#sing wicked songs while walking to school

[anewbrainjughead]

they ask me what being an unhinged 10 year old closet case wicked fanatic felt like, and i say not everything feels like something else

[kiwanopie]

Laptop

boyfriend!kiyoomi part IV!

“So… Where’d you two meet?”

Sakusa sighs.

This was exactly the scenario he was trying to avoid. Sitting on the bed adjacent to his longtime teammate and trying to avert his eyes from the way he kicks his feet from under him like an overgrown school boy. His gleeful - prying eyes sear holes in the side of his head from where he’s got his nose pointed at his laptop monitor, and if his hunch should tell him anything; it’s that little Mr. GossipGirl won’t rest until he’s juiced him of all the mushy details.

But the problems not that he doesn’t like talking about you. It’s the opposite actually, he could start and never finish, it’s just…

It’s embarrassing to get all sweet and blushy in front of this honey-eyed fool or any of his teammates. He hates the vulnerability of it all. Fending off a smile and trying to minimize all of these very big, very honest feelings he has about you. And ever since meeting you he’s been very slowly but surely pushing himself away from his previous dispositions.

Aloof old Omi, safely reclusive - inside his little shell, has peeked his head out and fallen in love with the sun.

This guy’s gonna eat that shit up.

Sakusa grazes his finger along the touch pad, tapping it a few times before grumbling curtly. “Can you go to bed already?”

“Not without a bedtime story,” Atsumu chirps. “C’mon. Tell me all about ‘er! I know you want to.”

Sakusa sighs again as he taps in a few loud keys. White orange tinted light turning his skin a filtered fuchsia as the screen flickers. “What are you five? You’re a little too old to be swapping secrets like a grade schooler.”

“Is she a secret though?”

“She’s not.” And that’s a resolute answer if he’s ever heard one.

“Then why won’t you tell me about her?!”

“Because-“ Sakusa blows out an exasperated breath.

There’s a long moment he spends pointing his nose to the hotel ceiling to quietly deliberate. Longer the few seconds he spends clenching and unclenching his jaw as his eyes fall and his pupils twitch in careful thought. He opens his mouth - closes it again but his lips part on their own. Sakusa blows out a breath until his voice comes tumbling after it, and it pains him to know that his fight for composure was fruitless.

“If I tell you, will you shut up and go to bed?”

Atsumu crosses his fingers over his chest. “Hand to God.”

Sakusa stares at him for a while.

“We’ve been… dating for the past couple of years,” Three years and eighteen days of pure bliss. “She was one of my sister's students so we met through her.”

The uncut version is that Sakusa stormed his sister’s office before her lecture could fully clear to bitch about her saddling him with mom on his only days off. Had to have looked mad as a snake when he walked in there, face twisted up and everything.

And obviously a 6’4 Olympian isn’t what your average college student expects to run into during their four o’clock lecture, especially when he’s calling out to their professor like he’s got a loaded gun in his hand. But you were too busy filling in your last minute notes to care about him or whatever he was doing at the time.

Sakusa sees you but he doesn’t see you. He just knows you’re the only person in this room and there’s a wicked witch on the loose. “Have you seen Kyouka?”

You hum. “Sakusa-san?”

“Obviously.”

Your eyes are the first thing he notices when you raise your head. They’re doey and soft and disarming. You’ve got that kind of look to you that reminds him of a love song; one of those old school radio ones that you hear in the car on the way to work but it’s stuck in your head throughout the day and you can’t stop singing it under your breath.

“You look like someone shit in your laptop and closed it.” You say.

The tendons in his jaw stress as you point your extended arm toward the door. “She’s in Nabuya’s lecture down the hall but, I don’t think she’s gonna talk to you with your face all twisted up like that.”

Sakusa quietly nods before turning his heel for the door.

It took two whole months of silently pining and bringing his sister pickled daikon for lunch to finally get you to agree to go out with him, and since then he’s been living on cloud nine.

“Oh-Ho!,” Atsumu grins. “And did charmin’ ol Omi put the work on her? ‘That it?”

He didn’t anticipate how dry the air would be on your first date so he wound up with a nosebleed that geysered for like a solid five minutes. “Yeah…”

“A’right, a’right, So… How is it that I’m just hearin’ about her now? I mean, from that phone call-“

“Let’s not talk about the phone call.”

Atsumu titters. And he seems genuinely happy to see his friend all settled down and loving someone so earnestly. He knows how difficult relationships can be for a high maintenance guy like him, and it’s refreshing to see his edges softened a little. He kicks his feet until he’s pressed against the headboard adjacent to Sakusa, smiling at him from across the way as he cradles a pillow against his chest.

“You should know that you’re safe to talk about yer personal life with us, Omi. It’s not like we were gonna tease ya too much about it.”

Sakusa blows out a short breath through his nose. “I know that. It’s just-…”

The way Sakusa softens up is quite honestly enough to make him start to blush. “____’s really special to me. So, I guess it’s hard to bring her up without getting touchy about feedback.”

Atsumu throws his head back a little. “Well, it’s flatterin’ that you’re bein’ so honest about it with me.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

He snorts as he rests his head on the headboard with a quiet thump!

And then he furrows.

Atsumu leans in to get a better look at his monitor. “Why ya lookin’ up purses?”

Sakusa hurriedly shuts his laptop.

Physical therapy

[babiebom]

HAI!!! your writing is so good omg :3 can i request the sdv bachelorettes with a farmer (can be fem?? but gender neutral is cool too!) who’s secretly really into theater/musicals? like how would they react when they found out? :] tysm!!

A/N: I LOVE MUSICALS !!!!!!!! I wanna audition for the theater here where I live but also I would be too anxious and shit myself so it’s a no go. But I enjoyed being in choir in high school. Literally Starkid is my favorite thing right now. Also no problem!!

Tw: cursing? None really but fem!reader!!

Bc: at least 5 for each!!

Stardew Valley Masterlist

Penny

I think she likes musicals but only the romantic ones.

So like The Phantom of the Opera is one that she really loves.

When she finds out you love musicals it’s because you’re going to have a movie night and you have a dvd of one. (We’re going to say that the broadway people recorded one of the stages and released it idk)

And she’s like !!!!! Can we watch this one?

And you’re like “heheheh I mean sure…it’s a musical though!”

And she just reveals her own love for musicals

Leah

Her finding out is really you finding out and then her finding out you also like them

I don’t think she watches musicals at all she just listens to the songs

So when you find out it’s you walking into her cabin in the middle of her making something

And she’s in the middle of listening to Carnival de Barrio

And you’re like…….?

And it’s a whole “haha you weren’t supposed to find out about this” as if it’s a secret that should be taken to the grave

And you’re like “WHAT DO YOU MEAN? You weren’t supposed to find out about me loving musicals?”

And you two just stare at each other for a minute like DAMN that’s kinda stupid when you think about it huh?

It’s funny afterwards! I think she’d actually have to fall over laughing so hard.

Maru

I don’t think she cares for musicals at all

And probably knows what they are but she hasn’t seen one EVER

So her finding out isn’t really her finding out

It’s one of the songs playing while you two are hanging out and she’s like “oh this song sounds nice! What is it? I’d like to listen to it while tinkering with my robots.”

And you’re just like “heheh it’s from a musical…”

And she just shrugs and is like “okay what’s the song?”

Will watch the musical with you!

But like I think she only watches the musicals of the songs she likes

So she isn’t a super big musical fan at all but has probably watched Waitress with you or Dear Evan Hansen (sorry for spelling I’ve only heard like one song from this musical and don’t really remember the spelling).

Haley

Either she’s a big theater person or she thinks it’s cringe there’s no in between

So her reaction would be VASTLY different depending on which you believe she is.

Personally I think she’s on the thinks they’re cringe except for Mean Girls, Heathers, and Legally Blonde end of the spectrum.

I feel like when she finds out it’s a whole “Jesus Christ you scared me” and a “lmao are you listening to a musical?”

Would make fun of you a little, but only a little because she likes you and thinks you’re pretty.

Will sing defying gravity and popular because she’s Glinda. You have to be Elphaba(omg I’m a fake fan I forgot her name and called her Idina)

Those are the only songs she knows from Wicked and will not watch the musical until the movie comes out.

Emily

Probably LOVES musicals

But only the obscure ones that no one else knows that was on stage for a single day and was never done again.

I don’t know any musicals like that so you can imagine whichever one you want if you know any.

Probably songs at the top of her lungs while making clothes, it’s how she relaxes.

Will watch any musical with you because she is up for anything.

When she found out it probably was because a song played while you had a playlist on shuffle.

And it was a “oh I like this song!” Instead of her asking about musicals and your love for them.

It’s more natural than the others finding out because she doesn’t make a big deal of it at all.

She just silently accepts it because if I’m being honest I think there’s very little she hates.

Abigail

One hundred percent makes fun of you

Like no ands ifs or buts, she makes fun of you

I don’t think it’s in a malicious way though

Like never do I think she would genuinely make fun of anyone unless she actually dislikes them.

It would be a “HAHA YOU LIKE BEEBLEJUICE HAHAHAHA”

Yes she would say beeble instead of beetle.

Is very willing to watch and listen with you though

She’s the type of person that thinks that doing something with or for someone because they like the thing is a very good way to show love.

Like if you hate video games but will play them with her because she loves them makes her feel as if you love her more than doing anything else

So yes she will watch all the musicals you wants

I do think she prefers Starkid musicals because of the chaos.

Her favorites would be Firebringer and the one with the penises and vaginas that sing I forgot what it’s called.

[maryannecrimsworth]

Angst Pure Angst is my favorite genre besides Pure unfiltered Fluff

Wednesday x Reader

Singer!Reader and Wednesday has an established relationship but Wednesday got shipped to Nevermore, she tries to get out of Nevermore to return to Reader but the murders from the hyde intrigued her and kept busy so much that she neglects to send letters to Reader who keeps sending her letters every week just to keep in touch. For months have Reader hoped for Wednesday to send a response but alas it wasnt meant to be. They thought if they scheduled a concert at Jericho that they could spend time with Wednesday for atleast a month, oh just how wrong they were.. They arrived at Jericho, staying at a local hotel for the rest of your stay and the second thing they do after checking in is to visit Nevermore and ask around for Wednesday and lo and behold she avoids them like they were sunshine personified (you can choose Reader's personality) for 2 weeks and they were heartbroken. Now it's time for the concert, they sing several songs and interact with the crowd but for the last song, not knowing if Wednesday is in the crowd or not but they sang it anyway and you can go off from there (could be any heartbreaking songs but i suggest this)

Good luck! and i hope you have fun with this lil request of mine <3

Honestly...I LOVE YOU

Sequel: Version 1 / Version 2

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Singer! Gn! Reader

Warning: Angst? betray; heartbreak;

Only Silence(Without You)

You said that we would always be

Without you I feel lost at sea

“Hey, hello!” You leaned over the balcony, your feet shifting, slipping on the floor while your fingers rhythmically tapped the wood. “Can you help me a little bit?” The lobbyist was not in a good mood: you could tell by the way she shook her head and sighed before turning to you. 

Her face changed completely when she saw you.

“Y-Y/N.” She stammered. “H-Hi.”

“Hi.” You smiled — and the woman blushed even more. “Can you do me a favor?”

“O-of course!” She basically hugged the balcony, stepping closer to you. “What do you need? I can help you with anything!”

“So, I was hoping to stop by that said school…” You pretended to forget its name. “Evenmore? Something like that. I’ve been told it’s a terrifying place.” Your lips twisted in a scared, exaggerated expression. “Do you happen to know where that is?”

“I do! The Nevermore Academy is only a short walk from here. Unfortunately.” The woman mumbled as she started to look for something on the balcony. “I have a map but…Why would you even wish to know that place?” The map was already in her hands, but she kept it away from you purposely. “These outcasts are wicked. They almost destroyed the town last month. It’s dangerous.”

“Well, but what can I do?” You leaned back with a sigh, pulling your hair as you smirked. “I live for the thrill.”

“Well, but I won’t let you meet these freaks.”

I beg your pardon? You didn’t allow your smile to drop. 

“God forbid anything happens to Y/N L/N during your stay here in Jericho!” She curses teenagers then speaks about God. Yeah, makes perfect sense. “Please, stay away from them.”

“I can’t, unfortunately,” How she didn't notice your sarcasm was a mystery. “Many of them bought tickets to the show, so…” You tapped your fingers on the balcony one last time before stepping back. “Thanks for the help!” 

“But—”

“Have a good day!” You walked away. You left the hotel lounge with quick steps — you are going to find Nevermore, no matter how. 

You’re going to meet Wednesday Addams. You had to — you were here because of her, because of how your hands have been twisting and of how your chest has been aching since she left.

You’ve been sending her letters every single week since she left her home but you’ve got no reply — no note, no message, no riddle or threat, nothing. Then you heard about the mysterious murders in Jericho and you could feel your insides turning upside down. She was in danger — she was sent to Nevermore, taken away from you, to fit in, to belong somewhere, just like her parents did. You could understand that — not agree, but you understood. And she said she would write to you — and Wednesday’s words were like promises. At least you thought they were. You trusted her completely — you wrote to her all the time, your manager scolded you for that, but what else could you do? You love her — and she loves you too, in her own way.

You were sure of it until she entered Nevermore. 

Now, you knew nothing — and the ache, tightness in your chest made you walk faster to the outcast school. You were not supposed to go there by yourself — the teenagers would surround you like a pack of wolves — but you had to see her. You had to talk to her. You needed something — anything. 

Through the darkness you'd hide with me

Like the wind we'd be wild and free

There were so many girls and boys around you that you swore they had emerged from the ground.  It was impossible that the news had spread so fast — you had barely stepped through the gate and they were already surrounding you. Purple uniforms and colorful hairs everywhere — but nothing black. Not even a shadow of the phantasmagorical figure you were looking for. 

You chuckled at all the pleads and compliments — your smile made some teens gasp and scream, and you took your chance to move through the crowd. After taking dozens of photos with your stunning smile and autographing varied and indefinable objects, the crowd stepped back, amazed, contemplating your pictures and signatures and giving you time and space to wander through the school. It truly was a spooky and odd place, and it was no surprise why Morticia and Gomez loved it so much. No normie would endure studying in such an exquisite place — and you were sure Wednesday loved that place. There were references and homages of Edgar Allan Poe everywhere, and the statues and paintings made you hear her voice — made you remember all the nights Wednesday spent reading his tales and poems to you. 

Some parts of the building had been newly renovated — rebuilt after the huge riot at the school. The riot you had to learn about from the news, not from Wednesday. A crazy teacher, a murderer monster and a dead-pilgrim. As long as you were concerned, one of the kids from Nevermore was wrongly arrested, and Wednesday was the one who figured out who the real monsters was. Still, you discovered these things from the news and from a gossip blog ruled by a werewolf from Nevermore. That’s it.

You had to find Enid Sinclair — or then the boy who got mistakenly arrested. You were sure the she-wolf was somewhere between the crowd you had just escaped from, and you would not come back. No, you had to find that Thorpe boy. 

You said you'd follow me anywhere

After asking a few questions, you finally discovered where the artist was. He was popular at school, known for his living-drawings, and he should be in his dorm or in his shed. 

You went to his room, you knocked and you got no reply — then you went to the shed. A small building made of wood — a perfect place for hiding, or torturing someone. Wednesday would like it. 

You knocked and, this time, the door was open for you. 

“Hello.” You held out your hand for him, but he didn’t shake it. His fingers were soaked in paint, so were his clothes. “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.”

“I know who you are.” He said, a frown of confusion between his eyebrows. “I’m Xavier Thorpe. Why are you here?”

“I’m looking for someone and…I was wondering if you could help me.” You smiled. “Her name is Wednesday Addams. Do you have any idea where I can find her?”

His expression of confusion became one of anger. “If she didn't tell you, it’s because she doesn't want you to find her.”

“Do you know her?”

“Yes.”

“Funny.” You smirked. “I never imagined she'd be friends with someone like you.”

“Like me?”

“An elitist snob.” Your words made him step back, revealing some of the paints inside the shed. Among all the frames and canvas, there was a painting of a girl with her cello. Wednesday with her cello. The tightness in your chest grew harder. “Now, will you tell me where she is or not?”

The door of the shed was shut in your face. You could hear Xavier cursing on the other side of the wooden wall. 

Who was he to be painting Wednesday? Who was he to be protecting Wednesday?

Wednesday was the last person in the world who needed protection, and behavior like his would make her furious immediately. 

How could they even be friends?

You tried to shake your anger away and walked back to the quad of Nevermore. 

Before the turmoil of teenagers could reemerge around you, you hid in the corner of the hallway and took a deep breath. The tambour your heart had become an artillery of noises in your ears: your own breathing was too loud, and you would've sworn you could hear the blood rushing in your veins if not for a whisper.

A low, worried, gentle whisper. Unlike any you had ever heard before.

“Yeah, but I’m worried about her, Yoko.” You followed the voice with careful steps. “Tyler and Wednesday dated…They kissed. They had something, no matter how much she denies it.”

“But she isn't going to talk about it with you, is she?”

“I dunno…That’s why I’m so worried. She can’t pretend it didn’t happen. I mean, she shouldn't.”

“Do you think she was in love with him?”

You tripped. You tripped and your body hit the wall, revealing to everyone your position. Including to the two whispering girls.

Your mind could not bear the answer of this question, nor could your knees: your whole being was shaking by the idea that Wednesday would have betrayed you. No.

Wednesday Addams would never.

But she also said she would never leave you. 

A chill ran through your body as the outcasts surrounded you again — including Enid and Yoko. They were smiling, gasping, worshiping you, and all you could think about was Wednesday. 

Where was she?

Then you found her. A black shadow who stood in the middle of the purple: a blank, serious face among all the blushed and passionate expressions.

She wasn’t trying to meet you, she wasn’t trying to be near you, she was simply trying to walk down the corridor. The corridor that now is filled with your fans — and her.

Her gaze landed on you for less than a second: the dark orbs you have grown to love and cherish so much; the look that scared everyone else, but not you, it enamored you. And that same look now showed you — and made you feel — nothing but coldness. 

Completely coldness. 

But your eyes Tell me you won't be there

You left Nevermore as soon as possible. 

Now I'm running away, my dear

From myself and the truth I fear

One night. One night and you will leave the hotel with your band to set up in the town square. The stage and bleachers had already been built, and in less than 24 hours the green grass would be filled with young people, normies, and outcasts from all over the region. Hundreds, thousands of people, and there was still only one person you could think about — Wednesday.

You couldn’t forget her look. Her gaze. The way her eyes moved away from you, so coldly — like never before. Something’s changed, something’s happened, and now you know what. Who.

Tyler Galpin — the Hyde, happened. He was the reason behind your dozen unanswered letters; the reason behind her coldness; the reason behind the fire that crawled over your skin until you screamed at the top of your lungs. The pillow isn’t enough to muffle your shouts, your anger, your pain — you had to do something. 

You had to talk to her.

My heart is beating, I can't see clear

How I'm wishing that you were here

You were risking everything. You were risking your career, your band, your reputation, your life, because of her. For her. You were committing a crime, breaking into Nevermore surroundings after curfew, only to see her.

It was not the first you broke the law and any type of common sense for her, but this time was different. This time, it felt wrong.

“Wednesday.” You breathed her name after reaching the balcony of her room. The ledge was quickly climbed over by you, an insignificant climb to reach her — but you did not expect she would be there, on the other side.

As if she was waiting for you. As if your steps, now resounding briefly in the middle of the night, were the beginning of the end; the introduction of your last show; the last concert you both would listen to together. 

“Hi.” You stepped closer. She didn’t move. “I...I've been trying to talk to you.”

Not a word. Not a reaction. Not even a single blink.

Your posture then changed. Your gaze grew wider, firmer, and your shoulders stiffened as you stuck your hands in your pockets. “I've met some of your friends.” You smirked, but the twist on your lips wasn’t one Wednesday knew. This one held anger. “Xavier, Enid…And I've heard about this Tyler guy too.” The twist on your lips became larger: you were smiling. You smiled while trying to not scream again, your whole body burning and your throat itching for relief. For an answer. For a fucking reaction. “Is there anything you want to tell me, Nessie?” Your voice changed again, for a brief moment, it sounded normal, familiar, warm — it sounded sad. Hurt. But you only allowed your pain to show for this briefest moment. “If not, I'll leave. I will leave and you will have only silence from me.” Nothing. Nothing. She did nothing. “No letters, no crystal ball calls, no serenades. Only silence.”

Only silence. That’s what she was already giving you — that’s what she wanted since the very first moment she went to Jericho. Since she met Tyler. Since she forgot you.

You snorted. You snorted so loudly and scornfully that the sound of your laughter made her stomach churn. You were not the only one holding yourself back — you were not the only one trembling, scared, hurt. Wednesday felt frozen as you felt about to burst, she couldn’t move as you couldn’t stay still. You could not wait for her, wait for a reaction, wait for scraps of  her love — not anymore.

“Your wish is an order.” You turned away and climbed the ledge once again. Your head was shaking, so were your hands and so were your eyes; every part of you was shivering in an uncontrollable turmoil, your chest beating so loud that its sound made you dizzy, made you mind pulse with its hectic pace.

It made you feel a pain that you did not even know was possible — it made you suffer like never before, like you’ve never even imagined. It made you blind and dazed, it made you angry and sad, it made you heartbroken. 

And it also made you relieved. Relieved and frayed enough to not notice the look on her eyes. 

To not notice the tear falling down her cheek.

To not notice that she could not bear your silence. That she could not be without you.

I got to learn how to love without you

I got to carry my cross without you

“Ladies and gentlemen, weirdos and freaks, beloved and hatered!” You spoke on the mic, your throat faltering due to the effort, your face covered in sweat as the guitar weighed on your shoulders, your blood rushing through your veins even quicker because of the crowd's screams. Your concert was packed, a complete success — and about to end. “Today, we finish in a different way. Today, the last song is for someone I know.” The crowd screamed even louder. “For someone I loved. For someone that might even be here…” You smirked and took a deep breath, waiting for the crowd to calm down before speaking again. “This song is for you, Nessie.”

Stuck in the middle and I'm just about to

Figure it out without you

You sang your heart out:

And I'm done sitting home without you

Fuck, I'm going out without you

@tundra1029 (what an amazing request) Gif belongs to @thesoldiersminute

[dragonfirerogue-writes]

I’m you do Quinn but would you do Santana? If not you can also use this idea for Quinn:

(they’re both popular Cheerios maybe co-captains)

R and Quinn/Santana are on a date at breadsticks and some jocks from school slide next to each one and start to flirt w them.

They both smirk at each other and flirt back to get free food, then after the guys pay for their very large meals they see the karaoke stage just finished being set up and they get out the booth and tell the guys they’re gonna put on a show😏

They sing take a hint from victorious and kiss at the end.

The next day they walk the halls hand in hand as usual surprised people didn’t know about their relationship in the first place, so they used this opportunity to confirm the rumours that are being whispered around the halls as they go to their lockers and they start making out in front of their lockers while everyone is just shocked then Mercedes and Kurt come over and tell them to stop playing tonsil tennis which San/Q put their finger up like ‘hold on a minute’ and finish by pulling away saying an ‘I love you’ to each other before turning to their friends saying ‘hi’ before turning and opening their lockers which are right next to each other ✨

I'll do San for this one cuz she suits the request a bit more than Quinn does.

Santana x Reader

Ah Breadstix. Lima's to-go date spot. It was the best and quite possibly the only place with the proper dating atmosphere. It's where you find yourself right now, actually. Across from the most beautiful girl you've ever seen. Santana Lopez.

It started out as a fling. You and her would go out to sleep together and experiment as you do as teens. Then it became a friends with benefits situation. At least until Santana caught feelings, to your surprise. You had harbored feelings for her as well, but you were better at hiding it. You took what you could get for as long as you could. Apparently, it was for longer than you thought.

But here you are, feeding each other breadsticks when two of McKinley's beefy meatheads slide into your booth, trapping you in.

"Hey ladies."

"What's two pretty girlies like you doing at a place like this alone?"

Santana rolls her eyes while you facepalm. Resting your head on your hand, you look at the boys.

"We're not alone? We're here... Together." You point between you and Santana. This was always the double edge sword, being on a sapphic date. You could pretend to be just a couple of friends hanging out. But people also don't believe it when you're out together.

These guys just didn't have a clue.

"Nah. You're alone cuz you ain't got guys like us with ya." He flexes, almost knocking over your drink. "C'mon. We'll show you a good time."

When your gaze turns to Santana, a wicked grin is on her face. It takes a second, but you catch onto what she's thinking. It's time to play these boys. Suddenly, you're ordering steaks and salmon. Breadsticks and assorted sides pile onto the table and the boys are none the wiser as you keep flirting. When the bill arrives, both boys wince, but pay regardless. It was going to be worth it, right?

Now for the escape plan.

"Hey, how 'bout we sing something for you boys?" You mention. The Latina picks up the baton you passed.

"Yeah. Breadstix has a stage. And we're the best singers in school." You disagree, but you don't voice that. Santana gets in enough of a pissing match with Rachel and Mercedes as is.

The boys readily agree to be serenaded and let you slip out of the booth. After talking to the karaoke machine operator, you set up and the music begins.

Why am I always hit on

By the guys I never like?

I can always see 'em coming

From the left and from the right.

Everyone in the restaurant is rocking out along with the song. Even the jocks, not having a clue about the meaning of the song. It takes two thirds of the song for it to sink in and for them to realize that they weren't taking you two home.

At the end of the song, you're back on stage and belting out the last note. As soon as you stop, applause erupts from the other patrons and you and Santana share a kiss before racing out of the restaurant.

-----+++++-----

The next day, whispers in the school hall can be heard echoing. It seems to travel alongside you and Santana as you make your way to your lockers, hands locked together and swinging between your bodies.

"Wait, are they a thing?"

"I mean... That's hot."

"You owe me $20."

The whispers start to get annoying so Santana pushes you into the lockers and latches into your lips, trapping you in bliss. The whispers stop as your schoolmates stare. It goes on for long enough that they start to feel awkward and walk away.

To you and Santana though? You were in your own world. The space between you two was non-existent. The Latina had a knee dangerously close to where you desperately wanted it. Your hands held her head in place as your tongues swept over each other. Her hands kept your hips still as she presses closer. Then, like a knife, a familiar voice cuts through.

