#so they offered for me to go to Dubai instead | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

errythinisblue · 3 years ago

Note

I just want a Rúben Dias smut because he’s so f hot 🥵😩 it can be about anything, I just want his d!ck

Let me tell you, I can relate to that request SO MUCH (as Rúben occupied pretty much all of my thoughts in the last few days!) I hope you like this!💙

“I can’t get enough of you.”

Rúben Dias x Y/N

Summary: You and Rúben are still in the early stages of your relatioship and you think you should take things slowly. But things heat up pretty fast instead, making you change your mind.

Warnings: SMUT.

gif credits to @ruben-dias

You and Rúben met in Dubai a little over a month ago. He was enjoying his holidays there with his family, while you were there on a work trip. You met each other at Expo, where he accidentally bumped into you, making your heart skip a beat as you looked into his brown eyes for the very first time.

He offered to buy you a drink, to show you how sorry he really was, and you found yourself unable to say no to him. You got to know each other a little as you walked around Expo while you sipped on your drinks, and you were surprised to know you had many things in common, one of those being the city you were living in: Manchester. You discovered he was a footballer for City too, and that explained why he was wearing that shirt with the team’s badge on.

Rúben couldn’t help but think that the fact he met you was a sign. How many chances did he have to meet someone from Manchester in Dubai? Very little. And how many were the chances he could meet a beautiful, smart girl like you, that lived where he too lived? Pretty much nonexistent, if you asked him. That’s why he immediately started to search for your name on socials, he had to have you. He couldn’t let you go, even if he had just met you. It was like he already couldn’t have enough of you.

When you came back from Dubai, you came back with lots of new ideas and inspiration for your work, and with a new follower too: Rúben, of course. He managed to find your account on Instagram and he couldn’t be happier when he saw that you followed him back, even if he felt a little like a stalker to be completely honest.

The two of you started to chat straight away. You would always find yourself smiling at his texts, at his teasing. He wasn’t just the most gorgeous man you’ve ever laid your eyes on, he was sweet and cute, and funny too. He was eager to know more about you and he never missed a chance to tease you, telling you that he would turn you into a City fan sooner or later; and he set his plan on motion when he asked you to attend one of his matches. That was your first date.

Last Saturday you went to see his game for the first time, and then Rúben took you out for dinner. His smile couldn’t be brighter that night; his team won the game, that made him a proud captain; then he had the chance to win you over properly, and that made him a nervous wreck.

If he thought back to that day, seven days ago, he really thought he couldn’t have got a better first date with you. Especially when he thought he got to kiss you for the first time that night.

“Thank you for tonight Rúben,” you smiled at him as you sat in the passenger seat of his car, “it was a perfect first date really… I might consider becoming a City fan you know.” you joked, making him laugh.

“Was it?” his voice was calm, and deep, and it made your stomach flip. He was staring into your eyes as he neared his hand to yours on your lap; he delicately brushed his fingers against yours and when he saw you didn’t pull back, he took your hand in his and raised it up to his warm lips.

“Well actually…” you whispered as your voice caught in your throat at the feeling of his touch, “I could think of a way to make it even better…” you slowly moved from your seat, leaning your hand on the headrest, beside Rúben’s head; he could see your face nearing his, just like he could feel himself leaning towards you at the same time.

“How can I make it better?” he murmured, raising one of his hands to place a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Kiss me.” you simply told him, and he didn’t need to hear anything else as he took your face in his big hands and gently placed his lips on yours. He took his time to taste you, to feel your lips on his own; he was kissing you slowly as he didn’t want that moment to ever end. His gentle touch was making you go crazy, you felt like he was afraid of breaking you, of ruining you, and you couldn’t help but find this side of him absolutely endearing.

“Better now?” his hoarse voice brought you back to reality, after he parted his lips from yours.

“So much better…” you smiled as you leaned your forehead against his own, making him close his eyes at the contact.

Rúben wasn’t the only one who couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss, you too couldn’t. It’s been a week since you last saw him, and even if you two were always calling or texting each other, you found yourself missing the physical contact. You only got to experiment it once with him, but it seemed like you were already addicted to his touch. You missed him so much it was driving you nuts and you couldn’t wait for tonight, when you would finally see him again after his game.

You were both coming from a long, stressful week of hard work and intense training, so you invited him at yours, thinking that it would be the perfect occasion for a nice at home date night. You offered him to cook something for dinner, knowing he would be exhausted after the match, and then you could just enjoy a laid back evening, watching a movie on your sofa as you both relaxed.

And that was the thing Rúben was looking forward to the most: having you in his arms, while you just enjoyed each other’s company. He really wanted nothing more than to be with you, since you were all he could think about in the last days; to be honest you were occupying every thought in his mind even right now, while he was walking through the tunnel to the pitch with his teammates behind him.

You were setting the table as you heard someone softly knocking on your door. You knew it was Rúben; the game ended in a win around an hour ago, and your heart skipped a beat at the thought of him finally being there, at the thought you were about to see him after the days you spent apart.

You ran to the door, taking a deep breath before opening it to reveal his beautiful face. The breath you took got stuck in your throat as soon as you saw him, and he took you by surprise with his next move, as you didn’t expect him to do what he did as soon as you opened the door.

He didn’t even gave you the time to say ‘hi’ that his mouth was already on yours; your face was in his hands as he held you still, while his lips were savoring you with such a hunger it was making you feel like your legs would give way soon.

The kiss escalated quickly, and you couldn’t contain the moan that escaped your mouth when Rúben pushed his tongue past your lips; the sound he elicited from you went straight to his crotch, and he was surprised by how little it took for you to make him unable to resist you. He couldn’t stop thinking about you during the last week, and now that he was back with you it was like the craving he had of you had spiked. Even more so when you were responding to his kiss like that.

“I missed you,” he murmured with his lips brushing your own, “so fucking much…”

“How do I say that I missed you too in portuguese?” your breath fanned his lips and he shivered.

“TIve saudades tuas…” he looked at you with his dark eyes full of want.

“Tive saudades tuas, Rúben…” you told him before you pulled him in for another bruising kiss. You didn’t know if it was right of you to feel the way you were feeling now, if it was too soon to be feeling like the desire was eating you alive, but you didn’t really care, you were too focused on him to care.

“God I want you Y/N… I don’t think I’ll be able to stop…” he said, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs and making you lean into his touch with closed eyes, “Do you want to stop?” his voice dropping at least two octaves.

“Do you think we should stop?” you asked, leaning your hands on his rock hard abs, covered only by the thin fabric of his white shirt. He was making you lose your mind as he stood in front of you dressed in some black tight jeans and a white shirt that hugged his torso perfectly.

“I asked you first.” he told you, tilting up your face by your chin, “And I want an answer now…” his brown eyes were fixed on your slightly parted lips while he waited for your reply.

“I don’t want to stop Rúben.” you whispered before you closed your eyes once again at the feeling of his thumb caressing your bottom lip, “I don’t think we should stop…”

“I want you so much,” he growled, “you have no idea Y/N…”

“Show me then…” you bit your bottom lip in anticipation under his stare, placing your hands on the warm skin of his forearms that were left uncovered from the rolled up sleeves of his shirt.

“Don’t.” he instructed, removing your lip from between your teeth, “You’re making me want to bite that lip so bad…”

“Am I?” you smirked. The question made something switch inside of Rúben as he wrapped an arm around your waist and effortlessly took you in his arms. His hands were holding you under your butt, while your legs circled his hips as your arms went around his broad neck.

“You are…” he brushed his nose against your own, “You’re so beautiful… bebê...” You blushed under his gaze upon hearing that nickname he gave you days before, explaining to you it was the portuguese form for ‘baby’.

You felt your heart beating faster at the close contact with his body. The intense smell of his cologne was making you feel even more intoxicated by him, he was awakening every single one of your senses and it was driving you insane as you couldn’t stay still in his hold.

“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked you, pushing your body against the closest wall as he was leaving pecks and little bites on the soft skin of your neck.

“Down the corridor, last door on the left…” you breathed under his lips’ attack.

He finished trailing his lips down the column of your neck, before holding you against him once again as he walked to your bedroom.

He didn’t even think about switching the light on, as the only thing he wanted was to take his sweet time pleasuring you, and making you moan louder than you did before. So once he entered your room he gently let you down on your bed, before laying down between your thighs.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark room, illuminated only by your two favorite scented candles, his heart picked up its pace. You were laying there, under him, while your hands were slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt. He wanted you like he never wanted anyone before, so much that he was already aching to be inside of you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you breathed a laugh as you watched his face.

“You’re perfect bebê…” he whispered as his hands were going up your thighs, raising your dress to your waist.

You both took your time to remove the clothes from the other’s body, using this opportunity to admire each other’s skin for the first time.

“Come here…” you whispered to him, feeling your body burn under Rúben’s intense stare. You watched him as he was kneeled between your thighs, wearing just a pair of tight black boxers, that left very little to your imagination. You couldn’t resist another second without placing your hands on his skin, and you felt him humming at the lingering touch on his taut stomach.

He didn’t need to be told twice, as he took your hands away from his abs, placing them at the side of your face while he held them in his own. He laid back down above you, but this time there was only a thin layer separating your bodies and you could feel his hard on pressing against your clothed core.

You moaned at the feeling, before Rúben placed his lips on yours, breathing in your moans as he slowly grinded his hips against you.

“Rúben…” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as your head was already clouded by the feeling of his body over yours.

“Patience bebê…” he said as he left open mouthed kisses down your chest, after he removed your bra. He took his time toying with your breasts, he wanted to see all of you, to have all of you; and that’s what he did, starting from nibbling and sucking on your left breast while he cupped the other with his warm hand, switching to the other when he felt like it.

He kissed his way down your stomach, but his hands never left your breasts, as his fingers were still around your nipples. You were already finding it hard to breathe, Rúben was so good that you couldn’t help but arch your spine off the bed to push your chest further into his hands.

“May I?” his voice was so husky it made you shiver under the slight brush of his fingers, that were now on your hips, over the material of your panties.

You looked down at him and nodded your head, hoping it would be enough as you really couldn’t bring yourself to talk in that moment, too immersed in the feeling of anticipation. And you felt like the luckiest girl in the world, as you watched him slid your panties down your thighs, before throwing them on the floor, over the pile of your discarded clothes.

“You’re so wet already…” he murmured as he delicately placed his hand on your pussy; you whined as his fingers started to draw lazy circles over your clit, “I wanna taste you bebê.”

“Please…” was the only word that came out of your mouth, and it was enough for him to lower his face to where you needed him the most.

He groaned as soon as he ran his tongue from your slit to your clit, tasting you for the first time. The vibration of his voice against your sensitive skin, together with the swipes of his tongue were already making you feel lightheaded, while your hands were in his short hair. You needed something to hold on to as he alternated between the precise strokes of his tongue and the sucking of his lips on your clit.

“Oh Rúben…” you moaned, as you could already feel a knot forming in your stomach. It was the first time he was going down on you, and you couldn’t understand how he seemed to know what got you going. The feeling of his tongue on you was perfect, he was perfect.

“Say it again…” he instructed, brushing his lips against your clit while he talked to you. He placed his mouth back on your pussy as soon as those words left it.

“Rúben!” you whimpered under his merciless touch, feeling the knot tightening with every swipe of his tongue, “Don’t stop please…”

And he didn’t. He didn’t stop, he only placed his hands on your thighs, keeping them apart as he never stopped his assault on your core. As you pleaded for him, you pleaded for God too, thanking him for the chance you had to meet Rúben; and as you pleaded, and pleaded, and pleaded for more you found yourself on the brink of your high. Even Rúben could tell how close you were, and that’s why he increased the pace of his movements.

“C’mon babe, cum for me…” he said to you, while he lowered one of his hands to your pussy, pushing one, then two of his fingers into you, stretching you out while you couldn’t resist anymore, “Let me hear you…”

“Oh fuck Rúben!” you moaned out loud as you felt the knot in your lower stomach snap, “I-I’m cumming!”

You came under the attack of his fingers and tongue, and you came hard. So hard you thought you were about to see stars, while Rúben helped you ride out the first orgasm he ever gave you.

He didn’t even give you the time to gain your breath back, as he laid his body on your once again. He kissed you, making you taste yourself on his lips. The feeling of his lips against your own made something snap into you, and you found yourself palming him through his boxers. You wanted him, bad, and when you felt how big and hard he was for you, your desire for him only raised.

“I want you Rúben…” you said, making him whimper as he felt your hand slip under the waistband of his boxers before it wrapped around his dick, “I want you to fuck me.”

“I want you too,” he breathed as he removed his black boxers, before kneeling back between your thighs. He ran the tip of his dick through your folds, before slowly easing his way into you, “fuck I want you so much baby…” he groaned at the feeling of your tight walls around him.

“Oh, fuck!” you whined as you felt his big cock stretching you for the first time.

He slowly started to thrust his hips into you, dragging his dick in and out of you at such a slow pace you were able to feel every inch of him. He didn’t know how long he could resist you, as you were running your nails at the back of his neck making him go wild.

“Fuck you feel so good bebê…” he groaned pushing his dick faster into you, while his hands went to your boobs, massaging them as he was looking down where your bodies met, “…taking my cock so well.”

“Rúben…” you moaned his name as you wanted him to know how good he was making you feel. The moment he saw you placing your hands on his bigger ones over your breasts he felt his dick twitch inside of you, and you felt it too, whimpering at the feeling.

“What babe?” he lowered his face to yours while he slowed his movements down a little, “Tell me what you want…”

“Faster, I need you to go faster please…” you whined as you pressed your lips to his, feeling his pace increase instantly. The feeling of the second orgasm of the night approaching was making your skin tingle, as you listened to Rúben’s moans in your ear.

“Fuck bebê you’re gonna make me cum…” he moaned, “I can already feel you clenching down on me…”

“I’m so close baby…” you told him, speaking those words against his mouth, “…so so close…”

“I know bebê, me too…” he groaned, feeling himself incredibly close to cumming too, “…me too fuck! Cum now, cum!” he couldn’t hold off anymore. The feeling of you around him was making him unable to hold back his orgasm, and with a few harsh thrusts he came deep inside of you, feeling your walls contract around him while you reached your peak at the same time he reached his.

But he didn’t have enough still, the adrenaline from the match mixed with the feeling of being back with you, finally making you his, was making him want more and more of you.

“Can you give me one more baby?” he groaned, as he slowly started to move again inside of you.

“Rúben I-” you tried to speak before he gave a particularly deep thrust, “Fuck! R-Rúben!” you felt yourself get turned on again as you felt him move his dick into you once more.

“Turn around for me.” he instructed as he helped you get on all fours, “I can’t have enough of you…” he sweetly told you as he pushed himself into your pussy from behind, pushing his cum back inside you while he kissed down your spine.

“Fuck baby…” you whined as you felt him stretch you once again, “oh God Rúben!”

“You’re so good bebê…” he moaned, feeling himself already getting close to another high, “…so so good.”

“You’re so deep…fuck!” you shut your eyes tight while your oversensitive walls clamped down on him once again, “You’re making me cum again Rú-”

He interrupted your talking as he wrapped his hand around your neck, making you stand on your knees, with your back against his chest.

“Cum with me again bebê… c’mon let me feel you again!” he growled in your ear, while his hand went back to your clit to give you the final push you needed to fall over the edge.

“Fuck Rúben!” your head fell back against his shoulder as you came for the third time that night.

“Oh my God, Y/N!” he bit down on your neck as he came another time inside of you, “Te amo…”

You didn’t really get what he told you, as you still couldn’t understand portuguese that much. But you did have an idea about what he could have said, and that idea made you smile, as you turned your head around to kiss his temple.

He slowly pulled out of you, his tired body fell on your bed as he laid down to catch his breath while you made your way to your bathroom to clean yourself up. It didn’t take that long to do so, but once you went back to your room you found Rúben asleep, still naked in all his glory. He must have been exhausted after the tiring week and the match too, so you decided to let him sleep while you warmed up the food you prepared for dinner.

You put on a pair of clean panties, then you took his shirt from the floor and put it on, smiling as you saw how big it was on your smaller body. Before you walked to the kitchen you covered him up with your duvet, leaving a kiss on the tip of his nose before you walked out of the room.

