#I planned to post the fic yesterday or even Monday but I had stuff to do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blossomwritesthings · 1 year

Note

Hyunjin sickfic when. *folds arms waiting patiently* 🤭

I love your writing sm I’m gonna cry

𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐠𝐨

pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader (afab)

genre: sick!fic. idol!hyunjin. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. reader pov. established relationship.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. hospital visit. this one's got angst in it. reader is sick (with a sprained ankle). hyunjin is worried af, as he should be lmao. reader has low self-esteem w/her dancing abilities, and has difficulty opening up about how she truly feels. pet names (affectionately). toothe-rotting fluff.

word count: 6.3k (yikes got carried away with this one wtf)

summary: it's been proving to be very difficult to keep the dance class that you take three times a week a secret from your boyfriend hyunjin. and the lies only become even harder to tell when you suddenly hurt your foot during class one night.

a/n: originally, i was planning on posting this yesterday as a kind of valentine's day gift for you guys, but then uni homework raw-dogged me like a total bitch and i got fucked over with a horrible migraine later in the night... i love my life!!! 😊 anyways, this was really fun to write- i FUCKING ADORE SOFT HYUNJIN!!! 😭 thanks for requesting, @hyungenie5... i hope this little piece of writing is to your liking, and thanks for your support~ 🤍

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

The dance class was supposed to remain a secret. No one - not even your boyfriend Hyunjin - was supposed to know that you were taking it until it was long over in the summer. By the end of the class, you hoped that your skills would improve immensely and that you’d be able to join your boyfriend in the studio some time to dance with him.

But unfortunately, those grand plans all came to a halt late one Friday night.

When you were practicing a certain twirl that had been giving you a hard time for the past week. For some reason, one of the laces of your sneakers had come undone. And this prompted you to trip over it when you suddenly came out of the spin.

You landed on the ground in a heap of limbs, clenching down hard on your jaw at the feel of a sharp pain shooting through your left ankle. The ache was agonizing, and it took everything in you to not scream out in anguish at the feeling that had quickly exploded inside your ankle.

Soon, your classmates rushed over and helped you off of the floor and onto a nearby bench, where your teacher took a look at your foot.

“It doesn’t look too bad, it’s just a bit swollen from the impact,” she said, peering up at you, a sheen of sweat glistening across her exposed forehead. It was sweltering in the practice room at the gym where you were taking the lessons, and everyone crowding around you was out of breath from the routine that the class had been practicing tirelessly for the last month or so. “I’d advise you to keep off of it as much as you can for the next few days and ice it every night. Don’t come into class Monday and instead give it a rest, and it should be better by the next session on Wednesday.” Your teacher instructed you, before giving your knee a gentle squeeze and going back to a group of students who needed her advice on a certain move. You had class every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday late in the night, but surprisingly, the sessions were always packed with wannabe dancers, even late into the night. It just proved how many people desperately wanted to become better dancers. And you were one of those ‘people.’

“Can you make it to your car alone?” One of your classmates asked. You looked up at Yejun, offering her a smile that quickly turned into a grimace of pain. You had met her soon after you started the class, and the two of you had grown closer over the past few months.

But no one knew who you were dating - who your boyfriend of three years was. They couldn’t know, otherwise, that would jeopardize everything Hyunjin did for work and your entire livelihood. So, you mostly stayed silent about the intimate details of your personal life with everyone else and opted to talk about the surface-level things in your life.

“Yeah, I don’t think I can do it,” you laughed in a humorless kind of way. Without another word, Yejun was picking up the large duffle bag that you always brought with you to practice. Then, she was slipping an arm around your waist and leading you out of class and through the spacious gym. It was still relatively busy even for it being so late in the night on a Friday.

“You promise that you’re gonna rest?” She rose a black, perfectly-manicured eyebrow your way as you shuffled out of the main doors of the gym.

And even though you had only known her for a few months, she could get a pretty good read on you. How you didn’t like asking people for help and how you tended to bottle things up all of the time. You had done such a thing since you were a very little girl, and you supposed there was no changing the way your mind was built. Even still, this aspect of your personality drove Hyunjin insane. He’d pry and pry and pry for you to tell him what was truly wrong with you, and it’d take more than just a few kisses and gentle words to finally get you to talk. It didn’t matter who you were with - who you were talking to - you just… couldn’t talk about really personal stuff most of the time.

“Yeah, yeah- I’ll rest all this weekend.” You rolled your eyes at Yejun as you stopped just in front of your car. You pulled out your keys, unlocking the doors before throwing your duffle bag into the backseat.

“Okay, well… drive safe and take it easy, yeah?” She mumbled, pulling you into a gentle hug, and you gave her a quick pat on the back before pulling away. “See you on Wednesday?”

You flashed her a playful wink, “Sure thing!” You waved her off as you slipped into the driver’s seat of your car. Your friend returned the gesture before she turned around and jogged back into the gym.

As soon as she was out of sight, you let out the moan of misery that you had been holding in for the last few minutes. The pain seemed to shoot through your ankle in quick increments, traveling up the length of your leg and pooling in your knee.

Holding onto the steering wheel with a death-like grip, you took a few deep breaths. The ache wouldn’t be this bad forever. You just needed to ice it. Just follow what your teacher told you to do, and you’ll be fine. You said all of these things and more to yourself inside your head as you turned your key in the car's socket and the car’s ignition roared to light.

Just get home and get in bed, and then everything will be alright.

But everything was not alright.

This was made so apparent when you stood in front of your apartment door and the remembrance dawned on you that Hyunjin had the entire weekend off. So that meant that he would be home earlier than he usually would be on a Friday night. And since it was a quarter-past-eleven at night, he was sure to be home.

Fuck.

It had already been an entire production getting out of your car and into your apartment’s elevator, what with your limping form and all. But now you had to face your very own boyfriend, who wasn’t even aware that you were taking a dance class in the first place. You wanted it to be a surprise for him. You had always been self-conscious about your dance skills ever since you were a little girl.

And then you went ahead and started dating one of the best dancers in all of the Kpop industry. As a consequence, your self-esteem in the dancing department tanked astonishingly low. You’d regularly join Hyunjin in the studio late at night at the company, and sometimes he’d try to teach you some of Stray Kids choreo. But most of the time, you made a complete fool of yourself, and instead opted to just watch him from the sidelines. Watch in silence, offering praise when you could, about how perfect his angles were, how amazing his technique was, and how his flow and rhythm were impeccable with the music.

Meanwhile, deep inside your mind, you were playing the same thought over and over again; why can’t you just be a better dancer like him? Why can you just not suck at it, for once in your damn life? He probably thinks your horrible, and he’s right… no wonder why he stopped offering you teach you.

But in the new year, finally feeling fed up from always feeling shitty when your boyfriend would show you a video of his dance practices, or when you’d watch him in the studio, you decided to sign up for the beginner's contemporary dance class at your local gym.

It was daunting, at first, to go by yourself without knowing anyone there, but soon, you got used to the feeling and genuinely started to enjoy your time spend in the studio. It was hard work, that was for sure, but you liked the idea of finally finishing it in the early spring and then surprising your amazingly-talented dancer boyfriend with the choreo that you had learned and practiced tirelessly for the past few months, unbeknownst to him.

To keep the class a secret from Hyunjin, you had lied and told him that you were going to the local gym and lifting weights. And it wasn’t a complete lie, because technically, you were at the gym. You just weren’t lifting any weights.

Nevertheless, Hyunjin had been hesitant about the idea. Especially since you would be coming and going so late at night. At first, he had protested against it because of how many creeps could be hanging around the gym that late at night. He didn’t want you willingly putting yourself in any danger from being out so late alone. But, after much negotiation and pleading on your part, you had managed to convince him to be okay with it. And then, you were off… attending the class three times a week and absorbing the lessons like a little ocean sponge out in deep sea waters.

You gathered up all of the courage you still had inside of you as you shuffled across the apartment’s threshold. A couple of the lights were left on in the living room, and dim classical music was filtering out through the nearby room to the right of you. Hyunjin’s art studio. The two of you had chosen this specific apartment to rent out because it offered two bedrooms, and the space that he wanted to make his office had an amazing, large bay window that showcased a huge portion of Seoul's cityscape. The view in there was breathtaking and was the key inspiration for a lot of his recent art pieces.

A sigh of relief fled from your lips as you dropped your duffle bag down on the nearby dining room table and made to get some ice for your foot. Your entire body was sticky from your dried sweat, and you longed to hop into the shower for a nice cool-off. Just as soon as you ice your ankle.

Just as you were filling up a small plastic bag of ice, you heard a door open behind you. Then, in a few beats, you felt two long arms wrap around your waist from behind. If you weren’t in so much pain at that moment, you would’ve been happy to feel Hyunjin’s presence at your back. But mostly, you just felt exhausted and irritable. And these were two things that didn’t mix well together.

“Welcome home, sweetheart,” he muttered, as he leaned down with his tall frame to pepper gentle kisses against your shoulder. “How was your workout?”

“Fine, I guess.” You said in a slightly-dismissive tone, as you finished filling up your baggie with ice.

“And why in the world are you filling up a plastic bag with ice?”

Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach at his question. Because in your state of discomfort and exhaustion, you hadn’t thought out the lie that you would have to tell him for why you could barely fucking walk. And you definitely couldn’t tell him to the extent that the pain was at. But there was no getting around the fact that you had hurt yourself, so better to tell a small white lie than ignore it entirely.

“I, uh- kinda hurt my foot when I was working out with weights tonight, but I’m okay.” You said, trying to keep your voice light and airy.

Immediately as the words fell from your lips, Hyunjin was turning you around. His eyes raked over your face, assessing your neutral expression before flitting down to the rest of your body. Like he’d be able to see any other injuries you hadn’t told him about if he looked hard enough.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His brows were furrowed in worry, the concern blatantly shining in his dark brown eyes. His fingers brushed across your cheek, before tucking a few stray, sweaty strands of your hair behind your ear.

You gave him a soft smile, leaning up to ruffle his fluffy, peachy-pink hair a little bit. “Yes babe, I’m fine.”

“Then, you should rest and use the ice pack.”

You gave him a sardonic grin, “That’s what I was trying to do before you stopped my plans and started to grill me with questions.”

He slipped his arms from your hips and reluctantly stepped away from your frame to allow you space to continue your routine. But not before he leaned down into you with his towering form and pressed a gentle kiss against your lips. And if your foot didn’t currently hurt like a bitch, you probably would’ve melted into his embrace and let him hold and kiss you for a long time after that. Instead, you just felt like a sweaty ball of painful shit and wanted to hop into bed as soon as possible.

“I’ll be in my office if you need anything…” Hyunjin’s delicate voice stayed with you in the kitchen, as he trekked back to the door to his office.

You quickly grabbed a kitchen dish towel to use to wrap around your bag of ice. “Alright. I’m going to take a quick shower and then head to bed.”

“I’ll be there in a little while,” your boyfriend said, and when you looked up at him, he was giving you this sweet, pure look of devotion. But it was also mixed with a tad bit of unease. He never did like the idea of you being injured in any way. “Try to get some rest, yeah?”

“Sure, baby,” you flashed him a wink, “but only if you come to bed relatively early tonight.” It seemed like he was always slipping into bed late these days… curling up behind you well past three in the morning. He proclaimed that it was only because inspiration struck him the strongest late into the night, and while you weren’t one to stand between an artist and their craft, there had to be a better solution for inspiration than ruining his entire sleep schedule.

“I'll sure try, sweetheart.” Hyunjin’s soft voice followed behind you, as you made your way to your shared bedroom.

At least you weren’t the only one who told lies in the relationship.

The next day, your foot hurt like a literal bitch all day long. The pain wasn’t too bad after you first woke up, and upon icing it for a little while, it felt somewhat better. But then you went about the apartment doing the chores that you usually did every Saturday, and the discomfort returned tenfold.

At one point, it was so bad that when you sat down on the living room couch for a few minutes to give it a rest, you could barely get up again. And when you untucked your sock after lunch, you noticed how your left foot was looking a little… discolored. Some parts of your ankle were grayed, and a tiny bit of swelling was present too. But you had hurt it in dance, so that was to be expected.

You tried to hide the agony that you were in from your boyfriend, but being the perceptive man that he was, he automatically picked up on it. After all, he had become attuned over the years to understanding when you were feeling shitty since it took you so long to admit to him how you were feeling. Throughout the day, he’d ask you if you were okay and force you to sit down for a few minutes to ice the hurting foot.

But it was after dinner that he finally decided to put his foot down about the whole thing. He had dragged you over to the living room couch, practically throwing you onto the plush cushions before plopping down beside you.

“And what gives you the right to think you can throw me around like your own personal rag doll?” You asked, playfulness dripping from your tone. You turned to him and rose a quizzical eyebrow his way as he turned on the tv and flipped through Netflix to find a movie to watch. The usual thing that you two liked to do every Saturday night; was curl up on the couch and get all cozy with each other. The movie nights either ended in one of two ways, cuddling until you both fell asleep right then and there, or making out and soon traveling into the bedroom for a long night of fun.

“I’m forcing you to take a break, that’s what I’m doing,” he leveled you with a serious face, a slight frown pulling his mouth downwards.

You folded your arms across your chest defensively, “I don’t need a break, babe. I’m fine.”

“Oh yeah? Well then, I guess I’ve just been imagining all of the pained faces that you’ve been making all day, or that perpetual furrow in your brow that you always get when you’re holding something in?” Hyunjin said, voice completely flat. Just then he reached out to you, wrapping a long arm around your waist and yanking you close to his side before tucking a fuzzy blanket around the two of you.

“I’m not furrowing my brows.” You said defensively, even though you had given up on fighting him any longer. Honestly, you were a little too tired from all of the hurt and activity of the day to care. So you snuggled deeper against him, slinging your arms around his waist and breathing in his scent of fresh linen and sweet roses. “And besides, the apartment needed cleaning. A bad foot wasn’t going to stop me from completing my mission.” You had taken some pain medication soon after lunch, but since it was late into the night, it had worn off. You’d have to take some before you went to bed, but it didn’t seem to help that much, since you had still been in pain even after taking it in the middle of the day.

“Just shut up and relax, will ya?” Your boyfriend all but grumbled, as he finally selected some random thriller to watch. You hid your smile behind your blanket as you felt him lean down and press a few kisses atop the crown of your head. “Just want you to feel better, my love…”

You turned your head up on his shoulder so that you were staring right into his expressive dark-brown eyes. “And I already do feel better just with your kisses alone.” A smirk spread across your mouth, as you leaned into him and your mouths met again in a soft kiss.

Your boyfriend motioned with his head to the flashing tv screen in front of the two of you, “Now, let’s focus on the movie so that you can get your mind off of the discomfort.”

A few giggles escaped from deep inside of you at his serious tone. He truly did care a lot about you and your well-being. And so that’s why you didn’t want to tell him how bad the pain was. Because you knew that as soon as you told him, he’d get himself all worked up into a tizzy and obsess over your health until you were back to one-hundred-and-twenty percent. Would practically nurse you back to health, ignoring all of his other duties at the company until he could confirm with his own two eyes that his girlfriend was feeling much better than before.

So you stayed silent, refraining from revealing to him how much agony you truly were in from your foot alone. You turned your attention to the movie in front of you.

And the feel of his long, muscular arms wrapped around your waist and squeezing slightly, the comforting sense of his warm body just beside yours, did wonders to the pain. It worked better than any of the medicine in the entire world, and you soon found yourself completely ignoring and forgetting the ache that was shooting through your foot and up into your veins and instead was basking in the feel and smell of your very loving boyfriend.

“Sweetheart, do you want to stop and take a rest for a minute?” Hyunjin asked you in a gentle voice the next day. What with it being Sunday and since the two of you were still off from work, you had decided to spend the day out on the town - shopping around.

You two had already eaten a sweet breakfast of pastries and coffee at a local cafe and were currently walking the streets of Hongdae, in search of a matching set of hoodies that fit both of your styles perfectly. So far, you had had no luck at the boutiques that you had already searched. The fuzzy hoodies were either too frilly or too plain...

You shook your head vehemently, “No, I’m fine… don’t worry about me.” But you knew you telling him that would only make him worry even more. Since your foot only hurt even worse when you woke up early that morning. The pain throbbed up your leg now, and it felt like somehow was grasping harshly at your left ankle bone every time you walked on it, rattling the thing bitterly.

You were practically limping pathetically at your boyfriend's side, desperate hands clutching at his arm to stop you from completely toppling over into a pile of weak limbs right there. Because that’s what you were feeling at that exact moment; weak.

Hyunjin ran a frustrated hand through his peachy-pink locks, an exasperated sigh flooding from his lips, “I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to us going out today-” He started to grumble beside you.

Just then, the two of you stepped over a particular area of sidewalk that was somewhat cracked in the middle. And of course, your left shoe - your bad foot - just had to get caught in the tiny space there. Immediately, your body hurled to the ground as you grasped for your boyfriend. Thankfully, he caught you just in time before you hit the asphalt, pulling you up onto your feet again.

And when you stood straight once more, the agony only intensified even more so. Feeling so overwhelmed by it, and so, so weary with sudden despair, a tiny cry escaped past your lips as your legs gave out from underneath you. Toppling onto the ground in a heap of exhaustion, the tears were freely flowing down your cheeks.

Hyunjin was already crouching at your side, one arm wrapped around your waist. “Darling, what’s wrong-” He began, the worry seeping from his tone.

“It’s hurts, Hyunjin… like, a lot…” You managed to get out in between your sobs. Your vision was blurry from your tears, cheeks warm to the touch at the embarrassment of feeling others' eyes on you as they passed by on the street.

But not another word needed to be spoken, as you were soon being lifted into your boyfriend’s arms. And a moment later, he was gently placing you down on a nearby bench.

He was then crouching in front of your feet, gently grasping at your left foot and holding it out to him slowly. “Can I take a look at it, sweetheart?” He asked you with all of the tenderness in the world. The look in his eyes then- one of pure apprehension and heartache did something funny to your heart and only made you cry even harder. You nodded your head in silent approval.

Heart beating wildly inside your chest, you waited, and watched in bated since, as your boyfriend gingerly slipped off your thin sneaker. With thin, nimble fingers, he slid your baby-blue sock down and off of your foot.

And the moment he saw what lay underneath, he gasped audibly. Your foot was steadily turning purple and blue and was swollen all around the ankle. Eyes completely focused on your foot, Hyunjin turned your foot from either side, inspecting it diligently.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of looking at it, he stared up at you with wide eyes. The heartbreaking look in them told you all you needed to know- the way that his lips slightly fell open in his surprise, jaw clenching in anger. “B-Baby, has it looked like this since you got home from the gym on Friday?” His fingers gently swept over the bone that was slightly protruding out to the side near your ankle.

The tears had begun to slow down, leaving wet trails down either of your heated cheeks. Sniffling, you meekly nodded your head yes in answer. “Why? Is it that bad?”

A deep crease formed between his dark brows, and his blush-pink hair blew in the cool February breeze that suddenly swept across the streets at that moment. “Sweetheart, this looks really- really bad,” his eyes flitted down to your foot again, which he was still holding in one of his palms. “I’ve seen a lot of injuries, and I know the signs… honey, I think you’ve sprained it.”

Your heart plummeted into the pit of your stomach. “W-What? But… how could that be? It’s not like I-” Your voice took on an incredulous tone, but before you could say anything else, your boyfriend was moving your foot again, turning it slightly so that he could slip your sock back on. You hissed in discomfort, biting down hard on your bottom lip to quell the moan that wanted to bubble up and out of you just then. The pain was unbearable.

Your boyfriend stood up from the ground, fitting two hands around your waist and helping you rise from the bench. He slipped an arm around your hips, securing you to his side as you slowly began to shuffle down the street, going backward from the way you had just come from. “C’mon, we gotta get you to the hospital.” He said, leading you two away from the shops that you had been at for the last few hours.

“Hospital? No- that’s not necessary, I just need to… rest at home, that’s all…” Your voice trailed off as another wave of pain throbbed through your tender foot.

Hyunjin leveled you with a glare. “It’s either you come with me willingly, or I carry you in my arms bridal style. Either way, you’re fucking going to the hospital.” The way he said the last of his words in that deathly-low tone sent a chill down your spine. Because you knew it all too well since he’d only use it on you when you were being particularly stubborn. And almost always, it was during a time when you weren’t taking any regard for your health, and Hyunjin had to force you to do the things necessary to practically stay alive.

“O-Okay…” You whispered. You struggled along beside him, fingers holding on tight to his thick brown winter jacket. “Just… don’t let go?” You stared up at him with big eyes, lip quivering a little bit from the pain of having to walk and put pressure on your bruised foot.

“Never, sweetheart.” He brought you closer to him then, practically wrapping both arms around your waist and helping you along the sidewalk as you slowly made your way back to his car.

“Well, you have a sprained ankle,” the nurse told you a few hours later. She was a rather short, petite-looking woman, with long, black hair swept up into a tight braid at the back of her head. “You’ll need to diligently rest for the next… four to six weeks. The doctor suggested using an ice pack for twenty minutes a few times a day, to help with the swelling.”

After you and Hyunjin had left Hongdae, it was only a matter of time before he found the nearest hospital and checked you into the Emergency Room there. After waiting for a little over an hour, you were finally called back into one of the exam rooms. It merely took the nurse and doctor one look at your ankle to confirm that it was sprained. After the doctor’s assessment, the nurse filed back into the room to hand you some paperwork to fill out.

During the entire visit, Hyunjin was sitting beside your hospital bed in a small chair, clutching onto your hand as you awaited the news of your diagnosis. He let out a sigh of relief at the news of it only being a sprain since he had been worrying that it was broken instead.

“And don’t walk on it,” the nurse continued, as she handed you a bottle of prescribed high-dosage pain medications. “I understand that it will be difficult to assimilate to a less active lifestyle for some time, but please remember that if you walk on it, doing so can put you at risk for horrible complications in the future and hinder you from achieving a full recovery.”

“I understand, thank you so much,” you said, giving her a soft smile as you fit the bottle of pain meds into your nearby purse. Your boyfriend was still clutching onto your hand, fingers squeezing a little too tightly as you positioned yourself back on the bed.

"I’ll give you two a few minutes, and then come back to assist you in checking out at the front desk.” The nurse returned your smile and bowed slightly at you and Hyunjin before making her way out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind her.

Immediately, your boyfriend turned to you with a deep frown. “And you’ve been walking on a sprained ankle for the past… three days.” He shook his head in disapproval, running a frantic hand through your hair. “Honestly, Y/N, I don’t understand why you do this to yourself- why you do it to me…”

Training your focus down at your lap, your fingers absently played with a loose strand from your thick winter sweater. “It’s not like I mean to not tell you stuff. It just… happens.”

“And you said you got this from lifting weights at the gym?”

His question forced your head to shoot up without you even thinking about it, eyes locking with his as he sat just beside you in his tiny vinyl chair. “Y-Yeah… I must’ve used the barbell wrong or something.” You laughed a little anxiously, heart beating painfully against your ribcage.

Because he couldn’t find out. It was downright embarrassing to think about him knowing you had been taking dance classes. But you also wanted to keep it a surprise for him, when you eventually performed your routine for him - not like that would happen anytime soon though, since you would be on bed rest for the foreseeable future.

Hyunjin brought his hand away from yours then, folding his arms across his chest stubbornly, crossing his legs together and giving you a knowing look. “I call bullshit. You don’t get a strained ankle from lifting a few pounds.”

“And how do you know that, mister?”

“Because I’ve seen the guys get injured from lifting before, but it never has to do with their ankles.”

“Well, maybe I’m the exception.”

“Cut the crap, sweetheart,” his voice came out a little cold just then, eyes raking over your form, studying your face to gauge your emotions at that moment. “Tell me what happened on Friday night.”

The embarrassment overtook you again, and you ripped your eyes from his. Focusing once more on your hands, you twisted the end of your sweater around your fingers. There wasn’t any use in keeping the ruse up any longer. It’s not like you’d be dancing the routine any time soon. So, you finally gave in and confessed to your boyfriend in a quiet mumble.

He leaned forward, tilting his body close to yours so that he could hear you better. “I didn’t hear that, love. Speak up.”

Clenching your fists in sudden annoyance, you stared at him, already feeling the crimson pooling in your cheeks. “I said- I was taking a dance class, okay?! And I fell and hurt my ankle- the instructor said it would be fine, but obviously, she isn’t a doctor…”

Silence filled the entire room after that, and it was charged with equal amounts of confusion and hurt. “Why in the world are you taking a dance class?”

“Because- I want to be good at dancing…” You exclaimed, staring into Hyunjin's eyes with what you hoped was a fierce expression. “I fucking suck at it- and- and you’re just so amazing, and I… I wanted to surprise you with a routine that I had learned all on my own. But then, I hurt myself, so that’s never gonna happen now.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Say what?” You canted your head to the side, watching as the emotions erupted across your boyfriend's face. First, it was anger, that you had kept such a secret from him for so long, then it was sadness, that you had felt the need to prove yourself in any way to him.

“Say that you suck at dancing,” he began, as he moved forward and clasped either of your hands in his. He brought them close to his mouth, lips hovering near your skin and pressing a few soft kisses to your knuckles. “You’re great at it, baby, don’t doubt yourself. And I was never amazing right off the bat. It took me a long time and lots of hard work to get where I am today.”

“Yeah, but some people are just naturally born with it, and I don’t think I am. So… that’s why I was trying to improve.” You shrugged slowly, a zap of energy coursing through your veins each time Hyunjin pressed a fervent kiss against your hands.

“Well, I always think that improvement is good. But, there has to be a balance. You can’t simply ignore your health just because you want to get better at something.” Your boyfriend said in a calm voice, the warmth of it vibrating on your flesh and softening some hard part inside of you. “And besides, even if you weren’t born with the gift of dance - which I don’t believe to be true - there are still other gifts that you have that are unique and wonderful to you, baby. You shouldn’t compare yourself to me, or anyone else, for that matter.”

You gave him a frown, eyes locked on his mouth that kept nearing your knuckles and pressing kisses there. “I know, but… it’s just hard sometimes, you know? To be dating such a… talented man.”

A tiny sound of pain - of heartbreak - fled from Hyunjin’s mouth then, and suddenly, he was pulling you towards him. Fitting his arms around your waist, he squeezed on tight. In an instant, you melted into the touch, burrowing yourself into the crook of his neck and inhaling his calming, sweet scent.

“I’m so sorry that you’ve felt like this, sweetheart. I had no idea.” He mumbled close to your ear, imprinting a soft kiss against the exposed skin there. “How can I make it up to you, darling? How can I change things, so that you don’t think so poorly of yourself anymore?”

You positioned yourself away from him a tiny bit, offering him a light smile, “Babe, you don’t have to do anything for me. My low self-esteem when it comes to dancing isn’t your fault, so don’t worry about it.”

