, indeed. When you’re done with those two boxes, we should call it a day. It’s already late and we’ve yet to find something to eat. I told your mother I’d fire up the grill, but I’m not sure we’ve got anything to put on it. By the way, will you ever tell Miles that you’re in love with him?”

Alex was in the midst of lifting yet another, even heavier box when his father’s words sank in. It slipped right out of his hands and he barely managed to jump away in time to avoid having it land on his feet. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I fear we’re out of steaks.” When Alex met his eyes, David smiled warmly. “Talk to me about Miles, son.”

“I got to hand it to you, in terms of bluntness, mom got nothing on you!”

“Don’t tell her. Let that be our secret.” He grinned.

Alex sat down on the now ignored box. “How do you know?”

“Aside from the obvious? That boy has spent the last ten years or more walking in and out of our house as though he lived here. Then his visits become less frequent. Eventually they stop. And, coincidentally, at the same time you become a hollow shell of your former self.”

At that, Alex scoffed. He wasn’t a shell, was he? A little preoccupied with his thoughts, maybe. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Am I wrong?”

Well…he had been distant lately. And downtrodden. And maybe he had listened to a few too many depressing songs, realized Alex. He shook his head and admitted defeat. “No.”

“The pictures hurt you, haven’t they?”

“How the fuck do you know about the pictures?” Alex had been on the plane back from South America, on route to London to visit Miles, as friends did. The tour was done. He had also planned on visiting his parents. The entire thing had been completely above brow and Miles wouldn’t have been able to take offense or accuse Alex of breaking another one of Miles’ ridiculous and annoying boundaries!

But on the plane, he had gotten bored. It had been a very long flight. So he had checked the Daily Mail gossip page. And there they had been. Pictures of Miles with his former girlfriend, partying in a club, huddling together, whispering to each other, smiling at each other. It had hurt. Badly. But he wasn’t allowed to take offense, to be hurt, was he? He had a girlfriend in France, waiting for him to return. And Miles was single so his friend had done nothing wrong! However, that didn’t change a thing. No matter how often he had tried to explain it to his heart since then, the stupid just wouldn’t listen and stubbornly kept hurting. So Alex had traveled directly to his parents, instead.

“I saw them on Twitter,” explained David, pulling Alex out of his thoughts.

“What?!” His dad was dropping bombshell after bombshell!

“How am I supposed to keep up with what the bunch of you are doing?” David asked indignantly. “I’d like to know it if one of you does something that might require a few stern words or a compliment. Twitter is quite efficient to stay on track.”

“You don’t know how to work the coffee machine but you know Twitter?”

“You don’t know how to work Twitter but you know the coffee machine!” Retorted David.

Point taken. Alex sheepishly looked away.

“When Miles visited, back before you all went on tour,” Alex’s father continued, “I could see the light return to your eyes. You were laughing and playing guitar and enjoying life a little more. I’m not blind, Alex. I watched you on tour together. I’ve seen you around each other. I don’t wrap myself around my best friend when we hang out. We don’t kiss each other’s cheeks all the time. I don’t hold his hand when I walk with him through the house. I can see the look in your eyes when Miles is near. Whenever you think he caught you staring at him, you quickly look away, even blush, and crack a silly joke that nobody but Miles finds funny. Your mother and I have shared quite a few giggles over that.” He was giggling now. “For what it’s worth, I’ve never seen Miles look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

Wouldn’t it be nice if it were true? But it wasn’t. And his father was imagining things, sad though that was. “Miles and I…he and I…” Alex struggled to find the right words. As always! “We’re both male.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” deadpanned his father.

Alex groaned. “I’m trying to say...I mean...for as long as I’ve known him, I never worried about going too far and crossing a line. I never thought there were lines to cross. Because, well, I mean…we had girlfriends. It never occurred to me that…”

“You thought that, because he’s a guy, you could get close to him without risking your heart?”

“Relationships end. Friendships are supposed to last forever. I never meant to fall in love with him. I never thought I would. I never even thought I could, because he’s a guy! But it’s becoming clearer to me these days that my heart never cared for that. I think I may fallen in love with him at first sight.” He gave his father a helpless, hopeless shrug of his shoulders. “The other stuff…the attraction, the physical…ugh, it’s really hard to talk to you about this,” admitted Alex and looked at the ceiling, blushing hard. “It’s always been there. I just never noticed it before. At least not like I do now. But now that I have, I can’t…un-notice it, even though I want to un-notice it so badly.”

David got up, put the empty mug away, and took a seat next to his son. He wrapped an arm around his shoulder, gave it a squeeze and pulled him against his side. Alex placed his head on his father’s shoulder, closed his eyes and just reveled in the comfort he was receiving. “It’s so complicated now.”

“Now? Did something happen between the two of you?”

Alex marveled, and would forever remain grateful, at the fact that his father was utterly unfazed by the fact that his supposedly straight son had just admitted to being in love with a man. His dad was treating it as the most normal thing in the world. It allowed him to be more honest than he believed himself capable of. “He and I…we did…you know what…last year. It got messy after that.”

“How?”

“I got scared. I had all this feelings,” Alex said quietly, scooting closer into his father’s arms. Who would have thought that, at over thirty, a parent’s embrace could still be so wonderful. “I didn’t know what to do or how to react and I ran. That’s when we stopped speaking. When he came here, we agreed to be friends again. And only that. Only friends. But it’s much harder than I thought!”

“Tell him that,” suggested David.

Alex chuckled sadly. “I have, I think. Miles doesn’t want to be with me. He’s not in love with me. I can handle that. It hurts, but I can handle it. We agreed we’d never do that thing again because it would ruin our friendship. He said he would never risk losing me for a bit of sex. And I love him even more for that.”

“You got it bad, don’t you?” He gave Alex another squeeze. And smiled widely. “But it all sounds so sad and tragic when you tell it. It doesn’t have to be!”

Alex was stunned. “How can it not sound that way? I’m madly in love with my best friend who doesn’t love me back!”

“Alex, come on. Get up, son. Let’s go shopping. We’ll get burgers and fries and that green stuff that your mother likes so much when we eat it.”

Alex followed his father towards the car. “Vegetables?”

“Precisely.”

“Dad, wait! What just happened? I tell you why I’m sad and you smile and want to go shopping? What did I miss?”

“The answer,” smirked David. He came to a stop in front of the car, turned towards his son and gave him a quick hug. “Everything you’re trying to figure out is already in here,” he said and tapped Alex’s forehead with one finger. “Take a break with me, clear your head, and then, when I grill the steaks and you finish up in the garage,” he interjected, “you go and ponder what you just told me. And I guarantee you, it’ll make you feel better and show you what to do next. I’m serious about the steak, though. I am hungry!”

