Ladybug [h.s.]

introduction

The strands of his hair greedily soaked up the grease running off the tips of his fingers like an onslaught of rain against the rooftop. The broad stretch of his bomber, drippy caramel brown, pulled against his shoulders, unscathed, prized. He was always a little bit different than the others. Suave. Smoother. The razor edge of his jaw the only knife he'd wield as weapon.

He wasn't soft, or gentle, despite the way he made sure the girls crossed the street safely. Despite the way his dimples would dip into his cheek like a scoop off the top of a root beer float when he grinned. He didn't hesitate to throw a fist, to call a rumble, to rev his bike a little too reckless. The hairs along his collar bristled in warning when he became angry, porcupine spines waiting to strike. He was a greaser, through and through.

Something had changed in him - no longer the mud pie connoisseur of our youth. No longer the boy to chase rabbits just to try for a graze of their soft fur against his fingertips. No longer the roly poly bug detective; the helping hand to the ladybug collector. He was, in no way, the same Harry I had known.

Harry.

The Wasps looked up to him - a leader, in some right. He commanded the boys and they listened without an ounce of hesitation, hanging off of his every word like the kids on the monkey bars. The girls drooled over him shamelessly. Maybe that's because he wasn't pushy with them - he was never rough with women, even when the boys were around. Maybe because they longed to hear his gravel voice rumble out, "you dig, babygirl." To feel his scratchy knuckles trace down the slope of their cheek. His shiny headlight lips driving empty streets in the dark, revving hot rod purrs blanketing the silence.

Harry was always a little bit different than the rest; a little bit better than the rest. Captivating. A debonair movie star hidden behind the safeguard of a leather jacket. The drippy yellow yolk of an egg protected by its stark white fortress. He was fully his, and maybe that's what made him so enthralling. So compulsive.

Maybe I've always been addicted to him, traversing through a nicotine cloud even though his lips never so much as kissed the end of a smoke. It was just...inside him. Burning through his body and peeling out of his skin, encompassing my body and coaxing me into his hive.

The ladybug to his wasp.

Characters

Delilah (Deli) Butler, 24

Harry Styles, 26

Delilah's parents - Marion & Theodore Butler

Delilah's best friends - Eleanor & Dorothy

The Wasps - Cliffton, Harry, Jack, & Dean

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Oh hi!! Welcome to my little 50's fantasy!

As always, I'm simply borrowing faces - my characters do not in any way represent the individuals whose faces I am borrowing. This story will contain mature themes and language, including some violence, sexual content, manipulation, and the like. We've got a gang of greasers on our hands, what else would you expect?

This is the most me thing I could ever write and it's entirely for my own self-indulgence, and I cannot wait!!!! You are more than welcome to hop on the back of the bike if you would like to join! :)

All of my love, forever. Stay Gold.

See you later, alligator!