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imherongraystairstrash · 4 years ago

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Defender of Men

Alex Lightwood birth storyyy!! I’m finally publishing it because someone sent me an ask on it, but it became too long, so here’s part one:

“Cecily, are sure you’ll be alright?” Gabriel asked.

“Jiw jiw, for the millionth time, I’ll be fine.” she said, pushing Gabriel out the door. “Now go do something useful.”

Anna was already outside, leaning against a tree, frowning down at her dress.

“Anna, gwnewch yn siŵr bod eich tad yn stopio poeni.” Cecily said.

Gabriel looked at her, annoyed. “I speak Welsh, Cecy.”

Cecily kissed his cheek, “Then make sure you do well on what I said.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes and hugged her with one of his arms.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“No, Gabriel.” She said, putting a hand on his chest. “Just have fun sledding with Anna, your nieces and Gideon. Sophie is right next door, if I need anything—which, I won’t—I’ll just call her.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not made of glass, love. I’ll be fine. Now go before our poor Anna gets stuck frozen to that tree.”

Gabriel dropped a kiss on the top of her head before letting her go.

Cecily watched as he walked to Anna, who made a show of pretending to be asleep. He ruffled her hair, stealing her hat in the process and running down the street. Anna laughed and chased after him.

…

“Kit, bach, are you sure you don’t want to go sledding with Anna and your father? I’m sure it will be loads of fun,” Cecily said, once she was back inside.

Kit furrowed his eyebrows and cast a hesitant look outside. “I think I’d rather stay with you, Mam.”

Cecily smiled, knowing perfectly well Kit didn’t like the cold. “Alright then, fy ngalon bapur i.” (A/N: my paper heart)

Cecily walked to the kitchen and pulled out two mugs from the cupboard and filled them with tea. Before she picked them up, she grabbed a pocket watch that was on the counter and hung it on her neck so she could time her contractions.

When she got back to the drawing room, she tried to set the mugs on the table, but she couldn’t bend down that far. Christopher shot to his feet and helped her put them down, and lowered her to the couch.

“Thank you, darling.” Cecily said, bracing a hand of her belly. She felt like she was at the verge of giving birth, which is never a good thing, as a mother’s instinct is rarely wrong. The first stage of labour takes around fourteen hours, hence Gabriel’s hesitation to leave her at home. Cecily had thought he was being dramatic, but that was before she realized that she was maybe closer to birth than she had thought. Had fourteen hours already gone by?

“What book are you reading?” Cecily said, looking over her son’s shoulder, distracting herself.

“The Picture of Dorian Gray.”

Cecily scrunched up her nose. She had never read the book herself, but from what she’d heard of, it didn’t seem like a book Christopher would be interested in.

“What a peculiar choice of literature, cyw.”

“Matthew recently read it and said it was at utmost importance I read it as well. I don’t understand much of it, though. I’m also not very fond of the characters. I’d prefer your company over that of this book.”

Cecily smiled. “As do I, bach.”

Having children was a strange experience for Cecily. She was apprehensive at first, afraid she wouldn’t be a good mother and her children would end up resenting her. When she got pregnant with her first child, she was so happy.

And when she lost it, she had been so incredibly grief-stricken.

She had felt like she’d already failed as a mother, even though the Silent Brothers confirmed there was nothing that there was nothing that could have been done differently to have saved it, that it wasn’t uncommon to lose a child in the early stages of pregnancy.

That was the cruel irony, wasn’t it? To feel so much regret, to have your child die inside of you, and not know what went wrong.

They’d tried again, and then she was pregnant with Anna. The whole time she had been so horribly sick, she was terrified of losing another child. This time, however, she’d been pregnant long enough that she’d have to give birth to the child, whether it was alive or dead.

Those months had been the worst in Cecily’s entire life. Not even when her father had gambled away their home in Wales, the one she had memories of running with Will and Ella down valleys, had she felt such despair.

“Mam?”

Cecily shook her head, bringing herself back to the drawing room sofa, beside Kit.

“What is it, bach?”

“Does the baby have a name yet?”

Cecily rubbed her belly. “Not yet. Why do you ask?”

Kit shrugged.

Cecily suddenly felt a contraction. She started the pocket watch timer and sat forward and breathed deeply to try to relieve the pain. This one felt longer than the rest had been.

Kit looked at her from over his book, his eyebrows together.

Once it had passed, Cecily stopped the timer. After a couple of seconds of recovering from the contraction, she looked at the time, and swallowed.

“Kit,” she said as calmly as she could. “Bach, I need you to ring for the Silent Brothers.”

…

Brother Enoch, Zachariah and another brother Cecily couldn’t remember were preparing for the birth. Christopher had helped her up the stairs, before the brothers had come, and was now standing in a far corner of the room, at loss for what he should do.

“Christopher.” She said, motioning for him to come.

“You needn’t be here. I’ll be fine and your father will soon be here. I already asked Sophie to send him here once he stops by after sledding. You can wait outside until then.”

“But Mam, I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I won’t be alone. I’m with the Silent Brothers.”

Christopher looked over his shoulder at the Brothers.

Cecily put a hand under his chin and turned his face to face her own. She smiled at him.

“Go, Kit. It’s alright. I’ve done this before.” She said with a smile.

“I want to stay here. With you.”

Cecily tried to rub away a smudge on Christopher’s face, perhaps something to do with his most recent experiment.

“I don’t think you do, bach. When people say birth is a natural process, it’s because they’re trying to glorify a process that’s ghastly.”

Cecily looked deep into his lavender eyes and smiled. “Now go, before I start crowning. Trust me when I say you’ll wish you’d have gone.”

Christopher made to move, but didn’t get up.

“I want to help you. I want to stay with you the way you stayed when I got my first rune.”

Cecily wanted to argue that this was different but she suddenly got a contraction that was long enough she knew she’d have to push at any moment.

Sure enough, Brother Enoch said, you must begin pushing soon, Cecily Lightwood.

“You have to be sure, Christopher.” She said through her teeth. “One-hundred percent sure. And you must stay on this side of the bed, because I don’t want you to see the birthing process. I’ll only let you stay because if not I’m afraid you’ll ‘stress experiment’ and blow up the house.”

Kit nodded quickly.

“Alright then.” She said.

Are you ready to push?

“Yes. Let’s finish what we started, Enoch.” Cecily said, taking Christopher’s hand in her own and bracing herself for the birth.

…

Congratulations, Cecily Lightwood, it’s a boy. Enoch said in her head, less than half an hour later.

Cecily fell back on the pillows, exhausted. Birth never really got easier over the years.

Jem came around with the baby in his arms and gave him to Cecily. She swore she saw him stroke the baby’s hair as he walked to her. She smiled up at him.

“Thank you, Jem.” She said, quietly.

He inclined his head at her and walked away.

Cecily looked down at her youngest son for the first time. She’d helped other women give birth when she was younger, and had always thought newborn babies ugly, but whenever she looked down at her own, they were the most beautiful and perfect little things in the entire world. She smiled and offered the little baby her finger to hold.

Like with all of her other children, she felt her eyes sting. There was something about holding her child for the first time that always brought chills to Cecily’s body. It’s not like when she held Anna for the first time, the feeling she felt that her life would forever be changed, but it was more like when Christopher was born; she didn’t feel any fear, just happiness. She kissed the baby’s forehead.

“I wish you could have met your grandparents.” She whispered.

Edmund and Linette had passed away four months ago, and it had been difficult for Cecily not having been able to visit them when they were still alive. Since she was pregnant, she and the baby would be at high risk of death, if she caught the influenza disease.

She tried to shake off the memory. Right now, she only wanted to focus on the good things in life, not the bad.

She looked up and saw Christopher a distance away from where she was. He must have moved away from her once the baby was out and the Silent Brothers began moving about, preparing the child to be held and checking to make sure everything was alright. Christopher looked at the baby in wonder, one of the first babies he’d ever seen.

“Come meet your brother, Kit.” She said, holding a hand out.

She motioned for Christopher to sit next to her on the bed and, resting the baby on her chest momentarily, demonstrated how to position his arms.

“That’s right, bach.” She said, lifting the baby to put in Kit's arms.

“Mam,” he said nervously. “What if I drop him?”

Cecily smiled. “You won’t. I have faith in you.”

She gently placed the baby in his brother’s arms, Christopher looking like he was holding his breath.

“Breathe, darling. It’s just your brother. Look at how much he likes you. He’s already reaching out to you.” The baby’s hands were indeed opening and closing slowly. Cecily helped Christopher adjust his arms, so that he was supporting the baby’s head better, and when she sat back, she felt a pang in her chest at seeing her two sons together. Christopher had a soft smile on his lips, the smile that many people had told her is the same as her own.

Sometime after she’d put the baby in Kit’s arms, a Silent Brother told her she needed to push out the placenta, so that they could begin healing the tears induced by the birth. She nodded and when she began pushing again, Kit looked up, confused.

“Is there another one?” He asked, surprised, his eyes wide with curiosity.

“Heavens, no. Thank the Angel. It’s just the placenta.”

Christopher still looked confused.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about, bach.” She reassured him.

…

The Silent Brothers were gone by the time Gabriel and Anna got home.

Cecily had been feeding the baby, and Christopher was reading a book on his back, keeping her company. He’d given up on reading The Picture of Dorian Gray, had switched it for a book on science. Cecily had tried to read a couple of sentences, but was deeply confused by them, not being able to understand a thing.

“I don’t know how you can read that, Christopher. I can’t follow a single sentence, much less the entire book.”

Kit looked up at her. “It’s not that hard, it’s just that Biology is interconnected, so you have to understand the previous concepts to understand this one.”

Cecily laughed. “You put a lot of faith in me, Kit.”

Christopher tilted his head to the side.

“What are you reading about now?”

“Genetics. Why children come out looking like their parents.”

“There’s an explanation behind that?” She asked.

“Yes! We all inherit half of our genes from our mother and half from our father.”

“Are you sure? I can’t imagine your father inheriting anything from Benedict.”

“It’s more so to do with physical traits.” Kit explained. “Like blue eyes or green eyes.”

“That’s quite interesting, bach.” she said.

And that’s how Cecily got a lesson on genetics. She was happy to listen to her son talk happily about science and to have her new baby in her arms and be able to kiss his tiny, soft nose and occasionally ruffle Christopher’s hair.

…

“By the Angel, Cecy.” Gabriel said, coming inside, worried. Both Anna and Gabriel had a lot of snow on their coats. They must have come home running after hearing the news. “Are you alright? Is the baby?”

“Yes, yes. Stop worrying.” Cecily said, holding up the bundle of blankets they’d hidden the baby inside of.

Anna’s eyes widened as her eyes landed on the bundle in Cecily’s arms. “Is that the baby? It’s so small.”

Cecily nodded and Anna walked quickly to kneel beside the bed and smiled at the baby.

“Hello.” She whispered, touching his cheek lightly.

“This is your new brother,” Cecily said, smiling at Anna.

Gabriel leaned in over Cecily’s shoulder, close enough that she could see his face as he smiled down at his youngest child. He put a hand on her shoulder, and kissed her temple lightly while Anna cooed at the baby.

…

A few moments later, Anna was sitting on the armchair across the room, holding the baby for the first time, Christopher standing to the side, letting the baby hold his finger.

Gabriel leaned close to her and whispered, “what do you think about Alexander?”

Cecily turned to look at him and smiled. “Alexander?”

Gabriel shrugged, brushing her hair away from her face. “I was thinking about names while I took Anna sledding. I tried to come up with names for each letter of the alphabet and I got to ‘Maxwell’ before I thought of Alexander.”

Cecily looked back at her children, interlacing her hand with Gabriel’s. “What made you think of Alexander?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Maybe the letter ‘X’ that they have in common.”

Cecily felt her smile grow wider. “I love it. Alexander.”

She felt Gabriel put his arms around her and she rested her head on his warm chest.

“The birth wasn’t that bad, was it?” Gabriel said, his voice lightly amused.

“Go to hell.” Cecily mumbled against his shirt.

