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painsandconfusion · 2 years

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Glowsticks

Round FIVE of bad baby Sand scribbles. We're getting into the pretentious first person trabic backstory era now

(tw: major character death, military/war mention)

I was born in the middle of a record breaking blizzard. I don’t know what that means, but some people think that it’s a sign that I will have a difficult life. I never really believed in these ‘signs’, nor did I ever take seriously the people who do believe in them. Either way, I never really had any reason to believe my bad luck was because I was born during a crisis. This is probably due to the fact that I never really had any bad luck during my childhood.

I grew up on a small farm in Nebraska. My parents had been married at a young age, while my mother was still in college. They had quickly bought a small farmhouse and built the place up one year at a time.

My family is made up of five people. There is me, Emma Mavric. My parents, Amy and Eli Mavric. And there’s Abigail and Olivia, my sisters. Abby and Olivia are twins born roughly fifteen years before me. I always liked my sisters, but they never really liked staying at home. I was barely getting into kindergarten when they moved out, to different colleges, and never really came back. They may be identical twins, but they couldn’t be more different.

When Abigail, the eldest, moved to Lincoln my parents were distraught at the thought of their daughter being so far away. It wasn’t long after that that Olivia decided to apply for an internship in Chicago. Suddenly Abigail’s decision seemed a lot better.

Either way, I never really knew them well. They may be my sisters, but they have been gone since I was a child, coming home only for the major holidays. I never really cared much for those holidays anyway, though. They always meant the family getting together. That meant that I had to pretend to be a perfect princess for at least two days. I had always preferred the lesser holidays. The ones most people don’t think about. On these days, I could celebrate and enjoy the festivities while being entirely myself. This was on account of one person. Emery.

Emery was my best friend for as can remember. He wasn’t a brother or a cousin, be we were as close as any brother and sister had ever been.

I still remember the summer days I spent with Emery. We were just kids. Young. Innocent. Without a care in the world. Every morning, we would wake up at 6:00 AM and Jump on our bikes with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches stuffed in our pockets. We would hop on our bikes and take off riding down the gravel roads, meeting in the middle of the timber in front of a huge oak tree that we had marked as ours. Emery lived less than a mile away by gravel, but only half a mile if you cut through the light timber, so we would meet in the middle. By the oak tree.

By the time we were thirteen years old, we thought we had the entire world figured out. I remember wanting to become a nurse. Emery wanted to be in the military. I never really understood that, but I suppose he never understood why I wanted to be a nurse. Even though I didn’t get why he wanted to go into the service, I respected his wishes. He had never been wrong before so I didn’t have much reason to doubt him. I was happy that he had found something he was passionate about.

I remember one July night. The Fourth of July to be exact. We were 15 years old and had driven to the lake with our new permits. With parents in the passenger seats of course. Every year, the fire station would put up a firework display over the lakeside. Emery and I would always hike up and into the trees that surrounded the water and watch the show from the dark canopy of leaves. Of course, the view wasn’t the best, but it was quieter there. There weren’t any people and both of us hated crowds. Besides, when we were in the trees, we couldn’t smell that horrible smoke that come off of the children's sparklers and fills the beach before the sun had even set.

There, hidden in the darkness, we could be ourselves. A rare occasion that only presented itself when Emery and I were together.

I sat down on the damp ground and leaned against a tree. Emery joined me.

“When do you think they will start setting them off?” I asked impatiently.

“Why? I thought you didn’t like fireworks.” He smirked.

I sighed. “Well as long as I’m here I might as well see them. Just because I don’t like them in general doesn’t mean they’re not pretty.”

“They will probably start the show once it’s dark.” He looked up through the gap in the leaves. “We probably have another ten minutes or so I would guess.”

“But it’s already dark.” I protested.

“The trees make it seem worse than it is.” He reached into the backpack he brought with him wherever he went. After rummaging around for a moment, he produced two boxes.

“Sparklers or glowsticks?” He asked, smiling.

I chuckled. “Aren’t we prepared?” I teased. “wouldn’t we light the forest on fire if we lit the sparklers here?”

He was still smiling. “No, I don’t think you can light anything on sparklers. They aren’t hot enough and the flame only burns for a second before moving on. It couldn’t set anything on fire.”

“Yes it could!”

“No it couldn’t “

“Could so.”

“Nope. Not a chance.”

“Okay then, why don’t we find out?” I suggested, challenging him.

His smile grew with the thought of proving me wrong. “You’re on.” Emery said. He started rummaging in his bag again to produce a package of matches. He shook one sparkler from the bag and held it out.

“You hold this Emma, I’ll light it.” I took the sparkler as he struck the match and held it to the tip, waiting for it to ignite. After a few moments of intense staring, the end of the stick began to spit millions of little sparks out.

“Alright. Watch this.” I said, holding the sparkler be the very tip of the wire. I knew it couldn’t burn me, but I had always been afraid of those little sparks. I reached down and picked up a dry leaf. I held the tip of it up to the spitting end of the sparkler and let the little spurts of fire dance around it.

“Nothing’s happening.” Emery teased. “I think I just won a bet.”

“Just wait a few seconds. It’ll burn. You just see.”

“Mmmmmmmhm…” He mused.

But I was right. A few seconds later, the edge of the leaf began to burn red and curl upon itself. There was no flame, but you would see the glowing red line slowly consume the dry tinder.

“Ha!” I exclaimed. “Told ya” I smirked at him. A smug grin.

“No way. There was no fire there. It just got really hot.”

“You didn’t say there had to be a flame you just said it wouldn’t burn! I’m totally right”

“Nu’uh. I said it wouldn’t burst into flame. You said it would.” He said, stealing my cocky grin.

“No! I said it would burn, dumbutt.”

“Whatever. If you can’t admit you’re wrong, I guess I’ll be the bigger man here.”

“Oh whatever!” I humphed. “You’re just a sore loser.”

Emery chuckled. “Whatever you say, your highness.”

I scrunched up my nose at him and stuck my tongue out; really an immature thing for a fifteen year old to do, but I couldn’t resist.

He chuckled and pulled out the glowsticks. “Glowstick?” He offered me the box.

I took one. I was hoping for a red, but it was almost impossible to see what color they were in the darkness. He grabbed one too and we sat there for a moment. I loved doing this. Especially in the dark. It made them even cooler. I grabbed onto the stick and bent it between my fingers until I heard the cracking sound of the crystals breaking inside the plastic. Luminous color spread from the spot and I kept rolling it between my hands until the entire length of it was bright and beautiful. The color was blue. I frowned a little, but blue isn’t a bad color so I didn’t feel the need to comment.

“You got blue too!” Emery said, looking down at his. “It’s a sign. These two glow sticks must be joined together.”

I chuckled and handed him mine. He took two plastic connectors out of the box and fixed the ends of the glow sticks together making a ring. He tossed the ring over my head. It appeared that I had a necklace now.

We spent the next five minutes silently cracking every single one of the glowsticks until none were left. As I was breaking the last one, I had a thought.

“Wow. It would suck to be a glowstick.” I pondered out loud. “Stuck in a box for the first part of your life, then people come along and bend you until you break, then you are thrown away that same day. That would be a crappy life.”

Emery looked at me in a strange way. I ignored it and bent the last glow stick into a bracelet and hooked it around his wrist. We sat in silence for a few minutes, leaning against the trees, feeling the moisture from the ground soak into our jeans. I waited for the fireworks to start. Emery started at the ground, thinking. After a while he broke the silence.

“You know what I think?” He said. “It’s okay to be a glow stick; sometimes we have to break before we shine.”

I looked at him and blinked a few times. I didn’t know how to respond to that. I opened my mouth to comments just as the first firework was set off. Emery’s somber focus was gone in an instant and he looked up at the sky smiling as the first of them lit the sky with golden flame.

“I guess you’re right” I whispered, but I don’t think he heard me over the excited screams from the spectators.

Once I got my licence, I drove myself to school every day. No more bus rides for me, and there was no way I was making Emery continue for the next month until he got his so I picked him up every day and we rode together. I had an old faded pickup that my grandpa had given me to use. It was in terrible condition, but its old frame gave it character, and personally, I thought it was kinda cute even though Emery laughed at it.

We never really had a lot of classes together in high school, but we always did our homework together. I would go to his house, or he would come to mine. My favorite spot to study when the weather was nice was a little spot behind the barn. Emery and I used to spread out our books and binders over the grass and lay on our stomachs to work. It was nice and quiet there, and not easy to become distracted. The only thing I was able to see was the cornfield that grew about twenty feet from the edge of the red barn, and the barn itself. It was like a little corner of solitude that always seemed to have a way of letting me relax.

Sometimes, Emery would decide to take a study break and mill around for a bit. This usually didn’t bother me until I felt kernels of corn hitting the back of my head like bullets. I would scurry up and try to dodge his attack. He would be standing against the side of the barn laughing at my desperation while kneading kernels of corn from the cob and chucking them at me. It didn’t really hurt, but I made a big deal out of it anyway.

Why? Because I could.

I would scream and run around while he chased me throwing handfuls of corn in my direction. Once his ammunition was gone, he would throw the inside of the cob at me and run away. Then it was my turn to chase him. I don’t know how many hours we spent studying there, but for some reason, I think that we probably spent longer throwing corn and running around like four year olds.

When we graduated high school, a lot of things scared me. I was so sure just a few years ago that I wanted to become a nurse and now I had applied to a state university as a business major. So many things were changing so fast and Emery was definitely the one who helped me through them. He would calm me down during mental breakdowns and he was the one who made sure I signed up for enough scholarships. He even filled out a few for me. He said it was only fair. He would have been doing scholarships too if he weren’t shipping off to boot camp in a few months. His college was free there.

Emery had been sure of his path from the moment he chose it. I was terrified of my future, but Emery looked forward to it. His eyes lit up every time he talked about the military. He explained to me in detail what he would be doing in boot camp and how he hoped to be able to fight in the war to save our country. I never understood this. I couldn’t grasp the concept of someone being excited about danger and treats. He had never shared any of my fears. It was just the kind of guy he was. He knew what he wanted and he knew that it might end badly. Somehow, I think this made him even more intrigued. Just like Emery. Always playing the hero.

I guess Emery was a good soldier because he was shipped out less than a year after going into training. I didn’t see him again after he left. Every once and a while I got a letter from him. It was always wrinkled and smudged as if it had been carried for a month before being sent. He talked about me mostly, he asked me questions and rehashed his memories of growing up. He never talked about his side or where he was. He never told me about the war or combat. I wanted to believe that was because he was totally safe sitting on the sidelines bored, but I knew it was because he didn’t want to talk about it. He was using me as an escape; a link to a more peaceful world. I would let him have that. But, after a few years, the letters stopped coming.

I got a call from his parents on the Fourth of July. They called every year to see if I wanted to go to the firework show with them. Of course I didn’t, but I went anyway. They missed their son and didn’t want to go alone. I wouldn't make them do that. But, that day was different.

I picked up the phone to hear a woman crying.

“Hello?” I asked breathlessly. The tears sent me into an instant state of panic. “What’s wrong?”

“We….we- had a visitor. An officer, Em-Emma.” She stuttered through her tears. I slid to the floor, clutching the phone to my ear, staring at the floor.

“What do you mean?” I whispered. I could barely make out the words I said. I wasn’t sure if she could.

“He b-br-brought us a flag.” She broke down into sobs again.

I stared at the floor and let the phone clatter to the ground. I felt a great pressure on my chest. Suddenly it was nearly impossible to breathe. Emery. My brother. No, more than a brother. I gasped for air and pulled my knees to my chest, trying to keep the world from spinning.

“My throat was burning before the first tears fell. At first my tears were silent, then they grew into sobs. I began to yell and scream at the window, fighting it. I wasn’t even sure what I was fighting, but it was definitely winning. I felt like my chest was ripped open and Every breath sent fire down into my lungs. Every time I closed my eyes, images of Emery flashed across my vision. I choked and sobbed, trying to breathe.

I don’t know how long I sat there. A few hours ago I must have gotten up because I am in my car now, flying down the highway with no idea what I’m doing. The tears have not stopped and my eyes are starting to swell shut. I roll down the window to try to breathe better, but the wind just burns my eyes so I roll it back up again. It’s strange. When I have this much liquid in my eyes, they shouldn’t be burning. It’s stupid.

I choke down another sob and turn onto a gravel road. The one leading to the lake. I don’t know why I seem to want to go there, and I don’t really care enough to think about it. I fly past the lake. It must be late. The sun is already starting to dip into the horizon and there are rows of people staked out along the beach. I drive until the gravel stops at the treeline. I kill the engine and stumble out of the truck, moving towards the trees.

I barely get inside the woods when I turn around and go back to the truck. I grab a Wal-Mart sack out of the backseat and shuffle into the trees. I trip my way through the woods. There is no path here and the thorns and bushes rip and tear at my skin, leaving thin line of blood. I don’t care. I keep moving. Tears keep streaming down my face as I try not to imagine how he died. There are so many possibilities in war. No matter what, I hope it was quick. I hope he didn’t suffer. He didn’t deserve that.

I finally trip on the uneven ground and fall harshly to the forest floor. I curse the ground and yell at it in some form of gibberish. there, I curl up into a ball and cry.

It is starting to get harder to cry. The tears aren’t coming anymore. I want to yell and scream, but I know I can’t or someone will hear me and come looking. I don’t want company.

I sit up and mop the wetness from my face with the back of my arm. It doesn’t help much. I grab the sack I had been carrying and tore through it to grab the box. I had gone shopping the week before in preparation. I had sent Emery a glow stick out of this box about a month ago. It was a blue one because those were his favorite. I was hoping he would get it. I had put in in my last letter and had explained that he could break it on the 4th of July and I would do the same. That way we could somehow be together like we always were before.

Suddenly I wonder what happened to the glowstick I sent him. Is it lying in some trench somewhere? Was it in his pocket during a car bombing? It it glowing on a road somewhere, crushed by jeeps and tanks? It didn’t matter.

I pulled two glow sticks from the box. One was red. The other blue.

I held them side by side and bent them so they cracked and flourished at the same time. I could hear Emery’s voice ringing through my memories.

Sometimes we need to break before we shine.

The tears I thought were depleted began to fall yet again. I cracked the sticks together until they were fully glowing, shining in the darkness side by side.

#major character death #military/war mention #baby sand scribbles

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sunjaesol · 3 years

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you're just my type

chenford | drabble | post-canon | title: my type // saint motel

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"Sienna Lee," Lucy recited, scrolling on her phone. "Twenty-nine, works at a marketing company and is thinking of getting a PhD."

Tim snorted. "In marketing?"

She rolled her eyes. "Snob."

"Not my type, moving on."

Tim should've known this was a bad idea. Hell, he did know, he just had a little problem denying Lucy Chen the joy of making fun of him, because in turn, that meant he got to tease her as well. Their whole dynamic got muddled the second she turned P2 and he had no control on it anymore — hence, this predicament. After Rachel's departure and Tim's visible apprehension to date anyone new, Lucy took to her role as matchmaker again.

Granted, she did make a good gamble with Rachel. They had a great relationship, albeit short, so Lucy wasn't completely ignorant about who'd fit him best. That should be concerning, as that meant that whoever he'd like was someone that resembled Lucy, but again: it was hard to say no to her.

As Los Angeles was on its best behaviour today, they had time to peruse the 'candidates', as Lucy put it. Tim felt twenty and stupid again.

"You haven't even seen a picture," she countered.

"And I'm the snob?" he smirked.

"Fine," she relented. "Persephone Miller."

"Jesus."

"Yeah, the name's a mouthful, but she's the heiress of a multinational and throws these, like, amazing beach parties."

Tim shot her an incredulous look. "How do you know her?"

"I arrested a guy that mugged her," she grinned, triumphant. The expression did something to him. "So, I got invited to a party."

Keeping his smile in check, he shook his head instead. "Not for me. Don't like beach parties—"

"Lies!"

"—and I don't... what? Lies?"

Lucy fervently nodded. "You don't hate beach parties. Remember Nolan's Fourth of July party? BBQ, volleybal, running with Kojo..." She trailed off, shrugging. "You had fun then."

"That's not a party," he argued, trying to find the right term. "It was, you know, a gathering. Close friends and family. Not LA socialites that all hate each other."

Also, the only reason he had more fun than he normally would, was because Lucy had been his volley partner, Lucy ran with Kojo, Lucy helped make killer burger. It all lead back to her, really. A conclusion that had been hard to accept, but he knew exactly how he felt about her. And why exactly he didn't like any of her dozen options.

They weren't her.

Her lips tutted. "Fair. Okay, Olivia Cirillo. Greek, extremely beautiful, thirty-four, a comparative literature professor at USC." Her brows wiggled. "A total catch. And I know for a fact she's into blondes."

"Again," he pressed, perplexed. "How do you know all these women?"

"We were friends in college," she smiled. "She was a couple years ahead, obviously, but we had a great talk about Beckett at a frat party once."

Now he couldn't keep the smile off his face. A more 'Lucy'-sentence she couldn't have uttered. "Of course."

Then he sighed. Another friend of Chen? Did she have an entire harem of beautiful, intelligent friends that would sweep him off his feet for a couple of months before his focus would inevitably divert to Lucy again?

She frowned and pocketed her phone. "What's wrong?"

Looking out his window, he gathered his thoughts and said, "This was a bad idea. You aren't a matchmaker, Chen, you're a police officer. Focus on your job, please."

"I... yeah. Okay." Her tone seemed downtrodden. "Sorry. You're right. And your love life is none of my business."

"Damn straight," he mumbled.

"It's just... I want to see you happy, Tim." Her earnest words caused him to look at her anyway, quietly embarrassed for his own surprised reaction. Of course she wanted that; they were close friends. "And I don't want you to give up on love just because of what happened with Isabelle and Rachel..."

"What happened with Isabelle isn't exactly light, Chen," he grumbled.

"I know," she rushed. "I know that. Still. That shouldn't be the perogative to just become a... I don't know, a Love Grinch."

That got him to chuckle. "Love Grinch?"

"You know what I mean!"

"Yeah. But don't worry about it, Chen." His eyes flickered across her face. "I'll find my person. One day."

She held his gaze for a moment, pensive, and slowly nodded, before putting all her focus in the radio spurring alive with a new case on their hands. Matchmaking was over.

Which was good. Ironically, doing his job calmed Tim down. He knew he was good at it. He went through the motions, was able to rely on his instincts and judgement and the fact that Lucy always got his six. Getting caught in a bar brawl was far easier than discussing feelings.

"Why do you always do that?!" Lucy exclaimed afterwards, angered by his rash decision to jump in the chaos. He stayed in the passenger seat while she went to grab the first aid kit from the trunk. Her yelling reached him regardless. "Do you know how scary it is when you voluntarily jump into a fight with drunk people like that? I could—"

"You could what?"

"I could write you up for impulsive behaviour," she cut, taking him by surprise. "Which I won't do," she added, "but please, Bradford, stop doing it. Communicate with me before you plan on losing an eye and a leg."

"Just those two, huh?" he said, trying to alleviate the mood.

The trunk slammed shut and Lucy reappeared by his door, promptly dumping the kit on his lap and then sifting through it to find the right supplies. Biting his tongue, he holds back the comment that she was overreacting. A man wouldn't die over some cuts and bruises and a soon-visible shiner on his left eye. But he knew it'd be fruitless discourse. When Lucy decided to care, she cared.

"Not to bring it up again, but you need to be alive if you want to be in a relationship," she mumbled, disinfecting the cuts.

"They're not my type, Chen," he sighed. His eyes clung to her ministrations, feeling awfully young between her soft palms, and hazy with her perfume lingering in his nose.

"None of them? Not even Olivia?"

"I'm sure she's great, but no."

They stayed quiet after that. Finished, she put everything back in its rightful place and sat in the passenger's seat. Their shift was done by now. He found they frequently caught themselves in familiarised situations like this, where he hardly remembered the daily cases and rather their sprawling conversations, to the point where he couldn't remember if some memories were just his, or hers.

He repeatedly wondered if his admiration for Lucy had simply translated to love. But if so, when? When she got abducted? When their prank wars brought a goofy smile to his face? When she wore that dress at Wes and Angela's infamous wedding? He couldn't recall. Tim felt ripped off his axis by the gravitational Lucy Chen and there was nothing he could do about it.

"What about you?" he asked.

As it had been silent for a while, she didn't instantly react. "Huh?"

"Why're you not matchmaking yourself?" He eyed her from across the console, wary, and out of his depth when asking such questions.

Her brows raised. "Uh... because Emmett was an asshole and before that I got abducted by a psychopathic man, so."

"Fair."

"Maybe we should date someone with equal amount of baggage," Lucy joked, "so it balances it out."

Tim puffed, amused. "You think that would work?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Her tone had a hopeful tinge to it, making his heart warm and twist up like baby Jackson's Play-Doh, though unsure if the implied was, well, implied.

"Maybe," he hummed.

"Let's make a deal!" She suddenly perked up and twisted in her seat. "If by the time I'm forty and you're forty-nine, we're both still single—"

"—Chen—"

"—we'll live together. Like a cool, hipster, co-habitation situation." Her signature smile flashed in the fading sunlight bleeding through the car windows. "What do you say?"

"I'm saying you're insane."

"C'mon, Tim!" she groaned, head lolling back. "Just go with it!"

Rolling his eyes, he let a small grin bloom on his cheeks and then nodded. What the hell, he thought, by then Lucy would've found her match and the deal would be off. How could she not? She was Lucy.

"Alright," he drawled, grabbing her hand from across the console to firmly shake it. "You got yourself a deal."

Their hands stayed together a beat longer than necessary, fingers slowly gliding apart 'til they awkwardly rested back in their respective spaces. Their faces turned shyer. An odd deal to make, but he once more couldn't refuse her.

"This deal doesn't leave the car, Chen."

"You got it, Bradford."

#chenford #the rookie fanfiction #the rookie #otp: save me a dance

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butterfly-buck · 3 years

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Parent Guidance Recommended

word count: 3,281

focus characters: Pacifica Northwest, Fiddleford H. McGucket

warnings: child neglect, implications of alcoholism, implications of infidelity, mugging, knives, threatening, generally awful people

summary: On the worst birthday she’s ever had, Pacifica finds herself seeking support from a source she’d least expect; the new owner of the once-Northwest Manor, her own former home.

