#like just say you don’t want the old man in the band anymore don’t throw some stupid reason into it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

andvys · 2 years ago

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We’ll burn the sky | E.M.

Warnings: none yet, this is just the teaser!

Pairings: rockstar!Eddie Munson x rockstar!fem!reader

Summary: Eddie left his life in Hawkins behind to live the one he always dreamed about but there is a missing piece in his life and in his almost perfect band; you.

Author's note: Daisy Jones & the six inspired me to band au fic, so here we are. I hope you guys will like this! Also shoutout to @littledemondani thank you for helping me choose the title and for letting me rant about my ideas, you’re amazing

“They don’t want us.”

“What?!”

“They don’t want us! They don’t even want to record the album!”

After months of pouring tears, blood and sweat into this album, their record label suddenly decided that the songs aren't good enough, that the band isn't good enough, that Eddie isn't good enough.

“We worked our asses off– what do you mean they don’t want us?!” Jeff cries, throwing his hands up as he follows Eddie, who almost ran into an old man on the sidewalk, quickly apologizing to him before he keeps on walking.

“They said that we’re not good enough!” Eddie mumbles in annoyance, “told me to come back when we got something better to offer.”

“Not good enough? Sam loved our songs!” Gareth says as he looks at Eddie in confusion.

“He did but apparently something is missing, the label refuses to record the album,” Eddie sighs as he halts in his tracks, placing his hands on his hips, he looks up at the blue sky and lets out a long sigh, “they said some.. some freshness is missing, whatever that is supposed to mean. Told me that there’s enough bands like ours out there already. They want something different, something new. It's too 'old fashioned'.”

Gareth stares at his best friend, shaking his head, he plops down on a bench, running his hand through his messy hair, “freshness?” he mumbles, furrowing his brows.

Eddie clenches his jaw as he thinks of his conversation with their producer.

‘You’re good, amazing even, your voice is great but there’s a missing piece.’

“Missing piece,” Eddie huffs, shaking his head, “he said that there’s a missing piece.”

Jeffs stares at him, “like.. like what?”

Eddie shrugs as the doubt begins to creep in. They all left their life in Hawkins behind, dropped everything to come out here to Los Angeles with the goal of becoming big, everyone laughed at them, told them that it would never work out, that their dreams are ridiculous but things went well, for a while.

All four of them worked hard, they worked extra hours, saved up enough for money for them to last out here for a few months. Eddie wrote the song texts and they put all their blood and sweat into each song, hours and hours of rehearsals paid off and after a long search for a producer who was willing to work with them, they found Sam, who instantly took a liking to the boys, he gave them a chance, arranged some gigs for them before they were finally given the chance to make the album but suddenly, something is missing and they aren’t good enough anymore.

“I don’t know, I think nothing is missing,” Gareth mumbles, “the band is perfect as it is.”

Eddie sighs, “I don’t know.. maybe there is something missing,” he mumbles, eyes falling on the bar across the street, “I need a drink.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They knock back one drink after the other, listening to the awful karaoke performances and making fun of all the singing drunk people, a distraction is what they all needed after the stressful past months and who knows, maybe they’ll find inspiration here, though Eddie doubts it.

As entertaining as it is, Eddie can’t concentrate on it for too long. His mind goes back to the conversation with Sam. If he refuses to make the album then they can pack their things and go back home to Hawkins, pick up where they left off. Eddie would work at the garage again, Gareth and Jeff would try to get back into the community college there, Johnny would work with his dad again, they would give up their dreams and go back into a town they wanted to leave behind.

Sure, Eddie has Wayne, all his friends and girlfriend there but Hawkins is a part of his past, something he doesn’t even want to go back to, not even for his loved ones. He is fine to go back for holidays or birthdays but that’s all.

This is what he wants, he wants the band, he wants the concerts, the tours, the life he always dreamed of.

But what choice does he have if the album won’t even get a chance?

Fear fills him, anxiety takes hold of him and his hope begins to dwindle.

The music stops and only the loud chatter in the bar fills the room for a moment. Eddie stares down at his drink, ignoring the laughter of his friends.

He downs the rest of his drink, running his hand through his messy curls, he leans back and turns to look at the stage to find a young girl reaching for the microphone. After all the old drunk men, the girl is the first female to sing tonight. He can’t see her face yet but he recognizes the band shirt, he has a similar one lying in his closet, somewhere. Clad in a short leather skirt and chunky boots, she already looks like she belongs on a stage but he doesn’t have much faith in her voice, after all, karaoke bars are just for drunk people who want to have fun, right?

“Damn,” Gareth whistles, “she’s hot,” he says, staring at the girl.

Jeff and Johnny chuckle but agree with him nonetheless.

“Look at her, man,” he says to Eddie, who only shakes his head, “totally your type.”

“I have a girlfriend,” Eddie mumbles, glaring at his friend.

Gareth rolls his eyes, “whatever,” he mumbles, not even hiding his distaste for his best friend’s girlfriend. He never liked her and he never will.

The One I Love by R.E.M starts playing and Eddie’s friends immediately start to bop their heads to the music. Staring at the girl with curious looks on their faces. Eddie chuckles at them, shaking his head.

The smile falls from his lips and his eyes widen a little, both the lyrics and your voice catch his attention. He looks away from the awestruck expressions of his friends and turns to look at the singing girl, you. His breath hitches in his throat when he looks at you, truly looks at you.

Your eyes are closed and you hold the mic tightly in one hand as you sing with the most beautiful voice he has ever heard, it’s soft yet husky and low; it’s just perfect. You look like you’re in your own little world, like only you exist.

A girl in front of the stage whistles and you crack a smile as you open your eyes to look at her and the other girls around her who are no doubt your friends.

Eddie’s heart makes a weird jump in his chest when you look his way as you sing. Eddie can’t help but stare at you, he is in awe. The way you sing, the way you hold yourself, the way your voice seems to get prettier and prettier to him.

He can’t tear his eyes away from you, you sing as though it’s the only thing you are meant to do, like this stage is meant for you and the people are here just for you. You own the stage, you own the heart of all the people watching you, you stole it with just your voice.

“Holy shit,” Jeff mumbles, he stares at the way you move your body as you sing, “she’s a hot piece of ass.”

Eddie gives him a disapproving look but then his eyes widen when he looks back at you.

Piece. A missing piece.

This is the missing piece.

Your voice.

Eddie blinks as Sam’s words echo in his mind.

He looks back at you, watching your performance in awe. He is impressed by the way you look and sound like a professional, like you are already a famous singer and how you seem to capture everyone’s attention in this room.

Your performance is effortless, there is not a single pretentious thing about you, you are just a natural. You are a star, born to be one.

The people in this bar cheer for you, whistling and clapping even as you get off the stage and your friends embrace you.

“You’re a star, baby!” one of your friends yells with a slur in her voice as she smacks her lips against your cheek.

“Damn, I wanna kiss her too,” Jeff mumbles as he watches you with dreamy eyes.

A smile tugs at Eddie’s lips as he stares at you, you blush and giggle as one of the drunk performers from before pretends to ask for an autograph. You wave him off with a chuckle before you make your way towards the bar.

“That was one hell of a performance,” Gareth says with an impressed look on his face.

“Yeah,” Jeff mumbles, “do you think that she’s maybe.. I don’t know, a singer already? We’re in L.A. after all, there’s plenty of singers we don’t know.”

Johnny shrugs, “I don’t know–” he stops, raising his brows as he watches Eddie get up and walk away from his friends, “but we’re about to find out.”

Gareth and Jeff follow his gaze to see him walking towards you.

You smile at the bartender, thanking him after he takes your order. Your heart is still pounding in your chest from your little performance. It took you a lot of courage to sing in front of such a crowd, your friends did a good job at convincing you and cheering you on. You were nervous and anxious but the moment the music started and you began to sing, you forgot everything and everyone around you.

You lean against the counter, smoothing down your skirt a little and brushing through your messy hair when someone comes up next to you.

“Hi.”

You raise your head and you feel as though you have been punched in your stomach, your breath is stolen away and goosebumps arise on your skin as you lock eyes with the prettiest chocolate brown eyes you have ever seen in your life.

He grins, showing off his pearly whites. He stretches his arm out, offering you his hand to shake, “I’m Eddie.”

A small smile appears on your face, you take his hand, ignoring the way his touch seems to make your heart flutter in your chest. You tilt your head, squinting your eyes as you stare at him. You have seen him before, not up close but.. Oh!

“Eddie,” you smile, “from Corroded Coffin, right?”

His eyes widened in surprise, lighting up, “you know my band?” he asks, still not letting go of your hand.

“Yes,” you say, licking your lips as you stare at the tattoos on his arm, “you played at the twilight zone last weekend, I was there with my friends. You’re good,” you smile, “amazing even.”

Eddie blushes, smiling at your words, “thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” you chuckle as you see the flushed cheeks.

He finally pulls his hand back, laughing awkwardly, “uh so, I think you’re amazing, your voice is pretty– pretty fucking good!”

You smile at him as you look into his pretty eyes, “you think so?”

“Yeah, I totally think so,” he grins, “that’s uh– that’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods.

He doesn’t know what comes over him but he can’t help but check you out. It isn’t just your voice that caught his attention it’s also– No, Eddie. Don’t go there, don’t go there. He looks away for a moment and takes a deep breath.

“Do you do that for a living or something?” he asks, “I mean, singing.”

You shake your head, “no..” you mumble.

He nods, trying not to stare at your lips as he looks back at you, “would you like to do that for a living?” he asks, tilting his head as he looks into your eyes, noticing the pretty color; his favorite color as he just realized.

You furrow your brows and shrug, “I mean, I would love to. I-I grew up with music. I sing and play bass."

Eddie raises his brows, “you play bass?”

“Mhm.”

Wow.

Not only are you an excellent singer, you also play one of his favorite instruments.

“That’s.. that’s amazing!”

You chuckle. Your eyes trail down to his hands, eying the many rings on his fingers.

“So uh– you know, my band might be missing a member,” Eddie says as he takes a step closer to you, leaning his elbow against the counter, “and you are really talented so…”

Normally, Eddie wouldn’t make an offer like that, he was content with the band and he wasn’t interested in having any new band members— especially another singer but he is desperate and his chances of becoming a rockstar are getting smaller every day but something tells him that you and your voice are the key to success— hopefully.

You blink in surprise, “you’re looking for another band member?”

He shrugs, sighing, “we weren’t looking but apparently something about our music is not good enough and the label is about to drop us. We need something new.. something that might make our music better— don’t get me wrong, I think it’s good already but apparently not everyone thinks so.”

A smirk appears on your face, “oh, so… you want me to save your band?”

He rolls his eyes playfully, giving you a coy smile, “I guess?”

“Aren’t you a heavy metal band?” you ask, skeptically, “I do rock music, not heavy metal.”

“I mean, we lean more towards rock right now, so..” he says, shrugging.

You raise your brows, crossing your arms over your chest, you shrug, “I don’t know, what am I gonna be? A background singer?” you ask, “background bass player? I’m not interested in being in your shadow.”

“No…. we just need another singer.”

“The lead singer wants another singer?” you ask in confusion, “who would want that?” you chuckle, shaking your head.

“I want that,” he shrugs, “I play guitar and I sing so I have no problem with sharing the spotlight.”

“Really?” you laugh, “you don’t mind sharing the spotlight, why is that so hard to believe?”

He chuckles, “listen Sweetheart, I would never ever make an offer like this to just anyone but I’m really desperate here, I really want to make this album and I’m willing to add another singer to the mix, your voice is fucking beautiful and something tells me that you could.. make things better so… are you interested in joining the best band in the world?”

The smile on your face gives him the answer he was hoping for. And just like that, his confidence is back.

This isn’t over yet, not for him and not for the band.

Corroded Coffin is gonna go big and Eddie’s dreams will come true, he just knows it, he can see it, in your eyes.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie munson

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rippeanuts1950-2000 · 2 months ago

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i hate u i love u

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Chapter 3)

He never flirted with her first.

Oh sure, Corey flirted with her on a daily basis but that was when she was winning an argument, not because she was just minding her own business. What is his deal? Is he trying to get her to let her guard down? Well tough luck, he lost that privilege three years ago.

These are the thoughts running through Laney’s head as she does stock check in the back. Remind her again why she took this job? It is a miracle enough that she got hired, considering her history with Corey but a part of her wonders why she still took it even though she doesn’t hang out with Corey anymore.

Mostly she knows it was for nostalgia. This shop was where she got her first bass. She remembers how six year old her held Corey’s hand as they tried to find the perfect instrument for her. Mr Riffin was so patient with them, especially Corey because he kept pointing out instruments that he thought looked cool to Laney.

(“We have to find you the coolest instrument, Lanes.” He had said. “Why Core?” Laney had asked. “Because you’re the coolest person I know!” Corey had answered. She’s pretty sure that after that moment she gained her crush on Corey.)

Laney shakes her head of the memory. It’s weird to think about it, the time before Grojband. Before they stopped being friends. The inner child in her misses it.

Whatever, what’s done is done.

Speaking of things being done, she’s almost done noting down stock which means she’s gonna have to face Corey again. Sometimes she wonders what would happen if she quit.

*****

“That was fast.” Corey says when she steps out to the front. “We don’t have much stuff in the back.” Laney responds, refusing to look at him. “Did you finish what I asked you to do?” Corey nervously scratches the back of his neck. “So the funny thing is, I didn’t do that. Instead I wrote more lyrics to my song.” He answers. Laney scoffs. Well at least he didn’t try to lie to her.

“So the one time I need you to NOT write lyrics, you end up writing lyrics.” She snaps. Corey throws his hands up in a “so sue me” kind of way. “The words started flowing and my inspiration was going wild!” He argues. For some reason, his words make Laney want to yell at him more. “But you couldn’t have that when I was still part of the band?” She says bitterly. Honestly this sort of thing shouldn’t affect her as much as it does. But the fact that he started taking writing lyrics seriously and actually stopped relying on the diary after she left has always left a bad taste in her mouth.

Corey glares at her. “Oh this again? For the last time, I didn’t have inspiration back then! I was thirteen, stupid, and wanted our band to get big so that I could share our music with the world!” He exclaims.

Laney slams her hands down on the register counter. “And what changed? Cause last I checked you did have inspiration from Trina’s diary entries. How do you have inspiration now all of a sudden?” She’s screaming at Corey at this point but honestly she doesn’t care. “I just do okay!” Corey says, crossing his arms. “Oh my god, could you give me an actual reason instead of that? You do this everytime I ask!” She snaps. Corey stomps over to the register, looking ready to yell at her like a mad man. Good, cause Laney will yell right back. “Did it ever occur to you that you leaving might have been my inspiration? Now that I don’t have you breathing down my neck about lyrics every five seconds, I know how to write lyrics without the diary.” He answers, and even though he’s not yelling Laney can sense the anger in his voice.

Laney shoves him away from her. At some point since he got over to the cash register he had somehow managed to get in her face. “I only lectured you so much about lyrics because you never tried hard enough to write GOOD lyrics on your own and you ALWAYS relied on Trina’s diary. And then like two minutes before we had to perform, you always made us drop everything to steal the stupid diary despite the fact I always told you to do it ahead of time. If anything, I was the reason we got anything done.” She growls, jabbing a finger against his chest. Corey scowls. “You held us back!” He yells. Laney freezes.

Did he just?

Oh this dumbass.

“I held the band back? Riffin, that is the biggest load of bull shit that has ever come out of your mouth. I’m the reason why Grojband fucking exists. I was the one who told you we should start a band. I was the one who asked Kin and Kon to join because you were scared they would say no despite the fact that we had been taking music classes with them since we were seven. I was the one who booked us our first gig. I was the one who helped you come up with the name! What did you do? Write bad lyrics and criticize me when I had valid objections. Held the band back, my ass. If anything, that was you!” Laney screams. Thank god Mr Riffin wasn’t in the shop that moment, she would have been fired for sure.

“Lanes, I-” Corey tries to say something but Laney cuts him off. “Shut up, I don’t want to hear it. And you lost the right to call me Lanes three years ago.” She says, ducking down and pulling her headphones and her lyrics folder out her backpack. She crams the headphones over her head, turns on Paramore, and pulls out the lyrics for i hate u, i love u. It’s been way too long since she last worked on it.

Out of the corner of her eye Laney can see Corey watching her as she writes, an apologetic look on his face. He sees her looking at him apparently, because after a few seconds of subtly glancing at him, he mouths “I’m sorry.” at her.

