#seriously high rise jeans feel awful | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yikesharringrove · 4 years

Note

Steve gets a massive dildo as a joke gift from Billy, but then he invites him to watch as Steve tries to fit it inside :3c Not sure if Steve gives up halfway through and lets Billy fuck his ass open and then uses the dildo on him afterwards. Or if he succeeds and comes on the dildo as Billy fucks it in and out of him, just to have Billy use his lube-filled, stretched out hole as 'sloppy seconds' >:3c

“Bill, oh my God.”

The toy was heavy in Steve’s hand, so huge he couldn’t wrap his hand entirely around it.

Billy was grinning at him.

“Happy Birthday, Sweet Thing.”

“Is this a fucking joke?” It had to be. Sure, there were both into playing around with Steve’s hole. Stretching him open and stuffing him full. But this is just a whole other level.

The toy was nearly as long as Steve’s forearm, and just massive. Jet black silicone with all kinds of ridges and bumps along the shaft.

“What, you doubtin’ your own talents? Don’t think you can take it?” But Billy’s eyes were crinkled in a smile that meant he was joking. That he probably found this monster and laughed at it in public for ten minutes straight before buying it with a smile on his face.

Steve reached up and whacked Billy’s shoulder with the toy. It made a pleasing thump against it.

“You’re an ass. I’m expecting a real gift.”

Turns out the real gift was a surprisingly thoughtful box with some of Billy’s t-shirts, some truly god-awful poetry he had written about Steve his first week at Hawkins High, and a book on tape Billy had recorded himself of his favorite he kept trying to get Steve to read, Giovanni’s Room.

It was all sweet, and intimate, even with the new set of reasonably sized anal beads tucked in the box as well.

And it made Steve forget about the monstrous black dildo.

Until he was laying in bed that night, nothing but one of Billy’s shirts he had just gifted him on, Billy himself spooned tightly against Steve’s back, he didn’t think of the dildo standing on it’s base next to the coffee table downstairs.

And he got a tiny little idea. Something that probably wouldn’t even work.

But, he can always try.

Billy never gave too many shits about his birthday. And this year was going to be mo different.

He’d probably head over to Steve;s for the weekend, watch shitty movies that Steve loves far too much and eat all his snacks. Just like every other weekend.

But then his dad sat him down. Said he was taking Susan out of town, out of state, all the way down to Oklahoma to visit her brother. They’ll be leaving Friday morning and won’t return until Tuesday night. Billy’s in charge and they expect him to be on his best behavior.

He felt actual, genuine, excitement inside for his stupid birthday in what was probably years.

Andhe explained everything to Steve in a hushed tone over the phone that same night, told him to come over Friday after school, and expect not to leave Billy’s bed all weekend.

And that little tiny idea Steve had had since his own birthday popped back into his head.

“Close your eyes.”

Billy could hear rustling, Steve digging something out of his bag, hopefully ditching his clothes while he was at it too, before the bed shifted, settling under Steve’s weight.

There was more shifting, the unmistakable sound of a bottle of lube opening, slick globs of it dripping sloppily onto something.

“Open them.”

Billy nearly choked at the sight before him.

Steve just smiled coyly.

“Happy birthday.”

He was kneeling on the opposite end of the bed, wearing nothing but those fucking white socks that went all the way up to his thighs and drove Billy absolutely wild.

He was already hard, the tip of his dick flushed the same dark pink as Steve’s cheeks.

He was working copious amounts of lube of the massive dildo Billy had bought him as a fucking joke, making demure eye contact with Billy as he pumped his hand up and down, twisting his wrist like he was jacking the thing off, not just getting it slick.

“I skipped my last three periods to get myself ready for this thing. Edged myself the whole time. Took a few pictures too. You’ll be seeing those later.” The lube squelched as Steve kept stroking the huge fake cock. “How do you want me?”

“Steve, Christ. Are you, are you seriously gonna try and take that thing?”

“Thought it’d be a nice treat for you. Watch me see if I can take it. Maybe you can help me out. Hold me down and force it in if I give up.”

And this isn’t shit they did very often. The kinda sex that needs thorough discussion and safe words, and shit. But, fuck if it wasn’t some of the best sex Billy’s ever had.

All Billy could do was palm himself through his jeans, try to relieve some of the pressure of his rock hard dick straining against his fly.

“Then turn around. Wanna see your greedy hole split open for that thing.”

Steve did as he was told, a glint in his eye and a tiny little smile on his face.

He turned until he was facing the edge of the bed, his back to Billy, and he leaned forward, spreading his cheeks open with one hand.

His hole was already well-used. Covered in lube and deliciously slick looking. Pink and a little puffy, the way it looked when Billy’d been a little too over-zealous with Steve that night. But it was gaped as open as Billy’s ever seen it, fluttering and clenching around nothing.

And Billy’s seen Steve take some toys he thought were gonna be a struggle in one graceful motion.

But this thing was big.

And Steve Steve sat back up and positioned the toy so the base would be held steady by his own ankles, Billy really didn’t know if it would fit.

“You say the word and we’ll stop, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Steve turned to look over his shoulder.

“I got this.”

And he lined up the tip of the toy, and pressed it inside.

The stretch was immediate.

Steve had fingered himself silly and taken a ride on just about every toy he owned, but this thing was on it’s own level. It burned as it opened him up, the pressure building so quickly Steve had to stop and take a few breaths with barely any of the toy inside.

He relaxed himself as much as he could, and when the initial discomfort dissipated, he sank down a few inches onto the toy.

It flared quickly, and the stretch was was back, splitting him open and causing him to ache.

“Fuck, Billy, this thing is huge.”

“Yeah, that’s why it was a goddamn joke gift.”

“You shouldn’t give me sex toys if you don’t want me to use them.”

“Right, sorry. I forgot you’re an insatiable slut.”

Steve turned to look over his shoulder, winking at Billy before taking a deep breath, and sinking down just a bit more.

He tossed his head back, letting out a long moan.

Billy was ridiculously hard. Ridiculously painfully hard.

“It’s so fucking deep.” He’d barely taken half of it and it felt like the thing was already in his throat. “I bet you’ll be able to see it bulging in my stomach.”

“Baby, don’t tease me like that. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Hurt me yourself.” Steve lifted up a bit on his knees, swaying his back slightly more, and pushed himself further down on the dildo.

He slid nearly three-quarters of the way down, bracing his hands on his knees.

“I-fuck. I can’t do it. I can’t take anymore.”

He was breathing heavily, his legs shaking.

It burned, his hole stretching more than it ever had around a toy. The tip of it was deep in him, making him feel like it was scrambling his guts.

The bed shifted, and Billy was pressed to his back, his cock rigid and pressing through his jeans against Steve’s ass.

“Lift up for me, Sugar.”

He pressed his hands under Steve’s ass cheeks, just above where the white socks rested on his thighs, cutting in and giving him a little roll above them, helping him push up and off the toy.

And Steve felt so fucking empty, he nearly whined.

“I think you just need a little more help.” He squirted out more lube, coating his fingers.

He pushed all four into him, his knuckles sliding in as well.

“Fuck, Stevie, you’re gaping.”

“It’s so big,” Steve whined dramatically. He knows what Billy likes, and he’s not above putting on a bit of a show for him.

Billy curled his fingers around, pumping them in and out of Steve’s stretched out hole, lube sliding down his arm and dripping onto the bed. It was so gross and hot.

“God, Bill. It feels so fucking good. Love your fingers.”

“I know you do, Sugar. You’re so pretty.”

Steve relaxed against him, leaning his head back to rest it on Billy’s shoulder, pressing sloppy kisses to his cheek.

“Such a perfect gift. Watching you fall apart on this huge thing. You��re going to be so loose when I finally fuck you.”

And at that he took his fingers out, replacing his hand with the thick toy, his hands settling on Steve’s waist.

And he began to push Steve down onto the toy, slowly letting it split him open.

He got him back to where he was before, nearly to the base of the toy, and let him rest for a moment.

He let Steve take a shaky breath, and pressed.

Steve cried out as he sat all the way down on the dildo, laying back against Billy, breathing hard with his eyes closed.

“Oh, fuck, Billy. It’s so fucking big, I-God,” he babbled, his chest heaving.

“You gonna ride it? Fuck yourself with the big cock in your ass? Or can you even move? Are you so stuffed full you’re stuck right here?”

And Steve’s thighs tensed, trying his best to rise up on the dildo, Billy reaching down to keep the base where it was.

He whined as it barely slid out of him, collapsing back down.

“Billy, I can’t move.” And God, Billy so wanted him to start crying. He already sounded like he could, like the burning pleasure of the toy was beginning to make his brain go cloudy and the sensations overwhelming.

Billy took an east step off the bed, leaving Steve straining to hold himself upright, staring at Billy with panic in his big eye.

“Don’t worry, Baby. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Billy just pushed Steve backwards, making him yelp as he landed on his back against the pillows, the toy stuffed deep in his ass, shifting inside of him and making him writhe. “Jus’ wanted a better view.”

Billy kneeled carefully on the bed between Steve’s legs, taking his time to press a kiss to the soft skin on the inside of each of Steve’s knees, feeling the soft long socks, his gorgeous fat thighs stretching the band tight.

He placed on of those long legs over his shoulder, spreading Steve open enough to take in the massive toy keeping him nice and open.

And he wrapped his fingers around the base, and pulled.

Steve all but screamed as the toy slid out of him, the notches and grooves along the shaft making him squirm.

Billy stopped when just the tip was left inside Steve, gave him a second to catch his breath, and pushed.

Steve’s eyes flew open, and his back arched off the bed, his legs fucking shaking around Billy as he came, spunk covering his stomach and chest, some of it even reaching his chin. He grabbed Billy’s forearm, blunt nails digging into his skin.

And then it stopped, Steve going limp against the pillows, taking a few deep breaths with his eyes closed.

Billy loved watching him cum. It was a fucking show, mewling noises and muscles rolling under perfect skin. He’s so beautiful.

Dark eyes fluttered open, cheeks pink and hair messy on Billy’s pillow.

“How you doin’?” Billy grinned down at Steve.

“I’m exhausted.”

Billy pressed another kiss to the inside of Steve’s knee, gripping the base of the dildo, and pulling it out.

Steve whined, his hands re-curling around Billy’s arms.

The toy popped out of him with a squelch of lube.

And what a sight.

He was gaped open, his hole red and covered in lube, twitching slightly and empty.

Billy couldn’t get his jeans open fast enough.

He yanked down his fly, pulling out his stiff cock, an immediately pushing into Steve.

He was so fucking loose, and he whined again as Billy pushed into him.

“Billy,” Steve drew out the word into as many syllables as possible. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah, but it’s my birthday. And I haven’t gotten off yet. Now tighten the fuck up. You’re so fucking open. Can’t even feel anything.”

Steve pouted up at him.

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that? Because I’m pretty sure you’re the one that shoved that thing in me.”

“It was your idea-”

“You bought it.”

Billy sat back on his heels to look down at Steve.

“Whatever. Just, you know. Gimme a little more to work with.”

Steve huffed, rolling his eyes dramatically, melting further into the pillows behind him as Billy fucked back into him.

He clenched around Billy, still glaring down at him.

“That’s it, Sugar. I’m close already, just let me use your sloppy little hole,” he panted, already fucking Steve with a brisk pace.

Watching Steve had gotten him all pent up, and he just needed a little friction to push him over the edge.

And then Steve shifted, titling his hips up, letting Billy get deeper than before, and tightened up as much as he could.

Billy groaned, burying his face in Steve’s neck. He bucked his hips a few times, and spilled inside Steve, adding to to the mess inside him.

He rolled off of Steve, wiggling out of his jeans and tossing them on the floor.

Steve looked ready to fall asleep, and Billy manhandled him around to tug the blanket over them both.

“Bill, I gotta go get cleaned up.” His voice was muffled, his face smooshed against the pillow, Billy draped against his back.

“Here, just let me,” he trailed one hand down, skimming the pads of his fingers over Steve’s side, and pressing three fingers inside of him, “make sure you don’t get my bed all messy.”

“Hope you enjoyed your birthday gift, because I’m never doing this again.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love being gaped like that.”

Steve just muttered incoherently, burying his face into Billy’s pillow.

“That’s what I thought.”

#lemons #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #yikes writes

153 notes · View notes

delos-mio · 3 years

Text

Out Of The Woods - college!AU - PART 3

A/N: I’m partial to this chapter, but perhaps that’s just me. I’ve not gotten a lot of feedback on this series sooooo idk if I’m just sharing it for me at this point lol but I’m having fun and that’s what matters, right?! Anyways I’m always around for thoughts, feelings, questions!

Only an essay, a few chapters of reading, and a couple shifts at work separated you from your hang out with Nikolai. You found yourself wondering what he was up to, what made him smile that day, what he’d look like on top of you now. That last one tended to linger a minute before you violently shook it from your head. You hardly knew each other anymore, not to mention you had a boyfriend- you couldn’t let yourself start to fantasize about him like that. But he was so sweet and gentle, so sassy and smart. It didn’t hurt that he was still painfully handsome either.

You were sitting at work, more or less twiddling your thumbs, when you felt a buzzing against the white countertop of the receptionist desk you sat behind. When you looked at the screen, an unknown number appeared. You unlocked your phone and opened your texts. Seeing the first line preview made your heart leap into your throat immediately.

N: Hey it’s Nik. Just thought you should have my number too :)

Y: Hey there you glad you didn’t lose that paper

N: I could never! What are you up to?

Y: Just at work, pretty slow today so I’m kinda bored

N: Hopefully I can keep you a little company. Where do you work?

Y: John Richard Salon- it’s that one downtown across from that hot dog place

N: Oh yeah! Seen it a million times. Do you do hair? Is that a secret talent of yours?

Y: God no lol I’d be horrible at it. I don’t have the dexterity for it. I’m just their receptionist

N: “Just” please I’m sure you’re their best employee

You stopped to roll your eyes, but also couldn’t stop the heat from rising on your cheeks.

N: Do you like it?

Y: It’s pretty good for a low responsibility job- it pays the bills too so I’m not complaining

N: That always helps

Your name had been called from off to your side, making your head snap up and you locked eyes with Deja, who was easily your favorite coworker. “And just what has you smiling like an idiot? Hm?” she asked with a smirk and leaned across the counter from you.

“Remember that guy I was telling you about from the party?”

“Oh yeah, the one you fucked in high school?” she teased.

You let out a long sigh. “Well, he just texted me. We’re supposed to hang out on Friday,” you said confidently, raising your chin in her direction to show her there was nothing of consequence going on between you and Nikolai.

“Hang out. Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Deja looked at you with a raised eyebrow and you could only respond with a look of your own.

“Oh my god, shut up,” you laughed. “Seriously. We haven’t hung out in years and it’s nice to have someone to hang out with who knows me. And wants to hang out with me,” you added under your breath.

“Don’t tell me Matt is back on his bullshit…”

You simply raised your thumb and index finger just slightly apart, squinting at the space between them.

As you were catching her up on the last week, John walked over and flipped over the open sign, locking the glass door in front of him. You took that as your sign to help clean up so you could get out of there as soon as possible. The girls all pitched in, sweeping up the few stray clumps of hair on the old wooden floor and wiped down all the counters for the morning.

While you were on the bus for the short ride back to your apartment, you suddenly remembered the conversation you were having with Nikolai before you closed up shop. You cursed under your breath and pulled out your phone again, quickly thumbing a message back.

Y: Sorry! I got caught up closing

N: No sorry needed, you were at work after all

Y: lol I suppose that’s true. They don’t pay me to sit around and look pretty

N: They should

Y: Oh god lol stop

N: Have I told you that I’m really looking forward to Friday?

Y: No but I’m looking forward to it too

You had since made it home and crawled into bed, happy to finally be off your feet and talking to the boy who disarmed you with a single smile. For the next few hours, the two of you texted back and forth, mostly about classes and work, but you couldn’t stop yourself from occasionally flirting with Nikolai. You really needed to work on actively not doing that, but you allowed yourself one last evening of toying with him. When the clock rolled over to 1am, the lids of your eyes were beginning to grow heavy and a long yawn escaped from your lips.

Y: I think I’m going to fall asleep on you I’m sorry

N: Holy shit I didn’t realize it was so late

N: I should get to bed too. I have a presentation in the morning

Y: Don’t let me keep you up!

N: But darling that’s all I want ;)

N: Sweet dreams- I’ll see you Friday

Y: Goodnight Nik

-----

Friday finally came and you were nervous as you fixed your hair one last time in the wide bathroom mirror. You opted for tight jeans, a pretty low cut tank, and a zip up hoodie. There was no way you were going to just hang out at his house looking like you were ready for the club, but you still wanted to remind Nikolai that you were cute. Genya had already left for the night, so you weren’t able to have a second set of eyes give your outfit the final approval; you could really use the reassurance right about now. As you casually boosted your chest one more time, there was a light knock at the front door. You opened it to Nikolai in a skin-tight tee for your school and a light canvas jacket. His hair was perfectly disheveled and his jeans clung tight to his thick thighs. You caught him giving you a long onceover before giving you a wide smile.

“You look amazing,” he breathed out, pulling you in for a tight embrace. You let your hands wander over his broad back, exploring the pull of his muscles under his jacket.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you smirked as you pulled apart. You locked up behind you and let Nikolai walk you downstairs and out to his car.

“Pizza?” he asked, one hand low on your back, the other gesturing vaguely you assumed in the direction of the car.

“I thought you’d never ask,” you smiled from ear to ear. Immediately, you could see the tension leave Nikolai’s shoulders. As you stepped foot into the parking lot, the sky decided it was the perfect time to open up and unleashed a sheet of rain unlike any you’d had so far this fall. You yelped as it began to pour, throwing your hood over your head. Nikolai acted quickly and threw off his jacket, holding it high above your head to keep you dry as you both splashed quickly to his car. This gesture made your heart swell; you were starting to think Nikolai may be a real lift knight in shining armor. He opened your door and made sure you were out of the rain before joining you and whipping his soaked coat in the backseat. You were both laughing at the situation and he was visibly relieved that you took the whole hiccup in stride. “Let’s get fucking dry ,” you laughed and he needed no further request to set off in the direction of his apartment.

Nikolai actually didn’t live too far from you, you realized when he pulled up across the street from the brown duplex. It was still raining when you parked and you again sprinted to the front porch in a desperate attempt to stay a little dry. When you got close to the door, you realized that it was a lot louder inside than you thought it would be. Nikolai must have noticed too because his jaw immediately set, irritation flashing behind his hazel eyes.

“Fucking Aleks,” he muttered under his breath before pushing the door open. A large party was taking place, unbeknownst to Nikolai. There were people passing in front of them, a lively game of beer pong in process, and more than one person going through their cupboards. Nikolai gestured for you to head inside and he slammed the door shut behind him. “Do you mind waiting here for just one second? I have to talk to Aleks quick,” he asked quietly into your ear, his hand resting on the side of your face. You nodded and he gave you a small smile before setting off for the kitchen. Aleks was laughing against the fridge with a couple other guys, barely registering it when Nikolai was standing in front of him, arms crossed tight over his chest.

“Dude! I thought you said you were going to the baseball house!” Nikolai scolded.

“Nikolai! I’m so glad you’re here, man. No, we decided to have people over here instead. We’re always at the baseball house,” Aleks smiled, giving Nikolai a friendly punch to his shoulder; Nikolai didn’t budge an inch.

“I kinda had plans here tonight, remember?” he said through gritted teeth, giving a small nod back towards where you stood. Aleks’s face dropped as it all came back to him.

“I am so sorry man, I totally forgot.”

“Obviously,” Nikolai scoffed.

“I mean it. It slipped my mind. I’m really sorry dude.” It was hard for Nikolai to stay mad at Aleks for long, if at all. You saw Aleks give Nikolai a long hug, evidently sorting out whatever disagreement they just had. Nikolai made his way back to you, a little less high strung.

“C’mon,” he said and took your hand, leading you around the corner to a short hallway. He led you into a room and quietly shut the door behind you. The first thing that struck you was all of the maps and works in progress strewn across his desk and hanging on the walls. You walked around in awe and marveled at Nikolai’s decor. He had numerous prints of classic paintings and frescoes, almost all of them related to myths or historical events.

“Nikolai, this is amazing! It’s so,” your head was spinning as you looked at all of his art, “it’s incredible.” You turned back to him and he was right behind you, an amused smile pulling at his lips.

“I’m so sorry. I thought we’d be able to come and spend some time together without 80 other people.” He looked genuinely upset that he couldn’t follow through with his plan of having dinner and talking all night on the couch.

“Hey, it’s ok. We can still hang out. Why don’t we make an appearance, play a game of beer pong or whatever, and then we can watch a movie in here or something?” you offered. Nikolai’s face lifted a little at that and he lightly squeezed your hand, nodding his head in agreement. “I gotta get out of this hoodie, though. It’s fucking soaking,” you laughed.

You shed the wet garment and hung it carefully on the back of one of the chairs near you. Nikolai had changed out of his wet shirt as well; he must have moved in the blink of an eye because you didn’t even notice him switch clothes. When you looked at him again, his gaze was fixed on you, his expression hard to read. “What is it?” you finally asked with a nervous laugh as punctuation.

“You’re so pretty,” he said with a small smile. You looked down at yourself- your hair was a complete rat's nest, shirt and jeans soaked through, and though you hadn’t looked in a mirror you could feel your makeup was a mess too. And here he was, arguably the most handsome man you’d ever met, lost for words as you stood in front of him. You bit down on your bottom lip and shook your head before taking him by the hand and leading him back into the party.

Nikolai grabbed each of you a drink and you wandered together to the beer pong table where Aleks was taking his last shot with his partner. Aleks grinned when he saw the two of you walk up and declared he was playing you next after he ‘kicked their ass’. He sunk the last shot and whooped loudly, high-fiving with his partner. Nikolai took his place on the opposite end of the table with you and re-racked the cups.

“Sorry I’m about to embarrass you in front of your date, Nik,” Aleks smirked arrogantly. Nikolai only bounced the light ball against the table top, catching it swiftly on the back of his long fingers. He repeated the trick, unbothered by Aleks and his shit talking, also not correcting him that you were not in fact on a date.

“We’ll just see about that,” he laughed as his first shot sank directly into the front cup. You giggled with him and took a shot of your own, somehow making another shot. You’d played a few times before, but you didn’t consider yourself skilled by any means- certainly not as skilled as these boys. Nikolai was so proud of you, he threw his arm over your shoulder and pulled you into his side. “Good luck, man.”

Aleks was frustrated as his winning streak began to slip through his fingers. Nikolai was clearly the better player, which was making Aleks crazy, though he had also had about five more drinks than Nikolai. You only made one more shot after your beginner’s luck, but Nikolai didn’t mind at all. He happily carried your team and took care of the remaining cups, always encouraging you when you made a lousy toss. Before long, Nikolai was flicking his wrists high over his head like he was making a free throw and sinking the winning shot. The small crowd around the table cheered and Aleks grumpily crossed his arms. Nikolai gathered you in his arms and lifted you easily off the ground, spinning you with him as you celebrated your very first beer pong victory, all thanks to Nikolai.

“Better luck next time!” you taunted sarcastically and Aleks finally gave you a small smile. The next team in line took your spot and you slid back into the crowd undetected and back to Nikolai’s room. “I didn’t know you were good at every sport,” you teased before taking a seat on the edge of his bed.

