and take their snark and toss it back

Kallura- Dragon Wings

A big happy birthday to @thekallurashipper​ who wished today to be a Kallura positivity day.  So, here’s a fanfic for you!  Hope you have a great day!

Title: Dragon Wings

Rating: G

Series: Voltron Legendary Defender

Characters/Shipping: Allura/Keith, Lotor

Summary: When Princess Allura is kidnapped and it placed in the care of a half dragon boy, she finds help in the less unlikely place.

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We Could Run Away (Josh Dun)

Word count: 1376

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Cursing, anger

Hah, I kinda like this a lot. It ends a little loosely though because that was the only way it flowed.

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Prince Yuuri can’t see anything without his glasses. It normally isn’t an issue, but when Yuuri goes to the royal ball without them he can’t see the man who captures his attention that night and can only remember him by his voice. Determined to find the ‘mystery man’, Yuuri goes through the entire town in hopes of finding the one who won his affections. But what happens when said mystery man turns out to be a beautiful guy named Victor, and why is he acting like they met before last night?

(A Cinderella AU)

Written for Day 7 of the Yuri on Ice Week 2017 challenge and inspired by this post on Tumblr.

[AO3 link]

Prince Yuuri’s eyesight has always been, for lack of a better word, shit.

Really, without his glasses everything turns into a blur of colors and lines, even if said object is right in front of him. He went approximately five years of his life not being able to see anything concrete until his tutor caught on and slapped a pair of thick, wire rimmed atrocities on his face, and only then did he see things clearly for the first time in his life.

It’s normally a non issue. He goes about his day as normal, the only indication that the glasses are even there coming from him pushing the bridge up every so often. It’s almost as if he can forget that he needs help to see. The frames are big enough that he can almost get by without noticing the thin border around everything he views, and even though they are probably the thickest glasses a twenty-four year old has ever worn, nobody dares taunt the crowned prince.

So Yuuri’s sight may be the like a blind bat’s, but at least it’s never caused him any problems.

At least, that used to be true. But after the ball last night, after him, his bad eyesight is the reason he’s screwed beyond belief.

“Are you really going to go looking for your mystery man?” Mari complains, breaking him out of his reverie.

Yuuri shakes his head back and forth while he laces up his shoes then turns a glare on his sister. “Of course I am.”

“And how are you going to find him, huh?” she challenges. “What are you going off of? A blob of grey hair and a Russian accent? News flash, Yuuri, there’s a lot of guys who fit that description.”

He finishes making work of his boots and gets up from the couch he’s perched on. Mari’s leaning against his doorframe, hip cocked out to one side while she balances an unlit cigarette between her teeth. If he was in a better mood he’d chastise her smoking, but her lack of support isn’t exactly rubbing him the right way.

“You don’t need to come if you’re going to complain the entire time,” he snarks back. Yuuri grabs his best coat from the closet and puts it on without preamble. “I can take Yuko instead.”

Mari takes the cigarette out of her mouth and glances at it once before tossing it in the nearest trash can. “No, I’ll come with you. But tell me one thing. Why this guy? Why go through all this effort over someone who’s face you didn’t even see right?”

Yuuri quiets and grabs the lapels of his jacket. It’s a valid question. By all intents and purposes, he’s being ridiculous. He danced with what felt like hundreds of people at the ball last night, blur after blur passing him by due to him not wanting to wear his cumbersome glasses to such a high profile event. He could barely even see a general outline of the men and women he waltzed with, only remembering certain colors or conversations.

But there was one who stood out beyond the rest. A man whose face Yuuri couldn’t see, but whose voice was like a melody, soft and accented and warm. He approached Yuuri after getting paired up with the Duke of Switzerland, a promiscuous man named Christophe known for his inappropriate and lewd behavior at balls. He was whispering in Yuuri’s ear about his latest sexual conquest when he came forward, asking to could butt in and have one dance with the crowned prince.

Christophe graciously handed Yuuri over with a bid farewell, pleasantries falling off both their lips before Yuuri turned back towards the new suitor in front of him. He couldn’t see anything really, just the sharpness of the man’s cheekbones and a hazy halo of platinum hair that could pass for silver. But his eyes. Oh, his eyes were clear as day, bright baby blues bursting through the blurriness.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your meeting with Duke Christophe,” the man murmured in a low voice.

