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fawnandshadows · 1 year

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How You Get The Girl

Chapter 10

Chapter 9

AO3

Warnings: Sexual content

Azriel blinked.

“Come again?”

“I’d like to,” Elain muttered, her cheeks scorching as she took in his stunned expression. She didn’t even want to think about the fact that in the years she’s known Azriel he had never once looked this surprised. “I’m sorry. It was stupid and I made you uncomfortable. I’ll just go,” Elain quickly scrambled to her feet, eager to leave her embarrassment behind. “I’m so sorry. So—”

“Elain,” Azriel said softly, his hand gently closing around her wrist. “I’m not uncomfortable,” He tugged her back towards him. “I just want to make sure I’m hearing you right.”

Azriel let go of her wrist and placed his large hands on her bare shoulders — her tank top doing absolutely nothing to protect her from his warm skin.

Their eyes met and Elain felt her heart flip in her chest.

“Tell me what you want Elain.” Azriel said in a tight, even voice. His handsome face impressively stoic once again.

“I want,” Elain started, her tongue coming out to wet her lips. She saw Azriel’s eyes dip before meeting hers again. “You to go down on me. Please.”

His grip tightened on her shoulders, his fingers digging into her soft flesh.

“And that’s all you want?” His gaze intensified, and Elain felt the warmth exuding from his hands spread through the rest of her body.

“For now? If that’s ok?” Elain asked, unsure and not wanting to pressure him anymore.

He tipped his face closer to hers.

“Elain,” Azriel said in a strained voice. “Just so you know, what you’re offering me right now is the fantasy of most men in America. Probably in the entire fucking world,” His thumb rubbed along the length of her collar bone. “But they don’t know you,” Azriel muttered, his fingers moving to massage some of the tension from her shoulder. “And with your level of fame it would be hard for anyone to see you as more than just a fantasy.” Elain sucked in a sharp breath.

She nodded, confirming his words.

“You’re different,” Elain said, head flaring in her cheeks. “You treat me differently. In a good way. Like a friend,” Azriels hands gave her shoulders a small squeeze. “But you can say no. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, especially because of your job and we never have to do it again—”

“I’ll do it,” Azriel confirmed, his eyes soft and warm and they took in the relief skittering across her features. “We can start with it this once,” He swallowed. “And see how it goes.”

Elain nodded, her heart beating faster as he slowly backed her towards his room. Their gazes locked on each other, intense and heated, but Elain never looked away. Didn’t shy away from the passion in his eyes and didn’t buckle from the fierce arousal simmering in her core like lava.

He had only touched her shoulders and she already felt more pleasure with Azriel than anything she felt with Graysen.

They walked into the room and Azriel kicked the door shut behind him — Her eyes left his to take in the place he called home.

Her lips turned up as she took in the band posters on the wall and the desk littered with sketch pads, pens, and colored pencils. No laundry scattered on the floor, but neatly put away. It was cozy. A TV sat on a dresser facing his bed, and Elain saw herself wrapped in Azriel’s arms watching their favorite show. A movie. She wasn’t picky.

“I like your room.” Elain said, turning back to him with a smile.

“I’ve started a few designs for your next tattoo,” Azriel said, his voice casual as he nodded to his desk. “Want to see them?”

“Yes, please.” Elain smiled, giddy as they walked the short distance to the desk. The thought of Azriel sitting at this wooden desk and sketching something for her made little butterflies flap their wings deep within her heart.

She had only asked him a few days ago for the tattoo, and he wasted no time in preparing it for her. Some small part of her wanted to say that he prioritized something she asked him to do. Something he refused to take monetary payment for — and Elain knew how much he worked between now and then, so some small part of her rejoiced at his efforts.

He pushed his desk chair off to the side and grabbed his sketchbook before taking her hand pulling her towards his bed.

Elain allowed herself to bounce on the mattress and lean into his side, shucking her shoes off before bringing her feet onto the mattress.

Azriel opened the sketchbook so that it laid on both of their laps, his head tilted close to hers as they bent down to look at the pages — his intoxicating scent lulling her senses and spreading a warm, fuzzy feeling to invade her consciousness.

She watched as his large hand flipped through the pages, the seconds everlasting as they sat together. Maybe it was due to the fact that Elain intentionally slowed her own breathing and tried to take in every detail to cement this moment in her mind for as long as possible.

He turned the pages slowly, as if offering Elain a glimpse into something more, something deeper. She noted how most of his sketches were done in pen, but he used colored pencils if he wanted to color anything in. She noticed that he tended to use thick, bolder strokes that were different from the dainty tattoo that he had inked on her hip.

“My tattoos aren’t your usual style.” Elain noted, daring to glance up at him to see him already looking down at her through black lashes.

“But they’re your style,” Azriel said, tilting his head slightly. “And that’s what matters.” He smiled softly down at her.

Elain contemplated what she wanted to say next, weighing the words on her tongue before saying, “Thank you for noticing,” Her eyes dipped back to the sketches. “What my style is.”

He brought a hand up and moved her golden brown hair to one shoulder, exposing the heated skin on the back of her neck, and using his fingers to ease any lingering tension.

“I love your hands,” Elain said in a soft sigh, letting her head relax and bob to the side. His fingers stilled on neck. She blinked away her cloudy thoughts and looked up at him. “I’ve always thought they were beautiful,” Elain admitted with hesitant vulnerability. “And they create such lovely art, and they feel very…pleasant.”

In a thick voice Azriel said, “Thank you.”

He dropped his hand from her neck and they turned back to the book. He flipped faster, searching for her designs before finally finding his destination towards the back of the pages — Elain wondered if all of these were for commissions, or if he ever drew just for himself.

As soon as he found the page, Azriel twisted the spiral bound book in half so that just the page of heart designs were showing. Her lips involuntarily turned themselves upwards as she thought about intense and intimidating Azriel scribbling hearts on a page for her — would he have the same intensity that he normally wore? That he had when he was sketching on the tour bus?

“I love them all,” Elain said, taking in all the different designs. None of them were wider than an inch, which Elain didn’t want it to be, but he somehow knew that without Elain having to tell him. She peered up at him with her brown eyes. “Do you have a favorite?”

His eyes were intently focused on her face and Elain could see the effort it took for him to move his eyes to the page.

“Honestly, I like this one,” Elain looked down to Azriel pointing a long, elegant finger at the simplest design. It wasn’t colored in like some of the other ones, and the line work was the thinnest of all the designs. It was simple, almost as if Azriel had just decided to draw a heart on a whim without thinking — it was in his handwriting. “It’s not overpowering or flashing, but simple and understanded.”

Elain nodded along, absorbing every word he said.

“I like it…” She trailed off, looking up at him. “Should we look a little closer as to where we should draw it? Or, well, where you should draw it.”

An impish grin formed on Azriel’s lips.

“Should I grab my pen?” Azriel teased and a slow smile took root on Elain’s face as she nodded.

When Azriel got up to get his pen Elain quickly slipped out of her tank top, tossing it to the foot of the bed — and she tried her best to remain as casual as possible in her lace, unlined bra. She was a model, and even though she never did lingerie or bikini shoots, plenty of people had seen more of her when she changed for the runway. She was posing, something she did all the time, but for some reason she was acutely aware of every detail of the way she was sitting.

He turned on his heels and the pen in his grasp nearly fell to the floor.

Hazel eyes latched onto her breasts.

“Do you think I need to take my bra off?” Elain asked in an unintentionally breathy voice.

Azriel tilted his head and said, “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

After a beat Elain reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, slowly dragging the straps off of her shoulder and tossing the scrap of lace at the foot of the bed with her shirt.

Her chest heaving up and down as Azriel devoured her breasts with his eyes.

“Lay down.” Azriel commanded, and Elain instantly dropped back to her elbows, but still strained her neck to look at him as he approached, uncapping his pen.

He stood over her and placed a hand at her collarbone, gently pressing her back into the bed.

It wasn’t the first time his hands were on her, but she still marveled at how large it was. However, his left hand moved from her collarbone and settled underneath her heavy left breast, almost cupping it but not quite. Curving over her rib cage.

“You have freckles here,” Azriel said in a heavy voice. “So, I think we should let those beauties be, but,” He brought his right thumb up to brush the skin underneath her right breast. “On the right you have a blank canvas. What do you think?”

“The right sounds good to me.” Elain urged, shuddering as Azriel drew the heart on her skin — the tip of the pen scrapping over her sensitive skin, electrifying her to the point of gasping. All too soon the pen left her skin.

Elain leaned up again and tried to look at the drawing, but her breast obscured her vision.

“I can’t see it.” She pouted, her brow dipping.

“You’ll be able to see it when you stand up.”

Elain’s pout deepened.

“I know we really aren’t supposed to — for security reasons, but could you take a picture? So I can see? My face doesn’t have to be in it.”

“Elain.” Azriel warned.

“Sorry, it was a bad idea.”

Elain saw something in Azriel crumble because he reached towards his night stand and grabbed his phone.

“Here,” Azriel said, grasping her hands and placing them on her chest. “Just in case, right?” Azriel shook his head and sighed. “This is a bad fucking idea.”

Elain looked to the camera, and Azriel must have liked what he was seeing because he tilted the camera up to capture her face.

After snapping the picture, he tilted the screen towards her.

Elain looked…sexy.

Her golden hair spread out around her as if she had been thoroughly ravished right before the picture was taken, and her hands were inadvertently pushing her breasts up, making them look larger and fuller than they were.

And Azriel made it look incredibly artistic.

“I—” Elain started, cutting herself off as she tried to figure out what to say. “It would be a shame,” She said slowly. “For such a pretty picture to be erased.”

Azriel looked at her intently.

“I can’t send it to you, Elain,” He said gently. “It already shouldn’t exist, but your phone was already stolen once before…” He trailed off and Elain nodded.

“Maybe I like knowing that you’re the only one with the picture.”

A tense silence filled the room and after a moment, Azriel leaned over her, bracing one hand next to her head and using the other to take the phone away from her and tossing it to the foot of his bed. His t-shirt hanging off of his muscular frame.

“You still want to be eaten out?”

Elain gave an impish grin and nodded her head.

Azriel’s eyes darkened until they were almost as dark at Elain’s, and he used his free hand to nudge down her little flannel shorts.

He dipped his head towards her and for a moment Elain thought he was going to kiss her, but he just moved down her body until his face was level with her crotch and he tugged her shorts and panties off.

Elain wiggled her hips to help him.

“Fucking beautiful.” Azriel said, taking in the sight of her aroused sex. And then he opened her with his fingers and ran his tongue along the length of her folds.

Elain bucked her hips in response, her fingers digging into Azriel’s black curls and she panted as his tongue teased her hole. She forced her eyes open and looked down at him, their eyes crashing and locking as Azriel thrusted his tongue into her, causing Elain to cry out in surprise.

He backed off a bit, taking his tongue out and clasping his lips around her swollen clit.

Elain inadvertently pushed his head further into her.

“Please,” She whimpered. “Azriel.”

Azriel’s lips relaxed around her sensitive bud, and he tilted his head to start thrusting his tongue in and out of her — a low growl came from the back of his throat and she tightened around him.

Her eyes started to roll back into her head and her heavy lids drifted down and the tension between her legs started to mount. Her mouth hung open in pleasure.

“Hey, Azriel, do you—”

A surprised scream followed the interrupting words.

Elain jolted up and away from Azriel, trying to curl in on herself.

Azriel quickly shifted to block her from the intruder.

“Mor,” Azriel said between clenched teeth. “Get the fuck out.”

-------

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888artpys · 3 months

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Chris Sturniolo x Photographer

summary: as you clock into work you notice who you’re working for. after being welcomed by the triplets team you notice they’re not around, but as you walk into your room you find chris sturniolo inside.

content warnings : none

the prologue for my :

→ smuttyseries

The Prologue:

The White Oak Music Hall was already buzzing with anticipation for the Sturniolo triplets' show. As the sun began to rise, I found myself double-checking my camera equipment, making sure everything was ready for the day's event. I had picked up this shift on a whim, not entirely sure what to expect, or why the pay was so much higher than the other shows. As I walked in I notice posters everywhere. Wow I’m working for the triplets tonight. I’ve seen them a couple times on my TikTok feed but I wasn’t a fan—just another 19-year-old working a job in my hometown of Houston.

I approach the venue welcomed by the triplets team, but no sign of the boys. I checked the setup quickly in the early morning light and made my way back to my area to get more supplies. I could see my door was slightly opened as I got closer. I feel slight rage since I always have fans “mistake” my room as a restroom when there’s a “DO NOT ENTER” sign above the doorknob.

“Hey!” I called out, stepping into the room “This is a restricted—” My words caught in my throat when I saw who it was. Christopher Sturniolo was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, tears streaming down his face.

He looked up, startled, his bright blue eyes red and puffy. But let out a sigh of relief when he looked down and saw my equipment with my lanyard that wrote “Employee” around my neck.

"Oh my god, let me get out of here, I saw the sign outside the door I just- I’m sorry," as he stuttered and mumbled, trying to wipe away the evidence of his tears I stood there in shock.

"I didn’t mean to intrude. I just needed a quiet place" Chris states.

For a moment, I was frozen, my heart beating rapidly at the sight of him. "Um It's okay," I said softly, closing the door behind me. "Are you alright?"

Chris shook his head, his fluffy brown hair falling into his eyes. "Yeah, I think? I don’t know, not really.

As I hear his voice crack I try to think of something, anything to say, but can’t mouth anything.

“This tour... it's just so overwhelming. Being away from home, it’s harder than I thought."

I moved closer, sitting right in front of him crisscrossing, my heart pounding. He looked at me, his eyes wide with surprise.

As I offered a small smile I managed to finally say something, “I get it. Being on the road can be tough, especially when you're far from home. I mean I’ve never been away from home like this, but I know what it’s like to feel overwhelmed."

Chris sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. "I don’t know why I’m homesick, it’s just the beginning of the tour."

We sat there in silence for a while, the distant sounds of the venue preparations filling the room. I studied his face, noticing the way his eyelashes were still wet, sniffling every couple of seconds and his clear skin slightly flushed from crying. His expression was a mixture of sadness and relief, and it struck me how vulnerable he seemed, so different from the confident persona he projected online.

The intercom above interrupts our silence “Last call for backstage passes and wrist bands, please come pick them up at the box office, Last call, Last call.”

"Thanks," with a slight smile, his voice barely above a whisper. "I guess I just needed someone to talk to."

His smile was genuine, his expression softening as he relaxed in my presence. I realized then was a young man just trying to navigate his way through an overwhelming situation.

As he starts getting up I reach into my pocket and pull out the wristbands and extras he needs to pick up.

“Looking for these?” I say. “Here you can just have mine, I’ll go instead, you can stay in here, I’ll be back in a few.”

As I placed the wristbands and passes on the table next to the door he nodded, offering a faint smile. Looking down at my camera, “What even is your name camera girl?”

“Camera girl?”, I say as I giggle slightly. If that’s what you want to call me.

I turned around hesitantly, wondering if I should say something else, then shrugged with a small grin as I left the room.

As the day progressed, Chris and I kept running into each other. Between his rehearsals and my rounds, we found moments to talk. I learned about his brothers, their lives in Boston, and the pressure of living in the public eye. He listened as I shared bits about my life in Houston, my love for photography, and my dream of becoming a writer.

There was a moment during one of our conversations when he looked at me, really looked at me.

As we sit in front of my vanity fixing up our hair in our own worlds Chris takes out his airpods and glances at me. This catches my attention, so I take both airpods out my ear waiting for him to say something.

“You kind of have hair like my mom, it’s pretty, well also I mean you’re really pretty.”

His blue eyes held mine, and I felt an undeniable connection.

I paused and felt my face get bright red.

“Thank you, you’re pretty too, I like your eyes.”

Just before the show, Chris found me again. "Hey, I’ve been thinking," he said, his eyes bright with a new idea. "Would you like to join us on tour? We could use a designated photographer, and it would be great to have a friend around."

My heart skipped a beat. "Really? Are you sure?"

He nodded, smiling warmly. "Yeah. We need someone who can capture the real moments, not just the staged ones. And besides, it would be nice to have you with us."

I smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through me. "I’d love to."

As the Sturniolos took the stage that night, I was there, camera in hand, capturing every moment. The cheers of the fans, the energy of the triplets, and the connection we had formed—it all felt like a new beginning.

For Chris and me, that day in Houston was the start of something special. And as we hit the road together, we knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, we’d face them together, one photo at a time.

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolotriplets #fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #christophersturniolofanfic

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the-pessimists-paradigm · 5 months

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Into the Abyss

Chapter Two

(TW: depictions of drug use, addiction, substance abuse. Reader discretion is advised.)

When I was little, I sought out friends who were different from me, in almost every way. When I was shy, my friends were bold, when I kept my mouth shut, my friends shouted. You get my message. It’s been a while since I’ve seen these people, but memories linger. I even used to be friends with Theresa May, but before my dog, Emma, died. And in 10th grade, I met a cool girl.

The sun was shining as I exited my car. For that day, I wore a gray tank top from my vacation to Hawaii, with a purple hibiscus. A windy breeze frolicked throughout the air as I saw the pretty and cynical new girl. Her hair was down, dark brown, and wavy. She had a t-shirt of a skull a pink bow and a crown, with black. Oh my god, she was so pretty that day. Bejeweled flared jeans with two studded belts, and combat boots. I twirled my hair while complimenting her bag, she said my shirt was cute, and told me her name was Aurora. She never seemed to care about much in life, and I learned my ways from her all the times we hung out.

My childhood could only be described as a mess, hot off the pans of misery. My dad and my miniature dachshund died when I was 8, which made me lose hope in the world because it felt like everything and everyone was dying. Especially those you care about. However, in that first time of grief, Aurora became my saving grace.

She wrote her address down in my school notebook, 98682, Stone St. Black glitter pen in a beautiful manuscript. I still remember how it felt to walk up her wooden stairs after school, leaving my bag on the floor. Her bedroom was an escape for her, hiding her darkest secrets. It showed every side of her, animal print bedsheets, band posters, magenta fairy lights.

We could chat for hours at a time about anything and nothing in particular. Day by day, as I got glimpses into her home life the more intrigued I became. Like examining the stitches in designer clothing. All the tiny rhinestones and embroidery. Little edges that amplify the price. How she could be effortlessly careless, but still be sweet. How she was bold in times of distress, hiding her love under a fiery smirk.

She was always free-spirited, sneaking out to concerts and parties. Until that excitement was blown out like a candle, a story for another time. But one day, she showed me her stash. We were in her bedroom when she pulled out a book, from her shelf. Her thin fingers opened it, revealing a box cut out of it. I didn’t see it at first in the hole, but then I did. A small baggie of cocaine, barely anything left.

No wonder she was so hyper all the time, bouncing off the walls, and tapping my leg when she was bored. But she was never truly bored, just experiencing withdrawals. I wanted to ask her why, why she did it. I knew it could get her in trouble. However, I underestimated just how much. My hand touched her shoulder without warning, telling her things I couldn’t utter myself. Reassuring her it would all be okay.

She made me promise to never tell anyone, pinkies interlaced as her bracelet touched my wrist, trembling as tears fell from her striking blue eyes. I smiled and said the magic word, “Yes. I promise I won’t.” A week later, she was very irritable but wouldn’t admit why.

I rubbed her back as she sobbed in gibberish. But instead of concern, I felt curiosity about the drug, because why should I care about my existence if it will fade away too? We partook in a science experiment, where she made her supply, letting me sample some. And that’s where I learned how to make the same thing I got thrown into rehab for (years later), in the school’s science lab.

-> Previous Chapter

-> Next Chapter

#original story

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amirandaarts246-01 · 8 months

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ARTS246 - Ch. 1 - Evol. of Typography

Before reading the chapter, I already had an understanding of typography, but never knew it went back so far in time. i.e., 3150 BCE.

Looking at all the different types of typography or “moveable type” in the past, it’s really insane but interesting how it went from stones in patterns and hieroglyphic writings to what it is today.

One of my favorite parts of this chapter was learning about the early gothic lettering in the eleventh-twelfth century. I’ve always been fond of the architecture and designs they have.

Scrolling through the pages before I started reading, just made me think of how far typography has come in society and in life in general.

I love typography, as a design and as an overall whole. I love that it can just be a font or typeface, but also designs; using it to create a bigger picture.

CLASS:

I’m excited for this project, nervous but excited. I’ve created posters in the past, but never a festival concert. I was really excited to create it, then I saw we had to use our own photos. In my mind, I’m screwed. I really wanted to do an indie, gothic punk poster, but the background is what i’m scared about. I love all genres (except country, sorry…), but I love bands like Ghost and Cage The Elephant, more indie and alternative like I said before. I think for the background I’m going to paint a canvas black and splash paint all over it, like spray paint. But I just don’t really know if I’m “artistic enough” to execute it. I don't use paint or stuff like that, I'm more digital than anything. I’ll probably talk to you [Valdes], after class Monday, just because I want to make sure I’m not in too deep.

Okay, thanks! bye! :)

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greensparty · 2 years

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Talking with Ondi Timoner

When I read the news about the Oscar Shortlist of Best Documentary Features it made me quite happy to see one particular documentarian on the list, which is made up of 15 documentaries released in 2022 that will be whittled down to 5 nominees when the Academy Award nominations are announced on January 24. It was a really strong year for docs and I was glad to see Hallelujah: Leonard Cohen, a Journey, a Song and the David Bowie doc Moonage Daydream make the list, but I was elated to see Last Flight Home from director Ondi Timoner. She is one of the great documentary filmmakers of our time. Hands down! I was so blown away by her 2004 years-in-the-making doc Dig! about the friendship and rivalry between indie rock bands The Dandy Warhols and Brian Jonestown Massacre after I saw it in the movie theater that I actually reached out to her via her website and she got back to me. I sent her my short film Musician For Hire, which had some similar themes as Dig!, and she gave me some great feedback and we later met up at the Dig! DVD Party in NYC. We have met a few times since and stayed in touch. Since Dig! she has made several fascinating docs such as Join Us about escapees from a cult and We Live in Public about an early dot-com pioneer. Now she has made her most deeply personal film yet.

In early 2021, following some hospitalizations Ondi’s father Eli (the founder of Air Florida), made a decision to end his life under California’s End of Life Option Act. Leading up to Eli’s final days, Ondi documented her family’s time with him in his home. Ondi’s mother Elissa and her siblings Rachel and David bond with their father in his final weeks and the doc looks at his extraordinary life. It is shot cinema verite style. For me, I definitely got choked up more than a few times while watching it. The documentary premiered at the 2022 Sundance Film Festival and has played multiple festivals before MTV Documentary Films released it in Fall 2022. I recently caught up with Ondi via Zoom.

movie poster (with young Ondi in the blue jacket)

OT: What’d you think of the film?

Me: It was amazing. It hit really close to home for me, obviously this is the story of your family and father, but there were many things that hit close to home for me and I got choked up many times throughout the film. But I have nothing but respect for you in telling the story in the way that you did. Not just saying this, but sometimes you see films that just go beyond being a film or a documentary and are more of a life experience, and this is very much one of them.

OT: Yeah, I feel like it’s more of a spiritual experience from the way people react to it. It affects people so deeply. I had no idea that sharing something so personal would be so affecting. But it’s obviously a beautiful thing. I worried at the premiere what the result would be of putting my family on display in their most vulnerable moments. But the result is it tends to really heal people in a lot of ways. Even if they cry, a lot of people call them tears of joy, that there is a catharsis that occurs that is different than watching a normal film. I’ve just never had feedback for anything in my life for anything I’ve ever made. I don’t know if I ever will again. It’s kind of its own experience really.

Me: Prior to the beginning of 2021 when this documentary begins, did you sit down with your family and discuss making a documentary about this? Or were you filming for the family and then much later thought it would make a good documentary?

OT: I was filming this for the family, that’s exactly right. I was filming it for myself, because when Dad said he wanted to die, that came as complete shock to all of us because he had been such a tenacious and positive person his whole life, despite the stroke. He always rooted for all of us, he never complained. But the idea of it, I mean of course everyone dies, but we never expected for him to elect for that. We didn’t even know there was a law for that, he was just electing for that because he realized he was going to have to go to a facility. That was where he relied on quality of life, because everything he loved was in his house with my Mom and being around the family. That is what kept him going. So when he made that call and decided that he needed to die, I panicked and decided I needed to film. As you can tell in the film I started recording audio right away. I went to see a therapist because I was so concerned that I was trying to mediate the experience or that I was trying to distance myself or that I’d be hurting my family. I thought this must be a terrible idea, but I just felt such an impulse to film. And I had no intention, Eric, of ever making a film. I was always going to make a scripted film about Dad. When you look at the footage or maybe you remember, you see papers on the bed - that’s the script I had written about Dad and that I’ve been working on for years. Because the only archival footage I have of Dad and the airline is about fifteen minutes worth of footage. So people my whole career that told me “wow, your Dad has such an extraordinary story” and it was always my dream to tell his story, but I always believed I’d tell it with a scripted film. So anyways, the therapist, I told “I feel like I have to set up cameras and film my Dad’s final days” and she said “if you feel like you should film, you should film”. So I called my Dad and he said “I instinctively know you’re on the right track”. I didn’t even know what track I was on, but I was on a track that he knew more than I did. He never had us turn the cameras off. I honestly felt like the presence of cameras felt like a relief to me. It allowed me to focus on his care and it allowed me to know that I wouldn’t forget him. That I wouldn’t forget his voice and his personality. It was like a safety blanket or something. More than anything it made pure presence possible. As opposed to taking presence away. I don’t think that would’ve been the case if I knew I was making a film probably. But I also set up that nest camera - you saw that’s a surveillance camera in the scene when Gigi (his granddaughter) comes. I set that up because I didn’t want to focus on the filmmaking process or the process of documenting. I just wanted it to be seamless and visible as possible. So what I did was I set up cameras all around and what I did was I would move them or operated them when other people were with Dad, otherwise I would just turn them on and be with Dad and take care of him. Those were the most beautiful days of my life in a lot of ways. I felt like that was just an absolutely sacred space in that room. I know that Dad was really so happy and at peace to know that we were supporting his decision. That set the tone for the room. He was kind, he was funny with everyone who walked in the room. I didn’t realize that until I started watching the footage when my sister asked me to make a memorial video after Dad died.