It took you half an hour to prepare everything, and you even cooked some more things, as you were sure Rúben would be famished when he woke up after your activities. Once you were finally done and the food was ready, you walked down the corridor once again, slowly opening your bedroom door to reveal Rúben’s still sleeping figure. He had turned to lay on his back while he slept; the covers fell to his hips, leaving his toned, naked torso on sight. As you padded your way to your bed, you admired the way his chest was slowly rising and falling in a rhythm that matched his breathing; you took in his relaxed features, and after you sat down on the edge of your bed you ran your fingers through his short messy hair, making him groan in his sleep.

“Meu amor...” he mumbled, as he was still asleep. His words made you smile, even more so as you watched him turn on his side to face you and wrap an arm around your waist.

“Rúben…” you whispered in his ear, “Dinner’s ready…”

“Olá…” he said ‘hi’ to you with his raspy voice, tightening his hold around your waist, “…clothes thief.” he smiled as he noticed that you were wearing his shirt.

“Bom dia…” you laughed, using the portuguese for ‘good morning’ to mock him.

“Making progress I see…” he smirked at you while he sat up on your bed.

“I think I even got the meaning of what you said earlier…” you said as you straddled him, watching as he bit down on his lip while he slightly blushed.

“You do?” he lowered his eyes to your hands that were resting on his chest, “I-I mean I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable but…that’s how I feel I-” he started to ramble before you stopped him with a kiss.

“I love you too Rúben,” you said against his lips, “Te amo…” you said to him, feeling his arms wrap around you.

“I’m so lucky I found you.” he murmured in your neck, “I mean it…”

“I know you are!” you laughed, “I even cooked you dinner!”

“Well about dinner…” he whispered in your ear, “I think I’m only hungry for one thing tonight…”

“Rúben!” your mouth fell open at his words, “We literally just stopped I-”

“Told you I can’t get enough of you…” he smirked before pressing your hips down on him, and kissing you like the hunger he had for you had never be sated.

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harrysmimi · 3 years ago

Text

Picnic Date

Synopsis: I don't know what to write here, it's just about Harry being a very amazing boyfriend that he is.

CW: mentions of loss of a loved one and grief.

More of my work

It was no doubt that Harry was so in love with his girlfriend, he's written an entire album about her and for her.

Two years with her, all the time, he have always seen her very much happy and motivated in doing what she did; being a professor at a very well reputed university. Though she was just barely two years into her teaching career, she was amazing, or at least that's what her students said. Finance was definitely not an easy subject to learn or to teach.

Both of them met at the airport three years ago when YN moving to London as she's gotten a job there. Both of them had a connecting flight from Dubai to London, Harry was flying back home from Japan and she was flying from India. He'd remembered her trying not to freak out the entire eight hours on plane sitting next to him until Harry himself started up a conversation. She'd jokingly invited him over to her house for a meal promising to make some Indian food, she did not really expected him to actually show up. That's how both of them hit off and started dating.

Seeing YN grief her grandmother, who seemed to be only person involved in her life, chipped at his heart. He felt bad for being stuck up with a tour when she got a call from her cousin asking her to go over to see her grandmother.

He didn't know how to help her because she have never lost someone so close to her, and she herself didn't know how to express what she was going through. All she did was cry, bare eat anything and just worked even on weekends, she spent her free time checking test papers on her computer. Talking little to nothing, it was very unusual for a person who love to rant about literally everything to be that silent.

Harry and YN did not lived together just yet but he have managed to convince her to stay with him until she feels a little better. Be didn't wanted her to be alone. She was alone for two weeks before he was back home and he could be with her.

Harry just did not liked seeing her that way. It's been well over three months of her grandma passing.

"Hey baby do you want go on a walk and get Icecream?" Harry suggested though he did not wanted to disturb her cosy set up she had going on, with blanket in corner of the living room sofa and her laptop grading the test papers. But she have to get out of house too.

"I don't want to go out." She sighed closing her laptop and keeping it aside when he sat next to her.

"Why not? Do you want to get Chinese food you like from that restaurant instead? We can drive there if you don't feel like walking there, yeah?" He suggested.

"I'm not that hungry. But I can make you something real quick if you want." She offered.

"No, no, it's fine. Just thought you know we can go out on a little date." He explained, "it's okay if you don't want to."

"I'm sorry, I just want stay in." She cuddled into him taking advantage of him sitting next to her, pulling him in her blanket bubble.

"Oh love!" He cooed gathering her in his arm seeing tears pooling in her eyes, "I'm sorry you have to go through all this but you'll feel better as times goes by, trust me."

"I don't know how to process it." She admitted. "It's been long enough to try and over it."

"You don't need to get over it, you can't really, you can try to live without her." He said, his hand running soothingly on her thigh over he fluffy blanket. "I know it may sound very brutal to listen to love, I am sorry, but you know I understand what you're going through."

"I'm trying." She sniffled.

"I know and I'm so proud of you! But if it's not working we can try out something else, yeah? Like we can go out have a picnic tomorrow, or we can go somewhere for a few days. Or be impulsive and get another pet bird. How does an African Grey or a little Budgie sound?"

She chuckled a whine at his last suggestion. He was obviously joking to lighten up her mood, he does not condone getting an animal impulsively, he just likes to mess with her sometimes. And he never misses a chance to tease her about how she impulsively got a pet bird when she was at the pet store to get cat food, she fed the stray cat in her neighbourhood. It was a weird choice of pet for Harry at first but it was all changed when he actually met the animal. She got the bird as it seemed lonely.

Now that bird goes everywhere with her, except for when she's at work because pets aren't allowed on the campus.

"What do you say?" He asked.

"We can go out tomorrow, it's Saturday so I don't have work." She answered.

"Yeah? How about we go on a little picnic date to the little park by your house?" He suggested.

"Yeah." She nodded.

"And where is the little birdie?" He enquired. Of course, Lady the little birdie came flying landing on Harry's hair. She really loved him and was very much bonded with him too.

"Why do you always sit on my head?" He asked earning a loud high pitched chirp from the bird.

"You're hair is like a nest." YN commented getting the bird off his head. "It's curly and all."

"Hey!" He whined offended

"She said that not my words." She shrugged.

"Oh so now you speak the bird language too?" He squinted his eyes. She nodded in yes.

It never failed to amaze Harry how a pray animal could be so free and loving. Right now Lady was giving YN kisses and doing her head bop dance.

......................................................................

It was the next day, Harry woke up very early made a really nice breakfast, though he really struggled in kitchen. He'd prepared for their little picnic date. YN was very much impressed by his sandwich making skills.

"Hey!" He called out Lady for stealing a piece of cucumber, she waddled her way away from him as quickly as she could on the counter.

"You know she is not going to listen to you." YN pointed out.

"She never does!" He shook his head.

After Harry was done with the sandwiches, he got to making fruit smoothie for him and his lovie.

"What are you doing?" YN laughed seeing him dance to the faint noise of the blender, the bird joining him as well bopping her head walking back and forth on the counter. It was a very entertaining sight.

It was very cold for Lady to go out so YN opted to put her back into her cage as she'll be gone for only couple of hours, and Lady didn't mind being in her cage for a little time as well. She very much liked her little set up at Harry house, she had her own room dedicated to only herself. Harry had went over board hiring professionals to ser up a place for the bird. YN still tease him as he tried not bond too much with the animal at the very beginning when YN first got her.

"It's very pretty out here isn't it?" Harry crooned.

"Yeah but it's a little cold." She nodded. It was already December. Both of them set their picnic up a little bit isolated from others, Harry still liked to be very private when out in public and constantly looking over his shoulder for sneaky cameras.

"You know, I got there just in time to see her." YN shared, "the first thing she asked was when we're getting married and having kids." She had tears in her eyes yet she waa giggling.

Harry remembers very well, two years ago he went to see Grandma with YN for the first time. It was Christmas time. Harry got along so well with her grandmother they were inseparable. She was very much healthy back then and spoiled him so much. Him and YN were dating only for four months back then and she was already asking when he's going to marry her grand daughter.

YN's grandma was English professor, she recommended Harry a long list of books to read (he isn't even halfway through the list of books). The lady also loved his songs, and shared same taste in music with having love for The Rolling Stones and Fleetwood Mac like Harry. YN honestly felt so left out with both of them.

"Do you want to?" He asked, "I mean get married?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I?" She answered. "I love you."

"I love you more baby!" He cooed leaning in to press a kiss on full of lips. "Oh, I completed the song I was talking about."

"You did?"

"Mhmm!" He nodded pulling out his airpods handing her one piece and played the song for her from his voice memos. It was his fourth album and he's written only three songs so far and every song he played her first.

"I love it! Now I can't wait to listen to finished studio version!" She seemed excited.

"Will probably start recording it after Europe tour, you'll be the first to hear it lovie!"

"I better be!" She said sipping on her smoothie. "Are you going to be home this Christmas?"

"I will, I am always home for Christmas." He said.

"Thought you had a show two days before Christmas." She tried to remember.

"That was in the schedule before we had to reschedule it."

"Ah! Okay." She nodded, "do you think we can you know celebrate with your family this time instead of it just being us two?"

"Of course we can baby!" He smiled, "mum will love to have us over."

"Yeah," YN agreed.

Anne always loves to have her kids over. Even YN was welcomed whenever she wanted. Anne had invited her over for a weekend after she was home from attending her Grandma's funeral and Harry wasn't home. She was really like a mother to YN and loved her very much, or you can more than Harry though he would not like to admit that as he's one of jealous kind.

"Oh no," Harry sighed. His Spidey senses spiked up as he spotted a few people taking sneaky pictures of him, "do you want to go home?"

"It's okay, I don't use that bird app anyway!" YN shrugged, "it's very nice out here to go back home early."

"Whatever you say, but if you feel uncomfortable just let me know okay?"

"I will, I will!" She assured him. "It's very cold here though."

"It is winter time so it's going to be cold love." He pointed. "It's not very cold, you're still not used to the weather here."

"It get very cold here!" She defended. Harry just laughed taking off his beanie and putting on her head, pushing back the baby hairs out of her face, pulled up the hood of her head. She was wearing his puffer jacket which was extra big big on her.

"There ya go!" He nudged his nose to her, a little affectionate gesture which was their thing, a kitten's kiss.

YN was already feeling better. Harry started a play fight by putting up an act of throwing a bug at her which startled her almost to death.

"No! No! No!" He squealed dodging her tickle attacks, "no!" He was laughing like an idiot.

"Harry find that bug!" She whined, dusting her clothes.

"There was no bug, I promise." He put his hand up in defeat.

"I hate you!" She huffed sitting back down on the picnic blanket comfortably.

"And I love you too!" He smiled his cheesy wide grin.

......................................................................

N O T E :

I struggled to end this one too...

#fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #x reader #boyfriendrry #boyfriend!harry #harry concept #harry styles concept #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic

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thedummysdummy · 3 years ago

Text

Sunrise

If the sun had shone for any length of time in the last week, it must have done it in secret. Storm clouds hung low and heavy but refused to release their load. Perhaps they felt as if they would somehow become less if they let go of the weight they carried.

Or perhaps that was simply Victor projecting his cares and troubles on the sky. If the sun shone, he did not see it. If his burden could be laid down, he refused to do so. The weight of his decisions sat heavily on his mind and could not be moved. He had not seen or spoken to the girl in nearly a week; it was for the best. Yet…he couldn’t help staring at the door, his heart jumping every time he heard footsteps in the hallway.

But it was never her.

No amount of ‘it’s better this way,’ or ‘she’ll be happier without me’ could ease the pain in Victor’s soul. Nor could it stop his mind from spinning. For perhaps the first time in his life, Victor began to wonder if he had made a mistake.

A knock at the door brought Victor's head to attention, only to see Goldman standing in the frame holding a cup of coffee. "Morning boss," he called, stepping inside and placing the cup on the desk. His eyes were drawn to Victor's sunken cheeks, pulling his lips down into a frown. Though the temptation to bring it up was strong, the assistant sighed inwardly and attempted to emulate Victor’s neutral expression. “The film company’s quarterly report comes due tomorrow. The director has offered to send Anna in her stead to give it.”

“Unnecessary. The director is still requested to give her own reports.” Victor’s face showed no sign of emotion, but his eyes flickered with a burst of emotion that a blink of the eye would miss. “What other meetings do I have tomorrow?”

Goldman ran his finger down the sheet of paper attached to the clipboard he carried, tilted his head slightly, and shook it. “Seems that is the only meeting. Does the CEO require the afternoon for something else tomorrow? I could move the quarterly review to the next day and give you a day off?”

“Also unnecessary. Just don’t schedule anything else for me tomorrow.” The boss tapped the stack of documents he held on the desk to straighten them and offered them to Goldman. “These need to be faxed over to Dubai and filed away. I also need you to create an itinerary for my trip to New York next week. I will be at the branch office for the rest of the week after tomorrow, so please ensure that the staff there are aware.”

“Of course, boss.” Goldman accepted the documents but did not turn to leave, hovering slightly as if he wanted to say something else. Victor’s clear eyes stared directly at the assistant and he seemed to lose his nerve. “If you need anything else, just let me know. And make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

A small smirk pulled at the corners of Victor’s lips for a moment, but he brushed it off and gestured for Goldman to move along. He took a sip of the coffee and went back to work, intent on keeping his brain busy.

~~~

Sugar and cream rested on the counter of Victor’s kitchen, staring back at him as his eyes stared through them, unfocused. Making pudding always helped. Always. But today…he couldn’t seem to bring himself to do more than set the ingredients on the counter and will them to be a caramel dessert. But then again, who would eat it even if he did make it? Victor shook his head and put them back in the fridge. He instead picked up a cup of coffee and walked into the living room with his phone in the other hand.

Twenty minutes later the doorbell rang. Victor lifted himself from the couch and answered, returning to the couch with a greasy bag of delivery fast food. Over the next half hour he picked at the meal and watched some sappy film…which he absorbed even less of than the food. His mind would not stop going to the meeting tomorrow, which turned his stomach. How was he going to manage to remain professional with the girl before him again?

“The same way you always do,” he grumbled beneath his breath, throwing away the rest of the food and turning off the television. “It’s just another business meeting with a business partner. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Similar thoughts were rushing through the mind of the other party in this whole mess. The girl finished her text to Anna and put the phone down with a sigh. She had thought for sure that Victor would allow Anna to take her place; surely after the events of last week he wouldn’t want to see her. And yet…she couldn’t help feeling a little excited that he had turned down her suggestion. Perhaps things weren’t quite as hopeless as they had felt?

With this in mind, she pulled up Goldman’s contact and her fingers hovered over the virtual keyboard for a moment, considering what to say. “How was the boss doing today?” she finally typed. “Has he been eating? Sleeping?”

Goldman’s reply was quick, but not what she wanted to hear. “He’s lost weight and I doubt he’s even seen his bed. But maybe seeing you tomorrow will put him in better spirits.”

“We can only hope,” she replied, sighing. “We may not have been destined to stay together, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still love him.” The girl tossed the phone onto the bed next to her and continued working on the report for tomorrow. It had to be absolutely perfect…the last thing she wanted was to make Victor angry.

~~~

“Have you eaten today, Boss?” Goldman set down today’s cup of coffee and frowned when Victor shook his head. “You need to eat, Sir. You’re going to waste away into nothing if you keep skipping meals.”

Victor scowled and set down the document he had been reading to make full eye contact with Goldman. “Don’t you have enough work to do? Obviously not since you have time to be in here bothering me. You’re starting to sound like-” His vocal cords froze, seemingly unwilling to finish the sentence. Goldman knew exactly what he had nearly said, however.

“Starting to sound like her? Good, someone needs to. You aren’t taking care of yourself! And anyone with eyes can see that you miss her.” Goldman’s bold words caught Victor by surprise, which made the assistant laugh softly. “What? Did you really think that nobody knows you well enough to see that you’re completely not Victor? You’ve been coming in late and leaving early. Your trash is filled with half-eaten fast food. Good grief, you have even been coming in from the other side of the building, which tells me you refuse to drive past her building. I doubt you even realize how obvious your change of schedule and behavior has become. You need to put aside your stubborn pride and call her.”

A look of irritation filled Victor’s face, but the more he thought about Goldman’s words, the more he realized that he was correct…a realization which only served to fill Victor with frustration. “Get back to work,” he growled, picking up the document and putting it in front of his face. “And I don’t want to hear any more about your perceived ‘changes in my behavior.’ Everything is perfectly fine.”