Whatever, what’s done is done and she’s gonna make sure the Newmans win the Battle Of The Bands.

*****

“What did you do?”

Corey glances haphazardly at Kin who is currently trying to play god with fusing genes or something at his little office space in Corey’s garage. Honestly Corey’s not even sure he cares to know what he’s doing after how he acted yesterday. “A lot of things.” Corey mumbles, rolling over on the couch. Kon, who is chilling on the floor in front of the couch eating cheese and chips for some reason, hands him a bag of chips. “Did Laney reject the Battle Of The Bands bet?” He asks. Corey takes the bag unceremoniously. “Nope, she said yes.” Corey says.

Kin lifts up his goggles and swivels his chair towards him. “How'd you mess up with her this time?” He asks, pulling out a notepad and a pen, ready to take notes on his friend’s issue. Sometimes Corey thinks Kin is convinced he’s a mad scientist/licensed therapist. Only one of those things is true. Unfortunately for Corey, he can not afford a real therapist so Kin is all he’s got.

“Let’s see, not only did I flirt with her unprompted, the next thing I did after flirting with her was get into an argument with her. And what does my brilliant brain decide to say when I’m losing the argument? That she held the band back.” Corey lists off. Kon starts gagging on a piece of cheese he had been eating while Kin’s pen explodes because he’s gripping it too tightly.

“YOU TOLD HER WHAT?!?” The twins scream at him. Kin grabs Corey by the shoulders and starts shaking him. “Corey, you idiot! Laney was the original heart and soul of Grojband! Without her we almost fell apart, don’t you remember?” Kin rants. If Corey wasn’t being manhandled by him, he would have yelled at Kin.

Of course he remembers, he almost broke the band up because of it. Making music without Lanes sucked. He never thought he would miss her constant reminders to start writing lyrics soon or they were gonna be in deep trouble, but he did. Kin and Kon were great but he had known Laney since they were in kindergarten. She was the first person to believe in him outside of his dad and Trina(back when she was Katrina and not Trina). If it hadn’t been for Kin and Kon telling him that they should at least try and make music without Lanes did he realize that breaking the band up was a stupid idea. Now the band is as strong as it was before, just missing a bass player. Both in reality and in their hearts.

“I know, it was stupid and dumb and I regret every word I said. Except for the flirting, that I stand by.” Corey says, once Kin has stopped shaking him. Kon groans. “Corey, that’s not the point. You still said it and that probably lowered her opinion of us, again.” He says, shaking his head in disappointment. “If you love her, why do you act like this?”

Corey opens his mouth to argue but then closes it. “I…I don’t know.” He admits. This snaps Kin back from his quiet ramblings about blue haired idiots. He picks up his notepad and gets a new pen from out of his pocket. “Let’s dig deeper into that, shall we? Now I understand you and Miss Penn had been friends for years before the incident in 9th grade.” He says, tapping the pen on his pad. “Yes, Kin, we were. Why are you acting like this is something you don’t know?” Corey grouses.

“Restating it allows me to understand your mind a bit more which will make it easier for me to excavate it. Anyway, before the incident in 9th grade did you realize your feelings about Ms Penn?” Kin asks, waving Corey off. “No, it wasn’t until after she left did I even start to think about feeling that way towards her.” Corey says, picking at his nails. He really needs to repaint them. “Good, good. So when she left the band and stopped being your best friend, did it feel like a break up?” Kin continues. “Dude, you know he felt like it was a break up. We had to drag Corey out of his room because of how bad it got.” Kon cuts in. “Ugh, Kon you just ruined my dramatic ‘this is why you act this way’ speech! Thanks a lot.” Kin replies tersely.

“Your what now?” Corey tries to ask before Kin shushes him. “What I was going to ask after the break up question was going to be some questions about the Ewmans and how you felt after she made friends with them. But since that’s ruined, I’ll just get straight to the point. Corey, you subconsciously want Laney to hurt the way you did when she stopped being your best friend. In order to do that you hurt her verbally in hopes that she’ll feel the way you felt back then.” Kin explains.

Corey blinks. That explains so much. “So how do I stop acting like this?” He asks. Kin shrugs. “I don’t know, unfortunately. I could figure it out by doing some brain scans. And possibly going into your mind and switching around a few things.” He suggests. Corey immediately shields his head. “No we’re not doing that!” He exclaims.

“Calm down, it was just a suggestion.” Kin says, as if Corey’s reaction is unjustified. Corey lets out a sigh. “Kon, what do you think I should do?” He asks. Kon raises an eyebrow. “I think it’s pretty obvious. Stop being a dick and stop flirting with her when she’s clearly not into you anymore.” He says. “But flirting with her is so fun!” Corey whines. “Well stop doing it because you always do it after you’ve been a dick to her.” Kon says, rolling his eyes. “It’s not rocket science, Corey.”

“So I should just leave her be until the Battle Of The Bands?” Corey asks. “I mean that wasn’t what I was suggesting but that does kind of sound somewhat of a good idea.” Kon says. “He’s right, it’ll probably make Laney feel better about having to leave the Ewmans for a month to hang out with us. Which will increase the odds of her joining us permanently.” Kin says, scribbling down some complicated math equation that apparently connects with Laney. “And that’s what I want to happen.” Corey murmurs. Kin and Kon pat him on the back. “That’s what we all want to happen buddy.” Kin says quietly. “So don’t mess it up for us.” Kon teases.

Corey grins. “I’ll do my best. Now let’s get practicing, we can’t get Laney back if we’re not good enough. ”

WE ARE SO BACK! So sorry about how late this is and that it’s short and probably not my best work. I’ve started writing the next chapter so hopefully the next wait won’t be so long. Let me know what you think and as always my asks open if you’re confused about something! I’ll see you next time, bye for now!

#grojband #corey riffin #grojband au #laney penn #corney #kin kujira #kon kujira #corey x laney

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cels-not-so-secret-love-affair · 2 months ago

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falling to the music pt. 2 (jily)

a/n: part 2 to my band au jily noodles arrives! featuring coffee, more of mary and a slight misunderstanding…

previous | next

Lily goes four whole days with no new messages. Okay, fine, her friends text her, and she gets some emails from university about upcoming assignments, and her Waterstones app cheerily supplies to her the hottest novels of the month in a push notification, but she doesn’t get a text from James, which means none of that counts. And Lily is not bothered about this in the slightest. She’s fine about it, dandy even. Her friends have not complained about the new habit she’s developed of checking her iMessages every spare moment she has. Only, maybe they have. Once. Or twice. Or thrice. It’s just she thought it had gone so well. She had flirted, hadn’t she? And he had been interested, or so she’d thought. He’d gone to get her a pen, for fuck’s sake. She’d written her number on his skin. She’d basically temporary tattooed him, it was a Sharpie and everything. But she hears not a peep from him, so apparently he’s just a typical guy-in-an-indie-rock-band who flirts with girls and never follows up. Which is fine, honestly - that’s his prerogative. All it means now is she’s got to learn to quell the incessant and unrelenting desire to see him again. Easier said than done, though.

It’s a Saturday when she decides to ring Mary up and meet her for a coffee. This is what I need, she thinks. I just need to let it all out in one sitting and then move the fuck on. I only bloody met him once. So she dresses up. She picks out that nice skirt she got in a charity shop in York and her pair of sixties style boots and douses herself in perfume, and goes marching out to enjoy a good old rant and a latte. She’s determined to have a nice morning, and to have everything go her way for once. And she almost gets that. Almost.

The coffee shop, to its credit, is exactly as she wanted it to be. An independent joint on a pretty street corner, it’s perfect for people watching, and decorated quite pleasantly with all sorts of vintage knickknacks. She likes it. It’s unknown enough that it doesn’t get too busy, and not so awfully pretentious that it doesn’t have any proper seating. Seriously, why does no one seem to want to let you sit down anymore? Settling herself comfortably in a gorgeous green armchair by the window, Lily sets her phone face down firmly on the table. She vows silently and fervently to herself that she will not check it until she has left the building. Then, she pulls out her novel, Emma - which is in every aspect the perfect comfort book - and contents herself to caring solely about what’s going on in Highbury. So far, so good.

Mary turns up about ten or so minutes late, despite her optimistic suggestion over the phone earlier that this time it might only be five. This is not an issue though because Lily knows her best friend like the back of her hand, and thus knows better than to believe that she might arrive on time. Things are still as they ought to be.

‘Right then, Lils,’ Mary says after having brought over their drinks. ‘I have it on good authority that we’re pissed off today, is that correct?’

‘However did you guess?’ Lily deadpans.

‘Oh, I think the scowling at your mobile whilst I was in the queue may have tipped me off. It’s about that guitarist of yours, isn’t it?’

‘Obviously, yeah. Him, and the fact that men are the root of all evil.’ At this, Mary throws her hands up as if in worship, closing her eyes and humming appreciatively.

‘Too damn right, babe. Although I will say, dating girls can still be tricky.’

‘Yeah, but I reckon I’d probably feel like less of a fool if I was this hung up on a pretty girl. Instead I’m here whining about not getting the attention of a good-for-nothing, piece of shit, stupid fucking man. Christ.’ She reaches forward to take a sip of her coffee, looking somewhat defeated.

‘He still hasn’t texted you I take it?’

‘Not once. I don’t know what I did wrong, Mary. I thought he liked me. You saw him, you saw how Sirius introduced me. Didn’t he like me?’

‘I mean yeah, it looked like it. I’m sure you didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t go blaming yourself for it. Guys fall at their feet for you. Maybe he does want to text you, but can’t. Maybe there was an emergency so he’s been too busy to think about dating, or maybe he’s a flustered coward who can’t work up the courage to ask you out, or maybe he’s driven off to the Irish countryside on a lads trip to fuck about with his mates and didn’t realise he wouldn’t have any service. Or maybe it’s none of those things, and he isn’t interested at all. Whatever it is, you can’t start losing all your marbles ‘cause you’re waiting for a text.’ Mary puts both her hands down on the table palms up, and waits for Lily to take them. When their hands are slotted properly together, she gives a gentle squeeze and continues.

‘You, Lils, are a wonderful woman. And you have a wonderful woman’s life full of all sorts of wonderful things. Don’t waste it fretting over some bloke in a band.’ Lily takes a deep breath.

‘You’re right,’ she sighs. ‘You always are.’

‘I know,’ Mary answers with a smile.

‘Thanks. For putting up with all this, I mean. I promise I’ll be back to my usual self now. Nice, normal, non-boy-obsessed Lily.’

The phone that had been set face down on the table about twenty minutes ago chooses this moment as the perfect opportunity to buzz. The vibration sends it inching closer to the boundary between the safe, charted territory of antique mahogany wood, and the sheer drop down to the floor as if it, too, aches for the sweet release of death. Fuck me.

‘Fancy checking that?’ Mary asks sweetly.

‘Nope. No. No can do. Not going to check it.’

‘You can if you want to. We’ve all been there, I won’t judge.’

‘I have more resolve than that. I just said I’m back to normal. I don’t care if it’s him or not, I’m not going to look.’ Mary just stares at her. It’s not in any way critical, nor condemnatory. If anything, it just looks like she’s waiting it out. Lily counts about ten seconds of pained eye contact before-

‘I’m so sorry, I have to look.’ She snatches her phone from where it’s ended up suicidally near the edge of the table, taps it to light it up and of fucking course. There it is.

iMessages: Unknown Number

hii :) it’s james. is this lily?

‘Is it him?’ Mary has one eyebrow raised.

‘Fucking- yeah, it’s him.’

Lily wants so desperately to ignore the message. Here is a man who’s made her feel so incredibly pathetic, so incredibly angry, and he’s just waltzed on into her notifications without a care in the world. She shouldn’t dignify him with a response. And yet.

Lily: Lily Evans speaking.

James: oh, yay! okay perfect. well, hopefully you know who i am then. i’m the guitarist from the gig, like four days ago? you wrote your number on my arm.

Lily: Mhmm.

James: listen, i’m really sorry i didn’t get in contact sooner

James: you remember how when we were chatting that night i told you i was a dunce?

Lily: I do recall.

James: that is the truest thing i have ever said in my whole life. i am a dunce. i am stupid to the point of being unsalvageable. i am, you might say, a total buffoon.

Lily: And all this to say, what?

James: i dropped my phone :((

Lily: That’s why you haven’t texted me for four days? You dropped your sodding phone?

James: down an entire flight of stairs!

James: completely killed it

James: basically shot it dead and then broke both its legs for good measure

Lily: Right.

James: so then i was going to text you on sirius’ phone, but sirius is awful for pranks, and i didn’t want him to do something dickish or pretend that i died or something just to mess with you

James: he’s my best mate and i love him half to death, but he’s a bit of a knob sometimes

James: you don’t deserve that

James: and then remus is a fossil who still carries around a fucking nokia brick looking thing that i don’t even know how to use like he’s someone’s grandpa

James: no luck there

James: and peter was away with his girlfriend for their anniversary

James: so i had to wait till i got a new phone sorted to be able to message you

James: i’m really sorry :(

Mary takes a sip of her hot chocolate and looks somewhat disdainfully at Lily’s phone.

‘Chatty, isn’t he?’ Lily pulls an apologetic face.

‘I promise I won’t text him forever, I’m just… processing. Give me two minutes and I’m with you.’

Lily: I’m out with a friend right now so I can’t chat. But fine, I accept your apology. I’ll call you later and we can talk properly.

James: okay! absolutely no worries. talk to you soon?

Lily: Yes. Talk to you soon. But I’m still angry at you, so you’d better be on your best behaviour.

James: yes ma’am.

Lily clicks her phone shut, and pinches the bridge of her nose.

‘What did he say?’

‘He couldn’t text me because he chucked his phone down the stairs.’

‘Oh?’

‘And I hate to say it but… I buy it. It’s something he’d do.’ Mary humphs, unimpressed.

‘You still want to see him, then?’

‘I- yeah, yeah I do. He’s really… he’s really nice.’

‘Well then. Let’s see how Mr Nice keeps up.’

14 notes · View notes

dyinglikenarcissus · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 2. A New Normal

6k words

Warning: 18+ only. More kidnapping, that’s about it.

Like and reblog if you enjoy ☺️

You step into your home after spending far too long on the east coast. Your cat has been throwing a fit in his carrier ever since you pulled into your condo’s garage. Home sweet home. Safe and sound.

Away from him.

He wouldn’t follow you all the way to California. Right? He’s all talk. It was just a weird experience. Shortly after his strange proposal, he put you in a car and sent you back to your hotel. No phone, no camera, no Apple Watch. All of the tech that was on you was gone. It was just an elaborate robbery. But he left your wallet, your cash, and credit cards.

Just a strange, elaborate robbery.

But you’ll never see that guy again…

You unpack and open your computer to sync up your old phone data. You picked up a new one the same day and filed a stolen phone report with Verizon. They would take a week to do the replacement process but you needed a phone so you just bared the price.

Time to price out new cameras. Maybe you’ll get a smart ring instead of a watch. You kind of hated the clunky tech anyway.

You start to think up a script for the situation to put it on TikTok but you quickly think better of it. Best to just pretend it didn’t happen, probably.

You never met Steve. Bucky didn’t drug you. Sam didn’t apologize for the situation after dropping you off from the back of a luxury vehicle, acting like the good cop in the situation.

None of it happened.

You quickly get back to your life and almost forget about the situation.

Two weeks later, you get invited to a creator convention downtown and you jump at the chance to get out of the house. Your content has gotten a little stale since the incident. You didn’t really want to jump on anymore band wagons for a while.

You honestly don’t even want to leave the house…

You filmed a get ready with me. Put on a skimpy little burgundy dress you got while you were in New York.

You’re deciding if you want to deal with parking or deal with Uber when there’s a knock at your door.

You weren’t expecting anyone. None of your friends were going to the event so you were going solo. Everyone knew better than to just show up at your house unannounced…

You go to the door and attempt to reach the peep hole you’ve never been able to reach but you always try. And of course you still can’t reach it. So you open the door.

“Shit,” you whisper and quickly slam it shut locking it behind you.

How’d he find you? What’s he doing here? What the fuck!

“You aren’t even going to say hi to your fiancé?” He calls through the door. You can hear the smile in his voice. Your heart is pounding so hard you’re scared it might leap right out of your chest.

