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lesbian-deadpool · 4 years

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Roses In A Storm

Part Three: What A Time To Be Alive

Prelude | Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 5,681

Warnings: Talks of alcoholism and recovery, family issues, Red-Skull (hes’s a Nazi, that’s a warning in its own lmao), heights, light angst, talks of self deprecation/hate, explosions, talks of abuse/violence/murder/death, space stuff, I thin that may just be it.

Request: Yes. Many times.

Summary: The end of the journey.

A/N: Welcome to the end of this story! I really hope you liked this fucked up ride. If you want someone to thank for making me writhe this fic, then you best go bother @missmonsters2 lol! Hope this is what you wanted wifey!

Ko-Fi

(Not My GIF)

***

That's all it takes.

A few words from Tony Stark and you're on the right path again.

Well...

As right as it can be.

The past few months had been long and gruelling.

There were times, too many than you wanted to admit, where you just wanted to give up. But you never did. And that was largely thanks to Tony and his family.

You would colour or play adventure with Morgan, cook with Pepper and Tony. Helped where you could with Tony and his inventions, but mainly you would just watch him, letting him distract you as he worked away, while you two conversed. You even became a "stand-in Assistant" when Pepper was rushed with mass amounts of work.

Whenever you were craving alcohol, Tony would always say the same thing:

"Sorry, Strange's orders."

"Since when did you take anyone's orders?"

"Since we could get Natasha back."

He was a real bastard, sometimes.

"Have you seen your parents yet?" he had asked, a little over a month into your recovery.

In your silence, Tony knew your answer.

"It's been seven months, Y/N-"

"I know how long it's been," you snapped. You rubbed at your forehead with a frustrated sigh. Trying to fight off the spinning in your head, "I can't see them like this, Tony. They were so proud of me and everything I've done- Did. Everything I did," you clarified, "And If I go to them now. What are they going to see? An alcoholic failure, who quit their job, is now a fucking hitman. And is in love with a woman- who is, apparently, inside of a fucking stone! What are they gonna say to that? Huh?"

"They still love you, Y/N."

You had tears in your eyes as you shook your head. He was right, you knew that, but you still couldn't see them. You knew you wouldn't be able to bear it if they saw you like this.

"Please, Y/N. Go home. See them. Tell them you love them," Tony practically begged you, "Trust me. You only get so long with them. You should know that you've lost people you love, too."

"I know..." you said weakly.

And that was the end of that conversation.

Yeah.

He really was a bastard, sometimes.

But now, five and a half months later, you felt better.

You felt so much better.

And you had finally seen your parents.

For the first time, in a year.

Your interaction with them had been just as Tony had said it would be. They welcomed you with open arms. Telling you how much they loved you. How proud of you they still were. They told you there was no reason for you to apologise.

Fuck Tony Stark and how right he was.

That bastard.

***

You felt like a stranger walking through these halls, but familiar to the surroundings at the same time. Almost like you were walking the halls of your old school.

It was... eerie?

Was that even the best term to use, to describe this feeling? You didn't know. But it felt right.

Agents, visitors, and trainees all the like, regarded you as you walked. All knew of who you were. Most knew what had happened the last time you had been at HQ, from either witnessing it themselves or through the grape-vine.

But it was their own fault when they jumped out of their skin, as you kicked open the door of your destination, as they should have known you hadn't lost your spunk.

"Right! Listen up, motherfuckers!" you yelled, making the people inside the room snapped their attention to you, shock rippling throughout their bodies, as you slammed the door shoot behind you. "I'm coming back to work!"

You could tell Fury was about to say something, from where he sat at the top of the table, in between Tony and Strange. With Maria stood to the side behind her boss. Her eyebrows raised at you, and a small -almost unnoticeable- smile on her face.

"Don't you dare, I'm not done yet!" You pointed at Fury, who leaned back in his seat and regarded you, allowing you to carry on with what you were saying. "I'm coming back, but I have some conditions-!"

"'Conditions'?" he asked.

"Yes. Conditions. Firstly, this is a one-time thing. I'm not taking my job back. I don't work for you. I'm working with you. For. This. Mission. Only. Okay?" No objections. You nodded your head once. "Secondly. I will do as you say, but I have a say on who is involved in this mission. If I don't want them here. They don't get to be. Because if I have to look at Clint's face- Even though I do know that Nat wasn't really his fault. I'm still gonna rip his throat out-"

"Now, Y/N. You have no-"

"Ah- Ah- Ah," You cut Fury off. "I'm still not done yet. Coming off of my second point. Wade gets to be there when I say so."

"Now that's definitely not happening!"

"I agree with Fury, Y/N. That is total insanity," Strange voiced up.

"Well, I guess that's tough tittys for you guys. Because those are my conditions. If you don't like it, then that's your problem."

Fury was about to speak when Tony cut him off.

"Just give 'em what they want. It's not like you were gonna involve anyone else. And so what if this Wade guy joins? It's another pair of hands."

"You don't know him."

"You'd like him," you said.

“Oh, now I want him to join more. If I'd like him, and these guys can't stand him."

"I agree with Stark, no matter how much it pains me," Maria spoke, gaining everyone's attention.

"Maria?" Fury asked almost, shocked, "You know what Wilson is like. You've read his files."

"I have." She nodded. "And although he is unorthodox, as the best way to put it... he gets things done. And if he cares for Y/N as much as he said he does. He will do well in helping us."

"Thank you, Maria!"

"Jesus Christ," Fury sighed.

"Wait," Tony said, "Who is Wade to you?"

You shrugged. "He's my best friend. Well, one of them."

"But I'm your best friend!"

"You're one of them!"

"Are you best friend cheating on me?!"

"Can we not do this here?" you asked him, knowing that when you arrived back at the cabin, you were in for a mass amount of questions, and would be forced to say who your best-best friend was.

You suddenly never wanted to leave the small, closed off, conference room.

"Fine," he huffed.

"Fury?" you asked. Cocky smile on your face. Knowing he was at a crossroads, and one direction was blocked.

"Okay," he said slowly.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Nick."

"Anyway..." Strange began, "Now that we've got everything settled-"

"I missed the whole meeting?" you pointed out.

"-I should be taking my leave now."

"Yeah, send me home too, Dumbledore," Tony "asked", standing up, too.

"Y/N. I'll be in touch." And with that, he and Tony walked through separate portals.

"Wow. So, I've gotta make my own way home? Nice."

Walking over to the door, you spoke your goodbyes. Pausing, only when you were out of the door to say one last condition, "Oh, and also. I get paid three times of what my yearly salary was."

"For this one mission?"

"Yes. For this journey, as Mr Wizardly would put it."

With his silence, was his agreement.

"Bye!" You took your exit.

***

"Where are we going, now?" you asked, strutting into the office at Tony's cabin. Which had become your "base of operations" so to say. Knoticing that the whole team was there.

Tony, Stephen, Fury, Wade, and Maria. Who usually stayed behind, being everyone's eyes and ears.

This must be an essential part of the mission.

You had spent the last three months under Strange's order. You, Tony, and hell even Fury running around collecting all out the things he needed. Mainly books. Sometimes Wade accompanied you on your missions. Keeping things more than entertaining.

"Space."

"The final frontier," you whispered in a far off voice, the same look in your eyes. Tony, laughing at your overdramatics. "But seriously," you continued, words now sober from their previous humour, "Is this it? Are we going to finish this?"

"With any luck," Tony nodded.

"Our ride will be here soon," Fury informed you.

"Our ride?"

"The walking talking build a bear."

"That would be so cool to have," Wade gushed, gaining some weird looks in return.

"The raccoon?" you asked, but still smiling at your scarred friend.

"I believe his name was 'Rocket'."

"Rocket The Raccoon," you said, "D' ya think he got inspiration from The Beatles song 'Rocky Raccoon'?"

"That would be something, wouldn't it?" Maria asked not expecting a reply. But she did smile back at you when you threw her one.

Before anyone could say another word, a low rumbling shook the ground slightly, the sound of jets filling the air.

And that was everyone's queue to run out of the cabin, only to see the spaceship you assumed belonged to the raccoon and his crew, floating above the large lake next to Tony's property. The hatch slowly coming down to rest on the docks.

"Hey, losers!" The rough voiced raccoon called out, from the end of the ship, beginning to descend the hatch.

"Is that any way to talk to your friends?!" you called over.

"I don't know you! And yes!"

"Speaking of your friends, where are they?" you asked curiously, once he got close.

"I ditched em at a bar," Rocket shrugged. "They'll be fine. It's my ship anyway."

Everyone laughed at the exchange, soon rushing back inside to grab everything they needed, Tony saying bye to his family, before you all boarded the aircraft.

***

"Oh, yeah. He was in love with death."

Somehow, the conversation had spurred onto the subject of the purple titan, you loathed with your entire being.

"I'm sorry," you began, "What?"

"Thanos. He "killed" half of the universe to impress death," Wade explained.

"Oh! So that's the real reason he did it!" you yelled, beginning your rant, "He made up this whole bullshit story about overpopulation or something. Instead of just saying, "I'm doing this to impress a girl"! Wow. Good to know toxic masculinity exists in space too."

Thankfully the conversation soon changed to the mission back at hand, with small amounts of banter being thrown around, that always followed you guys around.

"Why couldn't you have just teleported us there?" you asked Strange, who was standing in front of you, a little off to the side, in the now space-born ship.

"Because I can only teleport on the same planet that I am on."

You paused, "Makes sense..." And then. "But, we're in space. Should that mean you're able to travel anywhere, then?

"That's not how it works."

"Sound's like bullshit, but okay."

Before Strange could voice his retort, Rocket spoke from the pilot's seat.

"Leave the idiot be. What's the worse that's happening here? You're having a day-trip, boo-hoo."

"Yeah. A "day-trip". To the place where the love of my life threw herself off of a cliff. Sacrificing herself for half of the universe. Great fucking day-trip."

"Okay, yeah. That's less good," he said.

***

The planet was truly beautiful, in a desolate way. Covered wholly in sand, and lakes. Everything taking on a purple hue from the sky and clouds surrounding it. A truly gigantic mountain stood strong before you. You didn't want to admit it, but you were considerably intimidated by the large mass. And to top it all off, there was a permanent solar-eclipsed sun sitting in the sky.

You would have loved experiencing a whole new planet. Even a seemingly empty one.

If you didn't hate this place that is.

Also, the fact that you had to. Climb. The Fucking. Mountain.

If someone would have told you there would be this much exercise involved, you would have convinced Colossus to come, just to carry you up there.

You arrived, panting, at the top of the mountain. Only to be greeted by a creepy floating man, with a red skull for a head.

Fury knew him. Quickly telling you that his name was Red-Skull -surprising- and that he was one of the most notorious Nazis from WWII.

Yep.

You instantly despised him.

He told you each the name of one of your parents, then continued on with an obviously well-rehearsed speech about the Soul Stone, and yada, yada, yada.

Tony brushing past him, saying "We're not interested in what you're selling, shitty evil Ghostrider." With you all trailing after him, smiles on your faces.

And you never heard another pep from the self-proclaimed, "Guardian Of The Stone".

"Well, spank me and call me "daddy"!" Wade called, peering over the ledge of the cliff. "That's a long way down."

You joined him in looking over the edge. Your heart instantly dropping into your stomach.

You couldn't even see the bottom.

You can't imagine how terrified Natasha must have been dangling off of this thing. Only to kick herself off, and into the cloudy abyss.

"Fuck," was all you could breathe.

You only just noticed Tony standing beside you, when he asked FRIDAY to scan the height fo the cliff. Her voice coming out through his suit, so that everyone could hear.

"The cliff's height is approximately three thousand six hundred and ninety point nine hundred and forty-five feet, boss."

"Jesus Christ," you uttered, moving away from the edge, palm resting on your forehead. As thoughts of Natasha falling all that way down filled your mind.

You gave yourself a few moments to breath through your incoming panic attack. Luckily you were unable to see the worried, yet understanding glances everyone was throwing you, behind your closed eyes.

"So... how does this shit work?" you then asked, wanting to hurry with all of this.

You just wanted to get your girl back.

"Y/N," Strange said, beginning to get irritated by you already, "We literally talked about this a few weeks ago."

"Yeah? And I've slept since then," you remarked back.

***

After strang had done whatever the fuck he had done with his magic. You watched in complete awe, as the portal to the Soul World opened up.

But it wasn't any "normal" portal.

The eclipsed sun slowly started to be revealed, only this time if you looked at it, it didn't burn your eyes. You only saw what could be best described as an orange-yellow coloured black hole.

That was the fucking portal.

"Oh." You swallowed, turning to face Strange, "How the hell do we get up there?"

"We already are."

"What-?" you asked confused until you looked over your shoulder at your surroundings. Everything was bare and coated in a warm light, not even an inch of water below your feet. "What the fuck?!"

"Welcome to the soul world."

You were still eternally shocked as Tony began to speak.

"So. So, how does this work?"

"The Soul World only allows "visitation" to the last to be sacrificed. All we need to do is find her, and pull her out."

"Seems simple enough," Wade said, hands on his hips as he looked around, "You think I can get some grub in this place?"

"Don't be an idiot, Wilson," Fury told him, "Now let's go find our girl."

It didn't take long. Only a few minutes of walking until you spotted the structure upfront.

Quickening your pace, you walked up to what seemed to be an open planned coffee shop. Open planned with the outside. And not just any coffee shop. It was the one you and Natasha used to frequent often.

With a red-head, back turned to you, sitting at your usual table.

"Natasha?" you asked voice close to a whisper, the silence surrounding the world you were in amplifying your volume, ensuring she could hear you.

Red-blonde hair swished over shoulder, as Natasha hastily turned to see you.

"Y/N?" she asked you, voice identical to how yours was. The Russian didn't wait for your answer, the chair sloshing through the water, as she sprinted over to you. Throwing herself into your arms.

It was like a dam broke. The moment she touched you, tears poured down your face, like rivers. You held her close to your body, head buried into her soft, wavy hair.

Natasha was sobbing into your shoulder. Hugging you tightly enough for it to hurt.

You finally had her in your arms, just like you had dreamt of for over a year. Ever since you came back.

And yet, all you could think of was how disappointed in yourself you were.

You didn't deserve her. After all of the shit, you had done while she was gone. All of the mercenary jobs, the violence, the drinking and drugs. The hate that settled in your stomach, which caused you to lash out at the world and people who dared to cross you.

Everything.

She deserved so much better.

However, all you could do was pull her closer, and repeat, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," into her bright auburn locks.

"What are you sorry for."

"I." You swallowed your tears, looking into Natasha's wet emerald eyes. "I've done awful things while you were gone, Natasha. I became someone awful."

"Hey," Wade said behind you, slightly insulted. Which you ignored.

"I killed people. Some in cold blood. And all because they said bad things about you. I was lost. And you don't deserve that."

Natasha placed her hands on your wet cheeks, yours staying on her waist, knowing what you were about to say.

"You should find someone who deserves to be with you."

"You do deserve me," she begged you to understand, "I don't want anyone else but you! If there's anyone who doesn't deserve the other, it's me."

"Don't say that."

"Then don't say you don't deserve me. I only want you," she repeated, to get it through your head, "Only you. No one else. I don't care what you've done, or who you were while I was gone. You're still you. Right now, you're you. And that's all I want. It's all I need. You."

You sniffled harshly, realising how stupid you were with a shake of your head.

"I love you," you confessed, "I'm so in love with you, Natasha. It's crazy."

"Then let's be crazy together."

That was the last thing either of you said before she helped guide your lips to hers.

Finally sharing your first kiss.

At long last.

There wasn't the stereotypical fireworks that everyone spoke about when your lips met.

Only warmth.

Kissing Natasha didn't feel like an explosion. It felt like coming home after a long day. Being welcomed with the warm glow of a fire, and a spiced drink warming up your chest.

That's what kissing Natasha felt like.

Heaven.

Home.

You pulled back to the sounds of sniffles.

Eyebrows furrowed, you both looked over to the men behind you. Never once moving away from the other.

They were crying.

All of them.

Even Wade was under his mask.

"Are you guys crying?" you asked with a smile.

"No." Tony nodded, telling you that his words were false.

Strange wiped at the wetness under his eyes, while Wade openly sobbed, his shoulders shaking, pulling one of his guns to his chest as a form of comfort. Rocket was even using his tail to wipe at his eyes, turning away from you all.

"Even you fury?"

"I'm not crying," the Director, said with a slight wave in his voice.

"Really? Because I think that you are. Don't you, Natasha?"

The red-head nodded at you in confirmation.

"I'm not." Was all Fury said before he grabbed his eye patch and moved it to cover his leaking eye. "See."

Natasha let out a wet laugh, rushing over to bring Tony and Fury into a shared hug. All of them letting out a few more tears at the reunion.

Her knees splashing in the water as she pulled the still crying fur-ball into her arms.

Then going over to greet Strange with a hug of his own. And finally giving Wade the same treatment.

"I'm Wade," he introduced himself when she pulled back, "I'm Y/N's best, best friend. Because I'm better than the billionaire Sherlock over there."

"Is that so?" she chuckled.

"It absolutely is not!" Tony yelled.

Natasha shook her head with a smile, making her way over to you, and tucking herself into your side. Her head coming to rest on your shoulder, as she watched two of your best friends bicker at who was your "best, best friend".

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," you apologised.

"You came. And that's all that matters."

"C'mon guys," Tony said, his fingers now wiping under his eyes, "Don't make us cry again."

"I didn't stop," Wade informed you all, raising his hand.

