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[imaginekitharington]

Hi! I recently came across your page and think your an awesome writer. Little nervous to ask but could it be possible to write one where Kit tries to make you say you love him during sex but you can't. Tells you how much he loves you while you sleep and you blurt out that you love him in an argument the next day. Thanks 😊.

A/N: First of all, I want to say thank you to my followers that have persisted to follow this blog and send in requests in my ridiculous absence. In my attempts to work on my personal projects, I put aside my Imagine blogs (I have two others) and focus on my own projects. But life gets in the way and I slowly found my productivity dissipating. In an effort to continue and satisfy all of you that have stuck around, I will be continuing IKH. I apologize for keeping you all held out for so long, and to keep flexing my writing muscle there will be more posts in the future. Thank you all for your kind words, it has truly been a jolt of inspiration to come back to your love! While writing smut-fics is sometimes uncomfortable, I most definitely owe it to the readers that have asked. I hope you enjoy, I am a little rusty.

——

When the lights shut out there was nothing but a solid succession of silence between the walls of your flat, the softest sheets of rain against the window, and a howl of the wind’s might every now and then. With the TV and cable box now pitch black and dead, the two of you sat further into the couch.

“Well, I guess we won’t be finishing that tonight.”

On the couch, you and Kit had found a comfortable tangle beneath the protection of your favorite blanket. The central air had given out from pumping cool air to your atmosphere, and just like a scene in some apocalyptic horror movie the streets beyond your windows when dark.

You had stood on bare feet and padded over to the window to check that the streetlights were still working when you turned back to Kit on the couch.

“Blown transformer or alien death ship?”

As casual as ever, his shoulders rose and fell as he stood, stretching his arms high and straight to the corners of the room with a yawn, “Alien death ship, I bet. Candles?”

With an almost solemn pout, you nodded, “Candles. I have no idea where the flashlights are.”

“No flashlights, but an armada of candles. Our priorities are prime.”

You shove him aside as you head to the kitchen and begin to sprawl out your collection atop the counter. A battalion of vanillas, a fleet of fresh cotton, a squadron of peaches and mangoes alike, and a small garrison of cinnamon. With only the faint light of the moon to guide you, Kit insisted on lighting the candles. One by one, using only the short lighters he carried around, the flat flickered back to life by the light of small candles on safe surfaces in each room.

The two of you spent the next ten minutes trying to find something to do.

You started with cards, a short game of rummy here and an attempt at poker there, but the dim light wasn’t enough to check the other’s poker faces and interest was steadily as lost as the electricity in your neighborhood.

Boardgames were an idea, but being that they were in basement storage it seemed a bit fruitless to navigate a darkened apartment building just to rescue Monopoly from the clutches of your horror-inducing basement (complete with all the creaks and claustrophobia one could ask for).

So instead, you two settled to lie in bedroom until a better idea came to you. Kit lingered in the kitchen to grab water bottles for the two of you while you sauntered to your bedroom. Larger windows meant a fraction more moonlight trying it’s hardest to touch your bed, but falling just short. Instead the candle light made up the distance, flicking and stretching as it swallowed the wick an inch by the second.

The loss of the central air mean that the habitual heat of your apartment would clutch you soon enough, fueled all the more by the abundance of candles and challenged none by the ceiling fan seemingly frozen in time.

At the foot of your bed, you peel the maroon sweatshirt from your body,tossing it in the hamper with your shorts and moving to comfort your bones with the mattress beneath you. It felt a little better in your underwear, but you always preferred the cold.

You close your eyes aligning your back with the surface beneath you, and begging your muscles to readjust their relaxation to spread elsewhere but it just wasn’t enough yet.

“Comfortable?”

“I would be if you would just join me already.”

When close enough to the bed he tossed the water bottle to you and the frigid cold jilted your senses as it kissed your skin. You hummed pressing the plastic to your head and stomach for a moment before cracking it open and taking a few mouthfuls.

Without even looking at him you knew exactly what he’d been doing; peeling off his own shirt and sweats to feed the hamper but settling in the bed on what had become his side. For a moment the two of you just laid back, faces towards the ceiling, eyes closed and breathing. In the center, your fingertips kissed, gently moving against one another’s each second.

“My sister called me today. She wants me to visit her in the city a next month, the family is getting together for my Pa’s birthday just before she goes on vacation.”

He’s quiet and you know exactly why. Your move to London didn’t exactly go without a hitch when it came to your family. Despite the fact that you are well beyond the age where your parents make decisions for you, a continental move towards a man you’d never introduced them to was a hulking, flame-infested red flag and they certainly were not quiet about it.

Divorced since age sixteen, this issue was the closest you’d seen your parents align since you’d begged them to let you get an elaborate eyebrow ring when you were sixteen. Credit was due for that one. In hindsight, you were glad they stopped you, but your life here with Kit was a topic they knew absolutely nothing about.

With the exception of the storm tonight, there was nothing about your life with Kit that you’d have changed. It was your choice not to mention your relationship with Kit for so long, and it was your decision not to introduce him to them as well. Neither of which you regretted. Even during your foray into adulthood, the leash your parents had kept on you did not let up. This move to London was inevitable for work, the decision to move in with Kit was your own and in your mind, there was no need for an explanation. You are a grown woman, gifted with the opportunity to mold your own life, and unfortunately you can’t make a smooth, beautiful structure with pieces that won’t bend.

“Hello? Are you in there?”

Shit, he’d been talking to you this whole time.

“I’m sorry, love, say again?”

Leaning on bent elbow, hand propping up his head and watching you intently. His eyebrows were high and knitted together.

“I said,” he started taking a shallow breath in, and moving his finger to your shoulder, softly hooking your bra strap and flattening it’s cross, “I think you should go.”

“You always say that.”

“I know. Have you thought a bit about why?”

“No, and for a pretty-”

“Shitty reason.”

Now it was your turn to narrow your eyebrows. Almost without thought you swatted his hand from your shoulder as you sat up to face him, “Go on.”

Kit watched you for a moment as if trying to gauge how annoyed you were getting with him at this very moment so he could stutter-step his way into an explanation that you would actually consider. He shifted his head back to the pillow, going back to start and facing the ceiling with eyes closed.

“Don’t let them continue to believe you coming over here was a bad decision. Cutting yourself off from them all is just reinforcing the idea,” he turns over to look at you, “Your sister is just trying to hold on the best way she knows how. She even offered to come out here just to see you. I know you’re caught in your own feelings about the way things went when you left, but it’s worth it to try again. They’re your family. Go back, and show them how you’re really doing. If you’re happy, maybe they’ll be happy for you. And if not, then you can cut them off just how you want.”

You stared him down with narrowed brows, you hated when he was right, but he truly was. Your eyes dropped down to your hands, and you sucked your teeth.

“That’s a long way to fly just to realize that I should’ve stayed behind with you until you leave.”

He laughs one of disbelief at you and rolls his eyes, “You are so fucking stubborn.”

“No, I just don’t want to waste time I could’ve spent enjoying the company of someone I really do care about before they leave for however many months in exchange for a week being ridiculed for making a quote ‘decision drenched in girly lunacy’. I’m done being spoken to like a sixteen year-old, I’m 31 years-old.”

That laugh came again and now you were rea pissed off.

“And how many times have you told me that your sister isn’t like them?”

“Plenty, but I don’t want her knowing my business either.”

“Is that fair?”

No, it wasn’t. You knew you were being childish, but this wasn’t something you wanted to do. You did it again, he would tell you once he realized it too, that you were looking for an argument. Throwing a topic into the air looking for someone to back you up to make you feel better, but the more he talked (more than he’d ever spoke in relation to your family), the more you know he was right. He was usually right, except when he was being a jackass which, most of the time, was after alcohol had reached his system.

“I really don’t like you right now.”

“Yeah, because you’re acting like a sixteen year-old.”

Now you were glaring and you could tell. You palms were beginning to sweat and you could feel your ears getting hot. His eyes were dead set on you, watching you on the verge of an eruption, but instead you took a breath in and pushed it back out.

“You’re right,” your shoulders were clenched if it were ever possible, you were nearly grinding your teeth and everything about your upper body was strained until this moment, “I should go. If not for them, then for her.”

“Yeah, you should, and don’t be so testy when you get there. You’re a ticking time bomb. And if you use me as an excuse not to go at the very last moment, I’m going to be really upset with you,” his hand found your knee as you leaned back on the king-sized mattress and gazed up at the ceiling fan, just wishing that any moment now it would flick back on.

All you did was throw him a thumbs-up from here you laid. You closed your eyes against the pillow top and took another breath in, each scent from the lit candles hitting you at once, all hoping to find a warmth like the candle they come from within you. It helped you relax a bit, and as the thunder cracked again you reached over for his hand.

Like long before you were inspired by the storm to wreak intended havoc on an otherwise peaceful night, now you seemed to seek resolution.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, the tips of your fingers dancing together until they grew tired and tangled in a rest.

“Don’t be.”

“But I was a jerk.”

“I’m a jerk sometimes, and you check me too.”

You sit up and shift over to where he lay, laying over him like a blanket, resting your head just beside his neck. The edges of your lips stretched wide as you could hear the pace of his heart thumping heavily and feel yours pumping quick until eventually they both slowed damn near harmony.

This was where you wanted to be. Going back to the states to visit your family wasn’t high on your 'To-Do List’, but it had to be done. All you wanted was just not to lose a week of this in exchange.

You turned your head, you opposite hand resting against the neck that you pressed your lips to. From nape to jaw, your lips traced a trail until you could feel his hand against the back of your shoulder. A grin ghosted against your lips as those same fingertips trailed along your blade until you pulled yourself up just enough so to shift to a straddle. Between your hands, the shadow of his beard was soft against your hands and you guided eager lips together for a dance.

Kissing him each time was something so sensual, so refreshing, and fulfilling. No touch was the same as the last, as if each were predestined to illicit some uncovered feeling to the surface of your skin. While you felt you could only offer the same few tricks, he came back to you every time with something all the more intriguing, finding new ways to show you just how he felt without utter a word.

So all you could do was coax the moment, keep up with his strides, and pick up a trick on the way. Each time you felt as if there was more you could, each time he drank you, he left only the littlest reserve for you to recover, taking all you had.

You lips moved in slower strokes, teeth taking his lip for you tongue to trace as you backed away, but he never let you. His hand always found the back of your neck and pulled you back in, tongue taking it’s turn to stroke yours, twisting in ways that seemed improbable, but remembering to allow his lips to romance you. It was an important factor you and you saw time and time again that he made an effort to avoid shoving his tongue straight into your mouth like you remember so many of your exes doing in the old days.

Your tongues tangled in a cyclone as his freehand on your hip pushed you into him, your own hips pressing down a little extra just for him. He groaned in your mouth overtaking you all the more. Your hands departed his face to press against your headboard and push the two of you apart. From atop his lip, you grinned, hooking your fingers against his neck and pulling him back and on top of you. Your head leaned to the edge of the bed, exposing the full length of your neck to him, but he didn’t take the bait.

Instead his hand ran over your thighs as he settled between your legs, his fingers trailing slowly along the lining of your underwear. In the thick of your bedroom’s heat, he stared you down and a chill spread down you spine to your hips until you lifted them just enough for the garment to fall away with his touch. There’s a twitch in his lips as they drop to the floor and your bra slipped away just as quick.

The thunder cracked again but you didn’t even hear it. There was no sound but your direct vicinity, no storm outside, no gentle wicks cracking beneath the heat of the flame, no heavy breaths, just your skins meeting in every attempt to fuse together. His final garment slipped to the dark oblivion on your floor and your bed sighed just as you did at the feel of his touch on your thighs.