"Oh God. Please stop playing tonsil tennis." Kurt gripes from behind Santana. "We don't need to see that here." Mercedes chimes in next to him.

"Lord knows we see it enough during Glee Club..."

Santana just raises a hand, her index finger pointed up to tell them to 'hold on a damn minute.' A sigh escapes from both of them as they wait, Kurt tapping his foot with impatience.

When you finally part, you feel teeth pull at your lower lip and you let out a soft whimper. She presses her forehead against yours as you collect yourselves. Finally you don't have to hide it anymore.

"I love you."

"Love you too..."

With a deep breath, you two finally separate and greet your friends as if you weren't just macking on each other right in front of them. Just another normal to get used to.

[natjennie]

no you're absolutely right to question it and i was hoping someone would ask.

so this has to come with a disclaimer because i love the witcher a lot but as far as knowledge goes? i've seen the netflix show, the first season like 3 times and the second season only once, and i've read a good deal of fan fiction. that's it. so you'll have to work with the fact that that's all i've got for canon understanding on the witcher end of things. on the ofmd end of things? i'm. a lot more confident.

anyway! ed and stede are very similar characters when you get down to it. when you think about themes of abandonment and solitude and loneliness and longing and survival, they're extremely similar, so i'm not actually that opposed to flipping the roles. but, what matters to me is looking at where they start versus where they're going.

it's easy to look at geralt as a strong powerful monster hunter who's this famed hero that everyone loves and fears in equal measure: you'd want to slap ed on there.

but that's like. not really who he is. especially not before jaskier. geralt is a loner, he's done things differently his whole life, he's ridiculed and mocked and ostracized from civilization. he's not a powerful mythical figure, he's a weird wet horse guy who sleeps in the swamp. but we can call him to get the rats out of the inn sometimes.

and jaskier's background isn't really shown in the show but i know he went to a top school, he's brilliant and clever, he's a viscount. again, easy to paint stede in that role, right? i get it.

but he's bored and lonely and looking for inspiration and just so happens to come upon something different. something real. for once. so he drops everything and attaches himself to geralt's hip and drags himself through the mud and the muck, walking while geralt gets to ride, just to be a part of his story.

sound like someone we know?

and then there's the little things! the silly small character details that make them who they are.

stede's kind of a cunt! he's kind of selfish sometimes. he doesn't think highly enough of himself to believe people care about him, which gets them hurt in the process. hello?? geralt?

and ed's a poet! hes a theater kid, he sings, he writes lyrics. in canon. he wants to be able to slow down and appreciate life and live a little instead of being bound to duty and stede is just getting started.

and i hate this comparison bc they're both both in my opinion but. it's like stede:autism:geralt and ed:adhd:jaskier.

also! geralt is actually a wicked nice guy. like he cares so much about humanity and about other people and he wants them to be safe and happy and assumes that doesn't include him. he takes on missions no one would dare he doesn't hesitate to go back into the fire if it means saving someone else. very stedelike behavior if i do say so myself.

and jaskier is living on the edge he's got a name to spread an image to build a reputation to uphold. he's a scoundrel and a rapscallion and he's fucked and fucked over more people in this specific village than you could count.

and if you think about their experiences with violence! stede raised a sword against izzy. he doesn't resort to violence and he doesn't like it but he's not afraid of it anymore when it comes. he's ready and willing to look it in the eye to make things right and protect his crew. geralt.

and ed on the other hand hasn't killed anyone in decades. outsources the final blow. he deceives and tricks to get around it. jaskier.

stede adored plants and animals, he knows all about teas and moths and flowers. ed hates nature. geralt and jaskier.

geralt leaves jaskier on that mountain. jaskier gets depressed and writes a meltdown breakup song (burn butcher burn). i mean. in canon stede leaves ed on that dock and he gets depressed and writes a meltdown breakup song (life's a hard sad death).

i mean i could go on. but basically i think it's fine to do it the other way, i get it. i just think that's a really basic and uninspired reading of both shows. i think if you really dig into the core of the characters, it's much more interesting and pertinent to map stede as geralt and ed as jaskier.

[shivunin]

BREAKS DOWN YOUR DOOR

For Emma: 24 Elowen: 27 Salshira: 35 Arianwen: 42

:D

:D ALL my babies!! Thank you!

24 (Emma): How do they relax? Is that a solitary activity, a group activity, or both?

A couple ways! Emma likes gardening most. She really likes feeling connected to growing things, and seeing the progress of weeding and plants growing is very affirming for her. She tends to sing while she works, too, though she's not always actively cognizant of it (and Cullen leaves the windows open while she's in the garden so he can hear c:) If she needs to relax specifically post-battle, she prefers a long, hot soak in a bath either alone or with Cullen. Also, she'd never turn down a nice cup of tea and a book in the library, and after Adhlea has the coordination for it the two of them do crafts together.

27 (Elowen): What is their romance’s theme song?

Choosing only one song took the longest of all the questions lol (and also. the urge to just put one for each of them was almost overwhelming). So I chose two:

School Nights by Chappell Roan and Everything is Color by Juniper Vale

35 (Salshira): What is something they’re ashamed of but others find extremely cute?

When Salshira is really, actually laughing she snorts loudly. It's why she usually limits herself to like. A hearty chuckle. She was teased about it as a kid and she's always kind of monitored how hard she's actually laughing because of it, but the Inquisition is her first time she is every laughing so hard that she does it in public (during the Wicked Grace scene) and half the people at the table awwwwwed over it :)

42 (Arianwen): Let them vent for a second, without the fear of being judged. What would they like to say?

"I love animals. I love them. They never make stupid jokes in the middle of battle, or get into arguments while you walk, and they sure as fuck don't take the last of the cookies I bought in Denerim and hid in my tent.

But that nug?? That nug that I especially bought in Orzammar so Leliana would stop telling me about Andraste and baby the thing instead? Drives me to kill. If I have to listen to it squeak one more time as the background rhythm to yet another story around the campfire, I---I won't be responsible for what happens next! I just feel the itch in my hands, and Oghren is right there for stabbing and---"

(Inarticulate scream of rage, and then some rustling as she stomps off into the bushes)

Wholesome ask meme

[suckitsurveys]

How old were you when you learned how to drive? I was 15/16 but I didn’t get my license til I was 21.

Have you ever used a public payphone? Yeah.

Do you know what the most common bird is in your area? Either pigeons or sparrows or whatever they’re called.

How many teeth have you had extracted? Three wisdom teeth - I never grew the 4th.

What’s a Halloween movie that you enjoy? Basic ones like Hocus Pocus.

Would you ever walk a runway if given the opportunity? Nope.

Would you say you’re in a good place mentally? Nope!

What’s a popular candy that you do not like? Three Musketeers.

Do you bite your nails, cut them, or keep them long? I like to keep them a little long.

Do you ever have to babysit? Yeah, I hang with my nieces a lot.

Do you sing when alone? Sure.

Favorite pastel color? Purple.

Favorite thing cats do? Everything. I love kitties so much.

Butterflies, or dragonflies? Both.

Favorite kind of candy bar? Kit Kats or Snickers

Favorite childhood store? Claire’s.

Do you dream a lot? Do you remember your dreams? I do but I don’t always remember them.

Have you ever lucid dreamed? Uh huh.

Have you ever intentionally killed an animal for fun? What the literal fuck, no.

What character trait are you most ashamed of? I wish I wasn’t such a pushover and could stick up for myself better.

Do you prefer waffles or pancakes? Waffles.

Are you craving anything right now? I was craving cheese fries earlier and realized I haven’t had good ones in a while. The last few times I’ve ordered them they’ve been just fries with a cheese cup instead of the cheese poured over them. I need to find a place that does that near me.

Are you content just blending in with the crowd? Yeah for the most part.

Who is your celebrity crush? Michael Longfellow, John Mulaney, Aubrey Plaza, Pete Davidson, Alison Brie to name a couple.

If you had to choose a random color to dye your hair, what would you choose? I wanna do blue and black again.

Do you like the color orange? Depends on how it is used.

Have you ever shunned a family member or vice-versa? Nah.

Favorite shade of blue? It’s so hard to choose, I love shades of blue.

Favorite soup? Lobster bisque or potato leek.

Do you like mangoes? Yeah.

What do you want most? Guaranteed tickets to SNL.

How is your mental health? Fucking awful.

What are you thankful for currently? My husband and my friends and getting to be weird with them.

What’s an unpopular opinion you have politically? I mean, “unpopular” would depend on who you asked.

Name a song that’s fun to sing along to. There’s 100000000000000000000.

Who is tallest in your family? My dad.

Do you currently have a headache? I do kinda.

What’s the first thing you usually do when you get off work or school? Drive home?

If you could be famous for anything, what would you choose to be famous for? I don’t know.

Who is your favorite YouTuber? Bunny Meyer will always hold a special place in my heart.

Who is the nicest person you’ve ever met? My husband.

How about the meanest? My brother in law.

What was the last thing you spoke to your mom about? God, that was 11 years ago, and I still remember being mad at her that night, which sucks to have as my last memory of her.

When is the last time you felt appreciated for something you did? Today at work actually.

Are you the type of person who gets straight to the point? Depends on the situation.

Do you enjoy playing board games? Yes.

Are there any movies you are wanting to see? Saturday Night, Wicked, Moana 2 to name a couple.

Do you feel uncomfortable when people you hardly know confide in you? Would depend on what they are telling me.

What’s something you’re proud of yourself for? I don’t know, living?

Have you ever gone over 3 months without shaving/waxing your legs? Yeah, I rarely shave in the winter.

Have you ever swam in a saltwater pool? I don’t think so.

Do you think anyone has given up on you? Eh.

Have you ever been pregnant? I never had it confirmed but I think I was a while ago and lost it very early.

Have you taken anyone’s virginity? No.

Have you ever made your boy/girlfriend choose between you and someone else? No.

Do you remember when some of the Walmarts had a McDonald’s in them? Yeah.

What is one recipe that you would like to learn how to make? I’m sure there are tons.

Do you believe that Jesus will come back in your lifetime? Nope.

Were you afraid of heights as a child? Nah.

Have you ever had a lead role in a play? Nope.

Do you have a chandelier in your home? Nope.

Are you a Jeffree Star fan? Or no? Nope.

Do you own a guitar? Specify. Which brand of guitar do you own? Nope.

Are you a monogamous person? Or do you hate commitment? Monogamous.

Who was the last person who was rude to you? My nieces, but they’re kids so it wasn’t offended.

Have you ever met someone in person that you first met online? Yup. My husband, for one, and two of my best friends.

Who do you know who is dyslexic? Me.

Is weed legal in your state? Yup.

What is something that you used to be ashamed of, but now you’re not? I don’t know.

Have you ever held a newborn baby? Yup, my nieces. My older niece I held mere minutes after she was born. My younger one I held later that day.

Out of all your usernames for websites, which one is your favorite? Do you use it for more than one site? My usernames are all a variant of “suck it, nerds” lol.

Have you ever spent the whole day (or multiple days) just looking up one thing on the internet (e.g., videos of your favorite band, how-to videos, quizzes, etc.)? Sure.

Have you ever been in a situation where you had to be around your ex everyday? Nope, thank the lord.

Which condiment (ketchup, mustard, etc.) do you use the most of? Hmm. Not sure. Maybe mustard?

Would you ever flirt with somebody in front of your parents? Nah.

Have your parents ever questioned your virginity? I have no idea.

How many of your friends play World of Warcraft? Mark and Rachel do, I know that much.

Is there a certain song you like to headbang to? No I am a baby and that hurts my lil neck.

Is there a garage or carport attached to your house? Nope.

[emily-writes12]

Judging a Book by Its Cover (Eddie Muson X Fem! Reader)~ Chapter 1

AN: This will be a multi-chapter story on how you, the reader falls in love with Eddie Munson who seems to be judging you by your cover.

Warnings: Swearing

Summary- It's your senior year of high school in your new town of Hawkins. You have visited on multiple occasions finding the town quiet and peaceful so you're hoping the same for your final year of high school. What could go wrong till you find yourself entangled in a problematic relationship with the high school's freak Eddie Munson on the first day of school nonetheless.

Chapter 1 (1.3K Words)

You sing along to the tunes of your favorite Ozzy Osborne song ‘Black Sabbath’ on your way to the first day of your senior year at Hawkins High. The cassette tape blares through your little red beater Lincoln as you pull into the parking lot filled with kids chatting about their personal summer adventures. You had recently moved in with your aunt and uncle due to your parents going through a nasty divorce, although you didn’t mind, the few times you have visited Hawkins it was always so peaceful. 

You hop out of your car wearing your best first day of school outfit possible. A tight colourful, slightly cropped polo shirt clung to your chest with a white pair of high-wasted jeans accentuated your physique. Throwing your backpack over your shoulders and locking the car door. 

“Hey! That was some pretty metal music,” someone rings out. 

You look to see a group of three boys, all wearing what seemed to be club shirts reading ‘Hell Fire Club’. The one speaking to you had mid-length curly hair with a ridiculous hat on, a large toothy smile plastered on his face while his friends nod in agreement with his statement. 

You laugh, “why thank you.” 

“I have never seen you before, and in Hawkins, everyone knows everyone so you must be new,” he paused, “I’m Dustin and these are my friends Mike and Lucas.” 

“I’m Y/n, it's a pleasure to meet the three of you.” 

“So what grade are you in?” Mike questions 

“Oh I’m in my final year, I assume by the happy expressions you are all in your first year because no one is ever that happy for their first day of school,” you tease. 

“Well we are a couple of nerds,” Lucas pipes up. 

“So what’s with the club shirts?” 

“Oh! Well over the summer we met this wicked dude and joined his club, he’s in his senior year too. The club is a D&D club so it’s really fun having more people play along. Mike, Lucas, and I all play together with our friend Will so it’s cool now having a club for it.” 

“I’ve never played but I always wanted to!” 

The three boys say all in synchronicity, “you should come sit with us at lunch!” 

You laugh and agree. The boys head off in a separate direction while you head to your first-period chemistry class. Walking into the loud bustling classroom you find an empty seat in the back. Sitting down you notice your classmate sitting beside you. Long shaggy brown hair he messes with his hands, a jean jacket draped over his shirt concealing whatever fashion statement he was making, and the iconic ripped baggy jeans. You can tell he is definitely a metal fan. He looks at you, eyeing you up and down with an unimpressed look. You flash him a smile and he looks away. 

“Quiet everyone,” the teacher rings out, everyone finding their seats, “Welcome to senior year chemistry, the person you are sitting beside will be your lab partner for the rest of the semester so enjoy. Also no complaints, you chose where you got to sit.” 

You hear a loud groan come from the right of you, the metalhead boy holding his head in his hands. The two of you were lab partners and he did not seem impressed. You were really starting to think senior year was not going to be as good as you hoped. Despite the rude noises coming from your newfound chemistry partner you try to introduce yourself just before the end of class. Throwing a piece of paper onto his desk to get his attention from doodling on the sides of his notebook. 

He looks at you annoyed, “what?” 

“I’m-,” he cuts you off. 

“Look, let's skip the kind gestures. You’re some preppy bitch okay? I don’t need the new captain of the cheerleading squad to try to be nice, save the formalities and kindness for your own kind. Just be a decent chemistry partner and keep your mouth shut”

The bell rings and the metalhead sprints out of class. You stand up collecting not only your things but your words. You had never been so speechless in your life, although he was right about you looking like the new cheerleading captain. Your days goes on and the best period finally comes around, lunch. Walking into the cafeteria scanning the room for the kind boys you met earlier, finding them sitting with a group all wearing the same shirts. You walk over to them and sit down beside them. 

“Hey you actually sat with us, honestly thought you would have found better friends by now,” Lucas chirps. 

“What!? No, we are the coolest kids in all of Hawkins High,” Dustin exclaims. 

Mike shakes his head while you laugh. 

“The other boys will be here soon, they just went out for a smoke,” Mike says. 

“Just wait till you meet Eddie, he is so unbelievably cool,” Dustin rings out in an admirable tone. 

You smile and nod while the three boys go on about how cool Eddie was. Whoever this Eddie guy was you were sure excited to meet him. With all the boy's praise, he seemed like such a kind teddy bear who just looks out for nerds. Hell, you were even quite the nerd. 

“What are you doing at our table,” an angered familiar voice says. 

You look up, it’s your chemistry partner. Fuck. That was not what you were expecting, maybe you met a whole different Eddie than the three boys were talking about. 

“Hey, Hey chill Eddie, this is Y/n,” Dustin says. 

“She’s an annoying preppy bitch, why the hell did you invite her,” he yells at the three boys. 

You stand up, “And you’re a metal-loving asshole. Leave the three of them alone. Also for your information I am not, I may dress a certain way but I sure as hell am not my clothing. I listen to heavy metal as well, hate the whole high school culture, and would totally play a story-driven game I have so heard about from these three how you’re the best dungeon master they know.” 

He scoffs at you, ‘I doubt all of that. I’m sure you can’t even name one Ozzy Osborne album.” 

“His 1982 ‘Speak of the Devil’ album released on November 27th containing 12 songs the longest one being a little over 8 minutes called ‘War Pigs’,” You spat out at him, “Now how is that for your ever so loving approval, would you like me to explain anything else asshole?” 

You push your chair back, walking right up in front of his dumbfounded face. Staring him down in his eyes as you huff out an angered breath.

“You better apologize for calling me a preppy bitch or I will sack you right here and now”

A few groups in the cafeteria watching intently at the dispute between the two of you. The group of males around the two of you laughing at how speechless Eddie was, making fun of how he let a short, preppy-looking girl get the best of him. Eddie’s face a light shade of pink, embarrassed by his actions of judging a book by its cover and feeling guilty as he did to you what everyone does to him. He looks down at his feet and sighs. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. 

“Better be, now can I sit at your precious little table.” 

Eddie nods, raising his gaze back up to your eyes. 

“Well too bad, I don’t want to with your sour attitude.” 

Walking past him bumping shoulders, storming off in a fit of rage. Senior year at Hawkins was definitely going to be more interesting than you thought. 

[gay-salt-amber]

Good morning from where I am! I have a request and 3 headcanon to give you:

As a thanks for your headcanons I have a headcanon to gift you (and 3 coupons for fanart/headcanons/writing prompts of your choosing),

Every Next Gen.'s bedroom has colors everywhere. Even the ones who might fall in a gothic/emo phase. All thanks to the parents pride flags and their own as well as their parents' dorms and their's. In the poly house holds it's chaos with colors since it'd be even MORE colors of LGBT and dorms pride.

Second headcanon would be they all love the song Villain by PattyCake Productions and I can see if either A) NRC becomes Co-Ed, or B) They do a girls school and a boys school mix up one day they'd sing this song or a song inspired by it during the VDC performances, Vil honestly crying when seeing his kids performing their all with their friends

Third headcanon is when they're a bit older (like 10 or 13 depending on when they were born/adopted) the parents would show them their overblots through pictures by MC (which they were mildly annoyed they had pictures of), and they were nervous hardcore when it came to this until-

"Whoa! Dad, You look so cool!"

"Snake hair?? Wicked!"

"But look at my dad, he has coral growing on him and he looks so pretty!"

"If we're talking pretty look at my daddy!"

They all sighed somewhat relieved when their kids began going all fan gushing over them. Riddle even took some pride when Leona's kid said he looked like a bad ass from a horror game. ^^

And request; I've been listening to Heartbreak Honeymoon by Mad Tsai so here's the prompt. . . One of them gets their heart broken, wither it's a break up or rejection or a friend asking a crush out depending, what would the families and the friend gang's reaction be to comforting / knowing this?

This one got me thinking! I really like the 3rd headcanon it has a lot of potential for a comic like thing or a fanfic, they'd both work very well! But they are all fantastic u-u Anyway onto your request

Jamil x Kalim

This was the only time Jamil has seen Kalim actually pissed. Like "I am gonna commit a murder" pissed and Kalim was more pissed then Jamil which just hammered that point home

When their kid first told them about the break up/rejection Kalim did one of those laughs you do when your mad at something, he tried to understand both sides but turns out the other person was shitty sooo yeah that persons gonna be shitting enough bricks to build a city when Jamikali is done with them

I swear Kalim will be going off on the partner, Jamil would let out a sigh and go, "Lets just go get lunch, he's gonna be at this for a while." Then they leave and when they come back Kalim has this guy backed into a corner

Lots of pampering afterwards

The asshole prolly also has to deal with Najma wanting to kick their ass (Not any of Kalim's family tho I feel like they cut ties with them for the most part)

They don't have any personal experience with break-ups tho, Kalim did get a lot of love confessions over the years but hes always just said, "Y'know, that's sweet but... Jamil is... Jamil." And Jamil just never had interest in anyone else

They try their best tho :D

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

Ruggie x Leona

So y'know how midwestern-ers do that knee slap when they're about to leave a place?

Leona does that, stands up and goes, "Ruggie! Be prepared to bail me out of jail!" then walks out the door with Ruggie trying to catch up

Not to stop him, no no! That'd be idiotic! No, Ruggie is gonna join him

Ruggie actually has some experience helping with breakups since he had to help some people with that back in the slums cuz they thought he was their therapist at that point

Leona on the other hand doesn't, he gives his kid(s) an awkward pat on the back says, "Don't worry your partner was an asshole" and goes on his way. Not because he doesn't care cuz he does! He just doesn't have any god damn way knowledge on how to show it

Since Leoruggie adopted multiple kids (like 3) the kids siblings are also there to comfort and fight the person who DARED to hurt their sibling

Leona will also buy a bunch of ice cream in his kids favorite flavor and leave a note on the container like, "Here's some comfort food-Leona p.s. Ruggie, if you want any of the ice-cream, there's another container behind it for you, this ones for *kid name*."

Overall I would say they know what they're doing :D

----------

Vil x Rook

Rook will prolly see the kid crying, get a bottle of wine with 3 wine glasses and go, "I know you're underage but, if you round *age* it could be equal to *drinking age* so you'll be fine, we're turning on bad romance movies and relaxing, mon bel enfant."

They go have a spa day the next day. Hair, nails, facials, the whole nine yards

Vil's idea of getting back at an ex is being so beautiful that they'll be blinded away and regret that they'll NEVER get you back

Somehow word gets out to uncle Epel and he is NOT happy about it and goes to do some ass kicking

I feel like they'd be the type of parents with the partners number also in their phone incase anything happened and after the break-up Vil straight up blocks them but Rook keeps the number, changes the nickname to "trou du cul 😊" and pesters them every now and then

Vil calls up the model agency he works at and asks if they can have the kid do some photos with their kids new partner (lets just assume they get another one) and put them all over just so the ex can see them

I'd be careful if I were you if you'd even think of breaking Rookvil's kids heart cuz Rook is a very good hunter and Vil has popularity to cancel you everywhere and also h e e l s

------

Riddle x Floyd x Cater

We all know how Floyd can have a lot of mood swings so uh, good luck to that partner

Riddle had to really consider what to say since the one time this conversation happened with his mother she just turned away and said, "I told you so" But Riddle knew that wasn't right

Cater helps him... Then goes to help Floyd murder that ex

Riddle actually stays behind from this murder party and helps comfort them, rubbing the kids back while they cry, telling them its ok, putting on movies, etc.

Cater and Floyd come back with Chinese food and ice cream

Cater cancels the ex on Magicam

Floyd takes them to karaoke at the lounge (They opened up a non NRC location after college) to let their kid sing out their feelings, its a nice bonding experience

A lot of Fallout Boy is sung that night

I feel like the kid would hide in their room for like half a day and Riddle would drag you out saying, "Kid, I love you and I am not letting you live in your room for the week. We're doing self care today."

Cater will buy a shirt that says, "Bad Bitch" on it

Riddle would just be standing there, head in hands and not being sure if he should scold Cater or laugh

I feel like they would have a little trail and error but at the end of the day they're all doing their best :D

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

They're not much, just lil snippets but I like them anyway :D I hope you do too!-Amber

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Good Girl, Bad Boy (Pt. 06 of 15)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 2.4 K

Summary: You're the extreme opposite of Billy Hargrove. The good girl, with perfect grades, the child every mother wants to have. And you don't want to have nothing to do with his kind. Ignoring Billy – and his constant, lingering stare – became an habit. But after you're put together for a special school program, you'll have no choice but to get along with him. And soon enough you'll find out that Billy is so much more than just Hawkins' bad boy.

<-Previous part (05)

Next part (07)->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

×

Change Of Heart

“C'mon, Nancy. Watch the game with me.” Walking against the crowd, you try to convince Nancy to stay. Billy has a basketball game today, and you'll have to wait anyway since he's driving you home, so you decided to watch. And why not having Nancy join you? “You don't have anything to do.”

Rolling her eyes, she finally nods. “Fine, (Y/N).”

Smiling, you run to the court, making your way to the middle of the bleachers. “We have to pick different teams.”

“You'll cheer for Billy, that's pretty obvious.”

“Well, I–” You're cut short by a whistle, and a few seconds later the boys come out of the locker room.

You didn't want to look for too long, just enough for him to know you're here. But something quickly gets your attention. “Oh, boy,” Nancy mutters, elbowing you. “Don't even try to convince me you didn't notice.”

Of course you noticed. How could you not notice he's shirtless. “Shut up, Nancy.” You manage to say, eyes still set on Billy. Once he finds you in the bleachers, he squints his eyes a little, a smirk coming to his lips.

“Alright...” She mumbles, and you finally manage to look away.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” She sing-songs, laughing a little. “I'm just really excited for the day when you'll call me to talk about whatever is going on between you and Billy Hargrove.”

You nervously giggle, feeling heat spreading through your cheeks. Thankfully, the game starts so you have something else to pay attention to. “You know what's going on. We're studying.”

“You're studying.” She puts some emphasis on the ‘s’, making you roll your eyes. “Then explain me the heart eyes.”

“What heart eyes?”

“The heart eyes Billy makes at you. Like, all the time.”

Taking a deep breath, you lightly shake your head. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I'll be here when you're ready.”

“Shit, Nancy.” You burst out, eyes set on Billy. He looks at you every now and then, that smug smirk never leaving his face. You really wish you could pick on him after if all his staring was causing him to suck at the game. But Billy is amazing, and he's nailing it, making it look easy. The man doesn't even try, the jerk. “Things are... Complicated.”

“We have time. Spill it out.”