“If you think you know the solution to all my troubles, why won’t just tell it to me?”

“There are a few things in life that one needs to figure out for one’s self, son. You wouldn’t believe me anyway,” said David as he got into the car. “You’re coming?”

Alex groaned but got in.

“Remind me, we need milk and cocoa powder as well. And those white foamy sweets.”

“Marshmallows?”

“Yes! Your mother loves those with her hot chocolate. I’m telling you, that coffee machine is the best gift we’ve ever gotten! It’s so versatile!”

I once bought you a car, Alex wanted to point out. But whatever! Stupid coffee machine. Stupid, single Miles and his stupid, fancy coffee machine!

Later that night, Alex all but sprinted across his old bedroom when his phone rang. “You got ‘em a bloody coffee machine!?” It truly did bother him!

He heard Miles’ laughter. “I needed a new one, I told you! And they had one on sale. It was a really good deal, so I got it for your parents. You should be happy that they’re enjoying it. They are enjoying it, right?”

“Don’t sound so smug,” grumbled Alex as he laid back on his bed. “Speaking about gifts, how come they get one and I don’t? You’ve yet to pick up yours and still haven’t said a word about mine. May I remind you that we missed out on celebrating Christmas and my birthday together, which means you’re two gifts short!”

“I have gifts for you,” mumbled Miles and Alex had to concentrate on making out the words. “The gift I got you for your birthday is pretty big. It’s in London. You just have to drop by and pick it up.”

“Big how?” asked Alex. “You made a huge fuss about my gift for you, which you – in my humble opinion – refused to accept for an entirely ridiculous reason!”

“Not big like that.” Miles hesitated. “The box is big. It’s actually a bit of a funny gift. The one I got you for Christmas…well, I kinda got it for you last year, long before we…you know…and I haven’t given it to you because…it might be the different kind of big. And after the huge fuss I made about your gift for me – which, in my humble opinion, was entirely reasonable – I really shouldn’t give mine to you. But I really want you to have it. It’s a dilemma.”

“Oh, it’s not!” Alex reassured him, grinning. “I’m not like you! I have no issues accepting big gifts! When will you be in London so I can get my gifts?”

“Impatient much?” Miles laughed. “I won’t be back before next week. I’m visiting a few old friends. Then I’ll head to my mom. And there’s a birthday party near Sheffield two days from now, so I’ll be near your parents. Maybe I drop by for coffee!”

“Whose birthday?” asked Alex dryly, deliberately ignoring the coffee quip.

“I don’t know,” admitted Miles. “Friend of Victoria’s. Came by one of our shows. He invited everyone, said it’ll be a huge party. The whole band is going. What are you doing next week? You’re back in Sheffield, aren’t you? Admit it, you’ve spent a good portion of your day pointlessly glaring at the poor, innocent coffee machine!”

“I haven’t. I don’t glare pointlessly. I glared at it angrily.” Alex sank deeper into the cushion. “Don’t know about next week yet.” He hesitated for a moment, but then did suggest what he’d initially intended to do anyway. “We should meet, Miles. It’s been a while.” Almost three weeks.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” That wasn’t the reply Alex had expected.

“Okay,” repeated Miles. “Let’s meet. In London. Soon. So you can get your gifts.”

“And my shirt,” which Alex had absolutely not forgotten about.

“Does that mean I can keep the belt?”

“Dream on!” Both laughed. It felt so good to laugh with him. And even though he’d never, ever admit it to Miles, Alex had to agree that talking to him via phone was a bit easier and less distracting than speaking to him directly. “Miles? Are you busy at the moment? You got plans tonight?” Are you meeting your ex, he really wanted to ask.

“Nope. Just me and the TV tonight. You?”

“Me and no TV. It was a long day.” Was it a bad thing that it made him happy that Miles had no plans for the evening? He pushed the thought away. “Did some working out, sort of. Dad had me carry a lot of boxes. That bloody garage! I think I’m getting old. In the old days, I could go for days without sleep. But now? It’s sad, truly.”

Miles was laughing again. “I feel for you, babe! But you’re right. I also like my off-days much more than I used to!”

Alex was shaking his head at himself. One little word. Babe. And here his fucking heart was, fluttering around in his chest like those four little letters actually meant something.

Words.

Meaningful words.

Alex frowned. A thought had just crossed his mind, but it had been too brief, too fast, to take note of in time. It made him feel strange and restless, all of sudden. Like he’d glimpsed at something very important without realizing it. And now that he tried to get a closer look, it was gone. Where did one search for a thought?

“Alex? You’re still there?”

“Huh? What?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” said Alex, without feeling okay. He sat up straight. “Did you ever feel like…like…” “Like what?” asked Miles, clearly interested.

“I can’t even say,” Alex described. Or rather failed to. “Something just crossed my mind! Just a second ago! But I don’t know what! I just…argh! You must think I’m crazy!”

“I would never think that of you. Did the idea for a song come to you? A lyric? A melody?”

“No.” Alex tried to recall that elusive thought. “I think not. Feels different when that happens.”

“Well, let me know if you figure it out,” Miles told him. “You got me all curious now!”

A loud groan slipped from Alex’s throat. “Ugh. I bet I won’t get a moment’s sleep tonight. I just…I had a thought. But I don’t know what thought that was. It’ll keep me awake all night, I swear! It was something about…words.” He felt as though he was trying to recall the entire plot of a book he’d never even read!

“Words, huh? That’s a vague description. Good words? Bad words? A specific word? Words that somebody has said to you? Or wor–”

“Stop!” There it was again. And there it went away again. “Argh!” Alex drove a hand through his hair, only to hiss in pain. Shit. He’d forgotten that hair, once grown to a certain length, would tangle and knot and not part easily. “Damn hair!”

“I’m not there with you,” Miles reminded him somewhat pointedly. “So if you jump from thoughts to hair to words and back, I’m unable to follow you. Oh shit!”

“What? What happened?”

“Oh no! Oooh! I was supposed to go to the dentist today for my routine checkup! I completely forgot about that!”

Alex rolled his eyes. Speaking about jumping from one thought to another! “Damn it, I thought something bad had happened!”

“It is bad!” Miles was adamant. “I don’t like letting people wait around for me! It’s rude and not fair. I should have canceled sooner. I knew I wouldn’t be in town today. Gotta call tomorrow and apologize!”

“To the dentist?” Alex scoffed. At least he wasn’t the only one who was crazy!

“To the person who makes the schedule! Mock me, I don’t care. But I don’t like people to think I’m some prick who believes he can come and go as he wants. I’d never do that! Which, if I may remind you, is the reason the guy who drove the bus when you and I did our tour liked me a lot better than you!”