Yuuri remembered smiling back as the man’s hands landed on his shoulders, a soft violin wailing in the background as they began to fall into a familiar waltz.

“Don’t be. We were just finishing up,” he responded back, ever the diplomat at these events. “May I ask for your name?”

The man laughed a little and leaned in close, minty breath brushing against Yuuri’s lips. “If it’s okay with you, Yuuri, I’d like to keep my name a secret. I’m a man of mystery, you see, and I’m returning to St. Petersburg in the morning. We only have tonight, so let’s enjoy it while it lasts, hm?”

He’ll never forget the man calling him Yuuri. Not ‘Your Highness’ or ‘Prince Yuuri,’ but just Yuuri, as if they were old friends reconnecting after years apart. It made his cheek blush red as they fell into easy sways across the dance floor, murmuring in one another’s ear until they were both breaking out in fits of laughter over something the other person said. One dance turned into two, then two into three. Hands gripped tighter as they both realized the night would be over soon and they’d part ways, never to see the other again. Conversations became deeper, frivolous talk about their mutual love of dogs fading into discussions of fears for the future. Yuuri admitted he was worried about taking the throne one day, if he’d be a good king, while the man implied he was scared of never finding his lost love, if he was forever destined to ache with lovesickness.

They danced, talked, touched for the whole night, until the castle clocks chimed at midnight and the man broke away from Yuuri’s grasp.

“Wait!” Yuuri cried out, fingers catching on the man’s shirt sleeve.

The man turned back and through the blurriness, Yuuri made out a tiny smile.

“Goodbye, my prince,” he whispered, then leaned in without another word and left the faintest of kisses on Yuuri’s mouth before escaping through a door and out of sight.

“Yuuri? Yuuri!”

He practically jumps out of his skin at Mari’s insistent knocking against his arm.

“What?” he snaps back.

She sighs. “You never answered my question, dummy. What is it about this guy?”

Yuuri just pulls the lapels of his jacket closer around his body and sighs. “I can’t explain it. I was up all night thinking about him, Mari. I…I can’t get him out of my head and I just need to do this. You understand, right?”

Mari appraises him for a few seconds then sighs in return. “Y’know, this all could’ve been avoided if you just listened to me and wore your glasses, but yeah, I understand. Let’s go find your boyfriend.”

He glares at her back as she walks out of the room but doesn’t comment, instead focusing on the one though that goes through his mind like a mantra as they prepare for a long journey ahead.

I’ll find him if it’s the last thing I do.

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fanfic by @execution-empress
fanart by @hozumi13

They’re only a few blocks away when it starts to rain. At the first drop they run; dog at his side, cat carrier at hers. Though try as they might, there’s no escaping the rain. They’re soaked (all except Liho) by the time they reach the apartment. The two master assassins thought they could relax, but Lucky proves them wrong by shaking himself. Though the two shield themselves, all it does is make them wetter.

“At least someone’s dry,” Clint says with a hint of a chuckle. Natasha grunts as she sets the cat case down and opens it.

“He’s not dry,” she replies. “He’s still wet and we’re gonna dry him off. “Get your hair dryer while I get changed.”

“What? Why?” Even as he protests, Clint does as she asks and heads for the bathroom closet.

“I’m not having this place smell like wet dog. It’s bad enough that it smells like wet Clint.” Natasha is sure that he’s rolling his eyes, which he is, just as Clint is sure she’s smirking and proud of herself, which she is. She goes into the bedroom, changes into a pair of yellow shorts with a matching top, then comes back out towards Lucky. Along the way, Clint hands her the hair dryer and a towel. Liho watches on top of his cat carrier, knowing he’s in for a show. All the while, Lucky doesn’t suspect a thing.

Rather, he thinks Natasha wants to hug and play with him. The fluffy, golden dog runs to her, jumping up on his hind legs to plant kiss after kiss to her cheek.

“Hey! Wait!” she cries out, though there’s a small chuckle and a frustrated groan in her tone. She kneels down so Lucky is back on all fours and quickly plugs the hair dryer into the nearest socket. “C’mon, boy, just stay still. It’ll be over soon.”

And of course, the dog does everything but that.