“Whatever you say, Boss,” Goldman replied, his voice filling with regret. “But at least consider changing your mind? I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s missing you as much as you’re missing her.” Victor made no reply and Goldman sighed, turning the door handle. “At least drink the coffee. She would want you to have at least that much in your stomach.” He left without another word, leaving Victor staring at the back of his office door.

~~~

Her palms were sweaty and her heart pounded in her ears as the girl stood outside the door to Victor's office. The entire floor was quiet; even Goldman's door was tightly shut. The proposal in her hand was as ready as it would ever be, but she couldn't help feeling nervous.

She raised her hand to knock, but paused with her knuckles millimeters from the wood. The breath in her lungs solidified and her forehead slowly lowered to rest against the door. "Please let this go smoothly," she whispered, eyes closed and begging anyone who may be listening. "Please don't let his eyes be filled with pain."

Knowing that tardiness would not help her case, she managed to take a deep breath and rapped on the door.

"Come in."

Victor's sunken eyes sought the familiar form that he had longed for as the door swung inward. The office was dark, lit only by the lamp and what sunlight could force its way through the cracks in the blinds. Bright light from the hallway spilled in and blinded him for a moment. He squinted as a dark figure stepped in and closed the door behind her. But he didn't need to see the girl to know she had finally stepped through his doorway. Her scent, her breathing, her aura…all of it was so intimately familiar. She said nothing as she stepped over to the desk and placed the proposal in front of Victor. Victor did not move, nor did his eyes meet the girl's.

They stared past each other with the tension growing moment by moment. When she could no longer take the pressure, the girl turned and opened the blinds. Sunlight filtered over Victor's face and she could see for the first time exactly how tired he looked. Her hand lifted slightly, seeking to comfort him, but she stopped short. Sadness filled her heart and made the corners of her eyes prickle, but she blinked furiously and cleared her throat to fend off the offending tears. She would show him that she deserved to keep her funding, despite their change in status.

Her mouth opened again and again to begin the proposal, but no sound came out. She was too lost in those dark, sunken eyes. To her surprise, Victor showed no impatience. He simply sat like a stone statue in his chair, legs crossed and his hands resting in his lap. That mask she knew so well now…He had put up those familiar walls. She took a deep breath and managed to speak. "Victor…I cannot give my proposal today. I'm not strong enough for this yet." Her voice startled even herself, causing her to step away from the desk and hang her head. "You should have let Anna come today. I'm too much of a dummy for this."

Victor stood silently and stepped past his desk, his breathing coming in sharp bursts. He stopped in front of the girl and looked down, meeting her eyes for the first time. "No. I am the dummy. I am the dummy for expecting you to pretend everything is fine. I am the dummy for thinking I could pretend everything is fine.” He reached out and brushed the hair from her face, his fingers running down her cheek to lift her chin gently.

“And mostly…I am the dummy for thinking I could let you go.”

His warm arms suddenly wrapped around her and pulled the girl to his chest, not even giving her a chance to react before she found her face buried in his shirt. His scent of sandalwood and caramel filled her nose, seeming to warm her clear through. The desperation and ferocity in his embrace brought her back to a sunny day in the woods when a desperately worried Victor had held her in much the same way. Despite her confusion and surprise, the girl melted into those familiar arms and allowed Victor to bury his face in her shoulder.

How long they stood there, neither party knew. Nor did they care. Time could have stood still for a millenia and neither would have been bothered by it. The girl at some point wrapped her arms around Victor’s waist and lifted her face to softly kiss his cheek. He pulled back and looked her deep in the eyes. “Does…that mean you’ve forgiven me?” he asked, his voice breathy and unstable.

“Of course, Victor. There was nothing to forgive.”

Before she could speak any more, her words were stolen away by Victor’s lips. He seemed intent on removing every last ounce of breath from her lungs and replacing it with his own. Again and again Victor pressed their lips together. Every missed moment since they had broken up was made up for as he bit at her lips and held her body to his own. All around them was nothing but heat. Heat from their lover’s lips. Heat from their faces. A fiery inferno raging in their hearts that only grew as their passion grew stronger.

Victor turned and lifted the girl onto his desk, his fingers wrapping themselves in her hair. “Letting you go…was the only thing…I’ve ever regretted,” he whispered, the words barely finding enough air to escape his throat. “I’m never…making…that mistake…again.”

“Me either,” the girl replied, biting Victor’s lip in return. “Me either.”

~~~

Goldman repeatedly peeked at Victor’s door, hoping that the long meeting was good news. The girl had been in there no less than an hour despite the quarterly report only usually lasting only fifteen minutes. There hadn’t been any shouting…surely that was a good sign?

The sound of the doorknob turning caused his heart to jump and the assistant poked his head around the corner. Victor and the girl emerged from the office hand-in-hand, their clothing slightly disheveled. Victor’s tie hung loosely around his neck and the top couple of buttons were open, revealing a bright red mark on his adam’s apple. Smudges of lipstick colored the corners of his lips and throat. Goldman pulled his head back into his office and punched the air excitedly.

All was, again, as it should be.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Art by Redetsky

#I couldn't stand leaving them like that #optional finale for those who couldn't stand it either #go Goldman!#you tell him #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc victor #mlqc #love and producer li zeyan #love and producer victor #evol x love #mlqc fanfic #love and producer #mlqc victor fanfic #mr love queen's choice

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wirtz · 3 years ago

Text

A masterpost for everything Romain Molina has said so far (translated):

Note: Please tell me if there are any typos, translation errors, I will update this as new information is revealed.

Trigger Warning: Lots of rape, sexual abuse/assault of minors, disgusting fetishes, terrorist organizations and much more, please don’t take these lightly

The following is a non-exhaustive list of some of the claims made by investigative journalist Romain Molina (published in The Guardian, New York Times) in his most recent Twitter Space. It is important to note that while Molina's word is not to be taken lightly, as his work has influenced multiple FAs and officials in the past, this is not an official release on his part.

• At Arsenal, all the players inhale nitrous oxide. A player came back to celebrate his birthday in Paris under the theme "nitrous oxide balloons".

• Everyone hopes to make money and work with Newcastle, Newcastle will become really influential in the world of football

• An International coach has apparently raped someone and it has been found out by someone that a lot of people rep on Twitter

• A lot of Nigerian players goes to other countries in Africa to play for that country when they literally have nothing to do or don't even have the nationality of that country

• All the Skerdenbreu games have been rigged and they have finished champions of Albania and their games were financed by an important person in the Albanian federation

• The agent of Kouassi has finessed PSG by saying that he will extend his contract when in fact he only just gone and went to Bayern straight afterwards

• The agent of Kouassi has finessed PSG by saying that he will extend his contract when in fact he only just gone a. went to Bayern straight afterwards

• A current French international organized parties where he would defecate in women's mouths and film himself while doing it. He forced a girl, who later on sought to issue a formal complaint, to participate. Someone offered Molina a video, which he declined to see.

• Benjamin Mendy has been sent back to prison be he took a jet to Dubai to party with his friends when he was forbidden to do that

• PSG apparently was bought by Qatar for Political reasons and not for the fact that they love the club

• Someone from the French federation said that he doesn't care about football but the most important part is sex, money and power. From what Molina said

• In the French 3rd division they rigged the number of shots or ratios per shot in a game so that they can have some successful bet tickets

• Apparently every in a lot of Asian countries the games are very rigged and also in South America, Central America, Eastern Europe and Southern Ireland and more specifically in Limerick

• Apparently Italian clubs have been protected a lot because a lot of people at FIFA were Italian from what Romain Molina said

• A lot of huge personalities in Africa football use the money from African football to pay to get some prostitutes and pay their daughter's studies. From what Romain Molina has said in his new space

• In Djibouti someone in his office instead of working on football, he goes on porn sites and some of the big personalities in Djiboutian Football said to their workers to go and meet some prostitutes instead of working

• 400+ players across the Premiership League and Ligue 1 were raped in their youth academies

• One of the largest academies in DR Congo is currently managed by a pedophilia ring.

• Megan Rapinoe wasn't bothered by Haitian girls getting raped. She prefers 'earning money' over 'defending these young girls'

• PSG has rigged games in the past

• The Sierra Leone FA faked COVID tests throughout the entirety of the pandemic, most notably in its qualifier against Benin. Other nations and/or clubs are suspected to have forged documents as well, but this is not confirmed.

• Some people rigged a game by betting a kebab for a team to score a pen in an international level game in Asia and the team scored 6 or 7 penalties

• A Ligue 1 team covered up a pedophilia scandal in their youth academy by brainwashing the player by the time law enforcement was involved. Then, they sent the young player in question back to his country (he was a foreigner).

• An international coach was 'caught red-handed' after raping two 13 year-old girls in the middle of a tournament. His employer, a large media, fired him under other pre-tenses in 2017. This issue is especially concerning for 'us, as French people'. A famous, very well-liked personality participated in covering up this story as well.

• Paris Saint-Germain has been conceding burn-out after burn-out. Over 100 employees have left the club in the last year alone. Leonardo is hated because of his behaviour/attitude.

• The 'boss of Colombia's refereeing' is a pedophile. Molina has a complaint from a 12 year-old, which he can barely read in its entirety because it's 'gut-wrenching'.

• Alexandre Benalla (French 'personality') has been trying to get involved in PSG for years. He fought with some of Nasser's entourage.

• A consultant from L'Equipe has been involved in 'some shady stuff' in the transfer market.

• Some very important people bend over backwards to get in touch with people close to Nasser Al KhelaIfi.

• A Saudi consortium was never involved in the takeover of Olympique de Marseille

. • The French FA pushes some of its people to coach national teams in Africa. They already did it with Didier Six, for example, and Guinea (note: he also coached Togo and Mauritius in the past).

• Leonardo is hated in PSG. His signing of Icardi was not well-received by the coach at the time.

• The massive media outrage surrounding the Qatar World Cup is political and financed by people/ organizations who wish harm upon the country.

• The son of Congo-Brazzaville's president is involved in the national team. In the Central African Republic, Kondogbia is friends with the president.

• 80% of players smoke shisha. At one point in time, PSG players used to bring their shisha/hookah with them on away games. Blaise Matuidi regularly smoked shisha, but things still "worked out for him".

• The leagues in most Southeast Asian, Eastern European, and Latin American countries are fixed. Ireland, Malta, and Gibraltar also have 'lots' of matchfixing.

• A former French international was involved in a 'go-fast' (smuggling drugs and/or other products in another country). His club's president 'saved his ass'.

Updates:

• A minor was raped and forced into an abortion at an "international center of FIFA".

•Benjamin Mendy has done unspeakable things that the media does not report (presumably worse than multiple counts of rape???)

•Ferland Mendy allegedly hit a woman, knocked her to the ground, kicked her in the head before showing her his genitals. She needed to be taken to the emergency room. Mendy supposedly had serious problems with alcohol but all this information was hidden by Lyon to sell him to Real Madrid

•Real Madrid has fixed matches in the past including their match against Bayern in the Champions League

•Al-Qaeda allegedly uses football to recruit new members

• Elye Wahi (Montpellier striker) wasn't fired from SM Caen's youth setup for physically assaulting a supervisor at the academy. Instead, after physical threats, he brought over some secondary school friends in the washrooms to undress and masturbate in front of him.

•A player pranked another player by introducing him to a minor and having him sleep with her

•Some clubs/players pay Transfermarkt to pimp their data

•The Arthur/Pjanic deal is illegal but no one did anything about it

•Well-respected French sports journalist, Bouhafsi, take bribes

•Racism from a French coach (Angers) who opened up a case against Molina

•Premier League has links with Chinese Triads presumably through betting websites

•Emmanuel Macron supposedly played a part in Benzema’s return to the French national team

•Didier Deschamps once intentionally injured one of his players

•An assassination attempt on a referee from Cyprus league (for match fixing) by planting a bomb in his car

• FIFA claims to push for women's football, but does very little to protect the girls/women from abuse. It's rampant everywhere, on a global scale.

• Morocco can 'shit on the ground' if they want, they have a large influence at CAF. They can 'do whatever they want'.

• In the long-term, Tony Parker should take over the OL Group.

• Kenya's FA has 16 bank accounts, including some 'hidden' accounts, when most FAs have one or two.

• Amiens (Ligue 2) is "a circus". On the way back from their away game at Ajaccio, everybody smelled like alcohol. The players love booze, shisha, drunken nights.

• After Senegal complained against an overaged player in a U17 African team they faced, the national team declared the player as 'deceased'. He is currently continuing his career in the U21 national team of the same country.

• East Timor eliminated Mongolia by paying Brazilian players to play for its national team.

• Friends of the former Algerian FA president are waging war against the current leadership.

• Mario Lemina received a handsome sum of money for representing Gabon. Other African players are also in similar positions.

• A Serie A club is involved in human trafficking but most Italian clubs are protected because of how many Italians work for FIFA

•Molina on PSG:

#arsenal fc #football #romain molina #PSG #megan rapinoe #USWNT #mufc #manchester united #chelsea #premier league #real madrid #ferland mendy #antoine griezmann #kylian mbappe #man city #benjamin mendy

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sgtjamesrogers · 2 years ago

Text

taps mic. please enjoy the sequel to the wip Wednesday that was actually many more moons ago than i realized. aka, 'hughie forces butcher to do an incredibly experimental treatment for his temp v brain holes, it's on maeve's farm in the kansas flint hills, abba is involved, there's pre-fic polyam negotiations, it's already named after a billy joel song.' i hate me.

He’s prepared to make some kind of smart remark, but any words on his tongue instantly evaporate as he watches Butcher slide slowly into an armchair facing the bank of windows. He’s limp like he’s shrugged out of the shell marked ‘stubborn bastard’ that kept him standing, and something about his beaten-down posture makes Hughie uncomfortably aware of how ill Butcher is.

“Jesus, you should have said something,” Hughie says as he rounds the chair, bending to look Butcher in the face as he clumsily seeks out the pulse in his wrist. “Maybe we should get started right now. Frenchie did say the sooner the better–”

Butcher gives him a worthless shove with a grunt. His pulse is fluttery and light, a wounded bird under his fingertips.

“If you try to get all McDreamy on me right now, I’ll take a shit in your suitcase when you fall asleep,” he says, though the heat in his words is like a fire flickering and dying rapidly under a harsh gust of wind. “I’ll make sure to get all of your pants, you’ll have to borrow some from Maeve’s lady, they’ll look like… those short pants that were big, back in the early aughts.”

Hughie lets go of his wrist with a sigh, sitting on the edge of the sturdy wood coffee table opposite the chair.

“You’d have to squat long enough to pinch one off without passing out, which is not a thing you can do right now,” he says, leaning back on his hands. “Plus you’ve been loaded up on painkillers for the last two weeks, you’re too constipated to even think about the phrase ‘bowel movement’. Also, for the record. They’re called capris.” He lets his head fall forward and tries not to yawn. Fuck, but he’s tired.

By the time he drags his chin up from his chest, he finds Butcher’s eyes on him, expression utterly unreadable.

He could ask ‘what is it?’, or even ‘is there something on my face?’ but instead he just looks back at him. Meeting Butcher’s gaze feels uncanny, like unbuttoning his shirt and offering a place between his ribs to stick a knife. He holds it anyway; gently, like something that might break rather than as a challenge. He’s pretty sure it’s only partially because Butcher couldn’t get out of the chair on his own, even if he tried.

Finally, Hughie asks, “You wanna go lay down?”

Butcher shakes his head, expression stymied.

“Just leave me here a while, I’ll get up in a minute.”

Hughie privately doubts that but he leaves Butcher to it, standing up from the coffee table and making his way to the french doors that lead out onto a small deck overlooking the pond. He can hear some sort of bird (or maybe several birds) cheep-cheeping back and forth from the loose ring of trees, and as a dry breeze tugs at the collar of his shirt and plays with his hair, Hughie feels his shoulders start to relax.

He throws himself into a tatty rattan deck chair, legs splayed as he fishes his phone from his pocket.

Oscar has landed in Grouchland! :)

He sends that sentence along with a picture of the pond as the sun slinks away from its high noon position to the group chat MM has set up in a secure messaging app. A handful of seconds later, Annie’s contact picture is lighting up his screen.

