#i hope you wanna know what happened at the dinner with rachel

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | five

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: you and your professor enjoy a day in new york. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, oral [m receiving], a smidge of cock worship, spoilers for antony and cleopatra by shakespeare lol, flirting, these fuckos kinda go on a date, prof joel is man of the arts idgaf, a tlou2 easter egg, oral [f receiving] and then oral [f receiving] again, sex acts in public, jealousy, sexting/nudes, unprotected piv sex, exhibitionism, dirty talk, light choking, overstimulation [f], pain kink, kinda dom!joel, describing men as pretty and beautiful because I LIKE IT, soft!joel. word count: 8.3k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: so this whole thing is almost entirely sucking fucking and flirting, and i hope you enjoy it before we encounter angst. all credit to willy shakes for the passage from A&C that joel reads in the opening scene. thanks king for inspiring the title of this series lol xo this is part five of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four.

Sunday.

The sound of paper rustling wakes you. Muted scrapes of page shifting against page.

Through your lashes you can see a thin reed of sun streaming in the window, flaring across the end of the bed to warm your skin.  And there’s a dull ache between your legs; a rhythmic throb that dances and twists through your core, through the muscles in the inside of your thighs. The type of pain that is warm – soft in its caress, like the trail of a lover’s fingertips down your spine. A sort of remembrance, or celebration. And you welcome it eagerly; delight in the sharp reminder of how it felt to welcome his body inside yours again. The hot sting of every third second, the meticulous pulse and ache of flesh that you hope stays with you for days.

Another page turns.

 You tilt your head to the side, eyes open a mere crack, and smile at the secrecy of it. At the private sincerity of this man who lies awake, sporting nothing but the thin veil of a sheet, gaze fierce and focused on an endless stream of text that raps his attention. It’s a type of heaven for him, you realise. This resting place, as calm and tranquil it is. The only weight that bears down is in the place where his wrist bends, hand coiled around the spine of a book, fingers poised, flicking impatiently against the corner of a page, begging to turn it, to see more.

You take in every ripple of muscle, every dip and curve and freckle and scar. The jut of his elbow. The hard line of his jaw. Watch pink lips part and purr as he whispers the words on the page to himself, and think about how perfect that mouth felt between your thighs.

His fingers pinch the corner of a page, pressing it down into a dog ear before he moves onto the next. You wonder what piqued his interest, what collection of words made him want to mark it, to leave a trail for himself to come back one day and remember.

You break the silence finally. “What are you reading?”

Joel flinches, glasses jolting to the tip of his nose.

“You’re awake.”

“I am,” you hum. When he stares at you for a moment you just smile, snaking a hand out from the sheet to tap the page of his book. “Tell me.” 

“Shakespeare,” he murmurs, a faint blotch of red rising at the base of his neck. You want to kiss that blush—taste it. Want to know if his skin smells like you. “Antony and Cleopatra.”

“I love that one,” you yawn. “Where are you up to?”

 “Act five,” he says. “Cleopatra’s big scene.”

“Will you read it to me?” you smirk.

There’s an upward shift of an eyebrow. The spark of a curious glint in his eye. 

“Really?” he drawls, unimpressed.

“Please?” your smile softens into something kind, something honest.

With a sharp sigh, and a quick adjustment of his glasses, Joel begins to read.

“Give me my robe, put on my crown,” he begins slowly, as if unsure. “I have immortal longings in me: now no more. The juice of Egypt’s grape shall moist his lip: yare, yare, good Iras; quick.”

His voice is a low vibration, a honeyed sound that drifts through the air and has goosebumps raising across your skin. You watch his mouth shape the words, enamoured. Savouring every glimpse of his teeth, every slip of his tongue between them.

“Methinks I hear Antony call; I see him rouse himself to praise my noble act. I hear some mock the luck of Caesar, which the gods give men to excuse their after wrath. Husband, I come. Now to that name my courage prove my title.”

His hair is a mess. A shock of greying curls that have flattened against his scalp after a night of being pressed into his pillow, threatening to spring up again. That dull pain flares in your core again and you rub your thighs together in an attempt to quell the ache. But something stirs there—low, prowling just behind the pain. Something wet and wild that whispers his name. 

“I am fire and air,” Joel continues obliviously, licking his thumb to turn the page with ease. “My other elements I give to baser life. So; have you done?”

Slowly, listening—hanging—you shift against the mattress. Allow the sheet to fall down to your stomach, exposing your breasts to the morning air. Your nipples stiffen, chest tightening as he glances at them from the corner of his eye. He pauses, mouth ajar. Swallows. Brown eyes return to the page, and he continues to read.

“Come then, and take the last warmth from my lips.”

Your hand drifts across the mattress, hidden from sight as it traverses the soft plains of the sheets, the blankets, and then the skin of his thigh. Bare, but smattered with soft hairs that tickle your palm and fingertips. Goosebumps tear across his skin and his breathing hitches; the faintest cracks in his calm façade. You surpass where you can see him hardening, fingers floating up his side to rest against his stomach. Gently, you feel across the soft slopes and curves of his tummy. Glide your finger over the dip of his belly button and smile when he clears his throat, legs shifting in a restless dance. And then your hand shifts down. Past his happy trail, past the dark curls at his base, to wrap your fingers softly around his length.  

“Farewell, kind Charmian,” Joel’s voice deepens. “Iras, long farewell.”

You lower yourself on the bed, dragging the sheets with you until they rest wayward and wrinkled around his knees. Your cheek nuzzles against his thigh as you stroke him, humming in delight as his cock stiffens in your palm.

Joel sighs. “You don’t have to—”

“Keep going,” you hush, glancing up. He watches you over the top of his glasses, gaze darkening. There’s still sleep in the corners of his eyes, and it’s so soft, so domestic, it almost hurts. You look down, simpering as you admire the sight of his cock, now fully hard and leaking in your grasp.

The head is swollen, a flushed shade so reminiscent to that of his lips that you want to kiss him. But his skin is warm and smooth, like silk as you nuzzle his length against your face. Feel his wetness streak across your skin, over the closed line of your lips, the apple of your cheek. “Joel,” you urge him quietly when he still doesn’t speak.

“Have I the aspic in my lips?” His voice is hoarse when he continues; wanton, rough with sleep and desire. “Dost fall?”

You lathe soft kisses against the tip, along the vein that pulses along the side of his shaft, against the tight swell of his balls, taking your time with him. You giggle when he sucks in a sharp inhale, the muscles in his thighs tightening beneath your cheek.

“Such a pretty cock,” you whisper, swiping your fingers over his weeping head.

“Yeah?” he exhales and drops the book against his stomach, fingers reaching to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Gonna show me how much you like it?”

“Mhm,” you bat your eyelashes up at him.

Joel raises the book again, slowly, eyes unfocused and glassy but still watching—still devouring—the way your lips purse around his tip. His stomach tightens when your tongue leaves soft kitten licks against the slit, lapping at the salty precome that rests there.

“If thou and nature,” he murmurs. “Can so gently part.”

And it’s almost painful, the way he sounds. Exhalations of tragic Shakespeare mixed with soft gasps, with curses loosed beneath his breath. The occasional revered whisper of your name, spurring you on.

His free hand settles at the back of your head, thick fingers curling in your hair as your lips part to take him deeper inside your mouth. “Fuck,” he groans, hips shifting against the mattress. “That’s it, baby, god you’re good at that.”

You hum around the weight of him, stomach warming at the praise. Swirl your tongue generously around his girth, lathing saliva over his skin until it’s dripping down to his balls. You cup them gently in your palm, massage him as your lips drag to rest around his tip again, paying close attention to the way he gasps and sighs when the point of your tongue dances along the ridge at the underside of his head.

“Sensitive there?” you ask quietly, eyes flitting up to look at his face. His cheeks are flushed, eyebrows furrowed as he nods.

“S’good,” he confirms, fingers tightening in your hair as you rub that spot again. A fresh bead of precome oozes from his slit and you smile, fingers curling around his length to tap his tip against the flat of your tongue. “Jesus,” he mutters, eyelids fluttering. “Yeah, good girl.”

You shift down on him eagerly, letting the heavy weight of him slip against your tongue, inside the warmth of your mouth, until he’s pressing against the back of your throat and you can hear him moaning.

“Got the prettiest fuckin’ mouth, baby,” Joel whispers. “S’like a fuckin’ dream, seeing those lips on my cock again.”

You whimper and swallow around him. A tear squeezes out of the corner of your eye, trailing a shiny path down to your chin. In steady, measured movements, your head bobs up and down on his length, guided by the gentle press of his hand.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Take it all, baby, yea—yes.”

You relax your throat and take him deep enough to feel your nose brush against the rough hairs at his base.

“The stroke of death is as a lover’s pinch,” he reads, the cadence of his words stilted and breathy. “Which hurts, and is desired.”

Suddenly, his hips jut upward and you gag, throat constricting around him until your eyes are wet and blurry. He tugs gently on your hair, pulling you backward until you part from him with a splutter, messy strings of saliva dangling between your swollen mouth and his cock.

“God damn,” he swipes a finger across your lower lip. “Doin’ so good, sweetheart. So so good."

You think your eyes water more at that. Sweetheart.

“I want it,” you slur, lids heavy as you make eye contact with him.

“What do you want?” he pushes, cupping your jaw in his large palm. “Tell me.”

“Want you to come in my mouth,” your face warms and you lick your lips, fingers stroking him slowly. “Want all of it.” Everything.

“Okay,” Joel soothes, and then his hand drops from your hair so he can grip himself. Gently, he glides the tip along your bottom lip, trailing his salt across the skin of your chin, your cheeks, your nose, before finally pressing the head back against your tongue. “Take it, come on. It’s yours.” 

He presses between your lips, jaw tensing, and his eyes drift back to the book as you begin to move.

“Dost thou lie still?” he reads. “If thus thou vanishes, thou—Christ—thou tell’st the world.”

Your lips are tight around him, mouth sucking and moving in tandem with the strokes of your fingers, wrapped loosely around his base. Carefully, you shift to straddle his shins, forearms resting heavily against his thighs as you bring him to the brink of his orgasm. Yours.

“Fuck,” you hear him spit, and then he’s arching forward, the splay of his palm moving down the length of your spine until his fingers slip into the crevice between your ass cheeks. Gripping and squeezing the flesh there until you’re moaning too, the vibrations of your voice muddling with the wet sounds of your mouth against his cock. 

It doesn’t take much longer for coherent thought to evade him, Antony and Cleopatra flung to the wayside of the bed as his broad hands cradle your head, the tip of his cock nudging the back of your throat with every thrust. Your entire body is hot, slick with sweat, the musky scent of Joel filling your nostrils with every rushed inhale. The sounds he’s making turn rougher, deeper; raspy grunts and exhales that are almost animalistic in their intensity, and then—

“Fuckin—look at me,” he bites out, and watery eyes flutter open to meet his gaze. “Need to see those pretty eyes when I fill you up.”

And fuck you’re wet. So wet that it’s seeping onto the skin of your thighs, drooling out of you as you clench around sweet sweet nothing, cunt desperate and begging to be filled again. Tightening your fingers around his cock, you drag your mouth back to suck gently around the pulsating head, and when he comes it’s with a drawn-out, laboured groan that fades into harsh mutterings of your name and fuck and so fuckin’ good at that god damnit and that’s it, swallow it all baby, it’s yours, it’s yours, it’s yours.

You pull off him with a gasp, sucking in deep desperate breaths as you fall onto your back beside him.

Soft sheets stick to the sweat on your skin, and you close your eyes, vaguely aware of how the two of you breathe in sync; a high-strung cacophony of sharp inhales and heavy exhales.

After a few quiet moments you ask, “What time is it?”

“Eighty thirty,” he answers. The mattress jostles and tilts as his large frame shifts on it.

“Probably time to start the day,” you grumble, throat raw and tired.

But you can feel hands on your waist, nudging you backward until your head is slumped amongst the soft pillows again. And when your eyes peak open Joel is getting comfortable between your legs, glasses forgotten somewhere out of sight, hands pressing your thighs into the mattress to reveal your glistening sex to him.

And he says, “No,” shaking his head slowly, near-black eyes piercing as his lips lower to meet your cunt. “Not yet.”

You were unsure, initially, whose idea it was.

Unsure of who spoke first; if you or him brought up the idea of the museum. Unsure if he mentioned the bookstore or you mentioned The Iliad. Unsure, unsure, unsure.  

But as you stand on the outskirts of Central Park—showered, dressed, sure—eyes scanning the front window of the shop, the glass overflowing with newspaper cuttings and novel covers and author profiles and ads for signings – you are certain that it was him. Certain that he asked what your plans were for the day, head resting on your thigh, lips and beard still glistening with your come. Certain that you mentioned going to the museum, and that those brown eyes lit up, mouth splitting into a smile as he revealed that he had plans close by. Certain that he introduced the idea of going together.

A bell tinkles and your gaze sharpens, watching as his broad frame slips out the door with a brown paper bag tucked under his armpit. Joel ticks his head wordlessly to the side and you fall into step next to him, two sets of shoes scuffing against the pavement in a perfect rhythm. 

“Can I see it?” you ask, eyes roaming curiously around the street.

“Sure,” Joel holds the bag out and you take it carefully, fingers peeling back paper so you can take a peak inside.

“The cover is beautiful,” you breathe, fingers tracing vibrant swaths of gold and red, the white lettering that spells The Iliad. You balance the spine in your palm, curious to flick through to the first page. To see the acknowledgements, her author photo, anything. And as your eyes skirt over the very first page your feet stutter to a stop, pulse increasing as you spot the black marker on the page. A messily scrawled signature.

“Joel.”

Joel says your name, pausing a few steps ahead before turning back to face you. “What’s wrong?” he frowns.

You hold up the page, brows lifted in awe. “She… how did you get a signed copy?”

“We’ve met a few times in passing,” he admits sheepishly, eyes glancing between the book and your face. “I’ve always admired her work, and she offered to set a copy aside for me here. She’s very impressive, the first woman to—”

“The first woman to publish an English translation of The Odyssey,” you interrupt. “Yeah, Joel, I know exactly who Emily Wilson is.”

“And now she’s published The Iliad,” he hums. You begin walking again, the museum in sight now. “I’m lookin’ forward to readin’ it. Especially now that I’ve heard all your thoughts about how women and men translate differently. I’m sure it’ll be on my mind as I go.”

The skin on your face prickles and tightens under his attention. You’re still smiling, a wide and satisfised flash of your teeth, when the two of you reach The Met. Still smiling when he pays for your tickets and leads you toward the Cloisters.

You wander together through the exhibit. Medieval, Bohemian, Byzantine. Jean Pucelle, Robert Campin, Tilman. You catch Joel staring at the Bust of the Virgin, one hand on his hip, knee jutted out as he admires her elegance, the tenderness with which her face was carved.

“You like her?” you tease.

His shoulders stiffen and then relax into a sort of indignant laugh.

“I like terracotta,” he smarts, reaching out to pinch your forearm. When he pulls his hand away you see his eyes dart over your shoulder – a quick glance around the room to see if anyone noticed.

“Oh of course,” you nod, a mock serious expression on your face. “Me too. Terracotta virgins.”

“You know,” he huffs, turning to face you head on. “You oughta start showin’ me a bit of respect. Where’s your reverence for an authority figure, huh?”

“Authority?” your eyes widen, smirking broadly as you take a step forward, the material of your jacket brushing against his. “And what authority might that be?”

“I could fail you,” he murmurs, glancing down at your lips. “Tell everyone you’re the worst student I ever had. Never does as she’s told, always talkin’ back.”

“Oh, Professor,” you whisper back, fingers curling around the hem of his shirt, your snark emboldened by his. “I hate to say it, but you’re not very convincing in your distaste.”

You don’t wait around to see his reaction, turning on your heel and heading into the next room. Your cheeks are sore from smiling at the end of it, eyes tired from reading, and then you reach the courtyard gardens. See the cloisters. See the Romanesque columns with their fluting grooves that lead into arches, see the vast green garden with its flowers of yellow and pink and purple. Herbs and flora border the walking paths, filling the air with the scent of thyme and rosemary, and you can’t help but grin.

“Not bad right?” Joel’s voice comes from behind you.

“Not bad at all,” you turn to smile at him. “Would’ve been cooler if they had some dinosaur bones around here though. A museum should always have a dinosaur.”

“A dinosaur,” he repeats, quietly amused. “Of course, you like dinosaurs.”

“I thought, uh,” Joel clears his throat then. Glances away for a second. “Thought you might like it here; that it might remind you of your time in Greece.”

The words make your chest go all warm and tight. He looks so handsome, so easy in the middle of it all. Dark features and broad shoulders softened by the smell of flowers.

“It does,” you nod. “A little bit.”

“What was it like?” he asks.

“Greece was…” you trail off as you remember it. White sand beaches, turquoise waters, boreks and Doric columns, seemingly endless nights spent translating sheets and sheets and sheets of ancient texts. “It was wonderful, really. I feel so lucky to have had the opportunity, and Professor Samaras was a phenomenal instructor.”

Joel nods, fingers looped and resting across his stomach as he digests your answer.

“Good,” is the response he settles on, finally. “I’m glad. You… you deserve that. You work hard, and your presentation was solid.”

And it’s been less than twenty-four hours, but those words bring you calm now, not frustration like they did last night. So you smile, and thank him, and don’t stop yourself from asking him something in return.

“Have you really never been?” you ask, eyes squinting inquisitively as you watch his face, searching the emotions that flitter across it – near impossible to decipher, as always. “You said you weren’t interested, that first night when we spoke about it… but I would’ve thought… I don’t know, maybe a semester abroad or… or a fellowship?”

“Never,” he looks away. “Always too little time, too little money, too many responsibilities.”

You nod slowly, watch him curiously. You wish you could peel back his skin and see inside of that gorgeous brain, that heart. Understand every trouble, every missed opportunity that weighs on his shoulders.

“There’s still time,” you offer. “You’ve got so much time, Joel.”

Joel looks at you and you can see in his eyes that he’s grateful for the words. See that the earnestness with which you speak brings him some kind of solace, some kind of hope.

His fingers graze the skin of your wrist, curling around it to hold you in place beside him. Your body stills, eyes training carefully on the garden; the green of the grass, the pink of the flowers that bloom amongst it all. One of his fingers searches the skin at the inside of your wrist, swiping and rubbing over the tendons and veins there until he finds where your lifeline pulses. And then he strokes that spot, a calm, meticulous glide of his fingertip, over where blood thrums and rushes inside your body.

The tickling sensation has a painful knot of want curling in your chest, but you don’t stop him. Don’t pull your hand away, don’t take a step back. And with every stroke against skin, you feel it as if it where between your thighs—the soft curling of a finger between your folds, against your clit. It feels feverish, like a steady flame that spreads across your skin, up your chest to lick at the inside of your ribcage.  

“Soft,” he says, his voice low and thoughtful. “You’re so soft.” And it sounds painfully like, you’ve got so much time.

And you look at him and he knows. Your face says it all.

Says, let your hands wander wherever they like. Says, if you touched me here—now—I wouldn’t say a word, wouldn’t tell a soul. Says, everything I have to offer is yours if you could only bring yourself to take it. Says, and if your hand won’t wander, won’t stray, I’ll take it in my own and show you where to touch.

So you lead him back inside. Quiet, discreet, slipping past patrons and staff and guards until you find a bathroom. Tuck him inside and smile at the snap of the lock shifting into place behind you.

Joel’s knees meet tile with a soft thud, and dark eyes hold yours as he peels your trousers down, as he drags the slick fabric of your underwear to the side, as he presses the soft cut of his mouth between your legs. He watches you, steadfast, cheeks ablaze and pupils blown as his tongue works you open, calloused fingers holding your left thigh over his shoulder. 

And after you’ve come, face pinched and hidden behind your palm, he pulls away. Skirts wet kisses down the inside of your thigh, against the shell of your kneecap, to the bruise that colours your shin.

And he whispers, “Does it hurt?” with his fingers tracing tender splotches of purple and blue.

And you whisper, “No.” with your fingers brushing the curls off his forehead.

Afterwards you walk through the park, pressing through streams of tourists and locals alike; a lively crowd that parts and flurries around the two of you as you push forward. He fields your questions about Emily Wilson, about the years he spent doing his PhD, parrying seamlessly with queries about the West coast, about your undergrad, your roommates.

The bubble doesn’t break until Joel gets the text. Cursing softly, he turns away from you, eyes focused on his screen.

“Everything okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, yes,” Joel says, fingers flying across the touch screen, typing out a response before he tucks his phone away. “I, uh, look I actually forgot that I have somethin’ I need to do tonight.”

“Sounds mysterious,” you smile, eyebrows raised expectantly. But your smile wavers when he doesn’t match your teasing, face relaxing as you wait.

“Rachel and I planned this dinner a few weeks ago,” he explains. “When we both agreed to attend the conference.”

“Oh,” you blink. “That’s nice.”

“It’s this thing we do,” Joel offers, shifting on his feet. “A tradition, I suppose. To celebrate another conference done.” And you remember, I’ve been to twenty of the damn things. His twenty to your one.

“That’s nice,” you repeat, and hold your smile when he checks his phone again.   

Hold it when he tells you he should go, that he needs to get ready to meet her. Hold it when he hesitates, staring at you for a moment. Hold it when he presses a chaste kiss to the side of your head, lips meeting your temple, the weakest point of your skull, before turning to walk away from you.

Only when you’re alone do you let the smile fall.

After a lonely dinner, you find yourself back in your hotel room, thinking about Rachel.

Folding your blue dress into a neat square, and then a smaller square. Tucking it into your duffel bag, thinking about the rough sound of her laugh. The soft curve of her jaw, the sparkling greys that curl through her dark hair. You fold your underwear, pack that too, and think of her fluorescent toenails and her dangling earrings. Think of how sure she is; how intelligent, how charismatic. And then you think of yesterday – of her hand on Joel’s arm, soft fingers curling around the sleeve of his blazer, carting him around the conference. Leading him. Standing by his side, making him laugh.

And it burns, this hot feeling in your chest. Something dark green and scalding, fiery enough that you feel the need to sit on the edge of the bed and press your palm against the skin above your breast to tamp it down. Feel your heartbeat there, the rise and fall of your chest with each breath, and tell yourself that this feeling is cruel and unforgiving but that it is wrong. You lay out your clothes for the airport, wrap yourself up in the coarse hotel robe and push away the images your mind creates of them at dinner together. Push away the thought of her foot nudging his beneath the table, the thought of them sitting beside each other, thighs brushing like yours had on the bench last night. Because it’s wrong. Joel isn’t like that. Joel wouldn’t do that.

When Nora calls, you pick up on the second ring.

“How did it go?” she squeals, and you feel your shoulders relax at the sound of her voice.

“It was good,” you respond. “I feel good about it. Glad it’s over though.”

“You never answered my text—" the line crackles a little, muffling the last word of her sentence. “I was worried something bad might’ve happened.”

“Fuck,” you apologise. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that, I—I got caught up with something, I… I wasn’t looking at my phone.”

There’s a beat of silence over the phone. Another fried, crackle over the line.

“Oh you cheeky bitch,” she gasps then. “You could’ve just said you were getting some!”

“Nora—” you try, stomach dropping.

“Who the fuck was it?” she continues eagerly. You can almost picture the way her eyes would widen if she were here with you, hands clenched excitedly at her sides as she pushes for all the gory details. “Was it someone from the conference? Oh my god, was it someone from UNE?”