He leaned in, kissing your lips gently. “Yes, but I don’t like the thought of you feeling so down about your abilities…” his voice trailed off into silence, as he contemplated what he could do for you. “I know- I’m going to nurse you back to health, and when your ankle is completely healed, I’ll help you continue learning that dance routine from your class. How does that sound, love?”

You kissed him back, hot breaths mingling slightly in the passion of the moment. “I’d like that very much, but… don’t you have your schedules?”

Hyunjin waved a nonchalant hand in the air like he didn’t have so many people expecting high standards from him every single day. “I can still help you and do my job, baby- it isn’t rocket science.”

You contemplated his idea over in your head. You hadn’t liked him trying to teach you different dances in the past, but perhaps that was because of your issues and not because of his teaching. And now that your struggles with the thing were out in the open, you got the feeling that your boyfriend would be extra careful when teaching you - treat you extra gently when explaining certain moves.

“Okay, I like the idea,” you decided, nodding your head slowly in approval. A wide smile cracked across your lips as you stared at his face that was alight with happiness and contentment, “When do we start?”

“How does eight weeks from now sound? To give your ankle plenty of time to heal.”

Gently carding a few fingers through his light, peachy-pink silky locks, you bent into him, the smile still plastered onto your face as you gave his mouth another kiss which felt like the hundredth one in the last hour. “Sounds perfect.” You said, and soon he was smirking against your lips, before tightening his grip around your hips, yanking you ever closer to his form, and smashing his mouth against yours in a fiery, loving kiss.

Fin.

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slutforstabbings-archive · 1 year

Text

Clean Again

Chapter 5: THE LONG LIST read on AO3 | previous chapter | tumblr chapter index make sure to check AO3 for this fic's playlist and other extras!

Corey comes to fix Reader's sewing machine.

general warnings for this fic - angst, fluff, eventual smut (MDNI), canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore contents/warnings for this chapter - alcohol consumption, stalking

4,237 words

@rebel-blue @heartrot666 @wolvesandvampires @cordelium @toxicanonymity @multifandom--mess @hersweetrevenge @futurewife @yllcm @ethanhoewke dm me or reply to this post to be added to the list💕

You stand in the living room, slowly rotating in a circle. Evaluating. Your eye lands on a candle and you lunge forward to light it. Then you step back and think. Too romantic. You blow it out. Another thought occurs to you and you run to the bathroom. You tear down the hand towel on the bar over the counter and stuff a new one into it. You tidy the bunched up fabric, but not too much. The kitchen! You sprint to the sink and dump out the mesh trap you keep in the drain. You dash back to the bathroom and apply a spritz of perfume down the inside of your shirt.

Corey’s coming over tonight.

Yesterday Veronica asked you to meet up for coffee before work. You arrived at the cafe across from the record store and found her at a little table on the patio. Before you could even pull a chair out to sit down, she was demanding information. All you had texted her on Monday night was a message mimicking hers.

“Oh my god, spill!” She exclaimed excitedly.

“He’s gonna fix my sewing machine.” You said with a laugh.

“What does that mean?” Veronica gave you an exaggerated scandalized look.

“My literal sewing machine. It’s been jammed for weeks. I can’t figure it out. But he’s a mechanic or something? I’m not really sure, but he knows machine things and he’s coming over tomorrow to fix it.”

“That’s your first date?” She said, amused.

“Well, I’m also gonna make him dinner.”

“Oh my god, cooking on the first date? You slut!” Veronica slapped your hand playfully and you both laughed. “What are you making him?”

“I don’t know yet! He said anything is fine except spaghetti. I wanna pick something kinda simple cause I know I’m gonna be super nervous. I gotta look at what I have in the house.”

“So how did the conversation go? How did you wind up asking him to fix your sewing machine?”

“The first time I saw him was in the like, technical hobby aisle. I was getting books about sewing machine maintenance because I thought I could figure it out on my own. I haven't gotten anywhere 'cause I keep getting scared I'm just gonna irreparably fuck the machine if I do it on my own. I saw him on that aisle again and I just said ‘Do you know anything about sewing machines?’” She didn't need to know you'd chased after him, even if you kind of felt like he'd wanted you to. You know she would not approve.

“Your opening line was ‘Do you know anything about sewing machines?’” She asked, incredulous. You nodded your head. “I cannot believe that worked.”

“Me neither,” you admitted.

“He’s a mechanic or something? That’s sexy.”

“Yeah,” you squeaked, covering your face.

“Mr. Library, the sexy mechanic. You’ll have to let me know how it goes.”

“Of course!” You reassured her. “Actually, I was planning to text you like, right before he gets there and after he leaves, like, for safety.”

“You fucking better, or I will come over there, guns blazing,” Veronica said. “What’s his name?”

“Corey.”

“Corey,” Veronica purred. The two of you burst into giggles like you used to in the back of class in high school.

You stand in front of the mirror on your dresser now, putting earrings in and taking them out. You want to look put together, like you tried, like you care. You also don’t want to go overboard. He’s just going to be fixing your sewing machine. But it’s more than just fixing your sewing machine. You haven’t been on any dates since you broke things off with Hurley. You’re already so infatuated with Corey it scares you. You just want things to go well. You’re not sure you can handle it if they don’t.

You go back out into the rest of the apartment, making sure it’s clean in the right way. Tidy without being sterile or stuffy. You pull the blanket down off the back of the couch, then toss it back up, so it doesn’t look so manicured. You flip through your records, looking for something to play, or at least to put on your little easel so it looked like you had been listening to it. You don’t know what kind of music he likes, so it seems fruitless.

It doesn’t matter now anyway. You can hear someone walking up the gravel path. He’s here. You text Veronica, hitting send just as there’s a knock on the door.

You open the door and you’re instantly taken aback by his beauty, the same way you were the first time you saw him. He looks great. He’s dressed in the simple way it seems like he always is, but it suits him so well, and you’ve never seen him in a sweater before. The way it hangs off his broad, round shoulders entices you to wonder about his body, so you look up at his face instead. His eyes, surrounded by halos of lashes, his pillowy lips. You feel your chest flushing.

“Come in, make yourself at home. You can take your shoes off if you want, or whatever you’re comfortable with,” you say, stepping behind the door to let him in.

“Oh, thanks,” he says. His work boots clatter to the wooden floor. You close the door awkwardly behind him.

Your phone goes off extremely loudly. Both of you jump. You had the volume turned up so you could hear if he called or texted while you were preparing for him to come over, but now the sound is deafening.

“Sorry, it’s just my friend checking in. She’s nervous about you coming over, 'cause you could be a serial killer or something.” You try to make a face that indicates it’s a joke, but for a split second he looks at you with something cold and hard in his face, and you remember the fear you felt in the library the first time you made eye contact. The hairs stand up on the back of your neck, but his face is already soft again and you manage a smile.

“Sewing machine’s in here,” you say as you lead him to the dining room. "I don’t know if you need them but the books I got from the library are right next to it. Can I get you something to drink? I have water, tea, beer…?” Corey just shakes his head and sits down in front of the machine. “Okay, let me know if you need anything. I gotta put the water on for dinner.”

You scamper into the kitchen. You pull out all the pots and pans you’ll need, using the water running into the pot for the pasta to cover the deep breaths you’re taking to try to steady yourself. He said no spaghetti, but that other pasta was fine. But is it fine? Should you make something else? You double check that your phone is on vibrate before sending Veronica another text.

Then you go back into the dining room.

Corey has a screwdriver kit you didn’t notice him bring in, all different shapes and sizes including ones you've never seen before. He’s already got the machine split down the middle, a neat little pile of screws in the lid of his tool set. You watch him silently for a second. He has one of your reference books open to a diagram you’d tried several times to understand. He shows no signs of confusion. He doesn’t acknowledge that you’ve come back into the room, so you clear your throat quietly.

“Do you want company or do you need to be alone to focus?”

Corey waves you over. You grab a dining chair and place it closer to him before sitting down. He glances up at you briefly, then goes back to his work. You sit there with your hands clasped in your lap, watching him. At first you feel super awkward. You still kind of can’t believe this is happening. That you saw him more than once, that asking him to fix your sewing machine worked, that he’s here, in your dining room. But as you watch his skillful hands remove piece after piece, working with quiet determination, you settle down. It feels like the most natural thing in the world. When you hear the water start to boil, you resent having to go back in the kitchen instead of getting to watch him longer. Then you remember what Veronica said yesterday morning.

“Oh my god, cooking on the first date? You slut!” That makes you smile. It is slutty, in its own way, doing something for him that other people might reserve for later in the relationship. Performing an intimate and domestic act for a stranger. You’ve never let a man know where you live without hanging out somewhere else first before, you’ve never had a man in this apartment at all. You’re breaking all your rules for him. It's scary, but the rules didn't protect you last time anyway. Might as well see what happens if you do things differently.

By the time you have a free moment away from the stove again, Corey is reassembling the machine. There’s a mound of dust and little fabric scraps on the table.

“Is this what was wrong with it?” You indicate the dust bunny, embarrassed.

“Yep,” Corey says simply.

“Damn, I thought I kept it pretty clean,” you say, trying to defend yourself even though Corey doesn’t seem to be judging.

“It’s the machine’s fault. You can’t clean where I pulled this from without opening the whole thing up. Bad design.” He shrugs.

“Oh. Thanks for fixing it.” You sweep the dust bunny into your hand and drop it into the trash can. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“It smells good,” he says quietly.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Riding here, the road rumbling under him, Corey tried to prepare himself for your questions. He knew you would want to try to get to know him. When the guys at work ask questions about his life, he gives half answers if they're persistent. If they seem like they would let it go, he just grunts. No one can find plot holes in the revised version of his life if he never shares it with anyone. But he knew that wouldn’t work with you. And if he was going to do this, whatever this was, he had to let you in, at least a little.

He was grateful you seemed happy to watch him work on the sewing machine in relative silence. Being able to do something with his hands helped him calm down. But now that diner is on the table, it’s time to talk, and his anxiety creeps up on him. He tries to push it down with the beer you brought him. Your cooking is surprisingly delicious. He regrets being too uncomfortable to really enjoy it. Hopefully next time, he catches himself thinking. If there is a next time.

“So you’re a car mechanic? Or are you like, an appliance mechanic? It wasn’t clear the other day.”

“Both,” he takes the beer bottle from his lips to say. “I work at a garage, and I repair old electronics and appliances to sell just for myself. You mend clothes?”

“Oh that’s my little side business. I also work at Plymouth Records, downtown. The mechanic thing is so cool. How did you get into that?”

It’s gonna be a long night, Corey thinks, wanting to do this to be close to you, but already feeling the wear of talking this much for the first time in so long.

“I was gonna go to college for engineering, but…” he trails off, scared to give you more information than that.

“But college.” You finish the sentence, making a face. “I dropped out too.”

“What were you studying before you dropped out?” He asks. He feels so relieved to hear you didn’t finish college either. He hopes the circumstances of your departure were much less traumatic than his, but it feels good to have a thing like that in common. It’s been so long since he felt like he had anything in common with anyone.

You laugh ruefully and it surprises him to hear the edge in your voice. “I had so many majors. I wasn’t in college because I had something I wanted to study. I was in college because it’s where I was ‘supposed to’ be.”

Corey wants to say something meaningful to that. He can’t imagine not wanting to go to college. He’d hung all his hopes on it before the thing with Jeremy. It was his ticket out. But he understands suffocating under other people’s expectations. Doing things, not because you want to, but to avoid the consequences if you don’t. He’s done that his whole life, with the exception of one glorious and horrific week. He couldn’t possibly get into it, so he settles from solemn nod.

“Where are you from?” You ask.

“Illinois,” Corey says, then immediately regrets it. He doesn’t want to lie, but he could be less specific.

“Oh yeah? I could tell you weren’t no southern boy,” you say, exaggerating your subtle accent. “Where at in Illinois?”

“Not a town you’ve heard of.” He hopes against hope that that’s the truth. His manslaughter trial didn’t make huge waves, but it had definitely made the rounds on social media nationally, and there was the podcast that nurse had mentioned. Michael Myers’ massacres, and his own, were probably much bigger headlines. Front page maybe even. He had killed nine people that week. He had no way to even estimate how many Michael had done beyond the two he’d been there for. That had to make the front page nationally. Or trend on Twitter, or something. But he couldn’t be sure. He’d avoided the news studiously since he left.

“What brought you here?”

That, Corey can answer truthfully. Vaguely, but truthfully. “It was hell living there. I couldn’t wait to get out,” he says. “What about you?”

“I’m from here,” you say. “I was gone for a few years, but I wound up crawling back.”

The conversation lulls. Corey is thankful that you allow it to. Mixed feelings roil inside him. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have accepted dinner if he was going to help you, and he shouldn’t have helped you. His cover will be blown, he’ll go to prison. He’ll be sentenced to death, but he won’t ever die. He’ll just wither immortally in a cell, watching all the other killers be walked to their waiting KFC.

And yet, it’s so nice to talk to someone. To put on a front and pretend to be normal. To get to know a pretty girl. He lies to himself every day that it doesn’t hurt. That he likes being alone. That even with his mother breathing down his neck his whole childhood, he was always really alone, and his complete isolation is just the logical conclusion of things. The way he was born to live.

Of course none of that is true. He remembers the way he felt about the Allens before the accident with Jeremy. How he’d hoped someday he could experience a love like the one they had, before he destroyed it.

Then there’s you. Rubbing your finger around the rim of your glass in mock-absentmindedness. Pretending not to look at him, but studying him intently. You texted your friend just in case the man you invited into your home was a murderer. He is. But you’re safe with him, at least right now. He thinks about the way you caught him in the library. And again he feels aroused at the idea that you’re a hunter too. He wonders if you could survive an encounter with Michael, if you have the fight in you like Laurie did. He finishes his beer.

“You’re a good cook,” he says, breaking the silence.

You give him The Smile . “Thank you! I was worried it was too similar to spaghetti.”

“I might actually eat your spaghetti.”

“You should be so lucky,” you reply, laughing. You’re flirting. He’s flirting, and you’re flirting back. He almost can’t believe it.

The rest of the evening is easier for Corey. He relaxes just a little. When it’s time for him to go, you walk outside with him. You stand out there in your sock feet with no jacket even though it’s a chilly night. Your eyes light up when you see his motorcycle.

“Is this what you drive all the time?” You ask.

“Yeah. Do you like motorcycles?”

“Uh, I think so? I’ve never ridden one.” You step closer to it.

Corey almost offers to give you a ride, but he hesitates, thinking of Allyson. The only other person he’d ever ridden with. Will giving you a ride lock you into her fate?

“I might be scared to ride it, honestly. As lame as that is,” you say, letting him off the hook.

“It’s not lame. My dad died in a motorcycle accident when I was little,” Corey says, surprising himself by sharing so easily.

“And you still ride this thing everywhere?” You raise your eyebrows in exaggerated disbelief.

“I don’t have the best sense of self-preservation,” he confesses.

A smirk curls your lips. Corey can see you realizing the shy, reserved boy you’d spent the evening with might have an edge to him. You have no idea how sharp that edge is.

“Let me know if there’s anything else you need fixed,” he says, straddling the bike and putting his helmet on.

“Do you want the long list or the short list?” You say sarcastically.

“The long list. Text it to me.” Corey’s bike roars to life. You laugh and shake your head. “I’m serious!” He shouts over the rumble of the engine.

You reach out and put your hand on the top of his helmet. Then you walk back to your door, turning around to wave at him before you go inside. He waves back, and watches you disappear into your apartment. When he can't see you anymore he rides away.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

As you close the door, you let out a little excited sound. You can’t help but squeal. Things went so well! You send the all clear text to Veronica as you make your way to the kitchen, not even annoyed that you have to clean up. Corey had been so nice, scraping both plates and putting them in the sink. You’re touched by the small gesture of respect. You reach into the basin and, without really thinking about it, you pick his fork up off his plate and put it into your mouth. You stand there for a second before you catch yourself. You pull the fork from your mouth and laugh out loud at yourself as you load the dishwasher.

After that’s done you bring a glass of water into the bedroom and set it and your phone on your nightstand. You want to text Corey and tell him thank you for such a lovely evening, but you don’t want to come across as clingy. You tell yourself you’ll decide after you do your nighttime routine. The water barely spurts out of the faucet in your bathroom. You struggle to get your toothbrush clean under the unimpressive flow, and it takes forever for your cupped hands to fill with water to splash on your face.

When you come back into the bedroom, skin moisturized and hair braided, the decision of how soon to text Corey has been made for you.

A little heart appears over your last message. His transparent attempt to have reasons to come back over charms you. As if you wouldn’t just invite him because you like him. You smile as you tuck yourself into bed.

Your bedroom door is crooked and sticks closed, so Corey takes it down and glues a bunch of toothpicks into the screw holes, then when the glue is dry, he saws them flush before he hangs the door back up.

Some of your outlets are loose, the weight of the cord pulls the plug halfway out as soon as you let go. The two of you check every outlet in the whole apartment, plugging things in and watching them slip back out, putting stickers on the ones that suck. Next time he comes over he flips all the switches in your breaker box. The two of you crawl around in the dark as he replaces each stickered outlet, you holding a flashlight steady for him. It feels strangely intimate, and you both speak in whispers, leaning in to be heard.

The light bulb in your closet is burnt out and your high ceilings keep it out of reach, even on the step stool you keep around. Corey stacks your dining chairs under the bare bulb and climbs the precarious pile.

“Be careful,” you warn him from outside the closet. He scoffs and holds his hand out for the new light bulb.

“There’s a spider in here,” he says when the light comes on.

“Cool,” you say. “Is it poisonous?”

“Um… I’m not a spider expert. It’s just a regular spider, I think.”

“Just leave it,” you instruct.

“You don’t want me to kill it?” His muffled voice sounds surprised.

“It’s not hurting anything. If that’s where it wants to be, I’m not gonna stop it.” He gives you a confused look when he jumps down from the chair stack. “Are you judging me?” You ask.

“Never. I’m just… impressed.”

“I have a soft spot for maligned creatures,” you explain.

When you’re not with Corey, he’s always on your mind. You’ve started hearing motorcycles everywhere. Whenever you hear one rumbling along, you think of him, and say a quick prayer to no one for the rider’s safety.

He’s smart. He seems scared to make jokes, like he doesn’t think he’s funny, but there’s a dark edged humor to him that surprises you pleasantly every time. When you talk it feels like he really listens, like he’s taking notes.

Something very bad happened to him. You’ve noticed the scars on his hand and his throat, but the sense that he’s been through something awful comes equally from how extremely guarded he always seems. His reservation is the very thing that reduces yours. You’ve been emotionally unavailable for what feels like forever. You think of all the times you ended things after one or two stiff little dates. Corey’s hesitance makes him feel like someone safe.

And he’s just so goddamn pretty. Sometimes you have to look away because it feels like gazing at the sun.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s not a complete coincidence that you’ve started hearing motorcycles more often, not only an illusion of increased frequency.

Corey hadn’t let himself follow you home from the library the other day, but finding the same strength now isn’t always easy. In the evenings after work, on his days off, whenever he’s not busy and he’s not with you, he wonders where you are and what you’re doing. He makes himself work on a project, scrub a circuit board with rubbing alcohol and a q-tip. But inevitably he gets antsy.

His bike carves across town. He passes your apartment, he cuts through the parking lot behind the record store, he lurks across the street from your favorite mom and pop grocery. He’s been going to the library more than ever before. Your habit of texting while walking irritates him, but he always softens a little when he feels his phone vibrate. He makes sure you get home safe on nights you stumble out of a dive bar and into a taxi with Veronica and Rose. A time or two he’s left you a little present, dropping a flower from a nearby tree onto your passenger seat through your barely open window. When he sees a meter maid writing you a ticket he runs over and stops her, putting all the coins in his pocket into the machine to buy you more time.

When he’s with you he’s still nervous, putting a lot of effort into every conversation, always desperate for you to give him The Smile . It still hurts, wrenching the air from his lungs. And it still feels like sinking into a warm bath at the end of a long day. He feels a foreign sensation in your presence: joy.

The guilt however, is familiar and well worn. The thoughts about Allyson, that he had failed to keep her safe, that he had walked away after promising he wouldn’t. It just gets a shiny new coat of paint. He should stay away from you. What if he implicates you, contaminates you. Is he putting you in legal danger by getting close to you? Or physical danger? And is he disrespecting Allyson’s memory? You’ve already gotten more time with him than she ever will. Is that good or bad? How can he keep you from ending up like her?

#corey cunningham #corey cunningham x reader #halloween ends #fan fic #mine #cc

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the-random-phan · 2 years

Text

So Alone (No You're Not)

My @invisobang fic! Sequel to last year's Invisobang fic. Find the links for that here.

It must be read first for this to make any sense at all :)

Word Count: 23,439

Summary:

Phantom's Keep. Much nicer than the old name. But all is not well and stone is not yet set. Danny navigates all of the expectations that are laid out for him as the rising Ghost King and what it really means. Not only for his human life, but Sam and Tucker's as well. Would they really be better off without him bogging them down?

Ao3

FFnet

This post has only the first chapter, you have to go to Ao3 or FFnet for the rest!

MONDAY 8 PM

“I guess we have some time to kill.” Sam wondered aloud. She was laying across the bed, kicking her feet idly. She picked at one of the fur blankets.

The room was full of various drapery and furs. Which made sense, seeing as it was a room fit for a king.

Yeesh, Danny still felt strange thinking about that. It felt like just yesterday Clockwork had popped into his room and demanded a meeting. Only for Danny to discover that, apparently, the GZ itself had chosen him to be the next King and oh, yeah, if he didn’t accept then the entirety of the Infinite Realms would destabilize. No pressure, right?

And if the Realms collapsed, Earth was next on the chopping block. His obsession made the choice for him, no way could he let something like that happen.

Yeah. That was a fun Monday afternoon. A whirlwind of the next two weeks went by, and now the trio were at the Keep. Pariah’s Keep to be exact. Danny felt shivers down his spine as he looked around the room.

Pariah probably used to live here, didn’t he? An unwanted thought told him to tear it to shreds, for what that tyrant had done, but it was washed away by his morals. Dora’s people had already done so much to restore the wartorn Keep, he didn’t want to cause any more damage.

Mattingly -Dora’s Kingdom- were spearheading the heavy project that was restoring the Keep. Dora herself had also been largely helpful in just organizing things, stuff Danny had no idea how to do. She even got him teachers to help him learn all the things he needed to know, if he was ever gonna be a good King. He’d never be able to thank her for all she’s done, but he certainly planned to try.

Sam stood up, walking around the bend in the room, where they hadn’t yet ventured. She found a door she hadn’t noticed at first.

“Check this out!” She shouted, waving them over. Danny came, but Tucker stayed where he’d collapsed on the bed’s pillows. The only response he gave was a tired sigh. When Danny neared he saw Sam, holding open a heavy door. What he saw behind it was shocking. It was a humongous closet, probably almost the size of his bedroom, if a bit narrower.

Sam entered first, surveying the clothes on either wall. She eyed the various pairs of shoes on the bottom shelves. She grabbed one that looked like it would hurt if thrown, but probably wouldn’t leave a bruise. Danny ducked out of her way as she exited, clearly on a mission.

Sam rounded the corner and lobbed the shoe at Tucker’s head.

“Hey!” He shouted, when smacked in the forehead with a heeled boot. Tucker shot up, grabbing the shoe and returning fire before he even realized what he’d been holding.

“What- where did you find a shoe?” Tucker questioned. Sam just took a step back and gestured to the closet. Tucker got up from the bed and looked curiously into the open doorway.

The closet was packed to the brim with clothes, but not unorganized. It was separated into three distinct sections, presumably one for each of them. Dora must've had a hand in picking out the wardrobes, because they were themed in their respective favorite colors. She was the only one who they were vaguely familiar enough with to know such a thing. Although it was also the colors most of them wore every day, so that probably clued her in. Or maybe it was sheer coincidence, who knows?

To the right was a wall of blacks and purples. It was ordered between tops, pants, skirts, and dresses. There were three pairs of shoes- black flats, what looked like black riding boots(one of which was missing), and a short pair of heels. The entire selection really looked like it’d been pulled from a renaissance festival, which Danny supposed was kinda Dora’s style.

It’d been a while since he’d been to one of those. The last time was probably in Middle school when Jazz-

Jazz.

Heckity.

Danny’s promise came back to him suddenly, the one he’d made with Sarah. His core rumbled slightly, nervously, in his chest. If he didn’t tell Jazz about the fight with Dash in the next week, Sarah was gonna tell her for him. Danny lets loose one time and it bites him in the butt. Of course, just his luck. If Jazz got that video without any context she would immediately turn and start trying to psycho-analyze him. He wouldn’t be able to hide anything from her if she was looking for it.

Really, Jazz deserved to know what was going on. But Danny didn’t want to tell her. That’d be like making the whole thing real- if it wasn’t real enough already.

Danny turned back to the room. That was a future Danny problem. (Not Dan, to be exact. Just Danny-but-a-week-from-now. He didn’t want to think about what will have happened in that week).

Sam pawed through her selection of clothes, humming at some of the options. She got a disgusted look on her face when she saw a ballgown. It was at least purple, but still way out of Sam’s usual style. Danny floated to watch over Sam’s shoulder and saw a tag on the dress in ghost speak. Sam turned and held it up for him to read, and Danny did so aloud.

“Every girl needs at least one. From Dorathea.”

“I guess,” Sam said sarcastically. She shoved the dress back into place, intending to forget about it no doubt.

To the right of the closet was a sea of yellows, gold, and various neutral browns. Clearly meant for Tucker. There were comparatively fewer clothes for him than Sam, though it was still a full wardrobe’s worth. Tucker’s eyes sparkled as he marveled at the selection. His was organized similarly, and was just as medieval. But that didn’t seem to bother him. He pulled a few things off the racks and judged them against himself in the mirror. They all looked to be around the right size, if a bit small for him. Tucker’s growth spurt had done him very few favors, so far. (That didn’t keep Danny from being salty that the top of his head only came up to Tucker’s nose.)

Finally, at the end of the room was Danny’s section. An ocean of blues and silver. As well as some whites. A pop of green or two. Danny ran a hand along the fabric. It felt cool beneath his fingertips, obviously not of the Real World in origin. It was native to the GZ, it would seem. That was interesting. He wondered, who in the GZ made clothes? Did full ghosts even have a need for them? And what were they made of? Where did they sell them?

Danny realized suddenly there was so much he didn’t know about the GZ, and its culture. Guess that’s what happens when the only things you do in an alternate dimension are fight and meet up with a time god. And also become High King, apparently.

Sitting on a mannequin was a cape that made Danny’s core skip a beat.

It was a floor-length cloak, with a hood of white fur. The length was ombre, starting at a deep navy blue and ending in a dark teal-green.

Flashes passed before Danny’s eyes, memories of Clockwork’s time mirror and the damning image it’d shown.