Me: It’s such a beautiful thing that you have all this footage of grandkids, friends of the family, everyone with your Dad.

OT: You know, when my sister asked me to make this memorial video it was only about two weeks after Dad died. I could not believe the footage. I was blown away. She just said “you have footage of Dad, don’t you? Can you just cut five minutes of footage?” and five weeks later we had a thirty-two minute memorial video. I didn’t even leave the room. Dad was alive inside the Avid and I could laugh and cry with him. And I started noticing all of these incredible arcs. I kind of went from daughter to filmmaker in those weeks. I just went - oh my God! There is so much here of all of this incredible transformational material. I knew as we went through it that it was deeply profound, but I didn’t know until I watched the footage that every single person in that room had changed. I so busy as his daughter, trying to host people and make sure these zooms happened. More than anything, I tried to get Dad to realize that he gave us everything because he thought he was a failure and gave us nothing. So I had different goals and trying to get my Mom to face it. I was just caught up in the family. But as a filmmaker I could watch all I wanted in the Avid and I couldn’t stop cutting. After the memorial a lot of the people on the zoom memorial felt like their feelings about death had changed. So I realized this footage was really valuable to people and I realized this is something we all go through. And so I just kept editing after that. And of course my Dad’s arc in realizing he had measured his life wrong and thought that success was based on money and stature. He thought he was a failure and in fact he was a massive success because he had gained all of our love and devotion. He had everyone’s love he had ever touched in his life. That was what really put it over the top for me to share this footage. For me, for you, for all of the people out there to feel like they have shortcomings, this is an invitation to let go.

Ondi Timoner

Me: I have nothing but respect and admiration for you in being able to compartmentalize and say “I’m going to be here for my father and my family” but then put on your filmmaker hat and be setting up the camera and the microphone at the same time. On that note, you mentioned the scripted film of your Dad, prior to his final years, had you thought about doing a film about your father’s life?

OT: I started writing it eight years ago. I wrote the first draft. But I told a producer who reminded me recently that when I won at Sundance for Dig! in 2004, a producer asked, then, what I wanted to do and I said I wanted to make a scripted film about my father. I sort of pitched them the story then. But it wasn’t until I cracked my foot and I was off my feet for a month. In that month I would call Dad everyday and I’d just talk to him and interview him basically and just go through newspaper articles and everything and I put the first draft of the script together then, which I still dream to make. I would love to do it. The whole experience of sharing this emotional film and audiences telling me a lot about their own experiences has influenced the script for me. I need to do another rewrite on it, but it’d definitely my dream project.

Me: Looking at your filmography, I feel like the through line in all your films is these extremely multi-layered intriguing subjects, i.e. Anton Newcombe, Josh Harris, Russell Brand, Robert Mapplethorpe - whether you like them or not, you’re just fully engaged with what they’re doing. Is that your priority when you’re deciding a film project to take on?

OT: What I care about is telling the story of people I care about who do what they do against all odds, who change the rules along the way. Most of my characters are extremely flawed as you know and I don’t shy away from those flaws. My father is by far the least flawed of all of them of what I call the Impossible Visionaries. But he is also, in fact, he’s my Original Impossible Visionary. He takes on the impossible and he’s not going to take no for an answer. That’s what he did, that’s how he built the airline, that’s how it became the fastest growing airline in the world, that’s how he stayed positive against all odds through his life and kept creating and creating happiness around him and joy for all of us. And being there for us. And to recover from the stroke as much as he did with such positivity. I really hope to make the scripted film because that really brings the 1970s and 1980s part of his life alive. It was a crazy time in aviation and Dad put deregulation through congress and he worked hard to make the skies open to all people no matter how much money you had or how old you were. He had senior citizens and students flying for eighteen dollars. They were called Pleasure Fares and he would offer students a massive discount to fly around. Things like that. My whole life, he’s inspired me to be who I am.

Me: Some of my favorite filmmakers are the ones who dabble in both narrative and documentary. You did the narrative film Mapplethorpe. In addition to your father’s scripted film, do you have plans for more narrative storytelling?

OT: No plans beyond this one, but I’m open. You never know what happens in this world. With Mapplethorpe, it was invited to premiere at Sundance and that was the Director’s Cut. It was on Hulu and now I have to figure out what happened to it, because that’s the complete version, that’s the script that I wrote.

Me: The timing of this interview is incredible because it was just announced that your new documentary The New Americans: Gaming a Revolution is premiering at South By Southwest in March. Congrats and not to jinx anything, but best of luck during awards season with Last Flight Home as well.

OT: Thank you! Well, my Dad is definitely my favorite leading man of all. He’s quite an inspiring character and his wisdom is captured in that footage. I think that’s his gift to me and now it’s his gift to the world.

me with Ondi at the Dig! DVD Release Party in NYC on 4/11/2005

For info on Last Flight Home: https://www.interloperfilms.com/lastflighthome

For info on Ondi Timoner: https://www.interloperfilms.com/about-ondi

#ondi timoner #last flight home #interview #documentary #filmmaking #eli timoner #dig!#join us #we live in public #brand: a second coming #mapplethorpe #the new americans: gaming a revolution #film geek

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lovely--lover · 2 years

Text

They are so pretty NSFW Louis Ives

Summary: Louis is interested in your panties. So you let him wear yours and some things happen...

Contains: blowjob, crossdressing(?), crying during sex a little, slight dom reader(?), slight dirty talk, teasing, and sex (F reader)

Word count: 2k

I’ve never written NSFW content before so I’m not sure how to do the warnings let me know if I missed anything! And let me know what you think. I would definitely love feedback on your thoughts and how to improve my spicy skills 😏

Louis was a man you met in the city, his quiet charm capturing you, always a perfect gentleman. Opening doors, asking about your day, holding his arm out as you crossed the street, and showering you in compliments. Louis had a talent for noticing small details, when you wore a new shade of lipstick or painted your nails a new color, he always noticed. Always making you feel special and all you wanted was to make Louis feel special too. So…

After a few dates, you invited Louis to your home, intending to impress him with a homecooked meal. Although it wasn't quite going to plan as the water boiled over and you were dropping stuff on the ground all while Louis watched with a small smile. His gaze made you nervous, there is no way he would be impressed watching, an idea popped into your head. “Hey, Louis! why don’t you look around while I cook!” He was surprised by the offer and lingered around the kitchen a few moments before accepting.

Louis wondered about your small apartment, it smelt nice, and he appreciated the feminine touch of your home. It was much different from his own cluttered and messy apartment. Admiring the few plants spread around the living room allowing his hand to enjoy the soft blanket draped over the couch. Wandering further, smiling as he entered your room. Looking around, wanting to learn more about you; floral bedsheets, band posters, plushies, and….underwear. A pair of white lacy panties laying in the middle of the floor.

Louis knew he shouldn't, he really shouldn't, it had gotten him in trouble before. But his body was doing the opposite of his thoughts. The garment already in his hand the silky material soft material under his fingertips. Louis held them against his body admiring himself in the full-length mirror, heart racing at the thought of wearing them. How would they feel? How would they look? They were pretty and he wanted to be pretty like the panties…..like you.

Dinner was complete! You set the table making sure everything was perfect; fancy plates, glasses already filled with wine, and a fresh bundle of flowers as the centerpiece. With a final glance, you smiled at how perfect it was, and went to find Louis. Walking through the home you peered around corners until you saw Louis in your room. Before you could fully enter your eyes met his in the reflection of the mirror. Your underwear was pressed against his crotch until he dropped them before turning to face you “Y/N I-” his face was red and the front of his pants were bulging. “Louis…what are you doing?”

It was quiet as you and Louis sat across from each other attempting to enjoy dinner. The air was thick and heavy as tension-filled every inch of the room before Louis broke it. “Thank you Y/N it's quite delicious” his voice was shaky as he glanced up at you for a moment. Gauging your reaction. “Thank you, Louis…..you look delicious.” The sound of his fork dropping to the table caught your attention. You used it as an excuse to stare at him, allowing your eyes to look him over, shamelessly.

Louis sat across from you in nothing but a lacy red set of panties and bralette that you hand-selected from your personal collection. The red contrasted beautifully against his pale skin. The lace allowing his nipples to be exposed to your gaze, they were hard, pushing against the fabric. Your eyes trailed lower and your mouth began to water at the sight. The tip of his cock was peeking out the top of the lacy garment, leaking onto the exposed flesh of his lower stomach. You took it all in again as you looked him back up and into his eyes

Louis felt hot and exposed to your intense gaze as you stared at him hungrily. The lace of the panties was soft and smooth, it felt nice against his hard cock, making him harder. Becoming overcome with desire by the second. He was already overwhelmed. He expected you to scream and force him out of your home. But you let him stay and even after admitting his desires, you wanted him, you accepted him. Your words went straight to his heart causing it to beat faster, “You look delicious” it made his cock throb. The words left his lips before he could think “Then taste me”

You were out of your seat in an instant before settling in Louis's lap. Your lips capturing his, they were soft, despite the force and desperation. Savoring the taste of cheap wine on Louis's tongue as yours entered his mouth exploring every inch. Louis’s met yours. Tongues melding together wanting to taste as much of each other as possible, it was more important than breathing. When you finally pulled away a string of saliva glistened one last connection between your lips and Louis’s.

Louis marveled at you. The way your hair messed up, the sudden plumpness of your lips, and the way your chest moved while gasping in air. You were truly beautiful, he could never compare, but you were his and that was enough. Louis wondered if you could understand his thoughts when you spoke next.

“Wow, this is without makeup or hair” you caressed his face admiring the soft features “If you had it you'd be stunning… prettier than me “ a small laugh escaped your lips. Louis's cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink as he dropped his head to avoid your gaze “No, I could never be as pretty as you”

You placed a finger under his chin gently lifting his head making his eyes meet yours. “You're beautiful Louis” eyes scanning over his body as your hands followed. His flesh was soft, warm, and damp with sweat. “So beautiful…..I want you”

A whimper left his lips as you captured them in yours, once again. Slipping your fingers through the softness of his hair. Tightening the hold as you reached the nape of his neck, tugging back to expose the flesh of his throat. Kissing over his pulse, before sucking the flesh into your mouth, intending to leave marks that would live on for days. Pulling back you admired the reddened skin.

The taste of Louis's lips was sweet but you wanted more and you could no longer ignore the lace-clad bulge pressing against your own lace panties. Thankful for the dress you threw on last minute. “I’m gonna taste you now okay, Louis” as you began kissing and licking your way down his body until your knees met the floor in front of him.

His cock looked so pretty outlined in red. The lace providing a glimpse of his flesh. Your lips parted almost involuntarily desperate to taste him. Leaning forwards you pressed your tongue over his lace-covered dick as you licked him over through the fabric. It was rough against your tongue but tasted like him, you wanted more.

Pulling back you took the band of the underwear in your hands, tugging on it experimentally, before releasing it. Causing it to snap back against his flesh. The action made his thighs shake and a gasp leave his lips. You began to pull down the fabric, Louis lifting his hips so you could remove them. “No, I want you to keep them on they're so pretty….just like you” his face flushed red hands coming up and covering it out of embarrassment. “Louis…look at me” He spread his fingers peeking out from his hand's eyes never leaving you.

You continued lowering the fabric just enough to release his cock. Starting at the base you licked to the tip. Swirling your tongue, wanting to gather every drop of arousal leaking out, salty and warm on your tongue. Placing a gentle kiss against his tip after tasting every drop. Allowing your lips to move down leaving a trail of kisses. You pulled the lace panties down slightly more so his balls could hang free, exposing them, gently sucking them into your mouth.

A drawn-out cry caught your attention Louis was staring down at you with glossy eyes. His mouth open and lips quivering. The words were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't speak. You released his balls with a pop, resting your head on his thigh. Stroking him, as you gazed up, “Louis sweetie what is it? What's wrong?”

Louis's voice was breathless and desperate “Please stop teasing me Y/N” A pout adorned his lips as he silently begged you with pleading eyes. He whimpered once more as you released him from your grasp and stood, now towering over him.

You reached out both hands using them to caress Louis's face using your thumbs to rub the softness of his cheeks. His eyes closing as he leaned into the touch savoring the gentle affection “What would my pretty girl like me to do instead?” A moan immediately fell from his lips and Louis realized there was no going back, there was no shame.

“Please fuck me” It came out as a cry and Louis might have been crying, but he wasn't sure. But tears definitely fell as you sat down slowly encompassing his cock in your warmth. Starting off slow as you gently rocked against him, resting your head on his shoulder. Louis couldn't help but turn his head to place a kiss on your cheek.

You dropped all the way down, his length filling you, pressing against places that had never been reached before. Every time you rocked your hips he pressed a spongy spot inside that made you shiver. You needed more. Slowly you began bouncing on his cock finding the perfect pace. Speeding up until Louis was a moaning mess beneath you tears streaming from his eyes igniting your insides even more. “Aww your crying sweetie, does my pretty girl love being fucked that much?” Louis only whimpered in response.

Leaning forwards you stuck your tongue out running across Louis's cheeks capturing his tears, they were salty and pushed you closer to the edge. Louis was pushing you closer to the edge his smell, his taste, his feel. It was Louis, everywhere.

“Does my pretty girl like to be fucked?” Louis was a moaning crying mess but he was still able to form words crying out. “Yes yes yes I do. Fuck me harder…please” He asked so sweetly, how could you deny him?

You wrapped your arms around his neck holding him close as you began bouncing harder. The gasp of air wasn't enough you were light heated, hot, tingly all over but you couldn't stop. You were so close and so was Louis. “I’m so close Y/N so close…. it's so good”

“Cum for me Louis please I wanna so how pretty you are when you come” your words were just what Louis needed to fall off the edge. White clouded his vision as he came a stream of moans leaving his lips “Thank you, thank you, thank you”

Louis's face scrunching up and mouth falling open filling your ears with moans was the last push you needed. Back arching as you scratched at whatever flesh was under your hands. After you came your body dropped down resting against Louis.

Louis was impressed with you further he never thought he would find someone who would accept him but you did without a second thought. He pulled the blanket tighter around your bodies “I like this blanket, it’s soft” a giggle left your lips.

“Yeah, I got it from the department store on East St……that's also where I got the panties.” Louis made a mental note to visit the store sometime but you had other plans. “Maybe we can go together sometime so you can pick out what you want, pretend you're buying them for me?”

Louis's heart fluttered. You would do that for him?! He cuddled closer to you closing his eyes preparing to sleep. Wanting to sleep in your arms “I would like that a lot Y/N, thank you”

Masterlist

Thank you everyone for being patient hopefully it was worth the wait 🤭

#louis ives x reader #louis ives imagine #louis ives #the extra man #paul dano #paul dano character #paul dano imagine #paul dano x reader #my writing

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tryskomys · 2 years

Text

˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙ Abracadabra - part I ˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙

Eddie Munson one-shot

Summary: Before the jarring events of March 1986 hit The Hellfire Club, a more traditional evil disturbed their nerdy peace roughly a month prior - The Prom. Maia gets an unexpected invitation and gladly accepts, but Eddie is…well, Eddie about it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

Notes: weehoo, another one-shot in the Psycho Killer universe! i mean, i planned it as a one-shot but it turned out to be too complex, so i’ll be splitting it into three parts! i’ve had this one up my sleeve for some time now, but i was a bit cautious because i’m very much european and don’t have knowledge about how proms work in america, but i’ve recently read a prom fanfic from @ambrossart (go read it asap!!) and it boosted me into giving it a shot, so here it is!

beware: high school (yes, that’s a trigger warning), very angsty, eddie is an asshole - what’s new?

Masterlist

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

WOODLAND FAIRYTALE - PROM OF 86’

Valentine’s Day at the gym hall

You can’t miss this charming sight,

dancing on a Friday night!

The threatening sparkling green-and-purple posters planted on the walls of Hawkins High hallways were greeting Maia at every step as she made her way to her locker. She spotted Mike and Dustin standing in front of one of the monstrosities, chatting. She smiled and threw her books in, closed the locker and approached them, putting her arms around their shoulders. They jumped in surprise.

“Christ, you can’t keep sneaking up on us like that, you’ll give me a heart attack one day.” Dustin put his hand on his chest dramatically, but both of the boys grinned widely, happy to see their friend.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were too preoccupied to see me coming. You plan on going?” she ruffled their hair, pointing at the colorful poster. Mike shrugged.

“I’m not sure, you know that my girlfriend is not here…” he mumbled, clearly deeply upset about the fact. Maia’s smile fell a bit as she nodded sympathetically, stroking his back. Dustin sighed.

“Same here. Unless Suzie’s teleporting here from Utah over the next two days, I don’t have a date.”

“Come on boys, it’s a once in a lifetime thing, you don’t have to come with a girl. You can’t miss that charming sight!” she cringed while pointing at the poster’s slogan, making the boys chuckle. Mike shook his head.

“If we go without a date, the whole fucking school will take us for- “

“Losers? Hate to break it to you boys, but…” she tilted her head and shrugged, eyeing them up and down and stopping at their Hellfire t-shirts.

“Touché…” Dustin mumbled and nodded his head, realizing that there isn’t much damage left to be done. Mike raised his eyebrows.

“Well, are you going?” he questioned and Maia’s eyes widened for a second before she composed back to her usual deadpan calmness.

“Nah, I don’t have a date…” she blurted out before realizing the hypocrisy of the situation and the boys exchanged an amused look. She violently shook her head to shut them up before they could say anything.

“That’s different.”

“No, it isn’t.” Dustin raised his eyebrows, flashing Maia his signature toothless smile.

“Why don’t you ask Eddie? We’re not in the 60’s, it’s not like a girl can’t ask a guy out.” Mike chimed in, nodding enthusiastically. Maia rolled her eyes and let out a sarcastic chuckle.

“Eddie going to prom? Did you fall on the head on your way to school?” she squinted at him, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead, gasping theatrically.

“I feel like you should go lay down, Wheeler. I think you have a fever.”

“Well, you haven’t asked him yet, so you can never know!”

Maia sighed and her face started growing red when she imagined Eddie all elegant in a tuxedo, the image so strange and alien to her that she had to physically shake her head to anchor herself back in reality.

“Hey, I get that you two entered high school with girlfriends and suddenly gained a feeling that you’re fucking geniuses of relationships or whatever. But I’ve already lived through two senior years of Edward Munson and the mere mention of prom made him gag and go on a rant full of his classic noncomformist shit both times. So don’t try to smart-mouth me.”

“Third time’s the charm?” Dustin shrugged and winced in advance, knowing that she’ll immediately give him a disarming scowl. She didn’t dissapoint and threw in a firm slap on the back of his head as well. Mike chewed on his cheeks to hide a smirk and then gasped, a lightbulb switching on in his head.

“Let’s go as friends then! The three of us! We’ll just hang around, eat some chips, listen to the music…maybe we can…you know…” his cheeks grew more and more red as he stumbled over his words, trying to articulate.

“…dance!” Dustin finished his friend’s sentence, blushing as well at the thought of the two self-proclaimed losers bringing a senior to the prom. Maia’s skeptical gaze softened and her smirk grew into a wide toothy grin.

“Am I dreaming or are my padawans asking me to prom?” she giggled, raising an eyebrow. Mike and Dustin exchanged a nervous look, meekly nodding.

“I mean, you don’t have to, it’s just an idea.” Mike shrugged, staring into the floor. He was shushed by a tight hug as Maia threw her arms around the two boys, squeezing them so hard they both let out a squeal.

“You’re so charmiiiiing, how could I say no to such gentlemen.” she smiled widely and pinched their blushing cheeks, making them grin as well.

“Okay then, I’ll go. But you gotta dress appropriately, yeah? I don’t wanna see any jeans or t-shirts.” she raised a threatening finger and put on her best motherly voice, walking next to them to the cafeteria.

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・

While the rest of the club was chatting and drowning in noise of the packed cafeteria, Eddie was lost in his thoughts, mindlessly chomping on the graham crackers that were on his food tray. Another prom, another opportunity to chicken out of asking her out. He hated the prom season and the reason that he gave everyone - it’s a pretentious priviledged shitshow - was just an excuse he was hiding behind.

In reality, it just reminded him of not only being a miserable loser, but also of being a coward. It’s just a sentence. Hell, it can be two words.

Hey, prom?

But no, he couldn’t bear the thought of Maia’s amused face when he’d try to ask her. He couldn’t bear the all the sarcasm. It wasn’t worth it. Did he try it? No, he had two opportunities, but he didn’t. And now the whole school was buzzing with the excitement again and he wasn’t going to risk it. Again.

“What’s up, boys?”

Maia’s voice made him softly gasp and flinch as he jumped out of his deep thoughts, which earned a chuckle from her.

“Guilty conscience, Munson?” she raised her eyebrow as she sat down next to him, Dustin and Mike filling the other empty seats at the Hellfire table. He just stared at her for a few seconds and gulped before scoffing and turning his attention back to the graham crackers.

“You won’t believe me, Anderson…but Sarah is going to prom with me.” Gareth exclaimed with a smug face and Maia’s jaw dropped.

“Sarah Grayson?”

“Yup.”

“Woah, what a fucking heartbreaker! Way to go, pal.” she giggled and gave him a fistbump, but Jeff snorted with laughter.

“Yeah, but you haven’t heard what followed her yes.” he shrugged and took a swig of his chocolate milk. Gareth rolled his eyes.

“Okay, she said that she’ll come only if I pay for it, but that doesn’t undermine my success.”

“I’m proud of you, don’t listen to the haters. In fact, if you’re so snarky, Jeff…an essential question rises - who’s your date?” she squinted at her amused friend, who just shrugged.

“I’m going with Pete. I’m non-traditional, what can I say.”

“We’re just stopping by to eat as much as we can for free, then we dip to get shitfaced somewhere else.” Pete scoffed and got back to picking the corn out of his risotto, not wanting to have anything to do with this conversation.

“You coming, Anderson?” Gareth mumbled as he wiped his chocolate moustache. Maia smiled widely and cracked her knuckles.

“Actually, I am! I have a date, too.” she said nonchalantly and all the boys looked at her with shocked expressions. Dustin and Mike grinned while stuffing their mouths with bread, their chests proudly puffed out.

Eddie’s head snapped in her direction, she caught his gaze for a second and if she didn’t know better, she could’ve sworn she saw a glint of dissapointment in his eyes. She coughed and looked back to her food, waiting for the questions to start bombarding her. She was showered with a wave of whats and whos and she just grinned, giving the two freshmen a mischievous side-eye.

“Well, since you ask…I have not one, but two handsome escorts accompanying me.” she stated without much emotion, waiting for them to put the pieces together. The guys frowned for a second and then it hit them.

The gasping and squealing actually reminded her of a scene she saw in the hallway earlier, when a pack of cheerleaders gathered around their friend after she told them that Patrick from the Tigers asked her out. She giggled as Pete slapped Dustin’s back so hard he made the boy spill a bit of the milk he was holding.

“Holy shit, you’ve been in high school for one semester and you scored a senior as a prom date? Teach me your secrets!” Gareth gasped and shook his head. Jeff beckoned to them with his drink.

“My compliments, I never thought I’d see the day when the cold Lady Macbeth agrees to a date.” he chuckled and took a sip, the youngsters giggling excitedly. As they were chatting, Maia stole a look at Eddie, who was silently chewing on his lunch with an unreadable expression, eyes set on the table.

Is he angry? She wanted to say something, maybe reach out to him, but that idea flew out of her head when he caught her staring, her face immediately filling with a burning blush as she got back to eating.

“What about you, Eddie?” Mike suddenly asked with hope in his voice, which made Maia flinch a bit and close her eyes as she could sense that Eddie wasn’t in a mood for chit-chatting.

“What about me?” he mumbled with his mouth full of rice, not even bothering to look at Mike. Maia turned at the younger boy and shook her head ever so slightly, trying to discourage him from testing Eddie’s thin patience. Mike didn’t get the memo.

“Are you coming?”

Eddie looked up from his food, his eyebrows raised as far as they could go and eyes grilling the freshman. Mike winced a bit.

“You can join the three of us if you want!” he mumbled with a wishful smile but it quickly faded as Eddie swallowed his food and got up from his chair, his movements painfully slow. He leaned on the table and squinted at Mike, tilting his head.

“Tempting, but no.”

Sarcasm seeped out of his words as he took his tray, carried it away to the tray cart and then walked out of the cafeteria without another word. The table sat in silence, exchanging dumbfounded faces.

“Looks like Sleeping Beauty slept on the trailer floor last night.” Pete snorted with laughter and shook his head as they all got back to eating. Maia was still staring at his empty chair, confused by his theatrics.

What the hell was that?

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・

Eddie was on edge the whole night and he projected his mood onto the game. The session had to be moved to this evening, because the usual Friday night was occupied by the prom. Usually, he was a very professional dungeon master, keeping his emotions out of the game so he could be as righteous and neutral as possible.

Today was different. He wasn’t even sure what got him so fired up, maybe the fact that the two freshmen had more confidence than him to ask Maia out. Maybe he was mad that she didn’t think about going with him when she agreed to it.

Nonetheless, he was taking it out on the party.

“Can I, like, investigate all the shit they left behind? All the herbs and stuff, maybe search for some remnants of black magic, rituals, anything…” Maia stared at him through narrowed eyes, completely fed up with his behaviour.