“Is beer pong really a sport?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. He walked over to stand in front of you and ran his hand over your finally drying hair. “Movie time?”

“Yes,” you replied simply, possibly a little too quickly. Nikolai smiled at you before walking over to his bed. He pulled back the covers and crawled onto his side of the bed, patting the spot next to him, inviting you in. He had chosen some movie to put on evidently, but you truthfully didn’t notice what. You flicked off the lights and jumped in next to him with a smile. Nikolai laid out on his back and you curled up comfortably on his chest.

“I had a really good time tonight, rain storm and surprise party and all,” he said, his voice low in your ear.

“Me too,” you said with a smile, still distracted by the art on his walls. “What inspired your decor choices?”

Nikolai turned his head to look at the picture of the Minotaur over his desk. “As you know, I’m a history major,” he started. “My concentration is in classical studies, specifically the Hellenistic period.” He rolled his neck to face you again. “That’s actually my favorite myth.”

“You know, for being a creative writing major, my Greek mythology is a little rusty,” you prompted, leveling your most charming smile at Nikolai.

“Would you like me to regale you with the tale?” he asked with a dramatic flourish.

“I’m all ears, Mr. Lantsov,” you laughed, positioning yourself so you could rest your chin on your hands laying on his chest and gaze up at him.

“Alright. So, Minos had just become the ruler of the island of Crete, but was still in competition with his brother for power. He prayed to Poseidon to send him a sign of the god’s favor- a bright white bull. Minos was tasked to sacrifice the bull to honor Poseidon, but he was so enamored with the bull that he decided to keep him, believing Poseidon would accept an alternate sacrifice.” Nikolai absently petted your hair.

“But he didn’t?”

“He did not,” Nikolai laughed. “As punishment, Poseidon made Minos’ wife, Pasipahae, fall in love with the bull.”

“Such a Greek god thing to do.” You smiled up at him.

“Isn’t it?” Nikolai beamed back. “Pasiphae had the master craftsman Daedalus create a hollow, wooden cow for her to climb in so she could mate with the bull. And thus, the Minotaur was created. Pasiphae did her best to nurse and raise the Minotaur as a babe, but he grew too fast and became unruly. Minos consulted the oracle at Delphi on what to do, and as a result commissioned Daedalus to construct a gigantic labyrinth to house the Minotaur under the palace in Knossos.”

“Years go by, and one of Minos’ sons is killed by the Athenians, who I guess were jealous of a string of recent victories by the king. From here, there are a few versions on why Athens begins sending youths as tribute, but the most common is that Minos waged and won a war to avenge the death of his son. As the losers, Minos required the Athenians to send seven youths and seven maidens to be sent every seventh year to cast into the labyrinth to be consumed by the Minotaur.”

“The third sacrifice came around and the hero Theseus,” Nikolai started, contempt clear in his voice, “volunteered to go as a sacrifice to Crete to slay the Minotaur. He told his father, Aegeus, that he would put up a white sail when he came back home if he was successful, but would have the crew put up black sails if he was killed by the Minotaur. Once he was in Crete, Minos' daughter Ariadne fell head over heels for Theseus and helped him navigate the labyrinth. In most versions of the story, she gave him a ball of string so he could retrace his steps and a sword to slay the beast. Story goes that he killed the Minotaur and led the Athenians out of the labyrinth, sailing away with them and Ariadne away from Crete.”

“I’m gathering that you’re not a Theseus fan,” you said, eyes still trained on Nikolai’s face. “Why?”

“A number of reasons.” Nikolai paused, clearly deciding on how much he wanted to nerd out. “One being that on the way back to Athens, Theseus abandoned Ariadne on the island of Naxos. He forgot, however, to put up the white sail like he told his father he would. Aegeus saw the black-sailed ship approach and threw himself into the sea, presuming Theseus was dead. But doing so just secured the throne for Theseus. The other being that he murdered the Minotaur.”

“But didn’t the Minotaur kill a bunch of kids?”

“Or was he fed children after being abandoned by his mother, unaware of any other way to live? I don’t subscribe to the idea that the Minotaur is a monster. There’s also quite a bit of evidence that suggests Ariadne saw him as a brother, having to make the impossible choice of her ‘abomination’ of a brother and a man who had convinced her he was in love with her.” Nikolai spoke with such passion and knowledge that it made your stomach tighten. This was a Nikolai not many got to see, a Nikolai you wanted to hold and kiss and laugh with. Fuck, you were in so far over your head.

He’d never been more attractive to you than in that moment. The light from the TV dancing on his perfect cheekbones, his hazel eyes dark as he spoke. “I don’t know. I have a soft spot for him. I feel like the Minotaur got a raw deal.”

“Well, you’ve made me a believer,” you smiled and the way Nickolai beamed back at you made the heat rise in your chest.

“You should stay here tonight.”

“Nik,” you sighed, rolling off him. “You know I can’t do that.” He had no idea how badly you wanted to just scream out ‘yes’.

“I know, I know,” he conceded, staring straight up at the ceiling. “Really wish you could, though.”

“Someday.”

“Is that a promise?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.

“I’m not the oracle at Delphi,” you said over your shoulder, making him snort. “I can’t tell the future.”

TAGGED: @agentsofsheilds

#Nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone #grishaverse #prince nikolai #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov au #shadow and bone au #grishaverse au #nikolai lantsov fanfic #shadow and bone fanfic #grishaverse fanfic #masterlist #ootw

48 notes · View notes

ushibug · 4 years

Text

First Valentines | Katsuki Bakugo

A FIRST VALENTINE SPECIAL ALL THANKS TOO @nicnicnik ! I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: none! Soft Bakugo

Summary: a first valentines for both you and Katsuki and for once, Katsuki feels nervous.

A/N: this was a bit difficult for me to write but I hope you enjoy a soft Bakugo!

Bakugo Katsuki was many things; strong, loud, aggressive, competitive. But what he was not, was nervous. He was never nervous, it was a foreign feeling situated deep within his gut. A feeling almost always covered by the burning need to win, to fight, to be number one. So why was he nervous now?

Sunshine dripped through the leaves of the trees that littered the park. Yellow weeds webbed the grass, adding some sort of colour to the green all around. But what added colour was the painting of love that shows cases itself in the middle of the scene. A blanket stretched over grass, on top of a bag of food, and two teenagers nervously spending their first valentine's day together. Bakugo Katsuki never would admit that he was nervous. A rare feeling that was usually seeded deep in a layer of the need to win, to fight but it seemed to bloom as he watched you intensively, making sure that you were always in good spirits, smiling and laughing.

He had draped that blanket you two sat on more than 10 times trying to perfect the placement. He stayed up late at night, finalizing the food you would eat with him. He made sure he even dressed nicely, wore jeans and a well-fitted shirt, some nice shoes. He even brought a jacket, more for you than himself, in case you got cold like in those romance mangas he’d read. It was the first valentine's day for him, a valentine's day that mattered. One that finally was able to happen after months of coming to terms with his feelings for a girl, then a few more months of starring across the class and hoping she got the message, and then more weeks of dotting little dates, then finally, a couple. It was a valentine he wanted to make special, he wanted it to be perfect - he was a perfectionist after all. Not only because it was the first-ever Valentine spent with a significant other but one that was spent specifically with you.

You. You. You. God that’s all that was in his head recently, it made him grind his teeth together. Because not only was he annoyed that you plagued his brain like a disease but to also ground himself from the butterflies he’d get in his stomach.

One last glance. The basket that carried the best of Bakugo’s culinary skills placed itself beautifully on the blanket, the chocolate and candies he brought leaned against it. It looked good? Right? The lavender flower arrangement in his hand was being twirled nervously as he waited for you to arrive and the box in his pocket suddenly seemed heavier.

“Katsuki!” You sang from ahead minutes later, waving dramatically as you hugged a box to your side. It was cute how you ran to him, a little skip in your step and stumble as well. His clenched jaw slacked as it was replaced with a smile in the corner of his lips. You were quick to reach him, looking up with a giddy grin and nervous heat on your cheeks. “Happy Valentines'!” You piped, rocking on your heels. He felt goosebumps rise on his arms as he watched the way you laughed. He swore it was the wind, had to be. “Happy Valentine's.” He tried not to sound rough, hoped it didn’t come out scratchy. Thankfully the way you smiled again made him feel like he said it right.

“Let’s go sit idiot.” He sighed grabbing your free arm and dragging you to the blanket, finally feeling more relaxed. You were in awe, thanking the universe for the chance to be this love, this wanted, this cared for from Bakugo Katsuki. “Bakugo.” You breathed out as you sat down. “This is beautiful.” It was a praise Bakugo needed to look away as it rung through his ears due to the blush that scattered his face. “I know.” He grumbled, it made you smile again. “Oh! Here open your gift!” You push the box to him, hands clasping together in anticipation. He was excited, this was the first time he’s received a gift he actually wanted. His hands delicately opened it, being met with green and orange paper pieces and multiple goodies. Spicy ramen, hot Cheeto’s, candies, a little white teddy bear, all surrounded the expensive-looking cologne. A shiver of doubt ran through your blood. “I hope you like the snacks and the smell, it reminded me of you and I-“ Bakugo reached across the box for you, pulling you into his chest. An awkward position with a hand behind your head but it was impulsive, his heart needed to be calmed, needed to be served by the coming explosion of passion and infatuation. It was a quiet hug, one that made you close your eyes and take in his natural high warmth. He pulled away, reaching into his pocket to bring out the box that was hidden. “You better like.” Eyes met yours in a playful glare as he held a small box in front of you. You reached up delicately, grabbing the fuzzy square and opening it. Eyes widening at what it held inside: A beautiful silver bracelet with a small minimal heart dangling on it presented itself, shinning under the sun that escaped through the trees above you. “It’s perfect!” You exclaim, Bakugo scratched at the back of his neck. He was sure it wasn’t enough but Denki insisted it is minimal since it’s your first ever Valentine's day spent together.

“Seriously, Katsuki it’s perfect.” You repeat, leaning in with a wrist out insisting he puts it on you himself. By now he was blushing and falling into a hole of all the things he shouldn’t be: nervous, angsty, sweet, and in love. But what could he do when the person who makes his heart clench in this newfound giddy feeling is smiling up at him, praising him, pushing to be his best through it all. Like the trees growing all around this scene, that’s how effortlessly this love became.

#HAPPY VALENTINES DAY BUGS!#boku no hero imagines #bnha imagines #bnha headcanons #bnha fanfiction #katsuki bakugo headcanons #mha x you #my hero academy fanfiction #bnha x you #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugo x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo x reader

111 notes · View notes

davidpastrsnack · 4 years

Text

back for more - matthew tkachuk

a/n: first of all idk what this title is i just wanted to post this lol. back with more matty but this time with a splash of smut. wasn’t expecting it to be so filthy but here we are. let me know what you think! (it seriously means the world to get feedback)

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You grew up in St. Louis, becoming quite close with the Tkachuk family when they moved in next door. You were basically inseparable from Brady and Taryn, but Matthew had been another story. He knew exactly how to piss you off, somehow managing to strike a nerve with every comment he threw your way. It didn’t help that he made you so nervous, he was attractive and he knew it. No matter how much both your parents tried, there was no way you two could peacefully coexist. Safe to say you avoided him at all costs, which wasn’t a lot with how close your families were. When Matthew left for Calgary, you finally got a break, able to enjoy your time at the Tkachuk house without his constant bickering.

Fast forward four years and you were offered your dream job right out of college. But there was a catch: it was in Calgary. It wasn’t even a decision to be made, this was the opportunity of a lifetime and you knew that the city was big enough to avoid Matthew. Except apparently it wasn't, and now you were stuck in a seemingly endless cycle of winding up in his bed.

You were lucky enough to know one of the other girls that worked at your company, quickly falling into an easy friendship with her. It was Saturday night and you and Ella decided to go out, both looking your absolute best. You went for all black, throwing on your favorite jeans, v-neck bodysuit, and heeled booties. As soon as you walked into the bar, you were hit with the dense, warm air, your attention drawn straight to one of the tvs showing highlights of the Flames win that night. You scoffed, not even wanting to think about Matthew, and pulled Ella to go get your first round. Soon enough, you found yourself talking to a guy at the bar, the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. But little did you know the young guys of the Flames had just walked in, in the mood to celebrate their win. Matthew felt his breath hitch in his throat the second he saw you. He knew you had moved to the city, his mom begging him to reach out and make you feel welcome, but of course he hadn’t. What he didn’t know is how unbelievably good you looked. He had always harboured a crush for you, something about the sweet girl next door just doing it for him. But you quickly became close with Brady and he didn’t want to intervene if there was something there. So in typical teenage boy fashion he did his best to annoy you at all times. By the time it was clear that you and Brady were just friends, he had already established his dislike for you and felt that it was too late to backtrack. But now here you were. Maybe it was the way your jeans perfectly cupped your ass or the high he was still riding from scoring two goals just hours before, but Matthew headed straight towards you.

There was no denying that the guy in front of you was hot, but something about his personality was straight up boring you. Just as you began plotting your escape, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You eagerly turned, expecting it to be Ella coming back from the bathroom, but your face dropped when you saw him. “Matthew,” you sighed, a self-satisfied smirk already on his face.

“Long time no see Y/N, hmm?” he grinned.

You may have hated him, but you couldn’t say he wasn’t beautiful. He towered over you, messy brown curls falling onto his forehead just above his baby blue eyes. His black t-shirt fit him perfectly, tight on his broad shoulders and around his biceps. His scent was intoxicating, daring you to move closer to his frame. And that’s when you knew you were a goner.

He somehow charmed you into coming home with him that night, not that you were putting up much of a fight. Nearly two months later, you found yourself under his spell, spending night after night together.

Tonight was no different. After a long east coast road trip, Matthew was begging you to come over despite the early hour of the morning. And that’s where you found yourself, pressed up against his door weakening beneath his body. His hands were heavy on your waist, moving his mouth from yours to trail hot, wet kisses down your neck. You whimpered as he started to suck your sweet spot between his teeth, feeling him smirk against your soft skin as he wound you up. “Matt- Matthew, please,” you begged, hands gently pulling his curls making him groan. With just a few touches he had you dripping for him, no one compared to the way he worshiped your body. He moved his hands down your body, splaying across your ass then your thighs. He gently tapped them urging you to jump, which you did right away, gasping when you felt how hard he was against you as you wrapped your legs around his hips.

“What do you want babygirl? You just gotta tell me,” Matthew whispered in your ear, making sure to grind into your core a little extra as he spoke.

“Fuck,” you whined. “Your t-tongue, your fingers. Please Matty.”

Matthew moved to carry you into his bedroom, continuing his assault on your neck. “Whatever my girl wants she gets.” You tried not to overthink his possessive language, and luckily you were quickly distracted as he dropped you on his bed. You couldn’t help but giggle as you bounced on the soft material, him grinning down at you, eyes full of admiration. It was moments like these that made you question the original agreement of just sex. He could be so sweet, so respectful. But you didn’t let yourself go there, knowing he had no interest in a relationship, especially not with his former childhood enemy.

Your thoughts were interrupted as Matthew went back to work, lips reattaching to your neck and rough hands slipping underneath your sweatshirt. You arched up into him in desperate need of more friction. He was taking his sweet time marking up your collarbone, but you couldn’t wait any longer, pushing him off your body so you could pull off your top.

“Someone’s eager,” he chirped with a smirk.

“Oh shut up,” you snapped back, pushing his head further down your body.

Matthew chuckled and wrapped his hands around your back, gracefully unclipping your bra and throwing it across the room. His pink lips trailed down, covering your boobs in fresh bruises, the partially healed ones still lingering from previous nights. Once he reached the band of your leggings he wasted no time pulling them off your legs in one swift motion, but he left your panties behind. He wasn’t quite done teasing you. Matthew hooked both your legs over his shoulders, settling in. His dominant hand moved to finally ghost your core, fingers faintly dragging up the black lace. He smiled up at you as he took in the sight in front of him. You were squirming beneath him, already losing control of your body completely. His thumb rubbed your clit in painfully slow circles, your arousal becoming visible through the material.

“Mattttty,” you whined, begging him to do something, anything.

He normally hated that nickname, it reeked of desperation from girls he had no plans of calling again. But when it fell from your lips he felt his dick twitch and his heart melt. No matter how many times he told himself differently, you weren’t just another girl and deep down he knew it.

“Okay, okay princess. I got you,” he cooed, finally pulling your panties off. “Fuck,” he groaned as he saw you glistening before him, “So wet for me baby.”

He delved right in, dragging his tongue up your slit, reveling in hearing your moans as he finally gave you what you needed so desperately. Your hands flew straight to his head, pulling at his curls making him moan into you. Slowly but surely he reached your clit, wrapping his swollen lips around it before detaching his mouth with a pop.

“Mhm, you taste so fucking good babygirl,” he groaned.

You didn’t have time to respond before he went back to work, tongue massaging your clit just right. You had learned very quickly that this boy knew exactly what he was doing. With one finger he teased your entrance, feeling you out before sliding it in.

“Fuck, fuck,” you whimpered, your back arching off the mattress as he curled it against your g-spot perfectly.

Matthew smirked against you, blue eyes lifting to lock with your gaze. He added another finger and picked up his pace. He knew you were close, and he also knew just how to finish you off. He flattened his tongue against your clit and shook his head back and forth, arm resting heavy on your waist to keep you from moving.

“Ma-Matty I’m gonna cum, fuck, fuck,” you yelled out, not holding back in the least bit. His name continued to fall out of your lips in a chant as you reached your high.

Matthew milked you through your orgasm, making sure to look up and watch as you fell apart. It was his favorite sight: the way your back arched, face twisted, and legs shaked. He finally slowed his movements, pulling back to watch your cum spill out as he removed his fingers. You sat up on your elbows trying to regain your breath, in awe of the man in front of you and the earth shattering orgasms he never failed to give you. He locked eyes with you, a devilish smirk on his face as he moved to suck his fingers clean.

“Feel better?” He teased with a self-satisfied grin on his face.

You rolled your eyes and laughed, dragging him up by his shirt to kiss him, sighing as you tasted yourself on his tongue. He gently bit your bottom lip, making you pull away to urge him to shed his clothes.

--------

Two more orgasms later, you fell back against the mattress, chest rising with each breath as your body started to come down. Matthew laid next to you, his head tucked into the crook of your neck and his arm heavy across your waist. The two of you stayed like this for several minutes, basking in one another’s warmth. Neither of you would ever admit it, but this was your favorite moment of the night. That short bit of time when it was acceptable for fuck buddies to hold each other right after sex. But eventually you found yourself fighting everything within you and escaping from his grasp, moving to the bathroom to go clean up. Like usual, Matthew loosened his grip on you and watched you walk away, the door closing behind you.

Normally he would push his feelings to the side and let you leave, but he didn’t know if he could handle pretending tonight. Before he could talk himself out of it, he got out of bed, throwing on a fresh pair of boxers and grabbing a t-shirt. He sat on the edge of the bed waiting for you to emerge, heart beating out of his chest.

When you opened the door, you were expecting to see Matthew already half asleep, mumbling a goodbye to you. Early on in your arrangement, he insisted you stayed over in the guestroom, not wanting you to go home alone so late, but you refused. The best he got out of you was a text when you got home safe. You just couldn’t allow yourself to wake up in his apartment, that would be a cruel joke to your true feelings. But tonight, he was waiting up for you, a t-shirt in his hand.

You gave him a confused look, suddenly feeling very exposed in front of him.

Matthew moved his hands out to you, urging you to grab the shirt.

“What are you doing?” you questioned. There was no way this was what you hoped it was, he wouldn’t.

“Put it on,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

“Wha-,”

“I can’t do this anymore, okay? I can’t watch you leave every night and then fall asleep alone wishing I was holding you. So put the shirt on and get back in bed.”

It was almost like you didn’t believe him. You gave him another quizzical look, to which he responded by gesturing it towards you again. You finally reached out and grabbed the shirt, slowly pulling it over your head. It was big, and you couldn’t deny that your heart fluttered as the soft fabric fell over your frame. You hesitantly moved towards the bed, climbing back under the sheets. Matthew slid in behind you, immediately reaching and grabbing your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You stayed silent for a minute, but your mind wouldn’t shut off. You couldn’t just pretend that this was normal.

“You know we have to talk about this, right? You’re not that dumb,” you mumbled at the end.

He scoffed, but it quickly turned into a chuckle as you turned in his arms and he saw your face, laced with confusion.

“What is there to talk about?” he smirked.

“Matty,” you warned, not blind to how his cheeks pinkened at the name.

Matthew sighed, “Look, Y/N, I don’t think you hate me as much as you pretend to. And I’m telling you that I never hated you like it seemed for all those years. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure we’ve been exclusively hooking up for a while now and fuck, I want more,” he declared.

You of course agreed with him, but you decided to have a little fun.

“How do you know you’re not just one of many on my roster, hmm?” you teased, but he saw right through you.

“You’re here almost every night I’m not away. I would honestly be impressed if you were doing that,” he laughed as he looked down at you, moving his hand to play with your hair.

You didn’t even have words, just cupping his cheek and pressing a slow kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, he was staring at you with the softest eyes, and after so long you finally let yourself stare back.

“Okay but I’m not telling our parents. That’s on you,” you spoke.

“Umm, about that, I already told my mom-”

“You told your mom that we’re fucking! What is wrong with you Matthew?” you exclaimed, playfully hitting his bare chest as he burst into laughter.

“No! I just told her we started hanging out a little bit. That’s all baby.”

“Oh thank god,” you sighed, relieved that the woman you basically considered a second mother didn’t know that your relationship with her son started as a Saturday night bar hook up.

After another fit of giggles, the physical and emotional exhaustion of the night finally struck. You turned into Matthew’s body and nuzzled into his chest, his arms holding you close. His lips grazed your forehead, whispering goodnight. But just when you felt your eyes slipping shut, you heard that voice one more time.

“I should probably tell you though, Brady knows about the fucking.”

“Mathewwwww,” you groaned into his skin, feeling your body shake as his vibrated with laughter.

Even though you had a lot of explaining to do back home, you were so happy to have the pest by your side through it all.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk smut #nhl imagine #nhl writing #nhl smut #hockey imagine #hockey writing #hockey smut #my writing

621 notes · View notes

lamesiscanon · 4 years

Text

Remus meets Padfoot

(Read on AO3)

The first time Remus saw the dog in the shrieking shack, he was high.

Not high in the way he and James would spend Sunday afternoons under the quidditch stands, nor in the way the four marauders would occasionally get something from Gid Prewett and spend hours in their dorm room talking about nothing that mattered and laughing until their stomachs hurt.

No, Remus was high in the sense that he tore his body nearly in half once a month and this potion that Pomfrey gave him was the only way to minimalize the pain before he ripped himself apart in just under an hour. Side effects may include: tripping balls and space travel to other planets.

And apparently hallucinating giant, black dogs. This one was new. But hey, at least the full moon didn’t have shit on him now.

Had Remus been in a state of mind that would have allowed his brain to produce just one sober thought, he might have been scared. Hallucination or not, seeing a dog that was almost the same size as your werewolf alter ego standing at an arm’s length away from your face was enough to scare any regular person shitless.

The thought was enough to make Remus laugh to himself. Any normal person would be scared shitless, but fortunately for Remus he was a teenage werewolf with a fucking magic wand. Seeing some stray in the shack was the least of his problems.