You hear rattling in the door knob and the door opens. What the fuck…

“I had Sammy copy your keys. I hope you don’t mind,” Steve sighs as he steps into your condo. “No shoes? Shoes? Do you care?”

“No shoes…” you whisper taking a step back as the giant man takes up space in your house.

He bends down and unties his dress shoes. He’s dressed in a burgundy blazer with black slacks today. You notice the shade matches the dress you’re wearing a little too well.

“What are you doing here?” You breathe.

“We have a date,” he sighs as he stands back up to step out of his shoes. You can’t help but notice the fresh Louboutin logo on the inside of them.

For someone so terrifying, he looks so good.

“Brought you a gift.” He hands you a black gift bag. You just glance at the bag before staring back up at him. “It’s not a bomb. I already said I’m not going to kill you,” he chuckles.

You take a tentative step forward and take the bag gingerly.

“You never said why you’re here,” you whisper.

“I did. It’s for our date. You’re just too terrified to think straight. Settle down. You’re like a scared rabbit. What happened to that confident girl filming her mob life on my dock?” He smirks and takes a step further into your home. “It’s cute. Very you in here. Where’s your cat?”

“I’m going to a Lancôme event. I don’t have time for this,” you whisper.

“The one at the Roosevelt? The one I made up?” He chuckles softly. “You are so predictable.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” you breathe.

“I’ve had your phone for a month. I know everything about you.”

He steps into your living room and sits on the chair like he belongs there, legs spread, taking up all the room he needs and making you feel so small in comparison. “Come on. Sit.” He commands and pats the arm rest of the chair. You edge your way into your own living room and perch on the edge of you couch as far away from him as possible. “You’re acting like you don’t know me,” Steve laughs.

“I don’t know you!” You shout before sucking in a breath at your own outburst.

“That’s why we’re going on a date. To get to know each other. Open your gift.”

You glance away from him long enough to place the bag on the floor at your feet. You take a deep breath before finally looking in the bag. There at the top is your phone, the one he took. You pull it out and examine it. It’s intact. It unlocks with your passcode and welcomes your with a picture of your celebrity crush Loki Laufeyson. Everything was the same…

“I added a couple of new contacts. If you need anything, call me, Bucky, or Sam. If I can’t get here to help, I have a guy in the Bay Area. His name’s Scott. I put his number in there too.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my girl now and I take care of my things. There’s more in there.”

You place the phone at your side before looking back into the box. A brand new DSLR camera in the box. “Oh!” You squeak.

“You like that?” He smirks. “I couldn’t give you back your old one. I hope this makes up for that.”

“I mean, I had a bunch of New York b-roll on that camera.”

“We’ll get some new b-roll,” he quickly interjects. “We have to make this relationship look real. Like we met organically. We’ll take some trips to New York. You’ll see all the shit they don’t show the tourist.”

You open the box to inspect the new camera, turning it on. It already has a charge and everything.

“You happy? Does this make up for the old one?”

You look back up at him. “Happy? I want you to leave me alone. I want you out of my life.”

He levels a sharp look at you that makes you cringe back. “That’s not going to happen, sweetheart. I’m sorry we met this way but this is how the cards are gonna fall.” You can only gulp at the seriousness of his statement and the look on his face that makes you truly worry for your safety.

But he said he wouldn’t kill you…

“Since that’s settled, we have a reservation to make. You ready? Freshened up? Fed the cat?”

You take a sharp inhale. “Where are we going?”

“Jet’s all fueled up. We’re doing dinner in San Francisco so bring the camera.”

“San Francisco? I can’t go there! What about Jethro?”

“It’s a 30 minute flight. You’ll be back before midnight. Unless you enjoy your time with me so much you wanna stay,” he smirks making you frown.

“Just give me a second,” you whisper. You go to the kitchen to fill your cat’s food bowl and change out his water before stepping into the bathroom.

You furiously start to text your best friend that there’s a kidnapper in your house and he’s trying to kill you and to send the police but the second you press send the phone shuts off.

“What the fuck,” you breathe. It had a full battery…

“You see a blond and you think I’m a fucking idiot?” Steve calls into the bathroom. “I know you have a new phone. Sam already hacked it. Now use the bathroom and let’s go!”

You don’t even have to pee…

You step out of the bathroom dejectedly and run into Steve’s broad chest.

“I know this isn’t the best situation. I’m really trying here. Don’t-please don’t fight me. It’ll be easier if you just cooperate.” He voice softens in a way you’ve yet to hear and it does calm you. Slightly.

“Okay. Okay. My shoes are by the door.” He walks back over to the door and pats the bench you keep by it to drop off groceries and things. You sit obediently and he slips your shoes on for you before working on his own. You grab your purse and call goodbye to your cat who’s horrified of strangers so you don’t even bother to look for him.

You step right into Steve’s awaiting arm.

He’s the perfect gentleman as he lets you walk into the elevator first then holds open the door to his Rolls Royce.

“Do you want to pick the music?”

“No,” you answer quickly.

He sighs and presses a button the console and some old time band music starts to play. The perfect backdrop to how he’s going to tie cinder blocks to your ankles and toss you into the ocean.

He’s quiet as he drives to John Wayne. You can’t help but hazard a glance at him. He is extremely handsome. Chiseled jaw and cheek bones, gorgeous blue eyes…maybe a little green in the right light.

He smirks as you watch him. “I can see you staring.”

“Sorry,” you whisper and whip your gaze to the window.

“Don’t be.”

“So, what is it that you do exactly?”

“Imports. Exports.”

“…humans?”

“God, no. Mostly weapons and drugs.”

“Oh.”

“Almost as bad as humans in the long run. People’s lives are ruined either way.”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“You won’t have to get involved in any of that,” he assures you.

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” you joke humorlessly.

He smiles at the statement. The silence becomes palatable after that as you glance at your old phone. You tucked the new one into your purse too but it’s yet to turn back on.

Everything from New York was gone. Even your plane tickets and Google Maps history. A whole week erased.

“Can I ask you something?”

Steve hums an affirmative.

“What happened on the dock?”

He smirks humorlessly and glances at you for a second before looking back at the road. “You don’t need to know.”

“But you’re, like, ruining my life for whatever that was! You can’t tell me?”

“I don’t want you to know anything more than what you need to know. It makes it easier in the long run.”

You grumble softly and repeat his words mockingly. He doesn’t respond.

The flight is quick just like he promised. A driver picks you up at the runway. This late at night and on the weekend, there’s very little traffic as the car makes its way through the city to ocean front.

You’re surprised when the familiar landscape becomes too familiar.

“What are we doing in Sausalito?”

“You’re familiar with the area?” Steve asks, not even glancing up from his phone.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

The world around you turns into the world you grew up in. You take a sharp intake of breath as you start to understand where you’re going. Maybe it’s been long enough. Maybe you can handle it.

The car stops in front of a very familiar restaurant. You wouldn’t be surprised if the hostess still remembers you.

It was only three years ago.

It was thankfully a different host and none of the servers looked familiar. You were directed through the kitchen, to a back room. It looked like it was set up for just the two of you.

“What do you think?” Steve asks as he pulls out your chair.

You just nod and sit. Your eyes are fixed on the menu. You can’t even enjoy the scenery.

You can’t do this.

Steve crouches down next to you. “Hey. You alright?” He asks. “You’re pescatarian, right? This is one of the best seafood places in the state.”

“It’s delicious. I’ve been here l-lots of times.” You voice cracks at the end of your statement and Steve is instantly on fix it mode.

“Alright, come on. We’re leaving.” He pulls out your chair and grips your forearm, tugging you back out the door.

He gets you back in the car and instructs the driver to drive around.

“Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“That was my mom’s favorite restaurant. We went all the time. I haven’t been back since-“

“Shit,” Steve sighs. “I’m so sorry.”

“I guess you don’t know everything about me,” you whisper.

“Alright, you grew up here?” You nod. “Where someplace without memories?”

You think for a moment before pulling out your phone and giving the driver the address.

The silence is thick and uncomfortable now while you ride to the other side of the city. The world becomes more industrial as you enter Oakland. More urban. As you ride to a restaurant you’ve never actually been to but you’ve eaten the food plenty of times. You family loved this place but you alway opted for take out due to the nature of it.

“Barbecue?” Steve asks as the car stops in front of the restaurant. You nod and glance at him for approval. “You’re all dolled up in your pretty dress. You might get it dirty.”

“It’s the only place I can think of,” you laugh humorlessly. “And the dress is red. The sauce will blend right in.”

“Whatever you want,” Steve sighs. The driver steps out of the car and lets both of you out before disappearing into the restaurant.

“Both of my parents died when I was a kid,” Steve sighs, leaning against the side of the car. “I-I know how it feels. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry to you, too.” You give him a half hearted smile.

“Just a couple of orphans,” he jokes just as the driver comes back.

“Cap, they can’t do a private room. They said they’re too busy.”

Steve lifts his brow at the man. “Does he know who I am?”

“This is Stark territory,” the man shrugs. Steve makes a sharp intake and pushes himself off the car to go inside the restaurant.

“Hold on,” you stop him, pressing a hand to his chest. “Let’s just eat at a regular table. It’s fine.” You direct your gaze to the driver. “Can you just put our name on the list? We’ll wait.”

Steve just shrugs and takes his place back against the car. The driver comes back advising they have a table for you and he goes to park somewhere.

Steve presses a hand to your lower back, leading you into the restaurant. You’re seated at a table near a window in a relatively quiet corner.

“See? This isn’t so bad?”

“I guess not,” Steve sighs and pulls out your chair once again. A waitress comes around relatively quickly with menus and water.

“Is it your first time here?”

“It’s his first time,” you gesture to Steve. “It’s my first time in an extremely long time.”

“Well, the menu didn’t change much. Our ribs are a best seller of course. And the links are a little spicy,” she warns. “Special occasion?” She asks seeing our outfits.

“It’s our first date,” you smile.

“Cute! I hope you both enjoy it!” She leaves you for a moment to look over the menu.

You attempt to stifle a laugh while you watch Steve across the table. “What?” He asks, glancing up.

“It’s just funny that she warned you about the spice level.”

He cracks a smile at that. “She probably saw that I needed one from a mile away so I appreciate it.”

“Big, bad Steve can’t handle a little heat?”

“I know my limits,” he grins. You giggle at him and look over the cocktail list already knowing what you want. “I thought you were pescatarian?”

“I’ll still eat chicken occasionally.”

“Good to know,” he mutters.

You lean forward on the table. “You know, its not really fair you got this head start on me when I don’t know anything about you.”

“Then ask.”

“I-I don’t know what to ask. I’m not really the dating type,” you admit.

“You don’t date?”

“I haven’t dated anyone in an extremely long time. Like years.”

“Are you straight?”

“You couldn’t get that from my phone?”

“I have a pretty good guess,” Steve counters, placing his menu on the table to focus on you. “You have a crush on Loki Laufeyson for some reason, you have this ancient photo album full of men, but your porn history…” he trails and your face heats instantly.

“Fine, I’m bi,” you admit before he can read you to further filth.

“Was that so hard? What are you getting?”

You frown slightly at losing his little game. “Just the chicken.”

“What sides?”

“I think green beans and potato salad. What about you?”

“I’m thinking the ribs and brisket with corn and potato salad. You think the dessert’s good here?”

You just nod. It’s good. You don’t need to give him an explanation. The waitress comes back and takes your orders. Steve surprises you and orders for you. He adds on a whiskey lemonade and you request a spiked kool aid.

“Did you spend your whole life in Sausalito?”

“Yeah, until my mom died. I just couldn’t stay. That’s when I moved to LA.”

“Is your family here, too?”

“Yeah, well, in Norcal. They’re sprinkled around all over the place. What about you?”

“Sam and Buck are all I have left,” Steve sighs. “I lost everyone so I made a new family.” You nod. That must be hard, too.

“Can you tell me about yourself?” You request after the waitress drops off your drinks.

“I’ve known Bucky since I was a kid. We joined the army together. We met Sam at the base in Sokovia. We’ve been tight ever since. Bucky lost his arm and got discharged. Sam and I learned too much about our government and we went rouge, I guess. Been running ever since.”

“So you went from being in the American army to…” you trail, not knowing how much you can say in public.

“Pretty much.”

“That’s a complete turn around.”

“Haven’t looked back,” he sighs and sips his drink. “How is it?” You nod sipping your own cocktail. It was really good actually.

“How yours?”

“Good.”

He sighs and tugs his phone from his pocket. He types a few lines of text before handing it to you. It’s on the face ID screen.

“The password is 1918.”

“Is that the year you were born?”

“Oh, she’s got jokes,” he smirks. “It’s just a number. Take it. I’ll get it back on our next date.”

You take the phone tentatively. “Are you sure? Don’t you need it for…stuff?”

“I’ve got a work phone for that. But that one has all the personal stuff. So we can be on the same level.”

You go though the face ID process and the home screen lights up for you. The background is a landscape of New York, the icons are all sorted in designated boxes so unlike your own phone where apps are spread out and you have to hunt for the ones you rarely use.

“Where’s the next date going to be? My grandma’s grave?” You smirk.

“I didn’t know!” Steve argues with a smile.

“But I thought you knew everything about me! Are you a liar now?”

“How was I supposed to know?”

“Maybe if you weren’t forcing me to marry you, you might learn it on an actual date.”

Steve sighs as you suck all of the fun out of the situation. “I’m not apologizing for this anymore.”

“I’m not accepting any apologies.”

“Can we just enjoy our date?”

You hum softly and stir your drink. “The worst part is if it weren’t for all of this, I might actually like you.”

Steve drops you off at home a little after midnight. He walks you up to your door and presses a kiss to your forehead before bidding you goodnight.

The date didn’t get much better after your outburst. Steve sort of clammed up on you so you disengaged too. This was no way to start a relationship. Even a fake one…

You sigh and step back into your home. You just want to get out of this dress.

You strip and shower and lie in bed before remembering the new phone in your purse. Your cat joins you just as you fish it out.

Steve’s pictures are surprisingly normal. He’s got a lot of tattoos under those dress shirts. You see them peaking out under tanks and littering his chest in topless shots. You hum softly. You’ve never thought of being with someone with that many tattoos but you didn’t know what to expect from a hardened criminal. Photos of him and Bucky and Sam. Some other people come and go. There’s a red head that’s pops up pretty often among them. She’s gorgeous.

You keep scrolling past trips and scenic landscapes until you notice another common woman. This one’s photos are more intimate. Sleeping, cuddling with him, oh shit!

Was she sucking his…?

You squeak and toss the phone away startling your cat.

“Why would he want me to see that?” You whisper. Unless…

You pull the phone back toward you and try to ignore the video to look at the date. It was over five years old.

You can’t help but glance back at the image. Fuck, he’s thick.

You scroll away quickly. There’s more pornographic images sprinkled into his life. Photos of rings, a wedding, a church. All with her.

You go back further and watch their relationship. A small one bedroom apartment, a dog, parks, beaches, sunsets. He loved her, whoever she was…

You scroll back up to when you first noticed her image until they stopped. Maybe they broke up. You yawn and place the phone on your bedside table.

You’ll look through it more tomorrow.

After a week of normal life, Steve texts you to pack a weekend bag.

You ask where he’s taking you and he actually tells you. Probably to avoid another date like the last one.

Tokyo

What about Jethro? There’s no way you’ll be able to get your sitter on this short of notice.

You and that fucking cat. Bring him

You don’t question the man’s sanity, you just start to pack up your cat’s food.

Three days later you’re flying first class with your kitten to Japan.

This was insane.

You meet Steve at the airport in a private car and he greets you with a smile and asks about your week.

“Fine,” you answer tersely and place Jethro between the two of you in the car.

“Sam noticed your social media presence has dipped. Care to explain?”

Well, that was abrupt…

“Um, I just haven’t felt like leaving the house…”

“Are you scared I’ll jump out of the bushes or something?” Steve laughs as the car pulls off.

“No!” You answer quickly but that was a lie. “Kinda.”

“No one’s going to bother you. Get back to your regular life. I don’t want anything to seem suspicious.”

“That’s kinda hard,” you mutter.

“What was that?” You can tell he hates your backtalk but he’s trying to be civil.

You clear your throat and gather your thoughts. “It’s kinda hard to act like everything is normal when it isn’t.”

He sighs and crosses one of his long legs over the other.

“Have you told your friends about me?”

“No,” you snort. How were you supposed to brooch that. This hot guy kidnapped me and now we’re ’dating’.

