#and look. i don’t care if my pyjamas are short on me. i’ve made peace with that fact but it’s fine because i will be in bed and no one will

[wizkiddx]

work with me

this is for @worldoftom 'lolbrosgetsicktoo' challenge event thing - go check it out bcos lots of much better writers have got involved too✨! I'm v new to these things but I tried :) the prompt was: 'would you quit whining and just get in the bath' . (also look at me acc posting sort of regularly, who'd of thought?!?!)

warnings: sickness / fever (more dramatic than it needs to be) / LOTS of medical inaccuracies

summary: when tom doesn't take advice and ends up very ill, very far from home, there's one person whose stuck dealing with it

“Please Tom… I need you to work with me!”

It wasn’t his fault he was being a complete nightmare, though your patience was wearing off somewhat.

For context, you were in Morocco, where he had been filming part of his next film, which only made trying to take care of him that bit harder.

Everyone got ill sometimes. It wasn’t his fault.

That was the mantra ringing through your head, even if you had a more challenging time believing it. Tom wasn’t stupid, as much as he liked to joke about it. HOWEVER, what he was less good at was heeding warnings. He was a white boy in Morrocco; the health and safety briefing had literally been aimed at him. Had he taken the advice not to eat any dodgy looking meats at the market?

Of course not; that’d be boring.

Everyone else was fine. You’d all sampled Morroccos culture without giving yourselves the worst case of food poisoning you’d ever witnessed. But not Tom - possibly one of the only ‘indispensable’ people on the set. If you, or one of the minor characters, or even the director, had got ill - the show could continue.

When you’d been rudely awoken by your phone going off, you’d known instantly. It was as if you’d told him not to take a bite out of the weird burger once you were away from the eager view of the street vendor. Sure enough, with bleary eyes, you hissed at the brightness of the phone screen before seeing ‘Tom H’ on the screen.

“Y/n?” His voice was croaky, but just from the single call of your name, it was clear he was feeling sorry for himself.

“Are you okay? It’s late T.”

“Um I… can you come over? You…you might need the key I’m - um- in the bathroom.”

As his stylist, it technically wasn’t part of your job description to also be mother when he was sick, but (unfortunately for you) after the 3 years working side by side with him - you were also friends.

Which you were almost regretting by the second time rinsing the toilet bowl clean after he’d evacuated what seemed to be the majority of his vital organs into it. Honestly, it was impressive how he managed to keep going.

That had been at around 4 in the morning- the doctor had been called at 8, coinciding beautifully with his 5th toilet extravaganza. Once the doctor had confirmed your original, if completely unqualified, diagnosis of food poisoning - you hadn’t been able to bite your tongue. Perhaps an ‘i told you so’ might’ve slipped past your lips, but Tom was a bit too out of it to argue back.

You’d been given firm advice from the doctor - he said little sips of water, rest and control his temperature. It all had seen pretty simple - though the action? Not so much.

It wasn’t his fault, yet Tom was not super compliant. You and Harry had both been taking turns in practically forcing him to take sips of water, having to turn off ‘modern family’ till he did. The blackmail had put you both in his bad book.

Honestly, thank the lord Harry was here too. You’d woken him up at seven, begging for help and since then, you’d tagged teamed. While one was looking after Tom, the other was phoning the director, the doctor, and the crew to inform them of the current situation.

Again, of all people. Why’d it have to be Tom?

Mainly because you knew how mortifying he found this. He didn’t like people fussing over him, never had. He liked to work hard, liked to make people happy - definitely didn’t like to feel a burden. Perhaps what made him feel ten times worse was that he knew he was inconveniencing the whole production team massively.

And yes, as you’d unhelpfully reminded him, it was ‘his fault’.

The lavish hotel room, big bathroom and pretty efficient AC still didn’t manage to mask the pungent in-the-back-of-your-throat smell from the bathroom. At the doctor’s advice, who had been a little concerned at Toms fever, Harry had cranked the AC on high. It had forced you to steal one of Tom’s big hoodies and a pair of joggers- you hadn’t left his room since he first called you, still wearing your tiny pyjama shorts and an old tee.

“Please turn the air con off.” His little voice whined from where he was lying, huddled up under the covers. Perched on the other side of the double bed, but over the covers with your laptop on his lap, you could actually feel him shivering with the chills. It felt like you were torturing the poor boy.

“T you know I can’t. It’ll make your fever worse.” The way he looked up at you, like a little Labrador that you were refusing to pet, actually pained your heart.

Okay, so yes it was his fault, but you weren’t mad, you just felt so awful for him.

“Please I’ll- I’ll pay you more.” His voice was hoarse; though he denied a sore throat, it sounded like the constant sickness was burning his windpipe.

“Tommm” you pouted, sticking your bottom lip out “I don’t want your money, want you to get better.”

Apparently giving up, brown eyes shot you the filthiest look in disappointment, rolling to face away from you. You thought he was giving you the silent treatment in a huff, but instead, he was praying on the weaker one.

“Harry, I’ll buy you that set of golf clubs-“

“NO!” You had to interrupt before Harry would say yes - because from the way his younger brother shot up from the arm chair, he was about to. Scowling eyes slowly focused back on you in annoyance, making you huff - shutting the laptop and kneeling on the bed to face him. After pressing the back of your palm to his forehead, which was scorching hot, you sighed. “I know you feel shitty and I’m so so sorry but I’m trying to make you better. So shut up, drink this and go to sleep!”

Like a child scorned, you received another death glare however, then he complied, taking a sip of the water you offered before lying back - huddling even tighter.

And it had been relatively peaceful for a few hours; Tom seemed to be getting some sleep - even if he was tossing and turning. Eventually, a prescription that the doctor had requested worked its way through the system, Harry getting a text to say he could go pick it up. The nearest pharmacy was probably a 30 minute drive from the hotel, so he left as soon as.

This left you alone with Tom, where the situation only descended into more chaos.

Almost as soon as Harry had left, Tom had stirred with a grunt. All it took was one look at his face for you to know. Both of you leapt up and flew into the toilet, Tom once again getting very familiar with the Moroccan toilet bowl.

This time though, when he had leant backwards, he’d sort of lost control and flopped most the way - you catching him before he could hit his head on the tiled floor.

“Woah, easy there!” It wasn’t like he’d passed out, but the look in his eye as he slumped into your lap… he wasn’t all there either. “Hey Tom… you with me? Tom?”

Lazily he blinked up at you, not really replying except for groans of half-formed words.

Deciding this had all got a bit direr, you almost sprinted back into the room, grabbing your phone and returning. He was still on the floor, his thumb and first finger pressing into each eye - groaning again.

“Hey Tom? I’m gonna call the doctor you need anything?” He whined in response, stopping only when you stroked his sweaty hair back, most of your attention on dialling the correct number.

The solution he’d given wasn’t pretty: Tom’s fever was too high hence why he was all woozy and groany. Until the doctor could get over with the stronger medications, you needed to lower his temperature in other ways or take him to hospital. He’d absolutely hate hospital, but the other choice? Boy, was he not going to like it either.

Ignoring Tom’s croaked question of what you were doing, you busied yourself switching on the bath taps. You let the water run until it was the right (very mild) temperate, then turned back to Tom, who’d managed to work himself up to sit against the sink unit.

“The doctor says you need it.” His brain was foggy, his mind was slow but your tone told him enough to know something was wrong with the bath. “Just take your clothes off and then I’ll help you-“

“Absolutely fucking not.” Good. He was still with it enough to argue.

“I am just as uncomfortable as you are Tom, but we both know you can’t stand up without fainting, so you are going to need my help.”

“Y/n!”

“Keep your boxers on and it’s just like a fitting! I’ve seen you have those before!”

It was clear as day just how emasculated he felt, especially because he knew you were right. Sitting up at this current moment was a push; there was no way he was getting in the bath without some help. Defeatedly he nodded, but gave you a piercing look to turn around before he started wiggling himself out of the flannel pyjama trousers and light cotton t-shirt. Most confusingly, he still felt freezing cold, yet he had long since learned not to argue with you - especially when your justification came from the advice of a doctor.

Your cue to turn around came in the form of an extra angry-sounding grunt- the look you got when you did wasn’t much better either. It was a weird contrast, though, having someone who physically appeared so indestructible (a superhero for crying out loud); to have been absolutely beaten to a pulp by a few mouth fulls of weird meat. You had seen his bare torso before, although it still wasn’t something easy to get used to - making you clench your teeth together just slightly. A very welcome view.

Perhaps you looked just a little too long at the man who was technically your boss, hunched angrily on the floor in nothing but his calvins - another grunt shaking you out of it. By now, the bath was almost full and you hurried to shut off the water, feeling your cheeks heat up as you cursed silently to yourself.

“Okay come on, gimme your arm.” Begrudgingly Tom followed your request, slinging his arm heavily over your shoulder as you crouched beside him. As strong as he looked, you knew right now he felt powerlessly weak - all that muscle was just going to be almost dead weight.

Now it was your turn to grunt and groan as you pulled Tom up to stand, him focusing on blinking away the headrush he got.

“Come on T work with me here.” Getting him to the side of the bath wasn’t too difficult, the issue came when he stepped with one foot into the bath and yelped, instantly withdrawing as if it was a literal ice bath.

The sudden movement had you both losing balance, ending with Tom sitting on the edge of the bath and you leaning over him, in between his legs, and slapping your hand on the wall opposite purely so you both didn’t end up in the bath.

“Tom!”

“It’s like ice water!”

“Its lukewarm like the doctor said!”

“It is not its from the fucking arctic!”

“Oh for god sake!” Exasperated, you paced up and down the bathroom shaking your head at his ridiculousness. This was ALL. HIS. FAULT.

You came back to him with an ultimatum.

“It’s this or the doctor said I had to drag your ass to hospital.”

“Nooooooo.” The 25 year old seemed to convert into a whiny three year old again.

“Those are the two options. So will you PLEASE quit complaining and get in the bath.”

Keeping up the toddler persona, Tom huffed but reluctantly nodded in agreement - you had come up trumps. It didn’t stop him yelping when you helped to lower him in. His breath was shaky, as a response to the ‘cold’, but he was firming it. At least when you felt his forehead after a couple of minutes, it certainly seemed as though the fever was starting to ease off .

“You can go if you want.” His voice was murmured and as you looked up at him, he did his very best to avoid your gaze.

“Not a chance, if you drown on my watch, Nikki will never forgive me.” At the very least he seemed to appreciate your joke, scoffing a little with a small nod. “If you don’t want me here I get it. As soon as Harry’s back, I’ll swap with him.”

“No! It’s not that its… I’m just an ass when I’m ill.”

“A self aware ass, though.” Again he chuckled a little, as you folded your arms on the edge of the porcelain tub, resting your head lying to one side. “You had me pretty scared there for a moment, you know?”

He nodded a little, creating a wave of ripples in the water which you watched to avoid his gaze - which you knew was tracing all your features inquisitively.

“Hey it’s in the job description, always a bit dramatic... I’m sorry though I should never of called you- don’t know why I didn’t just get Harry.” In response you tutted, taking a moment to lean up and push his sweaty curls back a bit.

Just because you could, it was allowed in this moment.

“’m glad you did.”

“Yeh me too” He sighed, eyes fluttering shut in the easy silence of the bathroom. You kept a vigilant eye on him for the next 20 minutes, checking the temperature of his forehead using the back of your hand, whilst he seemed to finally get a bit of proper restbite, appearing like the worst had passed. You had no idea what was taking Harry so long; in fact it was the doctor that arrived first- who you ran to let in (not wanting to leave Tom asleep in the bath one bit).

Whilst the doctor did all his checks, taking his temperature properly this time, satisfied that it was much more manageable. He still wanted to set him up with some oral rehydration rescue packs to get his hydration status a bit better and give some anti-sickness tablets and antipyretics.

Having actually been getting some rest before all the prodding and poking, Tom was back to being a grumbling dick - now not wanting to leave the bath (the irony was real - making you roll your eyes). Once again, he appeared embarrassed to have you see him like this, so you left the doctor to help him get out and changed- instead going down to reception to get a fresh set of sheets, as he’d done a pretty impressive job of sweating through the old ones.

Even if tired and grumpy, when Tom exited the bathroom, he looked much better - he was walking himself without the doctor’s help. Which honestly was such a relief because when he had passed out on you, you genuinely were terrified. Thankfully the doctor stayed for the next 20 or so minutes, which was just when Harry returned with a bag of medications - which were now wholly redundant, given the doctor had already supplied everything.

“What happened?” Harry asked you in a hushed voice, whilst Tom was distracted with getting his medications. Recounting the story of Tom pretty much passing out, Harry grimaced for you, then launching over to give you a tight hug.

“Are you okay?” That was a novel idea, you hadn’t really thought about yourself at all - but honestly, you were a bit shaken, having been running on adrenalin for most of the night.

“I-uhm… yeh I think so… just-just was a bit scared, I guess? Felt bad too because he didn’t want me there but-“

“I can promise you Y/n, he did want you there. Just probably embarrassed he wasn’t all manly and that…” With a nod, you smiled softly at the frizzy-haired boy.

Whilst working with Tom, it also meant getting pretty close to his younger brother. The two Hollands were almost attached at the hip, which you were very much okay with.

It was weird though... your relationships were completely different. Harry was just your brother, through and through. He wound you up like a sibling but also knew you as if he had your whole life. With Tom… it wasn’t that. Arguably, you were closer to Tom, but on a different level. It was more exciting, more nerve-wracking and heartwarming all at the same time. Honestly, you couldn’t get your head around it properly.

“Hey, you’re probably shattered. Why don’t you go back to your room and get some sleep? I got it in here.” You knew Hary was trying to offer something nice, and now all the excitement had worn off, you were unbelievably shattered. But you didn’t like the idea of not being there, as a just in case.

“Uhm, I think I might just stay, you know?” And he did, with a deliberate, knowing smile, he nodded.

He knew you were worried. He knew Tom had really really scared you. He also knew how much you cared about his brother.

Just like how Harry knew Tom wanted you there, even if he felt embarrassed. Well, anyone would- when you are passing out half-naked in front of the one person that really matters.

It was just at this point that the doctor was done, giving Harry instructions about the rest of the day, when you made a beeline for the bed. Tom was propped up against the headboard, still with a pale sullen look and tired eyes, but a bit less clammy and more human. He cracked a smile as you crawled up onto the other side of the bed, kneeling next to him.

“How’re you doin’?”

“All drugged up, just feel fucking exhausted.” Instinctively you reached up to feel his forehead, really appreciating the fact it felt almost normal.

“Join the club mate, I had a 5am wake up call too.” You almost whispered, intending to make Tom laugh, but instead only getting a pout.

“I am sorry, a-are you going to go back to your room?”

“Nah” Tom’s eyes didn’t light up, except the fact that they very much did. “Can’t trust you not to get into trouble while I’m gone Holland.”

“Thanks.” He laughed weakly before shimmying down on the bed, so he was much more comfortable. “And thankyou, I-I’m sorry I’m a dickhead and made your life-“

“Shut up Tom!” Laughing, you lightly slapped his arm, also leaning down on the bed, so you were lying facing him. “You’re all feverish; go to sleep before you say something stupid.”

There was a long pause, Tom just gazing deep into your eyes, because he was pretty sure what he was thinking was nothing to do with the dodgy unidentified meat he’d had the evening before.

“What... like asking you out?”

…..

