#other than that I spent lots of time finding placement for the bottom half | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

inventory, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You’re missing a piece of inventory from your erotica shop. Surprisingly, you find it in the same day. It’s around your boyfriend’s neck, who also happens to be your sub. Hm, well, you have to act accordingly, don’t you?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; non-idol!AU; dom/sub dynamic; feels and there’s a decent bit of buildup; smut (mirror kink, spitting, cock ring usage, cock-slapping, scratching, spanking, vibrator use, overstimulation, edging, m-masturbation, cum eating, f-receiving oral); fluff; noona dom!reader x sub!Jungkook

technically part iv of ‘customer service’ series, but can be read alone

–

customer service part i | part ii | part iii

Jeon Jungkook was a problem.

Technically, your problem.

You tapped your pen against your recordkeeping book. No one was in the store. It was the middle of the week. Not usually the time to get freaky. People got freaky on the weekends. You usually spent these times doing the boring stuff. Setting up the deliveries for the rich customers that purchased clothing from you. Cleaning the store from top to bottom and finding some interesting fluids in interesting places. Typical. Answering emails, accounting, taking inventory. You were missing one piece of inventory, but those things always turned up eventually. You weren’t worried.

Eh, wasn’t a big problem.

Your big problem was Jeon Jungkook.

He wanted to be exclusive. Okay. He wanted it to be a relationship. Slightly less in your comfort zone, but you were willing to give it a shot. Unfortunately, Jungkook also wanted one more thing.

He wanted you to lose you temper at him.

Now, there were several things you, personally, did not do anymore. And number one on the list was losing your temper. You did not want to be in power and actively angry at the person you were fucking at the same time. It was dangerous. It was irresponsible. You’ve gone too far before and hurt your sub. You weren’t going to repeat it.

Not with Jungkook, no matter how much he tried to rile you up.

And he tried. Disobeyed you outright. Talked back. Taunted you. It took a lot of your skill and redirection to focus his attention elsewhere and not at his ultimate goal of pissing you off so much that you used sex as a weapon, because quite frankly, that was a fucked-up thing to do and you were not going to do it. You would rather leave than become that.

You told him this. You told him that he should not try to provoke you, especially not this early in the relationship. His body couldn’t handle it, he couldn’t handle it mentally, and you didn’t want to end up emotionally and sexually abusing him, even if it was an accident. Because it was your responsibility to not do that and you took that shit very seriously.

Jungkook had agreed reluctantly and he still tried.

Sigh.

You rubbed your forehead. If he was an experienced sub, then maybe you could be less strict. But he wasn’t. And yeah, maybe you were a little scared. Because your last relationship had ended very, very badly, because you had gone too far and your sub had been too scared to use the safe word even when it was too much and that really, really fucked you up. You regretted it, even after all this time, even after all the apologizing, even after your sub had forgiven you, multiple times.

You had never forgiven yourself for it.

The whole relationship had fallen apart because of that one time.

After that, you didn’t really date. All you did was have one-night stands with subs you already knew. It was easy having sex with no strings attached. Now you were dating Jungkook. Yeah, that. The dating bit. It was messing you up. It was making you overly cautious. You didn’t want to repeat your mistakes.

You let out a tense exhale.

You didn’t tell Jungkook about this, mostly because you didn’t want to admit it. You didn’t want to admit your sub had been too scared of you to use their safe word. You were ashamed. Scared of yourself and what you were capable of.

Sometimes, when you thought about it, you wondered if you should stop. Give up on the dom/sub thing and have vanilla sex instead with some nice guy who had a normal job and raise some babies and fucking chill out. Seemed nice. Life wasn’t about needing a power complex when being intimate after all. You could have a perfectly satisfying sex life with two people in equal power. Could even still be kinky without the whole ‘I’m the authority and you have to listen to me’ thing.

Yeah, well. Before you could commit to that, Jeon Jungkook decided to fucking seduce you in your own damn sex shop.

You placed your hands on your head and let out a big sigh.

Damn you, Jungkook.

You found your missing piece of inventory.

It was around Jeon Jungkook’s neck when he opened his apartment door for you.

Your face was completely neutral, one hand in the pocket of your black trench coat. The other holding your black leather briefcase. Underneath the coat, you wore a simple floor-length black skirt. Black heels. Nothing but your face and hands uncovered. In one second, you took in every detail upon seeing Jungkook.

One, his long black hair was tied back, his bangs framing his large brown eyes. Two, he was wearing a little bit of makeup. Slight amount of eyeshadow and liner, lip balm to make his lips pinker. Three, he was wearing a very low V-necked black t-shirt that was quite obviously meant to show off his shapely collarbones and sculpted pecs. The ink-black tattoos in his right arm stood out against his tan skin. Fourth, he was wearing leather pants – not the ones you made him, that would be indecent exposure showing up to the door like that – but, still, black tight faux leather trousers that he half-tucked his shirt in so his crotch was visible.

And.

Fifth.

He was wearing a black leather collar around his neck, one with a large silver ring hanging down at the center. It had silver studs with in the shape of a diamond pattern punched into the leather. It closed in the back with a silver buckle.

How did you know this?

It was your missing piece of inventory, of course.

You clicked your tongue.

“Oh! Noona,” Jungkook said nervously, biting his lip.

You little shit, don’t you ‘oh, noona’ me. You almost turned around and left. Almost. Irritation was putting it mildly. You were pissed. He had stolen from your shop. Became an actual fucking thief to get a rise out of you. You two weren’t going out on a date. It was already late, so both of you had intended on having a nice night in. He’d dressed up for it, as one does. Made himself pretty for you to ruin. Jungkook knew what he wanted. And he wasn’t being subtle about it, wearing the stolen inventory right in front of your face the second he opened the door.

He wanted you mad and he wanted you mad from the start.

You did not look at the collar. Instead, you stared into his eyes, furious internally, but completely placid on the outside. His brown orbs were observing you in anticipation. He wanted it. Bad. You had refused to let him cum last time because he had talked back to you. That was a week ago. You wondered if he had jacked off or not. You put no such restrictions on him even though he asked you to. You were curious on how far Jungkook was willing to go, so you let him choose.

And, clearly, Jungkook choose death.

Just kidding. But he was really testing you here. And so, you made up your mind.

You waited, raising an eyebrow.

Jungkook flushed and backed up, holding the door with two hands.

“C-Come in.”

You stepped inside, heels clicking on the hardwood. Jungkook closed the door behind you. The large, floor-length mirror was in the living room again. The incident in the fitting room must have really had an impact on him. Maybe he was developing a mirror kink because of it.

You felt Jungkook slide up next to you, his breath against your ear. Shallow, needy, already horny. You weren’t surprised. Nobody dresses like that and doesn’t want to be fucked.

“N-noona…” He was making his voice desperate and breathy, already submissive for you. “I really missed you.”

“That’s lovely to hear.”

You kept your tone light, no pet names, stepping out of your heels and walking towards the couch. Jungkook followed you like a shadow, still chewing on his lip, messing up his own hard work of making himself pretty for you. You placed your briefcase on the coffee table. He hovered as you undid your trench coat slowly, pulling open the tie and unbuttoning it deftly, fingers dancing on the placket.

“I can help you?” Jungkook offered, holding his hands out.

Your eyes gradually lifted, locking your gaze with his. You saw him visibly shiver in excitement.

“No need.”

You saw Jungkook pout as you slipped out of the coat, one arm, then the other, revealing the white dress shirt that was neatly tucked into your black skirt. It had pleated detailing down the front and silver collar pins, completed by the silver cuff links you used to close the sleeves. You folded the coat elegantly and laid it over the back of his couch.

“Are you mad, noona?”

You want me to be mad. Thankfully, at this point you had calmed a little. Yes, Jungkook was an idiot for doing such a thing, but he wasn’t doing it because he was trying to hurt you or actually steal from you. Maybe it was something he’d seen or read in porn. Maybe it was something his brain devised because he felt some weird need to prove to you that he was a good and obedient sub, because he knew you had previous partners and he wanted to outdo them or something. Maybe he wanted to see how much of a dom you really were.

And, most likely, it was all of those things.

“Jungkook.”

This time, you said his name with a sharper tone.

“Y… yes?”

You turned your right hand upwards, entirely aware of the placement of your fingers. Pinky, ring, middle curled inwards. Index up, thumb out. Poised, elegant, almost haughty. You flicked your cuff link, straightening the backing to slip it out. It was a diamond-shaped accessory, completely unnecessary for everyday life and completely necessary to force Jungkook to wait on you one more second. One more heart-stopping moment.

You glanced at his crotch. Hm. Interesting. Then you blinked and your eyes were on his. Hair hanging around his cheekbones, pupils dilating, swollen lips parted as he let out light pants of desire. He was slowly but surely losing it.

Maybe it was because his erection was suffocating in his leather pants.

You twirled your cuff link in your fingers. Jungkook watched the action, entranced by the dexterity of your digits. You knew what he wanted. He’d been texting you all day, trying to work you up. You had made him wait. Just like how you were making him wait now.

“What is your safe word?”

That was the question you used to start off the scene.

Instantly, you saw the relief, the hunger, the absolute need to serve flood his dark brown eyes. Now you were the dom. Now he was the sub.

“Euphoria,” Jungkook nearly moaned.

You nodded slowly, placing the cuff link on his coffee table. You upturned your other wrist, removing the other with a swift flick. You heard him whimper at the quick action. You almost smiled. He really wanted it. Ah, but you are a bad, bad boy, Jungkook. The metal clinked as it touched the walnut wood of the tabletop.

And there are consequences for being a bad, bad boy.

Your gaze connected with his once again. His eyes were practically begging for instruction.

“You look like you want to ask me something,” you drawled. His teeth sunk into his lower lip once more, the tiny mole underneath winking at you. “Go ahead.”

His eyes flitted about, trying to search for the trap. He swallowed, straining against the collar.

“Do… do you notice anything different about me?” Jungkook asked hesitantly, taking a step towards you.

You didn’t move from your position, observing him closely. His hands by his sides were antsy, itching to touch you or be caged with rope. You hooked your thumb at the base of your cuff and rolled it down. Once. Twice. Three times.

“You’re wearing makeup for me,” you replied, letting a small smile drift to your lips.

“A-ah…” He blushed. “Is it… is it too unmanly?”

Who the fuck put these ideas in Jeon Jungkook’s head? You just wanted to talk to them. And by talk, you meant flog the living daylights out of them. You had a big one at home. It could be arranged.

“No, of course not. You look very handsome.” Pause. “And fuckable.”

No reason not to tell the truth.

Jungkook’s cheeks flushed a dark pink. “T-Thank you, noona.”

During the entire conversation, you had folded the sleeves of your dress shirt up to your elbows. The stiff, crisp fabric held, and suddenly you were imposing, sleeves rolled up, black skirt skimming the hardwood floor. The neutral façade you had upheld for so long dropped away. Jungkook noticed the change instantly, even though you hadn’t actually said anything yet. His eyes widened a little, shoulders tensing.

Your eyes flashed, chin lifting.

“Or is that not what you meant, pretty boy?”

You did not hide the irritation in your voice this time. His breathing hitched, the muscles his arms ripped and Jungkook very, very much wanted to be punished.

“Um…” He fiddled with his hands guiltily, eyes skirting about. “It’s not what I was referring to, no…”

“Look at me.”

He snapped his head up, gulping. So obvious. His neck strained against the leather. You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What were you referring to?” you questioned icily.

Jungkook was shaking all over. He lifted his hand slowly, reaching up to his neck, hooking two fingers around the metal ring of the collar. He tightened them, tugging down a little, eyelashes fluttering, a tiny moan rumbling in his throat. You were going insane on the inside. Fuck, did he know how submissive he was? Did he know how his small, cute little actions made him look so fucking appetizing?

“T-This.”

“Ah, yes,” you finally acknowledged. You waved a hand and he removed his, biting his lip again. “I did notice that. A nice touch. Is it for me?”

He nodded quickly. He seemed to forget for a second that he stole it from you. “Yes, noona, it’s for you.”

You sighed. Jungkook’s expression changed, becoming slightly confused.

“Pause.”

The indication that there was an intermission in the scene. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You are testing me, Jungkook, and I do not like it.”

Jungkook’s brows knitted together, looking down. “I’m sorry, noona.”

“I told you that you shouldn’t try to make me angry on purpose.”

He closed the distance between you two, placing his hands on your elbows. His brown orbs anxiously found yours. “I… I just… please…” His fingers pressed into your skin, his breathing deepening. “I want to see how far I can go. How far you can take me. You won’t…” Jungkook shook his head, hair flying everywhere, ponytail bouncing. “You’re holding back, but I can take it, noona, I promise. I promise I can.” His fingertips caressed you, determination in his eyes.

Hm. Jungkook could tell. You breathed in deeply, inhaling his clean scent.

You are aware of your mistakes. You have learned.

You pursed your lips.

I really, really do not want to hurt you, Jungkook.

“You must promise me.” You looked deep into his eyes. “You must promise me, that if it is too much, if you cannot handle it, if it is not something you want, you must use your safe word.”

He nodded quickly. “I promise.”

And then you crumpled a little bit, your strict demeanor falling, the fears rising, the vulnerability making your voice quiver as you unfurled your arms and grabbed his t-shirt, shaking him roughly.

“No, Jungkook,” you pleaded. “You must promise me.” And you couldn’t explain, couldn’t bring yourself to say why, but he could tell how serious you were because you were suddenly weak, suddenly the parts of yourself that you kept under wraps revealed themselves, the parts you were ashamed of appearing, and you were letting him witness it. Because he said he wanted you. Not just dom you, but you.

And this, well, this was you too.

Jungkook’s eyes softened and he smiled. He leaned in and kissed you, long, sweet, delicate. It was like time stopped. As if the world froze and there was nothing but Jungkook’s lips on yours, reassuring and comforting. He drew back and opened his eyes slowly, warmth in his chocolate orbs.

“I promise.”

You looked up at him, stunned. He grinned at you, showing off his teeth, a little cheeky and embarrassed all at once. You removed your hands from his shirt, lowering them gradually.

“Sorry, I…”

Jungkook’s hands dropped and held yours tightly. He shook his head.

“No, noona. I understand. I know you are looking out for me,” he said brightly. “Because I’m always trying to get into trouble.”

A muscle in your eye twitched. At least he admitted it.

His teeth caught his lip, still smiling. Less nervous now, more playful.

You removed your hands from his. Okay. Okay, fine. Jungkook wanted you to be the dom. Not a dom, the dom. You let out a breath, controlled, clean. Step back into your role. You are in control. You can do this.

“What is your safe word?”

You cracked your neck, a sharp pop that made Jungkook jump.

“Euphoria,” he replied automatically.

“Very good.”

A beat passed. Jungkook remained close to you, unsure what was going to happen. His eyes wide and flighty, chin trembling, hands in front of his chest. You lowered yours, placing them behind your back. Piercing gaze on him, taking a step. His eyes followed you as you slowly circled him, speaking carefully and deliberately.

“So, Jungkook, tell me,” you began, skirt grazing the floor as your glided around him. “What makes you think you’re wearing the collar for me?”

Jungkook’s head whipped around quickly, following your movement with darting eyes. Damn, his ass looked great in these leather pants. He looked unconfident, brows furrowing, trying to conjure the right answer to get what he wanted.

“Um… I thought… maybe you might like it…” He stumbled through his words. “B-Because you like controlling me…”

You smiled at him. Jungkook brightened.

“I do.”

The eagerness beamed off his face as you stopped in front of him, still smiling pleasantly.

“I love controlling you.”

Then the smile dropped. The air around you became ten degrees colder with your shift in demeanor. Jungkook barely had a half-second to realize the change before your hand shot out and gripped the silver ring, yanking down harshly. He yelped, arms flying out, falling to his knees hard, gripping your skirt for balance. Your other arm was still behind you, folded into the small of your back. You narrowed your eyes, holding the collar ring so tightly that your knuckles were white.

His eyes flew up, pain and surprise.

You ticked your head. “But clearly, I’ve done a poor job, because you’ve gone and stole from me, you bad boy.”

Jungkook shook his head quickly, scooting himself forward, clutching your skirt tightly. “N-No, please, noona, I only–”

You yanked the ring up and Jungkook gasped, words cut off from the sudden jerk of his head snapping back. “You only what? Pickpocketed? Broke the law? Took my hard-earned money from right under my nose, to hurt me?”

“No, no, never,” Jungkook whimpered, looking up at you, blinking rapidly. “I don’t want to hurt you, noona. Never.”

“Then explain yourself,” you barked severely.

His eyes were turning teary, pleading. “I only… I only wanted to borrow it. So you could punish me and so I could show you I could be a good boy and take what I deserve.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Your other punishments weren’t enough?”

Jungkook’s lower lip quivered. The shame of his true intent was creeping in his eyes now.

“I… I wanted to see you angry, noona.”

“Even after I told you that you shouldn’t?”

He nodded, scurrying himself even closer on his now, most likely, bruised knees. Eyes on you, holding onto your skirt, whole body trembling. He angled his hips forward, showing you how hard he was in his pants, straining it even more by pressing his erection into the zipper of the leather. His lips open, black curls hanging around his face, almost pathetic but not quite, because you knew Jungkook was acutely aware of exactly what he looked like. Doing it to entice you, doing it to assure you that he wanted it.

“Y-Yes,” he admitted.

You forcefully let go of the ring, flinging him away from you. Jungkook squeaked, releasing your clothes as his body twisted to the side from your sharp movement. You swept your skirts away and took a step back.

“Noona, w-wait!”

Jungkook tried to scramble to his feet, but you snarled deep in your chest, making him freeze.

“Crawl.”

He looked startled, looking at you with wide puppy eyes. You took another step back. Jungkook followed you, on hands and knees, his bangs flared out, the low neckline of his shirt hanging down, revealing his chest. You could see his back muscles rippling under the fabric. Fuck, he was so handsome. You weren’t heading for the front door. You watched his mind calculate the angle of your body, mood lightening as he realized that was the direction of the bedroom. You, however, stopped at the floor-length mirror in the living room. Pointed to the patch of floor at your feet.

“Here. Now.”

Jungkook immediately complied, getting on his knees in front of you, hands between his legs, keen to please, facing you.

“Other way,” you clarified, sounding disappointed.

He lowered his head at his mistake and spun around, now facing his reflection. You glared through the mirror, making eye contact. He looked very sorry and very dejected. You almost forgave him just like that. Maybe Jungkook didn’t like this. Maybe you were being too harsh.

“Do you want to use your safe word?”

His eyes on yours. He shook his head lightly, not breaking your gaze.

“No, noona.” Your heart thudded in your chest at his tone of voice. “I’ve been a very bad boy.”

Jungkook licked his lips slowly, not looking away, the tip of his pink tongue lingering before sliding back into his mouth. He kept the same look in his eyes, but his actions were giving you the go ahead.

Shit.

You raised an eyebrow and lowered your hands. They floated above his shoulders and you were reminded of the first time, in the fitting room of your erotica shop, the moment he seduced you and pulled you into his pace. Jungkook tipped his head back, long hair sliding to his ears, the reflection of the stolen collar taunting you.

This brat.

Slowly, finger by finger, you placed your hands on his face. Fingertips pressing into his jaw, cheek, temple, into his soft skin, nails slightly digging in. Scratching up his pretty face a little, claiming it as yours. Jungkook had perfect bone structure, high cheekbones, sharp jaw, pretty forehead. He was panting, mouth open, hot breath drifting down. Hands on his thighs, clutching them tight.

You bent down, chin above his head so he could feel your hot breath on his scalp.

“My pretty boy,” you murmured softly. “Why must you be so bad? Do I not treat you well enough? Do I not give you what you love?”

“You do,” Jungkook whined in your hands, the guilt creeping into his voice. “You do, noona. Your pretty boy is… g-greedy.” He rolled his hips a little, spreading his thighs more, staring at his own reflection of his low-necked shirt and his thighs open, cock bulging in his leather pants.

Your fingers slipped down, down, tracing the leather collar. You let your index finger circle around the metal, not yet touching his chest, so close but so far. Jungkook kept trying to raise it into your touch. Your other hand reached back and grabbed his ponytail, yanking his head back. He moaned right into your chin, too turned on to pretend he was hurt.

“I am going to my briefcase,” you stated, not looking at him under you and instead staring at his reflection, torso straining from how sharply you were forcing him to arch his back. “You are to remove your clothes. Whatever is left on you will remain for the rest of the night. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes, noona.”

You abruptly let him go, striding to your briefcase swiftly, hearing a flurry of noise as Jungkook flung all of his clothes off. Snap, open, grab. You had already packed a black velvet bag holding the things you intended to use on him tonight. You spun around to see him practically ripping his leather pants off, the panic and regret evident on his face as he tried to shove them down his muscular calves. Smart boy had removed his underwear with his pants, smearing trails of pre-cum down his legs and onto the floor. You waited half a second for Jungkook to pop them over his ankles and he threw the pants to the far wall, so hard they made a loud slapping noise. Jungkook was on his hands and knees, panting, beads of sweat on his forehead.

It was actually hilarious to watch, but now was not the time to laugh.

Jungkook snapped his head towards you, eyes wide, his hard cock smacking his thigh. You raised an eyebrow at him. He gulped. Wearing nothing but the collar. Oh, he looked so good. You could tell him to get into position.

Or.

Tease him.

“Want to put my mouth on you, handsome boy.”

His cock twitched as his jaw dropped.

Your tongue slid out and stayed at the side of your lips as you spoke. “You look so tasty for me. When was the last time you came, Jungkook?”

His hands curled into fists on the hardwood floor, legs falling open, cock throbbing. The veins stood out against the hardness, head swollen and red.

“F-Fifteen days ago…” he whimpered.

He had denied himself. So cute. What a good boy. You smiled at him, still holding the velvet bag. “Really? You didn’t cum, not even once, without me?”

Jungkook shook his head rapidly, hair flying everywhere. “Wa… wanted to be tasty for you.”

You pouted a little. “Hm, that’s half a month. You waited so long.”

Jungkook nodded, chewing on his lip. You gestured for him to adjust his position and he turned his body to fully face you.

“Eyes on the mirror.”

He turned his head to face his reflection. Hands on the floor next to his ass, slightly leaning back, legs open.

“Look away and I’ll walk away,” you warned.

“Y-yes, noona.”

You floated down to the floor. He couldn’t exactly see you, but you slid into the frame of the mirror, right between his legs. The velvet bag was out of his sight, next to his leg, but Jungkook wasn’t paying attention. He was staring at his stiff cock and your proximity to it, holding his breath. You collected your saliva on your tongue and opened your mouth. It dripped down in a thin, slim line, hitting the angry red head of his cock and causing it to jerk at the sudden impact, coating it.

“A-ah, s-so good…”

“What do we say?” you purred, collecting more.

“T-thank you, noona,” Jungkook moaned, watching as you dropped more onto his aching cock, splattering onto his crotch. You lowered your head, closer. Closer. Jungkook sucked in a breath, waiting, needing, trying not to move. You made eye contact with him in the mirror.

“You’re a bad boy, Jungkook.”

And then you spat on his balls.

His head tipped back as he groaned, eyes barely open as he watched himself, chest shuddering as he felt it trickle down and onto the floor below. You spat on his genitals again, more force this time, spraying it across his cock and stomach. He cried out, slamming one of his fists onto the hardwood.

“Y-yes, noona, I’m a bad boy.”

And then you produced a cock ring seemingly out of nowhere, eyebrow raised as he wailed loudly.

“N-no, please, please don’t,” Jungkook panicked as you brought the black silicone ring closer and closer to his now saliva-drenched cock. “Please, I promise to be a good boy, please don’t do it…”

You said nothing, simply placing it on the engorged head and using three fingers to hold it, pushing down slowly.

“Noona, a-ah… no…” His eyelids fluttered, eyes on the reflection of his thick cock being viciously squeezed into the silicone ring. He let out a choked sob as it popped over the bottom of the head, sliding down, down, all the way to the base. You barely touched him, removing your hand as Jungkook shuddered, his pulsating length now bound by the black band.

You raised your head. He was still, very obediently, staring at the mirror.

You smacked his cock with your palm.

Not hard, but enough to make it bounce and for Jungkook to squeal, hips rising as his dick shook from side to side, unable to move much from the tight cock ring. He was making it move more by rocking his hips, heightening the feeling of being bound.

You waited until it stopped swaying.

“Your neighbors will hear you, Jungkook,” you said calmly. You turned your head and looked into the mirror. His eyes locked on yours, pupils dilated, strands of hair clinging to his sweaty face. “Should I gag you?”

“N-no, noona,” he whispered hotly, breathing shallow and tight. “They have to know I’m being punished. B-Because I’ve been b-bad.”

Good gracious, Jungkook.

Your panties instantly soaked. Who was losing it here? Was it him or was it you? Fuck.

You slowly smacked his cock back and forth, back and forth, staring at his face in the mirror. His head tipped back, not closing his eyes, moaning wantonly as his stiff length was roughly shoved around, barely any pressure and too much at once because of how hard he was. You stopped, watching his cock bob, almost purple-red now. Pre-cum beaded at the tip.

You couldn’t help it.

You leaned down, tucking your hair behind your ear so he could see, and gave the slit a tiny kitten lick.

Fuuuuuuuck.

Jungkook lost control, eyes rolling back into his head, and you almost moaned, his strong, intense taste all over your tongue. He tasted so good. So fucking delicious. You pulled back, pretending not to notice that Jungkook had looked away from the mirror as he quickly collected himself, back to staring at his reflection. You grabbed his hips and dug your nails into his skin, dragging him so his body was tilted.

“Flip over,” you growled.

You backed up, taking the velvet pouch with you as Jungkook obeyed, on his hands and knees now.

“On your face.”

Jungkook whimpered, lowering his cheek to the cool floor, leaning against it. Now his ass was up in the air, vulnerable and exposed.

“Both hands on the ring.”

His teeth sank into his lower lip, scooting his hands so he held the silver collar ring with fingers on both hands, arms against the floor to hold him up. His cock stuck straight down, stiff and swollen, trapped in the silicone circle. You waited to let Jungkook readjust his knees to be more comfortable and so he could see everything. The muscles on his back tensed with anticipation.

“I didn’t cover your mouth for a reason.”

“Yes, noona,” Jungkook breathed.

You raised your hands and raked your nails over his back, all the way to his ass. Hard, deep, leaving lines of pink and red, almost breaking the skin. Jungkook moaned, tongue sliding out, body shaking, eyelids fluttering. You did it again, and again, creating your pattern of lust on his back.

“Mine,” you growled possessively. Your eyes locked with his.

Thump.

Had anyone ever looked at you with so much adoration before?

Jungkook nodded.

“All yours, noona.”

You slapped his ass with your open palm.

He yelped, shoulders hitting the floor, face sliding a little against the wood. Pupils dilating, whimpering for more. You smacked him again, and again, and again, never the same spot, always with the full palm, all over, causing large red handprints patterned all over his ass. Jungkook was a groaning mess, legs slipping, the head of his cock touching the hardwood.

You stopped.

His ass was bright red, covered in your slaps and scratches.

Jungkook opened his eyes. He seemed to realize he wasn’t looking at his reflection anymore. He panicked, seeing your glare in the mirror, and tried to raise his hips, but your hand stopped him. The tip of his cock was in contact the floor, dripping pre-cum.

You pressed his hips down a little and shifted them from side to side.

Even the little stimulation of the head against the hardwood made Jungkook moan, pleading with you as he desperately clutched the collar.

“Noona, p-please… Please let me c-cum…”

You removed your hand. Jungkook continued rubbing himself in his own puddle of pre-cum on his living room floor, as you predicted. You didn’t stop him. You reached into the velvet pouch again. Jungkook’s eyes had fluttered closed as he continued stimulating himself, probably not enough, but he didn’t seem to care. You pressed the thing in your hand onto his scrotum and turned it on.

“A-ah!”

Jungkook’s hips flew up, balls suddenly shaking violently from the bullet vibrator in your hand. He shut his legs, sticking his ass out into your hand as he gasped, pressing back into the vibrator as you lazily drifted it around his balls.

“Oh, fuck, noona, oh, fuck!”

He was still holding onto the collar somehow as he tried to get more, wiggling his hips, but you were faster, grabbing his ass with one hand and digging your nails into it.

“Stop.”

Jungkook froze, whimpering and panting on the hardwood, cheeks hollowed out, eyes glazed over.

You traced his asshole with the tip of the vibrator.

His eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out.

“Oh, please, noona, put it in me, p-please…”

You drew figure-eights around his asshole and his balls, calmly.

“I bet you would love that, but you’ve been a bad boy, so I don’t think so.”

Jungkook whined, shaking his head, dark curls fluttering, soaked with sweat.

“P-please, I’ll be good, I need it, I need you to do it, fuck, please.”

“No.”

You pressed the vibrator into the cock ring and Jungkook nearly screamed, cutting himself off by snapping his jaw shut and yelling into the floor, hips jerking in your hands. You kept it there for a good five seconds before you removed it and backed up, reaching into the velvet bag again. Jungkook had maybe one shaking inhale before you gripped him under his armpits, hoisting him up.

“Let go of the ring,” you commanded, and his hands dropped, helping you get him to his knees. His bruised knees. Still, he leaned against you, soaking your clothes with his sweat, spreading his legs out more so his body lowered and your head could be seen past his shoulder.

You reached down and removed the cock ring, Jungkook gasping in relief. It rolled away, now forgotten.

“Get yourself off.”

“B-but, noona…”

Your hands appeared and pressed against his nipples, turning on both bullet vibrators at once.

“Get. Yourself. Off.”

“F-fuck!”