Danny stepped forward gingerly. He reached out to the cloak so that he could feel the fabric. It was soft, and cool in his hands. Like a breeze. The fur was a stark white, maybe even brighter than his hair. The clasp was expertly crafted, mimicking Sam’s logo perfectly. It was a work of art, but Danny couldn’t help but hold ill will towards the garment.

A stray thought in his head said to burn it. Let it reduce to ashes in his hands. To take control of the story narrative. But he knew he couldn’t do that. He never would have, the future is the proof. And if that didn’t make him feel a bit hopeless, what would?

Danny abandoned the cloak and perused the rest of the clothes. He whistled lowly. He was particularly drawn to a rack of flowy dress shirts. He felt the material- it was soft and silky. Danny walked to the other side, hand tracing across the clothing yet again.

He marveled at how it all hummed ever-so-slightly under his fingertips.

As Danny was going through his clothes, Sam was pulling things off the rack. She went over to a floor-length mirror that hung in the closet and held things in front of her, comparing their styles. A sudden sharp grin crossed her face.

“What do you guys say to a bit of a fashion show?” She suggested gleefully. Tucker’s head popped up.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” He agreed. They looked to Danny. He shifted awkwardly.

“I suppose it can’t hurt. We just gotta make sure to put everything back.” His friends both shot him thumbs up.

“Since it was my idea I wanna go first, you guys out so I can change.” With that Sam shoved them out of the closet, left to her own devices.

“I wanted to go first.” Tucker mumbled. He threw himself into a plush chair that sat next to the bookshelf.

“How long do you reckon she’ll be?” Danny asked.

“No clue,” Shrugged Tucker. Danny elected to sit on the bed.

Surprisingly, Sam only took a few minutes. She waltzed out like a model.

Sam wore a dark purple shirt that had bell sleeves, which ended around her elbows. Around her waist was a black corset, which had plum roses embroidered into the panels. It was tied in the front with a ribbon. There was a jeweled belt over the corset that had a small chain hanging down off of it. It was offset, dangling off her hip. She wore flowy black pants that disappeared into her riding boots.

Sam had never really been a fantasy goth, but her outfit was certainly striking.

She held up two cloaks, each with a furry black hood. Danny hadn't even seen she had cloaks.

"Black or purple?" She asked, holding either up to her shoulder. Danny was out of his depth. They both looked okay? Fashion wasn’t his forte, he usually stuck to graphic t-shirts and jeans. Maybe a flannel if he was feeling it.

Tucker hummed.

"Maybe black?" He suggested with a shrug. Sam raised a brow quizzically. She tossed it over her shoulder, hastily putting the other back on its hanger. She struck a pose.

“You look kinda like a knight,” Danny remarked. She looked ready to ride into battle in a medieval period drama.

“Yeah?” Sam asked. She spun, watching the various frills and cape flutter. There was a wide grin across her face.

“Do you think they expect us to wear this stuff?” She asked quizzically. She did another spin, in the opposite direction.

Briar had mentioned something about (insulted) their modern clothes, so perhaps? They wouldn't just be there for no reason, right? Oh Danny was already dreading having to pick out clothes, if that was the case. He hoped it wasn’t.

“Honestly, I have no clue.” Danny replied.

“I dunno,” Tucker added with a shrug. Sam made a ‘hm’ sound.

“Well I don’t want to get changed back into my own clothes yet, so one of you go ahead.” Said Sam, throwing her ponytail over her shoulder. When Danny didn’t immediately volunteer, Tucker spoke up.

“I guess I’ll go.” He said, getting up from his seat.

“Any suggestions?” He asked in Sam’s direction. She stepped back into the closet and Tucker followed suit. Danny didn’t want to get up, he just flopped back on the bed.

The sudden movement made Danny’s head hurt. It reminded him suddenly how he’d been in a fight with Dash not even 12 hours ago. Injuries in his human form always lasted longer, though not to the same extent as if he was completely without his ghost half. Just… sluggishly.

His nose in particular was throbbing, each pulse of his core (heart?) making him feel like his head would explode from the pressure. Not a good reminder. He transformed, and a bit of the pain drifted away. Being in ghost form helped a bit, but not nearly as much as he would have liked.

Sam and Tucker talked for a bit, their voices warbling through the walls from the other room. Sam left Tucker on his own a few minutes later. Tuck was in there for a while, longer than Sam had been at least. He practically slammed the door on Sam, even if he shouted an apology a split second later. Sam’s footsteps quieted, then got louder. She wandered over to the bed where Danny laid, and he could feel the shift when she sat down.

“D’you think he thinks he’s hiding his sudden interest in fashion?” Sam asked. A smile found its way onto Danny’s face.

“He probably thinks he’s getting away with it.”

“Yeah, probably.” The conversation petered off. Danny heard the pages of a book turning, and that explained the detour Sam had taken. She paid a visit to the bookshelf.

Danny was hit by a wave of boredom. But he didn't want to waste what precious battery life his phone had. Thus, he was left with nothing to do.

He got bored rather quickly. And by quickly, it was about five minutes later. He finally got up from the bed and decided to explore the room a bit more. If he was gonna be staying here, he might as well familiarize himself with it. In his search. Danny discovered two doors in the back corner. One led to a bathroom, much like he had expected. (Or, at least, wanted it to be. Did full ghosts have any use for a bathroom?)

The most immediate, stand-out feature was a large tub set into the floor. The floor was tile, but the walls of the tub were dark wood, maybe Mahogany? Danny only knew about that type of wood because it made his Dad’s allergies act up. And he’d learned a bit about it in shop class.

The tub was big enough that Danny could probably sit in the middle and his head would be under the water. There was a ring of benches around the semi-circle tub. The bathroom was shaped like a circle, with large windows all around. White curtains filtered the mint green light that streamed in from outside. It bathed the room in a strange hue. Opposite the door was a toilet and to the left was a series of two sinks. Hung on the wall behind each were large, ornate mirrors. There was a rack to the side that held many white and dark blue towels, all folded to perfection.

As he left the bathroom, Danny wondered idly who all had put everything together. He’d done that about a lot of things, recently. He had a lot of people to thank.

The next door was off to his left, along the end wall of the ‘L.’ It was two doors, actually. A set of doubles that were white with silver accents. When Danny reached for the handle, his hand came back covered in dust. He wiped it off on his jeans before venturing inside. Sam noticed he was up to something and followed behind.

“Wow,” Danny mused.

The room before them was long, with floor-to-ceiling windows at the end. They were covered by light curtains that seemed to drift ever-so-slightly, even though Danny couldn’t feel any wind. The walls were a soft baby-blue. Straight ahead was a marble table with plush-looking chairs set around it. A vase of flowers was atop the table, again various colors of blue. Danny wasn’t sure if any flowers in the Real World were even naturally blue, so they must be GZ flowers? He was probably wrong about that. He remembers hearing something about blue roses, once upon a time. Or was that from a video game?

“This looks like a meeting room.” Said Sam.

At the other end of the room was a grand fireplace, though for now it was without a flame. In front of it was a long, wide table. It matched the style of the smaller one but on a much grander scale. This one was also surrounded by chairs, about six on each side and one at the table’s head. There was no chair on the fireplace side.

Danny looked up and was almost disappointed. The ceiling was slightly slanted to the left and had some stylized rafters, but it wasn’t the scene of stars he’d expected. It would seem the only room with such a roof was the ball room.

“Done! Where’d you guys go?” Tucker shouted. Footsteps.

“Whoa,” He marveled as he entered the room. He looked around, absorbing the scene before him. Danny looked away from the scene to see Tucker’s outfit. It wasn’t as much of a… statement, as Sam’s, but tasteful.

His shirt was a muted orange-yellow, with darker embroidery around the collar and the edges of the short sleeves. It was quite long, just a bit shorter than a dress would need to be to maintain any kind of modesty. Maybe tunic was a more accurate word? Danny pulled back on his memories from the books he used to read in middle school. Tucker got him into Dungeons and Dragons for a short stint, and he’d read all the manuals he could find cover-to-cover.

Danny was hit with the epiphany that this kinda felt like he was in the middle of a D&D campaign, when the group gets new outfits after starting a new plotline. Hm.

Underneath the tunic Tucker had chosen an off-white shirt with big sleeves. The collar of it just barely peeked out from under that of the tunic. His pants were mostly the same as Sam’s. But in a rich brown. The pant legs were gathered below his knees, turning into something almost like leggings. He wore a pair of black flats.

And, of course, Tucker had a cape of his own. His was a medium brown, and draped off of his left shoulder. The belt which held it in place went under his right arm, around his chest. Tucker did a half-spin, watching the fabric ripple.

“Nice!” Sam shouted. She and Tucker high-fived. He grinned at the praise. Tucker abruptly turned to Danny. He almost gave himself whiplash, spinning that quick. He schooled his expression into something serious.

“Hypothetically, what would happen if you phased earrings into my ears and then let them turn tangible?” He asked, straight out of left field. It took a moment for the question to even compute.

“You… want me to pierce your ears?” Danny said to make sure he’d heard correctly. Danny didn’t care about Tucker wanting his ears pierced (honestly he’d probably rock it) he was just a bit hesitant it was just the method he proposed.

“Yeah! I thought maybe if we did it that way, it wouldn’t hurt as much.” Tucker shrugged. It seemed his earlier enthusiasm had faded.

“Honestly I’m not really sure what it’d do.” Danny offered. He typically avoided turning things tangible inside other things. But what harm could it really do?

“Let’s try it!”

#danny phantom #dp #ghost king!danny #ghostking!danny #everlasting trio #nonbinary!clockwork #clocky uses they/he pronouns <3 #invisobang 2022 #invisobang #my fic

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underthetree845 · 9 months

Note

any snippets from chapter 7, pretty pleaseeee?? i just cannot wait to see what happens next!!!

HIII I'm so glad you asked!

The progress has been slower than normal- school started back up again for me on Monday. I do have every intention of writing when I am able to find the time an energy for it!

I never plan to abandon this fic, and if I need to stop updating for awhile I'll post about it.

Anyways, with that being that, I hope this is okay:

---

“Eren?” asked Armin, tilting his head and lowering the notebook into his lap. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

There was a pause as your brother tapped his fingers on his textbook before letting out a sigh.

“Alright listen, I’m going to be straight with you- you’ve been acting weird,” Eren stated, looking up to meet his best friend’s eyes.

Armin gulped.

“Weird how?” the blonde tilted his head.

“Weird around my sister, weirder than normal,” Eren continued, narrowing his eyes.

“I-I thought you called me here to help you study for exams,” Armin said with a light laugh. Eren ignored his effort at redirection.

“Why did you seem so relieved when I told you Y/n had plans today?” he questioned, pointing a finger and lightly poking Armin’s chest, “Usually, you’d be totally hyped about being over while she’s here.”

“I wasn’t relieved,” Armin denied, “I was just… happy to… understand where she was?”

“That was a weak lie,” Eren replied, shaking his head. Armin sighed.

“I just- I can’t tell you,” Armin’s attention shifted to the carpet of Eren’s bedroom, fiddling with a piece between his fingers.

“Why not?” Eren asked, crossing his arms.

“Because, I just… can’t. It’s personal to her and I don’t want to get in the way,” Armin tried to explain. That terrible feeling tried to creep into his mind again, it felt like ice spreading into the back of his skull and fire burning in his chest.

“But clearly you two have been having an issue,” your brother continued, “I mean you were fine yesterday when you guys got here from school- suspiciously late may I add- but then at one point during the evening, you came back from putting Y/n’s jacket back all frazzled.”

“That was nothing,” Armin clenched his hand into a fist.

“Really, Armin?” Eren half-scoffed, “Clearly it was something. I heard Y/n and Mikasa mumbling about some stuff last night. Y/n is confused, we both want to know why you’re being so avoidy.”

“Avoidant…” Armin corrected with a mumble.

“Not the point,” Eren leaned forward slightly, “You’re not leaving this room until you tell me.”

---

Y/n got her emotional support from Mikasa and the rest of the girls, so I figured it'd be Armin's turn now. ^^

Have a wonderful day/night/morning/evening! 💙

#first time anyone's ever asked this!#makes me happy ☺#wips #armin arlert #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #armin aot #armin x y/n #armin x reader #aot #eren jeager #aot modern au #snippet #chapter seven #light angst #aot light angst #aot x reader #answered

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atlafan · 4 years

Text

Take it Slow - Part Five

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

(Okay, brace yourselves because this is long. And there is smut, not like full on, but some stuff happens fam. I’m hoping to post part six tomorrow night, and then I won’t be able to update again until Monday due to weekend plans, but we shall see. Thanks so much for the support so far! I’ve been loving writing this story, and there’s a lot more to tell. )

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

Harry picks you up around seven Friday night for your date. You decided to wear jeans and a tank top. Your hair was up in the high pony, and you were feeling good. He had picked up some sushi for dinner. When you got into his place, he placed everything nicely on plates. You bring the food over to the couch while he makes you both a drink: vodka tonic. He sits down next to you, and presses a kiss to the top of your head. Once you both get settled, he turns the TV on. He puts on The Office, and you couldn’t be happier.

After finishing dinner and cleaning up, he throws an arm around your shoulder as you continue to watch TV, and you lean into him.

“You know what I like?” You ask, looking up at him.

“What’s that, love?”

“The smell of your cologne.”

“Oh, really?” He says with a smirk.

“Yup, it smells really good.” You move yourself and throw a leg over him. You press her face into the crook of his neck. He puts his hands around your back, and hugs you close.

You press light kisses to his neck and collar bone. You kiss up to his earlobe and he lets out a happy sigh. You nibble lightly on his earlobe, and his head rolls back. Your hands are pressed to his chest, and then move up to his hair. His hands move to your ass and squeezes you slightly. You move your mouth to meet his, and you crash into each other. Mouths open, and tongues meeting. You taste the vodka on his tongue as you suck on it. He moans into you, and lifts his hips slightly to meet yours. You roll your hips onto him. You grind on him slowly, causing a harsh groan to come from his throat. He detaches from your mouth.

“Can I lay you on the couch?” He says, his chest moving rapidly up and down.

“Please.”

He lays you down, and hovers over you for a moment. He grabs your legs and wraps them around him. He leans down and kisses your neck. You crane it to give him better access. He licks over an area, and begins to suck on the tender skin. You arch your back with pleasure, and press your hips up into him. He presses himself against your center, and the two of you continue to grind against each other. You feel like you could come undone just from rubbing against each him. The hand that isn’t propping himself up is on your waist. He slowly moves it up.

“Can I touch you?” He whispers into your ear.

“Yes, please.” You can barely say it while he continues to grind into you. “Above the shirt.”

He smiles into your neck, and continues to kiss you. His hand moves up to your breast, and kneads it. You arch your back again. His fingers are able to feel the piercing through the fabric of your shirt and thin bra. He twists it a little, and you gasp.

“Did that hurt?” He asks, moving to look at you, pupils blown out.

“No, opposite of hurt.” You push on his chest and you both sit up. You take a deep breath. Your pants feel uncomfortably wet, but you ignore it. “Okay, I’d like for our shirts to come off.”

“Are you sure?” Your eyes dart down to the tightness in his crotch.

“Yes.”

You tug at the hem of his shirt and he lifts his arms so you can take it off of him. You stare at his torso for a moment. You couldn’t believe how many tattoos he had, and they were beautiful. Your hands trace over every one, and goosebumps raise on his flesh. You squint at two extra bumps.

“I, uh, have four nipples.”

“Cute.” You say, poking them. “Okay, my turn.” You lift your arms up.

He looks at you again, asking for approval, and you nod yes. He lifts your tank top over your head. He looks at your large breasts in your thin bra. He grabs your face and pulls you in for a kiss. His hands move to your back.

“Can I take this off?”

“Please.”

He unhooks your bra in a couple of swift movements. He pulls it down your shoulders, and tosses it to the floor. He brings you back on top of his lap so you both can sit comfortably. His hands move over your soft skin slowly. He kneads both of them at first. He kisses you on the mouth to swallow your moans, and then kisses down your neck and chest. He kisses down your left breast, while his right hand continues to knead its twin. As he begins to suck on your left nipple, your head rolls back. He sucks with more vigor as he notices your pleasure from it. He kisses across your chest to suck on your other breast, taking a lot in his mouth at first and then letting his teeth graze over your piercing.

“Ugh, fuck, Harry.” You groan, and dig your hands into his hair. You roll your hips on him, and let him push up into you.

In a bold move, and without thinking, you reach down between the two of you, and palm him through his pants. He nearly throws you off of him, instead placing you next to him on the couch. You cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m so sorry, was that too forward? What you were doing just felt so good, and I had a reaction.”

“No, I was just surprised you wanted to touch me.”

“Of course I want to touch you, you have no idea how badly I want to touch you.” His chest is moving rapidly. He opens his mouth and then closes it. “What? Tell me what’s on your mind. I know this might seem confusing.”

“No, it’s not confusing. I mean, clearly you feel way more comfortable since we spoke yesterday, and I’m so happy about that. I just don’t want you to do something because you think you need to.” You tilt your head to the side and smile.

“I’m not saying I’m ready to go all the way or anything, but we could touch through our clothes.” You say looking down, blushing.

“Could we move to the bed for that?”

“Yes.”

He gets up, and scoops you up in his arms. He carries you over to the bed. He climbs on next to you.

“Would you prefer to be on top?” He asks you. He’s being so caring, you could almost cry. Instead of answering him, you push his shoulders down and get on top of him.

His hands move back up to your breasts as you grind down on him. You can feel him, you wonder if he’s almost in pain from how hard he is.

“Harry.” You say into his ear. “Can I unbutton you?” You wanted to give him the same courtesy he was giving you.

“Please.”

You reach between the two of you, unbutton his pants, and drag the zipper down. You stick your hand in, and palm him through his boxers. He hisses now that your hand is closer. His eyes dart down to your hand. He feels big and thick. You feel hot all over, and you know your panties are completely soaked. You desperately want him to do the same to you.

“Roll onto your side.” You say to him and you slide off, and go onto your side. He turns to face you, and you continue to palm him. You can feel him dripping. You’re incredibly turned on by this. “Harry, do to me.” Is all you can say.

He doesn’t waste any time unbuttoning your pants and getting the zipper down. He slowly reaches his hand in. Careful not to dip into your underwear, his fingers slide over you.

“Fuck, (y/n), you’re soaked.” He says through gritted teeth.

“All for you.” You say, grinding into his hand.

His fingers trace over your center and up to your clit, he knows he’s found it when you start breathing heavier. You move your hand faster on him, and he does the same to you.

“Shit, Harry, I’m going to…” He crashes his mouth to yours.

“Go ahead, love, release.” He says against your lips.

As you cry out, you hear him say your name, and feel a wetness on your hand. You couldn’t believe you came at the same time. Even more you couldn’t believe you came from just him stroking you through your underwear. You both lay there for a second, letting your breathing go back to normal.

You watch him slide his pants down his legs, and kick them to the floor. You see the wet spot on his boxers and your eyes nearly pop out. He came, and he came hard. He looks over at you and kisses you on your sweaty forehead.

“Do you, um, want to shower?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Not with me.” He laughs.

“Wouldn’t you like to shower?”

“I can just clean up quick while you’re in there. I don’t want you to feel, um, uncomfortable.”

“A shower would be great.”

“Alright, let me grab you a towel, and something to change into.”

You watch him saunter over to his dresser. He pulls outs a t-shirt and some grey pajama pants. He holds them up for you and you nod. He gestures for you to follow him to the bathroom. You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling very exposed. You can’t help but stare at his seemingly perfect body. You go into his bathroom. It’s way cleaner than you expected for a man’s bathroom. He has a decent size tub-shower. He grabs a towel out of the linen closet, and place everything on top of the toilet for you.

“So, I’ll just turn it on for you, and you can tell me if the temp is good. Feel free to use any of my wash. I also have a spare toothbrush…” He grabs it out of the medicine cabinet. “You know, if you want to spend the night.”

“Are you asking me to?”

“Yes, would you please stay?”

“I’d love to.” You put your hand in the water. “It’s perfect.” You kiss him softly on the cheek.

“I’ll leave ya to it.”

He smiles and closes the door behind him. You instinctively lock it. You wiggle your soaked pants down your legs. You look at your panties and you can’t believe that they’re literally soaked through. You fold everything up, and hop into the shower. The warm water feels amazing on your body. You open his body wash and smell it. You smile because it smells like Harry. You put some in your hands and lather it onto your body. After rinsing, and letting the water run between your legs, you turn the water off, and grab the towel. You wrap it around yourself and dry off. You hang the towel up on the back of the door, and change into the clothes he left for you. They were huge on you. Of course they were. You’re only a little over five feet tall, and he’s almost six-three. You liked the way you swam in his clothes, it made you feel safe. You brush your teeth quickly, and wonder if you bought the spare brush recently.

You walk out of the bathroom, and leave the fan running to help with the steam. You see Harry laying on his back, an arm behind his head, watching more of The Office. He seemed to have changed, and had a pair of sweat pants on. He didn’t bother to put a shirt on. You walk up next to him, he turns his head and smiles.

“Look at you, you look so cute.” He giggles. He moves over and helps you climb on the bed. You boop his nose and snuggle up into him, with his arm around you.

“That was really nice, earlier.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nuzzle into his bare chest, and he holds you tighter.

About an hour later, you both decide to go to sleep. He starts off holding you at first, but when you wake up in the middle of the night, you find yourself spooning him. His hand wrapped around yours. You pull him in closer to you, and sigh in happiness.

You both wake up a little after nine in the morning. He notices your arms around him, and he turns to face you. He pushes some hair that fell from your ponytail out of your face. Your eyes flutter open. It takes you a minute to remember where you are. You snuggle into him, hiding your face in his neck.

“Are we a little shy this morning?” He says quietly, rubbing your back. He feels you nod yes, and he chuckles. “Would you like some coffee?” He feels you nod again. He tries to get up, but you cling to him. You’re not sure what it is, but you feel needy, and don’t want his warmth to leave you. “Alright then, up we go.”

Harry effortlessly lifts you off the bed, and you wrap your legs around him. His hands move under your thighs to keep you up, and your arms wrap around his shoulders. He walks you both over to his coffee maker. He adds some water, and turns it on. He rests you on top of the counter, and you swear you heard a small whimper leave you.

“Sorry, love, I need a wee.” He smiles at you and disappears into the bathroom. You realize that you need to go as well. He comes back a few moments later. You hope off the counter and go into the bathroom. When you come back Harry is facing the counter waiting for the coffee to finish. You wrap your arms around his waist and nuzzle into his back. “There’s my shy girl.” You laugh into him, and let go.

“I don’t know why I’m acting like this, I’m sorry.” You give him a half smile as he pours you a cup of coffee.

“Don’t be, I think it’s cute.”

“Do you have any cream or anything?”

“Shit, no, sorry. I drink it black.”

“That’s alright, I can manage.” You take a sip of the bitter coffee, and try to hide your disgusted face.

“I’ll, uh, buy some dairy free creamer.” He runs a hand through his hair.

“Don’t be silly.” You swat an arm at him. You see your clothes folded up on the floor and go to grab them. You go into the bathroom with your purse. You decide to just go commando, not wanting to put your panties back on. You debate on keeping his shirt, but you don’t want to push it. You stuff your bra into your purse as well. Harry’s eyes grow wide when he sees you bounce into the kitchen with just your tank top and jeans on.

“You coulda kept my clothes on, love.”

“That’s okay, I try not to hang out in pajamas too much.” He notices your piercings through your shirt, and his head tilts with a smile.

“You don’t make it easy do you?” You blush. “You’re so sexy.”

“I thought I was cute.” You tease.

“You’re both.” He goes over to his dresser and grabs a fresh shirt for himself. “You’re looking to leave?”

“Well, I don’t want to take up your whole day.”

“Right, because spending the day with you would be such a chore.” He says sarcastically. He comes close to you, and presses his forehead to yours.

“You’re cute too.”

Harry took you home, and you took a long shower. You made yourself a smoothie, and contemplated calling one of your girlfriends to let them know about the amazing man that has come into your life. Before you get a chance, one of them calls you. You see the name Rachel come up on your screen.

“Hey, Rach.”

“Girl, where have you been? You’ve been busy every weekend!”

“Only for like two weeks.”

“Well, we’d love to see you, can you come out tonight?” You stop to think of Harry. You wanted to spend tonight with him, but you hadn’t solidified any plans.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Drinking and dancing of course!”

“I could be down for that. Text me the details later.” You hang up. You feel excited to see your friends.

You decide to text Harry that you’re seeing your friends tonight, but something stops you. It’s not like he’s your boyfriend, he doesn’t need to know where you are at all times.

You end up running a straightener through your hair, and pull it half up. You wear a short, black pencil skirt and a blue short sleeve shirt. You take an uber to meet your friends at your favorite bar. They squeal when they see you. Your married friend Kate isn’t there, but you’re not surprised. You give Rachel, and your other friend Sarah, a hug.

“Damn, you look good.” Rachel says to you.

“Thank you.” Sarah hands you your drink. Just as you three hit the dance floor, you get a Facetime request from Harry. Shit. You run to the bathroom to take the call.

“Heyyy.” You drunkenly say.

“Hi, where are ya?”

“In a batharoom atta bar.” Your friends walk in and see what you’re doing. The get in frame. “With my girlfriends.” They squeal when they see Harry. “Guys, gimme a minute.” You glare at them, and they leave you alone. “Sorry, I shoulda told ya I was going out tonight.”

“S’okay, it’s not like we had plans.”

“But I did wanna see you again tonight. You should come out!”

“I’m not into the dancing thing.”

“You don’t have to dance. You can come drink. Oh! Bring Niall! He’s never met my friends, which sounds weird now that I say it out loud.”

“Alright, I’ll call him and see what he’s up to. What bar are ya at?”

“Tucci’s.”

You both hang up, and meet your friends back at the bar.

“Alright, who the f was that?” Rachel asks.

“This guy I’ve been seeing, his name is Harry.”

“So that’s why you’ve been so busy! Is he gonna come out?”

“Yeah, and I think he’s going to bring our friend Niall.”

“Oo, the elusive Niall.” Sarah says.

About thirty minutes later, Harry and Niall show up, and they both look good. Your friends jaws drop. You walk over to Harry. He takes a really good look at you. From your crop top to your skirt to your heels. You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing yourself to his body. You kiss him on the lips.

“Hi Niall.” You say turning to your friend.

“Hey, thanks for the invite.” He winks. “Those your friends?”

“Mhm.” You wave them over. “Rachel, Sarah, this is Niall, and Harry.

They all introduce themselves. Harry and Niall go to get themselves drinks. Harry still can’t get over how good you look. If he had it his way, he’d take you into the bathroom right now. But you were still taking it slow. You all found a high top table to stand at. You clung to Harry’s side, and he enjoyed the attention. You and your friends hear one of your songs, you all squeal and rush to the dance floor. Harry is surprised by you. His shy girl from this morning completely gone.

