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jargonautical · 1 day

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Somewhere To Be / A chapter at a time

Looking back

CULT, ABERDEEN, 2008

“FIVE PLACEMENTS IN two years? That’s quite the history.”

“You agreed to take her, pal - you can’t back out now.”.

Naz is only teasing; Roger didn’t just agree to take the girl on, he’s keen to do so. If he does say so himself, he and his partner have something of a knack for working with the so-called ‘difficult’ teens, even if they only discovered it because that’s all they ever got offered. The difficult ones, the damaged ones, the constantly-in-trouble-with-the-law ones, the ones that all the nice ‘normal’ families would pass on. Him and David, they might not be normal, but they are - as the social care function up in Aberdeen has come to realise - an excellent foster family. For this girl, galloping towards adulthood without ever having known real stability, they could well be the last chance she has.

“Tell me what I need to know then. Is she really that much trouble?”

“Not at all! To be fair none of this is really her fault. We’ve had a string of problems lately - oh, you didn’t hear this from me obviously. We’ve got several carers under investigation. At least one of them will never be allowed to work with children in any capacity ever again, if you catch my drift. The others - well, you don’t need all the details there either, but let’s just say there are questions about their treatment of the children. This last one complained to me constantly that Evie was eating her out of house and home, so we upped the food allowance. You know how teenagers eat, right? I assumed she meant the kid was grazing, midnight snacks and the like.”

“I do indeed.” Roger agrees, glancing meaningfully at the massive fridge he and David went shopping for shortly after their second foster son arrived.

“Well.” Naz sighs, compressing his lips, and it’s clear he’s still furious about what happened. “I popped in on my way home to drop off one of Evie’s homework sheets that got mixed up with my paperwork, and obviously they weren’t expecting me. Arrived bang on dinner time and she was sat there with a Pot Noodle. For her bloody dinner! Turned out that’s all they ever got, and if they complained they went to bed without.”

“Holy crap - and nobody ever suspected?”

“Never. She was always lovely when there were scheduled visits, went on about her famous home cooking. Should have known when she kept making digs about teenagers and their eating habits, but - yeah. I completely missed it. If I hadn’t had found that bloody homework I might still never know - anyway. She’s doing fine at school, no worries there. Doesn’t have many friends but those she does have seem solid. She’s a good judge of character, I’ll say that. If she likes you, you’re golden.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“Then you’re screwed, quite frankly. Even the placements that didn’t end in disaster, they all say the same thing. She’ll run rings around you until you’re exhausted.”

Roger makes as if to hand the paperwork back, but Naz smirks and steps smartly back out of range.

“Too late! Anyway, you’ll be fine. You two must be the most authentic people I know, and I’ve seen you go through some shit. The worst I can say about you is your bloody awful taste in music.”

That’s all the conversation - and warnings - they have time for, as a tidy red hatchback pulls up and the assigned social worker gets out of the driver’s seat. As she fusses her way around the car and opens the passenger door to let her companion out, Roger realises she must have had the child locks on. Every precaution, eh? The youngster stares straight ahead at the quiet cul-de-sac, not acknowledging the woman until she finally takes a step back; then she unfolds herself and ducks past without a glance or a word.

The paperwork claims she’s now fifteen years old, date of birth unknown but assuming she was around eighteen months the day she was placed in care. Honestly he’d have assumed no older than eleven or twelve if he’d passed her at random in the street; pale eyes over-large in her face and a short snub nose making her look very much still a child. He can instantly see why Naz was so concerned about her - she’ll age out of the care system in less than a year, cast out on her own the day after her sixteenth birthday, and looking like that she’ll be a prime target for the worst kinds of predators.

Even if he hadn’t had the history from Naz he’d have had questions about whether she was eating enough. She’s all angles, with the coltish long-legged look of a child in the middle of a growth spurt, elbows and knees and distressingly sharp shoulders very evident even through her shapeless clothes. Her face would be oval if it weren’t for her hollow cheeks and sharp cheekbones, and there are faint violet shadows under her eyes. He mentally doubles the quantities for bread, cheese and cereal on his weekly shopping list for a start. If she has any favourite snacks, he’ll be stocking up on those as well. And maybe a stash for her room …

His musing is interrupted by the social worker, apparently satisfied Evie isn’t about to immediately bolt, heading to the back of the car and saying, “You go ahead, I’ll bring her stuff.”

Roger turns to lead the way, then freezes in disbelief when he sees what’s in the boot. A bin bag, a black rubbish sack, flimsy plastic tied up in double knots at the top and already tearing from where it had been carried to the car. It’s barely half full, and that apparently is all the child has in the world to bring with her to a new home. That and a canvas satchel slung across her thin body and held protectively close in front of her.

“I thought you were supposed to get suitcases for placement moves.” he addresses Evie directly.

“Hardly worth it!” the social worker says cheerfully, hefting the bag to demonstrate and squeezing past. The look in the child’s eye dares him to make a scene, dares him to pretend he cares, and he swallows whatever ugly retort he imagined would put the woman straight. No need to cause a scene out here in the street, and she’ll be on her way soon enough.

Perhaps not as soon as everyone would like, however. First there’s the necessary busyness of inspecting the bedroom Evie will be occupying, touring the rest of the house like an estate agent conducting a viewing - mere formality since all the paperwork was signed and sealed, but she likes to be seen to be taking an interest in case anything later comes back to trouble her. Job done, she drinks a cup of tea at the kitchen table chattering on mainly about herself, while the child stands in the doorway ignoring the mostly rhetorical questions aimed vaguely in her direction. Isn’t this a nice house? Isn’t she a lucky girl to get a placement in this lovely area, so close to a good school? Isn’t she grateful to Mr Deen for arranging all of this, and Mr Linden for offering the placement? And so on, and on, until her mug is empty and none of her wistful glances at the pot seem to elicit the offer of a refill.

“Well, I must be going!” she announces at last, leaning down to her overstuffed handbag on the floor at her feet and extracting her keys from its drooping maw. “Do let us know how she gets on, won’t you?”

It seems everyone takes a deep breath of relief when the door finally closes behind her; Roger comes back to the kitchen to find Naz having one last word before taking his leave. “ … let me know immediately if there are any problems, alright?”

At last it’s just the two of them, and she finally claims a seat at the table. He makes more tea and joins her, pushing a cup across the table to her with the usual ritual, milk? sugar? say when, and waiting for her to wrap her hands around the cup and take a sip.

“I hear you’ve not been having the best time.” he offers carefully, opening up his body language and mirroring her grip on the cup. “Did Naz tell you why you’ve been placed with us?”

“You mean the reason I was given, or the real reason?” she counters. “It's a test, isn't it. You’re a policeman, Naz said, a ‘fine upstanding member of society’. Seems to think the sun shines out of your arse.”

He’s momentarily shocked by her bluntness, but in reality it’s a good sign. He hopes so, at least; she feels safe enough to speak her mind.

“Well, it’s very kind of you to say so.” he quips, and is rewarded by the briefest gleam of amusement.

“It is what it is. He said ‘Evie, if you manage to fall out with Roger I’m going to hand in my badge and retire.’” She mimics Naz’s tone and cadence perfectly, making him chuckle. Without a doubt she’ll be doing the same to him before too long, but that’s parenthood for you. She lifts her cup at last, taking a deep swig and staring at him over the rim. If he’s not mistaken there’s finally something like a smile lifting her solemn expression.

“I see. Alright, one thing you should know - I’m not in the police anymore. But when I was a detective, I was very good at my job.”

The cup goes back down on the table and she leans forward, cupping her chin on her hand. “Oh. You want to know about the homework sheet.”

He laughs faintly, shaking his head. “God, Naz was right - but don’t ever tell him I said that! Yes. I want to know about the homework sheet. Not an accident, right?”

“I like Naz.” she remarks, apparently at random. “He pays attention to stuff, you know? All his paperwork in order, that sort of thing.”

“Which is a good thing.”

“Which is a good thing.” she agrees. “And he always sees the best in people, which is nice. But some people just don’t have a ‘best’. All they have is - is camouflage. He needed to see.”

A good judge of character, Naz said; that has to be the understatement of the year.

“Why hasn’t he put you on the payroll? Seems like you’re doing his job for him.”

She doesn’t answer that, but raises her cup for another sip and stares a challenge at him over the rim.

“Got it.” he says ruefully. “I’ll have to be on my best behaviour, eh? My daughter’s at college right now but when she comes home she’ll be able to fill you in on exactly what kind of Dads we are. The good and the bad.” he adds with a wry twist of his mouth. “And my partner will be home soon, and I challenge you to fall out with him. He’s the most easy-going man in the universe.”

“Oh, right.” she says thoughtfully. “Why do you call him your partner? Why not boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend …” he considers the shape of the word. “No. Makes him sound like a temporary thing. We’ve been together nearly eleven years now.”

“Husband then?”

“Not until the law changes.” he answers shortly. “May be a long time before we get married.”

“Laws are stupid.” she pronounces with all the certainty of youth. “But you must love him, right? you want to grow old together?”

“Yes. Very much.” Even as he says it, he realises this might be the first time he’d said so out loud - to anyone other than David of course.

“Yes.” she echoes faintly, and the smile is unmistakable now. It feels like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, like he’s aced a test, though for the life of him he cannot figure out what or why. “Let’s not fall out then. I want to dance at your wedding.”

#a chapter at a time #fantasy #fiction #somewhere to be #books #booklr #reading #faerie #storygraph #goodreads

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

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∘◦ ♪ ◦∘ Timothée Chalamet - Concerto ∘◦ ♪ ◦∘

A/N - I wrote and posted this almost a year ago on my Wattpad. My writing has evolved a lot since then, but I’m still proud of this piece, and hope you enjoy it. I do not know Tim, nor do I claim to in any way. This is a work of fiction and entirely my own.

Warnings - smut. Detailed (but protected and consensual) sex, slight BDSM, overstimulation. Cursing. Legal alcohol consumption and smoking. Also 10k words of sickening fluff though, even the smut is fluffy.

Summary - At a classical music concert, the last person you expect to meet is a young man as charming and suave as Timothée. And the last thing you expected is for him to invite you back to his flat. Turns out music really is food for the soul, and other things...

IT’S A FRIDAY EVENING IN NEW YORK CITY. The sun is setting behind the towering silhouettes of undulating buildings all across the city, the moon casting shadows all around au contraire to the luminescence of building lights, beaming all around as well as the street lamps, bringing colour and light to people’s faces in the dark.

You’re standing on the pavement outside Symphony Space Concert Hall on the Upper West Side, people watching. Nothing more or less conspicuous, just observing everyone flooding into the hall, though none of them seem to be under 50 years of age. After checking the time, you take your phone out of the pocket attached to your delicate silk jumpsuit you’re wearing for the night, the one reserved for classy parties and sophisticated concerts only (though very handy). You open the email holding your ticket for the evening, a Poulenc appreciation concert, and you show it to the bouncer who grants you entry to the auditorium.

The room looks incredible. Photos of Francis Poulenc, as well as some old parchment sheets of his music spread out delicately over the usually bare walls. The lights create a perfect ambience in the hall for what's sure to be an incredible evening. The red velvet seats are half full, dotted with people at least twice your age, except from one seat near the front where you can see merely a defined jaw and brown curls. On the stage stands two glossy black grand pianos, slotted beside one another with plush velvet stools and their lids propped up, allowing one to see the inner workings of such wonderful instruments. Behind the pianos are seats enough for an entire orchestra, creating a crescent moon shape. A couple of the seats already have instruments atop them, aching for their owners to play beautiful melodies with them. You make your way down to where your seat is, familiar with the layout of the auditorium. You’re on the right hand side of the centre stalls, third row back, but as you arrive, there’s a boy you saw earlier, not much older than yourself.

“Hi, do you mind if I squeeze past?” You ask him, watching his head jolt up from the programme to reveal a mop of beautiful dark brown curls framing his chiselled face, piercing green eyes with flecks of hazel when the light changed direction. You recognise him, an actor, you simply can’t place him.

His look of incredulity melts into a smile. “Sure.” He says, moving his legs so that you can squeeze past and take your reserved seat on his left. He turns to face you, smiling. He’s wearing a crisp navy suit with a pale blue shirt and a matching tie. He looks well presented, and by his nervous and lopsided smile, you guess that he’s rather nervous to be at the concert alone too. “Timothée.” He tells you, holding his hand out.

You return his gesture, smiling right back at him, and tell him your name. “You here alone?” You ask him, turning in your seat to get a better view. He nods.

“Thought I’d be the only under fifty here.” He laughs, “I’m 24 by the way, but I shan’t ask your name since you're a lady.” You can't help but laugh at this, just a little giggle at how sweet he is, but your interaction is cut short as the lights turn down in the auditorium but shine brighter on the stage, and a full orchestra enters the stage, accompanied by their instruments, two pianists and a conductor. Murmurs in the hall settle down to a faint hum while the musicians tune to the sound of the oboe, and then begin to play.

The music is mesmerising, starting with orchestral pieces with faint piano accompaniment, then just a nocturne for piano, split between the two lead pianists. You could listen to it all night, but an interval has to come. As the lights slowly turn back up, you see an infantile smile on Timothée’s face, as though he’s just watched the most excellent thing in the world.

“Come on,” you say to him, smiling sadly while you tap his knee, “let’s get a drink.”

He reluctantly stands up to follow you out of the auditorium and to the small bar area. You order two margarita’s without consulting him, but he seems grateful as you sit beside each other on a high table, people watching once again.

“What's your job then?” He asks you, making small talk.

“I’m a piano major at Juilliard, teaching piano on the side though.” You respond, and he seems really taken aback. His jaw falls a little slack while his eyes bulge a tad.

“Wow, you must be excellent!” You blush a little at his words, elegantly taking a sip from your drink while he eyes you carefully. You feel awkward under his gaze, though flattered nonetheless. He’s gorgeous, and he’s complimenting you and accepting drinks from you, what a night.

“What about you?” You inquire. He's an actor, you know that, but asking means that you may be able to get some more context and maybe it’ll click where you’ve seen him before. He clears his throat, and you can see some older people walking by who pull faces, judging the pair of you, but you brush them off.

“I’m an actor, mainly small films though.” He says, remaining vague. You don’t push much more, realising that he probably likes not being fawned all over for once, so you simply ask of the favourite names he’s had the honour of working alongside, which must be an uncommonly asked question because a light flickers behind his eyes.

“Selena Gomez, Steve Carell, Armie Hammer, Saoirse Ronan, Emma Watson, Robert Pattinson, Maia Mitchell…” He begins to list, but only when he mentions Maia does it click. You aren't huge into films, but you have seen him in a film with Maia Mitchell and Maika Monroe a few years ago.

“Hot summer nights, right? You were in that?” His cheeks turn a magnificent crimson and he bows his head as though embarrassed. He mumbles something along the lines of ‘not my best performance’, but you disagree. “I think you were wonderful, and did you mention Armie Hammer?” He nods again, seeming a little brighter. You take another sip from your drink, and he follows suit, watching your poised movements.

“Call Me By Your Name.” You nod in recognition, you remember watching the film when it first came out and loving the music from it.

“You’re excellent you know, at piano I mean, and the intimate scenes aren’t half bad either, you make them better.” You say with a teasing smirk on your painted lips, making Timothée’s eyes widen again. You chuckle and grasp his hand, dragging him into the auditorium for the second half.

The second half is a whole concerto, Poulenc’s Concerto For Two Pianos And Orchestra. Ten minutes in, Timothée’s hand finds your thigh and seems very comfortable, so comfortable in fact that you don't dare move it. As the concerto flows further on, his hand slides further up your clothed leg and squeezes your upper thigh a little You tense under his touch, infatuation and lust filling every cell and exiting through your pores, just waiting for more passion to fill your body and make you drunk on the feeling.

When finally the concert ends, both of you stand to applaud the musicians for a solid few minutes, and you could swear you see a tear leaving Timothée’s mysterious eyes and rolling down his heavenly made, painfully defined cheekbones. While you clap, you surreptitiously edge closer together, millimetre by millimetre until you’re hip to hip with elbows nudging. Your head comes up to his chin, making you feel a little small, but you’ll feel even smaller once your heels come off. Once the majority of the audience have filed out, you grasp his hand and pull him through the crowds where you stand on the corner of the pavement, only metres from the venue. You’re reluctant to loosen your grip on his slim hand, as he is with yours.

“Cigarette?” He offers, holding a half full box out to you. You half smile and shake your head in refusal.

“I don’t mind if you do though.” You say, meeting his gaze. “I love the taste of smoke when I kiss someone.” You add in a whisper, leaning up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. He goes rigid, making you smirk to yourself. This is going to be a good night.

He lights his cigarette and takes slow drag, only looking away to blow the smoke in an opposite direction to you. How respectful, you think, as your stomach fills with butterflies and bubbles with anticipation. He puts it out on top of a bin and throws it away without littering, and just that small and helpful gesture makes you crave his touch, having his fingers trace your sweaty skin and making your body tingle, your back arch with desire and pleasure.

“Wanna get a drink?” You ask, pointing to a nice bar across the road. You’re desperate to sleep with him, but not without pleasantries first. He, however, shakes his head and intricately entwines his fingers with yours.

“I’ll do you one better than a drink.” His smirk sets off a different kind of longing in you, forcing your body to follow him wherever he takes you.

As you walk, he starts conversation, but you’re so breathless from the desperation speed walking that your answers are brief. He asks you why you attended the concert, only to remember that you’re a music student and piano teacher; so in turn, you ask him the same question.

“When I was doing Call Me By Your Name, I had to learn the piano, and while I was learning classical pieces, I kind of just fell in love with classical piano music, I don’t know.”

His nervousness is sweet, making him appear far more humble than anyone of his stature would usually be.

You get to his building after a twenty minute dash in heels, and he pulls you flush against him while entering through the revolving doors, allowing you to lay your weight on him for a moment while you gather your breath. You feel his heartbeat thudding and racing against his ribs, reverberating against your own chest. You turn around to face him and place your hand on his chest.

“Breathe.” You say to him, allowing him to release a long held breathy chuckle. You leave the doors, both laughing, and fervently press the buttons to wait upon a lift. “So,” You then continue, breaking the silence where only your breaths were heard. “Favourite piano piece from the Call Me By Your Name soundtrack?”

“Hallelujah Junction!” You both answer at the same time, just as the lift doors open. You fall into the lift in a fit of giggles, clinging onto each other. You find yourself with your back pressed against the cold metal handle bar in the elevator with Timothée’s face inches away from your own. Your breath mingles together. As soon as he presses the button to his floor, he nudges his nose with your own.

“God, you're so beautiful.” he says seconds before his mouth is pressed hotly against your own, kissing you with an unrivalled passion. Your lips mould and move together like it’s second nature. His one hand holds your waist while both of yours grip his face, feeling a slight stubble.

The lift dings and he drags you out, unlocking his apartment door and leading you inside.

“Welcome to Casa del Timmy.” he says while hugging you from behind, allowing you to get a full view.

His apartment is stunning. Sleek, yet also vintage. Your eyes follow across the perimeter through a door to the left, where he has an office area containing a sleek white desk with a mac and a stack of papers and pens, next to it is a vintage white bookcase stacked as high as possible with novels of all shapes and sizes, and even an indie style rug underneath a colourful modern dining set..

The door next to the office is a kitchen, white countertops with wooden cupboards and a beautiful view of the city out of the window. To the right is a set of glass doors that open onto a small balcony where you can see the whole city, even Manhattan and Brooklyn depending which way you look and how the moon beams down. There’s a closed door right in front of you and through the entry hall and living room which you assume is his bedroom held behind a golden doorknob.

His living room, where you remain standing, holds an array of house plants with a couple of very comfortable looking plush sofas, his TV stand as well as his coffee table look like polished vintage items, refurbished from a flea market maybe, while his book shelf and rug are grand and modern. The best part of all though is a grand piano in an oak wood, matching the wood from his television table, and you become instantly entranced by the instrument that you don’t even notice the velvet stool or the perfectly organised cabinet of music, with a guitar propped up against it.

“Wow.” You breathe. Timothée grips you tighter, trailing kisses across your shoulder and up the side of your neck, inhaling every few seconds to treasure the scent of your perfume. Gardenia, rose champagne, grapefruit, davana; heavenly. You grip his hands with your own, holding them tightly where they’re settled on your tummy. You roll your head against his shoulder to give him better access to kiss you, but he stops abruptly and leads you to the piano stool. He opens the cabinet and pulls out a well loved piece of music.

“I know it’s for two pianos, but let's have some fun.” He says, grinning at you, an infectious smile that you can’t help but return. Hallelujah Junction, first movement. He puts the music out on the piano and takes a seat beside you, your thighs touching and hands overlapping as they begin to glide over the keys.

Playing this piece is second nature to you, allowing you to find your way easily, slipping your fingers between Timothée’s, and the white and black keys. You begin a harmonious melody spanning the whole of the piano, but after only a couple of pages, you realise that its not working as your notes cross over, making it very difficult to play on just one piano. You laugh together, but only for a moment before he is trailing his tongue up your neck, then your lips, and delving inside your mouth. You gasp, moaning into the passionate kiss that he’s giving you, and within seconds you find yourself straddling his lap on the piano stool. You trap his thighs between yours, moving and grinding your hips a little against his to receive more friction where you can feel how needy he is.

Within seconds, he has your legs wrapped around his waist and his teeth on your clavicle. The pleasure makes sounds escape your lips that you didn’t even realise were possible. You knot your ankles as he stands up with one hand around your waist and the other feeling his way around his apartment. After a few funny missteps and close calls of him dropping you while only walking the expanse of his living room, he pins you against his bedroom door, finding your lips again

He gently pokes at your dusty pink bottom lip with his tongue, slipping his tongue back into your mouth, exploring avidly and devouring every taste of you that he can muster. You do the same, but become too infatuated by his taste to put much more passion into it: gin, mint, bergamot and smoke. Smoke, sugar and sin, the most deadly combination of them all, and that's all you can smell on him, making you moan even louder. An erotic moan that makes Timothée twist open the handle to his bedroom door as quickly as is humanly possible.

He as good as throws you onto the bed, but undeniably, it turns you on a lot to see his dominant side this early on into the evening. He doesn't seem like the type to pin you down and boss you around, but as he shuts his bedroom door and delicately takes off his probably very expensive shoes, you can see a glint in his eye, almost as if he’s planning on doing unspeakably pleasurable things to you. Just the thought makes you wetter than before.

As he locks the door and shuts his shoes away, you take a quick look around the room. His bed is nice, comfortable and exquisitely large, like other things you hope. He has a nice colourful throw, vintage looking pillows to match his nightstand, holding only a pillbox, a glass of water, hand sanitiser, and a box of tissues. The simplicity makes you want to laugh, but you restrain yourself. He has a big dresser to match his bedside table with the drawers a little skewwhiff and clothes poking out. His wardrobe is fitted to the wall and by the looks of it, surprisingly neat too. That much cannot be said for his sofa though. A plush, light grey sofa sits on one side of his room just away from the window, and it's covered with clothes. At least he made the bed though, that's more than you can say for most 20-odd year old mans rooms that you’ve been into.

