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works-of-fanfiction · 2 years ago

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What is it about Weddings? || Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando and the reader attend a wedding together, and find out a lot more about their friendship than they expected.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Swearing (once)

a/n: this is unintentionally long, and I probably could’ve cut some of it out but here we are. here’s some fluffy friends to lovers (kind of, it’s implied) with everyone’s fave mcclaren driver.

“And I’m supposed to what? Pretend to be your girlfriend for the day?” You asked, laughter beneath your voice as you released your wet hair from the towel. Lando’s pixelated head nodded on the other end of the video call and you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “I agreed to this as your friend. How am I supposed to convince your family otherwise?” “Please, Y/N. They’ve already started asking questions and I - “ “You’re too scared to dodge them? Correct them? Tell them the truth?” You brushed through your hair, wincing at the knots in the ends. “I’m sorry. I know you’re mad at me - “ “I’m not mad at you, Lando.” You interrupted him again, causing him to roll his eyes which luckily went unnoticed by you whilst you leaned down to plug the hairdryer in. “I’m just feeling a little unprepared.” “All we have to do is maybe hold hands, agree on a story of how we started dating, and dance together a couple times. Do you think you can do that?” He asked, adopting his famous puppy dog eyes that you fell for every time, that you’ve been falling for since you met him three years ago. You sighed, throwing your towel into the laundry basket then looking back at the phone. “Alright, seems easy enough.” “Thank you! I owe you.” He clasped his hands together like a prayer, blowing you a kiss through the screen. “Oh, you absolutely do. Now go, I’ve got to dry my hair and make sure I’m ready in time!” “The wedding doesn’t start for another two hours.” “And the clock is ticking! See you later.” You smiled, not even giving him the chance to say goodbye before hanging up the phone.

Exactly two hours later you were sat in the middle of the venue waiting for the music to begin and the bride to enter. Enough of the small talk was already over, and you were finally able to let go of Lando’s slightly sweaty hand. You teased him for it, earning you an elbow in the ribs and another eyeroll. “It’s the middle of Summer, your hands aren’t exactly pleasant to hold either.” He whispered, causing you to snort with laughter then hold your breath to silence yourself. The wedding was like many others in your opinion. The vows were long, made even longer by the bride and groom choosing to personalise them, and it took a good twenty minutes for the room to fully empty out. By then, you were bursting for the toilet and hoping to make a beeline for the nearest one without being stopped by any of Lando’s family members. “Prosecco?” A waiter asked you, balancing a stacked tray in his hand. You grabbed a glass, nodding a thank you whilst speed-walking past everyone. You downed the drink and left the glass on a wall after struggling to find somewhere more suitable. Ducking into the first cubicle, you locked the door and took the opportunity to take a deep breath. Pretending to be Lando’s girlfriend wasn’t exactly difficult, but lying to his family was. You desperately wanted to impress them but were worried you’d slip up and say something wrong. You could tell how excited they were to meet you, and the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint them.

The main door flew open as you stood up to flush, pausing before you did as you heard voices outside. “He brought his new girlfriend, have you seen her?” A girl said, snickering as she spoke. “I saw them arrive together. I didn’t even know he was dating anyone.” You leaned closer to the door, trying to spy through the crack near the hinge but the most you could see was the back of a purple dress. “Well, she won’t last. We all know what happens when Lando and I bump into each other at events.” Her tone was suggestive, and the mention of Lando’s name made you stagger back, your heels scraping against the tiled floor. Subtle, you thought. You didn’t like the idea of somebody gossiping about Lando behind his back. It didn’t matter what they said about you, but you’d defend him in a heartbeat. On that note, you flushed, smoothed out your dress and unlocked the door to step out of the cubicle. The two women turned to look at you, embarrassment laced on one of their faces. The other - purple dress - looked you up and down, nostrils flaring and lips curling into a disgusted frown. You opened your mouth to speak, but the two slipped right past you and left the room, slamming the door behind them. “Real mature.” You muttered to yourself before washing your hands and re-applying your lipstick. You were surprised to come across someone so childish considering the environment you were in. But, after all, what’s a wedding without someone trying to cause drama? “There you are! I thought you’d ditched me.” Lando called over as you went back outside, the sunlight hitting you directly in the eyes. You reached into your bag and grabbed your sunglasses, sliding them on to match your friend. “I think I may have just made an enemy.” You shrugged, linking arms with him as you both made your way to the large white tent at the bottom of the garden. “An enemy?” “A girl in the bathroom was talking about us. Blonde, purple dress, garish yellow bag. She’s over there.” You lowered your voice, gesturing towards a group of people to your left. “Oh… We used to go out when I was like, seventeen. Clearly she is still that age in her head.” “You’re telling me! You should’ve seen the way she looked at me. I’ve seen people have better reactions to piles of cow shit!” The both of you laughed together, huddling over as to not attract anyone’s attention. “She seems to think she could still have you given the chance.” “Not anymore.” Lando shook his head, his distaste for the girl evident on his face. Despite not being able to see his eyes, you knew him well enough to tell how he was feeling just by the scrunch of his nose and downturned lips. The two of you were soon ushered inside the tent and to your table. You were seated with Lando’s parents which wasn’t so bad. You imagined Lando had already given them a story of how you met and convinced them you were a real couple, so you didn’t have to prepare for any more questions. “They sent a menu out a couple of weeks ago. I chose for you, I hope you don’t mind.” Lando said, smiling. He reached over and laid his hand on top of yours in your lap, his thumb stroking the back of your fingers. His touch wasn’t unfamiliar, and you knew he was just trying to play the part in front of his family, but you liked the feeling of his hand on yours for those few seconds. You almost forgot you were pretending and felt a slight pang of disappointment when he pulled away to adjust the napkin on his lap. You linked your own hands together, patiently waiting for the first course to be served.

---------

“Well, that was…”

“Dissatisfying? Disappointing? Gross?”

“I was going to say posh.” You laughed, Lando fake gagging beside you. You slapped his chest to shut him up, almost knocking the wind out of him. “It wasn’t the worst food I’ve ever eaten.”

“Come on Y/N, you and I both know we’d have enjoyed a Domino’s more than that.”

“What? More than a tiny piece of lamb in some funky sauce? Obviously.”

“The dessert was the worst part. What’s wrong with a simple sponge cake? Why does it always have to be some fancy ‘berry compote’?” Lando adopted a stereotypical posh accent, sticking his nose in the air and waving his finger around. It always surprised you how little he enjoyed luxury things, considering how he was raised and the career he’s in. When you met him, you expected him to be more of a snob.

You hushed him, grabbing his hand and holding it by your side. The two of you couldn’t hold in your laughter and curled over like a pair of giddy children, tears brimming in your eyes. Why do the giggles come at the worst of times?

“What are you two laughing at?” Lando’s father asked, crossing the grass to meet you. You stood up straight to greet him, little bursts of laughter still coming out.

“Oh nothing.” Lando sighed, wiping his eyes.

“Y/N. they’re gathering all of the ladies near the pond for the bouquet toss. Would you like to join them?” Adam asked, stepping aside for you. You sensed it was more of a rhetorical question, and reluctantly set off towards the pond to join the group of women you didn’t know. Ironically, the girl in purple caught the flowers which made you laugh to yourself. You felt sorry for the poor soul that would eventually marry her. You clapped and cheered with everyone else, making a point to flash her the most sickly, fake smile you could muster. Her eyes flickered back to you a few times whilst she tried to concentrate on her conversation with the bride. The last time she looked, you’d already walked off to find Lando again.

“What if she comes back up here with that bouquet? You do know what it means…”

“Come on, Dad.” Lando snickered. You got the feeling this wasn’t a conversation to disturb, so you stood back behind a flowerbed to listen in. The bigger part of you knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but you wanted to leave Lando to this one. You’d done enough storytelling for one afternoon.

An older lady approached the two of them, and you recognised her as one of Lando’s aunts. She hugged her nephew, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Where’s that lovely girl of yours, Lando?” She asked.

“I’m sure she’s on her way back.” There was a pause, and the sound of feet shuffling, until he spoke again, “So, you like her then?”

“Of course! What’s not to like? She seems really nice from what I’ve seen. How did the two of you meet again?”

Oh, this should be good, you thought. You hadn’t heard Lando’s version of events and how you came to be his ‘girlfriend’, but you trusted he’d made up a good tale. You crouched, resting your right hip and leg on the flowerbed to duck down a little lower.

“It was at a party.” You could hear the smile on Lando’s face and you were impressed with how well he was playing along. “You know when you spot someone across a room and just, know? She was stood near the wall beside this extravagant fish tank with glowing blue lights, and they were reflecting off of the silver top she was wearing. I watched her for a few minutes before mustering up the courage to talk to her. We spoke about everything from racing, to our favourite movies, to our least favourite childhood games. I hung on every word she said.” As he spoke, the realisation hit you – he wasn’t telling a made-up story. He was telling the true story of how you met, and you remembered every conversation from that night.

“Are you joking? Splat was the best playground game!” You laughed, polishing off the remainder of your drink and setting the glass down on the nearest table.

“Agree to disagree! Bulldogs was far better.” He retorted, waving his beer bottle in your face. You slipped it out of his hand and took a swig, the liquid warm and flat.

“Ugh, you need a new drink. And get me one whilst you’re at it.” You fluttered your eyelashes at him, pushing your glass into his hand. He shook his head, a smile stuck to his face as he gave into you. Little did you know, he’d have done anything you asked him that night, and he probably still would.

“She was dating someone at the time so I spent six months getting to know her as a friend. I was the one she came to when it went South, and I wanted nothing more than to comfort her, but I didn’t want to cross a line. It was kind of good for me though, as I was able to spend more time with her and get to know her better.” Lando’s aunt cooed at his words, which simultaneously made you blush. Everything he was saying was right, and you wondered whether he was just moulding it to sound romantic, or if there could be some truth in his feelings.

You stood up from the flowerbed and rounded the corner, re-joining the three of them. “Y/N, we were just talking about you.” Adam smiled, turning to Lando and raising his brows. “All good things, don’t worry.”

Lando smiled at you, cheeks a little flushed but you could easily put that down to the weather rather than his potential confession. Was he flirting with you that night? Had his ‘playful’ flirting over the past few years been more than just a joke?

“Lando is very lucky to have you.” His aunt beamed, grabbing your hand and giving it a light squeeze. “Don’t let him go.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” You squeezed her hand back, then looked back over to Lando who was smiling at the ground. “Shall we get another drink?” You asked to break the silence. Everyone murmured in agreement and disbanded, leaving you and Lando behind. You started to walk in front of him, but his hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“You don’t need to thank me… I suppose it’s a shame they like me so much.” You joked, but the hint of sadness in your voice did not go unnoticed by Lando. He cocked his head to the side, studying your face for some kind of clue but came up with nothing. You linked arms with him again and pulled him back towards the tent, where the tables had now been moved to make way for a dance-floor.

You sat down and watched Lando interact with everyone. It was nice to see how well he got on with his family, and they were all eager to listen to his racing stories and find out what he’d been up to around the world. Unbeknownst to you, members of his family admired the smile on your face from across the room as your eyes followed Lando around. To the ordinary person, you looked exactly like a woman in love. Lando turned and caught your eye, smiling and holding his hand up to wave at you. It didn’t cross your mind that anyone would be witnessing your interaction, so you didn’t realise the wedding photographer was nearby snapping pictures of you and the smile you were aiming in your friend’s direction.

Soon after, the string lights around the tent came on and the music was turned up, the dance floor flooded with people busting their tipsy moves. You dragged Lando through the crowd and into the best space you could find. “You know I’m a horrible dancer!” He yelled over the music as you lifted his arm and spun underneath it, trying to get him to join in.

“Nobody is looking at us! Come on, loosen up.” You spun again then pulled him closer to you, swaying your bodies to the sound of the cheesy song. Who doesn’t love ABBA at a wedding?

“What have I done to deserve this torture?” He fake-whined, his hands falling to your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck and were nudged even closer to him when someone spun and bumped into you.

“Sorry, uh - “

“No, stay close.” He said quietly, hands sliding from your waist to the bottom of your back. He held you steady, the song changing to a slower melody. Couples around you came together to do their best slow dance, and the rest retreated to their tables.

“This is the part where the singles leave the floor.” You said plainly with no real intention to stop dancing.

“Then we better stay put, hadn’t we?” He smiled, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “I forgot to tell you how pretty you look today.”

“Lando Norris, how much prosecco have you had?”

“Enough to start handing out compliments, clearly.”

You laughed softly, your cheeks burning from a mixture of the alcohol consumption throughout the day, and Lando’s sweet words. Taking somewhat of a risk, you laid your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes for a moment, letting him guide you across the floor. “You know, I think we pulled it off today.” He said, his voice low in your ear. You hummed in agreement before lifting your head up and looking at him. He was smiling, the type of smile that reached his eyes and made his cheeks look full. It was infectious, and your own face felt sore from smiling straight back.