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so stupid.”

~~~~im really not sure how I feel about this one, let me know what you thought ;) ~~~~

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter@hollandfanficlove

#tomholland #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #hurt comfort #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #harry holland

[noteguk]

danger zone | knj | m

— summary; in which namjoon lives a dangerous life and sometimes you can’t really stand it. Still, you can’t step away either. 

— contents and warnings; smut, a little spark of angst and a fuckload of fluff, criminal!namjoon x reader, established relationship, dom!namjoon and sub!reader, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), dirty talk, begging, Namjoon has a big dick, unprotected sex, creampie, a bit of possessiveness, multiple orgasms, overstimulation 

— words; 4,5k 

— author’s note; this was supposed to be a quick pwp drabble but here we are… 

Words could not explain the relief that washed over you when you saw the headlights peaking through the diaphanous living room curtains, blasting inside your house like beacons of divine hope. You ran to the front door faster than ever before, stepping into the cold mist of the night as he closed the car door behind him. You managed to see his friend, Hoseok, waving you goodbye before he pulled out of the driveway and you started balling your eyes out. 

And then you couldn’t really see anything else. 

Namjoon did not hesitate to walk toward you, wrapping his strong arms around your lower back and pulling you closer to his warm chest. He smelled of vanilla and cigarettes, and your knees almost buckled at the thought of losing that scent forever. 

“Baby, you’re gonna catch a cold,” he mumbled, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. Namjoon positioned one hand on the nape of your neck, playing with your hair as you whimpered against his hot embrace, fists clenched over his pecs. You were wearing only pyjama shorts and a tank top, and the gelid breeze of the night showed you no mercy. “Why don’t we go inside?” 

For a moment you thought that your legs would fail you, but, to your relief, it was just a feeble impression. Namjoon held you tightly against him as you two walked back inside your house, mumbling how much he missed you, how much he couldn’t wait to see you again. All that you could do was to listen, with your nose stuffy and eyes tearing up, as he started telling you about his past few weeks.

You had been sure you had lost him that time. Namjoon had never stayed longer than a day without talking to you (or at least telling you that he would be a bit M.I.A. for the following weeks, because of the secretive nature of his work), and the fact that you had gotten nothing but silence for almost three weeks was enough to make your mind go wild. It wasn’t hard to imagine that the worst had finally happened. 

There was no one you could call — as in, you had a few numbers, but you were prohibited to get in contact with them. Namjoon had made it clear that he didn’t want you to get involved in his business, and something as simple as a phone call to the wrong person could be enough to get you wrapped up in an official investigation. He had made special efforts to make sure that, in case all went to shit, the feds could never prove that you knew anything about his illicit schemes. If something happened to him — prison, death, something in between — Namjoon would be at peace knowing that you were safe and taken care of. 

So, you had been good, and you didn’t call. You had just waited, fighting through your normal routine and forging fake smiles towards your coworkers. By the time that the second week rolled around, you were considering calling every morgue in the country — and then quickly melted down once you realized he was probably not even using his real name. There was nothing you could do but wait. For god knows how long. 

Times like those made you want to give up on everything. You and Namjoon had a chemistry that you never felt before, you understood each other in levels that you never thought possible. He loved you with all of his heart and you felt the same. And yet, you were exhausted from being so scared for him, from feeling so helpless in the face of his unstable and unpredictable job. 

You had told yourself that, if he came back, you would end it all. 

But now that he was standing in front of you, things weren’t so easy. 

Your boyfriend took you to the kitchen, where he warmed up a drink for you as he told you about how he had spent those last few weeks. Namjoon explained that one of his shipments had been stolen (of what, you didn’t dare to ask), and he had to take care of it himself. During that time, he and his crew were being attacked and watched constantly, and he would never risk the idea of pulling you into that mess. It was an unspoken truth that having you as a hostage would make all of his defenses crumble. Expressing any sort of weakness in his business was like bleeding in a sea full of sharks.  

You understood, because of course you would. And he understood when you told him about how terrified, how overwhelmingly worried you had been. 

“I wanted to call Yoongi, Hoseok… I don’t know, anyone,” you said, taking your cup of tea closer to your face. The heat emanated in waves, warming up your lips as the thin lines of smoke curled up in the air. You took a small slip, and the coldness of the night was just a memory then. “But I knew that I shouldn’t do that, so I just… Joon, I thought you were dead.” 

“I’m so sorry, love.” Namjoon pulled you in, wrapping one arm around your back and pressing a kiss against your forehead. You always felt so safe in his arms, like nothing could ever touch you. “I know how you feel, it’s unfair making you go through this.” 

“It is.” You sniffed, looking down at your tea cup. “But it’s all for you. And I love you, Joon.” 

There was a second of silence as the words floated in the space between the two of you, a deep sigh from your part as you placed the cup on the marble surface of the kitchen island. That house felt too big for you, too spacious and filled with expensive stuff, and it whispered doubts in your ear. You didn’t know where all that money came from, you often didn’t know what Namjoon was doing or what he was thinking about. You had no idea what kind of dangers he faced every single day, or the hoops he had to jump through to keep you safe. 

You could have given up on everything already. You knew that he would understand. But you didn’t. Time and time again, you would realize that all your momentaneous bravery towards a breakup was short-lived: you loved him more than you feared losing him. You wanted Namjoon and no one else. You knew that ending things and stepping into an ordinary life, with an ordinary guy and ordinary worries, would never cut it. You had learned to live in the danger zone that was your relationship with Namjoon, and you doubted you could ever truly step away from it. 

Namjoon knew that too. He looked down at you with a deep mixture of tenderness and devotion in his dark eyes, caressing your cheek as he dove in to place a kiss on your lips. “I love you too, baby,” he murmured. “I missed you so much.”  

You melted in his hold, surrounding his waist with your arms and pushing yourself against his chest. “Missed you too,” you said. “I know why you keep these things secret from me, but it fucking sucks.” 

Namjoon chuckled, his calloused hands caressing your hair. You realized that he probably was just as worried as you — not knowing if you were safe, if you hadn’t gotten yourself in a messy situation trying to find him. Needless to say, he was filled with pride knowing you did everything he had asked you to. “I’m gonna tell you a secret, but you can’t tell anyone.” The suspense in his voice was enough for you to pull away from his chest, looking up at him with expectant eyes. Namjoon cupped your checks with his hands and smiled. “You're the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” 

You could not fight the smirk that crawled up on your lips. That simple sentence was enough to shift the weight of the atmosphere around the two of you, allowing for your hurt to slip away. “Bullshit,” you said. 

“I’m serious.” He raised his eyebrows, lowering himself so he could place another pec on your lips. “Inside and out.”

That time, you could not hold back your laugh. “You’re so cheesy.” 

Your comment seemed to light up something inside his head, because, the next second, Namjoon was pulling away with a click of his tongue. “Speaking of cheesy, I almost forgot,” he started to say, turning around. “I got you something. It’s in the bedroom with the rest of my stuff.” 

You stood still for a second, trying to understand his words. “You... got me something? In the middle of all of that mess?” Then you were rushing behind him, going up the stairs as Namjoon simply hummed in agreement. “Joon, it’s okay, I—“ 

“Accept my gift, baby.” He stopped as he reached the second floor, waiting for you to catch up. “It’s not gonna make up for the time away, but I want to make you happy.” 

“What is it?” You asked, wet eyes blinking up at him, but he only smiled and turned around, gesturing for you to follow him into the bedroom. 

~ 

Namjoon’s present was a dress — or, rather, the dress. It was this beautiful long gown you had seen a few months back during one of your trips to the mall, a grandiose red thing that wrapped around the mannequin’s upper body before expanding just beneath its thighs. You remember feeling overwhelmed by its beauty, holding Namjoon’s hand tighter as you shared your amazement with him. Your fascination was short lived, though, because soon the price tag scared you away and you made yourself forget about that overpriced dream. 

Until that night, that was. Namjoon told you he had the gift ready to go before it all went down with the shipment situation, and the image of you wearing it was one of the few things that managed to keep him sane for so long. The glimmer of happiness in his eyes was enough for you to silence yourself before you could argue about the dress’ ostentatious price, instead choosing to thank him. 

You changed in the large bathroom of your master suite, eyes lost in the way the red shade, pure as sin, clung to your body like it was made for you. There was a wave of love gushing out of your heart, a joyfulness that only came from those little surprises that Namjoon would give you. You loved it. You loved him. 

“God,” Namjoon mumbled to himself when you stepped out of the bathroom, his figure sitting on the corner of your large bed. There was a moment of silence as his eyes ran all over your body, trying to memorize every little detail of you, his mind going blank and his mouth dropping in awe. “I might as well fall to my knees and ask for your hand in marriage now.”

You giggled, stepping closer to the bed. “Careful, I might say yes,” you told him, placing your arms around his shoulders. Namjoon looked up at you with so much devotion that you thought you could collapse at any given point. “I loved it. Thank you, Joon.”

He hummed, taking his large palms to rest on either side of your waist. You could feel his heat emanating through the fabric of the dress, sending waves of anticipation up and down your body. “I’m glad you did,” he spoke, his voice much lower than before. You knew Namjoon enough to know exactly what he was thinking, and there was nothing you wanted more than that. “My girl is so pretty…”

His lips were on your neck soon after, nipping and sucking your skin like they were made for that. Namjoon’s hands were trying to explore everywhere at the same time, moving from to your breasts to your waist, then back down your thighs and up your hips and toward your ass — where he placed a strong grip. 

“So fucking pretty… all mine,” he was speaking to himself at that point, his breath heavy around your collarbones. Namjoon tugged at the sides of the dress, completely ignoring the zipper as he tried to take it off of you. 

You laughed at his eagerness. “Careful with the dress, Joon.” 

“I’ll buy you another one.” He tugged at the fabric again, harder that time, and you were afraid that he was actually going to tear it in half if you didn’t act soon. “I’ll buy you any dress you want, don’t care if I ruin this one.” 

“I don’t want any other dresses, though.” Your hands left his shoulders and moved up your back, finding the zipper and swiftly pulling it down. Soon enough, the dress was just a pool of redness circling your feet. “I just want you.” 

Namjoon swallowed hard at the image of your bare body in full display for him — he should’ve known you wouldn’t wear any underwear with that piece of sin, and he couldn’t say that he was disappointed. All that it took you was one glimpse at his pants to see his hard cock already straining against the fabric, needy for you. 

“So beautiful,” he said, reaching out to place his hand on your hip. Namjoon’s eyes were everywhere at once, drinking you up. You knew he was holding back, he could flip you over and fuck you into the mattress at any second he wished to. “Is this all for me, baby?” 

“Yes,” you told him, taking his hand and guiding it to your breast. Namjoon squeezed the soft flesh, making you whimper at the feeling. “All yours, Joon.” 

“All mine,” he repeated, finally breaking out of his trance and meeting your stare. Namjoon was probably stressed out of his mind, and you just managed to turn all that negative energy into pure sexual stamina. Not that you were complaining. “Want you to lay down for me, baby.” 

You did not hesitate to do as he requested, moving around the large circular bed and placing your head against the soft pillows. There was a fire of expectation burning at the pit of your stomach and accumulating between your thighs, which only grew as you watched your boyfriend undress for you. 

Namjoon was quick and objective with his movements and soon enough he was naked, his golden skin shining under the warm lights and his big cock standing erect and flushed, ready for you. Just by looking at him you could feel your walls clenching, a sigh perishing on your lips at the memory of his member inside you, stretching you out like no one else could. Your boyfriend didn’t only have one of the biggest dicks you had ever seen, but he also knew how to use it — a dangerous combination that mostly explained why you couldn’t walk straight after a good night by his side. Again: not that you were complaining. 

The mattress dipped under his weight, your eyes following his movements as Namjoon placed himself between your legs. His eyes were hungry and focused, more than you had seen in a while, and when he commanded you to “Open your legs for me, love,” you couldn’t obey fast enough. 

Namjoon hummed in content as he leaned down between your thighs, one finger lazily dragging upwards between your soaked folds. He barely touched you, but you were so on the edge that the motion was enough to make you sigh. “Such a pretty cunt,” he said, and the finger moved back down, tenderly rubbing around your sensitive entrance. You flinched at the feeling, biting on your lip to suppress a moan. “So wet for me. Did you touch yourself while I was gone, baby?” 

There was no reason to lie, he would know regardless. “Yes, but only once.” 

It was true: after Namjoon had stopped contacting you, you were so scared that you didn’t even think about anything sexual — nor were you in the right mindset for that. 

He seemed to like your response, humming for a moment before he took a second digit to your entrance — never going in, though, only teasing its surroundings. “Was it good, baby?” 

You knew exactly what he wanted to hear, “Not as good as you,” you said, leaning on your elbows so you could hold his gaze better. Namjoon was looking at you like a starved man, and you knew it was just a matter of time before his own self-control ran thin. “Your cock is so much better.” 

He chuckled — a deep, melodious chuckle that sent heat straight to your core. “Needy girl,” he said, gaze flickering towards your face. “I can’t give it to you just like that. What’s the fun in doing something so fast? You have to earn my cock.” 

Patience was not a virtue you shared with your boyfriend, though, and that was why Namjoon loved to push you to the limits of your self-restraints. You had been foolish to think that things would be different just because he missed you. “How?” You asked, ready to do whatever he asked. 

Namjoon hummed, pretending to think for a moment. His fingers left your opening behind and he moved closer to your pussy, taking a long look at it before saying, “Cum on my tongue and I’ll think about giving it to you.” 

Before you could even think about what to respond, his mouth was on you and your head was spinning. Namjoon repeated the same motions of his fingers — licking a thick stripe up your folds and then back down, protruding the wet muscle against your entrance, swirling his tongue around it. You whimpered at the feeling, body crashing against the bed and fingers intertwining on his hair as he decided to move back up, lips wrapping around your clit as he gave you a gentle suck, humming when you started to moan out his name. 

“Right there, please,” you asked, your voice nothing but a pathetic plea. 

Namjoon, however, was marching to the beat of his own drum. He ignored your request and neglected your clit so his mouth could return to your opening, this time allowing his tongue inside you, drinking every drop of wetness you were giving him. A tremulous breath got caught in your throat when he pressed two of his fingers on your hole, coating it with his saliva before plunging in. 

You cried out, your back arching off the mattress as he continued with his ministrations; his fingers stretching you out as his mouth returned to play with your clit. Namjoon had you the way he liked it: a hot mess sprawled on the bed, seeking your high like it was the most important thing in the world. And he, of course, wouldn’t mind giving it to you as many times as you wanted it. 

The sounds you were making were lewd, mixing with the noises of his fingers pumping in and out of your clenching heat. Namjoon was only human: his cock was so hard that he was losing his mind, and the gorgeous sight of you fumbling under his touches was making him wish you could just cum so he could fuck the soul out of you. 

And because you two were in sync, that was exactly what you did. Namjoon watched in awe as you came around his digits, tightening around him so perfectly that he swore he was about to spill himself on his pristine white sheets. But he managed to keep it together as you continued to roll your pussy against his face, milking the last drops of your orgasm as your wetness dripped down his fingers. 

Namjoon moved away when you started to produce those high-pitched whimpers that signaled your sensitivity. He climbed up over you and crashed his lips on yours, humming as your tongues danced together, filling your mouth with your own taste. His cock was enlarged and heavy against your lower body, barely brushing on your sensitive clit. 

He pulled away so he could speak, his voice was a devilish low groan swimming in the hot air. “Want my cock inside you, baby?”

You were spent already, both of you knew that, and yet there was no hesitation in your tone when you promptly answered with a timid, “Yes, please.”

No matter how much you loved Namjoon’s mouth and fingers on you, there was nothing in the world that could compare to the feeling of having his cock thrusting inside you, filling you up so perfectly. You could fight against a bit of pain, you had done that a few times already, and you knew how fast your boyfriend was to turn everything back into pleasure. 

“Can you cum again for me?” He asked, lowering his hand so he could align himself with your pussy. You swallowed at the brushing of his head against your hole, heartbeat quickening in anticipation. “Can you do one more, baby?” 

You nodded, looking deep inside his eyes. “Yes, as many times as you want.” 

“I don’t deserve you,” Namjoon spoke gently, honest as ever. He leaned in and kissed you slowly, savoring the caresses of your lips as he sighed against the kiss. “You’re too good for me.” 

And then he was pushing himself inside you, spreading you open like he was meant to be there, filling you up to the brim. You heaved and held to his shoulders as Namjoon reached incredibly deep inside you, getting used to his size. No matter how many times he fucked you, every time still felt like the first. 

“Fuck, your pussy feels perfect, like it was made for me,” he cursed, slowly thrusting inside you. You whimpered at the delicious drag of his cock against your walls, already experiencing the switch of pain to pleasure. “Keep your legs up for me, baby.”

You could only nod, pushing your legs to the level of your chest. That small change was enough to give Namjoon just a bit more space to slip into, a grunt exploding on his throat. 

“Joon,” you called. Namjoon looked up at you, his eyes dazed and unfocused. “Fuck me, please.” 

That was all that he needed. Self-control long forgotten, Namjoon buried his face on the crook of your neck and went to town — fucking you so fast and hard that you swore you had never moaned so loud in your life. Suddenly, everything was becoming too much: the bouncing of your breasts, the pressure of his hands on your thighs, the drilling of his hard cock inside you. Every worry you had those past few weeks were washed away just like that, barely an echo at the bottom of your head. 

Namjoon was a mess above you, grunting and moaning out as his cock fucked you open, your walls clenching around him like you were his personal brand of heaven. “Fuck, you feel so tight,” he cried out, already recognizing that familiar pressure at the base of his spine. “Such a perfect pussy for me, baby.” 

“Feels so good, Joon,” you said back, tugging at his hair. “Look at me.” 

It seemed to take him an herculean amount of force, but Namjoon did as you requested, meeting that fucked-out gaze he adored so much. “What is it?” 

You smiled tenderly at him, a timid moan falling from your lips. “I love you.” 

Now Namjoon was absolutely sure that he was in paradise, floating in the clouds above. He could not hold back the smile that crossed his face. “I love you too, baby.” He kissed you. “Are you close?” 

You nodded. “Really close.” 

“Cum on my cock for me, then,” he urged you on, not stopping with his advances. He felt so good inside you; your mind was consumed by all of him: his smell, his warmth, the deepness of his voice and the lust in his gaze. At that moment, Namjoon was everything in the world for you. “Come on, I wanna feel it.” 

And you did as he requested, clenching around his cock not even two minutes later. You sobbed and whimpered at the feeling, calling out his name again and again until Namjoon found his own high, spilling himself inside you, milking his cock in your pussy until you were full of him. He thrusted a few more times, trying to make that moment last a bit longer, and he only stopped once he started to grow soft inside you. 

Namjoon turned around and crashed next to you on the mattress, his arm curling around your waist as you fumbled closer to him. With a happy sigh, you nestled against his chest, drowning in his warmth as his fingers caressed your skin. 

The instant of peace was glorious, and you had almost started to drift away into a tranquil sleep when his voice broke the silence. “I’m gonna have to travel again next week,” he said. 

Your heart started hammering against your chest, stomach curling in anxiety. You raised your head from his chest and stared at Namjoon, your lips opening and closing before you finally found your voice. “But… You just got home.”

“I know, that’s why you’re coming with me.” He smirked. You must’ve shown him the most confused expression, because Namjoon could not hold back his laugh. “It’s not business, baby, don’t worry. You and I are just going to have some well-deserved time together. How does that sound?” 

Relief washed over you for the second time that night, calming your anxiety instantly. “Amazing,” you admitted, resting yourself back against him. You could really use a vacation, you didn’t know the last time you had a proper one. And even better if it was with him. “Thank you, Joon.”

“I should be the one thanking you.” He breathed out. The caresses on your skin were calling the sleepiness back into your body, and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you floated into the land of dreams. It has been a long time since you had a proper night of sleep — you had been too restless waiting for his return. “I know this is really hard for you. You know I’d understand if you wanted to leave.” 

You smiled lovingly, placing a kiss against his chest. “It’s worth it if it’s for you,” you mumbled. 

And you knew he felt the same. 

#bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #bts x reader #bts x you #smut #fluff #angst #namjoon fluff #kim namjoon #criminal au #bts au #namjoon au #x you #x reader #reader insert

[inkbyajm]

Sense of Enervation

pairing: C.H. x reader

category: fluff

words: 1.2k+

notes: this was requested by a lovely anon who’s been overworking lately. if you’re reading this, please take at least a teeny bit of time off to take care of yourself and your nerves :( in the meantime, i hope this brings a bit of relief into your life

Wake up, work, eat something, sleep. Wake up, work again, eat a little, work more. Your routine had been pretty much the same for what felt like ions. Christ, you don’t even remember the last time your mind was occupied by anything other than work and responsibilities.

Your schedule had changed recently, demanding twice as much hard work, taking up twice as much time and requiring twice as much energy. Except, where were you supposed to get energy from if you never slept? Well, according to scientists, the length of a normal sleep cycle is only about 1.5 hours. So, technically, you should get away with sleeping for only two hours every night, right? You had read about how some people did have that kind of lifestyle, the amount of time they saved was the most appealing aspect of it.

In the beginning, like with all beginnings, it was quite difficult and demanded a lot of willpower, you were convinced that your body simply wasn’t built that way. But with time, you found it easier to wake up without wanting to lie in bed a little longer, the grogginess barely there. Sure, you helped your body replenish its rapidly burning energy supply with endless cups of coffee, a few cans of energy drinks and a sprinkle of cold showers, but it was a system that worked. You had to keep it up until things settled down.

Unfortunately, this meant you had barely any time for Corpse. Bless his soul for he never complained once or whined about how you never spent time with him. Good thing was, you lived on the same street, which permitted him to drop by your place whenever he wanted to. Had he known of your borderline self-destructing schedule? Not exactly, but you didn’t feel like telling him was necessary, it would only worry him more.

━

It was a cloudy Thursday morning. You had slept a little longer than usual, but you figured there was no reason to get worked up over that, you could get back on track later. Just like on any other day, you got up to start your morning routine, quickly ate some breakfast, and swiftly went on to start on your duties. Oddly enough, you weren’t really feeling all that well that morning. There was a hint of drowsiness and your mind seemed foggier than usual. Assuming it was simply from the extra hour you had managed to sleep, you thought nothing more of it and brushed it aside.

Towards the end of the day, or when the sun had already set and the time had come for normal folks to eat dinner, you felt a bit hungry yourself and tiredly dragged your feet to the kitchen. Your neck and shoulders ached more than ever, not only due to poor posture, but because of stress also. Sighing, you walked into the room only to find your partner there, in front of an open cupboard.

“Jesus, Corpse,” you exhaled, a hand over your heart, “I just about had a heart attack. When did you get here?”

He lightly chuckled with a confused look on his face. “I came in like two minutes ago? I greeted you, too.”

“Oh. Right, sorry. My mind is all over the place today.” With a frown, he walked over to you and pulled you in by the waist.

“Are you alright? You don’t look too well.” he said, gingerly cupping your face, “did you get any sleep last night?”

“I did, actually. I even got more sleep than usual. I’ll be fine, though. I guess it’s just one of those days.” you reassured him with a soft smile and pecked his cheek. He didn’t push any further.

Getting a mug from the cupboard, you placed it on the counter in front of you and stopped. What was it that you were doing? Weren’t you here for something else?

“(Y/N)?” you heard Corpse call out and turned to look at him with raised brows, “you were just kind of...staring at the cup. Are you trying to summon something or...?”

Food. That’s what you wanted. You supposed you’d get coffee too while you were at it. You scanned the room, looking through the shelves of the pantry. “Where did I put the coffee?” Stopping you in your actions, Corpse simply turned you back around and there you saw it, sitting right against the wall behind your cup.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You seem dazed.” he expressed his worry, rubbing your shoulders in a soothing manner.

You let out a long sigh. There was no way of avoiding it now. “I’ve been sleeping like two hours a night because I’m literally swamped with work, and I guess the fatigue has finally slipped through the cracks of the almighty caffeine.” You realised how hypocritical it was of you to be in this situation, given the fact that you always pushed Corpse to take better care of himself. 

Without another word, he took you to the living room and sat down against the arm of the couch. He then guided you to sit between his legs and began gently massaging your shoulders and upper back.

“I, out of all people, should know how fucking shitty it feels to get barely any sleep. And I understand how important your work is, but it won’t kill you to take a short break.” His voice sounded so mellow and soothing, you couldn’t help but loosen up in his embrace.

“I actually had a pretty decent day. I found a bakery that made cinnamon fucking raisin bread, so I had to order some. I wasn’t sure if I was going to stream or not, but then James Charles invited me to play hunger games on some Minecraft server. It was fucking insane. We had to like fight each other to death in this huge map-” 

Corpse continued to talk about how he was chased by three people at some point, how scared he was of constantly dying and ultimately not being able to provide good content, but how he ended up having a good few rounds, even managing to kill a couple of folks all by himself. 

━

Slowly opening your eyes, you took a moment to realise you were back in your bed, your pyjamas still on. It was quite dark in your room, near pitch-black. Had all that simply been a super realistic dream? Looking at the time, your brows furrowed more. It was well past bed-time. Suddenly, the door to your bedroom had opened and in came a curly haired figure.

“Shit, you’re awake.” he spoke as quietly as he could so as to not disturb the peace, “I had to take my medication, but the fucking bottle wouldn’t open. I’m sorry if I was too loud.”

A sleepy smile creeped onto your face. “You didn’t wake me up, bubba, don’t worry.”

He crawled under the covers and snaked his arms around your frame. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good, actually. Thank you.” you sighed contentedly, closing your eyes once again as you breathed in his cologne.

“Good, because you’re gonna be stuck here until you’re fully rested. There is no escaping the embrace of death. You try, you die.” You would have laughed at his nonsensical humor, had it not been for the exhaustion that had taken over your mind and body. The last thing you registered before drifting off to a long-awaited slumber was a delicate kiss placed on the top of your head and a very quiet “I love you”.

#corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband x you #corpse x you #corpse husband fic

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Hold Me, I’m Soft ~ Mammon x Reader

This is going to refer to the DevilGram story with Madi the Witch, because it didn’t sit right with me how Mammon got used and laughed at for being sexually assaulted, especially when I related to that in more ways then I’d want to admit, so there it is, a short little fic to give Monnie some love, especially since his birthday will be this week and I will be at the mountains, unable to actually post anything other than a Happy Birthday maybe.

Ever since she got to the Devildom, Y/N wondered to herself why in the world would the brothers bully Mammon so much, to the point that he’ll break down in tears when nobody is around?

He’s the most gentle of the brothers, yet he’s met with nothing more than taunts and mocking because of his greed. It’s not like he can help it, it’s his Avatar sin, he didn’t choose it. People get annoyed at Beel for eating too much and constantly raiding the fridge, for when he indulges in the pleasure of greed, he’s suddenly the scummy trash brother who’s just a waste of space. The family’s embarrassment.

But why should he be that, when he’s the only one who never gave in to his demonic power from rage? Never tried to attack or kill her and never got in his demon form to lash out at her?

Mammon was the first one to ever call her by her name and even give her nicknames. He was the first one to call her out to the cinema, concerts, shopping, pranking time, board games, card games, and even video games or just some quality time together.

He was the one to taught her how to be an undefeated Blackjack player and how to spot when someone is lying. He was the one to taught her how to flawlessly cheat in games and how to protect herself if something happened.

Even more, he was the one who graciously asked if she wanted to workout with him so she could be stronger and faster if anything were to happen and he wouldn’t be around, just like how it happened long ago, when Levi lost control and almost attacked her.

And, of course, he was the only one who constantly asked her if she was okay, if she was happy, if she needed anything. He would always pamper her whenever he thought she stopped smiling for one split second, or if he thinks she was faking it. He would grab TSL and some comfort food, hot chocolate with marshmallows and would cuddle her all night, playing with her hair.

It really pissed her off, but no matter what she did, and no matter how much she tried to make the others at least tone it down, of course, millennia of habits cannot be so easily tamed.

These were the constant thoughts that plagued Y/N’s mind, yet the white haired man will never know, because she is a girl of few words and many actions.

Today, however, as usual, was the time for some new shenanigans, as Lucifer and Satan must be the escorts of some powerful witch, as per Diavolo’s request, since he literally can’t stand her - And that speaks loads, when it comes to the benevolent Demon Prince.

“Hey, is it really gonna be okay to leave those two by themselves like that?” Mammon asked with a worried expression on his face. “Well, neither of them are saying anything...For now, at least.” Asmo held the same expression as his elder brother. “Yeah, you just KNOW that they’re going to blow up any minute. It’s so exciting!” Levi spoke with a chuckle. “Hey, why is it that you only ever come outta your room at times like this, Levi? I thought you were s’posed to be a shut-in.” Mammon raised his eyebrow at his little brother. “Well, this is Lucifer and Satan. They almost NEVER work together, much less when it’s just the two of them! I mean, if I’d missed an event like this, I’d regret it for the next 800 years.” Levi grinned, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Diavolo was pretty bold to make them work together, if you ask me.” Y/N muttered, crossing her arms and peeking through the door creak.

Saying that, the four of them leaned in the peek better and listen to their conversation.

“Be careful. If Maddi takes a liking to a man, she’ll bring him back home with her.” Lucifer smirked at his younger brother. “As if you need to remind me...I recall how Mammon went home with her that one time. Mammon must have regretted going with her, because by the time he got back, he was on the verge of tears. I remember it like it was yesterday!” Satan shook his head in disbelief, making the girl gasp, covering her mouth with her hands. “HEY! I wasn’t!” Mammon frowned at what he just heard, making Asmo shush him quickly so they won’t be heard. “I don’t even want to THINK about what must’ve happened between those two that night. I can’t understand what possessed Mammon to willingly go home with a woman that dangerous. It’s fortunate she didn’t trick him into making a pact with her while he was there in bed half-asleep.” the blond continued speaking, making the girl bite her lip from the shock and pain in her chest. “But there’s no doubt that Mammon didn’t have a good time, because for a while after he came back he had nightmares, and he’s moan in his sleep. He even stopped spending money left and right...MAMMON, of all demons. Still, Maddi IS attractive. She rivals the succubus who won the Queen Contest in terms of beauty. In fact, Maddi might be even MORE beautiful. I’m a little worried that you’ll end up like Mammon - That as soon as she uses her feminine wiles on you, you’ll fold like a paper airplane.” hearing that, she couldn’t stop herself and she fled the place, going to her room to regain herself, not giving anyone any explanation.

She already made up her mind that, despite being the middle of the day, she will skip both lunch and dinner, so changing in her pyjamas, she got in bed, cuddling the hellhound plushie Mammon got her, and wrapped herself in a tight cocoon with her blanket, not wanting to see the light of the day.

So many thoughts were swirling in her mind, each of them more and more degrading, overpowering one another, guilt taking over her completely.

She prided herself with being a ration person, she really did! She always put ration and logic over hindering emotions...But now...When she can overthink in peace...The ration she held completely dissipated, and here she was, crying her heart out once again.

Why WAS she crying for, anyway?

Was it because she felt Mammon’s pain at having being used like that, against his will, because he’s an innocent and peaceful push-over? 

Was it because she remembered what happened to her, and her heart started aching like crazy, and she began to spiral? 

Was it because she felt plain, ordinary and completely nothing special, when she heard Lucifer saying that Maddi is the most beautiful person in the world and that’s why Mammon was lured in by her?

Or was it the guilt of being affected by jealousy and self-hatred before the pain from what that vile woman did to him?

What the hell was going on through her head, anyway? She heard enough opinions about her and how terrible of a girlfriend she was, why should she even have any hope that Mammon would ever like her? And why the hell was she worrying about that, when she should be worrying about the poor demon?!