He sheds his blazer and crawls up to where he left you on the bed, needy and craving more. He looks down at you with desperation in his eyes, and you can’t help but to attack his lips, threading one hand in his beautiful dark curls while the other nimbly pulls open his tie and undoes his shirt. You shrug it off his shoulders and run your nails up and down his spine. You feel him shiver beneath his touch while your hands travel all over his body. His shoulders, his biceps, his toned stomach; he’s skinny, but has enough substance to him to be strong and sexy as hell.

“You’ll kill me if you stop.” He whispers, followed by a string of breathy curses. His eyes roll into the back of his head, giving you ample opportunity to grasp his shoulders and slip the pair of you over, pinning him beneath you. His eyes flit all over your face before kissing you again.

“You are so freaking beautiful.” He mumbles between kisses. He slips his hands up to find the zip of your jumpsuit which he slides down crazily fast, only breaking the kiss to shrug it off your shoulders. He just lies in awe, noticing that you don’t have a bra on beneath it. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he examines every undulation of your body, following the swell of your breasts right down to your hips. Your nerves return under his scrutiny, making you want to hide your face, but instead he holds your wrists behind you.

“You never have to cover up,” he says, nothing more or less than genuine love in his eyes, “not for me.”

Despite only meeting him hours ago, you know that you can trust him, so you ungracefully clamber off his lap and lie on your back to shimmy off your burden of a jumpsuit. He practically leaps at the opportunity to worship your body, before him in only your panties. He starts at your ankle, placing feather light kisses all the way from your ankle, up your leg, not minding the slight harshness of your legs, and only stops at your knee joint to switch his lips to his tongue, licking a straight line all the way up your inner thigh, stopping centimetres from where you need him the most. Not through any of this ritual does he break eye contact though. He skips over your panties and only pulls them down a little to trail kisses from your pelvic bone, up past your navel, through the valley of your breasts, and finally back to your lips. He makes you feel things that you could only dream of before meeting him.

“Timothée…” you breathe, hearing his breath hitch in his throat at the way your tongue curls around his name.

You reach between the two of you to his trousers. You undo the belt buckle with ease and push his trousers off his hips and down his thin legs, allowing him to kick them off at the bottom. He seems embarrassed, wearing Y-fronts that make more visible just how much he wants you.

“How about we strip together?” You offer, and Timothée reluctantly nods. He pushes himself off of you and stands up, giving you a hand to stand up as well. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment you left the concert hall. “3, 2, 1…”

You both remove your underwear, pushing them down your legs and stepping out of them, only to step closer together so that your chests are flush against one another. He moves his hand up to cup your face, brushing your hair away from your face while tilting your chin up, capturing your lips in a lustful yet also sensual kiss.

He nudges you and your legs hit the bed, making you topple over and break the kiss from a giggle, but he doesn’t seem to mind and only laughs with you, moving your body further onto the mattress. He doesn't go to you again, he just lies beside you and dances his fingers absently down your pubic bone, ghosting circles around your clit.

“Jesus Christ.” You exclaim at the sudden feeling. Timothée kisses your jawline, but adds in between kisses, “Less of that, darling, I’m Jewish.”

You can’t help but laugh at him. You know he’s joking, just trying to mess with you, but as a punishment for laughing, he thrusts two fingers inside you with no warning, making you cry out in a mixture of both pain and overwhelming pleasure.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, never going deeper than the second knuckle even when you cry out for more. Only when your moans turn to gasps for breath and you’re writhing beneath him does he delve in further and add his thumb to your clit, giving you a more intense orgasm than you’ve ever had before.

You immediately feel blood rushing back to your cheeks, colouring them from embarrassment, but Timothée doesn’t mind. He removes his hand from your core, and makes sure your eyes are fixated on his every movement as he licks his hand clean of all your cum. You’re so turned on that you even reach for his own hand, interlacing all your fingers except for his index one, of which he takes the hint and slips it into your open mouth, allowing your tongue to curl around it, making him groan.

He slips further down the bed and locks his eyes onto yours, you can see different shades of green and hazel in them and a whole world locked behind those beautiful eyes. Slowly, he delves into your heat, licking up everything that his hands missed. His mouth works wonders, sending your mind into a state of mild euphoria. The tip of his nose nudges your clit and you can feel yourself involuntarily gasp, so when Timothée finishes savouring every taste of you that he can get, he harshly bites your sensitive clit for just a moment, stimulating parts of your mind and body that you didn’t know could feel pleasure, let alone pleasure that intense.

He comes back up and kisses your lips, planting his hands in your hair as you kiss him back and get lost in the moment, your tongues dance together in an exploration, an experimentation of passion.

You pull away after a minute or so, gasping for air. Timothée examines your face for a moment, and you find yourself once again losing your thoughts and sanity in his eyes, until you feel the tip of his throbbing cock brush against your bare thigh. You feel bad for how much he’s been neglecting his own levels of desire in order to pleasure you, so you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock. He takes a sharp intake of breath and flutters his eyes closed, his long dark eyelashes twitching alongside his eyelids whenever you grasp harder or pump him.

He’s surprisingly big, causing you to take longer while rubbing your hand up and down his member. Half way down one thrust, you squeeze his cock a little, hearing him whimper a little. The mere sound of him drowns your core in want. You edge your way down the bed and swallow as much of his dick as you can take until his tip hits the back of your throat. He lets out the most sensual guttural groan that you’ve ever heard, his eyes still closed while placing his hand on the back of your head to keep you steady. You bring your head back up to look at him while your tongue swirls his tip, his mouth is parted a little with breathy moans of your name escaping every once in a while, his eyelids switching from being lazily half open to squeezed so tightly shut that they wrinkle a little.

You go back down slowly, inch by inch, hollowing your cheeks. You work your hand in the part of him that won’t fit in your mouth and continue to bob your head up and down. You lick a strip up a vein on the underside of his dick, making him near enough scream your name. With one final bob of your head where you deep throat him, you pull away with plump lips, climbing up his body to straddle his waist. He looks up at you with wide and loving eyes, pulling you down for a sensual kiss.

“Are you clean?” He asks breathlessly, kissing down the hickeys that he’s already littered your skin with.

“Yeah, i got tested after my last break up a few months ago, and I haven’t been with anyone since. Is that because I just…” He nods and you laugh a little, the vibrations from his chuckle rumble throughout your body.

“I did the same, but I’ll still…” You get what he’s saying and climb off him. He flings open the top drawer of his bedside table and after a minute or so of rooting through it he pulls out a condom packet and places it next to his glass of water. You give him a questioning look with your brows knitted together, but Timothée just smiles at you. He slips one slim arm beneath your back and the other under your knee joint before scooping you up and holding you close to his chest.

“Well hey there Timothée.” You say with a chuckle, secretly astonished at how strong he is, because with one arm still holding you, he throws away the decorative pillows and pulls the duvet back, throwing you onto the mattress and leaping on top of you. You smile into his kiss, savouring every second of the feel of his lips pressed hotly against your own, the taste of smoke driving you crazy.

He pulls away and sits up, tearing open the condom packet and grasping his hand sanitiser. He flicks the lid open and squeezes it liberally onto his hands before applying it and rubbing it into yours. “Are you sure?” He asks you, and your urgent kiss to his jawline is followed by a string of fervent reassurances that you are desperate to have him inside you, though you respect that he wants consent and that he wants to be clean. He slips the condom on, his eyes trained on your lips and the way they part from wanting every few seconds. He’s enjoying torturing you and making you wait, the same way that you edged him but denied him orgasm.

He slips the condom on and slowly enters in one smooth stroke. You gasp at the contact, especially how deep he goes with the first thrust, so deep that his pubic bone hits your own. He reaches for the duvet and he pulls it up over his shoulders, covering the pair of you since he can see that you’re shivering a little in the open. He looks for reassurance, but then begins to thrust inside you, holding his weight above you. You can see his biceps tensing while trying to hold his weight up and keep a steady rhythm.

“How about we spice this up?” He suggests, a sly smirk playing on his lips. He cocks an eyebrow, and the sun hits his face at an angelic angle, only making him more beautiful. You nod eagerly to him, only making his smirk grow wider.

“Yes Mr Timothée,” you say, triggering a dominant smirk to relight behind those stunning eyes.

“That's Mr Chalamet to you tonight, Miss.” Words cannot even explain how wet he makes you by saying that, already making your mind want to submit to his every want. You let out a whimper and remove your hands from his hips to lay above your head on the pillows. He joins his fingers around your wrist and proceeds to lay his slender hand flat against your wrists, preventing you from moving.

“Is this okay?” He asks, his movements coming to a halt. You nod and kiss him again. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

He must really enjoy what he’s doing to you. “Yes Mr Chalamet.” You reply, making your eyes as doe like and innocent as possible.

Timothée’s thrusts restart, faster this time. You moan louder, ecstasy filling every inch of your spent body before you’ve even properly begun. His moans are lower, more like groans, all of your name. It sounds heavenly coming from his lips, the way his mouth moves when he says your name just makes it better. His hips hit yours with vigour, adjusting to get a better position where he hits the best spot inside of you.

“There Timothée!” You scream desperately, your back arching on the mattress while your hands fight to break free. Submitting isn’t as easy as you hoped.

“I’m close.” He warns you and frees your wrists, but he doesn’t let your hand go too far. He interlocks his fingers with yours, using one elbow to prop himself up. His thrusts turn sloppy, more fervent, and just as he’s finishing, he digs his thumb into your clit.

Your entire body turns limp, screaming his name in a state of complete euphoria like you’ve never felt before. It travels from your brain to the tips of your fingers, setting a fire in your belly and making your toes curl. Your back arches so far off the bed that your chest becomes pressed against Timothée’s, your breasts moving in time with his breathing. You feel him come to his own climax, silencing his screams by kissing you with more passion than he has before.

You ride out your highs, but the level of pleasure illuminating every nerve ending in your body means that you don’t notice Timothée pulling out and disposing of the condom, you only notice when he flops down beside you on the bed and pulls you closer to his slightly sweaty body. You rest your head on his chest that seems to be glowing in the moonlight from the sheen of sweat. He absently plaits your hair, staring off into the distance. The faint thudding of his heart within his ribs comforts you, it's a little faster than would be normal, making you smile a little.

“How was that?” His hand grips around your shoulder even tighter, pulling you closer to his body. He seems content in simply holding you, maybe he just enjoys cuddling. “Wait, don’t answer that.” He corrects himself, his pupils dilating and his excellent, angelic body going rigid. You chuckle to yourself, drawing circles on his chest with the pad of your forefinger,

“Excellent, Mr Chalamet.” You tease him.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He looks fearful, fretting, it's evident in the sudden sulk of his face, pulling his cheeks and forehead down. You shake your head again, slowly but surely moving your leg to lie over his. Ye inclines his neck to place a gentle kiss to our hairline, and you can feel him smile into it.

“Timothée?”

“Yes beautiful?” Just his simple words make you giggle and blush, such a sweet sentiment from a gorgeous and well meaning man.

“I’m hungry.” You say, feeling slightly embarrassed. He laughs, you feel his body move from it, and he proceeds to pepper your face with the softest and sweetest kisses possible.

“I’ll make us some food, grab any shirt you want and meet me in the kitchen.”

You watch him pull on a pair of grey sweat pants and walk out. His pale hips sway just a little as he walks, and he looks so lanky from where you’re laying on his bed, the covers pulled up around your chest. He kissed your forehead before heading to the kitchen, what kind of a man does that on the first night? He’s a famous actor and the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, let alone a couple of years above yourself. He really knows how to please a girl, your skin rises in tiny goosebumps of pleasure while a shiver shoots down your spine and leaps across your synapses just at the mere thought of what he did to you, by far the best climax you’ve ever had.

You slowly slide out from under his warm, plush covers that smell just like him, only leaving with severe reluctance that melts away as soon as you shrug on the pale blue button down that he wore for the concert. Only a few hours ago you’d met at a concert for old people, already having a common interest that few your age have, yet he’s so eager about classical piano which is so special to you. You fiddle with the buttons, leaving the top few open in hopes of another round - he is making you an almost-midnight feast after all.

You walk out of his room and pad barefoot across his living room floor, only to have a little grey cat come and rub at your feet. You lean down to tickle behind its ears, hearing it meow, and you continue your way too where Timothée has left the kitchen door open for you. He’s standing over the stove with some ingredients laid out on the spotlessly clean countertops. You smile in spite of yourself, running a hand through your messy hair before wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. You place a couple of kisses to his shoulder blades until he turns around and picks you up in one swift movement, sitting you on the counter so that you meet his height.

“It looks better on you.” He whispers, pulling you closer by your bare thighs to plant a kiss on your lips. He’s making you feel things you’ve never experienced before, you can’t wipe the smile off your face for the first time in a while, and he's making you food in the middle of the night after cuddling you.

Dreamboat.

After watching him cook for a while, you slip out of his kitchen and take a seat at his piano. You run your fingers over the smooth wood, it’s well loved but well kept. Then you take a seat on the stool. You can feel where Timothée sits to play, your smile turning a little sad. There’s so much to him that people won’t see because he’s getting famous, but he’s still a person and that’s something that you’re able to experience first-hand.

Eyes closed, you feel for F and Ab with both of your hands. You press the keys down gently, creating the soft blend of notes that is Clair De Lune. You fall lost in the music in a new way, a new feeling washing you with all of tonight's new sensations and sitting at a piano that is neither your own nor at school, it feels somewhat ethereal.

Your fingers glide all across the keys, black to white, flats to sharps, switching between octaves like its second nature. Your mind dances along with the rhythm, your whole mind, soul and being becoming lost in the symphony that you’re creating, one that you haven’t been able to create for a while, and it’s only thanks to Timothée.

You become so absorbed in playing that you don’t notice him leaving the kitchen to listen. He just stands in the doorway, leaning against it with his head lolled a little to the side, completely mesmerised by your movements, your music, and just everything you are. Only when you play the final notes are you alerted of his presence from the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet. He walks over to you with purpose, a slight grimace on his perfect lips, but he just hugs you. Timothée just holds you close to his chest, allowing you to entwine your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face in his bare chest.

“Stay the night?” He asks, such a simple request but he truly does seem anxious. You want to be genuine, kind, but it’ll be best to relieve the tension.

“You’re making me a late night post-sex feast and giving me your shirt, of course I’m staying the night.” After a moment of silence, he exhales a laugh and node, brushing a curl or two into his face. “Anyway, your cat likes me too, so it’d be a shame to disappoint the little cutie.”

After only a few minutes, you find yourself back in bed with Timothée. He’s carrying a tray full of food that looks and smells gorgeous, followed by his cat who decides to dance between his legs. He serves you a strangely shaped piece of an odd looking pizza, though it still looks excellent, and it has some perfectly cooked and seasoned vegetables next to it on a white plate.

“What is this?” You ask him as kindly as possible.

“Flammekueche with some vegetables. It’s a French pizza with crème fraiche and bacon. My dad makes it all the time and always gives me some that I just freeze and reheat. I can only make microwave meals and vegetables, so this isn’t bad for me.” The way he explains it makes him so endearing, and even makes the food seem more than enticing. “You’re not allergic to anything are you? Or vegetarian?” You shake your head with a smile, kissing him and thanking him for the meal even though he won’t let you touch it before you sanitise your hands.

You talk the whole while that you eat, learning little things about his favourite books and his family. His favourite book just happens to be Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald, a book you both know and love, and Timothee has a Jewish mother, a French father, an older sister, and he grew up in the city. You however are from out of the city with an exceptionally normal family, and your favourite book is Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. He seems to be growing fond of you, wiping the pizza sauce from your lip, followed by a kiss each time.

He places your plates on the floor as soon as you finish, snatching at the speed of light for some hand sanitiser, lube and another condom. You more than happily oblige with all of his steps and strip off his shirt, kissing the living daylights out of him before he’s even slotted the condom on. He kisses you back with equal fervour nonetheless, exploring your whole mouth with the tip of his tongue. He cautiously adds some lube to the sides of the condom and slips into you while you’re still atop him. You moan at the penetration, arching your body forwards and hereby giving Timothée a full view of your breasts and the way they bounce with his every thrust inside you.

You moan pornographically at his slow and passionate movements upwards and deep inside you, finding your special spot within moments. He settles his hands upon your hips, squeezing them and guiding your every movement. You ride him just the way he wants you to, you can see it in his eyes. He looks at you like a teenage boy would at a naked supermodel, of which you are only naked and most definitely not a supermodel, despite him treating you like one, and Timothée is thankfully older than a teenage boy yearning for sex.

“You look so fucking brilliant.” He tells you, admiring the way that your face contorts with pleasure while taking every inch of him.

You rhythmically grind your hips against him, swirling them occasionally just to hear him cry out. Nothing is a hinderance from you going faster, but this sex isn’t needing to be urgent to be satisfying. He squeezes your hips harder and you decides to move up a little further, bouncing back down on him as he becomes buried to the hilt in your desperate core. You do it again, engulfing him anew and moaning his name continually from the mix of friction and pleasure that’s sending you into another euphoria, but not enough to release again just yet.

Timothée still hasn’t taken his eyes off you, namely your breasts where he’s currently focussed, eyes trained on your hardened nipples - partly from not wearing a shirt and partly from Timothée’s ministrations. He leans up and captures your left nipple in his mouth, sucking and kissing and swirling his tongue around you in the most divine way possible. He moves his hands away from your hips too, allowing you to grind your hips on his in any way that you like. His one hand moves to your other breast, tweaking and pulling at your right peak and sending sensations through your body that you’d never realised could be real before; while his other slips to the rounds of your ass, squeezing delectably.

“Mr Chalamet, p-please,” you find yourself begging, leaning down while still riding him, his torture on your breasts never ceasing, not even when he thrusts his hips up one final time, allowing your core to devour him whole and sending you into your third otherworldly climax of the night.

“Timothée!” You scream, your climax pouring out of you. You feel him come too, and you hear him cry out your name like a blessing.

He doesn’t pressure you, he just waits until you’re able to clamber off him with as minimal pain and exhaustion as possible, though you do whine at the loss of contact as you lie beside him, his arms securely around you and holding you as close to him as possible. It doesn’t matter that you’re both sweaty or spent, it just feels special.

“Look at that, done before 1am.” He chides, cuddling into you. You laugh a little at him, especially his humour, but it is rather remarkable.

“Two rounds, a meal, and a concert. Can’t speak for you, but I’m knackered.” He smiles at you sleepily, passing you the shirt that you wore earlier. You shrug it on and do it up while Timothée puts his joggers back on and draws the curtains, leaving the two of you in dark for the most part. You lie further down, still close to his thin chest, you hear his breathing rattle a little, but it's soothing.

“Night beautiful.” Is the last thing you hear before falling asleep in his arms.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

The only issue about sleeping with Timothée is that you forget it's a Saturday morning, and on Saturdays, you have to work. Your phone alarm starts to go off at 7.15 precisely, which when you’re home, gives you enough chance to get ready for teaching in a calm manner so that you aren’t already angry before teaching little children how to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Today however, that is not the case.

Timothée sleeps through it somehow, but your eyes are shocked wide awake, causing you to leap from the comfort and warmth of his bed and cuddles just to crawl on the floor in search of your phone and where it fell last night. You find it next to his door somehow, and switch the alarm off immediately, propping yourself up against the door to release a long held breath and to watch the sun rise through his windows. He looks so beautiful asleep, his lips parted slightly, soft snores escaping every so often, dark eyebrows furrowed and his mop of curls haphazardly lying around him like a halo. The morning glow makes his cheekbones appear even more defined.

You want to gather your belongings without waking him, get dressed and catch a cab back to your flat, but just as you go to open his door, he stirs.

“Where do you think you’re going beautiful? Come back to bed, I’m keeping you here with me forever.” You know he’s joking, and his words melt your heart and inhibitions a little, but you can’t justify staying

“I have to work, my first student is at 9.30.” You say, walking across to stand beside his bed and brush some hair off his forehead, kissing him and your lips lingering on his sweaty skin a little longer than they probably should have.

“And? I’ll drive you home in time, if you live near Juilliard then I know a shortcut. Just come back.” He's virtually pleading, puppy eyes and quivering lip just to add to the effect, and you simply can’t say no when he looks so perfect. You place your things on the floor by the bed and slip beside him, allowing your eyes to flutter shut just a moment longer.

His finger traces your naked body beneath the shirt, focussing on the bruises he left on your hips and the marks on your neck. Just his touch is enough to take control of your body, to give you goosebumps, to electrify every feeling of love and lust held within.

“Can I use your shower please?” You ask him, and he nods, placing his chin atop your head.

“I’ll take you to my bathroom and then I’ll make you breakfast. Grab whatever clothing you want from my room, but you can’t leave this bed until you agree to dinner with me tonight.”

Your heart rate increases tenfold at his gesture, and you want to take a leap of faith and say yes straight away, but that would be playing your cards too quickly. “We’ll see.” You respond sultrily, making your way to leave, but his strong grip pulls you flush against him with no space to move. You can hear him laughing in your ear.

“Say yes to dinner and then you can leave.” He slips his hands further down your front without losing his grip and decides to toy with your clit as though it’ll get you to talk.

“Y-yes! God, Timothée, of course I’ll go to dinner with you, just don’t stop!” You find it impossible to understand the shockwaves of pleasure pulsating and electrifying your every sense from an action as simple as the pads of his fore and middle fingers twisting and pressing your sensitive clit. It’s so incredible that after the previous night, it feels like overstimulation, and you can’t get enough.

“I’ll never stop.” He murmurs gruffly into your ear, you can hear the hoarseness that smoking causes but god it sounds and tastes so good.

He pulls your body closer and rolls you over. “Hey baby.” You say as calmly as you can, but within seconds you find yourself sitting on his face, half of his stunning bone structure lost beneath you. He delves his tongue into your already dripping heat, licking as far as he can get and only pulling away to kiss and suckle at your clit.

“Let me come Mr Chalamet!” You cry out, and with one final swipe of his tongue around your core and a squeeze of your ass, you let go. Timothée licks you clean while you still chant his name, and he proceeds to pick you up in order to carry you to the bathroom. You settle your heels at the base of his spine, digging in a little, and his arms tense beneath your ass from the manner he carries you. You like being above him, able to trace every line and bit of stubble on his face with your focussed eyes that he stares so deeply into at any given chance.

“Don’t be too long or I’ll be tempted to join you.”

You slowly cross the threshold of the bathroom, winking at him as you close the door. He inaudibly groans, but you can tell from his facial expression and the tension in his joggers that make him look utterly sexy. You slowly unbutton his shirt, reluctant to take it off, but when you step under the warm jet of his shower, that reluctance washes away along with any inhibitions you may have had about Timothée. He’s an angel: clean, respectful, enjoys classical music, has a cat, isn’t a cocky dickhead, and he’s literally the most gorgeous human being that you’ve ever laid eyes on.