He watches you shake your ass to the beat, and wishes you were the only two people there.

“Well, lad, should we go join em?”

“Oh no, I’m not going to make a fool of myself.”

“What? You’re a great dancer mate. Her friend Sarah is really cute, so I’m gonna go join them.” Niall starts to walk away. Harry rolls his eyes as he watches his friend effortlessly join the ladies.

They all dance as a group to the song that is causing them to have so much fun. You throw your hair up in your high pony as you are starting to feel beads of sweat run down your neck. You look over and see Harry sipping on his drink. Rachel had started dancing with some girl, and Sarah had fallen under Niall’s Irish spell. A song with a bit of a slower beat comes on, so you walk over to Harry. He gives you a fake pout.

“Whatsa matter?” You say looking up at him with big, glazed over eyes.

“Nothin’, just haven’t seen ya all night.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I haven’t gone out with my friends in a while. I forgot how much I love to dance. This song is slower, would you come dance with me?” He wants to say no, but he can’t with you looking up at him like a little puppy. He sighs big and nods. “Yay!” You grab his hand and pull him onto the dance floor.

You wrap your arms around his back, and nuzzle into his chest. His arms go around your shoulders, and he gives gentle taps and rubs. You both sway back and forth. This isn’t so bad. He thinks to himself. Niall looks over and gives Harry a wink, as he is slow dancing with Sarah. Harry places his chin on top of your head, and you couldn’t be happier that he came out tonight. The song ends and fades into more of a club hit. You peel yourself from him, and look up. He just shakes his head no.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby. No one’s going to judge you if you dance a little faster.”

“I just look like a big giraffe or something.”

“Then, stay close to me.”

You turn around, pressing your bum lightly to his pelvis. You take his arms and wrap them around your stomach. Sarah drags Niall over so she can dance with him the same way, but closer to you, so you can still chat. You move your hips from side to side and Harry’s hands move down right to where your hip bones are. He moves slightly to the same rhythm as you. You spot Rachel with her tongue down some girl’s throat, and get Sarah’s attention. You both start giggling.

“Guess we know where she’s headed tonight!” Sarah yells to you.

“Yup! Good for her! She could use some fun!” You yell back.

Sarah turns around so she can face Niall as they continue to grind together. Rachel walks over to you all with the girl’s hand in hers. She leans in to whisper to you.

“I’m headed out. Tell Sarah not to make too much noise when she comes home. I’ll be busy.” She winks at you, and heads out with the girl.

Your eyes flick up over at Sarah and Niall who are now making out. Your jaw nearly hits the floor. You turn around to look at Harry, whose eyes are closed and has a smile on his face. He looks down at you as he notices your change in movement.

“Do ya see that?” You ask, pointing over at your two best friends. “I should’ve introduced them before!”

“Yeah, looks like they’re getting’ on well.” You were happy for Niall, and for Sarah. You wanted everyone to feel the way you did with Harry. You wrap your arms around his neck, and press your pelvis with his to continue dancing. His hands slide down to your ass, and you feel the strain in his pants rub against you. “You know, I think your friend Rachel had the right idea.” He says in your ear.

“What’s that?”

“To get outta here, have a little different kind of fun.” You looked up at him, an eyebrow raised but a devious grin forming as well.

“Okay, wanna go back to my place?” Harry nods.

“Oi!” He yells over to Niall to grab his attention. He points at you and then points to the exit. Niall gives him a thumbs up, and goes back to kissing Sarah. “Alright, let’s go.”

Niall drove Harry, so he ordered you both an uber. You couldn’t wait to get home, you desperately needed to pee. You could feel all the alcohol from the night running through your body. Harry opens the door to the uber for you, and slides in. As he gets in, he puts an arm around you, and you place a hand on his thigh.

“I’m so glad you came out tonight, Harry.” You coo, not caring if the uber driver listens in.

“Me too, love. I didn’t ruin ya girl’s night then?”

“No, not at all!” He raises a finger to his lips to signal to bring it down a notch. “Sorry,” you whisper, “not at all.” You giggle. “In fact, I think you made it even better. Rachel always ends up leaving Sarah and I, and since Kate wasn’t there…” You look down, suddenly feeling sad.

“Which one is Kate? The married one?”

“Yeah, I miss her sooo much.”

“Why didn’t she come out?”

“She makes a big deal about having to come into the city to have fun. She invites us over once in a while, but then we’d all have to sleep over, which you’d think would be fun, but she never stays with us. She always goes up to bed with her husband.”

“Well, didn’t you say he used to be part of your friend group too? Why doesn’t he just come with you all?”

“Ever since he became a doctor he became a total stick in the mud. He always has to get up early or some other bullshit, as if the rest of us don’t have meaningful jobs.” You roll your eyes. “He can be a real ass hat. It’s like once him and Kate got together, he thought he was better than everyone else.” Harry gives your shoulder a little squeeze, he can sense you’re upset.

“If you miss her, why not give her a call soon? Maybe you two could meet up for coffee?”

“We have a standing monthly coffee date that we keep to. I try not to stress her out. They’ve been trying to get pregnant basically since they got married. She’s always wanted to be a mom. But they’ve been having a lot of trouble. Which is honestly frightening because she’s the same age as me.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, you’d think at twenty-four you wouldn’t have any issues getting pregnant. To be fair though she has that thing, not PCOS, the other thing.” You look up at him as if he would have any clue. “Oh! Endometriosis, that’s what it is, she has that, and that can make it hard. Sometimes I feel like the people that would make the best parents are the people that have trouble having kids.”

“Good thing adoption is a thing.” He says to you, trying to lighten the mood. A light bulb goes off in your head.

“You know something, I’ve never even asked you about your family, and I’ve barely told you about mine.”

“And?”

“Isn’t that weird?”

“I’ll tell you what, tomorrow, when we’re both sober, I’ll tell you all about my family.” He smiles at you. He’s not a chatty drunk like you are. You know you need to shut up.

The uber finally pulls up to your building, and you both get out. Harry helps you key inside. You let him use the hall bath, and he can’t help but chuckle at the way you lightly jog to your own bathroom. When you finish you find him over by your sink filling two glasses of water.

“I don’t wanna.” You say as he tries to hand you a glass.

“C’mon, you needa drink some water.”

“No, it’s gonna make me not feel good.” You know you sound whiny, but you can’t help it. You’re drunk.

“Please, love.”

“You always call me that. Ever since we met, it’s love this and love that. Couldn’t you think of a different thing to call me?” He takes a step back from you, a little surprised at your tone. “Sorry, it’s not that I don’t like it, it just feel generic, like you probably call everyone love. It’s like the way you and Niall call each other mate.”

“Are you asking me to come up with a pet name for you? Is that what you want?” You snatch the glass of water from him, and take slow sips. You shrug your shoulders as you now feel embarrassed. “There have been a couple times I’ve almost called you babe or something, but I thought it might be too soon.” Your eyes feel huge when you gaze up at him and smile. “You want me to call you babe?” He asks nicely.

“I wouldn’t hate it. What do you want me to call you? Do you like babe, or baby?” You blink a few times. “I mean, I’ll call you anything you want, just as long as it’s not daddy.” You start laughing, but his mouth presses into a straight line.

“Why would you think I’d want to be called daddy?”

“Well I didn’t think you’d want to be called it, it was just a joke.”

“Has someone made you call them that before?” Your head whips in his direction. Oh no. You are not have more conversations about past men in your life. Not now, at this hour, while you’re still intoxicated.

“N, no.”

“You’re lying. Tell me.” Is this how he is when he’s drunk? Of the jealous type?

“I was in college, and I was texting this guy on Tinder. And you know how that can go sometimes.”

“I don’t actually.”

“Are you getting mad at me?”

“No, I just don’t understand these men you’ve interacted with. Was this guy college age too?”

“Yeah, he was a year ahead of me I think. Coulda been in grad school. I never actually met up with him. We just, you know, sexted.”

“Sexted?” He repeats the word like he never heard it before.

“Yeah, you know like dirty talk but over text.”

“I know what it is. So this guy was doing that with you via text, where you easily could have screen shotted it, and he asked you to call him daddy?”

“I’m not one to kink shame, but it was very weird to me. He had said something like, would you be a good girl for daddy, and that’s when I immediately unmatched him because I knew where that was going, and I didn’t want it.” Harry burst into laughter.

“Would you be a good girl for daddy?!” He repeats, wiping tears from his eyes. “Oh, that is something that I will be bringing up periodically from now on.”

“Harry!” You say, cheeks red with embarrassment. You plaster your forehead to his chest.

“Don’t get shy on me now, love, babe.” He corrects himself. “Look up at, daddy.” He barely gets through the word and starts laughing.

“I never should have even brought it up!” You pull away and cross your arms.

“Relax, I’m only teasing.” He places a hand under your chin, and turns your head towards him. “You can call me babe too, if ya want.”

“I feel gross, I’m gonna shower.”

“Now?!”

“Yes now, I was dancing all night. I’m caked in sweat.”

“I think you’re too drunk for that right now. Why not just change, and shower in the morning.”

“Because I would like to make out for bit, and I’d rather not smell gross, if that’s alright with you. I’m sobering up anyways.” It was a lie. You weren’t sobering up, but you had showered drunk before. “I just need a few minutes.” You realize something. “Oh! You haven’t even seen my room yet! C’mon, I’ll give ya the tour.” You grab his hand and yank him down the hall to your bedroom.

It was a cute room. You had a queen size bed in the middle, with two small bed side tables. You had a bureau with a mirror behind it, and a tall chest. The room also came with a decent size sliding door closet. You had a small, neat desk with a laptop on it. You had a fuzzy rug under the bed, to keep your toes warm during the colder mornings. You had lights strung up around the perimeter. Some college habits die hard. You watched Harry’s eyes as they gazed around the different shades of blue. Your rug was a baby blue, and your comforter was navy. He gathered that was your favorite color.

“Wow.” Is all he can say.

“The furniture was a gift from my mom. She said if I was going to have a big girl apartment, then I’d need a big girl bedroom set. I was really surprised because she’s usually quite frugal.” You tug on his shirt to lead him to the bathroom.

It was all white. You had a tub shower, something on your checklist you weren’t willing to give up. It’s impossible to properly shave your legs in a stall shower. It was clean, you did a good job of that. You had pink, fluffy towels stacked in a makeshift linen closet.

“So now you’ve seen everything here. Go make yourself comfy in my room while I shower. I’ll be in and out.” He looks at you for a moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it, and just nods. He leaves the bathroom, and you close the door behind you. You wondered if he was going to slyly suggest taking a shower together, but you knew he knew better.

You turn the water on and began to undress. The water felt amazing on your skin. You lathered up with your body wash, and used your facial scrub to get all your makeup off. When you got out, you wrapped yourself in your soft towel. You rummaged through your linen closet to check your extra supplies. You had a couple of spare tooth brushes. You walk into your room, with just your towel on. Harry immediately sits up, and gives you a look.

“I have a toothbrush for you.” You toss it to him, and he places it on the night table.

“Thanks.” He says still giving you a funny look.

“What?” You put a hand on your hip.

“Just a towel?” He looks you up and down. You feel your cheeks flush. You hadn’t even realized you forgot to bring clothes in with you because you usually don’t need to. Your hands clutch at the top of the towel that so easily could’ve fallen down. Harry, the gentleman he is, looks away from your direction.

“Wow, I am drunk.” You scoff to yourself. You go into your bureau and pull out an oversized shirt and some shorts, and scurry back into the bathroom. You hang up your damp towel and come back out. “Much better. I wish I had something for you to wear to bed.” You frown at him.

“S’alright, I’m good with just my boxers, if that works for you.”

“Sure.” You smile, and hop onto your bed. You go right for him, and straddle over him. You lay your head on his chest, and he puts his hands on your back.

“Hello there.” He says in a calming voice.

“Hi.” You nuzzle into his soft shirt. He starts rubbing your back up and down, and your body sinks further on top of him, leaving no space between you two.

“(y/n)?” You hear his heart beating really fast.

“Yeah?”

“Would you say I’m your boyfriend?” Your head pops up and you look at him intently.

“One more time?”

“Would you say I’m your boyfriend?” He asks again, even more clearly than before.

“Would, would you like to be?” Was it too soon to be asking this? It had literally only been three weeks. Not even a month! Is this what other people did? You guess it felt good to know he was thinking about these sort of things.

“Yeah, I would. I’d certainly like to refer to you as my girlfriend.” Was he talking about you to other people? His friends at work? You lean down and kiss him on the nose.

“Alright, then you’re my boyfriend, and I’m your girlfriend.” You shyly say.

He cupped your face in his hands, and pulled you in for a kiss. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, asking for permission to enter. You part your lips for him, and his warm tongue entered your mouth. Your hands balled fists into the top of his shirt. His hands slowly moving down your backside, squeezing and kneading your cheeks. You roll your hips onto him, and you catch a groan from him in your mouth. You start sucking his tongue, causing him to groan louder. You love the sounds he makes. It’s all for you. You’re the one doing this to him. He presses his hips up to yours to create some friction, and you press down on him. His chest is moving up and down rapidly, and he breaks your kiss to catch his breath. He presses his forehead to your covered chest. He lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.”

“Now who’s the liar?” You place your hand under his chin, and force him to look up at you. “Talk to me.”

“I’m afraid to say it because I don’t want you to think I’m pushing it because you agreed to be my girlfriend.” Your face falls with guilt.

“Please, just tell me what you’re thinking. It’s okay.”

“I, desperately, just want to taste you.” His eyes pierce into you, but you give him a confused look.

“You have tasted me, though.” You stick your tongue out at him and point to it. He smirks at your innocence.

“No, precious girl, not there. I’d like to taste where your other lips are.” His voice, going an octave lower. Your eyes grow wide, pupils slightly blown at the statement. “But, I know you’re not ready for that, and I’m not going to push you into it.”

“Wouldn’t you rather me do it to you?” You’re so confused. His cheeks start to flush.

“Not, necessarily. I mean I like that, don’t get me wrong, but…”

“But what?” He sighs, not sure how to phrase it. “Do you actually like doing that?”

“Yes, of course, what guy doesn’t?” He furrows his eyebrows at you.

“Um, lots of them.” Here you two go again, bringing up things from the past.

“Well, not me. I really like it, actually.”

“What does it do for you though?” Were you about to charter into the territory that is Harry’s kink?

“Okay, so I know most guys will do it quick because they know that’s what a woman wants right?” You nod. “But I do it, not only because I know a woman wants it, but I get a great deal of pleasure by giving others pleasure.” You want to tell him to say pleasure again.

“Oh, I see.”

“But again, I’m not going to make you do something you don’t want to do yet.”

“You’re frustrated with me?”

“No! God no, but I can’t help that when you press on me like that, that my mind wanders to where I’d like my mouth to be on you.” He tucks a loose piece of hair behind your ear. You start contemplating everything. If he likes doing that, then he clearly has experience, and if he has experience then he must know what he’s doing down there. You’re genuinely curious and extremely turned on.

“Harry, I’ll be honest, I’m not ready for full on sex with you.” You take a moment. “But I’d be lying if I said my mind hasn’t wandered to you doing that to me too.” His eyes perk up. “And, well, if you’d like to give that a try with me tonight, I think I’d be okay with it, but I may tell you to stop if it gets to be too much for me.”

“(y/n), I really don’t want to push you into this.”

“You’re not, I promise, um, I just want to take this slow still. But I feel really comfortable with you. I mean I let you rub me last night, and that alone felt amazing. So we can at least give this a try.”

“Only if you’re sure, baby.”

“I’m sure.” You crawl off of him, and sit up against the head board. He sits up further as well. “I’d like to leave my shirt on though, so I’m not completely exposed to you all at once.”

“Of course.”

“And, um, I’d like the light dimmed.” You point to the dim switch on the opposite wall.

Harry gets up and dims the light slowly, and waits for you to say when. He can still sort of see you, but it’s definitely dark.

“Can I take my shirt off?”

“Yes.”

“And my jeans? I don’t know if I’ll come, but I’d rather not risk getting it on my pants again.”

“Mhm, just leave your underwear on, please.” He nods, and takes his clothes off. You appreciate how caring he is. More importantly, how understanding.

He comes back over to the bed, and kneels in front of you.

“Could you skootch down a bit? It’s a little easier if you’re flat on your back.” You do as he asks, careful to keep your legs glues together.

He hovers over you for a moment, and kisses you. He kisses your forehead, your nose, your lips, each cheek and your chin. He plants kisses on your jaw and down your neck. His hand lightly grazes over your breast.

“This okay?”

“Yes.”

He cups you through your shirt, kneads you a little. This helps you relax since you’ve done this with him before. It’s familiar, and lovely. He gives your pierced nipples a little pinch before running his hands down to the waistline of your shorts. He lifts your shirt, only a little.

“I’m commando, so just like, you know.” He nods.

He slowly tugs on the shorts. Pulling them just below your hip bones. He plants wet kisses around your naval, taking your piercing between his teeth, only for a moment. He kisses each hip.

“I’m going to take your shorts off now, okay?”

“Okay.”

You lift your hips a little so he can tug them down your bum, and your legs. He tosses them on the floor, and looks up at you. You’re as stiff as a board.

“Doin’ alright?”

“Mhm, so far so good.”

“Could you um, spread your legs for me a little?” You lift your legs, and bend them at the knees. Still keeping your thighs pressed together. He kisses the tops of each knee to bring you some comfort.

“Harry?”

“Yes?”

“Could we play some music, I think that would help. It’s so quiet in here.”

“Sure, what would you like?”

“Um, hold on.”

You reach for your phone, and connect to your Bluetooth speaker. You make sure the volume isn’t too high, and you start playing The Weeknd. Harry stifles a laugh.

“No good?” You ask him.

“No, no it’s fine. Just not what I was expectin’ from ya.”

“It, um, usually puts me in the mood when I, well, you know.” You feel your face heat up. Harry smirks at the image of you touching yourself.

“Learning a lot about each other tonight. I like it.” You giggle, and part your knees, only a little.

He kisses down from your left knee, to your inner thigh. He gets very close to your center. You’re wet for him, you know you are, you can feel it. He blows on you at first, sending a shocking cool wave through you, making your hips buck up, and making you gasp. He presses a hand down on your right hip to help keep you steady.

“I just have one thing before you begin.”

“What’s that?”

“Please only use your tongue. I’m not ready for hands or fingers or anything like that, okay?”

“Alright.” He gives you a reassuring smile. With that that you let him get to work.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #fanfiction #harry styles imagine #yall know i had to leave it on a cliff hanger #youll get more in part six i promise

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seriouslyhooked · 4 years

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Honeymoon Fades (A CS Fic)

CS oneshot that provides a snippet into their married life after 30 years together. Includes fluff, feels, and cuteness. Short, sweet, and the perfect weekend treat. Find on FF here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey all! This is a short drabble based on the song ‘Honeymon Fades’ by Sabrina Carpenter. This story picks up on Emma and Killian when they’re children are all grown and they’ve been together nearly 30 years. Spoiler alert – the cuteness perseveres after all their years together, and in some ways they’re like honeymooners, still as in love and happy as they were just post-wedding. Hope you enjoy the cuteness and thanks so much for reading!

The silence in this house was still a foreign thing to Emma. After so many years of raising her family, and decades of craziness that she wouldn’t trade for anything, quiet moments still felt like a real commodity. They used to be so few and far between, and every time they found them, she and Killian made use of them. They lived a life of constant motion, and they were always go-go-go, but it kept things fresh and interesting. They were never lacking for love and excitement around here, at least they never used to be.

Now, however, things were different. Take this morning for example. It was 9:00 and she was only just rolling out of bed. She was off today from the station, where she was beginning to take a number of steps back. Her brother Neal had been working with her and her Dad for years, deciding he wanted to join the family business, and he was now the newly elected town sheriff. Emma still worked at the station and ran point on many aspects of Storybrooke’s response team, but even with that, there was never enough to do. She ‘worked’ from 9-5 Monday to Friday, mostly just conferring with the townspeople on what needs they had and what the town could do for them. And then the weekends she had off, totally free, never any hiccups. Just two whole days of… well, whatever the hell she wanted.

Despite the fact that this free-weekend thing was normal (it had been about a year since she agreed to the schedule shift), she was still awed by the premise. When the kids were still home, nearly every moment that she wasn’t working was dedicated to them, to their games, and plays and homework and lives. But now their nest was empty. The kids all had their own worlds and agendas, and weekends were becoming a time when Emma and Killian could genuinely relax.

This morning was the perfect example. After waking up bright and early in her husband’s arms, and after their heated exchange of what Killian always called ‘good morning pleasantries’ (code for sex that had no right to be that hot after how long they’d been together), Emma had fallen back asleep while Killian rested only briefly before heading out to go for a sail or run some errand or another. No matter how much quiet they had, her husband was still an early riser. No amount of downtime would change that. But for Emma a lazy morning was a luxury, one that she soaked in and cherished after years of never having them.

As she showered and got dressed, Emma found herself smiling, knowing that she was a lucky woman in every possible way. She was blessed with healthy kids, a network of supportive friends and family, and a true love who was always in her corner. The sun was shining in Storybrooke, and the summer heat was already beginning to climb. She had a whole host of possible paths to wander today. She could go for a hike, or tend to the garden out back. She could drive up the coast and explore the world beyond, or she could take it easy and relax, luxuriating in this happy, stress-free moment that they currently had going. But whatever she did, Emma knew she’d have company for the ride.

Moving downstairs Emma caught the scent of bacon and coffee in the air, she closed her eyes and hummed out a sound of contentment. Spoiled – that was what she was, and as she walked into the kitchen and saw Killian flipping some blueberry pancakes she leaned against the doorway and bit her lip. Damn, nearly thirty years together, and he was still too hot to handle. Standing there, making her breakfast with that mix of salt and pepper in his hair, her pirate was still fit and ready for whatever fight might come their way. There were more laugh lines etched upon his skin, and he might move just a touch slower than he did back in the early days, but the light in his blue eyes that sparked when he caught sight of her still pierced down to her soul, and the sexy grin of his made her heart skip a beat.

“Finally, the lady wakens,” he joked and Emma shook her head and smiled as she kissed him quickly and then moved around him to pour herself a cup of coffee.

“Sounds like someone missed me.”

“You know how I feel about being away from you, Swan.” The growl in his voice sent a thrill of anticipation down her spine. Damn this man and his sexiness. Thirty years wasn’t enough to get used to him, and some days she still felt like a honeymooner as opposed to a couple long settled and established.

“You’re not a fan as I recall,” she teased and she let out a yelp when he swatted at her ass with the hard metal of his hook. She blushed in spite of herself, thinking of all the times that particular appendage had made itself known before. She could tell from his deep chuckle that he read her like a book, and she cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Any thoughts on what we should do today, Captain?”

“Whatever my wife wishes, I reckon,” he quipped as he placed their plates on the kitchen counter and he held out her chair, tucking her in like a true gentleman before taking his own seat. They discussed the possibilities as they ate, and he caught her up on some friendly neighborhood gossip that he’d heard down at the market, but when their meal was done and they moved to clear the dishes, Emma noticed a little sadness in Killian’s eyes. Immediately she knew the reason for it.

“You miss the kids, don’t you?”

“Aye, love. How could you tell?”

Emma didn’t have the heart to tell her pirate that his expression was totally transparent. Instead she came to cuddle with him, her arms encircling him as he did the same. This was her favorite spot, tucked in her with her true love. It was always her safest space and the place she felt like things would always be okay. Now though it was Killian who needed that anchor, and she was more than willing to give it to him.

“Because I miss them too,” Emma confessed, knowing it was silly. She saw all of her children nearly every day, and they were all in constant contact. Still it wasn’t the same, and time, as beautiful a gift as it was, was also all too fleeting. Years moved by so quickly, and some days it felt like she blinked and that whole chapter of their lives had flown by.

“It feels like only yesterday the whole house was filled with Hope, Liam and Leia running about, and with Henry coming home any chance he got. Remember the morning we found the little ones all in the mud out back?”

“Which time?” Emma asked, laughing even as she shook in horror.

The sight of them that day was so damn funny – covered and filthy and dripping in liquid dirt. But it had also been a logistical nightmare. They tracked the stuff everywhere, ruining the couch and a carpet, and the magic each kid was capable had created some kind of spell where all the stains were permanent. It was maddening but also so freaking funny, and of course, Killian had been a superhero, wrangling all three of them back outside to get cleaned off on the back porch. In less than a day he’d had the couch and carpet replaced, consulting Regina about the rest of the mess, all while Emma was on a shift at the station, and her cheeks flushed at the memory of the night they shared together when he got home. There were thousands of nights like that in the long arc of their marriage, but that one stuck out. She was especially grateful for everything he did for her and their family, and they’d made some truly lasting memories as a result.

“Or the Halloween they started the prank war with your siblings?”

“Oh my God,” Emma groaned remembering. Her kids at that point were so beyond toilet papering and throwing eggs. They had the benefit of understanding their true love magic to a certain degree and they’d made use of it. She and Regina had spent days unmaking the mess, and the town was still a little whacked out energy wise until after Christmas.

“How about the day Leia decided she wanted to be a vet?” Killian said, laughing straight out this time.

“She brought home six cats, four bunnies, and three dogs. I still never figured out where she found them all.”

Okay that wasn’t exactly true. Leia made a ‘wish’ that she could give all the homeless pets a home, and her magic had crafted its own attempt at a spell. As a result, all of the strays in a ten-mile radius arrived at their house, all of them charmed by her daughter, and cute even if they were most of them worse for wear.

“To be fair she was only trying to help them all. And she had a plan, didn’t she? A special room or space for every last one of them.”

“She was fourteen at that point. She knew there was no way we could keep them all, even if Hope was away at school and Liam was on his way to college soon too.”

“Perhaps, but we kept more than a few.”

Emma nodded, thinking of their two dogs and two cats. The other animals had all found homes either with her parents, Henry, or Belle. Even at the time she’d found it endearing, and look at where they were now. Leia was away at her last year of college, and she’d been accepted early to the university’s veterinary program. Even if that one day was madness, Emma knew it was the beginning of a real vocation, which she wanted each of her children to feel.

“You know what I think will help?” she asked, circling back around to how much they missed their family.

“Rum?” Killian asked, though he was kidding. He’d cut back considerably as time went on, but he loved pretending rum was still the answer to all things. Always with the jokes, this man.

“Maybe a little. I was thinking you, me, and maybe a bit of sailing?”

“You had me at you and me, love.”

Emma laughed at his attempt to blend a movie quote from long long ago into their conversation. Despite his being here for so many years, Killian still delivered anything having to do with pop culture like he was fresh from the Enchanted Forest. It made for many a funny moment, and this was no exception. The humor of it was only compounded by how quickly he sprung into action. No sooner had she spoken then idea than he was moving about, grabbing things they might need, and packing them a picnic lunch for them to enjoy hours from now when they were out on the water. For a moment she watched him, delighting in how adamant he was to spend time with her and get to go make some brand new memories, but before he could get too carried away, she pulled him into her, clutching at his shirt and smiling at him happily.