The rest of the group seemed not to notice as much, probably thinking that the difficulty of their previous encounter was a natural part of the story’s progression, but she was cursed with some sort of Eddie radar that started heating her chest up every time he was acting like a little bitch. He didn’t even look at her when she asked, just emotionlessly reading his notes.

“You can try. Throw me an Arcana check.” he mumbled and she sighed, shaking the d20 in her hand before throwing it in front of her. She carefully looked through all her stats, making sure she’s armed with as big of a number as possible.

“22.”

He was silent for a few moments, still staring into his notes. Then he quickly looked her up and down and cleared his throat before dissapearing behind his screen again.

“Not enough, you’re still clueless.”

“The fuck? How is that not enough? What number does a fucking necromancer have to hit to recognize the traces of an eldritch ritual?” Maia frowned and chuckled breathlessly, shaking her head. He didn’t move a muscle, just scribbled something in his notebook.

“Stop arguing with me. Try harder next time.”

The rest of the boys awkwardly shifted in their seats and looked at each other, the tension between the two opposite sides of the table suddenly settling in every nook of the room. Maia blinked a few times and raised her eyebrows, but her challenging look was met with a brick wall. Then the brick wall spoke in an equally blank voice.

“Anyone else wanna investigate?” he looked around the table and Dustin awkwardly shrugged, studying his nest of dice. No one seemed to have any desire to follow Maia’s attempt, so Eddie nodded and ominously rolled a dice behind his screen.

“‘Kay, let’s call it quits here, we’ll continue next time.” he looked up and nodded, frowning a bit when Jeff hesitantly raised his hand.

“Sorry, but shouldn’t we level up? I mean, the fight was pretty huge…” he meekly questioned, the group joining him with nods. Eddie blinked and then moved his attention back to his notes.

“No.” he simply stated and that was enough to dissolve any thoughts of complaining from the party. They just silently nodded and packed their stuff, leaving the theatre room with silent greetings.

Maia wasn’t planning on going anywhere, though. Not until he apologizes. He knew she was still sitting in her place, piercing him with a scolding stare. He didn’t look up at her, he was focusing on folding his screen and annotating his DM guide.

“What the fuck was that supposed to be?” she hissed at him, but he didn’t pay her any attention. She exhaled sharply and banged her fist on the table.

“Look at me, you prick.”

He didn’t flinch at the noise, he just calmly raised his head and looked at her, still keeping his face emotionless.

“I asked you a question.” she said through gritted teeth, growing more and more angry with every second spent looking into his stupidly huge and stupidly brown eyes.

“I don’t know what’s your problem.” he shrugged and leaned on the table. She chuckled darkly and stood up, mirroring his stance.

“You’re my problem, Munson. What’s gotten into you?” she raised her voice slightly, his clueless act pissing her off even more.

“Nothing, you were just out of luck today, that’s all. Anyway…” he checked his watch nonchalantly, “…you should get going, you wanna in get that beauty sleep before the big night.”

Oh.

“Are you fucking joking? That’s what’s going on? You’re angry that I’m going to prom, is that it?” she punctuated the sentence with a harsh laugh, which finally seemed to trigger an emotion in him.

“You think my ego is so fragile to give a shit about a fucking prom? I’m hurt, Anderson.” he raised his voice a bit as well and snickered, his forearms flexing as he gripped the edges of the table tighter.

Her gaze quickly flickered between his face and the exposed skin and she damned her body for shivering.

“If you don’t then what’s this tragicomedy about, huh? You’re pissed that two fresh-faced boys asked me out to prom when you didn’t have the balls to do it for three fucking years in a row?” she barked out, her harsh tone making Eddie flinch ever so slightly, his knuckles white around the table edge.

“I didn’t ask you because I never thought you’d be shallow enough to go.”

The venomous exclamation hung in the air for a few seconds before dropping down on Maia’s head like a bucket of freezing water. She slowly let go of the table and stumbled back a bit, her jaw hanging open in shock. She chuckled, shaking her head as she looked down at her notes.

Without a word, she started shoving them into her backpack unceremoniously. He was frozen in his spot, blinking away tears that started prickling in his eyes upon realizing that there’s nothing to say, nothing that would erase his stupid heartless remark.

When she packed all her stuff, she threw her backpack on and stopped for a second, thinking. Then she walked right up to him, making him turn around and look into her eyes - darkly swirling with pain and fury.

He sucessfully blinked the tears away while she was rummaging in her bag and hid the regret deep behind an emotionless veil that now shrouded his pupils. After holding his gaze for a few seconds, she scoffed and forcefully pushed his chest with her fists, destabilizing his proud posture.

“Fucking coward.”

And with that, she was out of the door, leaving him to crumble down on his throne.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

Tag list: @kik51199 @preciousbabypeter @sebby-staan @sleepysl0th03 @frozenhuntress67

#eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4 #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #stranger things #stranger things oc

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meetmymouth · 4 years

Text

AUBADE ; HARRY STYLES

WORD COUNT: 12k

warnings: smut, smoking, alcohol consumption.

thank you @harryandhockey and @burberryharold for beta-ing this baby, you guys are the sweetest angels!

When the doorbell goes off for the third time that night, she groans and tosses the lipstick on her bed, then makes her way towards the door. Through the stained glass, she sees a tall figure and rolls her eyes.

“Look, this is the third time- oh. It’s you.”

The blonde raises her eyebrows, “Who were you expecting? Also wow, I feel so welcome, thank you.”

“Sorry,” the door closes behind Charlotte, and they walk inside.

Once in the tiny kitchen, kettle already on, she takes time to coat her eyelashes with mascara.

“Who did you think I was, that was quite the welcome.”

“Couple of girls kept knocking on the door. Something about a survey. I’ve no idea. Hey, can you help me put this on?” She takes a necklace out of her jean pocket and hands it over.

It’s Thursday, which means happy hour at their local pub and after that, they’d take N31 towards Camden to listen to a friend of Charlotte’s, an upcoming indie artist. She usually didn’t like going out on weekdays since she worked 8 to 4 and she would need to wake up at 6AM sharp to get ready and leave her flat for her Friday shift. But ever since Charlotte started working for the touring musician Harry Styles, they saw each other twice- once when they toured England and the second one being right before Charlotte left for tour. Being close friends since school, it was safe to say that she felt her absence and missed her friend dearly but were also so proud of her for everything she’d achieved.

So when Charlotte came home during their break, she wanted to spend as much time as possible with her friend and if it meant spending her Friday shift hungover while cleaning up animal urine and puke from all kinds of animals, then so be it.

“There,” Charlotte pats her on the neck after she clasps the necklace and she turns around, hand reaching to turn the kettle off.

“Ta. When are we leaving? And do you think I should go for my Adidas or the boots?” She points at the heeled boots, half white half black by the kitchen entrance and Charlotte follows her gaze as she sips the hot beverage.

She looks at the boots, then her, then the boots again, “The boots for fuckin’ sure. They’re sick- where’d you get them?”

“Depop,” She lets out a chuckle, “Think they’re Topshop, ‘m not sure. Should we leave? Y’know I walk dead slow and now that I’m wearin’ the boots…”

“You really do...go get your shit, I’ll wash this.”

They’re gathered around a round table, the green paint of the wooden table beginning to chip, and everyone’s got drinks of their own, G&T being the most popular choice. There are only five of them, Charlotte, her, Phoebe and her girlfriend Jamie, and they’re chatting about anything and everything until Charlotte turns to her, straw between her red lips.

“So-”

“Oh dear, what have you done,” she cuts her off and earns a glare from her, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Phoebe and Jamie cross their arms as if they’re getting ready for their usual bickering.

“Fuck you,” Charlotte sighs, “I didn’t do anything. I just invited some more people to Julien’s show and wanted to...kinda ask if that’s alright with you”

“Oh,” she looks around the table, finding the other girls looking at their phones and she turns to Charlotte, “It’s fine. Who are they?”

Phoebe snorts at that and her eyebrows raise in question. She gives Phoebe a look, but Charlotte’s quicker as she throws a damp tissue at the blonde and Jamie laughs when it lands back on Charlotte’s lap. “You know Sarah from the band?”

“Oh, yeah!”

She remembers meeting Sarah at Charlotte’s new flat after she moved to London, the brunette bringing a cute snake plant and a weird- but cute tea set as a housewarming gift and they got on well. They talked about plants, Sarah giving her tips on how to keep certain plants alive, and she asked her lots of questions about her experience being a woman, especially a drummer in the music industry. Sarah was very soft spoken; she spoke as if she was talking to a baby, but she always made sure to maintain eye contact when she was having a conversation with you, listening and nodding when appropriate so that you felt special and...understood. She was lovely, which was why she found it weird how Charlotte was acting awkward about her joining them tonight.

“And her boyfriend, Mitch, of course,” Charlotte adds and she nods, motioning for her to keep going. “And Harry.”

“Harry Styles?”

“Oh boy,” Jamie whistles.

“Obviously,” Charlotte sucks on her straw, slurping her drink, “Yeah, him,” she repeats, this time softer.

“I...why?” She chooses to ask, surprised as she’d like to think Harry Styles as this unreachable, ever-so-busy person who wouldn’t be interested in a night out like this. She turns to Phoebe, and then Jamie, and they respond with a shrug as Phoebe goes back to cuddling into Jamie’s side.

“What do you mean why?” Charlotte places her drink on the table, “It would be rude not to since I asked Sarah and Mitch.”

“Well, I just mean, isn’t he busy?”

Jamie whistles again and sings her name, “You got a crush, babes?”

“Nonsense, never even met the guy- which,” she looks around the table, “-is one of the reasons why I was confused. Anyway, it doesn't matter,” she shrugs and turns to Charlotte, “I’m not bothered, Lotts, it’s totally fine.”

“Y’sure?”

She gives her a nod, “I just find him intimidating and don’t think he’d be into indie, that’s all.”

It was true. Despite having not met Mr. Harry Styles, deep down she knew he’d be intimidating because he was so good looking and well, just like most people, she loved One Direction. She was a big fan, she even got told off by her stepmother once when she was younger because apparently the tape she used to hang her One Direction posters was ruining the walls. She often referred to them as twinks, and she didn’t even know what it meant until she was older. She remembers how she got made fun of at sixth form because one of the girls found her old Tumblr and told everyone about it. Harry’s never been her favourite though. Not because she didn’t find him attractive, not at all. It was because he was too attractive and was everyone’s favourite so whenever asked, she’d shrug and tell people how she found Louis funny, and then Zayn because ’he’s the hottest’.

Long story short, despite her friendship with Charlotte, she’d never met Harry, never had the opportunity to attend one of his shows because she was either too busy or they were playing in a different country and she simply couldn’t afford it. So tonight would be the first time they’d get to be in the same place and to say that she was nervous would be an understatement. And her, she always thought she was awkward. Way too awkward for social gatherings but she liked going out regardless, drinking cheap alcohol and dancing to shitty songs in an equally shitty pub. She loved being a student. Loved the freedom the title had given her. What’s your occupation, she’d get asked from time to time. Student, she’d say without hesitating. She was a student. She didn’t have to be anything else for three years. Sure, she was also working part time at an animal shelter but for the most part, she loved being a student. That’s how she met Phoebe, and then Jamie. In a way, she was their matchmaker.

She remembers meeting Phoebe last year when they had a class together. She was the first person to smile at her in the overcrowded lecture theatre and she remembers thinking how nice Phoebe’s green fringe looked. Meeting Jamie though, was funny. Phoebe usually got weird when they joked about it since she met Jamie before Phoebe did on Tinder, even went on a date with her, and then right before she was about to ghost her, she thought of how similar Phoebe and Jamie were. It was then that she made Phoebe go on a date with Jamie, and after a month of pining, they got together. Even though they were similar, she always thought that they actually completed each other, Jamie being the logical one and Phoebe encouraging Jamie to let loose from time to time and live in the moment.

Charlotte reaches and boops her nose, “He’s a musician, he loves all kinds of music. He won’t eat you, babe. He’s nice, I promise.”

Phoebe knocks on the wood, getting everyone’s attention, “Can we get a picture with him? An autograph?”

She feels a throbbing pain in her feet, toes in particular once they’re in and they wait for Phoebe and Jamie to buy their drinks, knowing she’d wake up with blisters in the morning. Charlotte takes out her phone and presumably texts the others, letting them know they were already here. She felt nervous. Nervous because she always thought she was rubbish when it came to meeting new people; they either thought she was too intimidating or rude but in reality, it was only because she always felt anxious meeting new people and would rather stay quiet than talking nonsense.

She takes time to analyse her outfit, a pair of black mom jeans and her boots, oh the boots who were currently grilling her feet. Then she tries to adjust her lace bodysuit, all of a sudden feeling super self conscious about the ”revealing” outfit. She adjusts the top, hoping her tits weren’t out before, and sighs when she touches the oversized blazer, rolling up the sleeves a bit more since it was beginning to get warm, too warm for her liking inside. Considering how she often felt self conscious about her arms, she felt more comfortable with the blazer over the sexy bodysuit.

“So,” she starts, eyes studying the crowded bar before her gaze stops at Charlotte, “Are they here?”

Charlotte looks up from her phone and nods, leaning her head on her shoulder. She feels her arm going around her waist and smiles, nudging her head with hers and she looks up, giving her a smile of her own. “What’s up, blondie?” she asks, hand coming up to ruffle Charlotte’s fringe.

She sighs, “Just tired, to be honest. I’m glad I wore trainers.”

“At least one of us is happy about their shoe choice.”

They watch as Phoebe and Jamie walk towards them, the brunette handing her a tall glass as Phoebe hands Charlotte her own drink. “When’s she on?”

Everyone turns to Charlotte, “Half an hour, maybe?”

“When are your friends coming? It’s getting quite...stuffy in here,” Jamie looks around and Phoebe nods, hands going around Jamie’s waist to pull the brunette into her.

“I texted Sarah and she said Harry was parking the car- oh, I see Mitch.”

They all look around, and she spots the tall guy with long hair, walking towards them with Sarah and Harry behind. She gulps and tries to look away, praying that no one takes notice of her sweaty forehead and shaky hands.

As the trio walk towards them, she takes a moment to examine Harry, and his outfit. Even in the dimly lit bar, she’s almost sure the high waisted trousers he has on are navy, and he’s got a tan...or a beige shirt tucked in them, chest on full display and she notices a cross necklace, looking as if it was made for his pretty neck. She clears her throat as quietly as she can and looks down but not before she takes a peek at his shoes, and she almost snorts at the choice of red boots he’s got on, noticing how everyone had trainers on while the two of them had what looked like very uncomfortable boots on.

To be honest, she thinks, he looks pretty good. She looks around them, noticing how most guys had jeans and ugly trainers on whereas Harry looked like he made quite the effort with his outfit but she also knows that even if he turned up in jeans and ugly trainers, he would still look amazing. Damn Harry Styles. Was she blushing?

The three of them are in their space now, close enough so she can make out Sarah’s overpowering perfume, and she clears her throat once again when Charlotte embraces Sarah first, then Mitch. Before she can watch her hug Harry, Sarah’s in front of her.

“Hi,” she smiles, going in for a hug, “It’s so nice to see you again. It’s been a while,” she says and her voice comes out muffled since they’re still hugging and she hopes her hair smells decent because Sarah’s face is pressed against her neck and hair.

“It’s nice to see you too! How have you been?”

“‘Been alright, I suppose!” She beams at her and turns to the man with long hair, “This is Mitch.”

As Sarah introduces everyone with Mitch, she feels Harry’s eyes on her, though she can’t turn her head and meet his gaze because that’d be rude seeing how Mitch is about to reach and give her a one armed hug. Alright then, she thinks, they’re a hugger. Then, it’s Harry’s turn. She looks at him, seeing how his eyes are focused on Phoebe and Jamie as he gives them both a warm smile before Charlotte starts talking again, introducing everyone to Phoebe and Jamie, then everyone turns to her, and she feels her face heat up seeing how everyone’s attention is on her now. She knows it’s her turn.

Harry takes a step forward and her earlier thoughts are confirmed when she can finally make out the colour of his trousers. “Hey, ‘m Harry,” he gives her a smile without waiting for Charlotte to speak, “Nice meeting you,” he comes closer and wraps an arm around her, engulfing her in a hug but it’s definitely different from Mitch or Sarah’s hug. It’s tight, much warmer and he’s got both arms around her, palms flat against her back as he rubs her back.

And of course she responds with the same warmness and hugs him back, “Hiya,” she introduces herself, and once they pull apart, he repeats her name and it sounds like poetry, something so personal and...erotic. But maybe, she thinks, maybe it’s just his deep voice making her feel that way.

Despite the moment they shared, if she could call it that, felt like hours, it was merely a minute. And it wasn’t like in the films where they hug, everything around them slowing down as the people watch in awe. No, not at all. When she looks around, she sees that everyone’s been already mingling, Phoebe and Jamie smiling at each other while they sipped their drinks, and Mitch is nowhere to be seen, possibly at the bar getting drinks.

Harry turns to Charlotte with a grin, “So is she any good, should we replace you with her?” He says, nudging her with his hip.

That sort of makes her smile, seeing Harry so carefree and friendly with the people who are essentially working for him. Even though she doesn’t know Harry Styles like they do, like Charlotte does, she knows he considers these people to be his friends and colleagues rather than his employees. It’s also fun seeing him this friendly with her best friend, and she feels proud, as she always does, knowing Charlotte has made herself great friends and that she clearly enjoys working with these people.

Charlotte nudges him back, “She’s great, I wouldn’t mind being replaced by her. Oh, there she is,” she points at the stage, and everyone turns to look at the pink-haired girl on the tiny stage with a sleek looking acoustic guitar on her side. As the others start talking about Julien, she finally takes the opportunity to look at Harry. Once their eyes meet, he gives her a smile, dimples on full display, and she swears she could see him blush when he looks down after she beamed at him. Even if he did blush though, he recovers quickly when he’s offered a drink and he mutters a thank you to Mitch, then lifts the slice of lime off the rim of his glass and sucks it into his mouth and she deems it as a good time to look away.

And she does, when she feels Sarah close, and she turns to her, Sarah welcoming her with a smile, “How’s uni? It’s your last year, right?��

“Oh, yeah,” she clears her throat, “It’s alright. Exhausting, but alright.”

“You’re working too, right?”

“Yeah, I work at an animal shelter.”

“It must be exhausting.”

“It is,” she gives her a nod, “I work three days a week and I also have classes so I only have Sundays off. I’ll probably leave and focus on uni after Christmas break though, I have my dissertation next semester.”

“Oh, cool! I miss being a student,” she purses her lips and turns to Harry, who had been listening to their conversation, his pretty fingers, most of them adorned with equally pretty rings, wrapped around the tall glass, “You probably can’t relate, H, can ya?”

He rolls her eyes but laughs regardless, “Piss off.”

Despite the chatter around them, it’s not ridiculously loud so they can carry a conversation without having to shout. They fall into an easy conversation, everyone joining in, and all of a sudden a pink neon light falls over them and they all turn to the stage. Julien starts singing, and all the chatter around them dies down, some people already starting to sing the words back at her.

She looks away from the stage for a minute and catches Harry’s gaze from across the room. They’re close enough for her to make out a few droplets of sweat on Harry’s forehead, and their eyes meet as he gives her a smile, eyes sparkling with mischief, then brings the glass up to his mouth. She watches as his top lip rests on the rim before he lifts it to his mouth and when she looks up, she sees him still looking at, gaze unwavering and mouth curled upwards in a sly smirk. She was caught. She was caught and he looked like he was loving and devouring every second of it.

Julien takes a break, promising to come back with a brand new song from her upcoming EP, and there’s a group of people making their way towards the exit, presumably to have a smoke and get some fresh air.

“Where’s she gone?” Charlotte huffs, eyes searching the room for the pink haired girl.

“She’s over there,” Phoebe points at Julien and they all turn to where she’s pointing at, spotting Julien near the bar with a drink in hand.

“Is she flirting?”

“She’s got groupies already?” she says after she takes her eyes off of Harry and everyone laughs.

Charlotte comes closer and nudges her shoulder against her, “You’d know, wouldn’t you?” “Be quiet,” she nudges back, and their group falls back into their conversation except Harry, who keeps staring at her and she gulps, hands reaching to feel her blazer pockets.

“Right,” she mutters, “It’s time to poison myself. I’m going out for a fag,” once she feels the bulge in her pocket, she turns to Charlotte, “Send me a text when she’s back on, yeah?”

“I’ll come with.”

She looks up at Harry, surprised, but nods, waiting for him to follow her outside. Even though she tries her best not to make eye contact with anyone as they leave, she’s aware of them watching them, everyone in their group equally surprised, but they keep walking, Harry following quietly behind. Once they pass the smelly bodies, they’re finally outside, the wind licking her face once she steps out and she tries to hug herself closer, seeing how the thin blazer’s not doing a good job at keeping her warm.

Harry wishes he’d brought a coat.

They’re quiet as he follows her to a quiet corner, only a few people turning their heads their way, presumably recognising him, and they stop near a brick wall and she takes her tobacco out of her left pocket. She looks up, catching him staring at her ring-clad fingers wrapped around the dark green packet, and she clears her throat, making him look up at her. They share a smile, both feeling at ease with the comfortable silence between them. She spots a wooden bench near and sits down, hands already working the packet open. When she starts tearing the tobacco apart, Harry can’t help but note how quickly she’s working it between her fingers, and he’s almost certain she’s been doing this for years.

“Want one?” She asks and he saunters forward, coming to stand in front of her with hands in his pockets.

He shrugs and she takes that as a yes, fingers pausing their work on the tobacco to take out something that resembles a cigarette and it’s only when she pushes it from the bottom that Harry realises they’re filters. Placing one between her lips, her fingers dip into her pocket once again to retrieve some papers and Harry finds himself unable to look away from her lips and how pretty they look with something between them.

He looks down at her lap, where the packet of tobacco is, seeing her fingers work swiftly as she fills the thin paper, and despite knowing better not to glamorise something as horrible and disgusting as smoking, he takes his time to admire the way she pushes down the tobacco with her index finger, presumably trying to fit and secure everything inside the paper. Taking the filter from between her lips, she places it inside the paper, at the very end, and her fingers start rolling.

Oh fuck, he thinks, knowing what’s about to come. Unable to look away, he watches as she brings it up to her mouth and licks a long stripe along the paper, and despite the lack of lighting around them, his eyes make out her pink tongue moving along the paper and it doesn’t come as a surprise when he feels a sudden twitch in his trousers at the unholy image before his eyes.

“There,” she hands him the rolled up cigarette, “Hope you don’t mind that I licked?”

He wants to laugh because of course he doesn’t mind. In fact, he quite enjoyed it, according to the knot in his stomach and his twitching cock in his underwear. He enjoyed it so much that he now couldn’t stop imagining her mouth doing other things, preferably dirty things with, or to him.

“Nah, it’s all good, thanks.”

“No probs. Didn’t take you as the smoking type,” she lets it slip out.

“I...don’t smoke, really. Only sometimes. When I’m drinking. Which…” He looks at the cigarette between her fingers, “...isn’t that often.”

She notices the nervousness that tinges his words, and it makes her feel better knowing he’s also as awkward as her. “Fair,” she sends him a smile and repeats all the steps on her own rollie, putting it between her lips just like Harry, and she takes her lighter out of the same pocket. She lights her own first and reaches to light his, and he sort of bends over until his cigarette reaches the lighter. They both take a hefty drag of their cigarettes and she blows the smoke out first, Harry watching her pursed lips as he lets out his own next, both of their cigarette smoke swirling in the air and joining in together.

He takes it out of his mouth and lets his arm dangle on his side, cigarette between his fingers, and watches as she takes another drag before fumbling with the packet on her lap, putting everything back in her pocket haphazardly.

“Do you go to uni in London, or?”

“Westminster, yeah,” she takes another drag and notices how Harry hasn’t taken another one of his since.

“Nice,” he says and a grin stretches over his face, “Charlotte talks about you a lot.”

“She does?”

“Yeah, all the time. If I didn’t know about her boyfriend I’d say she was in love with you,” he laughs and gestured to the lighter in her hand and she lets him take the lighter from her hand, watching as the flame lick at the cigarette between Harry’s lip and he takes a long drag. “I mean, we...the band feel like we already know you. It’s sweet, how much she cares about you.”

“Well, I’m pretty hard not to love, you know.”

He blows out the smoke, a chuckle escaping his mouth, “That right?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking great.”

“Well, I-”

He gets interrupted by her phone going off and a pout forms on his face. She huffs, looking around, then throws the cigarette on the ground despite the sign and he does the same, not feeling bad in the slightest. “We going in?” He asks, like a lost puppy waiting for his owner’s command.

“I guess. Is it bad that I don’t want to? Like...does that make me a bad friend?”

“Nah. I...I kinda wanted to stay here too. I was enjoying our conversation.”

She sends him a grin, eyes mischievous, and stops walking, “You telling me you weren’t bored to death by my dry ass conversation?”

“Dry? You opened up and talked about your narcissistic behaviours, that’s not boring, darling,” he smirks and she rolls her eyes, hand reaching to slap his chest and it feels easy, like they’ve known each other for years. “Alright, alright, ’m just messing with you.”

She starts walking again, a few steps ahead of him, and he follows, passing three girls with phones up to their faces.

It’s easy, he thinks, it’s easy with her.

People in the bar begin to leave one by one, and it’s only their small group and a few others left, some of them still sipping their drinks and the others talking and laughing. Some even come up to Julien, who’s sipping her water from a reusable water bottle as Charlotte keeps snapping pictures of her, and they all congratulate her, telling her how excited they are about the EP. She’s all smiles, fringe sticking to her forehead due to sweat, and her long arms are equally sweaty, dressed in a tight black dress with striped knee high socks adorning her long legs, and a pair of platform Mary Janes.