His hand immediately flew to his cock, viciously pumping himself as you rubbed his nipples with the toys, his groans rumbling in his chest with the vibrations, so strong, so intense, his tan skin glistening with sweat, arm tattoos dancing as he stroked himself fast, his cock so hard it was purple now, veins popping out.

And, like the masochist he was…

Jungkook grabbed the head and squeezed firmly, cutting off his own orgasm with a wail.

You responded just as fast, dropping your hands and shoving the vibrators against his balls, twice as much stimulation as before. His head fell back against your shoulder, half-moans, half-screams of your name as he bucked into them, working himself up once again, your breath against his neck, your eyes watching Jungkook’s reflection – his shaking legs, his balls cupped in your hands, his abused and overstimulated cock popping in and out of his tattooed hand, his now inflamed nipples, sweat dripping down his neck, long black hair flared out against your cheek, the mole under his lower lip trembling with his cries.

Fuck, he was everything. Everything you ever wanted.

“Ah, noona, yes, yes, you’re so good to me, so good…”

“Cum on the mirror,” you demanded. “Cum all over yourself, pretty boy.”

Jungkook whined, snapping his head back down, feeling you increase the vibration setting on his balls and that was it, the tipping point as he sobbed out your name, shooting all over the mirror in large splatters of white, jerking his hips so it traveled higher, sticking onto the reflective glass, all over his reflection.

And he watched it, moaning, so entranced by his likeness covered in his own cum, dripping down in slow smears, messy and dirty.

You turned off the vibrators, withdrew your hands from him.

“Lick it off.”

Jungkook was exhausted, wheezing, hoarse, and yet he still removed his hand from his cock, crawling to the mess he made, pink tongue flopping out, licking his own cum off the mirror, eating it up with groans of satisfaction. You watched him, fascinated, surprised he even listened to you, surprised he was still going, because honestly at this point, you really thought you had gone too far, but Jungkook was enthusiastically making out with his own face with his orgasm at your command, and loving every second of it.

“Jungkook.”

He pushed himself away from the mirror, immediately coming to you, his dark brown eyes hazy with pleasure. He dumped himself in your lap. You still wearing all your clothes. He looked up at you, lips curving into a naughty grin.

“I love it when you turn me into your plaything.”

This guy.

“What do you want?” Jungkook panted. “I’ll do anything. Anything for you.”

Oh, that’s right. You had spent so much focus and energy on Jungkook that you completely forgot about yourself. How did that happen? Ah, but you were so tired now. You let out a puff of disbelief and slid down to the floor.

“I want a nap. Get back to me tomorrow morning.”

You woke up slowly to something wet and hot between your legs.

Can I wake you up by eating you out tomorrow morning?

If you brush your teeth.

Really?!

If you brush your teeth, yes.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, breathing in Jungkook’s scent. His bed. His tongue against your opening, softly lapping, burying his nose into your core. You pursed your lips, sighing softly. The tip of the wet muscle slid up, licking at your clit. You pressed your hips into his face and the large hands around your thighs tightened, holding you closer.

He moaned, so hot, right into your pussy.

Your hands released the sheets, sliding across the fabric, up your hip, tracing his fingers. Eyes still closed, feeling for his long hair, clean, fluffy, wild from sleep. Burying your fingers in the strands, pressing him down into you.

“Ah, Jungkook…”

He licked faster, lips closing around your clit, pushing his head into you as he pressed your thighs into the sides of his face. You could feel his cheekbones, his jaw rubbing against your skin. Felt his wet warmth, rapidly rubbing your sensitive nub.

“That’s a good boy,” you purred and he whined, vibrating your pussy with the sound.

Your fingers tightened in his hair and you hissed, gliding into your orgasm, dripping into his mouth as your clit throbbed against his tongue, pleasure flooding you like a warm blanket.

You finally opened your eyes, breathing out as you saw Jungkook’s handsome face between your legs, cleaning you up. He kissed the insides of your thighs, nuzzling your skin. He seemed to feel you watching him and his eyes looked up, bright, doe-like, chocolatey. His pink lips glistened with your release.

“Noona?”

“Mhm?”

“Can I keep the collar?”

You raised an eyebrow. He smiled at you, playful, naughty.

“If you pay for it,” you replied, half-joking.

His tongue flashed out.

“I can pay in cash and in orgasms.”

You laughed as Jungkook dove down between your legs once again.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #jk x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jk smut

414 notes · View notes

jarofstyles · 4 years

Text

Fan Club IV

A/N: This part 👀 I can’t lie, it’s very hot and smutty. Y’all did ask for filth though so, be warned. It’s the catalyst to essentially the rest of the story. This of course, as all our stories are, is all fiction, so, sit back and enjoy! ✨✨✨ - n + d

send feedback and requests here

masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: smut, filth!, exhibitionism, DIRTY talk, degradation!kink, messy 👀, angst

word count: 16k

When Jeff texted Y/N about an event that she was meant to attend with Harry at the club she got slightly nervous. One, because she knew there would be loads of paps, two because it was a club night with Harry, three because drunk Y/N was something else.

The outfit was already selected, Y/N had picked out something she knew would wow both Harry and everyone else at the club. She figured since most girls Harry had on his arm were beautiful in the model way, Y/N would show off what it meant to be beautiful in another way. The dress showed off every single curve she had, accented her waist and brought attention to her assets with grace. It was a light pink silky dress and it fit like a glove. Y/N has spent the night before and day of preparing. Showering, moisturizing, doing her hair and makeup to make sure it was absolutely perfect. She sprayed herself with her perfume and checked herself out in the mirror one more time. She looked impeccable if she did say so herself.

Harry hadn’t been sure about what the night would bring. Things with Y/N had been alright. Sometimes he would be a little cold but it was mainly after she would turn him on, and he had to kill the mood ASAP. Because if he didn’t? He may do something he regretted.

Tonight she was going to go home with him. Jeff had chartered a car for them, so he had gotten driven to pick up Y/N as well, they’d never had a sleepover before. He wasn’t sure what that would bring either. How far his self control could stretch. Harry liked to think he could be good with it. But with the possibility of Y/N now knowing his weakness, his lowered inhibitions, and close quarters would be so difficult for him. He felt a little nervous pulling up to her place, popping a piece of gum in his mouth. Jeff had said they needed to be a bit more obvious about their relationship now, and Harry needed a few drinks in him to really let go. To her it would be acting. To him? It was living out a fantasy with an excuse afterwards. However when Y/N had crawled into the car, his throat went dry. No. No fucking way— he was gong. To die. The silk of the dress clinging to every inch of her, her lips glossy and a deeper color. He was going into overdrive in his mind.

“Hiya!” Y/N giggled as she hopped into the car. She knew. Of course she knew the outfit she was wearing was going to push the envelope, it would make Harry act a certain way and inevitably help her find out how he actually felt about her. Y/N wanted to know for a fact if she was making up the sexual tension between them because Harry really was just flirty. Fucking libra placements. Jeff had instructed the two of them to drink tonight, let loose and just have fun. That worried Y/N a tad bit because well, when she was drunk she had no filter. For the sake of the club night and people watching them it would be great, for them alone tonight? She wasn’t so sure. From what she knew about drunk Harry? Well, he’d be all over her too. But drunk Harry really just clung on to anyone around him.

During the week Harry and Y/N had seen each other a few times in the morning at the bakery, did their usual routine and well, Harry truly would have eaten his body weight in lemon bars by the end of it all. More fans were coming into the bakery, expecting to see him. They were actually surprisingly really nice to Y/N and gave her compliments and told her that she was doing a great job. Y/N was told not to confirm or deny to make things seem more natural, but still let them know that it was in fact true.

Harry had to reconnect his brain to his mouth because half of him was dying at the moment. The bottom half. His brain was fuzz. How did a girl look this good? How? And of course. It was the one person he shouldn’t be having at all. But his body gave not a single fuck, and his heart too, apparently.

“Hi...” He said after clearing his throat. “You look.... uh, good.” Fit. Sexy. The dress clinging to the curves that had his mouth watering and the fact he knew they’d be dancing tonight and she would feel if he was hard which... he couldn’t kid himself and say there wasn’t a high possibility. It was scary. There was more than just sexual frustration too, for example, how Harry did actually like her, but he was too afraid to get hurt. How he wanted to hold her hand and always, always wanted to be touching her all the damn time. He knew after a few drinks he could be needy, clingy. Would Y/N be okay with it? Their mornings at the bakery had resulted in some cheek kisses and hugs longer than needed but, he hadn’t been very touching before.

“thanks babe.” Y/N smiled, “you look nice as usual.” She added as she buckled up. They talked more often now, things were less awkward during car rides and frankly she had a feeling Harry was only quiet because he was overwhelmed by how she looked. The drive was a short one, seeing as they were relatively close to central by car. It would be quick to get to the club they were meant to be at and Y/N knew that the second they stepped out of this car they’d be all over each other.

As they arrived, paparazzi stood waiting for them, having expected this event. Jeff has planned tonight to be the official announcement of their relationship. They had been photographed for four months now and well, people were eating it up.

“Alright.. I know that the paparazzi are a lot sometimes so just don’t let go of my hand and I’ll make sure you’re good. Yeah?”’ The memories of her panic attack made him so sad. So worried. Harry didn’t want that to happen again but if it did, at least now he knew how to deal with them. Half of him was giddy with excitement though. Getting to be touchy with her, getting to hold her close and be coupley? He was very much wanting that. Either it would help him get it out of his system or it would fuck him over. Either way, he would be touching her.

Harry got out first, holding her hand as he helped her down. He was feeling extra protective but this time they stood back. Still shouting things but he squeezed her slender hand in his and helped her towards the door. It really was show time.

Y/N appreciated how worried Harry was, nodding at him as he spoke and giving his hand a squeeze. Stepping out of the car, she was thankful that this time the paps actually had barriers they couldn’t cross. It took a lot of the anxiety away and well, she just stayed close to Harry and walked inside feeling like she really had accomplished something. The person working the door took her jacket, exposing her and all her beauty to everyone at the event. The silk of her dress made sure she felt the warmth of Harry’s touch even more so than usual, a smile spreading across her face as she looked up at him.

Harry wrapped an arm around her waist, “we’ll go find Jeff first, okay? If you get uncomfortable just let me know. I know we’re gonna be a bit much but I don’t want to overstep boundaries.” It was whispered to her.

Y/N’s face softened, noticing his worry yet again. “It’s fine, really. I don’t mind.” Y/N spoke softly back to him, “I trust you.” She really did. Harry was always extremely respectful and she knew that he was asking because he wanted to make sure. Despite them being together for, what? four months now, and the fact that this was a normal occurrence, she was happy to know he respected her the way he did.

Harry felt relief when she said she trusted him because honestly, her opinion did mean a lot to him. Even if he didn’t want to let himself accept it— she was important to him already. He wanted her to feel safe with him, always.

“That’s good.” He smiled down at her. Y/N looked so good and he was going to have a good time playing it up tonight. Especially because he was going to be able to drink and say whatever because it was ‘acting’ to Y/N and she didn’t know he meant probably everything she was going to hear. He escorted her to the bar, settling behind her as he wrapped one arm around her waist and the other rested on her tummy. She has this little tummy that Harry found incredibly enticing. He wasn’t sure why but he loved it. Always wanted to touch and kiss on it when he thought more and more of it.

“What do you want to drink, baby?” Harry spoke against her ear as the music was. A little loud. But his lips were close to her ear, making it feel a little more intimate.

Baby. God he really was starting off strong. Y/N couldn’t say she didn’t feel a little insecure as he put his hand on her tummy, always being cautious of it whenever she was wearing tight clothes. She knew it was actually normal and most girls had one, but something about being Harry Styles’ girlfriend made her feel like she shouldn’t have one. At least that’s what the media made her feel like.

“Vodka cranberry, make it a double” She told him, giving him a little smirk. “I can handle alcohol.” Y/N teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek just because she wanted to. She couldn’t resist. Plus, she was playing it up for all the workers too. Her kiss left a mark on Harry’s cheek and Y/N giggled a bit, “it looks cute, but here...” she said and gently wiped it off his cheek so that it wouldn’t be viable in the photos they were most likely set to take. It was an event after all. She wasn’t sure what it was for but Jeff would let them know as soon as they found him.

Ordering the drinks, Harry took her hand and laced it with his, pulling her back against him and swayed them a little bit. She obviously was caught off guard but the giggle was confirmation that she was okay with it, him humming the song in her ear while the bartender made their drinks.

“My girl can handle the drinks? I’d like to see that.” He teased. “Probably can drink me under that table, yeah? And sound well sexy doing it.” Oop. Admission of her voice being ‘sexy’ when she spoke it was accidental but he wasn’t going to take it back. It was. But now she had far more ammo against him. Y/N was obviously planning on doing just that, her evil little smirk up at him making him pout. “Oi, don’t tease me with it.” Harry whined. “I’m being nice tonight. Don’t be mean to me.” Irony, a little, but mostly because he didn’t want to be hard yet.

If only Harry knew how long Y/N had been waiting to hear him say things like that to her. If she hadn’t thought about it a thousand times before she’d definitely been thinking about it a thousand times more. Her heart was swelling, feeling extremely giddy just doing all these things with Harry. They were just talking and swaying. Tonight was going to be a long night.

“Sexy hmm?” Y/N smirked, “are you being nice tonight?” She asked knowing full well that was false. Harry loved teasing, he teased his fans like crazy so surely he’d tease her even more. “You play nice and I’ll play nice. Is that a deal?” God, she wanted him to destroy her. That look in his eyes, she could already feel the tingles. When their drinks were ready Y/N said a small thank you to the bartender, taking her drink in her hand and looking at Harry with his. “Cheers, to playing nice.” She smiled at him, knowing that it was officially game on from here on out.

It was then Harry knew that they both were in for it, because he was going to give in to his wants of touching her and she was seemingly all for it which was equally as dangerous. Getting to be this way was going to make it so he would push past things he probably shouldn’t. He toasted with her, taking his drink and sipping all the while watching her over the glass. Y/N was a minx. A little flirty minx who was going to make him lose his mind. They had to go find Jeff, so he took her hand again and spun her so she was facing the right direction.

“Let’s go find the boss.”

They walked closely, Harry's arm back around Y/N’s waist as he held her to his body. She felt good pressed up against him. He loved it, if he was being honest. Wanted to feel her front pressed up against him so he could feel her tits. He needed a good feel by the end of the night. Needed it.

Y/N liked this. She liked this a lot. She swayed her hips a bit more now, wanting Harry to feel what they were capable of. It was like she had this new power in her that she didn’t have before, all because of Harry. The whole acting thing was definitely helping as well, she could just play this character and exaggerated version of herself and get away with it. Harry seemed to be loving it a little bit too much for his own liking, she could sense it.

Jeff and Glenne were stood over in the vip section, chatting with a few other celebrity guests. Y/N forgot that that was also a thing. In her mind Harry wasn’t a celebrity, he had never been. He was just her idol that was hard to reach, the concept of him being a celebrity himself always weirder her out. Like whenever other people mentioned him she always forgot that they knew who he was. All eyes were on them. Literally everyone. Y/N kept herself calm and confident, acting as if she wasn’t phased by it at all though she was internally freaking out.

“Hi!” Y/N smiled as she gave Jeff and Glenne a hug, “you guys look great!” The gang was together again.

“About time you showed up!” Jeff punched Harry lightly in the arm. He could sense something was changing. Harry held on a bit tighter to her, and wasn’t consciously doing it.

“Oi, watch it. We just got some drinks. You know, little thing has Russian blood. Isn’t that right, Kiska?” Harry had googled a pet name’s in Russian and she was definitely a kitten, kiska, if you will. Coy and sly and utterly adorable, a little clumsy all in one. Pure and evil all the same. He could tell the Russian name caught her off guard. Oh, he was going to pay for that. She returned to his arms, and he decided to sit her on the bar stool and stand between her legs. For right now, this was good. He’d have a hand on her and look intimate while they talked.

Y/N looked at him with a shocked expression, raising her brow and giving him a look which said he would pay for that. He went home and looked it up, just to play with her emotions? Of course he did. The bastard. She took another sip of her drink and rolled her eyes, “Mister, just had to be fashionably late.” She told Jeff from her seat on the bar stool.

She was still quite tall in these shoes, probably the same height she would be if she was standing up. Harry felt more comfortable like this, clearly liking having power over her. They would see about that. “Хотел меня удивить?” Y/N spoke, setting her hand on his chest before picking up his cross necklace. “I said, you wanted to surprise me?” She smirked, looking him in the eyes. Two could play this game. The night just started and they were already pushing each other to the limit. They barely had any drinks in them but boy were they touchy feely. As a new couple should be. Y/N was positive that people were more shocked at the fact that Harry was showing any type of affection publicly. It was something he simply didn’t do.

It really wasn’t. Harry was the type to keep it private. But he liked being open and free with her. Even if it wasn’t ‘real’ as some would say— it sure as hell felt like it. He was thoroughly enjoying every bit, and it was translating well to people watching. He was positive that people were going to take photos, but he didn’t care. That was the point. Her leg catching over the back of his though, rubbing the back of his calf with her foot? She was giving it right back to him. And then the speaking in Russian, the one thing that really got him.

“Da, Kiska.” Yes, Kitten. Harry grinned, liking her way of playing back with him. The drink in his hand was gone, so he called for another one. He was going to drink and use that as an excuse even though he was sober at the moment. Yep.

Y/N was pulling all the stops, assuming that nothing would actually come of it but she couldn’t have been more wrong. The leg move was something she figured would give her the upper hand, clearly showing everyone that he was her territory. Maybe they were doing too much? But she didn’t really care, she only cared about what he thought.

“Осторожно.” Careful. She warned, knowing there was no translation needed. The tone and the word itself implied being careful, especially because he was playing with fire and he knew it. Y/N too had finished her drink, knowing Harry was about to go and get more. “Go, I’ll wait with Jeff.” She told him, wanting nothing more than to peck his lips in that moment but she couldn’t.

The look Jeff had on his face said it all, a laugh coming from him. He and Glenne were in the same position she and Harry were just in, but they were a bit less.... horny. Y/N blushed, shaking her head a little because she knew they were coming off strong but she wasn’t acting. She never was acting with him.

Harry grumbled as she sent him off to get drinks. He was having fun with her. They worked very well with their chemistry and he felt utterly enamored with her. After a few drinks it was going to get worse. Would he basically dry fuck her against the bar? Perhaps. He felt like he could right now if given the go ahead. He got her a double shot and made his the same as well, going back to the table. They were all laughing about something and she hadn’t paid him much attention, taking the glass and spreading her legs a bit again so he could stand there. Honestly! A good response for when he came over.

“I got you the same.” He spoke to her, voice a bit darker. “There are some people with their cells out taking photos too. I figured you knew though.” She was so good, learning to catch on quite easily. They could both feel cameras on them. Surely they’d make a pretty penny selling them or something. But after he finished that drink, he felt a slight buzz kick in. That made him more comfortable, holding on her waist and listening to her conversation. Wanting some of the attention back.

Y/N decided she’d play the game a bit more, making him work a bit to get the attention that she had been so good at giving him. Now that she knew her strengths she would play on them, forcing Harry to push harder than he was. She wanted to know what he wanted from her. The cool feeling of the glass between her legs and Harry’s looming figure sent a shock straight to her crotch, the slightly annoyed look in his eye making her smile smugly.

“Thank you, ziya.” She cooed, knowing if he had searched for Russian pet names he would have found ‘bunny’ too. “Are saying you want to give them a show then?” Y/N teased as she wrapped her lips around the straw of his drink and took a sip. It wasn’t meant to be as sexual as it ended up being, she kept eye contact but cut it short because they really were being a bit too wild.

The headlines would say, ‘Harry’s horny?’

Harry absolutely wanted to give them a show. Only the show he was thinking of was pulling her panties to the side and sliding into her cunt, taking her hard up against the bar. And he didn’t think that was quite what Jeff had meant by giving more affection.

“Come.” He stood them up and brought them over to a plush couch without saying anything to Jeff. He knew Harry wanted Y/N alone right now, and he didn’t need to ask. Plus, it would help if they were seen all on their own together. Only he sat with her next to him, quite close. His arm wrapped around her and he basically curled around her form, the hand holding his drink putting it down after he downed it again. Ignoring the burning in his throat, he took his cool hands and brushed them against her neck. The touch seemed to affect her, a sharp breath coming from her. “You’re playing games.” He mumbled, using his fingers to tuck the hair from her neck. “Naughty.”

“And you aren’t?” Y/N asked boldly, finding his eyes as they snapped up to look at her. If there was such a thing as eye fucking they were definitely doing it in that moment. They couldn’t be sat here for too long, no, they definitely needed to go dance or mingle or do something that wasn't in each other's space like this. But it was so hot. He was so close to her, his touch, his words. It was all proving to be too much. The Harry she had always imagined was coming out, fulfilling a lot of her fantasies that he didn’t even know she had. This was something she sat thinking about in her bedroom, sitting there rubbing her clit to the idea of Harry being a tease in public.

“Didn’t say I wasn’t, baby.” Harry shrugged. He was definitely playing and teasing. He needed to get her to it for a second so he had an excuse to get close enough to leave a mark. It was closer than he had gotten pulling her closer in the chair. Her neck was so deliciously bare. And he was feeling possessive right now with the way or her men saw her. She was beautiful and a little naive towards the way other men had been ogling her tonight. “Was gonna suggest ...a mark.” He proposed. “Righhhhht here.” He ran his finger over the exposed flesh that would show his mark if she let him. “I think you’d like that.” He was pretty sure the easiest way to do it would be on the dance floor. “Can let people see you’ve been marked. Just gotta get up and go dance for a little bit. It’ll feel nice.” He was driving her absolutely mad and he knew it too. The way he spoke to her and the way he was touching her, it felt far more intimate than anything else she’d ever felt. This couldn’t be fake, she wouldn’t believe what he said if he tried to deny it. It wasn’t the alcohol either.

“I think I’d like that too..” Y/N responded, feeling her voice go a little quite towards the end. It would feel nice, having his lips on her neck and marking her as his. The way he was asking for permission though she had already given him free reign to do whatever he wanted. It was all a bit much. “Come on.” She said, getting up and downing her drink before taking his hand and guiding him towards the dance floor. The dance floor was quite busy, now a good few hours into the event. They had arrived a bit late anyway so the party was in full swing. Y/N was quite a good dancer and she knew that.

Harry wasn’t a bad dancer. Not necessarily skilled though, so he had a feeling Y/N would be doing the talking if they had to truly dance. At the moment though, it seemed as everyone was doing their own things, which felt good. He stayed towards the edge of the dance floor though, taking her hand and pulling her into him. His hand was on her waist and she looked up at him with those eyes he’d been dreaming of and he felt like a crazy person for not having had her already. She was the ideal person to have sex with, he thinks. The perfect mix of dirty and innocent and he hadn’t even found out how bad she could be. He had a feeling he would be finding out rather soon.

“Come.” He pulled her to be pressed against his body, one hand on her and the other holding her own. “You’re going to kill me, sweetness.” He muttered quietly. “Swear to god. You’ve been so naughty. And you know it.”

Y/N squeaked a bit as he pulled her against him, relaxing into his touch after a few seconds. It still made her dizzy. The whole being a fan thing didn’t help, it really didn’t help. She was already into him and now he was just playing it up and she felt like she would pass out. She moved her hips to the beat, grinding on him without hesitation. What? If they were dancing, they were dancing like everyone else was.

“I’ve only been as naughty as you.” She said as a matter of factly, “but you like that, don’t you?” The alcohol started to work in her system convincing her to just say what was on her mind. Four shots of vodka all hitting her system at once definitely did the trick. There was nothing more she wanted to do than kiss him. She just wanted to sit him down and make out with him. Straddle his hips, grab his hair and just kiss him. They’d been ‘dating’ for four months and no one had seen them publicly kiss yet, but Y/N decided she’d make it her mission for him to kiss her tonight. If not now then never.

“I can’t say I mind.” Harry breathed. God, Y/N was grinding on him. She knew how to move and she was going to get him all worked up. Whatever photos anyone took would potentially be very sexually charged because his hand did drop lower, holding her hip a bit tighter. Her grinding slowed a bit and he wanted to groan. Y/N looked very happy. Very pleased to be making him feel like this. There was no way that she’d give up now. It seemed to be her goal to push his buttons. “I’m just trying to figure out just how naughty you are.” He had his face closer, mouth approaching her ear. “Because I can tell what you’re doing. And I’ll let you know, it’ll work. You’ll get what you want from me. You’re pushing me just hard enough.”

Everything about their interaction screamed sexual tension. The rubber band would snap soon and Y/N wasn’t sure how she felt about it yet. She felt high on the feeling, knowing that all she needed was a little push and she’d cave. Self control was important right now because as much as they were enjoying this moment, they were technically working.

“Mmm keep trying then.” She whispered in his ear, lips brushing against his lobe ever so slightly. Y/N wanted to move lower and kiss at his neck, but she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from doing more. Harry seemed to be on board and that was something that she would run with. “What do you think I’m doing?” Y/N asked, genuinely pushing every button that she could just for the sake of it. Maybe he’d actually do something. It was his image after all, if there was anything he wanted to do or didn’t want to do, she wanted to make sure that it was his decision. She didn’t want to over step.

“To get me to break.” Harry muttered. This time, he pressed a kiss under her ear. Here it goes. He knew that there was no going back now. Now when Y/N was rubbing up on him and he had her where he wanted her. “You want me to touch. And you’re getting that.” Harry gave another kiss a spot lower. “And I’m going to give you a mark on your neck. People are going to see it, yeah? See photos of me making it. And you know it’ll feel really good.” His mouth was rubbing against her skin with every word, getting lower so he could find the spot. “Trying to push me. Being a naughty girl and getting me to do things I shouldn’t.” Like, fucking her raw and senseless. Harry was coming in short when it came to thread holding his resistance. Y/N may know that now. However he had found the spot he wanted to mark— so he began to kiss on it, nipping at the skin. She absolutely melted into him, the sweet little gasp making his cock twitch in interest.

Y/N closed her eyes the second his teeth touched her neck. It was going to be hard to dance as if this had happened before, as if this wasn’t the first time they were interacting in a sexual way. People knew Harry was a horny bastard, talking about how his new album was about sex and being sad. They’d assume he already fucked her. She wishes that was true.

“But it’s not my fault, is it?” Y/N nearly moaned, “you want it as badly as I do.” She added, feeling her breath hitch as he began to kiss and nip at the sensitive part of her neck. “Trust me, you haven’t seen me act naughty.” Y/N confirmed, a gasp following her statement. Y/N couldn’t take this. He was doing things to her that she never thought were possible, endorphins flooding her body and making her feel like she was floating. She had melted into him completely, still dancing with him because she couldn’t just not move. “Fuck that feels good..” She whispered in his ear, a small moan escaping just for him to hear.

Harry’s arm held her tighter, keeping her up in a good position as he continued his assault on her perfect neck. “What if I want to see that?” He asked. His fatal mistake because he knew far too well that Y/N would show him. She would do as he asked and kill him. That was the scary thing and he wanted it. He didn’t give her time to answer though, beginning to suck on her neck. It was light at first, but continued on. Getting a bit harder. The music covered it, but he heard a whimper come from her as he sucked over the sensitive skin and scraped over it lightly with his teeth. It felt too quick. He had given her one and didn’t want to make it truly hurt, so he moved to right under her ear and began to nip at it. “Mm. Maybe two. I think that’s a better idea.” He confirmed with her, feeling her nod hurriedly. His hands had her hips and pulled her up against him, and he knew that Y/N was feeling just as good about it as he was. “Shh, baby. Gonna make them think I have my hand under your dress.”

He gave Y/N the answer she had been waiting for. He had wanted to see her naughty side, wanted to see her unravel completely for him and show him just how bratty she could be. Y/N was sure he wanted it, but it wouldn’t be appropriate to do that here. Not when everyone was watching. He knew that as well. Y/N really has been deprived of touch and affection, simple love bites were practically making her fly off the rocker. Maybe it was because Harry was the one giving them to her, but she really needed him to stop or she would lose it.

“If you don’t stop i’ll have to take you up on that offer.” Y/N told him, a whimper still present in her voice. She moved a hand up to his hair, tugging at it hard enough to get him to pull off her neck. “You have to stop, I’ll lose it..” She told him genuinely. It was a bit embarrassing to say, but she’d rather not make a fool of herself in public from a few hickeys.

Ha. Harry had won this round. Driving her crazy. The way she had said it though... saying she had wanted his hand under her dress... he was tempted.

“M’sorry, Kiska.” He promised, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t sorry at all. He was thriving off of this energy and was dying to at least get his mouth on her. “If I could get away with my hand under your dress.. it would be there.” He could tell she wanted it too. The whimper of disappointment she let out. God, he wanted to destroy her. “What would you have done if I kept going?” They continue to dance, Harry's lips a bit damp with his own spit from kissing over and sucking on her neck. Their dancing had an even rhythm now, but he wanted to know what she thinks would have happened if he had continued on. Y/N was flushed and the marks were beginning to get darker. “What about it makes you crazy? Did you like the little bit of pain? How it’s a little tender? I want to know what you’re thinking.” He lifted a hand and ran his thumb over one of the marks and smirked when she jolted but her eyes were darker.

Y/N knew she had lost but she didn’t care, she really couldn’t take it. Her body was practically shaking with desire, never having been so turned on in her life. Y/N felt her like her body was on fire. Sure, their dancing was sexually charged and the neck kissing was as well, but to an outsider that’s all it was. They didn’t know what was actually happening.