“No, no,” you rush, feeling an anxious heat rise in your chest. “It was just a random guy, we… I met him at a bar afterwards, it’s no one from Maine. No one from the conference.”

Another pause.

“And?” she asks finally. “How was it?”

You consider her question for a moment. Remember the way he undressed you in the dim light of his hotel room – slow, cautious. Remember the way he looked at you. Those dark brown eyes feasting over every inch of flesh, every mark, every freckle, every scar. The feeling of his hands on your breasts, his bare chest against yours as he pressed inside of you.

Quietly, earnestly, you say, “It was amazing,” and smile when she hollers down the line.

And this feeling is so much kinder, you think. The relief and the warmth that comes with being able to tell someone. To talk about him, even if you’re not really talking about him. Even if she can’t really know the truth.

You put her on speaker, still listening and laughing as she rattles off question after question. Did he go down on you? How big was he? Wait he was older?! You bitch! How old?! That’s hot. Fuck, I need to get laid.

“You really do,” you chuckle, laying down against the pillows and typing out a text to Joel.

Are you enjoying your dinner?

He replies within minutes.

Yeah, the restaurant is nice.

What are you doing?

“Hey Nora?” you interrupt. “I actually need to go.”

“Oh,” she huffs. “Alright, alright, I get it. You’re gonna go get fucked again. Good for you bitch.”

“I love you,” you laugh, already typing out a response to him. “See you tomorrow when I get home.”

Well my bags are packed, and I just tucked myself into bed

You watch the text bubble appear, disappear, and reappear over three times before it vanishes completely. Minutes go by; maybe ten, maybe fifteen, and then—

Show me.

Grinning, you loosen the tie around your robe to reveal a flash of the skin across your chest; the curve of your left breast, the peak of your nipple. Take a picture and make sure he can see your finger snagged between your lips, resting against the softness of your tongue.

For a moment you worry. Feel a spike of fear in your chest that if you send it someone else might catch a glimpse of his screen – that Rachel might see it. But then another text comes through, and you feel that fear melt into a warm pool of liquid.

I know you want to show me, sweetheart.

So you do. You click send and wait, teeth catching against the nail on your thumb.

The response is almost instant.

Jesus.

Are you wet?

You know I am

Are you touching yourself?

No

Good.

Dinner finished early. Where are you?

You send him the address of your hotel. Call the lobby and tell them to let him up. And when he arrives, you’re waiting for him on the balcony. You hear the heavy pad of his footsteps crossing the room, and then the slide of the glass door. Feel the broad span of his chest press against your back; outstretched fingers that glide around the curve of your waist to settle over your stomach.

Joel doesn’t say a word, nosing at the frizzled kinks of hair at the base of your neck. One of his hands drifts upward, fingers curling beneath the neckline of your robe, just grazing the curve of your breast. You let your eyes fall closed and think this feels like coming home.  Think, if this moment could last for hours, for days, for ever, that would be enough, and I’d never ask for another thing. Think, where have I been all of my life, and why was it not here with him?

You say, “Let’s go inside,” as he touches your nipple, and feel him shake his head.

“No,” he says. Presses his hips against your ass, rough denim brushing the backs of your knees. “Want you here.” 

You start to say Someone might see, but Joel pushes you forward again and your stomach presses against railing. Your eyes dart down toward the street, the road. To cars and pedestrians and tourists. 

“You don’t want that?” his lips brush the side of your neck as he speaks, the softest pressure. He tugs at your robe, guiding it down past your shoulders, elbows, until it pools around your feet. “Don’t want them to see us together?”

“That’s not—” you gasp as his teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder, hot tongue gliding over already bruising flesh. “Fuck, Joel.”

He groans against your skin, lathing wet kisses past your neck to the top of your spine. His hands are on your waist and your stomach and your tits and his jeans chafe against your bare ass, zipper catching every now and then. But your mind is hazy, a blur of thoughts that can only focus on the feeling of teeth and lips, on something long and firm pressing through the material of his pants, rutting slowly against you. 

“You’re hard already,” you breathe, surprised—delighted.

Joel grunts, distracted. “Been hard since you sent me that picture.”

A shaky breathes leave your lips as his hand skirts down your stomach, your hipbones, until his fingers slip past the glistening seam of your cunt – tender and swollen and aching. 

“But that’s what you wanted, hmm?” he rasps. You whimper as his fingers circle over your entrance, collecting your slick and dragging it upward. A flinch rips through you when he touches your clit, the nerves fraught after being given so much attention throughout the day. “You like knowin’ how much I want you? How badly? You like that I’d leave dinner early just to come here and fuck you?”

Face on fire, you nod; caught out. And then he takes another step forward, bending you further over the railing and pressing himself against you, hard enough that you can feel his cock between your ass cheeks, denim scraping the sensitive skin there.

“That is how much I want you. All the fuckin’ time,” he says. “Get it?” 

“Joel,” you stutter urgently, voice almost a squeak. Your thighs shake, knees close to buckling as his finger rubs slow circles against your clit. “S’too—fuck, Joel, it’s too sensitive.” It burns, too much – but his touch only serves to stoke the fire in your belly until it’s a roaring, raging thing, begging for more of too much. 

“I know, honey,” he groans, and you think you can hear the sound of his zipper coming undone. “You sore?”

When you don’t answer immediately Joel’s fingers still, body straightening as if he’s about to stop, about to pull away.

“Don’t,” you say quickly. “Just—”

“M’not goin’ anywhere,” Joel hushes. “Does it hurt?”

You hesitate, stomach tightening when his fingers start to move again. “It’s… yeah a little, but it’s…”

“But you like it? Like it when it hurts a little?” he fills the silence, and you can hear the change in his voice. Hear how it deepens, a gravelly effect that has your cunt tightening. You cringe, turn your head to the side in the hopes that he won’t see your reaction. But he doesn’t let it slide. Of course not. “Talk to me.”  

“Yeah, yes, I like it,” you admit, exhaling a relieved sigh when you hear his belt hit the ground.

“Good,” he says, and then you can feel him, hot silken skin on your own, the wet glide of his cock against your ass check.

His knuckles brush against you as he adjusts himself, and the weight of his tip at your opening is not unlike the brush of his fingers along your bruised shin. Tender, careful – the touch of someone that would never hurt you. Not unless you asked him to.

When Joel rocks his hips forward, cock splitting you open around his weight, the stretch is long and deep. A sweet, searing burn that has you balancing on the tips of your toes, mouth hanging open as you grip the railing and take it. The night air is cool against your skin, but warm hands land firm on your hips, thumbs circling and rubbing away the goosebumps there

“God,” he grunts into the hinge of your jaw, teeth nipping at the muscle there. “You’re so wet, so needy. Want this cock all the time, don’t you?”   

You can only moan in response – a choked, whimper of a noise that scratches its way out of your throat as he bottoms out. His thighs are warm and thick against yours, body practically moulding itself to you as you squirm, cunt pulsing around the thick length of him.

He gives you a moment to adjust, waits to feel you relax against him, and then he’s moving. Slow, powerful thrusts that have you feeling him in your stomach, and wishing you could see his face. Wishing you could watch his nose scrunch up, his lips curl into a snarl as he fucks you. Wishing that everything you’re feeling could be reflected back to you in his face, the way it was last night.

“Thought about you all night,” he says in your ear, a dirty little confession, whispered only for you to hear. “You know how sick that is? At dinner with my colleague, my friend, and I couldn’t get this perfect cunt out of my head. S’drivin’—me—fuckin’—crazy.”

And it’s sick, it’s awful, but you feel your lips peel back, face breaking into a toothy grin at the words. That envy, that jealousy, that dark green sticky feeling - all of it for naught because you were right. Joel Miller is yours.

“Yeah?” you pant, pushing your ass back into him and smiling even wider when he grunts, blunt fingernails digging into your waist. “What were you thinking about?” 

“’Bout how tight you always are,” he kisses the side of your neck, tongue flicking incessantly against the skin there. “How perfect you felt around me last night. How you take it so well.” He bites down, sucking until the skin throbs, another mark left in his wake. “How, if I can help it, I’ll never wear a condom when I fuck you again.”  

You curse, head lolling back against his shoulder. The confession makes you ache. “Please,” you mutter desperately. “Joel, please.”

“Thought about fillin’ you up,” he continues eagerly. “Fuckin’ you so hard, so deep with my come that you’d feel it for days. And you’d be mine.” His hips snap forward in a particularly harsh thrust and you grunt, cringing as the railing bites into your ribs. Mine mine mine.

“I’m yours,” you moan as he fucks you, a steady smack-smack-smack sound filling the air as his hips collide with the meat of your ass, over, and over, and over again. “You know I am.”

And you want to know what he thinks of that, want to know what comes next, but the sound of laughter echoes up from the street suddenly, and you tense, eyes snapping wide open. Joel doesn’t slow down.

“Look at them,” he hushes, voice quietening some.

His hand raises to point somewhere over the balcony, but you don’t see where; eyes trained on his fingers, his skin, the blue veins that swell and pulse beneath it. Your eyes try to follow it, but you’re looking the wrong way, following the hard line of his wrist, the corded veins in his forearm, his bicep, trying desperately, shamelessly, to catch a glimpse of his face.

“I said look at them,” his voice deepens, an authoritative tone taking over as his long fingers grip your jaw, angling it down until you do as he says.

You can see three of them. Squinting, you try to make out their faces from four storeys up. Stumbling down the street, laughing loudly, bumping shoulders as they walk.

Joel’s hips press forward and you gasp, eyes rolling back as his swollen tip nudges the deepest, softest place inside of you.

“Wait,” you whisper hoarsely, body jerking forward with every practised thrust of his cock. Say again, “Someone might see.”

“I hope they do,” he growls, hand falling to drape over your neck.

His fingers press gently against either side, cradling your pulse point in the palm of his hand. Your brain goes foggy with the pressure, mind buzzing and blurring. The sensation of his broad grip against your throat mixes with the drag of his cock between your thighs and it’s intoxicating; a high that you’ve never experienced before, and never want to end. You don’t realise how loud you’re gasping, moaning, keening his name, until you hear him laugh. A rough, elated sound.

“I knew it,” he chuckles, and you tighten around him, fingers fumbling backward, seeking purchase at the soft flesh of his hips as he continues rocking into you. His hand drops from your neck to your tits, and he squeezes.

“Admit it. Admit you fuckin’ love it,” Joel pants, every word punctuated by a white-hot press of his cock and a heavy exhalation against your neck. “Dirty little thing—you want them to see. Say it.” 

“Fuck,” you cry, spine arching as you push backward, meeting the movements of his hips.

“Fuckin’ say it,” he snaps, all hints of laughter gone now, his rough drawl only offset by the fond way his hands play with your tits. Careful, kind; every pinch, every squeeze, every caress a generous and tender display.

“I want it,” you blubber, sight blurring into a mess of streetlights and skyscrapers and strangers on the street. “W-want them to see how you fuck me, how you take care of me.”

“That’s it,” he groans, and you can feel the way he twitches inside of you, cock jerking against your walls in hot fast movements.

“Want them to know,” you continue, and there’s tears streaking messily down your cheeks, your lips moving faster than you can control. “Want them to see us, see how good it is, how perfect.”

And it’s too much now, you think. Finally, too much of too much. The railing is bruising against your stomach. Every stroke of his cock, every graze of your nipples – Joel’s touch akin to the end of a frayed wire, sparking and spitting embers wherever the two of you come into contact. Your cunt is on fire, every inch of sticky wet flesh throbbing and smarting.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby, you gonna show them how you come for me? Gonna let them hear it?”

“I can’t,” you choke out, shaking your head numbly. Yours lungs are on fire, mouth dry as you try fruitlessly to suck in breath after breath. “Fuck, I don’t think I can—”

“Hey,” his voice calls. A rough finger wipes across your cheek, smearing the salty tears further across your skin. “You can, you can, I can’t—I fuckin’ need this, need it.”  

“It’s too much,” you gasp frantically. But your words aren’t matched by the desperate grind of your hips. Aren’t matched by the way you twitch and shake between him and the glass, abdomen tensing tighter tighter tighter with every thrust. “Fuck, I’m—I’m close but it’s too much, Joel, it’s too much, I can’t, I can’t—”

He pulls out quickly. You gasp wetly at the loss, at how your walls clench and suck around that empty warm space in his absence. Deft hands grip your waist, tilting and turning you until your back is against the railing now, and his mouth is between your legs, wet lips and tongue so soft in comparison, so soothing against that burn.

There’s no shying away now, no stuttering or whining – you simply melt, thigh softening around the curve of his shoulder, allowing him to hold you up as his tongue teases and coaxes you to the edge of your third mind-numbing, toe-curling orgasm that day.

And you don’t notice at first how his bicep shifts and flexes beneath your thigh. Don’t notice how he groans and sighs against your messy cunt, panting and muttering your name as he strokes his cock in tight, wet jerks. And when you come, gushing into his mouth, his eyes snap open, endless spheres of deep brown gazing up at you, desperate to see. Your legs tremble with the force of it, hands grappling for purchase on his shoulders, in his hair. And with your lips parted, tears drying on your cheeks, you watch the way his face crumples—wrecked. How eyebrows furrow and eyelids flutter shut. Joel’s mouth slips away from you, teeth sinking into the flesh of your thigh, something to ground him as he grunts, a low, ragged sound, before you feel him come in warm, thick spurts against your calf.

“Fuck,” you mumble deliriously. Can hardly hear yourself over the roar of your pulse in your ears. “So good, you’re so beautiful.”

Joel’s face is flushed, skin tinged with a deep red that settles across the highest peaks of his cheekbones and disappears into his beard. And when his eyes open again, drowsiness swimming beneath those heavy lids, you can see the way they shine. Glistening with something wet, something earnest. You thumb gently at his waterline, swiping away the tears like he’s done for you. 

His lips press a chaste kiss to the pad of your thumb, tongue snaking out to lick his tear from your skin, and you think you must repeat it, So beautiful, because he smiles. Breathing heavily, eyes wet, he grins for you. A flash of white that he quickly smothers against the skin of your leg.

After catching his breath, Joel leads you inside and helps you shower. Stands outside the glass door, hand gripping your elbow to brace your shaking frame as you glide soap over your arms, down your legs. His fingers dig in firmer when you slip a hand between your thighs, whimpering as warm water streams over the sensitive skin there. He doesn’t flinch or shy away when specks of water flick out and dampen his shirt.

“You okay?” he asks as he helps you out, wrapping a towel around your shoulders.

You nod, mind still foggy, and let him rub the coarse fabric over the skin of your arms, your legs, drying you off before he tucks you back into your robe. And when he leads you back into the room, helping you carefully onto the bed, a flash of concern splits across his face. He takes a step back, a step away, until his back is brushing against the wall.

You lay down on the bed, heavy limbs splayed haphazardly across the soft blankets and pillows. Your robe is open, the tie still forgotten somewhere on the balcony, revealing the skin of your stomach, your thighs, still dotted with warm droplets of water.

And Joel's not far, not really; tucked away in the corner of the room, unsure, arms hanging listlessly by his sides as he stares. Takes in every inch of you as if it’s the first time all over again. Perhaps, as if he’s worried it will be the last.

“I should go,” he says, painfully unconvincing.

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, eyelids heavy as you stare back at him.

Your lips part in a soft yawn as you scratch languidly at the skin over your ribs, and dark eyes follow the movement of your fingers. Watch how your skin smarts and pulls beneath your fingernails until you sigh in contentment, the itch disappearing.

“You gotta be up early,” he says.

“I do.”

“And it’s late,” his eyebrows raise.

“Is it?” you smile. Raise your eyebrows in return and laugh when he sighs, hands twitching at his sides.

“Are we really doing this again?” you ask, smile slipping when you notice his frown. The twisted furrow of his brows, the curl of his upper lip. As if all of the features on his face have pinched together in the middle. Something churns in your stomach; a sick feeling that rises to lodge at the base of your throat. Waiting. “Talk to me.”

“M’tryin’,” he admits quietly. “Tryin’… tryin’ to be good. I want to be good.”

Your heart drops. And then, driven by some emotion that you can’t name, don’t want to name, it climbs its way back up, lurching forward in your chest. It claws and scrapes and tears itself out through a crack between two of your ribs, flinging itself across the room at him.

“You are good,” you whisper. Feel your bottom lip wobble, unsteady but sure. Certain of nothing but this as the words slip out. “You’re good, Joel. We are good.”

And when he smiles you think you can see it in his teeth. Little fragments of your heart; the beating core of you, dark red and macerated in the cracks of his canines, the lining of his gums.  

Joel closes his eyes and repeats the word. A softly murmured, Good, as if the word itself confounds him, and you think you must be imagining the red smeared across his chin. Your blood seeping out past his lips, dribbling down to stain the skin of his neck.

“I hope you’re right.” He takes a deep, steadying breath. One that shakes the planes of his broad chest, makes it rise to its fullest potential before he sucks another in, shoulders relaxing, and walks across the room towards the bed.

Towards you.

thank you for reading! x

[snowdrop-ivy]

Favor. | Part 4

Summary: Ari Levinson was an ego embodied in a man. Yep, he's an asshole. Y/N knows it yet she still married him. How? She doesn't know. And now, she doesn't know how to get him to sign the divorce papers.

A/N: Hey! Short update while getting back into writing zone. Hope you enjoy

That’s what he did. He made her coffee, breakfast, lunch, dinner, put out your clothes, did your laundry but nothing. He didn’t hear a word from her except for her mumbled thanks. He understood though, he knew what he said and meant it. He’ll give her space as much as she wants. Probably a lot of space since they’re going to have another extraction tonight. Ari and Sammy are checking the tires before they go. Sammy knew what was going on, he doesn’t know the exact details but he knew something was up since Ari isn't his usual self.

“Hey,” Sammy called. 

Ari looked up to him, not answering but enough to acknowledge his call. “You okay?” He then asked.

His friend sighed deeply before shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

They looked at each other briefly before bursting into laughter. “Now?”

Sammy pursed his lips. “Maybe after this.”

“Only with a beer,” Ari nodded. Sammy agreed before they proceeded on their mission. Same routine, same track, different people. That’s their goal. It was a successful extraction. 1025 people got on the boat. “Mr. Levinson?” A guy pushing the boat called him, “This came for you.”

He accepted an envelope addressed to him but doesn’t have a return address. He had a hint of what it is. It’s probably the divorce papers Y/N’s lawyer sent to him for the 11th time. They got back to the resort. The guests are sleeping. Rachel and Y/N shared a room for the night. Sammy got them a beer for all the guys and they sat down on the veranda. 

“You invited them?” Ari asked Sammy as he saw Max and Jake sitting down, sharing a cigarette.

“Thanks for that,” Max sarcastically smiled at him.

Ari rolled his eyes before sitting down.

“Okay, talk,” Sammy said before lighting a cigarette.

Ari huffed out. “Well, something happened between us. I talked to Rachel and she told me to make up everything. Which I did. I made her everything, gave her the space she needed. And then, I got this today,” He placed the papers he received earlier.

“You think she planned this?” Jake asked.

“Yeah,” He answered. “I mean, she planned that before but with everything that happened now I don’t know what she wants.”

“Did you try asking her?” Sammy asked him.

He looked at their room. “No.”

“Are you planning to?” Max asked this time.

“I don’t think so.”

“I think you should,” Jake butted in. “She’s very confused. Rachel’s making her more confused. She talked to her about being selfish or something.”

“What?” They all asked.

Jake looked at them and raised his brow. “Yeah, she said how Y/N’s always been selfless and maybe now is the time to choose herself.”

“I didn’t tell her that.”

They jumped on their seats when they heard Rachel.

“What the hell?” Ari said, panting.

“You scared the shit out of me.” Jake chuckled before sitting down again.

“So what did you say to her?” Sammy asked Rachel as she sat down and stole his beer.

“Why don’t you go ask her?” She nodded her head to Y/N walking back to their room. Y/N turned her head and saw them altogether. She doesn’t want to be with anyone so she just waved at them. “She said it’s too cold in my room so she’ll go back.”

They all looked at him. Ari huffed out before walking to their room. He opened the door and she saw Y/N sitting on her side, her back faced her. 

“Hey,” He called her, sitting on his side, facing her.

Y/N turned. “Hi,” she smiled.

He smiled back. They both sat there looking at each other awkwardly. It was like the time Ari admitted he loves her two weeks after they started dating. “So…”

“Everything okay?” She asked.

Ari chuckled, not knowing what to respond. He has all the thoughts in his head but doesn’t have the words to say it. Y/N saw the hesitation on his eyes.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” She asked.

Ari sighed, nodding. “Do you regret it?” His brows creased and lips pursed.

She took her time to answer because she doesn’t want to hurt or confuse him. She hung her head and sighed. “Not one bit.”

And that’s the truth. She didn’t. It was awkward waking up to it but other than that, not one ounce of regret in her body, mind, and heart.

Ari sighed with relief when he heard it. He chuckled lightly before rubbing his face. “Me too.”

“Do you still wanna try? On us?” He questioned, hoping to hear the answer that he wanted to hear. But he scratched that. In his mind, he’ll accept what answer she gives because she deserves it. This time, she’ll be on the top of his list. Her name is capitalized and bold.

“It wouldn’t hurt,” She answered, a smile slowly creeping up. Ari cupped her cheeks before kissing her forehead and pulling her into a hug. He soaked up her scent; so sweet and smells like beer. He just felt calm now. Like nothing can take away the happiness he is feeling. 

Y/N smiled and hugged him back. She loves him still but this time, she’ll put herself first. It wouldn’t hurt to give their marriage a try. She’s better, wiser, and braver. How brave can she get giving her marriage a second chance while on a mission that can get them killed anytime.

[youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms]

Don't Come Home For Christmas (Tim Drake)

Based off these lyrics from the Fall Out Boy song Yule Shoot Your Eye Out

Don’t come home for Christmas You’re the last thing I wanna see Underneath the tree Merry Christmas, I could care less

This was originally supposed to be for Bruce, but when I was almost done I decided to change it to Tim

And as for why is Damian with Tim and Y/N and not Bruce? Good question, I was just too lazy to take it out and I changed up some words

Characters probably Out Of Character, usually are in my fics cause I’m not good at keeping them In Character

Anyways, I hope you enjoy

ALSO FROM THE ACCOUNT YOUREOBSESSEDWITHDC WHICH WAS ME

DC Masterlist Main Masterlist Join My Taglist

Love Z <3

Y/N looked at her phone and sighed. Tim was calling, again. She was pretty sure she knew exactlywhy he was calling. It was three days before Christmas and he was off in London office because something happened. She slid her  thumb over and answered. Continuing to do what she previously was.

“What’s up?”

“Hey, I won’t be able to make it home for Christmas.”

“Oh?”

She heard him sigh over the phone, “Yeah, I’ll be in the Paris Office.”

She stopped what she doing and nearly dropped what was in her hand. “What do you mean?”

“Um, there’s some things that need to be done there and since I’m here I offered to help out.”

She rolled her eyes. Of course. He just couldn’t fucking say no, could he?. “Okay. That’s fine. So when should you be back?”

“Around New Years.”

“Okay. Well, I gotta go. Somebody else is calling me.”

“But Y/N–”

“Bye Tim.”