Your hands fought each others’ grasp until they became tangled in each other. You sat up to move on him, and press your waists together once more then your hand took him firm. Trailing along the entry toward his shelter from the rain, guiding all around for the sensation it produced causing your breaths to catch in your throat. You head rolled back and he kissed your neck, letting his own hand rest over yours and slide into you smoothly.

He fills you like water until there isn’t a part of you he hasn’t touched, pulling out to do it all over again. You held him to keep you steady until his hands reach around to your back and you roll against his touch, swirl into his penetration. You take him to the brim and stop, clenching your walls to tell him this is exactly where you both belong.

Like fire on the wick, you engulf one another repeatedly until each time felt like there was no other option but an explosion.

“Yes,” you panted, pulling your faces far enough just to see one another. Your eyes met molten brown and they stared you down as your bodies burn for more fire. You rolled over to take control, sitting atop him and using his hands as leverage in your attack. Quick until his breaths grew labored, and slow to bring them back to speed. Grips on your sides, thighs and ass got rougher, trying to manipulate as best as he could from his position until his own hips reached up to grasp the distances you’ve held him from. When he tried too hard you just pull away again, and his head pressed back against the pillow in a pleasant frustration, audible in the groan he shot at you.

“You’re so mean,” he told you, resigning his hands to trail your sides. When it came to battles like these, you were, but he was cruel as well. You knew he’d show you those colors if you gave him the chance, but that moment was yours to exact your own form of torture in the way you saw fit. Your game was always to tease him, give him a taste of the full show, and spent act two and most of act three building the tension for his finale. Sometimes you didn’t even let him get that, and right at that moment, you hadn’t decided.

The smirk on your lips told him that you were enjoying ever second of his tormented bliss, and when you flicked your hips at him that way he knew you were only getting started. You rested your hands on his chest, using a forehand to sweep your hair over your back and keep yourself going.

But every once in a while a road block comes in the way in the form of the involuntary tightening in your thigh.

“Ow, Charlie Horse, fuck,” you murmur, and straighten your spine, hand shooting to your thing to massage and calm the muscle there.

He laughs aloud at you and is quick to sit up and flip you to your back.

“You’re mine now.”

“Wait, just give me a second,” you sat up a bit, trying to coax the stiffness away, but he grabbed your hand in the attempt.

“Oh no, I’ll take care of that for you, love.”

You recognized that shit-eating grin of his, it popped up at moments like these and lingered for longer than it was welcome. He settled in between your legs, his hand reaching down to your thigh, stroking the muscle he could feel had clenched up until it relaxed. When it did, he peered up at you with a grin, his face slipping lower and lower until you could feel his lips spreading over the skin, kisses and touches from his tongue started low. Traveled they did, until they reached your gateway, parted the doors, his tongue stroking your center and slipping through the threshold to taste you.

“You’re cruel, you know that?” your voice was a hum to him, egging him on and when you looked down you saw that gaze again and realize that your wick was nearing its’ end. Your breath caught in your throat, fingers melded with the curls atop his head, “Deeper.”

He chuckled below and took your request for its’ truth. Your breath went deep, and caught that tickle and you held for the ride. Your free hand takes the bedspread in your grasps so tight that knuckles turn to match to moon.

When he felt your walls close in, saw your chest begin to race he pulled back from you, wiping his face and descending to you once again. Your eyes fluttered at him, flickering like the light of the candles and as positioned himself over you with that lopsided smile, you thought he might undo you at that very moment. But he wasn’t done yet.

He lifted one of your legs to his hands and pressed into you once more, you realize that you’d missed him the entire time. His freehand rests against your face gently at first, tips of his fingers moving over the landscape of your features as his waves were gentle. Kit holds your gaze solid and you yearn to feel his lips. He hit that spot and your eyes close as you moaned for him, he smirked, taking your chin rough and commanding, “Look at me.”

You eyes fluttered back to the smolder that takes ever centimeter from your wick that’s left, hips pressing with a grander force than before and your mouth opened for his delight. He slipped from inside you and dipped his fingers in you quickly, pulling them out placing them on your tongue. You grinned a little and grabbed his hand, closing your lips over his fingers and sucking them dry. His mouth opened, he twitched against your thing. His hand slides himself back inside you and you knew that act three had come.

His arm scooped around your abdomen and hugged you close, his free hand resting on your jaw as you could feel both wicks on their final burn. His strokes had purpose, like a painter opening the flood gates for his emotion against  canvas, long and forceful you both began to curl around one another in attempt to close whatever space was left. The fire pushed from your insides out to your skin, pressing against one another and setting one another ablaze. His forehead pressed on yours and in one final twist, you rolled him over and slammed yourself down on him.

“Fuck,” he uttered and you dropped low to his level, keep the same pace he had set before. His hands grasped at your sides, until he grew restless once more and rolled to your side and over again until he seemed satisfied to align against your side. You lifted a leg, and he slipped into you once more, his hand busying itself with playing you like his favorite instrument. His head settled against the back of your neck, lips kissing and biting at your sides and shoulder.

You clenched against him once more and the both of you moaned for the fire itching at your skin, praying for it to finally engulf you both. Your hand reaches back around to him, begging him closer.

But he’d been done with begging, done with teasing and name-calling. He reached for your neck, turning your gaze to his eyes once more and then as you clenched on him again and the flame took you both whole. You watch the fire pop in his eyes as the both of quake from the burn.

Your breaths got harsh, fanning your lips until all that was left was the smoke curling from your lips as you kissed. Once more you curled into one another, your body turning back to him as you tangled yourselves again. Your head found it’s place in the crevice of his neck, just far enough to breathe and close enough to feel your sweat fuse. Your arms found their way around him in a comfortable position and his own fill the empty space. His fingers were in your hair and on your shoulder, smoothing your hair and tracing shapes.

And when you felt the sleep crawling from your toes to your face, you heard him say it as bold as the thunder struck, “I love you, so much.” You feigned sleep that night, but even after the calm of his breathing told you, it had taken him over, it never came for you.

——

It was 3:46 in the morning. The power had come back on, the house grew cold again, but despite the comfort, you still couldn’t find rest.

What had you expected? A cross-continent move, up-rooting of your life, almost three years of dating so that he could stay as someone you ate, slept, showered, and fucked with? No. Maybe a little more, but love?

The idea wasn’t off-putting, someone like Kit being in love with you was a picture perfect dream, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were still on the roller coaster upwards, love only plateaued the ride. Where else was there to go from there, marriage, children? You could barely remember to feed yourself properly every day. Yogurt wasn’t a solid breakfast, take-out wasn’t logical for dinner most nights of the week, and budgeting for an extra tiny, very needy human being? Love was the peak of human interaction, but where did things go from there.

You watched below, hoping for someone to walk along the sidewalks so that maybe you could think about their  life instead of choices that yours were giving you.

“What are you doing?”

He scared the living shit out of you. Standing in the door way, boxers on backwards, sleeping stuck on his eyes no matter how hard he rubbed it away. He was fucking adorable, and you were hating him right now for it.

“Why would you do this to us?”

It was a confusing question sure, but he looked thoroughly lost.

“It’s like 4 am, love. You’re going to have to spell this out for me.”

“Tell me you don’t mean it.”

He took a step further into the living room, towards where you stood with knitted brows and a sour face.

“I’m really lost.”

“You said you loved me, I heard you.”

Now he understood, and for a moment, he is almost bashful with his smile but it fades just as quickly as it came.

“What do you mean 'why would I do this to us’?” he did that laugh again, the one that made your hair stand on end. This time you’re not so keen on meeting his gaze, it’s hurt, you should’ve known it would’ve been, “Why would I not mean it if I said it?”

“You’ve doomed us.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He shakes his head, his hang sweeping roughly over his face, “If we’re not in love, then please tell me what the hell we’ve been doing for the past three years.”

“Two and a half.”

“Stop it.”

He’s really angry.

“What now, then? I say it back and we go skipping off to sunset? You know what happens when things get to this point, don’t you? It’s our plateau.”

“Says who?” He’s screaming now, hands shaking and all I can do is watch. I’ve hurt him deeply, but love makes people stupid, blind, comfortable.

“It’s what happens when I fall in love.”

He sits down on the couch, and puts his hands on his face as he looks at me.

“Have you moved to another continent for many men?”

Silence.

“Have you preferred the company of one man over the company of family often?”

Silence.

“Have you lived with another man, shared bed, food, shower, and clothes with another man for three years before? And so help me god, our anniversary is two weeks from now, please don’t insult me any further.”

Silence.

He stood from the couch and walked briskly over to where you stood before the window. He took your hand.

“Have you felt about another man the way that you feel about me? Have they known you like I do?”

Your head shook, but he knew the answer already. His grasp finds your chin and your eyes have nowhere to run, “Then I need you to tell me that you don’t love me.”

But you can’t, and you don’t. Instead, you reach forward for his lips, but he doesn’t let you.

“I’ve come too far, sacrificed too much for something that’s not real. I do love you, much more than I deserve to, but I’m fucked up and way away from the world you live in. I don’t want to wake up one day here and realize that I’ve been caught blind. I can’t do it.”

“I’m not going to hurt you. But I need to know you won’t hurt me too. I’m not impenetrable, and honestly, if you think love is the end all for relationships, you have a lot to learn.”

He cracks a small grin and kisses you deeply.

“Teach me then.”

“Oh, I will. Now, please, come back to bed and try not to give me heart failure again.”

[imaginekitharington]

I only kiss on dates

The autumn wind tickled your barely visible face, your white wool scarf covering nearly everything but your eyes and nose. Your camel coat hugged your body, making you feel so cosy and keeping you warm. Clutching your fresh cup of coffee you stroll through the busy London streets admiring your surroundings. Newly moved here from a relatively small remote village from Ireland, the pace of, well everything, amazes you. No one acknowledging one another, being too preoccupied with their own work load or some thing or another. You had today off, your teaching job letting you stay home during the weekends. 

Your small frame made everyone look like a giant compared to you. At only five foot two nearly everyone towered over you. You weren’t that bothered about it anymore, growing used to, and loving your petite curvy body just the way it is. You had a body to kill for, and with the gym visits lately your health radiating through made you look a million bucks. After enjoying your walk, you start making your way home, set on grading the last 5 essays for this semester. On your way home you pick up a bottle of wine, to enjoy with your dinner later.

You get home to a text from Eleanor telling you you’re all going out tonight. By all she means you, her and about a dozen other friends from college. You and Eleanor have been friends since you were 15 and 10 years later the friendship is still as strong as it was a decade prior.After your recent break up you’re not really looking for anything too serious, making your visits to the club with your friends a lot more fun. Heck, you’re only 25 if you can’t live now, then when? And with that, you waste no time replying, telling her to come to your apartment at around 9. You make yourself that dinner, wash it down with a glass of wine and enjoy your cat’s company for a while before heading to your bedroom to start getting ready. 

You start the shower and blast some music on your speaker while you wash yourself. It was tradition after all. After getting out, you decide t pick your outfit while your body dries off. You settled on a red body con midi length dress, stopping just above the knee, with a pair of nude pumps you wore way too much. That dress made your skin look a caramel color, and made your chocolate brown locks look divine. Hair and makeup was easy, choosing to go for bouncy waves and a brown smoky eye. You looked good, Eleanor even acknowledging it. 