“Hey!” He exhales with something like relief, an uncontrollable smile stretching his face. “I wasn’t sure if you’d see that until later, I know you guys are in—“

“Dubai was a bust, actually,” Annie says before he can finish, but she doesn’t sound too upset about it. “Our transport chickened out on us, which I think Frenchie was fine with. He wasn’t too excited about the whole ‘parachuting in’ segment of the plan. So instead–” He hears a paper bag rustling from somewhere in the background, followed by the ambient noise of television at low volume. “- it’s butter chicken, garlic naan, and the last season of Fargo.”

Hughie can almost imagine it, as he sits back in the deck chair with the sun starting to bake him. The exact aroma of the butter chicken, the apple tv remote in his hand, curling on his side after dinner with his head in Annie’s lap while she plays with his hair. It’s not sadness he feels, exactly. He’s somehow a little shocked by it, that the wistful ache kneading his sternum like a friendly cat can coexist with his sharp desire to be here, twisting Butcher’s arm into recovery. Hughie supposes that two things can be true at once.

“Party foul, watching Fargo without me,” he teases, and warms again at the sound of her soft laughter.

“Make Butcher watch it with you,” she says, mouth half full. Hughie can picture the precise scrunch on her nose while she chews, like somewhere in her subconscious she can’t believe she’s talking with food in her mouth. He loves her so much it hurts. “How is mister grimy asshole doing?”

“Not great…” he mutters, twisting to look over the back of the chair into the bunkhouse. The reflection from the sun on the windows keeps him from seeing much beyond Butcher’s slumped form still in the chair, but it’s telling that he hasn’t moved. “He slept the whole flight, and then most of the drive. I barely got him to eat.”

Annie makes a hum that Hughie knows translates to, ‘I’m nervous, but trying to be optimistic.’

“Yeah, I know,” he says, voice still quiet like he’s in the room with Butcher. “I’m hoping once we get started…” “You haven’t done the first dose yet?” Her voice sounds clearer, a rustling of a paper bag as she sits upright. Hughie winces.

“He’s…” Hughie looks over his shoulder again; a reflex. Butcher bit his head off when he suggested it. Butcher will probably just throw it up with no food in his stomach. Butcher’s going to strangle him as soon as he has enough strength for it. “...really exhausted. I’m going to get him started first thing in the morning. It feels neater that way.”

“True,” she gives him, and she sounds about as put out as he feels. Or at least that’s what he thinks until she hums again. “So, are you going to tell him before or after he starts healing up?”

Hughie almost drops his phone.

“I’m, I don’t,” he splutters, fighting the urge to audibly gulp like he’s in a Looney Tunes cartoon, his palms suddenly beading sweat. “I don’t know that I really ever need to say anything.” He looks over his shoulder again, like Butcher will suddenly be looming over him and listening to their conversation.

“...uh huh,” is all Annie says, and there’s something sly in her tone that makes his ears burn. “If you say so. It’s no skin off my back to keep you to myself.” It’s the sort of casual approach she’s had since they talked all of this out; though he feels like he can trace it back farther, to waking up with a mile of stitches and both of them standing over him in the hospital.

When Hughie doesn’t respond, she softens her voice. “No matter what happens, he cares about you. In an ass-backward sort of way, but.”

Instead of responding, Hughie laughs softly instead and says, “You are so from Des Moines sometimes, oh my god.”

Because she’s an angel, Annie lets him do it and retorts with, “Ass-backwards is a very normal phrase! People say ass-backward all over the place, city boy.”

“Say ass-backward again,” he whispers, unable to keep a childish grin from spreading across his face. “Ass-backwards,” she says as seriously as possible, smothering a laugh. His heart thuds at the sound; a dog’s hindleg thumping uncontrollably as it’s scratched just right.

Annie stays on the phone with him for a little bit longer, chewing as she clicks through Netflix and tries to explain the plot of Dead to Me. Hughie swears he’s following along but realizes he’s having a hard time keeping his eyes open when she repeats his name a few times. “...Hughie? Am I lulling you to sleep?” She teases. “Maybe I just like the sweet sound of your voice,” he says, groaning as he pushes himself up and out of the chair. Without checking the time, it feels like four in the afternoon, which probably means it’s around three.

“Go take a nap, you sound like you need it,” Annie tells him, and when he promises that he will, they hang up.

Wandering back inside on stiff legs, Hughie finds Butcher still in that chair, and soundly asleep. Head craned back and to the side, his chest rises and falls slowly; a modicum of peace on his face. Hughie thinks that somehow he looks younger like this, the developing frown lines between his brows and at his eyes somewhat smoothed out, the tension in his mouth disappearing. And without anger in his expression, his dark dramatic brows give him a quizzical, almost sardonic look.

Not for the first time, Hughie wonders what Butcher was like, before. If he still had these jagged edges, or if some piece of him was irreparably broken away when he lost Becca. But, perhaps he’s always been this rough monument to brutalism and the ends justifying the means. After all, Becca isn’t exactly around to ask, and Hughie’s not even sure what he’d say. If she would have even liked him, seeing as they didn’t get much of a chance to interact in those bare days of her being alive.

Hughie hopes that she would have liked him.

Carefully finger combing dark hair away from his forehead, Hughie tries to gently cram a throw pillow from the couch between Butcher’s head and the back of the chair. It takes some maneuvering, but he manages to take the strain off of his neck. He yanks the plaid flannel from the back of the couch and settles it across Butcher’s lap.

“There you go, asshole,” he whispers, almost fond as he steps back to admire the effect.

Hughie knows he could poke around and find one of the bedrooms, but being too far away makes him feel uneasy. He pictures Butcher waking up and trying to go to the bathroom, only to crumple to the floor facedown, unable to call out loud enough to rouse Hughie. So instead, he kicks off his shoes and folds up on the couch after he sets a timer for six pm, letting sleep yank him away from consciousness for as long as he can afford.

#okay..... last wip update before i buckle in #the boys #butchie #is.... is that the name #also there is hughie x annie because hughie has two hands #hughie campbell #billy butcher #jesse writes fic

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ambiguouspuzuma · 2 years ago

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All things

Time healed all things. That was what people said, although they never really explored what it meant. There’s a grey area, isn’t there? A sort of Russell’s paradox. It isn’t clear what ‘all things’ includes. Only material objects, like cuts and bruises? Traumatic memories? What about fundamental dimensions of the universe?

What I mean to say is that... nobody mentioned that time could heal itself.

I'd had to travel for work before. There had been that contract in Dubai, spilling over into Abu Dhabi, and ultimately Sharjah. Sometimes the work travelled too. I just went wherever the client was, and they did plenty of globe-hopping themselves. The kind of guy who hires a security contractor is the kind of guy who gets around. People rarely want security for their own back yard.

But I’d only travelled across space, or forward in time. I’d never had to make a round trip through them both. In fact, I’d never even thought it was possible, outside of the kind of films I used to watch when I was growing up. I didn’t even believe it when he told me. In fact, I kept on not believing right up until it happened.

He’d arranged to see me like any other client. I received the usual message through a third party, a referral that vouched for both of us, and we set up a meeting in a covert location.

"Ms Filby, I assume?”

“Call me Sara,” I’d said, or would say. Would always have said. I don’t know. Being on this job was tense enough, without needing two tenses to describe it. But he doesn’t pay me for my words, so I guess I’ll borrow his.

“Sara.” He nodded at the courtesy, but didn’t offer up his own name. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“What’s the job?”

“Protection.”

“For you?”

“For my father.”

“Okay.” It wasn’t unusual for clients to send an intermediary. Sometimes it was their own internal security staff, which was always nice and awkward. “Protection from what?”

“That’s for you to find out.” He spoke as if each syllable bore a price.

“Has a threat been made against him?”

“He was killed. Last week.”

“What?” It wasn’t professional, but I couldn’t stop the word from slipping out. “Sorry, so you don’t want protection. You want me to investigate a murder.”

I didn’t waste his time by telling him to go to the police. My clients often avoided the attentions of the authorities, for various reasons. Being under threat didn’t make them innocent.

“No. I want you to stop it.”

From there, the words came more easily. Time travel wasn’t a concept to be captured in short, easy words. He didn’t even hold the whole thing in his mind. It had been his father’s invention, the device I used. That was probably what had got him killed: my first real lead, albeit one which led to many others. But I got the gist, even though it seemed like a fantasy to me. I took the advance, listened to the facts, watched as he fiddled with the sliders, and shook my head in disbelief.

Then I woke up last week.

The adjustment in my mind was the hardest part. The external stuff, the practicalities, were easy. In those childhood films, the time travellers had to go back decades, and there was a need to acclimatise to a different setting, or an act they had to put on to fit in. Stepping back one week required none of that. I simply found myself undone by my own incredulity.

People in my profession aren’t known for their open minds. We have to be sceptical, thorough, always focused on the job. We don’t daydream about fantasy scenarios, and our imagination is tasked only to assess hypothetical threats, sound out different angles and risks. We are uniquely prepared for any form of traditional assault, and uniquely unprepared for having our minds blown.

It took me a few hours trying to rationalise what had happened, checking the date again and again in disbelief, thinking I must be dreaming, drugged, psychotic, before I gave up. The world I thought I’d known had been flipped upside down, and nothing made sense, so I stopped trying to make sense of it. Instead, I focused on the one thing that had always grounded me. The job at hand.

Compared to contending with the nature of reality, solving the murder was easy. I followed the client a few steps behind - even if he had invented the machine, I didn’t know how he’d take to my explanation - and was there when the attack happened. It was a close run thing, without my usual team covering all angles, but I was able to intervene and save his life. He stared up at me, confused and shocked, and I left him with a smile. My part here was done. Now it was for him to go on with the rest of his life, never knowing he had ever died.

I was wondering if the device would now pull me back, or if I had to wait a week to catch up, when the second attack came. An attack I didn’t expect. They got him, that time, and I arrived embarrassingly late. Somebody identified me as the woman who’d saved his life, and the cops took me in for questioning, asking if I knew anything about the attackers. I confessed I did not, and was able to spin a story of half-truths: I worked in private security, had been hired to protect him. He wasn’t alive to refute that. I just had to hope they didn’t check my address.

I arrived back in the present day, apologised for my failure, and was send promptly back to try again. This time, I was able to learn a little more. I anticipated the first attack, captured an assailant alive, and interrogated him before the second strike came around. Then I rushed back to stop it, not wanting to return humiliated again.

Except that it had already taken place. I guess that abducting their man made them afraid he’d reveal their secrets, so they moved everything forward to pre-empt me. I arrived late on the scene, just as before, and had to answer the same annoying questions from the police: it was even more frustrating the second time, although at least I was able to polish my replies.

It went like that, again and again. I’d stop one attack, and another would simply take its place. It was like slaying the Lernaean Hydra. Sometimes a team would even come for me, after I’d shown my face in stopping the first two strikes, and take out the client at the same time whilst I was engaged. They weren’t stupid, and they had a whole organisation to work with. I just had one me - albeit dozens of times.

The loop just went round and round. I never got to finish it, once the week was done: it just sent me right back, like it was stuck on that setting. If I tried to escape, getting out of the city, it just sent me a week in the past there, with no hope of getting back in time to stop the murder. I couldn’t even manage the opposite, stopping myself from ever getting caught up in this mess. I didn’t seem to exist, and the client... well, he’d come out of nowhere. They usually did.

That left no option but to keep trying. I’d been sent back here for a reason, and if anything would get me out of the loop it would be solving the murder. If nothing else, maybe the client could help me figure it out. So I worked to stem the tide, to plug one leak, then another, then another. It was hard to say how long I’d spent working on this assignment. It had been one day, really. The same day, a hundred times over.

I began to think it was impossible. That one way or another, causality would always prevail. I considered that this was meant to happen, and I was striving against fate, rowing against the tides of destiny. Not that I let it stop me trying. I wasn’t the sort to bow to rules, legal or moral or otherwise. If I had a job to do, I would do it, and defy any governments or universal ordinance that said otherwise.

Then, when I had almost given up all hope, I succeeded. I covered all the eventualities. I stuck my fingers in all the leaking holes, took out all of the potential assassins before they could do up their shoelaces, kept my client safe from any accidents, had it all planned out. That’s when I became part of it. The assassins came for me whilst I was coming for them. The accidents found me instead, so that I couldn’t stop the next one. Fate always found a way. If I made myself the dam, it would find a way through me as well.

It started to feel like I was on the run. I’d identified myself as a roadblock in the universe’s chosen path, and now the whole world seemed to want me dead. My work had taken me outside of the law before - sometimes it was better than a would be assassin simply disappeared, so that his client's own affairs didn't come under the wrong kind of scrutiny - but those had been the mundane laws of man. The laws of nature were something else: tightly drafted, without loopholes, and judiciously enforced.

Que fue, fue. What was, was, and remained so. Time healed all things, but never before had it been wielded with surgical precision. Healing wounds before they had been made. I began to realise that my own life was forfeit. Forget about my client: I would struggle to make it back to the present myself. In all my skirting of the rules, I’d never been afraid of doing time, but now I realised the perils of undoing it. An instant death sentence.

I know that I, too, have become doomed.

That’s why I’m writing to you, my future self, to warn you. A handwritten note, left at the agreed meeting place, in the hope that you find it, or the client’s son replaces us with someone better. Perhaps greater minds than ours can figure this out. Perhaps you, or our replacement, can find a way to get the job done. To stop me coming in the first place. Or, if that’s not how this works, to come back and save me as well.

#writing #short story #creative writing #original fiction #original writing

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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Hungry Like The Wolf | soft!dark!Ari Levinson x reader

summary: when you need ari’s help for a secret mission with the CIA, he expects gratitude from you— and he wants a lot more than just a thank you card.

word count: nearly 6.5k

warnings: smut (dub con/coercion/sex as bartering tool), oral sex (f receiving) and vaginal sex, overstimulation, possessiveness/very very slight yandere vibes?, some violence and gun use, mentions of human trafficking/warfare, religious discussions and traditions but not particularly orthodox ones, vague discussions of sexism and misogyny with implied religious background, overall just lots of global politics and all that fun stuff

(a/n: I went ahead and wrote the hebrew and arabic in english lettering because tumblr doesn’t support right to left text so just a heads up. my arabic is very weak so I apologize if there are any errors.)

Taking a deep breath, you ran through your pitch in your head again. Sure, you’d had plenty of time to go over it on the plane, but one last recitation couldn’t hurt, right? Unable to stall any longer, you turned the knob and entered Ari Levinson’s office.

You’d heard he was good-looking but his appearance still surprised you; his long hair and thick beard made him look like he’d fit in with a rock band better than an intelligence agency, and his half-buttoned shirt put his Star of David necklace and muscled, hairy chest on display.

He must have caught your gaze trailing down because he smirked at you, making your cheeks feel a bit warm.

“Mr. Levinson,” you greeted as you looked up to his face again.

He greeted you as ‘Ms.’ instead of ‘Agent,’ but you let it slide since you were about to ask him for quite the favor. When he motioned for you to take a seat across from him, you did so with a nod and a quick smoothing of your skirt.

“So, what can I help you with?” he prompted.

This was the easy part; this was the part you’d rehearsed a thousand times. “There is a group of trafficked women and girls who have been rescued from all over— Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Kuwait— and gathered in Riyadh. We are working on a plan to move them to Cyprus and, eventually, Greece where they will be accepted into a camp there. Maybe they’ll end up in the States at some point, if we can swing it, but… Cyprus is step one.”

Ari nodded, listening to your story with more patience than anyone else had so far.

“As you can imagine, it would be a lot easier to move through Jordan and Israel and use your ports, rather than go around through Egypt or Syria…” He stared at you expectantly as you trailed off, and you cleared your throat before finishing: "The CIA would greatly appreciate Mossad's cooperation in the movement of these refugees."

"How much would they appreciate it?"

You paused, unsure what he meant. "Um, quite a lot, I'm sure…"

"I just mean that we have missions the CIA could be a useful assist for, too,” he clarified, interlacing his fingers and resting his hands on his lap. “You guys have a lot more resources than we do. If we help you out, is this going to be an allyship we can rely on?"

You swallowed dryly, pondering if there was a way to get out of this before you sighed and slumped down in your chair, leaning a little closer to him. "Alright, I have to be honest with you: it's not really the CIA that's asking for your help."

"Then who is?"

"Me. Just me. I'm the only one who believes in this mission; I'm the only one fighting for these people. The CIA won't help you because they won't even help me and I work for them."