Pacifica was turning fourteen on the Fourth of July. A perfect birthday. Perfect girl. Perfect family.

Her parents would throw a party. Like any Northwest party, with gorgeous, itchy lace ball gowns and impeccable etiquette, each word in every conversation spoken with flawless flow, with purposeful posture and respect-demanding mannerisms. A perfect party for perfect people, with perfect food prepared.

After claiming her designated ruby-studded chair at the dinner table, she would be shocked when her plate was revealed to her. Deep-fried Roareos. Stacked in a small sweet-powdered delicious heap in front of her, chocolately, cream-filled cookies, dipped in batter and deep-fried to perfection. Sugary. Messy. Pacifica had never had it before. How did her parents know she wanted to try it?

She turned her head to cast a quizzical look to her parents, who’d been watching her, holding each other with loving smiles directed at her. A warm feeling spread inside her like warm butter. She reached for a fork.. but hesitated, and hovered her hand over the plate instead. She casted another glance at her parents to see their reaction. No cold response was elicited so far. In fact, she could have sworn her father nodded in approval.

She delicately picked one of the cookies up with her thumb and forefinger, and raised it to her lips to nibble at it. Her senses were flooded with warm, sweet goodness. Just as amazing as she imagined. She stuffed the rest in her mouth, going so far as to lick her fingers. Her lips were coated with melted cream. She neglected the napkins beside her plate to instead lick the sugar mixture from her lips. Barbaric. But her parents didn’t seem to mind either of the actions. She thought she even heard an amused giggle from her mother.

“Sweetie, would you like your presents now or after you’re finished?” Priscilla— no, this was Mom— asked. Pacifica paused. She had a say? Were they not on a schedule? She supposed if she was given the option, she would love to open gifts while she snacked on the rest of the Roareos.

“Now, please,” the young blond girl responded. On cue, one of the butlers was beside her, placing a neatly-packaged gift box on her lap. A beautiful purple silk ribbon sat on top, holding it together. She couldn’t recall the last time she felt so eager to reveal its contents.

What was inside? Some comfy clothes? Paint, perhaps? A cute animal plush that would contrast the creepy porcelain dolls in her room? The possibilities were endless.

Delightfully, she tugged at it. The box opened. As she peered inside, her excitement dissolved. The warm feeling turned to ice.

The bell. The one her father carried on his person at all times. The one that willed his command in the mansion. The one Pacifica hated. Suddenly Preston was standing over her, slowly picking the bronze item up.

Loving smile gone, replaced with a disapproving, even disgusted scowl. She shrank in her seat.

“Pacifica Elise Northwest,” he boomed. “So it’s true. You’re mingling with the common, ignoble crowds these days.”

“No!” she found herself crying out. “It’s not like that! I have to!”

“Have to what? Work a lowly job as a waitress in that slobbish cesspit? At that- that disgusting, sorry excuse for a dining destination? THAT’S NOT ACCEPTABLE EVER. How can you call yourself a Northwest? How can you call yourself our daughter?”

The very first thought she woke up to was that it was too good to be real.

Tangled in her sheets, warm tears trickling down her cheeks. She sniffled and quickly wiped them away before slipping out of bed.

The house was dark. Silent. The clock on the wall read 7:52. Her parents’ bedroom was empty as she passed. It smelled of wine. They would not be back for a while. Pacifica found herself releasing a sigh, her tension easing a little, even if that meant she’d be spending her birthday alone for the very first time. She leaned against the doorframe and closed her eyes, trying to recall the good part of the dream, trying to revive the taste of the sugary treat, but it was gone. Soured by the unreality of it. All it was doing was making her hungry belly ache.

When checking the refrigerator, cabinets and pantry and coming to the realization that all that was left was a loaf of bread, a half-empty tube of Bringles and a couple dinner kits. No breakfast food. Not even a single egg. Not even leftovers. Something like despair and disappointment blossomed inside her. She would have to eat at the diner again…

She snagged her wallet from the counter only to find her twenty had disappeared, leaving only a couple measly ones and fives and whatever coins were loose inside. She felt the tears building a little again and slapped the wallet shut to try to stifle them. There was a time she had nearly everything, but now after Weirdmaggedon, she couldn’t even trust that her own hard-earned cash wouldn’t be snagged if left around her own greedy birthgivers. Her strength was being sapped by the will not to burst into a sobbing fit. There was enough in there to cover breakfast at work when she got to Greasy’s, at least.

With her belly still growling, she changed out of her nightwear, threw on her apron and a pair of aviators and began the walk to work.

The day was a bright one, sunny and a little breezy. A pleasant temperature. It did not reflect how Pacifica felt. Despite the summer weather, she pulled her scarf over her head, casting shade over her face. The neighborhood streets were mostly void of people, every house gated off. Just because they lost the mansion did not mean the Northwests were living in squalor, but her spending money was strictly monitored. Her parents now enforced that any money she spent, she’d have to earn. A fourteen year old. A child. Just so her birthgivers could ensure a few extra dollars in their account.

Pacifica couldn’t help but feel the fanciness of the neighborhood was almost deceitful. Her own household was a prime example. Her own rumbling tummy was a prime example. She wondered if there were others who lived in these houses that had similar problems as hers. Unlikely here.. however there were definitely others, people who’d been pushed to extremes just to get by.

Whether that was the reason behind why Pacifica soon found herself being followed halfway through the trip, she didn’t know. The feeling of being watched intensified by the minute, and glances into the reflections of shop windows told her there was a person. They refused to let up for at least a couple of blocks, the likelihood that they were just going the same direction by chance was steadily decreasing. They probably saw her leaving the wealthier neighborhood. The young girl picked up her pace. It did her no good.

The next moments were a blur. Her arm was snatched. When she struggled, a slice put a stop to it. Her arm began to bleed. Something sharp pressed to her throat, stiffening every muscle in her body. Vulgar language was hurled at her, demanding cooperation before her purse was yanked from her shoulder, and she was thrown to the curb. She was left winded, bruised, panicked and hyperventilating. She struggled for her breath back.

Mugged. She’d been mugged for the few measly dollars she had on her. And the fact that her first thought after all that was concern for what her parents would think that she let those precious dollars be nicked in the first place.. it only increased her distraught. Her breaths hastened more and more, and she didn’t realize her tears had finally started to flow until she was already sprinting down the street, her vision muddled. Every step felt like thunder to her ears. Home. She just wanted to go home. Maybe she couldn’t be herself as much, and maybe she was always busy, under constant supervision. But at least there was stability. At least there was certainty of the future. At least it was comfortable, at least there was always food on the table, breakfast, lunch and dinner. At least her father never stumbled around reeking of alcohol while only Lord knew where her mother was. Maybe her parents weren’t the best to other people but at least she could be certain they were true to each other. At least she could pretend everything was fine.

Pacifica wasn’t sure how far she’d gone. She was sweaty, she felt gross and sticky. Her legs were sore, threatening to give out if she went any further. She was still bleeding. She ached everywhere. But she’d reached her destination. She stood at the bottom of a familiar, long driveway, and at the top, sitting on a large hill, towering over the town stood the proud family mansion. Waves of nostalgia and sorrow crashed over her. Everything felt so gross. Every memory tainted by the knowledge of her parents’ true nature. She couldn’t even speak to anyone, not even her parents. Who would listen to a rich brat whine about how she used to be richer? Certainly not any of the townsfolk.

She found herself staring at the manor for a while, not entirely sure what to do.

“...What am I doing here…?” Pacifica whispered, sniffling and reaching for the tissues she kept in her purse, only to be hit with the whirlwind of events that had just happened again. Her arm stung. She could barely hold herself upright. She felt so… so tired. She meekly wiped her nose on her sleeve, and started to turn around when suddenly she bumped into someone.

“Wo-ah there, kiddo, careful, better watch where ya—” a cheerful voice piped, before cutting itself off when the sight of Pacifica in her disheveled state registered. “Huh? Hey.. Ah’ know you.”

Color drained from Pacifica’s cheeks. This guy again.. Why was he here? She quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks as she tried a witty remark, but — “Y-y-ea-h, well-, wh-o w-ou-uldn’-t-” — ultimately failing when her quivering body wouldn’t stop heaving sobs. Again she sniffled. Disgusting. In front of the hillbilly too.

McGucket’s face morphed into something like sympathy. He kneeled down to her height. “Ah- hey, what’s goin’ on kiddo? Are ya alright?”

Pacifica parted her lips. She wanted to say yes. Her instincts screamed at her to say yes. She could practically hear her birthgivers demanding her to say yes. She had to be perfect. She had to be flawless. She had to be stoic, proud, happy, for her family.

But that’s not what came out.

“n-NO!” she cried, her knees finally buckling as if the years of abuse weighing down on her shoulders finally came crashing down on top of her. Her face buried in her hands, sobbing violently into them. She wasn’t okay, she wasn’t okay, she wasn’t okay. Wails and cries escaped. She couldn’t stop the tears anymore. She was in so much pain, she was so alone. The sobs wouldn’t stop. The raging storm of emotion only continued to demolish her walls, clawing at her pride and self esteem. Everything she pretended to be crashed and burned at that moment.

Fiddleford had been a little stunned by the sudden breakdown, but he started to piece the situation together from the bits and pieces the poor girl was babbling. He didn’t get up and walk away like Pacifica was expecting him to. He stayed put, even placed his hand on her shoulder to try to console her. When she didn’t flinch away from him, the old man started rubbing circles on her back as she cried and cried. Fiddleford never was the best at comfort.. though he could only imagine how long this outburst had been bottled up, and he thought it best that Pacifica let it all out before trying to say anything.

It was a while before Pacifica’s sobs began to calm enough to allow her to speak in more coherent sentences. The story became clearer. She spoke about how her parents had mistreated her, like she was an accessory rather than a human being, a literal child. How things had been getting worse this past year since they were forced to move due to her father’s irresponsible stock market decisions during Weirdmaggedon, to preserve what fortune they had left. How she felt more at home at the diner than she ever did at her own residence. How she hardly saw her parents anymore. How everything had changed for the worst. The way her parents had become about money, even how they scolded her for ‘nagging’ about her birthday the previous day, when it had been the first time she brought it up in half a year. It all hurt terribly to speak of but Pacifica couldn’t help but notice the sudden weightless feeling after getting everything out. She was surprised to find Old Man McGucket was still listening.

“Y’know,” he spoke finally, “Ah knew a fella once who thought ‘e had everythin’ before ‘e lost it all too. ‘Should’a been there for ‘im like he needed.”

Pacifica was quiet for a moment. “..W..ho was he?”

Fiddleford only waved his hand. “Ol’ college buddy. Doin’ mighty fine these days. Now whaddya say we get off’a the street an’ patch up that lil’ ol’ scratch a’ yours inside?”

It tooka moment to register the question through his southern accent, but when she did, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “..I- inside..?”

Inside the mansion. Pacifica almost couldn’t believe it. Old Man McGucket was the one that bought the Northwest Manor. She wondered how on earth a former homeless man was possibly able to afford such a grand purchase, until peeks into a couple rooms along the hallway that had been filled with computers and strange machinery told her she didn’t know nearly as much about McGucket as she previously thought.

It was so strange walking through the hallways again. Everything was the same, but different. Was the grand rustic architecture and furniture always so beautiful? And… were those.. raccoons she was spotting out of the corner of her eyes?

McGucket led her to a room with a couch- a familiar silver-themed room with a certain carpet pattern. It looked nearly the same, except for the banjo leaning against the couch’s armrest, and maybe a few more stains than its previous flawless condition “for guests- that is, for guests to look at”. Despite her emotional state, she found herself smiling at the memory of her adventures with Dipper Pines, trying to bust that ghost… until she recalled the punishment her parents had made for her after that was all over. She began to feel a little sick. Her gaze dropped to the floor as McGucket trudged into the room, plopped onto the couch and patted the cushions beside him. Hesitantly, she followed him and did as gestured. It was.. weird to be back. She wiped her eyes again.

“How’d that’a happen?”

“..What?” the question hit her like a slap.

“The cut.” He gestured to the bleeding injury with a bandaged hand.

“...Oh.” Again, her gaze dropped. Her eyes began to mist again before she shut them. “..I-I.. I was.. um.. mugged on the way here… They stole my favorite purse…” Shame burned at her belly. She didn’t see any sign of judgement in McGucket’s reaction, though. He didn’t ask why she let that happen, or why she wasn’t responsible enough to bring someone with her. There was only concern for her.

“Oh.. ‘Ahm sorry that’a happened. Gravity Falls’s usually safe.. er- ah..” The old man scratched the back of his head. “‘least, it’s not the people ya gotta usually worry ‘bout.”

“Heh.. yeah..” Shrugging, the old man pulled out a full-blown first aid kid, temporarily baffling Pacifica for a moment. “Wai- were you just carrying that—?”

The question went without a response as McGucket went straight to disinfecting the cut. “‘Doesn’t look terri-bubly deep,” he piped. “Should’a stopped bleeding by now but we’ll patch it up ta’ keep it safe while it’s a-healin’.”

“Wait.. how do you know how to do this..?” Pacifica asked, furrowing her eyebrows a little. The old man gave her a cheery grin.

“Well, ‘gotta pick up somethin’ ‘bout it after livin’ in the dump buildin’ evil whatsits and thingamajigs outta rusty metal for a couple’a decades.”

..Oh. Well, that would make sense, she supposed.. Briefly, the question as to why he was being so nice to her after the way she and her family treated him crossed her mind. She wondered if that friend he mentioned had something to do with it… Suddenly she found herself wishing she’d paid closer attention to the details of the relationships between the other people involved in the zodiac. She guessed it could be that hotter Mr. Pines (or.. Dr. Pines?), she recalled seeing some kind of emotional exchange between him and McGucket during Weirdmaggedon.

Occupied with her thoughts, she hardly realized McGucket had completely finished with the bandage until he announced it.

“Done!” he cheered, stuffing the first aid kit back into the oblivion from which it came. Weird. More Gravity Falls weirdness. “...Thanks.”

“Anytime, sweetie. Y’always got’a listenin’ ear right here if ya’ need it.”

Pacifica gave him a small, grateful smile. The old man would never know what that meant to her.

“I.. I don’t know..” she sighed softly. “Today was just… awful… It’s the first birthday I’ll be spending alone, and I guess it’s… getting to me…”

“Yer birthday’s today?? Ah, Ah’m sorry, sugerbun,” McGucket spoke. “Awful break, goin’ through somethin’ like a’this on’a birthday mornin’. Say, ya always got a place right ‘ere if ya need. Plenty a’ empty bedrooms.”

Pacifica raised her head. “...R...Really..?”

McGucket beamed. “Why sure! Ya remind me a’ my lil’ Tator Tot, Ah’ miss ‘em somethin’ terrible. It gets a lil’ lonely in this ‘ere big ol’ mansion sometimes and ah wouldn’t mind a visit from some young folk from a’time ta’ time.”

She could… she could visit. Whenever she wanted? Her old home, without her parents around. McGucket was that okay with her? Even going so far as to compare her to (presumably) his own kid? That was… incredible. Before thinking it through, she threw her arms around the old man, chorusing her ‘thank you’s with a bubble of laughter. Though startled, Fiddleford slowly returned the hug with a warm smile.

He stank quite a bit. Pacifica recoiled a little at the realization of what she was doing. Ew. What would people think of her if they caught her doing something so unthinkable? Willingly embracing this stinky old man who…. gave incredible hugs.. Her concern suddenly dissolved. In its stead, a certain safety appeared, and she melted into it a little more. It was the same feeling she craved in her dreams. Dirt didn’t matter at all anymore. The feeling of a parental embrace shielding her from the unpleasantness of the world was all she could bring herself to care about at that moment. It felt so warm… Before she knew it, she was tearing up again.

“...Thank you, McGucket..”

“Heheh, anytime, sugarbun. Say, since it is yer birthday, whaddya say we hit th’ town an’ find somethin’ ta’ cheer ya up?”

Pacifica wiped her eyes with her palm. What an offer... To think a year ago she would never had even considered walking around with the old kook as a possible option, but.. She found herself looking forward to it. “I… I would love that.”

[Part 1 of ??? possibly 2??]

#this totally isn’t a vent piece for the nightmares i keep waking up from skdhkdbd #i’ll prolly write the second part. soon #my writing #gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls fic #pacifica northwest #gravity falls pacifica #fiddleford mcgucket #gravity falls mcgucket #found family #angst with a happy ending #comfort

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astrognossienne · 3 years

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tragic icon: john lennon - an analysis

“Everybody loves you when you’re six feet in the ground.” - John Lennon

Well, not everybody. As founder and one-fourth of arguably the greatest band of all time, The Beatles, much has been said and dissected and analyzed about the man from the many who were fascinated by, adored, idolized, and worshiped him. Often called “the thinking man’s Beatle”, his talent was and still is undeniable and his place in music history is set in stone. His songs, whether he co-wrote them in his iconic partnership with his friend Paul McCartney, or whether he was solo, have been much-admired and covered, not least of all that old vain, vapid and mawkish chestnut that everyone likes to break out in times of social trouble and crisis: “Imagine”. His platitudes for peace and love, however trite, nonetheless struck a major chord with millions. His legend naturally increased after his untimely murder and he instantly became canonized by the masses as some type of martyr. The death of a Beatle turned washed-up house husband made the world stand still. His last album became a hit, a funereal fervour helped it sell three million copies in the US alone; it was #1 in more than a dozen countries and went on to win the 1981 Grammy Award for Album Of The Year. We all seem to need heroes, and some people seem to need to be admired in that way. However, when we elevate people to that status we are often not doing them any favours; nobody can stand that level of scrutiny. Maybe he shouldn’t be sentimentalized anyway – he doesn’t deserve it and he would have hated it. At any rate, he’s not the demigod that many make him out to be; he was just a man, and a deeply flawed one, at that. The fact is that very few of us actually knew the man personally, so nearly all of us, including myself, are basing our opinions on hearsay. However, I'm not overly fond of John Lennon. As such, I’ll keep this analysis brief.

John Lennon, according to astrotheme, was a Libra sun and Aquarius moon. Lennon was born during a German air-raid over Liverpool, England. His father, Alfred “Alf” Lennon, was a merchant seaman, who deserted his wife Julia (nee Stanley) and their infant child. As Alf was often away at sea, Julia started going out to dance halls. In 1942, she met a Welsh soldier named “Taffy” Williams. By 1944, Julia was pregnant with Williams' baby, and Williams refused to live with Julia—who was still married to Alf—until she gave up John, which she refused to do. She gave birth to a daughter, Victoria Elizabeth, on 19 June 1945, and was subsequently given up for adoption to a Norwegian Salvation Army Captain and his wife (Peder and Margaret Pedersen) after intense pressure from her family. Julia soon met another man, John Dykins, and after numerous criticisms from the Stanley family about their (still-married) daughter 'living in sin' with Dykins as well as considerable pressure from her sister Mimi—Mimi threatened to call Social Services unless John was handed over to her care—Julia reluctantly sent John to live with Mimi and her husband George. In July 1946, Alf visited Mimi's house and took John to Blackpool for a long holiday, but he was secretly intending to emigrate to New Zealand with him. Julia and Dykins found out and followed them to Blackpool.

Alf asked Julia to go with them both to New Zealand, but she refused. Lennon's parents agreed that Julia should take him and give him a home as Alf left again. Julia took John back to her house and enrolled him in a local school, but after a few weeks she handed him back to Mimi. Various reasons have been suggested for Julia’s decision, such as Dykins' unwillingness to raise the young boy, Julia's inability to cope with the responsibility, or a punishment forced on her by Mimi and her father for "living in sin". Whatever the reason, John lived with his Aunt Mimi and her husband, George Smith, until his late teens. He was drawn to music at an early age. It was George Smith who gave John his first harmonica. As a child, Lennon was a prankster and he enjoyed getting into trouble. His mother visited him on a regular basis and bought him his first acoustic guitar in 1956. She was known as being high-spirited and impulsive, musical, and having a strong sense of humour. She taught her son how to play the banjo and ukulele. Deeply inspired by Elvis Presley, he had formed a skiffle group called the Quarrymen in 1957. He met Paul McCartney at a church fete in 1957 and asked him to join the group. The group underwent several name changes and lost original band members Pete Shotton and Eric Griffiths. While he was attending high school, an off-duty police officer knocked down and killed Lennon's mother in 1958.

His mother's death traumatized the teenage Lennon and, for the next two years, he drank heavily and frequently got into fights, consumed by a "blind rage". He was a troublemaker at school and failed all his examinations. Despite his academic shortcomings, he was accepted into the Liverpool College of Art and soon gained a reputation for disrupting classes and for being undisciplined. He failed his exam and was thrown out of the college. As a boy and young adult, he enjoyed drawing grotesque figures and cripples. Lennon’s schoolmaster thought that he could go to an art school for college since he did not get good grades in school but had artistic talent. With the addition of Paul McCartney, George Harrison, his good friend Stu Sutcliffe, and Pete Best, the Beatles were formed, although the band had not yet gelled. Sutcliffe died of a brain tumor in 1962, and Pete Best was later replaced by Richard Starkey, also known as Ringo Starr. The band played clubs in Hamburg as well as The Cavern in Liverpool. They were discovered by Brian Epstein, a record store manager, who succeeded in getting the Beatles an audition with George Martin, a producer at Parlaphone records. Epstein became their manager and cleaned up the group, replacing their black leather jackets with suits. Shortly after the Beatles’ success, after hearing about the fact that he had a sister, John was so overcome by emotion that he placed an ad in the paper, and hired detectives to look for her. They searched Norway for Victoria, and came up empty handed, and John died never having found or met her. Her adoptive name is Ingrid Pedersen. Later in life, Pedersen said she had kept her identity a secret for the sake of her adoptive parents; upon their death, she expressed interest in finding her “real family”, wanting to meet John’s sons. He married girlfriend Cynthia Powell in 1962.

In March 1966, during an interview, Lennon remarked,

"Christianity will go. It will vanish and shrink...we're more popular than Jesus now–I don't know which will go first, rock and roll or Christianity."