The club was busy, but it was a more select location, giving you space to breathe and clean usable bathrooms. You head straight for the bar, ordering a scotch and downing it in one go. Your party girl status still intact from college. Making your way to the crowded dance floor you decide to let loose for a little. The music taking control of your actions you started swaying your hips and dancing like there was no one there but you. It felt good, your senses all blurred from the whiskey, all you cold hear was the music and your matching heart beat. You loved dancing , it was a release for you and every time you had a chance to get your groove on was always greatly appreciated.

You were aware of the eyes laid upon your swaying body but as the 5th song ended you decided it was time for a break. As you near the bar, you notice and empty stool and run towards it, your feet needing a little time off. You turn to the bartender and order another whiskey. You take your time to take in your surroundings. You loved this place, especially the out door balcony over looking central London. The balcony was huge and there were so many plants and shrubbery there it felt like a heavenly get away. You decided to take your whiskey outside, to let your body cool down from all that dancing. 

There's no one outside, actually apart from you, there was one other person, a man. He looked to be about your age, maybe a bit older, with black hair slicked back into a bun. From the back you could tell he is well built, taller than you in your heels, but not by too much. You figured about five foot seven. His black jacket hung effortlessly on his broad shoulders, making him look oh so good from the back. He’s smoking, the smoke encircling him, making him look other worldly. He’s not even facing you and he already takes your breath away. 

You walk towards a bench outside, sitting about 10 feet away from this beautiful man. 

“ Aren’t you cold out here?” the words snap you out of your trance and you look up, only to lock eyes with his. You couldn’t muster a word. He literally took your breath away. Facial hair just perfectly groomed, pink plump lips curling into a smirk and those eyes, oh those eyes, not leaving yours for one second. 

“ I came here to cool down, too hot inside.” You both knew that was a lie. The place was air conditioned throughout the year, making it quite chilly at times. He took his time replying, taking his eyes from yours only knew that was a lie. The place was air conditioned throughout the year, making it quite chilly at times. He took his time replying, taking his eyes from yours lowering them and bringing them back up to meet yours.

“Fair enough, I’m Kit.” He held out his hand and you shook it, not failing to realise how it engulfed yours, sending a jolt down your spine. Or maybe it was the chilly night. You’ll never know. 

“Nice to meet you,” You tell him your name, but you already knew who he was, having  watched Game of Thrones religiously and Spooks Pompeii and any other film he’s appeared in. You let that go and get a little braver, finally your second drink beginning to kick in. 

You invite him to sit down beside you, him accepting almost immediately sitting a little too close. You didn’t tell him to move, enjoying the closeness. You spend a fair amount of time chatting hitting it off extremely well. His job came up and you admitted to watching him, not wanting to lie right off the bat. He was on his fourth whiskey as you were on your third when things started getting a little more interesting. Your hand grabbing his arm jokingly, his hand sweeping past your thigh  on more than one occasion, stolen glances every now and then, you were aware of the tension starting to build up. He takes matters into his own hands when he grabs your thigh while softly whispering sweet nothings in your ear, just to get to be close to you. You let him, loving every second of it, not wanting it to end any time soon. 

After shamelessly flirting he decides to take things further, pulling you onto his lap, letting his hands rest on your hips dangerously close to your ass. He looks at you, his smirk taking hold of his features making him look irresistible. You smile back, now obviously more comfortable around him. 

With that he inches closer, you mirror his actions, eagerly waiting something, anything. Instead he brings his lips to your ear, biting it lightly, eliciting a moan from you before whispering in your ear.

“I only kiss on dates.” With that he slips his phone number into my hand helping me to my feet, while walking away, only to turn around and mouth ’ Call me ’ before entering the club and disappearing from your sight. 

You stand there for a while, shocked and extremely pleased. You examine the piece of paper with his number on it, smiling like a fool. You turn to look out of the balcony while putting his number into your phone. 

He’s definitely getting a call tomorrow.

[imaginekitharington]

i. love. you.

thank you! i love you too

[imaginekitharington]

please post a story!!!!!!! it doesn't have to be a request I need another kit fanfic in my life :p

So this is the longest one I think I’ve ever written :)

These family get togethers were literally killing you. You never understood what it was about families that always pushed them to make it seem like everything between them was fine. Who was your family trying to kid? There were no guests here, with the exception of a few family friends, so you didn’t really get who this entire show was for, but you did have to admit that the backyard to your mother’s house was lavishly decorated for the occasion. With over fifty of your family members already here, tables were set up across the yard and around the pool where the kids were splashing. Dinner was going to be starting soon, your aunts had called it out over the music at least four times now. 

At twenty-six your family still wasn’t any better at addressing the fact that even though they could remember when you were a child, and just as small as your cousins, that time had come and gone long ago. There were only a handful of other cousins like you that were facing the same issues, but they were scattered across the party. Most of them were engaged, and this event saw them introducing their intended’s to other family members. The sight didn’t disgust you, because you were really happy for them (except Tinsley, she was an evil bitch). Your younger brother had been around here somewhere, but you were sure that he disappeared with your other teenage cousins, probably smoking weed in the basement or in the park down the street. 

And then there was your sister, Nicolette, whom your eyes tried hard to sweep over. It wasn’t that you’d hated her, well, that was a lie. You certainly didn’t like her as of late that was for sure. Because across the yard, standing by your mother and grandmother she stood, her arm twisted around that of Benjamin Archibald. It was hard to not look at him. He was gorgeous, he was kind, he was that guy that you picture bringing home to your family, as Nicolette was now. But it didn’t matter that you dated him in high school, it didn’t matter that he was your first love, because he wasn’t yours anymore, and your sister had no qualms about sweeping him up coincidentally when they’d met up at a bar not too long ago. 

Sure, it was high school. That was a long time ago. And yeah, he was your first boyfriend, first everything. You should’ve been able to get over that in the nearly ten years it’s been since high school ended, but how were you supposed to do that when he had been dating you Nicolette now for almost a year and a half? She called you when they’d met up to make sure that you were okay with her going out on a date with him. She called you. But you said yes, you couldn’t be mad right? Even if your sister wasn’t his type. She wasn’t the kind to go on hikes in the wood, she wouldn’t get so into the footy matches they’d go to that she’d get up and scream at the ref for his shitty calls, she wouldn’t do all the things the two of you did together half as good as you did. So when the two of them laughed at something you grandmother said, in unison, you knew it was fake. It was just a show for him. She always wanted what other people had when you two were younger, not much changed over time either. But there was still a scowl on your face. You could feel it and the way it seemed to arrive the same time you could feel your blood begin to boil. You didn’t even realize how tight you were clenching your fists. 

"Easy there Tyson," in front of you was a glass of red wine, which instantly made you feel better to see. You knew the hand it was connected to, the owner was the only reason you would be getting through today, but when you didn’t immediately grab the glass, he seemed to be second-guessing the choice, "Should I have gotten the Scotch instead?" 

You took the glass but still said nothing, only raising it to your lips and sipping it a bit with a shake of your head, “Wine is fine, thanks,” despite his presence beside you, the generous act of bringing you alcohol when he knew you needed it, and trying to humor you, you couldn’t tear your eyes from the two of them across the yard. 

It took a hand on your chin and some redirection to the face of your best friend for you to climb up from your sinkhole of mini depression, “Don’t make my job already harder than it is,” he commented, a slight plead in his tone that made you feel bad. He knew that this was going to be his purpose at the party would be to distract you from them, but he’d still agreed to go. He even flew all the way out for the weekend to do it, and you couldn’t even pull yourself from your own worries to enjoy his company. 

"I’m sorry," you shake your head hoping that your insecurities will fly off of the ends of your hair, before nodding, "I really appreciate you coming. My mom will be so happy to see you, she always liked you, you know," you remind him. You intentionally skip the part where your mom constantly urges you to make something of your friendship with Kit before someone else does. His family was honorable among England (not to mention the fact that both your mothers had known each other since college), he was successful, he hadn’t let that success get to his head, and she always felt like there was something there between the two of you. The only thing you saw between the two of you was you getting carsick in his mom’s car when you were six, him pushing you into a fountain in town when you were ten and hated each other, and that one lousy time you kissed in Peter Brougard’s treehouse. Eventually, you stopped hating each other but only when the two of your got lost at that god awful theme park you parents brought you to when you were thirteen. You didn’t have time to like each other, because when he moved to Worcester, you stayed in London. College roommate mothers saw that you two would never be separated for too long. You’d visit for weekends, or he would, but the distance only seemed to strengthen your friendship. You’d write, or email to fill the spaces between visits.

He slipped his free hand in the pocket of his jeans and when he turned to look across the yard at your mother, his profile smiled, “You have no idea how bad my mom dug into me for not telling her I was coming,” he proceeded to throw on a woman’s tone and give a pretty good impression of his mother angry. It made you smile because it was completely spot on. When it was over though, he turned to you again, “She still thinks we’re getting married.”

You gave a laugh, because your mothers had been saying this since you two left for college, “You think they planned on it?”

"Oh without a doubt. That’s why they fought so hard for us to get along. I’m still convinced they ditched us in that theme park."

"I never really thought about it, but yeah, now that you mention it.." 

"Makes sense, huh?" 

You nod. From behind the two of you, your aunts begin to bring out the platters for dinner. 

Everyone converges at the tables across the lawn for dinner. Your mother insists that her daughters and son sit together, so you drag Kit with you to sit between your mother and brother. You both endure some comments about how lovely a couple you’d make, and while you roll your eyes, Kit answers for you, “She’d never have me, she’s way too good,” he jokes and you roll your eyes at him instead while your mother watches the whole thing with that same delusional smile she always wears when she’s around the two of you. 

You excuse yourself to go get another bottle of wine from the cellar, and make your way to the house. When you look back you notice your mother’s wasted no time asking Kit about the show, and everything else personal she can squeeze from him (as if she didn’t already find out from his mother), but also that Ben’s seat next to your sister is empty.You swallow, because as soon as you walk in the kitchen he’s there, refilling the water pitcher. 

When he sees you there, he smiles but it’s a careful, cautious smile, “Hi.” 

You give him nothing but a tight-lipped one back and make your way to the the cellar.

"Hey, wait a minute," he calls, but there was no way you were going to stop. It didn’t stop him from following you though. When you reach the bottom of the stairs, he grabs your arm softly, and you try your hardest to act like his touch doesn’t give you tremors any more, "I need to talk to you, please." 

When you turn to him, his face is pleading, calling truce, and because your still as mushy as pudding when it comes to him, the scowl on your face softens, “What’s wrong?” 

Ben seems to breathe easier when he notices the change in you, and takes a deep breath in, “I know that your not okay,” you hate the tone his voice takes, like when your mother or father needs to talk to you about something serious. There’s a fear that builds in your throat, and a stinging that’s already threatening your cheeks, but you hold it, because he hasn’t even said anything, “I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you, I should’ve known when Nic told me you were fine with this, that it was a lie. She’s not very good at picking up unspoken hints,” he tried to joke with you. All you could offer was a measly excuse for a smile, “But then I always saw you with Kit, and I thought it was alright. I thought you two were together-“

"We’re not," your voice is stone cold. If you hadn’t been hanging around Kit all the time would he have refused Nicolette? All this time you’d thought that it was just Ben wanting Nicolette, but now that your mind had wandered to the fact that maybe if Kit and you hadn’t been so close then maybe things could’ve been completely different, there wasn’t much way of convincing yourself otherwise. You’d done it to yourself. 

"I know that now, but I didn’t know it then," he reiterates, "I figured you were happy. You were always smiling around him, laughing. You looked completely different than any other time we’d been together; happier, radiant, and more beautiful that your ever looked than when you’d been with me. It seemed genuine. I’d always felt like when we dated I pushed my interests on you, did I?" 

