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echo-three-one · 3 years

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Whatever It Takes : RELOADED

Ghost fights his hurt feelings and discovers something in the process. Could this be the key to locating Samantha?

Table of Contents

Previous Chapter : Delayed Flight

Chapter 18 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Lurking in the Shadows

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Task Force 141 - Disbanded

400 meters east of Safe House 110197, Brazil

Ghost checked his phone by the hotel nightstand. It's 3:34 am and not a single notification from the team. They probably believed he was out to get intel and didn't bother to look for him. He was fine with that.

"What time is it?" a female groan murmured beside him as she circled her soft arms around his bare chest.

"3:34" he whispered, making the girl giggle as he ran his hand on her hair.

"We aren't supposed to be cuddling like this, remember?" She said, sighing as she got up slowly. Ghost immediately followed, groaning as well.

"I'm sorry Alexandra. It's just…"

"Don't worry. I know this sounds too odd for you at the moment. To be honest I got carried away too…" the interpol agent frowned and wrapped herself up with a towel, making her way to the showers. Ghost trailed his eyes at her and sighed.

"What have you gotten yourself into, Simon?" he murmured and turned to his phone, rereading their conversation.

It was as clear as day that they both agreed to this whole "No strings attached" thing together and he only said yes because he was too broken about France. He needed someone who could treat him well but this was the closest thing he could find.

Sure, he had no regrets about the woman, she was amazing, but while his body was happy, the heart yearned for something more. It was getting worse every day especially when he woke up to see the two lovebirds chasing against each other around the house.

Just as he placed his phone beside hers, Alexandra's notification tone beeped and her screen lit up, as it showed a message from an unknown number.

Simon wanted to take a peek but the message itself is encrypted, his mind wandered more as the security detail of such a message meant that it was of high importance. It might've been from the EMP machinery they're still investigating on which could also be a lead to Nero. He's debating whether he's going to ask her for information just as he intended to, but he's scared that she'll think he's just using her.

"Hey, you got a message." Simon called her from the bed.

"Who's it from?" she asked, her voice was faint as the shower sounds concealed it. Ghost wore his pants and grabbed her phone, leaning by the bathroom door as he announced the details.

"It's encrypted." he murmured. The water stopped pouring and the shower curtains peeked open.

She didn't even bother how she looked as she quickly wiped off her fingers and grabbed her phone.

"Shit." she cursed scrolling to the contents of text, which Ghost observed as very lengthy.

"Wh-" he paused and hesitated. He didn't tell her of their little rogue act so any questions might come off as suspicious.

"Shepherd wants to exchange Samantha for the I.P. Address." she mumbled, looking at Ghost.

"What's his deal?"

"To fund his EMP Nuke that he'll get from Nero." she replied as she continued scrolling.

"With New York already in chaos, the President would most likely be desperate enough to fund this, now that the economy is in shambles."

"What's stopping them from fighting against the New York attacks?"

"We have no idea where the small EMP interferences are, and our strongest lead is that the missing persons are being manually controlled to travel and situate themselves near the stock exchange where they blindly emit blasts through their phones. Like the one we found back in Europe."

"They walk and interact like normal civilians, so with millions of people around the city. It'll look like we're looking for a needle on a haystack." She added, wrapping herself with a towel and quickly dressed up.

"Where are you going now?" He asked as she walked past him.

"I'll try to talk some sense into someone who can talk some sense to the president. The EMP nuke is not a joke." She spat, the worry in her eyes made Ghost want to console her. But now was not the time for that.

"Can I ask a question?" Ghost said.

"Be quick." She said, putting on her jacket and collecting her stuff.

"Do you have any idea where Shepherd is?"

The sun wasn't up when Ghost decided to return to the Safe house. He expected that it'll still be closed but it looked like Price and Jack were already sipping coffee by the balcony.

"Where have you been?" Price asked, his tone wasn't that strict so Ghost decided to lie.

"I just took a walk around the town." he replied, hoping that there will be no more follow up questions.

"For Twelve hours. Okay." Price noted as Ghost got inside the house. Ever since he started this little team of rogue soldiers, Price became protective. And Ghost knew that it was bound to happen. Any injuries under his care will not be funded by any higher department and they need to be careful.

He immediately accessed their little command center and began searching. He got two locations to research on, and he needed to act fast.

He did the best he could, hacking into public and unsecured CCTV footage, squinting his eyes over the poor quality videos just to look for Samantha. She was last spotted in Moscow about 30 minutes ago. Ghost had to admit his cryllic knowledge is a little low and his fingers were trembling in panic. He needed help.

He slowly creaked the door open and saw Alex, Soap and Roach peacefully sleeping, Roach was upside down and clung onto Alex's metal leg, a sight worth taking a photo on but he didn't. It almost made him guilty to wake John up, but knowing the guy, he'll understand the urgency.

"Psst." he nudged his shoulders. It felt very awkward now that he's still frustrated about the guy winning France's heart but he needed to act professional, besides no one but Alex knows about his emotions toward the duo.

Soap groaned and slowly opened his eyes, flinching at the skull face that woke him up.

"Bollocks!" he exclaimed, making Alex and Gary shuffle and reposition while Ghost quickly pulled his mask and shushed him.

"Sorry Soap. But I need your help." he whispered as he slowly got up and collected himself following him outside.

"What about?" his heavy accent echoed against the quiet halls while he rubbed sleep off his eyes.

"Russian Alphabet."

"Okay." he murmured lazily. "What for?"

"A lead on Samantha." he said. The expression on Soap's face changed from sleepy-scotsman to what-are-we-waiting-for as he jumped to the control center and began typing.

The two teamed up together translating codes of texts and typing commands on different kinds of webcams all across Russia, all they had was a barely readable plate number of a black van which allegedly housed Samantha and three of Shepherd's men which were designated to protect her.

Hours passed and they barely got through any possible lead. The rest of the team woke up one by one and slowly helped the duo. Once Alex woke up, they got another additional pair of hands to help and it made them more efficient. If only Ghost knew that Alex knew Russian, it would've been less awkward. But then again, he needed this kind of interaction with Soap, so he could finally be comfortable around them.

Then there it was. The first solid lead with Samantha's face on it. A hotel not far from the airport. Alex couldn't help but creep his head close to the monitor, his eyes had that longing look on the blurry screen. He was sure it's her.

They later reported their findings to Price and Jack, and it was indeed a lead worth pursuing. But when asked how they got such info overnight, they all turned to Ghost to which he said that it's still within the phone's encrypted messages. Price and Jack nodded and Ghost sighed in relief. He didn't want anyone to know about his little fling.

"Then let's have breakfast and have a little briefing after. I'll make calls to Nikolai to arrange us a visit to his homeland." Price announced as everyone, especially Alex's, face lit up and felt energized.

HAPPY TRAVELER INN PARKING AREA

MOSCOW, RUSSIA

8:52 PM

Ghost set up his little command set up at the back of the van. The plan was easy, Alex, Soap and Roach sneaked inside her room, silently knocking down the three guards, taking their clothes and escorting her back to the van to safety. While Price would take down their driver and replace the getaway vehicle with this one.

The group of five didn't bring any weapons so as to not raise suspicion, after all they're just sneaking Samantha from Shepherd's hands. No need for violence.

"Can you hear me, lads?" Ghost muttered softly against the microphone.

"Loud and clear, mate." Gary responded.

"Yes pal." Alex commented.

"Aye lad. I can hear ye." Soap added.

Price gave a thumbs up from the driver's seat. Ghost pressed some buttons and after a few moments, he now had access to the whole building's cameras and some controls.

"Chuckles, I'm in." Ghost commented to which Gary snickered. It looked like he was the only one who understood the reference.

"Okay lads. The janitors are on their break. They're inside that incoming elevator." Ghost informed as he looked at the live feed. The three carefully grabbed the janitors without intention of hurting them. Carrying some rope and cloth, they quickly tied the janitors and hid them on a blind spot away from the camera's eyes. Ghost could hear Alex muttering something to the three in Russian, he couldn't translate it fully but it had the word sorry, don't worry and okay in it. After that, they immediately wore their janitor uniforms and the janitors were already on their way to the 10th floor.

"I don't have cameras inside the rooms. But your hallway is clear."

"Okay. Your ride home is ready." Price muttered, Ghost never noticed the old man exit the van but apparently he already took care of the driver.

"Great. It's all on you three now. Let's save Samantha." Ghost said as the cameras show three janitors knocking on Samantha's room.

Next Chapter : Vlad the Janitor

Notification Squad my Beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @ricinbach @enderio @beemybee @whimsywispsblog

#horrayfic #john soap mactavish #john price #simon ghost riley #alex echo 3 1 #gary roach sanderson #whateverittakes #horRAYfic

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pogueshomecoming · 4 years

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sunset boat trip - JJ Maybank x reader

requested? yes: @5secondsofsleeping Hiya! I was wondering if you could do a jj x reader where the reader is a photographer, and maybe she asks the pogues to join on one of their boating trips so she can get pictures of the sunset, but jj is really intrigued with her and wants to ask her out ! If you can’t that’s ok, thank you! :) stay safe (hi! I loved this request! Thank you so much. I hope you’re staying safe as well.❤️)

fill out this survey to join my taglist(s), here’s my masterlist, and requests are open

warnings: a lot of cute JJ fluff. Like two swear words I think. I love this.

word count: 1.9k

The Pogues had just gotten done eating at the Wreck, thanks to Kie convincing her parents to provide them with a meal.

Pope and JJ were messing around, pushing each other side to side as the four of them walked down to the dock where the HMS Pogue was tied up. That’s why they literally collided into John B when he stopped abruptly. Kie was trailing behind, so she stopped in time.

“Bro, JB, what’s up with that?” JJ asks, not looking at him but bending over to pick up his hat off the ground.

John B holds up a finger, telling him to shush, then points toward the boat.

JJ’s eyes follow and find you. You’re taking steps back and forth, leaning in different directions, trying to get a proper angle with a camera stuck as close as possible to your face. He can’t see your full face, but he’s mesmerized by how you scrunch your nose as if it helps make the picture more perfect.

“Woah.” JJ doesn’t realize the word slipped from his mouth until all three of the Pogues look at him. His cheeks turn rosy from embarrassment, which never happens for JJ.

“Hey, can we help you?” John B steps forward, trying to get your attention.

It obviously startles you, but you recover quite nicely, turning around to face where the voice came from. JJ sees your eyes widen slightly, probably because you expected one person, not four.

“Oh, hi. Is this your boat? I was just taking some pictures. I’ll delete them if you want. Sorry if I was in your way.” You step to the side, letting go of your camera, so it hangs around your neck.

“No, no need to do that. It’s about time somebody appreciates the Pogue and all of her beauty.” John B laughs, turning to narrow his eyes at his friends.

“Are you new here?” JJ ignores John B’s banter. He’s really only interested in you.

“Uh, yeah. My family travels during the summer so I can practice my photography. Not sure how long we’ll stay.” You shrug, shying away under the blonde boys stare, but he doesn’t mean for it to come off as overbearing as it did, so he looks away.

“Cool. I’m Kie, this is Pope, JJ, and John B.” Kie speaks up, pointing at the boys in the order they’re standing in front of her.

“I’m Y/N. Are you guys... are you about to go out for a ride? I’d love to get some pictures of the sunset from somewhere other than the beach.” You watch them all share a glance with each other.

“Sure, we’ve always got room for one more. Let’s go.” Kie smiles.

John B passes you, jumping into the boat with no hesitation. Pope gives you a curt nod. JJ moves past you, trying not to look at you. And Kie motions for you to go ahead of her, muttering something about the boys not knowing how to be gentlemen.

You make yourself comfortable at the front of the boat, snapping pictures as you cruise out of the populated area. The four of your new friends seem to have gone silent, but you don’t mind. You meet new people every day, and awkward isn’t a feeling you get.

What’s actually happening behind your back is Kie trying to nudge JJ to go sit by you, but he refuses. He stands next to John B, pretending to be okay with having nowhere to sit. Until John B suddenly changes speeds, sending JJ stumbling forward.

Thankfully, he catches himself before he reaches you, but now he’s close enough that you know he’s there.

“Hey, JJ, right?” You turn. His face is red, and his hair is messy.

“Yeah. I was wondering if I could see the pictures you took of the boat earlier.” JJ scratches at his neck, and you smile.

“Really? Sure, sit down.” You scoot over a little bit even though there is plenty of room. Showing people the pictures you take is almost more exciting than taking them.

JJ sits down next to you, and you put the camera in his hands, leaning over him a little to show him which buttons to press and scroll through them. You’re more focused on his face than the pictures because you want to see his reactions, but you do it discreetly.

“Woah, hey, JB, she got a picture of the dent you put in the side with my head.” JJ laughs, his smile lighting up his whole face as he turns the camera toward the other three.

JJ proceeds to look back at you and explain the story behind every big scratch or mark he can see in the pictures. It was one of the reasons you’d stopped to take photos of the boat anyway because it had so much more character than all of the spotless yachts around it.

“Y/N, does this look like a good place to stop? We can keep going if you want.” John B interrupts JJ’s story about the time he melted the leather seat with his lighter. On accident, of course.

“Oh, do whatever you normally do! I’m just along for the ride.”

Pope, Kie, and John B immediately start stripping out of their clothes. As soon as you realize they’re going to jump in, your grab your camera from JJ to adjust some of the settings and start snapping photos.

You get a few of them resurfacing and smiling and laughing at each other, but then you move on to taking pictures of the horizon. It’s a gorgeous rust orange color with a hint of golden hour sun. The best time.

JJ coughs, and you realize he’s still sitting near you, watching you bend and twist to get angles you want. When you turn to look at him, the glow is hitting him in the prettiest way.

“You don’t want to swim with them?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“No, I’d rather stay up here with you if that’s alright.” JJ can’t tell what it is about you that’s so intriguing, but he doesn’t want to leave your side.

“Can I take some pictures of you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, the lighting is perfect right there.” He looks perfect right there, you think.

“Oh, uhm, yeah, what do you want me to do?”

“I’m actually going to get some close-ups if you don’t mind.”

JJ gives you a small smile, motioning his hand to provide you with permission to come closer. You get some great pictures of his side profile that are more so of an outline with the way the light is behind him. You have him turn toward the sun and get really close, capturing the sunset in the reflection of his ocean blue eyes.

When you lower the camera to look at it, you don’t realize that you didn’t lean away from him. He looks at the small camera screen with you, gasping at how amazing your skills are.

“You have really nice eyes.” You tell him, looking up to see he’s only inches away.

“Thank you,” JJ speaks softly because of your close proximity. For a moment, you’re lost in each other’s gaze. Until he stands up, holding out his hand.

“My turn, let me take some of you. You’re right about the light looking perfect.”

Reluctantly, you hand over the camera. You’re definitely more comfortable behind it than you are in front, but JJ makes it fun. He’s constantly talking, for one thing, asking you which buttons do what and stuff in that nature.

JJ is also hyping you up. Playfully, of course, things like “Yes, girl, work it!” or “Come on, give me a smile. I know you got one.” And your personal favorite, “Absolute model material right here.”

And by the time he hands you the camera back, the rest of his friends are done swimming and returning to the boat. The oranges and reds of the sky have turned into dark purples and blues, so it’s time to head in.

JJ sits next to you, ready to see how his pictures turned out, but you shiver from the wind. He gets up immediately, grabbing his towel that went unused from the seat across from you, and wraps it around your shoulders. You smile at him, but both of you miss the raised eyebrows of the three pogues at the back of the boat. Kie snaps a picture of the two of you, just in case you’d want to see it on your wedding day.

As the two of you scrolled through the pictures JJ snapped, it was apparent very early that JJ didn’t know how to focus the camera. Meaning they weren’t very clear, and he was upset.

“Damnit, I was trying so hard! Yours are so cute, and mine are shit.”

“Did you just call yourself cute?” You look over at JJ, and even in the low lighting, you can see him blush.

“Oh, I... No. Did I? You’re cute, is what I meant to say.” JJ recovers nicely, leaving it your turn to blush.

“Sorry, you probably expected some good quality pictures of you, and I couldn’t do that.” JJ sighs, running a hand through his coarse hair.

“No, no, it’s fine. It was fun, and the blurriness will always remind me of how much you made me laugh.” This makes JJ smile again, a sight you love to see.

The rest of the ride is pretty calm. Kie comes to sit with you two and asks about all of the places you’ve been to. You use your phone to show her some of your favorites, and JJ is awestruck by your talent.

“Should we drop you back at the Wreck, Y/N?” John B asks, slowing down as he enters the channel.

“Yes, please, my bike is there.”

Soon enough, it’s time to say your goodbyes.

“Thank you guys for letting me tag along. I had a lot of fun.”

“We’re always around, you can join us any time.” John B salutes you, and you wave goodbye to Pope and Kie.

“I’ll walk you up to your bike,” JJ tells you, nodding at the others to wait for him.

His hand is resting lightly on your back while you make your way up the pier. There’s your bike, locked to a bike rack outside the end of the restaurant.

“So... did you really have a good time tonight?” JJ asks, clicking his tongue.

“Yeah, I did. I love the island in general. You guys are so nice, so carefree.”

“Enough of a good time to stay for a while?” JJ raises his eyebrows like he’s hinting at something, and you understand immediately.

“I think I could be convinced.” You tease, pushing a piece of your hair out of your face.

“Would you want to go on a date? Meet me here tomorrow night at seven. Wear something cute and bring a swimsuit.” He rocks back on his heels, waiting for a response. You pause unlocking your bike lock for a second.

“Alright. I’ll do that. See you then.”

You take a step forward, pushing onto your tiptoes and pressing your lips gently to his cheek. JJ smiles as you step away, giving you a nod and a small wave as he turns around and retreats back down to the dock.

Instead of continuing to enter your combination, you step around the edge of the building, just a tad. You watch JJ skip to the boat, throwing his hat down as he jumps in.

“She said yes!”

thank you for reading! don’t forget to reblog if you liked it or send me feedback :)

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starryknight09 · 4 years

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Unforeseen dangers ch. 4

Summary: As Peter recovers from his capture by Ross, a photo of him with Tony and the Avengers leaks and is splashed all across the media. Luckily, no one can figure out who he is and everyone thinks the buzz will die down. However, the public’s interest has been ignited. While Tony worries it’s only a matter of time before Peter’s identity is exposed, Peter isn’t as concerned. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen anyway?

Read on AO3.

________________________________________________________

A knock sounded on Peter’s bedroom door just as he finished the last equation of the problem set in front of him.

“Kid, can I come in?” Tony’s voice came from the other side of the door.

“Sure.” He answered.

His dad walked in, a tense expression on his face. He wondered if it was from the same thing that’d put a similar look on Pepper’s face.

“Doing your math homework?” Tony asked when he got close enough to see the open textbook and the sheet of paper with the completed problem set to the side of it.

Peter nodded. “I just finished it.”

Tony ruffled his hair. “Want me to check your answers?”

“No I got it.” Peter said, trying to fix his mussed up curls.

His dad watched him fondly for a moment, amusement warring with worry on his face.

Peter frowned. “Is everything ok?”

“Everything’s fine,” Tony answered quickly, “but there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Peter’s heart leaped to his throat. Had Tony figured out Peter’s plan to change his name? Was he unhappy about it? But how had he found out? Pepper wouldn’t have told. Had someone else? Or was it just his dad’s uncanny ability to somehow know everything that happened in his Tower? Maybe FRIDAY had squealed?

“Um what-what’s up?” He asked, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt.

His dad sighed, sliding his homework off to the side so there was a clear spot on his desk where he could sit down.

“Watch any TV recently?” Tony asked.

Peter blinked. That was not at all what he’d been expecting.

“Um I watched a few episodes of Love it or List it last night.”

“I thought I told you that show would rot your brain.”

“I like it.”

Tony shook his head with a sigh, but Peter could tell he didn’t actually care.

“What about today? Did you watch anything today?”

“No. Why? Did something happen?” Had some sort of world catastrophe occurred that he was unaware of?

“Yes…and no.” Tony answered.

“Wow that’s cryptic.” Peter joked, trying to lighten the solemn mood that’d fallen over his room. “Are you actually going to tell me or am I supposed to guess?”

Tony took a deep breath as if to bolster himself before he answered, “Someone leaked a photo.”

“Ok…” That answer was just as vague.

“A photo of us.”

Peter’s mouth fell open as he tried to absorb the words and what they meant. “What? But who would—? When did—?” He could only get out clipped, incomplete fragments, but his dad seemed to understand all the same.

“Some government aide leaked the photo of us together on the couch after the Accords signing. The press is having a heyday with it.” Tony answered.

Peter winced. Oh. That was bad.

Tony continued, “It’s playing on all the major network stations. Everyone wants to know who you are and what your connection is to me.”

Peter frowned, staring blankly at his math homework for a moment as he tried to process the news.

“What-what does this mean?” He asked, looking up to meet Tony’s worried eyes.

Tony licked his lips and answered slowly, “It means…we’re going to have to be a lot more careful in the future to not be seen together.”

“But why? If they already know who I am?” Peter didn’t really understand. Why did they need to be careful if the cat was already out of the bag?

“No. They don’t know.” His dad shook his head. “The photo isn’t very good quality. I can barely tell it’s you. They just know I was sitting with some kid.”

Peter scrunched his nose, not really loving that description. “So what are we going to do about it?”

“Nothing. We’re going to do nothing and let it run its course and eventually it’ll die down. We’re not telling anyone who you are or what your relationship with me is. But like I said, we’re going to have to be careful. We can’t go out in public together for the time being. One good photo and they might be able to figure out who you are.”

“And that would be bad.” He said, but it came out more as a question.

Tony frowned as he answered, “Yes Peter, that would be bad. If the press found out you were my son, they’d hound you nonstop, and it wouldn’t be for only a couple weeks. It’d be forever. The unfortunate curse of being a Stark.”

Peter swallowed hard, thinking of the paperwork he’d just signed to officially make himself a Stark.

“And that wouldn’t even be the worst part.” Tony explained, looking stricken. “Certain people might see you as a tool they could use to try to get to me. You’d never be safe, and I don’t want that for you.”

“They could try,” Peter smiled, trying to reassure his dad, “but I’m Spiderman. I’m not so easy to get to.”

“Don’t underestimate the crazies.” Tony shook his head. “It’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

“So, if we’re not going to do anything about it, then why are you telling me?” He asked.

“Because I want you in the loop. In case things come up or go wrong, I want you to know how serious it could be.”

“Ok. I guess that makes sense.” Peter’s brow furrowed as another thought struck him. “Wait. Is this the emergency Pepper got called back to deal with?”

Tony nodded.

Peter immediately felt guilty. Because of him, because of something to do with him, Pepper had needed to run back to work to deal with the fallout.

Tony must’ve seen the guilt on his face. “Don’t worry kid. Compared to some of the things I’ve put her through, this is nothing. And the game plan’s simple. We’re doing nothing. We’re not confirming or denying anything or making a statement. It’s literally no extra work for Pep.”

“I don’t know.” Peter mumbled. “She looked pretty stressed.”

Tony waved a hand in dismissal. “She’ll be fine. Believe me. The woman’s as tough as nails.”

That got a smile out of him. “I know.”

“Good.” His dad ruffled his hair again and he groaned in fake complaint. “You’re done with your homework, right?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. He’d done the problem set he’d been working on, but he still had a mountain load to do by the end of winter break.

“What do you say we go down to the workshop and work on the new updates to my suit?”

“I’m in.” He stood, always eager to work on the Ironman armor.

Tony got off the desk and wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they walked out of his room and to the workshop together. It should’ve been comforting but Peter still didn’t feel completely at ease. Even though Tony had tried to reassure him, he couldn’t shake the troubled look on his dad’s face from his mind.