He slumped his shoulders a little bit. "Then I'm not sure if I can afford to say yes to you."

"Please," you implored, "I know I can't offer you as much as they can, but I'll do whatever I can to make this work. Please," you repeated as you laid your hand over his, noticing the way his expression shifted a bit, "help me."

"I've been the one person fighting for a mission before," he remembered, voice a little softer. "I know how hard it is to go it alone."

You smiled gently at him.

"And, I know how far I would've gone to get my people to safety."

His hand flipped around suddenly and grabbed yours tightly, pulling you closer as you gasped.

"How far will you go?"

You shivered, the darkness in his eyes burning right through you even when you tried to look away. "Mr. Levinson, I—"

"Call me Ari," he instructed gruffly, grip tightening around your wrist until you yelped softly.

"Ari," you corrected, "I have money—"

"Don't want it."

"I can offer you my assistance in—"

"Don't need it."

"Tell me what you need,” you requested softly.

"I need to know you're gonna show me this 'great appreciation' you promised,” he answered quickly. “I need to know that if I take care of you, then you'll take care of me."

You gulped but nodded. "O-of course…"

"Good."

He released you from his grip and stood up, smiling at you like nothing had even happened.

"Pleasure doing business with you, madam."

You stood up and left his office in a haze, unsure if what had just happened was a dream or reality. But, sure enough, he showed up the next day where you’d told him to meet you, and brought some money and fake passports that you desperately needed. Frankly, just having a man around was going to make things smoother for you, even if it was a white man who didn’t exactly blend in by any stretch of the imagination. Seeing him again the next day only reminded you how big he was, tall but moreso heavy with muscle; he looked pretty cramped in his tiny coach seat on the plane to Dubai (your connecting stop where you’d spend the night before flying out to Riyadh).

“Bloody mary, please,” he requested from the stewardess with a gentle nod, turning to you.

“Uh, just water, thanks,” you ordered quickly with a tilted smile. You had brought a book to read, but Ari insisted on barraging you with personal questions about your job, your personal life, your favorite things— he seemed fascinated by the most mundane things, and disinterested in giving his own backstory.

Of course you considered that it wasn’t a great idea to tell him so much about yourself, let him in your head and under your skin. But then again, you’d put your trust in him enough for the mission, so you ought to trust him completely, right?

So why did his stare send shivers up your spine?

There was room for you and Ari at a CIA safehouse outside Dubai; it wasn’t exactly luxurious or anything, but at least you weren’t going to have to share a room… or a bed.

Normally staying in a safehouse meant sharing common areas with a random assortment of other agents, but it being a Friday night in Dubai meant they were all out enjoying the local nightlife while you two stayed in. Hoping to review a game plan for the mission with him, you found Ari’s door open, peeking around to see him on his knees on the floor, a candle burning before him, and his hands raised to cover his eyes and face.

“Shema Yisrael,” he sung to himself below his breath, “Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Ehad…”

He jumped a little when he uncovered and opened his eyes only to find you standing there. “Shabbat Shalom,” you greeted.

“Shabbat Shalom,” he nodded back.

“I’m sorry you’re forced to take your Shabbat alone,” you apologized, “and that there’s nobody other than me to appreciate your vocal chops.”

His cheeks tinged pink at that. “It’s all part of the sacrifices we make for our missions, eh?”

“Then I suppose you don’t mind that you’ll be doing plenty of work tomorrow,” you presumed.

“You probably realized by now that I’m not actually so traditional,” he chuckled, extinguishing the candle and standing up. “I work on the sabbath quite a lot.”

“I hear work is permitted if it is needed to save a life.”

He smiled, but he looked a little sad; maybe not sad, but tired. “With me, it always is.”

The silence was thick as you tried to reconcile that this was the same man that had grabbed and threatened you— was it a threat? You couldn’t even tell anymore. Apparently he wasn’t going to take whatever it was that he wanted until you’d finished the mission, and that should’ve made it easier to procrastinate your worry, but the extra time to ponder what it was actually going to be only brought further anxiety.

Of course, you had an idea of what he was going to ask of you, but the fact that nothing too untoward had happened in his office when you first met him was throwing you off. In that moment, you were just waiting for him to tell you to get on your knees and show him how bad you wanted these women rescued, but he didn’t. Wouldn’t have been the first time somebody tried to bribe you into sex; it would’ve been the first time, however, that you actually considered doing it.

Now, the anticipation just made it worse; you were working with him every day and he always acted normal, as if there wasn’t this looming threat of whatever favor he was going to ask from you in return.

Once you actually got to work the next day, it was easier not to think about that. You barely had any extra brainpower to think about anything except survival and extraction. Still, each time you looked at him only to find him already looking at you, your hands shook a little.

“You’ve been driving for 10 hours, you’re sure you don’t want me to take the wheel?” you offered, watching him blink a few times to clear his vision.

“Not worth getting arrested,” he frowned.

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“Not worth the risk of getting caught. And I don’t know about you, but if I get arrested here, I’ll probably be killed, too.”

You chewed your lip as you appreciated that it was probably worth avoiding as much trouble as possible. It’s not like the CIA was popular in these parts, either, and for good reason.

“What’s that up ahead?” he asked, leaning further forward against the steering wheel and squinting.

“Um,” you stalled as you unfolded the paper map in your lap, “I’m… not sure.”

“Looks like a barricade,” he announced, and it did; a gate with two guards and barbed wire on either side.

“There isn’t supposed to be a stop here,” you reminded him as you frantically shuffled around the map, making sure you were where you thought you were and that there wasn’t a mark indicating a vehicle stop on the road.

“What do we do?” he asked, looking around as if he was considering veering off the path even though that would be equally dangerous.

“There isn’t supposed to be a stop here,” you repeated, more anxiously.

“Well, there is,” he replied, his own agitation clearly increasing, “so we’ll have to go through it.”

“They’re going to pull us over.”

“Probably,” he admitted.

“And they will search the back of the truck.”

“I’d be surprised if they didn’t. How well do you think they’re gonna take it when they see eighty-something women packed like sardines?”

You chuckled a little even though you were anything but amused. “Um, not good.”

As the men at the stop waved to signal your car to slow down, Ari sighed a little. "I'll ask once again: what do we do?"

"Act natural," you suggested quickly as you lifted the scarf draped around your head to cover your nose and mouth.

Ari slowed down to a stop, lowering the window to talk to the officer outside and putting on a fake English accent. “How can I help you, sir?”

“Identification please,” he requested sternly. Ari smiled as he grabbed his and your passports, handing them over through the window. It was a long, awkward moment as he flipped through the thick papers slowly, his partner leaning down to look through your window but never taking his hands off his gun. “What brings you out here?” the man finally asked.

“My wife and I operate a restaurant in Jordan, and we get most of our equipment here because the workmanship is better,” Ari explained. “Just passing through with our new stoves and oven hood.”

The officer glanced back over your truck, his expression mostly unreadable but overall not necessarily friendly-looking. “Could you step out of the vehicle please?”

“Hal hdha daruri?” you asked quickly; Is this necessary?

“Alsamt,” he replied in a hiss; Silence.

Ari looked around like he was thinking but nodded and reached for the handle to his door. You did the same, the second guard stepping out of your way so you could swing open the rusted metal and step out.

The men guided for you to circle the car with them, stopping at the back and staring at the metal sliding door that was latched shut.

Turning to address Ari, the guard’s face dropped completely as he got a bit more serious. “What am I going to find in your vehicle?”

“Kitchen supplies, like I said,” Ari insisted.

As the officer reached for the latch on the back of the truck, Ari shot you a wide-eyed look and you gave him a quick nod. He lunged at the second guard, wrestling him for his gun while you went after the first, who was much easier to take down with him being distracted by trying to unlock the back of the truck. Your CIA instincts told you to shoot him once you’d grabbed his weapon, but thankfully you knocked him out with the butt of it instead.

Loud pops of gunfire beside you made you fear the worst, but Ari had managed to push the gun toward the sky before pulling it out of the officer’s grasp, swinging it wildly until it made contact with his head and he fell to the ground.

Gun in hand and panting heavily, Ari looked back at you with a grin. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“You almost got shot,” you reminded him.

“A little more than almost,” he corrected, showing you a gash where a bullet had grazed arm.

“Shit, Ari!” you yelped, running over to him and inspecting the wound. The way he looked down at you as you clutched him made you sort of regret it, though.

“It’s fine,” he assured you, but he made no effort to push you away.

“I… should check on the girls,” you decided, a little bit distracted but making your way back to the truck to roll up the metal back and examine the women inside, who looked scared at first but relaxed when they saw you.

“Kli shay' ealaa ma yaram,” you assured them that everything was fine, “nahn taqribaan 'iilaa al'urduni, wasawf nasil 'iilaa alsafinat allaylat.” We're almost to Jordan and will arrive at the ship tonight.

They relaxed a bit and smiled at you, a few muttered ‘shukraan jazilaan’s (meaning ‘thank you’) echoing from inside. You hated to shut the back and plunge them into darkness again, but they had assured you before that they would brave any conditions for a chance at freedom. You hoped they meant it.

“Please, let me drive, you’re injured,” you offered to Ari as he started to make his way toward the driver’s side door.

“It’s not even that bad, and we’ve had enough run-ins with the law today,” he dismissed.

“Then let me patch you up first, okay? Is that so terrible?”

He smiled a little. “No, I guess not.”

And that was how you ended up leaning on him in the passenger seat, supergluing his arm shut, trying not to think about how his bicep was probably bigger than your head.

“You’re a pretty good medic,” he observed, speaking quietly since you were so close.

“When you’re as clumsy as I am, you have to be,” you responded, sounding monotone due to focusing mostly on your work. “It shouldn’t scar too—”

You stopped when you looked up at him, because the way he was staring back down at you made you completely devoid of the ability to speak or even conjure words in your mind. You’d never seen him so close before and those piercing blue eyes made your head spin.

“What were you gonna say?” he asked softly,

“It… shouldn’t scar too bad,” you finished, “as long as you keep it clean and dry.”

“I generally aim to keep my entire body clean and dry,” Ari chuckled.

“Right, yeah, well— keep up the good work, then,” you stammered as you wrapped some gauze around his arm and rolled his sleeve back down over it.

“Let’s hit the road before we waste any more time,” he suggested, and with a nod you leaned back into your seat.

The radio blasting was the only thing keeping both of you awake as you drove through the dark. The border to Jordan was easy enough, and both of you sighed with relief as you crossed into Israel. It was by far the biggest blockade you’d seen so far, but of course, Ari got you in faster than you’d moved through anything else.

“Good to be home?” you asked when you saw Ari smiling as he looked around at the streetlights through the windshield.

“You could say that,” he answered. “Think we have time to stop for falafel before we get to the port?”

“Not unless you plan on buying for all your passengers,” you laughed, motioning toward the back. “If they have to wait until we reach the ship, so do we.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” he relented. “Besides, probably better to be seen by as few people as possible. Even if we’re in friendly territory, it’s still a covert operation and all.”

“Wow, so you do have some desire to play by the rules,” you gasped in faux shock. He smiled and shrugged a bit.

“More like the rules and my desires occasionally overlap.”

It was past midnight when you pulled into the port, surrounded by ships so big that you couldn’t see the tops of them from inside the car. A cargo ship was waiting for you, along with some Navy men who helped you escort the women onto the vessel.

Since it wasn’t meant to accommodate this many people, the refugees occupied extra crew space while you and Ari were given sleeping bags in an unused office; you were so tired, though, that it actually looked enticing.

As soon as you’d set your pack down and shut the door, you heard a distant horn and felt the ship begin to move. You let out a long sigh as you leaned against the desk, watching Ari take a seat in the chair and start laughing exhaustedly.

“We did it,” you smiled, “we fucking did it.”

“We’ve still got a long boat ride ahead of us,” Ari mitigated, “but yeah… we should be in the clear, and tomorrow afternoon we’ll be in sunny Cyprus.”

You were so elated from the high of a successful mission that you forgot to worry about Ari’s vague request all those weeks ago; it was probably the first time you hadn’t thought about it since then, truthfully. That changed when his smile fell as he looked up at you, eyes darkening a little and scanning your body.

“You’re a great agent,” he nodded slowly, “and an incredible woman. You saved a lot of people tonight.”

You shifted nervously under the weight of his stare, but tried to hide your discomfort. “I… couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I know,” he informed you coldly, standing up and approaching you. “I think I’ve gone above and beyond on my end of our deal.”

A pit formed in your stomach, growing with each step he took towards you. His eyes stayed trained on you except for when he glanced to the side to flip on the radio, American music suddenly piping through the speakers.

— discord and rhyme, I’m on the hunt, I’m after you…

You looked to the radio as well but his hand gently guided your jaw until you looked back at him; he was closer than ever, and you had to look up to meet his gaze, shivering as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip slowly.

“Are you good for your end of the deal?” he asked lowly.

And I’m hungry like the wolf…

You swallowed, hoping it would somehow ease the ache in your gut as you realized what was about to happen, before nodding meekly.

He smirked a little. “Good girl,” he praised, only a bit louder than a whisper, as his hand moved to cradle your face. “You want me, don’t you?”

Your brow furrowed as you tried to figure out how you were supposed to answer that. “I want to repay you, for all you’ve done for me.”

“No, not just that,” he disagreed, “you want me. I know you do. You don’t need to hide it, we’re alone…”

Hesitant but catching on to his desires, you nodded a little.

“Say it.”

“I want you, Ari,” you whispered.

It felt like forever waiting for him to kiss you as he leaned in slowly, eyes half-lidded and dark but never leaving you. As his lips brushed against yours, you finally let your eyes flutter shut and reciprocated his kiss. His hands felt especially big as one slipped behind your neck and the other rested on your waist; in fact, with the way you had to crane your head up to kiss him back, all of him felt big. Including the part you were pretty sure just bumped against the inside of your thigh.

His kiss was soft and patient but determined, slow but somehow still moving faster than you were ready for. You gingerly reached up and rested your hands on his shoulders; they were strong and warm beneath your touch, even through his shirt. You couldn’t think of the last time you’d been kissed like this, or held so tenderly like this, but then again, you were also sure that nobody had scared you like this in a long time, either. For a woman who always knew what to do in a dangerous situation, you couldn’t seem to get a read on Ari Levinson— mostly because you didn’t truly believe he was dangerous. But maybe you should.

When his hands reached up to start unbuttoning your blouse, you pushed him back a little.

"N-not here," you protested, "someone could hear, or walk in."

"There's nowhere else to go, and I'm not waiting 'til Cyprus. I need you now."

He kissed you again before you could respond, more forceful and desperate. You let him work open your shirt this time, his fingers dancing over your skin as he pulled it off your shoulders and tossed it aside. The feeling of him working your bra open made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but his tongue slipping into your mouth distracted you and before you knew it, it was gone as well. Your nipples hardened in the cold air— or maybe they’d been that way already, for whatever reason— but they reacted even stronger to his thick fingers gently pinching them as his palms cupped your breasts.

You gasped against his mouth a bit, your breathing getting heavier as he moved his hands down to your trousers. The idea of being naked when he was still fully-dressed scared you, but you didn’t have time to think about that anymore when he pulled back to drop to his knees, taking your pants and underwear to the floor with him.

He looked back up at you with a mischievous grin as you cautiously stepped out of them. After guiding you to sit up on the table, neither of you stopping to consider how rude it was to put your bare ass on somebody’s desk in a borrowed ship, he slowly parted your legs. As he kissed a trail inside your thigh, you felt your hands clutch the edge of the table tightly with anticipation. You felt so exposed with his face right there, to the point that your cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and yet you couldn't manage to tear your eyes away from his as he leaned in to lick you teasingly with the tip of his tongue.

"Fuck," you shivered, feeling your inner walls quiver as he moved so delicately. You kept waiting for him to really get into it but he was determined to stay gentle and slow, circling your bud for one glorious moment before stopping again. "Ari, please," you whispered without even realizing you’d said it.

"What do you want, baby?" he asked darkly, his voice deep and gravelly as he ran his hands up the back of your legs.

Your begging whimper was so pathetic you could hardly believe you were hearing yourself. "More, please…"

He dove right in after that, suddenly latching onto your clit and letting his tongue explore every fold, every wrinkle, every sensitive spot with thick, wide licks. Your head fell back and your hands jumped to weave into his hair— that gorgeous fucking hair that had driven you halfway insane. It was soft between your fingers, and in this light you could see the touches of red, blonde, and maybe even grey scattered into the brunette. Better yet was the way he moaned against you when you accidentally pulled it, your hands clenching into fists against his scalp each time he sucked on your clit just right.