He rolls on the floor and on the towel. He tackles her just to lick her cheeks again. He bites at the air from the hair dryer and shakes any and all excess water. Finally, he flops down on his side, onto the towel, just to relax and catch his breath.

And of course, the dog is completely dry.

Sitting back up with a sigh, Natasha wipes the sweat from her brow. At least Lucky was dry and wouldn’t smell, but her shirt was wet again. Before she could even think of what to do next, a certain voice helps her out.

“Tasha, take off your shirt and lift up your arms.” While anyone else would have been met with sarcasm and snark, this voice is different. She complies as she takes off her shirt, tossing it to the side, and lifts her arms above her head. Something soft and warm slides down over her arms and her body. Glancing down, Natasha notices an all too familiar bullseye and her lips curl in an all too familiar smirk.

“Your shirt?” she asks, leaning back against him. Clint kisses her shoulder as an arm wraps around her. While she was drying off Lucky, he was getting changed and made them coffee. The coffee cups sit by the window with their small stream of steam, just as he sits behind her to kiss and nuzzle the crook of her neck.

“Mmhmm. As thanks,” he replies. Natasha rolls her eyes and the two chuckle.

“That’s my thanks? Your shirt?”

“Yep!” He laughs as there’s a teasing tone to his voice. “Would you rather have something else?”

“Yep.” Turning around, Natasha wraps her arms around his neck. Her lips meet his as they kiss, soft and sweet at first, until passion has them falling back on the floor. And it’s times like this that they’re both thankful for little things like the rain, wet dogs, and one another.

anonymous asked:

I love how you write Bulma as a parent. How about her consoling a wee Trunks after a nightmare? Bonus points if Vegeta features.

It feels like only minutes have passed from the moment her head hits the pillow before something grabs her shoulder and shakes her out of a hard sleep. She startles, muscles seizing in an instant, and she struggles to lift her arm from beneath the blankets to strike out at whoever’s attacking her.

“Mama? Mama, wake up, please.”

Trunks’s tear-stained voice breaks through the haze of sleep and, Inhaling sharply through her nose, Bulma forces herself to wake up all the way. Her eyes ache when they open and it takes longer than it should for them to adjust to the darkness of her room, but she manages to spy the outline of her little boy standing next to her bed. He still hasn’t let go of her shoulder.

“Baby, whassamatter?” It’s barely intelligible through the jaw-cracking yawn that bursts out of her the second she opens her mouth, but Trunks crowds close, smelling of sweat and salt.

“Mama, there’s a monster in my room.”

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The Hard Questions (Chapter 5)

Chapter 4

“EDINBURGH, ARE YOU READYYYYYYYYY!” Liam yelled. The crowd reacted with a roar that made me glad for ear protection I bought at Louis’ insistence.

“Seriously, love.” he’d told me, “I’m surprised I don’t have the same hearing as my gran by now.”

The boys had performed for two days in Glasgow, then we drove to Edinburgh and spent the day there before they performed for two more days. This was their second night. In those four days I had managed to avoid Harry completely, getting one-on-one sessions with each of the boys. When I wasn’t doing that, I was walking Steinem, working out, talking to the crew, or sightseeing. I was a master at avoidance. 

The boys went through their set list, blowing each song out of the water. On their breaks, I conveniently excused myself for various reasons. By the time the concert was over, I was exhausted from lightly jogging to all my various temporary hiding places and craning my neck around corners to see if Harry was around, in addition to my mind racing between questions and mentally yelling at myself for handling the situation like a first grader. I sighed in relief at the prospect of a warm bed and a shower. As the boys started to exit the stage, I made my way toward the back entrance. When I was about ten paces from the door, I felt a gently insistent hand on my upper arm.

“You can’t run from me for eight months, y'know.” a voice rasped behind me. I turned to see a smiling Harry.

“I’m not running from you,” I stammered, “I’m just tired from-”

“Hiding from me all night.”

“No, I-”

“Wanted to wait to get me alone?”

“Okay, you know what? Yeah, I actually need to do an interview session with you. I’ve done the rest of the band.”

“No time like the present.”

Harry was still sweaty from being on stage. His shirt was sticking to his torso, and combined with how low it was buttoned left literally nothing to the imagination. He let go of my arm and we made our way to the alley outside where the buses were waiting. One was the relaxation bus, the other a recording bus since the boys had some material to put on the album. As we reached the two massive vehicles, a deafening shriek rang out from a dozen yards away.


