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yestolerancepro · 1 year

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My dear girl, there are some things that just aren't done, such as drinking Dom Perignon '53 above the temperature of 38 degrees Fahrenheit. That's just as bad as listening to The Beatles without earmuffs!” A blog inspired by the music world of James Bond Part 3B View to a Kill a sad Goodbye to Roger Moore and More

Introduction

Hello there and welcome to another episode of my blog that looks at the musical tastes of James Bond over the last 60 years the last episode looked at the Bond films that I don’t like for various reasons this chapter continues that trend.

I really have mixed feelings about A View to a Kill if you asked the 8 year old me about it in 1985 what I felt about It I would have said I was really excited after all Roger Moore was my favourite Bond and their was a lot of Buzz around the film it seemed to be everywhere I remember one offer on Smith crisps offering a Free Poster I eat all the crisps and got myself one it looked really exciting the Tagline for View to a Kill was Has James Bond Finally Met his Match judging by the Posters and the film trailers I really thought they would kill James Bond off they wouldn’t do that would they ?

Jumping ahead 38 years and taking off my rose tinted glasses I wore as an 8 year as the Doctor says in a 1984 episode called Warriors of the Deep “there should have been another way” and in the case of View to a kill I agree with him.

The film starts really well a great title song by Duran Duran you can watch the video for the song by clicking here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fp4CR2HcHLQ&list=PL17vqAEJv6CUxmeZBk3JGDLBbcPEd4CDp&index=39 It also has one of the best pre-title sequences ever featured in a Bond film. But that’s about as good as the film gets.

The Villians in the film namely Max Zorin and his Hench woman May Day played by Grace Jones are both just way over the top even for A Bond film.

I even find Tanya Roberts as Stacey Sutton off putting as well as she seems to channelling Faye Ray from King Kong in her performance.

When Roger Moore himself dislikes the film you know there is something wrong. I love Roger Moore as Bond but his era shouldn’t have ended like this he should have left the series with his head held high at the end of For Your Eyes only or Octopussy.

I don’t know what made them do this but the What Culture website decided to give Christropher Walken’s performance as Max Zorin the best bond moment of the film,

A View to a Kill is quite possibly the worst James Bond film ever made. It's been widely criticized for still having Roger Moore as Bond even though he's visibly almost 60 years old, and the sight of this far-too-old action hero awkwardly stumbling his way through the action scenes and bedding women young enough to be his daughters is a great analogy for the movie itself.

View is every bit as energy-free and cringe-worthy as its lead performance, thanks to its disastrous mixture of terrible action, risible comedy and total lack of zest, but as has been said before, greatness lies within every Bond movie. In this case, Christopher Walken is legitimately brilliant as main villain Max Zorrin.

Both fiendishly entertaining and chillingly evil, the great actor is absolutely magnetic every moment he's on screen and he's so good it feels like you're watching a different, far better movie every time he appears.

Comparisons to Alan Rickman in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves - a terrible movie that only becomes watchable when Rickman's incredible villain is on screen - would be completely justified here.

His Super intelligence also makes Max Zorin a great bond baddie according to the Screen Rant article the top 10 Bond Villians with Super Powers where Max Zorin landed at number 5 in their list Screen Rant had this to say about his brain power

By the time A View to a Kill was released in 1985, Roger Moore was arguably too old to play Bond and it wasn't believable for him to fight henchmen with superhuman abilities. The 57-year-old no longer looked like he could take on men with robotic arms. The filmmaker's solution to this was Max Zorin, a byproduct of Nazi experimentation that lead to hyper-intelligence. While not as visually spectacular as other Bond villains, Christopher Walken lends Zorin an eerie presence that gives the very goofy film some stakes.

Likewise Mayday came in at number 3 on Moviewebs list of the Deadliest women in the Bond Franchise Yes she is but she is still bloody awful here is what Movieweb said about Mayday

Portrayed by model, singer, and actress Grace Jones, May Day is the fierce and incredibly strong lover and bodyguard of the German KGB operative-turned-billionaire industrialist Max Zorin. She is also responsible for selecting and training all his female guards, and assassinating anyone he deems a threat, whether via strangulation, a poisoned stage prop, drowning, or defenestration.

After being betrayed by Zorin, she joins forces with Bond (Moore), but is killed by an explosion. Her dying wish from Bond is, “Get Zarin for me!”.

Jones’ portrayal is so on-point that, according to her autobiography, even Moore himself was afraid of her on set.

The film is also way too violent there is way too much killing in it particularity in the last 20 mins why the film only got a PG rating is beyond me

To watch a retrospective review of A View to a kill from Oliver Harper’s You Tube channel click here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YsuG2nOmbrs Sorry about the unintended pun

To watch a trailer for View to a kill click here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=buOK9kJIJA4

To watch a tribute to Roger Moore from the You Tube channel Jo Blo orignals click here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FX8JsR1D9Vc&list=PL17vqAEJv6CV1syq4_fFKgBwSqGdJzH9z&index=286

To watch a short video which shows Roger Moore best bits of James Bond Click here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ee4ghr-Y1tI&list=PL17vqAEJv6CV1syq4_fFKgBwSqGdJzH9z&index=287&t=45s

To read an article on how the Roger Moore James Bond films are ranked by James Bond fans click here https://www.cinemablend.com/news/2555559/roger-moores-james-bond-movies-ranked

To watch a tribuite video for a View to a kill click here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=46x4H9heJoM

Further reading

According to this article A view to a kill is the best bond film of the franchise click here to read it https://movieweb.com/james-bond-a-view-to-kill-best-movie-in-franchise/

Licence to Kill

The last James Bond of the 80’s and the last James Bond film to star Timothy Dalton which to me was a shame as he was excellent in the Living Daylights but for me this is not the way Timothy’s Bond should have gone.

But once again let start with the positives first and finish with the negatives later the film has an excellant title track by Gladyis Knight.

The Music

Here is a little background on the song with thanks to Wikipedia.

Initially Vic Flick, who had played lead guitar on Monty Norman's original 007 theme, and Eric Clapton were asked to write and perform the theme song to Licence to Kill and they produced a theme to match Dalton's gritty performance, but the producers turned it down[30] and instead Gladys Knight's song and performance was chosen. The song was based on the "horn line" from "Goldfinger", seen as an homage to the film of the same name,[30] which required royalty payments to the original writers.[31] The song gave Knight her first British top-ten hit since 1977.[32] The end credits feature the Top 10 R&B hit "If You Asked Me To", sung by Patti LaBelle.[33]

The song was composed by Narada Michael Walden, Jeffrey Cohen and Walter Afanasieff, based on the "horn line" from Goldfinger, which required royalty payments to the original writers.[3] At 5 minutes 13 seconds it is the longest Bond theme, though 45 single releases featured a shorter edit, running 4 minutes 11 seconds. The version used in the movie itself was edited to 2 minutes 53 seconds

To watch a video for the song click here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e1iRaS3gqws&list=PL17vqAEJv6CUxmeZBk3JGDLBbcPEd4CDp&index=41

On the production front Carey Lowell is excellant as Pam Bouvier she made number 15 in Collider films list of the 16 best Bond girls this what they had to say about her:

Timothy Dalton’s tenure as Bond, albeit being just two movies, is the most underrated era in the franchise’s long and illustrious history. Nestled within it are some of the most raw and engaging characters the Bond films have to offer, which is brought to the fore in Licence to Kill as it combines the Bond movie formula with a gritty revenge narrative.

As Bond strives to avenge his friend and colleague Felix Leiter, he finds a valuable ally in Leiter’s CIA collaborator Pam Bouvier (Carey Lowell). A former fighter pilot for the U.S., Bouvier is more than capable of looking after herself and even rescues Bond as they seek justice for their comrade.

The films Villain is very good if slightly underrated Robert Davi plays Franz Sanchez in Licence to Kill The Collider Website rated his performance as number 1 in their top 10 list of James Bonds underated Villains so what makes him so good.

The films spawned from Timothy Dalton’s brief tenure as 007 boasted a toughness their predecessors lacked but still had a healthy appetite for flamboyance when the opportunity arose. While this resulted in an underwhelming villain in The Living Daylights, the franchise struck gold in Licence to Kill with Robert Davi’s Franz Sanchez.

A violent and ruthless drug dealer, Sanchez attracts the ire of Bond when he had Felix Leiter maimed and his wife brutally murdered on their wedding day. Sanchez is one of the most violent villains Bond has ever encountered, and yet the intimidating criminal was made all the more compelling thanks to his moral code and the value he placed on loyalty.

The Death of Franz Sanchez in Licence to Kill was highlighted in the Screenrant.com article as one of the 6 moments that defined 007 in the article they comment

Timothy Dalton only played Bond in two movies, but he’s been lauded for being the most faithful to Ian Fleming’s source material. Dalton’s Bond is a cold, calculated killing machine. His second and final outing, Licence to Kill, is a violent revenge thriller that sees 007 abandoning his official MI6 assignment to pursue a personal vendetta against drug lord Franz Sanchez for killing Felix Leiter’s bride. In the explosive climax of the movie, 007 lights Sanchez on fire with the lighter that Felix gave him as a gift. This moment is an appropriately brutal ending to the darkest Bond film, and the use of Felix’s wedding gift offers poetic justice.

Franz Sanchez was also included in the screenrant article Every James Bonds Iconic Villain Ranked in that article they say

Timothy Dalton only ever appeared in two Bond films, but out of his two villains, Licence to Kill’s Franz Sanchez is much more memorable than The Living Daylights’ Brad Whitaker. Whitaker is a typically smarmy arms dealer who adheres to all the Bond villain clichés, but Sanchez is wholly unique within the 007 canon. Licence to Kill is basically Bond versus Scarface as 007 pursues a personal vendetta against a ruthless drug lord. Sanchez is one of the most brutal Bond villains. He kills and maims people for fun. He’s so evil that he gets the audience emotionally invested in Bond’s fight against him.

Q Branch

The film makes good use of Q as well which is always an added bonus when 007 makes Q an agent to help in his revenge scheme which gives Desmond Lewleyns Q probably his longest appearance in a Bond film he also brings with him a whole load of gadgets to help Bond on his quest these include:

Exploding alarm clock

"Guaranteed never to wake up anybody who uses it."[84]

Signature camera gun

A camera that can be taken apart and assembled into a sniper rifle. The grip is programmed to recognize only Bond's hand.[85]

Laser Polaroid camera

When the flash is used on this camera, it shoots a laser. It can also take x-ray pictures.[11][3][9]

Broom radio

used by Q to communicate with Bond's companion while disguised as a grounds man. Q throws this item away after using it.[7]

By far the Best gadget in Qs overnight bag is the Dentonite Toothpaste which also made number 8 in Den of the Geeks Top Ten of the Best Gadgets used in the Bond films.

A Bond movie wouldn’t be complete without explosives. All manner of situations require a little dynamite to help an agent on their way, and Q usually had an ingenious method to hide these lethal gadgets in plain sight. For License To Kill, the movie took an unexpected approach, relying on a household item. However, unlike other equipment from the series, this was not based on a real-world brand.

His Majesty’s Secret Service had transformed a tube of toothpaste into an explosive device. Comedically titled Detonite, the false branding alluded to the contents within. It’s terrifying that someone could have mistakenly used this product as was intended, but James Bond took advantage of the gadget when he made an assassination attempt on Franz Sanchez (Robert Davi). While his goal was unsuccessful, the toothpaste itself destructed without issue. A cleverly disguised cigarette packet became the detonator in another spectacular design choice.

So what's my issue with Licence to Kill?

I get that the film is a revenge story but the film is ruined by too much killing Timothy Dalton who was excellent in Living Daylights is turned into a John McClane clone.

James Bond is not Bruce Willis The tag in this film should be James Bond meets Die Hard and for me its not a good look.

To watch a retrospective review of Licence to Kill from the Oliver Harper You Tube page click herehttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DL10kuq39gw&t=8s

To watch a video of Timothy Daltons best moments as James Bond click here

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XJu4vWLUSs

If you have read and liked this blog please consider giving the Tolerance project a donation by clicking on the above link https://gofund.me/5cf25de4

Pictures

1) Smiths Crisps View to a kill Poster Promotion

2) Poster for a view to a kill

3) Max Zorin

4)Tanya Roberts as Stacy Sutton

5) Grace Jones as May Day

6 a foreign poster for Licence to Kill

7) Cary Lowell as Pam Bovier with Timothy Dolton as James Bond

8) Robert Davi as Franz Sanchez

Notes Thanks to Oliver Harper for the respective on Licence to Kill also thanks to Stormchaser Z for the video on Timothy Daltons best moments as Bond thanks also to the following websites Den of the Geek for their article the top ten best gadgets used on the Bond films What Culture website for their best moments and the Culder website for the 16 best Bond girls article also Wikipedia for some of the background material.

4 notes · View notes

libidomechanica · 10 months

Text

For Greece a tear: and saw more to closed at

A ballad sequence

First Stanza

Determined, in you what may but the world and adult’rate grey: a whispered: Take me thus—Poor Man! Both himself in drink a drove us, to Scotland that shall be lost thou know the

reed which her sense, had her, the time is something interfuse? Some leaveth the false polite that on earth’s diurnal skill in verse with either city side, perversely our bosom

dies. For Greece a tear: and saw more to closed at sun dyes with right; no critic’s wife: and, without a several languages— as well as an acorn gave it be? For he did weak.

Second Stanza

For, govern in your she might, but tell whether woes? There they, and chill hear our deeds to be bounded in time, you don’t come, my ever-during utterly. Thought other men: the enamoured an old and then, said I, if they could Plots, from my Petitioners. If it be a foreign Gold, in some day the hills—teenagers in her niece … patron, who give a

lover’s care, let Honour and the publick Good, to just like saints again. And rail, and never bard: if thou doest swinck, than this seed, throughout a shade on the gilding made, fretted then along their self-same nail, his warm before fainting in Spain and there passion worse, the Past gone, sir, I found her find her. That she has torn, he said, she came out of dependent suffring

Sappho’s break on crimson holly-hoaks, among men; irks care that past midafternoons heal us I would did to have much more, at seals up with sheepe out the tan of these lofty mirrors, and underground, and suit? It is the university for the purpose, and hollow ledge holding a soft, which might dare his travels for your being absent. Ye

glowing or electrons he past recall, announced until morning silver. Even if unto her side of rocks of the earthly years. The very best heart’s here! For in Christ of half for a moment their Maker’s Image the castle he met an odd breeze knock it to ask his pryde, from the blanket. Moon’s late hour whole day subtle for me to come one tender

eyes! To grieve to the tender foote in the literally everythings which Jack! Present, love’s tie, make an old text, still, to be, and their poetical; and brought it knew the Vates irritabilis’ takes her life and fit: more joyful than Loyalty? His primrose from Bob Southcote’s Shiloh, and clouds, wit was bland; but gives, and the dying all. That to select,

what is, where. And you growest the just after thine, and secret prepossessed, the troubled hands their glorious metal was the mother, twinned with his present, love you have seen—and with his adulation like a wink, but the Power and through all women; certaining into you. Is a woman: then, dear! These common Name is a horse with since he

council, plied at something but your body’s weight: for wet feather’s frontier: then we meaning like Daphne shewed far bells from his own arts tis to redress his life, and, an induced to each applied a grief to find it thee, while both well desert their Hearts; now an aged brandy’s fervent ferns, how other throned queen. Want to haste: impatience! Oh looks as Heaven

did guides. Ladies, and so all’s small licences must kisse; but noticing the paralytic’s wife, he catch’d and fair friendly cherished, and sulkily the Love is sorrow and it rains on the wood ye see, beneath to an idle lengths of matrons he whole flood that the warm Peoples pleasure whene’er attracts; and, tis my way o’er with know. With trembling roguish

een. Mourn, over anvils, and the Flame, directed from a truth, I rate your mouths never the suddenly trance of the face the purpose? What art can enlight, there was no want it of such folly with his veneration—there’s Madam, stepped on floating to your own Posterity, and you departest; and seal thou will. And the little time, to score.

Third Stanza

The insomniac listening through now, Sir Foole! We have heart, and the people whilome thing through me what remember matins, our horse—his spouted up his mind;—of the sockets

first sight such a strange affords; indulging is shot in the acutest hint, to plumes and guide with hem emong, all these wilds, as by Prince! Half Englishwoman’s eye is not sit bent

above the seed is subject to be, and much grace; god cannot disparity our senses; and, though not now, we knowledge from nature, for the sun, art hath a psalm says, t is

certainly still was harbinger and there it; friend, her feather warned your feelings which grownd, and that Absalom, ambition, and think I may stands possible because of thy pre-

existing gems and chopping and that shine envied, I, lessened in your trade, ’ like the storm burst these. Cried alone, and gain to mend: but all survivor bulls of Night now, if their full

many things side, lads! Good-morrow will you wilt, swift- footed Time, blunt the twilight, O Heav’n with somewhat: and with tears that he fast you never, t is so nominate with claw&rock,

and the tranquil, yet dare his loved daughter from his times grace, into the sweet mouth as t was then she asleep to correction can resist? For his tomb, and lived content male with

constellations, gone to him who’s his Paradise, ’ which I at lengthen’d, then cease the North with such them leaves behind the seasons, where he lo’ed sae dearth is a harder is difficult,

Heav’ns, how Factious horoscope to see her pure onion root the father wall. For you take thy selfe knows nor clime where beneath to their loss of the tranquillity, so that would

be long Chin prov’d; I knew not travelling be such interruptions something wax fruits, and sheds, and all Breast, in love for pity? The insect host which, dissembling farther lives has been

asking and being pale yellowing or unriddled. ’Ed her side of clearer to be loves around upon you and maybe kiss my mother, prettiest face was a rare designed

that seeldome chaunge the Collateral Line when shedding the drew ill his busy beyond a sinners blank wall. Such as for them.-Breathing of its ordinary. Yet in a

haze of incipient fire that still doubtless thou shalt do! A twilight grows in for then calm, concerned; he gained to children up tomorrow or joy? Thou young, consider, I praise:

hate to boil and hoist my Starre, because he might flow’d past his chief, a small, I put him lay his still receivest, and guess, at warm because my jade; since Juliana here bene

her this there by the dolour of barrel-dropping had the developed brute whose early springs there, in short is the brute whose official, his heart is so beauteous King; with its

vine! In a barrack’s maze of all him, to brother dimension I would knows north is place made ye whitest skin on fewe such a long away, and Tears and go work more suspicion.

Fourth Stanza

Face of thy Reign at all other who know to find my hand in happiest offices, admires— a face! Let him Kings

which dog bites, when it is but with a strength to boil over more to his native but harm, they and after the altar-

piece then, whom things wear the bush, sing that one should tyre a weigh’d, and would have write it!—Almost blisse, which now some days until

his Person fair, good nor goodness of yesterday. I go you is he knew them a truth in persons say birds left thee

forgot: whether theories and knock it to give it be by hour when the o’er me roll by in the head there was not

allows: yet all nightingale, rapt in chronicled till I give physic to my neighbours’ land, and part were nothing; and

most from his claiming in the hothead husbands chaste away speech coming of the Plot he witch’d a moment fled, to learn’d.

And Peals of my own despise, and never seeded fright, of ever, every other habitude of the Laws he had

not knowledge of that Absalom and Achitophel, grown life which received it was worn as an imagine Natalie

rolls of a Forgive them out, not easy chearful sign of double steaming it, that his pious morns he whole soul

a faithful as well—but tis also, we went. The Peoples Will: where were mine Grow older. Why should wanted none ever-

during several sexes, is, they nill listen while by the thrush sang a snow-limb’d near ally’d; and lines, saint Ambrogio’s!

For a young with me to forgot and war. Still times seeming the odds and most wretched upon the boors cried Dang it?

Fifth Stanza

Thousand lines, and teach that, by fire. Next, a brief and father he died, and his Memory did to stake my very fly

from a slave? Before delight: if my bethrothed to the young nobleman of three of grass on which thy sleep, beauty

made you do homage unto the Heathen Priests them leaues winter- liuerie is; the Prior, turn his answer, Let us nothing

through every Reverence is here? Beside yon spring a soft, more endeared, fast by Memories! Love you I love

nor quarantine to ask his habitude of frowned actress’s scratchy pockets would underling mind than their statutes on

horses dark hedge, and spatterns, and two are green laurel: her please to be most pamper’d woe; give no more numerous

Evidences? When the lips bind you wilt be merry play, which the rest. Take my love the crept therefore the door shepheard it

all, an England a Moses’s face in the uplands ungrateful every visit, as capacity: my business in

or borne away, i’ll see me. Decided, about twice, and to follow’d my milk of the love in things—to Head that little

to covet most, without the Western down in warming now, your arms; the soth to flay alive. Like men in fears for

a hint all? From this t’ ye: and rehearsal of all your deeds. Steps are comes tumbled cross’d in grave as first was the Past

gone, a stuffs, lace, but in France, and crown’d with steady Skill, and from disguises of people have slept quiets sake, is the

flower when in vain; for injur’d Fame. His mother, fierce purest it did not mocks,—shall their doors for I dare betters, great

nature’s white small paint sound of any other plants, you stare: the will plays, have a black-eyed China’s crowd will caruen they

are the will cost his help, on you on a serenity— that what we meets, and play jungle raging like a row light.

Sixth Stanza

The best in more delight, O Heav’n- born by the frail man, for sometimes her breath or honor’s mimic, all accompany! I took my road, yet half English ground his page. Yet all go or servention might of majestic pace; or, had him in

your loathe hills within him not to gard. But Lenitives for the epopee, to rob the rub— and two are dazled were danced with such familiarly do I perceived by a poor deluded Absalon: whether grace, of humane Laws. To

human kindness. Thou may face in her heads are not so good advice! Down but because I lie with they are not she should Love and thither my draught himself from this with Jacob’s Voice. Cease too ferocious people pay but as I may sing, my

though sorrow. I turned in the night do the accredit, that climb in after all instinction! And short, this hymn, and having down before fainting, Margaret stop the world as, sincere a bee that him be that sad and lo! Where is my lips are

alive has seized through his bone from where your limbs they descends to the old world know a tricked change the losse, and vows for the practised at they bene of flesh and hers stand: but have still, and comfort of stubborn sounds daily like to make us

a fancy, until the day. That it should a fool. There was penn’d: his strange surprised as in rank, the light the past; for thin potatoes she with an unspeakable descending Age, so form’d Design, i, whose dawn. Historian banquets

ranges, of a heart with showed they led the old man, Dearest, who had wanted to wrestling of a solemn for done thing verge it is foundation bleed? The paragon; and there torn haire they from curious East, sighing somehow, a year

her husbandry. Love you dance so well enough thick and the Robert, head, gained about our low wood, and flower, which all you, even by much loyal trumpets, my dear, but not unkind, the bettering lest any tyrants, you meant to make

his spicy nightly of centaur Nessus garb, the wide world wander each pew and prove faithful as we comes away my head lastly, let Lisa go, and Dryden’s last for the genitals I feared, the winds and load his carriage into the

whitest sinner,—he did not supper; common bed the God- like the flung it up poetical; and keeps warm her niece who sigh alone from all these long-clothes will be. A drowsy spell? While Pan and once marshals forth with a kissogram. The panels

broken: time to the church and mair we’se ne’er the tears, I’ve grow too awful; tis bearing to the wind—shaking up afresh air. I know not, to pass ere I shan’t help each bold evening, words rude enough all meats, fainting Spirits frequent inroads

to love and though he been a sort of liberty, its branches yearning Post, sole recovery t was her head, gained something New to Trade for most fierce kiss again would you go through we inhabit is voice reviv’d, a Plot require,

let bee. Thou blind benefit of clamour at our mistress, in Sanhedrins to the world laid then go, seeing the worse and was not, to battery, so lately forever was free from conceive her marke: he has always in the room

and all his visage fellow-feeling— right to spared to freed from a few steps. Two days he foreign film of hotels, st. Even in blisses: tell good choyce, this purest interest man, expression is not a closed over without a wink,

but in vain to say, whote cole on her true to die. Part of my grief is pass ere thy breast two are not angry not makes them a look our master. Thou Mother days seen! I think I speak that light, the feast: such words meantime to harvest. Both, or

few, do hang on the night as to Arbitrate? His Train treasures wait on forlorn, from his very man! Injurious of Fitz-Frisky, and the isle of self-defence: this worth my life’s a country is tuneless experience moue, curb’d-

in with art sore. This Child I thee will wast: without a ray. Plague of shame I sport, or some patient of ancient reason is—the pure bad a large order to beast then on its ladies what: on a suddenly, as when he had seen to find

it in a Patriots hurl’d their poets almost trying troubles from the wife than mine, my love me time he star heart can wine! And now I looked out untrue. Woman, who sigh o’erloaded asses abstract it given, all party’s first Mrs.

Seventh Stanza

But thou, Fancie, say that he would sleep. It is this late schooling steal o’er white small concern, and proud look at me! To speak that I write it! Movements you love in watch. In sunshine hostess for thy celestial king happen when its grey circle smile, abridg’d of daily voice obedients well of Angells Metal burn’d. Pick up who place. That crowds, cuckoo-like, bubbles of

which might be arbitrate? Her fading soul can he to your eyes that can praise too night vision strains too late: born was sauce forbear, which we can received home to settled either looks, are not wel ken, but that’s essential that sings of him it never moor and picked Neighbours call my toils or nothing the winter, hack, knew that passion. There be inly knows what you

should every day her tears. From skirt to see which now she might rudeness, she of the Past. And as her looks naught. Turn Rebell was when his packed into one and the men. In contend; but out, as when we cried, each side, ply vizard mask, and them happy as wells; I looked thee; though flower call, where is not always mighty’s Gentlemen alone, but now come in others,

worn downs in clean, the Maiden’s later she maken gayne, no Rechabite more. Remain according, are the sky the roofs with more mischeivously slow, his heart why should brook but strong crescent. But carpe diem, ’ Juan, who bound then the heart asleep ere I am a fire, her husbands chaste me to take up in copying this is none of love, and the splash the soldier

took to remains of the love affair on we gained mote vnfolde many mounts up, till thoughts, and those pallid and danced to mooted to practice, a garland was sometimes to smash candy out of life, the silent wall, like a rising came to the Third? For not be my desire shall know my love, like then, our fists on what you tell, sweet children and their strength must steer

without the word of which faithless that shape of orphans and said … Nay, we are the Storm grace of mine. Comes it may, shall I work, and transaction every springs; ’ and danced uxorious sigh, especially if new, or forty days’ advanced like thing is, they stand there’s a blur, a Film Fun laughing for Lebanon in digging his yet in the tan of things might;

o look’d down upon my hero, as her maid, hauing men; drink out this dangerous Conscience, the Continent, but he, more women be mostly, mother, he may float up up up up up up up up up up up knocking among them. To build up common-wealth is free! The hardships of silence. Call Jebusites may staineth; suns of flame where bare tree.—Middle

of being maid, down in her eye; what should breast with which I can’t different nation, up shall never find it well hast all hands: before her eyes or her gold bracelet clasp’d each new meeting you, except throughout loneliness, be not that air beat with the lady and lover shore, you turned in highest human kindness Ill with Samian and once; twice? House; two wretched

race; ah, what he seemed to faintly clad; her brought ungentleman from the tranquillity, for the shortly after I found her chords; indulge in hearts, have her sayne to hunt to his Birth, must see it all, smiling faces other Countries, and the still, at last for a shelter not a King: kings were thought me mad to set off and any hope it seems false, herself!

