#so I had a moment of like 'wait is hummus green to him???' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starsstruck · 4 years

Text

blue dream

a getting high to lovers if you will (or stonerrry). you and harry absolutely love the time you spend together with your little smoke sessions, not being able to get enough of each other. shared pipes, hummus snacks and night time swims.

pairing: harry x reader words: 15.4k rated: M (drug usage and sexual content)

disclaimer: i am not promoting drug use. those arrested for marijuana usage and possession should not be in incarcerated. please remember to be safe and smart, and happy smoking.

a/n: hello i am back again. this piece is just all fun, something that i think about far too often and wanted to bring to life ! i am very excited to share it with everyone and i hope you all enjoy ! as always please let me know your thoughts and happy reading ❣️

***

“Brought us a little treat,” you sat yourself next to Harry, smiling hello to him.

He grinned down at you, having been waiting for the opportunity to speak you again and not getting the chance to earlier. “Thought I saw you come in. What have you got?”

Reaching through the bag that sat by your feet, digging through it until your fingers wrapped around the glass container. Shaking it as you pulled it out, knowing that Harry would immediately know what it was.

“Jo gave me this new strain they just got in.” You watched his eyebrows raise in interest. “It’s a hybrid of course. Join me?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Harry smiled, quickly standing to his feet, ready to head outside where the two of you always smoked. His place had a very cute backyard, you had no idea if it was him who made it that way with the little potted plants, or if it was someone else, but you loved it nonetheless.

It was a bit unspoken, that the two of you always smoked together. You weren’t too certain how the tradition started, neither of you being that close beforehand. But you always were bringing a little bit of weed with you when you went out, and somehow Harry was the only one wanting to join you.

Your good friend, Jo, had been working in a local dispensary for over a year now and she always brought home with her new strains that they would get in, or edibles, or just anything she wanted to try. The two of you had studied together in college, always indulging each other with your weed antics. Which apparently still have yet to stop.

Harry had been a friend of a friend to you. You had rarely seen him around, and when you did you barely spoke to him. For a good part of a year you saw him very sparingly, out with mutual friends or over at someone’s house for dinner.

It was only really in the past couple of months that the two of you grew much closer, both finding the other enjoying a smoke rather than a drink, and particularly enjoying each other’s company.

It had really started one night when you stopped by your friend Eli’s house one day after work, having promised him that you would bring by some weed since Jo had given you an amazing discount yet again.

Harry had been there as well, and although the original plan was to stop by to drop off the weed and then quickly be on your way home, they had ended up inviting you to stay for some dinner and maybe a little shared bowl or two.

After eating some salad rolls that they made when you got there, retreating to the little balcony at Eli’s place to give the new strain you brought over a try. You had spent very little time with Harry by this point, a casual acquaintance.

Though when Eli passed out nearly immediately from smoking, saying he had too much at once and needed a little lie down, it was really the first time you and Harry were alone together.

“He always falls asleep,” Harry laughed from across you on the balcony.

“That he does,” you hummed in agreement, your movements feeling languid and slow as you took a big sip of the water in front of you.

Harry was leaning back on a little chair, hands resting on his stomach and legs folded over each other. “I didn’t know you liked to smoke.” He spoke after a little moment in silence.

You laughed, knowing very well that all your friends always said maybe you enjoyed it a little too much. “Yeah, maybe a bit too much. I have a friend that works in a dispensary, she always gets me great stuff.”

“I love that,” Harry hummed, reaching out over the table between the two of you to fiddle with the lighter.

“Didn’t know you smoked either.”

He rubbed his hand over his face, pausing with a laugh. “Enjoy it a bit too much as well. Never really did it until my twenties, but only started smoking more often until a couple years ago. Like it better than drinking.”

“I get that,” you nodded along. “It’s just… nicer. Calmer.”

You had ended up spending a good part of an hour chatting with Harry. The next time you saw him was at Eli’s once again, the two of you deciding to end the night seated on his balcony with a joint being passed around. Since then, it had nearly become unspoken that if you both felt like it, you would go out for a little smoke or two together.

You grabbed your bag, pushing the glass door open to expose a little set up of chairs and a table. Settling into one of the cold chairs, placing your bag on the table and pulled out your little baggy you carried your grinder and pipe in. Harry settled in next to you, ever so attentive as you quickly worked your magic.

Picking up small buds of the plant between your nails, lightly ripping them apart and placing them haphazardly into the green grinder. Twisting it back and forth after closing the lid over the grinder, eyes flicking over to Harry.

“How’ve you been?” He asked, watching your hands quickly work around the grinder.

“Good,” humming, opening up the grinder and starting to fill up the small bowl of your pipe with the shredded bits of weed. “Work’s been a bit stressful lately.”

“Yeah, been a bit since I’ve seen you.” He nodded, eyes already on you when you looked over at him. “Everything’s okay though?”

“Yeah, nothing really knew. Just the same old problems,” grinning at him, knowing full well he’d heard about your issues at work over and over. You hated how much you annoyed people with your stories, you liked your job you really did, but there were just some things that never seemed to go away.

Reaching for the painted lighter on the table, bringing the end of your pipe to your mouth, flicking the lighter a couple times unsuccessfully as the wind blew kept blowing out the flame.

“Here,” Harry leant forward in his chair, body facing yours as he brought his hands up to cup around the pipe. Hands brushing against yours as you lit the plant, inhaling through the mouth of the pipe as you did so.

Cheeks hollowing, blowing some smoke from your nose as you inhaled again. The smoke heavy in your throat, moving the pipe away from your lips while Harry dropped his own hands back down. Breathing the smoke in slowly, waiting a beat until blowing it back out through parted lips.

Wordlessly passing it over to Harry, watching as he turned his body to block the wind and quickly lit the bowl, pipe against his mouth. Wrapping around the end just a bit, repeating your motions as he slowly inhaled with a puffing chest and hollowing cheeks.

Licking his lips as he pulled the pipe away, softly blowing the smoke out. You watched the smoke leaving his mouth, looking nearly orange as it caught the light coming from inside.

“S’nice.” He nodded, not feeling a burn in his throat. “Smooth, if that makes sense.”

“Makes a lot of sense,” you nodded, grabbing the pipe and lighter again and taking another hit. Returning the question to him, asking how he’s been and catching up on small anecdotes since the two of you had been apart.

Harry loved his time like this with you, if anything it was all he looked forward to when you’d come over with your little bag of ‘treats’ as you called it. He had always enjoyed smoking, but just talking with you outside like this was something he couldn’t believe he used to go without.

“You know you can always let me know if you need a little smoke after work,” he offered after you told him a particular story of your stress. His high had nicely settled in, the emptied pipe sitting in front the of two of you as you chatted away.

“I’ll hold you up to that,” you hummed, playing with a ring on your finger. You had never really hung out just the two of you to smoke, this little ritual always happening when you were with your other friends and would sneak out together to get a little stoned.

A small quiet fell over the two of you, noises from chatter inside muffled with the soft music playing was all that was heard. You silently added a bit more to the bowl, not having to ask if he wanted more as both of you usually smoked about two bowls together before deciding it was enough for the night. Plus, the high was light so far, and you wanted to see where a few more hits would get you.

“Did you want to head back inside?” Quickly finishing that second bowl, pulling the little ashtray sitting on the windowsill across from you, taping out the ash.

Harry was quiet for a second, eyes narrowing on the way you so comfortably worked with the task at hand. He remembers the first time you had both gone out to his backyard space to some, just the two of you, and how you immediately made yourself at home.

“Not really,” he finally spoke, realizing he had left your question unanswered. “Kind of rather stay out here for a bit.” Sheepish smile shot in your direction, watching you offer him a big grin. He could use the nice calm summer air as an excuse, the way he was just cozy enough in his fleece sweatshirt, but truthfully, he just wanted to spend more time with you alone.

“Me too.”

He beamed when you agreed, nodding along as he watched you bring your feet up to your chair, hugging your knees to your chest. “Did you want any snacks?”

You hummed, nodding your head lightly and furrowing your brow as if deep in thought. “Do you have any hummus?”

Harry quickly left to go grab the two of you some food, upholding the silent agreement that the two of you shared. Since you usually brought the weed, he would always have no problem in offering you food, making the trade more or less equal.

You didn’t realize you were smiling to yourself while you waited for Harry outside, noticing that he never used to have the snacks you liked on hand until this became a regular thing.

Harry soon reappeared with a box of crackers tucked under his arm, some hummus and baby carrots for the sake of being healthy although you both knew the extra salty crackers were much more desirable. In his other hand were two glasses of water, handing you one so that he could place the other down.

You loved to watch his hands, secretly in awe but just how pretty they looked. Whether they were rolling a joint, cupping the flame of a lighter, or brushing against yours as you handed the pipe back and forth, you always found yourself just the slightest bit entranced with his hands.

The muffled music from inside was enough for you, excitedly opening up the box of herb flavoured crackers. This was your favourite part, when the two of you sat side by side, snacking on whatever the mood was for the night and mindlessly chattering away.

The both of you would often space out, easily forgetting what the other one was saying and never really holding a true start to end conversation. But you liked it that way, usually remembering your half-baked ideas the next day and texting Harry about them, almost finished off the conversation that way.

“What are you doing Thursday?”

Pulling your attention back towards him, waiting for you to answer him. “I get off work at 7, why?”

“You want to do something that night? Smoke a bit?”

You found yourself immediately nodding to his question. “Yeah that sounds nice. You could come by my place if you want, I live by the water, we could walk out there.”

Harry mirrored your grin. “Stunning.”

***

Meeting Harry out by where he parked his car on the street, tote bag swung over your shoulder and folded tapestry to sit on in hand. “Hi,” you smiled, nearly shyly. The long skirt of your dress was blowing open a bit in the wind, quickly fixing it as you joined Harry.

“You live so close to the water its amazing.” He grinned, easily falling in step with you as you led the way towards the water.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, knowing the location of your studio was a dream, although the tiny place and high rent wasn’t. “My place is really small though, but its honestly worth it.”

Harry was only carrying a jacket in his hands, seemingly dressed for the opposite weather that you were, in a baggy sweatshirt and jeans.

The walk down to the water was easy, taking less than ten minutes before you were leading Harry to a little secluded area you knew was comfortable to sit back in. The sun had just set, the sky would soon be getting even darker but a little hazy blue still remained above.

There was nearly no one by the water, only a couple other groups of people who were enjoying the cooling evening. You dropped your bag down to the ground, happy with your spot, watching Harry follow suit as he sat on the tapestry you spread out.

While you pulled out your usual bag and container that held everything you needed, Harry flipped through his music library on his phone until The Modern Lovers started playing, not too loudly. He watched as you repeated the same actions you always did, placing the pipe on the tapestry that you were sitting on, lighter next to it.

“I’ve never tried this one,” his eyes moved from your fingers to meet your gaze. “The strain I mean. Jo told me it’s one of the best she’s tried.”

“Hybrid?” He knew you usually would go for hybrids, finding the best middle ground with them. Only once did the two of you smoke a heavy indica. You had fallen asleep with your legs draped over his lap, head against the armrest of the couch.

“Of course,” you grinned, eyes flicking up to his briefly before focusing back on your task at hand. “Jo described the high as dreamy.”

“I like the sound of that.” Harry hummed, telling himself that most highs with you were in fact, dreamy.

Quickly filling the bowl of your ever-trusty blue pipe, flicking the lighter to light the buds while you brought the mouth of the pipe to your lips.

“It’s nice,” you spoke as you exhaled, not feeling the burning in your throat that would sometimes occur. You took another quick hit, exhaling the smoke from your nose before sucking in through your lips again.

Passing the glass pipe over to him, slowly letting the smoke blow out of your mouth. Harry repeated the same motion as you, resting his elbows on his knees with his legs spread out. You followed the way his head titled back slightly to blow the smoke out up, lips puckering as it left in a quick straight line.

“Fuck,” he muttered, mostly to himself. The lighter wasn’t properly titled when he went in for another take, the flame flicking just past his thumb. Shaking his hand out at the dull pain of the burn, while rubbing his index finger over the spot.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, moving the pipe away from his mouth and observed the red skin of his thumb. “Just a little burn.”

“Here,” you snatched the lighter from his hand. Flicking on the lighter for him, wordlessly motioning for him to take another hit.

Harry was perfectly able to do it himself, it was barely a first degree burn and it happened to everyone, even the most vetted smokers when they had to tilt their lighter down. But you had moved closer to him, turning your body to face his and your bent leg was resting right on his, so he didn’t mind.

“Thank you,” he couldn’t help the little smirk, before he went to inhale through the pipe. You rested your elbow on his bent knee, bringing your other hand to cup around the flame. His eyes were focused on yours as the two of you stilled for a second – that quick second ending when you dropped both hands away to rest on your legs.

You didn’t move from your spot so close to him until the bowl was finished, passing the pipe back and forth until it was all ash. You sat back around so that your back was leaning against the log with Harry by your side.

Although not facing each other anymore, you still sat close so that your bare arm was leaning against his covered one. The high settled in nicely, both chattering away about whatever came to mind until a small silence overtook you.

“Didn’t realize it was so dark out.” You said, head titling back against the wood behind you so that you could observe the stars. The beach had slowly emptied, the faint sounds of another group somewhere around you but not in sight.

Harry hummed. “The water looks nice.” He was right, it did. Although in the dark light, it was shimmering and it felt like every ripple on the surface was heightened.

“Didn’t really think this through,” Harry suddenly spoke from next to you, pulling your attention away from where the water hit the shore.

“Hm?”

“Not really in the right state to drive home anytime soon.” His eyes were still focused forward, watching the way the crescent moon reflected on the water in front of the two of you.

“Oh,” you paused, for what seemed like far too long but neither of you really noticed. “You could always stay at mine.”

He faced you at your words, small smile playing at his lips and heavy eyes looking into yours. “If it’s not too much trouble…”

Shaking your head slightly, not breaking his gaze as the breeze blew between the two of you. “No trouble at all.”

His eyes narrowed on the way your mouth remained slightly parted, before biting your lips together with a small smile twitching on the corners of your lips. He didn’t think about, or even care for that matter, that he was so shamelessly staring at your mouth in the moment.

Snapping himself out of his daze, small hum with a nod to confirm your invitation, turning his attention back to the scenery in front of you.

Sighing softly as you turned around as well, breeze carrying a soft smell of the water and soil around you. Maybe it was because you were the slightest bit out of your mind at the moment – it was probably due to your feeling of dehydration – but you really wanted to submerge yourself in that feeling the smell of the breeze was giving you.

Not being able to take your eyes off the water in front of you, wanting nothing more than to feel the coolness that it likely held all around you. Standing suddenly, Harry’s head spinning towards you at your fast movement.

“I want to swim.”

Taking a few steps away from Harry, tempting your way towards the water and only stopping when his voice called out from behind you. “Is that – I mean is that really the best idea?”

Turning around, seeing him rise to his feet as well but staying put with his hands on his hips, watching you from a distance. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well,” his voice was slow, and you didn’t even realize he had started walking towards you. “You’re not exactly sober, darling. Plus, it’s almost too dark out.”

He was right about the last part, the only real source of light right now was coming from the moon, that had just begun its path towards becoming full and was not offering that much light. The road wasn’t too far off, street lights lining it, but much to far off to offer any real lighting.

“I’m not swimming swimming, just a little dip,” you kept your eyes on him as he moved to stand next to you, not too far off from where the water hit the land. “Join me?”

“It’s going to be cold.” He hummed, not saying no.

“That’s kind of the point, no?”

His eyes narrowed on yours for a moment, briefly wondering what could possibly be going through your mind. “Doesn’t make too much sense.”

A breathy laugh left your lips, looking away from Harry and towards the water. “It’s just…” you didn’t know how to word what seemingly clear thoughts you had moment ago. “You know that feeling when you float in water and like, you feel heavy against the water but light at the same time?”

A small “yeah” that was nearly a whisper was the only noise Harry made, a silence falling around the pair of you before speaking again. “And then the water doesn’t really feel like water, its just something that’s nearly all consuming?”

Silence fell between you again, turning to Harry. Slow nod as he briefly looked over at you, grinning once again. “Didn’t realize you liked swimming so much.”

“I don’t,” you shrugged, “I just. Really want to be in the water right now.”

He laughed at your words, a deep laugh that made you smile along, eyes slowing in on him as you watched him tug his sweatshirt off above his head. Dropping it to the ground next to him without a care, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

“You’re gonna swim with me?” Murmuring as you tugged on your own clothes, untying the knot that held the fabric of your dress in at the waist.

“’Can’t have you splashing around there in the dark alone, can we?” He couldn’t help letting his eyes fell to where your fingers were moving to undo the buttons that’s lined the front of your dress.

Pulling down his loose fit jeans in one quick motion, kicking them aside and trying his best not to look at every new inch of exposed skin that you had uncovered after letting the long dress fall to the ground.

Offering Harry a smile that could almost been seen as shy, surprisingly not feeling cold in only your underwear and flimsy bralette. Shoes had long been abandoned, and you took a breath before taking the few steps needed to get to the water.

Not stopping when the cold water hit your feet, then shins, then knees, only turning around to see Harry following you once the water was just under your hips. Unlike you, he seemed to be taking much bigger bolder steps in the water. He shot you a little smile, before lunging forward with a messy little dive and soon he disappeared under the water.

He quickly reappeared, hair flat against his head before he brought a hand up to push it off his forehead. Easily finding his footing, standing a bit out of the water. He was far enough from you that only his silhouette was really visible, but the moon caught the gleam in his eyes. “Thought you were swimming?”

Pausing for another moment, before a laugh shook through you. Your legs had warmed up as the skin got used to the temperature of the water, moving in a bit deeper before taking the literal leap like Harry did and submerging yourself in the water.

The feeling of the water all around you was exactly like you had imagined it would be, and nothing like it at all. The cold water was a bit of a shock, but once your head emerged from the water and the warm night air hit you, you felt so relaxed.

“Exactly what I needed.” Laughing as you rubbed water out of your eyes, no doubt smudging the makeup you forgot you had on.

Harry’s mind slowed, probably because of the bowl he smoked earlier, but the fact that he was even under any kind of influence evaded him. You were close enough that he could distinguish separate drops of water shining in the moonlight, running down your neck. He was close enough that if he wanted, he could reach out and stop them from sinking down over your skin. And he did want to. He didn’t realize he was staring at you without saying anything for a while until his eyes met yours, his mind really slowing like he was in a cheesy movie and they slowed down the scene.

And right on cue, you pushed your hand through the water in one quick motion, splashing water onto his face.

Taking a moment to process your action, cool water dripping from where it hit his chin at your childish action. His hand moved in a near mirroring of yours, splashing water right back to you with enough force that had you rubbing water from your eyes afterwards.

Your mouth was dropped to an O, even though you had started the attack. Your lips moved as if you were about to speak. Instead a little laugh has heard while you turned away from him.

Water of course slowing you down as you tried to run away from him, only taking three wide slow steps before his presence was felt behind you. Small gasp leaving your lips when his warm skin came in contact with yours, arms wrapping around your waist as he trapped you in against him.

Harry’s mind slowed again, arms tightening against you as he kept his footing firm, your back resting against his chest. He was certain that you’d be able to feel his heartbeat, not caring at the moment if you noticed how fast it was beating.

“Where are you going?”

His breath tickled your skin, not being able to help the shiver that ran down your spine – it could be blamed on the cool water or the night air, but it was really Harry’s presence behind you. His chin brushed over your shoulder, resting there for a moment.

It wasn’t until you turned around in his arms, leaving a tiny space between the two of you with just enough that when you breathed in your chest nearly brushed his, that Harry found himself truly lost for words. The water covering your skin was glowing in the dim moonlight, and he tried not to think too much about the few thin pieces of fabric that were separating the two of you.

“I want to try something.” You whispered, eyes flicking away from his for a moment to look up at the sky, before moving down to his again.

His breathing stopped, mind reeling with what you could possibly mean. Although slowly, he let you slip from his grasp and sink deeper into the water a bit, before pushing yourself up from the ground and laying your head back in the water as you moved to float on your back.

Your eyes focused on the stars above you, loving the clear sky and lightly disconnecting from the fact that you were floating in water, instead feeling like you were floating along those stars. You should feel cold by now, but you really didn’t. Your skin burned from where Harry’s skin had just been on yours, if anything you felt hot at the moment.

For what seemed like the thousandth time that night, Harry felt like everything was moving in slow motion. He dragged his eyes down your exposed body, the water on your skin glistening in the dim light. What little clothing you had on was slipping in the water, the swell of your breasts nearly exposed from under the thin fabric as you rested on your back.

He watched your eyes shut, a complete silence seeming to surround the two of you and he felt so completely at peace, deciding to follow suit and move to float gently on his back next to you.

Neither of you really knew how much time was past like this. It could’ve been less than a minute for all you knew, but it felt like an eternity. Like you had fallen asleep and this was your dream.

Eventually though, you woke up. Goosebumps were starting to rise on your skin, the cold of the water finally catching up to you. Moving your leg out to the direction that Harry was, lightly kicking him in the water as you wordlessly regained your footing in the water.

“Getting chilly,” you hummed, hugging your arms to your chest.

Harry truly could not help it when his eyes briefly dropped to where your chest stood out, hoping you didn’t notice or say anything, a deciding to blame his slip up on his state of mind. “Let’s get you warmed up then.”

The two of you wadding out of the water, jumping over to your discarded clothes. You were hit with the realization that all you had with you was you dress. It was long, going down to your shins but it was still sleeveless and probably wouldn’t do that much in keeping you warm, especially with wet skin.

“Did you want my sweatshirt?’ You briefly wondered if you had voiced all your thoughts out loud, as Harry handed his big sweatshirt over to you.

“What about you?”

“I brought my jacket, remember?” He grinned, reaching down to grab the light coat sitting against the sand. “It’s really no trouble,�� adding afterwards, obviously noticing you were unsure.

“Okay,” you spoke slowly, realizing you were still nearly naked and quickly pulled on your dress before grabbing his sweatshirt. “Thank you.”

Your dress was sticking to you, nearly uncomfortably but you didn’t mind too much. Harry’s shirt was soft and warm, the perfect thing you needed to be wrapped in right now. You watched Harry pull on his trousers and zipping on his jacket. He looked a bit silly with a jacket and no shirt, but you were not one to comment considering that you were the reason he looked so silly.

You sat down with a sigh, shaking out your hair briefly, not caring that it was going to be a bit of a mess as it dried. Harry sat down next to you, silent for a bit as you both sat unsure of what the next move was.

“Do you want to,” looking over at him for a second, nearly nervous. “Smoke a bit more? Don’t really feel it anymore and this has been one of the nicest highs I’ve had in so long.”

“Sure,” Harry smiled, wiping his hands on his pants. “You’re right, it is really nice. It’s like,” he paused, thinking over his words. “Not completely stoned and out of it, but just relaxed. Feel like all my senses are heighted. My head is clear, but everything is a bit…slow.” Like all my senses are on fire, he wanted to say, but still found it in himself to sensor his words.

“Yeah.” The word was a small whisper from your lips, nodding along as he perfectly described how you felt.

“Plus,” he tapped his leg with yours as you pulled your small pipe from your bag. “Makes it better to get stoned with you. No one else I would float around with.”

Even in the cooler summer air, your body warmed at his words. “Same here.” That was all you could say.

He watched as you picked small buds from the container, quickly shutting your grinder and giving it a good amount of twists until you were satisfied. Nimble fingers plucking the plant from the grinder and placing them in the bowl of the pipe, making sure no ash was stuck in it. Gently placing the closed grinder on your lap, fishing your lighter from your bag and offering him the pipe for the first hit.

Hand wrapping around yours as he grabbed the pipe from you. You watched his lips pucker, bringing the pipe up, quickly flicking the lighter as he inhaled the smoke through the pipe.

There was something about watching someone look so peaceful as the exhaled smoke. Seeing Harry do it though, was always especially nice. He always tilted his head up slightly, jaw tense as he blew the smoke out from parted lips.

Passing it over to you, as you repeated his motions and he repeated yours as he watched you exhale.

Continuing in silence, passing the pipe back and forth a couple more times before you opened back up the grinder to add a few more pieces of the plant. Harry watched you light the bowl again, unable to take his eyes away from where you mouth met the pipe.

He had an idea. One he had had a while back actually, but it seemed to be a much better idea right now. It was the oldest trick in the book. A tale as old as time.

“There’s something I was always curious about,” he started, voice slow as he watched your every move. Turning to him with a lazy grin, handing him the pipe and watched as he fidgeted with the lighter.

“Have you ever shotgunned smoke?”

Your lips curved into a smile, knowing exactly where he was going. “Yeah… years ago when I was younger, like at parties.”

He hummed at your words, slowly nodding. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head, lips pressed to a line as he bit down on them. His eyes were bleary, and hair starting to dry in every direction. “I’ve never tried,” he started slowly. “Always had been curious if it really worked or not.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh, imagining the words he was going to say next. “Can’t really pinpoint if it does…”

“Well,” he shifted his body bit more towards yours. “We could try? You don’t have to of course, I’m just –”

“Curious.” You said the word for him, nodding. “Yeah I – if you want.”

“Okay,” his voice had dropped to nearly a whisper as he tried to not sound too eager. You moved towards him, so that your body was facing him a bit more, while still sitting close enough that your leg brushed his.

He brought the pipe up to his mouth, eyes stuck on yours. He slowly inhaled the smoke, cheeks hollowing and eyes briefly fluttering shut. Keeping his mouth closed as he moved the pipe away from his mouth and brought his other hand to hold a gentle grasp of your jaw.

Your tongue quickly darted out, wetting your lips and leaving them parted. His hand under your chin was warm. He knew very well this was probably some kind of line that would be crossed, but that was kind of the point, wasn’t it?

Titling his head down, mouth parting open to meet yours. His eyes shut closed, knowing this technically wasn’t a real kiss but wanting to treat it as such.

Your lips were soft and warm, and for a moment he forgot that he was supposed to be passing the smoke from his mouth to yours, and not kiss into your mouth until he couldn’t breath.

Harry was always warm around you. Being wrapped in his sweatshirt, having his hand on your jaw, and having his mouth against yours had you burning hot. You could feel him start to pull away from you after passing the smoke from his mouth to yours, and you couldn’t help but pucker your lips the slightest bit.

He was sure he imagined it. Your lips had barely moved against his, he wasn’t sure if it was real or not. It was as if you were about to kiss him, as if your lips were about to pucker and slide against his.

Instead, he moved his on yours. All very brief and very light, he kept his hand by your jaw and held you in place, just as you made no sign of moving away. Pressing just a small kiss on your parted lips, letting his mouth linger on yours before slowly moving away.

Watching you blink your eyes open as he did the same, completely unable to help the small smirk that grew on his lips. Letting out a little breath as the smoke escaped your mouth, unable to look away from Harry.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, a moment a bit too long.

He broke the silence with a little laugh. “Did you… feel anything?”

You knew he was talking about the weed, on the surface he was anyway. But you also knew that he was so obviously hinting at something more, at that little almost kiss and you couldn’t find it in yourself to form one coherent thought.

“Yeah,” seemed to be the only thing you could utter right now, stuck in some kind of staring contest with him. His hand moved from your jaw, shifting a bit to sit back in his original position. You were a bit fucked out, more than a bit.

The high was the kind that made you feel calm, like you floated when you walked. Like you were sitting on a cloud instead of having to use your limbs. And, it was the kind of high that made every glance and touch that much more electric, every conversation that much more intimate.

And now sitting so close to Harry, neither of you speaking and seemingly stuck in this trance with each other, you felt like your entire body was on fire.

Though the longer the silence went on, the calmer you got and soon you were nearly laughing to yourself for no apparent reason. Relaxing in your seated position, leaning up against the log behind your backs.

Nearly at the same time, each of you looked down to the pipe that remained in Harry’s hand. Noticing it was mostly ash, and that you had both probably had enough to smoke, you decided to pack it all back up.

“Think I’ve had enough,” you hummed, feeling your high settle in nicely. Harry nodded, twisting his body around to knock out the ash from the pipe behind him. “Same here. Also I’m really starting to feel the cold.”

“You good to head back?” Brushing your hands on your dress, gathering everything up in your tote bag before turning over to Harry.

Nodding, suddenly remembering that he would be staying over at yours. That conversation felt like ages ago, like the two of you were two completely different people now than you were before. “That sounds good.”

The walk back was even quicker, both talking about whatever came to mind. You were aware of the way his arm kept brushing against yours, the way he would slightly pause the conversation when you would glance up at him.

Leading Harry up the steps that led to your door, relaxing once you entered your studio and immediately grabbing two glasses of water as you guys had emptied the bottles you brought.

“I think I have some clothes you could borrow.” You mused, finishing water as you watched Harry from across your kitchen. “Some baggy basketball shorts that I have.”

“I’m sure it’ll do,” Harry laughed, suddenly remembering how uncomfortable he was in his current clothes. His boxers had dried since your swim, but his pants still felt damp and sticky to his skin, and he wasn’t about to sleep in just his jacket. Or even his sweatshirt, but he was more than fine leaving that with you if that’s what you wanted.