Tagging: @tsccreatorsnet @atla-lok143 @rinadragomir @youngreckless @autumnangel20 @julemmaes @cupcakesandkittens @no-scones-allowed @fictionally-fantastic @stxr-thxif @writeforjordelia @itsdaughterofthemoon @jordeliasupremacy @cordelia-cardale @will-effing-herondale @axoloteca @heronstairs2014 @ilovemanicures

If you want to be on my tag list, or if you changed your url recently and your not in the tag list anymore, let me know! Oh, an if you asked to be on the tag list and you’re not on it, please tell me (I’m very absentminded haha)

#cecily lightwood #gabriel lightwood #cecily x gabriel #alexander lightwood #christopher lightwood #anna lightwood #tsc #tsc fanfictions #tlh fanfiction #tid fanfiction

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villxinoux · 3 years ago

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REPOST AND LIST 5 SONGS THAT INSPIRE YOU TO WRITE YOUR MUSE:

island of the misfit boy by front porch step — well i made a few jokes but they said they weren't funny. i tried to force a smile but they said it was ugly. i tried to make a friend but no one was a friend to me. poured my heart to a girl & it went on the floor. i asked her what she wanted & she said she wanted more.

sex with a ghost by teddy hyde — the only time i ever see her is when she's behind me in the mirror. even from a distance i can hear her. i try to listen, but her whispers make my ears hurt. on our dates it's never daytime. when she gets playful with a steak knife, i need a break, maybe i'll take five. shake it up & medicate, maybe I'll take five.

achilles come down by gang of youths — achilles, achilles, achilles, come down. won't you get up off, get up off the roof? the self is not so weightless, nor whole & unbroken; remember the pact of our youth? where you go, i'm going, so jump & i'm jumping, since there is no me without you. soldier on, achilles, achilles, come down. won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

if i tremble by front porch step — i see the fear in your eyes. i feel the pain in your heart. how can something so well put together be so torn apart? you are the beauty i want. you are the angel i need. i find the proof of god in every single word that you speak. you smell like girly shampoo. i love when i smell like you ; reminds me why i wake up. & if I tremble at the sight of you, it's not because i'm cold. it's because i'm staring at the girl i want to love me when I'm old.

simple man by shinedown — take your time, don't live too fast. troubles will come & they will pass. you'll find a woman & you'll find love. &don't forget, son, there is someone up above. & be a simple kind of man. oh, be something you love & understand.

& LIST 5 QUOTES THAT INSPIRE YOU TO WRITE YOUR MUSE:

we don’t read & write poetry because it’s cute. we read & write poetry because we are members of the human race. & the human race is filled with passion. & medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits & necessary to sustain life. but poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for — dead poets society.

so avoid using the word ‘very’, because it’s lazy. a man is not very tired, he is exhausted. don’t use very sad, use morose. language was invented for one reason, boys - to woo women - &, in that endeavor, lazinesss will not do. it also won’t do in your essays. — dead poets society.

i have given away my whole soul to someone who treats it as if it were a flower to put on his coat — oscar wilde, from the picture of dorian gray.

what is art? like a declaration of love — andrei tarkovsky, from sculpting in time.

nothing ever ends poetically. it ends & we turn it into poetry. all that blood was never once beautiful. it was just red. — kait rokowski.

#( j o n a s ) headcanons .#thank u for the tag @tewwor !#u give me all the excuses to write abt jonas n i love it

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childrenofthenightt · 4 years ago

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only the black rose (chapter 5)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: talks of parental abandonment, off-scene injury, drug use (legal!), fluff, and me waxing poetic about one of my favourite books. and more fluff.

words: 3.1k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: this one wrote itself. i expected to take longer with it cause of this. this is the start of the Chaos seen in the 1975 North American tour, so hold onto your hats and enjoy! congrats! you’ve unlocked layla’s tragic backstory! unbeta’d as always, and here’s the link to the playlist :)

masterlist

playlist

chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

----------

Soon enough, the band make their way home, basking in the golden glow of a couple of excellent shows. It’s only a matter of days until the start of the North American tour, and the excitement is palpable. The boys find themselves at the studio, running through some last-minute tour details, accompanied by a certain brunette firecracker, who sits reading comfortably in the lobby.

Layla, sitting on a luxurious couch just outside of the meeting room, is drowning in a hardcover book, consuming every word at a ravenous pace. The sound of pages flipping periodically is accompanied by the light din of voices detailing the upcoming tour. Lost in the story in front of her, she is surprised when she hears a person clearing their throat, seemingly right in front of her. Looking up, she spots the secretary of Swan Song Records, a woman with glasses and long brown hair ran through with gray, pinned up in a low bun. Light freckles dusted her cheeks. Judging by the crow’s feet at the corners of her hazel eyes, the secretary had to have been older than Layla, perhaps around 50, though her bright smile gave the impression of youth.

“Sorry to interrupt, Miss… I just couldn’t help but notice the book you were reading. I don’t see many fans of the classics around here, especially ones so young.”

Recovering from the shock of being ripped out of the hypnotising story she was wrapped up in, Layla gestures to the seat next to her. With a bright smile, the secretary smoothes down her pencil skirt, and sits down.

“My mother was a literature buff, and it seems she’s passed that down to me! My name’s Layla. You’re Evelyn, right?”

“Y-Yes, I am! How do you…”

“Well, I had to put a name to the lovely secretary that gives me a smile whenever I see her. Makes my day, if I’m being honest.”

“You’re too sweet, darling,” Evelyn says, lips turning up warmly, eyes dancing with joy. “If I may, what are your thoughts on the book? It’s a personal favourite of mine, and it’s always nice to hear new opinions.”

“Well,” Layla starts, lighting up as she speaks. “Wilde’s language paints such a beautiful, vivid picture, and the characters are so interesting, even if they aren’t morally likeable, most of the time. They make mistakes… Many mistakes… but we sympathize with them.”

At this, Layla cups her hand around her mouth, whispering to Evelyn mischievously, as if what she was about to say was the world’s most important secret.

“It’s a favourite of mine too.”

The two women laugh, Evelyn’s hand falling across Layla’s arm, a comforting, grounding weight. Evelyn, with a warm smile gracing her face, crow’s feet as prominent as ever, sends a pang of longing into Layla’s heart. Not for love, but for her old life. Her friends worried out of their minds over her disappearance; her mother, left alone not once, but twice. Her father had left when she was a child, and it had been her and her mother ever since. Layla learned to put up walls, so that she’d never be hurt like that again. They all leave in the end. It’s better that way. Better not to get attached. Better not to get hurt.

“That’s a lovely interpretation, Layla. You know,” Evelyn says, interrupting Layla’s train of thought. “For someone so young, you have an old soul. Wise beyond your years, for sure.”

“You have no idea…”

“Well, I must get to work, darling,” Evelyn claps her hands together, and stands up, resting a hand on Layla’s arm once more. “I’d love to chat again, though. Such refreshing opinions from such a young woman. I’ll let you get back to your book.”

“I would love to! We’ll make plans soon, I promise. Have a wonderful day, Evelyn!” With that, Layla opens the novel, and is taken once again by the current of the story. Minutes pass, until Layla is interrupted once more, this time by a soft press of lips against the crown of her head.

“Everything alright, Layla?”

“Of course, Jim,” Layla says, reaching out to grasp Jimmy’s hand in return. “How did the meeting go?”

“Well, you were right outside the door, I’m surprised you didn’t eavesdrop,” He takes a seat beside her, and reaches down to tap at the book still nestled in Layla’s hand, her finger keeping the page. “You were too engrossed in this, I bet. What are you reading anyways?”

Layla lifts the book to show the cover, which is a slightly worn navy blue, with golden accents in the form of small droplets. In metallic lettering, read ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’.

“Oscar Wilde, hey? Wouldn’t have pegged you for a lover of the classics.”

“I spent my teenage years with Austen and Dickens, after all.”

“I didn’t think you were that old.”

Layla rolls her eyes, a fond look upon her features. Smiling at the man in front of her, she puts a hand to his cheek.

“Yeah, I’m a real cradle-robber.”

“Just make sure my mum doesn’t hear about this relationship: she’ll have a fit.”

“I’ll be careful, angel,” Layla laughs, putting a pensive finger to her chin. “Hey, Jimmy? Do you have a good relationship with your parents?” Jimmy smiles wide at the question and nods, dark curls bobbing at the movement. He absentmindedly takes Layla’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb in soft circles across her wrist.

“My parents… They’ve always been very supportive of me in every way, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to find a way to thank them,” Jimmy squeezes her hand briefly, meeting her eyes. “You know, I bet they’d love you.”

“Do you really think so?” Layla’s cheeks grow warm, and her lips tilt upwards in a smile that is uncharacteristically shy.

“Of course I do, petal,” Jimmy says, pushing a fallen lock of hair behind Layla’s ear, his touch featherlight. “How about you? What are your parents like?”

“Well… My dad… He left us when I was young, so it’s been me and my mom ever since,” This is marked with a moment of silence, and Layla’s eyes meet her shoes, pointedly not looking at Jimmy. “My mom’s probably the strongest person I’ve ever met, and I truly can’t thank her enough for everything she’s done for me. She’s my best friend.”

The silence continues, until Layla feels a calloused finger at her jaw, lifting her chin. Finally flicking her eyes up to gaze at the guitarist, she’s shocked by the concern and sadness she sees in those emerald green eyes.

“Petal, I…”

“Jim, it’s fine. It—”

“It’s not fine, Layla. It’s not. I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve that. Either of you.” Jimmy pulls her into a tight hug, long arms wrapping around her, making her feel safe. They stay like this for what feels like hours, breaking apart slowly.

“Jimmy, I… Thank you.”

“Of course. Now, how about you read me some of that book of yours?”

Layla laughs brightly, albeit a little watery, and smiles at Jimmy, eyes shining with gratitude. Shuffling, she positions herself in his lap, legs hanging off the end of the couch as his arm comes to rest across her back, holding her steady against his chest. She opens the book, dog-earing the corner of the page she was reading, before flipping back to the start.

“Petal, as much as I like this, I thought we were gonna take it slow? I don’t think public places are the best idea to… Well…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jimmy,” Layla says, smirk gracing her face as she speaks. “You just make a very comfortable chair.”

Jimmy’s laugh is music to her ears, and she presses a light kiss to his cheek. Focusing on the book in her hand, she begins to read:

“The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.”

----------

‘Was it all true? Had the portrait really changed? Or had it been simply his own imagination that had made him see a look of evil where there had been a look of joy?’

The next day had arrived, and Layla sits at her kitchen table, enraptured once again by the writings of Oscar Wilde. The words on the page enchant her, and she has no desire to put the novel down anytime soon. She’d have to tell Evelyn all about it, the next time she sees her.

‘Surely a painted canvas could not alter? The thing was absurd. It would serve as a tale to tell Basil some day. It would make him smile. And, yet, how vivid was his recollection—’

A shrill ringing pulls her out of the carefully crafted narrative of Dorian Gray. Layla huffs, annoyed at the intrusion, and moves to pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Layla! Hi, good to hear from you, hope you’re having a great day so far! Lovely weather we’re having, hey?” The slightly nasal voice of one Robert Plant, crackles through the phone, and Layla sighs at his exuberance.

“Robert, hey. What is it?”

“Uh… Please don’t freak out. It’s really not that bad, and everyone is… mostly… fine?”

“Rob—”

This is followed by a noise in the background, a sort of crackle, as if Robert had shifted the phone to his other hand. Layla can hear the way his breath picks up, the way panic seeps into his voice. “Just a heads up that we’ll be at your place in about… 10 minutes! See you then!”

“What is going on? I was reading, I’m really not in the mood for—”

Another crackle, and a sigh from Robert’s end of the line. Layla runs a hand through her hair, biting her lip in an attempt to quell the panic rising in her throat.

“Promise me you won’t freak out, little dove.”

Layla exhales sharply through her nose, unimpressed at the plea of the man on the other line. Coiling the telephone cord around her finger to calm her nerves, she responds.

“Fine, I’m not gonna freak out. Now, tell me what happened.”

“Well… Um… Jimmy, well, he kinda… got his… finger slammed in a train door?”

“...”

“Layla? Are you still there?”

“How?!”

“I told you not to freak out…”

“Robert!” Layla exclaims, concern painted clearly on her flushed face.

“Okay, okay, he told us he was holding the door open for someone on the way to Swan Song, and well… You know the rest.”

“Is he going to be okay?”

Another sigh sounds from the other line, and Layla waits in anticipation for his response, growing anxious with each passing moment. Finally, she hears the man’s response, and deflates with relief, sinking into the chair beside her.

“He should be fine. Like I said before, we’re gonna come get you right away. He’ll be okay, Layla.”

“Okay…Robert?”

“Yes, little dove?

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” Robert chuckles lightly, bringing a smile to Layla’s face, the undercurrent of anxiety still coursing through her. She thinks it will stay that way, until she sees Jimmy, makes sure he’s okay. “We’ll be there in 10 minutes. Sit tight, Layla.”

Layla sits at the kitchen table, biting her thumbnail, mind elsewhere, until she hears the telltale sound of a car pulling up, engine cutting out. Flying out the door, She spots Jonesy in the driver’s seat, Bonzo next to him, with Robert in the back. Opening the door, she sits next to the blond, and he gazes over at her, putting a hand to her shoulder. Sympathy flashes across his face as he takes in the shocked look Layla’s sporting.

“He’ll be okay, Layla. He will.”

“Robert, I… Jonesy, please, just drive?”

“Right.”