“Hey Ned.” Peter answered his phone as he laid on his mattress. Tony had sent him to bed an hour ago but he still hadn’t been able to fall asleep. The phone call was a welcome interruption from staring at the ceiling.

“Dude you’re on TV! You’re famous!” Ned erupted in excitement.

Peter groaned and rubbed his eyes.

“Have you seen the news? Like literally everyone is talking about you. I’m friends with a celebrity!”

“I haven’t seen it yet but I’ve heard.” Peter sighed. “And no one can know it’s me Ned. You have to keep it to yourself. You can’t even tell your parents, got it?”

“Oh man.” Ned whined. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. I mean it.” Peter reiterated. “Tony will flip if someone finds out that I’m the one in the picture.”

“You don’t think someone’s going to figure it out?”

“I don’t know. Tony didn’t seem to think so. I guess it’s not that great of a picture.”

Ned hummed. “Yeah it is pretty blurry. I might not have even known it was you except I knew it was you.”

Peter snorted.

“That sucks though dude. I thought I was going to be famous by proxy.” Ned said with disappointment.

Peter grinned. “I don’t think it works that way.”

“I already had an awesome tag line idea for my twitter.”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you want to hear it?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“It was going to be, ‘Best friend of Ironkid. Friend of the Avengers.’ What do you think?”

“I think maybe keep working on it.” Peter laughed. “And my name wouldn’t be Ironkid.”

“Are you kidding? The media’s not all that creative. If they found out you were Ironman’s kid I’m pretty sure they’d dub you Ironkid.”

Peter made a face in disgust. “Oh god I hope not. That’s reason enough to make sure they don’t find out.”

Ned laughed over the phone.

“So I guess for now I have to stick with secretly being Spiderman’s guy in the chair?”

“And Peter Parker’s best friend. Sorry.”

“It’s all right. I like that role better anyway.” Peter could hear Ned’s honest smile in his voice. “Besides, we both know I probably do better work behind the scenes than out in the spotlight.”

“Yeah and it might sound fun at first, but it would totally suck to not be able to go anywhere without being recognized.”

“Yeah you’re right. Although, I bet we could get some sweet Comic-Con tickets if people knew who you were.”

“Tony can get those for us anyway.” Peter rolled his eyes. “And if no one knows who I am, we can go and not get mobbed, and actually have fun.”

“I guess you have a point.” Ned agreed.

Peter heard muffled voices coming from across the speaker of Ned’s phone.

“Um sorry dude but my mom says I have to go to bed.” Ned said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Ok. Good night Ned.” Peter said with a smile.

“Good night.”

Peter plugged his phone back into the charger and set it on the nightstand. Fatigue leadened his eyelids, and he closed his eyes as he settled into his soft pillows. Talking to Ned had at least helped him finally destress. Sleep was no longer so hard to find.

“How does that feel?” Ross sneered at him as he stabbed a knife straight into his thigh.

Peter couldn’t hold back a cry of pain. He instinctively tried to grab the offending object but he couldn’t move his arms. They were tied behind him as he sat helpless in a chair.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Ross said with grim pleasure as he slowly twisted the knife.

It burned. Electric shocks of agony danced through his leg.

“Stop.” He moaned and crumpled forward at his waist, but he only had enough slack to make it a few inches.

Ross snorted in amusement.

“You want me to stop? Oh no. We’re just getting started.” Ross said and ripped the knife out of his leg. It hurt almost as much as getting stabbed in the first place and Peter cried out again. He panted as blood bubbled from the wound, too much too fast.

Ross leaned forward and placed the edge of the blood coated knife on his bare chest.

“No.” He pleaded. “Please.”

The corner of Ross’s lip twisted up in a crazed smile and he pressed down.

Peter watched as blood flowed out and around the knife as it carved into his skin.

“No!” He tried to thrash away but he couldn’t as Ross trailed the knife across his chest to form a burning line of red.

Peter couldn’t help it. He was crying now. It hurt. And there was so much blood dripping down his chest and out of his leg. He was going to die. Oh god. Ross wasn’t going to stop. He was going to keep going until he slowly killed him.

The man placed the knife a couple inches below the line of open skin and repeated the process, forming another crimson line of open flesh. Peter didn’t want to look but he couldn’t help it. The cuts were deep enough he thought he could see flashes of white bone underneath.

“Stop. Stop! Please.” He begged through his sobs.

Ross ignored him and continued the process, dragging the knife over his skin to make a third line.

Peter screamed. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t.

“Help! Someone please! Help!” He yelled hoarsely even though he knew it was hopeless. He was all alone with Ross.

“No one’s coming to save you.” Ross taunted. “Not even Daddy.”

Peter whimpered at that. He wanted his dad. Ross carved another slice across his front.

“Dad!” He screamed this time, clenching his eyes shut at the pain. He knew it was pointless and that Ross was right. Tony wasn’t coming to save him, but he couldn’t help instinctively calling for him. “Dad! Help! Please. Dad!”

Ross gripped his shoulders and gave them a firm shake. Why had Ross stopped hurting him? Peter’s eyes snapped open in confusion.

Instead of Ross, all he saw was a darkened figure leaning over him, holding his shoulders.

“You’re all right.” The figure soothed. Not Ross. Peter blinked and immediately recognized his dad. He took in the rest of his surroundings. He was in his room. In bed. He spread a hand across his chest but there was nothing there. His leg was fine too. Nothing hurt. It’d all just been a bad dream. Ross didn’t have him anymore. Right. Tony had saved him. And Ross was dead.

Tony sat perched on the edge of the bed and Peter wasted no time in sitting up and wrapping his arms around the man.

“You’re all right.” His dad repeated softly into his hair.

Peter closed his eyes and melted into the comfort.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled. He had no idea what time it was, but Tony was wearing pajamas so Peter knew he’d woken him up.

His dad shushed him and rubbed a hand over his back.

After a long minute of silent comfort, Tony said, “You were calling for me.”

Peter knew it was a question as much as a statement. His dad was offering him a chance to talk about his dream but he wasn’t going to force it.

“I was back there.” Peter whispered into Tony’s chest. “Ross had me.”

Tony made a sound of displeasure but Peter continued, “He was hurting me and he wouldn’t stop and I couldn’t get free and no one was coming to save me and I just wanted you.”

“I’m right here.” Tony said, squeezing him even tighter. “You’re safe.”

“It felt so real.” Peter mumbled.

“It wasn’t.” Tony tangled a hand in the hair at the back of his head. “You’re not there. And Ross is gone. He’ll never hurt you again.”

“I know. It’s stupid. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not stupid.” Tony said firmly. “What you went through was traumatic. Someone took you, held you hostage, and hurt you. I’d be surprised if you weren’t having nightmares about it. Hell, I’m having nightmares about it.”

“You are?” Peter pulled back and saw the truth in his dad’s eyes.

“Yeah.” Tony tried to smile as he palmed his cheek, but he just looked sad. “Of course. Someone took you from me and hurt you as a way to get to me. That’s the very definition of my worst nightmare.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.” Tony rubbed a thumb over his cheek. “You’re the most important thing to me. How many times do I have to tell you that before you finally start to believe me?”

“Lots.” Peter said and grinned. “Maybe because I like to hear it.”

Tony let out a short huff of amusement and dropped the hand on his face so he could ruffle his hair. “You seem better.”

“Yeah.” He agreed. He did feel better. With his dad so close, the fear from his nightmare seemed miles away now instead of lurking in the room. “Thanks.”

“Think you’ll be able to get back to sleep?” Tony asked. “It’s still pretty late.”

“I think so.” He said even though he wasn’t sure. The yawn that escaped him a couple seconds later seemed to contradict his doubts.

Tony nodded and stood, fluffing his pillow for him and then gently guiding him backward to land on it. Once he was settled, his dad pulled the covers up to his chin and brushed the hair off his forehead before lightly pressing a kiss there.

“Get some sleep.” His dad whispered.

Peter hummed in response, eyes already drifting closed. He expected to hear the door click shut as Tony walked out, but instead, a few moments later, he felt the other side of his bed tip. Peter cracked his eyes open and watched with a frown as his dad crawled into the other side of it.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Shh go to sleep.” Tony said, reaching a hand across the space between them to place it briefly over his eyes to close them. “I’m keeping the nightmares away.”

“Mine or yours?” Peter joked.

Tony chuckled. “Both.”

“Night dad.”

“Good night kiddo.”

“I love you.” He mumbled as sleep pulled irresistibly at him.

“I love you too.” His dad said back and Peter could hear all the fondness and love infused in the sentence. “Now go to sleep.”

Peter hummed tiredly in agreement. With his dad next to him, a sense of safety encompassed him, and he had no trouble slipping quickly back to sleep.

#unforeseen dangers #ch 4

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 4 years

Photo

two years too late, chapter t h r e e

You were sitting at your desk on Monday morning when the message came through. Alyssa’s name lit up your screen, the house emoji sat beside the small letters as your hand jerked forward to grab it out of habit.

Alyssa (10:21am): THERE’S A PHOTO OF US AND HARRY

Alyssa (10:21am): Can’t see our faces tho don’t worry

Alyssa (10:22am): Just the back of your head and my ear, really

Shit, shit, shit.

She’d attached the picture and sent it: your arm, your hand, your hair. Alyssa’s ear and jaw, Erica’s leather jacket and unmistakably, Harry’s shoulders and back. You looked it over again, studying the image as you pinched it to zoom in.

You couldn’t tell that was you. No way. Unless your mother or sister was looking, Jessie and Bryn might not even be able to tell. It was dark and the quality of the picture was poor but you could definitely see that you had a drink in your hand. You could also see that you were stood remarkably close to Harry.

Fuck.

You took a deep breath, hoping to steady your pulse and ignore the way your vision was blurry in the corners.

“Question!”

“Jesus!” You exclaimed, looking up quickly to see a startled Whitney with her hand on her chest--just as alarmed by your reaction as you’d been by her presence. “Sorry, hi.” You dropped your phone quickly, letting it crash down to your desk.

“Sorry, oh my god,” she let out a big breath, rebounding from the adrenaline as a laugh escaped her lips. “I was just hoping we could meet later. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“No, m’sorry--you just--proper scared me,” you said, leaning back in your chair and blinking a few times--your heart still catching up with your brain.

“Your performance review is overdue,” she said. “We were supposed to do it at the six month mark, but you know how things are,” she waved a hand to dismiss the timeline.

“Sure, yeah. After lunch?”

“Two-thirty? We can meet in my office.”

“I’ll come to you,” you nodded, offering confirmation before she turned to walk away.

You picked up your phone again quickly, new messages from Alyssa coming in faster than you could read them.

Alyssa (10:24am): OKAY just kidding there’s one of your face. Blurry though!!!!

Alyssa (10:24am): From down below. Someone must have taken it looking up to the balcony where we were?

Alyssa (10:25am): You would never know that was you

She was trying to reassure you, trying to keep your heart from beating out of your chest as all of the thoughts flooded through your brain like a tsunami, waves quick and forceful.

Okay, so it wasn’t like knowing Harry was the end of the world. You’d been doing that for nearly 13 years and you’d managed fine enough. The problem, as you saw it, was more along the lines that your employer and coworkers had no clue that someone your website wrote about frequently was recently spending his nights on your couch with a glass of wine in hand.

Something about that sounded weird, and you were sure that Whitney wouldn’t go for it.

You pulled up the new photo, holding the screen uncomfortably close to your face to study the grainy pixels. Of course--the one moment that he slung his arm around your shoulders was the one this person had chosen to capture.

Y/N L/N (10:26am): Where are these? Can we get the person to take them down?

Alyssa (10:26am): They came up on my instagram explore tab. Random fan accounts.

Y/N L/N (10:27am): Fuck.

Alyssa (10:27am): I don’t think you should worry. They’re so blurry you can’t even tell if you’re a man or woman.

Y/N L/N (10:28am): Great even better!

You dropped your phone into your desk drawer after telling Alyssa to keep an eye on the photos. She was right: they were blurry. You were hoping with everything in your soul that Carly was too busy to even check the internet today (unlikely, seeing as your job relied on that), or if she did, that she’d be too excited about the new gossip to even pause and consider the fact that the hair in the photo looked an awful lot like yours.

So you waited. You contemplated sneaking out to meet Alyssa for lunch, taking a look for yourself at the accounts that had uploaded the photos. You decided against it, though, when you realized that your absence might make you look even more suspicious. Flying under the radar as much as possible seemed like a good option.

You kept your head in your work: a list about the funniest memes about Christmas, a quick round up of the weekend’s best celebrity tweets. You heated up your lunch and ate at your desk, hoping to avoid Carly at all costs.

You were successful up until you slipped into the kitchen on your floor to fill up your water bottle, hoping to blend in to the late-lunch crowd. Carly stood with her back to you, but soon turned around, her festive red sweater made her hard to miss. Upon meeting eyes with her, you looked down to your watch, pretending as if you’d suddenly remembered a meeting you were late for.

You weren’t one to shy away from confrontation, but this one didn’t feel totally work appropriate.

“Haven’t seen you all day,” she said, pulling her lunch from the microwave before offering a smile. “Busy or what?”

“Swamped,” you lied, pushing your water bottle up to the cooler in defeat, the bracelets on your wrist clinking together. “Ate at my desk, been pretty productive, so s’all good.”

“Feels busy around here in general. Christmas and shit,” she shrugged. “There was breaking news this morning that Harry went out on a date this weekend. I don’t know if you saw it--pictures and everything,” she wiggled her eyebrows as if you’d bite at the bait.

You licked at your dry lips, a heat rising to your cheeks. “Really?”

She nodded, grabbing a napkin from the counter. “Can’t even tell who it is, probably some random model or something. I doubt it’s hard to find someone to sleep with when you’re Harry Styles, though, so--” she turned to head back towards her desk, calling over her shoulder. “Come find me later, we’ll grab a coffee and do edits together!”

You promised you would, thankful for the fact that she was an hour behind her target for the day and still hadn’t eaten. It gave you time to gain composure as you wove through cubes and conversations to make your way to Whitney’s corner office with sweeping city views.

A sunny and cold day on the other side of the glass windows reminded you that winter was here--the small amount of snow left reflected sunlight like a broken mirror on the ground. Whitney had a folder on her desk and waved you in when you knocked, cell phone up to her ear.

She ended the call and thanked you for making the time, telling you to shut the door behind you, affording privacy to your conversation about your numbers and pay and overall transition into The Scoop.

You told Whitney that you thought it was going well--you felt up to speed with the platform the website used, felt like you were staying on top of your category (even if it wasn’t your favorite). She complimented you on your ability to use humor in your stories and on social media platforms to enhance the mission of the website, she even said you’d been the second top writer for this quarter.

“Rarely happens with someone so new,” she smiled, leaning back in her chair as she crossed her legs. “But be real with me--are you liking it? What do you wish was different? Any big fears?”

You bit at your lip, contemplating whether or not to disclose your desire to cover more news. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful or entitled, but you also trusted Whitney to handle any feedback you threw her way. “I mean, I guess I’d be interested in doing some more long form stories. Editorials or something.”

She nodded, waiting to see if you had more to say. When you let your lips press back together in a thin line, she offered a small smile. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind,” she told you, her tone made it sound like she was letting you down easy. “Gabrielle does most of the editorial pieces and Carly handles a lot of the pop culture news stuff that comes up for the entertainment department.”

You nodded--you knew the hierarchy. Gabrielle had been here longer than both you and Carly combined. She was only a step or two below Whitney and she seemed to sniff out good stories like it was second nature. She almost never wrote a flop.

“Yeah, no, sorry, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” you said, already regretting the words that you’d let slip.

“You’re not ungrateful,” Whitney said. “You’re looking for more growth. I like that. I’ll certainly keep it in mind, Y/N.”

“I do have a random question,” you said suddenly, the four walls of Whitney’s office feeling like a safe enough place to play out a scenario of what ifs.

“Yeah?”

Whitney--as hip as she was--likely wasn’t paying attention to every waking detail of Harry’s life. You doubted she saw the photos and you figured you could be vague enough in your question.

“Has anyone here ever had a conflict of interest issue?”

“Conflict of interest?” Whitney spoke the phrase like she didn’t know what it meant. You knew she did, so you gave an example.

“Yeah, like, has anyone ever used their own tweets in a story or promoted a friend’s band or--I dunno, been friends with a celebrity that we cover?”

She let out a laugh, as if all of the examples were far fetched and unlikely. “I mean,” she shrugged. “Candace from beauty one time got in trouble downstairs for doing a whole write up on a makeup brand her sister was COO of,” she clenched her jaw and grimaced. “But no one up here--you’re all smarter than that.”

Right. Okay. So there was that.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Oh, just curious,” you waved a hand in the air, letting a forced laugh out as you looked out the window. “Sounds like a shit show.”

“Yeah--I mean, she got in trouble, but they figured it out. Anything else? I’ve got all of your stuff to proof before I head out early for yoga.”

“Nope, all good on this end.” You stood and gathered your water bottle and notebook.

Whitney reopened her laptop and checked her phone. “Thanks for meeting with me, Y/N. We love you here and you’ve been a rockstar.”

You offered her a smile, appreciative of the praise and encouragement. Once she let her eyes fall back to her computer, you hurried over to your desk, reaching for your phone and praying that the photo hadn’t traveled any father.

You composed a quick message to Harry.

Y/N (3:17pm): Coming to yours when I’m out of work. We need to talk.

The one problem about going to Harry’s after work was that he wasn’t home. So instead of storming into his apartment like you’d imagined, you had to wait patiently in a strange hallway in a big office building in Midtown.

You checked your watch obsessively. You’d only been there for seven minutes so far, but it still felt like too long. You were rehearsing the words in your head, tiny fragments of an argument playing out before you even had the chance to tell him about the photos or the anxiety that came with them.

You had no clue where you were. He’d sent another pin of his location and told you to text him when you arrived. A man at the front desk swiped a card for you to enter and instructed you to head to the 49th floor. So here, in another indistinguishable hallway (this time without a neon green wall), you waited.

“Hi, hey,” his voice sounded from a doorway behind you, your body instinctively moving in the direction of his voice before you even locked eyes. “Everything okay, what’s wrong?”

His arms tried to envelope you, but before they could, you put a hand up to his chest. “We have to talk.”

“Okay,” he drew the syllables out, his head dipping to the side as he looked past your shoulder. “Come with me,” he took your hand and pulled you back towards where he came. Through a doorway, past a few people. A fitting, you realized. He was at some sort of wardrobe fitting.

People stirred at tables beside you, yellow measuring tapes draped around their necks and white chalk stained their fingertips. He offered a smile to one woman in particular, one who seemed to be more interested in your presence than the others. He pulled you towards the other side of the room, your palm sweaty from the touch of his skin and the swirling desire in your head--the kind you tried (but failed) to ignore.

Eventually you were in a back stairwell--one that was similar to the hiding spot you’d found last week at work. The door shut behind you, and Harry leaned his head out to ensure that no one was around to eavesdrop, he turned to offer you his full attention. “Alright, go.”

“Did you see the pictures of us?”

“Pictures?”

“Pictures.”

“No.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for your phone in your pocket, pulling up Alyssa’s message and opening the two attachments she’d sent. “These.” You flipped it around to let his eyes scan over them.

He hummed and took the phone in his hand, the other reaching to rub the back of his neck. “I take it you’re not happy about it.”

His eyes raised to meet yours, your voice faltering as you spoke. “I--no, I just--I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to work where I work and be photographed with you.”

“Because of your friend?”

Carly--he meant Carly.

“No, not because of Carly. Because of me. It’s a conflict of interest, Harry. I can’t be your friend and potentially have to write a list about the ten funniest things you’ve ever said in interviews!”

He cracked a smile at this, but it faded altogether when you squinted up at him.

“Alright,” he cleared his throat. “I mean, it’s blurry,” he brought your phone back to his face and inspected it more. “You can barely tell that’s you. If I didn’t know what you look like, I wouldn’t even guess.”

You swallowed, wondering if he ever studied your features like you did his. The dip in his top lip, the way his eyes crinkled at the sides when he laughed.

“What’s the big deal, anyway? We’ve been friends forever, a lot of people do know that, you know.”

You couldn’t help but pull a face at his words. Friends forever? You corrected him. “Friends who haven’t had regular contact for the last, like, six years. Haven’t spoken at all in the last two.”

He let a breath out, one that told you he was bothered or angry or something. “Because I thought that’s what you wanted!”

You took a step back from him, suddenly overwhelmed as a thousand questions burrowed their way into your mind. “Whatever--I don’t even want to,” you cut yourself off. You weren’t ready to dig up the details of December 29th or launch into a conversation regarding the untethering of your friend group. “I just--I can’t fuck this job up, it’s a really good job.”

“You’re not going to fuck it up, Smalls!” His words were harsh now despite the use of your nickname, his eyes wider than before as he tried to reassure you. “It’s just a photo. No one will know that’s you. We’ll just be careful.”

It didn’t feel that easy.

“I mean, it might get you more reads, y’know.” A laugh tumbled out of his mouth with ease, a complete lack of awareness of the weight his words held. You pulled your eyes up to look at him, a heat in your chest present that he hadn’t ever ignited before. At least, not in the angry sense.

“Are you implying that being friends with you will further my career and that I should be thankful for that?”

“No, I didn’t--I just mean that people love to read your stuff anyway. S’hilarious. If people knew that we were friends, that would make people really interested in you--more than they already are,” he tried to soften his words, flatten out the intention as if he hadn’t meant what he said.

You shook your head, your gaze on the cement floor as you wondered why you even answered his text four days prior. Now, as the sun tried to peek through the dirty sliver of a window in the stairwell, answering felt like it was a bad choice.

“I--okay, Harry--I’ll see you around,” you turned on one foot, hand on the doorknob before he could get in front of you.

Monday, December 11th

Harry S (11:34pm): I’m sorry about today. I wasn’t trying to be a dick.

Harry S (11:46pm): Sleep well

Tuesday, December 12th

Harry S (10:19am): What are you up to after work?

Friday, December 15th

Harry S (1:15pm): Alright. You’re mad. I get it. I was a dick.

Harry S (1:15pm): Can we please talk?

You always wished you were strong willed. You could be, in a lot of ways. Like the time you and Jessie took a painting class and you were complete shit. You spent hours researching the right brushes for the right types of paint and eventually, you figured it out. The summer heat back home turned sticky as you’d paint in your bedroom at night, a fan blowing sweet relief until you’d climb into cool sheets.

Or even the time you’d decided to stand up to Holly McAdams in Year 3 when she told everyone that you had cooties. The playground went silent when you called her a liar and told her to put her energy towards good instead of evil.

But when it came to Harry--you’d never been so lucky. He always had a charm about him that seemed to seep into your brain and turn it all to mush, tiny roots that wrapped around your neurons and seemed to rewire you entirely. Which is why, on Friday afternoon, you finally broke and called him on your commute home.

“Hi,” you said into the phone, holding onto the handrail in your subway car as it rounded a corner. The reception was shitty underground, but you committed yourself to the phone call and would recognize a dropped signal as a sign from the universe that it wasn’t meant to be.

“Hi,” he said.

You waited, unsure if he’d launch into an apology or let you take the first step. Silence.

“Sorry I’ve been ignoring you. I was busy at work and I fucked up a list and Whitney has been out sick--” you realized you were doing it. You were apologizing when you hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d been the one to fuck up and now you were apologizing? You back tracked. “And yeah, I mean, you were a dick, so.”