She ended the call and let out a frustrated scream. Of course he had fucking work shit to do instead of being home. She had barely seen him in the past few months because he was always off doing something. And he always told her after he promised to be home. At this point, she had no idea what to do. She was tired of him never being home and leaving her to do everything. 

She ended up walking down the hall and to Damian’s room. She knocked on the 14 year old’s door, waiting for him to open it. When he did, he didn’t even give her time to tell him, he already knew. “Tim won’t be home, will he?” 

She shook her head and she knew that he was trying to hide the fact that he was hurt. In the past 3 years she’s known him, she’s noticed the small things he does. Many that are similar to Tim, even though they weren’t even related by blood. But she knew that over the past 4 years of being with his brother, Damian had gotten close with him. But he unfortunately had gotten used to the lies about when he would be home.

“He said that he would be home bye New Years.”

“And you believe him?”

She scoffed, “Really kid? You’ve known me 3 years, you really think I’d believe him?”

He shrugged, “You would 3 years ago.”

She shrugged back, “I as more naïve when it came to Tim and everything he does.”

“Well, who is going to be here for Christmas?”

“Selina, Bruce, Dick, Jason, Stephanie, Duke, Barbara, and Cass haven’t backed out. Kate said she wasn’t sure still. I believe Dick is gonna bring the Titans–”

“Yeah, Rachel said she’d be here.”

She smirked, “Oh? You talk to her?”

“I–not like that! We’re just friends.”

She smiled, “Alright kid.” She ran a hand through her hair, “I know Jason said he’d see if Artemis could come. Other than that, I think that’s it.“

“Okay. Well, is that all?”

“Sure grouch.”

“I’m not a grouch.”

“Sure you aren’t.” She sighed, “See you at Dinner.”

She heard him say something as she walked away, but didn’t fully register it. 

——–

Y/N nearly fell down the stairs when she heard the doorbell ring. After she caught herself, she ran down the rest of the steps to the door. Honestly, she was surprised that their dog didn’t start barking at it. Well, until she remembered that he was out in London, or maybe now France, with Tim. She opened the door and smiled as she saw Stephanie. 

“Hey.”

“You look like death.”

Y/N shrugged, “Just tired I guess.”

“Tim not back yet?”

“No.” She moved to let Stephanie in. “He won’t be back till New Years. Apparently there was some work emergency in Paris or something.”

“Again?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s so stupid.”

She laughed, “You’re telling me.”

“Well, no offense, but if I was you, I would say something.”

“Say what? Say that I’m mad he has a life that doesn’t revolve around me? A life that I have no idea what it means? That I have no understanding of?”

“Exactly.”

“I can’t Stephanie. I would love to, but I can’t.”

“Why not?” Stephanie turned to look at Y/N, “It’s what I did.”

“And look where it got you!”

“Hey! I ended the relationship because I just didn’t need one and could tell that someone had caught his eye Miss. Y/N Y/L/N.”

She rolled her eyes, “Whatever Steph.”

Stephanie rested her hand on Y/N’s arm, “Y/N, I’ve known you for 3 years. I’ve known you long enough to know that him doing this is killing you. I know that you thrive through physical touch and people being there for you. Not over the phone there. But physically.”

“Okay! Fine! Say you’re right! Say I should confront Tim, then what?! He’ll come back and stay for a few weeks and then do this again! I’ve tried Stephanie! Honest! I’ve tried to tell him how I feel and every single time he comes back for a few weeks, maybe 3 months, and then he does it again! I’m sick and tired of it!”

“Then break up with him! Y/N, I have been trying to give you all these ways to help you realize that you need to leave Tim! No, I won’t deny that he loves you, but he won’t stop pushing you away until you can’t handle it anymore and snap! He did it to me!”

“But why hasn’t any other ex come out about it?!”

“Because we’re the only people he’s ever truly loved Y/N! That’s why he does it! He’d rather us never be in his life than for us him to risk loosing us! It took me almost a whole year to convince him to let us just be friends! Not Spoiler or Batgirl and Red Robin or just Robin, but Stephanie Brown and Tim Drake-Wayne!”

Y/N hated this. She knew Steph was right. She knew that it would be an unending cycle. She knew that they were the only people he ever loved. She knew she could never stop his fears.

“Steph…how do I do it? I-I’ve never broken up with someone before. Everyone has broken up with me. I’ve never done it myself.”

She shrugged, “I can’t tell you. I just did it when it came to him. But, it did take a while to convince myself that it was what was right for me.”

Y/N sat on the couch, “How can guys do this with such ease?”

Stephanie sat next to Y/N, “I can never tell you. I’ve wondered that for years myself.”

——–

Y/N fiddled with her phone. Finger constantly hovering over Tim’s name. She sat her phone down and looked around the room. All of her things had been packed away. Tim had been so insistent on her keeping her old place after she moved in. Just in case something happened. Neither of them would have thought it would be this. She sighed and grabbed her phone. Finally deciding to call him. Of course it had to be when she finally decided to do it, he called. She scrolled to answer.

“Tim.”

“Y/N, is everything okay?”

“Ye-” She stopped herself, “No, everything is not fine.”

“Why? What happened?”

“You did.”

“I did? What do you mean?”

“Tim…you won’t stop pushing me away. And I get it. It’s because you don’t want me to get hurt. Whatever. But the least you could have done is be here for holidays. I mean, it’s fucking Christmas. You own brother was upset by this one.”

She heard some shuffling and soon his voice came back. “Y/N, just give me a second. Work can wait. I can be home for Christmas.”

“No Tim. Just don’t. Deal with the work shit. I’m done with it. Just don’t come home for Christmas. You’re the last fucking person I wanna see now.”

His words were trembling, “Y/N please, I love you!”

She looked at her watch and saw it was past 12 am. Merry fucking Christmas, Tim. I could care less.”

She ended the call, tossed the phone onto the bed, laid down and acted like she didn’t just end the best 3 years of her life.

[chobit92]

Far Cry 5: Reunited: Part Three

(Mara is giving Gabriel a bath. She wonders if Joseph and John are going to come back. She’s found herself wondering if they are really Jacob’s brothers. They must be. A part of her curses that uptight bitch at the homeless shelter for giving out her address to strangers. Cow. She feels like taking a drive over there to give the old bitch a piece of her mind. But what a waste of gas that would be. She finishes washing Gabriel and sits down on the loo seat leaving him to play with his toys. He isn’t going to go to bed yet anyway. He’s always been a pain to put to bed. Especially when Jacob isn’t here. Mara knows it’s partially her fault as some nights she lets him stay up until he falls asleep. It doesn’t help that Rachel comes in at stupid o clock in the morning either. It infuriates Mara when she wakes him up. Jacob doesn’t like being woken up either. She sighs and takes out a cigarette lighting it up. She cracks open the bathroom window and takes a drag. She doesn’t care what people think of her continuing to smoke when she’s pregnant. What she does is her business and it didn’t do Gabriel any harm. Her mother smoked through all of her pregnancies. She had three kids. Gabriel is staring at her. He takes after his father and doesn’t always speak much. He then points to something on the windowsill.).

Mara: What? Use your words honey.

(Gabriel looks at her for a moment.).

Gabriel: Whale.

(She sighs.).

Mara: Could I have the whale please?

(She picks up the plastic whale and puts it in the bath. Gabriel grabs it and puts it under the water filling it up. She knows what he’s gonna do, he does it every time. Seconds later he has taken aim and pressed the button so the whale squirts out water. It goes onto the floor and hits her.).

Mara: Stop that.

(Gabriel smiles. She finds herself smiling back at him. She finishes her cigarette and tosses the butt down the loo.).

Mara: Right come on time to get out now.

(Gabriel stands up and she lifts him out of the bath before wrapping him up in a towel.).

*

(Jacob is staring at his brothers trying to work out what to say.).

John: Could look happier to see us.

Joseph: John.

John: What?

Joseph: It’s good to see you again brother. I never lost hope that we would find each other again.

Jacob: Good to see you too Joe.

John: So...Met your wife. She’s a pistol isn’t she?

(Joseph sighs. Jacob frowns.).

Jacob: Hm.

Joseph: She told us to tell you she isn’t mad.

Jacob: Hm. Means she’s mad as hell.

Joseph: She seemed mad at someone called Lonny.

Jacob: Wouldn’t wanna be him.

Joseph: So what happened?

Jacob: Usual shit. He’s always gotta problem.

John: Mara told us he likes to get drunk and start fights.

Jacob: Yeah.

John: She said he thinks you’re a psycho because you got scared of some fireworks or something.

(Jacob narrows his eyes.).

Joseph: It’s nothing to be ashamed of brother. It’s perfectly understandable.

Jacob: What is?

(Nobody seems to know what to say.).

Joseph: I am sure you saw many things during your time in the army and experienced things that nobody should have to. It is perfectly understandable that there are some things you find hard to deal with now. I just wish that people like this Lonny understood that.

(Jacob says nothing. Joseph notices how haunted his older brother looks. How tired and broken he is. He sighs.).

Joseph: I am sorry it has taken me so long to find you.

Jacob: Not your fault.

John: Well we are back together now and once we get you out of here we will have to have a family dinner.

Jacob: Hm.

(Joseph reaches out to Jacob and grips his arm staring at him. Jacob doesn’t seem to know what to say or what to do. Then Jacob has moved forwards and is reaching for Joseph through the bars.).

Joseph: I am so sorry brother.

Jacob: What for?

Joseph: Leaving you alone for this long.

Jacob: Not your fault.

John: Least you’ve got a gorgeous wife to take care of you. Lucky.

Jacob: Hm. No idea what she sees in me.

Joseph: Well perhaps she sees something that you don’t.

Jacob: Can’t think what. I’m just a broken scarred old man.

Joseph: No. You are our brother. Our protector.

Jacob: Didn’t do you much good did I?

Joseph: Stop talking like that.

John: I almost can’t believe we’re together again. After all this time.

Joseph: I knew that we would be. I had faith.

(Jacob grips Joseph’s hand as if he’s going to suddenly disappear.).

Sheriff: Right that’s time I’m afraid. Come on.

Joseph: We will get this sorted out.

John: You mean I will.

Joseph: We will back tomorrow.

Jacob: Don’t worry about me. Don’t matter if I rot in here.

Joseph: Brother don’t talk like that. You matter. To us and to your wife and children.

John: We’ll get you out of here Jacob.

Jacob: It’s okay. Won’t be in here long. That Lonny prick can never be bothered to press charges. He hit me anyway I ain’t done nothin’.

Sheriff: Let’s go move it.

Joseph: Mara is making up the guest bedroom for us. You sit tight brother we will be together again. A family.

John: See you soon brother.

(Jacob nods and grips Joseph’s hand then John’s. He then sits back down on the bed as Joseph and John are led away by the Sheriff.).

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

Right as a Rose (2/5)

Klaine 3-2-1 Prompt Bang Fic: Right as a Rose

Author: @slipping-through-my-fingertips​

Artist: @gleefulpoppet​

Prompt Provided by: anonymous

Pairing(s): Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 10.9k

Characters: Kurt Hummel, Elliott Gilbert, Blaine Anderson, Santana Lopez, Rachel Berry, Cooper Anderson

Summary: Elliott's been cast in NYU's spring musical and there's a fellow cast member who he wants to set up with his best friend and bandmate, Kurt. No blind date happens but Kurt does find himself drawn to Blaine Anderson, who plays the male lead. Kurt gets himself invited to the cast party and makes a fool of himself in front of Blaine but still ends up in his bed.

Genre/Tropes: College!Klaine,  

Warnings: Implied Sexual Content (if you know me, I don’t write actual sex scenes)

All Chapters | Ao3

Chapter 2: Something Good

The next day, Kurt and the girls all sleep in. By the time they’ve all wandered into the living room with a cup of coffee in hand, they agree no one feels much like cooking their usual Saturday morning breakfast extravaganza, typically 3 different entrees, five sides, and two freshly squeezed juices. So, Kurt flips some pancakes, Rachel makes breakfast potatoes by his side, and Santana does bacon. Orange juice is poured and breakfast is eaten in relative silence. A quiet start to a busy day.

Rachel has to meet with a study group so she showers first. This is fine with the other two, Santana and Kurt put on some trashy television and are content to procrastinate on their days a little longer. Once Rachel is done in the bathroom, Kurt brushes his teeth but allows Santana to take the next shower. He doesn’t need to go anywhere today but it’s nearly 11 am and he needs to get started on some homework.

Eventually, Kurt gets so caught up in his work he doesn’t realize it’s nearing dinner time and he has completely missed his lunch break. Santana is on shift at the diner and Rachel has leftovers from her lunch study group, which means Kurt’s on his own for dinner.

He checks his phone, no new messages, so he texts Elliott.

Kurt: Wanna meet for dinner?

No matter Elliott’s answer, Kurt still doesn’t have the motivation to cook. He fixes his hair and gets a bag together to leave.

Elliott has always been a quick texter so he replies within minutes.

Elliott: usual place?

The same spot they frequent for Sunday brunch also serves a fabulous dinner.

Kurt: see you there in 40

Kurt ends up changing his outfit completely. He had been in loungewear all day but if he wasn’t just picking up takeout, people were going to see him and there was no way he was going out like this. He liked to avoid leaving the loft in sweatpants. As he knots a light gray ascot around his neck, he thinks “so what if the invitation to dinner was a little selfish?”

He had just seen Elliott yesterday and could have easily gotten soup and a sandwich from the café next to their apartment building but Kurt had ulterior motives to go out to eat. Specifically to get dinner with his friend. Kurt knew Elliott would inevitably ask Kurt if he wanted to come see the show again and join him at the cast party afterward.

Of course, about halfway through their dinner, Elliott does just that, “I know you just saw the show yesterday but if you wanted to see it again and tag along to the after-party, you’re welcome to come.”

“Oh,” Kurt said, he was an actor himself after all and needs to appear a little surprised by this offer.

“Assuming you don’t already have plans,” Elliott adds.

“No plans,” Kurt assures him, “I’d love to.”

Unbeknownst to Kurt, the main reason Elliott is inviting him is because he’s still hoping to set his friend up with someone. A great place to meet new people is a party. Elliott has learned to trust Rachel and Santana when they agree on something. After last night’s texts between the three of them, they are all firm believers that Kurt has eyes for NYU’s Tony aka Blaine Anderson.

They take the subway together but part ways upon entering the theater. Since his first ticket was a gift, Kurt doesn’t mind so much paying to see the same production of West Side Story again. That and he’s excited to get lost in the performances, one in particular. By the end of the night, Kurt is positive he’ll learn his name. He’ll seek him out at the cast party, beg Elliott for an introduction, or if he’s really lucky they'll bump into each other at the snack table.

Directly after establishing his mission, he’s being handed a playbill. He finds a seat somewhere in the middle and excitedly flips through it. On the second page is the list of the cast members.

María...Kate Navarro

Tony…Blaine Anderson

Blaine. What a lovely name.

When the performance ends, people exit the theater quickly but not Kurt. He stands to let people out of his row but sits back down until he’s one of the last people there. Elliott suggested they meet just outside the auditorium before they headed out to the cast party together. The lobby is surely packed with families and friends waiting for the cast. Not wanting to stand around the crowded lobby looking like a weirdo all alone Kurt is happy to be waiting inside scrolling through his phone.

Some of the cast comes into the auditorium to meet their families or friend who like Kurt don’t want to brave the crowd just outside this door. Anytime a door opens, he can hear the number of people still hanging out in the lobby. Almost twenty minutes have gone by when Elliott texts him that he’ll be out soon. This means Kurt looks up every time the noises from the lobby get louder hoping his friend is the one coming in. The fourth time this happens, it’s Blaine walking in.

Blaine is wearing tight jeans, an equally tight forest green polo, and a bright yellow bowtie. From where Kurt is sitting, it looks solid yellow with splashes of pink. Kurt would give almost anything to know what pattern the bowtie is—stripes, polka dots, or perhaps cute little objects like hearts.

He follows Blaine’s movements as he walks down towards the stage. Kurt sees him hug a slightly taller man and Blaine is handed a bouquet of flowers. The two men are clearly close, the tall man is draping an arm around Blaine’s shoulders and they’re both smiling.

Kurt is so caught up in watching the men that he completely misses the next time the door opens revealing Elliott, who aggressively waves to his friend in an attempt to get Kurt’s attention. It isn’t until Elliott is standing directly next to him that Kurt notices his presence.

He follows Kurt’s line of sight and assumes Kurt is staring at Blaine not the closed curtains on stage. “Did you like what you saw?” Elliott questions, only partly talking about West Side Story.

Rather than answer his friend's questions, Kurt can’t help but say, “Tony…”

He’s in such a daze Elliott’s pretty sure he didn’t realize he had spoken at all. With a small chuckle, Elliott takes the seat next to Kurt.

“Oh, you mean Blaine, the guy I tried to set you up with this Sunday,” Elliott teases.

“Huh…”

Elliott waves a hand in front of Kurt’s face. Yeah, his friend is a complete goner.

“You’ve never been more articulate than you are right now.”

The plan had been to wait until the party to introduce Kurt and Blaine but this is a perfect opportunity to embarrass Kurt, which is something Elliott rarely passes up. He’s about to yell down to Blaine and wave him up here since he’s only two rows in front of them but Blaine’s companion does the work for him. The tall man is now pointing in their direction. Kurt whips his head to Elliott panicking and sees his friend waving Blaine and the man over.

“What are you doing?” Kurt hisses. “I can’t talk to him.”

“Better get ready.”

Elliott smiles wide, “Blaine! Hey, this is my friend Kurt.”

Blaine smiles back at Elliott then turns his attention to Kurt. He extends a hand, “Hi, I’m Blaine.”

“Nice to meet you.”

They shake hands. All Kurt can think is “Oh god, is my hand sweaty?” then it’s over all too quickly and his thoughts quickly switch to “Oh god, his hand is so soft.” Then, Kurt’s eyes widen and he thinks: “Oh god, I hope I didn’t say that out loud.”

It appears he didn’t because Blaine and Elliott are having their own conversation, which he tunes into, and neither of them gives him any notice. For once in his life, Kurt is happy to not be the star. He doesn’t want or need the attention on him. Mostly because he’s fearful that he won’t be able to filter his words or speak at all if Blaine asks him anything.

“Blainey, aren’t you going to introduce me,” the tall man interrupts, “I’ve learned it’s rude to assume people know who I am, they’re always too embarrassed to ask me themselves before excitedly asking for a photo or autograph once I tell them and we really don’t want anyone to be upset to walk away without either of those things.”

Before Blaine can even respond, the man introduces himself.

“I’m Cooper Anderson, yes that Cooper Anderson,” he says, “Blainey’s my little brother.” He ruffles Blaine’s hair as he says this, “and you are?”

“This is Elliott, our Bernardo,” Blaine says, “and Elliott’s boyfriend who I have yet to meet.”

“Oh no, not dating!” Elliott corrects, “this is Kurt, we’re in a band together.”

Kurt raises his hand in greeting. Thanking the universe and everything in it that Elliott is here.

“That’s so cool, I’d love to come see you guys sometime,” Blaine says.

“I’m sure you would,” Cooper replies, which makes Blaine unexplainably blush.

“Are you going to the cast party?” Blaine asks, looking directly at Kurt.

“Yeah.”

Blaine smiles at them.

“I wasn’t sure if the college kids would be too overwhelmed if I came but Blainey’s assured me it’ll be under control,” Cooper tells them.

Blaine slaps his brother playfully, “you’re not famous, Coop.”

“Says you,” he replies, “Blaine here doesn’t see my stardom. It’s our close bond as brothers that blinds him.”

Kurt and Elliott chuckle at that. When they get a moment alone, Kurt will have to ask who the hell Cooper Anderson even is. He prides himself on keeping up with the newest faces in Hollywood and Broadway but Kurt has never heard of him. He doesn’t know Blaine well enough to know if he’s just teasing his brother about being famous or if Cooper really isn’t a big name…yet.

“Well, we better get going,” Cooper tells them, “I’m taking Blainey to dinner first then to the party.”

“I’ll see you later then,” Blaine comments, but his eyes don’t leave Kurt’s face.

“We’ll see you there,” Elliott says.

Kurt can only nod. Blaine wants to see him later…at the party.

Once Cooper and Blaine disappear, Elliott pulls his friend outside as well.

“Real smooth in there, casanova,” Elliott teases as they walk towards the student housing.

This springs Kurt back to the present.

“What a disaster!” he exclaims, “made a huge fool of myself.”

Elliott, the jerk, laughs.

“I told you I wasn’t ready to talk to him!”

“Better this than never speaking at all,” Elliott tells him, “I was going to introduce you at some point tonight anyway. I think you’re just exaggerating.”

“I’m not. That was awful. I couldn’t speak to him!”

“And he still wants to see you later, that’s a win.”

Kurt glares at his friend.  

They don’t have much farther to walk. Elliott swipes his student ID into the dorm building and leads Kurt to an elevator.

“It’s on the third floor,” he says, pressing the button. “Hope you’ll be able to hang around long enough to see Blaine again, I think he’ll be disappointed if you’re not here when he gets back from dinner.”

“Shut up,” Kurt mumbles.

“Cheer up, Kurt, it’ll all be fine, just don’t get too drunk alright?”

[thestarrynightslover]

I'll Make It Okay for You - Part 1

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Word count: 3,666

Warnings: Discussion, yelling, some angst, mentions of drugs, and drug abuse. 

Summary: What happens when (y/n) (y/l/n), Harvey’s secret crush and a junior partner at his firm, openly defies him in front of everyone?

You can find Part 2 here.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the show Suits, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: So, this is my first Harvey Specter fic and I’m obviously quite unsure about it, lol. This might’ve ended up like one big mess, cause I tried to combine a bunch of Harveys I wanted to see. The perfect recipe for disaster, right? Anyways, I hope it doesn’t suck too bad and, please, feel free to give me feedback, cause I’m also here to learn!!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

You’d barely stepped out of the elevator when you were met by your secretary that morning. That couldn’t mean anything good.

“Morning, (y/n/n). You’ve got an emergency meeting with Jessica today. Gonna give you the schedule on the way there.” Lucy stated, leading you on the opposite way to Jessica’s office.

“Oh, I got the memo; company’s under attack again. She wants me on the frontlines this time. Louis is probably running around saying ‘We’re at war, people, war!!!’, or something like that. But why aren’t we headed towards the boss’ office?”

“Apparently, uh, she wants y’all to convey at Harvey’s office.” She said hesitantly, as if afraid of your reaction.

“Are you kidding me? It’s the first hour of the morning and she wants me to go see that smug face of his?” You pouted childishly.

“Smug and hot, you mean.” Lucy corrected you, getting an outraged look from you in response, as she usually would by saying anything positive about Specter.

“Shush,” You said, motioning for her to stop talking, “ one shall not praise Harvey Annoying Specter around me.” You stated full of obstination, but the younger woman just laughed you off and said:

“Well, here we are. I guess I’ll just have to send you an e-mail with your schedule, since, once again, we spent our schedule minutes of the day talking about “the enemy”.” She mocked with gestures and everything this time. That Lucy really was a piece of work, she timed the whole thing perfectly, in a way that you couldn’t even repudiate her insinuations because you were already standing in front of Specter’s office door.

Not long after you had entered and Jessica had officially started the strategy-meeting, though, all eyes in the room turned to you, as your phone started ringing in your back pocket. "Shit! I'm- I'm so sorry, guys, I guess I-"

"Can you please take your job seriously for once in your life, (y/l/n)?" You heard Harvey Pain-In-The-Ass Specter rudely remark, as you tried to swallow your embarrassment.