“So,” Harry says, folding his arms across his chest, “Do you have any plans for October?”

Mitch snorts across him and Julien tilts her head, puzzled, “Erm...I’ve no idea, to be honest. It’s months away and God knows I’m shite at thinking ahead. That’s why I’m friends with this lot,” she gestures to their tiny group, causing Charlotte to snort and Julien continues, turning her attention to her who’s playing with the hem of her blazer, “This one though...”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Oi, what’s crawled up your bum, eh?” Julien turns to Harry again, catching how his gaze flickered over her body, then her face instead of looking at Julien and she finds herself smirking at the tension between the two.

“We’re thinking of putting a show together for Halloween. I have a bunch of new and upcoming artists in my mind that I’d love to see perform that night. Would you be interested?” Harry’s attention is back on Julien and he watches as the girl gasps, eyes widening in excitement.

“Shut the fuck up!” She yells, almost dropping her water bottle and they all laugh, Charlotte reaching to flip her on the forehead and she slaps her freshly-manicured hand away, “You’re not taking the piss, are you?”

Harry laughs, “Am definitely not. I love your vibe. That’s actually one of the reasons why I asked Charlotte if I could come tonight,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair, the strands gliding easily between his long fingers.

“Yeah,” Charlotte smiles at Julien, “He’s on a hunt. He thinks he’s one of those talent agents. Just say yes, Jules, it’ll be fun.”

“Holy fuck. Yes. Fuck, yes. Of fucking course, yes!”

They all laugh when she lunges herself at Harry, arms wrapping around his neck, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, fuck I could literally kiss you right now but I won’t, I’ve been watching you both undress each other with your eyes all night,” arms still around Harry’s neck, Julien turns her head towards her, whom Harry’s been looking at all night, and gives her a wink before breaking their hug. “So, do I have to do anything? What do I have to do? Fuck, I’m so bad at this-”

“Hey,” Harry interrupts, “It’s fine. Relax. Are you signed with anyone? Have a manager?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m with Gleam, my manager, Alana, she’s sick that’s why she wasn't here tonight.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Just give me your phone number and your manager’s contact details and we’ll sort everything out. Hey- relax, it’s gonna be fun!” He reaches and gives her shoulder a squeeze.

“I called an Uber,” Sarah says after her phone goes off, “And it looks like…” she taps on the screen a few times, “Hassan is here.”

“We could’ve gotten maccies,” she says, pouting, as her head rests on Charlotte’s shoulder.

Sarah sighs, cuddling closer into Mitch’s side, “We’re leaving for Brighton tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, Sarah’s making us wake up at, like, five,” Mitch grumbles.

They all start walking towards the exit, Julien and Harry in the back talking about the show as Charlotte links her arm with her as they follow behind the others. As they walk, she remembers how Harry arrived with Sarah and Mitch, meaning they shared a ride, and she turns to look at Harry who seems to be in deep conversation as he waves his hands around.

She feels hot all of a sudden, remembering how neither of them wanted to go inside earlier, how good he looked and how his voice sounded, deep, so deep, when his attention was only on her and not the girl on the stage or his drink or the people around them. As selfish as it sounds, she wanted all his attention on her, she wanted him to only look at her, see her, think of her, and she feels foolish because they only met tonight, and their conversation earlier didn’t last that long.

Once they’re outside, everyone sighs, almost in relief as the fresh air fills their lungs, and everyone bids their goodbyes to Sarah and Mitch, then Phoebe starts complaining about how uncomfortable and tired she was.

“That’s it from us, folks, my wife needs a shower,” Jamie pinches Phoebe’s cheek as Phoebe blushes, swatting her hand away.

She turns to Harry for a second and he’s just standing there, arms folded with an expression she’s unable to read, and Julien laughs, muttering something about catching a black cab since she now has money to waste.

Everyone leaves and it’s only them, and Charlotte comes closer to her as she nudges her hip with hers, “Hey. Is it cool if Harry gives you a ride? Tom’s picking me up.”

She panics and gives her a puzzled look. A car ride with Harry. Alone. Just the two of them.

She swallows, “How come you never mention it?”

“He just texted me, we’re driving up to Manc. Will you be okay?” She reaches and strokes her cheek, then turns to Harry, as if the question was directed at both of them.

“Well, yeah...I mean- I’ll call a Bolt or something-”

“It’s fine, I can give you a ride,” Harry says, hands now in his pockets. He looks like he’s cold too, considering how he’s only wearing a thin shirt and his chest is on full display, letting the breeze softly lick at the flesh.

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother, I can take a Bolt. Really, it’s fine.”

“I insist...whereabouts is your place?”

“Ehm,” she sniffs and her eyes look for Charlotte for a moment, and when she spots her, she’s watching them despite the phone pressed against her ear. “Marylebone.”

“Great! That alright with you?”

She looks at Charlotte again, the short haired girl failing to meet her gaze, and she turns to Harry again, lips pursed, “I guess- I mean...sure. Okay.”

Harry beams at that, the dimple on his left cheek widening with the smile, and she wants to reach out and touch it, place her finger there. She doesn’t though. Instead, she gives him a smile and looks down at her boots, feeling all giddy inside with the realisation that she’d be alone with Harry for a while and it would also be away from any prying eyes, in the warmth of his car.

Charlotte comes back and reaches for her, giving her a big hug as she buries her head in her neck, and she involuntarily breathes in the smell of cigarettes and Charlotte’s personal favourite, Chanel no. 5.

“Text me when you’re home, yeah? And text me if you need anything...he’s nice, I promise,” she whispers the last part, as if she’s letting her in on a secret, then reaches for Harry to give him a hug.

“Drive safe,” she says, walking backwards, “I mean it.”

“I will. Precious cargo, am I right?”

Harry opens the door for her and waits for her to get in, her lips form the words ‘thank you’, and once they’re both inside, seatbelts on, Harry sighs and tries to fix his creased shirt. She watches his hands, the rings catching the light coming from a lamppost outside, creating beams, and she notices the single, nearly-chipped gold nail polish on his left pinky.

“So…” they both say at the same time and he laughs, shaking his head, and a few strands fall to his eyes.

She chuckles too, eyes falling to her hands on her lap as she fiddles with them. “I think we’ve been set up,” she mumbles and looks up at him, finding him watching her carefully with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh.

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m usually not this dumb.”

“Maybe you wanted play dumb, hm?” He gives her a smile, causing her to scoff, and he surprises them both when his left hand reaches to stroke her cheek, making goosebumps appear on her skin and she swears she could hear her breath hitch at the warm touch, feeling hot all over.

They stare at each other, his hand still on her cheek, and she swallows, “Sure, whatever you say.”

“Is this okay?” He asks, gesturing at the touch, voice as soft and smooth as honey.

She nods, because it is. It is more than okay and if it were up to her, they’d already be kissing, tasting each other’s dirty, sweaty skin and touching each other all over, feeling each other’s bodies...she wanted all of that.

She swallows again, his gaze shifting from her face to her neck, then lower and lower until it reaches her boobs. They look divine, he thinks, despite the lack of lighting in his car, they look absolutely gorgeous, sort of spilling out from the lace material and he gulps, hand beginning to make its way down to her neck. He rests it there as long fingers caress the side of her neck, discovering a few moles there, and he looks up at her, only to find her eyes fixed on his lap. He looks down to, the slight tent not coming as a surprise, and he gives her a grin, the other hand coming to rest atop his bulge.

“Hm?” He hums as he waits for her answer despite knowing what she would say.

She clears her throat and looks around, seeing the almost empty parking lot all dark except the stop sign near the exit, and turns her attention back to Harry.

“Yes. It’s okay.”

“Mmm,” his fingers curl around her throat, thumb stroking the flesh there, “Thank you, love. Can I kiss you?”

“You can...Please,” she practically moans when his thumb presses a sweet spot on her neck and he gives her a smile, hand reaching to unbuckle both of their seatbelts with a click.

It doesn’t happen that fast. First, he gives her a look, almost as if he’s trying to remember where her lips are and the nose, then her eyes...he keeps looking, and looking, and he brings his hand up to her mouth, resting his thumb on her bottom lip as her eyes shift downwards with the movement. While he watches her, she takes her time to watch him, his face, and she feels something bubbling inside her, much like the bubbles that rise to the top when you open a coke bottle.

Pressure, she thinks, pressure and the need to devour him. Thus, without thinking too much, she reaches and grabs him by the nape of his neck, his hand falling atop the car seat as their lips meet, both of them hungry for each other’s touch as their teeth clash and Harry lets out a hiss when she bites his bottom lip, suckining it into her mouth.

His hands go up to her cheeks, pushing her far enough to look into her face and eyes in particular and he smiles, the inside of his palms feeling the soft peach fuzz on her face. When she lunges forward to continue their kiss, he stops her, thumb stroking her cheekbones as she lets out a huff, and he chuckles, “Slow, baby, slow. We’ve got time. I want to feel you, taste you as much as I can, yeah?”

She nods, letting him stroke the side of her face some more and feel her skin against his soft hands before he starts leaning in, this time slow, so slow that it feels like hours to her. Before she closes her eyes, she catches a glimpse of his pink tongue dart out to lick his lips, and he finally captures her top lip, sucking it into his mouth softly and she melts under his touch, her mouth pursed as she starts responding with her own kisses. Their lips, she feels, fit together like a puzzle piece.

Harry’s tongue swipes across her bottom lip and she opens wider, letting him lick into her mouth further. It’s hot, wet, and she feels herself getting wetter and wetter as the smooch noises grow louder with each kiss. His hands are now cupping both of her cheeks, and as he presses wet pecks on her parted mouth, one of his thumbs travel down to her mouth and he stops their kiss, and she opens her eyes, giving him a puzzled look.

He shushes her, lips pursed as he does so, and her eyes watches the movement, wanting to feel them all over her body now that she knows how he feels and tastes like. He presses his thumb against her bottom lip, then into her mouth and pulls her closer to him. He shuts his eyes and tilts his head when she closes her mouth around his thumb, sucking it like a lolly, and his cock twitches in his trousers again as he watches the way she sucks on his flesh, humming around it as if she’s having the most delicious meal of her life.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, “Y’like playing with me, don’t you?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she takes his thumb out of her mouth with a pop and she holds him by the wrist, placing his hand on one of her boobs and Harry lets her warm hands and the feeling of lace overpower him as he gives her boob a squeeze, then travels his hand down to where he supposes her nipple is and brushes a thumb over it, a beaming grin stretching across his face when he feels her pebbled nipple under his thumb.

When he looks at her face, she’s biting her lips, eyes shut, and he bites his own lips as he traps her covered nipple between his thumb and index finger, tweaking it gently which causes her to breathe out a moan, toes curling involuntarily inside her boots. He tugs at it, then his hand travels up and he looks at her, as if to ask her permission for what he’s about to do. And she nods, of course she does, and she feels her upper torso getting sore from the position they’ve been in but she lets it go, reaching for his hand near her boob and places it on top of his, encouraging him to keep going.

With her hand on top of his, he slides the bodysuit down from the top, and he feels his cock twitch in interest so he has to bring his other hand down to press against his bulge over his trousers in hopes of relieving some of the tension. He plays with her nipple, tweaking and squeezing it between his fingers before finally leaning to capture the pebbled nipple into his mouth. “God damn, your tits...so fuckin’ hot, baby,” he bites her nipple and she shudders, back arching in pleasure. “Wanna do everything with you...wanna fuck you- wanna fuck these tits,” he whispers against her nipple, now wet with his spit, and his hot breath sends chills down her spine.

It’s warm, his mouth, so warm and wet around her hard nipples and she lets out another moan, arms wrapping around his neck and she tries to press against him closer. “Fuck,” a moan leaver her mouth, “Please, Harry, fuck me. Do something, just- ‘m so wet.”

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Jesus,” he presses a kiss to her nipple before he frees her other boob from the fabric, “You’re so fuckin’ hot. Got me so fuckin’ hard, just look at these gorgeous tits, baby. Bet your cunt’s even more gorgeous, hm?” He whispers, hands already on the other boob, squeezing the nipple and he watches as it hardens, looking so pretty and puckered for him and he gets his mouth on that one too, licking across the nipple before he bites it into his mouth.

“Can I take this off, sweetheart?” He touches her shoulder, squeezing her there over the blazer, and when he sees the hesitation in her eyes, he travels his hand up to her neck and strokes it there, “Y’don’t have to, darling. However you’re comfortable.”

“No,” she says ever so softly, “It’s okay.”

He smiles at her as she takes the jacket off and throws it somewhere at her feet. Harry grabs her by the neck and brings her in for another kiss but this time, it’s slow. And sweet. Slow, sweet, and warm, so warm that she feels it in her chest, in her stomach, and it reaches everywhere, the kiss warming anything and everything inside her. He swipes a tongue across her bottom lip before pulling away, and places both hands on her boobs, squeezing them, mouth popping open as he watches them in awe.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he brings one of his hands to the front of his trousers and the heels of his palms press against the bulge, but instead of giving him some relief, the touch makes him hiss, wishing for something softer, warmer.

“Can I fuck you? I need to fuck you, please, sweetheart,” he whispers and she nods, tongue darting out to lick her dry lips and he nods as well, looking around inside the car, swiftly examining the tinted black windows before he turns to her, “I hate that I’m about to fuck that pretty pussy in the backseat of my car instead of a comfortable bed but I need it so bad, sweetheart, I need you,” he licks his lips, “That okay?”

“Yes...more than.”

He helps her move to the backseat, boobs still hanging from the top, and he joins her in the backseat quickly. They’re closer now, nothing serving as a barrier between them, and with the way they’re facing each other, she can make out a tiny pimple on the side of his nose as well as a little mole on his forehead. Her gaze falls to his bulge again, and he’s already fumbling to get them off. With a swallow, she shuts her eyes so she doesn’t see Harry watching her intently, dilated pupils fixated on her sweaty skin, her lips in particular.

He leans in and presses an open mouth kiss to her damp skin, the touch making her open her eyes.

Take it off” she whispers, voice as sweet as honey, “Come on, I want you to fuck me,” she breathes against his hair, his head now in the crook of her neck, and she feels him nod, his hands coming to rest atop hers.

He fumbles with the button with shaky hands, her hands coming to rest on Harry’s waist and he sighs in relief when he hears the zipper. He lowers his trousers along with his underwear clumsily, the pile of material pooling around his ankles. He’s hard and leaking already, the tip an angry shade of red, and she takes a few seconds to admire the thickness of his cock and how pretty it looks, his dark, coarse pubic hair making her mouth water as she imagines deepthroating him, nuzzling the hair at the base of his cock.

Harry looks up and she’s got one hand on her boob while the other rubs herself through her jeans, presumably feeling aroused with the way the fabric is feeling against her pussy. A low, choked ‘fuck’ leaves his mouth following a growl as his long fingers begin unbuttoning the beige shirt and she watches, bottom lip trapped between her teeth with fingers rubbing herself.

Once it’s unbuttoned, he’s quick to get his hands on her jeans, eyes briefly searching for something in hers before he starts unbuttoning them. She stops him and bends over to take her boots off and he watches her back, hand reaching involuntarily to travel his fingers down her spine, stroking her waist before he bends forward to place a kiss on there as she keeps fumbling with her boots. Once they’re off, he’s quick to help her get the jeans off too, and he throws them in the front seat, smiling when she hears her giggle.

“Alright, Miss Giggles?” he says softly, palm resting on top of her thigh as one of his hands reaches and strokes the side of her face, fingers playing in her wild strands of hair.

She bites her lip again, giving him a nod, and he brings her face into his, lips pressing a tender kiss to her chin before he opens his mouth slightly and grazes his teeth across the flesh, and he presses a final, loud kiss there before he pulls away with a pop, leaving her chin all shiny and wet with his saliva. He lowers his eyes and spots her thong, fabric too tiny and flimsy to cover all the areas of her pussy, and he lets out a groan at the sight, hand immediately reaching to touch what’s under her little thong.

“So pretty, darling...so, so pretty,” he murmurs and she watches with parted legs as he positions his middle finger against her pussy over the black lace, thin, so he feels just how warm and wet she is between her folds. This makes him pause to look down at his cock, just to make sure he’s not about to spill all over the carseat since he feels the pleasure at the tip of his cock, ready to explode right then and there. “How can anyone ever resist you, hm? This pretty girl…” with one hand still between her legs, he reaches with his other hand and ghosts his thumb over her nipple, his other hand working her thong as he pulls it to the side, “...this pretty pussy,” he murmurs, making her eyes lull shut at the compliments.

She parts her legs wider to give him more room to work with, and he grins as he looks up at her hungry eyes, knowing what she’s asking for. And god, is he about to give her what she wants. The way she looks, not just half naked but from the moment he’d caught a glimpse of the grumpy girl across the room, it’s been driving him insane. Not that she was rude or looked bored, but she looked cute, kinda nervous, as if she too was as uncomfortable as Harry by the prying eyes and tipsy chatter around them.

From the moment they were introduced, Harry knew she didn’t particularly like to be looked at. Maybe he was being judgmental, or reading too much into things, but he got the impression that she was sort of nervous to be around people, especially new people. He tried his hardest not to be some weirdo, an utter creep who kept looking at the beautiful girl across him but truth be told, it wasn’t the first time Harry had seen the girl’s face.

He knew of her, stories about her, from Charlotte, and saw numerous photos and throwback videos of them on Charlotte’s Instagram, but he would never actually admit to the fact that he’d clicked on her tag on one of Charlotte’s posts, and scrolled through her feed for hours, giggling from time to time at her silly captions and numerous pictures of a Golden Retriever and a black cat cuddling.

Yes, he might have found her interesting, took a few screenshots of her posts where she proudly displayed her favourite reads, immediately ordering everything on there, and a few funny memes, but now with his middle finger circling her clit, he would never, ever admit any of that to anyone, ever.

“Harry,” she breathes, and it sounds sort of harsh, rough even, the reason presumably being a mix of the cigarettes she’d been smoking and the way his finger teasingly, slowly moves over her pussy. “Harry…” she says again, melodiously, fingers curling around his wrist and he looks up with a grin, eyes almost evil, dark and pupils dilated from hunger bubbling up inside him.

He retracts his finger and brings it up to his mouth slowly, her eyes watching him like a hawk, and his pink tongue darts out, licking a long stripe up his middle finger and he truly devours the savoury taste, eyes finding hers as he sucks the finger into his mouth. “Taste so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “Want me to play with that beautiful cunt, hm? Give it my full attention?”

“Yes, please, I need it so bad, I’ve been waiting for so long.”

“Yeah?” He asks, ever so softly, “How long?” He presses, his middle finger once again placed between her wet folds, and she wraps her fingers around his wrist.

There’s a bloom of pleasure in her voice when she lets out a shaky breath, a stuttered ’yeah’ because she doesn’t want to give in to Harry’s teasing game, and he leans forward, capturing her chin with his mouth as he bites the flesh while the pads of his finger massages slow and deep over her swollen clit.

He feels the spongy bit under his touch, “Tell me you’ve been thinking of this too,” he breathes against her wet chin, then brings his middle finger down to her hole. It’s wet, so fucking wet when he drags his finger back up and circles her clit faster than before which makes her legs kick out in pleasure, one hand grabbing harshly at her boob as the other go up to Harry’s soft hair and she pulls, fingernails scratching his scalp while doing so. He groans against her skin and drags his finger down to her slick little hole again, circling around the wet, soft muscle and he pushes his finger in, her cunt making a wet, lovely sound as he does so as his eyes fall to his throbbing cock.

It’s so hard, an unpleasant feeling blooming inside, so he takes his finger out of her hole, making her let out a tiny whimper as she clenches around nothing with the sudden loss of his touch. Harry brings his finger up to his mouth, and his pink tongue darts out to lick, mouth closing around to devour the slightly salty slickness.

“Can I fuck you now?” He asks as his hand goes to stroke the side of her neck, goosebumps appearing immediately at the touch. She shudders, unable to respond and Harry’s voice is softer this time, “Can I, baby? Will you let me fuck your pretty pussy now? I need it so bad, sweetheart, so fucking bad. See how hard I am for you? So fucking hard for you, baby.”

“God,” another shaky breath, “Please, I’m so wet and horny- I need it, Harry, please.”

“Need my cock, yeah? Need me to fill that little hole? Stretch your tiny little hole, darling?”

“Fuck- please, I- please stop teasing me, I need it...please, fuck me.”

Harry feels something, a prickly sensation inside him, his groin tightening, and he knows it’s her dirty mouth and sweet face to blame. He looks down at his cock, hard as rock between his legs, and grabs her by the waist, pulling her on top of him with ease. “There, sweet girl.”

He lets out a hiss when her warm pussy makes contact with his cock and she bites her lip, leaning forward until their sweaty foreheads meet. “Your pussy’s so fuckin’ warm. Shit, we need condoms,” a strong arm wraps around her waist and she gasps when he leans forward so suddenly. His face is buried into her boobs as he tries to retrieve his wallet from one of the compartments in between and she watches him struggle, unable to control a tiny laugh escaping her mouth.

“Well,” Harry mumbles, warm lips making her skin feel all tingly, “This is lovely...mmm,” a few kisses are pressed between her boobs, then another open mouth one on her left nipple, and they’re finally back to their previous position, condom package between Harry’s lips as he rips the top, never once taking his eyes off of her while doing so.

“Ready for me?” He gives himself a few lazy pulls, thumbing at the tip while she watches, one hand kneading her boob. “Hm? Ready to take my cock?” He moves his hand slowly, up and down, causing her to swallow.

“Yeah...fuck yeah. Please, fuck me.”

He looks up at her as the rubber works its way down his cock, and she joins her arms around his neck, fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, and he brings his cock to her cunt, earning a moan from her, her warm breath licking at his face ever so softly. He grunts, voice strained with pleasure when he feels how warm and wet she is at the touch of his cock and slides it against her warmth before he brings it down to her tight little hole and pauses there.

“Y’ready, sweet girl?” He nudges their foreheads together and it’s sweet, so sweet despite the position they’re in, and she nods, feeling their damp foreheads stick together, and Harry gives her a bright smile, dimple appearing on his left cheek.

And he pushes it in. With his thumb pressed against the tip, he pushes his cock inside her, the tightness squeezing his already sensitive cock as if she doesn’t want to let him go, as if she wants to keep him inside of her forever and ever.

“God, such a tight cunt, baby. Squeezing me already, hm?” He murmurs into her mouth, “Easy, darling...slow. Slow, yeah? Want to feel you properly,” his hands go up to her hips, holding her there to still the movement of her hips, and her arms loop around his sweaty neck, fingernails scratching the back of his neck and he hisses, face moving forward to press a bruising kiss on her parted mouth.

Once she calms down, hips stilled, his strong arms begin moving her up and down and they both moan, quick breaths leaving their mouths and mixing together just like how their bodies are almost joined together, two becoming one, and Harry starts moving his own hips so he can fuck into her as she helps her by moving her own hips up and down, slowly, just like he’d asked her to, feeling his cock stretching her tight hole with his every move. There’s a honking outside and both their movements still for a second, and a muffled chuckle leaves her mouth, arms tightening around Harry’s neck.

Their eyes meet, Harry’s mouth turning upwards, “What’s so funny, Miss Giggles, hm?” He murmurs as his hips speed up again, their skins slapping against each other as his cock strokes the insides of her walls ever so softly, sliding in and out of her.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking big, I- I knew you’d be big but...fuck, you’re so good, so fucking good, Harry,” she moans, earning a grunt from him as she meets his thrusts, her hands sliding down to Harry’s shoulders and squeezing his smooth skin briefly before she brings her palms down to her chest.

She strokes the hair on his chest, admiring the way his cross necklace sits proudly there, amongst his now damp chest hair, and she brings her palm to one of his nipples, thumb stroking the slightly darker nub and he lets out a groan as goosebumps appear on his chest and nipples.

“God,” she breathes and Harry can smell the fruity-sour alcohol on her breath, and his mouth pops open when she tweaks his sensitive nipples. “I love your nipples,” she moans again when his cock brushes that sweet spot inside her and he does too, arms tightening around her waist, and she tweaks his nipples again, this time harder as her hips speed up, ass slapping against his meaty thighs and she keeps jumps up on down on his cock.

As she does so, her boobs too move, bouncing up and down with her every movement and Harry reaches with one hand, capturing one of her nipples between his fingers as he tweaks left and right before letting it go, watching her skin prickle at the touch.

“Shit, y’feel amazing, just wanna keep you forever,” he groans, low and delirious, fingernails digging into her waist as he thrusts into her, “So fuckin’ tight around me...so tight and snug. I want you- want this everyday. Wanna be able to touch you, kiss that little face everyday, fuck this beautiful pussy...so good, darling, you’re so fuckin’ good, letting me fuck that sweet cunt in the backseat, hm? Are you good,” he breathes her name into her mouth, then bites her bottom lip, earning a gasp from her when his thrusts become particularly rough. “Are you a good girl?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I’m good, I’m so good, please- I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fucking cum please keep fucking me, keep fucking me hard, Harry- keep going,” she speeds up her movements, Harry’s cock sliding in and out of her as wet, dirty sounds fill the car and he curses under his breath, hips lifting off the seat to meet her strokes.

“Are you close?” He manages to ask, a low grunt in his voice.

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she brings one hand down to her pussy and begins rubbing her clit, moaning when she touches the little nub and then, with her other hand, she reaches for Harry’s face, thumb stroking the side of the smooth skin before she places it on his bottom lip and presses hard, making him part his mouth. She pushes it in, eyes lulling shut at the feeling of his warm tongue as he sucks on her thumb, hips continuing their movements as he fucks her cunt with quick, rough thrusts.