“Tell them about me so it’s not out of left field for them to get a wedding invitation,” he sighs.

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Let’s make up a meet cute,” he suggests. “Coffee shop?” You shrug. “Bar?”

“I don’t go to bars.”

“Fine. You tell me how we met.” Irritation swirls in his voice and you kind of want to continue to poke the bear…

You think for a moment trying to make up a scenario that might irritate him just enough. “I was filming along the water front in New York and bumped into you and my phone fell in the water before I could save anything. You jumped in to get it but it was, like, gone. We both felt so bad because you felt responsible and you were all wet with murky, dirty water. You offered to get me a new one but you were dripping wet so we went back to your place so you could change then we went to the Apple Store. I left and came back home but you went to the store a couple of days later and bought a local catfish-“

“I see where this is going,” Steve shakes his head. “That’s fucking ridiculous.”

“Just ridiculous enough,” you insist with a smile. “We can film some b-roll and make it a get ready with me. Make it happen.”

He lets out a defeated sigh while watching you intently with a lifted brow. “You’re serious?” You nod “Are you asking me to be in a movie, little movie star?”

“I mean, we have to make this legit.”

“Alright, we’ll do it when we get back to the States.” You smile up at him before he goes back to the tablet on his lap for the rest of the ride.

His lack of reaction disappoints you but he seems to really be trying to get along with you. You have a whole long weekend with him…You can break him in four days.

You film some of the city scape, since he wants to be part of your life apparently before he drops you off at the hotel.

“You’re in room 2001. My room is 2002, right across the hall.” Steve hands you a key card. “I’ll pick you up for dinner at 7, get some rest in the meantime. Then we can talk about what to do for the rest of the weekend.” You nod and take the card. “I have to handle some business but call if you need anything.” A door man opens the door and works on your luggage while you handle Jethro.

The hotel is gorgeous. One of those hotels you film in the lobby of to make it look like you’re staying there but you could never afford it, couldn’t even fake it. The 20th floor is the top of the hotel. There’s only one other room up this high and it’s Steve’s. You look around in awe. The room is gorgeous. It’s huge. And it looks like a house! You step into a living room, there’s a wet bar with a mini fridge and a balcony looking out over the city that is calling you but you have to get Jethro settled first. You notice a litter box in the coroner and a pet bed full of toys, treats, and cat food. Steve really thought of you. You release Jethro from his carrier and he takes a few tentative steps around the room before letting out a questioning meow.

“I’m right here,” you reassure him. It’s not his first time in a hotel but it’s his first time flying to the other side of the world. You film him exploring his new environment before taking him out to the balcony.

“We’re in Tokyo!” You announce to the camera with your cat in tow. You let him explore the balcony while the bell hop brings up your luggage. You do a little editing and finally let out a sigh.

“You wanna help me unpack, little man?” He chirps up at you and you take him back inside. You press a kiss to his head and place him on the bed while you go through your luggage.

Your phone vibrates but you’re shocked when its not Steve.

It’s your best friend.

Hey! When did you go to Japan??

She must have seen your post. You’ve been a terrible friend this past month but your head has been all over the place. Here goes nothing.

I’ve been seeing this guy. He flew me out for a long weekend

Whaaat??? Who is he? Why didn’t you tell me? Is he hot???

You laugh at her messages.

We’ll take some pictures tonight. He’s gorgeous

It was the truth. He was beautiful, tall, and buff. Every woman’s dream man. You’d be happy if you weren’t being forced into this situation.

You deserve it

You smile at her text. Maybe you just need to make the best of it.

Do you want me to bring you back anything?

YESS!!! Whatever you can fit in your bag!!!

You laugh and send her a thumbs up emoji.

You want to explore the hotel and the city but the time change is killing you. You turn on a YouTube video and let it watch you fall asleep.

You wake up feeling a dip on the bed next to you.

“Little star, you alright?” You groan softly and smoother your face in the pillow. “You are going to be up all night,” Steve chuckles.

“I tried to stay awake,” you mutter before yawning and stretching. You press yourself up to look at him. He’s dressed in a simple cable knit sweater and slacks. He looks so effortless. He could probably wear a paper bag and look good.

“You hungry?” You nod. “Sushi?” You smile and nod again. “Get up and get dressed.” He gets up and heads to the living room. You glance around and notice your cat is gone. Of course he is. Steve must be a holy terror to him.

You get up and stretch again before finding some clothes. A simple sweater should be good. It was chilly out so you should wear a coat.

You put your braids in a ponytail and step out of the bedroom to find Steve with your cat on his lap, looking as content as he could be.

“What the hecko? Jethro?” The cat looks at you and blinks slowly.

“I had to come all the way to Japan to finally meet this guy. Does he like his bed and everything?”

“Well, yeah,” you sputter incredulously. “He’s just normally terrified of strangers. I’m…he’s sitting with you?”

“Bucky’s cat is the same way,” Steve sighs. “They just like me, I guess,” he shrugs while running a hand down your cat’s back. Then he looks at you and graces you with a gorgeous smile. “You look really cute.”

Your face heats.

“I figured we should match.” You look down at your own white sweater under your leather jacket.

“We have a reputation to uphold,” he laughs and places Jethro on the floor. “Ready?” You nod and take his hand. He brings your hand to his lips and leads you to the elevator.

“No car?” You ask when you reach the lobby and notice the lack of black luxury vehicles.

“No car. Just a short walk.”

“Growth,” you smile up at him.

“I walk. When I’m out of the States,” he laughs.

“Where are Sam and Bucky while you’re out of the country?”

“Sam’s here. Buck’s in Europe handling some stuff.” You hum in understanding. “Why?”

“It just seems like they’re always with you. I was just wondering.”

“They didn’t come on the last date.”

“No, but they flew with us.”

“I needed my wing men.” You burst into laughter at his statement. “I’m not great with women. I’ve really only had one serious relationship. I just want you to like me.”

You hum not really knowing how to brooch the question. “I looked through your phone. Obviously. Was it the brunette?”

“Peggy. We were married.”

“What happened?”

“She passed away five years ago.”

“Steve!” You almost shout and remember where you are. “You’re a widow?”

He takes a breath and pulls you along down the street. “Yeah.” So many questions run through your mind but he stops are a revolving sushi place that reminds you how much he’s really trying. You love revolving sushi.

You’re seated at the bar and you record a few seconds before posing together for a selfie. He presses a kiss to your temple and you get a photo of it.

“Can I ask you about what happened to her?” You ask quietly

“Colon cancer.”

“Colon cancer?” You repeat.

“Came out of nowhere. By the time we found out it was too late. After I lost her, I just threw myself into my work. I feel like I’m a completely different man from the man she knew. Sometimes I think back about my time with her and it feels like a different life.”

“Do you think you’ve changed for the better?” You question.

He sighs deeply. “No.” He takes a sip of his sake. “But I’ve learned so much about the world that I didn’t know when she was alive. I feel like I’ve gotten as good as I can get.” You sigh. What could have possibly happened in his life to take him from a military man who was a loving husband to a crime lord?

You watch as he pours another cup of sake and you can’t help yourself. You stand up and press a kiss to his temple, not so unlike the ones he’s given you. They calmed you so much. You hope yours does the same for him.

The two of you walked back to the hotel hand in hand but Steve was right as you’re learning he is about a lot of things. You were wired.

“Did you decide what you want to do tomorrow?” Steve asks as you step into the lobby.

“Can we go to Disneyland?”

“Disneyland?” He repeats, shock all over his face.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Tokyo Disney,” you insist.

“Alright. I’ll make some calls.”

He starts toward the elevator but you fall behind. “What’s wrong?”

“Um,” you play with your jacket zipper for a second. “Can we get a drink or something?”

“You aren’t tired, are you?”

“Far from it,” you laugh.

“There’s a stocked bar in the room.”

“Okay,” you nod.

He leads you to your room. “You wanna change? Get showered, and everything? I’ll come over in 30?” You nod and you go your separate ways.

Just for a moment.

You follow his instructions and you felt a little more relaxed after each step of your night time routine. You’re wrapping your braids up in a high bun when he knocks on the door.

“Come in!”

“Got a private tour for Disneyland tomorrow. You owe Sam a drink. Probably a whole bottle,” Steve laughs and heads straight for the alcohol.

“They didn’t know who you were?” You joke from the bedroom.

“My name gets me a lot but Disney’s a fucking vault.”

“Oh, something even the great Steve Rogers can’t ge…” The words die on your lips when you see him.

Grey sweat pants should come with a warning. Especially when they’re worn by him.

“It keeps me humble,” he sighs. “What are you drinking, movie star?”

“Um…” you have to catch your breath. He really does make anything look good. “I uh-“ you have to clear your throat before you can continue. “Is there a rosé over there?”

“Coming right up.”

You perch on the edge of the couch and it instantly reminds you of your first date. You roll his phone around in your hands and finally pass it back to him when he hands you the glass. “You know you really shouldn’t just pass that around to anyone,” you warn.

“Did you watch those videos?” He smirks, making himself comfortable in the arm chair across from you. You can help but watch his tattoos that swirl from his chest down his arms. Anything to avoid his gaze while you talk about this.

“I couldn’t, like, not watch them…” you trail.

“And?”

“And what?” Your face heats as he watches you. “You want me to tell you you have a fat dick or something?”

“Do I?” He asks with a quirked eye brow.

“Can we change the subject?”

“You brought it up.”

“You’re impossible,” you laugh and lean back on the couch.

“I’m not deleting them,” he shrugs.

“I don’t expect you to.” Especially now that you know more about the situation. You swirl your glass for a moment before asking your next question. “Was she into filming stuff or were you?”

He smirks at you for a moment before answering. “Maybe a little of both.”

“You’re freaky, Mr. Rogers.”

“I never said I was a saint. You film every moment of your life. Ever filmed that?”

“No,” you answer quickly.

He hums softly and shrugs. “You might like it.”

You just shake your head and smile.

“You have a gorgeous body. You could film anything you want and people would watch it.” You laugh at his words just as Jethro jumps on the arm chair and curls up in his lap.

“I can’t believe him,” you sigh, watching the cat. Five years of him running in horror at the doorbell ringing and all it took was one mob boss to change him.

“You both have terrible taste in men,” he sighs and scratches behind the cat’s ear.

“What do you know about my taste in men?” You smile.

“You’re dating me, aren’t you?”

You just shake your head. “You’re ridiculous.” You stretch out on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. “Oh! Who’s the red head?”

“Natasha. She’s an old friend and kind of a pain in the ass. I keep her at arms distance because she’s useful but I don’t completely trust her.”

“She sounds wonderful,” you laugh.

“You two would probably get along: you share every moment of your life, she keeps every moment a heavily guarded secret.”

“I mean she’s fucking gorgeous. She can do whatever she wants if you ask me.”

“You two can take over the world together.”

You roll your eyes at his statement. “We didn’t film the end of our date,” you sigh.

“Come here,” he pats his lap, moving Jethro to the arm rest.

You stand up and fall into his lap opening your camera app on your phone. “Cheers?” He grins and holds up his glass before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“That good?” He asks wrapping his arm around your waist. You nod and he pulls you back against his chest. You add the clip to the rest of the video and schedule it to post in the morning.

“I can’t wait to go to Disney. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he mutters and presses another kiss to your temple. He holds you against him while you edit some other videos and finish your glass. Steve works on his own phone and the two of you sit in comfortable silence.

You notice Steve finish his whiskey and ask if he wants a refill.

“Thank you.”

You get up and refill both your glasses. “What are you working on?”

“Sourcing products,” he answers simply.

“You make it all sound like you just run a store.”

“I guess it kind of is,” he smiles and takes his drink. You start to walk back over to the couch but he grabs your hand. “Come back. I like you here.” You laugh and sit back down on his lap. You wrap one arm around his shoulder as you snuggle into his hold.

“I kind of like being here, too.”

“Good,” he sighs. He places his glass on the side table with his phone next to it. “Do you have any other questions about me or do you want to keep my phone for another week?”

“It was kind of fun being a mob boss for a couple of weeks.”

He places the phone in your lap. “You can be the boss for as long as you want,” he laughs.

“You don’t want it back?”

“It felt nice to unplug for a couple of weeks.”

“Alright. I’ll keep it. But you have to take your phone back on the next date. I can’t handle all of this responsibility on my own.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he smiles.

He takes your glass from your hand and places it next to his. “I need to talk to you about something serious. We’ve been ‘dating’ but I need you to refer to me as your fiancé. If anyone asks you, we’re engaged, alright?” You nod. “Good. That’s all. Some of us have been up making money all day. I’m fucking exhausted.”

“I’m sorry for keeping you up,” you smile.

“Don’t be. I like being with you.” He tucks his arm under your legs and carries you to your bed. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“What time?”

“Sam said the park opens at 9. I’ll have some breakfast sent up at 8 and we’ll leave after that.” You nod and he puts you down. “Try to get some sleep.” You nod again. He presses a kiss to your forehead and you snuggle into bed. You hear the hotel room door open and close and take a deep sigh.

Part of you wishes he would stay.

Room service wakes you up bright and early. You’re amazed you eventually got some sleep.

Steve comes over about ten minutes after breakfast arrives.

“You aren’t dressed?” Steve asks walking through the open bathroom door.

“No,” you mumble around toothbrush. He smiles and wraps his arms around your waist. You bend over to rinse your mouth. “You’re too cheery for this early.”

He smirks. “I already had my coffee and went to the gym. I’m ready to go.”

“Just like the elderly to be up early.”

He rolls his eyes at you in the mirror. “I’m going to eat. Take your time looking cute.” You smile and let him kiss your forehead. You’re getting used to his kisses. You start to look forward to them. Thirty minutes later, you emerge from your bedroom refreshed and dressed in a Minnie Mouse sweater.

“You didn’t want to match me today?” Steve asks cutting up his omelette.

“I have to rep my girl,” you giggle pointing at the queen mouse herself.

“Fine, I’ll change before we leave,” he smiles.

“You don’t have to.” You grab a plate and peruse the buffet that appeared in your room. “Why is there so much food?”

“I like matching you. And I don’t know what kind of breakfast food you like.”

“A bagel and scrambled egg sandwich with a little bit of hot sauce.”

“Good to know,” Steve smiles. You place your food next to his at the bar before feeding Jethro. “How’d you sleep?”

“Surprisingly good. And you?”

“Like a rock. ” You step up onto the bar stool next to him. “Got you something.” Steve slides a ring box in front of you as you sit down. You give him a dubious look before opening it.

“Shit.” You almost fall off the stool at the diamond sitting in front of you. “Wha-what is this?”

“We have to be engaged, right?”

“And this is how you’re proposing? Just giving me a ring at breakfast?”

“You’re the one narrating this relationship. Make up a good story for me.”

You blanch at him. Does he not have a romantic bone in his body? As you stare up at him, a thought comes to mind. “Brain blast! You can propose at Disneyland!”

“Are you serious?” Steve cocks an eyebrow at you.

“It’s every girl’s dream,” you joke. “At least it’s what they think their dream is. It’ll do crazy numbers!”

“When am I going to learn to stopped being shocked by your ideas?” Steve sighs. “Fine. But you know, if we’re going to have a filmed, public proposal, we’re going to have to kiss.”

You frown slightly. “Yeah, I guess we will.”

“Should we practice?” Kiss? Him? On the lips? You gasp and look up at him again. Your terror must read all over your face. “Or we can just let it happen in the moment. It will probably look more organic.”

“No, you’re right. First kisses are always awkward. We have to do it before hand.”

“Do you want me to brush my teeth?” Steve asks with a smirk and pushes his empty plate away.

“Um, no, it’s okay. Let’s just do it.”

“You don’t have to say it like its a death sentence. It’s just a kiss.”

“No, I just, um…You take the lead,” you insist.

He gives you a look like he’s trying to figure out what you just said before his eyes widen. “You’ve never kissed anyone?”

“Oh my God,” you mutter and cover your face with your hands. Is it that obvious?

“Wait. Are you a virgin, too?” You just nod, unable to look at him. “What kind of abstinent rock did you live under?” Steve chuckles.

“It’s not funny.” You mutter into your hands.

“Yes, it is. What are you? 30? And you’ve never kissed anyone? How do you even know you’re bi?”

“I just know!” You cry. This was beyond embarrassing. You just wanted to have a fun day at Disneyland, ride the rides, eat the food, get to know Steve better but now all your embarrassing secrets were out on the table like you were in high school all over again.