The engine rumbles to life, and they’re off, no doubt speeding to whatever hospital Jimmy’s holed up in. Layla lets her thoughts drift to Jimmy. She wonders how he’s doing, if he’s in any pain, if they’re treating him well. She’s distracted enough that she barely feels Robert’s hand, warm and comforting, on her knee. Layla is snapped out of her thoughts by a particularly sharp turn, and she looks up at Robert, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Rob… What if he’s… not okay? It was his finger. That means that he might not be able to play, if it’s bad enough,” She stammers, eyes frantic in their search of the blond’s face. “His guitar is his life, and—”

“Layla, calm down. It’ll be okay. It won’t do us any good to think like that.” Robert leans over, throwing his arm around her shoulder as best he could in the cramped car. To his surprise, she leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Layla unconsciously brings a hand up to bite her thumbnail, and catching the action, Robert places his hand on hers, pushing it back down to rest in her lap. They stay that way until the car rolls to a stop in the hospital parking lot. Layla lifts her head from Robert’s shoulder with breakneck speed, scrambling out of the car.

“Layla, wait!” Jonesy calls out, running after the woman, who dashes through the door. Robert and Bonzo catch up, just as Layla reaches the front desk, panting from exertion. The nurse on shift looks at her, eyes wide, shocked at the display.

“Excuse me, love,” Bonzo says, tucking Layla under his arm as he speaks to the nurse. “We’re looking for James Page? He was brought in for a fractured finger, I believe?”

“...Yes, right. What is your relationship with the patient?”

“We’re his bandmates, we can call our manager if you need proof. Please, we just need to see if he’s okay.”

The nurse eyes the group dubiously, and grabs the chart sitting next to her, looking through it. Glancing at the group again, she points behind them, to a room packed with seats, posters and pamphlets lining the walls.

“It seems that Mr. Page is still with the doctor getting X-rayed, so I’m going to need you to take a seat in the waiting area. Give that manager of yours a call, and we’ll see what we can do for you.”

“Thank you, love.” Bonzo says, as he herds the group over to the soft, patterned armchairs, plopping down with a sigh. Jonesy excuses himself to make a phone call to Peter, the others left waiting for news that won’t come fast enough.

Jimmy has to be okay. He has to.

----------

“For James Page?” The nurse’s voice rings out across the waiting area, and the group shoot up from their seats, stiff backs groaning in protest. “Follow me.”

The nurse leads them through a labyrinth of hallways, stopping finally at a room with a large 164 pasted on the closed door. Through the window looking into the room, Layla spots Jimmy asleep under the covers, his hands atop the sheets, resting on his stomach. He looks peaceful, she thinks, like he’s devoid of pain. If she couldn’t see the injured hand at all, she’d have thought he was perfectly fine.

The group finally walk into the room, the sharp smell of antiseptic burning their nostrils. Hearing the click of the door opening, Jimmy opens his eyes, pupils blown wide. His irises are almost black, and he sends them a dopey smile, a giggle bursting out.

“Hey, guys. Fancy seeing you all here.” Jimmy slurs, laughing harder now, as though he had told the most hilarious joke in the world. The boys join in, amused by the antics of their guitarist. Layla hangs back, staring at Jimmy, concern clear on her face. She had spotted the injured finger on the way in, which was already bruised a deep purple, the fingernail completely blackened.

“They give you the good stuff, Pagey?”

“You know it, Jonesy.” Jimmy shoots the bassist a sloppy wink, and the group erupts into soft laughter once more. Taking a dazed glance around the room, the raven-haired man pouts, completely endearing in his drugged state. “Hey… where’s Layla?”

Peter, who had been standing next to the bed, moves aside, and glassy green met warm brown. The guitarist smiles softly, relaxing back into the pillows. He sticks out his uninjured hand, and she walks closer to take it. Never lessening her grip, Layla threads the fingers of her free hand through Jimmy’s messy curls, and looks down at him fondly.

“How’re you doing, champ?”

“Good, now that you’re here. I would kiss you right now… if I wasn’t seeing two of you.”

“They must have him on the really good stuff…” Layla throws over her shoulder, looking back at the injured guitarist. He’s looking up at her with unabashed affection, and she can’t help but blush at the adoration in his gaze.

“Sorry to interrupt,” comes from the open doorway, as Jimmy’s doctor steps through. “I’m Dr. Vane, I treated James when he came in. If you’d kindly step out for a moment, I’d like to go over his prognosis.”

The boys file out of the room, and Layla goes to follow, stopped in her tracks by Jimmy tugging her back towards him with a whimper. She gives in, sinking back down in the chair at his bedside.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Jimmy. I was so scared when Robert called. I thought...”

“I’m glad you’re here, petal. Now, come into bed with me. I want to see you better.” Jimmy mutters, scooting over to make room for her to fit in the small hospital bed. Layla laughs, nodding, and crawls in beside him, careful not to hurt him. She turns on her side, her hand landing in his hair again. Jimmy looks up at her, pupils still dilated, and presses a quick peck on her lips, giggling anew.

“You’re so beautiful. Have I ever told you that you’re beautiful? ‘Cause you are.” He insists, slurred speech returning in full force, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Go to sleep, Jimmy. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He hums softy in response and a few seconds later, Jimmy’s breathing evens out. He’s dead to the world. Through the door left ajar, Layla can hear snippets of the conversation with the doctor.

“... Fractured the tip of his finger… At least a month.”

“Will he be able to play anytime soon?” That was Peter, voice soft with worry for the frail man in the hospital bed.

“He should rest… Not good to put too much strain on it… Keeping him here until the anaesthetic wears off.”

Tuning them out, Layla looks down at the man sleeping beside her. His hair is matted on one side of his head, and he snores louder than he’d ever admit, but he looks peaceful. He’s not in any pain, and that’s enough for Layla. She drifts off, as the sound of footsteps against the floor draw near. Her tired eyes open to slits, and she sees a shadow with dark, shoulder-length and a beard. It must be Bonzo, she thinks. The last thing Layla hears before succumbing to the exhaustion that plagues her, is the drummer’s soothing voice, hushed to a whisper.

“Let them sleep.”

----------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 (let me know if you want to be added!)

#only the black rose #led zeppelin #jimmy page #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page fanfic #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic #jimmy x oc

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iwannaholdyoutight- · 4 years ago

Text

Pintaga (a summer fic challenge)

Fresh fruit. Friends to lovers. Longing.

a/n: it’s finally here! This piece of writing couldn’t happen without the one and only @helladirections. She organized this amazing challenge and you guys should read everything from her and this challenge. Please, don’t forget to reblog, this is my first fic in a very long time and I would love to see people reading it.

word count: 8k

Preview:

In the air Harry could smell the jasmines, coming from the perfume of the girl with the blue heart shaped sunglasses and dressed with a yellow one piece with little white flowers sewed to it - a vintage piece she got just the day before on a thrift shop when they were exploring. He could listen to the faint Mick Jagger voice repeating the verse “pretty pretty girl” and he couldn’t disagree, she was a pretty girl indeed.

There was nothing he wanted more than get her in his arms, tell her he didn’t know it was possible to fall in love without even kissing the person for a first time. He wanted to press his nose into her neck and feel the shivers that would pass through her body.

When Harry had to postpone his tour, he was sad. But, when 2021 finally came, he was just so happy to be able to reconnect with his fans. To see people’s faces and knowing that each person has their own story to tell when they listen to his songs. He loves that.

It was during tour that he met Angelino, a new music producer with very different methods in his technique: zither in a mix with glam rock, alfaias with hip hop. To put it short: they became fast friends when they met on a night out after the Vegas show.

And it was thanks to Angelino he met her. It was raining so much when the words left his friends mouth “I want you to meet someone” yet she was the sunshine walking inside the hotel.

She wasn’t shy but also didn’t do everything to draw any attention to her. Harry was captivated to say at least. Maybe was her smile or maybe was the way she looked with such care when taking to anyone. Sadly, they couldn’t see each other for longer than a few hours. Harry had a plane to catch, she was a movie and arts major in Italy and was only there to visit a friend. But Harry just couldn’t let her go, there was something about her, he wanted to know what was hidden behind those colorful outfits she wore and all the smart talk they had during that same rainy afternoon. Being in his position he had to be careful, what he would give to be “normal” for just 5 minutes so he could flirt with this cute girl, get her number and maybe ask her on a date. But he wasn’t. So he settled with an Instagram follow and a promises she would dm him books and movies he should check it up.

The first book she made him read was Dorian Gray - she was shocked to know he never read anything by Oscar Wilde. In exchange he tried to make this curious stubborn girl give Murakami a second chance (she still hates the book and he couldn’t lie, he got a bit sad about it).

After a few months of conversation he finally gave in and asked for her number. From this day on, they would never stop texting each other, to the point Jeff would complain about how “he’s always on his phone and never actually listening”.

He got so close to her and was admired with how free she was. After 20 something years stuck in her hometown she decided she wanted to met the world. Entered this course in Italy with a scholarship (she is very smart to the point it Harry is intimidated) and never looked back.

Harry told her about his first big break up, that inspired Fine Line, told her about his fears and how love is a difficult subject when it comes to him. The loving part it’s easy the problem is when the enchantment dies and all there is left are two broken people. The one to move on first it’s always the happiest.

But he couldn’t always live on his phone talking to this girl who makes him weak in the knees. He had interviews to attend and shows to perform. When tour finally ended, he was tired but sad, a deep space in his heart felt so empty. It’s the first time in three years he didn’t have nothing planned and he was only starting his new album in a few months.

Harry needed a break, a nice holiday. Sadly London was cold and so was his emotions. So, when that same girl told him about this island called “Fernando de Noronha” around the South American continent and that her aunt got a house there and asked if he wanted to join her on 10 days trip there… he just couldn’t say no!

It’s summertime whenever she is around and well… it is summertime in the south so it’s a win win for Harry, honestly.

🐠

And that’s where Harry finds himself right now… bathing in the sun together with this amazing girl that makes him feel all mushy inside and nervous. He is almost a 30 year old man, he shouldn't be so nervous around her, but it’s inevitable.

The moment he got off the plane, he was in love. The island was beautiful. Blue skies that mix with the blue of the ocean and the horizon. Everything seemed to be made out of glitter and rainbow colors. There was music every night, people were singing and dancing. During the day there was street fairs, boat rides and the beautiful golden light that was didn’t come only from the sun, but also a light that shined through this amazing young woman when she was laughing and trying (and failing) to play volleyball with a group of teens on the beach. They didn’t stay in a fancy hotel, they were in a simple yet beautiful house, without any neighborhood but when they went out they always went to the simplest places, surrounded by simple people. People who might know who he was, but mostly just didn’t care. Sure, he was asked to take some pictures but that was the most normal he ever felt since he was a teenager. There was a rich part in the island, lots of famous people from South America liked to spend their summer there- but for one, Harry was grateful to stay like this.

All thanks to her...

The summer breeze in his face being exactly what he needed. He was living those sweet days of summer he was denied in 2020 because of the pandemic and in 2021 because of the tour.

He wanted to kiss her and keep her forever by his side so they could be happily ever after. But Harry couldn’t. He was bad at love and he would rather have her as a friend than doing something and fucking up her as well.

“What did you say” she asked while lifting up from the towel she had on the floor, raising her sunglasses over that beautiful sun kissed hair (it was shining so much) and attentively looking at him.

“I didn’t say a thing” was he thinking out loud? Oh my god�� he is fucked if that was that case.

“You said something about being bad at love. Why do you think that?”

Harry sat down and took a deep breath.

“I talked to you about my love life before… I don’t think I was made for love. Some people can find love at every corner, but it doesn’t matter how hard I try, every time I think I got it right… the person just vanish out of the tips of my fingers. And I feel so bad talking about this when I know I can have anything I want, but it hurts when I’m alone in a bedroom or I’m being the third wheel again with my friends. I’m just so lonely all the time and every time I try… it just ends shitty. I get a few good songs out of it but the pain sometimes it’s just not worth it”.

She looked at the ocean, the sun was already so high in the sky, it was probably around 11 am. Then, looking back at Harry, she gave him a weak smile. She felt like he was a mixture of everything good and he didn't deserve to feel like he wasn’t cut for love. If she could and he let her… she would give him all the love it was possible and impossible.

“Just because it ended doesn’t mean it was bad. If it made you happy, even if just for one second, it was worth it. And even when it hurts, we always learn something.” She took a deep breath, waiting for him to say something while Harry just looked at her with soft eyes but so much sadness and sorrow behind them. He didn’t know what to say, so she decided to continue: “you know, I call it bullshit when poets say love is only good if it hurts. Love isn’t made for pain, sometimes it might happen, but love is made to give warmth and to make the soul feel like it’s being caressed in a whisper that says ‘you found me’. And there are many types of love, not all of them are made to last a lifetime”.

He gave her a smile:

“Do you think there is still someone to love me or have I missed my chance?”

That was her chance:

“I think if you look right… you will find it right next to you, so close it would surprise you” she gave him a knowing look and decided to change the subject “wanna put on some clothes and go to the street fair? We can have lunch in there, buy some nice fresh fruits and have a picnic when the sun starts to set. You can make a playlist while a set a nice towel with candles and everything we might need. Maybe… we could try some of that stuff I got yesterday, what do you say?”