“Well, he might have liked you better but while you were sitting in the bus like the well-behaved little rockstar that you are, I was sleeping out! So, which one of us made the wiser decision? I believe I did!” Alex grinned when he heard Miles begin to laugh.

“Fair point,” agreed his friend, taking it in stride. Alex yawned and Miles laughed louder. “Wow, you weren’t lying when you said you’re getting old! I think it’s time you try that whole sleeping thing! Slumber well, Al.”

“Night, Mi.” He hung up with a chuckle.

I’d never do that.

Alex bolted upward and zoomed in on Miles’ words. “He’d never do that.” The thought came back. Clearer, this time. “He’d never risk that.” Miles loved Alex. As a friend, yes. But he loved him. And he’d never risk losing him as a friend for a bit of sex. He had said so himself. And if he would never do that? What did that mean?

Alex got up, paced the room with large, impatient strides. They were friends. They loved each other. But…if Miles would never risk their friendship just for a bit of sex, then…then it hadn’t been just a bit of sex. And if it hadn’t been that, did that mean that it had been more?

With a groan he stripped off his hoodie. Suddenly he felt warm, sweaty even. His head was overflowing with thoughts. His entire body was pulsating, throbbing with something he couldn’t define. His eyes landed on the phone which lay on top of the comforter.

Miles.

We’ve locked our hearts in.

Alex’s breathing became uneven as he was hit by memories of Miles explaining his feelings to him. His friend had been so honest, so open, this entire time. If only Alex had paid closer attention to his actual words! Or even just his actions! All those nights that he’d spent in Miles’ arms, pretending that it was just a friendship-thing? When had he ever felt the need to sleep in Matt’s arms? Or Jamie’s? Or Nick’s? Hell, when had he ever desperately desired to sleep in Taylor’s arms? None of them would have ever even allowed him into their beds, or arms. None, except Taylor. Because Taylor had loved him. But not as a friend!

Miles had always opened his arms for him, Alex realized. Without any hesitation. He’d held him, squeezed him, kissed him, caressed him, even sucked him and fucked him and none of that had felt platonic! Alex came to a stop, held onto his desk and closed his eyes. He remembered those kisses, remembered the way Miles had deepened their contact, had groaned and moaned into his mouth, had sighed in pleasure and begged in need.

Miles had told him they were different, but they weren’t. Not that different. Alex tried to recall his own romantic escapades, tried to recall what he had felt then, but those brief affairs and one night stands that he used to have were all pale and dim compared to the fireworks and explosions he’d experienced with Miles. The ones that had come before Miles didn’t matter to him. They had never left him drowning in want. They had never made him feel loved, the way Miles had made him feel loved. They had never made him surrender completely.

Images of Miles’ face flashed in front of Alex’s eyes. Images from their night. Images of Miles staring at Alex with complete and utter fascination, as though Alex was a living, breathing miracle and Miles was overwhelmed by his beauty. No one had ever looked at him like that.

That fucking hurt!

And how could Miles have been hurt by Alex if there were no feelings which could have gotten hurt? If Miles had wanted him there when he had woken up that night, then he couldn’t have been disgusted by him! And if the attraction was still there, as Miles had told him, as he had demonstrated by kissing him again, then he didn’t regret it. Did he? If the only reason it couldn’t happen again was the risk of losing their friendship, it meant Miles absolutely didn’t regret it!

We’ve always pretended that all we did was play around.

So if they hadn’t pretended, if they hadn’t played around, if everything had been real, then…

Could it be?

I’d never risk losing you for a bit of sex.

If Miles hadn’t risked it for a bit of sex, he had risked it for something more. And more than sex was…love.

Was Miles in love with him? Alex dropped to the chair next to him and just sat there, in silence. Motionless. Was that possible? Did he dare to believe that the one person he loved so wholly might actually love him back? Alex tilted his head to the side, to look at his phone again. Well, he couldn’t really call him and ask him, could he?

Oh God! What was he supposed to do now? Wait until they met again? How long would that take? He couldn’t even go to Miles because he didn’t know where, precisely, Miles was at this very moment. And he couldn’t call and ask Miles, because hearing his voice right now would make speaking entirely impossible and Miles would never just tell him without asking why. What then? Same problem! He couldn’t tell him on the phone. “Fucking hell,” shot Alex and closed his eyes.

Party.

Wait, there was a party. A birthday party. Everyone was invited, Miles had said so. That meant Alex was invited as well, right? But whose party was it? He needed to call somebody other than Miles for details. Victoria! He could call Victoria! Alex jumped up, grabbed the phone from his bed and – then stopped. It was already midnight. He couldn’t call her now. That would be strange. And it would raise flags. Victoria would then call Miles, who, in return, would call Alex. Voila, back to problem one. Fucking phones!

He’d do it tomorrow. He’d find a way to explain it to her.

Tomorrow. Oh, tomorrow was so very far away.

And it’d be days until he saw Miles. Days!

Alex sank down on the bed and laid back again.

Days!

He’d never last that long.

Spoiler for Part 14:

“Fuck talking,” declared Alex.

“Fuck me,” said Miles.

#the briefest kiss #milex #milex fanfic #milex fanfiction #miles kane alex turner #fanfic #fanfiction

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pastordrnseharry · 2 years

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ULTIMATE CARE DEVOTIONAL⛪

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 2022🪐

💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦

TODAY’S THEME: ⛪THE DAY OF THE LORD

“But it shall be one day which shall be known to the Lord, not day, nor night; but it shall come to pass, that at evening time it shall be light”.

TEXT: Zechariah 14:7

MESSAGE:

The Day of the Lord according Zechariah 14:1-15, describes the cosmic picture of God gathering the nations to lay siege to Jerusalem and when half of the population has been exiled, God comes to deliver the city (verses,2-3), defeating those opposing Jerusalem (verses, 12-15).

The Day of the Lord is a time of Judgment, a time when a sentence is passed and settled forever. It is a day that is coming for certain as Obadiah said, “For the day of the Lord is near upon all the heathen; as thou had done, it shall be done unto thee: thy reward shall return upon thine head” (Obadiah 1:15)

The significant of the Day of the Lord: it’s a day inaugurating the eternal universal rule of God.

In the Old Testament; it was recognized as an eschatological day of ultimate judgment bringing final deliverance or doom called also day of Yahweh.

In the New Testament: it is declared as the triumphant day of Christ’s return to earth in glory.