“Well, like I was trying to say, I’m sorry. Gonna turn it off right now, won’t happen again.” You said, directing your apologetic look to Jessica.

“You should just go ahead and answer it, could be something important.” She calmly told you.

“Especially now that you’ve already interrupted our work.” Specter chipped in again, which just gave you more fuel to answer the goddamn phone.

“Hello, yeah this is her.” You confirmed to the man on the phone, while taking a few steps towards the corner of the room. “What??? Are you sure? Oh my God! O- okay, just tell me which one and I’ll be there as soon as possible! Right, thank you.” Everyone’s eyes were on you, trying to understand what made you look so distressed. Except his, of course.

“Wait a second. Are you leaving right now?” He asked with a mix of annoyance and irritation in his voice.

“Yes, I am. I’m sorry, Jessica, but this is a family emergency. I have to go.”

“Well, I just hope you know that this doesn’t look good for you, (y/n).” She said, voice inexpressive.

“I do and, honestly? I couldn’t care less about that right now.” You firmly told her, while hoping your career wasn’t over by the next morning.

“I hope everything goes well for you and your family, (y/n). If you need anything, and I mean anything, just let me know.” Louis told you with that childish smile of his. Jesus, even in a moment like this, he tried to flirt with you.

“Thank you, Louis. That’s very kind.” You faked a tiny smile.

“Unbelievable.” 

“What?” You asked, turning back to face Harvey.

“Your firm is under attack and you’re leaving because of some stupid family crap?” Was he even serious?

“Precisely. And I don’t really care what your thoughts are on it. Our priorities are clearly very different.” Who the hell did he think he was to say anything about your family’s issues?

“Well, that shouldn’t matter because, the minute you walk in here, through those elevators out there, you’re supposed to leave all things personal behind.”

“Oh, right. I’m so sorry that I’m not some heartless lawyer like you, who’s just in it for the petty fights in the name of money-making.” Shit. You needed to get the hell out of there before you said something else to make Specter wanna kick you out himself. So you did. Stormed out like there was no tomorrow, leaving nothing but the very shocked Donna, Jessica, Louis, Mike, and Rachel behind. Oh, yeah, and a very pissed-off Harvey Specter.

Okay, maybe you were a little too harsh, but given the place you needed to go, to do what you needed to do, you didn't care about Harvey, your job, or anything else.

---

It was much later on that same day, around dinner time, that you heard a soft knock on your door. But how could someone be at your door, if the doorman downstairs hadn't announced any visitors? Were you dreaming? Well, the day had been so tiring that that wasn't exactly impossible… Nonetheless, you made your way to the door, whilst holding your very needy three-year-old nephew in your arms. Not that you could blame Henry after the day he’d had.

Since you weren’t expecting anyone, it was reasonable to believe that, whoever it was, was going to be a surprise. But not in a million years would have you ever guessed that Harvey Specter was the one knocking at your door. Especially considering what had happened at the firm earlier. How did he even know your address?

“Hi, (y/l/n). I didn’t know you had a kid.” He stated with a bit of surprise of his own, pointing to the little boy you were carrying.

“No, uh, I don’t have any.” You managed to say, trying to control your shocked expression. “This is my nephew.” You clarified again, a little more at ease this time.

“My name’s Henry. What’s yours?” You heard your nephew ask with his cute child-voice.

“Harvey. It’s, uh, it’s very nice to meet you, Henry.” Harvey told the boy, holding out his hand for him to shake, as a sweet smile came to his lips.

“Is he your friend, auntie (y/n/n)?” Henry asked you hesitantly, before making a move. The Don’t Talk to Strangers Rule must’ve kicked in his mind. 

Before answering him, you hesitated a little bit yourself, though. Was Harvey your friend? Obviously not, but if he came to your apartment in the middle of the night like this, it was probably because of something important. Work-related, of course. Which meant you’d have to let him in, so you settled for what would be the easiest classification for a three-year-old.

“Yeah, bud, he is my friend from work.” Hearing that, something in Specter’s eyes changed, you didn’t really know what, though.

“Well, then, can he come play with us?” He gave you such a cute look, that you almost said yes right on cue. But you obviously couldn’t. 

“You’d have to ask him, but I’m sure he has a lot of other, more important, things to do now.” You tried to explain to the little boy, giving Harvey a look. But you didn’t get too far, as the lawyer quickly said:

“Of course I wanna go play with you! That is if your auntie’s okay with that…” Now he was mocking you, that was the only explanation.

“Can we play with him, then, auntie (y/n/n)? Please, please, please?” God, what horrible thing could’ve you possibly done to deserve this particular punishment?

“Um, I guess... If he really has nothing better to do-” Harvey didn’t even let you finish your sentence.

“I really don’t.” He said, shooting you and Henry a bright smile that you’d never seen before.

“Okay, then, come in. Please disregard the mess, I got this stuff to make dinner, but someone just won’t detach, right, mister?” You asked your nephew with fake annoyance in your voice, as you tickled his sides a little bit. He just laughed at you. Though what really caught your attention was the fact that Harvey, too, was chuckling lightly at the scene, as he started picking up your groceries’ bags from the floor. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you, what else?” You gave him a weird look because, well, it was a weird situation. Maybe he noticed your discomfort because he added: “You look tired, so I’ll help you by making dinner and putting the rest of these away.”

“You’re kidding, right?” There was no way in hell that the All-Mighty Harvey Specter was gonna get domestic for you, of all people. Since he didn’t bother to answer, you went on: “First of all, what was it that you really came here to do, hum? And, second, I don’t need your help with anything.” Normally you tried to be kind to everyone, but, then again, Specter wasn’t exactly your normal kind of guy.

“Well, first of all,” he started in a tone of mockery, “that was rude! Look at the example you’re setting for little Henry!” Oh God, as much as you hated to admit it, he was kinda right, because you had completely forgotten about the little boy still cradled in your arms. “Second, we can talk about the reason why I came here later,” after your nephew’s asleep, was implicit in his speech, “third, it looks like you do need some help. And, for your luck, I happen to be a very good cook when I want to.”

“But-” You could barely begin your sentence, as Harvey sharply cut you off:

“You see, buddy,” he started, motioning to Henry this time, “the quicker we get your auntie on board with the game plan, the quicker we’ll get to eat and go play together!” Son of a bitch! Using a child to get to you…

“Can we please, auntie? Please?” How could you not crack after that pleading?

“Fine, but I swear I’ll make you pay if we wake up with food poisoning tomorrow, Specter.” You told him playfully, trying to lighten the mood after all of your bluntness.

“Oh, trust me, (y/l/n), you won’t. This will be the best meal you and the young man here will ever have in your entire lives.” He said cockily, but without the usual arrogance level, if that even makes sense.

A few hours and a really great dinner later, you and Henry couldn’t help but snicker shamelessly at Harvey’s ridiculous faces, as the three of you played a game on your living room’s floor. Trying to catch your breath from your giggles, you glanced up at the clock and realized that it was way too late for your nephew to be out of bed like that. So you broke up the game, announcing:

“It’s bedtime for you, Mr. Henry.” You watched the faces of the pair turn into ones of pure disappointment, as they prepared to pout.

“Just a little longer, auntie (y/n/n)! please!” The little boy started.

“Yeah, auntie, just a little longer! Please?” This time it was the grown man, one of the toughest Wall Street lawyers.

“As moved as I am by your synchrony, guys, the answer is a big no. C’mon, bud, let’s go brush your teeth. And then straight to bed. So say bye to Harvey, and thank him for being so nice to us tonight.” He looked between you and Specter as if still hoping for a hail Mary of some sort.

“Bye, Harvey.” He sounded so sad, but then he smiled brightly again, as he repeated what you’d told him to say word by word: “And thank you for being so nice to us tonight.” Hearing that, both you and Harvey chuckled lightly at the young boy, who quickly added: “Will you come see us tomorrow too?”

“Uh, we’ll, uh, we’ll see about that, okay, little man?” He tried to let Henry down slowly but, watching the boy’s expression become a sad one instantly, he added: “It’s just because both your auntie and I have a lot of work ahead of us tomorrow, but I’ll do my best, okay?” That was definitely a side of Harvey you’d never seen before, he had even bent down to be on your nephew’s level.

“Okay.” Henry said quietly, seeming to be a little happier, too.

“Okay, then let’s just go upstairs already.” You took the boy’s hand to guide him towards the spare bedroom’s bathroom, all the while shooting Specter a look that told him to wait for you a little longer.

“I’ll wait for you down here.” He said, proving he understood what your eyes tried to transmit.

So you headed upstairs with your nephew and, after a good fifteen minutes of brushing Henry’s teeth, helping him into his PJs, and tucking him in, you finally managed to come back to the living room, where you found Harvey looking through some of your photos displayed on the sideboard. For a minute or two, you just watched him. It wasn’t that you liked what you saw or anything. It wasn’t. It was more like postponing the weird conversation you two were bound to have, because, after all that had happened in those few hours, the atmosphere was, at very least, a strange one. But, almost as if he’d felt your gaze on his back, the lawyer in him was switched on, and he interrupted your thoughts by saying:

“Ah, you’re back. Good, because we need to talk.” You just motioned for him to follow you into your home office. But both you and Harvey looked so informal to be in that kind of environment, that you just indicated the small couch on the wall opposite to your desk for you to take your seats in.

“So, uh, before you even say anything, I wanna thank you for being so kind tonight,” a small smile came to your lips, as you remembered, not only the evening but how your nephew had used almost those exact same words, already imitating you, a little earlier. Specter smiled too, you noticed. “and I also wanna apologize. If you came here to talk to me… I must’ve made you waste a lot of time, huh?” You tried with a half-smile this time, as embarrassment started taking over you.

“What? No, of course not! I'm pretty sure that I told you I didn't have anything better to do, didn't I?" He calmly asked with a smile.

"Yeah, but I'm not buying it. You're Harvey Specter, isn't that what you're always saying? And Harvey Specter always has something better to do, isn't that right?" You shot back in a mockery tone, regaining your confidence.

"Well, maybe. But, not today. So don't apologize, and don't thank me. I'm the one who should be thanking you, I had a really good time tonight." Okay, now you were shocked. He had a good time?

"Uh, okay, um, so... What was so urgent that you had to come here in the middle of the night?" You nervously ranted, while tugging your hair behind your ears. He just stared at you, so much so that you almost repeated your question.

"Um, yeah, about this morning… That's why I came here…" You were already guessing that that would come up eventually, but it was the topic of your conversation? "I know that you and I always had our differences, and maybe even some rivalry-"

"Some rivalry? Dude, I'm just a junior partner, and ever since I started on that firm you've been persecuting me-"

"I wouldn't say persecuting…"

"Oh, you wouldn't?"

"Not since you made junior partner anyways. Now it's just a healthy rivalry between work friends…" He tried to use what you’d told your nephew earlier. 

"Oh, so you do admit you were persecuting me when I was an associate, huh?"

"Shit." He muttered quietly, as you watched him with a victory smile on your lips. "You know what? Hell yeah, I did persecute you when you were an associate." Hearing that blunt admission of guilt, you just couldn't find anything to say. “You wanna know why? I did that because, from the first time I saw you doing your job, I saw this very thing that I see now: you kicking ass, you think I wanted to admit this to you? I’ll answer it myself: no, I didn’t. The only reason why it happened is that you led me to it.” He blurted out, completely knocking you off your socks.

“So, um, you treated, you treat me like shit because, um, because I’m good?” You asked, still unsure of what to think about his confession.

“Well, that was part of it, sure. So, you see, I could understand it when you weren’t particularly thrilled at the perspective of working with me. But, this morning, you said that I’m a heartless guy who only cares about money… Is that really what you think of me?” This time he sounded genuinely sad? When Harvey said that he’d come to your apartment to talk about that morning, you thought he was gonna reprimand the shit out of you for disrespecting him ⎯ your sort of boss, a senior partner ⎯, but, apparently, he was asking about it on a more personal level. A level you’d never really thought played a part in your relationship with him.

“Oh, Harvey…”

“Be honest, please. I don’t want your pity. You don’t even know me all that well, so don’t try to minimize anything. I can take it.”

“That’s not what I was gonna do. And, trust me, you’re probably the last person in the world I’d pity.” You told him with a sly smile. “You’re right. I don’t know you all that well. Or, at least, I didn’t this morning. But I do know that you’re not heartless. Also, I was really out of line then, I’ve seen you fighting tooth and nail for a lot more than just money in that firm. You’re loyal to your firm and friends like no one else and, tonight, I watched you sitting on the floor and playing with a little boy. And, trust me, that meant more to him than you’d ever know, especially after today… Anyways, what I’m really trying to say is that I was so damn wrong and that I’m sorry. I’d gotten some pretty nerve-racking news beforehand, not that that’s an excuse but...” You told him, meaning every word and trying hard to show how much you regretted your previous actions.

“Wait, what news?”

“Ah, it’s nothing for you to worry about, really.” You tried to brush him off.

“Oh, c’mon! You said all those nice things about me, but when it comes to your life and your problems you still don’t trust me, isn’t that right?” His tone was sharply inexpressive, but his eyes showed he was actually hurt.

“What are you talking about? Oh my God, Harvey! I’ve relied on you for a number of cases that I really cared about! I let you in on my apartment! I let you spend an entire night around my nephew! Of course, I trust you!”

“Then what the hell is the problem? You think I’m not gonna give a damn about your family issues? Is that it? Because I am literally begging you to tell me about them!”

“I don’t wanna tell you because I don’t want you, or anyone else on the firm, to think that I’m some pathetic little girl who uses her family issues as an excuse to get out of a tough fight.” You confessed in a lower tone, slightly embarrassed, just hoping he would understand and stop poking. “Things are very different when you’re a woman, you know…”

“I would never think that about you. Family is important. Especially if it’s made of people like Henry…” He said, reassuring you, even though there was a hint of sadness in his voice. “Besides, you said you trust me, so you need to trust me when I say that I wouldn’t betray you by telling people about your problems. I’m not here as your boss, (y/n). I just wanna help you.” He sounded so sincere and, if you were being honest with yourself, you kinda really needed to vent.

“Okay, um, where to start? I have two sisters: Henry’s mother, Kat, and a fifteen-year-old, Lisa. I’m the older one of all three of us. Lisa’s sick, like very sick, so my parents, who are both retired, are with her at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, to try and get her better. In the meantime, Kat was supposed to go to college, as well as care for her son, between my parents and me, she wouldn’t even need to provide for them or anything. But, a while ago, she overdosed for the first time. That’s when we found out about her addiction. We’ve already tried a million different things but nothing works. So, my parents and I threatened to make her lose her parental rights over Henry, hoping that it’d be a wake-up call for her, but it backfired. She just took the boy and disappeared, then today I get that call, from the police department, saying that she was in custody for drug distribution and endangering the well-fare of a minor. They asked me to go pick my nephew and, maybe, get Kat a lawyer.” And, just like that, you’d told Harvey Specter, of all people, everything. Tears rolling down your cheeks and him pulling you into a hug.

If anyone had told you that that was how your night was gonna go, you would have definitely laughed them out of the room. But now, just sitting there, being held and caressed by Harvey, as you let your armor down, it was finally beginning to look like things were gonna be okay. 

[youreobsessedwithdc]

Don’t Come Home For Christmas

Based off these lyrics from the Fall Out Boy song Yule Shoot Your Eye Out

Don't come home for Christmas You're the last thing I wanna see Underneath the tree Merry Christmas, I could care less

This was originally supposed to be for Bruce, but when I was almost done I decided to change it to Tim

And as for why is Damian with Tim and Y/N and not Bruce? Good question, I was just too lazy to take it out and I changed up some words

Characters probably Out Of Character, usually are in my fics cause I’m not good at keeping them In Character

Anyways, I hope you enjoy

Y/N looked at her phone and sighed. Tim was calling, again. She was pretty sure she knew exactly why he was calling. It was three days before Christmas and he was off in London office because something happened. She slid her  thumb over and answered. Continuing to do what she previously was.

“What’s up?”

“Hey, I won’t be able to make it home for Christmas.”

“Oh?”

She heard him sigh over the phone, “Yeah, I’ll be in the Paris Office.”

She stopped what she doing and nearly dropped what was in her hand. “What do you mean?”

“Um, there’s some things that need to be done there and since I’m here I offered to help out.”

She rolled her eyes. Of course. He just couldn’t fucking say no, could he?. “Okay. That’s fine. So when should you be back?”

“Around New Years.”

“Okay. Well, I gotta go. Somebody else is calling me.”

“But Y/N--”

“Bye Tim.”

She ended the call and let out a frustrated scream. Of course he had fucking work shit to do instead of being home. She had barely seen him in the past few months because he was always off doing something. And he always told her after he promised to be home. At this point, she had no idea what to do. She was tired of him never being home and leaving her to do everything. 

She ended up walking down the hall and to Damian’s room. She knocked on the 14 year old’s door, waiting for him to open it. When he did, he didn’t even give her time to tell him, he already knew. “Tim won’t be home, will he?” 

She shook her head and she knew that he was trying to hide the fact that he was hurt. In the past 3 years she’s known him, she’s noticed the small things he does. Many that are similar to Tim, even though they weren’t even related by blood. But she knew that over the past 4 years of being with his brother, Damian had gotten close with him. But he unfortunately had gotten used to the lies about when he would be home.

“He said that he would be home bye New Years.”

“And you believe him?”

She scoffed, “Really kid? You’ve known me 3 years, you really think I’d believe him?”

He shrugged, “You would 3 years ago.”

She shrugged back, “I as more naïve when it came to Tim and everything he does.”

“Well, who is going to be here for Christmas?”

“Selina, Bruce, Dick, Jason, Stephanie, Duke, Barbara, and Cass haven’t backed out. Kate said she wasn’t sure still. I believe Dick is gonna bring the Titans--”

“Yeah, Rachel said she’d be here.”

She smirked, “Oh? You talk to her?”

“I--not like that! We’re just friends.”

She smiled, “Alright kid.” She ran a hand through her hair, “I know Jason said he’d see if Artemis could come. Other than that, I think that’s it.“

“Okay. Well, is that all?”

“Sure grouch.”

“I’m not a grouch.”

“Sure you aren’t.” She sighed, “See you at Dinner.”

She heard him say something as she walked away, but didn’t fully register it. 

--------

Y/N nearly fell down the stairs when she heard the doorbell ring. After she caught herself, she ran down the rest of the steps to the door. Honestly, she was surprised that their dog didn’t start barking at it. Well, until she remembered that he was out in London, or maybe now France, with Tim. She opened the door and smiled as she saw Stephanie. 

“Hey.”

“You look like death.”

Y/N shrugged, “Just tired I guess.”

“Tim not back yet?”

“No.” She moved to let Stephanie in. “He won’t be back till New Years. Apparently there was some work emergency in Paris or something.”

“Again?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s so stupid.”

She laughed, “You’re telling me.”

“Well, no offense, but if I was you, I would say something.”

“Say what? Say that I’m mad he has a life that doesn’t revolve around me? A life that I have no idea what it means? That I have no understanding of?”

“Exactly.”

“I can’t Stephanie. I would love to, but I can’t.”

“Why not?” Stephanie turned to look at Y/N, “It’s what I did.”

“And look where it got you!”

“Hey! I ended the relationship because I just didn’t need one and could tell that someone had caught his eye Miss. Y/N Y/L/N.”

She rolled her eyes, “Whatever Steph.”

Stephanie rested her hand on Y/N’s arm, “Y/N, I’ve known you for 3 years. I’ve known you long enough to know that him doing this is killing you. I know that you thrive through physical touch and people being there for you. Not over the phone there. But physically.”

“Okay! Fine! Say you’re right! Say I should confront Tim, then what?! He’ll come back and stay for a few weeks and then do this again! I’ve tried Stephanie! Honest! I’ve tried to tell him how I feel and every single time he comes back for a few weeks, maybe 3 months, and then he does it again! I’m sick and tired of it!”

“Then break up with him! Y/N, I have been trying to give you all these ways to help you realize that you need to leave Tim! No, I won’t deny that he loves you, but he won’t stop pushing you away until you can’t handle it anymore and snap! He did it to me!”

“But why hasn’t any other ex come out about it?!”

“Because we’re the only people he’s ever truly loved Y/N! That’s why he does it! He’d rather us never be in his life than for us him to risk loosing us! It took me almost a whole year to convince him to let us just be friends! Not Spoiler or Batgirl and Red Robin or just Robin, but Stephanie Brown and Tim Drake-Wayne!”

Y/N hated this. She knew Steph was right. She knew that it would be an unending cycle. She knew that they were the only people he ever loved. She knew she could never stop his fears.

“Steph...how do I do it? I-I’ve never broken up with someone before. Everyone has broken up with me. I’ve never done it myself.”

She shrugged, “I can’t tell you. I just did it when it came to him. But, it did take a while to convince myself that it was what was right for me.”

Y/N sat on the couch, “How can guys do this with such ease?”

Stephanie sat next to Y/N, “I can never tell you. I’ve wondered that for years myself.”

--------

Y/N fiddled with her phone. Finger constantly hovering over Tim’s name. She sat her phone down and looked around the room. All of her things had been packed away. Tim had been so insistent on her keeping her old place after she moved in. Just in case something happened. Neither of them would have thought it would be this. She sighed and grabbed her phone. Finally deciding to call him. Of course it had to be when she finally decided to do it, he called. She scrolled to answer.

“Tim.”

“Y/N, is everything okay?”

“Ye-” She stopped herself, “No, everything is not fine.”

“Why? What happened?”

“You did.”

“I did? What do you mean?”

“Tim...you won’t stop pushing me away. And I get it. It’s because you don’t want me to get hurt. Whatever. But the least you could have done is be here for holidays. I mean, it’s fucking Christmas. You own brother was upset by this one.”

She heard some shuffling and soon his voice came back. “Y/N, just give me a second. Work can wait. I can be home for Christmas.”

“No Tim. Just don’t. Deal with the work shit. I’m done with it. Just don’t come home for Christmas. You’re the last fucking person I wanna see now.”

His words were trembling, “Y/N please, I love you!”

She looked at her watch and saw it was past 12 am. Merry fucking Christmas, Tim. I could care less.”

She ended the call, tossed the phone onto the bed, laid down and acted like she didn’t just end the best 3 years of her life.

[itsnothesameasitwas]

hiii! im looking for good freinds to lovers fics bc i go through them sooooo fast :/ if you have any good ones pls send them !!!

hii… sorry this took me a whole day but here some Friends to Lovers fics… all the fics I’m recommending are Larry and please be careful with the tags before start reading and leave kudos :)

ABO

♥ Promise Me You Won't Run Away by thinlines @thinlinez | 23k | E

“Does kissing me stop you from having bad thoughts?” Harry asked, voice muffled into the collar of Louis’ dress shirt. Louis chuckled at this. He trailed a hand down Harry’s back, feeling the muscles tensing along with his touch.

“I guess you can say that. You’re a good distraction.”

“Then I will be the best distraction.” Harry answered, pulling back and watched Louis’ lips unashamedly.

“Come distract me, then.”

Or the Prince/ Knight AU in which Harry left Louis, but the omega never once gave up on them.

♥ i don't wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your neck by crybaby | 19k | E

Harry has been in love with Louis Tomlinson for four years, five months, and thirteen days.

