#fiona is his girlfriend (the bun next to him) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

solarwriting · 4 years ago

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guns and gifts

carl gallagher x fem!reader

request: Hey! I hope I can send you a request for Karl Gallagher of Shameless. Maybe Karl and y / n were a couple before jail, and after leaving jail he came to her to ask her for forgiveness. y / n doesn't forgive him and he starts giving her gifts and apologizing every day. Then everything is at your discretion. Happy ending please💛 from @powerpuffluuvv

genere: fluff + angst

word count: 2.1k

warnings: swearing, ooc carl

posted on april 18, 2021

puppy love. thirteen year-olds holding hands and sharing stolen kisses. it was a sweet relationship that could’ve grown and matured with the two teens as they did. instead carl found himself a job on the corner and when he got caught y/n was done. fiona tried to get through to the boy, asking him to apologize but he brushed her off.

“can i please just talk to him? maybe he’ll listen to me.” y/n pleaded with the lawyer.

fiona stepped in, “it wouldn’t hurt to try it.”

“five minutes.” the lawyer relented.

y/n thanked him and rushed into the room where he sat. he squinted at her through the glasses fiona gave him. “i’m not fuckin’ sorry. i wish i was smarter about it. i wouldn’t have used chuckie as a mule.”

“you know what. if you don’t tell that judge you’re fucking sorry and that you’ve learned from your mistakes i will never speak to you again.” y/n exited the room quickly letting the ultimatum hang in the air as the door slammed behind her.

during the hearing her eyes were trained on the back of his head, hoping she could somehow will him to do the right thing. she kept her arms crossed as she leaned back. kev and v were sat next to her, waiting anxiously to see what he’d say.

“i’m going to make juvie my bitch.” as soon as he said those words, y/n sighed, getting up from her seat, shouldering her back and slipping out of the courtroom as they hauled carl away. he caught her eye before she left, she froze for a moment before shaking her head and making her exit.

time passed and she still spent time with the rest of the gallaghers, she lived across the street so it would have been hard not too. she helped take care of liam when needed and she got a job at patsy’s with fiona’s help.

the day carl came back had been a surprise for everyone, y/n was helping fiona with making dinner after a shift at patsy’s. the front door had slammed shut and, thinking it was debbie, fiona asked if she got a message about hamburger buns. y/n’s eyes shot up when a much deeper voice responded, “nah, it’s just me.”

excited, fiona rushed towards the boy, wrapping him up in a hug. hugging back, he looked up throwing a wave to y/n who was rooted in place, “hey, y/n.”

snapping herself back into reality she lurched forward wiping her hands and grabbing her things, pulling her bag over her shoulder and gripping her keys tightly she looked back at the boy as fiona fussed over his new appearance. “fuck you, carl.” she spat, slamming the back door shut behind her.

y/n managed to avoid carl at school the next day, he was too busy with “his boy” nick and his new white boy carl personality and selling illegal weapons in the bathrooms to bother her anyways. she rushed to patsy’s as soon as school ended and began her shift.

she spent the afternoon rushing from table to table, taking orders, passing out food, and pouring coffee. she was pouring coffee for a couple sitting near the front door when the bell twinkled, signaling a new customer.

her back turned to the door and her focus pointed and the coffee she was pouring she greeted the customer quickly, “take a seat anywhere and i’ll be right with you darling.” she smiled at the couple before turning around, finding herself face to face with white boy carl himself. “get the fuck out.”

y/n rushed away from him, pouring coffee for a man sat at the counter. carl followed, “please just talk to me, y/n.”

“she doesn’t want to talk to you, man.” the customer spoke up as y/n placed the coffee pot on the burner.

“what the fuck did you just say to me?” carl asked the man.

he stood up, “i told you she doesn’t want to talk. so leave.”

y/n stepped in before a physical altercation broke out, “thank so much, sir, but i can fight my own battles.” she pushed carl towards the door, “out.” she kept pushing him despite his protests, “get the fuck out. go.”

the door slammed behind them, and carl began to speak, “no, you’re going to shut your fucking mouth and listen. i don’t want to listen to you. i don’t want to talk to you. and i don’t even want to see you but that last one might be a little fucking impossible since we’re neighbors and i work with your sister so i’m going to be civil towards you but i will only acknowledge your existence when it is absolutely necessary. clear?”

carl began to protest but y/n cut him off, “are we fucking clear?” carl grumbled an agreement and y/n sighed, “good, now get the fuck out if here. i have to go back to work.”

y/n rushed back into the diner, throwing herself back into work. hoping she looked busy enough to keep the nosy man from before to leave her alone, she poured more coffee, took orders, passed out plates. until her shift ended and she could finally take the l back home.

the next run in with carl happened two days later, she was walking home from school, thankful for the day off from work when carl and nick pulled up on a bike. “y/n! wait!”

sighing, y/n whipped around, “i thought i told you i didn’t want to talk to you.”

“i have something for you.” carl explained as he got closer, y/n ignored him and started walking again, the bike quickly catching up with her. “here.”

y/n scoffed, eyeing the bag, “whatever it is i don’t want it.”

“it’s a book, debbie told me you wanted to read it.”

y/n sped up, “no thanks, already read it.” she didn’t care what book it was, she didn’t want anything from him. she took this moment to cross the street, the passing cars making it difficult for the boys on the bike to follow.

she entered the gallagher house hoping carl would be too busy to come home for a few hours while she watched liam. “i get off at nine, if anyone else comes home you’re welcome to leave but i plan on bringing something back for dinner if you want to stick around for that.”

“of course i’ll stay. me and liam are going to have a great time. isn’t that right liam?” y/n asked the toddler who nodded enthusiastically. fiona thanked her and rushed out the door.

y/n put on a movie, which liam fell asleep watching about thirty minutes in. y/n got up and stretched when the movie ended, adjusting the blanket she threw over liam when he fell asleep. she walked in the kitchen, stiff from sitting for so long. she pulled out a can of pop from the fridge and leaned her back against the fridge, using to stretch her body more.

the door swung open and carl walked in, “good you’re hear, i have something else for you.”

“whatever it is, i don’t want it.” y/n sighed into her drink.

“it’s a necklace, here.” he opened the velvet box to show her an expensive looking necklace.

she turned away from him, “no thanks.” walking back into the living room. “go somewhere else please, i have to watch liam.”

carl sighed before exiting the house with nick, who had been hanging back by the door during the exchange. he nodded to nick and the two rolled out to go do god knows what.

that night fiona came home with food, the entire gallagher clan plus kev and v enjoyed. there were enough people that y/n managed to avoid speaking to carl the entire evening. every time he tried to speak to her she’d find someone to talk to, she talked lip about something she had to do for school, ian told her about trevor, and her and debbie talked about anything.

v even pointed out the strange behavior when carl was left looking slightly dejected to fiona, who just shrugged in response.

“thank you fiona, goodnight everyone.” y/n called as she stepped out the back door. she crossed the street quickly and made it home, which as usual was empty, the rest of her family nowhere to be found.

she sighed, grabbing a beer from the fridge and kicking of her shoes as soon as she made it to her room. she threw herself back on her bed yelping when she collided with something hard. she jumped up only to see the jewelry box and book carl had bought her. she set her beer down and pulled the box open, smiling at the necklace. it was gold, with a small tear shaped pendant that held some sort of crystal or diamond.

she set the box next to her beer, which she grabbed and took sip of as she grabbed the book. it was actually something she’d been wanting, she rolled her eyes before opening it to the first page.

the next fee days followed a similar pattern, carl would stop her at school and work and even his own house to offer her gifts, which she would refuse, which would always end up on her bed at the end of the day. on a particularly rough day, y/n had enough. she was walking home from school, carl (who was alone this time) behind her, like clockwork offering another gift.

“carl, please just leave me alone. i don’t have the energy to deal with you.” y/n said not stopping. carl made a comment and y/n snapped, “god i’m not going to forgive you because you chose to go to juvie. you could have just apologized and gotten parole but that didn’t happen. and i’m not going to be your girlfriend again because i don’t even know who you are any more, this thug personality doesn’t look good on you.” y/n sighed rushing away before he could answer.

she was suddenly thankful for the day off, deciding to spend it all alone at home. it was a friday and her weekend was also free so she spent the next few days home alone. her family was gone of course, they only only seemed to show up once a month just to leave again the same day.

sunday evening y/n laid in the couch watching what was on tv when there was a knock on the door. y/n groaned, getting up to answer it freezing when carl was revealed on the other side. he looked small, he was curled into himself and he looked sad. his braids were out, soft curls in the place. “hey, y/n.” he said softly. y/n wordlessly moved out of the way to let him in.

“i’m done. no more sell drugs, guns, anything. something happened, with nick and i don’t want that to be my life anymore.” his voice cracked and y/n instinctively wrapped him into a hug, squeezing protectively. he cried into her shoulder, holding her tightly, scared to let her go.

“hey,” y/n spoke softly, running her fingers through his hair, “you’re okay. i got you.” once carl calmed down, he pulled away but y/n held onto him, hands on his face.

“i really miss you y/n. and i know i was awful before but all i want to do is be with you. i love you.” he sighed, his hands holding her wrists.

y/n pulled him closer, “i love you, too, idiot.” carl gave her a lopsided smiled before surging forward to connect their lips in a hot kiss. y/n stumbled backwards before backing into the wall behind her. carl bit on her lip softly causing her breath to catch in her throat. she tugged on his hair and he squeezed her hips. she pulled away for breath, pressing her forehead to his, “my room?” breathless carl nodded pressing a quick kiss to her lips before they rushed to her room.

the next morning the front door slammed opened, “y/n! i’m going to kill fiona!” debbie stormed through the house bursting into y/n’s room where she was laying next to a topless carl, wearing only his t-shirt, “oh my god! ew!” debbie shielded her eyes from the sight before her.

“hey, debs.” y/n mumbled, sheepishly.

debbie groaned, “just get dressed, we have school.”

#carl gallagher imagine #carl gallagher #shameless x reader #shameless fanfiction #shameless imagine #shameless #lip gallagher #fiona gallagher #debbie gallagher #ian gallagher #kev ball #veronica ball #veronica fisher #2k words

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katfett · 4 years ago

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ROXANNE (MOD!HVITSERK X OFC)

A/N: Will have multiple parts. Essentially Vikings meets Sons of Anarchy. This just happened when I was trying to write to my other stuff.

HAVEN’T TAGGED ANYONE, IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED TO A TAG-LIST, HOLLA AT ME.

Summary: Roxanne gets stood up at the altar, instead of a reception, her girlfriends take her bar hopping for beers, dancing and singing. She got more than she bargained for in the form of Hvitserk when they wind up in the bar of Lothbrok Auto, the clubhouse of the Vikings MC Mother Charter.

Warnings: Smut.

Tag List: @bloooferladyy

Music: There is a playlist I listened to while I wrote this, from the obvious ones to some weird ones just cause they help me focus.

Playlist found here.

CATCH UP: PART TWO PART THREE

***

PART I

Bar hopping hadn’t exactly been on her to do list. Heck, her to do list today consisted of getting married. It hadn’t been checked off. Roxanne had been embarrassed when she realized he had not shown up. Cold feet had been the excuse from his family. Yeah right.

“Come on Roxy, no dwelling on it,” Tatiana said, taking hold of Roxanne’s elbow. Her friend had been quick to act earlier when they had realized she wasn’t getting hitched. Her bridesmaids had promised her a night of bar hopping and karaoke.

That’s where Roxanne found herself, in some bar in a small country town, about to be dragged onto the stage to sing some terrible pop song. She wasn’t nearly as drunk as she needed to be for this. Stage fright was such a bitch.

“Can we just go do shots at the bar?” Roxanne pleaded, trying to turn and book it to the bar. Tatiana wouldn’t let her go and she whined as Sally helped to turn her. Fiona helped them drag her up onto the stage, even as Roxanne protested the entire way. It probably looked hilarious to the people watching.

***

Hvitserk watched as Ivar lined up his shot. They were playing pool in the back, Ubbe was locked in a kiss with Torvi as Sigurd watched the game. He’d opted out, disliking the way Ivar always managed to beat him. Hvitserk turned and motioned for a sweet butt to hand him his beer. She did so. Hvitserk took in the main floor of the bar.

Ragnar’s place hadn’t changed much over the years, Bjorn had seen to that. Being born to the founding member of the Vikings MC had its perks. They were patched young; it was the only life they knew, and they embraced it wholeheartedly. It gave them time like this, where most of the other patched members kept their distance.

It was a little more packed than usual, they’d been celebrating Floki’s release and return to the fold so there were people mixed in with the club he didn’t know. The bar operated like any other, until you passed the bathrooms. The back corridor into the members rooms beyond was off limits to non-club folk. There usually wasn’t an issue with Whitehair usually acting as a bouncer back there.

He chugged most of his beer as he watched the stage, the karaoke thing had been his mother’s idea. It’d been dead most of the night, but he quirked an eyebrow as he watched three women pull another up onto the stage. They weren’t sweet butts, he knew them all, by name and cup size. He smirked as he watched the three brunettes shove a microphone into the blonde’s hand as they kept her in place.

“Hvitserk,” Ivar called, signaling it was his turn but Hvitserk waved him off, leaning against the railing that separated the pool tables from the main floor. He settled in, nodding as the sweet butt switched out his empty bottle for another one.

This was going to be good.

***

Roxanne growled at her friends. They were the best, and the worst. The microphone in her hands was awkward, she could just drop it, but she realized that would likely turn more attention on them. Her scrambling to get off the stage likely had been a sight. Tatiana had body blocked her, wrapping an arm around her waist, and dragging her back.

The three of them were pointing to the machine where the songs to select from were resting. Riley rolled her eyes. She looked at the songs - Teenage Dream by Katy Perry, fuck nope. I want it that way by backstreet boys, eh, fun but this bar didn’t seem like it would enjoy that. Her eyes scrolled across the next few songs and then her eyes lit up. Oh, that one.

