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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

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I live in the neighbourhood - Part 3

What happened to the cycling classes after work and the occasional drinks with coworkers? Now it was flying to Italy to vacation for the December holidays with Harry and his family and friends.

Ok part 3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and the final part of ilitn i believe! let me know what you think! plssss! Not proofread, but your support means the most and it means the world to see your thoughts, literally anything about it, and this little harry I always have to remember that’s the simp your honor ^ right there! anyway happy reading!

Read Part 1 | 2

Word Count: 10.9k | Warnings: swearing, smut! (finally) - oral (m+f receiving, dirty talk, choking? i can’t remember ngl there might not be, sloppy sex, outdoors by the pooldeck just btw, christmas, idk but hopefully nothing I missed, feelings! happy ending (possibly rushed

“You’re really flying to Italy and then traipsing around the Italian countryside for three weeks with Harry and his family? I cannot believe you’re leaving me behind.”

“You’re gonna kill me for saying this, but he had said I could invite a friend or two if I wanted. But I thought it’d be weird with his family so you literally can’t be mad at me!”

“Fine. I’ll move past it, but how did you move past the whole panic attack? Like you barely spoke to him for a month and then he’s on your doorstep and you’re kissing and agreeing to a Roman Holiday?”

“It’s Harry,” she sighs, laying down on her couch. “How could I not, I got scared because he was gone, but once he was back, nothing else mattered.”

“I guess,” Cate mumbles.

“Oof, sorry Cate I have another call, I’ve got to go…”

By the time she tries to pick up the other line has gone to a message and she’s left to listen to her boss over a voicemail:

“Hey Y/N, I know your holidays have just begun, but I wanted to inform you that you’ll be getting a new client in the new year. Big artist! Anyway, just wanted to inform you that I’ll be emailing over some of their paperwork. Feel free to ignore it until the new year! Have a nice trip.”

She sighs. “Interesting...but will definitely be waiting for the new year to even think about work,” she says to herself.

She throws her phone to the side. Tired of all the phone tag and messages she had begun to have to deal with as the Holiday season dawned more and more upon her. She had more important things to think about. Most important being the suitcase laid out before her and the flight she was bound to be taking in less than 24 hours. This time, she wouldn’t be picking Harry up from the airport. No, this time they were flying out of London Heathrow together.

Together together? She wasn’t sure. The kiss on her doorstep and plea of Italian holiday meant a lot to her, but did it scream committed relationship? She had no idea when it came to Harry. Maybe it was better not to ask and just wait until he told her. Wondering had gotten her in a pit last time and she never wanted to feel the way she had over the last month while he had been gone.

She sleeps in her bed for one last night before leaving for a month. Harry had managed to convince the airline to allow Rori to ride with them in first class, so she wouldn’t have to leave her dog in a kennel or with friends during the holidays. She was grateful for that and she just didn’t understand how she had gotten so lucky as to have someone like Harry in her life.

They fly first class and while Harry had secured her ticket last minute, she insisted that he take her money to pay for the ticket. She was determined to not lose herself in this process. She would happily go along with Harry’s crazy life as long as she maintained her constitution. And paying for her own ticket was one of her ways of doing that.

The flight is short, a quick jaunt compared to the arduous trips across the Atlantic, both her and Harry were quite used to from their work and family lives. He smiles at her throughout the journey, coming across the aisle often to check on her and pet Rori. He would make little jokes that wouldn’t make anyone else laugh but them and he would grab the airpod she would take out and play whatever she had been listening to and offer a dance. His little dances were so sweet, if strange and awkward in the small flight cabin.

She wore grey marbled leggings and a matching thick strapped tank top beneath a nondescript hoodie. Harry’s dressed quite nice for traveling, she presumes in case he’s papped. Linen trousers, a collared coat, and some beaded necklaces he had taken to wearing over the last few months - each month seemed to add on another necklace, but she wasn’t counting.

He had reminded her to bring large sunglasses for the airport.

He had said “I don’t care if we’re seen together, but it’s more for your comfort. I hate when my friend’s lives are put on display for the whole world. You’re not the one who signed up for this.”

She had been appreciative and grabbed her largest pair of sunglasses because truthfully she didn’t want to be seen with Harry. She didn’t want the whole world knowing her or her business, it wasn’t who she was. No, not at all. So when they step off the plane and head to baggage claim after customs, she feels aware of her surroundings in a way she never has been. It reminds her of the way Jeff, Charlotte, and Mitch had conducted themselves in the bar that one time. Extremely alert. Watching people’s eye movements and considering whether they recognized her companion. She trails behind him a fair amount, three paces at least. Harry glances back every few moments, checking in to make sure she’s still with him as they move through the bustling airport.

They make it to baggage claim with no stops, but sadly Harry’s luggage seems to give him away. That or just his presence, he was a 6 foot tall and extremely broad man who gave off this energy that couldn’t help but turn eyes. And all it took was one of those eyes to recognize the fluff of hair, the olive-y skin, the peaking bird tattoos and colorful necklaces to alert the world of just where he was.

He doesn’t get stopped for any pictures, but she feels the number of eyes on him grow. She also watches as Harry doesn’t shrink from the growing attention. If anything, it simply makes him move quicker, but only slightly. He glances at her once to see her hood up and big green glasses covering up half her face. Rori has left his carrier and is covering the other half as she pushes a cart in front of her. He makes a nondescript nod and then sets off towards the exit, she follows behind easily.

By the time they’re in the car that was waiting to drive them to Harry’s villa, he’s gotten buzzed by Jeff just to check-in since a few photos have been uploaded of him at the airport. People were so fast. She shook her head in disbelief as she looked up Harry Styles on twitter and saw the scene she had just been apart of minutes ago on her screen now. She’s unrecognizable in the photos she happens to appear in and to everyone else she looks like another traveler instead of Harry’s companion or whatever she was to him. Instead of his friend.

Harry calls Jeff as they’re driven to his lovely sprawling home near Lake Como. He informs him they’re fine - he is quick to ensure that Y/N is well after asking her himself once they had gotten into the confines of the small car. She thinks it’s sweet especially because she was sure that Jeff really was more focused on Harry and his well-being since he was both his friend and his client while she was just an extra. The two men talk about the flight and customs and what Jeff will be doing with his holiday since he had turned down Harry’s invitation to come out to Italy as well. This leaves her to stare out the window at the passing scenery. She and Rori are completely content with this as they watch the tranquil life around them as they pass by little forests and towns over cobblestoned ground.

The colors seem brighter throughout Italy compared to the sad and gloomy winter of London. The dreary scape traded for something far more picturesque. Italy growing ever more beautiful the closer they drive to Harry’s home. Everything was so radiant, from the sun shining above her head to the little dew drops still pooled on the perfectly green leaves of plants she knew not the names of.

The car pulls up to the long driveway to Harry’s place which he insisted was just a house, but she knew better. The driveway felt like half a mile of perfect cobblestones, seemingly handpicked to make the smoothest drive. Outside the house sat a gorgeous little convertible that was in between steel and cream and sparkled in the sun. The top was currently up, but she could tell the interior was just as nice as the exterior. Harry had a thing for cars and she suspected that no matter where he was, he managed to keep his cars in perfect condition.

The house was breathtaking due to its simultaneous simplicity and intricacy. It’s coloring was variations of cream and gold and some terra cotta. But it sprawled into the hillside behind it and wrapped around the nature to the side of it and the pool to the back right of it. There also was a little separate shed like thing that also seemed to be a residence. Harry insisted it was just an extra bedroom, but it looked like almost another house to her.

As she stepped out of the car, she thought that she might get lost in that house if she was left to wander around it by herself. A feeling she feared to get accustomed to.

The door of the house was a dark green that seemed oddly familiar to her as she walked through it. And when Harry looked back to make sure she had gotten in the house alright she recognized it. His door somehow matched the color of his eyes in dark lighting. A green that was timeless and ancient at the same time. A green that was unnerving yet inviting. A green that was Harry. She never thought she had a favorite color, but in that moment she was sure it was his eyes.

Harry calls her name and she realizes he’s been saying it for awhile.

“Sorry?”

He smiles fondly at her confused face and leans towards her as if he might kiss her. She stops breathing in that moment, wanting more than anything for that to be his next move. His chest brushes against hers, his warmth invading her space. His face is a mere milimeter from hers and she can count every speck of stubble on his jaw. But his lips don’t brush gently over hers in a way that she knew was addicting. Instead, his strong hand reaches past her and shuts the entrancing green door gently.

His eyes flicker back to her face when he pulls back, taking a single step backwards to allow for a comfortable space between them. Still close, but not like he’s about to embrace her expecting frame and kiss her.

“I asked if you wanted a tour of the house? Or if you just wanted me to pick your room.” His eyes are crinkled at the corner, a smile on his face even though his mouth is hung open in a lingering question.

She blinks her eyes and twitches her head to glance around the rest of her surroundings. Rori had run off the moment they had gotten in the door. The hallway Harry and she found themselves was narrow and simple, a single painting right behind Harry’s head was the sole decoration and a tapestry style rug beneath their feet. She nods after a moment, feeling all her words caught somewhere in her throat for no reason at all.

“Good,” he nods and gives her a funny look, trying to understand her quiet demeanor. “Just drop your stuff here for now,” he adds.

His hand encircles her wrist, as it had grown accustomed to, to lead her through the house. She bites her lower lip to muffle the little giggle that somehow escapes her as he tugs her playfully down and through the house.

He goes on about almost every piece of art and trinket he has hung and placed throughout the house. Each thing has its story and Harry waxes eloquent on every single one. He shows her each room in the house and then leads her outside through the single door of the master bedroom on the second floor. The door takes them onto a small balcony that overlooks the center of the estate which included the pool and then a garden to the left of the converted poolhouse - what Harry insisted it be called when Y/N had told him it was a mini house.

His hand has traveled down to intertwine with hers as the tour had drawn on. So as he leads her down the little spiral staircase to the ground floor, she hums at the warmth his thumb rubs into her skin ever so softly. His eyes flicker to her face and hold her gaze for a moment as he watches her descend the last two stairs.

She smiles at him, her cheeks rosy from the air outside. They walk between the garden and the pool to reach the “converted pool house” and she stops for a moment to dance her fingers through the perfectly clean pool water - he must have had a housekeeper who came by recently to open everything up and clean it all.

“This is truly amazing, Harry,” she sighs as she stares out at the entire house from the single stone upstep to the little cottage. It gave her a view of the entire place besides the front of the house. It was gorgeous.

Harry nods, tucking his head to his chest slightly, possibly feeling a little bashful. Behind the successful man that stood before her was a young boy with a dream that had made this possible and he never forgot that.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely and unlocks the door of the cottage, a similar green is painted on this door as well.

She goes ahead of him at his request and he watches her fingers on the green paint, caressing it softly, each finger never wishing to leave it as they slowly depart its surface. This place is just a microcosm of the house they had just been. A kitchenette, a living area, a bedroom, and a full bath - including a freestanding tub.

She all but runs around the place, fingers running over the countless spines of books that Harry mindlessly chose to store there in ceiling high bookshelves and eyes taking in prints of personal photography he had been too nervous to store anywhere but here. There were larger poster sized prints as well as smaller ones, all black and white, of different scenes on the walls of the living area. Some were portraits of loved ones, others were landscapes of cities and countryside alike, and some were of past lovers with their hair swept behind them as they looked back at Harry in some beautiful place. She smiled at these obviously film photographs and turned to Harry after a moment, almost mirroring the people in the more personal pictures.

“When’s the last time you used your camera?” She asks.

Harry’s figure is perched in the door, his body slightly slumped on the frame while he rolls his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. He hums, thinking back to the last time he took out his camera.

“Last tour...I think. I got film back with Camille in it and I just didn’t feel like putting more in it after that,” he rasps out and clears his throat at the end, clearly unnerved by the topic.

“Well, these are beautiful, you have a smart eye for catching precious moments,” she smiles softly, understanding Harry’s apprehension.

“Thanks,” his voice still a bit deeper than usual, “I still use my Super8 pretty regularly when I’m doing things for work. Like when I shoot music videos, I usually bring it along to get my own footage for later.”

She only nods and watches him enter the room, moving closer to her to gaze at the images more up close as well.

“I like to have something to remember it by. Just in case, someday,” he starts and sighs, eyes trained on the wall of memories, “My mind isn’t what it once was.”

She watches him delicately place his hand on the couch behind them to brace himself and she notices the slight fear in his face as he says it. She blinks at the scene in front of her. A man in an amazing moment in his life fearful that it might all disappear from his vision someday. A horrible thought that seems to plague him more often than one would expect.

She nudges closer to him immediately. Her shoulder brushes his arm as she presses her head to his own shoulder and stays there firmly.

“Thank you,” she whispers and his head drops down to look at her face now radiating warmth against him. “For sharing this with me.”

His hand on the couch moves to wrap around her shoulders and pull her closer. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around his waist and he rests his head atop of hers. He stays silent but places a chaste kiss in her hair. She squeezes harder, telling him everything is alright and all he had to be with her was himself.

He switches his gaze between the girl wrapped up in him and the pictures of the rest of his life in front of him and he takes it all in. He feels safe, a comfort he was hard pressed to find with his life always on the move. The bustling change felt eons away while he was wrapped up in her. She was constant and kind. Understanding. She took him as he was, no expectations. That realization has him melting further into her, his head dropping down to her shoulder and nosing into her hair. His hands cusping at the back of her neck and the small of her back. And he presses firmly yet gently.

They stand there, swaying slightly to an unknown tune that played only in their private world of just them two.

A branch sways too and breaks them out of their reverie when it taps against the French doors that lead out to somewhere else in Harry’s estate.

“I think I’d like to stay here, if that’s alright,” she says, pulling back from him only slightly.

His hands migrate from their embrace around her back and neck and slide to her hip and her shoulder separately. Her hands both rest on his chest and she feels his consistent heartbeat that she had been listening to for the last few minutes against her ear.

His eyes sparkle at her suggestion. “Really? There’s plenty of spots in the main house,” he rushes.

“No, I love this place,” she glances around once more, soaking in the cozy room that housed Harry’s art. “Plus, your family will be here tomorrow and you should all be together under one roof for the holidays. I know how rare that can be.”

He nods in agreement and twists a tendril of her hair around one of his fingers slowly. She doesn’t notice until he makes an experimental and playful tug on it. Her lips purse at the feeling and her eyes narrow.

“You’re an evil little thing under all those layers of niceties and kind words, Mr. Styles,” she says as she pulls away from him.

Now that it was decided on where she would be staying for the next few weeks, she wanted to get her things settled and take a shower possibly. She also needed to check in on Rori and see what he had gotten up to while they had been wandering.

Harry laughs, filled with an unmatched glee as he follows her out of the cottage and back into the main house, “I can show you evil if that’s what you want, dove. I’ll give you anything you want.”

And while she knows he’s saying this in jest, she knows he’s also telling the truth. He’d give her just about anything she wanted, all she had to do was ask.

After settling the house a bit, finding where Rori wanted to sleep - he chose inside the main house, and some showers, she and Harry both felt refreshed.

She walked out of the front door of the cottage and crossed to the French doors at the middle point of the house. They had them open to get fresh air in the house and she walked right through and into the kitchen where she found Harry and her dog happily perched on the countertop.

Rori batted at Harry’s hands and nuzzled into his scratches as Harry cradled him to his chest. It was criminally sweet and she knocked on the door frame to pull Harry’s attention away from her furry friend.

“You look nice,” Harry smiles.

She glances down at her outfit; a cashmere olive colored sweater and high waisted cream corduroys along with her sneakers of choice. She thought it was casual, but she appreciated the compliment nonetheless. She murmurs a thanks and a quick “you too”, she didn’t even need to look at what he was wearing, he always looked good. Her head tilts to rest on the door frame as well, her eyes trained on Harry’s face.

“Do you want to go for a drive?” He inquires as he places Rori back on the ground.

The dog scampers to her side for a moment before running off to do his own thing. Her lips quirk up on the sides and her eyes narrow slightly. He’s looking at her with a quiet confidence set in his jaw that she doesn’t quite understand.

His smile makes her bite her lip, slightly unnerved by the energy he was giving off. Maybe it was because they were completely alone - not something new to them since that’s how they interacted almost solely, but something about being in Italy seemed to have shifted the dynamic. Something in the water or whatever that saying was.

“Do I get to drive?” She stands from her leaning position and crosses in front of him.

His laugh comes out quickly and heartily. “No chance, dove.”

She groans and pushes at his shoulder.

“Trust me, you’ll like it better. Can just enjoy the scenery, don’t have to focus on the road.”

He wraps a hand around her waist and then scoots her towards the door that would lead them out of the house. She giggles at the contact and she feels him watching her. It felt nice, felt simply theirs.

He drove her down the driveway and onto a country road until it merged into a road by the lake. He brought the top down so the wind rushed around them, blustering about as he drove at a quick yet somehow leisurely pace. She glanced at the scenery and took a few pictures, but something else kept demanding her attention.

Harry. He was a quiet kind of handsome in this moment. It wasn’t in your face, it was just how each curve of his skin seemed perfectly placed. Every pore was clear and every mole had a reason. His tattoos peeking from his collar and shirt sleeves were that perfect inky black that remained smooth. It was consistent, the way his hair fell over his forehead and he would smooth it back without even thinking. His eyes were focused and bright, yet slightly stormier than normal. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. And she wondered what she had done to be beside him at that moment. Wondered what it was that she had done to be cared for by Harry.

His hand on her leg brings her out of her mind once again. His looks always seemed to get her lost in thought. He was just that special. No one else had ever caused any similar reaction. His fingers splay on her thigh, no rings on them today. He rubs his thumb back and forth softly and she leans closer to him to whisper in his ear. They were completely alone, but it felt like something even the wind didn’t deserve to hear.

He tilts his head to her, eyes flickering to her movement for a moment and then back to the road. His hand on her thigh slips upwards with how she moves.

“I’m the most lucky girl in the world,” she says, her lips brushing the shell of his ear as she says the words.

She pulls back and stares at him, her hand going down to her thigh to play with his lovingly. He looks at her again and sees her serious expression. This causes him to pull over on the side of the road by the water. He rubs at her thigh again with his thumb and she shifts in her seat.

“And why’s that?” His voice low as he asks and shifts the car into park.

“Because I’m here, with you. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything in this world.”

He hums in response and licks at his lips when her sweater happens to fall off her shoulder. She notices the slip, but doesn’t bother to fix it since she also saw how Harry’s eyes danced over the newly exposed skin.

“I wouldn’t trade this either” the words dance slowly off the tip of his tongue. His accent fuller as he says the last word. “Let’s walk around,” Harry suggests when he sees her eyes flicker between his and his lips.

They explore the grassy area that lives just before the dip of the water at Harry’s request. He guides her along with his hand entwined with hers. Her eyes stay on only him still, the scenery unable to compare to the beauty of him that she was just fully realizing how bad she wanted to be enveloped in. His profile is illuminated by the sun shining above them and she swears he’s sparkling under the light.

The fear of what they were and all of the things that came along with labels were the furthest away thoughts. The man who had been the quirky neighbour had transformed into the man she was pretty sure she was in love with. Too afraid to say those three words, she decided the best thing she could do was to show rather than tell.

“Harry,” she calls and he stops his wandering, turning to face her instead.

A hand reaches up to trace over his strong cheekbone and caresses down the side of his face and cradles his slightly stubbled jaw. Her thumb rubs over the place where his dimple often showed up. He sighs into her touch and says her name back. His voice fails him as he gazes down at her, everything he means to say dies in his throat, for once at a loss for words.

She purses her lips and reaches up to connect their lips, having missed his sweet lips touch. They were meant to press against hers. Harry seems to forget how to breathe, her initiating the kiss between them, something foreign to him, but not unwelcome. He leans down to make it easier on her and she glows in his reciprocation. His hand shifts to cradle the back of her head as the kiss continues. Their lips dance, brushing back and forth, tongues slightly licking into one another’s mouths ever so delicately, playfully even.

A specific clash of teeth as the kiss continues leads to a breathless laugh from her as Harry presses himself closer to her. His other hand pressing her waist safely into him. She happily obliges, sinking one hand to rest over his backside which makes him smile.

“Naughty,” he mumbles against her brightening lips, eyebrows bobbing over his closed eyes.

She laughs now, her head tilting up for a moment, eyes opening to look at his face, yet up so close it's just his eyes and upper cheeks. His eyes are extra large from this angle and the grey green they had been dancing between had merged into a darkening seafoam green that was rather rare for them. She wanted to take an inventory of every color his eyes managed to be, but she was sure the list would never end.

“You like it,” she quips back, a peck sneaked at the corner of his mouth. That little love touch leads to more minutes of making out. Her supple and soft chest against his strong one, hands roaming the other’s body searching for purchase. Soft sighs and gentle moans leave Harry’s mouth when she nibbles at his ear and leaves loving kisses to his neck and collarbone. She makes similar sounds when he laves his tongue over the hollow of her neck and mouths happily on her neck.

The sight of them is two lovers enthralled in each other’s mouths and bodies in a meadow beside a lake. The sounds of nature are only overtaken by their happiness with each other.

When he ruts his hips against her body and she writhes against him with eagerness previously not seen, Harry realizes just how in public they are and he pulls away. A whine of discontent falling from her lips before she can control herself.

“We should…” He falters again, staring down at his neighbour he had begun to want more than anything else in the world, “Should head back.”

“Right,” she nods curtly.

Hands falling back to her sides, but Harry grabs one of them and intertwine their fingers as they had them before. She smiles so wide her eyes crinkle at the corners and he can’t help himself to peck at the left side of her temple.

They drive back to the house and Harry suggests a dip in the pool which Y/N agrees to easily. Something to cool them off from the heavy makeout session they had partaken in down by the water.

“Everyone else is arriving tomorrow,” Harry says after he surfaces from his expert dive into the deep end. He treads water lightly and drifts towards her.

She’s floating on her back a little ways from him. Her hair was shimmery all wet again and the skin of her face glowed with tiny droplets. Her eyes were closed as she moved her hands back and forth through the comfortable water.

She feels his eyes on her, burning into her, waiting for a response. She peaks open one eye and looks at him. His cheeks pinken quickly from the slight embarrassment of being caught, but he doesn’t look away.

“It’s going to be really fun, Harry,” she rights herself and swims closer to him causing him to smile happily. “I’m really happy to be here.”

“It won’t be just us anymore,” he says, swimming backwards and creating a slight chase for her as she follows after him.

She narrows her eyes at his tactics, but still follows as he swims to the edge of the pool where they could both stand.

“Nope, but we’re gonna really get the holiday spirit flowing. Family dinners and games, shopping for gifts...this really is one of my favorite times of the season,” she smiles back at him and puts her hand against the edge of the pool, her chest emerging from beneath the cooling water.

Droplets roll down her chest, racing down her body and in between her cleavage. Harry’s eyes follow the water droplets disappearing beneath her bright red tied bikini top. He gets distracted when the air pebbles her nippls beneath the thin wet fabric, his tongue darts out to wet his lips at the sight. The round of her breast was especially full in the thin fabric. He had never seen this much of her despite their friendship lasting for many months now. It was...mouthwatering and his eyes stayed trained on her breasts as they rhythmically moved up and down with her breathing. It was like a spell.