Running a hand through your hair, you sigh. “Billy... Billy said something about wanting to change. And he said he was trying because he found a girl–”

“And the girl is you.” She cuts you off, a hand on your knee, shaking it until you look at her. “Explain it, (Y/N). You've been a mystery since you and Billy started that program. Tell me what's going on because I know something is going on.”

“One day we were talking about relationships. And I told him I do believe he can change if he meets the right girl... And some time after he told me he found that girl and yes, it's me.” You lower your voice, making a pause just to see Billy making an amazing dunk. You can't help but yell, getting a smirk and a wink from him. He's absolutely amazing. “And I... I told him we're completely different but... That we could see how things play out.”

“So help me out here.” She mutters, looking at something behind you. When you give a quick look over your shoulder, you see Stacy and two of her friends coming to the bleachers. “You gave Billy Hargrove a chance.”

“No, I just... I just said we could see what happens. I mean...”

“(Y/N), be honest with me.” Nancy gets your attention again, and you forget the game for a while, turning your body towards her. You've been avoiding talking to her because you didn't want to think about it too much. But now you know you need to. “You're acting like it's nothing but I know you. I know there's something.”

“Nan, I'm really–”

“Hey, (Y/N),” Stacy says, right before settling down next to you.

Raising an eyebrow and exchanging a glance with Nancy, you look at her. “Hi. May I help you with something?”

“Oh, always so good, (Y/N).” She giggles. “But actually yes, you can help me. Stop monopolizing Billy.” Stacy finally looks at you, and she's mad. Angry even. “Ever since he was shoved into this stupid program and paired up with you, he hasn't had time for anything else. No parties, nothing. Not even on weekends.”

Taking a deep breath, you roll your eyes. “Billy can have time off whenever he wants. It's not my fault he doesn't want to go out with you anymore.”

“Honey, Billy goes from a girl to another, but he always comes back to me.” She puts a wicked, mean smirk on. “Because he knows I'm a hell of a good–”

“Shut up, Stacy.” Nancy cuts her off, raising her voice. “If the guy doesn't want to hang out with you anymore, just suck it up.” Your eyes go wide at Nancy's choice of words. She's changed a lot from last year, and now she stands up for herself a lot more, and for you too. “You said it yourself. He goes from one to another, so maybe your time is over.”

“And do you really think he'll pick her over me?” Stacy laughs, a finger on your face, and her two friends laugh as well. They both had Billy, you know it. “Tiny little thing, small tits, the perfect good girl who never lies, never disobey her mommy and daddy. Always have the perfect grades.” Nancy stands up and you do the same, being followed by Stacy and her stupid friends. “You think you're better than us because you never wear anything short, never show too much cleavage, never exposes yourself.”

“I never said–”

“You're a freaking prude.” She pushes your shoulder, taking her hand away as if you were dirty. “A stupid, little puritan who had the audacity of thinking you could hook up a man like Billy.”

Some guys from the team hear it, you can tell by how they hang around longer, eyes on you and the others. Nobody ever spoke to you like that, and you feel... Like your sinking. Cheeks burning and tears starting to pool in your eyes. But you're not stupid. You're not the type of girl who listens to this shit and lowers your head. “If I'm a prude, then you're a slut.” You burst out, crossing your arms. “Sleeping with a different guy every day and acting like you're all that when you're just a stupid–”

“Cow,” Nancy whispers in your ear.

“–cow.” You quickly add, shrugging your shoulders. “But I don't put my nose on your business so don't you put yours on mine.”

“You little bitch.” Stacy pushes you again, a lot harder this time, and you lose your balance, falling two steps down. Your leg gets stuck, and as you finally stop, you feel a sting on your knee. “Oh, I'm so sorry.” You hear her high-pitched voice, full of irony.

“(Y/N)!” Nancy is quick to reach you, helping you get up. “Are you alright?”

The game stopped, and you see through the corner of your eyes as the guys come closer. “I'm fine.” Your knee hurts, but still, you climb the two steps that separate you from Stacy, ignoring the pain on your leg and using all the anger you can gather to help you move, just to slap her right across the face. The hit is so strong it echoes through the gym and your palm burns. “You won't do that again.” You yell, only then letting Nancy pull you down, limping a little.

“(Y/N),” Billy calls, and the moment you turn to look at him, he picks you up, a hand on the small of your back and the other under your legs. “I'll take her to the infirmary.” He tells Nancy, clearly pissed.

“I can walk.” You mutter, glancing at Nancy. She nods and makes a gesture with her thumb and little finger, bringing them to her ear and mouth. But you won't just call her, you need to talk to her face to face.

“Even so.”

Billy is silent on the way to the infirmary, and when he leaves you on the hospital bed they have here, he excuses himself. Then you're left alone with a very curious school nurse. She makes a lot of questions you only give half answers to. But lucky for you, your knee is fine, you'll just need a bag of ice to prevent any swelling. She gives you one and tells you to get another when you get home.

“I'm not going back there, that's final.” You hear Billy talking to someone, and seconds later he comes into the infirmary. “How are you?”

“I'm fine. Just need to put some ice on it.” Billy is weird, keeping a certain distance. “Where did you go?”

“To speak with the Principal. Or else I'm sure you'd get suspended along with that bitch.”

“Thanks.”

“I'll wash the sweat away and drive you home.” And he leaves again.

As you wait, in the empty infirmary, you take the ice off your knee when it starts to burn. What's wrong with Billy? He was normal during the game, and now... A lot of possibilities go through your head. Maybe he realized this is stupid, the idea of you and him. Maybe he decided to go out with Stacy again because she gives him what you don't. But it just doesn't feel like it.

And the weird feeling in your chest gets you by surprise. It feels like a sting, a pressure. You have no idea why Billy acting distant suddenly makes you feel this way. As if you just lost something you don't even know how to get back.

“Let's go.” The voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and when you look at the clock, you see there's still half an hour of the game.

“Won't you get in trouble for leaving the game?”

“Don't worry about it.”

“D-do you think you can carry me?” The question comes out the moment he gestures for you to move. You don't know where it came from, but you just need to be closer to him. What Stacy said is still burning in your head, and part of you silently prays that this isn't the reason why Billy suddenly stepped back. So you just need to break through him, take down this wall he decided to build.

But to your relief, Billy's expression changes at your request. His face gets soft, and he nods before carefully picking you up. “I'm sorry.” He mutters, walking out of the infirmary.

“It wasn't your fault.”

“Of course it was.” He's avoiding your gaze, looking forward. It feels weird to be carried like that, and you wonder if you'll fall. But something tells you Billy wouldn't let go. His grip is firm, and he doesn't seem like he's in a hurry, since his pace is slow. “Stacy thinks she owns me because... Because what she said was true. Part of it, I mean.”

“Which part?” You softly ask, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“That I used to go back to her. In between a girl and another.” Billy's voice is heavy, and he sounds... Angry. At Stacy, maybe, or just at himself. “But it wasn't because she's good at something, it was because she was always easy. All that it took was a call, and everything I had to say was the time and place, and she would be there.”

It didn't go unnoticed that he's talking in the past, and it makes your heart beat a little faster. “And... All the rest?” Billy leaves the halls, reaching the parking lot and heading to his car.

“I don't think you're a prude.” When you get to his car, Billy puts you down and opens the door for you. “And I don't see anything wrong with the way you dress.” He pushes the door close, and your eyes follow him as he walks around the car, taking the driver's seat. “I'd comment on the part she calls you ‘small tits’ but I know you well enough not to, so...”

“Oh, shut up, B.” You giggle, running a hand through your hair.

“Buckle up, pretty girl.” He says, and that's what you do.

But the moment was just... A moment. Billy is back at being weird the entire ride, and he doesn't say anything as he carries you inside, putting you on the couch. You quickly tell your mother what happened, but you made it sound like an accident. There's no reason for her to know the rest. And when she goes upstairs, you call Billy to sit with you. But he doesn't, eyes on the floor as he stands by the coffee table.

“You could've broken your leg, you know that?” He says in a low voice, still not looking at you.

“But I didn't. And I don't understand–”

“That was on me. That was because I gave her reasons to think–”

“B, you can't blame yourself for what someone else does.” Cutting him off, you reach out your hand. “C'mon, I'm alright.”

“No.” Shaking his head, Billy finally looks up at you. “I can't do this. I can't be the reason why you get hurt.” And then, he walks away.

“Billy.” You call, but since doesn't stop, you push yourself up, limping to the door. But by the time you get there, Billy is already in his car. “Billy, don't go!” It comes out as a plead, as you feel a familiar lump in your throat. “Please...” You whisper as he drives away.

You don't know what just happened, you don't know if you did something. But there's one thing that just took you by surprise. An acknowledgment, a terrifying truth you don't want to think about.

You like Billy way more than you thought you did.

And as you push me the door close, leaning against the wall, a tear rolls down. There's a lot of things you don't understand about Billy, but you want to. You thought you were taking some walls down, growing closer to him, but now... Now you just don't know anymore.

×

@multific @clockworkballerina @tina1938 @graciehams @moatsnow @all-the-stars-on-your-skin @captain039 @rebelemilu @vivian-likes-frogs

[outofsstyles]

KILLER QUEEN (80s!AU)

 A/N: Heyaa!! So here’s what happens when I watch Sing Street right after reading some of Olivia’s boyfriend!Harry prompts :) Also a huge thank you to Soph @canyon-moan​ for betaing this for me!! A gentle reminder that I was not, in fact, alive in the 80s so please take it easy in that aspect lol. If you like it *please reblog*, it helps a lot, also I’d love to hear your feedback!!!!

Word count: 25.3k (I have no self control!! Someone stop me!!)

Pairing: Musician!Harry + Bassist!Reader

Prompts: making it official + enemies but secretly lovers

Warnings: Our typical mentions of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll (and a lot of denim!)

Concept: You and Harry are in rival bands and you shouldn’t really get along but you can’t help it.

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

It didn’t come as a surprise to you that, from the moment you agreed to be part of the band, your agenda would become more frantic. That’s all you read on magazines or see on the television on those late nights MTV programs that love to talk about that rockstar life. The shows and the sleepless nights. The drugs and the sex between stages. It’s always what comes to the minds of anyone that thinks about following the music path.

Of course, you’re far from being The Bangles or Duran Duran, but even when it comes to playing for uninterested drunks on small crummy bars, you still found yourself barely able to catch a breather from it. 

And it also doesn’t help that on top of it all, you also try your best to balancing your studies as you go into your third year of uni. So, between being tucked behind your bass during rehearsals and going around begging for stuck up pub owners to give a spot, you still have to find time for the busy class schedule that also blends with your tutoring job on the side. Sometimes it feels like juggling those two contrasting lives is too much, and when you walk home each day too exhausted to even function, you ponder if you should just drop one of them.

You still manage to fall into a rather chaotic routine of dragging through weekdays to fall into reckless weekends. It’s not easy, but you make it work.

Today, however, seemed to be an odd one. From the moment you woke up with the sound of birds chirping and the faint conversation of your neighbors outside your window, you felt a sense of relaxation that has become a rarity to you. It’s a welcoming change from your usual rowdy roommates bantering at each other or the loud music blasting through the walls that serve as your alarm on regular days. The silence that engrosses your normally-chaotic home is calming as much as it is strange. 

The whole day went by in a lulling and lazy pace, and between your several attempts of keeping yourself occupied (that being going on a walk to the library or going through your mom’s old recipe book) you actually catch yourself realizing the quietness can be louder than your roommates.

It’s a weird concept to you. Missing them when you spend so much time together in the band, but you still can’t help it. So you just blast the radio and let Rio fill in the empty walls as you wait for one of them to come home.

By the time the night falls, wind thumping on the closed windows as the first thin drops of rain start to hit the glass, Lena is back from her shift with a low huff and a roll of her eyes, mumbling how she’s never covering weekend shifts ever again -- which you both know is not true, but neither mention it. And that’s how you find yourself at the end of your unruffled day, tucked at the end of your couch under a cozy blanket. Listening to one of MTV’s nightly programs - that Lena watches almost religiously after a day of work - as background noise. You focus on the open book settled on top of your lap, enjoying her company quietly as you flip through the pages.

It could be the perfect ending for a perfectly relaxing day, the sound of the rain almost lulling you to sleep as the words in front of you begin to shuffle, finding it harder to concentrate with your mind drifting off.

But before you can let your eyes fall close and your head snuggle back into the cushions, you’re startled awake by the burst of your front door opening. The sudden noise makes you and Lena jump, a yelp leaving your lips as you look back to the source of your fright. 

You barely have any time to feel panicked or even wrap your head around the possibilities of what could have caused the outburst as Abbey barges into the room.  She all but jumps on each step, stumbling a bit as she makes her way around the couch to stand tall in front of you. Her red hair is full and damp, droplets of water running down her body, causing her clothes to stick to her skin.

“I got us a gig!” Her breath is short as if she just ran a long way.

“Christ, Abbey, don’t do that!” You relax back into the couch once you realize there’s no real threat invading your home, closing your eyes and letting out a breath. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

She scoffs, “Did you listen to a word I just said?” You notice her eyes are blown out, “I got us a gig, as in a </i> real gig.”

“A real gig?” Lena inquires, standing up to walk towards the front door that was left agape, closing it with a thump.

Abbey’s grin grows, her words come out slow but clear. “Next Saturday in the Blue Bird.”

“That’s in a week.” You state.

Her shoulders drop, “Yeah, and?”

“Blue Bird?” Lena comes in the room again, stopping by the head of the couch and crossing her arms under her chest. “How did you even get that I thought the only band that played there was--”

“You’re right Lena, was as in not anymore because we are playing there, and there’s more.” She interrupts, her voice raising an octave. “The owner, Ronnie, said if we’re good enough he can arrange for us to play every other weekend.”

“You’re insane.” You shake your head slightly. “That’s like a place where people actually go for the music, what makes you think we can pull that off?”

Abbey points a finger at you, “You’re being a pessimist, and that’s not appreciated in here.” She waves her hands around, trying to assert her point. “We can and we will pull that off and take over the permanent spot on the weekends.”

“Is that what this is about?” Lena smirks, eyebrows raising at her friend. “It’s been a hot minute since you raged about that Harry boy.”

 “It’s not just about him, Adeline.” She barks, “It’s about us! We need to find our confidence again.”

 “Again?” You speak out, making her snap her eyes back at you.

“Yes, again.” She says, “We’re doing this and it’s gonna be wicked.”

You sigh, nodding in agreement as you exchange a knowing look with Lena.

In all fairness, the prospect of playing a gig at an actual music house is as exciting as it is scary. It’s not like you think you’re not able to pull it off, but the simple thought of having people actually paying attention to your presence on stage is enough to make you want to hide under your covers and never come out. But seeing Abbey so pumped about it, there’s no way in a million years you’d ever say no.

She was the one that wanted to start a band, after all. Before she dropped out, in what seems like ages ago, she was your roommate that would drag you around every time she had those spontaneous ideas, that is going out for pancakes at three in the morning, go on weekend trips to concerts two cities away, or, well, start a band herself.  

In the beginning, it was just the three of you, Abbey as the lead, you on the bass, and a girl you met on one of the said weekend trips, who had introduced herself as Lena, on the guitar. And not even a month later, you were all living together in a tiny house near the main street. 

At first, the biggest issue, to your surprises, was that you couldn’t find a drummer if your lives depended on it. Even after putting out posters around campus, you only got two calls from men whose only interest was the “all-girls band” part of it. Things got better when you met Jaz, a smiley girl from your Phonetics class. She wasn’t a drummer, but her boyfriend was, they both played for their High School band (which is how they met, a proper movie-worthy story if they’d ask you). And just like that, you got yourselves a drummer and a keyboardist.

For the next few months that followed you played on dirty bars and house parties, getting paid with tipsy pats on your backs, or, if you were lucky, maybe a pack of cheap drinks for you all to share. It’s the frustrating part of trying to get into the music path, you found, most serious places were not interested on a band with hardly any live experience and no original songs whatsoever. So you just had to take whatever opportunity came your way. Once, you even played on the birthday party of Lena’s manager’s daughter, which was probably the most disastrous experience of them all, considering a crowd of eight-year-olds and their posh moms weren’t exactly fond of listening to loud covers of Blondie. You got to play three full songs before one of them asked you to leave. 

The first time you actually got money was when Abbey dragged you and Lena to play on the sidewalk of the National Park, where people would come and go with their busy lives and full wallets. That was the best one, you easily got three hundred within a few hours of your open cases, which was split between the three of you at the end of the day.

Afterward, you wanted to play on the streets again, but Abbey wished more than just being a street performer, she yearned for the glow of the spotlights and a place on the stage. And it’s not like you lot didn’t think of it as well, how it would be like to have an actual gig. So, you just went back to the old routine of jumping from bar to bar.  Playing for people that couldn't care less about your presence on the small stage, focusing only on their cheap beers and drunk conversations. 

For a while it seemed like that was all there was to it, the music scene getting more congested by the minute, you thought there was no way you’d ever make it out there. There were moments you even thought about giving it up, if you were honest, setting your mind into getting your English degree that at least has the guarantee of a stable paycheck by the end of it. But as Abbey always says, there’s nothing you can’t do with a twist of your hair and a bat of your lashes. And somehow, she managed to be true to her word, presenting an opportunity to actually start taking this seriously.

And it would be a lie to say there isn’t an excitement growing at the pit of your stomach the more you think about it.

                                ❁         ❁        ❁ 

You’ve heard about the Blue Bird before.

Of course you have, it’s near to impossible not to. Being in a small town, predominantly surrounded by uni students, and that being the only music pub in the area, you’ve heard about it quite often. 

It’s become quite the hot spot for people interested in listening to good music while getting lost in the bottom of their beer glasses. With the only other competitor being a good forty-minute drive away, people go in crowds on the weekends as a getaway from their textbooks. You’re not sure why you’ve never been in it, though, only going as far as walking past it on your nightly walks during the week, listening to the faint sound of whatever band’s playing at the time. 

But if there’s one thing that’s always brought up when the subject is the Blue Bird is CHASM, more specifically Harry Styles. They have the permanent spot on the weekends and have become one of the main reason people - women, mainly - come in lots to have a spot inside the packed space. 

As much as his name comes up in a dreamy sigh and followed by a string of giggles when you hear it being mentioned by a classmate or overhear it somewhere in public, inside of your bubble he’s pretty much only mentioned in annoyed huffs or with a roll of eyes. If you’re honest, you know close to nothing about him, wouldn’t even be able to point him out on the street if you ever happen to cross paths. But you do know that Abbey is not fond of him in the slightest, so for that, you try to keep your distance from anything that has to do with Harry Styles.

You’re not sure how this hatred of her came to be and to be honest, you’ve never really been bothered enough to ask. Abbey doesn’t like a lot of people, her first impression of them it’s what she keeps in her heart with zero to no chance of changing it, so you just assume this Harry guy might’ve not given her a good one. It’s never really been something you really dwelled on, the circumstances in your life allowing you to ignore his existence unless he’s being spoken of. But it feels like a whole nother story now that you’ve essentially stolen his golden spot on the saturday night. 

The moment you walk into The Blue Bird is when you start to come to the realization that this is really happening. Not even a full step in, your eyes already dart to the big stage standing tall across from the entrance door, bigger than any other one you’ve ever been in -- being used to small platforms that barely have enough space to fit a drumset. it’s hard not to let your lips part in awe at the size of it all, the outside is rather modest compared to it, the only really striking detail being the LED sign with the name of the pub. There’s a large bar standing in the middle of the place, serving almost as a divisor of the two areas of the pub. The first area is the one you walk into as you first enter the place, with tables surrounding the space -- that now have their chairs propped on top of them, and you reckon this is where people sit around as they wait for the musical act of afterward when they can barely keep themselves up on their feet. The second area, however, it’s just empty of any barrier, except from the stools lined in front of the bar, meant mainly for people to crowd in front of the stage.

The walls are what catches your attention, though. The one where the front door stands is covered with magazines and newspaper cutouts of celebrities, scandalous headlines written in big bold letters, and random articles about their personal lives. On top of this big collage, there are band posters, you assume the ones that played in here, most of them stuck once to the wall, except for one that you can see multiple different colored papers with the same name written on it. 

You stop in front of one of them, one that’s just below your eyesight but catches your attention with the big blood-red letters that read CHASM on top of it, with a smaller font on the side saying  “live every weekend of ‘87” right below it. What you focus on, however, are the five faces staring back at you, their serious expressions looking almost haunting with the black and white filter. But it’s the one in the middle that your eyes immediately dart to. Unlike his bandmates, his lips are frozen with a slight smirk, small enough that wandering eyes could easily miss it, but still prominent enough that you can make out the shadow of a dimple on his cheek. His hair is settled in a wild nest, but not in a sloppy way, you decide, they’re a rockstar kind of messy. He’s handsome, there’s no doubt in that, just by looking at the small print of his face you can understand what the fuss is about, not that you’d ever admit that out loud. But it doesn’t keep your mind from wondering the color of his eyes and what it would be like to see them up close, as you look back at the taunting grin you think what could be the tone of his lips or--

“Lost something in there?” Lena’s voice makes you jump, turning swiftly to find her grinning at you. “You should come and start getting everything ready before Abbey finds you admiring our arch-nemesis.”

Your eyes widen, coughing in surprise as you try to regain composure after being caught. “I-- I wasn’t--”

She chuckles, turning to roam back to the stage before you can finish, throwing you one last look over her shoulder. “Sure thing, buttercup.”

You spare one last look to the poster before following her lead to the other side of the room where the rest of your friends are setting up the instruments on top of the stage. Once you locate your case tucked in the far left corner you quickly open it, finding your soft pink tinted bass resting inside of it. The Sesame Street sparkling stickers stuck to it glimmer from this angle (you got them in a favor bag from when you played at the birthday party), thanks to one of the spotlights shining directly at them. You pick the instrument up, adjusting the strap over your shoulder and giving the chords a few experimental strokes before looking up at the empty place.

There’s no denial of the anticipation that takes over every part of your body at the sight of the pub from the stage. A perfect mixture of excitement and anxiousness that lights up as you imagine how it will be like to see it filled up. It makes you gnawn at you bottom lip, jumping a bit on you feet as you move to connect your bass to the amplifier.

For a while, you just finish setting up the stage, tuning in the instruments, the sounds echoing on the empty space in a bit of a disarray, as you get used to the feeling of using proper sound equipment. You had the chance to meet the owner, Ronnie, for a brief minute as he strolled around the stage, observing you all before mumbling something about paying anything you broke and announcing he’d be in his office until opening hours. It wasn’t the warmest greeting you’ll admit, but you don’t really care, enjoying the opportunity nevertheless. 

Abbey arrives just a few minutes before the rehearsal is set to start, contemplating the view of everyone getting into a more of a harmonic arrangement before disappearing backstage for a moment without saying much of a word. When she comes back, she props herself in front of a big curved mirror cutting through one of the walls.

“Do you think you can do my makeup today, babe?” She calls back at you, gazing from over her shoulder with a slight pout on her ips.

“Sure.” You fiddle with the guitar pick between your fingers. “Do you want that rainbow look from last time?”

“Maybe something with less color this time.” She focuses back on her reflection, sighing loudly as fingers run through her locks. “I’m thinking of dying my hair black,” she tilts her head as if she’s envisioning her words. “I don’t know, just to try out something new.”

“That won’t make you look more like Joan Jett, you know.” A voice echoes in the empty space, bringing your attention to the entrance of the place.

And there he stands. The figure you had been staring at not long before, on the same poster stuck right behind where he is leaning, arms crossed and a smug look on his face. 

Harry stands there as if he just walked right out of the big screen, is the kind of beautiful you don’t see quite often outside a magazine cover. Not that it’s something that surprises you, considering you could tell from even a poorly printed image on a poster that the sharp curve of his jaw and the cut of his cheekbones could call anyone’s attention from afar. Even with what you find to be a rather plain outfit for someone like him, a simple white turtleneck tucked in his lightwash jeans, matched with a denim jacket, he still manages to stand out somehow. It’s almost compelling, really. And you can’t help but follow him with your eyes as he pushes himself off the wall, making his way towards the bar with an attitude as if he owns the place.

Abbey scoffs from her spot, arms crossing under her chest. “Unlike you, I don’t have to try to be someone else to get attention, Styles.”

He rests an elbow on top of the counter, chuckling as he points a finger at your friend. “You’re getting better at this, I’m proud.”

“What the fuck are you even doing here?” She barks, keeping a stern look pointed at him.

“Wanted to check out who stole our Saturday night spot, princess.” He spits back at her, words dancing around the room in a teasing manner. “When Ronnie said it was a bunch of newbies had to see it with my own eyes.” Unlike her, he doesn’t seem bitter at the situation in hand, but somewhat amused at the heated girl scoffing at him. From the distance you stand, you can’t make out details, but it’s still enough to notice the grin imprinted on his face, dimples marking his cheeks as he clenches his jaw, eyes wandering around the stage as he leans back fully to rest both elbows on top of the stool. “Plus, I get free booze before the House opens.”

As the words leave his lips his eyes meet yours, and you quickly realize you must’ve been staring for quite a while. You see the smirk growing on his face before you quickly look back at the forgotten bass in your hands. There’s a warmth creeping from your neck to the tip of your ears from getting caught all but gawking at him. You move your hands to the cords, beginning to tune the instrument as an attempt to cover-up. But when you take a peek at him you still find his eyes watching you, only enhancing the blush that’s now undoubtedly taking over your cheeks.

“You lot are way more organized than I expected.” He speaks up again, motioning towards Ross sitting by the side of the stage near the drumset.  “Got a roadie and everything.”

“Piss off!” Ross snarls back at him.

Harry just smiles. “Just taking a piss, mate.”

“I better not see you going around trying to get to one of my girls, Styles.” Abbey calls back from her shoulder as she jumps onto the stage, turning to face him. “Or you’re a dead man.”

“What’s that they can’t speak for themselves?” He arches his brows at her. “Where’s all that sexual freedom you love to brag about?”

“You’d love to use that as an excuse, wouldn’t you?” She toys with the mic stand. “You stay away from them.”

There’s no more banter once you begin the rehearsal. Harry grabbing a glass of a drink you can’t quite make out from the distance and moves to a spot tucked by the back of the place. Curiously, you catch yourself glimpsing in his direction every so often, but you can barely make out his silhouette due to the stage lights limiting your vision. At one point, when it dims down, you can see him scrunching over the table, focusing on a small journal sitting on top of it -- you find it odd his choice of place to do so, but don’t duel on it too much.