You all chuckled at the man.

Before you decided you wanted out. You wanted to take your girl home.

"Right, now how do we get out of here?"

"We already are," Strange told you.

Looking around, you saw that you were now standing on the cliff's ledge, of Vormir. Natasha still nestled under your arm.

"How in the fuck do you do that?"

"I wizard never reveals his tricks," Tony said, "You know that, Y/N."

"The other stones are destroyed," Strange suddenly said, gaining everyone's attention. "We have to destroy the soul stone."

"But that will require a sacrifice," Natasha said, trying to keep the fear out of her voice, though you could hear hints of it.

"On it!" Wade yelled, making his way past you, and towards the edge of the cliff.

Only stopping when you fisted your hand into the arm of his suit, then pulling him back.

"No. None of us are dying today."

"But, Y/N. I'm immortal-

"No," you interrupted him, voice hardening as to get your point across. "It's a soul for a soul. You go off that cliff, you come back without a soul. And I'm not letting that happen."

"Then how in the fuck are we supposed to destroy the stone?!" Rocket gruffed.

At your prolonged silence, Tony asked, "What are you thinking?"

"This was built as a shrine for stone right?"

"That's what I've been told. Yes," Strange confirmed.

"You said before- Weeks ago. When we were talking about everything, that the word "tomb" would be better to describe it, than "shrine"."

"Yes..." he said slowly, watching as you pieced everything together.

"Tombs normally hold things."

"Yes."

"Oh my, God," Tony breathed in realisation.

"Rocket? How many explosives do you have on the ship?"

"What are you suggesting?" Natasha asked from where she was still tucked into your side.

"We blow the shrine off of the fucking rock."

"How do you know that will work?"

Not bothering to answer his question, you said, "Nick. Get Danvers down here. Once we blow the shrine to smithereens, she comes along and blasts it with all the power she has." You then turned to face him. "Only an infinity stone can destroy an infinity stone. Ergo, so can it's creations. I mean how do you explain Wanda?"

"Well, this seems to be settled then," Wade stated, "So, let's head back to the ship, call your friend Danvers, and get me some food to eat. Because I'm starving," he finished starting to make his way towards the many, many stairs. To where the ship was waiting for you down below.

"What about the creepy weirdo over here?" Rocket asked, moving his thumb towards Red-Skull.

"I heard my own stories about him... leave him. Nazi fucks like him deserve to rot in hell."

"Here, here!" Wade called, "Now, can we go?"

"But what if we accidentally blow up the planet?" Tony. Asking the sensible questions. And making, one of, your best friends groan at being made to stop his trek for food. "I mean. We don't know how resilient this place is."

"Who the fuck cares." Rocket said. His words meant to be a question. But he just didn't care for an answer.

"Well, I think the planets around would have something to say about that," Fury said.

You looked over your shoulder, as they continued to bicker, and right at Strange. Who stood silently between the two giant pillars. The look in his eye, telling you everything that you needed to know.

This was always what was meant to happen.

No more sacrifices.

Natasha would be the very last one to ever feel what that would be like.

No more would this place be one of death for the greed of power.

No more.

"It won't."

"And how can you be so sure of that?" Fury asked you.

With the hard look in your eyes when you meet his, he knew what you said to be right.

"It won't."

***

The ship was in the air. Facing the planet, you had grown to despise.

Every one of you looking out of the large window, that sat above the controls. Wade, finally munching on his much-needed food.

Well, with all the whining he made on your long way back to the ship, you sure fucking hoped he needed it, with the about of brain cells he killed.

Silently, Rocket moved to hand the detonator up to you. Ready to shoot the planet with all you had, missiles, C-4, and many other explosives with names that were unknown to you, that Rocket had stored away. Even Tony had hooked FRIDAY up to the detonator, his suit waiting outside the ship, and ready to fire.

Form what you knew of Rocket, you could tell he wasn't the type to just give away something destructive like this. So, you understood that what he was doing, showed that he cared.

With a nod to the raccoon in thanks, you moved to give the remote to Natasha.

"Ya like to do the honours?"

"I'd love too." Her smile saying "thank you" for her, as she took it from your grasp.

She never took her eyes off of you as she pressed the button, the small smile still on her face the whole time. That was until the explosions started. Drawing both of you attentions back to the planet.

The shrine lit up like a Christmas tree, it getting bombarded with blast upon blast.

The storm-looking, gas-clouds, that were once above you, that was seemingly attached to the planet, slowly started to morph into what looked to be a tornado of sorts. It only clearing when the bright orange gem, floated up. Being held only by the swaying ribbons of the cloud. Just ready for the taking.

Then at the speed of light, leaving a white trail behind her, as a shooting star would.

Carol Danvers flew in.

And blasted the fuck out of the fucking stone.

As quick as she came. She was off again. Intending to meet you back home.

Finally.

All the destruction just stopped.

The cliff. The shrine. And everything about it. Was destroyed.

But, within a blink of an eye, the portal you once thought was a permanently eclipsed sun, sunk in on its self. And it didn't take a genius to know that that wasn't the best thing to be around.

Not even a second later. A bright light shone around the dark centre, it taking on a light blue hue with how light it was. Before it began spreading throughout the shrinking dark core, bursting suddenly. Rays of light firing off all around.

Your eyes widened when they saw this, your instant reaction to when you saw the bright rays speeding towards the ship, was to pull Natasha into your chest. Raising your arm to block the side of her face from the explosion. Her doing the same by bringing your head closer to hers, covering it with her own arm.

If this was your end.

Then you would go together.

The ship shook vigorously. But, luckily, not enough to make you fall onto the hard floor.

People swore at the collision.

Wade crying, "Ah! My taco!" When the shaking had caused him to drop it.

"Fuck your taco. Luckily I reinforced the ship, that blast could have easily killed us if not," Rocket said, offhandedly.

But that was all background noise to you, and everyone else on the spaceship.

Too busy looking out the window.

"Oh my, God," Natasha breathed, at the sight before her.

"It's beautiful." You finished in the same voice. Unable to tear your eyes away from the sky before you. Along with coloured, smokey, gas-clouds, swimming in the open space.

The "sun" was no longer there. And in its wake. Millions upon millions of stars lit up the sky, dancing to a tune you could not hear, but you felt almost as if they were thanking you.

Looking over at Natasha, you saw the many emotions shining in her eyes. Relief, gratitude, freedom, peace. But most of all, you saw pure love.

Unable to hold yourself back, it's not like you would even try to anyway, you pressed your lips against hers, in a celebratory kiss.

Yeah.

You would never get enough of this.

"There must be so many new galaxies out there," Tony said.

"Well, they were always there," Rocket said in his gruff voice, "We can just see them from here now."

"Not just that," Strange spoke.

"What?" The raccoon asked.

"The soul stone has caused so much destruction and death since it was first created," he began, "Now, with its own destruction. It has given life from what it has taken."

"English, Strange."

The wizard sighed at you. "There are more stars in the sky. Ones unknown and unnamed. New planets. Maybe even galaxies. It's safe to assume there's life to go along with them."

"You mean..."

"Yes." He nodded at the raccoon. "You have many more planets to visit."

"Maybe try not to steal from them," you said, "They were only born two minutes ago."

Everyone laughed as your furry little friend flipped you off.

"For all we know," Strange said.

"You couldn't let me just have one joke, could you?"

"Not at all."

***

"So, Strangey-Boy," you gained the man's attention once you were back on solid ground, stopping him from walking too far away. As Natasha ran over to envelop Carol, Maria, and Pepper in a bone-crushing hug, "Is this the end of the journey?"

He took a deep breath, looking around at the green scenery all around. Looking like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. But then again. So did everyone. You sure felt like the weight of the world was finally off of yours.

Nodding, he said, "This one. Yes."

Strange held out a hand for you to shake, his cape flowing behind him.

"It was nice working with you, Y/L/N."

"You too," you said with sincerity, as you shook his offered hand. Surprising the greying man by pulling him in for a hug, only for you to whisper in his ear, "Thank you, you cryptic bastard."

You pulled away from the embrace, his laughs causing a chuckle to be brought out of you.

"Y/N?!"

Looking over, you spotted Natasha there, waiting for you. A bright smile on her face. And Tony not too far behind her, arms wrapped around his wife. The slight twitch of her head, indicating her silent ask, for you to follow her.

"Seriously. Thank you. And thank your mysterious friend, too."

With a nod and a smile from Strange. You were off.

Following Natasha wherever she so wished to go.

Walking towards the start of your new life.

***

(Two years later)

The soft thumping of your heartbeat calmed Natasha into a relaxed state. Head on your chest, hand over your heart, and curled into your side. She couldn't think of a better way to spend a day, than with you.

You had been relaxing in bed for most of the day. Only leaving it when one of you needed the bathroom, or to get food and drinks.

"What are you thinking?" you asked, with your eye's blinking heavily as you watched some TV show play.

Natasha hummed, the hand that was laying on your chest, previously stroking her fingertips on your chest, splayed and rubbed the body under it. She blinked open her eyes, spotting the perfect ring upon her finger. The one you had given her over half a year ago. A smile tugging on her lips at the sight.

"I'm thinking about how lucky I am."

"What?" You smiled, looking down at your beautiful fiance. "For this day off?"

"No. For you, you idiot."

"Oh, wow. Is that any way to speak to your fiance? To the love of your life? Your soulmate?"

"Shut up!" Natasha giggled, slapping at your chest. Which only made you grab her hand, running your thumb over the top of her palm, " I love you so much," she continued. Voice warm and full of adoration, "I can't believe I actually get the chance to spend my life with you. It's all I've ever dreamed of, ever since the day I met you."

The smile on your face turned soft as she spoke, delivering a gentle, loving kiss to her lips, you said, "Gross."

"You're a dick."

"I love you, too."

"As you should, I'm pretty fucking great."

A laugh burst from your chest, thankful for the woman in your arms. Excitement resting in your chest. At the thought of getting to spend the rest of your lives together. Even with everything that happened for you to get to this point, you were thankful. And if it meant it. You would do it over and over again, in a heartbeat. Just to get to this point.

The journey hadn't ended, the day you got back from Vormir. It was only the beginning.

You finally had your soulmate back.

And you were never gonna let her go, again.

***

Roses In A Storm Tag List:

(Crossed out means I couldn’t tag)

@uglipotata72829, @enderman359, @thelastavenger-3000, @blackwidowromonoff

Permanent Tag List:

@imnotasuperhero, @veteranwerewolf95, @natasha-danvers, @marvelfansince08love, @higherfurther-romanova, @lesbian-x-blackwidow, @sestra-inestro

#original work #original fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #marvel #MCU

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the-holy-ghosted · 4 years

Text

Some Breekon and Hope headcannons!

Because I had nothing better to do while my power was out!! Let'sa go

Breekon:

6'10''

Typically quieter

Strangely sentimental, can identify his feelings better

not always good at expressing them but Hope is patient with him and a good listener and doesnt mind helping him find his words

can be so incredibly dramatic. you heard 128. the exaggeration. the emphasis. he can use his words when he finds them

thought hope was annoying as hell when they first met lol

they were only paired up together because breekon was the only person bigger than hope/that hope couldnt just terrorize constantly or bully half to death

breekon was also the only person with any noticable affect on hope’s behavior

less immediately violent, prefers to sit back and watch hope wreak havoc on whatever poor soul he so chooses

takes a psychological approach, uses stranger powers to fuck with ur memory

Hope:

6′6′’

once you get him going he can talk by himself for a few straight minutes

laughs at almost everything. including things he should not laugh at. will that stop him? no.

was SMITTEN with breekon from the get-go, did absolutely everything to get his attention

he was notoriously a nuisance. he didnt stop being one he just pestered breekon instead of everybody else

doesnt analyze his feelings and doesnt care to

all hope knows is love breekon, eat glass and lie

speaking of eating! he eats. everything.

rule of thumb: does it smell nice? eat it! does it have pretty colors? eat it! is it still alive and screaming? eat it!

likes music, but like, bad music usually

he listens to the beatles you cant tell me otherwise. he plays it in the van and smacks breekons hand when he goes to turn the radio off. he is laughing the entire time

BOTH!

can, in fact, communicate telepathically

albeit only to eachother but thats how they prefer it

stranger powers! if you stand in their company for too long you start to forget things

id like to imagine if you look them in the eye it gives you a migraine

are very intimidating yes. are also the dumbest motherfuckers when theyre alone

nikola runs around the circus trying to find them but when she peeks into a tent theyre always doing something bizarre

caught them having weird conversations about eating a persons brain and absorbing their knowledge/memories (this was hope’s idea)

once she found them throwing things at eachother to watch it bounce off their weird rubber skin and laugh. she left feeling slightly disturbed

talk to the coffin like its a person sometimes, either to freak other people out or just. because its funny and theyre by themselves

sometimes the coffin with groan in reply and they just have a conversation like that

and some... more tender headcannons under the cut bc i know some people want em.. u know who u are

theyve been married since the 1700′s, they just keep overlapping their marriages with each identity change

some avatars keep track of and brag about how many of their weddings they went to. the avatar with the highest count is simon

when they find themselves alone they like to hug for a few minutes to “recharge”

gives them a little energy back, they act noticeably different and a little cheerier

breekon is dramatic. this also means he is an extreme romantic when he wants to be

when they change identities he likes to propose again. every time. the ways he does get more elaborate

hope can be very clingy. very clingy.

he also loves calling breekon weird petnames

sweet breeks, breeky boy, just calls him B sometimes

calls him Bearest or Barling sometimes just to get his attention faster cause he hates it

breekon never uses hopes name. he calls him pet names and pet names only. if you ask him what hope’s actual name is he wont tell you.

if you catch them “recharging” or sharing some sort of tender moment you will not live to tell someone about it. you better know how to run

#tma #the magnus archives #breekon and hope #reatspeaks #some of these were a little inspired by other headcannons i saw #i didnt directly steal any im not an asshole but they did influence my own #anyways take this im going to bed gn

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blackberry-gingham · 4 years

Note

The Teddy Beatles have NO RIGHT to make me feel this soft for them yet here I am feeling this way regardless🙄💖 so here’s a concept : the Teddy Beatles get a gig somewhere and invite reader to to watch. Unfortunately, reader thinks they can’t go because they’ve got school that day. So being the cheeky lads they are, they come up with a plan to get them off school that day

Djsjsjsj I am loving these highschool AU asks guys lmaooo, and this is perfect too 😂 it came out kinda sweet actually, but yeah I hope you like it!

---

The bustling noise of the cafeteria surrounds you as you wait for your friends. Today you have a simple turkey sandwich and some chips. You send up a silent thanks to your mother, and quietly dig into the little meal.

Soon enough, four scruffy looking boys wade through the crowd and rush to sit with you at your table. John, Paul, George, and Ringo chatter excitedly to each other, then turn to include you in the conversation.

"Hey square!", John says with a friendly grin. It's a little nickname all the four teddy boys have given you, with love of course. You always say you hate it, but the truth is you quite like being so beloved by your little gang of teds. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

You chew and swallow, remembering your manners, "Homework probably, same as usual. Why?"

George takes a bite of... something, that he clearly made himself, "No, 'e means like wha' are you doin' durin' the day"

Paul rolls his eyes at his friend's horrible table manners. "Ahem, what they're trying to say is... We have a gig tomorrow at noon"

"Yeah, and we want you to come!", Ringo chimes in, despite the warning look Paul shoots him.

You gasp in surprise!

"That is, if you can!", Paul quickly interjects.

The boys have been practicing their musical talent for quite some time now, and you must say, they're really great! It seems like they've just been waiting for their careers to take off honestly, and a gig is an undeniable great start.

Before you say anything either way, you congratulate them on this achievement. "I'd love to! It's just... Well, I have a study hall tomorrow for a test next week..."

John scoffs and rolls his eyes, "Oh come on square! Just one day of hooky...", he smirks mischievously. The four of them know how important academics are to you, so you skipping a day merely for fun is actually quite a big deal!

"I mean, I want to! And... I suppose it is just a study hall... But if my parents found out-", you make a slashing motion across your throat.

Paul smiles placatingly, "Don't worry, we understa-!"

"Oh sod your parents! This is about rock n roll!", John slams his hands on the table excitedly.

"Yeah, sod 'em!", Ringo tags in again, only to have the back of his head smacked by George.

You all laugh for a moment, then quiet back down while you think. You really, really do want to go, but you just can't risk getting in trouble with your parents! Especially if they knew you were sneaking off to hangout with the boys again. Why they'd practically kill you!

With disappointment written in your face, you know what you have to do.

"I'm sorry, but I just don't think I can do it", the bell to end lunch rings and you all stand. To add a touch of levity, you laugh, "Unless you can convince my parents to let me go!"

The other three are understanding and laugh at your joke, but your suggestion has John hatching a plan...

After school, once you've left to get in your ride home, John huddles up the boys. He's got an idea to get you out scott free, and it's time to let the lads in. It's crazy, and stupid. Mostly stupid, Paul notes, but! It just might work...

The next day, about an hour before their gig, the boys make a call from John's house. Their equipment is all loaded up in the back of Paul's Dad's truck and ready for John to drive to the gig spot. The only thing missing is you!

"Alright, who's going to call?"

"Well I think John should. This was his idea, and besides he's the oldest"

"But Ringo's voice is deeper!"

"But I'm not as good a speaker as John!"

"Fine, fine! Give me that...", John snatches the phone from Paul's hand and dials the school. While the line rings, John clears his throat to warm up his voice.