You disappeared around a corner, no doubt going to look for the shorts in question. You had easily found them, happy to be true to your word, and grabbed a shirt and shorts for yourself to change into.

“Hope they fit,” you hummed, oddly aware by how quiet your apartment was. “Did you want to shower or anything?”

He shook his head, big smiling still playing on his lips. “I probably should, but I honestly really don’t feel like a shower right now.”

“I get that,” you agreed with a laugh. “The washroom is right over there. Towels in the cupboard under the sink if you need one, feel free to use anything in there.”

He only smiled over at you again, before heading to the direction that you pointed him to. You knew that you always felt a bit uneasy when you were staying over at someone’s house unplanned, especially if you had never stayed at their house before. You hoped Harry felt comfortable.

While he was in the washroom, you cleaned up the clothes that were haphazardly thrown across your floor by your bed, making sure there were enough pillows and blankets. He quickly reappeared, in nothing but that pair of your shorts.

They fit him okay, clearly a bit snug on him but you pretended not to notice. Placing his clothes on your counter, watching as you stood back up to face him. His hair was sticking up all around his face, very much unstyled after getting wet and drying outside.

“So, my couch is obviously really small,” you murmured. “It’s easiest to just share the bed, if that’s good with you.”

“Yeah of course,” he couldn’t help the smile at the thought of sharing a bed with you all night long. You nodded, telling him to make himself comfortable as you went to change in the washroom. You didn’t realize how high you were in that moment until you caught sight of yourself in the mirror.

Your eyes heavy and red, hair a mess, looking a bit silly in a long dress and big sweatshirt. Unable to help the laugh that overtook your body, washing your face and teeth before changing. You blinked slowly in the mirror, unable to focus on any aspect of your face as you always thought it was so weird when you were faced with your appearance under the influence.

Shaking any odd thought out of your head, and leaving the washroom to find Harry already made at home in your bed. He was off to one side, phone in hand and under the blanket.

Harry’s eyes jumped to you as the bathroom door swung open. You looked warm, even in a teeshirt and shorts, but you looked calm and relaxed and it made him ease onto your mattress as bit more. You sent him a smile, turning off the light by your washroom but keeping your bedside lamps on. He noticed you had quite a few lamps though your place, oddly placed around where your bed was.

“Did you want a snack, or want to watch something or…?” You trailed off, ever the host even if you couldn’t fully process your thoughts.

“I’m okay, just kinda nice to sit back y’know?” He acted as if he was tired, although oddly feeling the most awake he’d been all day.

You slid into the sheets next to him with a little nod, glad he agreed with you. Although, you felt like it was quiet, so quiet. Didn’t you usually talk more? You couldn’t remember. Being stoned with Harry was something that had happened countless times, and you were always comfortable with him, but right now you couldn’t help feel the slightest bit nervous.

The bed was soft around you, the faint smell of sandalwood incense lingering in the air. As soon as you settled in next to Harry, leaving a gap, you felt slightly more intoxicated. You knew you weren’t, that it was just the fact that you were finally lying down without any distractions (except for the man next to you), that the weed made its full affect known to you.

Making yourself comfortable on your mattress, completely in your own head.

Your nervousness was fully realized, when the feeling of the dull ache building between your thighs made itself completely known. Something that happened after smoking and was very much not helped by the memory of Harry’s lips pressed against yours, and apparently as soon as you fully relaxed next to him it, made itself known.

The subtle throbbing was overly distracting, attempting to squeeze your thighs together subtly and trying not to think about it. Realizing you hadn’t said anything in a bit, only readjusting yourself and squirming in the bed next to Harry.

“Are you okay?”

Harry’s voice was low and if anything, it made you feel even more antsy.

“Yeah,” muttering, as you shifted on the bed again and moved onto your side with the pillow pressing against your cheek. “Its just kind of… hot.”

If he caught the double meaning in your words, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he mentally paused for a second before his hand moved without his mind. He shifted a bit so that he could fully face you, as he brought his hand over to you and brushed his fingertips along your cheek.

“Burning hot,” he whispered, eyes focused on yours as he watched every reaction you had to him. You blinked quickly at his touch, just as he shifted on the mattress as well to lay facing you.

He trailed his fingers away from your face and down to your shoulder. Rubbing small little circles over your arm, moving along any line and curve in skin and muscle that was exposed to him.

“Feel’s nice,” you murmured, eyes shutting gently. Not so much in exhaust but in content. And although the feeling of his skin on yours was sending continuous little jolts through and under your skin, you didn’t want him to stop. It definitely wasn’t helping with the ache between your thighs, praying he didn’t notice at the way you shifted slightly to squeeze your legs together.

His fingers trailed along your folded arm, moving down to your hand that was resting by your face on the mattress. No words were shared, but you moved your palm to face upwards and let him play with your hand.

Mindlessly playing with each others fingers, your eyes peaking open as you grabbed his fingers in your hand, lightly tracing lines up his palm. Flipping his hand around in yours, tracing around and playing with the rings that he was still wearing.

Index finger trailing over his individual digits, your lip slipping between your teeth. You always noticed his hands, always working quickly when rolling joints, holding you warmly, and now toying with yours mindlessly as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“What are you thinking?” Harry apparently knew you better than you realized, and maybe it had been slightly odd that you were completely silent. He could see your eyes flick over his skin, narrowing and brow furrowing every once and a while.

Your bleary eyes jumped up to his own, pausing as you registered his question. “I – it’s nothing.”

“Seems like its something,” he murmured, hand squeezing your own.

“It’s a secret,” weakly stated, watching Harry’s lips twitch with a smile at your feeble words.

“I’ll tell you one if you tell me yours,” he muttered, eyes flicking away from yours for a moment. You laughed lightly at the juvenile nature of his words, finding yourself agreeing to him.

“Okay…”

Your hesitation only made him more curious. His eyes narrowed on you, anticipating your answer and watching every thought run across your features. “I – the high, the weed, it made me a bit… hot.”

“Y’already said that.” Harry was surprised by how hoarse his voice came out, mind jumping to conclusions about what you meant (even though he was right).

“I mean,” you couldn’t hold his intense eyes anymore. “Hot. You know… randy.”

He spluttered a laugh at your choice of words. “Randy?”

Your hand left his, covering half of your face with it instead with a little laugh. “It’s embarrassing.”

Although it really wasn’t. And you would be way more embarrassed if it wasn’t for your state of intoxication, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you were fairly sure Harry was feeling the same way.

And he was. Had been all night in fact, had been every time the two of you shared a bowl and you sat just a little too close to him, or stared at his mouth just a little too long.

“You said you had a secret too.” Your voice broke Harry out of his reverie. You were barely peaking up at him, and Harry once again felt like he was living in a movie, scenes unfolding in front of his eyes in slow motion.

“I can’t stop thinking about your lips.”

He propped himself up on his elbow a bit, able to fully glance down at you. You blinked quickly at his words, rolling over to your back seemingly deep in thought. You looked perfectly fucked out, eyes heavy and a big lazy smile lining your lips. “And what about it?”

He wanted to wipe that stupid smirk from your mouth. “Need to kiss you again.”

Suddenly your hand was behind his neck, prompting him to lower his face down until his mouth gently slotted over yours. His mouth was just as warm as it was before, softly kissing onto your top lip as he leant his body over yours.

You rolled towards him a bit, as his chest covered yours, legs lying next to yours on the mattress. The hand that wasn’t holding him up came down to your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin. Lips sliding over his, letting his tongue lazily brush against your mouth.

Sigh making its way from the back of his throat, reveling in the way you felt against him. Unable to get this out of his head since he shotgunned that smoke, since the beginning of the night, since the past couple of months in fact, finally happy to have under him with your lips pressed together.

Your fingers were weaving through his hair, other hand grabbing at his arm and tracing blind drawings on his skin. Kisses were growing deeper from soft sucking lips, grazing into each other mouths. He was sweet, like a raspberry, not too sugary and just sour enough to make you want more.

You didn’t realize you were gasping for air until he briefly pulled away, eyes fluttering open and lips curving to a lazy smile while peering down at you. His breath was heavy against yours, body sliding over a bit more so that his leg pushed its away between yours, not completely crushing you.

Another second passed, before you were chasing his mouth again. Easily falling back into the heavy kisses you were sharing, pulling more and more out of each other until soft whimpers were being shared between your mouths.

You don’t know if it was the weed or just Harry – probably a bit of both – but every touch on your skin was like a little jolt of hypersensitivity. His hand had moved down your arm again, grabbing at your waist, your hip, until his fingertips were just pushing up under your shirt and gently rubbing into the skin at your side. His bare legs were tangled with yours, not yet brushing where you were burning for him but making you feel like your legs ended and his began, not a single ounce of distance between your bodies.

And his mouth, his pretty mouth that you so often watched wrap around the butt of a joint, or the end of a pipe, was making you feel like you were in a dream. Moistened lips never leaving yours, experimenting with you as they pushed and pulled on your own. Teeth nipping you bottom lip, quickly peppering small kisses against your mouth before licking deeply into your mouth again; it felt like you might pass out from the overwhelming sense of his kisses.

You marveled in the way he grunted when you pulled on his hair, or whined when you moved your lips away form his for even a second. He was so enamoured with the way you pushed your chest up with a little back arch as his fingers gripped your particularly tight, and the soft woodsy scent of your room mingled with your sweet perfume.

He felt completely woozy with every sensation of you.

Just as he was running out of breath once again, he felt your hand snake up from his arm up to his shoulder. “Wait,” you breathed out against Harry, patting his shoulder. He quickly retreated from your mouth, eyes flicking between yours.

“Sorry I –” he cut himself off at your breathy giggle and wide smile.

You smacked your lips together, accentuating your point. “My mouth feels really dry.”

“Oh,” Harry breathed out a little giggle, head dipping down slightly. “Mine too.”

“I’ll grab us some water.” You patted his chest again, wordlessly telling him to move off of you. He complied easily, rolling over to his side and watched you slowly push yourself off the mattress, feet hitting the floor.

Your hair was untamed from your dip in the water earlier, eyes glazed over and lips kissed even darker. Harry watched the fabric of your shorts ride up your thighs, exposing just the slightest bit of your backside and his mind whirled with the memory of you nearly naked with him in the water.

Taking a second before pushing himself up from the bed, following to where you stood in the kitchen filling up two glasses of water. Silently handing him one of them, keeping his gaze with a little smile dancing on your lips while you brought the glass up to your mouth.

Tipping the glass back, he mirrored your motion and watched as you quickly finished up the water. Bringing the back of your hand to wipe at the water on the corner of your mouth, Harry didn’t know why the small and mundane move made even more blood rush to his bulge.

Refilling your cup, finishing off your second glass before turning back to Harry. His hair was sticking out every direction, eyes a bit red and small smile permanently etched on his lips. He reached out a hand across the kitchen, silently asking for you to place your own hand in his.

He pulled you towards him, laughing as you spun on your feet a bit until he had both his arms around you again. His bum hitting the counter behind him as he leant against it, pulling you close into his chest as you mirrored his actions and wrapped your arms around his middle.

“Feel better?” Chest vibrated against yours as he spoke.

“Yeah,” your voice was a whisper. “Mouth feels… wet.”

“Wet?” His eyebrows shot up, dimples on full display at his wide smile. “I like the sound of that.”

It was very apparent to you that he liked the sound of that, his hard bulge very obvious in the too small shorts you gave him, and even more apparent when his pressed his hips against your thigh. You only hummed at his words, reveling in your closeness as your nails dug into the bare skin of his back.

His lips quickly found yours again, wanting to pick up right where you left off. You weren’t giving him back the same fervour, pressing smaller pecks to his mouth and letting him chase your mouth. His lips brushed over yours but you tilted your head away as soon as he leaned it for more, hushed giggled leaving your parted lips.

A little groan building in the back of Harry’s throat at your teasing, seeking out your mouth. Growing impatient, he held you tight and in one motion spun you around so that you were now the one against the counter, trapped in by Harry’s body.

“Much better,” he muttered against your lips, catching the little smirk that he had every intention of kissing away.

You sighed beautifully against him, pressing your hips against his own and feeling the very prominent bulge that had been growing in his pants ever since your little dip in the water. Every inch of him that was on you was sending a new wave of heat under your skin. Unable to distinguish what was real and what was an effect of the weed making you feel like Kissing Harry was the only thing to keep you alive.

And then he was kissing you again. One hand still gripped at your hip, while the other moved to cup your face and tilt it towards his. His lips slid against yours slowly, kiss growing in fervour very quickly. Your hands found their way back to his hair, tugging and scratching your nails along his scalp.

Pitched whine was pulled from your mouth, his warm chest pressed against you, kiss a bit frenzied as hands seemed unable to rest on one spot on your body. Grabbing at your hip, sliding over to your ass with a little squeeze and prompted you to push your hips against his.

Other hand sliding up under your thin shirt, fingers rubbing into the skin of your tummy. His lips moved to press kisses along your cheek, urging your head to tilt back until he was licking and biting at the sensitive skin of your neck. His mouth was hot on you, whispers of your name while you whined up at the ceiling. Head dipping down until his mouth met the collar of your shirt, taking his sweet time to memorize the sweet smell of your skin and every spot that made you whimper his name.

Suddenly stepping back from you, your eyes fluttered open as if in a haze while you searched for his touch again. He was standing just a couple inches away from you, hands still resting at your sides under your shirt.

“Let’s get this off of you, baby.” He whispered, pulling tightly on the fabric of your shirt.

Lifting your arms up in the air a bit, surprised by how heavy they felt, you tilted your head at him. “Help me?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. Hands slowly pushing up under your shirt, bunching up the fabric while he exposed more of your skin. Brushing over the swell of your breasts, lifting your arms a bit higher to allow him to pull the garment over you completely.

Shirt ending up on the counter next to you, forgotten completely when Harry’s eyes roamed over your skin. The bralette that you were swimming in already left little to the imagination, but no daydream or fantasy could do you justice.

“You are,” he sighed, closing the little gap once again as his thumbs ran over the underside of your breasts. “A dream.”

His hands palmed over your chest while he kissed you, your teeth clashing as you whispered your name against him.

Taking your time kissing him, hand sliding over the expanse of his back before you reached the small curls hanging above his neck, tugging on them between your fingers. He was licking into your mouth, pulling soft sighs from the back of your throat while he kept you pinned against the counter with his hips.

Hand on the band of the shorts he was borrowing, you slid a finger underneath and quickly released it to snap the elastic against his skin. “Come back to bed?”

You had caught him slightly off guard, pushing against his chest so that he took a step back and you slid out from between him and the counter, pulling at the waistband of his shorts again.

Shooting him one more glance over your shoulder, starting to walk the short distance back to the bed. He quickly followed suit, pitched gasp leaving your lips as he took you by surprise, arms gripping you tight and pulling you onto the bed with him.

Falling on the mattress on top of him, readjusting yourself so that you had a leg on either side of his waist, your bare chests pressed against one another.

“Quite like you like this,” Harry hummed, as your lips kissed at his jaw. Leaving small bites on the side of his neck, moaning at the way his hand moved to grab your ass, giving it a light smack.

Clothed core rolling against his crotch when he repeated the action, spurring you on while your mouth kept working on the skin under his jaw. “Like you like this very much.”

You had nearly forgotten about your state of intoxication, until Harry wrapped his arms tight around your waist and sat up. You shifted down bit on him, straddling his lap as the two of you sat so closely intertwined. You didn’t even register the movement until seconds later, your mind needing to slow down from the quick movement.

“You good?” You face must’ve expressed your dazed mind, while Harry’s quiet voice broke you out of your reverie.

“Yes,” you said, unable to help the little laugh the accompanied your every word. “The weed is just… this is such a nice high.”

“It really is,” Harry hummed, while you dipped your head down and ghosted your lips over his shoulder.

“Do you remember that time I got so spaced out, couldn’t hold a conversation?” You giggled, lips brushing his neck as you moved your head away and kept you arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Shifting on his lap a bit, chest resting against his as you couldn’t help the laugh that was building at the memory. His thumbs rubbed parallel circles in the spot above your hips, lips smoothing over your hairline. “Which time?” He was quite frankly finding it hard to think of anything else at this moment.

“There were a few,” you nodded, head moving away from the crook of his neck. “But with those edibles, those chocolate cookies remember? There were walnuts or something in them.”

You shifted on him, lifting yourself up for a second to straighten out your legs, completely sitting on his lap and wrapping your legs around his hips to have the two of you sitting pressed against the other. Harry sucked his lips in between his teeth, as you moved over just where he wanted you to.

“Those one’s yes,” his shoulders shook with a laugh. “I’d never seen you so out of it, was a bit worried.”

Tightening your thighs around him, squeezing him lightly. “I fell asleep practically on top of you,” murmuring softly, recalling when he had let you have his bed since you weren’t having a good high.

Your laughter had more or less died down, smile hadn’t left your lips all night and it was the last thing he saw before his eyes fluttered shut when you moved in to kiss him again. You hummed softly against him, Harry’s hands rubbing up and down your bare sides, before sliding all the way down and dug his fingertips into the skin of your bum.

Grinding your centre over his bulge, soft moan building in Harry’s throat at the tight pressure. The only way you could be any closer to him in this moment was if the two thin layers of clothing were removed, which you were promptly working on.

Your legs wrapped all the way around him, hips rolling against his as his hands guided you over him. You were sighing into his mouth, teeth biting into his top lip before he dipped his head down to kiss under your jaw.

And suddenly, hands that let go of your skin pushed you back against the mattress. You blinked in your daze, eyes trailing up over Harry as he sat up on his knees, before swiftly hovering back over you. Lips finding their place on your neck once again, humming against you.

Whimpering as his mouth moved down over your chest, lips circling around your nipple with a harsh suck. Your hands flew to his shoulders, fingertips trailing up to play with his hair while his mouth moved over are your exposed skin.

Warm and wet kisses followed suit, open mouth lightly biting down on your skin. He was whispering mindless things against you, just making out small praises.

Your hips were lifting against nothing in the air, urging him to pull off the little shorts as his lips trailed over your stomach. Large hand grabbing at your thigh, pushing it out as his head moved past right where you wanted him and his lips kissed up your thigh instead.

“Harry,” his name was a whine leaving your lips.

His eyes flitted up to your face for a second, mentally kicking himself for not doing it sooner. Your bottom lip was firmly lodged between your teeth, eyes barely open but a little smile still playing at your lips. He thought you looked fucked out before, but this was something completely new.

“What do you want?” Open mouth biting down at your thigh, quickly licking over the spot as your hips jolted again.

“You. Please,” you propped yourself up a bit on an elbow. “Touch me.”

Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He hooked his thumbs in the band of your shorts, your hips quickly jolting up to help him pull them over your hips. Quickly pulling them down, flicking them aside without a care once they were pulled over your feet.

“Truly a dream,” Harry’s mouth dropped, shamelessly dragging his eyes over every inch of your body. Hand quickly back on you, pushing your legs apart until your knees hit the mattress. “A dream,” he repeated, leaning back down towards you. His lips on your inner most sensitive skin of your thigh, hands holding your hips tightly.

One of your hands smoothed over your own stomach, fingertips just over where you wanted to feel him. You could feel his breath hitting your skin, a sharp inhale as your middle finger teased yourself just above your clit. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Just,” your voice was a moan. “Showing you what I want.”

“Christ,” the word came deep from the back of his throat, prompting you to lift yourself up a bit and watch him. He didn’t move from his spot between your thighs, cheek resting just on your sensitive inner leg with his palms spread over your hips, watching your fingers move down through your folds.

“Is this what you do after we smoke together?” His voice was slow, deep – dark eyes unwavering from you. You felt his breath hit your skin, hips jolting a bit as you tugged harsher circles onto your clit. “Can’t wait to fall into bed with your fingers under your dress?”

You could only moan at his words, feeling the heat of his chest on your legs and his fingers brush against your thighs, but nothing more. “Tell me, do you ever think about me?”

“Yes,” the word was a quick pant, answering him truthfully. His finger gripped you tighter at your answer, barley audible swear to himself.

Middle finger slowly dipping down, feeling how slick you were before moving back up to circle around your clit. You jolted at the feeling, falling back against the mattress with your eyes fluttering shut and Harry’s name on your lips.

“And what do you think about?” His voice was slow, the smirk on his lips nearly audible. “Tell me baby.”

“How you would feel,” you spoke in one long breath. “You – your fingers, your mouth.”

It wasn’t until you slowly pushed your finger into where you were aching, that he grabbed hold of your wrist. “Let me do that,” he hissed, pulling your hand away from yourself and slipping his mouth around the finger that had been playing with yourself.

He hummed around it, getting his first taste of you and only wanting more.

Soon that hand was weaved through his hair, as his tongue pushed through where your finger had been and he circled his lips around your clit. “That’s it,” you gasped, when his teeth just grazed over the sensitive bud, tongue smoothing over it.

“Could do this all day,” Harry’s voice was muffled, getting nearly as much out of this as you were. “You were right about being wet.” Soon his fingers joined his mouth, soaking in your wetness before pushing through your core. Every whine was laced with his name, spurring him on at your praise.

He only hummed against you, just as his lips circled around your swollen clit eliciting a sharp cry at the end of your praise. Fingers pulling tightly in his already messy locks, not caring about the roughness of your actions in the moment. All you could focus on was how you felt completely on fire by the way Harry touched you

Sucking harshly around your clit, hand that was trialing up your thigh joining his tongue as it pushed through your folds, finger slowly pushing into you. He reveled in the way you were slick around him, clenching around him at the new contact. “Oh… !”

Single finger quickly curling up and hitting that spot that made your eyes squeeze shut, noticing the way you reacted right away. “That’s it, yeah? Is it good?”

“So good.” Your hips bucked with his hand. But you wanted more, his finger wasn’t enough inside of you and you were certain he would feel so thick and heavy inside of you. Gently nudging his head up, calling his name over.

“Can we,” you panted, “I mean – I want to fuck you.”

That caught his attention. He blinked slowly, your words circling around his head. “I –” he found himself speechless. “Yes, I want you.”

Scrambling up to his knees, as you sat up as well, both breathless and wordlessly facing each other for a second. “I don’t have a condom.”

His expression faltered at your words, quickly realizing he also didn’t have one. “Me neither…”

“I have an implant. I’m checked out I’m good… I – want to feel you.”

“Fuck me, darling you…” this for sure had to be a dream. “Are you sure?”

Your hands slid up his sides, resting at his shoulders as you pulled him in for a heavy kiss. “Yes.”

It was your turn to push him back, hands immediately reaching for the band of the tight shorts and pulling them down. Throwing them aside with your own shorts, watching his length fall free. Your mouth was probably hanging open, you didn’t care. He was a dream.

You didn’t even realize you were moving your hands towards him until you saw them wrap around him, thumb brushing over his bulging red tip as you smoothed over the bit of precum. Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of you, watching in awe while you slowly pumped your hand around him.

Leg swinging around his to straddled him, wet core grinding down over him. You leant to trap Harry’s mouth in a kiss, while his hands gripped your sides tightly before sliding down to your hips. One hand still around him, glancing down as you lifted your hips.

Both of you were watching the way that you sank down around him, slowly but surely taking every inch in. “Baby I –” Harry hissed, restraining himself from bucking up into you.

The pressure burned, but not in a bad way. Maybe if you were sober you would need a bit more time to get use to him, but right now you just needed more of him. “Oh my god,” your voice was pitched, eyes shut as you felt him twitch inside of you.

Bottoming out, you felt him deep in your stomach as he hit spots you didn’t know were possible. “God, ‘s full.”

His hands found their place on your bum, squeezing tightly when you made your move on top of him, slowly rolling your hips around him. Your own hands were flat on his stomach, giving yourself leverage as you started to move up on him.

“That’s it,” he hissed, watching you sink back down, slowly getting a feel for him. You were circling your hips, grinding and rolling on him. It felt too good he forced his eyes to stay open, not wanting to miss a second of the sight in front of him.

Watching the way he disappeared underneath you, the way your breasts moved, the way your head was titled back slightly. He knew it was impossible but he wanted to keep you in this moment forever.

It was when he bucked up into you that your eyes rolled back with a moan. Repeating the action at your reaction, holding onto you tightly as he thrusted upwards into, while you rolled against him. Managing to hit inside of you so wonderfully, feeling yourself stretch out just for him. “Fuck Harry.”

The pressure he was creating in the pit of your stomach was already building, your hips moving together as you both felt on fire from every touch, every whimper, every moan of the others name. “My name – y’sound so good saying my name.” His words were strangled, you weren’t even sure you were hearing him correctly.

“Harry,” whining as a hand smoothed over your ass, urging you on top of him while his other hand grasped at your chest.

Low moan breaking the noise of your pants, your walls fluttering around Harry as you quickly found yourself being pushed closer and closer to your orgasm. Unabashedly chasing the high, the burn between your legs stronger than you think you’d ever felt it.

You knew part of that was from the drug previously smoked, but another big part of that was from the man lying under you. Harry fit so perfectly with you, fucking you so well you couldn’t even begin to think about it.

Hovering down over him, open mouth pressing messy kisses up his jaw until your mouth was on his, slowing down your motions of your hips for a moment as the two of you got lost against each other’s lips.

Harry’s thrust nearly stopping, the slow roll of your hips being the only source of friction while you tasted him for the thousandth time that night, still not finding yourself getting enough.

It was when his hand on your ass smacked your skin lightly, that he started to spur you on again. Teeth clashing with yours as he spoke against your mouth, praising you endlessly. “Look so fucking good around me baby.”

Moaning into his mouth, rising yourself up with your hands played out over his chest, rising your hips up and down over him again until your heart rate sped up again and you couldn’t help but pant.

Harry couldn’t believe the sight before his eyes. Every noise you made was music to his ears, as his fingertips dug into your skin and thrusted his hips against yours, looking for the spot that made you curl around him.

He knew you were close, and he wanted more than anything than to see you completely thrown back on top of him. Moving one of his hands around your hip, smoothing over the bottom of your stomach, sliding his fingertips over your skin until they made contact with your clit.

You were already so worked up from the way his mouth had moved against your cunt, from even before then when the two of you lay close together in bed, from even before then when the two of you swam together.

One of his hands sliding around your hips from your ass to your stomach, pressing tightly onto your lower abdomen until his hands cupped over you. Fingers finding your clit easily once again, your chest jolting forward at the sharp jolt of pleasure the new contact made you feel.

“Want you to come.” His words were hoarse, slick fingers pushing rough circles around your clit until you dropped down a bit against him, arms shaking by your sides. “Please baby.”

And then your eyes were peering into his, red and bleary with your skin burning hot. “Harry I –” mouth falling agape, not being able to find any words at the moment, when yours and Harry’s hips moved in sync, the tip of his cock hitting inside of you so perfectly and his fingers on your clit giving you just the extra push you needed.

His other hand was gripping the skin of you ass, fingertips digging crescent shaped marks into the skin as he rocked your hips with his. Lips were ghosting over your neck, with your own not far away, nearly biting down into his shoulder.

And soon you were shaking on top of him, whimpering his name unashamedly as your walls fluttered around him. Your thighs clenched him tight, vision going dark and you didn’t realize at first that it was because your eyes were squeezed shut.

Harry was muttering into the skin of your shoulder, sweet words of praise. “Look so fucking good, you are a dream,” moaning your name deeply, holding you tight against him as both your motions slowed a bit while you rode out your high.

Eyes reopening after a beat, lifting your head to look down at him. His fingers were still working slow circles on your clit, skin far too sensitive as you jolted against him. You wanted to say so much to him, yet found not ability to think of what to say or even how to speak.

So instead, your open mouth slid over his, messy kisses shared before you hoisted yourself back up so that he was hitting so deeply inside of you, knees digging into the mattress to start to move against him again.

“Fuck me so well,” Harry’s head was pushed back into the pillows behind him, skin clammy and shining, tattoos looking even better in the dim light. His hair was sprawled out and around his face messily, his lips kissed deep raspberry. Truly something out of a fantasy.

He moved slower with you than earlier, hips just rising from the mattress to meet your thrusts in languid motions. There surely should be a cramping feeling in your knees, but you didn’t feel it, or more so couldn’t. All you could focus on was the way your walls fluttered tightly around Harry, already feeling the dull burning of a second orgasm.

“’s sensitive,” you moaned as his fingers never stopped on your clit, urging you along with him as he knew his own orgasm would not be far behind.

“Take me in so well baby, wish you could see yourself,” his eyes glued to every inch of your skin, especially where he was so intimately connected to you, cock disappearing into you. “How do you feel?”

“Too good,” you cried, overly sensitive but still finding yourself wanted more and more and more from Harry.

“Want you to cum again.”

“Harry…” the feeling was overwhelming; you didn’t know if you even could.

“Feel so good cumming around me, please,” his voice was unbelievably hoarse, lips tight between his teeth.