The stray in question cocked it’s head to the side, still staring at Remus, and the action was so familiar that Remus felt something shift in his mind that didn’t quite sit right. Remus only laughed harder.

“I don’t know what you want from me.” And oh Merlin, now he was talking to a dog and quite obviously getting no response. Maybe he should try again in an hour, when he was no longer Remus Lupin. The dog stared, making no effort to reply if it could. It was actually kind of adorable, and Remus would love to indulge in the company if he weren’t about to turn into a fucking monster.

“You should leave. You’re not safe here.”

The dog didn’t move, and Remus’ control quickly started to deplete.

“Get the fuck out of here. I could hurt you, you know.”

Again, the dog tilted its head and Remus hated how odd it made him feel. Everything about the damn thing, the fur, the eyes, the movements. It all almost reminded him of -

“Seriously, are you even fucking real?” Remus got frustrated, frantic with the sudden paranoia that maybe he wasn’t even here right now, and maybe the transformation already happened and maybe the wolf had finally just finished it and maybe this was some kind of sick afterlife dream -

Oh.

The dog had moved to sit its head directly on Remus’ lap, where his hand involuntarily came to rest on the back of its neck, snapping him back to reality. Soft, silky black fur. His movements through the dog’s hair were gentle despite Remus’ rising agitation. He should get up, shove the dog’s head off of him and throw him out the tunnel, since there really was no other way of exiting the shack.

“How did you get in here, girl?” Remus asked, to which the only reply was a short, deep growl. “Shit, sorry. How’d you get in here, buddy?”

Remus felt ridiculous. High off his mind, talking to a stray dog that had somehow wandered past the tree and ended up laying it’s head in Remus’ lap after one minute of meeting him, and Remus was now talking to the damn thing, like it could answer him and take away all of the worries that lived on Remus’ imaginary list of “How fucked up can my life really get?”

“You’re not safe, I’m about to tear this room apart and I could hurt you.”

Still, the dog didn’t answer, (No fucking surprise there) and Remus really didn’t make any effort in kicking it out. Even if he wanted to, he wasn’t sure his body would allow him to do that at the moment. Already, he could feel the moon pulling his mind away, and his blood becoming hotter while his skin started crawling a mile a minute.

“I hope you’re safe.” Was the last thing Remus managed to remember saying before the potion really took over, and then half an hour later, Remus Lupin was no longer a teenage boy, but a monster under the full moon.

The dog wasn’t in the shack after Remus woke up the next morning.

The second time Remus saw the dog, he didn’t take the potion. Madam Pomfrey was so surprised to see the lack of injuries Remus woke up with last month, that she had insisted she’d save it for when Remus would really need it, and worried that taking it every month would just allow his body to build up a tolerance anyways.

The dog came in quietly, something Remus wouldn’t have noticed if it weren’t for his super human hearing and the smell of sweaty fur that surrounded the room the second it walked through the door. Remus was sitting on the bed, hands clasped tight like he was trying to break his own fingers, and head hung low to stop his head from spinning.

“Hello again.” Remus grit out, always polite no matter the circumstances. “I hope I didn’t scare you away last time. I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”

The dog came over to sit in front of Remus, head tilted curiously again which made Remus scoff.

“I know, I know. I’m fucking crazy, you can’t understand me, and you watched me turn into a beast last month. Anything else you’d like to cover?” Remus asked, watching as the dog moved towards him and nudged at his clasped hands.

Stop it he seemed to be saying. Remus regretfully let his fingers slide out from each other, one by one, until the dog was able to move between them and set its head on Remus’ upper thigh.

“You smell like my boyfriend.” Remus said. The dog yelped, excitedly, before resting his head back where it was. “No, don’t take that as a compliment. He’s always sweaty after quidditch and insists on victory hugs. It’s disgusting.”

If any of this wasn’t weird before, it certainly was then, now that Remus could swear he watched the dog roll his eyes.

“Your fur is softer than his hair though, I’ll give you that.” Remus said through a yawn, noticing from his watch that he was only half an hour from transformation. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to take off my clothes before I rip them to shreds.”

The dog moved away slowly, moving to stand contentedly by the foot of the bed, watching Remus as he took off his sweater, then the t-shirt, and finally his jeans and pants. He shoved them far under the bed, hoping they’d be safe and easy to access before Madam Pomfrey got there in the morning.

The dog stayed with Remus, through the transformation, and was there this time when Remus woke up, curled up under the werewolf’s head and snoring soundly.

His injuries from the night before were minimal, and the dog looked perfectly safe.

Huh.

Things started clicking in Remus’ mind when James and Peter were all of sudden calling Sirius “Padfoot” around the common room and in the dorm. How James made too many jokes about Sirius’ “dog-like” behavior to the point where it was no longer funny, though at first, Remus didn’t understand why they were so funny to Peter. Then Remus started noticing how tired Sirius was the days after full moons, like he’d stayed up all night.

Remus Lupin was no idiot, and the rest of the Marauders should have remembered that if they wanted to keep it a secret.

Before Remus was to head out to the shack for the third time that year, Sirius grabbed his wrist and kissed him, a deep loving kiss and whispered a “see you soon” though Sirius didn’t know that Remus knew how “soon” he actually meant.

Padfoot showed up fifteen minutes after Remus arrived at the shack, clothes already off and huddled under the threadbare blanket on the armchair in the corner. It was missing a lot of stuffing, thanks to the several scratch marks, but it was comfy thanks to his well placed charms.

Remus smiled when he saw the big, black dog nose the door open and then shut.

“I’m glad to see you.” He told it, and the dog stopped, like it were surprised, before bouncing towards Remus on the chair and licking his face. Knowing Sirius, he was just as excited to see Remus.

“Ugh, stop. If I wanted terrible, sloppy kisses then I’d just go ask my boyfriend.”

The dog barked in protest, and Remus managed to keep from laughing, watching Padfoot plop his head on the armrest of the chair in protest.

“Aw, sorry boy.” Remus pulled his arm from under the blanket to move his fingers through the familiar, dark fur, and watched the dog relax. “I didn’t mean to offend you. If it makes you feel better, you’re not nearly as bad as he is.”

Padfoot pulled away quickly, giving out another sharp bark in indignation before going to sit on the bed, like he were protesting Remus’ words. As fun as this was, Remus had had enough.

He pulled himself away from the chair with the blanket wrapped around him and went to sit next to Padfoot on the bed.

“Sirius.” Remus whispered, and the dog raised it’s head in response, though it didn’t seem like he had registered what Remus just called him. “Change back, please. I want you right now.”

Realization flooded Padfoot’s eyes, and Remus stared until they became Sirius’ perfect gray ones.

“Who the fuck told you! Was it Peter? I swear to Merlin, that rat is going to fucking-”

“Sirius.”

Sirius stopped, looking back at Remus with apology and a lot of questions on his face.

“No one told me, I figured it out.”

“You- you figured it out.” It wasn’t a question but Remus nodded anyway. “How? I mean, I know you’re not stupid, Moony, but I thought I was subtle.”

“Moony? Is that a nickname similar to Padfoot?” Remus asked. Sirius gaped at him, before flopping himself down on the bed.

“Fucking James and his dog jokes, that’s how you knew, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But since the first time you came here I thought ‘Padfoot’ reminded me of someone. Some ridiculous, charming boy who insists on sweaty hugs after quidditch games and is terrible at kissing.” Remus laughed when Sirius sat up and shoved at Remus’ shoulder.

“You were having me on!” Sirius realized. “You were trying to get me to admit it to you.”

Remus reached over and grabbed Sirius’ hand, still laughing but looking at Sirius like he was something precious. It made Sirius’ heart beat fast and want to hold Moony until he was safe.

I love you. Fuck, Moony, I just realized I love you.

“I wasn’t trying to get you to admit it to me. But it was fun to watch you try and prove your kissing skills.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but he looked back to Remus with a soft gaze and what he hoped was absolute love in his eyes.

“So you technically knew it was me the whole time.” Sirius reached his hand up to cup Remus’ jaw, thumb stroking the smallest scar on his cheek.

“I guess so. The way you tilt your head when you’re curious or confused, and how you like to lay your head in my lap. I remember thinking that this new strange dog acted exactly like the boy I’m in love with.” Remus eyes stared right into Sirius’ during the confession, like he was challenging Sirius, or more like trying to prove how honest he was being.

Sirius realized his mouth had dropped open, and he quickly shut it before crawling closer to Remus until he was in the other boy’s lap.

“You... you love me?”

Sirius’ tone made Remus’ heart ache. The fact that he had to question it at all made Remus angry at Sirius’ family, at anyone who ever made this boy doubt the love he had in his life.

Remus moved his hands from Sirius’ arms to his face, so they were both cupping each other’s chins and stroking their thumbs. Sirius’ face was wet.

“Of course I love you. You’re such a fucking brave, reckless Gryffindor I think they should name the house after you.” Sirius giggled wetly, pulling at Remus’ heart. “And the way you care for James, Peter, Regulus, Lily. And me. Fuck, pads, you became and animagus for me. There’s no way I couldn’t love you. You’re just you and I was doomed from the start.”

Sirius finally, finally leaned in and kissed Remus. It started as a soft kiss, light and full of sweetness before Sirius angled his head and deepened it.

“It’s not just me.” Sirius gasped a couple of minutes later when he regretfully had to pull away. “It wasn’t just- James and Peter are animagi to. Or, trying to be. I mastered it before them.” Sirius smirked at Remus, resting their foreheads together.

“Of course you did, you egotistical genius.” Remus leaned in and kissed Sirius again. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Fuck, how have I not said it back already? I fucking love you, Moony.”

The moment wasn’t forever, despite how sweet it was. Remus had less than thirty minutes before the full moon, he could feel it pulling on his skin, his heart, his head. The pain that showed up before every transformation was numbed though, by the boy in his arms who was playing with Remus’ hair and leaving kisses on his nose, eyebrow, cheeks and eyelids. Anywhere he could reach, really.

And when the morning came, Sirius was able to transform back into himself this time and heal some of Remus’ minor injuries. After every one, he’d leave a soft kiss over each new scar and whispers of “I love you.”

Remus didn’t need a potion that numbed his pain and made him high, he needed Sirius, and their friends who were going to join them in the shack soon to help Remus’ life become a little easier. With them, the full moon really didn’t have shit on him now.

105 notes · View notes

darlinvandijk · 4 years

Text

Late Night Swim

Concept: y’all already know what this is, just a fic about Skinny dipping, and a beautiful boy joining you for the night time swim. Also WARNING: nudity?? And weed so that’s that. I couldn’t help myself so I just needed to write this piece LMAO Hope you enjoy ;)

I grab the joint from his hand, taking a hit, before coughing the harsh smoke out, ignoring the laughing that erupts around me. I look up and glare at the laughing boy in front of me, glaring as he mocks me, before passing the joint off next to me.

“Ruel make him stop, it’s not my fault that I coughed” I whine, looking to my right, watching as Ruel raises an eyebrow at me while taking a drag. I roll my eyes ready to complain before my head is tilted up, Ruels lips pressing against mine as he eases them open, smoke filling my mouth before I breath it in. He pulls away from me with a smirk, slowly licking his lips as he takes another hit, blowing it straight in my face with a grin. “You’re so annoying” I mumble, my eyes slightly stinging from the direct hit of smoke.

“I thought Crackerz was the annoying one, he laughed at you when you coughed, I was nice enough to help you” Ruel defends, trying not to laugh as Crackerz erupts again, laying flat on his back as he laughs at my frown. I glare at the both of them before standing up, deciding to give the boys a silent treatment, only to get pulled back down and on to Ruels lap instead. I look up at him through hazy eyes, my brain fuzzy from smoking, and my eyes trained on his pink lips, almost forgetting about the boy sitting in front of us with a disgusted look on his face. “Stop whining or I’ll find a way to shut you up later” he mumbles, removing the joint from his lips to press them to mine, eyes trained on the way I easily inhale the smoke.

“Can you guys stop eye fucking in front of me? Also what happened to the whole ‘we’re just friends’ thing?” Crackerz accuses us, having watched the secretive touches and glances all night, finally breaking silence after Ruel presses his lips to mine for the third time that night. I open my mouth to object his theory, only to lean back against Ruel as he points an accusatory finger at me, feeling Ruel silently shake behind me as he laughs. “Don’t even test me, friends don’t practically make out, spill it already” He pleads, already knowing the rehearsed line Ruel and I say every single time.

“Chill we are just friends, I was just making it easier for her to smoke. I was not about to hear her choke again for the millionth time tonight” Ruel reasons with him, moving his hand to my thigh, ignoring the way Crackerz eyebrows shoot up at the action. Before I can even justify anything, the same excuse I use of ‘we’ve been best friends for so long so it’s not weird’, Crackerz stands up and pulls his jacket back on. “Oh god don’t tell me you’re already leaving asshole” Ruel grumbles, smirking as he gets a middle finger in return, Crackerz taking one last hit before passing it back to him with a grin.

“Surprise but some of us actually have plans tonight, so have fun with your whole fake friendship act” Crackerz cackles on his way out, ignoring the shouts of protest he gets in return to his little comment. I lean back against Ruel as the silence settles around us, hearing him inhale before he turns my face towards his on my shoulder, my mouth opening as our lips meet, the dense smoke filling my lungs. He pulls away and smiles as I let the smoke out through my nose, tilting my head and puckering my lips, wanting another kiss from him.

“We really suck at this whole not being obvious thing huh” he laughs, pressing a few consecutive light kisses to my lips, falling even more in love as he looks at my slightly pink face. I laugh at his statement, completely agreeing with him, because honestly we could never be actors with how terrible this performance is going. “We seriously use the same excuses every time, we’re the worst baby” he grins, holding me tight against him as he breaths out the smoke, my eyes watching the way it twirls throughout the dark sky around us.

“We might as well just come clean, not like they don’t already know. It’s been a little over a year now and I’m pretty sure they caught on like two months in” I laugh, my eyes widening as he stands up, still holding me in his arms. I let him carry me for a few minutes through some of the trees and brush surrounding us, before we finally end up at the same spot we always do. His safe place, otherwise known as the little mini beach no one knows about or comes to, a smile rising on my face as I look up at the moon sitting high in the sky. “Now what’re we doing here this time Rueloff, since we’ve already smoked all we had” I ask, my eyes slowly meeting his as the peak of my high finally hits, my brain cloudy with only the thought of him being clear.

“I’m glad you asked that sweetheart, but strip. Now.” He states, ignoring the way my eyes widen and my mouth drops open, watching him in shock as he takes off his shirt and unbuttons his pants. He folds them and sets them in a small pile, turning to me as he stands there in just his boxers, rolling his eyes as he sees me fully clothed. “Did I stutter? Take off your fucking clothes” he mumbles, reaching down to pull off his boxers before I smack him on the shoulder, glaring at him as he looks at me confused.

“Why don’t you say please? I’m not some bitch you can just boss around” I huff, rolling my eyes as I turn around to walk away, only to get yanked backwards, my fully clothed body coming in contact with his now bare front. I wiggle to try and get away from him, sagging against him in defeat, as he just wraps his arms around my waist, his chin resting on the top of my head as he waits for me to stop. “Get off of me, you’re so annoying” I snap at him, growing more annoyed as I feel him laughing against me, knowing he’s enjoying my attitude.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad” he smirks out, turning me around to face him, slightly bending down to press a kiss to the top of my forehead, chuckling as I say nothing in return and stand there staring at him. He grabs the hem of my shirt as I stand still, slowly lifting it and letting it drop on to the sand, before his hands reach down, undoing the button of my jeans with ease. I mean it’s not like that’s the first time he’s done that. “Cheer up sweetheart, you know you like when I boss you around.. I mean you sure as fuck liked it the other night” he grins, laughing when I push against his chest, my own smile finally breaking through.

“Whatever, why’re we stripping on the beach? I’m not doing anything here, sand will get in places I don’t ever want it to be” I warn him, laughing as he pulls me forward and his hand goes to my back, skillfully unclasping my bra, tossing it to the ground with the rest of my now discarded clothes. He ignores my questions and tugs at my underwear, not wanting to bend down to remove those, making me roll my eyes and pull them down, kicking them to the side once they fall to my ankles. He steps back and stares at me in awe, my face heating up as his eyes wander my now slightly shivering body, looking at me as if he’s seeing me for the first time. “Stop looking at me like that, it makes me shy” I mumble, crossing my arms over my chest as I start to feel slightly embarrassed standing here completely bare in front of him. He lets out a noise of disapproval, coming closer and grabbing my hands, removing my arms from covering my body from him.

“Don’t cover yourself, you’re stunning. I’ve seen you like this so many times yet I’m always so star stuck with you baby” he whispers, one of his hands dragging across my hip slowly, giving me a lazy love struck grin as his eyes meet mine again. He tugs me against him, wrapping his arms around me in a soft embrace, kissing the top of my head as I give him a small squeeze of appreciation. He stays silent for a few minutes, before breaking the silence in a way that I should have seen coming a lot sooner.

“Ruel no it’s gonna be cold” I screech when he lifts me up and jogs to the water, the waves reaching shore in a peaceful manner, a bit more calm than they usually seem to be this time at night. He stops with me wrapped around his waist, my arms tightly around his neck, the water reaching mid chest to him, meaning if he let me go I’d practically be fully submerged. I shift and tighten my hold around him, the cold water splashing up and down my back, making sure my chest and stomach stay pressed against him to help lessen the cold temp from reaching them.

We both look out at the moon in silence for a few minutes, just holding each other and trying to stay as warm as possible, the freezing water around us chilling me straight to the bone. He slowly starts to let me go, laughing as I grab on to his arms to stay afloat, moving my feet so I can tread and not sink straight down. He raises one of his arms to push some of my hair back, laughing as my hand gripping his arm moves with his movement, completely unwilling to let him go in case I float out into the ocean. He moves my hands to rest on his shoulders, his coming down to my waist as he helps me stay up, ignoring the little nudges of my feet kicking his shins.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are, like you’re prettier than Crackerz” he laughs, his already hooded eyes almost closing fully, the smoking from earlier causing him to laugh even harder at his own joke. I scoff and roll my eyes, knowing damn well he did not just compare me to Crackerz out of all people, the man who laughed when I almost died earlier. He leans forward and presses a kiss to my lips, smiling when I lean forward for another, knowing that when I’m high I usually get a lot needier than usual. Which is saying something since I’m always clingy when it comes to the beautiful boy in front of me.

“You owe me more than just one kiss, especially after trying to compare me to Crackerz, like that’s so disrespectful to me” I barely get out, laughing as I watch Ruel laugh, happy that I can make him laugh like this even if it’s just a simple joke about our interesting friend. I move to wrap my arms back around his neck, pressing myself against him as we just sway in the water, our highs now turning into a calm and sleepy feeling, his warm skin pressed against mine not helping whatsoever. He rubs one of his hands up and down my back, smiling to himself as he thinks about how lucky he is, holding the girl of his dreams in his arms. Nothing but the waves, us, and the shining stars surrounding us.

“Getting sleepy my love? We can head back, get dressed, and maybe pick up some food before going home” he plans, completely ignoring me when I mumble a sound of disappointment, not wanting to leave the water just yet, especially when my body had finally gotten used to the temperature. He slowly makes his way out of the water, keeping me held tight against his body as the cold air nips at our skin, my body instantly wracking with shivers. “Feeling cold baby?” He questions, my eyes rolling as I press myself against him even more, if that’s humanly possible.

“No, I’m fine” I lie straight through my teeth, trying to stop my body from shaking so much knowing he can feel it. He sets me down on to my feet, looking down at me with a smirk, one that’s filled with nothing but pure mischief. “Don’t look at me like that, I know whatever you’re about to say is going to be dumb” I groan out, his smirk growing even wider upon hearing my words, his response being the most guy thing he could ever say.

“You sure you’re not cold? I mean I’m not one to judge, but there’s a certain part of your body literally stabbing me right now” he laughs, stumbling when I smack his arm and move to wrap my arms around my chest, groaning when he bends over to laugh even harder. I roll my eyes at him before starting to slip my clothes back on, feeling them uncomfortably stick to my wet skin, grabbing his hoodie off of the sand and pulling it over my now wet top.

“You’re so annoying, you act like you don’t have fucking nipples Ruel, at least mine weren’t stabbing you in the forehead” I yell at him, watching as he has to stop pulling his pants back on to laugh again, the image of his nipple against my forehead making him lose his mind. “You’re a child, a literal child” I mutter, ignoring his laughs as he shuffles to pull the rest of his clothes on, watching him wipe his eyes every few seconds as the tears keep running down his face. He stands straight and takes a few deep breaths, his eyes closed while he tries to calm himself down, before looking at me and completely getting set off again.

“I-I’m sorry, it’s just so f-fucking funny” he cries out, following after me as I make my way through the trees, walking to the little path we have to take to get back to his house, deciding that a food break is not going to happen when he’s still too inebriated to function. I hear him jog to catch up to me, his arm wrapping around my shoulder to pull me close, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of my head. “You know it was funny, just laugh baby, I won’t judge you” he sweetly tells me, giving me a cheesy grin when I look up at him, nudging his side with my elbow in response.

“It really wasn’t that funny Ruel” I state, his eyes widening with disbelief, not understanding that I don’t have the same mental capacity equivalent to that of a fourteen year old boy like him. He walks in front of me and stops, resting his hands on my hips as he smiles down at me, his lips wobbling as he tries to keep himself at bay. “Ruel it’s literally just nipples calm down” I groan, hearing him take sharp intake, his hands leaving my body as he presses them to his mouth. I run a hand down my face, waiting for the reaction I know I’m about to get in mere seconds, and trust me he did not fail to disappoint.

“N-nipples” he cries out, putting a hand on my shoulder to hold himself up, stumbling when I walk past him, wondering why I chose him out of all the boys in the world. I make my way down the street, knowing he’s following me by the constant sound of his laughing straight behind me, his breathing coming out in gasps as he tries to contain himself. When they say boys brain doesn’t fully reach adulthood till they’re forty, trust me, it’s not a lie.

Maybe hanging out with Crackerz wasn’t that bad, should have never taken him for granted.

#one ruel #ruel #ruelvincentvandijk #ruel van dijk #ruel imagine #ruel fanfic #ruel one shot #ruel imagines #ruel x reader #imagines #one shot #imagine #x reader #free time ep

124 notes · View notes

overheardatthecontinental · 4 years

Text

Talk Chapter 16

AO3 Link

Thanks to @meetmeinthematinee for editing and reassuring me on this chapter <3

Mornings for John have become excruciatingly difficult. Driving away from Helen had always been hard. Leaving her office, then later her home always felt impossible. Each step away was like torture but nothing compared to the pain of leaving her at the cottage.

The drive to New Jersey isn’t much further than New York but every mile stretches on. What once wouldn’t have phased him now tears at his soul.

The only comfort he has is every hour he drives is an hour closer to the time he can turn his car around.

It’s a little after noon when he finally reaches the motel by the airport. He pulls into the lot, driving by the strip of rooms, looking for something to indicate which is Sofia’s.

He finds a window with a playing card in the window. The ace of hearts. She had used a sharpie to etch on the letter ‘V’.

His v-card. Hilarious.

John parks the car outside the window with a sigh, shaking his head as he does. He walks over and knocks on the door. It doesn’t take long for Sofia to answer.