“I love you, Killian. A little bit more each and every day.”

“For this day and all days,” he agreed, before kissing her sweetly and resting his forehead against hers. In that moment they just enjoyed this, breathing in the peace and calm they’d fought so hard for. And even when they did break apart, and were back in action once more, Emma carried her love for him always, reveling in how magical it was to truly have a happily ever after.

………………….

I hope we stay the same, hey Honeymoon

Unexpected, this thing that we fell into Lie, so connected You came at a time when my heart was selective Didn't have to choose my love Was accepted, yeah

Now we're running your luck one on one You were sent to me like a one of one And, now we're going I just want no one Nobody else

I hope we never change I hope we stay the same I hope that we can love through the pain After the honeymoon fades I hope we never change I hope we stay the same I hope we can love through the pain After the honeymoon fades

After the honeymoon fades, yeah

I remember when we met we was all in each other's bed And we were spending every second we had And now that it's official it's hitting a little different What the hell we're gonna do with these bads, no yeah

And now we're running your luck one on one You were sent to me like a one of one And, now we're going I just want no one Nobody else

After the honeymoon fades

And I hope it tastes the same Even if it's the best way

Honeymoon fading with you (Fading with you) Honeymoon fading with you (Fading with you) Honeymoon fading with you (Fading with you) Honeymoon fading, fading

Post-Note: So there we have it. Just a happy little dose of future fluff today. I find that writing these kinds of stories always brings me such a warm feeling, and though I know no show can go on forever, I still wish we’d seen more glimpses into how good things would have stayed for CS for years to come. Anyway, my wish for all of you is that this will have brought you some joy today, and that this chapter finds you healthy and well. I appreciate all of you reading and messaging me and leaving comments. It truly means the world, especially because I am mired down in work and stress and worry. I’m hoping to keep posting some chapters in the meantime, but if I get a bit spottier with the frequency, I hope you all will understand. Anyway hope you have a great rest of your weekend and thanks again for joining me on this fluffy little jaunt!

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #cs fic #cs ff #cs #cs fluff #cs family #cs future #captain swan fluff #captain swan future fic #cs happy ending #emma swan #killian jones #cs mixtape #captain swan mixtape #cs kids #honeymoon fades

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itzagothamcitysiren · 4 years

Text

Welcome to the Family

So yesterday was Tim’s birthday and I had planned out a fic for it BUT I’ve been working a lot and just hadn’t had the time to sit down and write it out. I had kinda forgotten about it and when yesterday came around I was annoyed BUT I was given this idea after going out for the day with my niece.

We had drove by a Red Robin after eating somewhere else and I was mad salty, cause yesterday would’ve been the perfect time to go. Then for dinner we ordered take out and I kind you not, our delivery driver was named Timothy. Like what the hell? lol, I was dude I need to write something now.

So today after work I sat down and wrote this. It’ll be three parts, taking place after my mother’s day story. I’ll post up part one and two tonight, and once I finish three I’ll post it tomorrow hopefully :)

Tell ‘Em That It’s My Birthday pt. 1

“What day is it?!”

Halley’s voice seemed to shriek through the room, causing her now startled teammate, Kori Anders, to jerk her head up from her laptop. The girl’s off guard silence caused Halley to go bug eyed, repeating herself but more frantically. “The day! What day is it?”

The alien princess stared up at the wide eyed brunette unsure as to why the younger girl was so frantic suddenly. The coffee mug she held paused as it touched her lips and now was being held still. Cocking an eyebrow up, Kori gave her a soft and hesitant response,

“Monday?”

“Yes, I know its Monday. The date, I mean the date!” Halley shouted back, using one hand to run it through her hair as the other reached for her phone that she had tossed across the couch only seconds ago.

It was only minutes ago that the device was being held in her hands. She had been ordering herself and her team dinner from their favorite Thai place via Door Dash, it being her turn as Kori treated them to an array of Sushi the a few nights ago. She had found herself chuckling at the realization of the name of their Dasher. His name was Timothy and she couldn’t help but think back to yesterday when she and Kori were out on one of their many shopping trips. They had drove past a Red Robin and she had joked about how if they hadn’t already eaten lunch that they should’ve gone there and taken a picture outside the sign and send it to her Tim.

Why hadn’t it clicked then, she cursed to herself once her phone was in her hands. She let out the loudest groan she felt like she ever had when the date haunted her vision. It was July 20th; fucking July fucking 20th, she cursed to herself again, furiously rubbing her face with her hands as the phone dropped back down onto the couch. She was literally the worst sister in the entire universe.

She had been so consumed with her own life that she had completely spaced that Tim’s birthday was yesterday. She’d never done so before. She had never forgotten a birthday or any day of importance; she’d always made sure to leave herself reminders and be on top of stuff like that. Of course there were times where she would let certain things sneak up on her but she usually had a pretty solid excuse for days like those. But now that she was officially graduated from college she had no other big obligations to keep her truly and utterly distracted.

Sure, she was offered a job at the Gazette, but she didn’t have to start until the fall when they had a spot for her open. One of their tenor reporters was moving to Metropolis around then and Halley was more than okay with being able to take the summer off until then. Kori had asked for her help with getting the new Tower back up and running so it was ready for their new team of recruits.

The team of Titans she knew were mostly disbanded, having gone off to do their own things or another, a new team, a team Tim was a part of, taking over their Tower. Now Dick was in Bludhaven, Hank and Dawn giving up the hero life, Victor now joining the Justice League and Wally and Roy off somewhere no one really knew. Kori had reached out to Halley, asking her to help train her new recruits; Halley agreed and had been here for the last two and a half months.

But this was Tim. How could she just up and forget his birthday?

“Fuck, fuck, I need to call Tim,” She let her hands drop and grabbed her phone once more.

Going to her favorites, she clicked on the second name, dialing his number within seconds. She tapped her fingers against her thigh nervously waiting for the other line to be picked up. Her heart dropped when it had only been brought to voicemail. She didn’t wait to leave a message, hanging up and calling again. The phone brought her straight to voicemail.

He was ignoring her, she gulped.

She held the bridge of her nose, pinching it as she listened through his voicemail, waiting for the beep before opening her mouth to speak. When the beep rang she found herself unsure of what to say. She couldn’t just wish him happy birthday a day late through a voicemail. Biting the inside of her cheek she quickly composed herself, saying, “Hee-hey Tim. Uh it’s me, Halley er-. Look, can you call me? Please? Okay, love you, bye-,” Stupid, she hissed to herself as she hung up.

“Well that was almost as hard to listen to as Garfield when he flirts.” Kori chuckled, watching the girl hang up the phone and let her head drop into her hands.

“Shut up.” Halley spat but was muffled by her hands. She took her head out of her hands, leaning back into the couch and looking up at the ceiling.

Maybe he wasn’t actually in Gotham. Maybe he was with his own team of Titans. Yeah, maybe he was. And maybe he was on a mission and that’s why he couldn’t answer the phone. No, she frowned. She knew that he was in Gotham. Steph had sent her a snap a few days ago of the two of them out at Bat Burger. Wait, she though, bringing the phone back up to her ear. She dialed the blonde’s number but was met the same fate as with Tim’s.

“Ugh they hate me!” She cried out, finally meeting Kori’s eye. “I forgot about Tim’s birthday, Kori. He’s hates me now.”

“Tim would never hate you.” Kori rolled her eyes, waving the girl off and turning back to her laptop and work. “He looks up to you. He’ll understand that it just slipped your mind.”

“Yea but it shouldn’t have slipped my mind. And he’s clearly mad since he’s ignoring me!” Halley yelled, standing up. “Let Gar or Jaime have my plate; I need to catch a flight to Gotham.”

“Halley, wait a bit for him to call you back, don’t just jump on a plane.” Kori squinted at her, noting how similar to Dick she had gotten over the years. He had done the exact thing to her once, way back when she hadn’t answered her phone.

“No, you don’t get it, Kor, we always remember and I can’t believe I forgot.” She frowned, grabbing her phone and heading out of the common room as quickly as she could.

She was so mad at herself. She knew that Tim wasn’t one to just ignore people and send them right to voicemail. She knew he was mad and she was worried that if she waited for him to call her back it would take a couple of days. Halley wouldn’t wait that long, already trying to think of an apology as she looked up flights on her phone as she power walked to her room.

As her head was buried in her phone she found herself walking into a hard chest, instantly looking up with narrowed eyes. In front of her stood one of the last members to join the Titans before the newest kids and Halley showed up. The firm chest of the Atlantean sidekick stared her straight in the face as she slowly craned her head up to make eye contact with his purple eyes.

“Hey Garth, sorry” she said offhandedly, side stepping and moving to walk around him. She frowned when she felt his hand reach out and grip her upper arm, making her stop. “Come on, I gotta go. I have to go to Gotham; it’s an emergency.”

The Atlantean frowned his playful smirk now showing concern as he let go of his grip. He began to follow her to her room, walking a few steps behind. “Is everything okay? Do you need me to go with you?”

“I don’t think the Batclan will want an Atlantean in Gotham. No offense,” She smirked at him, looking him up and down. She pressed down the hall further, “But no, it’s not that kind of emergency. I’m an asshole and forgot Tim’s birthday.”

“You are an asshole.” He teased, stopping behind her when they reached her door. He laughed, raising his hands up in surrender and protection when she turned around to smack him. “Hey, I’m not the one who eats their boyfriend’s kind.”

“I said I was sorry about that!” Halley snapped, giving him a playful push before opening her door. She didn’t bother to close it, knowing he’d just follow her in anyway. “I told you I would be more mindful; I ordered Thai food tonight, no fish.” She pointed out, laughing at the incident that happened when Kori bought them all home sushi a few nights ago. The Aqualad was less than thrilled about her choice and even less than thrilled when Halley openly dug into roll after roll in front of him. “Also, you aren’t my boyfriend last time I checked.”

He watched her as she moved to her closet, pulling out a Superman backpack and throwing random articles of clothing into it. His face flashed from frisky to almost jealous, her words throwing him off as he had already assumed they were a thing. They’d met years ago when they were teenagers and Garth would be lying if he said he hadn’t gotten a crush on her back then. But he had only been with the Titans for one mission back then and quickly went back to Atlantis. When he was offered a full time spot on their roster he was excited when he found out Halley would be joining them for a few months.

It took some time but the pair hit it off, Halley at first reluctantly agreeing to go on a date with him but eventually growing to like the Atlantean. She had only just started dating a few months prior and it was all so new to her but it was somewhat comfortable with Garth. She wouldn’t say that she was falling in love, she was far from it. But she did feel something towards him unlike other’s she dated; she wasn’t bored. It wasn’t as awkward as it was with civilians who knew nothing about her nightlife and it was nice to talk to someone outside of the family who had shared life experiences. She also found herself not constantly comparing everything about him to Jason or holding him to the unreasonably high standards she had to match him.

“Well I haven’t gotten around to asking you yet.” He shrugged but kept a firm face, wanting to show that he was seriously thinking about asking her.

“Oh,” Halley said, placing the last thing she needed in her bag. She zipped it up, trying to shove away her sudden nervousness. She hadn’t thought about getting that committed to someone yet. But as she bit her lip, she looked up at him unable to stop herself from speaking. Giving him a sly look, she spoke “Well, when I get back maybe you can get around to it if you want.”

“I’ll have to make a note of it,” Garth smirked at her, crossing his arms against his chest. “For now let me at least bring you to the airport,” He offered, his eyes followed her as she walked around him and grabbed her phone charger of the plug in the wall and a book from her nightstand.

“Do mermaids know how to drive?” She teased him before heading out the door.

“Wow, you really are an asshole.” He teased right back as he followed her back into the hallway, leading the way down to the garage.

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belovedrival · 3 years

Text

Sorry this is all a blargh kind of post but this is how I feel right now:

My grandpa died last Thursday. To support my dad, I went to my parent’s house on Friday and stayed until today. I’m glad I went (my aunt and uncle were there too) but when I got home I felt completely overwhelmed.

Mister’s school had a baby shower for us on Friday, which was very loving and generous, but the nursery, which was very clean and organized, looks like a wreck again. And there’s more things that need washing. More things to do.

I’m tired of people telling me (whether in jest or being serious) that my house will never be clean again - oh, and I’ll never get enough sleep for at least a decade. It’s not helpful. Or funny. Seriously, either shut up or give constructive advice.

Every room - and I mean EVERY room in the house - needs organization/cleaning/something done. It makes me even more tired to think about it. I put away clean clothes a little while ago - that helped to feel like SOMETHING is being done.

There’s been a mix-up, on my end, over who’s parents will be here when after Wiggles is born. I thought my in-laws would be here a bit early, but nope - now it sounds like they’re waiting on my parents. Which is okay on the one hand, because my parents are a couple hours away, but on the other it’s not okay because my brother and sister-in-law are also expecting a baby very soon, and my mom told me this morning that she has plane tickets to go to their house on March 21st. So now I’m like...okay, I thought THAT part of organizing help for the first couple weeks was done, but it’s not. Add that to the list.

Grandpa’s funeral is next Saturday in Missouri, where there’s basically no Coronavirus restrictions unless the family calls for it, and my dad’s side of the family is not on the whole, people who call for it. And of course every second cousin within driving distance has been invited to come - to the funeral, the meal afterwards, and the grave side military ceremony. Mister’s been asked to be a pallbearer and this is my last living grandparent, so my inclination is to go because I know I would regret not going to my Grandpa’s funeral in a month, in a year, in ten years. People might feel differently but this is an event where it only happens once. There’s no way to do it later. I have zero input over the plans because they were all made by Friday afternoon and I didn’t find out about them until Friday evening. I’m not scared of getting Coronavirus but what I *am* scared of is Mister getting it, or testing positive, I go into labor, and then I’m forced to give birth without the one person allowed to be with me. We could mask, but I have to be realistic: there won’t be social distancing and we can’t keep our masks on while eating (obviously).

And I hate even thinking of all this, because I feel like I should be remembering Grandpa, and instead I’m feeling resentful that two of the last weekends before my due date have been completely devoid of doing anything substantial at home, and the list of things to do keeps getting longer, and people keep saying very sweet things like how good I look, while inside I feel like an ungrateful bitch because I’d prefer a cleaning crew or house elves to organize my house over their compliments, so I don’t keel over from stress.

One of my coworkers is off later this week. I can’t take time off to do stuff at home. I feel like this is my last realistic week to get anything done work-wise.

Did I mention I’m pretty sure I felt real contractions - not Braxton Hicks - over the last couple days?Nothing consistent but...let’s add to my stress, la la la la la...

Tomorrow is my pre-registration at the hospital, and I’ve got another appointment with my doctor, and another NST. I’ve got two NSTs a week scheduled for the duration, on Mondays and Thursdays. This coming Friday I have another ultrasound. Fingers crossed Wiggles is still head down.

And now Mister is on the phone because another student tested positive. At least this time he’s not as worried because 1) this student, unlike the last positive case, wasn’t crawling all over him (literally) yesterday and 2) he and the entire staff got their first shots yesterday. For what it’s worth.

Argh. I hate feeling tugged in two. But Wiggles, and us, come first. I’ll talk to the doctor tomorrow and explain the situation, and ask if/what’s the wise thing to do.

I want, desperately, to be there when Grandpa is laid to rest. Fuck Coronavirus, fuck how much everyone’s been divided over the response to it this past year. I’ve never been an absolutist about it - I do not think it’s reasonable to expect those with little to no risk to quarantine for months on end; nowhere in history were healthy people expected to behave as though they were sick. Neither do I think it’s right to just go on with things as though it’s 2019; I wish it was, but it’s not. If we pull the trigger and say we’re not going I can just hear what my sister will say. My brother and sister-in-law aren’t coming; they say they want to avoid a situation like they had with my nephew G, when they barely made it to the hospital before he was born. Driving eight hours one way isn’t something to put my SIL’s mind at ease. I get that. And, of course, there’s Coronavirus. My sister is half convinced that R simply doesn’t want to travel to Missouri (though my brother’s family plans on going to the beach later this summer, pandemic or no pandemic) - and she (my sister) might be right.

Thank God that my mother said before I left them today (with my father standing right there, nodding) that whatever we chose, they would support us. This still sucks.

Things will get done, somehow. Wiggles might decide to make his/her appearance this week and the whole conundrum is solved for us (though I’m going to hit 37 weeks this week and I’d rather cook for another week).

Oh, I can’t even getting too much into the guilt I feel over not writing/updating my fics. It makes me depressed thinking that I won’t get any time for that for the foreseeable future. I understand having a child trumps personal things, but I can’t help but mourn a little for my former life. I am not my mother - someone who poured her life into being “mom” and seemingly had very little/no other personal interests until we were out of the house. I am so grateful for the opportunity to be a mother; but there’s more than that one side of me. Does that make sense?

(My mom is a wonderful mom, by the way. She also is an excellent amateur photographer who I think could sell her pictures if she wanted to.)

Gotta end this rant/blargh somehow. I hope you all have a more peaceful evening.

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fics-not-tragedies · 4 years

Text

In a Week: Chapter 2 🌲

I know that there aren’t many people interested in this fic, but honestly this will be going on for some time, because it’s my favorite idea! Also I forgot to post it yesterday, oops...

Words:��3060; Warnings: none, unless you want another warning for alcohol drinking, then you have it; Summary: Flo meets Andrew who decides to keep her occupied with his presence through the whole week.

Hozier tag list:

@letoursilencebreaktonight; @angelpeachamber; @sgt-morgan; @julessbrown;

Sunday, 11:05pm

After ordering two Malibus, desperately trying not to down them before he even had the chance to ask her about her name, Andrew pulled the chair back and sat down, sliding the glass across the table to her, his hand longing on it, hoping she’d brush her fingers against his skin.

There was something about this girl, the way her impossibly green eyes lit up whenever she looked in his direction that made him want to give her anything she could possibly want. She wrapped her fingertips around the bottom part of the glass, purposely avoiding his hand and pulled it closer to her.

He cleared his throat, suddenly becoming aware of the silence that had been building between them since he sat, but before he could form something clever or witty, he simply spat out the most obvious question that had been circulating since he first caught her gaze.

“What’s your name?” He asked slowly, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a sip.

“Flo” she replied quickly. Andrew nodded, toying with the word in his mind before deciding that it absolutely suited her. He had a thing for noting when people didn’t suit their names but Flo unquestionably did. It was strong, bold and gorgeous and he practiced saying it out loud, enjoying the way it rolled off his tongue.

“Technically it’s Florence” she smiled watching his narrow lips, her cheeks blushing slightly, but she held her chin high, determined to keep her confidence she was still trying to work on, “but I prefer to be called Flo.”

“It’s still a great name” he announced, sinking further into his seat and fixing his eyes on her. There was an ease, an instant softness to the way they spoke to each other despite the overly long pauses.

“Thank you” she said with a shy smile, tucking strands of straw blonde hair behind her ears.

Andrew was mesmerized by the movement of her small hands, the slim gold jewelry that decorated her fingers, her black painted nails.

“Do you have a name?” She asked, feeling utterly ridiculous at the way she phrased it.

Stop trying to be cool.

Andrew squinted at her a little, as if he was trying to work something out, but replied after a second.

“Andrew. Andrew, Andy. You can call me any name that you think suits me.”

“I like them all. Can’t I pick them all?”

“If you want to” he chuckled and they both took their drinks into their hands, silently sipping for a moment or two. The record changed and he looked in the record player’s direction as she tried to figure out what tune is being played now. When she turned back to face him he was grinning from ear to ear, his long hair messy as he ran his hand through it again, wide grin on his face. She smiled back helplessly, “What do you do, honey?” he asked, his lips pressed into the edge of the glass.

“What do I do?”

“Yeah, em… for work and everything that includes” he continued, placing his drink onto the table, pressing his hands together, as he explained himself.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, her face bright, “I’m the head of IT department in a big company. Big office. Big desk. Got one of those spiny chairs too” Andrew was amused by the way she wiggled her finger to explain the movement of her chair. Flo usually held back from talking about her job, men were usually intimidated by her success, but Andrew was different, seemed to understand her even though they just met, “What do you do?”

“What do I do?” He replied quickly, pausing from taking another sip.

So she didn’t know. What a relief.

“Yeah?” He tilted his head and bit the inside of his lip, thinking, glancing away for a moment. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to explain this. Everywhere he went, people just knew him. But not this girl, this girl was different. Just being himself wouldn’t cut it this time. She was a challenge. And that was exciting.

“I’m a musician and I’m in a band.”

“You are?” She answered quickly, her eyes squinting with excitement at his confession, the vague familiarity of his face striking her again, “That’s so cool! I’d love to hear some of your tunes” he watched as she lean forward enthusiastically, her hair falling over shoulders, soft like honey.

Andrew was obsessed, bewitched, mesmerized by her every move. Not only was she dazzling in every way, she was oblivious to who he was, completely unfazed by it all and it was magical. A complete fantasy. A clean slate.

“Em… perhaps. I don’t usually play my music…”

“Oh why not!” She pouted, “Not even for me?” even the way her lips formed words delighted him. He swallowed sharply, trying to focus on what she was saying. What was she saying? He was lost.

“We will see” he replied with a shrug, though he already knew he would do anything she wanted him to.

“What do you play?” She continued adamantly and he laughed, hoping they would move on from the topic, but she seemed genuinely interested in him as he was in her and she was clearly not going to give up without a fight.

“Are we still talking about… em… me?”

“Yes” she replied confidently, batting her long lashes in his direction.

“The guitar, piano… and… em… other stuff. I do the singing as well.”

“Ooh… I always wanted to learn to play the guitar, but never really had the chance to start it” she grinned and nodded to the direction of the music, “Promise me you’ll play me something on the piano! I noticed it in the ballroom as I walked here.”

“Yeah, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Andrew” she warned, winking at him. He exhaled sharply and smiled, all warm and intoxicated.

“Never do” Andrew took another mouthful of his Malibu and tried to keep his eyes from wandering over Flo’s body, “I’m here for the whole week” he stated.

“Good” she replied sharply, the thought of a whole week with this man beginning to excite her beyond any rational explanation, “Me too.”

“Why are you here Flo? Em… are you running away from something, honey?”

“How did you worked out that one?” She replied, a slight panic in her voice. Was she really that easy to read? She pushed a few loose strands of hair from her eyes, not used to feeling so vulnerable.

“Well…” he mumbled, lowering his voice and leaning across the table slightly, “I was only guessing, but em… now I know I was right somehow.”

“Maybe I just needed to get away for the week?” She replied, crossing her arms on her chest, unintentionally drawing more attention to it.

“But why did you needed to get away for the week?” He continued teasingly, pointing his finger and raising one eyebrow before taking another sip from his glass which was nearing empty, “That the em… main question now.”

Flo glanced down at her own glass, realizing that she already had more than she planned to drink tonight, she was nearly three cocktails down. She swirled her finger over the edge of her glass. Then she moved her eyes back to his, the warmness of his eyes making her toes curl and found herself spilling all her secrets without hesitation.

“Well if you must know, uh… I just needed to take a break from everything” there was an obvious crack to her voice that which Andrew couldn’t help but find endearing, even though he embarrassingly wanted to comfort her. He had to slow down on the drink, “I have to rethink my life and perhaps start something new.”

“Oh yes, em… I get that” he sighed, gritting his teeth, “I’m sorry to hear that.” though the perfect stranger opposite her was nothing but a perfect stranger, she knew he was being genuine, that he really was sorry. His eyebrows pulled in and he pulled the softness expression she has ever seen, then like a perfect contradiction he added… “Life sometimes gets too fucked up.”

“Yeah…” she mumbled into her drink, taking another huge sip of it.

The issues and problems mixed together. The loneliness. The way her heart was ripped out of her chest many years ago. Everything that had lead her to this very moment.

Andrew’s voice broke her from her trance, “You’re still on this planet with me, honey?” He waved his hand in her face goofily and she blinked herself back to the room. First the beautiful record sounds, then the stunning vintage decor, then him.

“Yes. Sorry. I’m here.” Flo tipped the remnants of her glass back, savoring the taste of the liquor in her throat and patted her lips dry.

“Look, Lo” he began, scratching his nose and she giggled instinctively at her new nickname, “Em… can I call you Lo?” She nodded in response, “I know you’re feeling absolutely shitty now, but I think em… I think I have em… a plan.”

“Great, because I have no plan.”

“How about we em… spend the whole week together. I can take you for long walks in the woods if the weather gets better and em… I’ll try my best to make you feel better. Even if I had to play the piano for the whole fucking night.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t…”

“Never do” he repeated, cutting her off with a wild grin before she could finish the sentence. He stared her down, his round muddy green eyes unblinking, somehow soft and sexy at the same time, “Well?”

She pursed her lips, weighing the options. Three scenarios were crystal clear in her mind.

Scenario one was an awkward, drunken one night stand which they’d both regret in the morning.

Scenario two was that one of them would make advances on the other and they would argue explosively about it.

And scenario three was that they would spend the weekend simply enjoying each other’s company, until another Monday afternoon comes and they’d never speak again.

She couldn’t decide which sounded best in her head. Unable to determine what she really wanted from her week away from reality, she looked momentarily back to him, tilting her head. She was unable to keep the smile from stretching across her lips when he wiggled his eyebrows in her direction, smoothing his hair back. She shook her head and laughed.

“Fine. I’m in.”

“Another drink?” He asked, waving over a waiter before she even had a chance to reply.

Sunday, 11:25pm

“Surname?”

“Hozier Byrne.”

“Oooh, sexy” she laughed, the alcohol well and truly absorbed into her bloodstream now, “Wait a second… Hozier? Like… you sang that song about church?”

“Sadly I did… em… same question?” He replied, drumming his long fingers on the table, trying to keep his hand occupied.

“Hayes.”

“Flo Hayes…” he mused, rolling the name over in his deep drawl.

“Do you believe in miracles?” She asked, focused on learning as much as she could.

“Em, I think so. Like me being here with you is a miracle, somehow isn’t it?” He chuckled, the creases around his eyes more obvious than before, “Do you?”

“You can’t just ask the same question back every time, Andy” Flo replied, rolling her eyes.

“But you always ask good questions!” he pressed his finger to his temple for a moment, focusing his brain through the fogginess the drinking had brought on, “Do you like em… sleeping?”

“Do I like sleeping?!” Flo scoffed, “Yes. But come on you can do much better than that!”

“Oh Lo, I don’t know… em… you ever broke someone's heart?” Flo could tell he was proud of himself.

“That’s a good one! Probably my first boyfriend. We were 17 and I moved to another country never seeing him again.”

“He probably never got over you em… he probably wrote sad songs about you” Andrew proclaimed as he finished the last of another glass, his voice bold despite the fact he was beginning to slur. Flo was briefly aware of a nervous sensation building in her stomach but ignored it, having the next question prepared as a distraction.