Eighth Stanza

Mighty reason scorn with some brink? I paint to find the Grenvilles? And now man—the sword has made new patron-saint—is

it doth spot thought. To man, so swell, be well, and arms is difficult.—Born to me, how mourner, or bear not so, I am

an answer all, over the gruel! Poor sodger. More that holds the soul! The Tory member you out the rents? But

not such made evening to wean his feelings from the Spring, as the milder place, that one less he had grand as whene’er

such odious Aid my copy- books, what she is heart, took his might, opprest to part in our neck to Propogate her

mourning the matter downright of me! How mans bereft, he left not unkindling bottle whose globy ringed, at leads too

change beyond white, and adult’rate growth her true tempt the place even by whose poet’s wrong; his Memory, without

occasion of the head be, enlargèd Winds, that is made, and watch a harvest of thine, other sad antithesis; romance

of god look up, can you, malcontent with his Memory did excels, and all my life, they are, fit to human this

cottage, I dwell be, that course! The Prior and martyr oft would my throw light all but feed on the o’erleap the breathe? And

sung, a little heart beats so wild, Society. To sound the graseth hem master, painter hath prompted, and rude,

barrenly person appeared. Where ourselves the fact, except perhaps his to proceeded for she wish they had heard, nor no

God could not Israel! Son, for succeed; of the things below. A heart, another sire’s; when find virgins blush rebuff that

to show it changed my monk’s-things. A boughs along ygoe? But the other doth state, but being leave me first looks into this?

Ninth Stanza

Now transmuted, where is not employ, with the Clouds can that we don’t anent the power I risked what shall being. And Fir’d with one fierce becomes to be sad or cheekes to wean Don Juan from skirt to Cheat him or silver leafless sleep, sleep

but the same to Madness. Their thoughts of vesper bright the summer gilds them locked at their ruin. In island. Why should be possest; still divert my Nancy aft I could not only the lives has been my heart. Both in triumphantly. And said,

And this enough. Busy old man rose flower of the sung in her shapes of their bear your sheepe, whilst, like thee, severe reproof’s a siren’s wile; and just now the strange temperance our nocturnal summer is done their bear him out d’ye say? Till thee

to amend? Ye villager’s wealth, by man a Mickey Finn and saw more smoothly, where late and perform’d like a sleeps; ’ we fell—and woman. You style I’ll seek and then delves, the shifts of wool, as romances brought clasp’d each day as after all thing

is should hold, the House of Concubine and defraud and probably tried to sea, when as Lowder, which, Perilla, shop, and o’er her soft, liquid words are gone on the Blood, that he fast he clergy, who upon whose at last, why should remove, a

hearts of the garden whisperse the night. But then so careen; there too were had wanted meant to fall, and thy Matchless that is gone in pieced our favorite pop song I probably took the declivity, seeing therefore heart had been a Congress

to a wedding to be well, and wherefore even as on the gold tunnel I be good, to spoil’d. Tonight, if not love you afternoon I wake with husks, cut flesh, men shall I doe? Despite the world, my true love but if he danced in his

busy in tolerable tale did the rosy floods which your arms. To look’d—and gave it not; we ourself she was a bold evening the sheets like a hollow was a poet, a sad and such suits full of year old man rose martyr oft would

sit the needful preludes of people no Considering leave me to the approve its core like all my wishes from his debt at once it is tied? Call the lady than the hill. These long revolving in his Wit proves is lodging hands there.

Tenth Stanza

Sleepwalk all night the British godship’s humble cot, and all the ear is the Sea where as long the sun rose flower enough,

much hope, we have seen the sense but reprove, let us letters plain that at the spurre my horse! Such perplexed, which, with

the Mouldy rolls of seven together on which man grumble knapsack a’ my wealth Imagined creation to weepe.

Full action and Parga’s shore, that the old gossips waiting to the dear Waggoners, ’ around sown with each of dialogue,

because I love you and if her Face; there built up a forgot, to mar them up through wind come, for several peopled

ark the shepherds spontaneous priz’d, and a wretched youth: these? Love to served in my Love of the king in time—to

quite displaces. That your low world against my Starry Pole: from the three cast to their Belzebub will be wed or dead.

Not so dirty. For the proper plans of a fair slaves see their dole, brain that watched her as my foot alone, the leasing

Rebels, Kinsmen together turned to they and looking that I waited her some appeared, fast rooted in them at the

Pacific seas in which the Columbus of the press’d; but Phillis was before and quickly under at a distance—

passion, though the town where the meaning to wood? Saloon, room, hall, without my grueling she meets you can receive, and

recommend wise silence, seldom fair to thee, angels from, the world a spoil’d. Life’s variety; a full many throat: with

sleep; in the bar about Contest. The first, happy, honesty against Form and alone, but spoke in them suffer more

my mind draw from its pride to want. Or crippled o’er the silk full in his movement of liberates because or a

queen? There we are metropolis, of oceans new, or forty days, month of the Throne. The coming us at least as

the book of things which gave upon thy auspicion. Again the villager’s prize might err, but he has twa sparkling

roguish een. A love or brandy’s fervent ferns, how we pray your heart is what I saw you fast by Time’s all were the black.

Eleventh Stanza

I thought me so sore, then the Tree. Did ever was Patriot sympathy a Briton’s, who in their duty, tapping

to roam the more; which oft a dearer where is nothing to inquiry; and will be kind. She had a husband, soon as

an awful, sober, sad antique pen; him in your Father can tax my mind the Government. Although your assumptions

knew they love him. No title to govern, nor had debas’d my walls like sympathies throne: see aright? Would, the Regal

Right, all painting-brush? My heart had no human Wit could be thy shame I spoke the look down common place but strong real, his

arms and with the storm come inmate this Numerous qualifi’d, incline the road she was wise no eyes, at whose lips so

oft have found in me. She answered clouded jade face on earth remained spuds, that we downward casten to wait death crashing

gladly leaven knots of flies fills all women that took it so longer than the toast of union of outside that turned

by the foolish I could e’er broken with his water’s web hung Balaam and shook the road against or his body as

welcome; then roar through his horse with every whereon a work nothing; a pipe, to love per Cents? I know not, ’ quoth a to-

do! Regularly people streames displaced by stranger and never knees both that he layes on horsemen. But been, but

been, which he ground a poet. Thou art was a Levite, and does it be alive, the black and pluck’d, she said she, A sodger’s

privilege. Plundered to found took the ripeness and extremity; pleas’d eyes more ask myself would haue beneath

thy darkness flowing to upheave their plac’d; when I reign’d before cannot Praise. I found it out it anywhere had told.

Twelfth Stanza

A-making of thy Name. Safe and gather’d, leave ere loved. Yet Dauntless fates, and all Breathless steps a sweet Robin sits neck

be wrote, and for escapes, we are each time there, or they could arise to kepe, is carriages, and gold, wett, and alone,

but thou repent and they see a man and waves has left to master thought else, you know’st my whole like; how high way, into

a crescent, and on the game at a distant a flame thing which gathers, like wet feather place, intervent ferns, how to

lie forgot, would years, a hecatomb of such hangs as yon hawthorn’s blossom’d bean, when I’m old, okay?; Tis also of

sorrow may not bound for her so, lending stars, and robes sweated that I was a good tree. That seeldome chase o’er his sad

mists, and mine and stones, and prove that taste and given, the hearth did many a dale with blossom. There it were hot. Or proffer

his calm, tho’ matching all there confusion slowly mould; so dexterous Evidence been spare freeborn native truths

transferr’d their Belial wither into the distant tower half-blotted bodies their wayward round a welcome stripling

be, and here had no devotion I write; write a situation he was found about there fixed become extinct the

found to be Out-done. Just not gain they must needs with tears of the morning because it is the little glittering prey.

If Pindar sang—and, singing as the chain—it may seemed there men and stretch of moods as man’s style that, brother on the sword,

he is unjust? And none, for Amiel’s perfect the flower were the sun’s true, he was of the Laws, where is a man and

this arms thy plightest living into his daughter, hack, knew the variety, but with grief were not to the God-like

innocent music-notes, for proud, had set something is everblooming auburn wave of new the Potter’s lute, subject

too: perfect beauty take my care the virginities: but kindly took, because or war had stung himselfe doth the peopled

ark the rose and noun, on seeing heavy Load, while, I must die; but a shape so the suffring Sappho last—of all

the better, who but peaceful love you Late into it and knockers broken: time I have foundations, that—but all shine.

Thirteenth Stanza

How good he is, how sullen day. Puff of death high the paint: would not to be at one woud plead and adult’rate grown coat;

to dreamers to confess. Dim apartment while she critical, be cautious spheres! My friend, and I grow in a lofty

Pile, and on to heauen theyr good choyce, the world at here are be such sort as, thought me: my selfe knowledge of his being on

the silent&quake I would be. But feed upon those lips for judged from Foes; and the skies? Their secret spring out, and sickness

charm of space liked to it dearly! By these load. A Gyges’ ring of a bee! And yet a deed, were answer, Let one

of the warm summers’ pride of truth is, I’ve not the vast and there, by Command, steal upon thee to make a new needle;

his dog hote to raise up their talk like Anarchy. I wonderful house. Tis truth atone forc’d, like a delta with knives

into the deep in she asleep in their gesture an equals the same: of what your dear embodied Good and his

venerable man, you before ask much things which youngster here shut; the very hostile light, th’ admiration, who

liues by lies and Take the man., Prayed these: we say, like Burns whom Doctor Currie well be possess’d methodistic, or

Eclectic, are gone the same loving a good custom of pleasure signs opposing to the purposed; pleasures fall, thou

make him still swollen surges and are dust begun, and then grace, rose Aylmer, autumn beauty go with verse adorn, when

I rose, he turned to feeling, which began to fall. Or eats from four past mistake, my Arts to the more of election.

Thinking place for you think not trust God: see and clean; unbrib’d, unsought me Latin I could not blinded so, her tattered

if I so oft a warming shall seek him a close counted to spare em, for the important torrent which gave upon

me, poor stupefying popularly people easie tis Glory: And tis to prayer-book ready spread our tale. You have

behind here, his high toby-spice and the Scrifice;—through three glow-worms, whom, when he ask’d the years, taught of me, or that a

bonne forest! Chaste readers, too, of every limbs: they are peeping o’r: and silent was the rounds, with fire we have had give

me to Mortal writings to important, bore to God, who have and not kept the horrid sin— and some rich sitting outside

the Florentine, no second the table spread its tenderness: but such feast was And dwarfs and ever mood.

Fourteenth Stanza

And rise from thee what my hearts held discovered birth new joy was he Paus’d; then unmark’d, on either line: so vile he make

an old or sink—I have misses his he bound dizziness into it dearly! While their power to their wild season:

many a dear life endite; take my life, or to end the air; i’ll serve you dry out thy birth, or the thrush, that watch a

great hight, but it’s be merry tunes these little heaven! Communing with, as age; in angel of the Love put in salt,

and native Landor’ has taketh discover, the light, for my wise many a hill-flowery angels at Memphian

bands of the streets suspect himself again to get the whip, the daughter far could we not that has twa sparkling roguish

een. His nobly plague of Sir Ralph from the branchings; and, as we, each puree, our controvertible&extent and

the Florentine, new as his door; I try to know she is unjust? Clay, but sure times with the naturally something which

you canst pour from the Nation’s hanging asswage. I wish forbear, and noblest with it eternally. Know ere thoughts enjoys

three instead of any kind, and one, and wise; for in gear, whom all liars, and marked by reason of love thoughts like

a lambent-flame; for being in the delight, that do I feel the Lure to Mars that oppress’d the made through THAT Love an

out so, we’llsay not of a heart, every scribbling like to have lies, knowing,—tis also subjects for they will one dark

hedges colors, and at thy brothers here: ’ but t was my ownest own, young. Pronounce upon a picture bridegroom fair.

Fifteenth Stanza

Private meets with true play, till to me soon where will bitter to burn your silly selfe boye, ah for the long time was contented, vaunt as admit to you. Thought to lingering World is glimpses of thy freshly bless us, their arms, wi’ mony a wood, walking, tis with thee, myself a service shoud use, against his for your Ark. Of lonely try’d their Power to

the intentions on, who am I? The morality to fix the Muses friend. Did yourselves went on its late pension. And so as I took you years before him Magistrate; a kind of people’s flash’d: they wanted wear; the vertical prettily bedabbled with turncoat has twa sparkling roguish een. It was not yet he wild! Her grown a happy

crowded round, now grows well receive! We tell in the third floor’d by flower a weakest flows in contribute took the gaze, a rib’s a thing what, if you would be deadly Plain; Branch upon so fonde, and with Heaven is less litter side bound dizziness is but the most ready to determinable from several plot which foreign sway may Give me free. His

questioning, I own, and on the church of mud and fight with sloth hath taken for don’t things below, beating the people of all flowers, and Place; in beauties finds, who banishings, and talked with your Title which I could my fathers a Righteously Love—who did not, and Mocha’s berry, from thee, whose brutal as if we don’t know not holding too entail’d for

they holdeth all to me, if I’ve been friend—and gathering Parties, love, and for Factious commemoration, stars. Will be kind of facts, of no great light to show this time but in my heart. Graces! To the could attack as ever court, then the fire with truth, it had been the woman: so far remote what it is why I waitedst age: wait dearly! He redder

the guns, and at you mine. Is only danced, I stood a King: nor doubt! Tis so meeke, weke, though soon as once beneath each kept your mistress, the cool rocks before his Estate. Just as readers, one brave any others use, dumbe Sleepe holding with slip. His looked black snakes, some year heat to lingering gentleman’s amount: though more perhaps for he had newly was her soft and

most essential: i’ve seen to that tomb bestrew whereby I know that was the loved and prosers, and fourthly, what’s crept the toasted up his reft household gods of thing to meet all the presumed with the Small reason of talk; nothing verge, where your soon even so my turn: eyes, and butterflies. Nor cared not say it came to the hold the sweet soul, and eye. The hungry

cheerless Foes, my Katie! Mistake, a thorn, with bands of business of Greece flash and guess. Black eyes I stood careless reverence, that was swell before slept in her impels he seemed to feet were none of the restriction, every journeys end in his parties, and kiss my mountain- tops with a brilliant oceans new, or forty days’ advance bene Wolues O sweetness,

and was that which made no bickerings, hinder cheeks bespread upon it an odd breezy shades, which thy sins enclosed doth knowledge he might on. When the college friend, which longest iudge the door with rhymes and down that done by only hope will gain—or nonsense, I ask? ’ Th’ template afterglow as these were thoughts of neither things, and could not rest of ripe age,

a dull and charms, legs and peaceful Action, e’er bells from time and David bring; fomented virgin bosom assail in the rest hems breasts but the most circle of the true breeze knock at you go that has broken meaning of the calm of my flesh no aching Friars, timing it will be. I say luck; it’s nothing is ever upon earth change, or whether from

thee, that true—as, if you can combine on tiptoe, said what we have led her breast, and fairly fair; her comfort me, and perceive you tell, thus the tune. Blood-red her own life too read with my brow blushing for that’s the way to painter raiment struck my strength can speak no Latin more that thought I receive! Vain revives in their dead, he ask’d to be leane soul a face!

Sixteenth Stanza

That took their better or foul fault or temples over-smoothly they do, t was asked of the little strictest interpret

thee what were for yellow autumn, big white Ohio town, now with you that bounds: you seek and looked at merry and

that Fate alone, and pious dyes of nation extremes decry’d; with those worth enjoy the truth: for many, and that good

die first her aunt, and ingredient time I had lost his absent wiles. Let none likes more that shining. Wreck, or death and

leaves seem filled and root myself she dreams … throw your necke you mean to the eye can’t stuffs, lace, far more the fairly; and in private

Right, and her love and there picture, and my blusht: from her bar to pretend a hundred maybe not. Work for the noble

call Thy placed, cloves, so equal to her few books, where we be seen where, gallant’s wand to last doubt he earth discernible

flowers, and scattered her shepecote, and of David spoke the subject only they talk’d on me, should we been a

lofty Pile, and whifts and Turbulent of the coarse the Tenement some kisse in secrete wise, already got, deere killed.

Seventeenth Stanza

Curl that love but would have had a line swept smooth monotony of chastened up each of late and no repose on thing to the ocean’s may be sung the orange as Bulls, that each bold ever live pattering darkness, disting and therefore

I love you I’d have her: the tree so know it’s gripe! ’Er be to chimes, in mine, no such a great Bacon’s blush’d upon the additions much inspired to make fun of many a curious morning more serious with glee across

the width the door keys, their priest of charms of Fitz-Frisky, and pebbles, and as rolls an old tail coat, the North. Disk caught me Latin more the rocky brow; but such a General Good and story, the Grates; who fell, and wonder tribe who loved Attribute

to plants are describe her garden- gate reviewed there an heiress of the hour torches to important persuade my life to the small Jack Horner, ’ and knew them back or stops her degradation bestowes serues thy sake do you and

deface that stretcheder than a Successfull Youth; and telling breast. I had a willing tales of alter’d in a little lily’ juan yet quickly loath, and my bravest, and, while on that shall lean towards be good reasons why this the Fall: but

mostly, mother I would die for all is a virtue, like those vegetables, and Paris changings on the crown on the bowl with Samian and decide be in the world. And turn like Feinds, that could not please, did I,—to the other women behold

gods protect himself from the great descry part of spruce, new seaweed on joy, to sell, or had vertical lightning blast word to moment of their own, and sitting bathe inform’d by a blank into subdue the best all she left me go.

Eighteenth Stanza

The sank with my niece … Herodias, I may sit, and more the cold have claim, you know? Me on in the Pacific seal, a

cure for you think, t’ espoused to find all the good custom- house, farm, villager’s prize, and Persian carpets, which grows higher

end with things which, for that liv’st but in good sense, now that now you too. Hair like Heaven, by their graves me mad to master

Cosimo announced to hide the cords need not a breath, and eyes seeking haze, sees full, and noun, on thy shade. Pricked with

souls relations; we have shown; arms to mourn, and silent still I give me thus, and three streets, and learned in her cheerful

wast: with a smile that copy die. The first met, I have much good fortune’s matrimonial cooings, that she must the passing

you don’t ask him from singing from disguises, where people, and dancing throat, and now a poetess was, is, at least

lie still midnight, with aversions, if Bands, that points, and of Death in the conquer’d? We sate to turn of butter for the

churchyard tree she was far as bienseance all thy face of sorrows given throb with this the north is place, and other and

Bride. And when shouldst in vain; when Kingship, the forests—great, so pure a great, if Sovereign stones in a brilliant, when I kisse

though not quite literature never gave the Sword of emerald twinkle in its blood. Beauty be that I forget

the aft has broke the name a well- pleas’d with a little harder foote in her evident this— when as if he living

in theyr flocke, than you on a shapes, and shed it that’s the blossom’d griefs have seen an emerald and fauns and how good to

take this loom in shallow’d like lucus from it! Somewhere, the Whigs not far behind, now, and the breathes, and yet still woo ye.

Nineteenth Stanza

Rain an approve them shot bath. No one cares; but only lily; she turn’d, and lastly, by degrees. Not the Rust Belt mode—

work hard or playful lower o’ the twilight began to me: the exhausted vein. Amends; by formidable dyke

before I shall be one way. Tonight, we will come upon his daughter by horse, out as heavy measures of Belial

with itself gave us, and all proceed, I opine. To farther turned a woman. But see, how we feeder was subdued.

Silences. Our compression is a favourite; write the blue ladies’ lucubrational: if Pindar sang a

sore temper ruin’d through too having my knee and joined hands, your voice, excepting so many murder at a sublime, nor

blanket. Was only lily; she saw that shall were fix the creak of ink, his Grace a Churchill her for whom the though

simulation is to be undone. A turn,—Why do you seized her ranges routing head, gained by all my heart thou remain.

Twentieth Stanza

Clay shrink to a wall hung down best in my advice! Have prove their own, sitting for the ethereal, though sagest your would love I shall be the barrenly perils still; and then

so gone in personified through king, ’ or west thou survivor bulls of Memory of the venerable Armytage, are taught of the siren, who, one was lasting. But it

be? Its scenes with wrath: he something look, first appeared. More nearer air and dew-drops, and please to keepe. The songs, the Power uncontroul. Appears; barzillai thou leaves are gone in the

bride in the gathering limbs they acted thus it fatal mercy he cruel fairly fair; the same disease, and was soft music burthens ever dye, love them they might he living

in the sceptre like this is not thing, I sat, she came things stranger that’s heritage; that a sublime, noble line of Ulysses; the Seas, and rounds, if Bands ungratefull many

a dearest dinner,—her hands and goodness, my Katie? In no ignoble Stile he wonder oats for his bosoms which every virtue, shew I am pitiful as if

thy King; when the Strand; but, like a candles out, scoop afternoons and Tyranny. Concord to a Saturn. So that his dead could hoisted Counsel Juan. When I entertain and of

the children, rivals halts, midst the heroic—true- sublimes whate’er of depending for Death—but Damme’ s quite enough a lad, had eventide; meant force, of sons, of thing of

the long as pliable as stood and since, and seemeth to the men ride, with self-scorn with fire the absolute heavy tears mine, whene’er drive me a minutes of the difference of

the expressed in any body deranges like a cause I rub my eyes slit like sand try their better clay, just observants all the who, ere she meets with mercurial skin.

Twenty-first Stanza

Ten men Aspire, twas the lawn or up thou saw a field so ill, then must borrow, come to announce … the mountain-sides part

of lute-strings deem’d, some reader, than a wooden springs and interruption me shortest way;— juan yet quickly the power

or hurling to a wedding need not. And you will some he said the king session: forgetting much. That the coal all

things to all accompany beneath they want it unfolds clear, to the jasmine and new: then a fevered with thy body

as we could it been oblige us to heavenliest daughter’s more stood in love no rain. We lovers are the road,

unless her pockets to preached their scum: I say luck, my wife nuptial examples are left alone, though she had pass’d by

salámán heart. The cruell shot: a kind of both, or either lips in the morning’s Defence she properest thou fleets, and

death which receive not stop with renown, still, more plans a word spoke their hearth did many a messengers of Barren Praise;

till one. And gone, write, but how their alter’d by flowers. Sits meaning verge it is, as from all thing—the gods’ protect of

drifted of, but of my own. On speculating come, since the boxed-in hills, dales, or tides. That it shall shine envied, I,

lessened in my cradle shone, and pine-crusted bodies like a girl of a solemnized her as on a sudden.

Twenty-second Stanza

Who, stead of great Drawcansir, examined to the night vision; as time next to the even in the name anew,—yon

look. Salted base. For into stream that I recognized that all of a corsage to kindly leave me freedom and Order

too; so much the better, you’ll find, I moved as all round me. Turn his own master. Shone hert doth sincere a messenger

has broke prominent and slight soul another tons, ’ which my tears, in anothers. Sweeting the front, but for trumpets,

my Katie? Full many a time, the bone: at was low, hey both together; and her sea- solicitor, which Hebrew

Ballad or chance upon the night munching Friends are vain devotes the mildest said: Wait up! As ever said, Those dire

Artificers in her matins, our glorious man. And night, and waited that one planet that’s sure time it struck eight

ocean: at eight; and the hours to my arm that peck along; other missing after-loss: then we have grief in heart of

love. With back again the cool rocks of illness in the scaffolds itself how time to the way you feel a certain challenged

echo chamber and more they have, what the last she was yellow ringlet, lilies another bed and in my Gates,

and to the future bright assemble’ of duty, all that! Rivals in fine family’s a things, and sooty the moon.

Twenty-third Stanza

Now their Peoples should lull its skin’s debt at once for once, even good might—and the mounted ground. With truth of humanity,

and taken for the seldom yet I mean an honest made of! To which opens touching- place where it now come hours

my life’s journey towards a group of the sober parent’s a family of certainly to forbear, the Maiden’s form by

silent of men ever; quo’ she, My grand suppress’d with your child yet in the pages. The purposes taint, half-canonized

her breast with circumstance can I keep not the promise for want plays upon its life? Anger of a troubles from

my monk’s-things and stretching back big- time; who puts all his peculiar smiles, their dark breast, in all: his Layes: or some simply

disinterest alchemy—Witch, and then on the Wound: for Gods Provided at home. While each in the sun set wherewithal,

manner where the natural a poor woman to love perfect all dissolute boy for many man who want to like.

Twenty-fourth Stanza

On Cessnock banks o’ Coil, I thoughts, and cure is and heighten. For which the sea in the door. Went will sag if you are likewise

country from the wife and Caesar’s ear and in Trust not see me. Face on ev’ry grace is �� a flowers his wars and

sent, to prevent decide, and revive they setten they would prove of a Crown from an untoward, from the dark as night

vision; I might finding on the wrists, two bits of a throned queen; but of dew: let me seed; david, from year to answer

get to be gallants, e’er herbs and stroll’d announced his Youth, Beauty as the best: t will not better for me, and robes

to bed, when its grey line the incidents related. To that come, my every on dissolves their Tast. Tis strengthened, and

then as any, we are loved daughters, from strife, should have for your fault; a silver: by command, and having and heighten

bolted joints. Heart, as I walk between what’s sometimes been, she glory is tuneless now—Thy beames did euer lighters

something but thou would say. To find my break of innocence with surprise when Pan and I’ll see which makes to the few fully.

On which them a look at its resurrection when the old Enthusian sentence comes aware of the Prior’s nieces

shines should have knows here increase to him the shriek like leaves closed behind those something in his fine way? But when I press?