The comment went virtually unnoticed in England but, typically, caused great offense in America when quoted by a magazine there five months later. The furore that followed, which included the burning of Beatles records, Ku Klux Klan activity and threats against Lennon, contributed to the band's decision to stop touring. The Beatles then suffered a huge blow when Epstein died of an accidental overdose of sleeping pills on August 27, 1967. Their next effort, Apple Corps Ltd., was plagued by mismanagement. In November 1968, the Beatles' double-album The Beatles (also known as The White Album) displayed their divergent directions. By this time, Lennon's artist partnership with soon-to-be second wife Yoko Ono had begun to cause serious tensions within the group. Lennon and Ono invented a form of peace protest by staying in bed while being filmed and interviewed, and their single "Give Peace a Chance" (1969), recorded under the name "the Plastic Ono Band," became a national anthem of sorts for pacifists. Shortly after, the Beatles broke up.

In 1970, Lennon and Ono went through primal therapy in Los Angeles, which was designed to release emotional pain from early childhood. Lennon and Ono moved to New York in August 1971 and immediately embraced radical left political causes. While Lennon was recording Mind Games in 1973, he and Ono decided to separate. He and Ono were reunited shortly afterwards. On 9 October 1975 (Lennon's thirty-fifth birthday), Yoko gave birth to his other son Sean. Lennon began what would be a five-year hiatus from the music industry, during which time, he took on the role of househusband. Lennon emerged from his five-year interruption in music recording in October 1980, when he released the single "(Just Like) Starting Over". Two months later, on December 8, 1980, Lennon autographed a copy of Double Fantasy for deranged fan Mark David Chapman before leaving his home (The Dakota) with Ono for a recording session at the Record Plant to record what would be his last album, Double Fantasy. After the session, Lennon and Ono returned to their Manhattan apartment in a limousine about an hour before midnight. They exited the vehicle and walked through the archway of the building when Chapman shot Lennon twice in the back and twice in the shoulder at close range. Lennon was rushed in a police cruiser to the emergency room of Roosevelt Hospital, where he was pronounced dead on arrival. His remains were cremated; Ono scattered his ashes in New York's Central Park, where the Strawberry Fields memorial was later created. Chapman pleaded guilty to second-degree murder and was sentenced to 20-years-to-life. Chapman, who has been denied parole six times, says today that John would have forgiven him for shooting him.

Next, it’s only right I focus on his better half; the much-maligned Japanese artist who captured his imagination as well as his heart: Aquarius Yoko Ono.

STATS

birthdate: October 9, 1940

major planets:

Sun: Libra

Moon: Aquarius

Rising: Aries

Mercury: Scorpio

Venus: Virgo

Mars: Libra

Midheaven: Capricorn

Jupiter: Taurus

Saturn: Taurus

Uranus: Taurus

Neptune: Virgo

Pluto: Leo

Overall personality snapshot: He was a reasonable and idealistic person. For him, problems and dilemmas are things that can be resolved by reason, discussion and, at the last resort, by law. Although society, elevated principles, and social institutions mattered to him, perhaps even more than the individual people who go to make them up and run them, for him it was vital that he lived the principles that he held in such high esteem. This made him something of a visionary and prone to set himself up for disappointment, for nobody – including himself – could be as ideal as he would like. Equality, liberty, fraternity was probably his credo, and no matter how impractical he might have been, his friends always gleaned the good intentions that inform his actions and behaviour. Although he could be charming, magnetic and witty, he willingly brought up contentious subjects and spoke his mind with a kind of serene frankness.

He looked at all sides of any issue, and he brought a lively interest and enviable clarity to all social interchange. Even when he had strong views, he did not really want to rock the boat too much, and this made him an ideal diplomat. Friendships were enormously important to him, yet because he hated upsetting anyone, he found it difficult to be friends with anyone with whom he could not be totally frank and open. The challenge he faced again and again is how to keep the harmony and connectedness, without sacrificing his autonomy. Because he was such an equable, rational person, he easily felt threatened by powerful emotions such as hate and jealousy. They felt like enemies of the intelligent world order he sought, and yet paradoxically he was often attracted to emotional types. Emotions tended to play hide-and-seek with him, pulling him into a merry chase that feels both exhilarating and frustrating. Emotional intrigue actually fascinated him, and he allowed it to feed his instinct for self-dramatization. Whilst all the while pretending to figure out why someone could behave so irrationally, he was really getting a buzz and, if inclined towards the literary arts, planning his next plot.

He had a sturdy, muscular frame with a lively, attractive energetic face. He had intense and direct eye contact with others, and may well have been told off for staring at people as a child because of this. He was probably of medium height and could show amazing feats of strength when necessary. He met life in a straightforward and energetic manner. He often expressed himself through dramatic outbursts, many times in anger or even other forms of self-destructive behaviour. He held a lot of hidden rage and passion within him, which had to be released. He followed his instincts and beliefs with great dedication, but few people really knew what he was up to until after his demise. This is because he liked to keep his motivations a secret. He needed his career to be strong, solid and enduring. He knew that he must work hard to achieve the status and respect that he desired, and although there may well have been obstacles in his path, his dedication and step-by-step progress led to success. When dealing with colleagues, he could place strong demands on them. He was a person who wanted a first-class life-style, and who treasured his possessions. He needed to be able to feel materially secure, and he probably gained wealth through sheer industry, because he was patient, steady and confident in this area of his life. However, he may also have been a little too trusting when it came to money, presuming too easily that there was always more where it came from. His acquired wealth may be generously distributed, both on himself, for he was self-indulgent, and on others, because he was vulnerable to sob stories.

Although he was an extremely creative person, he wasn’t as impressed by beauty as other people were. He could be quite stubborn and conservative in his outlook. His physical and practical affairs may have brought his many difficulties and challenges, and there were likely financial delays in the working side of his life. As a worker, he was methodical, controlled and very efficient. Although he tended to be reserved and suspicious in emotional relationships, once he felt sure that he was loved, there was little that he wouldn’t do for his partner. He belonged to a determined, practical and stubborn generation that was interested in finding out new and different ways to organize things. As a member of the Taurus Uranus generation, he also found it difficult to accept change and disruptions in his life, unless he fully understood and agreed with the reasons why. When he did take the plunge, he did so in an all or nothing way. As part of the Virgo Neptune generation, he had a practical and materialistic frame of mind, which was critical of standards of religion and government. Members of this generation tried to restore order where chaos and injustice ruled, although sometimes their aims and objectives were misunderstood. He preferred to gain fame as a solo performer than by working as part of a team. As a Leo Plutonian, he wanted freedom in his relationships and demanded the loyalty of his friends as a right. This generation was egotistical, but they also had the will to win. As a member of this generation, he wanted power over his own life and was prepared to challenge established structures. This generation brought about a revolution in forms of entertainment, recreational activities and leisure time, as well as attitudes towards children, as is evidenced in the disparity of his treatment toward his sons Julian and Sean.

Love/sex life: He wanted sex to be real, tangible, and easily accessible. For this reason he was prone to divide his sexual contacts between those that served his physical needs and those that involved his search for the perfect relationship. His approach to the former was practical and matter-of-fact while he would look to the latter with dreamy fascination. This dual approach certainly did not make sense to everyone. Many people, including some potential partners, were apt to call him insensitive, along with a few other, less printable names. His attitude toward sex was essentially passive and downright lazy. Whether he was looking for love or just a good time he was easily led, emotionally lazy, and sometimes opportunistic. This lack of initiative made it difficult for him to find the perfect love that was always his utmost goal. Relationships of this sort require great energy and determination and there was a part of him that would always balk at such extraordinary effort. But if he was lucky enough to find a partner who was willing to do most or even all the work for him, he could be a lover well worth keeping. Many Beatles fans objected when Lennon paired himself with the strong-willed Yoko Ono but Ono was just the Mars in Libra ideal Lennon needed and she was willing to take control of the relationship.

minor asteroids and points:

North Node: Libra

Lilith: Pisces

Vertex: Libra

Fortune: Capricorn

East Point: Aries

His North Node in Libra dictated that he needed to move away from a tendency to see the world only in terms of himself, and develop a more outward-looking view. It would have been good if he took other people’s needs and desires into consideration to a greater degree. His Lilith in Pisces was a powerful muse in his life as an innovative male thinker; he was dangerously attracted to women who were natural born mystics and cultivated their own myth. His Vertex in Libra, 6th house dictated that he longed for a union of souls that was based on a model of pure peace and justice. Images come to mind of a mythical life on Venus, the planet of love, where there is never a discordant beat between lovers, but rather, continual harmony even if played in the minor chords. Physical lust was certainly a necessary aspect of two beings eternally intertwined, but the platonic component far outweighed it in importance. He had an attitude of duty, obligation and sacrifice when it came to heartfelt interactions. He could become hypochondriacal or martyristic to get the love so desperately wanted. There was a need for others to appreciate the sincerity of his intentions, to the daily tasks he executed in a conscientious and caring way and for others to know that his actions, no matter how routine they may seem, were based on devoted love.

His Part of Fortune in Capricorn and Part of Spirit in Cancer dictated that his destiny lay in creating practical and long-lasting achievements. Success came through hard work, determination, responsibility and perseverance. Fulfillment came from observing his progress through life and seeing it take a form and structure that will outlive him. His soul’s purpose guided him towards building security in his life, both emotional and material. He felt spiritual connections and the spark of the divine within his home and family. East Point in Aries dictated he was more likely to identify with the need to be free, independent, on his own, expressing when, where, how he wished. He needed to learn to balance his need for freedom with his need for closeness, and he needed to move towards a comfortable blend: he did not have all the power; other parties didn’t have all the power. Sometimes he got his way; sometimes they got their way; when this East Point is evolved, many times both compromise, harmonize and meet in the middle.

elemental dominance:

air

earth

He was communicative, quick and mentally agile, and he liked to stir things up. He was likely a havoc-seeker on some level. He was oriented more toward thinking than feeling. He carried information and the seeds of ideas. Out of balance, he lived in his head and could be insensitive to the feelings of others. But at his best, he helped others form connections in all spheres of their daily lives. He was a practical, reliable man and could provide structure and protection. He was oriented toward practical experience and thought in terms of doing rather than thinking, feeling, or imagining. Could be materialistic, unimaginative, and resistant to change. But at his best, he provided the practical resources, analysis, and leadership to make dreams come true.

modality dominance:

cardinal

He was happiest when he was doing anything new (in his case, it was beginning new partnerships), and he loved to begin new ventures. He enjoyed the challenge of claiming territory. He tended to be an initiator—and a bit territorial as well. Also, he had a tendency to start more things than he could possibly finish.

house dominants:

6th

1st

11th

His workplace in respect to his colleagues, and the type of work he did as well as his attitude to it was emphasized in his life. His everyday life and routine and the way he handled it was highlighted. How he went about being of service to others in a practical way, and the way he adjusted to necessities of mundane existence was a theme in his life. Also, how he aspired to refine and better himself was of importance as well. His personality, disposition and temperament is highlighted in his life. The manner in which he expressed himself and the way he approached other people is also highlighted. The way he approached new situations and circumstances contributed to show how he set about his life’s goals. The general state of his health is also shown, as well as his early childhood experiences defining the rest of his life. Globally aware, he put emphasis on his friends and acquaintances, as well as the influence of groups and societies on his life. His general hopes and aspirations revealed themselves, as well as how well he functioned as part of a system. This extended to how he manifested his creativity against the background of the community.

planet dominants:

Mars

Saturn

Sun

He was aggressive, individualistic and had a high sexual drive. He believed in action and took action. His survival instinct was strong. He wanted to take himself to the limit—and then surpass that limit, which he often did. He ultimately refused to compromise his integrity by following another’s agenda. He didn’t compare herself to other people and didn’t want to dominate or be dominated. He simply wanted to be free to follow his own path, whatever it was. He believed in the fact that lessons in life were sometimes harsh, that structure and foundation was a great issue in his life, and he had to be taught through through experience what he needed in order to grow. He paid attention to limitations he had and had to learn the rules of the game in this physical reality. He tended to have a practical, prudent outlook. He also likely held rigid beliefs. He had vitality and creativity, as well as a strong ego and was authoritarian and powerful. He had strong leadership qualities, he definitely knew who he was, and he had tremendous will. He met challenges and believed in expanding his life.

sign dominants:

Libra

Taurus

Aries

He loved beauty in all its guises—art, literature, classical music, opera, mathematics, and the human body. He usually was a team player who enjoyed debate but not argument. He was, at her best, an excellent strategist and a master at the power of suggestion. Even though he was likely a courteous, amiable person, he was definitely not a pushover. He tried to use diplomacy and intelligence to get what he wanted. His stubbornness and determination kept him around for the long haul on any project or endeavour. He was incredibly patient, singular in his pursuit of goals, and determined to attain what he wanted. Although he lacked versatility, he compensated for it by enduring whatever he had to in order to get what he wanted. He was bold, courageous, and resourceful. He always seemed to know what he believed, what he wanted from life, and where he was going. He could be dynamic and aggressive (sometimes, to a fault) in pursuing his goals—whatever they might be. Could be argumentative, lacked tact, and had a bad temper. On the other hand, his anger rarely lasted long, and he could be warm and loving with those he cared about.

Read more about him under the cut:

John Winston (later Ono) Lennon was born on October 9, 1940, in Liverpool, England, to Julia Lennon (née Stanley) and Alfred Lennon, a merchant seaman. He was raised by his mother's older sister Mimi Smith. In the mid-1950s, he formed his first band, The Quarrymen (after Quarry Bank High School, which he attended) who, with the addition of Paul McCartney, Richard Starkey (Ringo Starr), and George Harrison, later became The Beatles. After some years of performing in Liverpool and Hamburg, Germany, "Beatlemania" erupted in England and Europe in 1963 after the release of their singles "Love Me Do" and "Please Please Me". That same year, John's first wife Cynthia Lennon welcomed their only son Julian Lennon, named after John's mother. The next year the Beatles flew to America to appear on The Ed Sullivan Show (1948) (aka The Ed Sullivan Show), and Beatlemania spread worldwide. Queen Elizabeth II granted all four Beatles M.B.E. medals in 1965, for import revenues from their record sales; John returned his four years later, as part of an antiwar statement. John and the Beatles continued to tour and perform live until 1966, when protests over his calling the Beatles phenomenon "more popular than Jesus" and the frustrations of touring made the band decide to quit the road. They devoted themselves to studio work, recording and releasing albums such as "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band", "Magical Mystery Tour" and the "White Album". Instead of appearing live, the band began making their own "pop clips" (an early term for music videos), which were featured on television programs of the time. In the late 1960s John began performing and making albums with his second wife Yoko Ono, as the Beatles began to break up. Their first two albums, "Two Virgins" and "Life With The Lions", were experimental and flops by Beatles standards, while their "Wedding Album" was almost a vanity work, but their live album "Live Peace In Toronto" became a Top Ten hit, at the end of the 1960s. In the early 1970s John and Yoko continued to record together, making television appearances and performing at charity concerts. After the release of John's biggest hit, "Imagine", they moved to the US, where John was nearly deported because of his political views (a late-'60s conviction for possession of hashish in the U.K. was the excuse given by the government), but after a four-year legal battle he won the right to stay. In the midst of this, John and Yoko separated for over a year; John lived in Los Angeles with personal assistant May Pang, while Yoko dated guitarist David Spinozza. When John made a guest appearance at Elton John's Thanksgiving 1974 concert, Yoko was in the audience, and surprised John backstage. They reconciled in early 1975, and Yoko soon became pregnant. After the birth of their son Sean Lennon, John settled into the roles of "househusband" and full-time daddy, while Yoko became his business manager; both appeared happy in their new life together. After a five-year break from music and the public eye, they made a comeback with their album "Double Fantasy", but within weeks of their re-emergence, Lennon was murdered on the evening of December 8, 1980 by Mark David Chapman, a one-time Beatles fan angry and jealous over John's ongoing career, who fatally shot Lennon four times in the back outside his apartment building, The Dakota, as Lennon was returning from a recording session. Within minutes after being shot, John Lennon was dead at age 40. His violent death was a sudden and tragic end to the life of a talented singer and musician who wanted to make a difference in the world. (x)

#john lennon #star analyses #tragic stars #libra #astrology #long ass post #mine

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we-are-inevitable · 3 years

Note

for the ask game, sarah and katherine are getting married, katherine sets up jack and davey at the wedding (kath may also have dated jack At Some Point and theyre now friends but its not necessary lol)

oh my god wait ok i absolutely love this ?? i know there a few fics like this already, but i love the idea of jack and davey not knowing each other beforehand! like maybe they've seen each other in passing and have like. been to the same events and parties and stuff, just bc they're both around sarah and kath all the time, but them not actually hitting it off until the wedding is such a good concept !! here's a little scene bc this is just too good not to write something for

***

"Why are you standing alone?"

The voice comes from his side. He turns and sees Katherine, and as soon as they lock eyes, Jack smiles wider than ever. She looks gorgeous like this, all done up pretty and wearing a dress more beautiful than any Jack's ever seen. After a moment spent admiring his best friend, Jack shrugs and lets out a soft laugh. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me, babe. Okay? It's your wedding day, Katie- go have fun! There's no reason you need to not be grinding on your wife right now."

"Okay, yeah, but," Katherine pauses as she grabs both of Jack's hands, swinging his arms like a child. "My version of fun involves seeing you have fun. Your my man of honor! It's, like, required for you to have fun!"

Jack huffs. "And if I say I'm having fun standing here watchin' everyone make a fool of themselves?"

"If you aren't gonna dance," Katherine starts, tugging him as she begins walking backward. Jack rolls his eyes fondly, and allows Katherine to pull him closer to the head table. "Will you at least sit and drink? You can talk to Davey! Get to know him a bit!"

David- er, Davey- is Katherine's brother in law. Jack doesn't know him that well, but he's seen him at a few parties that the girls have thrown; he seems like a nice guy, but Jack doesn't even begin to know how to talk to him. They don't exactly run in the same social circles.

But, before Jack can get a word in edgewise, Katherine is already waving at David, who smiles back at her.

He isn't the only one sitting at the table. The majority of the wedding party is on the dance floor, but there are a few staggered along the table- mainly couples sitting down, either having a break from the party or waiting for a spot to clear out on the floor. He's not sure why David is alone, though. Apparently, he won't be for long.

"Davey!" Katherine calls as they walk closer. "I need assistance, 'cause someone is being boring. You know Jack, right?"

"I've think we've met once before," David grins as he stands, then holds a hand out for Jack to shake. As he does so, David says, "You were the drunk one on the counter at the New Years party a few years ago, right?"

Jack cringes. "Not a great first impression, I know," He laughs as he takes the seat next to David- it's not his, but the guy who it belongs to is one of Sarah's friends from college, and he's been on the dance floor all night, so Jack doesn't see him coming back anytime soon. He looks back at David, though, and raises a brow. "If we're bringin' up past meetings, though, I seem to have a certain memory about you at one of Albert's Fourth of July parties."

"I've never been able to do another jello shot," David says immediately, shaking his head. There's a serious expression on his face- one that makes Jack chuckle. "That was horrible. I can't believe Sarah made me do that."

At the mention of Sarah, Jack looks up, immediately finding Sarah and Katherine on the dance floor. He's not sure when Katherine left the head table, but he grins as he sees them together. "Can't be any worse than the shit Kath has gotten me into over the years."

When Jack looks back at David, he's smiling toward the dance floor. "They really are perfect for each other, huh?" David asks after a moment. "They're sweet."

"They're shitheads."

"That too," David agrees, laughing. "They've been conspiring for a while to, like, find me a wedding date. Like- during the wedding planning. Sarah had it in a binder. 'Find Dave a Date.' I hate her."

"I made the mistake of tellin' Katie I wouldn't be bringin' a plus one anymore, since the guy I was talkin' to stopped talkin' to me, and she literally forced me to download Tinder," Jack admits, then grins when David laughs even harder from beside him- they've both had a few drinks, of course they're both a little giggly. "It didn't work, obviously, but just know you ain't the only one they've been buggin' about finding a date."

David nods. He seems to take this information in, letting it sit for a few moments, before he holds up one finger, downs his glass- containing a custom cocktail that the girls created- and looks back at Jack as soon as he's done. "Let's dance, then."

"Huh?" Jack asks, more caught off guard than anything. "You- You want to dance?"

"Why not?" David asks. "Let's rub it in their faces a little bit, for all the shit they give us. All in good fun."

Jack considers it for approximately one second before smirking and saying, "I like you, Jacobs. Let's do this."

***

obviously they have fun at the wedding, keep talking afterward, and fall in love <3 this is such a stupid little set-up, but i loved the concept! thank you for the ask !!

#ask a jac !#jac writes #javid #jack kelly #david jacobs #davey jacobs #katherine pulitzer #sarah jacobs #newsbians #newsies

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alexlacquemanne · 2 years

Text

On this day in CM Punk History :

June 27th 2011

Monday Night Raw : Raw Roulette : CM Punk interrupted Shawn Michaels

Kane Def CM Punk by Count-Out live from Thomas & Mack Center, Las Vegas, Nevada

Pipebomb !

"John Cena, while you lay there, hopefully as uncomfortable as you possibly can be, I want you to listen to me. I want you to digest this because before I leave in 3 weeks with your WWE Championship, I have a lot of things I want to get off my chest.

I don’t hate you, John. I don’t even dislike you. I do like you. I like you a hell of a lot more than I like most people in the back.

I hate this idea that you’re the best. Because you’re not. I’m the best. I’m the best in the world. There’s one thing you’re better at than I am and that’s kissing Vince McMahon’s ass.

You’re as good as kissing Vince’s ass as Hulk Hogan was. I don’t know if you’re as good as Dwayne though. He’s a pretty good ass kisser. Always was and still is.

Whoops! I’m breaking the fourth wall!

I am the best wrestler in the world.

I’ve been the best ever since day one when I walked into this company. And I’ve been vilified and hated since that day, because Paul Heyman saw something in me that nobody else wanted to admit. That’s right, I’m a Paul Heyman guy. You know who else was a Paul Heyman guy? Brock Lesnar. And he split just like I’m splitting. But the biggest difference between me and Brock is I’m going to leave with the WWE Championship.