She’s really nothing more than a selfish jerk.

As if on cue, she heard the familiar sound of a received message on her D.D.D., and curiosity won over her self-deprecating sulking, and she checked it out, making her heart skip a few beats.

It was Monnie, and he was asking if she was okay and why she left.

Tears started brimming in her eyes, and letting out a few more sobs, she realised that, even thought he doesn’t romantically love her, he will always be her best friend, and she was at least content with that, no matter how selfish she is.

She quickly texted him, asking if it was okay if she came over later, for a sleepover, and of course, he agreed, so the girl put a cardigan over her so it wouldn’t be too obvious she was in her pyjamas - Not that it mattered, anyway - and got some snacks, made some hot chocolate and went to Mammon’s room, finding him in a tanktop and some large pants, playing some game on his phone.

“Took you long enough!” Mammon grinned, making room for her to join him. “What’s with that face? You stormed out of there, so somethin’ must’ve bothered ya. Come on, y’know you can tell me.” he got in a sitting position, looking at her with a concerned look, but was met with silence for a many seconds, in which he feared he must have said something wrong. “I, uh...I guess I got worried about you after what they said...But I didn’t have the best reaction...I needed some time to think things over. It was pretty selfish of me to do that, instead of talking to you first...But I guess I’ve always been pretty selfish, haven’t I?” she chuckled nervously, still standing up, next to the bed. “What the hell are ya on about? Is it about that Maddi thing? Forget it, it happened long ago, it doesn’t bother me anymore.” he shrugged, looking away for a split second, only to look back at her. “I...Don’t think you’re over it.” she bit her lip, looking down, sucking at her teeth to stop herself from sketching any gesture on her face. “What do ya know about that, anyway? Come on, shut up and put the movie on, I ain’t got all day!” he tried to make her stop talking already, but she wasn’t exactly paying attention. “I had a similar experience too and...When I heard what happened, flashes of what happened went in front of my eyes and I started panicking. That’s why I ran away.” she spoke, her eyes glossed and unfocused. “Is that why ya wanted to hang out?” Mammon muttered softly, seeing her slowly nod her head. “I never told anyone...And so, nobody was there to care about me. But you always cared about me...And I wanted to do the same, for once.” she gulped, blinking and putting everything on the nightstand next to his bed. “...Come’re, dummy.” he sighed, tugging on her hand and making her sit on his lap, as was their ritual whenever one of them needed comfort. “Did I upset you, Monnie?” she asked, barely audible, making him put his hands on her shoulders, so she could properly look at him. “What?! Upset me?! ‘Course not! I-I’m happy that you thought of me, okay? It’s just...Yeah, it wasn’t nice, duh, but I’m a demon. I can take many things. But you’re such a frail little human. You’re small, fragile and soft, and since nobody wanted to bother getting to know such a nice gal like you, then I will always be there for you.” he put his hands on her face, trying to reach through to her. “...I was supposed to comfort you...Why did it go the other way around...? I was supposed to make sure you okay, that you’re smiling and that you can manage to get over what happened in the past...I wanted to be the one you can count on, for once...But I’m failing even at that...That’s how much of a selfish jerk I am...You deserve better than me, Monnie.” she hung her head, resting her forehead on his shoulder, not realising her words made him stiff, and tears prickled at his eyes. “Shut up, dummy! You’re a dummy! Dummy! Dummy! Never say things like that okay, got it?! Listen, I-I care about you, okay? I don’t care if you manage to comfort me or not, I just care that you think about me, okay? You’re the only one that gives a damn about me, and I appreciate that, okay? You see part of yourself in me, and I see a part of myself in you, so of course I want to keep you safe.” Mammon sighed, holding the girl close to his chest, playing with her hair, as he always did. “Monnie...Can I tell you something?” she muttered. It was now or never. If he hated her, so be it, but at least he knows. “Of course ya can, dummy. You can tell me anythin’ you want.” he said with an encouraging chuckle. “I...Left because I felt guilty. Because...My first thoughts were creeping with jealousy, instead of worrying about you and what happened, first and foremost. My brain fails me big time. And I feel really bad, ‘cause you deserve much better than some idiot who gets jealous over someone vile like...Her.” she let a few tears fall down her face, but poor Mammon was lost in his own head.

Jealous? Why the hell would she be jealous? What could she be jealous of? What is going on even?

“Why would you be jealous of her? You’re better than she’ll ever be, in every way. What the hell is going on through that head of yours, Y/N?” he frowned, flicking her forehead, unsure of how to react. “You heard how Lucifer and Satan spoke about her...And they are Lucifer and Satan. They spoke only praises about her...A-And I didn’t want her to be around you. Y-You’re my first man, Monnie, please understand what I’m saying.” she hid her face with her hands, her bottom lip quivering from embarrassment and guilt. “O-Oh...Ya like me?! Like...Like-Like me?! For reals?!” his voice became so cheerful and hopeful, and as soon as he saw her nodding, he started laughing very happily, kissing her forehead and taking away her hands from her face, his grin bright and dazzling like the first sunshine of Spring. “Cool, ‘cause I love ya too! I was sure you liked one of my brothers, they ain’t as problematic as me, but you like me, your first man, and I couldn’t be happier!” he started kissing her all over her face, making her blush like a tomato. “Why wouldn’t I like you? You’re the best. You’re the only one who has been genuine with me since the very beginning and cared about me. And spending time with you always is always calming and...You always make me happy. I forgot what it’s like to be happy since that happened...But whenever my brain goes stupid and I start overthinking, you always manage to keep me grounded...And I really appreciate you for that.” Y/N spoke out, making Mammon’s eyes water, and with the ordinary greedy impulse he had, he grabbed her face and kissed her deeply, without even realising what in the world happened. “Don’t fluster me like that, Y/N...Actually, do, I love it, but I’m not used to it.” he chuckled nervously, making the girl smile softly. “Can I do anything to make you feel better about...The past?” she asked sheepishly, her hands hanging awkwardly, unsure of what to do with them. “Well...The hot chocolate is going to get cold...And there’s snacks to eat and  movies to binge-watch...” he trailed on, snaking his arms around her waist, making her put hers on his shoulders. “Also...I want to make sure you’re comfortable with me, okay? I dunno what happened to you, but if it’s similar to what happened to me, I want to promise you that I will never do anythin’ you’re not okay with. I pinky promise.” Mammon spoke in a more serious voice, yet just as gentle. “I know, Angel eyes. I trust you the most out of everyone in this world. And I can promise you the same thing.” she managed to give him a proper smile, throwing her arms around him, hugging him tightly, feeling the comforting warmth of his body.

That embrace alone felt, for the both of them, like the sole safe home they ever had, and there was nothing that could break this dream-like state they were in. There was no negativity and no bad thought going through their mind, as the warmth and love of the hug was enough to disperse of any pest lingering and purging their sanity.

When they finally got the courage to let go of each other, fearing that they would disappear from this serenity state, they cuddled together in bed, drinking the now room temperature hot chocolate, eating so many snacks that they resembled Beel, and watching TSL on the huge plasma TV on the wall.

“Monnie?” Y/N raised her head to look up at him, love and admiration obvious in her sparkling eyes. “Thank you for existing in my life. I know you go through great lengths to take care of your brothers and make sure they’re happy...And I know you get hurt a lot in the process...But I really appreciate everything you’re doing, both for me and for them. I’m sure they see it too, they’re just too stupidly proud to admit to themselves...As usual.” she chuckled, reaching to hold his hand and intertwine their fingers together. “Thanks, Y/N. You’re the best. I’m really happy you came to talk to me...And I’m really happy you’re here with me. I love you.”

#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me imagine #mammon #mammon x reader #mammon imagine #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon imagine #lucifer #obey me lucifer #levi #leviathan #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #satan #obey me satan #asmo #asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #beel #beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #belphie #belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor

[what-the--curtains]

Not a Piece of Art

Part 2/5 - The Dinner Party

(Javier Peña x f!reader)

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Summary: You’re invited to the targets house for dinner, will they see through your act? Or can you keep your hatred hidden for long enough to get the information you need?

Authors note: Thank you for all the lovely comments and likes and reblogs💕❤️! I’ve been feeling kinda bleh recently so I apologize for it taking so long and I’m also sorry if it’s crap but I’m pretty happy with the story line (also there’s gonna be a follow up to this series for sure). Anyways hope y’all are keeping well and thank you for reading!!

Warnings: THIS STORY WILL BE 18+ starting next chapter (minors DNI) . For now it’s just swearing and allusions to abusive relationships

Word count: 5.7k

Tagged: @trash-dino-5000 @diogodxlot @agingerindenial

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You watch the moving trucks hired by the DEA to facilitate your luxurious, but imaginary lifestyle roll up the driveway one after the other. Each truck opened to reveal piece after piece of expensive furniture better suited to the silver screen than your real life adding to the dysphoria you'd been feeling over the past few days. You were now living and enjoying someone else's life, a fact that left an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Though the anxiety you were feeling was likely due to the very real threat of being murdered, and not the lavish home decor you were now in possession of. If there was one thing to be thankful for it was your close proximity to the water, you’d been landlocked for too long. Peace washes over you as you watch the water break against the cliff face. You turn towards the target's house gazing up to the balcony on the third floor. The doors are swung open and a woman in white stands with her arms outstretched on the railing, standing like a queen overseeing her kingdom. You were being watched. You lift your hand up to block out the sun, hoping to get a better look at her, but she's gone by the time you do.

Noticing the overwhelmed look plastered on your face as the trucks arrived Javier decided he would take on directing the movers. Only calling for your help when furniture needed to be placed, as interior design was admittedly not in his wheelhouse.

“You know where that goes?” Javi asks the movers, lighting up a cigarette and placing it between his lips. The movers nod as they lug the enormous mattress inside. He turns scanning the landscape to locate your whereabouts, you'd been all over the place this morning. Whether you were playing into the spacey artist trope or the pressure was finally getting to you he wasn’t really sure. Either way he wanted to make this transition as easy as possible for you, and considering you weren't a field agent it was also his responsibility to keep you safe. He spots you near the walkway that leads down to the ocean, a gentle breeze blows in from the beachfront causing the linen dress wrapped around you to part just above your thigh. There's a relaxed smile etched on your face, resulting in a calm that Javi had never witnessed emanating from you before.

An arm snakes around your waist and you lean into it for a moment before remembering who it belonged to causing your body to instinctively retract. You push back off his chest and watch as Peña shakes his head in quiet frustration before turning back towards the moving trucks. You chew your lip, you knew you had to do better at acting the part you’d been ordered to play. If you didn’t this mission would be over before it even started. Memorizing your alias was easy enough as was adopting the british accent, but acting in love with Peña. That was where it all fell apart, but if there was one thing you knew for sure it was that you did your best work under pressure. You swallow hard as the last few trucks slip away down the driveway. The notion of being left alone with Peña for the first time was an anxiety not even the ocean could sooth. With a deep breath you will your legs to move towards your new home which is currently looking more like a cell. You walk by Peña who snuffs out his cigarette in the dirt before following you inside.

“Why would two people ever need a house this big?” he asks, closing the door behind you, his voice bouncing off the marble walls.

“So they never have to see each other.” you offer, running your hand along the granite countertops.

“That felt targeted,” he says, watching your hands movement intently.

“It wasn’t, at least not intentionally. You notice how this whole back wall is glass? Weird design choice” you remark, trying to open up a civil dialogue with him.

“Probably built it so they can keep tabs on the neighbours” he offers coming up behind you, standing a little too close for comfort.

“Why build a house across from yours if you're trying to be undetected?” you ask, turning around nearly colliding with his chest, huffing at the inconvenience before maneuvering around him.

“If you were a federal agent and a big empty house was available for a stake out would you take it or would you go for the rocky beach or bug infested forest? Keep your enemies close, they expect the feds to show up here, so they make it easy to monitor” he explains, in a surprisingly uncondescending way.

“Hadn’t thought about that” you admit.

“Don’t teach you everything in those fancy buildings with ivory towers” he chuckles, as he sits down on one of the couches.

“Never claimed that they did” you retort “did they bring any food in?” you ask, moving towards the fridge.

“Not sure, figured the kitchen was your domain, can you bring me a beer” Javi says, the subtle misogyny fueling the rage simmering inside you.

“I’m sorry what exactly did your last servant die of?” You snap back.

“What? We’re supposed to keep up appearances” he responds calmly from the couch, feet crossed on the coffee table that cost more than your yearly rent.

“And what exactly is my appearance supposed to be? The domesticated housewife who brings you beer, cooks you dinner and sucks you off?” you respond, rage finally boiling over.

“Well I hadn't asked for that last one yet but...”

“Unbelievable! You can cook for yourself Peña. I'm not your wife and im definitely not your fucking mother”

“You certainly nag like her. Seriously a beer, it's not asking much” he demands.

“You know...” you say opening the fridge and pulling out a beer walking it over to him “I don't know if you’ve heard...” you continue, nudging his feet off the table with your calves as you place the beer down “of these amazing things...” you say, kneeling down, parting his legs and rising up between them, making eyes at him as you slowly run your hands up his thighs. “Called legs!” you state slapping your palms down on his thighs smiling as the growing smirk on his face quickly disappears “You should try using them sometime” you finish standing back up, grabbing the beer from the table and heading back into the kitchen to cook yourself, and only yourself, dinner. You'd managed to stay out of each other's hair for the rest of the evening, but another blowout ensued when it came to figuring out your sleeping situation.

“C'mon you don't have to be such a...” Javi exclaims calmly

“Such a what Peña?” you ask watching him bite his tongue “No please finish that sentence. I’d love to hear what thought provoking and truly innovative ideas you have about me.” You retort

“Just get in the bed” he pleads, lifting up the sheets and motioning his hand towards it.

“With you? I'd rather be shot” you state.

“Keep acting like this and your wish may just get granted sweetheart” he says through gritted teeth, the petulant show you were putting on wearing thin.

“Newsflash Peña! They can’t see us in here, so I think I'll take my chances on the couch” you assumed it was far enough away from the windows to keep you from prying eyes.

“Your fucking funeral” he shouts down the hall, watching you storm off with an armful of sleepwear you'd brought from home. The sleepwear was not flattering nor did it fit into the rich aesthetic you were currently upholding, but at this point, you didn't care. You'd chosen the oversized band shirt and basketball shorts because they hid your body away from prying eyes. Not that Peña would be looking, you hardly qualified as his type. You flop down on the couch rolling your eyes at the beer bottles he’d left there, likely for you to clean up. Irritated you fall asleep, cursing the couch for being inexplicably the most uncomfortable thing you'd ever had the misfortune of sitting on.

Your woken as the doorbell sounds throughout the house startling you so badly that you fall off the couch with a loud thud. “Shit!” you curse realizing it was likely the target. As quick as you can, you strip off your pyjamas and throw on the robe you had snatched in a hurry last night, only just realizing it was practically sheer. You yawn as you open the door to a beautiful woman who you immediately recognize as the target's wife, Helena. Presumably the same woman who you had seen on the balcony yesterday. She looked every bit a billionaire's wife with her hair neatly styled, 6 inch heels and perfect makeup while you, well you currently looked, and smelt, like you’d slept in a sewer.

“Hi im Helena, we saw you move in yesterday, we live next door.”

“We?” you ask squinting into the early morning light as another yawn escapes your lips

“Me and my husband” She says looking past you towards the couch where you had slept. Shit. Peña was not going to let you live that one down. Speaking of the devil, he appears from the bedroom in an open robe, and very thin linen pants, a look that made you realize why so many women were easily charmed by him.

“Cara mia, who's at the door?” he asks, eyes darting to the obviously slept in couch before settling on the beautiful woman standing before him. A woman who'd have his full attention if it wasn't for the transparent robe clumsily wrapped around your body.

“Our new neighbor” you say, refraining from using a cutesy nickname afraid you'd choke on it.

“Forgive my wife, she hasn’t been sleeping well” he says, coming over and wrapping himself around you, kissing the top of your head, before resting his chin on it.

“I find I sleep best when next to my husband” she responds offering Javi a megawatt smile which he returns.

“Maybe if your husband doesn't snore like an elephant” you respond sleepily with a soft laugh. You were surprised how well the british accent rolled off your tongue despite the early hour.

“Mine does as well, shakes the whole house! The things we put up with when we are truly in love are amazing” shes says, reigniting your anxiety “We want you to come for dinner, we've hired a chef” she continues.

“We’d love to, always good to know the neighbours, we like to make sure we're keeping good company” Javi reponds.

“Excellent, lets say, 7:30, be on time, my husband doesn't like to be kept waiting.” The second the door shuts you wiggle out from his grasp and make your way over to the kitchen pouring yourself, and only yourself, some coffee, still tired from the piss poor sleep you'd gotten last night. At least this time it wasn’t because you had to listen to someone having rigourous sex through the walls.

Javier follows close behind snatching the cup from your hands and taking a sip, knowing full well it wasn’t meant for him. He watches your eyes bulge slightly and your jaw tightens before you storm off into the bedroom to change out of the see through robe, much to his dismay.

“We need to go over the plan for tonight,” he says from the kitchen.

“Alright what is it?” you ask emerging in one of the many luxurious outfits provided to you.

“We’ll scout it out, find the room where they keep the paintings nd take the samples you need.”

“Ya” you say “and how exactly am I supposed to sneak in test tubes filled with liquid that traces drugs. ” you ask

“Bring a purse? I don't know. You're the genius you figure it out” he shrugs.

“I could wear a long skirt and strap them to my legs?”

“No they'll know you're hiding something,” he says, shooting down your idea.

“Purse it is then” you respond. “If they come back positive then what?”

“We can figure that out later, but i'll drop hints that the money I've made has been done in less than legal ways, and mention your outstanding knack for counterfeiting. Oh and wear something short tonight” he says “More to see means less to hide” he offers when he sees you glaring at him. “ and no scowling at me while we're in there, unless you really want to blow it” he laughs, your hatred for him almost comical at this point.

“What am I supposed to do when you're being insufferable then” you dig, with a wide fake smile.

“Save them up for later, besides it won't be me in there with you, it'll be my character, who you don’t hate.”

7:00pm

You change into a burgundy dress with an open back that falls well above your mid thigh, its length hardly covering you. You make a note not to bend over throughout the night, as you sling on the high heels that cost more than all your shoes combined. You grab the swabs and plastic bags needed to keep them sterile and stuff them into your purse before slipping on your wedding ring, and exiting into the kitchen.

“Alright, how do I look?” you ask, reopening the purse and re organizing the material inside it. When you finally look up you’re taken aback. Peña's usual attire of tight jeans and button up t shirt’s had been replaced by a stunning velvet pastel coloured jacket worn over top, a partially unbuttoned silk dress shirt and black dress pants. He cleaned up well, very well.

Your prolonged look doesn't go unnoticed by Javi, nor does the way your eyes quickly dart back down to your purse when he meets your gaze. He refrains from making a snarky comment knowing it would only piss you off, and that was the last thing he wanted to do before infiltrating a highly dangerous situation.

“Perfect, hermosa” he says, he wasn’t lying about it either. He knew you weren’t really listening to what he was saying, but god if you didn't look perfect tonight. Pretending to be in love with you would be easy enough for him, he hoped you’d be able to maintain the act as well. He watches as you move gracefully around him in heels that were working exceptionally well at emphasizing your... assets. He averts his eyes when you reach up for a bottle of wine knowing that more than you’d want him to see would be out.

“You know I can speak Spanish, right?” you say, a small smile creeping on your lips before quickly disappearing back into the cold facade you were determined to keep up against him.

“Well, I do now” he laughs, slightly embarrassed he got caught out complimenting you sincerely. He slides on his wedding band and escorts you out the door.

“God how do people walk in these for more than 15 mintues” you mutter, your feet already killing you. You almost regretted pushing Peñas arm away when he’d offered it to you earlier. Approaching the house you feel his hand wrap around your waist and you lean into him in an attempt to take some pressure off your feet. He rings the doorbell, lowering his hand as he hears the heels approaching from down the hall. Lifting up the hem of your dress he begins rubbing small circles over your thigh with his thumb. Any other time and you'd have broken his hand without a second though, but it fell well within the contract you’d had him sign detailing exactly where and when he was allowed to touch you.

“Welcome” Helena says as she opens the door in an equally revealing dress. She leads you through the enormous entrance way and into the main foyer, gazing up you see balconies on each level overlooking the large ballroom area. Your amazement at the house was cut short as you turned to see Peña who was currently only paying attention to Helena's fine architecture. If your eye rolls wouldn't give your true feeling for eachother away, his ogling certainly might. You elbow him harshly in ribs causing his hand to inadvertently dig deeper into your skin. His grip releases as Helena's husband enters into the room grabbing her and kissing her deeply for just long enough that both you and Javier feel uncomfortable.

“Welcome” he booms after separating from Helena, grasping Javis hand in his. You can see the veins in his arm bulge, as he clamps down on Peñas hand in a bizarre play for dominance.

“Here” you say offering him the wine, causing him to release his grip “Your home is as stunning as your wife” you smile as he looks down at the bottle reading its label.

“This one’s from a good year! Neither of our wives were even born then, lucky for us” he laughs, winking at you “We’ll have it with dinner.” he continues, pulling Javi into his side and walking him towards the bar.

Helena smiles at you and raises her eyebrows, rolling her eyes at her husband's behaviour. “Come now, alcohol will get us through the night” she states, leading you down the hallway. You knew her suspicions were high, and it wasn't lost on you that she’d likely shared her feelings with her husband, but she was being remarkably kind, which only added to your concern.

“Drink? What’s your poison, Carino?” Carlos demands of you. He was larger than life in both stature and personality, charming but in a terrifying way.

“I do believe he's talking to you love” you joke, smiling up at Javi earning a laugh from Helena.

“Whiskey, neat.” he says, you couldn't tell if Carlos was amused or upset by your disobedience, but the way Peña was currently pulling you discreetly out of Carlos’ reach made you think it was the latter.

“I usually don't ask twice, but for someone so beautiful and so clever, I'll make the exception. Though just his once” Javis grip around you relaxes and you flash Carlos a smile.

“Gin and tonic, if you don't mind”

“Any preference” he asks.

“Dealers choice”, you say, offering him back the control which seems to cut the tension and it's not long before he’s once again laughing with Javi.

“We're glad to have neighbours again '' Carlos says “especially ones who seem so agreeable.” His approval doesn’t relax you. Approval wasn’t trust and you’re well aware that this was just as much an interrogation as it was a dinner party. Carlos takes a seat in one of the upholstered armchairs gesturing for Javi to join him. Helena nods her head towards the couch and you follow her lead. Your eyes are quickly pulled off her when Peña yanks you down onto his lap.

“Darling!” you exclaim thanking the lord you didn't use his real name by mistake. “I could have spilled this very expensive drink all over this very expensive chair, I'm so sorry! I'd say he's not usually like this but...”

“I understand his need to have a beautiful woman in his arms as often as possible, it's why I'm on my fourth wife!” he boasts.

“I'm hoping i'll stick.” Helenea says, holding her drink up as she gazes lovingly over to Carlos, though something behind her eyes told another story. Perhaps you weren't the only one harbouring a secret hatred. “I'm hoping you’ll both stick as well. Neighbours can be problematic, nosy even, our last ones were before they...moved” Helena says from the couch

“Hard to imagine someone tiring from living in the house. It's beautiful, did you build it?” you ask

“Paid for it, but Helena designed it the whole thing, she's very gifted.” Carlos brags.

“I'd have to agree with that,” Javi says, smiling at her which she returns, a flirtation playing on both their faces. Javis hands may be on you but his eyes were on her and if you were picking up on it Carlos certainly had as well. You jump slightly when the server enters the room to inform the group that dinner was ready.

Javi pulls out a chair for you and you sit down placing your hand on his as he takes his seat next to you. The meal was the best you ever had, five delicious courses each one more decadent than the last.

“You don’t take her out to many five star restaurants? It seems as if she's never eaten such a meal!” Carlos excalims. Evidently you were doing a piss poor job at hiding your delight.

“I'm still getting used to the lifestyle if i’m honest. Though I imagine a meal such as this is still rare, even at the most expensive restaurants” you say before Javi can respond for you, the recovery impressing him slightly.

“You should have seen what she was eating before I met her, back when she was a starving artist” Javi says, as you bring a hand up to rub along the velvet jacket covering his broad shoulders.

“The billionaire and the starving artist, now I must know. How did you come to find each other?” Helena asks.

“My art dealer went to New York and brought back one of her paintings, it came with a photo and after seeing it I knew I had to have her, if she’d take me”

“And how did an old man like him convince a sweet young thing like you to marry him?” Carlos asks.

“No convincing needed, not when he sent thousands of my favourite flowers to my studio before showing up at the door himself. Any man willing to put that much time and money towards meeting me deserves a date. At least in my books and he’s continued to prove himself to me ever since.” You gaze up at him lovingly, so convincing that for a moment even he forgets you hate his guts.

“What are they? Her favorite flowers?” Helena probes, earning a grunt from Carlos presumably displeased with his wifes intrusiveness.

“Sunflowers. They're hard to find in New York, especially in the winter, I had to ship them from California.” Your gaze of faux adoration turns quickly to genuine surprise. How had he known what your favourite flowers were? It wasn't outlined in your character profile and you'd certainly never told him.

“I’ve seen the piece, its beautiful, your wifes very talented,”

“You should see her school portfolio, copies of works that were almost exact replicas of the originals. She possesses the talent of a hundred artists before her”

“You flatter me. Copying is a technique used to learn, but it's no measure of true artistry or creativity” you laugh. “When did you see my work, were you in New York?”

“Oh no I'm an art dealer myself, but I have people go to places for me. Your work was passed over my desk a few weeks ago.” Carlos explains.

“Perhaps I could paint you something then I would finally have a truly unbiased critic” You watch as Carlos slowly nods his head, contemplating your offer.

‘You’ll have to see our art collection, we have pieces here from all over the world” Helena says,

“How long have you been in the business?’ you ask, taking Carlos as a man who liked to show off

“longer than you've been alive” he says winking at you.

“Well I can only imagine what pieces you must have , you've proven to have exquisite taste, in all areas of life.” you smile eyes briefly darting to Helena.

“Helena show her the gallery would you, I wish to speak with my friend here in private”

“Will you be joining us later?” Helena asks, causing him to grunts out a yes before pulling Javi into another room to talk about god knows what. She leads you up to the second floor, each step you take causing a sharp pain to shoot down your foot’s arch.

“You get used to the heels, small price to pay for the lifestyle. Walking around in them in the house for a while helps.” she explains.

“Thank you” you say. “Somedays I dont think I'll ever really acclimatize to the lifestyle.” She leads you into a large room, greek style pillars run through the middle while art from around the world lines the walls. If the pieces were real this room was worth millions.

“How does your family feel about you living here? It must be hard them being so far away in England”

“I uhm...I... don’t have any.” You can feel her eyes boring into you assessing the answer you just gave her. “They passed, when I was 19” you continue turning to meet her gaze.

“I'm so sorry. To lose them so young must have been devastating, but I don't need to tell you that, do I” she says, shaking her head. You nod swallowing hard gazing back to the paintings. “Lucky he found you I suppose, and such a handsome man at that. Many billionaires are.... not.”

“Lucky for us both then” you say, moving along the wall “these painting are beautiful, I envy you being surrounded by such formidable pieces, and only a walk away”

“Yes'' she says, as if she doesn't care. She's watching you intently, trying to suss out where your loyalties lied, your lack of descriptive fondness for your husband suddenly seemed like a poor choice on your part. Before she can ask another question you hear Carlos yell out for her, the noise startling you both, so much so that her hand clamps down on your wrist.

“Duty calls” she says, composing herself and relaxing her grip on you.

“Should I come with you?” you ask, playing into the deer in headlights trope which seemed to have an effect on Helena.

“No, he asked for just me. I don't like to disobey him, he's not a kind man when not listened to.”

“Are you safe here” you ask.

“As long as I don’t cause trouble I should be.” she affirms.

“Well, you're welcome at ours, at any time. If anything happens, even if it doesn't you can stay with us. Heavens knows we have the room.” you say sincerely, the concern coming from you, not your character. Helana nods offering you a soft smile squeezing your hand before leaving the room.

“See how obedient she is, how compliant, she's perfect, don’t you think!” Carlos says

“Hard to argue with that,” Javi responds, giving her a once over.

“And beautiful yes, c'mon you are married not dead” he prompts when Javi doesn't respond immediately

“Very much so” he says, smiling at Helena before turning to Carlos who was intent on showing off his wife in the most demeaning way possible.

“Was there something you needed love?” Helena asked. She was used to her husbands showing her off to other men, but she was growing tired of it. She was involved in her husband's work, primarily in the organization making sure everything ran smoothly, she knew if it didn't she would inevitably be to blame. She valued her life, so she learnt fast, adapted like a pro. Four years later and her husband hadn’t offed her yet. She was a mastermind in a career she had been inadvertently forced into, but a mastermind nonetheless. To her husband she was nothing more than a trophy, but better to be that than a punching bag.

“A word in private” he says, gesturing to her with a come hither motion.

“Your wifes in the art room, up the stair, down the hall to the left, take the drink with you, we won't be a moment” He says, his eyes telling Javi to vacate the room. He lets out a grumble as he closes the door behind him. He shakes his head, swirling the whiskey as he walks towards the gallery. He’d fumbled tonight by not making it clear that he only had eyes for his wife, a hard task considering Helena, who he realized too late was likely meant to see if his gaze could be easily swayed. Which it had. All thoughts about any other woman cease to exist when he walks into the gallery and sees you bent over swabbing a painting. Something about watching you in your element had always been mesmerizing to him. It’s why he was always dropping off files for you, the task could easily be outsourced, but he enjoyed watching you maneuver with ease around the various machines.

“You should be more careful querida,” he says, chuckling as you jump back.

“Watch the door, would you? I've got two more to do” he leans back against the frame, one eye on the door, one eye on you watching as you meticulously swab the remaining paintings. “All good, you don’t think they keep cameras in here?” you ask, closing up your purse.

“No. Cameras are easy to hack.” he says nonchalantly, as he comes over to you stopping at your side looking up at the painting, suddenly understanding people's fascination with art. You grab the drink from his hand and take a sip placing it back down on the empty pedestal propping yourself up along with it when you hear footsteps approaching.

“Come here” you demand, and he does, eyes suddenly darker than before. He stops a few inches in front of you. “Closer” you beckon, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him into you. You drape your arms around his shoulder extending your neck allowing his mouth to graze lightly over the skin just in time for Helena and Carlos to witness it. You push him off you in pretend shock.

“Please, don’t stop on our account” Carlos laughs

“I'm sorry, god these pieces must be worth thousands and here I am sitting on one” you say hoping the act wasn’t too transparent.

“Don’t apologize, a work of art belongs on a pedestal” Carlos says, the complementing causing Javis jaw to noticeably clench. He was a better actor than you gave him credit for, maybe they would buy this relationship after all.

“We should probably be going, once she starts it's hard to get her to stop,” Javi says.

“So that’s how she trapped you” the husband responds, the entire exchange causing you to cringe internally. You hop down off the stool as Javi finishes the whiskey offering the glass to Helena who takes it before leading you towards the front door.

“We must do this again soon,” she says settling into Carlos’ arm

“Perhaps at ours next time?” You offer

“A generous offer, but we prefer to entertain.” He says

“Then I look forward to seeing you soon, especially if another meal like that is in store” As you exit the mansion Javi makes sure his hand is visibly running over your body, but you slap it away the second you can.

“Ouch” he says, shaking out the hand, the rings on your fingers leaving a particular sting on his skin.

“Suck it up” you respond, having had enough of him for the night.

“Cut the shit, your attitude problem is going to get us killed” he whispers through gritted teeth.

“I don’t have an attitude problem. I just have a problem with you” You say, turning to face him and prodding a finger into his chest “ and don’t act like you ogling his wife was helping our case either. Ya I slipped up tonight, but so did you, so shoulder some of the blame you’re throwing my way.”

“Jealousy’s a nice colour on you” he laughs, knowing how riled up it would get you.

“Ha!” you fake laugh “ because it's jealousy and not the fact that your inability to keep it in your pants is going to get me killed.” You exclaim as you enter the kitchen grabbing down a glass and chugging some water before going into the art room where you were storing the testing kits.