The front desk secretary answers in a cheerful voice, "How can I help you!"

John's voice comes out several octaves lower then usual, "Uh yes, this Mr. square- uh, I mean-", he turns around desperately, looking at the boys for assistance. He mouths, "Last name?"

Paul claps a hand to his forehead, sure that John has just blown it, while Ringo tries to hold in his laughter. George hurredly tells John your last name, which John repeats into the receiver, correcting himself.

"Haha, sorry about that! Anyway, I'm coming to pick 'em up"

The secretary is silent for a moment, "...Uh huh. And could you tell me your child's birthday for confirmation Sir?"

John grits his teeth and looks left to right again. He was always terrible with birthdays. Luckily, Ringo comes to the rescue this time.

There's a shuffle of papers as the woman checks on John's answer only to find that he's right. "Well... Alright then... We'll be ready for you soon Sir. Have good day..."

The receiver clicks on a note of suspicion from the other line, but the boys are preoccupied hooting and cheering at their victory. "I can't believe that worked!", John shouts.

"Neither can we!", Paul claps John's shoulder playfully and the lads have a laugh. They check the time and then scurry to the truck and all pile in. John turns over the ignition and sets a course for the school.

When you get called out of class and told to bring your things, you almost don't believe it. You're worried for a bit about what your parents could possibly need you home for, but after a few minutes of ruminating as you wait, you start to wonder how you can sneak away to the boy's gig. It is nearly time after all. Maybe you could catch the closing set?

Suddenly your thoughts are interupted by a car horn. You look up, bewildered, to see not your dad or mum, but all four of the teds in Paul's Dad's old truck. John pulls up right in front of you, arm casually resting on the open window, "Need a lift square?"

George opens the tiny back door then scoots over as far as he and Ringo can to make space for you.

"I-", you stare in shoke for a moment, not quite absorbing what's happening yet.

"Come on, it's nearly time for our set!", Paul urges encouragingly. The rest of the boys pile on, excitedly waving you in, faces all in smiles.

You can almost feel tears welling in your eyes, you're so happy. You look from face to face of each of your friends, and instead a huff of laughter escapes your lips "Only if you tell me how you pulled this off!

The boys cheer as you run to the truck and hop in the backseat. You slam the door behind you and John peels off as Paul recounts the rediculous tale to you.

That afternoon, you witness the making of history as the boys, though they don't know it yet, take their first steps towards becoming the Beatles.

#the beatles #highschool au #teddy!beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #beatles fic

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1427 · 7 months

Text

When the Levee Breaks (pt. 2)

Daryl Dixon x OFC

The one in which a stripper that used to know Merle and Daryl shows up at the Atlanta camp. Daryl’s feelings are complicated but mostly he hates her. Right?

Chapt. Setting: preTWD (3 years before the first chapter), some strip club in podunk Georgia

Chapt. Warnings: degrading and sexist language, preTWD Daryl, implied/referenced drugs/drug use, strip club?, sexual themes

Word count: 1900

masterlist

A/N; Daryl’s POV story. Sorry ‘bout it. 🤷🏼‍♀️ 17+ mdni

I don’t know why I believe Merle when he tells me we’ll only be here 10 minutes. “In and out, little brother. You know we got things to do.” He says it like I’m the one that’s gonna wanna stay longer. I roll my eyes but don’t say anything. And get out of my truck that I let him fuckin’ drive. Whatever.

Lighting another cigarette, and kickin’ my feet, I start walkin’ toward the building. 10 minutes, huh? 10 minutes is 10 minutes too fuckin’ long at this shitty titty. Don’t even believe that Merle believes we’ll only be here 10 minutes.

I hate places like this, but especially fuckin’ this one. Nuzzled right smack fuck next to the only highway in the middle of the fuckin boonies. And it wasn’t like it was the only strip club around neither. Real classy joint not even a mile away, can’t even smoke in that one. Maybe that’s why I never been.

This place? It ain’t even a strip club really. Just a dive bar with a little fuckin’ stage on one wall and some booths in the back. All of it looking like it was held together by strings of Christmas lights. Yeah. Really.

I don’t know personally, but Merle said the lap-dance booths are old fuckin’ church pews. Talk about getting on your knees and praying, right? Naw, the place we’re walkin’ into has a reputation, even for us, it’s a real dive. A real fuckin hole on the wall.

I walk in and Merle’s already sittin’ down at the bar. No bouncer, never is. Not at this fuckin’ place.

Merle says he’s gotta meet up with some guy he’s never met before for his ice. I hate doin’ this shit. But this is what we’re doin’, where we’re at.

Some tough guy named Beatle, that’s who I thought we were meetin’. Hell, maybe Merle did too. But as I take my seat I hear it in a girls voice, right fuckin’ behind me. “Hey, I’m Beatle.” Too happy, way too fuckin’ happy for this fuckin’ place. But, I guess, not hard to be happy when you’re all junked up on spazz shit.

Tsch. I already know exactly how this shit’s gonna go. “Well, holy hell didn’t know we was meetin’ a lady!” Merle swings around and damn near breaks his neck gettin’ a look at this girl. “And a damn pretty one at that.”

I don’t look behind me to check, but I truly fuckin’ doubt it. Merle’s blowin’ smoke or he’s already fuckin’ high. No girl that works here is actually pretty. Not even hot. Not even fuckin’ fuckable. Usually, not even for Merle. I zone ‘em out but soon she’s takin’ him back to the booth’s and I catch a glimpse of her right before they disappear behind the curtain.

Only saw her for a second but long enough to know she actually wasn’t bad lookin’. And young. Way too young and pretty to be here, that’s for damn sure. Made me feel more sick about the whole thing. Not that I felt sorry for her or nothin’. Just some dumb little girl too stupid to not do shit like this.

Whatever. The bartender asks me what I’m drinking. Whiskey. Like usual. The bartenders a chick too. Any of these dudes feel like roughin’ up any of these girls and they can. Nah, no bouncer, no male bartender, not even a fuckin’ shotgun above the bar just to let ‘em know.

Fuck this fuckin’ place.

After a minute Merle and fuckin’ ‘Beatle’? Tsch, what the fuck ever. - come barreling out of the booths. Laughin’. Merle’s arm around her naked waist like they’re on their fuckin’ honeymoon.

In this kinda place you don’t have to go to the back to do a little drug deal. Hell, seen ‘em happen right on the bar. She probably just wanted the extra 15 dollars she gets when she takes some loser back there.

I stand up, we’re done here. Merle got his stuff. I finish my drink, and I’m ready to leave. Feeling the disgusting damp air soakin’ through my clothes. But Merle and Beatle sit down and order shots.

10 fuckin’ minutes, huh?

They’re talkin’ business. Well, Merle’s trying to and this girl just won’t shut the fuck up. “Yeah, yeah. I can hook you up sometimes, just gotta go down to the city. My guy gets weird when I try to get bigger amounts so if you’re going to want it a lot, stay wanting it a lot.” Jesus, does she think she’s making sense? Maybe she is. Damnit. Can’t fuckin’ concentrate with the speaker right next to me. Or maybe it’s just the pitch of her fucking voice. It’s makin’ my head hurt.

She’s talkin’ - some story about her guy being so paranoid he cut up all the wires in his walls. Stupid fuckin’ bitch needs a new guy, doesn’t even care she’s putting herself in danger. Why would she? She works fuckin’ here. Don’t care about how much danger she’s in or isn’t in… but hearing about it? I finally cut in to their ‘conversation’, “You think a man half losin’ his mind is funny?”

“Yeah, kinda. Not my fault he can’t handle his shit.” She says it back like she ain’t even phased. Like she don’t even understand ‘m talkin’ about her own well-being. Like her own safety wasn’t even a fuckin’ consideration. Dumb fuckin’ bitch.

I shake my head at her and pull out another cigarette. Smokin’ one after another. You gotta in a place like this. She whispers to Merle “Who’s that?” Wow, her voice does get quieter. I shake my head and laugh to myself.

Merle had been too invested in his new prize to even introduce me. “Oh, that’s my little brother, Daryl!” His voice hoarse and jovial. I brace for it, Merle pulling me half off my barstool. Squishing my face in his hand like I’m some fuckin’ little kid. I go to push him off but she says, “He‘s cute.” And I open my eyes to see her happy fuckin’ face. All glittery and done up and stupid. She really was pretty. Real fuckin shame.

Merle huffs and I’m pushed back in my seat. Never likin’ the attention on anyone but him. “He ain’t nothin’. Doesn’t know how to treat a lady.”

Like I’d want ‘er.

This goes on for another 20 fuckin’ minutes until Merle gets up to go to the bathroom. ‘Beatle’ immediately takes his seat, getting all personal with me like she’d been with Merle. Too close. Without asking if she could even sit there. Just fuckin’ assuming any dude would want her. And her voice grates again, closer this time. “Hi, I’m Beatle.” Christ, I bet she ain’t even got two brain cells left.

I laugh at her, “Yeah, got that.” Shaking my head, blowing out smoke, not looking at her as I try not to laugh harder.

“Right…” she says, sighing. She’s lookin’ down at her hands all awkwardly. As if I just put her down. Scolded her. Actin’ like a nervous fuckin’ dog all of a sudden.

She plays with her fingers, chews on her lip, looking all around the room ‘cept at me. It was like a fuckin’ display of awkwardness. Fake as shit. Just pretendin’ to be uncomfortable.

Her eyes finally land at her drink, which she happily fuckin’ takes and starts chugging it. Like a good drunk bitch would. And I watch. As she leans back to grab her glass, exposing her bare chest, her bikini top sort of pushed on haphazardly over her breasts. Like she’d just ripped it down and didn’t mess with it at all, just made sure her nipples were covered. I start wondering what color her nipples are when she yells out, like everyone wants to fuckin’ hear her, “Shit! It’s my turn!”

Her hooker heels clopping to the stage. So fuckin’ unattractive. Just when the whiskey was starting to let me enjoy somethin’ about ‘er.

Don’t have to wait long to find out what color her nipples are. Just one song. 3 minutes and 55 seconds. The fact that she dances to Zeppelin just makes me hate her more. Typical, but not bad or nothin’. Not annoying like what I’d figured a stripper named fuckin’ Beatle would dance to. Fuckin’ shame she was.

I’m almost enjoyin’ watchin’ her, from the mirror on the back wall that faced the stage, until Merle walks outta the bathroom. Until Merle sees Beatle on stage.

Already knowin’ exactly how this shit is gonna go.

I put my head down right before Merle’s hootin’ and hollerin’ like he’s lookin at the virgin fuckin’ birth. Arms all outstretched like he’s welcoming the baby fuckin’ Jesus. And shit if that didn’t actually make me laugh.

Lookin’ back in the mirror I see Beatle and remember she’s only dancin’ ten feet to my left. And maybe I can’t help myself because I look over.

Beatle on her knees. One hand in her hair and the other on the pole between her legs, her hips rolling over and over like she’s riding a fuckin’ dick. Can’t take my eyes off ‘er at first. Eyes closed, mouth half open - taking her hand out of her hair to bring her thumb to her teeth. Biting on it as she rolls her head down. And she opens her eyes and looks right at me.

I turn around and light another smoke. Trying to pretend that I didn’t fuckin’ see that. That whatever the fuck she was doing on that stage wasn’t as intimate as it fuckin’ was. Even for a strip club, it felt like too much. Even before she looked at me. Showing people too damn much of herself. I bet that’s exactly what she looks when she rides a cock.

Not mine. Nah, I’d have her face contortin’ somethin’ different. Tsch.

Merle comes back to his seat when Beatle walks off stage. Both of ‘em coming down to bring the party back right where it didn’t belong.

Beatle’s voice only gets more annoying and it’s giving me a damn headache. No patience left in me I pull on Merle “Thought you said we have shit to do.”

“Plans change, little brother.”

“Not mine. I don’t wanna be here.”

“Aw, but Beatle likes you. Don’t ya, Beatle?” Her eyes lighting up like it’s fuckin’ Christmas.

“Yeah, Daryl, come on! Stay! We’re havin’ fun!” Walking over and throwing her arms around me like she’s never had someone tell her no in her whole damn life.

“Naw, I’m goin.” Standing up, shoving her off me. And she gives me that look again. Like a beat fuckin’ puppy. Whispering sorry under her hand like she actually feels bad or somethin’.

I tell Merle to hurry up before throwin’ some cash on the bar and getting the fuck out of there. Waitin’ for Merle in the parkin’ lot. More pissed off than when we got here. Like I knew I was gonna be.

Merle stumbles out a coupl’a minutes later, “Damn, what you have to go and do that for? Actually hurt her damn feelings.”

“She don’t got ‘em, Merle. She’s tweaked out of her head. She’s fuckin’ fine.” Sayin’ it harsher than I mean to. Always fuckin’ do.

But I’m right, ain’t I? Frying her fuckin’ neurons on anything she can get don’t she? “Dopamine Barbie doesn’t need feel good shit from me.”

She don’t matter anyway. Just some stripper bitch Merle was gonna be obsessed with. Cuz she sold him some drugs and she’s got a nice rack that she’s willing to show him for some ones.

I tell Merle next time I’m not comin’ with.

pt 3

#daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon smut

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kalypsichor · 4 years

Text

five’s a crowd [ beatles x reader ] part seven

summary: You’re not jealous of the fact that girls on Tinder love George, you’re not. John may or may not be sexually attracted to metaphors. Paul may or may not have a professor kink. Ringo is just vibin’ like always. Gigi Hadid terrorizes your dreams. Oh, and y’all finally get the McLennon sandwhich you asked for.

warnings: 2k words of the usual bullshit, some english major bashing, actually it’s just john bashing ( sorry @spaceyantique ), i love english majors, and miscommunication babey!

i’m writing this draft at 3 am. it’s a new low for me. oh, and the poem mentioned in geo’s tinder is lyrics from ‘for you blue’

“Well, it is a flattering picture.”

You have to agree with Ringo. The two of you are perched on the couch, peeking over George’s shoulder at the Tinder profile. John and Paul are sharing the armchair, snickering at something. Probably another scheme. Bastards…

The photo is the one John had snapped a few days ago of George in the kitchen. He’s got this brilliant smile on his face, just having taken his first warm shower in weeks, and he’s gloriously naked from the belly button up. It’s a little blurry, but it captures George’s happiness—though you privately think that no picture could ever really do the boy justice. Take that, stupid Tinder girls.

“‘George.’” Ringo reads the bio out loud. “‘Twenty-one. Majoring in horticultural science, looking for a girl to put the ‘ho’ into it.’ This is terrible,” he says rather gleefully. George turns around and gives his friend a betrayed look.

“You missed the best bit. ‘I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you. You looked at me, that’s all you had to do.’ What’s that?”

George goes stock still. Slowly, his head turns to John and you swear you can hear it creak like a door hinge.

“You.” The word shakes from his throat with a quiet rage. “You looked through mY DIARY???”

“YOU HAVE A DIARY?” Ringo screeches. Paul has the common sense to look a little frightened, but his boyfriend, who borrows a brain cell from Paul from time to time, does not.

“You write beautiful poetry, George,” John croons, and you have to physically hold George down to keep him from tackling the dumbass. Paul, getting flashbacks to the Shower Debacle, shudders.

You, on the other hand, are trying to wrap your head around the bio. Poetry? About who? That didn’t sound like it was about just anybody. Lucky girl, your mind hisses. Or boy. You immediately try recalling every single time George has brought up a classmate. Your brain sputters a bit and spits out an answer to one of the questions you’d skipped on your first midterm yesterday. Except now it’s fucking useless, isn’t it????

Ringo speaks, bringing you out of your downward spiral into insanity. “Hey, the app says you’ve got a match.”

Frowning, George taps on the notification. “But I haven’t even looked at anyone’s profile.”

“I did you a favor and swiped right a couple o’ times,” John says. George groans—no, the sound does not turn you on a little—and hangs his head forward. By ‘a couple,’ John must’ve meant a couple hundred, because George’s phone is blowing up. The only thing keeping George from hurtling the phone right into John’s smarmy little meerkat grin so hard that he shits pieces of it out for weeks is your hand on him. The warmth of it is radiating out from his shoulder to his chest and sweeping down to his toes. When you take your hand away a few seconds later, thinking it had overstayed its welcome, George has to try very hard not to sigh.

“This one is cute,” Ringo comments. The notification had read ‘Maureen Super Likes You!’ and the phone screen is now showing a pretty brunette, around your age, smiling up at George.

“Yeah, well, I’m not interested.”

He didn’t say she wasn’t cute.

“Wait, wait!” John scrambles out of his armchair, nearly pushing Paul off in the process. George’s thumb pauses where it’s hovering over the ‘delete’ button for the app. “Come on, Geo. You haven’t gone out in years. Like, since high school. Since… since…”

“Pattie,” Ringo says. You and Ringo hadn’t known the other three in high school, but, as always, he was good with names.

Pattie? George has never mentioned a Pattie...

“Yeah, Pattie!” John lights up. You wish people would stop saying her name. “Pattie Boyd. Man, she was a catch… I still remember her blonde hair. And those long legs. She looked like, uh… who’s that model?”

“Bridget Bardot.” Ringo, again.

Paul is mirroring the sour look on your face, though he obviously has a better reason for it.

“No, who the fuck is that? I meant Gigi Hadid. Isn’t that why you dated her?”

“She did not/” George protests. “And no, John, unlike some people, I care about more than just looks.”

At this point, Paul looks as though he’s about to cry. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m more than looks, aren’t I?”