When she opens her eyes, Harry’s watching her, sweat glistening on his forehead and she brings her finger down to where Harry’s cock meets her warmth and rubs the top of his cock, moaning when she feels the vein there. She brings it up to her clit again, all wet and warm, and she rubs harder with rough strokes as Harry juts his hips forward a few more times. “I’m gonna cum, fuck- I’m gonna fuckin’ cum, baby,” his grip tightens on her waist and she places her hands on his shoulder, squeezing there.

“Come on me, I want it on my tits,” she mutters, fingernails digging into the smooth skin of his shoulders and he lets out a grunt, pulling out quickly as she gets down, Harry’s legs parting immediately so she can get between them.

And she does, gets on her knees between Harry’s parted legs as he takes the condom off, hissing at the feeling as he tosses it somewhere on the floor, and he begins stroking his now-wet cock as she thumbs at her nipples, kneading her boobs before pushing them together. His wrist works harder and quicker at the sight and he finally comes undone, his warm cum spilling onto her boobs, decorating her soft flesh with white stripes and she looks down, watching with sparkling eyes.

“God, fuck,” he breathes, letting his head tilt back, “You’re something else, y’know that?”

She hums, sending him a grin as he gives himself three more lazy strokes before he lets go of his cock and watches the spattered cum against her skin separate with the movement when she lets them go.

“Got some on your top, sorry, love.”

She looks down, then swipes a thumb across her skin and brings it up to her mouth. Pushing it in, she sucks around her digit as she tastes the salty-sour taste and Harry watches, all wrecked and fucked out.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You’re so naughty...come up here,” his ring-clad fingers reach for her wrist and he helps her sit next to him.

He reaches the little pocket behind one of the seats, taking out some tissues as she watches him take out a few and clean her up as much as he can. Then their eyes meet, both sleepy and wrecked, and he lifts his hand up to her cheek, stroking it, and she leans into the touch, making him smile. “You’re lovely,” he mumbles, hand still on her cheek.

“You’re lovelier.”

He chuckles as she fixes her top, “You really are. Really lovely.”

“Stop it, I’m not good with compliments.”

“Well,” he shrugs, reaching for his trousers on the front seat, “I said what I said. You hungry? Thirsty?”

“I’m kinda thirsty. Aren’t you?”

As they lean against the bonnet of Harry’s car, now parked outside a McDonald’s, there’s a comfortable silence between them as they sip their waters, bodies close to each other, close enough for Harry to smell his faint cologne on her skin.

“You cold still?” He turns to her as she takes a bite of her chocolate muffin, and he follows as a few crumbs land on her chest.

“I’m good. Feel very warm...ed up,” she chuckles, thumbing at the corners of her mouth.

Harry groans, nudging her with his shoulders and she nudges back, harder, and he gasps, “Oi, be nice. I’m feeding you.”

“Soz. Guess I owe you like...what is it, a fiver?”

“You’re a very mean girl.”

“I’m the nicest. I’m good,” she gives him a grin, earning another eye roll from him as she takes another sip of her water before placing it on the floor, “Seriously though, thanks for the muffin.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m kinda bummed you turned down the nuggets but…maybe next time?”

“Next time?” She asks, crossing her arms, trying to warm herself up despite her promise from earlier.

“Well,” he clears his throat, hand going up to his necklace, “I’d love to see you sometime. Again. Preferably for longer than an hour and...you know, just us two? Hanging out?”

She smiles and leans forward, taking him by surprise when she presses their lips together. It’s a sweet, slow kiss, and his hands grab the back of her neck, pressing their faces closer as they kiss. Her hands find his waist and she gets on her feet, coming to stand between his legs without breaking their kiss, and she loops her arms around his neck, smiling when he moans at the feeling of her fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

He tastes the muffin, the chocolate, and himself, and as foolish as it sounds, he wishes there was a way to be closer to her somehow, closer than they already are at this moment. She pulls away, their foreheads pressing together as they smile at each other.

Harry scrunches his nose and smiles, bringing it forward so their noses touch, “What was that for?” He whispers, hands tight around her waist as he hugs her closer.

“Just felt like it...just felt like kissing you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like kissing you. I liked kissing you a lot tonight.”

He smiles, nose booping against hers once again, “I liked kissing you a lot too. I’d like to kiss you a lot tomorrow. And maybe the day after that.”

“That’s fine by me. You can kiss me tomorrow...and the day after that,” she whispers, pressing their bodies together.

Harry closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as she watches with curious gaze, eyes crinkling with a smile.

“What are you doing,” she whispers, and he shushes her, smiling when he opens his eyes to find her staring with her eyebrows raised, “What are you doing?” She asks again and he squeezes her waist, forehead pressing against her once again and he leans in closer to press a tiny kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“I’m listening,” he whispers, lips almost touching hers as he speaks.

“Listening? What are you listening to?”

He strokes her cheek, “A song.”

She raises her eyebrow again, “What song? I can’t hear it. Are you- you’re not actually serious, are you?”

“Ssh, it’s a song. Listen,”

“Har-ry,” she groans, pressing her forehead on the crook of his neck, “What is it?”

Harry smiles, arms hugging her closer as she presses a tiny kiss to the side of his neck, “Aubade.”

SEND ME YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT AUBADE AND PLEASE REBLOG THE FICS YOU’VE READ AND ENJOYED TO SUPPORT AND MOTIVATE WRITERS <3

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n

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uelden · 3 years

Text

Vanity Fair interview translated

Just a side note before the actual translation; I don't know why, but instead of reporting the full questions and answers in full as she should, the journalist decided to report only summarized fragments of what Måneskin said and patch these fragments up into messy clusters. She also worded a couple phrases in a very confusing way (and yes, she's fully Italian). In short, she did quite a poor job, so the final shape of the interview is not that good. I didn't expect top-tier journalism from Vanity Fair but ffs. You'll see what I mean.

I translated it as it is, adding just a couple footnotes to give you insight on Italian pop culture references.

Translation under the cut

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

by Lavinia Farnese, 09 June 2021

"True justice is being judged for what you do and not for what you are." The ones who are convinced of this are Damiano, Victoria, Ethan and Thomas who, by being the emblem of a generation that is finally free, refuse labels and conformism. In life, in love and on the stage. Where, maybe precisely because of this, they're winning everything

With the still unexpected (first place at Sanremo Festival) and the incredible (triumph at Eurovision) in their eyes, Måneskin are on the sofa of the house-studio they rented - to resume writing songs and rehearsing them - like you are after a won battle: lying in a calm and unreal silence, alert and a bit irreverent, happy.

In the garden there's the tennis table and the pool, the light of summer when it's starting and calming the country all around, and it filters inside from the large windows, and it goes onto the shining black of Ethan's hair, which blends with Thomas' eye shadow and the butterfly he has tattooed oh his naked forearm, which completes the picture of Victoria's golden crucifix hanging between neck and tank top and ends on the black nail polish of Damiano's stretched hands.

It's a human fresco, a Theatre of wrath [translator's note: "Teatro d'ira"] - to call it with the title of their latest album, a platinum record already - where their flaunted 20 years of age, their irregular femininity and virility are grown into proud and challenging custom, a pop glam rock generational manifesto of hard-earned liberties in a finally-unconditional expression of the self.

To watch them from any angle and from another age is to think that a great love will be born in those who'll understand: this new way of being in the world, the true and sovereign realm they hold where "diversity=exceptionality", the power of the artistic and cultural revolution of which they are healthy carriers in establishing in all lyrics and gestures the right to live according to one's own nature past the "people (who) talk, the people (who) unfortunately talk, and don't know what the fuck they're talking about." [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

We go where we're afloat, where the air isn't gone. [tn: journalist's own variation on "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

Miley Cyrus says hi – The numbers of a phenomenon

"The streams of Zitti e buoni are growing by the second, and they bring us above Muse, at the top of English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. Followers almost tripled, in the post-Rotterdam period (from 1,4 to 3,3 millions, ed.) Contagious and universal folly: t-shirts and merchandising sold out in 10 minutes. Like the records, the tickets for a tour that keeps adding dates and expanding over geographic maps. They're contacting us even from some festivals were The Rolling Stones went." Thomas

"After the pretextual controversy over cocaine that France built against us, later disproven by my drug test, some graffiti popped up in Spain depicting me as a “No drugs” poster guy. Some tweets made us laugh: "Congratulations, Italy! I've never been more certain that four people have had sex with each other." Miley Cyrus started following us -You're great. -You guys are greater." Damiano

From the garage to the stars – Story of a flight

"It was only 2016, and we played in restaurants, in the streets, in via del Corso. Damiano without even a microphone, Thomas' guitar with wonky strings, Ethan was drumming on a cajón. During Rome highschools' sit-ins (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first confirmations and half-hours of celebrity, playing among those who criticized us and those who went "wow they're really cool." One of the rare times when they would have paid us – 50 euros each – we gave the money to the next band in the lineup so that they would make us play in their spot, later in the day, when there would have been more people. We had already realized how things worked. Visibility mattered more than money. And we still think that." Victoria

The intimacy of rock – Choice of a genre

"Music allows us the miracle of extending to others some very personal and private topics, sometimes even difficult and thorny ones. They are and they remain deeply your own, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage that is alike a delivery, they find a place in you as well, a processing of them. You overcome them, you accept them. One second it's something aggressive, the next it's a ballad. Cathartic». Damiano

Against panic – The stage as therapy

"I've suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it's an issue I've worked on thanks to a psychotherapy course, my friends and my family. Playing helped me in not letting myself be paralyzed by my fears, not making myself limited in my private and professional life. I've learned to accept, to live with this side of myself. I don't hide it. I don't feel ashamed of it." Victoria

Analysis as necessity – Relying on someone saves you

"This belief that only madmen go to the psychologist is a widespread ignorance. No-one's born learned. [tn: common Italian saying] And it's often hard to understand the very reason why we're here, let alone the origin and direction of our desires. It's a long and legitimate journey towards lucidity, a kind of backing to become transparent." Damiano

Being out of our minds – But different from them [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

"When you feel a strong passion towards something that is not a canonical job but an artistic language, that already puts you on a level of anomaly, which is not superior or inferior to other people, but it puts you in the position of the one who breaks the mold and also works at a loss, the one who sustains great risks while trying to do something that who knows if it will take you anywhere. "Why do it if it doesn't pay?". You want to give this dream of yours an aesthetic, but it becomes "You're dressing so weird! You must be gay!" - now that I'm 22 I laugh about it, but when I was 17 it had an effect on me, too." Damiano

The beauty of uniqueness – Of believing in it and defending it

"And I mean, at the end of the day if we're all different it's not because we want be alternative but because, really, no-one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty." Ethan

Fluid sexuality – Pride is freedom

"Heels for men that like themselves in them, kisses among ourselves, we have an open, extended mind, and we're proud of it. The horizons become vast, past the oppression of conservative families. With the information on the web knowledge becomes greater and with it the possibility that minorities will be less and less minorities, because the majority will be less of a majority. This way we'll make insults and bullying grow quieter. If social media get to a village of 50 souls and reveal to a girl who's afraid of the dark that someone has felt her same fear, then there's no reason to give a name to that fear, to mark it with labels which also limit and restrict. Definitions always had this effect on me. You shouldn't even consider the gender when judging someone, let alone their orientation." Victoria

Sexism – A culture to be dismantled

"Emma [tn: Emma Marrone, Italian singer] drops the bomb: “At Eurovision when I was there they massacred me for a pair of shorts, while they said nothing to Damiano – bare-chested and in heels.” The easy judgment against women is more fierce, constant, debasing (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool while Vic is a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader while Vic is despotic and a pain in the ass who reached success because she's hot.) As a male I'm privileged, the abuse I get is not comparable to those a woman has to live through, the comments over my aesthetic are centered only on my aesthetic and don't insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thought in a systematic way. It happened though to find myself standing with a woman who while pulling me to herself to take a selfie, started licking my face out of the blue... I mean, what the hell do you want? Who asked you? Consent exists, and it's due." Damiano

Grow yourself – The only commandment

"To me conformism is the opposite of education [tn: could also mean "politeness"] and is the asphyxia of expression. I fortunately never endured heavy bullying, heavy enough for the the judgement of others to change me. But the mold of the small crumbs of bullying I got and of the kind of aggression that scars is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and likes dolls you have to let me do what I like. I was a kid who wanted to keep his hair long and played with Barbie. As a teen, my friends looked at my hair: " You have to find a girl with short hair to be at your side." My grandparents took away my dolls: "Stop it, they're not for you." Ethan

"When I was six I was already sick of them, the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things that were typically defined as girly, and all around me they mocked me because I went skateboarding, I played soccer, I didn't wear skirts, I was giving myself the chance to be as I wished. I endured it a little, I suffered a little, but I had courage, and now thanks to that courage I know that I could have gotten even much more hurt, otherwise I would have left to others the most important choice: the one about myself." Victoria

Love in progress – Music, girlfriends

"I've been married to music for the last 20 years. I can't wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary." Ethan

"Everyone makes their own experiences, sometimes it goes well, sometimes it goes wrong, but it's always not anybody's business." Thomas

"When I first felt feelings and attraction towards a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage of going beyond the limitations I had put for myself. For society being heterosexual is the norm and so you often define yourself in that way automatically, depriving yourself of the freedom to live many shades and faces of love. Once I overcame the initial insecurity of having to call into question my certainties I've lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone." Victoria

"I had paparazzi at my door every day and night. So, after four years of relationship, I revealed her name. I still have paparazzi at my door every day and nigh, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore." Damiano

The worth of the group – Phenomenology of protection

"The true engagement though, the true family is among ourselves, our band. We've believed in it since day zero, even before we called ourselves Måneskin (Moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon on the flier for the first concert we ever did. We share everything, even the pain for the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because of racism. [tn: I think the journalist asked them their opinion about Seid Visin's death, which was a current events topic in Italy, and then pasted it syntaxically in the middle of Thomas' answer, which was not a great move] A group is what we all should be: stay united and not back down an inch in the face of oppression that is generated by a distorted view of diversity." Thomas

I'm not of the right age – Like Gigliola [tn: Gigliola Cinquetti won Eurovision with her song "Non ho l'età", which means "I'm not of the right age"]

"Before you the only one who won both Sanremo and Eurovision on the same year was Cinquetti (1964). If there's anything I feel I'm not of the right age for? No, honestly no. Maybe having children. Regarding children I'll be honest: I'm not of the right age." Damiano

Having touched the sky – The fears that remain

"We're more than inside the dream, we're in the conquered dream. When you fly high there's the risk of plummeting and hurting yourself, but we'll work hard not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - a bit pretentiously - reassures us rather than scaring us." Damiano

#maneskin #måneskin #vanity fair #italian #translation

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mistressemmedi · 3 years

Text

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

Greetings from Miley Cyrus - phenomenal numbers.

The streams of Zitti e Buoni are growing by the second, and ahead of Muse, on the top of the English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. We almost tripled followers after Rotterdam (from 1.4 to 3.3 million, ed). Contagious and universal madness: T-shirts and merchandise sold out in 10 minutes. Like records, tickets for a tour that adds dates and expands on maps. They are even looking for us in festivals where the Rolling Stones have played. - Thomas

After the whole cocaine scandal that was started against us from France, which was later denied by my drug test, in Spain there people have been making murals with my face saying "No drugs". Some tweets made us laugh: «Congratulations, Italy! I have never been so sure that four people have fucked each other ". Miley Cyrus started following us. "You are great". “You are more” . - Damiano

From rags to riches - what a story

It was only 2016, and we were playing in restaurants, on the streets, in via del Corso (famous street in Rome). Damiano without a microphone, Thomas's guitar with broken strings, Ethan drummed on a cajón. At the occupations of the high schools in Rome (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first gigs and half an hour of fame, between those who criticized us and those who said "these guys are so cool". One of the rare times in which they offered to pay us to play - 50 euros each - we offered that money to those after us, in exchange for the chance to play during their time slow, as we knew there would have been a bigger crowd. We already understood then how it worked. That visibility was worth more than the money. We still think so ». - Victoria

The intimacy of rock - Choice of a genre

Music allows is this miracle which allows one to talk about very personal and private topics, even difficult and delicate ones. They are and remain deeply yours, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage which is like a delivery, they also find their place in you, their elaboration. They are overcome, they are accepted. One moment it feels aggressive, one moment later a (soft) ballad. It's very cathartic. - Damiano

Against panic - The stage as therapy

I have suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it is a problem that I have worked on thanks to a course of psychotherapy, to my friends and family. Playing has helped me not to let myself be paralyzed by my fears, not to be limited in my private and professional life. I have learned to accept, to live with this side of me. I don't hide it. I no longer feel ashamed. - Victoria

This belief that only crazy people go to the psychologist is widespread ignorance. Nobody is born learned. And it is often difficult to understand why we are here, let alone the derivation and direction of our desires. It is a long and legitimate journey towards one's clarity. - Damiano

Essere fuori di testa – Ma diversi da loro (Be out of your mind - But different from them)

Already feeling a strong passion for something that is not a 'regular' profession but an artistic language, it puts you on a level where you're an anomaly, and while you're neither superior nor inferior to others, it places you in the condition of what breaks the mold but you're also being at a loss, leaving it to you to be bold and to take risks, hoping that they will pay off and land you somewhere. "What good is it if you don't stand out on your own?". You want to give it an aesthetic to your artistic dream, but to others it boils down to " You dress differently! You must be gay! ”, I'm 22 now and it makes me laugh, but at 17 it had an effect on me too. - Damiano

The beauty of being unique - Of believing in that and defending it

After all, we are all different not because we want to be alternative but because really no one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty. - Ethan

Fluid sexuality - Pride is freedom

We appreciate heels on men, we kiss each other, we have an open, extended mind, and we are proud of it. The horizons become vast, beyond the oppression of conservative families. With information on the web, knowledge is enriched and with it the possibility that minorities will be fewer and fewer, because majorities will be fewer and fewer. This will lower the volume to insults and bullying. If social networks can reach a village of 50 souls to reveal to someone, who is afraid of the darkness, that someone has felt that same fear.. There is no longer the need to give it a name, to define that "something" to fear, to brand it with labels that only limit you. Definitions have always had this effect on me. Gender should not even be considered in a person's judgment. Let alone orientation ". - Victoria

Sexism - A culture to be dismantled

Emma (Italian singer) dropped the bomb:" When I went to Eurovision, they insulted me over a pair of shorts. Damiano - half naked and in heels - was never criticized ". The judgment against women is constant, ferocious, and demeaning (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool but Vic a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader she is domineering and pain in the ass, who is successful because only because of her looks [and not the hard work she puts in]). As a male I am privileged, the harassment I suffer is not comparable to that experienced by a woman, the comments on my aesthetics are focused only on my aesthetics and do not insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thinking in a systemic way. But I did find myself in a situation, out of nowhere, with someone who, pulling close to her for a selfie, started licking my face ... "What do you want, did you ask me?" Consent exists, and it is a must ». - Damiano

To grow as a person - The only rule to follow

For me, to conform is the total opposite of educating oneself, and the asphyxiation of one's expression (of freedom). Fortunately, I did not suffer heavy bullying, to the point where I felt I needed to change to adapt to how others saw me. But the matrix of who I am and the aggression that marks me is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and loves dolls, then allow me the freedom to do so. I used to be a kid who wanted long hair and played with Barbies. My friends, as a teenager, looked my long hair and teased me: "You have to find yourself a girl with a short hair to make up for it". My grandparents took the dolls away from me and said: “Stop it, they're not for you” ». - Ethan

“I was six and I already could not tolerate the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things typically defined as feminine as a child, and they made fun of me for skating, for playing soccer, for not wearing skirts, for giving myself the chance to be as I wanted to be. I suffered a little, as I was bullied, but I had courage to stay true to myself, and today thanks to that courage I know that I could have been much more hurt, or I would have risked leaving the most important decision to others: the one about being just me". - Victoria

Love - music and girlfriends

I've been married to music for the past 20 years. I cannot wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary. - Ethan

Everyone goes through their own experiences, sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, but it's never other people's business." - Thomas

When, for the first time, I developed feelings and attraction for a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage to go beyond the limitations I had imposed on myself. For society, being heterosexual is the norm and therefore often one automatically pegs himself in that way, giving up the freedom to experience many different shades and facets of love. Once I got over the initial insecurity of having to question one's own certainties, I lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone. - Victoria

I had paparazzi under my house morning and night. So, after four years of relationship, I finally revealed her name. I still have the paparazzi under my house morning and night, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore. - Damiano

The value of the group - Protecting each other

But the real relationship, the real family, is between us. Our band. We believed in it from the first day, even before calling ourselves Måneskin (moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon, on the poster for our first concert. We share everything, even the pain of the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because he was a victim of racism. Being a group is what we should all do together: stay united and not retreat in the slightest in the face of abuses generated by a distorted vision of someone "being different|. - Thomas

Non ho l’età – like Gigliola (It references Gigliola Cinquetti who won both Sanremo and Eurovision with her song "Non ho l’età" which translates to Not old enough)

Before us, the only one to win Sanremo and Eurovision together was Gigliola Cinquetti (in 1964). Is there is something for which I feel I am not yet old enough for? No, honestly no. Maybe for kids. I'll be honest, I'm not enough to be a dad. - Damiano

Reached the sky - What fears still remain

We are more than in the dream, we have conquered the dream. To fly high this high, there is the risk is to fall and get hurt, but we will try not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - somewhat presumptuously - reassures us rather than frighten us ". - Damiano

(ORIGINAL INTERVIEW IN ITALIAN)

[Please note that I have changed some words or structure sentence, trying to make it so that the interview made more sense lol - I skipped the first two paragraphs, which was basically the interviewer gushing over how pretty the band is lmao (relatable).

Any mistakes in the translation are sorely mine, nothing was proofread, so apologies in advance]

#maneskin #ethan torchio #damiano david #victoria de angelis #thomas raggi #i'm off to drink some wine lol

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howlingday · 3 years

Text

Jaune: (Walking through the forest with Yang, Looks at a wanted poster on a tree) Hey, Yang, who's that? She kind of looks like you.

Yang: That's Raven Branwen, the supposed "Bandit Queen" around here. Don't bother getting involved with her. She'd just make you look stupid. (Sighs, Looks away) It wouldn't be the first time.

Jaune: ...Right. (Touches her hand) Yang, you know I love you, right?

Yang: ...Yeah, I know. (Holds his hand, Doesn't look at him) Even if you don't deserve someone like me.

Jaune: (Pulls his hand away) What do you mean? Are you saying I'm not good enough for you?

Yang: (Looks at him) What?! No! I know we've only been dating for a few months, but it's not like that! If anything, it's the other way around!

Jaune: (Angry) So you're saying you're too good for me now?!

Yang: No! Argh! You are so annoying right now! What I meant was- (A loud thud is heard nearby, Gunfire explodes in the distance) What was that?

From the treeline, a band of armed thugs barrel out waving their weapons around, hooting and hollering, roaring and barking as they circle the couple. A tree falls, it's trunk sliced clean as a woman with black hair and red eyes walks forward. She sheathes her sword as she sways her hips. She looks exactly like the woman in the wanted poster, becauseshe is the woman from the wanted poster; Raven Branwen.

Raven: Don't waste your breath with her. (Stops in front of the couple) She never understood true power, even when it stared her in the face.

Jaune: Wait, you're-

Raven: Raven Branwen, Bandit Queen. (Bandits roar and cheer until they're silenced by Raven's extended hand, She leans forward into Jaune's face) And you are just my type.

Jaune: (Blushing) Uh, you look just like my girlfriend.

Raven: Well, she is my daughter.

Yang: Stop leering at her, you perv! And you, I thought you didn't want anything to do with me!

Raven: I didn't, but when Tai told me about this boy you're dating, I had to see for myself. He reminds me a lot of him. (Licks her lips) I bet he tastes the same, too. Shay! Vernal!

Shay & Vernal: Yes, ma'am!

Raven: Make sure she doesn't interfere. I want to play with my food right now

Shay & Vernal: Yes, ma'am!

Raven: What's your name, handsome?

Jaune: Uh, Jaune. Jaune Arc.

Raven: Mm, short, sweet, and rolls off the tongue. I bet the ladies love it.

Jaune: Uh...

Raven: If you didn't hear, I'm Raven Branwen. But, the only thing you'll call me from now on is either ma'am or mommy.

Jaune: (Chuckling) That's funny. I like you, Ms. Branwen!

Yang: (Thinking) What is she doing?! Is she... trying to steal Jaune?! (Shakes her head) Whatever! Jaune loves me! He won't surrender to her! ...But we did have that fight just now. He might actually leave me for her. ...No! I just have to put my faith in Jaune! I know he'll stay with me!

Raven: Now, Jaune, what say we have some fun?

Raven unsheathes Omen, taking a combative stance in front of Jaune, who, in turn, unsheathes Crocea Mors. Raven swings at Jaune, holding back her strength as she tests Jaune's skill. Soon, Jaune is beading with sweat as Raven lazily parries and swings at him. Jaune slips into her guard, forcing her to jump back. She chuckles as she watches him pant.

Raven: Not bad, boy. Not bad at all.

Jaune: This... This is too much! I can see why you're the Bandit Queen now.

Raven: What are you staring so hard at me for, boy? You want me? Here, (Takes off her armor, Her perfect-fit clothing underneath leaves nothing to the imagination) have a closer look.

Jaune: (Stammers, Looks to Yang)

Yang: Stop showing off like that, Mom! Why couldn't you just stay out of my love life like dad? In fact, why don't you just stay out of my life?!

Shay: Hey, kid, settle down!

Vernal: Queen Raven ordered us to keep you in place, so that's what we're going to do.

Yang: And having your goons keep me from kicking your butt?! You're the worst!

Raven: Your boyfriend doesn't seem to think that. Just look at how he's panting just from being near me. (Jaune gulps) Tell me, Jaune. What do you like most about me? Is it my lovely hair? My intoxicating scent? Or is something else catching your eyes?