That he was brought out of when a splash of water flicks at his face. She gives him an obvious look saying she had caught him staring and then she rolls her eyes at his smirk obviously not embarrassed by his latest fixation.

“We won’t be alone like this,” he steps closer to her, his own chest running with water droplets. His hair messy and wet atop his head as he pushes it off his forehead. “Possibly at all for the next three weeks,” he continues and hears her breath catch as he moves even closer. His body hovers a moment away from hers as he stares down at her. His nose almost brushes hers as he starts to lean down. She stays almost completely still. Her head moves though to allow Harry access to where his mouth seems to be headed, the side of her neck.

“After today,” he whispers before smudging an open mouthed kiss just below her ear.

A small gasp escapes her at his hot breath and a searing kiss against her chilled skin. She feels his smirk on her skin as he continues down her neck, leaving spongy eager kisses down the column.

“Well, I don’t think that’s a problem,” she tries to remain composure, feeling the burn inside of her pitch back up. The fire had dulled from the kissing by the lake once they had swam, but here he was pressing into her once again. Suddenly more eager and forward than he had ever been. Her breathing is hard to regulate with his expert hands running along her naked sides below the water and his legs backing her into the edge of the pool while his lips make love to her neck.

“Oh?” Harry hums, moving a hand up to fiddle with a strap of her top, the wet nylon twisting easily and then he lets it snap back softly. Her arousal only grows from the tiny smack. “Not a problem, eh?” His lips travel down between her breasts and she gasps in anticipation.

“Won’t be able to make you feel this good anytime you want,” he breathes and then ghosts over her covered pebbled nipple.

“You’re a tease, Harry,” she grips at his shoulders that are hunched to allow him to kiss on her. Her eyes having the perfect view of his curved neck and spine, the skin an expanse of clear perfect flesh, no tattoos in sight from this angle. The little curls at the nape of his neck trickling with spare droplets as he sucks on her own skin.

“Hmm…” his lips travel back up to the underside of her jaw causing her to tilt her head back and her stimulated chest to press into Harry’s. A chuckle passes against her skin as he feels her two points press into him.

Then, suddenly, he pulls back and grips at the back of her head to make her look at him. His eyes are deep and dark as the day starts to wear on, the sun beginning to set off in the distance.

“Maybe I need to demonstrate just what you’ll be missing out on?” He tilts his head at his suggestion and the glimmer in his eyes shows that he knows exactly what he has to say to get his friend - and soon to be lover - riled up.

Her chest heaves once, longing for the warm touch of Harry’s lips again. “What are you getting at?”

“Wanna make you feel so good you’re begging me to call my family up and tell them to not bother coming because we won’t be leaving your bed for the next few weeks.”

A breathless laugh leaves her, in disbelief, but also in wanton need. Her desire for him grew tenfold in the last ten minutes. His last sentence leaves her itching with longing. For his touch as he promised it.

“Give me the best you got then,” she challenges, her conviction never wavering despite her needy state.

That little sentence is what sets Harry’s eyes ablaze and has him gripping her waist and picking her up and setting her on the edge of the pool.

A quick press of his lips against hers and a “wait here” before he’s pulling himself from the water and shuffling to grab one of the towels he had laid out. She watches him curiously, confused why he had just promised to ravage her but was pausing to towel off.

He comes back with the towel and lays it behind her.

“Harry, what are -”

A finger presses to her swollen lips as his other hand goes to her shoulder and lays her back.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

She nods, eyes wide and glassy as she stares up at him kneeling over her, his body between her bent knees. He leans down to press another kiss to her lips and then begins his decent.

“Gonna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart,” he whispers.

Down her throat that he had happily been sucking on. His lips ghost over her still hard nipples and his hot breath has her arching off the ground immediately. A whine leaving her lips when he mouths between her two breasts in the valley just above the tie of suit. His fingers dance around on her skin, playing with her swimsuit fabric and she wants to scream at him to just untie it and really touch her, but she refrains. He continues his assault down her body. His hands grip at her knees when his lips travel below her navel. Her breaths have grown more strained as he’s gotten closer and closer to her heat. The cold wet fabric that covered her was a poor substitute to what she wanted to rub against her.

“Please,” she begs in a sigh as Harry’s lips skip where she wants him, instead traveling to her upper inner thigh.

He spreads her legs wider with his arms and her back arches further, her body just about fully on display for Harry. His eyes flicker up to her face that was staring right back down at him, watching his every move.

The cheeky bottoms left little to the imagination and the ties on the sides were so enticing Harry’s fingers smoothed up her thighs and began to toy with them. His face now hovering over her clothed center. His breath fanning the flames of her arousal just below the cherry fabric.

“See,” he smirks, eyes back on her face, “I haven’t even touched you yet, but you’re already begging.

“You’re an ass,” she grits out, trying to not be bothered by how easily he has gotten her in this position.

He clicks his tongue and tugs experimentally at one of the bottoms ties, “S’not a very nice thing to say to the man who’s about to stick his tongue in ya’?”

She gasps and slaps at his right shoulder at his crudeness. “You’re dirty!”

“And you’re wet,” he says confidently, smirking up from between her legs.

His fingers finally tug the ties undone and pull the fabric away from her center. The red bikini bottom falls limply to the ground and Harry’s eyes train on her glistening mound. Wet with the pool water as well as her arousal. To add to the cool air ghosting over her newly exposed skin, Harry blows his own breath over her. She writhes at the sensation, she bites at her lip to hold back any possible moans.

He glances at her face again and settles one arm to be wrapped around her leg and pressing down on her left hip. His other hand snakes between his face and her body and lightly drags between her folds. She bucks her body again, completely in need of some friction after all of the build up and teasing of today. Every nerve down there was electrified at the possibility of Harry finally touching her like this.

His finger pulls back and a string of arousal clings to him, a testament to the filthy thoughts she had about her neighbour. Thoughts she had pushed away for so long until recently. Thoughts she only indulged in in the dead of night, when she was exhausted but her mind insisted on wandering to the green sharp eyes that might stare at her if he ever were to delve into her depths. Her hands would travel to where he was now and rub out a triumphant shake of her thighs and heaving chest all in hopes that maybe he would bring her to that euphoria himself one day. Well that day was today.

He filthily takes that finger into his mouth and grins. “So wet,” he corrects.

His eyes disappear from view as he launches into his work. His drying curls flop over his forehead and tickle at her lower stomach slightly. He flattens his tongue and licks a strong stripe between her folds. The wet from her weeping hole spreads to her lips and around her clit as his finishes the lick with a little swirl. He uses his free hand to spread apart her lips a little more and takes the new angle to suck on the little puffy nub that is already throbbing. She gasps audibly when he pulls off of it with a squelching sound.

“Fuck,” he sighs and goes back to eating her out, happily pressing his tongue into her.

His hand on her hip travels to grope at one of her breasts and he deftly pulls at the top’s tie and grips onto her skin underneath the fabric. The strong grip mixed with his expert work between her thighs has her moaning loudly and her body writhing as he builds her up.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he rasps, thumb on her nipple flicking happily back and forth. “Scream it out,” he says into her quivering center, “Nobody around to hear you, be as loud as you want.”

She moans louder at his words, her hands gripping harder into his hair. The thought of this scene turns her on even more. In all honesty, if someone did hear them she’d kind of like it. If someone walked in and saw her stretched out next to the pool with their wet bodies writhing against each other in pleasure. Harry’s head buried between her thighs making her feel better than she ever has, her breasts falling out of their top as he massages them harshly.

“Taste so sweet,” he groans, lapping at her tight hole, the muscle contracting against his tongue’s invasion.

She liked how messy he got with it, not that she really had much coherent thoughts in this moment. But his hot tongue swiping up and down and back and forth over her glistening lips and sucking on her clit left her breathless. Her juices and his saliva were making a mess of her thighs and the towel below her. When Harry felt her getting closer he’d back off and pay attention to another part of her and then go back to sucking and nipping perfectly into her.

She was eventually stuttering out, “I’m going to cum, Harry.” Breathing becoming uneven as she was about to tip over the edge. He nods, sucking harder at her clit one last time before taking his tongue and pushing it in and out of her hole, one of his thumbs traveling to rub over her clit in quick succession.

“Cum for me, dove,” he mumbles quickly before going back to making her feel good.

She grips her own nipple now with one hand and Harry’s hair with the other, her hips pushing up into Harry’s face over and over again. And then she’s hitting her climax and tipping over the edge, a moan ripping from her throat and freezing on her face as Harry eats her out through it. His tongue licking over her quivering pussy. His thumb rubbing comforting circles around her clit until she stopped shaking. Her breathing slowing down, eyes fluttering open eventually. They lazily stare at the man below her who’s lips and chin are slick with her juices as he grins up at her.

“Do you want me to call my mum now or wait until you’re fully back on earth,” he says slyly and kisses the inside of her thigh once more. Eyes lovingly staying on her pleasured out face.

“Seriously talking about your mom while you’re still between my thighs,” she breathes out, completely in disbelief. Harry and her had never gone that far before and it was life changing. He had been right, even if she didn’t want to admit it, she wasn’t sure if she could go three weeks without that again.

He sits up and begins to gently pull back on her swim bottoms and tie them back up. She lays there watching him work.

“How about now?” He asks with a smirk, moving to sit beside her and help her sit up when her bottoms have been readjusted. The fabric against her newly sensitive area was definitely interesting, but she couldn’t care with Harry beside her. She ties off her top on her own, even though Harry gestured that he could do it.

“Shut up,” she laughs and takes a hand to caress at his cheek.

He nuzzles into her touch.

“You forget I’m staying in the cottage...separate from everyone else,” she winks at him.

“Think they’ll still be able to hear ya’ from in there, dove. You’re a loud one,” he bites the inside of his cheek as he teases her.

She huffs and drops her hand, “I was gonna return the favor, but now I don’t think so.”

It’s Harry’s turn to laugh and reach out to her face, he pulls her face close to his, bringing her eyes level with his. “I’m just teasing. Plus, you don’t need to return the favor, I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

A laugh bubbles from her lips at the thought of Harry wanting her as much as she wanted him and she pecks at his lips. She grimaces only a little, tasting herself on him still.

“We’ll just have to be sneaky,” she pulls back and rests her forehead against his.

“Yeah,” Harry breaths out. His breath hitches when he feels her hand begin to trail down his chest and fiddle with the hem of his shorts. Her eyes are trained on his, expressionless like she wasn’t beginning to palm his hardened length over his sticky swim shorts.

“I told you,” he musters, “You don’t have to.”

“But,” she rasps, finally. “I want to,” she licks her lips with determination, “Want to make you feel good, too.”

He hums as her soft fingers go back up to the hem of his shorts and he helps her pull them down as he gives a nod of approval to her watching eyes.

Her eyes widen when his length is finally revealed and its bright red tip stands tall and strong against Harry’s stomach, placing itself slightly just below one of the ferns. Harry watches her lick at her hand and then places it between his thighs, her body positioned right next to him. On her knees, she makes an experimental first pump, seeing how his body responded. Her eyes mainly watch his face and an open mouthed smirk twitches onto his face when he notices her gaze. She pumps him again, twisting her wrist this time and swiping at the precum leaking from his tip. A groan leaves Harry’s mouth at that and his stomach flexes, the skin beneath his many tattoos hardening.

“Feel good?” She inquires.

“Great,” he breathes out as she leans forward on her knees and attaches her mouth over his head.

She slowly moves her head down and attempts to fit his entire length into her mouth, but despite her best efforts, she can’t quite get her throat to open up for his entirety yet. After holding him there for a moment, his head scratching at the back of her throat, she pulls off. Heaving a sigh and continuing to work him with her hand, her now glassy eyes look at him. Saliva gathers at her mouth and Harry can’t help himself but reach one of his hands from behind him to her lips. He swipes at it and presses the wet to her lips which she sucks at eagerly, a whine hidden beneath the action.

When his hand pulls away she says, “You’re quite girthy.”

“Girthy?” He sputters, both at the funny comment but also that she’s said it while still jacking him off.

“Mhmm,” she nods seriously, “Couldn’t get you all in.”

“That’s alright,” he starts, but falters on a specifically masterful tug. She grins, knowing what she's doing to him. “You seem to excel, no matter the setbacks.”

“I’ll get it eventually,” she begins to speed up her strokes, “Just need a bit of practice.”

Then her lips are pressing back onto Harry’s prick. She sucks solely at his head and Harry moans out as he gets more sensitive. Then she slides down further and bops her head vigorously. She wants Harry to come undone for her just like she had for him. Make him feel like she had moments ago. And within a few more minutes of enthusiastic sucking and pumping of her hands, even some fondling of his balls which Harry had been extremely receptive to, she has him stuttering beneath her.

One hand gripping at her hair, while the other keeps him upright, Harry’s head is thrown back on his shoulders as he tries to keep his eyes open and trained on the girl taking him so well down her lovely little throat.

“I’m almost there, sweetheart,” he pants, his hips bucking up once as he begins to lose control.

This only spurs her forward, spit drooling down his cock every time she pulls back from his slightly. Her ass is high in the air now as she arches over his length, trying to get him to unload.

“Taking me so well,” Harry praises. “Fuck,” he exclaims at another squeeze of his balls.

She swirls her tongue around his runny head and then hollows her cheeks and sucks on him with everything she’s got. This has Harry cursing and repeating her name, his load spurting into her mouth as she stays still. His chest now covered in beads of sweat as he tries to catch his breath after tipping over the edge himself. His eyes are trained on her. She keeps her lips diligently around his cock, wanting to swallow everything he’s just expended. When he’s done, she pulls back and sits on her legs, swallowing quickly and staring at Harry as she does it.

His eyes bug at the sight. She was the hottest woman in the world and she’d just sucked him off so well that he’s pretty sure he saw stars. Then she made eye contact as she swallowed his cum with her pretty little bikini barely covering her anymore, as she seemed to shift slightly uncomfortable in her drying bottoms. God, he was fucked.

“Shit,” he says, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re an absolute angel.”

Harry’s family arrives the next day and the pair have a hard time keeping their hands off of each other. She doesn’t know why they decide to start this little game where they pretend like they don’t want to jump each other’s bones each minute of the day. But as the days go by, they maintain to his family and chosen family that they are only neighbours who became friends. Anne gives a knowing look to Gemma every so often and Gemma’s boyfriend whispers in her ear sometimes, but for the most part they buy it.

No one notices that some nights Harry’s or Y/N’s beds are vacant sometimes. They don’t see him descend his spiral staircase at midnight or see her scamper next to the pool and slip into her cottage in the wee hours of the morning.

In the nights, it’s Harry’s soft lips pressed against her hot skin, panting praise and leaving little bite marks that can’t be seen with clothes on. Her lips mouth at his shoulder when fills her up and she exhales a breath that feels like she’s been waiting to let go for her entire life. They make each other feel good and they don’t talk about it but the secrecy of it makes it all the more enticing.

At least that’s what she thinks. Harry had been completely ready to tell his family about him and Y/N, at least that things were new between them, but when she introduced herself to his mum and Gemma she had said she was a friend. Harry had gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing hard, taking in the change of direction and agreeing with Y/N immediately. “Just a friend” he confirmed with a nod of his head and glance at her. She had smiled wide and given a hug to the other most important women in his life like she’d known them forever.

He didn’t understand why she wanted it this way, but his objections would be forgotten when night fell and she’d do the things he’d only dreamt of. Her breathy whimpers and pliant body would all but wipe his mind of any other thoughts but her and then he had no complaints, just a wish for the night to never end.

Y/N doesn’t even tell Cate when she calls her a week into the trip. It’s just something she wants to keep to herself and Harry. Their own private world.

It’s Christmas Eve when that bubble pops. The Champagne has been flowing for hours non stop - well only stopping when a different drink is in their hands, whether that be red or white wine or a mixed drink Harry has decided to concoct.

In the big Italian house, he’s free of prying eyes and he’s able to truly spend quality time with his loved ones. They have fancy dinners at private restaurants, go on gorgeous hikes, swim, and relax. They have a good time with playing holiday games, which they do most nights when they stay in.

Tonight’s the first night that Harry and Y/N haven’t ended up on the same team. He fears that most times he cheats it by swapping a paper or two, but tonight the alcohol has fizzed his brain and he forgot. This shouldn’t be a problem, not really. Except that everyone in the house has learned over the past week and a half that besides being perfectly matched in almost everything else, Harry and her are both equally and extremely competitive. Being on the same team has both advantages and avoids squabbles like the one the house has found themselves in at half past 11.

Harry’s arguing that his team got the last question before the buzzer went off, but she won’t back down. She is sure that Gemma had said the correct answer, but after the timer had run out. Everyone else was too sauced to care, but Harry and her were adamant and passionate about game play. As the argument heats up, Anne gives Gemma another one of those looks.

Y/N has stood up and crossed the short distance to Harry. She’s a breath away from him and he puffs up his chest, his eyes dark and serious as he’s ready to fight for this win all night.

“The time was out,” she says simply, but her eyes are beginning to glower.

“No. It was not.” He states back.

His eyes narrow at her as she stares right back at him.

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

They go back and forth, rapid fire as the alcohol in their veins flows straight to their mind and hearts.

“Children please!” Gemma exclaims, finally growing tired of the bickering. “It’s Christmas. Harry show some spirit and let your guest have the final say.”

They think she’s done but then adds, “Or else she might never want to come back here.”

Harry exhales harshly through his nose as his gaze flickers to his older sister and listens to her scolding. Handing over the timer to Y/N, which had been what kept them from moving on, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room.

“Oh gosh,” Y/N says after a moment, her frazzled mind processing that Harry’s leaving has something to do with her. A hand goes to her lips for a moment, a ghost of his warm breath still there, but gone too soon.

“I’ll...I’ll be right back,” she confirms and exits the room, following Harry’s footsteps.

She finds him on his front porch step, his breath misting in the cold air, much like it would back in London when they’d walk the neighbourhood streets together.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she says, placing a hand on his left shoulder to really get his attention.

He turns from looking out at the clear night sky, his nose and cheeks already pinkened from the night breeze. His eyes are still dark out here, but there’s no malice or anger behind them. His lips tilt up on one side for a forgiving half smile, but there’s also some pain mixed in there.

“You wouldn’t not come back, right?” He asks helplessly, his smile faltering.

She swallows, taken aback by the question, both unsure of where it came from but also how exactly her drunk brain was supposed to respond with the double negatives.

“I’d come back next Christmas and the Christmas after that, Harry,” she whispers, “If you wanted me to of course.”

“Of course I’d want you to. I want you, sweetheart. All the time.” His voice isn’t slurred, but it’s raspy, a slight dry mouth from all the alcohol consumed tonight.

“Okay,” she confirms, “Then I’ll come back.”

They stand on the porch silently for a few minutes, eyes on one another, but no movement towards anything. It’s not a profound moment for their hazy minds, despite the meaning behind their words. It’s not quite clicking for them, but maybe tomorrow when they wake up with massive headaches it will register.

“I really am sorry,” she repeats when she sees little goosebumps begin to prick at his skin.

He had forgotten a jacket. And while his drunk blanket makes him immune to the feelings, her brain still registers that she doesn’t want him to get sick.

“S’alright. For what it’s worth, I was being a little childish. So, m’sorry too.” He says sincerely, maybe a little slurring of words slipping in.

He reaches a hand out of his pocket to touch at her upper arm. She can feel his warmth from beneath her thin long sleeve. They smile at one another and turn to reenter the house, feeling the giggly tide of alcohol wash over them again. Euphoria on their mind rather than family game malice.

Just as they’re about to open the door to the house. The two of them at the precipice of a house, a place they often find themselves, Gemma swings it open face and with little care for its heaviness. She glances between her brother and his “friend” and then up to the top of the door.

The top of the door? Why was she looking at the top of the door? Mistletoe.

“Mistletoe!” Gemma exclaims, pointing between the two of them. “You’re beneath the mistletoe, go on!”

Harry shakes his head in protest, falling onto the sword of friendship again. But then Y/N is grabbing at the back of Harry’s neck and pressing her lips to his. It’s a little sloppy, but Harry can’t help but enjoy the taste of her against him. They slot together like they usually do, but this time his sister is watching them, which is a little odd, but his muddled mind quickly forgets that fact. Her tongue is the deciding factor as it licks into his mouth and he licks back, pulling her closer by the waist. They get lost in the kiss and only pull apart when they hear a cough.

Gemma is now accompanied by the rest of the household watching them in disbelief. Everyone’s eyebrows are raised and even Rori is standing with the group, confused that the humans didn’t know they were doing this.

“Erm…” Harry has no idea what to say, shifting to face his family more fully.

Y/N blushes and shrinks into Harry’s chest, feeling like a teenager caught in the closet with her crush.

“That’s not how friend’s kiss one another,” someone murmurs.

There’s a few “I knew it”s mixed in as well with the rest of the chatter.

“Well…” She finally musters and throws a hand out to her side in a ta-da motion,

“Happy Christmas!”

After the revelation on Christmas Eve, everyone won’t stop teasing Harry and Y/N. The two laugh it off but something always nags at the back of their head. What they were to the other person. The status of this relationship. This friendship that had taken a turn to something else entirely.

It’s another Eve of a holiday when Harry finally musters up the courage to ask her directly. They learned from Christmas day that they couldn’t drink as much as they once did for multiple reasons. So on New Year’s Eve, they both choose to only consume a couple glasses of Champagne.

It starts with “Can we talk about us?” right after midnight. Right after Harry’s just started the New Year with her lips on his. She hears his question and takes it in, her stomach twisting with nerves and possibly excitement as well, and nods.

They slink off to his bedroom, but not for the activity everyone else was certain they were engaging in.

He sits them on the edge of the bed, both her hands clasped in one of his. He’s been quiet all day, she just realizes as he stays silent another moment longer.

“I love you,” he says in his dimly lit room.

Her jaw drops slightly, not quite expecting those three words yet.

“You don’t, don’t have to say anything yet. I just wanted you to know that,” he continues. “And that I want to be with you.”

“Harry,” she starts, breathless at his words.

“No,” he stops her again, “I felt something draw me to you the day you moved in across from me on Sherwood, like I was meant to know you or something. Then I met you and you made me feel so comfortable, all I wanted to do was be with you and that month when you didn’t really talk to me...dove, those weeks were wretched. But when I came back, it was like nothing happened and I was so happy because I couldn’t fathom life going back to the way it was before you. When we kissed, I felt overjoyed, I was so happy that you liked me like that because every time you called me friend...felt like a knife in me. I don’t want to be just your friend,” he pauses to say her name again, “I don’t want to be just your lover, I want to be your boyfriend or whatever they call it now - If you’ll have me.”

He takes a deep breath and blinks away the little well up of water that had grown in his eyes. He had forgotten to blink for a moment he realized.

His stare had been intense as he’d confessed all of his feelings to her, but she didn’t feel intimidated, his gaze had warmed her with its sincerity. It had strengthened his confession.

She sighed, her own eyes not as strong as his, unable to hold his gaze as she herself said her own confession.

His hand rests between them on the bed, steadying himself upright with it. She places her own hand over it and their fingers slightly intertwine. She feels him begin to fiddle with her fingers like usual. Like normal.

“Thank you,” she starts, “Of course I’ll have you. All the time, Harry.” She repeats his words from Christmas Eve back to him.