A group of at least thirty girls came barreling toward the band at breakneck speed. We stood frozen, closer to the recording bus than the relaxation one. The driver of the former was jolted awake by all the  screaming.


Without a word, Harry ripped open the door to the bus in front of us, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me inside. Outside, a squadron of crew and bodyguards trying to separate the girls in order to make a path. Once that was done we started driving to the hotel. It was only a few minutes  away, but after an event like that happened, we couldn’t wait to get there.

It was then that I took notice of my surroundings. And how close I was to Harry. Since the bus was full of recording equipment, our only choice was to stand practically cheek to cheek. He was breathing heavily and smelled like a mixture of Tom Ford, sweat and a unique musk. He was shaking.

"I’m sorry that h-happened.” he quaked. I looked into his normally jade eyes, which were now a nervous watery green. Was he  about to cry? I couldn’t tell with how dim the bus was. The point was, he had just undergone a clearly semi-traumatic event that had him shivering, and he was apologizing to me

“It’s not your fault.” I told him. He still was looking away. I gently took hold of his head and made him face me. “Harry,” I said gently, “Look at me. None of this is your fault.”

I felt him breathe out and relax under my touch. The bus goes over a small bump and suddenly our faces are almost touching.  A few seconds feel like they’re expanding into hours as we look at each other. We steadied ourselves and I took a breath in, inhaling his warm spicy musk.

“Is-Is there anything I can do to help? So you feel more at ease?” I whisper. Harry waits a minute before responding 

“You’re gonna think it’s weird.”

“I doubt that.”

“Um, can I hold you?’ He asks. I looked up at him. I wasn’t expecting that. But I had asked him if there was anything I could do. So without replying, I stepped forward and nuzzled into his chest. He only took a second to react, wrapping his arms around me, with one hand pressed to the back of my head.

"How does this help?” I asked softly, my voice slightly muffled.

“Dunno,” he answered. “Just does.” Again, without replying, I let my own arms come up and wrap around his waist. His lower back felt tense and I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d used his seemingly infinite wealth to pay for a good massage lately.

We spent the rest of the ride wrapped around each other, our grips getting gradually tighter as we neared the hotel. When we disconnected as the bus stopped, I felt cold.

“So,” Harry started, “When did you want to sit down and chat?”

It was nearing midnight, and I knew we’d have to get up early. A promise of getting together the next day was ready on my lips when I noticed something hopeful in his eyes. Did he genuinely want to hang out with me? 

“Um, we can’t really do a full session tonight, but you’re welcome to join me in liberating some stuff from my minibar.” I told him. He smiled slightly.

“Sounds great.” he said.

Steinem was nearly beside himself with happiness once we got back to the room. His tail threatened to take a chunk out of the wall, and Harry chuckled as he squatted once more to pet him. “Hey, bud.” he greeted softly.

“So, I’ve got whiskey, vodka, tequila, amaretto, and no, I drank the scotch already.”

“Amaretto, if that’s alright.” I turned to give him a curious look before tossing him the bottle. “What?” he asked, noticing my expression.

“Nothing, just amaretto? Isn’t that kind of girly?”

“I’ve never liked assigning gender roles,” Harry said with faux snark. “Especially when it comes to drinking.”

I giggled and opened my bottle of vodka. Harry was looking at me with some kind of gaze I couldn’t understand. “What?” I asked.

“That’s a nice sound, your giggle,” he told me. “you should do it more.”

“I’ll do it when there’s a reason.”

Harry once again pretended to be offended, clasping his hand over his heart in a show of mock pain, causing me to giggle again. I smiled at him.

“You’re not fair.” I told him. His face took on a curious expression.

“What do you mean?”

“That thing you do where where you make everyone feel at ease, it’s disarming. It’s unfair.” I was toeing the carpet, not wanting to see Harry’s reaction to my comment. I got a quiet response.

“Maybe you don’t have to be armed.”

My head snapped up to meet his sincere stare. “I think I do.” I replied.

“And why’s that?”