"No! Ben I loved all of it, I swear."

"But they were my interests. We always did everything I wanted to do, do you see? You did everything I wanted all the time, it made me feel spoiled. You were a great girl, but I was robbing you of it because I was too afraid of someone else having you,” he spoke, but you just wished he would stop. 

"So what, I loved you too much?" 

He shook his head, “No. I ruined it. I wanted you to myself, I’m in the wrong. I knew the way you loved me, and I was overprotective, I got jealous, and I wanted you to be about me all the time. I didn’t think about you. God, don’t you see?” 

You didn’t.

"I was never right for you. You deserve someone better than that. I though you’d found him. I think you have," you don’t entertain that comment, it’s not what was important to you right now, "I’m sorry that the one I fell in love with is your sister, but I followed you don’t here for a reason," when he reaches in to his pocket, you know exactly what he’s going to pull from in there, and turn away. You press a hand to your forehead, and pace the cellar.

When he begs you to turn around you, stop. And when you do you wish you hadn’t. In that box is a gorgeous ring, and it glints the cellar light straight into your eye for an extra pang of pain to your stomach, “I want to marry her, but I won’t ever ask her until you approve first.” 

"Jesus Christ," you sigh, your brows narrowing in. Today was officially the worst day of your life. But when you looked at Ben’s face you couldn’t tell him no. Even as he stood before you telling you exactly what you didn’t want to hear about the relationship you’d always thought was perfect, the one that haunted you, he said it with no venom. When you dated him all those years, you were all about him. You didn’t care for others, you barely cared for yourself if it didn’t deal with staying pretty for him, and you even treated your best friend like he didn’t matter. Those were the only couple years that you and Kit hadn’t been close in your life. 

When you thought of your sister, you knew that half the malice that you had from her came from the fact that she was the pretty sister in your eyes, the one everyone preferred over your more jagged personality. She was the Disney princess and you were the one in the background doing everything her opposite. You knew that she had always had a mini crush on Ben from the way she would always talk about how adorable of a couple you were, but you never once saw her or suspected her of doing anything with him. Sure, you weren’t happy with how they began dating, but where being with Ben made you worse, he made her better. You wouldn’t be much of a sister to stand between that. 

He knew there was an internal conflict going on in your head so he stood by patiently with that same sweet smile on his face. All you could do was nod, and when he hugged you, you cried a little bit into his shoulder, but his hand on your back soothed you some, “You’re a gorgeous girl, and you’re all heart,” he spoke into your ear, and when he pulled back to hold your face and look into your eyes, you cried more, “There’s a guy sitting up there in the chair next to you, and he looks at you the way I know I never did. He’s looked at you that way since I met him the summer after we started dating. He speaks with you in mind, and he’s always there to shield you from everything, even me, which is why we’re in a cellar right now,” you laughed lightly, “That’s how you deserve to be treated.” 

Your eyes well, because every time that you blew Kit off, ignored his phone calls, and scampered after Ben comes to your mind. Even today. He’d flown all the way from set for only two days so that he could come and be here with you tonight, and all you’d been doing was pining for a lost love, “I’ve been so rotten to him.” 

Ben laughs, “You just didn’t know,” he shrugs, his thumb wiping away a tear before releasing your face, “But he’s still here, you know.”

He was right. 

"That he is," you nod, and look down to the velvet box in Ben’s hand, "Go ahead," you motion to the ring, "You have my blessing." 

He smiles brightly, a smile that you’d never seen on him before. He moves to hug you, but stops, nodding to himself excitedly, “Thank you,” he sounds like a kid who’d been told he could open one gift before Christmas morning. You step to him, and wrap your arms around his torso to hug him, and he embraces you back, but it feels different this time. When you pull back he kisses your cheek and points a finger at you and back upstairs and smiles that knowing smile before he retreats. 

When you’re alone in the cellar that even-keeled feeling you had a minute ago is gone, and you feel empty again. It was funny to you how you could royally fuck yourself over like you had and not even know it. So you grabbed two bottles of wine, and made your way back upstairs, uncorking them in the kitchen, standing on the patio for a minute before making your way out to the lawn. You watch him, Kit that was. Engaged in conversation with your mother, and sister, happily, and sipping his wine glass when Ben comes back to the table, but doesn’t sit. When the chime of silverware on glass rings out, you finally go back to sit at the table. 

Kit looks at you while Ben speaks up to grab the attention of everyone on the lawn, and watches while you fill your glass, “You go to France for that wine?” he chuckles as your stone face just looks at him. It’s only now that the joking hand that he placed on your knee felt a little more than just friendly, and the squeeze after it joined in on it. 

Both of your attention turns to Ben when the lawn goes quiet, and he begins speaking. His words were along the lines of how he felt welcomed by the family, his hand took Nicolette’s and you could practically feel Kit go stiff in his seat beside you. Your hand reached out for your glass of wine so that you could bring it to your lips and begin tossing it back. You closed your eyes but knew that your mother wasn’t even paying attention to you, but Kit had been. By the time that Ben had made it to his knee, the glass was empty, and you pointed over to Kit’s glass of wine on the table when your sister began squealing. He handed it to you without question, filling your glass, for a third just incase you needed it. 

"…will you marry me?" Ben asked and it only took a moment for you sister to shout her approval. As you finish the last mouthful of wine in the glass, your free hand on the table sinks beneath the table to your knee, and rests on top of Kits, squeezing lightly. 

Your mother bursts from her chair as family comes around to congratulate her. You look beside you to Kit whose only watching you as if he’s expecting you to explode in a matter of seconds, but you only give him a soft smile before standing up and making your way around the table to congratulate your sister. 

When dinner is over the commotion has settled, you emerge from the kitchen where you were helping your mother and aunts with dishes, and look over the back lawn. Your sister is surrounding by your female cousins who are all asking her questions about Ben and how they met. You know that she’s skipping out on the fact that she’d met Ben long before the bar, but when she looks up at you standing there. She smiles genuinely, her mouth twisting into a ‘thank you’, and it makes you feel good to know that she’s happy for once. 

When you look around the rest of the lawn you see Kit and your brother Jordy talking about something with a lot of excitement. He’s grasping the bottle of his beer tightly, before your brother clinks the necks and then both take a mouthful in. When he’s finished he looks around the backyard, and you wait until his eyes finally land on you, and you grin at him. He says something to your brother and a place a hand on his arm before you meet him halfway, “Had dish duty,” you say pointing back to the kitchen, “Hope Jordy didn’t spew too much nonsense in your head.” 

He laughs lightly, with a shake of his curls, “You okay?” he asks. 

Overall, you weren’t sure, but at this moment, you felt fine. So you grin at him again, and grab his hand to pull him along. You pulled him through your childhood home, and into your old room. When the door was locked, you finally turned to him and the confused look that dressed his face, “What are you doing?” he asks you, and suddenly he reverted back to the little boy in Peter Brougard’s tree house. He watches you closely as if you’re about to pull out a knife or a gun from absolutely nowhere and stab him. 

When you don’t say anything, he seems more confused. You move to sit on the edge of your bed, and pat the space beside you, but he doesn’t sit, “I just want to talk to you,” you explain, but he sits carefully as if he’s being tricked. 

He looks at you, confused, “Are you alright? Have you cracked?” he tries to joke and you smile to let him know that nothing too serious is going on. 

"I’m sorry."

"What could you possibly be sorry for?" 

"I haven’t always been as appreciative of you as I should have been…or be, I suppose," you correct yourself, and you notice that now he knows what you’re talking about. 

"We were in high school, I’m still here aren’t I?" he says, his neck rolling a bit at the mention of something so long ago. 

"Yes, but I’ve still been treating you that way, I did it today, but you never even say anything to me about it. Not once."

"What kind of friend would I be if I did?" 

You look him in the eye, “You’d be a regular friend,” you hope with the emphasis that you’ve put on the sentence that he would get what you were saying, “The fact that you don’t say anything to me about is what interests me,” you try to hold his eyes, but his gaze goes unsteady, “You’ve let me do that to you. You’ve let me treat you badly, but it took losing something I thought I wanted to make me realize that I had something great all along,” now he was definitely aware of what you were talking about. 

"I don’t know what you’re talki-"

"I’m sorry Kit," you say, your hand reaching over softly to his thigh this time, he watches your hand for a minute, before turning back to you, "I’m sorry I never saw you," your smile you face leaning in a bit to his. When your lips are close enough you look up to his eyes, before leaning in the rest of the way. 

He breathes in deep when your lips touch before when you begin to coax the nervousness from him with your lips, he responds, his arms wrapping around you to pull you closer. It was as if all you needed was to let him know you saw him, and the floodgate released. He kissed you slowly, but there was enough heat in his kiss to let a sweat bead break out at the nape of your neck. Long-stroked kisses on your lips, and a his arms are tight around your waist. 

There in your old bedroom, you shifted yourself atop him, resting your hips on his own while he grabbed at your sides. You tease his tongue to come out by tracing yours along his lips, but the teasing doesn’t entertain him, or at least that’s what the hand on the back of your head tells you. He wants to kiss you hard, and have you pressed against him as much as he can. In the midst of your kisses, he sits up, forcing you into a straddle on his lap, before pulling his head back from yours. He looks you square in the eye, narrowed brows facing you, “What happened?” he asks. 

"What?" you’re out of breath, and when you lean in to disregard his question and connect your lips again he pushes your shoulder back. You groan with a little frustration, and sit on his lap to give your haunches a break. 

Suddenly he’s nervous again as if he doesn’t want to know, but needs to, “Is this because of their engagement?” he was afraid he was the leftovers. Your shoulders slumped, and from where your arms were wrapped around his neck, you slid them to his shoulders, one trailing forward to his scruffy jawline. 

Your head drops for a moment, “Ben had come to the cellar while I was getting the wine earlier to ask for my blessing to propose to my sister. That’s what took me so long before,” you tell him, looking up into his brown eyes. He looked the most vulnerable right now, scared that the answer may be close to what he had suspected, “He told me exactly what I needed to hear in regards to why things ended between us, but he spent more time talking about you.”

Kit didn’t seem angry by that fact, just intrigued, “Why me?” 

And now you grinned, because now was the time where you’d be able to tell him something that would make him feel like he was the first choice she needed, “Because even he realized when I was dating him that you were the right guy, it’s the reason he didn’t come back for me ever again. He saw you, and how close we are, the way you look at me,” your thumb strokes his cheek, as you take in the way he watches you, “the way you talk about me, the way you protect me, and thought we were together, and he left me alone all because you were beside me,” the hand on his shoulder slides around his neck to bring you both closer, and you move against him, pressing your chests together. Your face drifts closer to his, hand on his jaw creeping into his hair, your lips brush his for a minute before retreating to hold his gaze, “If everyone else can see it, then it’s time I opened my eyes…You should’ve always been my first choice, and I can’t change what I’ve done, but I can give you the attention you deserve.” 

The smile that crosses his face is new, one that you’ve never seen him wear, but it’s the most adorable one you’ve ever seen on him. There’s a hand that smoothes over the top of your head and rests beneath your neck, “I didn’t expect this at all,” he confesses with a slight laugh, and it’s as if that smile is glued to his face, he sighs, and hastily presses a kiss to your lips quickly, “I don’t even know what to say.” 

You grin, both your hands finding their way to his shoulders, and pushing them down into your mattress, “Well,” you tell, looking down to his surprised face. You rest your hands on his chest and shrug a little, a playful smile on your face, “I can think of a lot of things that the both of us can say,” you tell him, your hands shifting to the hem of your shirt, and pulling up and over your head, “But none of them involve words.” 