“I think you’re mostly responsible for that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard your little story earlier when you were talking to your dad and aunt. For a moment there, even I was convinced.” You knew you were taunting him, but you had to hear what he was going to say.

“You heard that?”

“Every word. It was pretty believable.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie, was it?”

“You tell me.” You raised your brows at Lando, catching him off guard. His furrowed in return as he gave you a weird look.

“You remember that night as much I do.”

“Yes, but not from your point of view.” You leaned forward and rested your chin on his shoulder then whispered, “if it makes you feel any better, I had a crush on you too.”

“Bullshit! You were dating somebody else.” Landon grabbed your arms and held you in front of him, his face ridden with shock.

“Hey! A girl is allowed to admire the view! I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“So you admit, you were checking me out?” He said cockily, kissing his teeth. You poked him on the chest playfully and he did it right back, leaving a red finger-shaped mark on your collarbone.

“Says you! No guy remembers what a girl was wearing when they met.”

“Your top was silver with holographic straps and your skirt was black. You complained about your tights falling down all night and eventually took them off in the bathroom… Do I get a point for passing your quiz?”

“I don’t remember asking.”

A silence washed over you, and you realised you were now the only two dancing as everyone else had disappeared to have cake and more drinks. Even the bride and groom were nowhere to be seen. You strolled back to your table, Lando’s hand finding yours. You stopped but didn’t sit down. “Is it just the alcohol talking, or is there something going on here?” You blurted, interlacing your fingers with his tighter. “You have to give me a clue because I can’t tell.”

“I was hoping you were going to answer that.”

“Christ! We’re just as bad as each other.” You covered your face with your spare hand, shaking your head. “I don’t know if I want to hit you or kiss you.”

“Slow down! How about you do neither, and we get out of here instead?”

“Lando! How is that any slower?!” You whisper-yelled, your lips fighting to curl into a smile.

“I don’t mean that!” He laughed, watching you sigh with relief. “Why don’t we go grab that pizza instead? Then we can dry out a bit and see what sober Y/N and Lando think of this sudden revelation?”

“You’ve got a deal.” You grinned, grabbing your bag and slipping it onto your shoulder. You didn’t let go of his hand as nerves and excitement bubbled through you. You’d just agreed to an impromptu first date with your best friend, and had no idea what it meant. “What is it about weddings, huh?”

#f1 fics #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #f1 oneshot

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thedansemacabres · 1 year ago

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Hello! As one Hellenic Polytheist to another, and since you have such a huge knowledge of wine and wine making, I was curious if you have any good wine suggestions that might also be good offerings? Unfortunately, do to medical reasons, I can't drink alcohol but I'd like to find some wines that I could use as offerings to Apollo and Ares. I'm sure they wouldn't fault me for grabbing any wine from the grocer, considering I cant actually drink it to see if it tastes any good, but if you have any suggestions I'd love to hear. Thank you and hope you're having a good day :D

Of course! I actually have many thoughts on this, so I'll provide a quick brief on wine in grocery stores:

Grocery store wine tends to be a nightmare to winemakers. The common person does not know what wines they want to purchase, or good wines to buy, and there's a large state of confusion--it does not help that grocery stores throw wines on a self without worry. I'll see Italian wine next to Spanish with completely different histories and flavour profiles, and the history behind it will not be explained. Especially when a Spanish cooking wine is put next to Prosecco... which is why so many winemakers are putting attention into modern, cute, and pretty labels. People buy labels most often instead of decent wine.

So, grocery store wine shopping!

Personally, I avoid any bottle under 10$. This is due to labour and environmental concerns. I do not think you need a full rant on the labour issues of Blackfoot wine, but it's certainly a topic.

Then, what to buy? I associate Ares with full, harsh reds (or even a nice rose...), and Apollon I believe is both a red, rose, and white wine sort. As a general rule, affordable and drinkable (usually food) wine tends to be Italian (DOCG - Denominazione di Origine Controllata e Garantita): Italian for “Controlled and Guaranteed Denomination of Origin” means that it was made under certain quality control constrictions. Besides, a 10$ Chianti is a perfect offering. The quality system on wine labels goes far beyond DOCG, but that's a different post or if anyone asks.

For Ares, I would recommend any wine that states itself as "tannic" "bold" "courageous" etc., and grapes like Cabernet Franc are famous for this. A Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon has similar traits, but it tends to be expensive. If the bottle is blue/green, that means the wine is meant to age, and bolder reds tend to do so. I also think he is definitely a rose guy, so I would gravitate towards rose that calls itself "floral" "light" "refreshing" "breezy" etc., especially one of my favourite grapes, Black Muscat. Chambourcin is also a great grape for him--the floral nature and dark purple hue is beautiful.

Apollon - I would gravitate towards more yellow/gold whites, such as an older Chardonnay or Orange (skin contact white wine) wines. I personally associate him with Traminette, though that one can be rare to find. These tend to be expensive, but noble rot wines I believe fit (often called botrytis wines, but these tend to be more expensive) or straw wines--wines made by grapes shrivelled in the sunlight--which will require some research to find if it's a straw wine if not directly stated. Straw wines are sweet wines, so let's go into that.

Sweet wines will be more "accurate" to the ancient world if you care for that. Sweet wines have hundreds of names depending on region, so here's a tldr;

French wine - demi-sec and above is sweet, especially doux.

Italian - completely opposite of French wine, it's extra-sec (off-sweet), sec (sweet), demi-sec (very sweet), and dolce (syrup sweet)

German - Germany has a whole different approach to sweet wines, with sweetness being a mark of quality; trocken, halbtrocken (half-dry), feinherb (off-dry), lieblich (semi-sweet), and suß (sweet.)

Or the bottle just says "sweet" or "residual sugar" level. This is the easiest.

I hope this helps and may you enjoy offering wines to the theoi!

#dragonis.txt #asks #anon #megwritesnstuff #vīnum #helpol #ares deity #apollon deity #apollo deity

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azazeldream · 1 year ago

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youre so fun youre so fucking fun isaac— i am sick and tired of being called fun. with the ways i choose to paint my face you must all think i do it on purpose, to be the perfect main course for a side of poppers and prosecco.

on the bed or on the floor, after drinking a bottle of wine or a couple cocktails while you pretend to understand all my ideas and my art, when you take me by the hand under dim red or purple lights i can be anything you want me to be. after all i exist only in the realm of ideas, my body is your playground and you can enact all your most unethical and dirty fantasies, i can be your strict father, your loving boyfriend, your obedient dog all in one tiny little unbreakable body.

i am a mirage of the most beautiful and whimsical, i am a collection of complex, introspective, poetic and philosophical visions that your skin soaks up through the reflection of the sunset emanating from my golden eyes and skin on a rooftop with a view to the cannal.

i am so fucking tired of being all your dreams come true, of being the special transient project made of clay for you to sculpt into perfection and break right before your magnum opus can come to life in a softer body with a less complicated mind. what is it about me that apparently makes me so fucking special that i can never be taken seriously.

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choke-me-joey · 2 years ago

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30 and 37 with Joseph Quinn on Christmas day/eve while visiting family

Abso-fucking-lutely 🫡🫡🫡

Merry Christmas you horny babes!

30. We have to be quiet, can you do that for me, princess?

37. Look at yourself, you're so fucking nasty.

Joseph Quinn x reader

Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, rpf (don't like don't read), unprotected sex, Joe is SLIGHTLY dom if you squint, teeny bit of degrading language, choking, mirror sex, creampie

This is the SPICIER second part to this fluffy lil drabble

Hoe-vember masterlist

After too many Proseccos, too many baby photos being shared and one too many mince pies, your extended family had left your parent's house, each one of them singing Joe's praises and begging him to come to the next family event (your cousin Sarah's February wedding, to be exact). He had promised he would try his best.

Once the majority of your family had left, your parents, brothers and Joe all took part in a very scrappy game of Monopoly, resulting in Jack almost flipping the board as Charlie bankrupted him quicker than last year; such was tradition.

After Joe had made his intentions to you very clear in the kitchen earlier, it was very hard for you to keep your hands off of him. Not in a sexual way, well, mostly, but in more of a 'I love you so, so much and I can't be without you' gross, romantic way. And he was the same, having kept his hand on your thigh, arm around your shoulders or fingers loosely linked with yours.

"Oi, knock it off," Jack had thrown the Monopoly dice at you as you and Joe exchanged a quick peck during the heated game. "Gonna make me see my dinner in reverse."

You had flipped him off and Joe chuckled, a slight blush creeping over his cheeks.

After tensions had dissolved, it was approaching midnight and one by one your brother and parents excused themselves to go up to bed. You and Joe followed suit, returning to your old teenage bedroom for another night.

Luckily, your parents had redecorated you and your brother's rooms to a more...mature reflection of you all now. Your room was now neutral greys and whites, a refreshing change from the garish purple you'd had it painted as when you were younger.

You flop down on the bed, watching Joe as he unbuttons his shirt. He catches you watching him as he slips his shirt off and lays it carefully on the chair at your desk.

"What?" He smirks. He knows exactly what.

"C'mere," you crook your finger at him, spreading your legs. He grins, cocking an eyebrow at you.

"Really? At your parent's house? Naughty." But he crawls on top of you anyway, hands coming onto the pillow either side of your head to hold him up. "All that Prosecco got you feeling frisky?"

"Don't say frisky." You laugh, pulling him down into a kiss, softly moaning as his tongue finds yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, rocking your hips up into his. "Fuck me, Joe." You whisper against his lips. He nibbles your bottom lip.

"We have to be quiet, can you do that for me, princess?"

You whine softly, the pet name making your pussy flutter. You nod.

"Good girl, baby." Joe speaks in hushed tones and honestly it's just adding to the excitement. The rush of doing this where you shouldn't really be doing this...it was kind of hot. Very hot actually.

Joe peels off your leggings and socks, groaning in appreciation at your little red lace thong. "Very festive." He smirks, pinging the waistband playfully. He then pulls off your jumper, revealing the matching red lace bra. "Matching underwear?! Oh, you little minx, you planned this, didn't you?"

"Maybe," you smile coyly. "I know how much you love this set."

"Fuck, I do. I really do." He sighs, sitting back on his heels to rake his eyes over your body. "You're so fucking perfect."

Your cheeks flush and you reach out to undo his jeans. You manage to undo the button and unzip his fly, tugging them down before he stops you, taking over himself. Once he's fully naked, Joe sits in between your thighs and pulls your thong panel to the side, watching in awe as strings of your arousal connecting your pussy to your underwear break away. "Jesus, babe, look how fucking wet you are for me. You like knowing we could get caught, hmm?"

"Just what you do to me." You reply, biting back a moan as Joe drags the hot head of his cock through your pussy lips, lubing himself up.

"Yeah? Well, feel what you do to me, babe?" Joe taps your clit with his cock, making you shiver. He then pushes inside you slowly, the stretch and feeling of him filling you making you moan softly. Joe places a hand over your mouth to muffle your noises. "Quiet, babe, remember?"

You nod, looking up at him with big, wide eyes. His cock bottoms out inside you, and he gives you a moment to adjust to him. "God, baby, you're so fucking tight. Can I move?"

You nod again, his hand still covering your mouth. He lets out a blissful sigh as he begins to fuck you deeply and slowly, each stoke of his cock against your gspot and nudge of his public bone against your clit making your entire body tingle.

Something behind Joe catches your eye - it's the long mirror standing next to your wardrobe. You moan softly at the reflection of Joe's bum and toned back as he fucks into you. How does this bugger look good from every angle?! Joe follows your eyeline. You can practically see his brain working as a grin spreads across his face. "I bloody love you, filthy girl. Wanna watch me fuck you?"

The involuntary clench of your pussy around him tells him all he needs to know. He chuckles, pulling out of you. You make a noise of complaint. He kisses you sweetly before instructing you to lay at the foot of the bed with your head hanging off the edge. You do so, watching him in the upside down reflection of the mirror as he crawls back over to you, sliding his cock back into your tight warmth. The rush of blood to your head coupled with the fact that you could watch him in the mirror fucking you with that perfect sexy look on his face made every stroke of his cock feel that much better.

Then he slides a hand around your throat, squeezing at the sides. You choke out a soft moan, and your pussy clenches around his cock.

"Fuck, you like that? Like my hand around your throat whilst I'm fucking you?" Joe growls, keeping his voice low. You whimper and nod, and he squeezes a little tighter. You feel like you're floating; everything he's doing to you being magnified by the position he had you in and the hand around your throat. "Look at yourself, you're so fucking nasty. Letting your boyfriend fuck you like this with your parents in the next room. Fucking filthy, baby."

Your eyes practically roll back in your skull as the coil inside you suddenly and unexpectedly snaps, and Joe has to quickly remove his hand from your throat to clamp it over your mouth once more to stop your moans from echoing throughout the entire street, let alone the house. He lets you ride it out, before flipping you onto your front, still able to see yourself in the mirror, and begins to fuck you from behind.