The deep fire was building in you again, even stronger this time and Harry was very aware of it by the way to you clenched tightly around him. He wanted to see you come undone so badly, sucking in his breath and doing everything in his power to slow down his own release.

You lifted yourself on him, pace quickening a bit as he pressed you on. He was rubbing so tightly in you, the two of you truly finding your grove as he repeatedly hit the spongy spot that made you see stars.

“Cum for me,” he said, as if it was a chant. “Need you to.”

You were so overstimulated; you didn’t even know what to do. “I don’t know if – fuck Harry it’s so much.”

Falling back onto his chest slightly, hitting a new angle inside that made you move quick short thrusts on top of him.

His lips quickly found your skin, sucking and biting onto your neck as he wanted nothing more than to have you come undone around him for the second time. Your name sounded heavenly as he moaned it.

You knew he was not far behind, his motions getting more and more sporadic, sound of slapping skin filling the room as his chest heaved. “Please.”

And then you were pushed over the edge again, jolting so quickly against him it nearly scared him. You fell completely against him, bare chest pressed tight onto his it trapped his arm. The moan that came from deep in your chest was barely human, breathy and loud and Harry knew it would be playing on replay in his head for the rest of his life.

“Thank you thank you thank you.” Harry’s orgasm followed suit quickly after yours, not being able to hold back when you clenched to tightly around him he could barely move. Slow thrusts he released inside of you, feeling his cock twitch with every drop.

He slid his hand from between your body’s, falling to his side on the mattress as neither of you made another move, chests moving quickly as you tried to catch your breath. You could’ve passed out right then and there, completely content with Harry as close as he could possibly be.

Slowly blinking your eyes open, head moving up to gaze down at Harry. Teary eyes blurring your vision slightly, offering him a sly smile as you shifted off a him with a heavy sigh.

“That was…” Harry’s voice cracked as he turned his head towards you, unable to take his eyes off of you “Better than I could’ve dreamt.”

***

The first thing you felt when you woke up was the same grogginess you always had after a restful night sleep. That, along with a strong arm wrapped around your middle, some breaths gracing your neck.

The second thing you felt was a slight panic of not knowing what time it was.

Fearing maybe you had overslept and might be running late for work, you scrambled up in bed while you tried to figure out whether or not there was a shift to get to.

Your sudden action had stirred Harry in his sleep, groggy eyes peeking open at your from where he laid next to you on the bed.

“Wha’s wrong?”

Deep voice pulled your attention away from your confused thoughts about which day was it really, feeling the mattress shift as Harry rose to a seated position.

You felt his breath hit your shoulder, an arm circling around you and lips on the nape of your neck. “I have to get to work.”

“You do?” His lips trailed across your neck, chest pressing against your back as he his craned around to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Yes – fuck.” You sprang up suddenly, catching sight of the mainly decorative clock that you had hanging up on the opposite side of your studio.

Rising to your feet, Harry’s arms falling down to the mattress as the two of you lost contact. It wasn’t out of nowhere that you’d smoke on a night before you had to get up and get ready for work, after all it was a half day shift today but you were usually in bed and fast asleep not too late.

“I’m really sorry,” you called out from behind you, as you quickly dug through your drawers to look for a new pair of underwear. “I completely forgot…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry spoke softly from where he sat on the bed. He didn’t voice it of course, but he really did wish you could crawl back in bed with him. By the looks of the hazy orange sky, the day was just starting and he’d much rather start it with his arms wrapped around you.

It really was no worries, you couldn’t do anything about the fact that you had to get to work. Rising up to his feet, watching you half naked scurry around your studio in search of clothes to wear, pulling them on and then quickly off against as you seemed to change your ideas about your outfit.

You rushed off to the washroom, mentally scolding yourself for not showring last night, at least to get refreshed. Realizing that your hair was what it was, not able or having the time to tame it all that much and did what you could.

Quickly going through your routine, brushing your teeth and dotting on some makeup, re-emerging from the washroom to find Harry dressed and helping himself to some water.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, as he turned to face you at the noise of the washroom door opening.

He beamed at you, quickly placing his glass back down on the counter. “Don’t be, really no need to apologize. Can I drop you off or anything?”

You paused, returning his smile. “Yeah that’d be great actually! Thank you.”

And soon you were sitting in the passenger seat of his car, giving him directions to you work. You wished your morning hadn’t started like this, you wished that you could stay in bed and have some coffee with Harry, but instead you were a disaster rushing off to work.

He got you there in record time, even with a few minutes to spare, just before 8. Bag in hand, facing Harry with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry again…”

“Stop apologizing, darling.” And although he was ever so accommodating to rushing you off to work, he still missed you touch on his.

Just as you were reaching for the door handle of the car, his hand gripped your forearm. “Wait! Just –”

And he was leaning over the center console, other hand cup your jaw and was pulling your lips to his. “Just wanted another taste.”

Leaving a short sweet kiss to your lips, breaking away with a grin and the minty taste of your toothpaste. “I’ll see you soon.” Returning his sentiment, the image of his wide grin etched into your brain for the rest of the day.

Thinking over the previous night; the smoking, the swimming, the sex.

It all seemed too good to be true, but the left over feeling of Harry’s lips on yours very much reminded you that it was real, and you really couldn’t help the little smile that grew at the thought of it.

The ghost feeling of his body underneath yours, his hands gripping your tightly and his lips moving all over your skin. It was something you had secretly thought about before, usually in an inebriated state after sharing a pipe with Harry, and you were truly hoping Harry felt the same.

***

You didn’t get that confirmation until nine days later, both finding time in your schedules to head back to that little beach by your place.

He greeted you on the sidewalk in front of your apartment like last time, sunglasses on and big smile adorning his lips. “Hey,” extending an arm out, inviting you in for a little hug.

“You look nice,” he muttered into your hair, as you circled your arm around him.

“Thank you,” you hummed, both starting the small walk that led to the water from your street. You easily fell into conversation, catching up over small things like how work was going and anecdotes about your mutual friends.

The both of you made yourselves comfortable at that same spot you had last time, laying out the tapestry to sit on.

“I brought snacks,” you reached over to your back, pulling out a couple containers – some filled with fruits and another one with crackers and hummus. “

“Stunning,” Harry reached for the food you had pulled out, reaching for the cut orange slices.

“Did you want to smoke, or…?” Harry’s expression didn’t change as you asked him. You didn’t know why you felt nearly nervous, as if this wasn’t the first time the two of you spent time alone together.

“Not really,” he finally said, leaning back on his elbows and extended his legs out, looking out in front of him. “You go ahead, I just…”

He never finished his sentence, and you just hummed in agreement, deciding not to smoke either. Quiet music filled the little silence, before you guys once again easily feel into conversation while you snacked away.

It was comfortable, and you liked the way he sat so close to you, your legs resting on his. The sun was still out and shining, small breeze keeping you cool, filled with the warm smell of the air around you.

Eventually you were both lying back on the blanket, you on your back and Harry on his stomach right next to you. The only sound between the two of you was the music coming from Harry’s phone. He had his arms next to yours, aimlessly trailing fingertips along your skin just as he had the last time you were together.

Arms hanging by your sides, fingers moving from your arms to trace patterns over the fabric of your shirt. He lifted his head for a moment, mouth opening as if to say something but no words came out.

You didn’t notice at first, but by the third breathy sigh coming from his lips, you realized he was tempting to say something. “What’s up?”

“Nothing really, just thinking.”

“What about?” Moving up a bit on your elbows so that you could sit up, watching his hands fall down from your body and onto the towel under the two of you.

“I just –” he paused, head turning away from yours for a second before meeting your eyes again. “I really like spending time with you, you know that right?”

You warmed at his words. “I think I do, yeah.”

Just making out the smile that played on his lips, before he turned his head away from your, resting on his opposite cheek. You kept your eyes on him, feeling as though he had more to say but instead mindlessly played with a thread that was fraying from the blanket.

“Was that all?” You eventually spoke up, nudging his back with your arm. He shifted his head, taking a second before he faced you again.

“What?”

“Was that all you wanted to say?” You knew you were teasing him, watching a red blush splatter across his cheeks.

He shifted again, rolling over from his stomach to his back, bringing a hand up to his forehead to block out the sun while he kept his gaze locked up towards the sky. Mouth falling open, taking another beat before he spoke.

“Seemed kind of inevitable, didn’t it?”

“What?” You had no idea what he was talking about. Sitting up, slightly, resting on your folded elbows to hold your upper body up.

“I just mean…” he sighed, head rolling over to look at you. “Us. Seemed a bit inevitable no?”

Your smile grew. “What do you mean inevitable?”

His cheeks grew even redder. “You know what I mean. Smoking together and all, could never get enough of you.”

It was your turn to warm at his words as he kept speaking. “And I do like smoking with you, and spending time with you, and…” he trailed off, silently saying that he really liked being intimate with you.

“And?”

He lifted himself up with a laugh, leaning over you to press a small kiss to your shoulder. “And had extra fun spending time with you that night.”

“So did I,” your voice dropped down to a whisper, his face close to yours once again.

“And,” he continued, eyes gleaming. “I like not smoking with you too. I just,” he paused again. “Like being with you.”

He had the widest grin you’d seen on him, and you were sure that your face was mirroring his expression. Bring a hand up to his neck, pushing some hair that was hanging a bit lower through your fingers, before pulling him in for a slow kiss.

Lips naturally slotting over yours, encompassing your mouth with his as he sighed against you. “I like being with you too,” you hummed, pulling and nearly feeling intoxicated all over again with out even having to touch a drug.

Harry’s mind slowed, watching your lips curve into a smile before meeting your eyes again. He loved the little laugh that laced your words, the same one you had when you smoked too much and couldn’t form a sentence due to your own laughing. Better than any dream.

#hope u enjoy ❣️#please let me know what u think !!#and rb / share it with your friends share it with your neighbour #!! okay bye #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut

2K notes · View notes

solohux · 3 years

Text

Armie’s All-Plants VS Falcon Burger Co.

for @crylorenhuxy who wanted a rival food truck au

The centre of town is bustling with people on this cold winter’s day as the countdown to Christmas has begun and the yearly market have opened for business. The long, pedestrianised run of high street shops welcomes sellers from all over the country, all organised in two parallel lines ready for shoppers to browse.

Kylo’s burger van—Falcon Burger Co.—is located halfway down the shopping boulevard, offering good ol’ greasy burgers at reasonable prices. He’s a hit everywhere he goes, having queues of hungry carnivores clamouring for his food just as they were when his father owned the business before him but with Han passing just over a year ago, Kylo took over the family business with pride. He even named an item on his menu after his father; the hanburger, a classic cheeseburger with an aged-beef patty, strong American-style cheese and topped with a kick of spice and a toasted brioche bun. Customers who knew old Mr Solo as the owner of the van were amused to find a burger in honour of Han, and it’s Kylo’s most popular item.

Things have begun winding down for the day. Business has been good today but Kylo could do with a few more sales before he packs up.

“Fancy a burger?” A passer-by asks her partner, pointing excitedly to the menu on the side of Kylo’s van. He readies himself, adjusting his apron and putting his prep gloves on.

“Not today, babe,” comes the reply, shaking her head. “The new vegan van that’s been all over Instagram is here! Look!”

Kylo scowls, watching as his two customers leave him and skip over to the green-and-white van that trades opposite him, going to stand in the line of hungry people.

In such a busy and important event in the town’s calendar, Kylo should have known that the stuck-up owner of Armie’s All-Plants would be here too. All day, Kylo has had to watch the obnoxious man serve his vegan burgers to people and then watch their expressions as they seem to love his food. The ginger-haired owner of the van is a smug bastard, eyeing his rival from across the street every time he hands a plate of vegan food to a customer, making Kylo want to hurl a beef patty at his handsome face like a Frisbee.

He wonders whether the ginger’s name is indeed Armie or not. He looks like enough of a posh boy for his name to be a strange one.

The passers-by had said something about Instagram. Kylo does have an account but it’s his own personal one that he uses to spy on his sister and her boyfriend and to follow his favourite chefs for cooking tips. Whilst he hasn’t any customers, he takes out his phone and opens the app, typing the name of his rival van into the search bar.

Armie’s All-Plants does have its own page with thousands of followers, posts about how he creates all of his own recipies. It would seem that the man’s name is Armie—Armitage—and Hux is his surname, a young entrepreneur who came from nothing after his father disowned him as a result of his illegitimacy. Kylo’s heart sinks, looking at the posts that have been created by Armie, telling his story. Suddenly, he doesn’t seem so stuck-up.

“Uh, hello?”

Kylo jumps, dropping his phone as he fumbles. How long has he been ignoring a customer? He squats down and picks up his phone, shoving it back in his pocket.

“Sorry,” Kylo says, placing his hands on the counter and trying to act cool. “I was just—”

But his words—and his body—freeze upon seeing a pair of green eyes staring at him, ginger hair slicked back with precision neatness.

It’s the vegan.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Armie says. “But I’m just about to close for the day and you looked hungry. I thought you must be a little sick of burgers after serving them all day so I made you this.”

The man places a little green cardboard box—100% recyclable—on top of the counter and pushes it towards Kylo. It’s decorated in white leaves, the same design as Armie’s food van, and it takes all of Kylo’s mental energy not to unleash his preconceptions about vegans and about Armie himself on the polite man.

“Thanks,” Kylo says, flipping the box open to find a grilled tortilla inside, wrapping something green inside.

“It’s hummus and avocado,” Armie says, stepping back. “My own recipe, of course. I’d better be going. See you tomorrow, Mr Falcon?”

“It’s Kylo.”

“Right. Kylo,” Armie nods, smiling softly. “Bye.”

Armie turns and walks away, strutting across the street with his ankles showing at the bottom of his brown pants. If this were Victorian times, Kylo would be scandalized at the sight of such intimate skin, though he admits that he’s looking a little too hard at his ass, squeezed nicely into his trousers.

Kylo could punch himself. This man in his rival, stealing away his customers with his prissy, delicious vegan food. The bite of the wrap in Kylo’s mouth explodes with flavour, almost making him want to moan. He feels like a bit of a traitor for a moment, dishonouring his father’s hard work by complimenting a rival and eating his food within the four walls of his own burger van but Kylo can’t deny the taste or how good it felt to not be riddled with burning hatred when he looked at Armie’s handsome face.

There’s a fine line between love and hate, and the bridge over the line is good food. Kylo can’t wait until tomorrow.

#kylux #benarmie #modern au #food truck au #m:writing

65 notes · View notes

charincharge · 4 years

Text

I Don’t Want To Wait, three

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

Based on the prompts :

Subtle glances at each other but they don’t notice Everyone else knows how they feel Where one of them subconsciously copies the others movements.... For Rowaelin HS au (of course)

Person A sneaking things into the cart when Person B isn’t looking. I thought of Aelin sneaking some chocolate sweets 😂

“Ace, control yourself.”

Rowan removed the family-sized bag of assorted chocolates from their grocery cart and replaced it with a smaller one. Aelin pouted and widened her eyes, hoping that her puppy dog eyes would distract her best friend, but he remained resolute. He walked a little further down the aisle and placed a bag of trail mix into the cart. Aelin picked it up and frowned.

“Ro, there’s not even chocolate in this!” she whined, and Rowan rolled his eyes. “Who eats trail mix without chocolate? That’s a crime against humanity.”

“Some of us have lacrosse nationals to prep for and might want nutritious snacks.”

“You can have all the carrots and humus you want,” Aelin laughed, grabbing two bags of potato chips and a can of queso.

“You’re never going to make it through this all-nighter if you eat that crap,” Rowan chastised, but Aelin merely flicked him off in return.

“Please. My body runs on grease and sugar and caffeine,” she bragged. “I’ll be fine.”

Rowan’s eyes slowly perused her body, and Aelin resisted tugging at the hem of her cropped hoodie, studiously ignoring Rowan’s pointed gaze.

“It is kind of insane how true that is,” Rowan said, eyes still affixed to the few inches of exposed skin between her jeans and top. “You’re a medical marvel. Doctors should study you.”

“I exercise,” Aelin huffed in response, and Rowan barked out a loud laugh. As a varsity athlete, Rowan’s exercise regiment bordered on extreme – a five mile run every morning, lacrosse practice every afternoon, followed by weight lifting.

“Says the girl who uses cramps to get out of gym every other week, and then the week you actually have your period.”

Aelin snorted loudly. “It’s not my fault that Coach Hammel doesn’t know anything about the female reproductive system.” Aelin frowned. “And by the way, it’s weird that you track my period.”

She watched as Rowan’s ears turned pink, but he rolled his eyes regardless. “It’s for my own protection. I need to know when to steer clear, otherwise you might mistake me for a piece of chocolate and bite my head off,” he said, poking her in the ribs.

Aelin could feel herself heating up, imagining how delicious Rowan might taste with some chocolate on him.

Since Aelin’s birthday, it was as if her hormones were constantly going haywire. Some sort of teenage hormonal glitch, for sure. Her lust for Rowan had blossomed, and she was no longer in control of her thoughts or her body’s flustered reactions to his presence.

Since their weird, too-close slow dance just a few weeks ago, Aelin had kept track of every time Rowan had touched her. Her body was just… hyper aware of him.

It wasn’t as if Rowan hadn’t touched her before – no, the pair of best friends had always been comfortable with each other in their casual physical intimacy. But suddenly, it was driving Aelin insane. To the point of distraction. She’d written down every pinch and tickle and arm slung over her shoulder with a time code into her diary, just to organize how frequently he touched her.

It wasn’t even that the touching was inappropriate. No, it was completely innocent, but she couldn’t stop herself from wondering if it meant something. Like, maybe Rowan wanted to kiss her too?

She mentally clocked another one to add to her diary – Tuesday at 5:12pm: Rowan poked her side in the grocery aisle.

To combat her rising flush, she diverted her attention to their full cart, overflowing with every kind of junk food from frozen pizza to cookies to tubs of icing to energy drinks and every snack food in between. Rowan’s healthy food section was a paltry sampling of baby carrots, hummus and now his gross, chocolate-free trail mix. They had exactly what they needed for a late night of cramming for their world history exam.

As they made their way to the front to pay, Aelin took a quick moment to replace the bag of chocolates with the family sized one. Rowan didn’t notice until she placed it on the conveyer belt to pay, which he noted with a loud sigh.

“You’re a menace to society,” Rowan he said, squeezing her side.

As Aelin paid, Rowan brushed by her again, his fingertips ever so slightly caressing the bare skin of her back, flustering Aelin completely. Her cheeks heated as she fumbled with the credit card in her hand. Gods, she could not get her lust under control today. How many times had she blushed in this shopping trip alone? But also…

Was that necessary?! She wanted to scream at him as he took his place at the end of the belt to help bag groceries. She looked up at the cashier, who was looking at her with a knowing smile on her face.

“Huh?” Aelin asked, not having quite heard the cashier.

“$83.78,” the cashier repeated, glancing quickly at Rowan and then back at Aelin.

“Right,” Aelin mumbled, ignoring the cashier’s pointed look and swiping her dad’s card quickly.

Rowan hoisted the bags onto his broad shoulders and led the way back to his car, completely oblivious to Aelin’s most recent spike of arousal. Luckily, Rowan was unable to touch her over the large center console of his jeep, and Aelin propped her feet up on the dash, giving herself some space to cool down.

But as he put on his driving playlist, her eyes unwittingly slid to him. She couldn’t help herself. Somewhere over the last six months, he’d grown about four inches and had started filling out his lanky body with actual muscles. She glanced at her best friend’s face, noticing his long blonde lashes and sloped nose and his silver-blonde hair, in desperate need of a haircut, falling ever so slightly into his dark green eyes.

“Why are you staring at me?” Rowan asked, never taking his eyes off the road. He was nothing if not an overly cautious driver.

Aelin leaned forward and poked her thumb against his cheek. She briefly wondered if Rowan was cataloguing every time she touched him, too. She doubted it. Instead of saying anything incriminating, she went with something ridiculous.

“Do you think you’ll ever need to shave, or are you too blonde to grow facial hair?” she asked, causing Rowan to scowl. He leaned his head down and lifted his shoulder, trapping Aelin’s fingers. She laughed loudly, wriggling her fingers, but she didn’t try hard to remove them. Why would she?

“Why, you think I’d look good with a beard?” Rowan asked, and Aelin crinkled her eyes trying to imagine him, even more grown with a full face of stubble. She just couldn’t.

She must have been making quite the disgruntled expression, because Rowan looked immediately offended as he released her hand from its hold and snapped at her free fingers with his bared teeth. Aelin squealed and pulled her hand back into her lap. “Rude,” he said, pulling into Aelin’s driveway.

“Your dad just left,” Elide announced, barely waiting until the jeep was in park to pull the door open. “He said not to burn the house down.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. That was her dad’s sign off every time he left to go to work. Aelin had started one tiny fire while attempting to cook dinner alone one time, and her father had shown up with the entire Orynth Fire Department in full gear, ready to rescue his daughter from certain death. He’d never let her live it down. She was OFD legend.

“What’d you get?” Lysandra asked, rifling through one of the grocery bags. “Oh! Stuffed crust,” she said with a grin. “Have I mentioned how much I love you?”

Lysandra batted her long lashes at Aelin, slipping her arm around her friend’s waist as Aelin led them all into the house. Another arm tugged at Lysandra, pulling her away, and Aelin laughed at Lysandra’s annoyed squeal with her boyfriend.

“Wes, go help Elide set up our work stations,” Lysandra ordered, and Wesley immediately pouted, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend’s waist even tighter, nibbling at her neck.

“But I’m so hungry,” he complained.

Lysandra pushed his face off her as she narrowed her eyes with warning.

“You get that snack after you help me ace this exam,” Lysandra smirked, and Wesley nuzzled his chin against her shoulder, pulling her closer.

“This is a PDA free night,” Rowan groaned, unloading his healthy snacks. “You promised.” He wagged his finger at the amorous couple, who, since losing their virginities to each other over spring break had been completely inseparable. At the mouth and the groin.

Wesley kissed Lysandra one last time before taking a large step back.

“Just because you’re not getting any,” he grumbled, “Don’t be a killjoy.”

Rowan’s mouth dropped as he continued to plate his carrots. “I could get some… if I wanted…” he mumbled under his breath, causing both Aelin and Lysandra to burst into laughter.

“Sure you could, Buzzard,” Aelin said with an overzealous wink. She grabbed her bags of chips and queso and left a flustered Rowan in the kitchen.

Aelin plopped down onto the couch and groaned at the extensive schedule Elide had written up for them.

“I’ve broken up our schedule into twelve, forty-minute long increments,” Elide explained, tying her dark hair up into a bun. “If we stick to the schedule, we should be fully crammed in… eight hours.”

Aelin pouted as she opened her chips. She knew she was in for a long night, putting Elide in charge of the study schedule. But… eight hours? That meant they’d be studying until two in the morning.

Elide clapped loudly as she started handing out flashcards. “Let’s go, team.”

Six hours later, Aelin was ready to collapse. It was approaching midnight, and they’d made it through nine of the twelve study sections. Only three more to go until freedom. She knew she was supposed to have thoughts of Elirea history swirling through her head, but since Rowan took his place on the floor next to her, she was having a hard time concentrating.

“You know what we need?” Wesley said, twirling one of Lysandra’s chestnut curls around his fingers. Aelin shrugged. “A bowl,” he said. “I always study better when I’m buzzed.”

“You think my dad wouldn’t be able to smell weed as soon as he walked into the house? The man is like a bloodhound for smoke,” Aelin replied, trying to ignore the way Rowan leaned back into her in agreement.

“Gods, I can’t wait to smoke a giant bowl after lacrosse season is over,” Rowan said, resting his chin on top of Aelin’s head.

“Pack it for two, Buzzard,” Aelin said with a laugh, and she could feel Rowan nod against her scalp.

“What about ice cream instead?” Elide suggested. “I think we could all use a sugar bump.”

Lysandra jumped to her feet, moaning loudly as she stretched her arms above her head, her back popping with each subtle movement. Aelin watched as Wesley practically salivated, getting a glimpse of her lacy bra strap. He grabbed at Lysandra’s thigh, and Aelin laughed as she kicked him off gently with a wink.

“Soon, babe.”

Aelin’s filter must have disappeared with her exhaustion because upon looking at her two friends she shouted out, “You two cannot fuck in my house.”

“Please, I’m classier than that.”

“Are you?” Aelin asked, causing Rowan to snort into her hair.

Lysandra blushed but ignored Aelin as she swayed her hips all the way into the kitchen. She reappeared with three pints of ice cream and five spoons.

Aelin immediately grabbed her favorite flavor, Half Baked, and stuck her spoon into it. Her lips wrapped around the cold metal and she couldn’t help but moan loudly at the fudge brownie bite.

She nearly protested as someone else stuck their spoon into her pint, but she stopped herself when she saw it was Rowan.

“Sugar? Really?” she asked. “You must be really tired.”

She watched as Rowan smirked in response, taking a large bite for himself. Aelin’s throat dried as she watched his lips wrap around his spoon, his tongue peeking out and licking the remainder of the ice cream. How was it possible that he made ice cream look pornographic?

“Yum,” he said softly, and took another bite for himself.

There was something weirdly intimate about sharing a pint of ice cream. One pint, two spoons. Aelin completely missed the tenth section of Elide’s schedule because she was too focused on the way Rowan was eating next to her, occasionally knocking his spoon into hers.

When they got to the second to last section, Aelin realized she’d forgotten her notes upstairs. Grateful to have an excuse for some space to cool down, she made her way up to her bedroom to search for her notebook. Even though it was exactly where she’d left it – on her desk, Aelin couldn’t resist the fluffy allure of her bed. She looked at the clock, almost one am. She was so, so tired.

Knowing her friends would absolutely send someone to find her if she didn’t come back downstairs in a few minutes, Aelin risked getting into bed, huddling under the covers for a very quick power nap. Sleep found her quickly, and before she knew it, she was being woken up by soft whispers and laughter.

“Should we wake them?” she could hear Elide ask, and Lysandra’s chuckled reply came quickly after.

“No, don’t wake them.” A long pause. “They’re so cute.”

“And stupid,” Wesley drawled.

Aelin went to roll out of bed, but she found herself pinned down by something heavy. She cracked her eye open and was shocked to realize that Rowan was on top of her comforter, arm flung around her shoulders, deep asleep next to her. His light snores made Aelin smile.

Aelin moved her head over her shoulder, only to see her three friends standing in her doorway, staring at the sleeping friends, wide grins plastered to their faces.

“We sent him to bring you back an hour ago,” Lysandra explained.

Aelin glanced at the clock. Officially 2am. They must have finished Elide’s study schedule. Shit. Well, hopefully Aelin could remember enough of the other topics to do well on this exam. Despite her movement, Rowan didn’t stir once.

“Just leave a note for my dad downstairs that Rowan is here?” Aelin asked, not feeling particularly inclined to move out of his grasp at all.

“Done.” Elide nodded. “Already texted Aunt Maeve, too.”

“Love you,” Aelin mumbled out to her friends, already letting sleep overtake her vision again.

“Love you, too,” Rowan mumbled in his sleep, sticking his nose into Aelin’s hair.

Aelin ignored her friends’ snickering and closed her eyes and burrowed into Rowan’s soft shirt. Inhaling deeply, she was asleep before she even heard the front door close.

~*~*~*~

AN: I’m starting a ToG tag list. Please let me know if you’d like to be added to it HERE (replies in notes tend to get lost, so if you’ve asked to be tagged already and you’re not, please don’t hesitate to ask again!)

tag list:

@df3ndyr

@hizqueen4life

@maastrash

@justgiu12

@aknymph

@bamchickawowow

@thewayshedreamed

@strangeenemy

@studyliketate

@iammissstark

@heirofthenightcourt

@acourtofmarauders

@cmoff1

@stardelia

@b00kworm

@wordsafterhours

@m-like-magic

@the-third-me

@cursebreaker29

@annejulianneh111

@queen-of-glass

@aesthetics-11

@x3hopelessdreamer

@illyrian-velaris

@galyxsy

@cool-ish-nerd

@althelkingshorses

@rockgirl321

@westofmoon

@sanakapoor

@louiseleblancdiggory

@superspiritfestival

#rowaelin #high school au #charincharge writes

265 notes · View notes

moonysbitofmagic · 3 years

Text

A wolfstar oneshot based on how my parents met, because I love the story a lot. Muggle au, takes place in Israel. Lots of Israeli slang is used - translation will be provided at the bottom.

“Adonai, not this one too!” Remus huffed to himself, observing the sign in front of him. It had been a mere month since graduating film school and arriving back to his hometown of Jerusalem before he decided that he wanted to travel yet again. The obvious first choice would have been to go back to London - where several job offers were waiting for him like yellow lights in traffic. Instead, he chose the northern outskirts of Tel Aviv: a smaller city named Herzliya. He had studied there too but completed almost half of his degree before realising that he wanted to experience more to life than the simple one he’d had in Israel, and the transfer to a school in London became quick.