What keeps crawling back into your mind is Abbey’s words to Harry earlier, telling him to not try his way with any of you. She was talking about you. That much was clear, considering there’s not any other choice for him, with Jaz being very much compromised and Lena having no interest in engaging with men in any way. That leaves you as the only option that he could possibly pursue. It makes you think why she’d even consider that a possibility in the first place, but you push it to the back of your mind, concentrating on you bass lines until it’s around the opening hour and you’re getting ready backstage.

None of you are used to the concept of having a dressing room, so as undusted as it seems from a first glance, it still only helps to enhance the reality that hits you of this whole experience. The far voices from people starting to fill in the bar outside making your nerves become near overwhelming as you try to apply some eyeshadow with shaky hands. 

When you’re all ready to go, just about half an hour away from walking onstage, you try to dull your anxiety with a cup handed to you by Lena of something you’re not quite sure what it is but it tastes like oranges and tequila. You settle on a spot on the certainly old red couch prompted against the wall. Avoiding a big rip cutting through the middle of it, foam poking out of the hole, you try not to think of what could’ve caused it -- or all the other stains adorning it. 

There’s people coming and going around the space, the door not staying close for longer than a minute. Faster than you can process it, the room is suddenly crammed with people, none of which you recognize yet they greet you as if you’d been friends your whole life. Their loud voices mesh together, making it harder to even hear your own voice if you were to speak out loud. A strong scent of incense takes over the room, so intense you can feel the beginning of a headache. There are people stumbling on their feet trying to get to the stool across from you, where you catch a glimpse of a man with a messy mohawk snorting something out of a dirty bill. 

Two strangers found their sits next to you at some point - not paying the same attention you had to the rip scarring through the cushions. Both get lost in their conversation, the man’s fluffed curls poking your face occasionally when he gets too excited with the hand gestures. You catch a word or two when they try to include you in it, you offer a simple nod, not bothering to try and understand their muddled words.

It all starts to feel a bit overwhelming, the amount of strangers surrounding you along with the nervous feeling that’s already taking over your stomach -- the drink not being of any help at all. You look around trying to find a familiar face, but you can barely spot the green ends of Lena’s hair through the crowd. Gazing down at your wrist clock, you figure there’s enough time for you to find a emptier spot so you can calm yourself down.

“I think I’m gonna get some air.” You say to no one in particular, seeing the man’s head nodding from your peripheral vision as you maneuver your way between leather-clad bodies towards the door.

You’re met with a just as packed hallway. Searching for a more vacant space, you spot a sign indicating an exit door that had been pointed at you earlier as the back alleyway. Without a second thought, you make your way around the crowded space. The nest of feet makes you trip slightly, making you crash against a girl standing next to the door. You mutter a quick apology, but you’re only met with a pitched giggle in response.

Once you reach the door you all but jolt your way out of the building. The brisk night air hitting your face, bringing a sense of relief near to instantly. You close your eyes at the feeling, breathing in as the breeze dances around your face and messes with your air.

“Well, if it’s not one of Abigail’s bunnies.” A voice cuts through the air, breaking you from your moment of relief. Your eyes flutter open, meeting Harry’s irises watching you. He’s leaning back on the wall across from you, foot prompt up and jacket thrown over his shoulders. His fingers fiddle with a closed package of cigarettes, dimples shadowing on his face in amusement.

You blink at him, taking a second to process his words. “I’m not a bunny, whatever that means.”

His lips twitch up. “I’m sure you’re not, darling.”

You observe as he thumbs the package in hand open, quickly grabbing a cigarette and resting it between his lips. “Need a light for that?”

His brows shoot up. “Didn’t take you for a smoker, angel.”

“I’m not, my friends are.” You reach for the back pocket of your jeans, pulling out a tiny pink lighter and throwing it towards him.

He catches it, holding it up between his index and middle finger. “You carry that around for your friends?” He keeps his eyes trained on you as he raises the lighter, flicking it so it paints the end of the cigarette a fiery orange. You can’t help but notice the chipped black nail polish adorning his nails, a couple of rings hugging his fingers, only adding to his rockstar persona. His cheeks hollow around it, taking a slow drag exhaling smooth puffs of smoke out of his puckered lips. He points the end of the cigarette towards you. “That’s a good girl.”

You feel your breath hitch on your throat, looking down as you feel for the second time in the day a heat taking over your cheeks. Standing awkwardly in the middle of the alleyway, your gaze waves around checking a few other lone smokers not too far from you. When you peek at him again, he’s still watching you with the same smug look he had when he first walked in. From this distance you can get a better look at his face, with it’s full colors, and you make a point to figure the forest green of his eyes flickering under the dim light. 

You clear your throat, trying to fill in the silence that’s taken over the space. Keeping your eyes still trained on a random spot where the alley meets the street, you speak up,  “So, how did get a gig here?”

“Trying to get to know me now, love?” There’s a smug tone to his voice, and it makes you shoot your eyes at him.

You shake your head, scoffing softly. “Was trying to be nice, forget it.”

He lets the air fall quiet for a beat, the corner of his lips tugging up as he takes another drag of the cigarette. “My uncle owns the place.”

“Ronnie is your uncle?” You crease your eyebrows.

“Yup.” He props his foot down from the wall, kicking a small rock on the floor. “He’s a right prick, but he can be nice if you get on his soft spot.” He shrugs, eyes meeting yours. “What ‘bout you, bunny?”

 “What about me?”

“How did you get in the spotlight?”

You breathe out a laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not in the spotlight,” 

“You’re stepping on that stage in a few minutes, love, that’s hardly true.”

You chew on your lip, locking your eyes on your feet as you sway back and forth gently. “But I’m, like, on the invisible side of the stage.”

“Invisible side?” 

You shrug, trying to appear unflappable. “Yeah, well, no one ever notices the bassist.”

“I do.” He says without skipping a beat, and when you search for his eyes they’re aloof as if the words just left his lips without a single implication behind them. You wonder if there is one. Or maybe you’re just reading too much into it. Nonetheless, it doesn’t stop a flock of butterflies to sweep on your stomach as he shoots you a warm smile. He motions to the door behind you with his head, “Better get going, darling, if someone spots us talking they might think we’re friends.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“Did you see how crazy they went when we did Call Me?” Abbey leans over the table, not paying any mind to the way it starts to tilt towards her side. You and Jaz quickly balance the weight, straightening surface before the filled cups can start sliding down and causing a mess. You give her a scolding look for not being careful, but she doesn’t even look at you, only picking a fry from the pile in the middle and dipping inside her vanilla milkshake, sitting back and elbowing Lena next to her playfully. “And to think you said it’s not a gig song.”

“I didn’t say that.” Lena shakes the cup in her hand, circling the straw as to mix the melting ice cream inside, completely unfazed by her friend’s tease. “Just said we should do something new if people wanted old songs they would tune on that good times radio station, or whatever it’s called.”

“People like listening to classics!” Abbey protests, raising her voice bit, she’s either forgotten she’s in public or is just simply too stoned to care. Either way, you try to shush her, muffling a giggle with the back of your hand as you see a group two tables down looking back at her. She only huffs, leaning back down on her seat, “What do you suggest we play, then? Duran Duran?”

“I like Duran Duran.” You pester, trying to repress a smile as she shoots you a pointed look.

“I actually think Duran Duran is a great idea.” Lena backs you up, the same taunting smile reflecting on her face as she says it looking at you. 

“You two are completely insane if you think I’m singing new wave, might as well start to fill in for a new vocalist.” She shoves her hand full of fries, dropping to her side of the table with a shrug.

“Jaz you think that girl from your choir is available? The blonde one?” Lena bites into her straw, barely containing her laugh as Abbey narrows her eyes at her.

You watch in amusement from across the table, the contrast between Lena and Abbey looking comical as they continue to banter at each other. In one side there’s Lena who’s leaning back on the wall next to her, her neon pink jumpsuit standing out from anyone else in your group, hair hardly styled, being more of a nest in her head, the sides shaved and the back falling on her shoulders in a mullet. On the other side, Abbey’s swallowed in black, the only color being the red of her hair, that’s pushed up in a high side ponytail.

It was her idea to come to the diner after the gig, declining every offer of an after party (which is new for her) and insisting you had to have this moment to decompress together as a band. What you didn’t take account of, is that a diner on a Saturday night isn’t exactly a deserted place. So after spending an hour sitting on the parking lot, waiting for a table, you finally got yourselves a booth tucked by the back. And now as the place gets clearer and quieter by the minute, after getting your round of burgers, you share a big pile of fries, not ready to leave and sleep on this experience just yet.

“You know who also seem to enjoy the show? That Harry dude.” The mention of his name calls your attention to Lena. “Caught him in the corner a couple times watching us.”

You take a sip of his drink, trying to mask any expression that exposes the fact that you’d noticed too, maybe more than just a couple times.

To your relief, everyone focuses on Abbey as she lets out an annoyed huff. “Why’d you bring him up of all people.” She picks up her nearly empty cup a bit too harshly, her voice rising again. “He called me a Joan Jett wannabe! Fucking prick.”

 “You do dress like her,” Lena raises her brows in defiance.

“It’s called an inspiration, Adeline, doesn’t mean I’m trying to be her.” She barks at her friend. “Doesn’t give that knobhead the right to be a dick about it.”

“Why don’t you like him?” The question slips out of your lips before you can stop it, and you regret it as soon as all eyes on the table set on you, Abbey’s face creasing in an incredulous look as if the answer was obvious.

 “Are you serious? Did you hear how he spoke to us?”

“I don’t know,” You shrug, looking down at your lap, fiddling with the hem of your shorts. “Just seemed like he was trying to get a rise out of you.”

“He’s got a stick up his ass, babe. A full narcissist, it’s ridiculous.” She shakes her head, scrunching her nose in aversion. “He’s also a complete womanizer, it’s disgusting if you ask me.”

“I guess,” You gaze up at her.”

“Babe, he’s a charmer, I’ve seen it before, he knows how to sweet talk someone.” She explains in a sigh. “They’re all like that.”

“They?”

“Men in bands.” She picks up another fry, poking it on her forehead as she makes her point. “Have their heads bigger than the whole stage, think they can do just about anything.”

“Suppose that’s true,” You agree, not wanting to get further in this discussion.

She smiles, biting a piece of the fry before pointing it at you. “It is, which is why we are smart girls and don’t fuck with them.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

You’re aware that going for a walk by yourself at night is not a very secure choice. 

Even living in what you feel like could be the most monotone town in the area (where the biggest report on the local news was when two boys got stuck on a tree thanks to a dare with their friends). But it still doesn’t stop you from being careful, only going around the busier streets, watching the movement of people - mostly students - chatting the night away on the filled pub table, enjoying the short break between studies before going back at it once the weekend’s over. 

You stroll around with not much of a purpose, really, only needing a bit of time to yourself every so often when you feel the turmoil in your home becomes to much (on those weekends when both your roommates decide to stay home). So you just go on your usual path, breathing in the night air and enjoying some alone time.

The ending of your course is marked by none other than the Blue Bird, standing in a corner of the main street.

 A small group of people is gathered in front of it, smoking their cigarettes. You stare at them for a minute as you get closer to the led lights indicating the entrance of the pub, the girls with their bright-colored outfits, hair styled and puffed up as they laugh along to whatever one of the boys has said. One of them has a leather jacket thrown over her shoulder that almost swallows her figure, and you can only assume that it belongs to the man talking to her, leaning back on a payphone, the quiff in his hair so high it makes him look like a knock-off John Travolta. The thought makes you breathe out a laugh to yourself.

Once you reach the entrance you look at it mindlessly, not being able to see much from outside except the string curtain hanged on top of the open door. You turn on your heels, ready to start making your way back, but as you pay attention to the muffled sounds coming from inside the pub you stop on your tracks. A familiar tune catching your attention, making you turn in the direction of the entry. Somebody to Love. 

It peaks your curiosity. If you’re honest, you feel like covering a Queen song is probably one of the most bound for disaster decisions someone can make. But as you feel yourself approaching the entrance, the voice of whoever’s singing it all but lures you inside. It’s not the same as the original, of course, but the lower tone to it fits it just as beautifully and once you fully walk in you can almost feel your heart skip a beat to find Harry standing on stage. His eyes closed in concentration. 

It’s saturday. His saturday night. You forgot about that.

You don’t dare to try to mend amongst the crowd of people packed in front of the stage, making your way to the bar. You thankfully find an empty stool without much of a fight, allowing you a perfect vision of the stage.

Harry is playing the guitar, his voice blending perfectly with the vocals of the girls in the background, eyes closed as he feels every lyric coming out of his throat. His stage look is much different than the one he wore back when you first saw him, it’s something you reckon not many people could rock out as good as he does. A mismatched suit, light green blazer with a pink blouse underneath, along with bright blue trousers -- it’s as if he picked one piece from different colored suits (which you assume he probably did). The locks of his hair are no longer running wild on his head, instead, it’s gelled back, a single rebel strand falling charmingly against his forehead. You wonder if it’s on purpose.

It’s quite a sight to see him like this, you’re not gonna lie. All suited up with no tie, the blouse only partially buttoned so you notice a tease of some tattoos on his chest. You’d noticed his good looks before, it’s impossible not to, but there’s something about the stage glow that makes it impossible to look away from him. It’s mesmerizing.

To your surprise, the rest of his set mainly consists of originals, and unlike you’d expect for any amateur band that dares to sweep away from covers, he manages to hold the crowd’s attention as if he’s singing any other hit song you hear on the radio. Even not knowing the lyrics, people cheer along to the songs, moving to the beat as best as they can in the crowded space. And that’s a direct result of the charisma he holds while standing on stage.

It’s entrancing, really, how he holds himself as if he was born to be doing this. And you think maybe he was. 

There’s a mischievous glow to him, when he rocks out to his own songs, grinding slightly against the mic stand. A gesture that makes you flustered even from your seat a couple of meters away. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him even if you tried. And you’re sure as hell not trying.

At one point you feel a poke in your arm, turning around to be met with the barman who recognizes you from the week prior. He greets you with a shout over the noise, offering you a drink on his account. Your first instinct is to refuse, considering you weren’t even supposed to stay for long, but after a bit of insisting on his part you accept with a shy smile.

By the time he’s ending the last song, you’re at the edge of your seat, catching yourself wishing you could see more of him. The lights in the audience turn on as he wraps up the set, and just before he bows down with the rest of his band his eyes wander in your direction. It’s so quickly that you think you could’ve just imagined it, considering his eyes don’t meet yours again, only rushing his way backstage.

You blink at the empty spot where he once stood for a moment, almost feeling frozen in place as you try to take in what happened. Turning on your stool to face the bar, you gaze down at your forgotten drink. You hold it to your lips, deciding to finish it so you can ease your way out before anyone else spots you. Your attempt is frustrated, however, when you hear a voice coming from behind you.

“Reckon Abbey Road would throw a fit if she knew you’re wandering around watching my concert.” You turn to face Harry, finding him looking down at you, signature smirk making his dimples poke onto his cheeks. His hands are hidden inside the pockets of his dress pants and he’s taken off his blazer, causing the pink of his blouse to stand out even more.

You chew the inside of your lip. “I can make my own decisions, you know.”

“That’s good to hear, bunny.” His smile grows, hand leaving the pocket to motion at the empty spot next to you. “Mind if I sit here?”

“Be my guest.”

He sits on the empty stool, turning to the bartender that’s handing a drink to a man standing behind you. “Can you give the lady another one of what she was drinking? On my tab.”

“Oh you don’t have to, I was about to--” You begin, but the man behind the counter doesn’t care to listen, only picking up your empty glass and moving away to fill it up. “leave.”

“Already?” Harry arches his eyebrows, resting his arm on top of the counter and leaning towards you. His voice comes out a bit softer, dropping the playful tone, “let me buy you a drink, angel.”

You ignore the way the hairs on your neck rise at the petname. “You really don’t have to--”

“I want to.”

“Okay.” You breathe out, not being able to hold back your smile once his own grows on his face.

As if on cue, the bartender comes back with two glasses, setting them in front of the two of you. You don’t fail to note the fact that he gives Harry his drink without being asked to.

He picks up his glass, holding it up, to which you do the same, clinking your glasses slightly before taking a sip.  “So, what brings you here tonight? Measuring the competition?”

 “I was just walking around, heard a lousy cover of Somebody To Love, and decided to come in.”

He throws his head back a bit in laughter, nose scrunching adorably. You have to look away as to not find yourself staring. “A Queen fan, then?”

 “You could say so.”

“A pretty girl with a good taste in music, gonna steal m’heart if you keep going, bunny.” And just like that, it’s like he takes all the words out of your mind. You only let out a small chuckle, taking a sip of your drink as you look away to cove the blush that paints your cheeks. His eyes are still trained on you, though. “Was it any good?”

“Huh?” You blink back at him.

“The cover.” He grins. “Or was it really that lousy?”

“Oh, it was amazing.” You say truthfully, clearing your throat. “You have a beautiful voice.”

“Thank you.” He bows his head slightly, smiling at you. And unlike before, it’s not smug, but rather warm, you smile back at him. “Enjoyed the show, then?”

“I did.” You nod.

“I’m glad.” He runs his finger around the brim of his glass, tapping against it once with a click of his ring against the glass.  “What would you change about it?”

The question takes you back. “What would I change?” 

 “Yeah.” He clasps his hands over his lap, moving his feet on the floor so his stool swivels from one side to the other.

“Uhm…” You crease your brows, trying to hack your brain for an answer. Your eyes land on his blouse, still halfway unbuttoned. “Your shirt.”

“M’shirt?” He questions, brows shooting towards his hairline, clearly not expecting the answer. He gazes down at the piece on his body, fingers pitching the material as he looks back at you. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Not a big fan of pink.” You shrug.

“Now, we just can’t have that, bunny.” He clicks his tongue. “Pink is the new color of rock n roll!”

You chuckle. “Says who?”

“Says me.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Oh, I’m sorry then, mister rockstar.”

His face lights up in a giggle, lips parting to say something but before he can let the words out a hand rests on his shoulder calling both your attentions to the man standing next to him. You recognize him from standing next to Harry on stage as the guitar player.

“We’re hopping over to Eamon’s.” He doesn’t acknowledge you until Harry’s eyes hover over in your direction. 

“That’s fine, think I’ll stay behind this time.” Harry looks back at his friend, but you see him glimpsing at you from the corner of his eyes.

You watch as his friend raises his brows, gazing between the two of you in a curious manner. You clear your throat, shifting in your seat as you look at them. “ It’s fine, I should get going anyway.”

“You don’t have to,” he says in a blink, a smirk twitching on his lips almost as if to cover up how quickly he said it. He turns back to his friend, who’s still watching the interaction with raised eyebrows.  “You can go without me, I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“Harry, you didn’t have to.” You subconsciously reach for his arm, retracting your touch just as fast when he glances at it. Clearing your throat, you play with “I really should get going, I was supposed to be on a walk after all.”

“Let me walk you back then,” he gets up from his stool, giving his friend a brief hug before turning back to you and extending his hand for you to take. Your lips part to protest, feeling as if you’re holding him back even though it was his decision to stay behind, but before the words can even come out of your mouth he beats you to it,  “there’s no way I’m letting you go home by yourself this late, love.”

You sigh, shoulder dropping in defeat as you hold back a smile. Taking his hand, you stand up, “okay.”

The main street hasn’t exactly quieted down since you first walked by it, in fact, it only seems like it’s gotten rowdier. Time only increasing the buzz wandering in the air around the people filling the bars, voices louder, filled glasses clinking more frequently. As you stroll through it side by side there’s a comment or to that floats in the air, but you have to all but shout it, fighting with the turmoil of noise.

As soon as you turn into the first street away from the crowds it’s as if someone had turned off the sound completely, the nest of voices getting far-off in the distance and the loudest sound being of the night breeze kissing the tree branches above you. You can feel Harry glancing up at you from the corner of your eye and it doesn’t take long until his voice echoes in the air in an attempt to make small talk.

It’s surprising to you, how easy it is to be drawn in a conversation with him. Harry’s essentially not the same offstage as he is under the spotlight, most people aren’t. There’s no need for him to bloat his charisma when talking to you, he’s quieter. Shy, almost. And it takes you back a bit, to see such contrast in a short amount of time. 

The magnetic force to him, however, still lingers even when he’s like this. You feel drawn to it, wanting to hear him speak about everything that comes to mind, just to savor the way he articulates his words, voice so calm and low it sends an electric chill down your spine. As he tells you about his music inspirations, going on the story about the time he traveled alone to crash a Fleetwood Mac concert, hands brushing against yours when he walks, you catch yourself wondering what it would feel like to link them together.

Once you reach your street, just a block away from the entrance gate of your home, you notice the front lights are yet to be turned off, indicating your roommates are still up and around -- most likely arguing about MTV’s top ten of the week. The realization makes you come to an abrupt stop, catching Harry off guard as he takes a few steps before realizing you stayed behind. 

“Wait.” You say once he turns around, brows furrowed in a silent question as to why you stopped. “Uhm… You can drop me off here… It’s fine.”

“What do you mean? Is it too far? I don’t mind walking-”

“No!” You interrupt. “It’s not that, my house is right there, see?” You point to the bricked building no too far from where you stand.

“Why do y’want me to drop you off here, then?” The crease on his face deepens.

“I-- it’s just--” you begin, not knowing how to say it. “It’s just the girls are still awake, and..”

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, an amused grin expanding on his cheeks. “Don’t wanna get scolded for hanging out with the enemy.”

“Don’t say like that.” You chuckle at yourself, looking down in embarrassment. “They just will never let me hear the end of it.”

“I get it, bunny.” He takes easy steps towards you, closing the space as he stands tall in front of you. You hold your breath as you look up at him, meeting his irises glimmering in enjoyment, dimples shadowing on his cheek. His hand reaches up, moving a strand of your hair behind your ear and you swear if he gets any closer he’ll be able to hear your heart thumping in anticipation. “Had a lovely time with you.”

“Me, uhm--” you clear your throat as your voice cracks, blood flooding your cheeks. “Me too.”

The streetlight above gives his face a golden glow that almost takes your breath away, his hair glistening in the light due to the gel pushing it back, and now even more rebel strands curl against his forehead. You half expect him to lean down, you don’t know why he would, but for a moment it seems like he will. To your dismay, however, he steps back, giving you one last smile before moving out of your way on the sidewalk. “I’ll see you around, then.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“I have some exciting news for you.”

Abbey’s voice startles you, not realizing she’d entered the dressing room while you focused on the book on your lap. Since you’ve gotten a spot at every other weekend on the pub, your routine just seemed to get even more busy, with rehearsals almost every day. So, because of that you barely find time to do your assignments. And with a book report due just around the corner, you’d thought maybe you could sneak in some reading time after the gig when everyone’s down at the bar and not prancing and screaming around the dressing room.

 Your assumptions shows itself to be wrong, however, when your perky friend bounces her way to where you sit. She kneels next to the couch, crossing her arms on top of your legs and resting her chin on them, looking up at you expectantly, lips lifted in a side grin. 

“What is it?”

“Got us an after-party, babe.” you notice a few colored lollies in her hand when she removes the plastic protecting a red one, shoving it between your lips before you can even protest. “And you’re coming with us.”

“I’d love to but I have class tom—“ Your voice is muffled around the sweet. 

She rolls her eyes, standing to sit next to you on the arm of the couch. “You should stop wasting your life with an outdated system” 

“You mean getting a degree?” 

“Do you watch the news? We’re about to be the last generation to live fully, the world is about to break into nuclear wars all around.” She says as a matter-of-fact, turning to rest her legs on top of your lap. “Cosmo said we probably won’t even make it to the 2000s” 

“Who’s Cosmo?” 

She sighs, reaching to move a strand of your hair behind your ear. Her voice comes out soft, but calculated, “what matters is that we should enjoy our time while we have it.” 

“You’re giving a whole speech about nuclear war to convince me to go to a party with you.” You arch your brows at her. 

“Yes.” 

You sigh, shoulders falling in defeat as you let yourself be convinced. “Okay. But I’ll—” 

“Great!!” She squeals, moving her legs from your lap and leaning down to grab your face, pressing a quick kiss on top of your hair before jumping from the couch, and out of the room. 

Once you arrive at the location of the after-party, Abbey leads you and Lena to a tall gate by the side of the house, explaining that you’re walking in from the back garden, considering the front door is locked. You find it odd, and if wasn’t for the muted sound of instruments echoing inside the bricked walls of the place, you’d doubt there was even a party happening here at all. The front of it was as regular as the other surrounding suburbian homes, grass neatly trimmed and the front lights turned off, as if nobody was even home.

Which is why you’re visibly taken back when you walk by the gate into the back area, finding an old vintage bus that could be around ten or even twenty years old, sitting in the middle of the grass. The wheels of it have been taken off, and every inch of the exterior is covered by graffiti, so much you couldn’t even make out the original color of it if you tried. Some of them are unreadable scribbles tangling on top of each other. Some are colorful drawings painted over them -- two sunflowers catch your attention, marked just above where the wheel would be, growing tall along the side and above the window.

“I know, right?” Abbey nods at your astounded expression. “Legend says John Lennon signed it somewhere.”

“Really?” You look at her, not able to hold back the way your voice pitches in amazement.

“Dunno, never looked for it.” She shrugs. “C’mon I’ll show you.”

She grabs your hand, dragging you to the side of the vehicle pointing at some random drawings and explaining the rumors behind their meanings. You try to concentrate on her excited babbles, but as you see Lena walking away from the corner of your eye you look up to watch her meet with a girl you’ve never seen. Before you can focus back on your friend, something else catches your attention, sitting on a wooden bench under a large tree, no too far from where you stand.

Harry’s in a small group sat in a circle. You recognize two men from his band sitting on the grass with guitars propped on their laps, one being the same that interrupted you the night at the bar. The rest are women who seem to have come right out of Fleetwood Mac’s tour bus, their long hairs pushed back with hairbands and earthtoned flare pants. But you barely even care about the ones sitting on the grass, humming along to the strings of the guitars. What grabs your attention is the one next to harry on the bench, her arm draped over his shoulder as she dabbles flower petals playfully on his hair. 

You hardly take in his appearance, half-mindedly noticing the tattoos decorating his arms that pokes out of his tank top and the twirls on his hair as the girl winds her fingers on it. it’s hard not to remember Abbey’s words when she said he knows how to sweet talk his way around, and the thought of having fallen down on his trap only makes your heart pang on your chest. 