He laughed, the sound immediately easing some of the tension between you. “I get that. I’m sorry--I should have known that you’re not,” he paused. A woman beside you sneezed into her elbow, you inched away from her to avoid contamination, sandwiched between strangers. “You’re not impressed by the fame,” he spoke dramatically, your lips involuntarily twitching towards the sky--or, in your current situation, the ground above.

“I’m sure not. Never have been, never will be.”

“Are you out of work now?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

You let out a sigh, you’d been dreaming about it all day. “Nothing--I’m going to sit on my couch and eat a bowl of cereal and pray that I don’t catch whatever is going around the office. I already kind of have a sore throat and I’m not trying to be sick for Christmas.”

“Well,” he laughed. “I wish you the best with that, then.”

A tangle of disappointment in your gut when he didn’t ask you to hang out.

“Thanks. I’ll--uh--talk to you later?”

“Yeah, Smalls, talk to you later.”

You hung up, sliding your phone back into your pocket and shrinking into your coat for the remainder of the ride. When you climbed the twenty three steps to ground level at your stop, the sun had already sunk below the skyline, traces of light sneaking between the buildings on your block.

Alyssa had worked from home for the day, turning the living room into an office as she sat sprawled out on the couch. She’d also been coming down with something--her nose red and dry from all of her tissue use.

“Hi,” she greeted, pulling out her headphones and looking up at you when you came through the door, the room once again lit with the glow of Christmas lights. “How was work?”

“Fine, long, T-G-I-F,” you laughed. “How do you feel?”

“Somewhat better. Still crappy, though. How’s your throat?”

You dropped your purse to the floor and hung up your coat. “Worse than this morning. I talked to Harry though.”

She pulled her earbuds out and grinned up at you. “Was he so apologetic? I feel like he’d feel so guilty knowing he upset you--”

You shot her one of those looks: the kind that told her she was getting too wrapped up in his charm and fame and good looks.

She cleared her throat. “But he was a dick so he should feel guilty.”

You kicked your shoes off, the leather of your boots falling against the wood floor before you settled into the couch. “He was apologetic--but it was quick. Who knows when I’ll see him next, maybe when we’re home.”

Alyssa bit her tongue--you could see that she had something to say but you didn’t press it, unsure if you had the emotional energy for a conversation about why being friends with Harry again wasn’t the smartest idea.

She looked back to her screen, finishing up a few emails as you sunk into the couch, your eyes glued to your phone as you read through comments on the picture of you and Harry.

I bet she’s just a friend--they look totally platonic.

HE’S TOTALLY DATING SOMEONE!

Skjdhfkjdshfkjdhk!!!!

The picture is way too fucking grainy how are we supposed to sleuth this one out?!

Alyssa sighed and closed her laptop. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Ugh,” you let out a groan, exiting out of instagram quickly to avoid showing her the things people were saying. If you had to guess, you’d say that Alyssa had a similar nightly ritual over the past few days. Wash her face, brush her teeth, climb into bed and read what strangers were saying about you online.

The only good thing, really, was that people didn’t know it was you.

“I’m not in the mood to cook,” you said.

As soon as the words left your mouth, your phone buzzed on the coffee table, the same obnoxious picture of Harry in an apron lighting up the screen as you both brought yours eyes down to the buzzing technology, then back up to each other.

“Answer it,” she said excitedly, her lips curling towards the ceiling.

You shot her a look as you reached for it. “Not on the first ring--can’t seem too eager.”

“As if you’re not eager,” she teased, returned the eye roll pleasantry, pulling a laugh from you as you answered the call.

“Hi,” you said quickly, pressing the speaker phone button and holding it in the air between the two of you on the couch.

“Hey--I’m following protocol and giving you a warning that I’ll be over in like--eh--four minutes.”

“What?” You asked. “Why?”

Alyssa looked around the room nervously, taking an inventory of the items that were hers. She sprung into action quickly, trying to declutter her home-office--notebooks, sharpies, her glasses and tissues were spread out around the living room space.

“I’ve got food. Figured you wouldn’t want to cook if you weren’t feeling well.”

Alyssa stopped dead in her tracks, turning to you with her hands over her heart and lips in a lovestruck frown, completely enchanted by his words. You lifted your middle finger in her direction before turning towards the back of the sofa. Alyssa headed into her bedroom.

“You don’t have to do that, I mean--thank you, obviously, but, I totally get it if you’re busy.”

“M’not,” he said simply. “Stuff is dying down now anyway since we’re leaving soon.” You noticed his pronoun choice, casually dropped into the sentence as he kept talking. “I’ll wait until the coast is clear, alright? Just buzz me in when I text you.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Alright.”

Alyssa popped back into the room when she heard you hang up, her brows raised suggestively.

“What?” You asked, your tone slightly defensive as she pulled her head through the neck of her sweatshirt.

“Just, interesting, is all. Awfully sweet of him.”

You stood from the couch, watching as she bent over once more to gather more of her belongings from the area rug below. “Oh come off it,” you said.

She pulled a face, confused by your slang as she reached for a pen that had wandered beneath the coffee table.

“S’not a big deal,” you edited your words so she’d understand. “We’re friends.”

She hummed in disagreement, you trailed behind her towards her bedroom, socked feet gliding along the hard wood. Alyssa’s room was dark, the beige walls covered in posters of bands and movies. Her bed was unmade and the floor was littered in clothing of days past.

You leaned against the doorframe. “How could you think we’re anything more than that after hearing the full story of what happened that night?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, giving you a dismissive look. “S’been a while, things change. You don’t just bring food to your sick friend.”

“Sure you do,” you narrowed your eyes at her. “That’s exactly what friends do, Lyss.”

She picked up a shirt from the floor and folded it into quarters. “Just seems like there’s always been chemistry. One shitty night--as embarrassing as it was--doesn’t mean there’s not chemistry.”

You thought on her words, careful to not let them settle too deep in your heart. They floated in the air in front of you, vanishing altogether when an electric buzz leaked through the intercom by the door.

You ran over--quick to make sure he could sneak in undetected--and held a thumb to the button to grant him entrance.

Seventy-three seconds until there was a knock on the door, a pizza in his hand, and a bottle of wine pulled from the shelf in the kitchen. Alyssa--who was never one to turn down some Pinot Noir--had chosen the nicest bottle you had. A gift from her mother when she got a promotion.

Eventually, the three of you were sat around the coffee table, throw pillows serving as seats as you reached for second slices. Music drifted from the small speaker on the bookshelf, the scene similar to that of last weekend, except this time Alyssa was here. It was funny how things with Harry could feel exactly the same as they’d once been, yet entirely different in the same breath.

“Did she ever tell you about the time that we stayed up all night at Jessie’s house when we were fourteen because of some stupid internet challenge?”

Alyssa pulled a smile, her eyes darting over to me quickly. “Of course she didn’t.”

“S’cause it was stupid. You’re the one who barely made it. Everyone else was fine but when five AM came you were seriously dragging.”

He contorted his face into one of mock-offense. “Excuse me for having good sleep hygiene and a healthy need for some shut-eye.”

“You guys were allowed to have co-ed sleepovers at fourteen?” Alyssa asked, holding a hand up in student fashion. She folded her pizza in half, a boat of cheese and grease and pepperoni.

You let out a laugh, knowing that Harry’d want to explain the mastermind plan that he and Adam had come up with nearly ten years ago.

“So we did this thing, where the girls would tell their mums that they were at someone’s house. So they’d say they were at Bryn’s, but Bryn would say she was at Y/N’s,” he smiled in your direction--the adrenaline of lying to your parents came back as a small wave, less exciting than in times past but still enough to keep a grin plastered to your face.

“And the guys would do the same. We always said we were at Adam’s though--and I dunno what Adam would say cause his parents never asked any questions. So then we’d go to Jessie’s because her parents were always away for work, and--yeah, madness would ensue.”

“S’where we first drank, pretty sure that’s where Adam finally called Sophie Kneeland and asked her out over the phone.”

“S’also where Smalls blacked out the first time when we were fifteen or sixteen,” he let out a laugh and turned to Alyssa.

Her eyes went wide as she folded her legs beneath her. Your stomach dropped though, seeing as now didn’t feel like a good time to recount all the times you’d done stupid things when you were drunk. You could probably spend hours on that topic alone.

“Okay--alright, anyway,” you said, clearing your throat quickly. A car horn beeped outside, momentarily shattering the safety of the cozy room.

“Hey, also,” Harry wiped at his mouth with a napkin and pointed a finger at your roommate. “Did you appreciate my warning--a whole five minutes!”

“Four,” you said, his eyes rolling in response to your correction.

“Better than zero,” Alyssa nodded, taking a sip of wine. “Maybe we can work you all the way up to asking before you show up,” she teased.

Harry frowned at this. A dimple appeared in his cheek and he looked over to you quickly. “I brought food--” his gaze drifted back to Alyssa. “And enough for you, if you forgot.”

“You should have seen her cleaning up all her shit in here,” you laughed. “Notebooks every where, like a bomb went off.”

“I was working,” she defended. “What did you do today, Harry?”

“Hmm,” he thought aloud. “Woke up at eight--went to the gym. Showered and finalized the set list for the next leg of tour. Had a meeting with my manager and PR team about what’s coming up after the holidays. Lunch, then I had to go back to a fitting for more wardrobe stuff. Talked with Erica about the flight home, side note,” he looked to you. “Then I got your call and decided to come here.”

You were both quiet for a second--Alyssa had been challenging him, her assumption that he’d had a quiet day that couldn’t have nearly been as busy as hers. He took a deep breath and took a swig of wine.

You knew that he was busy--you’d always assumed that being famous came with plenty of downfalls and responsibilities, but hearing them all listed out in succession without a breath in between made induced a wave of guilt to pass through your veins.

Of course it was hard for him to keep in touch, if even his slower days looked like that.

“But about the flight,” he pointed a finger at you and then set his wine glass down. “Two tickets on the red eye for the 20th. I’d say we could charter something but first class on the big planes is always really nice. They give you a free eye patch.”

“Eye patch?” Alyssa asked, her tone drifting up in confusion.

“The ones you sleep with.”

“Eye mask,” you nodded.

“Oh whatever, you knew what I meant,” Harry squinted his eyes and reached for the bottle for a refill.

“What do you mean a big plane, though? How big are we talking?”

“The double deckers--they have little cubbies in first class. Little doors and everything--super private, which is nice.”

“You fly on public planes?” Another question from Alyssa--your personal peanut gallery--as you watched Harry take the stopper out of the bottle before pouring more into his glass.

“Yeah--s’better for the environment.”

Alyssa’s eyes went wide and she got that same look when he’d said he was bringing food--her brain and heart melting inside her, almost spilling out onto the oriental rug.

“Alyssa,” you said her name quickly as you stood from your orange and yellow throw pillow seat. “Want to help me with something in the kitchen?”

“What? What do you need help with?”

“Uh,” you looked around the room, trying to think on your feet. “The leftovers--the pizza.”

Harry, sat on the floor between the two of you, looked up. “I can help.”

“No.” You said quickly. “You stay. Pick a new playlist,” you instructed, hoping that a responsibility would keep him occupied. You gave Alyssa a prompting look, causing her to reluctantly stand and follow you around the corner to the kitchen.

“Can you not with the faces?” You asked, turning around once you were shielded by the wall between the two rooms. “Any time he says something relatively endearing you look like you’re about to combust or orgasm or something.”

“If I was about to orgasm, you’d know it,” she smirked, her voice low and sultry as you rolled your eyes. You’d grabbed the pizza on your way, so you reached into a drawer for aluminum foil and then tossed the box into the garbage.

“You get my point.”

“I do--but come on, Y/N! He’s literally acting like your boyfriend! Buying you a plane ticket even though you already have one? Bringing you dinner because you mentioned in passing that you weren’t feeling well? And now he’s climate conscious, too?!”

You passed her the foil-wrapped pizza and she put it into the fridge. A shrug of your shoulders, as if to dilute the air around you.

“He’s alright,” you said, the words an act of self-defense, an antidote for the love potion Alyssa was verbally concocting.

She rolled her eyes when she turned around to face you. “Relax, will you? It’s alright to be into him.”

“No it’s not, Alyssa,” you said, your voice more firm now. “You don’t know him, okay? You don’t know what happened back then and the way our friendship was and--just, leave it alone, alright?”

She paused, her eyes scanning your face, both of you staring at each other in silence. The kitchen clock ticked on the wall, seconds scattered through the room.

Harry’s voice floated above the music from the other room, “some classic Christmas tunes, yeah?”

So you left it at that. There was no need to defend yourself more than you already had, the reasons stacking high as to why shouldn’t go down this road. Harry was on two feet in the living room, swaying back and forth to the music as Alyssa followed you back to the couch.

You poured yourself another glass of wine, watching as he playfully took Alyssa’s hand, spinning her into his side as they waltzed in circles around the coffee table.

You pulled your carryon closer to your body, wishing you could absorb it into your being as you forced your way past people already in line. Sorry, excuse me, sorry, thanks, gotta get by.

The airport was busier than you expected. Your mum had told you on the phone that the afternoon would be the worst time of day, a wave of relief washing over you when you confirmed that Harry had booked the red eye. That relief vanished altogether when you stepped foot into the bustling airport, children running, intercoms beeping.

Your passport was in your hand, the ticket slipped between pages filled with colorful stamps. An elbow into your stomach, you hiked the bag up your shoulder more.

“I’m so sorry, hi, name is Y/N L/N, I was supposed to board already, uh--my friend is already seated I think.”

The woman at the desk looked at you with an unimpressed stare, her fingers clicking on the keyboard as she held a hand out. You assumed she wanted your ticket, so you thumbed it out of the booklet and slapped it down.

Her eyes scanned the paper before the computer did, when it beeped, the expression on her face changed. “Oh, Miss L/N,” she smiled up at you. “No worries, we can take you to your seat right now.”

“Oh, I can, I’ll just take myself,” you said awkwardly, looking around to see who else she was referring to. Other gate workers were nearby, clad in the traditional British Airways uniforms as the airport continued to buzz with Christmas cheer. Apparently flying first class had its perks.

And you would have already been seated if you’d just agreed to travel to the airport with Harry, but you had plenty of things to tie up at work before heading out for a whopping 12 days. It wasn’t typical to take so much time off in a role like yours, but Whitney was feeling generous and you’d agreed to work a few days remotely.

So instead of sitting in the back of the same black Chevy Suburban with Roger narrating the drive, you’d crammed your suitcase into the trunk of an Uber and hoped that the traffic out to Long Island wasn’t impossible.

It was.

A man with a friendly smile took your bag from your shoulder, leading you around the counter and on to the jet way, veering left at the fork. The temperature shifted as you moved farther from the structure of the airport--the winter New York night seeping in through the cracks of the beige tunnel walls. Posters of happy travelers and airport workers smiled down on you, to fly, to serve. Their eyes watched you pad down the dull gray carpet towards the plane.

Smiles from flight attendants when you crossed the threshold, greeting you by name as your companion put an arm out, urging you in before him.

The interior of the plane was dimly lit a calming blue--the windows shaded electronically, making them appear to be black eyes into the night. You passed a galley stocked with coffee, tea, British Airways water bottles, heading down an aisle past cushioned seats--ones much nicer than the economy class you were used to flying. You’d assumed this was your section--each seat had armrests big enough for giants--but you passed through a curtain to find a section of small cubicles, not much different than your office.

One on each side, two in the middle.

“Had to give up the window for you,” you heard a voice sound from two rows ahead. A dimpled smile looked your way, when you met his gaze, you shook your head.

“This is incredible,” you looked around, taking in the sight of other suited men and bejeweled women settling in for the trip. “I didn’t even know shit like this existed.”

The man set the bag down on your seat, disappearing without a trace as Harry handed you something wrapped in plastic. “Your eye mask,” he delivered it with two hands, bowing his head to pull a giggle from your lips.

“Seriously,” you took it from him and let out a huff as you pushed the bag to the floor, slumping into the extra-roomy chair. “This is absurd. The traffic was terrible and I almost thought they wouldn’t let me on.”

“Shoulda come with me,” he said simply, his tone almost melodic. “The club they let you wait in is even better.”

You looked around again, surprised that Harry was able to exist in peace in front of so many strangers. “I can’t believe you fly on these--you don’t get mobbed?”

He handed you a packaged piece of chocolate from a small cubby in the wall in front of your chairs. A flat screen stared back at you, your fingers tugging at the wrapper before plopping the candy into your mouth automatically.

“Not really--these people are all too busy with their own shit,” he motioned around the room, both of your eyes landing on a man who was animatedly speaking into his cell phone. “A few pictures, maybe. If we’re lucky we’ll sleep.”

You nodded, content for a moment to just catch your breath, take in the surroundings of first class, and just be. Harry reminded you of the plans you’d set with your friends: a reunion at the Red Lion on the 23rd. It’d be the six of you for sure, but there’d likely be others who you’d all invite--running into other classmates at Sainsbury’s or Costa wasn’t unheard of.

You’d done the same thing in years past--your entire class heading for drinks and catch up conversations when everyone was back in town. The only difference was that this time, Harry would be tagging along.

If anything, you were more nervous about the six of you being back together than you were about seeing people like Maddie Winslow or even Kenny Tilley. None of them knew about that night. Luckily--as obnoxious and outlandish as they could be--Jessie, Adam, Jake, and Bryn had managed to keep their mouths shut despite knowing the ins and outs of what had happened.

Which, when you thought about it, meant Harry had, too. He hadn’t told anyone about the things you’d said or done. He didn’t rub it in your face or try to embarrass you in front of anyone else. The details of December 29th, 2015, would hopefully stay between the six of you for a long time to come.

After a good fifteen minutes on the runway, the plane was airborne. Estimated flight time six hours and thirty-five minutes, if we’re lucky, the captain said. You told Harry about your week and the things you’d rushed through this afternoon to leave work before 4pm. He laughed about the traffic and poked you in the shoulder when you rolled your eyes at him.

Thirty minutes later he turned to look at you, a strand of hair dipping down to his forehead.

“Smalls,” he said quietly.

“Hmm?” You turned to look at him, mid-chapstick application.

“I’m glad we’re hanging out.”

You stared at him for a second, your face tingly and hot when his lips twitched up into a smile. You nodded, broke eye contact, and capped your chapstick. “Mhm, yeah, me too.”

“Smalls,” he said it again, this time you looked at him more seriously.

“What?”

“Can we talk about it?”

You could have sworn the world went silent--the hum of the plane’s four engines suddenly muted as he stared back at you with emerald eyes.

Somewhere in the world there were ocean waves so high they could knock a boat off course. There were rainforests and mountains and deserts so dry they made the airplane cabin feel humid. You wished, as you sat next to him, miles of space between your feet and the ground, that you could be anywhere but here.

You opened your mouth to speak, words escaping you. You shook your head.

“Y/N, I just--”

“No,” you said. “Forget it. We both said we would forget it.”

He licked his lips, quiet for a second as he dropped his gaze to the carpeted floor. You stood up quickly, hoping an escape to the bathroom would place air and time between the two of you. You were stuck, though. You pushed the button twice that was meant to open the sliding door out of your tiny space--a human height shield from the other passengers.

You pressed it again, more frustrated each time your finger met the hard plastic.

“Here,” he said behind you, reaching past you to press the button right beside it. “You were pressing close.”

“Right.”

The door slid open, a flight attendant offered you a smile as she waited for you to exit in front of her. Down the hall, into the bathroom--much bigger than economy. A full length mirror, a toilet that actually resembled a toilet.

The door shut and latched behind you. Silence. You couldn’t talk about it with him. That would be more embarrassing than the night itself. What were you supposed to say? I’m sorry? I didn’t mean it? I did mean it? You’d said all of those things before--in quick succession and with a heartbeat so fast you could have passed out.

A knock on the door. One second, you called out, turning the water on for a moment as if to make it sound like you were doing something other than panicking. You brushed past the stranger on the outside, offering an apologetic smile before heading back to your seat. When you got back, Harry had headphones in and a movie on the screen in front of him.

Thank god.

He smiled at you subtly, leaning forward to offer you a glass of champagne--someone must had dropped them off while you were losing your shit in the bathroom. You took it from him without a word, taking a sip as he took one earbud out of his ear and offered it to you. You pushed it into place and leaned back in the chair, still trying to catch your breath, grateful for the fact that he dropped it.

You didn’t need the whole plane ride to be awkward. If there was ever to be a moment for the two of you to talk about the ghosts of Christmas past, literally, it wasn’t right now. The trip would be nice with a movie and a nap--free chocolates and eye masks, too.

And besides, champagne tasted better at thirty thousand feet.

here’s what first class looks like for Harry and Y/N

read the other parts here

AN: big thanks to those of you reading big thanks for all of the messages!!! be sure to let me know what you think? Anyone want to take a guess as to what happened on 12/29/15?

tag list: @clorenafila @ainsleesolareclipse @castawaycths @harryspirate @wanderlustiing @ursamajor603 @thurhomish @omgsharry @jdcharliewhiskey @stepping-into-the-light @rachkon @jdcharliewhiskey @sad-little-asshole @ainsleesolareclipse @clorenafila @shawnsblue @gendryia @g0bl1nqueen @laula843 @pinkpolaroidgirl @4592222 @flooome @craic-head-horan @a-woman-without-a-plan @awomanindeniall @shaw-nm @staceystoleyourheart

#harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles writing #1dff #harry styles story #@harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic au #harry styles fic #harry styles writings #harry styles masterlist #harry styles x reader #harry x reader #harry styles reader insert #tytl #two years too late

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watchmegetobsessed · 5 years

Text

“We can’t be friends anymore.” (Shawn Mendes)

i had this thought about this story this morning and just had to write it. please keep it in mind that this is just fiction! don’t come at me after reading this lol

5.2k angst and fluff at the end

drabble list masterlist

You feel betrayed. Like you’ve been just stabbed in your chest, multiple times by the person who is the closest to it. Sorrow takes over your body in waves as you stare at the screen of your phone that’s flooded with pictures of the guy you’ve been in love with since forever and the girl he always said was just a friend for him, holding hands, smiling at each other in a way that makes your stomach churn.

Texts keep popping up from your friends, checking in on you. The picture just got out and they are all concerned about how you are taking the news that Shawn and Camila are kind of official. It’s not even the fact that they are together. Well, it is, it’s making you want to scream till you lose consciousness, but there is something that’s just making it worse. He didn’t even tell you.

You had to find out about it from some damned paparazzi pictures on your Instagram feed. The guy who has been your best friend for almost a decade didn’t take the effort to let you know that he is dating someone. That’s what hurts the most.

A hot teardrop rolls down on your cheek as you finally make yourself exit the app and locking the phone you throw it to the couch as you take some deep breaths, trying your best not to totally break down. You tell yourself it’s not even that serious, it doesn’t hurt that bad, but it does. It’s making your chest feel like it’s about to burst, your limbs numb, vision blurry from the relentless tears in your eyes.

Your phone buzzes again, it’s another text from someone with the same “u okay?” message, but you don’t want to talk to anyone right now. You just want to mope all day with ice-cream and chocolate under your hands, stuffing yourself. Unfortunately, you have the whole day ahead of you and you can’t afford to disappear and not do anything.

It’s sometime after three in the afternoon when Shawn calls you. You’re in the middle of Walmart, your last stop before you head home and finally rest. Standing at the dairy aisle you hesitate as you stare down at the photo of you and him on the screen. It was taken on your eighteenth birthday, he surprised on your party, telling you that he wouldn’t be able to make it but then out of nowhere he just walked into the backyard with the widest grin on his face. Your mom took the picture, he hugged you from behind, pressing his face to yours as you laughed happily. A nice memory that feels tainted right now. The two of you talked about a lot that evening when the guests were long gone. Sitting by the pool, legs in the water.

“What if I never find the one?” you remember him asking. He was moping about some girl turning him down in a restaurant.