“Alright, it’s not funny. Calm down. You’ll ruin your make up,” Steve sighs and pulls your hands away from his face. There’s still a ghost of a smile on his lips that makes you laugh at the whole situation.

“Maybe it is kind of funny,” you admit.

“It’s fucking hilarious,” Steve grins. “We have a lot of practicing to do if you’ve never kissed anyone.” He turns your stool so you’re facing him. “Alright. Close your eyes.” You follow his instructions.

It takes a moment before you feel a soft press to your lips.

It’s nice.

“There. First one done.” You can hear the smile in Steve voice. “You wanna do it back?” Your eyes flutter open to meet his. He’s still leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his face just inches from yours. You nod tentatively. He closes his eyes and you purse your lips and kiss him back.

You kind of like it.

“You’re a pro already. Ready for something more advanced?” You nod again. “Alright. Close ‘em.” You follow his instructions again and his hands cup your face. This time his lips slot between yours, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. He gives you the smallest nip of his teeth making you gasp and you know he’s got you. The second your mouth opens, he’s in it, your teeth clashing while he holds your face to his. Then he lets go. Your eyes open again to see him standing over you. His pupils are slightly dilated, hiding the blue of his eyes. His lips are red from you lip gloss. His breathing matches yours.

You love this.

You don’t wait for his prompting this time. You reach up to pull him down into another breath stealing kiss. His arms wrap around your waist, lifting you slightly from the stool. He can take you where ever he want to go.

He starts to pull away but you chase him making him smile. You giggle and press one last kiss to his lips. He keeps you in his embrace and you keep him in yours. He’s just breaths away.

“Do you think you’ve got enough reps in?”

“Maybe one more to make sure?”

“Gladly,” Steve grins and lifts you just to place you on the bar counter and steps between your legs. You’ll have to let him go eventually. Just not right now.

“Hey guys! I know I’ve been kind of spotty with uploads but as I said in the last video, my boyfriend brought me to Japan! This is day two! We started off with a room service buffet. Then we went to Tokyo Disneyland! Ah! I was in heaven! It was all so magical! We got matching hoodies. We love to match! And I got a pair of rose gold ears. Steve booked us a tour guide for the day so we got to walk onto everything! Things got a little too intense for Steve after Journey to the Center of the Earth. This was him trying to hold down his Mickey Pretzel. So, I was a solo rider for the rest of the day. We ended the day with fireworks in this special reserved area with a blanket and hot cocoa. It was so cute. And then Steve shocked me and proposed in front of the castle! Of course I said yes! I love him so much! It was such an amazing day. Stay tuned for some wedding planning videos! This is so exciting!”

You end the voice over recording and let out a burnt out sigh.

“You’re a good actress,” Steve laughs and runs his hand over your stomach while you relax in his lap after all the walking you did today.

You snort out a laugh. “You haven’t seen my other videos, apparently.”

“I have. You’re nowhere near that bubbly in real life.”

“You don't think I have a generally cheery disposition?” You grin.

“I think you’re a fucking brat,” Steve smirks into his drink. You just giggle at his words.

You sync up the video with your voice over and the two of you sit in silence while Steve sips his bourbon. You get to the footage that makes you pause as Steve holds your middle and you happily leap into his arms to share the passionate kiss you worked so hard on that morning. It looked good.

Really good. “That kiss was pretty damn convincing.” Steve presses a kiss to your temple.

“You think so?”

He hums positively. “They might actually think you’re in love.”

You smile and turn your head to face him. You press a kiss to his cheek. “I had a good teacher.”

“Did you?” Steve smirks and brushes his hand up your jaw. “Do you want some more homework?” He presses another heart stopping kiss to your lips. You turn in his lap to straddle his legs and Steve grips your hips, holding you close.

“I like kissing you,” you admit against his lips.

“Good, because I’m not going to stop anytime soon.” You giggle and cup his jaw, falling back into his kiss.

Chapter 1 | Master List | Chapter 3

#steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #mob boss!steve rogers x black!reader #mob boss!steve rogers #black!reader

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strangenewfriends · 1 year ago

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"WHAT IS GOING on here? Why are idiot fans throwing stuff during live shows? It’s reached a crisis point in the past couple weeks—a disturbing and loathsome epidemic of fan aggression against performers. On Wednesday, Kelsea Ballerini got hit in the face when a concertgoer threw a bracelet at her—just the latest case of a female artist assaulted in the middle of a show. Why is this happening, and how do we stop it?

Ballerini was in Boise, Idaho, doing her country-pop hit “If You Go Down (I’m Goin’ Too),” when the bracelet came out of nowhere and hit her face, right near her left eye. She left the stage, but then returned to finish her show. “Can we talk about what just happened?” she said, in admirably clear terms. “Don’t throw things, you know? I just always want shows of mine—every show, for every artist—but I’m in control of this one. I just want it to be a safe place for everyone. Can you help me do that tonight?”

It’s not an isolated case. Bebe Rexha needed three stitches after she got hit by a thrown iPhone at a NYC rooftop show on June 18, and posted a photo of her frighteningly bruised and bandaged face. The alleged assailant, a 27-year-old man, told police, “I was trying to see if I could hit her with the phone at the end of the show because it would be funny.” He also helpfully explained, “It’s a TikTok trend.” Oh.

Two days later, Ava Max was assaulted by a man who crashed the stage at an L.A. show and slapped her in the face. She posted, “He slapped me so hard that he scratched the inside of my eye.” A couple days later, in London’s Hyde Park, Pink got interrupted mid-song by someone throwing a bag of their dead mother’s ashes. A true pro, Pink asked, “Is this your mom?” Then she put down the bag and said, “I don’t know how I feel about this.”

It can’t be overstated how much this sucks. Miley Cyrus recently declared she doesn’t feel safe doing arena shows anymore. As she explained, “There’s no connection. There’s no safety.”

Ballerini posted an update to her Instagram Story on Thursday, saying, “hi. i’m fine. someone threw a bracelet, it hit me in the eye, and it more so just scared me than hurt me. we all have triggers and layers of fears way deeper than what is shown, and that’s why i walked offstage to calm down and make sure myself, band and crew, and the crowd all felt safe.”

How did we get here? These are important artists with things to say and music to make. It’s not their job to explain why idiots shouldn’t throw things at them onstage. But it’s simpler than that—they’re human beings. What these incidents have in common is a bizarre lack of respect, a main-character neediness for attention, a child’s ignorance of boundaries. This isn’t fan enthusiasm going overboard—this is hostility disguised as fandom.

So: it’s weird that this needs to be said, but don’t throw things at the artist, mmmmkay? No matter how soft and fluffy it seems. A cute li’l stuffed animal turns into a weapon if it hits somebody, as happened to Lady Gaga in Toronto last fall. A bracelet can do serious damage. Somebody threw a lollipop at David Bowie in 2004, in Norway, and almost blinded him. A lollipop. Nobody wants concerts to turn into airport-security hellholes with body-cavity searches. Your elderly loved ones do not need the aggravation of amending their wills to say, “BTW, after I die, if it ever seems like a cool idea to bombard a hard-working music legend with the remains of my incinerated corpse, switch to decaf and think again.”

Why now? So much of it comes down to the pandemic. People got out of practice at going to shows, so they forgot how to be audiences. Or else they just started their concertgoing years now, without having learned from being part of an experienced audience. But in 18 months of isolation, the whole fan culture around live music shut down—the traditions, the habits, the manners, the codes of honor, the spirit of “act like you’ve been there before.” It was a disastrous loss for music and the community around it. When live music returned, some fans were desperate to get back into the action, but without remembering the details of how to handle themselves in an IRL crowd. That’s how you get a grown adult boasting he threw a piece of metal at a celebrity to join a “TikTok trend.”

But this wave of fan aggression evokes those horror stories from the Seventies, like the notorious 1971 incident when a London concertgoer pushed Frank Zappa off the stage, putting him in a wheelchair and nearly breaking his neck. Or when “some stupid with a flare gun” burned down the Montreux Casino, inspiring Deep Purple to write “Smoke on the Water.” (Respect to the late great Funky Claude, who ran back into the burning building to pull kids out.) Over time, audiences gradually learned how to be cool in a concert crowd, until the coronvirus. So there’s a lot of Some Stupid going around.

There’s always been a certain etiquette for live music. It’s taken a beating in the social-media age, as more people treat the live show as a backdrop to stage click-chasing viral stunts.

But it’s unquestionably gotten worse post-pandemic. Last summer, Kid Cudi walked out on the Rolling Loud festival in Miami. “I will fucking leave,” he warned the crowd. “If I get hit with one more fucking thing—if I see one more fucking thing on this fucking stage, I’m leaving. Don’t fuck with me.” Someone then hit him with a water bottle—and bragged about it on Twitter, because of course he did.

Tyler the Creator issued a public plea last year for concertgoers to stop throwing things. “I don’t understand the logic of throwing your shit up here,” Tyler ranted mid-show. “Not only for safety reasons, but bro, I don’t want your shit. I don’t want it. Like, I’m not even being funny. Every show someone throws something up here, and I don’t understand the logic. Why do you think I want your shit? Then if I slip and break my foot? Stop throwing that fucking shit up here, bro!” He went on to say, “Fucking dick-fuck.”

But that message was evidently too subtle for some folks. Steve Lacy stopped a New Orleans show in October when somebody hit him in the leg with a camera. Lacy said, “Don’t throw shit on my fucking stage,” then smashed the camera and left. Rosalia got hit in the face with a bouquet of roses, in San Diego. “Please don’t throw things on the stage,” she tweeted (in Spanish). “And if you’re such motomamis that you throw them anyway, throw them on the opposite side from where I am.” Harry Styles, whose live vibe is the essence of generosity and openness, has gotten his boundaries invaded by Skittles-tossers and chicken-nugget-hurlers. Nobody could blame him for being less than okay with it.

There’s always been a tradition of acts who encourage fans to throw their bras, panties, or flowers. That’s just consensual show-biz. A Tom Jones concert wasn’t complete without tipsy ladies pelting him with their hotel room keys. When a fan threw a bat onstage, Ozzy Osbourne assumed it was a rubber toy, so he playfully took a bite—then became the first rock star ever rushed to the ER for rabies shots after a dose of batflesh. Punk rockers often thrived on the dust-ups. At the Sex Pistols’ famous final gig, Greil Marcus reported that the band got hit with “ice, cups, shoes, coins, pins and probably rocks.” Johnny Rotten complained, “There’s not enough presents. You’ll have to throw up better things that.” Immediately, someone threw a rolled-up umbrella. Johnny replied, “That’ll do.”

But during the pandemic, for many fans, their primary source of human contact was social media, where there is no perk for non-asshole behavior and nothing but rewards for finding novel ways to be a dick. There are so many incentives to create a viral moment, so it seems acceptable to interrupt a show to make strangers notice you. Throwing your phone at something to get its attention—you wouldn’t do that to a squirrel, much less a human, so why would anyone do it to an artist they’ve paid money to see? But social-media culture breeds a new kind of fan mentality defined by parasocial resentment, where fandoms feel so possessive about their faves, they get outraged when their fave doesn’t live up to their demands. It takes a toll on simple human empathy. Our whole culture picked up so many toxic habits it will take years to unlearn.

It doesn’t have to be this way. Almost exactly two years ago, I saw a symbolic return for live music when Madison Square Garden reopened with a super-emotional Foo Fighters show. It felt like all of us in the room were figuring out from scratch how to be fans again. I described it at the time as an “invitation to start remembering how to celebrate together.” Needless to say, the return of live music turned out to be a lot messier than that—lots of stops and starts, lots of conflict and controversy, lots of fear and grief and anger.

But this is the first summer when it’s felt like live shows are really back. My music summer began a month ago with Taylor Swift on her Eras Tour. I saw The Cure and Dead & Company on back-to-back nights, two tribal gatherings that felt like the most uplifting kind of communal devotion. In the past couple weeks, I’ve seen loads of brilliant punk rock (Protomartyr, Wednesday, the Dolly Spartans, the So So Glos, Bar Italia), comeback gigs from old-school heroes (The Feelies, Love and Rockets), and a Beatles tribute band, the Fab Faux (damn fine “Martha My Dear”). It’s time travel, hitting so many different eras of my life as a music fan—past, present, and future. I’ve been trading stories with friends having similar epiphanies this month at Joni Mitchell or DJ Premier or LCD Soundsystem. We were all hungrier for this than we even realized.

The mass rapture of the live show—it’s a fragile temporary community that comes together for a night. Whether it’s in a sleazy bar or a basement or a stadium, it’s a place we go so we can experience those raptures in the dark with strangers, to be part of a story that doesn’t happen when we’re listening by ourselves. But those moments don’t happen without a certain level of mutual trust and respect. And they can’t even begin when the performer can’t trust the audience. We’re all in the crowd for the same reason—to create that space where this rapture can happen. But it’s not something the artists or the industry can conjure up on our behalf. It’s on us to be an audience that the performer can believe in. That’s really where the music begins."

#rob sheffield #posting this because its worth restating

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dulcewrites · 2 years ago

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do you think fmo djats aemond and reader would have stayed together/got married further down the line if he hadn't knocked her up? or was their relationship always meant to fail just like in other universes because as much as they liked each other (loved? or at least thought they did?), reader just wasn't The One in aemond's eyes? would he still not tell reader about catching feelings for someone else if daella wasn't in the picture or would it not even get to that point because they simply wouldn't last that long as an item?

I think if she never had daella, they probably would’ve been one of those annoying couples that come in and out of each other’s lives. Whether it be platonically or romantically. I can see their significant others at the time sort of resenting the other person bc of it (a reason why alys and Aemond didn’t work is alys sort of realizing it’s never gonna be her. Like he “chose” her and she’s still in a way second fiddle). Now obviously that could be compounded by having a kid with someone bc most people would want to have a good relationship with the father/mother of their child.

But yeah probably one of those off and on couples till one of them puts their foot down and stops the cycle. I think they love each other but sometimes that just… isn’t enough. him not even telling her something was up hurt more than the actual indiscretions. It’s similar to original recipe fmo in the sense that if Aemond would’ve been honest about his discontent with life, she would’ve at the very least heard him out.

BUT when I got this ask I did think about a universe where they like each other but do nothing about it.

There’s chemistry there but neither say anything

They stay in each other’s lives mainly through Helaena. Reader wants the band to succeed but so much of her desire for it came from Aemond (the person who really wanted it) and being his gf/wife/mother of his kid

Since they aren’t together, she kind of more indifferent. Like imagine a universe where she still goes to the same drag bar and sees/hears alys. But bc she doesn’t have she have anything wrapped in the group… she just goes about her business 😭. No convincing anyone to join the group

Who knows what this means for the trajectory of the group

I see reader in any universe for better or worse being a product of her environment/time. So she desires being kept/taking care of more than a love story. Especially since she hasn’t had a first love (Aemond). Plus her mom telling her that being secure, like she is, is better in the long run

Let’s say she ends up dating the lawyer or doctor type that her parents facilitate. She ends up marrying the guy. She’s not hopelessly in love but he’s a good guy and puts up with her

She invites the group to the stupidly expensive wedding. She finds Aemond on the balcony of the place they have the reception at. They share a cigarette. They talk about the good old days. Then he randomly is just like “you know I had the biggest crush on you when you lived with hel” (I think he knows what he is doing telling her at her own wedding)

One way this ends is reader just standing there finishing a cigarette and downing champagne bc like… what could’ve been if they both weren’t so emotionally constipated 😭. Maybe they were always doomed (ie our original modern scenario/fmo) maybe they weren’t

Now the messy ending is that years into marriage, reader is just so… unfulfilled. Her and her husband try for a baby that never comes. At this point she’s a stay at home wife, she’s not sketching/designing anymore. Just completely lost. Helaena is like, why don’t you come on the road with us for some weeks. Her husband thinks it’s an awful idea but nonetheless gives his blessing… bad idea in the long run

Reader and Aemond start an affair. The only thing that throws a wrench in it… reader gets pregnant. She’s always wanted a baby and now it's with a man that’s not her husband :(. At first, she’s like maybe if I go home, fuck my husband I can finesse this. Aemond basically says he will burn a city to the ground (wink wink) if she thinks he will let another man raise his kid. Plus reader is worried that baby will come out blonde 😭

So in the end, her husband divorces her. She’s heavily pregnant and going through it. Riddled with guilt and sadness. While Aemond is like I got the girl and a baby 🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️. He probably tries to propose. Reader refuses serveral times.