“I didn’t mean you, obviously.” But George’s words are lost under John, who leaps back into the armchair and coos at his boyfriend.

“Macca, you know I love you for more than your looks. You’ve got that big old brain, and you’re the best artist in this whole school… it’s just a bonus you’re so pretty too.”

Paul seems satisfied by this. Stupid fucking English major. John could get anything his way with just a few words.

“John’s right, y’know.” You and Ringo mouth ‘y’know’ at each other and erupt into giggles. “You’ve got to put yourself out there more. You’re in your third year of uni and you haven’t even dated a single person. There’s only one more year before you’re out in the real world! And the sea will be much, much bigger then.”

George scowls, unimpressed by Paul’s little speech. “People aren’t fish, Paul. And I’m vegetarian, so I don’t condone catching them.”

“It’s a metaphor!” Paul cries, throwing his hands in the air. John nods and makes eyes at him as if metaphors were the sexiest thing in the world. He’s probably into that. English majors.

“You tell ‘em, babe.”

The doorbell rings, banishing any homicidal thoughts from your mind.

“That’ll be the takeout,” you say. George flies so quickly to the door, desperate to get out of the situation, that you feel a little gust of wind. You hear him say something to the delivery person and then he’s coming back into the living room, take out boxes in tow and a big smile on his face. Nothing makes the boy happier than food. And maybe leggy blondes that look like Gigi Hadid, your brain suggests, and you sigh.

For a good ten minutes, the conversation is put on hold. You’re all broke college students, after all, and getting Chinese is like a luxury.

“What’d you get?” you ask through a mouthful of food, looking over George’s shoulder. He’s sat back down on the floor in front of the couch again and he lifts the box up so you can see it.

“Veggies with fried noodles. You?”

“Same.”

“Twinsies,” George says solemnly, and you high five over it.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, John and Paul share an eyeroll.

“I got shrimp fried rice if anyone cares,” Ringo pipes up from next to you. You bump your shoulder into his.

“Of course I care, Ritchie. Wanna trade a shrimp for my broccoli?”

He nods and you both chopstick over the terms of the trade. George’s grin drops a little. John and Paul roll their eyes even harder.

After a while, having devoured their food like it’s the Last Supper, you’ e all pulled out your phones. You scroll through Instagram and send a funny post to the flat’s group chat, and everyone laughs simultaneously. Everyone except George, who… has opened Tinder again. Christ, how does he have so many matches?

Well, why wouldn’t he? He’s cute… and funny… and gives the best advice when you’re down…

And you’ll be sharing all that with some other girl if you don’t do something about it.

“Why do these girls keep asking about my teeth?”

You scoff, trying to ignore the pit in your stomach. George’s sexy vampire teeth are yours and yours alone to appreciate, thankyouverymuch. “Probably have oral fixations, the lot of them.”

John does a whole body shudder and you all turn to stare at him. “Don’t fucking talk to me about Freud. That Psych course tore my GPA into shreds.”

“Right, like you care about your grades so much.” You lean back against the couch. “What was so bad about that class, anyway? I enjoyed it.”

“Professor Pang fucked me.”

“WHAT—”

“Fucked me over! Jesus, I dunno why my mouth just had a seizure there.” John cradles Paul’s face in his hands, trying to smooth away the frown on his face. “Paul, you know I didn’t mean it.”

“That’s a Freudian slip, that is,” you comment, sticking your tongue out when John turns to glare at you. Ringo starts humming Hot For Teacher under his breath. John leans over and smacks him.

“The only teacher I’ve got the hots for is you,” John says, turning back to Paul, and you and George make gagging noises. “Professor McCartney…”

“Professor?” Paul’s Pout (yes, with a capital P) turns into a grin. “I like the sound of that.”

“I think I’ve been bad… shall I serve detention for you?”

“Okay, just go!” You point towards their bedroom. “Please leave the immediate vicinity right fucking now.”

“I’m gonna hurl,” George says. The two horny bastards giggle and scurry off in the direction of your finger, door slamming behind them.

You go to bed that night with a belly full of noodles and a brain full of thoughts that keep you turning and tossing in bed. And when you finally do fall asleep, you dream about Gigi Hadid, cackling as she chases you around with George’s stupid little towel.

***

Your second exam the next day goes miserably.

Okay, maybe you’re being dramatic. It wasn’t that bad—you’d done a fair bit of studying that weekend, invigorated to overcome the Coffee Incident. Still, you couldn’t stop thinking about George the whole time, and him swiping through Tinder, and whoever the hell that Pattie girl is.

Okay, stop it. You can’t hate her for dating the boy you like. Us women have to support each other, the rational part of your brain tells you.

You grumble all the way back to the flat, fighting with the reasonable part of you. Eventually, you give in. Rational You is right. Hating on a chick you don’t know is what makes up eighty percent of Hollywood’s bullshit romcoms. Yes, you are going to be a good person and take the high route.

That all goes away when you open the door.

John and Paul are standing in the kitchen, whispering furiously to each other. You only catch the tail end of what they’re saying—

“-didn’t think he was actually going to do it!”

—before John sees you in the doorway and smacks Paul on the shoulder.

“Heyyy there,” John says. You immediately know something is wrong. You walk shut the door behind you and eye Paul’s smile warily.

“What are you two doing?”

“Erm, we were making a sandwich for you.” Paul gestures exaggeratedly at the plate on the counter, which John holds up at shoves in your direction.

“Yeah, we knew you’d need a little pick me up after the test.”

You look around the flat carefully. It’s awfully quiet. Ringo’s at his twelve o’clock lecture, but you should be able to hear…

“Where’s George?”

This slaps the smile right off of their faces and neither of the boys can put it back on quickly enough for you to not notice.

“He’s doing yoga,” Paul says at the same time John blurts out,

“He went to visit his mum!”

Paul glares at John and you feel something twist in your gut. “Yes, you see...” Paul looks frantically to the ceiling. God won’t help you out of this one. “George went to pick up his mum… and they’re at yoga together!”

You walk into the kitchen, crossing your arms. “Louise lives in Liverpool,” you say slowly.

“Yup,” John says.

“And the yoga studio is ten minutes away from our flat.”

“Yuuup.”

You can’t believe he’s still keeping this up. “And the drive from here to Liverpool is four hours. And George doesn’t have a car.”

“Yuuuuuuuuu—”

“Oh, I can’t take it anymore,” Paul cries, ignoring John’s frantic shushing. “George went on a date with that Maureen girl from Tinder. He’s at the coffee shop now.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

You must’ve said this out loud, because Paul gives you a sympathetic look. After a long moment of silence, John once again offers you the plate.

“Sandwich?” he asks, trying for a smile that comes across more as a grimace.

You take the sandwich and throw it right into the trash, plate and all.

#the beatles x reader #george harrison x reader #mclennon #beatles fanfic #five's a crowd #kalwrites #FUCK I GOTTA GO TO BED

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razanartuk · 3 years

Text

about me tag game thing

i was tagged by the wonderful @nothingunrealistic! thank you very much ily <3

under read more bc i was not capable of keeping my answers brief this time around

why did you choose your url?

this...was supposed to be a short explanation but it turned into quite a tale so strap in i guess because we are going on a ride. back in 2017 i was just getting into musical theatre rp and i was still feeling too shy to really talk to anyone ooc so i would just wait for people i wanted to interact with to post starter calls so i could just do things in character with them the easy way. So i did this with my friend cam, who posted a starter for me using a lyric from If I Could Tell Her. she linked the song so i could listen to it, so i did and i went ‘wait a minute, is that Ben Platt from Pitch Perfect?? (and other things too, but i only recognized his voice at the time bc of the acappella girl movies)’ and yes it certainly was.

i had zero idea what the plot of Dear Evan Hansen was about at that point, and for some reason based off Just That One Song and the poster art of who i assumed was Some Guy in a Polo Shirt i started to think it was about some jock guy who broke his arm and had an emo/goth friend who had either died or gone missing under mysterious circumstances. also i intuited that Evan had a crush on his friend’s sister but he couldn’t tell her that directly or his emo friend would kick his ass. so i was like mostly wrong, but a little bit right.

oh and i knew jared and alana were characters from the show bc cam said that they were i think?? but i had no idea what their role was. so after listening to if i could tell her, i listened to good for you and all i really got out of that was that evan the apparently not-jock guy had done...something... that really hurt jared and alana. and at that point i finally decided to go look up a plot synopsis and i found out i was waaay off base. but honestly this is why cast recordings should include scene dialogue in the songs bc otherwise you just get soundtracks like dear evan hansen where the songs have like. zero context. we really just go from waving through a window to for forever to sincerely me without like. any reason as to what is happening huh. It’s honestly not a surprise anymore that all those people on twitter had no idea the plot isn’t about gay teenagers.

anyways. cam was writing jared and she made a post at one point about wishing somebody would write alana and i was like ‘oh i could do that!’ (after i had actually Seen a bootleg and finally knew what the whole story was, of course) so i made a multimuse rp blog featuring alana beck, nabulungi hatimbi, chloe valentine and some other characters, and cam started sharing her headcanons with me that alana is trans, jared and alana were close friends when they were little kids but they sort of drifted apart as they got older and their priorities in life changed, jared was the first person alana came out to when she realized she’s trans, etc.

one night i started talking about wanting to pick a more theatre-relevant url for my blog and trans-[character name] urls were getting pretty popular, and at least 3 of the friends i made through rp had changed theirs to coordinating trans-[character name] and i think it was cam suggested i should make mine be trans-alana so i did. eventually i realized the unhyphenated version was available so i changed it to transalana with no hyphen and i have lived here ever since. sometimes i think about changing it but i feel like transalana has become a part of My Brand and i am not so great with coming up with cool names for things.

any side blogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them

in theory, i have sideblogs... i don’t really use them, but of the ones i do have, there is:

emsbookblog - this was supposed to be where i would post excerpts of the book that i’m working on, but i think i did that maybe one time roughly 2 years ago and then promptly forgot about it/got nervous about my writing and was scared to share anything else. the rest of the stuff that is there is assorted writing tips. i don’t really know what to do with it now. i probably should post all my little thoughts about em and anita and caleb there instead of infodumping on my main from time to time, but if i do that then i have to promo a sideblog and direct people over to it which is always annoying to me when i could just do it on this blog which is much easier

dearnovelhansen - this is basically no longer used, but was a sideblog i made specifically to talk/complain about the novel adaptation of Dear Evan Hansen which was about 3 years ago?? maybe? i can’t be trusted to understand the passage of time. but to summarize: i thought it was an honor just to have the story be made more accessible since many of us couldn’t see the stage performance, but i hated a lot of the creative liberties that were taken. my main grumbles are that everyone who isn’t evan or connor is done so dirty in the novel. connor’s still kind of done dirty in the book, but not as much as like. heidi, alana, jared, and zoe are.

horseisle3 - this one was meant to be a place where i could just enthusiastically post screenshots from hi3, but instead it turned into a blog where i occasionally reblog other players’ hi3 content and bitch about how bad the game admins are bc hi3 is the tumblr famous (infamous?) homophobic horse game. the game where it was once okay to call your club store the gulag bc according to their head of hr, ‘it’s just a russian word for prison’ but you can’t say ‘im gay’ without somebody accusing you of corrupting young children who play the game. unfortunately there aren’t very many good interactive horse games out there, so this one is still about as good as it gets. it’s either that or star stable and i don’t care about star stable.

mlaenie - i’ve had this url saved for i don’t even know how long. way way way back in the day when i wanted to escape from the clutches of the onceler fandom i abandoned my first blog where i basically had an alter ego i guess?? and i decided to just be myself on the new blog. i don’t fully remember who came up with it, but one of my sister’s mutuals suggested that if you scrambled the letters in your name you could come up with aesthetic-looking urls. so lauren’s url became lrauen, and to match with her mine became mlaenie, which i abandoned on tumblr after about a year or so? but have continued to use as my main username on twitter, reddit, youtube, xbox, steam, and discord. i barely ever use any of these accounts aside from twitter, steam, and xbox, but yeah. so i’ve decided to try and turn this empty sideblog into a place for video game thoughts maybe. we’ll see how long it lasts this time around.

how long have you been on tumblr?

i made my first tumblr account in december of 2010, but i didn’t understand how to use it at all or how to customize my theme to look cool and unique so i quickly abandoned it. i made a new account in september of 2011 after some kids at school and my sister told me i should and i have been trapped here with varying degrees of activity/inactivity ever since. i have witnessed the rise and fall of the lorax/onceler fandom, hyperfocused on lord of the rings, star wars and back to the future all at the same time, and for the past 4 years i’ve mostly been a musical theatre blog with assorted other fandom stuff mixed in. i feel i have seen everything and nothing, but mostly i’m just tired and bored.

do you have a queue tag?

no bc i don’t use a queue. i’ve tried using it in the past but i irrationally feel pressured to sustain a coherent theme to queued posts and my brain simply does not vibe with that so i just don’t use it at all anymore. Instead i instantly reblog or post several unrelated thoughts in succession and then don’t post again at all for 3 days. the way god intended

why did you start your blog in the first place?

my very first blog was intended to be a place for me to post all of my petz 5 animals’ profile info, but i didn’t have any understanding of how coding worked at all and i don’t think i really wanted to learn, either. so it just sat there, unused. my second attempt at blogging was as a classic rock fandom person, so as you can probably imagine i was pretty pretentious about ‘modern pop’ vs the beatles, the rolling stones, the who, the monkees, and so on. and then i slowly devolved into a lorax fandom blog and everything went to shit so i made a new blog for lord of the rings/the hobbit which later evolved to include star wars and back to the future blogging. and then for the past 4 years i’ve been mainly a musical theatre blog with other random stuff i like thrown haphazardly into the pot. wonderful.

why did you choose your icon/pfp?

because my url is transalana and two of my most prominent lgbt headcanons are that alana beck is trans and a lesbian. i gotta be shouting out @kinqmike though bc she’s the one i adopted the trans alana beck headcanon from in the first place!

why did you choose your header?

in 2017 i was hyperfixating on Dear Evan Hansen (and Be More Chill, but there weren’t many gif-able videos then considering it ran for a month in New Jersey in 2015 and there was only one yet-to-resurface 35 minute bootleg) so i just grabbed a random gif off of google. i really should get to replacing it with a new header of my own though. i just don’t know what i should do for it.

what’s your post with the most notes?

i have lost track of how many notes it has (i think it’s somewhere around 200 now?) but when Will Roland and George Salazar performed Two Player Game on Good Morning America, i posted a screencap of their Jeremy and Michael along with that one quiz answer meme that says stuff like ‘i want to see it grow up healthy’. i didn’t tag it with any ship names or anything because i was anxious about having it show up in the tags, but somebody who reblogged it from me did tag it as boyf riends and i firmly believe it took off because of that. i don’t think i make posts that are relevant enough to amass thousands of notes, even by accident. which is probably a good thing bc if i did i would have to block so many of them.

how many followers do you have?

on this blog? 175 according to the counter. how many of those are still real people and how many are bots and abandoned accounts? i have no idea.

how many people do you follow?

i try to keep it somewhere around 200. i think i’m sitting at 180 right now but i kind of need to go through and clear out the really inactive blogs.

have you made a shitpost?

let’s think about this for a second. i’ve been on tumblr for nearly 10 years. you might even be able to say i’ve made more than one. they’re just not what you would call...popular shitposts.

how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ post?

that stuff makes me so incredibly anxious that i have to fight the urge to want to yeet my laptop or mobile device through the closest window whenever i read it, so i try very hard to avoid any sort of ‘if you don’t reblog this, i’m judging you’ posts. i find them very manipulative and not particularly helpful

do you like tag games?

yeah babey!! i just frequently forget to do them, but please know that if you have ever tagged me in a tag game i felt incredibly touched by the gesture and the @mention even if i completely forgot to do the thing afterward

do you like ask games?

i do! but also rip to literally anyone who has ever sent me an ask meme bc it takes me so long to answer them. i’m still working on a micro fic prompt from a few weeks ago. also, horrified to realized that it has in fact been a few weeks and not 3 days anymore.

which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

i don’t know that any are tumblr famous as a whole. but probably @neverheardnothing

do you have a crush on a mutual?

in any sort of romantic connotation? no. not that i’m aware of. there are mutuals that i have friend crushes on where i want to be friends with them but i get so anxious when it comes to meeting new people that usually nothing ever comes of it. i’m really not good at small talk or other casual conversation either which, as you may or may not be able to imagine, sucks. i just wanna skip over all of the awkward introductions and ‘hey how are you, how is life, what are you doing with yourself?’ stuff. not because i don’t care about it. i do, but i think most of my friends/the people i want to be my friends are also depressed and anxious so asking these basic questions about life tends to uh. make us all nervous. and i don’t do much with my life so i always have the most boring answers anyways.

i’m not tagging anyone officially bc the @ thing has just completely given up on me at this point, but if you want to do it, go for it. and then say i tagged you so i can read it c:

#mel.rtf #abt me #tag games

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spxllcxstxr · 4 years

Note

WAAAAHH congratulations on 300, jac ! you deserve it and more, mwah. may i ask for a ship from the golden trio and marauders era if it isn’t a hassle? thank you <3

my name is miliane but i go by liane. (she/her). i’m a 5’4, ravenclaw, bisexual, brown eyes, brown hair, morena skin, who loves anything art-related, astronomy, reading books, binge watching, music, styling my clothes (i’m stuck between kidcore, y2k, cottagecore and indie) and eating food (more than necessary). i’m a sarcastic twat who’s often misunderstood bc it’s basically my mother tongue, but i’m a nice person. INFP-T. and when it comes to relationships, i would love a guy who’s gonna be willing to put up with my impulsive bs sometimes lol, like sneaking out in the middle of the night to eat at the kitchens, watch movies together and dance like we’re the only ones left. he wouldn’t force anything out of me til he and i know that i’m ready. and i would rlly love if he would give me one or two of his hoodies, and he would spray them with his cologne bc he knows that i love the way he smells, and maybe sneak in a small note for me to read in the pockets. i love forehead and nose kisses, i’m a goner for those. pet names are one of my weaknesses, (love, lovely, darling, babe, baby)— and i’m yours. i’m not much of an affectionate person as i didn’t have much of it during my childhood, so simple handholding and hugs would make me a bit flustered and awkward but very much appreciated. (PFT- i just copy and paste this whenever i see a ship post <3)

Ahhhh thank you sm!!! ❤️🥺 (ships under the cut)

Celebration

Can I just say, “I’m a sarcastic twat who’s often misunderstood because it’s basically my mother tongue but I’m a nice person” is 1) an amazing sentence and 2) makes me fully believe you were made for these two

I ship you with: James Potter

James is such an impulsive guy

So hell yeah you’re going to be sucked into his shenanigans

He’s going to pick you up at your common room

Midnight

And bring you to the kitchens

But like, under the invisibility cloak (and you are 100% riding on his back)

Of course you can help pull pranks with him and the Marauders

“You’re brilliant love! Those snakes won’t know what hit ‘em!”