“Don’t say that,” you nudged him with your shoulder. “We have time.”

The way he smiled at you that moment made your heart skip a beat. You wanted him to tell you that he wants to be with you, that you are the one for him. Your mouth felt dry as you thought about telling him how you feel, something you’ve been thinking about for so long. But you couldn’t make yourself do it, again. Instead, this is what came out of your mouth:

“We’ll have each other even if we are still single at thirty.”

There was something in his smile, something you couldn’t really put your finger on, but it made your whole body shiver. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him as the two of you stared at the rings on the water your legs created on the surface.

“I know. I’ll always have you and I’m so lucky for that.”

That night made you feel like there was hope, that he might feel the same way, but it has been two years since then and today made you give hope up totally.

You stare down at the phone and answer the call last minute probably, before he could have hung up.

“Hey,” you softly say, your whole body tensed up, afraid of even hearing his voice.

“Hey!” he greets you delighted. “So what are you doing tonight? I’m having a few people over and you could come over as well.”

Your hand turns into fist next to your side as you grip hard on the phone. It’s making you feel sick how carefree he sounds, like nothing really happened. For him, nothing did, but for you… the world has changed.

“Um, I don’t know,” you mumble under your breath. To be honest it’s the last thing you want to do, face him when you just want to cry yourself to sleep.

“Oh come on! I haven’t seen you in weeks, I want to hug my best friend!”

His words feel like a punch in your stomach. Tears are dwelling in your eyes, threatening to make you break down in the middle of the store. Covering the mic of the phone you sniff a few before replying to him.

“Sure. I’ll go over,” you say knowing well he wouldn’t leave you alone until you say yes. You’ll just go there, hang out for an hour and then leave saying your headache is killing you, which is kind of true.

“Amazing! Come any time after six.”

Ending the call the tears keep rolling down on your cheeks, making people stare at you, some of them confused, but most of them give you a sympathetic look as you wipe your face and continue shopping with red puffy eyes, sobbing to yourself while grabbing all the stuff you need.

***

Shawn and you kissed once. It happened about one and a half years ago, when he was about to leave for his festival tour. You were over at his place a few days before he was supposed to leave, just spending some quality time together. You ordered Chinese and watched Netflix, at one point he popped a bottle of wine… and then another one. Getting drunk together was never a problem, you just messed around, talking about the weirdest stuff, but that time was different. Maybe it was the weight of his leaving, or something else, you can’t recall. You were sitting on the kitchen floor, drinking the lasts of the wine. You were extremely emotional, talking about your deepest fears as he had an arm around your shoulders, listening to you.

“I’m just… I’m so afraid I’ll end up alone,” you sobbed, wiping your face with the palm of your hand.

“Don’t say that, you won’t end up alone. You’ll always have me, okay?”

“But you’ll end up marrying some amazing girl and then I’ll be forgotten.”

“Hey.” Lifting your chin up with his fingers he made you look into his eyes. “I’ll never forget about you. I can never do that. Understood?”

You just nodded your head, staring up into his beautiful eyes when you realized that he is leaning closer. You didn’t move, completely frozen as his lips slowly touched yours. They tasted salty from your own tears as he gently took your bottom lip between his. It took you some time to make yourself move and finally kiss him back. It soon turned into something more passionate and raw as you pushed yourself up and let him deepen it, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You made out on the kitchen floor like two teenagers, shutting the whole world out.

That night you slept in his arms in his bed as he didn’t let you go home drunk. When you woke up in the morning he was still fast asleep. Your heart was aching as you told yourself that everything that happened last night was out of pity. You didn’t think he would have done it if it wasn’t for you pouring your heart out about fearing loneliness. You left before he woke up and it was never discussed, strengthening you in your belief that he didn’t really mean it.

As you pull up at his rental home and park in the line of cars on the driveway this memory keeps playing in your mind over and over again until you step your foot inside and it gets lost in the voices of the people in there.

You are greeted by a lot of familiar faces as you know most of Shawn’s friends. Brian and Connor hugs you tight upon seeing you and while Brian rushes out to get you an alcohol free drink Connor gives you a look.

“How are you holding up?” he asks. He knows how you feel about Shawn. You didn’t tell him, he figured it out sometime when you were traveling with them on the European leg of the tour. One night he came over to your room and asked you straight forward if you had feelings for Shawn. You were so surprised you couldn’t even get out a proper answer and it gave him just the perfect reply to his question. Luckily he promised to keep your little secret and he has been your support ever since whenever it came to your feelings for Shawn.

“I’m trying,” you sigh with a tired smile. He squeezes your arm gently.

“I’m sorry you had to find out like this, I already told him it was an ass move. I think he will want to talk to you about it. I wanted to tell you myself but I felt like it’s not my territory.”

“It’s alright,” you tell him, but your stomach churns thinking about having to face Shawn and talk about Camila. You don’t feel like you’re ready for that.

It makes you angry that he always told you how he is just friends with her. You asked him several times if he had feelings for her but he always denied and yet he is still together with her now. He wasn’t honest with you and it’s just making everything worse for you.

Brian returns with you drink and the topic is dropped since he doesn’t know about your feelings. You have a nice chat with them, listening to their updates about what has been happening to them when you see Connor’s eyes look over your shoulder and the expression on his face tells you that Shawn is somewhere behind you.

When a large, familiarly warm hand touches your bare shoulder you curse yourself for not changing your tank top to something that covers more of your skin.

“Hey, when did you arrive?” he smiles down at you embracing you in a hug and you force yourself to wrap your arms around his torso.

“Not long ago. I was just catching up with these two,” you say nodding at the guys.

“Mind if I steal her for a little?” Shawn asks his friends.

“You’ll be fine,” Connor mouths to you as him and Brian leave and Shawn leads you to his bedroom so you can talk privately.

Your grip onto your drink hard, thanking Brian that he got you a glass not just a red solo cup that would have been already butchered by your nervous fingers. You don’t sit down, just stop somewhere at his dresser and turning around you wait for him to talk.

“Listen, I know I messed up. I should have told you about me and Camila earlier. But it all happened so fast and I didn’t have time to adjust.”

“You could have called me or something, a little heads-up would have been nice,” you tell him, anger and jealousy building up in you. “I had to find out that my best friend has a girlfriend from Instagram.”

“I know, and I’m sorry!” Taking a few steps towards you he stops just a couple of feet away from you, regret all over his beautiful face. “I was stupid, okay?”

“Yeah, you were,” you mumble crossing your arms on your chest.

“But you’re still my best friend and I’m telling you now. I’ll tell you all about it, filling you in on everything you want.”

You shake your head, tears forming in your eyes once again and you just hate yourself for being so emotional. Why can’t you be just cold and not care about it that much?

“Don’t,” you whisper, still shaking your head. You see his face drop as he realizes you are about to cry. Closing the distance between you and him he puts his hands on your arms and tries to look into your eyes, but you are avoiding his gaze with everything in you.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Did it upset you this much? I’m sorry, I didn’t know it would hurt you so bad,” he rambles, trying to find out what’s happening and you can’t stop your sobs. He tries to pull you to his chest to comfort you, but you push him away, almost spilling your drink on him. You don’t need his arms around you, that would just make it even more painful and you had enough for today.

“Stop it, Shawn,” you plead turning away as you wipe your cheeks.

“Talk to me, Y/N! I’m your best friend, I want to help you.”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?” he asks confused.

“We can’t be friends anymore.”

The words almost burn your throat, never in a million years have you thought you would be saying this, especially not to Shawn. But your heart has spoken and this is the only way for you to heal. To stop acting like you’re fine, like nothing is wrong.

“What are you talking about?”

“You, I’m talking about you,” you choke out. “I can’t be friends with you because it hurts too much.”

“Is this still about me not telling you in time? Because I swear to God it wasn’t anything against you, it just slipped my mind!”

“It’s not about that. It’s about… Camila,” you say, not sure how to express yourself. Your thoughts are racing and your head is about to explode.

“You don’t like her?” he asks running his fingers through his hair and you shut your eyes closed. Why doesn’t he understand what you are trying to say?

“I don’t like her because… Because I want to be her, Shawn! Because I love you!” you exclaim, tossing your glass to the dresser and making your way past him, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you back.

“Hey, where are you going?”

His fingers wrap around your wrist desperately as his eyes widen on you.

“Home. I don’t want to be here,” you simply say.

“Wait, you can’t just say that and then leave! Let’s talk about it!”

“But I don’t want to talk.” You yank your hand out of his grip and slip out of the room before he could grab you again.

You hear him call your name, running after you but you are keen on leaving, slaloming between the guests until you make it to the door. Luckily someone holds him up, you hear him trying to excuse himself, but you are out of the house just in time, making it to your car before he could catch up with you.

He stands in the door, staring at you as you drive away, holding yourself up until he can’t see you anymore. Once you are out of his sight you let everything out. You don’t stop crying even after you get home. Shawn is blowing your phone off, but there’s no chance you are talking to him so you just simply mute it and put it to your nightstand with the screen down.

It takes some time, but all the crying and anxiousness works magic on your body, tiring you out enough to fall asleep sometime around midnight. When you wake up you feel like you’ve been ran over by a damned tractor, exhaustion is still ruling your body, but checking the time on the clock on your nightstand you see that it’s already one pm, meaning you slept for more than 12 hours straight.

Taking your time in the shower you wash your hair and condition two times before getting out from the steamy cabin. Towel wrapped around your head and a fluffy robe on you, you make your way into the kitchen when the doorbell rings.

You freeze completely. You forgot to check the texts from Shawn last night and now you are pretty sure it’s him. The bell rings again and your heart jumps. Quickly taking the towel off your head you throw it to the couch as you step to the door.

Just as you thought, a concerned and tired looking Shawn stands on your doormat, staring down at you worriedly. The dark circles under his eyes makes you think he didn’t have much sleep last night.

“Do you know how worried I was? You didn’t even let me know that you got home safely!” he scolds you, pushing his way into the house without you even inviting him in. “I was worried sick something happened to you!”

“Why would have anything happened?” you ask sighing.

“Because you left so upset, you shouldn’t have driven like that!” he growls and you almost start feeling guilty for causing him a sleepless night.

“Stop pretending like you’re my dad,” you mumble making your way into the kitchen and he follows you behind.

“I’m serious, Y/N! You can’t drop a bomb like that and then leave and not answer any of my calls!”

He is seriously mad at you, anger boiling under his skin as he towers above you. But you don’t feel like he can hold you accountable for anything at this point. You made it clear you want nothing to do with him for your own sake.

You put on some water to boil while you make yourself busy with looking through your tea filters in your little box. Shawn steps next to you, his large hand placed on the counter top.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” he asks, the anger is gone from his voice. It’s soft and comforting this time.

“And what would have I said, Shawn?” you snap at him dropping the filters from your hands and finally daring to look at him. “We were best friends, it’s not something you can just casually discuss.”

“Why are you saying that in past tense?” he asks, pain tainting his hazel eyes.

“I told you. We can’t be friends anymore, it’s too painful for me and I’m done pretending like I can deal with being around him and act like nothing is wrong.”

“If you… If you told me, we could have figured something out!”

“Figure what out, Shawn?” you ask with a sad smile. “There is nothing to figure out. You are with Camila and I’ll be fine too. Not now, but one day. I just need you to respect that I need time and distance.”

His staring down at you intensely, lips pressed together into a thin line. You wish you could read his mind, get into his head and see what’s going on in there. His lips part and you hold your breath, waiting for his reply.

“Is that really what you want? Time and distance?”

“Y-Yes,” you nod, eyes turning away from him as you can’t stand his gaze on you. You’re not sure this is what you want, fuck, you know you will suffer if you can’t talk to him and can’t see him anymore, but this is the only way you feel like you can ever get yourself over him.

He nods, clearly pissed by your decision, but he has to respect you. If you mean anything to him he’ll accept your will.

“Fine,” he simply says before just walking out of the house, slamming the door behind him, leaving you in the painful silence with your thoughts. You hold onto the edge of the countertop as you slowly process that you just lost your best friend.

***

It has been the worst month of your life. Since Shawn walked out of your house he went radio silence. No texts, no calls, nothing. When you read back his desperate texts from the night before you broke down in tears again, the thought of losing him eating you up alive. But you had to move on.

There has been several times you almost called or texted him without even thinking about it, him still being the first person you want to share anything major with. But realization hit you hard every time.

You went offline for your own sake, not able to bear seeing him happy with another girl, or just seeing him at all. You have no idea what’s been happening to him and it’s been killing you, but time started to heal you slowly.

Connor hit you up a few days ago, he has been back from school and you agreed to have lunch together. He is basically the only one you kept in touch with from Shawn’s circle. Not long after Shawn’s last visit he dropped by as well, checking in on you. He stayed and listened to you for hours, crying about everything, offering support that you really needed in that moment.

“Hey, you look great!” he compliments you as you arrive to the restaurant, hugging you tightly.

“Thanks, you too!” you smile back at him taking a seat.

“So, how have you been?”

You shrug, fidgeting around with the empty wine glass on the table.

“Fine, I guess.”

“But you miss him, right?” he says your thoughts out loud. You don’t answer, just nod your head. “You haven’t talked to him since then?”

“No. Not at all,” you sigh leaning back in your seat.

“And you don’t even know what’s been going on with him?”

“Connor, can we stop talking about him?” you plead, keen on changing the topic. The thought of Shawn still makes you feel uncomfortable.

“He and Camila broke up,” he then says, making your eyes go wide.

“What?”

“Yeah, about two weeks ago. Everyone has been going nuts about it, saying that their relationship was shorter than Kim Kardashian’s shortest marriage.”

“That’s rude,” you mumble.

“Yeah, but kind of true. They didn’t even last for two months.”

You’re aching to find more out, but you’re not sure if you should ask him. Luckily, he can feel your hunger for more information so he decides to file you in.

“I don’t know exactly what went down, but I think Shawn was the one who ended it. He is not talking to us about it and I think they are done for good. Camila refuses to even talk about him, so we are kind of in the dark.”

“And how is he doing?” you ask concerned about his mental state. Even though you are in a weird place with him you still care about him a lot and love him.

“Not too good. He is mostly at home, doesn’t hang with anyone, just keeps going to the studio, recording a bunch of songs he doesn’t show to anyone.”

You are totally confused about what to think of it. His breakup with Camila took you by surprise, it’s not something you were expecting at all, seeing how happy they looked. And knowing that he is isolating himself from his friends is breaking your heart.

Shawn doesn’t get mentioned for the rest of the lunch, but your mind keeps drifting away to him from time to time. When you get back home later that day you are burning to check in on Shawn and just see how he is doing. You decide you’ve had enough time to be able to handle seeing him again so you get into your car and head over to his place.

Your nerves are burning up as you get closer and closer to him. When you park down on his driveway you need a minute in the car to collect yourself before seeing him for the first time.

“You can do this,” you peptalk yourself before heading for the front door.

The door opens before you even reach it and a messy haired Shawn appears, in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else as he stares at you like you’re a ghost.

“Hey,” you greet him shyly, his bare chest making it hard for you to focus.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“What a nice way to greet an old friend,” you chuckle a little hurt by his tone. Realizing his not so warm welcoming he invites you inside.

“You want something to drink? Tea or coffee?”

“No thank you,” you smile politely as you sit on a stool at the kitchen island and he leans against the countertop across the room, still shooting you confused looks.

“I um… I talked to Connor today. He told me about… About you and Camila.”

“So you came here to talk about my breakup?” he asks a bit sassily.

“No! I wanted to check in on you. He said you’ve been isolating yourself.”

“So good to know my friends are going around, talking about my personal life,” he scoffs.

“It’s not like he told to some stranger, it’s just me,” you say defending Connor.

“It’s you, and you don’t want to be my friend anymore, if I remember correct.”

He is angry and you can’t decide is he is angry at you or just at the situation in general.

“Don’t be like this. You know why I said that. I needed time to—“

“Yeah!” he snaps. “You needed time and space to move on, but you never even listened to me! You just shut me out without hearing me out!”

His outburst surprises you, not knowing what to think about his anger. Hopping off of the stool you walk around the kitchen island and stop a few feet away from him, his hands gripping onto the edge of the counter furiously.

“Because I was hurt, Shawn. You have no idea what it felt like to me,” you explain. “I couldn’t just go and pretend like I was okay.”

“But this whole thing could have been avoided if you just talked to me earlier or let me talk that night, but you ran off!”

“What would have been different?” you chuckle in disbelief that he is so delusional and you continue with a raised tone as you are growing impatient with his reasoning. “I don’t think you would have ran to Camila and broke up with her because you realized you were in love with me!”

“I didn’t have to realize because I already knew it, damn it!” he snaps, voice ringing through the whole house as your stomach drops. “I’ve been in love with you for years, Y/N! And then you break down when I get together with Camila, telling me that you love me and I was so shocked because I’ve been wanting to hear you say that for so long, but that was not how I imagined it.”

You stare at him with lips parted, eyes widened and you think you’ve stopped breathing for a couple of seconds too. He takes a few deep breaths as he tries to contain his anger and then he continues in a calmer, more low-key tone.

“You didn’t even give me a chance to tell you how I feel, just wanted to get rid of me. You have no idea what I went through since then. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat for days. Camila got so mad because I told her that I can’t do it anymore. She said I was just playing with her and I swear that’s not what it was, but once I found out you have or had feelings for me I was screwed, no one else existed but you for me. She hates me now, but I couldn’t even care about it because you weren’t talking to me. I wanted to call you so many times, go to your place and tell you everything but I didn’t want to upset you. You said you needed time so I wanted to respect you. I was planning on talking to you once it was over with Camila but then I thought that what if you’ve already moved on? I didn’t want to hurt you.”

You’ve never seen him so broken, so lost and it’s all because of you. Those damn tears are back and you don’t even bother to wipe them off as you wrap your arms around his torso hugging him tight. His skin feels hot on your face, but in weeks this is the first time you feel like everything is going to be alright.

Shawn wraps his arms around you hesitantly, cheek pressed to the crown of your head. You can feel him shaking and you just want to turn back time, make yourself shut up and let him speak, sparing the hurtful time for both of you.

“I missed you so much,” he whimpers into your hair pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Leaning back you finally look into his eyes.

“But… How? When?” you ask, your mind still racing from his confession.

“Literally for years, Y/N. How can I not be in love with you? You are beautiful, funny, nice and caring, everything I’ve ever imagined about. I wanted to tell you so many times, but I always chickened out. Then… I finally built up the courage to kiss you that night. I felt like it was a turning point, like everything is about to change but I woke up and you were gone. I took it as a hint that you regretted it and wanted nothing to do with me romantically. So I never brought it up and tried to move on.”

“You dumb shit, I thought you kissed me out of pity!” you say slamming your hands on his chest, your palms staying there as you let out a shaky chuckle.

“Pity? I was literally a puddle that night, so whipped for you and so happy when you kissed me back! There was no pity in that!”

You shake your head in disbelief. So much could have been different if only you and him talked.

“So… What now?” you ask, your fingers gently stroking the base of his neck.

He tugs your hair behind your ear, leaning down and resting his forehead against yours.

“Have you moved on? Or do you still love me?” he breathes out.

“Of course I love you. It’s not something that changes over night.”

“Over night? It has been a month,” he chuckles.

“One month is nothing compared to the years I went through loving you,” you whisper as you cup his cheeks in your palms.

“Then let’s start with this,” he replies and his lips are pressed against yours.

He kisses you hard and passionate, putting every emotion into it and you return it just as enthusiastically, arms wrapped around his neck as his lips work perfectly against yours and then his lips part from your, but only to kiss you again and again and… again.

#shawn #mendes #shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfics #shawn mendes fanfictions #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes oneshot #mendes army

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heyyyharry · 5 years

Text

Chapter 9: On-screen Lover

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Be My Only)

…in which Harry struggles with acting for the first time in his life.

Warning: smut.

Word count: 6.1k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Chapter 8: Sweet 25 - Y/N feels alone at Harry’s birthday party.

Wattpad link

A/N: The song mentioned in the chapter is Don't Keep Driving by The Paper Kites. This chapter is also inspired by The Archer by Taylor Swift (this is where all the anxiety comes from).

Squirming in the soft, warm sheets, Y/N rubbed the remainders of sleep from her eyes to greet the rose-pink light of dawn. She supposed this was something most people would consider beautiful, but she didn't. Perhaps waking up grumpy and alone had clouded her judgment.

She slowly sat up, clinging on to the very last memory of the night before, but with little success. She remembered her and Harry drinking in the back of her car after the party. She remembered having sex on this bed — hot, intense, mind-blowing sex, which caused her to think it might've been just a crazy wet dream. Maybe he had never been here, maybe her brain had made everything up. But soon her doubt was washed away as she saw what he'd left on the nightstand.

Y/N lazily brushed her hair into place with her fingers and picked up the pink notebook to find a sticky note attached to the first page.

Morning, baby!

I was supposed to give this to you after my birthday party, but we got carried away and I forgot. Enjoy reading the other notes.

Your one and only,

Harry :)

Curious, Y/N flipped through her journal to find plenty of colorful sticky notes filled with his sloppy, yet adorable, handwriting. For every entry about him, he'd written a little message to retell the event from his point of view. He talked about how he'd felt when they first met in the treehouse, when he lost Thumper, when she kissed him for the first time and ran away...All the things he had wanted to say to her, but never had a chance to. And for her final entry, he'd added a line right next to her last one.

Your girl, always. (Now you're really my girl, always)

That morning, Y/N strolled down the streets of London, looking like she'd just won the lottery. She felt elated, her footsteps were light as a feather as she not only dodged between grumpy morning pedestrians but also said hello to them. She couldn't wait to see Eddie's reaction to her showing up this early. He would probably freak or even throw on a raincoat in case it started raining indoors.

"Good mor—"

"I'm in emotional distress!" Alice cried out the second Y/N walked in. "Harry Styles has a girlfriend!"

Those words froze her to the spot. She looked at Alice with her mouth agape, but Alice didn't give her time to let that sink in. The girl yanked the phone from Eddie, who was sitting quietly behind the counter, and showed Y/N a photo on Twitter.

"This just got released this morning. He was kissing someone at his birthday party last night!"

Y/N peered at the shot, feeling like her chest might explode. Fortunately, it'd been taken with a terrible camera, from a bad angle that you could mostly see Harry's back. But that one poor quality photo was all it took for Harry Styles to trend on Twitter. Fans were going insane and wanted to know the identity of this 'lucky girl'. Some, especially those who shipped him with Ruby, like Alice here, weren't thrilled at all.

"I'm going to kill myself. True love doesn't exist." Alice slammed her hands on the counter and dropped her head on them dramatically.

Eddie seemed concerned, yet too afraid to speak, so he signaled Y/N to say something.

"Hey, Al, I think..." Y/N trailed off as she shrugged off her coat and hung it up. "I think maybe Ruby and Harry are just...you know...normal friends...They're co-stars after all."

Alice groaned even louder, making Eddie roll his eyes. He nudged her with a pen and said, "at least now you know Ruby's not taken."

The girl lifted her contorted face to glare at him. "Oh please, as if one of us has a shot with her!" But then her eyes lit up, and she turned to Y/N. "Hey, you were at the party last night, right?"

"W-what?"

"I saw the story Isaac posted of you eating sushi."

"Oh, yeah." Y/N faked a laugh. "But I didn't see anything. I was in the house most of the time."

"Was Harry talking to someone there more than the others?"

"N-no, he was with his manager the whole night."

"What about Ruby? Was she there?"

Y/N parted her lips to speak, but thankfully, Eddie cut in, "give her a break, Al. She said she didn't know. Now please get to work."