Wild Thing by Tone Loc.

She smirked, if they were going to make her do this, she was going to get them back. Tatiana, who had a sixth sense for when Roxanne was going to fuck with their plans, reached out and hit a different song. Apparently, she’d been taking too long.

Gaping, offended and dramatic as fuck when drunk, Roxanne slapped her hand looking at her incredulously. The beat to Rihanna’s Rude Boy kicked in and Roxanne couldn’t help herself, her hips started moving with the beat. She was going to kill Tati for this. Her friends loved this song, Roxanne loved booty shaking to this song. Not singing it.

Tati wrapped herself around Roxanne and kissed her cheek before forcing her to move with her and Roxanne almost blushed at the whistles and catcalls as they moved in tandem. They had danced many a times to this. Grinding against one another wasn’t the embarrassing part, they had an audience. A bar full of guys in leather.

***

Hvitserk was grinning as he watched the four women grinding and singing, albeit a little terribly, to the song. This was far more entertaining than he’d thought. The blonde and one of the brunettes were grinding against one another. They got lost in the song, not even singing as they nearly put on a whole other show for the boys. The club members were cheering the four on. Hvitserk glanced across at Sigurd.

“Hey bro, you got the music lined up?” When Sigurd frowned at him, Hvitserk pointed to the four on the karaoke stage. “Who needs strippers when you can have drunk city girls.”

Sigurd laughed. Ivar rolled his eyes from where he was engaged in a conversation with Ubbe. “I think I can manage something.”

***

Okay, Roxanne had to admit she was having a blast. The song ended and so did the dancing - to a loud chorus of boos. Instead of the next karaoke song starting up though a heavy rock song filled the bar.

Roxanne grinned at the familiar beat. She loved this song, especially since it shared her name. Fuck it, it was meant to be her wedding night, she would’ve been having her first dance right about now. May as well dance like the single woman she was.

***

Hvitserk was hypnotized. He had been watching the blonde bump and grind to every stripper song he could pump Sigurd to play. She was shorter than her friends, her denim shorts fitting snugly, showing off the curve of her ass as she swung her hips. Her tank top was gaping at the sides, revealing a white lace bra. Long curly hair was damp and frizzy. Hvitserk wanted to bury his fingers into it as he rode her. The sweet butt at his side had gotten bored when he didn’t show her a hint of leaving with her to his rooms in back and turned her attention to Sigurd, joining him by the controls for the music.

Hvitserk finished off the last of his beer as the girls finally tired and started to climb from their stage. A few of the boys helped them down.

Hvitserk ducked under the railing, setting his empty bottle down and running a hand across his jaw as he watched the petite blonde move through the boys heading for the bar looking like she was on a mission. He grinned, perfect.

***

Roxanne leaned over the bar, the woman behind it nodded at her as she asked for water. She was buzzing. The combination of drinking and dancing was doing all the right things to make her happy.

“Hey Hvit,” the bartender greeted with a smile and Roxanne’s brows furrowed. The woman was looking behind her. Turning, Roxanne was taken back by the man standing incredibly close. Hot damn. He was a good head or so taller than her; he was fair, a little bit of stubble and a mop of dirty blonde hair braided back from his face, tied into a man bun at the back and the sides shaved. He had tattoos covering his neck and arms. He was staring at her and Roxanne was all too aware of his deep blue green eyes. It was intense. She didn’t know it was possible in real life for someone to fuck you with their eyes, but he seemed to be doing just that and Roxanne felt a shiver creep down her spine.

Hello hunky biker boy.

The telltale leather vest over his white shirt gave him away. Roxanne smiled at him, not saying a word, and turned back to grab the bottle of water on the bar. If her dancing hadn’t dehydrated her, he certainly had.

“You sure like to grind these hips.”

Another shiver crept along her as he spoke, his deep, raspy voice accented and showing through. It was the hand resting on said hips of Roxanne’s that got her attention; strong fingers dug gently into her hip as the other moved so he could lean against the bar and by default her, given she was standing between them.

“Glad you enjoyed the show,” she said and managed to dislodge him by grabbing her water and ducking under his arm. Tati and the girls were across the sea of bodies.

“Wanna give me a private one?”

Roxanne actually laughed as she took a sip, spraying water back into her bottle at the terrible pick-up line. She glanced at him over her shoulder. He was leaning casually against the bar, watching her. “You wouldn’t be able to keep up.”

The challenge hung between them and the biker disarmed her by gracing her with a smile that was simultaneously cheeky and devilish. How did someone look so cute and dangerous at the same time?

“I think you’ll scream for me first,” he said calmly. Roxanne blushed; people could hear them. The bartender was smiling, trying to appear busy as some of the men around them laughed. She turned, determined to ignore the biker, and ducked into the sea of bodies. She didn’t get far. An arm wrapped around her elbow and she nearly dropped her drink only a hand caught it and then she was pulled back against a warm body.

He didn’t let go of her hand holding the water as he crowded behind her, grinding a little against her ass. Roxanne licked her lips. This was so not how she pictured tonight going.

“Come on, I dare you,” he whispered into her ear.

Hvitserk could feel the tremble in her hand as he spoke. He was loving every second of this. He’d been determined to, at the least get her name, and maybe a quickie in the bathroom but the challenge hanging between them made him want more. He could drag this out.

“I think I’m super drunk,” she mumbled, he grinned having only just caught it.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, his free hand dropping to her waist, slipping beneath her tank. Her skin was warm to touch, and so soft.

“Cause there is no way a hot biker is offering to fuck me senseless the same day I get stood up at the altar.”

He paused and glanced down at her with a quirked eyebrow as she turned her head to look at him a little. He could see the flush deepen in her cheeks. She was serious. He grinned and pried the water from her hand, someone took it from him, and he brought his hand up to tip her chin towards him.

“You got lucky, you didn’t marry an idiot then,” he muttered and then kissed her.

Roxanne whimpered into the kiss. Holy jeez. Her knees were weak from a kiss. She was drunk, very drunk apparently. Not enough to be blackout and not understand what was happening but with her lowered inhibitions she gave in far easier than rational, sober Roxanne would. Heck, sober Roxanne wouldn’t have even been here. His fingers ghosted along her jaw, the hand touching her bare skin at the waist of her shorts was drawing lazy circles across her flesh. The kiss itself was slow.

He didn’t seem to be in a hurry and Roxanne leaned into the kiss. His lips were soft, full, and tasted sweet. Her fingers curled into his leather vest just behind her hip. His hips ground into her, and Roxanne was sure that any man like this shouldn’t exist. His fingers massaged her neck and she moaned, moving in slow motion with him to the music pounding through the speakers. If this wasn’t get you in the mood to fuck music, Roxanne didn’t know what was.

She almost whined as his mouth broke away from hers, his eyes assessing her intently in the dim light.

“Please tell me there is a room somewhere,” she said. He grinned and nodded, loosening himself from her so he could steer her towards the bathroom hallway. Roxanne wasn’t a prude but the idea of fucking in a toilet stall was, well it wasn’t exactly what she had in mind.

He didn’t turn into the bathrooms though, instead he led her deeper through the hall. Coming to a door with a large biker guarding it, Roxanne was surprised when the older man simply moved to the side without a word, just ducking his head in a nod as the biker guided her into another dimly lit corridor.

The door shut behind them and the music became a distant pound. He had his hand joined with hers and a little worried now they were alone, she clutched at it and stepped in close to him, letting him guide her through the hall, past a few rooms. One door was ajar, and Roxanne saw a man with a woman tied up in the strangest position.

At the end of the hall, he turned left to a door. He let go of her hand as he fished into the back pocket of his baggy blue jeans. Roxanne was really doing this. Tati hadn’t stopped her, and why the fuck would she? It was Roxanne’s night to just do whatever the heck she wanted, right?

The soft click of the lock in the silence brought her back to the moment and she glanced up as he looked at her over his shoulder. He was broad compare to her; he was also the total opposite to what she was usually attracted to. Maybe that was why drunk, heartbroken Roxanne was so keen to strip off and let him fuck her.

The door opened and he stepped to the side and motioned for her to step inside. Roxanne let out a soft breath and stepped through the doorway.

The room had a large bed against the opposite wall, the sheets were all messy. A few pieces of furniture were scattered about. A large flag of what she assumed was their biker iconography hung above the head of the bed. She was a little surprised when she noticed that the ceiling had a mirror over the bed. Interesting.

Roxanne turned to face the biker. She hadn’t even got his name. She assumed Hvit was a nickname, they usually gave themselves nicknames, right? He was leaning against the now shut door, tossing the keys onto the chest of drawers to his right.

“I’m Roxanne, by the way,” she said.

He grinned; he really needed to stop doing that. It was enough to make her belly giddy. “Like the song. Hvitserk.”

She nodded, softly testing his name out on her tongue. They stood in a heavy silence, the only sound the bass reverberating from the bar.

“So-“ she started, tapping the sides of her thighs.

“You’ve never done this.”

Roxanne paused, pursing her lips, and looked at the floor, looking at him from beneath her lashes. “A one night stand? No.”

He was smiling and suddenly all her drunken courage seeped out of her as she realized he wasn’t nearly as drunk as she was. “Take off your shirt.”

Roxanne blushed, the tank didn’t really cover much, she used it at the beach a lot, but she’d been hot in the summer night and just thrown it on as Tati had pushed her out the door of the hotel room.

She crossed her arms over and grabbed the ends. He didn’t move, just watched her. This was far more intense than if they were just sloppily going at each other. She tugged the tank up, sliding out of it and looking around for somewhere to toss it. There was a chair nearby. She chucked it over the back of it, then glanced at him.

For a moment she was kind of glad she hadn’t stripped off the white bra and underwear that matched because it made her boobs look incredible and she knew it.

***

Hvitserk had asked for a private show but his fingers itched to touch. Usually, he’d be balls deep in a sweet butt already. The dark grey tank was pulled off and he smirked. The white bra was expensive, this was what her husband would’ve been looking at if the fool hadn’t left her at the altar.

Her tanned skin stood out across the delicate white. He really wanted to touch.

Pushing himself off the door, Hvitserk shrugged out of his kutte and draped it over the back of the chair with her tank. She had her hands buried in the back pockets of her shorts as she watched him. She looked like an angel and he was about to make her fall.

***

Roxanne could feel her heart racing in her chest as Hvitserk laid his leather across the chair, he was careful with it. She smiled at the way he handled something so simple with such care.

“Come here.”

The soft order was direct and straight forward. Roxanne closed the distance between them and stood toe to toe with him. His hands sunk into her curls and she moaned softly as his fingers kneaded her head for a second. His mouth crushed hers, the slow kiss out in the bar was gone. He pulled her in close, holding her captive as he devoured her mouth, teeth biting at her lower lip.

Roxanne moaned into the kiss; it was incredible. When Mike had kissed her, it was usually sloppy. Her fingers found the end of his shirt and she dragged it up his belly, slipping her hands underneath. Hot, hard abs met her fingers, and she traced the sculpted six pack up to his pecs. One of his arms dropped to encircle her waist and drag her completely against him, crushing her hands between them as he slid his tongue into her mouth. Roxanne’s knees buckled as his tongue found hers. Jeez, this man knew exactly what he was doing with his mouth.

She dug her nails into his chest beneath his shirt, grinning as he hissed.

He pulled back just enough to reach over his head and tug his shirt off. Roxanne’s eyes took in the sight; underneath that baggy white shirt was a hard, tattooed body. His arms and shoulders were well defined and that delicious six pack dropped down into a deep v that disappeared beneath the waistband of his briefs which rested a little above his jeans.

Roxanne let out an appreciate breath. “I might have bitten off more than I can chew.”

He chuckled, those hands finding the curve of where her ass met her thighs and effortlessly lifted her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around that trim waist as he peppered kisses along her jaw while taking the few steps to the bed. Instead of laying her back against it, he sat himself down, so she straddled him.

“Wanna dance for me?”

She thought back to her words out in the bar and groaned, dropping her head back as he chuckled. She had pretty much thrown the gauntlet down.

It was hot though; he wanted a private striptease.

Roxanne wasn’t used to drawn out foreplay. She was used to a rough blow job, Mike didn’t know how to pace himself and then he’d be on her like a horny teenager. He hadn’t changed in the four years they’d been together. Roxanne realized she had accepted it because she thought she’d been head over heels. Now, she had this hot biker asking her for a lap dance and realized that there was a lot she had been missing; like the way Hvitserk had stared at her in a room full of people like he wanted to drag her to the floor and thoroughly fuck her there.

“There’s no music in here,” she said, glancing round.

He smirked, leaning back on one hand, and shoving a hand into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out his phone and unlocked it. The glow of the phone light highlighted his handsome features.

How did she get so damn lucky on one of the most humiliating days of her lives? A hot biker had intentionally sought her out, turning her drunken partying to forget the misery of this morning into this. She had no doubt he could pull women in easily, the calm casualness of him was gravitating and women likely felt the same thing she did when he focused on them. He tapped away and Roxanne realized just how comfortable she was, half undressed sitting on his lap. Yeah, she snorted internally, she was definitely drunk.

A moment later, Ginuwine’s Pony started up. He looked at her from over his phone, the smallest smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he locked his phone and tossed it to the floor.

Roxanne slowly peeled herself from his lap. He leaned in towards her as she slowly rolled her hips, resting his hands between his legs. Those eyes were so damn intense and made her feel like a fucking million dollars as she slowly ground to the beat. She turned away from him, her fingers unbuttoning her jean shorts. She shimmied her hips, leaning her ass back to him a little as the fabric slid down and then pooled at her feet.