"Ari, baby, fuck," you groaned, feeling your hips shift a little as if to try to get more of yourself in his mouth.

Sensation was sparking under your skin faster than you knew what to do with it, faster than you had ever figured out on your own, and definitely faster than anybody else had ever managed. You felt your body shaking and couldn’t suppress it at all, every part of you (inside and out) quivering uncontrollably. It would’ve been embarrassing except that he seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit, egging you on with his tight grip on your thighs, and his deep moans that reverberated over your body, and the way his brow furrowed like it almost pained him to see you like this. Your back arched so dramatically that he had to hold onto your hips tight to keep you in his mouth, but he managed to maintain what he'd been doing— in fact, he didn't stop even when you started to whine and cry, feet digging into his back as you tried not to explode from the overstimulation on your sensitive clit.

"S-stop, s'too much, can't take it," you pleaded, looking down at him.

He looked back up at you with dark, dilated eyes that said 'you're gonna take it.' His tongue lapped at you with renewed vigor, sending you tumbling over the edge again and again and again.

Tears were streaming down your face when he finally relented, standing up slowly and staring you down as he wiped his face with the back of his hand; your arousal had coated his mouth and most of his beard, too. You bit down on your lip to stop it from shaking as he slotted himself between your legs again, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and smiling as he watched your gaze trail down every inch of newly-exposed skin.

You knew he was in good shape, because it was always obvious, but you still shivered a little when you were greeted with chiseled muscles, dusty-blonde hair, a few stray freckles and scars, and last but not least, the gauze wrapping on his arm where you’d patched him up before. It was nice to see a piece of your handiwork on something so flawless, like how it must feel to design the frame that holds a Monet. Your mouth was even watering as you followed the trail of hair down to where it was interrupted by his jeans, which were misshapen with the unmistakable outline of his neglected cock. Either you could actually hear it throbbing, or that was just your heartbeat in your ears as he made a show of undoing his buckle and fly slowly.

A breath caught in your throat as he slid the jeans down and kicked them off with his boots, his cock bouncing up against the bottom of his abs once he’d freed it. You hoped to hide your intimidation, but you must have failed from the way he smirked and licked his lips as he stepped forward and pressed it against your stomach; you felt a little dizzy seeing the head of it reach past your bellybutton. "That's how deep I'm gonna be in you, baby."

For all his delicacy and tenderness in everything before now, he must have had a change of heart; with a little growl, he pushed all the way into you with one brutal thrust, watching darkly as your head fell back in a choked scream. He didn’t stop for very long, either, setting up a pace that was slow but unyielding, his length filling every part of you and then some with each slam of his hips into yours.

He grabbed your hair tightly and suddenly, pulling your head back to expose your neck to him. He licked and sucked along your pulse until you were shaking against him, nails accidentally digging into his shoulders a little bit as you held onto him.

His lips trailed up to pull you into a frenzied, sloppy kiss, your mouth slack wide for him to explore however he wanted.

"Tell me how it feels," he growled against your lips.

It feels like my body is on fire but I like it. It feels like you're shaping my insides to fit you exactly how you want. It feels like you might split me in half before you're done with me, but if you stop now I'll fall apart even worse.

His grip on your hair tightened at your lack of response. "Gettin' fucked too good to answer me, huh? So full of my cock you can't even speak. Is that right, pretty baby?"

You nodded as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, your hoarse moans and sobs muffled by his skin.

"Aw, poor thing," he purred, wrapping his arms around your back. His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke to you in a deep mumble, the bass of his voice sending shivers down your spine with each word. "You don't have to tell me, I know how it feels… you're so wet that you're fucking dripping, your needy little pussy is clamping down on me like it's the end of the fucking world, and you're screaming for me so loud I bet half the ship can hear you. I know how it feels, baby; it feels so good that you're already about to come for me."

You gasped as he pushed you to lay back on the table, hoisting your legs up over his shoulders; you felt a bit whorish seeing your legs up in the air like that, especially when he leaned to the side to plant a wet kiss on your calf.

Soon he was letting your legs slip back down to his hips, leaning over you and caging you in with his thick arms, watching your face as he started to fuck you harder. His long hair was at risk of tickling you as it fell down beside your face, but it was that Star of David necklace that was dangling from his neck and swinging right in your face with every thrust. Slightly annoyed by it hitting your face from time to time, you stuck out your tongue to catch it, holding it between your teeth and finding that biting down on it helped you cope with the slight pain of him so deep inside you anyways.

"Baby," he moaned, inspired by the sight to grab your hips even tighter and slam into you even harder. "Fuck, I'm close," he hissed. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby, gonna ruin you for anybody else, huh?"

"Yes, Ari," you whimpered. "I'm close, too…"

"Go ahead, pretty girl, wanna feel how tight you get when you come— when I make you come."

Trying to hold it back only made it hit you harder, and as your moans grew louder and your body began to shake, you felt your walls flutter and flex intensely. He pulled his necklace out of your mouth and kissed you suddenly; it kept you grounded as you feared that the rest of you would float away, lost in pleasure so thoroughly that you'd never come back to reality. His moans mixed with yours as they moved between your tongues, and just when you thought you'd break into pieces if he didn't slow down, you felt his movements stutter and his cock pump inside you. You couldn't feel the warmth of it because you were already so hot all over, but the way his cock swelled as he came was unmistakable and overwhelmingly erotic.

He broke the kiss but didn't pull away, catching his breath while he stayed inside you, resting his forehead against yours.

After cooling off for a moment, he scooped your limp body into his arms and lifted you into his chest; you wrapped around him and let him carry you to the other side of the room where he set you down on the pallet sleeping bags and blankets. You whimpered as he pulled out, his softening cock still big enough to make you wince. The gush of warm, sticky come made your cheeks burn even if it also sent a dulled tingle of arousal up your spine. He was gentlemanly enough to wipe you off with a towel, mumbling something about how pretty you looked stuffed with his come, but you couldn't really focus on any of that because you were still waiting for sensation to return to your numbed extremities— brain included.

He turned his head and laid it on your chest, and you found yourself absent-mindedly scratching his scalp with your nails.

"That's nice," he whispered, but you could tell that already by the way his skin was erupting into goosebumps, and the way he held you tighter.

You must've laid like that for hours, or maybe it was just a few minutes, but it was one of those moments that felt like a piece of forever. He lifted his head to look up at you, pulling you down a bit so his face hovered over yours.

"What's next for you after you get these women to Greece?" he asked quietly.

You chewed your lip as you thought about that. "Back to DC, I figure, and then wherever they send me next. I hear they might want me undercover in Cuba or Russia…"

"How often do you end up in Jerusalem?"

You squirmed a little beneath him, but he slipped his arm under your neck and pulled you closer; how were you supposed to think with his bicep right by your face like that? "Uh, not often, but if I'm in town I'll give you a call—"

"Come with me," he requested softly. "Get to Cyprus, go to Greece, and then meet me in Tel Aviv."

"Ari, I can't—"

"Why not?"

You laughed a little, but he clearly wasn’t joking. "Because I have a job?"

"You won't need a job," he shrugged, "I make good money and you can just live with me."

Your throat went dry as you stammered, trying to figure out if he had seriously just asked you to quit your job and move in with him.

"You'll like Israel. You speak some Hebrew don't you?"

"Uhh, yeah but—"

"Then what's stopping you?"

You couldn't answer because you didn't even know where to start with all the things that were stopping you. Your mouth opened and closed silently like a fish out of water, and he laughed at you lightly.

"Just say yes," he encouraged gently, and your heart twisted as you wondered if this was part of the deal, if you needed to do everything he wanted to keep him on your side. You were on an Israeli ship, sailing international waters; if he changed his mind now, he could still sell you out and have these people arrested or worse. But he wouldn't do that, right?

Perhaps the more important question was not 'would he do that?' but rather 'are you willing to find out?'

"Yes," you heard yourself answer before you even realized you were considering it.

He grinned, hugging you tightly. He was already rambling about how great it was going to be and how he would spoil you all the time and maybe find a way to get you hired as a contractor at Mossad so he could bring you along on missions, but you couldn't hear it past the ringing in your ears. You desperately needed sleep, and his arms were warm and welcoming as you drifted off. He kissed your forehead before letting his eyes fall shut as well, joining you in unconsciousness.

The swaying of the ship was like being rocked to sleep, so much so that you slept for an uncharacteristically long time: you were just a few hours out from your destination when you awoke, in fact.

Instead of getting up and attempting to acquire some food, you laid there staring up at the ceiling as his heavy arm draped over your chest. Even in his sleep he had power over you, refused to let you go. You tried to remember how you'd ended up in this situation but instead you found yourself fantasizing about a chance at love. After running around the world for so long, there weren't many good men left to settle down with. And Ari was maybe not an entirely good man, but you believed him when he said he would treat you well. You'd shacked up with a lot worse in your time, when you were young and reckless and thought the worst thing you could be was alone. Still, a long-suppressed desire for companionship was awakening in your mind and you weren't going to swallow it back down this time. Smiling, you lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles. If what he wanted in exchange for his cooperation was your affection, you could do that.

#ari levinson x reader #dark!ari levinson x reader #ari levinson smut #chris evans x reader #ari levinson x you

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miekasa · 3 years ago

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Help, rich guy Eren and Connie would be spend now think late, it’s the package delivery serotonin rush 🤩 I feel like rich guy Jean is the type to also be big on the whole wooing romance thing (I would pass away with embarrassment sometimes because he goes overboard). Like less dumb spendings, still with his fair share but not as much as Eren or Connie LMAO. And aesthetics. Yes they are important to Jean 😌

Rich Guy Levi, now he would def be the more rational and reasonable type, with a lot less frivolous spendings. But I also feel like he’s the type to pay for a new apartment lease and put down a year’s worth of rent if it means helping you move to a better living space 😭

Connie and Eren: young, dumb and rich

Jean: young and rich... slightly less dumb (slightly), more chivalrous

Levi: rich and above all, very wealthy, but it’s crazy how well he keeps it hidden

Okay, no, I’ve talked about Eren a bit, and I’ll touch on the other two later, but rich kid Connie is the epitome of that one audio/skit on TikTok: Connie shows up randomly in the middle of the day while you’re chilling, invites himself into your humble little apartment, and pouts dramatically, “My hook up just called it off. Do you want to go to Italy with me for a month?”

And you just gotta kind blink like, “Connie... I... I have work.” Like every other person on the planet.

“Hm,” he hums, taking the liberty of flopping on your couch before genuinely questioning, “And that's, like, a for sure thing?”

“Well, yes—it’s how I pay bills and rent.”

He sits up now, crossing one arm over his chest, and bending the other atop it, his pointer finger and thumb resting under his chin, “If you don’t mind me asking, how much do you make in a year?”

If it were anybody else, you would mind, but you know Connie; and you know he’s fabulously oblivious to these things, and that he genuinely means no offense in his inquiry, so you answer earnestly, with shrugged shoulders: “Maybe $35k a year...?”

Connie’s eyebrows crinkle together for a moment, then his whole face lights up like he’s struck gold. He moves his hand away from his face in favor of pointing his finger in your direction before announcing his offer, “If I gave you $50k right now, will you go to Italy with me for a month?”

You try not to let the surprise take over your face, because, really, you should be used it by now. Money clouds his mind, but not in the typical way, he’s far more generous than he needs to be in his position; finding the right balance between flaunting his worth and using it beneficially. In this case, to your benefit.

Though, you’re certain his argument is that it benefits him, too. If he takes away your problems, you can spend time with him; and subsequently, that will solve his newfound loneliness. So, you sigh and smile foolishly, “Sure, yeah, that would work.”

“Great, that’s perfect! I’ve already got the jet ready to go, I’ll help you pack, or we can just buy some shit there,” and Connie smiles big and wide, both rows of teeth on display. There’s light in his eyes when he scoots forward to place his hands on your shoulders and pat them gratefully, “Thanks, you’re a great friend, you know?”

“I don’t know if that makes me a great—” you cut yourself off; that’s a conversation that would take him far too long to comprehend by normal people standards, so you save yourself the trouble; instead, reaching a hand to wrap around one of his wrists, because who are you to turn down a new wardrobe full of clothing, “We’ll talk about it on the plane, Connie.”

(He ends up sending you $100k half way into your impromptu vacation because he wants to go to Dubai the following month).

#anonymous #the way im gonna spread him on a bagel like butter.... GODD HES SO SEXY TO ME #reckless and rich and dumb and endearing my favorite conversation #this is also eren except eren isnt really asking lmfao #connie x reader #connie springer x reader

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ncdyc · 3 years ago

Photo

ANYA & NADYA’S *NEW* TOKYO APARTMENT

nadya is no longer sharing a one bedroom shoebox apartment with her occasionally difficult to deal with sister yay !

this is not a task, i just wanted a record of this on the blog instead of just discord don’t mind me, i like world-building.

CONTEXT: originally nadya had forgotten to have a unit set up for herself in tokyo when she returned to the program. anya offered to share hers before nadya could go invade alexei’s spare room (the czar gotta have at least 1 right?) and looked hurt when nadya seemed reluctant, so my girl took one for the team and found herself sharing a bed with the 1 sibling she barely knows and isn’t comfortable with. nadya is the unassuming lynchpin of the romanovs, it is her role to bridge gaps between the older ones without seeming to.

by the time the staff had empty units ready, nadya had discovered that anya needed a counterweight, and that firmly remaining in a space to have difficult conversations where anya might isolate the most was better for everybody in the grand scheme of things, especially with alexei’s recent decisions. thus she has conned anya into moving into a 3 2 bedroom apartment with her. kostya believes this is a terrible mistake.

DESIGN: the apartments in the building are japanese style: smallish, basic, minimalist and functional. nothing was structurally changed (not the wood or the build in stuff), besides two walls of the third room being traded out for clear soundproof glass. the rest are pieces and elements nadya chose to furnish the apartment with occasional input from anya, which she mostly elected to ignore aside from the request that as much light is let in as possible. the walls are white/grey with cement accents and of course, black appliances.

PIC 1:

on the left, sliding glass that opens out onto the balcony and the pretty view. comfy plush outdoor furniture not pictured. nadya occasionally plays music there.

the side of the cement pillar facing the camera has steampunk metal motorbike sculptures mounted. i tried to edit well, but failed so just pretend they are 3D metal pieces and look aesthetic and cover more of the pillar.

the side of the cement pillar facing the kitchen has polaroids nadya collected (or had sent from irinka) of anya and irina as teenagers, kostya and nadya, alexei and kostya, and bb nadya sitting on teen alexei’s shoulders.

we’re going to pretend the back of the sofa (and whole floor space) is closer to the back of the kitchen counter stools than pictured. there is no sun-roof because they are not on the top floor.

the sliding doors on the right, it’s clear glass that doesn’t slide instead of the wooden framed tampered glass. it is the soundproof clear glass box nadya had fitted for anya’s shouting matches with nobles in russia on video conferences or particularly tense meetings with her team. there are shutters inside the glass, but they are rarely used.

to the far side of the couch, apartment entrance. diagonally behind the camera is the little hallway that leads to 2 bedrooms. anya’s room is bigger, but nadya’s is cosier, darker and comfier with mood lighting.

PIC 2:

i have nothing to say other than there aren’t so many identical white tea/coffee cups.

PIC 3:

the main piece of art in the apartment. it covers the wall diagonally opposite the sofa. it looks like it was printed/painted onto the wall. nadya splashed some gold splotches over it and also over layed the cracks on the sculpture with gold. i tried my best to make it look nice on ps but i am lazy, pretend the splotches are cool.

OTHER DETAILS:

not pictured are the bar cart (from the dubai apartment) kostya’s fave leather chair from nadya’s dubai apartment also and kostya & nadya’s work murder board that is cleverly kept out of anya’s sight.

#tokyo hc.#tokyo apartment.