“-- That’s basically why they won’t let anyone paint over it anymore.” You turn back to Abbey as she points to the sunflowers you’d spotted earlier, nodding along as if you’d heard everything she said. She looks at you, “but I like this way better, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah.” You agree, not exactly knowing what to.  

She wraps her arm around yours, and you grasp the minty scent of her perfume as she pulls you close. “Let’s go inside.” 

There’s an urge inside of you to peek back over your shoulder to catch a last glimpse of Harry, but you push it to the back of your mind, allowing Abbey to guide you around the bus where the entrance door is hanging open. 

A small group of people greet you inside the bus, amongst them is the said ‘Cosmo’.  He seems like the exact kind of person you’d imagine Abbey hanging around on her weekends’ escapades. Dressed in a baby blue velvet suit with nothing underneath his blazer except a few of - what you assume - hand-painted tattoos, matching with a rainbow stripe drawn on the side of his face, starting at the bridge of his nose and going all the way to the curve of his jaw. His hair hits just around his shoulders, the sides shaved so it’s like a puffed version of a mullet, edges dyed in a bright shade of red. He toys with a lit joint between his purple lips, picking it up and offering to you with a raise of his brows.

Normally you’d decline the offer, especially coming from someone you’d just met, but there’s an annoying feeling settling itself at the pit of your stomach. One you want to ignore but can only do so much to dull it, so you accept the joint, reaching for it and placing it in your mouth. 

You’re not a regular smoker by any means, and when you inhale you can feel the smoke burning your throat as it moves down to curl inside your lungs. It makes you want to cough it out but you hold it in, trying to take in everything before huffing it out in a choked breath.

“Do you want a drink?” One of the girls asks you, already pouring you a purple drink inside a labeless plastic bottle.

“What’s in this?” You accept the cup, giving her an skeptic look.

“Pure fuel, babe.” Abbey leans on your shoulder from behind.

You hang out in the bus for a while, and, to your surprise, you don’t feel left out as they keep notice to include you in their conversations. The drink ends up being not that bad, and, even having no idea what’s in it except for the very artificial citric taste mixed with some very strong cheap alcohol, you still refill your cup after you finish it. 

It’s a nice feeling, to get a bit looser in a party and allowing yourself to have some adventurous fun. And as time goes by and your mind gets cloudier, the group starts to disperse. Two of them find a spot in the back with as much privacy as they could get in a party to swallow each others faces. Another one passes out in one of the seats behind you, hugging the empty plastic bottle as if it’d run away from them. It leaves just Abbey and Cosmo with you, discussing with each other about something that you’ve stopped paying attention a long while ago.

You just watch them silently, resting your head back on the seat and feeling the late hours weightening on your eyelids. You feel like you could doze off at any moment, but what stops you from it is a loud screeching sound of an amplifier from inside the house. It startles you, making you jump slightly on your seat as you hear a voice speaking almost like a groan, and you’re not sure if it’s your drunken mind or the inaudible words but you can’t make out a single thing that’s being said. A crease deepens between your eyebrows and you turn to question your friend about it but, before you can do so what seems like the most obnoxious cover of  We Built This City starts playing.

Abbey gasps as the chords of the song somehow get even louder, grasping her hand on the man’s arm. “Oh my god!” She squeals, exchanging a look with Cosmo as they both all but jump from their seats. She glances down at you, “We’re going in, are you coming?”

You raise your brows at her, trying to hide the scrunch on your face. “I’m good.”

She nods, making her way out of the bus, her feet stumbling on each other as she holds onto her friend’s shoulder to keep her balance. And just like that, you’re left alone on the leather seat.

You peek at the couple in the back, eyes bulging slightly as you see the girl has lost her shirt, the boy’s hands caress her chest as they keep their lips locked harshly. Deciding to give them a bit more privacy, you make your way out of the bus as well, the contrast from the compact air inside the vehicle to the crisp wind of the outdoors sending chills down your body.

Looking around, you realize most people hanging around are gone, probably gone inside the house. You can’t help but let your eyes wander to the spot you’d seen Harry earlier, and you don’t hold back the shock in your face when you find him still sitting on the bench, but this time with no one else around him. He fiddles with a lighter on his hand, flickering every so often to watch the weak flame before letting it die again. 

Your feet start to move before you can really grasp that you’re walking towards him, your head still a bit cloudy from the substances in your bloodstream. He looks up once you get close to him, signature smirk growing on his lips as he glances up at you.

“Look what we have here.” He leans back, “a lost bunny.” 

“Hi, Harry.” You say simply.

His smile turns a bit softer. “Where are your bandmates?”

“Celebrating.” You shrug.

“Shouldn’t you be as well?”

“I am.” You hold up the mostly empty red cup.

He chuckles. “I see, having fun by yourself then?”

You focus on a spot beyond his head, suddenly feeling timid under his gaze. “Seems like it.”

“Want to join my private party here?” He shifts to his side, patting the spot next to him. “S’very exclusive, as you can see.”

“Well, I’m honored to be invited, then.” You sit down on the space he made for you.

For a moment, there’s a silence between the two of you, the only sound being the jarring cover of  Everybody Wants to Rule The World. The notes of it are so off that you can’t help but huff a relieved breath when it comes to an end, enjoying the few seconds of silence before they begin another song. 

A small groan leaves your lips when the noise starts again, catching Harry’s attention as you feel his eyes land on the side of your face. “It should be illegal to ruin great songs like this.” You shake your head to yourself, speaking your thoughts out loud in a rush of confidence. “They should get arrested for it.”

He chuckles. “You’re not wrong.”

Your eyes dart at him, meeting his. It’s hard to miss the way his irises glimmer under the moonlight. When he glances down at the lighter still in his hands you take the opportunity to really have a look at him. The proximity makes you aware of a small constellation of freckles kissing his nose, and the stubble starting to poke out the skin along his jawline. You want to blame the haziness in your mind for the thoughts of how it would feel like to have it scratching against your skin. Or how it would feel under your lips as you nibble your way all the way to his rosy lips. You want to push these away, belittle them as nothing but drunken thoughts. But you know very well it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve let yourself be entertained by them.

A pitched scream takes you out of your head. You realize there’s been a beat of silence since he’s spoken, so you clear your throat, a warmth creeping up on your neck as if he’d been able to hear your thoughts. “Do you know them?”

He shakes his head slightly. “Not really, no. They played in the pub once, Ronnie hated them.” He glances at you, corner of his lips itching upwards. “Call themselves Crystal Illusion, so there’s that.”

“Christ.” You can’t help but roll your eyes. “And here I thought it couldn’t get any worse.”

The sound of his giggle makes you look back at him, catching the sight of his dimples carving deep on his cheeks. “You’re really something, aren’t you, bunny?”

“Why do you call me that?” The question rolls of your tongue before you can even think about it. His brows raise at your question, and you decide to enjoy the rush of confidence and pick on it further. “Dunno if I’m supposed to feel offended or charmed.”

 “Don’t mean it as a tease, can tell that much.” He smiles, shrugging slightly. “You just remind me of a bunny.”

The words pique your curiosity. “How so?”

He looks back down to his lap, and if it wasn’t for the poor lighting you would be sure of the blush taking over his cheeks. “Just all cute -- could tell you were a bit reserved, and like, curious. Had your eyes wandering all around when I first saw you.” He moves his head around lightly as if to explain his point and you have to bite back a smile. “And when you were focused you’d scrunch your nose a bit. Like a bunny.”

“I’m glad you didn’t say I have big ears.” You try to humor, searching for his eyes.

He laughs, looking up at you. “I mean, now that you’ve mentioned it…”

Your gasp shifts into a giggle as you push him away playfully. “Well, if I’m a bunny...” You pause, racking your mind to think of an analogy for him, but your mind is still a bit slowed down, your thoughts taking a beat too long to catch up to your words. When you glance down to the arm that’s brushing against yours, you notice the tattoo peaking on his skin. You reach for it without thinking about it, fingers tracing the ink as you take in the drawing, his eyes follow your touch curiously. “Then you’re an eagle.” You cringe to yourself as soon as the words come out of your mouth, attempting to mask it as you breathe out a laugh.

He arches his brows, lips fluttering, trying to hold back a smile. “You think I’ll kill you?”

“Oh shit, you’re right.” You cover your face with your hand, shaking your head at yourself. “Didn’t think that one through.” Your laughs meld together for a moment, slowly dying off and giving space a comfortable silence. The only sounds being the nightly hum of cicadas and the whisper of the breeze against the branches of the trees, that and, well, the faint screams of instruments from inside the house. Looking up at him, a breath hitches when you realize the proximity of his eyes to yours. You try to tease him but when you speak your voice comes out lower than you expected, almost in a whisper,  “so you think I’m cute?”

“Course I do.” He says in a blink. “Don’t think that’s much of a secret, love.”

You chew on your bottom lip, not missing the way his eyes dart down on your face. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, wiggling his eyebrow teasingly. “Think I’m pretty?”

“I won’t inflate your ego if that’s what you want.”

“I tried.” He breathes out a laugh, eyes moving back down on your face but this time he doesn’t rush them back to yours, not hiding the intent of his gaze. For the first time, you’re glad for the background noise, afraid that if it wasn’t for it he’d be able to hear the thumping of your heart.“Can I kiss you?”

“Huh?” You blink at him, not because you didn’t hear him, but because you’re a bit taken back at the forwardness of the question.

 He moves his arm to rest on the back of the bench, turning his hand to play with the tips of your hair. “Can I kiss you, bunny?” He repeats.

You nod before you can find it in you to voice your answer, clearing your throat, “yes.”

The hand that’s not in your hair moves to caress your cheek, he takes a moment to look at you, thumb rubbing your cheek gently before he leans in. Your eyes flutter close instinctively, holding your breath in anticipation as you feel his lips on the corner of your mouth. He keeps them there for a beat before pulling back, tilting your face a little just to finally close the space between your mouths.

The kiss starts slow. Uncertain, even. His lips are soft against yours, warm breath hitting your cupid bow as he sucks in your bottom lip gently. You feel his hand cupping your jaw, sneaking behind your neck as he pulls you closer and you all but melt under his touch. Being this close you can smell the scent of his cologne mixed with the smoke of cigarettes, and something about it is so sensual you can’t help but grip on his shirt as to have something to hold on to.

You can feel yourself getting lost on his touch, shamelessly scooping to the side as you enlace your thighs for the sake of being closer to him. His hand falls on your knee, rubbing it as your tongue line on his bottom lip.

It’s the sound of the door that leads to the house sliding open that falls like a bucket of ice water on your head, reminding you of your surroundings, and that you’re not, in fact, alone with him in the garden, which means any of your friends could easily spot you if they were to walk outside.

  It’s almost like he reads your mind when you pull away from him, loosening your grasp on the material of his shirt. His lips don’t let you get far, trailing their way along your jaw until he can bite on your lobe. “Relax, petal” He whispers, pulling back to look at you as your noses brush together. “They won’t see us, even if they do they’re probably too stoned to even care.”

You let out a weak chuckle, gazing at the door where a group of people stumble their way towards the bus, voices loud as they slur incoherent words. It’s hard to see inside the house as most of the lights inside seem to be turned off, but you can tell how packed it is, bodies pressed so close together it makes you wince slightly just with the thought of being amongst them. Looking back at him, you ponder for a second before nodding. “You’re right.”

A grin paints on his face before he leans in, closing the space between you once again.

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“Still with us?” A call of your name on the mic snaps you out of your thoughts.

Looking up, you’re met with your bandmates curious eyes staring right at you and you realize you’ve probably been too lost in your own head to pay attention to the conversation in hand. Your lips part for a split second, trying to think of an answer that doesn’t give away your lack of focus but a single look at Abbey’s arched brows and you know you’ve been caught. 

You clear your throat, lips tugging on a guilty smile. “Sorry, I am now.” 

It’s hard not to let your eyes glimpse to the back of the room, where the sole reason for your distraction sits quietly on his regular spot, tucked behind his journal and doing his own thing. But you hold back the stare, knowing your moves were being watched by your friend who’s back to talking about the setlist changes for the night, and who would not be happy in the slightest to notice your wandering eyes falling on the one person she despises the most. You wonder how she’d react if she got her hands on the piece of paper burning through the back pocket of your denim shorts. 

The message was short and simple, but the connotation behind it carried a much stronger meaning to it.

Meet me in the back before the gig, want to see you. -H

You found it tucked inside your case, lying innocently on top of your bass, apparent enough so anyone who’d opened the case could’ve found it before you. Surely, no one else did, otherwise, you wouldn’t hear the end of it from the minute you’d stepped into the place. Which makes you wonder how he managed to slip in the note sneakily enough without anyone noticing it, but the curiosity is well dulled in your mind by the pounding of your heart.

To your dismay, however, you barely got a look at him throughout the rehearsal. You got to The Blue Bird later than you’d intended to, the tutoring session you had on the day ended up running later than you’d expected. So by the time you stepped through the string curtains of the pub  Harry was already tucked on the shadowy corner and everyone else was hanging by the stage waiting for you, barely giving you a second to set your bag in the dressing room.

So it’s hard for you not to stare when he gets up from his seat, walking into the lighter space of the bar with his signature smirk painted on his face. You’d just gone through the last song of your set for the second time -- an amplified version of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun (Lena insisting on repeating it after messing up on the first try). He’s holding a maroon leather jacket on his arm, along with his journal, leaving his arms bare under his Bowie tank top -- which, as he approaches the stage you notice the uneven hem on the sleeves, suggesting he might’ve cut them off himself.  His hair is running wild as usual, the fringe curling against his forehead and you chew on your lip at the thought of running your hands through it as you did not even a week ago.

He reaches to the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a pack of cigarettes as he reaches the end of the stage. “That was a great one, everybody, maybe if you keep it going we can get you a spot on that wacky show they’re premiering.” He sets the stuff he’s carrying on the stage floor, crossing his arms on top of it. “What’s it called again? ‘S like ‘gag me with a spoon’ or something like that.”

“We wouldn’t want to steal your spot again.” The words leave your lips before you can process them, for a moment forgetting you’re not alone with him so your playful tease can be easily interpreted as mocking. 

He rests the things he’s carrying on his arm on the stage floor, hoisting himself up almost effortlessly before picking them up again, walking the few steps it takes for him to stand in front of you. His lips are tugged on a shit-eating grin. “Got another feisty one in here, huh?” He crosses his arms under his chest, and you can’t help but note the way his muscles flex at the gesture, his tattoos dancing slightly on his skin. “What makes you so smug about stealing my spot? Reckon Ronnie only said he needed more chicks hanging around.”

“If that’s the case then there’s no need for you to be intimidated by a band of chicks, then.” You keep your eyes trained on his, but you can notice Abbey’s getting wider from over his shoulder. 

His lips twitch up, and you can tell he’s holding back a genuine smile as not to crack your act. “Am I intimidated now, bunny?”

“It’s what it looks like.” You shrug, now holding back your own smile.

“Maybe you need to take a better look at things then, angel.”  He starts walking backwards in the direction of the backstage. “Wouldn’t want any more misunderstandings, would we?”

“Don’t think we would.” 

And with that, he turns around, walking the rest of the way out and disappearing as he rounds the corner to where you know it’s the door leading to the back alleyway. You just stand there quietly for a moment, following his steps as you try to recollect what just happened. For the two of you, it was clear that the tension was the product of an unspoken want circling around, but you question for a second if that’s the impression that your friends had. And as you look at their expressions, raised brows and mouths agape, it’s hard to tell.

“Holy shit, babe.” Abbey is the first to speak out. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”

You hold back a relieved exhale, shrugging slightly as you remove the strap of the bass from your shoulder. “He was just getting on my nerves.” You face away from her, placing the instrument on the stand.

The anticipation of meeting Harry grows impatiently on your stomach as you try to find a gap where no one’s attention is on you to sneak out of the dressing room. It seems as if every time you think you can do it, someone pulls you in, either to try to push you another pill of something you’re not sure what it is or to ask you to help with their makeup. But as the room gets filled and people get higher, their focus become more diffuse, and finally, after finishing assisting Jaz with her eyeliner (her hands were too shaky to get it right) you manage to slip out the room into the corridor.

There’s a sense of recognition that takes over your body when you feel the wind messing with your hair as you step out the building to be met with Harry’s figure leaning back on the wall, not too far from the spot you found him the last time you’d been in this same position. His eyes shoot in your direction as soon as you step through the door as if he’d been waiting for this just as eagerly as you were. He quickly throws the butt of the cigarette on the floor, stepping on it before standing tall as you slowly approach him.

“Hi.” You say simply, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shorts -- not knowing with to do with your hands.

“Hi.” His grin grows. “Came back here to intimidate me?” He teases, biting on his bottom lip.

“Actually,” you scrunch your lips, deciding to play his game as you reach on your back pocket, retrieving the small piece of paper and holding it up. “Got this very desperate note from a secret admirer but I don’t see any hotties here.” You click your tongue, looking around as you let out a loud sigh. “Guess it might be just a misunderstanding.”

He laughs, hands reaching for your waist to draw you closer. “That’s too bad, guess you’re stuck with me”

“Yeah?” You wrap your arms around his shoulders, stepping closer so that your chests meet and his forehead falls against yours.

He nods in response, your noses brushing gently before he leans to meet your mouth with his own.

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

There’s a thrilling feeling that settles deep within you when it comes to holding a secret.

It’s that spark of excitement that brings a kaleidoscope of butterflies to come alive on your stomach. The kind of feeling that makes every cell of your body feel not just simply alive but as if it’s burning with joy. Which is why you guess falling into a routine of sneaking around with Harry on secret little rendezvous was so easy, to begin with. 

Of course, your friends’ opinions are important to you, but you know that you’re an adult very much capable of making your own decisions. That means sleeping with anyone you’d like despite their ill opinions about the person, without having to sneak around as if you’re teenagers hiding from your parents. You know that, and you try to remind yourself of that every time you catch yourself lying to them about your whereabouts at every coming day. 

In the beginning, you weren’t even sure that there was anything to it except for a couple of innocent kisses, maybe some not-so-innocent touches here and there, but nothing really worth even telling anyone. You’d only really see Harry on the weekends. When he would steal moments with you before your gigs when you “had to take a breather”. Or when mysteriously disappeared from your friends’ sides during after parties after they already had their minds buzzed and noses backed up. Or even when your night walks would tart becoming gradually longer due to your curiosity getting the best of you once you found yourself in front of the familiar Pub on Harry’s nights.

The weekends’ escapades took a different turn when they graduated to weekdays. Things took a quick turn then. It started with him offering you a ride to the houses for your tutoring or to the library (stealing kisses every now and then, of course). And before you knew, you were making up classes or books to rent for your oblivious roommates, only to spend hours on Harry’s car. Coming back with puffy lips and messy hair.

Part of you felt bad for going behind their backs, every now and then feeling an urge to pull Lena aside and gush about him for as long as your heart desired.

But it’s the thrill of it, of having something that’s just yours to have, that no one else knows except the two of you. The adrenaline that comes with the possibility of getting caught at any moment, but being able to get away with it. It’s almost addicting to you, so you prefer to have these moments just to yourself.

As the days went by, and those days turned into weeks, and those weeks turned into months, it just made it harder for you to tell them you’d been hiding a whole relationship for this amount of time. Well, not exactly a relationship, but as close as you ever got to one anyway.

And it’s not like you’d never had anyone before. Being in the music scene, you’ve had your quite a few amounts of flings — even though not as many as it’s expected. But no one has ever left you as enamored as him, especially not as quickly as he has. He’s intriguing, carrying around that mysterious aura around him that leaves everyone wondering the secrets he holds in his heart. 

Although when it’s just the two of you it’s like this cocky persona of him completely dissolves. It’s a complete contrast from the image he carries around the restless mouths of prying people. He’s not that enigmatic heartbreaker who hops around strangers beds as if to live that classic Rock ‘n Roll lifestyle you see on TV. Rather, he’s shown himself to be the most caring man you’ve ever been with.

And that’s how you found yourself in this position, your body awkwardly positioned on your side in the rear seat of his car. A hand tangled on his hair while the other pulls at his Bowie shirt, you know your lips are probably starting to get swollen and his are taking a raspberry tone from the way they’d been sucking at one another. So with that in mind, you part from his mouth, trailing kisses along his cheek, and a final one at his nose before sitting back on the seat.

Just as you predicted his rose-colored lips are plump as he grins back at you, his locks are wild on top of his head. His hair has grown around his jawline now, curls poking out in all directions and you can’t help but reach your hand to pull his fringe back from his forehead. His smile growing fondly and eyes fluttering shut as you run your hand through his strands. 

When you pull away you catch a glimpse of your wrist clock, cringing slightly at yourself as you realize you should start thinking of heading home.

“I have to go soon.” You let your hand fall to your lap with a sigh.

“Already?” He pouts. “Barely had any time together.”

“We’ve been here for two hours, silly.” You giggle at his dramatics, leaning to press your lips on his chin.

He throws an arm over your shoulder, keeping you close. “Exactly, barely any time.”

He turns his head to connect your mouths once more before pulling you against him so your head rests on his shoulder. You look beyond the glass of the windshield to the nearly empty street -- saving from a few people walking back from what you assume is a day of work

He’s parked on the usual spot two blocks away from your house, and from this angle, you can see the front gate that leads to the entrance. The front seat of the coupe still folded forward as there was no reason to set it back to place considering the circumstance in which you were on the backseat. You had called home from the payphone in front of the library, letting Lena know you’d be home late to catch up with some studies -- another lie to your pile.

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between the two of you -- apart from the low voice of the radio Dj interrupting A-ha’s Take On Me in the background. If you move your head just right you can hear his speeding heartbeat, and if wasn’t for the faltering on his breathing you’d assume he was just as relaxed as you are. You move away from him, his arm falling around your waist, looking at his profile as he pokes at his jeans, a crease between his eyebrows.

You rest your cheek against the leather seat, grasping his chin with your fingers and gently moving his head so his gaze meets yours. “What’s on your mind, handsome?”

He breathes out a laugh, shrugging lightly as he brings his hand to scratch at the tip of his nose. “Nothing much.”

“But there’s something.” You insist, being able to tell he’s pondering over something.

“It’s just-- I just thought--” he pauses with a sigh. You play with the rings on his fingers, waiting patiently for him to express his thoughts, you can tell he’s a bit nervous which is an adorable change from his regular charming demeanor. “I wanted to maybe-- like, we could have a date.”

. 

You straighten your posture, lips parting as you take in his words. “A date?”

“Yeah… A proper one, you know?” He shrugs, eyes darting back on yours. “If you want to, that is! Don’t wanna pressure you or anything.”

“I do, H.” You nod, chewing on your lip as you try to recollect your thoughts. It’s not as if you don’t want to go on a date with him, that couldn’t be further from the truth. But turning it into a formality just changes completely the scheme of things and, as much as you felt like this is an inevitable step to take at some point, you still feel protective to an extent of this secret you have between the two of you. So you can help but let your voice come a little apologetic, “it’s just--”

“I know.” His shoulders drop and you can’t help but feel a tug at your heart.

“Hey.” You caress his cheek. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay.” His lips perk up in a small smile, and you lean forward to give him a peck.

He’s still looking at you with puppy-like eyes and it does nothing to help the heaviness in your heart from turning him down. You lean again this time to spread kisses around his cheek as an attempt to pull a giggle out of him, but you only earn a light chuckle so you seat back tilting your head to look at him with a pluck of your lips. “C’mon where’s my smug rockstar gone?”

“He’s right here.” The shadow of his dimples appears on his cheeks. His voice comes out low and gentle, as if he’s still pondering over what you said earlier, “just toned him down a bit.”

You sigh, trying to rack your brain to another subject that can distract him from it. You catch sight of the slightly smudged end of his eyeliner, and your face lights up as you remember a request you’ve always wanted to bring it up. “Do you want to know something?” Biting back a cheeky grin, you cross your arms under your chin as he looks at you with raised eyebrows. “Should let me do your makeup, so you can be a proper rockstar.”

He lets out a laugh. “Do I need that, now?”

“Mhm, said it yourself, it’s part of the look.”

“Did I say that?” You nod, teeth still biting on your lip. He lets out a breath, contemplating the idea for a second before looking back at you. “Okay then.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Course, could never say no to you even if I tried.” He lets his hand fall on your thigh, rubbing it gently. “On one condition, though.” You arch your brows in question. “Come to my gig tomorrow.”

You face scrunches in confusion. “I always go to your gigs.”

“Yeah but I mean go earlier, like so we can hang out before and stuff.” His finger starts to draw circles on your knee. “So you can do my makeup, too, can go on stage looking all pretty.”

“As if you could ever look anything less than pretty.” You say before sitting back, thinking of his proposal. “You’re asking me to be there early…”

“What? D’you have plans already? Got a boyfriend I don’t know about?” And there it is, the teasing Harry you know.

You shake your head, poking his side playfully. “Oh yeah, maybe I should’ve mentioned him sooner.”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes before looking at you, his voice coming down to a pleading tone. “Come, please.”

Before the yes can roll off your tongue you remember that you wouldn’t be alone with him. “What about your band?” 

He furrows his brows. “What about them?”

“Well, do they know?”

“They couldn’t care less about us, baby.” He sighs, head falling back on the seat as he moves his hand so it rests on your inner thigh, rubbing a spot in there. “Have no meaning hiding you.”

You can’t hold back the smile that grows on your lips, leaning to press a kiss to his mouth before letting professing in just above a whisper, “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“‘S poking my eye.”

“Shh, quiet.”

“You’re rubbing it too harsh.” Harry grabs your wrist, eyes fluttering open to stare up at you.

“I’m being gentle, you’re just not used to the feeling of the brush.” You argue, keeping a finger under his chin so his head is tilted upwards as you shuffle on his lap. “Now close your eyes, I’m almost done.”

He lets out a huff, trying to feign annoyance, but the slight twitch of his lips and the subtle appearance of his dimples break his facade. You know as much as he won’t admit to it, he’s quite enjoying having you propped on his lap, fingers stroking gently his eyelids while you hum along to The Cure’s record that’s mixing with the murmurs of the other people in the room.