“Okay, you ever wrote a song about your ex?”

“Uhhh…” he took final sip of his drink before placing the empty glass on the table with a loud thud, “Great amount of my songs are the ones about my exes… It’s the yearning for something you once had, but now it’s all lost.”

“The yearning” she repeated after him, before taking a sip from her glass. Before he could say anything else she threw another question at him, “What was your last text?”

He fumbled through his pants pockets to fish out his phone out of them. He tried to unlock it, but the drunken haze wasn’t helping him with dealing with electronic devices.

“Do you need help with it?” Flo asked.

Though he had genuinely been struggling, Andrew took this perfect opportunity to drag his chair closer to hers, so that his whole body was close to her, the table between them had been killing him. Suddenly her knee was against his and he tried not to notice, handing her his phone. She flipped her hair over her shoulder effortlessly and took it from him, her fingers almost brushing his.

Her neck was exposed to him now, pale and smooth and inviting and he inhaled a little too loudly, drunk instantly on her perfume. She was sweet and spicy all at once and he reeled in the uniqueness of it. If she had been a random girl at a random bar, he’d have made all of the moves by now. But there was something untouchable about Flo - he knew he had to work for that opportunity and he was more than happy to.

“Who’s Alex?” She asked seconds later, looking up at him and catching her breath in her throat, not used to him being this close.

“He’s my close friend. He’s in the band with me.”

“Mhm. So your last text was ‘miss you too’” Andrew grinned awkwardly, taking his phone back, only half embarrassed.

“It’s your turn” Flo chuckled.

“Emmm” Andrew licked his lips absent-minded, silently craving a cigarette, even though he knew he shouldn’t be getting into smoking again, determined to drag it out as long as possible so he could stay with her, “Would you rather go to the outer space or… or dive to the bottom of a bog?”

“Easy” she declared, clapping her hands together, “Space. It’s so fascinating and beautiful. All of those stars and colors… And I hate bogs. Too many germs.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have to touch the bog water, you’d in a bog submarine” she giggled a little at his words.

“Bog submarine sounds really interesting, but the stars are much prettier Andrew” she added, “Don’t you think?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, Andrew. What makes you get out of bed in the morning?”

“Lots of alarms. So many of them that my phone once scolded me for having too many… emm… good cup of tea, toasts and my dog.”

“So you’re single?” Flo blurted, her mouth outrunning her brain for once. Apparently she wasn’t even trying to be cool anymore, “Except for the dog of course” she added with a large smile on her face.

“A good boyfriend would be sat here, on my chair, right next to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she laughed, the corners of her full lips twisted upwards. Andrew cleared his throat.

“You’re pretty… em… and I hope you’re aware of it.”

“Oh shhh…” she waved him off, her cheeks unusually hot, before adding a quiet: “thank you.”

“So you agree with me?” He purred, his lips parted as if waiting for something. He couldn’t remember the last time a girl had actually accepted his compliment and it was so refreshing, her self-assured nature making him somehow more eager to please.

“Am I not allowed to agree?”

“Of course you can agree. Don’t think anybody could disagree” Andrew and Flo locked eyes for a moment obviously too long, each of them scared to be the first to turn away. Eventually Andrew broke away, consumed by her intensity, devastated that his glass was empty, instead occupying himself with the search for his lighter.

“Is it my turn?” She asked, finishing the leftovers of her fourth? Or was it the fifth? cocktail to divert her mind from wandering further into the ridiculously gorgeous way he smelt.

“No, em… you already asked your question, honey.”

“I did?”

“Em… yes… em… you asked if I was single.”

“Right” she nodded, nonchalantly pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I need a cigarette” Andrew announced at last, convinced he couldn’t sit here and be tortured by her for a moment longer.

“Need?”

“Quite desperate need” she was unsure whether he was talking about the cigarette or her now, Andrew pulled a cigarette from his packet and balanced it between his lips. The movement was so slick, so rehearsed. Flo wondered how many girls had watched him make exactly the same move. She shuffled in her chair uncomfortably as he stood and did up the button on the front of his red flannel shirt.

“Okay. I’ll…”

“You’re going with me, yes?” He asked plainly, more of a statement than a question, his palm outstretched to pull her up.

Andrew swallowed and she watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, enchanted by the fluffiness of his beard, the softness of his skin.

How could she ever say no to him? She reached out for him and he couldn’t help but stroke down her wrist, taking the tips of her fingers in his, the simple touch enough to make her light-headed. He pulled her up with ease, stroking her palm with his thumb as he reluctantly let go.

Andrew was relieved to have at last touched her, knowing he could now die happy just having done that but he was heartbroken to let go once she was standing. She exhaled sharply, her eyes glowing an unrivaled green under the vintage bulbs, a delicate smile stretched on her face.

“You ever broke someone's heart?” he asked her before. Fuck, if she didn’t break his every time she smiled at him like that.

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cyclone-rachel · 4 years

Text

So, I don’t actually remember when I first heard of Supergirl.

I was aware that that character existed, in as much as I knew of Transformers, maybe, or Harry Potter. Actually, along with Harry Potter and Star Wars, I discovered Supergirl in 2015- although unlike those, which happened in summer, I found her in the fall, the day after her show premiered.

When you go to my blog and search that tag chronologically, the first post that comes up is her costume, which I apparently reblogged on March 8th, 2015. I don’t remember that, nor do I remember the lead-up to the show starting, but I remember being in the Owings Mills branch of the Baltimore County public library system (which was in the same building as the community college I went to) when I watched that first episode, the day after it premiered. I also remember that I was watching Gravity Falls at the same time, and that episode was… weird. To say the least. It was the beginning of that show’s series finale, so of course they were going out on a high note.

Anyway. Again, I’m not sure what my reaction to the first episode was, but I know I liked it enough to create a playlist for it starting on October 28th, and I kept reblogging posts and gifsets about it as I continued watching it from that point. It was something, along with Agent Carter when that show came back for its second and final season, that I could watch with my mom, even though she didn’t pay attention, and that was a good thing for me. I remember asking my parents if we had CBS, and telling them I wanted to watch something on it on Mondays at 8 PM. I didn’t know anything about Supergirl other than her name when the show started, but I wanted to know more.

And as I kept watching, captivated by the relationship of the Danvers sisters as well as pretty much everything else, I became obsessed, to the point that my mom, when talking to my aunt, referred to it as my favorite show- which she was right about. From the second episode, I tried my best to watch it live, which I attempted to do for every episode in the first season aside from episode 12, Bizarro, which I couldn’t watch because the power was out that night. But other than that, I had a great watching experience, and the show was kind of an escape from my college work, with Kara as a character I loved and could look up to.

Also, there was a Brainiac in the show, and I was really into Brainiac, so I readily accepted Indigo/Brainiac 8, especially because her episode had a Legion ring and I loved that a lot. But that was only a 3-episode arc, and I loved the show even after she died.

Season 2 started, I was at college away from home, and was planning to watch the episodes the days after they aired, on the CW website. I didn’t particularly care what network the show was on, it was back, and I was really excited about it. And for the first half, I really enjoyed it- especially because I got to share my enthusiasm with my friend Pesky, who (while not exactly watching the show) was willing to put up with my talking about it and even wrote a fic based on the Red Kryptonite episode of season 1, albeit for Superman instead of Supergirl.

That season was also when I started speculating about Brainiac 5 appearing on the show, due to his connection to Kara, and because of his family and connection to Superman in the LOSH cartoon, I started drawing parallels between him and Clark’s relationship, and Kara and Lena’s relationship. (I later regretted this.) Because of it, Pesky and I began writing a lot about these two relationships, especially in the second half of the season, and it was a great distraction from some of the less-good parts of those episodes. Thanks to Pesky, I got back into writing fanfic, and I couldn’t be more grateful for it, or her. (Also, that season- during a snow day in early February- was when I got into Supergirl Radio, a podcast that I still love to this day, and it changed my life.)

Especially because we ended up creating the Winndox ship, which (unbeknownst to us) would actually become incredibly accurate to what ultimately happened on the show. Season 3 was… certainly a journey, that I enjoyed even more because I got more involved in the fandom in addition to my friendship with Pesky, and especially because of the casting of Jesse Rath as Brainiac-5, one of the greatest decisions in the entire Arrowverse.

Seriously, within a month of the announcement, I had already watched one of his shows, and was planning to watch a few others, and decided just based on that, that he was going to be a great Brainy. Which I was right about, I still love him so much, and his take on Brainy (aside from some stuff in season 4) is so beautiful and complicated, and I cannot say enough things about it. Unfortunately, along with all the great fanfic-writing, and my joining AO3 and having been named New Rachel by Supergirl Radio, the fandom was also very not good, which was why I was happy to join the Sunshine Protection Force Discord in the spring of 2018.

Also again, and I cannot emphasize this enough, Winn and Brainy had some real scenes together, and they were rivals just like Pesky and I had hypothesized. It was the most vindicating thing… until November of that year, when Jesse Rath topped it by posting one of my text post memes about Brainy being bisexual, and the following December, he mentioned that his favorite Brainy ship was Brainy and Winn. Also yesterday, there was that video released of Jesse and Jeremy cuddling. Albeit with Chris also in that bed. But still, I love them, and I’m really happy that it’s something that’s at least canon adjacent.

So season 3 was really interesting to watch, and season 4, if partially because I was spending a lot of time working, and trying to adjust to life after college graduation, was… less so. I mean, it was interesting, but it was also really difficult to watch. However, again, at least I joined a really nice Twitter group chat around February of last year, as well as remaining in the SPF.

And so we come to season 5, where I’m still a part of the Twitter group chat and the SPF as well as another great and positive Supergirl discord, I’ve written 100 fics on AO3 and countless others on my Tumblr, I’ve watched all of the Arrowverse shows (except for Black Lightning, sorry, I will catch up soon), I’ve gotten to cohost on Supergirl Radio for an episode, I’ve met a cohost of the Legends of Tomorrow podcast, I have a shirt and poster directly from the SYFY channel because I tweeted a lot about Krypton… those last two things aren’t relevant. But I still like them and they wouldn’t have been possible if I hadn’t gotten into Supergirl, and although I wasn’t sure how I felt about season 5 at first, especially because of Crisis, these past few episodes show a lot of promise and I definitely don’t mind living in a post-Crisis world. Kara Danvers, Alex Danvers, J’onn J’onzz, Querl Dox, and everyone else, I will always love you all, thank you for showing me light during the dark parts of my life, thank you for giving me hope, thank you for being there and being inspiring.

I’m so excited for this 100th episode, even with all the ups and downs that have led us this far, and hopefully, here’s to 100more. Or however many you end up getting.

Thank you, Supergirl. Even though you’re not perfect, and your fandom is far from it, you really are my favorite show.

#papa don't look #peskyfrenchfries #rachel talks about stuff

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cbk1000 · 5 years

Note

Saturday, Sunday, fortnight, April, may, July, September, minutes, tomorrow, yesterday, today, forever :)

saturday: what gets you excited whilst writing? When I know where I want a plot point to end up, but I don’t know exactly how it’s going to get there, and I sit down to write and suddenly it just clicks beautifully into place.

sunday: how frequently do you take requests or prompts, if at all? Very, very rarely, honestly. I have to really like an idea, because if I feel half-assed about it, I just can’t do anything with it. It amazes me that there are people on here who are basically prompt-filling automatons who can still spit out quality work even though they’ve already written like 50,000 pieces that week and they’re just taking whatever random anonymous request they’ve gotten and running with it. My brain is like, “Listen, you can write 500,000 words on this very specific niche topic and nothing else. Go ahead and try to write a cute little coffee shop AU, bitch. I’ll make you forget the entire fucking English language.”

fortnight: what wip do you plan on posting next, if at all? Well, for a while it’s going to be the Merlin fic I’m working on, because I’m deep into my medieval literature/Arthurian romance phase and I don’t seem to be coming up for air anytime soon.

april: have you ever written and/or posted a crackfic? I kind of feel like my Originals series was just a bunch of smaller crackfics all smushed together into one giant novel. Kol did kill people while dancing to Christina Aguilera, after all. And Klaus had a chariot built for himself and made his minions pull it like fucking horses. It was either me trying to be Literary and Deep or there was a musical number; there was no in between.

may: a fic you have regretted posting? I honestly regret most of the things I post because it makes me horribly self-conscious putting my work out into the world and I become overly fixated on the quality of it (or lack thereof) instead of just enjoying a lifelong hobby--but still here I am, cracking away, because I keep yearning for the Validation.

july: what’s the hottest fic you have written and/or posted if you write smut at all? Ooh; tough question. I think I’m pretty bad at writing sex, so I really don’t know.

september: share a comment or review which still warms your heart? It’s a really long one, so I’ll just share part of it:

‘somehow the detail about the trees in the wind and the sunlight, right as Arthur dies... that knocked me tf out... um it like zooms you out from the very close tableau of just Arthur and merlin together in their own little world, and brings the perspective back out to like remind you that now its just merlin there, and he isn't safe in his little zone with Arthur anymore and theres a whole impartial world around him and it feels so viscerally lonely... how did you do that.... just by mentioning some trees........................’

I was really excited that someone thought I had evoked so much emotion with one small detail. The whole comment honestly made my fucking life and I still go back and reread it when I feel bad about my writing, but that particular section always gets me.

minutes: how long does it normally take you to complete a fic? It really just depends. I can be a pretty fast writer because I type very quickly, but sometimes I have a lot of research to do on something and obviously that slows me down a bit. It also just depends upon how long a fic is. Although I did once write over 300,000 words in like three or four months; I think I was on crack.

tomorrow: favourite ways to write fluff? I like little teeny casual domestic details. Like someone just resting their feet in someone’s lap or even just casually sharing a chair. In one of my fics one character gets some ketchup on his chin and the other is basically like, “Wow, this fucking fool; totally would die for him.” Just little human moments instead of anything grandiose.

yesterday: favourite way to write angst? I hate the Misunderstanding™ and I’m a go big or go home kinda’ girl, so, oh, look, these two characters are in love and it’s beautiful but oh no guess what--it’s 1914, WWI time, bitch.

today: have you made any progress in any wips today? Not today; I write several days out of the week, but Mondays I’m usually dragging ass a bit so I give myself a break on this most unholy of weekdays.

forever: do you balance fic writing with original concept stuff? Not really; I tend to get absorbed in a single project and I’m just not good at juggling more than one story because then I feel like I’m cheating on the other one. Also, I can’t just, like, be casual and write a drabble. I have to write 500,000 words or I die.

#writing

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blondecarfucker · 5 years

Text

Bed of Roses (Chapter 12)

Roger Taylor x Reader

BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Fic Summary: It's 1971. You just moved to London to study, and you find a band on a local pub after a bad date. The encounter doesn’t go the way you expect it, and neither does what follows this evening as you try to deal with loving Roger Taylor.

Fic Note: So I’ve had this story in my head for the last three weeks and finally decided to write it down. It’s completely planned. It will have 21 chapters and it’s divided in three acts: Dusk, Night and Dawn. It’s will be a bit angsty in the future, and it will most likely have some smut as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages. PLEASE REMEMBER THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER OF THE STORY. If this is your first time stumbling upon Bed of Roses, thank you for stopping by! The rest of the story is in my masterlist, the link is in my bio - can't put the link here or else the post will disappear from the tags.

Chapter's notes: So this is a bit of a more introspective chapter - a bit shorter as well. I love writing these too - mostly set up as it was a few chapters earlier. But what is being set up in this chapter? Well, I guess only time will tell... lol I sound like an asshole. Sorry guys. Hope you enjoy this as well, and sorry again for not posting yesterday

Words: 1866

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ACT TWO - NIGHT

“Everything is more intense at night.”

Chapter 12

You murmured the lyrics to White Queen (As It Began) as you kept on reading On The Road. The constant view of fields bored you in the first few minutes of your ride back to London on the bus, since you told Roger to keep his car around - and visit you when he got the chance - and now you were missing class on this Monday morning, hoping to make it in time for your work in the afternoon.

You were annoyed at yourself again - how you, once again, was unable to balance your relationship with Roger and your professional life. Your parents asked you about this sometimes, when you told them you would be out for a week to accompany him on tour, and you pretended to have everything under control. They sent you to England to study, and you did so - but you also loved Roger, and loving Roger was an activity that took a lot of your time and energy.

Those two sides of your life were usually in friction, conflicting, and sometimes you were scared you'd have to choose. But when you were wrapped around Roger's arms, it was easier not to think about it. Now, that you were alone, missing class and about to go to work without makeup, with dirty hair and casual clothing just so you wouldn't have to lie and call in sick - something you had to do many, many times before - it was harder to avoid these thoughts.

Also, you quickly found out that your work at the Sir John Soane’s Museum was uninspiring, unlike it would be if you actually got to work to the British Museum. You were not an Architecture major, but you were hired because your professor was close to the manager, and said you were one of his best students. And you could provide background to the neoclassical art, so it was fine. But it was far from what really got you studying Ancient History, and you were still working there just so you could network your way to the British Museum.

You knew that you could probably use Roger for this, and he would definitely try to help, using Queen's influence. But just the thought of this made you want to disappear; you were already known in your university and work as The Drummer From Queen's Girlfriend, and not that it was something that you were embarrassed of - you loved Roger and you were close with the rest of the band - but you wanted to be known as your own person. You even knew that most people thought that you were recommended by your professor for your job because he liked Queen and you arranged for them to meet, which was obviously not true, but if you acknowledged the rumours enough to deny them, they would only get stronger.

And Roger did everything he could to get you out of the spotlight, knowing how much you hated it. Unlike Mary, you weren't mentioned in interviews, Roger only saying that he's taken when asked directly, and only saying your name in interviews when he did them drunk. But people always found out you dated him, somehow. And treated you differently as soon as they found out, always being nicer to you, in the hopes they can get something from the band, until they realize you were not gonna do that, and then being cold to you, saying that you were a snob.

You always considered yourself a loner, but dating Roger really took that away from you as a choice; it was now something you had to be. You never knew when someone really wanted to befriend you for your personality or for Roger, so you were not able to trust anyone that came close to you. That distance that you had to keep from others made you even closer to Roger and the band, and that was a bit scary to you - they were all quite different from you. You sometimes craved not having to worry about all this.

But the moments you were with the band and especially with Roger made you hopeful; hopeful that your professional life wouldn't mess up your love life, hopeful you would get the job you've always dreamed of. Both things were deeply associated in your head, your two ultimate goals.

And it was easier to be around them and not think about pessimistic stuff; yesterday night, after you and Roger got back from the woods and went swimming naked on the pond - immediately regretting it when you had to walk back in the cold wind completely soaked - you both showered and went back to the studio, where Roger and Freddie tried to emulate the sounds of an orchestra with their voices for a song called Seaside Rendezvous. You were all outside of the recording booth, laughing as Roger did his best to sound like a kazoo. Usually, you loved to watch Rog as he did a high note or one of his famous falsettos; his control over his voice was always impressive. But now, he sounded like a cat screeching. "It's a work in progress, dear. You know how it is", Freddie told you while you laughed non-stop with Brian on the couch.

You got back to reading the book for a while, and as you read "I think of Neal Cassady, I think of Neal Cassady", you realized you just finished reading Roger's favourite book. You were both always trying out things the other one liked, like it would help you get a better insight to each other. A writer you liked once said that there are questions that haunt every relationship, sooner or later: What are you thinking? How are you feeling? Who are you? What have we done to each other? What will we do?

You always thought about how dramatic that sounded, but it actually made sense to you after being with Roger for three years now. What's the point of a relationship if not trying to figure each other out and say, with certainty, "I choose you before anyone else in my life"? Belonging. Relationships are always about trying to belong with someone else, you thought.

The bus stopped and you grabbed your duffel bag. You moved to through the station and found your way to the underground, and you looked at your watch as you found a place to sit on the tub. It was a thirty minute ride to your work from where you were, and you were supposed to be in a meeting with an international researcher alongside your boss in ten minutes. "Fucking hell", you said to yourself, and an old lady looked at you, pursing her lips.

You looked like a teenager, in a button up skirt, a loose Fleetwood Mac shirt tucked in and yellow Chuck Taylors. You definitely didn't look like a respectful historian about to have a serious meeting.

You got to the museum, accidentally hitting one of the interns with your duffel bag as you went to the locker to store it and brush your hair. You said sorry, but you could still hear her talk to someone else outside the bathroom. "She's already twenty minutes late. I don't know how she keeps the job", the other intern says. "Well, she's a groupie. This is just her part time job. I doubt she's ever late to suck Roger Taylor's dick if he tells her to do so", the one you hit with your bag says. "I know I wouldn't. It must be nice to know you don't have to work, just look cute and have your legs spread open every night and boom, your life is easy. That's why she doesn't care if she's twenty minutes late. She has her boyfriend to pay for anything she wants", the first one answered.

You wanted to punch them in the face until your knuckles were bruised just to relieve the stress. At that moment, they represented everything you hated about your life; your stupid architecture museum job and the people that will never take you seriously because you're Roger Taylor's girlfriend.

But you had a meeting to attend, so you breathed in, looked at your visibly tired face - you wish you had some makeup on - and tied your hair up, so it would look less messy. You went outside, saying excuse me to the girls, and walked to the room the meeting was being held in.

When you opened the door, you saw your boss, a look of annoyance in his face, but you were soon distracted by the man across his office desk. He had really short hair, even shorter on the sides - that was a bit of a shock to you, used to seeing guys with long hair - and icy blue eyes. He was wearing a plain maroon sweater, his shoulders filling it perfectly, and fitting dark jeans. He also looked older than you - he was probably in his thirties. His smell filled the room and hit you - he smelled like cologne. Drakkar. It was a perfume you haven't smelled ever since you moved from New York.

"This is my Greek history specialist, Y/N. She's usually on time", your boss said, and you shot him a shy smile. "Sorry, I had a bit of a problem with my commute today", you explained, and you felt the two men analyzing you; your boss was not approving your look for the meeting, and the man was just mysterious. "Y/N, this is the researcher I told you. He works at The Metropolitan Museum of Art. His name is William Antigonos Argyros", he said, and that caught your attention. Antigonos and Argyros are greek names.

"Or, you know, you could just call me Will. But it's up to you", he said, and you had to hold a laugh. But something else caught your attention. He had an accent you knew very well, even though you only heard it from your own lips, nowadays. He had a Manhattan accent. "Sorry for asking, but are you from New York?", you said, and he shook his head in agreement. "Born and raised. But my parents are greek immigrants, so that's the reason for the weird names. William was chosen so I could fit in more nicely", he said with a smirk. You laughed a bit.

"You sound like you're from New York, as well. Odd to meet another fellow new yorker in London while talking about neoclassical architecture. But I guess Ancient History was never Manhattan's strongest suit", he said, and you agreed. "Where did you study?", you asked, and he answered. "I actually studied in Greece. It was easier, knowing the language and such", he shrugged his shoulders. You were admired.

"Mr Argyros is here for his research on Ancient Greece's influence in architecture. It's for a new exposition at The Metropolitan" your boss said, and you and Will corrected him at the same time. "The Met", you said, and looked at him when you realized the coincidence. This could be interesting, you thought to yourself. You really needed a friend - just a friend, you reminded yourself. Just one friend that was actually like you.

---

Chapter 13

Masterlist

Taglist:

@taylorroger-s @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @its-nessi @anamcg317 @frenchieswiftie @queen-danielle-dani-dan @minihemo @shutup-sorry @theyrealllegends @killerqueenisthebest @ashagracelove @hardy-s @fuckinghurricanesoul @secretsweetscollectionblog @mrswinterhater @11mb0 @tamtam-go92 @derptatosaur @patrick-the-stumping @phantom-fangirl-stuff @the-hysterical-queen @rogerofmylife

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aparticularbandit · 5 years

Text

also also - i plan to try and keep having content to post for mondays, but i don't think i'll necessarily keep to a strict schedule on what will be updated. after ACAL, i kind of want a schedule break. ><

i do have enough backlog to cover the three non-roisa fic week mondays in august (well, almost, I started the third chapter of the university fic and if i want i have other stuff i've started i can do instead, so i'm not really worried at this point) so that gives me freedom to do writing on a multitude of things for pretty much the next month, which is basically the month-long break i'd intended to be last month so. even if there's only monday updates, y'all should be covered.

as far as project updates, here's what we're looking at in terms of bigger projects:

continuing chapter updates on iylhybhn - because it's...i've got it brainstormed a while further

potential continuing chapter updates on j:trs - it's my cathartic fic response to s5 so - might not be as potentially regular as iylhybhn but. short little chapters here and there? maybe probably

start posting the university au - emilia antonia - because that's what i have backlogged right now and i reread what i had last month and i want more of it which means maybe i should write more of it

episodic chapter updates of heart in motion - it's episodic so it depends on when i have good episode ideas

potential chapter updates to aftershocks - I have flashback ideas to address how it's technically still post-s5 but rose isn't dead

potential more updates to shenanigans: ACAL edition because alternate ending and blooper reel and follow-up on allison's character arc and more santa!emilio because why not - but this might be a bit because as much as ideas for this i have other projects i want to focus on first

new project: tentatively titled sin rostro - 1920's mafia/mob boss au. petra plays a major part in this and i'm. excited

new project: tentatively titled falling - yes, that's a different title from even yesterday i'm playing around with how those feel - and this is post-s5 luisa dealing with the emotional and mental ramifications of accidentally killing rose with her no-longer-a-practicing-therapist alana bloom and basically living on the verger-bloom farm because yo horse therapy is a thing

new project: tentatively titled luisa and the child - simply put, this is a sequel to luisa and the fox. it might jump the gun a little bit. oh well

as far as other projects being brainstormed or in the process of being written but which i'm holding back on:

everything's coming up roses - the 90's rom-com au - there's a lot of similarities in luisa's characterization between this and ACAL, so i want to hold off a bit

when the lightning strikes the sea - roisa hp au featuring miss lint - i want to get back into writing book one, but i still plan to hold off on posting until the whole book is done with a rough draft, a second write, and hopefully a couple of betas - one for roisa content and one for hp content. then it's just a quick run-through and post. so! still in-progress! but might be a bit

dreamers often lie - roisa soulmate au - i should start writing this because it feels like it's at that point of brainstorming block until some writing is done

jtv s3b+ rewrite - tentatively titled fire in my blood - backburner brainstorming

another soulmate au one-shot that works well with the s5 ending that keeps knocking around and desperately wants to be written and hopefully remains a one-shot and doesn't expand

potential continuation one-shot of the roisa soulmate timer au one-shot - this one would be focused on jane

epic jtv/superhero/timeless crossover - I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ON THIS BUT WANT TO BETTER CLARIFY AND ADDRESS THE SG STUFF - but dottie/lint and roisa and emma/whitney and a heaping helping of mama!rhea with lena and dottie - because using ben's rhea because love her - like. i have some of the plotlines etc. hammered out but want to figure out how kara is involved and which sg season i'm using etc. so. massive crossover yay

i also have a concluding one-shot to the day her line went flat series of one-shots that should probably be fine after a read-through rewrite edit or something like that.