Idk how this universe ends. They def co parent in the beginning. Maybe they get married when daella is like a toddler. maybe they don't. moral is they always find each other somehow

#djats fmo au

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fridaythe13ththeseries · 1 year ago

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Reflecting - Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Micki made her way down the stairs into the store, a mug of coffee in each hand. Walking over to the paper- and book-covered desk Jack sat at, she placed his mug down on one of the few bare spots. “Anything new?” she asked, looking at the newspaper Jack was scanning intently.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing jumping out at me, no.” Jack answered, laying the paper down and picking up the steaming mug. “Thank you for this.” he said to Micki.

“What about last night? Any mention of Garth’s death?” Micki asked, leaning back against the bookshelf, holding her warm cup with both hands. The chill from the pouring rain and the terrible events of last night lingered with them both, and the coffee offered some solace.

“No, nothing. It was probably too late to make the morning edition.” Jack responded, picking up the paper once more. “None of the obituaries listed seem particularly odd. At least, not in the cursed antique sense.”

The bells over the door jingled just then, as Johnny entered the store. He made his way quickly through the display portion of the storefront and up the small staircase that led to the desk, the cash register and the small sofa, their makeshift office. He tossed a bundle of mail onto the desk, right on top of Jack’s newspaper.

“Mail was already here.” he said, dropping down on the sofa. He looked longingly at the mug in Micki’s hands, but said nothing.

“Thanks, Johnny.” Jack said, breaking the band that bound the mail and looking through the letters. “Any news on Garth?” he asked.

Johnny sighed before speaking. “Yeah, I listened to my police scanner after I got home. They are treating it as a suicide, and linking it to the deaths from the art gallery. The cops seem to believe he killed those people, they just have no idea how.”

Micki chimed in. “Well, good. He did kill those people. The method shouldn’t matter as much as the fact that he can’t kill anymore.”

“Oh, I agree, Micki.” Jack said, looking at them both. “But we can’t begrudge the police their curiosity. However, they would never accept our explanation, that Garth killed them with a cursed paint brush and used their blood to create masterpiece paintings. Best if they are left to wonder.”

Micki shook her head before saying, “Is there anyone these damn antiques can’t corrupt? Garth was such a peaceful man before he got a hold of that brush.” She looked off into the store, where a few of Garth’s old paintings were on display for sale. He had been trying to sell his work for years, with little success. Micki liked his style, however, and paid him what she could afford to add his latest work to the store’s inventory. She had always wished they could offer him what he deserved, but they never sold more than a couple of his works. Now, she wanted to throw them into the trash and never see anything he had painted again.

Jack and Johnny didn’t answer her question. The truth was, they didn’t have an answer. The items that Micki’s Uncle Lewis had cursed and sold to the world had an innate ability to find the weakest spots in their owners’ psyche, then adapt and exploit these flaws. Normal people became cold-blooded killers. And the number of antiques left to recover seemed endless. The horror kept going and going.

Micki stood up now, trying to shake off the thoughts racing through all three of them. “Anything good in the mail, Jack?” she asked before taking a big gulp of the hot coffee.

Jack turned his attention back to the letters. Scanning them, he threw the junk mail in the trash immediately. “Bills, mostly. Some invoices. There don’t appear to be any responses to our mailers today. Oh, here is a letter from Mrs. Dallion.” he said, holding the letter up for Micki.

She stared at it, then shook her head. “Just leave it on the desk, Jack. I’ll read it later.” Truth was, she couldn’t right now read another letter from Ryan’s mother. She didn’t want to hear that Ryan was having even more bad dreams. He had left here, transformed back into his ten-year-old self, and they had believed he was free of all the terrible things he had seen and experienced. But over the past few weeks, he had been having vivid nightmares, nightmares he couldn’t make sense of. When Micki had spoken with him, he had related a few of them to her. She was chilled to her core at his words. The dreams were of things the adult Ryan had gone through, with her and Jack, in their attempts to retrieve the cursed antiques. The memories, obviously, were still buried somewhere in Ryan’s mind. Even his fresh start, away from all this chaos and terror, wasn’t free from this place, from Uncle Lewis and his damned curse.

Jack placed the letter down on the desk near the Manifest, the book Uncle Lewis used to catalog all his sales. They now used this old book to track and recover the antiques, through any means necessary, so they could lock them away in the vault, keeping the horror buried in the basement of the store where it could do no further damage.

“C’mon, let’s get some more coffee.” Micki said, heading up the staircase to where the kitchen was, where her bedroom was, where Ryan’s now-empty room was. Jack and Johnny followed her, silently. None of them was eager to get back to searching for another lost item. At least not for a little while.

After the trio had disappeared upstairs, the face that had been watching them through the shop window moved quickly to the door. Opening it very slowly, very carefully, so that the bells above didn’t signal his presence, the man entered the store. With precious little time available to him, he began the search his master had sent him here for.

#friday the 13th: the series #micki foster #80s tv #louise robey #ryan dallion #jack marshak #robey #john d. lemay #chris wiggins #curious goods #johnny ventura #steven monarque #reflecting #fanfic

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bllsbailey · 30 days ago

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Bruce Springsteen Delivers Dark Message and Dreary Bomb of a Performance at Kamala Rally

I know some at RedState have trashed Bruce Springsteen’s music, but I admit to thinking his “Born to Run” days were rock ‘n roll genius and his “Born in the USA” album was a radio regular in my ‘80s life. It wasn’t till later that I found out that the anthem “Born in the USA” was actually not particularly pro-America at all, it’s about a Vietnam vet returning home to find his life’s prospects grim. Although many to this day think it’s one of the most patriotic rock songs out there, it simply is not.

Regardless of whether or not I like some of his old tunes, I long ago tired of his politics. On Thursday, though, he seemed to stoop to a new low, delivering a dark, fear-mongering speech at a celebrity-packed Clarkston, Georgia, rally for Kamala Harris’ struggling campaign. He then proceeded to croak an out-of-tune, mournful version of his 1984 hit, “Dancing in the Dark.”

Trump is a "tyrant," he proclaimed:

This was his unifying message:

Bruce Springsteen urged voters to back Kamala Harris in the presidential election, warning that Donald Trump is a would-be “tyrant”. “I want a president who reveres the constitution, who does not threaten but wants to protect and guide our great democracy, who believes in the rule of law and the peaceful transfer of power, who will fight for a woman’s right to choose, and who wants to create a middle-class economy that will serve all our citizens,” Springsteen said at the Thursday evening rally.

Like he could relate at all to the middle class anymore.

Related: Bruce Springsteen...Your Music Sucks, and So Do Your Political Opinions

This constant “tyrant-Hitler” stuff is getting awfully grating lately, especially as progressives just throw out the charge but don’t back it up. Trump was the leader of the free world for four years and showed none of the tendencies they’re so often going on about.

But if you didn’t like the message, his song was far worse. He sounded like a cat being throttled, and without the E Street Band, he seemed utterly punchless and adrift:

The internet weighed in with many messages like this one:

I also wonder if Bruce realized he was at a rally where you’re supposed to excite people? Take a look at some of the lyrics:

I get up in the evenin' And I ain't got nothin' to say I come home in the mornin' I go to bed feelin' the same way I ain't nothin' but tired Man, I'm just tired and bored with myself Hey there, baby, I could use just a little help

Be still my beating heart; that sure makes me want to run out and vote for Kamala Harris and Tim Walz. Also, was it just me, or was it a little weird to see him caterwauling about how horny he was?

Hey baby, I'm just about starvin' tonight I'm dyin' for some action I'm sick of sittin' 'round here tryin' to write this book I need a love reaction

The extremist Harris campaign certainly has their share of celebrity adherents, but are bleak performances like this one going to attract voters who are struggling to pay for their groceries? I can’t imagine they will.

It's coming down to the wire, election-wise, but the only poll that matters occurs on November 5th. To stay current on all that's going to happen, you should consider becoming a VIP member. VIP status will open a plethora of stories and podcasts here at RedState, but the most important benefit, IMHO, is that you get to be part of our rowdy comments section.

A Gold-level account gets you access to all of our sister sites in Townhall Media: PJ Media, Twitchy, Hot Air, Bearing Arms, and Townhall.com. And the shiny new Platinum level gets you all that plus access to a catalog of feature-length films, and a credit to the new Townhall store. Use promo code SAVEAMERICA for a 50% discount!

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heart-eyed-love · 2 months ago

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Your Stupid Little Fucker

Summary | Eddie teases you about a said stuffed animals that turns out you don't have anymore and he takes that to heart.

Contains | Fem!Reader, Friends-to-Lovers (eventually), Cursing…

Pairing | BestFriend!Eddie x BestFriend!Reader

Word Count | 1.3k

An | Soooo, I kinda want to make series of oneshots and drabbles and what not for a bestfriend!eddie and bestfriend!reader, so i think this will be my first installment of that… and i’ll write stuff for the timeline that will be put out, out of order but i’ll make a masterlist so everything can be ordered correctly @_@ (which is also heavily inspired by the way wheels-of-despair sets up her amazing evil woman series)

“And you still sleep with it?” Jeff laughs as he questions Gareth, whose face only seems to be getting redder. But you’re not sure whether it’s from embarrassment or building anger.

“No, I don’t sleep with it, Asshole.” Gareth glares over at the boy, “Just because I still have it doesn’t mean I sleep with it.”

“Then why do you still have it?” Grant questions with a grin. As he lifted the stuffed animal off of Gareth's bed as he seemed to inspect it.

Gareth was 100% not enjoying the interrogation on the stuffed rabbit that he had had since he was a baby. If he had known that everyone would have ended up in his room after band practice he would’ve hidden the ratty old thing.

“My mom is making me keep it.” It was a lie, and obvious one at that, but just in time Eddie cut in. Ultimately it wasn’t to benefit Gareth, but rather to put you on the spot.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, man. Y/n still sleeps with one too!” He looks over to you with a smirk, teasing tone he knows will piss you off. And he’s proud to be met with a glare already staring back at him.

“No, I don’t.” The other boys giggle, but Gareth feels your pain so he stays quiet.

“So, you don’t still sleep with that stuffed bat?” He eggs you on.

Ah. The stuffed bat. One that Eddie himself had so proudly won for you back in your freshman year. He was pleasantly surprised with himself that night at the fair, an “athletic” game that involved him throwing? And actually successfully knocking down all the pins? Yeah, he was pretty stoked, he was able to pull that off on the first try. If he had missed those with you standing next to him that experience would have been all too humbling.

But no, he had successfully won you a prize. A stuffed bat he picked, and he turned to you with an overly cocky smile for a guy who had gotten lucky with his shots.

But the bat seemed fitting, something he’d selfishly hoped you would see and immediately think of him.

“For me?” You ask with a smirk as he hands the plush over to you.

“Yeah, well I don’t have much use for it…” He’s trying to act all cool about it, but he knows he only even purchased tickets to play that game for you.

“Well, thank you, kind sir.” You smile up at him.

“Yeah, whatever, dork.” He shoves your head playfully and turns away before the slight redness of his cheeks can be noticed by you.

To say the least, that night was a night both of you remembered fondly. One of your favorite memories is Eddie gifting you that stuffed bat, and now he’s using it to try to embarrass you?

“No, I actually don’t, Eddie. I got rid of that thing.” Lie, big lie. It currently sat smack dap next to the pillow you slept on but you weren’t going to admit that. It probably wasn’t the best thing to lie about but right now, you didn’t care, he was trying to embarrass you and you weren’t going to let him get the satisfaction.

But why should you be embarrassed? Is it weird that you kept it after all this time? Is it weird that you feel so attached to it because Eddie gave it to you?

But in the slight blinded anger you felt, the fall of Eddie’s cheeky, teasing attitude had gone unnoticed by you.

“You got rid of it?”

“Yeah, kinda just outgrew it I guess.” He watches you shrug like it’s nothing, like he had won that thing especially for you.

And truthfully, as Eddie thought back to it he couldn’t actually recall if it had been in your room the last time he went in there, he really just couldn’t remember.

Thankfully for you though, cause yeah, it was still in there then too.

The boys have already moved on to another subject, and Jeff and Grant recklessly went through Gareth's comics as he screeched at them to be careful snatching it away from Grant. You walk past Eddie and over to the boys, taking your own time to look through the piles, trying to forget lying directly to Eddie’s face.

He stood moderately frozen at the news you just broke to him, but he pulled himself out of it and rejoins the groups, staying rather quiet as he went through the comics.

Staying way quieter than Eddie normally would all the way until pulling back up to your trailer that evening. And you finally crack…

“What’s wrong?” You asked with a brow raised in confusion as you looked over at the boy.

“Nothing, wrong. Why would something be wrong?”

“Cause you’re barely talking… and while I do love this peace and quiet…” you tease but to no avail, “it’s not like you…”

“Did you actually get rid of it?” He turns to you suddenly, and you’re partially surprised by the harsh tone.

“What?” You know exactly what but you don’t know how to get into this right now.

“Did you actually get rid of it? Like did you give it away or did you just throw it in the garage or something?” His tone becomes more annoyed by the second, and you actually fear you might have made him mad. Which wasn't what you had even wanted in the first place, you just wanted him off your back.

“I never said-“ But he’s quick to cut you off.

“Because honestly it’s kinda shitty if you did either way.”

Now you’re rolling your eyes and he’s widening his. Why don’t you care about this?

Why isn’t he letting you speak? Instead of even trying to explain you just slide out of the van as Eddie watches with furrowed brows.

Were you actually walking away from him right now?

“Are you coming?” You ask over your shoulder as you approach your front door, and you stand there as you watch Eddie scrambling to turn his van off and hop out to meet you at the door.

You both walk to your bedroom silently, and Eddie trails behind you kind of confused but ultimately letting this play out. And as you open your bedroom door you walk a few feet in and you point to the soft plush sitting next to your pillow.

“Where it literally sits every single time you come over, where it sits every single day. I don’t know how you actually believed me.”

“Why did you lie…?” He asks softly.

“Cause you were obviously trying to embarrass me for still having it.”

“What? No! I was just messing around, I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad about it, Y/n…” He tries to defend, “Sorry… I’m glad you still have it, relieved actually.”

“Yeah, Well no shit, I thought you were about to start crying in the van…” You tease, lightening the moment.

“I was not about to cry.” He glares, “It’d just be pretty rude, considering I almost threw my back out trying to win that stupid thing for you.”

“Almost threw your back out?!” You cackle out at his dramatics, “Eddie, the pins weren’t even 10 feet away from you.”

“Yeah, I put my athletic abilities to the test for you and this is the thanks I get?” You pull fingers into quotes as he mentions his athletic abilities, and he rolls his eyes at you.

“You did all that just for me?” You tease with a smirk, “You really won that for me?”

“Yeah, whatever. Thought it would be nice.” He rolls his eyes again and plops onto your bed, purposely knocking the stuffed bat off your bed, causing you to let out an audible gasp.

“Oh my Gosh, you did not just do that!” You screech as you dramatically pick him up and cradle him to your chest with faux shock.

“What? That stupid fuckers causing a lot of drama.” He smiles playfully.

“Yeah, well, he’s my stupid fucker.” You say setting the bat back down in its rightful spot. Smiling down at Eddie as you do.

And he can’t help but smile back.

God, he hopes he can be your stupid fucker too.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson angst #bestfriend!eddie x bestfriend!reader #heart-eyed-love

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hoodielord · 4 months ago

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Danny's room is crowded. Cujo and Billy had passed out on the end of Danny's bed. Jazz had taken the bean bag chair in the corner and John had taken a chair from the living room and shoved it next to Danny's bed. The room was quiet except for the slow but steady heartbeat from the monitor Jazz had insisted they hook up. Danny was healing fine but a bit slow.

Billy hadn't known what to do so he sat and waited. The kid looked lost; his hero complex is probably nagging him because he can't do anything to help.

Calling Jazz was the first thing John did when he was back in the house of mystery. Dealing with a hovering attentive sister was better than dealing with Jazz when she was kept out of the loop.

Dealing with those two and Danny had been easy dealing with the league not so much. They would not stop messaging his bloody communicator so much that he wanted to throw it out the window. They were like teenagers in a group chat. Well some of them were.