That stuff being the Argyreia seeds a friend of her had given as a gift. They were in the fridge inside a pot of water - apparently you have to leave them at least 12 hours on it so it could be ready to use. Among the effects they found of Google you could suffer from synesthesia episodes, positive elevation of your humor, sensitive to touch among others. A normal (and legal, apparently) natural hallucinogen.

Harry decided to play cool with her confession (he thinks it was a confession) and just smirks at her as a confirmation for the rest of their day. Maybe then, he’ll have the courage to kiss her. He gets up first, offering his hand, she takes it, getting up. Being barefoot, she had to look up to talk to him, their hands intertwined, noses almost touching. Looking inside his eyes, she thinks Harry must be a magical being, that could be the only explanation to how his eyes could change color to match the nature. Normally green but right now his eyes were almost blue, maybe was the sun, maybe was the sky without a single cloud; one thing was clear: his eyes were matching the ocean and the sky but also the leaves on the palm trees with the green left in them.

Leading the way, they got inside the house. In a secluded area (you just had to walk a lot but it wasn’t in the middle of the fancy big mansions- the house was colorful - just like everything about this island). The wood backdoor was the way they go when coming back from the beach . As soon as they entered through the gate, was a little stone way, with red and pink poppies adorning both sides, they went to the shower the house had on the outside so none of them would make a mess inside the house with sand everywhere. Then, I sei de the house, walking through the open plan kitchen, that was out of a sixties movie. Almost everything looked vintage with the most beautiful dining table they had ever seen: made out of dark wood and tall chairs, her aunt said this table was from her great grandmother.

Then there was two little steps and it was the living room, with a lot of space, three couches and a lot of pieces of art, it looked like someone had just throw different items but, somehow made it work. Harry went to sit on a plastic chair there was right in the corner of the room and looked at the very wet very sunburnt girl:

“You can go get ready first, I’ll wait” she smiled and thanked him, going upstairs and leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. Looking at the yellow wall full of paintings from the people of the island, he didn’t know what to do to himself, he was fucked. He got up from the chair and went to the vinyl player that stood on the far left of the living room with three boxes next to it, opening he found a lot of vinyls. Settling for one he never heard before: Caetano Veloso - Transa, he put to play. He knew about Caetano, he even putted one of his songs to play at the one night only event, the name of the song was Baby and at the time was his ex girlfriend who had showed him, but right now the only thing he could think about when listening to this very psychedelic song that was playing through the speakers, the only thing he could think about is the same girl who is taking a shower just a few feet away and how much he wants the hours to pass faster so they can get high and listen to the playlist he was making and was to add also this album he was listening, especially after a quick google research about it, having now the acknowledge that transa translates to sex.

She came downstairs with her hair still wet, wearing her old pink converse and a yellow sundress, with the cute straps and a short but very loose ends. She had this glow someone can only achieve when you just spend the day at the beach with dear ones. Free of any makeup she was with his ray bans and gave him a soft look “I hope you don’t mind I got your ray bans to wear. They just look they were made for this outfit”.

“No problem. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be done”.

Taking the fastest shower he ever took in his life, he put on some old jeans short and his favorite pink summer shirt. And he ran - literally ran - downstairs because he felt like this was a date. He was excited.

“So, wanna take the bikes or see if we can get an Uber” there was this thing, neither one of them had the license required for the island and even if the Uber app worked there… it was hard to find drivers who were willing to drive to such a far area.

“Let’s take the bikes. They have baskets so whatever we buy we can just carry back”

“Sure”

They went through the front door, the house was painted in blue, to match the ocean, with lots of different plants and those same plants, especially the clambering plants, gave the house this almost fairy vibe. Like it was made of a golden and rainbow dust and everything that it’s good. The bikes were located near the wall and close to the small pool. One bike was white and the other was of a bright orange. Harry got the bright one because it was slightly bigger, so he would feel more comfortable.

🍓

They rode the bike for around 10 minutes, passing fields and trees that were so tall it almost felt like their leaves were kissing each other. Harry kept ruming gold and braid by stevie nicks the whole ride while dividing his attention between the girl riding the white bike a few meters ahead and the surrounding area. There was no one in sight for the first few minutes, but the closer they got to the center of the island, more people started to appear. In a few days living in the island he already observed that he could pinpoint who was a tourist and who was a native by one thing: the clothes.

The citizens always dressed like it was just a normal day (like imagine you normal day it’s living in paradise) and people from the outside always went out like it was a beach party everyday. As soon as Harry notice that, he always made sure to dress quite simple, so people could pass him by. Of course, sometimes someone would try and talk to him with the native language (which he learned is portuguese and not spanish, as he originally thought it would be).

They descarted their bikes on a small wall that was made for this purpose, with digital locks and everything (it was 5 bucks the hour and all you had to do when it was the time to pick it up you just put on your card to pay for the time you used the spot). They started to walk towards the street fair that was in a pretty street with old houses from the colonial era. The more they walked, closer their bodies touched and closer they were from holding hands.

People never talk about the conversation that goes when it comes to small touches. Sometimes, a small caress of a finger against someone's hand, it’s more than the act of touching, it’s an act of questioning: are we feeling the same? I wanna hold you hand like my soul it’s holding yours, please take care of it, because it’s your to take.

They started holding hands the moment the took a turn to the street fair, and if anyone looked at them, would say there were a couple. And it was nothing more that their entire wish that that statement was actually truth.

In the window of a red brick house there was an old man with his guitar, he sung something of their culture and a few people were dancing to it like it was a show. Harry was so in love with this environment, people lived and breathed culture. It was a break he never needed. He already went all around the world and it was on a simple island that he found something he didn’t know it existed.

“Where do you want to go first?” Asked the girl looking up at him and squirting her eyes because of the sun. She had his sunglasses but they were acting more like a headband to that mess it was her hair than to their actual function: protect her shining beautiful eyes from the sun.

“How about we go and buy those fruit for our late evening picnic and then we go have lunch? And from there we see where to go”.

“Seems like a plan, let’s find the vendor with the most variety of fruits, wanna taste them all” And I wanna taste you, thought Harry but he just accepted it wasn’t the time yet. He didn’t want their first kiss to be in the middle of a fair with so many eyes watching. Harry hasn’t been recognized too much but he couldn’t risk too much.

Walking they passed a group of old ladies - like maybe in their 80s- selling beautiful handmade dresses and skirts and shirts, all made in white lace. Such a beautiful work, and Harry made a mental note to come back later and get something for his mother and sister. That was something they would like.

Finally they reached a wooden table full of different fruits and behind it was an older and a younger man, if they had to guess, they would say there were grandfather and grandchild because of their faces similarities: dark skin with very powerful green eyes. While one had the blackest hair either one of them had see, the other one had silver strings in different parts of his hair. In their mouth they carried a soonting smille. They approached the table and the older one started to talk in the native language and he was speaking in such a enthusiastic manner that Harry didn’t have the heart to explain he new close to nothing about portuguese. But the young man seemed to have noticed who he was, touching the talking fella head and saying something in his ear. He stopped talking and was, now, quiet, but never ending the smile in his face.

“Sorry about that. My name is Sol. What can I do for you guys?” The girl beside Harry gave him this shining smile and started talking:

“Hi, Sol.That means Sun right?”

“Yeah, my family it’s a very hippie family. Actually I have two sisters: one it’s called Lua, her name translates to ‘moon’, and the other it’s called Frida. By the way,if it’s not too much problem Mr. Styles, I would like to get an autograph for them, they are big fans of you. And what about your name, sunshine?” asked the young man. Harry was jealous he was flirting with her - and he wasn’t entitled to feel jealous, but that’s what he was feeling - so he put his arms around her and told her name getting an angry yet amused look from her.

“And no problem about the autograph… we would like to take a bit of everything you can recommend us. We are going to do a picnic and want to try everything that it’s different”.

“But please add a bit of those gorgeous strawberries, they look yummy”said the girl next to him “ and what it’s that?” she pointed to a pink yet green round fruit.

“That is pink mango, very famous around this island. She is sweeter than the normal ones you found, actually there are over 24 different types of mango around the south territory, but right now we only have this one. But we’ll be getting more around monday morning if you guys are interest.” He gave them a time to think if they wanted to buy it or not.

“I love mango. Put 3 of these, please.” Harry said giving a genuine smile, everybody knows how much he loves fruit… among other stuff that could be fruit related. He saw a small fruit, that looked like a cherry but it had this red/orange to it’s tone and it wasn’t completely round, so he asked: “Sol, what is this type of cherry?”

“Oh that one? That it’s pitanga. This fruit smells like trees and something sweet that takes you back to your childhood, if you lived on this island” he laughed like he was remembering a distant memory inside of his green eyes but continued soon afterward his little journey through memory lane “My mother used to say this fruit it’s like when you fall in love at first sight: first comes the infatuation, the smell that reminds you there is so much good in the world and all of the good is all in one person. Then, when you first bite to it, first it has a sour taste, like when you get insecure about first kissing someone, but they, you get the courage and kisses them… and it’s amazing and sweet.”

Well Harry didn’t need more and said:

“Give me 12 strawberries, a few limes so we can make drinks, those mangos,a bit of that gelly that looks yummy, and half a pound of those pitangas”

“All done. That is going to be 25 and 75 cents” Both Harry and the girl tried to pay the guy, in the end, she ended up paying, earning a glare from Harry and looking at him like saying ‘what’. The boy returned with the change and the piece of paper for the autograph, Harry signed told him he would be back monday morning to get those other types of mangos and he could bring his sisters if he wanted to,he would gladly meet the girls.

They said their goodbyes and continued their walking, now holding hands without questioning.

“You know out of all those fruits the one I’m more excited to taste it’s this pitanga one” she told Harry.

“Me too”

He knew she was talking more than just the fruit.

And so was him.

With the sound of ocean and the winds in a mix with people chatter, they walked through the fair. Stopping for a quick lunch (some natural sandwiches with coconut water to wash it down) they looked around a vintage music store.

“It’s getting late, I wanna go back to the house if you don’t mind… get some sleep so I’m not tired when it’s time for our little luau” she said looking at him with tiresome eyes “oh maybe I’ll dress like a little witch!!!! So we can perform a little moon ritual”

That put a smile in Harry’s face.

“You know Stevie would actually love this”

“I can’t help getting a bit starstruck every time you mention Stevie Nicks”

“I get starstruck every time I remember that I’m actually her friend... it’s inevitable, she is a legend and an amazing human being”

They were walking and talking about Stevie Nicks and Harry was telling her all about the first time Stevie listened to Fine Line and by the time they got close to their bikes. Just like yesterday, Harry was ready to pay for their bikes parking lot but she was not having it. He was always paying for every little thing (the first time she got to pay anything was the fresh fruits just a few hours ago). So she looked at him when he was lost looking at the turquose sea and just ran away towards the bike.

She heard his scream- a soft loud HEY - and just when she was reaching for the bikes she felt two arms wrap around her waist and pull her out of the way. But they both lost their balance, falling towards the wall of bricks next to the bikes. Her head hit the wall a little bit to harshly makig her let out a low “oh” all that while he crushed her into the same wall.

Puting his hand in fits next to her face, Harry took his face off and lowered to be abble to look at the pretty girl in the eyes. He noticed she was standing on her toes to get closer to him, if he took a deep breath he could smell her perfume, a mix of peach and tangerine. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had never been as close to her as he were now. Harry was abble to see how beautiful eyes eyes were when the sun was high up in the sky and his face too close, he could see how her eyebrows had a thin yet natural draw or how her cupid bow were a little bit more colored than the rest of her lips. He could listen to the wind, bringing a message from the ocean: “it’s time to kiss her, you fool”.

He took her messy hair from her eyes, cradling her face in on hand while the other was kept on the wall, so he could have a sense of what was real. It was the perfect moment.

Or not.

Time simply wasn’t on Harry’s side, as he thought. Because someone started to yell at him in a language he couldn’t pinpoint the country, maybe Russia because of how pale was the old couple looked. They were point at the bikes and yelling at them, people were looking and she was blushing.

“I think they want to park their bikes and we’re on their way” she told him “maybe we should just go home.

🍄

The sun was now close to say it’s farewell for the day. While Harry was busy making a nice playlist (and also giving himself a talk: “you are going to kiss her tonight”. Maybe if started to say all the time like a mantra in would come true). She was making the perfect ambience for a beach party for two. Opening in the sand a round beach towel with lots of candles for when the only light in the sky was the moon and stars. The fruits all in pretty plates made out of wood and she also melted dark chocolate - it would look cool with the strawberries.

The sky was a mix of pretty colors: pink and purple and orange and everything that would make a perfect painting .