He starts to interject, the rambling thing, but she tugs at his pointer finger and he takes it as a sign to be quiet.

“I want to be your partner, too. I want it all with you, lover,” she gazes at him now, his free hand reaching up to caress her cheek in that moment. “Want it all,” she repeats in a whisper before he’s kissing her again.

Kissing her and kissing her. Over and over again. Because she was his. And he was hers. And it was a happy beginning. A happy new year and a happy new beginning of a relationship that was bound in friendship, born out of proximity, and nurtured by two kindred souls.

And it all started with her parents making her take her dog. Harry really needed to thank that dog for being the best wing man to ever run around on four legs.

Who knows who that new client of Y/N’s might be...

676 notes · View notes

punkrockmads · 3 years

Text

Rough Day

Abby Anderson x Fem! Reader

Requested by @vultureinajumpsuit

Summary: When your time of the month comes a little early and leaves you extremely emotional, Abby does her best to remind you she's there for you through every struggle... even the most embarrassing ones.♡

"Jesus Christ. Owen, please shut up." You grumble, resting your head on the cafeteria table. You stare down at your shoes, blinking back tears. Owen has been going on for hours about the same abandoned restaurant he found a few days ago and it's starting to frustrate you.

"Alright then." Owen says, rolling his eyes. "Jeez, why are you so pissy today?" You know he's only messing with you, but your emotions are running wild today. You feel a sting of hurt in your chest. Without a word, you stand up and throw away the rest of your barely eaten chili. You ignore Abby's concerned glance as you turn away from the table and walk out of the cafeteria.

Today hasn't been a great one. Your monthly bloodbath had decided to come early, leaving you totally unprepared and upset. You tend to be extremely sensitive and frustrated due to the hormones and cramps that come along with the discomfort of bleeding for a week straight. Every little thing has been getting on your nerves today and everyone has noticed it, especially Abby.

You and Abby have been dating for about a year, giving her plenty of time to figure out why your moods change at the end of each month. She wonders why you haven't told her, especially considering you know when her cycle is, but she doesn't try to force you, thinking it might be uncomfortable for you to talk about.

"Hey, can you maybe tone it down?" Abby asks Owen after you leave.

"What?" Owen puts a hand to his chest, a look of mischief on his face. "I'm just messing around! Not my fault she's acting all moody!" Abby rolls her eyes, getting up to go find you. "Hey! I wasn't trying to be a dick!" Owen calls after her. Abby ignores him, leaving the cafeteria. She looks around the stadium. Where the hell did you go? The most logical place would be your room, right? She heads off in the direction of your room, thinking about ways she could cheer you up. Abby loves your smile. It makes her feel like she's laid eyes on an angel. She hasn't seen your smile all day.

As Abby walks to your room, she spots Nora down the hall. "Hey, Nora!" Abby waves Nora over with a smile.

"Hey. You looking for Y/N?" Nora asks. She knows perfectly well why Abby would be on the floor above her own.

"Yeah, you seen her?" Abby sighs, looking around the hall.

"Yeah, bumped into her while she was headed to her room." Nora replies, zipping up her olive green jacket. "She said she was gonna go see Alice and Bear. Hey, she looked a little tense. Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, she's just having a rough day." Abby explains. "I better go find her." Nora puts her hand on Abby's arm as she walks past.

"You might wanna hurry." Nora warns. "It's gonna rain soon."

"Thanks, Nora." Abby nods, walking past her to your room. Thankfully, you had given her your spare key a few months ago. She can cut through your room and use the back door to get to the dog kennels faster. She unlocks the door, stepping into the room and quickly shutting and locking the door behind her. She can't help but pause and glance around your room.

Posters and photos of places all over the world litter the walls. A huge poster of the Eiffel Tower hangs above your bed. Abby smiles, remembering the many times you've talked about your dream to travel the world. The first night you told her about it, she made a silent promise to herself that she would take you all over the world and make your dream come true, no matter how much effort it took. A few dishes rest in the drying rack on the kitchen counter. Abby remembers the time you came to her room and immediately started washing the dishes she had forgotten to do because "you'll be happier to come home to a clean room after a long day."

"I'm getting sidetracked." Abby sighs to herself. She heads through the back door, locking it behind her. "Alright. Dog kennels." A few people greet Abby as she walks down the steps to the dog kennels. Everyone seems to be heading inside. Abby looks up at the sky, noticing the grey clouds that are only getting darker with every passing minute. Thunderstorm. She spots you in a kennel with Alice and Bear. Bear sits beside you as you play fetch with Alice. Abby greets the woman at the checkout desk and joins you in the kennel. You look up at her from your spot on the ground, offering her a tiny smile before looking back at Alice.

"Hey." Abby says, sitting beside you. She crosses her legs, copying your position.

"Hey." You reply, your knee brushing against hers. Alice drops the ball in your lap. Abby takes it before you can. She throws it to Alice, taking your hand.

"Wanna talk about what's been bugging you?" Abby asks, rubbing your knuckles with your thumb.

"Why do I feel like you already know?" You ask, looking at her with a raised brow.

"Because I do." Abby replies with a playful grin. "Why didn't you tell me you were on your period?"

"It's not important." You shrug, looking down at your lap. "And it's embarrassing." Abby's smile fades a little. Why would you find such a thing embarrassing?

"Hey." Abby places a hand on your cheek, moving you to look back at her. "It's important to me. You can always talk to me. If you ever need me to get you anything or you just need some comfort, don't be embarrassed to tell me. That shit sucks. But, if you tell me, I can do my best to make it a little more bearable. Yeah?"

"Yeah." You say with a small nod. Abby presses a soft kiss to your forehead, backing away to see a growing smile on your face.

"There's that smile." Abby says, her own smile growing wider once again. You roll your eyes, laughing a little. "Hey, what do you say we-" Just as Abby starts to speak, she's cut off by the booming sound of thunder. The violent noise seems to shake the Earth as rain starts to pour from the bleak sky. "Shit!" Abby grumbles. "We're gonna get soaked." Abby stands up, pulling you up with her. She's a little stunned to find you laughing. She gives you a questioning look as you struggle to hold back your laughs. "What?" She frowns, not understanding what you find so funny.

"Babe-" Your own giggle cuts you off. "You have a grass stain on the back of your pants!" Abby tries to look at her pants as you grab at the fabric near her thigh. "That is never gonna wash out!" You laugh, twisting the leg of her pants around a bit to show her. "Why did I immediately think of Shrek?!" You laugh harder at your own chaotic brain.

Abby begins to laugh with you, turning you around to look at the back of your pants. "Yours are stained too!" She chuckles, cheeks hurting from smiling. "We're so dumb!"

"We're a mess!" You say, your laughing dying down. "Okay, we should get inside." You take Abby's hand, guiding her out of the kennel. The two of you say goodbye to the dogs and run inside.

"Man." Abby sighs, locking the back door. She looks at the damp puddle on the floor from the rain you two have tracked in. "We need to dry off."

"Way ahead of you." You say, throwing a towel at her. She huffs a little as it hits her in the chest. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you grab a third towel and use it to wipe up the water on the floor. Thankfully, Abby left a pair of sweatpants and a tank top of hers at your place, meaning both of you could change into dry clothes. Once the two of you are done changing, you sit on the couch beside Abby, both of you wrapped up in a warm, fuzzy blanket. Abby uses her towel to dry her hair, water dripping from the end of her braid down her back in cold streaks. You place a hand on her knee.

"Thank you." You say, squeezing her knee lightly.

"For what?" Abby asks, setting the towel on the back of the couch. You lean into her side, wrapping your arms around her torso.

"Everything." You respond, unable to fully explain your gratitude. Abby smiles lovingly, putting an arm around you. She understands what you mean. She always does.

"You're welcome." She says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Wanna watch a movie?" She sits back against the couch, pulling you back with her so your head is resting on her chest.

"Shouldn't I apologize to Owen for yelling at him first?" You ask, feeling slightly bad for your outburst.

"Nah." Abby chuckles, reaching for the remote. "He can wait. Coraline is more important."

#abby anderson x reader #abbytlou #abby anderson #tlou #tlou2 #owen moore #owen tlou #nora harris #nora tlou #the last of us #the last of us 2

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mylifeisactuallyamess · 3 years

Text

General Hux x Female Reader/Kylo Ren x Female Reader

A/N: I literally kicked this out this morning, and I am posting it now before I change my mind. Bring in the Knights… I clearly woke up this morning and chose violence.

Warnings: alcohol, poison, blood, torture, Hux and Kylo finally work together, minor character death. Not a pretty chapter at all.

Word Count: 3530

Read Chapter 12 here on AO3.

Start from Chapter 1 here.

The ride in Kylo’s Command Shuttle was quiet, just the sound of the pilots communicating, a few troopers lounged in the seats behind you and you could feel their gazes upon the back of your neck. Your brain was fried, only a few hours ago you had woken up fully dressed and alone in Kylo’s bed. He hadn’t spoken much, letting you eat breakfast in comfortable silence while he scrolled through a datapad before announcing his business was concluded here and he was withdrawing the fleet from Canto. The unasked question of whether you were coming hung in the air and you chose to ignore it, getting up and dutifully following him to the ship. You were sad to see the beautiful place fall away, maybe once the war was over you could come back. Visions of returning with your arm linked with Hux’s made you smile a little but when they flickered out of existence and were replaced with your arm in Kylo's, your composure slipped.

The shuttle alighted smoothly in the main hangar, the refiltered air filling your lungs and you already missed the freshness of being planet side. It didn’t surprise you that Mitaka was ready and waiting to bring Kylo up to date on the latest, leaving you with a single trooper to escort you to Hux’s quarters.

The ever unchanging silence curled around you, filtering into the cracks of your damaged soul and expanding. Making an ache start in your chest, one you couldn’t suppress until your soft cries pierced the quiet. You had thought long and hard over Hux’s abrupt change in behaviour, bringing you to the conclusion that he was hating himself for opening up to you. For allowing so much of himself to be exposed in one go, so now he was clamming up and pushing you away. It didn’t hurt any less but you supposed it would be like this, one step forward and two steps back. You expelled a long breath thinking it was a dance you were committed to, no matter the outcome.

You had a quick shower, putting on a nightgown and robe now you were once again governed by the day cycle of the ship. You didn’t expect to see Hux tonight so you opened a bottle from the restocked cooler, pouring the clear liquid over a couple of rocks of ice before settling on the couch and picking up the datapad to read the manuscript you were invested in but you couldn’t focus. The words blurred into one on the screen and the alcohol made everything hazy. Your heart jolted when the door opened and you heaved yourself off the couch in surprise, clutching the arm to hold you up as the room spun slightly.

“Armitage,” you mumbled in surprise. “I didn’t…I wasn’t expecting to see you….today—night?” You frowned at your own nonsense. This wasn’t how you wanted him to see you, not now, not when he possibly needed you.

“In all honesty I wasn’t sure you’d be here.” He replied. He carefully put his hat on the table, slowly followed by his gloves and then his coat which he hung on the back of the chair. You watched him approach the cooler, his slender fingers wrapping around the bottle and looking at the label.

“Did you finish work? Are you staying?” Your tongue felt thick, your body was at a fever pitch and you stumbled when you tried to head in his direction.

“Armitage…” you lifted your hand trying to focus on it but your vision blurred. “I can’t…see.”

“What?” His response was whip sharp and you winced against the sudden pounding on your head. You cried out as your legs gave way, collapsing to the floor in a heap. Your vision swam, your breaths were laboured and a tingling sensation was racing over your body. In the dark corner of your mind you realise this wasn’t just too much to drink. You heard him call your name but you were sinking, not able to hold onto him, everything was melting before you. Disappearing into a cloud of black smoke and you couldn’t find your way out.

Hux watched Ren pace up and down the small area outside your private room. Actually it was a medical room set aside for the Supreme Leader, he’d had you directed there when he saw the urgent message for a medic to Hux’s quarters. Every footfall that sounded from the large man set Hux’s teeth on edge but he bit back a rebuke. The force user hadn’t lashed out yet and Hux wasn’t going to give him an excuse. Hux also wondered why he was here, the fleet was chasing down a lead on a new possible Resistance base so surely his attention would be better elsewhere than on Hux’s wife. Both men looked up as the door opened and a Dr came out, his face was grave and Hux felt the blood freeze in his veins.

“Supreme Leader, General. She has been poisoned.” Hux had already deduced that fact and he felt a flash of annoyance that this was being repeated back to him.

“What else?” He demanded abruptly.

“I’ve had to put her in a medically induced coma so her body can recover, it seems there is some damage to her internal organs and…” he swallowed nervously as the two most dangerous men stood glaring at him. “It seems this is one poison we haven’t encountered before.”

“Just put her in a bacta tank,” snipped Hux, not understanding why they were wasting time telling him this.

“They can’t,” rumbled Kylo. Hux frowned, hating the extra insight he had.

“Why not?” He could feel his temper slipping, his teeth clenching together as he glared at the doctor wanting him to answer and not Ren.

“The poison seems to have some bacta resistant qualities….” The floor rolled under Hux and he swayed slightly, if they couldn’t find an antidote the poison would keep eating away at you until your body gave up. “I seem to have slowed the effects, by keeping her body cold and slowing the blood flow but we need an antidote within the week, she won’t be able to stay in this state for long without accruing serious deficits.” Hux wanted to double over, he wanted to accept the pain that erupted from his centre and scream at the floor, but he didn’t. He wanted to barge past the doctor and hold you in his arms, he wanted to rip through his ship and shoot his own troops in the face if they so much as looked at him wrong. It wasn’t until Kylo removed his hand from Hux’s elbow that he realised the Supreme Leader had been holding him upright.

Hux’s feet finally became unstuck from the floor and he moved into the room, his heart in his mouth as he looked at you on the bed. The chill blankets glowed a soft blue colour, a tube was down your throat helping you breathe. Sensors were placed across your forehead and he felt the rage bubble up inside him, who would poison you? Why would someone do this? He also wanted to yell at you for drinking out of a bottle that clearly wasn’t First Order approved, which meant someone planted it and they were still in the ship.

“I’ve already got the Knights tearing through the ship.” Hux resisted rolling his eyes and chose to frown instead.

“Is that wise Ren?”

“Do you want them found?” He snarled, stepping up to the other side of your bed. Hux studied the feral look in his eye, the tenseness of his posture and the hatred that flared in his expression, until his gaze slid to you. His hand rose as though to touch you but thought better of it, curling his leather covered hand into a fist. His expression softened for a moment before looking back up at Hux. “I will let you know if we find anything.”

“Shouldn’t I be there?” Hux asked, not happy to be pushed out of such an investigation of his own personnel.

“Maybe you should stay here and be with your wife,” mumurmed Kylo.

“She’s in a coma. She doesn’t even know what day of the week it is, let alone if I’m here or not.” He couldn’t sit here staring at you, seeing how helpless and weak you were. He wouldn’t be able to sit and watch you waste away before him without doing something to try and stop this.

“Fine.” Hux moved to follow the Supreme Leader out of the room, his fingers flexing and a little ripple of anticipation ran down his spine. It had been a while since he got his hands dirty.

He couldn’t explain it, the way this trooper’s screams fed something twisted inside him. He leaned heavily against the wall of the interrogation room, sweet collected on his upper lip and he swept his damp hair off his brow in a fluid motion. Ren had shed his tunic, his corded muscles bulged, his pale skin flushed as he stretched an arm towards the man kneeling on the floor. Fresh screams erupted from the bound trooper and Hux momentarily closed his eyes as if basking in the sound.

A part of him recoiled at the unwavering way Ren ploughed through people's minds, he showed no mercy and Hux felt a stab of jealousy that Ren himself was clearly going to all this trouble for you. Hux had been told you had breakfast on a private balcony with the Supreme Leader, leaving in a hurry and then you were seen heading to his private room on Canto Bight. Hux wasn’t an idiot, but he had hoped you wouldn’t have stabbed him in the back so early on.

“Ren, stop.” Hux managed to say as the trooper’s heart rate spiked off the charts and the man fell with a clatter to the floor. “Anything?” Hux winced, his voice sounded loud against his tender ears. Kylo rolled his shoulders, sweeping his dripping hair away from his face before shaking his head once. It had been two days, two full days and night of torture, screams and questions all coming up with nothing. Hux gripped the datapad in his hands, his arms trembling as he fought the urge to throw it against the wall, screaming his hatred and frustration out. He’s always looked down his nose at Ren’s temper tantrums but now it was all he wanted to do, to break something or someone, to exercise his absolute fury out until he felt exhausted. He hadn’t slept for two days, he was already at his stimulant limit but he still considered another shot.

“You should rest.”

“No, I'm fine.”

“It wasn’t a request, General. You’re no good to her dead.” Hux contemplated ignoring the order altogether but he knew he needed a rest. He felt stretched, his breaking point was within reach and what good would he be if he was in a bed in the medbay as well? He wordlessly handed over the datapad as medics came to retrieve the trooper.

“You’ll keep going?” He asked brusquely.

“I will see you in 10 hours,” stated Kylo but Hux paused, his coat resting on his forearm.

“Five,” he countered.

“Eight,” Ren shot back.

“Six.”

“Done.” Hux nodded before leaving the room. He had six hours to pass out and then he was going to find out who did this to you.

Kylo waited until Hux had gone before slipping from the room and heading to his own quarters. Ap’lek stood outside the door in full armour, his executioner’s ax grasped in his hand as he stood guard. They didn’t exchange words, they didn’t need to. The door opened and he came face to face with Vicrul, his scythe blade resting on his shoulder ready to swing at a moment's notice. He stepped to the side to let Kylo in, revealing the scene in his quarters. There was a dark haired man kneeling on the floor surrounded by the rest of the Knights, Cardo had his arm cannon pressed into the back of his neck, Ushar had the kinetic charged end of his club in position ready to stun the man if necessary and Trudgen sat before the prisoner running a whetstone along the blade of his vibrocleaver. The sound rang out loud and clear in the silent quarters as he swept the stone with long strikes against the massive blade. Kuruk appeared from the bedroom, performing his checks and making sure the quarters were secure.

Kylo made his way to crouch before the shaking man, slowly running his eyes over the First Order uniform and seeing it was ill fitting.

Has he said anything? Kylo looked up at Trudgeon, the only Knight without his mask on.

No. Came the swift reply followed by another singing note from the blade.

“You won’t get anything out of me.” Kylo turned his attention back to the prisoner.

“We just did,” he stated softly. The prisoner looked up and Kylo could see the man had already surrendered to the idea that he was going to die here.

“The Resistance is not dead. Our spark shines bright in the Galaxy.” Kylo looked at him, just staring as he tried to decide how he was going to play this.

“Vicrul.” The Knight stepped forward and Trudgeon moved out of the way, tossing his chair away with a loud noise. Kylo rose and Vicrul took his place before the prisoner, removing his pastillion ore helmet and placing it carefully on the floor before locking gazes with the prisoner.

Sweat began to bead on the man’s brow, his face quivering the longer Vicrul looked into his eyes. Kylo could feel it, the ripples in the force that his Knight created, the darkness manifested and clung the Resistance fighter, gathering around his head. The other Knights all watched, their own vibrations reacting to their brothers and only the prisoners laboured breathing sounded in the room. It didn’t take long before a scream ripped the air and he began to thrash in the Knights grip, lost in nightmarish visions that only he could see. Kylo let Vicrul have his fun, showing the prisoner visions that would make a Wookiee cower, his screams increasing in pitch. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he began to convulse in the firm grips of Cardo and Ushar.

“Enough,” said Kylo softly. Vicrul broke eye contact and picked up his helmet, the darkness retreated and the prisoner blinked rapidly as though the light was too much for him, his entire body heaved and he looked wildly around.

“What are you going to do to me?” He cried, his voice full of panic.

“It depends what you tell us,” Kylo gestured to the armoured men around him. “My Knights are bored so I suggest you cooperate.”

“Wait wait! Can’t you just search my mind? Take the information for yourself?” Kylo turned away as the Knights shuffled forward, closing ranks around the prisoner.

“Where is the fun in that Major Wexley?” The man was screaming before Kylo had even made it past his door, Kuruk followed and silently traded places with an eager Ap’lek. “Let me know if he says anything. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Kuruk nodded and silently watched his master walk away. They knew where he was going.

Kylo sat at your bedside, his large hand covered yours and echoes of what was happening in his quarters shattered the quiet of his mind. He could feel the force pulsing with the darkside, spreading its touch through the ship. It manifested in different ways, someone pulling a risky move in the training ground and hitting their opponent harder than necessary, an officer shouting at his staff for a simple misdemeanour that should have been dismissed. A fight breaking out in the cantina between two troopers who didn’t like each other, a moment of blind frustration from a medic who threw what he was holding, letting it shatter against the wall.

The Knights had found Wexley trying to slip into a TIE and escape, Kylo hadn’t told Hux. The General was on a cliff edge as it was, Kylo didn’t need him on a murdering spree before all information was dragged from the Resistance pilot, so Kylo let his Knights have a reward. Their energy was chaotic when unused, it needed a release every now and again.

He moved his hand along your cold arm, hating how lifeless you looked, you were still alive. He could feel your light but the warmth was weak and fading. Kylo hoped this pilot had some answers because he didn’t know what he’d do if they didn’t find the antidote in time. He cast a quick eye over the machines noting how your numbers remained steady even though you ebbed ever so slowly away.

He still won’t talk. Kylo sighed, feeling the disappointment in Vicrul’s thoughts.

I’m on my way. He stood, bending over you and peering at your still face for a moment before sweeping abruptly from the room.

The first thing he could feel was the pilot's pain, it radiated out in all directions and Kylo clenched his fists against it. The next thing he noticed was the smell, blood, sharp and tangy against his nose. The floor was slick with the red stains, blood spatter littered the walls in spectacular patterns and Kylo came to a stop looking down at the pitiful man as he bled out onto the floor, his skin was pale, drained of colour because it now painted Kylo’s quarters. He crouched down beside Wexley who was laying on his side, the First Order uniform ripped and tattered, ruined beyond repair much like Wexley himself.

“Are you going to talk?” Asked Kylo softly.

“No.” He admired the man's tenacity, but his time was up. The screams that spewed from him had a hoarse quality, like his throat was too tired, his lungs had no air but Kylo didn’t care as he raced through the man's memories. He had planted the bottle, but it wasn’t meant for you, it was meant for General Hux. The antidote was a plant out in the Teth system. One of the few wild systems left in the Galaxy and travelling there and back again in the time frame left would be a risk, but it was one Kylo was ready to take. He withdrew from the dying Major, his memories growing dark as his body gave up.

“Ready the Night Buzzard,” he demanded. Kylo stood, hearing the last breath from Wexley before moving, his Knights following obediently behind as he began to make his way to the hangar.

Hux woke to the sound of his alarm, swiping it off the screen of the datapad feeling unusually refreshed. He had slept in his uniform so he could get up and find Ren straight away. He walked through the corridors of the Finalizer pleased to see his staff avoiding his gaze as he marched along, this investigation was reminding everyone who was actually in charge here and bringing out Hux’s ruthless side for everyone to see served as another reminder that he wasn’t to be messed with.

He stepped into the interrogation room, taking in the emptiness before turning smartly and heading to the bridge. His lips bruised together in irritation, if Ren had found something and left Hux out he was going to explode. As soon as he entered the bridge Mitaka was at his side.