7 Ways to Prepare for Jesus’ Return (Mark 13: 24-37)

1. Live in the light of His first coming.

2. Be discerning

3. Accept the uncertainties

4. Don’t lose hope

5. Encourage one another

6. Live as if today was the day

7. Keep on doing the work Jesus left us to do.

On the Day of the Lord, the Lord’s people shall also enjoy light in the hour of death. Unbelief laments; the shadows fall, the night is coming, existence is ending. Ah no, crieth faith, the night is far spent, the true day is at hand (Romans 13:12-14). Light is come, the light of immortality, the light of a Father’s countenance. Gather up thy feet in the bed, see the waiting bands of spirits! Angels waft thee away. Farewell, beloved one, thou art gone, thou wavest thine hand. Ah, now it is light. The pearly gates are open (Rev.21:21), the golden streets shine in the jasper light (Revelation 21:18). We cover our eyes, but thou beholdest the unseen; brother and sister thou hast light at even-tide, such as we have not yet. May the Lord guide us to be ready for the Day of the Lord, in Jesus mighty name, Amen.

PRAYERS♨️

Heavenly Father, I thank you for my life and my family members. I appreciate you for the ultimate sacrifice you did for me through your only begotten Son, Father, I am grateful. I present my life to you, Lord help fulfill manifest your divine plans and purpose in my life. Help me to walk in your will till the end. Let your good Spirit guides me to always be ready for the coming of the Lord Jesus. Lord I ask for your divine grace and mercy this day, to make meaningful impact on today’s activities, and come back with the testimonies in Jesus’ mighty name, Amen.

FURTHER BIBLE READING

ZECHARIAH 14

BIBLE READING PLAN FOR THE YEAR, 2022

MORNING: NUMBERS, 34-35

EVENING: 1 CORINTHIANS, 15-16

💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦

Author: Pastor NseAbasi Harry

💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦

HAMMER WORD BIBLE CHURCH, ABAK, AKWA IBOM STATE CARES⛪

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enhypemen · 6 years

Text

Dance prt.2 - Hwang Hyunjin smut

Request: More Hyunjin smuts please??? OmG I died reading ur last one ugh ur mind Maybe a pt 2 the one u just wrote hc I’m hella curious to see how they danced after that ahah

Description: Its competition day! After the day in the practice room, yours and Hyunjins days were spent practicing, going in dates, or exploring each others bodies. After performing your dance things get heated in your dressing room.

Warnings: filthy-ish, dirty talking, unprotected sex, pulling out method (Don't be silly wrap your willy), cursing, dom!hyunjin, fluffy towards the end.

Pairing: Hyunjin x (fem) reader

Today was the day. It was competition day, you and Hyunjin were standing back stage shaking with excitement while watching the others perform. These past few weeks were spent practicing, going on dates, and of course having lots of sex.To say you guys fit perfectly together wasn't enough. You guys already had a while lot of chemistry, from being friends for 13 years, but now that chemistry was turned into a deeper.

"Alright, you two. You're on in 10, okay?" Your dance instructor says smiling brightly at the two of you.

You smile as she continues, "you guys have made so proud! The two of you are my stars, I knew you could do it"

She hugs you both before running back out to her seat and your names were called. When you head out to the stage you both bowed respectfully before getting into position. Once the music starts your attitude changes from nervous and excited, to serious and confident . (Click it)

Once the dance is over the crowd cheers loudly, you and Hyunjin linking hands and bowing before leaving the stage. Your dance instructor meets you in the dressing room and hugs you both proudly.

"Amazing, you two did amazing. Now get changed and meet me in the seats, they'll be announcing winners (haha) in a half hour, give or take" she says before leaving the room.

You smile to yourself, then turn to Hyunjin sending him a wink before walking to your dance bag and getting your change of clothes out. You lift the cropped top off of your body folding it neatly and putting it into your bag.

Hyunjin watches you from his side of the room, also folding his shirt and placing it into his dance bag when an idea pops into his head. He locks the door quickly and silently without you noticing and walks up behind you.

He takes the shirt you were changing into, putting it back into your bag making you turn around with a raised brow.

"You won't need it, it'll just get in the way right now" he says and picks you up.

Your legs wrap around his waist and he walks you over to couch set in the corner of the dressing room. He sits with you on top and immediately unclips your bra. The remaining of your clothes are thrown off leaving you both naked in a matter of seconds.

Hyunjin kisses you hard, your hands on either side of his face, while his are on your hips and ass. He pulls your body down onto him and thrust up, pushing himself into you.

"Oh god" you moan shutting your eyes in pleasure.

He looks up at you as your moans increase in volume and moves his hand to your mouth in an attempt to shush you.

"We don't wanna be caught now, do we love?" He says in a husky voice.

You moan in response and grind harder into him, his eyes widen as something clicks in his mind.

He smirks, "You'd like that wouldn't you, baby"

"You'd love for someone to hear you moaning from just my cock being buried deep into, huh?" He questions.

His thrust become more harsh but slow, your head falling onto his shoulder as your breath becomes uneven, whines spilling from your mouth.

"I didn't know you where such a dirty girl" he says as he flips you onto your back.

"Dirty girls deserve to be treated as such, don't you think?" He says as he lifts your leg over his shoulder and pounds into you.

Your back arches off of the couch as a loud moan escapes you throat at the unexpected pleasure. He was hitting new spots and hitting every angle, it felt too good and you couldn't control yourself. Your nails dug into his biceps creating little crescent marks and your teeth biting into his shoulder.

He hisses in pain and groans as it mixes with his pleasure. His hips become relentless as the sound of skin slapping against skin, moans, and loud breathing filled the room. Your hand travels down between your connected bodies only to be slapped away, Hyunjin grabbing your wrist and placing them roughly at your sides.

"You're going to cum from just my dick, do you understand?" He says sternly.

You nod grabbing the back of his neck and connecting your lips. Teeth and tongue, the kiss wasn't like the ones you shared when he'd drop you home after a date, or when you'd meet up in the practice room. Those kisses were soft and passionate, full of care. This one was lust filled, full of desperation and want.

He pushes his hand into you lower abdomen with a harsh thrust, your lips disconnecting as your jaw dropped, a loud "fuck" coming from you lips as your orgasm hit you in a new way. Your mind and vision went blank as Hyunjin continued his sloppy thrust, his orgasm washing over him soon after.

"Jesus, how are we suppose to explain this?" He ask.

"Explain what?" You ask confusion laced in your voice.

"Y/n, you squirted" he says into your chest.

Your eyes widen in embarrassment, you've never done that before. Your cheeks flare red making Hyunjin laugh.

"Hey, don't worry. I liked it and I'm definitely going to make you do it again" he says and gets up. He grabs your clothes and helps you dress, before grabbing his clothes and dressing himself.

After cleaning up the mess you two made, you both exit the room and head to the seating room.

"Jesus Christ, what took so long? They're announcing winners now" you instructor says hurrying you over.

"Sorry, noona. Y/n had to use the bathroom" Hyunjin says lying through his teeth.

The instructor doesn't seem to notice and nods averting her attention to the stage.