The really annoying ones are the bats. Batman and Red Robin had messaged asking for a report on Danny's condition. Nightwing had responded by saying “That's bat for, ‘how is the kid doing?’” Back Bat had sent him paragraphs of emoji which made his communicator buzz for a bloody half an hour. Few of the other Bats chimed in with either insults to his intelligence or threats of violence.

The rest of the league was barely any more bearable. Wonder Woman had messaged him about the “Little Warrior’s” condition and asked if there was anything that they needed. This was the only message he responded to.

“He’s healing a bit slow for him but he’s getting better. And rest a lot of rest.”

A few days later. Zatanna had showed up with a few boxes from the league. The Bats had given Danny and Jazz quite a few things. A few blankets A teal-colored one with flowers all over it and, of course, one covered in stars. Several things in the boxes had labels each with a message. There were a few medical books with a red sticky note covered in vines that read:

“We knows you gotta look after the little ghostie but don’t forget yourself too.”

And in a different handwriting:

“Take breaks when you need to kid you're not in this alone anymore.”

The sticky note was signed H.Q. and P.I.

Two teddy bears, one with a stethoscope and a teal headband. The other one is a polar bear with an astronaut’s helmet. The bear dressed as a doctor had a teal stress ball with purple swirls on it. John had thought the bears were a little childish then he read the sticky notes.

“Not childish. Comfort.” Signed by Black Bat.

“You stress yourself out too much Jazz take time for yourself. Also, the teddy bears are for comfort. I helped decorate them!” Signed by Spoiler.

“Damn bats. Are we sure they’re not prophetic or some shit?”

Zatanna just shrugs with a smile on her face as she pulls out some of the meals that “Penny One” and apparently Red Hood had prepared with handwritten instructions on how to properly reheat them.

John had gone back to shifting through more of the boxes when a loud squeak sounded from the box. He reached into the box and pulled out a squeaky toy with another note.

“Daniel and I had been working on Cujo’s training when he was last here in Gotham. When he is well I wish for them to return to Gotham.”

Signed Robin.

On the back of the note, is a small message from Nightwing “ Robin’s not the best with expressing his compassion but I’ll tell you he rewrote this message like forty times till he decided on this one.”

Oracle, Red Robin, and Signal had given Jazz and Danny tablets so they could work on schoolwork and listen to music. John knows that Danny had talked a lot about Signal and the music that they like. John had mentioned to Danny that he was once in a band to which Danny responded “Sure old man.” with a roll of his eyes. But John catches him listening to one of his old CDs later. Cheeky brat.

The gifts from the rest of the league had given them much of the same gifts; with scrolls of battle tactics from ancient Greece and several other cultures, Stars maps and charts from different planets, and an apple pie.

John moved the food into the fridge and placed the scrolls and maps back into the box before taking it back into Danny’s room. He set the scrolls and maps on the workbench and the bookshelf. Jazz had to head back to classes but promised to be back later that afternoon so he placed her bear next to her old Einstein bear on the bean bag. The tablets were placed on the bed’s side table and the astronaut bear was placed next to Danny as he slept. His heartbeat monitor had returned to a steadier pace, at least to him. Suddenly his communicator beeped.

“Damn it what now?”

The message read: “The Fentons have been arrested.”

Prompt idea dpxdc

Bad reveal Jack and Maddie Fenton contact the Justice League for help in the capture of Phantom, who killed/kidnapped their son.

Danny has been an associate of the Justice League Dark division for close to a year at that point, and they have been aware of both identities and his status as a Halfa nearly the entire time

#Haha I wrote more!#This was fun to write #again I may or may not write more to this #I do have some plans for this but very little focus #dcxdp #dpxdc #I was going to include more gifts from different JL members but idk what they would give

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elxctrics · 1 year ago

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my friends say i should act my age. what's my age again? that's about the time that she broke up with me, no one should take themselves so seriously with many years a head to fall in line. why would you wish that on me? i never wanna act my age. what's my age again?"

(—) ★ spotted!! JESSE CARR on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 30 year old looks like MACHINE GUN KELLY but i don’t really see it. while FORMER CHILDSTAR/SINGER is known for being ENERGETIC my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be CHAOTIC i swear, every time i think of them, i hear WHAT'S MY AGE AGAIN? by BLINK 182 {he/him / cismale}

˗ˏˋ ＊ ‣ 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 :

connections || musings || instagram || headcanons

𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓼

name: jesse joe carr

age: thirty

nicknames: jess, jj

date of birth: june 1st, 1993

astrological sign: gemini

place of birth: beverly hills, california

occupation: former childstar/singer/actor

voice claim: harry styles

label: the wild child

positive traits: energetic, charismatic, magnetic, witty

negative traits: chaotic, immature, messy, irresponsible

characters/celebrities he’s like: harry styles, macaulay culkin, cook from skins, chris keller from one tree hill, peter pan, jenko in 21 jump street,

𝓫𝓲𝓸𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓹𝓱𝔂

there was no way to avoid the spotlight with the parents he had.

born as a son to rita carr, famous film actress, and reggie carr, hollywood film producer, jesse was born to be a star, and his parents made sure of it.

at just five years old, jesse starred in his first movie, and with his mother's acting skills clearly passed on to him, his parents knew they struck gold.

for years, he was type casted as the smart and witty young boy in a slew of movies - from home alone to my girl and a bunch of made for tv movies, disney channel shows and everything in between.

but when puberty hit, jesse wasn't the cute kid with the big blue eyes anymore.

his awkward phase hit him hard and not even mom and dad's influence could get him to land a starring role like he had gotten in his childhood.

so, homeschool was pushed aside and he began attending regular school...well, as regular as prep school in beverly hills could get.

at first, he experienced extreme bullying, people making fun of him for being the kid from home alone and a child star, so jesse knew that the best way to beat the popular kids, was to join them.

jesse began acting out - throwing wild project x style parties in his family's mansion while they were off filming projects and spending more time playing pranks and causing trouble than he ever did in class.

one day, his pranks went too far - pulling a fire alarm resulted all of the sprinklers to go off in the school, causing thousands and thousands of dollars worth of damage and the school looked at him as a liability and he was expelled when he was just 17 years old, a few months short of his high school graduation.

completely directionless, his parents scrambled to find something for him to get into when long time family friend simon cowell was over for dinner one night and said he was working on putting together a boy band and needed a name in the group that would jump start it's success.

with jesse's already messy reputation, he knew the public would be beyond curious and thus, made him the front man of the group.

he had never tried singing a day in his life - but anything in the performing world came easy to him and over night, jesse turned into an absolute heartthrob - touring the world as the front man to the band, living his absolute best life and wildest dreams that had fallen so easily into his lap.

it didn't take long for him to become notorious for his relationships with hollywood's most a-list celebrities - including older women and super models, and jesse never had any shame in his game or tried to hide it.

he also didn't care what the label told him to do. when they told him they wanted the band to keep a more clean cut, put together image, jesse disappeared for weeks and came back covered in tattoos...and the fans loved it. when they told him not to curse or make dirty jokes during shows...he did and the fans went crazy. it seemed that anything he touched turned to gold and after a while, the management stopped interfering and let him do his thing.

however, his bandmates soon got sick and tired of this and after a year of internal fights over jesse stealing the spotlight and making things all about him, the band broke up, which jesse truly didn't care about. because his management team already had a debut album ready to go already written for him to kick off his solo career.

six months after the band dismembered, he released his debut album 'jesse carr' and has released two albums - 'fine line' and 'jesse's house' since then.

to combat the negative reputation his band tried to create around him, his new image is one of 'treating people with kindness' and inclusivity, which his fans eat right up.

he has an excellent marketing team behind him that keeps the world thinking that he's become this wonderful guy when the truth is, he's anything but.

he's greedy, he's selfish, he's manipulative. and he truly doesn't care about anyone or anything - years of growing up in the spotlight and seeing how quickly people would turn on you when you weren't what they needed anymore did that to him.

riding the high of his grammy winning third album and touring the world in his flamboyant and avant guard glittery outfits, he was also recently cast in his very first film project since he was a kid, 'don't worry darling.'

#jesse #hillzintro

0 notes

from-the-clouds · 4 years ago

Text

Kiss Me More (Part II) - Zemo/Reader

Masterlist || Part One

Summary: Part two, read part one if you haven’t already! Sam & Bucky put reader in charge of looking after Zemo....again. Series loosely inspired by this song.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Kissing, heavy petting, mentions of sex, minor TFATWS spoilers.

A/N: Wow! I was so shocked on the feedback I got on the first part of this story. It has nearly 800 notes. I’m not used to my writing getting that kind of attention so I really appreciate the love. I decided to make this into at least a 3-4 part series and there will be eventual smut, but I feel like there’s something sweet between these two that goes beyond an obvious physical attraction, so I do want to build that a bit before we get there. This weekend I rewatched TFATWS & Civil War because I’m officially obsessed with Zemo lol. Please let me know what you think, and let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist. :)

-----

“Keep an eye on him.”

Y/N watched Bucky and Sam split off again. That was now at least the third time she’d heard that phrase since she arrived in Riga. Little did they know, she was probably the worst person to be put in charge of Zemo. Truthfully, it was starting to be a little insulting.

It was unclear why she’d been brought along on this mission, when half the time Sam and Bucky were talking in hushed tones just out of her earshot. There was always more to the story than they told her, but this time, it felt like she was more out of the loop than ever.

She adjusted the neckline of the sweater she wore out of an abundance of caution, checking subconsciously to make sure it hadn’t exposed the mark Zemo had left on her from the day before. It was a discovery she’d made that morning, and persisted despite her efforts to cover it up with makeup.

“According to those two, I must be the best at babysitting you,” she muttered under her breath. It was petty, so she wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to hear. But he did.

“Babysitting?” Zemo lifted an eyebrow.

“You know, a nanny, a governess….whatever a Baron’s equivalent is,” she said, looking him in the eye for the first time that day, which was a mistake. He looked so handsome in that long, fur-lined coat, tall and refined, hair styled perfectly. There had to be warrants out for his arrest since escaping prison, and in his current getup, he was hard to miss.

It wasn’t easy to ignore the stifling tension between them. The Baron hadn’t left her thoughts since she’d closed the door on him the evening before. Now they were alone again. She couldn’t decide if that was thrilling or terrifying, so she decided on both.

“It’s nice of them to give us some alone time,” Zemo stepped close to her, one gloved hand pressing between her shoulder blades. Despite the cool temperature outside, it was the first thing today that had her shivering.

“Walk with me,” he commanded sternly. She saw no opportunity to refuse as they started in the direction opposite of where Bucky and Sam had disappeared.

“Zemo-”

“Helmut,” he corrected her. “But go on…”

“We have to focus on figuring out where Donya’s funeral will be,” she said, feeling his hand slide down to settle on the small of her back, trying to inch away, but he just pulled her closer. “We can’t waste time.”

“I know Riga inside and out, that won’t be as difficult as you and your friends think,” he murmured. His proximity was already suffocating. Or maybe comforting. It was hard to tell. “Tell me, what is your business with them? You aren’t an Avenger. This was my first time hearing your name.”

She snorted, finally finding the strength to pull away, and he dropped his hand. That was one thing that had confounded her. He was confident, took liberties with what others would allow, but knew when to stop pushing. There was something alluring to his nature.

“I’m not,” she responded, wondering how much she was willing to share. When she stole a glance out of the corner of her eyes, his head was lowered, leaning in, listening intently for her response. She wondered if he really cared, or if he was good at pretending. It was easy to believe that he did.

“Bucky and I aren’t that different,” she continued. “That’s why we’re friends. I’m not a super soldier, but I was taught how to fight, how to kill. I followed orders for too long without questioning whether or not I was doing the right thing. And at least now, I think I am.”

“You think,” he repeated, and corrected her again like he had the day before. As much as she wanted some kind of clever or quick quip back, she wore her heart on her sleeve for the moment and shrugged. There was nothing to defend when she still wasn’t sure what responsibilities she had in this world.

Zemo halted, and she paused too, turning back to look at him. “So you were an assassin,” he murmured, reaching out. Nodding slightly, she lowered her eyes when his gloved thumb brushed across her face. The buttery, overpowering smell of leather took her over as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I would’ve never guessed. Du bist so süß.”

Her knowledge of German was limited, but she could see a flash of what looked like affection in his eyes. He couldn’t be lying, could he? She wondered. She wanted to trust that he wasn’t, wanted to identify every good part of him she could, so she could justify the overwhelming attraction she felt towards him. Something in her just kept pulling forward against her will, like a magnet.

“You’d be surprised,” she answered, but didn’t pull away. The intensity of his gaze made her feel weak, but there was something strangely reassuring in his eyes. It was just the two of them, standing on a crowded sidewalk.

She rose her hand to clasp around his, frowning when she felt the hard loop of a ring on one of his gloved fingers. It had gone unnoticed by her, until now. He still wore a wedding band.

It would have been easy to vocalize the observation, gauge his reaction, try to regain some upper hand and remind him who exactly he was dealing with. But, it would’ve been pointlessly cruel, as she knew what that felt like to answer that question. Those days were behind her, now.

As if the universe was scolding her, a loud car horn broke through the perceived silence. His hand dropped from her face, and they began to walk again.

“I had lots of time to think in prison,” he said after a heady pause in conversation. “About the things I’d done. Whatever intentions you have, to someone, you’re always the enemy. What I thought was important, trying to serve the greater good, it isn’t always worth the trouble. I was trying to protect what I had already lost, the places and people I’d taken for granted.”

Deciphering his words, she took a moment before responding. “That’s actually...very insightful,” she said, partly surprised by what he’d shared, appreciating that he felt her vulnerability, and matched it in his response.

“I know you’re stunned I’m not a brute,” he answered, increasing his pace to a determined strut rather than a lazy stroll. She was forced to keep up with him. “You’ve been told what to think about me by Sam and Bucky.”

She scoffed. “Not just them. The entire world. All the people you’ve hur-”

He halted and turned to face her so quickly, she collided with his chest and her breath caught in her throat.

“I’m not that man anymore,” his voice was nearly a growl, disgust laced in his features as he looked down at her.

But as soon as she recognized it, he became expressionless again, backing away. Falling back into step beside him, they continued to walk, a bit faster than they had been before. She followed him, at this point convinced that she might get lost without his guidance, but a little startled by his sudden change in behavior.

“What do you think of Riga?” he asked her as they cut through an alleyway. His voice held none of the venom that it had a few moments ago, so she wondered if she’d just hit a sore nerve.

“It’s beautiful,” she answered, admiring the old brick buildings and fine architecture. “But I think I haven’t had much of a chance to appreciate it.”

“Have you been thinking about me?”

They ducked under an alcove, and she realized he’d carefully led her off the crowded streets. It was much quieter here. She suddenly didn’t feel as protected as she had been with him in the open. The temperature in the shaded space was much lower than expected. And he was standing over her, waiting for some response she didn’t know if she could give.

“I haven’t forgotten about last night, liebling,” he continued.

Of course she had been thinking of him. Nearly nonstop. What they’d shared, what it meant. She hadn’t been able to sleep until she relieved herself, fingers rubbing her clit and delving into her warmth, whimpering his name when she finally came. Still, it had done little to quell the ache inside her.

It was a horrible thing, she’d decided. Objectively horrible, and unprofessional. There was the consideration of accessibility. What did he see in her beyond a means to an end? Was she really going to throw everything she’d worked for away to a man who was going to use her to scratch an itch?

Too much was at stake, Sam and Bucky’s trust, her reputation, her job, and she couldn’t allow it to go on.

But oh, how much she wanted it to.

“Yesterday was nice,” she straightened up, holding her own. “I won’t lie to you.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up slightly in a self-satisfied smirk.

“But I’m not foolish,” she continued. “Coming on to the first woman you see after you get out of jail? Seems pretty convenient.”

At first, the Baron tilted his head to the side, his brows pulled together at her words. But after a moment, the smile returned, and he chuckled. “Is that what you think this is about?”

“Don’t insult me, Helmut,” she said sternly, trying her best not to feel embarrassed. She was only being honest.

“Are you always so severe to yourself?” he asked, tutting lightly.

It would have been better to say nothing. Why give him anything at all?

She didn’t answer his question, just backed away from him and began walking in no particular direction, wanting only to increase the space between them and regain her common sense. That was impossible however, as she was jolted backwards before she even knew what was happening, a firm hand on her upper arm, and she was chest to chest with Zemo once more.

“We were in Madripoor together. I could’ve had my way with many women there if I wanted. But I didn’t.”