***

Hvitserk watched as she pulled herself off his lap, he put his hands between his legs to keep them off. Her hips moved to the beat and his fingers itched to reach out. He didn’t though even as she turned away from him. That ass in his face, even clad in denim was giving him a hard on. She wasn’t his usual type, he was used to tall, leggy slim brunettes and yet, as she slid those shorts down, he swallowed as that firm ass was revealed. Fuck, he swore to himself. The thong matched the bra. He wanted to bite the globe of flesh that shimmied in front of him.

She straddled him, her ass pressing back into his crotch and Hvitserk moved his hands, reclining back on them as she grounded against his hard on. That curvy figure wriggled and ground so damn perfectly against him. Her legs were draped over his and Hvitserk spread his knees, spreading her own.

Fuck not touching. He leaned back further and reached round to grasp her throat, his hips grinding up into hers.

“Open your eyes,” he said as they ground against one another to the song.

***

Roxanne was loving the feel of him, loved the way he ground up into her, the way he gripped her throat gently. She did what he said and opened her eyes. The mirror. Fuck it was hot. She could see herself grinding against him, her legs spread over his as he watched them through the mirror as well, he smirked, that grip on her throat squeezing softly before it slid down over her chest.

Roxanne was a little discombobulated by the fact she was watching his every move above them. She moaned as his fingers grazed her nipple through the fabric of her bra, arching her chest into his hand.

His thumb rolled over the hardening bud as Roxanne writhed across him. The song forgotten as he started to touch her.

Her hands steadied herself by his hips on the bed. Her ass pushed back into his groin, where his hard on was becoming evident. She was swimming in a haze of alcohol and pleasure when he suddenly pinched her nipple and she squealed. He chuckled by her ear as she comically slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Like that?” Hvitserk inquired, his eyes still on the mirror above them. His hand moved up to where her hand covered her mouth, gently prying it off. “I wanna hear you. Pinch your nipples, Roxy.”

Roxanne swallowed thickly, her hands moving to her breasts. She whimpered as she rolled her thumbs across the sensitive buds, pinching like Hvitserk had done.

“Fuck,” she breathed as her eyes slid shut, her head finding purchase in the crook of his neck. A strong, rough hand settled on her knee as she continued to stroke and pinch her nipples. It was more erotic having him watch her do it to herself she found. The hand on her knee slid up along her thigh. Right to the top of her thigh.

He was going to win. She was not up to this challenge. He was too good at this. Roxanne’s belly was warm, liquid heat flooding her system as she touched herself with him watching her. His thumb drew idle circles across the top of her thigh.

Roxanne stopped grinding as she focused on her breasts, letting that delicious heat between her legs build. She hadn’t even gotten her underwear off and she was a mess atop him.

“Lean up,” he said. Roxanne did and felt his fingers undoing the clasp of her bra. The straps loosened and she rolled her shoulders with a grateful sigh. She pulled it off and threw it across the room. Large hands cupped her breasts and she moaned as his thumbs found her nipples and stroked and pinched as his lips brushed the back of her neck. Those hands were delicious. She covered them with her own, encouraging him. She was close, and he’d only been touching her nipples. Roxanne needed his hands elsewhere. She dragged one of his hands down her belly, shivering as his hand delved beneath her underwear without her needing to voice what she needed.

She gasped as his finger slid along her clit, then groaned when his fingers went further, sinking between her wet lips and thrusting into her. She murmured out a yes as he alternated between pumping into her and stroking her clit.

His teeth scraped across her shoulder. Roxanne was panting, legs trembling as he pinched her nipple and stroked her clit. With a curse, she crumpled. His legs trapped hers from closing as she came, twitching as she whimpered, trying to squeeze her legs shut.

***

She hadn’t screamed for him. Yet. He hadn’t expected her to orgasm so quick. How long had it been since she’d had a good fuck? A while by the way she was reacting to him. He loved the way her body shuddered against him as he brought her undone. He hadn’t gotten to see her face as she was facing away from him, her head leaning into his shoulder.

He slowly dragged his hand from her underwear. She collapsed back into his chest and he grinned. She was a cuddly little kitten post orgasm. He pressed a kiss to her temple as she came down.

“Wow,” she whispered. He chuckled, the deep rumble under her back shaking her a little.

After a moment, she slid off his lap to kneel between his legs. Her fingers went to his belt as she peered up at him from beneath her lashes. Fuck, she looked good like this.

Hvitserk leaned down, his fingers grabbing her chin and pulling her to him for a kiss. He stood, letting her shuffle back on her knees as he pushed her hands from his belt. He undid it and then his jeans were undone and dropping to the floor. He was hard, painfully so. Delicate, soft fingers tucked into the waistband of his briefs and then they were pulled down. His cock sprang free and he groaned softly at the release.

***

Roxanne was impressed. She glanced up at him from where she knelt. He had his head titled back, and she leaned in then, grabbing his thighs and pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss to the underside of his cock. He was hard and ready, but Roxanne was determined to give as good as she got from him. His grunt above her was rough as his cock twitched under her mouth. His head dropped forward to his chest and he was staring at her. Roxanne kept his eyes locked with hers as slowly licked up along the underside of him. There was a strangled noise from him, and Roxanne smirked at him as her fingers closed around the base of him.

Her grip firm but not intending to hurt, stroked along him, her thumb gliding over the weeping head. What surprise her was the sudden whimper from the man above her as she closed her mouth around the head of his cock, her tongue sweeping over it like she was trying a lollipop.

“Fuck.” Fingers buried into her hair as she slowly swallowed him; relaxing her throat to try and take him all in. Those fingers tightened on her hair as she hummed around his cock.

***

Hvitserk nearly wept as the hum in her throat caressed his cock. She was good. Fuck, he’d gotten head before, but this was so different. There was no hurry to it, no quick get him hard and then get him in her. No, Hvitserk was going to enjoy this. His legs trembled as she came off him, only to swallow him again, her teeth just gazing the underside of his cock.

He moaned, tightening his grip on her hair. He needed to thrust, he needed to move but he was trying to so desperately to let her set the pace of this, knowing he could hurt her if he was rough. Her tongue stroked him, and he whispered out another curse. He needed to fuck her, now.

***

Roxanne winced a little at the grip in her hair as she tried to sink back down on him. He held her in place as he pulled back and then he was dragging her to her feet. Roxanne moaned into the bruising kiss. He sought her hungrily, hands slipping to her hips, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of her thong. He rolled the fabric down her hips all the while kissing her like a hungry predator.

She quickly toed off her booties and kicked them away as he let her underwear drop to the floor around her feet.

His hands found her ass and thigh and he was lifting her up. She gripped his neck and shoulder, her thighs tightening against his hips as he turned and rolled her beneath him onto the bed. He settled down over her and Roxanne sighed into the kiss, massaging the back of his neck as that slow and unhurried pace washed back over them.

His head bowed to her breasts; bruised, swollen lips found her nipple. She moaned, suddenly grabbing at the sheets under her as he slowly moved down her body, planting open mouthed kisses across her chest and belly. His tongue carved a hot path from her navel down. Looking down, Roxanne found the sight of a muscular, tattooed biker settling his head between her thighs erotic in a way she couldn’t place. She wasn’t used to getting head, Mike just didn’t like doing it, thought it was too difficult. Now she had a gorgeous man burying his face between her thighs like he was right at home.

***

She was tense, he could feel it in the way her thigh muscles bunched by his head. “Relax,” he murmured, turning to press his lips to her inner thigh. “Lay back.” He looked down the length of her body to her face. She looked hot; swollen pouty lips, flushed cheeks, and messy curls. She still looked uncertain but whatever internal debate she was having with herself, his words got through and she slowly relaxed back into the bed.

***

Roxanne stared at the mirror above them. Okay, she got why he had it. The sight of her, stretched out across the bed, clutching at the blankets with her thighs slung over Hvitserk’s shoulders as he nipped and sucked his way along her thigh was fucking hot. She could only see the back of his head and his back as his muscles flexed as he moved. She adored his back. One of his arms curled around her thigh and held her steady.

His mouth came to her clit and Roxanne’s hips bucked off the bed. She blushed as she watched his head twist to glance up to her face. She wouldn’t look; she would just keep her eyes on the mirror. His chuckle was sexy as he returned to her clit.

Roxanne moaned as his tongue slid along her. Fuck, he was good at this. She clutched hard at the sheets he slipped two fingers into her and she swore as her hips bucked into his mouth.

***

Hvitserk smirked against her, enjoying the way her thighs squeezed against his head. He held her thigh in place so she couldn’t run from him as his tongue circled her clit. Her hips bucked against him as he pumped his fingers into her, curling up against her. She was a hot mess above him, whimpering and moaning as he kept going. Her hand buried into his hair and Hvitserk grunted against her tug but didn’t stop. He was going to make her scream; he’d promised her she would, and he wasn’t going to fail on that.

***

“Fuck,” Roxanne breathed. The sight of herself completely at his mercy in the mirror was incredible. The licking of heat spread from her belly and out over her body. Her toes curled as Hvitserk sped up, guessing she was close. She gripped his hair tight and cried out as she came, her legs trembling and her hips rocking into him. He didn’t stop and she whimpered as he carried her through her orgasm.

She was shivering as he finally gave her a break, his mouth carving a hot, wet path across her belly. Her body was heavy; a combination of the alcohol in her system and the two orgasms were making her tired. He hadn’t even fucked her. Roxanne glanced down at him; he had his head resting against her belly. She scraped her nails against his scalp and grinned as he shivered before glancing up at her. He was so incredibly hot as he pulled back from her. She let him go, leaning up on her elbows as she watched him get up and reach for his jeans.

He had his back to her, and Roxanne was able to admire his ass as he rummaged through a back pocket. She leaned back on the bed, staring up at her reflection in the mirror. Her fingers absently trailed over her stomach as she listened to him rummaging around.

***

Hvitserk glanced at her, she was laying back, staring up at her reflection. He grinned; that mirror was the best damn thing he’d done to this room. Her legs were drawn up slightly and he watched her. She was breathtaking post orgasm, and he was a little surprised at how he couldn’t imagine the guy who’d stood her up and left her at the altar. How? Why?

He pulled the condom from out of his wallet and tossed them back down to the floor. The soft thud drew her attention. He grinned, holding up the packet. She blushed and he was taken back by the sweetness of her.

“I have a request,” she said into the quiet between them as he stood there.

“Oh? What would that be?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest as he stood profile to the bed, waiting for her to answer.

“Can you wear your vest?” It was a whisper. She was shy about asking. If only she knew just how many sweet butts demanded he leave it on while fucking them; it wasn’t that weird, most women got hot under the collar because of the kutte, the bad boy image that the club members projected. He’d experienced it since he’d been a prospect and the girls at high school had shown him the effect it had.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, and nodded. “Your wish, is my command.”

He grabbed his kutte as he came back to the bed, the condom packet between his teeth as he shrugged the leather back on.

***

He stood at the bottom of the bed, shrugging into the leather and she let out a shaky breath. It was so damn hot to see his bare inked skin against the black. He put his knee down onto the bed between her legs and his hands found her knees. He still had the condom packet between his teeth as he came down to her, his fingers smoothing along her thighs. He was still hard and ready to go.

She reached out and pulled the packet from between his lips as he got within reach. She opened it and tossed the packet aside as he knelt over her. She reached between them, her fingers closing around him. He hummed in the back of his throat as she stroked him slowly, enjoying the way his hips rocked into her hand. She rolled the condom onto him and kept hold of him. He watched her, his eyes hooded as she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him down to her. He was so gorgeous and for just a night, she got to be with him. She wouldn’t see him again, and so Roxanne committed every little detail she could to her memory and prayed she’d remember it when she was sober.

He came down and kissed her gently, his lips brushing across hers as he smoothed her hair back from her face and she smiled against him, releasing her grip as he sunk down into her. She moaned, her hips shifting to meet his as he pulled back a little. He stopped kissing her, his forehead resting against hers as he sunk back into her. He groaned, his head dropping to her neck. His hand held her hair gently as he kissed her throat, searing himself deep in her. Her hands slipped under the leather and found his back, digging in and holding him close.

Roxanne felt so good, loving the way he filled her. He ground his hips against her slowly.

“Fuck,” she breathed as he hit that deep spot in her that made her gasp. He didn’t lean away, using his elbow to support some of his weight as he kept up the slow pace and grinding. Roxanne was swimming. This was unreal.

***

Hvitserk was kissing her neck, his teeth nipping at her flesh as he ground against her. She felt so damn good. He didn’t usually go this slow but fuck if he wasn’t going to savour being balls deep in this messy, thoroughly fucked angel. He sought her neck out, his teeth leaving love bites across her tanned skin. She clung to him and for a second Hvitserk felt a pain in his chest. Fate was funny in the way it had pushed them into this and yet, it was only one night. They were two different people, worlds apart and nothing good could come from him dragging her into the life he and his family lived. He didn’t want to rush and let her go. He needed this. Her thighs clutched at his hips and he kept his grip on her hair. He didn’t want to let her go.

***

Roxanne was not use to slow sex. Mike had preferred finding the end as quick as he could, only concerned about getting off. This was incredible; Hvitserk was incredible. She slid her heel over his ass and dug into the firm flesh. He grunted as she raised her hips to meet him. His thrusts quickened as he buried himself in closer against her. Roxanne moaned as his leathers brushed against her nipples. She pushed him then, shoving his weight to the side and followed him. He grunted as his back hit the bed and he looked up at her as she threw her leg over his hips.

***

Hvitserk grinned up at her as she grabbed his kutte for purchase and sunk down onto him, her head dropping back as she moaned. His hands found her hips, helping her set a steady rhythm and he groaned, leaning back to watch the mirror above them. She was leaning back, giving him the best fucking view as she rode him. He groaned as she sunk down and then ground her hips. His fingers dug into her flesh as her speed quickened.