"Fine!" Alice gave him a shrug. "Guess I'll be at the back using the new books to wipe my tears."

"Hey, if you do that I'll cut down your salary, ya hear me?!" Eddie shouted at the girl before turning back to Y/N.

The poor girl was still in shock. After all, it was the first time she'd gone viral. Though nobody had figured out it was her, she knew it was her in the photo, kissing Harry. And he wasn't just her Harry, he also belonged to everyone who knew and loved him. This feeling in the pit of her stomach made her feel sick. Her heart was beating like a drum, and her palms soaked with sweat. She didn't realize she'd spaced out until Eddie's voice pulled her back to reality.

"Y/N! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." She nodded fast.

Maybe she was naturally good at faking smiles, maybe Eddie was insensible to her feelings. Either way, she was glad he changed the topic.

"You're not gonna be here on Monday, right?" he asked, to her surprise.

It took her a second to realize that he was talking about Celine's wedding. "Right," she confirmed. "I'll be gone for a week."

The man clicked his tongue in frustration as he heard. "Oh God, I hope Alice's mental state will go back to normal soon."

"Has she ever been normal?"

"You're right. She's always been a little off. Now she's just worse." Sighing, Eddie fixed his glasses and went on, "are you going to the wedding alone? If you need a wedding date, I'm always available."

Wedding date. The voice inside her head sighed at those two words. Celine and Amala still thought that Harry would come back to Holmes Chapel with her to attend their wedding. They didn't know that their best friend was too afraid to ask him, for she already knew what the answer would be. There was no way he could squeeze a wedding in his tight schedule.

"I already have a date." She felt bad for lying to Eddie. But since when did she feel bad for lying? Being in love had really changed her.

"Guess I'm gonna have to take my mum to the movies next weekend," Eddie said with a shrug. "But I'm happy for you, Y/N. I showed up at my aunt's wedding alone and they put me in the kids' table. You wouldn't want that."

"Maybe because you look like one."

"Shut up!" The man waved her off and fixed his glasses. "Okay, get to work. I have to make sure Alice's not crying on my new books."

"Okay, love you, Ed!"

"You don't!"

Eddie had just walked away when Yellow by Coldplay blasted from Y/N's pocket. She didn't need to check who it was, because she'd set that ringtone especially for him.

"Hi." A corner of her mouth lifted as she could feel him smirking on the phone. "They gave us a five-minute break and I miss you," said Harry. His voice was raspy and low, so she imagined him hiding somewhere to make this call. The thought of them being secretive and sneaky when in public always excited her. She loved to think of them as the modern Romeo and Juliet, of course, minus the dying part.

Y/N rested her elbow on the countertop as she held the phone at her ear. "I miss you too," she said, grinning. "Saw your little surprise this morning. I loved it."

"I knew you would." He chuckled lowly. "Have you read any of my notes?"

"Just a few. I'll read the rest when I get home."

"Good." Again, the sound of his stupid smirk made the butterflies in her stomach soar. She found herself picking at the wood and chewing on her lip, like a nervous fourteen-year-old talking to her crush on the phone.

She hated to ruin this happy moment for them, but her anxiety didn't let her enjoy it fully. "Hey, baby," Y/N lowered her voice. "Have you seen the photo?"

"Yeah." He breathed. She could imagine his smile slowly fading. "It's awfully blurry though. No one knows it's you."

"It's taken from inside the house, H."

"I know. My team's trying to find out who took it. I bet it's the Declan twins."

Or Ruby, Y/N thought to herself, but decided not to say it aloud.

"Don't worry, kid. Whoever took that photo probably didn't even know it was you, or else they would've told the whole world already. Everything's fine."

Though Harry sounded calm, she didn't know for sure if that was how he actually felt. However, there was nothing she could do now but to leave it all to him. She'd signed up for this, and now she had to go with the flow.

"Hey, I have something to tell you," she changed the subject. This might not be the best time to pop the question, but since Eddie had brought up the whole 'wedding date' thing, she thought it wouldn't hurt to just ask. "So I'm going back to Holmes Chapel in two days, and I'll stay there for a week for Celine and Amala's wedding."

"You already told me that." He chuckled.

"Yeah, but...like..." Just say it, God damn it! "Would you like to go with me?"

"Back home?"

"I mean...yeah...Would you like to come as my...wedding date? I mean, only if you're free next weekend."

There was a long pause. And his answer was exactly what she had expected. "I'm really sorry, love," he said with a heavy sigh. What came next, however, was completely out of nowhere. "I'll be in Paris for the next two weeks."

"P-Paris?" She felt a lump in a throat and struggled to release the words from her mouth. "You'll be in Paris for what?"

"We're filming some scenes there. I'm...I'm actually...leaving in two days. I was going to tell you last night but..."

Two days?!

"How long have you known about this?"

"Uh..."

"Harry!"

"S-since the first day we started shooting."

His answer felt like an ice bucket in the face for her. She was surprised she hadn't hung up on him yet. "So you've known since the day we officially got together and kept it from me this whole time?"

"No, that's not—" He stopped himself with a hiss. "The trip was supposed to be at the end of next month, but they've made a few changes—"

"I don't care if it's next week or next month! You knew, and you didn't tell me!"

"I'm really sorry." His voice lowered. "Are you...are you mad at me?"

"I'm not," she said, staring at the ceiling.

"Really?" he questioned as if testing the water. "Because I'm pretty mad at myself."

"Look, it's fine. We'll talk more about it tonight, okay?"

"Promise you're not mad at me?"

"Harry..."

"Promise me, please!"

"Fine! I promise I'm not mad at you." Y/N exhaled. She wished she could be mad at him, but then again, people who were in love didn't feel and think the way normal people did in certain situations. With this man, Y/N knew she had gone too far from being sane.

"Good," Harry happily said, probably wearing that boyish grin that she adored. "Now say you love me."

"I love you. Gosh, you're such a baby sometimes."

"I love you too, Bambi," he responded with a light chuckle. "See you at home."

It was the first time he'd referred to her cheap flat as 'home'. He probably didn't even think when he said it. Still, it meant so much to her. It made her feel secure even though this was the most insecure position she had ever been in. And so she kept replaying the word in her head and telling herself that everything would be just fine.

Harry stepped into the shower, fully clothed, toes flinching as they touched the cool tiled floor. His mind was in shreds as he watched the drops trickled down her bare back and slowly looked up to meet her questioning stare. Guilt washed over him like a tidal wave, but he refused to acknowledge it.

Ruby didn't say a word, not asking him to leave, not asking him to stay. She turned her head and resumed bathing her skin gently, letting the lukewarm water darken her hair. The unfamiliar melody she was humming got Harry distracted as he stepped forward, and circled his strong arms around her little waist. He pulled her in, pressing her naked form firmly against his clothed chest. Now his face and neck were flushed, not just because of the steamy shower.

The ex-lover ran her hands across his arms and her body shuddered at his slightest touch. Slowly, she turned around, their eyes met once again. The air almost drained out of his lungs as he finally found the courage to reach for her face. His fingertips followed the water streaming down her cheeks to her neck, then her shoulders and her arms. Ruby breathed out gently as goosebumps pimpled her skin.

Her voice was soft. "I thought you wouldn't come back."

"I...I had to," Harry faltered. "I missed you...so much."

She gave him a bashful smile and then guided his hands to her hips. "I know you did," she said contently.

Without breaking their eye contact, she began to unbutton his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. Her palms smoothed across the tattoos on his chest, the ones that she'd touched and kissed and tasted too many times before. As she lifted her face, Harry lowered his head.

"Take me," she murmured, her lips ghosting over his. "Show me how much you missed me."

His entire body was on fire, but it wasn't the kind of burn that brought him comfort. Now he was gawking at the naked girl without blinking. Shit. What was he supposed to say next?

"Cut!"

Harry snapped back to reality as all the lights came on and the director told the whole crew to take five. As he followed Ruby out of the shower, two girls from her team came with a big towel to help her get dry and into her robe. The ones on his team tried to do the same to him, but he waved them off and took the towel to do it himself.

"Mon Dieu! What's going on between you two?" asked the French lady in the quirky satin dress as she pointed to Ruby, her eyes on him. "Do you hate her?"

"N-no, I—"

"Then stop acting like you do!" she cried out. "Harry, sweetheart, I love you to death but that was terrible! You were supposed to be her amant, the lover who kept coming back every time she pushed you away! You were supposed to love her more than anything in this world! That wasn't what I saw back there. It felt like she loved you completely and you didn't even want to be with her."

"I'm sorry, Eva. I'll...I'll fix it."

"Non!" The director shook her head. "You cannot do that alone. Both of you, talk to each other and work things out! We'll shoot another scene later and will do this scene again tomorrow."

"But—"

"Early lunch for everyone else!"

As Eva ignored Harry and walked off, he was left alone with Ruby and their gigantic problem. She was wearing the biggest frown, so he expected her to come at him with a her most ruthless comments. But no, she calmly took the towel around his neck and began to help him dry his hair and his face.

Flustered, he pushed her hands away. "It's...it's okay. I can do it myself."

Ruby froze for a second. Her eyes narrowed as she shoved the towel back in his hands. That was how he knew this conversation would not turn out the way their director wanted.

"Look into my eyes and be honest with me," she spoke with her arms crossed. "Do you hate me?"

"No."

"Because if you do, you should say it aloud so we can get it over with."

"I don't hate you." He breathed into his palm and shoved that hand into his damp hair. "But after what happened last night, I don't know if I even want to be around you anymore."

"What I said was wrong, but those were just harmless words!" She rolled her eyes and soon noticed the change in his expression. "Go ahead," said the actress, to his surprise. "I know what you're thinking, so go ahead and say it."

"Did you take that photo?"

"Fuck you," she spat, but made sure not to draw any attention in this room to them. "Look what she's done to you, H. You're worrying about her way too much that it starts to affect everything you do."

"She hasn't done anything to me," he grumbled as she was getting on his nerves. "But what have you done to yourself? Why are you so hateful now? I moved on and I'm in love. Why can't you just be happy for me and fucking accept that?"

Though Ruby appeared unbothered by those words, both of them knew they had never hit her harder. Even so, she didn't allow herself to look vulnerable.

"How you feel about me, and how I feel about you and that girl have nothing to do with this," she asserted, anger overtook her face. "Yes, I'm still in love with you, and I think you two are bad for each other because she will ruin your career. But when the camera starts rolling, we aren't you and me anymore, we're Elia and Jay. So if Jay cannot love Elia because Harry's afraid his little girlfriend can't handle a simple sex scene, then maybe Harry's a terrible actor and should consider giving the role to someone more deserving."

And then she stormed off, leaving him standing there with the damage her cruel and thoughtless words had done.

When Y/N answered the call from her boyfriend, she knew right away that he was drunk. He greeted her with the loudest "I love you, my sweet Bambi!" and jabbered away just to hang up because he needed to pee. A few missed calls and unread messages later, he finally made it back to her place.

He stumbled into the flat with his hair a mess and his shirt half-untucked. The first thing he did was wrap his arms around her waist. The words "I miss you" and "I'm sorry" poured endlessly from his lips. Though drunk, he still remembered how she felt about him visiting her so late and plastered.

Last year, he'd told her that alcohol used to be his coping mechanism. Once he'd started, he didn't know how to stop. Each drink seemed like a better idea, his jokes got funnier and he could flirt with any woman he fancied. He felt more charming and witty and invincible. That was why for months after his scandalous break up with Ruby, he'd had a drinking problem which he'd proudly called therapy. And Y/N guessed it had happened again today. Something bad had happened to him at work and he needed to feel better about himself. It saddened her that he'd chosen alcohol instead of coming home and talking to her.

With a six-foot man glued to her front, Y/N struggled to reach the door and lock it with one hand. His grip around her waist tightened as he hummed into her neck, making her think he would pass out, but then he said, "I kissed her and she was naked...and I didn't like it at all..."

The little confession froze her to the spot. Y/N swallowed as she pulled away and her arms came around his neck, bringing his forehead to hers. "Kiss who? Ruby?"

He nodded with hooded eyes. "I don't wanna hurt you, but I made everyone angry. Do you...do you think...I'm a bad actor?"

"No, of course not." She cupped his flushed cheeks. Although she didn't fully understand the story, she could guess most of it. Now a part of her felt guilty knowing she was the reason he couldn't do his job. He even assumed it was his fault, that he was bad at something he'd been passionate about for most of his life.

"Wait on the couch, I'll draw you a bath," she said, changing the subject, but he kept on nuzzling her neck and refused to let her go.

"What's it that you use?" he asked quietly. "You smell like...like my mother's garden in the spring."

His lovely comparison made her smile. "That's what you would smell like if you were sober and clean."

"I am sober and clean!"

"No, you're not. You need a bath or you'll be sleeping on the couch tonight."

"Will you join me?" He puckered up his lips while slightly tugging at her t-shirt. "Take this off. Get naked and join me."

"Harry..."

"Please? I'll be good. You don't have to fuck me."

Her mouth twitched in amusement as he brushed his nose against hers. She had just taken a shower before he arrived, but a warm bath didn't sound like a bad idea. After all, she desperately needed to get rid of the smell of alcohol on her body.

Taking his hand, she led him to the bathroom and asked him to wait for her to return with some clothes and towels. However, he didn't listen and ended up following her around like a lost puppy. As they waited for the tub to get filled, he sat on the edge with her and tried to braid her hair. The steam helped sober him up, so by the time they finished taking off their clothes, he had become more self-aware.

Y/N sat between his legs, with her back against his chest and her head on his shoulder. She'd made it clear that they were both too exhausted to have sex, but once his fingers had found her clit, her moans encouraged him to continue. The next thing she knew, she was riding him. His head tilted back on his neck, and small grunts snuck passed his lips every time she sunk back down on him, fucking him slow and steady.

It started out as sweet love-making, until Harry couldn't take it anymore and gripped her hips, driving himself into her. She clung to the back of his neck with one hand, the other smacked flat to the tile wall above his head as he thrust harder, sloshing more water out of the tub. She was the first to come, shouting his name as his body tightened and his cock twitched against her sensitive walls. She rode him through his orgasm until there was nothing left of them but heavy limps, numb fingertips, and fireworks exploding in their minds.

Harry panted and bit down lightly on her shoulder as he recovered. Her eyes slowly opened and took in the sight of him chewing on his delicious lip, his brows puckered up, and his eyes lazy. She watched the tiny beads racing down his handsome face, not sure if it was sweat or their bathwater, but she knew they would have to draw another bath.

"No, Harry, I can't. I'm too tired," he mocked and his softened penis slipped out of her, making they both groan.

"You do that voice again and you'll be sucking your own dick," she warned him, her nose scrunched up. The threat made Harry chuckle as he pulled her in and kissed her twice on the mouth.

While waiting for Harry to refill the tub, Y/N went to get her phone and put her playlist on shuffle. She put the phone in a cup, placed it on the sink before joining Harry in the water again. They sat in the same position with her back against his chest.

The light in Y/N's bathroom was bright and sterile, lacking even a trace of warmth. That was why she normally hated to look at herself in her bathroom mirror. All the scars she'd got growing up would shine like a beacon under this light, and then she'd be reminded that she wasn't his perfect girl. But tonight, she wanted to stay here forever with him so he could caress all the places she hated on her body.

Half of this city turning their lights on Like half of this city has an idea Cars slowly passing right down on main street Don't keep on driving, let me say something

"What's the name of this song?" he asked, breaking the silence between them.

"Don't Keep Driving by The Paper Kites," she said with a beam. "You love it?"

He gave her a nod and nibbled at her earlobe. "It's a good song. Makes me feel like I'm driving around the city at night while it's raining."

"Exactly!" She brightened. "I listened to it on repeat while we were apart last year."

"Does it remind you of me?"

His question made her smile. Still, she never answered.

There's nothing wrong with a little space But not right now, don't leave There's nothing wrong with a little time But for the memories, for the good things Don't leave

"Did you write me those notes to make up for the Paris thing?" she asked all of a sudden.

He gave her a nod, but then realized she was facing away from him, so he spoke, "yeah."

"Hmm." Not the response he was hoping to hear.

"Have you read them all?" he went on to make sure she wasn't upset.

She didn't sound upset when she said, "not yet, I'm saving them for when you're not here."

"I'll video-call you every night to see your reaction when you read them."

His chest felt a thousand times lighter when her giggle softened the room, as if her gentle sound could turn this cold light golden and the water warmer.

His heart was full again, but at the same time, he couldn't ignore the melancholy feeling sinking in. He knew that he would miss her a lot when he was away. Two weeks wasn't a long time, but for a relationship as fragile as theirs, it could feel as long as two months or even two years. Who knew what would happen during those two weeks? They had a lot to lose now that they had each other.

Don't leave me Call me Turn around, turn around now Don't run away from me Don't leave, don't leave

The song went on, coming to an end, but its last words were still echoing in his head.

Harry had stayed up all night to mentally prepare himself to reshoot the sex scene. Even though Y/N had reassured him that she trusted him and understood that it was just for his role, he felt as if his lungs were on fire as he stepped into the shower and ran his hands all over his ex's body. But because Ruby continued to give him the silent treatment, he gave a better performance this time and didn't have to reshoot the scene.

Maybe he'd lulled himself into thinking if he didn't interact with Ruby off-camera, then it wouldn't feel like he was cheating on his girlfriend. But how was this fair to Y/N at all? If he were her, he wouldn't be able to stand someone else touching her the way Ruby had touched him, for a movie scene or not. Knowing his girl, he knew that even if his job did bother her, she wouldn't admit it to make him worried. That, unfortunately, made him a thousand times more anxious.

Last night, while drinking alone, he'd thought a lot about what Ruby had said. Though she was wrong about Y/N, she was right about most things, one of which was, he and Y/N might not be right for each other. At least, he might not be right for her. That thought came and went several times since he'd woken up, but he kept brushing it off. Because the last thing he needed right now was self-doubt. He'd struggled so hard to make her his, and now he was afraid that he didn't deserve to have her. That sounded absurd, stupid even. Still, he kept pondering it.

It was around 3 AM when he finished his last scene of the (previous) day. His plane to Paris departed at six-fifteen and he had to be at the airport at five, which gave him less than two hours to rest before the flight. As he got in the car, he immediately phoned his assistant to get his luggage ready and bring it to the airport. Then he asked his driver to take him to Y/N's place.

He had texted her in the afternoon that he might head straight to the airport after finishing work, and also promised to call her when he arrived in Paris. That had been the plan before he changed his mind at the last minute. He couldn't stand leaving without a proper goodbye. For such an emergency, he was glad she'd given him the key to her place. He didn't have to wake her up when he arrived.

Pulling his hoodie over his head, he went to her room, trying not to make a sound, but she had heard him come in and was already staring at the door, expecting him. She watched him take off his jeans, leaving only his t-shirt and boxers on as he slid under the duvets and cuddled her. Though her eyes were red from the lack of sleep, she was smiling, content, and at the same time, wondering.

"Aren't you supposed to be at the airport?" she asked.

"Not yet," he replied, kissing her forehead. "I'll hold you for a moment, and then I'll go."

He expected a cheeky response, but his Bambi didn't make another sound. She was just happy with the fact that he was here, so it didn't take her too long to fall back to sleep. Harry, on the other hand, couldn't close his eyes. Even though he'd set an alarm on his phone, he was wide awake and staring at the ceiling. He feared that if he took some rest, time would fly much faster, then goodbye would come much faster, and he had to leave much faster. He wasn't ready yet.

Lying still, he focused on the sound of her breathing and counted the number of times she talked in her sleep. Eleven in total. She never made sense, but he thought it was endearing because each time she spoke, she would shift closer to him. As time and space slowed down around them, unexpectedly came an ominous thought. Would she be happier if she had stayed with Isaac?

If she'd stayed with Isaac, she wouldn't have to wake up alone, she would never have to worry about her boyfriend making out with someone else and calling it acting, and she would've been able to kiss him in front of his friends at his birthday party. Scared by the thought, he squeezed her tighter. But that was also when the buzzing of his phone told him it was time for him to go.

He tried to be as careful as he could to sneak out without waking her up, but it wasn't his fault that Y/N was sensitive to the quietest noise. Slowly, she stirred awake and sat up as he did. Her voice tore down the gloomy silence of the room.

"Stay with me."

He looked over his shoulder and his heart almost broke when he saw her face. He'd never seen her like this, at least not when she was sober. His girl was tough and independent, and she'd never begged for his attention. But now she was clinging onto him like a little octopus, her face in his neck. He wished he could stay, but sadly, he wasn't the one to decide.

"I have to go now, love."

"No." She shook her head, pouting slightly. He was caught off guard when she snuck her fingers into his boxers and slowly stroked his hardened length up and down.

"Bambi, no." He gasped, his nostrils flared and so did his pupils. Quickly, he seized her wrist and groaned when the warmth of her soft hand left his erection, but he knew if he hadn't stopped her he'd give in and missed that Goddamn flight.

"I'll make it up to you when I get back, baby. I promise," he said, watching her lie back down and cover her face with both hands.

"It's gonna be the longest two weeks of my life," she groaned.

He rubbed her knee, scooting back to the center of the bed and sat with his legs crossed. She propped herself up on her elbow, now lying on her side, looking at him. In this orange bedroom light, her skin looked so warm, and her eyes so dark. He reached out and touched her face, stroking her bottom lip with his thumb. She was hypnotizing him with those sweet doe eyes, her ultimate weapon that got her exactly what she wanted and how she wanted. He had never won a battle against them before.

"What are you—"

"Shh."

Getting on his knees, he lifted her thighs and spread her legs. She was bare under the oversized t-shirt, already glistening and ready for him. He pressed a delicate kiss to her inner thigh, so close to where she needed him the most as his eyes fixated on her, taking in the breathtaking sight of his love with her head tossed back, her eyes shut and mouth agape. If only his mind could take pictures of her looking like this and save them for when he was alone in a different city.

"Harry, please, make me come."

And he'd miss this too, the way she moaned his name and begged for his touch. Smirking, he took her hands which were gripping the pillow and guided them to his hair. "Show me how you want it," he ordered, his breath made her hips buck in his face and she tugged hard, just like he'd asked her to. Who was he to deny her then?

He began with a closed-mouth kiss, followed by a wet and messier one before his tongue stroked into her, lapping at her moisture. Her heat tightened when he pulled away, his mouth returned to her clit as he worked two fingers in and out of her. The slippery sounds were driving her insane. She was a delicious mess when he held her down and lapped his tongue skillfully, not letting her arousal go to waste. Y/N had never come this hard and fast, she thought she might've passed out for a second. Her fists were tight against his skull, but he loved it, he let her ride his face and fingers until she was too spent and delirious to even flinch.

"Oh, shit..."

Harry broke into laughter as he crawled up to attach their lips for a dirty kiss, letting her have a taste of herself before he pulled back to admire her face.

"Hi." He grinned, his dimples were more prominent in the hazy bedroom light. She loved his dimples. She loved his smile. She loved this face. She loved him. When he pulled away and helped her up, her stomach clenched in the most unpleasant way.

He carried her to the bathroom. She hated when he picked her up like a child, but she didn't have a choice as her knees were too weak for her to walk on her own. After getting her cleaned up, they returned to the bedroom and he began putting on his clothes. She sat on the edge of the bed in silence, watching the man she loved get dressed. He wore that black hoodie she'd got for him because she didn't want him to get cold on the plane. She knew he'd got plenty of hoodies that were more expensive and could keep him warm much better. She'd only wanted an excuse to buy him clothes. At least now he could carry her warmth with him to another country.

She walked him to the door. Her heart sank lower to his every step and when he turned back to kiss her goodbye. She held him tightly, arms locked around his neck, inhaling his scent for the last time before he went.