Jaune: C-Can we go back to fighting, please?!

Yang: Why are you dodging the question, you creep?! (Thinking) I'm losing him. It's subtle, but... There's no doubt about it. It can't end like this. Not after everything we've been through!

Raven: Remember this, Jaune; there's a difference between a girl and a woman. Allow me to show you the difference.

Raven swings with more intent this time, forcing Jaune to block and dodge with more caution, as she now kicks at any opening she finds. Jaune slips into her guard again, forcing the two to lock blades. However, Raven takes advantage of this to blow a kiss at Jaune, who flinches and jumps away. Raven follows up with thrust, parry, and slice combination. Jaune noticed Raven switched to a two-handed style, and decided to respond in kind. The battle became more even as Raven began sweating from the effort she was putting in. Jaune leaped away, panting, and stuck his sword into the dirt.

Jaune: Okay, I'm done! I've had enough, Ms. Branwen!

Raven: Aw, what's the matter, baby. Are you losing focus from watching me move so gracefully? I'll bet you have so many nasty thoughts running through your head right now. (Rips open her shirt a little, revealing her cleavage) You want me so bad, don't you?

Yang: (Tears streaming from her eyes, Thinking) That's it. I've lost him. There's no way he doesn't want her after that. It's how she tricked Dad into loving her. (Crying) But, he can't just leave me for her! She just wants to use him as a plaything. If he left me, I at least want to be sure he'll be safe from any harm, but she... It's all my fault. All because of that stupid argument, he's going to leave me all alone!

Jaune: Ugh! Just shut the fuck up already!

Yang: Huh? (Realizes Jaune's holding her)

Raven: Excuse me?!

Jaune: I'm sick of hearing you talk! You're fucking weird, the way you talk to me makes me feel like a baby, and the fact you're putting down your own daughter just to impress a stranger like me, (Glares at Raven, Grinds his teeth) it makes me so fucking furious, I can't stand it! How could you say such foul shit about your daughter?! (Takes a deep breath, Holds Yang close) I love your daughter. I only love your daughter. I mean, yeah, you're attractive, with your nice-smelling hair and your curves and your swordplay, but that doesn't matter. But I wouldn't even be fawning over you if I knew how horrible you really were! (Feels Yang hugging him, Sighs) I'm sorry, baby. I just... I just got so upset when you said I wasn't good enough for you.

Yang: (Sniffs) I wasn't talking about you not being good enough; I was talking about me not being good enough for you. I got so worried that you'd abandon me, I couldn't bear it. I'm sorry it came out wrong to you. I just think you're so amazing, okay? You always rise up against any challenge, even when you know the odds aren't in your favor. You fought bullies, Grimm, my dad, and even the White Fang! You have so much confidence, I can't imagine why you would think you're not good enough! (Sobs) I love you, Jaune! I feel like if you left me, I would literally die!

Jaune: (Shushes her, Pets her hair) I love you, too, and I know what you mean. I feel like... It's like our souls are connected, you know? (Chuckles, Tear rolls down his eye) I'm sorry I'm so corny, and for our fight earlier.

Yang: (Chuckles) It's okay. I like us being corny, and I love that you can be so honest with me.

Jaune: (Chuckles, Kisses the top of her head) I'm so lucky I have you.

Raven: (Holding herself, Panting and squirming) Oh, this feeling~.

Jaune: (Looks up) Huh? (Looks over, Sees Raven half-naked and steaming with a dangerous aura) Uh...

Raven: Oh, Tai hasn't made me feel like this in such a long time~.

Yang: (Gulps) Raven?

Raven: But you, Jaune, (Lewd and wide smile, Sultrily chuckles) you're a whole different breed~! (Points Omen at him, Drooling) You're a man who knows how to put a bitch like me in her place and shows love to his girl after some tramp disses her! (She looks down, Hiding her face) It might be the bare minimum, but... (Looks up, Hungry eyes) I just have to have you! Now pick up the sword and listen carefully, because if you lose this fight, I'm going to make you my new slave! (Chuckles) Who knows? Maybe in a few years, you'll make for a fine bandit.

Shay: Wait, we used to be something before being bandits?

Raven: You can't refuse this, handsome, otherwise I'll kill Yang and give you no choice.

Jaune: Shit. Yang, this doesn't look good.

Yang: Hey, now, that's not the Jaune Arc I love! (Hands him Crocea Mors, Kisses his cheek) Kick her ass for me, okay, baby?

Jaune: (Takes Crocea Mors, Smiles) You got it, baby!

Vernal: Listen up, everyone! Our queen is about to go all out! The odds of her leaving us alive grow slimmer by the second! Know that all of you have been like family to me!

Shay: Even me?

Vernal: Shut up, Shay.

Raven: By the way, handsome, I don't want this to be over too soon, so keep that sword of yours in it's longsword form to keep it interesting. Because this shit's finna get nutty!

Raven wastes no time attacking Jaune, forcing him to block. He's pushed back several feet before side-stepping away. Raven continues until a red portal opens in her path, and she disappears into it. Jaune loses sight of her and barely has enough time to duck as she flies in from behind to strike. He rolls away, but Raven charges again, striking wildly with swings and thrusts. Jaune's muscles ache as he's forced to block and parry. Raven runs towards him again, disappearing into another portal. He looks behind, but doesn't see her. Yang warns him of the strike from above, and he leaps away in time. He notices a golden necklace on the ground, recognizing it from one of the bandits. Unfortunately, Raven was relentless as she continued her assault, and Jaune couldn't afford to stop and think. He decided to go on the offensive this time, clashing with her. When she was pushed back, he charged forward, but ran into her portal, and right into Vernal. The bandit lieutenant jumped away as Jaune thrusted, and he apologized as he she did. He turned in time to catch Raven's blade, but she disappeared as she retreated, using her portal repeatedly to confuse him. Jaune dropped his sword and stepped forward to the golden necklace. He tossed it into the air, forcing Raven to dive to him with her blade extended. She cackled with mad glee as she forced him to fall backwards, only to reel in pain when he kicked her in the face and away from Omen. Raven sprawled and climbed to her knees, looking at Jaune from the wrong end of her weapon.

Raven: (Panting) Jaune... That was... amazing... I feel so... exhilarated... You sapped me of all my juices. Or, well, at least half of my aura, anyways. I know you won, but couldn't you please reconsider and join my family?

Jaune: I don't want you! Damn! (Throws Omen aside) I'm with your daughter because I love her! I love her hair! I love her smell! I love her curves!

Raven: W-What are you saying?!

Jaune: I'm saying I love big-tittied bitches! Mostly your daughter, but the others are cool, too, I guess!

Yang: (Snickers, Covers her mouth)

Jaune: Also, you just let "your family" almost die in our fight! Who the hell does that?!

Raven: (Scoffs) The family knows the tribe is nothing without their queen. If they were worthy, they would be willing to die for me. (Stands up, Shakes her head) Such a sentimental fool. No wonder you're together. (Picks up Omen, Walks away with her tribe) You can have him, Yang.

Yang: ...Thank you, Raven.

Jaune: Wait, that's it?

Raven: Yeah, I don't need any bleeding hearts in my tribe. But you have my blessing, whatever that might mean to you. (Thinking) Fuck, now I'm thinking about him again. I should go chat with him. It has been a few months since our last "reunion."

#rwby #jaune arc #yang xiao long #raven branwen #shay d man #vernal #friday night funkin #mommy mearest hd #dragonslayer #tairaven

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jaskierswolf · 4 years

Note

Prompt: Geraskier modern au. Jaskier bringing Geralt home on holiday. They’re pretending to date so Jaskier’s parents won’t bombard him asking when he’ll find someone and when they’ll have grandkids. Maybe even a fake engagement? They’re both pining without even realizing and maybe a mistletoe kiss on Christmas Eve will open their eyes. (geraskier-trashh)

Dani <3 I always seem to vibe with your prompts! Once again this is 2.3k. I didn’t get the mistletoe in but... well. I’m pretty happy with it. Fake dating at Christmas!! 💖

Warnings: Some hurt/comfort feels, I’m pretty sure everyone cries at one point or another, lots of pining. ______________

Jaskier and Geralt stood in the doorway to Jaskier’s old childhood room. One single bed was pushed up against the wall, posters of Jaskier’s old favourite bands plastered around the room. Jaskier was gripping Geralt’s hand too tightly, having not let go from when he’d dragged Geralt upstairs to get away from the interrogation of his family. Geralt let out a long sigh and pulled them both into the room, dumping his rucksack on the ground in the corner.

“Ah, I. umm…. I seem to have miscalculated,” Jaskier stammered.

“No shit.”

“I thought, you know. Huge mansion!” He flung his arms out as if to make a point. “I didn’t expect that we’d have to… you know.”

“It didn’t occur to you that it might look strange if we don’t share?” Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jaskier huffed and put his hands on his hips, tossing his fringe from his eyes. Geralt was moving around the tiny room, his banged up bass case finding space next to Jaskier’s violin, his black hoody thrown over the old desk chair in the corner. Jaskier felt a tug at his heartstrings as he watched Geralt carve out a space for himself in Jaskier’s old bedroom, just like he’d carved out a Geralt sized space in Jaskier’s hearts oh so many years ago. Jaskier flexed his fingers and pulled his necklace pendant into his mouth, this was such a bad idea. What had he been thinking?

It was own bloody fault for lying to his parents for years behind Geralt’s back. It had just been so hard with their constant pressure to find a partner whilst he was pining helplessly over his best friend, so he’d lied and for five years he’d managed to find excuses for avoiding the family Christmas meet up. This year his luck had run out and he’d had to come clean to his friend. He’d thought Geralt was going to murder him at first, his face had gone bright red with rage and he’d not said a bloody word, which was just Geralt all over. Over a tense dinner of instant noodles and boxed wine, Geralt had muttered that he’d do it… and so, here they were.

“Yeah, well, I forgot.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “You forgot? That you’d told your parents that we’ve been dating for five years?”

“Six years… Our anniversary was two weeks ago,” Jaskier muttered, shuffling awkwardly on his feet and giving Geralt a sheepish smile.

“Our anniversary? For fuck’s sake, Jask.”

“I’m sorry! I meant to tell them we’d broken up but—”

“But what?”

“—but they always seemed so happy that I wasn’t alone, and to be honest it was nice.”

Geralt scoffed. “Nice?”

“Yeah,” Jaskier sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I. I didn’t feel so alone.”

Geralt sighed and pulled him into a hug. Jaskier buried his face in Geralt’s chest and whined. “You’re my best friend, Jask.”

Jaskier closed his eyes, grateful that Geralt couldn’t see his face. He could feel the lump in his throat, a dull never-ending ache in his chest. Best friend. That’s what they were, he should be thankful that Geralt allowed him that much, but fuck he loved him so damn much. No matter how much Jaskier flirted with Geralt, called him cute little nicknames, and practically admitted his love for his friend on a daily basis… Geralt never saw him as anything more than a friend, but god he drove Jaskier mad. He was always so damned thoughtful all the time, cooking dinner when Jaskier was at work even though Jaskier could never return the favour, hence the instant noodles for dinner, or letting Jaskier choose the film when he’d had a bad anxiety day, which happened more often than he liked to admit.

Geralt was his best friend, he was the bestest friend that anyone could ask for so really Jaskier couldn’t complain. He was just… hopelessly in love.

He laughed and pulled back from the hug. “Don’t you mean boyfriend?” He waggled his eyebrows and bopped Geralt’s nose.

“Hmm, fine, but we have got to break up by next year.”

Jaskier’s hand flew to his heart, gasping as he totally pretended to be completely heartbroken. There wasn’t an ounce of reality in the way his heart literally felt like it was shattering in a million pieces. He scoffed, covering up the way his hands were shaking by tugging at the edge of his jumper. “Fine, but I get to dump you.”

“Nope, it’s your mess. I’m breaking up with you,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier put his hands on his hips and glared at Geralt. “As if you would break up with this arse!” He laughed and turned to wiggle his butt at Geralt.

“I’ve seen better.”

Jaskier gasped and turned to poke Geralt in the chest. “Take that back!”

“Not going to happen.”

“Geralt!” Jaskier flung himself dramatically into Geralt’s arms, Geralt caught him as he always did, and Jaskier pouted up at him. “You’re mean.”

“Are you boys fighting already?”

Jaskier squeaked as Geralt dropped him to the floor. His mother was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed in front of her chest, a smirk on her face. “No. No no no. Of course not, nope. Geralt?”

“No, Mrs Pankratz.” Geralt pulled him to his feet and Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s waist, placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“All good here, mother!”

“Dinner’s ready, hurry up.”

“We’ll be there in just a jiffy!” Jaskier sang as he leant into Geralt’s side. As his mother’s footsteps faded off down the hall he reached up to whisper in Geralt’s ear, “Showtime, darling.”

Geralt groaned. “Fuck.” ________________

Dinner wasn’t going too badly. Luckily Geralt and Jaskier had been best friends for most of their lives so there wasn’t much they didn’t know about each other. Honestly the only thing really missing from their friendship to make it more of a traditionally romantic one was the snogging. They went out of friend dates all the time, they lived together, and in all honesty they loved each other. Jaskier just made sure to double the use of pet names in front of his family, and he allowed himself to touch Geralt as much as he wanted, which was pretty much always. They held hands on top of the table, awkwardly eating one handed. Jaskier brought Geralt’s knuckles to his lips in between main and dessert, winking at his friend. It was so fucking easy to believe this was real. For two days he was getting everything he ever wanted. He was going to be heartbroken when this was over.

Geralt flushed and growled under his breath before kissing Jaskier’s cheek, much to delight of Jaskier’s parents.

“Julian, you know we won’t be offended if you want to kiss your boyfriend properly?”

Jaskier’s heart sank and he gripped Geralt’s hand tighter. They hadn’t discussed this. They really should have discussed this, but Jaskier had assumed two days without kissing in front of his parents would have been fine. Of course, his mother would decide to be cool. “Mother, really?” He groaned and hid his face in Geralt’s arm.

“You’ve been dating for six years, Julian. Your father had proposed by then when we were dating,” his mother sighed and smiled ever so sweetly at his father. “Don’t be shy, honey.”

“Mother!” Jaskier whined.

Geralt cleared his throat and Jaskier gazed up at his friend. There was a mischievous glint in Geralt’s eyes that Jaskier did not like the look of. He shook his head slowly at Geralt but it was too late. “Actually, Mrs Pankratz. I umm… I did have something to ask Jaskier,”

“Geralt…”

“The umm… well I wrapped it, but I guess now is as good as ever,” Geralt stood up and pulled Jaskier into the living room, ignoring his protests. Geralt pulled a small wrapped box from the tree, kneeling at Jaskier’s feet as he hand him the box.

Jaskier’s eyes went wide… what the actual fuck was happening? Jaskier thought back to his Christmas list. It was mostly nerdy shit and stuff for his instruments… nerdy shit. “Oh bollocks!” He yelled as he remembered a very specific piece of costume jewellery he’d asked for.

Was Geralt about to fake propose using the ring… like… the ring… from Lord of the Rings? Oh god, he was going to die from embarrassment. Jaskier’s hands shook as he tore at the wrapping paper. The velvety box fell into his hands, the familiar Elvish inscription was pressed into the black velvet. He hid a laugh behind his hand as Geralt gently took the box and opened it. Jaskier barely heard the shrieks from his mother as Geralt winked at him.

“Jask, the last,” Geralt paused and scowled “six years of my life have been the happiest of my life.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier whined, his heart thumping in his chest despite the fact he knew it wasn’t real.

“I’m thankful that I finally stopped being afraid of what I felt, feel, for you, and umm, well asked you out,” Geralt licked his lips, he actually seemed nervous, which was utterly ridiculous. He was a better actor than Jaskier had anticipated. “Can’t imagine how different today would have been if I hadn’t made the choice that day, the choice to be brave instead of a coward.”

Jaskier couldn’t help but reach forward to cup Geralt’s cheek, his hand moving on its own accord. “You’re the bravest man I know.”

Geralt laughed bitterly. “Not always, but ah fuck, you distracted me.”

“Sorry?” Jaskier giggled. “Would it help if I said yes?”

“Yes,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier knelt down opposite Geralt. “Yes.”

And then they were kissing, because that was what you did when you got engaged, wasn’t it? Only they weren’t really engaged, they weren’t even dating. Tears streamed down Jaskier’s cheeks as he kissed his friend with all the feelings that he could never admit, holding Geralt’s face in his hands. They were both panting by the time they pulled apart. “I love you, dear heart.”

Geralt, to Jaskier’s surprise, was also crying. He smiled sadly back at Jaskier as he brushed the tears from Jaskier’s cheek. “I love you too, Jask.” And then he slipped the ring onto Jaskier’s finger.

Jaskier swallowed and bit back a sob. “Fuck.”

Geralt tilted his head and glanced towards the ceiling. Jaskier nodded, hugging his arms around his chest. “I think we need a moment alone,” Geralt muttered and scooped Jaskier up into his arms.

Jaskier mother, also crying because apparently Christmas Eve dinner was a disaster, nodded. “Take all the time you need, darlings."

Geralt nodded and Jaskier hummed pressing his face into Geralt’s neck, desperately trying not to lose his grip on reality. They weren’t engaged. The mantra ran through his head obsessively. One more day, they would exchange presents, maybe a standard kiss under the mistletoe and then by next year’s Christmas Geralt would have broken up with him, and Jaskier’s parents would be none the wiser that it had all been a ruse.

A ruse, an pretence, an act.

Only it wasn’t an act, not for him.

“Fucking shit balls,” He mumbled into Geralt’s shirt as his bedroom door was kicked open. Jaskier practically leapt from Geralt’s arms and into the mess of bedsheets, hiding from the love of his life and pseudo fiancé.

“Jaskier, I’m sorry. I took it too far.” Geralt mumbled, sitting down on the bed next to where Jaskier was curled into a ball.

“No,” Jaskier mumbled. “I just overreacted, I… ah fuck it. I wanted it to be real. I’m sorry!”

“You,” Geralt stammered. “You wanted it to be real?”

Jaskier laughed haughtily and threw off the covers, wiping his eyes and glaring at Geralt. “Of course I fucking did. I told my parents we were dating… for six fucking years!”

“And you never once mentioned any of this to me?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Because I couldn’t lose you!”

“I didn’t want to lose you either.”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide as he gaped at Geralt. “Hang on what? What does that mean? Geralt? Please do not tell me that means what I think it means!”

“I love you,” Geralt whispered “always have.”

“No, no no no!” Jaskier whined as his head hit the headboard. “Fuck.”

“Sorry.”

Jaskier laughed, the disbelief and sheer happiness in his heart overwhelming him. “Oh my fucking god, Geralt!” Geralt growled and stood up but Jaskier caught his hand. “Don’t you see?”

“No, care to let me into the joke?”

“We could have been dating for years!” Jaskier cried and then slapped a hand over his mouth, not wanting his parents to hear their argument. “This,” he waved his left hand at Geralt. “could have been real?”

Geralt frowned, his gaze flickering between Jaskier’s hand and his eyes. He sighed and a faint smiled graced his lips. “Maybe we should try dating first? Proposing on the first date is a bit much.”

Jaskier laughed and pulled Geralt into another kiss, his tears ones of happiness this time. He stroked Geralt’s cheek as they pulled apart. “What about the second date?”

“Jask,” Geralt groaned.

“Ok, the third date,” He laughed and Geralt shut him up with another quick kiss.”

“Your turn to propose,” Geralt mumbled against his lips as Jaskier slipped his hand up Geralt’s shirt.

“I don’t think I can beat proposing with the ring, dearest,” He giggled as Geralt pushed him back against the mattress, his nose running along Jaskier’s jaw.

“You’ll think of something.”

Jaskier grinned as Geralt’s lips crashed against his. He would think of something, something spectacular, but for now he was too busy kissing his boyfriend, grand marriage proposals would have to wait until next Christmas. They could make it a tradition. ________________ Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @scribblesonmapleleaves @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @ohheytheremiss @kueble @love-more-today-than-yesterday @kozkaboi @llamasdumpsterfire @skai6

#the witcher #modern au #geraskier #fake dating #christmas prompts #winter prompt #wolfie's witcher writing #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #suddenly-a-twilight-blog

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cullen-collective · 4 years

Note

do it. write it. do it

Say. Less.

There’s never anyone actually interesting in these chats.

There’s me, who actually wants to discuss music, the way it feels, the lyrics’ poetic meanings, the way the drums crash like they’re my own heartbeat. And then there’s guys who might want to discuss that, but are probably here for the other occupants of the forum: girls obsessed with band members. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have anything against them, and I fully understand geeking out over Pete Wentz (although I’ve always been more of a Stump girl) or Gerard Way or even Chester Bennington. I just keep having to switch to new forums when it’s clear that no one else wants to talk about the music, but instead have guys who claim to look like Adam Lazarra scam the email addresses and photos off those girls.

Which brings me here, to another new forum chat, scrolling through older posts about who drums harder: Travis Barker or Mike Kinsella, as the chat scrolls by on the right side of the screen. I was mindlessly scrolling, mentally agreeing or disparaging the opinions of other posters, too scared to comment. This site was pretty neat, and the account I’d had to create to post comments and chat had spaces for a list of my favorites, which I’d happily included. It also had a little bio, which I’d filled in with my name and age, as well as one of my favorite lyrics.

I kept one eye on the chat as it went, keeping up with the current discussion of how best to cut your bangs. I typed up a quick note that the best way to cut your bangs was to see a local hairdresser so you didn’t end up with Buffy season three bangs instead of the side-sweep you wanted.

Emo-ward: But is it really, truly in the spirit of punk rock if you don’t cut them yourself?

HellsBells: I think to be a real punk, you’d probably need to like different bands. To be alt, you can visit a salon or resign yourself to botched hair.

Emo-ward: Seems like the majority is going to choose the second option.

HellsBells: Well, sometimes we must suffer for the cause.

Emo-Ward wants to send you a private message. Accept. Decline.

I was stunned. No one ever requested me. My cursor hovered over “Accept”, my finger twitching. My mother, as scattered as she was, had always warned me about being too open online. What if this was like, a forty-five year old man who preyed on kids in chat rooms? What if it was a serial killer? What if it was someone from school trying to humiliate me? What if it was a kid from school who wanted to humiliate me and also did a little serial killing on the side?

Okay, I was being ridiculous. I knew nothing about this person. Hell, I hadn’t even looked at their profile. So I right-clicked the name in the chat and opened another window to his profile. Like mine, the profile had no picture, and instead had a graphic. It was Gerard Way but his hair had been edited to be bright green. I snorted, remembering my own, which was Britney Spears edited with a scene girl haircut that this chick in my Western Civ class had emailed to me as a joke after seeing the Ataris CD in my portable player. The name listed was Edward, the age as 16, and he had a lyric on his profile too.

“Watching from the floor.”

I recognized it, small as it was. It was from “Dear Maria, Count Me In”. I was a little surprised. Great song choice.

It seemed he wasn’t too sketchy.

I went back to the original page, steeled my nerves and hit “Accept.”

Emo-ward: Do you really have time in your veins?

My tongue pressed to the inside of my cheek. If this really was a sixteen-year-old boy, I was in trouble. He had just referenced the lyric in my bio, (from “Understanding In A Car Crash”: “It starts and stops and starts and stops again.”) and made it a joke. I had to one-up him.

HellsBells: Yes. I am also a pen.

Emo-ward: Where are you from, girl with time in her veins who is somehow also a pen?

I smiled at my screen. I couldn’t help it. He was kind of funny.

HellsBells: Forgive me, sir, if I’m not very specific. I’m from the Southwest. You?

Emo-ward: Well, miss, I will follow suit. I’m from the Northwest.

There was something about the way he wrote that made me want to trust him. Maybe it was that we had similar chat styles. Although… My mother had always said I talked like I was sixty. What if he was sixty?! Edward is an old man's name.

HellsBells: You kind of talk like an old guy, you know that, right?

Emo-ward: That’s because I’m 104.

HellsBells: Wow. You use the internet pretty well for a senior citizen.

Emo-ward: They had us take a class. So, what’s your favorite album right now?

I smiled. Funny, and hopefully not an old guy.

HellsBells: Will you stop talking to me if I say Take This to Your Grave?

Emo-ward: Only if you stop talking to me for saying mine is Meteora.

HellsBells: Only if you tell me your favorite song off the album is Numb. That’s where I draw the line.

Emo-ward: While that song isn’t my favorite, it’s pretty good. Anyway, the actual favorite is Somewhere I Belong.

I thought about that for a minute. I liked that song, but I hadn’t listened to it a lot. I’d have to give it another go. I had Meteora around here somewhere. I found the album in my bookshelf, put it in my portable player, and put the headphones on. I skipped to the right track, and let it play while I answered.

HellsBells: Not that you asked, but mine is Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes.

Emo-ward: Aggressive. I like it.

I burst out laughing. Out loud. In my house. On a school night. At eleven.

“Bella?” my mom called from across the hall. “Are you on the computer?”

Shit. “Uh… no?”

I heard Mom start giggling. “Go to bed, kid!”

“Okay!” I grimaced at the screen. No way I was ever going to hear from this guy again. But… I had to try, right? He was funny, and he had great taste in music.

HellsBells: Well, grandpa, if you can get the orderlies at the nursing home to let you use the computer on Friday, I’ll be here. Until then, I’m not an adult and have to deal with things like school nights.

Emo-ward: I’m sorry about that. I never sleep, so my school nights are exactly like regular nights. I’ll be here.

I shook my head at that, holding in a giant smile. You know what, fuck it, I let the smile loose. It wasn’t like he could see me. And I let “Somewhere I Belong” play on repeat until I fell asleep.