Joe keeps his eyes on yours in the mirror, dark and intense, as he grips your hips to fuck into you deeply. Skin slapping against skin, your soft moans and his quiet grunts, it's the most exotic soundtrack. Honestly it might be some of the best sex you've ever had.

"M'gonna cum again," you whine, fists balled into the bedsheets. To help get you there, Joe finds your clit and rubs rough circles into it. Honestly it's too much, and it brings you, shaking and gasping, to another powerful orgasm. This time Joe has to shove your face down into the mattress to muffle your sounds; you just can't control yourself and honestly he loves it, but that's not a conversation he's willing to have around the breakfast table tomorrow morning.

"Fuck, babe, gonna cum." Joe pants. "Tell me where you want it."

"Inside, Joe, cum inside me." You push your ass back against him and his hips stutter as he finds his release, coming inside you with a breathy moan. You shiver at the feeling of his load coating your insides, his cock twitching as he comes.

You both collapse on the bed, panting, with stupid grins on your faces.

"Merry fucking Christmas." Joe laughs breathlessly, and you giggle, burying your face into his chest.

"We've still gotta make the New Year happy, babe, think we can do that?" You grin, kissing his flushed skin. He laughs, leaning down to kiss you, one hand cupping your neck.

"Abso-fucking-lutely, love."

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn imagine #kats dickcember event #kats hoevember event #joseph quinn x y/n

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ofcloudsandstars · 4 years ago

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Spring Crossquarter {Beltane} Fantasy Feast

We are nearing the pinnacle of Spring! I long for the day when I can have the most dreamy aromatic sensual Beltane feast and celebration. However creating visual boards is the first step towards that reality. I did go overboard with some of the selections with this one, like I tried to be more Honest in my Imbolc and Ostara board (like as if I were to actually have a feast and constructed a menu) but this one I did not care about portions or the amount of dishes present, I just threw everything in there.

As I have decided to update my 2016 fantasy feasts Beltane was next after Ostara and Imbolc. These visualization posts have helped me manifest some incredible celebrations and gatherings and as my tastes have gotten more extravagant and complicated its time for an upgrade.

In the read more there are the recipe links and additional explanations on personal symbolism and of course the image credits! I also always plan my feasts to be vegan inclusive for those with dietary restrictions but also aim for all the food to be somewhat local which matters in these seasonal feasts since it's celebrating local nature. Anyway there is something for everyone here.

1: Starters Since we are in still in Spring of course there will be a crudité board, yet unlike Ostara which was refreshing and green, this would show all the floral extravagance of spring from the zesty radishes, edible flowers (Romanesco broccoli is technically a flower!) to floral seasonal toppings. To make the dip vegan for all to enjoy I would go for an Oatley crème fraiche dipping sauce I would infuse with some olive oil and chive blossoms. Along with this I would love to have the delicacy of chive butter snails with chive flowers. Not everyone would be adventurous for snails but there are a lot of other ideas here for starters such as the Creamy Garlic Scape with Chive Flower Pesto tart. Or the Purple Pansy Salad Rolls which would be a nice addition to the crudité board. Lastly I just love the presentation of the butterfly sandwiches. I'd imagine them to be like the little cucumber or spiced egg sandwiches you'd get at high tea. If I were to slap all of these dishes into one feast I would mostly have the crudité board with the scape tart and the snails. I am unsure about the rolls and sandwiches because it would just be really filling before the main course! But they deserve to be seen haha.

Floral Crudite Board Creamy Garlic Scape + Chive Flower Pesto and Asparagus Tart Recipe Purple Pansy Salad Rolls Recipe Snails with Chive Flowers Tea Party Butterfly Sandwiches Source

2: Sides The bread choice would be chive rolls. To accompany this would be floral compact butter. A lot of flowers are actually more savory and salady then fragrant and sweet. Even some of the more aromatic blooms have a vegetal undertone to their flavor which is why the violet vinaigrette caught my eye. That would definitely accompany the artichoke veggie main where guests would be able to dip each artichoke petal in. Lastly there will definitely be asparagus locally grown as they taste incredible when fresh out the garden. The ones the local garden I volunteer at taste so aromatic yet also slightly meaty? It's hard to describe but incredible sensual like the same way truffles have a somewhat "meaty" or umami flavor to them but are very aromatic.

Compound Flower Butter Recipe Honorable Mention: Compact Chive Garlic Butter Recipe Cheddar Chive Bread Rolls Asparagus Source Violet Vinaigrette

3: Mains The Main two dishes would be an aromatic duck served with a side of spring onions sliced into blooms. Duck also has such a fragrant and rich flavor to it that would accompany the floral salads and dishes very well. The vegan option would be roasted artichoke that guests can dip into the floral vinaigrette.

Roasted Beer Duck Recipe Garlic Butter Charred Artichoke Recipe Red Onion Flowers with Rosemary Recipe Roasted Onion Flowers

4: Desserts Ok this is definitely where I have gone overboard but there were too many dishes to choose from which made the selection difficult so I just included all of them for the visuals. If I were to host this feast I would realistically just pick 1 or 2 of these things (A cake and a tart) but for each sabbat I have a special dessert, a tart and a simple cake in mind so it would really depend on how many people are attending. For the special dish I would love a floral jelly, a floral panna cotta or floral jello cake like with blossoms or violets. The tart is rhubarb (I know in some regions rhubarb is very summer-y but mid-April is when it's season starts here in the UK) and the pound cake would be rose buttercream or violet sugar. I do love how buttercream can be easily shaped into flowery shapes so I’d be leaning towards that. I just love the complexity and versatility of floral desserts. You do have to be a little familiar with what you're doing because floral flavors can easily go from sensual and enchanting to soap/perfume getting squirted in your mouth. Some flavors like rose and jasmine are very safe but others like lavender and violet can get edgy. A great way to balance those flavors out is adding honey as it balances it with a nectary undertone which makes you feel like you are eating delicious butterfly food instead of a block of soap. Lastly the Wondersmith's beautiful cake is very summer solstice vibe I will admit, but I really loved the presentation of butterflies and the elderflower blooms which are starting to bud around this time of year anyway so I thought it was worth adding in. Usually I would not include anything like strawberries in something like this as I feel they peak closer to summer solstice and are more symbolic to summer than spring for me and the region I live in currently.

Rhubarb Rose-twisted Tart The Wondersmith Elderflower Rhubarb Fairy Cake Lilac & Violet Panna Cotta Tart Lavender Lemon Sugar Pound Cake Rose Buttercream Cupcakes Cherry Blossom Jelly No bake Cheesecake Buttercream Pansy Cake Black Sesame Swirl Cake

Honorable Mentions: Lilac Cake with Matcha Glaze (Gluten Free) Flower Bouquet Cake

5: Drinks Every beverage of course would be infused with more blooms and nectary flavors. I would love to serve fleurette cocktails upon arrival with fairy floss in them that would melt down upon pouring. Fleurette cocktails are pink prosecco, st germain (or elderflower syrup), rose water and a flower garnish. There would be so many options for non alcoholic drinks such as Lavender lemonade, floral teas and of course I would love to have a blooming tea being served in a glass pot during the main course.

La Fleurette Cocktail Fairy Floss Champagne reference Lavender Lemonade Flower Tea Source Blooming Tea Source

Honorable Mentions: Rose Tea Turkish Delight Cocktail

6: Treats Ok finally last part!! This would probably be omitted from a real feast I would host because we would probably get our sweet-tooths satisfied by dessert, however I always feel like including this part as treats always made holidays more memorable for me as a kid. Each holiday had its specific candy or snacks and they were like memorable tokens you acquired and snacked on days later after the celebration. Especially the candy!! If there were kids present these treats would definitely be given in little goody bags maybe in flower pots or planters as buckets to encourage them to grow something for their garden in them. Some ideas for treats would be glazed sugar cookies (the butterfly ones), home made pixie sticks with edible glitter, rose pops (I also love the idea of dressing up regular lollipops as flowers), rose Turkish delights, violet candies and gummy worms. The only savory treat I can think of would be like kale chips.

Rose Cake Pops recipe Butterfly Iced Cookies Homemade Pixie Sticks Homemade Rose Turkish Delights Leone Violets

___________________

Please share your thoughts with me!! Tell me about the recipes you like to have on this day or what you associate with spring. I feel like my approach to Beltane may be different from what most of the community does but its because it's often a reflection of the nature that surrounds me. I grew up this time of the year being bombarded (literally I was surrounded by magnolia trees) with flowers so Beltane has always been a sensual floral flirty fairy festival to me.

_________________

Image Credits:

Beltane Tea by Julia Nikitina Butterfly Animation Gif Embracing by: James R Eads Floral Tablescape Bigger Floral Tablescape Rose Lanterns Misty Forest with Bluebells Magnolia Tree Mushroom Lantern Floral candles and Lilac Dessert tablescape

#beltane #feast #recipe #recipes #food #spring crossquarter #crossquarter #sabbat #feast days #I went overboard with this one #fairycore #spring magic #long post #I'll probably end up redoing this one cause it's so excessive lol

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

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Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby. Day 24: That’s A Wrap

Warnings: Bad Language words

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: And here we are, the final instalment of our Ransom advent. I have had an absolute ball writing these, although this one was a struggle as I’m a little down at the moment about my other blog and losing all my previous works. However, it’s Christmas Eve so I’ve got some prosecco, gingerbread and I’m ready for Santa.

Huge thank you to @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @ohthankevans13 for their amazing chapters to, and thank you all for reading.

Merry Christmas everyone.

The credits to National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation started, signalling the end to the film and you stretched and looked at Ransom, grinning.

“That was nothing like what happened to me with the lights.” He drawled as he turned his head to look at you, blue eyes locking onto yours.

“You’re lying to yourself, Ran.” You shrugged with a giggle. “You know, I think Hugh Griswold has a ring to it.”

“Eat shit, Y/N”

At that you laughed and swung your legs down to the floor from where they has been resting over his as you lay on the couch. “Think I’m gonna take a bath and get in my new jammies.”

“What’s the point?” Ransom turned to you. “I’m only going to strip you out of them later.”

You completely ignored his suggestive comment, because really, who were you trying to kid? It was as much a forgone conclusion he’d have you naked and crying his name later that evening, as it was that he was going to end up arguing with his parents over dinner tomorrow. Yeah, that wasn’t exactly something you were looking forward to but thankfully your parents were going to be there to help you play peacemaker.

“The point, dearest hubs of mine, is that it’s Christmas Eve and it’s a tradition as you well know that we get new jammies.”

“Mine better be tasteful.” Ransom looked at you and at that you simply shrugged and stood up. “I’ll call you if I get stuck in the tub.”

“How long you gonna be?” Ransom asked

“Does it matter?”

“In a word, yes. I need to wrap your presents.”

You blinked and then snorted “I thought after last year you were going to use a gift wrapping service at the Mall?”

“I did for some.” He shrugged. “But there’s a something that only arrived yesterday and-“

“I knew it!” You shook your head. “That package was for me!”

“No, it was for me. To give to you. Now go, piss off for your bath.” *****

Once you were out of the way Ransom, knowing you would be at least an hour, grabbed himself a scotch and sat down in the living room, flicking through some news from the Country Club about the New Year’s Eve gala, and a few other emails on his phone. Once he had finished, he refilled his glass and headed to the spare room where he had hidden your gifts in a locked suitcase. You were a pain in the ass for finding them and then trying to pick at the corners to see what they were and after last year, when you’d totally ruined the surprise of the new pair of Louboutins he had spent ages agonising over, not to mention the fact you’d blatantly been expecting the La Perle bra and panties, nor were you overly surprised at the three piece Louis Vuitton luggage set.