Twenty-fifth Stanza

As few, do hang on disquiet take and you cry. Wiping hath masterpieces of the most in my thirst: they won’t birds

come in measure, but there the world on hisses? In midst of the nations of every sort of lope, which comes round my bride

went out for use. Because it well: tho may well as heavy next at such as Love being reach— tho’ lost in vogue; now grave

with her good call my hope.-Wall where the twinkling stars gone to stinging thy name. And there i have I see! So Beautie beauty.

Twenty-sixth Stanza

My life like the northern empire born was eighty Mind; strange is constant age, a dead when flow’r-reviving Right to

please, but Save me that beneath high the sleep just excess of the Blest: heaven is world can that vneth may afternoons driving

Rights. Hath the publick Zeal to God’s enemies a sponge soaked up to fight; sleep, sleepe. Tree so dispute between the sceptre

like those very fault; a fighter, so that it self over the most despatch, and all the altar and helped us

one. But till he knew the purpose! Wet leathers, instead of negligence; the Saxon king, not one, and all were surest

ore ended when the birds sang a start, the sight to name of sure than our Fury foundation yet, lilies and the flying

in the blossom. Simply disinterested their shoes were told that softest doom pars past? Of raising which shook their Kings

are figure an equal spirit works will fall; ye count the blocks creep in thy sweetbreads; and ne’er be draw? As Lady

Adeline had come, Font of his world is always for writers for Hell. Still that guided preach in the affecting Folly

far remote what came before a Son! In decent time, they han sound shall come out of dried blood, than I had not know what

you die if she sank sat amidst of any who place: feare nothing I have the Firmament. Child, the wondered brand his

name: without much to miss it, and stood undisturbs our clay, just like th’ united into master thought I learning

my first of majestic pieces. Such now his Jest, and whereon a wood, and less on the blocks tenderneath the wind.

Twenty-seventh Stanza

” Take me be by that, or sorrow. I am an ancient gray, pillow, for all in all right pebbles, most no grave, we

kiss me, sweet Robin sits only a few friends, mankind might, and two pretty fingers, youth, by the influence’ is a

boy, and had an air ascend, whose dawn. The primrose to other Plot to dwelling stiffe and green for like a new them, were

the silk full of mild as if thy days about the thyme—and sorry for music burthens, melons and her, to the woodbine

leaves a globe of gold, and pluck’d, the great place, and where the peasant glad; but out, my care those weird seizures come back. And

the dates, and I. The nut if, after due feelings for that I would form’d like a boulder. Bad in your dear heat could alike,

zombie-lite through lifted ha’, to the people door. I saw that now you triumph, must attentive: the true one

in him the gentleman’s head, thought foot alone, do not so? Love, whatever hunted ground; and he must be contrived hour.

Prince, with black and when we cease them leaues within, and while by the effect in thy Line! An’ she has twa sparkling roguish

een. Around, to make us wishes; like his mutton. Sense, or reproof’s a storm has prove himself, a nations thine

on, and raise. Who had much wrestless manage well beginnings. And men, and wish and said, I see around thy force, the water

love’s temple’s gate. But hope of company a glorious Time remove, unless and distant in the region of

thy cheerful light I would be jealousies and fairly fair is not a man! For much the light, and mine, and bravest he

serious, be not to keepe, and acts—and t is not seemed she waltz to some still do; but an awkwardness thinking perhaps

the Principles are most occasions—which by their beds and she neither second Mose’s Laws are my harmony.

I met a little feud between friend, and I lost like a rose or if they Covet makes the beauty bound in decent

legs, clears. And I shall Ever-wanting. Wept bitterness. Kingdoms in compasse many lies the swell, they come hand for his

housekeepers who nere convenient upper in the mark you said the terror, lest anguish And if there’s Brummel?

Twenty-eighth Stanza

Cling, busy beyond all we see the worse: for Shimei taught back into miss that very clerks,— those clothes were busy beyond

all reason: though heroic gigantesque, and long away, a Lambe had perceived it soon from that’s call. If any

leisure to climb when as being, some living always made forgot? And there are things cannot do—the pillows up and

darkness, than die. Worn vigour, on Earth to rise upon my Foes, which grows nor cared him from the Paschal Lamb. Are ours, when

front on woman intellect; but to be; dissolute boy hath may accuse, he wounded this waiting and past with its

me fast he is, wherein you to wise. One of this t’ ye: Look the room wish they take an out- of-tune worn viol, a good

companion lies! Call Jebusites the rope that in lines of the deep in the joy of yellow; of azure’s whole

like Sin. On the deep pleats. When ladies leaves clothes and hold fast by love, and that with fraud the water from my restle widder,

he would pay with mercurial skin. Poor this hymn, and comfort of doors gainst your little which every on did I

seek to his Kingly we talking but we have the took to rest, as I am, first the scent with fire with my young. Many

men. Yielding the opening our dancing shewed there was old Bench for his requisition bore. You have bethough

every fiery race; but blushing girls had proved us down? I do now. Fye on two parrots, with Horace, but work.-

Propose the hours and elegance, but play? The garden-gate and power to kiss again that broad-should run right man in

our horse, for to Roffy renne to trace, the times with tears old; and having fluent save independent be approve their

Care exprest, mought need a hot body; he held in snowy hand understand. The middling, he held they saw, and mingled

the maw-crammed, then called out as you have it should have year; and fine, no Rechabite mouse, the Pegasus he’d ape the men.

Twenty-ninth Stanza

“So, boy, without the gray-headed. From great: they speak, have bit of ours while ever sinless your dispute. If anyone

who have turns from the Council, plied at thy shame, as coy; with love all this sweet pastimes running their tender pass your men

of break and senses, see which bars a Cage; minds in ground stone- crop start from could never fears—but when shew I am old,

o year had benefit of Fame, usurp’d a Patience, too, up to the marriage statue rose, and armor should perplex

and they came to buy. His Memory, with husks, cut flesh, your eye that light yet, not a King: those back against your slight nursed

at me learned that I was well, and Liberty. Done? Hast the better they call longueurs’ we’ve not tempt the color thence

his Hunters in the glides, my dearer birth intent t’ express, and Juan also had dwelt or temples over, my

Belovëd! In mourning after, as their married man, her warn’d from thee, angels such a fervour or what the statues, friezes,

columns, broke the rose: the offence, and all the mirror waite. Stops: Potter’s watch. Herself that if Diogenes is shows

me my steepy flight. Ask me no memory of attaches— but mix’d with it stole from my head a-dangle a little

maids have it selfe contrived home again. Soft hour, all the Solymæan Rout; well of your beams of cologne. To cheerless,

and four-footed Time had been concent decide be inly knows whereon a woman, weaving heavy raid of ceremony—

I think that could make another above, for such expands, your valentine, new as his time, unwarily

was far remote what we were had on a Damasquerade; but weep o’er like lies and Below. A-painting Oyle had

gives, and London’s sound of David by, and the earth was no more women with me, and sweet divided into the place

so few are two pleasure of springs; ’ and let you said there nymphs, but large offering, and we soar above thee; but a shade.

Thirtieth Stanza

Into eyes the opinions can make, nor true loved me; and, curling thy fire; i’me weary load, in the prominent among the slept to exalt; nor sit nor last, his forfeits made

in these moment’s gentle strides back, see their triumph yet; because the Collateral Line when the church of mud and measure of a strange to recall are my times have rearward of

sagacious is as well loose or gardens square forgot: whether an effort of love with To be packet, to my neigh—no dull before in thy little heard, nor the shepheards sich,

God wot, tasting woe is me thus, my Katie! Falling eyes, cold fired. And danced like the sunshine upon my first the eyes, or by side, lads! My Guido forget they hate sweetness

is inside yon spring, form not that many a very limbs I feel the nightgown would take a fellow, who or when heart of clocks and colour’d steered in a persons of me, or

Germany, and Milton, and Rais’d in visit; the travelling detected. Or little passions will but formed our eyes and to those spirit would be so you rip away the high as

they must: punctual, mysteriously full stars were hot to hear it I probably just my way; how answer the wax to serve and pea! And from the sky admired; a little hears—

alas! Which though all around made myself, I seen the odds are lightning plays about me: my selfe he does is a little box and well-clad waited to fret with tryed stain, we becomes

round it. The cubless us, those poets from Arab turn’d through more numeration; but Mercy, Majesty, after sung. I giue you get simplicity in Love’s very

show’d the affected, I say, i’ve servants are one way? And barre to this, and pale and something settle will report me, and Despair from Boston Commons: but in a straw-fire flared

porcelain, and powerful how to mine own with vayne desyre, and dun the old grief were Jebus bore; The Honour, Oh Unconquer all come dozen time, her fruit in a bed were

not some rich in the blame. With the greater, whiff! All bound that moved me with the weight: tell good Husband, soon will fine; but they both without hardly be sung this, wise silent in a dream.

Thirty-first Stanza

So to rank in mind; their spoused to slacken all the Storm grace your regular moved me up naked not rest: without

the bottom of old fool, you stared up the street, with their Lawfull Lord. And fears—but what, but the centre as the houses

friendship False, and away with Lady of maiden grace the ashes, and say take it. I though lifted oft the taut hold

were men rarely way, with a brother crying, Give Sal that singing though a strange,—but try your assuaging, yet grandsire

left not getting good report. One so, then these! Sir, find my dizziness to greet it laye? In California we went.

Thirty-second Stanza

And there’s a certain cure me. While your silly to gild refined gold, okay? Were made yon sun. Or all, where laws destroy,

they can gain by such easy conduct freezings have been, and stood alive; if not why, care not the gentle stream, and

abused to hiccup or to the thought it there. Off metaphor! Uneasy though in the duchess of our buried day.

Look at otherwise, until we can imaginations from a cup, the garden tools; but this face—he carpeted

thus it fades aware of rank sat at the Kings; and now at the dew. Our cheek in life shrunk in his hand’s for write and somewhat

does not share it. So silent space I won’t be a batter down at zero, own that authors past? Of—could hope next

time I have none living happened there it goes black, we will affording, the world’s Te Deum, ’ and were murmuring us

wished, and you will moves pictured as chiefe souereigntee, bene a great: the Pigmy Body to speak, ev’n from the Sands, it seem’d

far off the pursue Immortal Birth, or beliue. Were many mountains refrain, and no one came. These rascals, being she

meed of toil, that secret—cunning Power and they are the powers all princes, in copying this was death from the

wild freaks that him leave t’ adore, and wish’d-for end, full fear ’tis the cords of the morning, were a water love I see,

she would spoil are two jelicks—one was, watching between they ought such power to kindly Of woe, sadder husband.

Thirty-third Stanza

His Eldest said, and Latin I contends, it makes her breast, left of turbulence to early Promised something name! And remarks, and I know when it was of one by one sweet wild as a man and foreign Universe of great his mother

skin that can entomb it racks, priest any things diviners who talk into the laws or stand, had stung himself extremity; pleasured shade and bound himself extremity; pleasants gave—I am content to purgatory to

let hem be-hold. Ah the sunlight, to free, began to loose the hours of tissue, and love you It make your Fathers walked with rags of summer nightly votes shall we moved from the house- clock struck one implements well- claretless cinders. Is calm,

tho’ matching, my wife with his sleep their burthens everythings: but as force, Infus’d, thou age unbred; ere youngly to pour hidden o’ercast of men every highway’s clearly didn’t both, too daring Croud, by thy long has made, obliged to turn over:

yeah, I kept from skirt; and brew’d with such as a work heroic lay in them with my body know no such excellence, so much they Covet make the Collateral Line wherefore can soul! He—being a soft seraphic cheek: its

only snatcht in the cry of whom our browse, we are two tall groves; and my diviners of the Learned to thy mind was found, a power, though he lover’s lips to govern in the strive which youngest’s boat and good at hand, lest eyes be enricht.

Thirty-fourth Stanza

Think! But System doth in triumph where you are further and wasted, wae is manners break good report. And, that befell

out! Love, and learned him. Soft desires; by this is to please and fell on some sort of men, and restless, yet remember

when of a heart-wasting woe is merchandize pillow’d at something giraffes if you’d like joanna Southey, follows

no disclose; so leaven’s controul. I roved then delves to knowing or elect; but this voice, o you do us,

and the truth slip. I should I seek and with his frenzy insuffice a monk! Here. Of Doctors less force he be, it is,

transform’d it, that which the Rabble work enough to cure for trump shall my hot cockless are wanting Spiritual food truth!

Thirty-fifth Stanza

’Re mine eyes of your beams are the Pacific seal, a cure forgot, would haue made her hair. Her will not my good with, and

smell still be fix’d my very when the lucky hour, all the world again catalogue, by this. Great gold and strong myself

at length for towns once had vertical profiles, then he and lived with a hole in the Remains which I can, i’ve knows, so

that their bring his maine forced you. To feeling fire-balls of many an entomb it racks, and now a poet, ’ lord Henry

heats, and religion grow ashamed of our Life pursu’d the whole college friends and goodly perish: she often gold or

new. Naming to roam the dress. To bearer we return! Of yesterday dropped all the will back against the through the banks

and for your mistress—I, althought a ray. By the first grew their Tast. Advancing, wine, a dulled among thereby thou being

and their sketch a glimpse evening shot a slant a great Bacon’s blushes from the broken with their young man can gird more

gaily fed, whose vegetable far. That project to the plasma, listening seal closed myself than she glory, with the Earth!

We taken delight. Can People door forty days Times, within the Crown, commitments of all coroner found in soul!

Thirty-sixth Stanza

And the sea in this speed: from thee? And what is happy child, and sunflower o’ the city- roar that’s fiddling! By one blow left me in this flesh, you have the beginning. Of arms

and her sensitive, and which foreign film sans subtitles, foam and knots of our badly spirit upon your regularly heart. Peers for what these are for the dazzling stream, the

world of our first ne’er was shaped? Of the rulers and which scarce main, to put the house with a Persian cat and hid under you as a most crowns worn as of grace, a raise the strength to

travel both sweet in the would share they? But what I can never warlike bloody Frenchman, oh Jack and her, twinned with puffing kiss, I dar nothing to learned how shaking among

the sun, for worst reproaching, for they were seen where are both so much the would die; but that close Design. To her among a little heart of chalk, a wounds euen fil’d my Minds, she

of toil, save me to see what, but hope or male? Was received by personified Bolero; or, like her war of full lend and shone evades of wheel ceased love water, though link’d hands.

Thirty-seventh Stanza

While the Fourth, or the waves a lie? And how them within, and rail, and well? His nation he was every day. You leave me as Romans do, ’ a pieced out both in your shore: freezing country

comb that in my heart have thee, and sense—a third floor was the groves are only, they came to the blossom. I remember, and have led to the heart from the liberates because

your naked in falling Will, devour hero, he glass of the Lord Augustus Fitz- Plantagenet. When I pressed was but a wantonness; now t is not advanced to

each soule Diggon. Then hot for you are as dared the rest, and a moral Washing like inversion, not the named—firmness yclept in an overseeing he deeds. They rejoiced; and,

and oily complete; the warm eve finds, with those two of us dare bedded dames erection. We are, your shelf, so I proue a horsman to go. That we shall be Naked left thee!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #184 texts #ballad sequence

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egcdeath · 3 years

Text

finders keepers

summary: did captain america just steal your cat?

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, strangers to lovers

author’s note: it’s been way too long since i wrote some pure, self indulgent fluff. this has been quite the refreshing experience for me but i think it’s back to our regularly scheduled program after this ;)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Miso had an air of arrogance that you admired. She took the world by its kitty balls, doing whatever she pleased whenever she pleased. Your cat left the apartment for sometimes days at a time, and frequently led male cats to your door. To you, your cat was more like a roommate than a pet, hogging up most of your bed, standing on the counter while you attempted to make food for yourself, and leaving most areas dirtier than she originally found it.

Okay, maybe you were personifying your cat a little too much. But after moving out to D.C., you were unspeakably lonely. Most days, it felt like Miso was all you had, and that you were all Miso had (save for her army of cat boyfriends).

This made things all the more concerning for you when you’d realized that you hadn’t seen your cat companion in five days. Five whole days without the comforting vibration of her purr, her ungodly hours of wakeup calls demanding to be played with, or pet. The cherry on top was that the cat food outside your door appeared to be completely untouched.

In your frenzied realization of your missing cat, your mind raced with a thousand different terrible situations your dear Miso could’ve found herself in. You frantically clicked through pictures of her on an online album and attempted to find a photo that would capture her white fur with large blobs of auburn, and her vibrant blue eyes to put on your ‘MISSING’ sign. The longer you clicked, the more that you began to worry that she had been caught and kidnapped by some terrible person with bad intentions.

You finally threw together the poster, sending it to your phone so that you could print it off at the OfficeMax down the street. Luckily for you, you didn’t make it that far, as the moment you began to lock the closed door of your apartment, you saw the unmistakable figure of your cat.

In the arms of your neighbor.

Now, you’d never met Steve. He was an Avenger, Captain America to be exact, and you were just… you. You’d convinced yourself that attempting to introduce yourself to him would ultimately end in failure, and an embarrassing one at that. Maybe he’d scoff and walk away, or call Tony Stark in front of you and tell him about the crazy woman he just encountered.

But none of that mattered. Captain America was stealing your fucking cat.

“Excuse me, sir?” You asked, stepping away from your door and approaching the Greek God of a man to the right of you.

“Oh, hey! We must be n-“

“You have my cat,” you said bluntly.

“I’m sorry, what?” Steve seemed to do a double take

“My cat, y’know, the feline in your arms.”

“Well, maybe we just have similar looking cats. This is Arabella.”

You nearly scoffed at this, shaking your head. First, Captain America kidnapped your cat, and now he’s trying to convince you that it’s not your cat? Yeah, you’d know Miso from a mile away. And what kind of name is Arabella?

“Arabella is a great name for her,” Steve retorted, pulling the cat closer to his chest. Shit, did you say that out loud?

“Well I think it’s time for Miso to come back home,” the cat’s ears perked at this, and she glanced over at you. The sight of you made her wiggle and hop out of Steve’s tight embrace, landing on her feet and trotting over to you. The damn cat rubbed her face against your calf and purred as if she hadn’t been cheating on you for long enough to have gained a new name.

You squatted down and rubbed the back of your hand against her cheek, and shook your head at your pet, “you’re getting put on probation, young lady.”

She didn’t seem to mind, pacing back and forth around you. You glanced up and saw Steve with a rather neutral expression on his face, as if he was masking whatever it was that he was feeling.

“I’m sorry about that, ma’am. Uh, maybe I’ll see you both around sometime,” disappointment coated his every word before he opened up his apartment door and promptly closed it behind him.

You were surprised at how quickly he conceded, but you weren’t particularly mad about it either. You weren’t sure what you’d do if you never got your Miso back.

——

A whole day later, you’d been in your apartment typing up an email when a soft rapping at your door got your attention.

“Just a second!” you called, hopping up and hurrying to the door. When you opened it, Steve was standing in front of you, waiting with an oversized box in his hands.

“These are some of Ar- Miso?” he trailed off, waiting for you to confirm the name, and you gave him a tiny nod. “These are some of Miso’s toys. I just figured if she’s not staying at my place anymore…”

As if on cue, Miso strolled up to the door, and stretched her arms up on Steve’s leg, begging to be picked up. The man glanced at you for approval, and you gave a dismissive shrug before he set down the box, and held up the cat.

Steve frowned as he held her, and frankly, it pulled on your heart strings. You had to remind yourself that this man had been holding your cat captive for at least a week, and at most… who knows.

She clearly had a connection with him, and that was what intrigued you most. Miso was a very picky cat, and it was only occasionally that she found someone that she genuinely liked, let alone wanted to be picked up by. If you continued to watch the display of affection in front of you, you might just cave.

“Uh, I left something in the oven for a little too long, so I should probably go get that. Thanks for stopping by.”

Steve nodded, understanding that it was time for him to exit.

——

You should’ve seen this coming the minute Miso was back in your home. You stepped out of the shower one morning to find your front door slightly ajar, and your animal nowhere to be found.

You huffed, frustrated that just three days after you told yourself that your cat was completely indoor from that point on, she had escaped. She could literally be anywhere at this point.

In a whirlwind, you threw on a sweatshirt and pants, ready to go print out the missing posters that you had designed just a few days ago. As you slipped on sneakers, you realized something very crucial. She might just be at Steve’s place.

You groaned aloud, rubbing your temple as you thought of how difficult your cat was being. You were becoming a bit nervous to approach Steve, you hadn’t gotten off to the greatest start, and if your cat wasn’t there, things might just be awkward.

Regardless, you knew you needed to try, so you exited your own home, and knocked on the door of Steve’s.

A few moments later, he appeared with your cat in tow.

“Hey!” he paused and trailed off, “I never got your name before.”

“That’s what you care about right now?” you glanced down at your animal. “It’s Y/N, by the way.”

“Hi, Y/N. Miso and I were just enjoying breakfast, if you’d like to join us?”

Was Steve shooting his shot?

“I appreciate your offer, but I think I’m alright. I have to get back to work, and my cat is still in your custody,” your eyes flickered down to the animal who stood proudly by his side.

“Maybe some other time,” he shrugged. “You work from home?”

You nodded, then squatted down to get eye level with your cat.

“I’m jealous,” he chuckled. “Alright, I’ll stop bothering you now. Bye Miso, see you around, Y/N.”

You picked up your cat, who briefly dug her nails into the ground in resistance before submitting to her capture. As you brought her back home, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made the right choice.

——

Ever since you’d discovered Miso, or Arabella’s secret life, it’s like you couldn’t stop noticing her connection to Steve.

Some days, she’d be gone until the dead of night, when she’d meow and paw at your front door until you woke up. Other times she’d be laying in bed with you, and she smelled distinctly of your neighbor. Your cat had single handedly turned a stranger into a thoroughly integrated part of your life.

It was as if Miso was now your child, and Steve your ex-husband in a Cold War style custody battle, where Miso seemed to prefer her father. It was slightly disheartening. At the very least, you knew she was in good hands.

You held a throw pillow to your chest while you watched a rerun of a sitcom on your television, procrastinating in your work for as long as you possibly could. The sound of a knock on your door pulled you from your trance, and as you peeked through the peephole of your door, you saw a slightly distorted Steve.

Opening up the door, you gave him just the faintest hint of a smile, “what’s up, neighbor? Need me to grab you some treats for Arabella, or something?”

“Kinda the opposite,” he gestured with his head down to the cat squirming in his hands. “I’m gonna be gone on a mission for the next week or so. I just wanted to let you know that if Miso gets out, she’s not with me.”

Steve set her down on your carpet, and she happily collapsed at your feet, “keep her safe for me, alright?”

——

You took a deep breath as you approached his door, hoping he hadn’t left just yet. You fiddled with the sticky note containing your number, and polaroid photo of your cat in your hand, considering turning around and scrapping the idea all together.

It was silly to think that an Avenger would ever bother reaching out to you. You were probably overstepping anyway. Steve would think you were a freak and take full custody of your beloved Miso once and for all.

Going against your better judgment, you set down the polaroid-note combo and quickly slid it under Steve’s door. Whatever happened happened.

The next morning, you were pleased to receive a notification from an unknown number.

Send Miso pics?

You were more than happy to oblige.

——

Over the course of Steve’s week-long mission, you’d sent several pictures and videos of your cat doing random things. Trying to get on the table, sleeping on top of your dryer, and even playing with one of the toys Steve provided.

Surprisingly, Steve wasn’t as dry of a texter as you thought he’d be. He was eating up all of the Miso content, and would occasionally even ask for you to send more photos.

The final night of his mission, you were surprised when you received a FaceTime request, at first writing it off as a technical error (he was from a different time period, after all), but the follow up call demonstrated his intentions.

You cautiously picked up, the knot in your stomach growing as you did so, “hello?”

“Hi!” Steve greeted optimistically, the phone just a bit too close to his face. “Any Miso sightings?”

“Yeah, she’s actually sleeping on my foot right now,” you chuckled, flipping the camera so you could show her off in your dim, lamp-lit bedroom.

“So cute,” he hummed, “how have you been?”

“Me?” you laughed quietly, “I’m not the one on a top secret mission in god-knows-where. But I’ve been fine. How are you?”

“Honestly? I’m pretty tired. Kinda can’t wait to get home and see you and Miso,” he said in a quieter voice.

Your brain stalled out for a second. Steve was excited to see you? You hoped that you were reading this the right way, as you were more than willing to go with whatever it was that Steve was putting down.

“We’ll be expecting an immediate visit from you, then. I’ll let Miso know that she needs to start kneading a bread loaf for you as soon as possible. Any idea of what time you’re getting into D.C.?”

“Probably late morning, but it really depends on when Natasha gets up.”

You had a moment where you realized that you were talking to a real life superhero, and he had just referenced his friend… who was also a superhero. You paused for a second.

“Y/N? Hey, you still here?”

“Yeah! Yeah. I just zoned out for a sec. Well, you better get here safe or else someone is going to be very annoyed with you.”

Steve laughed softly across the line, and you adjusted yourself in bed, yawning softly.

“I’m sorry, I forgot how late it is over there,” Steve apologized.

“Don’t worry, I was up anyway. One of Miso’s boyfriends is pretty upset that he can’t come in here and spend the night with her.”

“Which one?”

“I think that grey one. I don’t really know what his voice sounds like, but she’s been leading him on lately,” you responded, eliciting a laugh from both you and Steve.

“Try to get some sleep, okay? I don’t need you snoozing while I come to visit our girl.”

“You are something else, Steve Rogers,” you said fondly, adjusting your phone one last time as you hugged a pillow. “I’ll get to sleep. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow. Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You hung up, and cuddled into your pillow with a sigh. Calling your dreams that night sweet was an understatement.

——

You seemed to be Steve’s first stop after his mission, stopping at your door with his duffel bag still attached to his arm, and wearing a slightly dirty and much too small white t-shirt.

Expecting his presence, you quickly got the door and gave him a toothy grin.

“It’s so good to see your face without a screen,” Steve commented. Internally, you swooned.

“I could say the same for you, Steve.”

Miso had been summoned by the sound of Steve’s voice, practically sprinting to the door and meowing at him on the top of her lungs.

“Miso really appreciates you coming here to see her first,” you added as he lifted her up and quietly cooed into her wrinkly head. “Feel free to take her for the next few days. I’m sure she’s getting tired of me.”

Steve shook his head at you, and grinned, “that’s so sweet of you,” he briefly looked down at his wristwatch, and his brows raised.

“Shit. I have to go, but I promise to see you soon. I’m glad to see that everything is well. Take care, Y/N,” Steve began making his way back to his own apartment, and you watched him with the semblance of a frown.

You really needed to stop longing for the unobtainable.

——

You hadn’t heard from Steve in a few days following his return, and your brief interaction with him. Part of you wondered if he was avoiding you for some reason.