James totally loves dancing to music

At random times of the day

LATE NIGHT DANCE PARTY IN THE DORMS

Hope you like the Beatles

Because that’s the only band he religiously listens to

All his clothes are also yours

He will actually die when you show up wearing his quidditch jerseys

Seeing POTTER across your back

Kills him

“It pains me to admit this, love, but you look better in my own clothes than I do.”

James is big on touch

So like constant hand holding

You’ll be studying or reading and his head will rest on your thighs

Loves playing with your hair

You should play with his hair too

Tucks your hair behind your ear

At the same time he’ll kiss your forehead

James potter looks at you like you’re his whole world

And it’s so obvious

He actually stutters around you

He’s big on saying I love you, so be prepared to hear it like 24/7

Tosses you notes across the classroom with just little hearts doodles all over them

Many many many cuddles

I ship you with: George Weasley

You and the Weasley twins and Lee are like the three musketeers if there were four of you

You are George together is just absolute chaos

George loves breaking into the Ravenclaw tower, but he usually flies his broom all the way up their

“Babe, the door hates me, so now we gotta take the long way down.”

He is going to wink at you across every single room

Insufferable

But you love the tall gremlin, don’t you

He almost never calls you by your real name anymore

Usually it’s babe or baby

But sometimes

He just calls you something crazy that can range from

Honey bunches (said with the most amount of sarcasm)

To hot piece of cave troll

Don’t ask me why, I just get that vibe from him

Not only do you get your own Weasley jumper in your favorite colors

But George gives you his of course, I feel like he smells like cinnamon and gunpowder

And that’s exactly what his clothes smell like

Your spot is 100% the top of the astronomy tower

In the middle of the night

Cuddled up never the edge

His fingers rub circles across your knuckles

For some reason he’s big on kissing your knuckles

Like a Victorian gentleman

George only knows Wizard artists, so please for the love of Merlin introduce him to Muggle artists

He’s more into like grunge/alt

But he trusts your judgment

He totally knows how to braid hair because of Ginny

So he loves doing new things with your hair

Putting flowers all over that he picked from near the black lake

“Look so pretty, baby.”

Cuddles cuddles cuddles cuddles

You basically live in his dorm room

Everyone is so jealous of your relationship

Because you two are the CUTEST

I hope you like your ships, and thank you so much once again ❤️❤️❤️❤️

#spxllcxstxr 300 followers

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vanchlo · 4 years

Text

The Firsts / #2 “The First Time Bringing Him Home”

*not my gif*

---> NEXT BLURB: I hope that I can put it out on October 19th, following the every other week rule, but I’m not sure with my busy schedule. Keep an eye out for updates on the series masterlist!

---> READ BLURB #1

READ THE ASSISTANT, AKA WHAT CAME FIRST

SERIES MASTERLIST

READ ON WATTPAD

-> SHOULD I CREATE A TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES? IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED, LET ME KNOW! :)

LEGEND:

+ : a break in the story; a time jump.

italicized words : a flashback.

WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 10.7k words (!!!)

SONG: And I Love Her by The Beatles (CLICK TO LISTEN)

* SNEAK PEEK, DUH BC ALWAYS *

“A tear collects at the corner of my eye, reminding me that at times like these, I expect to blink and it’ll all be gone. I wait for myself to wake up from the dream, and to have him ripped away from me, just like all of those other times he was. But it doesn’t, because how could my dreams beckon for me when my life was finally better than anything I could dream about?“

“She thinks that there’s one soul out there, just for her. One that will stay by her side forever and that someday, she’ll find it.”

- Kazuya Kujō, GOSICK -ゴシック-

“Are you kidding me?”

Groaning, I drop my purse in the doorway where it falls with a thud, and my quick steps echo down the hallway. “Harry Edward, I swear to God,” I mutter under my breath, narrowing my eyes at his laughing figure at the other end, but the happy sound only grows further and further away.

“What would you ever do without me?” I ask nobody aloud, coming to a stop in a patch of sunlight dancing through the tall window. Rounding his desk, I find his brown messenger bag that I still smile at every time, and begin to pack his stuff up.

Pulling open a drawer, I find his Macbook charger that I may or may not be stealing for the tenth or twelfth time. After the last of the unwrapped cord comes out, something pink flutters to the marbled floor. Huffing, I shove the charger into his bag and bend down to pick it up, smoothing down the end of my skirt against my bottom. The thought of standing back up comes to my mind, but as a hint of his recent Sage and Citrus candle trickles through the air, I stop at the words I see.

“Huh,” I sigh, my lips curling into my cheek as the writing on the Post-It clears before my eyes. A certain somebody’s handwriting that I could recognize instantly, but my noggin takes a moment to rouse the reason for this very note.

I hope your case went well today, Harry, and I’m sure it did because you’re so good at what you do. I just wanted to let you know that I really like working with you, and I’m so glad that I found this job, and more importantly, you. You’re one of my best friends, Harry, so thank you a lot for that.

Your Becks xxx

The space between my eyebrows softens when the jigsaw pieces click inside my head, but then it’s followed by the smallest of tears in my chest when I notice that my name is smudged. The paper all over has smudge marks, and looks almost crinkled, as if somebody spilled something on it . . or shed tears onto it.

“Oh, Harry. I hate to think what you did do without me,” I whisper, brushing my thumb over the note I wrote so many years ago, and yet, he still clung onto it. Standing back up, I clear my itchy throat and tuck the note back into the drawer where it sat in the little divider surrounded by coins and pink erasers.

“Can I help you with sumthin’?” a voice teases from the doorway. I almost jump when I hear it, the sleek wooden drawer closing without a sound.

“Yeah, you can stop making us late.”

“What, we’re not gonna be late, Becks.”

“We will if you don’t stop it with your Minnesota goodbyes,” I quip, draping the cloth strap over my shoulder and stepping forward.

“Whatever tha hell that means,” he titters with knitted brows, that breathy laugh escaping his lips to grace the air. He closes the distance between us and I feel zings of electricity on my forehead where his lips touch. “Here, gimme. I was jus’ sayin’ me goodbyes t’ My’ t’ make sure we’re all set with bein’ gone t’morrow and Monday, and you as well.”

“If you say so,” I exhale, letting him take the bag from me. Somehow, it only makes him all the more attractive, clutching onto it across his chest, clad in a teal and black paisley suit with a button up the color of raven feathers beneath.

“C’mon, brat. Let’s get this show on tha road then,” he complains ever so annoyingly, making me roll my eyes.

“Hey! Watch it, you’re on thin ice, bud!” I exclaim, whipping around to find him giggling after pinching my ass.

“Oooo, ‘m so scared!”

“Harry, hurry up already! I don’t want to hit rush hour traffic! What more do you need to bring? It’s only a three-four day trip,” I call up the staircase, my hands slapping against my thighs in impatience.

“‘m comin’! Would ya chill yer tits, woman? My God,” Harry chuckles, appearing around the corner of the staircase a moment later. Shaking my head, I catch sight of the large box wrapped in floral paper. “Don’t smile now, Becks. Dontchu’ smile, babe.”

Stifling a giggle, I turn around fast and thread my fingers through the cloth handle, “Dammit, Harry, what do you have in this bag? It weighs a ton.”

“‘s yer birthday presents, bug.”

“It is?” I ask excitedly after an intake of air. His steps stop in front of me, but I ignore him and push aside the fabric of the large reusable cloth bag.

“They’re wrapped, silly. Hey, you were gonna cheat and take a peek, weren’t you?!” Harry exclaims. Looking up slowly, I press my lying lips into a line and shake my head. His own pair rise to pinch his cheeks and now, it’s his turn to shake his head. “Naughty, naughty, Becks. Hmm, maybe I should jus’ leave ‘em here and you can open ‘em when we get back on Monday. Fo’get ‘bout openin’ ‘em up t’morrow mornin’ on yer birthday.”

“Harry, no!” I almost shout, but his stern look dissolves into a giggle. A spark ignites on my cheek when his thumb brushes along it, hooking his fingers into my hair.

“Don’t worry, sweets. I can hardly wait t’ give ‘em t’ you, let alone anotha few days,” he winks, and I feel my shoulders relax when I breathe out. “Now, let’s go put this in tha boot, and get goin’. Yer dad’s expectin’ us soon,” he hums, bending forward to sponge a kiss under my eye. I can’t remember when he had started doing that, but I smile at the feeling of his warm lips on my birthmark.

“Hey, what’d I say earlier?!” I argue a moment later, almost jumping into the air after he pinched my bum.

“I don’t care. Yer gonna be tha one makin’ us late now, if ya don’t hurry that cute bum o’ yers along.”

Giggling, I open his glossy, black front door to step onto the front stoop. Humming a tune, Harry helps me to get the heavy bag into the boot of his Rover, fitting it and his large box amongst his suitcase and my own. Things are shoved to the side, including his windshield scraper, a jumper or two, and his bag of workout clothes with his highlighter yellow Nikes spilling out.

“Becks, I get t’ pick this time!”

“No, you don’t. I don’t even remember who picked last time, but I got to your phone first. That’s the rule,” I return with a mischievous grin pointed towards him. Huffing, he adjusts himself in the driver’s seat before pulling the seat belt across his chest.

“Pick sumthin’ good please, and would ya plug me phone in then?”

“Sure, and wait, what do you mean? I always pick good music!” I say, turning to look at him as he presses the button to start the car.

“I love ‘Dancing Queen’ and ‘Bohemian Rhapsody,’ babe, but please, can we have sumthin’ different t’day? ‘s a three hour drive, I don’t wanna be listenin’ t’ those songs or bloody ‘Hannah Montana’ tha whole way.”

“You’re no fun,” I groan, finding the words I had just said feeling heavy in my throat when I see his lock screen. A giggly picture of us from the other night fills it, the first time I’ve seen it. Smiling, I unlock it regrettably, and find his Music Library.

“Alright, Ms. GPS, where am I goin’ exactly? ‘s been awhile since ‘ve been up this way, y’know,” Harry says, adjusting the air conditioner until it flows softly.

“Thanks for driving,” I tell him first, squeezing his hand and watching his eyes scan over to me. They instantly fill with the smile that follows on his face.

“Welcome, babe. Take all tha time ya need with gettin’ back t’ it. But, y’know, ya should start lookin’ fer a new car.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this right now, Harry-,” I begin in an upset tone, scrolling through one of his playlists.

“Ya, but I do. I don’t see why you won’t lemme help you pay-.”

“Harry, I can afford it, I’ll be fine. The settlement money will be enough for a used one,” I disagree, settling on a Haim song just to have something to listen to already.

I just hope it’ll help me tune out this impending argument.

“Ya, a shitty used one, Becks. ‘m not gonna let you drive ‘round an unreliable car, I-.”

“Well, I don’t remember needing to have your permission before I did something,” I retort, setting his phone down above the radio on the little mat, noticing his fingers darting around on the touch screen.

“That’s not what I said, Becks, y’know that . . Ya don’t ever need me permission t’ do sumthin’, I can’t believe ya’d think that ‘bout me,” Harry sighs, stabbing at the screen one last time before backing away from his closed garage.

Closing my eyes, I let my head fall against the window, regret pooling inside of me darkly. I try to swallow, but the words I want to say sit there, unsaid.

“I don’t think that about you, Harry, I-.”

“Then why fookin’ say that, Becks?” he spits back, harshly switching gears before zooming along as the directions are spoken to him.

“Because I’m upset and people say things they don’t mean when they’re upset, and I’m tired of-.”

“Doesn’t fricken ‘scuse what ya said, actin’ like ‘m controllin’ when ‘m not like that. You know ‘m not,” Harry grumbles under his breath, stopping suddenly in front of a changing stoplight.

“I’m sorry.”

“Ya well, what have you said t’ me befo’, huh? ‘Sorry doesn’t always cut it,’ ‘cuz y’know, it doesn’t mean a whole lot when it gets overused all o’ tha time,” he continues, a bite in his voice. I soon taste blood in my mouth and release my tongue, unaware I was taking out my frustration on it, as well.

“I don’t want your help buying a car, Harry, why can’t you just accept that already?” I almost explode, wishing I wasn’t, but the words were shoved up and away before I could stop them.

His sigh is automatic and unavoidable, as is the click of his tongue, “‘Cuz we’ve argued ‘bout this how many times, and ya still won’t tell me why not.”

“Fine, because I don’t want to take your help- your money. I-It’s just how I was raised, I don’t know. It’d be so embarrassing, Harry . . ,” I trail off, my voice growing small and choked.

“Oh, Becks,” Harry says in an exhale, lacing his hand with mine and pressing a kiss to it. “Ya don’t hafta be embarrassed, love . . I know that you’d pay me back, and however long it takes ‘s fine.”

“Thanks, but . . I don’t know. I don’t like ‘talking money’ with you, no offense or anything. It’s just . . weird with you being my boss and signing my checks, like you say. You know how much I make, and I know you pay me a little more than an associate because you like me.”

“‘m sorry I give you shit ‘bout tha check thing, but y’know that other part’s a bit o’ an understatement,” he wheezes, squeezing my hand in his. Breathing in, I move my head to look at him and watch his eyes turn to me and soften. “It ‘s. I liked you afta a few weeks o’ knowin’ you at tha firm, then I really liked you, and then I loved you.”

“Harry,” I say with a sigh, looking away and finding our laced hands sitting on his thigh, right where he always places them.

“What, ya aren’t gonna reciprocate me love?” he giggles, and I remain quiet. “‘s okay, love, ya don’t always hafta.”

“I love you too, but-,” I start, but cut myself off, just in time. Or, so I think.

“But what?” he asks, his indicator making a ticking noise while he switches lanes. It takes me a few moments to notice the absence of the music. I think that he’s lowered the volume, but then, I gather that he’s turned it off altogether. “Becks, what’re you thinkin’ bout?”

“Bug? Yer scarin’ me, what’s tha matter?” he says, hurrying through his words. My lips are dry when I swipe my tongue over them, but the landscape outside my window is anything but that. It’s green in between the buildings and the hot sun shines high in the sky.

“I feel like a burden to everybody . . the last few months . . ,” I admit in a small voice, focused on the sensation of him twirling a ring around my finger. An old one I had found in a drawer the other day, from my uni days with Skye. “What are you doing?” I ask hurriedly when I notice he pulls off the road onto the shoulder, and parks.

“Becks,” Harry says firmly, pressing his thumb into my hand, but it doesn’t wake me up quite yet. “Rebecca Holte, listen to me. No, I need you t’ look at me too,” he continues, cupping the side of my face and pressing on it until I look into his eyes overwhelmed with something. “You are not a burden t’ anybody, let alone t’ me. I love you, Becks, mo’ than I thought I could ever love somebody. Hell, mo’ than ‘ve loved anyone. Yer never a burden t’ me, ‘ve told you this fer years, and I wish you’d believe it, love. I really don’t mind givin’ you lifts t’ work, and I know Skye doesn’t either. How else would I know that you secretly love Miley Cyrus’ music, or ya still jam t’ High School Musical or The Lion King? I love ridin’ t’ work and home with you ev’ry day, I honestly cherish gettin’ that extra time with you. Sure, ya drive me nuts sumtimes with yer odd music tastes, but I love you fer that. I love you for yer stubbornness, even with this bloody car issue, ‘cuz I dunno if we’d be t’getha if it weren’t fer yer stubbornness. I love you fer how good you are with yer money, tha effort you make fer those you love, like spendin’ tha weekend at yer Dad’s fer yer birthday with Robbie. I love you fer yer dedication t’ anythin’ and anybody that you love - throwing Asher a surprise birthday party tha other week, or organizing that baby shower fer Rose next week. Yer amazing, you blow me off me feet ev’ry day with sumthin’ new ya did. You could never be a burden t’ me, yer tha complete opposite, bug. You make tha world spin ‘round fer me, always done that, you have. Ya make me excited t’ get up in tha mornin’, t’ be a lawyer, hell . . t’ be a person, and mo’ importantly, yer boyfriend and best friend. I never wantcha t’ think yer a burden, ‘specially t’ me, ‘cuz that’s tha last thing you are t’ me. I love you mo’ than I could ever begin t’ tell you,” Harry divulges and not for the last time do I feel like The Grinch, because it feels as if my heart has grown another size, or two.