You run your fingers through your hair, standing directly beneath his showerhead. The steam clouds your vision, but you can hear Timothée singing while he cooks, Mystery of Love. What a dork, you think, chuckling to yourself while you rinse Tim’s shower gel from your body, and you just know that after this you’ll smell like him, but he smells delectable. As the water hits the most sensitive parts of your body, you remember the previous night. Just the thought of what he did to you makes you crave his touch again.

Through the bathroom window, you can make out the New York traffic that builds every morning, accompanied by the screeching of tires and sirens and car horns. Despite it being a ruckus, it's soothing as you step out the shower and wrap yourself in one of Timothée’s fluffy towels.

“How do you look so sexy when you’re getting out of the shower? God, I can't stress it enough, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my life, even without any makeup and with your hair un-styled, just wrapped in my Goddamn towel. You’re gonna be mine, mark my words.” You feel tears come to your eyes at his kind words, watching him purposefully walk from the kitchen and all the way across his apartment just to place his hands on your waist and tell you how beautiful you are. Those words are better than a concerto to you.

Once you’ve finished getting dry in his bedroom, you ferret through his drawers until you pull out a white top with various tie dye patterns across it. It’s cute, very Timothée. You pull it on and it reaches your mid thighs, making it clock in your head just how much of a lanky lad he is. You bundle together your stuff and head out of his room, closing the door behind you and greeting him with a kiss. He sits you at the breakfast bar and serves you a proper cooked breakfast: bacon, scrambled eggs, and pancakes.

“There's ketchup and syrup in the cupboard if you’d like.” He offers, sidling up on the seat beside you, nudging the tip of your nose with his thumb. The smile hasn’t left your face since you met him.

“This is good, you’re an excellent cook.” You tell him, resting your hand on his. His cheeks glow an even brighter red in the cascading morning sunlight, dappled by his blinds, but he looks magnificent despite his embarrassment.

You take out your phone, just to take a picture of the breakfast while it’s still untouched, and of your hand held by Timothée’s, already wearing rings. You notice that he’s already wearing a silver chain too, and a couple of bracelets on the wrist away from your own, which you find unusually attractive.

“I wish you could stay all day.” he whispers, placing his forehead on yours.

“Me too.” you say softly, smiling sadly and caressing his cheek.

You finish your breakfast and make your way to the living room in a strange kind of waltz orchestrated by Timothée. He insists on holding your waist and turning around a little, moving your feet in sync until you yank him down onto the sofa, catching his lips mid sigh which leads to a much more passionate make out session than you anticipated. Once that’s over, he plaits your hair beautifully, explaining how it used to calm his sister down before an audition. By the time he’s finished a very good pair of plaits, you check the time and it’s already 9, time for you to leave with NYC traffic, but Tim won’t let you go.

“Not without a photo.” He insists, but you question his reasons. Who would want a photo of you with wet hair in plaits, an oversized tee-shirt and a bare face? But his answer is too sweet to refuse. “I like taking pictures of beautiful things, and of which, you are the most beautiful.” Your cheeks flush a raging scarlet, and Timothée takes your few moments of silence as the perfect opportunity to take a picture of you, sunlight hitting your face in all the right places, and he takes another for good measure, his hand on your cheek and his lips on yours, a kiss that shuts you up for good.

He takes you down the stairs right to the garage where he keeps his car, and surprisingly, it’s an understated car, not crazily extortionate nor flashy, something which you respect highly. He sits you in the passenger side, making sure to kiss you before closing the door, and he gets in the driver's side. After starting the engine and leaving the parking lot, he lays his palm flat against your thigh and keeps it there the whole drive while you change gears for him. You tell him all about your childhood, your high school, your time in uni while he tells you his life at a performing arts high school and then his life as an actor, he truly fascinates you.

Once he pulls up outside your building, he tries to convince you to let him come in, or at least walk you to your door, but on the grounds of not scaring the life out of your neighbours and students, you say no with a promise to see him later.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight that you won’t be able to walk.” He says, pulling you in for a final passionate kiss before you step out of the car. He made you wet just before you have to work, you’ll get him back later, but the revenge melts as soon as he leans out the window to blow you a kiss and tell you how stunning you are.

You’re so lost in your trance of Timothée that you don’t notice your first student tapping you on the shoulder and excitedly saying “Was that the Timothée Chalamet?”

You chuckle to yourself, watching him drive off into traffic, all for you. “Yes it was love, yes it was.”

#timothee chalamet #concerto #timmy t #chalamet #tim chalamet #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee smut #timothee fluff #timothee imagine

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

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𝐷𝑖𝑙𝑓!𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑇𝑟𝑦 𝑇𝑜 𝑆𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑒 𝐴𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝐷𝑖𝑙𝑓!𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧 𝑀𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 (𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑)

Warnings: NSFW content including but not limited to exhibitionism, voyeurism, semi-public sex (don't try it irl), lactating kink, tittyfucking, etc. Aged up/Older Ateez but age differences are still within legal boundaries. Allusions to infidelity (which I do not condone or encourage)

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Hongjoong couldn't keep the proud look off his face as he showed off a video of your son playing around on the piano while seated on his lap.

"I'm telling you, he's going to be a musical genius." He boasted to his closest friend, Seonghwa who watched in amazement.

"Mine so far just know how to make messes and keep their mommy and me awake at all hours of the night." Seonghwa chuckled as he gave a lighthearted pat on the bum to the woman right next to him.

"They? You already have two?" You couldn't believe it.

"What can I say? Maybe I'm just really...gifted." Seonghwa winked which had his significant other blushing intensely when he looked her way, the poor thing fanning her face before going to the kitchen to grab more water.

Seonghwa's words left you feeling curious about him and it was a night out for both of you to have fun. So why not have a little fun?

"You must really be packing a lot in there to be able to knock up a girl with 2 kids." You observed as you shamelessly looked at his crotch.

"Well if you ever get too curious I'd be happy to let you experience it firsthand." He looked at you smugly as his thumb cupped your chin.

It was rather dangerous to flirt like this with Hongjoong's best friend right in front of him, but part of you wanted to know what he'd do seeing you act like this, like how'd you'd flirt back in university. You always loved making Hongjoong jealous after all. Taking Seonghwa's hand, you brought his fingers to your lips.

"I'm curious. Very curious actually." You maintained eye contact as you took his fingers in your mouth and mimicked the tongue movements you'd often do on Hongjoong's cock.

Speaking of him, you were surprised as to why he hadn't said or done anything. Looking behind you, you realized he wasn't even there which confused you. Finally you spotted him on the couch and you dropped Seonghwa's fingers out of your mouth when you saw none other than his s/o on Hongjoong's lap.

"Hongjoong!" You angrily exclaimed yet he still had a grin on his face.

"What? I was merely trying to get closer to my friend's soon to be wife." He replied as the hands on her hips went to her ass.

Walking over to them, Seonghwa lifted his partner off the couch and promptly excused himself as he pulled her out of your apartment, no doubt to remind her of a few things. Meanwhile you stood there glaring at Hongjoong who looked unbothered.

"What? It's only ok for you to try and seduce other men?"

You huffed and were about to walk to your room but Hongjoong sat up and hugged you from behind.

"Calm down my little slut, I was only giving you a taste of your own medicine. And besides, you don't need another cock besides mine." He chuckled as he started to play with your pant's zipper.

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Coming back from the kitchen, you widened your eyes as you saw that Hongjoong's a significant other was still flaunting herself to him and he was going along with it.

"This little bitch." You muttered to yourself thinking that no one heard you but someone did.

"It's frustrating isn't it?" You heard Hongjoong say right next to your ear, lips ghosting over the lobe.

"I take it a cat fight is out of the question?" You asked him.

"Actually.... I have a better idea, if you're comfort enough to help me."

Seeing his smirk and wiggling eyebrows, you knew what he was referring to and you decided fuck it. You allowed him to walk you over to the couch but it was you who pushed him onto it before straddling his lap, the dress you were wearing rising up and nearly exposing your lace panties.

"Well you're certainly not a shy one are you?" Hongjoong mused, eyes unable to look away at your chest that was right in front of his face.

"Hey, sometimes a girl's gotta get dirty to get what she wants." You bit your lip as you took his hands and guided them to your hips. Leaning down, you pressed your forehead against his and swiped your tongue across his upper lip.

"Like stealing another woman's husband." You chuckled slyly.

Hongjoong wasn't planning on feeling this hot by your behavior, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't find you attractive. Obviously you were extremely attractive if you managed to steal Seonghwa away from his wife and Hongjoong could now see why.

"Hongjoong!" You both heard his girl shout.

"Took her long enough." You whispered in his ear, trying to contain your laughter after he not only said he was trying to get close to you but also when he squeezed your ass.

The next thing you felt was a pair of arms getting you off Hongjoong before a voice said:

"I'm sorry but we must be going now."

Seonghwa was fuming as he dragged you over into the car, his hand slamming the door loudly.

"Maybe now you'll think twice before letting someone else try to seduce you." You snorted.

"I wasn't actually gonna let her do anything." He told you, a hand rubbing his temples as he tried to calm down both his anger and embarrassment.

"Oh I know you weren't going to let anything happen baby."

Seonghwa's breath hitched when he saw your face stoop down and start to take him out of his pants. He groaned when you spat on his cock so you could begin pumping him.

"Whatever she had you fantasizing about while your fingers were in her mouth, I can fulfill it and even more."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

When Yunho said he wanted you to meet a few of his close friends, you began worrying that an event like what happened with his family would took place. But to your surprise it was nothing like that. And in fact you two weren't the only couple who had a large age difference between them, as his recently remarried friend Yeosang had a wife that was closer to your age so that comforted you.

No doubt Yunho intended for you to become friends with the lovely lady, but surprisingly you were bonding a lot more with Yeosang than anyone, and after a while it escalated to a little flirting.

"So is it true that Yunho bought your virginty?"

You nearly spat your drink out when he asked that, but you composed yourself and smiled as if nothing happened.

"Yeah and I honestly don't regret it." You responded.

"I don't think he regrets it either." He gestured over to Yunho who was happily chatting with some of the other guests.

"Did you also buy your now wife's virginity?" You figured it wouldn't be bad to ask him an embarrassing question now.

"No actually I didn't. I didn't have to. From the first moment, she wanted me like I wanted her and in the end, well...... she ended letting me corrupt her after a long game of cat and mouse." He had a fond look on his face as he began to recall all those memories.

"Well with that face I'd let you corrupt me for free." You wanted to slap your hand over your mouth when you accidentally said aloud what you thought in your head.

Yeosang quirked an eyebrow an amusement at your words.

"Oh really? You little innocent thing would let me corrupt you? Tell me, what if it had been me instead of Yunho that paid to have his way with you?" Yeosang was bold enough to tuck some of your hair behind your ear, his large veiny hands making you get wet as you imagined them undressing you.

"I'd let you fuck my pussy for free." You admitted as you began to lean into him.

Unbeknownst to you, Yunho had listened to the entire conversation and now he stepped in to pull you away from Yeosang. He looked beyond mad and you thought you fucked up for real. He dragged you into some lonely part of the park you were all gathered in and pressed you up against one of the trees. Before you could speak, his large frame trapped you as he started to pull your dress up.

"A long time ago, I paid for this little pussy of yours, isn't that right?" He harshly asked.

You nodded immediately before gasping when Yunho practically tore your panties off you, leaving your bottom half exposed for anyone walking by to see. You tried to pull your dress down, but were stopped by him.

"Don't even try it. Like I said, I paid for your pussy which means it's mine to show whenever I want....." You shuddered when he plunged two fingers in you.

"And fuck whenever I want. Just me, no one else. "

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

You weren't going to lie that you felt uneasy about Yunho's wife talking a little too friendly with Yeosang. Even though you tried to listen to what Yunho was saying, your eyes kept trailing back over to them, and you couldn't stop squinting your eyes at her.

"You can stop being on edge about my wife, she's not going to steal Yeosang away from you." Yunho assured you.

You looked back at him with a face that let him know he was stupid.

"Oh honey, you have no idea what a woman can be like. Don't be fooled by our innocent appearances." You warned him before looking back at Yeosang.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Judging by his tone, you knew Yunho felt offended that you meant anything remotely offensive towards his wife.

Wanting to lighten up the mood while simultaneously letting him understand your point of view, you fully turned your attention to him and smirked as you 'innocently' began adjusting his tie.

"Wha-what are you doing?" Yunho couldn't help the stammer in his voice when you came close to him.

"I'm just fixing this up for you." You answered, your voice sounding as smooth as honey.

"That's not necessary-" Yunho gulped when he tried to pull away only for you to suddenly pull him back in, your body now pressed to his, your breasts peeping out of your cleavage daring him not to stare.

"A woman may help a man tie his tie, fix his belt or..... adjust their collars simply to be nice."

Yunho stiffened and blushed red when you leaned in and whispered with a honey like voice in his ear:

"Or it's because we're trying to get you guys to fuck us."

You knew your plan worked when Yunho's eyes shot wide open and he excused himself to go stomp over to where his wife and Yeosang were. You patted yourself on the back especially when you made emphasis on the adjusting collars part, knowing that Yunho saw just as you did how his wife had adjusted Yeosang's collar before and he was not subtle about checking out her cleavage.

Your proud smile did not leave your face even when you saw Yeosang slowly approaching you. You knew he definitely saw how you were with Yunho and you were curious to see what'd he say. Humming softly, he went behind you so he could wrap his arms around your waist while his face buried itself on your neck.

"Mind telling me why you were so close with Yunho?"

Reaching a hand up to pat his hair, you answered:

"Simply teaching him a few lessons on how women seduce men."

Yeosang couldn't help but let out a soft laugh at your words. You giggled when you felt his lips press open mouth kisses along your neck.

"Yeah you're an expert in that category, aren't you?"

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

"Umm...uh Y/N?" Mingi, San's friend spoke up.

"Yeah?" You wondered what was bothering him.

He seemed unsure whether to tell you or not, whatever it was that he was trying to say. Clearing his throat, he finally decided to spit it out.

"I think you spilled something on your shirt when you went to the kitchen and didn't notice."

You were confused as you didn't remember spilling anything on yourself. Looking down at your shirt, you laughed as you realized what it actually was.

"Oh! I didn't spill anything, that's just my boobs." You blurted out.

Mingi flushed pink as it clicked on his head what you meant.

"Oh...right. San had mentioned before that you lactated a lot but I didn't think-" He stopped himself before he went further.

"Didn't think?" You pressed him to continue.

"Didn't think it'd be that much." He confessed, eyes curiously eyeing the wet stains on your shirt.

Getting turned on by another man staring at your breasts, you reached for the bottom of your shirt and pulled it off of you. Slowly, you began to pull your bra up as well, your breasts popping out with a bounce that had Mingi biting his lip. San came in to find you topless and with his friend admiring your tits and although he'd usually be very jealous, something about it made him get aroused.

"My wife's tits are so pretty aren't they Mingi?" He startled you both when he made his presence known.

"God yes." Mingi couldn't lie.

"Maybe you should taste them." San suggested as he reached for one of them and squeezed it so a bit of milk would come out of it.

Mingi hesitated but after San reassured him it was fine, the giant male latched his mouth onto one of your breasts, sucking on it fervently. If you thought it couldn't get any better, soon San joined in, taking a hold of your other breast and taking it into his mouth. You threw your head back and moaned loudly as both men sucked on your breasts, your hands cupping the back of their heads to push them further into your chest.

"Just watch Mingi, she can literally cum untouched by just having us breastfeed from her." San chuckled in between his suckling.

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

"I should cut off your balls." You threatened Mingi as he confessed to you what had transpired the day before at San's house.

"Honey please don't do that. At least you heard it from me, doesn't that count for something?" He pouted at you as he tried to hug you.

"Yeah it counts for getting it sliced off in one whole strike instead of piece by piece." You grunted as you evaded his embrace.

"Ok, what's it going to take for you to forgive me? Ask for anything. If you even wanna withhold kinky times from me, I won't even blame you."

You actually thought long and hard about how to get back at Mingi. Just what could possibly make you get even with him after he confessed to sucking on his friend's wife's tits? The light bulb went off in your head at once.

"Can you ask your friend San to come over?"

Although he was confused by your request, he nonetheless did as you asked and called him over. San was just as confused, but he figured he was probably there to help his friend out and apologize for what happened and take responsibility. But what he was not expecting was for you to throw yourself on him and start seducing him right in front of Mingi, who was equally shocked.

"You got to have your fun with his wife yesterday right? I think it's only fair he gets to have fun with your wife, don't you think Mingi?" You smirked over at him.

San was hissing and grunting as he layed on your bed, watching intently as his cock was buried deep in between your boobs. Every time his head popped out, you made sure to stick your tongue out to further stimulate him.

"You seem to have a thing for breasts Sannie." You teased as you began to fuck him between your boobs even faster.

"Oh fuck!" San cried out as he tried to keep himself from cumming.

"Mingi also likes a good tittyfuck every now and then, but he's more of an ass man above all."

You looked over at Mingi, who sat quietly on a chair in front of you both, watching it all go down with a tent in his pants.

"Mingi come fuck my ass." You suddenly told him.

"Are you serious?" Mingi widened his eyes.

"I just got done saying how you're an ass man and I'm feeling empty. Now are you going to stay sitting down or are you going to join in?"

In minutes, Mingi had gotten up and had stripped himself off his clothes, and now he was positioning himself right behind you, cock twitching at fucking your ass while your breasts fucked his friend.

"You really are a kinky little lady."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

"Wait, you met Y/N where?"

Wooyoung wasn't surprised to hear the disbelief in Jongho's voice as they shared stories about how they met their current significant others.

"In the strip club I frequented. She was one of the dancers there." He repeated himself.

"What? Did she drop her panties onstage and you immediately bought a ring?" Jongho teased him.

"One, we're not married...yet. And two, I actually had to get her alone to be able to see her with no clothes on. And fuck when I did, I decided to snatch her away before anyone else got a chance to." He admitted.

"Was she that enticing to you?" Jongho questioned him.

"Trust me, she's the type of woman who can dance her way into a man's heart. Or pants." Wooyoung boldly stated.

"I doubt she could dance into mine." Jongho firmly said.

"Oh really? You think so? Wanna bet on it?"

Wooyoung didn't hesitate to pick up his phone and call you right away. Hearing his mischievous tone, you knew he was up to something. When he asked you to come over to his office in one of your old costumes from your exotic dancer days, you got a hint as to what it could be and it excited you to think about it.

You came into his office, thinking he wanted a private show but you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw that he wasn't alone. You looked at Wooyoung, asking for an explanation.

"Baby I hope you don't mind but.... I wanted you to put on a little show for my dear old friend here." Wooyoung shifted in his seat.

You were about to scold Wooyoung for even thinking of such an idea, but Jongho spoke up first.

"She can try all she wants, but I doubt she'll be effective in seducing me."

You scoffed at the man's words and at that moment you wanted nothing than to wipe that smug look off his face. Setting your phone on the desk and pressing play, you walked right in front of Jongho and let the long trench coat fall of your body, revealing the glittery lingerie you were hiding. Although Jongho tried to remain stoic, you could see that the corners of his lip twitched slightly when you began to dance.

You felt proud of yourself when it seemed you were finally getting him to break as you rolled your body on top of him, your hips mere inches from actually grinding down on his crotch.

"Can I touch her?" Jongho finally blurted out, nails clawing the couch underneath him.

Wooyoung and you both exchanged a triumphant look when he asked that.

"Only if you admit I won the bet, then I'll even let you fuck her."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

"Are we really doing this right here?" You giggled as Jongho continued to mark kisses across your neck as he pushed you onto the desk behind you.

"Can't help it. I just really wanted you now." He winked when he came back up to cup your face and hungrily kiss your lips.

You found it odd that Jongho was suddenly getting frisky with you while at work. He'd never ever approve of you two risking getting caught doing something inappropriate during work hours. But you figured it was because back then you two were a secret and now almost everyone knew you two were married. So you just didn't think too much of it and instead enjoyed as his strong hands gripped your thighs and spread them apart so he could fit himself in between your legs.

Just as you two were getting lost in each other, the door opened and someone came in.

"Oh I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" A man whom you had never met before asked as he seemed embarrassed about walking in on you two.

"Oh, not at all Wooyoung. In fact I was expecting you right at this time, after all, I did call you here."

Jongho looked so unfazed about having his friend walk in, in fact, he looked almost too happy about getting caught like that, it was so unlike him. Just as you slid off the desk and began adjusting yourself, Jongho stopped you.

"Wooyoung? Remember the other night? When you let your little exotic dancer give me a lap dance?"

You widened your eyes when he said that, hearing that for the first time.

"Among other things." Wooyoung nodded.

Taking your hand, Jongho slowly walked you over to where Wooyoung was seated.

"Well.... I think it's time you let me return the favor."

Before you could even guess what was happening, Jongho sat you on Wooyoung's lap, your back pressed against his chest.

"I left her wet and bothered so I think she'd really appreciate it if you helped her out." Jongho winked at you before stepping back to his desk to get a better view.

You whimpered when you felt Wooyoung's hands slide up your shirt to cup your breasts.

"Are you ok with this babygirl?" He asked you.

Having Jongho watching you intently and being left needy by him, you didn't hesitate to let his friend know that you were more than ok with him touching you, which delighted him and Jongho as well.

"Don't hold back on her, she likes it rough."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez dilf au #dilf!ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez angst

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tsukishumai · 3 years

Text

pairing: miya atsumu x f!reader

tags: fluff, strangers to lovers

word count: 2.2k

Summary: You think of all the different versions you get of Atsumu throughout the day

Nights with Atsumu were unpredictable. Your heart always skipped a beat whenever you received one of his “are you free tonight?” texts, excitement never failing to course through your veins.

Miya Atsumu was an adventure.

He had been that way from the very first night you met him, crashing into him at a music festival your friends had dragged you to.

You had been lost for the past hour - separated from your group when you had mistakenly taken the wrong turn while trying to look for the restrooms. You’ve tried calling them time and time again, but the sheer amount of people at the event must have been doing something to the phone lines. None of your calls or texts were going through.

You mumbled a hurried apology, and you could practically feel the way he raked his gaze over your appearance. Though, there was nothing presentable about your current state; your hair (previously curled and styled carefully) was pulled up into a messy bun, dirt from the festival grounds stained your shoes and pants, and the expression on your face was nothing short of stressed.

“You lost, hun?” He had asked. While you would usually cringe at the pet name coming from a strangers mouth, the slight drawl of his accent made it sound sweet, and you couldn’t help but nod.

“It’s my first time coming to this festival - I have no idea where anything is.”

He nodded in understanding. “It can get pretty confusing if ya don’t know what you’re looking for,” he sighed out, reaching a hand out for you to take, “Come on, I’ll help you find em.”

Even then, having known the man for merely two minutes, you were never hesitant in taking his hand.

He quickly told his own group of the current situation, setting up a meet up spot for the end of the night in case Atsumu wasn’t able to find his way back to them in time.