...and i also have another hallmark holiday special started that is more of a subversion and luisa's the one going to the small town and also clara's dad? might? be? involved? there's no mia but there is a dog, if i remember correctly. but that one might be a while i'm really tired when it comes to hallmark and Christmas fluff. >.>

...and then the dottie is sin rostro fic. except dottie and rose both exist because it plays with the idea that the faceless refers more to a group of people than one individual - that it is split between rose, elena, and derek. except i may change that. dottie is definitely dottie is the point here.

...and then the timeless/noir fusion fic which is way back on the burner because reasons.

#musings #bandit does an update #bandit updates #and this is not including any potential essays i might post here #dear rp friends if you wonder why i take so long to reply to things now #it's because i started prioritizing the daily word count over rp #which is what i used to try and do during nanowrimo #but when i prioritize rp then it drastically lowers my word count #>.>#anyway #there's probably more than this these are just the ones i remember

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court-of-abs · 6 years

Text

“Maybe Tomorrow” (Elorcan Fanfic) [Chapter 8]

It’s here! Just respond to this post or message me if you want to be added to the tag list. If you’ve just found this fic (hello there new friend!) you can find the chapter list here. Enjoy Ducklings :)

Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

Tag List:

@high-lady-of-perranth @addled @bibliophileinnightcourt@bluephoenix222 @colbelike@hourriyanajlabyzoannusa @highladyofthedark@empire-of-readers@kaliejane26@irrelevant5@feysand-rowalin@wealessy@mywritingbox @femininewitch @the-heir-of-terrasen @themusic-bookconnection@1800-fight-me @highladyoferilea

He hated it. He hated all of it. But he couldn’t avoid it forever. They weren’t horrible, no, not by any practical means. Even Lorcan could admit that. But the, the plastic smiles, faces, movements, words, everything was what made it the worse. They tried so hard to make everything perfect, to make everything like a “normal family” should be. But they weren’t a normal family, not even close. The other boys might like the distraction, might depend on it to live through each day depending on what each one had been through- Lorcan never made it his business to know. He was resisting because he saw it for what it was. So they pushed harder and harder and harder to the point where Lorcan did everything he could to stay away. The library, Football, school, college writing classes in the city.

Maeve.

Elide.

His distractions, a way to stay away.

They weren’t horrible, no, not by any practical means. But the plastic smiles, faces, movements, words, everything was what made it all so much worse.

He hated it.

He hated all of it.

“Aelin you’re insane!”

That phrase, Elide had slowly come to realize, was quite commonly said among them. And by the way Aelin was explaining what her plans were for Monday at school, Elide couldn’t help but start to agree to it.

“Manon, of course I am” Aelin said over the video chat whilst rolling her eyes. Manon had kept her mouth shut, lips pursed, and attention fixed on her silver colored nails for the majority of the video chat. Until now, that was, until Aelin had finished voicing her “campaign” plan for them over video chat. Lysandra had first testified that they would never be ready in time. Elide had agreed.

But, of course, Aelin said she’d been planning it since the minute she stood atop that lunch table on the first day of school and announced that she was running against Maeve.

“Aelin,” Rowan’s cool voice broke the digital tension between the two over the video chat. Aelin turned her attention towards him. “We’re not even sure the principal is going to agree to this.”

Aelin rolled her eyes again and settled her face into a smirk. “I’ve already had my mom talk to him about it and he says it’s fine.” Lysandra put her face in her hands - Elide was tempted to do the same. Aelin crossed her arms over her chest. “You all should trust me more. I know what I’m doing.”

Elide, like Manon, had barely said a word throughout the whole “planning” session of that evening. And It baffled Elide, it really did. Aelin was always one step ahead. She never gave them any more details about her plans than what was absolutely necessary. All she did was ask for their trust, to believe in her. But she never said that she trusted and believed in them in return.

Anneith shifted beside her, leaning her head over Elide’s crossed legs. Elide was back at the house since what felt like weeks, and the place still felt foreign. She never liked Morath much either, but she at least had a space that was customized and personalized by her.

Lysandra let out a long sigh. “Gosh, Aelin, they’ll be so much stuff to set up before hand and-”

“Elide and I can set most of it up during first period” Aelin interrupted. “You and Manon just worry about lunch.” Lysandra only looked at Aelin and buried her face back into her palms. Manon turned her attention back to her nails. Her usual scowl held more annoyance than usual.

“I can probably get out of first period and meet you there” Rowan’s interjected.

Aelin shook her head. “No, you know what I need you to do.” Rowan looked at her for moment before giving a quick nod.

Yesterday they’d gone over strategies, ways to reach out to the students, possible platforms for their campaign, planning future planning sessions, where events could take place, everything that was of Elide’s specialty. Before she’d opened her laptop for this planning session she’d been excited, revived, ready to help her team with this campaign. And now? Now, Elide was nervous. She wasn’t sure how she could help contribute to this campaign if this was Aelin’s normal behavior. By the way Lysandra had muttered Not Again as Aelin had started voicing her plans, Elide got the jist that this was Aelin’s normal behavior.

Elide ran a hand threw her hair. “Is there anything else we should know?” Elide asked, rubbing her hand over Anneith’s fur to calm herself.

Aelin shook her head. “Not that concerns you guys.” Manon hung up the moment after the words left Aelin’s mouth. Lysandra shook her head.

“See you guys tomorrow.” Lysandra flicked her eyes towards Elide and gave her a tight smile. “Welcome to the group, Elide” and with that she left the chat. It was just her, Aelin, and Rowan now.

Aelin turned towards Elide. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, OK?” Elide nodded, the only thing she could think to do at the moment. Aelin ended the chat.

Elide closed her laptop and buried her head into Anneith’s side, relishing the warmth. Anneith let out a soft yawn as she readjusted herself under Elide’s weight.

It was then that Elide heard the garage door start open.

She laid there for a moment, completely frozen in her spot before she realized what that meant. That her uncle was home. That her uncle was home and that Anneith-

Oh no.

Elide shot up from her bed and ran for the stairs, whistling behind her for Anneith to follow.

The last time that he had found Anneith in the house he had sworn… Elide didn’t think about that. She bounded down the stairs, hearing Anneith behind her as she reached the last step and ran for the kitchen.

She heard the lock to the front door jiggle.

Elide grabbed the dog leash on the key hook and whistled for Anneith. The border collie was right behind her, tail wagging at an impossible pace as Elide reached for Anneith’s collar.

The door opened. The collar was on and the leash clicked in as Elide stood up, starting to walk towards the front door again.

Elide could never predict what her uncle would do, who he was, every time he walked into the house. Sometimes he was completely fine. Sometimes he was, quite frankly, intoxicated. Sometimes he was all business, complaining to Elide about the horridness and the blessedness of politics. Sometimes, in his own way, he was, kind, especially in comparison to all of his other moods. That last one was always the worst. Partly because it was the least common, and therefore most unknown of his moods.

And partly because it was usually when he would talk to Elide about her parents.

As uncle Vernon walked through the door, met Elide’s gaze, Elide knew he was in that mood. She began to mentally prepare herself before he started speaking.

His eyes shot down towards Anneith. “Elide” he said, his tone leaking light reprimand. “What have I told you about Anneith in the house?” Elide swallowed, and even Anneith, the embodiment of happiness, stopped wagging her tail.

She looked down at her feet. “I’m sorry uncle Vernon but I thought I’d just put her leash on in the house and-”

“Shhhh” his voice stopped hers in an instant. Vernon walked over and pulled Elide in for a hug.

He’d- he’d never hugged Elide before. Not that she could remember. Elide’s eyes went wide and she thought she might die from the shock of it. Vernon pulled away and looked over Elide, both hands resting on her shoulders. Elide made the mistake of looking up to meet his scalding copper gaze.

“I know that you know better, Elide” she didn’t dare move her gaze away from his. “And,” Vernon let out a low whistle, and he leaned in a little bit closer. “I know who else knows that you know better.” Elide held his stare, if only to force herself not to cry. Because if there was one thing she wouldn’t do, one thing she would never do, would be to cry in front of him.“We would hate for you to disappoint them.”

Vernon smiled suddenly, releasing Elide’s shoulders and standing up to his full height. It made her feel smaller than she was. “I’m sorry, Elide, but it’s the only way I can ever make you listen,” He used them every time she didn’t listen. She thought that eventually she’d get over it. That blow after blow would eventually cocoon her in a cold enough Armour. Make her unfeeling. But Vernon never hit her head on. No, he took his time, he measured every step, he hit somewhere new, somewhere untested, with every word that ever leaked out of his mouth. Exactly the person Erawan needed as his right hand man. Probably exactly the reason Erawan was able to influence the public so much.

And no wonder Erawan had hired him if he still managed to rip Elide’s wounds open, dragging a knife through them as if they were frail pieces of paper. And he never apologized for scattering them across the floor.

Her uncle looked down at Anneith again and the dog shied away from his gaze. “Go on your walk now” his gaze snapped back to Elide’s, unspoken words still lingering in his gaze. But he said nothing further and instead angled his head towards the front door, gesturing for Elide to leave.

Elide gripped Anneith’s leash and walked out of the door, head held high. She picked up those pieces of papers and taped them back together the best she could, like she always did.

She wouldn’t hurt tonight.

The evening air and the evening skies always calmed Elide. No matter where she was.

Walking down the sidewalk with Anneith, Elide took in everything she could. The sunset cast a rosy hue over everything. It made the houses, the trees, just everything so much more beautiful.

She’d been locked up at Morath for so long that she’d forgotten what it felt like to simply go outside and breathe. And it felt to get out for a little- to get away. Even if it was all just a distraction, and a good one at that.

And then out of nowhere Anneith yanked on her leash hard enough to pull Elide out of her revelry. So much for a good distraction.

“Anneith!” Elide yelled as the dog pulled her forwards once more. But it wasn’t without reason, because right there walking towards them on the sidewalk was a giant rottweiler.

Panic quickly filled Elide and then she quickly forced it out. This dog could be the sweetest animal in the world and she would have immediately misjudged it. And Anneith had never been so excited to see another dog if he/she wasn’t friendly. Elide silently scolded herself but still approached the dog with caution.

The rottweiler was all tail - or stub, really - wagging and tongue dolling as he approached them, even angling his head down to show submission towards Anneith. Anneith yanked on her leash again, nearly pulling Elide along with her as she jumped towards the newcomer. Elide looked down at his neck.

There was a collar, and a tag. Elide breathed a sigh of relief and reached down to check it. HELLAS it said in bold letters on one side and a phone number engraved on the back of it. Elide reached for her phone and realized that in her frenzy to run downstairs when her uncle had come home, she’d left it in her room. Elide ran a hand through her hair in frustration.

“Where’s your home, Hellas?” Elide said. She reached down to scratch behind his ear. Hellas groaned, closing his eyes and leaning into her touch. Elide giggled. Anneith continued to pull on her leash.

Elide looked around her, scanning her surroundings in search for a frantic pet owner or an opened front door. But she saw nothing. She wasn’t sure what to do but she wasn’t just about to leave Hellas out here alone.

“Let’s keep walking guys” Elide said getting Anneith’s attention by lightly tugging her leash. Elide turned back towards Hellas. “We’ll find your owner soon enough.” The rottweiler’s tongue rolled out of his mouth, and stayed out, in answer. And as they walked in the direction that Hellas had come from, he followed. Elide just hoped they’d find his owner before they worried any further.

She also hoped they’d find Hella’s owner before her uncle noticed how long she’d been gone. Not that he ever noticed too much, really.

But Elide wasn’t taking any chances.

Lorcan kept his head down as he worked on some homework, the murky light of his desk lamp making everything seem so much harder to see. He’d do this, then run through plays, then maybe try some writing, and finish with some college applications. If he kept his head down and he kept himself busy they wouldn’t bother him.

A knock came on the door. Lorcan didn’t move. Another knock. Lorcan only gripped the pencil in his hand, knuckles turning white. He still didn’t move.

The door opened anyway.

“Lorcan” Nox’s small voice rang from the doorway. Lorcan still didn’t move. “She wants us all downstairs for dinner.”

Lorcan rolled his shoulders and turned back to his homework, starting to fill in the answers. “I’m busy” he grunted out. He could almost hear Nox flinch from the doorway. “Just tell her what you always tell her: that I’ll eat with all of you next sunday.”

Nox swallowed so loudly that Lorcan heard it from across the room. “She said everyone. No exceptions.” Lorcan stopped writing and gripped his pencil harder. The wood groaned under his grip.

Lorcan cleared his throat. “I’ll come down next sunday.” Each word was a knife. Lorcan knew it wasn’t Nox’s fault, knew the boy only did what they said because he had no other choice. And, well, if he still remembered what Lorcan had drunkenly and foolishly admitted-

“Lorcan” Nox’s voice was more confident this time. “Lorcan don’t lose this.” Nox sighed from the doorway again. “We’ve only got one more year left and she’s on her last straw with y- with us” he stumbled on the last few words, but Lorcan knew what he was really going to say.

With you. She were on their last straw with him.

Lorcan took a breath in and he held it. He felt his head get clearer, his concentration went straight to his breathing.

In. Out. Slowly.

“I’ll be down in a minute” Lorcan answered. Nox stood in the doorway for a moment more before leaving and closing the door quietly behind him.

He took his head in his hands and breathed again, holding each breath longer than the last. Lorcan rose from the desk and let out one last breath.

In. Out.

He turned towards the door and made his way towards the hallway, all of their voices leaking towards him as he opened the door.

Lorcan heard the pencil snap in his hand more than he felt it.

Nox was standing on the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the banister with his hands drumming a rhythm against his thigh. Lorcan hadn’t noticed before, but he was dressed up- slacks and a collared shirt tucked into them. He’d even run a brush through his hair.

He shouldn’t have been surprised though.

Mrs. Rompellier liked it this way.

Nox turned towards him as Lorcan reached the last steps, eyes skimming Lorcan’s outfit as well.

“Lorcan-”

“This is what she’s getting Nox.”

Nox didn’t say anything else.

Lorcan walked past him and into the dining room.

They weren’t seated yet, which meant Kaltain had decided that tonight would include a “cocktail hour.” Most likely as a celebration for their first week of school. Just what he needed. An extra hour in addition to the two hour or so dinner that he had to sit through on the rare occasion that he actually had to.

Feigning too much homework or exhaustion had been easy enough to begin with. For two years he had been able to get away with a dinner every other month or so.

But the feigned understanding she’d given him died off eventually, and the past year or so had been, well, worse.

Worse because she didn’t even bother to try and sympathize with him anymore.

And worse because it meant more time wasted with them. More time at this dinners. If he really wanted, he knew that if he really wanted, he would have no problem skipping every dinner, threat or no.

But there was no other foster homes within 20 miles, at least not ones that would taken in someone who was nearly 18. And if she kicked him out, he’d be forced to leave here.

Forced to leave Terrasen high, football, college classes.

Forced to leave-

“Lorcan! There you are!” It was a black dress with white polka dots today, dark chocolate hair pulled back into a twist. Red staining her thin lips and contrasting her ghostly pale skin. But it was her voice, that damned voice that stirred his stomach and set a slight scowl on his face.

It was so sickly sweet, too sickly sweet, that he could hardly handle the blinding smile of falsity that she flashed at him.

“Lorcan we’re so glad you’ve decided to join us this evening” Lorcan watched her eyes flick over to Nox for a moment before coming back to him, that smile still sitting pip and pretty on her face. There was lipstick on her teeth.

She eyed Lorcan’s outfit, the ragged gym shorts and stained green hoodie, that smile standing straight through it all. But she ignored it and gestured her arms around her.

“We’ve just missed you terribly!” The other boys quieted their conversations at the raise of Kaltain’s voice. Lorcan didn’t move his gaze off of Kaltain’s face, but he saw in his peripheral that they were wearing similar smiles, similar stares and judgmental gazes as they took him in. Kaltain cleared her throat.

“I just know that you’ll be with us for all future Sunday night dinners, correct?” She tilted her head. How was she still holding that smile on her face? “I know it’s been awhile, Lorcan, but just so you know,” she talked to him like she was talking to a two year old, “our mandatory Sunday dinners are always formal wear events. Do you understand?” A boy behind Kaltain snickered. Lorcan shot him a look- he stopped snickering.

Lorcan was about to let the words slip of his mouth, was about to keep playing her game until the damned sun came up. But then he caught Nox’s eyes across the room, he was still leaning across the banister, hand drumming against his thigh. He’d confessed one thing, one thing, to the boy almost three years and now he just. Damn him. Damn them all.

But Lorcan took a breathe, and met Kaltain’s painted smile once again.

“I understand” Lorcan said, having to bit his tongue from gritting the words out like he wanted to.

Kaltain’s smile didn’t move but she turned her away from him, finally, and addressed the other boys.

“Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes, why don’t you all take your seats while I go check on it?” The boys dispersed from their conversations immediately, making their way to the chairs surrounding the wood carved table. Lorcan didn’t make to move, and a quick glance over to the banister confirmed that Nox hadn’t either.

That look hadn’t left Nox’s eyes, but his face seemed more relax.

Lorcan was restless. And pissed off. Yes, he was pissed off and he needed to go for a run, anything other than sit at a table playing nice for nearly two hours. Lorcan smiled, ever so slightly; he’d take Hellas with him too, it’d been too long since he had been able to take Hellas out to do anything.

After this dreadful dinner, then, Lorcan would go on a run, burn off some steam, run through some plays in his head, and spend some much needed time with his dog.

He walked over to the front door, just to check on Hellas before sitting down for this dinner, his eyes went towards the right side of the front yard through the window parallel to the front door and then-

Lorcan froze when he saw the long leash wasn’t attached to anything. He quickly looked over at Hella’s dog house but saw nothing. The dog was too big to fit into it completely, so he couldn’t have been in there. A quick sweep of his eyes over the front lawn confirmed his suspicions.

Nox came up behind him, coming to the same conclusion that Lorcan had only a few moments after.

“This is the second time this week” Lorcan muttered running his hands over his face quickly before reaching for the door handle.

Nox stuttered. “Lorcan-” “Just stall her, Nox”

Lorcan threw open the front door, hearing the quiet exclamations of the other boys behind him in the dining room.

“Dinner is-” was the last thing he heard as he slammed the door behind him and made his way towards the street, already whistling for Hellas to come home.

It had only been about 20 minutes, or what seemed like it, but Elide wasn’t mad to admit that Hellas had started to grow on her. His tongue hadn’t moved from its spot hanging over the side of his mouth since they’d started walking, and his stub of a tail was in no short supply of wags as they walked on.

And they did walk on. But every house they passed portrayed no evidence of it being Hella’s home. One or two times Elide had stooped down to rub behind Hella’s ears and ask him if he knew his way home. She knew he couldn’t answer, but she asked him anyway. Without a phone to call the number on the back of his name tag, it was all she could do.

At this point, any evidence of dusk had almost faded from the sky. But even as they walked on and the night drew darker, Hellas stayed with them. Elide had a feeling that Anneith was going to be immensely disappointed to see Hellas go. If they ever did find his home.

Suddenly, Hella’s eyes perked up and he swung his head to the left. His whole body stiffened and his tongue retracted; Anneith didn’t react.

And then Hellas bounded down the street, taking a sharp left at the corner they were currently at. Anneith ran after, nearly dragging Elide along as they ran. Hellas just kept on running, past house after house until Elide was almost convinced he wasn’t going in a certain direction; That he’d simply gotten bored and decided that chase might be a fun game for them to play.

By the time her and Anneith had reached the next corner, Elide was completely out of breath. But there was no stopping Anneith, and the border collie barreled on, half dragging Elide with her.

That was when Elide her the whistling. Low and clear, breaking through the sounds of night. That was it, Hellas must have run because he’d heard the whistling. Elide, despite her labored breaths and growing cramp, smiled to herself. They had finally found Hella’s home.

Turning at one last corner, Elide was met with a house that was nothing like the constant stream of suburbia that she had been walking past for the entirety of their “walk.” If one could really call it that.

It was at least four stories, bricks made up the face of it and two stone pillars held a balcony that covered the mahogany double front doors. Lights set in the lawn beamed towards the house and accentuated the french windows on the second and third levels. Hella’s owner was, by all means, well off.

And then Elide noticed two things in the next instant. One, that there was a sign placed in the grass to her right that read “The Doranelle Foster Home for Boys.”

And the second was that Lorcan was standing on the front steps of it.

He noticed her after she had noticed him. And then he noticed the look she gave him, the look that everyone gave him.

Except Maeve. Maeve hadn’t given him that look when she had found out.

Elide’s eyes were darting between the sign for “The Doranelle Foster Home for Boys” and his gaze. He watched her swallow and then walk towards him.

A part of Lorcan was thrashing inside him, the part that wanted to yell at her, to scream at her to go away and mind her own damn business. But he snuffed that part of him out quickly. The more reasonable side to him, the side that gave him his love for writing and books, told him she wasn’t there to mock him, to tease him. And that same part of himself reminded him about Maeve- and the promise he had made to himself just yesterday in the library.

Maeve. Maeve would tell him what luck he had that she was right there. How she was looking at him right now as she made her way towards them, how he would be able to throw the line right now and she’d bite within in an instant.

Get her, Lorcan. Bait her. Not too slow, not too fast. The words from yesterday night at their planning session rang his head. He could hear Maeve’s voice so clearly, see her grin and her cunning mind work as she told him what to do. It was almost as if she were there with him, a strong hand on his shoulder pushing him over to Elide.

But Lorcan didn’t move from the spot where he was standing. Not too fast. He held Hellas by the collar now, scratching behind the rottweiler’s ears to calm him as Elide and her dog came up to him and stopped. A content groan reverberated through him as he plopped down on top of Lorcan’s feet.

Elide crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him. She was flustered, completely, and as much as she tried to steady them, her breaths were labored and fast. She must have run here, chasing Hellas no doubt. The damn dog only let out another groan in answer. Lorcan stopped scratching behind his ears and stood up to his full height. Elide’s chocolate eyes followed.

She let out a small cough. “He was, he was-”

“I know” Lorcan said gruffly, looking down at Hellas. “He gives me a run for my money sometimes too.” A breathless laugh escaped her lips. His brow furrowed.

“We found him, Anneith and I” she gestured to the border collie standing just below her hip, “when we were walking. I don’t have my phone on me so I couldn’t call the number on his tag. I’m so sorry” her face fell, and her gaze drifted down to look at her feet. “You must have been so worried about him.”

It was Lorcan’s turn to laugh. “He does this all the time” and on cue Hellas let out a low bark in response. “Don’t be surprised if you see him running around again. Elide looked up and met his gaze once more. Such guilt lay there. Such-such sorrow. It was too raw.

Lorcan cleared his throat. He reached down to push Hellas off his feet. The old dog grumbled in response and slowly got up.

“I didn’t know that” Elide suddenly stopped her response, chewing on her bottom lip as if she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to continue on with what she was saying. “I didn’t know that you lived… here.” She kept chewing on her bottom lip.

Lorcan held in his snarky response, and instead said “It’s fine.” Elide nodded once. Lorcan walked Hellas over by his collar over to the dog house and reached for the long lead.

“How did he get out of leash?” he heard her ask from behind him. Lorcan didn’t want to look back at those eyes.

Why wouldn’t she just go away?

Get her, Lorcan. Bait her. Maeve’s voice in his head cut through everything. He nearly growled at it.

“The screw is loose on the hook” he responded, attempting to mask his frustration with monotony. “He just has to give it a few good tugs and it unhooks from his collar.” Hellas gave him a look that practically said that he had already known that for the past three months. Lorcan nearly laughed, and he felt some of the frustration ebb away. After he saved up enough for a new backpack he’d get Hellas a long leash. But with having to quit his summer job for college classes… Lorcan pushed it out of his mind.

When he turned away she was still standing there, a few steps away from the porch and closer to Hellas and him. By the way her dog, Anneith, was pulling on her leash towards them, and judging by her size in comparison to the border collie’s, Lorcan guessed that Elide hadn’t moved there on her own accord.

“Do you need anything?” Lorcan said after they had stood there for several moments. Lorcan saw the look of confusion in her eyes and sighed, remembering she was new here. “You don’t know your way home” he said, practically taking the words out of her mouth.

“Yeah I left my phone” Elide pushed her hair behind her ear.

Lorcan ran a hair through his hair. “What street do you live on?” Elide looked up at him then, her hair nearly covering her face.

“Shafire-”

“Just take a left down at the corner and keep going until you reach the park. Turn right at that intersection and Shafire will be a few blocks down.”

He watched, agonizingly, as her face fell. He tried to watch her hide it- but it was helpless. He cursed at himself. She began to turn away.

Get her, Lorcan.

“Thank you” the words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. He said- he said. She turned back towards him suddenly. That look of reprieve and innocence long gone. But something like surprise lit her features instead. A million voices in his head, a million memories tore at him to walk away, to set a scowl, walk back into the hell-hole and never look back.

But that voice, Maeve’s voice, stuck him to the spot-again. Again it rang in his head. It told him to wait, told him to listen. At Least he could have sworn it was Maeve’s voice telling him that, and not his own.

Elide seemed at a loss for words. Her eyes darted down to her arms, which were still crossed firmly across her chest. Her lips parted slightly as she silently contemplated everything.

Everything tore at him, ripped at him, screamed at him. When was the last time, gods, when was the last time-

“Of Course” she said, boldly meeting his gaze once more. “Of course.”

And the way she said it. The way she looked. The way her lips, her hair, her eyes, the hope-

Not too slow.

Not too fast.

Not too-

Maeve’s command slipped from his mind because damn him, damn her for looking at him like that.

Giggles and laughter swam into his mind, drowning out Maeve’s voice until it was only a muffle. That was from the party.

Damn her. Damn her.

He bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood let he say something he damn well knew he’d regret, and then he walked towards the house again. Elide’s eyes flickered away from his and she began to walk the other way. He heard Hellas whine after her-or for her dog, Anneith; Anneith barked in return. He reached the steps and turned to watch her go.

It was completely dark now. And Lorcan watched Elide walk away underneath the stars.

He watched her walk away, watched her walk in the same direction as the constellation for the stag of Terrasen.

He watched her walk away from him and towards a home.

Elide hadn’t known.

She had barely known him- she still barely knew him.

But he was an orphan.

Him, in the more literal sense of the word. But she was… she always saw herself as one too. Alone and without anyone, really, who loved her.

But he had the cadre. She told herself. And she had Aelin, Lysandra, Dorian, and even Manon- Manon was debatable, but regardless.

He wasn’t alone. She wasn’t alone. No, this didn’t change anything.

But it did.

She wouldn’t hurt tonight.