"I love when you're like this." He chuckled. "So clingy."

"Shut up," she rasped, but not letting go. "Call me when you get to the hotel?"

"I will. I love you so much."

"I love you more."

For every single 'I love you's they'd said to each other until now, they had always meant it. But this time, they meant it more than ever. Y/N supposed normal couples didn't say goodbye this way. Some didn't even bother to say goodbye at all when one of them went away for only two weeks. But normal couples didn't have to hide from the rest of the world nor face the never-ending fear of losing each other for the hundredth time. Maybe one day, they could be one of those normal couples. But right now, this was all they got.

After sending him out of the door, Y/N went back inside so she didn't have to watch him leave. It would break her heart and she'd burst into tears and made a fool out of herself.

Telling himself the same thing, Harry rushed down the stairs and didn't look back, not even once.

#harry styles smut #my girl series #actor!harry #older!harry #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles series #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines

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darlingrutherford · 4 years

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My DA Day Story

I didn't submit to @unofficialdragonageday because I've had too much going on to put my words together in time. So, I thought I'd share my DA story today on Dragon Age Day!

I first played DAI about three years ago. My husband, not knowing much of the series, asked for it for Christmas, thinking it sounded like a fun game to try. He played it a few times. I watched a bit. And then started my own game. And essentially pushed him back onto Fallout so I could play through it obsessively (sorry, honey, love you!)

I had never played the other DA games, however, even without knowing the rest of the story, DAI became such an amazing world for me. I loved how in depth the game was. The music was beautiful, the areas were vast, and I became obsessed with exploring every nook and cranny to find every stupid shard. I had no idea you could romance people. When I realized you could, I had no idea Bull was going to shove my Inqy against the wall (I distinctly recall my husband coming home at that time and me yelling at him to come back later in what was truly the beginning of my DA thirst.) I found myself obsessed with the game, the people. I replayed it over and over, exploring different options, restarting when horrifying choices went horrifyingly awry.

I truly fell in love with this game, and started writing. My characters became complex to me, truly real people in my mind who held my heart and made me ache for them. I hadn't posted a fanfiction online in well over ten years, after posting on FF.net as a young teen and being ripped apart by people who wanted to criticize a child's writing. I was terrified, but my husband encouraged me. So I dipped my toes in the fandom, to feel out a bit beforehand. And created this blog.

I've been on Tumblr since 2011, but it's drastically changed since then. I still maintain that I wish I would have created a main blog for this, rather than a side blog, but I had no idea how much this fandom was about to change my life. I began reblogging all the wonderful things people post on here, the things that make me laugh, the things that make me cry. And, most importantly to me, I created an Ao3 account and posted my first DA fic. And I've had nothing but support, and love, and encouragement from this fandom. To Weather the Storm is still in process. In slow process, because (as my followers know) Lanistair has eclipsed my heart. There's a lot I would like to go back and change, and maybe someday I will. My writing has changed since I first began writing that fic two years ago. And it's all because of this fandom - because of your passion, because of how supportive you are, because I have never been in a fandom more obsessed with other people's OCs. It's kept me writing, creating. And I've started drawing, for the first time since I was in elementary school (yet another creative outlet stifled by criticism that's come back to me with your support). I put my best work into my DAI cosplay (pic below, because I'm still so proud of it and honestly, this fandom was my motivation).

Not only has this fandom awoken a creativity in me that had been lying dormant for so long, I've met the most wonderful people in this fandom. People I can call friends, who check up on me through the ups and downs of my health struggles, who do their best to cheer me up (and so often succeed, even if it's just for a moment). I hear a lot about the cattiness of this fandom, but by some stroke of luck I've managed to only collect the best in my corner of the internet. You are all wonderful, kind people. Even those of you I'm not mutuals with, those who haven't spoken directly to me - your reblogs, your likes, your anonymous asks that keep me on my toes - you all brighten my day so much. My health changed so drastically in the past few years to where I don't make it out of the house much, but this fandom has given me a sense of belonging, a connection that gives me a reason to wake up in the morning when I'm feeling down. Dragon Age gave me an escape, but you all are what makes this fandom what it is. Don't ever forget that. Dragon Age, this fandom, my life, would not be the same without each and every one of you. So, thank you, creators of Dragon Age. Thank you, everyone who follows this blog. Thank you, everyone who likes or comments or kudos or reblogs my silly fanfictions and encourages me to keep creating. My life would not be the same without any of you. Today is your day ❤️

(of course, in true Tumblr fashion, Tumblr is making the photo below look awful, so, click here for better quality pretty please. I swear I don’t edit my photos to look blurry :| )

#dragonageday #dragon age #d4day #seriously you all have no idea how much impact you have on my life #so #thank you <3

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forwhycas · 4 years

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Oh What a World (part 2)

So this part is wayyyyy longer than the first part, but it super cute and we find out a bit more about Charlie, super fluffy and swearing since who doesn't love a beautiful girl who swears like a trucker! This picture of Joe gives me life (even thought its blurry, if anyone has a better quality version, please send it to me) I hope you enjoy:)

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When you got home you immediately hung up the clock and put the matching towels out as well. You snapped a picture and sent it to Joe.

Charlie: Be jealous!

Joey: I’m not, but I’m glad you like it. I have a lot of pictures from today, did you want me to send them?

Charlie: Yes please!

20 pictures later, and your favorite one was Joe holding you from behind your arms up pretending to be jack and rose from the titanic on the red steps. You zoomed in on somebodies face you noticed in the background, this woman’s face looked so annoyed, you screenshotted it and sent it to Joe.

Charlie: This woman’s face is how I’m going to feel waking up in the morning, because my shift starts at 8 L

Joey: So call out, I’m sure wherever you work can handle a day without you.

Charlie: Well, I wish they could but I work at a group home, so if their one person down the place kind of runs awkwardly. Which can cause some pretty pissed off kids.

Joey: You work at a group home?

Charlie: Yea it’s part time, and definitely the most interesting job I’ve had. I might see if someone can cover for me though, I can feel myself already struggling to get out of bed tomorrow morning.

You txt your coworker Emily, reminding her that she owed you.

Charlie: Remember when I covered your shift that week you went on vacation with your friends?

Emily: Yes, do you need me to cover you this week?

Charlie: Yes please, final exams start next and I’m stressing L

Emily: I got you, I’ll txt Eric to let him know what’s going on.

Charlie: Thank you!

You sighed with relief, while yes finals were next week, you were fully prepared! You just really haven’t had a day off from work in a long time, and you mine as well use the favor. You smiled at the fact that you could hang out with Joe tomorrow, he was easy to be yourself around and it was refreshing. Your phone vibrated.

Joey: So?

Charlie: A whole week covered, and this week my classes are online because finals are next week, so basically all I have to do is a bunch of practice quizzes.

Joey: So what are you going to do with your new found freedom?

You had so many ideas but the first one was to cover the tattoo you had on the side of your arm that had your exes initials. You facetimed Joe. When he picked up he was in bed looking super cozy, you kind of wished you were still with him, laying on his couch.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I have the best idea! See this tattoo right here?” He nodded. “I want to get this covered up tomorrow.”

“Who’s initials are those?”

“My ex’es.”

“Ah, well then I’m all for that.”

“Want to come with me?” He yawned and nodded. “Awesome, do you have any tattoos that need covering?” He snorted.

“I don’t have any tattoos Charlie.” He yawned again.

“Well I have…” You started to count on your free hand. “10? No 14! Yea 14, catch up! Anyways go to bed grandpa! Meet me at mine for 11, I’m on the 5th floor, my last name is on the door. Do you even know my last name?” He nodded.

“Everleigh? Right?” You nodded and said goodnight, he waved then hung up. You hopped in the shower and towel dried your hair the best you could before falling asleep. You awoke to pounding on your door. You checked your phone and you had 3 txt’s from Joe.

Joey: I’m up, and heading over with coffee.

Joey: Warning I’m out of breath and I’ve only walked up two flights of stairs.

Joey: Your still asleep!

The last txt was 10 minutes ago. You sprung up out of bed, realizing you slept in just underwear you grabbed your bath robe and wrapped it around you. You unlocked the door, and Joe was holding a tray with two coffees, an annoyed look on his face. You smiled, “Morning sunshine!” his face softened when you spoke, he pushed past you, you could feel the coldness radiating off of him.

“Good morning, glad you got some extra sleep.” He smiled and slumped down onto your couch. Placing the tray of coffee on your end table. You sat down next to him and reached over him to grab one, placing it in his hand and then grabbing the other one.

“Sorry, I guess I forgot to set an alarm. Thanks for the coffee, do you want something to eat?” You got up and went to your cabinets, you remembered the muffins you bought from the bakery down the block 2 days ago. “I have blueberry muffins!” You turned around to look at him. “I’m trying to cure your morning grumpiness with delicious muffins and you look like you want to kill me, has this friendship already run its course?” He chuckled. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He got up and came over to you.

“You have a piece of hair sticking up the opposite way…there.” He was so close to you, not moving. “Also yes, I’ll take a muffin please.” You reached up to grab the container and put them on the counter, you got a pan and started to melt some butter on it. Joe was leaning against your counter on his phone.

“Do you want a whole one, or a half one?”

“I’ll split one with you, I’m not super into eating this early.” He nodded then went back to his phone. “There’s a really good tattoo shop called village tattoo, it’s by Washington Park. I went there with my friend Sebastian once, they do some good work. What are you getting to cover that up anyways?”

“I think I’m gonna get some daisy’s and roses, It’ April’s and June’s birth month flower.” You cut the muffin half and through them on the pan, it sizzled slightly. You took a sip of coffee.

“Who’s birthday is it in April and June?”

“Well my dad’s birthday was April 17th, and mine is June 16th.” You grabbed some plates and grabbed one half of the muffin handing the plate with the muffin on it to Joe. You grabbed yours as well. “Try it.” You smiled weakly at him. You took a bite and you moaned. “Oh fuck this is good…” Joe took a dramatic bite, and his eyes rolled back into his head. “See it’s delicious! Your welcome for warming it up for you!” You nudged him in the side. “Right while you make love to that muffin I’m gonna get dressed. Make yourself at home.” You winked at him and walked across the living room to your door, you left it slightly open. You went through your closet and found a NYU long sleeve, you contemplated putting on a bra but did so anyways, you then contemplated putting on actual pants, you did that as well. Joe was walking around yourliving room, looking at all the paintings, mostly landscapes, and the family photos of you and your dad.

“Are you an only child?” Joe yelled.

“Yup!” You yelled with a mouth full of tooth paste. “You?” You spit it out and rinsed with some mouthwash. You washed your face and moisturized. Joe yelled another question.

“A brother and a sister! Just you and your dad?”

You took a deep breath and walked out of your room. “My mom dipped when I was about 10, I don’t remember much of her.” You walked over to your shoe tray and started to tie your nikes. “How far is this tattoo shop? Also is it grossly cold outside?” Joe put his still cold hands on the sides of your face. “Yea it’s grossly cold outside.” You pushed his hands away and wrapped the purple scarf you bought the day before, and the matching gloves. “Wallet!” You went to your cabinet above your fridge, where you always put it. Joe gave you a weird look. “The dead lock on this door sucks so I figure if someone’s going to break in the last place they would look for money is above the fridge.” You shrugged.

“I have never seen a woman get ready so fast in my life.” You were zipping up your jacket and putting your wallet in your inside breast pocket. “Impressive, really.” You smiled at him and grabbed your coffee from the counter, grabbing your keys from the hook next to the door.

“Ready?”

“Yup.”

Joe convinced you to take the subway for once. You just hated confined spaces. Which you expressed to him, but he told you that you had to get over your fear eventually. You sat so close to him your thighs touched. “Are you for real right now?” You turned your head towards him, not realizing how close you guys really were. You glanced at his lips for a split second. Then darted up to his eyes.

“Yes, I’m claustrophobic, and I’m not just saying that.” He rolled his eyes and he put his hand out on his thigh, motioning for you to grab it. You hesitated and decided to just rest your head on his shoulder instead. Closing your eyes, taking a deep breath. He ended up grabbing your hand anyways. “Ugh Joe! Why are your hands so sweaty!”

“Because it’s hot in here, I can’t help it!” He let go of your hand, wiped his hand on your jeans, then grabbed your hand again. “Better?” You snorted and gave him a disgusted look.

“Yes, now that I have all of these Joe germs on my leg. Much better, thank you.” He rolled his eyes at you and reached in his pocket for his phone, he was scrolling through Instagram, you looked over his shoulder being snoopy. “I forgot to tell you, I started to watch Dear Sidewalk the other night with Dean.” You paused.

“And?” He stopped scrolling and he looked at you from the side since your head was still on his shoulder.

“Your very cute as a mailman…” Joe shook his head and continued scrolling.

“Wait till you get to the end…”

“I will say it’s odd having an actor as a friend, because while I’m watching Gardner going through all of this lovey dovey shit, all I can think about is you snorting orange juice out of your nose the other day at breakfast…”

“Just when I thought you forgot…”

“I wish I got it on video, I’d show it to every news outlet, make so much bank!” You chuckled to yourself, Joe turned towards you fully. “I’m joking!” You rolled your eyes and rested your head back on his shoulder, you grabbed your phone out of your jacket pocket and started to scroll through your Instagram as well.

“So you do have social media…”

“You’ve probably been spelling my last name wrong, I don’t know how though since it’s on my apartment door…” You grabbed his phone from his hands and looked up your Instagram account everleigh.charliee93, you followed it for him.

“Do me a favor and stalk me later though.”

“Who says I’ll stalk your Instagram?”

“It’s human nature to be curious, I’m a psych major remember?” The train stopped and your breath hitched, squeezing his hand in the process.

“Relax, this is our stop anyways.” He got up, putting his phone back in his pocket, his hands still attached to yours. You let it go once when you got back onto the streets, you saw the tattoo shop sign a few minutes later and squealed with excitement! Once inside you took your gloves off and waited at the front desk. A girl came out from the back with bright pink hair and gave you guys a cute smile.

“What can I do for you guys today?”

“I’m looking to get some letting covered up with some floral creation.” You stripped off your jacket and put it over Joe’s shoulder, then pulled up your sleeve, she took a look and asked what you were thinking for flowers. You told her your idea and she nodded and went to go get another artist.

“This is Nick, he loves a good floral piece. Nick this is…”

“Charlie! Nice to meet you.” You gave him a warm smile and he smiled back. Joe noticed how he wasn’t the only one who was effected by your smile. Nick’s face almost dropped when your face lit up.

“So what kind of flowers are we talking about?”

“Roses and daisies, just enough to cover this, not too much.” You motioned to the side of your left forearm.

“Color?”

“I think I’ll keep it black and white for now.”

“Right let me take a few pictures and then size up the area and then I can get you a price range.” After doing so the damage was 200$

“Yea that sounds about right! Do you have time for it today?”

“I have the whole afternoon open, give me about 45 minutes to do a few sketches, then we can get going on it! Have a seat and I’ll come grab you when I’m ready. Rider can grab a copy of your ID and have you sign a few things in the mean-time.” You pulled out your wallet and started the process. You finally sat down on their huge couch in their waiting area, putting your legs over Joe’s lap.

“What do tattoo’s feel like anyways?” Joe asked as he rested his hands on your legs.

“The only way I can describe it is like a sunburn jabbing into your skin over and over again. Some places hurt a lot, others don’t. It also depends on a person’s pain tolerance, I have a pretty good tolerance for pain, so it doesn’t bother me too much.” You looked back down on your phone, smiling a little as you txted a potential date. “Is a paint and sip a good idea for a date?”

“I would enjoy that, I have no artistic ability what so ever, but I’m sure someone would enjoy that. Why?”

“I think I’m gonna ask this guy from my stats class out to do a paint and sip next weekend after finals are over.” Joe appeared great from the outside but in all actuality he was annoyed.

“Friday or Saturday night?”

“Ummmm, Friday night.” Joe was actually annoyed now, he had asked you to go out with him and his friend that night.

“I thought you were coming out with me and my friend that night?” He tried not to outwardly appear pissed.

“Well the paint and sip is at 6, I’m not meeting you guys till 9, right?” You looked up at him from your phone still smiling giddily.

“True, but I wanted to pre-game with you!” He frowned like a child.

“Well, pretend I’m their in spirit, I’ll be pre gaming with wine, so I’ll be showing up slightly buzzed.” You looked back down at your phone, and giggled when he said yes. “Ha, he said yes!”

“You make it look so easy!” Joe crossed his arms, turning to face you.

“That’s because it is…” You rolled your eyes, then felt bad for being bratty. “Look if I can casually ask someone out, anyone can! Who are you interested in right now?” You, he thought. He was shocked that he thought that, but then realized it was probably just because you were new in his life, he was fixated on you. He was blushing though.

“Nobody? Yea no one.”

“Nobody? Everybody is interested in someone.”

“I mean, one person, I think?”

“You think?” He shrugged.

“Alright Charlie, let’s get you started!” Nick came out and he motioned for you follow him. Joe was relieved he was saved from the conversation going any further. You sprung up and grabbed Joe by the arm. Rider was right Nick enjoyed a good floral tattoo. He came up with 4 solid layouts in just under an hour. You loved all of them but went with the third choice as it flowed better with the shape of your arm. “So who’s initials are these anyways? I love getting a good story from new clients.” He was shaving the peach fuzz away as you got comfy in his chair.

“My ex-fiance’. Quinten.”

“Wow, well he fucked up!”

“Royally.”

“I see you have some other tattoo’s, but I always like to break a tattoo session in half, give the client a break for a smoke or some food. Where did you get your other tattoos from?”

“I’m from the cape, so mostly black pearl and coastline. I like to keep it local.”

“I love the cape actually, I’ve been to black pearl, where’s coastline?”

“Provincetown, all the way at the tip of Mass.” He put the stencil on and gripped it with his hand.

“I’ll have to check it out! So about the flowers, just your favorite flowers or?”

“Oh, well my dad passed about 6 years now, and his birth month flower are daisies, and mine are roses, so I figured I’d cover up this assholes initials with something meaningful.” You shrugged. Joe didn’t know this but had a hunch since there weren’t many recent pictures of you with your dad back at your apartment.

“Well I’m sure he would love it, my dad passed away a while back as well. Fuck cancer.” Nick frowned.

“I’m so sorry, your right fuck cancer!”

“How did your dad pass, if you don’t mind me asking?” There was always something about opening up to a tattoo artist, they made it so easy, they were like your therapist.

“Early on set dementia. Very early…” You frowned but gave him a faint smile.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. Fuck Dementia!” You chuckled.

“Fuck dementia!” You responded and looked over at Joe, who looked like his whole world had crashed and burned. He was thinking about you being sad and it made his heart sink. He just wanted to wrap you in his arms and tell you how sorry he was. But instead he said ‘fuck dementia’.

“Alright darlin, gonna start off with some outlines, then we’ll break and do some shading! Sound good.” Nick questioned.

“Yes sir!” After an hour of outlining and he got to one spot where it just felt like shit, your free hand grabbed Joe’s thigh, you bit your lip. “Wow that’s a tender spot.” Joe was brought out of his day dreaming session when your hand collided with his thigh. He was a year into your Instagram, you were right stalking someone else’s social media was just human nature. His free hand grabbed yours and he gave it a squeeze and a reassuring smile as he continued scrolling, he hit the post where you posted about your engagement. He didn’t even realize you had started to talk to him. “Earth to Joe?”

“I’m sorry what?” He looked up from his phone fast.

“I said you should get me some McDonald’s when Nick here is done with the outline. Pretty please.” You gave him the cutest smile ever, squinting your eyes together.

“Well I can’t say no to that face, you’re lucky your cute when you do that.”

“Oh my god, was that a compliment? Did I hear cute come out of that mouth?”

“Yes, it was, don’t get used to it. What do you want?”

“Everything off of the menu! Just kidding, I have to be stoned for that. Maybe just some McChickens and a large fry.” Joe was learning so much about you today.

“Right, well I’m make sure not to go on a McDick’s run for you when your stoned then.” Nick was finished and wrapped your arm up. You stretched and let out a squeal, then yawned. Another thing to add to the list of cute things you do, he thought. You gave him your card, and he fought with you about how it was just McDonalds. “Well maybe Nick want’s something?”

“I could go for a happy meal, mostly for the toy, my daughter loves those!”

“See Nick’s kid wants a cute toy, take the plastic square!” You waved it in front of his face, he was un-amused. “Do it for the kid Joe, unless you hate kids!”

“Definitely don’t hate kids, kids are great.” He zipped up his jacket, and left. Nick already had a cigarette between his lips and was gearing up to go out to have a smoke. It’s been months since you had one and just looking at it you already knew you were gonna ask to bum one off of him.

“Nick can I trouble you for one of those bad boys?” he nodded and handed you one.

“Didn’t think you would be the type, but yea kid here ya go.” You got your jacket on and headed outside with him, you sat on the bench that was right outside of the shops window, and sat down with him, he lit it for you and you guys got to talking about each-others dads and laughing about funny times you’ve had with them. Joe was walking back towards you and he crinkled his nose when he saw you take a drag. Not cute when you smoked, but it was somehow hot when you did. He was annoyed with himself for thinking that you looked hot when you did that and he finally approached you guys. 4 bags in one hand.

“Alright so we got not one but two happy meals, because kids are great,” he glared at you “four McChikens, 3 large fries and a big mac.” He was staring at your lips as they curved around the cig and then blew out the smoke.

“Thanks Joe!”

“Thanks man! I can’t wait to see what toys these things have.” Nick put out his cig and you did to and you guys all chowed down before going back inside again. The shading seemed to go by faster and before you knew it, it was done. You got up to look at it in the mirror, you could cry, it was so pretty. You just nodded your head and hugged Nick. He blushed when you did so, catching him off guard with such a personal gesture. He took a few pictures and Joe took some for you on your phone.

“Alright 150$.”

“You said 200 before?”

“Yes but your cool and sat so nicely for me, also your friend here got me some food. So 150$.”

You pulled out your card and paid and then slid him a 20$. He thanked you and you and Joe said goodbye to him and Rider.

“So what now? It’s almost 4…”

“I don’t know about you but I really could for a good nap.” You shoved your hands in your jacket pockets.

“I’m always ready for a nap.” Joe smiled at you. You convinced him again to walk since you had enough of the subway. “If were gonna walk can we nap at my place, it’s closer and my legs hurt from walking yesterday.” You nodded and 20 minutes later you were in his kitchen cracking open a beer, annoyed that he was still deciding what to watch.

“Joe! You’ve been searching for something for ages, just pick something, I’m really not picky, I’ll watch anything.” He ignored you and he kept searching. “Family guy?” he nodded. “Finally!” You yelled from the kitchen. He was laying on the couch. And you couldn’t help it, you snuggled up next to him, he didn’t mind at all. “This is fine right? Because I wanted to lay down first but your long ass legs took my spot first…” he rolled his eyes at you.

“When you fall asleep don’t drool, this is a new sweater.” You rolled your eyes this time. Family guy was playing in the background and you closed your eyes. Between Joe’s laughing and the rising and falling of his chest you passed out quick. When you woke up Joe was wrapped around you, one of his arms draped over your waist, the other wrapped around your shoulder, your head resting on his bicep. He smelled delicious, his sweater heating you up, his bicep soft and comforting on the side of your face. You could stay like this forever, you shut your eyes again and tried to fall back asleep.

When Joe awoke he realized he completely attached himself to you, but you looked so warm and cozy to him, one of your arms was underneath the pillow his head rested under and the other over his chest clutching at his sweater, he stretched his free arm and watched as you shivered so he grabbed the blanket that was draped over the side of his couch, he gingerly moved a piece of hair away from your face and watched you snuggled back into his arm, he could feel your soft breaths tickle it. He wrapped his arm back around your waist and fell back asleep.