“I—I wouldn’t have been able to keep it a secret.” Y/N told him, “it’d be too obvious, we’d have to leave.” That was true. Her knees would have buckled and she would have forced him to take them home. It wasn’t acting, they both knew that now. Would they speak on it again? No. “The pain.” She told him hesitantly, “I like the pain and the thrill of people watching.” There it was, the first little insight on how naughty she really was. He had asked to know after all. “It’s been a while— it’s a lot.” Y/N added wanting him to know that she really had been deprived of all the good things. “I think we need another drink.”

Harry was living for it. He truly was. Y/N was flustered and he was hot and bothered and now had 2 different marks on her neck. This was exactly the situation he originally had been trying to avoid but now was actively pursuing.

“Two double shots.” When they’d got to the bar again, he had his hands on her. It was like he couldn’t let go. Standing behind her, he nuzzled his face into the side of her neck and kissed both of the marks before smirking and hiding again. He was being a tease and going to drive Y/N mad and he knew it but in all honesty, it was fun. Like a game. “Just don’t speak Russian. Cause then I’ll be forced to do things that aren’t very public appropriate and there’s tons of cameras everywhere.”

Hopefully the drink would cool Y/N down, her head was spinning and Harry wasn’t helping one bit. Her breath hitched a little as he pressed kisses to the marks. “Dick.” She muttered, lifting her hand up to play with his hair. She scratched his scalp a little bit as he hid into her neck, humming softly to herself. “Maybe I should and not let you touch me.” Y/N teased, “Maybe you’ll play nice then.” Of course she wasn’t going to let that happen. She loved his touch far too much though she also loved the idea of teasing him and getting her revenge. She was still shook up from their little stunt earlier and wasn’t sure if she could handle anymore teasing. Especially if they went home and didn’t do anything. “Cause you can’t keep working me up like this and not fuck me sore.” Y/N whispered in his ear, being completely serious. If he kept this up and they went home and he did nothing she’d be extremely moody and pissy.

Harry was a little surprised with her crassness. Truly, he hadn’t expected her to come out and say it. That she wanted to be fucked hard. But god, he could do it. He could very well run in to her and just bend her over any surface and take her. Their chemistry was off the charts and he had a feeling other people could see it. He knew too well that it was wrong of him. But his body didn’t care.

“Is that what you want?” He questioned, eyes blown with lust. She was giving him such a time. “Wow.. you seem so innocent, but you’re here talking about being fucked sore. Have you ever been properly fucked, Kiska?” His voice dropped to a growl, moving them closer to the bar. To any onlooker, it just looked like he was hiding his face against her but he was really giving his little fake lover a run for her money. “Been pounded away until you can’t breathe? Because you seem so sweet. But I can see now that you’re a dirty little girl and you’re a tease. Isn’t quite fair to me.” He scolded, his hand slipping to her thigh for a moment before he rested his chin on her shoulder and sent a charming smile to the bartender.

Y/N bit her lip, wanting so desperately to moan at how dirty and rough his voice sounded. “Yes, it’s what I want...” She told him honestly, deciding if she was going to spill any night it could be tonight where she could pretend she was more drunk than she was. She wasn’t anywhere near drunk right now though. The second he asked if she’d ever been properly fucked is when she lost it, knowing she needed him desperately and needed him now. But they had to be here until Jeff told them they could leave. “I haven’t, I’ve been so deprived.” She whimpered into his ear, “could you help me, daddy?” It was a stab in the dark seeing if he liked being called daddy, but she had seen a video of him on tour saying ‘yes daddy I will’ which proved to her that he may in fact enjoy being called daddy. But who really knew? She was about to find out.

Oh god. Oh god damn it. Harry was going to die. He was sure of it. She had tapped into one of his kinks that he was sure probably wasn’t a secret but... fuck. Y/N had sounded so pretty with her whimpers and then asking him to help her? That she hadn’t been fucked right?

“Fuck.” Harry groaned against her skin. “I want to. Shit, baby. You’re dirty, I love it.” He pressed himself against her ass and let her feel his cock that was getting harder at her teasing. And the little minx pressed back against it. He couldn’t touch her here, but he could tease and talk to her with his cock against her ass and work her up. He pulled her closer and swayed them slightly, giving himself a bit of friction. “You wore this to tease me.” Harry's voice was deep, a little raspy. “Wore it to drive me crazy and you knew it would.”

Ha. Y/N won this round. Noticing how he was slowly starting to crack, slowly giving into her teasing and her pleading. The feeling of his semi hard cock rubbing against her was also a confirmation that she was doing something right, smirking to herself as she pushed back against him a little bit.

“Of course I did.” She hummed, “thought it's about time I gave you no option but to give in. Those tops I wear didn’t quite do the trick, but this....” Y/N was very confident now that she knew it was working, needy, but confident. She just knew how to play up on the whiney neediness and the sexy neediness at the right times. Harry was lapping it up too. They both knew they’d go to his and have mind blowing sex, four months of pent up frustration sex. It was just a matter of when they would do so. Jeff really was the one who was going to give the go ahead and well, Harry was most likely going to keep teasing the both of them.

“Calculated little thing. Know how to get your way, hm.” Y/N was proving to be a force to be reckoned with. And Harry couldn’t even be upset over it because he was bringing this upon himself. He truly was. This woman was giving him a run for his damn money. “You said you liked the thrill of people watching, baby?” He asked. “S’it getting you off? All these people around and you’ve got my cock up against this gorgeous ass? And getting all wet inside those panties?” He knew she had to be soaked. “You’re probably so wet. A little bit sticky too, hm? Gonna start getting on your thighs. Wouldn’t be surprised now if you liked that. Liked getting all worked up and having no one know what I’m telling you.”

Y/N rubbed back against him anytime she felt like she wanted to moan, gripping at his arm that was around her waist. God she could kill him but she wasn’t going to let him get the best of her, she could control herself for a little while longer. If it was promising enough.

“You have no idea.” She simply responded, knowing it answered all of the above. Yes, it did thrill her, it did get her off, it was getting her wet inside her panties and he had no idea just how much. If he really wanted to, he could have a feel, she was sure if he peeled off her underwear there would even be a trail of wetness that pulled with it like a strand of spit. Yes, she was that fucking wet. “You better fuck me real good tonight, daddy... Я с ума сойду у..” She whispered in his ear, adding the ‘or I’ll lose my mind’ in Russian just for added effect. That should do the trick.

“Fuck..” Harry pressed her up against the bar. it was crowded enough that he could sneak a hand between her thighs, and as soon as he got under the dress he could feel the soaked and sticky panties. “My fucking god... you’re really soaked through.” He hissed, kissing her cheek a few times and smiled down at her. Harry pressed his fingers harder against her and his arm around her waist tightened, her knees weakening in his hold. Finding her clit, he pressed and rubbed a few times, sighing in pleasure when her hips bucked a little bit. Luckily there were people behind them talking, and no one was paying attention. His head was hidden and it was hard to tell who ended and who began. “Soaked little princess. Poor pussy... needs some attention.” He purred, nuzzling his nose against her cheek. “I shouldn’t be touching you at all, Kiska. Not at all. But you’ve been teasing me, and talking to me in that sexy little voice, you’re killing me.”

Y/N swore she stopped breathing, heart skipped a beat. Harry Styles was touching her fucking pussy. How on earth did she end up here? Y/N almost lost it, nearly moaned out loud with the poor bartender standing right there. Y/N sipped on her drink, using it to stifle the moans and whimpers that were threatening to escape. Her knees buckled, losing balance as his fingers started working on her clit through her panties. She sighed in pleasure, playing it off as if she was just sighing but really she was dying. ��Please...” She begged, biting down on her lip, “you’re killing me.” If he was going to keep doing this she would full on cum in public and she wasn’t exactly ready for that. She wasn’t sure if she could hide that, holy fuck it was already overwhelming. She wished they were alone. “Funny.... you touched my clit before kissing me.”

“Mm. I know that once I start m’not gonna stop.” And that was the truth. The man knew that he would get one taste of her cherry mouth? He would want to sip on it for a while. And plus... it was less obvious. But he took his fingers away, bringing them to his mouth and sucking the slick arousal off. It was sweet. Beautiful. The best he had ever tasted— and Harry did like to eat pussy, so that was saying a lot.

“What’s stopping you? It will feel good.” Y/N repeated his words from earlier in the night, hoping he’d listen. She thought she’d pass out just then, a shiver ran down her spine at the sight of him sucking her wetness of his fingers. The man really wanted to end her didn’t he? The look of pure enjoyment on his face, it should be illegal.

“So good. But... turn.” He instructed, cupping the side of her face with the clean hand. “You’re being very good now. So..” Harry murmured, leaning down and connecting their lips. And he swore, he completely lost his mind. It was like that instant connection just made sense. Being like this with her, the kiss, it had him feeling. Truly. He was incredibly shocked but he continued the kiss. It wasn’t too dirty— it was relatively soft considering he was just rubbing her cunt moments ago. But it was delicious.

Good god. Y/N’d never felt this before. A true surge of electricity bolted through her, the kiss passionate but not too off putting. It was just a kiss two people that really liked each other would share. Y/N knew people were taking photos, it was as if she could feel people’s eyes on them. The gasps from around them also sort of helped. She just let one of her hands wrap around his wrist while the other gripped onto the lapel of his jacket. She could get lost doing this all day. Y/N hoped they would get to do this freely from now on, she wasn’t sure she could ever go without kissing him again.

Harry couldn’t care less about the people taking photos. His hands held her soft little face and their lips pulled apart only for him to go back— this time for tiny little pecks to make her giggle. It was cute. He wanted her to feel that way when he kissed her.

Y/N did giggle at the pecks that he left on her lips, scrunching her nose a little bit because she just couldn’t believe that she was in fact kissing Harry Styles. This was truly a dream come true, unfortunately she’d sound like a nutter if she told him that.

“S’good.” Harry said when he pulled apart for real, placing one last kiss to her forehead. “Want to leave, Kiska?” Harry wanted to get her alone. Get her in his damn lap. The moment the car pulled away from the club he would have his hand back up her dress. He was positive Y/N knew the same. He needed to get inside of her. Have this one night. Maybe it would get his need for her out of his system. Sure— he didn’t think so, but he was hoping so that his heart wouldn’t be in danger. He didn’t realize his heart was already right in the palm of her hand and she had the power to crush it into powder.

“Can we?” Y/N asked softly, eyes wide and soft. Ready to submit and she knew that he knew. Y/N wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him for a moment before finishing her drink and walking with him towards where Jeff was to bid him and Glenne a good night. They probably would get scolded on a normal night, but they had made quite the show. They did more than enough, too enamored with each other to even think to speak to anyone else. Jeff knew that they were both very much into each other and laughed because they were both in denial. Y/N less so.

“Gonna have a lot of cameras outside. Just be a good girl for me, yeah? Gotta behave until we pull away.” Harry spoke to her as he helped her with her jacket, moving her hair out of the way. It was dumb to be so proud of a mark on her neck, but he had been aware of how guys looked at her. Aware that she wasn’t. And then people would know, they’d be so aware that Y/N was his pretty girl. Confirm that relationship. Opening the door, he had a tight grip on her waist as he led her out of the club. The questions were yelled out but he focused on getting her to the car. It took a minute, but he opened the back of the door and picked her up with her up by the waist once again. She moved over, and Harry got in behind her.

“My place, please.” He called to the driver before shutting the partition. Once it was closed, and they began to drive away? Harry turned right back to her. “You... make me lose control.” He growled, pulling her into his lap. Her hips were bigger and there was that tiny little belly that he liked, but his hands gravitated towards her ass. Gripping it tightly with one hand, the other came up to her throat. Her gasp had him twitching in his pants. Y/N seemed to love it.

Y/N squeaked as he pulled her into his lap, her dress riding up significantly. She set her hands on his shoulders to stabilize herself, moving them down to his chest once she felt comfortable. The hand on her throat though, that was the best surprise of the night.

“Mmm.” She whimpered, looking down at him with a smile. Y/N was a kinky bitch. No man had ever really understood that. She was never able to play up her sexuality in bed, never able to truly let loose and do whatever she wanted because the guys never knew how to properly dominate her. But Harry knew, she knew he would. “That’s a good thing.” She teased, “need to loosen up, rockstar.”

Harry was happy. She was taking to it easily, and that only added to his arousal. Y/N was what he wanted in bed. Seemingly submissive but a little bit of a brat. So far she had been lippy but he loved it.

“Do I?” He murmured. “I can think of a few ways to help me relax.” His mouth moves forward to her chest, kissing the swells of her tits. “These... these fucking tits.” It was a hiss, licking over between them before he switched to the other side. “You know how much I love them.” He needed to have a good taste. It was necessary. “And you’ve got them up on display, wanting for me to touch them, hm?” He questioned. “Do you know how many times I’ve been thinking about them covered in cum? Hm?”

“You like them, don’t you daddy?” Y/N cooed, watching as he went to kiss at her soft pillowy breasts. “Had them out just for you...” She added because she really did. No one else mattered right now. But, he’d.... thought about her tits? His cum on her tits? Multiple times? She must be dreaming. Sure, she’s been masturbating to the thought of him since she was 13, but to think he was jerking off to the thought of her? It made her moan out loud. “It’d look so pretty.”

“You... are absolutely sinful.” Harry’s mouth closed in near her covered nipple, and looked up at her. “Mmm. Had them out for me? What a great, sweet girl.” Harry's head was going into overdrive because he wanted to be touching any inch he could of her. Wanted to touch and lick her body over and over again and drive his cock in deep. “Said that you’ve never been fucked properly before... s’so sad, baby. Isn’t it? Need to have a good cock inside of you. Do you like it rough?” He questioned, looking up at her honey eyes. “Like it hard? Or do you want it soft?” He wanted to make it good for both of them, so he asked the question even though he was fairly certain of the answer.

“Only for you...” She told him, knowing she had never been this sinful in her life. Only in her mind in the fantasies that he lived in. Y/N let out a moan, nodding her head at his question. “N—no never...” She answered honestly, thinking about how she liked it. She liked it rough but liked it soft as well, figuring that whatever it was Harry decided to do she’d love it because it was Harry and his glorious cock that she felt bulking up against her crotch.

Y/N loved how vocal he was, how he talked to her through every little action. It’s almost as if he wanted her to fumble as he pleasured her. Y/N didn’t mind though, she thought she sounded quite hot when she was being pleasured. Her previous encounters loved phone sex with her. Her hand went to the back of his head, tugging at his hair like she knew he liked as his plump strawberry lips wrapped around her nipple. He looked so fucking pretty like that.

“I like it rough mostly, but some soft bits are nice... mix it up.” She told him, “just use me... I like it deep. I want to feel you in my belly.”

His sweet girl. This innocent thing was asking Harry to use her. She was dirty in ways that he knew a lot of other people weren’t. Sure, they talked a good game but when it came down to it, they couldn’t take it. But Y/N? She was sitting in his lap with his hand on her throat and ass and asked him to use her. That, was exactly what she wanted. He could tell by her face. That was the hottest thing. She wanted to be his baby, but his baby slut. He loved it. Y/N was surprising him at every turn. Sure, he had expected a little kinky from how she had been acting but... she turned around and used daddy, had let him play with her cunt under a bar, all of it and that was hot.

“Deep in that precious belly, hm? Bury myself in your little cunt and make you take it, s’that it, my girl?” Harry kept calling her his. Because in the back of his mind, she was. Y/N had been his since that first day, even though he would keep denying it.

“Yes, please, daddy...” Y/N nodded in response, truly looking so bloody happy to be in this position. They’d be at his soon and she would get her relief soon enough. She felt like she had proven herself to be a good girl and that he wouldn’t tease her as much when they got inside. “Told you I was naughty...” Y/N reminded him, “but it’s just the way you like it.” She smirked and moved her hips forward to add a little pressure to his cock. “And I guarantee I’m the naughtiest you’ll ever have.” It was a bold statement but she was positive it was true. All she wanted was for him to be pleased.

Y/N felt the car come to a stop and was slightly upset that their little car journey was over, but even more excited to get inside and see what exactly he had planned for the two of them. Y/N loved how dominant Harry had proven to be, thoroughly enjoying pleasuring her as well as himself. She was positive she’d never feel this amazing in her life.

Harry was looking forward to seeing Y/N to ruin him. He wanted to make her feel good but he had a feeling that he wasn’t going to be able to get this out of his head every time he saw her.

Grabbing her little bag, he tipped the driver handsomely before scrambling into the house. He needed this and wanted it and didn’t want to waste a single damn second. Y/N was eager too, Harry snickering as she basically tugged him up to his front door. They couldn’t do anything out here— but as soon as he got inside?

He slammed the door shut and pressed her against it, mouth on hers yet again again. Harry found that it was one of his new favorite places. The taste and the warm feeling... he loved it so much. Her tongue ran across his lips and into his mouth and he was hooked. Shoving their jackets off, he grabbed hold of her and lifted her with ease, legs wrapping around his waist.

“Gonna wreck you, baby. Make you cum so hard that you can’t fucking breathe.” He hadn’t tried overstimulation before but he just as well may with her. She overwhelmed him quite a bit.

Y/N groaned against his mouth, eagerly moving to push his jacket off of him just as he pushed hers off. Her arms immediately wrapped around his shoulders as he lifted her, the kiss only becoming that much more intense when his hands landed on her ass. She swore it was one of her favorite feelings.

“Ugh, yes, daddy PLEASE!” She moaned out, desperate to get this dress off and to get him naked as well. Y/N only had a small thong underneath, having forgone a bra for the sake of the dress. It was tight enough that it kept them in place. Her dream was coming to life and she would make damn sure to make the best of it. Y/N’s moved to kiss from the corner of his mouth to his jawline, finding a soft spot right below his jawline on his neck. She decided to return the favor from earlier, living a hickey of her own there. Hopefully he didn’t mind. “Can’t wait for you to fill me..” she whispered in his ear. “Я хочу тебя.” A simple, I want you in Russian just to get him going. “I want you so bad..”

It was the Russian that had Harry’s blood hot. He wanted to hear her speak it all the time. What if they had kids? She could teach them— Wait.

Fuck. That was a weird fucking thought and he had to shake himself out of it. There wouldn’t be kids. The hell was wrong with him? It had to be the power of her pussy— but he hadn’t even been inside yet.

“Gotta get you naked.” Harry needed her naked and wet and ready for him. That was the goal, anyways. To have this girl spread out and eager to be taking his cock. Y/N was telling him that she couldn’t wait so he held her to him, walking towards his room. They wouldn’t be leaving that bed, unless it was to fuck against a wall or in the bathroom. His shoes were kicked off as he stepped in, nearly blind because they were kissing again and Y/Ns hands were all over his hair, it was amazing. Truly. His cock ached and was begging to be inside of her but every second of this was incredible to him.

Once Harry placed her on the bed Y/N sat up, unzipping her dress and lifting it up above her head quickly, but careful as to not rip it. She really liked that dress. It was at this point that Y/N was eye level with his cock, allowing her hands to travel to the loops in his pants, pulling him closer to her.

“Fuck me...” She mumbled, one of her hands palming over his aching cock. She unzipped them and pulled ever so slightly until they pooled at his ankles, eyes still very much focused on his cock. Y/N looked up at him, a devilish look in her eyes as she wanted for some direction. She admittedly got distracted but it was because this was the cock she had been dreaming about, the cock she imagined filling her mouth and her cunt and even her ass. “You’re so big daddy, so handsome...” She commented, pressing a kiss to his clothes cock and smiling to herself. She was pushing buttons.

There was something so incredibly hot to Harry about her sitting on his bed, eye level with his cock. She had just instinctually gone to it, kissing on it... that was the hottest thing. Being so genuinely into him and wanting to touch. There had been many a time now these past few months and he had thought about this view. However now he was in full view of her tits and her messy hair, her looking up with those eyes at him. He was a mess.

“Yeah? Thank you, baby.” He murmured. “Why don’t you take it out, hm... suck a little bit. And then I want to have my turn.” He was thirsting for her cunt. Literally. He just wanted to kiss and suck and lick her sweet pussy until she came over and over again. He wanted her to feel how good it was to have her cunt properly worshipped. Y/N was a good girl, but she was so bad. He had a feeling she would utterly love that.

Y/N smiled as he gave her the go ahead, tugging on his shirt and muttering a small “off” because she wanted to see his perfectly toned torso and chest. Harry was really her version of a perfect man, everything about him made her crazy and she couldn’t stop herself. Not now, not anymore. This was raw and real. Y/N gently pulled his cock out from his boxer briefs, pushing them down all the way while she leaned in and spat all over his cock. Y/N locked her eyes with his, letting the spit travel down his cock while she went to lick from the base to the top. She let her hand spread the sloppy mess that she made, pumping at the base while her lips wrapped around the lip and began sucking.

The amount of times she had thought about this, the amount of times he imagined hearing him moan for her and pull her hair. Just feeling the weight of his cock on her tongue, it was everything she desired. Y/N took more of him into her mouth once she felt comfortable, moaning against him a bit because she knew it would feel good.

Holy shit. Harry had expected her to be eager, a little dirty— but she may be right. It’s probably that Y/N was going to be the dirtiest girl he’s ever been with. It was evident by how she spit on his cock, looking right up at him as she made a mess. Something Harry fucking loved. Other partners didn’t love a mess but he did. In his opinion, it was hotter. More passionate. A good spit or cum all over was good. Arousing. And Y/N was on her knees, licking over his cock and pumping her hand at the bottom. Harry was big, but Y/N took it like a fucking champion. His hand gathered her hair in his fist. Gently yanking on it to show he had control before allowing her to continue. And then she began to moan with his cock in her mouth, bobbing her head up and down— it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

“God, yes. Keep sucking my cock like that— fucccck. That’s a girl.” He praised, watching her closely. “Messy little girl. You like it messy, huh? Like getting daddy’s cock all wet? Good job. Doing just what I asked.”

Y/N was determined and dedicated to making him feel good, making it very clear with the way she was working her mouth over his cock like he was a lollipop of sorts. She hummed in response, not wanting to pull off because he seemed to really like what she was doing. Y/N kept eye contact as she tried to take more and more of him into her mouth, giving him full control over her with his hand in her hair. She did say she wanted him to use her so it really was free reign. They had all night to play around with each other, but she could already tell she had left a damp spot on his bed with how increasingly wet she was getting from watching him. The way his face contorted in pleasure, his gritty voice. She was thoroughly enjoying every second and she wouldn’t stop unless he told her to.

Harry was in love with her mouth. He wanted it around him 24/7. Harry was also an incredibly sexual person with a filthy, kinky mind. “Can imagine you warming my cock just like this while I take some calls. Would be very nice, wouldn’t it, Y/N?” He grabbed her hair tighter and began to pump in and out of her mouth. When he first met her he hadn’t ever imagined actually being able to fuck her mouth. But the girl gave over control, looking up with watery eyes as he took over. She could handle a little deeper. So he did just that, hissing when her throat tightened a bit around his Fock before pulling out. She sputtered but then— the slut whined. “Even after gagging on my cock, you’re still whining to have it back in your mouth? Fuck. You’re a cockslut, Baby. Can't believe this.” He gave it back and immediately had that suction again, her every suck in time with how he thrusted into the mouth. Every so often he would get just deep enough to make her gag and repeated the process, watching as she began to drool on him. “Shit— so messy. Such a messy little whore. Drool all over your chin and you’re still eager for my cock.” He was in awe. Y/N was something he had dreamed of and she only kept getting better.

Y/N felt smug. Harry was so shocked every time she whined for his cock and she wondered what I’m earth those other girls were doing. To Y/N, it wasn’t good sex unless she was fully letting go and doing everything her heart desired to and with her partner. Y/N pulled off of him hesitantly, licking up and down his cock as she caught her breath and then spoke.

“Can I make you cum like this daddy?” Her voice low and hoarse, “think you’ll be able to go again if I do?” She asked, just wanting to make sure though she was positive he would. Harry seemed like a kinky bastard and she wanted to make him cum as many times as she possibly could tonight. Her pussy was fucking aching. She was practically bouncing against the bed trying to get some friction. She whined a little bit, not wanting to full on ask because she was too busy servicing his cock, but she wanted it... bad.

“Yes— yeah, I can cum again for you.” Harry could. If it was Y/N? He knew that he’d be able to give her anything she wanted as long as she gave him those eyes and that little pout. He was so whipped already and he was positive that she was going to turn his life upside down. It was too late to stop it. “Go ahead. Make me cum, then.” He coaxed. “Want it in your mouth and on your tits. I know you can do that for me. You’ve been such a slutty girl, and you’ll like being covered in daddy’s cum.”

That seemed to set Y/N off. Her mouth was on his cock and sucking hard, hand going quickly over it. Harry’s mouth opened and a groan left him, overtaken with pleasure. It was no doubt he was going to cum quickly. It had been a while since he had fucked anyone and Y/N had some spell over him. He didn’t have to say much else, Y/N returned her mouth on to him and let her hand work the rest that she couldn’t reach. She remembered all the spots that set Harry off and paid close attention to them, sucking harder and moving at a quicker pace than before. Y/N moaned against him, as if begging him to cum for her. She wanted to taste him, wanted to see him in that wonderful state of bliss. She had already moved past thinking that she wasn’t attractive to him, clearly she was doing things to him and it boosted her ego far more than should be allowed. When she felt his muscles start to tighten she continued her actions, moaning against him and keeping at her actions waiting for him to blow his load. It was glorious. The sound that came from his mouth, the way he filled her mouth. She pulled off of him and let some drip down her chin, making him blow the rest of her load on her chest.

“That’s it daddy, cum all over me..”

Harry hadn't cum that hard in a long time. Maybe ever because his toes felt a little numb, his mouth open and his cock actually throbbing with the arousal. His load had to have been huge, considering he hadn’t cum like this in a long time. She let half of it in her mouth, and then opened it and let it drool down her chin— which was one of the hottest things he had ever seen. Her hand continued to work his cock as he covered her tits in ribbons of cum. There was nothing quite like the sight of her covered in it. Once he had calmed slightly, he lifted her up and tilted her head back, immediately going forward her mouth. Some guys refused to kiss their significant others when they’d gone down on them— but the messy state of her mouth had him beyond horny. Y/N responder with a mewl and Harry's hand went directly to her pussy.

“Down on the bed.” The mix of her spit and cum strung between both of their lips. “Spread your thighs. I want to lick you out.”

Y/N moaned against his mouth, eagerly moving back on to the bed. She had been waiting for him to touch her like this since the beginning of the night. She had a little taste of it at the bar but this? This was a whole other animal she swore she was absolutely not ready for. She was extremely sensitive to touch, it had been a really long time since anyone had slept with her and she truly forgot what it felt like. His warm ring clad hands on her caused goosebumps to spread all over her body, she was very much aroused. Harry nestled himself in between her legs, her heart pounding so hard she swore it would fly out of her chest. He hadn’t even done anything and she was already whimpering, pussy throbbing just from the sight. When you’ve been thinking about it for as long as she had, you would receive similar reactions. She convinced herself that she psychologically wired her brain to associate Harry with orgasms and that’s why it was affecting her like this.

Harry groaned. She had soaked through the thong. It was nearly see through, the pink tiny thing. He decided to lick right over it as a tease, and lottle Y/N jolted on the bed. He took hold of her by the apex of her thighs and held her down, swiping his tongue over the sticky fabric again.

“Hm.. what have we got?” He purred up at her. “A wet little pussy, huh?” He held her body to the bed, moving one arm now to stroke over her tummy. He moved up and kissed over her mound, over to her belly button and covered the surrounding areas with kisses. “Love this.” He had an attraction to it that he couldn’t quite explain. He just thrives off of seeing it. And now he would have to remember every single time to give it some love. But right now he needed some pussy, and that’s what he was going to get. He began to peel the panties off, growling in pleasure when he sat they were quite literally stuck to her. Fuck. He had done that, and he was proud of it. Her inner thighs were wet too, and Harry felt the heat of his body rise even more. “Christ, pet. You’re so wet...” He whispered. “Soaked through the panties... look at this. They’re stuck to you.” He said in awe. He gently peeled it back further, watching the arousal string on them. He was keeping these. “These are mine.” He took them and placed them on his night stand before taking a look. He didn’t waste much more time before leaning down, and taking one broad, long lick.

Y/N blushed, heat rushing to her face and chest as he observed her body. She was expecting to feel shy and embarrassed, but it was quite the opposite really. It was something she had always worried about, but the look in his eyes said it all. He was absolutely fucking perfect. A small giggle left her mouth at his astonishment, not realizing just how wet she actually was.

“Oh my god.” She moved her hands to cover her face, shaking her head before moving her hands so she could sit up a bit and lean on her elbows to watch him. She wasn’t sure how long that would last but she would try. The moan that left her was pornographic. Her whole body twitched at the feeling, pleasure spreading through her body already. She really was sensitive. “Harry..” She whimpered, looking down at him and seeing his darker green eyes flash up to look at her. “That feels... so good.”

Harry knew now that he was going to be obsessed with her pussy. Not only did it taste amazing but it felt so good on his tongue. Warm and soft, he didn’t mind the slick all over his chin as he ran his tongue up and down the little slit. Y/N was giving him everything.

“So sweet, princess. Taste so fucking good.” He was sure he was going to end up down here again tonight. He wanted it more than once and truly did have this affinity for her pussy. His tongue swiped up, running flat over her clit a few times. Swollen, he decided to rub his tongue around it in circles, which had her squeaking and moving her hips. To which he held her down again. He would decided when she could fuck his face.

Y/N tried closing her eyes thinking that maybe it would be less intense if she couldn’t see him but she was so so wrong. Her senses heightened and she swore she could feel every single cell in her body vibrate. He wasn’t even doing anything that special, but he had teased the fuck out of her to the point that anything would set her off. Y/N leaned back once again, allowing one of her hands to move to his hair while the other gripped at his blanket. He looked so happy to be nuzzled between her thighs, his eyes closed and invested in making her feel good.