Her hair is piled into a ponytail. She’s dressed inconspicuously. Blue jeans and a hoodie as she hides away in a sleazy motel.

“Hey, Sof.”

“Owe me big, John. This bitch is a talker.” She replies shaking her head, the start of a smile on her lips. She opens the door wider, allowing John to slip in. The motel room itself is shit but he knows that Sofia has slept in far worse conditions.

The room is adjoining, and an open door leads to a second room. John walks over, looking in. Isabella DeLuca’s are bound behind her, a rope leading from her hands to the headboard. Her head lolls in a way that tells John she is asleep rather than resting.

“She wouldn’t shut up, so I sedated her. Hope that’s okay.”

“Considering how many times Helen was sedated by her son, I have no qualms.”

That causes Sofia’s head to swing in his direction and it occurs to John that he never really went into detail with his friend.

“I’m sorry, what?”

John dips his head, “It’s a long story.”

“We got time.” She says without room for argument. Sofia shakes her head as she turns back to her room. She walks over to the small, two-person table and sits. “What the fuck, John?”

Having already sat for the past four hours, he remains standing, leaning against the wall as he does. “I should probably preface this with the fact Helen and I aren’t actually together.”

Sofia makes a face, “You’re kidding.”

John shakes his head.

She makes a large show of sighing, rising to her feet. Sofia walks over to the window and reaches just past the blinds, pulling out the card she had left in the window.

“Guess you can keep this.”

She throws it at him and John catches it with ease, placing it face down on the table as Sofia settles back into her seat.

“You’re hilarious.”

“You’re hilariously disappointing.” She shoots back, “Here I thought I was helping you save the love of your life.”

“I never said she wasn’t that.”

Sofia narrows her eyes, “So you love her. But you’re not together.”

“That sums it up.”

She rolls her eyes, “So what are you? Friends? Neighbors? Confidants?” And like Winston, he can see the moment it clicks in her head, “Oh, fuck. She’s not your therapist.”

John changes his mind about standing in that moment, pulling out the chair and sinking in. “We met in a café about seven months ago. Gave me her card, introduced herself.”

“And you thought she was pretty. So instead of asking her out like most people would have done, you booked an appointment.” She shakes her head, “Jesus fucking Christ, John.”

“She was normal. And kind and pretty. And I knew she didn’t belong in our world.” John leans forward, desperately trying to explain where his thoughts had been all those months ago. “I didn’t mean for it to turn into what it did. I just wanted to talk to her one more time, get her out of my head. But, instead, it became addicting. Being around her.

“After two months, we were starting to run out of things to talk about. And I was more afraid of losing her than I was the consequences when I told her about the Underworld.”

Sofia puts her face in her hand, “You didn’t.”

“I did. In hindsight, I think I was looking for her to reject me. To force me to move on when I wasn’t strong enough to walk away on my own. But she didn’t reject me. She wasn’t afraid or disbelieving. And it was around there that I went from being obsessed and infatuated to madly in love with her. It was also around there when I got a little out of control.”

She looks up at him doubtfully, like she can’t believe it’s going to get worse.

“I started following her.”

“John!”

“I’m not proud of it. And God knows I’ve done worse things in my life.” He shrugs, “I—again, it started small. I told myself it was just curiosity that made me follow her home the first time. And then it became every Friday. Then every weekend. Then every day. But nothing stays a secret forever.”

“DeLuca.”

John nods, “Last Friday, Hels was taken from her bed in the middle of the night. I got a call not long after saying I would get Helen back, alive and unharmed, if I killed Lorenzo, Gianna, and Santino D’Antonio. At the time, I didn’t know it was DeLuca. I didn’t have a name, an organization. Just an order and a blind promise.”

“It was two days of hell, trying to find anything on who had her. Where she was. But Hels is nothing if not resourceful. She managed to manipulate one of the guards into sending me a text, letting me know who had her. Sunday night, I was able to get her out. Took her home.”

“And Monday the contract went wide.”

John nods, “One-part revenge, one-part manipulation. Mateo still wants the D’Antonio’s dead. Did you get the file that was scanned to you? On Isabella?”

Sofia nods back, “Yeah, got it before I even landed in Rome. Isabella’s mother was a D’Antonio.”

“It’s a whole lot of political bullshit that I don’t care about.” John admits, “The running theory is that Isabella thinks she can simultaneously get revenge on her family and strengthen the Syndicate by eliminating Lorenzo and his heirs.”

“But if you eliminate Lorenzo, the High Table and the Camorra come for you.” Sofia finishes, “That said,” she looks up at John, curiously, “I heard a rumor Santino D’Antonio is dead.”

“Good.”

“Did you kill him?” John pulls out his phone and finds the pictures. He hands it to Sofia. Her eyes widen as she looks back to him, “The Camorra is going to destroy you!”

“It’s staged.”

Sofia looks back at the picture, eyes narrowing. “It is?”

“Lorenzo and Gianna have agreed to do the same. Hopefully, it will be enough to convince Mateo. If not…” He gestures with his head towards the other room.

Isabella was the contingency plan. Unfortunately, she was the contingency plan for every possible thing that could go wrong.

“How’d you get Lorenzo to agree?”

“I agreed to testify in front of the High Table that Mateo was trying to commit treason. Reverse of DeLuca’s plan. Instead of the Camorra falling and the Syndicate reaping the benefits, Syndicate will fall. The Camorra will be strengthened. And the contract on Helen will be lifted.”

Sofia nods along, handing John back his phone.

“Not bad. I can’t believe you thought of it.”

“I didn’t.” John says with a shrug, “I was more than willing to just kill them and suffer the consequences.”

“There’s the idiotic bastard I know.”

“Helen wouldn’t entertain it as an option. She came up with faking their deaths. And the plan with Isabella.”

Sofia inclines her head, “Seriously?”

His lips twitch just thinking about his love, “Hels is incredibly good at what she does. She pieced together that DeLuca wasn’t working alone long before I did. Kept telling me that he was too self-absorbed to come up with that kind of detailed plan. Kept pushing me to look at his mom.”

The other assassin leans forward, eyeing John with blatant curiosity. Like she can’t quite decide what she thinks about it all. After a minute of not being able to find whatever it is that she’s looking for, she says aloud, “I don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“She’s smart. Pretty. Clearly cares about you if she’s willing to put up with you and figure out how to save you. You admit you’re in love with her.“

John looks away, “So?”

“So why aren’t you fucking?”

He shakes his head, still looking at the ground, “You’re worse than Marcus.”

“I’m serious. You’ve kept her around, despite the obvious dangers of our world. But you’re still keeping her at arm’s length. Why?”

John exhales a long breath. If she had only asked him that question a week ago, he would have been able to respond without hesitation.

It was safer for both of them to avoid intimacies. Of course, he can’t say he wasn’t attached to her already. The stalking negated that in itself.

But sex complicated things. It always complicated things.

Then there was the matter that she was, technically, still his therapist. And though Helen was right, they did have god-awful boundaries, enough had changed over the course of the week that he couldn’t use that as an excuse.

And, if he was already being honest with himself, he didn’t think Helen felt that way about him. She was always so professional, even when she teased him. It never occurred to him that she might have feelings for him too.

By the time he found out, they were already in over their heads with DeLuca.

And, truth be told, it didn’t matter that she held some kind of affection for him, too. She was still too good for him. And despite what she said and thought, he would always believe that.

“I thought I could keep her away from our world. That if I didn’t cross that line, no one would come for her.”

Sofia nods, genuinely looking sympathetic to his plight. “Relationships and the Underworld don’t mix. You can’t go to bed with someone when you’re both clutching a knife under your pillow, but you can’t date outsiders. You can’t walk in two worlds.” She inclines her head, “But her contract went viral. And now, for better or for worse, she’s in our world.”

John shakes his head. “No. No, Helen can’t stay in the Underworld.”

“People aren’t just going to forget, John.”

“She has a life. Family, friends. A career that she’s worked hard for. I can’t take that away from her.”

“I know it won’t be easy, but she’s already in. There’s no turning back from that.”

He blinks and licks his lips, considering a thought he had never allowed himself to fully entertain. “What if there was?”

“There isn’t.”

“Helen’s only tie to the Underworld is me.” John says aloud, “But what if I wasn’t tied here.”

Sofia’s eyes narrow, “You mean leaving?”

It was unheard of, he knew. A near impossible task, especially for someone like him. Someone who had so many ties to the Underworld and virtually none in the real world.

He nods, more to himself than to her.

“Could you really give this all up?”

“For her?” John asks, nodding, “Yes.”

Sofia shakes her head, pushing, “Don’t just say that, John. Really think about it. If you cut ties from the Underworld, you’ll be isolated in a way you never have experienced. You won’t be able to come and go from the Continental. The High Table won’t protect you from legal trouble or the police. Friendships will be compromised because you can’t just walk between the two worlds. All those markers you’ve spent years collecting will be worthless.”

“You’d have to blend into the real world. And the rules are different there. No more fights, no more killing. You’d have to follow the social rules that exist for outsiders. And it’s a whole lot of bullshit. If someone disrespects you, you can’t just snap their neck. You have to take it.”

“And you’ll be utterly alone. You may love Helen and she may love you, too, but she won’t understand. She won’t get that the rules you two live by are different. She won’t understand the extent of everything you stand to lose—wealth, status, privilege. Because you’ll be nobody.”

“And, John, you hate to depend on anybody for anything. But you’ll need to depend on her to navigate the real world. You’ll need to trust her implicitly. Have to learn to let her take the lead. You, who have spent your entire life alone, will have to figure out how to let somebody in completely.”

“Now, tell me, do you really think that you can do that? That you can give up your entire life and livelihood for this woman?”

For her to be happy? To have her life back?

“Yes.”

Sofia watches him, but he holds her gaze. He knows it wouldn’t be easy, but he also knows that he could do it. Without regret or hesitation.

After a minute, she softly asks, “Then what’s stopping you?”

“She deserves so much better and—”

“That might be the most misogynistic thing I’ve ever heard you say.” Sofia interrupts.

“What?”

“Your Helen, she’s smart, right?”

He nods, “Ridiculously.”

“Uh huh. And she’s emotionally stable?”

“She shouldn’t be, all things considered, but she is.”

“Then why are you doubting her ability to make her own damn decision about what she wants and what she deserves?”

The breath he has just taken now feels trapped in his chest. John is frozen in place as he realizes that is exactly what he had been doing. Not purposefully, but true all the same. Making decisions, calling the shots.

But that wasn’t his job.

Fuck.

“I have to go.”

…………………………………………………………………………

The drive is a blur and it’s a miracle he doesn’t get pulled over. He doesn’t touch the brake pedal until the moment he’s turning into the driveway of the safehouse.

Half his day has been lost in a car and he can’t bring himself to care as he throws the car into park. He slams the door behind him, hurrying up the stairs and into the house. Marcus looks up as John reaches the living room, eyeing him over a furrowed brow.

John ignores him, focusing instead on the sound of someone moving about in the kitchen.

Helen looks up as he rounds the corner and her mouth curves into a smile at the sight of him, “You’re back earl—mm!”

John places a hand on either side of her head, drawing her in for a kiss.

There’s a moment where she freezes, almost stunned, before Helen seems to realize what is happening. And then her arms wrap around him, reaching up over his shoulders as her lips part. She kisses back with fervor.

Her lips are softer than he imagined and, oh, he had imagined them a thousand a day for months.

He kisses her again, unable to stop himself now that he has begun. She tastes sweet and perfect and he can’t quite figure out how he’s made it this far without ever having done this.

Helen’s tongue brushes across his lip and he meets it, licking and sucking at her like a dying man.

And, fuck, he hopes he dies like this. Asphyxiated, drowning in her kiss.

Let this be how he dies.

He’s never wanted anything so badly in his life. Just release with her taste in his mouth, her body pressed to his. Oh, how he loves her.

Her hand winds its way into his hair, holding him to her. Unyielding. He growls in response, his own hands trailing down her body. Down her torso, his fingers digging into her flesh as he tries to learn and memorize the way her body feels under his hands.

“Fucking finally!” He idly hears Marcus exclaim but he literally doesn’t give a single shit.

His hands reach Helen’s waist as her teeth gently graze at his lower lip before sucking it into her mouth again.

John grips her hard, lifting her from the ground, pulling her body impossibly closer to him.

And his beautiful girl responds by tightening her arms around him, wrapping those perfect legs around him.

Good, he thinks, because they aren’t doing this here. Both for their sakes and for Marcus.

She doesn’t stop kissing him as he turns around to head back to their bedroom. Her wet mouth trails over his beard. Her lips press kisses across his face, his neck as he rushes down the hall before slamming the door behind him.

Helen unwraps her legs as the door closes and John, reluctantly, gets the hint and lowers her back to the floor.

Even as she stands, however, she doesn’t stop. Instead, she kisses him with renewed vigor. Her grip in his hair remains the same, pulling him down to her height.

He wants to get lost in her kiss.

Her warmth, her softness, her taste…

He needs to commit it to memory so he can never forget how she feels. To know what it’s like to kiss someone you love.

And no, this isn’t his first time doing this, but it’s like a puzzle is clicking into place. A realization, a moment of oh, this is what it’s supposed to be like when he kisses the woman he loves.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

He wants to say them but his lips are otherwise preoccupied. Helen controls the kiss now, as his hands rest, one on her waist, the other wrapped around her.

Her tongue circles his and John barely finds the strength to maintain his balance. They each vie for a better angle, deepening the kiss and he wonders, to himself, if she’s as weak in the knees as he is at the contact.

He wants to swallow her; to consume her.

To be swallowed and consumed by her.

Is that possible?

And he’s not making assumptions. He doesn’t want to presume that this is going in any specific direction but his heart just about leaps out of his chest when she breaks the kiss. She steps back half a step, placing enough room between them where she can reach down. He watches her tug her t-shirt over her head. She discards it without a care.

He barely has a moment to soak in the sight of her, the dark blue of her bra standing out against her creamy skin, before her arms are back around him. Encasing him.

Helen steps backwards and John finds himself kicking off his shoes as she leads him back towards the bed.

She releases his hair only for her hands to drop to his chest. Releasing the buttons on his vest, and his jacket. John’s hand goes for his belt, undoing the clasp to allow him to pull out the ends of his shirt. She pushes the shirt off of his shoulders, taking the vest with it, as she turns so that John is the one walking backwards.

His legs meet the edge of the bed and she gives him a guiding push. He lets himself sit on the edge of the bed as she has wordlessly directed.

He can barely process a thought before she has climbed onto his lap, a leg on either side of him. Helen catches his face in her hands and kisses him again.

John never wants this to end, he thinks, as she rises up on her knees so that she is a head above him.

How can she be so gentle while she is being so passionate?

She breaks the kiss, only for the sake of oxygen. Helen gasps for breath as she rests her forehead on his, her eyes flickering open to look down at him.

Dark, like a Belarusian forest, her eyes gaze at him with a mix of adoration and curiosity. But she doesn’t ask, instead, drawing her head up so she can kiss his forehead.

Affection blooms in him anew and he knows, he knows that he doesn’t deserve this.

But Hels didn’t believe in deserving or not deserving. And Sofia had been right when she had reminded him that this choice didn’t rest on him. It was Helen’s to make.

She kisses his nose and his heart skips a beat.

I love you.

The words that had been trapped in his head, his heart for months on end. Rattling around, growing louder and louder every time he looked at her or heard her voice. Every time she entered his thoughts, which was all the time.

“I love you.”

Her hand slips down to his chin, tipping his head up so that he meets her eyes. “I love you, too.”

Her lips descend on his again before he can even process her response. She deepens the kiss, wrapping her arms around him to pull herself closer to his body.

And then, it clicks. Her words settle into his head.

John moves quickly, faster than she’s ever seen him. An arm comes around her and Helen is flipped from his lap onto her back. She gasps in surprise as John suddenly appears above her, straddling her.

He kisses her back, hard. His teeth graze at her lip before he demands, “Say it again.”

Helen’s breath hitches, her hand coming around to run over his chest, stopping at his heart.

“I love you.” She tells him, holding his eyes. Leaving no room for fear or doubt or disbelief.

His heart clenches.

No one, save her, had ever uttered those words towards him before. Not once in his life had that kind of affection ever been directed his way. Not in any language, by any person.

“I love you.” She repeats, bowing her head slightly to maintain eye contact as he starts to get lost in his thoughts. Helen pulls him back, like she always does. His life, his love, his anchor.

John kisses her again, keeping one arm wrapped around her. Her skin is warm and soft and he wants to touch and kiss every inch of it.

Helen presses a soft peck to his lips before her head veers to the side. She kisses his neck, licking at the exposed flesh. Sucking it between her lips and John feels his length aching and straining against his pants. He shifts to alleviate the growing tension. It only serves to remind him that he is atop her.

He moves his hands, trailing her torso. Feeling her curves under his palm. Her skin is soft and smooth, unmarred with battle wounds. Attesting to her innocence.

Her teeth graze at his neck and his fingers dig into her flesh. He can’t help but hold on to her at the sensation.

“Fuck!” He swears and he can feel Helen’s mouth form into a smile. She kisses the spot she had just grazed before kissing his mouth again.

She arches her back and moves her hands from his body, reaching under herself to the clasp at her bra. With nimble, practiced fingers, she undoes the latch. John pushes up to give her the room to discard the garment. Helen crawls backwards up the bed and he follows her, entranced by the sight of her breasts.

He feels powerless to stop himself, surging forward and kissing the swell of her chest. He licks at her flesh, dragging his open mouth across the soft mounds until he reaches her hard nipple. He swirls his tongue around the bud, reveling in the way she takes a sharp breath at the contact. She arches her back, pressing her breast further into his mouth.

He sucks greedily at her, his hand coming up to caress her untouched breast. His fingers do the best they can to mirror his mouth, squeezing her flesh and pinch at her nipple.

“John!” She gasps his name and it encourages him all the more. He nips at her tit, grazing his teeth along before he switches attentions.

He kisses her other breast as he switches hands, groping at her. He feels his own spit in his hand as he rubs her tender flesh.

She moans, her head falling back into the mattress. Her hips grind into his and it’s all he can do to not let his eyes roll back into his head.

Even still clothed, he’s harder than he’s ever been.

Helen reaches between them, her hand slipping into his pants, under the band of his boxers. He hisses as her hand brushes against his cock.

One hand weaves its way into his hair, pulling him up from her breast so she can kiss him again.

Is she as addicted as he is? He wonders, while her other hand wraps around his length.

Her hands are impossibly soft as she runs her hand up his cock and gently back down. He feels himself twitch in her grasp and he deepens the kiss. His tongue swirls around hers before he sucks the muscle into his mouth.

He loves her clever tongue. The gentleness that rolls off it in quiet, tender moments or the lashing of the storm in the moments she takes no shit. It tastes as sweet as her.

Helen’s thumb circles the head of his cock and he thrusts into her hand.

Is this real? He thinks. Is this actually happening? Or has he finally lost it?

He’d spent so long imagining what her touch would feel like, what her kiss would taste like that it couldn’t possibly live up to the expectations in his mind. But, fuck, she was better.

She pumps him in her hand and John shoots out his own to catch her wrist, to stop her, before it’s over before it begins. Helen whines softly at being stopped but releases him, only to reach for the edge of his pants to push them down.

He obliges, discarding them with the rest before hooking his fingers at the top of her leggings and dragging them down her body, along with her panties. He crawls down her body, kissing her chest, her stomach with every inch.

He can fucking smell her arousal. She kicks them off at the ankles and John parts her thighs, getting lost in the sight that befalls him.

And, again, he has dreamed of this. Of burying his face between her thighs and driving her wild with his tongue until she is an aching, quivering mess. A myriad of fantasies slip into his head where he has done just that.

He glances up at her, watching the harsh rise and fall of her chest as she tries to regain her breath. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips as she watches him.

His lips quirk into a small smile, holding her gaze as he bows his head. John’s tongue slips between her slick folds, tasting her essence. He growls at the tangy flavor, dragging his tongue up to her clit.

Her hips jolt and John smiles against her. He kisses the soft bundle of nerves before licking her again. And again.

John’s mouth dips to her opening, pressing his tongue inside as her wetness floods his tongue and coats his beard. Just like her very presence, he thinks of how easily it will be to become addicted to this. Her taste and smell. The way she grinds her pussy against him to alleviate the tension he knows must be growing within her.

And John has changed his mind. This is how he wants to die. Drowning in her pussy as she convulses around him desperately.

Her thighs hold him in place and he would be more than happy to remain here until he either asphyxiates or drowns in her.

He moves his tongue and Helen keens, her high-pitched moan egging him on. He swallows her down and nips at her lower lips before turning his attentions back to her throbbing clit.

He takes the bud within his mouth, teasing it with his tongue as a stream of swears and pleas escape Helen’s lips.

“Fuck, John! Fuck! Please… right there. Fuck!”

He rolls his tongue over the bundle and her please turn into a shriek. He doesn’t ease up.

Instead, he continues his ministrations, bringing a hand to her opening. He teases her with a finger. He coats it in her slick before sliding the digit inside her. She clamps down around him and John rewards her by sucking her clit.

She cries out again and John slips a second finger into her.

Helen’s leg comes up and around his shoulder. She uses the position to bring her pussy impossibly closer to his face.

John breaks away long enough to nip at the soft, sensitive flesh of her thigh as his fingers stretch her, preparing her. He turns his hand and curls his fingers up and Helen almost seems to levitate with the way she arches up into him.

Her words have lost meaning, slipping into a cacophony of non-sensical begging for his cock. His name on her lips drives him crazy.

He’s torn between tormenting her like this, riding his fingers while she grinds against his tongue, and giving her what she begs for.

John decides on mercy, if only for the sake they had both waited long enough.

He removes his fingers from her and sucks them into his own mouth, tasting her again. Addicted to the taste. Crawling back up her body, he rests himself between her thighs and he kisses her.

Her breath comes out in a stutter as he thrusts his tongue deep into her mouth. He forces her to taste herself on his tongue as he wraps his hand around the back of her head, his fingers becoming lost in her hair.

“Next time,” he promises as he breaks the kiss, holding her back from following him with his grip in her hair, “Next time, I’m going to fuck you on my tongue until your throat is too hoarse to scream.”

She tries to lift her head to kiss him, only for him to yank at her hair.

“John, please!” she rolls her wet core against him.

“Please what?” He kisses her jaw.

“Fuck me!”

His lips twitch as he presses his lips to hers, slanting his mouth to deepen the kiss as he reaches between them. John takes his cock in hand, leading it to her soaking pussy.

She brings her hips to meet him as he kisses her hard enough to bruise both their lips, and John slips inside of her.

Helen whimpers at the contact, again, wrapping her leg around him to take him deeper.

John chokes on his breath. He’d waited so long for this, for her. And now she’s here. In his bed, naked, beneath him. He’s buried inside her and he wants to savor it but he wants her to come undone around him even more.

He rolls his hips and Helen’s grip on him tightens all the more. He reaches down to her leg still stretched out and brings it up. Eagerly, she wraps it around his hips, like the other one. Clinging to him.

She was already close before they began and, already, she found herself on edge again.

He hopes she knows that he’s not letting her go after this. He can’t live without this now that he knows what it feels to be inside her.

His movements, which had started gently, slowly, pick up a pace. Become more frenzied.