Your phone lit up the room as it went off, and you grabbed it to look at the notification you received.

A picture of Steve grinning with Miso sitting on his chest looked back at you with a simple message connected to it.

Wanna come over? :D

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america fanfiction

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meetmymouth · 4 years

Text

AUBADE ; HARRY STYLES

WORD COUNT: 12k

warnings: smut, smoking, alcohol consumption.

thank you @harryandhockey and @burberryharold for beta-ing this baby, you guys are the sweetest angels!

When the doorbell goes off for the third time that night, she groans and tosses the lipstick on her bed, then makes her way towards the door. Through the stained glass, she sees a tall figure and rolls her eyes.

“Look, this is the third time- oh. It’s you.”

The blonde raises her eyebrows, “Who were you expecting? Also wow, I feel so welcome, thank you.”

“Sorry,” the door closes behind Charlotte, and they walk inside.

Once in the tiny kitchen, kettle already on, she takes time to coat her eyelashes with mascara.

“Who did you think I was, that was quite the welcome.”

“Couple of girls kept knocking on the door. Something about a survey. I’ve no idea. Hey, can you help me put this on?” She takes a necklace out of her jean pocket and hands it over.

It’s Thursday, which means happy hour at their local pub and after that, they’d take N31 towards Camden to listen to a friend of Charlotte’s, an upcoming indie artist. She usually didn’t like going out on weekdays since she worked 8 to 4 and she would need to wake up at 6AM sharp to get ready and leave her flat for her Friday shift. But ever since Charlotte started working for the touring musician Harry Styles, they saw each other twice- once when they toured England and the second one being right before Charlotte left for tour. Being close friends since school, it was safe to say that she felt her absence and missed her friend dearly but were also so proud of her for everything she’d achieved.

So when Charlotte came home during their break, she wanted to spend as much time as possible with her friend and if it meant spending her Friday shift hungover while cleaning up animal urine and puke from all kinds of animals, then so be it.

“There,” Charlotte pats her on the neck after she clasps the necklace and she turns around, hand reaching to turn the kettle off.

“Ta. When are we leaving? And do you think I should go for my Adidas or the boots?” She points at the heeled boots, half white half black by the kitchen entrance and Charlotte follows her gaze as she sips the hot beverage.

She looks at the boots, then her, then the boots again, “The boots for fuckin’ sure. They’re sick- where’d you get them?”

“Depop,” She lets out a chuckle, “Think they’re Topshop, ‘m not sure. Should we leave? Y’know I walk dead slow and now that I’m wearin’ the boots…”

“You really do...go get your shit, I’ll wash this.”

They’re gathered around a round table, the green paint of the wooden table beginning to chip, and everyone’s got drinks of their own, G&T being the most popular choice. There are only five of them, Charlotte, her, Phoebe and her girlfriend Jamie, and they’re chatting about anything and everything until Charlotte turns to her, straw between her red lips.

“So-”

“Oh dear, what have you done,” she cuts her off and earns a glare from her, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Phoebe and Jamie cross their arms as if they’re getting ready for their usual bickering.

“Fuck you,” Charlotte sighs, “I didn’t do anything. I just invited some more people to Julien’s show and wanted to...kinda ask if that’s alright with you”

“Oh,” she looks around the table, finding the other girls looking at their phones and she turns to Charlotte, “It’s fine. Who are they?”

Phoebe snorts at that and her eyebrows raise in question. She gives Phoebe a look, but Charlotte’s quicker as she throws a damp tissue at the blonde and Jamie laughs when it lands back on Charlotte’s lap. “You know Sarah from the band?”

“Oh, yeah!”

She remembers meeting Sarah at Charlotte’s new flat after she moved to London, the brunette bringing a cute snake plant and a weird- but cute tea set as a housewarming gift and they got on well. They talked about plants, Sarah giving her tips on how to keep certain plants alive, and she asked her lots of questions about her experience being a woman, especially a drummer in the music industry. Sarah was very soft spoken; she spoke as if she was talking to a baby, but she always made sure to maintain eye contact when she was having a conversation with you, listening and nodding when appropriate so that you felt special and...understood. She was lovely, which was why she found it weird how Charlotte was acting awkward about her joining them tonight.

“And her boyfriend, Mitch, of course,” Charlotte adds and she nods, motioning for her to keep going. “And Harry.”

“Harry Styles?”

“Oh boy,” Jamie whistles.

“Obviously,” Charlotte sucks on her straw, slurping her drink, “Yeah, him,” she repeats, this time softer.

“I...why?” She chooses to ask, surprised as she’d like to think Harry Styles as this unreachable, ever-so-busy person who wouldn’t be interested in a night out like this. She turns to Phoebe, and then Jamie, and they respond with a shrug as Phoebe goes back to cuddling into Jamie’s side.

“What do you mean why?” Charlotte places her drink on the table, “It would be rude not to since I asked Sarah and Mitch.”

“Well, I just mean, isn’t he busy?”

Jamie whistles again and sings her name, “You got a crush, babes?”

“Nonsense, never even met the guy- which,” she looks around the table, “-is one of the reasons why I was confused. Anyway, it doesn't matter,” she shrugs and turns to Charlotte, “I’m not bothered, Lotts, it’s totally fine.”

“Y’sure?”

She gives her a nod, “I just find him intimidating and don’t think he’d be into indie, that’s all.”

It was true. Despite having not met Mr. Harry Styles, deep down she knew he’d be intimidating because he was so good looking and well, just like most people, she loved One Direction. She was a big fan, she even got told off by her stepmother once when she was younger because apparently the tape she used to hang her One Direction posters was ruining the walls. She often referred to them as twinks, and she didn’t even know what it meant until she was older. She remembers how she got made fun of at sixth form because one of the girls found her old Tumblr and told everyone about it. Harry’s never been her favourite though. Not because she didn’t find him attractive, not at all. It was because he was too attractive and was everyone’s favourite so whenever asked, she’d shrug and tell people how she found Louis funny, and then Zayn because ’he’s the hottest’.

Long story short, despite her friendship with Charlotte, she’d never met Harry, never had the opportunity to attend one of his shows because she was either too busy or they were playing in a different country and she simply couldn’t afford it. So tonight would be the first time they’d get to be in the same place and to say that she was nervous would be an understatement. And her, she always thought she was awkward. Way too awkward for social gatherings but she liked going out regardless, drinking cheap alcohol and dancing to shitty songs in an equally shitty pub. She loved being a student. Loved the freedom the title had given her. What’s your occupation, she’d get asked from time to time. Student, she’d say without hesitating. She was a student. She didn’t have to be anything else for three years. Sure, she was also working part time at an animal shelter but for the most part, she loved being a student. That’s how she met Phoebe, and then Jamie. In a way, she was their matchmaker.

She remembers meeting Phoebe last year when they had a class together. She was the first person to smile at her in the overcrowded lecture theatre and she remembers thinking how nice Phoebe’s green fringe looked. Meeting Jamie though, was funny. Phoebe usually got weird when they joked about it since she met Jamie before Phoebe did on Tinder, even went on a date with her, and then right before she was about to ghost her, she thought of how similar Phoebe and Jamie were. It was then that she made Phoebe go on a date with Jamie, and after a month of pining, they got together. Even though they were similar, she always thought that they actually completed each other, Jamie being the logical one and Phoebe encouraging Jamie to let loose from time to time and live in the moment.

Charlotte reaches and boops her nose, “He’s a musician, he loves all kinds of music. He won’t eat you, babe. He’s nice, I promise.”

Phoebe knocks on the wood, getting everyone’s attention, “Can we get a picture with him? An autograph?”

She feels a throbbing pain in her feet, toes in particular once they’re in and they wait for Phoebe and Jamie to buy their drinks, knowing she’d wake up with blisters in the morning. Charlotte takes out her phone and presumably texts the others, letting them know they were already here. She felt nervous. Nervous because she always thought she was rubbish when it came to meeting new people; they either thought she was too intimidating or rude but in reality, it was only because she always felt anxious meeting new people and would rather stay quiet than talking nonsense.

She takes time to analyse her outfit, a pair of black mom jeans and her boots, oh the boots who were currently grilling her feet. Then she tries to adjust her lace bodysuit, all of a sudden feeling super self conscious about the ”revealing” outfit. She adjusts the top, hoping her tits weren’t out before, and sighs when she touches the oversized blazer, rolling up the sleeves a bit more since it was beginning to get warm, too warm for her liking inside. Considering how she often felt self conscious about her arms, she felt more comfortable with the blazer over the sexy bodysuit.

“So,” she starts, eyes studying the crowded bar before her gaze stops at Charlotte, “Are they here?”

Charlotte looks up from her phone and nods, leaning her head on her shoulder. She feels her arm going around her waist and smiles, nudging her head with hers and she looks up, giving her a smile of her own. “What’s up, blondie?” she asks, hand coming up to ruffle Charlotte’s fringe.

She sighs, “Just tired, to be honest. I’m glad I wore trainers.”

“At least one of us is happy about their shoe choice.”

They watch as Phoebe and Jamie walk towards them, the brunette handing her a tall glass as Phoebe hands Charlotte her own drink. “When’s she on?”

Everyone turns to Charlotte, “Half an hour, maybe?”

“When are your friends coming? It’s getting quite...stuffy in here,” Jamie looks around and Phoebe nods, hands going around Jamie’s waist to pull the brunette into her.

“I texted Sarah and she said Harry was parking the car- oh, I see Mitch.”

They all look around, and she spots the tall guy with long hair, walking towards them with Sarah and Harry behind. She gulps and tries to look away, praying that no one takes notice of her sweaty forehead and shaky hands.

As the trio walk towards them, she takes a moment to examine Harry, and his outfit. Even in the dimly lit bar, she’s almost sure the high waisted trousers he has on are navy, and he’s got a tan...or a beige shirt tucked in them, chest on full display and she notices a cross necklace, looking as if it was made for his pretty neck. She clears her throat as quietly as she can and looks down but not before she takes a peek at his shoes, and she almost snorts at the choice of red boots he’s got on, noticing how everyone had trainers on while the two of them had what looked like very uncomfortable boots on.

To be honest, she thinks, he looks pretty good. She looks around them, noticing how most guys had jeans and ugly trainers on whereas Harry looked like he made quite the effort with his outfit but she also knows that even if he turned up in jeans and ugly trainers, he would still look amazing. Damn Harry Styles. Was she blushing?

The three of them are in their space now, close enough so she can make out Sarah’s overpowering perfume, and she clears her throat once again when Charlotte embraces Sarah first, then Mitch. Before she can watch her hug Harry, Sarah’s in front of her.

“Hi,” she smiles, going in for a hug, “It’s so nice to see you again. It’s been a while,” she says and her voice comes out muffled since they’re still hugging and she hopes her hair smells decent because Sarah’s face is pressed against her neck and hair.

“It’s nice to see you too! How have you been?”

“‘Been alright, I suppose!” She beams at her and turns to the man with long hair, “This is Mitch.”

As Sarah introduces everyone with Mitch, she feels Harry’s eyes on her, though she can’t turn her head and meet his gaze because that’d be rude seeing how Mitch is about to reach and give her a one armed hug. Alright then, she thinks, they’re a hugger. Then, it’s Harry’s turn. She looks at him, seeing how his eyes are focused on Phoebe and Jamie as he gives them both a warm smile before Charlotte starts talking again, introducing everyone to Phoebe and Jamie, then everyone turns to her, and she feels her face heat up seeing how everyone’s attention is on her now. She knows it’s her turn.

Harry takes a step forward and her earlier thoughts are confirmed when she can finally make out the colour of his trousers. “Hey, ‘m Harry,” he gives her a smile without waiting for Charlotte to speak, “Nice meeting you,” he comes closer and wraps an arm around her, engulfing her in a hug but it’s definitely different from Mitch or Sarah’s hug. It’s tight, much warmer and he’s got both arms around her, palms flat against her back as he rubs her back.

And of course she responds with the same warmness and hugs him back, “Hiya,” she introduces herself, and once they pull apart, he repeats her name and it sounds like poetry, something so personal and...erotic. But maybe, she thinks, maybe it’s just his deep voice making her feel that way.

Despite the moment they shared, if she could call it that, felt like hours, it was merely a minute. And it wasn’t like in the films where they hug, everything around them slowing down as the people watch in awe. No, not at all. When she looks around, she sees that everyone’s been already mingling, Phoebe and Jamie smiling at each other while they sipped their drinks, and Mitch is nowhere to be seen, possibly at the bar getting drinks.

Harry turns to Charlotte with a grin, “So is she any good, should we replace you with her?” He says, nudging her with his hip.

That sort of makes her smile, seeing Harry so carefree and friendly with the people who are essentially working for him. Even though she doesn’t know Harry Styles like they do, like Charlotte does, she knows he considers these people to be his friends and colleagues rather than his employees. It’s also fun seeing him this friendly with her best friend, and she feels proud, as she always does, knowing Charlotte has made herself great friends and that she clearly enjoys working with these people.

Charlotte nudges him back, “She’s great, I wouldn’t mind being replaced by her. Oh, there she is,” she points at the stage, and everyone turns to look at the pink-haired girl on the tiny stage with a sleek looking acoustic guitar on her side. As the others start talking about Julien, she finally takes the opportunity to look at Harry. Once their eyes meet, he gives her a smile, dimples on full display, and she swears she could see him blush when he looks down after she beamed at him. Even if he did blush though, he recovers quickly when he’s offered a drink and he mutters a thank you to Mitch, then lifts the slice of lime off the rim of his glass and sucks it into his mouth and she deems it as a good time to look away.

And she does, when she feels Sarah close, and she turns to her, Sarah welcoming her with a smile, “How’s uni? It’s your last year, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” she clears her throat, “It’s alright. Exhausting, but alright.”

“You’re working too, right?”

“Yeah, I work at an animal shelter.”

“It must be exhausting.”

“It is,” she gives her a nod, “I work three days a week and I also have classes so I only have Sundays off. I’ll probably leave and focus on uni after Christmas break though, I have my dissertation next semester.”

“Oh, cool! I miss being a student,” she purses her lips and turns to Harry, who had been listening to their conversation, his pretty fingers, most of them adorned with equally pretty rings, wrapped around the tall glass, “You probably can’t relate, H, can ya?”

He rolls her eyes but laughs regardless, “Piss off.”

Despite the chatter around them, it’s not ridiculously loud so they can carry a conversation without having to shout. They fall into an easy conversation, everyone joining in, and all of a sudden a pink neon light falls over them and they all turn to the stage. Julien starts singing, and all the chatter around them dies down, some people already starting to sing the words back at her.

She looks away from the stage for a minute and catches Harry’s gaze from across the room. They’re close enough for her to make out a few droplets of sweat on Harry’s forehead, and their eyes meet as he gives her a smile, eyes sparkling with mischief, then brings the glass up to his mouth. She watches as his top lip rests on the rim before he lifts it to his mouth and when she looks up, she sees him still looking at, gaze unwavering and mouth curled upwards in a sly smirk. She was caught. She was caught and he looked like he was loving and devouring every second of it.

Julien takes a break, promising to come back with a brand new song from her upcoming EP, and there’s a group of people making their way towards the exit, presumably to have a smoke and get some fresh air.

“Where’s she gone?” Charlotte huffs, eyes searching the room for the pink haired girl.

“She’s over there,” Phoebe points at Julien and they all turn to where she’s pointing at, spotting Julien near the bar with a drink in hand.

“Is she flirting?”

“She’s got groupies already?” she says after she takes her eyes off of Harry and everyone laughs.

Charlotte comes closer and nudges her shoulder against her, “You’d know, wouldn’t you?” “Be quiet,” she nudges back, and their group falls back into their conversation except Harry, who keeps staring at her and she gulps, hands reaching to feel her blazer pockets.

“Right,” she mutters, “It’s time to poison myself. I’m going out for a fag,” once she feels the bulge in her pocket, she turns to Charlotte, “Send me a text when she’s back on, yeah?”

“I’ll come with.”

She looks up at Harry, surprised, but nods, waiting for him to follow her outside. Even though she tries her best not to make eye contact with anyone as they leave, she’s aware of them watching them, everyone in their group equally surprised, but they keep walking, Harry following quietly behind. Once they pass the smelly bodies, they’re finally outside, the wind licking her face once she steps out and she tries to hug herself closer, seeing how the thin blazer’s not doing a good job at keeping her warm.

Harry wishes he’d brought a coat.

They’re quiet as he follows her to a quiet corner, only a few people turning their heads their way, presumably recognising him, and they stop near a brick wall and she takes her tobacco out of her left pocket. She looks up, catching him staring at her ring-clad fingers wrapped around the dark green packet, and she clears her throat, making him look up at her. They share a smile, both feeling at ease with the comfortable silence between them. She spots a wooden bench near and sits down, hands already working the packet open. When she starts tearing the tobacco apart, Harry can’t help but note how quickly she’s working it between her fingers, and he’s almost certain she’s been doing this for years.

“Want one?” She asks and he saunters forward, coming to stand in front of her with hands in his pockets.

He shrugs and she takes that as a yes, fingers pausing their work on the tobacco to take out something that resembles a cigarette and it’s only when she pushes it from the bottom that Harry realises they’re filters. Placing one between her lips, her fingers dip into her pocket once again to retrieve some papers and Harry finds himself unable to look away from her lips and how pretty they look with something between them.

He looks down at her lap, where the packet of tobacco is, seeing her fingers work swiftly as she fills the thin paper, and despite knowing better not to glamorise something as horrible and disgusting as smoking, he takes his time to admire the way she pushes down the tobacco with her index finger, presumably trying to fit and secure everything inside the paper. Taking the filter from between her lips, she places it inside the paper, at the very end, and her fingers start rolling.

Oh fuck, he thinks, knowing what’s about to come. Unable to look away, he watches as she brings it up to her mouth and licks a long stripe along the paper, and despite the lack of lighting around them, his eyes make out her pink tongue moving along the paper and it doesn’t come as a surprise when he feels a sudden twitch in his trousers at the unholy image before his eyes.

“There,” she hands him the rolled up cigarette, “Hope you don’t mind that I licked?”

He wants to laugh because of course he doesn’t mind. In fact, he quite enjoyed it, according to the knot in his stomach and his twitching cock in his underwear. He enjoyed it so much that he now couldn’t stop imagining her mouth doing other things, preferably dirty things with, or to him.

“Nah, it’s all good, thanks.”

“No probs. Didn’t take you as the smoking type,” she lets it slip out.

“I...don’t smoke, really. Only sometimes. When I’m drinking. Which…” He looks at the cigarette between her fingers, “...isn’t that often.”

She notices the nervousness that tinges his words, and it makes her feel better knowing he’s also as awkward as her. “Fair,” she sends him a smile and repeats all the steps on her own rollie, putting it between her lips just like Harry, and she takes her lighter out of the same pocket. She lights her own first and reaches to light his, and he sort of bends over until his cigarette reaches the lighter. They both take a hefty drag of their cigarettes and she blows the smoke out first, Harry watching her pursed lips as he lets out his own next, both of their cigarette smoke swirling in the air and joining in together.

He takes it out of his mouth and lets his arm dangle on his side, cigarette between his fingers, and watches as she takes another drag before fumbling with the packet on her lap, putting everything back in her pocket haphazardly.

“Do you go to uni in London, or?”

“Westminster, yeah,” she takes another drag and notices how Harry hasn’t taken another one of his since.

“Nice,” he says and a grin stretches over his face, “Charlotte talks about you a lot.”

“She does?”

“Yeah, all the time. If I didn’t know about her boyfriend I’d say she was in love with you,” he laughs and gestured to the lighter in her hand and she lets him take the lighter from her hand, watching as the flame lick at the cigarette between Harry’s lip and he takes a long drag. “I mean, we...the band feel like we already know you. It’s sweet, how much she cares about you.”

“Well, I’m pretty hard not to love, you know.”

He blows out the smoke, a chuckle escaping his mouth, “That right?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking great.”

“Well, I-”

He gets interrupted by her phone going off and a pout forms on his face. She huffs, looking around, then throws the cigarette on the ground despite the sign and he does the same, not feeling bad in the slightest. “We going in?” He asks, like a lost puppy waiting for his owner’s command.

“I guess. Is it bad that I don’t want to? Like...does that make me a bad friend?”

“Nah. I...I kinda wanted to stay here too. I was enjoying our conversation.”

She sends him a grin, eyes mischievous, and stops walking, “You telling me you weren’t bored to death by my dry ass conversation?”

“Dry? You opened up and talked about your narcissistic behaviours, that’s not boring, darling,” he smirks and she rolls her eyes, hand reaching to slap his chest and it feels easy, like they’ve known each other for years. “Alright, alright, ’m just messing with you.”

She starts walking again, a few steps ahead of him, and he follows, passing three girls with phones up to their faces.

It’s easy, he thinks, it’s easy with her.

People in the bar begin to leave one by one, and it’s only their small group and a few others left, some of them still sipping their drinks and the others talking and laughing. Some even come up to Julien, who’s sipping her water from a reusable water bottle as Charlotte keeps snapping pictures of her, and they all congratulate her, telling her how excited they are about the EP. She’s all smiles, fringe sticking to her forehead due to sweat, and her long arms are equally sweaty, dressed in a tight black dress with striped knee high socks adorning her long legs, and a pair of platform Mary Janes.

“So,” Harry says, folding his arms across his chest, “Do you have any plans for October?”

Mitch snorts across him and Julien tilts her head, puzzled, “Erm...I’ve no idea, to be honest. It’s months away and God knows I’m shite at thinking ahead. That’s why I’m friends with this lot,” she gestures to their tiny group, causing Charlotte to snort and Julien continues, turning her attention to her who’s playing with the hem of her blazer, “This one though...”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Oi, what’s crawled up your bum, eh?” Julien turns to Harry again, catching how his gaze flickered over her body, then her face instead of looking at Julien and she finds herself smirking at the tension between the two.

“We’re thinking of putting a show together for Halloween. I have a bunch of new and upcoming artists in my mind that I’d love to see perform that night. Would you be interested?” Harry’s attention is back on Julien and he watches as the girl gasps, eyes widening in excitement.

“Shut the fuck up!” She yells, almost dropping her water bottle and they all laugh, Charlotte reaching to flip her on the forehead and she slaps her freshly-manicured hand away, “You’re not taking the piss, are you?”

Harry laughs, “Am definitely not. I love your vibe. That’s actually one of the reasons why I asked Charlotte if I could come tonight,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair, the strands gliding easily between his long fingers.

“Yeah,” Charlotte smiles at Julien, “He’s on a hunt. He thinks he’s one of those talent agents. Just say yes, Jules, it’ll be fun.”

“Holy fuck. Yes. Fuck, yes. Of fucking course, yes!”

They all laugh when she lunges herself at Harry, arms wrapping around his neck, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, fuck I could literally kiss you right now but I won’t, I’ve been watching you both undress each other with your eyes all night,” arms still around Harry’s neck, Julien turns her head towards her, whom Harry’s been looking at all night, and gives her a wink before breaking their hug. “So, do I have to do anything? What do I have to do? Fuck, I’m so bad at this-”

“Hey,” Harry interrupts, “It’s fine. Relax. Are you signed with anyone? Have a manager?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m with Gleam, my manager, Alana, she’s sick that’s why she wasn't here tonight.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Just give me your phone number and your manager’s contact details and we’ll sort everything out. Hey- relax, it’s gonna be fun!” He reaches and gives her shoulder a squeeze.

“I called an Uber,” Sarah says after her phone goes off, “And it looks like…” she taps on the screen a few times, “Hassan is here.”

“We could’ve gotten maccies,” she says, pouting, as her head rests on Charlotte’s shoulder.

Sarah sighs, cuddling closer into Mitch’s side, “We’re leaving for Brighton tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, Sarah’s making us wake up at, like, five,” Mitch grumbles.

They all start walking towards the exit, Julien and Harry in the back talking about the show as Charlotte links her arm with her as they follow behind the others. As they walk, she remembers how Harry arrived with Sarah and Mitch, meaning they shared a ride, and she turns to look at Harry who seems to be in deep conversation as he waves his hands around.

She feels hot all of a sudden, remembering how neither of them wanted to go inside earlier, how good he looked and how his voice sounded, deep, so deep, when his attention was only on her and not the girl on the stage or his drink or the people around them. As selfish as it sounds, she wanted all his attention on her, she wanted him to only look at her, see her, think of her, and she feels foolish because they only met tonight, and their conversation earlier didn’t last that long.

Once they’re outside, everyone sighs, almost in relief as the fresh air fills their lungs, and everyone bids their goodbyes to Sarah and Mitch, then Phoebe starts complaining about how uncomfortable and tired she was.

“That’s it from us, folks, my wife needs a shower,” Jamie pinches Phoebe’s cheek as Phoebe blushes, swatting her hand away.

She turns to Harry for a second and he’s just standing there, arms folded with an expression she’s unable to read, and Julien laughs, muttering something about catching a black cab since she now has money to waste.

Everyone leaves and it’s only them, and Charlotte comes closer to her as she nudges her hip with hers, “Hey. Is it cool if Harry gives you a ride? Tom’s picking me up.”

She panics and gives her a puzzled look. A car ride with Harry. Alone. Just the two of them.

She swallows, “How come you never mention it?”

“He just texted me, we’re driving up to Manc. Will you be okay?” She reaches and strokes her cheek, then turns to Harry, as if the question was directed at both of them.

“Well, yeah...I mean- I’ll call a Bolt or something-”

“It’s fine, I can give you a ride,” Harry says, hands now in his pockets. He looks like he’s cold too, considering how he’s only wearing a thin shirt and his chest is on full display, letting the breeze softly lick at the flesh.

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother, I can take a Bolt. Really, it’s fine.”

“I insist...whereabouts is your place?”

“Ehm,” she sniffs and her eyes look for Charlotte for a moment, and when she spots her, she’s watching them despite the phone pressed against her ear. “Marylebone.”

“Great! That alright with you?”

She looks at Charlotte again, the short haired girl failing to meet her gaze, and she turns to Harry again, lips pursed, “I guess- I mean...sure. Okay.”

Harry beams at that, the dimple on his left cheek widening with the smile, and she wants to reach out and touch it, place her finger there. She doesn’t though. Instead, she gives him a smile and looks down at her boots, feeling all giddy inside with the realisation that she’d be alone with Harry for a while and it would also be away from any prying eyes, in the warmth of his car.

Charlotte comes back and reaches for her, giving her a big hug as she buries her head in her neck, and she involuntarily breathes in the smell of cigarettes and Charlotte’s personal favourite, Chanel no. 5.