Nope, he was taking no chances. He was excited this year, too. He’d bought you a gorgeous Tiffany necklace and bangle set, one you’d been eyeing up in the Mall a few months back, along with some high end make up only available in two stores in the entire of Boston, a huge bottle of Chanel perfume and a stupidly expensive espresso machine which had caught his eye. It matched the colour scheme in your kitchen and eliminated the need for stupid filter papers as it operated off pods and he’d even had a demonstration from the spotty assed teenager in the shop so he was perfectly geared up and fully aware of how to use it. But all that was wrapped already, it was what had arrived yesterday that he was most excited about. It was an order all the way from a little tea shop in Covent Garden you had dragged him to earlier in the year, on the trip to London during which you had fallen pregnant. It was a custom made wooden box full of specialists teas which, try as you might, you had failed to find anywhere back home once you had run out of the ones you had bought back with you. Yup, He’d come a long way from the days of buying you crotch-less underwear, sex toys and lube. Making his way back into the living room he placed the gift wrapped items under the tree and then grabbed the sheets of paper, tape and scissors and dropped onto the floor by the fire. Some other shitty movie was playing on the TV now so he changed the channel over to a replay of the Christmas Special for the Great British Baking Show that you’d gotten him hooked on, before tossing the remote aside. Placing the box on the paper he began to wrap. It should have been easy. It was a fucking box but after four attempts the only think he’d managed to wrap were his fingers together with tape about sixty times and the box was no closer to being wrapped than before. In a huge bout of frustration he grabbed the paper, scrunched it round the box and taped round it about twenty times. It looked like it had been wrapped by Edward Scissorhands during an epileptic fit, but whatever. With a final groan of frustration he tossed the box under the tree, and then frowned as the TV turned off. Ransom glanced round for the remote but it was nowhere to be found. Cursing he stood up, checked behind all the cushions and even retraced his steps through the house but nothing. “For fucks sake!” He growled, hands on his hips as he stared round the living room. He had definitely had it before as he changed that shitty movie off before he wrapped... Oh, hell no! “Fuck my mother fucking life!” He spat out as he stalked towards the package he had just tossed under the tree and grabbed it. ***** By the time you came back downstairs Ransom was lounging back on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table, drink in hand. He looked up at you and snorted, taking in your fluffy Christmas themed Mini-Mouse pyjamas as they stretched over your now rather huge bump. “Do you want a drink or something, Princess?” “Erm, you know, I think I’ll grab a chamomile tea.” You nodded after a while and Ransom smiled and stood up. “I got something for you.” You snorted. “I’m not falling for that again.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t mean my dick, Y/N.” He took your hand and led you to the kitchen where you spotted a shiny, deep brown box. Frowning you looked at your husband before you walked over to it and gave a gasp when you saw the Nelson and Norfolk Tea Company logo carved into the wood. “How did you get these?” You managed to stutter as you opened the clasp and pulled up the lid to reveal four rows which were then split further into three, each square of different flavoured, individually packed tea bags, lined with a deep purple velvet. “You know how. I had them shipped over.” “Ransom, these...” You struggled for words as you turned to face him, blinking back the tears that had sprung forth from his thoughtfulness. “I love them, thank you.” “You’re welcome, baby.” He smiled genuinely as you moved and wrapped your arms around him and stood on your toes to give him a soft kiss. “Wait.” You cocked your head as you pulled away. “Were you wrapping these?”

“Yup.” He nodded “But I had an incident involving the remote and no spare paper so you get them tonight instead.” You gave a chuckle. “Just another in a long list of real life tasks you have taken on and spectacularly failed at, huh?” “Hey, some of them I’ve managed.” He huffed and you smiled, running your hand up through his hair. “I know, and I never said this before but I’m so touched you actually tried, even when you failed, it shows you care.” “Of course I care.” His face grew serious as he looked at you. “You’re my wife and you’re carrying my kid. I’ll always care about you both, Y/N, even if I’m not the best at showing it.” “You show it in your own way.” You smiled gently, leaning up to kiss him again. “Merry Christmas, Ransom.” “Merry Christmas, baby girl.” He smiled, his lips capturing yours in a deep kiss, both of you stood in the kitchen as the snow fell outside. He might be a huge man baby, but he’s your huge man baby. And you wouldn’t change him for the world

#real life tasks with ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader

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reverielix · 4 years ago

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Tenerife Sea (One) ⇢ Bang Chan

genre: fluff, cliché friends to lovers yanno what it is warnings: a curse word, so much cheese, oc has a distorted view on marriage and romantic relationships because of past trauma word count: 729 summary: why would you fall in love just to get your heart broken? and obvi the song is Tenerife Sea lol but I think we’re all familiar with it at this point haha

In a garden of blooming tulips and roses under blazing sun, the husband kisses his new wife. Dads sit in the first row, uncles in the third.

“What?” Chan giggles at my nose scrunch.

“Wouldn’t it be weird to kiss your husband in front of everybody?” An elderly woman behind us in the beige chairs taps my shoulder and holds an index to her lips.

“Sorry.” He covers his mouth with wrinkled eyes.

When the ceremony ends, and I’ve neglected finding relatives for the woman—she looks like a Carla—everybody sits down on the villa’s enormous patio. The newly-wed take photos for an album that will end up in the dusty attic of their once shared home while we wait with grumbling stomached between Calla lilies on carefully allocated tables.

Auntie Livia assigned my parents the same as us. She must've forgotten they divorced. And I forgot to bring my scream pillow.

“Don't leave me alone with your father, sweetie. I had to deal with him for twenty years, can't do another second.” Nineteen years and three months. But she says twenty every time he’s in the same vicinity, and I have to babysit them as if a repayment.

During all five courses I talk with mom about uni—which revives her beloved college memories—and Chan listens to dad ramble about wine and Formula 1. Everybody laughs and clinks glasses when they're not stuffing their faces with fruit snacks like they forgot what comes after: marriage.

After coffee and cake (it matched auntie's white-purple nails but tasted made-in-a-nail-salon as well), catering leads us to the dance floor at the opposite side of the Mediterranean villa. Uneven cobblestones force women to claw their partners’ arms in too-high-inched heels for seven rounds “to our wonderful bride and groom”.

Off crooked walls resonates “Marry You” by Bruno Mars, tottered dances shared between. This part of the villa is much nicer than the garden and patio: the lilies don't stink like rancid yogurt, mom isn't forced near dad and round lights under the night sky chase children in laughter.

Or maybe it's Chan's hand on my back. “You will fall,” he says. “No Prosecco needed.” Way too many melon-orange sticks for my acid reflux later, he glues himself to my side still.

When Ed Sheeran’s acoustic guitar plays, he withdraws to extend his hand, "Shall we dance?"

Golden circles adore his eyes. “Yes.” People dance with their friends all the time.

A wave of shivers spreads from around my waist where his arms guide me. “You look so wonderful in your dress,” he sings into my neck. “I love your hair like that.”

We are surrounded by all these lights and people who talk too much (about slow dance to teens who ignore them and then regret it because; two, no, three steps on his leather shoes later, he pulls away in a twirl, and changes into falsetto.)

“Should this be the last thing I see, I want you to know it's enough for me.” He hangs off the lyrics as if his confession. “Cause all that you are is all that I’ll ever need.”

Forehead on mine, hands intertwined he looks at me from under his brows. “I'm so in love.”

Dimples charm his shy smile before he hides in my strands. His smell of mint and green apple—the Versace perfume l told mom he wouldn't wear—as I trace a lock.

Right foot first, not more than a step back. The chorus passes without another dirt patch on his leather.

“You look so beautiful in this light. Your silhouette over me.” His breath tickles my neck where the high-low dress ends. He's never sounded this breathy, like he needs to let me in on a secret.

“Just say the word and I will disappear into the wilderness.” But secrets need solace. So I hinge our ring fingers on my search for a hideaway.

Roses and tulips look smaller with the lanterns on, garden bigger without the folding chairs. “I'm so in love,” I sing.

He fills his lungs and crosses his arms on my back through the kiss, mine on his neck. We can't be close enough in a second, third, fourth. Hearts pup faster at how his exhale hits my philtrum, chemise feels under his jacket.

Fuck it. Let's get our hearts broken.