To your surprise, you’ve come to realize that the dressing room is significantly less chaotic when it comes to Harry’s band. The place is not nearly as packed as it can get during your nights, in fact, apart from the band itself, there’s only a handful of people hanging around. And as much as you notice their bloated pupils and stumbled walks, they mostly keep it to themselves, sharing around a bottle of vodka to wash down their pills.

Like Harry had assured you, his bandmates couldn’t be less bothered by your presence amongst them. And as much as you recognize all from the numerous gig you’ve been in before, and that according to them your name has been frequently mentioned by Harry himself (which did make his cheeks turn into an adorable shade of red), it’s nice to be formally introduced to them. In fact, they were so quick to treat you as one of their own that you could feel a slightly guilty feeling expanding on your chest from the number of times you’d heard your friends bad mouthing them in attempts to joke around. 

You swallowed the feeling back, though, accepting a plastic cup they poured with champagne (which you learned is a tradition before gigs) and making a conversation.

“Are you done yet?” You feel the vibration of his voice on that back of your fingers that touch against his throat.

“Yes,” you say with a final stroke of your brush on his eyes, sitting back to admire your work with your teeth carved on your bottom lip. “You can open your eyes, baby.”

He blinks his eyes open and you can’t help the smile that breaks through your lips as you examine the contrast of the burning red eyeshadow with his jade irises as he looks back at you. “How do I look?” 

You grab his cheeks, leaning down to press a quick peck on his lips. “Like a proper rockstar.”

“Yeah?” He grins once you let your hands caress on the smooth skin of his chest poking through his unbuttoned blue blouse. “Think I can finally get some groupies now?”

Scoffing, you swing your hand to shove him back playfully with a roll of your eyes. You try to move away but he grabs hold of your wrists, pulling you in again. “You’re insufferable.”

“Just how you like it.” His hands fall to your waist, bringing it closer as you let your arms wrap around his shoulders. 

His lips meet your on a slow kiss, allowing you to taste the strawberry flavor of the lipstick you’d applied earlier, the thought of messing it completely lost in your mind as you tilt your head to deepen it even more. His fingers now grip on your hips over your denim skirt that has ridden up considerably since you first propped yourself on his lap. For a moment you just stay like this, tangled on each other’s arms, every so often you scratch on his neck, pulling his hair just a bit so you can swallow the most delicious mewls.

He parts from you as slowly as the kiss started, pecking on your lips a couple of times before letting his head fall back, hands moving to rub at your thighs over your pink tights. His eyes are hooded as he looks up at you with a smirk, voice coming low as if he’s sharing a secret just between the two of you, “can we go to the back?”

“Sure.” You unstranddle him, adjusting your skirt as you stand up and offering your hands to help him to his feet. He takes them, almost bringing you back down on the couch as he pulls a little bit too hard. 

Once he’s up he takes a look at himself on the mirror in the wall opposite to the couch, a pleased smile on his face letting you know he likes the result of your work. He reaches for your hand then, guiding you into the hallway and out the back door you’ve become so familiar with.

Walking into the alleyway, he walks to his usual spot, leaning back on the wall and pulling you with him. His hands easily find their place on your waist once again, fingers tapping against the fabric of your skirt anxiously. Looking down at you, there’s anticipation on his eyes, as if he’s trying to tell you something but is waiting for you to bring it up.

“So,” he begins, eyes darting around as he parts his legs a bit, enough to fit you between them as he pulls you closer.

“So…” You say, drifting off as a way to encourage him to keep going.

“I’ve thought about the date thing.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his har. “Wasn’t I the one that was supposed to be doing that?”

 He shrugs slightly, looking down to where his fingers fiddle with a loose strand of your vest. There’s something very endearing about seeing him so nervous, a complete opposite to how he carries himself in public, as this cocky and confident guy. You’re grateful that he allows you to see this side of him, though, bringing your hand to caress his jawline as you wait him to speak his thoughts. “Yeah, but I had like, an idea, or whatever.”

“Do tell.”

“I thought we could do--” he shakes his head a bit. “We could go to a place that’s still more reserved, and stuff.” 

“Like?”

“I dunno, I--” he chews on his lip, a habit he’s starting to get from you. “Thought we could go to my flat and like hang out, we could go to that diner that has a drive tru and get something to eat and go back to my place.” 

“Are you trying to take me home, Styles?” You tease, not being able to hold back a smile.

“It’s not like that, I just--” he huffs, cheeks getting a bit flushed as he tries to explain himself. “Just if you’re comfortable with it, of course, we can still go around on my car if you prefer, I don’t mind.”

“Harry?” You hold his cheek, moving it so his eyes can meet yours. Rubbing your thumb against his smooth skin, you try to soothe him, shooting him a fond smile.  “I think that’s a really nice idea.”

“Yeah?” You don’t miss the way his eyes light up. “Is that a yes, then?”

“Of course.”

“Cool, I can, like, call you before I leave home so you can go to our spot and I can pick you up, yeah?” It’s the fastest he’s speaking since the moment you walked out of the building, voice a pitch higher. “How about Friday?

“Great.” You giggle, tangling your fingers on his hair to pull him down so his forehead rests against yours. Lips brushing, you blink up at him, jade eyes flickering around your face, “I can’t wait.”

He smiles. “Me too.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

An annoyed puff leaves your lips as you notice another typo in one of the words inked in the paper poking out of the typewriter. You grab it maybe a bit too forcefully, this being the fourth time in a matter of minutes you had to do this. Taking it out of the platen, you reach for the whiteout conveniently prompted next to you, carefully correcting the error before putting the paper back on the machine.

With the end of the term peeking around the corner, you’ve been finding yourself in this position more often than not. Either rushing with your essays or grading assignments from your students. No matter what the arrangement is, however, there’s always a guarantee to have a half-empty mug of coffee and a pile of textbooks spattered on your desk. 

This time around is no different, as you lean back on your chair, closing your eyes and rubbing your hands over your face, you try to focus on Cyndi Lauper singing in the background as a way to relieve your stress. You can feel the inkling of a headache deep inside your forehead, indicating maybe it’s time to give yourself a break, So, you try your best to relax the tension out of your muscles, breathing in the soft chamomile scent of the burning candle on your nightstand -- it’s one Lena gave to you to help with the stress a few days ago. What disturbs you from your moment of meditation with Time After Time, making you snap out of your breathing exercise, is the ringing tone of the telephone echoing through the house. The sound comes into your room a bit muffled thanks to your closed door, but it’s still enough to irritate you.

You hear closely to the sounds outside your door, waiting for Lena, who you know is propped on the couch downstairs watching TV, to pick up the call and cease the annoying tune interrupting your moment. And as you predict, in just a few minutes the ringing noise stops as quickly as it started, making you relax back on your chair. Closing your eyes again, you let yourself go back to the moment before the interruption, untensing your shoulders. You can hear the pound of heavy footsteps coming up the wooden staircase, but don’t process them getting closer until your door swings open.

Lena is standing in your doorway with an expression that’s hard to read at first, her brows set on a slight frown her hairline and mouth agape. Before you can tell her off for her sudden entrance she’s already speaking, “can you tell me why the fuck Harry Styles is calling our house looking for you?”

You can feel your heartbeat falter at her words, eyes widening as you glance at your bunny-shaped clock and realizing you had gotten so lost in your studies you forgot about the date. “Shit,” you get up so fast from your chair it falls back on the rug. You turn to Lena, who’s watching the scene with the most amused smirk on her face, “is he still one the line?”

As soon as she nods you’re stumbling down the stairs, almost falling down on the last steps but catching yourself up on the railing. You reach for the wired phone lying upwards on the hallway stand, picking it up and walking into the closest door - which happens to be the coat closet - closing it behind you.

“Hello?” You sound out of breath, heartbeat roaring in your ear.

“Did I fuck it up?” His voice is hesitant, nearly remorseful, it makes your heart drop.

“I-- no, you didn’t.” You reassure, leaning back on the wall of the tiny space, instantly regretting your decision of not choosing the restroom in your panic state.  “I just got caught up with an essay and didn’t see the time passing.”

“Do you want to reschedule?” He drags out the words as if he doesn’t want to say them. “We can do this another day, I don’t mind.”

“No!” You protest quickly, reaching back to roughly adjust a hanger that’s poking on your neck, causing a raincoat to fall on your feet. “Of course not, I really need a break, anyway. I want to see you.”

“Want to see you, too.” You can hear the smile on his voice. “What about your friend?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple slightly. “I’ll talk to her, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.” He says. “I’ll be at yours in around fifteen, is that good?”

“That’s perfect, yes.”

“I’ll see you in a bit then…” He drifts off, as if he wants to say something else, but stops himself.

“See you.”

The familiar sound of the deadline takes place and you sigh, letting your head fall back on the wall with a thump and staying like that for a moment. When you step out of the closet, the first thing you see is Lena leaning against the railing of the stairs, shaking her head at you in disbelief. “You bitch.”

Your shoulders drop, not wanting to have this conversation right now, as you put the phone back on the base. “Can we not do this--”

“You’ve been fucking him all this time and you didn’t tell me?” She crosses her arms under her breasts. “Abbey is gonna throw a fit when she knows this.”

“You’re not gonna tell her.”

“I’m not.” She agrees with you. “But she already knows you’re sneaking out with someone.”

“She does?” Your voice gets higher, eyes widening slightly.

“She might be high as a kite most of the time, yes, but she’s not stupid.” She chuckles. “And you’re not the best at hiding either, or you thought we wouldn’t notice you’re barely at home anymore?”

You frown your mouth, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. “Does she suspect that it’s him?”

“Not really no, thought it was one of your students.”

You can’t help the horrified look that takes over your face. “I tutor children!”

“Ooh,” she breathes out a laugh. “Well, to be fair, he’s probably the last person she would suspect.”

“She’s gonna kill me.”

“Probably.” She shrugs. “But she’ll just have to get over it.”

“I guess.”

Lena looks at you, dropping her arms as she walks to you. Holding into your shoulders, her expression softens. “Don’t worry about this right now, okay? Go get ready for your date.”

“You’re right.”  You sigh, nodding. It takes you a second, but as you process her words, you frown, squinting your eyes at her. “How do you know we have a date right now?”

Her hands drop, mouth scrunching as she waves her hands around. “I just guessed.”

“Were you listening on the line?’

“Of course not!” She steps away.

“Adeline!”

She backs away, reaching the bottom of the stairs with the guiltiest look you’ve ever seen splattered on her face. “It was just a bit of it! I was curious!”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I’m gonna cut the cord of that phone in your room.”

“No, you’re not.” 

Raising your eyebrows in challenge, you take a careful step in her direction, causing her to go up another step. There’s a beat of silence where you two just stare at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. When you finally give in, racing towards the staircase, she stumbles up the rest of the steps, the sound of your giggles mixing together taking over the space.

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

There’s an instant sense of comfort when you see Harry’s lime green Ford parked on your usual spot, one that gives an extra pep to your walk, pushing all the stress you’ve been dwelling with to the back of your mind. And as you relax into the leather seat, windows down and radio up, you let yourself enjoy the anticipation of spending the rest of your day with him that settles deep in your stomach. 

You’d always wondered what Harry’s apartment would look like, imagining his LP���s splattered across the place, along with loose papers filled with guitar riffs and song lyrics. Maybe a couple of plants here and there, from what he told you he had tried to take care of one or two before, but always ended up forgetting to water them on schedule. And there’s also a notion inside of you that two young men living together in an apartment are bound to live in somewhat of a nest, so you brace yourself for the piles of beer cans and video game wires tangling on the floor.

When he opens the front door for you, letting you walk in before him, it does surprise you to find a tidier place than you’d expected his living room to be, but you realize you’d not been much far off with your assumption. It’s clear this is a house of musicians from the second you step in, the first sight being two guitars leaning on the wall next to the mud green couch, surrounded by - you guessed it - loose papers, which you assume are filled with scribbled ideas. A wall piano also stands out across the room, a single ashtray standing on top of it next to two candles, where you assume comes the faint scent of vanilla comes from.

“Sorry about the mess,” Harry speaks out from behind you, shrugging out of his usual denim jacket and throwing it over the couch arm, looking back at you with his hands on his hips.

“It’s alright.” Your teeth sink on your bottom lip as you take in the sight of him. Without his jacket, he’s left with just a wine-colored half-buttoned blouse, sleeves rolled up to his elbows so some of his tattoos are exposed. Part of the hem is tucked inside his low waist jeans that hug his thighs so perfectly it makes you want to grip your nails on it. Shaking your head, lightly, you let your eyes wander around the room once more, so he doesn’t notice you gawking at him. “Was expecting worse, to be honest.”

“Do you think that little of me?” He feigns offense.

You giggle, taking a lazy step towards him, shrugging. “I just don’t expect two young men to know the basic of cleaning, that’s all.”

“That’s fair,” he chuckles, taking a moment to just look at you. When a silence settles between the two of you, you raise your brows at him, waiting for him to make the first move. He clears his throat, running his hand through his hair. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Sure!” You nod. “Do you have, like, beer or…”

“Yes, yes I--” he stops, face lighting up in realization. “No wait, I have something better.” He strides towards a door to where you assume the kitchen is, calling over his shoulder, “make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back!”

You laugh to yourself, shaking your head as you pull your purse off your shoulder, letting it rest beside Harry’s jacket on the couch. Glancing over your shoulder, there are no signs of him coming back, so you take the opportunity to snoop around the area. 

There’s a small center table in front of the couch, probably the messiest part of the room so far, a few movie magazines splattered around with another ashtray lying on top of it, a few butts of cigarettes long forgotten along with their ashes. Next to it, is a VHS cover of </i> Ghostbusters, a rental receipt paper scrambled on top of it. What calls your attention is a couple of cassette tapes, some with titles you recognize from being Harry’s songs scribbled on top of them but others don’t have a label, which leads you to assume they must be blank. 

You walk around the table, gazing to the tv stand, where a poster of Freud is stuck on the wall behind it -- and breathing out a laugh as you notice someone had drawn glasses and colored his beard with a red sharpie. A bookshelf stands next to it, completely filled with records (apart from a single succulent that has a piece of paper with the name “Ziggy” glued to it). Your curiosity gets the best of you, picking up some LPs on random and what does surprise you, is the lack of a common theme between them. Finding a bit of everything, from some very recognizable names you’ve seen Harry rock to, like Billy Joel and The Clash, to some you’d never even heard him speak of like Culture Club and even a brand new Madonna record.

You have just picked up the cover of Ladies of the Canyon when his voice startles you from behind. “Mitchell, huh?”

Turning back with the record still in hands, you look down at it. “I love her.” You glance up, taking notice of the glasses in his hand, filled with a liquid of a yellow so bright it reminds you of a highlighter. “What’s this?”

“This,” he hands you a glass. “Is a drink we made.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “You made this?”

 “I’m a man of many talents, bunny.”

“It looks like poison.” You bring the glass up to your nostrils, taking in the strong scent of alcohol. “Am I going to be poisoned? Is this a big plan to get rid of your rival’s bassist?”

“Stop being silly.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s mainly pineapple and vodka, takes weeks to be done, proper fancy stuff, you know?”

“Oh yeah super fancy.” You tease, chewing on your bottom lip to hold back a smile.“Pineapple and vodka.”

“Shut up and drink it.” He says, watching you carefully as you slowly bring the brim of the glass to your lips, taking a small sip of it. An instant sweet taste of pineapple invading your tastebuds, but the vodka is so present it makes you scrunch your nose. Harry gives you a small smile, eyes trained on you as he waits for your verdict, “so…”

“It’s strong.” Your face is still a bit rumpled from the alcohol, but you relax it eventually taking another sip of it, this time quite more prepared for it. “But it’s good, tastes like pineapple and vodka, who would say?”

“Shut up.” He chuckles, taking a step back and propping himself down on the couch.

With the record still in hands, you turn to put it back where you found it, admiring the full bookshelf once more. “Got a nice collection here, Styles, I gotta admit.”

He sips on his drink. “Found something you fancy in there?”

“A couple.”

“Put on something you like.” He motions to the record player standing next to the shelf. You look through the vast collection again, picking some at random and putting it back once you realize it’s not what you’re looking for. After going through a few, you finally stumble upon Elton John’ Madman Across The Water, holding it up to show it to Harry. “Oh, so we’re in one of those moods?”

You pull the vinyl from the sleeve, carefully placing it on the player and adjusting the needle over it. As the beginning note of Tiny Dancer float through the room, you look back at him. “What mood?”

 “Like, a happy-sad kind of mood.”

You nod, setting yourself on the couch next to him. “That’s a nice way to put it.”

As the first few songs swim in the air around there’s a light chatter that settles between the two of you. Nothing out of your ordinary conversations, mainly consisting of you gushing over John Taylor as Harry rolls his eyes and sips on his drink to mask the drop of jealousy that grows on his chest -- “He’s not that good looking, you lot should have better standards” he said with a huff, making you giggle at his antics and pinch his cheeks. But it doesn’t take long, barely going halfway through the record, until the two of you begin to feel more lightheaded, eyes glossy and tongues getting looser. You should’ve expected that from the very first sip of the drink in your hand, knowing it wouldn’t take much more than a glass of it to get you right boozed up. And it doesn’t help that which each sip of it the sweetness of the pineapple takes over the strong taste of the alcohol, and in a matter of a few songs, you already feel your mind soaring away.

Harry is not much different, you realize, becoming quite a bit of a giggly drunk as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes and slurred words coming out of his mouth (which only makes him laugh more at himself). From what he told you, it hasn’t been the first time he and Mitch attempted on making the drink themselves. They tried it at a cramped bar right outside a Tears For Fears concert and it had gotten them so knackered so quickly they went back the next day to ask the barman (who also happened to be the owner) what was it in. Turns out it was just watermelon and vodka, but the man also explained that the technique he used that took about two weeks for the drink to be ready. From the man’s explanation, it seemed simple enough so they decided to try it for themselves, except they replaced the watermelon with pineapple.

“Just to add a bit of fun to it.” He shimmies his body.

“Is it like the original, though?” 

“‘S close, but not quite his.” He hiccups. “I’m convinced he left out some of the details, the bastard, didn’t want to go around giving out the secret formula of it.”

You giggle, biting into the brim of your glass. “I’m curious to try it with watermelon, now that you’ve mentioned.”

“You have to, bunny!” His head falls back on the couch, dimples so deep you want to bite into them, his hand strokes lazily on your thigh, every now and then moving up to rub at the hem of your playsuit. “I’ll take you there sometime, we can get baked and crash into a concert at the music house that’s right in front of it.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

When the blue of the sky outside begins to fade into a golden glow, ribbons of pink and orange cutting through it, you’re already completely far gone. The record player is now only letting out a faint buzz from the lack of sound now that the LP is over. Your head is filled with clouds and you don’t register when Harry reaches back for the guitar, only really registering it once he’s stringing out a familiar melody. He stumbles with the lyrics but as soon as you recognize the beginning line of </i> Big Yellow Taxi you’re joining him, your voices tangling in a high pitch as you more of scream the lines than really bother to sing it. Harry gets completely lost in it, and you let him take over every so often just to watch him, mimicking Joni Mitchell's voice and even enacting her laugh, which makes you laugh until your belly hurts and your cheeks get flushed.

It’s one of those moments you want to get locked in, to live in it forever. Watching him stumbling the lyrics of different songs, the words tumbling out of his mouth between giggles, fingers stroking the cord of the guitar maybe a bit too harshly as you join him without a care in the world to who may be bothered by it. You feel so free with him, it’s a feeling that takes over your whole body, a warmth of knowing you don’t have to filter yourself or fit any type of expectation. And as he ends another cover with violent strokes on the guitar you laugh along with him for a moment before letting the room quiet down. Crossing your arms over the back of the couch and resting your cheek against it, you just look at him.

His bloodshot green meets yours, his chest rising as he catches his breath from the frantic songs, teeth sinking on his bottom lip as he smiles at you. “Gonna slow down a bit fo’ you.”

You raise your brows at him, smiling in anticipation as he begins to smooth his fingers through the cords much more gently than he had been previously. His head moves along to the beat as he gazes down at the instrument, a slight crease forming between his eyebrows in concentration. It’s a complete contrast from the playful demeanor that had taken over the room just minutes ago.

“Love of my life, you’ve hurt me.” He begins, and your ears instantly perk up as you identify the same song you’d heard him play months ago at the pub, the one that made you enter it to watch him for the first time. “You’ve broken my heart and now you leave me.”

It’s much different now, however, not just from the fact that he’s singing it on his own without the band backing him up. But it’s the meaning behind it, the rawness of his voice, low and slightly raspy, the words still come out a bit mumbled but you couldn’t care less about it, only focusing on the emotion he puts to them. 

“Love of my life, can’t you see?” His eyes are still set on the guitar and you search for them almost desperately, shifting closer to him and cupping his cheek, guiding him to meet your gaze. “Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me.”

The swell in your heart is overwhelming to an extent, his glossy eyes looking into your with such sincerity it makes you want to jump on him, but you hold back as he keeps going, feeling nearly hypnotized by his voice.

“Because you don’t know, what it means to me.” He leans into your touch, turning to press a quick kiss on your palm as he keeps stroking the chords in a quiet melody. “Love of my life, don’t leave me.”

You can’t help but shake your head slightly as he sings the lyric almost like a plea. “You’ve stolen my love, and now desert me.” He looks back down at the guitar, letting your hand fall to his shoulder. “Love of my life, can’t you see?”

“Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me.” Peeking under his lashes, he grins up at you, and you can only imagine how you must look to him. Mouth slightly agape, barely blinking as you’re scared if you do this will all turn out to be nothing but a dream. His voice comes out next a bit lower, stretching out the words, “Because you don’t knoow.”

He strokes the chords a bit mindlessly now, playing with the sound of the melody, and he does it so effortlessly you almost hold your breath as not to miss it. “What it means to me.”

When he stops, you don’t really think before latching yourself on him, throwing one leg on each side of his thighs, and cupping his face before meeting his mouth with yours. He immediately wraps an arm around your back, his other hand taking the guitar off his lap and blindly placing it against the wall next to the couch. Once the instrument is no longer a barrier, he places his hands on your hips, pulling you closer. You can taste the memory of a pineapple still lingering on his tongue as you lick into his mouth. The kiss is hungry, maybe a bit sloppy thanks to the substance still very much present in your bloodstreams, but you don’t mind, only moving a hand to tangle on his hair, scratching at his scalp before pulling at his roots. 

A whimper escapes from his mouth, getting lost inside your throat, his grip on your thighs tightens, nails digging in it and you know will leave crescent shapes on your skin. It only makes you do it again, this time his head tilting backward with a small groan, disconnecting your lips, but you’re soon to connect it again, splattering kisses along his jawline until it meets his neck. When you suck on his pulse point, running your tongue over it, his skin vibrates on your lips as he lets out a whine. His hands are now running all over your thighs before resting on top of your ass, bringing your hips to grind against his.

Even with your hazed mind, it’s still hard to miss the very prominent bulge under his jeans. It makes you pull back, looking down to see it straining against his zipper. There’s a flip of a switch inside of you when you realize how much he’s yearning for it, it’s the desire you’ve been pushing back for months now, crashing into you like a wave and you can barely contain a small mewl at the sight.

“Bunny.” He breathes out. When you look back to him, you notice his eyes have darkened considerably. “We don’t have to--”

“Please.” You let your forehead fall against his, rolling your hips again, stealing another whimper from him. “If you want to, I want to.”

“I do -- fuck, I do.” He nods as you keep grinding on him, his hand disappearing on your back pocket, trying to get as closer to you as possible.

When you meet his lips again, the kiss is somehow eager than before. The longing is evident as you grab onto each other. Your hands travel down his chest, nails digging softly on his exposed skin, and once you feel the fabric of his shirt, you’re quickly to undo the rest of the buttons, not disconnecting from him as you do so. Smoothing your hands back up to his shoulders, you help him shrug off the material, letting it fall to the couch without paying mind to it.

“Wait,” he sneaks between kisses, hands coming up to your waist you push you off gently.

You watch with your brows narrowed as he gets up from the couch, walking to his shelf and standing in front of it, looking for something. Leaning to your side, you let yourself admire the muscles of his back as his fingers run through the edges of the records. It’s impressive how even though his collection takes over the whole furniture, he still seems to know exactly where to look for it, focusing on a small section right at the top. He quickly finds what he’s looking for, pulling it with a ‘Aha!’ before turning back to you. 

He holds up a very familiar black cover, the imprint of Queen’s Greatest Hits instantly calling your attention. Doing the same as you’d done earlier, he takes out the disk, placing it on the player before adjusting the needle over it. You watch it with a smile teasing on your lips, finding oddly endearing how he made you pull away from him with the sole purpose of putting on a soundtrack -- making notice to put on something you’d like, as well. He cranks up the volume as the first words of Bohemian Rhapsody start to swallow your thoughts, turning back to you and offering his hand with a cheeky grin painted on his face.

Taking his hold, you let him pull you up from the couch and, before you can really register it, he’s guiding you through the hallway. You stumble on your footing as he rushes a bit to fast for you to really wrap your head around it, the walls of the corridor passing by almost in a blur as it takes your mind a beat too long to catch up with your eyes. Still, your giggles dance along with his all the way to his door at the end of it, making you feel like a couple of teens sneaking out for the first time.

He doesn’t give you a single minute to take notice of his room -- not that you would at this moment, your arousal pooling at your underwear only enhancing the haziness of your mind. In just a speck of a second, he’s already pushing the door closed, your body being pressed against it not long after. His arms find their place on each side of your head, his lips searching hungrily for yours as your fingers find their home between the strands of his hair once more. 

“Shit, need you so bad, baby.” he presses his hips against yours, mouth hot as he sucks in the skin of your jaw, all the way down your neck, finding a spot that makes you whine under his touch. “That’s it, darling, let me hear you again.”

“Harry,” you mewl as his teeth sink on your skin gently, his tongue swiping quickly over the spot before he trails back to your cheek. You melt under his touch when his hands find their way back on your body, one of them caressing the side of your breast softly, thumb poking out to rub the spot where you nipple pebbles under your layers of clothing. This brings out a desperate whimper from your throat, your head falling back on the door as you close your eyes, trying to savor every slight touch of his. “Please.”

“Look so fucking pretty in this piece, bunny.” The sound of his voice is right below your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin making the hairs on your neck rise. “Look gorgeous in anythin”” he turns his head to bite at your earlobe. “But I really need it gone right now.”