“Please-” she rolled her eyes.

“If all I wanted to do was fuck someone, I could have done it by now,” he stalked forward, the air pressure around them dropping, weighed by the tension hanging thick between them. “But that’s not what I want. I want you.”

His words, spoken in a soft, low purr rattled away every bit of resolve she had left in her. Some last ditch effort found her stepping backwards, but her body met the brick wall behind them and she realized he had her cornered.

In more ways than one, she thought.

Taking in a shaky breath, she looked up at his eyes, clouded with lust. “I know you want me,” he said, not a shred of doubt in his voice. But why should there have been? He was right.

Her eyes darted around, like someone or something around them was going to jump out and save her from herself. It didn’t go unnoticed. “There’s no need to be scared, liebling. I feel it, too.”

With that, he closed the gap between their lips. He tasted sweet, like the candies he’d been eating back at his flat. Turkish delight. She was drowning in him again, his scent, his touch, everything about him enveloped and beguiled her. Her shirt had bunched up slightly somewhere along their walk and his gloved hands explored the exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

She surrendered, letting him tease open her mouth and claim her wholly. It was still bad, she knew. But there wasn’t any last bit of self-control left in her.

The layers of clothing between them didn’t allow for the same proximity she’d had to him the evening before. Groaning in delight and frustration, she reached up to tangle and rake her fingers through his hair, as his fingers curled around the top of her sweater, revealing the sensitive skin of her neck.

“Don’t hide this,” his lips left hers as his eyes focused on the stamp of affection he’d left behind the day before. “Let them see.”

“You know I can’t,” she responded, sheepishly pulling it back into place. Studying her with amiable consideration, his hand rose to brush tenderly across her cheekbone.

“I thought you’d come to me last night,” she confessed, drawing away slightly, shocked by her own admission. But right now, she didn’t feel the need to put up as much of a facade. He looked positively virile; panting, his cheeks flushed and hair mussed, pupils blown out as he focused on her. To know she was the cause of his current state of disarray gave her an immense amount of satisfaction. A buried, salacious part of her wondered what else she could do to make him look even more unkempt.

“I considered it,” he said, sounding almost timid. “But I want to do this right.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss beneath her ear. “In private, so no one can disturb us,” he continued, lips moving down her neck. “We can take our time, you can be as loud as you’d like.”

The mental image he was currently painting for her was doing very little to strengthen her convictions, whatever those had been. The thought of her legs wrapped around his torso, naked bodies pressed together sent a bolt of electricity through the pit of her stomach, radiating outwards. She wanted his lips on every inch of her skin. Aching at the possibility, the present tease of his teeth nibbling on her collarbone wasn’t helping.

“You know we can’t,” she didn’t try to stop the thought as it came out of her mouth.

“What is there to lose?”

Everything, she thought, but didn’t answer. She couldn’t really, as his gloved hand was trailing slowly under her jacket and sweater, against her bare skin, and cupping her breast through her bra. Whimpering, she couldn’t control the way her body arched against his.

Hooking her knee on his hip, she let him press forward, feeling the warmth of his excitement through his trousers and her jeans. He ground against her once, teasingly, and she moaned softly into his mouth.

He was the one to pull away, and she was thankful he did. “Think about it, liebling,” he said softly, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. “Du hast die Kontrolle.”

“We can’t,” she answered again, but even she didn’t believe herself. Raking her hands through her hair and adjusting her rumpled sweater, she straightened up. “We have a job to do.”

Brushing past him out of the alcove, each step she took away from him gave her the self control she desperately needed. She glanced over her shoulder to see him reluctantly trudging behind. At this point, she wasn’t foolish. There were only two ways this could end.

----

Part III

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jarofstyles · 3 years ago

Note

hey besties, pls do a football player Harry (soccer in case ur american lol) and physical therapist y/n !!

I know absolute shit all about football (soccer bc we are American) but we can give it a go!!! Plz don’t be mad I don’t know anything about it cause it’s ✨make believe ✨

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

—-

He was a little shit.

A beautiful, charming, irritating, little shit.

When Y/N has signed on for this team, being the medic was something she had been passionate about for years. Having her own accident and making it so she couldn’t properly play anymore, it was her mission to still be involved in the game so how. Y/N’s own injury and healing process had her become more and more interested in the profession, and here she was.

It wasn’t everything she had dreamed of, as nothing ever was, but it was good. She got to sit field-side every game, close to the action. And every injury she got first look at. She helped the guys with their stretches, their previous injuries and keeping them from Re-injuring themselves, taking care of them and making sure their physical shape was the best it could be.

In general? She was happy. But there was one man who was a thorn in her side and a pain in her crotch.

Harry Styles.

The man who decided it was his personal mission to follow her around like a puppy dog. Popping up in her singular moments of peace during game day. Texting her and asking about very, very small twists of ankles and giving her the ‘🥺 maybe you should come and look at it…’ whenever he did so.

Not to mention his complete and utter want to get into her pants.

Now it wasn’t as if she couldn’t handle a few sexual jokes. Y/N was a big girl and knew 99% of the time, the guys on the team knew their limit. And Harry? Harry, in reality, was a gentleman. Never touched her inappropriately, ever. But the problem was… she kind of wanted him to.

There was no actual clause against staff members and players being together or hooking up. Nope, just frowned upon. Maybe a slap on the wrist. However Y/N knew, she knew that the moment anyone caught wind of her potential affections for any team member or acting on it? It would end with everyone thinking she slept with them to get the job.

Y/N worked long and hard. Tireless hours for make sure these men were healthy, fit, and at their best. She wouldn’t sleep with anyone for any job, and she was actually respected by this team which was something a lot of women weren’t in this field. She could not and would not throw it away for a good dicking.

Fuck, did she want to sometimes.

—-

Harry had these hands. The perfect hands, in her opinion. Big, strong with thinner fingers. Long fingers. A good sized palm, not overly veiny, just perfection in male hand scales. Luckily (or unluckily, whatever way you’d put it) she got to handle them often.

“S’sore today, doc.” He winced, sitting on the table in front of her. Harry’s wrist throbbed. It was rainy, and it was usually a wreck when it was the perfect condition. The ache was annoying, and he knew she had a solution.

Her lips pouted softly as she gently took the hand in place, thumbing over the part of the wrist where rhe injury had occurred. She had learned a while ago where to press, how to rub and get it to lessen before she wrapped it up. “Yeah… old injuries tend to never let you forget.” She sighed, pushing her glasses up into her hair.

Harry never could get over how fucking gorgeous Y/N was. From her nose to her lips, the pretty sparkle in her eye, the curve of her hip… he was obsessed. Not to mention the fact that she was so gentle with him. So kind and sweet, though he knew he got on her nerves with his teasing sometime. She could handle it and he always tried to watch to make sure he wasn’t going too far, but he couldn’t help it.

He was a silly boy with a bit fat crush.

Y/N didn’t bite for any of them. Everyone had attempted when she first came on, testing the waters. Her pretty face was welcome to all the blokes in the team, and there was something incredibly attractive about a woman who could heal. Nonetheless, she never gave in to anything.

In Harry’s case, he knew it was different. He could see her smile at some jokes, see her get the bumps on her skin when he brushed her a certain way. But she avoided the eye contact. Avoided the touches. And it drove him mad.

Of course she wouldn’t know he had actual feelings for him because he was a giant coward most of the time. He hid his affection in the dirty jokes and the teasing squeezes of her waist and teasing. He was a thick skinned man but a full rejection form her would hurt.

Her soft fingers gently massaged over the wrist, making him groan. His head tilted back and he let it out, hissing slightly when she pressed too hard. “Oooh, don’t worry sweetheart. Y’know I like it to hurt a little.” His wide smirk made her roll her eyes huffing under her breath.

Y/N was not having a great day. She had been harassed by an Ex all fucking night over her new job. Making all the damn assumptions that she was getting ‘trained by the team’ in a much more vulgar way, and she had cried half the night. To say she wasn’t in the mood was an understatement, but she was trying.

Harry was not what she needed today, because it made her feel worse. Her blatant attraction to him made her feel guilty. She should be professional and leave it with. The way she had squeeze her legs tighter while he groaned didn’t help her case. The ugly words of how they’ only kept her around for a potential fuck’ was ringing in her head.

Harry though, he was a little oblivious. Her hands were so talented, and he didn’t watch her face for once as she hit a good spot again and he let out another remark.

“Jesus, that’s good. Do those magic hands work everywhere?”

That was the straw that broke her. It wasn’t his fault necessarily, he was just playing. But her eyes watered, hand yanking away as she turned from him, walking over to the bench. Trying to compose herself was hard as the tears burned so hard in her eyes, hands shaking slightly.

Harry startled, not used to that. She never flinched away like that, never ignored his remark and walked away. Usually told him to fuck off, rolled her eyes, something. But the energy in the room immediately shifted and he was uncomfortable. What had happened?

Cautiously, he cleared his throat and stood up from the bench, licking over his dry lips as he spoke again. “Uh… Y/N?”

“S’all I’m good for, right?” She muttered under her breath. Frantically wiping under her eyes she tried to focus on the paper in front of her but she could feel Harry approaching.

He furrowed his brow, not sure if he heard correctly. “Wha-“

Y/N whipped around fast, eyes teary and wet. “I said, that’s all I’m good for right? Only good for my hands and sex and all that pleasure you can get from me?” She hissed. “Only good for a romp in the sheets and a pretty face to heal your wounds and put on band aids. Only good to make you get off and feel good and then what? I’m left here with nothing.”

The tears left her, her hands shaking as she grabbed her bag. Harry felt his stomach drop. Never, ever had he wanted to make her feel like that. Her crying? That wasn’t something he ever wanted to see again. He felt like he had taken a ball to the gut, hard. Those eyes he adored being full of pain, full of tears was his own personal hell.

“Y/N… wait, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“ he tried to follow her to the door, stopping abruptly when she lifted a hand up to him. Her stomping had made him nervous. Now she was leaving without talking to him and he felt like a complete dick. It was their normal teasing, but he had crossed a line.

“Don’t. Just…. Just leave me alone. I’m going home.”

—-

As much as Harry had wanted to chase after her, he had already made her cry once. He wasn’t risking it again.

The icky, gross feeling in his stomach followed him all day. He was gutted. Not only has he apparently crossed a line with someone he respected, he had a fucking crush on her. The man was convinced no other feeling was worse than a crush being angry at him. Even if it sounded juvenile to place it like that.

Harry liked Y/N. He never ever wanted to make her upset in any capacity, let alone feeling like a sex object or violated. He prided himself on respecting women. And he had fucking failed. He needed to make it right, and fast.

He had found her address. In her employee file, and he knew that was bad but he needed to check on her. Regardless of what happened beforehand, she was upset by him enough to leave and go home and he wanted to make sure she was genuinely okay.

It was an overstep and Harry knew it. He had to try, though.

He arrived at her door step with a box of cupcakes and some flowers. Gently kicking the floor, he heard the door open and his heart broke a little more.

Y/N standing in front of him with swollen eyes. She had been crying, seemingly a lot. And she looked upset still. Though he expected her to close the door in his face and tell him to fuck off. But she didn’t.

Instead, she broke into tears again, throwing herself into his chest. Her arms wrapping around his waist, he nearly tumbled over but righted himself as he startled. Quickly he found himself recovering, wrapping his free arm around her and holding her. He was able to maneuver slightly and drop the cupcakes on her entry table, flowers as well before having his arms free.

“Hey…. Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” He whispered softly, gently placing a hand on her back. Rubbing it up and down, letting her cry into his tee shirt. It was worrying. Whatever happened was beyond him, but he wasn’t going to let that take away from the fact he had added and made it worse.

“I’m sorry.” Her muffled response was sobbed into his shirt. “I’m sorry for yelling… and saying you thought those things, you were playing and I…” she pulled back worth tear streaked cheeks and Harry’s look of pure concern making her lip wobble. “You didn’t do it. It was… he kept sayin’ that all the team wants is in my pants, and you make me feel guilty because you’re so…. Beautiful, and I never slept with anyone to get this job! Never. And then he wouldn’t leave me alone-“ she hiccuped, looking up at Harry as he caressed the back of her head.

“Who, lovely? Who wouldn’t leave you alone?” He asked with a calm tone. Of course he wasn’t. Someone was harassing her. And Harry would fucking take care of it. It boiled his blood to think of someone making her feel less than.

“My ex.” She sniffled again, slowly calming. Harry had that quality, she thinks. “He-He broke up with me for taking the job. Said… said that I was going to be a personal whore for all of you. And not do my job.” She took a shuddery breath. It was embarrassing admitting this to him, but he had been on the receiving end for a meltdown that wasn’t his to fix.

“Well, can I tell you something?” He brought his thumb up to wipe away some of the sticky tears from her cheeks. “You arent. You’re no one’s whore. You’re a respected, talented and intelligent member of our staff. You so happen to be incredibly beautiful, which obviously makes people find you more bewitching… but I know that we all look at you as a professional talent. They may have tried their luck at the beginning but you laid down the law quickly and they all understood.” He whispered.

“Me? I was trying my luck, because you’re incredible. And I think you’re lovely. But that isn’t a conversation for now. Let’s make some tea, hm? Relax. I brought you some cupcakes. I need to properly apologize for being inappropriate to you. Regardless if it was a joke…”

—

He sat next to her on her couch. The poor girl was better now, washing her face and a mug of tea in hand while Harry had helped himself to a vase and put the flowers inside. Carnations. He thought they were pretty, didn’t know the name until Y/N had fawned over them.

“I’m sorry for freaking out on you.” She said softly, her big sweatshirt swallowing her up. Before Harry could interrupt, she put a finger up. “I know that you were just playing, Harry. I let you flirt with me like that. And I enjoy it.” She could feel herself get warm in the face. “If you’ve noticed, I let you get away with it. I enjoy it. And you didn’t do anything out of line. I was sensitive… I was still raw and I hadn’t had much sleep because he had blown up my phone and regardless he was telling me things he said in person over and over again. So…” Y/N shifted in her seat and used her sweater paws to bring the drink to her lips. “When you came in… I felt guilty for finding you attractive. For liking what you said to me.”

Harry sat for a moment, quiet. So she had liked it…. And felt guilty. Now knowing the context? It made sense. For the life of him he was trying not to hold in to the fact that she enjoyed it, but he couldn’t. It made him excited.

“Okay. That makes sense. Usually.. I do a better job at reading your physical cues. Sometimes I can see something isn’t the right thing to say because you’re tense already. But I was in my own world cause you were making the pain go away and I felt good. It isn’t an excuse, though.” He gently grabbed her hand once she set down her warm tee, thumbing over the knuckles.

“I felt like such a dick. I still do. You know that? And it isn’t because I’m attracted to you. But it’s because I didn’t think about the position I’m putting you in by flirting.” He moved a little closer. “I would never try and jeopardize your job. I’ve been blinded by my own feelings for a while and I was trying to feel it out but I didn’t think to think it was because someone else or a group of people would look down at you for it.” He frowned.

It was so unfair. They wouldn’t care if he slept with her. But they’d ridicule her for sleeping with him.

“I just want to let you know now as well… I wasn’t trying to come on to you to have a hookup.” He hummed. “The feelings I’ve got are genuine. Alright? They aren’t just too get into your pants. And I never want you to feel as though that’s your only purpose. Ever. You have so much worth, and while I’m positive you don’t need me to tell you that, I want tok anyways.”

He was unreal. She really thinks so. How did a man just… be like him. He was a fan favorite and had charm but behind the scenes he was even better than anything they said.

“Yeah. I think I was afraid. Because… I’m the same, you know?” She shyly admitted. “You’re charming and I didn’t want to admit I let your charm get to me, but it has. It has very much. And I like you. I don’t know what to do about it, but I think it’s only fair I admit it myself as well when you’ve put yourself out on the line.”

Harry’s grin grew, dimples pocketing in his cheeks. She liked him back. His heart was ringing in his ears, the shy little look into her eyes making him want to explode. Fucking adorable girl making him feel such intense emotions…. It was incredible.

Thank god. He thought he was going insane.

“We don’t have to do anything in the sense of our job right now. But since we both know… would you want to explore it? I would say privately. Just get to know each other better. Talk. Hang out. Cook food together… maybe kiss.” He smirked slightly at the end, making her let out a laugh. Her laugh soothed his Damn soul.

“I think I’d like that.”

——

Part II maybe? Who knows

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