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maddiicake · 5 years ago

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Tag Meme

Tagged by: @alternate168 . Thanks so much ^u^ This looks like fun~ <3

~~~

TAG Part 1

“Describing Your Blog Tag”

Icon: My Artist Persona (”ArtSona”)

My Content: Various Anime--mostly Fullmetal Alchemist--my art, other’s art, and anything else I find interesting.

Letter Color: White (?) I don’t use the Mobile version of Tumblr much |D

Header: Old Prehistoric Art

URL: Based off my DeviantART Username, Sakura-Araragi, which I made about 3 years before making my Tumblr account.

Blog Title: Drunk on Toxicola

(”Toxicola” is a word I made up that’s a mix between the fact that I’m a toxic person, and cola--also the “drunk” part being a joke about how I’m made fun of for being of age to drink alcohol xD Seriously... I was called “alcoholic” because I was drinking one bottle that had only 4% alcohol in it--not to mention I’m obese, so, scientifically speaking, my body can contain more liquor in it... -__- But, I digress. In other words... “Drunk on Toxicola” is just a spiteful slight to a certain couple of assholes xDD).

Tag Part 2

Who Were You Named After?: I’d rather not say for personal reasons... ^^; Especially since it’ll give away my real name.

Last Time You Cried?: A few days before Christmas. It was one of those “frustrated/angry/stressed cries” because I was dealing with some disgusting people.

Do You Like Your Handwriting?: Cursive, Yes. Printed, No ^^;

What Is Your Favorite Lunch Meat?: Turkey. can’t go wrong with a good turkey sandwich ^u^

Longest Relationship: 2.5 - 3 weeks (Nothing personal. It was just going too fast for me).

Do You Still Have Your Tonsils?: No. Just one of a few things taken out of my throat xD

Do You Bungee Jump?: No. But I’d like to one day ^u^

What Is Your Favorite Kind of Cereal?: Frosted Flakes

Do You Untie Your Shoes When You Take Them Off?: No. I just slip them off. I do the same when I put them on xD

Do You Think You’re Strong Willed?: I personally don’t think so (or think highly of myself in general--for modest and humble reasons, not attention-seeking kinds). But, I’ve been told otherwise.

Favorite Ice Cream?: Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough

What Is the First Thing You Notice About a Person?: Face, hair, body (for both genders)

Football or Baseball?: Football

Favorite Doughnut?: Cream-Filled

What Are You Listening To?: Podcast

If You Were a Crayon, What Color Would You Be?: Brown. Because I’m a piece of shit poop. (And it’s also the color of chocolate so.... ewe)

What Is Your Favorite Smell?: Formaldehyde. (I also like the smell of fresh baked pastries)

Who Was the Last Person You Talked to on the Phone?: My best friend/friendster.

Hair Color?: Ash brown

Eye Color?: Hazel.

Favorite Food to Eat?: Pasta

Scary Movies or Happy Endings?: Depends on what I’m in the mood for xD

Last Movie You Watched in the Theater?: Avengers: End Game

What Color Shirt are you Wearing?: Purple

Favorite Holiday?: Independence Day

Beer or Wine?: Beer. (Unless the wine is a Prosecco)

Night Owl or Morning Person?: Night Owl

Favorite Day of the Week?: Saturday

Favorite Animal?: Cats

Do You Have a Pet?: No. I can’t have any at the moment... ;A;

Where Would You Like to Travel?: Around Europe; probably close around the UK.

And the users I tag are...

@pattopuss , @awoken-artist , @goldenalchemicromance , @courtneymonroe , @sady-is-secretly-an-alchemist

#memes #tag memes

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letterfromtrenwith · 5 years ago

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Merry Kissmas

Poldark Advent Calendar - 4th December

Modern AU George/Elizabeth + Mistletoe

Requested by anon

George isn’t really a big fan of Christmas parties...

"George! You're very late!" Caroline cried when she opened the door, her disapproving expression losing just a touch of seriousness by virtue of being above a Christmas jumper featuring a pug wearing a santa hat and the sequin-ed legend "Bah Humpug". It was the most Caroline thing he'd ever seen.

"I've been at - " He paused to let Caroline bestow two slightly boozy kisses on his cheeks, " - work!"

"George! It's Christmas!"

"It's Dec 10th." He protested as she dragged him into the living room. The entrance hall had been well decorated, but this was a bit like being smacked in the face with a Christmas card. A tree positively heaving with baubles loomed in the corner of the room, tinsel crawled along the top of every picture frame and just about every flat surface held at least one glittery stag or sweet-faced knitted snowman.

"It's no good arguing, George, it's been Christmas since Halloween so far as Caroline's concerned." Dwight appeared at George's elbow, offering a glass of something sparkling. "Non-alcoholic champagne, since you're driving."

"Thank you."

"At least you've made some sort of effort, I suppose." Caroline sniffed and flicked his tie - a garish green creation covered in tiny candy canes and snowflakes, which Margaret had gleefully presented him with at the office, insisting he couldn't possibly go to Caroline's party without something appropriate to wear. He did look very low-key compared with the everyone else - a dazzling array of Santas, reindeer, gingerbread men, baubles, robins and who knew what else adorned the guests in the form of jumpers, dresses, earrings and hairbands. Across the room he spotted Demelza wearing a bright green dress patterned with tinsel and baubles like a Christmas tree, while Verity was dressed in a red skirt emblazoned with Santa and Rudolf. Even Dwight was sporting a knit designed to look like a Christmas pudding.

He spent a short while mingling - and making the most of the excellent buffet, he'd eaten lunch at twelve and was now absolutely starving - until he headed to the kitchen to get some water, and instead was stopped in his tracks at the door. Elizabeth was standing at the bench - a clear, sparkling drink in her hand - laughing at something Emma was telling her. George had been introduced to Elizabeth at another one of Caroline's many parties in summer, and he hadn't relished the experience. Not because he didn't like Elizabeth - completely the opposite, in fact - but because he turned into a gibbering idiot every time he got within ten feet of her. Caroline's Halloween Party had been particularly embarrassing, not that being dressed as a Roman centurion had helped very much.

"Talk to her!" A little voice hissed in his ear, and he turned around to see a elf who looked suspiciously like Elizabeth's cousin, Morwenna, sneaking off back to the party. Easier said than done, Santa's Little Helper. George debated sneaking off himself but unfortunately Emma - in a white jumper declaring 'Merry Christmas Ya Filthy Animal' - turned around and saw him, which also attracted Elizabeth's attention. She gave him a wide smile, and George immediately felt himself get tongue-tied. He really should not have trouble talking to beautiful women at his age, but then again Elizabeth wasn't just any beautiful woman, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met, as well as intelligent, witty and fascinating.

"George! How are you?" She put her head on the side, like she was actually interested, and he had to admire her politeness. He managed to stutter out some sort of response and struggle his way through small talk for a couple of minutes, feeling a complete fool the entire time, until Caroline called for Elizabeth from the living room, and she disappeared with another dazzling smile.

Ha managed another hour - and a few more pigs-in-blankets - before he had to escape to the conservatory for a bit of a breather. The party may not have spilled over into that room (yet), but it was no less decorated than everywhere else. It was a clear night, stars visible in the sky overhead; an advantage of living on the coast. Frost sparkled on the lawn, and at the end of the garden he caught the quick flash of the eyes of some nocturnal creature. The muffled strains of 'Step Into Christmas' echoed from the living room and out of the corner of his eye he saw someone in a Star Wars Christmas jumper - Drake - dance past the lounge window.

"Ah, there you are." George whipped around far too quickly at the sound of Elizabeth's voice. She stepped out of the house, giving a little involuntary shiver at the cooler air in the conservatory. He hadn't paid too much attention to her outfit before bar a flash of the colour - she wore a purple top covered in sequins, which matched her bauble shaped earrings. "Was wondering where you'd disappeared too."

"I've been to two clients' Christmas parties already, and I've got at least four more scheduled, not including the Bank do. I'm a bit partied out already." Evidently even the non-alcoholic champers had loosened his tongue, since he thought that was the most coherent sentence he'd ever managed in Elizabeth's presence.

"Oh, God, I'm with you there. Everyone I know seems to have decided they want to throw a party this year. There's only so many mince pies you can eat, whatever Demelza might say!"

They stood in blessedly comfortable silence for a short while, 'Step Into Christmas' fading into 'Santa Baby'. Somewhere in the distance, somebody was setting off fireworks.

"George, look up." Elizabeth murmured and he did as was told, despite the oddness of the request. Hanging above him, in the centre of the glass roof, was a sprig of mistletoe.

"Oh, er - "

"I've been trying to catch you under that all evening."

"I - what?"

"Well, all of the other blatant hints I've been dropping since about September don't seem to have been working, so I thought I'd best just cut to the chase." She grinned as he stared at her open-mouthed, but her smile gradually started to falter. "That is, unless you've been nicely giving me the brush off and I've just - mmmmm."

George had closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to hers. After a tiny, surprised pause she wrapped her hand around his silly Christmas tie and pulled him closer. She tasted like Prosecco and gingerbread, and George was going to have to seriously revise his opinion of Christmas parties.

#poldark #george warleggan #elizabeth warleggan #elizabeth chynoweth #george x elizabeth #poldark advent calendar #pac19 #f: ge #f: au #fic #m: fic #the first bit of fic I've published in flipping ages #and yes it's set on dec 10th but I'm posting it on dec 4th what of it

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danfanciesphil · 6 years ago

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Bodyguard au rn miss 💋💋

hey anyone that wanted me to write the bodyguard au inspired by this picture of phil, here’s what i got for u xoxo

On Thursdays, their busiest nights, the club offers two for one drinks for anyone who gets there before twelve, meaning the line outside the door often snakes all the way down to the pier. It’s gotten warmer over the last month, so Phil no longer has to feel as guilty about the hoards of people shivering in their skimpy outfits for hours in the freezing seaside air, but it’s still not fun being the guy who has to make them all wait. Strict club rules though - no more than fifteen people to be let in at once, staggered in five minute intervals.

A few people are trying to engage Phil in chatter, but he remains stoic and silent, arms folded just below the stitching on his tight black t-shirt that reads ‘Try It Mate’. The people at the front of the queue, a girl in tattered tights and a birthday sash flanked by two equally bimbo-ish friends, are finding this t-shirt hilarious, and keep yelling this at him, as if they actually think he can’t hear them standing two feet away. He’s had a lot of practice at ignoring drunken screeching though, so he just stares at the roiling sea in the distance, fast-forwarding his brain a few hours, to when he can relax in his bed, eat leftover pizza and play some video game he could complete blindfolded.

Billy, the other bouncer working tonight, taps Phil discreetly on the arm - the signal that enough time has passed to let some more people in. With a quiet sigh, Phil turns and unhooks the rope separating him from the drunk girls, and inclines his head to let them through. As they stumble inside the door, flashing their passports and driver’s licences, Billy makes a disapproving face. Phil knows that some bouncers would label the girls as ‘TDTD’ (too drunk to dance), and not let them inside, but Phil can’t be bothered to go through that whole charade with them. They look the sort that would kick off, and hold up the queue even more. They’re straight, probably, out on a girls night for the sash-girl’s birthday, and fancy trying out a gay club just to be daring. It pisses Phil off, and if he were more like Billy, weathered by years of the job and willing to take no nonsense, he might be more inclined to refuse them entry.

But it’s too late now, they’re already inside, likely ordering prosecco at a bar that serves mostly jagerbombs and cheap imitation cosmos, then clambering up on the podiums with the professional dancers and drag queens to show off for their Instagram feed. Billy nudges him in the side, and Phil realises he’s still watching the entrance where the girls disappeared, and not focusing on the queue. He turns quickly to the next person - tall, skinny, dressed in a crop top that looks like it’s made for a doll, a thin, satin, pink and white bomber jacket, and a pair of denim shorts so tiny that they barely begin to cover the person’s ass. The highlight of the ensemble is the lilac wig that cascades in loose curls down to waist-level, complete with a thick fringe that hangs down over whoever’s eyes are hiding behind it.

Phil takes one look at this joker and has half a mind to turn them away without even speaking to them, but a skinny arm reaches up to offer an ID, so Phil sighs and takes it even though every one of his spidey-senses is tingling. It’s a green driver’s permit, not even a full license; the date printed would make the owner twenty-one. Phil gives the lanky figure in front of him another brief once-over - no way are they a day over eighteen, and that’s pushing it. His eyes flick to the name: Daniel James Howell. There’s a photo too of course, of an attractive, far more masculine-presenting, clean-cut young adult with a slight side-fringe. The lilac-haired beauty in front of Phil does not, in his opinion, match this general look. Still, he supposes it’s his job to make sure.

“What’s your name?” Phil asks, starting off easy so he doesn’t humiliate the kid.

“I guess you could call me Dan, most of the time,” lilac-hair says in an unexpectedly sure, confident voice; Phil can’t be sure whether the tremor he can hear is in from cold or from their nerves about being caught.

“Don’t sound very sure about that.”

They get a lot of this kind of thing. Young, nervous gay guys - it’s mostly guys - sneaking out to come for their first gay club experience, usually dressed up in their mum or sister’s clothes, disguised but still scared shitless that someone will clock them and they’ll be forced prematurely out of the closet. This kid is likely still in school, desperate to find a place he can be himself - unfortunately, the law is the law, and he’ll just have to come back when he’s old enough to have a real ID.

“Think I don’t know my own name?” the kid asks. “Listen, from nine to five, my name’s Dan Howell. But I’m not going by Dan tonight, get me?”

The irritation in this person’s voice makes Phil pause. Normally, a bad attitude like this would be enough of a deterrent that they’d risk getting turned away, but if anything, on lilac-hair the attitude is just confusing. What does he have to be irritated about? He’s got no gaggle of friends with him, nor does he appear to be in a hurry. Phil’s just trying to do his job - if this person is underage, they must’ve known this might happen.

He studies the ID again, noting that for a fake it’s very convincing. He turns to flash the small green card at Billy, who frowns at it, then shrugs in a ‘looks real to me’ way. Phil’s gaze drifts back to lilac-hair and asks, “what’s your star sign?”

A tiny smile spreads over thin, glossed pink lips. “Is that the best you can come up with?”

Absurdly, Phil feels himself grow warm with embarrassment. It makes no sense - he’s been flirted with hundreds of times working here and it’s never so much as rattled him before. He shrugs it off, trying to appear unamused. “I’m not flirting with you, I’m trying to see if you’re fucking about with me. Might wanna play along, sunshine.”

The pink lips part to let out a sigh of frustration. “I’m a gemini. Wanna know my bra size too?”

The dates on the ID work; Phil long ago learned the correct dates for the star signs for this exact reason. He ignores the snarky follow up question, which is good of him. “Can you lift your wig, please?”

Lilac-hair hesitates, then flicks the long locks falling by their ears back over each shoulder, revealing a lot of pale skin and sharp, jutting collarbones. Phil averts his eyes quickly - if this person is underage, he can’t be staring inappropriately. Not that he should be doing that with any customers that are legal either.