(That was smart. You guys should have done that.)

You wondered why the blonde boy bothered to take the time out of his night to help you. Hadn’t he spent his own money to be here with his friends?

When you had asked him this question, he simply shrugged. “It wouldn’t be right of me to leave a beautiful girl all alone and lost in this huge festival now, would it?”

You didn’t find your friends for the rest of the night. You had instead spent it with Atsumu, jumping from stage to stage, claiming “maybe we’ll find them there?” but really, his favorite artist was up and he didn’t really want to miss it.

It shocked you how natural it felt to be with him; easy conversation flowed naturally, and the initial mission of his company was quickly forgotten, replaced instead with the dizzying thrill of his fingers wrapped around your wrist to make sure he didn’t lose you in the crowd.

“This is my favorite band,” he yelled into your ear, twirling you in circles as you danced along to the beat pummeling out of the speakers.

“I can see why!” You smiled at him, and the freedom you were feeling in that moment, dancing with a stranger that was quickly becoming a friend, was a better high than any drug.

Atsumu couldn’t dance at all - this was something you had pointed out during the second set you had watched together - but there was something in the way he just stuck his tongue out at you and continued to flail his limbs in some semblance of a rhythm with such confidence that you couldn’t help but find charming.

“Y/N!”

The frantic crying of your name made you whip your head around, and you see your best friend running over to you.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

You let your best friend scold you for going missing for four hours, pushing down the feeling of embarrassment as Atsumu snickered at you.

“Thanks for keeping me company,” you said, turning to him one last time before finally joining your original pack.

“Anytime,” he smiled, then pulled his phone out of his pocket before handing it to you, “Mind returning the favor some day?”

The grin on your face was brighter than any of the lights surrounding the stage, quickly entering your number and saving it.

It wasn’t even two days after the festival before you received your first invitation out from Atsumu.

There were nights when he took you out to his favorite bar on a Thursday night because shots were 2-for-1 on Thursdays. The two of you would always run into more than one for Atsumu’s friends, and you were more than happy to allow them to indulge you in one or two embarrassing stories of Atsumu. The smile on your face grew wider each time his blush would deepen, and you didn’t know you could find him more endearing than you already do.

There were nights when he would whisk you away to a secret spot in a part of the city you had never been to. “It’s a little bit of a hike,” he’d warn you. You’d have half a mind to reprimand him for letting you wear your new shoes knowing the path would be dirty, but you were shut up by the views. Atsumu came prepared with a blanket to lay down on, taking out snacks and drinks from the backpack he was carrying. Your heart clenched at his thoughtfulness, laying down to stare at the stars peppering the sky. “The moon looks really full,” you said. “Yeah, just like my heart is for you,” he cooed. You would share a laugh, shoving him slightly, but hoping with everything that he meant it.

There were nights when he would take you to visit his brother’s onigiri shop. He would always take you either at closing time or after, ensuring that the three of you had the place to yourself. You could feel this to be some sort of test - test of what, you weren’t sure but you knew you wanted to pass it. Osamu would bring out off the menu flavors, using the two of you as his test subjects. You and Atsumu would exaggerate your judgements, commenting as if you were judges on Top Chef. “The consistency of the rice provided a good mouth feel,” you commented, rubbing a hand on your chin. “The flavors meld together perfectly, creating a refined taste suitable for any palate,” Atsumu replies, and the two of you would burst out laughing, Osamu rolling his eyes and asking you to be serious.

It was after one of those nights, belly and heart full from the nonstop eating and laughing. Atsumu walked you all the way up to your door, saying it’s much too late for you to be on your own. With your key in the door, you turned to say your good bye, only to be met by the softness of atsumu’s lips.

Nights were when Miya Atsumu let you into his world.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Afternoons were rarely spent with Atsumu.

You would think that sharing an apartment with the blonde setter would afford you more quality time, but he mostly spent his afternoons chasing his dreams.

You’ll never forget the afternoon the two of you had found out he had made onto his first pro-volleyball team; he was officially an MSBY Jackal. Happy tears were shed, on your part, but more so on his. Excitement stamped all over his face as he claimed he still had so much work to do.

You never held it against him when he came home late at night, the only interaction you’d have would be the kiss he placed on your forehead before climbing into his side of the bed. You didn’t mind that even though you were now living together, this was the most time you two would spend apart. It wasn’t like you were just waiting around; you had a job you loved and were dedicated to.

He never let you missed him too much, though.

“Are we almost there?” Atsumu gasped out, and you just threw your head back and laughed.

“What’s wrong? I thought volleyball players were supposed to have monstrous thighs or whatever?”

Atsumu grumbled. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t exhausting to scale a damn mountain!”

“Always so dramatic,” you mused, skipping ahead of him on the trail. Atsumu had a rare day off from practice, and insisted on doing whatever you wanted for the day. He was hoping you were going to say ‘let’s cuddle and stay in!’ Or ‘I want to go to that cafe I saw on Insta!’

But no, you went with “I want to go on a hike!”

It was his own fault, really. Ever since he would take you to look at the stars, you made it your mission to find all the little gems in your city.

“I swear to god, I’m gonna faint,” Atsumu placed the back of his hand on his forehead, “Please tell me we’re almost to the top!”

You grabbed his hand, pulling him up the last few steps of the trail.

“Ta da,” you sang out, out stretching your arms to present the view from the top.

Atsumu took on a deep breath and looked at the view. From the top of the trail, all that surrounded the two of you was the color green. Green leaves from towering trees that covered the face of the mountains that surrounded you. Green shrubs that littered around the forest floor, creating a lush carpet of foliage that stretched as far as you could see. In the space between the mountain ranges, Atsumu could see a hint of the ocean that lies beyond, and he could almost taste the salty air that always made his hair wavy.

The beauty of the earth surrounded him, reminding him of life flourishing all around, and all he could really look at was you.

The color of your eyes that sparkled like uncut gems when caught by the golden rays of the sun that was now nearing its highest peak in the sky could rival the most vibrant green nature could produce. The smile on your face was more blinding than the summer sun. All he could see was the beauty of the love that he knows only you could give him.

Afternoons were rarely spent with Atsumu, but he’s thankful for every chance he gets to be part of your world.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Mornings with Miya Atsumu were lazy, and intimate.

The habit of early mornings were hard to break, and regardless of whether you set an alarm or not, the both of you would stir awake at the crack of dawn.

You could feel Atsumu’s heated breath on the back of your neck as he wrapped an arm around your waist. “Good morning,” he would mumble, voice still thick with last nights sleep, dripping into your ears like fresh honey.

“Good morning,” you would reply back, turning around to bury your face into his chest. You loved the way he would always pull you closer, as if there was no wya you could be close enough, trying to fuse you into his own body. You don’t care that you can’t really breathe in this position - there was no where else you would rather be.

Though you were willing to stay that way forever, it was only a matter of time before life interrupts peace and demands to be lived. After a few more soft kisses placed on any bare skin lips could get too, maybe a few fingers brushing through your rats nest of a hair, Atsumu always was the first get up out of bed. You’d try to beg him for a few more minutes, but he’d make you laugh and say “I’d love to doll, but my bladders bout to burst all over our sheets,” and you can’t do anything but laugh and let him go.

Atsumu always showered first since his days started earlier, and you would make your way downstairs to make coffee for the both of you. You usually drank it black, but you made Atsumu’s with a little extra cream. He never asks you to, but you always packed him a lunch and snacks to take to practice, leaving little notes with words of affirmation to get him through the day. The look of pure admiration and love you get when you simply hand him a lunch box, thermos, a peck on the lips, and a prayer for safety; you think this must be true happiness.

You walk back up to the bathroom to start your morning routine, and feel warmth spread all over when you see that he’s set up your toothbrush on the sink with a glob of toothpaste on top and a little cup of mouthwash prepared and ready for you to use.

You loved Miya Atsumu at all hours of the day, but mornings just might be your favorite.

In the morning, Miya Atsumu was just for you.

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mintbaby1012 · 3 years

Text

Jisung ♥︎ First Sight

You go to a bar and meet a handsome strager. Is it love or lust at first sight ?

Word Count: 2589

Warning: SMUT, uhhh impatience, dirty talk

——————————————————————————

The handsome stranger gazing at me from across the bar seemed to be what I'd label a 'lust at first sight.'

I'd never been one to ever believe in such nonsense as love at first sight. I hated the prospect of it. The thought of falling in love with someone simply by looking at them seemed entirely delusional. People that preach 'you should never judge a book by it's cover' and then also believe in love at first sight are contradicting themselves completely.

It's ironic. Love at first sight is nothing more than finding a pretty face. How are you to know that handsome stranger isn't a stalking lunatic, or an uptight snob.

You may get a few days into the relationship and realise this handsome stranger is actually the opposite to what you want, and then a week in and you're already screaming in each others faces, but lust at first sight? Now that seems a little more realistic.

You find a pretty face, get too aroused to care, have a one night stand and then goodbye sir. It's as simple as that. No love, no strings, no attachments. Just a pretty face, and a hell of a night

I knew this stranger under the name Han Jisung. He was a music major in my university and lived in a dorm house with eight others he'd formed a dance and performance group with. They liked to call themselves Stray Kids.

I didn't really know the reasoning behind it, or anything in particular about him to be honest. Though none of that mattered, he was giving me the eyes.

There was no way in hell I was about to turn away when my friend had already abandoned me to go and make some memories with Jackson Wang in his room across campus.

Swiftly, the bottom of my dress brushed against my legs as I walk over to the man with lingering eyes. He smirks, coming forward to meet me halfway. He looks so flawless as he moves, like he's the centre of attention.

His lips curl when he's close enough to speak to me, "Hi. Y/N right?"

"Right." I confirmed, nodding my head before raising my glass to let the toxic liquid coat my tongue. He watched me closely as my lips move around the glass, and pout before drawing the glass away.

He seemed intrigued I thought. Leaning forward, he let his mouth move next to my ear, which made me shiver. They teased my lobe as his warm breath tickled the skin. "Do you want to dance?"

I didn't say anything, instead, I placed my glass on the nearest table and allowed my hand to be filled with his. It sparked like fireworks and electric in my bones.

Moments later, he pulled me into a space between crowds of people, but as soon as his hands were on my hips, it felt like no one else was in the room at all. He moved with me, holding me close. It was so easy, we fit together like a jigsaw piece and our bodies moulded perfectly, moving and hitting all of the right places to ignite and stimulate.

Sweat dripped down my body, it was hot, but perhaps that wasn't just Jisung's fault. The room was heated, lighting hit the floor and lightened people's faces with each colour of the rainbow. Some lighting strobe, others more constant and the music boomed from corner to corner.

It was amazing, I couldn't hear anything at all, because the music was loud, and people yelled drunkenly to their friends, but it felt right. Jisung felt right. My fingers teased the hem of his shirt, before slipping underneath altogether, adventuring his toned back.

At the same time, his hands locked in my hair, bringing his head down to kiss me.

The kiss was messy, which proved it was harder to kiss and dance at the same time, but it still sent blood rushing to my core. Letting his tongue flick my lower lip, it didn't take long before we found ourselves in a heated kiss. I pulled away once I could no longer breathe, his breath was heavy, and hotter as he blew against my ear. "I need to take you to my dorm room and have you before I die" he growled.

"That's very medically alarming," I stated. "We should leave to prevent such measures" he said bitting the side of my lip for a few seconds.

Smirking, he hurriedly pulled me away from the crowd of people and led me to the exit. I was curious as to what his dorm room looked like, but by the time I was pushed against its door, the thought had entirely left my mind.

Tearing off his coat as he led me into another rough kiss, he placed his hands on my hips and continued to hold me up against the locked door.

My clothes didn't stay on for long either and therefore were quickly stripped off.

Unlocking the door, he guided me to his bed and immediately pushed me back gently. Towering above me, his lips found their way back to mine, and the moment they met, he took control and dominated me.

Once we ran out of breath, he pulled back and left endless butterfly kisses over my collarbones. At the same time, he placed his hands on my breasts and allowed his fingers to flick over each nipple.

He was like a blind man using his hands to see my entire body. It didn't take long before mine were all over him too.

Rubbing his perfectly sculpted abs with one and cupping his dick with the other, his mouth moved down my stomach and began trailing kisses in a circle. Darting his tongue out a few seconds later, he sucked and let his teeth nibble thin parts of my skin leaving red and purple bruises.

Curling my fingers and taking clumps of his hair; he slipped out a quiet moan as his mouth then began to tease my thighs. It felt so good and encouraged him to continue manoeuvring his tongue, but, instead he moved away and returned to meet with my face.

"What? Why did you stop" I complained. He only smirked and flipped us over. I wasn't having this and roughly pinned his shoulders back, before sitting on top of him with my legs on either side of his bare torso.

"Inpatient much." He stated winking, as he panned his eyes down my body, licking his lips in a seductive manner a few seconds later.

"You love it" I responded sheepishly, and earning myself a nod from the sexy man.

Reaching down and removing his boxers, his member bounced slightly and slapped back onto his stomach, which made my core tingle slowly becoming soaked.

Gazing at Jisung's cock with hungry eyes, my mouth watered and my urge to lean down to give it a taste increased, but I didn't want to keep my pussy waiting.

Stripping myself down, I spread my legs and got ready to put him in. I didn't want to wait anymore.

Without waiting another second, I sat right on him and entered. His big hands grabbing my hips and his slim fingers curling around each bone. The thickness of his cock tore right through and caused me to groan in both pain and pleasurable, "Ahh J-Jisung "

"Fuck you sound so hot!" He purred, and pulled me down until he was all the way in. "Ughhh shit!!" Jisung grunted, then gave my body a final pull. Once my walls were able to close up around him, I began to feel more pain that pleasure.

As a result, the energy and excitement suddenly disappeared. "It's hurts Jisung!!!!" I whimpered.

"I know. But I promise you will enjoy it!" He assured, I remained motionless for a couple of minutes. I knew he was allowing me time to adjust to his size, which made me feel a little better. He was so kind and considerate.

With every passing second, his manhood seemed to expand and throb against my walls, which created a very unusual sensation. "I'll start thrusting alright, let me know if it hurts and I'll stop" he warned in a warm, caring voice.

I was so surprised at how fast his attitude had changed. A few moments ago he was being a complete animal, and now he was acting like an angel and willing to take things slow and easy. The duality is almost making me call in love with this man!

"O-okay" I replied, biting my lips to help ease out the pain.

Without saying another word, he began to thrust. The sound of the bed creaking and our heavy breathing filled the room, which created an intense atmosphere. With every push, my walls clenched tightly around him and cold flushes ran all the down my spine to my ankles.

Letting a few more minutes pass, I could feel the pain slowly turning into pleasure, and with a few more thrusts, it all felt so good. Keeping a firm grip on my waist, he picked up the pace and began to vigorously slam in and out of my drenched vagina.

"Uhhh f-fuck!" I exclaimed. "J-Jisung ah~"

"Are you alright Y/n baby?" He asked through a slightly shaky voice.

"Y-yes" I answered, shutting my eyes and continued to bite the side of my lip. I didn't expect the pleasure to come this quickly, but I'm glad it did. Jisung was pretty big and thick, making me feel completely filled. Anyhow I still wanted more.

Leading my hand to my clit I started rubbing it at a fast pace stimulating my bud while spreading my legs allowing him to thrust even deeper inside of me.

He has the most sexiest thrusts and the deeper he got, the more intense the pleasure became. "Jisung O-Oppa!" I moaned, letting my fingers explore the area around my pussy not being occupied by Jisung's big dick.

"Mhmmm..." he growled, and suddenly leaned down to my level. Hugging me tightly, he kissed my cheek and let out quiet but deep moans in my ear.

His voice was extremely relaxing and it only made me want him even more. I felt so secure with his arms and body sheltering me, it made us feel closer.

Pulling me closer towards him, he went harder and slid even deeper, immediately sparking a fresh wave of pleasure to rise within my body. The sinnful moans we created mixed together making a beautiful piece of music, and the smell of sweat and intense sex filled the room.

Keeping his arms locked around my neck, I couldn't help but admire how good they looked. The way his biceps tensed up and the veins on his hands popped out. Everything about them turned me on.

Tilting my head to the side, I went in for a kiss and received an instant response. He wasn't afraid to get rough and attacked my lips like an animal; breaking apart a few seconds later, he then trailed down the back of my neck and bit my shoulder.

"Ooh fuck" I whimpered.

"Sorry! I just want to fucking eat you. You're so sexy" he growled, and returned to sucking on one side of my neck, before pulling away a few moments later.

Slamming himself into me repeatedly until my entire body moved in sync with his.

I was already so exhausted and wanted to stop, but at the same time, I felt the need to continue.

"Shit" I whispered under my breath, and did my best to keep up with him.

Holding my hips, he manoeuvred me even harder and allowed his manhood to slide all the way in and all the way out.

"Ride me babygirl" He sniggered, and continued to control me as if I was his toy puppet.

Doing what was asked, I bounced and rode him aggressively, twisting in circles and being sure to get myself all the way down. It was a whole new feeling, but it brought the same amount of pleasure. "A-Ahh Oppa, y-you're so b-big," I commented.

Smirking, he gazed thirsty at my pussy and licked his lips. Reaching for it, he ran a finger between my folds and pinched and twisted my bud then rubbed it in a pattern repeatedly.

His touch made me tingle uncontrollably, and the longer Jisung touched me, the more urgent I was to cum.

Riding him for a bit longer, a combination of hot and cold flushes ran up my back and ignited a strange butterfly like feeling in my stomach.

I had a feeling my climax was coming. "J-Jisung, I t-think I-I'm going to cum!" I trembled.

Holding my torso tightly, he bounced me even harder until my walls stretched around his thick shaft. With every passing second, my climax lingered closer and closer.

I couldn't take it anymore. "OPPA I-I CAN'T H-HOLD IT ANYMORE!" I quivered, moaning under my breath as I felt my climax inch even closer.

With a few more violent thrusts, I came. Rubbing my clit fast, I released my juices all over his dick and made a complete mess of it. His big throbbing cock was covered in my cum just the thought made me feel insane.

I had no control and released even morejuices onto his cock. Shutting my eyes and whispering his name to make the experience even better, I continued to release until my body could no longer cope. By the time I had finished my orgasm, he was covered in cum.

He looked so sexy, I was surprised I had managed to reach his face while his abs and body glistened with sweat, but he didn't seem to mind. "Wow someone was holding in alot, Y/n!" He teased, and glanced down at his body, before licking his lips.

"Shit I'm almost there babygirl!" He added a few seconds later, and went the fastest he's ever gone.

Despite climaxing before him, I sensed another one coming."Oohhh Jisung ah~~" I cried, and prepared to feel the wrath of this second climax. "I'm going to c-come a-again, " I yelled breathily.

With a few more thrusts, he let out an ear piercing moan and came deeply into my vagina.

His voice filled the entire room and sent a shiver down my body. Never have I heard such an intense sounding moan. "Ughhh fuck!" I moaned out; the twitching of his cock and the warmth from his cum triggering me into releasing again.

Squirting all over his dick and making a mess of my fingers that rubbed my clit, he kept himself buried and continued to empty his load in the tightness of my hole.

Once he was done, he slowly pulled out and gently laid me beside him, before wrapping his arms over my sweaty body.

"Are you okay babe~" he whispered, and kissed my cheek softly. "Y-yes" I answered with a smile. "Come and visit me again alright?!" he continued.

"I sure will!"I whispered enthusiastically, while falling asleep in his arms.

"I can't wait babygirl!" He purred before he as well drifted off into a dreamland.

I really enjoyed every moment of this night and it's all because of my first sight of, Han Jisung.

#stray kids #Han #Han smut #Jisung #Jisung smut #smut

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etoileholland · 4 years

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wrapped in red | chapter 1; oh holy night, I’m alone tonight

Tom Holland x reader series

summary; two Christmases ago, while you were working your usual seasonal job at a holiday gift wrapping shop, Tom came rushing in at the last second to have some last minute presents wrapped. As time went on, he quickly became enchanted by you, and was soon wrapped up in your life, and you his. However, things would take a turn for the worst when someone from your past emerges, causing your relationship to unravel. Could it be salvaged, or was this romance destined to live in Christmas past?

this story will contain; fluff, with some angst sprinkled in

warnings for this chapter; none

word count; 3.2k

a/n; here it is! I’m beyond excited for this series to debut, I’ve poured a lot out into this series as a whole so I really hope you enjoy ❤ if you’d like to be tagged in upcoming chapters please let me know!

Christmas: a day that’s usually associated with love, cheer, and magic. A day that’s loved by many people all around the world, a day that brings people together, a day wrapped with hope.

Christmas used to be one of your least favourite holidays, until very recently, that is. For you, Christmas was filled with awkward and tense family dinners, with loneliness, underlying anger, and hopelessness.

Until one unsuspecting Christmas, two years ago.

//Two year ago//

You were working your seasonal job at a gift wrapping shop on Oxford Street. It was a fairly easy job, with little to no stress. That is, except for the occasional client who would complain about the prices. Other than that, it was a pretty nice job. The hours were flexible, and your boss allowed you to do coursework when there were no customers in the shop, which was nice since you were in your second year of university.

Today was Christmas, and just like last Christmas, you were working alone tonight. It was fairly slow today, with only the occasional last minute shopper popping in since everyone was at home celebrating with their loved ones. And since you were the only person who didn’t have a family, you had to work. It’s pretty depressing when you sit and think about it, but it’s true, you didn’t have a family like your boss and coworkers do.

You only had about ten minutes left until closing time, so to pass the time, and to take your mind off the fact that you were completely and utterly alone, you were sitting at your workstation, reading your favourite book. You were so engrossed in your make believe world when you heard the bell above the door ring, signaling that a customer had entered the store.

Sitting up in your seat, you closed your book and pushed it to the side. You looked up to see a boy rush in, a boy that seemed around your age. His cheeks were slightly frostbitten, and there were small snowflakes sprinkled on his hair. He was carrying a tall brown paper bag in one hand, his phone in the other. He knocked the snow off his shoes on the doormat, and when he was finished, swiftly walked over to you. When your eyes met, he gave you a small yet rushed smile.

“Hi,” he let out an exhale, shaking the rest of the snow off his coat, “Is it too late for me to have a few things wrapped?” He set the bag on the counter carefully. “I just got off a flight back here from Spain and I bought these presents before the flight since it was laid over, but I was in such a rush I forgot to buy wrapping paper and no one else is open to wrap gifts and I’m under a tight time constraint.” He spoke so quickly that he was out of breath, his face turning redder by the second. “Can you please help me?” He looked at you with pleading eyes, and a small quiver in his voice. You could tell that it seemed he was on the verge of tears, “Please?”

Sliding the bag closer to you, so that you could peer inside, you mentally counted how many items needed to be wrapped. There seemed to be around ten things inside the bag, which would take some time, but it could be done. You looked up at the boy, who was looking back at you with pleading eyes.

“Of course I can help you, that’s what I’m here for.” You smiled at the boy, and a smile beamed across his face.