[imaginekitharington]

Hello!!! I discovered you yesterday and I spent all night reading your stories. I loved them! So I would like to ask you if you could write a story about Kit and a girl who have been best friends for years and realise they have feelings for each other so they end up together.

There was sunlight rolling through the window and pressing on your face with heavy heat, and blinding shine. It made you squeeze your eyes closed, and if possible, amplified the twenty-pound weight that took residence in your head. You groaned at the pain that started off small, but as you grew more and conscious, it spread. Opening your eyes only made it worse, but you did it anyway. There were only the navy blue satin sheets staring back at you, and you were grateful they weren’t the bright mint green ones you were used to. 

You blinked a bit as you, sat up on your elbow and reached over to the nightstand to your left for you phone, but what your hands laid on wasn’t a nightstand. It felt like skin, and when your fingers moved around you were able to put together that you were touching someone’s face, “What the hell are you doing?” you recognized that voice but it still confused you as to why you were hearing it. 

Snatching your hand back, you rubbed your eyes, and opened them to realize that the room you were in wasn’t yours. You recognized it though. This was Kit’s room, and when your head finally craned around, you found him laying beside you, “Why am I here? Did I pass out in the cab again?”

You watch through squinted eyes as he picks his face up from the pillow, eyes adjusting to the sunlight in the room as well. His hair was more disoriented than normal, with the longest ringlets ticking the back of his bare neck, “Hell if I know,” he mumbled into the pillow as he dropped his face into it again, “I wish I could even remember how I got here,” he continued but the only thing you could really think about was how good and refreshing his satin sheets felt against your…skin? 

You were grateful that his face was in the pillow as you pulled the blue satin up to cover your bare body, “Kit,” you spoke with worry, but he just hummed from within the pillow, “I’m naked.” 

"Maybe you threw up on yourself," he suggested. 

"I’m pretty sure I probably didn’t throw up on my bra and underwear," you spoke struggling to sit up, "Plus, they’re on the floor." 

Groaning once more you turned to your mop-top of a best friend as he flipped over in bed and looked beneath the sheets, “What do you know…” he cleared his throat, as he looked over to you, “You don’t think we…?” 

You ran a hand through your hair, and leaned back against the headboard, feeling a sting on your bottom half, “Fuck,” you muttered, and could feel him turn to you, “I’m sore.” 

And now you couldn’t even meet his eyes, but you knew he wasn’t even looking in your direction. His eyes were burning a hole into the sheets as the realization of what the two of you had done truly settled in. There was silence throughout the room, but mostly because you literally had no idea what to say now. 

So instead of saying anything, you opted to turn to the edge of the bed, grab you bra and underwear to slip on, took the gown you had worn to your sister’s wedding from last night, and quietly move out of the room. 

You didn’t know what really needed to be said about the fact that you had slept with your best friend last night, but you just knew that you couldn’t really sit in that bed with him anymore. Setting your gown over the toilet seat, you shifted your gaze to the mirror to take in your face. The hairspray that the other bridesmaids had sprayed on your face did the trick of keep your make-up in place, because it still looked pretty good. Leaning over the sink, you rub some cold water over your forehead and cheeks to cool you off.

You’ve known Kit since high school, and after taking a few classes together and having a couple mutual friends, the two of you had become friends. Sometimes you annoyed each other, but at the end of the day he was your best friend. Your dad, a military man, had been stationed in Worcester for a few years, but when he saw how well you were settling into the area, he took a job that offered a permanent residence. You would be lying if you said part of you wasn’t excited to be able to stay with your best friend. You went to separate colleges but it never kept the two of you apart.

Sure, there were moments in you and Kit’s friendship where things seemed a little more than friends-ish but that was mostly when the two of you were in high school and a little in college when you were a bit more wild with your pursuits. You weren’t much older now, but because of the distance the two of you had put between anything romantic about your friendship, you had forgotten that he was even a guy capable of making you…sore…down there.

Part of you was impressed though. Sure, you were hungover and feeling like the epitome of death, but besides the tenderness between your legs, you had never felt more refreshed. It’s not like you hadn’t ever though about Kit in that way, because you had. Every time he’d spoken about someone new that he was dating, you thought about how he’d be with them. Probably charming, polite, just the right amount of physical touch, but what got you what he must’ve sounded like talking to her. His voice would probably drop an octave deeper, and he’s speak in a hushed tone that only she could hear. There’d be a sly grin ticking his face, and those brown eyes would be focused solely on her and they wouldn’t break like they did with her. 

"Are we going to talk about this?" he asked from the other side of the door, and you blinked away your current line of thought.

You rested your hands on the edge of the sink for a moment. You really didn’t want to have this talk with him. The last thing you wanted was to have one night of stupidity ruin what you had with Kit and yet, part of you really wished you could remember anything about last night past the wedding. You should’ve known that by agreed to do the wedding challenge you had found online with would result in something massively stupid, but you hadn’t suspected something of this caliber. You knew where you’d lost it too. 

Take a shot for every time you catch the bride and groom looking lovingly into one another’s eyes. 

Between that and the every time you catch someone crying rue killed the both of you. Your sister being the hopeless romantic and your mother being the emotional train wreck she was, you both were doomed from the start.  

But you couldn’t stay in his bathroom forever, so you opted to open the door, and there he stood in front of you. His hands were on the doorframe so that when you opened the door he stood before you with no way to the rest of the apartment, but that’s not what you computer first. Instead it was the fact that he was in front of you, with nothing but a pair of sweatpants hugging his hips. You looked him in the eyes, but his were focused on the fact that you hadn’t thrown on your gown. The two of you had seen each other with at least one article of clothing off, but never did were you as naked as just your bra and underwear. 

At this point what did it matter? You know that, but it didn’t stop you from crossing your arms over you a little bit, protectively. When they two of you made eye contact, it was brief so your spirits dropped. You couldn’t look one another in the eye. You knew you’d never really see him looking directly at you the way you imagined he’d looked at other girls in this position, with eyes locked on your own. 

"So how do we handle this?" you didn’t really know what other way to confront this other than how you would a problem, but that’s what this was, wasn’t it? 

He just watched you for a moment with raised eyebrows, “Handle this?” he almost laughed, “Hold on, let me go back in my room and get my time reverser.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, “You know what I mean, Kit.” 

"No, not really sure I do." 

You lift one of his arms from the door frame to pass him and make your way to his kitchen for a glass of water. Your head was beginning to pound against your skull, and you were sure that if you didn’t get water soon you wouldn’t be much use for the rest of the day. 

"Alright, so in your book how do we go about ‘fixing’ this?" he’s following behind you, but stops on one side of the island counter. You pull two glasses from the cabinet, and proceed to fill them with ice. 

You shrug, “I don’t know, but we should at least talk about it, right?” you ask before using the water dispenser on the fridge to fill both glasses. As you fill the first one, the feeling of the glass going cold sends a shiver through your body. 

"We should."

When you slide the glass over to him, he seems to be smiling which you don’t really understand. Why was he smiling, did he think this was funny? Was this all you that was the problem? Maybe. 

When the second glass was full you took a seat beside him at the island, and wrapped your finger around the glass’s wet chill. 

"So talk," he beckoned, raising the glass to his lips. 

"Uhm," and suddenly everything you wanted to say seemed so far away from your tongue, "Well…" and you were blowing it. Completely. But what should you say? Something had to be put out there. Were you supposed to just get out of his bed, get dressed and act like nothing happened. It kind of irked you that he didn’t seem to see what the big deal was, "You seem really unbothered by this." 

He shrugged, his finger wiping away the fog from his cold glass, “I’m not unbothered, I just don’t really see what we can do about it now.”

He was right there was nothing to be done about it now, but there was so much you wanted to say about this. it didn’t seem as finished and done as it did to him. 

Maybe part of you always thought this would’ve been your gateway. You hoped that this would make him realize-

No. Nothing needed to be realized. That’s not what this was. 

"Well, I mean, yeah, but-" 

"Look, I don’t not care about this. I don’t want you to think that that’s what I’m thinking," he made a face at his choice of words, "It happened. To be honest, it was bound to happen some time," he chuckles a bit with a shrug. 

"So that’s it?" you ask, eyebrows jutting upwards as you look to him. 

He looks at you then. Square in the eyes, but it’s still different than you expected, but he eyes stick to yours for a second before flitting back down to his glass. He voice drops a little, gets deeper, “What else do you want me to say?” 

It’s your turn to watch him now, “I don’t know,” you confess, slowly shaking your head, it was starting to hurt to talk so you sipped from your glass, before sighing, “It just seems so over for you. It doesn’t feel like that for me.” 

His eyes skip to you, and you can feel them watching you, you don’t need to look up to know that. You hadn’t realized how much you said until the reply you were waiting for from him never came. When you look at him, it’s the first time you notice his gaze doesn’t waver, and you keep the eye contact.

You want to curse yourself because you realize that you’ve told him what you’ve fighting to tell yourself, “Shit,” you mutter, and your eyes turn back to your glass and you close your eyes. The room suddenly feels really small, and there’s a lot of pressure on your throat so you breathe deep through your nose and try to calm yourself, “Look, I’ve already made this entire post-coital situation a lot worse than it needs to be,” you tell him, placing your hands on the counter and pushing yourself to your feet, “I’m gonna go back to my place.”

When you leave his vicinity in the kitchen, you’re disappointed because you were hoping he’d pull one of those movie moves where he grabs your hand and tells you that he feels the same way as you, but you head into the bathroom, grab your dress, and when you pass through the hallway again to get dressed and gather your things from his bedroom, he’s still sipping from his glass of water at the island.

Asshole. 

You’re in his bedroom, your phone on the nightstand is telling you it’s 12:45 in the afternoon, and you mood drops even lower. Today already sucks. You had a shit ton of messages from your mother, your sisters, one even from your brother and now you’re really wondering what you got into last night.

You don’t even hear him come into the room, but you feel him coming to you. By the time you turn and see him, he’s sliding a hand along your jawline, and pulling you waist against him, his lips easing on to yours. The sober feeling of them against yours gives you a shuddering chill, like you’ve submerged yourself in ice water.

It’s confusing but refreshing, makes your skin burn but forms goosebumps on your skin as if you were cold. You bring a hand to his bare chest, as his lips dance along yours in ways that make you dizzy enough to forget you even had a headache in the first place. There’s a tingling in your stomach that makes you feel weak, but you don’t really mind it.

And when he lays you down on those blue satin sheets, you grin and push him away from you for a minute, “Thanks for making me feel like an babbling idiot by the way.”

And then you saw it.  He was looking you square in the eyes, unwavering, with that stupid grin on his face. It’s only now that you realized you wouldn’t ever get that sly grin from him that you always imaged him giving to other girls. This was yours, the toothy grin that he gave you was the one he saved just for you. His voice didn’t drop a whole octave, but just a little a bit, because he didn’t need to woo you with the depth of his voice. But the hand that smoothed down your side and back up to sift into your hair, “Shut up,” he tells you, and takes your mouth again.

You decided that you could cross of polite and charming too.  

[imaginekitharington]

that bun tho.

Kit Harington attends the 66th Annual Primetime Emmy Awards held at Nokia Theatre L.A. Live on August 25, 2014 in Los Angeles, California

[imaginekitharington]

Kit Harington Headers (requested) ♡ 

✘ PLEASE like/reblog if you use/save ✘

[imaginekitharington]

can u do one where u go to an event with kit as his date? :)

"Does this limo feel bouncy to you?" 