Your eyes snapback open when you feel him pull back from you, his hands finding the front buttons of your playsuit, fiddling them open so easily you barely register it. His lips are back on yours, this time slower, letting his desire be known at every brush of his tongue. Smoothing his hands on your shoulders, he helps you out of the sleeves of the top. As soon as your back is disconnected from the wooden door, you start moving forward before you can really think about it, pushing him back gently until the back of his knees hit the mattress and he’s sitting back on the bed.

There’s hardly a speck of green left on his darkened irises when he looks up at you, watching your every move as you shift the material down your body, letting it pool on your feet before you kick it to the side. Taking a slow step towards him, his hands holding onto your hips almost unconsciously, you reach back to find the hook of your bra, but he stops you before you can even quite grasp it. “Wait,” he pulls you closer, making you fall a bit awkwardly on his lap, your hands moving to grip on his shoulder for support. “Let me.”

You adjust your position on top of him, your knees resting next to his thighs, as he handily unhooks your bra, removing it quickly from your arms and tossing it to the side. A gasp escapes your mouth as he wastes no time before attaching his mouth to your breast, tongue circling on your nipple before sucking in. His hand tries to give the same attention to the other one, grasping onto it as his thumb caresses the pebbled nub.

The crescendo of the song comes muffled in the background and it’s as if it’s echoing inside your head while you mindlessly roll your hips against his. The motion makes the lining of his zipper rub deliciously against your clit under the thin fabric of your underwear, and it reminds you of his hardening length pressing on his jeans. It seems to remind him as well, as his mouth parts from your chest in a groan, his lips licking at the space between your breast, kissing all the way back to your neck, where he hides his face with a strangled moan when you grind down a bit harder.

“Can’t take the tease, baby.” He pants. “Need you right fucking now.”

You pull back from him, gazing down at the tent on his pants and bringing your hands to fiddle with his belt. It takes you a bit longer to manage to pull it out, as his eager lips attack your neck once again. At this point, you can only imagine the marks he’s made on your skin, knowing the reddened spots will soon come to a purple shade, but it’s the least of your worries as you pop the button of his jeans, opening up the zipper. 

“Stand up just for a sec, darling.” He taps on your hip and you do as he asks, stepping back to plant your feet on the floor.

He shifts out of his pants, bringing his briefs along with it and you watch the way his cock all but jumps out of its restrains, slapping back on his stomach. The tip is a reddened shade darker, a trace of precum already oozing out of it, dripping down his length and making you rub your thighs for some sort of relief as you feel your mouth watering. You want to reach for it, grasp it as you feel it throb on your palm. You want to trace the prominent veins adorning it with your tongue and discover all the sounds he makes when he’s all but begging for you to wrap you mouth around it already. But more than anything, and what speaks louder to you at the moment, is how you want to feel it deep in your belly, rubbing against your walls until your legs shake.

“My eyes are up here, love.” You look up at him, a smug grin on his face as he draws you in by your hips.

“Can’t help it.” You watch his fingers play with the waistband of your cherry colored underwear, meeting his eyes as you let yourself mess with him a bit. “Just have such a beautiful cock.”

“Christ.” He groans, yanking your panties down your leg, making your arousal drip down your thighs. His lips immediately trace on your pubic bone, hands travelling to grip on your ass as his teeth sink into your skin slowly. “Didn’t know you were this filthy, bunny.”

You enlace your fingers on his strands, pushing his fringe away from his forehead as you mount him again. “Only for you.”

“All for me? What did I do to deserve you?” He smiles, pecking your lips and pulling your closer so you can feel his cock poking at your stomach. “Why don’t you lie down for me?”

You shake your head, pushing his shoulders back gently until his back hits the mattress. “You lie down.”

“Shit, baby, gonna sit on my cock?” He shifts back just slightly, watching you sit back on his thigh as you grab his length, giving it an experimental pump that makes his breath audibly hitch. “Fuck-- such a good girl, aren’t ya?”

You chew on your bottom lip, flickering your palm over the tip and collecting a bit of the precum before rubbing it once more. He lets out a strangled moan, head tilting back on the mattress, his curls splattered around him like a halo. Which is an ironical contrast to what you’re doing to him. 

His voice comes out in a breathy, chest moving frantically as he peeks down at you when you give him another slow pump. “Please, darling, don’t torture me right now, need you so bad.”

If it were another occasion you wouldn’t listen to him, simply continuing your teasing as if he hadn’t said anything at all. But right now you can feel your wetness pooling where you sit on his thigh as you all but throb for him at the sight of his angry cock in your hand. It’s just as much torture to you as it is to him to keep this going any longer, so you just shift up, gabbing his base and rubbing it along your folds one, two, three times, before finally aligning it with your entrance.

His nails dig on your thighs in anticipation, his eyes watching with barely a blink as you slowly sink down. Your mouth hangs open but nothing except a choked gasp comes out of it. There’s a delicious burn that comes with him slowly spreading you open for him, and when you fully sit down your eyes are teary and can’t help but clench around him, earning a full moan in response.

“So fucking tight.” He pants, chest moving up as he takes a sharp inhale when you clench again. “So wet too, baby, drenching me.”

“Fuck, Harry.” You lean forward, hands lying on each side of his torso as you pull up the tiniest bit just to sink down again.

You want to start slow, gradually fastening your pace but you can’t seem to hold yourself back. As his hands grasp on your hips you start to bounce on him at a hard pace, your moans meshing together as well as the faint vocals blasting outside the closed door. Rolling your hips on his, he hits spot that makes you sit on your heels again as you throw your head back, crying out his name. 

It’s hard to keep focus as you mind is blurry from the pleasure that takes over every cell of your body as well as the alcohol still running freely on your bloodstream. All you can focus on right now is Harry. It’s his hands gripping on your skin, helping you fasten your pace. It’s the sound of his voice pitching on a needy whimper, telling you how good you feel around him. It’s the sight of his face creased in pleasure when you look down at him, the veins staining his neck and his locks sticking to his damp forehead, cheeks rosy and lips plump. He’s the only thing in your mind as you chant his name under your breath like a quiet prayer.

“Is my cock that good, bunny?” He meets your thrusts with his hips, making you sob out a moan. His lips tug on a smirk, “Look at you helping you helping yourself out on my cock -- fuck, look like a proper dream.”

There’s a familiar tightness in your stomach, one that makes your toes curl and your rhythm falters. “I’m almost there, shit.”

“Won’t last much longer too, baby, feel too good.” He groans holding your hips in place when you stumble on your pace again, deciding to thrust upwards, your pelvis meeting in loud smacks. “Gonna cum for me? Gonna let me see you looking all pretty when you cum all over my cock?”

“Harry, please.” You’re not even sure what you’re asking for, your eyes closing as you roll back your head. A trifling cramp is starting to set on the back of your thighs but you barely pay any mind to it as the bliss takes over your whole body. You’re so close to your high you can almost reach it, just needing a small push.

“C’mon, baby.” Harry urges you, hand reaching where you’re connected to rub at your clit harshly.

And that’s all you needed, opening your eyes as a couple tears fall down your face when you feel your orgasm taking over you body, the white ceiling feeling far away like an imagine you watch on the television. You’re not exactly sure when Killer Queen started playing, but as the waves of euphoria hit your body, you can hear the guitar solo ringing in your ears, the crescendo of the song only enhancing the thrill of your high as you ride your orgasm along with it.

You practically collapse  down on his chest, his hot skin sticking to your body. He’s still panting under you, warm breath hitting your neck as he holds onto your ass, his thrusts coming sloppier as he comes right after you. The sensitivity of your center makes you whine along with his strangled moans when he holds his hips to yours,burying himself in you as he paints your walls white.

For a moment you just stay like this, cheek resting on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat slowing down by the minute blending with the music coming from outside the closed door. His fingertips trace patterns on your bare arm that’s hugging his torso and keeping him close. You can feel your mind getting clearer, not just from the alcohol but from the high of your orgasm. And as the sound of the soft wind knocks against the window glass, you’re almost lulled to sleep just like this. 

Harry shifts slightly, you feel his lips pressing on your head before he carefully moves to sit up, letting you fall back on the bed gently. “Mind if I have a smoke, bunny?”

You give him a lazy smile, shaking your head as you look up at him, reaching for his locks that poke wildly on his head. Leaning down, he gives you a quick peck before getting up. Turning to your side, you watch as he looks around the room, finding his briefs thrown by the end of the bed and quickly putting them back on. He grabs the pack of cigarettes along with his lighter and heads towards the window.

Opening up the window, allowing the evening breeze to slip through the crack and dance around the room, he pulls a chair leaning on the wall to sit directly by it. The chair is stacked with colored cushions on top of it - one yellow, one red, and one blue - he throws two of them thoughtlessly on the floor next to it, adjusting the remaining one on his back as he leans down to sit on it. The stool is low enough so he can relax his feet on it comfortably, fingers fiddling with the lighter for a second before rising it to meet the end of the cigarette resting between his lips. Freddie Mercury still sings loudly in the living room, the sound coming a bit muffled thanks to the closed door, but making it as background noise as you come quiet to admire his figure against the last creeks of sunlight hitting the side of his profile.

You chew on your lip at the scene, wishing you could record it somehow and play it every night before falling asleep. There’s something inherently erotic about having him smoke a cigar just on his underwear, humming along to the tune of the song, right after having you scream his name into his pillow. 

The light streak of wind coming from the window breaks you out of your thoughts, making goosebumps rise on your skin as you come to the realization that you’re still sitting naked in his bed. It doesn’t take long for you to find your panties hanging from the edge of the mattress, picking them up to quickly slide them up your legs before you get up to search for your other articles of clothing. You can see the colorful pattern of your playsuit lying next to the closed door, but as you crouch to pick it up something else catches your attention in the pile of clothes thrown around mindlessly on top of a wooden chest

It’s the pink shirt. The same one he wore on the day you first saw him play.

A grin takes over your face as you pick it up, throwing it over your shoulders and sliding your hand on the sleeves. It has the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering smell of cigarettes, something you’ve come to associate with him. You don’t bother to button up the material, letting it hug your body as you take a quick look at yourself in the full-body mirror leaning on the wall in front of you. You turn to him, his eyes still focused on the view outside, a thin coat of smoke leaving his lips and getting lost in the breeze, so you clear your throat as to get his attention.

He looks at you, eyes shamelessly scanning down your body and you’re afraid the cig will fall from his lips as they grow on a smug smirk. 

“Look at you,” he lets his feet fall from the stool, fixing them on the floor as he motions for you to get close. You approach him without a second thought, climbing on his lap as his hands hold onto your hips. He takes another look at you, grasping the cigarette with his fingers and taking out of his lips. Reaching for your face, his thumb caresses the side of your eyelid gently. “Looking like a proper rockstar now, even got the smudged makeup.”

You giggle. “That’s more your fault than mine.”

“I guess it is.” He taps the butt of the cig on an ashtray prompted on the stool of the window, eyes still trained on you. “Should do it more often then, s’fucking hot.”

You smile at the connotation, picking at the hem of the shirt and gazing at him from under your lashes. “Guess I might be starting to like pink, that’s also your fault.”

“Look way too good in pink not to like it, bunny.”

“Stop that.” You hide your face on the crook of his shoulder.

“Telling the truth.” His free hand grips on your waist, pulling you closer as he tilts his head to kiss at your neck. “Looks good in everything.”

“Could tell you the same thing.” You pull back to look at him, teeth sinking on your bottom lip as you smooth your hands down his bare chest.  “But I do prefer this fit on you, really brings out your eyes.”

“Naughty.”

You lean to connect your lips, hugging him close with your arms wrapped around his neck and enjoying the tender moment as you distribute kisses around his face just to hear him giggle. And when you bring your mouth to his again, you barely feel the softness of his lips before he all but jumps on his skin. You pull back, furrowing your brows, ready to question it but he beats you. “Forgot I got something for you.”

“For me?” You blink. “What is it?”

“Go sit on the bed while I fetch, will be just a minute.” He gives you a quick peck before you’re pulling away.

You do as he asks, sitting back on the bed, right next to the wrinkled spot where you lied just  minutes ago. He walks across the room, opening the door where you came from and disappearing in the hallway. The record is still blasting through the apartment walls, sound coming louder now that there’s no barrier between you.

While he’s gone, you take a moment to look around his room, something you didn’t get a chance to do when you first came in tangled on his arms. It’s not much messier than the living room, really, only the small piles of clothes you’ve spotted earlier that give the illusion of an untidy room. There’s a light wooden dresser that sits next to the chest, and from where you sit you can see two candles standing alone on top of it, similar to the ones on the piano. 

You swing your feet on the edge of the bed, letting them brush along a blue fluffy mat that hugs the floor underneath it. And as you run your hands on along his mattress, you notice the soft superficie, making you look down at a knitted blanket spreaded across the bed. It’s made of different colored squared stuck together in an oddly comforting pattern. You want to lie down on it, and let yourself be swallowed by the cozyness of the material against your skin, but before you can do so, Harry appears back in the room, closing the door behind him as he makes his way to you.

“This blanket is so nice.” You run your hands through it, smiling at him.

“Thanks, I knitted it.” The information makes your eyes bulge out, you open your mouth to inquire further but he’s already talking again. “This is-- uhm, I dunno, just something I thought you’d like it.”

The small box in his hand catches your attention as he hands it to you, his eyes looking down at it and even with just the moonlight illuminating the room you can see the blush on his cheeks. He props himself down on the spot next to you, watching your fingers turn the rectangular box around. It’s a cassette tape case, you quickly realize.

When you gaze at the back of it, there’s names of songs scribbled behind it. Not many, but a good collection of them, from Fleetwood Mac to The Bangles, and even Billy Joel. And it doesn’t take you long to find a pattern with the song chosen for the tape. Their all love songs. It makes your heart swell even more, if that’s even possible at this point.

“These are so cheesy,” you bite your lip, barely able to contain your smile.

He rolls his eyes. “They’re romantic, bunny.”

You keep examining the titles written neatly in his handwriting, raising your brows when you land on a specific one. “Every breath you take?” You tease, “That’s an interesting take on romance.”

“Shut up.” He giggles, eyes watching you carefully. “Do you like it?” His voice is adorably hesitant, it makes your heart stumble on a beat.

“I love it.” You say in just above a whisper, feeling the butterflies in your stomach get a little more vivid once your eyes land on the last song scribbled in the back of the tape. Somebody to Love. Brushing your thumb over the words softly, careful not to smudge the paint, you look up at him to find his green irises glistening at you. You shake your head almost in disbelief at the tenderness behind the gift. “Did you record this just for me?”

“Uhm yeah some of them I did but—” He looks down, focusing on his fingers as they pick a loose string from the blanket under his leg. “Some of them I just... Sang”

“You sang?” It takes you by surprise, how you thought there was no way he could make you feel warmer.

“Yeah… All of them, actually.” His dimples dig deep on his cheeks as he quickly peeks his eyes at you. “It’s just… The quality is shit when you record it from the radio and the dj keeps interrupting and stuff.” He shrugs, “Thought if I sang it could be more, personal? I guess.”

“I love it.” You repeat.

“You do?” 

“I do.” You chew on your lip, watching his eyes glimmering on the dim light of the room. “Is there a reason for this sudden present?”

“Kind of I--” He clears his throat, fully glancing at you. There’s an expectation behind his eyes, you can tell from the way he takes a sharp inhale that he’s nervous. “Thought I make you-- ask you, actually, if you’d be mine?”

You can’t help but giggle at how adorable he looks, your eyes getting a bit glossy as you nod without a blink of a thought. “Of course I’m yours, Harry.”

“Yeah?” His smile grows. “As like, m’girlfriend?”

Throwing your arms around him, you press your lips against his cheek, careful not to drop the tape in your hand still. You pull back, tilting your head as giving him a fond smile. “As in your girlfriend, yes.”

[jaeqtstuff]

― 𝑔𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊

words count: 1.7k

playlist: ghost by justin bieber (recommend to listen to it while reading, just to get the feels because im suck at angst lol)

pls note that english is not my first language. but i had fun writing this so i hope you too! xx

[10:15pm] after escaping the most boring blind date that your friend set you up with, you came across the usual late night bar that you used to go during your days with beomgyu. yeah, your famous ex among your peers.

everybody knows how in love, how insanely perfect the two of you were for a love story but that was during high school. college was a whole different story. it suddenly becomes so toxic that it drained both of you. waking up every morning was a burden to the point you can't even breath in each other presence. you didn't know what went wrong, neither did he but as years passed, it was all because of childish reason. the most hurtful thing about this one is, you knew it could be saved but you didn't do anything. and neither did he.

"whiskey on the rocks." you choose to sit far from others, wanting more privacy. the bartender seems to recognise you by the way his mouth formed a big smile as if he was welcoming a friend. you smiled back, nonetheless.

let's just call it off. it's better this way. i mean can you do this everyday? doesn't this itch you?

you shut you eyes close as you slowly savouring every drops of it. why does it taste bitter? it shouldn't taste like this. i should've just go home.

fucking sick of it. fucking sick of everything and just piss off. don't you get tired of me? honestly i am. so get lost from my fucking sight.

the more you sip, the bitter it got. you didn't enjoy it. maybe that's the reason why some people avoid old places but you were there, drinking alone in the most romantic set up you could ever imagine for a late night bar, the low dimmed lights and slow soul music playing in the background and not to mention all the couple around you. you hate it so much but you can't deny the obvious fact that you missed it. you miss how this place used to caress you with memories you still keep in the deepest part of your heart.

"do people still come over to sing?" you casually asked the bartender as he slips your second drink. you remember how beomgyu used to say that he will sing at the small stage and dedicate a song for you infront of everyone in the bar but he never did.

"well yes. in fact, we're preparing for one." he replied, with much excitement at you. you look passed your shoulders, eyes fixed to the small stage at the corner. they were getting ready with the mic and there was single stool with a guitar at the side.

"he's a good singer." the bartender commented as he was wiping all the utensils he had used just now with a clean cloth. "really?" you look away from the stage and bring your glass close to the mouth. without wasting much, you gulped down the rest of the drink in one go before taking out your purse to pay. you could hear the soft melody of guitar playing at the back but you were more focus with the text displayed on your home screen. "it's weekend. leave me the fuck alone." you hissed under your breath.

Youngblood thinks there's always tomorrow

I miss your touch on nights when I'm hollow

I know you crossed a bridge that I can't follow

Since the love that you left is all that I get

I want you to know that if I can't be close to you

I settle for the ghost of you

I miss you more than life

you shut the phone away and bring the card out to pay. you waited for the bartender to notice you but you were now interested with the song. your head unknowingly move with the beat, fingers tapping slowly on your bare legs. the lights on the stage were too dimmed and you couldn't see well who was the one singing but his voice was causing a whole war flashback in your head.

And if you can't be next to me

Your memory is ecstasy

I miss you more than life

I miss you more than life

you never knew a song could break you so much, not when you least expected it but the one singing was also not helping the situation any better. he was singing his heart out, as if he was the one writing the lyrics from some kind of painful experience he ever had in his life. anyone in the bar could say the same thing.

Youngblood thinks there's always tomorrow

I need more time but time can't be borrowed

I'd leave it all behind if I could follow

Since the love that you left is all that I get

I want you to know that if I can't be close to you

the more you listen, the more your heart ached. all these years, you thought you moved on from him. you can finally accept the fact that you can live without him by your side. in those years, it's a lie if you say you never thought of him during those drunken nights with your friends. but tonight was brutal. you could relate to the lyrics so much that you had trouble holding yourself back from any breakdown that would cost you every time you said you were good without him.

I'll settle for the ghost of you

I miss you more than life, yeah

you were never good.

And if you can't be next to me

Your memory is ecstasy (oh)

I miss you more than life

I miss you more than life

you were never calm after both of you called it off. you forced yourself to drink every night so that you can sleep without thinking of him but the terrible headaches every morning was torture. the moment you get up, he was all over in your head. you remember how you wanted to run back to him every night, tell him to forget all the bad pieces and just start new but by looking at the sight of it, it would make you throw up. you definitely knew it will make things worse.

you looked at the stage, still trying to see who was the one singing. heart still hurting but deep down, you were expecting something out of wicked love story. the tears building up in your eyes were not helping as your visions got blurry from the lyrics. blinking the tears away, you were nervous to look back to the stage again.

So if I can't get close to you

I'll settle for the ghost of you

But I miss you more than life

And if you can't be next to me

Your memory is ecstasy

you breathed in deeply, struggling to gain your composure. nonetheless, the shaky eyes went back to the stage where suddenly, the lights around the stage were slowly looking brighter. you could clearly see how he was playing the guitar effortlessly with his eyes closed. the expression on his face was tormentingly raw or maybe it was just your eyes telling the lies to the mind, telling you that he was also in much pain just like you were. one thing for sure, you eyes couldn't lie the one infront of you.

I miss you more than life

I miss you more than life

how can you forget his voice? you gasped for air, breathed in every sharp air you could get because you knew, the night will only get worse, will only wreck you even more than it did before. you could never get better from it.

the people around you start clapping, telling you that he was done singing on the stage. you could hear the soft giggle from the mic before the countless thank you from him. you carefully eyed him at the stage before taking out the cash from your purse, putting the card back inside. you couldn't be bothered about the points because the last thing you want was beomgyu seeing you in this helpless state. smudge eyeliner and mascara because of the tears and also the short lacy black dress you were wearing. it was too obvious.

so you left without looking back. and oh boy, the moment the cold air hit your face, you couldn't hold back the tears. no, you were weeping, sobbing, almost throwing up on the side road. walking to home will be hard but you were quick to stop a cab.

thank god the tears stop the moment you were in the cab. the warm seat kinda cool you down a bit but your heart was eager. you didn't stop there and pulled out the phone from your back. eventhough you didn't contact each other, you knew where to find him and in those nights like this, you always check on him. last time you did was two years ago and maybe it should just stay unchecked.

the moment it hits you, there i knew i am still holding on to the past just like how i always did. and perhaps it's because you are always there. not leaving me nor forget about me. i will just settle like this, holding on to that life i miss most. ― 15 minutes ago

wish you can stay longer so that this night would not be lonely again but it's not what i thought it is. i'm sorry. ― 2 minutes ago

you lost at the last words and now fighting your own mind, telling the cab to turn around but you couldn't get the words out from your mouth. you knew beomgyu saw you, he probably saw you in that bar. sitting alone at the furthest table from the rest. he probably saw how you were struggling in your seat, looking so pathetic in that dress.

he was right. beomgyu was right.

this night will only get lonelier. if only you stayed, maybe things could change but you knew, it can only work if both of you wanted it. he had his chance but he didn't use it. in between those tears, you laugh it off, thinking how stupid could you be with just simple words like 'i'm sorry', you were ready to throw yourself again to the deepest pit of hell with him.

choi beomgyu,

the only man who wreck you this much. the only man who can prove to you that there will be no other lover like him.

"choi beomgyu."

[shadowturtlesstuff]

You belong with me

so i decided to post wadsworth first. modern au cressworth- you belong with me taylor swift

Thomas throws his phone down on the bed with frustration swirling around him as he paces. I set down my pen and wait till he turns and spots me. We often find ourselves talking via paper throughout the nights, from questions about our day to helping each other study. It is also often we watch each other be angry at something, yet I've not seen him this bad before. Finally Thomas turns and catches my eye. He stands there for a second before smiling and I quickly move around my various workbooks till I find my notebook I use to talk to him. I take my sharpie and write: ‘Are you okay?’

I watch him shake his head ever so slightly, seemingly baffled at it, but he walks to his window and opens it. The wind brushes his deep brown hair and I can't help but want to reach out and run my hand through it. I curse myself for it as he motions for me to open my window. Moving my books and pens off of me and cursing at my stiff leg as I go and open the window. Somehow I manage to hit my arm in the process and I curse, which makes Thomas laugh slightly so I forgive my body for hurting me. 

“You have a wicked mouth Wadsworth. Did you not learn cursing is unlady-like?” he teases and I relax slightly because of it.

“Fuck you,” I scowl at his smirk and the frigid wind. His eyes light up at my temper. We live across from one another, if we were to reach out we could hold hands. Which we have done. When I got rejected from the specific school I was desperate to go to, Thomas had managed to climb into my room and hold me as I cried. He's only ever needed to climb over twice to cheer me up, the other times have been to study or watch some romance programme he thought was good. I hoped wherever was troubling was something that wouldn't resort to me having to climb over. As much as I would want to, my brain may have a hard time letting me attempt it. 

“I assume dear Wadworth, you want to ask what has made me so irate?” he asks, eyes focused on behind me and fingers tapping his window sill as he sits. I watch as his cat, ridiculously named Sir Isaac Mewton, jumps off his bed and onto his seat next to him. He grabs the cat and kisses the top of his head before holding him in his lap.

“Perhaps,” I say, moving so I rest my head on the wall, “perhaps I merely wanted to ask if Sir Issac was okay.” his eyes shift to mine and despite him still being angry they soften at my attempt at humour. I am not as good as Thomas at using humour to help someone, but he always does it for me. 

“Really? You always refer to him as a little pest, whereas as with me, I am your dearest person, of course you want to know how I am feeling. My son is good though, very energetic today.” he smiles down at his cat. I remember the day he brought him home, he made me go over to his house and we spent all night playing with him. Thomas did, I ended up studying and making notes for the both of us while he gave Sir Isaac a ‘grand tour’ of his new home. The smile vanishes off Thomas's face and once again his gaze goes past me. “I assume you saw the call, well that was William. Yes, awful. Apparently though, there is a rumour that I'm with Miss Whitehall. I don't even remember her first name, but he was convinced of our relation despite my protests. Madness.” I watch him scoff, anger once again taking over his features. His cat nuzzles into him and Thomas leans into his cat. If I wasn't also mad now I'd smile at the sight. 

“Is this the same William that had convinced everyone I was dating him?” 

“Yes.”

“Bitch. Why on earth is he such a problem? Where on earth does he even make this assumptions about us?'' I find myself standing and pacing, trying to quell my own rising anger. A year ago, William had been my lab partner for a few weeks, he was friendly, but people had got it in their head that we were somehow together, and he went with it. Gossiped about me, even Thomas, and then was somehow enraged I dared to stop those rumours and be angry at him. I'd come home one day when it was particularly too much, when my father had found out and lectured me about it, as though I was in the wrong for standing up for myself. He'd cancel my lesson with my uncle out of spite, and I stormed upstairs. Thomas had been at the window, as if he was expecting me. One look at his face made me cry. I managed to open my window and he'd once again climbed in and held me as I cried. Then he made us watch this awful romance film together and held me still as I fell asleep on him. 