***

Roxanne bit her lip as she rode him; hands holding his leathers and bracing against his chest for purchase. He grunted and bucked his hips to meet hers, the frantic pace they were reaching a signal he was close to the finish. She leaned over him, her teeth biting at his lower lip. He returned the kiss, fighting her for dominance.

He sat up then, his arms sliding around her back and holding her to him. Roxanne leaned her head back as his teeth sunk into her throat, keeping hold of her as he took control. It was animalistic the way he suddenly gripped her, holding her throat in his teeth but not hard enough to hurt. Her hands buried into his hair, messing up his man bun and braids.

He groaned her name, long and deep suddenly and his movements became jerky as he came.

***

They collapsed backwards, Roxanne dislodging herself so she could sprawl out beside him, staring up at their reflections in the mirror. He was breathing raggedly and smiling. Roxanne grinned, leaning against his side. She bit his chest playfully and he hissed, chuckling.

He rolled away from her for a second, taking off the condom before coming back to her.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and made her look at him. “Are you okay?”

She smiled, nodding. “Yeah, though I should probably go find Tati and the others. We need to head home.”

The smile slowly faded from that handsome face and she internally cringed, realizing she’d broken the spell clinging to them in here. “I’ll help you round them up.”

He surprised her when he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead before he pulled away and climbed from the bed, pulling his vest off as he went to grab his briefs from the ground. Roxanne had to reason that she needed to break this, whatever it was, so she could go home, back to whatever was waiting for her there. She climbed from the bed and located her underwear, dressing quietly as he did.

***

Hvitserk found a packet of smokes on the chest of drawers by his keys and pulled one out, lighting it as he pulled his kutte back on. He could hear Roxanne dressing behind him, but he didn’t turn around. He wasn’t angry that she’d brought them back to reality. She was right, she needed to go back to her own life and the sooner she did it, the easier he figured it would be. He wasn’t used to this; the wanting someone to stay.

Margrethe, his only true serious relationship had been teen angst coupled with her being a sweet butt that knew how to play club members like a fiddle. She’d done a number on him, and Ubbe. Sigurd didn’t speak of it, but they all knew he still saw her when he ventured to the chapter in Florida where their mother had sent her to avoid the drama of the sons of Ragnar in fighting. Hvitserk didn’t miss her, he’d just never really trusted someone again.

Sweet butts tried to get close, but he kept them at arm’s length. He glanced over his shoulder at where Roxanne was shimmying into her jean shorts and felt something deep in him feel sick. She wasn’t what he had expected when he’d first seen her tonight, but jeez, he’d loved every second of it.

It was going to hurt watching her walk out of here.

***

Roxanne let him lead her back towards the bar. He stopped at each door, knocking and asking for the girls for her. Imagine her surprise when a blonde appeared in the doorway, sans everything but a pair of boxers as Sally and Fiona appeared behind him half naked. Biting her lip to stifle a smile, she watched as the blonde spoke to Hvitserk in a language Roxanne didn’t know. Hvitserk looked comfortable, not worried about the two barely clothed women as he spoke between smoking.

“Sorry ladies, guess the nights over,” the blonde said, pouting at her friends who giggled and they disappeared back into the room to get dressed.

Hvitserk glanced at her. “He’s my brother.” She nodded slowly.

“You two look nothing alike.”

He grinned and jerked his head down the corridor. “Come on.”

***

Hvitserk helped her find Tatiana. Her best friend had taken to helping the woman on the bar clean up some of the chaos about the bar. Sally and Fiona reappeared, clothed with Hvitserk’s brother and Tatiana gave her a wide smile as she saw them approach. She linked arms with Roxanne, giving her a raised eyebrow as she glanced at where Hvitserk was talking to the woman at the bar to organise a ride for them back into the city.

Roxanne whispered that she’d tell her back at the hotel.

Tatiana just smiled.

***

Hvitserk and his brother led the ladies outside. Roxanne was surprised to see a man sitting on a lunch bench out on the lot smoking. He didn’t speak to them. Hvitserk pulled out another smoke as they stood waiting in the cool night air for the taxi. Roxanne felt the chill and wrapped her arms around herself as she huddled with Tati while Sally and Fiona chatted up Sigurd, or so he’d introduced himself to her as.

She felt him behind her then and the warmth of his body drew her in; Roxanne leaned back into him a little. He talked causally to his brother over her head and she was reminded just how small she was compared to him. They didn’t touch each other, just stood as close as they could.

The taxi arrived way too quick. Sigurd helped Sally and Fiona into it, and Tatiana climbed in next. Roxanne’s feet didn’t move, suddenly anchored to the spot. This was it; this was goodbye. He hadn’t moved from behind her. His hand found her hip as he flicked the smoke he was finished with off nearby. Like inside when he’d followed her into the sea of bodies, he took her chin and made her look at him. His fingers ghosted over her jaw and she leaned into it, smiling weakly.

“You’re gonna be hard to forget,” he said softly and then kissed her. She pulled away first and nodded at him, letting out a shaky breath as she stepped towards the taxi. His hand stayed at her hip until she was out of his reach and then she was in the taxi. Sigurd shut the door for her.

“Wait, how are we paying you?” Tatiana asked suddenly to the driver and Roxanne smiled as it distracted her and pulled her attention away from Hvitserk standing outside, hands buried into pockets as Sigurd spoke to him.

“You’re not,” the driver replied. “I owe the club a favor. All things considered; this is a cake walk.”

Roxanne didn’t want to know; Sally and Fiona were talking. She’d gotten lost in her thoughts as the taxi pulled out of the lot and her heart sank a little as she glanced back to where Hvitserk had been standing to find him no longer there.

#hvitserk #vikings #smut #fanfiction #part one #vikings hvitserk #modern vikings #modern hvitserk #romance #biker hvitserk #Hvitserk x ofc #hvitserk x oc #alternate reality #hvit #Hvit try #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvietserk #fanfic #modern!hvitserk

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agentnolastname · 4 years ago

Text

Tell the World

Pairing: Raleigh Carrera x Cadence Dorian (Platinum)

Prompt: Image

for: @choicesseptemberchallenge20 • Day 25

Note: Hello! This is my first time joining a fic fest and my first time writing, too. It's not the best but I hope you'll enjoy it. Thank you!

---

Cadence wakes up as the rays of sun hit her eyes. She stirs and tightens her arms around the waist of the man beside him, unwilling to move and get the day started. It hasn't even been 24 hours since the last time she went on stage and she feels so tired. She groans as her phone buzzed once again making the latter chuckle from behind her and stroke her hair.

"Babe, you have to wake up. Your phone has been going off since earlier." Raleigh pats her back lightly as he inched himself away from her only to put a kiss on her forehead and on the tip of his nose. Cadence waits for his lips to land on hers yet she didn't feel it. So he opened her eyes and pouts only to see her boyfriend grining down at her. "Thought it's gonna wake you up and it did. Good morning, hermosa. Let's move now, shall we?" He says finally reaching to let their lips meet.

Cadence groans and hides her head on his neck once again.

"Can't we stay for another hour?" She protested and let herself nuzzle the latter's neck. Raleigh just stays still as she does, holding her tighter.

"You know just how much I'd love that but I bet Fiona would disagree." Just then, her phone buzzed once again. Fiona's caller ID appearing on her screen. Raleigh takes it and answers the call.

"Hey, Fiona." He answers brightly. His husky voice long gone. Cadence chuckles as Raleigh continues bickering with her publicist on the phone.

It was after a few minutes when Raleigh sets the phone down on the night stand that he rolls them over, he ends up hovering on top of her.

"My manager talked with Fiona and it's bad news." Raleigh smirks as he lowers himself to trace kisses on Cadence's neck. She giggles at the sudden contact, lulling her head back to give his boyfriend more access.

"How bad?" Cadence asked him as he goes to kiss her on the lips once again.

"Let's just say, a pap saw me walking into your house last night." Cadence hums and pushed him to sit. She moves to straddle him.

"That's not so bad." Cadence says unfazed, trailing Raleigh's neck and chest with her fingers as she follows them with little kisses. The man held her on the waist pulling her impossibly close.

"Except they saw me carrying a box of condoms." Just like a lightning, Cadence's expression changed as she moved away from Raleigh's body.

"They did what?!" She asked, obivously surprised. Well who wouldn't be? The press will eat this issue. Especially when both of them are coming out with an album next month. Especially when they allegedly broke up three weeks ago.

"They saw me walking into your house with a box of condoms in hand." Raleigh chuckles and pulls her back to him. He leans his forehead against hers and smiles. "It isn't that bad, babe."

"Raleigh, we broke up three weeks ago." Cadence says emphasizing the word broke up as if it'll knock some sense into him.

"That's what they know." Raleigh shrugs, Cadence hits his shoulder lightly and stands up. Grabbing clean towels and heading into the shower. "Oh in the shower? Again?"

"You're not joining me for shower today, Mr.Carrera!" Cadence says out loud just as he was about to enter. He laughs and moves away going back to bed as he waits for her to finish.

This will be a long day.

---

They arrived at Overknight early since they did not make any stops today, Cadence did not even speak to him during the whole ride. She just leaned on his shoulders and not say anything. Not that Raleigh would wish for anything else though. Holding Cadence in his arms is more than enough, but surely, being able to tell the world that she is a big part of his life rather than a phase would be great. They walked into the studio hand in hand. Cadence stayed quiet despite Raleigh's efforts to open up a conversation one after another. They sat side by side into a couch in front of Fiona and Raleigh's publicist, Edward.

"I said that you two should be careful." It was the first thing they heard from the two. Cadence's heart beats fast on her chest. Unable to make herself feel at ease because of the possible scenarios this event might lead up to.

She doesn't get nervous often, but then this might affect both of their careers, and she wouldn't like it if this will harm Raleigh's career in any way. She looks down as the publicists talks about the issue, thinking of ways to avoid further controversies.

"If we're talking about publicity then this issue is definitely doing great in terms of exposure. America loved their relationship, don't you think?" Edward scrolls through twitter showing that the netizens mostly had positivie reactions regarding this.

Some even thinks it's funny how their relationship is an open secret the company is trying to hide. Cadence plays with her hands, still unable of what to make of it. Suddenly, Raleigh's hand covered hers and gives it a little squeeze. When she looks at him, she saw Raleigh grinning at her. So she smiles, too.

They continued discussing with their publicists unable to come up with a definite solution, but with the current position of the issue, it seems like there's no way that it'll worsen. After an hour, Fiona decided that it was enough talk for a day.

"I can see that the issue has no significant effect on your standings. I'll leave it up to you both."

Just like that they were dismissed. They said their goodbyes and head home right after.

---

Contrary to what Raleigh had initially thought, today went by fast. They dozed off to sleep right after they reached home and they played a couple of movies during the afternoon, making out a few times in between. Yet, they still haven't decided on what they should do next.

It was night and Cadence is almost done cooking for dinner. Raleigh, on the other hand, is on the kitchen bar stool when he decided to bring the topic up.

"I want to go public." He says randomly as he takes in the sight of his girlfriend moving across the kitchen. Looking a lot more beautiful wearing her messy bun and without make ups on.

This is the kind of sight he would kill to see everyday. The kind of moment he would like to boast around the world. He's the lucky man who gets to eat Cadence Dorian's cooking every day, what's there not to be smug about? He chuckles when he realized Cadence still hasn't moved since he says it. He stands up and goes behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning down on her shoulder.

"I want to tell the world that we own each other, Cadence." He says, placing a soft kiss on her exposed shoulder. Cadence turns the stove off as she looks over her shoulder to reach his lips for a kiss.

"What if some of your fans become mad again?" She says, now leaning her head into Raleigh's chest.

"They're not fans if they act like that. Besides, I don't intend on having fans forever. On the other hand..." he trails off and perched a kiss on top of her head. "... I plan to stick with you from now on."

Cadence chuckles at this, turning around and dragging Raleigh back into the living room where she pushed her boyfriend into the couch and she sits on his lap. Raleigh's arms are wrapped into her in seconds.

"Is this real? Raleigh Carrera being cheesy? Sounds like headlines to me." She teased as she loops her arms around Raleigh's neck.

"Make it a headline then, I don't care." He says nuzzling her neck. "If that's how you want to go public then so be it. Good way, too, since they'll realize I probably plan on marrying you."

"And do you?"

"Of course, hermosa." He chuckles placing yet another kiss on her neck. Cadence giggles and hugs him tighter.

"I love you."

"I love you more, Cadence."

"You go and tell the world how crazy you are for me then."

Raleigh placed one more kiss before the latter stood up and heads back into the kitchen. He follows after a few seconds hastily snapping and image of his girlfriend. Then he opens twitter and types, attaching the picture he just took, clicking on the tweet button once he's done.

He chuckles as their friends replied one by one. The people went crazy, as their names enter the worldwide trends in just a few minutes. Cadence confusedly looked at him as she unlocks her phone only to see his tweet.

"God, why is my boyfriend like this?" She frowns and placed their food in front of Raleigh who is still busy scrolling through the tweets. Cadence sits beside him and sends a tweet.

"What's this? You actually don't mean..." Raleigh trails off and shakes his head, moving closer to Cadence. "Nah, you won't break up with me." He says sneaking his arms around her waist immediately.

"Oh, who told you?" Cadence raises her eyebrows, bringing her tweet to life as he teased his boyfriend. Yet, Raleigh didn't budge. He still wears his confident smirk, inching himself closer to her. He leans his head on Cadence.

"You did."

They both laughed as they started eating. Finally relieved that they wouldn't be sneaking out for a date tomorrow, or the next few days, or ever. They happily ate dinner. Glad that they can finally date freely now.

---

EXTRA:

#choices platinum #raleigh carrera #raleigh x mc #raleighxmc #choices #choices stories you play #raleigh carrera x mc #choices september challenge #cadence dorian

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 5 years ago

Text

Catherine, Heathcliff, and Shangri-la

PART TEN OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: mentions of death, smoking, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 4.9K

Summary: Though she plans to spend her birthday alone, Ella ends up passing time on the late August evening with Jess, eating old pie and playing cards.