His warm laugh dances across my head when I fall into his arms and pull him against me for once.

“Dontchu’ cry on yer birthday weekend now, bug,” he jokes against my temple, his lips making a smacking noise against my flushed skin.

My favorite song in the world fills my ears as his words from before drunken my mind with their never ending meanings. I never thought I could love somebody this much, either. Sorry, Skye.

Sniffling, I brush my hand against my itchy nose and peer up. His greens brighter than the grass outside my window peer down at me, softer than can be.

“I love you too, Harry, so much. I don’t know what more I can say after that,” I croon with happiness plastered across my face. “But, thank you.”

“Ya don’t hafta say anymo’, that’s mo’ than enough fer me, sweets,” he assures me, pressing his lips to mine. “‘m sorry ya didn’t get mo’ settlement money, ya would have if it was me who fought yer case.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s okay?” I giggle and he nods with those dimples on full display for me. He nibbles at his bottom lip, leaving short white imprints amongst the rosy color. I sometimes still amaze myself at getting to run my fingers through his hair whenever I want to, like now. The clean, citrus smell of his new shampoo wafts over me as he smiles down at me, making me think all of my dreams have come true. Almost all of them.

“I know, bug, but it was disappointin’, tha settlement.”

“Your friend at Williams and Knox did great, Harry, and you couldn’t have argued it with your connection to me. Nobody at the firm could, seeing as how I work with them,” I explain to him, my thoughts brushing over the redundancy of it all.

“‘ll tell ya what, I have an ol’ mate who works with cars, and I bet he could knock off a few grand fer me-.”

“Harry!” I begin to protest, but it’s soon whisked away by the softness of his lips against mine. Our giggles tickle the others, and his hand is cold against my hip when he slides up my shirt. “I don’t want you to-,” I start again after he pulled away, but he dives back in for another kiss. Now, I don’t really care if we happen to be late.

“Ya gonna stop arguin’?” he wheezes after ending the kiss, brushing the tip of his nose against mine. My lips part and he raises his eyebrows in response, making me nod moments later. “Good. Now, as I was sayin’, he owes me a favor so ‘ll see what I can do ‘bout gettin’ you a new car. Actually, I think a lease would be best fer you.”

“But, Harry, new cars are too expensive and the insurance as well, and-.”

“Hush,” he whispers against my lips, soon letting me taste his coconut chapstick for the third time in the last minute. Then again, time has seemingly gone out the window these last few minutes, and I couldn’t care if I tried. “I really do think ‘d be best. Ya, insurance would be higher, but then ya have a new car, guaranteein’ no problems, and if there are, tha dealer place fixes ‘em free o’ charge. Inna few years, ya can buy it, or trade it in and sign another lease.”

“Okay, Mr. Convincing Lawyer, you do have a few good points,” I at last agree, watching his sixty-watt smile only grow brighter at my surrender.

“Yer music t’ me ears, y’know that?”

“Ditto,” I say, smiling up at him.

“Maybe if ya continue t’ be good and give a li’l less lip at work, ya jus’ might get a raise when it comes t’ yer six month review next week,” he jests with a lift of an eyebrow, a shit-eating grin plastering his lips. “Reckon that’d help with tha car, bug.”

“Is that so, Mr. Styles?”

“Mmmhmm, it ‘s indeed, Ms. Holte,” Harry answers, but I ignore him and choose to get lost in his lips, and the baby curls on the back of his neck.

A Paul McCartney song hums around us, the soft twang of acoustic guitar filling the holes as buildings pass on by. Yawning, I shuffle my feet in front of me and tip my head against the window. The song comes to a gentle end before a Bowie song follows, and I find my thigh warmed by his touch. I lose myself in the lyrics as his thumb leaves circles through my jeans first above my knee, then higher, and higher. Turning away from the window, I peek a look at him to find him biting at his nails while focused on the road.

“Stop biting your nails,” I whisper, my hand falling onto his and dragging it back towards my knee. It’s difficult, but I hold back the grin begging at my lips when I watch him blink with emphasis.

“Stop movin’ me hand. Y’know what, it took me tha last ten minutes t’ get that high,” he retorts without moving his eyes from the traffic in front of us.

“Why are you trying to get so high, huh, Mr. Styles?”

“Yer not helpin’ things by callin’ me that. Y’know how I feel ‘bout you callin’ me it,” Harry sighs, his thumb falling from his lips, and he turns on his indicator. After switching lanes, he reaches into the middle compartment and offers me a stick of gum before shoving a piece into his mouth.

“And how do you feel about me calling you that?”

“Stop,” he says, turning his head to look me straight in the eyes when a light has turned red. “Playin’ dumb, Becks.”

I avoid his eyes with a giggle and peer out at the landscape where buildings soon become far and in between, knowing how it gets to him and in a good way. His tsking tickles my ears and I shove his hand away, sure I’ve only made matters worse. The next few songs tick Queen off the list, as well as The Stones, and Simon and Garfunkel before a Beatles song follows.

“Penny Lane is in my ears, and in my eyes,” the radio sings back to us while Harry cruises at a steady 68 miles per hour. His distracted humming along eggs me on, and without a thought more, I slide my hand across the divider and onto his thigh. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything, and when I glance over, he’s blowing bubbles between singing along. “And in his pocket is a portrait of the Queen. He likes to keep his fire engine clean . . ,” he nods to the words, and smacks loudly on his gum. I take the chance and slowly lift my hand from the warmth of his leg, and find another spot a little higher up.

“Yer cheatin’,” is all he says while sitting back further and adjusting his hand on the wheel.

Huffing, I look away guiltily and try my darnedest to hide the smile blooming on my lips, “I am not.”

“Yes, you are. Only slidin’, no liftin’, Ms. Holte. Start over, then.”

“Fine,” I groan, replacing my hand to above his knee where I had begun in the first place. His chuckle irritates me, but when he picks up my hand to press a kiss to, I find it hard not to melt next to him.

Throughout the next few songs featuring Jagger, Backstreet Boys, and McFly, I don’t get very far. I hardly beat my record when he picks up my hand and places it back at the starting point.

“Harry!” I exclaim in annoyance, turning to face him. His dimpled cheeks round out with a pink smile. “No fair, I almost won!”

“Ya, and ya were gettin’ a li’l too close t’ me junk, y’know.”

“That’s the point of the game, silly!” I argue but it only collapses into a laugh that he reluctantly echoes. “We don’t actually . . touch each other, you know that.”

“What’re you talkin’ ‘bout? You did jus’ tha other day!”

“Stop it!” I whine, crossing my arms over my chest and facing the window once more with hot cheeks. With my face smushed into a line, I find only a few bits of relief when my forehead meets the cool glass of the window, wishing I hadn’t heard those words. “Don’t,” I mutter when he pries at my stubborn arms that coax me back together.

“Babe, I was jus’ jokin’ with you. It was only an accident, ya don’t still hafta feel bad ‘bout that, Becks,” Harry insists, but the harmless giggle feels anything but that when it interrupts the new Busted song.

“I would if you’d stop bringing it up! You know that I’m never going to hear the end of it from Skye, and now, you too!”

“Bug, it was funny. We all agreed it was, ‘s nuthin’ t’ be ashamed of still, I promise you.”

“Oh, hush,” I say through gritted teeth, shaking off his hand only to hear his depressed sigh.

His voice grows low, and somehow, I let his hand remain when it graces the round of my knee, “I didn’t mind y’know, ‘s rather flatterin’ actually-.”

“Would you shut up about it, please? I touched your crotch the other day, I know because I was there, and it was in front of Skye. I almost died from embarrassment when it happened, and if you don’t stop bringing it up, I actually will die from embarrassment and it’ll be all of your fault.”

“Becks, chill out, babe,” he titters, the emphasis held in his hand that tries to rub the worries away, but I remain pouting. “Stop it with tha poutin’, love, ‘s not lost on me. It was an accident that ‘m sorry I keep givin’ ya grief fer. I like our li’l game, and I know ‘s harmless. Maybe one o’ these times ‘ll make it up t’ you and let ya win.”

“Stop talking already, you know I hate it when you let me win.”

“Young lady, ya better stop it with tha whining, cuz yer stuck with me for tha next three-four days, and ya best bet ‘m stealin’ all o’ tha covers,” he gripes, and I at last look at him with my body too.

“Harry Edward, you will not!”

“I will too, ‘specially if ya keep on poutin’ ‘bout that thing, ‘s not worth it,” he insists, pulling free one of my hands to lace with his one, and smatter the skin of with kisses. “I jus’ hope ya like what ya felt, but ya should know, ‘s mo’ impressive when ‘s hard.”

“Harry, would you stop it?!” I shout, yanking my hand away from him and shrinking against the window with a shiver. “You’re gross.”

“What, like ya haven’t thought ‘bout me dick befo’?” he wheezes with that breathy laugh I’m trying not to love right this moment. Sighing, I close my eyes and try to focus on the song, but it’s becoming too difficult as his words spring a leak in my mind.

This little ‘game’ of ours had started shy of a few weeks ago, and I can’t even remember why really. One of us had started laying our hands on the other’s thigh and as a joke one night, I think after some drinks, I got a little handsy and tried to see how far I could slide my hand without him noticing. It’s become a competition ever since and harmlessly, given the fact that a few steamy makeout sessions as of late hadn’t progressed to anything besides that. Running across some old photos the other night with Skye when backing up my phone made me realize again just how lucky I’ve gotten with him. The man I never thought I’d be able to love, and here I am, embarrassed because my boyfriend is talking about his dick that may or may not occupy my thoughts at times.

God, if I could tell Past Becky that sometime in the near future sh-we may get to see Harry naked, she wouldn’t believe me, or the fact I probably get to sleep beside him the next few nights with him wearing nothing but shorts. I can’t decide which outweighs the other, the excitement, or the fear of the f- that kind of future.

“No,” I whine, continuing to comb through the contents, despite the fact that I already know that it’s not there.

“Yer bedroom ‘s cute, y’know. Look at all these posters, I love ‘em. Bloody hell, ‘s that a Scooby Doo stuffie? Powerpuff Girls too?” he giggles from across the hallway, and I hear things being moved around. “Becks?”

“I know I packed it, what the heck?”

“What’s tha matter?” Harry coos, coming up from behind me and circling his arms around my waist.

“I forgot to pack a razor.”

Apparently, he finds that very funny, because within seconds he’s laughing, “Why ya frettin’ over a razor, bug? We’re only here three nights.”

“Because . . I didn’t want my legs to be prickly when we sleep together,” I reveal softly, and that sweet sound of his returns, soon muffled against my hair.

“I honestly don’t care if yer legs are hairy t’night, or t’morrow, or tha night afta that. I never have, love. But, if it really matters t’ ya, ya can borrow me razor. Lemme find it.” Facing him, I watch as he picks up his small, black toiletries bag and plucks a silver handled razor from it. “Here.”

“Uh, no thanks. Forget I asked,” I rush, occupying myself by grabbing my toothbrush and toothpaste from the bag to set on the counter beside his gray one.

“What, why ya look scared, Becks? Ya never used a safety razor befo’ or summat?”

“No,” I reveal slowly, untwisting the cap of the white tube, and squeezing a dollop of the blue gel onto my toothbrush.

“‘s really not that bad, I promise you. I like it better, doesn’t gimme razor burn and goofy bumps, or ingrown hairs as much.”

“I’m fine, no thanks,” I mumble with the toothbrush in my mouth as I move it around, scrubbing my teeth.

“Becks, c’mon. Really, ‘s not that bad. Hey, why dontchu’ help me shave t’night, and that way you’ll learn how t’ use it. Reckon ‘s easier t’ use on yer legs, not havin’ all tha contours o’ yer face and jaw t’ nick.”

“Really?” I ask, placing a hand against the cool countertop, and facing him. “Wait, but I like your stubble and it was just coming back after you had shaved.”

“I leave the upper lip area and chin, but tha cheeks get patchy, so I shave those. I guess yer gonna hafta put up with tha stache again.”

“That’s okay, you know I like it. You’d really trust me to shave your face?” I respond, turning on the sink and filling a cup with water.

He nods, and with an eager smile, fishes out the large tube of shaving gel from his bag.

“What if I cut you?” I almost whine moments later, with the heavy handle in my hands.

“Babe, ya won’t, and if ya do, I won’t be mad. Rememba, like I showed you - forty-five degree angle, short strokes, and tha lightest pressure. Rinse every few strokes under tha tap. You’ll be fine,” Harry insists with the emphasis placed in his rising eyebrows. “Promise you that I trust you.”

“Okay, I’ll try it a few times, but that’s it. If I don’t like it, I don’t want to continue. I don’t want to hurt you, Harry.”

“Ya won’t, bug. This ‘s how ya learn, anyways. Now, c’mon, give it a go,” he coos, pulling me closer to him by his hands pressed to my hips.

Exhaling, I lift my hand and leave a gap of air in between the safety razor and his cheek covered in the white foam. Tilting it like he had said to do, I wait for him to open his mouth to pull the skin taut. I go with the grain and pull the razor along with short strokes, listening to his encouragements as his cheeks slowly reappears before my eyes.

“God, you look like a baby like this. I’ve always wondered what you looked like as a teenager, I want to see more pictures.”

“Noted, ‘ll hafta have me mum bring some over next time,” he replies and I nod, being careful when his face slopes with his cheekbones, but I save the jawline for him to do.

Goodness, Becky, you’re shaving your boyfriend’s face. Sometimes, I still catch myself when I call him that, Harry.

“Bloody hell, ‘s yer dad good at cribbage. I thought I had that last game 'til tha end there,” Harry chortles from across the hallway. Nodding to myself, I flick off the bathroom light, and stop in the doorway to find him snuggled under the covers of my childhood bed. Talk about a sight for sore eyes.

“I told you that I learned from the best,” I reply, closing my door softly and then getting the light. Dashing across the room, I almost jump onto my bed.

“Come warm me up, bug, ‘m freezin’ with that fan on,” Harry says, his teeth chattering, but I wonder if it’s only for the comical effect. “And then, God, what he said when we brought our suitcases in.”

“What’d he say again?” I ask, burying myself underneath the plain, gray comforter, and draping the rainbow colored quilt on top.

“How could ya forget, Becks?” he chuckles from beside me, the sound surrounding me when I place my head on his chest. His laughs continue and grow deeper over the next several seconds whilst I get comfortable under the blankets and his arms find their way around me. “Hey, Dad, where should Harry sleep? Have him sleep with you in yer old bed, I’m not getting any younger y’know, I want some grandkids soon, and Robbie isn’t looking too promisin’.”

“I can’t believe he said that either, I could have died from embarrassment right then and there,” I comment, my laugh joining his to echo around the room. His chest and belly shake and then squeeze beneath me as I nuzzle my head into the middle of his chest.

Little old me had nearly all of her dreams granted after I kissed this fellow, including getting to feel his toned body any time I want to, or lay my head between his solid pecs. Christ Almighty.

“Once again, ev’rybody, but us, thinks we’re havin’ sex,” Harry says, his laugh seemingly not going anywhere. My cheeks warm at his words and I wish that I could bury my head deeper into him, but I only feel the lukewarm metal of his cross necklace against my cheek.

“Hey, that’s not too bad of a deal. We didn’t have to do anything, and people think we are.”

“You have a silly mind, li’l one. I mean, I don’t care what people think, but I wish our parents would stop askin’ fer grandchildren, seein’ as we’ve only been t’getha four months,” Harry giggles, and I nod, remembering my dad missing vague and going straight to obvious when he said he was traditionally named after his father. His elbow into my side didn’t help his case, either.

Suddenly, a disturbing thought whisks my laugh away and I don’t find the joke very funny, anymore.

“Why aren’t you laughin’, hmm? Here, then - it was funny when he hinted he wants a grandson named afta him. Our parents really are obvious, aren’t they?” Harry chirps, and I nod silently, only now noticing the callused tips of his fingers dancing along my arm. “‘m sorry, I overplayed tha joke, didn’t I? ‘s not too funny afta a few goes, ‘s it?”

“No, you’re fine,” I say, but the thoughts kicking up dust in my head don’t feel very fine. No, they don’t make me feel ‘fine’ at all.

Why is it that she always has to ruin everything, ever since I was little? Even now, with her well out of my life, she’s still there despite the fact she’s not . . here.

“What ‘s it, Becks? Did I say sumthin’ wrong, love?”

“No, it’s not you, Harry. I don’t know, just overthinking things,” I reveal, letting my hand rest on the curve of his bicep, wishing I could see his tattoos in the dark to trace them. I know that that wouldn’t make them go away, though.

“Wanna talk ‘bout it, or jus’ go t’ bed?”

“I dunno,” I almost laugh, wishing this was ironic and that it was still funny. But, it’s not. “It’s hard to think about being a mum and mine not being there for it. I know that’s how I’d want it to be, though. It’s just . . hard, knowing how much other mums rely on that and enjoy getting to share the experience with theirs.”

“Oh, love, ‘m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” he pipes up, resting his head against mine, and I welcome the closeness.

“I know you didn’t, it was just my thoughts stirring up ‘what if’s.”