“Sir, the Supreme Leader gave strict instructions not to wake you.”

“What’s happened?” Snapped Hux.

“The Supreme Leader and the Knights have left for the Teth system.” Mitaka told him.

“Left? What do you mean left?”

“They have gone to retrieve the plant needed for the antidote for….for…..” For you. Hux didn’t have time to pander to his Lieutenant and his sad emotions right now. He tutted, since when did you become such a beloved member to certain people who weren’t him? “He also said to tell you there is a mess in his quarters, but he wanted you to see it before it was cleared up.” Hux left without a word, what an earth could Ren want him to see?

Whatever Hux had imagined on the way to the Supreme Leaders quarters did not prepare him for the sight that met his eyes. Did he really need to see this? Hux was no stranger to torture and death, blood didn’t bother him, violence was his way of life but seeing this gruesome scene did indeed turn his stomach slightly. He also recognised the Knights' handy work.

“Do we know who this is?” He asked a Major who looked rather grey coloured.

“Apparently this is…was Temmin Wexley, Resistance pilot and the person who planted the bottle in your quarters, sir.”

“Clear up this disgusting mess. It has lingered on my ship long enough.” He snapped, displeasure and disgust making his expression contort. He left, stepping the familiar path to the medbay realising now all he had to do was wait. And he hated waiting.

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fific7 · 4 years

Text

Velvet

Billy Russo x Reader

@omgrachwrites 500 Follower Celebration

Summary: This follows on from That Swept-Back Hair, approx 8 months later. Things have changed.

Warnings: TBI, memory loss, mentions of sex, angst/fluff mix.

A/N: Loosely based on S2 Billy Russo, but this is non-canon and exists solely within my imaginary Punisher AU. In fact, who is The Punisher? It’s really just The Frankie & Billy Show!

(The little double blink he does as he’s drinking gets me right in the 🖤)

(My GIF)

Your hand glided across the top and then back over Billy’s shorn velvety head, feeling the soft prickliness of the short hairs against your palm. They’d shaved his head when he’d arrived at the hospital prior to surgery.

You still weren’t totally comfortable with the new look, however you knew it’d been unavoidable, and that was that.

It had started growing back a little, and you didn’t want to think about why they were still keeping it short.

His eyelashes fluttered but his eyes remained closed; you sighed and settled yourself back against the uncomfortable seat, ready for another hour’s silent visit.

The sunlight stealing through the venetian blinds threw highlights and shadows onto Billy’s face, and you felt a sudden need to touch his skin. Your fingers ran over his face, feeling each ridge of his scars.

How was Billy going to react when he saw them, you wondered. Let’s be honest, he was a vain man and his good looks had made up a large part of his persona. You didn’t think he was going to take it very well.

It takes a lot of courage for people with disabilities, burns and scars to brave the stares and whispers of others, when all they really want to do is to hide away. The world can be a cruel place, and they have to dig down deep within themselves to find the strength to deal with it.

As you sat there with Billy’s unresponsive hand clasped in yours, your mind drifted back to an awful day, two months ago.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Two short months. How quickly everything can change in a heartbeat.

You and Billy had made a go of things after the Firefighter Affair, as Karen called it. During the six months following it, you’d found yourself in an actual, real-life relationship with Billy, much to your surprise - and intense pleasure.

He’d still spend long hours at Anvil, he had to keep building up the business and you understood that. What you weren’t so happy about was that he was still very much ’hands on’ with the assignments, as if he didn’t want to let go of the reins to a large extent. Inside, there would always be a piece of Lt. Russo, right alongside CEO Russo.

On the other hand, he had to get used to you jetting round the globe on short trips for your new job, which you were loving.

To begin with, there were sulks and jealous outbursts mainly about ’all those foreign guys’ but he chilled a little after you reassured him you had no interest in hooking up with any of them. “Better not, sweetheart,” he’d growled, dark eyes staring you down.

Both of you had made sure you spent time together in between your busy schedules; breakfasts, lunches, dinners, movies, walks and picnics in the park. Taking turns at staying over at each other’s places.

Yes, you’d breached the panther’s den, a huge victory in your mind as none of his other women had ever set foot in it. Hell, some of your clothes and toiletries had made their way into his wardrobe and bathroom, and vice versa.

And, of course, the incredible sex.

Billy was as energetic, sensual and inventive between the sheets as ever. And sometimes he was just pure caveman. You’d be showering in the morning, Billy would strut naked into the bathroom, and you’d hear, “Showering without me, sweetheart?” Hands grabbing you, arms going round you, and you’d be laying on the bath towels on the floor in an instant.

Billy, hovering above you, his body pressing down on yours, eyes gazing at you, “I think you need a little disciplining, angel,” his mouth and hands all over you. You’d thread your fingers through his hair, giving a not-so-gentle tug, there’d be an answering grunt, Billy revving up, ready to give you the best time you’d have that day.

Things were going really well, much better than you’d expected. At first, doubts had still clouded your mind about Billy’s ability to stay faithful, but... there was no evidence to the contrary, he was behaving himself and nothing but very attentive to you. You were now on his arm at every event he attended.

Then, an unexpected phone call one morning as you were getting ready for work. A hospital administrator, who said that you were receiving the call because your name and number were on Billy Russo’s emergency contact list.

Everything stopped, frozen in the moment, as you automatically assumed the worst.

Your brain finally kicked in and began to filter some of what she was saying back to you. Eventually you gathered that Billy had been caught up in an explosion and had been badly injured. Like, really badly injured. She wouldn’t give you any other details over the phone, but agreed when you asked if you could visit him. She did warn you, however, that he wasn’t conscious.

You were scrambling round your apartment, looking for jacket, shoes, bag, when your phone rang again. Karen. You picked up, and heard her trembling voice saying your name and spilling that Frank had been injured in an explosion. Again, you stopped in your tracks.

It dawned on you now why you got the phone call from the hospital, as you were sure Frank would be at the top of Billy’s contact list.

You hadn’t even thought about Frank, that he could’ve been injured too. You felt a stab of guilt.

Agreeing to meet at the hospital, you hung up, dropped a quick explanatory text to your boss, and rushed out to begin your trek over there.

You met up outside the main entrance and stepped into the chaos of the ER. Eventually you were led to a small side room and informed that the attending doctor would come and find you as soon as they could.

Both of you sat and speculated on the severity of their injuries, and what the ‘incident’ could have been. The guys didn’t discuss the nitty-gritty of their work with you, due mainly to the sensitive nature of the assignments.

Karen called into work, firstly to explain her absence and secondly, to ask if there was anything being reported as a major incident, but there was nothing.

A couple of days later, she’d managed to discover that Anvil had got a contract to bodyguard a government official from a Middle Eastern country, and dissidents from there had ambushed him on his way from the airport into the city, slamming their SUV into an escort car and causing its gas tank to explode a few minutes later. That’s what Frank and Billy managed to get caught up in.

The doctor came and collected Karen, saying that Frank was conscious but dazed, and she’d give her more details about his injuries as they walked to his room.

Once you were left alone, the wait began to feel endless. Your mind was circling like a washing machine stuck on the spin cycle; Frank was conscious, Billy wasn’t, Frank was conscious, Billy... why wasn’t Billy conscious?

Eventually, the doctor returned for you, but sat down on one of the plastic hospital chairs rather than leading you to his room. She had that sympathetic but business-like look on her face, the one medical people seemed to adopt when they had bad news to impart.

You found yourself thinking that they had to maintain a bit of distance, otherwise they probably wouldn’t be able to do their job.

She started speaking, telling you that Billy had received his injuries in an explosion, and had sustained lacerations from shrapnel, a dislocated shoulder and a broken foot. But the most serious one had been a substantial concussion which had caused a small bleed on the brain, and this had required immediate surgery.

Swelling of the brain had also caused complications, and Billy had been placed into a medically-induced coma.

She’d stood up then and you’d followed her along several corridors, repeating ‘shrapnel’ over and over in your mind. The doctor had stopped outside a door with a small rectangular window inset above the handle, turning to face you.

“He’s suffered quite a lot of facial scarring, and is quite heavily bandaged... I just wanted to warn you.”

You felt tears stinging your eyes.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Karen had texted you about 30 minutes later, asking if you wanted to stay or go.

To be quite honest, you’d be glad to leave the oppressive little room; the beeping of the machines and rhythmic clicking of the ventilator had been making you feel tense, and a headache was forming behind your eyes.

And Billy’s bandaged head and face - you felt guilty for thinking this - looked like something out of a horror movie.

The two of you met outside the main entrance and headed to a coffee shop you could see on the opposite corner. You had no idea if it had decent coffee but it surely couldn’t be any worse than the dishwater the hospital passed off as a drinkable beverage. Karen caught you up on Frank’s condition as you walked over there.

He had a couple of dislocated joints, two broken fingers, cuts and bruises. Where he’d lucked out - so to speak - was that he’d avoided getting concussed.

Once you’d got your distinctly average coffee, you relayed the details of Billy’s injuries to Karen, and she’d been shocked that he was in such a serious condition.

There was going to be a long old journey ahead to get Billy back on his feet.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

They brought Billy out of the induced coma just short of three weeks later. The brain swelling had definitely been a worry, but they weren’t keen on keeping him under much longer. However, more concerning was the fact that he didn’t wake up of his own accord once the medically induced coma was reversed.

The mummy-like bandages had been removed at the same time, revealing angry-looking red scars. The nurses had been applying oils and balm to them several times a day, and this had helped to calm them quite a lot. But you knew they were still going to be a big shock to Billy.

Frank, out of hospital by then and keeping things ticking over at Anvil, didn’t say much - as was his way - but you knew that both he and Karen were as worried as you were about this unsettling turn of events.

You tried to maintain a positive front, but on occasion found yourself literally sobbing on Karen’s shoulder when it got too much to handle.

You fell into a strange kind of half-life; working as usual then heading out to the hospital each evening to sit and talk to Billy, holding his hand. You ate at odd hours, slept erratically, disturbed by bad dreams, usually about Billy never regaining consciousness.

And so it went; work, hospital, eat, sleep, repeat. Day after soul-destroying day.

Today, at lunch-time you were on your way out to grab something to eat when your phone rang, an unknown number. Praying it wasn’t some annoying cold-caller, you picked up to find yourself speaking to a doctor from the hospital. You stopped walking; you usually didn’t hear from them, they usually had nothing new to tell you.

Three minutes later, you were running back up to your office, to let your boss know that Billy was awake and you had to get to the hospital. “Go, go, Y/N,” he said, “and keep me posted!”

In the back of an Uber, you texted Frank and Karen to give them the good news, saying you’d be in touch later once you’d been able to see him.

You really hoped the traffic wouldn’t be too bad, you were majorly anxious to get to Billy. In case he lost consciousness again before you saw him.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your feet took you through the entrance hall, into the lifts and up to Billy’s floor without any conscious input from you, as you’d taken the same route so many times. You waited impatiently at the nurses’ station, your head whipping round as you heard your name.

The doctor took you into the small side room again; so, a chat before you got to see Billy. The doctor had that same look on her face.

“Billy’s awake, but he’s a little disorientated. Y/N... he’s experiencing some amnesia. From what we can gather, he thinks he’s still a serving Marine in Afghanistan.”

Your heart sank; you supposed it had been naive to think he’d wake up and things would magically be back to how they used to be.

“But that’s normal, right? After a head trauma.”

She nodded, “Yes. And all or some memory can be recovered. But as you probably know, there are no hard and fast rules about if or when that will happen. There are no guarantees when it comes to amnesia.”

You gulped, nodding to show you understood.

The doctor reached into her top pocket, bringing out a card and handing it to you. “We have a psychotherapist affiliated to the hospital, a Dr Dumont. In fact, I think she was planning to assess Billy in the next day or so. She’s got several vets on her books, I’m sure she’d be happy to take him on.”

You handed the card back to her. “Thanks, but we’ve already got counselling set up for Billy. An ex-Marine buddy of his, who supports and counsels vets. He’ll be a lot more comfortable with Curtis. Please thank her but let her know we don’t require her help.” The doctor looked a little sceptical but nodded and tucked the card away.

She stood up, waiting for you to do so and then walked with you along the familiar corridors to Billy’s room. “Has he mentioned anyone’s names when you’ve talked to him? Me, Frank, Karen?” A shake of her head, “No, sorry. As I said, he’s quite disorientated.”

You nodded, asking, “Has he seen his scars yet?” Again, she shook her head, “We thought that might be a bit too much for him on his first day awake. If he’s run his hand over his face, he’ll have felt them of course, but there are no mirrors in the room or bathroom.” You nodded, “Thanks, Doctor. I think that’s for the best. I won’t mention it unless he asks me directly.”

She left you outside the door, and taking a deep breath, you opened it and went in.

The figure in the bed had wrapped his sheets round him, right up to his neck. He was curled up on his side, facing away from the door, a defensive position it seemed. You approached the bed, feeling that he knew you were there, but there was no movement.

“Billy?” you said quietly, “it’s me, Y/N.” No response.

Then his head turned towards you, and you had your first sight of his dark eyes in a long time, gazing at you over his shoulder. But you saw instantly there was no recognition in them, and you had to look down to hide your disappointment.

He began to sit up, struggling against the sheet cocoon he’d created, and you leant forward, reshuffling his pillows. He sank back into them, still staring at you. You drank in the sight of him, awake; you’d really begun to think that he’d never regain consciousness.

“We know each other, then,” he suddenly said, a statement, not a question. Voice low and raspy, no doubt due to the recently-removed ventilator.

“We do, Billy,” you replied, “we’ve been seeing each other. An item, as they say.”

He nodded slowly, “For how long?” You pulled up a chair alongside the bed, “Six months.”

He gave a low chuckle, and now his eyes flickered up and down your body as you sat down next to him, before returning to meet your eyes. His had a slight glint in them.

“So we’ve slept together. We have good times?”

You smiled, nodding, “Very good times, Billy.”

He gave you the Billy smirk, and you knew that your Billy was definitely still in there somewhere.

His demeanour suddenly changed, he looked worried. His eyes dropped down onto his hands.

“I don’t know who you are.”

The flat statement took your breath away. You knew he didn’t recognise you, but hearing it said straight out like that hit you like a slap in the face.

He stared at you again, while you tried to arrange your face into a neutral expression. “Sorry,” he mumbled, one hand gesturing in the air at nothing.

Taking a deep breath, you lifted his hand and entwined your fingers with his, “It’s OK, it’s OK,” you said, although truthfully it wasn’t.

It hurt your heart that he didn’t recognise you, but the amnesia was to blame, and you couldn’t lay a guilt trip on him about it.

He was still gazing at you, and you continued, “I’m here, Billy and I... we.... are all here for you.” Squeezing his hand, “Me, Frank, Curtis, Karen, we’ll get you through this, I promise.”

Tears welled in his eyes, and his fingers gripped yours.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Once back in the privacy of your apartment, you filled in the others on a group call. Frank rumbled down the phone, “So he thinks he’s still serving?” “Apparently so. That’s what he told the doctor. I didn’t want to push it on my first visit. I’m heading back later and I’ll try to talk to him a bit more.” Karen asked if he knew about the scarring yet, and you said no, he’d admitted he was in quite a bit of pain, but all over, not just his face.

Curtis butted in at that point, saying that some of his guys had mentioned this Dr Dumont you’d told them about. “Yeah, she’s got some... weird ideas, they said. Masks and shit.” What? You asked him to elaborate and he’d told you the little he knew. “Well, I’m glad I kicked that idea into touch,” you replied, “none of that stuff is gonna help Billy get better, I’m sure of that.”

When you got back to the hospital, Billy was sitting up in bed, and spent the first five minutes you were in the room just staring intently at you. You’d gently questioned him as to how he was feeling, was he eating, drinking, sleeping, but got no response.

Then he’d shaken his head, as if trying to clear it, and asked, “Am I still in Afghanistan?”

You and he then spent a little time talking about what he remembered, probing to see how far back his memories went. He did think he was still in the Marines, thought he was on a tour, but couldn’t remember who he was serving with, could see some faces but didn’t recall names. You were keen to get Frank and Curtis in to see him, maybe it would help if he was face to face with them.

You could see he was getting tired, so you pushed your chair back, about to stand up, when his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. It was such a Billy thing to do, you heard yourself gasp.

He looked at you, then down at his hand on your wrist, “Shouldn’t I have done that?” You smiled, “It’s just such a normal thing for you to do it took me by surprise, Billy.”

“I’m always grabbin’ your wrist?” You laughed out loud, “Amongst other things!”

He laughed too, and you were so happy to hear that sound.

“We need to be talking about all-a that.” He tugged on your wrist, “And I reckon I need a kiss.”

You shook your head, smiling, “Maybe soon, Billy, right now you need to concentrate on getting better.”

“But I think it’d help!” giving you a sly side-eye, “jog my memory.”

You leant in, “How can you think about kissing when you’ve been through a major trauma?!” but you were craving the closeness with him, after weeks without it.

His hand suddenly went from your wrist to the nape of your neck, pulling you half on top of him, and you were thinking that some things didn’t change when his lips met yours.

You’d been imagining a fairly quick, chaste ‘getting to know you again’ kiss, so you were surprised when you felt his tongue sneaking past your lips, his other hand moving smoothly onto the swell of your breast, massaging firmly, and you could feel his arousal under you.

You pushed back, looking at him with a smile.

“Marine! Stand down.”

It was a stupid cheesy thing you’d always said to him, even before you were properly dating.

He stared at you, his thumb stroking your bottom lip, “That.. what you just said. It feels familiar.”

You nodded, “That’s good, Billy... I’m happy about that, I say it to you all the time. It’s our little joke.”

He lay back on his pillows, mood changing suddenly, staring at you. “Why d’you shove me away? I was kissin’ you, had my hands on you, wasn’t that familiar to you, Y/N?”

You stroked his arm. “Billy, I didn’t shove you away. I just need you to remember that you’ve suffered a major trauma, you need to be calm, concentrate on getting better...” He was looking tired, head nestling back into his pillows.

You stood up, picking up your bag, “I’m gonna head home now, let you get your rest. I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?” You leant forward and kissed his temple, “Sleep well.”

His eyes were already closed as you pulled back from the kiss.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The four of you met up at the hospital mid-morning the next day. Karen and Curtis sat down on chairs in the corridor, while you and Frank headed into Billy’s room.

You stopped in your tracks in the doorway, Frank bumping into you. There was a small, dark-haired woman sitting on a chair, side on to the door, with a clipboard on her knees.

But what had you both frozen to the spot was the sight of Billy, dressed in a tracksuit, sitting on a chair opposite her. He had a pure white mask on; two eye holes, a fully-formed nose, small slit for the mouth. It was damn scary-looking.

You took a few steps into the room, “Who are you?” you challenged the woman, although you had a good idea already. “And why is my boyfriend wearing that weird mask?”

She stared at you, “Boyfriend? Oh.. I didn’t realise...”

You decided to drop the innocent act. “Are you Dr Dumont? Because if you are, you can take your clipboard and your mask and get out of here. I asked the doctor yesterday to tell you that we already have counselling in place for Billy.”

“Well, yes she did, but about that... to be honest that’s why I decided to..” she looked over at Billy, “assess him in any case. I don’t feel that the counselling you mention would be right for...”

“Doctor!” you hissed, and she stopped talking. “You are treading a very thin line here. I haven’t asked or authorised you to see Billy, so I will ask you again, please take your theatre props and go.”

You’d walked over to Billy as you’d been talking, and stripped the mask off him, holding it out to her. Billy’s wide dark eyes were gazing up at you.

She stood up and snatched the mask from you, placing it on top of her clipboard. With a very condescending smile, she said, “I’m telling you, you’re making a big mistake.”

“Get out! Now,” you said, glaring at her.

The door banged shut behind her, and you said as Frank walked over to you, “Unbelievable! Billy’s had a lucky escape from that quack, I reckon.”

Frank nodded, placing his beefy paw on Billy’s shoulder. Billy’s eyes were searching his face.

“Bill,” Frank growled, “‘s me, Frankie. I’m here for ya.” He tightened his grip on the shoulder under his hand. “I got your back, bud.”

You could both tell that he didn’t yet recognise Frank. But he did recognise the comfort the words gave him.

“Frankie,” he murmured.

Then he looked to you. “Y/N?...right?” You nodded, fighting to keep your expression blank. Still not sure of you, even your name. You caught Frank sending you a sympathetic glance.

You took his hand, rubbing your thumb over his skin. Billy had a puzzled look on his face as he looked up at you.

“Why’d she put that mask on me, Y/N? My face hurts. Don’t I look good?”

Your mouth drew into a line, and you quickly glanced at Frank.

“Billy, you look as good as you always did.”

“Did I look good?”

“Yes, you looked so handsome,” you replied, “a beautiful man.”

That small smile, dark eyes sparkling at you.

“And do I still look good?”

You ran your hand down the back of his velvety head, feeling him shiver as your fingers trailed onto his neck, pleased with his response to your touch.

“Yes, you do, Billy,” you answered honestly, because as far as you were concerned, he did.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Additional A/N: DUMONT 🥊 POW! 🥊 how it would’ve gone down if I’d written S2 😉 And thank you Tumblr for totally eating the draft of this last night, really enjoyed re-typing it.

#ben barnes #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo #billy russo x reader #velvet

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shefanispeculator · 3 years

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I'm slightly disappointed to log onto Zoom and find Gwen Stefani in Los Angeles. I wanted to see the ranch. Stefani spent most of the pandemic in Oklahoma with her fiancé and fellow The Voice coach Blake Shelton, with whom she has recently collaborated on a string of country radio hits, alongside a kitsch Christmas song. For a ska-pop superstar, it's a pivot, but Stefani and Shelton are cute together — picture-perfect in their opposite attraction.

Country Gwen exists, her urban counterpart assures me, but on this particular MacBook she's nowhere to be seen. I'm not sure what crude regional stereotypes I was expecting (Stefani spitting sunflower seeds? Shelton line dancing in the background?) but I get Californian sunshine instead, illuminating a version of Stefani more familiar from my teenage years, when Love. Angel. Music. Baby and its follow-up The Sweet Escape spawned millions of fans, haters and imitators. She's platinum blonde, red lipsticked and wearing a black-and-white outfit that matches the decor. The checkerboard pattern can be traced back to an even earlier era, when Stefani and her No Doubt bandmates were '80s teenagers obsessed with two-tone acts like Madness and The Specials.

Cowboy boots wouldn't fit this picture, and nor would Stefani's glitzy showgirl outfits from The Voice, where she just wrapped another season as a celebrity coach. As she prepares to release her fourth solo record, and enters the fifth decade of an extraordinarily successful music career, Gwen Stefani is re-re-branding as... Gwen Stefani.

Top: Local Boogeyman, Pants: GCDS, Shoes: Valentino, Earrings, bracelets and rings: Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience), Necklaces: Gwen's own, Engagement ring: Gwen's own

"But what is that?" Stefani asks with seriousness, as we consider the possibility of some essential, inherent Gwen. "Everyone's interpretation of what I am and how I sing, I mean, that's what this era is about for me."