“Not like that,” Phil says, brusquely, “I can’t see your eyes.”

Lilac-hair lifts their head, chin jutting out, and behind the unbrushed lilac strands, Phil can almost make out two dark, almond-shaped eyes staring back at him. Phil can’t help an amused smile forcing its way out, born from the kid’s stubborn defiance. This person is not about to let Phil off easily, if they are lying about their age.

So, mostly to speed things along, Phil reaches out a hand - very much without thinking - and pushes the purple fringe back. The kid’s eyes are round and startled, which is fair enough, as Phil hadn’t even known he was going to make such a bold move until he’d already done it. This is far from protocol, probably, touching the customers unless they’re being belligerent and require forcible removal. But he’s too far in now, holding the handful of acrylic hair out of this person’s face. And yep, it’s at once completely obvious that he is, in fact, the same person as the man in the ID photo - no question about it.

The ID is, apparently, real. Lilac hair is twenty-one years of age, and Phil’s just got to accept it. Not a kid at all. He releases the fringe, and lilac-hair blinks as it falls back into their eyes.

“Satisfied?” Lilac hair huffs, straightening the fringe with their fingers.

“In you go,” is all Phil replies, a little gruffly because he knows he’d been wrong to prematurely assume this person was trying to break the law from appearance alone. He hates that his own prejudice can sometimes leak through when assessing people in this job, though he tries his hardest to be totally impartial. He hands ‘Dan’ their ID back and lets them through the rope. Lilac-hair takes their time about going through, pulling the wig back around his shoulders, then swaying their hips as they swan by. Despite knowing he shouldn’t, Phil’s eyes fall to the curve of lilac’s ass, peeking through the hotpants as they head to the door. Phil never wears wigs, but he sees a lot of people in them working here, and long ago learned the difference between a cheap ‘party city’ wig, and an expensive one. The one lilac is wearing is definitely on the cheaper end of the scale, but it’s gorgeous in its tackiness, like the person inside it knows that the pastel colour is exactly their shade. The plastic hair falls in a great tumble down a tapered back, bouncing just above the waistband of those tiny shorts. The sight is unforgettable, Phil can already feel it burning into his retinas, to be replayed in the dark, when he’s alone.

Billy clears his throat then, breaking Phil out of his trance. He rips his eyes away, sheepishly, turning to Billy. “Not a good idea to put your hands on ‘em,” Billy reminds him in his low, rough voice. “Some of ‘em get shirty about it.”

Phil nods, glad of the darkness hiding his flush, and turns to the next set of people in the queue.

At around half one, Phil signals to Billy that he needs to take a piss. The queue is long gone by now, and they’ve moved into the second half of their shift, which is watching the smoking area for people trying to do drugs, and kicking people to the kerb if they get too drunk. There haven’t been too many of either instances this evening, so Phil feels pretty safe about leaving Billy alone for five minutes. He heads inside, scooting behind the bar to get across to the toilets so that he doesn’t have to barge through the crowds on the dancefloor. The bartenders all nod at him as he passes, some exchanging harried looks with him because it’s rammed in here, and they all spent the first few hours of the night making two of every drinks order.

In the unisex bathroom, Phil pees quickly then washes his hands; he notices a few people scarpering from cubicles at the sight of him, but doesn’t bother try and catch them. They’re either doing drugs or having sex, and either one is moronic to do in a bathroom stall if you ask him. He does do a quick scout of the cubicles before he leaves, knocking on doors and saying stern things in the hopes of scaring them into sense for a bit.

It’ll only work for a while - once they know he’s out of sight they’ll be back at it again, but there’s not much he can do about it. They check likely suspects for pills and powders on the way in, and confiscate a fair amount, but Phil’s not dumb and knows there’s a hundred ways they could be hiding it.

It’s as he gets to the bar again that Phil notices the swirling lights washing over a familiar waterfall of lilac, in front of the bar waiting to be served. There’s a guy next to lilac hair, obnoxiously crowding them in a way that Phil is all too familiar with. The guy has a wifebeater on with the word ‘woof’ scrawled across the chest. He’s also wearing a snapback indoors. Both of these are major red flags for Phil, who has seen and kicked out a lot of classic douchebags in his time.

He pauses, waiting to see the scene unfold. The bartenders are swamped with orders from the hoard of people crammed up against the bar - lilac has been pushed right to the edge with woof-man. Unless he’s willing to give up his place in the makeshift queue, he won’t be able to escape unwanted advances. Phil waits, certain that woof is seconds away from making his pig-headed move. He doesn’t have to wait long.

Woof-man leans in and whispers something into the folds of the lilac wig. Whatever is said makes lilac recoil in disgust. To stop him moving away, woof-man reaches out and grabs lilac-hair by the outer hip, his meaty hand cupping the whole of his right ass-cheek, then tugs him in sharply. Already Phil is moving towards them at the sight of this, and that’s when woof-man squeezes his fistful of flesh, apparently quite hard, because in the next second, lilac is calmly reaching between two people to grab a leftover beer on the bar, and promptly upending it over woof’s head. The guy roars, half-drowned by the loud music, but audible enough that the near vicinity of people turn to see. Woof pulls off his snapback and shakes it out, furious; lilac flinches as the droplets of beer spray at him, but doesn’t try to run away. Phil reaches them then, alarm pumping through him to the beat of a Tove Lo song, and promptly inserts himself between the two, his back to lilac, one hand on woof’s chest.

“Oi, that’s enough,” Phil barks in his usual ‘bouncer voice’.

“It’s him not me!” Woof insists, as Phil knew he would. “That little fucker chucked a beer on me!”

“Out of nowhere, was it?” Phil’s already done with this dickhead. “I saw you grab ‘em, so don’t even try it. Far as I’m concerned, you deserve the beer bath.”

Woof’s face flushes red in fury. “Oh, get lost, you wanker. Look at ‘im. Boys don’t dress like that to be treated like Royalty, mate. He fuckin’ wants it.”

A white hot, blinding rage pierces Phil right through the chest. Something primal awakens in him, picturing lilac’s sweet, pretty features as he lifted the fringe from their eyes. “Right,” Phil growls through clenched teeth, “out.”

“What?!” Woof is practically frothing at the mouth. “You can’t do that!”

“I bloody well can mate,” Phil says; he’s hoping that woof will listen to him, as he’s seconds away from throwing a punch, “I’m the bouncer. Out. We don’t want your sort in here.”

The guy scoffs, squaring up, but he’s wobbly, obviously tipsy, and Phil just has to take one sombre, utterly unfazed step towards him, shoulders drawn up to elevate their height difference, and the guy sinks backwards. Phil loves watching the recalculating whirr of their slowly ticking, moronic brains.

“Whatever,” the guy spits, sending a dirty look over Phil’s shoulder, “this place is shite anyway.”

Thankfully, he turns, stalking away, and Phil watches long enough to make sure he heads for the door. Once he’s out of sight, Phil turns, somewhat unsurely, back to lilac, who is staring at Phil, the fringe parted into two curtains that split in curves across a smooth forehead. It’s nice to see those eyes again; they shouldn’t be hidden, Phil thinks..

“Thanks,” lilac says. “But I could’ve handled it.”

“No trouble,” Phil replies, chuckling at lilac’s continued defiance, “‘s what I’m here for. You ok?”

Lilac nods contemplatively, those brown eyes flicking over Phil’s face, head tilted. He’s wearing makeup, Phil notices. Something sparkly wiped across his eyelids and cheeks. Pink lipgloss. Maybe mascara too. Phil feels a curl of something he hasn’t felt for a long time, twisting and writhing like a worm in his gut. He squashes it down, embarrassed by his attraction to such an obvious display of faux-feminine allure. Such a cliche, lusting after the pretty boys, or not-boys perhaps, considering what ‘Dan’ had said outside.

“Bet you get that problem a lot,” Phil says, not thinking. He only realises how much like a come-on it sounds when it’s too late.

Lilac’s eyebrow quirks, and the corner of his mouth twitches up in a surprised smile. “You sure you’re not flirting with me?”

The blush whips into Phil’s cheeks so fast it nearly unstables him. He’s suddenly very aware of the intense effect this person seems to be having on him, just due to their proximity. Sure, beneath the overpowering performance of that wig lies an extraordinarily pretty human, but Phil daily encounters lots of beautiful people in this job. Gay club patrons tend to go ham on the glitz and glamour.

It’s just something about lilac, in their skimpy clothes that look like they were stitched out of a teenage girl’s bedroom curtains, and the cheap synthetic that somehow transforms the outfit into something bewitching. The makeup is done imperfectly, the sparkly blue varnish on their nails is half bitten off. But there’s no denying the effect lilac has, and seems to know they have, judging by the flirtatious smile being aimed his way.

“Of course not,” Phil says anyway, bristling. He averts his eyes; lilac’s stare is lasering right through him. “I work here.”

“Me too,” lilac replies, one bony shoulder shrugging up. Fingers come up to tuck a strand of wig behind an ear, revealing a glinting diamond stud, big and gaudy, in one lobe. “As of about ten minutes ago.”

Phil’s half sure he’s misheard, perhaps due to dizzying effect this person seems to be having on him, as if lilac’s fingers are plucking at every thread stitching him together, unravelling him bit by bit.

“What?”

“They’ve taken me on. Probationary only for now, but I’ll convince them soon enough,” lilac says, then finally catches the eye of Melissa, their head bartender. Lilac mouths ‘sambucca’ at her, then holds up two fingers; she nods, glancing at Phil as if to say ‘did you really let this child in through the front door?’. “I do drag,” lilac says, teeth and tongue teasing out the word. “Or a kind of drag, I guess.”

“Oh,” Phil says, dumbed. He’s not sure what a ‘kind of’ drag could mean, but there’s no doubt that it’s an intriguing thought. “Right.”

Under normal circumstances, Phil would find it more than suspicious that anyone in a cheap wig and very basic outfit, someone barely manage to squeeze past the bouncers in here tonight due to their youthful appearance, could have somehow secured a highly coveted spot amongst some of the best drag acts in Brighton. This club is known for its regular, popular drag performances, happening on Fridays and Saturdays. Phil hadn’t even known the manager was looking for new talent - usually they hold auditions and have a long selection process, so the idea that someone would be able to walk in off the street and find work is almost unfathomable.

But these circumstances aren’t normal. Lilac is not just another drag act, Phil can sense it. If they’re able to hypnotise Phil, snatch him up body and soul with just a flutter of lashes and a few coy smiles, it’s almost terrifying to think what lilac could do to a whole room of people.

“I’m very good,” lilac says then around a knowing smile, so confident that Phil just nods in total acceptance.

Melissa pushes two shot glasses across the bar towards them, then shouts that it’ll be six pounds. Lilac starts digging into some non-existent pocket in those shorts; to stop himself staring, Phil cups a hand around his mouth and shouts to Melissa, “put it on my tab.”

Lilac’s eyes flick up to him through a haze of pastel. “Thanks,” is the response, before they pick up the shots and down both of them one after the other. Phil blinks, chastened. Of course he wasn’t certain that this jewel of a person was attempting to by him a drink, especially as they know Phil is working, but even so… it had sort of looked that way for a minute. Lilac flicks their lashes about, bored, then lands a chocolate gaze back on Phil. “Guess I’ll see you around, then.”

Lilac pushes off the bar, already headed into the midst of the throng. The sight of the lilac covered back retreating is almost unbearable. Phil’s arm shoots out before he can stop it, catching lilac’s arm. Lilac snatches it away quickly, probably way too used to being grabbed at, and Phil feels slimy, holds his hands up in a show of surrender. Lilac has turned on the spot, is staring at him expectantly, warily.

There’s no in point in asking Phil why he’d felt the urge to halt this person’s exit, because he has no idea. He just needed one last, proper, good look at those beautiful, beguiling features before he had to bid farewell for an indefinite amount of time.

“Well?” lilac asks, though because of the music, Phil can only tell what they’d said by how those pink lips shaped the word.

“What’s your name?” Phil asks, for lack of anything better. Anything to prolong the inevitable parting of ways. “Your drag name,” Phil clarifies, hoping it’s the right question.

It seems to make lilac smile, if only slightly. They shift their weight onto one foot, hip jutting out to the side. A gauze of blue passes diagonally over their face, highlighting the gleam in their eyes.

“O-livia Truth,” he says slowly, enunciating each syllable. “I start on Friday. Blow me a kiss from the crowd.” Then, with a spin on a pink stiletto, they’re gone.

#phan #phanfic #bodyguard!phil #dragqueen!dan #gay club #prompts #anon #ellen answers #bonus points if u understand dans drag name

114 notes · View notes

seth-kate · 7 years ago

Note

Jonsa 45 please. You can make it as heartbreaking as possible. :D

I also added these requests to this one shot :)

Anonymous said:

2. “I trusted you.” Jon and Sansa

Anonymous said:

Jonsa 40. “I’m still not over you.”

Another sigh that is heavy and drawn out leaves her mouth as Sansa yet again checks her appearance in the mirror of her car. The electric blue of her eyes stand out against the perfectly applied eyeliner that wings out at the ends, but the bags that hang under them seem to take away from it all. Why sleep still seemed to evade her even after all these months is a mystery. Shouldn’t she be over him by now? Shouldn’t sleep come easier?

But it was the same when her father had died, and those sleepless nights had just become routine. The wondering and questioning never really had gone away no matter how much time had passed. Like grief; heartbreak was the same.

Her heart does a flip inside her chest, and she clasps a hand over the soft satin of her shirt, feeling the almighty thrumming of the muscle underneath it. The voice that she listens to too much seems to whisper to her to turn her car back on and reverse right out of the parking lot. But she tells it to shut up and swallows harshly. She has to do this. It was bound to happen some time or other.

She can hear Robb’s voice in her head. “Sansa, I have to invite him”

Robb didn’t have to invite Jon. He could have simply told him to never darken his doorstep again, just like Sansa had said to him when he had cheated on her all those months ago. But her life was never just that simple, she couldn’t just rid herself of him like any other woman was able to do. She was now forced into being at the same engagement party as him.

Her knees seem to knock against each other as she climbs out of her car, and despite the fact it is over twenty degrees outside she feels awfully cold. She looks at herself in the window outside the restaurant- skinny jeans, ivory blouse and ballet pumps. Was she too casual? Too plain? Was her red hair too wild with those curls blowing in the summer breeze?

She decides then and there that she can’t seem to care any longer if she looks beautiful or not. If she really was beautiful Jon wouldn’t have cheated on her with that silver haired witch.

She can hear her family as she walks to the upstairs lounge- boisterous and loud and treating the place like their own living room. Rickon doesn’t even look up from his phone, that silly grin on his face that he so often wears when texting his girlfriend Shireen. Bran is in deep conversation with Arya- who looks around the room with those massive eyes- silently asking anyone for help. She spots Sansa and waves over frantically.

“God am I glad to see you” she hisses to her sister as she stands beside her “Bran will not shut up about his psychology class at college”

“I’m standing right here” Bran scolds, those dark eyes of his narrowed at his sisters.