Nails rake down his back.

He responds with a bite to her lip, grazing his teeth along. As they part, Helen curls her head into his shoulder. Her breaths come in quick, sharp increments.

Her mouth opens on his shoulder and she bites down, making John groan. His already frenzied thrusts start to lose control as he can feel pleasure building inside of him.

Helen screams, muffled by his shoulder, as she breaks apart. Her nails dig into his back as she thrashes into the mattress, but John doesn’t stop.

He reaches between them, pressing his thumb on her clit as he continues to thrust. The action prolongs her orgasm and he feels her pussy convulsing around him.

John feels dizzy, intoxicated as his own pleasure reaches a new height before he, too, comes undone. With a cry, he feels himself release, spilling inside of her as his hips start to slow, still rocking against hers.

He gasps for breath as her pussy milks him. He turns to kiss the top of her head, her face still buried in the crook of his neck. Her breaths are still uneven.

John swallows as he wraps his arms under her, holding her to him as he rolls to his side, taking her with him.

Helen curls into him, holding him just the same. He strokes her hair, still caught up in the stunned disbelief of what had just happened between them.

It occurs to John that he has lived his entire life with one foot in the grave. Ready for death, even if not expecting it. But as she holds him, clings to him, it breaks over him at once that he is not ready to leave the world behind.

Salvation found in her kiss; heaven is where he is still buried deep within her.

Can he stay here forever?

He feels her lips shift into a smile against his neck and he kisses her head again.

Hels looks up, her eyes twinkling playfully. She reaches a hand to his forehead, brushing back sweat-soaked hair so she can see his face.

“What took you so long?”

#john wick #helen wick #john wick talk #john wick fanfiction #john wiction #john x helen wick #helen x john wick #sofia al-azwar #marcus (john wick)

16 notes · View notes

wincestismyguiltypleasure · 4 years

Text

Sam didn't sleep much.

Sometimes he had nightmares, sometimes it was just good 'ol fashion insomnia that kept him up for hours on end. Either way, the lack of rest always made him irritable and mean. Which, given his current status as an emotional sixteen year old boy, was frustrating because he really didn't need help in either of those departments. Especially on days when he had to get up early.

"Rise and shine, Sammy!"

"Fuck off," Sam grumbled, forcing himself to roll out of bed.

"Mornin' to you too, kiddo," his brother chuckled as he reached out to ruffle Sam's hair. Carefree smile fading from his lips when Sam slapped his hand away and shot him a dirty look.

"What crawled up your ass and died?"

In response, Sam stared daggers at his big brother; clearly agitated that Dean had the audacity to ask such a stupid question. Like he wouldn't be pissed as shit if Sam came at him with that kind of enthusiasm after barely getting three hours of sleep.

"Really?" Sam asked sarcastically as he cocked his head to the side. What the Hell was wrong with his brother right now?

Most of the time, Dean was sympathetic to Sam's situation. He'd let his little brother lay in bed as long as he could without John losing his shit, and he would rub Sam's back, trying to relieve some of the tension that the lack of sleep put there. He'd even let his brother get out of training when their father wasn't around to force the issue. Anything to let Sam rest when he was exhausted like this.

But Sam could tell by the dangerous look in Dean's eyes that today was going to be different. He wasn't going to take it easy on Sam, so Sam sure as Hell wasn't going to take it easy on Dean.

"Deep throat a cactus, asshole."

Sam puffs out his chest and sets his jaw when Dean gets in his face, but that evil grin tugging at the corner of his brother's lips makes his knees feel unsteady.

"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed this mornin', huh princess?"

Sam shoves Dean hard in the chest before he can think better of it, his brother letting out a string of curses as he stumbled backwards a little bit.

"That's it."

"Ow! What the Hell, Dean?!" Sam shouted, rubbing his arm gingerly where his big brother had just punched him. He knew Dean was going to retaliate, he just didn't think the older boy was going to be so savage about it. "That hurt!"

"Aw, baby."

The inflection in Dean's voice was strange, sounding like something caught between comfort and insult. He was rubbing Sam's arm now, soothing the ache. And that odd look on his face, coupled with his weird tone made Sam feel really funny. Like he was too hot and too cold all at the same time.

"Did you seriously just sucker punch me then call me baby?" Sam asked incredulously, letting out a high pitched yelp when Dean's soft touch turned to iron and he yanked Sam forward by his bruised arm. The two of them nose to nose, staring each other down like an alpha wolf squaring up with a rebellious pup.

"That wasn't a term of endearment, Sam. I was calling you a baby," Dean said with a shit eating grin; the condescending tone of his voice making his little brother blush all the way down to his toes.

"Fuck. You."

Sam had to fight back a needy whimper when Dean tighten his grip. Every instinct he had in his body suddenly urging him to roll over and bare his neck to the older boy.

What the actual fuck was going on?

"Boys!"

Sam nearly jumped out of his skin when John came busting through the door, clapping his hands and telling them to get a move on.

"Bitch," Dean muttered under his breath before finally letting Sam go, careful to dodge the wild punch his little brother threw in retaliation.

"Jerk."

-------

Sam's anger did not subside once they were on the road. His cheeks heating up again at the very thought of his brother humiliating like that. It even made him squirm a little when he remembered the sound of Dean's voice, low and full of mock sympathy.

But there was also something calming about that tone. That made his eyes glaze over and his body tingle. Fuck! How was he half-hard and on the verge of falling asleep in the backseat right now? This was the most relaxed he'd felt in forever. And what for? Because his brother had been a dick back to him for once?

Honestly, just thinking about how stupid that sounded made Sam's blood boil. And he made sure Dean knew that by kicking his seat as hard as he could a few times just for spite. John yelled at him, of course but it was so worth it to see his big brother outwardly as frustrated as Sam felt on the inside.

However, by the time they'd reached the diner exhaustion had set in and Sam was less concerned about making Dean's life miserable and more concerned about getting comfortable. Automatically resting his head on Dean's shoulder the minute the older boy slid into the booth next to him.

Dean shot him an annoyed sideways glance, not a surprise, but didn't try to push him away.

And the hypocrite in Sam wanted to tell Dean to stop acting like an asshole and cuddle him, but he refrained. For his sake and Dean's.

"Sam quit hanging on your brother and sit up," John chastised as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and tossed them on the table.

"Whatever."

Sam huffed loudly and slumped over, his arms folded under him so he could rest on the table. Purposefully slouching because John had told him not to.

"You need to check that attitude, son," his father warned, but Sam barely registered John's words. His brain was too busy short circuiting over the fact that Dean's hand was now resting on his right thigh. Long, talented fingers gently trailing up the seam of his jeans and then back down.

His touch was light, almost playful, but that didn't stop Sam's leg from shaking under the pressure of it.

"What can I get y'all to drink?" A sweet voice snapped Sam out of his daze, eyes darting over to the pretty brunette standing at the edge of their table, regarding her wearily.

"I'll take a coffee, sweetheart. Thank you." John said with that killer smile that always made chicks swoon.

"Milk and sugar?" the waitress asked with a soft giggle and Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes. Yuck.

"Black, please."

Once Dean had ordered the same it was Sam's turn, and much to his father's dismay, he didn't even sit up when he grumbled chocolate milk at the lady without so much as looking at her.

Big mistake.

"Ouch!" Sam shot up when he felt his brother pinch the inside of his thigh, knee connecting with the bottom of the table hard enough to make the silverware rattle.

"Manners, Sam. This nice lady is just trying to do her job," Dean said through gritted teeth in the most civil tone he could muster. Rough fingertips caressing the bruise that had started to bloom across Sam's delicate skin before inflicting more damage. Only this time, he added a twisting motion that left the younger boy with tears in his eyes.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Sam apologized as Dean started rubbing his thigh again, the intense mix of pain and pleasure sending little electric shocks up his leg. Unbearable heat pooling deep in the pit of his stomach as he struggled to find his words.

"May I please have a glass of chocolate milk?"

"Of course, sweetie. And don't worry. I'm always cranky before noon," the waitress said with a wink before turning on her heels and disappearing into the kitchen.

"Sa-"

John was just about to lay into his youngest when Dean caught Sam by the jaw.

"Dean, wha-"

"You gonna start behavin' any time soon?" Dean growled, his bright green eyes full of rage.

God, he was beautiful and terrifying and Sam had no idea why that made him want to defy Dean even more. He wanted to push his brother, poke and prod until Dean snapped like an overstretched rubberband. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that was making him so defiant? Or maybe it was the unspoken desire Sam had for Dean to flip him on his back and fuck the attitude out of him that had the younger boy so ready to fight?

"Nope," Sam replied, making sure to put a dramatic emphasis on the P in nope so it would pop just like Dean hated. Fuck, he just wanted the older boy to make him feel like he had earlier. Embarrassed and completely turned on. So relaxed that his body felt like it was floating.

"Mmhm," Dean hummed as if to say we'll see about that, before letting go of Sam's chin to shove his face away. Much to the younger boy's disappointment.

It hurt, but Sam didn't let it show, uncried tears welling up in his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest with a huff.

"I'm going for a walk."

Sam was honestly surprised when John didn't try to stop Dean from storming out, but when he turned to see his father's tired eyes studying him, he knew exactly why he hadn't.

"Christ," John muttered, shaking his head as he pulled a cigarette from the pack on the table. "You two need to stop this bullshit."

Sam bit his trembling bottom lip and looked away. The ambiguity of his father's statement making his stomach go sour.

"I didn't do anything," Sam lied, suddenly finding himself stroking the throbbing bruises Dean had made on his inner thigh with his thumb.

Unable to stop himself from wondering if his brother had really left because he wanted to calm down, or if he was just out there fuming, thinking of all the violent methods he could use to make Sam behave.

Shit. The uncertainty of it all sent a chill up his spine.

God, Sam hoped they were on the same page with this. And he prayed that Dean's anger didn't stop him from tumbling to the same conclusion he had come to earlier in the car. That the best way to help Sam get some sleep and stop acting like an asshole was for Dean to break his little brother down and then fuck him unconscious.

#Wincest #Weecest #the moral of this story is that Sam humiliation kink Winchester needs a hard f u c k and a long nap #I mean don't we all #lmfao #seriously I don't know what this is #I just like writing about violent flirty brothers

177 notes · View notes

wowweeharrystyles · 4 years

Text

Part 13 | Nerves & New York City | 9.7k words

‘Sequins & Zippers’ Summary: An internship with Harry Lambert transformed into a job of a lifetime - Aurora Del Gatto finds herself touring the world with the one & only Harry Styles as his ‘Head of Wardrobe.’ Aurora is nothing but nerves & excitement as she packs her bags & almost 100 custom designer suits that belong to an unbelievably kind rockstar. She never thought she’d fall in love on top of it all.

a/n: here it isssss, thanks for being patient with me y’all. hope you enjoy 💕

Sequins & Zippers Masterlist

General Masterlist

Don’t forget that reblogs help writers out a ton !!!

love y’all, mean it.

“Aren’t you warm in those corduroy pants?” Aurora asks Harry as he comes over to take a swig of water from the bottle she has sitting on the seat next to her.

“Trying to get me to take off my trousers, love?” Harry quips back as he untwists the cap.

“You’re annoying, you know that right?” She says before she adjusts the leg of her old worn out jean shorts and brings the straw of her iced coffee to her lips. “But seriously, I’m just sitting out here and I’m warm, how can you not be in those pants?”

“I’m fine Ror, really.”

“Whatever you say,” she singsongs, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead.

The sun is shining bright in the almost cloudless sky. Harry is playing catch with Mitch and Adam and a few crewmembers jump in and out of the game as the morning turns into afternoon. Harry was excited to be back at Hersheypark Stadium and the seasoned crewmembers were too, with it being the only outdoor stadium in the entire tour.

Aurora has never loved the heat much, though. Between the inevitable sunburn she always gets no matter how diligent she is with applying sunscreen and the chaffing of her thighs from shorts that always end up riding up while she walks, she finds it hard to focus on how the sun feels on her skin. She finds it even harder whilst just watching Harry run around in those lilac corduroy pants. She doesn't find it hard to watch as his t-shirt pulls from where it’s trying to stay tucked into the waistband, his laurel tattoos peaking out every so often when he reaches up to catch the baseball. She hides her lingering gaze behind her sunglasses and her smirk around the straw of her coffee.

Aurora’s phone ringing pulls her out of her stupor and she shakes her head as she watches Harry run off to catch the stray ball that’s flying through the air.

“Hi mom!” Aurora answers her phone.

“Hi Honey, how are you?”

“I’m good, we’re in Philly right now, trying to enjoy the sun and beautiful day as much as we can before getting to work.”

“Good, you shouldn’t be working too hard anyways.” She can tell her mom is smiling through her voice. “I was just calling to confirm our plans and such for NYC.”

“Oh yeah of course! I’m so excited to see you and dad!”

“We’re way more excited to see you, trust me,” her mom laughs.

“Yeah so, we should get to NYC on the 19th and we can get into our airbnb around 1pm.”

“Ror, are you sure you want us to stay with you? We can just travel back and forth or get our own hotel room.”

“No mom, I asked to get an Airbnb so we could stay together. Haven’t seen ya in since March, I wanna spend time with you!”

“Well, what about Harry?”

“He'll probably stay with us, if that’s alright. He’s got a handful of stuff to take care of while we’re in the city, a few meetings and friends to see, but he’s coming to dinner with us on the 20th. Wants to do the whole official meet the parents thing,” Aurora explains and her mom can definitely hear by the tone of her voice that she said it with an eyeroll. “Then I thought we could go back to the airbnb and play games or watch a movie, just a normal family night. I think Harry would like to be a part of that.”

“Why do you say it like that?”

Aurora pauses before she answers. “Just think he’d like to have a relaxing night, something more normal than ordering room service or a business meeting, some real family time.” Aurora looks up from the chipped polish on her fingers and meets Harry's eyes across the open aisle of seats. They mirror each other's smiles. “2 nights at MSG are a big deal. I-I, I just know how he gets and I don’t want him to stress too much or be alone the night before.”

“We can do dinner a different night,” her mom suggests

“No, no, he’s the one who asked to do it that night in the first place.”

“Oh okay, dinner and games night it is.”

“Great, and then the next day is MSG night 1 and I thought I’d show you around the arena and what that's kinda like. They’ll be food at the arena but you can go out for dinner if you want. You’re still planning to leave the next morning, yeah? You can stay for the 2nd night if you want, I have spare tickets.”

“Okay sounds good. No, go ahead and give those tickets to someone else. Your dad and I have to get back, he has to leave for a conference later that day,” her mother responds before going on about the different places her and Aurora’s dad have planned to go to. Even though they live fairly close to the city, they don’t go as often as they would like and have a list of their favourite places they always have to stop by. Aurora knows she’ll definitely be tagging along to the Fabric District with her mom as some point too.

Aurora entertains her mother on the phone for a bit longer before she starts to notice crew members getting back to work, Mitch and Adam retreating to the air conditioned trailers and then Harry coming to sit next to her, finishing off his water.

“Mom, I gotta,” she starts as Harry presses a kiss to her head, “I gotta go. Gotta get to work.” A kiss to the back of her ear. “Yeah, I’ll talk to you later.” A kiss to the vein in her neck causes her shoulder to rise to her ear. “Love you, mom. Bye!” A kiss to the base of her neck, near her collarbone. “You’re annoying,” Aurora barely says before Harry kisses her square on the lips. She giggles when he pulls away and stands up, grabbing her hands and pulling her with him.

“Come on, I’ve gotta train and you should get out of the sun.” Aurora looks at him with a questioning look. “You’re getting a little pink,” he says sweetly as he presses his finger to her shoulder and they watch as the spot turns white and then to a bright pink.

“Oh great,” she says.

Harry laughs lightly and wraps his arm around her shoulders lightly as they walk towards the side of the empty stage and back towards the trailers.

The sunset surrounds the entire stadium, a baby pink and orange glow creates the most beautiful lighting and only adds to the overall energy of the audience. Aurora can’t help but gaze at Harry and watch him watch the crowds that have come out to see him. He’s left his mint green suit jacket in his dressing room and rolled up the sleeves on his white shirt. The lens of his sunglasses glow golden as he adjusts them on the bridge of his nose. A familiar intro of a song starts and Aurora walks over to stand next to him.

“Ya know,” Aurora starts, knocking her hip against Harry’s, “if I weren't standing here next to you, I’d definitely be in the audience at one of these shows, singing along to ‘Olivia’ at the top of my lungs with a drink in my hand.”

Harry tosses an arm over her shoulder as he continues to look into the audience from the makeshift backstage area. He sets his red solo cup down on top of one of the large black crates. “Would you now?”

“Sure would.” Harry tightens his arm around Aurora’s shoulder and tucks her in closer to him.

It’s not until they head back into his trailer to get his suit jacket that he teases her more about it and kisses her to make up for it.

“Why’s it that I’m wearing a pastel suit but the jacket you’re wearing is black?”

Aurora looks down at her clothes. High waisted jean shorts, a cream silk tank that’s tucked in and a less conspicuous suit jacket. Harry’s black suit jacket to be specific. She had taken the black Gucci jacket with her to take to the dry cleaners after the Ft Lauderdale show and it hadn’t made it back to the wardrobe cases yet.

“Well you only have one mint green suit and you need it tonight, so I thought I’d borrow this one instead.” Harry hums, a smirk quirking up one side of his mouth. He takes the lapels of his jacket and opens up the right side to take a look at the label sewn in. ‘Gucci’ is embroidered into the patch and underneath is Harry’s name. He hums again, a full smile flashing at Aurora now.

“You’ve always enjoyed seeing your name on me,” Aurora barely whispers. Harry’s hands move from his grip on the jacket to sneaking around Aurora’s waist underneath said jacket. His lips fall to her neck and the sounds of the crowd wash away for a moment. She giggles from the featherlight touch.

There’s a knock on the door. Without a doubt it’s the stage manager needing Harry to get his mic hooked up. Harry groans and drops his head to her shoulder.

“Come on,” Aurora starts, “you’ve got a show to do.” She pulls his head from her shoulder and adjusts his jacket one last time before pushing him out of the trailer.

Aurora watches the show from near the edge of the floor, leaning against one of the cement barriers. She pulls the jacket around her tighter as the night breeze comes through. Aurora’s heart swells when Harry picks a little girl out of the audience from in front of him at the B Stage.

“Do you have things in your ears? You’re very small,” Harry asks, accent thick. The crowd echoes in ‘aws’ and Aurora can’t help but smile. “Are you okay?” He asks next, accent still thick but voice pitched up an octave. “Having a good time? Good.”

He sings ‘Sweet Creature’ and Aurora can’t help but think about how he might react with her little cousins or maybe the kids of his friends. Then she thinks about how she might get to witness that and has to stop herself from letting her mind run totally free and reaching the idea of what a family of their own would look like years down the road.

| | | | |

The doorbell rings as a text comes through Aurora’s phone. Her parents are here. She looks at Harry, whose nerves are written on his face and it could be from a number of reasons. Aurora caresses his face for a moment, meeting his eyes and then kisses him softly before the doorbell rings again.

“Relax, it’ll be okay,” she tries to ease.

“Easy for you to say.”

“Now you know exactly how I felt when I met your mom,” she trails off as she reaches for the door.

“Rory!!” her mother exclaims as she walks through the now open door. Her mother tosses her bag on the bench in the small walkway and hugs Aurora tightly.

“Hi mom,” Aurora says, voice muffled against her shoulder.

“Aurora!” her father greets her next, waiting for his wife to let go of their daughter so he can greet her properly.

Aurora’s mom pulls away and goes straight to introduce herself to Harry. She hears the interaction while she hugs her dad.

“Harry, dear, so happy to finally meet you!”

“Pleasure’s all mine, Mrs. Del Gatto.”

When Aurora pulls away from her dad she introduces him to Harry and they exchange a handshake. Aurora doesn’t miss the tough face her dad tries to put on and Harry’s nervous smile.

Harry’s phone rings and he reaches in his pocket to turn it off quickly after glancing at the caller ID. Aurora knows it’s Jeff. It’s always Jeff.

“Harry actually has to head to some meetings,” Aurora says.

“I’m really sorry and hate to leave but my manager tries to get in as many meetings when I get a day in a major city, especially in New York,” Harry explains.

“No worries at all, dear,” Aurora’s mom eases.

“I’m all clear for dinner tomorrow night and hopefully can join you beforehand,” Harry says as he grabs his bag from the couch in the living room only a few feet from where they’re standing. Harry reaches for Aurora’s mother and kisses her on the cheek, “Lovely to meet you. And you, sir,” Harry nods at Aurora’s father. Harry turns to Aurora who is still standing near the door.

“Have a good afternoon of meetings. Just text me if anything changes, yeah?”

Harry nods before kissing her lightly, his free hand squeezing her hip. When he pulls away from Aurora he takes a moment to look at her and then tucks a tendril of hair behind her ear.

“Love ya,” he rushes out when he’s halfway out the door and Aurora blushes before saying it back.

| | | | |

- Meeting #3238734823 done. How’s your day so far? -

- hahaha how many more to go? Mom and I dragged Dad to the fabric district so I’m doing great-

- hm about a million more to go, it feels like. Haha wish I was with you. -

- Harry, if you were here I would be making you choose fabric to make you a new suit. -

- wait, can we make that happen even though i’m not there?” -

- uhm, DONE.-

- done deal. Okay, heading into meeting #3238734824. I’ll call you when I’m heading your way. -

“Is that Harry?” Aurora’s mom asks as she tries to peak over her shoulder.

“Yeah, he was just between meetings.”

“Doesn’t seem like he gets much time off.”

“Well, not so much right now, I guess. Being in the city makes it a perfect time for them to get some stuff out of the way. He normally actually has days off. Anytime it’s not a show day he gets to do whatever he pleases.”

“Whatever he pleases?” she asks accusingly.

“Mom…” Aurora groans. “I know it’s your job as a mom to be skeptical but please have an open mind.” Aurora’s mom purses her lips. “He’s good. Really good. And by ‘Whatever he pleases’ I mean he gets to make his own plan and decision and luckily for me, most of the time it’s something with the 2 of us, or we hang out with his band or the crew.” Aurora sighs, now. “I get that his life is totally different, but you gotta be open minded, Mom, please. He’s trying so hard and you purposefully trying to find things that are wrong won’t help you or us.”

“You’re really serious about him, aren’t you?” Aurora nods sheepishly. Her mom can read her daughter almost too well and she realises she hasn’t taken the time to do so enough now that they’re together, in person, right now. The thought of her baby, her youngest, traveling the world with a boy, who is a stranger to her (no matter how famous he is), is terrifying to her as a mother, but she sees that she needs to get past that. “I’m sorry, I promise not to jump down his throat. I can see how important this is for you both.”

“I really don’t want to add anymore stress to him and he so badly wants you to like him but if you’re going to pick him apart, I can’t put him through dinner.”

“Rory, honey, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be this way. I seriously promise not to add to his stress.”

Aurora sighs, for what feels like the millionth time in the past 5 minutes. “Thank you. I just want so badly for you to like him.”

“If he makes you happy, really truly happy, then I trust you and will love him.”

Aurora drops the basket in her hand and wraps her arms around her mother in a hug. A final sigh from Aurora’s mouth and it’s the last bit of worry that leaves her chest. The familiar scent of her mother’s clothes is comforting and she realises in this moment how much she missed her.