Now, his feet in the warm sand, his golden hair feeling hot in the sun, and a backpack strapped onto his shoulders, Remus realised how much he had missed Herzliya. The sign in front of him only proved the changes that the city had gone through since his time away, and he crossed his arms in annoyance. It hung on a metal fence peacefully, reading in black letters and messy cursive: ‘This beach is closed. Trespassers will face prosecution.’

It wasn’t the first thing that had closed down. The only thing nearby, though, was a hotel that had long gone out of business, so what did he have to lose? With minimal effort, he placed his left foot in one of the fence holes and jumped over the metal barrier. He was alone at the beach - but what else did he expect?

Remus sat down on the warm sand and exhaled. The smell of saltwater and midsummer was one he had missed during his time studying in England. The August sun and sound of waves crashing against the shore became comforting as he leaned back, taking off the backpack from his shoulders. Upon resting the canvas bag on his lap, he reached into the thing and began to rummage through the items within. A biography about Alfred Hitchcock was quickly found with a happy sigh, taken out of the bag with the same speed it was found, a green bookmark detailing where he last left off was discarded beside him as he opened the book and began to read about his favourite director on the peace of the seashore.

It wasn’t long before the evening eventually crept upon Remus and his stomach began to rumble. His mother had always taught him to bring food wherever he went, and the decision to bring falafel pitas and oranges with him suddenly felt lucky. But upon setting his book down next to him and reaching into his backpack, he realised that he was no longer alone on the beach. He must have been too invested in his book to notice that a curly-haired man was now surfing along the waves of the ocean, standing upon a bright red surfboard in such a stance that looked both serious and laughable, finally crashing into the depths of the water with a splash.

Remus was barely into his falafel pita when the man finally came out of the ocean, red surfboard in hand, eyebrows raised.

“You could face prosecution for being here, y’know,” The man spoke, eyeing the fence behind them before looking back at Remus with a smirk. His voice was oddly soothing, his wet brown hair was swept over his face, and a black wetsuit hugging his body. Remus had seen countless people like this before, perhaps it was only his tiredness that made this feel a little stranger.

“Could say the same about you, mate,” Remus smiled back at him in amusement. “But since you’re here, may I interest you in an orange or a falafel pita?”

“Orange pita? Strange choice, achi. I’ll take the falafel one.”

“Nu, you know what I mean,” Remus chuckled, motioning at the few oranges laying on the sand. He searched through his backpack for another one of the falafel pitas he had made that morning. With an ‘a-ha’, he pulled another one out of the bag and handed it to the man as he sat down next to him. The surfboard was now reclined on the sand and utilised as a footrest for the two men as they ate. “Be ta’avon.”

A moment of silence ensued before the man turned to Remus and spoke, “So stranger-”

“It’s Remus, actually.”

“So Remus, what inspired you to break the law on this lovely day?”

“Stam. I used to live here. Came here with friends a lot. Wanted to visit again,” Remus spoke in between bites. “You?”

“Surfing, I came up here for the weekend,” the man pointed to the surfboard with his free hand. The other was occupied with the pita, a bit of hummus even blemished some of his face from eating the thing so swiftly. Remus couldn’t help but quietly laugh to himself at the sight.

“You don’t live here?” He asked the man.

“Nah, I live in Be’er Sheva-”

“-You drove an hour just to surf here?”

“Worth it, though, wasn’t it, motek?” The man winked at him, taking another bite out of his pita. By then, the sun was beginning to set on the horizon. It tainted the sky a pretty orange hue and made the ocean look dark red upon their collision. Remus regretted not bringing a sweater - it wasn’t particularly cold, just breezy. The man’s hair was now dry though, and the curls seemed especially prominent. Along with that and the nickname, Remus felt a blush coming to his cheeks. “I’d come here every day if I could, but I made the wonderful decision of studying at the med school in Be’er Sheva after the army, so here we are.”

“Ah, doesn’t sound hellish at all!” Remus chuckled.

“Shut up! I was a nurse in the army, it isn’t that bad,” The man laughed in return. It was required of all citizens to serve in the army for two years once they graduated secondary school, and the experience was just as unpleasant as it seemed. “You studying at the Center?” The man continued. He was referring to the Interdisciplinary Center - a well-known university residing a few blocks away.

“I actually studied at a film school in London, you wouldn’t know it,” Remus beamed. His falafel pita was far finished, and he was now beginning to unpeel one of the oranges he had also brought.

“Mah pitom! Maybe you can make a film about my life, eh?” The man poked him, a grin wide on his face. Remus liked him - a lot, actually. He seemed entertaining and funny and he was cute. Oh my god, he was cute.

“That’s going to be a bit difficult, especially considering that I don’t even know your name. So…”

“It’s Sirius, which honestly sounds very James Bond-ish.”

“Sirius: The Spy Who Loved Me. You’re right! Now all we need is fifteen million shekels and Pierce Brosnan.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

And they began to discuss the film and their lives and university and falafel and whatever else bubbled to the surface. It was the first time Remus felt truly welcomed in a while, to be quite honest - aside from a few close friends, university was difficult for the sole reason of how different England was from Israel. Sirius seemed to get him and his middle-eastern humour and he definitely didn’t judge him for his accent (not like Remus had one right now, he was speaking his native language). By the time the sun fully set and the sky was dotted with stars, the food Remus had brought was completely finished and he was happily worn out.

Standing up and stretching out his arms, a satisfied exhale escaped his lips. Sirius stood up and did the same.

“Let me walk you home,” declared the man, a wide smile on his face.

“Two problems: first, I’m staying at a hotel. Second, I don’t let strangers walk me home.” Remus frowned, picking up his backpack from the sand.

“I’m not a stranger, you know my name! I know yours!”

“We still only met a few hours ago,” Remus said. A sincere look was in his eyes, secretly hoping that Sirius would walk him home or that he didn’t have to have this stupid rule. But it was for his own safety, as much fun as that day had been. Perhaps they would see each other again, which Remus honestly wished to happen.

“Alright, fine. But if you’re not here next weekend…” Sirius eyed him hopefully. He was looking more earnest than ever.

“I would be more than happy to break the law again for you, Sirius Bond.”

“Wonderful!”

Remus climbed over the metal fence and walked away from the beach with a massive grin and flushed cheeks.

TRANSLATIONS

adonai: the jewish god. uh-don-EYE.

pita: like bread or a tortilla. very commonly eaten with falafel and hummus. PEET-tuh.

achi: brother. used casually, like “dude” or “bro.” ach-EE, ch is the guttural sound.

nu: come on. noo, pronounced like the first syllable of nuisance.

be ta’avon: hebrew version of bon appetit. beh tuh-uh-von.

stam: nothing or no reason. stuhm.

motek: sweetheart or darling. MOH-tek.

mah pitom: no way. mah peet-OHM.

shekels: the israeli currency.

#remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #the marauders #all the young dudes #atyd #wolfstar headcanons #marauders headcanons #James potter #lily evans #Peter pettigrew #harry potter #hogwarts #gryffindor

17 notes · View notes

elizabeth-234 · 3 years

Text

The Supplejack

Previous Chapter Eighteen: Existing

Chapter Nineteen: A Phone Call

As the weeks passed, Peter struggled in vain against the extra workload of his sophomore year classes. The balance between work, school, friends, and himself was everchanging, ever in threat of tipping off the edge of the proverbial blade. Though the latter was pushed to the side with increasing frequency and his bed was becoming more of a rare luxury much to his dismay.

The tub of tabouli, hummus, and carrots sat uneaten in front of him while Mike explained again why the discourse surrounding the new Firefly show was important to their group and the larger culture abroad.

“It’s a western in space, guys, how can you not like it? Plus, Nathan Fillion is working it. You know he’s damn charming.”   

“It’s basically a soap opera and you know it.” Midge said, arms crossed in front of them.

Mike sputtered and Ned stepped in before anyone else would get more offended. Still pouting his lips, Mike turned away from them and started shoveling down his lunch. Midge just sighed. Peter shifted in his seat wondering if he should say anything when Ned bumped shoulders with him.

“You okay?”

He forced a smile on his face. Ned waited for an answer, his eyes open and earnest. The expression made something in Peter’s chest ache. This bitter tug nestled down behind his ribs. Ned was dragged along in all of this. What started as befriending a lone boy in an empty classroom had turned into trying to gather intel from two of the biggest corporations in the world. Still, his friend was right there for him, ready and unfailingly patient with a smile.

“Want to hang out this weekend?” Peter asked instead of answering the question.

He wanted to do something. To have fun and get out of the house for once. His work shifts were pretty stacked up but it was worth it to rearrange them. Ned agreed if his answering smile was any indication.

“Yeah, dude. There’s this cool exhibit downtown about brainwashing. Maybe weird but it could be cool.”

“Sounds fun.” He said.

“Yeah, they get all these big companies to put something together. I’m surprised you know who didn’t do it. I hear Oscorp is holding one in the fall.” 

Peter rubbed his chest. The cafeteria noise rushed toward him. All the laughter and words and echoes pressed against him, weighing down. His smile felt wobbly to him but hoped it came off as sincere.

“We’ll have to check the one this weekend out.”

Ten hours later, Peter sat at his desk. His head resting in the crux of his arms crossed on the scattered papers and notebooks. He shifted in the chair and tried not to think about the coming week. The to-do list was somewhere in the mess under him. Every bullet point added another reason his headache was growing at an alarming rate.

One of the pages peaked out from under the curve of his elbow. The model car on it was dissected into the median and coronal planes showcasing all the guts. Why was he tinkering with it after all this time? No one would see it now. Red marks, newly etched into the paper some sleepless night would probably never leave this room let alone the top of his desk unless it was carried through the trash.

The thought of acknowledging he was finally abandoning the project left him gripping onto the papers tight in his palms. Even all these months later, Peter found himself tweaking their project and trying to improve upon it. Lee, the head intern, had said she was always available. Maybe he could email it over and then she could send it onto whoever her boss was? The chain of command wasn’t something he was entirely familiar with but eventually it had to land in his hands.

His phone buzzed.

Out of habit, Peter flipped it upside-down without looking to see who it was from. He tapped his finger against the wood until the sound stopped. He only just managed to sigh when the buzzing started again.

Phone calls were the worst. He hated answering the phone, hated talking over people and not seeing their facial expressions, and hated how goodbyes were always awkward. Above all he hated the way he could never talk in a coherent manner. Always felt like he was overstepping or worse in some people’s eyes, being too quiet.

Phone calls from anyone besides May were trouble. His aunt was in the living room so that meant it was bad. He could be expelled from Midtown or one of his friends could be hurt. Ned’s hands bloody. Julia’s heart stopping. Flash’s chest not rising anymore. Peter’s chest throbbed at the images. With sweaty hands he grabbed his phone off the desk and looked at the ID.

It was from an unknown number.

His thumb hovered over the green button as it rang but he didn’t answer.

If he didn’t answer it was easier to pretend nothing was wrong. The worry barely concealed by his expression was better left unfounded. He kept reading through one of his source books on mechanical engineering but the words held no meaning. His eyes kept returning to the flip phone sitting all innocent inches away from his hand.

His fingers twitched and the phone rang again.

Peter breathed in deeply before flipping it over. He read the number over again. Tried to memorize the digits quickly as if they would hold some significance the longer they were in his mind. The ringing continued and continued for what felt like forever.

His Uncle Ben came to mind. Without letting him linger for too long again, he flipped his phone open and pressed enter. The other side of the call was silent. There was no breathing or anything to indicate someone was there.

“Hello?” The crack in his voice echoed in his ears.

“Am I speaking to Peter?”

The voice was smooth - pristine in its cadence and rhythm. Unlike his own, the words were spoken with no hesitancy or irregular pitch. There never was, either. It was a voice Peter would recognize anywhere. Hearing them say his name now made him realize how much he missed them. It was a strange thought considering. How could he miss a voice so much?

He scowled. It wasn’t fair to minimize Friday to that of just their voice.

“Fr - Friday? I…How did you get this number?”

There was another pause. Peter wished he’d said something else instead of beginning with such a sharp tone. He could’ve asked how they were doing or greeted them with enthusiasm. Instead the panic from earlier manifested in more of a bark. Heat flooded from his neck up to his ears.

“I have scanned through the Stark databases and found this number on Boss’s phone.” He couldn’t help it. Peter laughed throwing a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. Friday’s silence was enough to confirm they heard but it didn’t dampen his smile.

This was Friday he was talking to. Peter couldn’t believe it and if the smile on his face was wide and almost made his cheeks hurt, he could almost forget about everything else.

“You stole my number from Mr. Stark’s phone?”

“Peter, as I said I scanned...”

“You did! Friday, I can’t believe it. Wait, is everything okay? Did something happen? Is … Mr. Sta- everyone’s okay, right? I mean you don’t have to tell me anything but is everyone…”

“Everyone’s fine. I’m sorry to have made you worry. I would also like to apologize for keeping silent. I called you friend once but haven’t acted in accordance to what constitutes that bond.”

Peter’s neck burned. Friday’s voice sounded as hesitant as Peter felt and he was glad, for once, he wasn’t in the Tower so they couldn’t hear his heartbeat pounding in his chest.

“No need to apologize. I just assumed when I left…”

“That has no bearing on it. There were other factors. Some I can talk about some I can’t.”

“Is, is this why you called? What can you talk about?”

Peter imagined Friday was taking a large breath in from the gap between answer and question. His heart, already beating far too fast for a regular school night, increased its speed.

“You need to come back to the Tower, Peter.”

His ears filled with cotton inducing a fuzzy ringing. It grew louder and louder until he found himself leaning his forehead against the desk. The phone rested where it fell on the table by his clenched hand. He scooped it up despite the trembling in his digits and brought the phone to his ear again.

“Friday?” He rasped out.

“You need to come back to the Tower. There are matters here that would… benefit from your presence.”

There were too many pauses in the sentence and a million phrases flowing through his mind in response. Following on his immediate responses were a plethora of images of the Tower. He conjured filled hospital beds, condemned signs, and most haunting, empty rooms. The worry gnawed at his stomach not caring about Friday’s reassurances. Something had to be wrong. Why else would Friday contact him? It had been months.

There was nothing more he wanted, but all he managed to say was, “I can’t.”

The pain it would bring was all too easy to think about. He’d had a taste of it at the finale internship presentations. The sheer amount of people buzzing with excitement was enough to dull the awkward hurt but Peter couldn’t forget how hard it was to breath once he was in the Tower again. The familiarity burned at his throat. What was a safe haven reduced to just some place he used to know had hurt more than he was willing to say out loud.

Friday wanted him to go back there after everything. No awards or parties would be there to distract. He would have to walk down the hallways and see the beautiful skyline only glimpsed at that height. He would have to see Mr. Stark.

What would he say? What would he do?

“I can’t work on the project anymore, Peter.”

It was devastating in its simplicity. A twist of the metaphorical knife Peter had never even felt embedded in his side. It was a rope taken away as his head sunk swiftly under water. All the progress he’d made even if he didn’t realize it, was gone in the moment those words were said.

Mr. Stark was clear. Final.

At the time there were a thousand words he’d wanted to say but then and now it didn’t seem right. Now, the sense of betrayal no longer stung because it didn’t matter that Mr. Stark knew all about the Weaver and Oscorp. In the end, no amount of explaining or conversation would fix anything because there was nothing to fix.

The steps he took through the door were some of the hardest in his life. His surreptitious glance back resulted in seeing Mr. Stark bowed and facing away from him. The frightened look crossing over his face before hardly seemed to matter in the face of those words. It told Peter all he needed to know. Peter wasn’t wanted. Who wanted to look after a confused teenager? His time there was over.

Or so, he thought.

Months and months passed and now Friday was on the other end like nothing happened. Was there an option besides declining?

He would have thought Friday didn’t know what happened but that was impossible. They knew basically everything that happened in the Tower. It could be some misplaced urge to help Peter. It didn’t make sense. Despite their reassurances, he couldn’t help but worry something was the matter and despite his caution, Peter was curious.

Still, he repeated the two words again. They sounded more like a plea than a decision.

“What you are saying is you won’t not that you can’t. I know you only have one job and the owner has already given permission. I’m asking with sincerity. I need your help…. We need your help.”

Peter took his time to exhale. He stared at the phone in his hands, tracing Friday’s number with his eyes.

He thought of all the reasons not to go back. But the latest realization barged forward. It was with surprising ease that Peter thought about all the help Mr. Stark had thrown his way. All of the encouragement and kindness he showed without Peter even understanding what was happening.

The question wasn’t if he wanted to go back. He would always want to go back. The Tower in a way had grown to be his home. A safe space he never felt drained from after being there. No one expected anything more than Peter could give and the peace of working there, flexing his mind and being with people who understood him was intoxicating.

He could admit to himself he wanted to say yes without thinking despite every reason to say no. He had to be cautious about this, he decided. Peter had to make sure he wouldn’t get hurt like before. That no one would get hurt.

“Friday, you have to tell me what’s wrong.”

Only when he knew could Peter go back. Only then would Peter step foot in the Tower again.

Enjoy!

Next Chapter Twenty:

#peter parker #irondad #peter parker fanfic #irondad fanfic #ao3 #Shy Peter #the supplejack

3 notes · View notes

the-mandalorian-clone-lover · 4 years

Text

Ok y’all, I have gathered enough nerve or something and here it is :D

This is kind of the description and then I’ll put the reference photos and the first part under the read more thingy.

Roman is a mob boss and is played by Ewan McGregor (he’s 100% a hopeless romantic and wants someone to cherish, when he finds that person he will literally do anything to keep them, not afraid of much), Erica (She wants to be loved despite her Asexuality, she is afraid it’s impossible, and she isn’t willing to do much to make it happen because she’s convinced it’s impossible) is his girlfriend. Butcher is basically Kronk from the Emperor’s new groove (because he’s enormous and adorable and I love him).

Second part here

Ok so top is Butcher, he’s probably 6′5 in my mind or more? Probably has tattoos, I’ll leave that up to your imagination. Second is Roman (who is Ewan obvs but this is about the age I picture him). Third is Erica, I picture her between 26&28 and Roman 30 or 32, so there is an age gap but it isn’t more than 4-6 years. She’s 5′11 and Roman is 5′10, that’s a surprise tool that will help us later, and yeah I think that’s about it. Story below :)

Oh– Warnings?: Talking about coming out, Erica yells a sentence or two but she’s frustrated, silly self-indulgence? Excessive tooth-rotting fluff

*************************

(The song he sings is Your Song from Moulin Rouge)

Roman’s been deep in thought in the back of the car the entire ride and Butch has finally had enough.

“Somethin’ going on boss?”

Roman sighs, “Erica texted that she wanted to talk to me instead of doing dinner tonight.” He pauses before evidently deciding to give Butch the whole story, looking at his feet as he does so. “I asked her at dinner two days ago if she wanted to be official and now, I’m wondering if it was too soon. Did I scare her off?” Roman’s eyes come back to Butch’s as he asks and for a moment he’s at a loss, thankfully Roman continues before he has to answer. “I know I tend to..” his eyes go to the window, eyes searching it as if it holds the right words “..do things a little old fashioned. Commit to each other, take care of each other, do people, not do that anymore?” He asks the question desperately and Butch ponders a moment before responding.

“Maybe not out there, but if anyone would want a little old fashioned, I think it’d be Ms. Erica.” They’ve been dating a month or so now, strictly dinner and walking in the park type dates, she had come to the pent house once, but only so Roman could give her a one month anniversary present; a necklace (it had been simple but elegant, Butch had helped pick it out).

Roman’s eyes make their way back to him, “What do you mean?”

Butch pauses, tilting his head and looking down before answering “She’s got an old soul, and she’s not the kind of woman you could get away with not treating her right.”

Roman had nodded his assent before opening his mouth but the stop of the car cuts him off.

Butch waits till they’re both out of the car before speaking again. “Do you want me to follow you up?”

It’s a matter of protocol, some days Butch sweeps the penthouse before Roman goes in, just to be sure, but at this moment Roman is pretty sure there could be snakes in his house and it wouldn’t be worse than the thought of Erica leaving him. Its early to be so attached, he knows this, but she’s so lovely and wonderful and one-of-a-kind that he hates to see her go so soon, when there’s so much he hasn’t gotten to say to her. He braces himself inwardly though, putting on a brave face for Butch.

“No, I’ll be alright, I’ll let you know if we decide to go for dinner after all.” He tries to smile but knows Butch sees right through it. Butch pulls him in by the shoulders for a hug before holding him at arms-length.

“Don’t go getting all mopey before she’s even talked to ya, maybe she’s already made dinner and that’s why.”

“It’s much too early for that, I hope she doesn’t think she has to—”

Butch is turning him and shoving him towards the door.

“Go on lover boy, face your music and don’t be a wimp!”

Roman drags himself up the stairs, feeling like a glutton for punishment at this moment, straightening himself up before opening the door. He almost regrets forgetting to knock before remembering this is his house and choosing instead to call out.

“Erica? Darling? I’m a little early, didn’t want to startle you.”

She appears in the entryway that leads to the living room, looking a little nervous herself.

“I-“ She takes a deep breath, eyes never leaving him “Thank you for having them let me in, what I wanted to talk to you about is a more personal matter.”

Well. That certainly didn’t sound like a precursor to a break-up.

“Of course” Roman responds, trying to sound as at-ease as possible. “Can I get you anything?” His eyes sweep her figure and upon realizing she’s abandoned her shoes he begins to toe off his own, leaving them next to hers in the doorway.

She’s shaking her head when he looks up. “No, thank you, I brought some cookies I made, they’re in here.” With that she turns back to the sitting room and begins to walk away. He hurries after her but tries to allow her space still. He takes the moment to look at her. She’d looked ill at ease in the foyer, a large OD green sweatshirt (that had probably seen better days) that said ‘Property of Middle Earth’ in worn white letters nearly swallowing her, hair down and falling in her face, she’d pushed it behind her ears twice as they walked. She’s wearing the black jeans she says are her favorites, everything seems to point to her dressing for comfort. She pushes the sweatshirt sleeves up to her elbows before sweeping the container off the coffee table and holding it out to him.

“I remember you said you liked macadamia nut, it’s my first time making them though.”

He nods, taking the box, also taking care to brush his fingers against hers as well as he can without raising suspicion. He takes off the lid, taking a deep breath before looking up to her in awe, “These smell amazing!” He smiles before looking down again, grabbing one to hold it out to her. “Share?”

She smiles thinly, shaking her head again, (Roman doesn’t think he’s ever seen her shake her head this much) before answering “No, I’m alright. Not very hungry anyway.”

Erica knows its not a convincing answer but what can she say? She’s been dreading this conversation ever since she started having feelings for Roman and when he had asked her to think about being officially together, she’d known she couldn’t put it off any longer. She looks at the floor again, remembering that she’s wearing her favorite sweatshirt and that if anyone from Middle Earth were here they’d be encouraging her (maybe not Sauron but he wasn’t really the encouraging type) and probably giving her an awkward thumbs up from behind Roman’s couch. She smiles at the comforting thought and looks back up at him. No matter what his response was, she’d handle it. She’d come this far. She sits down (albeit a little rigidly) on the couch behind her, and Roman follows her lead, sitting in the chair diagonal from the coffee table.

She takes another deep breath, this is it. “I’m just going to come right out and say it—”

“Do you want to break up?”

Roman’s on the edge of his chair, gripping the container and looking at her with, fear? Dread? She isn’t sure but it isn’t a positive emotion that’s etched into his face. He’s not the only one.

“No,” she says it carefully, deliberately, before continuing past what she knows is the point of no return. “But you might”.

It feels like a bomb went off. Roman actually leans back in the chair before blinking rapidly, attempting to process. “Did–“ he supposes ‘cheating’ might be too strong a word if they’re actually not even together but he isn’t sure what else they would split over.

“It isn’t something I did. It’s something I am.” Erica is resisting the urge to cry now, it doesn’t matter how many times she talks about it, it doesn’t seem to get easier when you care what the other person responds with. She’s looking at the floor when she hears shuffling and feels the couch dip next to her. She looks over to find Roman seated on the far end, reaching slowly to hover a hand above her shoulder.

“Whatever it is, we’ll work through it. It’s not as if anything is irreconcilable.” He pauses and Erica really is bracing now, nearly wanting to get up and run from the room in preparation for the inevitable.

“Unless you’re actually an orc. Or you like eating hummus. I have to draw the line somewhere.”

He says it as if it were obvious and she smiles, shaking her head before breathing out shakily. “It’s, well, its neither of those things.” She says, finally looking him in the eye, reaching up to guide his hand down to her shoulder. If nothing else, she’ll enjoy these last few minutes of comfort he offers before it’s all over.

“I’m asexual.”

Its out. And while it does take a weight off her chest, she isn’t sure it’s gone for good.

Roman blinks, tilting his head, “Tell me what that means?”

It’s a request. Not a demand, he didn’t fill the air with his assumptions, he just asked. That’s a new one.

“Well, it um,” Erica takes another deep breath, reaching out to grab his other hand in both of hers and fastening her eyes to them before spitting out the rest in a rush, “It means I don’t experience sexual attraction.”

He’d already started stroking the fingers he could reach when she took his hand hostage and he doesn’t stop when she finishes. She doesn’t move though, she’s waiting for it to sink in. Either he’ll tell her to get out, tell her that that isn’t a thing, or that he can fix her. She’s already got a plan for all three.

“Ok.” He says it as if she’d just told him it was cloudy outside. “How do you want me to respond?”

She brings her eyes back to his slowly, mouth agape. She can’t even be bothered to close it either, somehow, he’s managed to say the one thing she never expected.

“How do I want you to respond?”

“Well, I know that I don’t know exactly what you need or want to hear, so I’m asking.” He says it all so gently, as if he were trying to comfort her, as if he could sense how hard it was to say this, could he? “I want to support you” he says with conviction, “Sometimes you might have to tell me how.”

His gentle tone never fades, if anything it only sounds more genuine as he continues, moving his hand to hover next to her cheek. She leans into it, sniffing softly and closing her eyes against the tears. It’s hardly the time to cry now. Gathering herself she opens her eyes.

“You need to understand sex is something I might not ever be able to give you.” As sweet as he is, she won’t let him commit to something if he doesn’t even understand what it means. “I’ve, had,–“ now her eyes are back in her lap, withdrawing her hands from his, “experiences, but, I didn’t like them. And since I don’t have the desire anyway, it’s possible I’ll be like this forever.” She’s painting it bleakly but what else is there to say? She’s never been supported by any partner or friend and she isn’t sure she’d even know how to handle it if she was. Part of her does want to break up with Roman now, end it all before he can, give herself control of the situation before it gets any more uncomfortable.

“Why do you say it as if you were broken?”

Shock. That’s what she’s feeling, bringing her eyes up to look at Roman as if he’d grown two heads. Opening and closing her mouth twice before finally blurting out

“Isn’t that what you think?” She’s standing now, words falling out of her mouth in a rush of fear and anger, “Isn’t that what everyone thinks?! Isn’t that what you’re supposed to say? That I can’t be anything other than a robot if I don’t want” she gestures fiercely “that!? As if I wasn’t a whole person without it?” Roman is standing now but she can’t stop “As if there was no way two people could be together without doing it??” Her voice has somehow been getting louder all through her rant and everything’s getting blurry as the tears start “As if I were making the whole thing up?” He’s closer now, and she stumbles back, yelling a final, “AS IF I WASN’T A REAL PERSON BECAUSE OF IT??” before she collapses into his arms. She’s sobbing in earnest now, gripping onto him as tightly as she can. This has never happened. Every other time she’s always handled the rejection, the teasing, the downright harassment before calmly leaving and never coming back but, somehow, it’s Roman being kind to her that finally causes her to break. All the frustration, hurt and confusion finally pouring out in her tears. He’s just stroking her back with one hand, the other cradling her head against his shoulder. Between the sobs she can hear his voice, but he doesn’t seem to be saying much other than ‘its alright’ and telling her to let it out, saying that he’s here and he’s not leaving. It helps.

When the sobs subside to hiccups she wraps her arms a little tighter around him and takes a breath before sniffing.

“Can I have a tissue?” She says it as softly as she can, she doesn’t really want him to leave but she’s starting to worry for whoever does the wash. He seems to pick up on her reluctance to separate, instead taking the arm from her back to reach behind and down for the box on the coffee table. He fumbles in the awkward position for a moment, causing them both to huff in good humor before standing straight and holding it up by her face. She takes it.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all those things to you.”

She mumbles it without ever moving, choosing to reach over his shoulder to wipe her face, if he’s willing to keep holding her, she isn’t going to make him stop.

He goes back to petting her hair softly, answering in the same tone, careful to keep his voice low. “Don’t apologize. If someone said those horrible things to me, I’d be upset too.”

She sighs quietly. He must not understand still.

“But everyone thinks they’re true. That’s the problem.” She says it matter-of-factly, her arms loosening a bit to rest on his shoulder blades before he suddenly grips her tighter.

“Not everyone.”

It’s a small thing, and it shouldn’t mean anything to her, but it does. It means the whole world.