Maybe it was just you, but you could feel ever bump and crater that the streets of LA had to offer. This limo ride was beginning to feel more like a rickshaw. To the credit of the driver, your hands were a little jittery before you got in, but the keyword there was ‘little’. 

"It feels fine to me, love." 

Yeah, that didn’t help your anxiety. Going out normally with Kit wasn’t a big deal to you, even if there were a few paps here and there. It was no biggie because you weren’t about to walk down an infamous red carpet at a gala with oodles of other famous people, with bulbs flashing in every direction that signaled a number of permanent photos that would be looked at and heavily scrutinized over the internet. Not to mention that even if you were just his date, the fashion police would probably notice how either great or awful they thought your outfit was. Being a girl was hard. 

From beside you, Kit grabs your hand as if it was supposed to be some kind of assurance, but instead all you could think of was how clammy your hand must’ve felt to him, “How do you do this?” You can’t seem to fathom how someone could sign up for this. Sure, when you were younger, and before you’d actually starting dating someone famous, you thought it would be quite glamorous to be a celebrity, but now you were about ten minutes from a red carpet and all you could think of was how nerve-wracking it must truly be. You were only a date too, a plus one.

Your hand smoothed over the pale yellow gown that Kit had ogled over you in. It was a bit daring for your first red carpet, but you liked to think that since you were working out and were beginning to like the toned but proportionate look that your body had taken on you figure you could wear the deep cut, and the fitted silhouette, no sweat. But there was a decent amount of sweat. 

"You look gorgeous, stop worrying," he told you when he finally turned your chin to face him. He leaned in and with the way his eyes looked at your lips you knew he wanted to kiss them, but they were painted a deep crimson that he didn’t seem to want to mess up before you even got there. So instead he settled for pressing them as close to your mouth as possible, before retreating and taking you in from the classic waves in your hair to the valley between your breasts that the dress dared to leave open, "If you’re not on any of those best dressed lists tomorrow, then people are seriously blind. You look phenomenal." 

You smiled genuinely, wanting to kiss him now more than ever. Who would’ve thought that the guy you used to drool over on the tube would end up being your boyfriend, or even the guy taking you to the Emmys. It was all too surreal, so you stopped thinking about it before you gave yourself a migraine. Because knowing you, it would happen. To calm yourself and give your hands something to play with, you reached over to his tie and tried to make it a little more straight. 

He’d looked far beyond dapper in the suit that his stylist had chosen for him. Even he was so impressed with it that when he’d come home the day from trying it on he wouldn’t stop blabbering about how well the Tom Ford suit seemed to fit him. However, he didn’t much like the joke you made about it hugging his curves. But you got it now. When you two had both emerged, finished like polished trophies, you marveled at one another. The suit paired with the fact that he’d decided to slick back his mass of curls into a his little bun was enough to yank at your lady parts, but it was too early in the night for that. And the knot on the tie was remarkable. An Eldridge knot it was called, and you’d be damned if it wasn’t going to be his trademark whenever you could actually get him to slide into a suit. 

"Don’t mess it up, now," he warned, but when your eyes drifted to his you could tell he was only poking fun at you. You hands merely made sure that it was tight before gliding to his face.

He didn’t shave for the event but it was alright, he still looked like a billion (not million) bucks to you. Against the smooth terrain of your hands, his scruff was brutal, but in the best way possible, and your thumb trekked the same path over his cheek repeatedly, “You look amazing,” there was really nothing else you could say right now, because that was all that was on your mind, “I know there’s gonna be a lot of photos being taken, but I won’t be looking at those cameras. You’re the only thing I’m interested in watching.” 

While your eyes drift far and over his face, his are fixed to watch them with the hopes that they’d drift back over and notice their gaze, “Someone’s sparked on the charm tonight,” he comments with a creeping grin ghosting across his features, and changing the entire map of his face for something brighter, “It means a lot to me that you’re here with me. I know I’m not good with words, but this, this,” there’s a jiggle of your hand where it rests on his thigh as the car begins to slow, “Is all of where I want to be, all the time. There’s nothing I look forward to more than turning around or looking up and seeing that you’re near me. It’s my relief, and it’s my comfort,” he looks satisfied with what he’s said, and when the knock sounds on the window he leans into you briefly to just as you had, press his lips to the corner of your mouth. 

It was unlike the one you’d given him. His kiss was softer than fresh cotton sheets, but he held them there and breathed in soft and deep through his nose. The sensuality of it jolted the hair on the back of your neck to attention, and elicited a wave of stinging through your cheeks. When he’s stepped out of the car you finally open your eyes, only now hearing all the commotion beyond the back seat of the limo where you were weak-kneed. Kit’s hand was outstretched for you and as you gathered the pale yellow skirts of the Michael Costello gown into your hands and tried as gracefully as you could to get to your feet. 

Once his hand was in yours, he didn’t let you go, and where you thought you’d be nervous before the array of flashing bulbs pummeling your eyes, you grew used to it after a few minutes, because now there was nothing that could’ve gone wrong. Your make up and hair were done so impeccably that you were confident that a walk down a little red carpet, some smiling, and maybe a few words of support for Kit were nothing you couldn’t handle. 

And like you said, as the two of you posed for pictures against the Emmy backdrop, you found your eyes shifting over to Kit beside you. His arm reinforced your back and his eyes smiled for the cameras, and you knew you should’ve been doing the same, but here you were, staring at him like some dreamy-eyed Disney character. He was, well, beautiful. The flashing of the bulbs light up his face repeatedly, and as the reporters shouted questions to him, he just remained smiling if not giving a little chuckle here and there. You could bet the the headlines of these pictures would come out later saying something along the lines of ‘Harington’s date, smitten or mad?’ but it didn’t really seem to matter now.

When he looks over to you and notices your focus, he sends a different smile to you, one that stretches further, “You weren’t kidding were you?”

You shake your head happily, “No, but I’ll stop now. I probably seem like a class one creep,” you say and turn to the cameras. You smile, make sure that your posture is secure as you change your gaze to different cameras, but when you make your way around to him again, you find that he’s staring at you. You laugh, “Is this your way of trying to one up me?”

"Maybe. I think it’s working. Now we both look a little goofy, don’t we?" 

Your grin is genuine and it’s not budging, in fact, he only makes it bigger, “We do,” you want to kiss him, but it would garner too much commotion, and you didn’t want it to seem like the kiss would only be for show. It would be genuine, “A pair of fools.” 

The hand on your back, snakes further around your waist, as you move down the carpet. You listen as Kit does a few interviews here and there, and while they don’t air it on TV since you’re not famous, they do as you about who you’re wearing and comment that you’re a lovely date for Kit. You see why it’s all a bit phony seeming, but the thrill of being there pushes it aside. 

You spend the show ogling the other celebrities in the room so much that you can’t really form words when Kit asks you things here and there. You clap for him though when Game of Thrones wins the awards it does, including one or two that require him to go up with the cast. You try to keep your emotions in check when he leans over to kiss you before making his way to the stage. The woman beside you in your seat admires the two of you. 

Before you know it, you’re at the after party, and before you is a sea of talent that you want to swim in but aren’t sure where to go or even how to tread. So you keep close to Kit, speaking with a few of the cast members you know, who introduce you to other people and steer you away from the dapper gentleman you can’t help but look for. When the room seems void of his presence, you step outside on the massive terrace where a municipal bay seems to have come about. Standing by the railing is where he’s posted, Richard, and Peter with him, but when they see you coming they greet you but decide to go inside. 

You look to the cigarette between his fingers, “Stress or celebratory?”

He puts it out beside him, and reaches in his pocket to pop some Altoids in his mouth, “What could I possibly have to be stressed about?” 

Your shoulders bob with uncertainty, “Hell, if I know. Just asking is all.” 

"Come here." 

And you do. His hand is outstretched for you to take, and when you’re near enough his arms encircle you from behind, a chin coming to rest on your shoulder overlooking the Los Angeles skyline. You exhale easily, and relax against him behind you.

"You held up well for the night," he jokes with you, and you smirk. 

"Not too bad yourself. How many times did you have to douse the fro in water to keep it slicked?" 

There was a silence. 

"Three," he says quietly, and you laugh as you turn around in his arms to check out the job. 

"Not bad."

"I’ve had two and change decades keep this thing in order, you know." 

You nod, running your hand flat along his hairline to smooth a rebellious curl, “I’m just messing with you, babe,” you grasp saunters down to his shoulders. The two of your stand there, and your faces inch towards one another as your smiles begin to drop. You feel his hands ghosting over your sides and dangerously close to your rear and you lean in to him. You expect a kiss, but he holds his face inches from yours and you can even feel his eyes opening. 

You open yours as well, and find his stare soaking up your profile as if he were gathering all the details, “You’re a dream.” 

"Wake up," you tell him, placing a kiss lightly against his lips. 

When you draw away a little, you feel his move again but to do something far more better than kiss you, “I love you,” he tells you and it’s as if someone doused you in ice water. His eyes warm you over as they peer into yours, focused and sharp, “I’m pathetically in love with you.”

You watch him back, just waiting as your throat goes dry, and hoarse. Your vision shakes a bit as your heart clatters against the cavity of your chest just threatening to break through and jump out into his jacket pocket. You swallow, but there’s no avail and when you breath in deep, you breath hitches in your throat and you choke on it a bit. You draw a hand to cover your mouth as you try to cough to clear it.

He’s in love with you. It should’ve been obvious shouldn’t it? The way that the two of you have been all night. You were sure it was just the event that made him realize it, but he babbles on when you’re stunned silence only faces him, “I’ve been in love with you since the first time you stayed in my apartment. I woke up in the morning and forgot you were even in bed with me. It wasn’t until I came back to the room with my tea that I just saw you laying there, in my bed, and I just sat there and watched you. There was a million other things I should’ve or could’ve been doing but I stayed there, and watched you sleep. I didn’t care when you woke up and found me there like that what it would look like.” 

You remember that morning. The sun was blasting through his windows, so you turned away from it, and fell back asleep. You hadn’t even noticed him there, but when you woke again you saw him laying there next to you. He was laying on his side with a book in between the two of you, stealing glances up at you. When you awoke he quickly closed the book and set it aside without even marking his page. 

"You don’t have to say it back, but just…I wanted you to know, you can do what you want with my heart. It’s yours," you attention focuses directly on his eyes because it’s most vulnerable thing that you’ve ever heard anyone say, and it hits a chord in your stomach, low where you didn’t even know you could feel. The kind of chord that was once reserved for cute puppies, and the characters in movies that say the exact same things, except this was real. 

There was no way you could even think to say no, not that the thought had crossed your mind, but you found yourself at a loss. You weren’t one of those girls who got overly emotional and cried about things, but your saw your vision going blurry, and then you felt it. The tear racing down your cheek was itching for freedom from your duct but trying to hide from being seen on the way. When it met his finger, it sauntered off your face like it never existed. As if by instinct for a minute you lean into the touch of his hand, and lean in to him, eyes still open and on him until you can feel his breath dancing across your lips, “Ever mine. Ever Thine. Ever ours,” you knew it was corny, but judging by all the books of poetry strew about Kit’s flat you knew he’d know where this one came from, “I’ve been in love with you since you forgot to dog ear that page when you closed the book that morning, since you flew back to New York that night just to be there for my brother’s graduation, and since that night my father and you got shit-faced off his Scotch at the fourth of July party,” he grins at that last one and for a split second your lips touch, “I’m crazy about you, Kit.”