“Mom,” Aurora says as she hugs her mom tighter, “I’m really happy you’re here. I missed you a lot.”

“Aw honey,” her mother replies, pulling out of the hug. She takes Aurora’s face in her hands, “I missed you, too. Come on now, let's finish up here, shouldn’t make your dad wait too long.”

| | | | |

“Harry, sweetie, family dinner typically means no phones at the table.” Aurora’s mom explains after Harry pulls his phone out of his pocket for a 2nd time.

“Mom-”

“No, your mom is right,” Harry cuts Aurora off. “I’m sorry, I’m turning it off now.”

“If there’s something you need to take care of first, you can,” her mother offers when she sees the rosy colour blush on her daughter’s cheeks.

“No, there’s nothing important right now.”

“Har, everything okay?” Aurora asks when she sees his finger hover over the ‘slide to power off’ screen.

“Yeah, yeah, just a lot of texts coming through about tomorrow.” With that one sentence, Aurora knows what’s happening. She reaches her hand to hold onto his wrist closest to her and gives it a squeeze.

“Moms know what’s best I guess, right?” And Harry laughs at that, the whole table erupts in laughter.

The laughter dies down as their waiter brings their food to the table. Once everyone is busy with their meal, Aurora turns to Harry. “You okay?” she asks, voice almost at a whisper.

He nods, “Yeah, I’m alright. Probably should’ve turned my phone off earlier anyways. Everyone is trying to see me or come to the show.”

“Everyone you want to be there is already on the list and if they want to come that bad they’ll find a ticket. Honestly, they should have already bought a ticket.”

“Ror, be nice.”

“I am! Just saying it how it is,” Aurora retorts with a small shrug.

Harry leans over the short distance between them and presses a kiss to Aurora’s temple. With a blush ghosting onto her cheeks, they go back to their entrees in front of them.

“So, what’re your plans after the tour is over?” Aurora’s dad asks Harry.

“Uhm,” Harry stutters, looking towards Aurora briefly before back to her father, “I haven’t given it too much of a concrete thought yet, I suppose.”

“Nothing work wise planned?”

“No, I try to take time off between projects. I definitely think I’ll need some time before I get back to the studio and think about recording another album. There’s been whispers of other projects and things, but I’ve been focusing on this tour and I’ll have a look at what might come next after I take a break.”

“That sounds like a smart idea,” Aurora’s dad agrees.

“Speaking of plans come the end of the tour, honey,” Aurora’s mom turns her head towards her, “what have you been thinking of doing?”

“Oh there might be something in the works but nothing is for sure yet,” she says, pushing her fork around on her plate haphazardly.

“Rory,” Harry chastises, “don’t down play it like that. It’s for sure and you know it. You should tell them the news.”

Aurora peels her eyes from her plate and looks at Harry then to her parents. Their eyes are eager. She sighs as Harry reaches his hand under the table to squeeze at Aurora's thigh.

“Uh, so Harry Lambert called the other day when we were in Boston and he offered me a full time, permanent job.”

“Rory! That’s so exciting!” her dad exclaims.

“Wow! Yes! So you’ll be Harry’s stylist? Permanently?” Her mom begins with the questions. Aurora was unsure of how to tell her parents this new opportunity, traveling and moving is always a hard topic for her mom and add in the possible judgement and concern, Aurora couldn’t figure out an easy way to share the news. .

“Well that’s part of it, yeah, but it’s so much more than that. Lambert has his own styling business so I’m working with him on that.”

“So you’ll be moving back to London?” Her mom asks, a frown appearing on her face.

“Actually, no. I’ll be his point of contact, here in New York City. I’ll travel when needed for things, like to London or LA, especially for Harry’s stuff as he gets back to work later on in 2019 but I’ll live here and do a lot of shoots and jobs here to help Lambert as he keeps expanding and so he can stay in London more and take care of business there.”

“Whew, I thought you had fallen in love, gotten a new job and were about to leave for London permanently,” her mom shares and Aurora’s shoulders tense.

“Mom…” Aurora groans, almost a little upset that that is what her mom is choosing to focus on rather than the job she’s officially landed.

“Aurora, we are so excited for you,” her dad adds, knowing exactly how this conversation is going. “Aren't we, dear?” He encourages his wife.

“Oh of course, yes! But you can’t blame a mom for being worried about you moving so far away.”

“It’s fine,” Aurora brushes it off, shoulders tense still. Harry squeezes her knee under the table, reminding her he’s right there with her. She knows her mom is happy for her but she can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt every time her mother comments about her moving. A permanent residence in New York City, she thought would have sufficed, but her mom can’t overlook the idea of all her kids leaving home and moving away when it was her who encouraged them to do so in the first place.

Harry takes it upon himself to change the topic and begins to ask Aurora’s dad about his work. Aurora quietly finishes her food as Harry charms himself into the position of her dad's new best friend. They bond over old records and Harry can’t help but ask him about the few times he saw Fleetwood Mac in concert. Aurora and her mom simultaneously roll their eyes when he begins the family famous story of his first ever concert. Harry is engulfed in the conversation but there are only spare seconds that he’s not engaged with Aurora in some way. A hand on her knee, sometimes a squeeze to her thigh, his arm resting on the back of her seat and then moving to her shoulders when their empty plates are taken away.

Harry and Aurora’s mom playfully fight over who gets to pay the bill and Harry compromises with the idea of picking up wine (beer for him and Aurora’s dad) and dessert on the way back to the airbnb. Aurora’s mom smiles to herself when she signs the bill and puts her credit card away. Aurora can tell she’s happy and actually enjoying the evening even through some of the rocky bits.

“Why don’t we meet you back at the apartment?” Aurora suggests to her parents, looking for some way to get some sort of moment alone with Harry. “We’ll grab dessert and drinks while y’all get comfy and pick a game.”

Aurora’s parents agree to the plan and Aurora knows they’ll talk about Harry all the way back and Aurora’s mom definitely makes some sort of ‘All Knowing’ face, surely catching on to the idea of a moment alone, an evening walk alone with the city lights.

Harry isn’t one to shy away from a kiss or two but he hasn’t been able to properly kiss Rory in what feels like way too long. Under a street lamp, Aurora’s parents far down the block behind them walking in the opposite direction, he pulls her to a halt. He tucks some stray hair behind her ears as a small smile quirks up on his lips. Aurora mirrors it in a split second. Harry cradles Aurora’s head in his hands and finally kisses her the way he’s wanted to since he saw her rush up to him in front of the restaurant earlier this evening. His hands fall to her waist and the almost silky cotton is soft and he remembers noticing the pearl white trim on the neckline. It’s a dress he hasn’t seen, a dress Aurora had been saving. Aurora melts under him and she releases her weight into him. Harry’s hands don’t seem to stop moving for the few minutes they kiss under the flickering street lamp. When they pull away from each other Harry runs a feather light finger tip over the pearl white trim, starting at Aurora’s shoulder. Even in the New York summer heat, goosebumps follow his path. Aurora’s hands rest on the back of Harry’s neck and her thumbs play with the curls that grow longer and longer day by day. Harry kisses her forehead, sighs and then pulls her into his chest, his arms wrapping all the way around her waist. Harry hides his face into Aurora’s hair as a group walks past them and squeezes Aurora tighter.

“Everything alright?” she asks him.

“Yeah, missed you today,” he whispers. “Did I do okay?”

Aurora pulls away from him so she can get a look at his face. “Okay? Are you talking about dinner?” He nods. “Babe, you were great.”

“I’m sorry for making you tell them about your new job.” Aurora shakes her head. “I didn’t know you were worried about telling them. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, I’m glad you did. Made it easier with you there. My mom’s just always been so tough to share that excitement with. She gets over it eventually, she did with college, with my internship, with tour. The initial reaction is just hard cause she doesn’t go straight to being excited.”

They start walking down the street again and Harry reaches for Aurora’s hand and she gladly takes his. Harry’s quiet for a moment but Aurora pays no mind to it.

“I don’t know if it helps at all, but I’m proud of you. Incredibly excited for you,” he says when they turn a corner. Aurora spots the italian bakery lit up at the end of the block. Harry kisses the top of her head and the smile on her face grows.

“Thank you,” she replies and squeezes his hand. “Know you’re only excited cause this means I’ll still be working with you.”

“Hmm… definitely part of it,” he laughs, “But even if you had to work in some random city, with something nothing to do with me, I’d still be proud and excited for you. Always will be, no matter what.”

Aurora stops dead in her tracks and pulls him in for a kiss. “I love you a whole fucking lot, did you know that?”

“Had a feeling,” he whispers around a smile, his dimples deep. “Come on, I’ve got a craving for chocolate cake.”

When they let themselves into the apartment, Aurora’s parents have changed into some more comfortable clothes and are sitting in the living room, setting up a game of Monopoly. Once Harry and Aurora have changed as well and Harry has poured everyone a drink and cut the chocolate cake he was craving, they settle on the floor in the living room.

2 glasses of wine and a slice of cake later, Aurora is most definitely winning the game of Monopoly and Harry is horribly losing and has had to ‘borrow’ from the bank a handful of times. Aurora’s not sure if it’s the wine and chocolate or if it really is the ease of the evening that is making her so undeniably happy. Harry laughs along with the teasing from Aurora’s dad and happily refills her mother’s wine glass. He seems relaxed and worry free right now and Aurora’s thankful for that. Tomorrow will come and it’ll be a different story, but right now she takes this in. This moment in an unfamiliar apartment, with 3 of the people she loves most in the world. Harry steals a few glances every now and then, his hand lingers on her back or thigh every so often and Aurora plays with his grown out curls when she slides closer to him on the floor.

“Aurora, I should’ve brought your monopoly game from home!” Aurora’s mom says.

Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion because, here they are, playing monopoly but he can’t ask what’s so special about the one back home because Aurora quickly shoots a look at Harry before she gives her mother a look that could most definitely kill.

“Mom! Please don’t,” she pleads before she’s laughing.

“It would’ve been funny!”

“Oh what? Just like how you thought me bringing my One Direction posters on tour would be funny?”

“Dare I ask?” Harry adds in.

“Aurora made-”

“Mom!”

Harry wraps his arms around Aurora’s waist, “Rory, you shouldn’t interrupt your mother. Quite rude isn’t it?” he jokes.

“Aurora made a monopoly game for a class project one year and it was One Direction themed,” her mother shares.

Aurora groans before dropping her head into Harry’s chest, hiding her blush.

“Oh, did she now?” he teases.

Aurora knows she won’t hear the end of this for days, but she endures the teasing with a smile on her face and it's most definitely not because of the wine but because she is laughing with Harry and her mom and her dad. She needed tonight, they all did.

| | | | |

When they get to MSG, Harry shows Helene an old photo that he’s found on instagram. Fans had been tagging and tweeting it to him all morning and he smiles at the memory of it. He wants to recreate the photo, a way to keep a record of his journey. Helene loves the idea and tells Harry to meet her in the empty audience in 15 minutes.

“Okay, I’m gonna go get the wardrobe ready,” Aurora says about 10 minutes later.

“Oh, you’re not coming with?” Harry asks, trying to hide his disappointment.

Aurora tilts her head at him and she recognizes the look on his face. She saw it last when they were at the O2 in London, weeks ago. “I can come with, if you want?”

“I don’t want to put you behind schedule.”

“Don’t have much of a schedule and it’s still early. Come on let’s go find Helene!” She reaches for his hand and pulls him down the hall with her. “Everything alright?”

“Mhm, you know you keep me calm,” he says quickly, like it’s something everyone knows. Aurora brings his hand up to her face and presses a kiss to the back of it.

Aurora recognized the photo when Harry showed it to her this morning and now she laughs along with Harry and Helene as they try to get the perfect photo. Harry has a red bandana tied around his head, controlling his bed head and Aurora looks from the photo from 2012 to the sight in front of her. The cowlick at the crown of his head is exactly the same but the difference in the width of his shoulders is something Aurora can’t get over. Even in the baggy black t-shirt she can see the way his back muscles contract when he moves his arms and the way his waist tapers into his hips.

It feels like they take forever taking the photo once Aurora is only focusing on Harry’s back and then the difference between his bare arms to his now tanned, tattoo covered muscles. She sighs and pinches her bottom lip between her thumb and pointer finger.

“Ror!” Harry practically yells, both him and Helene laughing.

“Sorry what?” she says getting pulled out of her thoughts.

Harry gives her a look and Helene says something about needing to be somewhere and photos that need editing. “Where’d ya go just then?” Harry asks.

“No where, just thinking.”

“I know that look…” Harry drags on. “Come on.”

Harry pulls her up from the chair and pulls her along.

And that's how they end up giggling on the couch in Harry’s dressing room. Harry’s hovering over Aurora, the kissing has halted for a moment.

“Ror, how did this even happen?” Harry asks between giggles.

“They’re YOUR fancy Gucci pillows that caused the problem!”

Harry’s hands work at the strands of Aurora’s hair that have gotten caught around the beads that cover the pillow. She whines when it pulls slightly but can’t help but continue to laugh at the situation.

Finally, she’s free from the pillow and Harry tosses it to the floor. His smile is the last thing she sees before he’s kissing her again. His hips drop to hers and she can’t help but give in to the feeling and pull him in closer to her. Her hands sneak under his t-shirt and up his back.

Harry’s phone rings but they ignore it.

Then Aurora’s does too and they ignore that as well, until it rings non stop.

Harry groans, “you should probably get that.” Harry pulls away and sits back on his feet, knees still on either side of Aurora’s hips. He reaches towards the table and grabs her phone. He passes it to her below him and she rolls her eyes.

“It’s my mom, they’re probably here,” she groans. Harry grins, his dimple sinking deep.

Harry shifts slightly which causes Aurora to groan but for an entirely different reason. Harry laughs lightly and pulls down the tank she’s wearing as he was the one to push it up to get his hands on her skin in the first place. Aurora closes her eyes for a second to collect herself. Harry moves off of her and looks at his phone and rolls his eyes.

“More people coming out of the woodworks?”

“Mhm,” he hums, elbows resting on his knees. Aurora rubs his back soothingly and presses her lips to his neck.

“I was gonna give my parents a tour and show ‘em everything, but I can push it back if you want me to?” Aurora offers.

“No, go spend time with them. I need to workout anyways and sound check is earlier than normal. You can bring them to soundcheck if you want!” Harry sighs, “I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah I’ll bring ‘em round.”

“You’re coming to the preshow thing Jeff set up right?”

“Mhm,” Aurora hums, “and I’ll have your suit ready before then so we can just change you into it right before Kacey starts. Sound alright?”

“Okay, good. Yeah, that works,” he rushes out and his shoulders drop heavily.

“Hey, promise you’re good right now? You can come with, if you want.”

“Yes, I’m good, thank you,” he says, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Boxing will help for sure, always does.”

Aurora takes his head in her hands, tucking some messy curls back in place, surveying his eyes quickly before she leans in to kiss him softly.

The navy blue bandana tied around his neck makes Aurora smile as he moves around the room with a red solo cup in his hand. Everyone else in the room has booze in their cups but no one pays any attention to the fact that Harry has ice water in his. The room is loud and Aurora doesn’t love the chaos of it all so she focuses on Harry. He smiles at her from across the room when he sees a glimpse of her behind the head of whoever he’s talking to. She gave her parents the full tour of backstage and let them see a glimpse of what her life looks like lately. They left to get dinner before coming back for the show and Aurora’s glad to be able to be there for Harry for the night without distractions.

Aurora mingles with a few people she’s met before, but always keeping an eye on Harry. She’s star struck a handful of times as she watches Anna Wintour come and go, Zach Braff hang out near the bar, and Rob Sheffield chat with Helene. Even with the starstruck moments, Aurora has fun with what is easily deemed as her tour family. A few times, Harry meanders over to her and drags her along to introduce her to someone new. Repeatedly he refers to her as “his Aurora” and everytime Aurora blushes which earns her a kiss to the cheek or a squeeze to her hand or hip. In turn, she tugs on the bandana around his neck a few times.

As the crowd in the small room thins out, Harry takes it upon himself to make a spectacle of checking his watch and pulling Aurora out of the room with him, shouting about how it takes time to look good and that he hopes everyone enjoys the show.

“You know, that first night in Basel, I recognized your nerves the second they hit you,” Aurora begins as she watches Harry button up his black shirt. He turns around to face her, the long fabric hanging from the collar reminiscent of that first night she helped him get ready. “You got really quiet, really fast,” she continues as she starts to loop the fabric into a bow, “and even though in the end I helped, I was panicking inside. It was the first night, I barely knew you, I was just trying to do my job, but then,” she sighs when she’s happy with the look of the bow, “then I realised, in that exact moment, that maybe I had more to offer for you, that calming your nerves, minutes before you got on stage in front of thousands of people, was something I could help with.” Aurora grabs the cream Gucci jacket from the hanger. “Something I knew about, something we could level on.”

After Harry slides both arms into his jacket he turns around to Aurora. “I wasn’t used to having someone there with me, to help me, no one really ever noticed when I got nervous.”

“I hope you know that I’ll always be there, be here, for you,” she adds as she buttons his jacket closed. “I think, that was the moment, even though I didn’t really figure it out till now, that you were more than just this big rockstar that sauntered around the stage in his custom Gucci wardrobe to me, that there was something more there.”

Harry huffs as his hands rub up and down Aurora’s arms. There’s a sparkle in his eye that was there a second ago, a sparkle that turns into a welled up tear in his waterline. He blinks it away. He smiles at her and Aurora carefully pulls him into her, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, careful not to mess with his hair or the perfectly steamed suit.

“You good?”

“Always good when you’re around,” Harry says, his voice soft as it gets lost in Aurora’s hair.

The hallways to the stage entrance are loud and the energy hasn’t changed all day. Everyone is excited and their shouting their “good luck’s” and “break a leg’s” at Harry as he passes by. Aurora follows behind him and his band with Helene by her side. Mitch wraps his arm around Sarah’s waist and Helene snaps the moment. Everyone’s buzzing but Aurora keeps an eye on Harry a few feet in front of her. Harry holds open one of the double doors that has a sign that says “Stage Entrance” taped on it. Helene walks through last before Harry takes Aurora’s hand and ushers her in before he walks through too, the door shutting quietly behind them.

His band finds their place on stage and Helene heads to the audience. Harry squeezes Aurora’s hand one last time and then kisses her temple as the opening track begins.

“Just be careful in those flares, they’re a tripping hazard,” Aurora yells, with a laugh, up to Harry as he takes the metal steps 2 at a time.

Aurora doesn’t waste any time getting to the audience and finding her parents in the mix at the back of the pit. She gives them both a quick hug just as Alex’s voice comes over the speakers.

Should we just search romantic comedies on Netflix and see what we find?

When the screen rises and Harry begins to come into view, gasps fill the pit along with screams as the giant flares come into view. Aurora doesn’t miss the chest heightening breath Harry takes before letting out a shaky breath through pursed lips, his shoulders dropping back to their relaxed height. The second the crash of Only Angel hits, Harry’s totally and completely carefree. Aurora turns to see her parents' reaction from their spot next to her. The surprise in their eyes in the abrupt change in music makes Aurora laugh. The surprise turns to amazement when the entire audience is singing along.

When Harry makes his way back to the mainstage after Sweet Creature, Aurora’s mom turns to her. “I understood why you loved him before, but now I really understand.” It makes Aurora giggle and blush a bit.

| | | | |

Aurora’s sitting in the empty audience, 3 rows behind the pit, her sneaker clad feet resting on the chair in front of her. She’s tired, exhausted. Between her parents being in the city, a handful of random friends trying to see her, Harry’s friends and family everywhere, a secretly nervous Harry, and a job to do, she’s managing a lot right now. But right now, in this moment and for the next few minutes she gets to sit, drink her iced latte and not care that she’s wearing her last clean pair of leggings and one of Harry’s random t-shirts. She’s got nowhere to be, no one to entertain, no job to do.

A newly familiar intro begins and Aurora can’t help but laugh a little at Harry in his tall white socks, Adidas sneakers, black workout shorts and his rainbow TPWK tshirt. She’s used to seeing Harry dressed like this, but not while he’s on a stage, while he’s singing and playing his guitar, his vocals echoing more than normal through the empty arena. It’s barely 10am and Harry and Kacey’s voices aren’t where they will be when they perform this special duet later tonight, but Aurora enjoys moments like this. They sing through the chorus a handful of times, making a few harmony changes and in between each run, Adam’s kids cheer from the floor right in front of the stage.

Aurora can see the dark circles under Harry’s eyes from where she’s sitting but doubt anyone else notices them. She helped him manage his nerves leading up to last night’s show and his solo debut on the MSG stage went off without a hitch but a wave of emotions took over once they had both left the arena. Aurora could tell something was off with Harry. Once they closed the door to their bedroom for their time in New York, Harry sunk to the bed, his arm over his face. His chest heaved quickly before a slow, shaky breath was released.

“Hey,” Aurora said softly, sitting down on the mattress next to him. She reached for the arm covering his face. “You okay?” she asks, confused. He had been totally fine all evening, no sign of anything bothering him, no disappointment from the night, nothing. She’s caught off guard.

“Not really sure why this is happening,” he says, his voice shaky. Aurora lets her hand rest against his chest, her thumb moving softly back and forth in a soothing manner. She can see his face now, but his eyes stay closed. She watches tears build up on his eyelashes, but gives him a moment and doesn’t say anything. Harry eventually lets out a heavy breath through his nose, his hands take the one that is resting on his chest. He brings her hand to his face and kisses her palm softly. “Just a lot happened today, I guess,” he says in the end.

“You guess?” Aurora says in disbelief. “A lot did happen today and you can come down and react to it in any way you need.” Harry hums, lets go of her hand and reaches out to her.

“Will you lay here with me for a second?” He asks in a soft voice.

“Whatever you need,” Aurora responds as she lays down next to him and fits herself into his side. “I’m proud of you.”

“Please, Ror,” Harry whispers.

“No, I’m gonna tell you. I’m proud of you. Tonight was incredible. You should be proud of yourself.”

“I am.”

“Good.”

And even though he was happy and proud of himself he still continued to let tears fall from his eyes. Exhaustion from the nerves, the empty place in his heart where Robin lived because he kept dwelling on the idea of him being in the audience to see what he did, the toll touring in general takes on his body, the added stress of Aurora’s parents. Aurora whispered about the amazing moments during the show and repeatedly told him how much she loved him as she ran her fingers through his hair until he eventually fell asleep.

So the dark circles are there for a reason and nobody else notices or needs to know why. Harry wanted one last rehearsal with Kacey before sound check later and wanted to be able to relax (as best as he could) for the majority of the day. And relaxing and having fun is what he had on the agenda for the afternoon. A few more cups of coffee and he would be ready for the official Harry Styles World Tour Table Tournament. When they walked into MSG the tables were already being set up, official leaderboards being hung on rolling whiteboards and a shiny, engraved trophy on display nearby.

Aurora is off the leaderboard faster than the competition even started. She doesn’t even make it far enough to play against Harry. He’s a pro at this point. Table Tennis is a weird niche tour sport Aurora thinks. Harry loves it, plays it everyday, almost and Aurora teases him about him being the best because it’s the only thing he’s done as consistently as touring and performing. 8 years of table tennis under his belt has leant him the skills. She thinks he shouldn’t be allowed to compete today. Even 4 months of touring for Aurora and she can’t get the hang of it, so she watches from the side, laughs with the group and watches the dark circles disappear from under Harry’s eyes.