You? Jealous? Of what exactly. What did he think he had to offer that would make you want or need to be the subject of his attention. Attention he gave to anything that walked or batted its eyelashes at him. Jesus he was insufferable, you hated that he had this notion that your anger was based on jealousy and not multiple interactions where he'd failed to impress you. Even if you had come off as jealous it was all a part of the act. He had been acting jealous throughout the night, did he think you weren't competent enough to do the same? You had three degrees for fucks sake, you deserve some credit. “Fucking asshole” you mutter, the manifestation of the words helping you to calm down enough to dip the q tips in the liquid, sure enough, they came back positive the paintings had been near drugs, you’d tell Peña about that later. You see the light on in the bedroom as you exit the “art room” and you head towards it determined to get one last punch in before going to bed.

Javier had just settled into the enormous bed he had the luxury of having all to himself, moments away from flicking the light switch when he notices your figure in the door frame.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asks

“I think he's abusive, the husband you were getting along with so nicely” you spit out, the venom intended to question his character in a hurtful way, but it doesn't seem to phase him.

“It's the job to get friendly with the monsters, doesn't mean I like them” he reasons

“I told her she could come here if anything happened, so we’ll have to hide this stuff a bit better” you remark, turning your failed attempt to get one last dig in, into a valid reason for starting up a conversation.

“Guess you'll have to stop sleeping on the couch then” he smirks. Check mate. Your eyes bore into the bed you had just talked yourself into sharing with Javier Peña.

#javi x y/n #javier pena x reader #javi x you #javi x reader #javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x y/n #narcos fanfic #narcos #enemies to lovers

[starlixghts]

!Yandere! Jungkook

Warnings: IF you are sensitive to Yandere behavior, this is not the story for you. Small hints at sexual behavior towards the end.

Disclaimer: This is for fictional purposes, this is not an accurate portrayal of BTS.

Sleepless Nights

The idea of a sleepless night wasn't exactly foreign to you. In fact, you would always be awake, anxiously thinking a variety of thoughts at two in the morning. However, the slightest of sound or movement from your boyfriend would cause you to hault and quickly shut your eyes immediately.

You looked at his calm, resting face and silently sighed to yourself. How could people look so young, and innocent while they were asleep? Jungkook was the last person you thought would look even remotely look innocent. But when he was asleep, something about him was different. So, you stared at him for an eternity.

You wished he'd always be like that.

You quickly threw the blanket off your body, but made sure he was covered. You inhaled his scent, begining to move little by little. It took long enough to wiggle out of his grip. Finally, you stood up and stretched before fixing your pyjama shorts and walking out of the bedroom.

You made your way to the balcony. The night was completely silent. The only source of light available was the stars and moon, and a bright lamp, lit up two floors down, in front of Jungkook's mansion.

It was also colder than usual. You shivered, feeling a heavy breeze push your hair back. But you could care less. The smell of peace and the feeling of being free was something you deeply craved. Dating Jungkook meant you could have none of those things. You closed your eyes and placed your hands on the wall at the edge of the balcony. It felt nice.

"Y/N?" someone called out from behind you. Immediately, you froze. Your face grew pale and your heart began to race. You bit your lip anxiously and mentally cursed at yourself. Ignoring the sounds of your heartbeat, you slowly turned around.

Your eyes met the sleepy, confused eyes of your boyfriend. His dark brown hair was slighlty messy and his cheeks were flushed, pink. He raised an eyebrow, urging you to give an explanation. You cleared your throat. "I-I just needed fresh air, I'll come back now,"

Slowly, Jungkook stalked towards you. Your back was against the wall, and he leaned down placing his hands on the sides of your body. The closer he brought his face, the further you leaned back. You looked down, your stomach dropping, as you noticed how far up you were from the ground.

"Did I give you permission to get up?" Jungkook asked, causing you to quickly look back at him. You nodded frantically, fear filing your body. "Speak baby,"

"N-no, you d-didn't," You stuttered.

"Are you scared?" he asked, in an almost mocking way. His voice was calm, but sass was hidden behind it. You hated it when Jungkook was calm, it only meant there was a storm soon to come. "I don't want you to fear me baby, it hurts when you do,"

"I'm sorry,"

You squinted, looking at his face, trying to decipher any emotion hidden behind his mask. There was no way he meant that apology. Something your boyfriend NEVER did was apologize. To him, in your relationship, he was right, and you were wrong.

You got nervous once again, so you looked to the side, avoiding eye contact. (something else he hated) Harshly, he gripped your jaw, alarming you slightly, and turned your face towards him. He was so close, you could feel his breath. "Aren't you going to accept my apology baby?"

You wondered why he was acting like this. Maybe there was a change of heart? No. Jungkook was never this sweet, especially when you disobeyed him. You spoke, softly: "It's okay,"

His grip on your jaw tightened and a deep chuckle left his lips. The first strike came. It wasn't too hard, but it was it was hard enought to leave a stining on your cheek. "Did you actually think I was sorry?"

You nodded. No.

"Ahh, you know me so well," he laughed again, jerking forward to scare you. "I love it when you fear me. It gives me the best feeling in the world. Always fear me Y/N, you still don't know what I'm capable of,"

Your body was shaking at this point.

"Don't think I haven't notcied that you aren't sleeping these nights. Everytime you are awake, I've known. I took it lightly, thinking it was just you being moody, but this is not okay. You are to stay next to me at all time when I am asleep. Understood?"

You shook your head up and down, indicating that you understood what he was saying. Fear was a POWERFUL motivator.

"Good. But I need to teach you a lesson. You're fine with sleepless nights, right? Oh, you'll have one today, I'll make sure to drain you of all your energy so you never have to stay awake. Ready darling?"

Dead ^

#yandere kpop #bts #bts reaction #bts yandere reactions #bts yandere #bts yandere au #yandere bts #yandere x reader #yandere #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook #yandere jungkook #jungkook yandere #bts imagines #yandere bts x reader #bts x you #bts x reader #bangtansonyeodan #park jimin #kim taehyung

[jovialyouthmusic]

Lovelink Fanfic

Albert continues to make an impression on his Lovelink Match

Word Count 2395

A/N A smutty chapter, so No under 18s Otherwise, it also has fluff. If you like it let me know and I’ll tag you in the following chapters

4 Better and Better

As promised, I spent my day cleaning and tidying, hoping that Albert wouldn’t be kept too long by his family. I kept getting flashbacks of the previous night, and would have to stop what I was doing and let myself cool off. At two o’clock the doorbell rang and I ran to it, hoping he was back, although I knew it was far too early. I looked through the peephole to be confronted by a riot of colour, and opened the door to find a delivery boy almost dwarfed by a huge flower arrangement.

‘Special delivery Ma’am’ he wheezed. My front door was accessed from the suburban street by stone steps, but I didn’t think they were enough to challenge anyone with a normal level of fitness.

‘Thankyou – are you okay?’ I asked. He sneezed.

‘Allergies’ he grumbled ‘I hate delivering flowers’ I stared at him.

‘Then maybe you shouldn’t?’ I suggested. He laughed hollowly.

‘Can’t turn down work nowadays. Anyway, here they are’ He handed them over and almost ran back down the steps to his van, sneezing violently. I wrestled the blooms inside and took them through to the kitchen. The card read Looking forward to rushing your position. Prepare for action I laughed, my cheeks flushing. My phone pinged with a text message.

Did you just get a delivery?

Yes, thanks. They’re beautiful

So are you. Need to compare

Then hurry back, soldier

Yes Ma’am. Will text you when I set off

I smiled fondly and put the flowers in water and displayed them in my lounge by the window that looked out onto the little patch of grass at the front of the building. The rest of the afternoon flew by as I threw myself into the task of transforming my small apartment. I was amazed at how good the place looked, and wondered why I hadn’t made the effort before. Well, I reasoned, I hadn’t had Albert over before. I knew he kept his kit in good order and didn’t want him to think I was a lazy slob. At last my phone pinged. He’d told me he’d be eating with family and wouldn’t need anything, so that left the evening free for…

On my way Ma’am

Hurry back

Nothing will stop me

Safe journey

I showered and washed and dried my hair, deciding on another slip under my robe. When the doorbell rang I paused for just a second to check my hair before flinging the door open. I was in his arms instantly and he swung me inside, kicking the door shut, pushing me against the wall and pressing his lips to mine. We kissed frantically, and I pushed and pulled at his clothes until I found bare flesh. His hands went from my face to my breasts to my hips, finding the gap in my robe and fumbling for the hem of my slip. He stopped for a moment, breathing heavily.

‘How are you after last night? He asked ‘Not too sore?’

‘I’m ready for action, soldier’ I grinned. He grunted with satisfaction and went back to the job in hand, exploring my body thoroughly, pushing the silky fabric aside, hitching up my slip.

‘I like the way you dress, Ma’am’ His hands slid around to cup my buttocks, and he groaned in appreciation ‘No panties?’ he marvelled ‘Fuck’

‘Yes please’ I panted, and pivoted as he struggled out of his jacket and kicked off his shoes. We stumbled along the hall toward the bedroom, shedding his clothes as we went, kissing, touching, gasping. We stopped just short of the door, where he slid his hands underneath my hips to lift me up, and I wrapped my legs around him, feeling his obvious arousal and pressing myself against it. He still had his shirt on, buttons undone, and he’d dropped and stepped out of his pants and briefs. He reached for the bedroom door handle.

‘You said you’d ravish me in the hall’ I gasped, unwrapping my legs and letting myself down.

‘I did – but I don’t have any protection’ I reached into the pocket of my robe and  produced a condom. He chuckled

‘You thought of everything’

‘I had plenty of time’ He fumbled the packet open and rolled the rubber over his length before kissing me. Again I wrapped my legs around his waist, but this time we manoeuvred together until he started to stretch and enter me.

‘Oh shit’ I gasped as he buried himself deeper and deeper. Up to the hilt, he grunted and leaned into me, letting his forehead rest on my shoulder, and we stayed still for a moment, relishing the feeling of being joined again. His breath was hot on my shoulder and I could feel the wild beating of his heart. He withdrew slowly, and just as slowly slid back in. I moaned in ecstasy, clinging on tight and pulling him against me with my legs. He started up a slow rhythm, pausing from time to time for me to squirm and urge him on.

‘Fuck, you feel good’ he groaned ‘I don’t ever want to stop’ I arched my back against the wall and pushed my pelvis against him, my clitoris grinding against him. I whimpered with need and he started again, each thrust solid and steady. I could feel him trembling with the effort so I tilted my pelvis in time with his thrusts until I could almost see stars and felt the sweet build up of my climax begin.

‘I – oh fuck. I’m close’ I gasped. He let out a great groan, his thrusts losing rhythm, but it wasn’t enough to prevent what was happening deep inside me. The sweet rush of warmth and pulsing blossomed and built and ebbed and radiated outward. I was vaguely aware of his last few thrusts and groans and shudders, and at last we were still, hearts hammering and breath rasping, slowing.

He braced one hand against the wall and carefully withdrew, making sure the condom was safe and secure. I unwrapped my legs from him and slowly lowered them to the ground, trembling and shaking, arms still wrapped around his broad shoulders until I could support myself. I slid down the wall and he followed me to the floor, kneeling to get his breath back. We sat, me against the wall with my knees drawn up, he beside me angled toward me, stroking my cheek. I turned my head toward him, and he pulled back and kissed me, a sweet lingering kiss on the lips. I could smell his musk and my own sweat and didn’t care.

‘Damn that was good’ he murmured ‘Worth waiting for. We’d better go clean up’ He rummaged in his discarded trousers to get a pack of tissues out and carefully take off the spent condom before giving me his hand and helping me up. We made our way to the bathroom and stepped into the shower together, not resisting the temptation to make out in the tiny cubicle but stepping out and towelling off before we got carried away.

‘How was your Mum?’ I asked . He grinned sheepishly

‘I managed to keep things vague when she asked where I was going’ he replied ‘She could tell I was hiding something, but she didn’t pry.’ He held my gaze ‘I just want you for myself for a bit longer’ he explained, and I nodded.

‘Me too. How were your Dad and brothers?’

‘They were out on the trawler so I’m afraid I’ll be away tomorrow evening’ he grimaced ‘They like to take me out on the town when I get back, so I’ll probably have to stop overnight’

‘Oh’ I said ‘But family’s important’

‘So’s the state of my liver. I’ve hardly drunk anything for weeks, I’m a bit of a lightweight right now’

‘You’ll have to pace yourself’ I suggested ‘Drink plenty of water’

‘Believe me, the last thing I want this week is a hangover. I want to spend as much quality time with you as I can. I may only have six months of service left, but I don’t know where I’ll end up or for how long.’

It wasn’t late, so Albert dressed in jeans and t shirt and I put some cotton pyjamas on. I got him a beer from the fridge, opening a bottle of wine for myself and suggested we watch TV together.

‘What sort of thing do you want to watch?’ I asked

‘Nothing too graphic’ he said ‘I’ve been lucky not to have seen much action, but I like to watch more restful stuff when I’m off base.’

‘Right, how about a rom com or period drama – something you’ve seen before, or something new? Anything you’re waiting to catch up with?’

‘I’d like nothing better than watching something soft and sloppy with you’ he grinned ‘You choose’

‘I’ve not watched Bridget Jones for a while, how about that?’

‘Sure thing Ma’am’ We settled down on the couch, and I nestled into him, knees drawn up and wine glass in hand. He drank his beer straight from the bottle, and we sat quietly watching for a while.

‘Are you hungry?’ I asked ‘I know you said you were eating early, but I can get something if you like. I don’t really do TV snacks. I’d be the size of a bus if I did’

‘I like curvy women’ he teased, squeezing my waist. ‘But I’m fine, we had a big lunch’

‘What was the catering like when you were working?’ I asked

‘Nothing special, standard rations’ he replied ‘It’s nice to be able to pick what I eat and have home cooked food’

‘You were escorting some bigwig weren’t you?’ I asked ‘Didn’t you get to go to any banquets?’ He laughed

‘I’m not at liberty to give you any details, but no. Military escorts have their own supplies. It wouldn’t do if our VIP got sick from food poisoning and we came down with it too’

‘Huh, hadn’t thought of that’ We went back to watching, and before long I found myself yawning.

‘Time to turn in’ Albert said, and pulled at my pyjama top ‘Are you keeping those jammies on to stop me from having my way with you?’

‘They’re easily taken off – and why wouldn’t I want you to ravish me again?’ I sat up and turned around, straddling him and pinning him to the couch ‘Or it might be me taking advantage of you’

‘Take all the advantage you want. Ma’am, I’m all yours’

‘You bet you are, soldier’ I said, and leaned forward to kiss him passionately.

-------

I woke with the dawn, luckily without any nightmares or flashbacks. I knew instantly where I was, with the warmth of my angel nestled up beside me. Her face was peaceful, innocent, and her hair draped softly onto my shoulder. I had pins and needles from having my arm around her shoulders but daren’t wake her, so I lay listening to her breathe, enduring as my hand went numb.

My mind went back to the previous evening, when she had pinned me down on the couch and kissed me hungrily. Despite her yawning only a few moments before she was eager to make love, disappearing for a moment to fetch a condom before standing in front of me to strip naked. I sat watching her, my arousal increasing as she straddled me again. I lay back, letting her lead, only resting my hands on her hips as she unfastened my jeans. Before long I was exposed and ready for action, and I groaned as her cool fingers wrapped around my shaft. She backed up to lean down and press her tongue to it.

Being thick, it was a bit of a mouthful for her, but she did a good job at getting me fired up before rolling the condom onto it. She straddled me again, slowly sinking on to me as I gazed at her beautiful breasts. I couldn’t help but touch them, watching her nipples harden and leaning forward to take one golden areola into my mouth, teasing with my tongue. She moaned and gyrated, her wet velvety softness enveloping me. She rode me relentlessly, and I found it difficult to hold back for her climax, but we came together – a feat I had rarely managed with other partners, but which we achieved easily. After that she had climbed back off me and we cleaned up before making our way to bed where we both swiftly fell asleep.

Now, she took a sudden intake of breath and her eyelids flickered. I watched as they opened and a slow smile spread over her face.

‘Morning, beautiful’ I said softly

‘Morning soldier’ she answered back sleepily. I retrieved my arm and shook it to get the circulation going ‘Oh did I do that? Sorry’ she asked.

‘I’d rather wake every morning the rest of my life with a dead arm if you’re with me’ I kissed her cheek. She lay gazing at me, and I drank in the sight of her too.

‘What shall we do today? When are you going to meet your Dad?’ she asked. I sighed, remembering my time was still not my own. I loved my family, but I wanted most of all to stay with her.

‘Not till late afternoon, so I’m all yours until then’ I stroked her hair, drinking in the scent and sight of her like an intoxicating drug. ‘I’d be very happy just to stay in bed with, but I think perhaps we should get some exercise – some other kind of exercise’

‘Damn, I thought I could catch you out there’ she smiled ‘That’s probably a good idea. I’m a little sore this morning but I can’t help but want to go another round’

‘Have you forgotten there are ways of having an orgasm without penetration? I seem to remember you quite enjoyed it first time round’ I referred to when I had arrived the day before yesterday, when I had used my lips and tongue and fingers to bring her to her first wild (and noisy) climax. If my hair had been long enough for her to pull, I thought to myself, I’d probably have lost a patch or two.

‘Ohhhh soldier’ she purred ‘I think you might have to remind me.’

@kittidot @bobasheebaby @jaxsmutsuo @ramseyswifey @otakufangirl-12​ @mostly-tessaandscott @aestheticallypleasing5sos @sunflowy @celiamcg @basicallysailormars @fabi-en-ciel @rdjcoldplay @cyn-onlyyou @american-satanxx @exxtrastout @callmeluna7 @theclowneryqueen​ @speedyoperarascalparty @katedrakeohd

#lovelink #lovelink fanfic #albert bishop #soldier match

[padfootagain]

Girl Crush (V)

Chapter 5: A Touch Of Hibiscus

 Here we go again!! New chapter! Cuteness, cuteness, so much cuteness I am melting myself, this is disgustingly sweet!! But then, you're reading the Queen of Fluff, so you should have known better ;)

I hope you like this new chapter! Please, tell me what you think about it!

Word Count: 3648

Jamaica.

Of all the places in the word, Harry had decided to go to Jamaica to write his new album.

It meant that once again, he was away, and you still missed having your best friend around.

Best friend. It sounded strange to some extent, the title was newly found, but it was true though. You knew everything about him, he knew everything about you. And it felt so nice to trust someone so completely, it felt new too. It was comforting, to have someone like Harry by your side, even if he was thousandth of miles away most of the time.

But him working in Jamaica had a few good sides too. Namely, the fact that by sleeping in the house where he was staying, you could plan a trip to Jamaica, where you would have probably never travelled to if it wasn't for him.

Harry was ecstatic at the idea of seeing you. He went to pick you up at the airport, and gave you the biggest hug you had ever received.

You spent some time with his band, with his 'dream team' as you liked to call them. It was all a lot of fun, and for the five days you stayed there, you had the time of your life.

You barely slept, there was no time to lose for that. Between parties, and watching rom coms with Harry, lazily lie down in the sun on the beach, swimming across coral reefs and surfing, there wasn't enough time to spend resting.

But the best part of these vacations, you found out, wasn't even the scenery or the amazing activities you had been sporting for the past few days. It was the fact that you were doing all these with Harry. You had missed spending so much time with him, and it was never more obvious than now that you had him by your side again.

You found everything more endearing because he was there. Your cheeks hurt because of how much you were smiling. It seemed that a laugh was always there, like a tingling in your belly, ready to pass your lips to bloom.

You loved getting tipsy with Harry, until he was drunk enough to be all sleepy and cuddly when he would rest his head upon your shoulder and close his eyes.

You loved watching TV with him, in your pyjamas and under warm blankets while eating your favourite cookies – that Harry had all the time, you noticed, and couldn't help but figure that he had bought them for you and made a point to replenish his stock after every quiet evening you spent together eating them.

You loved lying on the warm sand by his side, talking for hours or simply lying in silence, listening to the waves.

Swimming across coral reefs had always been a dream of yours, and you had to admit that doing it with Harry had made it all only better, because you were watching all these colours, all this life, with him.

And you loved the way he tried to push you off your board as you surfed together, and how you floated together in the ocean waiting for a wave.

Maybe you enjoyed it a little too much. These days the thought kept on crossing your mind. Sometimes you wondered if you were crossing a line.

Harry was your best friend, but the line between friendship and romance was less clear than you had thought.

Sometimes your heart beat a little too fast, you laughed too hard, you missed him too much, you dreamt about him too often. You couldn't really face whatever it was that you were feeling though.

Several reasons kept you from facing the truth: because Harry was just getting back to his feet after his break-up. Because your lives were so different and often happening with so much distance between them. Because you were terrified at the idea of feeling this way for your best friend. Because you didn't think that he would ever see you that way.

Even now, as you listened to Mitch and Jeff singing to Nirvana with Harry making margaritas, you pushed the thought away. It was karaoke night in the mansion Harry and his friends had rented, and you were having quite a laugh so far. Mainly because you had dodged the performing part till then.

It was nothing, you had just missed your best friend too much, that was all. You were reading too much into your own feelings, right?

The music waned, and all of you cheered for the singers, while Harry was bringing the drinks.

He was a little tipsy already, which only made him smile more. His hair was starting to grow a little more from his work for Christopher Nolan, and he was sporting a Hawaiian shirt and some large shorts. You loved this relaxed, casual style on him. He looked happy.

"Thank God I'm the singer around here, Jeffrey!" Harry laughed at his friend, who answered by making a face, but laughed anyway.

"Well, if you're so bloody good, then it's your turn!" his manager replied, accepting one of Harry's drinks.

"Sure! But only if Y/N joins me."

"Oh no, no, no, no!" you shook your head. "I pass on that one, karaoke is not for me."

"What?! Who doesn't like Karaoke?!" Harry asked back, stunned and a frowning mess.

"I don't dislike Karaoke," you defended yourself. "But as Jeff here pointed out, you're a bloody professional at this! And I can't sing!"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Don't be so bloody dramatic! We're just having a laugh. Don't worry about it. We're just having some fun. Come on, sing with me."

He grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the sofa.

"Please," he pouted, and you hated him for it. How on Earth could you say no to him when he was pouting like that? "You can choose the song, I'll sing whatever you like!"

"I hate you."

"We both know that ain't true though, darling."

You huffed in response, trying to ignore the fact that he had just called you darling, in that terribly adorable accent of his, and stood behind the mic despite your sudden discomfort.

"What's your favourite song?" Harry asked. "We'll sing your favourite song."

"Girl Crush."

"What?"

"Girl Crush. My favourite song is Girl Crush."

"It's country, I think. Or something like that," Mitch indicated, and Harry seemed to remember then.

"It's a slow song, right?" he seemed to think hard, taking a sip at his cocktail.

"Yeah. But it's still my favourite song… At the moment, at least. Not good enough for a karaoke with you?"

He rolled his eyes.

"I told you we'd sing your favourite song, and we will!"

He looked for the song through the karaoke machine, and was all proud of himself when the first strings of guitar echoed through the room and the lyrics appeared on the screen.

And you realized then that you had never really heard him sing.

You had joked around imitating silly voices in his car before. You had heard him sing on his records. But you had never actually heard him sing seriously before.

And your poor little heart was not ready to take it.

You merely stared at him, with a dreamy smile on your face.

It was soft and reassuring, his voice like a balm you could place on your heart to heal all the cracks it had suffered from. And for the first verses, you even forgot that you were supposed to sing with him, or that it was a karaoke for the matter. You were aware only of Harry singing a song you loved, the rest of the room, of the world even, had vanished. You were grinning like an idiot, and you didn't even notice.

It was only when Harry turned to you with a questioning look on his face that you tore yourself out of your reverie, and realized that you were supposed to be singing too, so you joined him for the chorus.

I want to taste her lips

Yeah, 'cause they taste like you

I want to drown myself

In a bottle of her perfume

You had been a terrible liar and he would tease you for it. Your voice was lovely. Perhaps not as powerful as his, but it made him smile and he didn't really know why. Your eyes locked and you both giggled over the next verse, but none of you really cared.

I want her long blonde hair

I want her magic touch

Yeah, 'cause maybe then

You'd want me just as much

You were surprised when Harry dropped the microphone in his hand to reach for you instead, and you could only giggle when he made you twirl.

I don't get no sleep

I don't get no peace

You abandoned your mic as well, both of you laughing and grinning and missing some of the lyrics as you weren't looking at the screen anymore, but none of you cared. The rest of your friends were clapping to the rhythm and laughing too, singing along at some bits, but you didn't notice any of it. You were staring at Harry's eyes instead, and he was smiling so brightly because of you, his cheeks were almost sore.

Thinking about her

Under your bed sheets

The way that she's whispering

The way that she's pulling you in

You danced together across the room, and if Harry left a respectful distance between your two bodies, it didn't mean that you weren't inches from each other, with one of his arms on your back and spinning across the living room hand in hand. When he made you twirl again, he caught you perfectly, and your hand naturally found back its rightful place on his shoulder, as if it was meant to rest there.

As you stared into Harry's green gaze you knew that Girl Crush would always remain your favourite song from now on, you had no doubt about that.

Lord knows I've tried,

I can't get her off my mind

He made a dramatic face that made you double with laughter and miss the beginning of the chorus, and you shook your head at him in the most adorable way. He was such a goofball…

You quenched the butterflies in your stomach and forced your racing heart to slow down.

It didn't mean a thing, it was just… your best friend, standing in front of you and being silly to make you laugh, and dancing with you…

I want to taste her lips

Yeah, 'cause they taste like you

It was just Harry, just your best friend holding you and making you dance across the room, and singing so lovingly whenever his eyes met yours, as if then he meant to really speak the words to you…

I want to drown myself

In a bottle of her perfume

… But then he was a singer, he was good at that, right? He was even an actor now. It was just part of performing, the professional singer transpiring through your friend. It didn't mean a thing…

I want her long blonde hair

I want her magic touch

…It would never mean a thing and you'd better get that in your silly head as soon as possible, if you didn't want to make the same mistake as Icarus. It was never good to fly too close to a sun. You always ended up falling before you could even reach it.

It didn't mean a thing. It was just your best friend.

Yeah, 'cause maybe then

You'd want me just as much

Just your best friend…

The stars were bright above the ocean, a sea of shimmering glows trapped across a velvety canvas. There was a soft breeze blowing, making ripples on the calm waves, and clearing your head from Harry's margaritas.

You shivered, rubbing your naked arms but had no intentions in going back in just yet.

One song had turned into five songs and by now your throat was sore, you had no regret though. By the end of the evening, everybody was screaming at the same songs, at one point Harry had found himself jumping on the couch while Jeffrey and Mitch were laughing too much to breathe and you tried to make Harry fall on the cushions… you smiled at the memory, it encapsulated the spirit of the whole evening quite well.

You were startled at the feeling of soft fabric on your arms and shoulders, but relaxed as soon as you recognized Harry's scent captured in the jacket he was placing on your shivering frame.

"You alright?" Harry asked, joining you on the large balcony, leaning against the bannister by your side.

"Sure. Just needed a bit of fresh air."

"Well, I could see you shaking from the living room, I do think the air is fresh enough for you."

You playfully nudged his arm, laughing. Silence settled between the two of you, and for a while you thought that this moment was going to be one of the quiet ones, the ones where seconds and minutes flew by and you didn't say anything to each other, simply enjoying whatever was around you and being together to witness it. But Harry tore the cloth silence had wrapped around the two of you with a question he didn't want to ask, and that you dreaded as well.

"When is your flight tomorrow?"

Your hands tightened around your own skin.

"4 pm."

He nodded, taking a deep breath before speaking again.

"Thank you for coming this week. It was great. I needed a break from spending my days and nights in the studio."

"Thank you for inviting me here. It was amazing."

"We've barely spoken about your work…"

"It's fine. I don't want to talk about it, to be honest. Tonight is… it's nice."

"Yeah… uhm… it is nice."

"We haven't talked about your break-up either."

He shrugged.

"I'm feeling better. Thinking less about her. Missing her less."

"But?"

He was about to fight back with a 'there's no but', and he would have with anyone else. With you, however, he knew it was useless to pretend that everything was fine. You had a special talent to read through him as if he were an open book displayed for the sole purpose of revealing all its deepest secrets to your eyes.

He had quit fighting a long time ago.

"I'm… not so confident about everything else," he let out in an unsteady whisper, the words mumbled more than spoken.

"What do you mean? About the album?"

He nodded.

"Maybe I can't do it on my own."

"Don't say that. That's not true."

He shrugged.

"We haven't written anything good in two weeks."

"Well, I've been wasting all your time for a week, so that's not as bad as it sounds."

He rolled his eyes, but a smile was tugging at his lips again.

"I miss the boys," he admitted, resting his forearms on the metal of the bannister, his body half-turned towards you and towards the dark ocean ahead. "I miss having them around. I miss having more people to help me write. I miss the whole craziness of it. I miss… I miss asking for help. And I guess… Before that I could always push a part of the blame on a 'collegial decision' if things went ill. I can't do that anymore. Because I'm the one taking all the wrong decisions, and I write all the songs, and if something is shit, it's because I made something shitty. I… craved for it. I craved for finding my own voice, and for writing on my own, and for not having my entire life decided as a vote. But I lack the backbone to do it, I think. I lack the… the training for it. Ever since I was 16, when I moved out of my mom's place, every decision I've made was taken as part of a group, and I've found out… I'm not sure I know how to take decisions on my own now."

He fell silent, and you weren't sure if it was because his voice had broken our because he had said all he meant to say.

And at first you didn't know what to say. How were you supposed to comfort him now? He seemed fragile, lost, aching, and all you wanted to do was wrap your arms around him and tell him that things would be alright.

So, you did just that.

He didn't seem to be expected the gesture either, but he reciprocated the hug as soon as your arms closed around him.

"It's gonna be okay, Harry," you breathed your words of reassurance in his ear, voice so soothing and soft that it made him close his eyes at the sound. "You're gonna be okay. Everything is gonna be okay."

He buried his face in your hair, breathing the scent of your shampoo until his senses were numb.

"You're so talented, Harry," you went on. "It's scary to be on your own, I get that. But you're going to make an amazing album. As long as you make the music that you want to hear, the music that feels right for you to sing, then you're gonna be alright. And you're not alone, you have a team with you. You have friends and a family who support you. You have me."

He tightened his hold on you then, and you were almost certain that he was crying.

"Maybe it's scary, but perhaps it's a good kind of scary too. And that feeling you had of not taking the decisions, or to have more responsibilities… I reckon that everyone goes through that at one point. It's part of growing up. It doesn't mean that you have to face everything on your own though. It only means that you get to do what you want to do, instead of what everyone else wants to do. That doesn't sound so bad, does it?"

He shook his head, but didn't answer.

"As long as you make the music that you feel proud of, and that you feel passionate about… as long as you make music that you love, then no one can say that you're making bad music. If you put out there something that comes earnestly from the bottom of your heart, then you're going to make some great songs. And no one can tell you otherwise. Okay? It's your first album on your own, it's gonna be tough, because it's the first page of a new chapter. But a new chapter just means that it's new, not that you ought to compare it to the rest of the book. And you have plenty of chapters left to write about music, so don't give up on it now, okay? You've come so far already. Music is what you love the most, and you're so good at it, it'll be just fine. Okay?"

He let out a long sigh, and his body grew numb as you ran your hand through his hair to soothe him. He hadn't felt so peaceful in weeks. Was it because of your words or just because you were holding him like this? You seemed to be shielding him from the entire world, and he felt safer in your arms than in any place he had visited. He reckoned that besides his mother's embrace, he had never felt so thoroughly himself anywhere but in your arms. He felt like he belonged right there, engulfed in you, pressed to your chest, his forehead seemed to fit so perfectly in the crook of your neck… It felt like… what was the word he was looking for? It was hard to describe the feeling, it was like…

Home.

"Are you feeling better, little spoon?" you asked, humour back in your voice, and Harry chuckled, but didn't move away from you yet.

"Yeah, a little better. Sorry, was just…"

"Overwhelmed a little?"

"Yeah. Too much stress."

You pulled away just enough to hold his face in your hands.

"You're not alone, Harry. Okay? You're not alone, and you'll never be. I can't help you writing songs, but I'll always be here for you."

"Promise?"

"Promise." You nodded, giving him the softest of smiles.

"You know, I've been so unproductive in writing these past few weeks, you could help!"

You laughed, drying his cheeks with your thumbs.

"You've just heard me sing, you can assess the damage I would make if I helped!"

"Don't say that," he frowned. "Your voice is lovely."

"It isn't."

"It is! Since when do I lie to you?"

You merely chuckled in response, and took a step back, but Harry stopped you before you could walk back inside the house.

"Thank you. For coming here, for being here for me, for… everything, really. Thank you, Y/N. I don't think that I could do this without you. It's… it feels like you… always pull me back on tracks, like you… you always bring me home."