“Ah fuck—“ Y/N’s voice went a few octaves higher, those circular motions always did her in. He was still going relatively slow and Y/N just tried to bite her moans back. It was embarrassing all the sounds she was letting out, but she truly had never had a guy pay this much attention to her pussy. She appreciated it so damn much. “Is there anything you can’t do? Fuck—” She whined, feeling like he was just good at everything he did. This man had no flaws in her book, the only problem was his terrible communication skills, but she wasn’t too fussed about that when his face nuzzled in her pussy.

Appreciating the compliment, Harry hummed against her and gave a bit of vibration to her. He had always enjoyed eating pussy, don’t get him wrong. But Y/N was on a whole other level. Reacting to every flick of his tongue, she was his favorite. He pulled away for a moment, spitting over her and going back to spread it around her with his tongue. He was going to blow her mind and he was ready to have her cumming all over his mouth and then his cock. It was a plan to have Y/N soak him and his bed. The next move was his favorite. Wrapping his lips around her clit, and sucking. Just slightly at first, but it was an immediate reaction. Letting out some curses, the grip on his hair tighter, he had a rhythmic and slow way about it, sucking over and over again on the little thing.

“Holy shit— fuck me—” Y/N cursed, gripping tighter on the bed sheets and his hair. Her breathing was slowly starting to pick up as the knot began to tighten in her stomach. Harry has clearly licked out plenty of pussies in his and enjoyed it. She always imagined him to be obsessed with it, but the way he treated hers made her feel like a princess. “S—so good...” Y/N whimpered, knowing that it would only get more intense from here. “Ещё Harry, пожалуйста!” More Harry, please! Her hips unintentionally moved up against his mouth once again, pleading for more in Russian. Maybe he would understand, maybe he wouldn’t, but she knew it was a big turn on for him so she thought maybe he’d do it naturally. There was only one way to find out. Her pussy throbbed against his tongue, her hole begging to be filled. “Please, fuck me... please...” Y/N begged, her voice sounding whiny and desperate. She desperately wanted to feel what it was like to have him fuck her. Properly Fuck her. Make her scream so loud she lost her damn voice.

“Mm. Patient. Daddy’s having fun.” Harry scolded, but dipped his fingers through the cum on her chest before going back to her clit. Using the dirty fingers, he began to slide one of them inside of her. There was something about the thought of his cum inside of her cunt that had Harry wanting more and more of it. He was nearly fucking nursing on her clit, humming happily as her cunt clenched hard around his finger, and he added the second. There was a high noise coming from Y/N, trying to lift her hips but he was doing a good job keeping her down. He wanted to make her cum like this. He was steady, thrusting the two fingers in and out of her soft pussy while defiling her with his cum. Every so often he would go up and scoop up a little more, sliding it back inside of her. It’s where it belonged in his mind. Y/N’s clit throbbed against his tongue, and his fingers could feel how badly she wanted to be fucked. Trying to milk them like she would be on his cock— god, he was going to be a mess as soon as he was inside of her. He was now. Nuzzling against her cunt and sucking harder against her clit, he wanted her to lose her mind

Y/N’s head was spinning. She’d never experienced pleasure like this and she knew for a fact it was all that teasing that did her in. For about three hours she was being edged on, touched, and teased. Even now he wasn’t doing enough to make her properly cum. No, this was all still build up. Whimpers and whines continued to escape her lips as she tried to stay still and relaxed, but it became harder and harder to do as he started pumping cum covered fingers inside of her. God, he was filthy, she loved it. A pussy full of Harry Styles’ cum? A dream. She’d have his fucking baby now if he asked, but frankly she was on the pill. It was surprisingly part of the contract because apparently even Jeff knew Harry liked to fuck raw.

“Please daddy, please let me cum...” Y/N pleaded, the despair present in her voice. “I’ve been so good for you, p—please daddy it hurts!” She whimpered, despite thoroughly enjoying the pain. It was worse than having an itch you couldn’t scratch. “I want your cock, pretty please!”

“Hm. I want you to cum for me first, baby. Before you can have my cock, I want a mess on my face.” Harry was desperate for it actually. He wanted it all over him and wanted to feel her cum on his fingers. Which he did absolutely begin to thrust in and out of her cunt even faster. It was so hot. Y/N was a moaning mess, literally begging for his cock while he finger fucked her. He could hear how wet she was with every thrust of his fingers, and she was rolling her hips as Harry sucked on her clit over and over again, trying to coax her into orgasm. Y/N felt good. She felt like she was meant to be on his tongue, like his fingers even felt perfectly aligned with her hips, and he knew that she was close. “Cmon baby. Let go for me. I know you want to cum for daddy.”

Y/N whined at his response, huffing and whining as he picked up speed. “Oh fuck— daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy!” It didn’t take long for him to find the perfect rhythm and she swore all the breath left out of her lungs. “Oh my god!” The noise she let out was somewhere between a moan and a scream, her orgasm ripping through her. It was a sight to see. Her back arched off of her bed and legs shook uncontrollably, eyes rolling back from the sheer amount of pleasure that was coursing through her body. “Oh daddy..” She breathed heavily, a smile spreading across her face. She had never felt so good in her life. Y/N tugged I’m his hair, begging him to come up for a kiss. She needed it. She had fallen in love. There was no question about it. After knowing what she knew about him and getting to know him over these four months she had decided that she was in fact in love. She’d never tell.

----

It was 3 rounds. 3 rounds of hot and heavy and rough sex unlike anything else he had ever done. Harry knew sex wouldn’t ever be the same again. Y/N had ruined him. Completely and utterly ruined his ass and he couldn’t even be mad yet. Y/N was in his arms, underneath the covers. His hand stroked her hair as they spoke quietly about random things. He was relaxed and soft right now and Y/N had him in the perfect situation to get him to talk. Pillow talk was something he was good at. It's easier to be vulnerable when he was sexed out.

Y/N was messy but in a sexy way. Her hair wild and lips beyond swollen. They’d both need chapstick in the morning, but it was worth it. Her fingers played on his chest and traced his tattoos. Leg over his hip, snuggled right into him. It was unreal. The feeling of euphoria she had just experienced. Three whole rounds of incredible sex that definitely blew everyone else out of the water. She never thought she could connect with anyone like that, but if it would be anyone, it would be Harry. She pressed soft kisses to his warm and somewhat sweaty skin, tracing his tattoos that were still visible in the moonlight that came through the windows of Harry’s room. They never really spoke when they were alone and in private together, she figured now was probably a good time to talk.

“What are you thinking about right now?” Y/N asked softly, genuinely curious because she had no idea what to think. She knew that she hadn’t been acting all night and that what they just shared was special, but what did that mean for them? Honestly, it was all I’m Harry’s hands.

“Well...” Harry was quiet, finger tangled in her hair. “I’m thinking about how that was really good. And how your legs are going to feel like jello tomorrow.” He let out a gentle laugh. Y/N was very, very good at riding. And taking spankings. “But mainly about how good that was. Never seen someone who was willing to go through it… like actually be as kinky as they said.” It was an upheld promise and it meant a lot to him, even if the premise was kind of dumb in hindsight. “A lot of people talk up a good game but when it comes to fulfilling promises or doing things they’re asked... it’s always bullshit. Overcompensating. It’s annoying.” He ran his hand over her arm. Y/N had given him a new point of view. “Especially in entertainment. People promise a lot and rarely deliver at all. They’ll introduce you to someone or they’ll call you, or they’re very good at x y z and end up being shit. It’s just hard. Everyone in this industry likes to talk big games. I know it’s a little dumb but, was nice to see someone who lived up to their talk. Also... someone who didn’t mind getting their mouth spit into.”

Y/N giggled are his comments, listening closely as he spoke. Lucky for her, his voice was nice and slow, very relaxing and comforting. She kept going back to the thought of her in her room thinking about doing this one day and here she was. This was the most he had ever opened up to her and she definitely wasn’t taking it for granted. It was a special moment, it felt like a breakthrough. Her heart was swelling three times its original sizes, she swore it.

“It’s not dumb, it makes sense.” Y/N spoke softly, still tracing his tattoos as a form of soothing him. She laughed at his last comment, taking a second to think before speaking. “I know you were a bit apprehensive about letting me into your life, and maybe you still are, but I do appreciate all the time we get to spend together.” Y/N spoke I’m a small voice, almost scared he’d reject her kindness because he usually did. “You’re a really great guy, Harry.” It was like word vomit, she just had to tell him how she felt without scaring him. Tell him that she liked him, a lot.

Harry’s heart tugged hard. Fuck. He hated that he had to be so distant to her. It was better than the beginning but he knew he was getting too close. Tonight he thought he was going to let himself live in the fantasy world he wanted to be in.

“Thank you.” He smiled at her. God, she was stunning. He could hear the nerves in her voice and he wasn’t going to be the one to crush her right now. He’d wait at least until the morning to remind her that they shouldn’t be doing this and that it was his fault but he couldn’t. Fuck, even the thought made him want to vomit. this felt so right. Y/N was what he wanted but it was that part of him that was so desperately terrified to get close to people that kept speaking from the back of the head that got him every time. “You are too. Far too good.” Realistically he knew Y/N was good, but that deep rooted fear of being used had him holding on to the reins and not willing to let go of his stupid thought that perhaps she just wanted to be famous. There had been no signs. Nothing. Not promoting her bakery any more than normal, not talking to the media. But he was still hesitant. “You’re very nice to me, Y/N. I know sometimes I don’t deserve it but I appreciate it.”

Y/N closed her eyes, listening to his heart beat relax. She had heard it shift, knowing something must have made him nervous and she decided to ignore it for the time being as just listen to what he was saying to her. He was being nice to her, in a Harry in private type of way.

“I didn’t think you—” She paused herself, something telling her to be careful with her choice of wording. “I thought you didn’t like me for a really long time... I just wanted you to accept me because I know this situation isn’t ideal.” Y/N explained, “I hoped I could help in any way...” God she was back to being nervous all over again, word vomit just spewing out because she was terrified he wouldn’t speak to her again. She didn’t want to be the clingy girl after sex. She had gotten way too ahead of herself thinking that he actually liked her like that.

“Hey... you’re good.” Harry panicked a little, pulling her closer to him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you nervous.” Damn, he hadn’t wanted Y/N scared. He was just trying to articulate. But he was kind of mean to her. “You’ve been perfect. I know dealing with me hasn’t been easy. I’m not the perfect person and it’s hard for me, too. I’m not good with new people. Or trusting them.” It was so much easier letting fans into the sliver of his life because they’d never truly know him. But Y/N was a scary aspect because she would be close. Know all his secrets. And he would be forced to trust her. “I never didn’t like you.” That much was true. “I don’t trust easily. It’s a bit scary when... when the whole world wants something from you. You never know who it is and who is safe. Who will pop up and ask something of you. There’s differences. It takes me a while to decide if someone is okay. And it was hard because you’ve been thrusted right in the hardest part. But I can tell you that you’ve been the best and the only person I think that can deal with me.” She was a saint for how she put up with him.

Y/N felt a little pang in her heart at his words. It was sentimental and maybe she was a baby because she was going to hold on to these words for the rest of her life, but she didn’t care. It would be those words that would get her through the tough days when he was acting super distant or when she was sad in general.

“It’s okay, I understand. I never expected to just walk into your life and suddenly be your best mate... I guess my point is I’m glad you trust me enough— enough to do all these things with you.” Y/N said quietly, feeling herself already drifting off into sleep.

“Night night.” She whispered softly, pressing a soft kiss to his chest once again before feeling herself slip off into dream land. The sex had properly tired her out and she needed some rest.

----

It was weird. Harry got a good night's sleep which was incredibly rare for him. He hadn’t wanted to equate it to the sleepy kitten like girl in his arms but it had to be. 100%. Y/N was snoozing in his arms and it physically pained his chest to get out of bed but he needed some coffee.

11 am. They’d slept in rather late. Considering they’d been up until probably 4, it made sense though. Now his mind was racing as he started the coffee pot, wondering how he could push Y/N away. He couldn’t become dependent on her. For sleep or sex or affection. Anything. He hadn’t been regretful at all— he loved last night. He wished that his head wasn’t such a mess. But Y/N deserved better than him for a real love. He had trust issues and insecurities and he was a jealous man and the only reason he hadn’t gone out and punched people who hit on her was because he couldn’t. Y/N needed someone emotionally out together. She had a good heart and would probably offer to help him but he needed to tell her it would be better if they just remained distant friends. His thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell— and a slightly embarrassed to be shirtless Harry had to make his way to the door. Thank god he had pulled on sweats.

Y/N woke up shortly after Harry, feeling the warmth missing. Last night was truly incredible and she just hoped to god things stayed okay. Prayed that she didn’t mess things up by sleeping with him. She pouted a bit at the lack of warmth in the bed, but the smell of coffee meant he was most likely downstairs. Aw that’s sweet. She got up and went to pull on his shirt that was laying around from last night, walking down the stairs just as she heard the doorbell ring.

Huh. That was weird. Was he expecting anyone? Maybe it was Jeff? Regardless, Y/N let her sore legs guide her downstairs only to be met with the sound of a familiar voice. An unwelcome familiar voice. Was it who she thought it was?

Rounding the corner, the identity was confirmed. Kendall fucking Jenner.

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

[part 5]

A/N: oof 🥵🥵🥵 but also a cliff hanger?? the tension!!! you’re in for a bumpy ride

let us know what you think!

masterlist

#writing #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry writing #jarofstyles

634 notes · View notes

dandyxrandy · 3 years

Note

I love your writing! If requests are still open I would die for a touch starved Din x reader where reader has a hand kink 😩. When Din removes his gloves the reader traces his veins with her tongue 👅 . Can lead to smut if you want! Thank you! 🥰

Golden, I am SO sorry this took so long! I worked this past weekend so I wrote a lot in between hours. Hopefully its worth the wait! (I honestly didn’t think it was going to end up this long...) Pairing: Din x Reader Rating: Excplicit Length: 3.8k Warnings: First-Time Din, Touch Starved Din, Slight Hand Kink, Cuddling, No ACTUAL sex, Fingering (MtoF) Summary: It took a splinter to finally see Din’s hands. It Took A Splinter It was small things at first, you noticed, and only when it was you two in the Razor Crest. It was first the removal of his cape, hung off the back of his pilot chair during long stretches of time in hyperdrive. His boots came next, staying off after a shower and only going back on when he needed to leave the Crest. Soon his armor stayed in his quarters all together and he walked around the hull in his black under clothes. His helmet and gloves always stayed on, though, still hiding all of his integrity and making him out to be nothing more than a shape of a human. It both infuriated and intrigued you, but overall you were happy that he felt comfortable enough to shed the armor and walk freely around his ship. You were hired on as a temporary caretaker of sorts to watch Grogu while Din made his rounds through bounty pucks and the placement paid well enough that you continued your occupation well past the terms that were set. It didn’t help that the man was of good company either, even if he was more times grumpy than not and The Child had wormed his way into your heart as well. You dared say it was almost family like - the three of you. It was why you took extra care of both the little womp rat and Din, making sure their clothes were well washed, food was made, and the ship was stocked with the necessities. It was your job and you did it well, something you took extreme pride in. It was a big step up from the ‘bar-maid that you once were’ and had much more security as well. It was why falling in a deep fondness for Din was such a bad idea. Getting attached to a job was never a good thought, yet here you were, spending more and more time lingering next to Din while he did mundane tasks like clean his gun or rewire his ship. Just being next to him made you at ease. Then there was the fact that you loved watching his hands work along any piece of machinery or metal. What did he look like under it all, you wondered. Was he green like the kid? Maybe pale like an albino? Many nights you spent with your hand beneath the waistband of your pants, imagining what his fingers would feel like against your skin, against your lips and teeth and between your legs.

“Dank farrik!” Din had cursed, causing you to peek your head around into the cockpit from the adjacent hall where you were busy counting out food rations. Din had been sitting in his chair for the past half hour, hunched over something. You couldn’t quite tell from your angle what that something was, so you set aside the crate you were rummaging through and came in, wiping your hands down your soft pants. “You okay?” you ask as you round his chair and immediately you freeze. It looked like Din was trying to remove something from his hand - a hand that was very much bare and not in a glove. In fact, neither of his hands were hidden behind the thick leather and the sight before you was scarred and worn skin. It was a tawny beige color that stretched over thick fingers and with every flex of his hand you could see the shift of tendons and veins beneath. It was such a beautiful sight. Din looked up to you, the ‘T’ of his visor turning as he gestured briefly in his frustration. “I have a sliver that I cannot get removed.” He turned his wrist to you to show the irritated red skin that was slightly inflamed in the meat of his hand, just below the thumb. It was in an awkward spot on his dominant hand and you could tell why he was having such a hard time. “It has been there for three days.” “Do you want me to give it a go?” you sheepishly offer him, extending your hand out for the tweezers he was using to try and pry the sliver out with. It would be the first time you touched him on purpose and you’re almost positive he knows this too, but after a moment of deliberation he lets out a sigh and hands over the tweezers. “If you can’t get it out, I’m chopping it off.” You snort at how dramatic he is and move to try to find an angle that works enough for you to work on him. Not finding one you end up dragging one of the ration crates over for you to sit on in front of him, his chair swiveling to the side to give more room. You offer out your open palm to him and he gives his hand over, gently letting it rest in yours. You swear you can hear your heartbeat against your chest with how nervous you are. His skin is dry and rough beneath your touch, but it was also warm and human. “How did you manage this?” you ask in attempt to distract yourself as you begin to work at the edges of skin surrounding the sliver. It was deep and no amount of bending his thumb or squeezing the surrounding flesh was making it budge. “I got stuck when I brought in the crates. Stray piece of wood that I didn’t see. Went through the glove.” He was curt in his answer and you briefly looked up to see him watching you intently. You move the wrong way and the end of the tweezers plucks a raw bit of skin and Din swears, his other hand coming to curl around your knee in a heavy grip. “Sorry!” you apologize, flinching away but the hand on your knee slips up to your lower thigh, holding you from moving to far away. “Don’t. Just...get it out.” Din doesn’t remove his hand, though he does relax his grip a little. You work on him for another few minutes, trying not to have a complete mental break at the fact that Din was touching you, and failing miserably. You felt sweaty and you kept having to refocus on your task because your mind continued to stray to the way Din was letting his thumb trace along the seam of your pants, probably to comfort himself as you dug away the sensitive skin. “Alright this just isn’t working, but I have an idea.” you said as you set the tweezers aside. “You’re going to have to trust me on this. I had a friend growing up that swore by this method, okay?” Din nodded and watched as you brought his hand up to your mouth, lips wrapping around the base of his thumb to create a seal. You sucked in as you dug your bottom teeth into the flesh of his hand and scraped up with them. Pulling away to look, you saw that the sliver moved up a little and couldn’t help but beam up at him. “I almost got it!” Din’s hand stilled on your thigh as you brought his hand back to your mouth and repeated what you did before and you felt the tiny piece of wood almost instantly push out and stick to your tongue. You grinned as you let go of him and licked the wood onto your hand, showing him the little piece. “Got it!” In your triumph you almost missed the cant of the helmet towards you and the way Din shifted, his legs spreading a little wider as he leaned in to cup your cheek. He took hold of your jaw, his thumb brushing along the soft skin there as his other hand slid from your thigh, up to your hip. “Thank you.” The voice coder made his breaths sound heavy.. You stilled under his touch, eyes dropping as your cheeks heated and you saw his cock hard between his legs. Oh. Your eyes snap back up to the visor as Din moves his thumb across your lower lip and you part them, your tongue easing out to press against the pad of his finger. Din’s grip tightens on your hip as he pushes his thumb further in and you meet it with a gentle press of your tongue. He hisses as you move, dragging your mouth from his thumb to the crook where his pointer finger met the curve of his hand and you kiss there, then his palm. You take his hand gently by the wrist and turn it over to kiss the tendons and the dark veins beneath his skin, your tongue tracing along each strand. Din practically whines beneath the touches and you want to do more to praise the skin that he showed you - that he let you taste. “It’s been so long since I’ve touched someone…” he admits in a low whisper. “How long?” You don’t stop the gentle worship of his hand, your lips ghosting over every crease and fold of him, mapping out every little scar and break of skin. These hands have seen so much, taken many lives, and here they were gentle and soft and open for you. “Since...I was a child.” Your heart drops because that was not what you had expected. He hadn’t touched anyone for his entire adult life? You didn’t think something like that was even possible but you also didn’t know much about the Mandalorian Creed, either. Were they celibate until marriage, if they even married? You knew Din had touched others in a more violent sense, what with the nature of his profession but you knew what he meant in his admission. It’s been so long since I’ve touched someone, skin to skin. You take his hand and guide it down your neck, letting his fingers flex briefly around your throat before you take it lower across your collarbone and down your chest to graze over the mound of your breast. You leave it there and let him linger and explore in his own time. “It’s okay, Din - “ you squeeze his hand below yours, making him feel your soft flesh in reassurance. “You can touch me.”It was almost as if you undid a leash on him with your permission. He was quick with you and in the next moment he had you hauled into his lap, legs straddling his hips as he all but tore your shirt off, tossing it to the side of the chair. You let out an indignant squawk at his rough handling and you felt embarrassment under the sudden exposure. You moved to cover yourself but Din;s fingers wrapped around your wrists to keep your hands lowered at your sides. “Please, let me…” he trailed off as he lifted his hands slowly and you noticed they had a slight tremble to them. Long fingers touched just beneath your jaw and trailed down your neck again, the tips warm and teasing. You could feel the hard line of his erection against your thigh and you knew that his touches weren’t all in innocent exploration. His fingers traced over your collarbones again, twin images in their movements, and they dropped lower across the plane of your chest above your breasts. He smoothed his palms down and over, flush against you before they moved low, each hand taking a breast and weighing them in his cupped palms. The tips of his nails scrape over your nipples and you both watch as the skin puckers beneath the touch. He does it again and tweaks the nub at the end and it makes you gasp, your hands slipping lower to grip Din’s legs. You wanted to touch him like he was touching you but you didn’t want to risk breaking the moment. So many times have you imagined this, imagined him touching you and it took a damned sliver in his hand to get you here. “You’re so soft.” Din turns a hand over and lets his knuckles skim along the dip of your waist and the curve of your hip before stroking lightly across your belly, then back again. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of touching you. His fingers linger a bit longer when they dip along the hem of your pants and they slip beneath for a moment before surfacing again. A war waged in his mind and you hoped that the outcome would end up with your pants on the floor. Din heaved a heavy sigh as his hands slid along your sides and up your back to the base of your skull where he threaded his fingers into your hair. You rocked closer, pressing into his chest as you leaned against him, chin resting on his shoulder. He was content to play with your hair there, his fingers rubbing along your head. You felt like there wasn’t a part of you that he hadn’t touched, above the band of your pants, and yet there was so little of him that you had yourself. “Din, I want to touch you.” you paused, moving in his lap a little, hips shifting against his thigh in a slow grind, a small mischievous ploy to help get what you wanted. “Please?” He hummed low in his chest but he didn’t make a move beyond a slight flex of his hands that were now on your shoulders, palms curving across the bend of bone and muscle. You arched into him again, your hips pressing more firmly against his own and your cunt dragged across his length again. Maker, you were wet just from him touching you like this. “Din -” you began again but stopped when you heard the sound of a wrapper crinkle. You perked up and looked over Din’s shoulder and saw the very tip of one green ear in the next room over. “Fuck, Din,” You scramble a little at seeing Grogu not ten feet away, and while he was preoccupied with scarfing down ration bars, you didn’t want to chance him seeing you topless on top of his Dad. “The kid.” You get your shirt back on after getting to your feet and you watch Din adjust himself in his pants as he swivels the chair back around to face the control panel. Grogu looked over from the ration crate he had been plundering and cooed with happiness at finally being given attention. You ran a hand through your hair, composing yourself. “I’ll get him back to bed,” you say shakily. “He was probably just looking for a snack.” Which he obviously found. You go to pick the kid up but Din stops you by catching your hand. “Thank you for...that.” The last word was almost a mumble, as if he was unsure how to explain what just happened between the two of you. You gave his hand a small squeeze. “I would like to do it again, sometime. Maybe after I get the kid to bed?” It was a bold offer and you toed your luck with giving it up but after Din practically melding his hands into your skin, you thought you didn’t have much more to lose. Din squeezed your hand in return, though. “I would like that.” ___ It took about an hour to get Grogu back to sleep after he had finished his snack of three ration bars and a concentrated juice pack. The endless stomach of the kid never ceased to amaze you, even after you’ve seen him eat about a dozen frogs on the last planet that you all had been on. When Din came to find you later, you had the kid in your arms, and were edging close to the land of sleep as well. You gave a somnolent smile and pressed a finger to your lips to ‘hush’ Din, even though he had appeared in the doorway without a sound. You set the kid inside his pod and clicked the button to slide the doors shut and waited a moment to see if there would be any fuss from the other side. When none came you sat on the edge of Din’s bed, heaving out a sigh of relief. “He may be the cutest little cock-block that I have ever encountered in my life,” you jested. Din didn’t move from his stance against the doorway and it made you a little unsure of yourself. Your hands smoothed down your pants to rest on your knees as you contemplated what to do. What did Din think of everything before? Did he regret it now that time and space had been given to the both of you? While you were with the kid you had reflected back on your actions as well and while you didn’t regret what had happened, you did regret that you didn’t take your time to assure Din that things would be fine between the both of you and that if he wanted to forget that it ever happened, you would act like such. You didn’t want to ruin anything between the two of you. “It is late. I suppose I should let you get some sleep, too. I’ll pilot for a bit.” When you stood, Din finally spoke. “Did you mean what you said before? About wanting to ‘do it again sometime’?” You answered without really thinking, letting your heart lead first before your mind could catch and silence it. “I did.” Din’s head tipped and you imagined his eyes closing in thought and you wondered what he was thinking. You hoped it was about touching you again. Maker, you wanted him to touch you again. “I would like that. Kriff - let me, please.” It sounded like a plea as he closed the distance between both of you, his hands sliding up to cup your face. His gloves were still off and his fingers were warm as they slid against your skin. The cool metal of his helmet dipped against your forehead to rest there as he held you close. It almost felt like a kiss and for all you knew, it was the closest thing you would get to having one with him. When you didn’t pull away Din shifted to press closer. “Take off your clothes,” he softly whispered. “And lay on the bed.” The command left you shaky with need and you fell into a gentle movement as you removed your clothing, Din stepping back enough to watch you expose yourself to him. You glanced briefly to the egg pod that Grogu was in and the lights blinked gently to indicate that the little one was still asleep inside. You would have to stay quiet. Your shirt came first, up and over your head. The cool air of the ship made your skin raise with gooseflesh and Din reached out to touch your arm, thumb rubbing over the prickled flesh. Your chest heaved with heavy breaths as you leaned down to take off your pants and underwear in one go, Din’s hand slipping into your hair as you did. He wasn’t making this any easier. “On the bed.” It sounded like it was more for himself than you but you moved away from his touch and laid where you were told to, propping yourself up by your elbows as you watched Din move to kneel before you. Awareness sprung to the forefront of your mind and you realized just how very naked you were and it made you blush. Din was slow, too, as he reached to touch the bone of your ankle and up, his palm curving over your shin to form against your leg. It was so tender, how he touched you, and you reveled in it. His touch slid higher towards the warmth between your legs and you shut your eyes, head tipping back as his knee knocked your legs apart to reveal yourself to him. “Mesh’la,” he muttered, his fingers stopped at your hip as he looked you over. You felt so hot under his gaze even though you couldn’t see anything past the black visor. Arching into his touch you allowed your legs to bend and your hips shift up so he could see all. His hand traveled from your hip to the space just below your belly and his heel dragged across your pubic mound, then further. He covered you fully at first, his palm curling before his fingers dragged along your outer lips then inner. You canted your hips up into the touch and the very tips of his fingers pressed inside. You moaned out his name before remembering you needed to be quiet and you pressed a hand against your mouth as he explored further up to the first knuckle of one finger. You were already so slick and open for him and it made it easy for him to slide all the way in and then pull back out to add a second finger. He slowly fucked you with his hand and when he curled his fingers up you had to catch yourself from pitching forward. It was so good - almost enough. You reached down to join his hand and you spread yourself with your fingers, your thumb pressing against your clit. “Here,” you breathed. “Touch here, too. Steady and slow. Don’t go fast, not yet.” Din’s thumb flicked up and over and you bucked up again into the touch. His free hand came down on your stomach, pressing your hips back into the mattress as he rubbed small circles on your clit while his fingers remained in you, stretching you full. “Kriff -that’s so good.” It was a praise that spurred him forward, keeping his thumb pressed down but speeding up to a quicker stroke. Your body arched up despite his hold and you twisted beneath him as you felt the head of your arousal rumble deep. A thin sheen of sweat broke across your skin as Din kept at you, steady and so beautifully dedicated. He listened to your whines and pants of pleasure and adapted to it. “I’m gonna - fuck…” Your hands twist in the sheets of the bed, your entire being becoming taught as your orgasm builds beneath Din’s hands. “Cum for me, ad’ika.” You do, your legs shaking as Din strokes the fire within, along your clit, and through your body’s movements beneath him. He rides your release with you and you know he’s watching it all, his gaze behind the helmet heavy on your flushed skin. Through your haze you can feel how gentle he is with you, his hand no longer bringing you over the edge but now coaxing you to ride the slope down. He holds you, your leg and your hip, his thumbs peeling over and over against the skin in a gentle worshiping caress. Blinking lazily you turn to him, glance down between his own legs and see the dark patch gathering there and you couldn’t help but smile. He hushes you and moves to cover your body with his own, his weight held up by the frame of his arms. “Thank you,” Din’s voice is soft through the vocoder. “Let me -” You reach down between the both of you but Din catches your wrist. “Not tonight. Let’s just stay like this,” He pauses as you frown a little. “Please,” He adds and you agree, settling beneath the cover of his body in the knowledge that he just wanted to take care of you and take greedy touches of your skin. The warm weight of him sends you in and out of sleep and you twist to settle more comfortably on your side. Din moves with you and lays behind, his body pressed up to every inch of your backside and legs twining with yours.