“Because when I’m unarmed, I get hurt.” I heard myself say, which shocked me. I’d never said anything like that to anyone. Ever. Harry’s eyes were now alight with concern. He was just opening his mouth to reply when a knock sounded at my door. Harry turned and opened the door to reveal Sam.

“Harry, we need to go over some more of the exit protocols.” he said brusquely. Harry nodded and turned back to me. “We should be checking into our next hotel at dinnertime. Meet me then and we can eat together yeah?”

“Sure.” I agreed. He gave Steinem one last pat and left. All throughout my and as I tossed and turned, I tried to process what had happened. I had never seen Harry that vulnerable, although to be fair, that could’ve been said for me tonight. After more tossing and turning  and much disturbing of Steinem, who snuffled grumpily, I finally  drifted off.

I was being pulled by my hair. Being dragged toward the toilet. My knees were being pressed uncomfortably to the hard tile. My mouth was pried open, and fingers were shoved in. They navigated around until they reached that special spot that made me release everything into the waiting white pristine bowl beneath me. I was shrieking and crying, imploring the hands holding me to just stop and let me go. I got no response. When I stopped vomiting, the hand shoved my head into the lip of the toilet again and again and again, and just when I thought I would mercifully pass out, my eyes opened and I was back in my hotel room. Steinem was anxiously whimpering, and once he saw I was awake, he nuzzled his way into my lap. I was still crying, but I buried my face in his back and kept sobbing, still feeling the pounding in my head. And hearing it? I sat up and after a moment realized that it wasn’t the pounding from my dream, it was someone banging on my door. I wiped my eyes and cheeks messily with the hem of my nightgown before making my way to the door, opening it to see Harry looking wide-eyed and anxious.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “It sounded like you were screaming.”

“Oh, um.” I said, mentally scrambling for an excuse. “I had a dream about um, Steinem being hit by a car.” the explanation sounded shitty, even to my ears, but Harry seemed to accept it. “Well, I’m sure if that happened, it would do more damage to the car than him.” he told me. I grinned through my residual tears, desperate for the spotlight to be anywhere but on me.

“So, what’s with the wake up call?” I asked. Was it just me, or did Harry blush slightly? That had to be me, right?

“Er,” he started. “I just heard that the boys would be on the fun bus with the Xbox and stuff, and so I was wondering if you’d be comfortable pushing our session forward and sharing the relaxation bus with me while we talk.”

“Sure.” I answered without even really thinking. I mean, I didn’t really have to. It only made sense.

“Great.” Harry said, sounding relieved. “So I’ll see you down there then?”

“Sure.” I said again. I was trying to hide my growing excitement of having Harry on a bus all to myself, the thought of which was making me tingly literally everywhere. Harry smiled and nodded and made his way back down the hall to his room. I closed the door to my own and did a little dance as I packed. Once that was done and I was dressed, with Steinem fully leashed up, I grabbed everything and made my way down to the lobby exiting through the back to find the relaxation bus, where Harry was waiting with a cinnamon chai and a selection of pastries. 

“You really are quite the boy scout,” I remarked as I bit into a scone. In front of us, Steinem took a running jump onto the large couch at the back of the bus, making himself at home as Harry and I stowed my suitcase. Once that was done, we joined Steinem on the couch, where I took out my notebook, pen, and recorder. I looked up at Harry, who seemed suddenly ill at ease.

“Something wrong?” I asked. 

“Well, do you really have to use that?” Harry asked, pointing at the recorder. “I don’t really like the way my voice sounds on those things.”

“We don’t have to,” I answered, putting the recorder back in my bag and pushing it aside. “whatever makes you most comfortable.”

“I thought that wasn’t what Smirk was about.”

“I’m sorry, did you want me to get it-”

“No, never mind, just a stupid joke, sorry.” Harry mumbled. I smiled at him and readied my pencil and paper. “Okay,” I started, “Let’s begin with your childhood." 

Over the course of the next few hours, we talked out Harry’s life, which proved to be way more interesting than I thought it would be. His childhood, school days, his X-Factor experience, and the way he lived his life in general opened me up to a side I wish I had examined more thoroughly before making the assumptions I had within the article. When we had talked about everything we could, we had no choice but to discuss what we had been avoiding. There was a beat of silence.

"I suppose you want to know about my relationships now, yeah?” Harry asked.