They stand there holding each other for heaven only knows how long, Erica not wanting to leave the comforting embrace that Roman is offering, and Roman content to hold her as long as she needs.

More time passes before she hears him humming, well she feels it first but then she hears the soft notes next to her ear and feels him shifting back and forth slowly. Swaying them both. Then he’s singing to her. Quietly, barely above a whisper but his voice is like honey.

“My gift is my song, and this one’s for you” he nuzzles his cheek on the side of her head before going on, still whispering gently to her and swaying softly “and you can tell everybody, this is your song. It may be quite simple but, now that it’s done. I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words,” he gets a little louder then, more confident, “How wonderful life is, now you’re in the world.”

“Elton John?” She asks, voice still a little wobbly, only slightly teasing.

“No, well, yes, but I was thinking of Moulin Rouge.”

She frowns, slowing their swaying slightly, “I thought Elton John wrote that?”

She hears a small ‘ah’ followed by “Moulin Rouge is a film, have you not seen it?”

She shakes her head against his, muttering a ‘huh uh’

“Hmm, well, then let me finish serenading you and then we can watch it, how does that sound?”

She pulls away then, wanting to look him in the face even if she doesn’t necessarily want him to see hers. “You want to stay? With me?”

He nods, brushing his thumbs across where they’ve come to rest on her waist. “I’ll admit I don’t understand it all yet but I can learn. And if you promise to never start liking hummus then we seem to have an agreement.” He finishes with a smile and somehow Erica finds herself smiling with him. Somehow, she has hope again.

“I think I can promise that.” She says, taking another shaky breath in before muttering ‘eskimo kiss’ and leaning forward to brush her nose against his, he bumps their foreheads together and then they’re both giggling. He hasn’t ever kissed her lips yet but it’s moments like this that make her certain he’ll wait till she starts it.

****************************

#asexual #ace #ace stories #ace character #ewan mcgregor #mob boss #how do i tag #*runs and hides*#*hopes for the best #aces in spaces

28 notes · View notes

constantlydiscombobulated · 4 years

Text

N.H ASK 1 - tequila sunrise N.H X FEM!READER

An afternoon with the boys is what you expected on the sunny bank holiday; it was a rare occasion that everyone was in London. You had decided to host impromptu drinks on the roof of your building. The sun’s heat shone down from the moment it licked the surface of London’s outskirts at dawn that morning. The glass shards warmed quickly making your alternative looking flat warm, almost sauna like.

You had made a quick effort to prepare minimal beverages as you knew the boys would bring their own. Your flat was relatively small yet housed you and your best friend Anita perfectly. She wasn’t around much pulling long shifts at St Pancras Hospital so that meant you often had the space to yourself. You didn’t host marvellous parties or spontaneous get-togethers like today’s event often, most of your time between reading novels for the publishing company you worked for was or spent watching crime dramas to the late am. But this august bank holiday was the first in perhaps years that Anita didn’t have to work.

Anita, a tall and thin creature, long ginger hair which subjected her to the odd ginger joke of course. She had dark green eyes which ensured her uncanny resembled to cartoon character: Kim Possible. However, this did mean she went as Kim Possible every year for Halloween.

“Doll?” she called from down the hallway. You liked this flat a lot; the bedrooms were across from each other and yet both were spacious. You had the roof flat so unlike every other flat you didn’t have the access to a balcony, so the landlord had given you access to the roof. You and Anita had lived there for 5 years which meant your bank holidays had been spent doing up the roof and previously shattered greenhouse for your use. “I’m gonna take the ice buckets up – you gonna be okay?” she asked, smiling at you as she filled up the flimsy plastic buckets with weird side handles with ice and water. You nodded, mixing the last of the tequila in your pitcher of tequila sunrise. The amount of alcohol in these jugs would put you in the hospital if you consumed them alone.

You had gotten out 7 glasses to hold cocktails, each with a different coloured umbrella, one with stripes on from the last party you had hosted last year; you had also chopped up various complimentary fruits to go with the drinks and some carrots to dip in some homemade hummus. You brushed yourself down, the boys would be arriving soon and that would be chaotic from the second they stepped foot indoors.

Anita had convinced you to wear a pretty dress with your sandals rather than melting in your jeans and t-shirt. It was something you had purchased on sale a while back – completely on a whim. It was a short maxi dress, the straps crossed at the back; the dress itself was white but was covered in sunflowers, you had a pair of worn orange Birkenstocks on with matching nail polish on your nails. Despite having good company, you didn’t bother with much makeup or anything too full on with your hair – you just shoved it up in something in between a bun and ponytail.

As if on cue there was a knock at the door, evident commotion happening outside. You walked over and opened the door with ease; the boys never seemed to get you starstruck anymore, to you they were normal people.

“’Ello” Louis called, patting you on the back as he put some beers in your fridge and crisps on your countertop. You greeted Harry while he was mid carrot – a snack he knew you had gotten purposely for him. “Payno” you called hugging Liam who harboured more alcohol, this time with mixers as well.

“where’s goldilocks?” you asked, Niall had recently used a box dye in his hair, and it had gone a bit bright before a hairdresser had snuck into a hotel room and fixed it for him. That was, of course, before he regrettably sent a picture to you, who had later put it in the group chat where it was meme’d. Louis laughed at your nickname,

“on his way, had errands or something” he replies nonchalantly. The boys helped themselves to the drinks and made their way to the roof. They had been in your flat more times than you could count. During the world cup you had found yourself watching it with Tommo and Payno getting a little too aggressive when your preferred team wasn’t doing so well.

You ushered the boys to the roof while you waited on Niall. He was never usually late, if anything that was usually Louis.

“oi tommo, take some of this booze up, yeah?” you called, not turning back to him to see if he took anything but presumed from the brief ruckus he did. You fumbled around the flat looking for some sun cream and sunglasses but disturbing the search was the sound of the door opening and quickly shutting again.

“You’re late Horan” you called, not looking behind to him until you had found the things you were looking for.

“Sorry, perfection takes time” he shoots back, his wit - dry as always

“Yet you’re still so far from it” you snort, eventually greeting him. He hugs you briefly before giving you a bunch of flowers; tulips, your favourite, a bunch of red and orange ones.

“you like ‘em, pet?” he asks, you nod a little with a smile. “still your favourite then?”

“yeah, something like that Nialler. The boys are upstairs so head up when you’re ready” you inform him. You grab a glass vase from the cupboard beneath the sink, filling it with fresh water. You notice in your own company that these aren’t just shop-brought, but from a florist. You appreciated the sentiment, but Niall had several zeros in his bank account so you knew he could afford random trips to the florist.

When you reached the roof, the others had put on some background music and were already joking around with each other. You took the remaining seat in between Anita and Niall, sipping on your glass of tequila sunrise – something which cause you to meet your demise. The sun rays warmed your skin, something you basked in. You adored the sun, always trying to spend as much time in it as possible.

The song changed to Taylor Swift’s 22 and you just laughed to yourself.

“sorry curly, this gotta be awkward for ya” you joked, Harry just rolled his eyes before shaking his head.

“nah, she didn’t write this one about me” he humoured you, taking a pseudo-angry bite from a carrot stick. You listened more to the to and fro, seeing Anita exchange in light-hearted conversation with Liam and Harry was nice- it was rare she let her hair down for more than five minutes. You squirted some sun cream into your hand as you felt your skin getting warm; you got your legs fine and your arms but knew you would have to ask for help on your back – your eyes flicked to Anita who was deep in conversation, then to niall on your left, he seemed content on his phone.

“hey Nialler, do us a favour?” you asked, he turned off his phone placing his focus on you. “do me back?” you asked, smiling widely at him. He nodded with no pushback; his hands were calloused from playing the strings yet were gentle on your skin.

“can I move the straps?” he asked, you nodded, he fiddled with the straps of your dress rubbing the cream into your back and shoulders slowly ensuring he was covering the exposed skin.

“ay up what we missed? Nialler is feeling up our resident geek” Tommo shouts from the other side of the circle of chairs, a grin on his face. The rest of the group turns to see what he’s going on about.

“it’s the luck of the Irish, not every day I get to touch a shoulder” jokes Niall. You lean towards the direction Louis was sat in before announcing:

“It’s the accent really” you flirted with great ease and choosing to wink at Tommo who just shakes his head turning back to his conversation with Harry. His interest was lost after your response, you hadn’t bitten in the way he wanted. You leant back into Niall’s touch, relaxing beneath it. He finished up a couple of moments later, closing the cap of the bottle with a sharp snap. “thank you” you supply with a genuine smile.

“what’s the latest read?” he asks, it’s not often you’re asked about your work from anyone but Anita, so his query takes you by surprise.

“I always get lumbered with the romance novels” you complain, “suppose it’s the apparent trail of broken hearts I leave behind” you joke, he looks confused, “one of my co-workers hit on me and I tried to reject him nicely but he didn’t get the hint”

“oh” Niall replies, you continue,

“he was nice enough but he’s not the calibre of man that I usually go for”

“calibre of man?” he laughed, saying it a little louder then you would’ve liked.

“yeah, I’ve got standards” you retort. He is still laughing at your phrasing, so you sip more of your drink to wait it out. You slipped your feet out of your sandals and rested them upon his lap, he stopped laughing shortly after your action. You remembered to keep your legs closed as you weren’t wearing shorts beneath the dress.

“oh yeah? Giv’ us ya check list, am sure we know a bloke for our bookworm” he asks, waiting out your initial hesitance.

“natural brunettes; tattoo free and Irish. Know anyone?” you asked, teasing him on purpose, “doesn’t sound like anyone I know” he barks, his laugh overshadowing the rest of the chatter. You heard Louis mumble something which earned the others laugh but you felt the moment to ask him to repeat himself had passed.

“nah, no one I know at least” he finally announced, still laughing at you. Your cheeks had tinged. “I like your dress” he adds.

You notice now it’s a little low cut, you hadn’t realised it, but it really showed your cleavage – especially with the bra you were wearing. “not too much?” you ask, still feeling a little uneasy in it.

“nah, look’s good.” He confirmed, “wearing it for any reason”

“Anita” you replied quickly, “I brought it ages ago and she seems to think today is the best occasion for it” he is tapping the beat of the song on your legs, an action which didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“she’s right” he mutters, “‘s a good look” you nod not knowing what to do with the information, so you sip the last bit from your drink. You move to go refill it but harry stops you, taking your empty glass from your hands.

“stay love, I’ll do it”

“thanks H, you gem” you return, you smile at him before looking back to Niall. Anita however doesn’t let this moment lasts when she pulls you up to dance. You had met Anita when you went to university together; she was studying nursing and you studied English literature. Avril Lavigne’s Girlfriend switched on, it had been in the charts in your last year of uni and countless nights out had started with this playing while you got ready. You jumped and sang with her, no care in the world. Liam had gotten up to twirl you both about; Tommo watched from his chair when Harry had returned and joined in. the song ended in laughter all around, you sat on Niall’s lap, resting your head on his shoulder – his hands rested either on your leg or waist.

“why didn’t you come dance?” you asked.

“I ‘aven’t had enough to drink to do tha’” he replied, you shook your head in disbelief.

“drink up then as I’m getting the shots” you told him, vacating his person to bring up shot glasses and the various spirits you had to do shots with.

When you had returned to the roof another body had arrived, it must’ve happened while you rooted around for spirits in the pantry.

“Capaldi! Thought you’d got lost” you cheered, awkwardly side hugging him while balancing everything else on a tray. You poured shots and everyone did a few rounds to feel the buzz. Niall was talking deeply with Lewis, so you went over to Louis and Harry to see what had captured their attention.

They were discussing Harry’s sister, her new boyfriend or something you gathered.

“hey” you said, waving a little as you sat beside Louis.

“what can I do for ya’” Tommo asked, you laughed,

“nothin’ just couldn’t corrupt our church boy for much longer” you taunted; Louis laughed at your remark.

“tha’s good, I like tha’” he comments, Harry speaks next.

“you publishin’ anything I’d like?”

“nah, H. I promised I’d text if there was anything of your taste” you remind him, he doesn’t really respond. “how is my favourite styles anyway?”

“I’m alright” harry jokes, you scoffed rolling your eyes, knowing he’d bite regarding your comment about Gemma.

The evening passed in an alcohol induced haze; despite being late Lewis had tried to catch up on the alcohol consumption and was significantly more drunk then the rest of the guests at your social gathering. The atmosphere was relaxed, Anita lounged across Harry and Louis who were in deep conversation; Liam was on the phone in the corner speaking passionately to whoever had captured his attention while Niall and Lewis barked with contagious laughter in the seat Niall had claimed since he arrived.

you held your glass high and navigated around the chairs and empty bottles over to the clowns making more noise than everyone else combined.

“hey guys” you chirp, taking a seat beside Lewis. Niall, while listening to Lewis’ anecdote fixes his glance on you, it lingers for a few seconds shared with a soft smile before Lewis’ hand gestures grabbed his attention again. Niall had briefly excused himself which earned Lewis’ joking with your usual banter until Niall returned to match it.

The sun had long gone, and a breeze filled the air; goose bumps littered your skin, and would no doubt cause a shiver or chattering of your teeth if you didn’t equip yourself with an extra layer. Before you could do such a chore Niall returned baring a cup of tea in your favourite mug and his hoodie which he had discarded earlier on that afternoon.

“’ere” he passes the hoodie to you which you take no time in slipping on before carefully handing you the mug.

“how’d you know I was gonna go get a jumper?” you asked bewildered, slightly laughing at the coincidence of it all. Niall shrugged, “just know ya, I guess” he mumbles while he takes the seat he occupied before. You mouthed a quick thank you as to not interrupt Lewis’ resumed story to Niall.

The first to leave was Liam, soon after his departure people started yawning and stopped drinking; Harry and Louis left thirty and forty-five minutes after Liam which just left Niall, Lewis, Anita and yourself.

The party had taken itself naturally back indoors, Anita was half asleep on the couch as she had since changed into her pyjamas and cozied up beneath a knitted blanket she had purchased from John Lewis on sale a week prior, Lewis was dozing next to her and Niall and yourself lounged on smaller couch together – the seat was really meant for one yet you almost always seemed to fit both of you on there, you always found yourself cuddled into Niall’s grasp and quite often with a stolen layer from him.

“wha’ you doing tomorrow, blondie?” you asked, looking up at him in such proximity.

“well I was hopin’ that you’d wanna do something” he replied, his voice quiet, “jus’ me and you” you beamed up at him.

“I’d love that” you whispered back; he smiles.

“don’t put it in the group chat Tommo will only take the piss” he states after, not meeting your gaze.

“that’s okay Nialler, don’t want them crashing like they did last time” you laughed lightly, he just smiles squeezing you. You just rest your eyes basking in the warmth and the flowing serotonin that is coupled with hugging someone with such intimate affection.

You were, and are always, content when you were with Niall.

----

Thank you to @socialfake for the ask! hope you like it xo

41 notes · View notes

cakesunflower · 5 years

Text

No Need Convincing Me [Tattoo Artist!Calum AU] Part 2

Summary: Elodie Banks hadn’t expected to get so caught up in her best friend’s tattoo artist. But all it took was one meeting with Calum Hood for Elodie to feel herself drawing towards him and the ink on his skin. Maybe once she was rid of a miserable relationship and the insecurities that came with it, she’d allow herself to realize that Calum was just as wrapped up in her.

All Parts: Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Part 2

She was arm candy, only to speak when spoken to. Which was laughable, given that her parents owned one or two hotels in every major city across the country and were the top members of the city’s elite society. Elodie Banks wasn’t arm candy—unless Nathaniel Roman said she was. And she was tired of it.

Their arms weren’t even linked together the whole they had been when they first arrived. Now, they just stood side by side as Nathan talked to some important looking people Elodie didn’t know. She had tried to pay attention, tried to engage, but every time she’d open her mouth, Nathan would brush over her and his voice would overpower hers. So why should she bother? It twisted her stomach uncomfortably, being silenced for ever having an opinion on anything, but she stuck by. She plastered a smile and nodded along as if she understood. Smile and nod. Smile and nod.

“You alright, honey?” Elodie had managed to break away from Nathan, not that he truly noticed as he was too busy schmoozing the men he was talking to, to grab a glass of wine. Her mother had taken that moment to check in on her, blue eyes glimmering with concern.

“Yeah,” Elodie assures her with a smile. She couldn’t exactly indulge in the fact that being with Nathan was suffocating because, well, her parents loved him. Treated him like their own son because they all grew up together. Not to mention, Elodie had a fear if she told them the truth, they’d say the same thing Nathan said: she was being too sensitive. Gesturing around lightly with her glass, Elodie said, “It’s a beautiful collection.”

She could still see the concern in her mom’s eyes, but was grateful that she accepted the change of subject. Mrs. Banks looked around, a smile on her face and hands clasped as she said, “Yes, it is; hopefully we’ll raise a great amount.”

Elodie nodded her agreement. The money from the auction of the artwork was going to a variety of environmental and youth charities, and Elodie hoped they’d raise a substantial amount for them.

Her mother eyed her once more, raising a concerned brow. “Are you sure there’s nothing bothering you?”

Elodie met her gaze, forcing a smile onto her lips she’d become an expert in faking. “No, Mom. I’m great.”

She downed the rest of her wine after her mom walked away, earning a raised eyebrow from Dominique as she had chosen that given moment to approach Elodie. “You going through something?”

Elodie’s eyes cast over to where Nathan was, lips turning down into a frown as she mumbled, “Neglect.”

She watched the way Dominique looked over to Nathan as well, rolling her green eyes and Elodie kind of wished she kept her mouth shut. The animosity between her best friend and boyfriend wasn’t lost on her; she desperately wished the two of them got along. She wished she didn’t have to endure listening to either of them bicker or hear one ridicule the other behind their backs. Dominique only wanted what was best for her, and Elodie was aware of her friend’s dislike of Nathan stemming from the fact that Dominique thought Elodie deserved better. And maybe she did.

Elodie hated that she was so weak. If she was stronger, more like Dominique, then she’d be able to talk herself into breaking up with Nathan and then doing so. But she isn’t. And that’s why Nathan liked her.

“You know what?” Dominique spoke after taking a breath, eyes meeting Elodie’s. She saw the mischief glinting in the green of Dominique’s eyes. “I don’t think I’m feeling too well. How about you, my best friend, take me home before I throw up on the artwork?”

Elodie’s eyebrows shot up, feeling the smile quirk at her lips as she stared at Dominique in incredulity and amusement. She wanted to ditch? To be fair, it wasn’t the first time Dominique talked Elodie into leaving not even halfway through some event their families attended, but every time it was brought up, a shock of nerves and excitement rushed through Elodie. Breaking the rules wasn’t something she did often, and only ever in Dominique’s company. And she never regretted it.

Fooling their parents wasn’t elaborate. Dominique just clutched her stomach and made an expression akin to of someone about to throw up, throwing in the act of having a headache too. Her mom, ever concerned, suggested going to the doctor, but Elodie and Dominique assured them she just needed some rest. And with Elodie offering to take Dominique home, it was said and done.

They were out of the banquet hall, approaching the exit of the hotel when Nathan’s voice spoke, “Where are you going?”

They stopped, Dominique rolling her eyes as Elodie’s stomach flipped, turning to look at her questioning boyfriend. She tried not to shift on her heels, hand holding Dominique’s arm as she said, “Dom’s not feeling well so we’re going back to her place.”

Nathan’s green eyes shifted to Dominique, who didn’t even bother putting up an act, instead fixing him with the glare she had reserved just for him. Scoffing, Nathan took a few steps towards them and said, “Dominique’s a big girl. I’m sure she can take care of herself–no need for you to go.”

Elodie frowned gently at the notion of Nathan trying to stop her from doing something and at the fact that he wouldn’t care if her best friend really was sick and she wanted to help. Moments like these did Elodie realize how selfish he was. “It doesn’t matter. I’m still going with her, Nathan,” Elodie told him, her voice soft and even, because that’s just how she spoke all the time. Especially with him.

She saw the irritation flash across his eyes, tightening his features as he clenched his jaw. Elodie tried not to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat, taking a breath as he said in a forced calm tone, “You’re my date, Elodie. You can’t just leave me.”

“Both of you came with your families, jackass. You’ll be fine,” Dominique scoffed, reaching her hand up to grasp Elodie’s, who pressed her lips together when Nathan’s expression darkened. He was so handsome—Elodie hated when the inside of him didn’t match. “The car’s waiting.”

Dominique pulled Elodie out of the hotel, and she couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder as she looked at Nathan. Her throat dried at the scowl he wore, hands curled into fists at his sides, and though her stomach twisted nervously at the sight of him, it was overpowered by the relief and excitement of getting out of there. And away from him, but Elodie silenced that thought immediately.

About fifteen minutes later, around nine-thirty PM, the two of them were sitting in some Halal Guys, waiting for their food, still in their evening gowns and high heels. The two ignored the looks they got, chatting amongst themselves in their booth, when suddenly Ashton slipped next to Dominique and Calum next to Elodie.

“A little snazzy for a place like this, huh?” Ashton grinned, arm going around Dominique’s shoulders as he grinned at the girls.

Dominique snorted, sipping her soda. “We’re classing the place up.”

On the other side, Elodie was more or less frozen, not at all expecting the man sitting next to her. Dominique had asked Elodie if it was okay if she invited Ashton, which Elodie was all up for, but no one had mentioned the dark haired tattoo artist sliding into Elodie’s side of the booth. She glanced over at the wave of cologne that nearly dizzied her, the smell fresh and delightful, and felt her heart jump when she noted Calum’s dark gaze on her.

She watched the way his eyes trailed over her, feeling her skin flush when his gaze met hers once more and he said in a quiet tone, “Red’s a good color on you.”

The warmth on her cheeks intensified, gaze dropping to the color of her dress as if she hadn’t known what she was wearing. It was ruby red, reminiscent of her birthstone, the material hugging her nicely. Finding her voice, Elodie murmured a, “Thank you,” just as the guy at the counter called out both her and Dominique’s order numbers.

“We got ’em,” Ashton said, exchanging a nod with Calum before the two of them got up to go to the counter.

When they were out of ear shot, Elodie looked at Dominique, her eyes widened a bit as she asked, “Why didn’t you tell me Calum was coming?”

Dominique let out a laugh, eyebrows raised in amusement. “I didn’t know Ash was bringing him, I swear.” When her smile transitioned into a smirk, she leaned forward and said knowingly, “He thinks you’re cute, ya know.”

Her words had the expectant reaction from Elodie, her face completely on fire as she pressed her lips together and pushed herself back into the cushion of the booth seat. Elodie wanted to desperately believe that Dominique was just teasing her, playing around, but she knew her best friend never joked about those kinds of things—especially with someone as sensitive and nervous as Elodie. So knowing that there was, to some extent, a bit of truth in Dominique’s words had Elodie’s heart skipping a beat and shoulders tensing when Ashton and Calum returned with their food.

The grateful smile upturned Elodie’s lips easier than she thought, heart fluttering when Calum returned it with a small smile of his own as he placed her plastic tray in front of her, the chicken platter and side of hummus nearly making her stomach growl as she reached for her fork. But before she began eating, she glanced at Calum and found herself asking, “Do you want some?”

His gaze met hers, like he hadn’t expected for her to offer, and the small smile that returned made his eyes glimmer more than the chain necklace did under the fluorescent lights of the restaurant. “Thanks, doll,” Calum hummed, the nickname slipping casually, though there was nothing casual about the way Elodie’s heart lurched as she heard it. Calum reached over, ring clad and tattooed hand picking up a triangle of pita bread and scooping up some hummus with it before taking a bite.

Elodie had to look away in effort of not just staring at the way his strong jaw moved as he chewed, nodding appreciatively at the taste. God. She was so weird.

“So did you decide what you’re doing for your birthday?” Ashton’s question pulled at Elodie’s attention, all eyes going to Dominique expectantly.

She put down her roll, swallowing down her bite and gently wiping at her mouth with a napkin. With a shrug, Dominique responded, “Costume party? My birthday’s always on Halloween weekend so it just makes shit easier.”

After sipping her drink, Elodie asked, “Are you gonna have it at your place or book a venue?”

Dominique hummed as Calum stole another piece of pita bread from Elodie’s plate, shooting her a boyish smile that had her own lips curling. He was undeniably handsome and it was fluttering Elodie’s stomach a bit too much. Handsome and intriguing, a combination Elodie shouldn’t get wrapped up in. “If the Playboy Club is available on my birthday, I’ll book it otherwise I can just throw it at my place.”’

Elodie let out a soft laugh around her fork. The Playboy Club would become readily available once they realized the party was for Dominique Lewis.

The four of them continued with light conversation over the dull buzz of the overhead lights, only three or four other customers in the restaurant as vague conversations occurred around them. Elodie found herself relaxed with the company she had, amusedly watching Dominique and Ashton pressed into each other in the middle of their booth, being the couple they denied they were, as Elodie finished her food with the help of Calum stealing some of her pita bread and hummus. The two of them sat at a respectable distance from one another on their side of the booth, but Elodie could still feel the warmth he radiated, could smell the faint scent of his cologne over the food they ate.

She found herself listening to the sound of his voice as much as she paid attention to the words he uttered; he was quiet, she noted as they sat, listening more so than speaking, but every time he did, Elodie got lost in his voice. A deep timber with a rasp that became more prominent if he spoke between laughter, his broad shoulders shaking as he did so. And for someone who came off as reserved—unlike Elodie’s shyness, Calum’s appeared as mysterious and intriguing—he seemed to smile a lot. Elodie found no fault in that—he had a gorgeous smile, complete with crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes and cheeks pushing up adorably.

It dried her throat, how quickly she was finding these details in him.

“Would you ever consider getting a tattoo?” Calum had asked the question out of nowhere, making conversation with Elodie as, across from them, Ashton and Dominique lazily talked about something she hadn’t been paying attention to.

Elodie blinked as she looked at Calum, head turned towards her as he leaned back in the seat, right ankle resting on his left knee as his right arm rested on the table in front of them. He was making conversation, casual and easy, as he eyed her curiously. Elodie wasn’t quite sure what it was, but the way Calum looked at her, watched her, felt different. Nerve wracking—but in a good way. “I don’t think so,” she told him truthfully, almost shyly because she didn’t want to insult him or his job in some way. With a sheepish smile, she added, “I don’t think I’ve got the pain threshold for it.”

Honestly, Elodie liked tattoos. She liked the way they looked on people’s skin, admired the artwork and precision to detail, and wondered what the stories behind every tattoo was on every person she saw—if there was a deep meaning, if they got it just because they liked the design, if it was some kind of drunken mistake—the curiosity always ate at her. But actually receiving one herself? Elodie wasn’t too sure if she’d be able to sit through that. Besides, she wouldn’t even know what to get if she ever decided on going for it.

Understanding danced across Calum’s features as he nodded. “That’s fair,” he said, fingers tapping on the table top. She wondered what the letters on his hands meant.

Finding the urge to keep the conversation going, Elodie shifted ever so slightly, pressing her right shoulder into the booth to face Calum a bit as she told him, “I’ve always wanted to get my nose pierced, though.”

She watched the way Calum’s dark eyes dropped a bit, looking at her nose, and for some reason that had her smiling. Calum’s own mouth quirked, boyish and far too charming, as he looked at her once more and said smoothly, “You’ve got the perfect nose for it.” Elodie wondered if he was aware how easily he lit a fire in her cheeks. Wondered if she should be worried about that fact. Lazily pointing at her, Calum added, “If you ever wanna get it done, come by the shop. It’ll be on me,” the offer complete with a boyish wink.

Elodie raised her eyebrows, surprised and feeling almost sheepish at his offer. If she was being honest, she was kind of used to getting some things for free or for a valued price—it came with the status of being the daughter of parents like hers. She’d always been grateful for it, yet always offered to pay the full amount because she could afford it, because she didn’t find it necessary to be given things for free—a trait she didn’t quite share with the classmates she had in her private high school.

She often joked about how that’s how the rich stayed rich—by having companies give them free things for the sake of their name being attached to their brand.

Before Elodie could even hope to respond, a new voice spoke up, completely freezing her in her seat and immediately dissipating the easy going mood of their table. “If you weren’t feeling sick before, you sure as hell will now with that shit in your stomach.”

Dominique’s expression darkened as Nathan stepped into view, standing right at the end of their table as. His expression seemed cool, but Elodie noted the storm brewing in his eyes, the irritation trickling upon his features, and she felt her own body tightening in his presence. Her nails dug into her palms under the table, cursing at her instinctive reaction upon Nathan arriving; this wasn’t how she should be feeling around her boyfriend. Why couldn’t she stop?

“Actually, I was feeling great until I saw your face,” came Dominique’s rebuke, tone as icy as her eyes as she glared at the unwelcome guest. Elodie pressed her teeth together, gently nudging Dominique’s foot with her own under the table. Their eyes met, and Elodie silently pleaded for her to not provoke him. Turning her gaze back to Nathan, Dominique demanded, “How’d you even find us? Stalking’s a crime, you know.”