He looks better than you’ve seen him all night and the only thing you were peering into were his eyes, until he kissed you. You expected force and conviction, but he gave you soft and stroking. You didn’t need grandiosity or fervor when you had this. Like the rest of your love together, this was slow and savoring, his force was in the way he pressed you to him, locking you into his grasp. It already felt like the world was converging in on the two of you, but in the best possible way you could imagine. It was closing in because, to you, you two were the only two in it. Nothing else mattered, nothing else could even garner a care from you. 

But when he pulled away from you he just sunk his head to your shoulder, “Home?” he asks you. 

"Home."

[imaginekitharington]

hello out there

so, i'm sorry i've been a massive doucher and haven't updated this place. my inbox has requests in it and you'll all be happy to know that i'm working on them as we speak. some of them kind of overlap each other so if i didn't specifically answer your request, make sure to check what the ask was because it was probably similar or the same as yours. so glad for all the love the blogs been getting despite my absence, you're all the best. 

keep a look out, and feel free to send in some more requests, but maybe some submissions as well. i'm sure you're all talented with the kinds of asks i've been getting, i'd like to see how you see them playing out in your head as well! 

xx aubrey

[imaginekitharington]

Heated argument/lover's quarrel

"You really think I don’t see it?" "I think you see what you want to see…that’s what I think."It’d been two hours already. Two hours of incessant arguing had started from something small, but somehow the two of you had begun to hash out every little measly problem that you had with each other. From the lingering stench of cigarettes from him smoking in the house and the crumbs that you leave in the bed all the way to that co-worker of yours that hit on you at last years Christmas party and whether or not you’ve been leading him on. In all fairness, sometimes you did, but only because you liked the way he looked at you. It reminded you of the way Kit used to. You watched as for about the thirtieth time in the past ten minutes, he ran his fingers through the mess of curls atop his head to the point where they were starting to frizz. Rolling your eyes, you pulled a hair tie from around your wrist and flicked it at him. He flinched a bit to close his eyes, the small circle hitting him in the face. You weren’t sorry, but now he was staring at you sharply. His lips were turned in, and you could almost swear that you’d waved your red cape in front of a raging bull. "Nice," the deep intake of breath told you he was trying to calm himself, but the snarky smile on your lips was probably only making it worse. You’d gotten to the point in your argument where you were just doing things to tick him off, it was obvious you weren’t going to win this anyways and then you’d be succumbed to the wretched cycle that was this relationship. You two would walk away from each other and in a half hour act like the fight never happened. Until it did, and then it would just start all over. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but by now you were so passed that whole work out your problems by talking bit. 

[imaginekitharington]

Well, it's Tuesday. Could I perhaps request a Comfy Tuesday with daddy!Kit? Boy or girl, doesn't matter to me. (Unrelated, but I LOVED your smut fic.) Thank you in advance!!

(Thank you!)

You can hear it through your dream, the knocking. It had no power, but it has urgency. You groan a bit and roll over in your bed, your hand lazily reaching out to the nightstand to allow your phone to tell you what time it was. 11:15. The two of you had gotten really boring. You’d only been asleep for about twenty minutes now but you like to think that both you and Kit deserved it. After putting the kids to sleep, the two of you immediately cleaned up the mess they’d made as quickly as you could and raced to the bedroom where you attempted to quietly fuck one another into the early night of sleep you were indulging in. Yeah, that lasted a while. You groaned softly before you heard it, the whimpers, and sniffles. You stir a bit on your stomach, the heavy arm over your back moving to tighten his hold on you. You lift your head and turn it to face the side of the bed where he slept. There’s a curl hanging over his forehead and his eyes are closed, breathing steady. Kit was knocked out. You raise an arm to the one reaching out over you, “Hey,” you whisper to him softly, your hand shaking the thick arm beneath it. You hear him breathe in before you see him move, and his eyes blink short before opening with sleep cluttering them as he tried to look at you. He hummed as if to ask what was wrong, “Caden’s at the door, throw something on,” you tell him, you words slurred almost as if you were drunk as he nods. While he leans over the edge of the bed to grab them, you slide out, picking up a stray tank and yoga pants to throw on as you hear him knocking and calling out for you again. 

"Mommy? Daddy?" Caden’s little gurgles pull at your heart strings and with a final look back to Kit reaching over to turn on the light, sitting atop the bed rubbing the sleep from his eyes in a pair of sweats. You wait til he meets your eyes, a toothy, and sleepy smile spreading across his lips as he gives you the thumbs up. Twisting the door open, you come face to face with the tear-stained face of your little boy. At five years-old, now was around the time when Caden was beginning to continually suffer from nightmares. You and Kit had made the mistake of letting him watch a horror movie one night when he begged and pleaded and now you were paying for it continuously with late night visits to your door, "Aww baby," you say, squatting down to your haunches only to speak to him, but as soon as you do he throws his arms around your neck and hugs you tightly. That same pulling at your heart strings is back, and you hold him to you tightly to you the way a mother should. Your hand smooths over the same unruly curls as his father and lull him to security, telling him that it’s okay and the monster from that movie isn’t real, but he keeps crying anyways so you just keep hugging him.

"Come here, kiddo," Kit calls from the bed where he sits comfortably, and as Caden retracts from your arms, you place a kiss on his forehead before he makes his way over to where Kit sits atop the bed comfortably. It’s only now that you notice Paddleford, the old brown bear that you’d had as a little girl and had only recently handed down to him, hanging from his hand. You closed the door, hearing Kit lift your son atop the bed to lay beside him, beneath his arm.

The little voice of you son proceeds to tell Kit about his dream complete with nervous stutters, and his little changes in pitch when it got to a particularly frightening part. Your feet take you to the bathroom, feeling Kit’s eyes watch you when you do. You step into the bathroom quickly to pee, wash your hands and come back over to the bed. When you enter the room again Kit’s talking Caden down, the little boy cuddling against the side of Kit’s chest. The image makes you smile because this is what you’ve dreamed of from the moment you and Kit had discussed having kids. The both of you knew early on that you wanted a family together and in no time, Caden was born, A bouncing baby boy, with Kit’s hair and your eyes. It’d be another two years until your little girl Giselle followed, and if you thought Kit was happy with a boy, he was a total sap with a little girl of his own. 

Making your way around the bed, you slide in on your side and turn to the two of them, hearing Caden ask if he could sleep with the two of you here in the room, “Of course, love,” you tell him with a smile, and pull one of your pillows from beneath your head to place beneath his. You reach over to the nightstand and flick on the tv, finding a cartoon channel to put on for him until his little eyes finally close with tire. You look over at Kit whose smiling at his son, his hand moving to brush a stray curl away and out of his face, “He doesn’t even look like me,” you whisper to him as your eyes stay on Caden’s face with a sense of disappointment, “Besides the eye color, you’d never know he was my son too,” you pout at Kit who just smiles proudly. 

"My genes are just stronger than yours, it happens," he shrugs, a shit-eating grin on his face. You reach a hand over and pinch his arm hard, "Ow!" he emphasizes, his hand quick to grab yours and hold it tight, "So hostile…" He loosens his hold on your wrist, but tangles your fingers together the way he knows you usually do, and looks at you, "They’re both perfect, just like their mother."

Your lips turn up at Kit, and you nearly roll your eyes at him in a joking manner. His lips touch the skin of your hand softly, meeting each fingertip until he reached the last, “Well, aren’t you just the Casanova,” he smirks against your hand, dropping it on your side of the bed.

He turns to flick off the light, and set the sleep timer on the tv, “Go to sleep smart ass,” he muses, feigning hurt and rolling over in the dark. 

"I love you," you call, your voice all sing-songy, but he just waves you off. With a light chuckle you hug your song to you, and drift off into sleep again knowing that soon enough, Caden would be up and jumping atop your bed for the two of you to wake up. 

[imaginekitharington]

hi everyone!

so i'm so glad to be getting requests from you guys! it shows me that you're excited about the blog, which makes me super happy. my inbox is flooded with images from you guys and they're coming! so for a while until i can chop down some of them, i'm going to be closing the requests box so i can catch up to you guys. but don't fret, the requests will be open again as soon as i get a few done. i'm hoping to post maybe two more tonight before i hit the sack. 

[imaginekitharington]

Can you list some of the other blogs like this one that you mentioned?

Of course. I'm on the phone so I can't do links but look up:+ KitHaringtonFanfic+ HaringtonSmiles

[imaginekitharington]

u have answered my prayers by making this blog, thank u so much

No need! There weren't many Kit-themed fic sites before, but I've found there are more now, this blog included. Glad to add to the bunch and so happy you enjoy it!

[imaginekitharington]

:3 can you do a first meeting/first date?

The short jingle came through the speakers as the train rolled into the station, the doors slid open and the people along the platform shuffled inside. Among them was you, coming back from work like many of the other men and women surrounding you. You’d always wished for a job that could help you avoid the tube during rush hour, but that’s what you got for living in a city like London. Not like New York was any better, or the subway for that matter. 

Stepping on and looking around inside didn’t offer you any relief because every seat was taken. The beige pumps on your feet now seemed too small, and the thought of even having to stand in them for another minute made your insides turn, but you swallowed it down and moved to stand next to a bar and grab hold of it to lean back against the door of the other side right over the sign that told you not to. The train filled, bringing more people closer than they ever thought to be with people on the train. It almost made you smile. The subway was the one place besides a nightclub where you would be uncomfortably forced against people you barely even knew, and not be able to do much about it. 

You shifted your weight in your heels, as the doors closed and the train began to move with a slight jolt, and now began the ride home across town. Ten stops separated you and your flat, and you couldn’t wait. You sighed, and your eyes shifted along the train taking in the other occupants, some reading, staring off or chatting, and that’s when you see him again. You couldn’t miss him with the same head of dark curls tucked behind his ear as he was focused on some book or papers. It always happened this way, you would see him, or he would see you, before you blushed and turned away. He was your tube crush, but sadly nothing more. You watched him for a moment, wrapped up in whatever he was reading until the train pulling to an abrupt stop, snapped you to attention.

Nine stops away.

Raising your head, you watched people stand to get off, and spotted a seat only a few down and across from your curly-headed crush, and when the people get off, you walk as stable as you can in your heels to the seat before more people had a chance to hurry on board. When you sit you let out a sigh a little louder than you’d expected and close your eyes, the sound of people shuffling on to the train may muted you out. Your once screaming feet are at ease as your weight is taken off of the and you cross your legs beneath the olive green pencil skirt you’d worn to the office today. Placing the brown almost briefcase-like purse on your lap, you relaxed into the seat before moving your eyes to steal a glance at your crush. As if he knew when you turned to him, his eyes shift up from his book, now that you can see it, and look at you with a small smile, and he waits for you to return it like usual. You try to fight it, but one slips across your face and cheeks whether you wanted him to it or not. Seeming to notice your hesitance, he closes his book and sits back, his eyes not leaving you for a second, but you shift yours as the station is announced and the train slows. You know it’s not his usual stop but you watch him stand with the other people on the train waiting to leave and your heart drops a bit. Your eyes shift to the book in his hand, and try to read the title, but recognize the cover art almost immediately after. 

He stops in front of you, holding on to the railing and giving you a side glance for a moment, his smile still prevalent. You look up to him, “Good book,” you say, and he turns his face to you as the train pulls to a stop.

He seems delighted that you said something to him, and looks down at you with a gleam in his eyes, “Glad you think so,” he says, and you enjoy finally being able to place a voice to such a good looking face, silently thanking God that his voice was as smooth, and deep as you thought it would be. But then he pulls something from within one of the pages as the doors open, and people begin to shuffle out of the car, and hold the piece of paper folded out for you to take, “Maybe we can talk about it then?” but he doesn’t wait for you answer because you just look at him, one side of your mouth quirked into a smile more than the other, and with that he walks out, flashing you one more look before he’s gone.