“Well, that does seem to be the area that garners the most interest,” I said quietly. Harry sighed.

“Well, who was your first girlfriend?” I prodded. Another sigh.

“Her name was Felicity.” he almost whispered. “We were fifteen.”

“How long were you together?”

“Almost a year.”

“Did you love her?”

“I don’t really know what that is yet, but at fifteen, I guess you’ll convince yourself that anything counts as love.”

“How philosophical of you.” I smiled. Harry returned it. I steeled myself for the reply to my next question. “Why did you break up?” Harry’s face fell, and I immediately wanted to smack myself.

“Things just fizzled, I guess. Things were starting to get serious with the X-factor, and she was afraid I’d meet someone else.”

“And did you?”

A small smile flitted across his face, gone in an instant.

“Yeah, I s'pose you could say I did.”

“Caroline Flack, you mean.” If possible, Harry’s face fell even more, and I wanted to hit myself again. “Yeah.” he then looked up, suddenly. “She didn’t prey on me, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said insistently.  "I went after her.“

"And how did that go?”

“Okay. For a while." 

"What happened after a while?”

Harry turned from me to look out the window. Steinem’s therapy dog instincts took over, and he gingerly nudged his way into Harry’s lap, where he was rewarded with some absentminded scratches.

“I went to this party one night, and she was there,” he explained. “It was just after we had started working on Up All Night. I had invited her to go with me myself earlier, and she had said she wasn’t feeling well. So I just went by myself. Then I saw her there and called out to her. And she turned away from all her posh friends and looked at me and she just looked……….so embarrassed. Like I was her kid brother that had tagged along or something and was annoying her.” he paused and sucked in a breath. “All of her friends were smirking at me and I just felt like such an idiot for not seeing it sooner.”

“Seeing what sooner?” I was afraid of the answer. Harry kept looking out the window and petting Steinem.

“She was ashamed of me.” he finally answered. “When we were alone she was so caring and great, but in public it was like……it was like I wasn’t there. Like she didn’t want me there. ”

I was glad for Harry looking out the window so he wouldn’t see me wince. I couldn’t imagine what that had felt like. To be so young and have the world on your shoulders after coming out of such a scary competitive environment, becoming a sensation overnight and having all that attention on you, only to find that the one person you thought you could trust and be yourself around was actually ashamed of you. It made me grow cold despite the pleasantly regulated temperature of the bus.

Without thinking I stuck my hand out and grabbed Harry’s who looked over at me in surprise. “I’m really sorry that happened to you.” I said sincerely. Harry blinked down at my hand before I felt his grip tighten around it.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that before.” he admitted softly. I squeezed his hand, and without a second thought, leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. Our eyes lock as I drew back.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, “You just looked so sad and I-”

“Don’t apologize.” Harry interrupted. “It felt good.”

Before I could say anything else, the bus came to a stop, and we both glanced out the window to notice that several hours had in fact gone by and we were now at our next hotel. Steinem stood up unsteadily and barked with excitement at the thought of a walk and food. Reluctantly, Harry and I separated and disembarked, each with large suitcases, and made our way toward the hotel, my giant hound padding beside us happily.

“That was nice, I enjoyed that.” Harry said once we were in the elevator.

“What, me interrogating you?” I asked with a slight laugh. 

“It didn’t feel like one.” Harry replied.

“That’s how good I am.”

Harry laughed as the elevators opened and we were on the hotel floor designated for the band. “Was there anything else you wanted to know?” Harry asked as we made it to his room and he unlocked his door. We both fell into the room, breathing from hauling around our luggage.

“A couple things, yeah.” I mumbled.

“We could have dinner later, if you want.” I resisted the urge to gasp instead pretended to readjust my sandal.

“Um, that’d be great.” I murmured, trying to conceal my excitement. A day with him on the bus and dinner? I failed to see how this could get much better. 

“What time should I stop by your room?”

“In like an hour? This guy needs a walk.” I said, gesturing to Steinem, whose tail went into overdrive again. 

“Okay.” Harry agreed. I smiled and once more turned and hauled my suitcase and dog out of the room, buzzing. Once I got to mine, I did another happy dance similar to that morning’s and grabbed my phone and some headphones. Steinem and I walked the grounds and listened to music, my mind only half there. Harry had looked so despondent on the bus today. So lonely and isolated.