You awoke to the smell of coffee and something greasy. You had the blanket still wrapped around you and it smelled like Joe, you smiled and got up to stretch. “So did I drool on you?” Joe jumped a little as you entered his kitchen.

“Nope! Much appreciated.” Joe was in sweatpants and a hoodie, which reminded you of the sweatpants you bought the other day.

“MY SWEATPANTS!” You ran to the bathroom and put them on, along with washing your tattoo and finding some lotion on the top shelf of his medicine cabinet. You walked out and smiled while hopping up onto his counter. “I feel so much better, sleeping in those jeans was the worst! Also falling asleep in a bra is disgustingly annoying as well.”

“Is that what was digging into my rib cage all night?”

“You think it was digging into your rib cage all night! I have marks from the underwire!”

“Well I’m making pancakes, so hopefully that’ll cheer you up.”

“I fucking love pancakes! My dad always used to put m&m’s in them for me!” You smiled at him.

“Sadly I don’t have any, but I’ll make a mental note for next time.” After breakfast you continued to watch some more family guy, before you started to get ready to leave.

“Alright I guess I should head out, I’m already pre stressing for finals next week, make sure to txt me every once and a while to make sure I’m alive.” He chuckled.

“I don’t miss college, but I will try to remember to shoot you a ‘are you still breathing’ txt.”

“You’re the best! Alright wish me luck I’m gonna take the subway.”

“Wow, all on your own! They grow up so fast!” He wiped away a fake tear.

“Shut up!” You gave him a quick hug and you were on your way home. Subway wasn’t too bad, although you missed your stop twice, so it took you an extra 30 minutes to get home.

Charlie: Finally home, I missed my stop twice! But I did it! Also I’ve finally taken off my bra and my boobs feel ten times happier!

Joey: So proud, glad your boobs aren’t angry anymore.

You chuckled and took a long shower, right when you got out someone was knocking on your door. It was either Dean or your neighbor asking for something. Dean lived on the third floor and always came knocking for something. And your instincts were right, an out of breath Dean in half drag was standing there, hands on his knees.

“I need to borrow some hair spray and hair gel to lay these edges, help!” You pulled him by the arm and sat him down on your toilet as you helped him style his edges.

“Where have you been! I’ve been txting you for like 2 days and nothing!” He was using your mascara and a few other of your scarce beauty supplies.

“Oh I was with Joe! He took me on a tour of the city on Friday and then yesterday we went to get a tattoo, I just got home a few hours actually.” Dean smirked at you. “What!”

“You like him! You were with him for two days straight? Don’t answer me, or anybody in the group chat. You totally like him!”

“I do not! He’s just a new friend and he helps me navigate the city, still a newby remember!”

“Have you slept with him?”

“What! No! Don’t get any craze ideas either, nothing is going on between us.” He was still giving you that same look. “Stop it! Finish up or you’ll be late!”

“Charlie if you haven’t noticed, you have an effect on guys. You bat those long eye lashes of yours or give that cute cheesin smile and they are hooked.” You looked at him baffled.

“I don’t know what youre talking about.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Your fucking gorgeous and you don’t realize it, it’s a tragedy.” He was shaking his head and gave you a kiss on the cheek before he put your makeup bag away and started off for the front door. “Joe is gonna fall in love with you I can already tell…” he pulled you in for a hug. “Don’t forget to txt me tomorrow around 3 so we can take that online practice quiz together!” You nodded as he started to gingerly walk down the stairs in his glittery red go-go boots.

“Please be careful in those shoes! Have fun tonight!”

“You know it girl! Dinner is on me tomorrow night!” You chuckled and closed and locked your door again. Doing your nightly routine, and finally passing out around 3am, shortly after Dean sent you a ‘I’m alive and home safe’ txt. When you woke up it was 1pm, and you were scrolling through Instagram. You decided to post the picture of your new tattoo, ‘daisies and roses and permanent ink, oh my!’. You finally got out of bed a half hour later and txted Dean to make sure he would be up in time to take the practice quiz in time with you.

Charlie: Your bitch ass better be up! T-1 hour till practice quiz.

Queen Dean: My bitch ass is up and doing a facial, counting my cash, I’m thinking Chinese food for dinner?

Charlie: I’ve been eating like shit lately so I mine as well keep the trend going!

Queen Dean: That’s my girl! Order it now by the time it get’s here I’ll be over, make sure to get extra egg rolls!

Charlie: Of course!

Dean came barreling in 20 minutes later, green face mask on and everything.

“I brought a sheet mask for you, and some undereye treatment, because those under eye circles are DARK! Don’t worry this will help though chica!” You chuckled at him and shuffled over on your couch.

“I lit some candles, put your fave musical on and I have tissues just in case we cry, I think were set for this practice quiz.”

“Your like my mom, stop it! But thank you, you know I have that test anxiety, I wish I could take all of my exams with you, you definitely know how to calm down a hysterical gay man.” He kissed your cheek, and set up his computer on your coffee table, your phone buzzed.

Joey: good luck on your practice exam!

You smiled and put your phone down. Dean of course picking up on your classic wide eyed smile. “Are you sure you don’t like him just a little bit?” He cocked his head to the side.

“Dean I’m sure, he’s just wishing me luck on my practice exam, simple gesture, calm down.” Just then someone started to knock on your door. “FOOD!” Dean laughed at your excitement and got up to pay, all singles. “I see you had a goodnight.”

“I’m convinced it’s because of the new fishnets you bought me, so thank you, now please shove these crab ragoons into your stomach, I can hear it yelling at me from here.” He placed all the food out on your coffee table and you two counted down the minutes till the exam. It took you an hour and a half out of the 2 it gave you. After demolishing all the food you were exhausted. Dean was already asleep in your bed but you were wired, and also too full to function. You decided to txt Joe.

Charlie: While Dean is passed out after that hour and half torture, I’m over here in a food coma ready to do 5 more exams, any tips to tire me out?

Joey: Tea? A nice run? Sex?

You snorted when you read that last one.

Charlie: I do have tea, I’m in no shape to run, and sex? Well, I have no one to really do that with at the moment, sadly.

Joey: Well what about Dean?

Charlie: Dean is very much gay.

Joey: Did not know that. Well what about tinder? Isn’t that what every young person uses these days?

Charlie: Joe you do realize you are also young, right?

Joey: Well yes, but 33 years old’s on tinder is weird, for you though it’ll be easy.

Charlie: Maybe I should call up Bradley from my stats class, I mean I was gonna wait till the paint and sip to try to get some action, but…

Joey: You’re going to fuck a guy named Brad?

Charlie: BRADLEY! Also sex is sex, who cares what the person’s name is, you’re the one who suggested it!

Joey: I mean you’re right.

Charlie: Alright I’m done talking sex with you, I think I’m just gonna stick with tea for now, Bradley can wait till Friday!

After a week of practice quizzes and a lot of fast food courtesy of Dean, you had come down with a nasty cold, probably due to stress, just in time for actual finals. You had to not only cancel your date but also going out with Joe and his friend.

Charlie: I have a cold, I just had to cancel on Bradley:(

Joey: Well there goes your opportunity to get laid! Are you cancelling on me and Chase as well?

Charlie: If I didn’t have finals next week, I would push myself to go out, but I can’t. I’m sorry Joe L

Joey: Hey it’s ok, I think I might just cancel on him and reschedule to when you’re feeling better, I saw him last night anyways.

Charlie: I was looking forward to getting properly fuck up with you and him, but yea it’s gonna have to wait till next year.

Joey: Next year?

Charlie: Yea after finals, I’m out of here and I’ll be home for 2 weeks. Which reminds me, I got you a gift!

Joey: Oh did you?

Charlie: Nothing big, just a little something.

Joey: Well now I have to go get you something epic.

Charlie: You really don’t need to, I just saw it and I was like ‘Joe would like this’ so I got it.

Joey: Yea I’m gonna get you something now.

Charlie: I wanna see you before I leave though, maybe a movie night?

Joey: Sounds good to me, when were you thinking?

Charlie: Well I’m taking all my finals on Tuesday and Wednesday, so Thursday?

Joey: Sounds good, I’ll see you then.

Charlie: Remember to check up on me to see if I’m still alive, because I’m gonna need all the luck I can get!

Joey: Don’t be so dramatic, but I promise I will.

You laughed, as you made your way to your kitchen to make some tea. After a long couple of days and a lot of cold medicine by Wednesday your cold was almost gone, just in time for your stats exam, the one you were nervous for the most.

Charlie: I’m about to take my stats of psych exam, if I don’t txt you by at least 7, I’m dead on the floor.

Joey: lol, you’ll do just fine.

You chugged some water and took a caffeine pill to keep you alert. 3 hours later you were half asleep on your couch and your phone chimed.

Joey: It’s 7, are you dead?

Charlie: Nope, but I feel it, I’m actually tired and ready to fall asleep at a normal time, this is odd.

Joey: Go to bed then, I’ll see you tomorrow night. My place or yours?

Charlie: Mine, I don’t want to leave this apartment till I have to drive home Friday night.

Joey: Alright, so I’ll see you tomorrow night around 7. Also why did you drive into the city, it’s going to be a nightmare for you to get out of here with all the tourists!

Charlie: Yea 7 is good, also I didn’t feel like shipping all of my stuff from Mass to here, so I stuffed my car with all of my shit, and I’m an aggressive driver so it’ll be fine. I’m gonna drink some tea and pass the fuck out, see you tomorrow night Joey!

Joey: Ugh. Stop with Joey, goodnight Charlie.

It was 1 in the afternoon when you awoke, you checked your phone and there were 5 txts from Dean.

Queen Dean: Charlie, I need to borrow those sequined tights you have.

Queen Dean: Is your bitch ass still asleep?

Queen Dean: It’s noon, you never sleep this late, have exams really killed you?

Queen Dean: I miss you!

Queen Dean: Come out with me and the gang tonight!

You smiled, and finally opened your eyes enough to txt him back.

Charlie: Me and Joe are doing a movie night, so I can’t, when I get back though I promise I’ll go out with everyone.

Queen Dean: Ughhhhhhhh, I’m coming down for those tights, so put clothes on.

You groaned and wrapped your robe around you, you unlocked the door for him and made your way to the kitchen to start making some food. Dean came in a few minutes later with a plate of pancakes and bacon. You moaned when he sat them down in front of you.

“Ed just woke up too, so he made a plate for you. Where’s those tights!” You shoved some food in your mouth and got up to go to your dresser pulling them out for him.

“Please don’t rip them, I haven’t worn them yet!” Dean was about the same build as you, just much taller. So he borrowed a lot of your basic essential wardrobe.

“I promise! Enjoy that food, I gotta do a dry run of my outfit for tonight. Speaking of tonight, you and Joe?” He wiggled his eye brows.

“Me and Joe hang out all the time just us two. Although last time I did fall asleep on him…” You thought back to his arms wrapped around you and you started to blush.

“Oh my god! You did not tell me about this, how was that? He does have some nice arms.”

“Well I told you about how he took me to that tattoo shop, after that we went back to his and watched some family guy and I fell asleep on top of him and when I woke up I was gonna skip out but his arms were around me so I stayed. And your right his arms are quite nice…”

“Oh my god you do like him!”

“Nope, but he’s nice looking I’m not gonna deny that.”

“Would you sleep with him?”

“Jesus Dean!”

“I bet you he’s lar…”

“I really don’t want to think about Joe’s dick! He’s my friend, just like you’re my friend, nothing more!”

“Well that’s too bad you would look cute next to him, sure he’s a little bit older but you two would be cute together!”

“I’m not really looking to be in a relationship with anybody for a while, last one really fucked me up.”

“Well don’t date him then, just fuck and be friends.” Dean shrugged.

“Not really into casual sex these days.”

“Ugh! Your lame sometimes, I’m gonna leave you to eat your food, have fun with Joe, tell him I said hi!” He left with your tights and you devoured the pancakes. You ended up falling asleep again, and woke up around 6:30. You checked your phone, and you had a txt from Joe.

Joey: Heading over now, I picked up some snacks.

Shit! You hopped in the shower and just as you were getting out you heard a knock on your door. You quickly wrapped a towel around your head and secured your robe around your body. You opened the door and Joe looked so cozy in his sweatpants and Yankees hoodie.

“Sorry I fell asleep again, but I’m up!” You moved aside so he could come in. Joe tried his hardest not to eye you up and down, since your robe was way too short. “Make yourself at home, I’m gonna put some clothes on.” You closed the door behind him and made your way back to your bathroom. You got on your usual attire and tied up your hair in a bun.

“I got skittles, pop-corn, chocolate covered almonds, and m&m’s!” Joe yelled from your living room. You smiled as you rubbed your moisturizer into your face. You came out and plopped onto your couch next to him.

“You know I’ve gained a whole 7 pounds since I started to hang out with you.” You said as you grabbed the bag of m&m’s.

“Hey I just like good food, you’re the one who always eats whatever I get.” He stuck his hand in the bag and devoured whole hand full of m&m’s.

“So I’m thinking Wizard of Oz, it’s my favorite, but I will cry when Dorothy says goodbye to everyone in Oz, so fair warning on that.” You grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and through it over you and Joe.

“I mean that is a very sad part, I’ll probably cry as well.” You turned the t.v on and started the movie up, you couldn’t help but sing along with Judy Garland as she sang somewhere over the rainbow. Jo stared at you in disbelief, he didn’t know you could sing. Another thing to add to the list of cute things he thought. “Oh wow.” He was looking at you.

“What, I can’t not sing along.” You shrugged.

“Yea but you can sing, like good! Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Run, I cannot run to save my life.” You laughed.

“Ha! I can run, so I have one thing over you, that and my height!” He had a smug look on his face.

“Well congrats on being a giraffe.” You rolled your eyes and grabbed the bag of kettle corn, and through some pieces of it at his head. “Don’t you dare throw any at my hair, it’ll get lost!”

“So you can throw food at me but I can’t throw food at you? That seems very unfair.”

“Life’s unfair!” You shoved some of it in your mouth and then snuggled up next to him. He welcomed you with open arms. As the movie went on and it got to when Dorothy was saying goodbye to everyone in Oz, you tried your hardest not to cry, but the tears poured out. You looked up at Joe to see if he was crying as well, he wasn’t but he did look super sad, he caught you staring and you smiled at him as tears ran down your face.

“Jesus Charlie you weren’t kidding.” His free hand reached for the side of your face and wiped them away, his hand lingered just a little bit too long and you began to blush at the contact, it was sweet and you almost melted into his touch. When his hand moved away you turned to look at the tv again. “Any other movies that make you cry?”

“Marley and Me, Pride and Prejudice, Titanic, The Persuit of Happyness, My Girl, Awkenings, The Green Mile, ummmmm oh and Finding Neverland!” You looked up at him, eyes still glossy.

“Right well, let’s not ever watch any of those! Although those are all great movies, don’t feel like seeing you cry anymore.” You got up from leaning into his side and reached for the remote.

“Here, you pick something.” You handed him the remote then assumed your position next to him.

“Your like a cat, you know that?” He motioned to the way you were curled up next to him.

“You should see me when I go home to my dog, he get’s annoyed so fast when I make him sleep in my bed and I’m all up in his personal bubble.”

“What kind of dog?”

“Jacks a Chocolate lab, he’s 4, and he is the absolute love of my life, I’m so excited to go home to see him.” Joe looked down at you and you had that wide smile on your face, the one you make when you talk about something that makes your extremely happy.

“Who takes care of him when your gone?”

“My Aunt Sherry, she lives a town over, which means when I pick him up he’s going to be even more excited to see me because I’m taking him on a car ride, and those are his favorite!” Joe was in awe of how happy you were right now, and his heart was racing just imagining how cute you would look sleeping in bed with your dog next to you. “If I remember I’ll facetime you when I get home Friday night so you can see how fucking crazy he get’s when he’s in my car.” Joe nodded at you and finally decided on Dunkirk. “Oh this is the one with Harry Styles in it! He’s so pretty, I’m pumped now.”

“Harry Styles?”

“Yea he was in one direction? You know that song what makes you beautiful?” He looked down at you with his eye brows furrowed. “Ugh I keep forgetting your older than me, hold please.” You reached for your phone and looked up all the members for him. “This ringing a bell?”

“They’re all English right?”

“Yup! And Harry was always my favorite, so I am pumped! Even though it’s a sad movie I’m ready to see this man’s perfect face.” A few minutes in and their he was. “Ahhhhhh look at him, that’s my man!”

“So your into older English men?”

“Well fist of all, I’m the same age as him and second of all I don’t have a type. But you’re going to look at me in the eyes and tell me he’s not an attractive person?” He looked at the screen again and paused it.

“I mean he’s not ugly.” He shrugged.

“You should here him sing, he’s a fucking angel!” Joe pushed play and the movie continued. You ended up falling asleep an hour in, per usual. Joe nudged you and you buried your face further into his side.

“Well hello, you were so excited to see Harry that you fell asleep and missed the ending.”

“He didn’t die did he?” You yawned and slowly sat up straight.

“No, you missed so many good parts though, promise me you’ll re-watch it when you get home.”

“Promise.” You yawned again and stretched your arms up, Joe got up and headed for your door, he started to tie his shoes, you gathered all the leftover snacks for him.

“No keep them, eat them on your way home tomorrow, think of it as a filler Christmas gift, because I’m still figuring out what to get you.” You wrapped your arms around him going on your tippy toes, he wrapped his arms loosely around your waist and buried his face into your neck. You pulled away slightly, your arms loosening their grip, however his arms were pulling you closer. You could hear your heart pounding through your ears, he glanced at your lips and you found yourself moving closer to his. His breath fanned onto your lips and you closed your eyes, you’d suddenly forgotten how to breathe.

“Charlie!” your eyes snapped open and both you and Joe jumped away from each other. You leaned your head out of your doorway to see a drunk Dean staggering towards you. “Shit was I interrupting something?”

“No!” You and Joe stated at the same time. “Um no, were just saying goodbye.” You smiled shyly at Joe. Dean was clearly drunk.

“Hey Dean! Fun night?” Joe was blushing and thank god Dean was too drunk to pick up on anything.

“Yea! You guys should have been their!” Dean smiled at Joe and you.

“Well next time I’ll gladly go out with you guys. Promise…I’m gonna head out, you guys enjoy your winter break! Bye Charlie.” He gave you both a small wave and you watched him head down the stairs. You let out a sigh, and turned your attention to Dean, you helped him to his apartment and then went to bed thinking about Joe.

#joe mazzelo x reader #imagine #fluff #swearing #fanfic

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pug-bitch · 5 years

Text

That’s not why I’m going (39)

Not again

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive. This is absolutely NOT appropriate for people under 18.

Word count: about 3,800 (I’m still on the app, so still no ‘keep reading’ unfortunately, sorry about that!!)

Notes: This picks up exactly where we left off, during the Decision Ball, as Liam is about to announce his choice (sorry again for the cliffhanger, guys, I know I pushed it kinda far :D), starting with Madeleine’s POV.

*****

Madeleine takes her place on the podium, with all the other ladies. She makes a point of staying very far from the ones she despises, which only leaves her with Kiara near her. The rest of them can fuck off.

Her heart is beating faster, but her face is impassible. Her breathing is even, her poise is perfect. Just like she’s been taught. Just like she’s been teaching herself, all her life.

The few seconds that separate her from knowing her fate drag on. When is Liam going to fucking say it? What if she failed at her mission? What if he still wants to choose the slutty commoner? She wishes the King had gone through his original plan to divulge something else on her, before the Decision. What if Madeleine needs that extra advantage?

Suddenly, she’s nervous. She has to keep it together, though, she can’t let it show. No, not now, not when she’s so close to the goal she’s fixed for herself. She looks at the crowd in front of her. Her father’s chair is irrevocably empty. He didn’t make it back from London for the occasion, probably thinking that she’s a lost cause after her broken engagement. Her mother, on the other hand, is here, but it’s exactly as if she weren’t. She’s pounding champagne flutes like it’s her job, not even looking at her regal daughter.

Suddenly, her vision blurs. All eyes are on her. Did she hear it right?

‘Lady Madeleine, I choose you. Will you accept this ring?’

Yes, yes she did. She heard it right. Time to flash a smile, to seal the deal.

‘I will,’ she says. And the crowd claps.

*****

Bastien sighs as he exits the room, about to execute the plan laid out by the King. Is this really necessary? The Prince has chosen the woman that his father wanted him to choose. Why hound the others?

He knows this is above his pay grade. But what can he say, when the King himself is giving the orders? So, he finds Rocco, one of the staff members who has been helping out with the plans, and he hands him the flashdrive.

‘When the first song ends, turn off the lights and project this.’

Rocco nods and leaves, without a word.

Well, Bastien thinks, it’s out of his hands, now.

*****

Amara turns to Olivia and Hana, a hesitant look on her face. She wants to rejoice —Liam hasn’t insisted, and hasn’t chosen her, plus he’s left Olivia alone, too. But parts of her fear that Cordonia’s future won’t be optimal, with such a cold and calculating Queen, and an immature and self-involved King. A few weeks ago, she would have just thought that it’s not her problem, but she’s come to love this country, and the people in it. Plus, she can’t help but think that Madeleine most definitely being behind all the leaks shows that there is no justice in the world. She got what she wanted, by means of deception and manipulation.

Still, Amara is relieved. Maybe she can go back to living her life, now? Liv and Hana give her a relieved but wary smile, and she understands that they’re on the same page as her.

All three of them turn to Madeleine and offer her their congratulations, which she accepts gracefully. If anything, the bitch is perfect for the job, on paper, Amara thinks.

Time for the first dance for the newly engaged couple. The other ladies leave the podium and regain their table, where they can watch Liam and Madeleine dance the Cordonian waltz —Amara looks all around her and meets Drake’s eye. He smiles at her, and her heart melts. Are they free, now? Is it that simple? Maybe she’s simply scared of believing it, maybe it’s just too good to be true.

‘Are you ok?’ Amara whispers to Liv.

She nods. ‘Yeah. Relieved for myself —and you—, but scared for the future of this fucking country.’ She shakes her head. ‘This bitch got what she wanted after all,’ she says under her breath.

Hana nods. ‘Now it’s time for the nobility to be on their toes, to counteract any crazy, cold-hearted moves she might make.’

Amara smiles. ‘Agreed. Liv, you and Bertrand, and Rashad and the others, you’ll have some work to do.’

Liv smirks. ‘Well… maybe not just us. Think about it. Maybe it’s the right time to make the most of the offer that will come your way soon.’

Amara looks at her, and Liv raises an eyebrow, a mischievous look on her face. Amara sighs. ‘So you think I should accept? And sign with my blood, basically, to be in the spotlight all my life, and no be able to return home to see my family?’

Liv sighs. ‘Don’t be dramatic, Suarez. Chill out. I was just mentioning it, but you do what you want. Plus, this isn’t The Little Mermaid or some shit —you can go back to the ocean to see your Daddy, no one is cutting off your legs.’

Hana frowns. ‘I’m not sure you watched the movie right, Olivia.’

Amara laughs. ‘Yeah, it’s not how it works. But I do agree that my dad has a King Triton vibe. Especially the beard.’ She takes a sip of her champagne. ‘But you’re right. I’ll think about it, at least.’

She is thinking about it, though. And, although it sounds tempting —being in Cordonia, with her friends, and not having to worry about returning to her depressing life in NYC— she can’t help but think about how miserable it would be for Drake. For them both. For Dramara, as Max would say. They would have to hide, at least until they tell Liam about their relationship, and then who knows how he would react.