Harry had fallen in love with Louis Tomlinson like how he’d seen in movies, and how he’d read in all the books he’d stolen from Gemma, headfirst and shameless. The only problem was, that in films and books, love was always either returned instantly, or else it took time for unrequited love to lose the first two letters, and since the first option was obviously not true, Harry decided he would wait for the second to become reality. And so Harry waited, three years, eight months, and four days, before his heart had been broken by a gentle rejection and a misplaced blowjob, before Louis and Gemma had packed up and gone to Manchester for university.

(Harry is a hopelessly romantic omega and Louis is his sister's best friend)

♥ picking up the pieces by falsegoodnight @falsegoodnight | 35k | E

“Zayn,” he murmurs, quietly but desperately.

Knowing what to do immediately, Zayn discreetly glances behind them to scan the room. “Walking over,” he says, confirming Louis’ worst fears.

“Maybe he’ll just pass by without stopping,” Louis says, glancing at the tables next to them as if hoping to find some other group of friends Harry had in high school that he could possibly want to talk to.

Eyebrow arched and lips pursed, Zayn has the nerve to look amused. “He’s looking directly at us.”

“Cause a diversion,” Louis rushes through his teeth, panic clawing up his throat. He can’t look Harry in the face again. Not yet, maybe not ever.

Zayn rolls his eyes and grabs his hand, interlocking their fingers. “It’s now or never, dear.”

- Louis returns to his hometown for the first time in ten years for his high school reunion and is faced with memories he’s long since tried to forget.

MPREG

♥ waiting on you by beckywritesthings @beckydoesthings | 21k | M

“Do you want to touch?” Harry asks, taking one of his hands off to tangle with Louis’. His open invitation finally drags Louis’ attention away from his baby and up to his face, blue eyes wobbly with emotions. It’s clear that he’s too taken to really form words, so Harry takes the initiative to press their laced hands against his shirt fabric, warmth from the skin radiating through.

Louis pushes his shirt up to his chest, taking Harry’s hand and pressing it to hold the fabric in place. His hands return to warm skin, palms even more scalding now that there’s nothing in between them. And then, as if that wasn’t enough for Harry’s heart to handle, Louis leans in, pressing his lips right above his belly button.

“Hi, baby,” he says, lips moving across his skin softly. “I’m your… I’m Louis.”

Or Harry is pregnant with a stranger’s baby and Louis doesn’t know. It’s a minor detail that Harry’s both living with Louis and in love with him. No big deal.

♥ you fit me better than my favourite sweater by brightbluelou | 13k | NR

Harry didn't mean to fall in love with his best friend, and he definitely didn't mean to get pregnant. Despite that, it’s probably still the best thing that’s ever happened to him. And after that, well. It just kept getting better.

or; the one where Harry and Louis are friends-with-benefits and Harry unexpectedly gets pregnant. Harry never wants to stop getting pregnant after that, but Louis thinks seven kids is probably enough.

AUS

♥ our matchmaker: the fucking universe by peachloulou | 8k | E |

On your eighteenth birthday, you end up with your soulmates' name tattooed on your body. The universe works in a fairly simple way, so Louis knows Harry is his soulmate. He's got Harry's name tattooed on his ass cheek like a tramp stamp, and Harry's got the name Lou written on the inside of his wrist. Except Harry doesn't know what Louis' soulmates name is because Louis is a romantic fool, and, ever since Harry woke up with the name Lou two years after Louis, he's been a quest to find his own soulmate. Meeting after meeting.

But maybe Louis' wrong, and he and Harry are nothing more than best friends.

Or the one where the universe is annoyingly fucking complicated.

♥ Love Isn't Always on Time by softfonds @softfonds | 45k | E

Falling in love with your best friend sounds like a good idea, until he comes back from a work trip engaged to another man. A Made of Honor AU.

♥ You Might Want to Marry My Husband by Rearviewdreamer | 37k | M

When Harry’s husband dies, he asks one thing of him; to find love and happiness again without him. It’s a request that Harry is happy to disregard, until he meets the one person who is impossible to ignore.

♥ Work of Magic by Bekita @justalarryblog | 34k | NR

"C’mon Liam, are you really going to use this against me now? You know the kind of humans his kind is! You know very well why we hunt them!" Louis said, done with the conversation and walking down the hall.

"No! We hunt people who don’t care about others, and neither Harry nor anyone in his family is like that!” Liam exasperated, following behind. “Louis, it's been two weeks, don’t you wanna know how Harry is? Has this hatred taken over so fast?" Liam inquired, knowing the hit a nerve.

"You know what, Liam? I'm not going to have this conversation with you." Louis said decisively, turning his back to his friend ready to go to his class.

But life is never fair, is it? When he turned around he was face to face with Harry in the middle of the hallway. The two stared at each other. Do I hate him? Louis wondered as he watched Harry's eyes fill with tears and seem to be begging for something. He preferred to ignore the pang in his chest and the urge to comfort the boy in front of him. He lowered his head and continued on his way.

Or the one that Louis is a WitchHunter and Harry is a Witch and they keep it as a secret, but they fall in love.

♥ practice in pencil, seal it in pen by loubellies @loubellies | 16k | E

AU where drunk Harry lifts Louis up after someone says “bottoms up”. Louis blushes at Harry’s antics, flustered that his best friend knew him more than he thought. Friends to lovers with a happy ending pleaseor Harry is in love with Louis but he doesn't know.

♥ plant new seeds by glitterhaz @cloudslou | 44k | TUA

Harry nods, not trusting his words. Slowly, he crawls under the covers of his bed, all too aware that Louis is doing the same, so close to him. Initially, he faces his desk, not looking at Louis, but after a few minutes he gets uncomfortable and turns over. Now, he’s only a foot from Louis’ face, and Louis has turned around too.

He doesn’t think Louis is asleep already, and it's confirmed when Louis’ eyes blink open sleepily. Harry looks at Louis, and Louis looks at him. Really looks.

“Can you see me?” Louis whispers.

Harry doesn’t understand the question, not really, but nods anyway. “Yeah, I see you,”

**Louis works at a lonely community garden, Harry is the upstanding fraternity man who makes it all feels a little less lonely. Over the course of a semester, that is.

♥ Skin New, Hands True, My Hands All Over You by PearlyDewdrops | 44k | E

Harry designs wedding cakes, so of course meeting blissfully happy couples every day is part of his job description. Unfortunately, it's caused Harry to perpetually hope each new day is the one he'll find love, too. That is, until Harry realises everything he's ever wanted is right under his nose in the shape of his best friend, Louis.

But predictably, Harry only comes to this epiphany when Louis starts seeing someone else. And this is not a John Hughes movie as far as Harry is aware. Everyone else is pretty sure, though.

Featuring a heavy dose of pining, copious amounts of alcohol, drunk dialing that results in a situation reminiscent of Rachel Green's, a ginger cat that likes to interrupt intimate moments, and a Halloween party that changes everything.

♥ if it kills me by you_explode | 110k | M

Harry and Louis have worked together in a difficult office environment for six years. They're best friends; Louis is the bright spot of all of Harry's days. But Louis is in love with Harry, and Harry's engaged to someone else. And that's only the beginning.

The Office AU. More or less follows the first five seasons. A lot of pining and misunderstanding the depth of feelings and rejection and angst, until there isn’t.

♥ In This Light by exhilarated | 99k | E

Harry is a wardrobe stylist who likes to live in the moment, and Louis is a popstar who looks dreamy in double breasted jackets. Harry never stood a chance.

♥ smell the sea, feel the sky by lightswoodmagic @lightwoodsmagic | 16k | E

They’d been planning this beach trip for months, stressing around work schedules and engagement parties, trying to find the perfect place to stay in and a time where there wouldn’t be families everywhere but the weather still perfect. Louis had spent what felt like hours researching and planning, dinners with Zayn and his boyfriend at their house that just ended in looking at places and sending them to Niall. He’d been looking forward to it for weeks, getting away from his job and his bullshit neighbours and the noise of the city.

It seemed ridiculous, really, that in all that time, Zayn hadn’t mentioned once that Harry was coming.

Or, Louis doesn't know how he's going to spend a week with the one person he wants and can't have. Harry proves him wrong.

♥ This Shifting Ground by zarah5 | 28k | M

University AU. In which Louis, law student, is the cheeky waiter to Harry’s dates. This is how it starts.

♥ No One Like You by myownspark | 19k | M

Dear Niall,I was glad to have the chance to talk with you again at the AHA conference. Your idea that the Musee D’Orsay Tomlinson painting is in fact not a self-portrait is an intriguing one, and I may have discovered something that will have a bearing on that theory.

Some background: as you may remember, I’ve been researching for a book I’m writing about Harry Styles. I’ve been in communication with Styles’ last living descendant, who is in possession of a trunk that her family believed to have belonged to Styles himself. It held some personal items she presumes to be his, including two unmounted paintings and a small collection of letters.

Upon spending the last few days in Provins studying these items, I believe there to be a connection between Tomlinson and Styles, and I would very much like your opinion.

Are you up for a trip to France?

Sincerely, Liam Payne

Where Liam and Niall are art historians discovering the truth about two nineteenth century painters on opposite sides of an artistic divide.

♥ across city skyline (and straight through my heart) by Halos_Boat @halohamilton | 76k | M

Louis Tomlinson meets Hollywood Heartthrob, Harry Styles when he walks into Louis' little bakery one day.

Immediately, Louis is charmed by him and Louis thinks Harry might feel the same way, given the fact that Harry has visited the bakery everyday since he'd come to town.

Until one day, Harry walks in with a boyfriend under his arm and a smile on his face.

The one where Louis owns a small bakery that's well known in his town and Harry Styles is an actor who comes to town to film a new movie. Louis is endeared by him, but that doesn’t seem to matter since Harry Styles is already taken.

♥ Tired Tired Sea by MediaWhore | 113k | M

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

♥ Here In The Afterglow by fondleeds | 88k | NR

“If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have many friends,” Louis whispers, the blossom of insecurity in his stomach unfurling and clawing its way into his throat.

Harry is silent for a long time, and then he speaks; a soft, slow uncurl that makes Louis’ stomach shake. “I’ll be your friend.”

- 1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

♥ Nicotine by KrisStylinson | 42k | E

"We're two different types of people, Liam. He likes sex and drugs, I like theater and tea. Trust me, we'd never date." Except they would, they do, and neither of them plans on letting go anytime soon.

"Just because you can get me hard doesn't mean I like you," Louis whispered. The fact was, he didn't like Harry right now, not at all. Not even a bit.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry murmured, his breath fanning over Louis' cock as he spoke. "You done telling me how much you hate me so I can suck you off?"

♥ California Sold by isthatyoularry | 123k | M

Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.

—————

if you feel like you need more, don’t hesitate to ask me :)

[dcbutinamrev]

Amrev as Classic Vines pt. 4

(After that post, we all could use a little laugh. Hope these help lighten up your mood or day! Enjoy!) 

***

King George III: *holding ice cream* Unicorns be like- 

*smashes ice cream at Seabury* 

Seabury: 

Laurens: *after he discovered Hamilton’s marriage* Screw you, I’m leaving! 

*slams door, pauses* 

Laurens: Oh...forgot my keys! Ha ha ha 

Hamilton: Laurens, how did you get your hair to look so good? I’m jealous... 

Laurens: ...It’s...natural... 

Hamilton: Wow... 

Jefferson: Sir, can I have a full tank of gas? 

Hamilton: That is $38 

Jefferson: That is absolutely ridiculous 

Hamilton: If you don’t like the price, go to Taco Bell. They’ll give you gas for $1.29 

Henry Laurens: This room always messy! You got clothes on the floor- 

Laurens: *grins and presses button* I do this all the time, I am so sorry 

Hamilton: *at Maria Reynolds* Ooh- 

Betsey: No! Very bad no! Go inside! 

Hamilton: 

Betsey: Now, stay in there and think about what you did wrong! 

Hamilton: But she was fine- 

Washington: *when the aides leave to go somewhere* Alright guys, have fun! I’ll be here! *laughs awkwardly* If you need me! By myself... 

Angelica: Did you see what Alexander did to his girlfriend at lunch?! 

Peggy: What?! 

Angelica: He got her a napkin! 

Peggy: No! 

Angelica: Yes! That is so goals! 

Laurens: Time for some patriatoic activities! 

Lafayette: Fireworks?! 

Laurens: No! Dumping tea! *splashes tea* 

Redcoat: *screams* 

Lafayette: Was that hot tea? 

Laurens: Maybe... 

Tilghman: What are you doing...? 

Meade: THE FLOORS ARE LAVA! 

Tilghman: You’ve been doing that since you were a kid... 

Meade: I’m not dead yet, am I?! 

Washington: Okay, senior trip! Where do you want to go? 

Hamilton: The Bahamas! 

Washington: I don’t know about that...

Laurens: Let’s go to hell! 

Washington: No! 

Betsey: What do you want for Christmas? 

Angelica H: All the worlds pugs! *pause* Pugs are for life 

Philip H: Hey, Dad, can we go get ice cream?

Hamilton: Uh...sorry buddy, we can’t 

Philip H: Okay...fine, I guess I’ll just tell Mom that you’re cheating on her 

Hamilton: *panics* Ice cream sounds great! Let’s go! 

Burr: Hey, could you pass the ranch? 

Hamilton: What do you say? 

Burr: Uh, what do you say? Give me that stupid ranch before I kill you. I swear it- 

 Hamilton: Oh, you look like you got a little something right there... 

Laurens: What is it? 

Hamilton: Pepper? 

Laurens: Wait...no..Ow! That’s my mustache! 

Hamilton: Babe... 

Laurens: *wakes up* Wassup? 

Hamilton: I love you~ 

Laurens: New phone, who this?

Hamilton: What...? 

Laurens: New phone, who this?! 

Tallmadge: Go pet the lion, he’s more scared of you than you are of it 

Arnold: I highly doubt that cause I am terrified right now 

*Burr says something* 

Hamilton: *tries not to laugh but fails* Fuck you Burr 

Washington: *at Hamilton*: Hey, son! How’s it going? How are those chores going? Don’t forget the flowers, you need to...WATER those! 

Hamilton: Gingers have no souls...seriously...just look at them 

Hamilton: Hey, me and John are going to go jump off a bridge! You wanna come? 

Lafayette: Oh my God, I am so unprepared for this *laughs* YES!

Johann Lavine: Hey, buddy, your grades are slipping... what’s up with that? 

Hamilton:  What’s up with you just getting out of prison? 

Harry Laurens: Not to rough... 

Laurens: *tossing Jemmy up and down* He’s alright! Aren’t you? 

Laurens: *tosses Jemmy up*

Jemmy: *hits head and falls* 

Laurens: 

Harry: 

Laurens: Call the doctor...now... 

Lafayette: *at Laurens* You look coat looks so comfortable! 

Hamilton: *at Laurens* You’re so sexy I set you as my homescreen! 

Kinloch: *at Laurens* You have the voice of an angel! 

Betsey: Can I get all tall frappichino? You want whipped cream? 

Hamilton: *deep voice* You bet your ass I want whipped cream 

Betsey: *slightly terrified* With whipped cream...

Hamilton: Whipped cream.. 

Hamilton: *in aide-de-camp office* Fuck. 

Washington: Yo! Watch your language! 

Hamilton: Oh, shit my bad. Fucking...dammn it... 

Hamilton: I had a dream about you last night... 

Laurens: Well, tell me about it~ 

Hamilton: No, I don’t remember! 

Laurens: Well, try to remember something 

Hamilton: You were in France, it was a Tuesday night, you were wearing a red shirt 

Laurens: 

Betsey: Babe, we did it! You’re going to be a father! 

Hamilton: Babe, I’m reading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, what do you want?! 

Hale: I’m Nate 

Tallmadge: And I’m Ben 

Both: And we’re too very supportive guys 

Tallmadge: I can’t lift this... 

Hale: I believe in you 

Tallmadge: Okay...

Hamilton: How many times do I have to tell you, you’re ten years old for crying out loud 

Philip H: I know Dad, I’m sorry...

Hamilton: Beer before liquor never been sicker. Okay? 

Theodosia Burr Jr: Dude, how’d your Dad make all the money? 

Philip H: Dad, do the voice... 

Hamilton: E. A. Sports 

General Green: Show me the police sketch 

*Laurens hands paper* 

General Green: What the hell is this? 

Laurens: Art *peace sign* Okay? 

Jefferson: Ladies...if you ever want to get a guy’s attention... just wear a bonnent! They are so sexy bring them back! 

Laurens: *does something reckless and stabs a Redcoat hot-like on the battlefiled*

Hamilton: That was majestic~

Laurens: Alexander, what big eyes you have

Hamilton: All the better ways to see you, my dear! 

Laurens: What big nose! 

Hamilton: 

Laurens: 

Hamilton: *laughs awkwardly* What about my nose? 

*When Hamilton returns from Yorktown*

Betsey: Oh, honey, I’m so happy you’re back! But can you surprise me in a cuter way, so I can film it and post it on Facebook 

Andre: Whatever happened to predictability? 

Arnold: What do you mean? 

Andre: I mean, the milkman, the paper boy, England teaming! 

King George III: Wait what? You’re not coming to my tea party?! Seabury, I made biscuts! 

Paul Revere: Hey, guys. If you really want to get the job, bring your own bean bag to the interview! That way you look casual 

John Quincy Adams: My Mom said I could be the best dancer in the world! 

Abigail Adams: Believe in yourself, baby!

Hamilton: You know when it’s sibling day and you’re like, “Hey! I love you.” 

James Hamilton Jr.: I love you too... 

Both: I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! 

Philip H: Dad...? 

Hamilton: Yes, sweetie? 

Philip H: What are you doing?

Hamilton: Just watching you sleep

Philip H: This is my dorm! 

Rachel Faucette: Alexander, it’s family dinner time. Get those elbows off the table. 

Hamilton: Fine 

Hamilton: * to James Hamilton, foot on table* Dad, can you pass me the potatoes 

Spada: *howls like a wolf* 

Meade: Hey, Harrison, what do you want for Christmas? 

Harrison: I don’t know! I got pizza and some turkey for Christmas, man! I’m so hungry!

[thewhitejournal]

Just One More Night

Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader Series

hello everyone! welcome to a new series im starting, this one was actually requested by @art-and-thoughts so shoutout to them. i’ll put their request below so you can read what it’s about, and i hope you all enjoy! :)

plot: Shortly after getting divorced, Hotch needs some sort of distraction from his work and personal life, he ends up meeting a younger girl and they start a casual relationship. He doesn’t want to know much about her than what’s necessary, so they just meet for ~sexy times~ and it works good for both of them for a while. The reader is graduating in communities and criminology; JJ finds out she’s going to have a baby, so she decides to call someone from outside to “coach” and replace her. That’s how the reader ends up at the BAU.

content warnings: smut, cursing, a bit commanding here and there, fingering, oral (male receiving)

-

Finals kicked your ass, that was a fact. You stepped out of the study hall and your tennis shoe met snow, covering the steps to the doors. You kicked yourself internally for not checking the weather, shivers already taking over your body. Snow went flying from the ground as you rushed to your car, a sheet of it falling off the roof when you slammed the door. The cold didn’t necessarily bother you, but not dressing appropriately for it did. Your car sputtered to life when you turned the key in the ignition. While you tried warming yourself up and while you waited for the defrost to kick in, you checked your phone.

The cold metal of the thing wasn’t exactly comforting, but your notifications were coming in at record speed. The group chat you and your roommate and the friends you’d met since last year made together kept bombarding you with who’s typing and who’s already said something. A little part of you dreaded opening it, knowing you were probably fully behind on whatever was happening.

They loved you, that’s for sure. But they always teased you for being ‘addicted to school’, and that you needed help for your addiction. You couldn’t help you were devoted to your future, the career at the FBI looking closer every day. It’s always been your goal. More specifically, you wanted to be a profiler. Ever since you started researching career paths and colleges in your senior year of high school, it stuck with you. You wanted it, and when you found something you wanted, you weren’t giving up until you had it. Hell, you’d just got done reviewing the subjects for next semester.

A sigh escaped your lips as you opened the chat. The rundown of it was that they wanted to get together for drinks to celebrate the end of the semester. You weren’t much of a party person, but you knew it wasn’t an option for you since they said they would be meeting there in half an hour. All you wanted to do was go back to the dorm and pass out, but you figured, why the hell not? You knew you deserved a break; one night couldn’t hurt.

After making the short drive to the dorms about half a mile away, you turned the car off and hurried inside. You came in with a bluster of cold air, kicking off your wet shoes next to the door. Your roommate was getting ready in the bathroom; her favorite ‘hype’ music was playing and you could smell the hairspray from the front door.

You didn’t have time to shower, and you figured it was fine since you had one this morning. So you fixed yourself up, doing a little more makeup and slipping into the outfit your friend picked out for you. You stepped into the bathroom next to her to fix your hair.

“(Y/N), going out without bitching? Are you feeling alright?” She teasingly put the back of her hand to your forehead as if to feel for a fever. You rolled your eyes, smacking her hand away. Both of you shared a laugh. Within minutes, you two were ready to go. You piled into your car, which was still a little warm, and started driving to the bar they picked out.

Once you were inside, you saw your other friends waiting for you, drinks already on their table. They waved you over as if you couldn’t see them; they were already tipsy. A smile grew on your lips as you and your friend walked over to them, happy to see your friends happy.

“To this shitty semester finally being over!” Your roommate toasted, a shot already in her hand. She was holding one out to you, and you took it, clinking your glass with the other girls before downing it. After sitting and talking and laughing and drinking for a while, you started surveying the bar and its patrons. Your curious gaze fell on a table of men, one of them significantly older than the rest. He had a glass of whiskey in front of him. His hands that donned a huge ring with an insignia that you couldn’t make out were gesturing in the air like he was telling a story.

The man standing next to him looked to be about your age, maybe older. He was a skinny little thing, listening intently to the older man’s story with a smile on his face. He looked like he was drinking some kind of sparkling water. The other guy was buff, wearing a tight, grey t-shirt. Dark brows on his forehead danced with emotion as the story went on. His smile was huge; he had some beautiful teeth for a guy. A beer dangled casually in his hand.

The fourth man was unlike the rest of them in his own way. He was wearing a brown pullover and dark jeans, his short black hair gelled and styled. His fingers twirled a whiskey glass on the table, and it was about empty. You noticed a tan line on his ring finger, but no ring. This was intriguing. A Rolex shined on his right wrist. He had a small smile on his face, adding to the story here and there and laughing. You couldn’t hear it, but you were sure it sounded lovely. His brown eyes crinkled when he smiled.

“(Y/N), what the hell are you staring- oh, I see. The skinny one?” Your roommate Rachel asked you, her gaze fixed on the men now, too. She looked at him like she was a lion and he was a gazelle, and it was dinner time. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“No, Rach. Don’t worry about it.” She gave you a knowing look like you weren’t getting away with it that easy. Her body turned towards you, and she leaned on the table. Her brows furrowed.

“Which one, then? Cause brown jacket’s been making eyes on you since you walked in.” She stated. You turned to face her, your eyes widening.