“Really?” He asked, “it wouldn’t be too much trouble for you?”

You shook your head. “No, I promise not at all.” Taking the gifts out of the bag, you carefully laid them all out on the counter. There was something that was wrapped in a leather casing, two matching knitted jumpers, a book of piano sheet music, a cookbook, a small jumper that was either for a small child or a dog, a pair of AirPods, and lastly a vintage camera. He seemed to have good taste in gifts, for each item seemed handpicked, even though he said he was in a rush when he bought them.

“Not to pressure you,” he spoke up quietly, “but about how long do you think it’ll take you to wrap those?”

You pondered his question for a second, taking into account the multiple items he brought in. “So, this may take a little bit of time, maybe about 30 minutes?” You estimated, and judging from his facial expression, he seemed happy with the time frame.

“That’s fantastic, now as long as the London traffic isn’t too bad then I should make it home in plenty of time.”

You quickly glanced up at the clock on the wall, the time being five minutes after five. “By the time I’m done, I think you’ll have just missed the rush hour, so you should be good.”

“Thank you.” He flashed a quick smile at you. “And what time do you close?”

We already did, you thought to yourself. Since you didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was keeping you late, you instead said, “at 6, so don’t worry.” You gave him a reassuring, and hopefully, a convincing smile. When he smiled back, you knew that he believed you. Getting out of your chair and pointing to the wall that was lined with various gift wrap, you asked him which colours he would like.

“Red and gold, please.” He pointed to the crimson red colour, and the gold foiled paper. “Those two right there are my favourites.” Tearing off large sheets of paper, and grabbing a few varying sizes to accommodate each gift, you walked back over to your table, laying out the pieces of gift wrap.

“Do you have a preference for which gifts to be wrapped in a certain colour?” You asked, to which he nodded his head no.

Picking a piece at random to wrap first, you grabbed the gift that looked the most intriguing to you. It was a thin leather case, with two things etched into the leather, the word “Omega” and the numbers “007”. The case was heavier than it looked, and by the looks of it, seemed quite expensive. “It’s a watch.” He spoke up, “it’s for my mate Harrison. He loves James Bond, and watches, so when I heard that Omega released a limited edition James Bond collection, I knew I had to buy him one.” He held out his hand, palm faced up. Realising that he wanted you to hand it back to him, you placed it gently in his hands. You watched him open the leather bound case carefully, and you gasped when you saw the watch. It must’ve cost him a fortune, you thought.

“I picked the watch that was designed after the one that James Bond wore in ‘No Time to Die’, since Harrison pointed out how cool the watch looked when he watched the film.” He closed the case, and handed it back to you so that you could wrap it. “I hope he’ll love it.” The boy added.

“He’ll definitely love it, I don’t see why he wouldn't.” You grabbed a piece of the gold gift wrap, and placed the gift on top of it. “The gold will go best with this, and it’ll also go with the theme, you know, like maybe an homage to the film ‘Goldfinger’.” As you wrapped the gift, you saw that Tom was watching your movements. He almost seemed entranced watching you wrap the gift up, his eyes wide. Even though your reference wasn’t totally correct, he half smiled anyway.

“I just realised, I completely forgot to get your name.” He looked up at your face, his brown eyes meeting yours. “I’m Tom.”

“Y/N.” You answered, giving him a small smile before resuming wrapping the gift. After a minute, the present was perfectly wrapped.

“Would you like a bow on it?” You asked, and Tom nodded his head yes.

“Yes please,” you reached underneath your workstation and pulled out a box of assorted ribbons.

“What colour?”

“Red for the gold packages, and gold ribbon for the red packages please.”

“Okay.” You held up a spool of velvet red ribbon, and he nodded his head in approval. You cut off a piece and wrapped it around the present, and finished it off with a bow.

“It’s beautiful, thank you Y/N.”

You looked up at Tom, who was beaming at you. “You’re welcome.”

The next gift you grabbed were the two matching jumpers that were folded loosely. Taking a second to fold them neater, you set them back on the table.

“Could you please wrap them in red paper?” He asked, and you hummed in agreement.

“Those are for my mum and dad, it’s been a tradition for me to buy them matching jumpers each year. It’s a funny story really.” He spoke, letting out a small laugh. “One year, I didn’t know what to get them, and the store I bought them at had a buy one get one free sale, and since that was the only design they had I bought two of them.” He smiled as he spoke, reminiscing about the memory.

As you wrapped the gifts, he told you who each present was for, as if you were familiar with the people he was describing. In a way, you were getting to know who each person was, the people who were near to his heart, without having met them. Hearing these stories made you feel close to Tom, even though you had just met.

“I bought the AirPods for my mate Tuwaine because he always steals mine.”

“Sounds like something my friend would do.” You joked, making him laugh at the comment.

“The cookbook is for my little brother Sam, since he loves to cook.” Tom stated, “He makes a mean shepherd’s pie, you should try it one day.”

You listened to him speak and tell stories of the person’s whose gift you were wrapping. Listening to him talk about his family made you feel less alone about the fact that your family was away this Christmas, only god knows where. You didn’t care though, you haven’t seen them since you were ten anyway.

“Can I try?” He asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. He was pointing to the red paper that was laying on the table. Pushing the gift wrap towards him, you watched as he wrapped, well more like attempted to wrap a present.

“It’s bloody awful, innut?” He asked, laughing while doing so. To put it nicely, it looked like a five year old did it, but it wasn’t the worst you’ve seen.

“I think it looks cute.” You said, “it’s the thought that counts.”

“You’re too nice.” He placed the present next to the other ones that you had perfectly wrapped. “Thank goodness I’m not the one working here, otherwise people would hate me and would demand a refund.”

“You’re just being too hard on yourself, it looks alright. Although it takes a lot of practice to get this good.” You playfully boasted, ending the sentence with a wink.

“Have you been doing this a long time?” He tilted his head up to look at you, and when his brown eyes met yours, you almost forgot what he has just asked you.

“Um, this is my second year doing this, but last year this location was in a mall, instead of here.”

“Ah, I see.” He answered softly. You were nearly done with wrapping his presents, and although you had just met this boy, you didn’t want this to end. Sure, he was keeping you late, but it’s not like you had somewhere else to be. You were intentionally wrapping the presents just a little bit slower than you usually do, not too much as to keep him later than he wanted to, but just enough to talk to him a little bit longer than you would’ve normally.

“That’s a vintage Polaroid camera.” Tom spoke up, pointing to the only present that was unwrapped. “My little brother Harry, who’s Sam’s twin by the way, loves photography. He’s been going on for ages saying that he wants this exact camera.”

You listened to Tom as you wrapped the box carefully, mentally cherishing the last few minutes you’ll get to spend with Tom.

From the sights of it, Tom was a lot calmer now that he’s spent the hour talking to you. When he first came in, he was beyond flustered, and his gaze was fixed to the clock on the wall. Now, he hasn’t looked at the clock since he first came in, almost as if he doesn’t have anywhere pressing to be.

When you finally finished, it was 5:54pm. As you gently placed the gifts into the brown paper bag that Tom had originally brought the gifts in, you quickly glanced up to see Tom looking back at you, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“Y/N, thank you so much for helping me out. Really, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here.” He placed his hand on the nape of his neck, rubbing it nervously. “And you finished in the nick of time, right before closing.”

Before you could stop yourself, your brows furrowed in confusion. You had forgot that you told him that you closed at 6 instead of 5, but you didn’t have to say anything, since your look of confusion gave you away.

“Don’t tell me, you were closed when I rushed in here.” He said remorsefully, as his hand played with one of the buttons on his coat. “Why didn’t you tell me I was keeping you late?”

You paused for a second to think of the best way to word what you wanted to say. “Well, I promise it wasn’t a problem. I don’t really have anywhere else to be anyway, and I could see just how badly you needed something good to happen today.” You shuffled over to where your jacket was hanging up, along with your bag. “I really wanted to help you out.”

Tom began to pull out his wallet when he asked, “how much will all this cost? I’m not very good at math, but looking at the prices-”

“It’s free.” You interjected.

“No, it’s not.” You watched as he pulled out a few £20 notes. “Would like 4 of these-”

You waved your hand in front of you. “Consider it my Christmas gift to you.”

“But-”

“Merry Christmas Tom.” You walked past him to close the shop up, closing the blinds and putting all the supplies away. When you finished, you carefully picked up the bag of Tom’s presents and handed it to him.

“You’re an angel, like my Christmas angel.” He stated. His eyes were soft as he looked at you, his pupils slightly dilated. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

You smiled softly at him. “It was no problem, now you should get going so you can be with your family.” You took a step over to the door, opening it for Tom and you to leave. The snow had let up a little bit, as it was now a small flurry. Tom stepped past you, standing as you locked the door behind you both.

“So,” Tom spoke up, “how are you going to get home?” There was some concern in his voice, and although he didn’t explicitly say it, you knew that he already cared about you.

“Oh, I’m just gonna walk home. I live about five minutes away from here.”

He turned his head to look over at you, his eyes searching your face to see if you were joking. When he realised that you were telling the truth, he shook his head. “I can’t let you walk home alone Y/N. It's cold, and dark out, and it’s dangerous for you to walk home alone.”

“I promise I’m fine, I’ve walked home alone from here many a time, it’s really just a short walk.”

“I can’t, not in good conscience at least. I want to walk you home.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Tom just shook his head. “I want to walk you home, I mean it.”

“I’ll be okay, you need to get home to be with your family tonight. I don’t have anyone to come home to.” When you said it out loud, you realised how depressing it sounded. At least I’ll be able to drink away my sorrows tonight, you thought.

Tom turned his head to look over at you, and then straight ahead. “I don’t feel good about you being alone on Christmas.” He was silent for a second, when suddenly a thought popped into his head. His heart began to race, and even though it was freezing out, his cheeks felt warm. “Why don’t you spend Christmas with me and my family tonight?”

You stopped walking, and placed your hand on top of his arm. When you saw his face turn red, you took your hand and placed it in your coat pocket. “Oh, no, no, no. I am not crashing your Christmas dinner.”

He let out a small laugh. “You wouldn’t be crashing it, darling. I invited you, there’s clearly a difference.”

You had to admit that him calling you darling made your heart race, you could get used to him saying that. “But your family won’t be expecting me, and what if your family gets mad because there’s not enough food for another person and-”

“It’ll be fine.” He took his free hand out of his coat pocket and grabbed your hand. “I already called an Uber and from the looks of it, I believe it’s already here.” He pointed to the car that was parked by the curb, the Uber logo visible in the window.

You stopped in your tracks again. “But I don’t know your family, what if you guys are like, I don’t know, murderers?”

Tom snorted out a laugh. “Trust me love, if I was a murderer, I would’ve killed you a long time ago. After all, it was just the two of us alone in the shop for a whole hour.” He was still holding your hand, shifting it so he could lace his fingers with yours. The two of you walked hand in hand towards the car, and when you were close enough, Tom opened the door for you. You buckled in the seatbelt, and a second later Tom was in the car doing the same.

“Merry Christmas Tom.” You looked up at him, smiling.

“Merry Christmas to you too Y/N.” He answered as he reached for your hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Maybe this Christmas won’t be as terrible as the others, you thought. Maybe things will be alright, you thought as you looked out the car window.

additional a/n; chapter two will be posted next week on 11/27!

series taglist + regular taglist: @scarletxwidow @fangirlwithasweettooth @lmaotshollandd @musicalkeys @calltothewild @finelinesupremacy @quaksonhehe @geminiparkers @thenoddingbunny-blog @imperfxctly-me @wunder-13 @weirdowithnobeardo

#tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland x female reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland series #tom holland #tom holland christmas #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland and y/n #tom holland and reader #tom holland and you #tom holland reader insert #mine

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mrwinterr · 4 years

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3AM

Pairing: Leo West x Female Reader

Summary: You should go home, but you always end up in his room and this time he isn’t letting you walk away from him again.

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual sex, unprotected sex, oral [female receiving], hand job, vaginal fingering, cum play, cock warming and dirty talk). Pillow talk. Language. Angst, I guess. & mentions of alcohol.

Disclaimer: Minor elements of the film Ibiza (2018) are present in this. More like one or two out of context spoilers. It wouldn’t really ruin the movie. You don’t have to watch it to read this.

Title Inspiration: “3AM” by You Me At Six

A/N: I caved. I’ve finally written something for one of Richard Madden’s characters. Personally, I would’ve never watched Ibiza, but it was on Netflix, I was on furlough from my job, and quite frankly Leo West is fucking perfect.

Deep breaths. Deep and calculated breaths. For some reason you paid more attention to your breathing when inebriated. Your eyelids felt extra heavy as you struggled to not only keep them open, but also your line of vision straight. The pores of your body were seeping out sweat from the copious amount of alcohol you’d consumed. The air was stuffy, and you kept sniffling.

You wanted to blame the last part solely on the alcohol too, but you couldn’t escape the real reason that drove you to spend hours at a bar in the first place. Historically speaking, you liked to enjoy yourself, maybe a bit more than others, and while it was reckless, that lifestyle introduced you to one of your favorite things on this planet. It wasn’t the drinks, the substances or the sex, but a humble, very talented now turned international superstar DJ.

It led you to Leo West.

It was at a small, dark club on a busy weekend. You were closing in on finals week and what better way to de-stress than a night out on the street. Your friends opted for this particular joint because of the aesthetic, but you didn’t care about its appearance. It was a bar nonetheless, the place always catered to live music and you loved that.

You remembered how puzzling it was to not see the usual instruments, like that of a guitar or a drum kit or a set of keyboards or even a lone microphone stand on the makeshift stage that had one dimmed spotlight. Instead, there was just a table with a case, a laptop, a turntable and a pair of headphones displayed on top of it. Oh, and lots of wires and buttons and knobs everywhere!

Great. A wannabe DJ was scheduled tonight that would most likely go overkill on the bass and damage your eardrums. You weren’t drunk enough to stick around for this, so you walked back to the bar, hoping if you got a few more drinks in you then maybe the “DJ” wouldn’t sound as bad as you were expecting.

Claiming a spot, drink in hand, your eyes started scanning the small capacity crowd until they locked on a man and his path up to the stage and behind the setup. The intro music he picked out started playing, but it fell deaf on your ears. And your whole world just stopped when he looked up, the first of many “performer-to-audience” eye contact that night. He just couldn’t keep his eyes off you each time he looked into the small crowd. It all but allowed you a better look at him.

He wasn’t as defined back then, the t-shirt hung loose on his body, but he was still built nicely. His hair was curlier, definitely didn’t have the money to have it styled and cut or dyed, no trace of the signature gray streak in the front, nor was it maintained like it was now. He was very handsome. And his voice, when he spoke into the microphone clumsily, your heart melted. He wasn’t from here, and you wondered how the world brought this cute, awkward guy all the way from Scotland here to you.

When his set ended, he appeared next to you at the bar ordering a drink. He looked over at you and smiled sheepishly. He was adorable. You were done. You were always a confident person, and you mentally cursed yourself for even feeling like this. You didn’t do serious relationships. There just wasn’t any time for one in your life right now. You were young, still are, and the only thing you’d wanted from anyone was a distraction here and there.

He told you his name. You told him yours. He commented on the necklace you were wearing. You complimented his set. You even teased him about seeing him trip over one of his wires. He thought no one was paying attention, but you were. The two of you talked and talked until last call and the bartenders were begging you both to leave so they could close up shop.

That led you to his place. You learned he’d transferred from overseas to study music and was looking to break out in this country. He wanted to make it big time. You admired him for that. Then there you were pathetically telling him your small-town goals, it seemed dull compared to his, but Leo never wanted to make you feel that way as his words assured you that they weren’t and only encouraged you further.

The attraction wasn’t lost between you two either. You didn’t go home that night. You stayed and what was supposed to be one turned into many nights tangled in one another. You frequented his bed often to the point it looked official to everyone - except it never was. Leo made it loud and clear he wanted to be with you, but you kept bypassing his proclamations. He became none but a standby in your haze.

He just made it too easy to feel. With him everything was easy; not a care in the world, just you and him. It could and should be just that - easy - but your heart and mind didn’t ever make it that way for you. They wanted two different things. Your heart wanted Leo, but your mind said it wasn’t worth it.

He’d make it big one day, no doubt about that. He got good each and every set you saw him put on. He’d travel more, settle in a much more exciting area, find someone who could commit and keep up with his new life. You knew it wouldn’t be fair to have Leo wait around for you to change, but getting your shit together was something you had to do at your own pace.

Once you graduated and his advancements were becoming a bit more serious, you started to turn a new leaf. You did it to be a better version of yourself for him because he deserved it that much, but he always claimed he wanted you – whatever version he could have. At least that’s what he had you convinced of up until you saw him lock eyes and signal over to another girl in the massive crowd several hours ago.

What the fuck? That was your whole reaction. How could he? He always said no matter how big the numbers he played, he’d always and only see you. He didn’t look anywhere else besides her during the set, well you didn’t care anymore because you left after seeing them walk to the back. Did he not mean a single word he said to you? All those nights in bed, was it all just pillow talk? Figures. You didn’t want to get upset because you let it come to this.

In that moment, you just couldn’t forget all the pretty lies. You’re mindlessly scrolling through the messages on your phone, until your blurry eyes see his name and the distinct emoji assigned next to it. Based on the thread, you thought you were both heading towards the same page. It shouldn’t have been this complicated. Now all that’s left is yourself staring down at an old text message he sent, no longer wondering if he really meant any word of it. It hurt. It really fucking hurt.Your mind was proven right and now your heart paid the price.

“Miss? We’re here.” You pick up your head that was slumped against the side of the cab window and nod in acknowledgement.

You stuff your phone in your purse, pay for your fare, stumble along the stones of the pavement, on the steps of the complex and into the elevator up to the highest floor. You stare at the numbers on the door, hoping they’d line up and still, before you slip the spare key card into the slot and barge right into the suite.

You walk right out of your heels, and on your path to the glass doors and window, you aimlessly toss your purse over the expensive couch, and expertly reach for the zipper behind your back, dragging it down along the dress you were wearing, allowing it to pool at your ankles only for you to kick it away soon after. Forget the fact that you splurged a bit more than usual on it in hopes for a celebration of some sort.

When you stepped outside, you headed straight into the hot tub that also provided an overlook of the city. As you slowly descend neck deep into the hot water, you close your eyes and lean your head back on the edge, feeling the muscles in your body begin to loosen up. The jet streams of the hot tub that caused the bubbles collided headfirst with your back, and a taste of the midnight air in your face, all offered you only a temporary high. You used to think the hot tub was a bit too much at the time, but now you were basking in it.

For a moment you think you could just pass out right there, when you hear him say your name from behind. Your eyes flutter open and you hear the floorboards lightly creek with the thuds of his heavy footsteps as he makes his way to sit on the edge of one side of the rectangular tub. You don’t dare divert your eyes over in his direction just yet.

“It’s 3 a.m.” Leo states; an all too familiar scene for the both of you, and even though you’re not looking at him you can hear the concern in his voice. You roll your eyes at the obvious, not giving a damn if he saw, and then at the idea of him being concerned about you.

He senses the discomfort in the air and is hesitant in choosing what he should say next. He hated being on your bad side and judging by your demeanor you were mad. “You should probably go home,” he suggests after getting no response from you.

Only when he moves to get up and fetch a nearby towel, you turn your head and speak, “Why? Is she here?” It meant to come out as casual, but it came out more spiteful.

The muscles of his back contract and he visibly tenses at your cold tone. “What?” Leo questions, turning his head to look over his shoulder.

“I saw you!” You say, sitting up straight and getting ready to step out of the tub.

Leo is quick to assist you as he his entire body spins around, a rolled up towel in hand, “You’re not thinking straight-” he says and attempts to cover you up, but you snatch the towel from him and help yourself out of the tub. Water sloshes around as Leo puts his hands out, eyeing your every move the whole time in fear of you slipping and falling.

He follows you back into the suite and calls out your name again, but hearing it flow out of his mouth in his voice starts to hurt more and more.

“I’m not fucking blind, Leo!” You shout, whipping around and with your hands out in frustration.

“Shh! Please. The neighbors are sleeping!” He pleads, grabbing you by your wrist bringing them in and pulling you close to him. Your face is almost nose-to-nose with his, but you lean your head back just slightly in defiance.

“I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck.” You say in a more indoor friendly volume, emphasizing each word, effectively letting him how mad you still were. The close proximity gives him a whiff of the alcohol on your breath. You were drunk. He thought you’d stopped this destructive habit.

“I don’t get you,” he says barely above a whisper. It wasn’t meant to come out, but his thoughts always left his mind around you.

“Me?” you ask quizzically, noticing the strong look of confusion etched all over his pretty face, “I don’t get you, Leo,” you couldn’t hold it in anymore, “you begged me to come watch your set tonight,” pulling one of your wrists out from his grip, poking a finger at his chest.

“You said you were busy with work-“ he says then grabbing the loose hand stabbing at him in his larger one.

“I wanted to surprise you,” you explain, voice cracking under it all, “I didn’t think it was going to work because you said,” the atmosphere grows thick and you struggle to speak, “you said no matter how big of a crowd you were playing that you’d always see me, but you didn’t.” You always had a pretty good idea that Leo would wait for you, but when he failed to spot you tonight, you really thought you’d lost him for good this time.

Then he understood why you were upset. You saw him make signals to another woman and take her backstage, where all he was trying to do was help the poor girl and tell her she had a penis drawn on her face with a black light marker. He never saw her again after that. All that did was paint the wrong picture in your eyes.

Leo looked down, breaking the intense eye contact. It was probably best he didn’t see the tears in the corner of your eyes that were threatening to fall, but he didn’t cast his gaze away fast enough as they ran down in streaks, staining your face. He just didn’t know where to start.

You had been there for him tonight. He’d been really happy lately, especially when you started responding and returning his gestures. He thought he was finally going somewhere with you. And here you are, revealing you’d sacrificed and made time to see him play and he didn’t even see you. That led you down to a bar and into an old habit you’d gotten rid of lately, but he just threw you back into the pit unintentionally.

“I should go home,” you say, defeated and breaking away from him. You wipe at your face, trying to clear the make-up that was out of place and turn to pick up your discarded dress off the floor.

“No, don’t. Don’t leave me,” Leo says frantically reaching out for you. Another act within the all too familiar scene; he always hated this part and seeing it replay over and over. All those times you walked out, scared of something, he wasn’t going to let it happen again. He stumbles a bit as he manages to grab your arm to turn you back and face him. You brace a hand on his strong chest preventing yourself from crashing right into him.

Deep breaths. Deep and calculated breaths. You’re counting not yours but his breaths this time. You can feel his heart racing as you stare at his plump lips, parted and each exhale fanning against your face. His hands come up to cradle your face; and while alcohol had its way with making parts of your body feel numb, you always felt his touches. It was the best feeling.

Leo was always transparent with you and was nothing short of it in this moment as he crashed his lips into yours. He’d never been as desperate than he was now. The grip on your face was secure, hoping you wouldn’t attempt to escape again. He didn’t have to worry though because you were tired of fighting it. You’d bare yourself to him.