You weren't sure what to answer to such a statement, so you merely smiled instead, hoping that words weren't necessary this time. You were right, he offered you back a smile, and seemed to understand what you couldn't say.

You disappeared inside the house again, but Harry stayed there for a little longer. There were words stuck in his hed he couldn't shake off, he could almost hear them being sang…

It was 3 am when you were woken up by the sound of guitar echoing through the hallway, coming from Harry's bedroom.

You couldn't decipher the words he was humming thanks to you though, only the whisper of the slow craft of a tune being born on metal cords.

Sweet creature, sweet creature,

Wherever I go

You bring me home.

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

Tag list: @ponycake27​ @horsesreign​ @xinyourdreamsx​ @jbluevelvet​ @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss​ @stuckupstucky​ @snek-shit​ @suchatinyinfinity​ @i-padfootblack-things  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi​@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy @addictedtofictionalcharacters​ @staringmoony​

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#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles series #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #series #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic

[bananapajama87]

Bend-The-Knee or be Broken

@aphrarepairweek2020 Day 2: Thunderstrom prompt! Super late, but having fun anyway! A friend/crush fic for RusEng! I just love to think about the mechanics of Nations’ free will and I think (other than Germany) Russia is one of the best subjects for a study on it. I hope my ideas came through clearly :) Ivan Braginsky had a well-known and violently documented dislike for “friendly political visits” but the guest room in England’s lavish country estate had always been one of his least favourite personal hells. 

He paced slowly around his confines, inspecting the impersonal velvety decor that he had begrudgingly become familiar with over the centuries. Its careful design was facetiously inviting and desperate to be impressive. ‘Please, make yourself at home!’  the glowing fireplace seemed to say, echoed mockingly by the diamond chandelier who added ‘because I bet you don’t have things nearly so nice back at yours!’ Every country did this of course, but England always managed to be so wonderfully condescending.Ivan bristled. He never slept well in other Nation’s homes, but something in the night air was making him particularly restless. He hadn’t found the peace of mind to even sit down since he had arrived, despite his duties early the next day. Showpony duties, he thought, The dusty to be an amusing little beast, well-trained and pampered to show off how well his masters are doing. He gripped at the hem of the silky pyjamas he had been issued for trips like these. They were so unlike the cotton tank top and shorts that he wore at home. Ivan glanced around the room again and as usual, his eyes were tugged toward the monstrously large landscape painting looming above the mantle. It was a mirror image of the view outside the room's large window. Temperate, emerald moors bordered darkly by mysterious, hungry woods. He ran an ungloved hand over his scarred throat and thought about his own rugged taigas and unforgiving tundras. He shook his head. It was tacky of England to have a painting of himself in the guest bedroom, even if it wasn’t a portrait. He stalked out the door to see if he could find somewhere less here to be.

Ivan drifted through the hallways, careful not to step on any creaky floorboards. He was making a circuitous path toward the first-floor sitting room. If he remembered correctly, that fireplace was always burning and had comfortable chairs. It was disquieting to think about how intimately familiar Ivan was with England’s home although they had never really been on first name (or even last name) terms with each other. Not that he was with anyone else either… Maybe he could tire himself out reading old newspapers. 

The heavy oak door didn’t creak when Ivan pushed it open. The dying glow of the fire was filling the room with the heavy smell of a quiet night and casting long shadows on the opposite wall. They wavered gently, distorting the shapes of things and making Ivan unsure of where the floor ended and the dark began. Running his hands lightly across the furniture for guidance, he crossed the room silently, coming to a stop in front of the picture window that looked out onto the veranda, and beyond that, those green hills now inky black silhouettes. The moonlight fought valiantly to shine through the thick clouds but was diffused into a mere suggestion of itself. He could smell the humid scent of an oncoming thunderstorm brewing on the other side of the glass.

“Good evening, Russia. Is there something I can do for you?” England’s voice was soft and scratchy with fatigue, and though Ivan would not allow himself to show his surprise outwardly, he felt his heart pick up speed as he turned to look. England was standing in the doorway, hair more dishevelled than usual and an untied housecoat draped over his pyjamas. He was carrying a mug in his hand that seemed to be empty.“No not at all, England. Just trying to admire the stars, but as you can see, it is not my lucky night.” Russia smiled his diplomatic smile and put a gentle pep in his voice that he used for others. He was naturally soft-spoken but he seemed suddenly too loud for the room. England crossed the room deftly, and joined Russia at the window, not needing to try to avoid the furniture in his own house. The top of his head only came up to Russia’s shoulders. “Quite unlucky indeed. A storm’s coming. A big one if I’m not mistaken.” England said, and Ivan knew he was right. His skin had begun tingling with static electricity. They stood in silence, England sipping at the empty mug every so often. Russia sensed that he didn’t know what to do with his hands (or make a graceful exit from the situation now that he had engaged with Ivan). That man had never been able to stop himself from standing on ceremony even if it made him squirm with discomfort as it did now. Ivan chuckled.“What are you giggling about?” England asked, frowning up at Ivan. Ivan looked down at him, his emerald green eyes were glowing with irritation.“Your mug is empty.” Ivan pointed into the empty cup. England’s face went red and he set the mug down quickly on a coffee table and he stuffed his hands in his pockets. 

They were quiet for a while and watched the clouds gather.“Why are you awake, England? Surely you weren’t hoping to stargaze too?” Ivan asked, enjoying keeping England trapped here with him. He wouldn’t be only one miserably tired in the morning.

“Oh, you know. Insomnia. You being here and all, I have a lot on my mind. Lots of things being prepared for your stay and all that,” he said airily, gesturing vaguely with his hands. Ivan noticed the deep circles under England’s eyes and wondered how often he was struck with insomnia. He looked much more human now than Ivan had ever seen him in an official capacity. Stubbly, slouching, and underdressed. Somehow, he felt the need to reassure him.

“No need to go to all the trouble. If I am honest, which I seldom am, I hate the pomp. It is… insincere,” Ivan said, making sure to look away from England’s face before his subject could notice his staring. England ran his hands down his face in exasperation and groaned. 

“Don’t I know it. It’s tax money and organization and time being put into a show for the measly audience of one,” suddenly England realized what he had said and quickly added: “no offence, Russia.” Ivan couldn’t help but laugh again. England seemed to take that as acceptance and continued. “I don’t know of anyone who really likes that pampering. Except maybe Francis. And Alfred. Those two are a pair of egotistical layabouts if I ever saw some.” Ivan nodded, the first names not lost on him. He was reminded that despite England’s prickly disposition, he was in very good standing with the other Nations. Friends, even. “I mean, I don’t even want them in my bloody house but, you know how it is, the boss says you’re a bed and breakfast, you’re a bed and breakfast.” Arthur was leaning his shoulder on the wall now, looking more casual that Ivan had ever seen him. There was an impish smile on his lips, complaining about bosses and other Nations was clearly a favourite pastime. 

“Yes,” Ivan offered, “America has proven many times over the years to be a terrible houseguest, yet he is one of my most constant companions.” Ivan tried to match Arthur’s relaxed posture.

“Right? The boy carves his name into anything and everything he can lay his hands on, and thinks I won’t notice! Three hundred years I’ve had this little estate and he vandalizes the wall panelling! I don’t know how I could have raised him so poorly.” Arthur mimed strangling someone furiously and Ivan smiled.

“Is that what it says on the back wall of the closet in the guest room? I had always wondered. Terrible penmanship.” Arthur went a little red in the ears

“Alfred,” he growled bitterly. This time, when Ivan laughed, Arthur joined in. “Well, I guess, on the whole, being social isn't the worst thing our bosses have made us do, eh?” Arthur poked Ivan in the ribs with his elbow and winked. Ivan forced himself to keep smiling as his stomach dropped to the floor, he did not want to ruin the atmosphere.

“No, I suppose not,” he said, trying to approximate pleasantness in his voice. Arthur was not fooled.“Oh, sorry. The past is a better subject for a younger crowd.” He had his hands back in his pockets and pushed himself up off the wall. His eyes seemed to be trying very hard not to direct themselves towards Ivan's neck. “I’ve been talking to Alfred too much.”

Silence. 

The clouds finally broke and rain finally began to hit the window arrhythmically. For some reason, Ivan didn’t like seeing England feeling guilty on his behalf. Usually, it would be funny but tonight it was not. Unusual. He should say something.“Well,” Ivan tried to sound reassuring, “I suppose that even the past is preferable to America’s company.” Arthur let out a little puff of air that condensed on the cloudy window and smirked.

“You’re a mean son of a bitch, you know that?”

“Coming from you, England, that is high praise.” Arthur let out a barking laugh that made Ivan smile from ear to ear. His own shoulders shook with suppressed snickers. The room felt suddenly larger as if something oppressive had been banished by Arthur’s earnest smile. 

“Call me Arthur, Ivan. We’ve known each other for centuries. It’s ridiculous to pretend like we’re not at least well acquainted.” Arthur looked up at Ivan as he said this, his eyes shining a little from laughter. They were the same colour as the hills outside. Ivan felt warmth in his face that he couldn’t diagnose. 

“Oh, I thought… Well, we have not always been on the best terms, or speaking terms, I’ve been quite hostile to many of your allies, I-”

“Oh please,” Arthur interrupted, rolling his eyes, “that’s Russia. I’m asking Ivan to call me Arthur. Here,” Arthur stepped closer to Ivan and Ivan once again felt his heart hammering, “since I suppose I’m formally meeting Ivan Braginsky for the first time,” he held his hand out. “My name is Arthur Kirkland, hobbyist and amateur murder mystery author.” Ivan had no idea what to do, he felt nervous for the first time in a long time. Other Nations never tried to be familiar with him. Ivan stared at the hand, frozen until Arthur shook his proffered hand insistently.

 “I-Ivan Braginsky. Um, personification and official national ambassador of Russia,” he said. Before Ivan could take Arthur’s hand, it was snatched away.

“Everybody knows that. Tell me something about Ivan!” Ivan was speechless. He hadn’t thought about himself much outside of that in a long time. 

“Uh, brother and,” He felt like he was trying to guess a correct answer, “sunflower enthusiast?” Arthur seemed satisfied because he took Ivan’s hand and shook it firmly. And he smiled. Ivan smiled back.

 The two men stood in comfortable silence for a few moments, watching the rain run little snail trails down the window through which the two men could see the strengthening moonlight. 

“Do you really think that?” Ivan almost whispered. The crackling of the fireplace was setting the volume of the room.

“Think what?” Arthur looked over at him, equally quietly.  

“Do you think we are... real?” Arthur blinked and furrowed his considerable brows. “I mean,” Ivan paused to search for the words, “When your boss tells you to do something, do you decide whether or not to comply or do you just,” Ivan mimed a little salute and clicked his heels, “even if you would rather die than carry out the order?” Arthur nodded understandingly, his face seeming concerned, but what he said sounded like something he had rehearsed to himself. Maybe late on nights like this, where everything seemed small. 

“I have had to accept that I am not human and that here are some choices I don’t get to make. Not like the people I represent. I don’t get to say no, or yes for that matter, unless one of them leads me there. Boss says ‘the peasants are revolting’? I sharpen my axe. The people say ‘parliament rules’ and it’s the king’s head on the chopping block? I sharpen my axe. It’s that or I’m next.” Arthur shrugged. Ivan gulped. He remembered the weight of the gun in his hand and what it was like to point it at starving citizens one day and the royal family the next. “Obviously, we can’t die but, well, you remember what happened to Francis. During the revolution.” Ivan nodded. Everyone had heard about what happened to Francis. He’d pleaded with Robespierre to stop the violence in Paris and been guillotined by his own people. When he woke up, he was out in the countryside where he had first appeared centuries earlier, naked and revolutionary. “We don’t really ever get to choose. Most have decided it’s not worth the effort anymore. Not that I have to tell you that.” Ivan scowled. 

“So… you are saying that it’s bend-the-knee or be broken? That is our freedom? What makes Arthur Kirkland and Ivan Braginsky is - is - obedience with the addition of indignance?” Ivan clenched and unclenched his fists. The first fork of lightning flashed through the sky, for an incalculable instant illuminating the room in a cold white light. The thunder that came after was felt rather than heard. Arthur sighed. 

“It’s certainly not the most inspirational thought, but essentially, yes.” Ivan growled and his arm tensed, itching to hit something. To shatter something, anything. Just to make a difference to something of his own accord. But Arthur was looking at him with a pitying acceptance and understanding that Ivan knew could only ever come from another Nation. Ivan felt the fire inside him go out and he slumped against the window, the glass cooling against his forehead and his breath hot on the glass. 

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked, leaning next to him on the window, his hand dangerously, tantalizingly close to Ivan’s. Ivan closed his eyes and suddenly felt how late it was. He couldn’t summon the energy to open them again.

“This is not a revelation to me. It is just... disheartening to hear it from someone else.” Arthur huffed in agreement. 

“Don’t I know it.” They were silent again. 

 Rumbling from the outside rattled Ivan’s tired brain as he stood half asleep, just feeling the window on his skin and Arthur’s presence. That is until Arthur once again pushed away from the wall and Ivan felt the loss. He looked up to see the other man walking determinedly to the other end of the window. “You know what?” Arthur wasn’t whispering anymore.

“Arthur?”

“I may not get much to myself in this world, but I do get this. I get to be Arthur Kirkland, a stuffy, grumpy, brother, soldier, knitter, terrible cook, and,” He looked back at Ivan and nodded as he pulled a set of keys out of his housecoat pocket, “friend.” he jammed one of the keys in the lock of the veranda door and began to jostle it violently. 

“Arthur?” 

“And I don’t know about you, but I don’t have to be England until tomorrow morning, so tonight,” he threw open the door and was immediately battered by the violent wind and rain. The sound of the door slamming against the wall was camouflaged by another clap of thunder. “I’m gonna do whatever the hell I want.” 

“What are you doing? It’s pouring out there!” Ivan shielded his face from the wind with his arm. Arthur looked back at him with a half-crazed smile Ivan had heard about. It was a famous harbinger of-

“Who says we’re too old for a little teenage rebellion?” He cackled, once again holding out his hand for Ivan to take, inviting him to spend the night doing absolutely nothing but pretending they were going to die someday.

Ivan didn’t hesitate, he took Arthur’s hand in his own, pulled him close by the waist as if ready to lead him in a waltz and sent them both careening out the door and into the storm, their laughter drowned out by the elements.

--

#RusEng #APH Russia #Aph England #aphrarepairweek2020 #Hetalia

[anonwriter27]

Trust in Me Ch10

Tony was back in that room again; the same room he visited night after night when he closed his eyes and begged for sleep. He sighed deeply, aware of how this would play out.

 “You look worse than I feel.” She joked, though a simple laugh pained her.

 Tony shook his head, “Blunt as always sis.”

 Tony walked over to where his sister lay in her bed, trying to ignore the blood-soaked cloth the nurses were taking away. She looked so small laying there; his big, strong sister, looked fragile. He was scared to hold her hand, afraid she might break.

 She grinned as best she could, “I can happily say this illness has not dulled my wits.”

 They sat in silence, both aware that more needed to be said.

 “Tony…” Lia began.

 “You know I was reading about this new study in Sweden.” Tony interrupted.

 “Tony…” Lia sighed.

 “They’re not saying they can cure this thing, but the experimental procedures have so far proven successful in reducing the more aggressive symptoms…”

 “Tony…please.” Lia said, a tone of desperation that made Tony pause.

 “I can fix this.” Tony said, though he couldn’t look her in the eye.

 Lia placed her hand over Tony’s, an act that still calmed him to this day.

 “I love you Tony. I am so proud of the amazing man you’ve become. You’re going to do amazing things with the ideas swirling around in that big head of yours; and I know if anyone could find a way to cure this it would be you…” She smiled.

Tony looked up at her, a sad smile of his own resting on his lips.

 “…but you can’t fix this one little brother. I’m not recovering from this and I’ve made peace with that.”

 She paused to cough into her tissue; the sound so painful it made Tony wince.

 “You can’t fix me, but you can help me Tony.”

 Tony moved closer to her, moving the sweat soaked hair off her forehead. “Name it. I’ll do anything. I’ll call dad, he’ll listen…”

 “I don’t have long, and with the way things are with the Tatum’s, I’m not sure how long Raf has either.” She said honestly, tears forming in her eyes. “I need you to promise me, Y/N will be safe.”

 Tony nodded his head in response, unable to speak.

 “No Tony, I need to hear you say it.” Lia said, her tone firm.

 Tony took in a shaky breath, the tears he’d been holding back, suddenly flowing freely.

 “I promise.”

 Lia smiled up at her little brother, her features turning from strained to soft. She looked peaceful.

 Tony was suddenly out of his body watching the scene in front of him. He watched his sister thank him, he watched himself kiss her forehead and get up to leave.

 “Turn around.” Tony said, as he watched his past-self walk towards the door.

 But he didn’t slow down.

 “Turn around!” Tony yelled, but his past-self had already put one foot out the door.

 “Turn around!” Tony yelled again, only this time he wasn’t dreaming, he was in his room at the tower.

 Pepper woke up with him; his yells always woke her, but they never surprised her. She tried to comfort him, but he was already out the bed and pacing. She knew what dream had provoked this reaction, and she knew better than to ask about it.

 And that was how Tony found himself in the kitchen area of his niece’s apartment. He was drinking his second cup of coffee, trying to keep himself awake so he wouldn’t fall back into that dream.

 The noise of footsteps caught his attention. He hadn’t expected to see the God of Mischief up and about this early in the day. Loki was equally surprised to see Tony in his new living quarters.

 “Stark.” Loki nodded.

 “Stark? No nickname or snipe?” Tony asked, sarcasm traceable in his tone.

 “Cutesy nicknames are more your forte are they not?” Loki quipped, as he prepared the kettle to boil.

 Tony scoffed, “You’re losing your touch reindeer games. Perhaps you’re going soft.”

 Loki looked down at the two mugs he’d laid out on the counter, “Perhaps.”

 They went about their business in silence, neither one paying much attention to the other.

 “How was she?” Tony asked, unable to look up at the God.

 Loki looked over at Tony, noticing that the billionaire’s normal arrogant posture had altered to something humbler and shyer.

 “She was upset, understandably.” Loki spoke truthfully.

 Tony nodded, “I should have taken more precautions.” he said, more to himself than Loki.

 Loki continued to make two cups of tea in silence. He was about to return to Y/N’s room when he noticed the look of despair in Tony’s eyes. From the amount of time Loki had been at the tower, and his few interactions with the man of iron, Loki had deduced him to be a haunted man. It was clear that Tony was greeted nightly by the ghosts of his past; the dark circles under his eyes were evidence enough of that. What had also become apparent, was that Tony was haunted in his day-to-day actions. Every time he acted in Y/N’s best interests, it was as if a voice was in his head telling him to do more.

 Every fibre of Loki’s being told him to walk away, that it wasn’t his place to comment; but that damned voice in his head was awake and urging Loki to speak.

 “From what I gather, you’re doing everything within your capabilities to keep her safe.” Loki began, startling Tony who had forgotten he wasn’t alone.

 “I know how it feels to fail at protecting someone you…love. It’s only natural to want to protect the one thing you have left…”

 “You have no idea…” Tony started, but Loki interjected.

 “I know. I don’t know what you went through, nor do I presume to offer advice on the subject.” Loki clarified. “But I do know that Y/N wouldn’t want you to torment yourself like this.”

 This caused Tony to look at the trickster for the first time during their conversation.

 Loki continued, “As far as she’s concerned, everything you’re doing is enough.”

 Loki decided to leave it at that, aware he had probably overstepped. As he was about to turn down the corridor leading to Y/N’s room, two cups in hand, Tony’s voice stopped him.

 “Thanks…Loki.”

 Loki nodded in response and continued on his way.

 Tony finished his coffee, a small smirk on his lips at having had an insightful conversation with the God of mischief. He wanted to believe what Loki had said, that he was doing right by his niece. But no matter how often he convinced himself of this during the day, by night that memory would still haunt him.

 He would always regret having not turned around, he would always regret not taking one last look at her; because minutes after Tony had left that room, Lia died.

   Y/N slowly stirred awake, the smell of tea greeting her as she turned in her bed.

 “I didn’t mean to wake you.” Loki said, smiling softly at her dishevelled appearance.

 She was wearing one of Tony’s old band T-shirts that was far too big for her and a pair of pyjama shorts. Her usually combed, wavy hair was a little wilder, with curls forming in its unruliness. Y/N was a little self-conscious, aware that she must look unkept; part of her wishes she had woken up before him to sneak into the bathroom and freshen up.

 Loki thought she looked beautiful.

 “That’s okay. I’m glad you did.” She said with a smile.

 Loki smiled in return and took a seat beside her on the bed.

 After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Loki noticed her sudden shyness but did not push to know why.

 She eventually spoke up, “About last night… I’m sorry for being so emotional. I got so comfortable being there. I think I was just caught off guard by their words, I should have been prepared.”

 Loki shook his head, “You shouldn’t have to prepare for hatred Y/N.”

 She smiled sadly, wishing that were true. She continued to drink the tea Loki had made for her.

 “I should have said something to them.” Loki admitted.

 Y/N was surprised by his words. But felt instantly guilt upon hearing them.

 “No Loki.” She said, reaching for his hand. “There was nothing you could have done. They have already made their minds up about me; besides, I’d hate to see you get into trouble for me.”

 Loki smiled at her concern. He reached out to move Y/N’s hair out the way of her eyes, then delicately cupped her face and ran the pad of this thumb over her cheekbone.

 “It’d be worth it.” He said, with that devilish smirk and a gleam of mischief in his eye.

 Y/N laughed, tilting her head further into his palm. Like the night before, Loki felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her again, and by the look in her eye, it appeared she felt the same.

 Loki leaned in first to gauge her reaction, only to find her do the same. It was as if a piece of string was pulling them together. All this time, wherever she moved so did he and vice versa; right now, it felt like the string was encircling them, gently pushing them together.

 Their foreheads were touching now, one move and their lips would be sealed in a long-awaited kiss.

 That would have been the case if a young spiderling hadn’t knocked on the bedroom door.

 Peter was surprised to see Loki answer the door and confused by the deep red blush on Y/n’s cheeks.

 “Sorry um, I can come back later.” Peter said awkwardly.

 “That’s quite alright, I need to be going.” Loki assured him.

 “Going?” Y/N asked.

 “The Shield agents are trying out their new weapons at the tower today, me and Thor are the test subjects.” Loki explained, seemingly bored of the day’s plans before they started.

 Loki was about to leave when Y/N called out, “Be careful.”

 Loki turned back around, his heart beating faster at her concern. She seemed shocked by her own words, but not regretful she had spoken them. Meanwhile, Peter started putting all the pieces together, a knowing smile on his face.

 “I will.” Loki promised, and left.

   To say Loki was bored would be an understatement. He was supposed to be listening to Fury drone on and on about how these new weapons could take on an alien invasion, his one good eye landing on Loki and Thor as he spoke. Loki’s mind was other places, more precisely, in Y/N’s bed. When he thought to himself how he could still be lying in bed with his arms around you, it made him loathe Shield and their experimental weapons.

 “Cheer up Loki, people will begin to think you don’t want to be here.” Nat said quietly, standing beside the God.

 Despite their difficult beginnings, Nat had been more hospitable towards Loki than most residents of the tower. Using her years of training, Nat had been watching and analysing the God’s actions during his stay at the tower. Through her investigation she summarised him to be decent enough. His interactions with Y/N had convinced Nat he was worth talking to.

 “Then my reputation as a team player will be ruined. How will I live.” Loki said, earning a chuckle from Nat.

 “These weapons are designed to protect. They are defence not offence. I do not want to see your stupid asses blowing each other up; firstly, because the cleaning bill would be too high. Secondly….” Fury went on.

 “I was surprised to see you here today; I thought you’d be preoccupied.” Thor said as quietly as he could, joining in on Loki and Nat’s conversation.

 “With what?” Loki asked, uninterested.

 “I think you mean, with whom?” Nat interjected.

 Loki rolled his eyes at their antics, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 “The blush on your cheeks says otherwise, brother.” Thor teased.

 Loki ignored their knowing glances and quiet chuckles, though he couldn’t deny a small part of him felt a tiny thrill at being associate with Y/N.

 He had always been independent, he did not seek out unnecessary company on Asgard, nor did he welcome it when approached with the prospect. Yet, something about being linked with someone, a person he had grown such an affection for, and for that link to be recognised, felt safe.

 The training had started, and the new weapons were tried and tested. The weapons had proven affective when they hit their target, but Loki had proved to be too fast for them. Fury would have to investigate the speed element.

 As the agents were packing away their tools, Loki, Nat and Thor were getting ready to retire for the day; they were tired but mostly due to boredom.

 That’s when Loki overheard them.

 “Shame they picked those guys. I could think of a few of Fury’s ratpack I’d like to try these out on.” One agent said waving the new iron glove Shield had made to improve the effectiveness of the good old-fashioned punch.

   “Oh yeah, like you could take them on.” Another agent scoffed.

 “I’d like to take a crack at the winter soldier. A little payback you know?” The third said.

 Nat had begun to listen too, aware of how dangerous this conversation could go.

 “How about Banner? See if he’s all that without the big guy.” They joked.

 Nat whipped her head around and was about to taser the stupid man, but Thor took a gentle hold of her wrist, shaking his head though his eyes showed a similar anger to hers.

 “What about the Tatum girl?” The first one spoke again, trying on the iron glove. “You know the stories of her family, maybe there is a little Viking in her that just needs coaxing out.”

 Loki had stopped what he was doing. Nat and Thor watched him closely, aware of the anger radiating off his body.

 “Besides, people would probably thank me.” The agent said, the implication clear.

 That was it, within a matter of second Loki was holding the man two feet off the ground by his collar.

 “Loki don’t!” Thor warned.

 Nat approached him, “If you get into trouble you’ll be sent back to your father and where will that leave her?”

 Loki contemplated her words and the words of Y/N earlier that day, “I’d hate to see you get into trouble for me.”

 Loki let go the agent, the petty man falling harshly to his feet.

 Loki was about to turn away, but the agent became aware of the weapon wrapped around his hand and gave a swift blow to Loki’s right cheek.

 Thor grabbed Mjölnir, ready to attack, but Nat beat him to it, having already tasered the guy until he was a shaking mess on the floor.

 The other Shield agents rallied around their friend, “Fury! Did you see that!?”

 Fury had indeed seen everything, including the distasteful comments of the Shield agents. “Nope.” Fury said and with that he left.

 Thor looked at his brother; Loki was trying to wipe away the blood on his cheek, but the wound was open and gushing. Thor took him to see Bruce.

    “Peter please stop apologising. You did nothing wrong.” Y/N insisted for the umpteenth time.

 “I know…but if I hadn’t invited you to the carnival...” Peter insisted.

 “Then I never would have tried a corn dog, or seen the lights, or ridden a Ferris wheel. No matter how it ended, I’m still grateful I got to do all that.” Y/N smiled.

 Peter finally relented, feeling assured that Y/N didn’t regret celebrating his birthday with him.

 “Well now that we’ve settled that… wanna talk about Loki?” Peter asked with a sly smile.

 Y/N’s face began to turn red again, but before she could say anything Nat knocked on the open door.

 “Hey guys.”

 Y/N noticed the concerned look on her face, “Everything okay?”

 “Bruce is checking Loki over. There was an altercation at training and Loki got hurt.” Nat explained.

 Y/N’s heartbeat quickened, her stomach churning. “An altercation? Why?”

 Nat smiled knowingly, “He had to defend his lady’s honour of course.”

    Y/N ran to the infirmary where Bruce was inspecting the gash on Loki’s cheek. She knocked quickly on the door.

 “I have a feeling I know who that is.” Bruce said kindly as he opened the door to Y/N and excused himself.

 “You’re hurt.” She said, then mentally scolded herself for stating the obvious.

 “It’s just a scratch.” Loki tried to sound reassuring, despite the blood on his face.

 Y/N approached him on the hospital bed he was sat on. She took a seat beside him and grabbed the antiseptic tissue. She began gently cleaning his wound, careful not to apply too much pressure.

 “Nat said there was an altercation.” Y/N spoke.

 Loki sighed, “A Shield agent was speaking out of turn.”

 Y/N nodded, “About me?”

 Loki nodded, not wanting to repeat what the stupid man had said.

 Y/N wanted to thank him, but she had thanked him so much since he had arrived at the tower, that she wasn’t sure the word would correctly convey just how much his actions meant to her. So, she gathered up her courage and decided to let her actions speak for themselves.

 Daintily holding his chin by the tips of her fingers, she brought her face closer to his, and kissed him sweetly on the lips.

 Loki froze at first; having grown so used to a lack of intimacy in his life, Loki had been stunned to feel something so lovely.

 The shock wore off quickly and Loki responded, deepening the kiss, weaving his fingers through her hair. The kiss was leisurely; it was both filled with excitement and contentment.

 This would be the first kiss of many.

#loki x reader #loki odinson #loki fandom #loki laufeyson #thor #tony stark #peter parker #odin #natasha romanoff #bruce banner #nick fury #avengers #pepper potts

[peteywillproceed]

Photobooths

Author’s Note: Hi guys! Thank you so so much for all the support on Kiss Me! That was my first post on here and I was so nervous :) I’ve had this idea stuck in my head since Youth by Troye Sivan came out, but I never actually finished it (yay for drafts!) Still don’t really know what it is, but anyway, as always, I hope you enjoy it x

Summary:  “When the lights start flashing like a photobooth, and the stars exploding, we’ll be fireproof” - You and Tom have been friends for years, even if you have been keeping your feelings a secret. Sometimes all it takes is being drunk off your ass to finally get the answers you didn’t know you needed...

Word Count: 3,150

The camera clicked and you were blinded, the silly moustache Tom had stuck on your upper lip falling half-way across your mouth as the heat from the lights made you sweat. It was cramped in there, the faded black seat cracked and peeling and the touch screen photo selector taking ages to register your choice. You hadn’t been in a photobooth in years, too smelly, too dirty, too boring. But the alcohol coursing through your body had made short work of any reservations you may have had, too intoxicated by the boy tugging you towards it to care.

“I want the beer goggles too, Y/n,” Tom whined beside you, reaching up to tug them from your eyes. You glanced sideways, swaying in your seat and steadying yourself against his shoulder.

“Take ‘em them,” you mumbled, smiling as he practically snatched them from your head and shoved them over his eyes.

“Best. Birthday. Ever.”

You giggled, too drunk on alcohol and his presence to care. “It’s your party, dipshit.”

You’d known Tom since year 10, and you’d lived with him whilst you were at Uni, grateful for the rent-free place whilst you were broke. You didn’t know when your feelings for Tom had changed, all you knew was you’d woken up one day and wandered into the kitchen, following the smell of pancakes and bacon. And bam, there he was, shirtless over the oven, towel flipped over his shoulder and sending you a slow grin like he’d planned it all. You were pretty sure that was the day everything had changed, but honestly it could’ve been years ago.

You giggled as the screen slowly counted backwards from three, feeling like you were floating far up in the sky. Tom might have asked you to pull a stupid face, but you were so concentrated on the way his lips were moving that you barely registered it. His hands slid into your hair, threading through the strands and made a peace sign behind the back of your head. You scrunched your nose up and dragged the bright pink feather boa over your mouth, pouting in a drunken attempt to look sexy.

“What are you doing?” Tom laughed as the camera clicked and you were dazzled by the lights again.

“Lookin’ sexayyyyyy,” you threw your hands in the air, frowning at the screen “We only have one more picture left!”

Tom licked his lips, trying to meet your eyes. “Guess we’d better make it special one, then.”

If you’d been sober enough to catch the double meaning, maybe you would have been prepared for what came next. But as the camera started counting down for its final shot, Tom grabbed your chin and turned you towards him, pressing his lips gently against yours just as the click rang in your ears.

For a second, you thought about nothing but the way his lips were moving on yours, the sheer fire that snapped you out of your drunkenness and spread over your skin. You shivered as he cupped your cheek, sure the photo had been taken, but the noise of the party outside had faded and it was just the two of you, your lips moving in time to whatever music was blaring through the speakers.

A strange sensation came over you, the photobooth and Tom’s face beginning to spin, and you jerked backwards at the feeling.

“I’m…I’m sorry, I um…I don’t know where that came from,” Tom stammered, wiping his palms against his jeans.

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t him, but blackness was appearing at the corner of your eyes, begging you to fall into the void that awaited. You could see Tom’s mouth moving, desperation crawling into his face, and you tried so hard to make your own form the words you wanted to say. But the tiredness was overwhelming, and soon you were falling into nothing, barely noticing when your head hit the floor of the booth, and Tom crouched over you in panic.

***

The next morning, your eyes opened to a dim room and the scent of caffeine wafting up your nose. Groaning, you tried to sit up, grabbing your head as it began to throb. Dribble ran down one side of your cheek and your hair stood on ends, but as you rubbed your eyes and allowed them to focus, the steaming mug of coffee and two advil tablets placed carefully on the side table drew a smile from you.

You leaned over and choked back the tablets, taking a gulp of the black liquid and savouring it on your tongue. You tried to think back through the mist and fog of last night, remembering basically everything up until you’d gone in that stupid photobooth with Tom. God, you didn’t know why you’d done that, but he’d seemed so excited and it was a chance for you two to be alone, something you hadn’t had in months. You’d have been lying if you’d said you didn’t enjoy the proximity.

“Morning sleepy head,” a familiar, velvety voice whispered.

Looking up, your eyes found Tom’s, and you groaned at the noise. “What time is it?”

“One in the afternoon,” he looked over his shoulder and laughed as he strode towards the curtains and threw them open. “Time to get up.”

“Ugh, Satan,” you mumbled, crashing back into the soft duvet.

“Y’know, I took the day off to keep an eye on you, the least you could do is not compare me to the King of Hell.”