I’ve grabbed so many of Vincent K. McMahon’s brass rings that it’s finally dawned on me that they're just that, they’re completely imaginary. The only thing that’s real is me and the fact that day in and day out, for almost six years, I have proved to everybody in the world that I am the best on this microphone, in that ring, even in commentary! Nobody can touch me!

And yet no matter how many times I prove it, I’m not on your lovely little collector cups. I’m not on the cover of the program. I’m barely promoted. I don't get to be in movies. I’m certainly not on any crappy show on the USA Network. I’m not on the poster of WrestleMania. I’m not on the signature that’s produced at the start of the show. I’m not on Conan O’Brian. I’m not on Jimmy Fallon. But the fact of the matter is, I should be.

And trust me, this isn’t sour grapes. But the fact that Dwayne is in the main event at WrestleMania next year and I’m not makes me sick!

Oh hey, let me get something straight. Those of you who are cheering me right now, you are just as big a part of me leaving as anything else. Because you’re the ones who are sipping on those collector cups right now. You’re the ones that buy those programs that my face isn’t on the cover of. And then at five in the morning at the airport, you try to shove it in my face so you can get an autograph and try to sell it on eBay because you’re too lazy to go get a real job.

I’m leaving with the WWE Championship on July 17th. And hell, who knows, maybe I’ll go defend it in New Japan Pro Wrestling. Maybe…I’ll go back to Ring of Honor.

Hey, Colt Cabana, how you doing?

The reason I’m leaving is you people. Because after I’m gone, you’re still going to pour money into this company. I’m just a spoke on the wheel. The wheel is going to keep turning and I understand that. Vince McMahon is going to make money despite himself. He’s a millionaire who should be a billionaire. You know why he’s not a billionaire? Because he surrounds himself with glad-handed, nonsensical, douchebag yes men, like John Laurinaitis, who’s going to tell him everything he wants to hear, and I’d like to think that maybe this company will be better after Vince McMahon is dead. But the fact is, it’s going to be taken over by his idiotic daughter and his doofus son-in-law and the rest of his stupid family.

Let me tell you a personal story about Vince McMahon, alright? We do this whole bully campaign…

I've been silenced!"

youtube

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hobbitsnapes · 4 years

Text

the elf in the café chapter 9

The ending to A corpse husband story

(Photo credits goes to vallact)

Summary: Never in his life, did he think going to a cafe and meeting a Harry Potter nerd could change his life. (I’m shit at summaries

A/N: here it is everyone, the end. I’m so very thankful to each and everyone of you who red this story. It truly means a lot and I'm proud to call this work mine. Many more stories to come for our little faceless man.

H/N means his name, being that we don’t know what his actual name is currently

Time seemed to drag on his entire life, going by each day slowly, waiting, for either something great to happen, or the end. That was, until he met her, and subsequently fell in love with her. Never had he felt such happiness, love, and joy. Even with his fans, he hadn’t felt as amazing as when he was with her, the woman who changed his life. Time seemed to be a blur, a thing that he wished he had more of, to spend with her.

That’s what led him to now, a content and warm smile on his face, heart thumping wildly in his chest, as he pressed share.

If you had told 22 year old H/N that he’d do this, he would’ve looked at you like you were mad. Absolutely fucking bonkers.

But now a 27 year old H/N, was doing the very thing he was mortified of doing.

Not only was it a photo, but the photo. The one that he knew would no doubt cause a total meltdown on the internet.

There he was, a smile on his face as he held his new baby girl. Having just had her placed in his arms a few seconds prior to the photo. His pale tattooed arms wrapping around the small baby, a hand placed on her tiny head.

You could clearly see his face, only half of it showed to the camera. His head leaning down, a large, proud smile on his face as tears streamed from his eyes as he looks at his daughter.

Under the photo, layed a caption, one that he truly came up with on the spot. Pouring as much as his heart into it as he could.

‘I always was apprehensive about posting my face, always pushing it off and never felt it was the right time. I always said I would do it when I was not only happy with myself, but my life. Well, today is one of the best days of my life. I became a father to my beautiful daughter Evee. Her mother, is one of the strongest, most selfless, amazing women I’ve ever met. Seeing her bring our daughter into this world, with a smile on her face through it all, shows just how fucking truly amazing she is. I’ve never felt so proud in my life, than first being a husband and now a father. I love you all, and my girls.’

He had turned his phone off for a week, after posting, and sharing the link to Twitter with the caption ‘sorry for my inconsistent posting these last few months. Something incredibly small, but big came up, and changed my life. Oh and face reveal.’ He wanted to completely blank out everything from the outside world, and only focus on his girls. The two women who both changed his entire life, who made him the happiest man alive. Once a broken man, now full of love, and happiness because of them. He wanted nothing but to spend as much time as he could, basking in the joys of fatherhood, and loving the woman he so proudly calls his wife.

It’s as if his daughter knew to come exactly a week before the day, the day he cherished for the second year in a row. The day he married the love of his life.

To commemorate it, he turned his phone back on, letting all the notifications come pouring in, and again went to post.

While his last post was dedicated to not only revealing who he was, but his daughter, his wife was absent from the photo. As per her request, claiming to ‘looking horrible’ that day. He argued that she hadn’t looked as beautiful, since the day they said I do. But he kept to her wishes, keeping the photos and videos of the day between them.

But this post, was purely dedicated to the first love of his life. The woman, who had changed his entire life, who he had never shared to the world. Wanting to keep her existence to himself and the ones he kept close to him. The woman he swears is proof heaven exists and sent her to him, with wings on her back and a glow that shines greater than any light, or star.

The first photo, was what had been his background on everything, and framed and kept between them and his closest friends, and one of his favorite photos to have ever been taken.

It was their first kiss as husband and wife, a promise to love one another to eternity, to seal the pure love between them. The moment she became his wife, and her husband and lover.

The second, was one of the best videos he’s ever had. Nobody but them had seen it, not even his friends. Wanting to keep it between them, until now.

She had hid the phone out of sight, perfectly filming their couch where she sat him.

It was his birthday, a day he grew to love in the 4 years he’s spent with her. A day he once hated, now loved because of her. It reminded him that another year was spent by her side, a reminder that he was here for a reason, to meet and love her.

She handed him a box, just a plain wrapped box. It was rather small, not that he cared, having loved anything and everything she gave him, knowing it came from her heart.

He opened it, and with a gasp, a hand flew to his mouth as tears instantly came to his eyes. In a state of pure shock, and pure happiness and joy, he looked at the positive pregnancy test.

A laugh bubbles out of her as tears fell from her eyes at the look of pure joy written on her husbands face, before being pulled into his arms, tears streaming down both of their faces as they clutch one another, pure love and joy between them as they embrace one another.

The next photo, was one he had not only framed but a small copy in his wallet, but in his car, and filming room.

She hardly showed the entirety of the pregnancy, that was until she hit 8 months. Only a month to two until their little girl came into the world.

Both of her hands held the side of her now large belly, her shirt pulled up revealing her bump. Her head leaning down with a smile on her face, looking lovingly at his hand that was placed in the middle of her stomach. He remembers the feeling of their daughter kicking his hand softly, laughter bubbling out of him at his daughter's excitement at feeling her fathers touch. Even without being in the world yet, they had a connection from the moment she was created.

The next was again a video, one that made both laugh when they would watch.

She was filming it, laying on her back. She was heavily pregnant now, due in only a week from the day.

He laid on her legs, leaning down with both hands on the sides of her stomach. He moved his face down to her stomach, mumbling a ready to her which she said go to. He blew a raspberry into her stomach, a gasp that followed with laughter as their daughter jumped visibly inside her. You could clearly see the moment through her skin, making both laugh.

He did it a few more times,finally stopping due to feeling bad, kissing her stomach while whispering “I’m sorry baby, daddy won’t scare you anymore.”

The next photo, was exactly a year from the day. And one of his favorites.

It was their first wedding anniversary, a day they celebrated by going to the same park they first went to, under the very same cherry blossom tree.

They both dressed up, looking rather odd under the tree, with a small picnic and blanket. But neither cared, as they sat under the tree, embracing one another in the love they created, all those years ago.

It was a simple photo really. Just them kissing under the tree, smiles tugging at the corners of their mouths. Her left hand on his cheek, showing the stunning wedding and engagement ring he got for her. His left arm wrapping around her shoulders, revealing the black wedding band she got for him.

The next photo, was taken the present day, not a minute before he started piling these moments into a post. One that he loved dearly, a smile on his face as he looked at it.

It was truly a candid photo, one that wasn’t staged or planned, posed or anything. But truly magical to look at.

There she sat on the couch, hair a tangled mess and glasses perched on her nose. One hand writing notes down, with the other holding their daughter to her breast, a smile on her face as she fed her baby girl.

He had always been facilitated with watching her feed Evee, joking that it was just to stare at her enlarged breasts. But it was more than that, it was the sheer magic and aw that would take over him watching her body be able to do such a thing, how he truly thought she was magic, being able to feed their daughter with her body.

He put another one, one that they both smile at with warm hearts at the memory.

It was their very first photo, from only 4 years ago. It was from the fourth of July, layed on the blanket they brought to watch the fireworks. They both lay with smiles on their faces, looking at one another with an unspoken, but bubbling love that they look fondly back to.

He ended the series of pictures with one last video, one that he would cherish forever.

It was the night they came home from the hospital, a night that they will remember forever.

Both her and Evee lay on his naked chest, sound asleep on each side of his wide chest.

Her head rested on his right shoulder, a hand laying on her daughter's back.

Their daughter laid on his other side, her small face squished as it laid against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat lulling the baby to sleep.

He looked up to the phone, a tired smile on his face as he snapped it. Truly in the best place in the world. A place he thinks as his personal heaven.

He captioned the post as well, again choosing to come up with it on the spot, coming from his heart as a declaration of love to his little family.

‘It’s almost like my daughter knew to come into the world exactly a week before our 2 year anniversary. Like she knew that it would make perfect timing, to make my world whole. To fill my heart with even more love, that I didn’t know was possible, until I met my beautiful wife.

Y/N is more than just that though, she’s the strongest, most amazing, loving, beautiful, and truly badass woman I’ve ever met. She’s the most selfless, loving, and truly mind bending woman in the world, truly changing my life no more than 4 years ago today.

I met her at a cafe that’s a few blocks away from my old apartment, never imagining to meet someone there that day, who would turn my world upside down in the best way possible.

It didn’t take long to fall deeply in love with her, with how amazing she is, and the purest, most loving heart in the world.

She has a care like nobody else, a love to help others that stretches past the world, a love that she gave me, that chose me, to love her forever.

The first, was the moment I kissed my now wife, a kiss I’ll never forget

This video I’ve kept to myself and her this entire time, not wanting to show anyone, the moment she captured my reaction to finding out that, I was becoming a father. A moment that’s engraved into my mind and heart forever.

The next, is one of my favorites I’ve ever taken. She has always looked beautiful, every second of everyday. But she truly glowed, and was the most breathtaking when she was pregnant, a time I’ll miss, but love like it was yesterday.

The next video was just something she had watched on YouTube, an idea she told me we should try at 3 in the morning, after I came back in from a long night of streaming with my friends and you guys. It was truly not only the funniest fucking thing to watch, but do eye opening, the feeling of my daughter jumping inside her, is a feeling I swear I’m still able to feel.

The next, was exactly a year ago today. Our first anniversary as husband and wife. An entire year spent with being her husband. And her my wife. It was taken under the same tree she brought me to the day after we met, feeling a connection to her that I didn’t think was possible to feel.

The next, was taken just a few minutes ago. A true 180 from last year, but truly a beautiful moment, between a loving mother, who’s studying to become the greatest therapist there ever is, and her daughter. A moment I’m proud to be a part of and to help create.

The next, was the first photo we ever took together. It’s funny to look back on, to see the early signs of love in our eyes as we look at one another. Not knowing what’s to come.

And the last, was from the night we came home from the hospital. Evee was only 2 days old then, feeling like it was so long ago, but at the same time only yesterday. I hadn’t ever been so content, and happy, as holding my 2 girls in my arms.

Today’s less about me, and the shock of not only showing who I am, and being a father and married man. But rather a day to celebrate the wonderful woman I call my wife, and my beautiful daughter. Thank you everyone, for being by my side, and being here to watch my wolf change

-Corpse.

He smile as he logged into the stream, watching as views and the chat blows up as he hears all his friends voices.

All of them congratulate him, on not only the reveal of his face, but his newborn baby.

The entirety of the game is spent with everyone asking questions, showing great love and joy to him.

“So corpse, how’s it feel to have corpse daddy trending for a week now?” Asks Rae. Laughter bubbles out of him at this, his hand coming to his mouth. “It’s, honestly really funny. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Many asked how his daughter and wife were, and asking when they could meet them. He promised that one day they both would make an appearance in either a video or stream.

He played for only 2 hours, having to cut it short when the monitor goes off with the cries of his daughter. “Uh hey guys, I gotta get going, Evee needs her daddy. Alright, bye guys, thank you.”

He lays in the rocking chair he had built, rocking her back and forth as he fed her a bottle. He watched with tears in his eyes, a smile on his face at his little girl, wrapped in a pink fuzzy blanket. Her little hand held onto his pinky, squeezing the digit tightly as he held the small bottle.

He hummed quietly to her, a song she always fell fast asleep to.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you, please don’t take, my sunshine away.”

He ended the song with a soft kiss to her forehead, a smile on his face as he watched her sleep in his arms.

He looked up when he heard her, a smile on his face growing as his heart flutters in his chest.

She stood at the door, leaning against it. She only wore one of his shirts, the wine stain on it making him laugh. A tired, but happy smile graced her beautiful face as she looked at her little family.

She walked over to him, bending down and kissing his waiting lips. “I love you.” She whispers, hun repeating the words back before kissing her again.

They all lay in bed, having decided to bring their daughter to their room as they slept.

Both girls lay on his chest, as he looks down at both of them sound asleep. Never, has he felt so happy. And never, would he think that going to a small coffee shop, would lead to this. He knew the little Harry Potter fan he met all those years ago was different, truly loving the elf at the cafè he met all those years ago.

#corpse husband imagine #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband #corpse imagine #corpse fic #corpse #corpse x you #corpse x reader

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berrynarrybanana · 4 years

Text

on a summer evening

The one where Harry met Bea.

Warnings: Alcohol, fainting, asshole men who knock women over in clubs

Word Count: 13k+

P.S I did not edit

July 13, 2018

Harry’s POV

I pressed my lips to the shot glass, tossing back my fourth tequila shot of the night as Jeffrey slipped his hands over my shoulders, giving them a squeeze. I tilted my head back with a goofy grin, resting my head on his shoulder. Next to me, Gemma sputtered out, slapping her shot glass down on the marble bar top with a sour look on her face. I tried not to laugh at it as Jeffrey spoke.

“One more show to go.” Jeff shook my shoulders gently. “You did it man, you did 89 shows on your very first solo tour and you fucking killed it.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you and the band.” I turned my head, smiling at him. “Thanks for always being there for me, Jeffrey.”

“Thank you for letting me be a part of this amazing journey.” Jeffrey said. “Are you excited to have a little time off after this?

“Is it really time off if I’m going to be in the studio recording another album?” I rolled my eyes before turning back to the private bar. I lifted my hand up, catching the bartender’s attention. “Two more tequila shots, mate? Please and thanks.”

“I am not doing another tequila shot.”

With another eye roll, I looked over at my very unamused sister. She was practically swimming in her jean jacket, her hands tucked into the sleeves. I put the pieces together, realizing it was her boyfriend’s jean jacket that she was wearing over her casual outfit for the evening.

“I’m not trying to get shitfaced tonight, H. I have to pick Michael up from LAX tomorrow and I cannot deal with that place when I’m hungover.”

“These shots are for me.” I clarified, playfully scoffing her. The bartender sat them down in front of me and I slid them in front of my body in playful defense. “Think I’m gonna pay for all your alcohol tonight? You’re running a successful business now, aren’t ya? Think you can afford your own tequila shots, mate.”

“Oi, mate,” She whacked my shoulder with her sleeve, her face screwing up as I laughed. “Fuck off.”

I laughed, reaching down for one of the tequila shots. The glass was pressed to my lips, a little bit of tequila spilling onto them, when my name was called from somewhere behind me.

“Harry!”

My blood ran cold as I realized who it was.

Hannah.

I turned in my seat as Jeffrey muttered a ‘good luck, man’ before walking away.

Gemma let out a low whistle and I shot her a quick look before I turned back. Hannah looked like trouble, her blonde hair tied back and her red dress just a little too perfectly snug. I tried not to stare at her body for too long, my eyes snapping back up to her face after I realized she wasn’t alone.

I stood up from my stool, plastering a fake smile on my lips.

“Hi, stranger.” Hanna dropped her new boyfriend’s hand, tossing her arms around my neck for a quick hug. I gave her a half hearted hug back, glancing at the man hovering behind her with an unamused look on his face. “How are you?”

“Doing good love, thanks.” I tried not to let myself get caught up in the scent of her perfume as it wafted over me. Vanilla and citrus tickled my nose, throwing me back to a memory of us cuddled up in bed, her hair dangling over my face as she kissed me. “Hey, mate. Nice to meet you. M’Harry.”

“Greg.” He stuck his hand out and gave it a firm handshake before glancing back at Hannah. She gave him a bright smile, a silent conversation passing between them. A bitter taste sat on my tongue as I watched them. That used to be me. “Nice to finally meet you, bro. Heard a lot about you.”

She seemed happy.

Something about her love drunk smile and her glowing skin set me off.

Why did she get to be happy?

“Are you guys here for the night?” I cleared my throat, leaning back against the bar as Greg slipped his hand around Hannah’s waist, giving it a squeeze.

I hated this.

If hell was a place on earth, then surely I was perishing in the flames right now as I watched the girl I once loved be touched by another man. Even if I didn’t love her anymore, I didn’t want to see anyone else touching her. Especially not the guy she was fucking around with when she was with me. I cleared my throat, shifting around as Hannah nodded.

“Yeah.” She glanced up at Greg before looking back at me. “We’ll be at the show tomorrow though. Got tickets and everything.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Hannah.” I frowned, my brows furrowing. “Would have let you guys hang out in the barricades with everyone else.”

Even though you broke my heart into a million pieces.

“We wanted the full fan experience.”

That was a nice way of saying she didn’t want people to think we were back together. She wanted my fans, my family, and everyone else in the world to know that whatever we used to have was over now. I pressed my lips together in a tight smile, nodding at her.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” She said, leaning over to give me a halfhearted hug. “Don’t get too wasted, I expect to get my money’s worth from your performance.”

“Yeah, I’ll try.” I let out a forced laugh as they walked away.

“Wow.” Gemma whispered beside me. “Think I’ll go ahead and take that shot now, yeah?”

“Yeah.” I mumbled, watching them walk away. “Take as many as you want.”

This was going to be a long fucking night.

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

Bea’s POV

“This is the best birthday ever.” Claire shouted over the music, her eyes glued to Emma Stone as she walked by with a drink in her hand. “That’s the fifth celebrity I’ve seen tonight. I can die a happy woman.”

“You think Emma Stone is a good one,” Jackson, one of our closest friends shouted. “I just saw Katy Fucking Perry.”

“I didn’t know that was her middle name.” I called out, causing Claire to bark out a laugh. “I hate to be the one to do this guys, but I have to break the seal.”

My entire group of friend’s groaned and I finished sipping my watermelon margarita.

“It’s the last bar of the night!” Claire shrugged, glancing at everyone else as if to say ‘fuck off, she’s fine’. “Go on, leave me and Emma alone while you’re havin’ a piss. Fix your lipstick while you’re at it! It’s all smudged up and patchy.”

“Thanks.” I rolled my eyes, finishing up the last of my drink before I sat it down on the high top cocktail table we had been hovering at for the last twenty minutes. “I’ll be right back!”

“Hurry up! Twenty minutes until I’m officially twenty-four” She cheered, a bright smile lighting up her face as she looked behind me.

I wasn’t looking forward to pushing my way through the dance floor to get to the ladies room, but the tequila I had consumed tonight definitely did me a few favors. I was feeling frisky and I wasn’t afraid to tell someone off if I needed to. As I walked, trying my best to avoid elbows and asses being tossed in my direction, I started to think about how happy I truly was tonight.

Every bar that we visited during her birthday trip was amazing. We were drunk out of our minds and enjoying every second of it. The real world was long forgotten, any thoughts of work or real life problems dissolved with tequila and laughter. I made a mental note to pat myself on the back for planning such a perfect surprise for her birthday this year.

When I finally made it in the direction of the bathroom, there was a line out the door. Luckily, it was only four girls standing outside the restroom. I made my way to the end of the line, adjusting my purse before I reached for my phone in the small, cross body bag.

“Your dress is so fucking cute,” At first, I wasn’t sure that anyone would be talking to me of all people, but I was wrong. I looked up, a drunken smile on my lips as I noticed the girl in front of me smiling back. “I wish I would have worn something more like that. It’s so hot in here I think I could pass out. Where did you get it?”

“Target!” I cheered out. “The lady gave me a discount on it! She wanted the same dress so I ran back to get it off the rack for her and she took six dollars off!”

“That’s wicked!” She smiled back at me and I could tell that it was genuine. “I’m Madison!”

“Beatrice!” I shouted back. “Nice to meet you Madison!”

“You too,” She nodded.

After a few more minutes of friendly chatting, Madison disappeared into the restroom without another word. I checked my phone, reassuring myself that I hadn’t missed Claire’s official birthday just yet. With a relieved sigh, I shoved my phone back in my purse as a girl came out of the restroom. It didn’t take me long, my flowy dress perfect for drunk peeing.

When I was done washing my hands, I started touching my lipstick up. There were a few drunk girls in a small group gathered just behind me, laughing loudly. I loved watching drunk girls just as much as I loved being a drunk girl. They were always so nice about everything and I adored that.

As I put the top back on my lipstick, a girl walked up next to me.

I glanced at her a few times before I finally decided to walk out, afraid she would find me creepy for my staring. Something about her face and her style was oddly familiar, but I couldn’t put a name to the face. As I continued walking, my mind focused on the girl, I felt a body collide with mine. I let out a squeak, holding my hands out as my body started falling back.