She looked like a dream in her sundress. Late August light bathed the crowds at the summer festival, and Ella practically glimmered when Jess spotted her from across the square. It made him feel like an idiot thinking the way he was, but she had an effect on him which he’d previously only read about in books. He wasn’t sure exactly when the tipping point had been, when he’d truly fallen in love with her, passed the point of no return. But he had. And he was. He loved a girl who didn’t believe in love, who wasn’t into dating, who didn’t feel the same. It had never been so complicated before, and he’d never been so completely screwed. There were moments, times when his heart nearly burst from the hope. When she laughed at one of his wiseass remarks, or ran her fingertips over the notes he’d left in the margins of her poetry books, or let her eyes linger on him for just a second too long. But each time, she would brush it off, act like nothing had happened. And he’d be forced to wonder if he’d imagined the electricity passing between them.

Slowly, over the course of the summer, he was beginning to come to terms with it. Maybe they could just be friends, coworkers. Maybe all he needed was to make out with Shane until his lips were swollen and his mind was blank and his memory would be wiped clean of all the times Ella had made him feel deeper than he ever had before. Besides, he had never fallen in love before, had never uttered the three fateful words in all his seventeen years. A small part of him believed he could snap out of it easily.

He took his eyes back from her form, concentrating on the girl in front of him. The girl who wanted him and nothing more. Who meant nothing but ease and pleasure. Sliding his hands down in her back pockets, Jess closed his eyes and placed kisses down Shane’s neck, the bark of the tree they leaned on rough against his back.

. . .

“She’s back with a vengeance!” Ella exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Rory in a gleeful embrace.

They stood together near a flower stand, the fragrant display adding sweetness to the air. Despite the barber shop quartet droning on in the background, Ella felt her spirits lift at the sight of Rory Gilmore, her confidant missing in action over the summer at an internship in Washington. In the back of her mind, Ella couldn’t help reminding herself that soon, she would have to deal with the constant separation. Rory would be off at Harvard, Lane would be touring with her band (hopefully), and Ella would be stuck. As she always had been. She’d have to fill Rory in on how the college applications were going later.

Rory laughed happily, pulling away from Ella and holding her at an arm’s length. “Yes, and with all the hot DC gossip.”

“I’m intrigued,” Ella said, raising an eyebrow.

From behind them, Lorelai beamed, her own face painted with joy, her daughter back in town. Ella loved that about summer. It had a special kind of magic no other season could manage, positivity radiating from everyone, dampened only by the occasional rainy day.

“Alright, let’s go find Lane, and we are in for a movie night of epic proportions!” Lorelai announced, strolling around the square with the two teens in tow.

Before they departed completely, however, Rory followed Ella’s distracted gaze to the old oak where Jess stood, eating his girlfriend’s face.

“Oh, God!” Rory exclaimed, scrunching up her face in disgust.

Ella blushed, Rory having noticed her staring. She hadn’t meant to. But seeing the two of them together, considering the many fights with Shane the summer had brought, gave her a feeling of irritated uneasiness. Like a car crash she couldn’t look away from. Morbid interest feeding morbid interest in a vicious, voyeuristic cycle.

Tilting her head to the scene in question, Lorelai scoffed. “Guess he’s got his ‘What I Did This Summer’ essay all planned out.”

“I know,” Ella groaned. “America’s youth really does have such admirable modesty.”

Snorting a laugh, Rory shot a knowing look at her mother. “Have they been at that a lot?”

Ella nodded, speeding up in her stride a little to get out of view of the display. “Yep. It’s now part of the Early Bird Special at the diner. Dinner and a show.”

Lorelai faked a gag. “I told you. The kid gives off major Sid Vicious vibes.”

“Looks like he’s found his Nancy,” Rory added.

“And he’s been so weird at work lately. He barely talks to me, just sits on his little stool. Reading, brooding, scaring off small children. Maybe I pissed him off. I don’t know,” Ella said. She fiddled with the chain of her necklace.

“Um….Ella?” Rory began, bringing a hand to the blonde girl’s shoulder. “Do you not realize you’re the Catherine to his Heathcliff?”

Ella scoffed, laughing breathily. “What?”

“He’s totally into you!” Lorelai exclaimed.

Raising a brow, Ella rolled her eyes and kept walking. She crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. “Very funny.”

“Every time he looks at you…” Lorelai said, feigning a swoony look. “It’s sickening.”

“Yeah, right. I bet it’s Rory he’s into,” Ella argued, shrugging them off once more.

“Oh really?” Rory asked skeptically. “Then why does he make those notes in your margins? In the poetry books he said he hated when he first got here?”

“It’s mutually assured destruction,” Ella explained. “If he stops taking a chance on poetry, I’ll stop taking a chance on the beats. The arguments would ensue, the diner would descend into chaos. In an effort to avoid certain death during our shifts together, we compromise.”

“Ah, the key to a strong relationship’s foundation,” Lorelai retorted.

Snorting a laugh, Ella shook her head. Without the flowers and the serenity of solitude, the less desirable aspects of the festival began to wear on Ella’s psyche. The barber shop quartet spun around and around in her head, making her dizzy, and the sun beat down on them. Stray strands of hair, fallen from her bun, began to stick to her damp forehead.

Suddenly, an idea occurred to Ella. “Rory, my dear?”

“Yes?” Rory answered with suspicion.

“You know how you always give me presents on my birthday even though I tell you not to?” Ella asked.

“I’m aware of the annual birthday commiseration,” Rory said, nodding.

“Well, I’d like to request, as a birthday present for your favorite waitress, a moratorium on the Jess talk until I am seventeen years and one day old,” Ella suggested, fluttering her eyelashes jokingly.

Sighing, Rory linked her arm with Ella’s. “Alright, but only because you asked so very nicely.”

“Good to have you back, Thelma,” Ella smiled fondly, pulling her friend a little closer.

“Same to you, Louise.”

Lorelai chuckled and shook her head, watching as the girls ascended the steps to Lane’s door.

. . .

Mercifully, Ella had made it through the day with minimal birthday wishes and no attempts at gift-giving. Lorelai and Rory had teased her about a surprise party, but she knew they wouldn’t truly dare. Instead of going home, where she knew she’d have to brave Fiona’s pathetic attempts at celebration, she wandered around town aimlessly. It made her feel guilty to snap at the woman so much, but she just couldn’t help herself. Watching Fiona, only twelve years her senior, traipsing around in her house, humming the Dixie Chicks songs she knew her mother would’ve hated. Before she could apply any rational thought to the decision, she found her way to the bridge. The greenish-black water sparkled in glowing moonlight. Crickets sung and cicadas buzzed, a low summer tune. She hung her booted feet over the edge, the black cotton of her dress pooling around her knees. Rifling through her shoulder bag to the side, she found a copy of The Grapes of Wrath. A perfect book to sustain her gloomy mood. She laid back against the wooden planks of the pier, holding the novel above her face, blocking out the view of the clear night. The humidity had dissipated, and a cool breeze blew past her.

A few peaceful moments had passed before she heard footfalls thumping heavily, vibrating beneath her back. She sighed as the noise got closer, letting the book fall to her chest and rolling her eyes.

“Stealing my spot, huh?” Jess spoke up as he approached, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“Sorry, didn’t realize you’d bought the property.”

“Touché.”

Though Ella still hadn’t looked over at him, she heard him sit down next to her. She could smell the subtle mixture of hair gel and pine.

“By all means, sit down,” she snapped, sitting up again, placing her scrap of construction paper back in the book to save her place. She stuffed it back in her bag to the left. Fiddling with the end of the loose braid which hung over her shoulder, she sighed again.

Jess scoffed. “Jeez, Daria. Don’t pull your punches.”

“Bite me, Jess,” she replied flatly, staring out across the water. In the light, she knew she would’ve been able to watch schools of tiny grey fish whizzing by. As a child, she’d imagined small mermaids living in a crystalline village beneath the surface of the dull silt and sand.

“Feelin’ pithy tonight?” he drawled, an eyebrow raised.

“You could say that.”

He only nodded, leaning back on his palms. Silence stood between the two of them, heavy in the nighttime air. Ella almost put her nails to her mouth, then thought better of it. When Jess still didn’t speak, she huffed out a big breath and finally tossed him a glance.

“Don’t you have someone to verbally abuse at the diner or a girlfriend’s face to suck or something?” she asked.

Jess shot her a look. Before he could even respond, Ella spoke again.

“As long as you’re here, could you loan me a cigarette?” she asked, a shameful blush coloring her cheeks. As much as the request embarrassed her, she couldn’t stand the way her skin was crawling.

“What?” Jess blurted out, eyes wide. “What happened to the periodic surgeon general’s warnings?”

She sighed, dropping her gaze to her lap and clearing her throat. “I’ve gotta keep you on your toes, don’t I?”

Though slightly flabbergasted, Jess’s eyes shone fondly, remembering the carriage ride they’d taken at the Bracebridge dinner so many months ago. After a moment, he produced a crumpled packet and a lighter from his pocket and handed them to her.

“Thank you,” she muttered, placing a cigarette between her lips. It surprised her that he actually obliged, considering how stand-offish he’d been at work lately. The lighter struck on the first try, the small orange flame flickering warmly in the darkness. And Jess could tell immediately it was far from the first time she’d smoked. She handed the supplies back to him.

He took a cigarette of his own and lit it up.

“Don’t tell Luke,” she said, voice slightly husky as she exhaled the first puff of smoke. Her words came out in dim blue clouds.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he replied, tapping ash into the lake and watching it burn out. “Your secret is safe, Stevens.”

“Thanks. I’ll consider it a birthday present,” she grumbled, feeling the familiar burn of smoke in her chest. She knew she would regret the decision in the morning.

“It’s your birthday?”

“Yep.”

“Happy birthday,” he said reflexively, eyebrows raised.

Scoffing bitterly, Ella flicked ash off her cigarette with her thumb. “Thanks, Mariano.”

“Is that why you’re gonna bite my head off at the next wrong move?”

She laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, birthdays aren’t my thing.”

“Huh. And I guess that’s why no one said anything at work?”

Ella nodded. “Yeah, after a few crying customers last year, Luke ordered the diner a birthday-free zone.”

“Wise of him.”

“It was.”

Regarding her in the moonlight, Jess sighed. “Any particular reason for the birthday allergy?”

Swallowing harshly, Ella brought her free hand to her necklace and a smirk formed on her face. “It’s just...my mom was a big birthday person. Without her here, it just all feels a little artificial. It’s weird. The anniversary of the day she died never hits me as hard as Mother’s Day, or today.”

He nodded, solemn as she continued.

“I try to spend as little time at home as I can. And Rory and Lorelai always try to get me to do something,” she said, pausing to inhale deeply and blow out a stream of smoke. “But I am nothing if not pertinacious.”

“Nice. Ten-cent word.”

“Thanks. Used it in the crossword this morning. I’d say it’s at least twenty cents,” she said, scoffing in mock offense.

Jess chuckled. “Alright, I’ll cave for the birthday girl.”

“How kind of you.”

Crushing the smoldering butt of her cigarette on the weathered bridge wood, Ella exhaled out her nose and crossed one leg over the other. She smoothed her hands over her dress. Somewhere, a loon cried. Jess sat quietly beside her, the last of his cigarette glowing as he inhaled. When he put it out, he stood up and made to leave. Ella didn’t say a word, didn’t even look at him. After a second of thought, he held a hesitant hand out to her.

“Let’s go back to the diner,” he proposed with finality. “We can eat the leftover pie. There will be no birthday talk whatsoever. I promise.”

Looking at his hand, Ella thought of the book in her bag. The hours she could spend alone with nothing but Steinbeck to entertain her. But then, she felt a sudden rush of courage at the thought of Luke’s. Free of people, with pastries under the glass domes on the counters and stale pies in the back fridge. And Jess. She heaved a sigh, then slung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed his hand.

. . .

“No way,” Jess said, shaking his head doubtfully as he took another bite of the pie.

Ella smiled, nodding. “I swear. I was named the worst dancer out of all the little girls ever taught at Miss Patty’s by the Gazette. I was responsible for the domino incident of 1992 which caused two sprained ankles and one broken arm. Suffice it to say, the arm was mine.”

“Jesus,” Jess laughed, his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, I’m Patrick Swayze’s worst nightmare.”

Jess rolled his eyes and threw his head back with a dramatic groan. “I’ll never understand your fixation with those cheesy eighties movies.”

“You bite your tongue, heathen,” she said lightly, digging another bite from the cold apple pie in the tin between them.

“Well, at least we can agree on Steinbeck,” he shrugged through a laugh.

She nodded and sighed tiredly, brought a hand to her necklace.

The diner shone brightly against the otherwise dark landscape of Main Street. Ella could hear Luke snoring from all the way upstairs, but it was almost comforting if not amusing. With the leftover pie between them, she and Jess sat alone amongst chairs stacked on tables and cutlery put away. It smelled vaguely of disinfectant, but the pine was still there, making her heart feel just a touch less broken. Maybe being alone wasn’t the best way to pass one of the hardest days of her year.

“I’m surprised she still even lets you step foot in the studio, leaving that much carnage in your wake,” Jess said, smirking at the way the tension slowly released from her shoulders.

Snorting a laugh, Ella took another bite of the pie. She could tell it was made from her recipe, heavy on the cinnamon. “Well, the years have improved my coordination a little bit.”

“But have they?” he teased.

“Shut up,” she retorted, good nature in her voice.

A comfortable pause filled the air. Jess’s eyes caught her thin fingers still rolling the silver chain of her necklace. She blew up a long breath and straightened up, putting her fork back down in the tin, the half-pie almost all the way gone.