“Sorry, your majesty.”

“Better.”

“Wait you took the day off today?” You frowned, running your fingers through your hair.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I? You were drunk off your arse and I didn’t want you to choke on your own vomit.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Anytime,” he grinned, scratching the back of his head. Bizarrely, he kept shifting from foot to foot, like he was trying to decide whether or not to sit down.

“The bed’s not made of lava, y’know,” you blinked, patting the space next to you “you can sit down.”

He nodded, still not moving, rubbing the side of his face as your confusion grew. “Y/n, I think we should talk about last night.”

“Last night? I don’t remember most of it,” you brought the coffee cup to your lips and took another gulp, eyes never leaving Tom’s. “Why? Did something happen?”

Tom’s eyes widened as he moved to sit next to you, a frown appearing on his face. “You really don’t remember anything?”

“Nope, sorry,” you shook your head and shrugged your shoulders as you ran a fingertip around the rim of the mug. “Is there something I should remember?”

You started racking your brain, wondering if he’d told you something you should have remembered or pointed someone out to you. If you were being honest, the most you remembered of the night was drowning in his eyes and paying no attention to any of the songs the rather terrible DJ was playing. You tried not to think about how he’d looked in that suit, the top few buttons of his shirt undone, and the burgundy jacket that showed off his arms. Right now, he was in his pyjamas, slung loosely at the hips and barely concealing what you knew was there – you couldn’t decide which look you preferred.

Tom looked at you for a long moment, something that looked like pain dancing behind his eyes. You bit your lip and cocked your head, wondering whether someone had said something to him and you’d forgotten. “Shit, Tom, was something said?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” he blurted, sighing audibly. “It doesn’t matter, just forget it.”

“Are you sure?” You raised an eyebrow, convinced you were missing something. “Something’s not right.”

“Nah, I’m cool, don’t worry about it,” Tom shrugged, and started to walk towards the door.

“Do you wanna get dressed and go catch a movie? You never have a day off, you shouldn’t have to spend it looking after me.” Maybe you were trying too hard, but the little pinch at the top of his brow made your heart hurt, and all you wanted to do was reach out and smooth it over. And preferably punch whoever had been there in the first place.

He shook his head. “No, I think I’m just gonna go to work.”

“But you took the day off!”

“There’s always something to do,” he laughed, the sound hollow and sad.

“Okay…” you nodded, the coffee cup shaking in your hand. “If you’re…if you’re sure.”

With a final nod, he turned and disappeared from your room, leaving you staring after his retreating back. Whatever had happened there, you wished you could have made it better. Maybe if you could remember what he meant, you’d be able to put the pieces back together and stitch up his clearly broken heart. Seeing Tom upset was like losing a piece of yourself, and until he was fixed you’d be constantly searching for a way to cheer him up.

Half an hour later, you heard the front door slam and the distant sound of his feet ringing on the steps as he left. For some reason, you felt empty, like when he left he took a piece of you with him. All you wanted to do was curl back up in the bed and fall asleep, but it was no use staying cooped up here if there was nothing to do. Sighing, you got to your feet and grabbed your hairbrush, shrieking when you saw the state it was in.

No wonder Tom had practically run away, you had a bird’s nest on your head.

***

Three Months Later

“Tom?” you called out, kicking the front door shut with your foot. “Can you help me?” Grocery bags were piled high in your hands, oranges spilling on the floor as you struggled into the kitchen.

“Here love, let me,” he swept in and gathered the three heaviest ones into his arms. “Harry’s here by the way.”

“Hi Harry,” you yelled “are you the one eating all my chocolate digestives?”

“nrgrnej,” Harry mumbled, stepping into the kitchen with half a biscuit hanging out of his mouth.

“Typical!”

“Can’t help it they’re so delicious,” he shrugged, looking at you with his hands raised.

Laughing, you shook your head and waved your hand in the direction of the bags. “As payment, you can pack those away.”

“Yes, sir!”

You walked into the living room, expecting the bomb that followed Harry everywhere to have crash landed in there too. Sure enough, pillows and blankets were strewn everywhere, the telly was blaring and biscuit crumbs were scattered everywhere, crunching beneath your feet as you stepped into the room.

You couldn’t help the eyeroll that followed, starting the clean up job that would otherwise have taken hours later on. Every so often, you’d come across one of Tom’s socks or a pen he had chewed on whilst making notes on a script, and you smiled at how tidy he was. As you started to finish up and the boys packed away the final can of peas, you noticed Tom’s script thrown on the floor, the bookmark he’d been using turned face up against the grey carpet.

Gingerly, you picked the script up and tucked your finger in the page he’d been reading, then flipped the bookmark over. You smiled as you realised these were the pictures you’d taken in that photobooth all those months ago, probably too drunk to remember to pick them up. But Tom had remembered, like he always did, and a slow grin crept across your face as your eyes trailed across the photos, tracing memories you didn’t know you had.

Until the last one.

The last one you couldn’t remember, but it was clearly there, in black and white, staring you in the face. Your lips on Tom’s. Tom’s lips on yours. And suddenly everything he’d said the morning after, how he’d wanted to talk to you and the hurt look on his face when you said you couldn’t remember anything, came shooting back all at once. You took in a deep breath, hearing noises at the door, and looked up with tears in your eyes.

“Y/n?” Tom said, panic lacing his voice “What’s wrong?”

He ran his eyes over you, freezing as he finally saw what you were holding. You held it out in a trembling hand, lips shaking as you asked him what it was.

“I think I better go,” Harry mumbled, turning for the door. “I’ll call you later mate.”

Tom didn’t reply, still not breaking your gaze and for the first time in the entire time you’d known him, you didn’t have a fucking clue what was going through his mind.

“I didn’t mean for you to see that,” he stammered.

“Why not?” Your voice was barely a whisper, the image of what you had wanted so desperately for years still seared into your mind. How could you have forgotten something like that? Something so cataclysmic and beautiful? You’d kissed Tom – and you had forgotten.

“You said you couldn’t remember…I figured you didn’t like it.”

“I was drunk, you idiot!” You hissed, waving the piece of paper in his face “I definitely wanted to know this happened.”

“But why?” he asked, and you stared at him like he was insane until he clarified. “You didn’t remember it, and you passed out before we could talk about what it meant. And in the morning, when you couldn’t remember, I figured maybe you’d just supressed it, and you didn’t want to think about it.”

Your mouth dropped open, thinking about how all this time the man you were in love with had thought you didn’t want to remember your kiss. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe.”

“You really thought I wanted to forget that?”

“Didn’t you?”

“NO! Oh my God, you are blind!” you groaned, dropping the strip of photos. It fluttered to the floor between you, the chasm of space feeling miles across yet only centimetres deep. “I’m freaking in love with you Tom, I’ve been in love with you for years, I didn’t want to forget that!”

His eyes were wide with shock, and his mouth kept moving like he wanted to say something. But you were done with wondering whether he felt the same; you’d kissed and now you felt like you could finally let it all out, what you’d bottled up since that day with the pancakes. What only his mum had heard when she’d found you crying on the kitchen floor the day Tom announced he was seeing someone new. What you’d scribbled about ferociously in diary upon diary, convinced you were stupid and he would never see you the same way.

You were done with the pretending, had been for years, and now was your chance to finally say what you’d only thought about in your dreams.

“I fall asleep at night and I think about you, I wake up and you’re the first person I want to see. When you go away filming I sneak into your room and fall asleep there because it’s the only place that smells like you. I’ve spent hours crying over you, sounding pathetic because I was too scared to tell you how I felt. And then this happens, and you don’t tell me about the one thing that could have changed everything! I had to find out through some stupid photo that you didn’t even mean for me to see!”

By the time you were finished, tears were streaming down your cheeks and you were panting with exhaustion, relief washing over you as you finally let go of the deepest secret you’d ever had. Tom said nothing, his mouth parted in shock, and you closed your eyes and tilted your head back, wishing you could just fall through the floor and never come back.

Suddenly, his arms wrapped around you, gently pulling you into a hug so tight you could hardly breathe. His breathing stuttered against you, and you pulled away so that you were looking him in the eye, your faces only inches from touching. Exactly like that night in the photobooth, only now you could remember every part of this. And you would for years to come.

“I didn’t know that,” Tom’s voice cracked, and your heart broke at the desperation slipping through his lips. “I didn’t know you felt like I did.”

“Like you did?” Your breathing stopped, and you didn’t dare believe you’d heard him right.

Taking a deep breath, Tom gripped your shoulders and looked you dead in the eye, all the bravado stripped back until he was just Tom. Your Tom. “Y/n L/n, I have loved you since the day I met you. Since the day you walked into that classroom, and I haven’t looked back. I never thought you felt the same, and I kept it bottled up for years. For a while, I thought I was over you, but my mum reminded me that love isn’t something that can fade just because you have a replacement.”

“If I could have anyone, I’d still choose you. I’d still choose your stinky morning breath and bed head, the way you can’t cook and the way you can’t stand tomatoes on your sandwich but you love ketchup. I’d choose your body and your mind, you heart and your soul, because you have meant everything to me since the day you first sat next to me in class, and I haven’t seen anything as beautiful since.”

You blinked, barely able to absorb the words let alone process them. You’d dreamed of him saying these words for years, and yet now that you were finally hearing them, it felt less romantic than it was sad.

“You’ve loved me too? All this time?” you choked, letting the realisation wash over you.

“All this time, and more too,” Tom replied, his voice low and thick with emotion.

“And that night in the photobooth?”

You held your breath, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer. For once, your future was out of your hands, and it lay in the balance of a boy you had loved in private for years. You were quite literally on a knife’s edge, and whichever way you fell you had to hope there was someone to catch you.

“That night in the photobooth was the greatest decision I ever made,” Tom replied. “You’re the greatest decision I ever made.”

Maybe you would’ve heard what he was going to say next, but you no longer cared as you flung yourself towards him and let your lips collide. As electricity sparked against your skin, you found yourself slipping once more into the dark abyss, but this time you were ready. This time the only thing you were drunk on was the scent of Tom – and this time, you were never letting go.

#tom holland fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland smut #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #fluff #angst #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfic #peter parker fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfiction

[justhereforseverus]

A Rose by any Other Name Would Smell as Sweet

Miserable_toad

Chapter 15: A tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury.Summary:

You and Severus spent an intimate night together and he seems to open up to you more and more. The morning comes with a rude awakening and you can't hide your frustration with Dumbledore anymore.

Notes:

This took AGES. I’m so so sorry. Partly, because life is.. strange. Also due to my complete inability to write anything smut related. Sorry for the cringe in advance. There’s also fluff in there. And angst. Basically, a full package.

As always, thank you so much for reading, for your kudos and comments! :3 Comments are always appreciated.

Chapter Text:

We went through the empty hallways, down the staircases to the dungeons. When we stepped into his office, he locked the door behind us and led me to the fire. I sat on the couch after I had hung my jacket to a nearby hanger and put off my high heels. I could see that Severus carefully removed the handkerchief with the lily, looked at in thought for some moments and then put it on a small table near the couch, before going to the kitchen to get some tea. He came back, offered me a cup and then sat beside me. He was still smiling while putting his arm around me. I felt so warm and glowing with love and happiness. I sighed happily and put my hand on his knee. I asked him: “That handkerchief is pretty. Why a lily though? I know they are flowers of purity and virtue but seems very specific.”

His eyebrows furrowed and he drew in a long breath before saying: “…I bought it on a wimp many years ago. As a reminder.”

“Of what?” Wait, maybe I shouldn’t pry into this….I quickly added: ”You don’t have to tell me further. Just...”

He interjected: “No, it’s fine. Remus didn’t tell you anything about Lily Evans then?” I shook my head. “She was.. IS James Potter’s wife and I’m sure you’ve heard that name before.” – he said with a rather dismissive undertone.

“Yes, I think I’ve seen a picture of him in the Daily Prophet at some point because he was promoted or something? He was the guy who defeated Voldemort. I think Remus and Sirius are also friends of him. He lives in the US, doesn’t he?”

Severus nodded weakly: “I think so, yes. Lily and I.. We’ve been childhood friends, neighbours in a way. Went to Hogwarts together. I… liked her… a lot. She broke contact at some point. She was justified in doing that. I was an idiot but it still hurts.”

I think I’ve started to understand..in the end I commented “We all were idiots when we were young.”

“Maybe but I called her a terrible slur and I shouldn’t. Especially, because she was trying to help me when her precious future husband and a certain Mr. Black had me hanging from my ankles in the air.”

Oh Sirius… what an idiotic bully you’ve been. I only replied: “Ouch….you didn’t deserve that.”

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t but it’s not like anyone but her cared. It doesn’t matter now. I know I did wrong. I know I was at fault. She never spoke another word to me after that and it’s fine. It’s long over now. I bought it to remind me of not doing that mistake again. But I don’t think I need that reminder anymore. At least, I hope so.”

“What.. slur was it?”

“You know.. mudblood, which in retrospective was pretty stupid. Thinking about the fact that I’m a half-blood myself.” - he said with a tired smile.

I gasped: “The head of Slytherin a half-blood?! Wow Salazar must turn in his grave.” I chuckled. “The person obsessed with pure-blood ideology has someone so brilliant and beautiful as a leader, who isn’t fulfilling his first requirement of ‘good’ wizards.” I kissed him on the cheek.

He smiled again,“That’s a secret though. Don’t tell my students.”

“But you’re the change they might need. So never tell me you’re useless again. And we’ve all said things that in retrospect were… shit. Like really shitty. We regret and learn from them. Some people forgive us and see our growth.. others don’t. In the end she married a bully so I guess she changed together with him, too. It’s sad she didn’t give you another chance though.”

Sadness cloudes his features: “I think I was always difficult to handle, especially back in those days. It was difficult to fit in a house that was full of rich and arrogant purebloods. But yes, you’re right. We’ve all changed, I hope. That’s the difference. In the end, it’s ok.. I think. I don’t look for her anymore, haven’t for years.” He exhaled and pulled me closer to me before adding cheekily: “I have to disagree with one point though, I don’t think Salazar would be particularly interested in the looks of his followers.”

I puffed: “Hello?! Have you seen his portrait?! He was certainly obsessed with his own looks. That cloak is extremely fancy and his pose so over the top.”

Severus laughed and I was relieved to see him happy again. Though, I had the desire to be closer to him now, to do more. With an unexpected rush of bravery, I saddled him on the couch. His eyes widened with surprised. I started to kiss him, softly at first but then more passionately. I could feel his hands wandering over my knees and thighs up to my back. I also wandered with my kisses to his neck until I could feel his hands tightening on my dress and an ever so quite moan escape from his lips. I liked hearing the ever so tight and controlled professor in a weaker position. But before I could expand on this new experience, he flipped me on my back in a swift movement and positioned himself between my legs regaining control. Unfortunately, the couch was a bit too short for that and we had to take care not to fall to the floor. He laughed and smiled, his face over mine, his long black hair falling softly around me. He said: “I think, we should continue this in a more comfortable environment.” I nodded, and to my surprise he carried me up in his arms like a bride to the bedroom. He cautiously laid me on the bed, continued his position from before and started kissing me passionately. I was completely lost. He smelled so nice and I loved feeling his weight on me, his hips on mine, his hands that slowly wandered down my sides. At some point my dress really started to bother me though. I couldn’t reach the zipper on the back like this nor was my wand in close proximity. So, I whispered: “My dress... Could you..”

“I understand.” He said and got to the side. I sat up and he helped me out of the dress by pulling the zipper down. I rather awkwardly moved out of it and he started kissing me on my neck and shoulders and I melted. He put his arms around me and tightly pulled me to his chest. “Oh, Severus – what are you doing with me?” I said softly with a shaking voice. He replied by whispering in my ears: “Let me worship you, darling.” And his hands wandered down to my bra, unlocking it, while getting rid of his shirt and pants. He leaned over me and I took a good look at him. He was mesmerising. I could see some scars on his hips and chest and made a mental note of asking him about them later but for the moment… I was enchanted and just drowned in his eyes. He looked like he felt the same before diving into another series of deep kisses. I could feel his hands on my chest, exploring, sending shivers to my core. His kisses wandering down and down, until he kissed the inside of my thighs, looking at me for consent. I nodded and he made me truly feel worshipped with his tongue and fingers until I fell apart. But I wanted more. He moved up to my mouth again to kiss me, removed his underpants and mine before lying on me. He gave a last questioning look before I confirmed again and then pushed deep. I could hear him panting, moaning quietly, a deep and holy sound in my ear, while he moved inside of me and my mind went blank with passion. Everything was just feeling, a fire moving between us until we both reached the peak.

Sweating and panting we laid in the darkness. I put my head on his naked chest and he ran his fingers through my hair before saying: “I…. sorry.. I feel like I can’t speak properly right now but.. shower maybe?” I answered with a heartily yes.

His bathroom was painted green and black and the walls were windows looking unto the Hogwarts lake. It felt like being under water as fish and other creatures swam by. Severus explained to me that the walls are not see through from the other side. He admitted, it’s weird at the beginning to get used to it. It was kinda cool though. Like showering in the sea. We went under the shower and the warm water felt fantastic. He pulled me close to him again and kissed me caringly.

When we went back to bed we just cuddled and I laid my head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat while he ran his fingers through my hair. After he sighed contentedly, he whispered: “I’ve never had such a pleasant Yule Ball night. Usually I leave the ball room early, punish some student couples who hide outside to do their frivolous activities and then go to bed early.”

“Oh, these nasty students” I laughed: “But yes, I agree. Thank you for the wonderful evening.” He kissed me again and after we talked for a little bit further we both fell into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning, I felt myself rather reluctant to do anything. In the end, most staff and students would probably sleep out their hangover, so this Saturday was intentionally left without events. Severus seemed to feel the same. He woke up earlier than I did but brought the breakfast on a big dinner tray to bed. He was very cute, sitting in his pyjamas with legs crossed on his bed, eating a croissant carefully over his plate. I took a sip from my orange juice and said: “I somehow didn't see you as the type to eat breakfast in bed.”

He smirked and scoffed: “Oh, what should I do then? Sitting on the fully set table, smoking a pipe and reading the newspaper every morning?”

“Would be very stylish indeed.”

“No. As reserved as I am, I rather don’t have breakfast at all or like that really. My family didn’t have a breakfast tradition anyway. I was glad to get a slice of toast on the way out on some days.”

“I’m sorry to hear that… though I often don’t have breakfast, too. I’m very bad in getting out of bed. It was different during my childhood though. My parents insisted on the morning ritual. I’m sorry to hear you that you didn't Is that the reason why you don’t talk much about your family?”

His expression dulled while he replied: “My parents were poor, my father was an incompetent and very angry fool. My mother suffered much. There is not much to say. It’s a boring story.” He shrugged. I told him that, independent of that, it’s part of him and I wanted to know if he wants to share. He told me afterwards that they died a couple of years ago and I said my condolences. He replied sharply: “Don’t be. It was probably the best for both of them. Though I’d wished I could have told my father what an asshole he is. I’ll never forget what he did to my mother in his rage.” I didn’t want to press further but it was certainly good to see him opening up bit after bit. He looked thoughtfully towards the ceiling.

A bell rang and disrupted our peace. Severus went to the door and told me to stay in the bedroom. He put on a morning gown and left. I could hear Filch speaking through the door: “I can’t find her. Her room is destroyed and Dumbledore sent me to you. Do you know where she is?”

Severus replied cold and distant:“...I do. Go to Dumbledore, we all meet up in his office.”

Severus explained to me that there was another break in. This time not in my classroom but my office. They were unable to break the spell protecting my private quarters but my office was turned upside down. Books destroyed, desk in half.. it was a sight. When I was standing in the middle of my destroyed office surrounded by Filch, Albus, Minerva, Sprout and Flitwick, I couldn’t hold in my anger anymore: “How did they even come here?! I thought Hogwarts was so protected?! You promised me that it wouldn’t happen again?!” I yelled in anger. I was frustrated and unreasonable and frankly, I didn’t care.

Dumbledore said in an overly calming tone, which kinda annoyed me: “They must have help from the Ravenclaw house” – here Flitwick looked to the floor ashamed – “The portrait hasn’t reported anyone not being a student of her house coming in but there are ways to conceal oneself. At least the protection on your private quarters worked. Of course, there is also a possibility that they didn’t want to go that far just to intimidate someone.” The headmaster got closer to me, grapped my shoulders in a comforting gesture before saying: “I’m sorry that happened. I truly am. I promise you we’ll find a solution and a punishment for the perpetrators. But if they were only students. they must have some help from someone who knows how to get around these spells. This isn’t taught at Hogwarts.”

I was devastated: “So, what?! It doesn’t matter! We knew who it was that did this to my classroom. What will you do now, headmaster? This has to end!”

“I know” – he said. “I’ll do my best. I’ll talk to him personally. To son and father. I’m sorry.” – he said sadly and turned away from me. That wasn’t as satisfying for me as it should be. I was disappointed and still angry. Minerva interjected before I could say more: “I don’t feel good with you returning to your quarters, darling. Maybe you should stay somewhere else for the time being. I wouldn’t feel safe knowing that someone was so close to my bed. Albus, you really have to consider that this was a direct attack on all of us. Please.” She petted my shoulders and looked at me with a pleading half-smile. I couldn’t be mad at her and she was right. I’d feel unsafe sleeping here for the time being.

“She stays with me.” – Severus interrupted sharply. Everyone looked at him and didn’t dare to challenge him on that proposition.

“Very well, Severus” – Dumbledore replied before adding “Under the proposition that Professor [y/n] wants that, too.” I nodded “yes, that’s fine with me. Thank you, Severus. I’m sure they won’t dare to break into your office.”

“And if they do, they’ll see what messing with me really means this time”, Severus said while looking closely at Dumbledore.

#ao3 #fanfiction #fanfic #harry potter #severus snape #pro snape #severus x reader #severus x oc #severus snape x you #archive of our own

[sarah--goff]

Sabaism: chapter 17: Down To A Tea:

Tick, tock, tick tock

The sound draws you from your slumber.

You open your eyes to find yourself standing in the Outskirts overlooking the labyrinth where your adventure had begun.

“What the-”

It looked to be early morning, the sky streaked in purples and pinks, in the anticipation for the sun to rise fully. It was eerily beautiful.

The wind was blowing right through you .

You shiver, holding your arms until you feel a rush of warmth melt over you. You look down at yourself, seeing you’re now wrapped in the  blue cloak.

You turn to the loud ticking, overriding your thoughts.

Tick, tock, tick, tock

Jareth was leaning against a tree, one hand behind his back, the black antique clock he used to time your run was above his head. The thin hands on the clock face read 6:30. He was gazing over the Labyrinth .  

“Good morning?” you raise an eyebrow, pulling the cloak further around you.

He inclined his head in acknowledgement in your direction with a quiet smile, still overlooking the labyrinth with distant eyes.

You yawn into the cloak.

“You could have just woken me up you know, no need for the theatrics” you mumble, finding yourself also starring sleepily over the labyrinth.

“Why am I here anyway?” you sit on a stone rock just in front of the tree.

He didn’t reply straight away.

“Sometimes I come here when I need to think,”

Jareth took his eyes away from the view to rest on you softly.

“I didn’t mean to summon you, I’m sorry, you can go back to bed if you wish” he raised his hand gently for a crystal.

“No, no, it’s ok, I’m here now i might as well stay, if you want me to?”

He smirked at your uncertainty, tilting his head back against the tree again, to lift his eyes to the Labyrinth “yes, I want you to”.

You sit in silence, not that you mind, in your sleepy state.

It was nice, peaceful.

There were birds calling in nearby trees, flowers blooming under the arriving sun, the labyrinth’s outer walls sparkled.

You don’t remember the Outskirts like this the last time you were here, but of course your mind was on other things at the time, like how on earth you were going to make it through the Labyrinth and getting home.

Now, it looked all the magical being it was, your heavy eyes stay resting on the view, just taking the time to drink it all in. Little by little. you unpick the small details you hadn’t noticed before against the orange streaked sky.

You give an involuntary content sigh as you curled your knees against your chest.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks softly

You shrug then shake your head.

“Not really, but I think I’ve had more than enough sleep already, I’ll be okay for now”

“You had a lot on your mind I imagine”

You lock your fingers over your knee cap “things have...been a lot to take in, yeah”

In truth, you were wide awake for most of the night, only dropping off occasionally to snap awake again.

The bed felt too strange for you to relax in, to the point where you found yourself missing your old knackered single in your bedroom. Whenever you shifted, you expected to hear the creaks and groans under the floorboards but faced silence.  

Apart from that, your mind couldn’t switch off.

Every time your eyes closed you found yourself staring back at the high, crumbly walls of the Labyrinth..

How could anyone ever sleep in a place like the Underground?

There was so much you didn’t know or hadn’t seen, or wanted to see again, just to check this was indeed all happening, not just a fever dream. Even after everything you’d experienced , part of you still couldn’t believe it was quite real.

“What about you?” you swivel to face him.

“Similar to you, but most likely for different reasons” the Goblin King tugged the corner of his mouth up.

You gave a nod, not that you really understood

“Right”

There was a pause. You didn’t really know what to say.

“And you’re alright?” he looks down his nose, awaiting your answer.

You gave another shrug. Alright . Were you alright?

“I’ve done my crying” you say definitely, but that’s all.

“hmm”

Not the answer he was looking for apparently.

You bite your lip looking at the dirt, rolling a stone under your shoe “so, what were you thinking about?”

“Beg pardon?”

“You said you come here to think, what does a Goblin King come all the way out here to think about this early in the morning”

“This and that” he pushed himself off the tree, sucking his teeth, “how about breakfast, since we’re already here, are you hungry?”

You felt your stomach gurgle, suddenly reminding you you hadn’t eaten since the night you ate the soup.

You gave a sheepish smile “I could eat”.

Jareth chuckled between stretching his arms out in front of him, allowing you to briefly see the pale skin and lean muscle under his leather layers.

He tugs you to your feet, indicating to follow behind him as he began to walk.

“Wait, where are we going?”

“Just looking for flat ground” he mumbled, scanning over the dusty earth.

He stopped short suddenly, making you bump into him, “ oof ”.

“Here should do it”.

Three blue and pink tinged bubbles expanded from his fingertips.

Jareth popped two of them, blowing the third in your direction to allow you to pop it curiously. It made a nice change to be outside the bubble for change.

You watch it burst into a chair to accompany another identical chair and a round table for two.

“Wait you meant we’re going to eat, here , here?”

“It’s a fine morning, I don’t see why not” Jareth shook out a checkered tablecloth gracefully sweeping it over the table and placed down two sets of cutlery glinting in the sun and a plate each.

You couldn’t argue you supposed, it was a good view after all.

The wind had since died down to only a soft breeze and the morning chill was wearing off, though you still kept the cloak over you, mostly because you forgot to ask for pyjamas last night, well aware you were still dressed in your days old clothing.

He pulls out one of the chairs, standing behind it, gesturing for you to sit.

“Ms. Hazel,“ the Goblin King bobbed his head, blonde strands of hair lightly shifting forward.

You roll your eyes, taking your seat while he tucked in your chair.

“Now then, what would Ms. Hazel like for breakfast?”

He took his own seat so you were facing each other with the labyrinth on your left.

“oh, um... cereal?”

Jareth began to laugh “of all the things in the world, Sloane Hazel would like her cereal”

your cheeks warmed “well...whatever” you mumbled.

What did you eat for breakfast in the underground? In fact, what did you eat at all, nevermind breakfast? You sorely hoped it wouldn’t be leaves and berries like in the fairy-tales.

“I tease, of course you can have whatever you wish”

“Well, what are you having?”

“Me? Well now, how abouuuut,”

He rested his chin on his gloved hand, elbow propped up on the table. His fingertips tapped against his cheek as he mulled over the idea like it was an important decision until he broke into a smirk.

“Hmmm, I know -“

A cloud of inky purple smoke and glitter flashed over the table.

Assorted china plates and silver dishes clunked onto it in unison, covering practically the every inch, all shapes and sizes- holding the most wonderful eye catching things. You could pick out the smell of eggs and bacon before anything else. Your mouth watered.

“-a bit of everything”

Not like the stories at all.

He had gloat on him, not under-passing an opportunity to show off his abilities. You let him, consumed with the food.

“How-” you go to ask but catch the words in your mouth. Nothing’s impossible.

Jareth stood to pluck a fluffy piece of toast from a silver tray “well, go on then, help yourself”

Your fingers hovered over the dishes, unsure where to start, and this was only breakfast!

You pluck a ration of bacon, scoop some scrambled egg and a piece of toast, pouring yourself tea into teacup- though you wish it was coffee instead.

Jareth began to cut into a tomato, flicking his eyes at your little plate momentarily.

“There’s no need for modesty here, Sloane, I mean it, have anything you want, I can’t imagine how hungry you must be by now, you’ll need the strength”

When you eye his plate you see he’s helped himself generously, a full English and a half even.

You shrugged, embarrassed.

"I can hear how hungry you are. The least I can do is feed you”  Jareth pretended to find his food interesting, looking at his fork, “you’ve fed me enough times...”

You were hungry, more than you had been at the lake.

 Fuck it,  

you don’t care if it’s poisoned or drugged or whatever.  you help yourself to another ration, a buttered croissant.

You bite into a particularly appetising piece of toast with a fried egg on top that had the brightest yellow oke you’d ever seen.

“ oh my god ”

You begin to chew slowly, until you finish.

ugh so good , definitely a step up from CocoPops

You quickly dab your chin with the back of your hands at the grease sliding down, hoping he didn’t notice.

“I feel disgusting” you said with a happy sigh, sitting back.

The Goblin King laughed beside you “welcome to the Underground” you clinked teacups.

Jareth sliced into a delicately powdered pancake, how the hell he had room for that you didn’t know.

“Would you like some?” he waved a piece on his fork at you.

Your stomach heaves “no, stop, I’m going to burst” you giggle “you’re spoiling me”

“What’s wrong with being spoiled? “ Jareth says lightly, spreading jam over a hot-cross bun, “when was the last time somebody made you breakfast?” he bit into it, tilting his head.

The question catches you off guard.

“oh, um...”

You had to seriously think about it.

By the time you woke in the mornings Brian and Kari were already at work. You only had enough time before school for cereal, weekends were pretty much the same story, you had to rush off between rehearsals and studying or you just lazed in and missed breakfast altogether, you don’t even recall breakfast made for you at Christmas or your birthday, most likely because neither Kari or Brian were particularly good cooks anyway.

“Well…okay fair point” you reach for the teacup, having your third cup.

You didn’t want to spoil the moment or the effort that he was at least trying to make, but your inner voice can’t help but nag at you. And for once you listen to it.

“I know what you’re doing- thinking you can butter me up with breakfast”

“I have no idea know what you mean”

Jareth pretended to find his butter knife interesting, avoiding your eyes but he couldn’t help the smirk spread on his face

“ -that wasn’t the plan at all, but is it working anyway?”

“yeah” you nod.

You leave it at that, not being hostile, but still letting him know you’re not so easily fooled, he was right earlier, your run in the Labyrinth was over. You were finished dancing to his tune.

You couldn’t be bothered to start another argument, especially if you wanted answers out of him later, so for now, you let it lie.

You turn your head in time to catch a flock of birds cross the sky, you could see the hubbub of the Goblin City  in full swing even from all the way up here.  

It was something close to feeling as though you were watching the world wake up and begin the day, the pair of you admired the sun over the Labyrinth in content silence.

The sounds of the insects in the thin clumps of grass, like cicadas, filled your ears. The clock above chimed the hour.

“This is really nice”

“I’m glad” he teased

“No, I mean it, it’s lovely”

“So do I, I’m glad ”

Jareth had a lingering triumphant smile on his face, his bejewelled broach at the throat kept shining in your face under the light. In fact, all of him seemed to sparkle today, you had to keep forcing your eyes at the ground or just behind his ear to stop yourself being caught staring at him.

You arch your back, stretching, “do you come out here a lot? Eat as well?”

“Sometimes” the Goblin King considered the view for a moment, speaking in it’s direction rather than to your face.

 “I’d rather be out here, in the open, than eat alone at a long dining table in a drafty castle, wouldn’t you?”.

“oh... yeah, probably”

You looked at your plate, embarrassed. That sounded quite sad.

You never considered the Goblin King would be lonely. Was he lonely? Weren’t there other people here? Just goblins? No there must be, I saw some, remember?

You rack your brains trying to picture their faces but everything you remember seeing- or thought you’d seen- in the ballroom was slightly blurred,  plus they were wearing masks.

You scratched at your wrist where the seal was. It was angry red and irritating. You scratch it again, feeling as if it was burning into your skin.

Jareth rested his knife and fork on either side of his plate “is that hurting you?”

“No, it’s just itchy”  