Your arms wrapping around his neck let him know you weren’t going anywhere this time, and he was able to let one hand reach down between your bodies to remove the towel. His touch sends shivers throughout your body as you rub up against him; your soaked undergarments leave a wet imprint on his dry clothes. His hands travel down to your thighs, giving it a light squeeze, signaling for you to jump up.

He carries you to his bedroom, lips never parting, until he has you lying down on the massive bed. He kisses you all over - your neck, collarbones, between your breasts, down your naval, hip bones, and the insides of your thighs - each kiss feels like a drug shooting through your system.

Leo tests the waters by pressing a finger to your clothed core and upon seeing the slight jolt of your hips, it gives him all the encouragement he needed to tug the damp article of clothing down your legs. He spreads your legs a bit further apart, pressing them down against the mattress, enough room for his burly body to settle between them.

His tongue darts out to your clit and you suck in a harsh breath of air at the contact. Each running pass of his tongue has you squirming, he has to use both of his hands to keep you still. The vibrations of his moans wreck all throughout your body as he sucks on the bundle of nerves.

Your hands wildly reach out in front of you, messing up his short hair, you need something to hold onto. Leo offers one hand, lacing your fingers together, yours more of a death grip in his. It only loosens when he suddenly stops.

You pick up your head that had dug deep back into the pillows to see why. You groan at the sinful sight of seeing his mouth glistening in all its glory - doused in you. Leo comes back up to level himself with you; both sets of eyes pulled together like magnets. He steadies himself with one hand above your head and the other grabs a hold of your leg, keeping them open for him, so his hand could find a clear path to your pussy.

Your slick makes it easy for him to slip his thick digits in you. Leo revels in the look on your face contorted in pleasure he is bestowing upon you. He inwardly groans at the snug grip around his fingers as he slowly pushes them in-and-out; the filthy, lewd noises only further cause his blood to rush fast down his body.

You start rocking your hips, your clit brushing past his palm with each thrust up. With a curl of his finger, he finds the spot and it's confirmed when you wrap a hand around his wrist to keep it there.

“That’s it, huh, baby?” Leo asks knowing full well he’s found the trigger, “that’s...your...spot,” and with every word his finger sinks in deeper and deeper. There’s a feral look he’s sporting, and you let out a whine in response, your fingernails puncturing his skin.

“You know what to do,” his voice turns rugged, “you know what to do, baby girl,” his fingers working faster, “come on my hand,” his forehead, sweaty, pressing against your own, “you can do it,” his soulful eyes burning a hole through yours when you finally come for him.

“Good fucking girl,” he growls against your lips. You start clawing at his white t-shirt, but it’s fitted so well, you start wrestling with the fabric to get it over his head. He chuckles lightly at you as you pout at him. He kisses the space between your eyebrows and sits up removing his shirt on his own; his bottoms follow ensuite.

You admire the expanse of his toned body for a brief moment before you pull him down back on you. Your teeth tug at his luscious lower lip then suck at it. Leo chases your tongue with his own, engrossed by your lips he’s not prepared for when you sneak a hand in his boxers and grab a hold of his length. He moans into the kiss at the contact and slides his boxers all the way off, giving him a full show of your fingers wrapped around his hard cock. You watch as he swallows the knot in his throat when your thumb swipes across at the bead of pre-cum leaking from the head.

“Yes, baby, just like that,” he says encouragingly as you start stroking him at a pace only you know he loves, “you see how good you make me feel?” It’s a question that doesn’t require an answer. He was hot and heavy in your hands and you wanted nothing more than a taste, so you switch hands bringing the sticky one up to your mouth giving your palm a broad lick as you try to lap you all of what was left of him on your skin.

His jaw visibly ticks as he watches the whole thing. You bring your wet hand back down and resume jerking him off. His breathing increases and you know he wants to cum when he involuntarily starts thrusting back, but he had other things on his agenda as he gingerly pushed your hands away.

“I wanna...inside you,” he says, still very much short of breath, this version of him only made you more wet.

“Please,” you beg, feeling his cock slide up and down your pussy, prepping him with your slick. You never begged, but for some reason you got scared that this would all end in an instance.

You let out a big sigh of relief when he pushes in and fills you up to the brim. Your eyes widen at how his cock stretches you out to accommodate his size. You feel close to bursting at just being able to feel all of him, as he stilled in you, feeling every ridge and vein. He takes a moment to himself, studying the way your body reacts to his. He’s reeling in on the warmth you provided his cock and more so his heart. You made every part of him swell up.

With a long and heavy drag out, Leo begins to thrust back in deep and slow, only increasing when he feels your hips start to retaliate back against his. He knows the pace you like it at.

“Fuck!” You yelp feeling the tip of his cock probe at the right spot.

Leo loops an arm around from beneath you, and at first you think he’s trying to bring you in closer by the hips, but instead he flips over, so you’re now settled on top of him. You support yourself with both hands on his pecs, fingers lost within the hair that sprinkled his chest, then you start grinding your hips deliciously over his. He helps you set a new rhythm with his hands on your hips. You watch as he bites his bottom lip and just the sight alone makes you want to come again.

He sits up, bracing one arm behind him for support, while the other pushes you slightly back, you have to use both hands to support your upper body, but this new position allows you both to get a good look at your bodies connected. Eyes both glued at his cock buried deep in you, you rotate your hips and moan when you feel his cock scratch along your inner walls with each swivel.

“That’s right, you know how to make me feel good...fuck, yes,” he praises then places a thumb to start rubbing circles over your sensitive clit, causing your thighs to clamp up, “that’s it baby, work that pussy on this cock...it’s all yours, beautiful.”

Once he has a good upright position, he uses his other hand to undo the clasp of your bra. He has a hard time trying to rid you of the confines, so you maneuver and sink down back on him and do it yourself. He uses both hands to pull the straps down your arms before bringing your body flush against his and reclaiming your lips.

You let out a sigh as his lips travel down your neck to your breasts, groping one and sucking on the other. Your hands find purchase in his dark sweaty locks as he pistons his hips up hitting deeper.

You pull his face away from your chest and you take note of his glossy eyes, the sweat buildup on his hairline, the creases on his forehead, his swollen lips and you’re in complete awe of just how handsome he’s always been. Leo brings a hand to your face, thumb brushing away the stray tear that escaped your eyes. You slightly turn your head in his palm so your lips can capture his thumb. The same one that was just mere moments ago rubbing circles on your clit.

Leo gasps at the sight, your eyes close from the burst of flavor of yourself on his salty digit. Your hips work harder and your thighs begin to ache. It shows, so Leo starts to pick up on the slack.

“Leo-“ you call out his name after a particular sharp thrust, your labored breathing makes it hard to voice out your desire, but he knew you were close and so was he.

His hands grope your ass as he brings your hips down hard against his, you feel the hairs on his lower abdomen rub against your clit, effectively adding on to the impending sensation.

“Come on, baby. You can do it,” his fingers would definitely leave marks your skin, but you don’t mind it because yours claw at chest, “come on my fucking cock...show me how good it feels, pretty girl.”

You shut him up with a bruising kiss and soon he’s swallowing your moans as your body starts to quake, pussy clenching tight around him. You keep your hips grounded in place when you feel the throb of each spurt of his cum that shoots deep inside you.

Both of you part your lips from one another for some needed air. You’re still experiencing a bit of an aftershock as your walls continue to contract around his cock.

“Ride it out, baby, use my cock,” he says against your lips, and assisting you with small movements up and down his cock, “that’s it. You got it. Fuck, I love you. I love you so much,” he says, wrapping his arms around your body.

Your body falters against him when you don’t fail to notice that he’s started slipping the L-Bomb in his praises. Leo feels drops of water hit his skin and when he opens his eyes, he notices your body shaking still – you’re crying.

“Hey,” he says cradling your face again, “what’s wrong?” He pulls back to inspect your body and see if you were hurt in any way.

You brace his face in both your hands to stop his eyes from wandering from anywhere else but your face. “Did you mean it?” You ask, unable to control the downpour of tears.

Leo stops moving and immediately understands what you’re asking. You’re asking if he meant it when he said you were the only one he’d ever notice. You’re asking if he meant it when he said he’d wait for you. You’re asking if he meant it when he said he loved you.

“Every word,” he confirms.

Overjoyed, you press your lips together in a tight smile, and let the rest of your tears fall. He lets you rest your head on the crook of his neck as he rubbed soothing patterns on your back in attempts to calm you down.

When you do, you pull away and finally say it back, “I love you too, Leo West. I’ve always been in love with you,” and watching the big smile on his face was almost enough to cure you.

He meticulously pulls out of you, slight signs of his cum seeping out and running down your thighs, and helps you off him. You both settle down on the bed, bodies parallel, both on your sides, silently staring at one another. You absentmindedly brushing the gray lock of hair away from his forehead.

“Nothing happened with her,” Leo says breaking the comfortable silence. He wanted to bring tonight to attention because he meant it when he told you previously that he doesn’t bring anyone back home. You almost forgot about tonight but are still relieved to hear him put to rest any suspicious thoughts.

“I’m scared,” you admit. The first step had been admitting you had loved him back this whole time, but you still had to face the fact that you both were on two different schedules and you feared the worst it wouldn’t work out.

“Come with me,” he proposes.

“What?” You ask completely taken back at the offer.

“Come on tour with me,” he says a bit more specifically.

You’d already proven you were willing to drop work for him by showing up at his gig tonight, but were you willing to leave your old life behind to follow his?

Then the biggest smile on Leo’s face confirms everything when you respond, “okay.”

A/N: Leo West is so precious! & for the record, I too would drop everything to follow him. Lol. I may write more Richard Madden fics, idk yet. Please let me know if you liked this or what. Thanks for reading!

#mrwinterr writes #richard madden imagine #richard madden smut #richard madden fanfic #richard madden x female reader #richard madden x reader #richard madden x y/n #leo west imagine #leo west smut #leo west x reader

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the-moon-prince · 3 years

Text

The Last Of us~Kurapika x Reader ~Chapter VI

AN: Hi my lovely fellows!

I’m glad to deliver the sixth chapter of my story! I want to thank you, from the bottom of my soul, for your support. It really means a lot to me!<3

I wish you a pleasant read, and I hope you’ll enjoy the new chapter of my story. (Chapter I) (Chapter II) (Chapter III) (Chapter IV )(Chapter V) (Chapter VII coming soon!)

Paring: Kurapika Kurta x GN! Reader

Word count: 2 449

TW: None!

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The buzzing sound of the alarm loaded Kurapika's ears.

This time it was not a "Tic-Tic" sound. It was an unfamiliar tune. Starting with sonsy drums and trumpets. The music was in crescendo with a chorus that sang "love, love, love" until a male voice sang

"There's nothing you can do that can't be done~"

"Nothing you can sing that can't be sung~"

A cheesy way to start the day. It was different from the rest of his mornings. It felt warm. Only it wasn't the kind of heat he habitually woke up wilting from a nightmare. It was the feeling of homely warmth and tenderness. Remembering the comparable emotion you have when you are unwell and your mother hugs you.

He sensed something twirl beside him, he began to open his somnolent eyes. That fatigue was not the usual either. Instead of a burning and stinging in the eyes, he felt a comfort he didn't want to abandon. The movements continued until they extended to the covers that surrounded him, to ultimately calm and recover a state of calm. The music ceased as well. It wasn't his pillow, it wasn't his bed, and the chamber was alien to him. It surprisingly smelled distinct. The first item he saw when his sight adjusted were frizzy (hair color) (curls/waves/strands). (Y/n) was standing on the left side of the bed. They had a bed-hair. He certainly wanted to see that goofy bed-hair very more often.

"Shhh shhh, sorry I disturbed you."-their voice was crispy.-"Go back to rest, I'll return a touch later to nudge you."

Kurapika allowed himself to a defeat and laid his head back on the pillow. Some seasons had passed since he had a restful night. He was able to hear the sound of an opening door for it to immediately close, followed by the flow of water. The door was opened again, and an extra further door gave a short crack noise. Kurapika doesn't quite recall how long it lasted, but (Y/n) returned to the room. They placed a cup of hot black coffee on the night table.

"What time is it?"-Kurapika groaned and tried to rejoin.

"Good morning sunshine, and it's 4:23 am"-they answered, sitting in bed with another cup in their hands.

"Why are you doing so early? Not even I arise that betimes."- He stirred early, he had to. But this seemed absurd.

"I must be in the psychiatric ward. I have patients who rely on me. I'll be exiting the home in a moment."-He was shocked at how composed they were, considering the events of the night before. They continued their routine impassively as if nothing disagreeable had occurred.-"Would you desire for me to drive you to the Nostrade mansion?"-(Y/n) suggested to him with a smile. He almost forgot he had to work that day.

"I will get prepared for the moment,"-He sat, resting his back on the bed frame, reaching for the coffee.”And your proposition would be convenient." The caffeine intake helped him shake the drowsiness off his mind.

"I would be amazed to propose to you something to eat, but I only possess chocolate robots at the moment. You don't exactly appear the type of person to have that for breakfast."-they provided an apologetic smile, half-joking half-ashamed.

"Do you ever eat something besides sweets?"-It was agreeable to joke a little in the mornings.

"I ate the flowers you gave me."-(Y/n) answered with the most solemn voice they could deliver. The first time in his 19 years of life that Kurapika heard something of that bearing.

"You ate them?"-Although it was evident that it was not a joke, it seemed so outlandish that he did not see another explanation.

"Yes! Peonies and carnations are edible! Although they taste sweet and fruity. So it might count as sweet." they affirmed smiling.

Sometimes the sincerity of that person perplexed him. They could say the most unthinkable things in the most sudden moments. Above all, with an enormous naturalness. He even wondered if they were even conscious that they did.

The handy part of sleeping dressed was that getting ready was rather quick. Once he put on the black jacket, the wrinkles on his shirt were hardly noticeable. Though, as much as he would love to stay and talk to (Y/n) all morning, the depart ended up arriving. What if the two of them could skip work with an excuse? It was possible. However, both were stiff with their obligations, so it was not feasible. Kurapika was going to show up pretty early for work, he didn't care if it meant to spend more time with (Y/n).

During most of the voyage, he stared at (Y/n) driving and chatting.

"You always use the same earrings." He remarked, staring at the drop-shaped pearl pendants dangling from their ears. They turned to see him and agreed.

"You also wear your red earrings every day."-they were getting close to the Nostrade's residency.

"You're not wrong."-Between spending the day with Neon or with (Y/n), he preferred the latest option by a lot.

"I rarely am, dear. I wish you a good day!"-Kurapika no longer remembered the last time someone wished him a good day in the morning.

8 pm, another day had passed. If Neon's attitude hadn't improved since the beginning of her therapy, Kurapika had no idea if he would still put up with her whims. Whoever worked for her without attempting against her life was a saint. However, his crusade hadn't ended yet, remote from that. The advantage of that specific job brought was being able to maintain close contact with the flesh trafficking industry. Kurapika was finally exiting through the vast gate of the Nostrade mansion. Being able to get to work on his vendetta again.

"Kurapika!"- a voice he knew fully squealed. He turned in the direction it came from, to make sure it wasn't a dream. He had his suspicions about working for Neon for so long that it gave him some variety of brain damage. Luckily not. It was (Y/n), running towards his direction, nearly stumbling in the middle of the path. If they were coming to him like that, something serious must have happened.

"(Y/n)! What are you doing here?! What happened?! Aren't you supposed to be on guard? Why didn't you call me? "-the blonde interrogated packed with worry.

They were panting laboriously, as they inclined on their legs to catch their breath and raised their index asking for a moment.

"I'm presumably to be on my pause, plus you weren't answering your cell phone..."-their face was darker due to the lack of oxygen-"I received information regarding a pair."- they murmured to be prudent. To avoid malicious overhears, they continued their chat in the car.

"I had a proposal from an acquaintance to purchase a pair of scarlet eyes!

The only setback is that it has to be tonight because he has another interested. For my part, with the ward, I'm available. I told the nurses that I would use my recess and would be back."- It was explicit that (Y/n) had already taken charge of organizing the plan so that it could be implemented immediately.-"Reasonably, I haven't confirmed the purchase yet. As the principal concerned I judged proper to tell you first."

"This is a fabulous opportunity, thank you (Y/n). Confirm our attendance."

It was agreed that the purchase would take place at 9 o'clock, In a black market shop located in YorkNew's downtown. The pair would cost 1,450,000 Jennys.

Although the connections and information of (Y/n) were trustworthy and had been valuable until the present day, Kurapika still wanted more information regarding the plan. He wanted to prioritize their safety.

"Where do you know the individual from?"- Kurapika hinted, trying to obtain information without directly doubting the references.

"I have... I've purchased articles from him before. I am a frequent customer, he maintains me abreast of his inventory as well as offers."- they informed.-"In those commerces, information travels at great speed. As I've been seeking information on the scarlet eyes, he found out."-He could then conclude it was a credible provider.

Since the dilemma was solved, he could ease a bit.-"In the first instance, when I listened to your voice, I believed I was hallucinating, and working for Neon for a prolonged amount of time had caused me brain damage!"-Kurapika laughed

"Oh! But it's plausible."-they did not understand it was merely a joke-"Chronic Stress produces autophagia in neural stem cells. Normally autophagia is a process to protect cells from unfavorable conditions through the digestion of inner cell materials. However, under certain circumstances, this survival method degenerates into self-destruction. Essentially, the neural cells commit suicide, concluding in brain damage. Plus, chronic stress enhance the risk of neurodegenerative diseases like Alzheimer's disease."-It sometimes was bothersome to date a psychiatrist...-"Even if it was only a pun, I'm a tad concerned about you, Kurapika."-At the end, they got the joke, they were just being a doctor.

Kurapika couldn't decide whether to be frustrated for his joke or flattered that (Y/n) cared so much about him.

At the accorded place an hour, they entered the shop. An old man with big glasses and a suit greeted them.

"Mx. (Y/n)! It's always pleasant to see one of my favorite customers!"-his voice was croaky and rusty.-"I'm glad you accepted the offer."

The elder was very polite towards (Y/n).

"Helle Mr. Richard, I may say the same. I brought Kurapika with me, my bodyguard,"-the same strategy as the previous times.-" he will accompany us."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr.Kurapika."-the rusty voice spoke once more.-"Since we are dealing with a more elegant object, it is stored in the back room. Be so kind to accompany me there."- the so-named Richard pointed at a big wooden door at the back of the store as he directed it.

He opened the door for them after they were all inside, closed the door again. Richard sat at the end of a big ornamented oak desk. There were also oak chairs with padding on the other side of the desk. The man motioned for them to sit down. He continued to pull out the vials with the pair of scarlet eyes.

"Both of you can confirm that they are authentic. And the agreed price was 1,450,000 Jennys"-The white-haired senior placed the vials in the middle of the table and reached out his hand, waiting for the money.

(Y/n) took out of their customary side-bag an envelope to deliver it with both hands. The elder took it and pulled out the cash and began to count. All the actions were carried upon the table and in the view of all presents.

"Everything is perfect, as always. Thanks, always a pleasure to do business with you Mx-"

The sentence was interrupted by a loud crash.

The wooden door had been knocked down, and a group of armed men began to enter the place. With the loud noise (Y/n) swiftly took the vials with the scarlet eyes and pressed them protectively.

"What is happening here, what is this intrusion into my establishment?!"-Richard exclaimed, his voice sounding even rustier.

"These two attacked one of the associates some time ago."- One of the men, presumably the head of the gang, spoke. He had a sloppy beard and reeked of cheap tobacco. He also had a disastrous taste for fashion. He wore a tacky shirt with half the buttons unbuttoned, garish orange fishnets that didn't match at all, and a vulgar red hanky that was sticking out of his shirt's pocket.

"Both of you, don't move. The information runs around here."-the men approached to talk directly to Kurapika and (Y/n).-"We learn that a pale man with blond straight hair wearing a suit and a (skin/color) person with (hair color) (curly/wavy/straight) hair who dressed pretentiously with flowers, both searching for scarlet eyes, attacked one of our sellers. What do you think, we were not going to find you?"-the pestilence was even more intense up close.-"The boss is not far away. You'll see, duo of idiots."

The situation was complicated, Kurapika couldn't use most of his chains if it wasn't against the Spiders. (Y/n) could only use Misericordiae, since they did not know the attackers adequately to use their distinct technique. Plus with the one they had available, they couldn't kill. There was the possibility of a melee attack. Only it was the least viable option. Kurapika would have to use his scarlet eyes or (Y/n) use their feline form. It involved putting their identities in jeopardy, and they still didn't know if the circumstance was desperate to get to that point. The best choice was to divert the group of men to head to the window and jump to escape. The reversal was that to minimize the damage from the shattered glass, they would have to shield themselves with both arms.

"(Y/n), leave the eyes. I'll use my Dowsing Chain to move the enemies aside and leave by the window."-Kurapika bossed after a moment of reflection. It was still the option with the highest probability of success.

"No, these eyes belong with you. I'm not leaving without them."-(Y/n) growled. They had a look of pure completion, almost as if that judgment contained all their credos compressed.-

Kurapika couldn't avoid conjuring "This is the worst moment to unleash their stubbornness."-"(Y/n), listen to me!"-he was starting to lose his patience.

"No! I have an approach. Trust me please."-(Y/n) glanced down at their left hand, laced with white ribbon. It was gradually diffusing across the carpet.

Before any action could be taken, a man, much properly dressed-The leader of the deluded men's ball, most likely.- entered the room yelling with a deep crusty voice and a foreign intonation.

"Okay pack of idiots. That in the end, you did your silly duty. Where are the two rats?".-The man was flat and plump. He was middle-aged, with a round face, almost bald. He was dressed in a semi-formal, dark gray suit: he wore a geometric patterned tie and matching tissue in his vest's pocket. He entered taking big steps and turned to Kurapika and (Y/n).

At the moment he saw them, his eyes widened, and voiced full of shock.

"(Y/n)?!"

#kurapika imagine #kurapika #hunter x hunter #kurapika kurta #kurapika hxh #hxh #hxh x reader #kurapika kurta x reader #kurapika x reader #hxh scenarios

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rpmemesbyarat · 3 years

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RP meme from Tori Amos quotes

- Healing takes courage, and we all have courage, even if we have to dig a little to find it.

- I think that people who can't believe in fairies aren't worth knowing.

- I know I'm an acquired taste - I'm anchovies. And not everybody wants those hairy little things.

- Some of the most wonderful people are the ones who don't fit into boxes.

- I have so many different personalities in me and I still feel lonely.

- The violence between women is unbelievable.

- I'm too wacky for most weirdos. Who am I to judge?

- If they keep crashing stuff into the moon, the moon's gonna get pissed off, and the tides'll change, and all the women'll start PMS-ing together. Then you guys are going to fucking regret it.

- If you really want a challenge, just deal with yourself.

- I don't see myself as weird, I just see myself as honest.