“Oh my god, can you keep your fucking voice down?”, you hissed under your breath. You tried looking over at them inconspicuously, to see if they’d heard, but you couldn’t tell. You felt the blush creeping up your neck and onto your cheeks. A sly smile made its way to her face. She giggled.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” She prodded your arm, laughing. You tried to play it cool, trying to make her calm down, but it wasn’t working. She burst into laughter, nearly doubling over so hard she about fell into the floor. God, she was drunk. You glanced over at the table, and you swore you saw him looking over, but only for a second.

Butterflies started roaring inside of you, in your stomach and even wandering lower. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before. The liquid courage started flowing through your veins, your heart pumping in your chest. You might’ve gone over and said, or ever did, something if you were a hundred percent sure he was interested. But you weren’t. Rachel eventually recovered from her laughing fit, leaning on you like you were the only thing holding her up. You steadied her as best as you could.

“Rachel, you should drink some water. You’re wasted.” You rubbed her arm, a concerned look on your face. She stared at you for a second, copying the look on your face.

“Fine,” she slurred, “You need the courage more than me anyway.” Your brows furrowed, giving her an inquisitive look. She giggled, covering her mouth when she let a snort out. “Because...look behind you…”, she whisper-said, falling on your other friend to her left. You felt your heart speed up in your chest, your body turning on your heel.

The man was sauntering over to you, his friends cheering him on behind him. He was laughing and shaking his head. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as he got closer. Fuck, he was tall. That smile on his lips made you blush, and the look in his eyes said more than words ever could.

When he finally reached you, he slipped an arm around your waist and leaned down to whisper in your ear. He smelled like pine and leather, and you felt your body tense up. There’s no way this was happening. The hottest guy in the bar, picking you out of the crowd? This never happened.

“Wanna get out of here?” He smelled like alcohol, but you were sure you did too. It took everything in you not to moan at the mere rasp of his voice. You hummed in an affirming tone as a response. This wasn’t like you, but you didn’t care. He was hot and the looks he gave you alone were enough to get you soaking wet. He took your hand eagerly, pulling you out the door and towards a black SUV. The plates on the front looked like government plates, but surely not. The car wasn’t your focus at the moment, anyway.

He shoved you against the passenger door, somehow rough and gentle at the same time, his arms on either side of your waist. It took the breath out of you, but you were breathless already so it was hard to tell just how much of an effect it had on you. His dark eyes looked like those of a hungry predator, tracing all over your face and body. He licked his lips, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.

“Do you wanna do this?”, he asked you in a low and sultry voice. You put your hands on the sides of his face, nodding. You leaned forward and closed the gap between the two of you, pressing your body to his, along with your lips. His hand pulled your waist to his body, the other hand getting lost in your hair. He moaned against your lips, and you felt yourself twitch in your underwear. God, he was so fucking hot.

“Good, get in.”, he commanded. You’d never been talked to like that. Your pussy twitched again, and you had to hold back a whimper. He opened the back door for you, and you crawled inside. The backseat was spacious, which was quite useful for what was about to happen. He settled himself in the seat and shut the door behind him, locking the car and pulling you into his lap, his back against the door.

He smashed his soft, pink lips onto yours, his tongue twirling with yours. His lips left yours and he started trailing rough kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone. You craned your neck back to give him more room, a little moan slipping from your lips. “Oh, you like that, baby?”, he asked you against your skin, his fingers slowly pulling down the straps of your dress onto your shoulders.

“Wait…”, you breathed out, and he pulled away. He asked if he’d done something wrong, an apologetic look in his eyes. He’s hot and respectful? Fuck. “No, I… I just want to know your name.” He chuckled deeply.

“Aaron. What’s yours, honey?” God, that voice was the death of you. You were surprised he couldn’t feel how wet you were through his jeans.

“(Y/N).” A smile grew on your lips, as did on his.

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N).”, he whispered, leaning into you again and kissing you. You slid your heels off and heard them clatter on the floor, kissing him back, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing yourself against him. Your legs fell over his waist, straddling him. He hummed contently against you, his huge hands resting on your waist.

Instinctively, you moved your hips against his jeans, a moan slipping through your lips. His hands fell to your thighs, hastily moving them under your dress to play with the hem of your panties. You whimpered, and he pulled away, looking you in the eyes.

“You want these off, (Y/N)?”, he purred in your ear.

“Fuck, yes, Aaron, please…” You were a mess, but you didn’t care. You just wanted him so bad, and you didn’t even know him. His fingers tugged at them, pulling them down your thigh and shoving them in his pocket, a sly smile on his face.

“Come here, baby.” You obliged, sliding your hands under his shirt as you kissed him roughly. He bit your lip, a yelp coming from you and a deep chuckle from him. The two of you parted for only a second so that his jacket and shirt could come off. You admired his skin in the faint light from a nearby streetlight. Something that stood out to you was all the scars on his stomach. You leaned down and kissed every single one of them, undoing his belt in the process. You could feel how hard he was through his jeans. He moaned, his head hitting the window. “Fuck, you’re so hot…” His voice sounded so attractive when he was hot and bothered.

His hands pulled you suddenly back into his lap, hands resting on your bare ass. “Your turn first.” His thumb had no problem finding your pulsing clit, and he started rubbing circles just the way you liked. You gasped, moaning and burying your face in his neck. He moaned too, pushing a finger inside you and pumping back and forth. “You’re so wet for me, (Y/N).” You couldn’t speak; the power he held over you was insane. He kissed your neck so roughly you knew it would leave bruises that you’d have to cover up. Good thing it was scarf season.

He added another finger, and you started riding him; you were a moaning and sloppy mess. You put your hands on his strong shoulders to steady yourself, and he moved his fingers faster. The knot in your stomach tightened, and you could hardly breathe. Your eyes rolled back into your head and all you could feel was his hot chest against you and his long fingers inside you as you rode out your orgasm on them. He pulled them out, and you instantly missed the feeling. You whined at the empty feeling.

“You want to clean them off or should I?” You could barely focus on his words, your pussy still pulsing.

“I want you to taste me.”, you breathed out. Without hesitation, he licked his fingers clean, amber eyes rolling into his skull and a guttural moan coming from deep inside him. You got turned on again just from that vision itself. He pulled your dress off of you and threw it on top of your panties on the floor. He hungrily stared at your chest, sucking on your nipple and playing with the other. Your hips bucked against the leather of the seat, a groan slipping from the both of you.

“Lie down.” You did as you were told, lying down on your back. He unzipped his jeans and kicked them off, but not before pulling a condom out of the back pocket. His dick was pushing against the thin fabric of his boxers. Fuck, he’s huge. Of course, he is. Going against orders, you sat up and looked up at him, taking him into your mouth. He groaned, pulling your hair back away from your face. “(Y/N), holy shit…” He thrust into your mouth, but you didn’t mind it. Your hands stroked his dick for what your mouth couldn’t take.

You pulled away, knowing he was ready. His light brown eyes from inside the bar were now pitch black, his chest heaving and sweat beading on his forehead. You put your hand behind his head and pressed your lips into his, and he moaned against you. You could feel his dick pressing onto the inside of your thigh, and your hips naturally started riding it. He wasn’t inside you yet, just slipping against you. Your nails dug into his back, the feeling too much to take. His hands held your waist so tight you think he might leave bruises, but that didn’t matter.

Hurriedly, he pulled the condom on his dick and made sure you were ready and willing before he started fucking you. Slowly at first, he thrust what felt like halfway inside you. He filled you up so nicely, like the two of you were made for each other. “Fuck, Aaron, just like that…”, you breathed out into his ear, moaning and rocking on top of him. He helped you stay steady as you took all of his dick, and he started speeding up. You held onto him like he was your last breath, and his wandering hand found your clit again, rubbing those familiar circles on it. He started sucking on your neck again, and you could feel him twitching inside you. You came not a second later.

You rode it out, seeing stars. He was breathing heavily, kissing your lips as softly as he did before you started. You kissed him back with what little energy you had left. “That was…”, he whispered, looking into your eyes. “Amazing. You’re amazing.”, he finished his thought.

“Wanna do this again sometime?”, you asked him shyly. He smirked at you. “Sorry, that was-“

“I do, (Y/N). Get dressed, I’ll drive you home.” You smiled at him, and he returned one. You didn’t worry about your phone or purse; one of your friends would grab them. He was dressed quickly and got out of the backseat, closing the door behind him and walking around the front of the car to get in the driver’s seat. You pulled your dress back on, along with your shoes.

The lack of Aaron’s body heat made you realize how cold it was this late into the night. You crossed your arms over your body, trying to make yourself as warm as possible. He motioned for you to get in the front seat, so you did, getting out of the car. The parking lot was almost empty, and it was snowing. You opened the passenger door, climbing in.

“Are you cold?”, he asked. He was warming the car up, turning dials and making sure it was getting defrosted. Not that it needed to do much work with all the heat you two made. You looked over at him; the caring look returned in his eyes. He looked handsome in the dim light of the center console. You nodded, and he pulled his jacket off and handed it to you. You gladly took it, his smell wafting around you when you slid it on. You told him where your dorms were, and he didn’t seem to mind that you were still in university.

The two of you drove in comfortable silence, the white flakes whizzing past the windows as he drove. Thoughts flooded your head about what had just happened, and how you felt about him. You couldn’t fall for him, but you had a feeling you could at some point if you weren’t careful. Unbeknownst to you, Aaron was having the same thoughts.

He parked outside your building, and he gave you his number and you gave him yours. You started taking the jacket off, and he stopped you. “Keep it. It’s cold out there.” You gave him a small smile and thanked him, and he pressed one last kiss to your lips before you got out of the car. He made sure you got inside the building before driving off. You watched the black SUV pull off in the white flurries outside. The plates caught your eye again; those were US government plates, for sure.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

[nnightskiess]

santana lopez imagine

r e q u e s t: Can you do a reader x Santana lopez? Where reader and Santana are best friends but reader has been in love with santana for a long time and becomes distant and santana wants to know why and finally knows and just fluff. Thank you

✫彡

Y/N zoned out the conversation Quinn, Brittany and Santana were having and instead fully focused on the smile on Santana’s face. She’d been friends with the girl long enough to know that this smile meant that she felt at ease. 

The corners of Y/N’s mouth curled into a smile at the sight of it as she kept staring at her best friend. Her cheeks flushed when Santana turned her head, just to check up on Y/N who had been a bit quiet. She’d caught the girl staring. Santana’s expression softened a bit before she joined the conversation again.

It had been like this a lot the past few weeks— Y/N zoning out just to stare and admire Santana, only for her to get caught by the latter. However, Santana didn’t seem to mind or notice and thus Y/N’s crush on the girl grew larger every day. 

What had been the turning point? The mindless random kisses they used to share now and then? Which in Santana’s defence were just so that they kept practicing until a cute boy came along. The way Santana only let Y/N see the real her? How Santana carried herself? Or how she could light up Y/N’s world by just a smile or a witty comment? Well, Y/N couldn’t quite put a finger on it. But there was so much about Santana that she adored and liked that it wouldn’t be fair to her to just pick one. 

Her mouth set in a hard line. No. She couldn’t fall in love with Santana. It wouldn’t end well. What if Santana got weirded out by it and decided that it would be too awkward to stay friends? Y/N couldn’t bear to lose the girl. 

“You okay?”

Quinn and Brittany continued their conversation while Santana’s attention went to the girl next to her. Y/N nodded softly, sending her a tight-lipped smile. 

“Here,” Santana handed her the rest of her granola bar in an attempt to cheer her up. Because even though Y/N denied something was wrong, she could see right through her best friend. “And you better eat it because I don’t usually share my food.” 

Brittany heard the two and shoved her lunchbox towards Y/N. It was filled with the Lucky Charms marshmellows. “It took me four boxes to fill it like this but eating this usually makes me happy so I hope it works for you too.” 

“Are you trying to cheer her up or give her diabetes?” Quinn snorted and shook her head in amusement.

“Thanks, Britt, but i'm fine.”

“Suit yourself.” Brittany shrugged, held the lunchbox up to her chest and grabbed a handful. Quinn grimaced at the thought of having to eat that much sweetness in one bite. 

Santana hadn’t stopped staring at Y/N during the conversation, her brows knit together when she realised something was up. She scooted her chair closer to the girl, grabbed the sleeve of her Cheerios jacket and rested her head softly against the girl’s shoulder. Y/N smiled sheepishly while Santana’s frown never disappeared, wondering what kept her best friend so silent, the soft encounter between the two not going unnoticed by Brittany.

✫彡

Santana strutted around the school’s hallway, head held high. She looked fierce, confident and oh so ethereal— if you asked Y/N. The small smirk on her face turned to a smile when she locked eyes with her best friend, Y/N, who was already staring at her from her spot at her locker. 

“How’s the only person I tolerate in this school doing?” She challengingly raised an eyebrow as she came to a stop next to the girl. 

Y/N stared into her eyes for a second, seeing them twinkle. The two girls lingered for a moment in a comfortable silence until the sound of a locker slamming shut cut the girl back to reality. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

Santana’s smile turned into frown, seeing how quiet Y/N seemed.

“Hm? Sorry, yeah...”

The Latina squeezed her eyes in suspicion but decided to let it go, knowing how Y/N worked. If she tried to pry and get it out of her, Y/N would only shut her out even more. She’d come to her when she wanted to or when she was ready. 

“Okay, hear me out— I know you’re insecure about singing high notes but I’ve found the perfect song for us to sing for next week’s assignment.” 

Y/N bit her lip and closed her locker, “I kind of already agreed to sing with Rory...”

“Wait, what? Why?” Santana’s face immediately scrunched up. “And roll back a minute— out of all of them you pick that leprechaun? Let me guess, you’re going to sing his national anthem while he’s Irish dancing in the background, clad in all green while throwing lucky charms out of his pot of gold?”

“Santana...”

The brunette sighed, letting it go, not being able to resist the pleading look on Y/N’s face. 

“He asked me first and he was so shy about it, it was adorable. And he’s new and doesn’t really know anyone yet so it was hard to turn him away... and um, he told me we’d discuss the song over dinner at Breadstix so how could I turn that away?”

“So he asked you out on a date?”

“N-No-”

Santana rolled her eyes at the girl’s obliviousness, “And by the way,” She raised her hand, “Since when do I have to ask you to partner up? We always do everything together?”

Y/N shrugged, “I’m sorry, San. A promise is a promise. But I think you need to start looking for another partner unless you want to end up with Mr. Schue.” 

Santana's jaw clenched in irritation as Y/N walked off without another word. 

✫彡

Santana worry and confusion only grew when Y/N walked passed her and sat down next to Rachel, completely ignoring her usual seat next to Santana. Rory walked into the room. She immediately sent the boy a glare before he sat down next to Y/N. He slightly glanced over his shoulder and as he felt Santana’s eyes on him, he slowly put his arm around Y/N— feeling bold. The girl barely scooted away from him, trying not to hurt his feelings, but it was enough for Santana to notice her discomfort. 

Oh, hell no. 

✫彡

“Hey, St. Paddy!” Santana’s loud voice rang through the courtyard, making Rory stop in his tracks. 

“Oh, boy, here we go.” He slowly mumbled to himself. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He turned around and saw how furious she was by the frown on her face and the fire in her eyes. 

“What do you mean, Santana?”

She gave him a dirty look, “Oh, cut the crap, cardigan... You know what I’m talking about.”

“It’s... Flanagan...”

“Whatever-” She rolled her eyes. “Listen closely and don’t open your mouth before i’m done talking, okay?” 

Rory nodded hesitantly, not sure if this already counted.

“You’ve got a crush on Y/N. I have eyes. I’m not stupid. But I get it, she’s gorgeous, caring, softhearted and is the best thing in this world since sliced bread. But what she’ll never be, is yours.” She pointed a finger at his chest. “So don’t try and act all adorable while sneakily taking her on a date... because if we’re being honest, she probably just said yes because she pitied you after realising that if she said no, you would have no one to sing with. And since you were oblivious to all of that, I think you also missed the fact that she isn’t into you at all.”

He rose his eyebrows in shock as Santana let her mind run rampant, not sparing his feelings. Rory awkwardly held onto the straps of his backpack.

“Here’s what’s going to happen— first, you’re going to call Breadstix and cancel your reservations...then you’re going to call Y/N and tell her you changed your mind about being duet partners.” Santana gave him a mock smile and was about to walk away. “Oh— and if you ever put your disgusting arm around her again, I’ll kick your ass so hard it will send you flying back to Ireland in just a few seconds. Got it?”

Rory nodded again and watched Santana walk away with a pleased smirk on her face.

✫彡

Santana tapped the girl on her shoulder and whispered, “Wanna go to Breadstix tonight? I heard they have one free table for tomorrow night.” 

Y/N turned around in her seat, sending a glare her way before focusing back on the class. Santana looked to Brittany, taken back and in confusion, but she just shrugged.

✫彡

“I little birdie told me you need a new duet partner.” Santana walked up to Y/N’s locker, hands in the pockets of her comfy Cheerios jacket.

The smile on her face disappeared when Y/N slammed her locker shut and turned to her with her brows furrowed.

“Jeez, who put nails in your shoes today?”

“I know it was you.”

Santana shrugged, “So? I spared you the painful situation where you had to reject him... plus, now you get to sing with me. So change that frown into one of your pretty smiles because I know just the perfect song for us to sing.” She perked up but her cheerful expression vanished once again when Y/N walked away from her. She pursed her lips and frowned in confusion as she watched the girl hurry out of the school.

✫彡

Things had been different since that afternoon. The two barely interacted or even looked at each other anymore, which was all mainly Y/N’s fault. It had even caught the attention of the other Glee club members since Y/N tried to ignore Santana as if she was some disease she wanted to steer clear of. It was out of character for the both of them not to be together.

“Everything okay with you and San?” Brittany leaned over so that no one else could hear. 

Y/N gave her a small smile, as if nothing was wrong, “Oh- yeah, yes, don’t worry.”

“You sure?”

Y/N hummed in return, turning to face Mr. Schue but Brittany scooted even closer before mumbling, “I think you should just tell her how you feel.”

Her head shot to the side, eyes wide as saucers. Brittany didn’t seem to realise how panicked her statement had made the girl feel. Y/N was still trying to stay cool when Mr. Schue called her name.

“Rory and Y/N, would you two like to perform your duet today?”

The two shared a quick glance before Y/N opened her mouth,

“Oh, w-we’re not partners anymore. Can Tina and I perform instead?” 

Santana cocked her head to the side at that new information, seeing Tina nod. They had apparently already planned this out.

“But Tina’s partnered up with Brittany?”

“Yeah, I know, but she doesn’t mind singing twice.”

Mr. Schue rose his eyebrows in confusion. “But we’re with an even number of members so how come you have no partner?”

Rory’s arm slowly went up, “Santana has no partner either.”

“Shut up, leprechaun.”

“I thought that was what you wanted?” Rory mumbled at her but slowly turned back around at the look Santana shot him.

Mr. Schue seemed a bit confused to why the two best friends didn’t seem to want to pair up together. However, that gave him all the more reasons to make them partner up. Maybe whatever was going on between the two would be taken care of that way.

“Santana, Y/N— you’ll be up next week. Alright?”

The two girls shared a glance before Y/N focused back on what Mr. Schue was saying.

✫彡

“Y/N/N, can we meet up after practice? We really need to plan how we want to sing the song if we want to win. You still okay with singing Aguilera?” 

Y/N nodded absentmindedly, not really paying any attention to Santana. Because she knew that if she did, she wouldn’t be able to stop looking at the girl. Besides, the love in her eyes would probably not be missed by Santana and she obviously didn’t want her to know. 

“Hey?”

“Hm?” Y/N looked up, trying her best to not look into her eyes for too long. But the worry and hurt in them broke Y/N’s act.

“I’m worried about you.” Santana placed her hand on top of Y/N’s, squeezing it. 

“Don’t be.” Y/N mumbled out softly, trying to brush things under the carpet.

“Did I do something wrong? Was it the thing with Rory? Or back when-”

“No.” She shook her head, “Don’t worry, okay? You could never do something wrong in my eyes.”

Santana smiled at that.

“Great. So if I’m not the problem, then please tell me why you’ve been so distant with me lately?”

Y/N panicked slightly and racked her brain for anything. “Just... stuff.” She could slap herself for that weak excuse.

“Stuff?” Santana gave her a look, not buying it. “What stuff? Stuff at school? At home? Personal stuff?”

Y/N nodded softly at the last one and looked at her lap. 

“Want to talk to me about it?” Santana’s voice was as soft as a feather and barely even audible.

Y/N didn’t look up from her lap and shook her head. 

“That’s okay.” Santana scooted closer to her best friend, “Then I’m just going to have to-” But when she was about to wrap her arms around Y/N to comfort her, the girl quickly pushed her away, grabbed her stuff and walked out leaving Santana clueless to what she had done wrong.

✫彡

“I’m telling you, Britt, she ran away like I was some bee circling around her.”

Brittany smiled sympathetically. She could see it really affected Santana. 

“Oh, God.” She groaned and held the bridge of her nose. “She’s been like that every time I get close to her, what if it makes her uncomfortable? See?! I should just keep it all to myself, it’s better that way. I haven’t even told her anything yet and she’s already distancing herself from me.”

Brittany sighed loudly, “There you go again— putting two and two together and making six. You worry too much.”

Santana crossed her arms and let out a breathy, sarcastic chuckle, “I worry too much? She’s my best friend— I can’t lose her.”

Brittany’s smile softened, “I know. But you won’t. Sometimes you just have to take the leap and hope that a flying unicorn will scoop you up out of the sky. And I hope Y/N will jump onto its back as well... unless she’s scared of horses...”

Santana smiled at Brittany’s explanation,

“Thanks, Britt.”

✫彡

Santana was talking with Brittany when Y/N walked passed the two, basically making a b-line to the exit of the football fields. 

“Okay, this has got to stop.”

Santana rushed after her, Brittany following suit— afraid Santana was going to lose her rag.

“Y/N, stop-” Santana grabbed her wrist, making the girl turn around. “-and fucking explain to me what’s going on? I’m sick of you acting like this.” She waved her hands around.

Y/N pulled her hand back and squinted her eyes as she looked at Santana before walking off again.

“Oh, no no no. Not so fast, lady.” When Santana grabbed her shoulder, Y/N turned around and pushed her off. 

Santana widened her eyes at seeing Y/N so on the fence.

“Why can’t you just leave me be? I’ve been trying so hard to ignore you and ignore everything I’ve been cropping up inside but you just keep...on...bugging me!” 

Normally, Santana would fire back some witty and fiery reply but she was at a loss for words. She’d never seen Y/N like this. 

“I-I’m s-sorry. I’m so-” Y/N immediately excused herself and groaned before kicking the trashcan next to the bleachers, startling both Brittany and Santana.

Santana glanced at Brittany, silently asking her to give them a moment. The blonde nodded and walked back to the other Cheerios. 

Santana wasn’t sure what to do or say. She wanted to hug Y/N and hold her hand to comfort her, but would she be pushed away again if she did? 

“I haven’t been a good friend to you lately...” Y/N started and looked up into her eyes. 

“You can’t always be amazing at everything.” Santana complimented her and smirked softly, trying to lighten the mood. But her face turned serious again when Y/N didn’t seem to appreciate the effort. 

“But it’s okay. Let’s acknowledge it for a few seconds and then move on and be like we used to be.” Santana took a measured step closer to the girl.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” The brunette immediately shot back, feeling angry and confused once again. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself and softly looked up into Santana’s eyes, which were filled with hurt and worry.