Then it hit me, so hard I almost had to grab the ostentatious fountain I had been walking near for support. It was a realization I had been looking for that finally answered the question my article had asked. Why did Harry hang out with so many glamazons? It wasn’t because he was shallow or selfish or misogynistic or any of the other tripe I had suggested.

It was because he was lonely. 

Harry Styles,the kindhearted, witty, philanthropist rockstar, with many stories to tell and experiences to share, was lonely.

He didn’t have the privilege of simply being able to walk into a book club or yoga class and make new friends without having to wonder if they liked him for him. He was a figurehead, an exhibit of fame and fortune for people to gawk at and take pictures of. And within that flashbulb-filled lifestyle, true friends were few and far between, and the people that were most readily available to hang out with? Beautiful people with plenty of experience in front of camera and posing already. Models

I was suddenly breathing hard and my head was pounding. I wanted to sprint back up to Harry’s room, hug him and shout to him that he wasn’t alone. I turned back toward the hotel and started lightly jog.

Harry thought about Elodie as he checked his email and looked for something to wear to dinner. He thought about her eyes as she absorbed the stories he had told her of his life and experiences, and even though she thought he hadn’t seen it, her wince when he told her about Caroline. Mostly he remembered the light but honest touch of her hand when she grabbed his.

Then, completely unbidden, the memory of their hips together at the club came into his mind and he started to harden.

“Gonna need to get lotion at this rate,” he grumbled to himself as he made his way toward the bathroom.

I finally made it back to our floor and deposited Steinem in my room, who was content to watch Animal Planet over a travel bowl of kibble. For some fortunate reason, I had left Harry’s door unlocked when I had left. I slipped in silently and closed the door behind me, expecting to see Harry on the bed or the balcony. Instead he just wasn’t there. Just as I started to make my way to the door, I heard it.

A moan. A sexy, deep, desperate-for-release moan. I felt myself grow wet, feeling like I was once again on some sensual autopilot as i made my way toward the bathroom door, which I was right outside of when I heard my name.

“Fuck, Elodie!” Harry’s raspy voice echoed out of the bathroom. And before I knew what I was doing, I had pushed the bathroom door open and was standing in front of one of the sexiest sights I had ever beheld. Harry, his gorgeous body completely naked, eyes closed with his hand around his beautiful cock. This was real. Not my fingers or a shower nozzle aiding my imagination. Thank God I had worn another loose maxi dress today. Without underwear.  I stepped out of it and firmly grasped Harry’s dick in my own had, trying not to moan myself at how perfect it felt.

Harry’s eyes shot open.

“Elodie!” he nearly shouted out of surprise. I grabbed his other hand and placed it on my wetness, being rewarded with another surprised moan. 
“This is real, Harry,” I whispered in his ear. “This is the effect we have on each other." 

Another moan.

"I think we should do something about it , don’t you?” I whispered. Harry’s lips were on mine in a kiss that was anything but tidy. I suddenly felt myself being picked up, and steps being taken while we continued to feed off each other’s lust via our mouths via our mouths and tongues. I felt my back hit the bed, pinned beneath Harry, whose mouth went to my neck, biting and sucking as his fingers worked my clit with a stream of perfect circles and figure eights, just like I had fantasized in L.A.

That seemed like years ago. 

I felt very close to coming from Harry’s fingers when I felt his other hand try and find my bra clasp. As a reflex, grabbed his wrist and rolled him over so I was on top, pinning his hands above him.

“Condoms?” I asked. Harry inclined his head toward his wallet on the bedside table. I held his trapped hands with one hand and and retrieved the condom from his wallet with the other, rolling it on to him with a flourish. 

“Ready?” I asked breathlessly as I positioned myself above him.

“Since the day I met you.”  He replied equally out of breath. With that, I sunk down on him, both of us keening at the feeling. I released Harry’s hands and put my own on his chest to steady myself as I started to thrust downward, nearly screaming with pleasure when I felt him thrust upward in response. The feeling of him filling me was everything I’d been hoping for, and I could tell he felt the same. We moved together, the only sounds in the room being our skin moving together and our moans and praises of each other as we rocked in and out. Harry’s hands started to move toward my breasts, and I grabbed them and put them on my hips. He started to open his mouth, most likely to ask me what was wrong when let out a gasp.