She was using this old seventies skirt from her mother (a tie dye skirt with all the colors of the rainbow) and a Stevie Nicks shirt she stole from Harry the night before to sleep. Her hair was falling from her face, dancing with the wind just as her skirt.

It was that moment that Harry made his appearance: his safe sex shirt, yellow shorts, barefoot, no rings. Smiling at her, she thought she looked like he looked like a prince out of every seventies groupies fantasies.

Harry was holding this old radio and in his hand there was a mixtape. Only Harry would come up with the idea of using this old radio that her aunt left at the house as a source for playlist making. Spotify playlist just wasn’t enough if he wanted impress her. In the words of his friend Rob Sheffield: “mixtapes are like pictures but with sound”.

And Harry was planing of making this evening a picture he would always remember with lovin’ care.

“Doesn’t he looks handsome” she walked towards him to help him with settled everything he brought down. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was blushing.

“The seeds are ready if we want to try it now” Harry said changing the subject.

“Let’s go. It takes half an hour to kick and till then we can talk some more”

The seeds didn’t have any taste, almost like any pill you wash down with water.

“Wanna eat one of those fresh fruits?” He said getting a piece of de the pitanga “quite anxious to try this one” he said getting one of the small pitanga fruits.

At first bite it was quite bitter, he was glad Sol had told him about that. But the more he ate, the sweater it got. It was something he couldn’t describe.

“So what do you think?” She asked.

“The explanation that Sol gave to us it’s the best one. It changes taste the more you get used to it. The same is with feelings, right?”

She smiled at him and opened her mouth: “give me some then….” He got one of the fruits and feed her. But he didn’t take his hands of her, leaving there so he could feel her neck veins move with her chewing.

“It’s so sweet in the end… almost like an orgasm”. Harry was fucked.

The time passed and they talked about anything and everything. The sun was almost all the way down as they looked over the horizon.

“So… is it starting to hit for you? ” she asked with a coy smile while getting herself more of the fruits.

He saw her red lips curve around the fruit and suddenly everything was changing colors. The world was red as the fruit she was (so deliciously) tasting. Red like the passion he was beginning to feel for this carefree girl. But she... she was golden. Her aura was just shining through her.

It’s no secret he falls in love with people with golden aura- Stevie has said so herself when he first showed her his second album - and she is shining so much he thought the sun had come down to earth.

Maybe she was the sun, even if it the stars were starting to take their place high in the sky, she was sunshine. His sunshine. It’s never night when she’s around.

“You know, it’s starting to hit”

“And how do you know that?”

“You’re golden”

She laughed at him

“Are you quoting to me a song you wrote about another woman, Styles?”

“No. It’s your aura. It’s shining. And is golden”

That left her with no answer.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Seeing anything?”

She could see the rainbow inside his eyes. She was always attached to everything that was colorful, from a young age. And right now there was this rainbow of lights playing with her vision. And it was all because of this beautiful young man standing right in front of her.

“Yeah, I think I can see everything” happy with her mysterious answer, she looked at the ocean. The waves were moving slow and in pretty rhythm, inviting her to dance together.

Today all of the nature was rooting for them. Getting another pitanga she could feel the sour before the sweet. Giving her body chills. She looked at him and those chills only got stronger but so was her bravery: “will you dance with me?” she asked.

“Well... of course young maiden I shall dance with you” he laughed at his own joke while getting up and offering his hand.

In that moment their worlds collided: their hand were glued together seeding all of different feels from one body to another. They didn’t need to talk to understand: there was a feeling of belonging neither of them never felt even if once they thought they did. This was a moment once in a lifetime: the moment you look at someone and you see them slightly different from one minute ago. When all of the puzzles pieces starts to make sense: what they were feeling from the moment they got on this island wasn’t only attraction it was months of friendship that intertwined them towards something stronger. Something they knew it was blooming inside their chest. Something new, something exciting.

Something beautiful.

He twirled her in his arms and then let her rest her head in his chest, right where his heart was beating so loud and fast, just for her.

“You know it feels like the world is almost too much right now” Harry heard her say “it seems like there are more sound than before, the ocean is actually a song ya comes together with your heartbeat and when you touch me it feels like there is a more to than just a simple touch, like it’s your souls that’s touching me, you know?” He starts to caress her right arm with the tip of his finger, he wanted her to feel more of whatever this she was describing. “Or maybe that’s just the seeds talking but it just feels like something I never had before”

God, she looked beautiful right now blushing with all the glitter around her and her lips red from all the fruits.

It’s time.

“I wanna taste those pitanga lips. Can I?” He asks while still caressing her arms with the tips of his fingers, getting her dizzy and seeing everything with light tones of pink, just like the shirt he wore to the street fair. She wants so much that in a moment of pure infatuation she raises her hand, feeling his chestnut curls, looking into his green eyes that looked almost a dark blue due to the lighting and finally she answered:

“Anytime. Everywhere. Anywhere”

He gave her a soft kind of fucked up smile, getting a good grasp of her hair and pulling her towards his mouth.

She spent so much of her time wondering how does Harry Styles kisses but nothing could get her ready to what she felt in that moment. His lips were a bit chapped because of the sun and the weather, they both were a bit clumsy because they couldn’t feel their faces but the soft touch of his tongue contrasting with tight grasp he had on her hair was making her body feel like it was part of the sand they were standing while he was the ocean, one doesn’t belong without the other, in a painting they would always be together and if that kiss was any indication... so would be their lives.

He gave her a small bite on the lips and laughed: “I’m so sorry, I can’t feel my lips” and she started to giggle because she couldn’t feel a lot, but she could feel him. All of him.

“I’m so glad we finally kissed” she said in a whisper. He looked inside of her eyes before putting his eyes right on her left cheek and flicking his eye lashes while she was having a fit with laughter... everything was too much in their state of mind. And this little touch made her feel like Harry has been tickling her soft skin for hours.

“If you’re so glad that we kissed... you wouldn’t mind if we kissed a bit more, right?” He said in a sensual whisper in her ear while giving little bites.

She pulled him by his hair in a hungry attack. Moaning into his mouth. Sucking his tongue. Smiling when they took small break.

They were standing, her on the tip of her toes, trying to reach him but Harry had other plans, whispering a small “come here” he took her by the waist and made her jump so he could walk back to the beach towel and sit down with her on his lap.

With Harry’s hips between her knees, that wasn’t a inch to separate them. All of their bodies were touching and each particle inside of them was screaming in delight. The feeling of having someone near when the mind is in such a state of inebriation was out of this world. It was paradise.

But maybe their state of mind is just a plus because Harry is pretty sure it could be 10 am on a Sunday and she would make him feel the same way he was feeling now: completely in bliss, in a hypnotic state of mind because of her pitanga lips and the warm energy. She was his sun, his warmth when they would feel could. A little piece of magic after so much pain in love. And Harry couldn’t deny anymore: he was falling.

She stopped kissing him and decided to give small kisses in his neck and every time he moaned she would increase the strength of this kiss.

Harry was quite literally seeing stars, but not only the ones in the sky. He was seeing the stars coming together in a show: each constellation was dancing on its own circle of star friends. And there were always changing color: pink, golden, red, silver.

They were dancing in a celebration because two stars that were meant to be were finally coming together as one.

That was the moment that Harry decided that he wanted more. He pulled her out of his neck and asked: “I love that you are wearing my old shirt but there is nothing more in this world that I would love more than being able to see you without it. Can I?”

Her response was clear: raising her hands above her hand, the - now- moonlight caressing her form when Harry took her shirt off. She was perfect, every little thing about her was just so her, from the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra to how she had this little moon necklace and a little citrine stone resting right on her heart.

He didn’t want to lose more time, he started to give little pecks on her nipples and when Harry heard a moan and a whisper saying “finally” he just went ahead and took the everything he could from her chest inside his mouth while his hand was playing with her right breast and his other hand was supporting her back so she wouldn’t fall off his lap.

She was seeing stars, she could feel everything and anything. His mouth was powerful, like he knew all the buttons to push and that was only the beginning. Moving her hips in circle movements she started to moan more loudly. Using one hand to pull his hair and grinding faster on his growing dick and finally earning a full on moan from her she took his head of her chest and said “I need you, please take off your clothes”

She didn’t have to say more. After this they disrobed so fast they didn’t knew they were able. Now, completely naked, she looked at Harry with a mischievous look and went back to his lap, but before she could do anymore than that, Harry stopped her, using his force to manhandle her body to a lay down position “I promise you that I will be inside you in a moment, but first, I need to taste you, I need to hear your moans and know that’s all because of me, all because of my tongue”

She lost her power to speak but she was pretty sure she kind of screamed “yes” without intending to.

Harry spread her open and looked at the mess that was between her legs. He did loved tasting the pitanga. But he was pretty sure that nothing would compare to the taste of her.

He took his finger and started to pass lightly through the inside of her right thigh and she was trembling already “this seeds are making me more sensible fuck” he heard whisper. Smirking he answered her: “oh so this is all the seeds and not me? Pet, you are breaking my heart now”.

In a revenge he took the same finger that was caressing her thigh and passed from her opening to her clit without any warning.

“Fuck fuck FUCK please just touch me already. My whole body is burning in flames all I can see is a burning flame” he decided to end her suffering. Taking his thumb and lazily caressing her clit in slow but strong circles.

“Are you happy now, Pet”

“Yes but please, give me more”

In a responde Harry took his tongue and licked her right on her clit and started to use the tip of his finger to tease her entrance.

Her moans started to get louder and Harry didn’t have a care anymore, just her taste. That’s the only thing that matters.

While his lips were sucking and licking her clit his finger were working inside of her. When he wanted to change he would put his finger in her clit and would go to her pretty hole and use his tongue to tease her.

Every time he saw she was getting closer to her orgasm, he would stop what he was doing and would just use the tip of his finger to tease her while he kissed her thigh. When her breathing was back to a more concentrated peace he would get back to give her everything he could with his tongue and finger.

And that went on for a while: lips, tongue, fingers. Saw her getting close? Stopped for a while.

When he was doing the pattern for the third time she signed: “I need to come, please let me come?”

Harry wasn’t doing this to be mean, he just wanted to be the only thing she could feel and see. Wanted this to be so good she would never want to be away from him again. And when he saw her trembling lips and eyes full of tear he new she has enough, so he moved his finger in a “come here” motion while she was wetting and wetting more and more his hand, dripping down to the towel and her screams were so loud that if there was a single soul in the almost private beach, he was sure they could listen.

When she was done he took his finger off of her linking each one of them while patiently waiting so she could get back to her state of mind and tell him what she wanted next.

“Hey, there is a condom in the fruit basket” she said

“You dirty little thing, were you planning all of this?” Harry said taking the condom and opening carefully.

“No but I had my hopes up”

She looked so perfect with the sweat on her body dancing around the moonlight, he smiled and asked sweetly: “how do you want me?”

“I want you on top, want to be able to look inside your eyes” He wanted that, too.

“Your wish is my command” whispered Harry while settling on top of her. He stroked her face with one arm supported beside her hand. “Are you ready for me” She nodded with starry eyes and asked:

“And you, are you ready for me?”

Harry guided himself inside her, getting his mouth closer to her left ear and whispered like it was a secret and she was the only one who had the right to hear: “I have been ready for you my whole life” and then he was inside of her. While she was breathing hard, he was whispering sweet nothing in her ear, trying to calm himself, he wanted this to last.

“You can move, you know” that was all Harry needed to start to pick up his pace, making sure every time he came closer to her his pubic bone would caress her clit. She was whimpering and he was completely hers.

He picked her leg up on his shoulder and said: “I need…. fuck…. I need to get closer to you”. She was feeling all of him stretching her a little bit more every time he pushed himself inside of her. Hitting her g spot so perfectly she was seeing stars - and this time was all because of him, not the seeds.

Her body was on fire and the delicious warmth was starting to form in the pit of her stomach. She was going to come again, and she was going to come hard.

“Come on, baby. I can feel you squeezing me so hard. I know you wanna come. I need to feel it” Harry said, his movements becoming each time more out of rhythm, chasing his own peak.

Bringing his hand to her clit, it was only three flicks of his fingers till she was shaking and her eyes were closing. Her mouth forming a delicious smile, one full of satisfaction. And it was watching her come that Harry felt his need to come as well. Closing his eyes and feeling his whole body shake with release.

The only thing surrounding Harry was her. Her name. Her smell. The feeling of her. Everything was her.

When their breathing was back to a normal rhythm and the moon and stars were high in sky, Harry looked over her naked body laid down on all the towels, surrounded by fruits and golden from the candle lights. He was starting to sober up and there was so much he wanted to tell her, but he settled for one single sentence:

“You are a wonderful creation” he told her.

“Look at you quoting Dorian Gray to me!” She said smiling lightly “Do you remember that was the first dm I ever sent you? Telling you to read that book.”