He wiped his mouth and hands with a napkin, beckoning for your hand “here”

You gave it, “can you stop it? it’s driving me nuts”

“i can but you won’t like it”

“just do whatever you have to do” you wince at the urge to grab his butter knife scratch your skin off.

You assume he’s going to pull out a crystal or whatever but unexpectedly, Jareth plucks off his gloves by the fingertips.

He opened his mouth,  putting the pad of his thumb to the inside of his cheek. Jareth held it there, looking up, humming under his breath.  

“I don’t-”

Jareth closed his mouth,  pressing his thumb to the seal on your wrist.

“well that’s disgusting “ you shake your head looking away trying not to flinch at the fizzing sensation as he pressed the saliva into the wound.

“Would you have rather I’d have licked your wrist?”

Jareth bobbed his eyebrows suggestively making you blush deeply “n-no” as you try not to picture exactly how that would look and feel.

“That any better?”

You take it back, the redness all gone, just leaving the skin glittery like his own “yeah actually”.

He waves his hand, and you watched as the plates and dishes slowly faded in front of your eyes.

The Goblin King held a crystal by his fingertips, elongating it until it stretched to form a yellowed newspaper.

Jareth sat back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other.

The Goblin King reading a newspaper. Well how about that.

You giggled, earning you a look from over the paper’s rim “am i amusing you?”

“No it’s just-” you gesture to the paper and then shake your head “you’re being so usual”

The Goblin King smirked, continuing to read,  pretending to be unfazed as he scanned the paper “am I normally unusual?”

You bit your lip thoughtfully, how could he be so unaware of how ‘Other’ he was, in his get-up and looks down to the way he moved?

On the other hand, you suppose he was considered normal in the Underground, meaning you were the ‘Other’ one in this scenario.

“You’re the most unusual usual person I’ve ever met” you said confidently

“Congratulations to me then” Jareth shuffled the paper, going back to reading.

You rest your head in your hand, staring at the view. How could anyone grow tired of seeing this?

You wish you had something of your own to read, one of your mum’s faded paperbacks or something it would be so perfect right now.

At least reading would be something to look forward to now that you had “ forever ”. You could read all you wanted without being interrupted by essays. The thought gave you a warm feeling in your stomach.

You settle to watching the world go by for a while and pretend not to notice him sneaking looks at you, he may as well have cut two eye holes in the paper like in the films. Honestly .

In this moment, sitting on top of a hill peering over the kingdom, under the sun, you were quite sure you could get used to this.

Jareth sighs, folding the paper twice and making it vanish.

“I can’t read like this, too many distractions” his eyes dance at you.

You give him a sideways glance.

“Sooo…” he says in a sing song voice “so, first day in the Underground. Well, first day free and conscious anyway”

“If you’re trying to soothe me over you’re going to have to stop saying things like that” Jareth continues without changing his tone.

“What do you want to do first? I was thinking about a tour today, you’ve already had the full experience of the Labyrinth . Or would you like to see your room before?”

Your ears prick up, “ my room?”.

Maybe he was trying to divert from the inevitable that he promised , or make you forget but the idea.

You never even considered having a place of your own. A whole bedroom in a castle just for you.

My room .

“The tower room’s served its purpose, I’m sure you’d want your own space anyway, give you a chance to settle in”

Settle .

“Y-es”

“Right then” he slapped his thighs, jumping up.

You stood, accepting the arm he offered you.

“Oh wait, do you want this back?” You pull the cloak off your shoulder but he stops you, tugging it back up again.

“No, no, you keep it, I rather think it suits you”

Jareth gave an approving nod even though you knew you probably looked like a mess right now. Actually, the idea of washing properly sounded promising

“My room it is then” you nod, picturing what it would look like.

You think he’s about to pull out a crystal and poof you there but instead the pair of you stride over to a large slate boulder nearby. Jareth nudges it aside with his foot, revealing a trapdoor underneath.

The Goblin King looks from the trapdoor in the earth to you, with a wicked beam “after you”.

The trapdoor opens and you could see the beginning of a slide. Oh no .

“You have these things everywhere?”

“A whole network tangled under the labyrinth”

“well that’s...good to know”

“It’s the quickest and most fun way to travel”

You begin to back off, remembering the last time you were down one of these.

“ Fun ”, was not the right word at all.

“I think I’ll throw up” you said in a small voice.

He threw his head back laughing “nonsense you’ll be sound” Jareth grabs a nearby mat, setting it down at the mouth of the slide.  “Now, i’m certain the Above are familiar with how this works”

“Yeah, you sit on the mat and slide down, hardly rocket science”

“Hmmm” Jareth looks under another rock, “it appears I only have one mat -you don’t mind sharing do you?” his teeth gleamed predatory like.

“Can’t we just use one of your crystals” you fold your arms, knowing exactly what he was up to.

Jareth folded his arms leaning an elbow on the rock,  “Mmm you said you wanted to “see Underground properly”, and this is the most ‘proper’ you can get” he crossed one foot over the other.

You stare at the slide, disappearing into the darkness.

“Now, now I think someone's coming down with a case of Scaredy Cat”

That did it. Your shoulders immediately square, whatever effect he was looking to have it worked, you would not show vulnerability in front of the Goblin King. You knew it was a ploy but you went along with it anyway.

It’s just a slide, you went through a whole labyrinth and you’re scared of a slide?

Jareth winked, as if able read to your thoughts “now- are you in, or are you out?”

You sighed, caving in “not like I have much choice”.  

“That’s the spirit” Jareth takes your hand, helping you to crouch without toppling over to seat yourself on the mat.

“I’ll get you back for this you know” you mumble under your breath.

You sit with your knees up, stomach doing flips at what’s about to happen. You inch forward, trying to give him as much space as possible so he doesn’t have to be so close to you in already a small proximity.

You try not to jump when you feel either side of his legs slip around yours as he shifts to get comfortable. Looks like your efforts were wasted.

Oh god .

You felt yourself flush, the warmth rushing through you, that same buzz you felt whenever he was close, just like when you were in the ballroom.

“You do trust me, don’t you?” he murmurs by your ear suddenly, hot breath making your hairs stand on end . You felt a pool of warmth in the pit of your stomach.

You nod, although you want to say “ no, you’re a reptile and I definitely don’t trust you” , but the words die in your throat. You nod, and try not to think about his body heat near you .

“Good” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, making your heartbeat speed up. Before you can register anything else he’s already pushed off from the mouth of the slide, hurtling the pair of you forwards.

The speed automatically reels you backwards, you find yourself pressing into him.

The darkness unsettles you at first but you remind yourself you’re with the Goblin King this time, you’re quite safe.

You turn a sharp corner, making you yelp and clap your hands over your eyes. You are scared, fuck your pride you should have just said no.

You instinctively press further against him, as if trying to escape the whole ordeal altogether, feeling his own chest vibrate with chuckling. Jareth crosses his arms further around your own.

“Look up, Sloane”

You shake your head, feeling sick.

“Look up, you’ll love it I promise”

You cautiously squint open an eye above you, seeing little purple and white lights whizz overhead.

You blink, trying to focus on them, immediately forgetting your fears.

“What are they?” you say loudly into his ear against the rushing wind.

“Roots. Of the trees in the Labyrinth, look-” he momentarily takes his arm off yours but you yelp, pulling it back in case you fall forward.

Jareth’s other arm stretches across  you further so he can free the other, pointing to the roots

“touch them” .

You shakily reach a hand out, grazing your fingers along the tree roots that rush past you, at your touch, they spark a rainbow glow that makes you shiver and tingle at the fingertips.

“Woahhh” you gasp, giggling. You turn your hand over as if expecting it to glow itself.

“Magic. Pure magic” Jareth trails his own hand across the roots, causing the dark to light up with colour and spark.

You do it again, pressing your palm against the roots further, revelling in the tingling feeling.

Actually, this was kind of fun. You felt light, like you were flying, you laugh tilting your head back so it echoes all around you as you zip through the darkness. He joins in.

Man, this felt amazing! Why didn’t he just give you this earlier?

“not too much!” Jareth takes your hand off rapidly

You hear him say something only the lines of “ dangerous ” and “ imbalance ” but it sounds as if he’s underwater.

You giggle and touch it one more time daringly with the tip of your finger to irk him, earning your shoulders to be pulled back roughly against him.  

“ minx ” he says, humming in your ear heavily “you better be good, you know” you can feel Jareth’s lips on the very tip of your ear, long strands of hair teasing your cheek.

You’re immediately pulled back into focus, your entire face ignites and you’re extremely glad neither of you are touching the roots or you’d be bright red for all the world to see.

Suddenly Jareth holds you by the shoulders tighter, voice returning to usual pitch.

“Here we go, sit tight”

You go rigid, ready for impact.

Ahead of you, a trap door swings open, evading light into the darkness.

The mat flies off, the pair of you land on cushions as you had before.

The trapdoor behind you swings shut.

This time, instead of a dark cave, you’re in a large circular stone room. You’re in the castle, you must be.

You blink, standing and realising little over 50 pairs of eyes on you, gawping.

A guard, who you mistook for an old man at first -had it not been for his long ears and snout-nose- pushed his way through the mob, to bow to Jareth, panting.

“Sire! The girl ! She’s escaped!  From the tower!”

“Hello”  you poke your head around Jareth’s tall figure, causing the little creatures  to step back in unison with a hushed gasp.

The guards’ ears flap up like a dog’s, scratching his head in confusion.

Jareth exhaled, putting a hand to his temple patiently, indicating these kinds of incidents happened all too often.

“I know, Candlewick, I let her out”

You side-eye him. He coughed, correcting himself “I mean invited”.

The Goblins didn’t try and hide their curiosity, gawping at you and pointing.

You stare back just as much, but not for too long, some were quite unsettling to look at.

 So this is what goblins look like. Well, they weren’t far off the fairytales. You were grateful Jareth looked nothing like them at least.

One prodded your elbow making you swat it away

“hey!”

They just grinned, delighted by your reaction, edging each other on, pushing one another towards you.

In a way they were like small children, really , really ugly children.

Unexpectedly, one small one pinched the back of your ankle, making you yelp. Their yapping peals of laughter echoed around you.

“Ow!” you grasp your ankle, “what was that for!” you hopped on one foot, only amusing them further.

Jareth threw his head back laughing, putting his hands on his hips, “oh yes, I think you’ll do just fine here”

You gave daggers at the goblin laughing behind its paw at you.

Jareth leaves your side to shuck his cape and fold it over a circular seat of some kind.

He motions for you to follow him out of the room and you don’t hesitate, well aware of the beady red eyes boring into your backs.

“is it always like this?”

You walk down a dimly lit corridor that stretched out before you .

“Nevermind them, outsiders are few and far between here,  they’ll get used to you”

The pair of you stride in unison along a hallway.

You felt awkward in the silence apart from your patter of footsteps, the sound of his boots drowning out your trainers.

You peak at them. Look at that heal! No wonder he always towered over you!

You should probably say something.

Ugh small talk .

Jareth exhaled air from his nose “this the first I’ve seen you so quiet. I got more out of you in the Labyrinth”

“i was just thinking”

He sucked his teeth “sounds dangerous”

You nudged him in the ribs with your elbow “only because you know I’m smarter than you”

“Not smart enough to solve a labyrinth apparently”

That earned him a forceful shoulder shove.

Jareth, only too delighted, shoved you back, just as hard, with a daring twinkle in his eye again .

You bite the bait, pushing him again.

Jareth gets carried away,  giving full force with both hands unexpectedly so that you miss your footing and clang against the stone wall, hitting your head with a comical donk

“Oh shit ” you clutch your head, crouching from the stinging “oh fuckkk that hurts”

“sorryareyoualright ” Jareth garbles, crouching beside you, looking genuinely frightened.

There’s a pause. You stare at each other for a second too long until you both burst out laughing -you between the wincing.

Jareth pulls you to your feet carefully while you rub your head .

“I’ll go easier on you next time” he mimes a shoulder punch teasingly to mask his doubts.

You feign rolling your eyes, the pain in your crown ebbing away, “I let you have that one”

“I should be careful then next time ” Jareth plays along

“you may not be so lucky”

“could be absolutely fatal”  he agrees

“I’ll let it slide for now”

“Very generous of you”

He holds out an arm for you to take. Well there was the awkwardness taken care of .

Maybe he should slam me into walls more often  

You bite down on your cheek to stop a giggle at that thought.

You realise you’ve passed through multiple corridors, all with the same high ceilings,  under hung candelabras and torches fitted to the walls.

“I don’t know how I’m going to find my way around this place “

You crane your neck  looking for little unique points in every corridor to remember each by but they looked exactly the same, maybe that was the point.

“You will. The trick is not to look too hard”

“That doesn’t make sense at all”

“Sometimes we find the things when we don’t go looking for them”

Suddenly remembering what the Wise Man said you blurt “sometimes the way forward is the way back”

Jareth side-eyed you at that unexpected response, “exactly” .

You still didn’t understand but maybe Underground logic was no logic, just spontaneous, it seemed to be how things were around here.

“Up here”

You climb a flight of steps, coming to a corridor.

It’s funny, the castle never looked this big from all the way in the Labyrinth, but then neither did the Labyrinth itself at first glance and oh boy how wrong you were about that.

Through the centre of the corridor was a red rug like a river covering the  flagstone floor.

“And here we are” Jareth stops short at a large round door.

“In here?”

He smiles “I don’t see any other doors”  turning the large doorknob, creaking it open.

He lets you slip inside first and you gasp.

It’s not the stiff, medieval drafty room you expected at all, it’s much cosier.

You blink a few times as your eyes adjust in the difference in light.

Your mouth parts in astonishment.

“wow” you say softly.

The room isn’t huge but roughly the size of your living room at home , definitely bigger than what you were used to.

“You are my guest, you didn’t think I’d stuff you any old place did you?”  Jareth tsked but you could tell he was awaiting your appraisal.  

He had an arm crossed over his chest, elbow resting on it and tapping his cheek with his finger expectantly.

You pivot on the spot to see everything.

In front of you was a small grid window with what you assumed to be your bed situated in front of it, a little larger than a single, covered in assorted pillows, floral sheets and knit throws.

On the thin bookshelf was a few dusty hardbacks that you would definitely be investigating soon.

Candles tall and short sat everywhere , some new, some ancient, judging by the wax dripping.

The few paintings hung on the walls were slanted at an angle.

Overall, it gave a chaotic feeling but in a strange way it was also calming, your own little hide-away. It was perfect.

By the ribbons, bells  and pearls hung from the candleholders and draped across the furniture, it was as if a slice of the ballroom had been cut and squashed into the room.

“Do you like it?” he breaks off your thoughts “if not there are oth-”

“no, no its fine”

He was trying after all you supposed, probably going off a generic girl’s interests. You could hardly blame him for not knowing what a modern teenage girl’s bedroom looked like, your previous was hardly a model.

“It’s lovely” you say with a genuine smile.

Judging by the clean and fresh smell, the room was most likely unattended for sometime and then suddenly upheaved.

“You haven’t seen the best bit yet” The Goblin King tugged at the curtains you hadn’t immediately noticed, peeling them back to let in more light and reveal another  window.

Your eyes widen.

“oh wow !”  you join his side.

From here you have an amazing view of the Goblin City as well as the Labyrinth and in the distance fields and hills with what looked like cattle grazing in them.

It was a pretty place, you could see that much.

The orange and black streak sky you had grown used to seeing in the Labyrinth was replaced by light blue against purple and pink clouds.

It looked like something from a painting but it was here, it was real. You realised suddenly how close the city was to the castle when you had mistaken it for much further away when you were standing on the Labyrinth’s walls.  

It also made you realise, with a pang in the stomach, exactly how close you had been to winning, since you could see the very Junk Yard you had been standing in days ago before you fell into the Oubliette.

The city was so close, you could smell the tell-tale chimney smoke,  even with the closed windows.

You can hardly take your eyes off the view.

A wooden desk , doubling as a vanity, sat strategically in front of it. Your mind ran wild just imagine the inspiration you’d have sitting here.

“this is amazing”  

“I’m glad”

You turn, catching your own shocked expression in the mirror of the dark wardrobe. Beside it, stood a thin coat rack, hanging up dad’s jacket that someone had thankfully collected.

You shuffle your feet, remembering why you were desperate to be here in the first place.

“So um, about settling in...” you trail off sheepishly.

Jareth nods, understanding without embarrassing you, “of course, I’ll leave you to it”

He moved to the door to leave when you peeped inside the wardrobe curiously, to find nothing in it.

“uh wait a second, do you have any clothes for me?”

Jareth clapped his forehead “oh right. I forgot” .

He tossed a crystal until it popped and sprang into various items of clothes, landing neatly folded on your bed.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I had to guess your sizes” .

You’d make do.

“...and the uh, is there a bathroom around here ? I could use a shower or something” you gesture to your dishevelled state, you hadn’t washed properly since before you arrived.

The idea of a hot shower sounded amazing, unlikely, but amazing.

“It’s waiting for you” he pointed at the opposite end of the room, “behind the door”

“I have my own?” your eyes follow his finger,  noticing the wooden door tucked away. How can such a cosy little place fit so much?

“that wasn’t there just a sec-”

“Things aren’t always what they seem”

The Goblin King tossed a crystal at you which you instinctively caught, and he vanished.

“why didn’t I think of that?” you mumbled with a yawn, ditching the crystal on the bed and pulling the curtains together again.

You shuck off the cloak, hanging it up next to dad’s jacket.

When you enter the ‘bathroom’,  you expect to find a dismal bucket of cold water tied to a string to douse yourself with, but to your surprise, it’s close enough to something you would expect to find in the modern houses back home.

A free standing  bath stood in the middle, with a shower behind it and on the left a mirror and sink with assorted brushes and cosmetics.

A crystal  bulb hung from the ceiling, though you guessed it was magic illuminating it , not electricity.

Bath or shower?

Shower.

You undress and hop in, turning the tap and adjusting the temperature accordingly.

Ahhh.

You notice various soaps awaiting you and pick one, reading ‘ ginger spices ’ using it to scrub profusely, almost feeling every bit of grim and dirt from the labyrinth wash away.

There was a twinning pair of shampoo and conditioner bottles that you each squeezed into your hands and lavished in your hair one after the other, filling your nose strongly of something unidentifiable but sweet.

You take your time until you feel properly cleansed.

The seal on your wrist still glowers white but the pain is completely gone.

Oh god , you let out a giggle, bouncing around the bathroom, remembering Jareth’s saliva on your skin. Did that really happen?

When you climb out your clothes are gone, replaced by two fluffy towels awaiting you, still warm as you envelope yourself in them and step out of the room feeling practically brand new.

For a minute you forget where you are and almost go to switch on your radio like you would at home when you stop yourself.

You tied the towels around you further to inspect the clothes on the bed and pick out an outfit.

You shift among the shirts and long skirts you finally find a blouse and to your relief some trousers. At least Jareth had decent taste you had to give him that. No jeans though. Sigh.

You collect the rest to put away in the wardrobe when you notice the underwear lying beside them.

They hadn’t been there earlier. He must have slipped them in.

Oh for the love of-!

You hold them distastefully by the tips of your fingers, pinkish white, lacy compared to your usual get up.

You shake the crystal, hissing into it “you’re taking the piss” as if he could hear you. You toss it back onto the bed.

You grit your teeth and slip them on anyway, cursing him under your breath, “ prick prick prick ”

They fit well. Almost too well.

You dress in the trousers and blouse , inspecting yourself in the wardrobe’s mirror.

You turn side on and lift your arms up and down. The trousers are tight like Jareth’s but not uncomfortable, you could see why he wore them so often.  

You leave your hair to dry naturally.

You sit on the corner of your new bed, instantly relaxing into it and lying on your stomach.

So this was it, your bedroom, in the castle, your new home. You re-take it all in again.

Your eyes rest on the large metallic gold clock on the wall opposite with two daggers for hands. You notice the addition of the 13th hour rather than your regular clocks at home. So strange  

Time.

Forever.

How long was forever?

What were you going to do all day now that there was no school, or responsibilities or friends...or family.

No. Stop it. Can’t think like that.

How boring would eternity get?  

You rolled over your back.

Just the concept was boggling.

What if Jareth got bored of you decided he didn't want your company anymore and cast you away?

What the hell am I even doing here?

You unhooked the window, flopping down to inhale the fresh air while marvelling at the view .

You weren’t thrilled by the circumstances of your situation, but you weren’t about to bawl your eyes out over the loss of your aunt and uncle, come on, don’t kid yourself.

You take a frilly white pillow from under your head and hold it to your chest, staring up at the ribbons and pearls hanging from the ceiling.

Your fingers dig into the pillow and you sigh.  You felt guilty for not feeling guilty. Not in the slightest. This was your adventure. Yours.

Jan would know what to do in a situation like this.

What would she make of Jareth?

At least she’d approve of the idea that you had some sort of spark with someone of the opposite sex for the first time in forever, even if he was a little older than the boys she’d tried to push you towards.

You smiled to yourself.

Oh yes, you definitely knew what Jan would say about Jareth, things that you would never ever repeat aloud. You shook your head and tutted. You found yourself agreeing with her.

You could almost hear Jan’s  tinkling laughter

“enjoy it girly!”

You were attracted to Jareth, any person with two eyes in their head would be attracted to Jareth, he only needed to smirk or make eye contact or flaunt that smarm but that didn’t mean you automatically trusted him. You barely knew him after all. Well, kind of.

Yeah, and ?

And…

You sighed, back at square one with the way you felt all over again.

If only you could phone her. But the lack of electricity had already won that battle. No more conversations with Jan, ever again.

No, nope, no more tears, you can’t change things so get on with it for god’s sake.

That’s what Jan would say, she’d take you by the shoulders and shake you:

“What’s wrong with you? You live in a castle, Slo, with a devastatingly handsome man and living in your literal dreams, you want to throw that away?” You shake your head to yourself “thanks, Jan” you mumble .

A knock at the door interrupts you

“Sloane?” Jareth pokes his head around the circular door, “did you slip down the plughole?”

you roll your eyes, locking the window again “I’m ready if that’s what you’re asking”, you ignore the sarcasm.

You see he’s changed clothing again, dressed in black and blue like the night you first met him, the tall collar emphasises his height as well as the hair.

“apparently”

The expression on his face was something you couldn’t quite read, but it had lightened.

You slip on dad's jacket "let's go".

Thankfully he uses a crystal rather than traipsing all the way back through the castle.

You blink then turn in the rising wind, finding yourself on the drawbridge outside the castle.

You crane your neck, able to see your own room’s window from here that you had been standing in moments ago.

“There’s not much of the castle to see”

Jareth admitted throwing and catching a crystal absent minded

“-so I thought we’d start here, who knows where the wind will take us”

The pair of you crossed over the bridge to potter down some steps and into the city.

_*_

You decided the Goblin City was a place you wouldn’t be frequenting often, you could see why Jareth stuck to the castle.

It was a dirty place, hardly a ‘city’, run ragged, but it was unusual, and therefore in that respect captivated your attention.

Sometimes you spotted the tail end of a creature but mostly the place was deserted.

You’d passed the odd palace guard, but apart from that, there seemed to be hardly anyone around.

Was it always this quiet? You initially got the feeling it would be a more chaotic place.

You couldn’t tell how long you’d milled around but evening looked to be approaching soon. You shoved your hands in your pockets, as Jareth filled you in on where everything was bakeries, taverns and the like.

Having felt you'd seen pretty much everything in the city, t he pair of you began to circle back towards the castle, narrowly avoiding the awkwardness of seeing the ending of the Labyrinth at the gates of the Goblin City.  

The castle’s windows were lit up in yellow torchlight.  

You reach the drawbridge, making your way inside again, approaching the hubbub from inside.

“It must be rammed in there” you say more to yourself as the noise of voices and cries grow louder with every step.

“Goblins” Jareth bobbed his head nonplussed at the calamity.

" goblins ?" you repeat dryly following behind uncertainly “what are they still doing here?”

The door swings open inviting an uproar of noises.  

You clap your hands over your ears “ jesus god”  

but it did nothing to muffle the whoops of laughter and racket of things either being dropped or launched into the walls.

The goblins were chasing round the room, singing out of unison or irritating chickens. Chickens?

Jareth did nothing to stop them as you had initially thought he would. Rather in fact, than thundering and silencing the room, he seemed entertained by the ruckus.

He laughed throwing back his head, then ducking without blinking as a rock was launched in the air.

He flopped onto the round seat you’d seen earlier, throwing a leg over the side and just laughed more though you didn’t get the joke.  

“you don’t mind?” you cried to be heard over the noise, sitting on the steps leading up to be what you imagined what his throne, since they didn’t look too dirty.

He shrugged, watching them, tapping a staff against his boot “it’s fun”

“fun?”

clearly you both had different ideas of fun .

How he put up with this you did not know.

The mess they’d surely make...you’d taken Jareth for a spick-and-span, silent, strict guy.

A merry goblin whizzed past with a red flag bobbing  up and down, attached to its little helmet that covered its face.

Jareth had a drink in his hand that you hadn’t spotted until a second ago.

He caught your glance “like to try some?” he held out his own cup to you

“what is it?” you take a sip

Jareth rolled his eyes “apple juice”

You swallowed and then shuddered at the foul taste, pushing the cup away “ugh that’s disgusting”

“it’s not for it’s pleasantness believe me”

“I’ll stick to the water, thanks” the glass appeared in your hand.

“to the latest Underground citizen” he raised his cup at you in a toasting fashion

“to me”

_*_

The one thing you noticed was that the singing didn’t stop. Jareth even left the throne and began merrily clapping his hands to a tune or two making you giggle. Maybe he wasn’t such the stoic character you’d taken him for in the Labyrinth.

Although it was total and utter chaos , you found yourself fascinated even if the goblins were obviously stupid.

Real life goblins.

That part still you couldn’t get over.

Strange,  they seemed totally juvenile, not cunning and devious, not likely to eat children or guard bridges like the books said. Or was that trolls? More or less the same thing, right?

You sighed, realising this was the kind of thing you’d have to get used to thinking through. And I thought talking to a bird was crazy

Another thing you noticed was the odd amount of clocks all shapes and sizes dotted around the throne room, all reading different times. Every now and then one or two hands would creep forwards or even backwards .

Would it be the same time at home? Was the Underground like Australia or something, different time zones? Or would it be the same as it was in England but like an alternative universe whatnot?

You’d already yawned into your elbow twice and was ready to call it a night, enough education for one day.

You sneakily creep out of the throne room without interrupting the “fun” . Jareth would have probably convinced you to stay longer anyway and you could barely keep your eyes open to continue to watch the charade as it is.

Besides, the new bed’s call was strong.

The aimless wandering of the Goblin City had worn you down thoroughly, it was a wonder how you managed a whole day of classes once upon a time.

At least tonight you’d sleep well.

Your footsteps echo down the corridor. By some miracle, you began to recall your steps from earlier this morning. Not so difficult after all.

You pass a black clock, telling you it was almost midnight.

You climb the stairs, trailing your hand up the banister sleepily. You pad along to the hallway coming to rest at your round door, closing it behind you softly.

With a low groan, you flop onto the chair  at the desk. You prise off your shoes and gazing out the grand window at the rising smoke from the chimneys in the Goblin City.

Further beyond that you could see tiny lights in the Labyrinth, candles perhaps? Though who could be lighting them though, or what rather.

You shivered and swiftly closed the curtains, grabbing what you assumed were your pyjamas from the drawers.

You crack your back, loosening your trousers .

The door swings open, bumping against the wall, making you jump out of your skin

“what the-”  You hurriedly yanked your trousers up .

Jareth staggered in, singing under his breath, he moved to the coat rack to lean against it, giggling slightly. His eyes fell on you , unfocused, and grinned.

“Good evening Ms. Hay…Hazel…well this is a nice turn of events” he giggled again.

“Jareth? What are you talking about” you sigh, buttoning your trousers discreetly, “look I had a nice day and it was cool to see the goblins but I’m shattered, okay?”

“You…in my chamber no less” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively and you folded your arms, not in the mood for his games again.

“you’re in my room actually” you gestured to the walls around you “remember?”

“Oh” the goblin king nodded to himself and then squinted around in the lack of light.

“ah. I thought…the colours were different”. he frowned, rubbing his temple “I must’ve spelled m’yself to the wrong chamber”

"Well you can just spell yourself out again. Wait, are you…” you notice that he seemed to sway backwards and forwards on his feet.

“...are you drunk ?" you ask, but you were not, in fact, surprised to say the least.

His hand slips from his hold on the coat rack  and you automatically stepped up to catch him in time from falling flat on his face “woah, careful!”

He laughs over you and you catch the strong sense of alcohol on his breath, face inches from yours.

you pull back wrinkling your nose “you are drunk”  

He gave you cheeky, hazy smile. He looked up at you under his lashes  “merely had a cup or two…”

“I doubt that “

You struggle in his sloppiness to keep him upright.

You sigh, maneuvering him so that his arm was slung over your shoulder whilst you kept your own around his waist.

This was the first time you’d held him so close since the ballroom.

Jareth looked down at you with a conflicted expression, trying to clear something in his mind or making up his mind whether to say it.

“My rose,” he lamented, “do you forgive me?” he couldn’t look you in the eye partly because he couldn’t focus properly or most likely the guilt that was scrawled across his face.

“Forgive you” you say drily “for what?”

“For everything…thi-this whole, wretch…wre...wretched business” he slurs hiding his face in his elbow miserably.

Despite the awkwardness of trying to keep him upright in his theatrics, you smile at the irony of it all, if only he was sober enough to hear himself.

You give a chuckle at the thought , would sober Jareth be horrified with his inebriated softie self?

“You’re laughing at me!” he says, hurt. “Are my feelings funny to you? My sincerity a joke?” he sneered

“No!  I was- look , I forgive you okay? Now will you just sit down ” you helped him to sit on the chair with a thud.

You assess the situation, wanting desperately to kick him out and crawl into bed but the way he kept slipping from being upright without your support ate at your morals.

“I can’t let you leave like this , knowing you you’d probably spell yourself into the Bog and drown or break your neck down the stairs”

Jareth giggles, slumping across the desk and you ran a hand down your face .  “fine. fine you can stay, you absolute mess”

In the light spilling in through the curtain’s crack you can see he looks like a wreck, hair matted, make-up smudged across his face.

“Wait there-”

You dash to the bathroom picking up your brush and returning.

You pull him up again to his confusion and begin to drag the brush through the long knotted mess “jesus what did you do?” you mumble.  You hold it by the ends so it wouldn’t pull on him.

“i would give you coffee, or something to sober you up with, but I doubt you have that lying around here”

He watched you intensely in the mirror on the desk, never blinking or taking his eyes from you.

“you always take care of me” he says quietly, in a half confused, half statemented tone.

You tip up a smile “did I have a choice in either situation? The Goblin King isn’t so high and mighty after all” you bring the brush up again then sweeping it down.  

“you take care of me” he repeated “always”.

Your eyes met in the mirror and you stop brushing.

You hum under your breath, shaking off the stare

“you have nice hair”  

You ran a hand through it experimentally, making him shiver violently .

Jareth pushed himself up, or tried to, clumsy and uncoordinated under the influence of the alcohol.

Despite your weak attempts to keep him in place he was stronger than he looked and  managed to stand momentarily before sprawling forward over you again.

"Why do you hate me Sloane?" He asked, his face within inches of yours. "I only wanted to make you happy."

“I don’t hate you” you huff under his pressing weight to seat him on the foot of the bed

“you just-“ you  huff “-have a funny way of doing things”  

You lean him up against the post of the bed but he loses balance and instead falls flat on his back onto the bed.

You try to pull him up again but you’re not strong enough and just leave him.

So much for sleeping. Your legs were killing you after all the walking

“Scooch over” you motion, and plopped yourself down on your bed that he was currently hogging

“that's more like it," Jareth giggled.

On his back, looking so vulnerable and exposed, he looks angelic, hair spread out around him. His eyes slide open catching your staring and smirks. Of course he smirks.

“Won’t you kiss me goodnight?” he said, playful look in his eye “just a little one”

You didn’t mean to keep appealing to his ego and inwardly cursed yourself.

“I don’t think so” you raise your eyebrows “just because you’re drunk and helpless doesn’t mean I have amnesia”

“Ah ha! What a little liar!” he whoops “I think someone’s just a chicken” Jareth teases making clucking noises

“Oh really, you’re going with that one”

“Chicken it is then,” He says provokingly in a sing song voice.

Jareth continues to make the stupid noises and even the wing movement, still lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

“ wrong ” You protest, voice wavering but it only amuses him further “that’s- that's just cheap.”

“Chicken, cheap,” he giggles like a child.

The Goblin King manages to lie on his side, resting his head on a pillow he had his arm looped around, facing you.

You subconsciously hugged your arms more tightly to yourself, as if doing so could fend off his brazen gaze. A gaze that kept shamelessly lowering  and making your heart speed.

“You know, it is high treason to refuse your king” he winks .

The smooth fucker, even when drunk he manages to be flawless in a kind of rough around the edges way.

You threw back your head laughing at his typical self, flopping against the pillows on your back beside him.

Jareth suddenly rolls over on you in a flash, as he slid an arm around your waist catching you off guard. His body pinning you down having you completely cornered.

“What are you-“

“I can see you want it,” his hand cupping your cheek, you flush deeply having nowhere else to look or escape.