“I have never once,” Thomas says, dragging me back from those awful memories, “shown interest in her, nor will I ever.” He drags a hand through his hair. “She's just- a lot.”

I huff a sigh. She is awful. Had been awful to Liza and I for years. With her short skirts, high heels and the most rotten attitude I have ever witnessed. It wasn't often that I'd hate someone like that, someone so different from me in nearly every way, but she has tried to make me feel that I don't belong because of my interest in science and not the traditional girl interests.. “That is the understatement of the year Cresswell. Beside, you wouldn't work, she's too- your,” I have no idea how to explain how excellent Thomas is, how wonderful his mind is and how kind he is. It's not a side he shows to most, yet if he was ever with someone like Whitehall, it would be disastrous. I take my seat again and find him looking at me, suppressing a smirk and raising an eyebrow at me. “What?” I ask. I shrink under his gaze, pulling my hoodie over my legs as I curl in on myself. 

“I’m what? I'd be delighted to know your innermost thoughts of me, Wadsworth.”

“Your absurd but fine I'll elaborate,” I roll my eyes as he shifts so he is fully facing me, eyes completely focused, no sign of the anger he had only moments ago, “your too kind, too witty and clever and Whitehall wouldn’t appreciate you enough. You-” don’t belong with her.

Ever since he mentioned the idea of being with someone else, real or not, I have tried to ignore how much it pained me that he would be with someone else. I never expected to want to be with him, yet lately the premise of dating him has seemed very pleasing to me.

“You forgot to mention how handsome I look, or how charming I am, but I'll take it,” his voice is deeper than normal and his gaze travels over me even though his eyes are on my own. Thomas pats Sir Issac and his cat jumps off behind him with a whine. His hand reaches out for mine and I lean forward, wind making my loose strands of hair fly across my face. His hands are warm as I take them but his smile warms me more. It is small but genuine and filled with the normal Cresswell charm mixed with something I can't quite name. 

“I don’t need to inflate your ego further Thomas.” 

“I know but it would've been nice. I did say the inner most thoughts but we’ll get there. Audrey rose-” he looks down contemplating his words before he once again locks his gaze on mine, his dark brown eyes bright, “I dont belong with her, your right, my heart would never belong to her especially since it already belongs to someone else.” 

I blink at the honesty. I want to scream that you belong with me; but if Thomas is in love with someone else then I suppose I will have to find a way to deal with it. I try to keep the hurt of my face even as he smiles at me. 

“I-” Thomas lets go of my hand and stands. There's a silence between us until he motions for me to move. The idiot is going to climb into my house so he can tell me about his new found love. Like the fool I am, I'm going to let him talk about this girl who makes him look this happy. Even though it hurts that it's not me who is making him look like that. Even though I'm the one who makes him laugh when he is angry or upset. Even though I'm the one who knows his favourite songs, the books beside his bed and all his hopes and dreams.

He climbs over and sets himself on the window sill, giving me room to sit across from him. I do, even as I try to ignore the weight pressing down on my chest. “I hope you are happy with whomever has your heart Cresswell.” I say and mean it. I once again curl into myself, hoodie covering my legs as i watch him continue to smile at me, 

“Of course I'll be happy. She's amazing. Let me tell you all about her. I met her many years back and was instantly smitten with her emerald eyes and her quick witted mind. How she sings to herself every morning and how her dark curls fall across her face whenever she sits on her bed and reads. I adore her curiosity for the dead and how wicked her mouth is and how delightful it is to watch your mind at work. I love when she shows me a note through the window to see if I'm doing okay and-”

“Wait,” I blurt out, my mind catching up, “Thomas, are you talking about me?”

“Yes, finally! I thought I'd have to keep speaking forever till you realized it was you.” He starts laughing at my gaping mouth until I collect myself enough to scowl at him slightly for laughing. Thomas reaches out for my hand, moving closer to me until my back is pressed against the wall, my hoodie no longer over my legs as he rests his other hand on my leg, warmth seeping through me. “Wadsworth, darling, I have been in love with you for some time now.” 

Silence washes over us as we stare, trying to convince ourselves this is really happening. “I have something to show you.” My voice is barely about a whisper and I slide out of his grasp even though I don't want to. I walk to my bed where all my notebooks were left open and my notebooks sits. I open it out and let a piece of paper fall out. Facing Thomas I open the sheet slowly, watch him read the words. His eyes lit up at them.

I love you.

I take my place beside him again, his hands finding their way in mine once again. “I wrote that the night after you came here the second time. Something in me clicked that no matter what you'd find a way to comfort me. Not save me, but work alongside me. I wanted to tell you I just couldn't face it. But I needed to acknowledge it. So I wrote it down, and I look at it every time we use the note system; I try to convince myself to show you.” Thomas just stares at me, eyes flicking down to my lips every now and then. His hands are making circles on my leg, not entirely intentional. Thomas has always shown if he is excited or nervous by either tapping or making shapes on surfaces. The world slows completely as he leans in and presses his lips against mine. He pulls back ever so slightly, resting his head against mine and we are both smiling wildly at each other, pressing kisses until he leans further away. Thomas goes back to his side of the wall, which may as well be across the other side of the world, then he pulls me to him and I twist so that my back is against his. He holds me as we both look out the window, enjoying the freeing feeling of telling each other how we feel. 

“Now would be a perfect time to tell me how handsome I am, my love.” 

@fangirling-again @kittycat2187 @goatahoan @city-of-fae @the-hoofflepooff @padfoot-sirius-black-blog @purplecreatorhorsewagon @boredbookwormgirl @goddess-of-writing-wars @lovecakeandmore ​ @yikesitsmaddie @loveyatopluto​ @throneofsc @bookscressworth​

[snowgoldwaylon]

The Outfield - Russell Adler X Reader

Russell played baseball in high school, and was pretty damn good. Now, since being in the CIA, he hasn't picked up a slugger since. Maybe its time for the reader to show him how it's played.

TW: Strong language, sexual jokes.

It was a hot, summer afternoon at the base and many others were trying to stay cool as the 97-degree weather pounded down onto the tin roof. You, for the most part, were catching up on things you needed to be done in your room.

You cleaned, reorganized, and moved things around so they would feel fresh again. Your small black radio filled your room with the upbeat tunes of The Outfield - Your Love.

With the first guitar rift, memories of the team flooded instantly into your head. Lazar wearing a lampshade, Frank doing a silly dance with Mason with a beer in his hand, Helen at your side laughing just as hard as you. And Sims playing one wicked air guitar.

And Russell joined in at the last second so he wouldn't miss the chorus of the song. Hell, by then you would all have arms around the shoulders and sing as much as your lungs could handle.

You sat down for just a second to take all those memories in, and relive them. Those were the times before things started to get more serious with the Perseus hunt.

Things got dark and gloomy after the incident in Cuba, now everyone walked on eggshells around Russell. He never took to losing someone who we worked with easily. But after the loss of a long-time friend from another unit, almost brought him to his knees.

He always acted tough around the team, but you could tell deep down inside, he was ready to blow. This got you thinking about how you could take away all his anxiety and pain, let him have the opportunity to make another good memory for now.

Even if that meant for a few hours or a whole day. You got up, went to your desk, and did what any normal person would do. You read over his file carefully, maybe to see if he had any past hobbies he exceled in.

While in the middle of switching pages on your desktop, your door opened, and a quick rush of cool air filled the room. You spun around in your chair, and your eyes focused on the tall, petite brunette that entered with a file tucked under her arm, coffee, and a cigarette.

"Hey Y/N, sorry to just barge in. Hudson wanted me to come to share these updated rules with you about training." She said, closing the door as she looked up.

She pushed her glasses up and froze as her eyes focused on the file currently up on your screen. Your face went red, and you leaned back into your chair with a fake smile.

'Hey, Helen, way to knock huh?" You said, quickly using your body to block the screen.

She set her coffee down and simply pointed behind you. You flailed about as you tried desperately to click out of Russell's file.

"Oh, this? This is nothing, I was just trying to uh, do something?" You said, but more as a question.

Helen started laughing hysterically while she pulled up a chair and took a seat smack dab beside you.

"Y/N, no need to be embarrassed. I know you care for Russell greatly, but do you need to retort to such tactics as stalking the man?" She said in a cool tone.

You slumped over your desk and huffed. Great, now you look like a huge stalker to your best friend. How were you going to get out of this situation?

You turned and gave Helen a death glare. With her still cackling, you gave her arm a slight punch and went back to the desktop. You pulled up Russell's file again and looked for anything to help.

"I'm not stalking him, Hel. I'm trying to see if it says anything about what he liked when he was younger, maybe if he played any sports in school. But I can't find a damn thing about him!" You exclaimed pointing dramatically to the screen.

Helen lit a cigarette and you opened a can of Dr. Pepper. She scooted her chair up to your left side and looked at you with serious intent. You could practically see the gears grinding in her head, and it kind of scared you.

"Oh God Helen, what are you plotting? Your plotting I know that look from anywhere!!!" You exclaimed.

She gave you the classic horror movie smile and adjusted the glasses properly on her face.

"Y/N, you know me so well. Now, let's dig up the past on Mr. Adler here." She said, cracking her knuckles.

You simply slid down the chair you were sitting in horror, and watched. Now you were ready for the chaos that was about to unfold.

Time skip

After hours upon hours of digging through files, and even some additional research online to find just anything, you stumbled across an old newspaper headline.

"Helen, look! It's Russell!" You exclaimed.

You both intently scanned over the front page, and how Russell was the star of it.

"Local teenager named Allstar of the high school baseball team awarded a scholarship at finals"

The picture on the cover was Russell in his baseball uniform, holding a huge trophy. He had the black stripes painted on under his eyes, his hat could barely contain his blonde curled mess of hair. You assumed the people on either side of him were his parents.

The best part about the picture though was the huge, proud smile he wore. The background was dark from it being nighttime, and the lights illuminated his gorgeous silhouette. You felt a slight blush coming.

"Hello, earth to Y/N," Park said, looking directly at you.

You snapped your head towards her and smiled.

"What, I'm all here Helen." You said.

She gave you a suspicious eye, but then she giggled.

"Yeah, sure you were. Also, can we just acknowledge the fact that Russell had curlier hair than Bon Jovi?" She said.

You both laughed loudly.

"For real, I'm waiting for that picture to start singing about how the Union went on strike." You said.

Another rage fit of laughs erupted through the room, as you both cackled and started singing in horrible tones of the song.

After the laughing died down, your door was suddenly thrown open, and none other than Lawrence Sims' head poked through the door. You stood up to cover up the computer, and Helen took position right next to you.

"Hey y'all, can I come in?" He questioned.

"Sure, we were just discussing new safety and combatant rules," Helen said in a cool tone.

Lawrence came in and took a seat, he also had some papers in his hands. He gave a confused look as he finally saw both of you, tag-teaming covering the screen.

"Uh, whatcha y'all got going on there?" He questioned.

"Just looking at an old high school baseball list, that's all. For a little project." You said.

Lawrence quickly shook his and sighed.

"I hope y'all know I can see right in the middle past you, and I see that's Doc back in high school." He said.

You didn't know what to say, and neither did Helen.

"Listen, we aren't being weird, we were just trying to find out if Russell had any hobbies so we all could take a day, and do something. He's super depressed and I just want him to be happy, even if it's just for a day." You said.

"Sounds like to me that Y/N has a little crushy crush on the Doc," Lawrence said, making kiss sounds.

"Lawrence, I'll kill you if you say anything." You said.

He froze, and shivered.

"No thanks, I choose life." He said, putting a hand over his heart.

"Good, I'm glad we're on the same base then," Helen said with a wicked smile.

You got up and pulled out a notebook. You quickly jotted something down with a black pen and looked up back to them.

"Okay so, he enjoys baseball. So what now?" Helen asked.

You pulled out an older newspaper from your bedside drawer and scanned over the 'community tab. The moment you saw the city's baseball field that was open to the community as of now, you almost jumped up.

"Guys look, let's round everyone up and go here. We can play a few games of baseball and have lunch, stay until it's dark. Maybe hit up the nearby bar for happy hour." You winked.

Lawrence and Helen looked at each other with a satisfied face, and nodded.

"Well, I certainly have no objections. Let us all run around and play an American game very aggressively!" Helen exclaimed.

"Until we all get smoked by Doc." Lawrence scoffed.

You slipped your shoes on and your facility ID around your neck. You turned back to both of your friends and gave a come on motion.

"Well, come on. I'm gonna need your brains to help me convince Jason to not be such a stick in the mud." You said.

With that, you all headed ground level to his office.

A couple of days later

Lazar whipped the large borrowed van into a parking spot, right outside the giant, stadium before you all. Pulling up, Alex let out a low whistle and Helen snapped photos. She was just equally amazed as you were.

"Man, this place is fucking huge. I think this and Yamantu are a tie." Frank said, adjusting his baseball gear.

Russell sprung up from the very back seat and craned his neck to see what you all were talking about.

"Whoever let Lazar get his license needs fired. I feel like I just went through the space-time continuum." Jason complained.

Lazar gave him a serious face as he looked into the rear view mirror of the van at Jason.

"Fine, you can just walk next time. We both benefit!" He said.

Jason scoffed and finally opened the van door.

You stepped out, and Russell got out last. He took in a large grey stadium and you saw a smile creeping up on his face.

"So you planned all of this? Impressive. Love me some baseball." Russell said as he walked to your side.

You finished pulling your shirt down where you desired and looked towards him with a smile. You both started walking side by side but made sure to follow the group from behind.

The weather was perfect, and there were still plenty of hours of sunlight left for you all to cop out at least 5 games, that's if everyone wanted 5 games.

"So, what made you decide to haul all of us down here to a baseball field and play? What if someone doesn't like it?" Russell asked, smoking a cigarette.

"Oh you know, this is a pretty popular place, so I figured this would be a good distraction for all of us for a while. Things were pretty sour back at HQ, you know?" You said with a smile, bringing your backpack tighter on your back.

You all entered the stadium and went straight for the closet dugout and sat all your gear down. You all huddled together once everyone got everything out, and ready to go.

"Wait! Before we all go, there's one more thing. We can't play a game without the Babe Ruth special!" Alex yelled.

He pulled a tube of black paint from his back pocket and held it up. Everyone laughed as he dipped his finger, and marked two straight lines under both his eyes.

The whole team passed it around and did the same. After it was done, he recapped it and threw it next to his bag on the bench.

"Alright, now we need teams. Since there are eight of us all together, that helps. Pick a group of four and go from there. I call dibs on Y/N!" Helen exclaimed.

Lazar joined you, and so did Lawrence. Jason, Russell, Frank, and Alex all paired up, and the groups all decided to flip a coin to see who was batting or playing field first.

"Heads for Y/N's team, or tails for Doc's team," Lawrence said, putting the coin on the top part of his hand.

You nodded and watched with great intent. He flipped the coin with ease. It glided through the air with ease. The shiny coin fell and hit the ground with a small thud. You all stood around to see what it landed on.

You cheered when you saw heads. You and Helen jumped with joy when you saw Frank and Alex sigh. You all went to where you were supposed to be within in seconds.

Lazar stepped up to the plate first with a wooden slugger in his hands. Jason warmed up with the ball for a few seconds and slipped the black glove on his left hand.

You and Helen headed back to the dugout to watch. Lawrence took up the position of the umpire. You sat down and opened the water and offered it to Helen first, who gladly accepted.

"I hope I made the right choice. Now, this whole baseball thing seems kind of silly." You said.

Helen looked at you mid sip.

"What? Y/N don't be silly. Everyone is excited! Look, I've never seen Russell so excited before in his life. Other than when you walk into a room." She grinned.

Your face turned a beet red, and you lightly smacked her arm.

"Helen Park! Not here, Skidrow. Not today." You murmured out.

She laughed and turned her attention back to the field.

"You'll have to tell him eventually you know. It will drive you crazy." She said.

Jason struck Lazar out twice, and he was on his last swing. Jason threw a wicked curveball, but Lazar cracked it with ease. He threw the bat off home plate and took off to first.

The boys in the outfield took off at the speed of light after the ball. Alex picked it up after it landed on the ground, and chucked it to Russell. He caught it and turned to get Lazar out, but Lazar stopped at third base and gave a little hand wave.

"Sorry Rus, I'm safe," Lazar said with a little sass.

You poked Helen and whispered to her while she watched in amazement.

"You'll have to tell him soon Helen." You said with a dark laugh.

She smacked you lightly, before grabbing a bat and walking toward the plate. You sat back, pulled your hair up and smiled.

Time skip, hours later.

It was dark, and the field was lit up by the stadium lights. The team was easily on the 6th game of the night. It was serious now, and personal. After losses and winnings racked up on either side evenly, Russell's team was determined to win the last game of the night.

Alex walked up to bat while you stood at the mound, gloved up and ready to go. Frank turned up the radio at the dugout. You saw Alex come and position himself where he wanted.

"Hey Lex, how's it hanging? Long and hairy hard to carry, short and stubby kind of chubby, or a little to the left?" You asked with a smile.

Laughter erupted from either side and Alex just chuckled, bringing the bat over his shoulder.

"A little to the left, but you should already know that." He said.

Once the laughter died down, you brought your arm up for a pitch. You swung with ferocity, and drive. The ball flew through the air swiftly, like water, and straight past Alex who had swung way too early.

You repeated these steps two more times, and soon he was out. He walked back to the dugout after his defeat. Russell emerged and strut his way to the plate.

You watched him the whole time. You were mesmerized by how good he looked with sweaty hair and determination. Like he was trying to take top Alpha.

"You ready for this, blondie?" You said to him in a singsong voice.

He chuckled, took off his sunglasses, and brought the bat over his shoulder. He kicked some dirt off the plate and repositioned himself.

"As I'll ever be, chickadee." He rhymed.

Your heart went a million miles a minute as you came into the pitching position. You threw the first one, and it went right past him, he didn't even flinch.

Frank threw the ball back and you caught it with one hand. You returned it to your dominant hand and got ready to pitch again.

You cocked back, and with great force, you threw it with everything you had. The ball soared and made small whirring sounds as it flew towards Russell.

Russell took one step forward and swung with all his force. The ball made a sick cracking sound as it came into contact with the metal bat. The ball went flying over your head so fast, you couldn't keep an eye on it.

You simply watched in amazement as he took off running, and everyone was yelling. By some will, Lazar caught it after it landed. He threw it back and you caught it with precision.

You turned on your heel and immediately went to chase down Russell, who was already at 3rd base. You were on his heels and the home stretch was just feet in front.

You dove as Russell slid in. The ball touched his arm as his legs touched the plate. The whole team was yelling as you both looked at each other.

"Your out, Russell Adler. I got you." You said, with his face just inches from yours.

He chuckled, pulling closer to you.

"I'm pretty sure that was a tie, princess. But for you, I'll take out every time." He said.

Your eyes never left gaze. He inched closer and your heart dropped. His eyes were so beautiful, all you wanted to do was just trace his scar.

Your noses touched, and you almost screamed.

"Y/N" Russell said.

"R-Russel?"

"Can I kiss you?" He asked.

"Yes, please." You said.

Once your lips locked, sparks flew. You grabbed onto his head, locking your fingers in his hair as he sighed.

You heard cheering, catcalling, and a few 'get a room' from behind you. But you did not care. Russell slipped his tongue in your mouth and fought for dominance.

You heard a few clicks of a camera and soon pulled apart, a string of saliva still attaching you both.

You turned and saw Helen with a big smile, the camera pulled to her face. The whole team was cheering, Frank and Alex and Jason all cracked open a beer.

You and Russell both turned back to look at each other with a small blush. He got up and wrapped his arms around your arm to help you up.

Once you stood on both feet, his arm immediately went around your waist for support. You both smiled, as you lent on him. The light from the stadium captured this moment forever, and Helen's camera.

Everyone soon came to flank you both, and the boys lifted Russell into the air as the radio began to play the song you all loved so dearly.

"I don't wanna lose your love tonight, I just wanna use your love, tonight" it sang loudly.

Once the boys put him down, he came back over to you and held his hand out. You took it and locked your fingers.

"Come on Y/N, we have a bar to cause a commotion in," Russell spoke.

You laughed as you all walked off the field. You took one last look behind you at the field you'd never forget. Frank, Lawrence, Alex, and Lazar we're all singing along to the song.

Jason turned around and fixed his glasses, and pointed a finger toward you.

"Now I see why Y/N wanted to come to play baseball!" He exclaimed with a laugh.

Everyone laughed as you all piled in the van, and sped off.

YEARS LATER

The Y/L/N - Adler wedding went without a hitch. Everyone from the CIA was there, storming up a party. It was the middle of June, so it was perfect weather for the wedding and reception.

After the actual wedding, the real party started. Everyone was dancing, singing, playing games, and having fun. You looked out over the sea of people and smiled.

You felt arms wrap around your waist and a pair of lips attach to your neck. You jumped slightly.

"Frank, for the last time, Alex is over by the keg." You said jokingly.

"I'm not Frank, sweetheart." Russell said.

You leaned into his touch and brought a hand up to his cheek.

"Thank God." You laughed.

"You having a good time? Because I sure am. And I for sure will be when I get you on that plane." Russell said.

You scoffed and turned to look towards him.

"Please tell me you aren't taking me to another baseball field for our honeymoon." You joked.

"Damn! You foiled my plan! I was gonna have you be my sexy umpire too." He said with a laugh.

"I think it fits, us getting married the first place we declared our love. It was a pretty good idea." You said.

Russell relaxed to your touch as he watched everyone dance, and laugh.

"I would've had it any other way, babe. I love you."

"And I love you." You said as you faced him.

You locked lips as the lights in the stadium came on, just in time for sundown.

You knew you made the right choice, right here in the outfield.

Taglist: @smokeywhalee @wennbergbabe @kazazure @kapanovangswife @goawaypleasecryingemoji @xundeadqueenx @actuallyilya @little-miss-mason @americas-monster @direwolfspostsrandomshit @justagenderfluidstuff

[theendofthematerialgworl]

Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing

Summary: Marinette was pissed. And she decided that, rather than actively be the HBIC, she was going to show her other talent to the class. Based on the song Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing by Set It Off.

Word Count: 835

Warnings: Swearing, lots of it.

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

Marinette had been done with her class a long, long, long time ago. And nothing she was doing was working to get that point across.

So, it was time to do one last thing.

She made her own outfit: A black leather jacket with silvery angel wings on the back, a black skirt, a dark red crop top, and black fishnets. She didn’t know how to make shoes, so she bought a pair of knee-high, heeled black boots. She also wore black fingerless gloves that she had made, and painted her nails the same dark red as her top. She did her makeup in a much more exaggerated fashion than she usually did, and used temporary dye on her hair to dye to tips dark red. She bought a black choker with a small red gem as well.

Then, she was ready.

Marinette wore her normal outfit to school, planning to change it later. Her class had to think that everything was completely normal.

Lila, apparently, had lost her voice, and was now writing on a white board.

I wish I could perform in the talent show, what with my song training from Lou & Lenni-Kim

The class nodded sympatheically. “It’s okay, girl!” Alya said. “I’m sure you’ll be able to perform during the next tallent show!”

Thank you

“Of course, I hope you feel better!”

Thanks, Alya, you’re the best!!!

“Anytime, girl.”

The talent show was set to be during their free period. Marinette changed and did her makeup during the break just before, then hid backstage and out of sight until it was her turn.

“And now, Marinette Dupain-Cheng!”

Marinette stepped out onto the stage, noting how one section of the crowd was suspiciously silent.

The music started, and Marinette tapped her foot slightly, waiting.

“Ha ha ha, this is about you.” She began, staring directly at Lila.

“Beware, beware, be skeptical

Of their smiles, their smiles of plated gold

Deceit so natural

But a wolf in sheep's clothing is more than a warning!” Marinette walked about the stage, putting special emphasis on looking at her class.

“Bla-bla-black sheep, have you any soul?

No sir, by the way, what the hell are morals

Jack, be nimble, Jack, be quick

Jill's a little whore and her alibis are dirty tricks.” She snarled at Lila.

“So could you,” Marinette prepared to belt the lyrics, putting all of her emotion into her words. Her anger and hate, her frustration at her classmates for not listening to her. Everything.

“Tell me how you're sleeping easy

How you're only thinking of yourself

Show me how you justify

Telling all your lies like second nature

Listen, mark my words, one day

You will pay, you will pay

Karma's gonna come collect your debt.” Marinette went back around.

“Aware, aware, you stalk your prey

With criminal mentality

You sink your teeth into the people you depend on

Infecting everyone, you're quite the problem

Fee-fi-fo-fum, you better run and hide

I smell the blood of a petty little coward

Jack, be lethal, Jack, be slick

Jill will leave you lonely dying in a filthy ditch

So could you

Tell me how you're sleeping easy

How you're only thinking of yourself

Show me how you justify

Telling all your lies like second nature

Listen, mark my words, one day

You will pay, you will pay

Karma's gonna come collect your debt.” Marinette paused as the song became much more hopeful, the music changing.

“Maybe you'll change

Abandon all your wicked ways

Make amends and start anew again

Maybe you'll see

All the wrongs you did to me

And start all over, start all over again.” The music changed one more.

“Who am I kidding?

Now, let's not get overzealous here

You've always been a huge piece of shit.” Marinette spat out her words at Lila and her class.

“If I could kill you I would,

But it's frowned upon in all fifty states.

Having said that, burn in HELL!” She belted her words, shocking her school. None of them knew she could sing, much less like that.

“So tell me how you're sleeping easy

How you're only thinking of yourself

Show me how you justify

Telling all your lies like second nature

Listen, mark my words, one day

You will pay, you will pay

Karma's gonna come collect your debt

Karma's gonna come collect your debt

Karma's gonna come collect your debt!”

There was a pause from the crowd while Marinette panted.

Suddenly, the crowd burst into cheers.

They loved it.

The video would go viral overnight.

“I can’t believe she’s so good!” Lila was not happy.

Marinette had walked back into the classroom as if nothing had happened, still in her outfit from the talent show.

“She can’t be so good, she just can’t!” Lila raged.

“Oh, I definitely am that good, Lila.” Marinette said, smirking as she sat down at her seat at the back. “And I thought you had lost your voice?”

And that was end of Lila Rossi.