- I see the dream and I see the nightmare, and I believe you can't have the dream without the nightmare.

- Some people are afraid of what they might find if they try to analyze themselves too much.

- Once the bleeding starts, the cleansing can begin.

- On some of my darkest days, Lucifer's the one who comes and gives me an ice cream.

- Most people would rather be sheep than stand on their own with antlers on.

- The sense of loss is such a tricky one, because we always feel like our worth is tied up into stuff that we have, not that our worth can grow with things we are willing to lose.

- When you've got the virgin and the whore sitting next to each other, they're likely to judge each other harshly.

- I think you have to know who you are.

- Get to know the monster that lives in your soul.

- Dive deep into your soul and explore it.

- I don’t want to renounce my dark side.

- The truth has always held an enormous interest for me.

- Healing for me is being able to sit next to the butcher and say 'Yes, I’m sitting next to the butcher now,' instead of saying 'there is no butcher'.

- This is very simple in the world of chicks; some are hoochies, some are not, and some should never try to be.

- We don't often see our own stories. Good artists are the ones that whisper our own stories back to us.

- Music is about all of your senses, not just hearing.

- Again, we go back to the power of words and how they can make you feel. They bring liberation or stagnation, they're chains.

- You don't have to apologize for growing and learning and changing your mind.

- Music has an alchemical quality.

- Certain relationships can just wear you down.

- Containment of your opinion is a must if you are going to nurture an artist's development.

- It's a good thing I'm curious, because sometimes I just research how a soccer player kicks a ball and the impact it has on his foot. I haven't used this yet, but I might.

- But over the years you can cultivate hate for the art you love.

- I don’t believe anyone’s story is boring. Every story has value because it belongs only to you.

- Sometimes I fantasize backstage about how people do their laundry. Woolite? Mixed-color loads? Do they fold? Do they press? Do they Shout it out? And the thing that kills me—do their whites come out dingy?

- Our generation has an incredible amount of realism, yet at the same time it loves to complain and not really change.

- We like our pain. And we’re packaging it, and we’re selling it.

- Festivals or radio shows can be the heavyweight championships of arrogantly detached clusterfucks.

- People who are addicted to power can live on the same street or attend the same school as us or even play on the world stage.

- None of us are this light and dark fantasy. What's dark to you may be light to me and vice versa.

- I don't think that many performers necessarily want to see their audience empowered. I think a lot of performers, no different from priests, need the hierarchy.

- Modern, celebrity-driven entertainment turns the stage into an altar, and so many celebrities refuse to be removed from those altars once they manage to ascend.

- All storytellers, all troubadours worth their salt knew their myths.

- The Sídh's historical myth is the source of the bastardized concept of a fairy—as if anyone gives a rat's ass.

- The problem with Christianity is, they think everything is about outside forces, good and evil. There's not a lot of inner work encouraged.

- Over the last few hours I've allowed myself to feel defeated, and just like she said if you allow yourself to feel the way you really feel, maybe you won't be afraid of that feeling anymore.

- I'm the queen of the nerds.

- Don't give up. Don't listen to these foolish critics that are so small minded they don't get it tonight.

- Sometimes listening to music can motivate you.

- I think even in a good marriage, especially if you stay together long enough, there are going to be events that happen.

- An ounce of breast milk is even more potent than the finest tequila.

- Music is always a reflection of what's going on in the hearts and minds of the culture.

- Many people lock a part of themselves away. It's a bit sacred.

- I've always seen the songs as having a consciousness.

- Our world is a huge mess right now, and not big enough for masses of intolerant people.

- We are all fairies living underneath a leaf of a lily pad.

- That is some funky-fresh, pop lockin' shit.

- If I saw someone destroy a piano I'd fuckin' kill 'em. Wouldn't think twice.

- I experiment with things that are usually an internal experience, because that's just what excites me. And yes, it does sometimes give me visions.

- Some of those trips were eighteen hours long and I'll never forget, once I ended up sitting by the bush trying to ask the flowers why they didn't like me. It's like, Why can't I be your friend?

- You might not like my story because I'm not gonna tell you how it ends yet, and you need to travel it with me.

- I just imagined a huge juicy vagina coming out of the sky, raining blood over all those racist, misogynist fuckers.

- You can't control your popularity

- If you can't create physical life, you find a life force. If that's in music, that's in music.

- I started to find this deep, primitive rhythm, and I started to move to it.

-I held hands with sorrow, and I danced with her, and we giggled a bit

- I usually get myself into situations that cause sparks.

- I love feeling alive, I love walking out in the cold in my bare feet and feeling the ice on my toes.

- For the most part, pianos are female to me.

- Anger is natural. It's part of the force. You just have to learn to hang out with it.

- In our minds, love and lust are really separated.

- I think all the boys that write the screaming stuff would write the best love songs

- When you stop putting yourself on the line, and you don't touch your own heart, how do you expect to touch other people?

- Guys would sleep with a bicycle if it had the right color lip gloss on. They have no shame. They're like bull elks in a field.

- Your worst enemies are made when you ignore people.

- It's as if the horses have come to take us back, to descend, to find the dark side. By dark I mean what's hidden, not necessarily satanic.

- There's room for everybody on the planet to be creative and conscious if you are your own person. If you're trying to be like somebody else, then there is isn't.

- Sometimes you have to do what you don't like to get to where you want to be.

- You know that saying, bad things don't happen to good people? That's a lie.

- I'm not a habit, I'm a lifestyle.

- There are a lot of hidden nerds.

- People who become the front runners often used to be outcasts or loners.

- Um, don't get me wrong because I love boys, it's just that sometimes we don't need you.

- There are only ten ideas under the sun. What makes the difference is how you spice them.

- So I'm in Virginia, and I had crabs--I keep saying that! I had crab sickness, I had eaten bad crabs in Maryland!

- I'm a winter girl; I like coming out when things are desolate and everybody's ready to slit their wrists.

- You can only be you. A lot of times it's never enough for people.

- I've never played the guitar, except throwing it against the wall cause it was pissed off I couldn't play it.

- Truly, I was a sweetheart when I was little, like the Honeysuckle Faery. Sweet-pea. But sweet-peas are not popular after second grade. Sweet-peas become nerds really fast.

- I really enjoy having a giggle with a friend, but then someone crosses my line, then I don't really take it lightly.

- I sometimes forget I'm not 7'2" and a Viking.

- A boundary was crossed. And maybe I drew a boundary, consciously.

- It was a bit violent, a bit sexual.

- When nothing makes sense, music seems to come and bring me a margarita and sit down with me.

- You don't have to justify everything. Being pissed off is just absolutely okay.

- There is a level of the vampire in me, which is OK.

- It hurts me when a woman doesn't come through for me, more than a man.

- I'm a grown woman. I've earned my experiences, my scars.

- What is an angel but a ghost in drag?

- I'm beginning to accept and love the parts of me, of women that I was trained to hate all my life.

- People can be so vicious toward the imaginary world and it saddens me. You kill a lot of little people's dreams that way.

- Even if you don't read history or you aren't interested in anything that happened before the '60s, there are reasons why we think the way we do.

- That's how the story goes but I don't believe the story.

- I would find myself either the lovey-doveyest-woviest sweet pea, or a mad-woman.

- I believe in eating.

- You can't change what happened. And nobody's asking you to forgive.

- Why be afraid of these cuddly, soft, adorable things?

- I have good days. Like if I get really good coffee ice cream with just the right amount of chocolate syrup.

- A lot of people see themselves as victims, even when you have to stand in line for ice cream.

- It's so difficult to be critical of children because they need to discover themselves. We're always telling them, "No, the tree has green leaves!"

- I'm tired of being a rebel. Now I just want to be me.

- When things get really empty for me, empty in my outer life, in my inner life, the music world, the songs come across galaxies to find me.

- Do you know what it's like to be a girl and have blood running down your legs and think that you're dying, just because no one's told you that's what happens? It's horrible.

- An angel's face is tricky to wear constantly.

- Mess with me and you will not survive.

- I think that happiness is when you can let yourself feel every emotion you want at any time instead of being a lying little fuck.

- I'm not into this dieting thing.

- The cross has been used as a weapon, as it has been used against all women throughout the ages. And that's the greatest evil of all.

- I think you've got to find a giggle somewhere in stuff that would scare the poop outta ya.

- A cornflake girl is Wonderbread whereas a raisin girl is whole wheat bread.

- I would like to think I'm a raisin girl, because in my mind they're more open minded. Cornflake girls are totally self centered, don't care about anything or anybody.

- I like butter and the people who like butter."

- I'm known as that girl who has tea with the Devil.

- I'm not afraid of sadness.

- Everybody has creativity and each person has it in a different way. Some people aren't musical, some musicians can't even think about painting or gardening. There's so many different ways to be creative.

- I wanna be burned, definitely burned, like the witches.

- Give the kids tools, so they can go build their own houses; not the blueprint of what the houses should be.

- Look at me now. I'm breast feeding pigs.

- I wish I had more of a sense of humor.

- I can be so hard on people.

- If somebody's being a jerk, I would like to go wee on their head. And then I do that, mentally.

- The people on the internet know more about what I am doing than I do. Like, they will say that I am going to be in this mall on this day, and sure enough, I am there!

- I'm like a lioness who kills her own prey and no one else has to kill for her. But if some other lioness comes to me and says "I just got a good prey, do you want a piece?" I can say "of course" - and the other way around.

- There are things that I would disagree with Jesus about, and I feel really good about that.

- History has recorded some pretty nasty things that have happened to people. I think we remember. I think it's in our cells and I think it can still hurt sometimes."

- I don't believe in the saying that it all happens for the best, it's just not appropriate.

- Of course I believe in past lives, I mean, three quarters of the human race believes this, it's not like a great new thought here.

- I use innocence in my demeanor like a Venus flytrap.

- I do like to talk about things no one wants to hear at the dinner table.

- I'm not interested in being a really nice person; I want to be a creative, responsible person that's balanced.

- Boys are cute but food is cuter

- Do any of you dream about crocodiles?

-I know I dream about crocodiles. I'm obsessed with them.

- If people can't see things from the other side that's not my problem, it's theirs.

- I think I give equal time in my hatred, right?

- Sometimes I'm mad at some guy, sometimes I'm mad at some girl, and sometimes I'm totally loving some guy, so and sometimes I'm loving some girl.

_ Well, Pele is the volcano goddess and I thought of like, um, sacrificing some of the boys in my life to her but then I decided that that wasn't really a very good idea.

- Anger originates from envy and outrage, not being seen, not being heard.

- We don't know where souls go when they die. We don't know a lot of things. We didn't create the planets. We didn't do this all by ourselves. So, therefore, why wouldn't there be a creative force if it can create humans and planets?

- I've been hanging out with some of the Hell's Angels in England. They're some of the sweetest people I've ever met.

- Real friends have to be understanding of each other, and their faults.

- I think I'm really hard to get to know on a personal level.

- Thailand is calling me.

- People I see laughing all the time, check for razor blades in their anal-force underwear, because it's just a little lie.

- I'm not interested in taking drugs. I do hallucinogens once in a while for journey experiences.

- I hear the wine. It's like a structure. I see it as a piece. I hear it before I taste it. It's calling me. And then I start to hear it when I'm tasting it.

- Not that I use crystal suppositories, I'm not New Age.

- A peach tree says, 'Some of me will be juicy and some of me will be dry I'm not growing for you; I grow because that's what I do.' You always hear some person complain about how dry their peach is and the peach says, 'It's not our fault you have no understanding on the proper use for dry peaches.'

- My theory is that women were the Mona Lisas for a long time and now men are Mona Lisas with little goatees. They are our muses.

- If you're gonna tell a story, you have to grow into the head of the rapist as well as the raped.

- He was a lite sneeze, and not the flu. Most boys would like to think they're the flu, wouldn't they? But they're really just a achoo.

- If you call me an airy-fairy new age hippy waif, I will cut your penis off.

- It's a double-edged sword and if you pretend you don't want it you're a liar and that is going to rip your soul to pieces.

- I'm always dreaming that these bulls are chasing me. Half the time I don't get away - I almost get over the fence, and then they gore me.

- I believe in energy, everything is energy. And therefore sometimes magic can be created if somebody is open to letting energy do what it does, instead of being so cynical, that you miss magic happening.

- I feel like a work really has many sides to it when people have such extreme reactions. When a work is greeted with just, 'Oh, you know, it's nice', then it's not affecting people. So love it or hate it, that's okay.

- I am a real believer in looking at pain and taking it out shopping.

- The music is the magic carpet that other things take naps on.

- I just try to strip myself, peel myself like an onion. At different layers I discover stuff.

- Why is the world where it is? It's so deep-rooted, if we really start looking, and we might not like what we find. But I think we have to, we have to ask the questions.

- I'm beyond the fury of youth.

- I love young women who are angry. They're wild mustangs.

- I didn't want her looking and hearing me and thinking, "Oh my God, that's a scary lady!"

- They felt that it was detrimental material for their children and that it was blasphemous.

- They've decided they kinda' have you figured out.

- My nightmares are so bad, that I mostly reject it when my friends want to take me to a cinema to watch a horror movie. Then I say, "No, thank you. I will dream in a few hours."

- I don't know of anybody who's gonna be fulfilled if they get hit by a bus. You have to surrender to that eternal need to be fulfilled.

- How do you know I'm not having a margarita with Jesus tonight at 10 o'clock?

- Let's be honest, religion has not supported women and men exploring all sorts of their sides, their unconscious. It has not been supportive of, you know, go into the places without shame, without blame, without judgment, and just let yourself really see what's cooking in there.

- I think human beings are so much more capable of what they told us we're capable of.

- Anyone can attend yoga, kabbalah classes, church, lectures by the 'Dalai Lama', yada, yada, yada - but can you be present for your life, and live with the way you treat other people?

- Only a few people should have a "greatest hits". I'm not one of those people.

- I feel like our leaders have hijacked America's personality, and taken her to personality plastic surgery school. And they decided this is who she is.

- The playground is the biggest war-zone in the world.

- You have to read visionaries to have visions.

- They squash the baby bird because their bird got squashed.

- I love reading. I'll read the first sentence and if it makes sense to me I pick it up.

- It's ridiculous saying there's only one true faith, it's like saying there's only one map to get you up the mountain. I want to see those other maps, man.

- I kinda have all the aspects of my personality round one table for spaghetti.

- If it's too loud, turn it up.

- I was doing drugs with a South American shaman, and I really did visit the devil and, well, I had a journey.

- There is no passion without broken crockery.

- You have to ask, how could a nation nearly vote in somebody who isn't qualified for the job?

- We're living in a frightening time and I wish people would wake up and realise they're surrendering their civil liberties.

- Who wouldn't want to shag a queen?

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay memes #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #tori amos #tori amos quotes

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missinghan · 4 years

Text

「 what am I // stray kids 」

❖ genre : sci-fi; superpower au; platonic relationship au

❖ word count : 3,9k (bullet points only)

❖ warning : explicit language, most likely ain’t scientifically true at all

❖ summary : superpowers manifest in certain individuals once they hit puberty and naturally, those odd abilities will vanish as soon as adulthood occurs; but how will those teenagers protect themselves from the curiosity of science?

❖ a/n : this isn’t a proper fic since I don’t think I’ll actually write smth decent out of this but I don’t want the idea to rot inside my dungeon either- so yea, bear with me through this character intro post(?)

— bang chan ↠ locating ability-wielders & teleportation

· sometimes when he��s running errands for his parents, chan can feel a distinct ‘zing’ ins his bones if someone else with unusual abilities is nearby and can describe their power perfectly to the t; he ignores it at first but learns to make do with it eventually; can teleport another person with him and also needs to calculate carefully before teleporting because he once ends up in the middle of a freeway instead of school resulting from lack of sleep.

· looks intimidating but is the first to talk to a new kid in class and show them around as he’s president of the school’s student council; smiles and laughs a lot once you get to know him, and is also very caring, reliable.

· he wishes to apply for a music production company after his college graduation but his family turned the idea down almost immediately and sent him to a boarding school in Europe.

· chan starts taking notice in strange things at his new school after the first few weeks; for example: how they unreasonably force students to have a daily health checkup, how their food taste like medicine most of the times, teachers don’t really seem to care about what they’re teaching and some of his classmates mysteriously ‘move away’ whenever security shows up at their dorm in the middle of the night.

· after finding out where they actually are via photos of students being locked up inside cells, arms and legs chained up like domestic animals, injected with odd substances on a daily basis which were taken by an anonymous individual, chan secretly packs his stuff and decides to ditch this so-called boarding school for good.

· he works hard to hide his identity ensuing flying back to his hometown for a solid three weeks and the fact that there are more people cursed with supernatural abilities begins dawning onto him; cutting off contact with his family completely, moving from one crusty apartment to another every month, chan tackles this crazy idea of assembling a group consisted of extraordinary people to give him a hand with creating a safe environment for the ‘gifted’ youths.

— lee minho ↠ collapse

· law major, quite the loner, raised by a single mother; didn’t have much since little but his mother’s love and affection make up for everything.

· looks intimidating, is actually intimidating; the only person he talks to in college is his dance coach, doesn’t like school nor has many friends; his slightest glare is as cold as a wife trying to win custody of her children in court.

· minho can make his surroundings crumble and fall apart with his mind, which shouldn’t be confused with telekinesis since he can’t physically move objects to his will; this deadly power is triggered whenever he’s experiencing extremely negative emotions like fear or anguish and he’s not (still isn’t) very good at getting a hold of it.

· a group of suspicious men shows up at his house one day as he returns home from dance practice; they claim to be an agency looking for up and coming talents but by the way that his mother is staring at the ground nervously with her legs trembling, his institution tells him that something’s off.

· he firmly declines their offer with a stiff “I’m uncertain that I’m the talent you gentlemen are looking for, but you should know that when the cops are here to fill out their reports, I’m gonna be very helpful, as helpful as possible.”

· “what other random merry of fucking misdemeanors are going to pop up once they go through your records? domestic violence? illegal substances and weapons possession? human trafficking?”

· with a gun to her head, his mom scrambles to her knees and begs him to go with them, admitting that she’s already signed the contract; if he follows their orders and agrees to become an experimental subject, she won’t have to worry about any financial problems for the rest of her life.

· in the heat of the moment, they ultimately force him to activate his power for the very first time; as a result, his house collapses, the death of his only family and the group of men following suit.

· “I’m too late.”

· chan manages to find minho under the aftermath, severely injured and is hanging by a string of life so fragile that can only be saved after undergoing a twelve-hour operation at the hospital.

— seo changbin ↠ sound waves manipulation

· a good student, reputable within his social sphere at school, and comes from a pretty well-off family.

· changbin is able to bend and control sound waves to his advantage; whether it’s simply for his musical instruments or moving objects around, he can also use something as minor as his own heartbeat when he’s emotionally unstable; using the ability continuously for too long can give him severe migraines and potentially damage his brain to a degree if he’s not mindful of it.

· he stays up late at night to write and produce his own songs, keeping it a secret from his parents; posts his own songs on a SoundCloud account, or performs even live at a random underground club under the alias SpearB if he has the chance to.

· an organization full of outlaw scientists comes across a video of his performance on the web, analyzing how he can enhance the beat, his vocal cords without the help of any form of technology, and just like that, he easily tops the list of their targets.

· having no choice but to do what they want when those men hold his parents hostage inside his family’s mansion, changbin gets sent to the same boarding school as chan but they’re being observed in different buildings for his power is on the more useful and dangerous side; hence, his classes consist of a smaller amount of students and they are put through checkups more constantly.

· he doesn’t really pay attention to the skepticisms that reek off all over the place as he’s too busy being homesick and studying because he fully believes that the harder he works, the more obediently he acts, the sooner they’ll let him go; all hell breaks loose when those photos are scattered everywhere, from the hallways to the bathrooms; changbin takes advantage in the riot to get himself out of there as quickly as he can possibly run to the airport.

· changbin swears to never trust anyone again until chan and minho find him sleeping inside an abandoned grocery store with a pistol inside his sleeping bag, two daggers concealed in his sleeves at all times.

· “are we seriously going to contain some headass who was this close to blowing my brain out of my head?”

· “huh, funny, last time I checked, you almost smothered me to death under a gigantic block of cement when I was trying to save your life.”

· “who are you guys and how the hell did you get in here? I don’t recall not locking the door.”

— hwang hyunjin ↠ permeation & memory manipulation

· a true theater kid, meaning he knows almost everyone but every single student at school knows him; naturally, becomes the Prince after playing one too many male lead roles because of his godly features; rather well-mannered and diligent though he doesn’t look like it.

· mistaken to be a player by every new batch of freshmen that only ever gets to watch him practicing his lines from afar, swooning tremendously whenever he ties up his hair; always carries a camera around, doesn’t like to have too many friends but if you get close enough, he’s probably the most fun to be around, won’t ever judge your questionable life choices.

· hyunjin’s ability allows him to walk right through walls as well as any other solid matters but it will drain his stamina painstakingly, causing him to run short on breaths after using his power to change his costumes faster between scenes; the thicker the wall is, the more strength it takes for him to pass through completely.

· he can also erase a certain chunk of memory from someone’s mind but he needs to physically touch them; has only used this ability one time to wipe his existence out of a childhood best friend’s mind before moving away from his hometown.

· his interest in photography sparks the moment his uncle comes back from a business trip and gives him a toy camera, it’s nowhere near the real ones but the ten-year-old hwang hyunjin sure takes it very, very seriously; after a decade or so, he has replaced it with cameras that actually work and developed quite the talent for taking photos of sceneries and people (jisung is his number one victim but he can’t care less as long as he looks decent and that hyunjin won’t save any crack ones to blackmail him).

· suddenly gets a sketchy summer scholarship to a boarding school in London (the same so-called school that Chan and Changbin went to), his mom encourages him to go after looking it up on the internet without knowing the chances of her own son being exploited for twisted science is shockingly high.

· and the culprit who takes those photos during a wandering around school after curfew is none other than hyunjin himself; he knows damn well posting those photos means getting himself into trouble but heck, his conscience forbids him to leave this hell-on-earth place without alerting these innocent people.

· so the night before those photos are spread everywhere, in every corner, every edge of the building, hyunjin smashes his camera completely with a baseball bat and burns the broken bits in the school backyard; he tries getting through those sleep-deprived men in their fifties who aren’t likely paid enough with his ability and flees.

· surprisingly, he comes rushing into his best friend’s house right after his horrendous flights only to find him being surrounded by three mysterious men.

— han jisung ↠ plunder

· the jokester of the class, takes great joy in stressing the living daylights out of his professors with irrational questions that aren’t necessarily relevant to the lesson, procrastinates, and sleeps through lessons like there’s no tomorrow but still keeps that shiny ‘A’ on his report card nonetheless.

· being friends with hyunjin results in occasional admirers here and there for him but he does kinda have his own fandom base after being pulled upstage out of the blue in the middle of last year’s spring music festival, musing him an opportunity to show off his rapping skills; because of that event, he takes writing music more seriously with the stage name J.One.