Elide walked under the stars, lost in thought as she made her way towards the house. She decided, then and there, as she reached the house, as she opened the gate and let Anneith off her leash, as she closed the door behind her to the house and tried to ignore Anneith’s whining, as she went up the stairs and only glanced at her uncle passed out drunk on the couch with the TV blaring through the house, as she opened her bedroom door and reached her bed, as she turned off the lights and pulled the covers over her, still trying to ignore Anneith’s whimpering and the TV and everything-

That she wasn’t going to do this to herself. That Lorcan was just- Lorcan was just Lorcan. That she would see him at the library sometimes, that she would see him around school and at most likely, at many more parties.

That that was all that she wanted.

Nothing more.

Yet as Elide closed her eyes, letting sleep and darkness sweep her away for the evening, she watched, felt, as a single lone brick fell from the enclosure around her heart.

And then she watched another.

And another.

She wouldn’t hurt.

But she didn’t do anything, she even let herself smile - if only a little - as she watched some of them fall and crumble like dead leaves fell from trees in autumn.

#maybe tomorrrow #court-of-abs #elorcan #chapter 8 #sarah j. maas #TOG

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atlafan · 4 years

Text

Take it Slow - Part Sixty-Six

Warnings: Fluff. Smut…there’s, um, some more butt stuff…

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

Friday after work you meet Harry at the first of three locations he wanted to look at. He really trusted your eye and vision for things. You didn’t like the first location.

“Not enough foot traffic. You’ll want people to be able to walk in and make appointments.”

He agreed with you. Harry’s main thing was to make sure there were two offices in the back. He needed a private space for himself, and for Mariah if she decided to join him.

“You should also see if you can sell frames and other products to help add to your profit. You could offer special deals for those booklets you make.”

“Good idea. That’ll give Isaac somethin’ to do too if he comes along.”

You liked the second location the best out of the three. It was closer to home, and near a park. There were other businesses and a ton of foot traffic. There were two offices, one in the back, and one upstairs. Harry liked the idea of it being two stories. There was also a large storage closet.

“With some paint and some new furniture, this could be a really great place.”

“Yeah, and the price is right in my budget.” Harry says looking over his paperwork. “Are there many offers on this space yet?”

“Not yet, but it’ll move fast. Take the weekend to think things over and let me know Monday, yeah?”

“Alright, sounds good.”

You and Harry were having Mariah and Isaac over for lunch Saturday, so that would give everyone time to think a lot of things over.

“You have the money in your budget for renovations and stuff like that?” You ask him as you get into the car.

“Yup, I think I’ve thought of just about everything. I’d need to put my two weeks in at work quick though because I’d need to spend my free time fixin’ the place up.”

“Which means you’d need to file for insurance soon…”

“Yeah, and I’d need to get my LLC insured too. This is all happening so fast.” He says excitedly. “When can we start working on the website?”

“How about tomorrow night? Once we know if Mariah’s on board we can add her info to it.”

“Thanks again for helpin’ with all this, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He gives your hand a squeeze.

“I’d do anything for you, Harry.” You smile at him and he nearly starts to cry.

“So…what exactly are we doing here, other than to have lunch?” Mariah asks as you set a plate of sandwiches in front of everyone.

“Well, I’m finally jumpin’ into my own business, and to be up front, I want you both to come with me.”

“Me?” Isaac asks in shock.

“Yes.” Harry hands them his business plan. “It’s all right there. Y/N and I looked at some spaces yesterday and found one we think could suit all of us. My freelance work alone would be enough to sustain us, so imagine the few people you work with on top of that Mariah. And Isaac, there’s no one else I’d trust bookin’ shit f’me. I know I’m asking you to leave something comfortable, and it might seem rocky at first, but I think this could be great.”

“What would you call the business? Or is it just a space we’d use together?” She asks flipping through.

“Well, that’s somethin’ we could talk about. I mean I’d want us to have business cards that match. It could just be our last names or we could come up with somethin’.”

“I think we should just call it Styles Photography.” She suggests.

“But you’d be my partner, so where does your name go?”

“I’d be working for you, and it would go on my business card. Your name should be everywhere, this is your thing.” She smiles.

“Harry, I have to say, I’m really impressed with this. I mean the salary you’re suggesting for me is way more than I make now.” Isaac says.

“It’s what you deserve to be paid, you work really hard. And Y/N suggested we sell other little things to help offset other costs, which I think is brilliant.”

“Yeah, we could sell some of those techie frames where you digitally load the photos. People go nuts for those.” Mariah says. “Fuck it, I’m in.”

“Me too.”

“Are you both serious?! I wouldn’t be able to provide many benefits…that’s the only thing.”

“I’m still on my parent’s insurance for a couple more years.” Isasc says.

“So am I, actually.” Mariah says. “So we’d have time save up for all that.”

“My question is, when would we start?”

“Well, I’d be leaving Plant Geo far before either of you. I need to lease the space and fix it up. I’d say by June we could be up and running. Y/N’s going to help put a legitimate website together for us, and she’s going to do this social media campaign to help get the word out.”

“Harry, do you think you could have some legitimate contracts made up for us?” Isaac asks.

“Definitely. I could have them to you by the end of next week probably. So we’re doin’ this, I can go lease the space?”

“Yeah! Do you have any pictures?” Mariah asks. Harry hands her his phone. “I was thinkin’ of putting a wall up in the back and adding a small kitchen area. There’s an office in the back for you, and I would take the one upstairs. Huge storage closet for all our shit. I was thinkin’ of getting a custom desk made for you too Isaac.”

“Can you do all that yourself?” You ask.

“Yeah, I’m pretty handy. So are Lou and Niall, they could help when I need it.”

“My dad could help too…” You bite your bottom lip. You hadn’t really spoken to your dad in a while.

“We’ll see…” Harry smiles. “Anyways, I’m really excited you guys are on board.”

“Me too, I’ve been getting sick of all the drama there.” Mariah says.

“Chris is gonna flip losing her three best people.” Isaac says.

“You two need to keep quiet that you’re comin’ with me. I’m not even tellin’ her I’m getting my own studio, I’m just telling her I’m going to freelance full time.”

“Good idea.”

The three shake on it, and Harry tells them they’ll get proper contacts soon. After they leave he calls the realtor and tells him he’ll take the space and will have a check for him Monday.

“Once I get the blue prints of the place I can get the permits I need for renovations.” He tells you. “Do you really think your dad would help?”

“Sure, I mean it would be good to have him there in case you stumble into any electrical mishaps. Plus he has a ton of tools. He could borrow my brother’s truck and meet you out there. And he’s free labor. Well, mostly free, you’d need to buy him a beer or two.”

“What’s his number I’ll call him.”

“You wanna call my dad?”

“Why would I have you call him? So he can ask you a ton of questions and make you angry? No way, I’ll talk to him.”

You give Harry your dad’s number and he dials it on his phone. He picks up after a few rings. Harry puts the phone on speaker.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi Mr. Y/L/N, it’s Harry…”

“Oh! Um, hi. Is everything okay with Y/N?” You two smile at each other.

“Yeah, she’s fine, I asked her for your number actually.”

“Oh boy…you’re not calling for the reason I think you are?” Harry’s face goes beat red.

“Uh, no, no, no, not yet anyways.” He laughs nervously. “She actually told me to call you because I’m officially renting my own studio space and I’m going to be doing some renovations to it. Y/N said you could be a great help.”

“Oh! Well, that’s a much better reason to call.” You roll your eyes and Harry swats an arm at you. “What do you need help with?”

“Well, a lot actually.” Harry takes the phone off speaker and walks away so he can explain everything to your dad.

About an hour or so later Harry comes back to you and plops down on the couch. He takes a deep breath and looks at you.

“Your dad is a chatty guy.” He laughs.

“Yeah, no shit. Did he really think you were calling to ask if you could marry me?”

“Yes, and he talked my ear off about how even though he knows we love each other, we just need to slow down a bit and that it’s too soon for all that.”

“I’m sorry.” You can’t help but laugh.

“S’alright. Don’t really need his permission though do I.” It wasn’t a question.

“Nope.” You smile. “So what did he say about helping?”

“Oh, he’s all for it. Said it would give him somethin’ to do. He said your brother could probably help too. He said once I get all the right permits he’d be able to jump in wherever.”

“That’s great!”

“God, I can’t wait to give my two weeks to Chris on Monday. Been there for four years, feels way longer.”

“I’m so proud of you Harry, this is going to be great.”

Monday morning Harry walked into Christin’s office and handed her his two weeks notice.

“What’s this?” She asks looking up at him.

“I’m leavin’ Plant Geo. I’m goin’ to invest more into my own work. No hard feelings, I just can’t do this anymore. The work doesn’t make me happy like it used to.”

“There’s nothing I can do to convince you to stay? You’re the best photographer we’ve got.”

“I’m sorry, Chris. It’s just not what I want anymore. I wanna be my own boss.”

“I understand.”

“I’d like to keep this quiet, I don’t want anyone makin’ a fuss.” She nods and he walks out of her office to go to his own.

Harry made a ton of phone calls all week to get the ball rolling on the permits he’d need to start making renovations to the studio. He also worked on the contracts he’d need to give Mariah and Isaac. He asked Rachel if she’d be able to help paint once it was all ready for that. Harry felt lucky to have so many friends that were willing to support him.

Every night you and Harry sat at the dining room table getting his website together. He loved watching you work. He was beyond grateful for you. You’d make sure everything looked the way he wanted. You both worked really well together.

“As you’re renovating we should post on Instagram to show everyone updates. You’ll need to give me the login to your professional insta.”

“Should we just make a brand new one for the LLC?”

“No, we can just update yours. Then we can post an announcement to Facebook, and let everyone know about the site. I can set it up so they book with you on the site too. Isaac would have the final approval on the reservation of course, that way you wouldn’t get overworked.”

“I’ve told a few people and they said they were really excited. A lot of people have more time during the week to get their pictures taken than I thought. Plus I can still freelance for other magazines if I want.”

“Did Christin tell you that?”

“Yeah, we spoke and she said if I ever needed the work she’d give it to me.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, I appreciated it.”

A couple of weeks later, your dad started helping Harry with the renovations. Your dad was actually impressed that Harry had a lot of the proper things he needed like masks and goggles. Harry made sure to take before and after pictures for you to post updates on social media. One night he came home in a pair of jeans, workboots, and a longsleeve shirt. It was starting to get warmer out, but the longsleeve helped keep dust and other scraps off his skin.

“I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but I’m actually havin’ fun with your dad. He’s helpin’ me get the kitchen together this week.”

“That’s great.” You bite your bottom lip while he runs a hand through his hair.

“What?”

“Nothing…you just look…hot. Where’s your tool belt?”

“Left it in my trunk.” He smirks. He comes over to you and rests his hands on your hips. “Why?”

“Be nice if you brought it home some night.”

“You should come by one of the mornings your dad isn’t there.”

“I’m not fucking you in your studio.”

“C’mon, why not? Now that would be hot.”

“Harry.” You suck your teeth and pull his hands off you. He pulls you back closer to him.

“Okay, okay.” He presses his forehead to yours. “I have a wedding to shoot this weekend.”

“I know.”

“So we won’t have much time together again, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m gonna spend some time with Rachel.”

“Oh good.” He kisses your nose. “I needa shower, I must smell like a goat.”

“A very sexy goat.”

Rachel comes over Saturday while is off taking wedding photos. You’re enjoying catching up with her. She tells you how excited she is to help paint at the studio, and how excited Mariah is to work with Harry.

“I’m really glad she’s my girlfriend, she’s awesome.”

“I’m so happy for you! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy.” You take a sip your tea. “Can I ask you something kind of personal?”

“Always.”

“Well…you know about the things Sarah and I bought for the boys?”

“Oh yeah, she filled me in on all that.”

“Okay cool, so it’s been a while since Harry and I dove back into all that. He’s just been so busy with everything, I’ve sort of felt bad asking you know?”

“Sure.”

“So like…how do straps work?”

“Oh my god, you wanna peg him?”

“You have no idea how badly I wanna get into that ass.” You both laugh.

“Yes, oh my god, okay, well, I’ve never used one in someone’s butt before, but using the strap in general just makes it easier to like hold onto the person. It’s not like using a dildo where you have to keep your hand gripped on it.”

“But how do you know what you’re doing?”

“You just feel around, talk to your partner make sure they like what you’re doing. Does he know you wanna fuck him like that?”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s cool with it?”

“He didn’t seem not cool with it. You should have seen how amazing he looked when I used the plug on him, Jesus, he was beautiful.”

“I never expected you to be into something like this, I love this for you.”

“I didn’t expect it either. I just don’t know how to bring it up. He hasn’t had a free second.”

“Have you had sex otherwise?”

“Oh sure. We always make time for it. We just haven’t had time for the things that take a little longer.”

“Do you think he’ll want to do it to you?”

“He’s not really a give to get kind of person. I don’t want it for myself and he knows that.”

“Oh that’s nice. Yeah, I don’t really like the strap used on me, I don’t need the dick.” You both laugh.

“So sex with Mariah is good then?”

“So good. I’ve never really connected with someone the way I’ve connected with her.”

“That’s great Rach.”

“Please don’t keep me in the dark about if/when you actually peg Harry. I’m gonna need all the details.” You both start laughing just as he’s walking in.

“Oi, what’s so funny.” He smirks at them, loosening his tie.

“Hi!” You say blushing. “Did you just walk in?”

“Mhm. Hi Rach.”

“Hey Harry.” She smiles at him then at you. “Well, I’ll get going, I have some projects I need to grade actually. God, summer cannot come fast enough.”

“I hear that.” You stand up to walk her out. “Thanks for coming over today.”

“Course! It was fun to catch up. Bye!” You turn back to look at Harry.

“She didn’t need to leave.”

“Oh she’s been here for hours it’s fine. You’re home earlier than I thought.”

“It was an early morning wedding, and they didn’t need me for the reception, just family shots, so I got outta there as soon as I could.” He slips hit suit jacket off and walks down the hall to your bedroom. You follow him. “What was so funny when I walked in?”

“Hm? Oh, I can’t even remember. Sometimes we just get into these laughing fits.” You sit on the bed and watch him undress. He hangs up his suit and looks at you. “You know Aunt Flow left yesterday.”

“Did she now?”

“Mhm.”

“Is that your way of tellin’ me you wanna bone?” You giggle and bite your bottom lip.

“Maybe.”

“Well, we gotta make it quick. I need to go to the studio and get some things done.” He stands between your legs and you can’t help but pout. “Whatsa matter, angel?”

“We’ve been making it quick a lot lately.” You say looking up at him. You put your hands on his hips.

“Aw, you want us to take our time baby?”

“Yes.”

“How about a quick shag now, and then tonight when I get back we can take our time, hm? We’ll do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?”

“Sure.” He smiles. “Now take your pants off.” You grin and stand up to take your leggings off.

Harry fingered you until you came and then fucked you into the mattress before he left for the studio. You got caught up on some homework while he was gone and made dinner. He got home around seven, exhausted.

“Please take a day off from it tomorrow.”

“I will, I will. I just wanted to get some things done. Your dad is comin’ back to help Monday so I brought some lumbar over and some other things we’d need.”

You both eat quickly. He goes over to sit on the couch, but you put your hands on your hips and make a grunting noise.

“What?” He looks at you just as he was about to turn the TV on. You point to the bedroom. “Babe, I just need-“

“No, you said when you got home we could do whatever I wanted. Now get that ass up and into our bedroom.”

He couldn’t say no to that, so he stands walks with you into the bedroom. He sees that you’ve pulled out the special box and stops short.

“You…you wanna do this tonight?”

“Neither of us have anywhere to be tomorrow, and we haven’t done it since the first time.” You bite your inner cheek. “If you don’t want to we don’t have to.”

“S’not that I don’t want to…what’s the end goal here?”

“I want to be able to fuck you in the ass.” You say bluntly and he nods. “Are you okay with that?”

“I think I could be.” He sits down on the edge of the bed and you stand between his legs. He looks up at you. “I’ve been reading into it a little.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, can’t say I’m not curious…but there’s gonna have to be things that you’ll have to do. I mean you’re legitimately going to need to finger me to stretch me out and stuff. Are you comfortable with that?”

“Maybe if you shower first.” You giggle.

“Alright, let me go shower.” He stands up and starts taking his clothes off. “I want you naked on this bed ready f’me when I get out. I’m still a little hungry, and I really only want one thing.”

You do as he says and excitedly get on the bed and wait for him while he showers. Harry makes sure he’s all clean and comes out to you. He gets on the bed and hovers over you. He kisses your lips and then makes his way down your chest. He takes your nipple between his teeth before sucking on your breast.

“Ah.” Your head rolls back while he sucks on one and kneads the other.

He makes his way to suck on the other, wanting to give equal attention. He kisses down your chest and belly. He kisses one of your hips and sucks on the skin harshly letting it go with a pop. He spreads your legs apart and dives in. He licks a flat tripe up from your center to your clit. He laps at your folds and sucks where he pleases. His tongue goes up inside you while his thumb works your clit. He was really taking his time, only make small, slow circles. Your chest was rising and falling rapids. When he wraps his mouth around your clit, your hands fly to his hair. His middle and forefinger plunge inside you, going in knuckle deep.

“Shit.” He looks up at you while your eyes are rolled back.

He took a great deal of satisfaction knowing that even though in a few minutes you’d totally be in charge, but no matter what he’d always be the one in control. If he really wanted to he could fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk for a week, let alone stand.

He curls his fingers up inside you while the tip of his tongue flicks back and forth against your swollen nub. You tug at his hair harder. He feels you start to clench around his fingers as he hits that spongy spot you love so much.

“Harry.” You moan. You moan his name over over until you’re coming. He takes his fingers out of you and slips his tongue back inside to suck on you. He wanted all you’d give him. “Fuck.” You were out of breath.

He sits up between your legs and wipes chin with the back of his hand.

“Go get the towel and the lube.” He says to you.

You practically squeal while you grab everything. You lay the towel down for him and he sits on top of it.

“Are you sure it won’t be easier on your stomach?”

“No, I want to be able to look at you while you do it. I’ll just hold my legs up like last time.”

“Okay. I’m just gonna blow you for a few minutes first.”

“Sounds good to me.”

You smile and lick up his shaft. You wrap your lips around his tip and slide down. His hips buck up slightly. He felt like he could explode at any second. Going down on you really got him going. Your tongue slides back forth on his slit, lapping up at his precome.

“Shit.” He groans. One of your hands cradles his balls and massages them lightly. “So good, babe.”

You come off him with a popping sound. You grab the lube and put some on your fingers. You warm it up as best you can. You look at him.

“All clean right?”

“Mhm, I sprayed the water right up in there.” You both giggle.

“Okay.”

You lean up and press your forehead against his while he hooks his arms under his knees to give you better access. Your finger tip lightly grazes around him. You start laughing and so does he.

“I’m sorry, I’m just nervous.” You look at him.

“I am too, it’s okay. We can laugh through it, we don’t need to be so serious. S’kinda funny anyways.”

“Yeah, like, my bare finger is gonna go into your ass.”

“Yup.” You both laugh again. “Hold on, before you push in, just like squirt some of th lube directly on me.”

“Won’t that be too cold?”

“It’s fine, I’ll adjust.”

You grab the bottle and put it directly on him. He clenches at how cool it is but he relaxes again. You kiss him as you lightly play with his hole, getting him to relax more and more. Eventually you start to push your middle finger inside of him. He winces at first.

“Nail’s a little long.”

“Shit, I should have clipped them.”

“S’okay, just be careful.”

You continue to kiss him and you feel him relax around you as your finger goes in deeper. There was so much trust between the two of you and you were so happy. You get it all the way in and you pause.

“What should I do now? Curl it up? Move it?”

“Bring it out all the way slowly, put more lube on, and then put it back in.”

You nod and do just that. Eventually you’re able to get a second finger in, and he seems to be enjoying it by the way his cock twitches.

“Doing okay, Harry?”

“Mhm.” Beads of sweat were rolling down his forehead. “Doesn’t feel too bad actually. DO you wanna get the plug now, think I’m stretched out enough.”

“Yeah!” You pull your fingers out of him. “I’m just gonna go wash my hands, one second.” You race into the bathroom and scrub your fingers quickly. You return with the plug in your hand. You get it lubed up and start to push it inside him.

He gasps but relaxes. You had done a pretty good job of stretching him out. Once you get it all the way in, you focus your attention on his cock. You wrap your mouth around his dripping tip and suckle on it.

“Did you…did you wanna try…” He was panting. You look up at him and you can’t help but smile at the beautiful blush covering his cheeks.

“What is it, Harry? Tell me what you want.” You coo as you pump his dick.

“The, uh, you know…the dildo.”

“Babe, it doesn’t have a base.”

“So tie somethin’ around the end of it.”

“Is that safe?”

“I just…I need somethin’ to go deeper.” Your mouth falls open and then you bite your bottom lip.

“Okay, don’t be mad, but I did buy something else.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know, we haven’t done this in a while and I didn’t want you to get freaked out.”

You get off the bed and go into the back of your closet. You grab a bag and your hands shake as you take the item in it out.

“Oh.”

“I…I’m a little nervous to put it on. Is this going to be weird for you?”

“I think we’ve crossed the point of weird, don’t you?” He chuckles.

“But it’s going to be me…with a penis.”

“Not really. Let’s just remember to laugh, okay?”

“Okay.”

You slip it on over yourself and you look at him.

“Straps around your ass look nice.”

“Stop” You laugh. “Should I put a condom on it?”

“Um, I think just the lube should be fine.”

“Okay.”

You take a deep breath and get on the bed. You carefully pull the plug out of him.

“You’re about this, we don’t have to do this, Harry.”

“No, I want to.”

“Not just because I want to?”

“Y/N…” He cups your cheek with his hand. “If you’re too nervous, we don’t have to go this far tonight. I’m honestly okay.”

“Alright.”

You take the lube and squirt it into your hand. You rub it all over the dildo attached to the strap.

“Ready?”

“Mhm.” He keeps his legs held back for you as you slowly slip inside him. He lets out a deep breath and relaxes as much as he can.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“How does it…how does it feel?”

“Lotta pressure.” He says through gritted teeth. He looks up at you and smirks.

“What?” You start chuckling.

“You just look…sexy, I don’t know how to describe it.”

“It is pretty hot isn’t it?”

“Little bit, yeah.” He relaxes more and you’re able to fit the whole thing inside him. “Holy shit.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, opposite of hurt.”

“Oh! Maybe I hit your prostate.”

“Look at that, you’re a natural.” You both laugh.

You starts to pull out a little and you get some more lube on the dildo to add to his comfort. You thrust back in slowly and he lets out another breath. Eventually it actually starts to feel really good for him. You pump his cock while you go in and out of him. Keeping your eyes on his face the whole time to make sure he’s alright.

“You’re doing so well, Harry. How’s it feel, am I making you feel good?” The tip of the dildo keeps brushing against just where he needs it to, and your hand wrapped around hip, thumb working his tip, was pushing him over the edge.”

“I think I’m gonna come.” He gasps. “Oh my goooodd, please let me come on your tits.”

His moans were really getting to you. You angle his dick towards his chest, and with a couple final pumps and thrusts he was coming all over you.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He groans.

You both take a second to catch your breaths. You slowly slide out of him and take the strap off. His legs fall onto the bed. A lot of the lube comes out of him, but you try not to look. You straddle his hips and hover over him. You hug him close to you, neither of you really caring about how messy everything is.

“Are you okay? You did so good, sooo good Harry.” You give him gentle kisses on lips and cheeks. “Thank you, thank you, we don’t ever have to do it again if you didn’t like it.”

“Babe.” He says breathlessly. “I’m good.” He cups your cheeks in his hands and brings you down to kiss him. “We can do it again.”

“Really? It felt that good?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard.” You smile at him. “And you looked…I mean…it was hot.” You kiss him again. “Not an all the time thing though…maybe for like…special occasions?”

“Sure! How ‘bout if you’re in the mood for it, you tell me.”

“That sounds like a good deal.”

“How are your legs, you had them up for a while?”

“They’re fine, just tired. I feel like I have a whole new respect for what I put your body through all the time.” You giggle and kiss him.

“Would you like me to draw us a bath? Get all clean and cozy?”

“Yeah, I think that would be nice.”

“Okay.”

You climb off him and he watches you go into the bathroom. His asshole was on fire, but he couldn’t muster the energy to care. He was exhausted. You throw a bath bomb into the water and the room fills with the smell of cinnamon and apples.

“Baby? Tub’s all filled.”

“Okay.” He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and you help him up.

“I’ll clean the bed up when we’re done.”

“Alright.”

He lets you get into the water first so he can sit in front of you. He leans his head back against your shoulder and closes his eyes. He just needed some time to come back. You massaged his scalp and peppered light kisses to his temple.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, baby?” You coo.

“Do you think you’ll ever want to try it?” He tilts his head to look at you. “M’just curious.”

“I…don’t know. Maybe. I could try the plug some time I suppose.”

“Only if you want.”

“We’ll see.” You smile and he nestles back down. “So…did it hurt at all?”

“Um, it’s not that it hurt, it was mostly like discomfort for a little bit. But then it sort of just started to feel good, I can’t explain it. You were really careful with me, I appreciate it.” He takes of your hands and kisses the back of it.

“I love you, Harry.”

“I love you too.” He sighs happily.

“Wanna watch a movie tonight? We could get cozy on the sofa in our robes, and I could do your nails for you, and I could pop some popcorn.”

“I will never say no to you offering to do my nails, that all sounds great.”

Harry gets into his robe and meets you to the sofa after you’ve cleaned the bedroom. You come over with some popcorn and a couple of beers. You let him pick through your polish colors, and you let him pick the movie. Believe it or not he really wanted to watch To All The Boys I Loved Before.

“Read the book when I was younger.”

“Don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

You take his old polish off and file his nails. You end up painting them a nice pastel blue and purple.

“How’s it look?”

“Perfect, thank you.” You lean in to kiss him.

“You’re more than welcome.”

“Now, come lay with me so I can spoon you. Time to may some attention to the other bum in this house.”

You giggle and lay down with him, one of his legs slipping between you. He holds onto you and you both enjoy the movie. When you think about what had happened only an hour or so prior, you feel like anyone on the outside looking in would think it was weird. Or that maybe Harry wasn’t as into women as he led on. But you knew none of that was the case. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought because it wasn’t weird for either of you. And if there was one thing Harry loved, it was a vagina. It wasn’t really about him needing or wanting something up his butt. It was about the two of you exploring something together, and seeing where the journey took you.

You roll onto your back and he looks down at you with an eyebrow raised.

“I love you.” You say.

“I love you too.” He says back, and gives you a tender kiss.

Even though he had just been freshly fucked, and he honestly still looked like it, he had caught a second wind. Before you knew it the two of you were giggling with your legs over his shoulders while he fucked you on the sofa. Yup, he still had complete control.

#harry styles #take it slow #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles fic #smut #fluff #im so sorry #i blacked out while writing this #i have zero control over my hands anymore #come hang in my ask box!

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