It was, perhaps, the best way you have fallen asleep in a very long time.

#randyanswers #din x reader #din djarin #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #the mandolorian #randywrites

32 notes · View notes

vanchlo · 4 years

Text

Fireflies

Blurb Synopsis: It was your first summer working at a sleep away camp, and you were feeling a little homesick yourself. That all disappeared when you met the counselor of your sister group, Harry, who is in charge of the all-boys cabin, Campfire. Your all-girls cabin, Butterflies, came to love Campfire and their counselor, and very quickly, so did you. You were afraid you had come to like him a little too much, more than friends typically do.

Genre: Camp Counselor!Harry, friends to lovers, fluffy, some nostalgic vibes, and romance.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 6.3k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: Fireflies by Owl City I guess (click to listen)

You had been coming here for a good while now, already having memorized the placement of Ursa Major and Minor in the night sky. You found your way down the trail, past the sandy beach, and to the rickety wooden dock every night after lights out. The flashlight clicks off in your hand, but once you reach the pavilion you hardly need it anymore, the last licks of the bonfire lighting up the beach. A loon sings nearby on the lake, waves lapping at the shore, plastic shovels, and a few socks certainly hidden amongst the sand.

The twist-off cap opens with a pleased sigh, and the refreshing cold beer is welcomed by your lips. Exhaling, your eyes float towards the pitch-black sky and search for Orion whose tall figure has escaped you for the last few nights. These nightly stargazing trips have become a comfort for you, your new home suddenly being a camp of youngsters, and your bedroom consisting of a tiny cabin that leaks when it rains and lacks air conditioning.

You had just finally been starting to adjust to life as a summer camp counselor, and there was one significant reason for that. His name was Harry, well, is. He’s the counselor for the all-boy cabin, Campfire, and has been your sister group for your all-girl cabin, Butterflies.

Due to this, the both of you had been seeing a lot of each other as your cabins interacted often. Nearing the end of the first week of camp, and now anytime one of your kids asked to play with Campfire, you jumped at the opportunity. Although it mostly was due to seeing Harry, who had quickly become your favorite coworker, it was undeniable that your kids got along so well.

That was another thing, he was so good with his kids, and yours. There were a few girls in your 8s cabin who did a bad job of hiding their crushes on him, always hanging all over him. With no fail, every day during your shared swimming time in the lake, they were begging Harry again and again. Whether it was to throw them in the water, hoist them up onto his shoulders, or to build a sandcastle with him - they couldn’t get enough of him. After spending only four days with him, you couldn’t blame them, because neither could you.

It almost shocked you how quickly you had come to know him, and became fast friends. After running into each other on the main trail on your way to breakfast the first day, you found him waiting by the large red pine near your cabin every morning since. He even had begun to save his sausages for you, and you always gave your banana muffin to him.

Today, your groups had spent the entire day together, and so did you and Harry. The kids especially enjoyed your time on the paddleboards this afternoon, but you weren’t too sure about Harry pushing you off into the water every time you got the courage to stand up on it. The laughs continued throughout your hike in the woods that Harry claims he didn’t get your cabins lost on, but you knew better than to believe him when he began to nervously knead at his bottom lip with his fingers. Face painting may have been your favorite activity from today, despite the nervousness that tickled your body when his face was inches away from yours. He painted the most darling butterfly on your cheek, and he bragged about the banana you left on his for the rest of the day.

The beer dribbles off of your bottom lip, gracing your skin flushed from the heat still sitting in the night air, and from thinking about him. Harry. Everybody loved him, even the other camp counselors, and especially some of the fellow female ones. You couldn’t help but notice how Porcupines and their counselor, Erica, had taken a liking to Harry. They seemed to be friends from last summer, but this was your first summer working here at the camp, and that fact alone intimidated you. It made you tell a white lie when Harry asked if you wanted to play board games with his group, or if he should hang out with Porcupines who live in your cabin neighborhood.

Only after a week of knowing him, with four of those being camp days, and the others being staff training days, there was little he couldn’t do to dazzle you. Every night, there was a huge camp-wide bonfire. Not everybody joined, only those who wanted to, but ever since you claimed the upright log right of Harry on the first night, it had become your spot. He continued to amaze you night after consecutive night with his guitar playing, from Take Me Home, Country Roads to Wagon Wheel and of course, Wonderwall. More than once, you had felt his eyes on yours and found just that when you looked over at him, him soon winking with smiling lips.

Oh, those lips and all of the dreams you had about them.

The lake water lapping at your feet hanging off of the dock does little to cool you down on this early June night, but after the train of thought that’s taken off, there’s little you can do to cool down. To make matters worse, your skin spreads with electricity when you hear a twig snap nearby. You don’t even have the time to ask who’s there, because the milky moonlight lights up features of a familiar somebody.

“Care if I join ya?” they rasp, nodding to the section of dock to your left. Shaking your head ‘no,’ the wooden boards rattle and squeak with their heavy footsteps. “Y’know ‘ve seen ya sneak out, but neva knew where ya went, and now lookie here. I found ya.”

“Congrats, you finally won a game of hide-and-seek,” you joke, the dark glass wet against your shaky fingers as you hold out the beer to him.

“Oh, shuddup. Ya don’t know how hard it ‘s bein’ tall when tha kids ask me t’ play hide-and-seek. ‘s not like I can hide behind a tree as easily as they bloody can,” he giggles, and clinks the neck of his beer bottle against yours. “Cheers t’ a great almost first week o’ camp, and here’s t’ many mo’.”

“Cheers,” you echo, the frosty beer doing little to move the knot that appeared in your throat the second he stepped onto the beach in front of you.

Yes, here’s to many more weeks of camp with him- with Harry.

Your stargazing nights dipping your toes in the water continued every night without fail. And night after night, Harry showed up with two bottles of beer. Sometimes, he beat you and you found him waiting for you. Other nights, you were early and brought wine coolers instead. Nonetheless, it became another camp tradition of yours, and neither of you broke it.

That was until you broke your two and a half week streak one night, and not because you were sick or had a legitimate reason. No, your reason did feel legitimate, and it stung every time your subconscious drudged it back up. That didn’t mean you could tell Harry though, and you had a good reason for that too. A good reason was something he seemed to be missing, you thought, and you wished that you knew why.

Earlier that day, rain had been forecast for most of the afternoon, but instead of refreshing showers for the kids to dance in, a muggy heat had settled in the air. You couldn’t say that you weren’t complaining, because well, you were and Harry got an earful of it. He didn’t complain though, and lastly, yours ceased once your shared swimming time arrived. Lucky for you, your leadership staff had moved things around for your group to swim again later, after lunch. Seeing Harry in his short royal blue swim trunks not once but twice was rewarding enough, and so was when he stuck you on his shoulders, pulling laughs from all of the kids’ smiling lips.

The incessant heat drilled at your sun kissed skin later that night when you had had enough of your humid cabin, settling on the first of the wooden steps. Your attention was drawn over to a nearby staff cabin when you heard voices and laughter, but you dismissed it as you decided to take a cool shower in the bathhouse up the hill.

The voices grew louder amongst the cover of trees surrounding you, and as you hiked up the hill, you realized you were nearing their source. Almost immediately, you pick up on one of the voices, recognizing it seamlessly. You take a step forward at the inviting sound, but your foot stops in midair when you finally recognize the second voice. If that wasn’t enough to repel you, the appearance of them both outside a shaded cabin does it for you.

There he stands with only inches in between the two of them. Harry, and fricken Erica, of all people. You’re not sure what’s going on, but quickly, you realize that you stepped in on something you shouldn’t have. You turn around hastily and begin to walk away, but you freeze in place when the voices plummet into silence. Looking over your shoulder, your suspicions are confirmed when a pang jolts through your body at the sight of his lips upon hers. Your limbs are unstuck now and moving fast and away from that tragic sight. You don’t stop walking until you reach the bathhouse and hear the loud bang! of the door slamming behind you. Thank God you find that you have the girl’s side all to yourself a few moments later, and only once you’re under the cold spray of the shower, do you let the tears fly.

You didn’t know what to do with the rest of your night once you swore off showing up to the dock under the stars that night to meet him. Instead, you took advantage of the spotty Wi-Fi to catch up on YouTube videos, but it did little to distract you from what was going on deep down inside of you.

The next day wasn’t much better as it was still sweltering hot outside, and it was awkward trying to avoid Harry and his cabin, even though you and your kids had all become fast friends by now. Once you reached dinner, the worst of the day was over, and yet you wondered how’d you be able to do it all over again and ignore him. Even today, you weren’t able to fully ignore him. Your cabin was scheduled to bike earlier that afternoon before it got too hot, and in order to go biking, you had to have two staff with for safety reasons. You exchanged as few words as possible with him before and after the bike ride, but he still tried to crack jokes over your walkie talkies during the ride, seeing that the two of you were on a special channel, per the rules. It was obvious that he knew something was up, because neither of you had missed a night on the dock under the stars together, and last night you had done just that.

It was difficult at first, sitting in your cabin last night once the clock struck ten o’clock. You had begun to squirm and a hot itchy feeling came over your body, filling you with guilt, but quickly it subsided and was replaced by something else when you remembered seeing his lips on hers. Fucking Erica, what did he even see in her? you had poured over at least a dozen times since then. She was always yelling at her cabin when you passed her, and when she wasn’t, she was on her phone and ignoring her kids. You were surprised that one of them hadn’t gotten hurt badly yet, seeing as she never paid attention to them, and it drove you nuts how Harry could have feelings for somebody like that. He adored his kids and yours, making you wonder all the more why things had to be this way.

Your kids had complained all day, asking to play with Campfire, to hike to The Point with them or to do the low ropes course with them. Relent you did not, and only once besides the biking did they interact, and that was later in the day when it was time for cabin cleaning and so your cabins played together outside while you and Harry did the big cleaning jobs.

Regardless of how good of a job you had done at avoiding him today, you still felt his eyes on yours in the pavilion at lunch and dinner, and especially during swim time when you hung back on the beach. You just didn’t know how to talk to him normally again after seeing what you did, and you already knew the tragic effects it had caused for your friendship, and not just that, but anything more that you had wanted.

Yesterday had seemed like a piece of cake compared to now, sitting in your cabin as the short hand neared the nine and the long hand neared the six. You had thought about sneaking over to your friend, Molly’s cabin, for the night but you passed up the idea after remembering she had started dating another counselor recently, and was probably somewhere with them. Quickly, what was starting to become one of the best summers was now turning into a dream turned nightmare. It all slowly drifted away when you finally succumbed to the exhaustion building up from your long day spent in the sun.

When you awoke next, it was already quarter to ten pm, and you weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. No, you quickly wished it was the next morning or anytime later than well, now. It was still too soon, and as you slipped on sandals to use the bathroom, the guilt found its way back to you. The only thing going for you was that you had avoided any run ins with him, or for that matter, anybody, on your way to the bath house to use the bathroom. This is why I shouldn’t down wine coolers when I’m sad, you tsked within your thoughts as the flashlight led you back down the path to your cabin.

Cursing yourself for not turning on the fan before you fell asleep, you let the screen door of your cabin slap against the doorframe once you return. During your disaster of a day, you had also left clothes laying around, the beginning of what would surely become a colossal mess.

“Y’know, yer not s’posed t’ eat in here, you’ll attract bears and racoons,” a voice drawls from across the room. A jolt rockets through your body at the fright, only to end in a groan. “‘s true, I swear it. One o’ me coworkers last summer had a raccoon in their cabin ‘cuz they didn’t heed tha warnings.”

“Sure,” you respond, picking up an empty Doritos bag that you toss in the bin, ignoring his eyes that you feel hot on your back. “What are you doing in my cabin, Harry? You do realize that you’re breaking a rule, right? ‘No counselors of opposite sex in another counselor’s cabin after lights out,’” you recite aloud, continuing to pick up more of the evidence from your prior night spent wallowing in your tears and choice of junk food. Well, last two nights, for that matter.

“Bears seem much mo’ harmful than a simple visit from yer friend, I reckon.”

Friend, you say? you think silently to yourself before you can stop, accompanied by a scoff that falls from your lips for him to hear.

“If ya wanna know, ya’ve been ignorin’ me all day long. Ya wouldn’t answer yer texts, so I had t’ go t’ some dire straights and pay ya a visit. So, why’re ya ignorin’ me, darlin’? Did I do sumthin’ wrong?” Harry ponders aloud, moving from his previous perch on the cloth chair in the corner to your bed now.

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” you insist, picking up a pink Laffy Taffy wrapper to add to the handful of others.

“Yes ya were, even tha kids in our cabins noticed. Mo’ importantly, ya stood me up fer our nightly visits on tha dock, not jus’ last night but t’night as well. Figured there must be an important reason ya skipped, looks like t’night ya fell asleep, but why’d ya miss last night?”

With your back to him, you try to swallow past the lump that’s appeared in your throat, but it’s next to impossible. The opportunity arises, and you take it and run. In reality, you tie the full garbage bag into a knot and enter the humid night once again. You can hear his heavy footsteps behind you.

“‘m not done talkin’ t’ you!” Harry exclaims, the door slamming behind him as you walk down the trail blindly, knowing that the nearest dumpster is only ahead a few paces.

“Shouldn’t you be hanging out with your girlfriend? Seeing that’s how all of the counselors here spend lights out time,” you retort, the bravery growing within you as the crickets sound from the tall grass around you.

“What girlfriend? I don’t have one.”

“Oh, so then why were you sucking face with Erica? That kind of thing implies a relationship, you know,” you spit in return, at last finding the dumpster in the near dark, and pitching the garbage bag into it. “Let’s see how good you really are at hide and seek,” you tease after hearing the plop! of the garbage bag falling into the dumpster.

“I already found you t’day when we played,” he groans, but you can hear his footsteps following yours.

Your name flies from his lips but quickly, his voice becomes far away as you dash down the trail. He calls for you, but he’s already lost you and within moments, you see the flickering light above the very cabin you’re looking for.

His voice tickles at your ears as you slip in past the door, pressing it closed so it doesn’t make a sound. It doesn’t really look like how you had expected. Remnants of a clean, organized cabin remain amongst the clothes, shoes, and books strewn across the floor. A Fleetwood Mac poster dons a wall, leaving the others lonely in the small room. A blue quilt is tugged halfway up the bed with random shirts littering the striped sheets. Amongst them sits his Macbook covered with stickers, an open Marvel comic, and a journal thrown to the side, open to a page covered in messy handwriting.

The squeaking of the door opening sounds behind you, accompanied by heavy footsteps and labored breathing. Taking a page from his book, you plop down onto the bed and are soon enamored by the vinyl stickers on his laptop. The knot appears again in your throat as you trace the designs on the stickers, letting them grow hazy through the tears filling your eyes.

“Me cabin isn’t a very good hidin’ spot, darlin’,” Harry murmurs from behind you, but you could care less, knowing that this is where you wanted to end up all along.

“You probably don’t know this, but I’ve wanted to be friends with you since the very first day I met you. You had this contagious happiness to you that seemed to spread to anybody you met. No matter who it was or what kind of mood they were in, they always left you with a smile on their face,” you begin, toying with the unraveling edge of a sticker showing a Fender Telecaster guitar. “You can always make me smile, and I appreciate that so much, but I saw you and Erica kiss and I . . I can’t pretend that it didn’t tear me apart, Harry.”

“Darlin’, I told ya, ‘m not datin’ her. I did last summer, fer maybe two bloody weeks.”

“Then why-,” you begin, until he cuts you off prematurely.

“She kissed me, not tha otha way ‘round, ‘m tellin’ ya tha truth,” he nearly promises aloud, words hurried and adamant from over your shoulder.

You begin to nod your head until your ears prick up at the sound of one of your manager’s shouting from the trail a warning about being in your own cabins past lights out. Not wasting another second there crying on his bed, you scurry away without another word to Harry, even though you were filled to the brim with them. His face consumed with worry and questions was burned into your mind for the rest of the night.

It was the very last thing you saw until you fell asleep.

You were unsure of how to feel the next day, a Friday, and you found that it was all the more harder today to avoid him. First, your groups had art time together in the Art building, and then before you could stop it, your cabins began to play together at the nearby volleyball net when you and Harry were each cleaning up after board game time in your own cabins. It was hard to stay mad at Harry, you swiftly learned, due to him really laying on the charm and fun during volleyball with the kids. You thought it would be a good idea to avoid getting in the lake again later that day, but once again, he just couldn’t stay away.

“Not gonna swim today, are we?” he asks, brushing away sand from your towel that you occupy before he sits down next to you.

You suffice an answer with a quick shake of your head, grateful for the minimal cover of your dark sunglasses, hoping that they hide at least some of your secrets.

“Ah, so yer still ignorin’ me, ‘s that right?” he hums, the weight easily heard in his words. No matter what you do, you don’t look at him, but as the seconds tick by, it becomes all the harder.

You can hear the little drip drop of the lake water pooling off of his body, probably from the lip of his mustard yellow swim trunks scattered with cartoon pineapples. Despite the anger, your insides scream at you to finally look over at him, and the entirety of his wet body. You somehow resist, keeping your eyes forward at your kids dipping in and out of the waves. When you remember the revolting sight of him kissing her, it becomes far easier to distract yourself by counting the heads of your kids for the third time in ten minutes.

“Harry, did you convince her to come and swim?” one of Harry’s boys from Campfire asks from the shallow end.

“No,” he groans, just at your side, and when the boy asks ‘why’, he doesn’t hold back, “How am I s’posed t’ know? Ask her, she won’t tell me anyways. She’s all crabby t’day,” he retorts, getting up and brushing the sand from his legs before stalking off to sit on the dock. He sinks down onto the wooden planks almost in the very same spot that he would every night you’d find him waiting there under the glow of the moon and the stars.

The sight of him making one of the tanned lifeguards laugh is worsened by your reminiscent thoughts. Wishes course through your mind hastily and unwarranted, including why this has to be so hard.

Every time the cursed image would float into your subconscious once again, you would bat it away with your imaginary stick. Slowly, it began to work, and by the time dinner rolled around, you were warming up to him again, or so you thought. In your place in line, you scoped out the empty seat beside him at his table, but by the time you had gotten your food, it was filled, and with another attractive coworker from the Bat Cave cabin.

For the second night in a row, your place next to Harry at the campfire had been stolen away from you. This time, you hadn’t meant for it to happen, and that had only made the burn sting worse.

Instead of staying to listen to Harry lead singalongs with his Fender acoustic sat in his lap, and with the lifeguard from earlier fawning over him from your seat, you skipped your first ever nightly campfire. Comments from your kids from the last two days found their way back to you and only made you wish you were somewhere else all the more. It had grown annoying the number of times they had asked you why you wouldn’t let them play with Campfire cabin or ‘why you and Harry weren’t friends anymore.’ One incident from earlier that day at the beach had almost brought tears to your eyes, and thank God you had remembered your sunglasses today if it had succeeded.

You had finally let your eyes stray to Harry once he had forgotten about the cute lifeguard and dove back into the water, welcomed by his campers. One of your girls ran out of the lake, water dripping from every inch of her little body. She said hi to you and asked if she could sit by you, a question you didn’t have to think about. After wrapping her Moana towel around her, she fell onto Harry’s previous seat, and soon you felt her eyes hot on your cheek.

“Why aren’t you swimming?” she wonders aloud, pulling the towel around her front and hiding her bent legs underneath it.

“I forgot my suit.”

“Then just go and get it in your cabin,” she insists with a shrug of her shoulders, as if it’s obvious.

“I don’t want to swim today.”

“Then why didn’t you just say that?” she laughs, letting her shivering chin fall onto her bent knees. “But you always swim with us, and with Harry,” the little girl named Zoey says, the question heard in her voice. This time, it’s a question you can’t answer as easily as before. “It’s not as much fun without you swimming out there with us, even Harry says so.”

Again, you’re lost for words and you think she may be able to tell. You attempt to pass the time by counting your children again, but it takes longer when they’re dipping in and out of the water. Just when you think that you have most of them, you lose track once they start to move.

“I think Harry likes you,” Zoey declares aloud, and an amused scoff hums from your lips. Your insides battle for how much value to take from her words, both wondering what a kid could know and also aware of how smart and observant they actually are. “I think he’s super cute, but I’m not old enough to be his girlfriend. I’m only eight, so I think you should be his girlfriend. Do you like him?”

“I don’t know, I think he likes somebody else,” you answer with a contradicting laugh contrite with ironic sadness.

“I asked him and he said he doesn’t have a girlfriend,” Zoey remarks, turning her head to smile up at you proudly with one eye closed shut, squinting at you through the bright rays of the summer sun.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, Zoey?” you tease, turning your head to look at her, crossing your arms comically.

“I don’t know,” she giggles, her thick and dark eyelashes clumping together from the lake water. Your hand wanders to her tanned neck dotted with freckles, laughs singing from her lips once your fingers dance across the crook of her neck. “Fine, some of us in Butterflies and Campfire are trying to get you and Harry to be boyfriend and girlfriend. We call it ‘The Fireflies Mission’ - you know Fire from Campfire cabin and Flies from Butterflies cabin. But it’s Top Secret so you can’t tell anybody I told you,” she reveals, raising a finger to her lips.

A laugh peels from your lips until it ends abruptly, the words settling with you. The sentiment knits together within your mind and your heart comes to be involved, bringing forth the heavy warmth behind your eyes that threaten to spill onto your cheeks.

“You guys are sweet, but don’t bother,” you say, sufficing for an answer with a dismissing wave of your hand.

“No! You two would be so cute together, we all think so. We think Harry likes you, and don’t you think he’s cute? Come on, I bet you do,” she teases, bringing her revenge with pink chipped polished fingers crawling up your arm.

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do! That’s why you keep staring at him and his butt!” she insists, with a smirk missing a few teeth.

“Zoey, stop it!” you return, but your words quickly collapse into laughs that she echoes.

“If you don’t tell him, then I will!”

“Zo’, you don’t even know if I like him or not,” you approach sternly, but it’s wasted once a chuckle consumes your argument.

“You so do, you two are always flirting! Just ‘cause I’m a kid doesn’t mean I’m stupid,” she argues, fire behind her crystal blue eyes. Her blonde eyebrows wiggle along her freckled forehead, wet pigtails swinging above her shoulders. “So, are you gonna tell him or not?”

An answer escapes you, and when it does, she lets her towel fall away as she gets to her feet in a hot pink, one-piece swimsuit. Before you can stop her, her long legs dotted with bug bites, scrapes, and bruises sprint away from you.

“Harry!” she exclaims, glancing over her shoulder to you, sticking her tongue out at you.

“Zoey!”

“I’m not going to,” she calls back, turning around and pulling down the white goggles over her eyes. You’re forgotten and she returns to her friend, Cammie, who’s searching for shells underwater. “Harry, I wanna be thrown in too!” Zoey continues, pulling on Cammie’s arm to follow until she’s jumping on Harry’s back where he’s crouched in the water. You look away, attention stolen by your name spoken on the walkie talkies.

Little did you know, that within moments, Harry’s eyes were running over to you and all because of something a little birdy had said.

It was still light enough that you didn’t need your flashlight yet, the one each of you was given at the beginning of the summer, and the one that Harry had already lost little to your surprise. You could still hear his voice belting out Hey Jude at the campfire from down the trail, beginning the end consisting solely of na na’s. Slowly, the na na’s grew louder and louder, probably as Harry convinced more kids to join the terribly simple singalong, and one you had wished you were a part of. You wouldn’t want to do anything more, and yet, you knew why you couldn’t.

The reasons were shy and didn’t come to you when you asked, and with that realization, your feet begin to stray from your nightly walk to your cabin and to somewhere else. The blankets were far messier than before and now, CDs and more books joined their distraught mess. T-shirts scattered the floor and so did socks and bandanas, several that were familiar from donning his head of curls already this summer. All of the rules, both campwide and personal, flew through your head, and exited out through your other ear. You wished that so many other thoughts could do the same, but you felt yourself clinging to so many, and that you had begun to become okay with that.

“Told ya me cabin isn’t a good hidin’ place when yer tryna t’ hide from me.”

The voice surprises you, but not enough to bring you to turn around. You’d be lying to yourself if you said that you had hoped he wouldn’t have come. The one thing that does surprise you is the fact that what doesn’t come to you is any words that feel right, and as if they belong.

“I don’t wanna fight with ya anymo’, darlin’. Tha kids don’t like it and neitha do I. Bloody hell, look at me soundin’ like a proper dad, already,” Harry announces, the second half claimed by an awkward laugh marked by the silence you give to him. “I dunno how many times I gotta fookin’ say it, but ‘m not with Erica, or anybody else fer that matta. Ya’ve become me best friend ova tha last few weeks, and ‘m sorry that that kiss ruined that, but I wanna fix it. I don’t wanna lose me best friend ova some rubbish kiss, a kiss that I didn’t even want or initiate . . Anyways, ‘m goin’ back t’ tha bonfire. I told ‘em I was jus’ usin’ tha loo quick, but ‘ll be waitin’ at tha dock t’night, and I really hope ‘ll see ya there . . . butterfly.”

An owl cooed in the distance, joining the nightly song led by the crickets and the frogs. Somehow, the heat still lingered despite the absence of the sun, and the humidity left a stifling feeling in the air. It made you wonder why you remained here, miserable from the humid heat and mosquitoes that pestered at your skin. The fan you bought for its five different settings beckoned you to return the second your cabin door closed. Now, a ways down the trail, you almost wish you’d never left. With each step, that begins to shrink away as a nervousness overwhelms you, propelling your feet forward. A yawn lingers on your lips as the rocks and dead leaves crunch beneath your steps.

Curses fly from your lips when your eyes land on the empty dock painted with the moonlight. Your chest falls with a long sigh when you glance to your phone that reads 10:18 pm, almost an hour late. The emotions brew inside of you as you turn on your heel quickly, backtracking your steps.

“Didn’t think ya’d show,” a voice murmurs from the darkness, making you whip around to face the pavilion where it comes from.

“I fell asleep again, I’m sorry,” you confess with a heavy voice, laden with apologies and regret. Harry steps out of the shadows with his hands hidden in the pockets of his baby pink hoodie, only a few steps away and nearing you with every second. “Please believe me, I-.”

The explanation escapes your lips and also the air when he steps forward, lacing his fingers with yours.

“I believe ya . . butterfly, ‘s okay.”

“And Harry, I believe you too . . . when you said you didn’t kiss her. I’m sorry it took me so long to,” you admit, the overdue words diving into the air to grace his ears.

“Thank ya, darlin’. Now, I heard sumthin’ funny from a li’l birdy earlier t’day,” he smirks and it only grows higher when you take his other hand into yours. One corner of his mouth reaches higher up his cheek as confusion knits together within your mind. “A certain sumbody had sumthin’ interestin’ t’ tell me befo’ I threw her into tha water . . Sound familiar now?”

His growing grin fills your eyes as the puzzle pieces click together almost instantly.

“Zoey,” you grumble from behind gritted teeth as his giggle sings in your ears. “That little liar.”

“Reckon they’ve had it out fer us tha whole summer,” he smiles. “I told her that I bet I love her counselor mo’ than she does,” he confesses hesitantly, eyes flitting away from yours with a blush filling his cheeks.

“Harry,” you begin warmly, squeezing his hands in between your clammy pair.

“I only wanna do this if we’re gonna really give it a try, don’t wanna ruin our friendship or have tha kids pay tha price of it not goin’ well. So no mo’ ignorin’ me when things get tough,” Harry says, pointing his stern eyes at you, but you hardly notice because of the words he speaks. “No if’s, and’s, or but’s, got it?” he finishes, reciting his catch phrase he uses with the boys in his cabin.

“Got it,” you smile, feeling as if your lips couldn’t reach higher, but they do when his come to meet yours. They’re sweeter than you had imagined, and softer. The nostalgic smell of sunscreen clings to his skin, almost hidden by the strong scent of the bonfire you always smelled on him during your nights on the dock. The troubles from the last few days melt away upon his lips, and all traces escape when his arms come around you.

“How bad d’ya reckon they’ll freak when we tell ‘em?” he wonders aloud after breaking the kiss, pulling you against his warm chest.

“Wait, you think we should tell them?”

“Ya, we gotta, seein’ as their Fireflies Mission worked and ev’rythin’. We’ll just leave out tha part where we did all the hard work,” he snickers from above you, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“How’d you find out about their mission?” you giggle against his chest, the tassels to his hoodie digging into your cheek.

“Cuz they’re not very good at keepin’ secrets, just like they’re counselors,” Harry chuckles, pulling one from your mouth as well. “C’mon, let’s go. I think tha beers I brought might still be cold.”

A soft ‘okay’ leaves your lips to meet the air as he pulls on your hand to follow him, the first grains of sand tickling at your toes as you ruminate on how you haven’t felt this okay in quite a long time.

All thanks to your special little firefly, the best friend to your very own butterfly.