“Hey, ‘m sure when ya get t’ know me mum betta and Gemma, that me mum would be happy t’ step in fer that role, and me sister too. I already know with Gem that me mum would be all over my babies, and she’s a wonderful grandmother. I only wish she lived closer, but she’s always joked if I had kids, that that’s what would take her t’ move t’ London,” he says into my hair, and I nod into his smooth skin, my cheek tickled by his chest hair.

“Gemma must have been annoyed with that,” I titter and he agrees.

“‘ve thought ‘bout it too, y’know. Me dad‘s ‘round fer Harper and Ollie, but I dunno if ‘d ever want him ‘round my kids. He fooked up things with me, so why would I let him do tha same with me kids? I don’t want them wonderin’ why their granddad doesn’t come t’ their birthday party this time but did tha last, or t’ see us have a row . . It makes me sad, but y’know, ‘m glad we can relate t’ each other on this stuff, whatta load o’ rubbish it all ‘s.”

“Me too, Harry,” I breathe, tracing the shape of his necklace as his heartbeat thuds in my ear. “I can’t ever see things changing with my mum, but maybe it could with your dad someday . . It’s a good thing we’re not having kids anytime soon, huh?”

“Ya, reckon so, but ‘m already thirty, Becks. Time’s a tickin’ fer me in that father department,” he shares gently, and I wish I could see his eyes and lose myself in them, and maybe drag him along for the ride too. It’s all that I can think of to get rid of the sour remnants of this conversation, one that’s all of my fault.

“Oh, hush. My dad was thirty-four when he had Robbie and I, so you’ll be fine.”

“Ya, but I dunno, rather sure ‘d want kids soon afta gettin’ married,” he hums happily, a longing for the future in his voice. Boy, is it contagious. “Prolly within tha year.”

“Okay, would you chill it with the future talk? As you just said, it’s only been four months, Harry,” I laugh, nervously. A similar sound rumbles through his chest as he hugs me in his arms, smattering kisses along my head.

“Well, maybe four months will turn into forever one day, ya never know, bug,” he says with a lilt in his voice, teasing dripping from it. “C’mon, ya don’t know yet whether or not ya wanna be my Mrs. Styles one day?”

“I can tell what your answer to that question is,” my answer comes out in between apprehensive laughs, my cheeks surely scarlet against his skin.

“I never reveal me secrets, Becks,” he whispers, as if I don’t know it by now. “So, will ya marry me one day?”

“I’ll have to think about it . . ask again in a few months, weirdo.”

The streams of sunlight tease at my eyes while a sensation tickles my neck. Groaning, I shuffle my legs under the covers but they don’t get very far, knocking against another hairy pair.

“Wake up,” somebody coos softly into my ear, followed by a stream of gentle kisses down my face. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to pull the covers higher, but they don’t budge. “Becks,” they say, dragging out the sound of my name as they rub circles into my stomach.

I lay there for a little while longer, dipping in and out of sleep, amongst the sound of my name and indiscernible humming. The next time I open them, the sun is beating through the window and the standing fan whirs along. A pair of arms is secure around my waist, and although used to it, I feel somebody’s prickly stubble against my cheek. I smile into the soft kisses pressed along my face and then a last one to my nose. “Wake up, Boops, ‘s yer birthday. ‘s my baby Becks’ birthday t’day,” Harry croons and I feel his cheeks rounding out from a smile against mine.

“Mmmmm, my twenty-seventh birthday,” I reply, stifling a yawn. They reply with an ‘mmmhmm’ before they hide their face in my neck. “And I get to spend it all with you,” I hum, my thoughts waking me quickly. It’s black and white from my birthday last year, pining away for him as he loved somebody else and ignoring his presents.

No matter how hard I could try, I wouldn’t be able to remember how long it’s been since I’ve had a birthday as good as this one already is, and undoubtedly will be.

“‘m so glad I get t’, bug, ‘s ‘bout time,” he yawns from behind me, stirring under the covers. I whine when his leg moves away from mine and takes its warmth with him. “I didn’t imagine ‘d be wakin’ you up in yer childhood bed, but here we are,” he giggles. “Tha first o’ many birthdays spent t’getha, babe.”

“Yeah,” I reply distractedly, propelled back to this day last year and how robbed I felt of a day that was supposed to be all about me and being happy. That was the last thing I was, it seemed, and it’s like a different life to think about that while Harry kisses the hollow below my ear. My boyfriend, who kicks off a blanket with a groan, a laugh rising from my lips as he complains about being hot.

“‘ve taken off all tha clothes I can and ‘m still bloody boilin.’ God, Becks, could ya be any mo’ o’ a heater, love?” he sighs and I only reply with a loud laugh that grows when his hands roam my body to tickle me. I find his sleepy face painted with a smile when I turn around to face his naked upper half, and it makes me wonder how he could ever be any more perfect than he already is. “What? ‘m sweatin’ over here,” he wheezes, carding a hand through his mess of curls while his eyes shine back at me.

“Nothing, I just . . “

“You jus’ what, love?” he murmurs, threading his fingers into my hair and stroking it away from my face.

“I just, really love you,” I confess, watching the contentment blossom on his face to almost embarrassment.

“I love you too, Rebecca Ann,” Harry beams with that contagious smile again, dipping forward to peck me. “More.”

“No, I do!” I protest, fingering his gold cross necklace that’s warm in my fingers. “I love you most! There!”

“Okay, okay,” he titters, batting a hand at me before pulling me into his chest. “‘ll let you have it, but only cuz ‘s yer birthday, my love,” he coos, surrounding me with his arms and covering my head in kisses.

I silently roll my eyes but I know he hears my huff, “Don’t be a pout on yer birthday, jus’ be happy ‘m lettin’ you get yer way with e’rythin’,” he remarks, muffled against my cheek where his warm breath wafts over me.

“Everything, you say?” I tease, and his intake of air eggs me on.

“Oh, what d’ya want now?”

“Hey, it’s my birthday. I get whatever I want on my birthday, isn’t that what I told you on yours?”

“I don’t rememba those exact words, but yes, my girl can have whatever her heart desires on her birthday,” Harry responds softly, his eyelashes leaving butterfly kisses against me. “What ‘s that li’l brain o’ yers cookin’ up now, huh?”

A laugh peeks out from my lips and he groans in response as I ready my proposal, sure he’s falling back asleep in my arms.

“A baby,” I divulge, and begin to count the seconds after the words have met the air. 1 . . 2 . . 3.

“‘Scuse me?” Harry exclaims, pulling away from me and looking at me with a wild pair of eyes. I find it so hard to hold it back when his green eyes widen further, accompanied by a sudden pallor to his face. “Rebecca Ann-,” he begins adamantly, but the moment the chuckle pours from my lips, he stops. “Woman, I swear- Jesus Christ, ya really are gonna gimme a heart attack one o’ these days.”

“The look on your face, Harry! I wish you could’ve seen it,” I giggle profusely, only fed by the crimson appearance of his cheeks as he shakes his head.

“You li’l smart ass, you,” he tuts, swiftly flipping onto his back and pulling me on top of him. “Y’know, ya kinda hafta be havin’ sex in order t’ have a baby, love, sumthin’ that doesn’t quite exist fer us yet,” Harry remarks with the cutest double chin from below me. I adjust myself lying on top of him so I’m not crushing his lungs, or well, his baby making junk.

“Not yet, anyways,” I murmur with a smirk, enjoying the squirming he does at my words. He giggles and covers his face with both of his arms, exposing as well as hiding some of his tattoos.

Propping my chin on my hand, my elbow finds a place on the mattress as my finger finds its way to his chest. I trace the numbers in my handwriting above his heart, so entirely grateful for this year and mostly all that it’s brought along with it.

“Maybe one day I’ll have a baby with you.”

I hear his wheezy laugh and the happy sigh, because they live inside of me too. His greens are stuck on me from between his peeking hands when I look over and my smile brightens.

“If we’re havin’ kids, ‘s gonna be mo’ than one, ‘ll tell ya that right now, missy.”

Somehow, my lips spread even wider, “How many then, Mr. Styles?” I pose aloud with a raise of my eyebrows at him.

“Five.”

“Harry!” I exclaim and he giggles from behind his hands that his eyes peek out from. At last, he drops them and peers across at me, making me believe in the cuteness that is triple chins. “Five children? Five mouths to feed, lunches to pack, activities to put them in, bedrooms, pairs of shoes, car seats, bums to change, new school clothes and well, new everything every year, and five babies for me to push out of my crotch?”

That really gets him going and soon, a deep chuckle rumbles through his chest and from his lips, but I really couldn’t be complaining. It sparks one from mine too, and only makes me think of what it would be like to do this with him every morning. One day, with a swaddled baby lying to the side, or on his chest. What have I started now?

“Yes, five . . Five kids t’ cuddle, make memories with, take on adventures, introduce Harry Potter t’, bake and cook with, watch grow and do great things, have mosey into our bed at night, maybe teach guitar or piano t’ one or two, teach ‘em so many things, and I hope they all have yer eyes and yer laugh . . Can you imagine all that love, Becks?” Harry says, dreaming aloud with an effervescent look in his eye that I’ve only seen a few times before. “Hey, don’t you do that on yer birthday,” he tuts, but I’ve already started and go to sniffle into the crook of his neck. “Did I say sumthin’ wrong? ‘m sorry if ‘s too soon and-.”

“No, you said everything . . right,” I whisper against his neck, the absence of words letting me feel how it moves with every tick of his pulse. Gulping, I wait for him to answer, but I get it when he begins to hum our song amidst running races up and down my back with his hand.

“Maybe one day- Wait, no. Not ‘maybe,’ hopefully one day,” Harry coos as I stare into the darkness, but this time I’m not afraid or fleeing. I could never feel anything but safe in his arms, and I know our children would too. “Mmmm, ‘m lovin’ tha cuddlin’, but holy shit, am I warm!” he continues, our skin sticking together as he separates from me between our laughs.

After a few trips to the bathroom between us, Harry plops onto the bed and pulls me onto his lap. His lips sponge kisses along my cheek and his arms surround me, almost swallowing me with their span.

“Well, are ya jus’ gonna stare at ‘em or go and open ‘em, bug?” he coos, the hairs on the back of my neck lifting at his words tickling my neck. Turning my head, my excited eyes connect with his, and he nods. “Go already,” he says, kissing me before I leave his arms.

“Which one first?” I ask, crossing the bedroom to kneel in front of the line of gifts set before my dresser and our suitcases.

“Whichever yer li’l heart desires,” he answers. I grab one of the smaller ones and look over to him. “Savin’ tha biggest one fer last, I see.” He folds his hands together, his long arms already turning golden this early in the summer, and so are his legs that his arms drape across.

Giggling, I stand up and make a few trips to bring the presents to the bed.

“Openin’ ‘em up here, are we?” Harry asks with dumbfounded astonishment gracing his tired features.

“Mmmhmm,” is all I say as I settle onto his lap again, and relax when he wraps me up inside of his embrace. Tipping my head to rest on his shoulder, I stare down at the pink and purple flowers that branch across the crisp wrapping paper, and suddenly, it’s like for the second time.

I’m not going to let it happen again. No, not sitting on the floor with his presents before me, and him so far away, if only a few steps. His chest rises and falls with rhythmic breaths and I remain there, moving my ear until I hear the song his heart plays, needing this to feel all the more real. A tear collects at the corner of my eye, reminding me that at times like these, I expect to blink and it’ll all be gone. I wait for myself to wake up from the dream, and to have him ripped away from me, just like all of those other times he was.

But it doesn’t.

I blink and the tear falls, and his lips rest in my hair, waiting for me. His large hand leaves waves and blossoms against my back, and hopes and promises. I make them too, just as silently against him. I promise myself that I’ll never give up on him, and although he doesn’t know, I promise that to him too.

“Open it up, bug, what’re you waitin’ fer? ‘m dyin’ with anticipation here!”

Smiling, I lift my head and don’t waste any time finding his lips with my own, just because I can. He moans a sound against mine and holds onto me, and I know that he would never let me go, either.

No, not again.

“What was that fer?” he breathes half a minute later, staring deep into me.

“Just ‘cause,” I respond and he only smiles back at me, but then he tips his head to meet mine, resting his forehead on mine. He winks and brushes his nose against mine a few times in a different kind of kiss.

“I hope I get anotha one o’ those afta ya open yer presents.”

“We’ll have to see about that, Mr. Styles,” I grin and he amplifies it with a snort, bumping his shoulder against mine to remind me of the present I hold, and his affable impatience.

Wrapping paper still litters the floor, so do purple bows, and Amazon boxes. The shadows of our mingled laughs pepper the air as his hair falls through my fingers, and his slow breaths are whispers against my skin. I let my head fall and my hair dance across his skin before my lips do, ever so gently.

“Sweet dreams, love,” I barely whisper, careful to leave the bed without waking him. At the last second, I turn back and pull the comforter and quilt up his thighs covered in gray shorts, and past his bare shoulders. He’ll need it with his personal heater gone from his side, I think.

Tip toeing across the room, I take careful steps around the pile of presents still sat by our suitcases. The elation and disbelief comes over me in another wave when I see them one by one, starting with the lilac colored Kitchenaid mixer.

“Ya need it fer yer bakin’, love. I know tha kneadin’ part o’ recipes ‘s a bore, and yer handheld one was almost shot. We both know that. Maybe ‘m tellin’ you t’ bake fer me mo,’ I dunno,” he had laughed after my jaw had fallen to my chest, and his faced turned a proud crimson.

“We’re already halfway in, might as well make sure we have tha whole boxset fer when we wanna rewatch it,” Harry told me after I had opened the large box with the five Friends’ faces on it, assuring me that it was just as much a present for him as it was for me. He had kept making it known that that was the theme, so I would stop complaining about him spoiling me too much.

“I can’t take any credit fer that one, which ‘m quite sorry ‘bout, but mum wanted t’ knit ya sumthin’. Told her ya loved blankets, and here we are. Reckon I might have ya keep it at mine so I can steal it too,” runs through my head as I once again rub the chenille type yarn between my fingers at the end of the bed where the knit blanket lies. With a proud grin, I grab two corners and drape it over the sleeping man in my childhood, twin-sized bed, a dated McFly poster hanging over his head.

“This one’s jus’ as much fer me as it ‘s fer you, too,” he kept saying, then for Paul McCartney’s second show at the O2, and then for another pair of tickets to his daughter Stella’s fashion show in just a few weeks.

The same phrase, give or take a few words, flowed from his lips when the bag of candles graced my hands. He explained that we nick so many candles from each other’s offices that it was only natural that he bought me some, seeing as how he’d be stealing some here soon, especially the Tobacco Vanilla, Whiskey Cedar, Sage and Lemon, and the highly coveted Cinnamon Roll one.

The cribbage board was just a bonus, him claiming that he could finally bring his office one home and keep mine at work for us to play on.

What he couldn’t claim his rightful ownership to as well was the card full of unintelligible scribbles from Harper and Ollie, that thank the Gods, Gemma helped them write. The tears in my eyes since the first present grew and grew, and didn’t waver at the message of how Harper wanted to have a sleepover at Harry’s soon with me - nail painting, baking cookies, and all.

But, when I met his eyes with my sad, puppy dog pair, he melted right then and there.

“Harry, this is too much. I can’t accept all of this,” I had told him and he shook his head, lifting my own with his thumb to look in his eyes.

“Please, Becks. I-I hate t’ say it, but I have too much money than I know what t’ do with, and ‘ve been so excited to give you all of these. Don’t worry ‘bout tha money. Alright, my love?”

I gave in, and with the kisses he smothered me with, there was no way in hell I could say no to that face.

He stirs underneath the covers behind me, and so do my thoughts, but with a huff, Harry returns to snoring softly. I carefully open my suitcase and fish out my last clean outfit, and without a sound, walk across the hall and into the shower.

I thought I had made out like a bandit, but when I slip back into my room in search of Post-Its and a pen, I find that somebody else is awake.

“Where are you goin’, Becks?” they rasp, pulling themselves up to sit and the covers pool on his lap. Rubbing at his eyes, Harry cards a hand through his tousled curls, quickly yawning.

“Oh, just to run an errand quick. Go back to bed, I won’t be gone long.”

“Mmmm,” he groans, knuckling at his left eye. “Can’t it wait ‘til we leave this afternoon, bug? Y’know I can’t sleep without you, I get too cold, and miss havin’ you in me arms.”

“No, it can’t. I’m sorry . . You’ll fall right back asleep, Harry, I promise,” I shush him, stepping forward and pressing on his shoulder, but he doesn’t fall back in any of the ways that I’d hoped.

“I’ll come with, then. We can grab some pastries from that bakery you love fer brekky with yer dad.”

“It’s okay, I will if you want. Please, Harry, go back to sleep. You were up late, you must have a headache from all of those drinks with Robbie. I dunno why you pair had to have a shots competition,” I insist, and my distraction makes a raspy laugh fall from his mouth.

“I like yer brotha, y’know, he’s a funny git,” he drawls, rubbing his hands down his face once before pulling back the covers. “Can I come? ‘ll be mo’ awake after I have a shower.”

“I dunno,” I nervously laugh, tucking a wet lock of hair behind my ear. Huffing, I smooth down the floral skirt of my dress and sit on the edge of my bed. Thoughts whizz around in my head, flying to that destination and the next, but this one isn’t sure where to go.

“If ya really don’t want me t’, ‘s okay. ‘m sorry t’ pressure ya, babe.”

“It’s okay, Harry. I’d like you to come, but . . I dunno,” I reveal, toying with the ring and starting at the corner of my eye, I watch his hands still my pair that wring each other.