“Our drivers talk, Dominique. It wasn’t hard.” Nathan’s gaze then shifted to Elodie, and she hated that she felt guilty under the weight of his gaze. She knew she shouldn’t have lied to him in the first place, and while she didn’t regret being here, she wasn’t looking forward to Nathan’s anger. With patronizing raised eyebrows, Nathan taunted, “You ditched me for some cheap double date? What the fuck are you doing, Elodie?”

Her lips, long since having lost their gloss, parted to speak, her words caught in a nervous hitch of breath, heart pounding when Calum spoke up out of nowhere. “Are you really gonna speak to her like that?”

All eyes shifted to Calum, and Elodie was too busy taking a soft breath at the sound of him coming to her defense to notice the annoyance that intensified on her boyfriend’s face. Calum was looking up at Nathan, looking at him with an expression that was a cross between challenging and disgust, scrunched together eyebrows raised in question.

Jaw working, Nathan snapped back, “This is none of your business, buddy—”

Calum gave a single shake of his head—more of a sideways tilt of his chin, really—as he clicked his tongue and cut in, “Not your buddy.”

Elodie took a breath, not at all ignorant of the tension brewing between them. After all, it was her doing, wasn’t it? The amount of hostility between the two of them churned her stomach, naively wondering if it all came from this moment. The two men Elodie was sitting with didn’t know Nathan, and he wasn’t giving them the best impression of himself. Silently, briefly, Elodie wondered what that even was anymore.

Instead of responding to Calum, Nathan looked at Elodie once more, telling her tightly, “Let’s go. We’re leaving.”

His demanding tone didn’t settle well with anyone, and even Ashton frowned as he started, “Dude—”

Elodie’s skin felt like it was on fire. She was mortified, upset, angry. Nathan never hesitated on speaking to her like this, always demanded things of her even if it went against what she wanted. And he only ever did it in front of Dominique, yet in front of everyone else, he kept up that charming act that Elodie had fallen for in the first place, never giving the impression that behind the disarming grin, there was a man who had no trouble in being a puppet master to his acquiescent girlfriend.

Elodie hated that almost six months in, he was still working the strings.

“Now, Elodie,” Nathan snapped again, right at her, cutting off whatever Ashton was about to say. His eyes were fierce, challenging her to say no.

Her heart was in her throat, stomach churning and suddenly she wished she hadn’t eaten that entire platter. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her, and Elodie unsuccessfully tried to swallow the lump in her throat as she cleared it and looked down at her lap, pretending to dust off crumbs from her dress. They needed to get out of there before Nathan made more of a scene than he already had; somehow, though, she was the one who was embarrassed, never him. There was a familiar sting in her nose, but Elodie ignored it as she asked in a small voice, “Calum, can you let me out, please?”

She didn’t dare look at him, but Elodie could feel the heat of Calum’s gaze burning into her upon hearing her request. Maybe he was wondering if he misheard her. Maybe he was wondering how she could let Nathan speak to her like that. Maybe he thought she was utterly ridiculous for listening to Nathan. God knows Elodie considered those last two options for herself.

Why couldn’t she just say no?

Instead, she was burning under everyone’s gazes—especially Calum’s. She could feel him staring at her, as intense as the lights above, and not for the first time Elodie hated being weak. Hated it for herself, and hated that Calum had to see her this way. And while she wasn’t exactly sure why the second was so strong, why it meant more than it should, but it did. And it made her all the more nauseous.

There was shifting from next to her, and Elodie saw from the corner of her eyes as Calum slid out of the booth without a word, and she swallowed inaudibly before sliding out as well. She felt like a fucking child as she stood next to Nathan, a child who just got reprimanded, and the embarrassment brought a new wave of heat to her skin as Calum moved to sit back down. Her gaze met his then, accidentally, and Elodie noted the frown on his face as he looked at her. His lips were pressed together in disdain—was it towards her? Towards Nathan? Towards this whole situation?—with his hands pressed to the tops of his thighs as if he was bracing himself, and Elodie felt her throat tighten at his darkened eyes.

She quickly averted her gaze to Dominique, who mouthed, “Call me,” as Nathan’s hand grasped Elodie’s. It felt rough, cold against her skin, and she bit the inside of her lower lip as he said gruffly, “Let’s go.”

They sat in the back of his family car, the distance between them noticeable as Elodie sat pressed against the door, gaze out the window as they drove back to Nathan’s place. She just wanted to go home.

The air was suffocating in the back of the town car as Elodie clicked her nails, the sound piercing her ears yet being unable to stop. She was probably pissing him off more. “You know, if you hadn’t lied to me, I wouldn’t have crashed your little double date.”

Elodie suppressed the scoff, the lie a bit too laughable. Instead, she looked down at her nails, throat working as she said quietly, “It wasn’t a double date. We were just hanging out.”

Nathan had no trouble in scoffing loudly, the sound patronizing and derisive that only had Elodie biting the inside of her cheek. “Hanging out,” he mocked. “That dude wants to get in your pants. He’s not your friend. Do yourself a favor and stay away from him.” And then, as if what he’d said hadn’t been enough, Nathan added snidely, “And, really, a nose ring? It won’t look good on you; don’t kid yourself.”

She bit her tongue, hard enough to send a sting through the muscle, as Elodie took a breath and looked back out the window. Nathan’s words and his insults stung, heart sinking into the pit of her stomach. Every time he just. . . Told her to do something, demanded something of her, made her feel like she wasn’t good enough, it felt so defeating. Why she ended up listening to him was beyond her. Why she stayed was another question she desperately sought the answer to.

The tears stung her eyes as she leaned her head back against the seat. Probably because she had no spine. No sense of sticking up for herself. Fucking pathetic.

*****

When Calum stepped through the curtain, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or give into the sudden animalistic urge of throwing a punch. For a second, he debated on turning around and asking Luke or one of the other guys to take over, but Calum wasn’t someone who ever submitted to anybody else—much less people he didn’t particularly like.

So he pursed his lips and kept his expression blank as the curtain closed behind him, jaw tight when Nathan’s disbelieving, derisive laugh sounded in the small space of the work station. He’d been standing by the chair an unfamiliar guy sat in, Calum’s actual client, arms crossed over his chest and looking utterly out of place in his suit, when his gaze landed on the man who would be doing the job.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Nathan scoffed with a shake of his head, lips curled into a sneering grin. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Calum was ready to kick the dude out, his mere presence encroaching on the comforting atmosphere of his store, as the guy seated—Scott, Calum recalled Sierra informing him—looked between the two of them in quiet confusion. Calum’s gaze, dark and fiery as he forced himself to hold back, met Nathan’s demanding one. He fought off the condescending smirk threatening to grow as he walked towards the stool and told him, “It’s my shop. If anyone’s got barely a right to be here, it’s you.”

As Calum settled on the stool, Scott spoke up with a wary, “Am I missing something?”

“This dude’s tryna fuck Elodie.”

Calum wanted to let out a laugh at Nathan’s crude words; he would never be caught dead talking about his girlfriend like that. Calum slipped his gloves on under the two men’s gazes; Nathan wasn’t entirely wrong—Calum had felt himself focusing on Elodie since the moment he met her, but he had more respect for her than that. He would never try anything with her while she was in a relationship—even if it was a shitty one. And, honestly, not out of his own morals—he just wouldn’t do anything because Elodie seemed like the type to let the guilt eat her alive at the thought of cheating on her boyfriend.

Calum was drawn to her, that much was obvious to himself. But he wasn’t going to start anything, if there was an opportunity to do so, when there was the potential of her feeling guilt over anything else.

His glanced up, expression blank under Scott’s raised eyebrows and Nathan’s glare, as he stated flatly, “We’re friends.” Patience wearing thin, Calum braced his hands on his knees and turned his attention solely to Scott, raising his eyebrows in an almost bored sense. “Is this gonna be a problem? D’you want me to hand you off to someone else to get this done?”

Scott blinked, lips pressed together before glancing at a still glaring Nathan. Calum once again felt the urge to kick him out of the shop, especially after how he’d seen Nathan treat Elodie at the restaurant the other night. It had taken everything in Calum not to go after them, to put Nathan in his place for speaking to Elodie—to anyone—the way he did. After he’d taken her, Dominique had cursed and continued to be worried about her best friend, Ashton trying his best to comfort her while Calum, sat opposite of them, ignited a pain in his jaw from how hard he was clenching it. He was furious, disgusted.

It all seemed like a mess, yet another reason for Calum to ignore whatever the hell he was feeling towards Elodie. But he couldn’t ignore it. Not when she looked like she was trying to escape as badly as Calum was wanting to help her out.

Looking back at Calum, Scott gave a shake of his head. “Nah, man. I’m fine here.”

Calum was a bit surprised, but he didn’t question it. The same couldn’t be said for Nathan, who let out a protesting scoff. “Are you kidding me, Scott? He’s—”

“One of the best tattoo artists in the area,” Scott cut him off, throwing an irritated look towards his friend. Calum fought the urge to smirk; he wondered if Nathan’s own parents even liked him. “I’m not going somewhere else just ’cause you’ve got an issue with everyone.”

It was a silent affair, though that’s how Calum normally liked it. He preferred working in silence, only hearing the buzz of the gun and the sound of The Maine playing through the shop’s speakers, as he got everything prepared, grabbing the gun and adjusting the needle and sterilizing the area of application. Calum remained aware yet uncaring of Nathan’s scowl, bitterly amused that he hadn’t dragged his friend out of the shop the way he had Elodie’s. Or was that just because they were around her friends? Did he act that way around other people? Calum had a twisting feeling that kind of behavior was only saved for Elodie, and his dislike and contempt for Nathan started blossoming into hatred.

Calum worked with easy confidence and concentration, feeling just a bit more relaxed once the tattoo gun was in his hand and he was finally working on Scott’s tattoo—a quote his father always says in his handwriting, which Calum thought was dope. It was going fine, the silence inviting and needed as Calum focused on his work, until Nathan decided to speak up.

“You know, I find it hilarious that you think Elodie would go for some dude who owns a tattoo shop when she’s already got a guy already set on Wall Street.”

Calum wanted to snort. He’d been right about the Wall Street angle from the second he’d laid eyes on Nathan the first time.

Instead of Calum responding, Scott spoke up, his tight tone towards his friend as he said, “Dude, can you not provoke the guy who’s tatting me up?”

“’S alright, Scott,” Calum mused smoothly as he leaned back a bit, wiping at some of the excess ink and blood. His tone remained cool because, truthfully, what Nathan meant to be a snide and taunting remark had no effect on Calum. It wasn’t a secret that Calum didn’t give a shit what Nathan thought of him, the man’s opinion meant nothing, so why waste any energy rebuking? “Unlike your buddy, I’m capable of keeping my shit together in public places.”

“What’d you just say?”

But Calum didn’t grace him with a response, instead bit back a smirk and continued finishing Scott’s tattoo. He expertly ignored the tension in the room, the buzz of the gun calming as he finished the quote on Scott’s forearm. Nathan was nothing but another body in the room as Calum wrapped up Scott’s tattoo and gave him the routine after care talk, and any animosity Calum felt towards his friend didn’t translate into his interaction with Scott as they shook hands. “Thank you, man. Appreciate it,” Scott smiled, ignoring the clench of Nathan’s jaw and the impatient exhale of a breath he sounded by the curtain. He looked ready to leave, and Calum was more than willing to kick him right out on his ass.

Nathan’s presence in his shop was pretty anticlimactic, though Calum wished he never stepped foot inside in the first place, yet he couldn’t help but mutter a gruff, “Fucker,” once the door shut behind Nathan, the glare furrowing Calum’s eyebrows returning without a thought.

Sierra, who heard him, raised her eyebrows from where she sat behind the desk, looking up from her phone as she asked with a slightly amused laugh. “Who was that?”

“The blonde with the pocket protector?” Sierra snorted as Calum rolled his eyes, lips curling distastefully. “Elodie’s boyfriend.” He remembered Luke and Sierra had left the bar just minutes before Nathan had arrived that first night; they were lucky enough to not make his acquaintance.

Sierra twirled a pen between her fingers, quirking a brow. “We don’t like him?”

Calum exhaled sharply through his nose, aware of the irritation caused by Nathan’s presence still heating his skin as his gaze met Sierra’s pointedly. “We don’t like him.”

tags: @irwinkitten @softforcal @valentinelrh @sweetcherrymike @astroashtonio @meetashthere @calntynes @hereforlukescruff @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @imfuckin10plybud @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @buggy-blogs @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @gorgeouslygrace @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @theagenderwhocriedwolf @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @sunnysidesblog @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @fluffsshawn @bloodmoonashton @vxidhood

496 notes · View notes

fangirlxwritesx67 · 4 years

Text

Cross Timbers

Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum, Sam Winchester x Jody Mills, no warnings, mildly PG-rated Chapter 1 - 1830 words Chapter 2 - 2265 words Chapter 3 - 1885 words

A/N: This story was just a passing idea until I brought it up in my Slack chat and got a ton of great ideas from the folks there! Friends, I hope I have remembered everyone’s ideas and done them justice. Thanks for this and everything else!

@boondoctorwho

@cherry3point14

@cracksinthewalls

@dawnie1988

@fookinghelljensensthighs

@icemankazansky

@itmighthavebeenintentional

@justcallmeasmodeus

@lastactiontricia

@littlegreenplasticsoldier

@mskathywriteswords

@rockhoochie

@there-must-be-a-lock

@thoughtslikeaminefield

/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_

Jody woke up early the next morning. She reached out and grabbed Sam's discarded flannel from the night before. She pulled it over her shoulders, wrapping herself in warmth and the smell of him. She bent down and brushed a kiss to his lips, and he murmured her name in his sleep, before she slipped out of the tent.

She made a pot of coffee, enjoying the cool morning air and the sunlight warming her bare legs. She chopped apples, getting them ready to mix into oatmeal with cinnamon and brown sugar. She was bending over to tend the fire when she heard a low voice right behind her. She stood up and saw Sam striding towards her.

“Good morning,” she called softly.

"Well, it’s definitely a good morning for me." A smile creased his face, pushing dimples into his cheeks. He held out his arms and she slipped into them, leaning in for a kiss.

“Where are you headed so early?” she asked. Her fingers slipped under the waistband of his shorts, and then down over the curve of his ass.

“Well, I was going running,” he murmured. A mischievous glint lit his hazel eyes. “But I can think of a more enjoyable way to get some exercise.”

“Oh yeah?” Jody sighed, as his lips trailed over her jawline, down her neck, and towards the buttons of her -his- shirt.

“Let me show you.” He tugged her back towards the tent. /\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_

When Sam and Jody exited the tent, hand in hand, he started. Next to his SUV was- what? An inflatable slice of pizza almost as tall as him. He blinked, and it was still there. He shook his head and decided to figure it out later.

Dean and Donna were lounging by the fire. They had helped themselves to oatmeal, and coffee, and made more coffee. Sam and Jody got their own mugs and bowls before they sat down too.

Dean waited until they were settled to speak. “So, what should we do today?”

“I thought we could hike?” Sam spoke up with an eager look on his face.

Dean laughed as he took a big gulp of coffee. “Didn’t Jody give you enough of a workout? Do you two need more time in your tent?”

Sam rolled his eyes at his older brother before turning to Jody with a smile and a soft kiss.

“Today we should go to the lake. We’ve got the pizza float,” Donna chimed in.

Sam’s eyebrows went up, furrowing his brow. “The … pizza float?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t see it.” Dean gestured back. “When we went supply shopping for this trip, Donna just insisted that she needed it.”

“Stuff you, Dean,” she sassed back, dimples popping in her cheeks as she grinned. “You’re the one who loves pizza.”

“I love you,” he answered with a kiss. “

Well, the lake sounds good to me,” Jody spoke up.

“Oh, yeah.” Dean returned to the moment. “I already went to the store down at the park entrance, got some ice. We can pack the cooler full of beer and snacks.”

/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_

Everyone changed into swimsuits. Jody insisted on sunscreen all around before they headed out, the boys carrying chairs and the cooler between them. She had the towels, while Donna wrangled the pizza float.

The lake was a short easy walk away. Tall trees opened onto a sloped beach, pebbles mixed with gritty sand. The lake itself was wide and clear, sun sparkling bright. A gentle breeze swept waves across the surface, stirring the air damp and cool. In the distance, ducks paddled on the water, quacking softly.

The four of them dropped everything on the sand and headed straight for the water. Sam and Dean jumped in headfirst, racing each other to some invisible point far out in the lake. Jody and Donna waded in more slowly, but the water was warm and inviting, and they soon joined the boys.

In the lake, they were weightless, free. The worries of land slipped away, leaving them to enjoy the embrace of sun and water. The four of them stayed for a long time, talking and laughing and splashing.

Finally, Sam and Dean headed towards shore. They settled into their folding chairs and cracked open beers. Both of them looked out across the lake where Jody and Donna had their arms on the pizza float, heads together in conversation.

“Looks like trouble for us.” Dean chuckled.

“They’re the best damn thing that has ever happened to us and you know it,” Sam responded, scoffing. Dean tipped his beer wordlessly towards him in agreement. Both took a long cool drink, savoring the moment.

Finally, Dean spoke again.“You know, it’s not quite the toes in the sand vacation I envisioned.”

Sam looked at his sweating beer with a mock sad face, turning down the corners of his mouth. “And sadly lacking in umbrella drinks.”

“Hah!” Dean turned to look at his younger brother. “Anyway, I’m happy. I think you’re happy. For two fucked up ex hunters, we have it pretty good.”

Sam met his gaze with a bright, genuine smile. “We have each other. We have Jody and Donna. Yeah, I’d say I’m happy.”

Before the chick flick moment could drag on, the aforementioned ladies splashed in from the lake, dragging the pizza float behind them.

Once they dried off, they opened the cooler. Both took beers before digging into the snacks. There were crackers and pretzels, hummus and different kinds of cheese, green olives and red grapes. Everything was cool and tasty.

The four of them splashed in and out of the lake, basked in the sun, sat around talking, ate, drank, and ducked into the water again. The sun was golden bright, low in the sky, before they gathered up their things and headed back to camp.

/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_

Dean built a fire while Donna made sure the grill packs were ready to go. Sam and Jody hung around making sure dinner got into the coals. Then they left, hand in hand, to refill the collapsible water jug from Sam’s stream-fed irrigation system.

The sun was sinking behind the trees, filling the campsite with golden bands of light, before dinner was ready. Everyone felt the chill of evening on sunwarmed skin.

Sam pulled on a lightweight running shirt, while Jody returned to his button-up flannel. Dean grabbed a soft henley. Donna had the coziest solution of all: wrapping herself in a blanket, tossing the ends over her shoulders.

Around the fire, they ate and drank, laughed and talked. That night they didn’t have to worry about anything else. They just enjoyed the moment.

The fire had burned down to embers again when Dean cleared his throat. “You know, I think I might take Donna for a drive in Baby, show her where I’ve been fishing.”

“Ooh, yeah,” Donna cooed, running her fingers through Dean’s hair. “You got something to show me?”

Dean winked at Sam before he turned his attention fully to her with a deep warm kiss.

/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_

Dean drove in silence, Donna’s hand resting on his thigh. It took moments to arrive at the spot where he had been fishing the day before.

The moon shone a silvery path from the dark sky onto the deep water. He put the car in park and rolled down the windows. Donna snuggled up against him.

“Oh yeah,” she breathed. “This is nice.”

“Just you and me, sweetheart,” he answered with a suggestive tilt of his brows. “Alone, together.”

She didn’t need to hear any more before she landed in his lap, pushing his shoulders back against the car door.

/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_

“Hasn’t Dean been walking to the fishing spot?” Jody wondered, back at the campsite.

“Well, yeah,” Sam answered, as if it was obvious. “But he’s not gonna take Donna out and make love to her on a splintery old dock.”

“Oh. OH.” Jody’s big brown eyes widened.

“Sex under the stars,” Sam continued as he reached out, and she slipped her hand into his. “Sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

“Until you mentioned splinters,” she retorted.

“Wait.” He got up and took the blanket that Donna had discarded and spread it over one of the picnic tables. Then he sat down on the bench and held out his arms. Jody slipped eagerly into his embrace before he pulled her onto his lap.

The moon and the stars in the velvet dark sky seemed to hang low over the trees. Kisses and whispers drifted into the night. Everything was close and stripped bare and perfect.

/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_

It was long past midnight. The chorus of night sounds had settled to the whisper of running water and the occasional enthusiastic frog. Somewhere close, an owl hooted gently, keeping watch.

Jody was in a camp chair, Sam at her feet beside a low but warm fire. He leaned his head on her knee as she gently stroked his hair.

Dean and Donna drove up, holding hands as they got out of Baby. Her curls were more riotous than usual, his hair soft and all on end. They settled in a pair of chairs.

For a long time, everyone was still and no one spoke. Eventually, Dean got up and went to the cooler and handed out beer all around.

They were still again, enjoying the moment, when finally Donna spoke.“S’mores?”

Sam laughed, actually laughed out loud. Of course that was what this moment was missing. Never mind that it was well past 1am. Never mind that he and his brother were grown men. What a camping trip needed was s’mores.

He got up and dug around until he found the basics: marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers. Jody appeared at his side with long roasting sticks.

Dean stoked the fire higher before he settled back into his seat. When Donna came up to him, he cupped a hand under her ass and then pulled her onto his lap.

Some marshmallows were burned to a crisp and others were toasted perfectly. More chocolate was eaten than made it onto graham crackers. They stayed up long after the snacks were gone, poking the fire now and then, casting a burst of sparks upward.

Sam gathered the blanket off the picnic table and settled on the ground, his back against a cooler. Jody sat between his knees, her back against his chest. He wrapped her in the blanket and held her close.

Sam and Jody, Donna and Dean - they deserved so much more. But for one night, under the light of the stars, the Winchesters were happy. They would hold on to that moment as long as they could. Afterwards they would treasure the memories of their camping trip at Cross Timbers.

/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_

SPN First Last and Always: @boondoctorwho @dawnie1988 @deanwanddamons @defenderrosetyler @divadinag @emoryhemsworth @fookinghelljensensthighs @idreamofplaid @kalesrebellion @kickingitwithkirk @maddiepants @magssteenkamp @onethirstyunicorn @there-must-be-a-lock @tloveswriting Sam Girl For Life: @awesomesusiebstuff @lilsylvia @winchesterxfamilybusiness Dean Curious:@adoptdontshoppets @awesomesusiebstuff @deangirl7695 @deans-baby-momma @mrsjenniferwinchester @stoneyggirl @wayward-gypsy @winchesterxfamilybusiness Cross Timbers Tags: @deangirl7695, @elliloumom, @meeshw777

#cross timbers #dean x donna #sam x jody #winchester camping trip

21 notes · View notes

wildmoonflower · 4 years

Text

Run For Your Love

Summary: Who would have thought that a morning run can bring You something else than just a strong urge to die or kill Your friends? You didn't expect to meet the love of Your life, that’s for sure.

A/N: This is my short addition for @kitkatd7 challenge with prompt 'Please don't make me.' Congratulation on the beautiful milestone and thank You for extending the dead-line. :) Hope You all enjoy the reading. Pairing: StevexReader Warning: none, maybe some light swearing Word count: 2749

First golden rays of sun lit up the pink sky, foretelling a sunny beautiful day. Warm breeze ruffled the leaves on the trees, their pure green colour clear indication of late spring. Despite the early hour, the park in New York already bustled with life and sounds. Pet owners chatting while their furry friends run around, more than often disturbing the peace of readers, spread on the blankets or the concentration of artist, trying to catch the beauty of the morning on the canvas and papers. Stony paths were busy with life too as runners were having their morning run, loners and couples alike.

One particular pair of runners stood out more than others. With the speed higher than some sleepy eyes could notice and movements more fluid and swift than humanly possible, it was given that two super-soldiers stood out like a sore thumb. There was a time when Bucky hated when Steve forced him to go run with him out in the open, not in the closed space of the gym with the special treadmills Tony created for their super-human speed.

"You have to get used to normal society, Buck," Steve gave him a pity smile,"show them your calm, domestic side, not only the new Avenger." Bucky understood, he really did, but it didn't mean he had to like it, nor enjoy it. So he forced himself out of the bed every morning for his sake and honestly, it was worth it seeing Steve's relieved face mixed with pride.

After running at almost full speed for an hour, finally both super-soldiers were slightly out of breath, finding their spot under the tree that casted a huge shadow, giving the shelter from the sun to several more people, including a young girl reading a medical book, an elderly man in great shape who was currently in a weird yoga pose that looked as if he broke his back and two young men who clearly finished their run too, their breath quick and short, faces red and sweaty. They were waiting for somebody, Bucky could easily tell from their bodies slightly turned to side so they could see the paved path, his sensitive ears catching something like 'slow, angry, won't go with us ever again'.

"Buck? You listening?" Flinching, Bucky looked up to Steve. He knew Bucky still hasn't lost his habit of scanning the area and people around, looking for any indication of danger, escape routes and possible weapons. But this time, Steve couldn't bring himself to say anything as he always did the same, his super senses and brain analyzing and planning, a habit he rarely tried to stop. "Sam said he can go run with us tomorrow when he comes back from the mission." "He tries too hard to keep up." Bucky grumbled but in the end, he was glad. Tower tended to be quite intense when Tony and Buck were in the same room and without Sam's constant shouting and attempts to distract Bucky, his tension grew.

"You say that but who was running backwards right next to him last time, nice and slow just to piss him off?" Steve jabbed at Bucky, laughing at his friend who doubled over and proceeded to almost slip up, sending both into another fit of laughter, succesfully ending their run as both men slid down in the shadow of a big oak tree, revelling in the comfortable buzz of life around them. Not that either of them needed the rest. It was Sam's idea, his way of lifting spirit after a bad day, night or a bad mission. Bucky had to chuckle just how much Sam-like it was, surrounding himself with life and hustle of humans.

Their peaceful silence was short-lived when huffing puffing woman suddenly stopped next to the spot where they sat, collapsing right in front of them. Before any of them could even overcome the shock, hard breathing woman raised her fist and smacked Steve in his shin, the anger and frustration clear in her voice. "Thank you for waiting for me, you two pricks!" Unknown girl hid her face in the crook of her elbow, breathy voice muted: "You promised you won't leave me behind if I will go on a run with you. And you disappeared. After. Five. Minutes!" Each of her last words were ended with a smack in Steve's shin, who was now forcing back the smile while Bucky was already trembling, his left hand pressing against his ribs.

"Uhmm, Ma'am?" Steve cleared his throat as it constricted at the sight of her eyes shooting open, burying in his soul. In his head, tens of colour combination swirled around, trying to copy the beautiful colour he was seeing but Steve knew- he knew that no matter how much practice he has in drawing, neither him nor any artist would ever be able to catch the true beauty of mysterious woman's eyes. Little, barely noticeable crow's feet in the corner of her eyes from laughing and at looking at the sun, much more prominent spark, a sign of keen mind and undeniably, Steve's breath did hitched a little at their warmth. Simply, everything about her eyes pulled Steve in, even a small mole on her right eyelid tempted Steve to kiss it. "Oh my God." Woman whispered, still lying down on the soft grass, "oh my God, you are not my two idiots!"

´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´ The moment Y'N's alarm rang in the morning, at the time when the bed just looked and felt the best, she just knew this day will test her very being. First test was Martin and Jake knocking on her doors, dressed for their run, brimming with energy that Y/N usually felt maybe two hours after waking up. Instead of normal breakfast of toast with bacon and eggs, a small bowl of hummus and banana has been thrusted in sleepy hands as Jake run to the closet, trying to find the good work-out outfit, horrified of obvious lack of presentable clothes, finding only clothes for work and clothes for sleeping while Martin ushered Y/N to bathroom, instructing her to do the morning hygiene.

Y/N still couldn't wrap her brain why did she accept their offer to morning run. She always hated running, her whole life she avoided running, of course, except the P.E. classes. She was what people called a person with two left feet. Clumsy. Inept. Running was dangerous, running was...personal Hell. So why did she suddenly accepted Martin's offer? She didn't know. It was probably the sad expression of her favourite neighbor when she refused at first, maybe the pleading eyes of his boyfriend.

With the reasons still unknown, an hour later she found herself on her knees, panting like a dog, sweating and even without a mirror, Y/N knew her face resembled a tomato juice. Kneeling in front of two men she didn't know like an idiot, after smacking their legs, like an idiot, while her real two idiot friends were in her peripherals, slapping their knees like retarded seals.

"I-I am sorve!" Y/N's face couldn't be more red as she bit her tongue. At that point, dark haired man looked like he suffered a stroke, one hand pressing deeply in his side while other arm, oddly shining in the morning sun covered his face, whole body shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. It was the other guy that officially took Y/N's last breath away as she locked eyes with most gorgeous blue she has ever seen, softest blue that seemed to burn a hole inside of her now shame-ridden soul. Handsome young face almost couldn't belong to these eyes, to these old, sad, wise eyes.