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natromanxoff · 4 years ago

Text

I wasn’t sure about posting this at first but as it is already shared publicly and I have come across with it on Pinterest, I decided that it would be okay. So here is a story of a fan about Jim Hutton:

“ON 23rd of March, there was a Queen Tribute band concert in Goresbridge and my boyfriend told me that Jim would come as well. He admitted that he had arranged with Stephen for Jim to come along. The concert was in the pub called The Spirit Store. What a great name for spiritual meeting, I thought. When I entered, Jim sat at the table with Stephen, Jascqueline, her sister Valeria and other family friends. There was nowhere to sit, so we just stood by the table for a while. When I looked at Jim, he appeared somewhat fragile and tiny, like a man who could easily be overlooked. He didn´t look anything like those photos portraying him in the books.

After a while, there was a free seat by the table and everyone, including Jim, moved in order for us to sit down. It was just one place and my friend Mike wanted to take it. He got up fast but they all stopped him. Jim measured Mike up and down and told him, "Perhaps you should let the lady sit here, you cavalier!" Embarassed, Mike got up from his chair and offered it to me. I got the honorable place alongside Jim. Being a woman sometimes has its advantages! Jim welcomed me with heartfelt "Hi". At first I was nervous, but after a while I felt relaxed and enjoyed Jim's company. I was aware of his behavior, gestures, laughter, and tried to absorb his energy all at once. It was easy to talk to him about anything and everything.

I wanted to know the man Freddie loved so much, so I guess I started giving him many questions.

"Jim, are you still in touch with Phoebe?" Jim looked at me closely and began to talk to me with interest. "I haven´t really been talking to him for a long time. I know he had a hotel in Dubai, then he sold it, and he's in Prague now. He also bought something overthere and I think he's going to settle down there." When I heard about Prague, I jumped up excitedly and told him that I was from there. He smiled a little, though the coincidence like this didn´t overwhelm him as much as me.

He relished glass of Budwaiser and smoked Ultra light Silk Cuts. He offered me one and lit it up for me like a real gentleman. It seemed he wanted to continue talking. We both made fun of the ultralight effect of his cigarettes, which would probably piss off every orthodox smoker, Freddie for sure! He then demonstrated jokingly, how to properly smoke them. He inhaled all the smoke by sucking in his cheeks and widening his eyes, as if he should soon burst like an inflated toad. None of us resisted and we both burst into a mad laughter. I told him about my visit to Munich and meeting Barbara. He smiled and listened, then he rolled his eyes up to heaven and stated that she is one hell of a crazy woman. I totally agreed, and added, that also alcoholic one. It was surreal to talk about mutual aquaintances together, people we both knew. I also mentioned my visit to New York club and I could see how he returns nostalgically into his memories. Then I also tried to make him remember my friend Allison, who told me about him in the first place.

"About nine years ago she visited you in London". He couldn´t remember and admitted, that since then a lot of people have passed through his life and many of them he never saw again.

I continued. "She showed me several of your photos and in one of them you were holding Freddie's portrait that you bought at the auction". Suddenly he jumped up and said he knew whom I mean.

I showed him my miniature box containing a stone and talked about it with almost patriotic pride. "It's a stone from Logan Mews that I had to dig out from under the threshold of his house, because there was nothing else to take." Jim laughed out loud, this time without any hindrance and doubt that I was totally crazy. I also laughed because I knew I sound like nuts. He remarked with smile from ear to ear that I was pretty crazy. "Yeah, I'm crazy, and I'm proud to be. Who isn´t...and by the way.....why not?" I smiled at what I just said, because that´s what Freddie would say, to defend himself. Jim then talked about the medallion that Freddie had given him for his birthday. He said, there were three miniature pictures inside. "The first is that of Miko ", he said gently, looking up at me to make sure I knew who he was talking about. "In the other one is Freddie" ... he continued with kind of fervor and love. Something deep inside me shivered. "In the third one," ... he didn´t answer yet, when I jumped into his monologue ...."Tiffany," I blurted out.

"My mom's photo," he finished his sentence. (and I prayed he didn´t register my answer).

It was nice to hear him remembering like that. He opened up in front of me the way I never dreamt of. I think it was nice for him to share these beautiful moments and to talk about things that meant so much to him. "This rock is my good luck charm. I have been listening to Queen since I´m twelve and I also work in the Fan Club's office. We celebrate his anniversary every year. When I went here, I was kidding with my friends that I might meet Jim Hutton in Ireland... and here you are, sitting right next to me. That´s my dream come true", I said all emotional.

"How do you know Stephen?", he inquired after while.

"I go out with Vinnie and they are good friends" He eyed my boyfriend and indicated that he knew who he was.

"I was annoying the two of them and was constantly asking them to bring you", I smiled.

"Oh, Jacqueline wanted me to come, alright" Jim smiled at the thought. Then he talked about the music talent competition, in which they were selecting the best imitators of Queen.

"What music are you actually listening to?" I wondered.

"I have no favorite, I'm listening to almost everything. Even a radio".

"And do you still have Zig and Zag?"

He only sighed and said in a sad voice that they had both died since then.

"And do you have any other cats?"

"Yeah, I have seven others now," Jim smiled. This number didn´t surprise me. The old habits are hard to kill.

"Do you still keep up the gardening, Jim?"

"Constantly," he said with a loving smile and amusedly showed me his hands dirty from the clay and covered in sores. For God's sake, he must have been gardening a few minutes before going to a concert!, I thought to myself. A complete garden maniac.....

We were joking on the account of the band that was supposed to start playing long time ago, but somehow did not. He told me it would be nice to get drunk, so we didn´t know how terrible they were. That really made me crack up. He could be so funny.

He joked and emphasized to everyone around the table, that instead of a concert he could have been at home watching his favorite movie. In the same breath, he admitted that he was curious about their performance and that he hadn´t been out in ages.

He leaned over to me and confessed, that now he lived a life completely cut off from the rest of the world.

"We are basically the same, I am basically like him. Now I just enjoy loneliness and privacy. I don´t go out anywhere except my garden". I immediately knew whom he was referring to in his speech.

I said that I had discovered his house in Palatine and apologized when I saw his slightly concerned look. I said I was just little curious.

He then recalled a few of his encounters with the fans. One day there was an unknown car with a couple of strangers that arrived to his house. They came all way from Vienna and they found him by questioning people in a town! Not a hard thing to trace him, he said, as every cab driver in the area knows him pretty well. One local newspaper even published a photo of his house, and although they gave a wrong address, a lot of people had found him.

That made me laugh, because I knew what it means to be a devoted fan.

"On the other hand, it's nice to know that someone is constantly looking after you and giving you the feeling that all this is still alive," I added with a smile.

"Jim, do you still have your Volvo?"

"You mean the one that Freddie gave me?.....No, I don´t have it few years now, I´ve swapped it for a new one," he smiled.

He was all too gallant all the time, always lighting my cigarette.

He also wondered how long I would stay in Ireland, so I said that only another half a year.

"And you wanna come back here?" He asked suddenly.

"Oh, I'd love to. I'm trying to find a job either in Carlow or Kilkenny," I said enthusiastically.

Then I fell silent, looked at him and assured him "Definitely."

Each time he looked up into my eyes, I saw an incredibly nice person in front of me. Something in his silent expression suggested that he had suffered great deal of pain in life, but that he was now completely reconciled with his fate. Still, in his eyes shone a spark of unrelenting humor. In his company I forgot all about the world. I was happy to be able to make such an affluent and warm contact with him. The longer we knew each other, the closer we were.

When he wanted to go to the toilet, Stephen told him that the men's toilets were behind the bar and the ladies in front of the bar. It sounded like he wasn´t quite sure which one would Jim prefer.

But Jim didn´t care much and set off to the men's. I admit it made me laugh a little.

Then we continued our dialogue. I mentioned that I read both his and Phoebe's book, but that I couldn´t find his book anywhere in the stores. He confirmed that it´s out of print at the minute.

When I told him that I had stolen his book at the local library, he laughed and said that I should have asked him and he would have given me a copy, but he only had Italian version.

Finally, the band started to play. Everyone in the pub stood up and whole lot of us - as we were tucked in at the back, climbed onto the window ledges. I stood next to Jim, who remained seated.

He looked a little bit run over. I knew he was surrounded by the loneliness and I watched him with sadness. I lacked much power or words to comfort him. It was only after some wonderful songs that we both joined and got up. He could not remain sad in such a loving and friendly company for ever.

When he noticed the enormous, life-vibrant energy that only Queen music could produce in conjunction with a crowd of people singing, I think he forgot his personal pain. I could see pride in his face. He stood up and watched the band. Then he addressed me and made me come up onto the ledge above him to see better. I would not listen to anybody else, but from him it didn´t sound like an order. He wanted me to get the most out of it and it pleased me. Then we sat back and drank. Jim seemed to be getting cheerful and livelier. The more he drank, the more cheerful he was. The guys ordered him Red Bull with vodka. When I asked him if it was vodka, he claimed it was white lemonade! He put a warm glass of "vodka" on my hand, so I almost jumped out of my skin, which he thought was terribly funny.

Whatever he did, he looked at me as though I was the only person who knew what was behind his looks. His faces and funny grimaces reminded me of Freddie. He had a lot of subconsciously inherited poses and gestures from him. Even in his laughter I could detect an influence of Freddie's strong personality. He simply marked all people around him. It was not the same contagious and stormy laugh, but there was a spark of resemblance.

His niece Jacqueline, Valerie and Stephen, danced all the time on the ledge and Jim was pulling them and wrapping himself in between their legs, hugging them, clinging to them, and messing around like a little boy. It was a wonderful sight, as he was so happy and childish.

After some time, Jim lost himself in a crowd of concert goers, so I went to look for him. Without his company it felt such a sad place. It was as if he had fallen through the ground, which made me very nervous. Finally, I found him by the entrance table, where he was joking away with one old blonde, not too different from frivolous Barbara Valentin. I asked him for a photo together. At first he looked impenetrable but as soon as I threw a sad eye and smirked, he brightened up and agreed as if saying "You know you can, anything for you, darling"

His niece Valerie took our picture. He then whispered to me that he hopes I´ll send him some pictures later.

After that he announced that we are going back inside to listen to the band.

I saw them from close-up and I must say that it was much better to just hear them. They looked rather too comic with all their wigs. It was something that would make Freddie laugh too.

I told Jim that they don´t look very natural,which he agreed with, but he said he couldn´t complain about their music. He was totally right, because musically they weren´t bad and the singer had a very authentic voice.

Inside, everybody was dancing and Jim joined in and circled around them like a rogalo.

The whole pub vibrated with intense and loving energy. There was no one who would be bored. Jim then threw himself in the arms of his two nieces, who gently caressed him in his hair and embraced him. He let them take care of him, now vulnerable like a little lost child all of a sudden.

There was something deeply touching about it. He had closed his eyes and sadly lowered his head, as if his tears flowed deep inside, in his invisible world. I realized at this stage, how much he really loved Freddie. I was looking at him and I had a desire to caress him and comfort him but instead, I had to stand aside.

"You can have everything and yet feel alone", Freddie once said. But I was glad Jim had his family and friends around him, who cared and protected him. Jim was going through sorrow and joy,both at the same time, it seemed.

During one of his many shananigans, I caught him messing around with his niece's boyfriend.

He sat him on his knees and imitated sexual intercourse. It would seem offensive and utterly crazy to someone who didn´t know him. But we all did. Jim was laughing like crazy and when he finally looked at me, he seemed a little embarrassed by his behavior and gave me a look that said"I hope you won´t tell on me to Freddie"...but it was hard to take him seriously.

We both smiled conspiratorially at each other. In that sense, our relationship no matter how short-lived, was special. We understood one another in thoughts. He winked at me a couple of times, tapping my beer like an old buddy.

In one moment in particular, Jim leaned over me and whispered: "You as a fan have right to be crazy, but them" ... pointing at our dancing group of friends ... " they are fucked up", he said with smile and he began to knock his finger against his forehead. An international gesture that doesn´t need an interpreter!

Jim then went to the toilets for a while, and I, like a stray sheep, followed him through crowds of oblivious dancers. He was somewhat drunk at that time and barely retained a balance. He staggered a little like a broken tree. No surprise after god knows how many Red bulls and vodkas! I was bit afraid for him, so I supported him inconspicuously by both shoulders from behind. He went to the toilet and cared too little to even close the door behind him. If anyone was looking, he would see Jim Hutton pissing in a toilet bowl in his bright canary shirt.

At that moment they played the most touching song of all, These are the Days of our lives .... I stood by the door and listened, watching the band and waited for Jim. I don´t know why, perhaps because of the fate that brought me here, I suddenly felt terrible sorrow. I was sorry for Freddie and Jim. Tears poured into my eyes. I didn´t cry, but was very close to it. Jim suddenly appeared next to me and noticed my face. "What about those tears? I hope you don´t cry", but at this stage I was lost for words. His concern made me sad even more. Something inside me forced me to caress him. I hugged him gently around his neck and put my head on his shoulder for a moment. I wanted to let him know that I am very sorry about what happened to Freddie. He did not resist. He knew he wasn´t the only one in the world who was missing him. I looked into his eyes, and I told him a sentence that I didn´t know why I said, but I strongly felt it..."Jim, he's here, he IS here." His expression was rather confused at first. "Do you believe me?" ... I said this with a seriousness and a certain degree of self-assurance that he froze for a while. He looked thoughtful. He knew what I was talking about.

I seemed to only confirm his inner conviction. He didn´t say a word. He wiped my tear away with the edge of his hand and without warning, took me firmly by the hand and led me through crowds back to our friends. There was a lot of care and love in his touch. The music was just playing and Freddie just sang "I still love you" and I knew he did.

I didn´t want to leave, but I knew I said everything I needed to. I could not leave without saying goodbye. It would be a sin after all this to just disappear into eternity. I interrupted him from the conversation with someone else, leaned over the table and said, "Jim, I'm leaving now, so I want to say goodbye, it was great pleasure meeting you." I smiled as much as my heart allowed me to and shook his hand. He stared up and thought for a moment, and then, without any hesitance said, "We do not see each other for the last time." I didn´t know at this time how true his words were.

I thought I did not understand well, so I asked again, "sorry?" and he repeated patiently and more resolutely, "I shall surely see you again," while taking my hand into his hands and kissing it gently.

He left me in amazement. I stumbled out from there perplexed but still I could hear him talking about me to someone there. He probably said he hadn´t seen a bigger nutcase in a long time, assuming from his cute teddybear smile. Gosh I loved him so much!

The next day I learned from my friends that Jim was looking next morning for his jacket that he had forgotten in his car. Few days later, I've sent him the promised photographs. Jacquie confirmed that he called in to say he had received them allright.”

2001

“...And then I returned back to Ireland in 2004.

I had the opportunity to welcome Jim to my own home in Carlow sometime in 2006. He was Stephen´s surprise. When the door opened up, I didn´t see him at first.

Then his head popped out from the side of the door and with a laugh he emerged a bit later. He hugged me like we hadn´t seen each other for million years. What I felt at that moment was indescripable. My dear Jim back in my life and in my own house!

We all sat in the living room, Jim settled down on the sofa, I was sitting on the ground and absorbed the precious moments because I knew time spent with him was only borrowed time. Then we watched Queen videos and talked about Freddie as if he were in the next room. It was so surreal. Me and Jim agreed that our favorite video was Scandal, and he just added that Freddie didn´t like it very much because he couldn´t make any creative input in it, although he loved the song.

Then we talked about his illness, about him taking up to 40 pills a day to sustain his health and he also explained the difference between AIDS and HIV, as many people still didn´t know. We have talked so much and - above all - we laughed all night, almost at everything. It was so easy to succumb to his funny personality once again and to his heartfelt laughter. He made jokes about fancying my ex-boyfriend, whom he lied on top of on the sofa. Long time ago, I´ve sent him a letter explaining to him how Freddie has impacted my life. But I've forgotten I´ve ever written it and now I was faced with the horror that I actually have sent it. I hoped he has forgotten about it, but when Jim and I met in the corridor of our house, I couldn´t but apologize to him for that letter, and for being so daring. To my surprise, he looked at me softly with his tired eyes and assured me that my letter was absolutely fascinating. Then we were interrupted by Stephen, who was just leaving a toilet and the conversation was cut short at that point. Unfortunatelly I would never have the chance to find out what was the next thing he was about to say, because I noticed he wanted to continue, if he weren´t interrupted.

When we were saying goodbye at the door, he treated me as an old friend. He simply kissed me on the lips, which utterly shocked me and made me laugh at the same time.