137 notes · View notes

interstellarrambles · 4 years

Text

infatuation. js.

pairing: john shelby x male!reader

warnings: uhh mentions of violence, John definitely has a knife kink

a/n: gay yearning and a kiss in a back alley. we love to see it as my comeback post. I've been dealing with a lot recently and have struggled to find the motivation. I know you've all been waiting for requests and such but it's not easy to craft the perfect response sometimes. hope you enjoy xx

bustling with energy, the betting shop was almost alive, its beating heart the thumping sound of men and women shouting over each other, jostling for places in front of John and the blackboard. this is how it was almost every time you were in here - after meeting John in school, and being posted with him during the war, you had cemented a friendship that had unsurprisingly stood the test of time. this friendship gained you a place in the shelby family, and obviously, by default, a place in the business. most of the family accepted you with open arms: you were a much needed breath of fresh air, level headed but strong willed, and more than able to look after yourself. all the years in the army had some benefits, one being the handling of munitions, something you excelled in, along with combat, so letting you join the business was more than beneficiary, as the shelbys had quickly realised.

you had been involved for a good few years, and to be fair, you loved it - sure, the criminal record and violence wasn't exactly ensuring a place in heaven for you, but your life was good. surrounded by people that cared about you, and a job that at least never got boring, you thought you didn't really need much else, but after a while, you couldn't be so sure.

as a young man, you never really knew how to express it, but you just weren't interested in girls, something that, when you spent so much time with the shelbys, was something you couldn't exactly hide from. brushing off the teasing from john and his brothers about it, you simply pushed it to the back if your mind, and concluded that maybe when you were older and ready to settle, you would be bothered. this wasn't quite the case.

here you were, over thirty, without a wife, and stuck around, admiring your best friend all the time. if you looked back on the timeline of your friendship with him, you weren't sure you would be able to pick out the exact moment you realised you were falling for him, but now, after nearly a decade and a half of being pals, it was safe to say you had fallen. hard.

john was completely in his element, shouting out odds, smirking at the familiar ruckus he had been missing recently - since having children, he had way less time on his hands, and though you tried your hardest to help, you knew it got to him. it made you feel somewhat perverted, being so starstruck with a man you knew thought of you only as a friend, but there was something about the way you kept catching his eye, the way he would make excuses to spend time with you, that made a small part of you hopeful.

technically, it was your day off, but you had been called in by John: "gotta have only the best workers there, it's gonna be a busy day," he had explained, knowing the pay alone would be enough to convince you.

so here you were. you and esme were having to share a desk, taking bets and piling up money for finn to collect so it could be counted and paid out later on.

all together, it was pretty stressful, but it made good money, so none of you were complaining, and by the time the people had finished rolling in from the streets, and money had stopped piling up, you pretty much raced to the Garrison, following John and the group of workers from the betting shop.

sure enough, a few hours later, you found yourself listening to Arthur's slurring words, but watching his younger brother.

safe to say, John was drunk. his hands went out to grab yours when you stood up to go to the bathroom, and be completely missed, grabbing at your legs instead.

tension shot through the bottom half of your body, and although Arthur noticed, and exploded into raucous laughter, he quickly moved on, too intoxicated to really understand anything that was happening.

quick on your feet, you helped john up, playing off the beating of your heart that had gotten considerably faster. his hands grasped at your arms, and you wondered how much he was putting on, especially when you took into account the fact he never ever got this badly affected by alcohol. you were simply overthinking though. John liked women, as he made it very clear to you and his brothers, so he would never implicate himself in such a way on purpose. surely?

"d'ya mind escorting me home? I've heard there's big, bad men in birmingham, wouldn't wanna screw this pretty face up," John ventured, smirking as he played the role and knew you knew what he was doing. flitting to his brothers for only a second, you could see in his eyes he was nervous.

"really? I've heard you're the biggest and baddest of them all," you jabbed back, copying his cocky act, "and no, wouldn't wanna ruin the prettiest face in this half of the country."

although he tilted his head to the side slightly, nerves stunting a laugh into a choked chuckle, you noticed a faint pink spreading across the expanse under his eyes.

"only this half of the country eh? I've cut men for saying less than that," he quickly recovered, spinning his head back to catch your eyes and hold them.

you watched carefully as his fingers found their way to the knife in your pocket. years of habit had never ceased, and ever since your first meeting, your knife could be found in the pocket on your right, close for easy access.

perhaps too easy, as his fingers, cautiously hidden even in the private room by the placement of your two bodies, found their way there to drag it out. something arose in you and you tried to push it away, but the desire for more was overwhelming.

unflinching your jaw and letting out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, you reached for his hand and smiled.

"you're all talk, I wish you'd actually do something about it," you jeered, retrieving your knife and preparing to leave, grabbing on your coat hastily and making for the door, "unless you're too scared of course," you leaned back to whisper in his ear.

hardly making it out the door before you heard his footsteps and goodbyes, you smiled to yourself, caring little for the repercussions for once. you'd finally get what you'd always wanted.

mere seconds later, a strong grasp pulled you into the nearest alleyway and you almost laughed with sheer anticipation. john stood before you in a manner you had never thought you'd be able to witness. it seemed as though every nerve in his body was waiting for you to do something, and even from barely raising your fingertips across his body, he shivered, his eyes searching yours with intent.

"you make me want to sin," dragging his eyes slowly to your lips, you realised exactly what he meant, and with your hands begging to encase his skin, you couldn't quite wait for it any longer.

"don't think I can fight it off much longer," he continued, the space between you suddenely so much smaller than you had remembered.

"then don't."

and there it was. the kiss that changed something so fundamental between you; that showed you what he looked like with love in his gaze and tenderness in his heart; how sweet the forbidden could be.

and perhaps you weren't the only one that felt it, as his hand quietly reached for yours, a silent act of promise.

166 notes · View notes

mauserfrau · 4 years

Text

Eyeshine, Part 1 - Bordertober

HEY KIDS WHO WANTS TO SEE THE TWINS ON THEIR SHIP HEADED TO PANDORA.

IT’S REALLY TINY.

AND THEY’RE HAVING ENGINE TROUBLE.

...or are they?

Lots of Tyreen eating and some other general nastiness from her. Appreciably Claustrophobic.

The jump brought them to a space so empty it didn’t even seem black. No— darkness rested between other stars, far off and distant. Here was a clear nothingness, out of reach of the rest of the universe.

Tyreen drifted at his shoulder. He could feel her fuming.

Neither of them had made much sound since they’d stopped. The lights were low, the gravity still off and wherever they were now, it seemed like there hadn’t been a sound there since the galaxy formed. A word from either of them would disturb this.

Besides, this wasn’t Pandora. This wasn’t even the Pandoran system. Or any system. This was nothing.

“Stars move, you know,” Troy said, fumbling the silence apart.

“It’s only been like twenty years,” insisted Tyreen. “They can’t move that fast. We should at least be able to see it!”

He gestured a spiral with his hand. Did she even care that the star cluster where Nekrotafeyo had grown spun opposite this one, that they were blue-shifting verses each other and that had choked the navigation system? He decided to summarize. “I think the computer’s a little off and umm...”

“Umm what?”

“I might have overcompensated for stellar drift since I ended up doing it manually.”

“Troy!” She made his name sound like she’d broken something. He half-expected a slap.

“Look.” He forced calm into his voice and turned to face her as he spoke.

She was livid, her whole body tense and her hair standing on end.

“We can’t run out of power. We jumped just fine. We have water. We have food. We have a working toilet.”

“And where are we!”

“I’m gonna run an extrapolation and figure that out while the jump drive resets.”

“Can’t you math it in your head?”

“Um.” Sighing, Troy turned back to the view screen, focusing first on the blank reach where their ship rested, then letting his vision float to the stars. The blackness lived between them, but in some strands there was no between, only points of light thick enough to make mist out of each other. “I kinda don’t think so.”

Tyreen groaned and swam off towards the bed.

Tyreen moved better in zero g than he did. Troy was always twisting around to his left to push, pull, founder. Still, he hated to turn the gravity back on. There was something about watching her float above the bed with the covers billowing around her. She seemed so right like that, singular and and easy and in this case put out.

Her Coeus reader was flickering lately. She ended up groaning and setting it loose to float through the cabin where Troy caught it.

She also said— “Hey, turn the heavy back on. I gotta piss.”

“Alright. On three. Three.” Troy threw the switch. His back crunched as weight returned to his spine through the seat at the command console. His sister landed with a thump. Their foodstores yelped and howled and shed feather-forms along the floor. Tyreen caught herself with a huff and pulled herself into the water closet, giving the cage of spindly hexlings a sour look before she shut the door. One of them shrieked after her. Troy shushed it and went back to the console.

The keys pressed easier with weight back in his body. He pulled up the extrapolation program. Another likely set of coordinates failed a final round of testing and ticked away. The system was working to match the spectrographic information of visible stars to known clusters as far as he could tell. Color seemed such a tenuous way to determine place, but that might have been the emptiness intruding on his thoughts more than anything rational. Besides, he kept thinking he had somehow spied the white supergiant that held Pandora out among all the other points of light.

Troy was tempted to ask his sister to try. She was the siren. She might be able to do it if she listened across all the dark matter between them and that place.

She was still in the water closet.

Troy let the extrapolator run in the background and idly tabbed into the superstructure of the ship’s hard drive. It had been made to be piloted by someone with little skill, all of the command icons in welcoming jelly style art with three to four clicks needed to access any functions more complicated than the gravity or the sublight engine speed. He’d picked the interface up fast enough, but modifying the OS to accept a jump drive had been more hours of frustrated keystrokes than any actual handiwork.

Every system responded in good order. He’d done the same check once they’d cleared Nekrotafeyo’s gravity well and before the jump. The only difference was thousands of light years to nowhere and the bottom falling out of his stomach halfway there, not more than a heartbeat.

He even dug into the audio system. If Tyreen asked, he wanted to be able to tell her literally everything was fine.

A handful of loose example recordings bothered the top folder. Troy thought about moving them, but the system considered their poor placement de rigeur and complained when he tried.

Tempted to try, he clicked down the list, which was when he realized: one of them had a different date than the others.

He leaned over a speaker and hit play, curious what had been loaded on this particular sound test file. Since that was probably it.

Instead, he heard Dad say, “Well, if it isn’t my favorite little minx. Yeah, that’s a good girl. Let me see those eyes shine. I love it when you...”

He slammed stop.

There was somebody else on the file too. They were laughing that bubbly way he knew happened, but he barely remembered as something he’d experienced in his own life.

Troy stared at the file. He breathed again.

A thump sounded behind him and Tyreen came tripping out of the water closet, pants around her ankles and her underwear yanked up in her fist. “What the hell was that?”

“Ah, system check. Since we’re here, you know.”

She growled and she sat down right where she was and in the puddle of her pants. “Warn me next time.”

“Your intuition didn’t tip you off?”

Those words didn’t even merit an answer. She closed her eyes and turned her back to him.

The ship was so small he only would have had to lean out of the chair and he could have had his hand on her. She wasn’t in the mood though, not about that, not about anything to do with Dad and definitely not about playing siren anytime before they made planetfall.

And well, then she wouldn’t be playing anymore, would she?

Maybe that fact had settled funny someplace in her stomach. Troy just knew that after a while she stole her Coeus back and stood in the corner, smacking the screen. The extrapolation program ticked off another hundred coordinates that didn’t suit, approaching 50% complete at a crawl.

Tyreen peered over his shoulder, but said nothing about the progress bar.

It looked like half of their chances for finding themselves had been spent. Troy thought it was more of a best match situation.

He wondered what he would do if he was wrong.

The jump drive ticked down to usable quiescence. Tyreen swore and started to get back into bed. Instead she kicked her pants off and stretched out belly-down on the floor which was chalky with the bookmarks of the night they’d left.

It had only been two days. He thought. The active time on the sublight engine monitor was somewhat misleading. Startup had taken so long, but he’d been fumbling all over himself, movements thick with the shock of what he was about to do.

What Tyreen said they were doing.

Like, she just… dragged him. Now?

Now there his sister lay, looking like she’d melted into the ground.

“What’re you staring at?” she muttered without looking up from the well of her arms.

“Mm. Nothing,” Troy murmured. “I was thinking about when we were kids. That game we’d play about not getting off the bed back when we only had the one and...” Well, he thought about that a lot, even though it hadn’t been bothering his mind in that moment.

Tyreen sat up, still hunched over. Her Coeus rattled in her grasp. Eventually, she tipped it into one of the charging slots. “I’m eating now. You want in?”

“Sure.”

Food was something to do anyway. Troy hauled himself out of the chair and got himself into the cupboard after some of the stale rye bread they’d taken from the stores back at the homestead. He checked it for mold and then also took a plum.

Tyreen picked over the cages with a tongs. Did she want manta eggs? A hexling or two? A flush of air coral and sprat? One one of the lonesome baby Djira mewing in their own slime?

She took two eggs.

The two of them hunched together on a sheet of tanned air algae. Troy’s plum was sour, but he sucked the pit clean while Tyreen stared at him. As he reached for the bread, Tyreen shoved one of the eggs at him. “Open it for me.”

Troy sighed. Speaking of games from when they were children— Tyreen could have eaten the egg regardless, but he’d gotten awfully good at spinning the tops off with his knife and one hand. He smiled and he did this for her now, placing the egg on a spare sack so that his sister’s leavings would spread through the ship, get into the Instruments.

The egg squished as she pressed her fingers inside. It turned to dust and glass. “Hmm. That was fresher than I thought.”

“Good. Want me to do the other one too?”

“Sure.”

So, he sliced again. He was going to have to wash his hand before he finished his own super as much as the second egg leaked.

This time, his sister stared at her dirty knees. “Are you sure you didn’t fuck everything up?”

“If I did,” Troy said softly. “Then we’ll deal wi-...”

Tyreen sucked the other egg down, sloppy now, sand leaking between her toes. She grabbed the piece of rye and stuck it in Troy’s mouth before burrowing into the bed and covering her head with the pillow.

Troy chewed thoughtfully and then moved to clean up. The baby Djira chortled in their cages as though night had fallen. Well, it was that time by the engine clock.

#bordertober #border-tober #borderlands 3 #fanfic #fanfiction #Tyreen Calypso #Tyreen being Tyreen #Troy Calypso #Troy Calypso PoV #enclosed spaces #claustrophobia #tags will change #appreciably some shade of horror #i couldn't get a straight answer on how ships are supposed to do ship things so have this #it's a hack sci-fi author blue plate special #oh and they had plums on Nekro in Grimeverse #mostly because I was hungry for plums one day

7 notes · View notes

hazelnmae · 5 years

Text

Lies Travel Faster: Chapter 12

Summary: Sophia Murphy’s life seems to be on the upswing when she takes a job with Birmingham’s notorious Shelby Company Ltd. But when she falls for her boss, CEO and ruthless gangster, Tommy Shelby, she finds herself wrapped up in a tangled web of danger and deceit. After all, lies travel faster than the truth.

Tags: Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character; Tommy/Assistant Trope (it’s a hill I’ll die on)

Warnings: angst; smut; violence; language; rape/non-con; death

The warnings are there, folks, but I feel the need to let you know that this chapter does include explicit mentions to domestic violence.

CHAPTER 12 (read Chapter 11 or start at the beginning with Chapter 1)

Sophie felt his presence before she heard him. She’d come to Arrow House to visit the horses, to get away from the bustle of the city and spend some time in the fresh air. She genuinely thought she wouldn’t see Tommy--assuming she’d be in and out before he returned home. But as soon as she realized he was behind her, she was grateful he’d come earlier than she expected. She needed to see him. Needed to know they were alright.

He cleared his throat as he stood over her.

“Hi,” was all she said, turning slightly and smiling from her seated position.

Tommy sat on the grass beside her, letting out a huff as he lowered himself to the ground. It struck Sophie that Tommy probably didn’t sit on the ground often and she couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of him in the grass, like a small boy. He placed his forearms on his knees and leaned into her shoulder with his own.

“Hi,” he returned, without looking at her.

They sat there, side by side, for longer than either realized. The air started to fall colder as the sun dipped and Sophie finally spoke up.

“I just miss it, you know? And you said I could visit--”

“Yea, I did, and I meant it,” Tommy interrupted. After a few more moments, he made his move to stand again. “Well,” he said, placing his hands on his knees and forcing himself off the ground. “We better get on with it before it’s too late.” He held a hand out to help her up.

They mounted their horses and started on the path back to the house. About halfway through the ride, Sophie pulled ahead and led them on the scenic route, wanting to stay in that moment with him, freely riding, worries behind her, as long as possible.

____________________

Robert was home when she finally entered the house at half ten.

It was late.

She’d stayed far longer than she’d planned, but she’d had a hard time pulling herself back into the reality that awaited her in London.

“It’s about time,” he said from the dark.

Sophie switched on the lights in the parlor to find Robert lazily smoking a cigar, still dressed but a bit disheveled. Clearly he’d been waiting for hours.

“I wasn’t expecting you home,” she said, as she removed her gloves and hat.

“I’m sure you weren’t.”

Sophie chose not to respond to the obvious jab. She wasn’t going to apologize for having spent time with a friend. She was an adult and could make her own decisions. As far as Sophie was concerned, Robert was going to have to find a way to accept her relationship with the Shelby family.

“Did you know he’s running for parliament?” He asked.

“Wha--Who?” she responded, pretending to be uninterested in the information.

Robert just scoffed.

“Thomas fucking Shelby,” he spat. “Can you imagine? Thomas Shelby, MP? Thomas Shelby in the house of fucking commons?”

“Is that really so radical?” Sophie said, crossing the room now and placing a hand on his shoulder. She hadn’t seen her husband in a week and thought he’d have missed her. She opted to play nice--to give him the benefit of the doubt and allow him an opportunity to say the right things. She bent down to give him a kiss on the forehead, but Robert pulled away--almost disgusted by her presence.

“He’s a criminal.”

“Well that’s nothing new,” she continued, reaching for the whiskey on the sideboard. “So are others.”

“He won’t win.” Robert stood and moved toward her.

“Is that a threat?” She asked without turning to see his face.

He moved close enough to whisper in her ear and moved her hair away from her neck. For a moment, Sophie thought it may be a romantic gesture, but that was quickly shattered.

“And just what the fuck does it matter to you, eh?” He asked in her ear, hatefully.

Sophie didn’t react, despite the elevation of her heart rate and the thoughts racing through her mind.

After she didn’t answer, Robert eventually retired upstairs, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

She stayed up for a few more hours, thinking about Tommy. Parliament? She wondered. Why would he keep something like that a secret?

Then it struck her. Perhaps he was using her. Perhaps his reemergence in her life aligned with his plans to take parliament for a reason. Perhaps his interest in her was really an attempt to disarm Robert. She had known him for nearly a year and had seen him do much worse.

But she was tired of constantly doubting him.

______________________

The names and counts roared out through the hall. Sophie waited on a bench at the bottom of the stairs, conflicted. She knew that one side of her, as his wife, should hope for Robert’s victory. But she’d never been particularly drawn to the idea of playing “dutiful wife.” The other side, the louder one, knew Tommy would come out victorious.

“Ronald Carr, Conservative, 3,412. Bernard Hall, Liberal, 4,015. Robert Ross, Communist, 6,406.”

After a pause, she heard it, “Thomas Shelby, Labor Party, 48,564.” Then uproar and celebration.

The doors to parliament swung open and she watched Tommy emerge victorious.

“I now declare Thomas Shelby to be the new Labor Member of Parliament for the constituency of Birmingham South.”

Most of what followed was a blur.

She remembered Tommy descending the stairs, his friends and family following closely behind.

She remembered that he looked different--like he was ready for the challenge she knew he’d be facing. Tommy Shelby was a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them. He had a plan, she was sure of it, she just didn't know what it could be.

She was pulled from her wandering thoughts when she saw Robert. He followed the other candidates, but quickly pushed through the crowd, clearly taking the loss less gracefully than the others. He violently took her hand and pulled her toward the exit.

Sophie caught Tommy's eyes just as she turned to follow her husband. She mentally steeled herself for what was sure to be a difficult evening.

__________________

At first, Ada incorporated the knock into her dream.

She’d fallen asleep on the sofa after wrestling Karl to bed, not ready to admit that she was tired herself at that point. After the knocking grew to a loud banging, however, she could no longer ignore it.

She opened the front door to find Sophie standing in the rain, large hat pulled down over her face and suitcase in hand.

Ada simply moved back and opened the door for Sophie to enter.

This wasn’t the first time she’d ended up on Ada’s doorstep after a fight with Robert, but it was the first time she’d shown up with bags.

They moved into the parlor without saying a word, Ada heading straight for the bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Sophie sat at the small table while Ada poured them each a drink. When she finally removed her hat, Ada slumped into the chair beside her and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Are you’re leaving him?” She asked, nodding to Sophie’s suitcase.

Sophie just nodded and downed the glass of whiskey in one take, hanging her head back in the chair to allow the fiery liquid a full burn all the way down.

“It’s about time,” Ada said.

Ada was fully aware of Robert’s growing temper, Sophie sharing on more than one occasion about how her new husband was growing more aggressive. She hadn’t however, actually seen the remnants of his temper on her friends skin. Sophie was wearing a large gash above her left temple and a small cut on her right cheekbone. A bruise was blossoming there as well.

Ada tipped up the bottle of whiskey, wetting a napkin from the table and pressed it to the cut on Sophie’s head, eliciting a sharp inhale as she did so.

“What was it?” She asked.

“He backhanded me slamming my head into the wall” Sophie responded, explaining the placement of the injuries.

“Bastard.” Ada shook her head.

Sophie’s response was cut short by another knock on the door, but Tommy entered the parlor before Ada could answer it. He entered the room quickly, lecturing her, once again, to keep her door locked. He’d told her many times before that anyone could come into her home if she didn’t lock the fucking door. He entered prepared for a fight but stopped when he saw Sophie sitting at the table, back turned to him.

She recognized his steps and made eye contact with Ada, shaking her head slightly to signal that she didn’t want to talk to him.

She should have known that Tommy would end up at Ada’s house. He’d just won his seat in parliament and had, no doubt, spent the night celebrating at a number of clubs and pubs. She’d gotten lucky that Ada was even home, and not out celebrating as well. She couldn’t be so lucky as to avoid Tommy as well.

“Sophie just stopped by for a quick visit. What do you need, Tommy?” Ada asked, trying to keep his attention from her friend.

Tommy just looked back and forth between them. Of course he knew something wasn’t right. Sophie had no reason to be at Ada’s house so late at night. And she certainly had no reason to ignore him so boldly.

“Turn around,” he said.

But Sophie didn’t.

“Sophie, turn around.”

This time she turned, standing from the chair as she did so and holding her face high.

“Jesus,” he muttered as he closed the distance between them and reached his hand up to her injured cheek.

The bastard had struck her. Had hurt her. That fucker. Sophie watched his expression change from shock to anger.

“Where is he?”

Sophie tried to look away, but Tommy’s hand held her face steady.

“Where the fuck is he, eh? Tell me,” he continued. “Is he home?”

When she still wouldn’t answer him, Tommy just turned on his heel and headed back for the door. He hadn’t removed his coat, so he moved quickly without anything to slow him. Sophie grabbed at his arm and Ada called for him to stop, but he was determined to find Robert and make him pay.

“Tommy please,” Sophie begged as they moved into the hallway toward the door.

Turning and pointing in her face Tommy said, “Don’t you dare defend him, Sophie.”

She held tightly to his arm, and felt his pulse racing.

No one had ever cared for her so fiercely. No one since Henry had vowed to take care of her so unabashedly. For all his flaws, Tommy had kept his promise to protect her, to avenge her, to care for her, always.

“I’m not. I wouldn’t,” she responded. She reached her own hand to his cheek and stroked it softly. “Tommy,” she said, “I’m leaving him”

“Good,” he said and turned back toward the door. He would pay.

“Don’t do this,” she said, desperately trying to hold onto any part of him.

“Tommy, I need you.”

He took her in fully for the first time since walking into the house. Her face was battered, but her resolve was strong.

She really is leaving him, he thought.

“Please,” she begged. “Stay.”

____________________

Chapter 13

I feel like I say it so much, but seriously thank you so much for reading. Feedback is so so so appreciated!!

For you lovelies: @justanothershelby @l0tsofpennies @porcelainjokersmadness @evelynshelby

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fiction #peaky blinders fan fic #peaky blinders fan fiction #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x oc #ada thorne #lies travel faster #HazelNMae

70 notes · View notes

justanoutlawfic · 5 years

Text

Where You Lead: Here Comes The Son Pt. I

Summary: Henry and Jacinda have dinner with their estranged son.

Based on a prompt by @queen-of-the-merry-men, surrounding Henry and Mat having a falling out that lasts a couple of years. This takes place when Mat is 27, Henry is 49.

Also on AO3

Quiet.

That was still something that Henry was getting used to.

After 22 years of having the triplets under their roof, with the addition of little Wren coming later on, he wondered if he ever would get a moment’s peace. If there’d ever be a time where the girls weren’t arguing over who’s sweater belonged to whom or reprimanding Mat for sneaking in late. There were no more sounds of Barney or the Magic School Bus, the only toys were for their grandchildren when they came by. Family dinners were held at Belle’s, so the only times things ever got loud were when they had the occasional one there.

Still, though, he never regretted stopping at three. He loved his kids, but coming home to his sexy wife and having it just be them was pretty damn nice too.

“Honey, I’m home,” he called out, jokingly.

Jacinda’s laugh boomed from the kitchen, poking around the corner. “Hey babe. How was work?”

“Good. We got everything together on time.”

“Do you ever not?”

“No, but you know me…”

“Wren Gold’s grandson?”

Henry flashed her a sad smile, looking at the entry way wall. It had the last family picture they would ever take, that would actually be complete. His grandfather stood front and center, his hand firmly on his cane. His hair was grey, there were tons of wrinkles, but he also had his namesake and great-great-grandchild on his hip and was smiling. Neal and Henry stood on either side of him, wearing matching suits, fulfilling the eldest Gold man’s lifelong dream. The triplets were in the front, lined up in a row with Melody beside Lucy. Alba and Gideon were also side by side, Emma and Belle not far behind with Gideon’s husband, Roderick and Alba’s wife, Raven with their respective kids. Neal and Emma’s other kids took up the space on the bottom, showing just how much their family had grown over the years and that DNA truly didn’t mean a damn thing.

None of them could’ve imagined that just a few short months later, Wren would be gone. To Henry, he was immortal. Some kind of never aging God that could withstand anything. Sure, he had become a grandfather young and a great-grandfather not much older and that might have had something to do with it, but he just seemed to be there for everything. He saw Henry graduate high school, then college. Then, Wren had done the same for his great-grandchildren, supporting whatever they had wanted to do. Henry knew realistically that he wouldn’t live to see Xiomara’s daughter grow up, but he lived in ignorant bliss.

He made it to 90 years old, before they found out about his heart. There were treatments and no expense was spared, but ultimately, he was gone. Wren’s spirit left the world, leaving his family to mourn the heavy loss.

Henry shook it off, walking closer to his wife. “What’s for dinner? Anyone stopping through?”

“No, it’s just us. I’m making empanadas,” Jacinda said, kissing him once he reached the kitchen. “Lucy called, she and Mel are going to drop Sebastian off here tomorrow. It’s their anniversary.”

“Sounds good to me, they haven’t been out since he was born.”

“Exactly. Xo texted, Wren’s so excited for her first day of school.”

Henry grinned; he couldn’t believe his granddaughter was old enough for school. “That’s great. She’s going to be so smart. She’s a Tremaine-Cassidy-Gold after all.” He started walking to the fridge, opening it to grab a water.

“Also…Mat called.”

He froze, his hand hovering over the water. “Huh?”

“He um…said he has some news.”

“Oh.” Henry’s hand floated from the water over to the beer, grabbing one. “Wonder what it could be.” He cracked open the beer and took a long swig.

Jacinda sighed. “I don’t know, Henry, but he’s reaching out. That’s good, right?”

“Right, right. I’m glad he knows what a phone is.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Henry. Don’t. You are just as much at fault for what’s going on between you two.”

“Me?!? I’m not the one who…” He trailed off when he saw the look on his wife’s face, sighing. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to take this out on you. I know all of this has been hard on you and Mat’s relationship.”

Jacinda took a few steps forward, putting her hands on his hips. “This could be the start of something,” she whispered. “Maybe it’s an olive branch. Maybe you two can finally talk it out.”

“Maybe,” Henry mumbled. He would be lying if he said he didn’t miss his son. God, he missed him. More than anything he wished Wren was still around so he could talk to his grandfather about what he went through those first 10 years of his life when Neal barely spoke to him. “When are we seeing him?”

“He wants to take us out to eat, Hugo’s.”

Henry gave a weird look. “Of course…willing to drop money…”

“Henry!”

“I’m going to be nice! I promise!”

“Good.” Jacinda turned back to her cooking. “Because this is a good thing.”

“A good thing,” Henry echoed, his eyes traveling to the fridge. Like the walls in their house, it was a shrine to their family. There was a picture of him and Mat, on his son’s prom night. He had helped him get ready, just as Neal had with him. They had so much fun, laughing and talking about his plans for the night. They once had such a great relationship. Things had gone wrong so long before “the incident” and he didn’t understand how.

***

Hugo’s was a place that Wren and Belle probably would’ve dragged them to once upon a time. High prices, tiny portions and a dress code. Men wore jackets, women were encouraged to be in skirts. A man played classical piano, the same tune throughout the night. It was the exact scene that one would expect from a Yale graduate. Yet, Henry had spent most of his time in places like Granny’s, in his jeans no less. Now, he was wearing a suit and tie, while Jacinda wore a nice dress, her hair curled.

“Mom, Dad!”