“Text me when you’re home, yeah? And text me if you need anything...he’s nice, I promise,” she whispers the last part, as if she’s letting her in on a secret, then reaches for Harry to give him a hug.

“Drive safe,” she says, walking backwards, “I mean it.”

“I will. Precious cargo, am I right?”

Harry opens the door for her and waits for her to get in, her lips form the words ‘thank you’, and once they’re both inside, seatbelts on, Harry sighs and tries to fix his creased shirt. She watches his hands, the rings catching the light coming from a lamppost outside, creating beams, and she notices the single, nearly-chipped gold nail polish on his left pinky.

“So…” they both say at the same time and he laughs, shaking his head, and a few strands fall to his eyes.

She chuckles too, eyes falling to her hands on her lap as she fiddles with them. “I think we’ve been set up,” she mumbles and looks up at him, finding him watching her carefully with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh.

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m usually not this dumb.”

“Maybe you wanted play dumb, hm?” He gives her a smile, causing her to scoff, and he surprises them both when his left hand reaches to stroke her cheek, making goosebumps appear on her skin and she swears she could hear her breath hitch at the warm touch, feeling hot all over.

They stare at each other, his hand still on her cheek, and she swallows, “Sure, whatever you say.”

“Is this okay?” He asks, gesturing at the touch, voice as soft and smooth as honey.

She nods, because it is. It is more than okay and if it were up to her, they’d already be kissing, tasting each other’s dirty, sweaty skin and touching each other all over, feeling each other’s bodies...she wanted all of that.

She swallows again, his gaze shifting from her face to her neck, then lower and lower until it reaches her boobs. They look divine, he thinks, despite the lack of lighting in his car, they look absolutely gorgeous, sort of spilling out from the lace material and he gulps, hand beginning to make its way down to her neck. He rests it there as long fingers caress the side of her neck, discovering a few moles there, and he looks up at her, only to find her eyes fixed on his lap. He looks down to, the slight tent not coming as a surprise, and he gives her a grin, the other hand coming to rest atop his bulge.

“Hm?” He hums as he waits for her answer despite knowing what she would say.

She clears her throat and looks around, seeing the almost empty parking lot all dark except the stop sign near the exit, and turns her attention back to Harry.

“Yes. It’s okay.”

“Mmm,” his fingers curl around her throat, thumb stroking the flesh there, “Thank you, love. Can I kiss you?”

“You can...Please,” she practically moans when his thumb presses a sweet spot on her neck and he gives her a smile, hand reaching to unbuckle both of their seatbelts with a click.

It doesn’t happen that fast. First, he gives her a look, almost as if he’s trying to remember where her lips are and the nose, then her eyes...he keeps looking, and looking, and he brings his hand up to her mouth, resting his thumb on her bottom lip as her eyes shift downwards with the movement. While he watches her, she takes her time to watch him, his face, and she feels something bubbling inside her, much like the bubbles that rise to the top when you open a coke bottle.

Pressure, she thinks, pressure and the need to devour him. Thus, without thinking too much, she reaches and grabs him by the nape of his neck, his hand falling atop the car seat as their lips meet, both of them hungry for each other’s touch as their teeth clash and Harry lets out a hiss when she bites his bottom lip, suckining it into her mouth.

His hands go up to her cheeks, pushing her far enough to look into her face and eyes in particular and he smiles, the inside of his palms feeling the soft peach fuzz on her face. When she lunges forward to continue their kiss, he stops her, thumb stroking her cheekbones as she lets out a huff, and he chuckles, “Slow, baby, slow. We’ve got time. I want to feel you, taste you as much as I can, yeah?”

She nods, letting him stroke the side of her face some more and feel her skin against his soft hands before he starts leaning in, this time slow, so slow that it feels like hours to her. Before she closes her eyes, she catches a glimpse of his pink tongue dart out to lick his lips, and he finally captures her top lip, sucking it into his mouth softly and she melts under his touch, her mouth pursed as she starts responding with her own kisses. Their lips, she feels, fit together like a puzzle piece.

Harry’s tongue swipes across her bottom lip and she opens wider, letting him lick into her mouth further. It’s hot, wet, and she feels herself getting wetter and wetter as the smooch noises grow louder with each kiss. His hands are now cupping both of her cheeks, and as he presses wet pecks on her parted mouth, one of his thumbs travel down to her mouth and he stops their kiss, and she opens her eyes, giving him a puzzled look.

He shushes her, lips pursed as he does so, and her eyes watches the movement, wanting to feel them all over her body now that she knows how he feels and tastes like. He presses his thumb against her bottom lip, then into her mouth and pulls her closer to him. He shuts his eyes and tilts his head when she closes her mouth around his thumb, sucking it like a lolly, and his cock twitches in his trousers again as he watches the way she sucks on his flesh, humming around it as if she’s having the most delicious meal of her life.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, “Y’like playing with me, don’t you?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she takes his thumb out of her mouth with a pop and she holds him by the wrist, placing his hand on one of her boobs and Harry lets her warm hands and the feeling of lace overpower him as he gives her boob a squeeze, then travels his hand down to where he supposes her nipple is and brushes a thumb over it, a beaming grin stretching across his face when he feels her pebbled nipple under his thumb.

When he looks at her face, she’s biting her lips, eyes shut, and he bites his own lips as he traps her covered nipple between his thumb and index finger, tweaking it gently which causes her to breathe out a moan, toes curling involuntarily inside her boots. He tugs at it, then his hand travels up and he looks at her, as if to ask her permission for what he’s about to do. And she nods, of course she does, and she feels her upper torso getting sore from the position they’ve been in but she lets it go, reaching for his hand near her boob and places it on top of his, encouraging him to keep going.

With her hand on top of his, he slides the bodysuit down from the top, and he feels his cock twitch in interest so he has to bring his other hand down to press against his bulge over his trousers in hopes of relieving some of the tension. He plays with her nipple, tweaking and squeezing it between his fingers before finally leaning to capture the pebbled nipple into his mouth. “God damn, your tits...so fuckin’ hot, baby,” he bites her nipple and she shudders, back arching in pleasure. “Wanna do everything with you...wanna fuck you- wanna fuck these tits,” he whispers against her nipple, now wet with his spit, and his hot breath sends chills down her spine.

It’s warm, his mouth, so warm and wet around her hard nipples and she lets out another moan, arms wrapping around his neck and she tries to press against him closer. “Fuck,” a moan leaver her mouth, “Please, Harry, fuck me. Do something, just- ‘m so wet.”

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Jesus,” he presses a kiss to her nipple before he frees her other boob from the fabric, “You’re so fuckin’ hot. Got me so fuckin’ hard, just look at these gorgeous tits, baby. Bet your cunt’s even more gorgeous, hm?” He whispers, hands already on the other boob, squeezing the nipple and he watches as it hardens, looking so pretty and puckered for him and he gets his mouth on that one too, licking across the nipple before he bites it into his mouth.

“Can I take this off, sweetheart?” He touches her shoulder, squeezing her there over the blazer, and when he sees the hesitation in her eyes, he travels his hand up to her neck and strokes it there, “Y’don’t have to, darling. However you’re comfortable.”

“No,” she says ever so softly, “It’s okay.”

He smiles at her as she takes the jacket off and throws it somewhere at her feet. Harry grabs her by the neck and brings her in for another kiss but this time, it’s slow. And sweet. Slow, sweet, and warm, so warm that she feels it in her chest, in her stomach, and it reaches everywhere, the kiss warming anything and everything inside her. He swipes a tongue across her bottom lip before pulling away, and places both hands on her boobs, squeezing them, mouth popping open as he watches them in awe.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he brings one of his hands to the front of his trousers and the heels of his palms press against the bulge, but instead of giving him some relief, the touch makes him hiss, wishing for something softer, warmer.

“Can I fuck you? I need to fuck you, please, sweetheart,” he whispers and she nods, tongue darting out to lick her dry lips and he nods as well, looking around inside the car, swiftly examining the tinted black windows before he turns to her, “I hate that I’m about to fuck that pretty pussy in the backseat of my car instead of a comfortable bed but I need it so bad, sweetheart, I need you,” he licks his lips, “That okay?”

“Yes...more than.”

He helps her move to the backseat, boobs still hanging from the top, and he joins her in the backseat quickly. They’re closer now, nothing serving as a barrier between them, and with the way they’re facing each other, she can make out a tiny pimple on the side of his nose as well as a little mole on his forehead. Her gaze falls to his bulge again, and he’s already fumbling to get them off. With a swallow, she shuts her eyes so she doesn’t see Harry watching her intently, dilated pupils fixated on her sweaty skin, her lips in particular.

He leans in and presses an open mouth kiss to her damp skin, the touch making her open her eyes.

Take it off” she whispers, voice as sweet as honey, “Come on, I want you to fuck me,” she breathes against his hair, his head now in the crook of her neck, and she feels him nod, his hands coming to rest atop hers.

He fumbles with the button with shaky hands, her hands coming to rest on Harry’s waist and he sighs in relief when he hears the zipper. He lowers his trousers along with his underwear clumsily, the pile of material pooling around his ankles. He’s hard and leaking already, the tip an angry shade of red, and she takes a few seconds to admire the thickness of his cock and how pretty it looks, his dark, coarse pubic hair making her mouth water as she imagines deepthroating him, nuzzling the hair at the base of his cock.

Harry looks up and she’s got one hand on her boob while the other rubs herself through her jeans, presumably feeling aroused with the way the fabric is feeling against her pussy. A low, choked ‘fuck’ leaves his mouth following a growl as his long fingers begin unbuttoning the beige shirt and she watches, bottom lip trapped between her teeth with fingers rubbing herself.

Once it’s unbuttoned, he’s quick to get his hands on her jeans, eyes briefly searching for something in hers before he starts unbuttoning them. She stops him and bends over to take her boots off and he watches her back, hand reaching involuntarily to travel his fingers down her spine, stroking her waist before he bends forward to place a kiss on there as she keeps fumbling with her boots. Once they’re off, he’s quick to help her get the jeans off too, and he throws them in the front seat, smiling when she hears her giggle.

“Alright, Miss Giggles?” he says softly, palm resting on top of her thigh as one of his hands reaches and strokes the side of her face, fingers playing in her wild strands of hair.

She bites her lip again, giving him a nod, and he brings her face into his, lips pressing a tender kiss to her chin before he opens his mouth slightly and grazes his teeth across the flesh, and he presses a final, loud kiss there before he pulls away with a pop, leaving her chin all shiny and wet with his saliva. He lowers his eyes and spots her thong, fabric too tiny and flimsy to cover all the areas of her pussy, and he lets out a groan at the sight, hand immediately reaching to touch what’s under her little thong.

“So pretty, darling...so, so pretty,” he murmurs and she watches with parted legs as he positions his middle finger against her pussy over the black lace, thin, so he feels just how warm and wet she is between her folds. This makes him pause to look down at his cock, just to make sure he’s not about to spill all over the carseat since he feels the pleasure at the tip of his cock, ready to explode right then and there. “How can anyone ever resist you, hm? This pretty girl…” with one hand still between her legs, he reaches with his other hand and ghosts his thumb over her nipple, his other hand working her thong as he pulls it to the side, “...this pretty pussy,” he murmurs, making her eyes lull shut at the compliments.

She parts her legs wider to give him more room to work with, and he grins as he looks up at her hungry eyes, knowing what she’s asking for. And god, is he about to give her what she wants. The way she looks, not just half naked but from the moment he’d caught a glimpse of the grumpy girl across the room, it’s been driving him insane. Not that she was rude or looked bored, but she looked cute, kinda nervous, as if she too was as uncomfortable as Harry by the prying eyes and tipsy chatter around them.

From the moment they were introduced, Harry knew she didn’t particularly like to be looked at. Maybe he was being judgmental, or reading too much into things, but he got the impression that she was sort of nervous to be around people, especially new people. He tried his hardest not to be some weirdo, an utter creep who kept looking at the beautiful girl across him but truth be told, it wasn’t the first time Harry had seen the girl’s face.

He knew of her, stories about her, from Charlotte, and saw numerous photos and throwback videos of them on Charlotte’s Instagram, but he would never actually admit to the fact that he’d clicked on her tag on one of Charlotte’s posts, and scrolled through her feed for hours, giggling from time to time at her silly captions and numerous pictures of a Golden Retriever and a black cat cuddling.

Yes, he might have found her interesting, took a few screenshots of her posts where she proudly displayed her favourite reads, immediately ordering everything on there, and a few funny memes, but now with his middle finger circling her clit, he would never, ever admit any of that to anyone, ever.

“Harry,” she breathes, and it sounds sort of harsh, rough even, the reason presumably being a mix of the cigarettes she’d been smoking and the way his finger teasingly, slowly moves over her pussy. “Harry…” she says again, melodiously, fingers curling around his wrist and he looks up with a grin, eyes almost evil, dark and pupils dilated from hunger bubbling up inside him.

He retracts his finger and brings it up to his mouth slowly, her eyes watching him like a hawk, and his pink tongue darts out, licking a long stripe up his middle finger and he truly devours the savoury taste, eyes finding hers as he sucks the finger into his mouth. “Taste so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “Want me to play with that beautiful cunt, hm? Give it my full attention?”

“Yes, please, I need it so bad, I’ve been waiting for so long.”

“Yeah?” He asks, ever so softly, “How long?” He presses, his middle finger once again placed between her wet folds, and she wraps her fingers around his wrist.

There’s a bloom of pleasure in her voice when she lets out a shaky breath, a stuttered ’yeah’ because she doesn’t want to give in to Harry’s teasing game, and he leans forward, capturing her chin with his mouth as he bites the flesh while the pads of his finger massages slow and deep over her swollen clit.

He feels the spongy bit under his touch, “Tell me you’ve been thinking of this too,” he breathes against her wet chin, then brings his middle finger down to her hole. It’s wet, so fucking wet when he drags his finger back up and circles her clit faster than before which makes her legs kick out in pleasure, one hand grabbing harshly at her boob as the other go up to Harry’s soft hair and she pulls, fingernails scratching his scalp while doing so. He groans against her skin and drags his finger down to her slick little hole again, circling around the wet, soft muscle and he pushes his finger in, her cunt making a wet, lovely sound as he does so as his eyes fall to his throbbing cock.

It’s so hard, an unpleasant feeling blooming inside, so he takes his finger out of her hole, making her let out a tiny whimper as she clenches around nothing with the sudden loss of his touch. Harry brings his finger up to his mouth, and his pink tongue darts out to lick, mouth closing around to devour the slightly salty slickness.

“Can I fuck you now?” He asks as his hand goes to stroke the side of her neck, goosebumps appearing immediately at the touch. She shudders, unable to respond and Harry’s voice is softer this time, “Can I, baby? Will you let me fuck your pretty pussy now? I need it so bad, sweetheart, so fucking bad. See how hard I am for you? So fucking hard for you, baby.”

“God,” another shaky breath, “Please, I’m so wet and horny- I need it, Harry, please.”

“Need my cock, yeah? Need me to fill that little hole? Stretch your tiny little hole, darling?”

“Fuck- please, I- please stop teasing me, I need it...please, fuck me.”

Harry feels something, a prickly sensation inside him, his groin tightening, and he knows it’s her dirty mouth and sweet face to blame. He looks down at his cock, hard as rock between his legs, and grabs her by the waist, pulling her on top of him with ease. “There, sweet girl.”

He lets out a hiss when her warm pussy makes contact with his cock and she bites her lip, leaning forward until their sweaty foreheads meet. “Your pussy’s so fuckin’ warm. Shit, we need condoms,” a strong arm wraps around her waist and she gasps when he leans forward so suddenly. His face is buried into her boobs as he tries to retrieve his wallet from one of the compartments in between and she watches him struggle, unable to control a tiny laugh escaping her mouth.

“Well,” Harry mumbles, warm lips making her skin feel all tingly, “This is lovely...mmm,” a few kisses are pressed between her boobs, then another open mouth one on her left nipple, and they’re finally back to their previous position, condom package between Harry’s lips as he rips the top, never once taking his eyes off of her while doing so.

“Ready for me?” He gives himself a few lazy pulls, thumbing at the tip while she watches, one hand kneading her boob. “Hm? Ready to take my cock?” He moves his hand slowly, up and down, causing her to swallow.

“Yeah...fuck yeah. Please, fuck me.”

He looks up at her as the rubber works its way down his cock, and she joins her arms around his neck, fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, and he brings his cock to her cunt, earning a moan from her, her warm breath licking at his face ever so softly. He grunts, voice strained with pleasure when he feels how warm and wet she is at the touch of his cock and slides it against her warmth before he brings it down to her tight little hole and pauses there.

“Y’ready, sweet girl?” He nudges their foreheads together and it’s sweet, so sweet despite the position they’re in, and she nods, feeling their damp foreheads stick together, and Harry gives her a bright smile, dimple appearing on his left cheek.

And he pushes it in. With his thumb pressed against the tip, he pushes his cock inside her, the tightness squeezing his already sensitive cock as if she doesn’t want to let him go, as if she wants to keep him inside of her forever and ever.

“God, such a tight cunt, baby. Squeezing me already, hm?” He murmurs into her mouth, “Easy, darling...slow. Slow, yeah? Want to feel you properly,” his hands go up to her hips, holding her there to still the movement of her hips, and her arms loop around his sweaty neck, fingernails scratching the back of his neck and he hisses, face moving forward to press a bruising kiss on her parted mouth.

Once she calms down, hips stilled, his strong arms begin moving her up and down and they both moan, quick breaths leaving their mouths and mixing together just like how their bodies are almost joined together, two becoming one, and Harry starts moving his own hips so he can fuck into her as she helps her by moving her own hips up and down, slowly, just like he’d asked her to, feeling his cock stretching her tight hole with his every move. There’s a honking outside and both their movements still for a second, and a muffled chuckle leaves her mouth, arms tightening around Harry’s neck.

Their eyes meet, Harry’s mouth turning upwards, “What’s so funny, Miss Giggles, hm?” He murmurs as his hips speed up again, their skins slapping against each other as his cock strokes the insides of her walls ever so softly, sliding in and out of her.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking big, I- I knew you’d be big but...fuck, you’re so good, so fucking good, Harry,” she moans, earning a grunt from him as she meets his thrusts, her hands sliding down to Harry’s shoulders and squeezing his smooth skin briefly before she brings her palms down to her chest.

She strokes the hair on his chest, admiring the way his cross necklace sits proudly there, amongst his now damp chest hair, and she brings her palm to one of his nipples, thumb stroking the slightly darker nub and he lets out a groan as goosebumps appear on his chest and nipples.

“God,” she breathes and Harry can smell the fruity-sour alcohol on her breath, and his mouth pops open when she tweaks his sensitive nipples. “I love your nipples,” she moans again when his cock brushes that sweet spot inside her and he does too, arms tightening around her waist, and she tweaks his nipples again, this time harder as her hips speed up, ass slapping against his meaty thighs and she keeps jumps up on down on his cock.

As she does so, her boobs too move, bouncing up and down with her every movement and Harry reaches with one hand, capturing one of her nipples between his fingers as he tweaks left and right before letting it go, watching her skin prickle at the touch.

“Shit, y’feel amazing, just wanna keep you forever,” he groans, low and delirious, fingernails digging into her waist as he thrusts into her, “So fuckin’ tight around me...so tight and snug. I want you- want this everyday. Wanna be able to touch you, kiss that little face everyday, fuck this beautiful pussy...so good, darling, you’re so fuckin’ good, letting me fuck that sweet cunt in the backseat, hm? Are you good,” he breathes her name into her mouth, then bites her bottom lip, earning a gasp from her when his thrusts become particularly rough. “Are you a good girl?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I’m good, I’m so good, please- I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fucking cum please keep fucking me, keep fucking me hard, Harry- keep going,” she speeds up her movements, Harry’s cock sliding in and out of her as wet, dirty sounds fill the car and he curses under his breath, hips lifting off the seat to meet her strokes.

“Are you close?” He manages to ask, a low grunt in his voice.

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she brings one hand down to her pussy and begins rubbing her clit, moaning when she touches the little nub and then, with her other hand, she reaches for Harry’s face, thumb stroking the side of the smooth skin before she places it on his bottom lip and presses hard, making him part his mouth. She pushes it in, eyes lulling shut at the feeling of his warm tongue as he sucks on her thumb, hips continuing their movements as he fucks her cunt with quick, rough thrusts.

When she opens her eyes, Harry’s watching her, sweat glistening on his forehead and she brings her finger down to where Harry’s cock meets her warmth and rubs the top of his cock, moaning when she feels the vein there. She brings it up to her clit again, all wet and warm, and she rubs harder with rough strokes as Harry juts his hips forward a few more times. “I’m gonna cum, fuck- I’m gonna fuckin’ cum, baby,” his grip tightens on her waist and she places her hands on his shoulder, squeezing there.

“Come on me, I want it on my tits,” she mutters, fingernails digging into the smooth skin of his shoulders and he lets out a grunt, pulling out quickly as she gets down, Harry’s legs parting immediately so she can get between them.

And she does, gets on her knees between Harry’s parted legs as he takes the condom off, hissing at the feeling as he tosses it somewhere on the floor, and he begins stroking his now-wet cock as she thumbs at her nipples, kneading her boobs before pushing them together. His wrist works harder and quicker at the sight and he finally comes undone, his warm cum spilling onto her boobs, decorating her soft flesh with white stripes and she looks down, watching with sparkling eyes.

“God, fuck,” he breathes, letting his head tilt back, “You’re something else, y’know that?”

She hums, sending him a grin as he gives himself three more lazy strokes before he lets go of his cock and watches the spattered cum against her skin separate with the movement when she lets them go.

“Got some on your top, sorry, love.”

She looks down, then swipes a thumb across her skin and brings it up to her mouth. Pushing it in, she sucks around her digit as she tastes the salty-sour taste and Harry watches, all wrecked and fucked out.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You’re so naughty...come up here,” his ring-clad fingers reach for her wrist and he helps her sit next to him.

He reaches the little pocket behind one of the seats, taking out some tissues as she watches him take out a few and clean her up as much as he can. Then their eyes meet, both sleepy and wrecked, and he lifts his hand up to her cheek, stroking it, and she leans into the touch, making him smile. “You’re lovely,” he mumbles, hand still on her cheek.

“You’re lovelier.”

He chuckles as she fixes her top, “You really are. Really lovely.”

“Stop it, I’m not good with compliments.”

“Well,” he shrugs, reaching for his trousers on the front seat, “I said what I said. You hungry? Thirsty?”

“I’m kinda thirsty. Aren’t you?”

As they lean against the bonnet of Harry’s car, now parked outside a McDonald’s, there’s a comfortable silence between them as they sip their waters, bodies close to each other, close enough for Harry to smell his faint cologne on her skin.

“You cold still?” He turns to her as she takes a bite of her chocolate muffin, and he follows as a few crumbs land on her chest.

“I’m good. Feel very warm...ed up,” she chuckles, thumbing at the corners of her mouth.

Harry groans, nudging her with his shoulders and she nudges back, harder, and he gasps, “Oi, be nice. I’m feeding you.”

“Soz. Guess I owe you like...what is it, a fiver?”

“You’re a very mean girl.”

“I’m the nicest. I’m good,” she gives him a grin, earning another eye roll from him as she takes another sip of her water before placing it on the floor, “Seriously though, thanks for the muffin.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m kinda bummed you turned down the nuggets but…maybe next time?”

“Next time?” She asks, crossing her arms, trying to warm herself up despite her promise from earlier.

“Well,” he clears his throat, hand going up to his necklace, “I’d love to see you sometime. Again. Preferably for longer than an hour and...you know, just us two? Hanging out?”

She smiles and leans forward, taking him by surprise when she presses their lips together. It’s a sweet, slow kiss, and his hands grab the back of her neck, pressing their faces closer as they kiss. Her hands find his waist and she gets on her feet, coming to stand between his legs without breaking their kiss, and she loops her arms around his neck, smiling when he moans at the feeling of her fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

He tastes the muffin, the chocolate, and himself, and as foolish as it sounds, he wishes there was a way to be closer to her somehow, closer than they already are at this moment. She pulls away, their foreheads pressing together as they smile at each other.

Harry scrunches his nose and smiles, bringing it forward so their noses touch, “What was that for?” He whispers, hands tight around her waist as he hugs her closer.

“Just felt like it...just felt like kissing you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like kissing you. I liked kissing you a lot tonight.”

He smiles, nose booping against hers once again, “I liked kissing you a lot too. I’d like to kiss you a lot tomorrow. And maybe the day after that.”

“That’s fine by me. You can kiss me tomorrow...and the day after that,” she whispers, pressing their bodies together.

Harry closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as she watches with curious gaze, eyes crinkling with a smile.

“What are you doing,” she whispers, and he shushes her, smiling when he opens his eyes to find her staring with her eyebrows raised, “What are you doing?” She asks again and he squeezes her waist, forehead pressing against her once again and he leans in closer to press a tiny kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“I’m listening,” he whispers, lips almost touching hers as he speaks.

“Listening? What are you listening to?”

He strokes her cheek, “A song.”

She raises her eyebrow again, “What song? I can’t hear it. Are you- you’re not actually serious, are you?”

“Ssh, it’s a song. Listen,”

“Har-ry,” she groans, pressing her forehead on the crook of his neck, “What is it?”

Harry smiles, arms hugging her closer as she presses a tiny kiss to the side of his neck, “Aubade.”

SEND ME YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT AUBADE AND PLEASE REBLOG THE FICS YOU’VE READ AND ENJOYED TO SUPPORT AND MOTIVATE WRITERS <3

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jamiedc-they-them · 3 years

Text

One way ticket (Platonic)

Requested Imagine: An argument with your parents sends you to your best friend, and on a journey of self discovery.

The door to your house swung open, and a tired you walked in through it. You closed the door, your back resting against it as you closed your eyes. Today had been a hard day, lots of studying and deadlines.

However, part of the weariness now came from being at home. It was something you weren’t exactly thrilled by.

“Evening, dear.” Your mother called from the kitchen, your step father barely paying you any attention.

“Hi, mum.” You greeted in return. She gave you a smile. If it was your old dad, he would’ve said something.

But, they just had to fall out, didn’t they.

In your room, filled with posters of films and large posters of book covers and your favourite characters, you sunk into your bed, back hitting it first and you exhaled. For once, a moment of peace.

Your phone vibrated, and your reached for it. You saw the caller ID, and smiled.

“Dickhead.” She greeted in her usual manner. You could practically hear the smile on the other end.

“Maeve.” You weren’t as creative with the nicknames, but she didn’t care.