He invited us back to his house to have a little party, but my ex-boyfriend was not in the perfect mood and so we politely declined, which I will forever regret!

About a year after that I bumped into Jim several times in the city where we both lived, or we exchanged text messages whenever I needed to advise what room flowers would be best for our new house. Sometimes I learnt about how he´s doing through my ex-boyfriend, who used to hang out with him and drink few pints in a night bar. Once my ex confessed how Jim told him that I was a great person and he should be happy to have me. They must have been talking about me!!!!

Then I met Jim one night in the nightclub, where he was with his friends. He spent most of his time sitting in the lounge smoking a cigarette, having fun with younger girls. Wherever he was, you heard his laughter. That night my ex-boyfriend arranged for Jim and me to have a dance together.

Jim was just dancing on the dancefloor with some older woman. I remember he had his jumper tied around his waist. I just got onto the dancefloor, he looked at me all serious and pulled me close to him. It was some tediously slow song that I can´t even remember, I just know that we were staggering from side to side like two handiccaped penguins and that made me laugh hysterically.

He was such a clown! Now, however, I consider this moment as one of the most precious memories of him. It was my night.

Back in 2009, I have learned that Jim was diagnosed with cancer. My ex-boyfriend told me how concerned Jim was when informing him. He said, he wept. At that time I didn´t know how serious the situation was and I hoped Jim will get better in no time. I believed the doctors would somehow help him out of it. I saw him a little later at work when he came to our restaurant for breakfast.

I almost served him as another customer, but when I realized it was him, I pulled myself back into the kitchen and let the other girls serve him. He never noticed. I was in such state of shock. I didn´t know what to do, how to act and what to say. He was so thin, just skin and bone. His face was sinking, his eyes full of pain, a small tube leading from his nose to the oxygen device he carried in his backpack and a small canvas hat on his head. I couldn´t believe this was Jim, whom I have remembered being so full of life and joy only half a year ago. I wanted to cry like never before. I also felt embarassed by my own cowardly reaction. I wished more than anything in my life to hug him and say I loved him. I wanted to wish him a happy Christmas. But I was scared of my own tears, which would not help him in his situation.

I wrote him a message on the phone, but he didn´t respond. And then I got the terrible news. Jim died and somehow I also missed his funeral. I took a first taxi and went at least to his months Mass and visited his grave, bringing him daffodils and little white lantern with candle. It was so hard for me. His relatives stood above his grave. I said my prayers in a minute of silence. The air didn´t move and the moon was full in the night sky. It was dark and cold all around but I didn´t care.

I wanted to see him laugh and mess around like he used to. It was as if another star had disappeared and fell to the earth. If only life could last forever.”

2006-2010

Credits to Seraphiel’s blog. Please don’t repost without credits.

#jim hutton

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petersasteria · 4 years ago

Text

I’m A Ghost?! - Haz Osterfield

Happy Halloween, bitches x

“Personally, I think you need this.” James, your older brother, said as he made himself comfortable on your bed. You were pacing back and forth while deciding whether or not you should go to your friend’s birthday party. You wanted to go, but at the same time, you didn’t want to. You were torn.

“Or maybe I should just stay home!” You said with a smile and sat down at the edge of your bed.

“Y/N, you’ve been staying at home for eight bloody years. What good has that done to you? You need a break from this house and your son. Seriously, you need a life outside yours and Mason’s. You’re a brilliant mum and letting loose for just one night won’t hurt, I guarantee you.” James said with a small smile.

You looked at him and asked, “You think I’m a brilliant mum?”

“You had Mason when you were sixteen.” James chuckled lightly. “You’ve been through so much; from getting disowned by our parents to nearly losing your life just to bring Mason into this world.”

It was true.

You got pregnant at sixteen and it scared you. You were young and naive. You thought the guy who knocked you up would stand by you, but he didn’t. He just left. When you told your parents, they weren’t happy. They told you to pack your things and move out and that you and your ‘mistake’ aren’t welcome there and that they didn’t want to see you ever again.

James was twenty-one years old at that time and he just moved in a new apartment that he shared with his girlfriend. You moved in with them and they helped you through it all. James never went home to your parents after learning what they did to you, so both of you did new traditions.

When one leaves, another arrives. James’ girlfriend left him because she was offered a job in Dubai and she didn’t want to turn it down. He let her go instead. After all, it was good for her. After that, it’s been you and James... and Mason a week after that.

You had a hard time giving birth to him because something went wrong. James was panicking because he didn’t know what to do. You were literally dying. Then, some miracle happened. You fought your way through and gave birth to the most beautiful boy you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

Nothing else mattered and he was perfect. You promised yourself that you would give him the best life and James was by your side, guiding you through it.

“Despite all of that, you still manage to push through on your own and you still manage to give Mason the best life he could ever imagine. Heck, you live in this house and it’s small, but it’s lovely for both of you. So, yes. I think you’re a brilliant mum and anyone who says otherwise is an idiot.” James grinned.

“Thank you.” You tear up. Both of you hugged each other and you pulled away.

“Go on and get ready, alright? Mason and I will be fine.” James reassured.

Now, here you were about to leave the house. You gave Mason the biggest and tightest hug and repeatedly told him that you loved him and that you’d be back in time to read him a story.

Sadly, you never got back on time to read him a story. In fact, you never got back at all.

You were driving at an unfamiliar road. Well, you knew the street, but you’ve never been there until now. Then a car crashed into yours and the impact killed you immediately. James was informed of your demise and he didn’t know what to tell Mason. Instead, he just got drunk and left.

Although he was very much alive, he never came back for Mason.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓...

You woke up in a funny position on the ground and your back was hurting. You got up and looked around and groaned when you didn’t recognize anything. You looked down and you were still wearing your clothes from last night.

You looked around and approached people to ask for some help, but they just... ignored you. It was weird. Surely they would’ve noticed you, right? You continued to ask for help until you got frustrated.

“Can you please help me?” You asked a woman who was walking with a stroller. You scoffed when the woman didn’t say anything. “Are you deaf like the rest of the people who ignored me?”

Then, you heard giggling. You looked for the sound and realized it belonged to the baby in the stroller. The baby was looking right at you!

“Your baby can literally see me and you can’t?! Unbelievable!” You sighed in exasperation as you watched the woman leave.

“Calm down.” A voice said. “What kind of help do you need?”

You turned around and saw a blonde man wearing basketball shorts and a loose shirt approaching you. He had a kind smile and he seemed like a genuinely nice guy.

“Thank, fuck!” You said loudly. “A good Samaritan!” You smiled at him and said, “I’ve been asking help for, like, two hours now and you’re the first one who offered to help me.”

“No problem! I love helping.” The man smiled. “I’m Harrison Osterfield, by the way.”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“So, what did you need help with?” Harrison asked sweetly.

“Oh, you see I’m not from this area. This place is unfamiliar to me and I really want to get home. My son, Mason, is probably awake now. He’s an early riser.” You chuckled.

“Alright! I’ll just change my clothes first, okay? You can come with me and you can freshen up. People are staring.” Harrison chuckled lightly. You looked around and a few people were staring.

“Alright, let’s go to your place! I hope it’s not far.” You said as both of you started walking.

“Nah, it’s just around the corner.” Harrison assured.

True enough, his apartment was around the corner. He took a quick shower and changed his clothes. You chose not to freshen up because you could do it at home. When Harrison got out of the shower, you were laying on his couch. Your whole body was aching and you couldn’t move.

“You good?” Harrison asked and you shook your head. “Okay, how about I’ll bring your son here instead? Give me your address. I’ll call you when I get there.”

“You’d do that for a stranger?” You asked.

“Well, yeah. Besides, he’s someone important to you.” Harrison smiled which made you smile too. His smile was contagious.

You gave him your address and with that, he was on his way to your place.

𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄...

Harrison didn’t know what to expect on the way to your house. All he knew was that there’ll be an eight year old boy named Mason there and that Mason was with his uncle, James. To say that Harrison was shocked when he arrived at your house was an understatement.

There’s a car parked in front with a bumper sticker that said “Annabelle’s Foster Care”. He quickly parked and got out of his car. He saw two people wearing the uniform from the foster care carrying suitcases. He immediately went up to them and asked what was happening.

“The boy’s mother had passed last night due to a car accident.” One of them said.

“Such a shame, really. His guardian is nowhere to be seen either. The boy was all alone when we found him. He’s in the car right now; too upset to pack.” The other said sadly.

“I think you have it all wrong.” Harrison nervously said. “The mother’s fine! She’s at my apartment as we speak.”

“Her body’s in autopsy, though. Wait- are we even talking about the same person?”

“You know what? Probably not.” Harrison said. “Who lives here?”

“The girl and her son. Y/N Y/L/N and Mason.”

Harrison’s heart has never beaten so fast in his entire twenty-four years of living. He went pale and his hands were sweating. The only thing running through Harrison’s mind was, ‘Oh my god. She’s dead and I’m the only one who could see her.’

“You alright?”

Harrison snapped out of his thought and smiled, “Yeah, I’m fine. I got the wrong address.” He lied. “Sorry for bothering, yeah? I’ll be off now.” He quickly left the house and got in his car to drive back to his apartment. How the hell was he supposed to tell you that you’re just a soul now?

Soon, he arrived at his apartment and you were still on the couch. You sat up with a huge grin, but it slowly faded away when you didn’t see Mason.

“Where’s my son?” You asked.

“...He, uh, he’s going to foster care.” Harrison said nervously. He didn’t want an angry spirit in his apartment.

“Foster care?! I’m right here! Why is he-”

“You’re dead, Y/N.” Harrison said bluntly. “There isn’t any nicer way to say it, but you’re dead and I’m the only one who could see you. I guess that’s why people were staring this morning. They probably thought I was crazy.”

You couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“There’s no way, I’m dead.” You shook your head.

“But you are.” Harrison said sadly. “They said it was because of a car accident last night.”

Now, you knew why your body ached. Now you knew why you woke up on the ground at an unfamiliar place. You finally understood.

“Yes, but that doesn’t explain why my son is going to foster care. He has a guardian. My brot-”

“He left. The people from foster care said Mason was the only one there when they arrived.” Harrison said.

Your heart broke as you thought of your little boy. He must’ve felt so scared and alone. You wanted to hold him and tell him that everything will be okay, but you couldn’t do that anymore. Unless...

You looked at Harrison and said, “I want you to adopt Mason. Like, ASAP.”

“Whoa, there’s a lot of things to process. I live in a small apartment and I’m not cut out to be a father. I have a life!” Harrison shrieked.

“In case it didn’t occur to you, I don’t have a life. I had one, but I fucking died.” You said through gritted teeth. “I would ask someone else, but you’re the only one who could see me and I can help you through this shit, alright? Besides, aren’t you wondering why my soul is still here?” You rambled.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“Souls go somewhere when they die. Aren’t you wondering why I’m still here?”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it... why are you still here?”

“You might think it’s ridiculous-”

“Please, I’m talking to a ghost right now. At this point, nothing is ridiculous.” Harrison chuckled lightly and nodded for you to continue.

“I think I’m still here because of unfinished business. Before I left, I told Mason that I’d read him a bedtime story when I get back. Well, as you can see, I didn’t make it back.”

“But now, you can do that for me.” You smiled. “And maybe after you read him a bedtime story, I could finally leave. So can you please adopt Mason?”

Harrison stared into your eyes and gave in, “Fine. Only because I feel bad for him.”

The next three days were spent in teaching Harrison your ways on taking care of Mason and what to cook and telling him what Mason is allergic to and a lot of other things.

Harrison went to the foster care where Mason was in and before he knew it, he was already signing papers and taking Mason home.

You were waiting for them to arrive and the wait was killing you. You haven’t been away from Mason for this long and you were excited to see him. Although, it stung to know that the excitement was one sided.

You heard the door unlock and in comes Mason with Harrison behind him, holding the suitcases.

“Welcome home.” Harrison said softly as he closed the door and put the suitcases in his room. He walked back out only to find Mason sitting on the couch next to you.

You wanted to hold him so bad, but you couldn’t. Harrison immediately went to the kitchen to grab a plate of a PB&J sandwich that was cut diagonally just like how Mason wanted. Both you and Harrison hoped that making his favorite sandwich would make him open up to Harrison.

Harrison placed the plate on the coffee table and said, “I, uh, I hope you like PB&J.”

“It’s my favorite.” Mason said in a soft voice. It was music to your ears. It felt like hearing him talk for the first time all over again. Harrison smiled, “I’m glad! Do you want milk with that?”

Mason ate one half of the sandwich and nodded. He saw the remote of the tv and looked at Harrison for permission. Harrison just chuckled and nodded before going to the kitchen to get him a glass of milk.

Mason immediately got comfortable with Harrison and they were friends now. Harrison was beginning to like Mason’s company and now he understood what his mum felt when he was just Mason’s age. He now understood why his mother was so attached and why his mother wanted him by her side all the time.

It was night time and you sat at the edge of the bed as Harrison started reading Mason’s favorite bedtime story. As usual, Mason never got to hear the end because he was already fast asleep. You smiled at the sight and got up to kiss Mason’s forehead which he brushed off, thinking it was hair sticking to his forehead.

You walked out of Harrison’s room and Harrison quietly followed.

“I guess this is goodbye, huh?” Harrison said sadly.

“Yeah.” You said. “Take care of yourself, alright? Take care of Mason too.”

“I will.” He promised.

“Don’t forget to read him stories every night. His favorite snacks are PB&J’s and if it’s not available, Cheetos are fine. He’s allergic to eggs and he loves bacon for dinner, not breakfast. Make sure he eats his vegetables and if he gets sick, make sure he takes his med-”

“Medicine on time because for some reason, he gets cranky when he doesn’t.” Harrison continued. “I got this, Y/N.”

You nodded. Both of you stayed in comfortable silence, neither of you didn’t know what to say.

Thank you for everything, Harrison. You’re a blessing.” You smiled sadly. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” He gave you a small smile. Harrison’s vision became blurry with tears when he saw you starting to fade away.

“Tell Mason that I love him with all my heart and that I’ll always be there for him.” You said.

Harrison nodded, “I will.”

“I’ll be there for you too, okay? You may not see me anymore, but I’ll make sure my presence is with you anytime you need me.” You tear up.

“Well, my mission is done. Thanks for everything, Harrison. You’ll be a great dad to Mason. I can feel it. I trust you, okay? See you when I see you.” You said.

“Thank you too and I’ll do my best.” Harrison cried and watched as you finally faded away.

“Harrison?” A sleep Mason asked. Harrison quickly wiped his tears and turned to see him.

“Yeah?”

“I had a dream about my mum.” Mason said sheepishly. “She said she was okay and I miss her. Now, I can’t sleep. Is it okay if we cuddle? My mum cuddles me when I can’t sleep and-”

“Yeah.” Harrison said. “We can cuddle.”

Mason smiled and both of them went to the room and cuddled until Mason fell asleep again. Harrison’s eyes were beginning to feel heavy too and as he watched Mason sleep, he realized that everything will be okay. They’ll be fine.

* * * *

Happy Halloween x

𝐇𝐀𝐙 𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @abrielleholland @silencetheslaves @imeanlifesabitshit @joyleenl @marshxx @hjoficrecs @myblueleatherbag @poguesholland @myblueleatherbag @harryismysunflower @justanothermarvelmaniac @lonikje @lizzyosterfield @itstaskeen @ilarbu @turtoix @badreputationlove @starlight-starks @swiftmind @sovereignparker @pearce14 @justanamesstuff @chewymoustachio @cocoamoonmalfoy @hazmyheart

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell @justasmisunderstoodasloki @rubberducky-jrr @petersholland @osterfieldnholland @miraclesoflove @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @perspectiveparker @parker-potters @itstaskeen @call-me-baby-gir1 @the-panwitch @iamaunicorn4704 @chloecreatesfictions @holland-styles @halfblood-princess-505 @spidey-reids-2003 @herbatkazmiloscia @whatthefuckimbisexual @justanothermarvelmaniac @unsaidholland @musicalkeys @lost-in-the-stars03 @hufflepuffprincess24 @hollanddolanfangirl @parkerpeter24 @bellelittleoff

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield imagines #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield one shot #harrison osterfield one shots #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x y/n #haz osterfield #haz osterfield imagines #haz osterfield imagine #haz osterfield one shots #haz osterfield one shot #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield x y/n #in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh #k's halloween special

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