Said era kicked off late last year, with the music video for "Let Me Reintroduce Myself." It saw Stefani playfully revisit the wardrobes of album cycles past, from the ab-bearing tomboy tank tops of "Hollaback Girl" to the club kid blue hair mascara of '90s No Doubt. Her Harajuku Girls also make a return. The entire visual is a huge flex, not only for the sheer volume of iconic career moments recreated in dutiful detail, but the fact Stefani can still fit into the clothes originally worn during all of them. She looks eerily the same, frighteningly good, ageing in reverse at the same pace as her frequent collaborator Pharrell.

"It's really a blessing to be able to have such a long career, where there really is nothing to prove anymore."

Pop stars are expected to be young forever, in looks but also in their capacity to innovate new trends. Which makes the nostalgic music video a curious choice. Doesn't Stefani know by now that the cardinal rule of pop is to avoid repeating yourself? That even the hottest artists in the world are basically required by law to create completely new eras from scratch every six months in order to appease fans and maintain maximum TikTok-ready relevance?

Of course she does, but that doesn't mean she has to participate. Stefani isn't trying to chase down her contemporaries, despite clearly possessing the physical fitness required. "It's really a blessing to be able to have such a long career, where there really is nothing to prove anymore," she says. "It's a different energy. You know, it's really just about doing it to do it, as opposed to trying to make a statement or make a mark."

Corset: Ronald van der Kemp, Bracelets: Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience), Earrings: Lana Jewelry (The Residency Experience), Engagement ring: Gwen's own

Even the Saweetie remix of her latest single "Slow Clap" happened on a whim, after the younger artist happened to post a video of herself vibing to Stefani's 2004 single "Luxurious" on Instagram Stories. They knocked out the song and accompanying video in a day. Neither seems bothered by the Old Navy meme. "It was just this little video that we did on the fly," Stefani says. "It just happened. It just feels good to put new stuff out there."

Stefani completed a two-year Vegas greatest hits residency in 2019, which gave her a sense of perspective on her own legacy. "You make a new record because that's what is exciting for you," she says. "But people really just want to hear the records after a while that were the backdrop to their lives, a 'Don't Speak' or a 'Just a Girl' or a 'Hollaback Girl,' or whatever it was for them. So, you know, it's hard — you can only be new when you're new, and that's just the truth, and I know that."

She says she was pleasantly surprised that "Let Me Reintroduce Myself" charted at all, and that she only found out it did when Shelton walked into the kitchen to show her the iTunes numbers. "I burst out crying with joy, because it was like, 'Whoa, really?' I think I'd set myself up to be quite realistic about where I'm at."

Stefani, endlessly polite and self-deprecating in conversation, which on her end mostly consists of endearingly earnest run-on monologues, says she still has "tons" of insecurities. I get the impression she has been trying harder to give herself credit lately. She recalls recently hearing Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" on the car radio and finding herself in awe of the song's timeless catchiness.

Suit: Balmain, Earrings and choker: Lana Jewelry (The Residency Experience), Necklaces: Gwen's own

"But then I started thinking," she says, in a goofy Cher Horowitz tone. "Like, I have a few of those myself." She talks of this realization as a genuine breakthrough, which is a little worrying for a woman who has sold 40 million records. No shit, she has a "few of those." More of them than Lauper, actually.

More new music is coming along slowly, but I've caught Stefani on a day when the horizon looks closer than usual, and while things haven't quite fallen into place yet, she's feeling more confident that they eventually will. "I'm at the end," she declares. "The idea of going for a session and not being with my kids or the idea of taking time away from Blake doesn't fuel my fire like it did two months ago. I need to decide, wrap it up, put out the project."

Crucially, there's no rush. The album will simply arrive sometime this year, tracklist and title currently undecided.

"You're talking to me at a weird transitional time," Stefani says repeatedly throughout our conversation, which sometimes takes on the cathartic tone of therapy. But having time in the first place is a new feeling.

Bracelet and choker: Dana Kemp (The Residency Experience), Obsession necklace: Lidow Archive, Gold necklaces: Gwen's own, Clothing: Blumarine, Boots: Philipp Plein

NO DOUBT WERE A BAND for nine years before getting on the radio. Enough time for Stefani and bassist Tony Kanal to be in a long term relationship then break up and write a whole hit album about it. All of the Fleetwood Mac drama was resolved pre-fame, which enabled the group to capitalize on the surprise success of Tragic Kingdom singles like "Don't Speak" and "Just a Girl" with a world tour that lasted almost three years. Three more albums followed, and Stefani has reinforced her household name status in every decade since, launching a solo career and multiple fashion lines while never totally cutting the cord from her original musical project.

In other words, record executives have been dictating Stefani's schedule since the mid-'90s. She even sings about it on Love. Angel. Music. Baby opener "What You Waiting For," in which her biological clock ticks like a metronome. Interscope Co-Founder Jimmy Iovine, who discovered No Doubt and continued to work with Stefani on her solo output, was quick to point out that his client's prime childbearing years were also her last opportunity to cross over into pop stardom. And after her first record went number one, it only made sense to lay down some new tracks straight away.

"Whether or not I get the response that I would hope to get — because that's what I'm used to, because I'm so damn spoiled and I've tasted the blood of success — I still got to do the creative journey."

"I had the baby, the first one, and it was only like eight weeks after I had him, that Jimmy was calling me saying, you've got to go in the studio with Akon," Stefani recalls cheerfully. "Like, Akon wants to work with you. Like, no, I'm nursing my baby. But then I couldn't say no." And then? "We wrote 'Sweet Escape.'" And then? "I went on a world tour." And then? "In the month that I got home from that one hundred and whatever shows it was, I got pregnant with Zuma. So then that was that." (It wasn't. Admittedly: "Then it was like, No Doubt, let's do another record.")

Things are different now: "You can just drop singles and you don't have to put a record out. But if you want to put a record out, you can work on it slowly." But even as she talks of slowing down, speculating that she might not even go on tour after the pandemic ends, in the next sentence Stefani's back to admitting that there's more work to be done, that she wants to write a couple more songs for her new record, "just to make sure."

Earrings: Lana Jewelry (The Residency Experience) Choker: Chanel, Necklaces: Gwen's own, Gloves: Laurel DeWitt, Top: Local Boogeyman

"The creation is the thing that fuels me so much," she says. "Whether or not I get the response that I would hope to get — because that's what I'm used to, because I'm so damn spoiled and I've tasted the blood of success — I still got to do the creative journey."

Like any good lyricist, she reaches out to her listener, hoping to convey a more universal point. "It's just probably the same for you as a writer," she guesses. "You know, it's the anticipation. You're in it now. You're getting the information. This is what you live for. You're doing the interview and then you're going to write it. And that's going to be the challenge."

GWEN STEFANI WAS PUTTING out diary entry pop when Olivia Rodrigo was still in diapers and Taylor Swift was but a humble Pennsylvania Christmas tree heiress. She struggles to pen lyrics that aren't confessional ("I'm not a creative writer when it comes to like, 'Oh, let's just write a sad song about something that didn't happen to me'"), and occasionally re-traumatizes herself when performing old hits. Return of Saturn deep cut "Dark Blue" triggers "crazy, just horrible" recollections of a past relationship. Even "Don't Speak" felt emotional onstage in Vegas.

But after releasing an excruciating divorce album, This Is What the Truth Feels Like, in 2016, Stefani is back to writing happy songs only. She's getting married, after all. She won't be releasing any of her trademark breakup anthems anytime soon. "Girl," she laughs, "I think I've had my fair share."

Bow: Laurel DeWitt, Earrings: Lana Jewelry (The Residency Experience), Bracelets: Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience), Shirt: Vintage Archive, Dress: Erdem, Tights: Capezio, Shoes: Marc Jacobs (Lidow Archive)

Stefani and Shelton's relationship has puzzled some fans. Shelton, a country radio phenomenon, never endorsed Trump in the 2016 election, but he did come close. Earlier this year, he was criticized for releasing a song called "Minimum Wage," about finding small joys during periods of economic struggle, at the peak of a recession.

Is Gwen Stefani a Republican now? She's not offended by the question, or really anything I have to ask. She has been famous for so long that she expects and even embraces scrutiny. "If you're going to be a star, that's what you get," she says. "You know what I mean? You get what you get, and you don't get upset, at all."

As for her politics, it's read-between-the-lines."I can see how people would be curious, but I think it's pretty obvious who I am," she says. "I've been around forever. I started my band because we were really influenced by ska, which was a movement that happened in the late '70s, and it was really all about people coming together. The first song I ever wrote was a song called 'Different People,' which was on the Obama playlist, you know, a song about everyone being different and being the same and loving each other. The very first song I wrote."

One of very few multi-racial bands playing stadium shows for hoardes of American teenangers in the 1990s, No Doubt did very literally embody those second-wave ska principles of inclusion. Stefani even wore bindis and saris on stage as a symbol of cultural exchange with Kanal, who is Indian-American, briefly kickstarting a white girl facial jewelry trend that it's safe to say would not fly in 2021.

Rings (left): Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience)

"The Specials and The Selecter and all those groups, and what they were doing in the late '70s was this whole kind of anti-racism, we come together, Black and white ska movement," Stefani elaborates on the band's founding principles. "And we were sort of echoing that in the '80s when we did it, we were like the third generation of ska."

Ska she's always happy to discuss, but Stefani was brought up to keep her electoral preferences personal, and that rule has held for her entire career. "The whole point of voting, is you have this personal space to feel how you feel," she explains. "I use my platform to share my life story and to engage with people and to exchange whatever gift I was giving. I'm not a political science major. I am not that person. Everyone knows that. So why would I even talk about it?"

"I don't need to go on Instagram and say 'girl power.' I just need to live and be a good person and leave a trail of greatness behind me."

It never has been. Looking back, it's weird that "Just a Girl" is so integral to Gwen Stefani's brand. She's never written anything else with remotely the same message, and or publicly identified as a feminist. To Stefani, it's just a song about growing up, and "all of a sudden you realize your gender." It wasn't meant as a protest or anthem: in fact, being her breakout hit, she didn't think anyone other than her bandmates and some local fans would ever hear it.

"I don't even know if I knew what feminist at that time was," she says. "I was very sheltered growing up with my family. I wasn't political. I wasn't angry." Even now: "I don't need to go on Instagram and say 'girl power.' I just need to live and be a good person and leave a trail of greatness behind me. Stop talking about it and stop trying to bully everybody about it. Just do it. And that's how I feel like I've lived my life."

WHEN STEFANI WAS GROWING up in 1970s Anaheim, her father got a job doing market research for Yamaha, which required frequent business trips to Japan. He'd bring home Sanrio toys, as well as anecdotes about the Tokyo district of Harajuku, where teenagers were dressing like Elvis, and "taking all these American things and making them Japanese." His daughter was entranced. "He would be telling me these things my whole life, like my whole life. I had a deep fascination."

So when No Doubt played Japan in 1996, Stefani describes, "It was a pretty big deal for me." The tour was the first time she'd traveled outside of the United states, save one trip to Italy when she was 21. "I just was inspired," she recalls. "It's a world away. And at that time it was even further, because you couldn't see it on the internet. I don't think a younger generation can even imagine what it's like to not have access to the world."

From then on, Japan became one of Stefani's biggest career motivations, especially when it came to her solo albums. If she could just write more hits, she'd get to tour there again, see the street style, visit the vintage stores. "If you read the actual lyrics [in 'What You Waiting For?'], it talks about being a fan of Japan and how if I do good, I get to go back there," she says.

In the meantime, she decided she'd bring Japan to Los Angeles. "I never got to have dancers with No Doubt. I never got to change costumes. I never got to do all of those fun girl things that I always love to do. So I had this idea that I would have a posse of girls — because I never got to hang with girls — and they would be Japanese, Harajuku girls, because those are the girls that I love. Those are my homies. That's where I would be if I had my dream come true, I could go live there and I could go hang out in Harajuku."

Earrings, bracelets and rings: Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience, Gold Necklaces: Gwen's own, Top: Local Boogeyman, Pants: GCDS, Shoes: Valentino

Dancers Maya Chino ("Love"), Jennifer Kita ("Angel"), Rino Nakasone ("Music") and Mayuko Kitayama ("Baby") would go on to accompany Stefani for her next two album cycles, dancing on stage and in her videos while also making silent, but very well-dressed, awards show appearances. Kita, who'd grown up in LA, visited Japan for the first time on Stefani's tour.

In a 2006 interview with Blender magazine, comedian Margaret Cho compared the Harajuku Girls to a minstrel show. The backlash against them has been consistent ever since. Stefani, to this day, disagrees.

"If we didn't buy and sell and trade our cultures in, we wouldn't have so much beauty, you know?" she says. "We learn from each other, we share from each other, we grow from each other. And all these rules are just dividing us more and more."

Hello Kitty merch was harder to come by when she was a kid, but in other ways, life felt easier. "I think that we grew up in a time where we didn't have so many rules. We didn't have to follow a narrative that was being edited for us through social media, we just had so much more freedom."

Earrings, bracelets and rings: Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience), Necklaces: Gwen's own, Dress: GCDS, Shirt: Faith Connexion, Tights: Capezio, Shoes: Marc Jacobs (Lidow Archive)

Stefani's penchant for rule breaking has always been apparent in her music as much as her aesthetic. Genre-wise, she's a randomista. The chart success of No Doubt's bouncing ska beats felt like an accidental post-grunge-era glitch in the matrix, and it's insane to this day that one of Stefani's biggest solo hits samples "If I Were a Rich Man" from Fiddler on the Roof, by way of '90s British dancehall duo Louchie Lou & Michie One. That another, "Wind It Up," features earnest Sound of Music yodeling.

"I just make up whatever comes out," Stefani says of her songwriting process. "I don't even know where it comes from. I feel like it just comes from the source. It's not trained, and it's not perfect, it's just real."

She looks back on the Love.Angel.Music.Baby era as unusually experimental and artistically fulfilling. "It was just a really incredible time, and a very creative time. I feel like it was just a really creative project."

STEFANI VIEWS HER CAREER success as mostly a matter of luck. Pop stardom is God-given and mysterious."Because the fact I made it, it doesn't make any sense," she reflects. "It's written in the stars. You know what I'm saying? I'm not the most talented. I'm not the most pretty. I'm not the most smart. None of those things. But I made it, right?"

Clothing: Blumarine, Bracelet and choker: Dena Kemp (The Residency Experience), Obsession necklace: Lidow Archive, Gold necklaces: Gwen's Own

Every week on The Voice she watches objectively gifted musicians fail at becoming artists. "I watched people that went through that without seeing their faces, without knowing what color they are. And I chose the ones that pulled my heartstrings. And even though they were so talented, none of them have had careers. It's made me look at myself and even feel even more amazed by the fact that anyone cared or cares."

If all of this is actually so out of her control, then Stefani feels safe stepping back a little bit. "I don't have that fuel in me like I used to, because I already won," she says. And now she has other victories in mind. "Being a good human, a good mother. I want to have a good marriage. I want to be a good wife. I want to win at finding peace. I want to win at finding other hobbies that I'm good at."

But at the same time? "If I'm inspired, I'm going to try to do something with that inspiration." That's the most fun part: whatever else comes after has always been an amazing bonus.

The "Let Me Reintroduce Myself" era, whatever form it may eventually take, isn't a desperate grab at former glory. It's Stefani refusing to evolve for the sake of it. She's poking fun at the whole idea of having to compete with past personas alongside current ones, while acknowledging the fact she's grateful to still be in the game at all.

"You don't know what you're doing," she says, somehow both confident and resigned. "You're a cartoon of yourself at this point, and you don't know what people are thinking. They're wondering, what? Why are you still here? And I'm like, I don't know. They said I could be here. So I'm here!"

Photography: Jamie Nelson Styling: Nicola Formichetti Hair: Sami Knight Makeup: Michael Anthony Nails: Carolyn Orellana Wardrobe director: Marta Del Rio Production: Katrina Kudlick Digitatech: Sean MacGillivray Logo design: Luca Devinu Story: Kat Gillespie

FROM YOUR SITE ARTICLES

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canyouhearthelight · 4 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 118

Winding down to the end of 2020, when there will be an announcement regarding the story. No worries: I’m not stopping at the end of the year!

First, thanks for this chapter go to: @zommbiebro for Jokul, @wildforestferret for Hannah, @baelpenrose for Alistair and being an amazing Beta Reader/writing partner, and @raven-fae for originally giving me the NERVE to start posting this so long ago. I never imagined that a one-off response to a writing prompt would become so much!

Housekeeping stuff: I updated the Master List and the page links over the weekend (whew), and also finished all the chapters that will post through the end of the year! Much excite, so relief.

Rushing between appointments, I was trying to multitask by looking over one of the files for the cooking class volunteers. Quiet beeps in the back of my mind should have reminded me to watch where I was going as I kept setting off proximity warnings in people I nearly ran into. I was so focused on my task that I ignored the mutters around me of how rude I was being, until the alert suddenly started getting louder and louder, practically screaming before I snapped out of my trance and stopped walking.

In front of me was a familiar set of broad shoulders, and just past him was a wall that I nearly ran us both into. “Conor, what are you doing?” I asked, started to see him seemingly just staring at a wall and humming away.

He turned toward me with a grin, dropping a kiss on the top of my head in greeting. “I didn’t realize that was you,” he answered. “I heard someone coming, but figured they would either turn or rather run into me than the wall.”

“And why are you staring at the wall?”

“Wasn’t staring,” he corrected. “I was working on this.” He stepped aside with a flourish, revealing one of the wall-tanks set up throughout the Ark for Else. Soft yellow motes drifted in the tank, evidence of Else’s continued breakneck evolution. However, this tank had something new in it…

“You put snowflakes in there?” I asked, confused.

He ran a hand through his hair and laughed. “When Sam, Derek, and I started putting out the Insert Winter Holiday decorations this week, Else got curious and asked what we were doing. Derek explained - he talks to them better than I do - and they wanted something in their habitat, too, like we have.”

“And you decided on snowflakes?”

“Else picked that, actually. They are very curious about snow, since they developed… well, here, where there is no weather…”

“I guess that is fair.” Suddenly, I felt rude for talking about Else like they weren’t present. I still hadn’t gotten in the habit of speaking directly to them. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you…” I cringed a little inside.

Is okay, Else replied. We are not offended. Will we see real snow one day?

I thought about it. “Probably? Von has atmosphere, and the nights are long enough that the temperature probably gets really cold. It may have the right conditions for snow.”

Many humans think snow is beautiful. We would like to see snow.

“You and me both, buddy,” I admitted. “I love it.”

Conor shuddered. “No thank you. You can keep your cold mush.” Checking his databand, he groaned. “I have to get going. See you later, Else.” He dropped another kiss on my head. “I’ll see you at dinner,” he promised.

“No bruises?”

“No bruises.”

I smiled before jumping to check the time myself. “Shit,” I swore softly. “Else, I gotta go, too. I have an appointment five minutes ago.”

Humans can time travel?

“I wish,” I muttered, practically running to get there on time. I prayed that Alistair kept Hannah busy while I raced to our interview.

I showed up breathless and dishevelled, but only ten minutes late. Great first impression you’re giving, I scolded myself as I tried to get my hair somewhat more tidy and catch my breath. Straightening, I scanned my datapad and entered my office.

Hannah was nodding seriously at something Alistair was saying, and all I could do was pray he wasn’t telling her some embarrassing story about me. Both of them looked up as I entered, and Hannah approached me to shake my hand. “Hello, Sophia! Or should I address you as Councillor. I’m not entirely sure…”

“Sophia is fine,” I reassured her. “Did Alistair explain why I asked you to meet with me today?”

She shook her head. “No, we were just talking about Zachary’s work with Councilor Ranganathan.”

“That is part of it,” I agreed. “Zach is one of several people who Pranav is mentoring, hoping to build a pool of candidates to fill his position in the future. I asked you to meet with me to see if you would be interested in doing the same, with me?”

Her eyes widened. “You want me… to learn your job?”

“I assure you, it is much safer than I make it look.” I tried to sound confident, but was already bracing for her to reject the position.

“It’s not that - “ Wait, what? “I just. Do you really think I could?”

“You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think you could do it,” I assured her, somewhat dumbfounded. Recovering quickly, I pushed on. “I want to be clear - this is an elected position, so there is no guarantee that you would be my successor. The goal of the mentorship is to help you decide if you even want to do it, at all, along with ensuring that the Ark has the opportunity to choose between people who definitely know how to do the job. And more importantly, want to do the job.”

Alistair picked up from there. “In the Before, if you remember, many elections were decisions based on which candidate would do the least harm, rather than the most good. The Council is trying to change that.”

She nodded in understanding. “So there would be other people you are mentoring?”

So far, so good. “Hopefully three, yes.”

“Will you be working with us at the same time?”

“If all three of you accept, I am hoping to work with each of you one day per week individually, and the rest collectively,” I confirmed. “More specific than that, I will meet with all of you to explain once I know who has accepted. But I wanted to extend the offer in person, so I can answer any questions you may have.”

Hannah nodded again. “Would we be working the same hours you do?”

I was very glad Alistair and I already thought that part through, along with Tyche’s input. “Initially, no. You would only work half of my shift, and what half would be at my discretion. However, this would be considered your job allotment, so you would not have to worry about any schedule conflicts. The only reason I will be deciding which half of my shift you work is because it may change due to Council meetings that you may not be privy to, or if there is nothing beneficial to your learning happening during the other half.”

“Why only half?” She asked.

“Councilors generally work double shifts,” Alistair advised her. When her eyes widened again, he continued, “In my experience, as her assistant, she will never ask you to work as much as she does, but she is very insistent that if she is not working, neither are you.”

I shook my head at him. “What he isn’t explaining is that there are also often large gaps in my day when I have no appointments and no paperwork to go through. So being in the office for sixteen to twenty hours sounds grueling, but I am rarely here the entire time. That’s just the window when people are allowed to set appointments, or when the Council can convene outside of emergencies.”

Her shoulders sagged with relief. “I was honestly about to walk out until you explained that a bit better.”

I leaned over to Alistair and hissed. “People skills!”

“Professionalism…” he murmured back.

Hannah smiled at our antics. “Another question: What exactly do you do?”

I groaned, and Alistair smirked at me. Jokul had been so right on that point that it wasn’t even funny. “Since Zach is shadowing Pranav, I’m going to assume you know how the parts about voting in Council sessions works, right?” She nodded. “Okay, so that’s the big part that most people know about. They vote on an issue, their votes go to their representative Councilor, who votes on their behalf, short version. On a day to day basis, each Councilor is responsible for heading up everything on the Ark in a certain field. For me, that’s any large scale events, staffing, or major adjustments to how people are able to live their day-to-day lives. I have one assistant,” I gestured to Alistair, “and an Administrator, my sister Tyche. She handles all of the small staffing concerns, because she is amazing at it.”

“So… Insert Winter Holiday, the annual Food festival…?”

I nodded. “Along with the gravity changes, the day cycle changes, the proximity alerts, creating and maintaining quiet rooms, finding people to back fill gaps caused by large projects or initiatives, large scale announcements to the ship, et cetera.”

“That’s… a lot…” She bit her bottom lip in concern.

“Really, it’s a handful of major events each year, plus the daily stuff. And I work really closely with the other Councilors, largely because once most projects are past a staffing point, it falls under their jurisdiction to execute.”

Slowly, she nodded. “Okay…” After a moment, she nodded much more firmly. “Okay, I’ll try it.”

One down, two to go, I cheered in my head as I resisted the urge to scream with joy.