“Jon is here by the way” Arya’s voice softens a little as she chooses to ignore Bran’s irritation; her body leaning closer to Sansa’s. She looks away but she can feel those Stark eyes on her, watching every flicker of her expression.

She spots him near the drinks table, broad shouldered and curly haired beside her oldest brother, that stupid lopsided smile on his face that he always wore when he was content. She aches at the fact that she can’t make him smile like that anymore- it is now Daenerys who gets to keep his smiles all to herself. But Sansa will hold them in her memories forever more.

Some small part of her wants to rush over there and throw a glass of prosecco over his head, followed by her kicking and screaming at him. But it is only a small part that holds anger towards him; the rest of her just feels lost and empty without his arms. How was she to ever know that a business trip overseas would end everything between them? That a fleeting tryst on the ferry to Copenhagen with an exotic blonde would destroy everything she’d ever felt for him since secondary school.

“Excuse me but I need a drink” she doesn’t even wait to hear a response from her siblings, and maybe they never offered her one but she is gone from them before she can find out. The bar is crowded with family and friends and she is stopped by her uncle Edmure and his young wife, Olenna Tyrell and of course her future sister in law Margaery. All want to know the same thing- “How are you doing Sansa?” she doesn’t miss how Olenna Tyrell’s eyes flicker to the handsome young man who stands by Robb.

Does everyone know, she wonders to herself, is this the news of the world?

Finally a drink is in her hand and all she remembers telling the barman is to make it a double. She lets her lips soak themselves with the alcohol before she swallows the thick gold liquid. Scotch. Her father’s drink. She wishes now more than ever that her father was here. He would have stood by her side protectively and would have glared at Jon all night until he left. Now it is she who feels awkward and out of place.

Jaime Lannister sits at the end of the bar with Sansa’s good friend Brienne, the tall blonde and the handsome businessman throwing her looks every now and again that she pretends not to notice. Brienne has been concerned about her since she had heard Robb and Margaery were getting hitched and planned to have Jon as their best man, but Sansa just puts on smiles for her whenever she asks.

Jaime had even been caring towards her when he had heard of the reason Jon and her had broken up, a care that she hates to admit she welcomes. He is as handsome as Jon is, with that aged sort of look that makes her heart flutter. She takes her eyes away from him though and lets them rest in her glass- deciding the attractiveness of alcohol is more inviting than that of men.

Time seems to pass in an awful blur of awkwardness- from talking to older relatives to trying to avoid Jon’s gaze all night Sansa feels as if she’s trapped in her own hell. Thank god for the open bar service or else she would have run screaming hours ago. Music has started to play somewhere but she doesn’t care to find out exactly, all Sansa does now is sit and drink slowly- the scotch burning the back of her throat.

It is close to midnight when she feels him standing beside her. He always had that way about him- that warm presence that made her feel suddenly aware of him. She feels that now, and she hates it. He still wears the same cologne she realises- the same cologne that clings to the t shirt she has kept in her apartment since they broke up- the one she cries into some nights when it all gets too much.

Maybe the scotch has made her braver- or crazier- but she dares herself to look at him, and when she does she regrets it instantly. Her heart had not been prepared to have him so close after so long and for him to look so beautiful. She feels like she did the first time she had ever saw him as the new guy in town- walking across the village green with his long black hair past his shoulders and his school tie loose around his neck. Her heart had stopped then, and it stops again now.

He’s different than he was then, even more different than he was a few months ago. He wears his hair in a leather tie at the back of his head, and he has a scar across his eye. Some part of her wants to ask him what happened, but then she remembers she’s not supposed to care anymore.

“Sansa” his voice shakes as he says her name, and gone is the smile he had on minutes before as he had stood with Sam, laughing and joking. Now he chews his bottom lip and wrings his hands on top of the bar.

“Jon” Sansa quips coldly, gripping her glass of half empty scotch and wishing somehow that it was acceptable to smash it over his head. Her eyes tear away from him- narrowed into slits. She can hear him sigh heavily from where he stands, and she imagines his broad shoulders drooping as he does.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you all night long” he tells her, and she scoffs a little as she raises her glass to her mouth. She feels as cold as Jaime Lannister’s sister.

“Really?” she can hear her voice coming from her mouth but it doesn’t sound like her own- it’s harsher than it’s ever been.

“Can we? Talk I mean?” he moves closer to her now, and she feels as if she’ll get sick with the feel of him close to her. Cheater, she wants to scream at him.

“Fine. Let’s talk” Sansa looks at him then with that icy Stark look in her eyes. It’s a mask she now wears, the icy facade an act that she has all but mastered these past few months when anyone brings him up. She hopes it’s working because she feels like a scared little girl underneath it all.

“Not here” his lips move so tantalisingly together, and she hates the fact that she is slightly tipsy and is allowing herself to gawk at him “smoke?” he offers as he inclines his head to the door.

Maybe she should have told him to fuck off, get lost, hit the high road but she finds herself slipping off the bar stool and following him out to the rooftop smoking area. Arya watches them dumbfoundedly as they leave, and Sansa bristles with the uncomfortable weight of her stare. The smoking area is empty, and is lit up by the large purple hued lights that hang from somewhere high. Jon pulls out two cigarettes from his packet, and uses the candle that is lighting on the table to start each one. His hand shakes a little as he hands one to Sansa.

They used to do this at every party or nightclub they went to- it had become some sort of a tradition even though both of them were non smokers during the day. It had been how they had shared their first kiss; last year at Arya and Gendry’s New Years Eve party. Sansa has become accustomed to smoking a pack a week now; sneakily smoking during her lunch break and doing it freely at home while crying over Grey’s reruns. She wishes she could tell him, as she takes the first drag, that she only smokes now because the taste reminds her of all those rooftop kisses they had shared.

She keeps tight lipped however, only allowing the cigarette to pass her lips.

“So um how have you been?” Jon asks her, and she sighs with her eyes closed, opening them again and choosing to stare at the skyline instead of at him.

How have I been? Desperate, hopeless, lonely. Missing you more and more each day.

“Fine” another drag of the cigarette- longer this time.

“Good” she can tell he’s awkward when he goes to run his hand through his hair but realises it’s tied up “so how’s work? The kids how are they?”

“Works good, the kids are good. I have first graders this year” Sansa explains briefly, her voice hoarse now from the tobacco. Jon just looks at her as he takes a drag, the amber ash receding at the top of the cigarette. He shuffles a little where he stands and Sansa slowly edges away from him.

“How’s your mother? I didn’t see her here tonight” Jon asks her, grey eyes locked with hers. She tears her gaze away from him then and angrily crumples her cigarette butt into the ash tray that lies on the wooden table.

“Why are you here, Jon?” Sansa quips at him, fuming just a little.

“Robb and Margaery invited me I’m supposed to be their -”

“No I meant why are you here? With me! Why did you ask me to come out here? You wanted to talk so talk!” her arms are crossed over her chest tightly and in a wild moment she’s brought back to the time when they were in school and he refused to give her a Pokemon card until she kissed him on the cheek. She had stamped her foot and crossed her arms like her mother did when she was cross with her father, but in the end she had given in and kissed him. She wonders if she would be so easily swayed now.

“I never properly apologised for what I did to you” his voice is so quiet that it’s almost lost in the din of the city below- almost washed away with the honking of taxis and the loudness of people in the bars across the street.

“Apologise? I don’t accept any apology you have to give me” her eyes are a warning for him not to go on, sharp and blue and cutting like glass but Jon just stands up straighter and continues on.

“Sansa please, I want you to know I am so unbelievably sorry for what I did to you”

“I know you’re incredibly sorry! I know you made a stupid mistake! But you have to want to forgive someone if you accept their apology and I don’t accept yours! I will never, as long as I live, forgive you for this” the buzz of the scotch and the iron mask she had on are long gone, and in their place they have left a quivering mess of a girl. She can feel the wetness on her cheeks when a gust of wind softly blows through the rooftop.

“Sansa I don’t want us to carry on like this for the rest of our lives! Please we’re meant to be together” his eyes are wide and wet, and her heart aches for him inside her chest. She wants to cry into him and tell him that she knows they’re meant for each other, that she wants to spend the rest of her life with him but she can’t allow herself to do that. Not right now at this stage.

“I trusted you! I put all my trust in you, and you broke it! After Joffrey I thought you’d understand how fragile I was but you didn’t think about that when you were fucking some other woman! You didn’t care that you were hurting me the very same way he did” her shoulder pushes into him harshly as she moves to get past him, but his strong hand wraps around her arm.

“I’m still not over you. I can’t move past this, Sansa. I hate myself for ruining this between us but I don’t know what came over me. We were just moving so fast, and I was scared of how quickly I was falling in love with you. You were talking about moving in with each other and I panicked!” Jon rushes, his words earning a small laugh from her.

“Oh so it’s my fault you boned someone else? Oh now I understand” she rips her arm from his grip and something in her head tells her she’ll probably be bruised if she looks.

“Sansa please I’m begging for you to forgive me. You’ve no idea how much I hate myself for hurting you” Jon cries, and in some mad moment Sansa actually thinks he’s about to bend down on his knees and really beg. But he stays standing where he is, broad shoulders hunched with regret.

“I know exactly how much, because I hate you. I hate you” she screams at him, not caring if the people on the street below hear them or if her entire family witnesses her screaming at her ex boyfriend “you’re the worst person I’ve ever met!”

He calls her name as she turns to leave but she does not answer him, just whirls around on him in a rush of flame coloured cheeks and fiery hair. They are so close right now that she can smell his cologne clearly- it’s heady and earthy just like him and she feels more intoxicated now than she had been while she had been downing scotch. She wants to kiss him madly, and the desire almost threatens to take her over and drive her insane because she knows he’d kiss her back. But she just balls her fists and lets the angry tears roll out of her eyes unapologetically.

“You know what the worst part is? I still want you, even now after all of this I still want you. The worst part is, I loved you anyway. I think I probably still love you, and I hate myself for that. I hate myself more than I hate you, isn’t that pathetic?” the tears that run down her mouth are salty and bitter, yet familiar to her- she’s cried so much these past few months without him.

“Come back to me please” his large and rough hands are around her soft face in an instant, his hard thumbs rubbing circles on her cheeks. She leans into his touch; the touch that she has craved for months and she despises her own weakness.

“I just……I need time, Jon” Sansa pulls away, her shaking hands frantically wiping her tears away. He looks blurry as she stares at him, a mass of black and grey through her tear filled eyes and the vision of him is gone in an instant as she turns and walks away.

She doesn’t look back once as she pushes her way out of the restaurant and doesn’t stop for Arya who calls after her over the music. She doesn’t turn back as she clambers into her car, her hands shaking as she puts the key in the ignition, her mind regretting all those drinks she had. Only when she is home does she break down like she has wanted to all night and she cries as she slips on Jon’s old shirt. She spends the night that way, outside on the balcony, wishing the cigarettes that she smokes are Jon’s lips.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jon snow x sansa stark #actuallyjonsa #jonsa fic

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camifnoodles · 3 years ago

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ooh top 5 candle scents? or top 5 stationary items if you want?

I'll do both bc why not!

Top 5 candle scents:

5. I forget the exact scent but my mom has one with an "autumn" scent and it's very nice

4. Pink grapefruit and prosecco

3. Pumpkin spice

2. Apple cinnamon my beloved

1. Pure cinnamon my even more beloved (I've sensed a pattern with most of these lolol)

Top 5 stationary items:

5. I gave it away, but this notebook where the paper was made with flowers. It was really cool!

4. A 15cm ruler with a peter rabbit theme. One side has a fun edge for cute bouncy lines

3. Folders are stationary right? I got this accordion folder from Legami in Italy that's really cute and helps me out with how it holds a lot of papers but stays thin bc

2. A heart-shaped eraser that has like a "pixel" style. The idea is that as you fix your mistakes, you smooth out the rough edges in the heart. I think it was from Taiwan!

1. These mechanical pencils I got from kinokuniya that have Barbie on them! Specifically the pink and purple ones with a butterfly gem on top. I think they're broken now ;w; so I'm hoping I can find replacements

#ask game #renoodle

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ofcloudsandstars · 4 years ago

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My Beltane

This was possibly one of the best celebrations I've had in a while. It was as perfect as it could be especially with the restrictions. I was so glad I got to see friends and celebrate High Spring to the fullest.

On the Eve most of my friends were free. It's nice cause it was more of my chaotic witch friends that love a good party so it was a great vibe for the eve. We met on Primrose Hill (it’s so beautiful in spring and has a fairy mound vibe) and first had a picnic. I made Gin infused with yuzu and honey and to be mixed with 3 mixers (just in case someone wanted nonalcoholic drinks there were options)- Rose and Rhubarb juice, Hawthorne and Violet iced tea and Elderflower Lemonade.

I also made Rose and Violet buttercream edible glitter cookies which my DUMBASS LEFT AT HOME!! I WANTED TO DIE!! but I also bought truffle chips, caterpillar gummy candies, these marshmallow cereal bars (like if rice krispie treats and magic marshmallows combined.) and these bloomed purple tender stem broccolis from the garden I volunteer at with tzatziki sauce.

My friends bought lovely things from foraged fried nettle crisps. (There was so much weed by the way so the endless snacks were amazing) and the nettle would do some sort of crazy hairy prickle dance in your mouth before you chewed it full. It was a maddening sensory experience. There were also these INCREDIBLE powdered homemade fresh donuts from a bakery filled with either white chocolate or jam and one friend cooked jasmine rice with noodles and kimchi which was very sustaining.

When everyone got there and got settled, I revealed I wrote everyone a love poem. Oh my goddd I cannot describe the energy of that moment but there was like so much love and exciting tension it was like being on mdma. After every poem I read (on these lil' cut out flower cards on construction paper) people were like cheering and toasting to the person. We were pouring prosecco with elderflower and toasting to everyone in the group after their poem was read. It was the most emotionally intense but beautiful ceremony (I strongly suggest everyone just write a love poem to their friends.)