Lost in the sea of blue, Y/N didn't notice Martin and Jake approach, her focus snapping when latter crouched beside her, still wiping the tears from his eyes. "Are you okay, Y/N?" Jake handed Y/N a water bottle, turning to Steve when she just opened her mouth just to close it again, like a fish out of the water, staring at Steve and then finally looking down, shaking her head. "We're sorry, man. We underestimated her dislike for running, didn't thought it would break her." "It's okay," Steve shook the outstretched hands one by one, holding Y/N's unconsciously little longer,"I'm Steve. Nice to meet you."

"I'm James." Bucky, finally catching his breath nodded his head and looked at Y/N, eyebrow raised:"Correct me if I'm wrong but aren't you the girl that girl who was pushed into the duck pond last week, by some big dog playing fetch?" Round of laughter passed as Y/N nodded her head and sighed. "Week before that I slipped on a puddle and took down a running lady."

While Y/N's face was slowly gaining it's normal colour, she watched Steve in the corner of her eye. Now that they were standing, she could see that man was standing tall, unlike his friend who was, despite being almost same height, slightly hunched over, as if trying to be less noticeable or appear less threatening. "Y/N?" Y/N flinched as a hand appeared in front of her face, snapping her out of her bubble. "I have to go back, this took longer than I thought. Are you staying with Jake for another lap or what?" Martin asked, puffing out air at Y/N's horrified expression.

"Please don't make me." Slight tremble in her voice expressed the horror of that thought, ignoring the fake offended gasp of her friend. She could swear she saw a bling of disappointment in Steve's eyes.

"Same goes for us, Stevie." Bucky patted Steve on the back, his eyes shifting between his best friend and Y/N, who were both trying very hard to steal a glance at each other while failing miserably. "I quess we will be seeing you tomorrow?" Satisfied with hums of agreement, Bucky thrown his arm around Steve's shoulder, clicking his tongue. "Punk, You've got it bad!" "....Yeah."

´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´ "You've got to talk to him more." "Maybe invite him to that nice new coffee shop that opened nearby!" "Or just smile at him, dude looked smitten already." "Or pretend to trip and fall in his big, muscular arms like a damsel." "With the way she looked at Steve yesterday, she will not have to pretend to trip, her knees will give out by themselves!"

These were the words Jake and Martin barged in Y/N's flat with, once again with much more energy than should be be allowed in the morning. Not giving her a chance to think of reply, she was already in her running clothes, shirt a size smaller and not even hers, hugging her curves more.

"In what universe do you guys think I could possibly flirt or make a move on a hot guy?" Y/N pushed out of herself, trying her hardest to keep her breathing slow. 'Inhale with nose, hold, exhale with mouth.' That was her mantra as she ran, her friends jogging beside her with ease. Temperature was lower than yesterday, something Y/N really appreciated as cool breeze stroke her skin. Not that it helped that much when she remembered the way she acted yesterday, heat striking her face as she recalled the number of times Steve caught her staring at him. Deep in her thoughts, she didn't notice the conniving smiles Jake and Martin exchanged.

Three slips and lots of internal cursing later, a huge oak tree appeared in the distance, the sight causing Y/N's stomach to churn with both excitement and jitters, the butterflies multiplying as she spotted two familiar figures standing next to the tree while third man was sat down, obviously trying to catch his breath, raising a middle finger at Bucky in an instance. Closer they got, the more could Y/N see, realising she knew the third person, a warning sign deep in her head started to flash. A thought bounced in her head, evading her grasp, missing that one piece that would complete the puzzle. Before she could finish the thought, they were few meters away from Steve, Bucky and Sam.

"Y/N?" Sam asked, carefully standing up, his eyes full of surprise. "You know each other?" Bucky asked incredulously while Steve's attention was jumping around from Sam to Y/N. "Yeah," Y/N nodded weakly,"umm, Jake, Martin, this is Sam. Sam helped my brother when he came back from Iraq TOD." "That's right, man was lucky to have his sister with him all the time." Sam smiled at Y/N, noticing a slight furrow on Steve's face and Bucky's smirk, putting two and two together. "What did you two do to make her get up from bad at this hour. If I remember correctly, Y/N here is not a morning person." "We have our ways." Jake said with angelic smile, jabbing Martin in the side as he muttered:"Even more reasons."

Weekend has many advantages. One of the main is one do not have to hurry. Being a regular weekdays 9-5 workers, Jake, Martin and Y/N made a habit of having a coffee at nearby coffee shop. For Steve, Bucky and Sam, work depended on the bad guys. They never knew when their phones will ring with an order. They just took any free moment to enjoy life. Running, having a chat Buck, train at the Tower with other Avengers, help cook or order a lunch and dinner and end the day with a movie in the main living room.

That is how Steve's free days usually went. At the end of it, he felt as relaxed as he could, trying his hardest to push the mantle of Captain away just for a day but at times, the tightness in his body let out at the evening at best. So now, at the time when the sun just showed up, he was surprised to find himself completely relaxed, sitting beneath the tree's shade, conversing and laughing with his friends and three people he met just yesterday.

His body was relaxed but his mind was buzzing as every nerve in his body was reacting to a woman sitting beside him. Soft breeze ruffled through her hair now and then, his sensitive nose picking the fresh smell of mint shampoo and her natural scent that came out after her body calmed down from the run. He couldn't help but admire the way Y/N talked, quiet at most times but peep in with quirky comments. Steve knew this feeling. It was more than just interest. Just like with Peggy, he couldn't think straight when she looked at him with her Y/E/C eyes, words coming out of his mouth either too polite or chopped in weird sentences.

He wanted to know more. About her. Y/N Y/L/N. He wanted to know more about her likes and dislikes, about her brother she so lovingly talked about, about her relationship with her two neighbors she called 'her idiots' in most loving way. Steve wanted to know what songs she sings when she has a good mood. He wanted to know it all. The good and the bad.

"Wow. It's late again." Martin checked his phone, throwing a side-eye at his boyfriend. "Do you guys have any plans for later?" He turned to Steve,"You free around 12? How about you, Y/N? You know, after shower." Martin baraged his questions at them while Jake, Bucky and Sam stood up, smirking at the panic and confusion of their friends.

"I'm free?" Y/N looked at Steve, her heart hammering as she noticed him looking at her with a smile. "Yeah, me too." Their attention snapped back at the beaming man clapping his hand together.

"Great! Good. There is a reservation under my name Whitaker. You two enjoy the lunch! See you guys tomorrow!" A round of 'byes' filled the air as everyone run in different direction, leaving Y/N and Steve stumped in shock, still sitting on the grass.

Y/N jumped on the spot as Steve crackled up, pressing both hands on his ribs. Now he understood why Bucky had that gleeful smirk when he returned from his evening walk.

"I should have known something was off." Steve sighed and looked at Y/N, whose face returned to pink shade. "Can I invite you to a lunch totally planned by our friends?" He was worried, this is not how he would invite a girl out. So when Y/N smiled and took his hand, Steve felt the nervousness and excitement shot right up. He will have a chance to know all the good and bad. "You totally can."

THE END

#kits250challenge #avengersxreader #Avengers #steve rogers x reader #writing challenge

16 notes · View notes

october-rosehip · 4 years

Text

Long Night

(This is a flash fiction I contributed to a holiday anthology organized and edited by Rachel Sharp, called Gay Apparel. It is only available through the contributing authors, so DM me for details if you would like the whole thing.)

Dylan lay breathless in the dark for a long moment before knowing he sensed absence, not intrusion. Silence had woken him. The house loomed hollow above his basement, as it should, with his landlord's family away somewhere warm for the holidays. His ancient rescued desktop computer stood dark. His little space heater that looked like a science fiction sidekick had stilled. The power. His phone said 4:02 and 18 percent. Well. He supposed he'd better leave that alone.

Dylan carried the blankets around himself to the only window. Beyond the trees, the city and its encroaching gentrification reflected violet-orange against the clouds. Nothing glowed nearby, though. Streetlights are out. Not my job to fix it, then.

Not his job for anything. He had the solstice off, and since he sure as hell wasn't going home for the holidays to be insulted and deadnamed, he agreed to sling lattes on Christmas day instead.

“Will anybody actually come in?” he'd asked his boss.

“Oh, you wait,” she snorted.

Time and a half plus tips, then. Maybe he could get ahead a little, or buy a decent coat.

Waking now felt like luck. The trees sparkled even under cloudcover. Moore's “A Visit From St. Nicholas” came to mind. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow/ Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below...Not the moon, but the lustre was there, even so.

It beckoned.

Dylan threw on a million layers and crept outside, hesitant to shatter the silence. Ksssshhhkhkhkkhkh went the ice as his old boots crunched through it. His breath puffed. Trees whispered through a layer of ice like fairy crystal; a faint echo of his own sounds. Hsssh.

The world felt hollow as the house, at first. He lingered in the peace. No wakeful neighbors, no workmen tending the line that must be down somewhere. Something rested eyes on him, though. Were those tiny prints in the snow? Everything should hide from an ice storm like this, but if he squinted― yes. Something's been by, poor creature. On impulse, he ducked back inside and checked his fridge, lit with his phone. 17 percent. It was sad. Cream for his coffee, leftover scones from work, carrots, hummus, and something developing sentience in the back. A scone and a bowl of cream would have to do.

Dylan set them far enough from the door not to scare his visitor if it was shy, and went back inside to wrap up in blankets by the window.

Eyes flashed green from the treeline. Dylan held his breath. Something about this felt so tense, fragile. It's just a possum or something. But he shivered.

A cat emerged and darted across the yard, almost too fast to see. It stopped by the offering and attacked the cream first. Dylan wanted to apologize to the unassuming tabby, who probably shouldn't eat cream or scones.

He'd never seen such a remarkably catlike cat. Nothing unique about it at all, as if someone had seen a thousand cats and merged them into one animal. It looked up with a jolt, the scone in its mouth. Their eyes met. Neither moved for a hundred heartbeats.

“Would you like to come in, friend?” Dylan whispered. He didn't know what he expected, but certainly not what happened. The cat stood frozen a second longer, then slunk to the door. Still convinced it mattered somehow, he crept to the door and opened it just wide enough. The cat leaped inside and took Dylan's warm chair.

“You can stay with me if you like. Or go. It's so beautiful out, but so cold.”

The cat blinked once, and swallowed the bit of scone it still had.

Dylan's eyes felt heavy and he blinked as well. Tiredness made sense for four-something in the morning, but it felt sudden anyway. Something rustled like leaves. When he looked, a slender person with green, reflective eyes sat in his chair.

“Oh,” Dylan said. “Hello again.”

They flinched and looked down at their hands. “Oh, thorns.”

Dylan backed up and held his own hands out. “It's all right. I'll keep your secret. I'm good at it.” I'm probably dreaming. It doesn't matter. I can't be rude.

“You're not surprised?” They tilted their head at him. The cat...person...guest...wore clothes as worn as Dylan's own, and still had features as pointed as a cat's.

“Sure?” He brushed a hand through his messy, blue hair. “Priorities, though. It's warmish in here. And now you don't have fur.”

“You're a practical one. It's not that I'm a secret so much as that your people don't notice me.”

“Sounds nice.” Dylan sat down on the rug, weariness returning.

“I don't know.” His guest looked outside with a wistful expression. “Even though sometimes it's less alarming to go unnoticed, if you noticed us, perhaps your homes wouldn't be eating ours.”

“You mean all the developing they're doing is in your territory?”

“Yes. I've lived here a long time, but am not sure how long I can continue. All the fences and keep out signs make it so I have to.”

“I worry, too. The new buildings aren't for me, either. When someone offers my landlord enough money, I'll have to go.”

“Go where?”

Dylan shrugged.

A comfortable silence fell. They each understood.

Dylan startled awake for the second time that morning when his rainbow lights blinked on and his android-looking space heater whirred to life. The sky glowed rosy through the window, and a catlike cat blinked at him from his chair.

Not alone for the holidays after all, maybe. “I don't suppose you'd like to stay, while we both can?”

The reply was a chirp like laughter, and a settling deeper into the chair, with more weight than a cat should possess.

#Yule #original fiction #rosehiporiginal #Gay Apparel #I'm self nominating this for an award and had to put it somewhere #unseasonal though it may be #what is time anyway

15 notes · View notes

war-sword · 5 years

Text

what can i get you? (2)

part 2 | index | masterlist

draco x female reader [muggle AU, slightly aged up]

summary: One handsome Draco Malfoy is the only boy you trust at your new job to tie your ties. words: 3,139 a/n: i’m so glad y’all are liking this it validates me in that this isn’t boring as fuck :D once again too many details i looked up for this HAHAHA. also in case you missed it last time this story has a playlist! it’s a mix of songs i hear a lot while at my job and also others i name/ envision in this story. taglist: @clockworkherondale @accio-rogers @mayorofzillyhoo @diademofdraco @drawlfoy @ladybuginthetardis @silversslytherin @lushlavenderskies @socontagiousimagines @acciodracoo @eltanin-malfoy @maceyisntcool @newhopenessie @hp-slaps

read the rest of my masterlist

◈◈◈

The next time you work, it’s a much smaller event; a charity fundraiser at a small venue (this meant just plain black collared shirts, no ties, thank goodness). There’s only six people working including you, and you’re a little sad to see that Draco isn’t one of them. Luckily, Pansy is there, and none of the people are interested in the goat cheese and date appetizers you’ve been passing, so you sit on the metal kitchen counters with her, Theo and Blaise and eat them.

“Buffet parties are so nice,” Blaise sighs, putting another tiny piece of flatbread into his mouth. “We only really bus once. The dream.”

Pansy picks up the piece of paper that has the catering itinerary and menu printed out on it. “Holy fuck, this party ends at nine thirty. I might actually get to sleep at a normal time tonight.”

“What, no, let me see!” Theo rips the paper from her hands, and looks at it with a surprised expression. “Oh, shit, it does.”

Pansy does a little dance, and Blaise takes a photo of the paper with his phone. A minute later it buzzes with a notification, and he laughs as he reads it. “Yo, Draco is cheesed. He’s at the other party with Gabrielle in Brixton, he probably won’t get back ‘till one.”

“Poor bastard,” says Theo. “Take a photo.”

Blaise opens up his Snapchat camera, and you all squeeze into the frame. Theo poses with a goat cheese flatbread up to his mouth. Blaise captions it “sucks to suck”, and hits send. Draco responds almost immediately.

The photo is only of the top half of his face, and from the angle you can tell he’s in the kitchen. “This wedding has three courses, kill me,” is one caption. Another textbox right below says “tell new girl I said hey xx”.

You can feel all three of your coworkers staring at you as the Snapchat expires. “Give me that,” you say to Blaise, and they all laugh. Blaise hands you his phone. You take a similar photo, furrowing your brows. “calling me new girl? and xx-ing in the same sentence? the audacity.” you caption it. Draco takes less than ten seconds to snap back.

This one is once again, the top half of his face, but features one of his perfectly-shaped brows in a high arch. “how else am I supposed to make an impression?” it says, with “add me, dmalfoy17” below.

The snap was a full seven seconds, and you stare at it until it expires. You hand Blaise back his phone and whip your own out from your back pocket.

“What’d he say?” Pansy asks, snatching the last flatbread away from Theo’s hand.

“Something cheeky,” you shrug, playing it off. Meanwhile, you open Snapchat and type in his username into the ‘add friend’ bar.

“Typical,” Theo mumbles, watching wistfully as Pansy eats the last appetizer. “I’m going to go check on how the tables are looking, see how many people have food so far.”

Draco Malfoy added you back!

You Snapchat Draco every chance you get as you finish up at your party, and once everything is packed you help take everything down to the loading dock and pack the truck. You and Pansy walk to your cars together, and you take a video of the two of you captioned “we out ” with the timestamp sticker reading a blissful 9:43. Draco sends back a photo of himself in the kitchen again, a text box full of angry emojis.

You say goodnight to Pansy. “You’re working tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah,” she says, standing on the doorframe of her car to look at you over the roof. “At Sunbeam Studios. You?”

“Same.”

“Nice,” she smiles. “I think most of us will be there, it’s supposed to be a big one. See you then.”

You hop in your own car and clock out. When you get home you take a quick shower and collapse into bed. You have three new Snapchats from Draco. In one of them he says he’s also working at Sunbeam tomorrow, and you smile in spite of yourself. You take a photo of you snuggled in your sheets, and caption it “going to sleep now just to flex on you. see you tomorrow.” You send it and put your phone on your bedside table. The buzz of your notifications cuts through the silence of your room, but you resist the urge to check them.

The next day you arrive at Sunbeam and clock in. This venue is much bigger than the other’s, and when you walk through the back door your guess is confirmed that tonight will be a fancy wedding. Sure enough, Gabrielle hands you your uniform and asks you to go ahead and change, directing you to a closet.

You put on the dress shirt and slip the vest on, and lastly tackle the tie. You thread it under your collar, and try to repeat the steps Draco showed you last week. Over, across, wait, that doesn’t look right. Which end was the short one? You try a few more methods and then sigh in defeat. You put your normal shirt into your backpack and leave the closet in search of one boy.

You walk around the back, which is bigger than the other venues you’ve been to, and find Draco in the kitchen. He’s still dressed in his street clothes and is helping organize trays of food to be heated that other people are bringing in from the truck. You walk up and tap him on the shoulder.

“Oh, hey! Wow, you’re on time.”

He looks so genuinely excited to see you that you can’t help but grin. “Help?” You hold up the ends of your tie.

“Of course.” Draco takes up your tie and starts to knot it. You don’t even try to pay attention.

“Who else is here?”

“Just you so far, besides those of us who came from the warehouse with the truck. Gabrielle is about to loose her fucking mind if the rest of you don’t start showing up. She needs all the passers to help her make the bread boards and set up the salad course.” He finishes your tie and gives it a little tap, and then another to the end of your nose. Your chest feels like it’s collapsing in on itself.

“You’re not serving tonight?” You busy yourself with the buttons on your vest as you talk.

Draco leans against the counter and pulls a face. “No, sorry. They need me in the kitchen.” He nods his head in the direction of the door that must lead to the reception area. “Gabrielle’s out there, you should probably go.”

“Sorry,” you say, walking around the other side of the counter. “I’m still trying to process this betrayal.”

“I’m sorry! I’ll make you a box and save you some cake.” He leans on his elbows, looking up at you as you rest your back on the door. “Just come hang out with me in here when you’re not bussing– it’s a buffet so there should be some downtime. I’ll just yell at the others if they try to take a break back here.”

You laugh and try to think of something tricky to reply with when the door is ripped out from behind you, causing you to stumble backwards. Draco snorts.

“Y/N! Come on, I need your help. Draco, stop distracting her!” Gabrielle does look incredibly flustered.

“I was just coming,” you say, and Draco holds up his hands in mock surrender.

You help Gabrielle arrange various breads on trays, along with scoops of hummus and goat cheese. You’re adding olives to the trays when Pansy walks in, doing the last buttons on her vest. Gabrielle practically throws a box of crackers at her and tells her to start adding them on, rambling on about how stressed she is. “...And then we left two boxes of food at the warehouse and I had to go back and get it… luckily we’re the closest. If it was the other party we’re doing tonight I would’ve lost my mind. That one’s all the way in Watford, they never would’ve made it back and forth in time.”

You politely listen, nodding when appropriate. You’re finishing the trays when Greg and Vincent walk in, in the midst of doing their ties and putting on the vests. Gabrielle yells at them to finish getting dressed later and to start assembling salads, shoving a bag of greens into Greg’s arms and a bag of shredded carrot to Vincent. “We’ll just assemble them on the plates out here. Please be neat.”

You fill water glasses while they walk around and make the salads directly onto the plates, assembly line style. Pansy is following behind Greg, adding raisins to the beds of greens he’s laying down. You watch her for a moment as she adjusts the amount of salad on each plate, taking from plates with too much and adding to ones with too little before sprinkling her raisins. You catch her eye and she shakes her head furiously at Greg’s incompetence.

Once all the glasses are filled, you help set out the bread trays onto the tables and head to the back to take a break while everyone waits for the guests to arrive from the ceremony. Draco and Theo are the only ones in the kitchen tonight, opening boxes of food and assembling appetizers onto trays. You grab the menu sheet off of the cooler and skim it. As usual, it all sounds delicious.

“These people must love mexican food,” Pansy says, looking over your shoulder. “Who asks for two types of tacos at their wedding?”

“White people who want to be funky,” Theo says, pulling a pan of the goat cheese flatbreads from the oven and replacing it with one of chopped fried fish.

Draco pulls the wrapping off a cardboard box to reveal miniature taco shells made from blue corn. “I don’t think we’ve ever made these.”

Gabrielle bursts into the kitchen to tell the four of you who helped set up to start passing. The goat cheese and tomato mozzarella flatbreads are the only thing that’s ready. You and Pansy each put on a single glove and place six appetizers around the edges of your circular serving trays, grab some napkins and head out.

You weave through guests in the lobby, the pleasant sound of the string quartet that’s in the corner filling your ears. A group of bridesmaids in seafoam dresses stop you before you get very far and wipe your tray clean. Clearly everyone is starving, because they ask you to come back as soon as you can.

When you return to the kitchen, Draco has a specially shaped wooden board with six tiny tacos in the little grooves ready for you. “They’re so cute. What’s in them?” You ask as you put down your empty tray for Theo to refill and pick up the board to examine them

Draco pauses in filling another taco and looks over at the menu paper. “Uh, sriracha chicken. Want to try?”

You nod. You move to put down the board, but Draco holds out the one he just made, and you open your mouth. You try to eat it as neatly as you can in one bite from his hand. He gives you a questioning look, and you nod approvingly. “‘S good,” you say after swallowing.

“Hey, stop stealing from the guests,” Theo teases. He leans towards Draco and opens his mouth dramatically. “I wanna get fed, too.”

“Get your own,” Draco deadpans.

You laugh at Theo’s offended face, and hurry out of the kitchen to hide your blush. It’s not from the spice.

Tiny tacos are a big hit. You abandon passing the flatbread appetizers, waiting in the kitchen every time for Draco to fill your board. When he opens the next box of miniature shells, you’re all surprised to see that they’re yellow. Twenty minutes after that, the final box is filled with red ones. “If I’d known they were different, I would’ve mixed them!”

“You’re fired, Draco,” Pansy mocks. “Out of the kitchen. You’re never allowed to touch tacos again.”

There’s a short break for the passers while the guests recess into the reception room and eat the salad course. Then you’re sent out to start collecting plates, and to tell the guests the buffet is open for them to get food at their leisure.

The night goes on like usual– out on the floor, try not to drop any dishes, someone asks for a new fork, bus the plates in the back. This venue has a place for outdoor bussing, which you find nice since the weather is pleasant. Once it hits 9:30, it’s a struggle to take plates from guests who are still eating or sipping the very last of their drinks, as usual. You haven’t taken a break all night, because every time you would head out onto the floor there were dishes on every table to take. You dump the ice from some cocktail glasses into the liquids bucket and peek around the corner to where the truck is parked. Greg and Vincent are sitting on the back of the truck, sharing a cigarette and staring at their phones. You sigh in annoyance and put the glasses into their designated crate. If those two can take a break, you’re going to also.

You walk back into the building and into the kitchen. Draco’s the only one in there, sitting on a cooler and checking his phone as well. “Hey.”

He looks up as you settle onto the cooler next to him, stretching out your legs and popping your neck. “Hey. They keeping you busy out there?” Draco asks.

“Yes,” you sigh. “That, and Pansy and I are the only ones bussing. Greg and Vincent are out at the truck skiving off.”

“I’ll put Gabrielle on them,” Draco says. “They’re always doing that. At least they’re learning to not hang around where I can see them.”

“Where’s Theo?” You rub on your right shoulder– it’s gotten incredibly tight from carrying your heavy tray all night.

“Cutting the cake. You’ll have those plates soon, and that’ll be it.” Draco sets his phone on the counter and shifts towards you, motioning for you to turn also. “Let me.”

Draco digs his thumbs into your tense muscles and you can’t help but groan. “Ugh, that feels heavenly.”

“You’ve got to switch the arms you carry with, Y/N. You’re so much tighter on the right.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, leaning into his touch.

The bliss of having Draco’s hands work your tense muscles is sadly short lived. Theo comes into the kitchen with the rest of the cake, having served all the guests. It’s got three different layers, vanilla, chocolate, and carrot, and you have a tiny slice of each.

“We’re gonna go take down the buffet, what do you want me to save you?” Draco says, boxing up the untouched top layer of cake to put in the refrigerator for the new couple.

“Just some of the mac n cheese and veggies, please.” You grab your bussing tray and head back out onto the floor. Greg and Vincent have reappeared, and when there’s only a few tables left with cake plates you head to the back again. Draco is loading up the truck while Theo cleans the kitchen. “Want me to bring you these glass crates?” You call to Draco.

“Please!”

You carry the crates of glasses and dirty dishes from the bussing area to Draco in the back of the truck. You’re pretty strong, but Draco takes even the heaviest crates from you with ease. Why are boys allowed to be so muscular for no reason?

“We’re missing some glasses, did you get everything off the floor?” Draco leans against the wall inside truck, looking down at you on the ground. He’s shiny with sweat, and he lifts up the bottom of his shirt to wipe his forehead off, giving you a great view of his toned abdomen.

“Uh.” You continue to stare at him even as he drops his shirt, your mouth going dry. “I’m pretty sure.”

“Hopefully they’ll turn up.” Draco checks his watch. “It’s already eleven, why do people never want to fucking leave?”

You turn around to glance at the windows, still glowing blue from the lights inside, ‘Build Me Up Buttercup’ easily heard even from outside. You stare at the lights for a few seconds, trying to blink away the image of shirtless Draco from your mind. “Dunno.”

When you turn back, he’s staring at you now. Draco jumps off the back of the truck and lands lightly beside you. “Let’s go help Theo in the kitchen, see if we can get everything else ready.”

The rest of the supplies are pretty much packed and ready to be brought to the truck. Everyone who had put on a uniform is changing back into their street clothes, and Pansy is taking off her dress shirt in the middle of the kitchen without a care. You momentarily wonder what would happen if you decided that bold, but end up going out into the hall to slip out of your uniform.

They’ve finally turned on the lights in the reception room, and you all head out to do one last sweep of the floor, checking under tablecloths for stray forks or napkins. You find a few and carry them to the back, and the few glasses you were missing earlier make their appearance. Gabrielle shoos you all from the kitchen at last, telling you to go home.

You put your takeout box Draco had made you into your backpack and head towards the parking lot, when you hear footsteps catching up with you. It’s Draco, and he’s carrying a giant bunch of white flowers that you recognize as the centerpieces from the tables. “Are you stealing?” You chide.

“See, I was going to give you some, but now I’m rethinking it,” he smirks. “I sometimes like to take them. My mum loves white lilies.”

“That’s sweet.”

You’ve reached your car, and he stops with you, holding out the giant bunch. “Pick some.”

You make a serious face as you select a handful of flowers and bring them up to your nose. They still smell wonderful. “Thanks, Draco.”

“No problem.” He throws you a wink and turns on his heel. “See you next week, Y/N.”

You get into your car and clock out, setting the flowers on your dashboard. When you get back to your flat you carefully arrange them in one of your tallest glasses in some water, and set them on your counter. They’re a nice reminder to get you through your week.

◈◈◈

don’t you wish draco malfoy would give you a shoulder massage on the clock and give you flowers.... damn

#draco x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #hp fanfic #hp #my writing

139 notes · View notes

bowlegsandbiceps · 4 years

Text

Suptober Day 4: Daydream

Technically

Explicit / Case!Fic - Djinn / Destiel / 6,130 words

Read on AO3

Suptober Masterlist (A03)

This is Dean Winchester. Leave your name, number, and nightmare at the tone.

Castiel sat behind the wheel of the Continental and sighed, his head falling back against the rest as he swallowed thickly. “Hello, Dean. Just wanted to check-in. I’m in-“ Castiel leaned forward, peering at the flag pole in front of the police station and tried to remember if the yellow flag with the red sun was New Mexico or Arizona, “-New Mexico now, still following that trail of disappearances. All indicators are pointing to a Djinn, possibly many of them.”

Castiel closed his eyes and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose as he hooked his elbows over the steering wheel. “Dean, there’s something I need to tell you. Well, I did tell you, but it turned out you’d been transported into that animation with the talking dog, and then I was also-“ Castiel dropped his forehead to his forearm and sighed. “When I got the fruit from the Tree of Life, the tree was guarded by a pack of Djinn. I killed most of them and managed to bargain with the rest. I think… I ended up married to their queen.” Castiel winced. “Technically. Uh, given that revelation, I might require your assistance when I’ve located them. I’ll keep you abreast of the situation. Give Sam my regards.”

Castiel felt his stomach churn, wishing he’d just hung up. He’d wanted to tell Dean in person or at least in real-time. Dean hated deals. Especially hated when Castiel made them without consulting him first, which Castiel never did, so they seemed to be frequently at odds these days. Castiel shook his head and leaned back again, fingers twisting around the wheel. Dean wouldn’t be mad. He’d probably think it was hilarious that Castiel ended up King of a monster clan. Technically.