They turned to find Mat headed their way, a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach the eyes. Henry had noticed that a lot the older his son got. He wore a suit-probably designer-and had his dark hair slicked down. At one point, he had curls that he inherited from both sides of his family, but he hardly let those show. When he leaned in to kiss Jacinda’s cheek, Henry could smell his overpowering cologne.

“Hey baby,” Jacinda said, her voice light and happy. “You look great.”

“Me? Look at you! Smoking, Mom, truly.” He chuckled before turning to smack five with his dad. “Dad.”

Henry couldn’t believe Mat was acting as if nothing had happened, and yet, that seemed exactly like him. “Matias. It’s good to see you.”

“You too. Come sit. I’ve got the best seat in the house.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

Mat and the hostess lead them over to a table by the window, a tad more private than the hustle and bustle of the busy middle. Henry watched as his son smiled and nodded to some people on the way to the table, clearly colleagues and partners.

Taking after his father and grandfather, Mat had gone to an Ivy League school-though he had opted for Stanford. Getting a scholarship and other aid, he had pulled off a miracle by barely needing to borrow any money from his great-grandfather. While there, he had helped develop an app with some friends. It didn’t go very far, but with that experience, he was able to get a great job at a software development company in Manhattan.

“So, how’s Tiffany?” Henry asked, settling down to look at the menu. He had to do his best to not bulge his eyes at the prices. Wren Gold was his grandfather, but he had been raised on McDonalds and Kraft mac & cheese.

Mat’s brows furrowed. “Broke up years ago, Dad.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that. She was nice.” The truth was, Henry had met her probably twice before Wren died. She was a skinny red head, who wore a diamond necklace to Granny’s and worried about getting mugged in front of Old Man Twickam’s house.

“Right…”

Jacinda cleared her throat, keeping a smile on her face. “So, Matty, how’s business?”

“It’s going great. We’ve been developing a new software for a medical company these past few months, so it’s taken up most of my time,” Mat explained, that not-smile returning. “And you? Xo told me that you expanded the daycare.”

Henry listened to the two of them talk about Jacinda’s new business, but only half-heartedly. Eventually the waitress came over, and Mat took over the ordering. Henry barely recognized the son in front of him. Growing up, Mat had been shy, a bit of a recluse. In fact, he reminded Henry a lot of himself. Lucy and Xiomara were very active, taking stands for what they believed in. Mat ended up making a core group of friends in high school, but this charming, charismatic, flirt had emerged from college.

“Now that we have that out of the way,” Mat said once the waitress walked off. “Let’s get to my news.”

“Yes, your mother said it was quite big.”

Mat nodded. For once, the smile slipped and he looked a bit serious. “I know I haven’t exactly been the world’s best uncle.”

“You were in college when Wren was born,” Jacinda assured him. “And Sebastian just came along. There’s time.”

“Well, I want to do more, be there.”

Henry tilted his head. “Are you moving back to Stars Hollow?”

“Oh no. However, I have been talking to Nana Belle a lot lately. She’s doing well, but with the twins out of the house, married and all, Pop-Pop’s place is just getting to be too big for her.”

Henry and Jacinda nodded. Belle had mentioned that at one of the last family dinners. She had been looking into purchasing their vacation home on the Cape full time, but wasn’t sure what to do with the house. It had been Wren’s first step away from Malcolm. Emma and Neal didn’t need it much either, even the kids they had adopted were grown and they only took in emergency placements, focusing on the inn now that Granny had passed. The rest of the family either had no use for it or couldn’t afford it.

“She wants to keep the house in the family, so she’s offered to sell it to me.”

Jacinda’s grin only widened. “Well, I think that’s great.”

Henry frowned. “But what about your job?”

“I can commute to the city. It’s only an hour, by car or train.”

“It’s far too big for you by yourself.”

“Well, hopefully one day I’ll be able to fill it with kids like Pop-Pop and Nana Belle did.”

Henry didn’t say anything further, he just sipped on his water. He could feel the anger inside of him building. Deep down, he knew that he should be happy that the house was staying in the family, but of all the people for it to go to…

He didn’t say much else as the night went on. Instead, Henry focused on his tiny portions, disgusting wine and half-listened to Jacinda’s questions about the move, him selling his loft on the Upper East Side and more. As he sat there, he realized that he had so much anger to his son, a boy that once lit up his heart and made him smile like no one else could. Now, he was just so disappointed and no matter how hard he tried…he just couldn’t shake it.

Eventually, the dinner came to an end. Henry was irritated, tired, buzzed and still hungry. Mat paid the check and kissed his mom’s cheek, before patting his dad on the back. He said he’d be in touch, but in the meantime, he had to get back into the city due to an “early morning”. Jacinda handed Henry the valet tag, asking him to grab the car while she went to the bathroom.

Henry made his way outside, handing the tag to the employee. As he stood there waiting, he noticed Mat was there as well, fiddling with a cigarette.

“They always take forever,” he mumbled when he saw his father. “Great food, shit valet.”

“Surprise you grace them with your presence,” Henry muttered.

Mat chuckled, taking a drag. “Ya know, most fathers would be glad that their sons would be moving closer, but you?” He shook his head. “Only you would be upset.”

“I’m not upset, Mat.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not.” He turned to his son. “I just don’t get why you’re interested in the house of the man that you couldn’t bother to come to the funeral for.”

Mat’s lips drew a firm line. “I thought we could get past this.”

“How?” Henry felt his body trembling. “Do you know what Grandpa meant to me? He put me through school, both prep and college. Without him, I probably wouldn’t have met your mother, you kids wouldn’t even be here.”

“I’ve heard the stories, Dad.”

Henry continued as if he hadn’t heard him. “I went to him for advice for so much. He was there for me, but most importantly, for all of you kids. He and Belle took you and your sisters on vacations, sleepovers, all of that. He loved you so damn much…and what do you do? You skip his funeral to attend a business trip in Tokyo.”

Mat bit his lip. “Dad…”

“But hey, don’t worry. At least we got fucking flowers, huh?”

Mat exhaled, letting out some of the smoke he had just let in. He stared forward for a few minutes, the only sounds being the ambient noises of the restaurant behind them and the cicadas chirping in the warm, Connecticut summer air.

“We’re doing this, huh?” Mat asked, and Henry realized he was talking to himself. “I guess we are.” He dropped the cigarette and fully faced his dad. “I talked to Pop-Pop ever day leading up to his death, ever since he got sick. I called him every single day, if I couldn’t see him in person that was.”

Henry folded his arms over his chest. “Okay?”

“You said he paid for your school, but you know he paid for mine too right? What I couldn’t. He also was the one person I could go to, for anything. He was my outlet, for my entire life.”

Henry felt his face fall and his muscles loosen. “What…what are you talking about?”

“Dad…did you ever stop to consider that I never told you what I wanted to be when I grow up?”

He paused for a moment. “When you were 5…you said you wanted to be a fireman.”

“I mean, seriously. As a teenager, you could tell that Xiomara wanted to be a lawyer, and that Lucy wanted to go into photography. But did you even know that I was interested in tech?”

“You never told me.”

“Did you ever ask?”

Henry fumbled over himself. “Well…I…” He trailed off. “We talked, about a lot of stuff.”

“I’m not denying that we did. You’d ask how my day was, but beyond “Good”, how much did you really hear?”

Henry’s mouth dropped open. No, this wasn’t true. He knew his kids; he knew all of them. They all had a great relationship with one another, or at least they had before his son became a total snob obsessed with himself.

“This is ridiculous. We had a good relationship, Mat. Up until you went to college, we were close. Then you got on this high horse and it was hard to get you down.”

Mat scoffed. “Right, of course that’s how you see it.”

A black Cadillac, resembling his grandfather’s way too much, pulled up and the valet stepped out. Mat handed the guy some cash and walked over to the door, looking up at his dad.

“It was good seeing you, Dad. Say hi to Xiomara and Lucy for me.”

He got into the car and drove away. Henry stood in the dust, feeling a mix of anger, confusion and mostly hurt.

#where you lead verse #glass believer #henry mills #ella mills #jacinda vidrio #mat cassidy #ouat #once upon a time

4 notes · View notes

mysticsparklewings · 5 years

Photo

Fly By Moon

I guess I'm a painter now? I've been kind of on a roll with the painting stuff in general lately, but in particular diligent Sparklers of mine may remember I recently posted Starfall Mountains, where I tried out some super cheap acrylic paints after the "Acrylic Paint Itch" started up in my brain. After that experience, I was pretty eager to find some better quality paints and hopefully have a much better time with it. I ultimately ended up with a set of Liquitex Basics paints, after having an internal turmoil between getting those or the Arteza Acrylic paints. (Since for my purposes and circumstances both sets would've worked out to about the same price.) Ultimately, I went with Liquitex because I've seen a lot of people say that the Arteza acrylics dry really quickly, even for acrylic paint which is known for drying fast anyway. So in order to use them, I would've most likely needed to also purchase a blending medium to mix with them so I'd have more time to blend things properly, and at the time I was making the paint purchase I didn't really feel like making the additional investment when I could just get another set of paints that I could, in theory, use straight out of the tube. And admittedly when going to purchase a set of "beginner" but since nice quality acrylics, I was already a little biased towards the Liquitex Basics line because I've heard it recommended by a couple of art Youtubers that I follow that have greater knowledge of acrylic painting than I. Either way, I may still end up with the Arteza acrylics at some point yet since I unexpectedly ended up getting both a bottle of blending medium and an airtight/keep-your-paints-wet-longer palette anyway so them drying quickly now wouldn't be the problem it originally would've been. (And if my experiences with their products have taught me anything it's that sometimes you just have to test them out yourself to see if they're going to work for you or not, regardless of what everyone else is saying) But we'll see. But back to the here and now. Shortly after I got the paints, we were visited by a Luna Moth, and overnight she attracted a mate. They stayed together for a day, and then the next morning he was gone but she was not. Another night and she had laid her eggs, and then she was gone. It is a simple story, but I thought it was cute. And it gave me some references photos to use for my first painting! I've had some 8"x10" canvases laying around waiting to be used for the last half of forever, and so I grabbed one of those and got to work. Originally I had to figure out what I was going to do as far as a few logistics go; For one thing, acrylics are much easier to work with if you do the background first and work your way forward so that you can blend the bigger areas without having to work around your subject. So I had to figure out what I was going to do for transfer paper to get my sketch of Mrs. Luna Moth on top of A. Canvas and B. mostly Black paint. In the end, I ended up using some graph paper with a pale green Faber Castell gelato scribbled on the back of it, which actually worked really well, so if you have some gelatos and thin paper but not proper transfer paper, that might be something worth trying sometime. I did the background with a mixture of the two blacks in the set (Mars black which is more opaque and Lamp black which is more transparent), a light purple color, and a muted yellow kind of color. I was trying to go for the illusion of texture without having to actually commit to painting out individual sections of the black tarp the moth was sitting on in my reference photo. I wanted to get to the fun part of painting the moth, not spend an eternity trying to get a semi-realistic tarp background texture when it's not even the main focus. And to some extent, I think that's one of my bigger problems with acrylics paints, in general, is that you often have to commit way more time to small details or normally less important features like the background and textures and stuff because at this point it's more or less expected of the medium. And it's just that it's highly uncommon to do a subject on canvas and leave the background largely blank, unlike more traditional paper or digital drawings. Acrylic painting, by comparison, is a much bigger commitment as to how far you're willing to go to flesh out the piece and bring up to "acrylic painting standards." And I'm usually really not into that idea. But I can ponder with myself on that issue and potential ways to remedy it later. Anyway, once I was mostly satisfied with what I'd accomplished with the background, which consisted of a lot of "put paint on, cover it up, blend it out," repeated several times over (and yes I know this is not a very tarp-like end result but I was tired of messing with it), I used my faux-transfer paper to get my moth lines up there and then began the more satisfying part of the painting. In this instance, I was able to use the more transparent qualities of certain colors to my advantage, since when you really study the reference photo I was using, it's clear that the Luna Moth's wings aren't fully opaque, especially over the black. So I went in with varying mixtures of this pale bright green color, white, and using some of the light purple I'd used in the background to make a very pale gray color for some dimension on the wings. I also used some water to keep the paint fluid and to thin it out to be more transparent on occasion when I needed to. My process for most areas was to decide on what the base color seemed to be in the photo, get that down and some of the larger/more notable areas of shading, and then go back and start to fill in the shading on top. Which I feel like is the standard way of working with acrylics, but I could be wrong. The hardest part (minus the background, which I did end up touching up a bit after the moth herself was finished) was actually the little eyelets on her wings, mostly just because of how much tiny detail there is to them in comparison to the rest of the painting. But with a very thin paintbrush, much patience, and a few back-and-forth layers of certain colors, I did mostly manage it. The shapes for the top wing eyelets are a little wonky, though even in my reference photo (because of the angle) they are noticeably asymmetrical from each other. Also, the partial eyelet on the bottom I tried to add a bit of shading to, but it's such a small space I'm sure it's still not quite right. I blocked out her top wings and did them and her body peaking between the wings first, then waited for that to dry down some before moving to her bottom wings, then went back to do some details and shading on the top. While they were drying, I did her head and that rust-colored bar along the top of her wings. Then I did the shading and details on her bottom wings, then shading and details on the wing bar & head. I saved the eyelets for last and mostly covered up their original placement markings in the process since I knew that was going to be a lot of tiny detail I didn't want to have to try and work around so I wouldn't mess them up. And at the very end, I added the faint yellowish lines near the edges of her wings with the metallic gold that came in the set, as the metallics are all a little on the transparent side and that seemed like a better, more subtle choice than trying layer on or mix exactly the right color with the non-metallic paints. Plus, it adds a nice little bit of interest when you move the painting in the light; and I added a thin layer to her antennae since they're roughly the same color as the pure gold anyway. I tried my best in both sketch and paint to stay true to my little moth friend's form, but her bottom wings did come out a little short both times and some details either had to be adjusted or lost due to my inexperience with acrylics (for example, I did the best I could with the shape of her antennae since I only had a paintbrush so small to work with and it still wasn't quite small enough for the teeny tiny fluffy bits). Despite that, I still think she came out really nicely. She's not super realistic, but she's not super cartoony either, and I think I like that look. Also if you decide to look really closely there may be spots of not-great canvas coverage of places where the canvas texture sticks out too much or something; This would be because I couldn't find it in me to wait until I could get a bottle of gesso (especially because gesso is often some expensive stuff), I couldn't find my bigger bottle of cheap white acrylic to do a stand-in base coat with that, and my internet research turned up no good alternatives I already had on hand. So I just forgoed the priming and went right to painting, which allegedly from what I've seen is a viable option, at least for acrylics and better quality level paints. It seems to be the priming is more "necessary" for oils and/or really cheap paints that may not have great consistency in the first place. (Although I've mentioned before that even then I've seen a lot of stuff that presents the idea of priming with gesso as more optional when you're working on canvas anyway, so...) I will also say that these Liquitex paints seemed to dry slower than I expected on the canvas; I didn't have to use one single drop of that blending medium I mentioned earlier, or spray the canvas with water to slow it down. I actually spent more time than I thought I would waiting around for layers to dry because I've been too chicken to bother with a hairdryer or heat gun to speed these or my watercolor paints up just yet. I don't know if I've had a skewed perception of acrylics all this time or the drying time is similar to cheap watercolors so I'm used to it already or if these particular paints just dry a little more slowly or what, but I'm beginning to regret one of my counts against acrylics having perpetually been that they dry too quickly. So far at least, that's seeming to not be that big of a deal. (Also, if oils dry as infinitely more slowly as I've been led to believe then I need to never oil paint because I will be so ridiculously impatient by the end of it from waiting for things to dry!) I'm not terribly sure how often I'm going to be acrylic painting from now on or even what my next one is going to be, but I have the supplies and intend on getting my money's worth out of them, and I definitely want to experience more with acrylics in general after these new experiences and realizations I've had with them. So we'll see how that turns out in the long-run for me in due time, I suppose. ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble | Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

2 notes · View notes

johnthestitcher · 5 years

Photo

QUILT # 15 - DRUNKARD’S PATH BASKET BLOCKS - ORIGINAL DESIGN

Pieced but unquilted quilt top

Size: 86” x 106”

Please see my archives for more quilts, quilting, hoops, wall hangings, and more!

The history of this quilt top is over thirty years in the making.

During February 1983, I was snowed into the New Jersey home of my friend and fellow quilter Richard Zimmerman. There was a block contest for basket blocks at the “World of Quilts #4” in Somers, NY, a show we both usually attended, driving in from opposite directions to meet there. We sat down with pencils and erasers and scribbled away, trying to come up with something original. Basket quilts can be pretty boring.

For some unknown reason, I decided to play around with Drunkard’s Path blocks which have an inside curve that I could piece quicker by hand than machine. After some experimentation I came up with a basket hung on the square (that means a square hanging from one point, diamond style.) It would have an appliquéd handle, and not all of the squares (sixteen three-inch squares in a twelve-inch block) would be Drunkard’s Path pieces. It seemed so simple that I came up with three different versions of it that could utilize striped fabric cut on the bias to simulate basket weaving. That was as far as I got with it during that snowstorm. Richard would use the design to make a block for me and enter it under my name. Both our blocks were chosen for the quilt to be made of the contest winners, and since the blocks were made of coordinated browns (Richard adores tiny prints as a foil to my usual theatrical splashes of color), the two blocks were placed side-by-side at the bottom of the finished quilt.

Somewhere about the time of the making of the Double Wedding Ring quilts I started formulating a quilt top design using the blocks. I originally came up with a top of thirty baskets alternating with twenty muslin squares and eighteen muslin half-blocks, and originally rejected it as ‘too formal.’ I changed my mind, however, when I found a plastic quilting stencil of a basket that would fit into the plain square, maintaining the basket theme throughout. I started looking around and found I had quite a collection of blue fabrics. I was preparing designs for a “Jesse Tree” - another all-blue quilt that never materialized, and I had many left over blue scraps from the making of quilt #14. I decided to make the variations on my baskets. I started cutting the blues and the muslin and as I had done many times before – packaged them in small plastic zipper bags. I started working on them in my spare time – thirty blocks are a lot to make by hand. I know I did not find a lot of time to work on them. For three weeks in September 1985 and 1986, I pieced blocks while working at the Eastern States Exposition in West Springfield, Massachusetts, where I was working as the stage manager for the Ronald McDonald Show and pieced probably one square a day, including the ironing and appliqueing the handles down. It was how I whiled away the time I had alone, since I was stuck there at night while everyone else partied. It seemed as though piecing the blocks was unending.

In May of 1986, I took a vacation to San Francisco and brought blocks with me to piece while flying or whenever I had some down time (carrying a scissors on board a plane was an allowable thing in 1986.) I remember that I had three or four blocks pieced and in their bags in my shoulder bag, and my host and I stopped to eat at a restaurant in Chinatown. We had a nice lunch and took home the rest in those cardboard containers – which leaked all over the contents of my shoulder bag! The blocks were a total loss, so I threw them away rather than try to wash the liquids out. When I returned home I re-cut more blocks to replace them.

Sometime in the winter of 1986 (after spending the summer in professional theatre) I must have finished piecing all the blocks and remember laying them all out on the floor to decide on the placement for color and for the best placement of the three styles of baskets. I had the muslin blocks and half-blocks all cut out and pinned the top into long diagonal rows, numbering each one. I did complete the individual rows and started to assemble them into a top, starting on two opposite corners and joining them in longer and longer rows. I knew I would probably never find the time to hand quilt this quilt and spent some time trying to locate a quilting society or church group that I could pay to complete the top for me the way I wanted it finished once I finished piecing it.

As I wrote the above notations, it was late January 2005 and the unfinished top is still folded up carefully, with pins still in place, a spool of thread and the plastic quilting stencils still in the bag. This top had never been completed. In May 2005, about two weeks after my fiftieth birthday, The Quilt Project was 98% completed; all I needed was a picture of one of the hoops and a picture of this unfinished # 15 top. I opened the folded top up to see just how far it actually was complete; it was not as complete as I had remembered. There were still two diagonal rows of sixteen blocks to be completely assembled. There were five long diagonal seams and the top would finally be completed. Should I attempt to finish the piecing for old times’ sake– twenty years later? Did I want to revisit the past one last time? I sat down and had a long think. There would be approximately forty-four feet of hand stitching – one needle-full at a time. Most of the tools I would have used – the bent needles, the quilter’s thimble - who knows where they went in twenty years? What happened to my Japanese quilting needles? I never threw anything away (the fact that this top stayed preserved for twenty-plus years is testament to that.) The last time I did piecing was pre-bi & trifocals – could I still piece this top without going blind? There is still a box of still shining silk pins in the parcel. There is even the spool of thread I was using – with a 69-cent price tag with a used, threaded needle stuck into it. I still have the ball of beeswax for the thread in my sewing stuff. I wonder how my arthritic hands will deal with this type of work.

I decided to finish piecing this top. In late April 2011 I started to hand-piece the last two rows together, spurred on by having created a quilt and two wall hangings between January and April (and designing two other wall hangings!)

I am seeking a quilter to quilt the top (for a reasonable price).

8 notes · View notes

sun-spirit-evolution · 7 years

Text

Architypes in Astrology II

So I spent some time writing up the second half of this blog, only to have the entire thing disappear when I went to schedule the post. Hopefully I do not miss much of what I had written, and I apologize if I do because there was some insightful stuff there. That being said, on with the lesson…

Every chart holds 12 houses in astrology, and each house outlines an area of progress in the life of the protagonist (the protagonist in the case of examining your own natal chart being you). The bottom half of the chart (houses 1-6) represent the self and the inner world (or soul). The top half of the chart (houses 7-12) represent the outer world or other (or the collective). Now let us peer into the journey of the natal chart by examining the architypes of the houses.

The Houses

FIRST HOUSE The first house represents self-actualization. In the journey of life, it is here we begin to develop and discover our personalities through action. The sign governing this house is known as the rising sign, and it is the veil through which we express our planets. It is the physical body; one’s approach to life; discovering one’s individual way; and the natural persona that is seen by others.

SECOND HOUSE The second house is where we begin to determine what is valued through tangible things, and the truth of how these effect our sense of self-value. It is resources; values; material security; possessions; the experience of nature and connection to the earth; sensual enjoyment of material things; productivity and expenditure; self-confidence or lack of; and proving one’s self (or proving one’s value).

THIRD HOUSE The third house represents the stage where through our questionings, we are able to gain understanding of the relationships between things, as well as our relationship to these things. It is the rational mind; the exchange of information; all forms of language and communication; learning; shock; the unexpected; improvisation; and reaction.

FOURTH HOUSE The fourth house is where we find our sense of emotional security that comes from our deep inner-self. It is our inner world; the home; one’s personal roots; family and emotional security; the private; the need for domestic tranquility; the experience of community; radical commitment; and traditionally represents the mother.

FIFTH HOUSE The fifth house is our need to creatively express who we are (our ego) to the world. It is all forms of creativity and self-expression; the projection of self onto the stage of life; the sense of identity; energy expenditure and vitality; the need for pleasure; play; love affairs; courtship; traditionaly represents children; and performance. SIXTH HOUSE The sixth house is where we begin to analyse the self in order to heal existing wounds. It is through healing we learn self love, and are able to express the ultimate versions of ourselves. To be our best for others, we must first become the best ourselves. Before we can love others, we must learn to love ourselves. This is the last house transitioning from the self to the other, from the inner to the outer. It is the developement of efficiency and proficiency through engaging the practical; material challenges posed by the world; the refinement of self-expression; duties and skills; mentoring and being mentored; the urge to be competent; helpfulness; everyday work; habbits and hobbies; and self-sufficiency.

SEVENTH HOUSE The seventh house is our first experience with the other and the outer world. It is our first taste of seeing ourselves reflected by another. It is all forms of close relationships; coming to awareness through others; intamicy; commitment; relationships based on equality; negotiation; and compromise.

EIGHTH HOUSE The eighth house is where we experience deep union with others. If thinking in terms of romance, it is the phase of the relationship in which the honeymoon is over and the deep, dark truths of the other, and in extension the self, are revealed. It is through these revelations that we experience the beauty of transformation. It is all forms of union: emotional, sexual, financial; the challenge of merging with another in relationship; transformation; issues of power and control; the expereince of ego-death and dying; social taboos; the occult; the repressed and perinatal unconscious; regenration of the self through experiencing the values of the other; others’ resources, money and possessions; instincts; wounds; everything psychologically charged; sexual bonding; and in the words of Steven Forrest, “the house that makes you make animal noises.” That is to say, noises that are universally understood, such as sighs, screams and moans. *wink*

NINTH HOUSE In the ninth house we journey in the search for answers to our new truths, and in doing so generate philosophies about ourselves, others and the world. If we remain open in our quest, great wisdom is revealed. It is the relationship of the self to the wider world; meaning and world view; gaining a broader perspective on one’s life through travel, study, and living abroad; the exposure to different cultural perspectives; the search for one’s own truth-philosophy; higher education and learning; values; and life as a quest.

TENTH HOUSE The tenth house is the outer world (or collective) and the paradigm that governs it. It is our first experience of integrating ourselves within the paradigm, finding our place in the collective, and leaving our mark. It is worldy acheivement; personal and professional ambition; one’s public role and public life; the social persona; one’s contribution to the collective through a particular vocation or calling; reputation; and traditionally represents the father.

ELEVENTH HOUSE The eleventh house is where we wish to liberate from constraints. This is the stage, that through the connection of mind and heart, we come to understand that unique part of ourselves that is an aspect of creation, and what its purpose is within the collective. It is the working toward this realization with a sense of non-attachment as to how we may be perceived, that new social structures, groups and paradigms are built. It is one’s individual purpose within the larger collective or social group; participation in movements; associations and groups with common aims; the social circle and groups of friends; goals; strategies; development over time; allies; tribal experience; teamwork; and networking.

TWELFTH HOUSE The twelfth house is the final stage of our journey before we begin again. If the eleventh house is liberation, the twelfth is transendence. It is where we take all of our knowledge and healing, and we finally see the larger picture that was once clouded. It is the point we see through illusion, we see ultimate truths, and through non-attachment we are able to experience unconditional love of not only the self, but the other/collective as well. It is transcendece or dissolution of the ego; mysticism and personal sacrifice; acting as a conduit or vessel of the transpersonal or the collective unconscious; myth; dreams; fantasy; arts and imagination; isolation; withdrawal; the growth of awareness through solitude or privation; spiritual life and behind the sences activities; the hidden; institutions in which the ego is rendered powerless; the end of a cycle and beginning of a new one; returning to the cosmic womb; the dimension of life “beyond” our world; release; psychic experience; and necessary losses.

Now you are equipped with some of the architypes surrounding the houses. If you cross-reference these with my previous post speaking to the architypes of the signs, you will be able to have a greater understanding of how the houses influence your planets, and how the signs influence the houses. You will also notice patterns or similarities between the signs and houses they govern.

To give an idea on how to interpret someone’s planets, let us use the sun in Virgo in the ninth house. Someone with this placement could be seen as a person who garners joy from learning (ninth house) about the self (the sun). If we go one step further, through analysis of the self (sun in Virgo), this person is able to find answers which contribute to their philosophies of themselves and how they relate to the world (ninth house). If we wish to go even further by incorporating partnering signs/houses, this person will come by these answers by first questioning (third house) illusions (Pisces) they hold about themselves. Upon seeing the reality (Virgo) of these illusions, and analysing the wounds caused by them in order to heal them, they are able to create new philosohpies for and of the self, and gain a greater wisdom of themselves and their relation to the collective. If we wished to go even further, we can begin to look at how Sagittarius and Gemini square Virgo and Pisces, which create challenges and can show wounds that need to be addressed in the chart. We can also address the need to communicate these philosophies, and the need to help others on their life’s journey through their learnings. We can also look at how aspects to the sun influence the expression of that planet, and so on and so forth. I will leave it as is for now, as I would like to move on the partnering signs in my next entry, but you can see how complex and in depth astrology can really get. Far more deep than you cry a lot because you are a Cancer, or you will marry rich because your venus is in your tenth house (I wish though).

If you are daring enough to expose yourself to the world, or at least the community that is tumblr (eleventh house in action!), leave a comment below with an interpretation of one of the planets from your natal chart. And just so we are even, the example above is from my own chart.

Until next time, keep learning and growing.

#astrology #houses #zodiac signs #zodiac #natal chart #architypes #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #houses architypes horoscope transits

986 notes · View notes

claroquequiza · 7 years

Note

Oops someone else asked about Hanzo's anxiety attack commentary! How about when he tells McCree underneath the trees what he believes his fate is?

Oh My

The click of the deadbolt was audible even over the four or five meters between Hanzo and the door, a detail he automatically filed away as a potential warning or prompt for anyone monitoring the main entrance as he stiffened just as automatically. The door opened slowly, and it did indeed reveal the cowboy, dressed in dark blue jeans and a red and white plaid flannel shirt with long sleeves rolled up to the elbow and partially untucked to ineffectually hide the belt buckle gleaming on his waist. His hair, uncorralled for once by the hat held limply at the cowboy’s side, framed his face, surprisingly long and lanky and dark in the shade.

Jack roughed up Jesse a little while tearing him a new one. Not really, but you wouldn’t know it by your appearance, Jesse.

Hanzo had, once again, expected anger to be contorting the cowboy’s face, and once again he was surprised. There was a strange mix of determination and nervousness badly hidden just under the surface of his eyes when they found his own. They stared at each other for a few moments before the cowboy stepped out of the safehouse, letting the door swing closed on its own with a loud thud. Hanzo could not help a slight twitch of an eyebrow as the noise bounced off the surrounding walls a couple of times, but the cowboy paid little heed as he ambled slowly forward, coming to a stop a couple of meters away, just shy of where Hanzo would have been forced to start looking up at him.