With no surprise, Harry wins the tourney. Literally no one in all of New York City is surprised but they still cheer for him when he scores his winning point and then everyone is crowding around him, giving him high fives and slaps on the back -- there isn’t a single trace of a dark circle under his eyes now. Aurora knows that for a fact when she gets a good look at him up close when he picks her up off the ground in a hug while still cheering.

A few hours later Aurora is standing in her usual spot in the dressing room with the steamer heating up nearby and the large wardrobe case open in front of her. She smiles when she reaches for tonight's suit. A turquoise version of the golden Calvin Klein suit he wore back in Australia.

“You coming out with us, tonight?” Harry asks Aurora from where he’s sitting in Ayae’s chair as she messes with his hair.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Aurora questions back, confused.

“Well, ya used to decline my invites all the time,” Harry says matter of factly.

“That was before and anyways when was the last time I turned you down?”

“Harry, leave the poor girl alone,” Ayae pipes in. “She already deals with you enough as it is.”

Aurora and Ayae laugh together as Harry whines about being teased. Aurora’s thankful for the ease of the evening, the disappearance of Harry’s nerves and exhaustion. Aurora’s parents are gone and though it was an easy few days for the most part, there’s still a wash of relief over the couple.

Once Ayae is done with Harry she wishes him good luck and then goes to find Mitch and Adam.

“So you’re coming with tonight?”

“Harry, of course I am,” Aurora says with a roll of her eyes. “Gotta celebrate, right?”

Harry just smiles and kisses the top of Aurora’s cheek before he takes his trousers from her hand. Aurora takes the now well known and iconic TPWK tank (just as she predicted) from the hanger and passes it to Harry. And then, just like every night of tour, she holds his jacket by the collar and Harry turns his back to her and slides one arm, then the other, into the sleeves. Aurora pulls as the shoulder seams, making sure they’re sitting just right before he turns around to face her. His eyes don’t leave her face as she makes a few minute adjustments to the collar before she buttons it close. Aurora doesn’t drop her hands right away, she takes a moment, the familiar spot comfortable and Harry takes the opportunity to rest his forehead against hers. A small moment between just the 2 of them calms the recurring nerves in Harry’s chest. Harry pulls away after a moment, a squeeze to Aurora’s hip before he does. No words are needed but miles upon miles of thoughts are shared between them in that moment. Aurora gives him a smile as he disappears into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

Aurora slips out of her sneakers and pulls her heels out of her bag. Final night of MSG feels like the perfect occasion to dress up a bit more. She touches up her red lipstick before Harry’s back. He stops in his tracks in the door as if he didn’t notice her fully just minutes ago when she was helping him into his suit.

“Wow,” he says now “Ror.” He shakes his head and then walks over to her. He plays with the flimsy fabric at the hem of her tank, then his hands grip at her waist. His calloused fingertips find the skin at the top of her black jeans, underneath the tank and he rubs small circles at the plushy skin of her waist. “You look really pretty, Rory,” he almost whispers.

And just like any moment they have before a show, they’re interrupted by someone calling Harry’s name from the hallway. They groan in unison.

“Where are you gonna watch from?”

“You’ll have to find me.”

Harry finds her in the audience with ease and his signature smirk appears when he does at the beginning of Ever Since New York. It's at this moment Aurora thinks about the importance of New York.

I’ve been praying, ever since New York

This song had been written before they had met, about something totally unrelated but New York holds this cloud of memories, some strong enough that he had to put into a song, a song he plays every single night. This week will be added to the cloud of memories in New York and with Aurora moving back to the city come the end of tour, she’s sure they’ll create more here too.

The audience erupts in screams when Harry brings out Kacey to sing with him. “You’re Still The One” begins and Aurora remembers the first time she ever heard this song. Too little to remember it all perfectly but she still remembers her mom singing it in the kitchen while baking cookies and little Aurora being entranced by the music, her mother carefree, hair tied up in a bun while she sang it to Aurora.

When Harry played the short list of songs he was considering, Aurora put her vote on this track and Kacey loved it just as much. Now, as the song plays and Kacey sings along with Harry, the majority of the audience is singing along too. Harry can’t help but smile from time to time and it sparkles like Kacey’s rainbow dress.

At another point in the show, Harry makes a scene in front of his band and shows off his Table Tennis tourney trophy.

There are moments like this sprinkled throughout the show. Harry fully carefree, enjoying his time and the audience equally having the time of their lives.

During Medicine, his mic cord gets caught but it doesn’t take away from the impeccable performance of the unreleased song, it only adds to it.

As he walks down the alley between the pits, he collects handfuls of bouquets on his way to the B stage. Harry finds Aurora quickly, a huge smile on his face and then tosses the bouquets at her in the mix.

Aurora doesn’t miss the shakiness of his voice during Sweet Creature and from her spot in the mix, she can see him perfectly. His head tilts up to the 300 level seats during the instrumental and he takes in a short breath before blowing out a breath through pursed lips, trying to hold back tears. It’s the sight in front of him, the emotion of the song, the reminder that he’s performing for the 2nd night for a sold out MSG that gets to him.

Harry answers a fan’s question at one point, about what his favourite Britney Spears song is. Toxic, of course. And Aurora laughs as the audience erupts in a chant of “Sing It!” to which Harry responds, without surprise to Aurora, a simple, “no.”

The energy in the room is something she’ll never be able to describe in a million years. There’s never a lull, never a dip, never once anything Harry does receive less than an ear deafening scream.

The ground shakes during “Kiwi” and Harry makes the crowd scream the New York line back to him. It’s a moment where the entire audience has one goal and they achieve it, following through with Harry’s request to let go and be whoever they want to be.

The energy doesn’t stop when he leaves the stage. The ringing is louder than normal in Aurora’s ears but she doesn’t care and the red lipped smile on her face stretches from ear to ear. Harry doesn’t care about the lingering print of red lipstick on his face when Aurora kisses his check the second he pulls her into a hug. He keeps her close while people come up to congratulate him & rave over the show.

They make it to his dressing room almost an hour later & Harry collapses to the couch right away. Aurora sits down next to him & Harry pulls her in close to him. He doesn’t take long to get his lips on hers, but there isn’t an urgency in the kisses. The kisses are slow & deep & almost pondering like he isn’t sure where he wants this to go right now.

Aurora takes it upon herself to start pushing his jacket off his shoulders to get her hands on more of his skin. It doesn’t go much further. The kisses slow down to a stop & they just sit there for a moment, both knowing that if they don’t actually stop now they will run into someone interrupting them.

They go through the post show routine as usual. Harry’s sweaty suit gets hung up to dry & Harry jumps into the shower while Aurora puts everything away. She praises him over & over about different parts of the show as he messes with his wet curls & changes into clean clothes. A blush repeatedly rises to his checks & he resorts to getting her to stop fawning over his show by kissing her against the dressing room door.

“Come ‘ere, Angel,” Harry says as he offers an open arm to her, “need my girl by my side at all times.” He’s got one hip popped out slightly and a hand on his pool stick.

“Was getting you another drink, rockstar,” She says as she hands him a fresh Old Fashion, his drink of choice for the evening. Harry presses a kiss to the top of Aurora’s head as he takes the glass from her hand.

The game of pool has been put on pause as one of Harry’s friends reads Rob Sheffield's Rolling Stones article about MSG night 1 as loud as he can. There’s hoots and hollers every so often from the group they’re with in reaction to some of the comments Rob has written.

That’s confidence. That’s cheek. That’s arrogance. That’s a rockstar.

Bowie-glam raunchfest Kiwi.

His generous spirit was contagious all night. Shine on, you crazy diamond.

Harry doesn’t let Rory leave his side most of the night. He even takes the opportunity to show her how to properly use the pool stick in the most cliché romcom way. Aurora doesn’t shy away though, she only encourages it more every time.

They seem to be sharing every single feeling tonight, warmth, excitement, release of stress, love, & they can’t get enough of each other.

It’s nearly 3am when Harry’s twirling Aurora around in circles in the almost empty basement of the bar. The group has thinned out but neither of them are paying much attention to what’s happening around them. Aurora’s cheeks hurt from the sheer length of time she’s been smiling at Harry. His tortoise rimmed reading glasses seem to appear out of nowhere & his dimples haven’t gone away in hours. As Aurora adjusts her grip on Harry’s shoulders & the small bit of sweat through the rainbow Kacey Musgraves T-shirt he’s wearing doesn’t bother her.

One last turn in the middle of the open floor has Aurora dizzy & stumbling over her feet & then Harry’s. Harry grips at Aurora’s waist a bit tighter as he steadies her. He lands a sloppy kiss on her lips before guiding both of them to sit at the nearby booth. Aurora swings her legs onto Harry’s lap with the only goal to get closer to Harry in mind.

In this small basement of a bar in New York, with his Rory all over him, Harry is sure that this is where he’s supposed to be.

comments & feedback ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS welcome & appreciated !!!

#harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #sequins & zippers #aurora on tour #harry styles fanfiction #one direction imagine

81 notes · View notes

oliverstarked · 4 years

Text

didn’t mean to let you go

a Buck/Eddie 3.06 coda, that starts with breakfast with Bobby

Summary: Buck moves up, brushes the back of his fingers over the swelling on Eddie’s jaw. Eddie inhales softly.

“It looks painful,” Buck mutters.

“It’s not so bad,” Eddie says, just as quiet.

read on ao3

Buck talks and talks and talks during breakfast with Bobby. He tries not to, he knows he can be A Lot, but Bobby sits there with his mouth quirked up in an affectionate smile and he listens and listens and listens, and asks questions, and is more of a father-figure in that moment than Buck has ever had in his life.

So he tells Bobby about the nightmares, about the loneliness, about not being able to get out of bed some days. He tells Bobby about his childhood — just a little bit, he doesn’t really mean to — and when Bobby says, “You’re more than the sum of your parents’ choices, Buck,” it’s all Buck can do not to launch himself over the table and wrap Bobby up in a hug.

It’s a good morning, even though it started in the hospital. Buck is starting to feel like himself again, the pieces of him that had been drifting away beginning to slot back into place where they belong. But there’s still something niggling at him that he needs to fix before life can truly go back to normal — whatever normal even means.

Buck gets into his Jeep and swings out of the diner parking lot into the usual snarl of LA traffic. It’s early enough that rush hour isn’t in full swing yet, but it still takes an annoyingly long time to get across the city to Eddie’s place. By the time he arrives, the sun is pounding on his face through the windshield and he’s starting to sweat. Why did he have to pick a gray shirt, goddamnit.

“Buck!”

Christopher is standing just outside the house, school bag on his back and massive smile on his face. Something inside Buck nearly crumbles in relief. He’d thought maybe Chris would be mad at him, disappointed that someone he’d trusted had let him down. Yet there he is, grin on his face like there’s no one else he’d rather see at eight in the morning. Buck doesn’t know what he did to deserve that kid’s affection, but he’s never gonna do anything to jeopardize it ever again.

“Hey, little man!”

The hug he receives is nothing short of perfect, even if he gets a crutch to the shin for his trouble. God, he’s missed this.

“Buck, what are you doing here?”

Eddie looks confused, but it’s the fresh bruise along his unshaven jaw and exhaustion ringing his eyes that grabs Buck’s attention. He thinks about the pained way Eddie pulled away from him the night before and swallows the million questions he has. Whatever discussion they need to have will have to wait until Chris isn’t around to hear it.

“It’s our day off, thought I’d come see the Diaz boys,” he grins.

Eddie steps further out of his house, pulling the door closed behind him. He’s got his keys in one hand, a travel mug in the other, and Chris’ gym kit slung over his shoulder.

“Yeah, well, one of these Diaz boys has school.”

Chris puts his hand on Buck’s leg and looks up at him with those big puppy eyes. “Will you come with us, Buck?”

Buck glances at Eddie, who just shrugs, so he says, “Sure. Why don’t I drive? Your dad can drink his coffee and you and me can talk Transformers.”

Eddie remains quiet for the twenty minutes it takes to get to Chris’ school. He’s not hostile or mad, but he looks resigned, like he knows Buck wants a Conversation and knows there’s no more putting it off. Sure, he’s chipper as hell when he says goodbye to Christopher, but the minute he and Buck are alone together in the car he sinks into the seat, eyes closed as he tips his head back. The bruise on his face is a sickly shade of purple.

“So, I had a bit of a night,” Buck says brightly, because he’s not gonna ask Eddie what’s going on while he’s driving. “This lady hit a guy with her car two days ago and had no idea she was driving around with him sticking outta her windshield. The hospital said she had a brain bleed and it confused her? Anyway, he’s still alive. Thanks to me.”

He winks, playing it up, and Eddie smiles. “Yeah?”

“Uh huh. And the driver.” He should shut up, but Eddie’s still looking at him with that soft, quiet look on his face, and it makes Buck keep talking. “Y’know, I always thought it was the uniform that made me the guy who’ll crawl over broken glass, literally, to help people. To make a difference. But, I dunno man, I think I’m starting to realize that it’s just who I am, uniform or no. When Bobby came to get me from the hospital, he said—”

“Wait, you were at the hospital? Last night?” Eddie looks stricken and it makes Buck’s breath catch in his throat.

“Uh, yeah. Kinda.” He shows Eddie the bandage on his arm. “I got scratched on the broken windshield. It’s nothing, I swear. The paramedics wanted me to get checked because of, y’know, my history. Honestly, Ed, I’m fine.”

Eddie scrapes a hand over his face. “You should’ve called me.”

“Would you have answered?”

“Of course.” But even as he says it, Eddie doesn’t sound like he believes the words.

This time Buck doesn’t say anything. He just drives, glancing over at Eddie every so often. Each time he does, Eddie looks back. Like they’re attuned to each other. They definitely used to be, before Buck went and messed it up. Now it’s time to sort it out.

But when they get back to Eddie’s, Buck decides he’s gotta pick the right moment. He really doesn’t want to fight again, and Eddie’s looking pretty pathetic anyway, slumped at his kitchen table with his head in his hands.

“Have you eaten breakfast?” Buck asks, already pulling open the cupboards.

“Cereal,” Eddie replies, gesturing blindly to the empty bowls left in the sink and the box of Cap’n Crunch on the counter.

Buck snorts. “Yeah, okay. I’m gonna make you a proper breakfast. Go shower, I’ll have it ready by the time you’re done.”

Eddie huffs, looking up and raising his eyebrows. “Is that a not-so-subtle hint?”

“No, man, you just look like you could do with taking a load off for a few. A shower will make you feel better.”

It’s the closest they’ve come to actually discussing the fact that there’s something wrong with Eddie, but he doesn’t rise to it. Just takes Buck’s advice and trudges down the hall, disappearing into his bedroom.

Buck heaves out a breath and sets about making one of Bobby’s specialities: the perfect French omelet. He’s gonna have to improvise a little with the filling based on the sparse contents of Eddie’s refrigerator but he finds spinach, mushrooms and cheese, so it could be worse.

When Eddie comes back, dressed in dark jeans and a henley, Buck is just setting two plates piled high with omelet on the table. So what that a couple of hours ago he ate his weight in pancakes with Bobby? He’s always got room for more.

“You cleaned up in here,” Eddie comments, “and dios, it smells amazing.”

“You’re welcome,” Buck smiles, and refrains from pulling Eddie’s chair out for him like he would a date at a restaurant. Instead he sits across from Eddie and raises his glass of OJ. “Here’s to you forgiving me, and to us being friends again.”

Eddie clinks his glass against Buck’s, but does so with a roll of his eyes. “We were never not friends, Buck. It was killing me that I couldn’t talk to you.”

A memory floats to the surface of Buck’s brain, something Eddie said that time in the grocery store, that makes him say, “Yeah, talk to me and to, what was it? Oh yeah, ask me to bail you out of jail. Hypothetically, right?”

Oh yeah, that hit a nerve. Eddie slowly chews and swallows his mouthful of egg, but his eyes go shuttered and Buck knows that this is it, no more lies.

“Not so much, actually,” Eddie admits, and when he looks back up Buck is shocked to see that his eyes are wet. “Buck, I think I’m in trouble.”

It’s not a surprise. Neither is the way every fiber of Buck’s being wants to get out of his chair and gather Eddie into his arms, hold him close and promise him that everything is gonna be okay. Except he won’t, though. He doesn’t know if it will be okay, and it sounds like he’s gonna have to be the grown up one in this situation.

“Okay,” he says, nodding his head. “Tell me.”

To his credit, Eddie looks Buck right in the eye when he says, “I’ve been street fighting. For money.”

Nausea fills the pit of Buck’s stomach. Images fill his head unbidden of Eddie getting pummelled by some great ugly brute with no teeth. With no one there to support him, patch him up afterwards and make sure he’s okay.

“Jesus, Eddie. And I thought I was supposed to be the stupid one.”

Eddie hangs his head. “Yeah, well.”

“I mean, what were you thinking?” Buck bursts out. “You could have been seriously hurt, man, or worse. You’ve got people here who need you, Eddie. Chris needs you.” He pauses, swallows. “I need you.”

The chair skids back with a screech as Eddie jumps to his feet. “Don’t you think I know that? I can’t help it, Buck! I’m just so — so angry, all the fucking time. At everyone! Shannon — she died. She told me she wanted a divorce, and then she fucking died. That’s my fault, if I hadn’t brought her back into our lives only to turn around and change my mind, she wouldn’t have even been on that road to get hit by that car! Chris has lost his mom for good, because I was so goddamn selfish. And then you — and your leg — and I know how hard your recovery was so I wasn’t gonna make it about me and my issues. And the tsunami just — dios, I still have nightmares about losing Christopher. About losing you. Except then I did lose you to that stupid stupid lawsuit, and I just needed to punch something so badly.”

He stops, shakes his head, sucks in a shuddering breath. Buck can’t even move, doesn’t even know what to say.

“It wasn’t supposed to go this far, Buck,” Eddie finishes, voice nearly a whisper. “It’s the only thing that made me feel in control. Please help me make it stop.”

Buck looks at Eddie, really looks at him. His brown eyes are sad and awful. So Buck gets up out of his chair and in three strides he’s right there in front of him, his hands on Eddie’s biceps, reaching out to pull him in and curling his own arms firm around Eddie’s broad shoulders, like a protective band around him.

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. You were right, last night. I was too focused on myself to see that you were hurting.”

“No,” Eddie says. He makes to pull back, but Buck refuses to let go so Eddie just talks into his shoulder instead. “You went through a lot—”

“We all went through a lot,” Buck corrects him gently. “And none of it, none of it, was your fault, Eddie Diaz.”

Eddie’s arms come up around Buck’s waist, slowly squeezing back. Buck scrunches his eyes shut so he doesn’t do something stupid like cry. He doesn’t know how long they stand there like that, Eddie’s hot breath fanning against the side of his neck, wrapped around each other so tightly, breakfast long forgotten on the table, but when they finally disentangle Eddie’s face is dry although his eyes look red and sore.

“No more fighting,” Buck tells him, no room for argument. “We’ll go in the boxing ring, I’ll hold a punching bag for you, I’ll take you to the rage room, whatever. If you need help with money, I got you covered. If you wake up in the middle of the night and wanna talk, you call me. You want me to come to therapy with you, I’m there. But fight club is done.”

For a second, Buck thinks Eddie is gonna argue. But then he sags, his shoulders falling, and nods.

“I’m not gonna feel better until I’ve checked you over,” Buck adds then, concerned about injuries he can’t see.

Eddie rolls his eyes to the heavens, so much like his usual self Buck nearly laughs in relief. “Buck, I’m fine. I’m a medic. I know this to be true.”

“Please,” Buck begs, because he needs to see for himself, needs proof.

Sighing, and looking extremely reluctant about it, Eddie plucks at the bottom of his henley and peels it off over his head.

Ugly smudges of blue, purple and yellow marr the landscape of Eddie’s torso like stormclouds. His ribs look awful, half-healed and scabbed over where the skin has been split from the sheer force of the beating. Buck places his hand gently over the worst of it, feels Eddie’s ribcage expand under his palm.

“Not broken,” Eddie whispers. “Just bruised.”

Buck moves up, brushes the back of his fingers over the swelling on Eddie’s jaw. Eddie inhales softly.

“It looks painful,” Buck mutters.

“It’s not so bad,” Eddie says, just as quiet.

Despite popular belief, Buck’s not actually an idiot. He knows what’s happening here. His feelings for Eddie are an ever-present feature of Buck’s everyday, always just under the surface, bubbling up every time they share a look or a touch, however innocent. Right now Buck feels like they’re boiling over, faced with miles and miles of Eddie’s soap-clean skin and those eyes staring right at him and the emotional vulnerability that has left them both a bit raw.

When Eddie’s tongue darts out to lick his lips, Buck thinks he might actually combust.

“Te he extrañado,” Eddie breathes, “I missed you.”

And that’s it, he can’t take it anymore. Buck swoops forward and presses his mouth to Eddie’s in a kiss that’s not gentle at all, but demanding and desperate and so, so good.

It gets even better when Eddie tongue traces the seam of Buck’s lips — it gets hot and fierce then, wet and open-mouthed. Buck’s hands are on Eddie’s face, cradling his jaw, but Eddie’s hands can’t seem to decide what to touch first: first Buck’s waist, then up his chest, over his shoulders, smoothing down his back until they settle on his waistband.

“I always thought —” Buck murmurs, lush against Eddie’s mouth, “that it was — it was just me who — God, Eddie.”

Eddie slides his fingers around Buck’s belt to the front, easily slipping the leather through the buckle.

“There was never a good time,” Eddie says, kissing him again and sucking lightly on Buck’s bottom lip, like his fingers aren’t unbuttoning Buck’s fly and driving him absolutely fucking crazy. It’s not fair that he can string sentences together when Buck’s feeling so deliriously drunk on this already.

Then he remembers that hey, he’s good at this. Eddie is far from the first guy he’s been with, although he is the first in a while, and he knows sex. Knows all the best knee-trembling, breath-taking, shiver-inducing moves. Part of him can’t believe that he gets to do them all with Eddie, but he sure as hell isn’t going to stop now.

Buck presses kisses down Eddie’s neck, stubble burning his lips in the best way. He can’t resist leaving a hickey on his collarbone, more on his chest, scattered among the bruises there.

“Buck…” Eddie groans, his hands fisting in Buck’s hair now, not-so-subtly trying to guide him lower.

Smirking against his skin, Buck heads back up instead, nipping Eddie’s ear as he whispers, “If you weren’t injured, we’d be on this kitchen floor and I’d be sucking your brain out through your dick.”

Eddie’s hips jerk into Buck’s and Buck can feel quite clearly just how much that idea appeals.

“But you are injured, so we’re gonna take this somewhere a bit softer,” he adds, grabbing Eddie’s hand and dragging him into his own bedroom. Eddie’s grip is tight but sweaty, and Buck’s glad that he’s not the only one feeling slightly overwhelmed here. For all his blustering and confidence, the fact that this is Eddie means it’s important. Possibly the most important thing Buck has ever done. He really, really hopes this isn’t going to be a one-time thing.

As soon as they’re in the bedroom, Eddie pulls Buck’s t-shirt up and over his head before pushing him down on the bed. Grinning when he bounces, Buck sits on the edge and yanks Eddie in by the hips, making quick work of his fly and yanking his jeans and boxers down his thighs.