Nodding, Jess swallowed dryly and bit at his lip. “Why do you wear that necklace every day?”

Eyes widening, Ella couldn’t help but feel taken aback by the question. She let out a self-conscious scoff and her hand immediately dropped away from her collar. The small silver charm, a key, glinted in the yellow diner light.

“My grandmother gave it to me,” she explained, her tone even though she avoided his eyes. “It’s the key to the jewelry box she had when she was little. The box got lost, but the key stayed. She was a singer. Friends with Miss Patty. Pretty fucking cool.”

Jess smiled a tiny smile. “Sounds like it.”

“Yeah,” she replied, the word a sigh. Then, after a beat, she regained her direct nature and looked him in the eye. “Okay, since we’re asking questions tonight: why the hell are there bongos on the shelf above your desk?”

Jess laughed, but his cheeks reddened a touch. “Those were there when I moved in. Scout’s Honor.”

She rolled her eyes. “You are the last person in the world they would ever let into the Scouts.”

“Wow, that one hurt.”

Ella smiled. “Then what’s Luke doing with those bongos?”

“Preparing for a Matthew McConaughey,” Jess shot back knowingly.

“Ugh, that image is gonna be burned in my mind forever,” she groaned, nose scrunching up in disgust.

“You’re welcome.”

“Fuck you,” she said, grinning.

“Right back at ya.”

Suddenly, a loud snore came from the floor above them.

“Speaking of,” Ella grumbled, only in mock irritation.

“Like you don’t snore.”

“Only when I’m drunk,” she said, then looked up at him, accusatory. “But you. Oh my god, it was all night long. Really, the two of you put together could probably break some sonic records.”

Instead of retorting, Jess retrieved his weathered deck of cards from one of his jean pockets. He raised his eyebrows as a challenge and began shuffling. “Just for that last comment, you’re about to be massacred at Rummy.”

. . .

A knot of anxiety sat in her stomach, but work was helping her keep it at bay. It was the last Saturday of summer, Monday the start of senior year. But the waves of butterflies fluttering around in her chest weren’t ones of nervousness, more only of dread. The constant drudgery of school work, the monotony of the day. She liked summer for more reasons than the mood and the weather. Free time to read, to draw, to paint. And she much preferred painting the full greenery over the desolate landscapes of a Connecticut winter. The fact she hadn’t seen Jess since the night before, when she left the diner satisfied with herself for winning three hands in a row, was doing nothing to calm her either. After cleaning up from the breakfast rush, Ella was mindlessly reorganizing the mugs on the cubby shelf to the left of the counter by color and size.

“Alright, this is ridiculous,” Luke admonished, walking up behind her.

She scoffed. “It’s not my fault these mugs haven’t been reorganized since Reagan was president.”

“Because they were the last ones you hadn’t got your hands on. You’re starting to sound like Taylor.”

Instantly, she turned and narrowed her eyes at him. “The next time you say that to me I’m turning in my apron and never looking back!”

Luke scoffed in disbelief at her dramatics. “Just take your break, Ella.”

“You think I’m bluffing,” she warned, untying her apron and leaving it on the hook near the kitchen window, “but I’m dead serious.”

“I’m quaking in my boots,” Luke replied flatly, gathering some receipts from the side of the cash register.

“I bet,” she shot back, rounding the corner and going to dig through her bag, hanging by the front door. “Is Jess here? I’ve got a book for him.”

“Upstairs,” Luke said shortly.

Retracting her hand from the shoulder bag, with a worn collection of Dorothy Parker, she rolled her eyes. She tucked her hair behind her ears and prepared to disappear behind the checkered curtain on the way to the stairs.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a master conversationalist?” she asked.

“Shaddup,” he groaned, waving an annoyed hand at her in the direction of the apartment.

Ella snickered, then bounded up the stairs, the soles of her old converse a little slippery on the creaking wood. She heard the TV droning on from inside, daytime Saturday shows. Only a couple short knocks sounded on the door before she let herself in, as she had so many times before when fetching random items during her shifts.

“Hey, Jess-” she began, turning to the left, Jess’s room.

Cut off by a sudden flash of noise, she watched Jess stuff a blue mesh vest quickly into the top drawer of his dresser. Eyes wide with surprise, he faced her with a scowl, brows scrunched up.

“Ever hear of knocking, Daria?” he snapped.

Processing the scene before her, Ella blinked a couple times and bit the inside of her cheek. “Sorry. Guess I was too quiet.”

“Apparently.” He crossed his arms over his Punk Planet t-shirt and looked at her expectantly. “You need something?”

Ella cleared her throat, looking down at the book in her hands. “Yeah, I had that Dorothy Parker I was telling you about last night and…” she paused, glancing at his dresser. “I’m sorry, Jess, but I simply can’t ignore this. Was that a Walmart vest?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

He straightened up, defensively. “No.”

“Really?”

“You heard me,” he shot back.

Pursing her lips, she nodded, unconvinced. She stepped a little closer to him, one hand on the hip of her skirt. “So, what was it?”

“A shirt.”

“A shirt with a Walmart logo on it?” she asked, her voice gaining a teasing lilt.

Jess scoffed. “I think you need glasses.”

A momentary staring contest ensued, and she watched him squirm under her hazel gaze. “Do you work at Walmart, Jess?”

Sighing through his nose, Jess glared at her. Then, he ran a hand through his hair and side-stepped Ella, making his way to the kitchen. “Fine. Yes. You happy?”

Instantly, a smile spread wide on her face. “Oh, so very happy.”

“Glad to hear it,” he growled, avoiding eye contact as he popped open a can of soda. He sat down at the kitchen table, facing the I Dream of Jeannie rerun.

Biting back her giggles, Ella came over to take the rickety kitchen chair next to him. Clearing her throat, she put the book in her hand on the table between then. She smoothed her slightly wrinkled Patti Smith t-shirt and tried to appear nonchalant, a smirk ever-present on her lips. Jess sipped his soda, eyes dark and moody, embarrassment underneath a thin layer of irritation. Nearly five minutes passed on the oven clock in the small kitchen, both of them watching Barbara Eden’s foibles in silence. Ella bit a little at her nails, but only to mask her amused expression.

“So...all this time...Shangri-la was Walmart?” she asked.

Jess sighed, rolling his eyes. “Eleanor-”

“You work at Walmart,” she repeated, chuckling a little.

“Whatever. You smoke,” he countered.

“Like, twice a year,” she said defensively. “When did you even start that job?”

Bowing his head slightly, Jess finally dropped the act a bit. “June. When you were in New Britain.”

She sighed, nodding, then brought a hand to his arm. “I’m really proud of you. I mean, you can’t waste all your people skills at the diner.”

Jess shook her off and rolled his eyes again. “Shut up. I move stock around on a fork-lift in the back.”

“Okay, tough guy.”

“And don’t tell Luke,” he said, finally looking her in the eye.

She shrugged. “Fine, I won’t. Cross my heart.”

“Thank you,” he snapped.

“You’re very welcome,” she replied, still grinning. “Seriously, though, it’s not that lame. Trust me. I think it��s cool. You have your own thing going, y’know?”

Jess scoffed in doubt but said nothing more.

Clearing her throat, Ella shifted her eyes down to her lap for a second, the tone of her voice changing. “But enough about your double-life, Mr. Bond. I just wanted to bring you that book. And also thank you for last night.”

Jess raised a brow, eyes on the TV screen. “For what?”

“I don’t know. If you hadn’t come along, my plan was to read Steinbeck at the lake, then sneak home and listen to Nirvana through my headphones,” she explained. “But instead I got to eat old pie and kick your ass at cards.”

“Such a sore winner,” he muttered, cracking a little smirk.

She laughed quietly, her fingers finding their way to her necklace. “And sorry if I was...I don’t usually talk about my mom. Not exactly a crowd-pleasing topic. Just on Mother’s Day and my birthday, I...You didn’t have to listen.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t do things I don’t wanna do,” he said, casting her a momentary glance, a small, lopsided smile on his face. It was more genuine than she was prepared for, and she had to look away as her cheeks heated up.

Rising from the table, she made to leave, hoping not to overstay her welcome. “Anyway, thanks. It was the best birthday I’ve had in awhile.”

Running a hand over his mouth, Jess blew out a breath and faced her fully again. “Anytime, Stevens.”

He looked as though he were about to say something more, but she could practically see him swallow it down. Instead, he got up from his seat and switched off the TV. Going over to his side of the apartment, she watched him grab a CD from the top of a small stack on his dresser. She couldn’t quite read the cover, but could see it was filled with shades of black and red.

“How long do you have left on your break?”

Ella looked down at her watch then back up at him. “Still have about twenty minutes.”

He nodded, gesturing to the CD. “I get fifteen percent off at the store, so I picked this up the other day. Just came out. It made me think of you. I thought you might wanna listen?”

“Oh,” she said dumbly, surprised. She nodded. “Yeah, yeah, sure. As long as it’s not jazz.”

“It’s not,” Jess assured her, chuckling.

As he opened his closet and brought out the small stereo, she took a few steps closer, arms crossed. She couldn’t help the fluttering in her chest or the way her cheeks flushed with heat. In all the time she’d known Jess, she couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so anxious around him. Quite so antsy. She almost couldn’t explain the feeling, but it wasn’t one she minded.

“I would’ve shown you last night if I knew it was your birthday,” he mentioned as he pressed play.

As the music started, he suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself. Sit on the bed? On his desk chair? Instead, he leaned on the desktop itself, hands stuffed in his pockets. He regretted the decision already, showing her the music. He’d meant to do it at some point, during one of their friendly book exchanges. But then the air between them had become charged again, and she was about to walk away from the moment. He wanted it to last just a little longer, time with the one person in Stars Hollow he actually enjoyed being with. Even if she didn’t feel quite the same as him, even if she never would.

Ella felt the slight vibrations of the music in the soles of her soles as she stepped closer to the stereo, picking up the CD case from his dresser. She turned it over in her hands. Turn on the Bright Lights by Interpol. It surprised her she hadn’t heard of them before; Lane usually kept her in the know about such things. They must have been very young, very new. But she liked it, the echoing guitars and the drums. Judging from the back cover, the song to which they now listened was simply called “Untitled.”

“They’re good,” she said, putting the case back down. “Different. I like it.”

Jess shrugged. “Figured you would. What with all that sad shit you listen to. The other songs are a little more lively. They’re no Fleetwood Mac, but…”

Walking closer still, she stopped when she was only a couple feet in front of him. Her heart beat with the music, and she swallowed dryly. Something was clicking in her head.

“Jess?”

He looked up, and his brown eyes locked with hers. “Yeah?”

Before she could rethink it, before she could talk herself out of it, before she could silence her heart with her head, she brought a hand to the back of his neck and kissed him. His shock was sudden but brief. Almost immediately, he wound his arms around her waist. And he was kissing back, sweetly, gently at first, then deeper. She was flush against him, smiling into it. The music beat quietly around them, and his grip was warm, and his lips felt exactly right. Ella wanted it to never end, for the moment to last forever, alive, and never cross over and turn to mere memory.

37 notes · View notes

who-is-olivia · 5 years ago

Text

Track 2. Sign of the Times

Harry Styles x OC

Harry meets Olivia and slowly falls in love in the cold London evening. [4.4k]

Genre: fluff

Warnings: substance abuse

March 2012

“Hey Oli, he’s here” Frank calls over the bar stools and Oli descends from the stage. Uncle Jim’s bar is still closed, so it gives the band some privacy to talk along with their manager, Uncle Jim.

“How was the meeting?” she asks Jim, who struggles to walk on his cane and sits on a chair with a thud.

“It was great, they’re really interested in the EPs and the live performances” Olivia smiles encouragingly towards Frank, Gina and Fiona. “But they have a few contingencies”

“What sort of contingencies?” Fiona cuts anxiously.

“Well, after they studied the material you gave, they want to test you out as an opening act for a British band that’ll debut in America this year, they think you hit the same target demo so it’s a no risk deal” he begins, throwing his sunglasses over the table. “However, you’d have to agree to change your image to become more in-sync with the band, and I won’t sugarcoat this... they want to change a lot”

“Like what?”

“Like Frank’ skirts, for a start”

They all protest, except for Frank. “Ok, I’ll do it”

“What?!”

“Guys, it’s a recording deal that already comes with a tour in America, can you imagine how big we’ll get?” he shifts in his seat excitedly, “So what if I can’t wear the skirts on stage, I’ll deal with that later”

Gina taps her nails on the wood agitatedly, “What do you think, Jim? Is it a good deal?”

“I’m not gonna lie, it’s way better than Dirty Hit. It’s hard for an act to get a deal this good so early in their career, I think you should take it”

“Right, then that’s all we need to hear” Frank gets up and pats Jim’s shoulder on his way to the bar. Gina and Fiona follow his steps, getting ready to open the establishment while Olivia stays put, still uneasy.

“I don’t like this”

“I imagined you wouldn’t, but it’s a really good deal, I wish I had one of those when I started”

“I understand, it’s probably good for our first album and stuff but changing the image to suit another brand? I mean, who are we opening for?”

“It’s a boyband called One Direction, they’re getting big in the UK, chances are they’ll get big here and you’ll want to ride that wave when it gets here” he gets up, leaning on the chairs. 40 years touring with a rock band did take its toll on him – that or the drugs.

Later, after their night shift, the four of them make their way back to the Columbia University dorms. Winter is just starting, but it’s still tolerable to walk the streets at night.

“This time next year we’ll have a flat each, imagine that” Fiona taunts Frank.

“Fuck, I wanna live in SoHo” he cries.

“Guys, do you really wanna do this?” Oli lights up a cigarette and frowns uncomfortably, “I checked the band today, they’re pretty clean cut, if we have to live up to that...”

“I checked them too, they seem nice” Fiona replies, taking a drag of her cigarette.