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #aliens #original science fiction #science fiction #scifi #apocalypse #learning to live #hfy #earth is space australia #original writing #my writing

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petri808 · 4 years

Text

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30-Epilogue

Lucy POV. TW: Panic Attack, Mental trauma/coping, PTSD

The university and Lucy’s professors had been really wonderful about everything, even offering to convert her classes to an online option so she could continue. She wasn’t happy about the idea of taking a sabbatical from college, but there was no way she could manage. Not only was it difficult for her to leave the apartment because seeing anyone that remotely resembled Touka sent her into a panic attack, focusing on anything at all was a struggle. Night after night it haunted her dreams and spilled into her waking moments. She’d run scenarios through her mind, all the what if’s, should haves, could haves, often leading to horrifying outcomes. They’d survived, yes, but at what cost?

She didn’t feel the same anymore as if a part of her did die in that apartment or fled to a hidden part of her brain too scared to come back out. The once happy, positive person had become a nervous wreck unable to control her emotions or outbursts. Lucy’s bedroom became her safe zone from everyone, even those closest to her, ashamed and insecure of their judgement. In her heart she knew friends like Levy or Natsu wouldn’t judge... but tell that to her broken mind, because her brain was the one in control at the moment, and insisted they’d look down on her.

All the irrational thoughts. It was her fault for not being careful, her fault she was kidnapped. Lucy knew Touka was growing dangerous, yet walking alone, at night... utterly stupid. She should have been overzealous at protecting herself, but oh no, stupid girl didn’t want to believe anything would actually happen. Until it did. And now she was even more pathetic and weak for not getting a hold of her emotions, for not controlling it instead of it controlling her. The danger had passed. They were alive. Touka was in jail. It should be over, but it wasn’t. Lucy couldn’t move past that night, stuck in an endless loop of fear. So many nights she’d wake up in a panic covered in sweat, the fading images of red... blood... like dripping down a tv screen in a horror movie. It was Natsu’s blood she saw and his screams when the knife had sliced him open.

The first week after the event had been difficult, sitting through an interview with Gajeel, and reliving all the mental wounds. It took several hours to get through it all despite the man doing his best to go easy on her. Each time painful parts came up, Lucy felt the anxieties rise, the mental blurring, the shaking, literally a physical shaking of her body in an effort to dispel the rise of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Interviews are best done without any other potential witnesses in the room to avoid cross contamination, but after Lucy’s first two attempts to talk to investigators failed, Gajeel was forced to allow Natsu in with explicit instructions to sit quietly and say nothing while the woman talked. Of course, Natsu’d been fine with that, he’d do anything to help, even if it was just holding Lucy’s hand. But it only added to her embarrassment. Surely Natsu will eventually tire of having an unstable girlfriend.

Then there was the therapist Levy helped Lucy to find which she hoped would help her to quickly get over the events and move on. So, when the woman explained that such traumas take patience and time to process, Lucy was devastated. It almost felt like nothing was going her way anymore, falling dominoes with no end in sight. She felt so ashamed for having to see the woman in the first place, and now she’s told it would be a long journey towards recovery. Just great! What’s next?!

“Lu?” Levy knocked before opening the bedroom door. “Are you gonna eat your dinner in here again? It’s ready.”

With the curtains drawn, Lucy’s room was dark and the only light available was a small desk lamp next to the bed set to a low setting. She peeked out from under her blanket. “I-I’ll come out in a minute, thanks Lev.”

As soon as her friend closed the door, Lucy exhaled in relief. She knew Levy was worried about the amount of time she stayed holed up in the room, so to dispel some of those concerns, Lucy would join her roommate for meals. She quickly applied a gauze wrap, threw on her long sleeve hoodie, and left the room. It made her feel safer to be shrouded and covered up, so gone were her skirts and tank tops, and hello to long sleeves and pants. If she could cover her face from the world, it would make her happy. Even her overall hygiene suffered. Lucy would forget to bathe or wash her hair for days on end, and it took Levy or Natsu with gentle prodding to get her to do it. She would wear the same clothes for a week if it wasn’t for Levy who made sure she changed at least every couple of days. Hell, she’d starve if her roommate wasn’t feeding her. This was a frustrating cycle, not having the mental energy to take care of herself, then feeling bad because they had to help her with things, which made her feel even worse.

It tore at Lucy’s heart to watch Natsu going through this process with her. She knew he was going through his own struggles, not just mental, but physically healing from his wounds. And here she was, the basket case of instability. Bless him, he never gave up no matter how distant she grew, but after that night, Lucy really didn’t want to talk about anything out loud, not that night, and certainly not the true extent of her pain from it. Both Levy and Natsu knew only what she couldn’t hide from them. Like the panic attacks, and since she really didn’t want them to see her go through one or what she’d resorted to, to calm herself, so the safest solution was stay quiet and not trigger them in their presence.

To show his dedication, Natsu even went with her to her therapy sessions and waited outside the office. Lucy knew it was costing him money to do this, because she couldn’t ride a train which meant cab rides every single trip. It bothered her a lot, but she did her best to hide it, and besides there was one small measure of security in having him at her side when she needed to venture out into the public.

“So, the nightmares are still a problem?” the therapist questioned Lucy. “Are you sure you don’t want to try a medication? It would help to ease them until we can get things under control.”

Lucy gripped to the hem of her sweater. “I just don’t wanna become addicted to that stuff...”

“That’s understandable. But not all are addictive, and I’ll be here to make sure it doesn’t get out of hand.”

“I... I don’t think I’m ready.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” the woman smiled. “Remember I’m just here to help you, at your pace. I won’t force you take anything you don’t want to.”

“Thank you.”

“What about the breathing and relaxation techniques? When you feel the anxiety rising, are you trying out the steps?”

“I try... I don’t think I’m very successful at it.”

“Does it work sometimes?”

Lucy pauses for a few seconds in thought before nodding yes.

“See, that is progress!” The woman encouraged excitedly. “Two weeks ago, it didn’t help at all, and now it works sometimes. It’s a big step forward Lucy.”

“Doesn’t feel like it is...” Lucy mumbled.

“I know it’s hard to see it for yourself, and that’s okay. These things take time and practice. Do you remember what I said about these things?”

“Not really.” Which was true. During the first week when the therapist explained the processes, Lucy had stopped listening as soon as the woman said it would take time.

“Let me ask you a question. You like to write stories, right?”

“Yeah.”

“When you first started, were you able to just write perfect stories.”

“Pfft, no.”

“Then how did you get better at it?”

Lucy rolled her eyes, knowing where this was going. “Practice.”

“Yes! The PTSD requires learning new coping skills as well as unlearning irrational ones. To do both takes practice. The more we work at it, the easier it will get, I promise. One day you’ll be able to look back at this experience and feel stronger for it.”

She really wanted to believe the woman, but it was so hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel! Tears well up in Lucy’s eyes, seconds before they start to flow down her cheeks. “Why is this so hard?! I just wanna get back to normal!” She could feel her anxieties rising. “I... I-I don’t wanna talk about it anymore! I just wanna forget it ever happened!”

The woman reached over and took Lucy’s hand, applying a strategic amount of pressure while rubbing her thumb over the webbing in a counter stimulus. She softened in tone. “I wish I could say that would work, but in order to get past it, you need to confront it. Together we’re gonna turn the boogieman into Casper the friendly ghost.”

It was such a weird way of putting things, it caused Lucy’s mind to snap out of the anxiety and snort a sniffling laugh in response. “Casper the friendly ghost?!”

“It was the first thing to pop into my mind,” the therapist laughed too. “The point is, we’re going to work together and slowly bring you to a place where this no longer scares you.”

“O-Okay...”

The rest of the session was tough, and Lucy had come close to a panic attack several times, but as a trained therapist, the woman stepped in at the right times to bring her levels down again using breaks and breathing routines. Sure, with a professional in front of you, it wasn’t as bad, but doing this on her own, the attacks were still winning. At the end of the session, the woman suggested a new technique to try out based on Lucy’s love of writing.

“You’ve heard of art therapy, so just think of this as a different form of creative therapy. Writing a diary is helpful to get out your feelings out in a healthy way. But let’s take it one step forward to use your skills in fiction writing. I want you to try before the next session, writing a story where you interject your emotions, feelings, whatever you want into the characters and story. Kind of like your character becomes you, but now you get to control what happens to them after the trauma they endure.”

“Wait, so you want me to write about a character that goes through what I went through?! Like torture my own character?!”

“Yes, to put it bluntly. Take your pain and unleash it onto the fictional character. It’s a much healthier way of releasing your anger or frustration in something that can’t really be hurt. Do whatever you want to them. But remember you also get to give them the ending you want to. It’s about utilizing a tool you’re already comfortable with and taking back some control. It’ll be normal if you cry, scream, and get upset through the process, but that’s okay, because instead of holding it all in, you’re getting your feelings out.”

Lucy slumped back in her seat. It sounded strange, yet at the same time made a bit of sense to her. Angst type stories were not really her forte, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do it, especially since pain is all she was channeling at the moment. She sighed. “I’ll try.”

“And that’s totally okay. All I ask is that you give it a try.”

#nalu #nalu fan fic #nalu au #nalu fan fiction #Natsu dragneel #Lucy heartfilia #Natsu x lucy #nalu fanfiction #strangers on a train #ch 24 #angst #TW: panic attack #TW: PTSD

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fics-n-stuff · 4 years

Text

Empty Castle

Pairing: JJ x reader

Summary: Three weeks after John B and Sarah Cameron were lost at sea, Kildare is still reeling from the dramatic events surrounding the death of its sheriff. JJ in particular has been struggling to get back to normal, so Y/N goes to try and help him get back on his feet. Sequel to Holding Cell.

Warnings: tiny bit of swearing, v sad JJ

Word Count: 4.2k (about double what I originally intended)

A/N: This took way longer than expected and I didn't mean for this to be so sad but it got real sad, so there isn't really anything beyond platonic until towards the end. I would highly suggest that you read Holding Cell first (perhaps because I worked hard on it and I want people to read it) but if you really don't want to then all you really need to know is that JJ and Y/N were childhood friends but hadn't spoken for two years until they both got arrested on the same day and they decided to be friends again. Cool, enjoy! :)

The bell for the end of school rang and the crowd of teenagers swarmed out, and you made your way to the bike rack along with your friends.

"So, my house for movie night?" Jess said, and the rest of your friends chorused in agreement.

"Actually, I have something else to do." You replied, fastening your helmet. "I'll come by after if I finish up in time."

"What are you doing?"

"I need to go see someone." You replied, quickly getting on your bike before any further questions could be asked. "Later guys."

You cycled out to the house that you knew was where John B lived - basically the entire island knew where he lived after everything that had happened - and left your bike on the porch. The front door was open.

"JJ?" You called tentatively. "Are you here?" You heard movement from one of the rooms and turned towards it, seeing JJ walk out a few moments later. He looked disheveled, shirtless and with messy hair.

"Y/N?" He asked, surprised. His voice was slightly gravelly, like he'd woken up not long ago. "Why are you here?"

"I came to find you, JJ. School started on Monday, you've missed the whole week."

"School started?" His question made you frown in worry. "Wait, how did know I'd be here?"

"Because you're not anywhere else." You answered, putting down your school bag. "Nobody's really seen you. I stopped by at your house and your dad said-"

"You did what?"

"Relax, JJ, it's not as if he has any idea who I am. And he told me that you haven't been home in two weeks."

"I'm surprised he's kept track." JJ muttered.

"Clearly you haven't." The comment made JJ pause. He ruffled his hair and let out a long sigh, looking down at his own appearance. "What have you been doing these past weeks?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "It's kinda blurred. I go to work, I go fishing, I smoke. I really didn't realise that school had started." He crossed the room to the sofa and grabbed a tank top off of the back of it, throwing it on before making his way to the kitchen.

"So I take it you've just been living here." You stated, looking around the mess that had accumulated in the house.

"Yeah. Pope and Lie have been staying away from the place ever since, uh..." He trailed off, pushing his tongue against his cheek and clearing his throat. "But me, I'm here basically all the time. They use Heyward's boat so I've got the HMS Pogue all to myself; they use Kie's car, I get that busted up van." He laughed, but there was a real sadness behind it.

You watched JJ as he made himself a sandwich, and even from a distance you could tell that there was barely any food in that kitchen. A few seconds passed and you spun on your heel, starting to collect empty food packages from around the room.

"What are you doing?"

"Cleaning." You answered matter-of-factly. "If you insist on staying here, I insist that you keep it clean."

"Why do you even care?"

When you turned around to face him JJ was leaning against the kitchen door frame. He wasn't looking at you, rather he was staring at the floor. His body language was relaxed but you knew that that wasn't how he was feeling.

"What happened to the 'giving to whole friendship thing another try' deal?" You replied. "I'm just trying to live up to my side of the agreement."

"Maybe that wasn't such a great idea."

"Okay." You muttered after a stretch of silence. "Let's try this again later. You go off back to your bedroom or whatever, I'll clean up here and we can reconvene at a later time." You pushed past him into the kitchen to look through the cabinets for trash bags, and when you found them you pushed past him back to the living room.

"Y/N-"

"I'm not leaving, JJ, so don't even try it." You interrupted, throwing empty bottles and cans into a trash bag. You heard him mutter something under his breath and disappear down the hall, slamming the door shut behind him. You scoffed and continued clearing the house.

You got rid of all of the trash from the living room and the kitchen before knocking on the door to the room JJ had shut himself in. By now he'd had about half an hour of preparation for a civil conversation.

When you opened the door he was lying on his back on the bed with a hat covering his face, but you knew he was awake because he kept fiddling with his fingers and tensing and untensing his jaw.

"You ready to talk about it?" You asked softly, taking a seat at the foot of the bed.

"No." He mumbled, his response muffled by the hat over his face.

"Want a hug?" He didn't answer, so you took his silence to mean 'yes but I don't want to say it out loud'. You kicked off your shoes and shuffled up the bed so that you were lying beside JJ, draping an arm over his body and resting your head on his chest. He let out a long sigh and slowly wrapped his arm around your body, pulling you in closer.

You stayed like that for a long time, just listening to yourselves breathe while you waited for JJ to be ready to talk to you.

"We really ran off a cliff, didn't we?" He finally broke the silence, his voice quiet and full of emotion as he removed the hat from over his face. "Pope lost his scholarship, I've become a complete pothead, John B and Sarah are missing. We don't even have the gold."

"Gold?" You questioned.

"We found the wreck of the Merchant, Y/N." He whispered, staring up at the ceiling. "And we found the gold, underneath the Craine house, and Ward Cameron took the whole lot out from under us while the town was on a manhunt for John B."

"Oh my god, JJ!" You exclaimed, sitting up. "You seriously found the Merchant gold?"

"Yep. To finish what Big John started. But it doesn't matter now, it's gone. Just like John B." His voice broke as he said his best friend's name, and you lay back down beside him.

"I'm sorry."

"They could still be out there, right?" JJ murmured. "I mean, they found the Phantom but they didn't find John B and Sarah. Maybe they got picked up by a ship."

"Yeah of course, that's totally possible." You nodded. The silence stretched out again, JJ sniffling every now and then as if holding back from crying.

After a while you sat up, getting JJ's attention and he turned his head to look at you.

"Let's go grocery shopping." You said. "There's barely any food in this house, you need some supplies."

"I haven't really got the money, Y/N."

"My parents just left town and I never spend all of the money that they leave so we can use that." You replied adamantly. "You need to get some human contact, okay? So let's go."

You climbed off of the bed and put your shoes back on before pulling JJ up as well. Reluctantly, he put on some shoes and grabbed the keys to John B's van.

+++

The two of you were out for about an hour. You stopped off at your house to grab the cash before going to the grocery store, where you ended up leading the shopping trip because JJ apparently had basically no knowledge of nutrition. Being with another person seemed to bring JJ out of the haze that he had been presumably for the past few weeks; he even smiled at a joke you made while you were at the checkout.

"I didn't expect you to have enough money for a full grocery shop." JJ said as the two of you packed the food away in the kitchen.

"Well, because my parents don't talk to each other they also don't coordinate their trips out of town which most often results in them both leaving money for me." You explained. "I never tell them, I just keep the extra cash as compensation for the neglect." You smiled, closing the cabinet you had been packing things into and turning around to take a seat on the counter. JJ finished putting away the last of the groceries and leant against the wall opposite you, folding his arms over his chest.

"Why'd you really come find me?" He asked.

"Well, after John B and Sarah got lost in the storm it was obvious that you weren't going to be doing the best." You answered, watching him carefully to gauge how he was feeling. "And when you didn't show up for school all of this week, I figured that you might need a friend to bring you back to reality."

"I, uh, I appreciate that." He nodded, his lips turning upwards into a small smile.

"Happy to help." A silence settled between you again, as it had many times throughout the evening, but it felt a little different this time; slightly more tense, but not in a bad way.

"Do you wanna go out on the boat?" JJ suggested. "The sun's about to set."

"Sure. Sounds nice." You replied, hopping off of the counter. His smile grew and he kicked off the wall, adjusting his hat on his head as he headed back to the front door, you following after.

You took a seat on the bow of the boat while JJ got it going, and you stayed in silence as he drove you out into the marsh. The sky was orange and violet when he anchored the Pogue, and he came to take a seat beside you.

"It's nice, isn't it?" He said quietly, looking out at the sun setting over the water. "I come out here most nights if I'm not still at work."

"Yeah, it's beautiful." You nodded. "What's your job?"

"Busboy in a hotel restaurant. You got a job?"

"Nah, I've got my absent parent money." You looked over at JJ and you could see sympathy in his eyes. "Don't feel bad for me, it's really not so terrible." You chuckled. You didn't need sympathy; certainly not from JJ, who was in a far more difficult situation than you.

You talked idly as you watched the sunset and when the sky turned dark you had settled into silence and lay back on the boat to look up at the stars. The two of you were lying with your hands on your stomachs, your elbows touching with the proximity in the small boat.

"What if they're not out there?" JJ whispered, barely audible.

"Then... we learn to keep going." You answered, turning your head to look at him. "Look, JJ, I was never as close to John B as you were, and I have no idea how you guys became friends with Sarah Cameron, but whether they're out or not, and whether they cane back, you'll always have them with you."

He turned to look at you too, tears shining in his eyes, and you reached a hand out to grab his and interlocked your fingers.

"I know it's cliché, but it's true." You smiled reassuringly. "They left you a piece of themselves to keep in your heart, and nothing can ever take that from you." He held onto your hand tightly, a single tear escaping his eye as he tensed his jaw to try and hold back any more.

"I really miss him, Y/N." He sniffled. "He was my brother, you know." You quickly moved to hug JJ, your body half on top of his as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and buried his face in your shoulder as he started to break down.

You maneuvered the two of you into a sitting position so that you could wrap your arms around him properly, cradling his head in your hand. He held onto you tightly, his tears soaking through your t-shirt and his body shaking with his sobs.

Minutes passed before JJ calmed down, and you held onto his shoulders as you broke away from the hug.

"You'll be alright. Okay?" You said softly, and he nodded. "I'll drive us back." You wiped away the tears on his face with your thumbs with a smile, before getting up to bring up the anchor.

JJ stayed where he was sat while you drove the boat back to John B's house. You docked the boat and went inside, the atmosphere heavy. He took a seat on the sofa while you flicked on the lights.

"Can I tell you something, Y/N?" He asked.

"Yeah, of course."

"I used to have the biggest crush on you when we were kids." The confession left you a little shocked, but you didn't show it, and JJ continued. "John B used to tease me about it all the time. When we were thirteen, after, like, four years of pining after you, he told me that I just needed to man up and tell you... but I never did, and then our friendship kind of just fell apart."

"Why are you telling me this now?" You questioned, and JJ let out a sigh before shrugging.

"I don't know. With John B missing and you suddenly back in my life... it just feels weird." He answered. "But I'm glad that you're here. I think I really need it."

"I think you do too." You chuckled. "Now, I'm gonna make us something to eat."

"Us?"

"What, you don't want me to stay?"

"No!" He defended himself loudly, making you laugh. "No, that's not it at all. I just wasn't expecting you to."

"Well, I have nowhere else to be." You smiled before disappearing into the kitchen.

You busied yourself in cooking, cutting up some chicken and vegetables and throwing them into a stir fry. You were completely absorbed in what you were doing, humming to yourself while you pushed the food around the pan with a wooden spatula, so when you felt a hand on your shoulder it made you jump.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." JJ apologised quickly, taking a small step back. "I said your name but you didn't hear me."

"Oh, really? Sorry." You chuckled. "What did you want?"

"Just... You weren't weirded out that I used to have a crush on you?" He asked tentatively.

"No, of course not." You shrugged turning back to the pan. "I'll admit it was a little surprising, but we were kids and we were super close. Jess used to tease me about that all the time."

"About us being close?"

"Yeah. I remember one time she totally freaked out because you called me pretty. Can you get a couple of plates out for me please?" You heard JJ open a cupboard and take out a couple of plates.

"For what it's worth," He said, setting the plates down on the counter beside you and taking out some cutlery. "I still think you're pretty."

"Aw, thanks JJ." You smiled. "You're not too bad yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He countered, feigning offense, and you laughed.

"Nothing. You're a good looking guy; not at all like the chubby cheeked little kid that I used to know."

You dished up your meals and you and JJ went back to the living room to eat. You kicked you legs up onto the sofa with your plate on your lap and tucked in. It was later in the evening than you would usually eat, so you were eager to get some food into your stomach. Even still, JJ practically vaccumed in the food and finished before you did. He took the plates back through to kitchen when you finished.

"You gonna head home any time soon?" He asked.

"I'm not in a rush." You shrugged. "I'll just be going back to an empty house." JJ hummed in acknowledgement. He lifted your legs up to sit on the couch beside you, putting them back down on his lap once he'd gotten himself situated. Maybe him being in such a vulnerable situation earlier had accelerated your connection, but it was like those two years that you didn't talk at all never even happened; you were just as close as ever, if not more somehow.

"You're gonna stick around, right?" He said, turning to look at you. You tilted your head slightly.

"Of course." You reassured, smiling. "I'm not gonna leave you now, of all times. Besides, I missed you and we were supposed to be trying the friendship thing again anyway."

"Yeah, the friendship thing." He muttered, downcatsing his gaze, and you frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"JJ, you can tell me." You took your legs off of his lap and crossed them under you, shuffling forwards towards JJ and lowering your head to try and catch his gaze.

"I..." He began but trailed off immediately. He let out a loud sigh, running a hand over his face and through his hair before taking a deep breath. "I know that I might just be saying this because I'm kinda fucked up in the head with my friends being lost at sea and all, but I think I still like you Y/N. As more than a friend." He rambled.

"JJ, we didn't speak to each other for two years." You replied, taken aback by what he was saying and trying to introduce some reason into the conversation.

"I know- I know that, Y/N, but... it doesn't feel like anything has changed for me." He explained, mirroring your body language and crossing his legs under himself to face you. "I get it, it's stupid, but I can't help that. I mean, I know that we were literally twelve years old but when we were friends before I think that there was something there. Maybe I'm biased because I liked you, but maybe..."

He looked at you, his eyes searching for any tell of what you were thinking, and there was a long pause while you thought.

"Even if there was something." You started slowly. "We were kids, JJ."