“Of course I remember. I remember everything you ever said to me” he started laughing with the memory “you know, after that message I went running to the closest book store? I wanted to do anything to have a reason to talk to you, even if it was just a dm. I wanted you to think of me all the time, because since that moment I saw you on that raining afternoon my heart started to beat in synchrony with yours” now it’s time to say everything, before it’s too late “you know I’m falling for you right?”

She looked at him like he was the brightest star in the night.

“I know, I’m falling in love with you too” she told him while laying her her on his chest and started to trace the butterfly tattoo “And now?”

“Now I think I have a new song about another fruit to write”. They both started to smile, sealing the deal. She got another pitanga and popped into her mouth and he smiled. He was happy.

#harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry x reader #harry styles friends to lovers #summer fic challenge

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charincharge · 4 years ago

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Cruel Summer, Part 6

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Today was ~dramatic~ -- I woke up to learn that someone was posting this fic on AO3 and passing it off as their own. It was a BUMMER, to say the least, and it really threw me off. I haven’t posted fic in a decade, and I was really using this as a fun way to remember how much I loved writing (since doing it professionally can seriously zap the fun out of it). And hearing that someone stole my work made me incredibly upset and feel generally violated. I know it’s just fic, but... I work hard to write it and don’t think it’s too much to ask to receive the credit for it? I hope this chapter doesn’t reflect that because I was really excited for this one! Anyway. TL;DR, I ended up creating an AO3 page, so no one can post FOR me moving forward. I’ve updated my Masterlist page accordingly. And please don’t plagiarize, guys, it’s not cool. Okay. Enough of that negativity. Let’s get back to the important things. Like Rowan.

Rain pelts against Rowan’s window, casting a dark, ominous hue over his bedroom. His first real day off from work, and it’s storming outside, naturally. He’d planned to take it easy and go to the beach, maybe go for a long run. But it looks like that’s not happening now. He knows he’s being punished. This is the universe’s way of intervening and letting him know how shitty he is. Rowan can’t shake the image of Aelin’s hurt face. It is seared into his brain. And there’s only one way to get it out.

Rowan lounges back into his pillows and opens his laptop before typing in Aelin Ashryver into his internet browser. Her Facebook profile pops up immediately, but it’s set to Friends Only, and Rowan definitely isn’t brave enough to add her as a friend. Her Instagram appears next, and Rowan nearly jumps for joy that it’s a public profile.

The first picture is of the back of her head, her blonde hair piled high on top of her head in a messy bun, with tendrils curling around the nape of her neck, overlooking her balcony and the view of the ocean beyond. She’s back, bitches the caption reads, and Rowan can’t help but chuckle. Next is Aelin with her entire family at the head of Ashryver Playland in a picturesque pose with the caption Favorite place with my favorite people (minus @dorhav118 who gets in TOMORROW!!!!). The corners of Rowan’s lips curl downward as his curiosity gets the better of him, and he clicks on Dorian’s profile.

Rowan rolls his eyes at Dorian’s bio: “Hot as a pistol, but cool inside.”

His heart tugs at seeing the first picture. It’s from the pool party the other day, when Aelin was still in her white dress. She’s laughing at something Dorian said, her eyes closed tightly, glass of champagne in her hand, while Dorian smizes into the camera. Reunited and it feels so good <3

“Who kicked your puppy?” Manon asks from the doorway, and Rowan slams his laptop shut.

“No one.”

A wicked grin appears on her face as she stalks into Rowan’s room and slides onto the bed next to him. “I have a pretty good idea.”

Rowan sighs as Manon reaches over and opens the laptop back up, her long nails clacking against the keyboard. “Just as I thought.” She looks Rowan over, from the bags under his eyes to his hair, messy from constantly running his hands through it. “We’re going out.”

Rowan looks out the window at the torrential downpour and gray skies. “Out? In that? Where?”

“I don’t know,” Manon admits, “But I’m not letting you mope and stalk Aelin all day. It’s pathetic, and below you, to be frank. There’s got to be something we can do in this godforsaken town when it rains.”

It turns out there’s not that many options for what to do when it rains in the small beach town. Mostly everything is outdoors or beach oriented. But Manon decides that the aquarium is a good indoor activity, and it happens to be next to a brewery – for when they get bored. The pair Uber there, not wanting to deal with the hassle of worrying about sobering up. If Rowan’s not allowed to mope and be pathetic at home, he’s going to do today right. And do it drunk.

Despite it being one of the few indoor activities available, the aquarium is fairly deserted when Manon and Rowan arrive. It’s dark and damp and cool and strangely soothing, and Rowan lets Manon lead the way. She heads immediately for the reptile room, thrilled to see the alligators and lizards and snakes. Somehow Rowan isn’t surprised by this development.

They branch off into a small Amazon Rainforest room, filled with frogs and fish and even more snakes on low hanging branches, and Rowan nearly jumps out of skin when a large bird caws in his direction.

“I fucking hate birds,” he grumbles as Manon cackles in delight. “Can’t we see… cuter animals? Like, turtles and seals or some shit?”

Manon rolls her eyes and leads him straight to the shark tank. It’s open, so they can lean over it and look at the giant creatures. Rowan grits his teeth, only slightly terrified at the image of the fin cutting through the surface of the water.

“You know what you’re feeling is totally false,” Manon comments casually.

“Huh?” Rowan says, trying to maintain his calm façade.

“Sharks aren’t predators of humans. That’s the Jaws effect in action. It completely changed our perception of sharks and actually sparked a hunting frenzy that has put sharks in danger, even though they were just an important part of the ecosystem. Fuck you, Spielberg.”

Manon purses her darkly painted lips and twirls her white blonde hair, leaning over the tank further. Rowan shakes his head at his roommate, who looks like she wants to reach into the water and pet the fucking things. He’s never seen her so affected before.

“Why are you like this?” he asks, and she laughs.

“You’re not thinking about her anymore, though, are you?”

Rowan flicks her off. “I wasn’t.”

“A few more rooms will get you right back to that terrified place and not thinking about her at all. Don’t you worry.” She winks and leads him into an incredibly dark room, which is only lit up with glowing jellyfish. Manon is right, and within a few minutes, Rowan is feeling calm again. He lets the dark and schools of weird underwater creatures soothe him, and after they finish at the aquarium, Rowan is grateful he let Manon drag him out of the house.

“Beer?” she asks, and Rowan nods readily.

“I think I earned it.”

“Shut up, you fucking loved it. Think we should get a fish tank?” she asks, and Rowan shakes his head immediately. Manon is strange enough without tending to creatures from the deep in their apartment.

They brave the rain, realizing they both forgot umbrellas, and make a mad dash down the street. Rain soaks Rowan’s shirt, but he feels light. They duck into the brewery, and Rowan shakes out his hair, spraying water all over Manon, like a wet dog. He’s never seen her look so horrified.

“You’re lucky I set my makeup, so it’s immoveable every day,” she says with narrowed eyes. “First round’s on you, asshole.”

Rowan orders them two beers fairly quickly, despite the brewery being packed with patrons (he guesses this is where everyone goes when it rains). But when he turns around to hand Manon her drink, he’s surprised to see her mid-conversation with the very last person he wants to see.

“Rowan!” Dorian calls him over with a wide smile, and Rowan grimaces as he joins them. “I was just introducing myself to your stunning roommate,” Dorian says, and Manon rolls her eyes. But Rowan knows she’s beaming internally with the praise. Manon knows she’s beautiful and doesn’t let anyone forget it, despite her lack of interest in men.

“Uh, hey, Dorian, right?” Rowan says, pretending like he wasn’t just browsing the man’s Instagram profile merely hours ago.

Dorian laughs heartily. “Rowan, come on. We’re friends. Any friend of Aelin’s is a friend of mine.” He grins again, and Rowan can’t help but stare at his incredibly white teeth. He wonders if he whitens them. He must, because no one’s teeth are that naturally white. Or straight.

“Come sit with us!” Dorian points to their table where Aelin sits with the same two people from last night.

“Sure!” Manon says, the same time Rowan says “NO!” emphatically.

“Come on,” Dorian pleads. “We have a big table, and the place is packed. You’ll be lucky to find standing room otherwise. Please, Aelin would be horrified if I let you leave without saying hi.”

Rowan’s stomach churns, but he feels trapped. He can’t say no. “Lead the way,” he says, and Dorian smiles another blinding smile.

“Great.”

He leads them to their table, and to say that Aelin looks shocked to see Rowan approach would be an understatement.

“Look who I found!” Dorian exclaims, gesturing to Rowan and Manon, who stand next to the table awkwardly. “Chaol, Nesryn – these are two of Aelin’s friends, Rowan and Manon.”

The brunette dude, Chaol, gives Rowan a tight smile and short head nod, but the woman, Nesryn, stands and shakes both their hands politely.

Rowan and Manon slide into the two empty seats, and of course Rowan is directly across from Aelin. She looks at him curiously as he takes a large sip of his beer.

“So, how do you know Aelin?” Chaol asks, breaking the awkward silence.

“Rowan works at the park,” Dorian explains. “And Chaol is Aelin’s ex-boyfriend and my other best friend,” Dorian chuckles.

“It’s not as awkward as it sounds,” Chaol says with a laugh.

Aelin squints her eyes and looks at Chaol. “Mmm… it kind of is.”

Manon snorts. “You’re a handful, aren’t you?” she says, leaning toward Aelin, and Aelin flips her golden hair over her shoulder and shrugs.

“Two handfuls, thank you very much,” she says and feels herself up, showing how her chest spills over her hand, too much for one to grasp fully.

“Aelin!” Chaol chides, and Rowan can feel heat creep up the back of his neck as he stares at Aelin’s ample cleavage as she lifts it up.

Dorian cackles, his laugh piercing through the room as he tips his head back. He reminds Rowan of Manon when he does it, so amused with others’ discomfort.

Rowan glances back at Aelin’s chest, and when he looks up, she’s staring back at him, one brow raised in question. He immediately finishes the rest of his beer, downing it in one gulp.

“I need more beer. Anyone else?” Rowan asks, and to his surprise, Chaol stands and offers to come with him.

The pair stand side by side at the bar, waiting for their drinks, and Rowan is unsure of what to say to his current crush’s former paramour.

“So…” Chaol begins, and Rowan cocks an eyebrow at him as he leans against the bar. “You were at The Mason Jar last night,” Chaol says, naming the dive bar where he’d met up with the guys the night prior. “Aelin booked it to the bar when she saw you,” Chaol continues. “You guys, like, a thing?” he asks, curiosity seeping through his anything but innocent question.

“What?” Rowan says, bowled over. “No. Uh. Not at all.” Rowan is more than flustered. “I thought she and Dorian were…”

And at that Chaol tips his head back and guffaws. A deep, full-body belly laugh, erupts from his mouth. “Dorian?” he gapes, his brown eyes wide with disbelief. “And Aelin?” He shakes his head. “No. No no no. Never.” Chaol pauses. “They kissed once when they were thirteen, but other than that. No. Dorian is her person. Which is why it could never work between us, even though we tried for five fucking years,” he sighs and scratches the back of his neck uncomfortably. “But, no. They’re definitely not.” Chaol looks at Rowan, and Rowan feels like he’s seeing through him completely. Chaol smiles softly. “You really thought? Hmmm.”

Rowan is stunned. Seriously stunned. He has no idea how to react. Or how to process this new information. Dorian and Aelin are not dating? They’re just… friends? So, Aelin is available? And has been flirting with Rowan for the past week, and Rowan just shot her down? Rowan rubs his forehead with his hand, which he thinks is the only thing stopping him from banging his head against the bar in shame. Rowan is an idiot.

An idiot who needs to apologize to Aelin. Immediately.

“This was, uh… enlightening,” Rowan says as he accepts his drink from the bartender, and Chaol can’t help but laugh again.

“Did you do something stupid?” he asks cheekily.

“So stupid,” Rowan says, shaking his head.

“Yeah, she was kind of in a mood after she came back from talking to you,” Chaol says, and Rowan groans. Chaol holds up his hands in surrender. “Just trying to help!”

Rowan turns to him fully and examines the brunette with his concerned brown eyes and has to ask, “Not to be rude, but why?”

“Because Aelin deserves to be happy,” he says resolutely. “And I kept her from being happy for a really long time because I’m a selfish bastard,”Chaol admits way too freely. “But, how could I not?”

“You still love her,” Rowan says, and Chaol shrugs.

“I think once you love Aelin you always love her. For better or worse.”

Rowan motions to the table. “I’m gonna…”

Chaol smirks. “Yeah, get to it.”

But back at the table, Aelin and Dorian are nowhere to be found. Manon sighs, obvious to Rowan’s distress.

“She went to sign up for karaoke.”

“Oh no…” Rowan groans.

“Oh, yes,” Aelin says, bounding back to the table, exuberant.

“Don’t worry. I signed you up, too, Rowan,” Dorian says with a grin.

Aelin frowns, her eyes filled with apology. “I told him not to.”

Dorian rolls his eyes. “And I told her that if Rowan wants to hang with us this summer, he’s gotta get initiated.”