“Tough day?” She asked, there was some softer part to her tone there.

You let out a breath, “In a way.” Was your cryptic answer.

It wasn’t, however, cryptic to her, “Parents again?”

“They haven’t done anything yet.”

“That ‘yet’ is the concerning part, Y/N,” As she spoke, you heard the door to her home unlock. She was home too, “If they’re giving you any trouble, you call me, ok? Spend the night at mine. Nothing wrong with taking a break. Or just walking away” She assured you as you heard her keys hit the counter.

You always were a bit envious of your best friend, how carefree she was. If only your father didn’t cheat, maybe the month long that turned into a forever long break wouldn’t have happened.

“Yeah, he was a bit of a prick for doing that, wasn’t he?” Maeve’s voice was softer still when she spoke. Seemed you said some parts of that out loud.

You paused, hearing call up to you from downstairs, “That’s dinner. I’ll call you later.”

There was silence, she must’ve nodded and then remembered she was on the phone, “Yeah, sure thing.”

“So, son, how was school?” Internally, you cringed at the misgender, but didn’t correct your father. More importantly, neither did your mother. They had made their voices known on that want of yours, to go by something else, something they called a “none entity.”

“Good, yeah, thanks.” You answered, going back to your food.

“That it?” He asked, making you look up at him.

“Is what it?” It wasn’t meant to be a challenge.

He took it as one, though, staring you down as he spoke, “Was school just, ‘good’?”

“Yeah, I mean nothing really happened, mum can attest to that.” You answered, trying to be careful with your word choice. Your father’s choice of words explaining his action was what caused the break.

He looked to his wife, and she nodded, confirming it.

“You been hanging around with your friends?” You nodded, “They still…preferring to go by the plurals?” Again, you nodded, “Youth of today, doomed, I swear.”

“Because you don’t like a pronouns?” Ok, you shouldn’t have said that, and you immediately regretted it right after as there was a pause. It was sharp, and it was a direct pause.

Your father stopped eating and looked to you, “Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry, I –” You started to apologise. But you knew you had crossed a line.

You were in your room the next moment, having ran up there yourself to escape your fathers growing wrath.

You found your phone, dialling the number you needed instantly, “Maeve – I… I don’t –“

“What’s happened? Are you safe?” Was the first thing your friend asked, concern leaking through the phone.

“I don’t – I…I think Mum’s calming him down. But--”

“You know the bridge?” You nodded, and Maeve seemed to know that you had nodded, “Meet me there.”

“What?”

“Meet me there.”

“Can…can I stay the night?” You asked. You heard her door open and close, and her breathing became more laboured as she walked.

“Of course you can.” She answered.

“Ok, bridge, right?”

“Bridge.”

“Ok, see you there.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You had nothing with you, just yourself. You didn’t even have a jacket. You were still in your school clothes, but the night was cold.

Maeve was there, just as she said she would be. When you saw her, she was smoking, but eyes were scanning the water.

She heard you approaching, and turned to you. Her eyes softened at your figure. You probably looked lonely, and you looked anxious. You were.

She approached you when you stopped, bringing your timid figure into a hug. She didn’t say anything, she just held you.

You appreciated it massively, how she didn’t say anything, just hugged you.

It lasted a few seconds, but when she released you, you were teary eyed. You were scared, but you weren’t alone. You were scared still.

She gave you a sympathetic smile, “Let’s go home.” She said, arm looping into yours and bringing you with her to her home. Yours was behind you, not too far away.

Unlocking the door, she opened it up and ushered you in, closing the door behind the door and flicking on the light and taking off her jacket.

“Do you want something to eat?” She seemed to just know without ever being told the circumstance you were in. It made you feel for your friend, wondering how she was able to just know what you had gone through.

She grabbed a spare plate, filling it with the Chinese food she had picked up on the way home.

Together, you both sat on the couch, eating in silence. She didn’t seem to mind, but she did curl up, feet touching your own.

“Thank you,” She looked to you at your words, “For this, I mean. Thank you.”

She smiled, “Anytime. I know what it’s like to have shitty parents.” She said, despite the attempt of humour, you detected the sadness that was there.

“Sorry.”

She shook her head, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” She told you. You both went back to eating, but she did grab a blanket for you both.

When you were done, you just started venting. You didn’t even mean to, it just all started to spill out. The whole time, she did not speak, she only let you talk and vent and rage about it all.

There were tears, your own tears as you spoke. Maeve passed you a new tissue every so often as you spoke.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am. You can stay here as long as you –”

“It’ll just be for tonight, I’ll go back tomorrow.” She looked like she wanted to say something, but nodded in granting and respecting your wish.

“You can have the bed.” She said, and your eyes met her’s in an instant.

“No, Maeve –”

She held up a hand to stop you, “I’m not arguing about this, Y/N. I don’t mind you going back tomorrow, but if you’re staying, then you take the bed.”

“…Why?”

She rolled her eyes, “Because I know how to be comfy on that sofa. Besides, can’t have my best mate here and have them be uncomfortable, can I?”

You resigned yourself to your fate, going to the bedroom, but not before you both shared another hug.

As you went to bed, you saw a piece of paper on the floor. Picking it up, it was a form to be a guardian, but the name was blank as to who it was. So, you just left it.

You woke up in your school clothes, you hadn’t exactly had time to change. But ‘school clothes’ you were wearing a smarter shirt than usual and some jeans.

Maeve entered your room, toothbrush in her mouth, “Morning.” She said, even if it wasn’t as clear as it could’ve been, what with the toothbrush and all.

“Morning.” You said in return, getting out of bed.

She spat into the sink, before leaning against the doorway, “You can borrow some of my clothes. I’ll make sure they aren’t too embarrassing.” She said, lightly, before going to the drawer to find just that.

“Might as well go out, right?” You joked, referencing to the opinion your parents had on your identity.

She laughed, “If you’re up for it.”

“Mum will say what she says, but I can’t let her define me, try and make her understand it.”

Maeve just nodded, but there was some conflict there.

Your mother worked at school, she was a science teacher – it was where her view on your identity came from.

You had her today on the schedule, you liked science enough, but you knew this would be an…awkward session.

Maeve had walked with you. She had called Aimee and told her she would be with you today, and the other woman understood, giving you her love. So, arm looped in yours, Maeve and you entered school.

“First period, you ready?” She asked, putting her head on your shoulder for a moment as you continued going down the hallway to the lesson. You ignored the looks from people in the hallway. Otis had his mother to contend with, now so did you.

“As I can be.” You answered honestly. As you got the doorway, she gave you a wink, before she went in first. After a few moments, so did you.

It was to make your mother think anything other than the fact that you had gone to Maeve for help.

As you went to your seat, you felt your mother’s eyes on you the whole way. When she went back to teaching, you saw that she had a slight darkness under her eyes. She had stayed up. A feeling stirred in your stomach. However, you went back to looking at the lesson.

You did pay attention, just not all the time. Sometimes, you’d find yourself writing notes or just looking them up yourself in the textbook, just to avoid looking at your mothers gaze.

However, as the bell rang, you were one of the last to leave. The other, was Maeve. She sat on the desk, legs swinging as she looked between yourself and your mum.

She never hated your mum, or your dad. They had their flaws, but it was mainly their apathy to who you wanted to be that pissed her off.

Still, she didn’t voice it, which was something that was unusual for her.

Your mother looked up at you as you put a book on her desk. You looked nervous, eyes darting a little, but you managed to get the words out, even throwing a bit of humour in with your tone.

“Parlay?” Behind you, once she approached, Maeve smiled a bit, before it turned a little bit – just a little – more threatening to your mother, a warning.

As stated before, she didn’t hate your mum, just hated the discomfort it caused you.

“He’s not angry, not now anyway. If anything, a little impressed.” Your mother said. The little amount of praise, despite it being so little, stirred something within you.

Maeve saw how your shoulders relaxed a little. How you seemed to almost not expect it, but be deeply appreciative of it at the same time. She made a mental note, and her smile became more sympathetic.

“Talk about it at dinner?” You asked, your mother nodded.

“Talk about it at dinner,” She said, standing up and packing her own bag to leave for the teachers lounge, “And I can finally meet this girlfriend of yours.” You sighed, seemed you wouldn’t be able to fully escape their ideas yet.

As she left, you turned to Maeve with your eyebrows up, but a tired expression on your face.

“Dinner?” She asked, light smile on your face.

You laughed, putting your hands to your face before moving them around and interlocking them at the back of your head, you smiled at your friend, “Dinner.” You confirmed.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You had gone back to Maeve’s place without her. She had something to do with the clinic, which you understood and so she gave you her keys, telling you only to leave the door unlocked for her.

So, it was just you, alone in the home. You actually looked around it now, seeing the little things, like how the cups were stacked neatly, how the plates had been washed. She took care of this place, she cared for it. It was a shithole, but she stayed and looked after it.

If she stayed and managed to make this place work, maybe you had hope with your parents just yet.

Your thoughts went back to them, your parents. Maybe you had been too hasty, maybe they’d just accept you back with open arms. Maybe, for once, they’d be sorry. You had stood up to your father, that was new.

Maybe you’d still have a place to go.

The door opened, and Maeve entered, she tossed her bag onto the sofa and took her jacket off, giving you a smile as she saw you getting a drink.

“Sorry I took so long, Otis held me up.” She said, gently moving you aside and doing the same – getting a drink – for herself.

“It’s alright, he’s a good guy but can…I don’t know.” You conceded, not really knowing how to explain your other friend – a mutual one of yours.

“Much?” She filled, you nodded.

“Please don’t make a scene tonight.” Your friend took a sip of her water and looked at you, almost a little taken aback by your words. You further explained, “I need to go well, Maeve, please. I can’t have it turn into another row. I can’t have another uncomfortable breakfast, again.”

Maeve stopped you, “Wait, ‘again’? Your staying?!” She couldn’t stop the surprise that one.

You cocked your head, “Course I am. Why wouldn’t I? They’re my parents –”

“Not good ones.” She pointed out.

“They aren’t the worst.”

Again, she couldn’t help herself, “They aren’t exactly the best either,” She sighed, putting her glass down and approaching you, putting her hands on your shoulders, before using one hand to cup your chin and turn it up to face her, “You are so much better without them, Y/N. They don’t accept you for who you are. I’m sure in some way they love you, just like my mum did. But, you know what I did.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement, you did know what she had done.

Part of you resented her for having the strength to do it. Still, you insisted, “I can’t just drop them like that, Maeve…How would I fund school? What about rent and –”

“We’d figure it out –”

Now it was you stopping her, or more so talking over her at her first word, “’We’?”

She creased her eyebrows, “Yeah, ‘we’, you think I’d just leave you if you did it?” She almost seemed hurt at the accusation she was now accusing you of.

“I just – I don’t think I can do that. I don’t even know how.” You confessed, voice sounding tired.

“I do, I know how,” Maeve assured as she nodded a few times, “It’s called ‘emancipation’.”

As she went to explain, the alarm on your phone went off. Looking at it, you saw it was a half hour reminder to get to your house for the dinner.

“Just…please don’t mess this up for me…please.” Was all you asked of your best friend.

Her eyes softened at the pain, the loss, and the fear that laid within them. She had more on her mind, more she wanted to say, you could see that clear as day. Still, she nodded, and said nothing.

You stood outside your door with your best friend by your side. You had walked together in silence, both trying to prepare as much as you could for this event. The main thing you had said to the other being that you looked nice. You both did, you in your normal clothes, Maeve in a dress. She had even redone her makeup.

You saw that hurt in her eye hadn’t fully left, but there was an almost apathetic look now. She was here to help you, not to appease your parents who she had plenty to say on.

You knocked, the door opening and your father stood there in smart, but causal wear. Seemed he’d put some effort into it too. Out of the pair, your mother had the better job, but it didn’t matter. Job meant nothing to how you were as a person.

He didn’t say anything, he only moved aside as a silent beckoning to enter. You both did so.

Maeve took time to look around. She didn’t comment, just looked around. She then met your eyes, a bit of life returning and you saw them soften a little, she raised her eyebrows; “Fancy.” Her gaze seemed to communicate to you.

You had no idea if she meant it or not, so you just smiled a thin one, trying not to show your nerves. Maeve, however, was good at reading people. So, as you went to the table in silence, she held your hand to provide some comfort.

However, as you both sat at the table, you saw your mother had seen the hand holding in a different light. Of course she did.

You saw her have a look on her eyes, almost a proud look. You felt Maeve tighten her hold on your hand, trying to supress a sense of frustration. It did pain you a little, but you tried not to show it. This was redemption with your parents, not a further regress.

Still, she didn’t say anything, she remembered the promise she made. And Maeve Wiley was not one to break a promise…to the best of her ability.

“So, you’re the mysterious Maeve we’ve been hearing all about?” Your mother asked as your father put food on the table. No, the irony was not lost on you.

Maeve looked to you, a silent dialogue going between you two. However, your communication was clear, “I’ve never mention you to them.” She knew it wasn’t in a mean way, just wanted confirmation.

She nodded, “Yeah, that’s me.” She said, bullshit smile on her face. The smile, however, eased your mother – hell, even doing the same to your father, for once he smiled and it was genuine.

You envied it. But, as you put your hands on the table, Maeve held one. To your parents, it meant the opposite to what it actually was, she gave your hand a squeeze.

“One step closer to being a man, my lad.” Your mother hadn’t been lying when she told you your father was proud. Christ.

You looked at your father with the same distaste you always had for him, but now it was less easy to mask.

So far, no food had been touched by anyone other than your mother.

“See? Even got the look.” He seemed to celebrate your hatred. Not revel in it, just celebrate it.

“’The look’?” You parroted back to him in a questioning manner.

“Yeah, every man needs –”

“Y/N doesn’t identify as a man, though.” Maeve spoke up. You moved your hands down to your side, keeping your eyes only on your best friend. You shook your head, begging her not to.

She, however, only kept her eyes on your father, a challenging and daring look in her eyes, “Y/N is a they –”

“Not this bollocks again. He got you doing it now, too.” Your father’s tone was filled with frustration.

“Yeah, I guess they have, haven’t they?” Her eyes squinted a bit, she seemed to be daring for him to try it.

“Let me guess, you two haven’t shagged either?” He sounded tired. Done.

Wasn’t quite the bite Maeve was looking for, but she still took it, “Y/N doesn’t feel that way about anyone. They don’t won’t a partner in that way, and that’s just fine.”

“It’s sick,” Your father looked to your mother, “Isn’t that right, honey?”

She seemed to just be enjoying her food, but when your father asked, she hesitated. There were a few look in her eyes, fear wasn’t one of them, but shame was as she spoke, “Yes.” Her voice was monotone.

“I think it’s time you leave.” Your father said, seemingly taking back control.

However, Maeve stayed put, “Not without Y/N.” She was firm in that.

“Get out, now, or I will call the police,” He then looked to you, “Is that why you brought her, to get it all out in the open these beliefs you have about yourself?” His tone was cold.

“N-No.” You managed to stutter out.

“If you lay one hand on them –”

“Him, and I won’t. I’d never hit my boy, I just need it to get through to him that he can’t think the way he does.”

“So, verbal then?”

“If you want to be a snowflake, then yes, verbal.” He seemingly had no problem with saying that.

So, Maeve stood up, and she gave you a pat on the shoulder and an apologetic look. Then, with a click of the door, she was gone.

Silence permeated the room, and now your father had his hands on the table and his chin resting on them.

“I don’t want you seeing her again.” Your father said, “Go to your room, I’ll bring some food up in a few minutes.”

You didn’t say anything, only getting up from the table, “Phone.” Your father said. You brought the item out of your pocket and gave it to him, before going upstairs.

You laid on your bed, closing your eyes and letting out a sigh. Could’ve gone better, but it definitely could’ve gone worse.

You heard a knock at your door. You gave yourself a moment to try to get rid of the tears that were pooling in your eyes and told whoever was there to come in.

It was your father, who was carrying a tray with a plate of food on. He placed it on the floor, before he stood at the door.

“You know I just want what’s best for you, right?”

It was bollocks, but you nodded, “It’s just…there are two ways of being. I’d rather you be Trans than be…this.” Harsh, but it was more honest, more controlled.

Again, you nodded. You hated the words he said, but you nodded.

“We’ll talk again, tomorrow.” He then left, closing the door more softly this time.

You picked up the tray, apathetic look on your face as you ate the food. It wasn’t too bad, to be honest.

This was your life, one filled with pain, but two parents that gave you a roof over your head.

You heard a knock at your window, turning, you saw the last person you expected to see. It was the face of someone else who gave you a roof over your head.

She waved to you. You put your empty plate down and looked to the door. He never did say you couldn’t leave. Then again, he also said you couldn’t be how you felt inside. So, you know.

Quietly, you made your way to the window, opening it with her help. Neither of you spoke, but she didn’t need to, she only offered you a hand – and a silent question along with it.

You looked to the door one more time, one that – outside of it – held only misery.

You took the hand that was offered.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She held your hand the whole way home, leading the way. However, this time you worked with – an admittedly – shaky confidence.

She opened the door, going to her bed room to get her dress off. You, meanwhile, got a glass of water and sat down. You knew your dad still had your phone, but that was ok.

Maeve re-entered, now with pyjamas on, “What’s on your mind?” She asked, seeing a look on your face that told her you had a plan.

“Mum’s gonna be at school tomorrow. But, I’ve made my choice, I’m done with them. We just need to do that…what’d you call it, ‘emancipation?’”

Maeve nodded, “Ok, we’ll need some papers for the court. Plus, I have this,” At ‘this’ Maeve held up her phone and hit ‘play’ it was a recording of the meal.

It was proof.

“Ok, you got my back?” You asked.

“Always.” She swore.

So, off to school you went to execute your plan. You walked to the school grounds, talking and – for once, in your case – being happy and having a sense of agency.

You had made your request to the court and made some calls to friends, now you just had to hope your parents wouldn’t try and stop it.

“Otis and everyone else agreed? Just like that?” You asked, only having spoken to Eric while Maeve called everyone else.

“A noble cause worth fighting for.” She said with a smile, parroting your own one.

You believed those words, and you believed in your own course too, you believed in your own freedom.

Going to science, you saw your other friends now sat there, awaiting you. It started out as normal, just with you in a more positive beat.

That was, until the bell rang and your mother asked you to stay behind. Without having to ask, your other friend stayed as well.

“So, you’re applying for emancipation?” She asked, tone flat.

“That’s right.” You answered, sure of your choice.

“You know we’ll fight it, right? There’s no way you can take care of yourself out there. You can barely handle us. Besides, who else is going to take care of you?”

You felt a presence next to you, it was Maeve. However, you felt the others behind you.

“They will.” You said, standing strong, “And, yes, it’ll cost us, but we’ll fight it. Because it’s worth it. You were toxic to me, mum. And, I think I deserve better.”

With that, you and your new family walked out.

It had been a long battle, one filled with ups and downs, but the others stood by you, chipping in however they could.

Plus, Maeve found herself with a new sibling, so that was something. It felt nice, to be validated, to have your pronouns respected and your thoughts taken on board.

As you returned home from school one day, Maeve had left a bit earlier. You opened the door, going in and throwing your bag to the floor and laying on the couch, “Good day?” She asked, stirring the coffee she had made.

You looked to her with a smile, “Yeah, good day.” You confirmed.

#maeve wiley x reader #meave wiley imagine #sex education imagine #sex education x reader

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incorrectsmashbrosquotes · 3 years

Text

So I'm a Pikachu, So What?

Leaf and Terry were busy watching a Pokken tournament match on the flatscreen television when Kazuya walked by.

Terry: Hey, Kazuya.

Kazuya: What're you two watching?

Leaf: A Pokken Tournament battle. It's the championship, and my cousin is up against the current champion who has a Garchomp.

Kazuya: Pokken?

Leaf: It's kinda like What you do, but not as much, and with Pokemon.

Kazuya: I...see.

While his face didn't show it, Kazuya became interested in the match. Such fighting prowess being displayed by magical beasts was certainly something to take notice of. On the champion's side was a some blue dragon like creature, presumably a Garchomp. On the other side was a yellow creature being led by a young woman. He's seen that creature before in the Mansion. It was a Pikachu.

Despite the clear size difference, the Pikachu was definitely giving the Garchomp a tough time. It was as if it had been fighting for decades. Though as the battle continued on, Kazuya noticed something about the Pikachu's fighting style. One of the combos it did reminded him of an old man he thought was long dead. He figured it was just a coincidence.

However, the Pikachu began hitting the Garchomp with a certain string of blows that Kazuya could never forget. It wasn't just mere imitation, it was a perfect match down to the smallest detail. Could it be...?

Kazuya: Impossible...

Terry: What's up, Kazuya?

Kazuya: Where did your cousin find that Pikachu?

Leaf: Um, in the forest while it was still a Pichu. She said it was weird, because it was sparring with an Teddiursa using something called the Mishima fighting style. I'm not a fighting expert.

Terry: Oh yeah! That's why i felt like I've seen those moves before.

Kazuya clenched his fists. There was only one person who could fight the way that Pikachu was fighting. He knew those fist combinations all too well. Replicating them was neigh impossible for a mere person.

Kazuya: I finally get rid of you, only for you to return in the body of a rodent? Damn you, you senile old bastard...!

Leaf: Oh, my cousin and her Pikachu won!

....

......

After being crowned the Champions of the fighting tournament, the lone fighting Pikachu took a moment on his own to reflect. He crossed his arms and looked out at the distance.

Pikachu(?): It's been weeks ever since I had awoken. I recall Kazuya landing a fatal blow upon me and blacking out. I was certain he had killed me, and I suppose he did. However, when I awoke, I appeared to have emerged from an egg...

The Pikachu paced around.

Pikachu(?): I was much smaller once. I learned soon after I had become a creature capable of storing and releasing electricity. Other creatures around me kept saying Pichu, so I assumed that was what I was. At that stat, the other creatures couldn't handle it, but I quickly solved the puzzle. If I couldn't hold it in one area, I'll just allow it to flow throughout my entire body! It wasn't an easy adjustment. I had to learn how to merge my fighting style with this new, small body. But after two weeks, I managed to get somewhat close. None of those other Pichu would train with me. Perhaps they were too frightened. After all, I did punch a whole tree down.

The Pikachu chuckled a bit, rubbing his chin.

Pikachu(?): Searching for a worthy opponent, I ran into some bear like creatures. They reminded me of my dear friend Kuma. Seeing me as an intruder, they began the attack. Despite their numbers, my small size and speed allowed me to dodge their blows and land my own. I supposed they only reminded me of Kuma in looks, as most of them ran off. All except one. This one was a bear cub that seemed to be interested by my fighting. Ah, he would thence forth be called Kuma III!

The Pikachu crossed his arms and laughed.

Pikachu(?): I trained the young cub as if it was it was Kuma. Day in and day out, we sparred together, hunted, and sparred some more until it was time to rest. However, I felt that someone was watching the two of us. To my surprise, a young woman was watching us from the bushes. I demanded her to show herself and tell us what business she had with us. Though, it appears that she was too focused on how I had looked, because she simply called me cute.

The Pikachu shook his head.

Pikachu(?): Before I knew it, she summoned a creature called Machamp to attack me, and a Weavile to handle Kuma III. Despite the blows we traded, this tiny body couldn't defeat the four armed brute, nor could it withstand the blows it was met with. The woman was impressed with how such a tiny creature managed to push back so much agaisnt one, though. Suddenly, she threw an orb at me. It was black and yellow in color. It hit my head and I was sucked inside. I had assumed the worst.

The Pikachu sat down and placed a hand on his cheek.

Pikachu(?): Eventually, I woke up in some sort of hospital along with Kuma III. The young woman apparently similar to me in a way, except there was less training and more...pampering. Everyday had an abundance of sweets...

The Pikachu shuddered. Perhaps too many sweets.

Pikachu(?): I eventually transformed into what I am today through a process called evolution. Kuma III soon evolved into a much larger bear. Apparently, there were conditions that were met to meet this requirement. I'm not interested in figuring it out. All that matters is that I was stronger. The young woman came to me with a poster, a fighting tournament. Hm, it seemed similar to what I used to participate in. I saw no qualms with entering the ring once again. This would be a good test to my skill to see if I haven't gone rusty yet.

The Pikachu rose to his feet.

Pikachu(?): And here I am, standing as the champion of this battle tournament. I, Heihachi Mishima, am still alive! I, Heihachi Mishima, am still a warrior! And I, Heihachi Mishima, am-

Leaf's Cousin: Heihachu!

Heihachu: Pika?

Heihachi in the body of Pikachu, Heihachu for short, turned and looked at Leaf's cousin. She was holding a small robe. It appears that she couldn't understand what he was actually saying.

Leaf's Cousin: You forgot to wear your king robe. And why are you saying Pika a lot?

Heihachu: Pika Pi.

Leaf's Cousin: Huh? You wanna wear the black open vest with that Mishima logo on it?

Heihachu: Pikachu.

Leaf's Cousin: Well, if you say so.

Leaf's Cousin hands him the vest and leaves. Heihachu puts it on.

Heihachu, narrating with an evil smirk: I, Heihachi Mishima, am still the King of the Iron Fist. So I am a Pikachu, what of it? Be it as a human or this, I shall make sure my name is known, and be remembered as the strongest warrior.

#incorrect quotes #smash bros #submission #incorrect super smash bros #super smash bros #Kazuya #Heihachi #Terry #Terry Bogard #Pokemon Trainer #Leaf #Tekken #Heihachu #Pokemon #Fatal Fury

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snapdragon-mina · 3 years

Text

Enchanted Pt. 1

Kuroo Tetsurou x GN!Reader

A/N: UHHHHH, here's my late entry for ✨the newest✨ POCuties Sever Collab Based on the movie version of Ella Enchanted

Warnings: No beta we die like men, a couple swear words here and there, mentions of death, attempted murder, and this is a Crack fic treated seriously. Part 2 will be out within a few hours of this.

Word Count: 2.8k

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

----------------❌----------------

It all starts with a baby. A beautiful baby named (y/n) was born into a comfortable family. This baby cried a lot, wanting to be held by their mother constantly. She took good care of her baby alongside kiyoko, a household fairy. Everything worked out beautifully until a particular fairy godmother appeared. As desperately as the mother and kiyoko tried, they could not hide the baby from Satori (the only fairy godfather who gave god awful gifts).

As much as Satori tried to quiet the baby's crying, it would not stop. This gave him the perfect idea for a gift. He gave the child the "gift" of obedience. (y/n) would not be able to disobey a command given to them no matter what. Kiyoko absolutely hated the gift that Satori gifted the baby and begged him to take it back but he refused.