“Oi, mate! Watch where you’re fucking going next time, yeah?” The voice that was shouting sounded like it was right next to my ears and a pair of arms were tightening around my body as I stumbled back. “Fucking drunk pricks think it’s funny to do stupid shit like knock women over.”

I blinked a few times, unclenching my fists as I tried to get my footing back. I slowly opened my eyes, not realizing that I even closed them as the arms that had been around me slipped away, letting me stand on my own. I was thankful I opted out on high heels and went for a pair of closed toed Chelsea boots instead. They were much easier to wear when I was drunk and they were most definitely the reason I was standing steady right now .

When I finally found my feet flat on the ground again, my head started to spin and my skin flushed cold even though my blood was running hot. I had fainted before in my lifetime and this was always the feeling that I got right beforehand. I reached up to press my fingers to my forehead as I swayed, the arms that were around me seconds before slipping back over me again as I reached out, gripping the shoulder of my knight in shining armor.

“Easy there, love.” The voice that spoke before was definitely British and the owner was definitely talking against my ear. I felt a hand slip over my forearm, guiding my arms to rest over their shoulders as their cool breath tickled my skin. “Hey, can you hear me? Talk to me, lovely. Gotta hear your voice.”

“I-” I choked out the word before dropping my head forward. I guess my forehead landed on their chest, the scent of their cologne oddly soothing. “It’s hot in here.”

“You need to get some air?” The voice asked and I nodded. “Alright, let’s get you some air. Come on, love.”

I felt one of his arms slip around my waist, pulling me close to his side as I opened my eyes again. The room was still spinning, but I didn’t feel like I was going to fall anymore.

The arm around me and the reassuring feeling of my savior's side pressed against my own made me think that maybe I was going to be just fine.

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

Harry’s POV

It all happened in slow motion before me.

I was leaning against a cocktail table, my phone glued to my face as I waited for Gemma to come out of the crowded bathroom. There was a bathroom upstairs for patrons of the private bar, but we had come down to find Jeffrey. He left at some point during Hannah and I’s awkward exchange to find a few of our friends that were coming to join the party upstairs.

When he didn’t return after about twenty minutes, we decided to go looking for him. While Gemma was in the bathroom, I heard a group of guys at the table just a few feet away talking a bunch of shit about their sex lives. With each little lie or arrogant comment made, I rolled my eyes. They sounded like proper fuckboys and I felt sorry for any girl that decided to go home with them tonight.

As I was scrolling through my private instagram, my thumb hovering over an old picture of Hannah and I curled up on the beach behind my Malibu home, I heard a squeal over the loud music in front of me. I snapped my head up, my eyes immediately landing on a girl who was nearly toppling over to the ground and one of the guys from the table I mentioned earlier standing in front of her with wide eyes, watching her fall.

I wasted no time dropping my phone and moving forward.

I slipped my arms under hers, her back colliding with my chest as I crouched down to support her.

“Oi, mate! Watch where you’re fucking going next time, yeah?” I snapped out, moving my body so that I could try and steady the girl on her feet. She was still tense, her hands balled up in fists as if she were still waiting for her body to hit the ground. “Fucking drunk pricks think it’s funny to do stupid shit like knock women over?”

I’m sure someone had caught that on their camera phones and surely they would spread it on every social media platform. The guy in front of me just shrugged it off before turning back to his friends. If that was his tactic to pick up girls, then it was a shit one and I hoped that someday a girl punched him in the face.

Sure, it was a little aggressive, but so was knocking innocent girls over and watching them fall.

As I steadied the girl on her feet, my hands slipping over her soft biceps, Gemma appeared.

“Grab my phone and put it in my pocket.” I said. “I left it on the table behind me.”

“Got it.” She shouted. “What happened.”

I shook my head at her.

I didn’t have time to explain it all right now.

I turned back to the girl as she lifted a hand, pressing it to her forehead. All the blood in her face had drained and even though I had put her back on her feet, she was swaying from side to side with her eyes squeezed shut. She was cute, that was for sure.

I slipped my hands up her arms, grabbing her wrists before dropping them over her shoulders. I rested my hands on her sides, gripping them tightly so that she wouldn’t fall over. Gemma slipped my phone in my front pocket before leaning up to shout in my ear.

“Gonna keep looking for Jeff.” She told me. “Be careful.”

“You be careful.” I said. “Call me if you need me.”

“I will.”

The girl stumbled a little and I tightened my grip.

“Easy there, love.” My lips brushed over the shell of her ear as I spoke. The floral scent of her hair tickled my nose and I tried not to dwell on the comforting smell. “Can you hear me? Talk to me, lovely. Gotta hear your voice.”

“I-” She choked out the word, her body swaying forward and her forehead pressing against my pectoral muscle as her arms tightened around my neck. “It’s hot in here.”

“You need to get some air?” I called out, flexing my fingers against the plush skin of her sides.

She was so soft under my touch and the boyish part of my mind wondered what it would feel like to grip her sides just like this while I was fucking into her from behind. I cleared my throat, pushing those thoughts far, far into the back of my mind. Now was not the time or place to pop a stiffy over a stranger I just met in a nightclub.

“Alright, let’s get you some air. Come on, love.”

I let my right arm slip over her waist, pulling her in close to my side as her arms dropped in front of us. Her head lolled onto my shoulder and for a second I was worried that she had passed out, but she quickly pulled it back up with a soft shake. Her right hand fell down against my own on her waist and I reached over with my left hand to grab hers. I prayed that I could get her down the hall and into the private elevator without anyone else catching me.

The last thing I needed was for this to be on the internet alongside a video of me shouting at a stranger in a bar. I pulled her along, past the table of jackasses and a few more groups of friends. I just had to get her past the bathroom and to the elevator in one piece before we made it upstairs to fresh air and a softer scene and quieter people.

Occasionally on our walk I would glance over at her just to make sure she was still conscious and I wasn’t dragging her along beside me. I noticed that she had finally opened her eyes, but I couldn’t see what color they actually were from the angle I was standing at. We were nearly to the elevator when she stopped dead in her tracks, snapping her head up to look up at me with wide eyes.

My eyes trailed over her face and down her body, searching for any injuries I might have missed.

“What’s wrong?” I quickly, tightening my grip on her waist. “You alright?”

“My best friend.” She blinked up at me, her strawberry red lips set in a deep frown and the skin between her thick brows wrinkled. My heart skipped a beat at just how cute she looked like this. I quickly shook the thought away. “It’s her birthday and I was supposed to get back to our table.”

“We’ll give her a shout when we get in the elevator.” I said. “S’alright. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“I don’t have my purse.” She said, looking down at her body and then up at me. “I- I must have lost it. Fuck, it’s probably on the floor and my phone-”

When her eyes met mine, she looked a little nervous as if I would be mad at her for losing her purse after nearly being knocked to the ground.

I gave her a gentle smile.

“I’ll go get it.”

The faster I ran back for the purse, the faster I could get her upstairs and myself out of the public eye. I glanced around, my eyes finding an empty spot against the hallway wall where no other patrons of the club were crowded. It would be easier to leave her there than to take her back with me. I walked us over and slipped my arm from around her waist, settling it on her upper arm instead to guide her back to the wall.

“M’gonna leave you right here and go get your purse, okay?” I ducked down, looking into her eyes.

They were blue.

Just a standard blue, no other colors mixed into her irises. They were pretty, shaded by her dark lashes and complemented by the orange eyeshadow and highlighter on her cheekbones.

“It’s black.” She said. “It’s got a little gold buckle on the front. It’s Kate Spade.”

“Alright.” I nodded, my lips ticking up at the corners. She had a pretty voice, but she was a bit louder than she needed to be. “Gonna leave my phone with you. If anyone tries to mess with you or you just feel unsteady, dial 911.”

I couldn’t leave her my unlocked phone with all of my personal information in it. That would be a terrible idea. She was cute, but I still didn’t know her. Besides, there was no way for her to even call me if she had my phone. She had a better chance calling the cops for help than me anyways.

“You don’t have to.” She said quickly. “I’ll be fine.”

“What if you nearly faint again?” I asked, my brows quirking up.

She snapped her mouth shut as I slipped my hands from her sides.

I nodded quickly, pursing my lips out at her before I reached into my back pocket, slipping my phone out. I leaned back down, steadying myself with a hand on her bicep as I spoke into her ear.

“I’ll be back in a tick.” I said softly, giving the fleshy part of her arm a soft squeeze.

“Okay.”

With that, I left her there in the back corner of the hallway before jetting off.

As my feet carried me on, two questions kept running through my mind.

What was her name and why did I feel so attracted to a girl I didn’t even know?

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

Bea’s POV

I was holding Harry Styles’s phone in my hand.

The moment I looked into his eyes, I knew who he was.

I had been a huge fan of One Direction since the beginning of their career and even though Harry wasn’t my favorite member, I still loved him dearly. I had been following his solo career from Dunkirk to his debut album. Now I was standing against a wall, waiting for him to return with my purse. Part of me wanted to say something to him about my knowledge of his existence.

The other part of me knew better than to do that. It would be embarrassing and I wouldn’t blame him if he left me downstairs on my own afterwards. As much as I hated to admit it, I still felt dizzy and I actually needed some fresh air. I was surprised that he hadn’t left me to my own devices already, if I was being honest with myself. I was just a stranger in a club and he was Harry Styles.

The situation didn’t make sense in my hazy brain.

I gripped his phone tight in my hands, afraid that it might fall out of my clutches and land in the wrong set of hands. I was the only one in the dimly lit hallway, but my irrational fear was there to stay. Surely he would be mad if I lost it. My knees were still wobbly and I was still lightheaded but I was admittedly feeling much better than before.

I dropped my head against the wall behind me. I was more upset and worried about missing Claire’s official birthday than being pushed over by a drunken asshole. I had left her all alone on her birthday while Harry Styles was carting me off to a rooftop to get some air. Before I could dwell on it more, I felt a warm hand land on my bicep, the touch breaking me from my thoughts.

When I snapped my head up, I saw Harry standing there.

“Are you okay?” He ducked down, his breath washing over my skin and sending chills down my spine. “Still feeling dizzy?

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“Alright, let’s get you upstairs.” He pulled back, giving me a soft smile before slipping his arm back over my waist.

I wasn’t sure that I needed his arm for support anymore, but I didn’t know how to politely tell him that, so I let it be. His cologne was strong and the smell was almost calming to my senses. All of the panic that I had before was washed away with one whiff of vanilla and tobacco. When we finally made it to the elevator, he leaned over to press the button and my eyes caught a glimpse at his tattoos and his rings.

I had forgotten all about his tattoos, my eyes stuck on the giant anchor inked on his wrist. I wanted to reach over and touch it, but I knew that would probably make me seem insane. Instead, I tightened my grip around his phone. When the elevator doors opened, he glanced down at me with that smile again. The dimple carved into his cheek and his cologne were making me feel dizzy again.

I turned forward, taking a deep breath with my eyes closed.

“Do you feel like you’re going to faint again?” Harry’s arm tightened around my waist and I jumped a little, gripping his phone so tight that I’m sure my knuckles were white. “Can I do anything?”

“I’m okay, just a little shaky.” I squeaked out, taking a deep breath as the elevator started to move.

Out of instinct, one of my hands flew out as a way to steady myself, searching for something to hold onto.

“I’ve got yeh.” He slipped his fingers through mine and I let out a groan as he chuckled beside me.

“S’not funny.” I mumbled, slowly my eyes before looking up at him. “I’m like bambi on ice skates.”

“You’re drunk and your equilibrium is thrown off.” He said softly. “It’s okay, I promise we’re almost to the top.”

“Thank god for that.”

---------------------------------------

Harry’s POV

Maybe you should just let her go, Harry. I’m sure she can stand on her own.

I rolled my eyes, looking up at the ceiling as I ignored the voice in my head.

I wasn’t ready to let her go yet.

“I still need to call your friend,” I said softly. She gave a quick nod, releasing my hand to fish around in her bag for her phone. After a few seconds, she had her phone unlocked and on a contact name. I tightened my arm around her waist, as I held the phone to my ear. “Thanks, love.”

“Where are you!” The voice on the other end of the line was loud, but the music behind the voice was much louder. “Are you okay? You left for the bathroom forever ago and it does not take that long to reapply lipstick. Did someone kidnap you?”

“She’s not been kidnapped.” I tried not to laugh, fearing that the girl and her friend would think me crazy for finding her panic comical. “My name is Harry. Someone knocked your friend over earlier and she looked a little unsteady. M’taking her up to the rooftop now so she can get some fresh air and cool down for a minute.”

“There’s a rooftop?” Her friend asked. “Where is she now?”

“We’re in the elevator.” I said. “If you want to meet my sister down by the bathroom, she’ll come up with you. It’s an exclusive section of the club and you can’t just...walk into it. Gotta have a code. I’ll have my sister wait for you. Her name is Gemma.”

“You’re Harry Styles.” Her friend stated casually as we shuffled into the elevator. I reached out to hit the rooftop button before slipping my arm back behind her. “Interesting.”

“Is that okay?” I asked, glancing down at Bea as the elevator doors closed.

“Yeah, I don’t… you’re cool, I guess.” She said. “I’m not exactly alone though. There are like...six of us.”

“Oh.” I said softly. “Is everyone else going to be okay with the whole….Harry Styles thing?”

“Yeah.” She laughed. “No offense, but Beatrice and I are the only two people who know that you’re an amazing and wonderfully talented being. They won’t even bat an eye.”

“Good.” I said. “And if...I don’t know, Beyonce were to walk by?”

“We’ve already seen her.” Claire said casually. “No problem.”

“I’ll see you soon then.” I laughed. “What’s your name, by the way?”

“Claire.” She said. “My name is Claire.”

“Goodbye Claire.” I said. “And happy birthday, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

The phone beeped as she ended the call and I extended my hand out, offering the girl her phone. She took it back with a quiet thank you before stuffing it in her purse. She cleared her throat, trying to stand up a little straighter. There was a lot more light in the elevator and I could see her much better. I studied the freckles on her face, her skin glowing around her cheekbones and her forehead.

She was really pretty.

There was something about the soft features of her face and her plush cheeks that made my lips twist up into a smile. She looked up at me, her thick brows pulling together in the middle just a little bit as she gave me a curious smile.

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing.” I shook my head, straightening out my smile as I reached up to scratch at my jaw quickly. She had caught me staring. “Um, what’s your name?”

“Beatrice.” She said softly, her lips dropping down into a frown. “You can call me Bea if you want to though.”

“Beatrice. That’s a very pretty name.” I said, turning my eyes back to the elevator doors as they opened. “Like I told your friend, the rooftop bar is a little exclusive. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, glancing at me with a secretive smirk on her lips. “Haven’t freaked out yet, have I?”

“Ah, you do know who I am then.” I tightened my arm around her waist and she laughed, giving me a quick nod. “Claire might have mentioned that.”

“Unfortunately, I know way too much about you.” She laughed, her cheeks turning pink as we started to walk. “I was a huge One Direction fan, like a...a massive, massive One Direction fan.”

I let out a laugh, a genuine laugh that pulled from my belly, sending an echo through the air after.

“Are you teasing me?” I asked, my voice slipping up an octave. “S’not ‘Treating People With Kindness’ is it?”

“Who said you were my favorite solo artist?” She asked, cocking a brow up. “‘Treat People with Kindness’ what does that even mean?”

I sputtered, my eyes growing wide as I shook my head. She was really teasing me and it was so fucking adorable. I stared down at her in shock as she tried not to laugh at her own joke.

“You’re mean.” I said, a teasing lilt to my own voice. “I’m taking you back.”

She laughed softly as we continued to walk around the wooden boards of the private bar. There was a sofa nestled in the corner of the bar I had reserved for myself and my friends. There were already bottles of water and a few different beverages tucked away in an ice bucket. I guess my friends would be making new friends tonight.

“Niall was my favorite for a while, but you stole my heart eventually.” She confessed as we walked past the first bar and turned a corner.

I looked down at her, blinking in disbelief.

She seemed confused at first, but it hit her seconds later.

“I did not mean...I wasn’t teasing that time, I swear.” She held a hand up in defense, trying her best not to laugh. She rolled her lips in, looking at me with wide eyes as I watched her face. I had already said it before, but fuck she was cute. “I completely forgot about that song, to be honest. I’ll take the jokes down a notch.”

“You’re rather cute, you know that?” I whispered, narrowing my eyes playfully. She blinked up at me, her cheeks now a beautiful shade of pink. “Like...right now, even through the dark, I can tell that you don’t know what makes you beautiful.”

Immediately, her shoulders started to shake as she let out a laugh. She reached up to rest her hang over her mouth as a few little giggles slipped from her lips. I laughed with her, but I mainly kept my eyes on her. The way her eyes crinkled up at the corner, the tears that formed on her water line as she laughed a little harder, the way she held her hand over her mouth like she was hiding something.

Maybe she was insecure about her smile?

She had one of those silent laughs, but every few seconds she would take a breath and she would let out a little squeak. We had to stop walking for a second and she turned a little, hiding her face in my shoulder. I don’t think she was trying to be flirty, it looked more like a habit than anything, like she was hiding her face from me. When she was done giggling at me, she reached up to wipe at the corner of her eye as if a tear had fallen out.

“That was….wow.” She rolled her lips in again, shaking her head at me. “You got me there, Styles.”

We started walking again and I remembered that I had to text Gemma and let her know to meet Beatrice’s friends downstairs. I cursed under my breath, reaching into my pocket to grab my phone. Beatrice didn’t say anything, but a few seconds later, I felt her arm slip around my back.

It was probably more comfortable for her than letting her arm hang between us, occasionally bumping into my thigh with each step we took together.

I welcomed it, returning her smile with one of my own. If she were my girlfriend, I would lean down to press a few kisses to her strawberry red lips right about now. Shooing away the thought, I lifted my phone to my ear.

“I can’t find Jeff.” She sounded frustrated. “I don’t know where he is.”

“Forget Jeff, he can handle himself.” I said, my brows pulling together. I didn’t want her getting caught up in a crowd on her own. “Just head back upstairs. There’s a girl named Claire downstairs waiting for you-”

“I’m not walking one of your fuck buddies upstairs.”

“She’s not my fuck buddy, dickhead.” I snapped at her, looking up to the sky in disbelief. “She’s Beatrice’s friend.”

“Oi, don’t call me dickhead you knob.” Gemma snapped back. “Who is Beatrice?”

“The girl, Gemma. The one we were just with downstairs.” I rolled my eyes, looking back down at Bea as she tried not to laugh at me. “Just bring her and their other friends up with you and be nice. It’s her birthday.”

“Oh, joy.” Gemma said. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye,” I said. “Love you.”

“Love you too, knobhead.”

I hung up the phone, rolling my eyes at my sister. I looked up, noticing that we had made it to the back corner of the bar where my section was reserved. I tightened my arm around Beatrice for a second, catching her attention. She had been too busy looking at the decor and the fairy lights around us. When we finally walked up to Frank, the bouncer assigned to my section, I gave him a curt nod.

He lifted the rope and I guided Beatrice into the little area with a sectional, a loveseat, and a large table with snacks and drinks in the middle of it all. I let go of her, walking over to the bucket of ice with drinks stuffed in it. I grabbed a bottle of water, turning back to hand it to her, but she looked like she had gone into shock again. I turned behind me, realizing what she was staring at. With a soft smile, I walked over to her, careful not to block her view of the city below.

“Holy fuck.” She whispered.

The lights were hitting her eyes and I swore it looked like there was a twinkle in the ocean of blue in her eyes. I watched as a soft breeze rustled up her red hair. A few strands stuck to her lips, catching in her lipstick, but she quickly reached up to brush them away. This view was nothing to me. It was one I had seen a million times. I had seen the view of this city from practically every single angle. I didn’t need to turn around to watch the lights of the city with childlike wonder. There was a new view that I wanted to commit to memory. The view of this beautiful stranger standing in front of me.

“This is so beautiful, Harry.” That was the first time I heard her say my name but it nearly knocked my feet out from under me this time. There was nothing muddling or overpowering her voice now.

“It really is, isn’t it.” I said softly. “It’s breathtaking.”

When she looked back at me, I think she realized I wasn’t talking about the city below us.

___________________________________

Bea’s POV

Harry Styles was charming.

He also couldn’t keep his eyes off of me and it was kind of shocking to me. How could someone so angelic and beautiful be fascinated by someone as ordinary as me. Every time I caught him looking at me, it took my breath away. Part of me was worried that he was only doing it to pull me into some trap. Maybe he was just looking to take someone home tonight. When my friends made it upstairs, especially my beautiful Claire, I was afraid he’d stop staring at me altogether.

If he wanted to take someone home, she was the girl for it.

She was drop dead gorgeous and they would look so good together. When we finally sat down on the soft outdoor sectional, Harry made sure that I was able to see the view of the city behind him. He cocked his left leg up on the sofa and dropped his arm over the back. Occasionally his fingertips would brush over the skin of my bicep and every time it sent chills up my spine.

“Where are you from?” Harry asked me softly. “You don’t sound like Los Angeles?”

“What do I sound like?” I cocked a brow up, intrigued by his statement.

“Charleston.” He said slowly, his own brows pinching together.

“I have family down there.” She nodded. “My dad was born and raised right outside of Charleston, but he moved to Virginia before I was born. That’s where I’m from.”

“Virginia.” He nodded. “Is that where you live now?”

“No, actually.” I cleared my throat, turning my body towards his. “Claire and I live right outside of Georgetown in Washington, D.C.”

“Claire is your roommate?” He asked.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “We met a few years ago. I actually used to be her boss.”

“Really?” Harry laughed softly. “What do you do?”

“Well, I was a manager at a hotel when I met Claire.” I started. “But I work in Sales now. I do a lot of the event planning and I deal with the catering team a lot.”

“Do you like it?” He asked softly.

That was a new question.

Most people just assumed that I loved my job. I really didn’t though. I had fallen into the hospitality industry as a teenager and after receiving two promotions before I turned twenty, I felt like I owed it to the company to stay with them. I hated my job, but I never let anyone know that. I was grateful to even have the opportunity to have a career most people didn’t have until their mid thirties. Harry’s eyes were trained on my face as I tried to think of the right words to say.