The cowboy studied his face for a few moments. Hanzo kept it as blank as possible.

The cowboy took in a deep breath, let it out in a whoosh, and turned away slightly, pressing his hat to his hip with a metal hand while running the other whole hand through his hair. He shook his head slightly and bit his bottom lip. Hanzo watched it all with slightly narrowing eyes. Finally, he turned back and, gesturing at the ground with his free hand, said, “Mind if I sit for a spell?”

LOL, I love how McCree is supposed to apologize here, and he knows he’s gotta, but damn it, people have done all sorts of things waaaay nicer than carrying him to a medic after they assaulted him, and a lot of them ended up having awful motivations. How can he possibly expect better from Shimada?!

Hanzo blinked slowly. The cowboy made no move, even as the silence dragged on for a few beats. An actual request, then. Unusual. He shook his head slightly, and the cowboy nodded back as he dropped down to the ground. At first he let his legs carelessly sprawl out in front of him, but after a moment he seemed to reconsider and folded them into a loose cross-legged position, his hat in his lap and his hands on his knees, despite how uncomfortable the position must have been as his jeans rode up slightly to reveal the cowboy boots.

Hanzo wrinkled his nose slightly at the garish, unpolished spurs, a needless and noisy feature--but no, he realized, the cowboy had made no noise save for crushing the detritus underfoot. Were these spurs purely for show?

I adhere to the spurs as a cat bell headcanon. And, like a cat, Jesse knows how to get around them just fine.

He shook himself out of his pointless musings, refocusing on the cowboy. He was picking at a small pile of needles by his right knee, rubbing individual needles between thumb and forefinger before letting them fall back to the ground, head bowed as if the task merited all his concentration. The scent of cedar rose from the crushed needles, a welcome change from the wet rot, even if Hanzo could scarcely appreciate it while he waited for the cowboy to reveal his intentions.

I don’t actually know what cedar smells like. I hear it’s nice.

It took a good long while, a few endless minutes, before the cowboy finally cleared his throat. “I guess you got some readin’ done after the debriefin’,” he said, without looking up.

Hanzo could not help knitting his eyebrows together. “Reading?” he asked, taking care to keep his voice level, almost monotone.

The cowboy snorted loudly, still picking at the ground. “Or ‘reviewed team data’ or ‘briefed yourself’ or whatever you wanna call readin’ my file.”

“I did not.”

Hanzo smoothed his face back into a blank mask as the cowboy’s head snapped up, his dark eyes widened. “What?”

“I did not review the file.”

There were a couple of beats of silence, the cowboy merely staring, in shock perhaps.

“Why?” he asked at last. “I woulda expected you t’want all the dirt you could find on me.”

Hanzo doesn’t do things because he’s told, he tries to do what he thinks is best. When it comes to Genji, the difference is minimal, but in general Hanzo stopped doing what he was told ten years ago. Soldier: 76 may have told him to read the files, but Hanzo found it best not to. This is where Jesse starts to realize that.

Hanzo permitted himself to raise an eyebrow slightly. So there was “dirt” in the file. He had been right not to read it, then. It would only have added to the cowboy’s grievances against him. Of course, if he could have read it anonymously, he certainly would have, but it had been sent and received by Overwatch devices--the AI would know if it was accessed. The cowboy would surely check with her; he would not take Hanzo at his word.

THE ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE IS ALWAYS WATCHING. This is why it pays to be nice to Athena, as Hanzo’s going to find out in a future chapter.

But what to say for now? He looked around slightly, wondering what was appropriate to say while sitting in the relative open like this. Trusting in the constant drone of the cicadas to mask their voices, he settled on, “You say he joined a month ago, correct?” At the cowboy’s slight nod, “He did not consult anyone. I am unsure if he is authorized to do such a thing, after so little time.”

The cowboy’s lips curled into a strange smile. “Well, shit. I dunno, either, t’be honest,” he muttered, tone thoughtful with a strange edge of mirth. “I guess he must be, since he sent it in the first place.” Hanzo barely had time to consider the implications of that before the cowboy’s face dropped into a serious expression, his eyes piercing. “But you don’ really need any more dirt, do ya?”

WHAT could he POSSIBLY mean?

Well, I’ll tell you, [TEXT REDACTED]

Hanzo kept his face immobile, but he could feel his mind kick into high gear with an almost audible click behind his eyes. Dirt? On the cowboy? Hanzo had no idea what he was talking about.

Was he referring to the price on his head? It would be an odd non-sequitur, but Hanzo was at a loss to think of anything else. He had assumed it to be an open secret of little worth. He had discovered the bounty almost immediately when he had performed a quick search for information on Overwatch and its personnel during his stopover in Daisen. Jesse McCree was one of the most expensive criminals in the world, which would have interested Hanzo greatly if the cowboy were not an associate-by-duress, and if the United States’ haphazard bounty system could be trusted to properly distinguish between the criminal and the accused. Overwatch apparently did not trust it, and Hanzo certainly did not, either. The Shimada-gumi had “requested” the placement of several bounties for many of its enemies in America through its government contacts, and it had mattered little if there was an official criminal history or not. Hanzo would probably have an American bounty himself if his betrayal were not such an embarrassment for the clan.

LOL, you gotta have a good reason for Hanzo not to go for that bounty. Even if Genji invited him to Overwatch, there’s gotta be a good reason for Hanzo not to immediately shoot Jesse in the head.

Also an excellent opportunity to jab at the American criminal “justice” system. I Have Opinions, y’all, and I love dropping them into the text every once in a while.

So, if not the bounty, what?

Hanzo mentally shrugged. If the cowboy believed he had something, perhaps he did, but he sincerely doubted it amounted to anything. Sixty million dollars was nothing compared to being Genji’s comrade. What could possibly tempt him to ignore the debt he owed there? But he might as well try to find out what the cowboy was talking about, if he could.

“I do not know what you are referring to,” he said, making sure to lose some of the monotone in favor of a slightly confused edge.

The cowboy set his jaw for a moment. “Don’ go bullshittin’ me, Shimada,” he said in a low growl. “You told 76 everythin’ else--why wouldn’ you go the full mile, especially about that?”

[TEXT REDACTED]

Hanzo could feel his eyebrows creep together again. So it had something to do with the debriefing? Under the hot glare of the cowboy, he quickly ran over his entire conversation with the Soldier, trying to find what he had apparently left unsaid. The Soldier had been thorough about everything from the time Hanzo had arrived, to his surveillance pattern to the attack itself to all the cowboy’s negligence--

--but no, not all the cowboy’s negligence.

It was actually hard to think of a mistake for Jesse to commit--I don’t want Jesse to be an idiot or a fool in any way, shape, or form, so it was difficult to come up with something that was believable yet would make sense to someone as clever and intelligent as Jesse McCree. The key was his faith in teammates and his having spent years with no one at his side but the criminals he just bagged--lots of things make sense when you’re alone versus when you’re working in a team, and he’s rusty.

His expression cleared. Of course. Hanzo had omitted the detail where he had attempted to warn the cowboy about the likely schedule of the Yoneyama, a key piece of information that could have cut their numbers in half at the beginning of the battle, as well as greatly delayed the arrival of reinforcements. It was the cowboy’s fault that Overwatch had dropped in just in time to find themselves sandwiched between defenders and attackers, an unenviable position. It occurred to Hanzo that had they arrived a few minutes later still, both shifts of Yoneyama guards would have been clustered around the warehouse, possibly able to retreat into and double the fortifications of the warehouse, and who knew how that would have affected the final result.

Hanzo had not failed to mention this to the Soldier by choice--it had simply not occurred to Hanzo to say anything about it, possibly due to his disturbed state of mind, and the Soldier’s questions had not moved in that direction. Perhaps he, too, had been distracted, by Hanzo knowing next to nothing about the team.

If this was the “dirt”, then it truly amounted to nothing--it was merely a small addendum on the rest of the cowboy’s actions. Hanzo was surprised the cowboy thought it of any note, to be honest. Perhaps the Soldier had been pushed to the very edge by Hanzo’s report--he had certainly seemed to be building towards some near-apocalyptic rage when Hanzo had fled outside--and the cowboy had only barely avoided some enormous consequence by the skin of his teeth.

More likely, Hanzo decided, the cowboy suspected that he had been searching for something to discredit him, something he could blackmail him with. The thought almost made him snort. What use would that be? Overwatch was already overlooking a sixty million dollar bounty--in the face of that, what could Hanzo, half-agent and murderer, possibly say or do that could shake that apparently unflappable trust the organization had in the cowboy? However--

You’d be surprised, Hanzo.

Hanzo felt his back loosen marginally, noting that he had unconsciously began to curl forward slightly as he had been thinking. But now he could relax, just a little, because now he had a fix on the cowboy’s odd behavior from the moment Hanzo had dumped him next to his comrades at the warehouse.

After the near-disastrous battle, he knew that Hanzo’s report would inevitably result in short-term censure, but his position in Overwatch was secure overall, so he had feigned nervousness in an attempt to see what Hanzo would do if he was under the impression that he had some leverage against him. If Hanzo were more easily duped, he might have pounced on that leverage and tried to use it to some end or other, but the cowboy could then reveal the attempt in order to cast doubt on Hanzo himself, if more doubt was possible.

Clever. Very clever. Hanzo could barely refrain from shaking his head wryly as he evenly returned the cowboy’s glare. When he had first met him, it had been hard to believe that he had been part of a black ops organization for any amount of time, but Hanzo had been wise not to let his wild, ruffled, unkempt appearance deceive him. He was turning out to be something of an opponent.

I love having Hanzo respect Jesse for all the wrong reasons. I LOVE IT.

Hanzo felt his lips curve ever so slightly at the thought. An opponent, but in a game of what, exactly? Hanzo had nothing to lose except his life, after all, and even that already belonged to another, if only he would exercise that right.

Whatever the game was, though, Hanzo had little interest in playing.

Here comes the nuclear bomb.

He made a slight show of relaxing, arranging his knees into a slightly more comfortable position before speaking. “Agent McCree, it would change nothing if I went to the Soldier to amend my report,” he said, letting his face drop into an almost bored expression.

The cowboy, on the other hand, looked surprised. “What d’you mean by that, exactly?” he asked after a moment.

Hanzo gave a tiny sigh. The cowboy was his handler, so if he wanted to continue the game, Hanzo would be forced to participate, even minimally--but surely both men had better things to do with their time. Hanzo considered for a moment, before looking around them. The air was beginning to chill and leach the warmth from his skin as their surroundings darkened. If the branches above did not block the view, the first stars might have been visible in the blueblack sky. “How openly may I speak here? Are we secure?”

The cowboy frowned, looking a bit thrown by the question. “We’re--secure,” he said. “Mercy and Athena’re keepin’ an eye on the drones.” A look of understanding dawned then, and he lowered his voice almost to a growl again. “So say what you gotta say. Nothin’ and no one will overhear.”

Hanzo rather doubted that, but the alternative was going back into the safehouse, where the Soldier or the doctor were much more likely to overhear what, in the end, only the cowboy needed to know.

“You do not trust me,” he said without preamble. “You believe Overwatch should not trust me, that much is obvious. Did the Soldier tell you that I agree with you?” The cowboy sucked in a breath through his nose, which was all Hanzo allowed before he continued. Best to speak quickly, now.

“I defended your actions to him. You wished to protect your teammates from me, a proven danger. You are right to do this. I would do the same in your place. I would, perhaps, do more.” The cowboy’s eye twitched, and Hanzo smiled wanly. “In the end, however, it is unnecessary. There is absolutely nothing for me to gain by betraying Overwatch. There might be some riches, of course, but what use are riches without honor? And there is only one source of honor since I raised my--raised arms against Genji. And he will provide it, once he comes to his senses.”

“What?” the cowboy muttered, face closed, eyes narrowed.

Hanzo did not bother to hide his sigh. “The doctor tells me,” he said quietly, “that for whatever reason, he has only recently been blinded by this idea that forgiveness will suffice. It will not. You must only wait for his vision to clear, as I am.

“You worry for his safety when it does, of course, but he has defeated me each time we have met since he revealed himself. I have no doubt he will again, when he is ready.” The words were only a little forced, despite Hanzo’s pride. Even now, it sought to rise up and rage against the notion of his brother besting him, a bitter reminder that the past was not truly past. “We only need to tolerate each other for a little while, cowboy. I truly do not expect it to be long. There is nothing to do except indulge him until then. If he wishes for me to serve Overwatch while I wait for him to remember his right, so be it.”

This whole scene came from “We only need to tolerate each other for a little while, cowboy. I truly do not expect it to be long.” I originally put it near the beginning of their conversation, and the rest of the scene grew around it. I had to work to make it believable for Hanzo to be so frank with Jesse.

He paused, considering. “Also,” he mused slowly, “It was Overwatch that saved his life. I assume so, from what the doc--from what Mercy has said?” The cowboy nodded slowly. “Then I owe Overwatch, regardless of Genji’s wishes. Because of them, Genji lives, and so does this chance at redemption.”

At the word redemption , the cowboy stiffened, and his flesh hand went to cover the breast pocket of his flannel shirt. Hanzo gave no sign that he noticed, keeping his eyes fixed on the cowboy’s face. “Why tell me this?” he breathed out, as if he could not help himself.

I’m looking forward to revealing what’s in his pocketses. I knew it was going to be Something, but I didn’t decide exactly what it was until I watching @nimpnawakproduction‘s art stream as she very generously drew out this scene. She asked what was in there, and right then and there it just came to me what it going to be.

Hanzo huffed. “You fear my intentions, for Genji and Overwatch. This has been clear from the beginning. So there they are, laid bare.”

“And you think I’ll just step--” the cowboy seemed almost to choke on his words, but Hanzo would continue if he would not.

“Step aside?” The cowboy flinched , and Hanzo, in spite of himself, rolled his eyes. “ Yes , cowboy. I believe even you can appreciate the convenience, even the elegance, of allowing a problem to resolve itself.”

I’m really proud of this line. Hanzo is revealing a little bit of his newfound respect for Jesse in the most passive aggressive possible--but he doesn’t know he might as well have just gutshot Jesse.

Silence. The cowboy kept his hand over his pocket, staring, almost squinting at Hanzo through the deepening gloom.

What are you thinking about, Jesse?

What indeed.

Thank you so much for the prompt!! I hope you enjoyed it!!

#asks #behind the scenes #my fics #Anonymous

23 notes · View notes

aliceslantern · 7 years

Text

Nocturnal Memory, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 16

[Summary: Dying takes a lot out of you, it's true, but when Demyx wakes up for the first time since his fight with Sora nothing's right. His memories are fragmented and he's missing his true name. And he's not the only one. An incomprehensible mystery and an inevitable war make him question what, exactly, he would do to become whole, and reclaim the music lost to him.

on FF.net/on AO3]

Lea only had a few hardened pieces of bread. Demyx settled for instant coffee. As it boiled he sat listlessly at the card table. While Demyx had slept off the alcohol, Lea had spread the paperwork out messily in any direction. Some of the pages were coffee stained, though legible. He wasn't sure whether to read them or not; after all, this was Lea's, and none of his business. Demyx cleared a small spot for himself, and text caught his eye.

It was Demyx's handwriting. His own handwriting. Reservations aside, he snatched it. He recognized the header on the paper right away—Organization paperwork.

How did Lea have this?

It was just a reconnaissance report, from several weeks spent on a world he'd remembered as particularly lovely; it had been targeted for its strategic placement in the galaxy. The few clipped, stunted sentences on the report didn't do the place real justice.

There were more. Not just his reports, but others' reports—some of Dilan's, Aeleus's, work orders completed within the castle. Papers about all their second-strand Nobodies. Each had been given a number, but Demyx remembered naming all of his. David. Iggy. Janis. Grace.

316 woke up today. I worked with them for a little while. They really like reggae for some reason. Maybe that has something to do with where they're from? Look into this.

At the bottom of the report was a big "yes" in Saïx's handwriting, followed by, "Get it combat ready ASAP."

He had always hated that, though, and how eventually he would feel the little ping of their loss in his consciousness. It hadn't caused much pain then, but it wasn't pleasant, either. Even with his powers back he still didn't feel that same connection to the hivemind of the Dancers, probably because he himself was no longer technically a Nobody. They must all be human now, he tried to reassure himself. Then again, if they were as fucked up as he was, maybe it was better if they were gone.

At the bottom pile was older stuff, darker stuff. Reports by Xigbar. Planet X fell. Swarmed by Heartless. Barely had to lift a finger. Demyx saw a dozen at least like these. His stomach felt still sicker.

Mixed in were gray file folders of their personnel reports. Demyx saw his and felt his heart stutter. Maybe his true name was in there, or something useful. He snagged the folder and tried to quell his breathing.

The first page was an intake form. It was more or less the same as any of the second strand Nobodies, with sparer information. His number was listed first, in Roman numerals, not Arabic like the rest. His given name was listed, but the small box was blacked out, with "redacted" handwritten in white. He held the paper up to the light, trying to see the printed letters through the marker, but the ink was completely opaque. Like a lot of things.

His chest began to ache. His homeworld info had received similar treatment. His power, weapon, and skillset was listed, and there was an unflattering picture of him at the beginning, zombie-eyed and shorn-haired, face still childish. There was only one small piece of information that was new to him. His birthday, October 19, and the birth year, telling him for the first time that he was nineteen years old. Nearly twenty.

"Nineteen." He felt so much older than that, a million years old really.

At the bottom were yearly reviews, written in pencil by Saïx.

The first year—Nine has proven to be a capable worker—when he sets his mind to it. He has an incredible potential for laziness. His power still grows, as does he. With proper discipline he'd be a perfect member yet. The second and third years listed a clear decline in his work ethic, and Saïx's aggression became less and less veiled. Absolutely USELESS. Lazy. Incompetent. Complete and utter waste of resources.

Then the fourth year, right as Sora had destroyed them all—Terminated. DOD 6 March. Three months ago. He'd only been conscious since April. How much time had actually passed? He'd known he'd lost some time in recovery; he hadn't realized just how long. It was true that time flowed differently on all worlds, but he didn't buy it. Something wasn't adding up.

Demyx's hands were shaking. He set the reports down and tried to fix them the way he had found them. He realized that the kettle was whistling loudly and had been for some time, worsening the stabbing pain in his head.

He drank the coffee down too quickly and nearly scalded his tongue. He left Lea's house, walking fast even though his legs complained, and headed back to the castle.

The hangover mostly abated after he ate something and bathed. He was so sore he could barely raise his arms high enough to get a shirt on. He couldn't figure out what to do now and loitered for far longer than he should in the kitchen, trying hard not to think about the reports, and the lies.

"Good afternoon, Nine. I thought you had spent the night at Lea's. How did it go?" Ienzo asked. He started to make himself some tea.

"Oh. Good, I guess. I'm pretty sore."

"I would imagine. Might I join you?"

"Uh, sure." He paused. He tried to find the steely sense of resolve he had felt that morning. "I have something to tell you."

"What would that be?" He stirred his tea calmly.

Demyx's throat was dry. He forced a laugh. "I, um. I want to fight."

Ienzo went still for a moment. "I'm not sure I follow."

"I want to fight. This. I want to help."

"You… you do?" He spoke slowly.

"Yes." He laughed again, as hysteria twined into him. "Oh, fuck. I got pretty drunk last night and I guess I had some sort of epiphany."

"You're sure," Ienzo said. "I know in vino veritas, but perhaps… perhaps it was just a passing impulse."

"That's the thing." His eyes were tearing up again and he blinked it away. "It's been a while since I felt this sure."

"…What if this is what he wants?" Ienzo asked.

"I don't care what he wants! I…" He took a deep breath. "I can't just sit on this guilt and do nothing."

Ienzo looked down. Demyx couldn't read his expression.

"I found my birthday," he said more softly. "October. I'm nineteen."

"I know." Ienzo smiled weakly. "I forget that little more than a year separates us."

He wondered if he should tell him the rest. "Lea has… Lea has paperwork. From the Organization."

"I'm aware."

"That means he's gone back. How has he gone back without getting killed?"

"We didn't want him to go back. This was during Sora's Mark of Mastery. He's brought back useful information. I was hoping… that he could find some sort of clue, about our conditions. But it all seemed paltry to me. Accounts. Reports. Pittances of things that we already knew." Ienzo hesitated. "We had almost wanted him to surrender to them; to be a double agent. But that was before he started screaming his alignment from the rooftops."

"Are you fighting too?" Demyx asked. "Have we… have we all…?"

"Yes and no. I'm trying to gather as much as I can, as fast as I can. I don't think we'll be much use until we're all healed. If we're not, he could use that against us." He set down his mug and looked Demyx in the eye. "There was a thought, at the beginning, to make you the double agent."

"Ten already thinks that's what they're trying to do, by fucking me up," he added. His voice was steady but he was faint.

"You have to admit there's some appeal," Ienzo said. "Your powers are returning rapidly. You're skilled at gathering intelligence. Besides, there's little the other side doesn't know. If we sent you… let you drop some few spare things… maybe we could get a return."

"I don't think I could get them to trust me. I never could find out what was going on in the Organization."

"Perhaps not. But you have the will to, apparently, when before you didn't."

Demyx stared at the table and traced the woodgrain. "…You mean go to them. Beg for mercy, to be healed… and then be among them."

"…Yes. That was the basic plan."

His heart clanged in his ears.

"Obviously this would be after you became considerably stronger. And they need you to mend the town. If our other plans proceed at the predicted rate… Perhaps… in the fall, sometime."

Demyx laughed. "Happy birthday to me!"

"You should tell the committee of your… change of thought. Just so they're aware."

"…I feel dizzy, Ienzo." His hands trembled. "Is this a stupid thing to do?"

"I do not know, Nine. I really don't."

He hunted in the storage room for useful things. His heart still hammered against his ribs. He needed to fix the guitar, to get his mind off of all this. Otherwise he thought he'd throw up.

He needed wood, for the fingerboard. The leg of a chair or dresser would do. It would need to be cut, sanded down, and finished. There had to be sandpaper and finish somewhere… even if it was ugly, it would do. And something for frets. Even if he found tape he could cut it. Pegs… maybe there was something among the lab equipment that could work?

The hardest would be strings. He'd probably have to buy or trade for them. He only had the measly amount of money that had been on his person when Sora had killed him. But Heartless had some money… When he could fight better he could go after them.

He found a songbook on the floor, waterlogged and half chewed by mice. He held it gently in his hands. This must have originally accompanied the guitar; it wasn't far from it. The pages were brittle and swollen. The first few pages detailed the parts of the guitar. The tide of his excitement caused him to flip through page after careful page. Even though the tablature might as well have been runes for all he understood, he could learn, right? There was still time. At least, for now—

But he didn't find much of anything else. If there was anything good, he didn't come across it in his search, and he searched for some time. Was there anywhere else he could look? Would the sitar ever get back to him? Or would he just be like this—so weird and so fucking numb all the time—until this war inevitably killed him? If Sora had been able to cut him down so easily when he was at his strongest, what about the other vessels? What if this meant more than espionage? And if he got caught by them? Would any of this actually be worth it, in the end?

He gave up after sundown, and found it hard to get much sleep, a sick stinging anxiety keeping him up most of the night.

The next day a note for him arrived from the committee, calling him back to work. He'd only been away a few days but it felt like so much longer. He followed the path deeper into town, with the weight of the knife steadying him.

Demyx arrived where they'd told him, near the castle. A massive crane had been set up, and new stone connected the old aqueducts with the rest of the town. He saw Cid sitting inside the cab, yelling indiscriminately, but it was too hard to hear because of the noise.

"Oh good! You're here!" he yelled at Demyx when he saw them. "Do you like this new setup we've got?!"

"What are you doing?"

"What was that?!"

"I said, what are you doing?"

"Hang on, I'm coming down!" The engine stopped rumbling. Cid climbed down and checked his ears. "Post-industrial piece of shit," he explained. "But it's what we've got. We always had plans to build out the aqueduct. With this place mostly in ruins, we've got to get this going before you can step in fully. Those repairs we did earlier were to try and connect the old system to the new. I'm afraid to say that today, you're more an extra pair of hands than anything."

He was still so sore he wasn't sure he'd be much use. "Uh… okay."

"Yuffie and Leon are up top, patching everything up. I'm guessing you don't know much about masonry."

Reconnaissance had supplied him with a weird amount of knowledge for all sorts of things. He'd studied far too many industrial parks. "…More than you'd think."

"Then up you go. Careful on that scaffolding." He gestured to wooden supports built up some few stories in the air.

He exhaled and climbed diligently. His arms were jelly by the time he got up top.

"Thanks for showing up," Yuffie said, voice bitter. They were both kneeling down on the highest part of the scaffolding, spackling on a thick gray mortar over cracks in the stone with trowels. They were getting nowhere fast. "Pick up a trowel and get to work."

"There are some tools over there." Leon gestured to a toolbox sitting just behind them, near a few bags of dried mortar. "You might want to grab a pair of work gloves."

He did so and returned. He could already tell this would be painful, tedious work, but he was already here, and if he was going to work with them, there would be a lot more painful, tedious work coming. It would have to be worth it, he told himself. Maybe there really was a way for them to heal him. Maybe they hadn't found it yet. If Aerith and Ienzo worked together…

For a while they built in near perfect silence, laying and cementing stone in the hollows between reclaimed pieces. Very quickly a burn set in his arms and he had a feeling time was passing a too slowly.

"Why not just use pipes?" Demyx asked. He rolled his shoulder to try and ease the pain.

"We don't have any," Leon said. "We've got to work with what was left from all the other destroyed districts. This will all hold up better, eventually."

More silence. The pain had him near tears, heaving bricks to and fro, but he forced himself not to complain because Yuffie was right there.

"Lea told me he was teaching you to fight," Leon said.

Yuffie peeked through her bangs.

"…I guess that's true," Demyx said.

"It's reasonable. You shouldn't wander unprotected. Nobody should." Leon wiped the sweat from his brow. "He told me you were interested in standing with us."

Yuffie looked up fully. Her gaze was bemused, but uncomfortable.

"We'd be happy to have you," Leon continued.

"How would you trust him?" Yuffie asked. She scoffed. "How would you know he wouldn't…"

Leon gave her a look. "Wouldn't what, Yuffie?"

"I don't know. They hurt people. You hurt people. What about the Thousand Heartless?" Her tone was sharp and she spackled a bit more harshly than necessary.

"They sent me there to die," Demyx said. He tried to make it sound matter-of-fact, but he was starting to get pissed. "They wanted Sora to kill me and he did and that's that."

"But say you had stopped him—"

This again. "But I didn't." The sun was beating harshly on his face. "I never had a fucking chance."

"Yuffie. Stop. Please." Leon's tone was sharp.

"I've gotta get out of here. I'm gonna go help Cid." She slipped down the scaffolding and was gone.

Demyx's stomach hurt. He took a deep breath.

"Yuffie holds a grudge," Leon said. "I'm guessing you already figured that out."

He didn't know what to say. He was so mad he could practically see red. "I'm trying to do the right thing. Does she think I don't know? Does she think I don't feel that way all the time?" The mortar was cool against his hands.

Leon nodded. "I understand it was… complicated."

More silence. The pain in his arms was grounding. When they broke for lunch he sat off by himself, dangling his legs on the scaffolding and trying to find some flavor in his pathetic sandwich. He felt footsteps and weight next to him and saw Yuffie with her plastic container. "Going to yell at me some more?" he asked. He would get up and move, but his exhaustion rooted him to the spot.

"No." Her voice sounded forced. "I came to—ugh—apologize."

"What, did Leon make you?"

She shrugged. "Did they really want to kill you?"

He had no more appetite. "I was terrified," he said. "We were all dying. Half of us were gone. I never cared for their cause, I just did enough work to save my life. I don't think anyone thought the fake Kingdom Hearts would work but we were desperate. Xemnas, he… he said the whole time that this was the answer. We didn't know how to be whole again. You don't know what it's like, Yuffie, the emptiness, it's just this huge… void, inside, gnawing like, these little weird half pops of feeling coming in now and again." He touched his chest and prayed he wouldn't start crying.

She didn't say anything. She looked vaguely pained.

"When they gave me that order to face him… I think they saw me as a burden. Like if they put me there I could buy them some time to make a better plan. I don't know why I didn't just run." A pause. A hot wind had kicked up. "How can you think I'm so bad when you have no idea how you'd act in the same situation?"

"Fuck that." Her tone wasn't as heated as usual, though. "Have you seen a world fall? All the chaos… the bloodshed… knowing that most of them won't get out? Knowing that they'll die, or they'll become Heartless? Or worse?"

Planet X fell. Xigbar hadn't even given the planet a name. How many stories and songs had been lost? He'd seen the reports, heard the whispers of the lesser Nobodies in his consciousness as they reported to him, the fire, the fear, the screaming, waves and waves of boiling darkness. A sharp pain stabbed behind his eyes. "Yes. I have."

"It's how my dad died. I'm sorry. I can't see the shades of gray in this situation." She looked away from him, out onto the rest of the town.

He could hardly believe it. A human conversation. "I never wanted to hurt anyone. I know that I probably did."

She slumped forward. "Me too. Shit. I always wondered if I could have done more when this place fell. All I could think about was… running."

"You were in danger. It was the instinctual thing to do."

"Maybe someone else should have gone in that ship instead of me. Maybe I should have stayed with my dad." She closed her eyes. "We're going to be working together for a while. Let's at least put up with each other."

This day was too fucking weird. "I can do that."

#nocturnal memory #demyx #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts 3d #fanfiction

5 notes · View notes