“I-”

She closed her mouth again, how was she supposed to say that she’d been in love with Santana for weeks now?

“I’ve been really respectful towards this all and I’ve given you time to come to me, but this time we’re not going to walk away before I know what’s up. So, tell me.”

Even while Santana glared at her, Y/N could still feel her insides turn to jelly. Y/N looked at the crinkle between her eyebrows and how she slightly pouted her lips together. Her stare lingered a little on her lips, before she quickly looked back into Santana’s eyes. But upon looking, she noticed that Santana’s gaze was fixated on her own lips. 

“T-Tell me now...” Santana cleared her throat and tried to raise her voice again, but it was clear that her mind was elsewhere. She tried to look mad, but Y/N noticed how hard it was for Santana to keep up the tough act. 

Their stare lingered for a moment before Y/N turned her back to Santana to walk back into the school. But before she could take a step, Santana’s voice interrupted her.

“I love you.”

Y/N froze.

“And you ignoring me hurts me so damn much. So, please, don’t. I don’t know what I did wrong but I’d really like to know.” 

It took Y/N a moment to gain the courage to turn back around but when she did, she saw that Santana was on the verge of tears.

“I hope this won’t make you ignore me even more.” She quickly glanced around the area before wiping away a tear.

“Please say something.”

“Santana...”

She immediately took a few steps back when Y/N approached her.

“No, no- it’s fine-” She waved her off. Y/N closed her eyes, ridding herself of any doubts and insecurities. She opened them again and wasted no time in cupping the girl’s cheeks to place a soft, chaste kiss on her lips. 

The two parted, Santana’s face filled with confusion. It wasn’t like they had never kissed before, so what exactly did this kiss mean? Was this just out of pity? 

Y/N left her no time to ponder when she attached her lips against Santana’s once more. She put much more pressure into this one, and when Y/N opened her mouth, Santana swore she could feel her heart explode. She quickly grabbed onto Y/N’s neck and kissed back, not wanting to let it go unanswered. 

They slowly let go of each other after a few seconds. 

“I know I asked you to say something but this was much better.” She blinked her eyes a few times as Y/N let out a breathy chuckle,

“I know, right?”

“Does that...Does that mean-”

“Damn, you don’t catch on very fast, do you?”

Santana rolled her eyes but not without grinning like an idiot. She presented her pinky to Y/N, the other girl locking hers around it as they kept looking at each other, beaming from ear to ear. 

✫彡

The band started playing the first tunes of the song on their trumpets. Everyone’s eyes widened and some of the girls cheered at the run Y/N started the song off with. Santana looked at her with the widest smile on her face before starting to dance the little choreography they had come up with it. She was more than proud of Y/N shoving her insecurities to the side and still singing this song. Her voice was perfect for this song, which was mainly why Santana had picked it out, she wanted the girl to shine more. 

“I don’t know what you did, boy, but you had it.” 

The two faced each other and sang together. Santana smirked while singing.

"That every time I see you everything starts making sense, yeah.”

Everyone clapped when they started singing the chorus. Santana turned towards Y/N at her part, making her take steps back by slightly pushing the girl’s shoulder.

It was clear to everyone that whatever had been happening before, had been solved now. Santana and Y/N seemed at ease around each other again. They acted just like before. Well... not exactly the same, but most of them brushed it off.

Mr. Schue mentally applauded himself for putting the two together. It had clearly resolved their problems. But Brittany knew the real reason of why they had made up. She grinned, enjoying the performance, but also because she was the only one who knew their little secret. It was about time. She had tried to silently drop hints to them that they both liked each other here and there for the longest time. When Santana had returned that afternoon with the biggest smile on her face, Brittany knew enough. 

Santana and Y/N grinned their hearts out at each other after ending the song and locked their pinkies behind their backs.

[lovemeleo]

The Instagram Aftermath

I had a couple asks pertaining to the aftermath of Remus’s IG post as well as the proposal, so I combined them. I hope that’s okay! The SW world belongs to the lovely @lumosinlove​.

If you haven’t already read the rest of the Asher series, here are the links:

Coops become Dads

Coops become Dads Pt. 2

Dumo meets Asher

Asher’s First Dumo Dinner

Asher’s First Dumo Dinner Pt. 2

Cuddles with Cap

________________________________________

It was currently eight hours after the Instagram post that “broke the internet.”

Remus thought that was a bit dramatic, but that’s what Marlene kept calling it. The picture itself had over a million likes and apparently they had trended on Twitter.

“I can’t believe you just dropped that bomb on the internet and expected it to just be overlooked. You posted your boyfriend.. Holding a baby. Wearing an engagement ring. And on top of that, you called him daddy.” Marlene said with a laugh as she set up the set.

Remus groaned, leaning into his hands, “I wasn’t calling him daddy. I said Asher snored like his daddy. This is ridiculous.” He muttered.

They were now in one of the media rooms of the rink about to record a video for the Lions’ youtube channel, because they apparently had to address it.

Shaking his head, Sirius leaned back in his chair with a laugh, “Mon loup, you’re so cute when you’re oblivious to social media.” He teased, as Remus carefully picked Asher up from his carrier.

He let out a soft whine, tiny fists coming to rub at his eyes. Remus quickly slipped a pacifier in between his small lips and he curled into his dad’s chest. 

Marlene smiled fondly at the little family, sitting in her chair behind the camera, “Alright, boys, you ready?” She asked. They both nodded and then the video started.

It was a simple set. Just the three of them on the couch and the plain background.

“Well good afternoon, boys.” She started.

Remus smiled sheepishly, “Good afternoon, Marls.” 

She laughed, “Y’all caused quite a ruckus on social media this morning, didn’t you?”

Shaking his head, Sirius pointed at his fiancé, “He did it. I had no idea of what was happening until I woke up!” He insisted, raising an eyebrow at Remus.

Remus groaned, leaning his head back on the couch, “I wasn’t thinking. I had just woken up and they just looked so cute.” He murmured, looking down at the small face sleeping in his arms. How could he not post that cute face?

“So this wasn’t on purpose?” Marlene asked from behind the camera, and they both were shaking their heads.

Sirius smiled softly, “No, we had a plan to break the news on the Lions’ Instagram in a week or so. A little family picture. But apparently the lack of sleep got to Loops here, and his poor little sleep-deprived mind decided this was a better time to break all of our big news.”

“Do you wanna introduce the little elephant in the room here?” Marlene asked, the camera zooming at the bundle in Remus’s arm.

Remus turned on the couch, so the camera could see Asher’s face, “This is Asher Pascal Lupin. He is 2.5 months old today.” He proclaimed happily, tracing a gentle finger down the small nose. Asher huffed softly, small fingers coming to grab his finger.

“And you guys adopted him, is that correct?” 

Sirius nodded, reaching forward to fix Asher’s pacifier in his mouth, “Yes, we adopted him from an amazing woman named Rachel. She’s great, we still keep in contact with her. We want her to be in his life because she’s the reason that our family grew. We’re incredibly lucky.”

Marlene couldn’t help the smile as she watched the little family, “That’s great, you know I’m incredibly happy for you. And you’re getting married as well, which is also great!”

Reaching across the couch with his free hand, Remus intertwined his hand with Sirius’s, “Yeah.. that was also a bit of surprise. For me at least..”

Two weeks earlier…

Sirius walked into the living room, letting out a heavy sigh as he flopped onto the couch next to Remus, “He’s asleep. A couple minutes in the rocking chair seemed to knock him right out.” He mumbled, nuzzling into his boyfriend’s side.

Humming softly, Remus pulled Sirius close, “Thanks for getting him down, baby. I appreciate you a lot.” He murmured, wrapping his arms around the taller boy’s waist. He loved moments like this, where they could just be together. These comfortable silences were something he treasured.

“Love you, mon loup.” Sirius whispered, his head resting over Remus’s heart so he could listen to the steady pounding.

Remus pressed a kiss to the top of his head, “And I love you, baby. Forever.” He answered, fingers running through black waves. 

The comfortable silence continued before all of a sudden, Sirius was looking at him with a strange look.

Remus raised an eyebrow, “What’s up, babe?” He asked, his hand resting on the back of Sirius’s neck.

“Marry me.”

He felt his jaw drop, “W-Wait what?” 

Then Sirius was up, running up the stairs. Remus sat up quickly, his heart pounding out of his chest, “Where are you going? What the fuck?”

Remus could hear him rustling around his room before he was running back down the stairs, holding a small box. 

“W-What? Sirius, what the fuck.” Remus muttered as the other man kneeled down in front of him on the floor. 

Sirius opened the small box, showing the ring. It was simple, but beautiful. “Fuck, Re, this wasn’t supposed to be like this. I had a plan. But we never really followed plans, did we? I just.. I just wanna spend the rest of my life with you. You’re my everything, you and our son. Please, marry me.” He murmured, his voice cracking.

Reaching a gentle hand out, Remus cupped his chin, “Baby, there is no situation where I would ever say no to you. I love you so much, of course I want to marry you.” Remus pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

Sirius carefully pulled out the ring, slipping it onto Remus’s finger, “Now you’re stuck with me.”

Back to the video…

Marlene sniffled, wiping at her eyes, “Well. That was cute as hell.” She said with a chuckle.

They both smiled, looking at each other before they looked at the camera. “Well, we are pretty cute.” Remus said with a grin. 

Sirius pressed a kiss to the back of Remus’s hand before placing his arm behind him to pull him close. Marlene smiled softly, “Well boys, I think that clears everything up. You wanna sign us off?”

“I’m Sirius Black.”

“I’m Remus Lupin, and this is Asher. And this was Gryffindor Lion’s Live!”

[jouretnuit-nightandday]

gen requests!! if it interests you, i would love something with dot being taken care of by the others, or them all letting toni know how she matters /to them/ in their own ways, or something with an unlikely combination of the girls (a dynamic you wish we’d seen more of) stirring shit and being friends!! i know that was a bunch, but i just figured i‘d give you a few and see if any of them resonated. thank u!! <33

Thank you! I loved all of them, but went with Dot being taken care of, cause our girl sure needs it. 

-------

As soon as she wakes up, Dot can tell something’s wrong. For one, everyone else is already awake and gone, even Fatin, even Toni, which has never happened, not even once, ever since they got stranded on the island. She opens her eyes, and she’s alone, in the shelter she had them rebuild a few weeks ago. Someone has taken care to drape one of Fatin’s sweaters - the leopard skin one, which is, incidentally, Dot’s favorite - on her chest like a blanket, and the same person - but who? - has also placed one of the pink visors atop Dot’s head, to protect her from the light of the rising sun peeking through the interstices of their roof. She rises up on her elbows, confused, almost alarmed by the silence - but then she looks through the shelter’s opening, and sees that the other girls are all sitting quietly around the campfire, the one they built sixty feet or so away from the shelter after a strong gust of wind almost set fire to the whole camp.

Dot yawns, and gets up, and shuffles out of the shelter, and comes face to face with the strangest thing. A rough plank of wood, on top of which, artistically arranged, she finds one of the bottles they use to keep drinkable water, a few handfuls of red berries in a small cup made out of braided leaves, and five strings of smoked goat meat - big ones, Dot notices, the kind they usually reserve for dinner, when they’re starving after a full day of hard work. And, weirdest of all, there’s a little bouquet of yellow flowers, stuck in an empty can of Diet Coke. Dot briefly wonders if the flowers are edible, but comes to the conclusion that whoever left this for her wanted to add a touch of beauty to... what is this supposed to be, actually? A breakfast tray?  

“What in the world is going on,” Dot murmurs to herself, squinting at the rest of the girls, far away, as if she’ll get some answers just from looking at them. Oh well, food is food. She gobbles down the berries, drinks the water, chews on the sticks of meat, and places the plank back next to the shelter, with the flowers untouched, before she walks up to the fire.

The waking-up all alone, she could chalk up to coincidence. The aesthetic breakfast platter, to Shelby or Martha wanting to test out their decoration skills in the wilderness. But Dot can’t help noticing how fucking weird the girls are acting as soon as she joins them, and her suspicion only grows. Rachel keeps offering her water, as if Dot just ran a marathon or something, and is in need of rehydrating. Shelby sits next to her and can’t stop touching her, little pats on her arm, on her back, on her knee. Fatin tells her she looks good this morning - which wouldn’t be weird, except there’s no obnoxious flirty comment, not even a wink, following that statement. Leah asks her about the survival shows she watches, and tries very hard to pretend she’s interested in Dot’s answer, which is kind of endearing, but mostly a bit surreal, because Dot has a very clear memory of Leah explaining in detail how much she hates reality TV shows. Nora and Martha also ask her a million questions, about her favorite sport, her favorite food, her favorite animal, her favorite actor. When Toni offers her a foot massage, Dot can’t handle it anymore.

“Okay, who did what?” she asks, firmly, looking around her with what she hopes is a stern enough expression that the culprits will confess immediately. “What happened while I was sleeping?” Bemused silence meets her, and Dot rolls her eyes. “Come on, you’re all trying way too hard, I know that means one of you fucked up. Spill.”

“No, Dottie, it’s nothing like that,” Shelby says, with a tentative smile. She hesitates, looking at Fatin for help, but it’s Nora who explains, with the sort of calm confidence Dot has grown to expect from her.

“We just wanted to show our appreciation. You always take care of all of us, so we thought we’d try to take care of you, for once.”

“And we felt bad about yesterday,” Martha adds, quickly, honestly. Ah, yes. The day before had been particularly chaotic, and Dot had in fact developed a real bad migraine by midday, from the sheer stress of trying to make everyone behave for five fucking minutes. 

“Yeah, we wanted to make it up to you,” Fatin says. She looks at Dot above the rim of her ridiculous sunglasses, half apologetic, half amused. “We realize, now, that we were acting like a bunch of assholes.”

“Some of us more than others,” Rachel says pointedly.

Leah and Toni both avert their eyes, sheepishly, which, well. You have to admire the self-awareness, at the very least. 

Dot blinks. “So the food outside the shelter --”

“We made you breakfast, bitch. Hope you liked the flowers.” Fatin smirks, quite obviously proud of herself. “And you’re not lifting a finger today, we got it all planned.”

“We made a chore list,” Toni adds. “Me and Shelby will go get some water before lunch --”

“And they promised not to fuck on the way,” Rachel interjects. 

Shelby has a coughing fit, and Dot instinctively slaps her on the back a few times, while Toni glares at Rachel, cheeks darkening, before continuing. “--Nora, Rachel and Leah are on food prep. Fatin and Martha will clean up, take care of the fire, and, like, entertain you if you’re bored while the rest of us are busy.”

“Entertain me, huh?” Dot asks, drily.

Fatin waggles her eyebrows, and Leah gives her a light smack on the arm. “Toni means we’ll play Uno,” Martha explains. “Or any other game. Or we’ll leave you alone if you want to chill by yourself.” She smiles at Dot, open and genuine. “This is your day. You get to do whatever you want.”

“Anything you wanna do, or you want us to do, just ask,” Shelby says.

“I can recite some poetry,” Leah offers.

“Except that,” Toni mumbles.

Leah flips her off, and for a second Dot worries about these two fighting again, like they did the day before, but they’re both smiling at each other, so they must have made up, for Dot’s sake, and that unexpectedly moves her.

“Guys,” Dot says. “You don’t have to do all that.”

“Yeah, we do,” Nora argues. She cocks her head, looking at Dot carefully. “We love you.”

“Come on, let us treat you like fucking royalty for a day,” Rachel says, with a little smile, and then she grows serious. “You saved all of our asses countless times. You saved my life, after the shark. Let us thank you.”

“You deserve it,” Martha adds. 

Dot finds that her throat has closed up, embarrassingly. There may even be tears in her eyes. “I’m… Fuck. Hm, thanks,” she murmurs. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, and nobody comments on it, thankfully. Shelby wraps an arm around her waist. Fatin blows her a kiss from across the fire. 

“Honestly, you know what would make me happy?” Dot says, voice a bit hoarse from emotion. “Spending the day together. Just having fun, for once. Enjoying the fucking vacation we were supposed to have, you know. I just wanna have a good time with my friends.”

Fatin grins. “I think we can do that.”

Dot closes her eyes, turns her face towards the sky. The sun is high, already, and hot on her skin. But the warmth she feels, spreading from her stomach to her chest, has nothing to do with it.

[impala666]

The One With The Monkey Part One: Marcel The Monkey

Here you go! Ross gets Marcel and Phoebe sings a depressing Christmas song! 

Friends Rewrite (masterlist) Last Part (part four, episode 9)

Four of you were sitting around Monica and Rachel’s kitchen table with a bowl of popcorn and a bowl of cranberries and you, Phoebe, and Joey were helping them make a strand of garland. You had work early in the morning tomorrow and even all day tomorrow, but thankfully all you could think about was Phoebe finally getting to perform holiday songs at Central Perk tomorrow night and all of you were going to watch and support her. “Guys, there’s somebody I’d like you to meet.” Ross who just happened to poke his head through the door like he lived there, but to be fair all of you kind of did that. Your jaw immediately dropped open when Ross entered and the cutest little monkey came in riding in on Ross’s back. 

“Wait, w-wait, what is that?” Monica asked, not sure whether she should step toward it or run away. 

“That would be Marcel.” Ross introduced the furry creature. “Wanna say hi?”

“Yes, please!” You shrieked when you ran around the table to take the monkey from Ross, and Marcel seemed more than happy to crawl down Ross and on to your shoulder. Your smile only grew when Marcel’s tail hung over your other shoulder. 

“He is precious, where did you get him?” Rachel asked as she watched the monkey relaxing on your shoulder. 

“My friend, Bethel, rescued him from some lab.” Ross explained while he took Marcel back from you, but you couldn’t help but shake your head at the fact that the poor little guy had to go through so many experiments and tests that he never had the say of just because of the species that he was. 

“That is so cruel.” You nodded in agreement with what Phoebe said, thinking she was on the right path. But boy, were you wrong. “Why would a parent name their child Bethel?”

“That was not what I expected out of you, Pheebs,” you said a little disappointed in yourself for getting your hopes up. You reached into the popcorn bowl and popped one in your mouth to prevent you from saying anything else. 

“Hey, that monkey’s got a Ross on his ass.” Chandler greeted his friend after he had stepped out of bathroom, and leaned against the back of Joey’s chair. 

“Ross, is he gonna live with you like in your apartment?” Monica couldn't help but ask an actual question out of concern for her older brother.  

“Yeah, it’s been kind of quiet since Carol moved out.” Which seemed like a very logical reason to go out there and get a pet that is completely out of the normal, you could totally understand Ross’s thought process on this one.

“Why not just get a roommate?” Monica asked, yet another great question.

“I think when you reach a certain age, having a roommate is kind of pathet…” After playing with Marcel’s tail, Ross realized the mistake he made when he saw all of you staring at him waiting for him to finish that sentence correctly. “Sorry, that's ‘pathet’ which is sanskrit for ‘really cool way to live.” 

**********

Finally, finally, finally, your day was over with. You toured the school that you were accepted to and have a very long 8 hour shift, so now it was time to kick back and see your weird and beautiful friend sing her set at Central Perk. As you walked into the building you were finally able to unclench once you felt the heat after just walking block after block in the freezing cold snow. “,and one about a snowman.” You heard Phoebe finish as she sat on the arm of the couch with her guitar on her lap. When they all see you enter all of them flashed you a smile in greeting, which you returned once you had hung your coat and scarf on the hooks by the door. After you had ordered your preferred hot drink of the day, you finally walked over to spend time with everyone. But apparently Joey wasn’t there yet. 

“Might want to open with the snowman,” Chandler told her. But you just looked at him confused. “Oh trust me, you don’t want to know.” Chandler promised once he saw the look on your face.

“Oookay,” you mumbled into your cup as you sat down on the couch arm next to Monica. “Hey, Joey,” you smiled once you saw him walking into the shop as he dusted off some of the snow that had fallen on him. Everyone joined in on your greeting him, while greeted everyone else also walking up to you, placing a hand on your waist and pecking you on the lips as your greeting. 

“So, how’d it go?” Monica asked Joey, wondering how his job interview for being Santa Clause went.

“I didn’t get the job,” Joey groaned in disappointment as he took off his coat and sat down in the chair next to you. All of you awed in agreement with his disappointment, while you leaned forward from your spot on the couch to rub his arm in sympathy. It was hard enough for him to get work as an actor, and now he didn't get the one job he got and looked forward to every year. Joey looked up at you with a sad smile while taking your hand while he sat backwards in his seat. 

“How could you not get it? You were Santa last year.” Ross couldn’t help but ask, Joey was really looking forward to that job. 

“I know!” You whined in agreement with Ross, “you were a shoe in, and you were so excited.” Plus he would make a really really hot Mr. Claus, but you decided to keep that piece of information to yourself.

“I don’t know. Some fat guy’s sleeping with the store manager. He’s not even jolly, it’s all political.” Joey added in on the complaining that just seemed unfair.

“I’m sorry, hon.” You rubbed his arm as you got to your feet. “Do you want some coffee?” You offered while giving him a hug and wrapping your arm around his neck. He nodded a yes, and you pecked him on the forehead before turning to the counter and ordering a coffee to cheer him up. 

“So what’re you going to be?” Monica asked. 

“I’m going to be one of his helpers, but it’s just such a slap in the face, you know?” He just couldn’t get past the way that he didn’t get the job that he knew that he was so right for. 

“Hey, do you guys know what you’re doing for New Years?” Rachel asked, causing everyone except you and Joey to groan just at the thought that none of them had dates. “Geez, what is wrong with New Years?” Clearly not liking that way that she was getting attacked. 

“Well nothing for you, you have Paolo. And it’s not a problem for Y/N or Joey either because they have each other. You don’t have to face the horrible pressures of this holiday.” Chandler explained to her as he walked over towards her. “The desperate scramble to find anything with lips just so you have somebody to kiss when the ball drops! Man, I’m talking loud.” He finally just noticed that his voice was dramatically getting louder and louder with each sentence. 

“Well, for your information. Paolo is going to be in Rome this New Years, so I’ll be just as pathetic as the rest of you.” Rachel explained to the rest of you. “Well, except Joey and Y/N,” she grimaced at how lucky you two are while she watched Joey kiss you very sweetly after you brought him the coffee that you bought for him. 

“Yeah, you wish,” Phoebe added in where her comment didn’t really make sense. 

“It’s just that I’m sick of being victim to this Dick Clark holiday.” Chandler wowed. “I say this year, no dates. We make a pact, just the seven of us. Dinner.” Everyone seemed to be in agreement.

“How can it be no couples in the seven of us when two of us are already in a relationship?” You asked him, retaking your spot on the arm of the couch. 

“Just don’t act like one, okay?” Chandler whined as he tried to reason with you and his best friend. “I know which will be hard for you because you two are gross.”

“Well, thank you,” you said taking it as a compliment. 

“Well, you’re welcome.” Chandler played back. “And I was hoping for a little more enthusiasm.” Causing everyone into different forms of celebratory sounds. 

“Phoebe, you’re on.” Rachel warned her as she stepped onto the now stage to introduce her friend. “Ladies and gentlemen, back by popular demand. Miss Phoebe Buffay!” Rachel wooed as she and everyone else in the building applauded and Phoebe took the stage. 