“No.�� That would do, I suppose. “I actually really hate it. But I’ve been with the company since I was eighteen. They’ve given me a lot of great opportunities. Most people take ten years to get where I’m at in a hospitality career.”

“What would you like to do?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” I gave him a soft smile. “I have a question for you now, Mr. Styles.”

“Ask away.” He giggled, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. He was so pretty and I didn’t know how I was even keeping it together.

“Why am I up here with you?” I asked softly, slipping my hands to my lap so that I could pick at the skin around my nails. It was a bad habit, but I was nervous and I couldn’t help it. “You could have given me my water and sent me back by now. Hell, you didn’t even have to bring me upstairs if we’re going there.”

Before Harry could answer my question, I heard my voice behind me.

“Beatrice Noelle!”

I snapped my head around to see Claire walking past the bouncer in front of Harry’s private section, our other friends following behind casually. I felt his fingers brush over my shoulder again and I glanced back at him.

He was trying to not smile, but I could tell he was amused by Claire.

“We aren’t finished with this conversation.” Harry whispered in my ear, pulling back with a soft smile.

He winked at me, shocking me further for a second before I remembered that everyone was right behind us. I stood up, shuffling in Claire’s direction with a dramatic pout on my lips.

“I’m so sorry, Claire.” I slipped my arms around her and she squeezed me tight. Claire was the same height as Harry and with my heeled boots on, my nose just barely brushed over her shoulder. “I’ve completely ruined your birthday! Some guy on the dance floor-”

“Harry told me.” She pulled back, placing her hands on my face just as Harry had done earlier. I let her inspect me with concerned eyes. “You’re alright though? No bumps and bruises on this lovely face of yours?”

“I’m fine.” I rolled my eyes, reaching up to swipe her hands off my face as Harry chuckled behind me. I shot him a look over my shoulder and he held his hands up in front of his chest as a defense. I turned back to Claire, giving her a soft smile. “We can head back down now if you want to Claire? I’m feeling better now.”

“You don’t have to go anywhere.” Harry said from behind me, rising to his feet as if he would have to physically stop me from leaving. I rolled my lips in, glancing behind me. I felt his hand play at the fabric of my dress before I felt the warmth of his hand on my side. “Please feel free to stay up here. There’s a nice view, it’s a lot less crowded, and there’s free alcohol.”

“We’ll stay.” Claire said before holding her hand out past me. “Claire Nelson, nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” Harry shook her hand before turning back to our other friends. “And everyone else?”

“I’m Matt.” He stuck his hand out, his shoulders squared up. “Thanks for taking care of Bambi. She’s definitely the clumsy one out of the group.”

“That’s the truth.” Chloe laughed behind Matt, her hand resting on his lower back as she waited for Harry to finish shaking the tall blonde hair. “I’m Chloe, Matt’s girlfriend.”

“Lovely to meet you both.” Harry smiled, turning to Tara next. “And you are?”

“I’m Tara,” She said casually, quickly shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You as well.” He said. “And last but certainly not least-”

“Jackson.” The most boisterous and positive of us all. “I just loved you in dunkirk. You did such a good job, I felt terrified when you were going off on that poor french boy.”

“Thank you so much,” Harry chuckled, his finger tightening on my waist as he settled back in place next to me. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”

“Thank you for inviting us up here,” Chloe said. “It’s stunning.”

“It’s not a problem at all.” We made eye contact and he shot me a wink before looking back at everyone. “Have a seat, make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you.” Claire plopped down next to my previous spot as Harry’s sister walked past the table and towards the love seat.

She dropped down to it, pulling out her phone immediately as Harry and I settled back in our original seating. I felt her eyes practically burning a hole in the side of my face as I looked up at Harry. His eyes were trained on me again and I felt my face heating up under his fond gaze.

“Gemma, let’s go grab a few drinks at the bar?” Harry suggested, glancing at his sister over his shoulder before looking back at me. He rested his palm on my knee and I shivered at the feeling of his cold rings on my skin. “What would you like?”

“I’m fine.” I said softly. “You don’t have-”

“Someone has been indulging in watermelon margaritas all night.” Claire spoke up from beside me, poking my side as I glared at her.

“And what would you like, Claire?” Harry chuckled looking back at my friend.

“Same thing.” She smiled. “Thank you, Harry.”

“Harry, you really don’t have to-” I started, but he interrupted me.

“It’s fine, Bea.” He gave me a soft chuckle. “Think I can swing a few drinks for the birthday girl and her friends without draining my bank account. Gemma and I will be back in a second. Just make yourselves at home.”

“I’m sure they will.” Gemma grumbled under her breath.

My whole body went cold as I looked over at his sister.

She was glaring at me and even though she shared the same eye color as her brother, her eyes were a cold contrast to the warm green of Harry’s.

“Gemma.” Harry snapped her name, standing up from his spot on the couch. “Knock it off.”

“Whatever.” She stood up, practically flying out of the private section without another word.

Harry looked down at me, his own cheeks flushing pink for once.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly. “She’s a bit overprotective sometimes.”

“I don’t blame her.” I mumbled, offering him a reassuring smile. I don’t know what came over me, but I reached up to squeeze his hand softly. “Don’t worry about it. I would be the same if my brother was a super famous rockstar.”

I winked at Harry and he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he squeezed my hand back.

“I’ll be right back.” He said. “Don’t miss me while I’m gone.”

“We’ll try not to.” Claire laughed, watching Harry as he slipped his hand from mine and walked away.

When he was out of earshot, Claire turned to me with wide eyes.

“What the fuck is happening?” She said under her breath. “That is Harry Styles! Are we...is this a fanfiction that we’re living in because it feels like it!”

“I really don’t know.” I whispered, leaning closer to her. “He just...he caught me before I fell and then he went back to find my purse and we were joking with each other in the elevator and he won’t stop looking at me Claire. I mean, proper puppy dog gazes. He’s so sweet.”

“He seems quite...smitten.” She smiled. “You do too. What was that thing with your hands a minute ago. You just reached up like it was yours to grab.”

“I know!” I leaned back into the sofa, rubbing my hands over my face. “It just kind of happened, like I didn’t even realize what I was doing until it happened.”

“I know one thing, that’s for sure.” She laughed, slipping her hand up to pinch at my cheek. “You two look damn cute together and I’m not letting you leave without his number. Unless you plan on leaving with him, that would be okay too.”

“Claire.”

----------------------------------------

Harry’s POV

“What is your deal?” I let out a frustrated sigh as Gemma and I walked towards the bar. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“You don’t even know her, Harry.” Gemma snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Neither do you!” I rolled my eyes, leaning against the bar. The bartender was helping someone else down at the other end of the bar, so I sat there patiently as my sister pouted.

“You just snapped at me!” She narrowed her eyes at me.

“You were being mean.” I sighed, holding my hands up. “You practically called her a groupie in front of her friends”

“Isn’t she?” Gemma snorted.

I snapped my head to look at her with a harsh glare.

“No.” I shook my head. “She’s actually very sweet. For the first time in a very long time, Gemma, I was just Harry. I was having fun with a very sweet girl and I wasn’t stressing about albums or tours or ex girlfriends who want to do me in. I was just having fun.”

Her face fell, but before she could speak, the bartender walked up to me.

“Hey, mate.” I gave him a smile. “Do you have any kind of cake here? My friend just told me it’s her birthday and I didn’t come prepared.”

“We have a triple berry trifle, it’s angel food cake with berries and cream.” The bartender said. “I can have a few slices sent over to your table if you’d like.”

“That would be perfect, we would need four slices.” I nodded. “Also, can you bring out champagne with the cake?”

“Yeah, no problem.” He nodded. “You want your usual as well?”

“Yes,” I nodded before listing off the drinks everyone had asked for.

“Absolutely.” He nodded. “Would you like me to delay the cake so you guys have time to finish these drinks up.”

“That would be perfect, thank you so much.” I nodded as he scooped some ice up.

“I’m sorry I didn’t give her a chance.” Gemma said from beside me. “Her friend was telling me that she’s a model and I just got a little skeptical about it all. You really don’t need another model in your life.”

“I really don’t. But Beatrice is really kind, Gem.” I laughed, tossing my arm around her shoulder before kissing the side of her head dramatically, making a lot of noise. She pushed her hand against my side, rolling her eyes. “I can take care of myself though Gem. I really like her so far and I just…just give her a chance.”

“Fine.” She grumbled. “Go take the pretty girl her drink. I’ll keep the friends distracted while you two flirt.”

“Thanks, G.” I chuckled. “I love you.”

“Love you too, knobhead.”

---------------------------

Bea’s POV

Harry had the bar send over cake for Claire and Mitch’s joint birthday.

When they set the cake down, I practically melted into a puddle of mush right then and there. He ducked down to whisper in my ear as the staff sang happy birthday to my best friend. He told me that everyone deserved cake on their birthday. When the champagne came over, Claire was so excited that she practically jumped out of her chair and launched at Harry for a hug. Right after cake, Jeffrey (I learned that he was Harry’s tour manager and close friend. He was the reason Harry went downstairs in the first place), Sarah (his drummer), and Mitch(his guitar player and close friend) joined us. They had been stuck downstairs, mingling with some old friends in the bar while we were upstairs.

As everyone made friendly conversation, my eyes started to grow heavy. It was nearing the end of the night and I wasn’t nearly drunk enough to be energetic. Instead, the alcohol that was in my system and the sound of Harry’s voice were lulling me to sleep. I tried my best to sit up straight, but at some point I started leaning against the back of the couch. It didn’t take long for Harry to slip his arm from the back of the couch to rest on my shoulders. After that, I was moving closer and closer to him with every breath I took.

“I think it might be time to call it.” Gemma let out a loud yawn from the loveseat, her legs tucked under her and her head lolled to the side. “I have to be at the airport so early tomorrow.”

“Yeah, it is really late.” Claire glanced over at me, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You’re practically asleep, aren’t you Bea? Someone’s gonna have to carry you out.”

“Pretty much.” I mumbled, reaching up to rub at my eyes with the knuckles of my fingers. “Been up for nearly 25 hours.”

“Before we part ways, I would like to have a toast.” Claire said softly. “Is that alright?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “Go ahead birthday girl.”

Claire reached for her half empty glass of champagne, lifting it in the air. Harry shifted closer to me, catching my body as I started to fall closer to him. I was cuddled into the crook of his arm now, our thighs pressed together and my head just below his chin, resting on his shoulder. I felt him turn his head and I could have sworn that he sniffed at the hair on my head before giving me a soft kiss.

It made my heart swell in my chest and when I looked up at him with a soft smile, he just returned it with tired eyes. Something came over me and I tilted my head, pressing a kiss to the stubbly skin of his jaw and then to the dimple carved in his cheek. I giggled when I pulled back, basking in the fact that I had shocked him with my action.

I turned back to Claire quickly, hoping that no one caught me kissing his cheek.

“I would like to raise a toast to my very best friend.” She said. “This morning, I was stuck at home wallowing about my birthday and getting old. Beatrice has been listening to me cry about it for months. She knew I wasn’t excited to turn twenty-eight, so she decided to plan this wonderful birthday trip to Los Angeles so that I could have fun on my birthday. This toast is for her, the most selfless and kind hearted woman that I know. Thank you, Beatrice, for giving me the best birthday of my life.”

“Aww, Claire Bear.” I leaned over, wrapping my arms around her. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“To Bea.” She said, clinking the tip of her glass to mine.

I leaned back towards Harry and he dropped his glass down, tipping the top towards mine as everyone continued to toast to me. They went back to their conversation in no time, leaving Harry and I on our own as we stared into each other’s eyes.

“To you.” He whispered, giving me a gentle smile. His dimple popped out again when he smiled and I had to resist the urge to lean forward and kiss it again. I looked down to his lips, my mind trailing off to the thought of them pressing into mine. “What?”

“I just…” I stopped myself. “Nothing.”

His brows crinkled and he gave me a confused smile.

I didn’t want this night to ever end.

------------------------------

Harry’s POV

Beatrice kept looking at my lips and I knew she wanted to kiss me.

I wanted to kiss her too. I wanted to kiss for so long that when I was done, she was breathless. I wanted her to pull away with swollen red lips, no lipstick, and flushed cheeks. There were a lot of other things I wanted to do to her, but I had to wipe those thoughts from my mind. This wasn’t a girl I was trying to take to my hotel room for a quick fuck.

This was a girl I really liked, a girl I was about to ask out on a proper date.

I could only hope that she was in town for a few more days. I knew that she brought Claire to L.A for her birthday, but I didn’t know when she was leaving. A small pang of hurt rang through my chest as I realized how my previous girlfriend’s must have felt when I showed up just to turn around and leave again. I never wanted Bea to leave my side.

It was a bit early to think like that, but it was how I felt about her.

“What?” I asked her as she looked down at my lips again. She licked over her bottom lip before tucking the fleshy part between her teeth.

“I just…” She trailed off, her eyes slipping back up to mine. “Nothing.”

“When do you leave?” I whispered as our friends talked around us.

“Tuesday.” It was Friday...technically Saturday right now. There was still time. “We fly out in the afternoon.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?” I asked.

“I’m not sure.” She said. “It’s up to Claire.”

That was a good thing.

If there was one thing I knew about Claire and Beatrice, it was that they would do anything to make the other one happy. That was clear in the way they talked to each other and about each other. I glanced over at Claire who was having a deep conversation with my sister and then back down to Beatrice. For a brief second, I saw black ink on the inside of her left arm. I reached down, using my thumb to turn her arm softly. She looked down with me, my eyes trailed over the insect tattooed on her forearm. I heard her clear her throat as she shifted her arm so that I could see it better.

How had I not noticed that earlier?

“It’s a honeybee.” She whispered softly. “Most people think it’s a fly because I didn’t put any color in, but it’s not.”

“I really like it.” I whispered. “It kind of reminds me of one of my own tattoos. Got a giant butterfly on my stomach.”

I plucked at my shirt around where my tattoo was.

“I’d like to see it someday.” She said softly.

I knew she meant it innocently, but I couldn’t help but imagine her settled on my thighs, her hands pressed into the tattoo as she moved her hips. I looked up at her, catching her eyes as she realized the double meaning to her statement.

She opened her mouth, ready to backtrack, but I stopped her.

“I wanted to know what you’re doing tomorrow because it’s my last show.” I said quickly. “I want you to come.”

“Really?” She sounded genuinely surprised by my offer and it took me by surprise.

Didn’t she know that I liked her?

I could hardly keep my hands off of her.

“Yeah,” I said. “Everyone can tag along if they’re interested.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” I nodded. “You can stand down in the barricades with Gemma and her boyfriend. He flies in tomorrow...well technically today. We can do dinner before the show and everything.”

“Like a date?” She asked, her eyes searching my face.

“I haven’t been on a proper date in a really long time.” I confessed. “I mainly just hang out with people and see where things go. I...it can be a date, but I don’t think it should be.”

Her face fell and I closed my eyes, realizing that I was avoiding her question.

“I don’t think it’s fair to call it a date because I’ll be on stage most of the night, not with you.” I said softly. “That wouldn’t be fair to you and very narcissistic of me.”

“Well…” She pursed her lips, a playful hint in her tone. “Tomorrow night we can just hang out. But...I think you deserve a proper date.”

“Is that so?” I let out a nervous giggle, my chest feeling lighter as she nodded. “Are you going to show me what a proper date is?”

“I would like to.” She said. “Will you let me?”

I realized then that I would do anything she wanted me to do if it meant that I was able to spend more time with her.

I was totally fucked.

------------------------

Bea’s POV

Harry had to say goodbye to me on the rooftop.

He seemed upset that he couldn't see me downstairs to the uber he ordered for me, but I understood. I wasn’t too keen on being crowded and harassed by paparazzi at this point in the night. My makeup was nearly gone, I was still tipsy, and I was extremely tired. Everyone else filtered out before us, Mitch and Sarah glued together behind Jeffrey and Claire and Gemma chatting away.

The plan was to ride the elevator down together and separate before we got to the door. Harry and I were still lollygagging by the couch, not ready to go back to the real world waiting for us downstairs. For the first time in my life, I wanted to go home with someone. I wanted to curl up next to Harry and listen to him talk for hours and hours.

“I don’t want to say goodbye.” Harry brushed his fingers over the warm skin of my cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind my ears. “I feel like we didn’t have enough time.”

“We have tomorrow.”

My hands were resting on his abdomen and I wondered if his butterfly tattoo was underneath my fingers. I looked up at him with a sad smile, letting him know that I felt the same way.

“You asked me earlier why I didn’t send you back downstairs,” He started, licking over his bottom lip as his eyes shifted away from mine for a second.

I could see that he was trying to find the right words to say and that sent a rush of butterflies through my stomach. I wondered for a moment if that’s what his tattoo meant. His eyes found mine again and I gave him a soft smile, reassuring him that I wanted to hear what he had to say.

“It’s okay.” I whispered, gripping the soft cotton of his shirt. “You can say it.”

“You’re very sweet and kind. It’s been a long time since someone has made me feel this way. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way. I feel so...giddy. I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. When I was talking to you, I didn’t feel like Harry Styles. I felt like Harry, a really nervous guy in front of a beautiful girl.” He confessed, his hands cradling my neck just as they did in the bar earlier. My eyes fell to his lips again and I couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Are you going to kiss me now?” I whispered. “Because I would really, really like it if you did.”

“Fuck yes.” Harry let out a soft chuckle before leaning forward to press his lips to mine.

I smiled into the kiss, slipping my hand up his chest and towards the back of his neck as he tilted my head up gently with his thumbs, deepening the kiss. Our friends cheered behind us, whooping and whistling as Harry tilted me back just a little. It took a few minutes for us to pull away, his teeth tugging at my bottom lip as I pulled back with my eyes still closed.

He let out a whine, pecking my lips a few more times before ducking his head down, his temple pressed to my cheek we both laughed, shoulders shaking gently. My cheeks were sore from the amount of smiling I had been doing and there was an ache in my core from laughing too hard.

“That was nice.” I massaged the nape of his neck softly with the tips of my fingers. “We have to go.”

“I can’t leave you after you kissed me like that.” He lifted his head, narrowing his eyes at me playfully as he dropped his hands from my neck to my sides. “Don’t go.”

“I have to. Besides, you need to rest.” I whispered as his fingers dug into my skin, holding me tighter. He pouted at me and my heart squeezed in my chest. Why was he so cute? “We’ll see each other in a few hours, remember?”

“S’too long.” His words were slurred now and his accent was thicker. I could tell how tired he was by the way he pulled me towards him. “But I guess you’re right.”

“Listen, I will separate you two myself if I have to.” Gemma’s voice was a lot closer now. Harry retaliated by slinking his arms around me, pulling me into a hug as if to say, ‘Go ahead and try to pull us apart’ to his sister. I laughed, letting my hands settle on his shoulders.

“Harry, you have to let go.” I whispered in his ear. “I promise I’m all yours tomorrow.”

“Must the women in my life always torture me?” He groaned, shifting his head so that he could press a kiss to my shoulder. “I guess I’ll let go.”

“Good boy, Harry.” Gemma cooed playfully and I could hear Claire laughing. “Let’s go, come on now.”

“M’not a bloody dog.” Harry pulled away from me, but his hand dropped down to mine. He laced our fingers together as he glared over at his sister. He glanced back down at me, his lips still settled in a pout. “See how she treats me? You’re gonna let her go home with me? I might not make it until tomorrow.”

I tossed my head back, laughing at his adorable and pouty face.

“Oh piss off you sap,” Gemma snorted. “Let’s get a move on. I better not turn around to see you two snogging again.”

-------------------------------

Harry’s POV

I tugged Bea along with me, walking towards the elevator behind the rest of our friends.

When we stopped just in front of the elevator, waiting for the doors to open, I heard my name from behind me. My eyes grew wide as Bea looked up at me and then behind us. She quickly turned back to me and gave me a soft smile. For a second, she tried to slip her hand from mine, but I tightened my grip, turning us both around as I smiled at Hannah. She was pressed into Greg’s side, her arm wrapped around his lower back and her eyes glassy.

“Hi again.” I said. “D’ya have a fun night?”

“We did.” She nodded, looking up at Greg. “Someone caught me by surprise.”

It was then that I saw it.

She stuck her hand out, my eyes automatically landing on the teardrop shaped diamond on her left ring finger. My eyes practically bugged out of my head and my throat went dry. She was going to marry Greg. The girl that I once loved, the girl that I still thought about quite often on a lonely night when I was in bed, was going to get married to someone that wasn’t me. I almost fell into a spiral, tongue tied and unsure of what to say to her, but I was quickly brought back to reality when I felt Bea squeeze my fingers, her soft voice filing in the uncomfortable silence that lingered.

“That’s a gorgeous ring, oh my.” She said softly, glancing at me from the corner of her eyes as if to say, ‘I’ve got this, don’t worry’. “And he proposed on such a beautiful night as well, how sweet of him. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

I looked away from Bea and back to Hannah to see that she was looking at me, her face scrunched up in confusion. She shot a quick glance at Bea and then back at me, waiting for an explanation or an introduction. She wasn’t going to get one, not right now.

“Congrats,” I smiled, holding a hand out towards Greg. “You’re a lucky man.”

“Thanks, Styles.” Greg shook my hand and when I pulled away, the elevator bell dinged.

We all piled into the elevator. Bea and I tucked away in the back corner as the doors to the closed shut in front of us. Gemma looked over her shoulder at me a few times, but I shook my head at her, silently asking her not to say anything.

“Are you okay?” Bea asked, reaching up with her free hand to touch my arm.

“Yeah.” I turned my head towards Bea, flashing her a soft smile as I squeezed her fingers. “Just fine.”

For the first time in a long time, I meant it.

-----------------------------

Bea’s POV

Harry left me at the bottom of the elevator, slipping down the hallway with Gemma and Jeff before everyone else. Saying goodbye wasn’t the best part, but the soft kiss that came before he walked away was sickeningly sweet. Gemma seemed to warm up to us at some point in the early hours of the morning and she left me with a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. Claire and Harry were talking in hushed tones while I bid Gemma goodbye, but when I looked up at them to try and catch what they were talking about, he just shot me a quick wink.