This is my voicemail. Please make your voice… a mail.

Dean rolled his eyes as the tone sounded, dragging his feet against concrete as he wandered around the end of a table.

“Cas. It’s Dean, technically returning your call,” Dean chuckled to himself before he became momentarily distracted by Sam coming out of the kitchen with a plate and licked his lips. “Uh, I don’t remember you talking about any Djinn wedding. Technically or otherwise.” Dean made his way over, Sam giving a bewildered look of concern. Dean waved him off, snatching a cracker from the plate and examining it. “Sam’s hurt he wasn’t invited.” Sam glared at him. He popped the cracker into his mouth but stopped mid-chew to make a disgusted face. “Ugh, how did they manage to fuck up a cracker? Anyway, call us back with details. We’ll check out the lore in the meantime.”

“Djinn wedding?” Sam asked, lifting an eyebrow as Dean wrinkled his nose regarding the hummus and almond crackers on his plate.

“Cas apparently bartered his maidenhood for that fruit that opened the portal to Apocalypse World.” Dean lifted his hands and made air quotes. “Technically”

Both of Sam’s eyebrows lifted as he blinked at his brother. “Are... are you okay?”

Dean’s face shifted in confusion, “Me? Ye-ah… Did you mean him?”

“No. Well, yeah. I mean, of course, but...”

“But what?” Dean crossed his arms over his chest and shot him a critical look.

“You...” Sam pressed his lips together and then heaved a sigh, his shoulders sagging. “I know how you are about Cas.”

Dean’s arms tightened. “And how is that?”

Sam blinked. Dean blinked back and Sam’s lips twitched trying to hide a smile. “Technically?” Dean rolled his eyes. “Protective.”

Dean snorted, arms falling back to his sides. “Yeah, of him and everyone else. Whatever, we need to research monster divorces. Let’s go.”

This is Sam Winchester’s voicemail. Leave a message at the beep.

Castiel tugged at his tie, loosening it around his neck as he dropped his keys on the dresser. He pressed his lips together in frustration as the tone sounded.

“Sam, hello. It’s Cas.” He heaved a sigh. “I called your brother but haven’t heard back…” Castiel checked his pockets, wondering suddenly if he’d called from his main phone or one of the others. He shook his head. “Uh, I’ve narrowed the location of the clan down to a cave system on federal land. I have an appointment to tour the cavern that’s open to the public this afternoon, but the system covers over 200 miles, most of which is unexplored. They could be anywhere.” Cas heaved another sigh. “I… I think the queen is with them.” Cas ran a hand down his face. “Hope you’re well.”

Castiel brought the phone from his ear, looking at it for a moment before he ended the call, and as he set it down, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked haggard, deep circles under his eyes, and he knew he needed to get more sleep. He looked at the bed, contemplating.

Castiel started to dream of the Djinn Queen shortly after arriving in New Mexico. Dreaming was still new and unsettling to him; the fact that his human mind could conjure sights and smells…feel touch in such vivid clarity only for it all to be imagination was difficult to fathom. A certain part of him, the one that still remembered being a full-fledged angel, that witnessed God imagine entire ecosystems into existence, feared the power of such episodes. Could he, fallen angel that he was with barely a speck of grace left, unwittingly dream horror into existence? Or, perhaps more terrifying to him, a deeply buried desire?

Ultimately his fatigue won out, and Castiel was asleep before his head hit the mattress. He found himself in the passenger seat of the Impala as she cut through the black night, the only things visible the quarter-mile of road in her high beams and what little of the interior was illuminated by the dashboard glow. Dean had one wrist hanging over the wheel, his arm resting on the seatback, fingertips so close to Cas’ shoulder he could almost feel the heat of them. He was singing along to the radio with a level of comfort Castiel only ever saw from him when he was drunk but with none of the additional camp.

Tell me now, baby, is he good to you? Can he do to you the things that I do? I can take you higher…

Dean’s smooth baritone was dark and rich over the non-lexical vocals before adding a bit of growl. I’m on fire.

Green eyes met Cas’ full-on, Dean’s face haunting in the low light, and Cas felt his stomach bottom out. One hand still on the wheel, Dean’s other finally moved to his shoulder, and Dean was leaning over, the car impossibly staying on the road straight as an arrow. Cas felt the heat of Dean’s breath against his lips, his vessel’s heart slamming into his rib cage, and just as they were about to connect, Dean began to dissolve, turning to wisps of smoke that swirled with the darkness.

Cas squinted, blinking as black lightened to purple, and out of the fog walked a woman, willow limbed and dark, golden tattoos glittering on terra cotta skin. Her inky black hair was covered in a golden scarf, the plait falling over her shoulder down to her waist, body wrapped in silks. Castiel swallowed hard, feeling a prickling sense of danger as he looked into her large almond eyes.

“Castiel.”

Her voice was a whisper or maybe an echo. It tickled his ears, and he found himself frozen and unable to move as her hand lifted, palm pressing directly over his heart.

Castiel woke with a gasp, body rising into a sitting position on sheer adrenaline alone. He looked around, disoriented, taking in the mystery stains on the carpet and the cracks in the plaster. He breathed in and out slow with eyes closed until he once again felt grounded.

You have reached the voicemail box of: I don’t understand. Why… why do you want me to say my name?

Sam snorted a laugh as the beep sounded, glancing over his shoulder at Dean, who was squinting at a shelf of books, fingers skimming spines.

“Hey Cas, it’s Sam. Sorry, I missed you; uh, sounds like you could use that help now, buddy. Send your coordinates, and we’ll get out there. Dean says hi.”

“Yeah yeah,” Dean grumbled, waving a hand at Sam who’d held his phone out to Dean, and Sam laughed.

“Call us back, man. Bye.”

“Can you believe he married some monster queen to get that wackadoo fruit?” Dean’s eyes lit up as he found the title he was looking for and pulled it from the shelf.

“Since the fruit was for you, yeah, I can.” It was muttered under Sam’s breath, so he wasn’t surprised when Dean squinted at him and brought two fingers up to touch his earlobe. “Nothing. Yeah, Cas, King of the Djinn. Who’dduh thunk?”

You’ve reached C- uh… Steve’s voicemail. Pl-please, call me back. I mean, I’ll leave you a message. Wait…

“Yeah, okay, Steve. It’s Dean. I dunno if you still check this number but… uh, I know we’ve been playing phone tag for a bit, but you’ve technically been It for a while now, which… you probably have no idea what I’m talking about… see ‘It’ is a game of- you know what? Just call me back.”

This is Dean’s other, other cell so, you must know what to do.

“Dean. It’s me. I believe I’ve located my- the clan. Does the lore mention anything about Dreamwalking? My vess- I’m very tired. I’m going to try Sam.”

Hey, Sam can’t come to the phone right now because he’s waxing, like everything, but leave a message and- Dude, what are you doing with my phone? Dean! Come on!

“Sam, it’s Castiel. As I told Dean’s mailbox, I believe I’ve located m- the clan of Djinn. A guide from the cave tour helped me narrow down the options, and I’ve spent the afternoon- It doesn’t matter; I’ve determined it’s one of two locations, though, which is anyone’s guess. Let me know when you’re on your way and I’ll text you coordinates. I need- I’m going to lay down. I’ve put a chair in front of the door in case I sleepwalk again.”

This is Agent Beyonce with the FBI. Please leave your name and number at the tone, and I will return your call.

“Jesus, Cas you gotta quit with… never mind. I texted you when we left but, uh we’re crossing the state line into Oklahoma now. Seriously, pick up. Your messages were weird even for you… Sam’s starting to worry… You know how he is, the big dumb moose. Anyway, send your coordinates and let us know you didn’t go off and do something stupid.”

This is my voicemail. Please make your voice… a mail.

“Hey, Cas, it’s Sam. We just crossed into New Mexico, and we still haven’t heard from you. Only two national parks here, so I guess we’ll just hit Carlsbad first unless we hear from you… Uh, call one of us back, okay? Dean’s… freakin’ out. See you soon, buddy.

You have reached the voicemail box of: I don’t understand. Why… why do you want me to say my name?

“CAS! Where the hell are you, man? If you’ve just fucked off to Heaven or some shit and are not actually in danger I’m going to technically kick your ass. ”

This is Agent Beyonce with the FBI. Please leave your name and number at the tone, and I will return your call.

“I swear to god Cas if you make me ask Rowena for help I will fucking… ugh.”

This is my voicemail. Please make your voice… a mail.

Voicemail box is full.

You have reached the voicemail box of: I don’t understand. Why… why do you want me to say my name?

Voicemail box is full.

This is Agent Beyonce with the FBI. Please leave your name and number at the tone, and I will return your call.

Voicemail box is full.

This is Dean Winchester. If this is an emergency, leave a message. If this is about the Lincoln Continental, text me your coordinates.

“Hello, Dean, I got your message about our sweet angel and that is just awful! I am beside myself with worry for the poor lad. I would love to help you find him but I am just completely covered up at the moment trying to work out this convunctionation spell and, well, you know how tricky those are even with the Book of the Damned at your disposal. If I could just get a wee peek at the Book, I could wrap this up and work out a triangulation on our dear Castiel post haste! Oh and please tell Samuel I said hello. I miss our chats…”

“I still don’t think we should have given her the conjunctivitis spell,” Dean grumbled, wiping sweat from his upper lip, thighs burning as they trudged through the sand.

“It’s convunc- it doesn’t matter.” Sam huffed, making a disgruntled face as he pushed the damp hair from his forehead. “Ugh It’s gotta be a hundred and ten out here.”

Dean snorted, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. “At least. I got swamp ass like you would not believe.”

“Gross, dude.”

“Oh, what like you don’t?” Dean gave him a look, and Sam pressed his lips together in his version of bitchface that indicated he was trying to avoid Dean calling him out on his bitchface. “How much farther?”

Sam looked down at his phone, the red dot that was them a mere blip away from the green dot of their location. “Another mile. Dean, are you… do you think I should go in first? A-alone.”

Dean gave him a look that implied he was taking strong consideration into poking him with the silver knife in his hand. “No?”

Sam sighed. “I mean, the… the lore was pretty explicit. If we interrupt the mating ritual-”

“Not gonna happen. Cas can’t get laid to save his life.”

Sam opened his mouth to remind him of April but closed it again, thinking better of it. “I’m just saying. Given… you know… the tension between you guys-”

“Tension? What tension?” Dean’s face screwed up in annoyance, and Sam merely blinked at him, his lips a thin, unimpressed line. “Look, it’s not like I ain’t walked in on anyone mid-bone before.” Dean snorted and threw a hand at him. “I’ve walked in on you mid-bone more times than-”

“Alright, alright,” Sam adjusted the pack on his shoulder and tried to ignore the heat crawling up his neck.

“I still don’t get why you get so embarrassed about it.”

“Because you always start cheering as soon as you realize what’s happening, Dean!” Sam snapped, his voice rising an octave, and Dean sniggered, throwing an arm around his brother.

“Well, it always looks like you could use the encouragement.”

Castiel stood naked, feet shoulder-width apart and arms at his sides with his palms facing forward and tried very hard to pretend he was somewhere else. Four female Djinn all equally naked surrounded him, the tattoos that covered every inch of their loose and sagging skin faded to a dull green. Each elder wielded a brush, and the sensation of horsehair bristles on different parts of him - right foot, the outside of his left thigh, between his shoulder blades and around his navel - all at once disoriented him.

He’d been standing for hours, maybe days, clothed at first as the Djinn Queen heard arguments from challengers to his reign. Luckily only two had been found worthy, and the fight to the death was swift with each. Djinn had no head for battle and Castiel, while not exactly thrilled that he’d played an active part in winning the Djinn Queen, was happy to at least live another day to give Dean and Sam a chance to rescue him.

A brush tickled at the back of his knee, and he jerked, the movement prompting a guard to send a pulse of blue light into his lower back.

Cas’ eyes snapped open as a shrill scream pierced his consciousness. He blinked in the blue light of a laptop screen where a girl hung from a meathook. Just as a chainsaw started up, a hand slid up to hit the spacebar, the thing wearing a mask of human skin frozen on the screen. An arm around his shoulders tugged him in tighter.

“d’I lose ya there, buddy?”

Castiel twisted his neck to look up, and sparkling green eyes struck him dumb, the fond smile gracing Dean’s lips like none Castiel had ever seen before. His eyes tracked the movement as Dean leaned in, Cas’ eyes crossing as plush lips pressed to his hairline, then between his eyes, then the tip of his nose, and before Castiel even knew what was happening, he felt a finger hook under his chin, tilting his head up just a fraction more, and those lips were on his.

He felt a surge of energy crackle along his skin though he remained motionless, and he felt Dean’s smile as the lights around them flickered. “Easy tiger.”

Castiel could only blink as Dean reached to close the laptop, leaning over the side of the bed to place it on the floor before coming back in with both hands, taking Castiel’s face and holding it with such reverence as his eyes searched Castiel’s. His brow creased.

“You okay?”

Castiel’s eyelids fluttered as Dean’s thumbs smudged his cheekbones, a tender gesture meant to soothe before one stretched to smooth the crinkle in his brow, and Castiel could only nod. He felt… amazing. Warm and clean and… powerful. The lights flickered again as he reached out with his grace, feeling his wings twitch and spread. Dean’s face smoothed to awe as his eyes flicked over Cas’ shoulder and back again. Dean’s mouth snapped shut, lips puckering as if trying to hold in a laugh, but he ultimately failed, snorting a bit as his face broke into a wide grin. Castiel felt his own lips part as a smile tugged at the corners.

“Quit.” Dean reached to pinch at Castiel’s nipple through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, and Cas’ back arched. Dean grinned harder. “Not that I don’t appreciate the mating dance, but it’s hell on the wiring. Let’s just get down to business, hmm?” Dean was smiling right until their lips met and…

Sharp pain in the back of his head brought Castiel back to reality, and he realized he was on his knees, hands braced against the stone floor. The Elders flocked to him then, screeching and swatting at the young guard who was being dragged back by another. Their shouts were a cacophony in his head though they made no sound. He hadn’t been able to hear them before now, only the queen.

He looked down at himself as the old females hooked arms under his elbows, urging him back up to his feet, and saw that every inch of his skin was covered in golden ink, like an elaborate henna tattoo. He recognized the shapes on his arms, seeing similar on his Qu- the queen. He wondered how long he’d been out and what’d they’d done to him during that time.

Castiel winced as a booming voice, echoed in his head. “The time has come. Her majesty Queen Raisa approaches to claim her consort!”

Castiel looked up and, at the entrance of the cave, saw the silhouette of a figure and was struck dumb by the beauty of her. She seemed to glide toward him, the maids that flanked her sides, casting juniper blossoms at her feet as she made her way towards him, the thin shift of white silk doing little to hide the shape of her body. Her black hair hung down her back in shining waves, framed her heart-shaped face, and he found his arms reaching out to her, fingers grappling as she came within arms reach. Her hand caught his, palm soft in his own.

A flash of a dream or maybe a memory hit his mind like a discordant note - warm skin against his, hands traveling over the flat planes and hard muscles of a back, the scrape of stubble against his neck - and then it was gone. Castiel blinked hard, the face of his queen coming into focus once again, and she blinked, her tender brow wrinkling ever so slightly. Castiel brought his hands up to hold her face, thumbs smoothing away her worry. The gesture… it felt… familiar, but not as if he’d done it before as if it’d been done to him.

“Get away from him!”

The echo of a voice against the stone walls nearly brought Castiel to his knees after what felt to him like an eternity of physical silence. Gunshots boomed, and Castiel wanted to reach for his queen but felt as if his ears were bleeding. She had ahold of him, her head turned towards the entrance of the cave while her hands wrapped around his elbows to keep him from sinking to the ground.

It was too bright, Castiel’s eyes watering as he tried to look past her and saw Dean hurtling towards them at full tilt, knife raised. His queen’s attention begged for his own, and he obeyed, eyes moving to hold hers as Dean took a flying leap from the cavern floor up onto the dais.

Castiel wanted to shout, to warn, or stand to protect, but his queen held him steady, her dark eyes conveying the silent request to stay still, and he gladly complied, though anxiety prickled along his skin. Dean appeared over her shoulder, glowing at the edges just like when he’d found him in Hell, so very bright Castiel had to squint. The Djinn Queen turned just as Dean was about to bring the blood-soaked silver knife down, and Castiel felt her grip slide down to his wrist, thumb aligning with his pulse point as her other hand caught Dean in the same place. Blue light engulfed all three.

Dean was pressing kisses down the center of his chest, Castiel’s eyes blinking at the cracks in the ceiling, so he was unprepared for the wet warmth of Dean’s mouth around the tip of his cock. He nearly arched completely off the bed, wide blue eyes crashing into lustful green before they skittered away. Dean’s hand came up to grip him, a steadying gesture as he licked his lips before taking him in again, this time sucking him in deeper, the flat of his velvet tongue pressing and rolling firmly against the sensitive spot beneath the head.

Castiel’s eyes rolled back, hand reaching to thread into too-short hair, dull nails scratching at Dean’s scalp when he couldn’t hold on. He was lost in the pleasure of it, Dean’s hands moving to run over his thighs as his mouth dropped all the way down. His own cry of ecstasy startled him, almost choking on it, and Dean’s mouth was suddenly gone.

Cas opened his eyes, feeling the mattress depress on either side of his legs at different intervals before Dean’s knees sunk into the sheets on either side of his hips. Castiel was mesmerized by him, miles of tanned, freckled skin, the muscles of his thighs bulging as he kneeled over him, one hand jerking himself lazily. Castiel watched Dean savor it, wetting his perfectly pink lips before biting the bottom one when he added a twist of his wrist at the end.

Castiel knocked Dean’s hand away, jealousy and lust mixing together as his own hand closed around Dean, watching the younger man’s head tip back, mouth opening in a silent ‘O’ of pleasure. Dean rocked into Cas’ fist, one hand reaching to run his fingertips over his own collarbone before flattening his palm against his chest and letting it slide down.

Cas watched as that hand disappeared over Dean’s hip to reach behind, the shadow of it falling between his legs, and Castiel’s mouth went dry, watching the roll of Dean’s shoulder and hearing his sharp gasp as he penetrated himself with his own fingers. Cas let go of Dean’s dick, reaching to grip his thighs hard, and Dean’s head fell back with a low moan, hips rocking against his own hand, quads tensing back against Castiel’s fingertips.

“I’m ready.”

Dean’s whisper was breathless as his fingers slipped out, one hand planting on Castiel’s chest as his other found Cas’ dick and positioned it at his entrance. A pulse of worry flashed through Cas but as Dean rubbed against him, teasing his hole with the tip of Cas’ cock, Castiel felt something flex inside him, and Dean gasped again. Suddenly the friction was slick and sloppy instead of damp and teasing.

“How’d you-“ Dean’s question was strangled off in a moan when the head of Castiel’s dick slipped in easily, almost on accident, and neither could form a coherent thought as Dean gave in to gravity and lust, sliding down to sit flush against Cas’ lap.

Castiel gulped in great lungfuls of air, the tight warmth around his cock, sending shivers across his skin and pulses of want tugging in his balls as the lights flickered again. His hands closed over Dean’s hips, a grounding touch and Dean’s head tipped forward, pupils blown wide with lust. Castiel’s shoulder blades flexed against the mattress, the flutter of wings sounding around them as Dean’s palms flattened against Castiel’s chest. He leaned forward, brow crinkling as Cas slipped out of him slow before his expression melted into absolute bliss, head tipping back as he rolled his hips back, taking him in once again.

Cas watched, pleasure coursing through him while Dean concentrated on the feeling of it all, eyes closed as he began to rock steadily, settling into a grinding rhythm that searched for more. He found it after a moment, a shift of his weight, and suddenly his fingertips were pressing into Castiel’s skin hard enough to bruise, a guttural sound coming from Dean’s chest. His hips sped, lifting and lowering so that the slap of skin against skin harmonized with their labored breathing and heady moans.

Cas gathered Dean’s dick in his hand, feeling its weight before squeezing, reveling in the feeling of hot suede skin over rigid steel. Dean’s moans heightened to sharp whines, bouncing harder against Castiel’s lap. Castiel watched his face with laser focus, seeing how the swipe of his thumb against the head made all the muscles in Dean’s abs tense, and his ass clench down on him hard.

“Cas…” Dean gulped, wetting dry lips, his tone breathless and absolutely wrecked. “Cas… fuck you’re gonna make me come.”

Castiel suddenly wanted Nothing more, feeling his shoulders lift as his wings stretched, the lights blinking on and off as he tightened his grip, jerking harder while his other hand guided Dean’s hips to move faster. Dean’s fingers were curling into claws, the bite of his nails leaving half-moons in Cas’ skin, his belly tightening and releasing as the wave built higher. Castiel’s hand left Dean’s hip, fingers reaching, and when they grazed the stubble of Dean’s jaw, green eyes met blue, and suddenly Castiel’s pleasure was right there at the surface, ready to explode.

Dean came with a wail that lit Castiel’s orgasm on fire, his hips canting up to chase the clench of Dean’s ass as he came, thick and hot over Castiel’s hand. Castiel’s head dug back into the pillow, a deep moan rumbling from his chest as the bedside lamps blew, shattered glass echoed by the burst of the bulbs in the hall outside the room, one after the other.

Dean was still keening high in his throat, hands pawing weakly at Castiel’s chest, and Cas could feel Dean’s thighs trembling under his own weight. Castiel reached up again, fingers brushing a cheek, and Dean turned his head into the touch, lips brushing Castiel’s palm before it fell to land on Dean’s bicep.

A melodic yell shattered the fantasy into pieces, Castiel blinking hard and finding he had one hand still gripped around the Djinn Queen’s elbow as she held his. His other hand was gripped around Dean’s elbow and Dean’s around his. The Djinn Queen’s other arm held Dean as she held Castiel.

Why didn’t you say that you belonged to another?

The Djinn Queen’s voice rippled through Castiel’s consciousness, and he blinked up at her, instinctively curling away, but there was no malice in her words or her face, just a sad curiosity.

I don’t, my queen. Dean is… Castiel looked over at Dean, who was looking right back, face pale and eyes wide. Technically, we share a profound bond.”

Dean’s thoughts broke in. Technically nothin’ he saved me. In Hell, he found me and brought me home. A whisper of I need him and he’s mine chanted as an undercurrent, muffled but earnest as if trying to break the surface.

Castiel’s jaw clenched as his chest swelled, and he knew that if he’d had any grace left in his body, his wings would have flared with pride.

I release you from your contract.

Dean and Castiel collapsed into each other when the Djinn Queen released them both, heads knocking together hard. Dean cursed as Castiel winced, peering up at the queen. Surely it wasn’t that simple. Her lips tipped up, the golden tattoos on her face shimmering with her amusement.

I am not one to tamper with a soul bond.

“A what now?” Dean squinted, rubbing at his head as Castiel’s brow creased in confusion.

When I touched you both, your deepest desire was the same. Your dreamscape merged and… Castiel wasn’t sure if Djinns could blush, but the queen very much looked like she wanted to. …I’ve never seen two souls connect so seamlessly..

“I don’t have a soul.” Castiel’s head tipped to the side, eyes squinting.

“Lady, that was private,” Dean ground out through gritted teeth, and Castiel looked over to find his face tomato red, hand trembling where it held on to Cas’ elbow.

Of course. The queen inclined her head and returned her gaze to Castiel again. Your grace, then.” Her dark eyes narrowed, peering into his eyes. “Though, technically, there isn’t much left.

“Again with the ‘technically,’” Dean snorted under his breath and Castiel gave him a sharp look while the Queen frowned and ultimately decided to move on without comment.

I only ask that you allow myself and my people to leave here unscathed, and should I call upon you again in the future, you’ll lend me aid.

Castiel glanced at Dean, who gazed back, eyes tight with his mouth turned down. Dean didn’t like deals. Castiel pressed his lips together and turned his gaze back to the queen.

I find your terms agreeable.

Dead grumbled under his breath but Castiel gave his elbow a squeeze and he silenced. The queen smiled softly, and Castiel found himself smiling back. She really was very lovely. You’re free to go. She nodded her head towards the entrance, and Castiel watched as the crowd parted, leaving the way to the mouth of the cave clear.

Dean and Castiel leaned against each other to get to their feet, each giving a respectful nod of their head to the Djinn Queen before turning to step down from the dais on wobbly legs. Sam stood off to the side, looking awkward and a little confused, but one sharp look from Dean had him scurrying over, falling into step behind them as they walked slowly towards freedom, the eyes of the other Djinn weighing heavy on them until they stepped into the twilight chill.

The sun was nearly gone, and Castiel shivered hard, feet sinking into white sand. Sam shucked out of his flannel and draped it around Cas’ shoulders, the hem hanging just far enough to make him decent. They were silent on the nearly two-mile trek back to the car. Sam falling back behind the other two under the guise of protecting their backs but really more of an effort to give them space. Neither seemed to notice that they were still attached to each other, hands clasped at elbows, wrist to wrist, forearms aligned even as they struggled across the sand.

Dean gave a sharp whistle as they approached the car, and Sam looked up, hand raising on instinct to catch the keys as they sailed over to him. Dean opened the back passenger door, helping Cas into the backseat while Sam grabbed some old army blankets from the trunk. Dean laid the blanket across half the seat and encouraged Cas to move onto it before spreading it across the other half as well. Sam was surprised when Dean crawled in after him.

“Sammy get the door.”

Sam did as he was bid, shaking his head as he rounded the car to climb into the driver’s seat. He made a show of adjusting the mirrors to watch his brother help Cas thread his arms through the flannel around his shoulders before shucking out of his own and draping it across Cas’ chest. Castiel’s head dipped, nose burying in the collar while Dean was distracted by shaking out another blanket, tossing it around him, bundling him up before wrapping a protective arm around his shoulder.

“You warm enough?” Dean’s low murmur was more vibration than sound, and Castiel nodded though his teeth still chattered. Dean pulled him closer, tucking his head against his neck and Castiel’s eyes closed, muscles unfurling for the first time in what felt like weeks as he slumped into the warmth of Dean’s body.

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel’s nose brushed Dean’s pulse point.

Dean adjusted his neck so that his chin rested atop Castiel’s head as he let his body slide sideways to wedge himself in the corner where the seatback met the door, knees spreading wide. In one sinuous motion, Dean guided Cas to turn, shifting his body across his lap so that his hips rested between Dean’s thighs and he was able to curl completely into Dean’s chest, Dean’s arms circling him completely in a bearhug bundle that made Sam feel like he was intruding on something intimate. He cleared his throat as he fired up the engine.

They were quiet as the Impala trundled through the sand, Dean’s jaw resting against Cas’ temple, eyes staring unseeing out the window at the sand that almost looked like it was glowing in the moonlight. Castiel, relaxed but awake, focused on the kick drum of Dean’s heartbeat and the novelty of being held.

They were halfway to Carlsbad when Dean finally spoke. “Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“What… what was the ritual again? The…” Dean gestured, and Sam tucked his chin down, eyes returning to the road.

“Uh, well the consort is cleansed and adorned by the elders…”

Dean looked down, and Cas turned his face up to him, the lights of passing cars making the golden patterns on his face shimmer. Dean’s lips twitched. “Check.”

“Then the queen comes in with her maids and accepts the consort’s offering, which if he’s…er… it’s a species they can feed on, that’s usually the offering.” Sam shifted in his seat.

“And that’s it?” Dean’s eyes were narrowed in the rearview, and Sam pressed his lips together.

“Then the queen enters the consort’s dreamscape to assess his deepest desire and if she’s satisfied with what she finds, she allows him to enter hers and when they resurface they’re married.”

Sam winced, feeling his shoulders bunch up, chancing a look in the rearview again and found Cas’ face contorted in puzzlement and Dean’s brows drawn down, lips puckered in thought. Cas’ head lifted, gazing up at Dean.

“Dean…”

“Yeah.” Dean’s tone was an agreement, not a question. Sam’s eyes narrowed.

“I think-“

“Technically speaking, I think you’re right.”

Castiel tucked his head back under Dean’s chin. “Do you want-”

“Yeah. Hey Sam?”

Sam’s voice was cautious. “Yes?”

“Hang a left at Albuquerque will you?”

Sam’s head whipped to look over his shoulder. “Wha- Why?”

Dean sighed, and a smile tugged at Castiel’s lips as he burrowed deeper into Dean’s chest. “Because if I’m technically already married I might as well hit up the Little White Chapel and make it legal. Vegas is, what? 12 hours from here?”

Sam glanced at them in the rearview grinning. “Technically? About 12 and a half”

Dean flipped him off before he settled further back into the seat, tucking his nose into Castiel’s hair, and both allowed themselves to fall asleep to the sound of tires on the highway and the steady beat of their hearts.

#suptober20 #suptober #destiel #deancas #fanfic: supernatural #writing by me

2 notes · View notes