#twilight #the twilight saga #edward cullen #bella swan #fic #my writing #thanks so much for the permission #like for part two

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writella · 4 years

Text

Around and Around and Around

Pairing: Luke Patterson x reader

Requested? Yes! My first finished request! Thank you for the idea anon. Original ask: Could you do a present day... Alive!Luke x reader fic where him and his girlfriend (the reader) are just trying to spend some alone time together at one of Carrie’s parties? (I’m so sorry I didn’t make it Carrie’s party anon, I forgot.)

Summary: It’s a New Years Eve bash! The gangs all there, but the only thing Luke wants to do is spend time with his girlfriend. Unfortunately though, his friends constantly need their help which causes them to lose each other in the crowd. Around and around and around they constantly go... Can Luke meet up with her in time for a New Years Kiss? We shall see, my friends. We shall see.

Word Count: :)

Warnings: Kissing? Two curse words? I don’t think any of that counts. Oh! Over explaining? Neediness? An over use of the same words?

A/N: Hello everyone! IT IS A CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEARS MIRACLE! I finally finished a new fic. I really hope you enjoy it. I think I did a little too much, but this request just got my head turning and included the whole gang, so I just couldn’t help but give them all their own little moments! I had fun and I hope you do too. I’m taking you on a bit of a rollercoaster here, I will admit, but don’t worry though, I think I gave it a good ending.... You tell me.

“Y/N!”

“Y/N?”

“Luke?”

“Where are you?”

“Luuuke!”

“Luke!

“LUKE, COME LOOK!”

“Y/N, I need you.”

“Her shoe broke!”

“Luke, did you see his dog? It’s so cute! And he even likes pizza!”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to give pizza to a dog, Reg.”

“Well it wasn’t chocolate… Wait where’d he go? Wanna help me find him?”

“Well can she wear yours? Do you have an extra pair?”

“Where are they?”

Hey, Luke?!”

“Y/N?!”

Boom the bedroom door slammed shut, and an out of breath Luke and his girlfriend, Y/N, filed in with a sigh: “Finally,” Luke said, his eyebrows and the corner of his lips rising with excitement. Throughout the hour and forty minus they had spent at the party thus far, they had found corners, almost empty areas, and even tall trees in the backyard, but none were as private as this.

Still standing close to the door, Y/N looked around the walls that glittered with posters of rock bands and athletes. “Do you really think we should be in here? It is the birthday person’s room. Maybe we should be nice and leave it alone.”

“When you throw a party you get what you get,” Luke reasoned, a hint of humor tracing throughout his words. “People travel, and we’re not going to do anything crazy on the kid’s blue basketball sheets if that’s what you’re worried about.” He ended, teasing Nick, the party host.

She softly gave him an ‘alright,’ waiting for him to make his next move. Though they had been thrown around by their friends plenty of times by now tonight, the night was still young, and she knew Luke was adamant on spending time with her. Even more so, it was her first party after living in Los Angeles for almost a year now. (She was a Molina from Julie’s father’s side.) Back home she didn’t have the friend group that she had now, nor did she have someone like Luke specifically in her life as a significant other. After all this time in high school not experiencing these regular social events, a party— especially at this large of a house— seemed daunting, but as always Luke made it seem, as he always does, like it was the most spectacular adventure you couldn’t miss. Apprehension and excitement filled her spirit for what was to come of tonight.

Following his gaze as she watched him survey the room, Luke’s eyes fell most notably on Nick’s guitars. “God, I wish I had this many.”

“He definitely has the collection,” Y/N agreed, still wondering what they were going to do, “but you’ve got like four, right?”

“Half of those were Bobby’s, and the acoustic is the one my parents got me… way back when, so really I only scrounged up enough money once in my life for one electric of my own.”

“So two. Still more than most.” She gave him a sympathetic smile, messing up his hair a little bit while doing so. He rubbed his head into her palm, enjoying the feeling.

There was a wonder in his eyes as he looked at the guitar rack that Y/N found quite charming. “Can’t believe he could spend all his time with these babies and he decides to balance it with sports.”

“I guess we all have our hobbies… but honestly I can’t believe we’re using this moment to ourselves to stare at guitars.” She laughs, “I’m just saying! This is what you wanted!” She corrects herself, “They are beautiful guitars though.”

“Yeah, you’re right. One of them could barge in any minute now,” Luke says, moving closer to Y/N till her back leans against the door. His fingers trace her jaw, then the side of her neck, ending as he swirled one finger around the tips of her hair. “And I could be looking at a much prettier sight.”

“Stop,” she blushed. Y/N was fine with tending to all her friends needs. She enjoyed being the first one Julie, Flynn, and now even Alex or Reggie went to for advice or help. Besides running the jatp social media account and co-running their YouTube page, making her friends feel better was what made her feel needed, but she had to admit, she liked this too.

As they traveled backwards to the door, Luke pecked her lips a few times, then the corners of her mouth, then doing both again making her giggle and move her head to either side his lips fell. Finally, he moved centimeters back, looking in her eyes, ghosting her lips, “Stop doin’ what? Tellin’ the truth?”

The rosy color on her face became more prominent. Her eyes traced between his own emeralds and his smile— his face made her mind fill with wonder. It was so bright, so positive, so warm, so close to her own. She could stay there with him, looking at her so endearingly, forever.

“Y/N?!”

“Ow!” she screeched as Flynn pushed the door open on her leaning stance, bopping her head on the wood.

“Oh my god, sorry!” Flynn gritting her teeth with worry, a fist coming to cover her mouth. “So yeah, ha ha,” the girl tried to build some relief, “Well there you two are!”

Luke grabbed the side of Y/N’s head, placing his hand over her own that covered where the impact landed, “You okay?”

“Yeah…” She sighed, she was more concerned about whatever Flynn had to say.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I need you, like for real this time.” Flynn said, her voice filled with urgency.

“Haven’t you needed her and looked for her ‘like’ everywhere three times tonight already?” Luke argued, a little disgruntled that their first truly private moment got interrupted in the matter of minutes.

“Was I talking to you, Patterson?” Flynn retorted, head tilted with a closed smirk on her face. “No, the answer is no.”

“You didn’t have to say the answer, okay? Got the gist.” His movements became dorkier by the second, his fingers coming to his face. “It was rhetorical- I knew that!”

“Wow, learned that big boy word from your girlfriend?”

“Big boy?! I- That’s not even-“ before Luke went on, Y/N cut in: “Alright,” she lifted her hand, “What happened, Flynn? What do you need?”

“It’s Julie-“

“Don’t tell me she broke another shoe. I don’t have an extra-extra pair.”

“No.” Flynn’s eyes widened, “I actually- I don’t know what it is. She just told me to get you and come to her together.” The girl sighed, “She looked sad.”

“Oh,” Y/N said, a frown coming to her face. A sad Julie is a Julie that should never be in this world. Other than thinking about the absence of her mother, Y/N’s cousin knew how to smile even when things got tough, so if she was feeling down now, and it was evident, it must’ve been important.

“Yeah. So come? Like now?” Flynn grabbed Y/N’s hand and Y/N looked at her own opposite hand that was currently attached to Luke’s, trailing her eyes up to his face.

“Well, I’ll just go too.” He insisted, “I want to help Julie, and,” He spoke directly to Y/N, “I don’t mind.”

“She didn’t ask for you.” Flynn snapped back.

“It’ll be fine.” Y/N decided, “It’s not like we all don’t know her well anyway, right?”

“Yeah, let's go. And then we can just get back, hopefully. I want to spend tonight with you.” Luke said that last part more softly, but apparently not quietly enough.

“Oh god!” Flynn vexed. “Haven’t you spent all week stuck to her mouth?” Through snickers she said, “Let her come up for some air, bruv.” Then, letting go of Y/N's hand as she turns, leading the couple to the staircase, she continued: “And really you should be relaxing all those throat muscles or whatever. I've got you in two open mic night cafes next week and that kids party at the restaurant tomorrow, AND on Sunday Julie said she wanted to record that new song for the YouTube channel.” She slapped the side of her hand to the inside of the other, creating a chopping effect, “We got things to do! I’m trying to make sure you guys stay safe and have fun, but we shouldn’t be here all night.”

Luke rolled his eyes, as much as he loved playing, he hated being bossed around like this. “It's New Year’s Eve!” He complained, yet there was still a hint of playfulness in his voice. “Mind you, this is being said by the girl who agreed to DJ at this party.”

“I didn’t agree! I got reeled into it— Difference, see! This kid comes out of nowhere to bring me onto his home stage— man, he’s rich—- and asks me if I could change the tracks, put something fun on. How am I supposed to say no? It is his birthday and everything that was on before was terrible!”

“That we can agree on,” Luke noted with a laugh.

Y/N added on, after her long silence of listening to the two go back and forth, “You finally got everyone dancing.”

“I did! Thank you!” Flynn appreciated the acknowledgment, especially from Luke, but nonetheless, she persists on her earlier claim, “That being said, I really think we should leave by 10.”

“10?!” Luke repeats with annoyance. “Tomorrow’s gig starts at six. PM. And might I remind you again: it's freakin New Years Eve! We have to stay till the ball drops!”

“We have to practice one last time and we have to get there bef-“

“Alright, alright, boss.” Luke was done arguing (for the time being.) Instead his eyes followed Y/N’s who was no longer listening, bored of her best friend and boyfriend’s little fighting game, as they looked for Julie in the clusters of kids all around the room on the main floor. “Let’s just look for Jules so we can get back. And can we make it to midnight at the least? Please? I mean, come on, there no food at the Molina house to celebrate with and you were having fun up there with those turntables.” He started to smile cheekily at Flynn, “Don’t deny it.”

Flynn took in a sharp breath as she thought. Nick did have access to some sick equipment and has always been so kind enough to share, so it would be fun to play around some more. “We’ll see how I feel at 11. And by the way, we do have things to celebrate with at the garage. I bought stuff specifically so you guys wouldn’t complain when we left,” she went on, the three taking another turn, “We’re going to have some fun here till 10, or 11 I guess, get back to the garage, celebrate New Years— woo-hoo!— and then you guys are settled down by 12:15, 30 the latest. I don’t care if you’re not asleep, just not outside.” Seeing Luke’s face rise up again she defends herself, “It's not my fault you phantoms have terrible time management skills! You guys literally have transportation powers and you’re either late or not present. It’s crazy! I need to make sure you’re there and we get paid. Period.”

Luke suppressed a grunt as Y/N rubbed his shoulders, laughing a bit at the truth of Flynn’s statement.

Then, to console Luke, she whispered in his ear, “No matter where we are, I’ll be there. Plan still intact.”

“True.” Luke whispered back, rubbing his nose on the side of her head.

Luke liked his freedom. He was used to calling the shots when it came to the band, only taking on co-captain position as Julie challenged him with just as much leadership star power as he contained. This made Flynn appointing herself as band manager not something to be desired exactly, especially when she made decisions like this on their down time. He didn’t quite enjoy being told where to go and when, but on the other hand, he couldn’t help to admit to himself that the tech savvy skills both her and Y/N brought to the table were tremendously helpful. The 90s boy was used to walking around town trying to find the next cafe for the guys to play at that he didn’t know how easy it was in this digital world to find venues he never even heard of through the internet. This made him never forget to say thank you after a gig she or Y/N would find from their endless online searchings. And on Flynn’s end, she never forgot to commend Luke on his writing skills when he happened to be the scribe for one of the band’s songs she happened to enjoy, but other than that, they did not have that much to say to each other.

Despite the natural banter and quips that would suggest they were well acquainted, they were actually still quite awkward. Luke was used to admiring her relationship with Julie and Y/N from afar, and for Flynn, after the boys came back to life she didn’t know exactly how to fit herself into the group. Of course she was a part of it, Y/N made certain of it as she herself had also felt strange about her placement in Julie’s new friend group before Julie formally introduced her to them, not knowing that her cousin could also see ghost like she could, but overall, Flynn felt just the tiniest bit embarrassed that the boys she once called ‘cute ghosts’-- more than twice-- heard her say that and all the other things she’d say not knowing they were around (Julie told her they could sometimes snoop in unbeknownst to even her at times. ‘They don’t know boundaries,’ she would say.) Flynn especially felt this way when one of those ex-ghosts was Luke who knew he was ‘cute,’ as she once said, and would bother her about it endlessly when he was first able to communicate with her.

Were they friends? Or was it simply that Luke was just a friend of her friends and that Flynn was just the friend of his girlfriend and mutual friend. Neither of them knew where their relationship stood. This caused Flynn to use her wit as a defense mechanism or to only begin a conversation with the guy when it was about something band related. ‘You kind of act like siblings,’ Y/N would tell them when they were at it. Both of them gawked at the word. ‘Siblings?!’

Around another corner the three went, passing the open space below the home stage that was being used as a dance floor. They went to the room adjacent to it. It was another rather large area, though this one was filled with more furniture, a lot in fact, perhaps to make space for the makeshift dance area. There was also an unused fireplace which caught the eyes of Y/N who yanked on the connected hand of Luke’s and then Flynn to take notice of who sat on the ledge.

The water bunching up in her eyes sparked white from the room's fluorescent gleaming lights, making her tears look much bigger and shinier. It made the group feel bad they didn’t find her sooner.

“Julie!” They all exclaimed in unison though Luke’s reaction was filled with the most apparent fret: the glow of the lights and his wide eye expression showed clearly how his eyes were growing greener with questions and worry. “What happened?” He tried to ask softly, not knowing how to react to her tears. The attempt at softness then immediately changed into one of starting frustration as he sat down next to his poor bandmate, hand on her knee, looking toward Flynn, “Why didn’t you tell us she was like this?”

“Because she wasn’t like this when I left!” Flynn countered, coming to sit down next to Julie on her left side as Luke had taken the right.

“Why do you always-“

“Enough guys,” Y/N silenced them for the third time that night. She noticed how Julie was shying away from both of their faces, not wanting to show them her tears. Julie was strong; a fighter; she sometimes much rather fake out her friends by smiling through her problems before she was ready to talk about them. Y/N knew all of this, related to it in fact, and could sense the possible embarrassment she must’ve been feeling. Not only did she create a movie moment for herself by being the girl crying at a party, but she was crying in front of her friends, when she was typically the person who tried to inspire hope, for she was the front man of her own band after all.

Y/N could also sense— guessing by the way she mostly was turning her face from Luke— that it was a boy problem. Not that Luke’s jittery expression, or close proximity to her face was helping her open up either.

Luke was trying to work on being more helpful in moments where his friends were in tears, but sometimes he could be a little too aggressive, or ‘extra,’ as Flynn would put it and Alex would agree, adding the new slang term to his vocabulary.

Y/N took a seat in front of her on the ground, rubbing her friend's arm. “It’s okay, Jules. Nobody cares what you look like. You can tell us.”

“I know, it’s just-“ she sucked her teeth, looking up, head still tilted to Flynn’s side. “It’s stupid.”

“No ones going to judge you,” Y/N promised, pointing her head to Luke’s direction for Julie to see.

“Yeah, and I bet it’s not ‘stupid’ anyway.” Flynn added.

“Nothings stupid if it made you cry, Jules.” Luke chimed in, finally agreeing with Flynn on something for the second time this night. “Who was it? I’ll beat them up for you.” He joked.

“Oh my god, no!” Julie tittered just a little while trying to wipe away all her tears. “And please never say something like that again. You sound like a dad.”

“Well he is supposed to be like 40 or something,” Flynn said, making the both of her best friends laugh. Julie specifically shook her head at this moment of Flynn and Luke’s typical banter, it was the first time she was getting a whiff of it tonight. Although she appreciated the entertainment they brought when in a room together, she agreed with Y/N that they were relentless.

Luke let that one go, seeing how it finally brought a smile to the girl’s face, “There she is.”

Julie rolled her eyes at him, sighing as her fit of giggles passed, “Okay,” she started slowly, “Well... it was Nick… and I know it’s stupid-“

“-Not stupid.” Her friends finished.

“But you know, he invited me to this party. Directly! Said he wanted to hang out- to dance. When we came, the party just started so he had to say hi to people, that made sense, and he told me to stay near the main floor, so I waited. And then my shoe broke, and then some girl spilled some of that fondue on the bottom of my dress which I had to get out with bathroom wipes, so that was annoying. Then next thing you know it’s an hour later and all I’ve done is eat pizza and watch Flynn at the turntables…”

Julie went on. She explained that finally Nick showed up again , but as he was walking to her, Carrie had just arrived at the party, stopping him in his tracks. Apparently her gift was too heavy to bring inside, so she wanted to take him to her car to show him right then and there. “He said he’d be five minutes tops. Told me to come here by the fireplace, so again, I waited. Then five minutes turned into fifteen, so I got up.” She sidetracked, “That’s not me. Just sitting there, waiting, waiting, waiting. I felt dumb. That's when I walked to the backyard to see what was going on out there, find something to do after all this time, but funny enough that’s where I found Nick and Carrie, laughing, dancing, having a great time.” She wipes a new stray tear, “I decided to look for you,” she nodded to Y/N, “And it’s no offense Flynn, you know I love you, it’s just that I didn’t want to hear you tell me that ‘he’s not worth it’ at the moment.” She gave herself a pity laugh, “I’m currently feeling a little bad for myself as you can see.”

“I’m so sorry Julie.” Y/N started. “But Flynn only tells you the facts like that because she thinks you’re so worthy of more.”

“So much more,” Flynn added on, moving closer to Julie.

“But I get it, it's not fair.” consoled Y/N. “I try to always consider his actions in those instances with Carrie as him just being a pacifist, but if he said he wanted to be with you and continuously told you he would, then he should’ve been here.”

“Agreed, but also, being a pacifist doesn’t mean to always stay quiet though, you can find a way to keep the peace and still do what’s right.” Luke spoke up. “He shouldn’t let Carrie always take him away like that.”

Y/N gave Luke a smile, “Insightful.”

“Strangely,” Flynn chimed in, “but exactly right. Not to mention how it’s not fair— no matter how nice he is— for him to just let Carrie keep saying whatever the hell she wants without calling her out.”

“I just feel like I shouldn’t be so beat up. It is his birthday after all. He can do what he wants.” Muttered Julie.

“No!” Y/N told her. “You feel like you wasted your time, I get that! It’s his birthday, but your feelings are still important.”

“Also,” Luke started, “Julie, I mean, come on! You could do so much better. So what? He’s like 18 now? Well I’m 18 now too, supposed to be 40 something apparently and I look like this! This! Compared to Nick? Julie… girl!” He stated her name again, smiled wide, “I know Molina’s have better taste than that. Not to say what you didn’t want to hear, but, it’s true: he’s not worth it. Period.” He mimicked Flynn with the last word.

Both Flynn and Julie gagged, “Oh my god,” they said in union. Y/N just put her face in her hands.

“You were actually doing well, and then you just go and screw it up like that?” Flynn sighed.

“Now you went from a dad to sounding like a whole ratty teenage boy.” She rolled her eyes teasingly, trying to conceal her laughter at his conceited remark, “Disgusting.”

“Well as long as I got you to stop crying, that’s all that matters anyway.” He laughed goofily, invading her personal space once again.

“Yeah,” Julie realized with a contented sigh. It seemed all the company she really needed was her friends.

“Well, I think the only thing to do now is make up for all that time wasted, huh?” Y/N spoke with a smirk. “If he doesn’t want to be your dance partner, it looks like you’re going to have to take on three instead.”

“Fuck yeah,” Luke said, jumping up, grabbing Y/N and Julie’s hands and running to the dance floor.

Flynn called to the group, as she parted from them, heading to the stage, “Lemme change the song!”

“OOOH!” Luke roared as the ooos and aahs of Donna and the Dynamos filled the room. “One of the best things to come out of the 2000s!”

Julie and Y/N laughed at the surprisingly grand amount of love Luke had for Mamma Mia!

Luke imitated the hustle, sticking his tongue out, shaking his hips, and making Y/N dance along with him, moving around Julie who looked at them incredulously.

“Come oooon,” he said to Julie’s direction, “Nobody can NOT like this song.” And after that Julie gave in, agreeing that a Mamma Mia and ABBA song was too good not to dance to. Flynn came up right behind her, making the dancing trio into a group of four.

From jumping, to slides and shoulder grooves, and even forming their own little dancing circle the four lived in the song, seeing the last of Julie’s worry wash away as the speakers blasted the words “Dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen,” to which Julie’s friends made sure to spotlight her on as their hands sprinkled up and down spirit fingers as she twirled, enjoying her title that fit perfectly with her age.

“Thanks guys,” Julie smiled sweetly, still jumping to the beat.

“WOOOO!” Luke hollered into the crowd, taking Y/N’s hand, swaying and jumping with her exclusively now.

“WOO!” She yelled back.

“LOUDER, LOUDER!” He yelled in her face, shaking his head, his hair imitating a lion’s mane as he gritted his teeth, getting closer to her face.

“WOOOOO!” She yelled, trying to match her boyfriend’s energy.

“YES, Y/N. WOOO!” They kept jumping and he spun her around, letting her twirl into his grasp. He held her closer, one arm tightly around her waist while the other still held her hand, stepping and swaying side to side in a fast pace in order to keep up with the quick musical tune. Her laughs of surprisement to his actions filled him with pride. She was usually so focused on making her friends smile, she could sometimes forget to just have fun for herself. She dropped anything to tend to their needs, which is why tonight was important. At her first party he was going to make her smile and have fun, and that ended with a New Year’s kiss. Hopefully, he could find a way to hide from Flynn— and his friends for that matter— till that time to make it happen.

Finally the song died down and a rush of endorphins filled the floor as almost everyone in the area, even those who typically didn’t dance joined along to the jumping motion the four started at the beginning of the song. “Should I change it?” Flynn asked Julie as the next song started, noticing how different the vibe of this song was from the last: slower, more romantic.

“No,” Julie told Flynn as she watched Luke take his arms closer into Y/N’s sides, “Let’s let them have their moment.”

Y/N arms went around Luke’s neck, and his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling each other closer while swaying in a circular motion. He connected their foreheads. His eyes fixated on her own. They were so gentle, so sweet, so comforting, he felt safe looking in them. He could stay that way forever.

“Luke?”

Luke sighed, once again just minutes of feeling release ruined. “Yeah, bud?” It was Alex.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but this kid Reginald-“

“Don’t tell me he lost the dog again. I don’t want to look for it.”

“It’s not the dog! Well, not this time. I think he’s finally realized that we can’t take it home with us. It’s-“ Alex started snickering which then turned into great belly laughs he couldn’t stop, “I just- I can’t- I can’t- just please,” he had no control. “Please I need your help!”

“What the hell, Alex?”

“Just-“ Alex put his hand over his mouth, trying to conceal his laughs. He motioned Luke with his other hand, walking away.

Luke kept his hand in Y/N’s, bringing her along with him, “I don’t want to get split up again, like last time with the dog.”

“It’s not the dog!” Alex exclaimed, still laughing.

The three were now on the right side of the house, near the pool door that also stood to the right and in the area sat a couch and pool table. The wall on the left side had a small vent near the floor which is where they found Reggie, hip deep in the square hole.

“HELLO!” Reggie wagged his butt, for his friends to see, “Did you bring Luke?”

“Yeah!” Alex answered “Do you see now? He’s stuck!”

“How and why?!” Y/N asked, now joining in with Alex’s uncontrollable laughter as Reggie kept shaking his butt. Quickly Luke couldn’t help himself either.

“No! Y/N is here?” Reggie asked, “Y/N I’m so sorry you have to see me like this. I haven’t been doing my squats recently. I know I don’t look in the best of shape-“

“I think that’s the last thing I’m worried about, Reg,” Y/N said, still losing her breath along with Alex who yelled an incredulous ‘what?!’ at his words.

“No one cares about your glutes, bro.” Luke shook his head, laughing with the two.

“Well I do!” Reggie fought back. “I don’t wear these skinny jeans for nothing!”

Alex’s laughter from Reggie’s wackiness turned into one of apprehension. “Well there are more important things to worry about! Like my date being almost two hours late and also how I don’t even know what to say to him because I haven’t seen him in like two months and it's New Year’s Eve and yeah, okay, okay- Stop shaking your ass!”

“Okay,” Y/N held his shoulders, still losing her breath, “Willie is going to come, alright? It'll be fine, but-“

“Let’s deal with gluteus minimus first.” Luke finished.

“That’s not even-“

“I don’t care.” Luke finished for Alex this time. “I’ll take the right leg, Alex, take the left. Pull!”

Ow! Ow! Ow!” Reggie yelped.

“PULL!”

“Ow! Stop!”

“It’s going to hurt till we get you out, Reg” Alex explained. “And why isn’t Y/N helping?”

“Oh, sorry,” She was caught up in the hysterics.

“Oh that’s right,” Luke noticed. “Take the right, I’ll hold onto his feet and pull from the back. On three. 1, 2, 3, PULL!”

“WAIT!” Reggie yelled.

“WHAT?” Alex yelled back.

“Luke said on three, but you pulled at ‘pull’, or really after pull, so is it really ‘on three’ or do you want it to be ‘on pull’ or ‘after three’ or ‘after pull’?”

Alex shook his head, “Does it matter?!”

Reggie’s voice cracked, “Just asking!”

“Okay, ON pull!” Luke clarified, “1,2,3, PULL”

“NO! WAIT!”

“WHAT?!” The three pullers yelled.

“I felt a tear in my jacket, I love this jacket.”

“Oh god,” the boys complained.

“I think it’s just going to have to tear for us to get you out,” Y/N told him.

“But you gave it to me!” Y/N heard the sadness in his voice. It was a brown leather jacket with long strands of fringe on either side. She thought it went perfectly with his banjo and love for country music. It also had big inside pockets that could hold all his little treasures, and whatever he had in his pocket today is probably the reason why it was so hard to get him out.

“Maybe Victoria knows a good dry cleaner that can give us a discount,” she reasoned.

“Tía does always have very nicely pressed clothes,” Reggie agreed, as an honorary Molina— self appointed, but appreciated by most— he felt that it was okay to address Victoria as such.