“Oli, you can’t judge someone you never met” Frank turns to her and hugs her shoulders. “Tell you what, we’re going to London next week to sign with the label, we should hit ‘em up and hang out, I bet you’ll change your mind”

On the other side of the Atlantic, Harry’s laying on his couch scrolling through Twitter when Louis walks in with Eleanor after a romantic night out.

“What’s up, curly?”

“Nothing much, hi Els!”

“Hi!” she says slightly before she and Lou disappear in his bedroom.

He drops the phone in his chest and stares at the ceiling. His ears are filled by their muffled giggles and whimpers, the thuds and thumps of two people who are clearly about to fuck. It kills him that not so long ago they were both moving in together and throwing house parties. At one of those occasions, when they were both hammered, Louis pulled him into that same bedroom and kissed him playfully.

Harry didn’t take it playfully. It was no secret that he had a massive crush on his bandmate and when given the opportunity he took it further. So he slammed Louis against the wall and went down on him, taking that first step to explore his sexuality more than he ever did before, but it stopped there. The next morning Lou said he was just messing around, it wasn’t anything serious. And now here he is, fucking his girlfriend a few steps away from where he lays. He can’t stand it. So he takes his car keys and leaves, opting to sleep at Zayn’s place.

Every night is the same, he sleeps at a friend’s to avoid getting his heart slammed under a rock when Lou and Els come back to the flat. One afternoon, he’s getting ready to go to Niall’s when Lou returns alone and on a rush.

“Where are you going?”

“I was just going to Niall’s”

“Niall’s coming with us to meet the opening act” he explains, changing his used shirt for a new one, “did you forget?”

“Uh... absolutely”

“Then come on, we’re late already”

As they rush out, Oli drags her getting ready ritual for as long as she can. She decides to make a very complicated beehive bun with her havana twist braids, putting all her rings in there, finishing up with a heavy smokey makeup. By the time she’s ready to go, Frank’s very irritated. All he did was to put on a dress and a leather jacket.

“Why the long face?” she taunts.

“I know what you’re doing and it’s not nice” he sits behind her with those angry puppy eyes.

“Frank-“

“You’re trying to make an impression and the way you’re doing it might make us lose that deal” he interrupts.

“I would never make us lose the deal, I know how important it is to you” she holds eye contact trying to convey how genuinely she means it. Frank is more than just her brother, he’s her best friend and the only family who hasn’t given up on her, she doesn’t take this lightly. “I do not, however, think you’re looking at the bigger picture, but I can’t just fuck this up, not when I know what’s in stake”

“Alright, come on, make peace” he reaches his arms to her and pulls her to a hug, slowly tumbling her over the bed.

She panics, “Frank, no! My hair!”

“Fuck your hair, I’m trying to make peace here” he laughs it off.

The One Direction boys are the first to arrive at the Clarance, a cozy little pub over at Trafalgar Square. Fiona and Gina arrive next, taking the seats closer to Zayn and Niall. Harry seats a bit distant, still very much immersed on his Twitter feed.

“Where’s the dude with the skirts?” Liam asks them playfully.

“He’s coming with Olivia”

“Who’s Olivia?”

“His sister” Fiona begins, “and they don’t look very much alike so please, don’t ask many questions, they get a bit embarrassed about it”

Harry frowns but ultimately lets the subject fade. He orders a second beer at the bar and when he gets back to the table he’s faced with the late guests greeting everyone from afar. The man in a dress sits closer to everyone in the table, leaving him and the woman in the furthest corner. It’s true, they don’t look exactly alike: Frank is as pale as snow while Olivia’s skin is really dark, but closely examining their faces he can see some similarities like the eyebrows, the chin and the pitch black eyes that don’t seem to absorb any light at all. However, her eyes are the last thing he notices when she sits in front of him.

She looks... intimidating, if he can say so. From hair to toe every bit of her seems meticulously crafted in an over-the-top way that makes her look like royalty, both in its beauty and its exclusivity. He feels like there’s a wall around her he can’t breach, even her posture communicates so. And she’s quiet but not meek, just commensurate. The only time he hears her voice is when she orders her drink then when she thanks the waitress. He’s too intimidated to talk to her but at the same time he can’t focus on anything else.

The table seems agitated in conversation, except from the two of them who’re too distant to take part in any subject, so he tries to take that opportunity and talk to her. At first he stutters but she doesn’t notice, so he tries again.

“You like London?” he asks.

She takes a second to answer, not noticing that the question is directed to her. “Oh, yeah, just a bit too cold and grim for my taste”

“I know, thought the same when I first came here”

“Where are you from?”

“Cheshire, it’s a small farm city, you probably never heard of it”

She chuckles, “I’ve actually been to Cheshire a few months ago”

“No way”

“I went to record some vocals, meet with some friends and stuff. It’s a nice place”

“And you? Where are you from?”

“I’m from the most beautiful city in the world, and I say this in the most unpretentious way” she mocks, biting on her tongue playfully and capturing his attention. “Guess?”

“Hm... Havana?”

“No”

“Fuck’s sake, hm... LA?”

“LA is hideous”

“I don’t know, you don’t have an accent” she laughs at his distress.

“Rio”

His drunken mind struggles to recall where Rio is, but he knows it to be somewhere in the coast of Brazil. “Oh... that’s nice, isn’t there where the Christ statue is?” he asks mimicking the open-arms stance and bumping into Liam.

She giggles out loud for once, “Yeah, that’s the place”

As they continue, the rest of the table becomes less important than their well humored chatter. Slowly, that unreachable facade starts to crumble as he finds talking to her as easy as breathing. He stops at the second beer and forgets to order anything else as he’s entertained by her stories about the band, Rio and her Uncle Jim.

“I’ll just have a smoke outside, do you...?”

“No, but I’ll come with”

They get their coats at the door and stand outside as she lights a long slim hand-rolled cigarette, blowing the smoke away from him.

“How long you’ll be staying?”

“We leave tomorrow, Frank and I were thinking about getting matching tattoos in the morning”

“Can I ask you something that’s absolutely none of my business and if you don’t want to-“

“Just go for it” she cuts.

“Alright... what’s the deal with you and Frank?”

“Oh...” her smile slowly fades and her eyes fall to the ground.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, your friend said you might get embarrassed and I really shouldn’t have asked-”

“No, it’s ok, it’s just kind of a long story” she dismisses, “and most times people aren’t as careful as you, specially with the whole skin color thing”

He nods understandingly. “I see”

“Well, what’s going on is that our dad knocked up two different women at the same time: his wife, who had Frank, and his mistress, who had me. My mom raised me in Rio with her family, she never told me who my father was until he came to see me and he brought Frank. I swear to you I never gave two shits about my father, but-“ she chokes, getting a bit emotional, “but they didn’t let me see Frank, and I just love him more than anything in the world. So my parents made me choose and I chose Frank” she smiles briefly, regaining her posture. “Sorry, I just don’t like to tell this story”

“It’s ok” he tries to soothe, “I have a sister, she’s in college so I haven’t seen her in a while. When we lived at my mum’ she used to drive me crazy, she was so fucking boring with her books and her clever stuff and her bloody cupcakes, now I miss her like crazy. Last month I got a tattoo with her name in Hebrew”

“Why Hebrew?”

“‘Cause it looks like a drawing” she snorts a laughter through her still constricted throat. He laughs along, pretty aware how stupid it is.

She wipes her nose quickly, holding the cigarette away from her face, “That’s brilliant”

“I know, I know” he fakes humility.

Suddenly, Liam and the girls leave with their coats on. “‘ello guys”

“Where are you going?” Harry asks.

“I’m feeling a bit nippy so I’m heading home, I’ll give ‘em a ride. Do you want a ride?” he asks Oli.

“No, thank you” she smiles politely at him.

“Okay, bye guys!”

They watch Liam and the girls get a cab and leave, then shortly after the rest of the group comes through the door, “What’s going on?”

“It’s too quiet in here, we’re going to a bar in Soho” Frank replies handing Olivia her purse, “you coming?”

“Hm... sure” she looks at Harry and he nods.

“Right, you have to get another cab, this one’s full lads” Louis informs and Harry sighs.

“It’s fine, guess we’ll just walk”

“If you say so” they all get inside the car and slam the door, leaving Harry and Olivia behind. Just as the cab leaves, a cold wind blows them in the face.

“Bad idea, bad idea” she sings, rubbing her hands together.

“Hey, give me your hands” she shoves her hands palms up towards him and waits as he fiddles in his pockets, finding a pair of mittens. He dresses them in both her hands and rubs them together until she’s warm. She watches from up close as he holds her fingers earnestly and squeezes them in reassurance, “Better?”

She misses a beat, too distracted to answer right away, “Much better, thanks”

They begin walking towards Trafalgar Square, bumping shoulders all the way to the monument. She takes particular notice of the clumsy way he walks close to her, it’s quite endearing how he scoots closer but is still too shy to walk confidently beside her. When they arrive at the Square, she suddenly stops and looks up to the sky.

“You know what I hate about London?”

He frowns, “The cold?”

“Can’t see the stars”

Harry then looks up to the sky and for the first time actually notices that the sky, when not covered by clouds, is always just a black-brownish color all throughout. He’s never seen stars in London, at least in the part of the town he lives in.

“Too many lights and the pollution, it’s a sign of the times really: you can’t see the beauty behind the outcome of progress. In Rio, anywhere you go there’s just so much sky” he discreetly glances away from the sky and towards her. “If you look up and realize that the small dots are actually massive balls of heated gas you can actually feel the distance between them, it’s some sort of... upside down vertigo. You feel your mind breaking through the atmosphere and the distances all align, it’s quite a sight”

For one brave moment he speaks his mind: “Don’t know about that, but things look pretty good down here too”

She looks back at him and laughs nervously, not knowing how to react to the compliment so she deflects it. “Hope you’re talking about the lions”

“You know I’m not...” he smirks, making his remarkable dimples pop.

Olivia smiles away from him, pacing awkwardly towards him. “You know what? I don’t want to meet them in Soho”

“Neither do I”

“How about we just... take a stroll around the city?”

“Alright, I can do that” he offers his arm and she laces hers with his.

“Wait, can we get one of those big red buses?”

“Sure”

They walk to a nearby bus stop and get on the second store of a big red bus that goes around Westminster and then up to St. Paul’s, passing through all the big tourist attractions.

“You’ve never been to London before?”

“No, but I’ve been to Cheshire” she explains as he smoothly rests his arm over her backboard, “Our old label had a studio in New York but it was too expensive to rent, so Uncle Jim sent us to a bunch of different studios in Chicago, Cheshire, Stockholm and such. He has a lot of friends in the industry so we practically borrowed them”

“Nice”

“It was nice, but the 4 of us were in college so it was a bit troublesome... even more because I met a guy...”

“Oh boy” he mock-gasps.

“Yeah, he was in a small band with his friends from school, they were recording an EP in the same studio as us and we he hit it just like that” she snaps her fingers, “but it lasted just as long as we were there. When I came back to New York we never spoke again... but I can’t stop thinking about it, it’s so-“

“Frustrating?” he guesses and she nods vehemently.

“Yes!”

“Yeah, I know what it’s like. You share so much of your intimate life, you become vulnerable with someone who doesn’t think that’s important” he finishes, staring at the distant horizon of the Thames as they cross the Lambeth Bridge. “And then he just brings his girlfriend over and have sex with her everyday to remind you that he didn’t want you, and you can’t tell that to anyone because you have an image to maintain”

She watches him quietly return from his daydream and whispers: “I’m so sorry, I had no idea”

He sighs, “It’s alright, just needed to get that off my chest”

She measures her words for a moment, deciding to just tell him everything. “When I met Matty, I had been struggling with my sexuality. I had dated a few girls but I wasn’t so sure if I wanted the same with boys. But I met him, and I was mad about him and I thought he was perfect for my first time. After that, we never talked again and I felt really stupid... I showed him the most vulnerable side of me and he didn’t even care, I was just a nice shag” Harry frowns sadly, nodding along in understanding. “And I had a few other affairs after him, but it was the first time and I felt so awful about it, I don’t know-“

“I do. I’ve been pining up for Lou ever since we first met, and like... I though it was just friendship but it’s not, I don’t feel that way. It’s not the first time I’ve felt like that about a boy, I do like boys and girls, but I’ve never told anyone – except maybe my sister” she chuckles briefly. “Anyway, one day he just kisses me, out of the blue, and takes me to his bedroom and I think this is my chance, and I straight up give him a gobby-“

“What’s a gobby?”

“It’s hmm-“ he leans closer to her, “a blowjob”

“Oh”

“Yeah, I did something I had never done before, I had never gotten that... intimate with someone. And when I did, the next day he said it was all a joke” he chokes a bit, “when it wasn’t a joke to me. But I can’t just not feel...”

She holds his hand, “I know what you mean... it’s like we know we’ve been in this situation before but we’re just stuck...”

He nods, ponderative. “You know, I don’t want to talk about this anymore”

“Yeah, this turned into a terrible conversation way too quick”

“I want a drink”

They drop at a little marketplace in Lambeth and choose to buy a bottle of wine. As she doesn’t enjoy red wine, they settle for a bottle of white and sit on one of the barricades at the margins of the Thames.

“You know what, Olivia-”

She snorts as the wine’s already working its magic, “Don’t call me that”

“It’s your name”

“But nobody calls me, it’s appalling!” she replies dramatically.

He leans over her folded leg, trying to balance the wine bottle, “What should I call you, then?”

“Oli is fine”

“Alright”

“How would you like me to call you?” she gestures towards him.

“I don’t know, people call me all sorts of thing: curly, curls, Harry, Hazza”

“I like Hazza, it’s quite inventive”

“Be my guest”

“Alright Hazza, you were saying?”

He frown, “What was I saying?”

“I have no idea” she laughs, falling over his shoulder and leaving a rim of makeup on his jacket.