"We still are kids. We're sixteen." He argued. "When we were at the sheriff's station I felt something there, even though we hadn't spoken for two years. Tell me you didn't feel it too."

You looked away from him and took a deep breath. You would be lying if you said that you never had any feelings for JJ - he was probably the first real crush that you had - and it was probably your feelings for him that made you react so strongly when he would get himself into trouble. And you did think that being with JJ again felt much the same as it had done back then; plus, you hadn't been lying when you said that he'd grown up to be pretty handsome. Even still, he was going through an incredibly difficult time and you didn't think it would be a good idea to start any kind of relationship.

"Maybe... Maybe there might be something." You mumbled. "But right now really isn't the time to try it."

"Why not?"

"Because... well, you..." You struggled to articulate what you wanted to say.

"Y/N, I know it's a really messed up time, okay? Two of my best friends are lost at sea and I haven't spoken to the other two in weeks. I have lost all of the people closest to me and I feel completely alone, so maybe the fact that you're literally the only person that I have right now is making my feelings more extreme - I recognise that - but that doesn't mean that they're not real."

"JJ, I can't in good conscience agree to pursuing anything with you right now." You replied softly, shaking your head. It hurt you to have to say no.

"Don't you want to try?" He asked, voice a little weak as he looked into your eyes. "It doesn't need to be a huge commitment, we can just give it a try."

You looked over his face, the cogs turning in your mind as you thought through the situation. You really did want to give it a try, you were just worried that it might do JJ more harm than good. But the longer you ĺooked and him and the more you thought about the possibility, the more you wanted to pursue it.

"No promises, no big commitments... but I'll stick around." You smiled slightly, and you put a hand gently against JJ's cheek when he smiled back. "I just don't want you to get into something that's not good for you." He chuckled, taking your hand from his face and holding it in both of his.

"You've always been looking out for me." He mumbled, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. "Where would I be without you?"

"Somewhere messy I'm sure." You smiled.

"Definitely."

You sat in silence for a minute. You were watching JJ's face while he fiddled with your fingers. He let out puffs of air every once in a while like he had just remembered something funny, and it made you smile. You yawned, suddenly realising that you were actually really tired.

"Since I'd be going home to an empty house anyway," you began, breaking the short silence. "Would you be alright with me maybe staying here for the night?" JJ looked up from your hands with an amused smile.

"Of course." He answered happily. "I could use the company."

"Great."

He stood up from the sofa and gently pulled you up after him. Your hands remained connected as he walked you through to the same bedroom as earlier and flicked on the lights.

"This is where I've been crashing." He said, quickly scratching the back of his neck. "You can stay here with me if you want, or you can stay in the other bedroom if you'd rather do that." He became noticeably more tense at the mention of the other bedroom, and you just knew that it was because that was John B's room even though you'd never been there before.

"I'll stay here." You smiled, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. "Can I borrow a t-shirt?"

"Yeah, sure." He let go of your hand and crossed the room to a duffel bag in the corner. "There's stuff in all the drawers so I've kinda just been living out of this thing." He pulled out a t-shirt and handed it to you.

"Thank you." You smiled as you took it. JJ nodded awkwardly and shuffled past you out of the room, pulling the door shut after himself.

You quickly rid yourself of your school clothes and put on the t-shirt that JJ gave you - which was long and baggy on your body - before hopping onto the bed and covering your legs with the covers. He came back in not long later carrying two glasses of water.

"I figured you might want a drink at some point." He mumbled, setting the glass down on the bedside table. You gave a grateful smile and quiet thanks as he turned on the bedside lamp and then went to turn off the main light.

"We used to have sleepovers sometimes when we were kids." You mumbled as he walked around the bed and climbed in beside you. "Do you remember?"

"Yeah, of course I do." He smiled, lying down. "We used to stay up until midnight thinking that it was a big deal."

"It was back then. Midnight is really late when you're ten years old."

"I miss when little things like that could be so exciting." He sighed, staring up at the ceiling. You looked down at him thoughtfully, absentmindedly reaching out to brush a piece of hair out of his face.

"Well, anything can be exciting with the right company." You said softly. His eyes shifted to connect with yours and he smiled ever so slightly. "We have the whole weekend ahead of us, maybe we could do something fun. Go surfing, like old times, maybe?"

"That sounds nice." He murmured.

You shuffled down the bed to rest your head on the pillows and reached over to flick off the table lamp. You lay on your side facing JJ as he remained looking up at the ceiling. With the moonlight coming through the window you could just see the silhouette of his face and a slight shine where the light reflected off his eyes.

"What are you thinking about?" You whispered after a while.

"Lots of stuff."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Maybe tomorrow." He answered with a sigh, turning his head to look at you. "But thanks."

"No problem." You smiled. "We'll talk tomorrow." You shuffled towards JJ and curled into his chest as he wrapped an arm around you. You felt him press a very light kiss to the top of your head and it made you smile. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." He replied, holding you a little tighter, and you fell asleep in each other's arms. For the first time since John B and Sarah went missing, JJ had some comfort and you were happy to be the person to provide that for him.

#obx #outer banks #obx fanfiction #obx jj #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj x y/n #jj maybank x reader #jj mayback x reader

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fang-wolfsbane · 3 years

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Transformers Generation One: A Seeker's Triangle: Chapter 05: Adjustment

The drive back to the squishy being’s home had been strange. First Starlit Meadow had learned that Zett’s species were known as ‘humans’. Adjusting to driving on the pavement road wasn’t all that different from Cybertron, which in itself was a release, but after being forced to stay in her newly scanned alternative mode in what Zett called a ‘garage’ was beginning to get on her nervous system.

The first couple of nano cycles had been fine, but after awakening out of what she could only assume had originally been stasis lock, hunger had begun to gnaw at her. She didn’t know how long it had been since she had consumed energon and sitting in this human’s ‘garage’ was working her up more than she liked.

When she had first tried transforming back to her bipedal mode, he’d asked, no, begged, her not to, claiming that he didn’t want to risk her being found out. The thought of that was annoying enough, but she chose to take his word for that. She had to stay out from underneath the Autobots’ radar, at least until she could figure out what to do next.

Zett had a point in her staying in this ‘car’ mode that he’d called her current form. She didn’t have a reflective surface to overlook her said car mode, but from the Earth vehicle she had scanned, she could assume that her frame had followed its usual protocol to turn her into an exact copy of her scan, save for the colouring. No matter which form she took, her colour scheme always stayed the proud black and green she had known since the moment she’d first learned the name of her two colours.

Every morning Zett came into the garage, bid her farewell to attend the Earth version of an academy, then he’d return at night after attending to work on the site he’d found her at. She wasn’t sure if Zett was keeping her a secret from the Autobots like he had promised to do but considering that she still remained incognito in the small, cramped wooden room, she could only assume that he did. Even if the Autobots had won the war against the Decepticons, there was no chance that they would simply leave a stray Decepticon out in the open. They would have dealt with her, one way or another.

Each day that passed, the only indication of time passing being Zett’s visits, seemed to take longer and longer. At first she had planned to wait, to lay low to try and come up with a plan, but her tanks were churning, demanding to be filled. When she had requested Zett bring her some energon, he only looked at her like she had lost her processor. She hated that look. It was the same one Astrotrain had given her once when she had snapped at him to keep his servos to himself when he thought she’d give him what he wanted because she was the only Decepticon femme at base. He had backed off, only after she had to show what her arm blades were capable of.

She should have checked them, ensured that they were still locked firmly into her arm plating, but that would require transforming, something she didn’t have the energy for. Whilst waiting on Zett to return, babbling on and on about how his day was, she took stasis naps in an attempt to conserve what little energon she still had within her. she contemplated forcing herself back into stasis lock to try and conserve more but thought it to be useless. If she did that, she’d be nothing more than an average car, as Zett put it.

She didn’t tell Zett about her thoughts on conserving what she had, but when he told her that not everything moving on the road was an Autobot or Decepticon, questions had popped up one right after the other. She must have spent a good amount of time asking him about his planet, which Zett had decided to sum up for her through video files he called documentaries and homework.

Earth was strange. There was no doubt in her processor about that, but the way Zett spoke about it, Starlit Meadow couldn’t help but find it interesting. She missed Cybertron, just like any other Cybertronian that had possibly gone off planet at some point in their functional life, but there was no use in longing for a planet she had no hopes of returning to. If she ran out of energon, then she definitely didn’t have any hope.

Letting her processor wander, Starlit Meadow felt ashamed of herself for not noticing that Zett had returned, rolling up the metallic garage door as he did. Usually the wide door made enough noise for her to at least be aware of his presence, no longer detectable by the systems she had forced herself to shut down in an attempt to conserve what she had.

“Hey Star. How are you holding up?” Zett asked as he rolled the door back down behind him, a rusted maroon coloured barrel beside him. From the sound of it, there was something inside, possibly a fluid of some sort. It stunk.

Shifting her sideview mirror, she caught sight of the human. If it weren’t for the concerned look on his face, she would have laughed, if she could manage more than a dry chuckle. He must have noticed her eyeing the barrel with her mirror when she didn’t respond because the next moment he was pushing it over towards her, leaving behind a steel-curling screeching noise as he did. She would have scolded him for it, but only watched instead, her curiosity getting the better of her, especially after what he said next.

“I brought you a little something. A little pick-me-up if you will,” Zett said once he had the barrel right beside her. “I know its not exactly that energon stuff you need, but I figured that since you’re, well, a car-”

“Transformer,” she felt herself correcting before her CPU registered her words as they played through her radio. An interesting device, one that she had thought about using to try and contact her old teammates but absolved from in case the Autobots were monitoring radio frequencies.

“Right, sorry. Anyway, since you won’t let me ask someone for help, and said that your kind needs this ‘energon’ stuff to survive, I might have had an idea. You see, when the Autobots set up base here, the government let them have stuff like oil and that kind of thing, so maybe it’s the same thing? I don’t know exactly, but this is the best I could think of,” Zett rambled on, barely able to keep her attention as he scratched the back of his helm, no, head, he had told her when she had asked about the strange covering he called ‘hair’.

“Get to the point,” she said, groaning inwardly upon realisation that she might have used the energy she needed to talk where she could have been conserving it.

“Hn? O-Oh, of course. I, uh… do you remember when I found you almost a week ago?” he asked, taking her silence as confirmation. “Well, I found this old oil barrel and thought that maybe you could… you know, drink it?”

“Oil?” She would have arched an optic ridge at the strange word if she had been in her other form.

“Yeah. I know you said you’re not a car, but it is still something cars use to get around. I thought that maybe it could help, at least until we figure out a way to get you some energon.”

She went quiet once more, this time for longer as her thoughts ran through her processing unit. Finally when she spoke, her voice was a bit more strained than she would have liked.

“Why are you doing this?”

This time it was Zett’s turn to go quiet. At first she thought that she might have fallen into stasis lock and was merely imagining his presence before his hand touched her side window. Her mirror readjusted itself so that she could see his face a little clearer. Due to her lack of fuelling, her vision had resorted to its basic function, making her see everything in a dark red hue, and not the once bright colours everything had originally been when she first onlined on this planet.

“Because… you’re my friend,” Zett said, a small smile spreading across his lips as his hand moved over her red-tined window, brushing away a spec of dust that she’d previously ignored. “That and you looked like you needed help. Something tells me you’re the stubborn sort that even if I went to the Autobots and told them were you were, you’d be out of here before we make it around the corner and the only way I’d see you again is when you come to kick my ass for it.”

She didn’t bother confirming or denying his assumption, leaning more towards the former guess herself.

“Anyway, I know its not the energon you need, but maybe it could help. From the looks of it, no one’s going to claim it anymore either. It’s probably been abandoned for more than a year already.”

Letting a sigh reverberate through her systems, Starlit Meadow put the last of her reserve tanks into forcing herself to transform into her bipedal mode. Usually when a protoform went through their very first transformation, it tended to hurt, only because their joints and mechanisms weren’t used to the process. After at least a stellar cycle of practice, the pain faded, never to be felt again, except apparently on a near empty fuel tank.

When her doors had shifted into her arms and her back end of her car form returned to a pair of legs, Starlit Meadow hunched over in the garage, the wooden building feeling even smaller than before as her hunched back touched the ceiling. How humans could stand living in such small spaces, she didn’t care to know, even if it was big compared to them.

Looking over to the barrel, she wasn’t all that keen on tasting this thing Zett called oil, but considering her situation, it was either go to the Autobots and hope to be helped or swallow her pride with the oil and hope for the best. This time she chose the latter option.

As much as it pained her, Starlit Meadow was relieved to see that at the very least, she still had the blades on her arms, something she had ever since Megatron first found her. The relief she felt was comforting as she used the one on her right to slice the top off the barrel.

The liquid inside was thick, and black, not at all the bright pink she was used to seeing in cube form whenever rations were divided up amongst her former team. She tried ignoring the smell as best as she could, wishing she’d chosen to disable her ol factory sensors as well.

From the corner of her optics she knew Zett was watching her, anxiously awaiting her reaction. She hesitated then tossed back the thick liquid in a big gulp, nearly gagging at the taste. She nearly snapped at the human that he was trying to clog her fuel lines when her tanks grumbled with the need to consume more. Before she knew it, she had swallowed half of the barrel’s contents. It wasn’t energon, that much was certain, but it was still comforting, filling.

“How is it?” Zett asked, taking a step towards her, although judging by the smile on his face, he seemed to be pretty well informed that his decision might have just helped her after all.

“Horrible,” Starlit Meadow admitted, finding a smile on her own lips as she looked down at the human, watching his facial expression fade at the realisation. Before she knew what was happening, she found her servo reaching over towards him, taking a gentle hold of the shoulder that she could crush so easily with a simple flick of a digit. “But… edible, as you humans say.”

Zett’s smile returned to his lips, the moment a pair of words she thought she’d never ever say again crossed her lips.

“Thank you.”

#A Seeker's Triangle #Astrotrain #Autobots #Chapter #Cybertron #Decepticons #Fanfiction #Generation One #Megatron #OC #Original Character #Starlit Meadow #Transformers #Transformers Generation One #Transformers Generation One A Seeker's Triangle #Zett Oakwell

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tricktster · 5 years

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Sunset in Quipper’s new tank

Guys, while I’m on the subject, this fucking fish

This utter scoundrel of a baby boy

I was worried he was getting stressed out in the 2.5 gallon snail tank because, while Darkmantle is lazy not very active and would have been fine in there, it was way too small for the amount of sheer rage contained in Quipper. Bettas really need at least 5 gallons to thrive, which, of course, I know very well, but I, a jerk, had fallen in love with him at my local fish store and assumed that he could handle a few weeks in the little tank while I got his new home set up. My original plan was to get him set up in the 20 long when Taako and Lup moved into their new 40 gallon tank, but Quipper was doing repetitive behaviors, he wasn’t eating, and he didn’t have space to do the normal betta behavior of randomly darting around for no reason. That’s a solid recipe for a dead fish, and while everyone has fish die on them, I don’t let mine die of neglecting to give them an appropriate environment (she foreshadowed ironically.)

So. I go out, buy a 5.5 gallon Just For Quipper tank, and do what we in the biz call A Rush Job, which I would not advise you to do if you can avoid it. Generally you have to wait for around a month for your tank to cycle properly, but if you’re diligent with water changes and you use Seachem’s Stability to rapidly establish your bacteria colonies, you can safely put a fish in a new tank. I figured that it was the best play, rather than let Quipper get sick from another month of stress.

I took a day to set up the hardscape and plants, a day to do a few water changes to get rid of all the gunk that comes off dragonstone even when you prescrub it (and boy oh boy do I have a story associated with that process vis a vis throwing out that gunk in my bathroom garbage, where it was later discovered by a cleaning woman, who almost certainly thought it was human poop), and then I put the little boy in his new home two days ago.

I was traveling for work all day yesterday, and when I got home, I couldn’t find Quipper. Generally, not being able to find a fish is not concerning because I give them lots of hiding places, but after an hour or so passed and he hadn’t materialized, I launched an investigation. I was about ready to concede that he had.... somehow, squeezed through the 2 mm crack of the lid and jumped out (and then vanished?), when I finally found him. He was pressed between a rock and the right wall glass, and he was not moving at all. He looked dead.

I immediately started to excavate, already overwhelmed with guilt. See, during the first few days of a new tank, things settle into place. I figured that Quipper had found a little hole to explore, as he is wont to do, and then the hardscape settled, crushing him slowly between the rock and the glass. This meant, of course, that because I hadn’t waited for things to settle, because I had rushed him into the new tank, because I was negligent in assuming he’d be fine to chill for a few weeks in the old tank, that I was a murderer. Here I was, being all sanctimonious about not letting my fish die from neglect, and this was all my faulttttttttt.

When I got the rock out, he just flopped to the substrate, curled up like the proverbial dead fish. He was the shape of the letter C. His eyes were black and dull. He was just barely breathing through his gills. I was 95% certain his spine was broken, but I held out the tiniest sliver of hope, because he was in fact breathing, and sometimes stunned fish look a lot like dead fish. Two hours later, when the situation hadn’t changed, I had begun googling “how to euthanize betta humanely,” when he swam (pathetically, brokenly) to the surface and began gulping air.

Bettas have gills, but they can breathe surface air through a rudimentary lung-type structure called a labyrinth organ, which is one of the reasons you see them surviving (though not thriving) in tiny, unfiltered vases etc. The other reason, of course, is that they’re tremendously hardy fish. I was really hoping that Quipper was supernaturally hardy, even for a betta, so I gently helped him over to the top of the filter, where he could rest out of the current and only need to swim a centimeter or so up to the surface for air, and I crossed my fingers.

Two hours later, he hadn’t moved and I had to go to bed. I resigned myself to almost certainly wake up this morning to a dead fish. The night passed with fretful dreams of every fish I’ve ever known telling me that I was a failure, and when I woke up, I morosely went over to check on Quipper.

That little bastard boy was swimming around like nothing had happened.

His spine appears to have miraculously straightened, his appetite has returned, he even built a bubble nest. He seems altogether thrilled with the new environment, and right back to his old angry self. Those photos up there, where he’s posing like a show betta? I took those tonight. He’s watching me type and occasionally flaring at me right now, which, frankly, I deserve.

Sorry little buddy, hope the expensive new digs (and spectacular backlighting) make it up to you at least a little.

#betta splendens #bettablr #fishblr #quipper #tales of negligent fishkeeping

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sweetenby · 4 years

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Content warning: Animal neglect

Hi fishblr 👋 I don't have a fish blog so I'm not sure how many people this will reach who can help, but this is Roosevelt as you can tell he's missing his fins. Him and three other goldfish are technically mine but I've never cared for them before I just didn't know how and my dad was keeping them for me so I figured he knew what he was doing. Even if you don't know anything about fish you can very probably guess that is not true considering: no fins. To make a long story short my dad isn't cleaning the tank or doing water changes and I didn't realize that until now. I'm not blaming it all on him I should have been more responsible and done more research before getting fish but unfortunately 13 year old me didn't think about that. About two weeks ago I realized Roosevelt developed finrot again he actually did a year ago when I was at school so I hadn't noticed until I came back home and saw him in his current finless state. He's still getting around okay and can get food so I figured he's not good but at least okay. I noticed the tip of his tail turning white and I asked a petco employee what to do abt that, they pointed out some medicine and told me to set up a quarantine tank so I did that but I definitely need some advice on this whole situation.

Hes the only one in the tank who's fins have turned white but another one has fins that are kind of frayed looking but I didn't see that until after I moved Roosevelt into this tank. I know 10 gallons is way too small for a goldfish but I was told thats okay for a quarantine tank. I've been doing a lot of research into fin rot and keeping goldfish and the number one thing I want to do is get them a bigger tank, but I can't do that for awhile because I have no job about about 8 dollars in my bank account (my mom bought the small tank and filter and everything else I'm using now for me but she draws the line at spending money for a 55 gallon tank which is I think the minimum for three goldfish I'm not sure I saw some ppl saying bigger) so until then I'm really wondering the best things I can do. I saw conflicting stuff on the medication really helping fin rot and a lot more positive stuff for aquarium salt helping so I've put that in both tanks (I put the carbon filter back in the quarantine tank and waited two days for the medicine to be filtered out first bc I figured that'd be the best thing to do). I'm doing water changes in both tanks twice a week. I've been doing 25% water changes in the 20 gallon one with the two goldfish which I know isn't a lot but considering my dad hasn't changed the water in about three years I thought doing more than that might be too much for them right now. Since the 10 gallon tank I moved Roosevelt too is uncycled I've been doing 50% water changes twice a week. I got an ammonia test kit and unfortunately the levels are about 0.25-0.5 ppm right now I'm not sure what the ph of the water is. The tips of his fins look kind of black which some googling said was a sign of ammonia in the tank. So I know thats a lot of background but these are my questions

1. Is the amount of water changing I'm doing okay? Or should I do more? Less even?

2. Is it okay to have decorations in a quarantine tank? Bc I've heard conflicting things and right now its empty but I feel bad because he's already alone and I knew goldfish should be social but him having no decorations makes me afraid he'll get stressed and bored from the super open space. I was thinking I could put a clean terracotta pot in there as a cave or something from the other tank to give some cover

3. How can I lower the ammonia levels in the ten gallon tank? I took the filter from the 20 gallon one thats already been cycled (I tested the waters ammonia is at zero in that one) and kind of swished it around in the water bc someone said that can help. I'm doing those water changes and I aerated the tank when I was giving him medicine bc I watched a video where someone said medicating can take some of the oxygen out of the tank but I read that doing that can also help lower the ammonia levels. What else should I do?

4. If I can get his fin rot to clear up should I move him back into the 20 gallon with the other two fish or is it better to keep him in the 10 gal? Like I said I'm hoping to get a bigger tank but until then I feel like the 20 gal one will be so overcrowded. I also saw the other fish chasing him from time to time I never saw them attacking him but that could be a possibility I'm just not in my dads room more than to occasionally check on the fish so I haven't been able to observe them that much. Is he better off alone in a smaller tank for now?

If you read this far thank you if you could give me advice I'd really appreciate that so much. Please don't tell me I'm taking bad care of these fish I'm fully aware I have not cared for them correctly but I truly am just trying to do the best that I can for them now. If your advice involves buying something please still give it to me because I might be able to convince my mom to help me a little bit more.

#fishblr #goldfish #aquarium help #fin rot #please give advice if you can!

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slxyangel · 5 years

Text

Analogy (Izzy Stradlin’ x Reader)

Summary: So it’s completely up to you with how u end it n all.But my idea was an almost toxic relationship with Izzy like him and I are very on and off with each other yk,basically the only time we get along is when we’re high sort of thing. This was requested by @holyjunkie AGES ago, honey I’m so sorry (for everything, you’ll know). Despite all things, I hope you enjoy it, love.

Wordcount: 1.4k

Warnings: Swearing, drug use and abuse, toxic relationship and the slightest mention of sex.

A/N: I’m sorry it took me so long to post something, but I’m working on future fics now I swear you’ll be compensated. Also, it’s the first time I write a reader insert from the POV of the other character, I hope it went well. This has a little easter egg towards the end, let’s see if someone catches it :)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

Masterlist: https://slxyangel.tumblr.com/post/189625800403/masterlist

This needed to stop. This dynamic was gonna end up killing her, killing us. And to be frank, I wasn’t sure if what I scared me the most was the literal meaning of it, as in actually dying; or the rhetorical one, as in “the end of us”, of what we have. They might have been blurring into one same thing.