“God, Elodie, I’m gonna-”

“Yeah, me too” I moaned, feeling the long-awaited pleasurable burn of my approaching orgasm. Harry sat up with our faces centimeters apart and began forcibly moving me up and down with his hips. He at last sighed in my ear with pleasure as he twitched inside me, his forehead falling into mine gently. His hands continued to grip my hips, as he had seen that I had yet to come.

“C'mon, Elodie.” he whispered into my neck. “I know you can, you’ve been so good to me, you look so fucking gorgeous right now.” I had never heard this sort of praise during sex before, and with a yell, I came almost violently onto Harry. His fingers stroked me through my release, making me nearly mewl into his ear with the earth-shattering pleasure I was feeling. When I felt myself return, I opened my eyes to see Harry staring intently at me. I rolled gently off of him and onto the bed. Harry discarded the condom and crawled under the covers as I sat uncertainly beside him.

“D'you want to leave?” he asked quietly.


“Get under the covers with me then?”

I obliged and soon we were lying on our sides facing each other beneath the hotel’s sumptuous sheets.

“How long have you wanted to do that?” I asked him. He smiled sheepishly.

“Honestly? Since the day of the press conference.” he chuckled. I smiled in response.

“Me too.”

“Can I ask you somethin’? Well, a couple things.”

“Sure, what?”

“Why did you come back to my room?’

I took a breath before answering, hoping I wouldn’t sound as creepy as I did in my head.

"To tell you weren’t alone.” I said softly. Harry looked back at me unblinking.

“What do you mean?”

“Well you just seemed so sad on the bus, and I wanted to come back and try to tell you how much I’ve changed my mind about you in the past few days, and that you have a lot of people who love and treasure you.”

He still stared at me, and I could feel myself start to blush.

“I know that sounds creepy, but-” I started to say, but was interrupted by Harry’s lips. He pressed his to mine sweetly, subtly nibbling at my lip before pulling away.

“Thank you.” he told me sincerely. We both smiled at each other, and I felt his hand on my hip, pulling me close to him.

“I needed to hear that,” he told me.

“What was your other question?” I asked him.

“Why wouldn’t you let me touch your chest?”

I felt myself stiffen, and so did he.

“Elodie?” he asked worriedly.

“That’s a long and painful story Harry.” I told him. “And as much as I like you, I don’t think we’re there yet.”

He nodded in understanding, gingerly setting his chin  on my head while I cuddled into his chest. I had never felt this kind of affection before post-sex, and even though Harry and I were barely friends, it felt extremely right. 

“Stay with me for a while?” he asked.

“Well, you did promise me dinner.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I s'pose I did.”

“I’m a bit tired though. Would it offend you terribly if I napped for a while?”

“Nope. In fact, I think I’ll join you.”

Within Harry’s gentle yet strong arms, I felt myself drift off, refusing to let my now-screaming logical side worry me as I listened to Harry’s contented breathing.

Phew! That was a load off! Hope you like this chapter, dearies! I know it took a while. Between midterms and seeing Fifty Shades of Grey this weekend, I’ve been a tad busy ;)

Hope you enjoyed, and remember to give me feedback!

I'll make him an offer he can't refuse [50's Mobster AU]

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“Fine, but you still owe me for the night” She hissed at the drunken man sitting on the couch. His legs apart, and his suit disheveled. What kind of man orders a woman, and refuses her last minute as some sort of game. “The boss has a business to run, he doesn’t play fucking games." 

"You’re not getting paid, You’ve barely touched me" 

Pepper whirled around pulling the gun she spotted on him as she walked in and aimed it at him. "Then I’ll just take it” She snarked, “Hope you dont mind” She purred at the man. Who had turned paper white and froze like a deer in the road. Keeping the gun pointed at him, she took the bundle of cash from his pocket, brushing the muzzle across the man’s lips, remembering the taste of cigar and booze and he jolted slightly. Pulling the gun back, she kept her eyes on his as she pulled away, tossing him a dollar bill. “A tip from me.” She purred before stuffing the gun into her waistband and headed for the door, swiping a bit of his jewelry too. 

Starks women came at a hefty price. And they never left without it.