“Don’t hafta tell me if ya don’t wanna, I trust you y’know.”

Nodding, I wonder how I had ever gotten so damn lucky with this one. A split second giggle tickles at my lips, and then the toying turns into twirling, and then, telling.

“She would’ve been eighty-five today, I think,” the whisper fights to make itself known, and I can’t meet his eyes, but I think I hear it in his breathing when he connects the dots. The spinning of the ring, and the tracing of the flower, frozen in time. “I bring her flowers every year, just wildflowers I find on the side of the road. I’ve wanted to bring a cupcake and sing before blowing it out, but it seemed odd to eat it sitting there, when she can’t,” I continue, the frog jumping into my throat at the end there.

His words are absent, but they’re the least bit of that and so is my surprise when my head meets his shoulder, and his fingers trickle through my hair.

“You don’t have to come with, if you don’t want to,” I pipe up, grabbing hold of the smooth chain around his neck. The swallows beckon for me, and I trace their wings slowly, wondering how silky they’d feel if they were alive on his chest.

“I’d like t’ come with, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, it’s more than okay,” I respond, my thumb and finger holding onto the cross when my arms go around his neck, and he lifts me onto his lap.

“I wish I coulda met her, yer Grandma Ann . . but bringin’ flowers t’ her grave sounds rather special too. Yer tha sweetest, Becks, y’know that?”

“So do I, she would’ve loved you,” I say, watching the tear glide down the slope of his back, and past the golden hairs lit by the sunrise behind the curtains.

“Does yer dad go with you?”

“Sometimes, maybe he will today.”

“‘d like that,” Harry coos, drawing the letters of my name, one by one, along my spine. I only know that because he’d told me last night when I couldn’t fall asleep, and he was happily buzzed.

I think that’s why I couldn’t, because how could my dreams beckon for me when my life was finally better than anything I could dream about?

“Ya mean it, tha best ever? In tha whole, entire history o’ birthdays, ever and ever?” they titter and its feeling against my cheek brings one forth onto my lips.

“You’re so silly, but yes. I had an amazing birthday, Harry. One to remember.”

“Good, bug. ‘m glad t’ hear. Only tha best fer me favourite girl,” he coos, dragging his nose along my cheek.

“Maybe next year for my birthday you can grow your hair out again for my birthday present.”

“Oh, really? That’s whatcha want? Hmm, I was thinkin’ o’ givin’ you a baby fer yer twenty-eighth,” he giggles, the rich smell of coffee hinting on his breath. Now, it’s my turn to giggle and I share it into his neck, our chests bumping when he pulls me closer. I steal a kiss from his swallow and nuzzle in deeper as he drapes the blanket his mum knitted for me over us, sinking further into his sofa.

“Stop it with the baby talk, marriage comes first, dumbo.”

“Fine then, ‘ll getchu a ring fer yer birthday,” he continues and I hide my reddening cheeks in the place between his shoulder and neck. Monica laughs at something on the TV behind us, but my focus darts to the melodic kisses he sponges along my neck, and his nose nudging at my shirt.

“Shush it, I’m not going anywhere,” I insist, revealing my scarlet cheeks to his smiling eyes.

“Better not, I dunno what ‘d do if ya did.”

“It’s a good thing neither of us have to worry about that, huh?” I return, tapping my finger on his nose. He nods and brushes his thumb under my eye where he often traces the imperfection that lives there.

“‘m lookin’ forward t’ mo’ weekends at yer Dad’s. It was loads o’ fun gettin’ t’ see where ya grew up, tha house ya grew up in, yer old schools, tha park at tha pond, and bloody hell, that night out back by tha bonfire,” he says, words falling into a sound of happiness. “I can’t remember tha last time I had so much Tequila. Fook, can that brotha o’ yers drink, and yer dad too. And that pizza yer dad made, ugh, ‘m gonna need anotha one o’ those soon. I miss playin’ board games so much like that, I see where ya get tha love o’ it from. I ‘specially loved playin’ on yer family piano with you, reckon we might make a good pair if we practice some mo’.”

Giggling, I agree with him as my fingers mingle with his necklace, “Yeah, it was a birthday to remember, that’s for sure.”

“Reckon so, and I couldn’t be gladder to hear that, bug. Remember last year’s wasn’t tha best, you’ve said. I hope they only get betta and betta, my love,” Harry croons, and I nod, sure that they will.

It all seems to be a hill that I get to climb by his side, but it’s the least bit tiring, and all the more exhilarating with every step that I take.

13 notes · View notes

britishchick09 · 4 years

Text

help! livewatch

to kick off my beatleversary, we’re taking a look at my fellow beatle fan (aka my dad)’s fave movie from the lads... help! i’ve only seen 15 minutes of ‘a hard day’s night’ because it was a bit boring and ‘yellow submarine’ was fantastic, so i hope this falls right in between. let’s go get some help!

...why are we back to the end of return of the jedi?

sacrifice WHAT’S HAPPENING

OMG the sacrificial ring!!! :o

wait does ringo have it?

people: “ring ring ring ring!!!” john in ob-la-di-ob-da-da anthology: “a ring!”

and it goes right into ‘help!’ clever one lads ;)

the movie is in color yet this is in black and white like it’s on tv. coolio! :D

‘help’ is a bop! :D

you’d think the credits would play over them but nope :/

eyyy called it! :D

CALLED IT AGAIN!!!!!!

♫ won’t you pleeeeeease please

me!!! :D

this guy keeps throwing darts on the screen and it’s so weird:

OMG lester like phil lester???? ;o

tribe chief: “we need to find the ring!” guy: “has nobody looked in the washbasin?” lol :D

so the guy is only finding the ring for himself and not the tribe?

cool they live at 221b! :D

lady: “still the same they was before they was!” grammar much?

pretty house! :D

JOHN YOU SNEAKY LIL BISH

he’s reading it in a hole how nice :)

george is using fake teeth to mow a lawn inside their house how epic :D

and paul is playing the organ! :D

ringo: “me finger’s stuck in the door” no rongles it’s “I HAVE THE DOOR IN ME FINGERS!!!!’

OMG RINGO SCREAM LET GO LADY!!!!!

also his hair is a hot mess

john: “that’s immature of you, son” says you

ringo thought the lady thought his fingie was a sandwhich lol :D

ooh light :o

NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! :o

ringo just fell off the bed lol :D

john sleeps in the hole lol :D

why does john have a phone in the hole lol

he’s calling george and paul who are in the other rooms WHY CAN’T YOU JUST TALK TO THEM

and all he did was say ‘hello’ JOHN YOU DORK

the guy pronounced beatle ‘bee-ah-tle’ lol :D

guy: “they all look the same!” me before a year ago today

yo like harrods the store? :o

they keep saying ‘shilling’ why

ooh title!

groovy!

ringo to john: “what was it that first attracted you to me?” WOAH LENNSTARR???? john: “you’re very polite aren’t you?” yes that’s true thanks for not making it sarcastic :)

OMG MAGNETS!!!

john: “ah HA HA!!!!” op there’s the sarcastic bish!

two lads walking 0.2 feet apart in a 2 BECAUSE THEY’RE NOT BI!!!!

why are ringo and john saying the same things at the same time chaotic lads!

john: “what’s the matter?” ringo: “oh there’s no matter. OW OW OWWW!!!!” i think there’s a matter....

‘65 beatle girls: *swoon!!*

also don’t tell the lady she sucked up the wrong hand...

WELL THAT ESCALATED FAST

george keeps going ‘oh ho ho ho!!!” and i love it :D

they’re playing ‘you’re gonna lose that girl!’ :D

and it goes from not as clear film audio to clear recording audio which is weird

cool shot! :D (and beatle girls probably thought this was so hot)

ringo cig WHY

they have to do it again WHY IT WAS PERFECT

awww ringo’s dancing a bit :)

OMG :o

john: “you naughty boy!” don’t say that plz why :/

OMG THIS GUY’S GONNA CHAINSHAW WINGO :(((((

lady: “please flee!!!” ringo: “ok” lol :D

indian music! (you think this is how george started liking it?)

they’re seeking enlightenment! :D

ringo: “does this ring mean anything from you?” british guy: “freemason?” senpai wants your number

george is asking everyone if the blood rushes to them lol :D

OMG SOMEONE’S KILLING EVERYONE

guy: “could you pick this up for me please?” *knocks the chef out rapunzel style* lol :D

awww the lady wants to save ringo!

lady: “that’s the sacred ring!” paul: “say no more!” lady: “i can say no more!” lol :D

awww ringo is john’s best friend :)

oh no they have until 5 until a new victim is closing! :o

why is there a ticket in the soup

ringo: “that’s a season ticket!” john: “i love me a good seasoning” *puts it back in his soup* lol :D

ringo: “i got it from this eastern bird... lady” ;)

ringo can’t take the ring off!

george *about his soup*: “there’s footprints in here!” wut

THINGS ESCALATE SO QUICKLY IN THIS MOVIE!!!!

jeweler: “some problems are matrimonial” john: “eh heh heh” ;)

john wtf

the ring can’t be cut and it’s breaking the tools like rapunzel’s hair! :o

john: “you’re a failure, aren’t you scientist?” shut up plz

scientist: “voltage, up, up!” paul: “up up up up!!!” awww :)

scientist: “made in america you see!” john: “this is english” lol :D

john: “how do you feel?” ringo: “i used to use me hands” john: “he used to use his hands” lol :D

OMG I REMEMBER SEEING THAT WHEN I WAS A BABY FAN!!!!!

paulie likes it ;)

oh no the lady has a gun!! :o

the ‘brain drain’!

beatle logic: sing a song back home ALTHOUGH THEY SHOULD PROBABLY BE TAKING CARE OF THIS SERIOUS RING PROBLEM????

it’s ‘you’ve got to hide your love away’ so that’s cool :D

she’s not impressed :/ (but i am!)

john said the lady had ‘filthy eastern ways’ SHUT UP JAWN >:(

the lady wants ringo to shrink his fingo! :o

wait what

ooh intermission! :D

this is so random lol :D

PART 2 WAS JUST A LADY WASHING SOMEONE WTF WHY

that was random af and very family guy!

ringo’s allergic to penicillin like my mom! :D

OMG THE BAD GUYS ARE ATTACKING!!!!!!

my fave show! :D

JOHN IS ATTACKING IN THE HOLE ATTACK IN THE HOLE!!!!!

aww finger guns! :D

ringo’s crying at his suit having red all over :(

WHY IS THIS FIGHT SO CHAOTIC

ringo: “how can i get the ring off with me hands held up?” lol :D

ringo has a voice crack when he said ‘look!” :D

JOHN GON KILL U!!!!

john’s ‘get out’ is so good omg :D

oh no the scientists really want the ring now! :o

they’re in the snow for ‘ticket to ride’!!! :D

me lol :D

what a giffable shot! :D

ooh music notes! :D

penny lane much? ;)

oh no the guys are watching them... ;)

the lads are saying ‘oh ho ho ho’ WHAT HIGH DORKS

OMG RINGO!!!!!!

he says ‘ouch ouch ouch’ when rolling down the snow lol :D

*OH HO HOS INTENSIFY*

evil snowman... >:)

the bad guys have a curling bomb and one of them keeps saying everything he does lol :D

george: “hey it’s thingie! a fiendish thingie!!” lol :D

guy: “useless! what rubbish!” *THINGIE BLOWS UP A SECOND LATER* lol :D

snowman battle! :o

guy: “in the name of kindness, stop! stop!” the lads: *don’t stop*

HOLY FRICK THEY’RE BEING FLAMETHROWERED

paul running into john at the train station... ;)

ooh sherlock holmes reference!!!!!! :D

ringo: “they have a different religion... i think” lol :D

the scotland guy is mimicking ringo and ringo’s not impressed lol :D

why are the bad guys playing indian music in the phone booth WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE

999 is 911! :D

OMG IT’S MY FAVE HELP SONG ‘I NEED YOU’!!!!! :D

wowza editing in person! :o

paperback writer much? ;)

‘she’s a woman’ from past masters is playing on a walkie talkie! :D

the chief thinks it’s shocking and hates it lol

chief: “take this hastily scribbled note hastily!” lol :D

motorcycle go brrrr

guy: “they shall not pass!” gandolf who

‘the night before is playing!!!! :D

what a cool shot!

‘she’s a woman’ interrupted it no!!!! :/

OMG TNT

good ‘night before’ is back! :D

the lip syncing was kinda off tho

the bad guys are in camoflage and it’s like we’re in ww1!

the song ends ON A BIG AF EXPLOSION WTF

OMG THEY’RE USING MACHINE GUNS THIS IS SERIOUSLY WW1 NOW TH FRICK

i came here to watch beatles NOT THE WAR

oh no john fell! :o

ringo: “get up johnny! get up for me, baby!” lennstarr tho ;)

so many explosions I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS

guy: “MISSED you naughty boys!!!” ...plz dont call them that :/

victory music is playing did the bad guys win???

wtf is going on THIS ISN’T THE GREAT WAR IT’S THE HELP! WAR

buckingham??? :0

i swear if john is in nothing but a sheet-

not your lockie’s palace ;)

ringo: “IT APPEARS i need one card. IT APPEARS i need to chuck one in” IT APPEARS that you need to emphasize that for some reason...

them playing cards is so domestic :)

ringo: “i don’t just use my drumstick for drummin’” paul: “well what else is it for?” ringo: “i use it!” OH GOD WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT RONGLES

john: “we’re risking our lives for the most useless member!” is that fingo or ringo

ringo: “let that be an end to it, END TO IT” same ringo

omg the palace is haunted! :o

OMG QUEEN REFERENCE???

OMG SOMEONE’S SHOOTING

the guards are tripping over each other!

the scientists are the guards!!!! :o

they made time slow down! :o

someone sprayed that red paint and the lads yeeted out of there! :o

they’re in a bar DRINK DRINK DRINK EVERYBOOODY!!!!”

paul to ringo: “you’re a rat underneath aren’t you?” OHHHHH ROASTED!!!!!

paul used to wink at paul... mcharrison has sailed! :D

OMG TIGER ROAR WHAT

ringo’s alone with it no! :o

thanks for the clarification?

lady to ringo: “don’t move!” ringo to ‘a tiger’: “don’t move, that’s what she said!” lol :D

why is she whistling the 9th symphony

they’re all singing it to make the tiger calm and ringo’s like “ok!!”

A WHOLE CROWD IS SINGING IT WHAT

this is legit abbey road! :o

ooh bahamas!

i love how george is taking pics of everything :D

i didn’t think cameras sounded like static back then tho...

oh no THE CHIEF IS THERE TOO!!!!! :o

BOI WHY DID HE SLAP A GUY

no the scientist is there too! :o

prepare for the beatle bahamas battle lads...

idk what pc is but they all the soldiers all named that

ooh ‘another girl’! :D

i heard it was cold when the lads filmed the movie so rip to their arms :/

CAKE

so much purple! :o

hey john! :D

george: “let’s play a game it’s called peep peep peep peep-“ yup THEY SO INCREDIBLY HIIIGHHHH

THEY’RE SAYING ‘OH HO HO HO’ AGAIN WHY

the lady said ringo’s getting ‘disembowled’ and john’s like “keeps ye busy eh?” like the lil’ bish he is

ringo: “i don’t want to knock anyone’s religion but-” *runs away*

bike lads! :D

they keep saying ‘let’s go back and get ‘em!” yep they hiiiigh

a triumphant one of ‘i’m so happy to dance with you’ is playing!! :D

OMG ONE OF THE BAD GUYS IS SKYDIVING

wtf bro

paul’s explaining things cryptically and george is like ‘why tho’

paul: “there’s the temple and that swimming pool and... i’m lost” lol :D

ringo: “read on” B)

OMG ISSA TRAP!!!!

george: “typical!” lol :D

WHAT DOES ‘KAILI’ MEAN

RINGO GO UNDER!!

omg he’s in the orange blanket! :o

ringo: “HEEEEELP!!! help me!!!” title drop roll credits! :D

dere he is! :D

i remember seeing that before i was a fan and thinking it wasn’t beatles lol

john: “he’s got a plan” paul: “a really famous plan!” john: “a plan superintendent...” superintendent: “you see i’ve got a plan!” ...i think he has a plan

OMG ‘HARD DAY’S NIGHT’ IS PLAYING SO TRIUMPHANTLY

the plan is baseball?

#spon

smoooosh

everyone’s calling for ringo and george is beating his chest lol :D

THE SCIENTISTS GOT WINGO NOOOOOO

scientist: “dust in the generator. gets everywhere” and it’s rough & coarse too...

the lady is saving ringo!

the scientist doesn’t need the ring now that he has...’nobel prize juice’?”

they keep saying ‘eastern’ as the language.... :/

ringo: “i can’t swim!” lady: “what do you mean you can’t swim?” he means HE CAN’T SWIM LADY!!!!

oh no THE SACRIFICE!!!!

the sacrifice involves a horrible, inaccessible name... voldemort?

he’s free!!!! :D

ringo: “i don’t subscribe to your religion!” lol :D

‘help’ is playing again! :D

and the chief has the ring now... >:)

...what does that have to do with anything tho

and with the trippy credits came the end of the movie! the only help i’ll be needing is why it was more weird than yellow sub but i had such a fun time with it (especially the snow scene and ‘i need you’)! what a great movie! :D

#livewatch #if there's one word to describe this it's not 'help!' it's 'chaotic!'#especially since i lost 30 minutes of commentary when tumblr glitched out #still a great movie! :D

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