“Hi!” Phoebe said into the mic. “Yeah, hi. I want to start with a song that means a lot to me this time of year.” You smiled watching in wonderment as Chandler leaned against the side of the couch next to you. Phoebe jingled some bells before she officially started her song. “I made a man with eyes of coal and a smile so bewitching.” Phoebe started to sing what sounded like was going to be a nice, cool Christmas song, but you should have know better by now that it would take a drastic and depressing turn. “How was I supposed to know that my mom was dead in the kitchen?” And immediately your smiling face turned into an uncomfortable and disturbed face, which you shared when with Ross and Monica. 

Now the mood in the coffee shop that was once filled with Christmas cheer was now filled with a depressing silence. Phoebe’s song was far from over, making everyone very depressed and just staring off into space. Rachel was sunk down in a chair, Chandler took your spot on the couch arm, and you were sitting on Joey’s knee with your head resting on Joey’s head with the look of deep sadness on your face. “My mother’s ashes, even her eyelashes are resting in a little yellow jar. And sometimes when it’s breezy, or I feel a little sneezy, and now. Excuse me!” Phoebe stopped singing which made you wake up a little tiny bit, and she started yelling at the rude, loud talking men. “Excuse me! Noisy boys? Is it something that you would like to share with the entire group?” She asked them, like a teacher catching a few of her students passing around notes during class. 

“No, no. That’s okay.” The nerdy guy in the flannel told her. 

“Ohhh they’re in trouble.” You whispered with a little smirk on your face. Chandler looked at you with a similar smirk, as well as Joey and Rachel next to you. 

“Well come on, if it’s important enough to discuss while I’m playing then I assume it’s important enough for everyone else to hear.” Phoebe argued back over at Flannel. 

“Well, that guy’s going home with a note.” Chandler told the three of you with a bit of a scared look on his face. 

“Could you speak up please?” Phoebe asked very close to the microphone when the other guy in the sweater started mumbling out his reasoning for interrupting her. 

“Sorry,” the guy in the sweater stood up. “I was saying to my friend that I thought you were the most beautiful woman that I’d ever seen in my life and then he said that you thought that Daryl Hannah was the most beautiful woman that he’d ever seen in his life. And I said, “Yeah I liked her in Splash a lot, but not so much in Wall Street, I thought she had a hard quality. And, um, while Daryl Hannah is beautiful in a conventional way you are luminous with a kind of delicate grace.” The guy paused after realizing he just said in public. “Then that’s when you started yelling.” After he finished the guy in the sweater sat back down in his seat. All of you turned towards Phoebe to see what her reaction was going to be.

“Okay, we’re going to take a short break.” She announced while setting her guitar down on the stand so that she could go talk to that man that said all the nice things about her. 

“That guy’s going home with more than a note.” Joey announced with a sneaky smirk on his face.      

[notyourdayrdream]

Summer’s Almost Over (So Come Spend it with Me)

Day Five, Side A: Austere

read it here on AO3

A/N: brief mention of Kurt being kissed without consent in season two of Glee

(also! for this two shot: Kurt and Blaine met at Dalton, but never dated.)

“What if we went to Coney Island Saturday?” Brittany exclaimed at their weekly potluck, completely out of the blue. Nobody had even mentioned the theme park. Though, to be fair, nobody begins half of the conversations Brittany throws them in.

For some reason, everyone agreed, even Rachel. She said taking a break from the hustle of Broadway was exactly what she needed to be ready to continue her role as Fanny on Monday.

Outvoted, Kurt reluctantly sat between Blaine and Sam on the subway ride to Coney Island, legs shaking the entire time. It wasn’t that he hated carnivals. It was the opposite, actually. When he was younger, his mom and dad took him to the Ohio state carnival. It’s one of the last memories he can fully remember of her, her long blonde hair braided back as she threw a plastic ball at a stack of milk cans. Anything for her kid, especially one who desperately wanted an oversized dragon plushie.

No, he’s nervous because he has a date at eight.

Kurt met Oliver at a coffeehouse near the Vogue office, he was the barista who served him his drink. Oliver’s number was scribbled on the receipt. It was all very cute, and his friends agreed when he told them the story.

They texted back and forth a week before Oliver asked him out. Kurt happily agreed, hoping for a calm day before getting dressed and heading out to a fancy dinner. Now though, he won’t even have enough time to shower the smell of hotdogs off his body and be on time.

So Kurt’s scrolling through Oliver’s Instagram (not at all like a creep,) when Artie pats his shoulder. “There they are,” he points ahead as the rest of his friends stumble to them, chatting animatedly about the rollercoaster they just went on.

“You know, when you said ‘let’s go on a ride,’ I didn’t think you meant the one with a huge drop,” Rachel says, gripping Santana’s arm so hard it might fall off. Her hair is wind whipped and messy.

“C’mon Rach, you could’ve sat with Kurt and Artie if you wanted,” Mercedes says from behind her, arms wrapped around Sam’s waist.

“Did you guys have fun?” Kurt asks from the bench, carefully closing the app so he doesn’t accidentally like an old photo. “Rachel looks like she just died.” This is why he didn’t go on the ride.

Blaine sits beside him on the bench, his eyes gleaming with a sort of childlike wonder. He’s a total adrenaline junkie. “It was amazing, she’s overreacting,” he whispers not-too-discreetly. Kurt giggles.

“Let’s split up,” Santana suggests. “I wanna go on another coaster, and the park closes at six. We can grab dinner after?”

“Unless you’re Sam and Brittany, who already ate,” Artie chides. His camera rests on his lap, storage filled with videos and photos of their trip.

“Hey! Cotton candy is not one of the five food groups!” Brittany sticks out a blue tongue at him, Sam does the same. Their respective partners laugh.

“I have to leave soon,” Kurt reminds the group, checking his phone another time. Five thirty-two.

“Wait, never mind guys,” Santana alerts, appearing to be suddenly anxious. “Kurt has to get his brains fucked out at eight, so we can’t have dinner.” Both Blaine and Kurt wince.

“Too far, San.” Mercedes cringes as her and Sam make their way down the boardwalk steps and to the beach. The others shake their heads in similar disgust before going their separate ways. Rachel pushes Artie to the outdoor arcade with plans to win a bagged goldfish. Brittany pulls her girlfriend by a sticky hand to the older wooden coaster.

“So…” Blaine knocks his shoulder as they walk down the boardwalk. The gel has completely left his hair throughout the course of the day, curls hanging just above his eyebrows. “Whatcha wanna do?” Kurt spies him eyeing the Wonder Wheel beside him.

He shakes his head, not waiting for the question. “No.”

“Please?” Blaine pleaded. “You haven’t been on anything this whole time.” He sidesteps a tiny toddler crying over a fallen ice cream cone.

“I didn’t want Artie to feel alone!” Kurt defends himself. Which was true, most of the coasters weren’t accessible for him, so they spent the time bonding over the grossness of carnival food and looking at footage from the day.

“We’ll Artie isn’t here now,” Blaine replies, voice dropping an octave. “So come on the ferris wheel with me.” He bats his eyelashes for extra effect. Kurt’s stomach swoops.

Blaine has a way of doing that to him. In their near five year friendship, he’s made Kurt’s stomach tie up in knots more times than he can count. He won’t deny he used to have a crush on him in high school; he was preppy and chivalrous and oh so cute in his bow ties and blazers.

Kurt pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he sighs. Blaine cheers next to him, mumbling ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’ in the same deep voice that makes the blood rush to Kurt’s face.

Okay, maybe the crush wasn’t entirely dead. But it’s completely normal to have crushes on your friends. Friendly crushes.

Since the park is soon to close, the lines weren’t too long anymore. Kurt and Blaine move up first in line after only five minutes.

The ride operator turns to them. Her hair is bordering on orange. “You guys want an outside or inside car?” Her voice has no expression, and she looks two more button presses from quitting her job.

“Outside.” Kurt and Blaine say at the same time, followed by a quiet laugh.

She eyes them. “Alright.” She presses another button, and the outer ring of ferris wheel carts rotate downwards until an empty one comes to the bottom. “Enjoy the ride.”

Blaine and Kurt slide into the seat, sitting on opposite sides of the enclosure. The ride jerks forward and up, until they’re halfway around the ride. “Are you okay? Your face is really pale.” Blaine asks, eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“Mm-hmm,” Kurt squeaks, closing his eyes to avoid looking down. Even though the car is supposed to be stationary, it rocks just a little as it moves up and down to complete its first circle.

Blaine thinks for a moment before saying quietly, “You’re afraid of heights?” He jumps a little in his seat, and the car rocks with it. Kurt’s stomach drops.

“I am!” he snaps, opening his eyes. “Stop moving so much.” The city is lit up around them, the sound of cheers from the rollercoaster whizzing by below him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Blaine stills himself. “I wouldn’t have made you go on if you had told me, Kurt!” He looks so worried that Kurt feels bad for even mentioning his fear. It’s completely irrational anyway, he doesn't even have a reason to be so scared. It’s just the fact he believes no human needs to be up one hundred fifty feet high.

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” he tries to console Blaine (and himself). “It’ll be over in what, three more minutes?” He can last three more minutes. Hell, he’s lasted an hour listening to Rachel and Santana argue.

And then the ride stops. At the very top.

It takes a minute for the two of them to realize this isn’t supposed to happen. “Why’d it stop.” Kurt says. His body feels like it might melt onto the floor. “Oh my god, no.”

“We’re stuck.” Blaine groans, which, thanks Captain Obvious! Those two words are confirmation that this is actually the absolute worst day ever. “I’ll call someone.”

Rachel’s ringtone beats him to it.

Kurt can’t hear much of the conversation, but from the looks Blaine throws his way, he knows it isn’t good. He cracks his knuckles as a way to distract himself from the slight sway of the cart. Passerbys the size of ants point and look up at the malfunctioned ride.

Blaine clicks the end call button. “Okay, good news first, ” he begins, pocketing his phone. “Rachel and Artie talked to the operators, and they’re working on fixing the ride.”

“Bad news?” Kurt presses. Blaine likes to do that thing where he gives good news then bad news, but the latter is always so bad the good news pales in comparison. He’s done that ever since they met. It’s silly, but it’s Blaine, so Kurt loves it.

“Bad news is that it might take thirty minutes, maybe forty-five.” Blaine cringes from the other side of the cart, waiting for Kurt’s outburst.

“No.” Kurt snatches his phone out of his pocket. “No, no, no, this can’t be happening!” He feels tears prick at the back of his eyes. He’s gonna be late. “I’m gonna miss my date!” He groans, and yeah it may be a little over dramatic, but he hasn’t been on a date with someone in months. He was really excited.

Expecting sympathy from Blaine, he glanced over at him. He’s glaring right back at him. “What?”

“Is that really what you’re worried about right now?” Blaine says abruptly. “God forbid you miss your date.” He rolls his eyes with more venom Kurt’s seen in him ever. It freaks him out and angers him at the same time.

“Okay, what’s your problem?” He retorts, eyes narrowing. Blaine shrinks back a little at the stare, but doesn’t stop glowering.

“You’ve been going on about this stupid guy the whole day, complaining about how you have to go home, I’m so sick of it!” Blaine continues. His voice grows louder by the end.

“He’s not stupid, okay?” Kurt doesn’t know why he feels like he has to defend Oliver, but he does anyway. “And you’re the main one who wanted me to go out with him!” This whole situation is confusing him.

Blaine huffs indignantly and crosses his arms. “Maybe I don’t want you to anymore!”

“Why not?” Kurt presses. He’s never seen his best friend act like this. He almost seems jealous.

“Because I like you!” Blaine cries, eyes wet. “Jesus, couldn’t you tell?” His face is red now, flushed up to his neck.

Kurt flinches. “Please stop yelling.”

“I’m sorry.” Blaine immediately backs down, curling into himself. “I like you, Kurt. I’m sorry if that freaks you out, but I do.”

The sun is starting to set now, casting what feels like the entire world in an orange haze. The ocean to the right of them glimmers, couples walked in tandem along the shore. To the left, the skyline of Brooklyn appears austere and somber from so high up.

“How long?” Kurt says finally, eyes settling on the horizon and the rolling waves.

“How long what?”

“How long have you liked me?” He doesn’t know if he wants the answer.

There’s a pause until Blaine eventually murmurs, “Five years.”

Kurt’s heart drops. “Blaine.” Why didn’t he say anything? Oh god, this is horrible.

“I just, I didn’t wanna ruin our friendship by admitting anything,” Blaine explains, rubbing the nape of his neck. “It’s a lame excuse. But—yeah.” And he resides back into silence.

It is a lame excuse, Kurt thinks. Of course it wouldn’t have ruined anything. He had a crush on his stepbrother, for Christ’s sake. “So why did you want me to go out with Oliver so bad?”

“I thought, maybe, if you started dating someone I could get over you,” he laughs to himself. “That obviously didn’t work.”

Kurt just stares at him for a moment until he makes up his mind. “I’m coming over there.”

Blaine jerks out of his thoughts. “N-no, don’t come any closer,” he stammers. “You’ll mess up the balance of the car.” He looks terrified. Kurt can’t decide if it’s sad or adorable.

He rolls his eyes. “I won’t mess up the balance of anything.” Kurt stands slowly, holding his arms out to his sides. He takes the three steps to Blaine’s side of the car quickly to get it over with, shaking the seats. When he falls into the seat, Blaine steadies him by the waist. The touch shocks both of them, and he snatches his arm back.

They sit shoulder to shoulder, neither of them daring to move. It’s what feels like hours before Kurt takes a deep breath and gathers his thoughts. “Do you remember when we first met? And I was having trouble with Karofsky? You texted me a single word. Courage.” He turns to the side. Blaine looks absolutely disheveled, sweating and curls getting frizzier by the minute. Weirdly, he looks gorgeous.

Blaine snorts. “Yeah, that word got you sexually assaulted.”

“No,” Kurt shakes his head, choosing to ignore the way his heart stops from the words. “That word saved me. You saved me, Blaine.” He would’ve never stood up for himself without that text. It got him through McKinley and Dalton and NYADA to this day.

“I’m always going to care about you. And I’m sorry I don’t… like you the way you like me. But I used to,” Kurt admits, now nervous like must’ve been. That secret was supposed to go to the grave. “And maybe I can again.”

Blaine meets his gaze, an emotion Kurt can’t quite place swirling around his eyes. “Okay.” He smiles, and though it is wavering, it’s also hopeful.

There’s a jolt, and the wheel starts turning again. It’s dark now, the sun fully disappeared below the horizon. The sky is a mix of purple and black and blue, a bruise painted among the stars. Kurt hears cheers from the other cars as they reach the ground below. “Okay.”

[thorne93]

History Repeats (Part 8)

Prompt: Life’s hard, right? Well throw in a not so great job, a broken heart, and chasing a pipe dream in LA. But could someone come along to make all the bad shit disappear? Or is he just another heartbreak waiting around the bend?

Warnings: language, drug addiction, alcohol addiction, angst/heartbreak, adult themes (??)

Word Count: 1874

Note: Aesthetic made by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​ because she’s absolutely amazing Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​ . Brainstorming from @carryonmyswansong​​

**Song Inspiration: Wanna Be by Betty Who

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Living with Hayden proved to be nowhere near as daunting and scary as you thought it would be. At first, yes, there were a few bumps in the road. The laundry situation got a little confusing, the chores got a little mixed around, the groceries were nearly a catastrophe, but after a few weeks, the two of you finally had everything all sorted out.

Once the small discrepancies were sorted, he was a delight to have. Nothing changed about your friendship, in fact, it made it a little easier. Rather than figuring out whose place you would head to to hang out, or worrying about someone needing to get back somewhere in time for bed...None of that existed any more. You went to work, and reconvened at night when you got home. 

Sometimes he was still up, waiting for you with a leftover plate of dinner ready so you didn’t have to cook. Other times, he kept a plate set aside with a note telling you how exhausted he was and he was in bed. To you, the notes were sweet. A lot of guys would just text something like “going to bed. Dinner on the counter. Night” or “didn’t make dinner. You may need to grab something.” But not Hayden, he always put thought into it. 

His notes usually consisted of a wishful note on hoping your day went nicely, a comment or two on his own day, and a description of what he made for dinner. One night you came home to a bottle of wine and a piece of chocolate cake he set aside for you, after a particularly bad shift. The gesture had made your heart melt. Another night, you’d mentioned craving cheese so he made extra cheesy garlic bread with spaghetti. Another night, he surprised you with a few chocolate truffles and a can of coke since your head hurt, along with the aspirin already set out. If you weren’t careful, he was going to make you gain weight.

But you didn’t care. Hayden was so caring and sweet and attentive. You tried to repay the favor on days you were off by making him meals, surprising him with his favorite candy, or queuing up the next episode of whatever show you two were currently in the middle of. If he wasn’t feeling up for any of that, you’d freshen his sheets and room.  

And if you two weren’t trying to outdo each other on the level of kindness, you would sit and play cards or a board game. Sometimes you worked on your writing and he worked on lines. Sometimes you even helped each other. You read lines with him and he helped you come up with smoother choruses. 

Life couldn’t get much better for you. Jason was pretty much completely gone from your mind, your work seemed to be getting better and if it wasn’t, you always had Hayden to light it up for you. Hayden’s rent was already helping and he seemed happy to have a space to call his own. 

Now, you were out getting groceries for the week and Hayden was just getting off work. He sent you a text to ask for a couple more things and you made your way to getting them. You grabbed the last bit of stuff that he wanted, the stuff on your list, you checked out, and made your way home.

When you got there, you were surprised by what you found. 

“Hey, there’s...a little person here,” you noted as you got in the door with some of the bags of groceries.

You stepped inside and you saw Hayden crouched on the floor, talking to a two or three year old blonde little girl, playing with her hands and smiling at her. 

“Oh hey, you’re home!” Hayden noted as he looked up at you and grinned widely, taking your breath away as it always did. “And your arms are full of groceries. Let me help.” 

“Oh, no, you’re fine. Keep playing.”

He just rolled his eyes and walked past you out to the car to finish bringing in the bags. You sat them down and went over to the little girl, kneeling in front of her.  

“Hey there,” you greeted softly as she smiled at you and put her fingers in her mouth. “I’m Y/N. What’s your name?” 

Hayden just stepped in and put the bags down before joining you two. 

“This is Briar Rose,” he informed proudly as he gazed at her, then looked back at you. 

His introduction triggered in your head and the realization hit you. His daughter. This is the Briar Rose you two had spent so much time talking about. 

“Oh! Oh my god! This is Briar!” you gasped. “It’s so lovely to meet you,” you said as you took her hand and shook it and she grinned and giggled.

“Briar, this is my good friend, Y/N. She owns this big house that we’re playing in and she’s nice enough to let Daddy stay here,” he said, pretending to press a button on her stomach, making her giggle. “Isn’t that nice?” 

“Yeah,” she concurred, nodding, a happy grin on her face. 

“When did she get here?” you asked, surprised and excited. 

“An hour ago. Rachel dropped her off,” he informed, thrusting his head over his shoulder.

“Ah, gotcha,” you said, nodding, her name bringing up a bit of jealousy. “Well I’m gonna put the groceries up. I’ll make your dinner and get out of your way,” you said.

“Get out of our way?” he asked as you stood up and walked into the kitchen.

“Well, yeah? Don’t you want some bonding time with Briar? I don’t want to impose. I’ll just go to my room and chill or sing or something,” you responded, shrugging him off with a wave.

“What? No. I want you out here with us. I’d love for you to meet her and get to know her. I’m sure she’d really enjoy it too,” he assured.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. Go ahead and make lunch and I’ll get her changed so we can go to the park after.”

“Oh! Or I could make up a picnic lunch and we could take it with us!” you offered, excited beyond belief to be able to spend the day with a child, let alone Hayden’s little angel. 

“That’s perfect. I’ll meet you back out here in fifteen minutes?” he asked as he hoisted her up onto his hip.

“Yep!”

At that, he took off to his room to get her changed and probably get a to-go pack ready for her, meanwhile you set to work on a nutritious lunch a toddler could eat, as well as filling items for an adult.

As soon as you were all set up, the food, plates, and utensils ready, you met Hayden back near the front door, Briar on his lap. 

“I’ll drive, so you can have time with her,” you said with a gentle smile at his beautiful daughter. 

“Really?” he asked, astonished, his blue eyes searching yours.

“Yeah, of course,” you assured, smiling up at him. 

“Thank you. Let me just grab the car seat from my car and we’ll get going.”

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

The three of you shared a wonderful day at the park. It was in the high sixties, warm, with a low breeze. Briar played on just about everything and Hayden joined her ninety-percent of the time, pushing her on the swings, helping her on the jungle gym, putting her on the teeter-totter. You looked on with such awe. Hayden possessed every facet of a father to you - caring, nurturing, fun, involved. So long as he was with Briar, he was smiling and happy it seemed, and it warmed your soul.

He joined you back on the blanket you’d brought. 

“Why don’t you join us?” he asked, excited anticipation in his face and voice as he grabbed a cracker and cheese. 

“Nah, this is for you and Briar. I’m just here to watch.”

“Nonsense, come here,” he said, grabbing your hand and hoisting you up.

“Hayden, no! No, Hayden!” you said, laughing and pulling away from him. “I’m fine. Really!” you said, chuckling so hard your argument was futile. He eventually let go of your hand and grabbed you around the waist and pulled you over to the swings, sitting you down right beside Briar. 

“You gonna swing wiff me, Y/N?” Briar asked with a happy grin on her face as her little hands gripped the chains of the swings.

“I suppose I am. Your dad seems to insist,” you said, laughing up at him as he pushed you once on the swing. 

“You need to learn to let go, a little,” he said as he walked over to Briar. 

“Oh? Just a little?” you asked with heavy sarcasm.

“Yeah, just a little,” he repeated with a wink.

“Push, Daddy! Push! Higher!” Briar squealed and you reveled in watching the two of them before you suddenly got an idea and hopped up from the swing.

You stood in front of Briar and caught her swing as she was coming forward.

“What happening?” Briar said as she seemed curious, scared, and delighted all in one.

“I’m the tickle monster, and I’ve caught you in a trap. The only way to get out of it, is to give me the secret code word,” you said with a fake, silly, sinister look and voice. 

“No!” she squealed and laughed.

You slowly acted as if you were gonna tickle her, letting go of the swing with one arm, the other slowly going towards her side. 

“No!” she cried out again.

“You gotta give me the password, then!”

“Pwease?!” she said, giggling.

“Nope!” you said, your hand inching forward. “Guess again!”

“Pwetty pwease!”

“Almost,” you teased as your hand was almost to her pink jacket. 

“Pwetty pwease with sprinkles!”

“Yep!” you cheered. “Now hold on tight!” You waited to make sure she had a hold of the swing before letting it fall back to her father. She squealed and giggled the entire way back before he pushed her to you again, where you would grab her and pretend to drop her a few times, before actually letting her go. She seemed to love the thrill of the idea of falling. 

The three of you continued to play, and run, and chase, and laugh all over the park. By the end of it, Briar was asleep in her carseat on the way home, and it was already growing dark. 

Quietly, on the drive, you told Hayden, “I’m gonna make you dinner, but then I’m gonna go work on writing.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“No, I want to. I had a blast today. It was amazing. But I think you need time with your daughter.” You glanced back at her in the mirror. “I know how much you miss her, I don’t blame you. So you need to have some time with her though.”

“Yeah, we need to have our traditional night of watching Trolls together,” he mentioned fondly. 

“Dinner in bed, then,” you corrected lightly as you glanced to him and smiled, him returning it with a warm grin, melting your insides.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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