"We will now be announcing the senior duet winners" the announcer says.

"Third place, scoring 243 points is ... Kim Yugyeom and Im Nayeon" the crowd cheers as the two go up and collect their metal and trophy moving to stand to the side.

"Second place, scoring 287 points is ... Lee Minho and Lisa Manoban" you and Hyunjin clap and cheer for the two as they also collected their metal and trophy, standing next to third place winners.

"And now, in First place, scoring 312 points.." a drum roll starts as you hold both Hyunjins and your dance instructors hands in yours.

"Hwang Hyunjin and y/in y/n" your names were announced with a congratulation.

You jump up in victory wincing in pain, Hyunjin at this and hugs you tight, then leading you to the stage.

Metals are placed over your neck and a trophy is handed to you as you stand with Hyunjin, and the rest of the winners, for a picture.

Once the pictures were done Hyunjin places the trophy down and grabs your hands.

"Y/n , I should've asked you this weeks ago, but I never had the guys .. so ... will you be my girlfriend?" He asks shyly.

Your face brightens with a smile, your arms swing around his neck, kissing him deeply before pulling away.

"Yes! A hundred times yes!" You screamed.

→end ←

#hwang hyunjin smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids angst #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #kpop smut #j_oneracha smuts #bang chan smut #kim woojin smut #lee minho smut #seo changbin smut #han jisung smut #lee felix smut

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thephantomofthe-internet · 6 years

Text

Homeward Bound: Chapter 8

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader, Billy Hargrove x Henderson!Reader

Chapter Summary: Going from Hargrove to Harrington can give a girl whiplash, or at least it should.

Words: 3,213

Warnings: Swearing, slight smut referenced oops, death mention

Permanent Tag: @hotstuffhargrove @denimjacketkisses @hargrovesgoldilocks @casaharrington @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @hipsmcgee

Series Tag: @moonstruckhargrove @kurt-nightcrawler @baebee35 @thoughstofaredhead @supernatural-pants @bby-becca @fear-the-reaper115

You awoke to the sun burning your eyes. Your neck was sore and locked up, your back aching. As you sat up, it took you a minute to remember where you were. This wasn’t your bed, nor was it your room, but your things were everywhere.

You were at Billy’s. And you’d slept with him.

And you hated yourself for it. You shouldn’t have done it, he loved you for Christ’s sake, and you used him.

And the worst part was it wasn’t even good. It was terrible, god awful, embarrassingly bad. You were certain that your memory of him being a god in bed was just the memory of an inexperienced teenager, because this was not good by any means. You’d never felt more ignored by the person on top of your in your life-you were a complete afterthought in the whole event. You swore you’d never been further from an orgasm in your entire life. That would’ve been shitty but if it hadn’t lasted forever; that was the one thing your memory had correct, he lasted long. Too bad that’s all he had going for him.

You crept out of bed; Billy was still snoring next to your place in bed, and slowly gathered your things off the floor. You made sure to not miss a piece of yourself, pulling back on your skirt and blouse, your bra was still around your waist when you awoke. You pulled on your underwear and tiptoed out of his bedroom.

Your shoes and purse were still by the door and you grabbed them, slipping out the front door before he could even stir.

You knew well enough that you looked awful-signs of sex were all over you. You were more than glad that the hickeys weren’t on your neck, only your chest and collarbones. Your body was desperately sore, though it was only because you’d tried and failed to share a twin bed.

As you made your way out of the apartment, you wondered how you were going to spin this into a good lie. Your mother was going to kill you, god that felt so immature to you. You weren’t supposed to be out with boys, unless the boy was Dustin, and you certainly weren’t supposed to be spending the night with them. And you’d been gone all night, how the hell were you supposed to cover for yourself. Steve had to have told your mother where you were going, he always had to have the moral high ground over you.

The honk of a car horn startled you out of your thoughts, though you chose not to turn around to see who it was. You didn’t want nor need to see whoever thought it was a good idea to honk to get a lady’s attention.

“Henderson!” the driver cried and you let out a small sigh and a tired laugh, turning to smile at the driver.

Steve Harrington was behind you and his timing was excellent.

“You need a ride?” he asked, slowing the car as he got closer to you. You nodded, pulling open the door and hopping in quickly. Steve chuckled, watching you straighten out and slump down, defeated.

“Have fun last night?” he asked with a smirk.

You groaned “No…well yeah, and then no. Ugh, it was not a good choice.” You admitted glumly. “And now I’m gonna get grounded, god I feel like I’m sixteen or something…”

“Relax, your mom’s not gonna do shit to you.” Steve replied easily. You scowled at him, rolling your eyes.

“Have you met my mother?” you asked sarcastically.

“Yes, and I know lying to her solves most problems, which I already did. As far as she knows, you were at Jenny Stein’s. And since she lives in the same complex as your Mr. Hargrove, I think it’ll work out fine.” Steve said with a shrug.

“You lied to my mom for me?” you asked, wide eyed.

“Yeah, yeah I did.” He replied.

“Thank you…” you said. You had no idea what else, it shocked you. He wasn’t supposed to be protecting you, that wasn’t his role anymore. But he was, and while it should’ve annoyed you, it warmed your heart.

“Don’t worry about it, you hungry?” he said “Cause I haven’t eaten yet and I’m starving.”

“Yeah, yeah I can eat.” You said, ignore the way your stomach growled at the very mention of food. Steve drove off towards what was once a crime scene, the diner formerly owned by Benny Hammond, the first outside victim anyone had ever heard of.

The place lived in a strange place in your mind; filled with both happiness and second hand grief. It lived there because you didn’t know Benny, you never would, but you spent hours in the place he died. Benny’s had been bought by a third party chain and soon became a fifties themed diner-complete with waitresses on roller skates. It had lost its down-home sheen and became an outside force. People protested the change but nothing could be done and suddenly it was someplace without feeling; a cold, sterile environment wrapped in pastels and kitsch. It felt fake and yet real, you spent nearly every afternoon there, planning schemes but also drinking shakes and relaxing, planning school dances or weekend trips. You went on dates there, saw hearts break and explode with love. You both loved and hated that diner.

And sitting there now, in your old booth from years past, you felt both at home and in a strange land. You’d been on your first date with Steve in that same booth, sharing a shake and wondering how your lives had gotten to this point. Now, you sat as strangers, sipping coffee, unsure of your places in each other��s worlds. Silence was the wall in between you. You intended to remove the first brick; you’d built the wall after all.

“He said he loved me.” You said simply, swallowing a mouthful of warm coffee, slightly too sweet for your liking.

“He did?” Steve asked, clearing his throat. He was obviously holding back a laugh, trying to be polite to you, but it wasn’t working; his face fully gave him away.

“He did.” You replied, chuckling softly.