I gave him a playfully pout and he gave me one of his girlish giggles with crinkled eyes and smile lines. The more I thought about it, the more it hurt. Tomorrow night - or tonight, rather - I would have to share that smile with hundreds of people that adored him the same, if not more than I did.

Watching Harry walk away sent a pang of hurt and frustration through my heart, but Claire was quick to swoop in, standing where Harry had been all night.

“You’ll see him again in a few hours, don’t pout like a child.” She slipped her arm through mine, hooking it around so that we were linked together. “Let’s go have some greasy late night pizza and watch a movie before we crash, sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

We barely made it through Notting Hill.

Claire passed out on my shoulder about ten minutes into the movie while Tara and Jackson passed out on the floor below us. Matt and Chloe had gone straight to bed when we got back to the airbnb. I, however, couldn’t find it in me to close my eyes and go to sleep. There were so many thoughts racing through my head that it was spinning as I tried to focus on Hugh Grant. When was the last time I got so swept up in a guy that I completely abandoned all of my fears?

There wasn’t one moment with Harry where I felt out of place or scared to act on my emotions.

Normally I was hesitant and observant, overthinking every little thing until I made an official decision about someone. I had never been so...affectionate with someone that I had just met. Part of me was worried by my actions and by Harry’s as well. Was this a normal thing for him? Did he do this regularly? Is that why Gemma didn’t want us on the rooftop? I had started chewing my nails at some point, my nerves taking over any good feelings I previously had.

Maybe I just needed to tread carefully tomorrow.

After covering Claire up with the throw blanket on the back of the couch, propping her head up on the throw pillow, I tiptoed over Tara and Jackson on the floor before finding my way to my room.

Carefully, I shut the door behind me, rolling my lips in and wincing when the floor creaked below me. I was so tired and I didn’t want to wake Claire up. She would want to talk more about Harry and my feelings and I just was far too tired to talk anymore. I slipped into bed, settling my phone somewhere on the empty side as I snuggled in. My brain was stuck on a particularly lewd memory of the evening.

I had been trying to steer my brain away from the dirty thoughts I was having, but it was no use.

Harry’s cold rings contrasting with my hot skin was something I couldn’t shake. I could still feel his large palm on my leg, resting there like that’s where it belonged. The song ‘Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off’ wasn’t a completely inaccurate account of me and tequila. The burning liquid did something to me that I couldn’t quite explain. I could taste the tequila on Harry’s lips during our kiss, the bitter liquid masking the sweet taste of his kiss. He convinced me to toss back a few shots, and now here I was. I flopped onto my back with heavy eyes and a frustrated groan. I just wanted to sleep.

I cursed myself for not bringing any toys along with me. I might not have been sexually experienced, but I was a human being with needs. Masturbating, to me, was more fun than any sexual experience I did have. The two experiences I had with another person left me unsatisfied. An ex-boyfriend of mine that I didn’t date for long flashed through my mind for a second, but he was wiped away when I remembered the sound of Harry’s laughter in my ear. At first I was upset at the lack of vibration and the full feeling of my favorite toy between my legs, but that feeling vanished when I closed my eyes and Harry flashed through my brain.

The column of his throat, covered in a few droplets of sweat from the humid Los Angeles air sent my hips bucking up into my own hand. The sound of his husky voice in my ear had me slipping my fingers as deep as I could. The one thing that sent me over the edge was his eyes. The sultry and mischievous glint hidden behind beds of green had me clenching around my fingers and biting at my lower lip as an involuntary moan slipped. I had never finished so fast before.

When I finished, my chest heaving as I opened my eyes in the dark room, my phone buzzed from somewhere on the bed. I didn’t reach for it immediately, not wanting to break the hazy spell I was still under. If I kept my eyes closed, Harry would still be there in my fantasy, kissing me softly. When I finally found my phone, I noticed that I had a text from Harry. He had put his number in my phone when we were still on the roof, adding a few berry emojis next to his name. I questioned about it and he gave me a soft shrug before stabbing a few of the berries in the cake he had delivered for Claire.

He held his fork up with a smirk, nodding his head as a gesture for me to lean forward and take a bit of the berries resting there. I giggled when I thought about how I leaned forward, wrapping my mouth around the fork. Harry shifted in his seat after that, putting the cake far away as he watched me revel at the taste of tart berries in my mouth. I had never been that bold or flirty in front of a man before, but he drew it out of me somehow.

When I opened the text message he sent me, my breath caught in my throat.

‘I don’t know what happened between us tonight, but I do know that I don’t think I could ever go without you after the way you kissed me. Have sweet dreams, honeybee. Xoxo H’

A smile pulled at the corners of my mouth and I rolled over, letting out a squeal into my pillow.

Harry Styles had me under some kind of spell that I never wanted to be free of.

-------------------------------------

Harry’s POV

Gemma pestered me the entire car ride home.

She wanted to know everything about Bea before she could officially form an opinion about her.

So far, she liked Bea’s friend Claire. After a rocky start, the two quickly began chatting about a common interest that I had no knowledge of. When we finally made it back to my house, I was thankful that she was nearly asleep in the passenger seat of the car. Waking her up wasn’t going to be fun, but I knew she would have a proper strop with me tomorrow if I left her in the car.

After a few choice words, Gemma was off and up to the guest room she considered to be her own personal room. I went about fixing myself a cup of tea with more honey then necessary. There was a small scratch in the back of my throat and I really hoped that I wasn’t coming down with a cold. That was most likely the case though. When I was in the band, I would fall ill after every tour, all of the travel and germs finally catching up with my body.

Part of me wanted to call Bea. I just wanted to make sure that she made it home safe. Part of me also wanted to know if she still wanted to talk to me after tonight. Did it even mean anything to her? When I finally made it up to my bedroom, the weight of the world started to weigh down on my shoulders. It had been a long day and all I wanted was to close my eyes for a little bit.

I put my phone in the bathroom to charge just so I didn’t pick it up again after I got comfortable. Beatrice was fine. I didn’t need to text or call. I had to trust in the process. Hannah had always told me before that being with me was difficult. There was never really time for her to process the things that she felt for me when I was always there, checking up on her.

I didn’t want to overwhelm Bea.

I wanted this one to last.

As I started to drift off into a light slumber, images of her started to play in my mind like a movie. A smile slipped onto my face as I shifted around in bed, trying to get comfortable. I could still smell her perfume on my shirt from where she rested against me. The soft rose scent sent a message to my brain that I couldn’t control, my cock twitching in my boxers as a response. It didn’t take long for me to get hard, a desperate and frustrated groan slipping from my lips as I flopped onto my back. Jerking off to my memories of Beatrice felt cheap and wrong. She deserved more.

“Fucking ridiculous.” I grumbled under my breath, dipping my hand down to my boxers. When I slipped my hand over my cock, my cold rings caused me to hiss out, I let the movie of Beatrice play out in my head despite my previous thoughts. “Don’t even know her, Harry. But you’re still jacking off to her, aren’t you?”

I brushed my thumb over the tip of my cock, my heartbeat picking up as I thought about her sweet voice. I wanted her to be here right now, whispering in my ear, telling me what to do. I wanted her soft hands on my skin, brushing her fingertips over my chest as she kissed my jaw. I should have taken her home with me. Deep down, I knew that even if I asked she wouldn’t have come home with me.

There was something guarded about her. I couldn’t blame her. This wasn’t a relationship you could just dive into. I came with a lot of baggage. As the memory of her lips wrapping around my fork flashed through my mind, I bucked my hips up, cum dripping down over my fingers and pooling around the base of my cock.

With a groan, I threw my covers off my legs before walking into my bathroom. I stripped my boxers off, tossing them to the dirty clothes hamper before I walked over to my sink. After wiping myself clean, I reached for my phone. Fuck it. I wanted her to know what I thought of her. It was selfish of me, but I wanted to make her want me the same. I wanted her in my life and I this time, I wasn’t scared to make it happen.

I wasn’t going to let this girl slip through my hands.

#honeybee #back to the start #part one of the series is redone #woo #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles x ofc #harry styles original fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry writing #harry smut #harry one shot #harry fic #harry

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klaineaddictsfanficrecs · 3 years

Text

Fic Name: Light Up the Sky

Fic Author(s): Misscriss2012

Fic Summary: AU. Kurt and Blaine meet on the Fourth of July.

Part of the Klaine Summer Fic Challenge on Tumblr. Prompts filled: Fireworks, Pool, Picnic, Biking, Boardwalk, Beach, Concert, Camping

Fic Trope(s): Blind Blaine, Summer Klaine, Age Gap Klaine

Fic Length (Word Count): 70,853 words

Fic Rating: Mature

Fic Warnings or Triggers: Age Gap (Blaine is 17 and Kurt is 27- Everything is consensual and has parental approval.)

Fic Status: Complete

My Review:

I'm going to address the elephant in the room first, and address my warning. Usually, I do not read age gap fics where one of them is underage. However, the age of consent in Ohio is 16, and it's 17 in New York (the two states where the story takes place), and everything is consensual. They also have parental approval. This is something that is personal for me because my husband and I have a 6 year age gap, and because of the laws in my state, if we would've had sex before I was 18, even if I consented, it could've been considered statutory rape. My mom actually brought this up (and I threw it back to her that we were not sexually active until we were married after I turned 18.) I know that laws vary, especially in the states, so I wanted to make sure that I address this. I am in no way condoning or criticizing the relationship in this story. However, I have to address it because I know a few people that read this fic may be teenagers. This is a work of fiction, and as I said, everything is consensual, and the parents are aware that the relationship becomes sexual, and they approve of it. Okay, that is all on this topic.

About this story, this is the first fic that I read by this author, and I absolutely fell in love with her work. I subscribed to it as she was publishing, and I eagerly awaited updates because it is so well written. There are so many reasons that I love this fic, so I'm just going to mention a few of them.

First and foremost, Blaine is precious. Even though he's blind and is unhappy with his life at the beginning of the story (his parents are extremely overprotective at first), he has an amazing sense of humor and an adventurous spirit. He hates being treated differently because of his disability, but he also has to overcome a lot of challenges because of it, especially since he hasn't always been blind. In addition, because of his parents' overprotective nature, he has to get used to doing things for himself. I have to say that I love how the other characters encourage and support him in this.

I love Kurt in this because of the way he supports Blaine. I won't say that he doesn't screw up in this fic because he makes more than one major mistakes as he is learning to adjust to being in a relationship with a blind man. But what I love about him is that he doesn't write Blaine off because of his disability, and he supports him completely.

I have to say that I love both Kurt's and Blaine's families in this, especially the fathers. Burt is just an incredible dad (in canon and in this story, and Marcus Anderson (Blaine's father.) is amazing. I was worried at first because Blaine's parents seem to ignore the fact that he's gay, and I feared that his parents would be homophobic. Fortunately, they both become supportive of their son. But it's Marcus that I deeply respect in this story because he realizes his mistakes with his son and works to rectify them, and then helping his wife realize that they have to stop treating him like a child. I also have to give props to Kurt and Burt for that though because they point this out, and Marcus realizes that they are right.

Another thing that I love about this story is that the author's versions of Kurt and Blaine are flawed (as any person is) and she treats them like people. This isn't written as a fairy tale (although it ends beautifully), and that's what I love about it. Oftentimes, I read fics where I'm completely aware that people don't act or talk like that in real life. However, I feel like I'm a fly on the wall watching this story play out because it feels so real. It's not overly dramatic. It just feels authentic.

I feel it's important to discuss Blaine's disability, and the way all of the characters handle it, (Even though they didn't all handle it well at first). I feel like I can completely relate because I have a child with a disability (both my child and I have Asperger's) and I work with students who have disabilities (ranging from autism, cerebral palsy, and blindness. Most of the time, people with disabilities want to be treated with empathy, not sympathy. I really love how the author really addresses this by telling this story from multiple perspectives, specifically Blaine's. I just want to hug the author for really addressing these issues, and I love that by the end of the fic, Blaine is confident and happy, and his family and loved ones are so supportive. It's just beautiful. This story makes me cry like a baby every time that I read it.

This might be my longest review yet, and I could say so much more. However, I think it's best to just let you see for yourself how beautiful this fic really is. So, go on. Just have a box of tissues handy.

Fic Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7327432/chapters/16644001

#Trope disabled Blaine #Trope Blind Blaine #Trope Age Gap #Trope Summer Klaine #Klaine Fic Recommendation #Klaine Fanfic Rec

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gaitwae · 4 years

Text

i miss you •||• Loki x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2847

“You can’t just expect me to be okay with this!” you shout. You were arguing again, like always. You had been partners for three years, now, and even more than that, inseparable. It was often hard to stay away, no matter how angry you could be at him.

“And why not?” he roared at you. You were outside of your office. Loki had walked in with a sullen expression, telling you his wish. It angered you immediately. “I can’t keep putting you in danger like this! We’ve become too emotionally attached. I’m asking Fury for a new partner.”

You bite your lip, clenching you fists so tight your nails could draw blood. “You should at least consider my feelings, Loki!” You step closer, almost daring him to say it. Say what he always says.

“I have to keep you safe!” There it was. The same excuse. One that never really mattered in the end because you had more training and were technically the superior agent. You roll your eyes.

“Why? Why can’t you just deal with me getting in the occasional fight? Why is it such a big deal if I get hurt or if I go out alone?” you ask, seeing his eyes darken with rage but soften with fear. He opened his mouth, but no sound came, so you continued. “I’m one of the best agents S.H.E.I.L.D. has! I can do the dirty work! I’m not a baby, Loki.”

“Yes! That’s why I worry so much!” he argued. “S.H.E.I.L.D. always has us go on the most deadly missions, and you’re so idiotic as to think you’ll make it out without a scrape! I—We almost lost you, yesterday. I can’t be partners with someone like you.” You never fell for his silver tongue, but you could tell he was trying this time.

The statement hurt tremendously, but this was the man who came into your apartment for no reason (and invitation) and let you theorize with him in the middle of the night about missions and suspects. He cuddled you when you watched movies together, mumbling jokes in your ear when a character did something unbelievably stupid. He showed you his Jotun form and occasionally called you “Princess (Y/N)” instead of “Lady” just to tease. You trusted him above all others and vice versa.

The man who randomly bought you things while undercover and begged you if he could keep souvenirs of the little things. He took pictures of you after you bought him a camera, even against your wish not to. He could still end up being the closest to you like he always was. But you wanted to be his partner. No matter how much you complained about it.

“That makes two of us,” you spit. “How could I ever be partners with the God of Mischief and Lies? After all, he is just a monster.”

His eyes harden. “You don’t mean that,” he whispers. “You know I care about you. So much. But being partners any longer will jeopardize our work.” He swallowed thickly. You scared him, you know it. You hurt him. He tries to grab your hand. Rare moments he held your hand. You pull your hand away, still upset.

“How? Agents need a bond of trust, Loki!” you tell him. “Other agents are jealous of our connection, how well we work together.”

Loki POV

Jealous of our connection. No. Other agents were jealous of me, how close I was to (Y/N). They all wanted her, cherished her. She was such a sweet, funny, caring woman. I was a monster indeed. It was an odd pairing, and I could even see why others hated me. But one cannot help whom they are in love with. And who did I love? Her.

“Learn to trust someone else, then,” I suggest, rather rudely. “After all, this monster could betray you.” I used the same tone of voice as she did, mocking her some.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened with realization. “Oh, Loki,” she sighs. I try to keep my cold glare, but I look down to the floor. She walks over to me, putting her hands on my shoulders. One gently reached up to cup my face. I catch it and hold it close. “You aren’t a monster. I didn’t mean that, you know I didn’t.” I nod.

“I know. I know, (Y/N). But look at us. We . . . we should consider how any more losses would affect us. And this—this—this whatever it is needs to be talked about too.” I set a hesitant hand on her waist. “It seems like whenever we are around each other, the world goes from being a dark place to—”

“The Fourth of July?” (Y/N) suggested. After celebrating the ridiculous holiday with her, I understood what she meant. The fireworks, the booms, the thrill. I nod. Though neither of us are smiling, I feel we both understand how happy we are to have each other.

We’re still for a while, she against me and I holding her. Neither one speaks. And for once I’m glad to not be able to use my silver tongue. She finally looks up at me, but a pang runs through my heart.

“I cannot stay as your partner. What would happen if you were hurt because of my ignorance?” I ask her. “I care too deeply to watch you in danger, (Y/N). This isn’t a decision out of spite or selfishness. It’s out of love. We’d become dangerous if the other was in trouble.”

She looks reluctant with her answer. “You’re right, Loki.” She sighs. “You’ll still come over, right? Watch movies and stuff?”

“Darling, I’ll even sleep over and make you that cake you love, with popcorn.” I laugh, even though I’m completely serious. “I’ll brush your hair and play board games. Nothing we wouldn’t do on a day off.”

She smiled softly. “Really?”

“I promise. I will make the time for you.” I take her other and lace our fingers together. She grinned at me. I give her a soft smile. “We just . . . won’t work on the same part of projects anymore.”

Her smile drops. “I know. I know how much I say I’d take another partner all the time, but I don’t want one.” She pouts and looks away from me. I don’t know how to tell her I want to be her partner in more than work.

“It’s the best option,” I say, slow and steady but also sadly. “I promise nothing will change between us.”

She gave a slow, tiny nod. “Okay. Okay,” she says. “But if you don’t go now, I might make you stay.” She looks at me with her lovely eyes. A firm stare. Right now, I’m sure, more than ever, I’m in love with her.

I let go, wishing to kiss her, care for her, but I rush off to find Fury.

Your POV, four months later

Most people at parties have fun. You usually did. Usually. And this year, the Halloween party was at the top of its game. Everyone was looking astonishing. Your costume? A fairy. His costume? A pirate. He sounded the part along with looking it.

But you weren’t having fun.

You saw him with his new partner, Yvonne Cathery. He was laughing with her, probably at something she had said. With her lovely blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She was a typical blonde: very pretty, very funny, and usually everybody’s type. And you felt hatred for her.

Your new partner, Charlotte Mendon, looked at you with a sort of worry. Her dark hair and eyes made her look pretty, but you could care less how she looked. She was one of your best friends, next to Loki and Natasha—well, just Nat now.

“Honey, you okay?” she asked. You shake your head, furious with Loki. He was busy, yes, and he was still coming over and doing everything he promised. The both of you were even close to sharing a kiss, a few months ago. (On a dare, but who cared? He looked eager enough to you.) Still, he wasn’t as close as he could have been. “It’s Yvonne, again, isn’t it?”

“I want to kill both of them, at this point,” you growl. You tense up more when Loki looks over at you. He smiled even brighter, waving. His face was tinted red, but you assumed that was because of his pretty partner. You glare. He looks confused and arches an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong?” he mouths. You point to him. He looks behind him at first, then points to himself. You nod. “Yvonne too?” he mouths more. You nod again. He looks dumbfounded and grins evilly. Yvonne asks him something and he makes an excuse. She pouts and attempts to seduce him into staying. He gets comfortable, walking away.

Toward you.

You light up like a Christmas tree. Why? Because he’s moving so fast, he’s running people over. His eyes are bright and so is his smile, but just as mischievous. Yvonne looks absolutely offended, and somehow, that’s okay with you.

He lifts you, making you let out a noise. He spins you. You try so hard not to laugh and stay angry at him. He sets you down and kisses your cheek, making you blush. “Loki!” you roar.

He pulls back, hands on your waist. “I knew you were jealous, I knew it!” he says, kissing your whole face. His grip was shaky, and you turned your fiery face to where he was sitting. Four whole bottles of hard, white alcohol. Was it a hundred proof? Oh no. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing: He was drunk.

“I-I’m not jealous,” you say, seeing Charlotte smirk. You were, and there was no use lying to Loki. He holds you close, cradling your head and giving a small laugh. You blush furiously, looking down on the ground.

“You are! You are!” He lets out a chuckle and goes to kiss your lips but you were quicker. You put your fingers to his mouth, pushing him away from you, just a tad. He looks surprised at the gesture.

“Whoa, Loki-Doki. Hold your drunk horses. No more kisses. I’m not jealous and you’re in my space. Not to mention ruining my wings; they took weeks to make! Move,” you say sternly. He pouts and lets go of you, though you could tell he wanted to love on you more. (Not that you didn’t like it, but he didn’t need to know that.)

“You’re still jealous of her,” he says, words slurred, a small smirk appearing and disappearing just as fast. “But you’re wrong about our relationship . . . she isn’t even someone I can . . . tolerlareate? Tolerate. I want you!”

“Loki,” you warn. He pouts more. To be fair, it was adorable. But it wasn’t like Loki to drink himself drunk. You press your lips together, using a softer tone. “Tell me what’s wrong, baby?” This was a tone you reserved for emergencies. Like nightmares and on the verge of tears. You were pretty sure this counted as an emergency.

He looks at you with worry and sadness, lips wobbling. “Come back to me. I miss staying up late with you and cooking for you and seeing you every second of the day. To be undercover and shower you with gifts I know you never saw the point in having, because what you wanted you already had and taking you out to dinner. I’m ready to be your partner, again, (Y/N).”

You sigh. “It’s only been a few months, Loki.” They way that he had described being partners . . . it had you worrying that he might just want more than that. You shivered slightly, your heart melting at how sweet he could be.

“But I miss you too much. I worry about you all the time, (Y/N)!” He holds your hands close to his chest, pleading silently. His heart was beating faster than you ever heard it before. It was getting really hard to say ‘no.’ “I almost went off base because you shut off your com. I wasn’t even supposed to be listening to it!”

You blushed. You knew he cared about you . . . but, dang, you were never going to hear the end of this from Charlotte. You look over to her, seeing her put a hand on her heart.

“So cute!” she giggled quietly. You roll your eyes a tad. You look back to Loki, cupping his face. You plant a kiss on his cheek, standing up on your tippiest tippy toes momentarily.

“Okay. Fine. Fine. When you’re thinking clearly again, we’ll talk about it over dinner or something,” you tell him, seeing his eyes light up again. “Got it?”