“that tell-tale breathing, that flush on your chest, the shifting-” he pushes the tip of his nose into your throat making your breath hitch, trailing down to the base .

“No” you breathe but your mind had other ideas, clouding your judgement Yes! Yes! apparently so did your own body by its burning response down there.  

“ No ,” you repeat more forcefully liar liar .

You push him off gently but you still can't shake the intensity of that look “You’re-I’m- you’re drunk”

The Goblin King gave a lopsided grin “very well” and removed his hands immediately and rolling back over to put them behind his head, nestling his face sleepily in the crook of his elbow.

What the hell was that.

You’re not sure who the question is aimed at.

You part your mouth to say something then close it, and then part it again.

You sit up , leaning on your elbow to stare at him. Jareth hummed under his breath, blinking a few times at the ceiling hazily.

You sigh.  oh what the hell

“It’s not like you’ll remember it anyway”

Before you even know what you’re doing or change your mind, you lean in, heart thudding and pull him in by the jacket lapels.

Jareth seems to spring out of his drunken state, suddenly fully awake and eagerly aims for your mouth, but you turn your head so he only snags your cheek.

You still manage to catch the warmth of his breath and the tip of his soft lips.

You draw away, but he removes his hands from behind his head to cling to your forearms pulling you in closer for more.

“ohhhh no, uh-uh!” you laughed wriggling away from his wandering hands. You push his head back onto the pillows.

Jareth can’t fight back, too inebriated and pouts against the plush cushion with his arms folded    “ ’snot fair” he mumbles.

You can’t help but giggle at his sulky state “good night you royal pain in the arse”. You pull the cover over him.

“Mmmf” he rubs his eyes and turns over.

You shake your head and it’s not long before he’s snoring.

You sigh, no bed for you tonight.  

You manage to whip off a blanket from under his leg and tug one of the pillows out from underneath him forcefully.

He’s spread himself diagonally, giving you little to no room left so you settle for the floor. At least the rug is thick.

It’s not ideal, but did you have much choice?  

You close your eyes, begging for sleep after an exhausting day.

The noise startles you.

What in the hell

It was Jareth’s snores. Oh for the love of-

You clap your hands over your ears. This couldn’t be happening. Why is it so loud!

You lie on your side, firmly closing your eyes hoping to just drift off  but the snoring is relentless.

“ Jareth for fuck’s sake ” you say aloud

you imagine stuffing one of the pillows in his mouth. Ugh! Would it be wrong to shove him off and pretend he rolled over too far in his sleep? No you couldn’t, that would be so mean, those stones would hurt.

Cosmic! Just cosmic!

#Labyrinth #labyrinth fanfiction #Jareth x Reader #Labyrinth 1986 #reader insert #jareth the goblin king #jareth labyrinth

[anasticklefics]

The In Between

Fandom: Good Omens

Characters: Crowley/Aziraphale (very pre-slash, thanks Aziraphale)

Summary: They meet at the in betweens - between the beginning and the end - and yet Aziraphale refuses to acknowledge what they’ve been through. It hurts Crowley more than he can explain.

Words: 1 284

They met at the start of the world, and they met at the potential end. But during the in between, they did more than meet.

Crowley had accepted that Aziraphale refused to acknowledge the in between when they met again during emergencies, but he remembered. He remembered the walks along the Nile, watching Egypt thrive. Cleopatra’s reign, the fall of the Roman Empire, the Vikings taking over the sea. He was there for all of them, sometimes with Aziraphale at his side, the latter frowning or smiling depending on what part of history they were witnessing.

Crowley remembered the meals shared in small taverns on Greek side streets, both remembering when those lands were a battlefield.

“I talked to Homer once, you know,” Azi had said, his eyes on the cobblestone. “I asked him to write it all down.”

They met on the mountainside in China, took a short trip through Mogadishu, once had lunch in Moscow. On one particularly rough night they stayed at a motel in California, like some sort of cliché. But he remembered the week in Bolivia the most. They truly had had no reason to stay a week. Aziraphale had already purchased his bookstore at that point, and yet they’d stayed, in a small town up north.

Much had been said during that week. Too much, Crowley decided when Azi refused to act on it once they’d left. Maybe he hadn’t understood what Crowley had meant when he’d said that he could spend the rest of eternity by his side and not once be unhappy. Maybe Crowley had been too forward, but come on, they’d known each other at least 5000 years at that point.

“You go too fast for me, Crowley,” Azi said many years later, the two in Crowley’s car. Maybe that was true, but Satan help him if he had to slow down to Azi’s snail pace anytime soon.

Yeah, he was bitter. Bitter that only he seemed to remember the in between.

Usually, they met in London. On a park bench, having ice cream or coffee or nothing, and then sharing a meal at whatever restaurant Aziraphale led them to. But Crowley’s mind was still in that motel in Bolivia, tucked between the sheets in the dimly lit room with only one bed. Silk pyjamas even in the heat, the TV on way past their bedtime. No reason to stay, finding many reasons to leave, and yet staying anyway.

For years, Crowley would return, without Aziraphale, just to make sure the place had been real. He even shed a tear, when he returned one day to find it gone. Demolished. An earthquake or an accident or a thoroughly thought through decision to let that part of the village go.

He never told Azi about all of this. Had had his heart, or whatever the demon equivalent to it was, broken too many times when Aziraphale pretended not to remember. Made light of the whole thing. He would never understand it.

“I don’t even like you.”

“Way to go, angel,” he’d wanted to say. “You’ve discovered how to kill a demon without holy water.”

And then they’d saved the world, and with Aziraphale’s bookshop burnt to the ground he’d had no choice but to come spend the night at Crowley’s.

“You can have the bed,” he told him. “I’ve passed out on the couch more times than I can count anyway.”

“I can’t possibly kick you out of your own bed, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, appalled.

“And I can’t put a guest with nowhere to go on my shitty couch.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to share the bed then.”

Crowley blinked, once, twice, took off his sunglasses as if he’d hear him more clearly without them. “You want to share a bed?”

Aziraphale wasn’t looking at him. “I see no reason why not.”

“You’ll pretend it didn’t happen tomorrow,” Crowley didn’t say aloud. “You always do.”

Nothing would happen. Nothing happened in Bolivia, apart from words. It was enough for him. Always had been. Aziraphale padded across the room, slid in under the covers beside him, and Crowley felt the sadness engulf him. Aziraphale’s sadness for the bookshop. The inevitable consequences. Their ineffable situations.

Crowley shut his eyes, willing sleep to come quickly. Unable to stand another moment of Azi’s weight beside him without any proper contact. 6000 years of this. 6000 years of Aziraphale pretending they weren’t friends. 6000 years of Crowley pretending he didn’t care after each rebuke.

He cared so much it almost broke him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you grieve for your car,” Aziraphale suddenly said, his voice so low Crowley might’ve imagined it.

He opened his eyes again, turning his head to see the vague outline of his one companion. Aziraphale wasn’t looking at him, as far as he could tell.

“It wasn’t the time,” Crowley replied. “Much more critical matters to take care of.”

“Still. It was unfair of me to dismiss your feelings.”

“Is this about your bookshops?”

Aziraphale exhaled slowly. “I’m being selfish. I only realized your pain once I was going through it myself.” He turned toward him, rolling onto his side so that their faces were almost touching. “I’m gonna go visit it tomorrow. Say a proper goodbye. If you want I can go with you to the Air Force and do the same to your car.”

Crowley didn’t dare move. “I’ve made my peace.”

“You haven’t.”

“Since when are you an expert on my feelings?”

“Can’t you see, you silly demon?” Aziraphale was smiling. Crowley could hear it in his voice. “I always was.”

6000 years for that acknowledgment. 6000 years of stolen in between’s.

Crowley didn’t know what to do with this moment now. He felt damn near close to exploding.

“Can I hold your hand?” Aziraphale finally asked. “Just this once?”

“I’m not letting you hold anything if you’re only gonna do it once,” was Crowley’s reply, and Aziraphale laughed and laughed and clutched at his fingers, the contact so sudden Crowley nearly withdrew.

“So needy.” Azi gave his hand a squeeze. “You were always so needy.”

Crowley had to admit moments like this weren’t anywhere near his area of expertise so, naturally, he panicked; thinking a poke to Azi’s side was the appropriate response.

Oh, but Aziraphale’s response was definitely one for the books.

“6000 years and I find out you’re ticklish now.”

“It’s my vessel-”

“Which you’ve had since we first met.”

“Oh, come on now, don’t do anything drastic.”

“When have I ever done anything drastic, angel?”

“Do I really need to answer that- wait!”

Crowley never expected his first proper contact with Aziraphale to be due to a sensitive vessel, but he’d take anything he was given. To hear his laughter wasn’t too shabby either, he had to admit. Sitting up so that he could trap him against the mattress more effectively, Crowley let his fingers spider up Azi’s sides.

He hadn’t tickled many people (or any), but he’d seen it happen on both screens and in front of him, and when he expected Aziraphale to kick out and try to get away, he found him merely squirming. Giggling, yes - which was wonderful, shh - but other than his body’s automatic response he didn’t seem to be suffering too much at Crowley’s hands.

Huh. That was a first.

“Stop it,” he pleaded anyway, gripping one of Crowley’s wrists, but doing nothing to push it off.

“Can’t handle it, angel?”

“Don’t be mean!”

“I’m a demon.”

“You’re a softie- ah, no!”

“That’s for the insult.”

The night turned out to be much easier than they’d expected. A good way to prepare for the hardships of the next day, Crowley decided.

#tickling #tickle fic #ticklish!aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable husbands fic #crowley/aziraphale #mine #the in between #ana's fics #good omens

[heroacademiasstuff]

safe and sound

Shouta would prefer to lick his wounds in peace. Toshinori disagrees.

Also available on my ao3 account dolphins.

Darkness spilled out into the halls like clumping tarmac, coagulating in the corners and making the shadows sticky and ominous. Aizawa began his retreat to his room in the dorms- a slow, steady, but agonising pace. A midnight patrol gone badly led to an altercation with a villain with a knife quirk- blood flooding the streets and unfortunately he had been nicked and bruised once or twice before the bandit had been securely restrained.

It comforted him, in a way, to return here rather than to the empty stillness of his own apartment. Fans whirled in the student's bedrooms, snores echoed, and sleep-talkers muffled voices filled up the silence. A single, flickering bulb lit up the kitchen. Probably one of the students were up for a drink of water or a late night snack. He shouldn't be seen in a state like this but it was his responsibility to shoo them back to bed, so he trailed his way there, muscles screaming out in pain.

"Aizawa-kun?" Bright, owlish blue eyes blinked back at him, taking his regular heartbeat in the process and adrenaline shot right into his weakened veins. "Oh God," Toshinori rushed to him, abandoning whatever he had been doing in haste. Tea dripped town the edge of the counter and Aizawa felt an oily liquid spill down his face.

"What happened?" Aizawa slapped his worried hand away, sharp and flinching. So catlike, Toshinori mused, a wounded animal always needed to bury away and lick its wounds. However, his colleague and newly-formed, tentative friend was no such creature.

"Bad incident on patrol, please don't concern yourself with me, Yagi-san," he made way to leave the room but was stopped by a bony hand gripping him with an unusual strength. Pleading eyes, concern pooling into the molecules around them, he stopped.

"You're bleeding, let me take a look," Toshinori noted the slice above his eyebrow, red rivulet reaching his chin; black clothes ripped and probably stained. How the man was still standing he had no idea.

"I don't need your help." Aizawa spat, reeling away from the unwanted touch. This sort of thing came with the job. Besides, it wasn't like he wasn't used to a couple of scratches and bruises. "Go back to sleep and stop being such a mother hen."

Frowning, Toshinori edged back, allowed the man to make a few more staggered steps until he caved. Aizawa too, by the looks of things. He had the door frame gripped tight in one bruised fist, bent over to catch his breath, gasping like a chainsmoker. It wasn't as though either of them were going to get any sleep now. Sighing, Toshinori went to him, grabbing him gently around the waist to prop him up.

"Fuck... off," he spat, wheezing a little around the edges, dissolving most of the heat there. Unimpressed, Toshinori ignored him and led him into the bathroom, propping him down on the closed toilet and leaving him to lock the door.

"Stop being stubborn," he eyed him warily, opening up the small cabinet for a first-aid kit. Thankfully finding one with the items he needed. Surprisingly enough, what with all the accident-prone teenagers running around. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. You need to be able to accept help sometimes."

"You are such a hypocrite." Aizawa hissed and wiped his face with a worn sleeve, anger flicking away at his frayed nerves. Edging further into his body until his muscles were straining against their bruises and wounds. "Stomping around campus in that hulk of body, even though it's killing you."

"You have no idea what you're talking about, Aizawa-kun, so don't try to make assumptions." Toshinori should have thrown the first-aid kit at his head and told him to do it himself, but he knew this was just his colleague lashing out because it was all getting a little bit personal. "Show me your torso, if you have any serious wounds I have to call for Recovery Girl."

"I didn't realise you were that way inclined, Yagi-san," Aizawa spat, reeling at the hands edged at the bottom of his shirt. "Although I should have known, what with all those vague interviews in your youth."

Toshinori sighed. What a tiresome man. "Be quiet and just allow me to help you."

In that moment, Aizawa grabbed at his head, the room a swirling tornado before him. Toshinori gaped as his colleague threw up the remainder of his stomach contents all over his lap, and the other set of hands still dumbly holding the edge of his shirt. Coughing brutally, a whisper of a sob shattered Toshinori's heart into a million, tiny pieces.

Harsh knocks sounded at the door.

"Sensei?"

Two startled pairs of eyes met and Toshinori rushed to the door, wiping his hands on his baggy shirt. Greeted by a frantic mop of curly hair, Midoriya stood in his All Might pyjamas, worried frown set between his eyebrows.

"I heard noise, is everything okay? It sounded like someone was being sick."

Toshinori rested a hand on his shoulder, breathing out a sigh. "My stomach is playing up a bit, nothing to worry about young Midoriya. However, you shouldn't be up this late at night. If your mother knew she would have my head on a spike."

Midoriya eyed him warily, "Are you sure you're okay? Maybe I can get you some water or-"

"Nonsense," Toshinori waved off his concern like a buzzing wasp, "Hush your worries and get back to bed. You'll have a tough morning if you don't get the appropriate rest."

Nodding in agreement, and fully assured that his mentor was indeed alright and not going to keel over on the spot, Midoriya left him to it and a sigh blew from Toshinori's decrepit lungs. Entering the bathroom once more and locking the door, he looked up to Aizawa trying and failing to dap at himself with crumpled up toilet paper. Humiliated at losing his composure in front of a colleague, he was clutching at straws in attempt to rectify the situation

"Hey, hey- don't worry about that!" Toshinori slapped it gently from his frantic hands. Startled, Aizawa blinked up at him. "It is better just to take those off, I will find you fresh clothes."

"I'm sorry I threw up," Aizawa muttered, reddish tinge to his face, tone softening slightly. "I guess I was running on adrenaline before, the pain hadn't really properly hit until now."

"Don't apologise, I understand. Many of nights I have finished a fight high on adrenaline, only to come down hours later feeling as though I'd been hit by a truck," he chuckled lightly, peeling back the soiled clothing with Aizawa's reluctant assistance. Red lines marked his chest and stomach- superficial wounds but would need cleaned nonetheless. Trousers abandoned in an embarrassing pile on the floor, Aizawa allowed his colleague to examine the dark bruising and cuts marring the skin. Again, harsh and painful, but nothing that would require stitches, thankfully.

"Do you think you could manage a shower?" Toshinori rubbed the back of his neck, ears hot and eyes pointed to everything except for the half-naked man in front of him. Aizawa was no better.

Huffing his disapproval, Aizawa let out an unimpressed grunt. Toshinori took that as a no and left to get some fresh clothes. Scrambling in his wardrobe, he returned with a large shirt, mainly used for sleeping in his All Might form, baggy shorts, and a couple of wash cloths.

"Stop looking so embarrassed." Toshinori muttered, running the wash cloths under the hot tap, wringing them out and leaving them at the side. Aizawa rolled his eyes, scratching at the drying blood on his stubble.

Beginning the slow process of washing away the dried and still-dripping blood, Toshinori supposed the best way to handle this would be to keep the lines of communication open, so as to make the situation less awkward for both. Thankfully the man looked slightly better with the blood washed off his face so Toshinori began his chest, blushing like a schoolgirl the entire time. It was weird being so close to someone where you could feel their body heat. Practically scorching.

"Are you okay?" he asked, focusing his eyes on a particularly tender-looking cut. A villain with that kind of quirk would have been absolutely terrifying. One wrong move and your arteries would be spurting.

"Fine. Why?" Aizawa practically growled out, hiding the hisses of pain between his teeth, probably feeling all kinds of shame and embarrassment. Still tensed up like a hunted animal, it was unlikely he was going to be feeling at ease any time soon.

"You experienced a traumatic attack, it is understandable if you're feeling shaken, or- or upset," Toshinori ignored the screams in his head that demanded he stop, that insisted this was far too personal, of how he was treading the dainty line between professional friendliness and personal caring very, very finely. A juggling act he edged upon daily.

Aizawa practically snorted. "After all these years, do you think a shrimp like that, with a flashy quirk, would be enough to traumatise me?" Ignoring Toshinori's mouth opening and shutting like a dumb fish, he continued with a slight smirk. "I've had takeout food more traumatizing than that."

Moving to his legs, Toshinori pointedly ignored this entire situation. If the very notion that he was currently touching another human's legs so tentatively and caring even dared to cross his mind, his head would probably splatter into a brainy mess along the walls. "I think you are downplaying how you feel," he said carefully, edging around the topic as delicately as though tip-toeing on thin ice, crocodiles and sharks snapping below.

"I don't need whatever it is you're trying to do, Yagi-san. I don't need to talk, or you to comfort me, or anything. I just need to sleep."

Finishing up his cleaning, he grabbed antiseptic gel and dabbed it over the wounds, the stink of it making his eyes water. Aizawa's eyes were welling up also, but probably not because of the smell. Swallowing, Toshinori nodded and continued dutifully. The gel hitting his thigh made Aizawa practically flinch.

"Sorry, I know it hurts. Just say if I am being too heavy handed." Toshinori hushed, guilt nipping away at his guts. Piranhas. Gently finishing up, he covered the wounds with small plasters, shielding them with any bacteria or dust that might find their way in over night.

"It's okay. I suppose I should thank you for your help," Aizawa admitted, rubbing at his neck and doing all kinds of flipping, somersault things to Toshinori's heart. "I'm glad it was you that found me, of all people."

"Hm?"

The unspoken groan resonated between them as Aizawa reluctantly answered. "You make less of a deal out of things than Hizashi or Nemuri would," he shrugged, as much as he screaming shoulders would let him. A tedious effort.

Chuckling ever so slightly, Toshinori felt the ghost of a smile flicker along his closed lips. "I'm not quite sure if that's a good thing, Aizawa-kun." A scold.

Throwing the t-shirt gently over Aizawa's shoulder, he coaxed hands through the holes and watched as it comically swallowed him up. Much too big and slightly endearing. The shorts fit a lot better, hugging his thighs wonderfully. Toshinori tore his eyes away, cheeks growing noticeably hotter.

Standing abruptly, "I should get you some water or something- f-for the shock!"

Aizawa grabbed at his leg. "No. I just need to sleep it off. Help me to my room, please."

The thought of Aizawa returning to his room alone, aching in pain and coming down from the adrenaline did strange things to his tummy. It was a ridiculous idea, but one that came to his mouth before his brain properly filtered out the repercussions.

"You can stay in my room," Toshinori blurted out. "It's closer and I have a Western-style bed you can sleep on. I can use the futon- that way if you need anything in the night, someone will be close at hand."

Aizawa brow quirked, "I won't need anything. It's okay. I wouldn't want to put you out of your bed." His face showed the cogwheels turning behind his eyes, mulling over the possibilities strategically. God, Toshinori envied that ability, rather than just jumping in heart first. "People might get the wrong idea if they see us sharing the same bedroom," he added, finger running along the plaster above his eyebrow. Soon there wouldn't be any more space for more scars.

Toshinori shrugged. "Allow them."

Heat swarmed his face once more as the implications returned. Flustering, "I- I mean, no one would have to know. I will ensure the upmost secrecy." Surprising them both, Aizawa let out a soft snort, a playful little sound of amusement.

"Okay then," he nodded, the 'you idiot' going unspoken.

Helping the man to his room was no easy task, navigating the various obstacles placed around the living area of the dorms with complete silence, as well as securing another person's body weight that was much heavier than your own. However, Toshinori enjoyed a good challenge and reaped the rewards when Aizawa was safe and secure in his bed, snorting at Toshinori's stuffed penguin between the pillows.

"It was a gift from a student!" He defended himself with little success. Midoriya had won it on a claw machine during an outing with his mother. Touching that he has chosen to gift it to his mentor, Toshinori treasured the little thing and it gave him a small comfort on lonely nights.

"You baby," Aizawa huffed out, despite the fact that his eyes were already beginning to close on their own accord. Tired, aching body sinking into the mattress like melting butter on fresh bread. Toshinori rooted around in his bedside locker, placing painkillers down beside a glass of water before heading to sleep on the futon himself.

Heart stilling finally, he sank down to sleep, early morning light barely flickering in between the slots of the blinds. His eyes drifting with the metronome of another's snores.

#erasermight #eraserhead #erasermight fic #toshinori yagi #all might #bnha fic #mha fic #aizawa shouta

[askthedustbowl]

do they give each other hickies and if so who gives/receives and what are the muses reactions ?? (i hc eurydice gives them to orpheus but i’m curious to know what y’all think)

Oh you know Eurydice likes to give Orpheus hickeys. The first time it happened though... oof that was an experience.

Orpheus was watching the movie. He swore — he was paying attention up until he felt her fingers on his arm. She was touching him gently, but he could feel her eyes on him too. Eurydice and Orpheus were curled up together on the big chair she had in the corner of her apartment, her legs thrown over his, and her back against the arm of the chair. Some cooking show was playing on her laptop as they sat together, but while he was still watching, her attention waned.

Her fingers intertwined with his and she leaned in, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“Orpheus,” she whispered, her lips against his arm, pressing kisses against his shoulder, working her way up and across his collarbone.

“Mmhmm?” He mumbled, trying to make it seem like he was still focused on the screen, when all of his focus was on the way her skin felt against his.

He could feel her smile against his skin for a moment before she shifted, moving to sit in his lap. His arms went around her, as if second nature to want to hold her close, to keep her steady. He clasped his hands behind her and rested them on the small of her back. “Has anyone...” she trailed off, pressing a kiss to his jawline, tugging a little on his bandana.

He bit his lip and his eyes fluttered a little, his attention entirely on the way her lips felt as they explored his jaw, on the feeling of her tugging him closer. She started to undo the banana and he squeezed her waist.

“H-has anyone what?” He asked, a little breathless. He could feel her smile, feel a little puff of air against his neck as she laughed, pulling the bandana off his neck, and dropping it behind the chair. She pulled back to look at him, bringing one hand up to cup his cheek.

She looked at him with a mix of stars and hazy lust in her eyes, and he looked back at her, his eyes bright, wide and fluttery. She smiled at him pressing her mouth against his for a moment. This he knew how to do. He knew how to kiss her, how to meet her where she was. Their kisses were like waltzes and he was the greatest partner she had ever had. When she pulled away his eyes were half shut. She smirked and stuck to her original plan.

“Has anyone ever given you a hickey?” He blinked at her and, half afraid of what his voice would sound like, simply shook his head. It must have been the right answer because Eurydice’s eyes lit up and she went back to kissing his jaw, sucking slightly at points. But it was when her lips found the spot on his neck that she loved, he understood what she was doing.

Oh. Oh.

Orpheus’ head fell back, and his grip on Eurydice tightened. She relaxed into his frame and continued sucking on that one spot on his neck, just relishing in Orpheus’ uneven breathing. She alternated between pressing open mouth kisses across his neck, hot and gentle, and pulling sections of his neck between her lips. When she used her teeth the first time, just nipping him slightly, she won the jackpot.

She heard his breath hitch, before a soft moan found its way out of his lips. She smiled against his skin, her semi assault on his neck not faltering. Hearing him moan, hearing him speak his pleasure into existence using that damn voice of his was something that affected her in ways she had never been affected before. She felt like she had won a prize every time she was able to elicit a moan like that — full bodied, honest, and just a little broken.

She spent more time than she would have liked to admit with her mouth on his neck. By the time she was ready to move on, Orpheus had moved from moaning, to whimpering, her name frequently crossing his lips. When she sat back on his legs, she was able to admire her handy-work — eight or nine little love marks, blooming the softest shades of lilac and rose on his pale skin. She knew from experience that tomorrow they would be violet, magenta, but she had taken enough care to place them in the direct path of the bandana he wore everyday.

He felt her lean back and his head rolled to the side. His eyes were needy, his lips red from where he had been biting them. He looked positively radiant — this unconventional mix of soft and sharp. Like he wanted nothing more than for her to continue doing whatever she wanted to him. No, with him. She might have staked her claim on him, her little signatures peppering his neck, but this was their dance.

“Eurydice,” he said, his voice thick, catching in his throat. She smiled brightly, leaning in to kiss him gently for just a moment.

“Take me to bed, Poet,” she said, pulling back from their kiss just enough to whisper against his lips. He nodded and wrapped his hands around her thighs, shifting to stand, with her wrapped around him. He held her close to him, his forehead against hers, as he carried her the few steps to her bed.

* * *

Orpheus woke up to the incessant vibrating of his phone. Eurydice was curled into his chest, his front pressed against her back, and he so didn’t want to move her from her position. She looked so peaceful, sleeping in his shirt, hands gripping the blanket.  And so he tried to ignore it, instead choosing to wipe the sleep from his eyes and lay back down. The phone kept buzzing. And buzzing. Soon enough it woke Eurydice from her sleep. She whined and turned in his arms, pressing her face against his chest.

“Make it stop, Poet,” she murmured, sleep mingling with annoyance in her voice. He pressed a kiss to her head and reached over to grab the phone, answering the call without looking to see who it was.

“Hello?” he whispered, not wanting to disturb Eurydice any more than he already had. He felt her curl into him further, her head finding its way under his chin as she held him close to her.

“Oh my god,” he could hear laughter from the other end of the phone. Thalia. “We’ve woken Romeo!”

“Thalia?” Orpheus murmured, confused as to why his aunt was calling him. And even more confused as to why he could hear two or three sets of laughs in the background.

“Hey Kiddo, did you forget you were coming with us for brunch so that we could plan for Euterpe’s birthday?” Orpheus’ eye widened at that, his body tensing up and alerting Eurydice to the fact that something was wrong.

“Oh, Thalia, I’m so sorry, I-I-I got distracted last night and—“ Orpheus removed himself from Eurydice’s grasp, much to her annoyance. She growled low in her throat as he got out of bed, but her frustration quickly turned to annoyance, and sadness, as she lost the warmth of her Orpheus.

“It’s okay, Kiddo. I texted Hermes and he gave me Eurydice’s address. Urania, Cory, and Erato are with me, and we’re meeting Poly there. We’re outside Eurydice’s building now.”

“I’ll be down in two seconds, I promise! Wait for me!” He said, searching for his clothes on the floor, throwing on whatever he could find.

“We will,” he heard Thalia chuckle before hanging up.

“Wanna tell me what that was about?” Eurydice said, sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes. Orpheus was frantically looking around for his shirt until Eurydice spoke, and when he looked up at her, he was greeted with a vision.

Eurydice’s hair was messy, her bangs flying out in all directions. Her eyes, soft and sleepy, held worry in them as she looked to him for an answer. His t-shirt was hanging off her shoulders and Orpheus hated the next thing he said before it even came out of his mouth.

“That was Thalia. I forgot I was meeting her this morning. She’s outside. I need my shirt back.”

Eurydice looked taken aback for a moment, frozen. Of all the things she was expecting to hear come out of Orpheus’ mouth, those four short sentences were maybe the most unexpected. She must have stalled for a moment too long, because Orpheus moved from the end of her bed up to sit beside her.

“‘Rydice, they’re downstairs. I’m so sorry but I need to go,” Eurydice nodded, pulling his shirt over her head, leaving her only in her lace bralette and thin pyjama shorts. He leaned in to kiss her quickly, gently cupping her cheek, before pulling his shirt over his head. It was then that she noticed the problem.

“Shit, Orpheus,” she said as he leant down to pull his shoes on. “Orpheus, you need your bandana, where is it?”

“Eurydice it’s fine I don’t need it, I’ve already made them wait long enough.” Eurydice shook her head, looking at the damage she had done to his collarbone and his neck the night before. Oh gods he’s going to see his aunts like this.

“No no no, Poet, I think you should find that bandana,” she said, a sense of dread creeping into her voice. She moved to get out of bed, but Orpheus just brushed her off, instead coming closer to her. He gently placed a hand on her waist, and out of habit she put her hand on his cheek, as he leaned in again to kiss her softly.

“I’ll text you later,” he said smiling, before letting her go and running out the door and down the stairs. And there Eurydice was, left standing in her apartment, as her boyfriend went to visit his family with six or seven hickies in full view.

“Oh fuck.”

* * * 

“Don’t. Say. A. Word,” Urania hissed, urgency in her voice. It shocked her sisters, but they knew better than to argue with each other when one was so insistent. When Orpheus stepped into full view of the car, there was a collective half-gasp-half-giggle from the other women in the car.

“What are you talking ab— oh my god,” Thalia said, gripping the steering wheel, trying to hold back a laugh.

Urania unbuckled her seatbelt, hopping out of the car. She turned to her sisters and once again, venom in her voice, said “don’t say a single fucking word.” She turned and waited for her nephew to approach her.

“Urania,” He said, a little out of breath. “I’m so sorry. Eurydice and I were distracted last night a-and I forgot to set an alarm.” She smiled at the tall kid, and reached up for a hug.

“No worries, Starlight. Just glad you could make it,” she said, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. She kept thinking about how Orpheus said ‘Eurydice and I’, as if it was one word. EurydiceandI. No separation. And it looked like, if Eurydice had her way, she was trying to remove all spare space between them.

“Okay, you get the front seat. No room for your long legs in the back,” Urania said, making Orpheus laugh, before sliding in beside Erato. She watched Orpheus get in, watched Thalia reach over to ruffle his hair before he turned around to smile brightly at Erato and Cory.

The drive to their favourite brunch spot was loud, which was the only way Orpheus knew his family to behave. What started as a story about Cory’s latest performance quickly turned into giggles and other anecdotes. When they arrived at the restaurant, they saw Poly waiting out front, waving to them with a big smile on her face Urania hopped out of the car quickly to run up to her sister.

“If you say anything, I will end you, Poly, I swear,” she whispered next to her ear as she hugged her close. Urania could tell the moment that Orpheus got out of the car by the way Poly gasped slightly. Urania let her go, watching her skip over to the car to wrap Orpheus up in a hug.

When they were all settled inside at their table, coffee and tea in front of them, the family quieted just slightly. Cory stirred her tea, Thalia sipped her coffee. Orpheus took a small sip of his orange juice, as Urania started to talk.

“What did you and Eurydice get up to last night?”

Orpheus almost choked on his orange juice, but saved himself and put the drink down. All the women could see the slight blush creep onto his cheeks.

“We watched a movie for a bit,” he said, his eyes on the menu in front of him. “And then we…. w-we hung out and went to bed.”

“Did you have fun?” Erato asked from beside him, leaning forward to rest her chin on her hand. She smiled at him, with just a glint of mischief in her eyes and it was only a bit unsettling for Orpheus. Orpheus didn’t have a chance to respond before Urania started talking again.

“Cause it sure looks like Eurydice did,” she said into her cup of coffee. Orpheus looked around the table, completely wrapped up in his confusion. Poly wouldn’t make eye contact with him, Cory had dissolved into giggles, her head fully resting on the table. Orpheus made eye contact with Thalia who, with a smile on her face, gestured to her neck.

Orpheus’ hand came up to his own neck, and accidentally pressed his thumb into one of Eurydice’s love bites. Oh no, Orpheus thought to himself. In an instant, his mind flashed to last night, to Eurydice pressed against him, claiming him, to Eurydice this morning, insistent on him wearing his bandana.

“Oh my gosh,” Orpheus said, closing his eyes, his hands coming up to cover his neck, as his aunts finally burst out into laughter. Thalia was wiping tears from her eyes, and Urania smiled smugly at Orpheus. He sunk down in his chair, pressing his chin forward, ignoring the sting of one of the larger hickeys.

“I didn’t… we… s-she just…” Orpheus tried and failed to find words to explain the marks on his neck. He let himself fall over onto the table, hiding his now red face in his arms. A chorus of ‘aww’s came from his aunts, and he felt someone reach over to ruffle his hair (probably Poly) and felt an arm wrap around his back.

“Hey Orpheus, it’s okay! We’re just having a bit of fun,” Erato said, rubbing circles on his back. The laughter died down, and the five women watched him with smiles on their faces. “No need to get embarrassed! We think it’s cute.”

Orpheus knew that there was no malice or venom behind the words and laughter of his aunts — in all honesty, they were thrilled that Orpheus had fallen in love, and with a girl as sweet and lovely as Eurydice. They loved getting to watch him in this state, and their hearts ached for their big sister, who would never get to see how blindingly happy Orpheus was. But it still made him feel embarrassed.

“You alright, kiddo?” Thalia asked from the other side of the table, reaching her leg over to nudge at his foot. Orpheus just groaned in response, sitting up. His face was bright red, as he looked down at the table. He thought about Eurydice the night before, and how she had been so excited to cover him in kisses and marks the way she did. He thought about it and couldn’t keep a little smile off his face.

“… I didn’t know they’d leave such visible marks,” he mumbled, biting his lip and reaching for his juice to take another sip.

Urania snorted at him, shaking her head. “She was sucking on your neck, kid, what else did you expect?”

#Eurydice likes to stake her claim on her boyfriend #orpheus likes it too #the muses just find the whole thing quite funny #dust bowl fic #orpheus #eurydice #thalia #urania #terpsichore #erato #polyhymnia #hadestown au