“It’s fine,” Rowan says, smiling in what he hopes is a nice and not creepy way to Aelin. She looks momentarily confused, but she doesn’t have time to think about it because she’s called up to do her song with Dorian almost immediately.

The pair sing “Shallow” flawlessly. And now that Rowan knows they aren’t dating, he can see their friendship all too clearly. Aelin and Dorian love each other fiercely; their passion rages through everything they do, but it lacks a spark. It’s platonic, Rowan finally realizes. He’s been such a fucking fool.

Rowan’s name gets called next, and his stomach is is knots, wondering what song they’ve chosen for him. When he gets to the front, though, he nearly laughs. They’ve chosen a song he could sing with his eyes completely closed.

Shorty get down, good lord… baby’s got ‘em up all over town…

Strictly biz she don’t play around, cover much ground, got game by the pound

Getting paid is her forte

Each and every day, true player way

I can’t get her out of my mind

Think about the girl all the time…

He knows the song is comeuppance for calling Aelin friendly last night, but he crushes it nonetheless, singing his heart out, performing for the masses. When Rowan finishes, the crowds go wild, applauding like crazy.

He sees Aelin bolt from the table before he can get back off the stage, and decides to follow her. She heads down the long hall back to the bathrooms, and his long stride helps him catch up quickly.

“Aelin!” he shouts, and he’s grateful that she pauses, but her arms are crossed over her chest, a clear defensive stance that tells him to keep his distance.

“What?” she snips, obviously pissed. They haven’t actually interacted with each other since last night, and Rowan knows she has every right to be angry with him. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me? What are you even doing here, Rowan?”

“I’m an idiot,” he blurts out, and he can see Aelin’s face morph from pissed to amused. She bites her lip to hold back her smile.

“I mean, I know that, but why do you think that?” she says, her blue gold eyes glowing with challenge. He takes a step closer to her, and she backs up until she can’t back up anymore, pressed against the side of the hall. He pauses his approach, not wanting to make her feel cornered. If she wants space between them, he’ll let her have space.

“I was so out of line last night,” Rowan apologizes. “You were right. You were just trying to be friendly. I was being a dick. I thought…” Rowan pauses. He doesn’t want to be this tongue tied, but she flusters him, and he can’t get anything out how he wants to. “It’s not harassment when I want to be touched. By you.”

Aelin’s eyes narrow. She looks suspicious as she examines him.

“I knew I was good at karaoke, but damn, I didn’t anticipate this kind of turnaround…” Aelin smirks and takes a breath, and Rowan risks taking another step forward. She holds up a hand and presses it against Rowan’s chest. He didn’t realize how close he’d gotten to her. Warmth from her palm seeps through his shirt, and he breathes heavily. She looks up into his eyes with curiosity.

“Seriously, what changed your mind?” she asks.

“If I say Chaol’s name right now it’s just going to make things weird,” Rowan says, dipping his head slightly, and he can’t help but notice her tilt her head up to him. He zeroes in on her lips, leaning down to get even closer.

“You’re right,” she says with a soft laugh. “You were still a jerk.” Her eyes flick to his lips, and Rowan darts his tongue out to wet them.

“I know,” he breathes softly. “And I mentioned I was an idiot, right?”

Aelin nods and leans in to close the gap between them, the charge, the magnetism between them now palpable, strumming through Rowan’s body, pulling him downward.

“Hey guysss,” Dorian drawls as he walks past them quickly, and Rowan straightens up suddenly. Aelin darts under his arm, freeing herself from being backed into the wall. He sees her take a large breath. “I was wondering where you’d gone.” Dorian looks between them, and then grabs his stomach. “I have to pee so bad. Don’t mind me!” He continues down the hall. “As you were!”

Rowan goes to finish his apology, but the moment is gone, and so is Aelin. He needs a moment to compose himself, and when he makes it back to the table, she’s already deep in conversation with Manon and Chaol and Nesryn about the latest karaoke performance. Apparently in his absence someone murdered “Bohemian Rhapsody” and not in a good way. But Aelin acknowledges Rowan’s presence with a flash of a smile, despite not breaking her conversation.

Manon side eyes Rowan suspiciously, and Rowan brushes her off. He’s not ready to talk about whatever just did or did not happen in that hallway.

Their chatter is aimless but pleasant as afternoon bleeds into evening, and eventually they all decide to disperse and head home. Rowan never gets a chance to speak to Aelin alone again, but when he and Manon are in their Uber heading home, his phone flashes with a Friend Request from Aelin Ashryver.

“Hmm,” Manon hums pointedly as Rowan bites back a smile. He spends the rest of the night in bed, scrolling through Aelin’s social media. As he’d originally planned to do with his day. Only now, he doesn’t feel as mopey or pathetic. He lets the rain, still relentless, lull him to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~

let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters – ask me HERE

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#rowaelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #cruel summer au #amusement park au #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic #tog fanfic #dorian havilliard #manon blackbeak #chaol westfall #karaoke #rainy day #ust

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lesbian-percy-weasley · 4 years ago

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How To Make Your Crush Fall In Love With You In Three Easy Steps by Gay-Natasha-Saves-The-World on Ao3 (aka your Frankenstein references in Harry Potter fanfiction dealer)

Chapter 2: Make Yourself Desirable

Ship: Perciver

Content warning: Spoilers to the American satirical comedy But I’m A Cheerleader staring Natasha Lyonne and Clea Duvall in the first paragraphs. (It’s free on YouTube if you haven’t seen it)

Summary: Percy is starting to question his feelings about Oliver while Oliver tries everything in his power to prove to Percy he’s sort of an intellectual

A/N: Online school has totally messed with my sleep schedule so midnight fic release woohoo

“I swear film studies attract the worst type of people,” Penny sighed as she sat down at the library table with her friends. “This Tarantino fanboy was trying to talk to me about Pulp Fiction and then acted like I killed his dog when I said I didn’t like it. Cinema peaked with But I’m A Cheerleader and you can’t convince me otherwise.”

“Oh please, what’s so good about that movie?” Cedric complained. “Ummm, it’s gay, it’s a commentary about how gender roles are bullshit, it has a happy ending, and prince Zuko is in it,” Penny argued while she was opening her lunch.

“I would hardly call getting disowned by your family and being homeless a happy ending.”

“Did you not pay attention to the movie at all? First of all, they weren’t homeless; they were staying with Larry and Lloyd Morgan-Gordon. And second of all the last scene of the movie shows Megan’s parents in a support group for people with gay children so clearly they didn’t disown her.” Penny could deal with a lot of bullshit, but someone saying But I’m A Cheerleader was a bad movie was not one of them.

Percy however found this hilarious, but he was trying to hold in his laughter since they were in a library and his laugh was notoriously loud. Penny and Cedric were continuing to argue about the movie and Percy managed to gain composure. That’s when he noticed Oliver looking at him from next to a shelf.

He gave him a small friendly wave before he walked away of embarrassment. Strange. But Percy decided not to think a lot about it.

“Was that your boyfriend?” Penny teased Percy. “Don’t be ridiculous, it's just my friend from English.” He replied trying everything he could not make his face blush. “Oh, so he’s the person we have to thank for getting you to finally shut up about it.” Cedric laughed.

There was no hiding Percy’s blush now. “Oh wait, I get it. He’s not your boyfriend but you want him to be.” Penny exclaimed like this was a great revelation. “No!” Percy said a bit louder than he meant to, earning a harsh glare from Ms. Pince. “He’s just my friend. Besides, I doubt he’s gay, and even if he is, how would he know I’m gay.”

“Your computer screensaver is literally a picture of Oscar Wilde. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.” Cedric replied matter-of-factly. Percy couldn’t even muster a reply to that. Yes, Cedric was right but that still didn’t prove that he would have any chance of ever being with Oliver.

I mean just look at him. He’s a lanky, ginger nerd who was too shy to have more than 2 good friends and Oliver was a gorgeous and popular star sports player. Even if Oliver was gay, why would he want to be with him when he could be with any other boy in school?

Before he knew it, lunch ended and he had to go on with his day. But the thought of Oliver would be on his mind for the rest of the day.

Oliver was extremely tired after track practice. Besides the growing mountain of homework he had, he wanted to read the book for Percy. As much as he wanted to ignore it, if he did his grades would drop even lower and he would absolutely be kicked from the team. So the book could wait for now.

By the time he was done with his homework, he felt like he was about to pass out. But he HAD to read the book. It couldn’t be that hard to read, right? After all, he watched the movie with his parents a few years ago.

Oliver couldn’t even get past page 3 of Frankenstein before almost dozing. “I thought there was supposed to be a monster…” He mumbled to himself as he set the book down. He decided that he will try again tomorrow. If that didn’t work he would just SparkNotes it. It was almost 11 pm anyway.

For the next week, Oliver spent virtually every bit of the little free time he had reading Frankenstein. It was deceptively small for the amount of effort it took to read it. But late one night, he finally finished it.

The amount he took in was debatable but he understood enough to prove he read it. Just as he was thinking about messaging Percy about it, his phone beeped. He picked it up to see Percy had already messaged him.

ThatPercival: Do you still need help with the English homework?

Oliver.Would: Nah, I figured it out.

ThatPercival: Oh, okay.

Oliver.Would: I’ve been getting better at English this semester lol. I actually just finished reading Frankenstein.

ThatPercival: Really? What did you think about it?

Oliver.Would: I thought you were right about it being a better Jekyll and Hyde.

ThatPercival: Right? Mary Shelley did it first and better. I don’t know why we don’t read it instead.

Oliver.Would: If you got to pick the books we read in school people would actually pay more attention.

ThatPercival: I doubt they would pay any more attention to Pride and Prejudice or the Picture of Dorian Gray than they already do when they’re reading The Great Gatsby. But I would have more fun.

Oliver.Would: Touche. But at least we would be reading better books. You don’t even understand how boring English was before you came along.

ThatPercival: Speaking of English, what happened in the first semester that made Mr. Lupin have assigned seating? He never did that last year.

Oliver.Would: Oh yeah, Marcus Flint punched someone in the face over a seat.

ThatPercival: Asgjfhksdfkfdj What????

Oliver.Would: Yeah some kid sat in the seat he usually sat in, they argued about it for a few minutes and then he just punched him. He got suspended for a few weeks and Mr. Lupin had to change the rules. It was the only notable thing that happened in the first half of the year.

ThatPercival: That seems like a pretty severe reaction for someone sitting in your seat.

Oliver.Would: Yeah lol.

The conversation died after that and Percy felt quite sad about it. He would talk to Oliver all night if he could. It didn’t matter if he would see him in the morning. He’s found himself wanting to talk to Oliver about everything. Found a meme about the book they read in class? He would send it to Oliver. His siblings did something generally annoying? He would let off steam by talking to Oliver.

He still talked to Penny and Cedric about the random shit they always talked about, but he wanted to talk to Oliver way more. It just felt more, natural? Why would it feel more natural? He’s known Penny and Cedric since middle school and he’s known Oliver for like 3 months.

He put his phone on his bedside table and sighed heavily. All of this was just so confusing. He could read and understand some of the most advanced works in literature but his brain was a different story. Oliver made him feel an emotion he couldn’t describe.

His pondering was cut off by the ungodly noise his siblings were making seemingly right outside his door. They always seemed to do this at the worst times. It was 10:30 at night, what could they possibly be doing? Before he even got to the door, his mom was already telling them off.

Now he could return to trying to decode his feelings for Oliver. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Penny said a few weeks ago. Did he really want Oliver to be his boyfriend? Okay, maybe there was some truth in that. But there was still no way Oliver would want to be his boyfriend.

So what if he read a book he mentioned once? Maybe he was just trying to be friendly or expanding his literary horizons. That doesn’t mean he wants Percy to be his boyfriend. Why would he want to be his boyfriend? The two of them couldn’t have been more different.

But he shouldn’t waste time thinking about it. He had to sleep. He put his phone on the charger, turned his lights off, got into bed, and tried not to think about how madly in love with Oliver he was.

#harry potter #percy weasley #oliver wood #perciver #fanfiction #gay #percy weasley x oliver wood #muggle au #Highschool #classic literature brain rot #references to Frankenstein

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terramythos · 4 years ago

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TerraMythos 2021 Reading Challenge - Book 10 of 26

Title: The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890)

Author: Oscar Wilde

Genre/Tags: Fiction, Gothic Horror, Third-Person, LGBT Protagonist (I... guess)

Rating: 8/10

Date Began: 4/13/2021

Date Finished: 4/20/2021

When artist Basil Hallward paints a picture of the beautiful and innocent Dorian Gray, he believes he’s created his masterpiece. Seeing himself on the canvas, Dorian wishes to remain forever young and beautiful while the portrait ages in his stead. The bargain comes true. While Dorian grows older and descends a path of hedonism and moral corruption, his portrait changes to reflect his true nature while his physical body remains eternally youthful. As his debauchery grows worse, and the portrait warps to reflect his corruption, Dorian’s past begins to catch up to him.