“How did you respond?” Steve asked, leaning closer to you, elbows on the table, dangerously close to knocking the salt over

“I nearly jumped out the window!” you cried, earning a boisterous laugh from Steve, who fell back against the white vinyl booth. The whole thing was as silly as it felt, which was reassuring. But it was also nice to laugh about it-when it happened, you wanted to die, but now you were okay. You didn’t have to love him, and you sure as hell didn’t, but it was good to know that the whole thing was as stupid sounding as it felt.

“Jesus Christ and you still slept with him?” he asked, dumbfounded, shaking his head with a wide smile.

“Apparently! I guess I pitied him or something…” you sighed, rolling your eyes at your own stupidity.

“Was it…sorry, no I shouldn’t ask that.” He replied, stumbling over the question he gave up on. Your roller-inclined waitress, Katherine, placed your plates in front of you, refilling the coffee cups and skating off before you could even thank her.

“No, it’s cool.” You shrugged “It was awful. Absolutely terrible, it was like sleeping with a virgin except it lasted for like two and a half hours.”

“Wait seriously?” he asked, dropping his fork. This was a new side of Billy Steve never got to see-the side where he wasn’t the king. Even long after high school, he still ruled over their peers. Sure, now he ran Miller’s Bar like he owned the place and made the young parents of Hawkins feel bad for starting their families early. But he was still admired, still wanted and lusted after. Steve hadn’t had a date in months but Billy was out every weekend from what he heard. On major drinking holidays, he’d been called to take down a couple of Billy’s altercations but nothing really ever became of them-nobody pressed charges and every generally forgot, leaving him with the paperwork.

“Really!” you cried, giggling “I swear, the guy I lost my virginity to was better, at least it was shorter.”

“Was I? I mean…never mind.” Steve started, immediately giving up on the sentence again. He was blushing now, his eyes downturned to his eggs, suddenly small in his seat.

“You were better, don’t worry.” You said easily, shrugging softly as you took a bite of the giant pile of pancakes. Steve perked up just a little, a small smile spreading across his face. He looked more confident, at ease with himself again. You were glad to be of a little help to his self-esteem, even if you weren’t necessarily ready to be having these conversations again.

“Well good…not that I asked, but you know…good to know.” He said, his voice smoother. He was trying to play it cool now, finding his groove again, although he seemed to be stumbling just a bit. You found it oddly endearing, like an elementary schooler trying to imitate their cool older brother instead of an adult.

“Oh totally…totally completely, you’d never ask me that…” you replied, shaking your head as a small smile slipped onto your lips. It was hard not to laugh; he looked so serious, you could almost take him seriously if you didn’t know him. As he puffed out his chest, doing a silent imitation of Billy, you lost it. He just looked so silly; a false attempt at masculinity and suaveness, like a marionette instead of a real boy.

“Good and, ya know girl…I still love ya…” he added, trying his best to mock the Californian’s accent, slightly marred by Indiana’s tone.

You snorted loudly, coffee nearly coming out of your nose, making you choke just for a second as you shook your head, holding up your palm in the universal sign of ‘stop, wait I got one’.

“No no it’s like this.” You puffed your chest, widening your stance to make yourself as big as possible. You jutted out your jaw and pulled your best open mouth smirk, eyeing him like a piece of meat, which immediately made Steve cower away, watching you almost mystified. You ran your tongue over your upper teeth and lip, nodding at him. “You know I just…I love you, pretty girl…” you crooned, your voice not quite low enough to reach his tone and not quite skilled enough to imitate his accent, turning the words into a strange mix of choices that broke Steve’s resolve immediately.

“What was that…” he cried, his voice hoarse and breathless. You merely grinning, shrugging easily. “How do you move like him and sound nothing like him at the same time?” he guffawed.

“I’m not good at accents!” you said with a laugh, only making Steve laugh harder. The whole scene felt homey, like a warm blankets on a cold winter’s night. It was one of those moments you wished you could sink into like a warm bath, but time was physical and you had to move on, taking a sip of coffee and watching Steve come down from his giggle fit.

You finished breakfast in relative silence, although it was comfortable one. The kind you had with your father before he got his divorce and ran off with his mistress, back when you were young and naïve of the ways the world can ruin a person. It was strange to find yourself comparing Steve to your father, especially because you hated your father.

You hated him for abandoning you and Dustin. You hated him for not paying child support. You hated him for marrying Marnie and forcing you to play bridesmaid while Dustin was none the wiser. You hated him for moving on with his life while your mother struggled to find her footing again. You hated him for taking away the music in your life and forcing you to find it again on your own.

But Steve…well he wasn’t your father. Not by a long shot. Your mother swore that once he had a sense of humour and a heart, but you never really got to see it. But this breakfast with him, you felt as though you slipped back into your childhood in Chicago.

Your feet dangled off the floor as you sat on the edge of your big wooden kitchen chair, trying to keep your freshly cleaned and absolute favourite pink shirt, the one with the big crocheted butterfly on the front, clear of cereal bites and spilled milk as you took too big bites of sugary breakfast cereal. Across the table, your father sat in his equally clean and pressed black suit, the jacket hanging off the chair like clockwork. He was reading the newspaper, the ink turner the tips of his fingers black, and drinking black coffee from the boring, plain white mug he used every morning like clockwork. You made him a mug for father’s day, covered in bright splotches of colour and squiggly doodles that vaguely mimicked smiley faces, hearts, and stars. He used it once, and then it became a holder for pens and pencils on his desk. You didn’t mind, you were just happy he appreciated it, that he even used it at all.

Your mother was frazzled upstairs. Dustin had just been born, he was hardly alive and yet he insisted on making his presence known by screaming. He’d been in and out of the hospital since he was born. Your father wasn’t pleased about it, you’d heard them fight, but when you looked at your baby brother, he seemed fine to you. He didn’t have collar bones, fair, but you thought it was cool. And besides, his big eyes made up for it. You thought he was beautiful. Your father disagreed.

On mornings like this, you had to make your own breakfast, which meant whatever the sugariest cereal you had in stock was with too much milk because the jug was too heavy for you to lift and your father was never really watching to make sure you could handle it. You ate at the table in as close to silence as a five year old could muster, which meant you hummed to yourself and muttered whatever thoughts you had to yourself, and your father read in silence. It was nice though-your father worked long hours and you hardly saw him because of it. Those brief moments at the table before he left for work gave you simple moments with him, the tangible kind you could taste and smell and hear and feel when you recalled them.

You heard your mother let out a sharp cry, a word you knew you weren’t supposed to use and mommies weren’t supposed to say. “Cliff!” she cried from upstairs “I think he’s sick, I think we have to go back to the hospital!”