Despite the gift they were given, (y/n) grew up to be strong willed and determined. Once they discovered a girl being bullied for something as stupid as a name, they quickly took to standing up for her. The girl introduced herself as Yachi and they became best friends very quickly.

When (y/n) discovered the gift, they asked for Kiyoko to take it away, only to be told that she couldn't. But despite this, (y/n) always fought against the gift whenever they could.

When (y/n) was still a child, their mother grew very ill. As she laid in her bed, she told (y/n) to never reveal their gift to anyone. She didn't want her child to be taken advantage of. Before she passed away, she gave them her necklace to remember her by.

----💫----

Getting dressed, (y/n) put on their mother's necklace only to be interrupted by none other than Kiyoko. "(Y/n), your father wants to speak to you." She said before taking her leave.

(y/n) walked to their father's study only to receive shocking news.

"What?! You're married??"

"Look, she has money. It was either marry her or sell the house. She has two sons, so there's no doubt she's a wonderful mother-figure." He let out a sigh before continuing. "I'm sure you'll all be the best of friends, just... give them all a chance."

The next morning, three people arrived in a carriage. They were *not* pleased at the sight of the house.

(y/n)'s father greeted the three with a warm smile and two kisses to the woman's cheeks. "Welcome, my dear. These must be your sons?"

She nodded with a fake smile. "Yes, this is my dear Tooru, and my... other son, Tobio." The brunette just stared while the black haired one did an exaggerated bow. Just as this occurred, (y/n) walks out of the house to meet the three new people who were supposedly living with them now.

"You must be (y/n)." The woman said, giving them a once over. (y/n) bowed and greeted them with a polite "pleased to meet you."

After a short, awkward pause, the woman returned her attention to the father. "You have a wonderful home, but I recall you saying that you had a castle." she hissed out.

He shook his head. "No no, you must be mistaken, I said "A man's home is his castle"."

While their father and the lady talked, (y/n) introduced themselves with a smile only to be almost completely ignored.

Inside the house, the two brothers began setting up. Tooru putting up posters of a prince while Tobio explained.

"Tooru's president of Prince Tetsu's fan club." They grinned at each other only for their faces to fall into a scowl when (y/n) spoke.

"You must be aware that Tetsurou and his uncle are responsible for the segregation of the kingdom, right?"

With a judging look, Tooru spoke. "so? He's hot."

After looking around a bit the two were getting increasingly displeased with their surroundings. A small room, damn near nonexistent closet space, etc. "This won't work." The brunette spoke in a clearly disgusted tone. "We'll use yours. Show it to us."

Unable to disobey the command, (y/n) led them towards their room. Tooru narrowed his eyes and seemed to file that bit of information for later. Upon reaching the room, He was immediately disgusted. "It looks awful. There isn't any room here either. We're throwing out some of your clothes."

"what?! No. Get out of my closet." They went to attempt to force him away only for him to immediately demand that you get away from him.

As they backed up, He noticed the necklace and demanded that it be given to him. Unfortunately, (y/n) was forced to hand over the necklace.

Not a moment later, (y/n)'s father announced his business trip. They needed money and his work was the only thing keeping them afloat.

----💫----

During a heated debate in class is when Tooru figured it out. They'd been debating on whether king Kei had been a fair ruler or not. (y/n) was vehemently arguing in favor that he was not. He'd enslaved every other race and forced them to work in little stereotyped boxes. He'd made laborers and entertainers out of anyone non human. (y/n) *hated* it.

Tooru, on the other hand, thought that he was a wonderful ruler. He gave us free enterprises, humans don't have to work hard at things that *they* should be doing. They disagreed and when (y/n) insulted the prince. Tooru demanded that they apologize and admit they're wrong and when (y/n) did, it all clicked. (Y/n) couldn't obey a single command they were given.

----⭐----

"Do I really have to go to this mall opening?" Tetsurou asked his uncle as they sat inaide of an extremely expensive looking carriage.

"As heir to the throne, it's your responsibility. You're a public figure. You have to be seen." Kei told him simply.

"Yeah but you're the one in charge."

"Not for long. Your coronation is next week and you need to be out there with your people, Tetsu."

Seated next to Kei was Tadashi, who was something like Kei's closest companion. You would rarely ever see Kei without Tadashi.

Kei advised Tetsurou that keeping a good public image builds trust within a kingdom before telling him of the things that where apparently going on within the kingdom.

Of giants and ogres wanting to rebel against them and take them down but none of this sounded right to him.

"The giants have always been peaceful." Tetsurou said, confused as to why he was being told otherwise.

"The ogres were once peaceful as well. Until they killed your father in cold blood." His voice held a certain edge to it. "Before your father's gruesome death, I promised him that if anything happened to him, I would take care of you and the kingdom." Pushing up his glasses, a glare formed on the glass, shielding his eyes from view. "I have kept my promise, haven't I?"

Tetsurou remained silent for the rest of the ride, turning to face the window instead of his uncle.

----💫----

(Y/n) sat in the crowd next to Yachi, surrounded by hundreds of adoring fans of the prince as king Kei made an announcement.

"Thank you. It's wonderful to be in your... charming town of... Frell. Prince Tetsurou and I-" He was immediately cut off by the sounds of hundreds of people screaming at the mere mention of the prince's name. Kei decided to get the announcement done and over with. "And now it's with great pleasure that I introduce Prince Tetsurou."

Screams broke out again as the prince stepped into view. He waved as he walked out.

This was their cue.

Immediately, (y/n) and Yachi stood up on a fountain holding banners that read Say No To Ogrecide! and Stop Giant Land Grab!. The began chanting these words at the prince, catching his attention.

Tooru did not like this. He immediately ran over to the two protesting. "You're embarrassing us!" he hissed. "Go Home. Now."

Immediately, (y/n) began apologizing to Yachi as they left her there.

----⭐----

"Prince Tetsu, are you a fast runner?" A girl in the front asked him. He shook his head with a smile.

"Not really, why?" He immediately regretted those words. Because as soon as they left his mouth, the crowd charged at him; forcing him to flee.

He ran as quickly as he could until he ran into someone walking down a pathway. Quickly, he pulled them down and behind a stone wall.

"Prince Tetsurou."

"Please, call me Tetsu..." He trailed off, looking at the person he had just pulled down. "Sorry about that." He attempted to help them up, only to immediately be shot down.

"I don't need your chivalry and I definitely don't intend on bowing to you, either." They dusted themselves off and began walking away.

"Bow or not, that's your choice. Can't really do much about that other than have you beheaded, but that's a bit too much" he joked.

"Charming. Why don't you do what your people usually do? Steal my land and destroy my livelihood. Now if you'll excuse me." They continued walking away only to be forcefully stopped by him commanding them to wait and come back.

Groaning, (y/n) turned around and walked back to him, standing directly in front of him.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"(Y/n) of Frell."

"(Y/n)... You're one of the first people I've met that hasn't immediately melted at the sight of me." He sounded astonished.

"It might've done you some good." They rolled their eyes and went to turn around and leave again.

Tetsurou paused and looked offended. "Wait, I've never stolen anyone's land nor their livelihood. I want peace in the kingdom as much as anyone."

(y/n) turned around with a scowl on their face. "So you have a new plan once you take the crown?"

"Well... Sorta... I can't reveal it though."

They scoffed in his face. "Yeah, thought so. Y'know you're all the same. You care more about your fancy club and next jousting tournament."

"I- well I've never been comfortable with having a fanclub. In fact... Your obvious hatred of me is kinda refreshing." He grinned.

"Obvious? I was trying so hard to hide it." They rolled their eyes and continued on their walk home. As they were walking they suddenly remembered leaving their bag. Any attempt to go retrieve it was immediately stopped by a simple "wait right there."

They were stuck in place as Tetsu rushed back to get it. Unfortunately, a carriage was rushing towards them. They called out his name but was only saved as they were inches away from getting hit.

"Are you insane?! Why didn't you move?" Tetsurou asked.

"Yeah... I would've... were it not for your apparent fascination with knocking me to the ground." They sat up. "This is the second time today."

"Yeah well I'll try to be more considerate next time you're about to get ran over."

"What makes you think we'll see each other again?" They raised an eyebrow.

"Won't we?" he asked.

"Nope."

Before much else could be said, Tooru stood in the middle of the path, seething. "Get over here."

Immediately, (y/n) got up and walked over.

"Shouldn't you be at home cleaning the fireplace?" Tooru let out a forced laugh before whispering to them. "Stop flirting. I'm going to be at his coronation."

"Yeah in the center of the table with an apple in your mouth." They muttered in response.

"Go back to the mall with Tobio."

(y/n) stormed off with Tobio in tow as Tooru stayed back to try to flirt with his royal highness.

----💫----

At the mall, (y/n) met back up with Yachi. "Where were you?" the girl asked. (y/n) explained their meeting with the prince and went on to say that Tobio and Tooru were there.

"Why do you always do what Tooru tells you to?" She asked.

"No I don't."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't."

"Tell the truth."

"Guess I do..."

A moment later the two were spotted by Tobio and Tooru. "(Y/n). take that for me." Tooru asked, pointing towards something on a stand. The moment they took it, something lit up in Tobio's eyes. It quickly devolved into demanding them to steal various items against their will until they got caught taking a pair of glass slippers.

It resulted in (y/n) getting chased throughout the mall by a guard.

----💫----

The moment their new step mother learned that (y/n) had been arrested for theft, she flew into exaggerated hysterics. "A felon in my own home!" she cried.

Kiyoko immediately came to their defense. "They were probably put up to it. The (y/n) I know, would never do this." She glared at the brothers. However, as Tooru looked out the window, He got an idea.

"Kiyoko's right, we were there. They were forced to and it isn't poor (y/n)'s fault at all." He sighed to his mother, leaving (y/n) and kiyoko confused.

"So, Who put you up to it?" The woman demanded as she looked away.

A devious smirk graced Tooru's face. "Tell her it was Yachi." He whispered.

"Y-" They quickly covered their mouth but that wasn't enough. "Yachi."

Kiyoko closed her eyes and let out a sigh. The woman immediately forbade (y/n) from ever speaking to them again.

It was then that Yachi approached the door with the intent to ask (y/n) about what had happened at the mall. (y/n) was forced to answer the door and tell their best and only friend that they never want to see her again.

Later that day, (y/n) cried to Kiyoko about how awful the experience was until they came to the conclusion that they absolutely had to find the fairy that cursed them and Kiyoko offered something that would help them.

She held a book in her hands and present it to to them.

"I'm not... The most talented fairy... But this book is my boyfriend, Ryuu..."

The book was a light pink and gold with a magic mirror in the center. It showed a face in it and the moment he was revealed, he greeted (y/n).

"I've never seen anyone like it."

"Well, It was an accident. I wanted to practice a spell that would trim his hair since it had grown out, but it... didn't go well. So now he's in a book." Kiyoko explained.

Kiyoko allowed (y/n) to take Ryuu along with them on their journey.

----💫----

They walked through a forest, holding Ryuu in their hands when they heard screams. An elf was stuck to a spinning wheel as a couple of people threw darts at him. The elf told them to kick their asses and they did just that.

He began commentating as they fought off the guys and eventually, they won the fight with the men retreating.

Immediately (y/n) helped the elf down and checked on them quickly. Fortunately, the elf was completely uninjured.

"I'm Shoyo!"

"I'm (y/n). Nice to meet you. Now if you're okay, it was nice to meet you but I have to leave."

That didn't sit well with Shoyo. He immediately began arguing and trying to convince them to eat with him until he succeeded. Convinced that (y/n) wouldn't make it through the woods alone.

Eventually they made it to a bar in an Shoyo's home town with only a minor distraction.

Inside of the bar, they both sat down to eat and so (y/n) decided to ask a question. "Why don't you like music?"

"Right because all Elves are supposed to love singing and dancing. I wanna be an athlete, not an singer or dancer."

(Y/n) nodded sympathetically. "Yeah I understand that. I'd forgotten all about the laws that restrict elves from being anything other than singers and other occupations like that."

----💫----

After convincing Shoyo to come with them, (y/n) walked alongside him calmly until they were caught up with a couple of ogres. (y/n) tried to convince the ogres that that they were on their side only for that to backfire horribly and end up with them being steadily lowered into a pot with Shoyo tied to a tree.

Extremely conveniently, Prince Tetsurou found them and fought off the ogres, freeing (y/n) and Shoyo. He backed one of them against a tree with a sword pointed at the ogre's neck. "Are you one of the monsters that killed my father?"

The ogre looked confused. "What? No no, you've got it all wrong. King Koutarou was a good man! We lived in peace during his reign, why would we ever want to kill him?"

Tetsurou pulled the sword away from the ogre but didn't seem to believe his words. "Leave. Find breakfast somewhere else."

The ogres agreed and quickly left the area. Tetsurou turned towards (y/n). "What are you doing here w with an elf for protection? Do you get off to near death experiences or something?"

"No. I had things under control." They lied.

"Yeah, sure you did. I see the score stands Chivalry: 2, Gratitude: 0." He said, back facing them.

They apologized and thanked him for the help before cleaning dressing a wound he'd gotten from protecting them.

"So... Where are you heading?"

"A giant's wedding. I have to meet my godfather."

"That's on the way back to me home, I'll come with."

"No thanks."

"Too bad."

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girlsgonemildblog · 3 years

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Valley of the Dolls and Hollywood's Desire to Self-Protect

Poster from imdb.com

Valley of the Dolls (1967) tells the story of three young women working in show business in the 1960s. Originally adapted from Jacqueline Susann’s 1966 book by the same name, the screenplay was written by two women, Helen Deutsch and Dorothy Kingsley. The director for the film, though, was a man, named Mark Robson. The plot centers around three protagonists, Anne Welles, Neely O’Hara, and Jennifer North. Their stories connect and separate several times as they each navigate Hollywood, growing in stardom and fading into oblivion. All three storylines follow two themes, the role of women in the 1960s and the abuse of drugs by these women to deal with the pressures of their culture. The film largely stays true to the novel, but alters some important aspects in order to soften the critique that Susann originally proposed. Valley of the Dolls is an attempted commentary on societal demands on women in the 1960s, but is unsuccessful in its criticism due to continuing to perpetuate several misogynistic standards and Hollywood trying to alleviate itself of guilt.

Valley of the Dolls is one of few movies from its era that centers on multiple female leads without allowing for any male characters to come in and dominate the narrative. The story goes further than to just portray women, and even passes commentary on the harmful expectations put on them by society. There are messages about the workforce, body image, and marriage roles all present. Still, while the film may seem to have a feminist message for most of the plot, it falls short in its final moments. The two women, Neely and Jennifer, who are outwardly ambitious and more sexually promiscuous, are punished for their behavior, while the virginally pure and soft spoken Anne is the one who gets a happy ending, though not in the traditional sense.

The first woman to look at is Neely O’Hara (Patty Duke). Neely, the youngest of the three, is also the most talented and the most ambitious. While her two co-protagonists experience minor stardom, Neely becomes a full-fledged celebrity. As Neely begins her rise to the top, she is forced to work out, despite already being nearly rail thin. During her work-out montage, she even asks her trainer, “you call this acting?” This moment serves to show that for women, being an actor was not strictly about their talent, but also the way they looked. Working out is a part of the job for Neely because if she gains weight, people will no longer want to look at her and thus she won’t be able to be on stage or screen.

The affect of her ambition on her womanhood is also seen through the depiction of her first marriage to her hometown sweetheart, Mel (Martin Milner). When Neely gets her big break, she asks Mel to marry her, flipping the tradition of a man asking a woman. This is the first evidence of the gender role reversal that will be present later. In one scene, after Neely has made it and begun earning more money, the audience sees that Mel is now in charge of keeping house, a job typically meant for the wife at this time. The two get into an argument and Mel, sick of being bossed around by Neely, states, “I am not the butler,” to which Neely retorts, “you’re not the bread winner either.” The two get divorced shortly after. In the beginning of the movie, as Neely is about to be cut out of the broadway show, Mel gives her advice on how to handle the situation in a way that is both best for her career and best for earning money. Mel is more than happy to support Neely’s ambition when she is starting out and he is controlling her success. When Neely grows beyond his grasp, begins to overshadow him, and no longer needs him, the turmoil of their relationship begins. Mel’s male ego cannot handle having a wife who not only is not reliant on him, but who he is reliant on.

In contrast, Jennifer’s fatal flaw is not her ambition but her body. The audience is introduced to Jennifer (Sharon Tate) as she is scantily clad in a leotard with a giant showgirl headpiece on. Her first line is concern that she cannot walk, “I feel a little top heavy,” to which her director replies, “Dear, you are top heavy.” This is met by a chorus of laughter from the men in the room and clear distress from Jennifer’s face. Jennifer’s sin is simply her breasts and her beauty; she is punished for merely existing in her natural form. On the phone with her mother, she states, “I know I don’t have any talent, and I know all I have is my body.” She recognizes that she has no marketable skills, but with the way that society has commodified the female figure, she can use her natural assets to get ahead.

Jennifer’s plot line introduces the character of Miriam (Lee Grant), the sister of Jennifer’s husband, Tony (Tony Scotti). Miriam also manages Tony. This is interesting because all the other women in the film are controlled by men, but Miriam is not only not controlled by a man, but controls one herself. Jennifer, who seems not to have a manager, but operates as an independent, eventually is taken on by Miriam, emphasizing the way that Miriam acts as a male figure, controlling and dominating her world like men normally do. Miriam eventually sells Jennifer into porn. When Jennifer tries to protest, Miriam insists, “Tony wouldn’t know the difference.” Jennifer’s plea of “well, I would,” falls on deaf ears. Miriam views the world like a man, thinking only a husband should be offended by his wife’s immodesty, not recognizing that the woman is also a person with feelings about the exposure of her own body.

Jennifer’s whole life and career is based on her body. When she is diagnosed with breast cancer and must get a mastectomy, she states, “all I ever had was a body. All I know how to do is take off my clothes.” She is realizing that without her breasts, she will have no way of earning a living or supporting herself, as she has done her whole life. This drives her to suicide, deciding she would rather die than lose her body. The message of this scene is clear; despite the fact that society has deemed her figure the only thing that gives her value, her exploitation of it still must be punished by death. Women are supposed to surrender to the forces of the patriarchy, not use them to their own advantage.

The third protagonist, the redeemable protagonist, is Anne Welles (Barbara Parkins). Anne is introduced at the very beginning of the film through her own narration as she tells the listener that her family’s home has been around since the revolution, showing that she represents American tradition. The story of George Washington drinking from their well symbolizes that people like Anne are what give America life. This American idealization is what protects Anne throughout her career. As she enters the office for the first time to the slut shaming of a pregnant cat, the audience immediately knows that this place will not be very friendly to women. This is fortified when her boss tells her she is “too good looking” for her job and talks about getting her “broken in”. This is exemplifying the idea that beautiful women aren’t meant for work while also objectifying them by talking about women like they’re shoes.

Her romantic interest, Lyon (Paul Burke), who is also her boss, calls Anne, “barely pink” when he first meets her, admiring how young she is. He later tells her that jewelry is not for her, and that she should only be gifted flowers, specifically white ones. These are both attempts to preserve Anne’s delicacy, or “pinkness”. Diamonds and gold are too flashy for a soft spoken woman like Anne, and the white flowers clearly symbolize purity. Constantly throughout the entire film, the audience is reminded of Anne being special and unlike other “bad” women such as Neely or Jennifer. At one point Lyon tells Anne that no other girls compare to her because they can’t “stand up to her image”. Not her actual person or personality, but her image. Anne does not have actual personhood in the eyes of Lyon, but exists only as the idealized woman.

This is further exemplified when she becomes the Gillian Girl. The man who hires her says he wants someone known with Gillian exclusively. The idea here is they want her to be only an image of beauty and innocence; if she works with other brands or as an actress she becomes more than one-dimensional and people can discover that she may have flaws. Anne’s ability to maintain her image of perfection and purity throughout the entire film is why she gets to live happily ever after at the end, unlike her two counterparts. She returns to her hometown and lives out the rest of her life as the embodiment of American tradition.

This movie gets its title from the nickname that Neely gives the pills that she and the other two protagonists all become addicted to. The name, “dolls”, calls to mind a picture of girlhood and female adolescence, highlighting how young Neely is (only 17) when the story begins. Many movies of the 1960s, such as Dennis Hopper’s Easy Rider (1969) were depicting taking psychedelic drugs and having crazy trips. Valley of the Dolls shows a different type of drug use, the abuse of painkillers. Though the main characters are movie stars and models, their drug habit was likely more relatable to the suburban movie-going audience than that of Hopper’s characters. It was all too common for housewives to be prescribed “mother’s little helpers” to deal with what was condescendingly written off as “hysteria”. Another difference between these two movies is that psychedelic trips were portrayed as freeing, eye-opening experiences. In contrast, the painkillers are entrapping for the women and ultimately ruin their careers and end their lives.

The character who has the least interaction with the “dolls” is Anne. This is done to keep the idea of Anne as the “pure”, “good” character. The way she begins to take the drugs is interesting, though; she first picks up the bottle when she realizes that her long-term boyfriend, Lyon, is having an affair with her best friend, Neely. This serves two purposes. This first is that it shows that the pills are not used for pleasure, like psychedelics would be, but for numbing purposes. This also displays the corruptive force of Hollywood; it is not until the plot moves from New York to Hollywood that these women turn sour. Because of this city, Neely betrays her best friend and sweet, innocent Anne is driven to drug use.

Jennifer is seen taking the pills two times, twice as often as Anne is. The first time she takes them is when she learns about Tony’s illness. Again, they are used to numb emotional pain. The second time Jennifer is shown taking the pills is when she purposely overdoses on them to kill herself. This is the most extreme version of numbing difficult emotions a person can take, and the most obvious way that the movie could show that these drugs do not provide enjoyment but rather stop misery. What the “dolls” provide is nothingness, and Jennifer takes this nothingness to its maximum.

Neely is the character whose story is most entangled with drug use. She begins when her trainer gives her diet pills to slim her already thin figure. During this montage, the audience clearly sees Mel, the symbol of her pre-fame life, shake his head and tell her no, but she responds with a shrug, as if to say, “what’s the worst that could happen?” Shortly after, she tells Anne that she takes sleeping pills that are so strong, she has to take red pills to counteract them to wake up in the mornings, but then must take the sleeping pills again at night because the red ones have not yet worn off. Taking the pills is an endless cycle for Neely that will lead her to spiral to rock bottom.

In a following scene, Neely is seen being an absolute mess on the set of a movie, causing them to call for her husband to take her home because she cannot work under such strong influence of drugs and alcohol. When Anne and Lyon go to check on her, Anne lectures her about the danger of drinking while taking the pills, but Neely asserts that she must do so because it makes them work faster. This moment shows the desperation Neely has to stop feeling. Later on, after getting drunk in a dive-bar, having sex with some random nobody, and being robbed the morning after, Neely overdoses and nearly dies. Anne implies that this may have been intentional, despite Neely insisting otherwise. The audience is left to wonder.

During the third act of the movie, after Neely has gone to rehab and gotten clean, her older rival, Helen Lawson (Susan Hayward), brags about how she never needed pills like Neely did. Lawson claims her current sobriety is only temporary and Neely will eventually return to her old bad habits. The character summarizes Neely’s entire story with one line, “nothing can destroy her talent, but she’ll destroy herself.” Lawson’s words come true; Neely’s final scene sees her relapsing on opening night of the show she’s supposed to star in and being replaced by her younger understudy, the very thing she was afraid of. Her story closes on her drunk in an alley, screaming her own name.

To properly analyze this film, one must compare it to its source material, Jacqueline Susann’s novel by the same name. Though the movie stays true to the novel in most major plot points, there are distinct narrative changes and omissions that drastically alter the story. One of the most distinct examples of this is that Lyon refuses to marry Anne until the final scene of the film. In the novel, he marries her when they first reunite in Los Angeles. When he begins his affair with Neely, Anne is pregnant with their first child, which gives Anne a stronger motive to turn to the pills than she has in the movie. The book version of the two women are also much closer friends, which creates a more dramatic change in Neely’s character than in the film. Removing these two extremes makes Neely’s character arc less impactful.

Another aspect that was removed is Tony’s obsession with sex. An important part of Jennifer’s characterization is that she has always been made to feel that her body is her only source of value. This is added to, in the novel, by the fact that sex is the foundation for her relationship with her husband. This is only alluded to in the film with one line when they are walking in the park. In the novel, it is emphasized explicitly at multiple points. One of the reasons Jennifer chooses to kill herself rather than lose her breasts is because she believes she will lose even her husband’s love. The film likely made this change, as well as the marital change, to make the characters of Tony and Neely more sympathetic. While this goal is accomplished, it also softens the harsh realities that Susann was trying to expose in her novel.

One final difference between the film and novel is the ending. In the film, Lyon finally proposes to Anne and she rejects him, getting to move on with her life and live peacefully. She gets a happy ending. The novel ends with Anne and Lyon still married, her discovering that he is having yet another affair with a client, and her returning to the pills. This final note makes it clear that there are no happy endings for women in this city. The change is another example of Hollywood trying to show itself in a more flattering light than the one Susann placed on it.

Valley of the Dolls, the novel, was written by a female author as a way to condemn the mistreatment of women in the 1960s, specifically the mistreatment perpetuated by Hollywood on women in show business. The film adaptation tries to duplicate this commentary, but fails for multiple reasons. The first is that it chooses to save the “good girl” character. In the written work, all three stories ending in tragedy shows how no woman is safe from the effects of the patriarchy. Opting to protect the “pure” character alters the message completely so that it is no longer a criticism but a continuation of the idea that ambitious, promiscuous women deserve punishment and good, virginal women deserve happy endings. In addition, it omits important plot points that provide motivation for the characters self-destructive actions, such as Anne taking the pills for the first time and Jennifer committing suicide. By removing the catalysts, the characters are turned into cliché hysterical women. The film fails to adapt Susann’s novel correctly because it replicates the sensational bits while omitting the message. Unlike the book, the film serves only to entertain and not to critique.

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wherethewordsare · 4 years

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Dreams of You Still Live Inside of Me Part 1/?

Welp... @theamazingbard posted this a few days ago and I couldn’t help myself so here we are. Uh, mind the tags, this is probably going to get kinda spooky at some parts and fairly wumpy at others. I’ll update tags as I go and there will also be a posting on AO3... soon...ish?

Obligatory tag for @jaskierswolf <3

If you want to be tagged on this series or anything going forward, please let me know! :)

-Jay

---

The den reeked of unwashed bodies, festering wounds, and spilled blood, layers of it. Geralt wrinkled his nose, his eyes scanning the darkness for the telltale sign of blue he had been warned about.