But Amara’s thoughts have to wait. Eyes on the present. Liam and Madeleine end the waltz with a deep curtsy to the audience, who claps harder and harder. Amara finishes her glass, now is time for the dancefloor to be open to everyone. She should invite Max to dance.

But before she can get up, all lights are out. Gasps all around.

‘What the fuck?’ Liv whispers.

Amidst the commotion, Amara hears many panicked comments, a lot of them being ‘Not again’, and she remembers what Drake and Max had told her about the previous assassination attempts at court. Her instincts kick in and she gets up to place herself in front of Hana and Liv.

But a few seconds later, a light comes on. Not from one of the main chandeliers, but from a projector that sheds light on the stage. Amara’s heart beats faster. What the hell could this be?

Suddenly, she understands. The projector shows a massive picture, that she recognizes instantly.

It’s a picture of her, with Tariq. She is in her underwear, and Tariq’s hands are around her waist, making it look like they’re about to have sex. The shot is taken from a distance, with a zoom lens, which gives the picture a blurry quality. If it wasn’t this blurry, maybe people could see Amara’s disgusted and shocked look, but no.

All they see is a woman who’s sleeping with a friend of the guy she’s supposed to compete with.

A lot of Ooh and Aahs resonate through the ballroom, and Amara can hear Liv and Hana next to her, cursing out loud. She could almost smile at the thought of Hana swearing like a sailor, but her heart’s not in it.

*****

Drake’s heart jumps in his chest as he sees the picture on the ballroom wall. How dare they?

He leaps up on his feet, quickly followed by Maxwell and Michael, who is clearly wondering what’s going on. Of course he is; whoever took the picture made sure to get Amara’s profile so she wouldn’t look under attack, and they waited for the exact right moment to take the photo.

They had been waiting it out in the building across, and they knew Tariq would be there.

Tears of rage fill Drake’s eyes. So, they submitted Amara to an assault so they could get this picture? So they could ensure that she wouldn’t be Queen?

He just knows Madeleine has something to do with it. She has to.

But what breaks his heart is that Bastien does too.

*****

Leo chugs the rest of his drink. Damn, this social season is full of surprises. He’s almost jealous of all of the attention his little brother is getting, all the drama he’s inspiring.

This Amara is definitely not shy, though. He wasn’t wrong to try something with her, earlier, she would probably say yes if he insisted. Food for thought.

He looks around the room, and his eyes stop on her. She’s standing up, her chin wobbly. Hm, not the look of someone who’s been caught red-handed. She looks like she’s about to cry, when two minutes ago, she seemed perfectly happy not to have been chosen. Odd.

His head turns to the next table. More people are standing up. Maxwell, of course, who’s probably shocked to get an eyeful of his protégée. That man who’s Max’s plus one, too.

And Drake. Drake who’s standing up, helpless, his eyes wet.

Again—odd.

*****

Liam takes a deep breath as the lights come back on. For a split second when the lights went off, his heart jumped in his chest, and he flashed back to the last time the whole ballroom went dark. And the time before. When one of these sudden moments deprived him of his mother. And then, later on, when his father was targeted, and Drake’s saved him, at the cost of his own life. He shakes the feeling off. This whole thing was bad, for a completely different set of reasons. Madeleine turns to him and, in a monotone voice, whispers, ‘Wow. She had some guts sleeping with your friend behind your back. Is that why Tariq left court suddenly?’

Liam’s head spins. He nods. ‘Yes, I suppose it is,’ he whispers back.

He can’t say more. Not yet. He has to keep it together, for the sake of appearances. But there’s a lot he needs to think about.

He clears his throat and puts on his best regal smile, trying not to look at Amara, who is running out of the room. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, my security team and I will look into this matter as soon as possible, but for now, since everyone is unharmed, let’s resume the festivities.’

Most of the courtiers start chatting again, but Liam can see clearly that his close friends are trickling out, one by one, to follow Amara. Again.

He’s dying to do the same. Check on her, see if she’s holding up ok. This has happened two days in a row now. He can’t even imagine how targeted she must feel.

As the music starts again, his father approaches him. ‘Liam, you better invite your fiancée to dance again,’ he says. He gets closer to him and whispers in his ear, ‘See, when I told you it wasn’t a good idea to let strangers in. Now she has made a fool out of all of us.’

Liam frowns as his father goes back to his seat. This is awfully convenient. Just earlier, his father was trying to convince him not to let Amara stay, and now she was exposed and framed?

Yep, someone was taken for a fool alright.

Too bad for his father, Liam knows that the picture that was just projected up there does not depict a consensual encounter.

*****

Drake is breathless when he gets outside, where Amara is trying to calm down, near the fountain. ‘Here you are,’ he says, ‘are you ok?’

She nods and laughs through tears. ‘What the fuck, right? That was a setup?’

Drake sighs deeply. ‘I know. I don’t even know what to say.’

She shakes her head. ‘There’s nothing to say. We’re in the middle of a snake nest. There are some people in there who are not above staging a fucking sexual aggression to get what they want.’ She laughs nervously. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy Liam chose Madeleine, as in I’m happy he didn’t pick me, or Liv, or Hana. But man, it does hurt to see that the worst people get rewarded for their shitty actions.’

Drake nods and closes in the distance between them, enveloping Amara in a warm hug, not caring one bit if someone sees them. ‘Babe,’ he whispers, ‘I think Madeleine was helped by Bastien. He did tell me a while ago that whoever he works for has some dirt on you, I just thought the dirt was...well, Michael, after last night.’

Amara tightens her grip on Drake and takes a deep breath. ‘Fuck...I’m sorry, Drake, I know Bastien meant a lot to you.’

Drake snorts. ‘I’m the one who should be sorry, Amara. I wish I could make you feel better, right now.’

Amara smiles. ‘You are making me feel better. Just you being here with me helps.’

An out-of-breath Maxwell and a confused Michael join them outside. They both rush to Amara’s side and Maxwell exclaims, ‘Fuck, Amara, this is so bad. How are you feeling?’

Amara nods. ‘Dumbfounded. Can’t believe they’re making me relive this fucking moment and making it seem like I was enjoying it.’

Michael cuts in and hugs Amara. ‘I’m so sorry, hun, this is terrible. Did he—‘

Amara cuts him off. ‘This guy—Tariq—came to my room pretending it was his, and acted like I was trying to seduce him. I, um…’

Drake smiles sadly, remembering this infuriating yet badass moment. ‘She incapacitated him, like a boss. Tackled him and twisted his arm until he ran away like a pathetic bastard.’

Michael snorts. ‘That’s my girl. Did he hurt you?’

Amara shakes her head. ‘No, he didn’t have time. As you could see in the—‘ she sighs ‘pic...he did grab me, but right after that, he was on the ground.’

Michael takes a deep breath. ‘Shit. Did you report him? This is assault, Amara, you need to—‘

Amara cuts him off. ‘No, I probably should have, but to be honest, I would have been buried by the royal police. Tariq is a noble, and as I’m starting to realize, all security is pretty much corrupt these days…’

Drake’s eyes wander off. She’s right. He had trusted Bastien and the other members of the Royal Guard, but now it was clear that they only saw what they wanted to see. ‘You could still report him to the actual police, right?’

Amara shrugs. ‘Honestly? I probably could, but at this point it would look like I’m trying to bury this. Plus, I can’t shake the feeling that Tariq was actually telling the truth.’

Drake raises an eyebrow. ‘What do you mean?’

She smiles weakly, and takes a seat on the foot of a column. The three men sit on the ground by her, Michael doing so carefully so as not to wrinkle Max’s tux. Amara continues. ‘It’s clear it was a setup, obviously. Like, the camera was ready to shoot the exact moment when it looked like I was consenting. I was set up, there’s no doubt about that.’ She pauses. ‘But maybe Tariq was set up too.’

Maxwell perks up. ‘You mean he was really told this was his room?’

She nods. ‘Yeah. He was so adamant that I was waiting for him in his room, at the time I was just annoyed and threatened by his insistence, but now I wonder why he had to say that. I mean, if he was sent to me to seduce me and get some pictures out of it, no need to serve me the whole room spiel, right?’

Drake nods. ‘Right. You’re right. Plus, I remember that, when I came in, and he was on the ground, he kept insisting on it. Like, would not let it go.’

Amara nods. ‘Exactly. No, this is a whole thing. It was planned all along.’

‘Where is that guy now?’ Michael asks. ‘Can we talk to him?’

Amara shrugs. ‘What for? Everyone thinks I’m a slut, I’m no longer welcome here, it’s pretty clear, huh?’

Maxwell puts his hand on her arm. ‘Not at all. We all want you here, Little Blossom. Hana and Liv stayed behind to gather some info, but they’re both devastated for you, this is outrageous and we’ll get to the bottom of this. We need you, babe.’

She takes Max’s hand and squeezes it. ‘Thanks, Max, but I heard some of the comments from the crowd. I’m being slutshamed for having been almost assaulted. And, I guess, for being in my underwear in my own room.’

‘We need to talk to this guy and figure it out,’ Michael insists. ‘Does anyone have his number? His address? I can go.’

Drake shakes his head. ‘I can give you both of those things, but Tariq disappeared from court after the assault. He was never seen again.’

Michael snorts. ‘Well, if that isn’t irrefutable proof that something’s up…’

‘That’s true,’ Drake agrees. ‘I was just happy to be rid of that asshole at the time, but now I suppose we could use his perspective.’

Amara laughs nervously. ‘Guys, this is useless. Can’t you see that this is a game I can’t win? Someone—no, let me get this right—several people don’t want me here, and they’re making damn sure I’m no longer welcome. It’s clear that over here, justice is not served. So...maybe I should just give the people what they want.’

*****

Hana separates from the group of former contestants and approaches the newly engaged couple. She and Liv agreed to stay behind, since Amara was well tended to, so that they could keep their eyes and ears open. This whole thing was crazy, everyone who was close to Amara knew that those pictures were a setup.

And a cruel one at that. Hana had felt extremely violated when the picture of her with Caroline had surfaced, because it divulged a very private side of her life. However, in this picture, she was fully clothed, and depicted with the person she loved. Nothing scandalous about that, unless you’re a bigot.

Liv’s leak was a lot more personal, since it involved her sex life, and nudity of course, but at least, it was not her naked body that had been circulated to the whole court —although Hana did feel bad for that poor Ilya, whose penis was now known by all of Cordonia.

This time, whoever was leaking pictures —Madeleine probably, even though she couldn’t have been the one who physically projected the picture tonight, as she was dancing— was putting someone in full display. On top of being literal defamation, this whole thing was circulating almost naked pictures of Amara. Hana couldn’t let that pass.

This time, justice would have to be served.

‘Congratulations again, you two!’ She says politely to Liam and Madeleine, with a brief curtsy. ‘I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.’

‘Thank you, dear,’ Madeleine purrs. ‘Now, I do hope to see you on the engagement tour. I will need all the help I can get, and Lord knows you are good at a lot of boring things.’

Liam chuckles, embarrassed. ‘Madeleine,’ he protests, ‘this is a little rude! Hana has many talents, none of them are boring,’ he adds.

Madeleine rolls her eyes. ‘Of course. Force of habit. I’m not used to not being in competition mode. Hana, will you forgive me?’

Hana thinks back to the cup of warm coffee that landed on her lap not too long ago. She forces a smile. ‘No apologies necessary. I’ll be happy to help in any way I can. In the meantime, may I be so forward as to inviting the Prince for a dance? Madeleine, you and I both know that I was never any type of competition.’

Madeleine sighs. ‘By all means.’

Liam holds out his arm for Hana to take. The two glide effortlessly across the dancefloor. Hana is such a good dancer, she doesn’t need to think of her next move, and can concentrate on her much needed conversation with Liam. ‘Liam, what happened?’ She asks, maintaining a perfect smile.

Liam sighs discreetly. ‘I don’t know, but it’s not good, Hana. How is she?’

‘Not sure. The guys are out with her. I’m so glad Michael’s here, in the end, it was a blessing in disguise.’

Liam smiles. ‘I know. I’m glad too. Look, I’m sure you know this as well, but this picture with Tariq… it was a setup. Amara told me about it after it happened, and he tried to assault her.’

Hana nods. ‘I know. Someone was out there waiting to take a picture of them. It’s despicable.’

Liam nods. ‘I think…’ he pauses for a long time, visibly struggling to find his words. ‘I think there are too many coincidences. Right before my Decision, I had been telling my father that I want to give a duchy to Amara, to—‘ he pauses again. ‘You know, as a gesture. An apology. Um…’ he lets go of Hana’s hand, ever so briefly, to run it through his hair. He continues. ‘Father was appalled. He reluctantly agreed to talk about it some more after the Ball. And now, now this is completely soiling her reputation, which is perfect for Father. I hate to say this, Hana, but… I do think he was involved.’

Hana nods. ‘Liam, I’m sorry. You must be so disappointed… At the same time, he’s the King, and your father, you can’t exactly go around accusing him, right?’

Liam nods, a sad smile on his lips. ‘You’re right, I can’t. No one can, really, at least not without proof.’

Hana sighs. ‘So, what do we do?’

Liam shrugs. ‘I don’t think we have many options.’

She nods decidedly. ‘We have to find Tariq, and investigate.’

Liam smiles a bit more earnestly. ‘Exactly. And Hana?’

‘Yes?’

‘I hope I didn’t make a fucking huge mistake,’ he whispers as he looks to Madeleine.

*****

Amara is still sitting on that column, her head buried in her hands. Next to her, Maxwell and Michael are trying to get a hold of Tariq but she feels like it’s in vain. Even if they track him down, and he confesses or whatever, so what? What is it gonna change?

And, even if the picture they projected is a lie, a painful reminder of the time she was almost assaulted, well, the message behind it is true, isn’t it?

She is sleeping with the Prince’s friend. She did fall in love with him, and that night, she did disrobe and say ‘come in’ to Tariq because she thought he was Drake.

Drake’s arms are around her, he’s soothing her gently. She’s so grateful for this man, for his presence, his strength, his compassion… But she’s tired of needing him to comfort her.

Tired of being meek, of being fragile. Now that her old wounds are closing up a bit, now that things are pretty much patched up with Michael, life has to throw another pile of shit at her, and yet again, she needs her friends to run out of the Palace to follow her teary-ass self.

That’s not the person she wants to be. Enough. Not again.

She lifts up her head and looks at Drake. ‘Babe?’ He asks hesitantly.

She smiles at him. ‘Walker, let’s get the fuck out of here.’

*****

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#that's not why i'm going #drake walker x amara suarez #dramara #drake walker x mc #trr fanfic #drake walker #trr drake #drake x mc #drake walker trr #drake x amara #amara suarez #the royal romance fanfic #the royal romance #trr choices #drake trr

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thiswasinevitableid · 5 years

Note

Newlyweds game sternclay?

Prompt: our friend signs us up for a Newly Weds Game even though we’re not dating (bonus if they’re not friends, but know each other well enough to win anyway)

Barclay paces back and forth in the greenroom, as Stern bites his hangnails in worry.

He’s going to kill Ned for this.

“This” being the fact that he and Stern are waiting to participate in an episode of the Newlywed Game. He didn’t even know they still made the Newlywed Game.

The main problem, other than Barclay not enjoying the thought of being on camera, is that he and Stern aren’t newlyweds.

They’re not even dating.

They’re acquaintances. They met at a board game night in a local bar. Barclay came with his friend Duck (the instigator of said night), and Stern was eventually brought by his niece, Aubrey (also Barclays friend), after moving to town.

Stern is nerdy, buttoned-up, a bit aloof, though whenever he sits next to Barclay (something Aubrey keeps engineering) he murmurs sly comments and jokes that always make the bigger man snicker. His dark hair is always slicked back, his clothing immaculate, and his face is downright dazzeling. He works for the FBI, in the UP division, but will never talk about work no matter how much the others press. But he will talk to Barclay about other things, like baking or movies or modern trends neither of them quite grasp.

And then Ned fucking Chicane had to go and sign them up for this show as a joke and things escalated from there, as they so often do with Ned.

“We could go out the window, perhaps. Or fake coronary troubles.” Stern muses.

“Tempting, but at this point we oughta just grin and bear it. Maybe we’ll win something.”

“I appreciate the optimism, Barclay, but we barely know each other. No, I fear, this will be a bit awkward for us and make us look like the worst newlyweds in the universe.”

“Maybe they won’t be able to use it.”

“Why?”

“Dunno, half the time people take photos or videos of me I come out blurry.”

Round One

Barclay sits on stage, the cheerful host about to ask him five questions. Or, rather, they’re going to ask Stern and Barclays answers have to match his.

“Let’s start you out easy: what’s your favorite color?”

Okay, he can do this, what color does Stern usually wear?

Black. Because he’s often in his work suit.

No, hang on, his ties, they’re almost always…

He scribbles down “blue.” Holds up his board.

Stern arches an eyebrow, flips his to reveal, in his neat handwriting, “blue.”

“Alright! Question two: Lucky, how would you describe Barclays cooking? Is it spot on? Or does he need some cooking classes.”

Barclay huffs, write down what’s obviously the correct answer, “spot on.”

Stern flips his around with a smile. It reads the same. Obviously, because Barclay runs a damn catering business.

Question three asks where Stern would travel if he could go anywhere.

Shit, okay, what does Stern like? Where would he go to see that. Oh, he knows.

“To Washington to look for bigfoot? Oddly specific, Barclay, let’s see how you did.”

Stern arches an eyebrow, smiling, reveals his sign says the same.

Question four (“which of his relatives is Lucky least fond of?”) is the first he gets wrong, writing “great aunt” instead of “great uncle.”

“To finish out the round, Lucky, what would you say your husband loves the most about you?”

Barclay finds himself writing without thinking, listing off the thing he likes best about Stern.

“His inquisitive mind. How deep. Lucky?”

Sterns board reads, “my mind,” earning them more points.

As they wait for round two, Stern smiles at him.

“I’d like to try your cooking for myself some day.”

“Think I can manage that.”

A beat of silence.

“I’m flattered to know you agree my mind is my best trait.”

“Your eyes are a close second.”

Stern looks at him befuddled, and Barclay laughs, sheepishly, “uh, sorry, was just, uh, joking.”

Except, he realizes as they take the stage again, he was not.

Round Two

The roles are reversed, the questions directed at Barclay and Stern trying to match his answers.

“First up! The last time you gave Lucky flowers, were they roses, carnations, or something else? Or will he say you’ve never given him flowers?”

Zinnias. He’d bring Stern Zinnias, because they’re bright and proud just like he is.

“Oooh, looks like we have a disagreement folks. He says you’ve never brought him flowers.”

Stern gives him a confused look, and Barclay realizes he was expecting him to give the honest answer, rather than what he would do.

“Next: which one of you most organized.”

Easy.

“Him” Barclay writes.

“Me.”

“That’s more points on the board! What was your first job, Barclay?”

Ugh. He was a gorilla mascot for a car dealership.

“Gorilla mascot. How about that folks!”

Wait, Stern knew that?

“Barclay, what’s the one thing you wish Lucky spent a little less time on to focus on you.”

Barclay thinks about Sterns odd schedule, his devotion to his work, the times he’s gone out of town without notice.

“Work.”

“My work.” Stern looks down when he holds up his board, almost like he’s ashamed.

“Maybe need to take the nose from the grindstone and spend some quality time with your hubby, Lucky! Finally, Barclay, who kissed who first?”

Jesus. Okay, hypothetically, if he were to ask Stern on a date or two, would he make the first move? He usually doesn’t. And Stern seems like he’s confident enough in reading people that he’d go for it.

“He kissed me”

“I kissed him first (he’s shy).”

“Well done! You’re on track for some serious prizes. Right after these messages.”

They’re ahead of the other two couples by a little and have already won a dyson vacuum (Stern calls dibs) and a Le Cruset set (Barclay can’t believe his luck, those things are expensive).

“How’d you know about the gorilla thing?”

“I recall you and Duck comparing worst first jobs and you talked about getting heat stroke in it.”

He takes a sip of water,

“How did you know what killed my last two relationships?”

“Oh shit, really?”

“Yes.” Stern says flatly.

“I, uh, I thought about how you’re such an ambitious, dedicated guy and how weird you’ve said your hours can be. Seemed like that could make dating tricky.”

“You have no idea.”

“I mean, I was a chef for years, which had some weird fucking hours. Besides, you deserve a guy who’ll appreciate you even when you have to work overtime. Or go to New Mexico for the weekend.” He smiles down at Stern, feels something catch in his chest when their eyes meet. Stern looks down, pink dusting his cheeks.

“Zinnias?”

“Seemed like you might like them.” Barclay can’t say why, feels his cheeks burning just at the thought.

“I do. I love bright flowers. I spend so much time in sterile, bland rooms, it makes me appreciate the color in the natural world.”

“I could bring you some from my garden. It’s irises right now, mostly.”

“I’d like that, very much.” He takes Barclays hand and squeezes it in thanks.

Barclay tries to ignore the butterflies bursting loose in his stomach.

Round Three

The lightening round. All Barclay has to do is guess how Stern answered seven either/or questions. He gets through the first four just fine, correctly guessing that Stern prefers chips over candy, books over movies, cold over hot, and morning over evening

“Here’s a bit of a naughty one! Missionary or doggy-style?”

Yeah, this isn’t something they’ve chatted about. Lucky strikes him as someone who likes romance, likes feeling close and wanted and cared for in a way that suggests he prefers things with eye-contact.

“Missionary?”

“Don’t sound too sure there, Barclay, but you’re right!”

Number six is easier (how could it not be) and number seven is only a little harder.

“A fancy night out or a cozy night in?”

He thinks about Lucky, the way he seems to always be around people for work, sighs wistfully whenever Duck talks about a lazy weekend at home, seems excited when he has no obligations.

“Cozy night in.”

“Correct!”

Lucky whoops in delight from off camera and then joins Barclay.

“You’ve racked up the most points, which means you’re the winners!”

The audience cheers and begins making whistling, woo-ing calls.

“They expect us to kiss” Lucky whispers with a grin and it gives Barclay just enough courage to do something risky.

“Hold tight.”

“Excuse meeeeahumph!” He dips Lucky into a kiss, which the shorter man reciprocates, feels him laughing as he does, his whole body lighting up with joy as he deepens the kiss.

“Whoah there, lovebirds, save it for the the second honeymoon! Jim, tell them where they’ll be going…”

——————————-

They just make it back to the car before bursting into hysterical laughter.

“Ned is going to be speechless!”

“That I’d like to see.” Lucky smiles at him from the passenger seat, their prizes safely stowed in the trunk. Well, all but one of them.

“Bit of an odd choice for a second honeymoon, Seattle. I’d assumed they’d pick somewhere with broader appeal, like Hawaii.”

“Hey, you’ll get to look for Bigfoot!” Barclay shoves him playfully on the shoulder.

“Me? I, uh, assumed you would take it. The food scene is supposed to be excellent”

“Nah, you should, you need a vacation.”

Lucky looks at him, thoughtfully.

“Or we could go together, as is the intent.”

“You’d really be okay with that?”

“Yes. I, well, I like you very much Barclay. I think a little trip together could be quite enjoyable.”

“I can go for that. On one condition.”

Stern raises his eyebrows, clearly not sure what’s coming next.

“You gotta let me take you on a few dates before our ‘honeymoon.’”

Stern relaxes with a smile, leans forward and pecks Barclay gently on the lips.

“That sounds magnificent.”

“Cozy night in? With me this Friday?”

“I’d like nothing better.” Lucky settles as close as he can, rests his head on Barclays shoulder

“I’m cooking?” He asks with a smile, already planning what to make. Stern kisses his nose.

“Right again.”

#sternclay #agent stern/barclay #prompt fills #au list prompt

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