Eddie is so hard already, so wet that Buck can’t help but take him into his mouth. He sucks, kisses and licks until Eddie is gasping for breath and pushing him away.

“Too much?” Buck pants, laying on his back and bringing Eddie down with him.

“Not enough,” Eddie says, kissing him again like he can’t get enough of Buck’s mouth. The weight of his body pressing Buck down into the mattress feels so good that Buck can’t help bumping his hips up, only to be impeded by his own goddamn pants. Desperate, he tries to wriggle his way out of them until Eddie takes pity and tugs them over his ankles.

“You’re kind of a dork,” Eddie laughs, kissing the smooth skin of Buck’s inner thighs, the vibrations doing things to him.

“Fuck you,” Buck retorts, breathless. “I’m a goddamn sex machine.”

“Okay,” Eddie agrees, too easy, and Buck yanks him back up to crush their mouths together again. Now that he’s started kissing Eddie, he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to be able to stop. He prays to a God that he doesn’t really believe in that he won’t ever have to.

Buck’s had a couple of near-death experiences, but right here with Eddie on top of him, rolling their hips together, his legs wrapped tight around Eddie’s waist? Definitely the closest to heaven he’s ever been.

He pushes up every time Eddie pushes down, fingers roaming over Eddie’s back, feeling the muscles ripple each time he shoves against Buck. Eddie moves one of his arms from where it’s braced beside Buck’s head and uses his hand to grip both their dicks together, and that’s when it gets hot and fast and intense, and kissing becomes nothing more than panting against each other’s mouths, and Buck tenses and finally comes undone, unspooling like a livewire, sparks firing under his skin, leaving him unable to do much more than keep his grip on Eddie’s shoulderblades and hang on while he rides it out.

Eddie is swearing fiercely in Spanish, losing his rhythm, but he drags his hand through the mess on Buck’s stomach and wraps that hand around his own dick, the image of which is so unreasonably hot that Buck groans and shudders.

“Yeah, c’mon, baby,” he blurts out, “come on me, mark me up, make me yours.”

“Dios, Buck, fuck,” Eddie grits out, hips stuttering, and then he comes with a drawn-out moan, only making Buck dirtier, and God does Buck love it. Love him.

They kiss again as they come back down to earth, softer now, slower. Buck’s mouth keeps doing this thing where he can’t stop smiling, until Eddie catches it too, and then they’re laughing. Eddie collapses into the space next to Buck, and he feels cold now where their skin isn’t touching. He reaches over the edge of the bed and comes back with his shirt which he uses to wipe his stomach before throwing blindly back to the floor.

“So…” Eddie starts, tipping his head to look at Buck.

Buck just grins at him. “Told you I was a sex machine.”

Eddie glares at him without any heat in it, then rolls onto his side and rests his palm over Buck’s chest. His face gets serious and for a heartbeat Buck thinks he’s about to be kicked out of bed.

But, “I want you to know this wasn’t some sort of… gratitude thing,” Eddie says, “Or — or another outlet for my anger. That meant — you mean — a whole lot to me, Evan Buckley. And if this is going to jeopardize our friendship then—”

“Hey,” Buck interrupts, grabbing onto Eddie’s hand and clutching at it. “In case you couldn’t tell from everything I’ve said today: I love you, you idiot.”

A huge smile breaks out on Eddie’s face and Buck can’t help but mirror it, reeling Eddie back in. They make out like teenagers until their lips go numb and kiss-swollen.

They only stop when Eddie’s stomach grumbles, reminding them both that he never did finish his breakfast.

“C’mon, shower and then brunch,” Buck decides, running his hand over Eddie’s side and down to his ass, where he squeezes. “What d’ya reckon old man, ready for round two? Shower sex, easy clean up?”

“Not if you’re gonna call me old,” retorts Eddie, and he jumps out of bed like he doesn’t have several bruised ribs, as if to prove a point. “You coming, or shall I start without you?”

Buck might give his right arm to see that, but right now he just wants to be pressed as close to Eddie as possible, to make sure nothing hurts him ever again.

There’ll be time for everything else later.

#911 fanfic #buck x eddie #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 fox #*fic

140 notes · View notes

lacheri · 3 years

Note

congrats on 200 !! I was hoping you could write something small for me haha so here’s my info:

My personality type is intj or istj I’ve gotten both before and my enneagram is 6w5. I’m an Aries sun Sagittarius moon and Libra rising. My chosen s/o is Jean Kirstein. My perfered pronouns are she/her. I’m introverted around most people but pretty outgoing with people I’m close with. I love giving gifts to the people I love because I love seeing their reactions. Also although I’m super polite to people I don’t know I kinda love to tease the people I’m close to not anything mean just making jokes. As for my hobbies I like reading I’m just a super slow reader and I’m also into video editing. Some stuff that makes me happy are spicy food, the smell of clean laundry, and my melatonin sleepy gummies 😌. My physical description: I’m 18 yrs old I have brown curly hair and brown eyes. I’m pretty tan. I’m also kinda chubby and 5’5 in height. NSFW info: I personally don’t like degrading or any kind of whips/bondage stuff. I do like to use toys on other people though such as viberators or dildos. I hope I understood your rules correctly when you said check requests but I wouldn’t mind you writing headcannons or a small Drabble depending on the tarot card you pick out. :)

I...literally want to be your friend?? I love the combo of aries sun/sag moon/libra rising, you're the best person to have a giggle with <3 (me and my aries bestfriend used to get drunk and dance to this song in high school so it's an aries anthem for me)

The Fool: this card and the zodiac sign Aries are very much so equals in my mind (the card for Aries is the Emperor). the Fool is card zero, representing infinity and the promise of a new journey. Aries is the first sign of the zodiac, and both these compare in child like wonder and spirit. the man in the card stands on the edge of the cliff with his belongings, head towards the sky, unknowing that he is about to walk off the ledge. the rose he holds represents purity and innocence, the dog his companion, the sun shining down on a cloudless day. I personally love when this card comes out in a reading, it reminds us that it’s okay to indulge in the childish parts of ourselves. not everything is meant to be taken so seriously. it’s okay to have fun without thinking of the future.

anna sun - walk the moon. "Live my life without coming up for air, now it's all I want. I want everyone racing down the hill, I am faster than you. Wait for summertime."

“Jean, you’ve been DJ this entire ride!”

“I have great taste in music, thank you very much!”

You pouted in the passenger seat, arms crossing over your chest, the soft hum of music playing from the radio as you spoke, “Where are we even going anyways?”

“An adventure, obviously,” his honey brown eyes flickered to you, a coy smile on his lips. “Wouldn’t be much fun if I told you.”

“Some best friend you are,” you grumbled, slouching back into the leather of your seat.

The sun had long rid itself of its presence, the moon replacing its position high in the sky. It was a particularly bright night as Jean drove his car down an empty highway, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the top of your thigh. You had been in the middle of reading your favorite novel, sweatpants on with your hair tied up, when you had heard soft thumps against your window. You had sighed, dog earring your page, and trotted over to your window sill, throwing it open.

Jean had a handful of rocks and a silly toothy grin on his face, calling out that he was going to kidnap you whether you liked it or not. You had simply rolled your eyes, trying hard to conceal your smile and ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and soon enough you were in the passenger seat of his car.

Glancing at the dashboard, the clock read one o’clock in the morning. You would’ve been wide awake reading regardless, but still, you had to admit it was quite late. Jean seemed completely content as he hummed along to whatever song was playing, fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he stared straight ahead. He threw on his blinker, taking an exit you didn’t care to read the sign to. Trees surrounded you on either side, blocking out any moonlight, and the lack of streetlamps was slightly concerning.

Jean had swerved onto a dirt road then, and you couldn’t help but tease, “Are you taking me out in the woods to kill me or something?”

“Yup, this all my master plan,” he smirked back, slowing down over holes in the road and navigating around fallen tree branches. “I’ve had enough of your smart mouth, time for revenge.”

“Yeah right,” you scoffed, placing your hand over his subtly. “You wouldn’t be able to survive without me.”

“Probably not,” Jean mumbled, his eyes widening. “Oh! We’re almost there!”

Headlights illuminated the sparkle of a shoreline, your eyebrows furrowed upon your arrival. There were no beaches around you, were there? Your eyes scanned as much as you could, and it dawned on you that Jean had taken you to, a lake?

“I found it randomly one day with Connie, it’s not on any of the maps or gps,” Jean began to unbuckle his seatbelt, gesturing for you to follow along with his hands. “C’mon, we’re going swimming!”

“Swimming?” you deadpanned, hands frozen on your unbuckled seat belt. “Jean, absolutely fucking not. It’s freezing!”

He rolled his eyes, “Fine, we’re not going swimming. It was worth a try though. But my real reason is less cool, I just wanted to hang out.”

“Just us?” you couldn’t help but ask nervously, hand on the door handle.

“Yeah,” Jean smiled boyishly, fumbling with the radio, sliding out of the driver’s side shortly after. “Just the two of us, baby.”

You let out a nervous giggle, feeling the onset of your heart pounding in your chest. With a quick gesture, you were out of the car, Jean circling around the front to meet you. His phone was in his hand, thumbs tapping quickly away. Suddenly, the mellow sound of smooth music began to play from the speakers, flowing from the opened windows.

Jean put his phone in his back pocket of his jeans, meeting your gaze with a soft smile with an extended palm, “Wanna’ dance?”

You blinked a few times, feeling heat crawl up your cheeks, “Really?”

He strided closer, grabbing your hand at your side, “Yes, really. Now c’mere already.”

You felt Jean as he twirled you suddenly, pulling your back to his chest, laughing as he did so. You couldn’t hold back your own giggles, squealing as he began to move his feet clumsily to the beat of the song, one becoming familiar as the lyrics and music kicked in. You followed his movements, not exactly as dancerly as you had hoped, but it didn’t matter much to you. There was no one around, and the way Jean was “dancing”, you knew he didn’t care much about how well you moved.

You began jumping on your feet, Jean joining you enthusiastically, screaming the words out at the top of his lungs. You laughed hard at the sight, and he threw his arms around your waist.

“You’re like, my favorite person ever, you know that?” Jean looked away shyly at the admittance, smiling so softly it warmed your heart. “You’re the only person I’d ever want to do this stuff with.”

“Awe, Jean, you going soft on me?” you teased lightly, sliding your arms around his neck as the two of you began to sway.

“Just for you,” he breathed, finally moving his honey colored eyes to yours. “Hey, um, have you ever thought about us?”

“What do you mean?” your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears, trying not to get your hopes up. You had the biggest crush on the man for years, and his words were going to effect every single thing from this moment on.

Jean took a deep breath, nearly stumbling over his words as he spoke, “I’ve liked you, for a really long time. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to lose you if you don’t feel the same, but, I kind of want to be your boyfriend.”

Your mouth hung open, eyes blinking furiously, “Are you serious?”

“You know what, I’m sorry, that was stupid,” he shook his head as if to erase his words, shutting his eyes and pulling away, your arms falling from his neck.

“Hey wait,” your hand shot to his bicep to stop him from moving any further. “Jean, I’ve liked you from the moment I met you. I just never thought you liked me back.”

“Of course I did! I mean, you’re like the coolest girl I’ve ever met. We like all the same music, you put up with my stupidity,” Jean chuckled, gazing at you so sweetly. “You go out on these late night adventures with me. You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning, the last person I talk to before I fall asleep. You’re beautiful, and that helps too.”

“I would be an absolute idiot to not want to be your girlfriend,” you looked down at your shoes shyly, smiling as the pent up words left your lips. “Who else is gonna’ throw rocks at my window like we’re in the 90’s?”

“I’m just missing the boombox, aren’t I?” he joked, fingers brushing past your temples to caress your hair. “You’re just so you, and you’re not afraid of that. You get me, and I get you. It’s always been us.”

“It has,” you flickered your eyes up at the contact, placing your own hands overtop of his.

Jean had no further words, staring intently at your lips. You placed your weight on the tips of your toes, pushing yourself to close the distance between the two of you. His lips were soft as you kissed him gently, he tasted like spearmint and smelled of expensive cologne, and your eyes fluttered shut. His mouth moved seamlessly against yours, smooth and purposeful, and you could feel all the emotions he held within himself pouring into you. Maybe it was your own, but your brain was silent as the music came to an end, softening in the background.

“You owe me a real date,” you whispered against his lips. “Not one at one in the morning.”

“Can’t promise you that,” he chuckled, peppering a kiss to the tip of your nose. “But seriously, do you want to go swimming now?”

#lacheri's 200 follower event #i made this sfw but i hope you like it!!

6 notes · View notes

confused-android · 4 years

Text

DGHDAtober, day 2: Farah - Dance.

---------------

"I don't – I don't dance," Farah says, hand immediately slipping into her right jacket pocket. Her keys are in there, and she holds them tightly.

I have my keys, I don't have to stay anywhere I don't want to stay. I can always go home. I have my phone, I have my wallet. I'm not stuck anywhere.

"That's not what you said last year," Dirk reminds her in a sing-song voice. "You danced at the festival and back at the station."

"That was different," she says, running her keys through her fingers. Three keys, four keys, five keys, and brass knuckles. Three keys, four keys, five keys, and brass knuckles. "I was under the influence of a spell. That's not the same as choosing to dance. I choose to – to not dance."

"It's a club, though," Todd says awkwardly. He understands. Dirk has never been self-conscious a day in his life, but Todd knows what it's like to feel constantly judged. He's usually the one judging himself, but he knows. "And everyone who reported seeing the, uh, the ghost, they were all on the dance floor."

"I know that," Farah snaps. "But I can, I can watch from the side, and provide backup for when one of you sees the ghost. If it is actually a ghost."

"It's a ghost," Dirk says confidently. "I'm sure of it."

"I don't want to know why you're so sure," Todd wearily. Dirk opens his mouth and Todd holds up one hand. "No, seriously – I don't want to know if you have ever seen a ghost before. I just don't."

"We have to dance," Dirk says. "That's the only way we'll get to the bottom of this. Besides, we could use a night out!"

Farah looks out the window and hopes that they can't see her eyelid twitching.

----------------------------------

Amanda bursts into her apartment, ten minutes before they're due to meet Dirk and Todd in the lobby, and immediately says, "no way. You're not going out in this."

"What? Yes – yes I am. This is a perfectly practical outfit." She's wearing boots with a low heel, stretch jeans, and a button down blouse with enough give at the bust that she can throw a punch without worrying about popping a button.

"Yeah. It's practical," Amanda says, sweeping past Farah and into her bedroom. "That's the problem. You look like you're ready for a fight."

"I'm always ready for a fight," Farah protests.

"You can't look ready for a fight at Le'Etage." Amanda throws open Farah's closet, pulls open all of the drawers of her dresser, and starts rummaging through her clothes, tossing a few garments on the bed. "There's a dress code. If you're not classy enough, they won't let you in."

"That wasn't in my research!" She's touching my clothes, she's touching my clothes, but I can fix it later, I can sanitize them, I can iron them. She's touching my clothes but it's okay. It's Amanda and it's okay.

"It's a Saturday night," Amanda explains, rifling through Farah's underwear drawer. "Most clubs get, like, fancier on the weekends." Finally satisfied, Amanda shoves an outfit at Farah's chest, and throws the rejected clothes onto the chair by Farah's bed. Farah's fingers twitch, eager to shakes out the wrinkles and hang the clothes back up, but there simply isn't time. She settles for shooting a dark look at Amanda, now poking through her make-up bag, and unbuttoning her blouse.

------------

"Where is she?" Dirk frets, looking at his phone. "She's never late, and we're never early, so I'm concerned that something genuinely terrible has – Farah?" His voice rises in an astonished squeak, and Todd turns around to see what his boyfriend is staring at.

"Damn," he blurts, then claps a hand over his mouth. "Sorry," he mutters, from between his fingers.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Farah mutters, arms crossed beneath her breasts. She's still wearing her practical boots, but now she's got on a black leather mini skirt with blue floral tights, an orange tank top, and a sheer blue scarf knotted around her neck. She's got a thigh holster for her phone and wallet and the black leather strap peeks out from beneath her skirt, framing the musculature of her thigh.

"I have literally no reason to laugh," Todd assures her, dropping his hand. "You look, uh, you look amazing. Like – wow."

"Ew," Amanda says, coming up behind Farah. "A) I didn't need to hear that, and B) what the hell are you wearing?"

Farah brushes past all three of them, pulls out her phone to call a Lyft, ignores the bickering behind her. They need to get to the club and find this ghost so she can come back home and get out of these clothes and never speak of this again.

It's for a case. It's for a case, and I don't have to dance. I look ridiculous but it's for a case, and it's okay, and I don't have to dance. It's okay, I don't have to dance, and it will be okay. It will be okay.

--------------------------------

They get past the bouncer without much trouble, though Todd has to slip her a twenty to excuse his jeans. Farah bitterly glares at his back, wishes she were still wearing her jeans, know that their group wouldn't have gotten in with two members in casual wear. Once they're in the door, Todd steers her directly towards the bar in the back, and makes her order herself two whiskey gingers.

"I can't get drunk tonight," she scolds him, paying for the drinks anyway. "We're here to investigate, not to party."

"You're way too tense to blend in," he explains. "It's not like you're a lightweight – you just need to chill out a little bit." He turns back to the bar to order some insufferably bitter beer, and she drains the first glass in one long swallow, eager to get one hand free.

Oh crap, this is strong. This is a nice club, they don't water down the drinks; am I going to get drunk? No, no I'm not. I'm not going to get drunk, Todd is right, I'm not a light weight. This is fine. This is fine.

Farah sets the empty glass back down on the bar and tips the bartender, and allows Todd to tow her to an open spot by the wall. She tugs her skirt down a smidge and tries to lean casually, but feels like her skin in buzzing. The music is loud and the beat is palpable in her lungs and stomach, and the dance floor is filled with people moving and writhing, jumping and grinning and spinning and holding.

"I guess it looks fun," she mutters, mostly to herself, but Todd laughs kindly.

"No it doesn't," he says, and she's reminded that he understands her. Kind of.

Todd hates himself. He's working on it, and dating Dirk and working for the agency are incredibly good for him, but he made years of bad choices, and the consequences are still catching up to him. Farah doesn't hate herself, per se, but she doesn't always like herself very much. Years of knowing, knowing that she's a disappointment doesn't vanish in six months of embracing her inner freak, and there's always a little voice in the back of her head repeating What would dad think? This isn't appropriate behavior for a professional, and I have to try harder to be better to earn his approval.

It means that she and Todd end up second guessing themselves on a regular basis. If they can jump in the deep end of a case, instinct takes over and they don't worry about what other people think, how they're behaving, how they're perceived. But if given a few minutes to stew, Todd will spiral down into hopelessness and Farah will work herself up into a tizzy. They're sure a hell of a pair.

A flash of the familiar catches her eye, and Farah squints into the crowd until she spots Amanda and Dirk. They haven't stopped by the bar, haven't imbibed at all, but they're both dancing joyfully. Sometimes holding hands and jumping around, sometimes spinning around each other, sometimes grinning at strangers and pulling them in, dancing with them. Farah looks over at Todd to see how he feels about watching his boyfriend dance with a muscly ginger man, but he's just smiling fondly, sipping his beer.

He catching Farah looking over at him and shrugs. "He likes dancing and I like watching him do things he likes," Todd explains awkwardly. "And I usually don't have to dance, so that works out pretty well for us.

"That's – that’s fine," she says. "I mean, I don't get it, but I get it, you know?"

"I know," he says, and finishes his beer. "Come on, drink up. Let's see how painless we can make this."

This is awful. I don't want to dance. I'm going to look like an idiot, I'm going to move my body the wrong way, and I am going to stand out in the crowd, and I'm going to give away the whole case. The ghost – it can't be a ghost, it can't be a ghost – will know that I'm a detective and it will stay away tonight and we'll have to come back and do this again. I can't do this again. I can't. I don't want to dance.

She throws back the rest of her whiskey ginger, places the empty low ball on a nearby high top, and lets Todd drag her into the crowd.

It's exactly as crowded and hot and close as it looks from the outside. There are people all around her and she has no idea who is at her back, who's near her blind spots, what their capabilities are, what their motivations are. It's almost enough to overwhelm her, to make her chest tighten and her shoulders tense, but the fizz of alcohol hitting her system seems to be just strong enough to keep her breathing, keep her moving. She and Todd reach Dirk and Amanda, and the two of them shout in delight.

"Farah," gushes Dirk, patting her upper arm enthusiastically. "I'm so excited you're here! Did Todd get you soused?"

"Shut up," hisses Amanda, but loudly enough to be heard over the music. "She wasn't supposed to know that was the plan."

"You guys aren't that subtle," Farah says dryly.

And then the current song ends and spins seamlessly into a new one, and Amanda reaches forward to yank Farah's elbow and she's dancing. Well, she's moving in the awkward two-step that every middle school dance chaperone knows so well, but at least she isn't standing out in the crowd as much as she would if she were solitary.

This is fine. I just need to keep moving so I don't stick out, and everything will be fine. I don't have to look good, I just need to dance. I don't want to dance, I don't want to be here, but this will be fine. This is fine. This is fine.

Dirk and Amanda seem to have abandoned their non-agency dance partners, and form a defensive square with Todd and Farah; it's easier, honestly, when the three people that she can see most clearly are also the three people that she cares the most about. Amanda isn't in town very often, and to see her looking almost carefree – it's really refreshing. They usually only get to interact when the threat of violence is imminent. Not that the threat of violence isn't imminent now, too, but it feels… it feels okay.

This is okay. This is okay.

The stilted two-step lasts through a few songs as the buzz in her veins rises and then settles into a comfortable warmth. Her muscles loosen and her smile becomes less of a grimace, less forced. Dirk has seized Todd and is moving all around him, treating him as a bit of a mobile prop, and Farah finds herself laughing at the tolerant expression on Todd's face. Her shoulders drop from their defensive stance, and as the beat spins through her chest, her arms start to move along with her legs, and her torso feels more fluid in its presence. There's an unexpected sensation of grace that runs down her spine, and Farah realizes that it feels almost like a flow of fighting stances. One pose moves into another moves into a third; her feet don't trip, she doesn't hit anyone else, she's aware of everything around her. Proprioception works as well for dancing as it does for training, as it does for fighting, and she's good at those things.

She's good at this.

The voice that's always muttering in her ears, worrying, tells her that she still probably looks stupid, that she isn't blending in, that this is unsafe. But the voice that she feels streaming in from her fingers and ears and hips tell her that she's smooth and sharp. Says that she looks deadly, in a good way. Says that this is a place she can also belong. That she does belong.

Farah dances.

Farah dances, and she looks good and she feels good and she is so, so good.

Three songs run into five songs run into seven. She’s sweating and she dances with Amanda and Dirk and Todd and by herself. She throws her head back – never unaware, never uncareful, but joyful – and dances.

Naturally, that's when the ghost attacks, and Farah smiles radiantly and lets the beat spin through her. Let’s go.

----------------------------

Link to: day one, Farah - Youth

#dghda #dirk gently #dirk gently's holistic detective agency #DGHDAtober #fanfiction #Farah Black #anxiety #dancing #It's me y'all #I'm Farah #my favorite anxious bean #Farah thinks 'let's go' the way that Holtzmann says it #lesbian badasses unite

13 notes · View notes