He beams and nods. “Thank you!” he says, hugging you tightly and kissing your cheek, again. By now, you’re sure you look like the human tomato, even if the room was dark.

“Go get some water, okay? I’m worried about you.” You give him a soft, worried smile. He nodded. You squeeze his hand, pushing him away gently. He squeezes your hand back, holding on as long as he can. It seemed that drunk Loki was a lot more playful than usual Loki.

Charlotte smirks. “Is it just me, or did he seem really touchy-feely tonight?” she asked, her mermaid costume glittering as she sat next to me. I nod.

“He rarely ever hugs me, unless we’re watching something. And even then, he’s not holding me close and teasing or kissing me.” You look back to where he went. The water dispenser. He was drinking out of a paper cup. “Kissing me when drunk. . . . Definitely not what I was expecting. Can you imagine him doing it clear-headed?” You look to Lotte.

She nods. “Yeah, but you might have to dare him or something. Nothing much.” I glare at her. “What?” she asked.

“Seriously, Charlotte. Come on. He doesn’t like me like that —” She cuts you off with a laugh.

“Of course he does, (Y/N), don’t be ridiculous. You see the way he looks at you compared to others. How far he’s been willing to go for you, never mind he ignores what he did right after.” She gives you a light laugh. “I’ll bet my bottom dollar he’s head over heels.”

“You shouldn’t bet that,” you say, giving her a sneaky smile. “You might lose it.” Charlotte rolls her eyes.

“The point is, you might have a wish of yours come true. Why is it so hard for you to believe?” she asks you.

You run your hands through your (h/l), (h/c) hair. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up, Charlotte.” You give a melancholy sigh. “What if it’s just the alcohol talking?”

She gives you a reassuring smile. “Trust me, (Y/N). Just this once.”

-----

“Agent (L/N). Where are you going?” Phil Coulson says behind you, jumping you a bit. “You haven’t been properly introduced to your new partner.” His words are playful.

“Insulting, isn’t it?” Loki says, his voice coming from next to Phil. “One might think she wants to work alone.”

You turn around to face the sleek, blue eyed god. You grab his tie and smirk, pulling him down some to shrink the height difference. “As I recall, you were the one begging for me to come back. Now that we work together again, where’s my thanks?”

Phil makes a light laugh. “I see you’re properly acquainted. How about I leave you two alone?” He winks and walks off. “Don’t do anything Fury would catch!”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever. It’s not like we will.” You look back at the god of Mischief. “Did you really mean everything you said to me at the Halloween party?”

“Of course, (Y/N). I admit, I lost a little self control, but everything was true.” He sets a hand on your waist and pulls you close, smirking softly. “And, um, you’ve never called me ‘Loki-Doki’ or ‘baby’ before.”

You blush. “You were drunk,” you say, but it’s still a horrid excuse. You move your hand from his tie to his shoulder, resting your other hand on his inner elbow.

“And? I call you Princess and Lady and darling and sweetheart and love all the time. Whether or not you’re drunk.” He smirked. “When are you going to admit you’re in love with me?”

“I . . . I—” You stop, blushing. “When are you going to admit you’re in love with me?”

He grins, pulling you even closer. You make a soft noise of surprise. He cups your face and kisses you deeply, and for a second, you’re not sure how to respond. He was kissing you. He was kissing you! HE was kissing YOU! He seems to lose some confidence, confused. You kiss him back, though, forgetting that’s what kissing was.

He kissed you a little harder, definitely with more excitement. You wrap your arms around his neck. He pulls away. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you say.

#Loki x y/n #Loki x reader #Loki #Loki laufeyson #Loki odinson #Mcu #Marvel #Gaitwae writes

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scatter-the-stars · 4 years

Note

Hi! I have a prompt. Kurt and Blaine hate each other but somehow can't stop having sex.

They’re not fuck buddies. Fuck buddies would imply that they like each other. And liking each other would mean being civil in any way to one another. No, what they are is fuck enemies. They are two people who hate each other’s guts, but seem to keep falling into bed and having the hottest hate sex that is born from, not from fighting, but from despising each other. That anger and hatred they have for each other fueling their intense, hot fucking.

If he could change things, make it to where he doesn’t come the hardest because of Blaine Anderson’s cock, he would. Because the last person he wants to give him the kind of pleasure he’s been experiencing this past year shouldn’t be at the hands of the guy whose life he would happily watch fall apart.

This wasn’t even meant to happen. It was a stupid fucking drunken mistake he made last year at a Fourth of July party. Only an inebriated him would let Blaine bend him over the arm of their friend’s couch in the pool house and fuck him until he screamed so hard he went hoarse and ruined the material of the couch. Never would a sober him spread his legs for someone like Blaine.

That’s what he thought. What he wanted to believe.

Until a two weeks after that first time when he let Blaine fuck him up against his front door while he was perfectly clear-headed and thinking straight. That moment was born of weakness, and being horny. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Blaine had fucked him. Couldn’t stop his traitorous body from being affected and remembering the way Blaine made him feel. How his cock felt inside him.

Blaine knew too. Knew what he wanted as he watched him with a knowing smirk the entire night they spent with their friends having a small get together.

He tried to deny it. Not only to Blaine, but to himself. Tried to buy the lie he told Blaine when he confronted him in his kitchen and said You want my cock again with a grin on his sinful lips.

His reply of Fuck you was said with such seething vehemence, that for a moment he believed the anger he put into the words. Believed he could forget what Blaine gave him. But his body betrayed him when Blaine roughly grabbed his chin and yanked him close until he could smell the cologne on his skin and the red wine on his breath.

Blaine’s fingers on his chin roughly dug in without a thought or care to the pain he was causing. He saw the enjoyment in Blaine’s eyes when he let out a little whimper when he squeezed hard enough to elicit a sharp stinging pain. He hated him for causing him pain. But hated himself even more for enjoying it; for wanting more.

The words I can make you moan like a whore again harshly spoken with cocky pride into his ear had him seeing red. Not at the spoken words of truth. But at his body instantly reacting and desperately wanting just that. At his stomach clenching and cock throbbing.

He was proud of himself for managing to say I don’t want shit from you without skipping a beat, or with a shaky voice.

Blaine saw through his bullshit, though. Pushed him up against his front door with no resistance after all their friends had left and fucked him until he came around his cock twice.

That night, Blaine fucked him to six Earth-shattering orgams that left him angrily sated. And pissed off that he wanted more from the guy he loathed completely.

That night started what they share now.

They fuck. That’s all it is. All they want from the other. Barely show any civility to the other while it’s happening. It’s only about getting off. About scratching that itch the other seems to be the only one that knows how to perfectly scratch.

Wild animals in heat is how he would describe it. How he sees what they share. There’s no deeper meaning to when they fuck other than to achieve what they want.

No one knows. None of their friends or family. Not even the guys they both tried dating in the past year. Both of whom who were quickly dismissed from their lives when they realized they couldn’t get from those guys what the other gave them.

He can still remember the proud and smug smile on Blaine’s lips when he showed up at his door two months into being with James. Glared at him while stepping into his place. Bit and clawed at his skin to show his anger while he fucked him so good that he screamed out his release in a way James never came close to making him do.

Blaine fucked him five times that night. Smacked his ass in such a rough way that it seemed as if he was punishing him for attempting to try and find what he knew only he could give him. Filthily whispered into his ear Only my cock can make you feel this good while ramming inside him.

He broke up with James a week later.

The proud smugness that Blaine wore in that encounter was returned in kind when he saw him try to attempt to be with a guy called Cody. Wore it without guilt when Blaine showed up on his doorstep a few weeks into his relationship. Growled into his ear My ass is the only one that squeezes your cock perfectly while he angrily fucked him.

He wasn’t entirely sure what Blaine was angry about. Didn’t really care. Assumed he hated that his relationship with Cody wasn’t going to work out. Whatever the reason, he gladly took the punishment Blaine doled out on his ass repeatedly that night. Enjoyed every orgasm Blaine gave him.

They fuck. It’s nothing more and nothing less.

Currently gripping two rungs of his staircase as Blaine fucks him, ass already sore from the two other times earlier, he lets out an obscene moan when Blaine sinks his teeth into his shoulder and roughly bites down on his flesh. His ass grips Blaine’s cock as pain shoots through him.

Sweat dampens and beads over his skin. His heart pounds and lungs try to take in breathfuls of air. His body aches from the two times they’ve already fucked. But hungers for the orgasm Blaine is working him up to. Chases after it like a dog chasing a fox; desperate to catch it and bask in the joy of catching it.

Blaine covers his hands on the rungs. Squeezes tight as he rolls and grinds his hips into his ass. Gently bites along his shoulder to his ear. Nips at the lobe. Growls, “This ass missed my cock.”

Kurt turns his head and glares at Blaine. “I haven’t missed shit from you.”

Blaine smirks and chuckles. “Then why did you come so fucking quick the first time I fucked you?”

“Fuck you!” No way will he ever admit that he missed Blaine in any capacity.

Kurt cries out when Blaine slams inside him so hard there’s a hint of pain that follows the movement.

“You’re a mouthy little shit, you know that?” Blaine grabs a handful of his hair and yanks his head back. Drags his teeth along the exposed column of his throat. Bites at his jaw. Growls in an angry voice, “Maybe I should shove my cock into your mouth to shut you the fuck up.”

He narrows his eyes at the guy he simultaneously wants to punch and beg to fuck him harder.

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” he snarls in reply.

Blaine lowers his mouth to his. Not to kiss him. But to bite his lower lip. Sinks his teeth into his soft flesh deep and hard enough to draw blood.

The metallic taste that hits his tongue when he runs it along his abused lip thrills and excites him in a way he would never have anticipated before he started screwing Blaine.

He clenches around Blaine at the taste.

Eyes screw shut and he holds in a moan when Blaine runs his tongue along his lip; licks away the drop of blood gathered there.

For a brief moment he imagines what it would be like if Blaine covered his mouth for a kiss. How would it feel? How would it taste? Would Blaine’s mouth fit perfectly against his own the way his cock fits perfectly in his ass? Would it feel as good as when Blaine fucks him?

He lets himself wonder for a few seconds before dismissing those ridiculous thoughts.

He doesn’t need Blaine’s kisses. Doesn’t need those questions answered. All he ever needs or wants from him is what he’s already getting.

They don’t kiss. Never have and never will. Because kissing is intimate and personal in a way they don’t want to include in the fucking they do. Kissing is crossing a line they don’t need to cross.

Blaine’s other hand drops and wraps around his aching, throbbing cock. Grips it tight and strokes the hard flesh in the way he loves.

Kurt shoves into his tight fist. Continues to chase that release he so desperately wants. Grips the rungs of the staircase harder as he chases and chases and chases. His hands ache and body thrums. His cocks throbs hard and balls pull tight.

Just like a band pulled too taut, his body snaps. He screams as his release slams into him. Thick, hot jets of cum erupt from his cock and coat Blaine’s fist. Paint the wall in front of him. Pleasure ripples through him until it’s all he knows for several minutes.

After, after Blaine comes and pulls out of him, after he gets rid of the used condom and does up his jeans, he pulls on the robe he was wearing when Blaine knocked on his door. Walks to his kitchen for something to drink while Blaine finishes putting himself together.

There’s no small talk or formalities. They don’t thank the other for a good time. They go their separate ways like they always do.

By the time he leaves the kitchen a minute later Blaine is gone.

****

“Blaine is coming.”

Kurt glares at Owen, his best friend, three days later at that news. “Why?”

“Because he said he wasn’t doing anything tonight. So I invited him.”

He lets out a huff of indignation.

Owen just rolls his eyes. “I still don’t get why you two hate each other? Didn’t you two go to the same high school?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?” Owen curiously inquires for what seems like the millionth time in the four years since Blaine and him met up again.

“He’s an asshole is what happened,” he replies before downing the rest of his drink.

Blaine joins them twenty minutes later. Kurt takes one look at him and walks away. Ignores his amused chuckle.

Instead of thinking about the guy who ruined his life in high school, he drinks and dances the night away with the cute guy who catches his eye. Lets him pull him close and roam his hands all over his body.

The guy’s touch in no way affects him. There’s no thrill or pleasure. Only a blank nothingness.

Although he wants to go home with the guy, he already knows who he’s going to go home with. Knows who he’s going to pick. Like it’s a choice to begin with.

That’s how a few hours later he finds himself at Blaine’s place sinking down around his cock.

“Knew you wanted this cock.” The corner of Blaine’s mouth tips up in a cocky grin.

“Fuck you!”

As he looks at the face of the man who betrayed him all those years ago, Kurt finds himself wondering, not for the first time, how different things could have been if Blaine wasn’t such an asshole and a coward when he was younger.

Would they have actually liked each other? Would they have been more than the friends they once were? Would they be in love?

He grimaces at the idea of being in love with Blaine Anderson. Hates even the thought of it. Never in his life would he ever lower himself to having any kind of feelings for Blaine outside of hatred.

Hips lift and lower. He repeatedly slams himself down on Blaine’s cock. Rocks and grinds down on it. Grips the back of the couch and increases the force. Shudders when he manages to hit his prostate.

Big, strong hands roam down his back and grab at his ass. Blaine plants his feet on the table in front of him and roughly thrusts up into him. Shoves himself as deep and as hard as he can over and over again.

Hazel eyes blown wide with pleasure stare up at him. He hates those eyes. Hates the pain-filled memories they bring up every time he looks into them. Hates that they haunted his dreams for years. But really fucking hates that those are the eyes he has to look into to get the pleasure he wants.

“I fucking hate you,” he says with every ounce of truth to the words.

“Fine,” Blaine replies, the least bit affected by his words. “Hate me while you finish riding my cock.”

He rides Blaine until he’s crying out with his release. Until he’s spasming around his cock.

They don’t say a word to each other after. Only sit there and wait until the other is ready to go again. Go upstairs to Blaine’s bedroom and fuck their continued anger and hatred for each other out on the other.

*****

They continue on like that for weeks. Have angry, hate-fueled sex to get that fix they need. Barely speak to each other in their normal lives.

Until it all comes to a head in the last days of summer. And the hidden truths of everything is revealed.

At the beach party Owen is throwing, bottle of beer in hand, Kurt scowls when he sees Blaine walk out of the house and towards the small group that has formed around the bonfire Owen started.

“What’s with the pinched face?” Vince asks when he notices his angry look.

“Owen invited that asshole.” He tips the bottle in the direction of Blaine.

Everyone looks to where Blaine makes his way closer to them.

“You ever going to tell us why you two hate each other so much?” Claire asks. “What the fuck happened to cause such animosity and anger?”

Kurt waits until Blaine is close enough to hear him before he answers. “Blaine took upon himself to humiliate me in high school.”

He looks to Blaine and sees the guilt fill his features as realization dawns on him what is going on.

“How?” someone asks.

He looks away from him and back to his group of friends. “He asked me to prom. Which was a big deal for me because Blaine was the most popular guy in high school. And I was a nobody. The outcast because I was the only out gay kid. You get the gist.” His friends nod their heads. “Anyways, I think nothing of it because Blaine and me are somewhat friends. And I thought, Hey, maybe he’s been hiding who he was and wants to come out.” He looks to Blaine and glares. “I was wrong.”

“What happened?”

Kurt never looks away from Blaine as he says, “Before prom, I went to Blaine’s house because he said he wanted to take pictures. Imagine my confusion when I get to his place and all his friends and half the school is there. I stood on his walkway and had red paint poured over me by him.” He looks back to his friends, who all now look at Blaine with their own anger. “He fucking Carrie-d me. Laughed while saying Did you actually think I wanted a faggot like you?”

“Kurt-”

“Don’t fucking touch me, asshole.” He moves his arm before Blaine can grab it. His anger for Blaine renewed in a way that feels as if he’s that gullible eighteen year old on Blaine’s parents’ walkway.

Before anyone can say or do anything, he turns and bolts for the house. Inside, he runs up the stairs and into one of the empty bedrooms. Shuts the door before sitting on the other side of the bed; hidden from anyone who may come looking for him.

Knees hugged to his chest, he cries through his hurt and anger. Cries for that young boy whose life was ruined. Who was traumatized to the point of missing the rest of his senior year of high school. The young boy who truly thought he was wanted by the guy he was secretly in love with.

He snorts now thinking about how ridiculous he was for thinking he ever loved Blaine. Because when he looks back on what he felt for him, it wasn’t love. It was a deep attraction and nothing else. A strong lust that felt like love to his teenage self.

He was stupid then. But not now. Now, he knows better. Knows not to fall for any of Blaine’s charms or looks. Only sees the guy he uses to get off.

When the door opens some time later, he knows who it is without having to look. Isn’t sure if he wants him there or not. Feels a mixture of anger and desire swirling inside him. Because no matter how much he hates Blaine, he still wants him. His traitorous body still craves his.

“Kurt…”

He hears the bed dip. Doesn’t look. Keeps his eyes on the view outside the window in front of him.

The silence between them stretches on for minutes that feels like hours.

Blaine finally speaks. “I have to tell you something.”

“I don’t care for anything you have to say,” he replies, infuriated. “Go away.”

Feet hit the floor. He thinks Blaine has left only to be surprised when he steps in front of him a moment later. He glares up at him.

“Go away,” he repeats.

“No.” Blaine drops down in front of him. Determination on his face. “You’ll hear what I need to tell you.”

Rather than fight Blaine on this, too tired to do so, he looks at the wall and waits for whatever Blaine wants to tell him.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for what I did to you in high school,” Blaine says, guilt and regret in his voice. “There is no excuse for what I did. For how deeply I hurt you. I was an asshole back then. And I was so fucking scared of who I truly was and what I felt for you that I did anything to hide those feelings. I did what I thought was necessary to protect myself from anyone possibly figuring out who I really was.”

Kurt looks at him and snorts. “Scared, pathetic jock. How fucking original,” he sarcastically states. “So fucking scared of what everyone else would say or think. Tell me? Was Daddy part of the reason you hid?” When Blaine looks down, he knows he has his answer. “Of course.”

“We all aren’t you, Kurt. We don’t always get the great dad who understands,” Blaine defends.

“Don’t fucking put this on me. You could have done things differently. But you chose the cowards way out.”

“Yes, I did. And I regret that choice every fucking day. I regret…” Blaine takes a breath. Sits back on his ass. “I regret that it took you away from me. That I never got to tell you how I felt about you.”

Curiosity gets the best of him. “How do you feel about me?”

“Kurt…” Blaine licks his lips as a hint of nerves shows in his features. “I’ve been in love with you since we were seventeen. Since that first night I gave you a ride home from work.”

Kurt thinks back to that night. To the fear of walking home alone in the dark that was quickly replaced with relief and a sense of safety when Blaine pulled up beside him and happily offered to drive him home. Remembers how his heart raced and skin flushed at the sexy, popular jock taking notice of him in any way.

“You hate me,” he says in a soft, confused voice.

Blaine lets out a low chuckle. “I don’t. I never did. I didn’t want you knowing how I truly felt because I knew you would chew my heart to pieces.”

“You’re right.” That’s the truth. If he knew how Blaine really felt about him, he would have never allowed what they do to have happened. Would have purposely ripped his heart to shreds to return the pain he had inflicted on him.

A loud silence follows Blaine’s confession. They sit there just breathing and not saying a word. Kurt listens to the distant sound of waves crashing to shore and his friends' laughter.

Blaine is the one to break the silence. Asks, “What now?”

What now? That is the big question. What happens now that the entire truth has just been laid bare at his feet.

Some part of him wants to stomp all over that truth. To do what Blaine feared he would do and break his heart. But another part wants to be a grownup about this. To take time to think things through.

“I… I don’t know,” he replies in a small voice. “You hurt me in the worst way possible, Blaine. I can’t easily forgive you for that. I still carry this hatred inside me. It won’t go away anytime soon.”

Blaine gets up onto his knees and moves close to him. Grabs his chin and says in a soft, honest voice, “You want me to wait for you? Then I’ll wait. I’ll wait years for you to forgive me. To give me a chance. I’ll do whatever it takes. I want you and you alone, Kurt. I’ll wait forever for you.”

When lips crash to his, every instinct he has is telling him to shove Blaine away. To stop this most intimate thing they’ve ever done. But when he lays his hands on his strong, defined chest, he finds his fingers curling against the material of his shirt and pulling him closer.

The kiss is explosive and gentle. It’s tender and sweet. Sends a shiver through him. Has him softly gasping and whimpering.

He parts his lips for Blaine’s tongue when he teases it at the seam of his mouth. Moans at the sharp jolt that runs through him when he thrusts their tongues together. Forgets about his anger and hatred and lets himself fall into the wonderful pleasure.

Both of them are gasping when Blaine pulls away after several minutes. Kurt eyes his kiss-swollen, red lips. Suddenly finds himself wondering what they would feel like learning his body.

But as he sits there, his anger begins to seep back in. The guy in front of him slowly goes back to being the person who humiliated him. Who ruined his life. He lets it take hold of him. Lets it pull him back into his hatred.

“I hate you,” he says with raw honesty.

One confession and a great kiss will not change that.

Blaine sadly smiles. “I know.” He kisses him again. This time, before he pulls away, Kurt bites him. Takes great pleasure in hurting Blaine when he sees the blood on his lip.

Blaine touches a finger to the small cut. Grins with pride. “I’ll wait,” is all he says before standing and walking away.

Kurt is left there alone to wonder if he will actually truly forgive Blaine and give him the chance he wants. Wonders if he’ll leave Blaine waiting forever. Doesn’t see a problem with that if it should happen.

****

It takes time.

It doesn’t happen overnight. Or in a couple of weeks or months.

It takes time.

Months and months pass before his hatred begins to diminish. Until he can look at Blaine and not feel anger toward him. Then more months pass before he is able to hangout with Blaine as a friend. After that, weeks pass before he lets Blaine pull him close and kiss him after their first date.

Then weeks pass before they sleep together again. And for the first time, instead of fucking, they make love.

A little over two years after first sleeping together is when Kurt realizes he’s in love with Blaine. He almost hates himself for it. Would if he wasn’t so fucking happy.

He figures people are right; there is a thin love between love and hate.

#klaine #klaine fic #Kurt Hummel #Blaine Anderson #somewhat sticks to the prompt

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