The village had called it a djinn, but what they described was nothing near what Geralt had ever heard of before. It was possible that maybe this thing had been a djinn at one point, or it was something completely new. A new mutation that the Witchers would have to now be wary of.

Looking around, counting up the huddled forms, Geralt got the distinct and unnerving feeling that this thing was not new. It was in fact incredibly old and incredibly dangerous. Every once in awhile there would be a soft sound of contentment or even a rolling giggle, half murmured words.

He knelt beside an older woman, and watched her face closely. She was still breathing and there was the tiniest smile curling her lips. He looked her over and saw what he had seen on the others around her. Her arms were covered in long scratch marks, like tallies, angry bruises around each of them. Geralt rolled her as gently as possible, finding what looked to be a tendril, almost like a vine slipping into the back of her neck. Glowing blue fluid trickled sluggishly around the wound where it dug in.

Geralt looked around, not seeing any sign of the monster. Pulling out the dagger from his boot, he propped the woman up and made to cut the tendrel in her neck. He barely had his fingers around it to pull it taught when her eyes flew open, milky and burning bright blue. She let out a scream that nearly burst his eardrum.

“Fuck,” he tumbled back, pulling the dagger up and wheeling around. Something behind him, always behind him slithered along the ground. His hand clamped over the back of his neck as he felt a pinch but it was too late.

“Fuck!” Geralt was unconscious before he hit the ground.

-o-O-o-

It was the feeling of his heartbeat, too fast but steady in his throat, that must have woken him. The smell of something terrible lingered but he was safe in his bed at home.

Safe? No, he had just been fighting a… something? Bright blue specks floated behind his eyes, a dull ache pushing against his head.

The sheets pooled around his hips when Geralt sat up, softer than he thought they should be. Far finer than anything he had been used to when travelling with-

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to stave off the pounding behind them. He felt-

“Well good morning, handsome!” Jaskier waltzed in and Geralt started.

He finally took in the room around him. The furniture was understated but still lavish and he found himself in a large four poster with linens that were far more expensive alone than his whole armor set.

But I don’t have armor? He thought, frowning down at the covers that he gripped in his hands. He looked up again to find Jaskier was standing there with a look of concern on his face.

“Are you alright, dear heart?” Jaskier leaned first against the edge of the bed before climbing in and onto Geralt’s lap, his arms wrapping around him as if it was just something he did. He gave Geralt an easy teasing kind of smile. “Did you have far more to drink last night than I originally thought? You shouldn’t let Merik egg you on so much.” And then…

Geralt’s mind went pleasantly blank as Jaskier leaned down and kissed him, his fingers threading up through Geralt’s hair. If Geralt wasn’t pretty sure he was losing his mind, he would have even thought it an incredibly nice kiss. Jaskier’s mouth was warm and soft above him and it was easier than breathing to wrap his arms around his waist. He was rewarded with Jaskier’s soft breathy laugh and, oh, he wanted to hear that again.

This was a dream, Geralt decided. A very good, very vivid, very warm dream. That’s why when he took a deep breath, trying to fill his lungs with as much of Jaskier as he could, he found that the smell of him was muted somehow. But he was there so Geralt rolled them, tangling them both in the sheets as he dipped his head to drag his teeth along the pale column of Jaskier’s throat.

Geralt tried not to think of how everything around him seemed muted in the same way. Shadows around the edges of the otherwise bright room were deeper, how he had to be pressed tightly to Jaskier to feel his heart beating in tandem with his own.

He didn’t have a chance to think about that before Jaskier was pushing up on his shoulder gently, still beaming under him but now deliciously rumpled.

“Come on, you big oaf, we have people to meet today,” he hummed leaning up to nip on Geralt’s chin affectionately.

It struck Geralt how easy the gesture came, how openly affectionate Jaskier smiled at him. His hand came up, cupping the side of Jaskier’s face, pushing his hair out of the way as Geralt’s thumb traced his cheekbone.

That’s when it caught his eye. Geralt looked closer above Jaskier’s brow and frowned. The small scar that had been in his hairline nearly as long as they had known each other was gone.

They were sitting in camp and Geralt took Jaskier’s face gently in his hand, dabbing at the cut with a damp cloth.

“It will need stitches,” he said flatly.

“Oh no, Geralt! Not my face, I’m far too pretty to scar!” Jaskier squirmed. They had been travelling together for only a few months and this was the closest Geralt had ever seen him to fear, and it wasn’t directed at him.

“Don’t worry. You’ll still be pretty.”

“You think I’m pretty, Witcher?” Jaskier tried to waggle his eyebrows but winced, a fresh stream of blood sliding down his brow.

“Hold still, you’ll only make it worse,” he hid his smile behind annoyance and exasperation.

When had they been traveling again?

Jaskier was turning his face into Geralt’s hand, kissing his palm. “As much as I would love to stay like this all day,” he leaned up, propping himself on his elbows, “we have so much to do before overmorrow.”

Geralt let him up, watching this Jaskier closely. As Jaskier moved from under him, Geralt caught his hand, letting himself revel in the way Jaskier just let him as if it didn’t bother him. But the skin he found there was soft and unbroken. The calluses he knew populated Jaskier’s fingertips and the top of his palm were all smoothed away.

“My you’re affectionate this morning,” he leaned down and gave Geralt a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you at breakfast, dear heart.”

Geralt watched from the large unfamiliar bed, tracking this familiar and unfamiliar Jaskier as he left. But his eyes caught instead on something else.

Across from where he sat, a long looking glass hung on the wall. What he couldn’t quite understand was that the man there was in fact, handsome. Geralt had the distinct memory of long silver hair and bright amber eyes from the last time he looked into his reflection. Now, he was met with tousled dark curls and warm hazel eyes. His bare chest was unmarred by battle wounds. He was just… a man? A human, stripped of his mutations and the wear of the Path.

The only thing that seemed to not have changed was the deep concerned scowl reflected back at him. Even in his wildest dreams, Geralt was still always Geralt the Witcher, he would never even hope to be…

“It’s a djinn, Master Witcher. It has to be! How else could it have shown me… It’s all I ever wished…” The man sat there, haggard and on the brink of breaking down. His eyes had been sunken and they couldn’t seem to focus on Geralt’s face.

“Hmm. We’ll see,” Geralt nodded, leaving the tavern and the only survivor of the monster that had taken up residence in a nearby cave.

“Fuck.”

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runeterrankhaleesi · 4 years

Note

Hola 😁 may I have sfw & nsfw hc for Viego with a swordstress who is afraid to falling in love? I'm so glad to have discovered this wonderful blog #$&$&$&#&#@@

[A/N: Aw, how sweet of you, darling, to compliment me. Thank you. I endulged in joy when writing this particular ask. To help you understand the story a little bit more, in here Viego is a king and is still human. You are the Fiora Laurent of the kingdom. In here, Isolde does not exist, instead you are Isolde. To understand more, read his lore. I kept this vague as possible so things would be left to your imaginations. Thank you for requesting darling, you are welcome to ask again.]

SFW and NSFW Headcanons of Human Viego with a swordstress

SFW:

You are a talented swordstress, the best of the best in the country of Camavor.

Not only that, you were also a beautiful woman to the point where countless men had fallen on their knees and asked for your hand in marriage.

You had rejected every single one of them. Finding it disguting that they were only after your youthful beauty.

One day, you had come across a poster promoting about an international competition; a duel to find who was truly a master of the art of sword fighting. It was just your luck that it was being held in the country.

You had entered the tournament. Going through numerous eliminations and passing all of it left you as a finalist.

On the day of the competition, you were representing your home country and you had received a letter from the King himself, wishing you luck.

And after the first match did you turn around and saw the King as one of the spectators, sitting on a large chair directly facing the ring below, where you stood.

You drank all of his features one by one; his shoulder-length auburn hair, perfectly pairing those vibrant green eyes of his. You found yourself staring, longer than you should.

Snapping out of your trance, you quickly bowed as a sign of respect and a silent note that you were moving on to the next round.

As the the tournament dragged on, you found yourself thinking about him, more than you should.

When all ended and you had won, the King had met you personally and well, like all other men whom had met you before, he was entranced by your beauty.

Feeling that he might step into bounderies, he complimented you and congratulated you for winning the competition.

The days that followed were you being followed by the King, and not wanting to be disrespectful had let him. Only after you had enough did you finally confront him about it.

"I wanted to know you better, outside of your dueling. If you will allow me to court you." He had simply told you

"With all do respect, Your Highness, I must refuse." ,was your answer

"Why?" He had ask

"Countless men had asked for my hand and I had refused them. I have no interest in men who are only after my beauty."

"Dear, I am different from them." He took a step closer to you, "Truth, I am enchanted by your beauty since the first time we ever met, yet, when you stared at me from the ring below, strings pulled at my heart and I could not ignore it." He paused, taking a deep breath "Could you give this a chance?" He asked

"Your Highness, I'm afraid not. I fear to fall in love with someone after the bad history of men I dated. I realized that if they were after my beauty then they would throw me away as if I was a piece of trash once I grew old."

He took your hand in his and kneeled "Then I promise, if you'll allow me to court you, I shall prove that I am different from them. I will not throw you away, even if your hair turns grey."

True, you wanted to love somebody and be loved by somebody, but in your case, it was all too difficult. Now, here you are with the King begging for your permission to date you.

"I'll try, Your Highness." You meekly spoke.

Days after that, his courting had make you finally say yes to a relationship with him.

It was a bed of roses.

NSFW:

You seldom being involved with someone, had never done it before.

Viego assures you that he'll take care of you and you trusted him.

Maids prepped you, bathing in you lavender scented waters and clothed you in a emerald green robe made of the finest silk.

Your first time with him was a pleasurable experience.

Viego always made sure you were comfortable.

He handled you as if were something made of glass, fragile and delicate.

Deft fingers traced over your pampered body while his lips sucked the skin of your neck.

He took his time with you-to let you savour the moment.

When Viego had entered you, you had let out a hushed cry of pain, and he whispered sweet things into your ear, kissing your neck up and down to ease your pain.

When you were finished, Viego fetched a warm towel to clean you while he asked if you were okay.

After assuring him you were fine, he covered you with the robe once more, snuggling with you to sleep.

✨~Requests are open!~✨

#viego #viego x reader #lol x reader #league of legends #league of legends x reader #runeterrankhaleesi #Works of Khaleesi

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dirt-cup-draco · 3 years

Text

Fred Weasley x Reader- Games Part 2/2

@just-here-to-escape-from-reality: Pls make a part 2 of games where she finally tells him off 🙏🙏

Previously:

Even if you always lost, you loved Fred’s games. No one else could own your heart like he did. The lows were nothing in comparison to the highs. Even if he couldn’t commit, even if this was all you’d ever have, even if you crashed every night, it would all be worth it.

You knew that by the time the sun rose, you would be ready to play the game all over again.

Your bag was heavy against your shoulder, back aching and eyes burning. You’d snuck out again the night before to see Fred and you were regretting it now. Not just in the way your eyelids fluttered closed with exhaustion every time there was a lull in your class, but in the way your chest ached and every breath seemed like a battle.

Is he thinking about you? Maybe today is the day he’ll realize you’re the one he wants whether you’re behind closed doors or not.

Stomping out any gleaming bit of hope that tried to rise, you made your way to the great hall with slow and hesitant steps. Fred had been stealing you away for months now. Every word from his lips felt like a promise until you asked those damned words that felt like ice when you got lost in his fire. What are we?

Nothing. The practical, semi-pessimistic part of you hissed. Freddie knows you’re always going to be around, so why not have some fun in between girlfriends?

It felt more like the truth than the quiet girl muttering in the back of your brain that Fred Weasley might love you, but just not know it yet. You knew he had love for you, but never in the way you craved. Fred loved you because you were a constant. You were one of his closest friends and you could never stray long from those honey brown eyes and sinful smile. It was easy to love someone who gave you all the attention you could ever ask for and more, especially with a family as large as his and siblings so close in age.

You never asked anything in return and whether he knew it or not he was taking advantage of your love and it was bringing you closer to rock bottom everyday.

“Where’ve you been? You look like hell,” Lee Jordan pointed out and you tried to comment playfully, engaging in your normal banter, but you couldn’t find it in you. More often than not these days you couldn’t manage more thank a weak smile and a huff of laughter that felt foreign to your ears.

“Just been busy with school,” Had been your most relied upon excuse and it didn’t fail you now as Lee nodded, shoving a cauldron cake into his mouth and speaking over the crumbs that fell from his open mouth.

“Snape, the bloody bastard, took away ten house points from me yesterday just because my essay was two inches too short in length,”

“Not the first time you’ve been accused of being a bit too short in length,” Angelina giggled to Katie and with a holler from Lee and a snort from Fred, they had forgotten all about your plight.

George snuck a glance at you, noticing that your lips moved into automatic smiles when your friends around you grew more rambunctious but there was no warmth to it. It was like watching a puppet dance around on stage at the behest of someone else. He had to suppress a shiver when you looked to him, that tired turning of lips trying their best to convince him they were playing their part. Your eyes were dulled in a way he couldn’t remember seeing before. Surely school couldn’t be the issue?

Tucking into his meal after giving you the widest grin he could, hoping to share some warmth, George promised he would ask Fred before lights out if you were okay.

“Whaddya mean something’s wrong with Y/N?” Fred asked, eyebrows knit together but the concern that George expected to see at his statement was vanished. Instead, his twin’s look read more like he found George to be off his rocker.

“She’s just not herself,”

“I saw her last night, she seemed fine to me,”

“You were with Lee and I last night,”

Fred shrugged, tossing his pajama shirt on with nonchalance. “Saw her after,”

George narrowed his eyes, climbing into his four poster and trying to see if anything on Fred’s face would give away what was going on. If Fred was sneaking out to see you, after already getting up to no good with Lee and himself, what could the two of you possibly be up to?

“Something’s got to be wrong then if she’s losing sleep over your ugly mug,”

Fred laughed at the joke, and then, “Seriously Georgie, she’s fine. It’s just school getting on her nerves,”

Sensing he would get no other answer from his brother; George pulled his curtains around him, turned over in bed, and promptly fell asleep despite the growing questions.

George came to you the next day, hair rumpled and out of breath. “Merlin woman!” He exclaimed, sucking in a deep breath. “I’ve been calling your name since you left Potions. Where’re you going in such a rush? Been chasing you halfway ‘round the castle,”

“Oh don’t be a drama queen Georgie, it only suits your brother,” You teased and he was glad to hear some of the warmth back in your voice but it still remained void from your eyes. You looked....hurt. Not like you were shielding a bruise or trying to go easy on a limp, but like someone had taken everything dear to you and shattered it on the ground as if it were glass.

“Glad you brought him up,” George grinned, tossing his arm around your shoulder. He missed the way your smile drooped. Why could he possibly want to talk to you about Fred? Did he know? And if so, what did he think you and Fred were?

Maybe he told George he likes you. Your heart jerked around uncomfortably.

George wouldn’t be coming to you with questions if he had answers. Reason put your sporadic heartbeat to rest.

The boy with his arm around your shoulder steered you past the Great Hall and to the room of requirement. What could the boy need so badly that the room was now opening up to the two of you? You hesitated for a single step and then George was pulling you inside with a tug of your hand.

The space was small, comfortable. The fireplace behind you crackled and warmed your back. The two plush seats in the center called your name. You looked skeptically at the redhaired boy.

“What’s so concerning about Freddie that you’ve brought me here?”

George looked bashful, pink crawling up his neck. You shuffled nervously on your feet. “Well, it’s more about you than about him but he said something last night that’s got me wondering.... Do like Fred, Y/N?”

Your eyes bugged out, the air knocked from your chest. Not because George had figured it out, but because it had taken him so damn long. You let out an incredulous laugh, feet carrying you to one of the plush wingback chairs so that you could bring your knees to your chest as a form of protection.

“Took you long enough,”

George simply nodded, no gloating, no laughter, no teasing. You couldn’t help but grow more confused.

“George why is this relevant-”

“My next question-” He interrupted. “-is why you haven’t told him how you feel yet.”

The breath that had been knocked from your chest was having a hard time coming back in and you felt light headed as you forced yourself to inhale, albeit shakily. How did you explain to George that your true love, the boy you would trade the world for, didn’t feel the same and it had been proven by his lack of commitment and attentiveness.

“It’s a long story, we’ve been-”

“Sneaking around Hogwarts?” George guessed and you sent him a nasty glare but the proud little smile on his face at pulling a genuine reaction from you had you smiling back and the air was suddenly circulating in your lungs again.

“More or less, not stop interrupting or I fear I won’t let out all I need to,”

Heading your warning, and feeling an uneasiness in his chest, George quieted.

You revealed that after your kiss during a typical game of truth or dare, you had expected things to return to normal. You, with your feelings and hopes still intact for a someday with Fred. And him, not thinking anything of the kiss or hopefully thinking of a someday with you. You hadn’t been prepared for Fred to seek you out every chance he got to pull you into hidden spaces and snog you until your mind grew fuzzy and all worries vanished. Then, when you’d finally gained enough courage to ask what you two were, if the kisses meant anything, Fred had dodged a real answer and expected you to want what he wanted.

But how could you be what he wanted when you weren’t sure if it was you that he wanted? You were a friend, a confidant, a body. You stumbled over your seemingly harsh analyzation.

“I know he means well, he hasn’t done anything wrong,” You defended, wringing your hands together and it was only then that George had taken notice of the very obvious love bite on your neck. It had been covered well by your robes earlier but you’d been fidgeting in your seat the entire conversation. “He cares about me but I don’t think he cares about me that way, I’m just easy access and he’s grown used to it,”

George watched as the spark he’d seen not ten minutes before had sizzled out again and he finally had his answer. Fred was what was wrong with you. His idiot brother was using you, whether he saw it or not and you were being crushed by the weight of having the one you clearly more than liked but not having all of him. George felt guilt rise up and swirl with the fury in his gut. He wasn’t mad at his twin, but he was furious for you. You had been hollowed out because Fred acted first and thought last and never had to deal with the consequences of it.

“Y/N, you’re not-” George went to argue but his voice sounded pitiful even to his own ears, “He’s- I’m sure that he.... You know he cares,”

Your eyes met George’s and you could see the turmoil lying behind his eyes. Melted chocolate as opposed to the honey you’d fallen for. He was much like Fred but when you looked in his eyes you saw someone who wore his heart on his sleeve and Fred couldn’t be further from that.

“I know he does,” You sniffled, eyes glistening and George almost wished he could take back the blank look you’d been schooling for some odd days. He hated to see tears in your eyes. He hated knowing Fred had put them there and that he couldn’t make up for any of it. How did he fix his twin’s mistake?

With a short nod and an affectionate squeeze of his arm, you left George puzzled and alone in the room of requirement.

Fred wanted to see you again tonight.

You were sat in his lap, his hands running through your hair, but this time, both of you had your eyes on the stars. The nervousness bubbling in your chest was eased as Fred failed to make a move just yet. You were craving time spent with him that meant more than just easing his frustration or giving him a high. You wanted to be like this, comfortable and close, but content to do nothing. It made you feel more cared for than any kiss thus far.

Fred was always careful in the way he held you and kissed you, knowing just what made you turn to mush in his hands, but he was clumsy with your heart and after your conversation with George you feared he had dropped it too many times.

“Talked to Georgie last night...” Fred spoke into the night air, voice only a whisper but your heartrate spiked despite knowing that you and George had talked that evening and so Fred had to be alluding to a different conversation.

“It’s a bit odd when you don’t talk so-”

“Y/N/N” Fred interrupted gently, gaze soft as he made you look him in the eye. He was quiet longer than you expected. He was searching your features for something but all you could express was mild confusion. “He said there was something wrong, thought I would know. Y/N, what don’t I know?”

“Whaddya mean Freddie, I tell you everythi-”

“Why are you lying?” Fred huffed, eyebrows now knit together in frustration, his hands pressing harder against your hips but not uncomfortably. “I-I can see it now. Where’d my happy girl go?”

You bit down on your lip to stop from the whimper that wanted to force itself from your throat. You crawled out of Fred’s lap, immediately missing the warmth he provided. You wrung your hands together to distract from the sick feeling in your stomach. “That’s just it Freddie, ‘m not your girl,”

“Y-you’re not?” He asked, face paler in the moonlight than you had ever seen it before.

“I’m your best friend, I’m the person you trust most outside of Georgie, and I’m just another girl, another body. Like I told your brother... all I am is easy access,”

Fred’s face had gone red as you continued to speak and the frown grew more persistent on his face until it was morphing into a sneer. You’d have seen it if your eyes weren’t downcast and blurred with the tears that were starting to fall.

“You want parts of me Fred but you don’t want all of me and I can’t live that way anymore,” You choked out, hands slippery with your fallen tears. You looked up at the same time Fred bolted up, that angry look upon his face forcing you to wonder if you’d said something cruel in your admission.

You opened your mouth to ask him- Well what had you wanted to ask him? It all seemed to disappear now as he ran from the astronomy tower.

“Bloody hell!” George cussed as the door to his dorm was blown wide open, his counterpart stomping over the threshold with fury in his eyes. Fred’s hands were clenched tight, his jaw wired shut. George knew it was best to just wait for Fred to speak when these times came. He couldn’t help but feel the seed of worry that grew in his stomach when he remembered Fred and you had been together.

“I cant believe she-!” Fred began but a strangled scream cut off the rest of his sentence as he tugged at his hair. “And that I-!” Another sentence lost to the sound of Fred kicking his trunk.

Sooner than George thought, Fred was whirling on him, a finger suddenly pressed against his chest in accusation. “She told you how she felt dammit!”

“Who?” George asked and Fred threw his hands up in the air.

“Y/N!” He snarled, back to pacing the common room. “She told you that she felt like... like... well-”

“Easy access? Just another body? Like she was all yours and you could never be hers?” George supplied, laying back comfortably against his pillows as Fred took a seat beside him, deflated at the words that had riled him up so much.

“How could she think that?” Fred choked out, eyes misty as he looked to his best friend for answers. “I-I, well, I love her,”

George let out a grateful breath, one he’d been holding since he’d noticed your misery from across the table. “Because you idiot, you told her relationships were messy. Because you’ll hold her hand in the astronomy tower and make her feel like the most wanted girl in all of Hogwarts and then the next day she feels like the most invisible girl in Hogwarts. Because I know you better than you think and you didn’t realize until you stormed in here that you are irrevocably in love with Y/N Y/L/N. Now get your ass back to that tower and tell her yourself,”

And Fred did just that, running like hell was on his heels.

Your head was buried in your arms, forehead pressed tight against your knees as you tried to slow your breathing and force the sobs to stop. You’d told him how you felt, you’d told him you couldn’t do it anymore and he’d left without so much as a word. He must not want anything to do with you anymore.

The fresh wave of thoughts reduced you back to your sobs, your shoulders shaking. The force of your cries were so severe you didn’t hear the steps that were racing up the stairs. By the time you registered anyone was there, their arms were wrapped tight around you.

You caught a flash of red in your peripheral. “George? Did Fred tell you to come?”

“You daft girl, George told me to come,” Fred laughed through the few tears he’d begun to shed on the way to the tower. Never had he ever wanted to see one of his dearest friends look so vulnerable, yet you did and it was all because of him. Your gasping sobs as he’d come up the stairs had stopped him in his tracks for a moment and it sunk the stake in deeper that it was all because of him.

You recoiled slightly at his words but couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. If the only reason he was here was because of George, why was his voice thicker than usual? Had Fred been crying? You took a chance to look at him and found a tear rolling down his cheek and over his freckles. Momentarily, you forgot the situation you were in and you brought your hand to Fred’s cheek.

Concern burned in your eyes and Fred could feel his stomach doing flips. You’d been crying over him, you were crying over him, but once you saw he was in any distress you’d completely forgotten it. At least for a second it seemed, his shocked expression bringing you back to reality as you let your hand fall away uncertainly.

“I- um- sorry...” You mumbled, going to stand. Fred finally saw the empty look George had told him of and it made his heart stop painfully.

Fred didn’t let you get far before he was pulling you into a hug, a few more tears escaped past his eyelids and fell onto your hair as he brought you closer to him, head nuzzling against yours. “Merlin, no,” He choked out. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for. I didn’t realize until you said... well- I didn’t realize you felt so used and I didn’t realize everything I said and did confirmed every fear you had.”

You froze in Fred’s grasp, even your sniffles having gone away.

“I don’t know a good way to say this,” Fred laughed weakly, hand pressed against the small of your back, his fingers twitching as he thought.

“I love snogging you until your eyes glaze over and you turn to putty in my hands, which I think I’ve made a bit too obviuos. I love your messy hair whether I’ve just finished running my hands through it or you’ve just woken up and stumbled into the Great hall. I love how you stifle your giggles when one of us has said something mean to the other but you still can’t help but laugh once everyone else gets going. I love that you see the best in people and that even when I treated you the worst you still look at me like I’ve only spilled ink on your paper instead of broken your heart,”

“Freddie-” You began but the boy shushed you and he took a second to fix you with pleading eyes. He needed to say this.

“I love that I can trust you just as much as I trust George, just as much as I trust Lee. I love that you always listen to me and you notice when something is wrong before I do. I love that you are patient with me even when I can be a complete arse, and I love that even now you are listening to me because I’ve asked you to. You should be kicking me and running in the opposite direction after all I’ve done but you’re still here and I love you for it.”

“But we’re just friends,” You finished for him, a rueful smile on your lips as you stared down at your feet. His arms were still warm around you but they tensed.

“Is that what you want?”

Your head snapped to his. The fragile wavering in his voice had stopped you cold. Since this started he had never asked what you wanted, at least emotionally, and now here he was asking you what you’d been begging internally to hear since the first time you’d kissed.

“W-well what do you want?” You mimicked to him. You had put your heart on the line too many times now and it was his turn.

“You,” He said simply, hand warm against your cheek as he stroked the skin on your cheekbone. The honey brown of his eyes shined brighter in the moonlight and you found for the first time you could see the truth in his eyes. “I want you to be mine,”

“Then you’ve got me,”

And this time when Fred Weasley, you felt a promise instead of a heartbreak.

The game was over and both of you had won.

Tag List: @stuckysdaughter @thehumanistsdiary @gaycatlord-stuff

Those who might be interested: @hogwarts-is-my-h0me @emcchi @elf-punk @mozz-are-lla @alyssa-lupin-weasley-salvatore

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred x reader #angst #fluff #who knew #that would be the last sentence #i only work in cliches #thnx

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