It was complicated, very complicated, especially the last few weeks. How do you put it in words when your unspoken other half is killing herself with drugs? More so, how do you do it when it was you who kept her in that position for so long you don’t even remember?

At first it was really fun, really smooth, really good… like a heroin high. Well, that’s precisely what it was, a heroin high. Even the day we met at one of Slash’s parties we were already smacked. I think we spent hours and hours just talking, I was so switched off I can’t recall it. All I know is that, the next day, she surprised my sober ass standing at my door with two needles and a small bag.

- I guessed you had teaspoons at home.

After that day, it became a cycle in which we were pretty comfortable. We saw each other often, and everytime we did, there were drugs involved. We had the type of conversations one has when high: long, profound talks about existence and its oddities from which, later on, you remember the feelings but not the words. Bottom line is, with each day that went by I liked her more and more.

The problem, yet the very essence of our relationship, started when I invited her to see me and the guys in one of our concerts instead of just staying home drug-buddying. I was scared that she wouldn’t come. But she did. And holy shit, she looked radiant in that dark dress. During the whole set, my fingers twitched just from looking at her, and thank God I was a guitarist and not a frontman, cause the boner would have been visible from the last row.

When I came up to her, except for a couple of beers, we were both pretty clean. Shortly after, though, I introduced her to my bandmates, except for Slash, who she already knew, and she became this bitchy little brat who only had snarky comments for everyone. She was a lot more mean than I remembered her, but as her bitterness spilled from her mouth, she teased me mercilessly. Her hands were persistently on my body in front of everyone. I had never, and I mean NEVER been handsy with a girl that wasn’t a groupie in public, it made me uncomfortable. But with her not only I didn’t mind it, I was enjoying.

The whole thing was messing me up so bad that I HAD TO get out of there, so I dragged her with me to the backstage:

- What the fuck are you doing?

- What? You don’t like it? - she said, sliding her hand down my torso.

- I…

But my dick spoke for me. I swear that little bastard has a life of its own. Long story short, we fucked. Our first time was in that changing room in the back of a den, and after that, it was a ride. We became addicted to each other, she was my speedball: heroin and her.

We felt the kind of deeply rooted connection that you can't explain with words because you don't really understand it either, it just happens. The problem was that its timeline mimicked our first weeks together. It worked something like this: when it was just the two of us we were mostly stoned, and when we were with other people, even though it wasn't as blatant as the first time, she was really petty, which led me to give her the silent treatment or something along those lines. That way we feeded the bomb that later, alone and sober, exploded. Then we would spend days without talking to each other and feeling miserable. Then she would cry and apologize. Then I would cry and apologize too. She usually apologized to the band as well, I think they must have taken a liking to her, cause they sometimes helped her get me back when I was being difficult. Then we would fuck and then we would get stoned and then… well, then back to the start. We were addicts in the highs and, oh God they were the highest. But as addicts, not even the lowest lows seemed like a good enough reason to quit.

That doesn't mean there aren't reasons to quit, though. About drugs, what did for me was the lockdown. It had been a while since I started feeling trapped in them, constraint. I didn’t like it anymore, it wasn’t fun, it wasn’t worth it. But then again, there was her. I had tried a lot of times to make her see that what we were doing was wrong, but she didn’t listen. She would just cling onto me or do anything in her power to distract me from the purpose. Honestly, a few times she almost convinced me that it was no big deal, but every time we fell into our original path I saw it more and more clearly: it was eventually going to kill us. Cause it does, it kills people all the time; at some point, your heart’s gonna pop or your mind’s gonna snap. I had to stop it, but I wasn’t gonna leave her stranded, she’d have to come out with me.

So there I was, driving to her house after she refused to pick up the phone and talk to me for the third time this morning, probably because she thought I was gonna start the hassling again. Well, she was right.

I rang the door and waited. I had a key she gave me like two months before, a few days after I gave her one of my own house, but I didn’t like to use it as much, it felt like invading her privacy. After a couple of moments there was no answer, so I rang again. Nothing. Now I rang and knocked the door several times, increasingly worried. Still nothing. After giving it a second thought, I took the key from my pocket and opened the door; it wasn’t locked, so she forcefully had to be at home.

The first thing I noticed was the darkness. All of the windows were closed, and the air was thick as if they hadn’t been open since forever. I called her. Twice. Three times. No answer. Ignoring the pounding in my chest and in my temples, I went upstairs. Something was terribly wrong. With a shaky hand, I opened the door to her room, where we had spent so many hours this last year, and when I turned on the light, I saw her.

She was on the bed, on top of the wrinkled sheets, wearing just her panties and a tank top. Her bones, peeking from below her skin, were more noticeable than the last time I had seen her. Her skin was as white as snow, with bluish lips and dark circles under her eyes. But, unlike the past few months, she didn’t look tired. Her lips weren’t contracted into a grimace of disenchantment; and as to her lids, instead of half-opened and revealing two weary eyes, they were closed, just closed; her expression was ultimately neutral. Her hair was sprawled all over the pillow, and her limbs, bent in an impossible way, framed her torso. But what striked me the most was the thin red line that crossed her forearm, all the way down to her hand; a stream of dried blood that started at the same point where a needle was hanging from.

Like an automaton, I walked to the bed and sat there, really carefully, as if I was trying not to wake her up. When I touched her with my own hand I had to pull it away immediately. She was cold. Very cold. And very still. I grabbed the blanket from the edge of the bed and placed it over her. She was still really cold. Slowly, without taking full consciousness of her, of me, of my surroundings, I put my head on her chest and laid there, looking at her doll-like face.

All I could hear was a hammer. It was all over the place and nowhere at all, I couldn’t place it anywhere. Was it her chest? Was it mine? Was it my head? Was it the clock in front of us? The sound swallowed me whole as I stayed there, unable to process, with my eyes open and a single tear sliding down my chin and to her body.

#Izzy Stradlin #izzy x reader #izzy imagine #izzy angst #izzy #izzy stradlin angst #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses #imagine #oneshot #one shot #angst #guns n roses imagine #izzy stradlin imagine #classic rock imagine #classic rock #izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin fanfiction #izzy stradlin fanfic

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queenkrissy11-fandomaccount · 5 years

Text

Skeletons in the Closet-Two

Biker!Neighbor!Steve Rogers x Wealthy!Good Girl!Reader High School Au

Warnings-Swearing, sandals, attempted kidnapping, kidnapping, cheating, smoking, drinking, alcoholics, drug addicts, bullying, illegitimate children, abuse, and violence

With all the money the Mitchel’s have, many assume their lives are as picture perfect as they seem. Behind the glamorous vacations, luxurious mansion, and success that everyone sees, their lives are far from it. The only heir to the fortune, their perfect daughter Y/N, faces the worst of it. Beneath her perfectly curled hair and her flawless grades, is a closet full of skeletons just waiting to get out.

Their next door neighbor, Steven Grant Rogers, is far from your typical boy next door. He wore a leather jacket rather than button ups, sweat shirts, and tees like the boys in the movies. He opted for a smirk rather than a sweet smile. And to top it all off he chose a motorcycle over whatever you’d picture a cute boy in. But then again, Steve Rogers wasn’t cute, he was irresistible.

Atleast to most girls. Y/N refuses to give into the boy that likes to cloud her thoughts. The last thing she needs is a biker added to the list of things to keep from the media. A lot is expected from the heiress, and at the top of the list, right under taking over the empire, is having the perfect image. A hot, dirty biker is the last thing her image needs. However, her needs differ greatly from those of her image. And compared to everything else she keeps hidden, the media wouldn’t give Steve a second thought.

Besides being private and attended by the offspring of the wealthy, your high school was much like any other. Maybe it was all a bit nicer, but it still had many of the same problems. Your gym and locker always had a smell, regardless of how recently it was all redone or how often it was clean. For example, yours had been redone again last year and is cleaned daily, but still smells like dirty socks and sweat. There are cliques, not quite as extreme as many movies show them to be, but everyone has a group. You have yours, which primarily consists of those that actually give a shit about earning the future set out before them. You were all 4.0 students with a company or brand just waiting for you to reach a certain age. And lastly, your school still had bullies. Your eyes flick to where the cheerleaders were sitting, specifically Jackie Erickson. She gets her kicks from tormenting you, primarily because there is nothing you could do about it. As if she could hear your thoughts, she shoots a glance your way, still hanging all over the jock in her lap. Trevor Andrews. He was on the football team and that's where your knowledge of him ended. He and Jackie had been inseparable for the last week or so, which meant his time is about up. She never keeps them around for long.

You look away, trying to avoid any of Jackie’s attention but in the process turn to meet another set of eyes. These ones are crystal blue and even more stunning up close. Steve Rogers had his own group. Everyone knew their names. Bucky Barnes is his best friend and never far when there’s trouble. Everyone knows Sam Wilson, he’s friendly with a smart mouth that either gets him out of trouble into it, figuring out which is like flipping a coin. A good portion of the school is afraid of Natasha Romanova. She’s known to be a bit ruthless and has been arrested more than a few times but her dad is a big shot lawyer that manages to get her out of the trouble she’s always in. She’s practically in Bucky’s lap which leads you to believe they’re dating again. They’re one of those couples that are in an endless cycle of on again and off again. You and Nat were best friends in elementary school but faded apart as you grew and became such different people. You’re ready to continue scanning their group when a voice is cleared next to you.

“You’re staring,” Wanda chuckles. Wanda has been by your side all through high school. Your fathers are business associates which means the two of you will still be working together as adults when you take over. Wanda’s situation was a bit different because she and her twin brother, Pietro, are both set to inherit Maximoff Incorporated.They would be partners in everything which is beyond frustration for Wanda. Her brother isn’t as driven or focused on their future. In fact, he was probably behind the school with his friends at the very moment smoking. He’s befriended a handful of potheads and they aren’t very good at hiding it, even at school. You didn’t have anything against them, more the fact that they’re throwing away everything they have. Half of this lifestyle is the image others see.

Yours, for example, is very put together. Your hair is always in soft curls, typically pinned back around your temples, and you keep a simple but shimmery makeup look. It was a bit of a hassle but your mother insisted on creating your own brand. She also makes sure your clothing sticks with it. Everything you own is neutral and soft. Colors primarily white, cream, light pink, and occasionally a light gray. You were allowed jeans as long as they were a light wash or a dark wash, no in between and definitely no holes.

“I need to run to my locker,” You stand quickly and smooth down your skirt, “See you at lunch?’ Wanda nods and you’re off. The day had barely started and you were already to be alone on your balcony underneath the stars.

You find your locker, quickly turning the combination. As you’re opening it, a hand above you presses it closed. You turn to find your body enclosed by Steve Roger’s. His black leather jacket back and hanging open to reveal his whit tee, sunglasses hanging from the neckline.

“Hey, doll,” He whispers, “I couldn’t find you after our little exchange Friday.”

“I left,” You say through your clenched teeth, trying not to think about how amazing he smells. Or how gorgeous he is this close.

His smirk grows, “You know I would have been more than happy to give you a ride.” You glare back but have to crane your neck a bit due to his height. “On my bike.”

“Maybe next time,” You bite out, pushing him back and reopening your locker to get your binder and a pen. This time when you turn around, Steve is gone.

“Having fun with biker boy, are we?” You hear Jackie’s voice and flinch a little. She steps in front of you, “How would that make daddy feel?” She pauses, expecting a response. She won’t get one. You stopped responding years ago, sick of giving her the satisfaction. She twirls a black strand of her hair, “Tell him hi for me.” With that she struts down the hallway and you roll your eyes at her antics.

Too long later, you’re finally home and out of that hellhole. Changing into some silk shorts and a matching tank, you put on your thin robe and step out onto your balcony with a book. You’d finished the homework for the week ahead of you and now had some you time. You have a lounger off to one side which has been your designated reading spot for years now.

In no time, you’ve dozed off, your book spread across your chest, until the sound of something hits the ground next to you. You’re instantly awake but manage to keep your eyes shut, slowly cracking them to see what was happening. Someone had just jumped over your balcony.

Tags-

@ncrediblelove

@meganlikesfandoms

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers au #Biker!Steve rogers x reader #skeletons in the closet #Skeletons in the closet two

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castellankurze · 5 years

Note

“We can never be together” kiss for ... idk, but make it hurt

“So hey,” he asked as he twiddled the stick between his fingers. “Can I ask you a question?”

The scanner unit crouched behind a tumble of broken rocks, just about forty meters away from a steel wall, into which was carved a doorway guarded by a pair of round-faced machines. Over the past half hour, one of them had practically become his very own belonging, thanks to his wireless hacking, but he was content to sit in the back of the thing’s mind the way he sat unseen behind the rocks, waiting for the right time.

“Does some facet of the operation need clarification?” the operator’s voice pinged back.

He laughed, rubbing at his mouth with his free hand to stifle the sound. He was fairly sure nothing was listening, but best not to tempt fate. “No, I’m clear on the mission. I meant about you.”

“Oh.” 23O’s voice became less clipped, less mechanical, when she was surprised. “Go ahead.”

“When I get a chance to swing by the Bunker again, could I buy you a drink?” he asked, pausing in his twirling of the stick to scratch at one cheek with his thumb. Good thing she couldn’t see him.

“We don’t have to pay for water rations, 7S,” she replied, confused.

“Of course not, I mean a drink,” the scanner unit replied, smoothing back hair that had become shaggy over the past month without maintenance. “I heard it’s an old human tradition to get intoxicated in the company of comrades after a successful mission.”

“Oh. You mean alcohol,” 23O caught on. He could practically see her glancing left and right, and sure enough when she next spoke her voice was quiet. “You can’t bring contraband like that back to the Bunker,” she whispered.

“Shh. Don’t use the c-word,” he replied, putting a finger to his lips in pantomime. “Just call it a sample for research.”

He heard her suppress a laugh. “Alright,” she said. “I’m in.”

“Data upload complete,” the feminine voice of Pod 137 interrupted. “Unit 7S backup has been successfully updated.”

“Alright, then we’re on,” he said, cracking the stick with his thumb. “Let the strike team know I’m moving in.”

“Roger!” 23O responded crisply.

YoRHa Unit Number 7 Type S rose from his crouch and started towards the armored door. One of the two guardians started to raise its gun arm, but with a swish of his forefinger the scanner directed its partner to bring its own weapon to bear and fire an energy blast into its compatriot’s torso. With another twirl of his finger, 7S had the hacked machine lift its weapon to its head and fire a second round.

Stepping past the superheated wrecks, 7S tapped a few digits at the keypad and slipped inside the base.

——————-

He could see the light before he opened his eyes. When he did so, he had to blink several times to try and reduce the harsh white glare.

“He’s awake. Let her know,” he heard a nearby voice say.

He grunted something incoherent and lifted a hand to grope at his face, searching for something that wasn’t there.

“Hold still, another voice said, and a shadow appeared in the light, reaching down towards him. A moment later and he felt a strip of cloth wrap around his head, covering his eyes. The nanotechnology in the blindfold came alive, reducing the blinding glare to manageable levels and transforming the muzzy shadow into the form of a YoRHa unit.

“Wwwwhere’m I?” he asked, slurring slightly.

“You’re in the medical bay on the Bunker,” the female unit replied. A text overlay identified her as 18H. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“W’was…heading in,” he replied, his mind feeling like mush. “Where’s team?”

The medical unit pressed her lips together.

“Team? Where’ss’a team?” he asked more urgently, attempting to sit up.

She put a hand to his chest and had him flat on his back again without much effort. “Don’t rise yet,” she said. “Your new body isn’t fully conditioned yet.”

“Wh…” he swallowed and licked his lips, rapidly flipping through programs and rushing a self-assessment. “What. Happened,” he asked with as much clarity as he could muster.

“The details are not clear, and likely never will be,” another voice answered him, this one strident and cold. 18H stepped back and jolted to attention as the imposing face of the Commander replaced her at the bedside.

“Ma’am,” 7S said automatically.

She briefly inclined her head in acknowledgement. “Shortly after you entered the enemy stronghold, our eyes in the sky registered a chain of explosions, set off by a black-box reaction,” she said. “Our best guess is that the base was some manner of trap intended to lure in one of our strike teams and destroy them. We believe that once inside, you either set off the explosives accidentally or else deliberately. Given your record, Unit 7S,” she continued, producing a pad across which she idly flicked a finger, “I could believe either one.”

“The team?” he asked again, ignoring the jab.

“No casualties. Not even a bruise,” the Commander replied. “Fortunately, we had a fresh backup for your memories and that of your pod. All in all you only lost about twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes. “How long since then?” he asked.

“A thirty-six hour cycle to produce and condition a fresh body. You’ve been here the whole time.” She finally looked up from the pad, spearing him with her analytical gaze. “I understand you’ve acquired something of a nickname in the past few months, 7S. ‘Lucky Sevens?’”

He tried to swallow, his throat dry. “Yes ma’am.”

“This is your third reset in eight weeks, Scanner,” she said. “Should I be concerned one of my units is getting a little too hot on the self-destruct trigger?”

“No ma’am!” he protested, feeling more and more like an insect having a pin slowly pushed through its abdomen. “I don’t- I mean, I’m not- It’s not by choice!”

She held him pinned for a long moment before returning her attention to the pad. “I concur with your self-assessment,” she said then. “What data we have of your…misadventures demonstrates no deliberate recklessness, merely…”

“Bad luck?” he asked flatly.

“I was going to say ‘the cost of war,’” she replied, lowering the pad. “I’m assigning you a week of downtime. You are not to leave the Bunker while you recuperate, is that clear?”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied, lowering his head. There was no longer a fringe of shaggy hair to obscure his face - that would have to grow out once more from the standard YoRHa hair length.

She was silent for a moment. “I don’t believe in such a thing as a bad-luck unit,” she finally said. “If I did believe you were undermining our war efforts, you would not be waking up today. Is that clear?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, laying back once more. She nodded and turned to leave. That was when he remembered what he’d been talking about during his backup, and before the Commander could leave the room he hastened to ask, “ma’am? 23O’s not in trouble either, is she?”

The Commander turned back to look at him, her blue-eyed gaze grim. “Operator Number Twenty Three requested a transfer off the Bunker to one of the research satellites twelve hours ago,” she replied in an icy tone. With that she departed the medical bay, leaving the stunned scanner to the attentions of the H units.

There were words spoken in the intervening time period between the personnel present, but 7S didn’t bother to register them, at least until a male voice said from close by, “here you go.”

He turned his head to see another scanner unit holding out a pad not unlike the one the Commander had carried. Reacting automatically, 7S reached out and took it. Even with the blindfold the confusion must have shown, because 14S snorted. “You really are out of it, huh.”

“Huh?” echoed 7S.

“You wanted your pad since you were gonna be laid up in here another day,” the other scanner said. “18H said it was okay.”

“Oh. Right,” 7S replied automatically. “Thanks.” Even as he spoke he was furiously bringing up his internal clock and comparing it to the Bunker’s own. The Commander had said he’d lost thirty-six hours while they’d setup a fresh copy for him, but the numbers showed that almost a full forty-eight hours had passed since his last backup.

The Commander had lied to him.

———–

He left his quarters dark, but for the dim halo of his workstation’s power indicator and the starlight from the window to the outside. Laying on his bunk, he used a physical jack to run a cord from the port built into his left forearm to his station, accessing the Bunker network without his wireless.

As soon as 18H had cleared him to leave the medbay, he’d retreated to his den, using the Commander’s enforced week of leave to hole up in private. Lucky - compared to the machine units down on Earth, the firewalls in the Bunker were like trying to stare directly into the sun compared to looking at the stars. He had to take every step as cautiously as he could, seconds and then minutes passing as he waiting for the right moment to advance his program into the medbay’s record logs.

There it was. He brought up the camera feed and whizzed through the hours following his self-destruction. It was a displacing thing, now matter how many times it happened, to watch a body without a soul be placed inside a tank, synthetic flesh and blood being crafted around a nanocarbon-steel endoskeleton to create a facsimile of you - one that, in time, would become you.

He reduced the playback to normal speed in time to see 18H help him from the amniotic tank, putting him into clothes and laying him in one of the nearby beds, for without her help he could never have so much as stood on his own. He watched them test his reflexes. He saw 14S show up to offer his well-wishes, his own request for a pad to help him pass the time.

And then there she was. YoRHa unit 23 type O. Tall and slim and statuesque, her face half-obscured by her veil. She strode into the room at a sedate pace to stand beside his bed.

“How do you feel?” he heard her ask in a quiet voice.

“Been better,” he heard the 7S on the bed reply. “Been worse, too.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” 23O replied, her voice soft and sweet.

“Sorry I didn’t bring the research sample,” the 7S of two days ago said. “Maybe next time, huh?” He saw her close her long-lashed eyes. The other 7S must have taken note of her posture as well, because he asked, “hey, you okay?”

He saw her reach out towards his forehead, brushing back hair that was too short to need brushing back. “No,” she said. “I’m sorry, but there won’t be a next time.”

Long pause. “What do you mean?” asked the 7S on the bed.

23O closed her eyes and shook her head. “When the system registered your black box offline…I lost control for a moment.”

“What happened?” he asked, and in the darkness of the bunkroom his lips mirrored the question of the past.

“I jumped up and shouted,” she said. There was silence as the pair of them languished, together contemplating the breach in protocol.

“I’m sure it won’t-” he started to reassure her.

She cut him off. “The Commander reprimanded me. Officially. It’s on my record.”

“That’s not fair-” the bygone 7S protested.

“It is fair. I didn’t follow the rules,” 23O overrode his emotional response. “And it made me realize I can’t hold this position any more.”

“What?” the present-tense 7S asked of his bunk ceiling, hearing the outraged question echoing from two days in the past.

“You…the battler units assigned to me…the cancelers in flight between us and the Earth…I’m too invested,” 23O said. “I’m reacting emotionally.” He saw her stroke 7S’s cheek with a gloved hand. “I put in for a transfer. I’m moving from the Bunker to one of the research stations. I’m sorry, Sevens,” he heard the cracking in her voice. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he heard his voice murmur in a weak attempt at reassurance. “You shouldn’t have to take a fall for this.”

“It’s not about what we should have. It’s about doing the right thing. For the future of humanity,” she said. As he watched, 7S saw her reach up to slip her veil off, saw her lean down to kiss the lips of the prone scanner, holding him for a long moment before she leaned back and replaced the garment. “Goodbye, Sevens,” she said then, her voice tight.

“…bye,” he heard himself murmur, stunned. And he watched as she walked from the room without another word, her stride fast and tense.

“18H,” he heard himself say, long after his visitor had departed. “Do me a favor?”

“What can I help with?” asked the medical unit, crossing over to him.

“When the night cycle takes over, can you set today’s memories to overwrite?” the 7S on the bed asked, his voice plaintive.

“Are you sure?” the H unit questioned.

“Uh huh.”

7S cut the feed and disengaged from the Bunker’s systems. Lying there in the darkness and staring up at the ceiling, there was nothing to distract him from the slight tingling as the blindfold’s nanotechnology kept the moisture in his eyes at a regulated level.

#Nier Automata #kurze writes #asked and answered #kiss pairings #Lucky Sevens #starcunning #this got way away from me

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