He tries to recompose himself before talking again, “I think I was trying to tell you that I’m really excited about this tour, specially now that I’ve met you”

“Awn” she melts, “you’re so sweet... but I don’t know if I want to tour with you guys”

“Why not?”

“It’s just that the label is making some huge changes in our image for us to tour with you, I don’t know if I want to go through that and make a name for myself pretending to be someone I’m not...”

“But think about this” he tries to focus her eyes on his, “we’re kind of big here, and when we go to America we’ll get BIG big and so will you. Once you get that big, you can do whatever the fuck you want, you just have to go through this little hurdle and then the world is yours”

“I like that but I don’t know if that’s how it’ll play out”

“If it doesn’t then at least you’ll have a lot of fun, eh?” he taunts her with that big bright smile. “Come on”

“Haz...”

“Please, come on... I really wanna tour with you” he scoots closer to her, “I’ve been talking to you all night and I feel like we haven’t talked enough”, at this proximity, she has to turn her face away as to not look him in the eye. “And I think you feel the same”

“I... might feel the same” he bites his cheeks victoriously as she turns back to look him in the eye for the first time this close, “and I might take that tour but I can say anything for sure when I’m drunk”

“You’re not that drunk”

“No? Then why do I want to kiss you so bad?” she blurts and he raises his eyebrow with a dimply smile.

He wastes no time with a cheeky reply, just closes the small gap between them feeling sparks fly in his stomach. Her lips are cold but very soft and very patient against his, she doesn’t deepen it right away just savors that innocent touch. She cups both of his cheeks as he hugs her waist closer to him, feeling her chest against his rapidly rising one. He deepens the kiss by leaning over her and touching their tongues in a slightly sensuous fashion, making their exchange gain a lot of pace. Her hands slide from his cheeks to his chest, pushing him back a bit. When their lips part he can feel a tingle as if there’s electricity coursing through them.

She leans her forehead against his and for a moment they say nothing, just breath into each other. Before any of them can say anything, Harry leans and kisses her cheek earnestly, caressing the other with his free hand as she rests her head against the crook of his neck.

“You smell so good...” she whispers against his skin, making him giggle at the spontaneous commentary.

“Thanks, I try my best”

“You’re doing a marvelous job” she mocks, getting a grip on the wine bottle they’ve been sharing for a while now. “It’s empty already?”

“Yeah, I might have spilled a bit in the river while you were snogging me”

“Do you call that ‘snogging’?”

“How would you call that?”

“Making out?”

“See, I have a lot to learn, that’s why you have to come to the tour”

“Do you think you won’t go snogging other girls and guys when I’m on tour with you?” she teases him.

“I might even snog someone, but this” he pulls her closer, “I never had this with anyone... and I don’t know if I’ll have it again anytime soon”

“You’re not saying that just ‘cause I told you my sob story earlier, are you?”

“I told you mine too, you didn’t want to kiss me because of that” they laugh.

Eventually, they grow tired of the cold and of having to buy cheap booze on shady corner streets, so Harry walks her back to the hotel. The lights of the main hall are already out, save for one above the front desk where a night manager keeps watch. She calls the elevator and turns to him one last time.

“I’d invite you upstairs but there’s three other people in the bedroom so it might not be as romantic as the Thames”

“Yeah, I think we should call it a night”

“I guess I’ll see you around” she paces forward, giving him silent permission to lean in and kiss her goodbye. He cups her cheek, gently letting go of her lips just as the elevator arrives.

“Goodnight Oli”

“Sleep tight” she replies, getting into the elevator and disappearing into the night.

By the time Harry arrives at his flat the sun is almost up, this time he walks past Louis’ door without even noticing its existence. He crashes into the bed and recalls the events of the night, rolling over the mattress until he can properly rest his head. Finally after weeks of martyrdom he can stop crying over someone who won’t give him the affection he craves and just rejoice on the one he actually gets.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and groans for a moment as he recalls he did not write down her number. In this day and age when he can access people instantly it is tortuous to not be able to just reach out immediately to the one person that’s on his mind. It builds inside his chest like a dark cloud, peaking his anxiety all over again.

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jackalopingintothevoid · 7 years ago

Text

AKTJD? Part 2

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 TBA

He dreamed of a grassy plain. A bright, sunny day. He was warm. He never looked behind him, but he knew there was a lake there. Likewise, he couldn’t see past the hill in front of him, but he knew there lay a shining city.

There was a woman in front of him in breezy summer clothing, her skin dark and her hair darker. She called his name and he ran, his little legs pushing him as fast as he could go, straight into her waiting arms. She embraced him, easily encompassing his small body in her softness. She kind of smelled like soap.

She said something kind to him, and he smiled and said something kind back. Wriggling in the hug, he looked up at her face, meeting her large, dark eyes. Her nose was straight, no bumps or ridges or evidence of past breaks, and her thick, full lips were arranged into a loving smile.

He smiled back, happy and carefree, and rested his head on her shoulder. He was content to stay right here, loved and safe.

Alouette was not happy. She’d been pleased at first, glad that Mochou had reigned in her natural curiosity and called her to deal with a potential threat.

... A potential threat that was human, yes, and had been in danger of hypothermia, but they could’ve dropped him off at a hospital and left it at that. But nooo, they had to wrestle this guy indoors and strip off his tight bodysuit and kick her and Sampoorna out of their room because their shared bed was the only one big enough to put him in. The stranger was absolutely massive.

Not to mention disturbing everyone else. Fiona was as suspicious as Alouette, thankfully, but she wasn’t being as vocal about it. She’d heard a mix of English, Arabic and German coming from her room earlier, so it sounded like she’d told her parents about it. Davis was mostly worried, sweet man that he was, and Changming, much like his sister, was mostly incorrigibly curious.

(Alouette thanked her lucky stars Riley got laid last night. They’d be insisting on turning the whole incident into a video for the group’s channel if they were here, and Alouette was not prepared to deal with that level of flippancy just yet.)

Speaking of Alouette’s beautiful wife, Sampoorna had taken one look at this man and immediately her compassion was overflowing. She’d quickly activated Tenzin and the Dumb AI had assessed the huge man’s condition and provided advice. Not only was he dangerously cold, he’d also caught a cold-- he was lucky that was all-- and had neither slept nor eaten in a couple days at least. Changming had immediately set to brewing sweetened white tea for him, while Sampoorna worked on a pot of that Jewish Penicillin her fathers used to make her when she was small.

Placing her hands on her wife’s curved hips, Alouette almost chuckled. She was glad Sampo had the body she’d always wanted, and she was certainly beautiful like this, but sometimes the veteran missed being able to wrap both of her large hands around her wife’s once-slight hips so her fingers touched. She'd knew it was silly, but she'd always felt proud whenever she did it-- she didn't know anyone else with hands big enough to hold their girlfriend's whole pelvis! Today being their anniversary had only highlighted everything that had changed over the years, leaving her nostalgic for the time when they’d been dating.

The longing didn’t linger. Nothing compared to Sampo finally feeling as beautiful as she was.

Suddenly swivelling in her wife’s grip, the taller woman’s regal features peered down at Alouette. “I know why you fret, hasiinaa. He is a stranger most imposing. But we must not let our hardships make us unkind.”

“What reason do we have to trust he will not harm us? We have all lost much, Sampo, and have still more to lose.”

It shook her to the core, sometimes, just how much they’d managed to claim back from the devastation of their lives. How these broken people had reached out to each other and made a family with their pieces. She would never take for granted what they had built here-- and she would fight to the death for it.

Sampoorna bent at the waist, graceful as a dancer, and kissed Alouette’s violet hair.

“I know,” she whispered, and she meant it, “but he is here now, and he needs our help. We will be kind to him as we have been to each other, and perhaps,” another kiss, to her forehead this time, “appearances will be proven deceptive.”

It was truly incredible, Alouette thought, that her beloved could speak such poetic English with such multitudinous depths, to both chasten and woo her so thoroughly, yet regularly mixed up ‘left’ and ‘right’ and could never remember the word for ‘fruit’.

“Main tumase pyaar karata hoon.” She knew her pronunciation was terrible but--

“Je t’aime.” Sampoorna’s was terrible too.

Warmth. That was the first thing he became aware of as he drifted awake. It was a sweet, slow ascent to consciousness, comfortable and weightless. He was wrapped in softness, and he burrowed in further, relishing in it.

The next thing he noticed was that he was naked. It didn’t bother him. He was warm and everything against his skin was soft. It felt so good just to be lying down, and if not for the pain of hunger and the congestion in his chest and head this would be bliss.

Opening his eyes, he assessed the room. Immediately, a headache throbbed behind his eyes. He ignored it. What he saw was... unfamiliar. It seemed to be some kind of personalised quarters, but it was filled with so much extraneous... stuff. He couldn’t begin to name at least half of it. Who needed all of this?

... How did he get here?

Despite the weakness in his limbs, he managed to push himself into a sitting position (his heavy head had not wanted to leave the overstuffed pillow) and try to get his bearings as the dizziness waned.

He needed to find a way out of here. He had to go. He didn’t know why or to where, there was just an urgency. He tried to remember where he’d been trying to go before he passed out (earlier, yesterday, he didn’t even know how long he’d been down for) but he only remembered being just as confused outside. Trying and failing to find food and shelter, his head full of survival tactics meant for the wilderness that did him no good in an urban environment.

He didn’t remember how he’d gotten onto the streets. He didn’t remember where he’d been before those few days, or what he’d been doing a week ago. Or a month ago. Or a year. The war had ended some months ago-- no, five years ago. He was sure of that. What had he been doing after the war? What had he done during the war? He didn’t remember. Why didn’t he remember? What happened to him? He could feel his breathing quickening along with his heart rate, but it was a detached awareness through the actual panic causing it.

The door opened, and someone poked their head through.

Dark hair, pulled back into a bun with a dangling accessory. Glasses shielding dark eyes. The winter coat was gone, replaced with a thick shirt and pants that looked soft. His breathing started to even out. He remembered this civilian.

“You’re up!” Their voice was brighter than it had been, but they weren’t excessively loud. They smiled cheerfully and came fully into the room, revealing a steaming mug in their (soft) hand. His gaze lingered on it, acutely aware of his thirst, but he pulled his focus back to the civilian.

They’d been helpful before. Maybe they could help him now.

She’d been pleased to see him conscious, but now Mochou was a little worried. He’d looked a bit wild-eyed when she came in-- though he had woken up naked in a strange room so maybe that was to be expected-- but now those piercing eyes were staring very intently at her. Gods, didn’t it hurt to sit so rigidly, especially ill as he was?

“How are you feeling? Ó, en, do you remember me? From this morning?” She dared to take a few steps closer to the bed, and those unnerving eyes followed her. It was his pupils, she realised. They were smaller than they should be in the low light. Was he panicking but hiding it? The much smaller woman immediately stopped in her tracks.

“Nèi ge, you broke into our garage this morning. To, en, to get out of the snow.” Nothing. He just kept staring. Wait, did he understand English? Had that ever become clear? Perhaps he was entirely deaf, or so frightened he didn’t care what she was saying. Biting her lip, she tried one last time. “My name is-- ”

“Guan Mochou.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, shocked both by the suddenness of speech after such tense silence, and by that voice. She’d never heard anything like it before. Hell, she was pretty sure she’d felt it rumbling in her abdomen.

Her train of thought completely derailed, she stammered, flustered, before awkwardly falling silent.

One spontaneous recollection and he’d already managed to make this awkward. Talking wasn’t exactly his greatest skill, and he found himself lacking words to follow up with. The silence stretched on for almost a minute-- until his self-control failed and the growing pressure in his chest and throat made him splutter into a painful coughing fit.

“Ó!” Mochou suddenly surged forward, arms thrust out in front of them, offering the mug. It nearly made him jump. “Changming made you tea! That’s-- Changming is my little brother. Or, en, he’s not that little really. Please don’t tell him I said that or he’ll start making jokes again.”

After hovering for a moment, they suddenly turned and put the mug on the tiny table next to the bed. Mochou was full of nervous energy, backing away a little and fidgeting on the spot. Another abrupt motion-- were all civilians this erratic?-- and they were talking again.

“Ha, I can almost hear him! ‘Hello there, I’m Changming, have you met my big sister? She’s hard to miss at 50 feet!’”

She was bubbling with nervous laughter that faded into quiet at his lack of response. He didn’t get the joke. He understood the wordplay, he just didn’t see how it was funny.

He looked to the mug again, and picked it up off the table. Remembering at the last second to give a belated “Thank you,” he took a much needed drink and was surprised by how it tasted. It was warm, mild and sweet, milky yet fragrant. He thought tea was supposed to be bitter. (When did he drink bitter tea, and why couldn’t he recall?) A soft sigh left him as it warmed its way down to his empty stomach, and he gratefully drained the rest of the cup.

Oh, that was good. He realised his eyes were closed and opened them again, only to find his perspective of the room had shifted. It took him a second to realise he’d leaned back against the headboard.

“No, don’t-- ” the civilian interrupted as he moved to sit up again, “just relax, okay? You’re not well.” Her hand reached out to rest on his bare skin, and he allowed it. He shouldn’t have, but he did. He vividly remembered how good her hands had felt on his face, and it felt just as good where it was.

She squeezed his shoulder (that shouldn’t have been such a rush) and started gently rubbing her thumb back and forth. His heavy eyelids slipped closed again.

“It’s okay. We’re gonna help you get better. The whole family. Sampoorna’s making her chicken soup for you, and she says hers is the best because she makes it with love. You’re very lucky!”

Another squeeze. “Nèi ge, what’s your name?”

That caught him off guard. He stiffened under Mochou’s hand, though she didn’t pull away. His name... ? Did he have even that?

A woman standing on a grassy plain, calling out to him...

“John.” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “My name is John.”

#halo #anyone know this john doe?#john 117 #master chief

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