After that we danced until the night. The weather spirits were being so kind cause it was supposed to rain all day on Friday and Saturday and there was even a big ominous raincloud over the hill but we did a lot of incense offerings and asked them if we can have some sunlight and they DELIVERED like it was so magical. The rain cloud moved on and the clouds parted and we danced under a deep rose sunset sky with lavender clouds. It even felt like it got warmer. As the sun set we did one last ritual which was burning wishes in my cauldron so I could later add it to the compost to fertilize the soil. I bought some minerals which change the color of the flame so it was like a fairy fire of green purple and blue. (Also I am only going to take the burnt pieces of paper and not the minerals to add to the earth.)

Anyway the Eve was EVERYTHING I wanted. The company, the magic, the food, the music, the dancing, the weed (omg we were dancing in a circle in a forest clearing and every so often a blunt would be passed to you from both sides I was like YES this is the fairy energy I need). We danced until the police kicked us out of the park but honestly it was ok cause it was super late.

On Beltane Day of course I was exhausted but I met up with some witch friends I haven't seen since 2019. We went to green park in an area that was so beautiful and reminded me of Alice in wonderland. There were still so many trees in bloom with white blossoms. When the wind blew we were showered in their confetti. I bought a bouquet of roses to make a protective circle around our picnic and we burned Jasmine and Rose incense. We just had a great chat and picnic lunch with spring onion tart my friend made and drank this love potion with rose hydrosol she made as well and did tarot. My other friend made these beautiful persian rose and pistachio cookies. We lit a love candle I bought in a magic shop in Amsterdam.

Afterwards I went home and made a small feast of roasted jasmine duck and the rest of the tenderstem broccoli with my floral buttercream cookies and hawthorn and violet iced tea. I burned the rest of the love candles I bought to the ceremonies and charged them with extra energy as they burned down. After I got so high though I just listened to music and forgot to watch Fern Gully which I am doing today lol.

If you have made it this far let me know how was your Beltane?? I ideally wish I could have my own place to have a ceremony then a big feast for everyone and then a dance party after. I feel like if I keep visualizing it it can happen haha.

#beltane #personal #long post #spring crossquarter #sabbat #witchcraft

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littledaydreamsofyou · 7 years ago

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What Better Reason?

To put things into perspective you had lived with a member of the Styles family for six months, had met her brother Harry numerous times, actually had his number in your phone from when he had arranged a surprise birthday bash for his sister, been around the whole Styles clan on the odd occasion and yet you still could never not get butterflies upon the first sight of the younger, yet taller Styles sibling. And right now, as you were looking through the peephole at the handsome young man scratching the back of his neck, the butterflies were there as was the increased heart rate and the highly possible flushed cheeks.

With one deep breath you opened the door a little more force than usual, clearly your nerves gave you added strength.

“Hey! Harry, what are you doing here?”

“Good Evening” he kissed your cheek on his way past you to enter your shared flat, “thought I would swing by and see you seen as though I didn’t get to see you in Manchester”

You had been at Harry’s hometown concert a couple of nights previous with a friend from back home. You’d had the tickets for months, even before you’d moved to London and had met Harry by way of his sister.

“Well thats a bit of a fib cause you definitely did see me”

“Should’ve come to the Arena earlier you know, my own bloody mother got to spend more time with you than I did by all accounts” Harry challenged you as he folded his arms, leaning back on the kitchen counter.

The whole concert had gone by in a bit of a blur if you were honest, you’re friend back home knew of your acquaintance in Harry but was hit full force with it on Monday night. As you arrived you’d made your way to the box where close family friends were with Anne for the show. She’d made you promise to stop by and a have quick glass of Prosecco before the show and as ever she was the hostess with the mostess, having some nibbles for you also and a goody bag with t-shirt and programme for the show inside for both of you.

It was when you got to your seats that things out of the ordinary started happening as you’d barely warmed your seat up ahead of the support act before a man you vaguely recognised approached you very inconspicuously whispering in your ear for you and your pal to see Harry before the show. Quickly you weighed the pros and cons for going with him but ultimately decided that you didn’t want to hurt Harry’s feelings by not going.

“Here she is” you couldn’t help but smile at Harry’s beaming expression as he placed his mug down and made his way over to greet you with a hug.

“Hi H, this is my friend Rachel from home”

Your two friends exchanged pleasantries as you took in the backstage scenes but ultimately focusing on Harry’s outfit for the show tonight.

“Is it pink or red?” you asked running you hand down the material covering his arm.

“Not too sure to be honest, but does it suit me?”, “As fetching as ever Harry” you giggled as he did a flamboyant twill straightening up with his best Zoolander.

Truth be told he could make your knees weak wearing a bin bag and when it was announced that the support act was taking to stage in 10 minutes, you excused yourself not wanting to miss any part of the show. Harry had asked you to stay and then had further offered VIP passes for you to go side stage whenever you wanted during the show, bot of which you turned down wanting to experience everything with Rachel in the thick of the crowd.

A girl with a polaroid camera was wondering backstage and had snapped a picture of the three of you as you wished Harry good luck, with Harry requesting one with yourself throwing his arm around your shoulders.

Getting back to your seats with no fuss, the concert had started and it wasn’t until part way during his set that you saw Harry close up again. He stopped to say a hello and asked if you were enjoying yourself on the way to the B-Stage, much to the delight of the girls around you who got the opportunity to touch their idol and take photos of his lovely face…

“You’re still coming on Thursday, right?” Harry asked pulling yourself out of your memory

“Uh, yeah I believe so your mum and Gem have been messaging me about it”, a group chat had started a couple of weeks ago and arrangements had all been made. “Sure you don’t want to come tomorrow night too?”

“I can’t, think I’ll be at work late and I just don’t want to be rushing around”, “You could always come for the last part?”

Harry had never asked you to be at his shows in the past and though you had gotten closer since spending time with all the family during Christmas and New Year, it still felt a little strange for him to be requesting your presence.

“Harry, I really don’t think….”, “Here I’ll leave these for you and if you can make it that would be great”

He placed an envelope on the kitchen counter and wished you goodnight with a hug that left his scent on your t-shirt.

Looking through the contents after the door had closed behind him you pulled out tickets to the show, VIP Family pass and the polaroid from Manchester with the words until next time written on the white boarder.

“Well, bumping into International Popstar Heartthrob Sensation Harry Styles is a sure cure for having a shit day at work”

“Hey Han, want a cuppa?” your fairly new roommate dropped her bag to the floor and was in the process of taking her coat off.

You’d been flat sharing with Hannah since January after Gemma moved in with Mike and she was definitely more used to seeing Harry than you were despite only ever seeing him a handful of times.

“That would be great, I picked up some custard tarts if you fancy one”

“So I haven’t seen you since you got back home, tell me all about it”, you both got settled onto the sofa as you recalled tales of your trip to Manchester.

Wednesday the 11th April turned into the longest day in living history for you as you caught up with work that you had missed after having an extra two days off at the beginning of the week and it didn’t help that every half hour you had an internal battle with yourself to just call it a day and get your arse to the O2 with Hannah for a fun night.

Finally the little voice of temptation in your head quietened down and it wasn’t until you were on your way home scrolling through your Twitter feed that you saw what you had missed out on.

Congrats on your first night at the O2, was that you or Prince Charming dressed as a Matador on stage?

It wasn’t until your mid-morning coffee break that you got a response from Harry, a simple purple suit dancing man emoji and when you text hime back he called.

“Well hello there” you answered taking a sip from your vanilla latte, “Good morning, missed you last night”

“You missed me? Don’t be silly H”

“Not being silly, just being honest is all” you don’t know what killed you more, the words he was saying or his voice still gravely and laced with sleep.

“Well it won’t be long, think we’re getting to the O2 for about four. I’m finishing work early at getting to Gemma’s about three”, “Yeah mum’s here she said that she can pick you up if you want?”

You agreed to let Anne pick you up from work a little after lunchtime to take you over to Gemma’s where you were all freshening up before the concert.

“So what have you done to not let my son stop talking about you?”

“Sorry…. ?” Anne’s question hit you off guard as you looked out of the car window at the London scenery.

“Well since I got here yesterday all Harry’s done is mention that you wouldn’t be there last night, how much he was looking forward to seeing you tonight, he seems rather interested in your whereabouts”

“I’m not too sure why, I haven’t seen him in ages since he’s been busy playing to thousands on a nightly basis”

“I think that’s the point love” Anne turned to look at me briefly with a knowing face that only a mother could possess. “He seems to be getting over everything that happened with Camille”

“What happened with Camille?” as far as I was aware it was a long distance casual thing according to Gemma who had divulged the minor details of her brothers dating life to me one drunken evening between Christmas and New Year.

“Not for you to worry about darling, just have a good night tonight with him”, “With everyone” I corrected. “If you say so sweetheart”.

The two Styles women and I arrived at the O2 right on schedule and Harry was there to greet us as we entered the back corridor. I watched as he said hello to his mother and sister, he was in all black his own merchandise on his top half and white socks covering his feet, and realised in that moment he was gorgeous both in looks but also how he treated those he cared about.

He took a step towards me as I took a deep breath to prepare myself, for what I am not sure, but when he put his arms around me in a warm cuddle and told me how nice it was to see me in my ear my whole body relaxed and was on edge at the same time.

I caught Anne watching our interaction whilst Gemma was nowhere to be seen and as soon as the moment had started it was over and I couldn’t help but want more.

Throughout the afternoon as we were included in Harry’s and the bands preparations I found myself drifting away in my own little world, allowing myself to think of Harry in a way that I seldom allowed myself to in the past. Found myself watching intently on how he moved, how his lips moved when he spoke and his facial expressions and the vein that appeared in his neck when he sang during soundcheck. Harry definitely was a specimen of human nature and I am sure millions of others would agree that his handsomeness was undeniable, but it was even more so now for me.

With me being wrapped up in my thoughts for the majority of the time, I had kept a little distance from Harry and it had actually began to worry me how quickly I had suddenly been hit the realisation that I actually liked Harry. I mean I had always liked him, I had been a fan before I knew him and had liked the idea of him from afar, but now that I knew him personally it felt different and I wasn’t too sure what to do about it.

Harry had taken himself off to his dressing room a little after six with the tour stylist I presumed, to get himself ready for the show and just by coincidence when I was on my way back from the toilet his door was open again and he called my name.

“You look like Tarzan”

“Be my Jane?”, did I hear him right, “What?”

“Oh come on, you heard me” the cheeky lopsided smile made an appearance on his face

“Bloody hell Harry did you have to hunt that before you wore it?” Gemma came through to his dressing room with a beer in each hand, passing one to me whilst taking the piss out of her brother.

“You’re not the only one in this family that can wear leopard print sister”, “Clearly not baby brother can I touch it?”, “Definitely not”.

Mabel had been called to stage for her opening performance and Harry’s dressing room was buzzing, the band were all in high spirits and there were several guests backstage all of whom were enjoying themselves and patiently waiting, hoping, for a chance to have a small moment with Harry and a picture to remember it by.

As I stood with Anne, I could see how immensely proud of hm she was and I couldn’t help but let my thoughts drift again. Had he always looked this good? I decided that he definitely always had but because of my previous relationships, along with Harrys, and not actually knowing him all that well his potential had been overlooked somehow.

“He looks so happy” I observed aloud, “Yeah like the cat that got the cream. Are you ladies ready to go take our seats?” Gemma stood in front of us blocking our view of the man of the hour parading around in his leopard suit.

Even though I had seen the exact same show three night ago, it was like I was seeing it again for the first time. He sounded so good and his performance was flawless and it was made even more special that I got to experience this with his mum and sister, but that in itself was a whole different experience. They had both been asked for a couple of pictures here and there and other concert goers were looking in their direction to take note of their reactions to certain songs and things he said, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of Harry.

My eyes stayed glued to him until the end of the show and then it was all a blur as Harry, his immediate team including Jeff and Glenne, his family and I scrambled to awaiting cars to take all of us back to Harry’s London home.

As we all sat around in his kitchen living room area catching up over time spent apart, tales of Harry Styles: Live on Tour so far, and general life I noticed the time and sent for an Uber to take me home for the night. I explained that I had work in the morning and that if everyone was still in London that maybe I could catch up with them at lunchtime or when I finished at the office.

Harry walked me out to the gates at the end of his driveway stopping to turn and hold my hand as we reached the side gate.

“These past couple of weeks have been a complete whirlwind and it’s been amazing, I just feel like it’s going to taste a bit sour remembering it if I don’t tell you how pretty you look right now and how I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how you make me feel since I saw you with me backstage on Monday”

“But Harry, you’ve never even …. I never realised…. I just…”

“No I know and I don’t think I realised until Manchester when I couldn’t think of anything other than you would be there and I haven’t felt like that in a long time,” “But…”, “and I know that the timing could be better but I’m going away for a while and I couldn’t leave without telling you that”

“Thank you…”, “You’re welcome. Wow, that turned very typically British rather quick”

“I’m sorry, look I uh…. I’ve had an amazing day today and that’s been because of you and uh, you look really pretty too. Oh god…” I couldn’t look at him but even in the darkness of the night I am sure you could see my burning cheeks from the moon.

“Well, thank you. What are you doing this weekend?” Harry asked squeezing my hand to bring my attention unwillingly to his face.

“Nothing I don’t think, why?”, “Come to Glasgow with me, we can talk more there” Harry offered and in that moment I realised that I would always struggle with not agreeing to do anything that he suggested.

“I haven’t been to Scotland in a while ….”

“What better reason do you have then?”, “You”.

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfction #Harry Styles Blurb #Harry Writing #hHarry Styles Imagine #harrystylesblurb #harrystyleswriting #harrystylesimagine #1dff

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