Perhaps one never seems so much at one’s ease as when one has to play a part. Certainly no one looking at Dorian Gray that night could have believed that he had passed through a tragedy as horrible as any tragedy of our age. Those finely-shaped fingers could never have clutched a knife for sin, nor those smiling lips have cried out on God and goodness. He himself could not help wondering at the calm of his demeanour, and for a moment felt keenly the terrible pleasure of a double life.

Full review, some spoilers, and content warnings under the cut.

Content warnings for the book: Misogyny (mostly satirical). Racism and antisemitism (not so much). Emotional manipulation, blackmail, suicide, graphic murder, and death. Recreational drug use.

Reviewing a classic novel through a modern lens is always going to be a challenge for me. The world seems to change a lot every decade, let alone every century—whether some canonized classic holds up today is pretty hit or miss (sorry, English degree). And considering the sheer amount of academic focus on classic texts, it’s not like I’m going to have a “fresh take” on one for a casual review. I read and reviewed The Count of Monte Cristo last year, and thought it aged remarkably well over 170+ years.

Somehow I never read Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray for school. I tried reading it independently in my late teens/early twenties, and honestly think I was just too stupid for it. Needing a shorter read before the next Murderbot book releases at the end of the month, I grabbed Dorian Gray off the shelf and decided to give it another shot. By the end, I was pleasantly surprised how much I liked the book.

I’m actually going to discuss my pain points before I get into what worked for me. The first half of the book is very slow-paced. The Picture of Dorian Gray is famous for… well… the picture. But it isn’t relevant until the halfway point of the novel, when Dorian does something truly reprehensible and finds his image in the picture has changed. There’s a lot of setup before this discovery. The first half of the book has a lot of fluff, with characters talking about stuff that happened off screen, discussing various philosophies, and so on without progressing the story. Some of this is fine, as it establishes Dorian’s initial character so the contrast later is all the more striking. I just think it could have been shorter. I realize this comes down to personal taste.

I’m also torn on the Wilde’s writing style. He’s very clever, and there are many philosophical ideas in his writing that did genuinely made me stop and think. The prose is also beautiful and descriptive; this is especially useful when it contrasts the horror elements of the story. However, there’s a lot of unnatural, long monologue in the story. Not sure if it’s the time period, Wilde’s background as a playwright, or just his writing style in general (maybe all three), but the characters ramble a LOT. My favorite game was trying to imagine how other characters were reacting to a literal wall of text.

I also feel the need to mention this book has some bigoted content, as implied in my content warnings. The misogyny in the story is satirical; it’s spouted by the biggest tool in the book, Lord Henry, whose whole shtick is being paradoxical. You just need basic critical thought to figure that out. However, some things don’t have that excuse. A minor character in the first half is an obvious anti-Semitic caricature. There’s also some pretty racist content, particularly when Wilde describes Gray’s musical instrument collection. While these are small parts of the book, it’d be disingenuous not to acknowledge them.

All that being said, there were many aspects of the book I enjoyed, particularly in the second half. Wilde does a great job characterizing terrible people who fully believe what they say. Lord Henry is an obvious example, and Dorian follows his lead as the story progresses. One of my favorite bits was after Sibyl’s suicide (which Dorian instigated by being a piece of shit). Dorian is initially shocked, but as he and Lord Henry discuss it, they come to the conclusion that her suicide was a good thing because it had thematic merit. It’s just such a brazen, horrible way to alleviate one’s guilt.

Dorian also goes to significant lengths to justify his actions. At one point, he murders Basil to keep the portrait a secret. While he briefly feels guilty about this, Dorian grows angry at the inconvenience of having killed this man, supposedly an old friend. He even separates himself from the situation, expressing that Basil died in such a horrible way. Bro, you killed him! It was you! The cognitive dissonance is just stunning.

It’s also viscerally satisfying to read about Dorian’s downfall as his awful choices catch up to him. Dorian becoming tormented by the portrait is just... *chef’s kiss*. Is it surprising? No, it’s pretty standard Gothic horror fare. But there’s something to be said about seeing a genuinely horrible man finally pay for what he’s done after getting away with it for so long. I wish real life worked that way.

There’s the picture itself, too. I know it’s The Thing most people know about this novel -- but I just think it’s a cool concept. I like the idea of someone’s likeness reflecting their true self, and the psychological effect it has on the subject. Most of the novel is fiction with realistic horror elements, but I like that there’s a touch of the supernatural thanks to Dorian’s picture. It’s an element I wouldn’t mind seeing in more works.

It's sad to read Dorian Gray with the context of what happened to Wilde. The homoeroticism in the novel is obvious, but tame compared to works today. Wilde and this book are a depressing case study in how queer people are simultaneously erased and reviled in recent history. Wilde was tortured for his homosexuality (and died from resulting health complications) over 100 years ago, yet the 1994 edition of Dorian Gray I read refers to his real homosexual relationship as a "close friendship". It's an infuriating and tragic paradox. Things have improved by inches, but we still have so far to go.

As I grow older I find I appreciate classic works more than when I was forced to read them for school. The Picture of Dorian Gray is a gripping Gothic horror story. Some aspects didn't age particularly well, but that's true for almost anything over time. If you're in the market for this kind of book, I do recommend it.

#this review is late but in my defense the nier remake came out #taylor reads #2021 reading challenge #8/10

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growntolovesecrecyfic · 4 years ago

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Grown to Love Secrecy - Chapter Two (Petekey)

Can be read here.

Summary: Mikey Way hates Oscar Wilde but Pete Wentz convinces him to read The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Chapter Two: Walking on Fire

Pete spent a lot of summers in cramped vans, and hotel rooms with sweaty dudes and expensive musical instruments and this summer is no different. The slight homoerotic tension between Pete and almost every dude he’s ever met is strong, not that Pete or any of his friends minded.

They all kiss sometimes and most of the time the press pays not mind as it’s not that big of a deal and other times tabloids have him and his friend kissing on the front cover everywhere with the F-slur painted across in bright red telling the world, “Hey, look! Pete Wentz kisses dudes!”

The tabloids have a lot to say and quite frankly, he doesn’t care anymore. All press is good press, right?

Pete spits into the sink of the Walmart bathroom that other bands from Warped have occupied that morning. Today was Patrick’s day on the bus bathroom.

He rinsed his mouth and stepped aside, letting Andy take the sink for his own routine. He walks over to the wall where Joe is and leans against it. The eggshell-colored wall was cooled against his hot skin after being out in the Dallas heat.

“Hey, man.” Joe greeted Pete to which he responded with a nod, “so any plans for after our set?” Pete thought for a moment, remembering that he did in fact have plans with Mikey tonight. Not that anybody in the band needed to know that.

“No, not that I know of. You?” Pete asked while fiddling with the drawstrings of his clandestine pajama pants. Joe shrugged before responding, “Just regular life on the Warped, you know?”

Pete nods and they exchange some more small talk and soon enough, Andy joins them, and they’re ready to take on Warped.

As they exit the Walmart, they pass families whose kids stare in adoration and parents stare in disgust. It’s not that uncommon for people to recognize them. Fall Out Boy was getting big fast and it did stress them out as they felt the pressures from their record label to push out a new album as soon as possible to keep the momentum going. Warped is their salvation for that summer. No record label, you’re constantly busy doing the thing you love and sometimes you’re in bumfuck nowhere and nobody knows who you are, those are the best kind of places.

After walking out into the parking lot, the trio realize that they’ll need to find some place to eat before their set that morning. They have three hours to kill before practice and without a car and Patrick still on the bus, it is their civic duty to fuel up now and get Patrick something he’ll like, like oatmeal or something.

And later that morning when Pete met a fan who was uncontrollably crying and threw up on his shoes, he could tell that it was going to be a painfully long day.

And he was right. After their set, they met with some fans and he had some run ins with some reporter asking about Jeanae or whatever her name was. He chooses to forget those years in his life. He ignores her texts, fake pregnancy positives and whatever sexual favor she asks of him that day. It’s been pissing him off that entire day and he wanted to let off steam. The only positive that came from that day was Patrick buying him some new underwear for a late birthday gift and his new fuckbuddy, Mikey Way. He promised to meet with him tonight and Mikey told him that the bus was empty. Pete feels that he’ll finally cop a feel tonight.

Laughter and The Smiths fills the My Chemical Romance bus however the guys were nowhere to be found except for a pair of boys at the back of the bus on the floor, “Rusty? Really?” Mikey asked and Pete just responded with grin and nodded enthusiastically.

Mikey shook his head, “Nuh-uh, I don’t believe it one bit. You don’t even look like a Rusty!” Mikey accused.

“Dude trust me! I would have been Rusty Wentz!” Pete cringed a bit at the thought but turned into a fit of laughter after seeing Mikey clutch his stomach and roll over on his side, hand covering his mouth trying to contain his laughter.

After a few minutes, the laughter finally died down. Mikey removing his glasses to wipe his eyes and Pete coughed as he tried to catch his breath before something caught his eye.

“What’s that, Mikeyway?” Pete asked. He points at an object to show to Mikey where it is.

Mikey turns to see where Pete was point at, “Oh, that’s some book that Gerard has been trying to get me to read but never did.” He answers as he gets up and gets it from his bunk. He sits on his bed and goes through the pages, “I have beef with Oscar Wilde.”

Pete chortles at Mikey’s last statement as he sits on the bed next to him, “Yeah? I love him. He’s one of my favorite writers.”

Mikey looks up at older man, furrowing his brows and slowly handing him the book, “Really? Never thought you were the type.”

“To what? Read?” Pete joked.

Mikey was quick to defend himself, “No! I never thought you were into this type of literature. It’s darker and like a horror, I guess? I think that’s why Gerard likes it so much.” He moves closer to Pete, hesitant to lay his head on his shoulder but swallows his doubts and gently place his cheek against his right shoulder.

Pete smiled, eyes moving from the book and on Mikey now, “Do you mind if I read this to you? Maybe I can learn you a thing or two.” His grin was wider now, and Mikey couldn’t help but smile back at him. He loves this. He loves that it’s them. Them alone. And with him.

“Sure. Maybe you can teach me how to love Oscar Wilde at the end of this?” Mikey asks. Pete only laughs, “I can’t teach you to that. It’s up to you if you want to love him. You chose to hate him so why not choose to love him?” Pete asked, his eyes back on the book.

“Well, we can’t choose who we love now, can we?” Mikey asked. It was more of a question for himself rather than Pete. He’s had this struggle within himself for a long time. The first boy he’s ever kissed was his best friend in 8th grade and they haven’t talked since. He’s been quiet about their whole fight and why he came back home with a black eye (and broken heart).

Pete stilled at Mikey’s question then resumed to his reading. He turns to the preface, “Do you wanna start here?” Pete asks Mikey in a whisper. He nods and Pete continues, “The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim. The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things.”

Mikey raises his head from Pete’s shoulder, raising his eyebrows, “Hm, wow. That’s kind of deep?” He readjusts himself, “Do you mind if I put my head on your lap?”

Pete smirks, “I mean… What do you plan on doing down there?”

Mikey didn’t get it immediately but lightly smacks Pete on the arm when he does, “Dude! No! I’m not that type of guy.” He exclaimed, his cheeks and nose turning pink. Pete laughs in response, rubbing his arm.

“I don’t believe that, Mikeyway. I’ve heard the rumors about you.” Pete shook his head and set the book down, placing a hand on Mikey’s thigh.

Mikey froze up a bit. What rumors? Why is his hand there? Why is he feeling so lightheaded? The warm knot in his stomach is forming slowly but surely. That can’t be good, right?

“Uhm, wh-what rumors?” Mikey asked. He’s genuinely confused, being behind Gerard’s shadow for most of his life he didn’t know that people cared enough about him to start rumors about him.

“Oh, you know.” he grinned at Mikey, moving closer to him. He put his other hand on Mikey’s other thigh, moving them both up slowly. Mikey’s breath hitched and Pete took this as a ‘yes’.

Mikey shook his head. He didn’t know.

“The ones about how you’re always willing to fuck after a show and your tight jeans no underwear combo,” Pete stops when his face was inches away from Mikey and whispers, “I just wanna know if it’s true.”

He leans in closer, capturing Mikey’s lips into his own. Mikey let out a small gasp in shock before Pete does so. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Yes, Pete and he kissed before but not like this. He couldn’t.

He moved his head away from Pete and pushed him off.

Pete was confused, Mikey never did that before. He looked at him and tried to read his face, but it was confusing him.

“Uh, did I do something wrong?”

Mikey’s heart was pounding so hard and fast, he didn’t really know what to say. He wanted to kiss Pete but he’s so confused. What rumors? Who’s saying those things? Nothing could leave his mouth. It was all different thoughts racing through his brain that day.

He shakes his head and brings Pete’s mouth back to his again.

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