Your father looked up from his paper for the first time that morning, calling back “I’m sure he’s fine, Claudia! He’s just acting like a baby!” and then, he looked to you. He hadn’t looked at you all morning. And he smiled, he rolled his eyes. This was an intimate moment, a brief beat where your sentiments were aligned and he treated you like his equal. He believed that you two had the same feelings on the situation happening just above you. And you complied; you shrugged with a giggle, a secret shared between you two. For the first time in your life, you and your father were aligned, comrades in battle instead of trailing daughter to distant, aloof father. That little look you shared was a moment you held onto for the rest of your life, until he sent you back to Hawkins without a second look.

You wondered if that was who Steve could become. You could almost see it-if life led him done the same path it led Hopper, you could see him becoming jaded and cynical and distant. But then there was something in him, an eternal sense of hope, which kept him away from that path. He didn’t believe that the world was inherently good, he knew that there was evil always lurking around the corner, but he still believed in some sense of good and truth in the world, something you couldn’t fully get on board with anymore. You wondered if he had a cynical bone in his body. You guessed not.

“You ready to face the wrath of your mom?” Steve asked, drawing you out of your thoughts, an ease to his whole demeanour that felt unearned. You wished he was still nervous around you instead of so cool and collected.

“Eh, I guess…as long she actually believes I was at Jenny’s I should be fine. If not…well I would really appreciate if you were a poll bearer at my funeral.” You replied.

“Oh yeah? Who else should I ask?” he asked with a grin, pulling out his wallet to pay for breakfast before you could even ask for separate checks.

“Well Dusty, obviously, then get Lucas and Mike, I don’t really think Will can do the heavy lifting, not that Mike really could either…maybe get Marvin Rubio to do it, he’ll cry his way through it but he’s stronger than Mike and should be able to help hold my ass up, as long as he’s got a strong support around him to lift I won’t end up on the floor.” You said decidedly.

“What should we do about lover boy then?” he asked “I’m sure he’d want to carry you down the river.”

“Don’t let him touch me, and don’t let him make a speech! My mother will kill my ghost and I wanna haunt some people.” You replied.

“Duly noted, now let’s get out of here before Callahan puts an APB out on my location.” Steve said and you nodded, getting up from the plastic seat, your thighs sticking to the material slightly. Going home sounded both good and bad to you now; good, because you could finally change and wash the sins off your body, but bad because you have to finally deal with your mother. And the negatively were vastly outweighing the positives. Still, there was nowhere else for you to go, so you gritted your teeth and climbed back into Steve’s car.

The drive was short, much to your chagrin, and you were home before you could find your strength again. Unlike before, Steve wasn’t parking, so you quickly gathered your things.

“Thanks, for picking me up…and for breakfast, it was nice.” You said awkwardly, slinging your purse over your shoulder. He nodded and you climbed out quick, set to begin the dreaded ascent up your driveway.

Steve rolled down his window, calling after you “Hey! Before you try to make other plans, you wanna hang out with me and Dustin tonight? I’m sure the kid would love having you around.” He asked.

You nodded “Sure! Sounds good!” you replied with a grin, waving as he drove up before rushing up the steps. It was still early, maybe she was still asleep.

The door burst open. “Y/N!”

You were so dead.

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carolap53 · 3 years

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PRISONER OF JESUS CHRIST I, Paul, the prisoner of Christ Jesus for the sake of you Gentiles… Ephesians 3:1

Prison! Even the word sends shivers down the back and the thought is immediately pushed to the back of our minds. Yet we in the western world often have no idea just how horrible conditions are in prisons in non-western countries.

For most people anywhere in the world, imprisonment is simply the biggest shock of their life. One of the most famous prisoners, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, was almost poetic in his description in his book The Gulag Archipelago. “Arrest [and imprisonment] is an instantaneous, shattering thrust, expulsion, and somersault from one state to another.”

Prison is extremely challenging for those, like Aleksandr, who find themselves there unjustly. It is rigorous even for those who acknowledge their guilt and must pay the price. But a strong faith in God and trust in God’s ultimate goodness and purposes enables Christian prisoners to emerge with victorious testimonies. And like the Apostle Paul they can say they were “prisoners of Jesus Christ.”

For example, Pastor Steven in Vietnam is a courageous leader of the unofficial church. He had a ticket to the USA in 1975 but chose to stay and suffer with his people. He is passionate about the gospel and says, “I always have my suitcase packed by the front door, ready for prison again.”

He spent seven and a half years in a tiny cell after being arrested for “illegal Christian activity.” He was tortured for sharing Christ with other prisoners, but his faith impacted thousands. One Vietnamese pastor says, “Before 1975, we were only allowed to preach in prisons on Tuesdays, but now there are brothers witnessing there seven days a week!”

An Open Doors-Africa co-worker named Solomon was assigned to find out if there were many Christians in prison or labor camps in Mozambique during the communist regime there. While researching, he was arrested himself. “In prison, all my possessions, including my Bible were taken from me. Then I was subjected to a cross-examination for six hours, after which I was thrown into a cell, exhausted. I had to sleep on a concrete floor without even a blanket.

“Knowing that my heavenly father would never forsake me, I directed all my attention to my fellow-prisoners. Although I still had to sleep on the floor and was harassed by malaria, bugs and gnawing hunger, I tried to talk about my faith as much as possible…

“I had the opportunity to preach to my companions. I prayed for the sick and the Lord heard my prayers and healed them. That was of great support to them and during my stay in prison, I led fifteen people to the Lord.

“Unexpectedly, I found out that there were more Christians in prison. Now it became clear to me why I had to be arrested. In the first place, to bring the message of salvation to the lost ones in prison. And secondly, to strengthen my fellow Christians.

RESPONSE: Today I accept the fact I can be a witness for Jesus anywhere and everywhere He leads.

PRAYER: Pray for Christians in prison (Hebrews 13:3) and pray they will be used of God while there.

Open Doors Ministry

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vincentcheungteam · 3 years

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Church and Seminary

If seminaries are necessary, they are necessary only because churches do not have adequate teaching ministries. Of course, even when a church has an adequate teaching ministry, a seminary might still have certain advantages, such as a larger community of scholars, a larger library, and so on. However, if the church is serious about its teaching ministry, then the difference between its resources and a seminary's resources will only be one of degree. A church could have its own community of scholars (teaching elders, etc.), a good-sized library, and other resources for teaching and research, so that a seminary, even if useful, is still not absolutely necessary for ministerial training.

The training model of Christ (Jesus and the Twelve) and the apostles (Paul and Timothy) is more than sufficient. If it seems insufficient, it is only because churches have not really adopted it. The leaders of a church should be able to train their own partners and successors, instead of having to send their people to seminaries to be taught by people that nobody in the church knows, or worse, to hire someone from the outside with whom the church has never had a relationship.