“Yeah,” She laughed at his words, “So are you going to tell me how you got stuck?”

“Well I knew there was going to be a pool table here so I brought my lucky gold eight ball-” Reggie had a lucky every- “And it kind of just fell in here.”

Alex corrected him, “You mean you were getting too cocky at the game and knocked the ball so hard that it fell in there.”

“Potatoes, tomatoes, uh, spaghetti! It doesn't matter now, I got my ball and now I need you guys to help me get out.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Luke nodded, “You ready Reg?”

“...No!”

“You want to make out with the rats? They have diseases.” Alex sarcastically noted.

“They’re misunderstood creatures!” Reggie stated on their behalf. Reggie’s butt buzzed, “Oh that's my phone, that feels weird, “ he laughed.

“Phone!’ Alex's eyes widened, “Where’s my phone?” He dropped Reggie’s leg

“Alex!” Luke exclaimed want to get this over with.

“Willie texted, he said he’ll be here in thirty- thirty minutes!”

“Anything else,” Y/N asked.

“He’s excited to spend the New Years with me” He said softly, unsurely.

“That's great.” Everyone agreed, happy for the boy.

“Are you going to text back?” Y’N asked excitedly, happy with the idea of Alex’s romance coming to life.

“Oh yeah!” Alex’s face faltered, “Shit. It just died.”

“Just get Reggie’s,” Luke shrugged, “But after we get him out!”

After 3 more tries at “ON PULLS,” Alex, Luke, and Y/N were able to get Reggie out, only tearing his jacket on the left side.

“Thanks guys” Reggie said appreciatively.

As Luke patted Reggie back Alex spoke: “Um, hey, Y/N?” He asked quietly, hands in his pocket, “Mind if I steal you for a second?”

“Sure,” she smiled sweetly at him, turning the corner so they could have a little bit of privacy.

“I’m nervous.” He sighed, “ I already spoke to Luke about it before we left for tonight, so he’s already given me all the inspiration he’s got, but I’m still not sure of it all… He took the whole coming back to life hard, but I didn’t think he would take it so hard that he would separate himself from us, from me. ” The boy frowned.

“I think he really liked being a ghost,” Y/N started.

“Yeah and we ruined his whole life,”

“We didn’t ruin his life, we saved it. He’s free, just like you guys. And…” Y/N trailed off trying to find the words, “Hm, well, I think he was just a ghost so long it became a part of his identity, and now that part left him, it must’ve been hard to take in. Should he have been more verbal about needing space? Yes. You deserved that. If you want to tell him that, you should, especially if it’ll help relieve whatever thoughts you’ve got suck up there. I’m sure he will be apologetic if you ask calmly, try to see it from his perspective. And that way he can be empathetic to your perspective as well, you know? On the other hand, you can also take this New Year in stride and just like go to the past and have a good time with him. Or do both!” She put an arm on his shoulder, giving him a warm closed smile.

He nodded taking in her words, trying to remember what she said as she said it.

“You got this, okay? What does Luke say? Step into your greatness?”

“Heh,” he laughed, “Greatness is usually for Julie, awesomeness is mine, not saying that I am awesome though, it’s- it’s just what he says.”

“Well it’s because it’s true. You’re awesome, Alex. Just be open hearted and your awesomeness will shine through.”

“But.. how?”

“Didn’t I- Never mind. Okay, from what I know, Willie already knows you, and likes you, and enjoys talking to you, so there are no awkward first encounters to be made. You’ll see him and all you need to do is be prepared to say hi, that is unless you want to talk to him about the past, and then it will go off from there. I feel it ending up well, I promise. And even if it doesn’t? Show him the food. Everyone loves food.”

“Hi- maybe past- food- got it.” He turned, but Y/N quickly grabbed him.

“Wait, but don’t just think about that. Remember: He’s coming because he wants to see YOU. He wants to spend New Years with YOU. That’s what his message said right?”

“Right.” It seemed Alex forgot.

“So believe it. Live in that message.”

“Okay,” he started to smile lightly, though still a little wearily. “Thanks… He wants to see me, he WANTS to see me, live in it.” He repeated her words.

Alex gave her Reggie’s phone, asking her to message Willie one last time stating that he would be waiting for him by the front of the house by the band’s van. She did so and turned the corner hoping to find both Reggie and Luke, but unfortunately the latter person was not in sight.

“Reg, where’s Luke?”

“Y/N! Meet Amelie Laurent,” Reggie introduced the girl sitting next to him, imitating a French accent as he said her name. “She’s a foreign exchange student from France. She likes my jacket.” He said with a smirk.

Y/N guessed he didn’t hear her question.

“Nice to meet you,” the girl said giggling at Reggie’s antics. “Comment tu t’appelles?” She asked.

“Uh, yes.” Y/N stared blankly, watching the girls face fall, “I’m just kidding, it’s Y/N. I know that much at least.” Both you and the girl laughed.

“Aw look, my girls getting along!”

“Your girl?” Amelie questioned.

“Well maybe not yet,” Reggie winked while wiggling a brow.

“You should get Luke and come hang out with me and Miss Amelie Laurent.” Reggie once again pronounced her name with the most fake sounding French accent he could muster, having fun with how the name rolled off his tongue.

“Speaking of that,” Y/N handed him his phone, “Do you know where he went?”

“Well he didn’t go through the pool door because that’s where my Amelie Laurent came from, so I’m guessing back there,” Reggie pointed his thumb behind him.

“Alright, then I guess I’m going that way. Nice to meet you Miss Amelie.” She giggled, attempting her own French accent.

About 10 minutes had passed. Y/N had walked around to the backyard, upstairs to some rooms, to the dance floor, the kitchen, stopping along the way when Julie and Flynn caught her in their sight till she found herself back by the pool table. Reggie’s banjo and doggy friend was present but not he nor his lady friend, or Luke. Y/N wondered if she should finally try the pool door till she heard a sound, a voice actually. As she walked down the hallway she was just minutes before, she heard his voice.

It was Luke, his tones muffled by the music and talking inside, but she could hear it, it filled her senses, making her heart flutter to hear his singing as it belted a tune much more soulful then the usual pop or rock songs the band sang. He was outside, in the backyard, one of the first places she looked. As she almost reached the back door, she was pushed rather harshly, by someone with wheels, skateboard wheels.

“Whoa! Sorry!” It was Willie. “You’re Y/N right?” He smiled, running his fingers through his hair as he took off his helmet. “I know we’ve never really spoken, but we know of each other.”

“We do,” Y/N said pleasantly.

“I’m glad I finally found one of you, I’m totally lost.”

“Well I think Luke was just outside there, actually.”

“Oh really? God I was going so fast I wasn’t even thinking. Or looking would be correct, right? Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there, sometimes I still think I’ll just go through people. Can’t believe I have to walk indoors now.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Life of the living,” she tried to joke, “I’m sorry. I know it must be strange.”

“Yeah, better than being under Caleb though.”

“Right,” Y/N nodded.

“Oh, sorry,”

“No don’t be. I’ll never know him like you did. No emotional tie here.”

“Um,” An awkward silence erupted, “So since you’re the only one in the group I’ve found you want to play a game?”

“A game?” She asked, confused.

“Yeah!” He raised his brow.

“And what game would this be?”

“The Where’s Alex game. If you have the answer I’ll love you forever. I already know I’m super late.”

“Oh!” she laughed at the realization, “He’s at the front! You didn’t see him? Or see the text?”

“My phone died,” He pulled out the device as proof, the glass was severely cracked, “I’m not sure how to properly take care of it as you can see. No wonder I make it die so fast.”

“His phone died too, strangely enough. But he’s waiting for you at the front entrance. You didn’t come from that way?”

“No, I didn’t know if someone would stop me if I went that way because I wasn’t actually invited. I never really did this kind of thing in the past. It’s my first time.”

“Really? It’s my first too, but for you? You seem so cool to me to never be invited.”

“Well the actual definition of cool and high schoolers definition of cool is wildly different. We’re obviously a different breed, you and I. Better.” He joked.

“Well thank you.” She could tell why Willie liked him. “Alex is by the white van, it has ghosts painted all over it so you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you!”

“Of course!”

As he was about to walk away, skateboard in hand, he stopped, “Can I be honest?”

“Sure.” She smiled nodding at him to continue.

“I’m a little nervous. I know that’s his thing so I should try to get over it, but I can’t help it. This not being a ghost thing has been hard, you know? Is he mad? I didn’t mean to separate myself…” he faultured. Although Y/N knew Alex’s half of the story, Willie and her were still newly acquainted, it made sense why he felt the need to stop himself from possibly over sharing.

“He can’t wait to see you.” She reassured him, ending the silence. “It’s literally why he decided to stay by the front. He wanted you to find him right away. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“You sure?”

She confirmed, “Absolutely positive.”

“Alright, thanks again. And nice to meet you! You know, not just by me peering through windows and being creepy. Sorry.”

“Ghosts will be ghosts.” Y/N shrugged. She watched as Willie gave her a laugh and started to walk away.

“Y/N,” the sweet voice from the backyard called for her again, this time saying her name.

“Luke,” her eyes brightened, turning around.

“Found you.” He grinned, intertwining their fingers on both sides.

“Well really I would have found you first. I heard your voice, from the backyard, but Willie stopped me before I could go.”

“Ah, you heard my call for you.”

“For me?” He hummed in response.

“I’ll pretend that’s true.”

“Good,” Luke brought one of her hands up to his lips, kissing it softly. “So where have you been in the last twenty?”

“Well I was looking for you. Reggie said you didn’t go through the pool door so-“

“I did.”

You did?”

“I did! He probably didn’t mention it because he was so focused on-

“Miss Amelie Laurent!” You both said in unison, French accents prevalent.

“He said you went back here so I went to the backyard, but you weren’t there, so I went upstairs back to Nick room, and you don’t want to know what I saw in there-”

“Ooo tell me,” his eyes were eager.

“Anyway, I went back down stairs, found Julie near the kitchen— we shared a cupcake— and then she asked me if I would go to the dance floor with her and find someone to talk to so I did that, but then Flynn can said she lost her bracelet so we three had to look for that one, then I came back to the pool table, heard you singing, bumped into Willie, asked me where Alex was, and then I think he needed some advice— he and Alex are literally having the same problem, it’s kind of cute— and then you finally came. That’s my story.”

Luke's mouth was open, eyes going around in a circle as she went on her tangent, hanging onto every word, he thought it was pretty adorable. “Well, my story is much shorter. When I picked Reggi up, you disappeared.”

“Oh, Alex asked me to speak to him, all we did was turn the corner.”

“I didn’t know, but then some guy from the pool came up to me asked me if I could show him some cords from a phantom song and before I could say yes he was pushing me out the door. I helped him, went back inside, met Miss Amelie Laurent, walked to the backyard because Reggie said you went that way, and there I stayed.”

“If only I went back.”

“We’re good now.” Though a smile still ghosted his face he felt a sudden suppression wash over him, “Are you having fun, Y/N/N?”

“I- Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know… I just know it’s your first party here and I wanted you to have a good time, but at every second someone needs you, or someone needs me, and we’ve been pulled around and around and around,-“ Luke moves his head left to right, a rasp in his voice like a motor engine as he repeated the word for effect, “-that I feel like you’re not letting yourself get into some trouble like everyone else.”

“Trouble?”

“Lack of a better word,” he smiled smugly. “I’m just saying, you’re not Julie and the Phantoms glorified assistant-”

“Neither are you. You’ve done just as much as me tonight.” She reasoned.

“Yeah, but that’s because I was trying to stick with you and lessen the load. You know you do so much for us all the time.”

“I guess I just like you guys too much.” she shrugged, matching his playful tone from before.

“Like just me a little bit more then.” He moved closer, placing his fingers on her jaw, “Hmm?”

He finally kissed her, a real kiss this time. His other hand moved to her neck as her hands moved to his arms. The hand on her jaw lifted her chin higher, deepening the action.

“People are watching,” she said through a breath, eyes alert.

Before going back in he said, “No one's watching,” Then after a peck, “And no one cares.” His hands slid to her waist, head tilting to the other side, he hummed, causing Y/N’s hands to fall to his cheeks, quickly sliding her fingers against his chest; she was lost in the moment.

Slowly Luke’s feet moved backwards, moving one of the hands that was wrapped around his waist to her hip as he motioned her against the wall. “Ow,” Y/N yelped, the black and blue Flynn gave her earlier pulsing again.

Luke’s hand came to her head, cushioning it against the wall. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“So did I,” she laughed.

The both smiled at each other, Luke forehead connecting with hers, he rubbed his nose against her own etching more bits of laughter out of her. He relished in the noises, the closeness, the feeling.

Looking down he noticed their shoes, Y/N’s original chucks in the middle of both vans. He didn’t care what shoes she wore, but he much appreciated how she had to change her footwear for Julie because now they matched… somewhat. The black and white pallets, but different designs; similar, but different; individuals, but connected. He liked it. “Nice shoes, kid.”

“Thanks,” she laughed, “Not what I originally intended, but they work.”

“Work better, in my opinion.” He moved back, extending her arms out as he held her hands. He was surveying how her black dress with white polka dots perfectly matched the color scheme of the converse. “Perfect.”

Once again she blushed, but didn’t respond. Instead she made a remark about his own shoes. “You know, I don’t understand how you wear those everyday, yet they aren’t all dirty like mine.”

“Well I used to be a ghost, when I was walking my feet weren’t actually treading on the Earth.”

��Well that was three months ago.”

“Almost three months ago,” he corrected, for that’s when their official relationship started. Luke always thought she was pretty, right from the moment he saw her, but it wasn’t love at first sight, not even like. She was a little quiet, at least with him and the boys and they all noticed. With Julie and Flynn she smiled brightly and chatted constantly, or that’s what he would hear when he would come to Julie’s room, hearing her voice through the door. It was a sweet voice, empathetic, understanding; he thought it sounded like music, and not only did he wonder how his name would sound on her lips, but he felt connected to it. He understood the desire to make others feel good. Through his singing he tried to make people feel seen, make their problems validated, and he could tell she tried to do that with her words.

For Y/N at first, she wanted Julie to have the band for herself. She thought that this was one of the few things making her feel happy during this dark time of Tía Rose’s passing, so she didn’t want to step in too much, not to mention the realization that she could see ghosts wasn’t exactly the easiest things for her to get her head around the way Julie did. But her elusiveness only made Luke more curious, and when Luke was curious, he was persistent in finding out whatever it was he wanted to know.

First, he would ask Julie to bring Y/N down for their rehearsals and she would, sometimes, but nothing gave. Y/N would most give Julie feedback, shying away from the ghosts gaze, still unsure how to interact. Then, he just started asking Julie about her cousin, little questions here and there till Julie finally got tired and told him to just go talk to her himself. This is where he was at a stand still as he was unsure how to approach her. Finally, after noticing how her room lights would shine quite far into the night, he decided to go up there, telling himself he would just ask her why she sleeps so late, that he only noticed because he likes to take walks at night. It sounded reasonable to him.

This is when he realized how similar Molina’s are: Always trying to be brave for others. After she told him she always had trouble falling asleep unless it was specifically her bed at home, but didn’t want to tell anyone else because it would bother them. She wanted to stay here for Julie and for the friendships she was finally making at Los Feliz, so Luke decided to start a tradition with her: late night bike rides. It was a way to tire her out and a way for him to get some alone time with her. Him taking a bike from the garage, and her using her own she brought from her old home. They rode separately, but together, letting the quiet road open them up to the other. Telling each other stories, discussing interests, consoling each other when they were feeling down. Luke never knew how close you could feel to someone else by just conversation until he had to do it with Y/N. It made him appreciate her in a way he’d never felt before.

They were not friends, they knew that fairly quickly, but they didn’t hurt each other by talking about being more. It was just an unspoken agreement that they hung out with each other exclusively in the way that they did, but they never spoke of romantics. Their rides were special, only for them. That’s why when he became alive the first thing he wanted to do, after celebrating with everyone, was take a ride with her. One bike this time. Her heels on the bars and she heads onto his shoulders, showing her where he used to grow up. That’s what he always wanted to do.

“Not enough time,” Luke said in response to Y/N who mentioned that wearing the same two pairs of shoes for 3 months had to have made them a little messed up, but he was talking about them, thinking about how short of a time ago it was that he got got be with her this way. It was a long year of just knowing her without the sense of touch. He felt lucky. Once again, he dipped his hands on the side of her face, starting to go in till-

“Hey, Y/N! And oh, Luke! Hey man.” It was the New Years Eve birthday boy.

“Oh, hey, Nick,” Y/N said, maintaining a kind disposition although she knew how his actions made Julie feel.

“Um,” he laughed awkwardly at Luke’s stoicism, it was unnatural for his character and even Nick knew that by now, “Well I was wondering if you knew where Julie was. I’ve been looking for her everywhere.”

“Really?” Luke questioned.

“Yeah, I promised her a dance,” he laughed, “or really she promised me one because we all know I suck.”

Y/N laughed kindheartedly at his deprecation. She was still trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Carrie does have a dominating attitude, and with someone as tender Nick it would make sense that he got roped into whatever it was even at his own party, but looking at Luke’s face and knowing how she felt earlier, she decided to to be upfront, “Look Nick, you don’t have to say anything, but I think you like Julie, and I don’t know if Julie likes you, but let’s say she does: You’re sending mixed signals. I get you and Carrie have a history and that she can be bossy, but you make your own choices. If you want to hang out with a certain someone, I think you should put your foot down and make it a priority to do that.” She tried to be ambiguous, obviously failing throughout.

Nick sighed, “I know… I have no excuse. But that’s why I’ve been trying to find her. I want to hang out with her, do a- I don’t know-“

“‘I don’t know?’” Luke intervened, restating his words, unsure about the possible actions behind them.

“I mean like... New Year's kiss, I- don’t laugh at me Y/N!”

“No! I think it’s sweet. I'm only laughing because I’ve understood your pain, Nick.”

Nick laughed alongside her albeit he was still mostly laughing at himself. Luke kept his grumpy face, eyebrows twitching. “Well if that’s what you want, go get it before the Carrie snatches you up again”

“But even if she does,” Luke started.

“Put your foot down.” Y/n finished “You know, Stand Tall, like the phantoms song.”

“‘Whatever happens’ he snickered, waving his finger as he said the lyric in hopes to ease the tension with Luke, but he was not amused.

“Exactly,” Y/N smiled, paying her boyfriend's chest.

“Right,” Luke agreed, he was really only saying it for Y/N. “Nice basketball sheets by the way”

“Hey, come on, my dad got those for me. It’s nostalgic, you know? Anyway, so I know you guys were busy and I’m sorry that I interrupted anything, but do you think you could help me find her? I really want to find her.”

“Listen Nick,” Luke started once again, it was getting late and he still had a plan he wanted to maintain.

“Y/N! So there’s this gu- Nick, oh-“

“Julie, I’ve been looking for you!” Nick exclaimed, happy to see her.

“You have?”

“Apparently,” Luke answered.

“Well Nick, actually I-“

“Wait. Julie, wait. I- um, I was also looking for all you phantoms actually. I mean I was going to find you and talk to you first and the ask about this later but hey two out of the four are here so,”

“What are you talking about?” Julie asks, hoping he’d get to the point.

“I was wondering if you could play a song? Just one. I don’t have a bass but I’ve got a drum kit on stage already and I’ve got plenty of electrics. The party’s coming to a close and I thought this would be one last thing to bring it all together to make a great night. I know it’s last minute,”

“Nick-“

“Julie.” He stopped, stumbling with his words, till he finally felt sure of what to say, “I’m beating around the bush. What I really need to say is I’m sorry for leaving you. You’re the only one I wanted to hang out with tonight. Carrie- Carrie’s just lonely. If I’m being honest and I promise I don’t mean this in a rude way, but Kayla is just more of her henchman. I know we used to date so it looks strange, but I think I’m her only friend right now. She bought a really grand present and took me away to show it to me, that’s all. I should have stopped to speak to you first though. That’s on me.”

Julie looked down, nodding, “I appreciate that.”

“You don’t have to sing and you don’t have to give me any more of your time tonight if you don’t want to. I’m just glad you’re here either way.”

“I don’t mind hanging out with you... if you actually stick around this time-“

“I will!”

“But singing? I guess I’ll leave that one to you Luke.” Julie said, noticing his expression, lips scrunched up together.

“I- It’s your choice, Jules. Whatever you want.” He said lessening the intensity that was in his eyes, Nick did do what Y/N said after all.

“Let’s sing then. This party has been a little hectic and I think we all need to get our emotions out. Let the New Year come in with good vibes. Right, buddy?” She said tapping Luke’s cheek. “Y/N, help me find the others?”

“Sure,” she said with a sympathetic smile to Luke who she noticed didn’t seem to enjoy that little buddy comment, nonetheless, she joined in: “See ya soon, buddy,” Y/N laughed, letting the ends of her finger tips brush against his till she was pulled away by Julie.

On stage, Julie and the Phantoms rose, singing Finally Free. It had become quite the party anthem for them. The repetition in the chorus made it such a good song for them to engage with the audience. Every time Julie sang ‘I got a spark in me’ the crowd would sing back, throwing their hands up in the process quite literally making the next lyric, ‘hands up if you’re with me’ come true in the most perfect way.

Y/N wished she brought her camera, instead she opted to take out her phone, taking some iPhone shots of the band, hoping the fans would enjoy these raw candid pictures, but then Luke caught her attention through the screen, he sent her a wink, one that the people in front of her probably thought was for them. As he strummed his guitar he yelled a ‘WOOO’ her way, bouncing with Reggie. Y/N decided to put her phone down. This performance was a New Years special, one to only be viewed in person; in the moment; no thinking of anyone else. Finding Flynn in the crowd who was also trying to catch some snapshots of her own, Y/N passed on the energy Luke had given to her: “Lets just have fun!”

Soon after, the song had ended, and despite not being the ‘hologram band’ anymore the Phantoms vanished from the stage, still giving the audience chills as Julie was the one last standing, thanking everyone for being such a great audience. When the gang realized the guys still had some ghosting abilities, Julie wondered if they should stop the whole disappearing thing, saying it would be harder for people to believe, but honestly, seeing the guys at school, at this party, and still watching them turn to dust when the music and cheering ended still amazed the crowd and made it just that more of a spectacle; no one cared for reason, it was simply that cool to see.

Y/N hoped Luke would pop up alongside her, saving her the hassle of searching for him again, but alas, he did not. It made sense to her though, for she was right in the middle of the dancefloor.

She decided to travel back around to the hallway where Nick and Julie had stopped her and Luke before. Walking down the hall, a hand snaked around her arm, pull her into a small closet under the staircase. “What the-” She stopped herself as she looked up and the light illuminated the small area with a click and a pull. Her eyes traveled slowly from the buttery yellow glow of the small light, the hand which pulled on the silvery chord, the shimmering skin of Luke, whose eyes followed her gaze till she met his own. “Howdy.”

“Hey there, partner” she said softy, small breathy giggles coming out of her. “Nice hat.”

“Why thank you, pretty lady,” he responded with a wink, tipping the brown leathered cowboy hat he’d found.

“So what are we doing in here?” She asked, watching him take off the hat.

“Wanna play seven minutes in heaven?”

“Like in 13 going on 30? Is that the kind of game you played in your 90s parties?”

Luke rolled his eyes at her comment, moving on, “I decided that our friends are not going to leave us alone tonight, so I want just seven minutes. No interruptions, just us.”

“I’d like that.”

Luke took out his phone starting a timer on his phone, “Yeah,” he nodded as he moved closer to her face, “me too.”

Lips on her own, he moved his hand to the back of her head, remembering her black and blue and he softly placed it against the wall of the small space, removing it once there.

As her head leaned eagerly against it, the rest of her body was slanted, legs in between his own, he moved his arms to her waist, hands going up her back, while hands went up to his neck, going in to play with his hair.

“Y/N?”

The sound caused her to jump, banging her head for the third time. “Ow.”

It was Flynn.

“Luke!”

It was Reggie.

Now Julie came over, “Is Y/N and Luke in there? Guys?!” H-“

“No!” Luke yelled.

“Hey!” It was Alex, hand in hand with Willie. “Are they coming out? It’s-“

“Five minutes!” Luke yelled out again. He slid out his phone from underneath the door. “In fact, reset it to seven, give us seven.”

Reggie took phone, “But Luke you didn’t notice the ti-“

Luke bagged on the door, “When it rings, that’s when you can give us your requests.”

Y/N covered her mouth, giggling at his aggressive tone.

“Come here,” he motioned her with his hands on her hips, lips once again reconnected. As they started to move backward again, Luke moved his hands higher, picking her up, motioning her to wrap her legs around her waist, Y/N tried to catch her breath as their lips fell a part in the action, “Not this time,” he whispered in her ear, the vibrations of his voice making her shiver. He crashed his lips onto hers again as his hands went lower on his hips, supporting her on his frame. He swiped his tongue on her lower lip in an attempt to deepen the kiss further. Thereafter, their lips were connected in open mouth kisses, Luke taking control of the action.

“We just wanted to say Happy New Years, it’s 12:03.” Reggie uttered quietly at the bottom of the door, petting Nick’s dog that found him again. Y/N and Luke didn’t answer him, he figured they were too busy engrossed in each other.

“Happy New Years, beautiful.” Luke sang to Y/N, sighing out, admiring the way her eyes looked into his, realizing that he completed his mission after all.

“Happy New Years, Luke.” She breathed out, planting her lips on his once more. One hand on the side of his face as the other went back to his hair, rejoicing in their closeness, finally, uninterrupted.

Thank you for reading!

Tag list: @lolychu @marinettepotterandplagg

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson x reader #luke jatp #luke jatp fic #luke jatp imagine #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagine #julie and the phantoms fic #luke julie and the phantoms

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