A couple days later finds the two of you wandering the streets of London, your date’s hand place flat over his stomach to give it a decent rub, “That was emmaculate,” he told you, your walk beside one another slow and lingering. You’d taken him to the only authentic American burger place you knew of in all of London, the only one worth going to. You were never really a salad type of girl anyways, but he loved it. He was an actor on a show you always wanted to watch, but never had a chance to, at least now you had a reason. He lived only a couple blocks from your place when he actually was in tow, which explained why you always saw him on the tube, but he liked the bars you never went to, went to places you’d never thought to go to, “I’m impressed by your choice. Honestly, I didn’t think a girl like you ate like that.”

You look at him cross, hands in the pockets of your jacket, feet mulling along, “Should be I offended by that comment?” you ask, a playful hint in your tone as you turn your body to face his slightly.

He chuckles, “Only if you don’t want me to take you to all the places in London with the best food…” he trails, a sliver off self-doubt in his voice as he glances to you.

Your lips quirk up like they had on the train a few days ago, and you nod slightly, “Who says I like you like that though?” you hope he knows that you're pulling his leg, and when he turns to look at you he knows you’re kidding.

His shoulder rise and fall nonchalantly, “I’m hoping you like me like that. I’d hate to have to go back to looking for you on the tube every day,” it’s only now that you blush, and the sting in your cheeks seems late because they’ve felt the heat of his flattery all night.

You press a hand to the arm of his jacket and give him a non-threatening shove causing a laugh to seep from his lips, and his hand to grab yours in his. You look from your hands together up to him, and slither your fingers together a little more while he guides you beside him. The rest of your night together is spent at the pub that he frequents where after sitting at the bar for a drink, the two of you face off in a game of pool once one of the tables in the back opens up. A few people at the pub come up to him for pictures, raving about how much they love the character he plays and you watch as he takes pictures with them, his response to them genuine as opposed to how you always believed celebrities acted.

When it was just the two of you again you watched him intently, him noticing and looking at himself to see if there was something on him, before asking what was wrong, “Nothing. They love you, it’s just interesting to see the exchange. I’ve never even seen a celebrity before in my life,” you say almost rolling your eyes at the irony.

He leans over with the pool stick in his fingers lining up to take his shot, “Who would’ve known you were on a date with one this whole time,” he flashes you a wink before taking his shot, the cue ball hitting two of his solids into pockets.

You suck your teeth playfully as he makes his way around you, his arm slithering across your back as he makes his way to the other side of the table. Your eyes follow him, “Don’t get cocky,” you warn him, but he knows already, and as he takes his shot he makes in yet another solid but the cue ball follows. His head drops, “The universe has spoken.”

Two more games and the two of you leave, walking slow on the short distance to your place, joking with one another like you didn’t just start speaking a few days ago. He throws an arm around your shoulder easily and where you stumbled with others who’d tried to walk with you this way, the two of you walked seamlessly, your hand encircling his back, “So what don’t you like?” he asks you out of the blue as you walk and its only now that you notice how atuned he is to you. The physical connection to you is obvious by his arm, but its only now that you notice his fingers against your shoulder skimming the material of your jacket.

You realize that you’re both rounding the corner by your flat, and feel your spirits drop that the date is ending this soon, your doorway is only a few steps away, and you think aloud as you get there, and turn to him, “Great first and only dates,” you tell him.

He shrugs, “Scratch the only, I’m asking so that I can figure out where to take you next. And be honest, I want you to really enjoy yourself,” he grows serious for a moment again, a stale smile lingering on his face as he takes you in.

"Uhm, I hate to be annoying but I go with it. I can’t even think of something that I wouldn’t like that would let me get to know you a little better than just a face on a train," you know you’re being cheesy but you hope that you’ve earned the right to be, the attraction between the two of you is undeniable and you mesh better than you could’ve expected.

He nods seeming to approve of it at least, “Good, that I can work with,” he looks up to the door of your building and breathes in, “Well, this is it.”

You nod, “It is.”

And so the two of you stand, grinning stupidly before laughing at your awkwardness and you watch as his shoe takes a step closer before you feel his hand sliding along your face. It’s a moment you weren’t going to lie and say that you haven’t thought of because God, did you. His hands were a little smoother than you expected but they felt so good that the sting in your cheeks was back again accompanied by a twist deep in your stomach. You look to his eyes and find that they’re watching you but shift to your lips as you grow close. Eventually you feel the brush and lean in to get the full feel. His kiss cradles you and its enough to have you bring your hand to his side, enjoying the feeling of his lips massaging yours until they’re kiss-swollen and blushed. His tongue only brushes yours a bit before he pulls away as if he felt he did something too far, and your stomach twisted again.

The two of you separate your lips but your faces don’t move much more, your breaths are uneven but only showed that the two of you were holding them in, “Goodnight,” you say knowing that you should probably head upstairs before you get carried away.

"It was," he says and you shove him lightly away but he pulls you to him one more time to give you one las breat-stealing kiss before nudging you to your door, "Check your phone or I’ll just have to watch you on the tube," he calls as you step into your doorway.

"I’ll be looking forward to both!"

[imaginekitharington]

Can you please do a Bonnie and Clyde esque one please? Kind of like the 1975's video for Robbers thank you for making this blog btw :) xxx

He mashed his cigarette in the tray on the dresser roughly like he’d done everything before leaning over and watching himself intently in the foggy mirror. You watched him. From where you sat against the headboard, your eyes draped all over him from his toes peeking out from the darkwash jeans that you watched him slide on only moments before up over the ridges in his naked back, and up to the mass of raven-colored curls atop his head. Between your lips, you ran your tongue over your nail as opposed to biting it, but you grinned at him although he wasn’t looking at you yet. In the mirror he ran his hand over his beard, assessing the new length of the hairs from a shadow to scruff. In the backdrop of the room, faint music played with light guitars, you weren’t sure what song it was in the slightest. As his arm moved, you watch the muscles in his back conour, and your grin widens. He catches you, watching you until your eyes return to his again, and then the same wicked gleam that danced in your eyes did in his as well.

The early morning lighy seeped through the half-open shades in the room and cast a section of the bed in rising sunlight. Turning to face you, you wait as Kit turns to face you, resting his hands back on the dresser, his abs glaring at you right in the face, “You awake yet?” he only asks because he’d tried to wake you before, placing gentle kisses on your shoulder, whispering lightly in your ear to wake up, his hands skimming your waist and thighs. You’d only groaned and moved his hand, asking for ten more minutes. You stretch out your arms, breathing in briskly, your breasts raising in the black balconet bra covering you, and though the stretch was genuine, you both knew what you were up to.

Your stretch had been your answer, and you took in the gradual grin that slid over his lips as he shook his head at you like you were too much to handle, but sometimes you were. His head lowered a bit before turning back you but you hadn’t wavered. Instead, your legs shifted underneath you and you rose atop the bed, sauntering on the cheap mattress til there was nowhere left to step. Fingers reaching for the dark spiral atop his head saw you pulling him closer to you until his hands lifted to the sides of your stomach, his lips drifting along the taut, bare skin before him. Your head dips back and you smile before he scoops your knees forcing you to drop on the bed and allowing him to climb over you. You wince with a slight laugh, your hand rising to the back of your head, “Oww!” he pouts and apologizes with his lips muffling as he kisses along your neck and jaw.

You lean up on your elbows and look at him before lifting a hand to the side of his face, “Today’s the day,” you tell him, the air growing a little less playful as his face straightens, and he nods in affirmation at you. Your thumb brushes his cheek, and he shifts from where he lays between your legs, “We need this money, babe.”

"I know. Try not to worry about it, we’ll be fine," he tells you and you try not to think about it, it always did help. You nod for him because his eyes are full with worry that this one will finally be your breaking point. But it won’t be, "We always are," he leans over to kiss you gingerly, his lips lingering on yours to brush in an almost-tickle just the way he knows makes you weak, and it does. You wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him atop the bed to show him just how awake you are…

The place you go to for breakfast is top knotch for being in the middle of nowhere, and before the waitress can evenn ask you what you want to drink, you both ask for french toast, bacon, eggs, and orange juice. Over the table, you both speak low as you go over the plan, and get in contact with Rich and John who had gas in the van and all your stuff. Breakfast was wolfed down like you hadn’t eaten in months and before you stand to leave, Kit drops the tip on the table, proudly grabs your hand and the two of you strut out of the diner and over to the van awaiting you.

Once inside the back the two of you gather the handgun and shot gun awaiting you and load them. The navy bandanas are waiting to be tied over your nose and cover the bottom half of your face and you had Kit a hair tie so that the two you can tie your hair back into ponytails. John, who’s driving, lets you know that the large convenience store that you’re going to be taking is coming up. In the back the van, the two of your eyes meet, and as you both lift your bandanas you bring your faces together to press your lips to one anothers. Your lips mash and it’s needy and hasty as if there isn’t enough time left. The hand on the back of your head, presses you deeper to his mouth allowing his tongue to massage your own in more lengthly strokes that evoke a small sound of approval in the back of your throat.

"Alright, we’re here," Richard called from the passenger seat, and the two of you pull away from one another, lowering each other’s bandanas, and sliding open the door of the van. You walked with all the time in the world to the convenience store because there was no one in sight. In a town this small, the surveillance was light with no cameras outside the establishment. You walked in and stalked to the back of the store to check everything out. The two of you split to get a look around the store, a teenage girl working behind the counter wasn’t even paying attention but instead was reading some magazine from the racks behind the counter.

Kit walked up to the register and pointed his gun square in her face, ordering her to empty the register, jars and everything they had including the safe beneath the counter. Scared and maybe with pants soaked, the young girl emptied the register and safe of all the money into black plastic bag, begging them to just leave the store, but now it was your turn. From where you sat on the countertop you swung your legs over to her side, “Three packs of Marlboro Lights, and get me the video tape, now!” you press the gun to the girls forehead and follow her as she walks around behind the counter and gets everything you asked for. Her hands are shaking as she places them in a new bag and hands them to you. You lean down to her face and grin beneath the bandana, “Thanks sweetheart,” your fingers pinch her cheek before you hop back over the counter, and grab the bags from the floor, Kit urges you towards the door and as you step out to walk towards the car you hear it. The loudest bang that can’t be mistaken for anything else than a gun. With no feeling of pain you turned abruptly to Kit as you find him pressing a hand to the side of his abdomen, his hand covered in the sticky red substance as he pulls it away, “Jesus Christ,” you pull him from the store, and fire off three rounds towards the register, and pull him towards the van where the door is slid open already and Richard is waiting, helping you pull Kit into the van and take off to the shackhouse.

Your hand is squeezed hard in the van as his eyes cast down to the wound where your other hand is giving it some pressure. He is laughing from next to your as he drops his head back to rest and when you look at him cross, he shakes is head, “Didn’t think that little girl had it in her, ” he chuckles again.

You return back to the house, pulling Kit in and gathering the med kit and pliers. It wasn’t the first time you guys had to pull a bullet out the other but you were always grateful it wasn’t a slug. You grab a nearby bottle of Jack and pour over the wound hearing him curse out loud, before handing him the bottle. John helps you get him sewn up after you get the bullet from his side, and you take him off to the bedroom where he lays down dragging you with him. Sliding an arm around your shoulders he pulls you against him as tight as he can for it being comfortable, and sighs deeply, “See love, I told you everything would be fine.”

[imaginekitharington]

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