Some seminary graduates are stupid and arrogant, and unworthy of ministry. Most cases are not even examples of "knowledge puffeth up" (1 Corinthians 8:1), but it is the belief that they have knowledge that puffs them up, since they in fact know very little. It is impossible to tell whether a person knows anything just because he has a degree.

I started to exhibit an interest in biblical matters when I was in elementary school, and as this continued for a number of years, my parents wanted to make sure that I was not misled in my studies. So they brought me to several seminary-trained pastors and gave me the opportunity to discuss theological issues with them. They could not answer my questions. When our positions differed, they could not refute what I said. And they did not know the biblical passages we discussed half as well as I did.

I knew very little, and some of my beliefs were false. In fact, I was not even converted at the time. But these pastors, who were trained in seminary and had spent much time in ministry, could not properly instruct or refute even a child like me. It was not because I was especially clever, but they were especially incompetent, despite their years of training and experience. Of course, not all seminary graduates are like this, but the point is that just because a person has a seminary degree does not mean that he is capable.

If I were to hire a seminary graduate from outside of my circle, instead of promoting someone that I have known and trained for years, there is no chance that I would allow him to teach my congregation or my audience right away. First, although he has a seminary degree, I still have no idea if he knows anything or if he is good at anything, because a degree never proves knowledge or competence. Second, knowledge and competence are not the only qualifications for ministry, but a minister must be above reproach in his character.

So I might put him on probation for a while, and make him do all sorts of menial work. I would make him haul boxes. I would make him scrub toilets.[2] I would make him serve coffee to janitors and secretaries. I would make him help in the nursery so that he can change diapers and mob up vomit. If he thinks that he is too good for all of this, then he is no good to the ministry. If, fresh out of the seminary, he thinks that he is already some "man of God" that is too important to do anything other than teaching and writing, and to have people sit at his feet to hear his wisdom, then he is a useless piece of trash, and he is so stupid that he does not know it.

Nobody in the organization would be intimidated by his seminary degree. The more he talks about it or tries to impress people with it, the more we will look down on him and humiliate him. If he ever introduces himself as "doctor" so-and-so, then he might as well walk right out the door and never come back (Matthew 23:7-12). If he has the goods, then he can show us by his humble and excellent service.

There are numerous other details that I could notice. I would take him on errands and meals, and I would watch how he treats the waiters and the doormen. I would casually suggest that we meet at a certain time, and then see if he arrives early (I always do). If he is married, I would watch how he interacts with his wife, to see whether he selfishly lords it over her, or whether he uses his authority to serve her with sacrificial love.

When someone is applying for ministry, all of these things are relevant, and then he must also meet the proper intellectual and doctrinal standards. If it is someone that I have trained, I would have all the information I need about him, but a seminary degree tells me none of these things. Consider the lessons and tests based on Luke 14:7-11, Proverbs 29:5, James 1:19 (also Proverbs 10:19), and others. So what if he has a seminary degree? Even if he comes from one of the best seminaries, it might still mean that he is more likely to be full of pride, unbelief, false doctrines, and the traditions of men. It is easy to train up someone more spiritually and intellectually competent in several months to a year. If he is too "holy" or educated to mob up vomit or scrub the toilet, then I do not want him to even lick stamps for my church or ministry. He is not good enough to be the speed bump on the church parking lot, and he can forget about being a teacher. On the other hand, nothing that I have described should pose a problem to a genuine servant, one who is not trying to be a master or a celebrity to God's people (Matthew 20:25-28).

All of this applies to me as well – the day that I consider myself too much of a "man of God" to scrub the church toilet is the day that I have become as a filthy toilet to God. And it would not be enough to do a half-baked job – if I scrub a toilet, I am going to make it shine. I will not pretend that I have had as many opportunities to perform menial work as many other people, but whenever the demand was placed upon me, I did a good job with a good attitude.

To illustrate from an early experience, all the students at my high school were required to work in the kitchen for one year. I was placed under an elderly supervisor who was accustomed to handling spoiled and grumbling students – kitchen work was considered the worst on campus. Probably expecting another lazy and whiny worker, the supervisor was very harsh and critical at first. But I worked so hard and so well that her attitude toward me was changed after several days, and she even started giving me preferential treatment.

I was promoted from the smelliest and most disgusting tasks in the kitchen (like dumping leftovers from people's dishes and trays into a hole where all of this mixed discarded food had been for many hours), to repetitive tasks like peeling potatoes (thousands of small red potatoes!), and finally to the front of the kitchen to arrange the items on the counters and to serve food to the students.

My favorite tasks were the disgusting and the repetitive ones. People stayed away when I was doing the disgusting tasks (I did not think it was that bad, but others did), and I did not have to think about what I was doing for the repetitive ones, so that while I was working, I would spend all those hours thinking on Scripture, and on the sermon that I would preach that week.

On the last day, when the year was over and it was time for me to leave, the full-time adult workers at the kitchen were in tears – they were weeping and trembling. This is the power of the normal biblical work ethic. I was not like this because I was born this way, but because I was a Christian, sovereignly changed and nurtured by God.

Jesus left us an example. Since our Lord and Teacher was willing to perform a servant's work, we dare not consider ourselves greater than our master (John 13:14–17). It would be unbiblical to require a minister to do menial work as part of his regular duties (Acts 6:2), but he should never consider himself above it, and he should gladly participate whenever he is needed. In fact, a leader should make a point of humbling himself and setting an example by helping with the lowly tasks at church, without neglecting his main duties.

If I were to train or test someone that I have hired from the outside, then I will have to pay him a reasonable salary while he is on probation, and meanwhile he would not be doing the work that I hired him to do in the first place. Moreover, I have been using humility and work ethic only as examples – there are many other things that I need to test and teach him. But if I were to promote someone from within my own church or ministry, he would have already been trained and tested for a long time.

There are some things that a seminary can do to train and test their students when it comes to humility. For example, it can make the students do all the janitorial work. But seminaries might consider this unfeasible for various reasons, and those that are willing to implement something like this cannot make it work as well as a church can. Also, if the students do this sort of work as a school requirement, then they might not perceive its significance and would just go through the motions, and the work would be much less humiliating to the proud (which makes the training less meaningful and effective) than if they were in the minority, as would be the case if someone is trained and tested in a church community. In general, a church is the better environment for raising up its own workers and leaders.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ [1] Adapted from email correspondence. [2] Cleaning toilets ought to be a joy – the stuff that you scrub off the toilet is much less stubborn and much more fragrant than many of the people that you will deal with in ministry. If you cannot even handle toilets – and what you find in them – how will you handle people?

Vincent Cheung. Doctrine and Obedience (2012), p. 4-7.

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