· if jisung is being honest, he hardly uses his power since it’s basically taking over anyone’s body and mind for a maximum of five seconds meanwhile his own body is immobile; and if any physical effects occur (for example, a basketball hits him on the head spontaneously), he’s obligated to endure that pain for that person until they become conscious of their own body again.

· he’s not a creep, he swears.

· and who knows? what if his body gets kidnapped within those five seconds?

· hyunjin and jisung know about each other’s ability but don’t really discuss nor talk about them because they don’t find walking through walls or temporarily possessing someone’s body cool.

· well, that’s that until chan, minho and changbin show up at his house the same day when hyunjin returns from his summer exchange program with a cut lip and bruised knuckles.

· “han jisung, you’re going to have to come with us unless you want to live inside a cage for the rest of your life.”

· “I’m sorry, are you threatening me?”

· “we’re trying to protect you, smartass, you’re far too dangerous to be roaming the streets so freely.”

· “....me? I’m dangerous?”

· jisung not knowing the slightest bit about his own ability downright baffles chan—he’s only scratched the surface of it at this point; his true potential is if he’s taking over another ability-wielder’s body, he will then take their power for himself; and jisung can’t remember the last time he properly uses it either.

— lee felix ↠ imperfect invisibility

· initially lives in Australia but after finding out about his ability, he moves to Seoul with his parents to live a quieter, more covered-up life without being surrounded by too many relatives.

· an absolute sweetheart, smart, kind, honest, a little slow to read in between the lines at times; can concentrate relatively well on an empty stomach, but gets drowsy quickly after eating, especially big meals.

· lix is also homeschooled up until high school in order to avoid any unwanted situation; later on, applies for a course that can be taken online for the most parts at an average-ish university to not draw so much attention.

· since he stays at home most of the time, he spends lots of time playing different video games, experiences random cooking recipes without burning the house down, and teaches himself how to dance through online tutorials, getting awfully good at it fast partially thanks to his natural flexibility.

· he can disappear from a single person’s field of vision for as long as he wants to but it’s still limited and considered flawed since felix can only disappear from the sight one person of his choice at a time; although it can come in quite handy whenever he gets shoved into a dark alleyway by random people varying from cheap pickpockets with a box-cutting knife to muscular men dressed in black.

· learns boxing during middle school so he can still kick asses to preserve his own life.

· felix once punches jisung in the gut and slaps hyunjin in the face with a cabbage after seeing them follow each and every one of his movements the moment he steps out of the supermarket—he’s got used to listening to people’s footsteps over time.

· “okay, first of all, ow, and second of all, why did I get the punch and he got the cabbage?!”

· “oh, don’t be such a baby.”

· “you two don’t look like those balding dudes in money-dripping black suits...what are you on? crack? what do you want from me? money? food?”

· “of course we’re not balding men in their forties! I take personal offense to that! and please, who do you take me as? a total creep who only ever knows how to follow people with his stupid sidekick tagging along for background noises?”

· “HEY! I NEVER AGREED TO BE YOUR SIDEKICK!”

· “well, it’s time you fucking did then, han.”

· “you know, I suppose this is the part where you two put me to sleep with some kind of drug and bring me back to your excuse of a headquarter.”

· “oh, did you bring the anesthetic pills?”

· “I thought Changbin gave it to you, no?”

— kim seungmin ↠ time-leap

· born in a middle-class family, very studious but also enjoys playing baseball during retreats, takes time to open up to people so he has more acquaintances than close friends but he doesn’t mind, that way he has more time for himself.

· definitely and never will be the kid who lets his classmates take advantage of his wit, he does do a good chunk of every group project but makes sure everyone has at least one decent thing to do (low-key loves bossing people around); can be pretty distant at first, but he just weirds people out after getting closer and doesn’t hold grudges.

· seungmin is capable of bringing himself back to a specific past event to alter the future outcome though it won’t work most of the time unless he really, really has to for safety purposes or the situation gets out of hands; time-leaping won’t activate if he wants to retake a test but works like a charm when he tries to save a kid on the street from a car accident.

· actually does deep, proper research into other ability-wielders and often stays in school during nighttime to read the news, articles or anything that he can find on the web to learn about how that one cryptic boarding school in Europe that’s accused of abusing their students got shut down all of a sudden, the students never return and family members never bother to look for them.

· hence, he adapts to hiding his ability and himself fairly well—never takes the late-night buses, doesn’t try to become close and bond with other people, asks his parents to change the door lock every month, burns bills each time he purchases something but he tries not to go out as much as possible.

· seungmin has seen hyunjin use his power once by accident but decided to say nothing about it; eventually finds chan’s headquarter (which is just his crusty apartment) by following jisung and hyunjin after their practice hour, baffles them all a little but joins in no time.

· after asking hyunjin to erase his parents’ memory about himself, seungmin gives everyone a hand for their plan of building a school and campus, completely safe and under the radar for other ability welders until their adolescence is over; he time-leaps back to back in order to collect as much information about lottery tickets as he can.

· another flaw occurs when he travels to the past for the third time: his eyesight gets weaker and weaker every time he time-leaps so he starts wearing glasses as a temporary resolution but chan stops him when he tries to do it for the fifth time, saying that they would rather work hard for a little longer than have seungmin lose his vision forever.

· after over a year or so, they successfully repurchase an education organization and officially establish an exclusive academy for ability-wielders, reaching out to those individuals before scientists can get a hold of them.

— yang jeongin ↠ superhuman speed

· the quiet kid who most likely won’t talk unless the teacher asks him to answer a question or someone tells him to let them copy his homework; has his earbuds in most of the time to pretend he can’t hear what people are saying so he won’t have to interact with them.

· joins after you when chan finds him hitting a wall head-on at an abnormal speed while trying to save a kitten in the middle of the streets.

· jeongin has extremely enhanced agility and reflexes but he still lacks accuracy for he is naturally a clumsy person; therefore, changbin tells him to wear a protective layer under his uniform so even in the worst-case scenario, he can jump off a building and make it out with minor scratches.

· reluctantly buys lunch for every member of the student council (aka 00 liners + you) on a daily basis although he can’t really see which kind of sandwiches he’s grabbing at and they end up being mushy most of the time.

· and for those people who say his resting face is scary, he’s mainly just frustrated because of his friends.

· also usually is the one who returns with the most injuries because of his own ability—he always flees like his life depends on it to save jisung’s ass from being hit by a truck and hyunjin’s camera from being crushed (the sole purpose of the student council will be explained more thoroughly later).

· has single-handedly saved everyone inside a bookstore when a sudden fire breaks out.

· minho scolds him and felix a lot for spending too much time at the arcade after school instead of doing their required tasks.

· acts all tough and mature since he’s the youngest of the squad, loves to make fun of jisung for his height but still is and probably will always be a complete child who hates eating vegetables with a passion; gets yelled at a lot whenever there’s a BBQ party since he only ever eats meat.

· “corn? why are we raiding the Asian market for corn at one AM?”

· “an outdoor, wholesome BBQ isn’t complete without corn, duh.”

· “do you want to get us caught?!”

· “oh please, they’re going to show up either way.”

· “YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE!”

— y/n (reader) ↠ telepathic manipulation

· president of the student council, stubborn, slightly less bossy than seungmin, appears to be apathetic and cranky mainly because you can’t sleep that well; with that being said, you don’t feel too tired during ungodly hours when people are tossing around in the comfort of their bed but snap at irritating people a lot in the morning if they’re making too much noise.

· your ability allows you to control people to your will, from something as meaningless as slamming their head through a wall to life-threatening actions like forcing them to point a knife at their own throat; it’s somewhat similar to jisung’s power though you don’t have to physically feel what your target is going through and you don’t need to worry about taking over their body.

· the only downside to it is that you easily fall asleep the moment you set your target free.

· minho is the one who gets you out of the laboratory where your parents were working on a huge, secret project about individuals with supernatural abilities for an unknown organization; you’re unfortunate enough to become their first-ever experimental subject which only nourishes resentment slowly, gnawing at your sanity while you’re dreading each day behind those cold metal bars.

· perhaps joining the student council is what makes your life less depressing, perhaps; you’re far too busy facepalming at the beautiful monstrosity of their friendship and feeding them ensuing returning to the dorm after school since those boys only know how to eat, cooking is too much for them to comprehend (albeit felix).

· when your family was still… normal, your parents sent you to martial art classes every weekend so like felix, you don’t actually need your power to save yourself from some random mobsters on the streets.

· you’re also the only person who eats vegetables properly and even tries to incorporate more fiber into their diets but as always, they never listen, especially hyunjin when it comes to green onions.

· don’t have the best reputation in the academy because the idea of letting the new girl with a seemingly useless ability become president of the student council isn’t very appealing to many people, and it doesn’t help when every member of the council is exclusively allowed to drop out in the middle of a class to ‘collect’ any ability-wielders that chan manages to locate that day since he’s always worn out with changbin and minho from boring paperwork as well as other businessy stuff.

· even when your ability is considered almost perfect, you’ve only used it once when you thought minho was going to sell you off to another place and almost made him put a bullet through his own brain; you’ve refrained yourself from using it since that day.

123 notes · View notes

steveusesfaberge · 5 years

Text

3AM Talks

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Hargrove!Reader

Request: Hi!! Could you possibly do a Hargrove!Reader, where she’s Billy’s twin and Neil, hurts her one night and billy comes home after being out to find the scene and he loses it and he takes reader out to steve(whom she’s secretly dating) and tells Steve that she’s staying there whilst his parents are out and they’re both like “how the fuck do you know?” AND just super fluffy and angsty and ahhh

Summary: Y/N finds herself in charge of watching Max...except, Max is missing... By the time Billy gets home...the damage is already done. His father had never been an understanding person. Hargrove takes his sister to (begrudgingly) the one person he knows for sure will take them in. Her not-so-secret boyfriend...Steve Harrington. Billy and Steve end up have a..nice, long chat...

Type/Style: Requested, Imagine, female pronouns

Warning(s): Abusive father, violent-beginning, cursing, angst, a protective Billy-goat...

Word Count: 8,800+

a/n: Here it is! Finally!!! :D Thank you all for sticking with me! <3 Coming up are Steve Requests (I did not forget them, do not worry! :) )

It’s a bit longer than I thought...but I figure a topic like this deserves more time to be explained.

I live for Steve & Billy interactions! -- Sorry if this wasn’t what you all expected...I tried to make it as realistic as possible...without making it too long...<3

Next is a Billy fic - one that someone requested, and I’ll be doing it happily!

Sunsets Back Home & Some Steve requests as well! Hopefully getting them all out tomorrow or in the next few days! :D

I hope you like my take on the request! <3

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Y/N hummed to herself, the faint sound of Crazy For You by Madonna filled the hollows of her room. The walls were simple - the same tan coloring that Max’s and Billy’s rooms were. Unlike her brother’s innuendo posters of half-naked women, cars, and motorcycles (all of which, these bare women, were probably riding) - Y/N had band posters and a few (dressed) models scattering her four walls of space.

Her vanity mirror was placed in the corner of her room, across from her small desk. She remembered helping Max with simple things such as straightening her hair or even doing playful-one-time makeovers...(Billy had been dragged into it once...but Y/N had to promise no one would know about it and Max wasn’t allowed to see her big brother look like a complete softcock).

Y/N was sprawled out on her bed; Vogue magazine advertised before her on the sheets as she pondered if she could pull the looks these beauts did. She’d one time asked her brother if she’d be able to make Vogue - to which he responded with a snicker (the ass he was) hell no, Y/N/N. She’d roll her eyes, the running joke being well we’re twins, so looks like you ain’t makin’ it big either, B.

Normally, she and Billy would be hanging out...it was a Thursday night and she and her brother always did something fun on Thursdays (usually that involved just sitting around, swapping music and talking - but sometimes they went for late-night drives or paired up to find a party to crash...and Hargroves knew how to party...that was for sure). Time spent with Billy was time well spent, in her opinion.

But not tonight, he mentioned something about a date (which was code for one-night stand). I’ll be back, kid. Is what he’d told her, stopping by her room on his way out, leaning on her doorframe (like the ‘cool kid he was’, or as she said ‘like the fingerprint leaving asshole he was’). She’d frowned. Where are you going? Billy rolled his eyes, scratching his neck as he lazily watched her from across the way. I got a date. Sighing, she waved him off with a scrunched up nose. That’s fucking disgusting - ew, no! Billy don’t wiggle your eyebrows...get out - get out! Goodbye, Billy! He only laughed, saluting her before he continued down the hall. The thud of the front door and the piercing rev of his engine marking his departure.

She wanted to catch a movie - Back To The Future had come out and she was itching to see it...Y/N supposed she could wait another time. For now, she judged the too-skinny, too-perfect figures and welcomed her radio as a white-noise. Maybe she’d give Steve a call...was he babysitting tonight?

Her door was abruptly slammed open, giving her a heart attack on the spot - her hands fumbling with the booklet. Her y/c/e eyes snapped up, her body shocked rigid as she spotted Neil. Letting out a slow breath, she sat up, Vogue in hand as she fidgeted with the pages.

“You need something, sir?” She asked, remembering Billy who constantly told her to always stay calm, be relaxed, and act as civil as possible (even if he didn’t listen to his own advice...always being arrogant, sarcastic, and short with the man their father was...Do as I say, kid, not as I do).

Neil scanned her room as if searching for an imperfection to bring to light. Y/N only waited in a choked buzz of Bowie’s Let’s Dance, thankful that there was something else sounding off other than her own heartbeat. The tension in the room was suffocating...absolutely terrifying. When he found none, he spoke (she could almost taste his disappointment).

“Me and Susan are going out. You and your brother are going to watch Max,” He was fixing his coat’s collar and Y/N bit her lip for a moment, tapping her pointer on the magazine’s cover.

Clearing her throat, Y/N grabbed his attention,” Billy’s not home.” It felt like playing a game of chicken in the streets...which car was going to pull away first? Or...would there be a brutal accident to deal with? Would one car be worse off than the other? Y/N wasn’t sure who was winning and who was losing, all she knew, was that this game was not fun.

“You’ll be watching Maxine then, got that?” Y/N nodded. Her father raised his eyebrows - waiting for a proper response. Her mouth felt dry. “Yes, sir.”

They were gone after Susan gave a soft wave passing by, her father not giving a second thought of her as he left. The door banging shut behind him. She could breathe again...how did Billy do this? He spoke more to Neil than she did, always taking the initiative into his own hands...time and time again.

Standing up, Y/N forced her legs to work with her after that soul shaker of an interaction. Walking down the hall to Max’s room, she knocked on the door with her right hand; four raps. When there was a heartbeat of silence she wondered if Max heard her. She tried again.

Silence.

“Hey, Riding Hood? You in there?” She asked, bouncing on the balls of her heels as she waited - wanting to finish the section of Tips & Tricks For Flawless Skin - maybe she and Steve could have a spa-day...He happened to like facemasks, believe it or not (but had an odd tendency of eating the cucumbers for your eyes...). The white door was never opened, so she sighed, turning the doorknob herself.

“Hey - Maxie, did you hear me?” Y/N’s words trailed off, crashing to the floor along with her heart. The room was empty. The only sign of recent inhabitance was the open window and the absence of a familiar skateboard...

Running a hand through her hair, Y/N exited the room - calling her little sister’s name as she briskly walked to the kitchen...to the living room...and back to Max’s.

Y/N could feel a creeping terror in her throat and she wondered where Max could’ve gone. Mike’s? El’s? The Byers’? She was back in her own bedroom - pacing the carpet swiftly. The radio had been turned off so she could think and she was listening to the rhythm of blood coursing through her veins like her favorite song.

She didn’t have a car...couldn’t afford it - besides, Billy always took her wherever she needed...Y/N hadn’t needed a car up until this point. Not even when she needed to sneak out...Steve had his own car...a simple park down the block and no one would know who she was with, and where. Saying that...this was bad.

It hadn’t been the first time Max left without as much as a trace... Most times, she was back before anyone knew she was gone...other times...Billy paid for it (He tried his best to keep Y/N’s skin as flawless as Vogue’s stupid lures...he’d joke even with a busted lip that she needed to keep her skin healthy...so she can show their asses up one day!).

But that was when it was the both of them watching her...Billy wasn’t here now, it was eight o’clock...he wouldn’t be back till later...her father would be back in two hours tops - leaving her only one-hundred-twenty minutes to find Mayfield.

She quickly crossed the bedroom - exiting, and walking to the living room. She picked up the house phone and dialed the Wheelers’ number. Y/N was nervously curling the cord around her thumb and index finger, biting her lip as her eyes subconsciously kept flickering to the front door. The other line was dead for some time...she wondered if anyone was home...maybe the kids were caught up playing DnD - but then wouldn’t Karen or Ted answer for them?

There was a slight pause, a seeming hiccup - and then a voice.

“Hello? Who’s calling?” Y/N sighed, thanking her stars.

“Hey, Mrs. Wheeler - I was wondering if Max was over, it’s Y/N.” she explained while listening intently (pretending Billy and her didn’t make fun of Karen for flirting with him at the pool...That’s gross, B! -- Yeah, but it’s so funny how easy it is, Y/N!).

“Max? - Oh, the little redhead! No - haven’t seen her-- have you seen my son, by chance?” Y/N sighed, realizing Karen was in a similar situation.

She quickly mumbled a no, I’m sorry, before hanging up and biting at the skin of her cheek. “No need to worry,” she told herself softly,” Call Hopper!”

Long story short, no one picked up. She assumed El was out - probably with the party, God knows where, and Jim was probably down at the station working... The last-ditch effort she had was the Byers’. As she began punching in their house number - she stopped - remembering their phone hadn’t been working for some time...something with the kids accidentally knocking it off the wall - all Y/N knew, was that Steve had warned them not to do it (That’s all you said to stop them, Steve? -- Welll...no...I said a few other things...-- You’re useless, Harrington!) - whatever it was - but they’d done it anyway and...now the Byers’ receiver didn’t work.

Glancing at the clock mounted on the wall entering the kitchen, she saw that she had roughly an hour and thirty-six minutes...that was enough time to walk to the Byers’ and back...right? Riding a bike was out of the question, she didn’t have one and she didn’t have time to just...go buy a brand new bike either...so walking it was.

Billy had always been a good brother. In his own way, he cared (even for Max, who claimed that Hargrove couldn’t give two shits about the air I breathe as long as it's not his). Billy would always look out for both his sisters - in ways they’d never notice. He was subtle like that.

Like the times he’d scare twerps off from bothering the party...it seemed that Hargrove could be rather intimidating - especially if you were a fourteen-year-old who liked to bully his step-sister and her nerdy buds.

Or when Billy would purposefully stay up late - knowing that Y/N was upset, or maybe something was wrong; waiting for her to come knocking on his door at eleven o’clock...asking if he was still awake...

Y/N had learned, through eighteen-years of knowing Billy, he’d always be there for them...no matter what. Support them through hardships, celebrate with them through victories, and holding their hands when they were scared. He may not...always show it...but...he was doing his best - and that’s all anyone ever asked for; could ever ask for.

Y/N had halfway ran, halfway walked to the Byers - tired beyond all hell when she got there, her calfs burning. Knocking on the door obnoxiously, she waited impatiently; how much time had passed? Twenty-five minutes? Thirty-five? She wasn’t sure. It couldn’t have taken long...right?

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang--

The door was yanked open. There stood Joyce, eyes wide and a clear confusion and worry crossing her features as she took in the girl in her doorway. It was just coming nine and she hadn’t been expecting anyone...certainly not Y/N Hargrove.

“Are you okay, sweetie? Do you need something?” The mother asked quickly.

Y/N shook her head, y/c/e eyes desperate as she tugged at her y/c/h locks. “M-Max, I’m looking for Max -- is she here?”

Joyce crossed her arms, shaking her head,” No, sweetie. She left a little while ago - said she was going home.” Thank, God...

“Why did so--,” “Oh, no, ma’am! Don’t worry! I-I was just...I was...I thought she was here...turns out - she’s not...and...and she’s at home.”

Y/N’s happiness slowly melted away as she realized Max was home...alone. Max was home alone.

“I’m s-sorry for bothering you, Joyce! But I can’t stay t-to talk! I-I need to go!”

Running home was not fun. It was not easy. It was not what Y/N wanted to be doing at nine o’clock on a Thursday night. She was sweaty, exhausted, and scared. Y/N was panted hard, her legs screaming, as her street now came into view - date night was always two hours...two hours...she could be home, and act like nothing ever happened...everything would be fine...until it wasn’t.

Her father’s car was parked out front. Slowing beside it, she felt tears well up in her eyes. How long had it been there? When did they get back? Was Max home? Did they realize Max was gone? Did he realize she was gone? Which she Y/N was referring to...Y/N didn’t even know herself...either way; she was still in trouble.

She’d never been so hesitant to open the front door - the porch light wasn’t on - so maybe they weren’t expecting anyone home...but...that was just Y/N trying to comfort her raging nerves. They knew Billy was out; even then, the light was off. Neil never turned it on - claiming it was a waste of money to have it burning all night.

Y/N opened the door. It was unlocked. Had she left it unlocked? She couldn’t remember. Her house keys were in her pockets, but that didn’t mean she necessarily used them in her haste to find Max...

The lights in the house were all off...a good sign...a very good sign (she’d shut them off when she left). That’s how she took the sign anyway. The door clicked shut with a soft sound, and she inched her way down the hall. She checked Max’s room...not having to open the door as she could make out the faint glow (of what she thought to be) Max’s desk lamp casting orange underneath the doorway. Then, Y/N walked past her closed room - to Billy’s...his door was wide open and was empty. It was only nine-forty-three (which she checked while walking back to her room - stopping in the kitchen) and the house was completely still.

She didn’t like how quiet it was...but...maybe that was a good thing.

But didn’t they say; good things never last long?

She turned her doorknob and pushed the opening to reveal her room. The lights were off, save for the tickle of silver moonlight from her window. Stretching a handout, she flicked her light switch on. Her hand shot up to her mouth as she muffled a scream of surprise.

Her father was seated on her bed. He didn’t look happy.

“I-I can e---,” “Max was home alone, Y/N.” his words dug into her, slow and menacing.

“I-I didn’t--,” “I thought I told you to watch her, Y/N?” She felt small...so, so small.

“I-I know, sir - and I-I w--,” “Then tell me, why did I come home, to find your little sister, home alone...” He was standing, and at this moment, Y/N wondered over and over (like every time this happened) how Billy did it.

She couldn’t sell Max out now...if she told him Max had snuck out - Neil might get angry at her...yet, Y/N knew he always blamed the sitter...even if this was the one exception - she wasn’t going to risk it. She’d cover for Max...because...that’s what Billy would do.

“I’m s-sorry, sir.” She whispered, the fear stopping her from crying out like she wanted to do. The fear tore at her, leaving Y/N helpless and stunned like a deer in headlights. Very harsh, powerful headlights.

Neil shook his head, wiping his hand over his face, dragging it along his chin as he watched the girl still frozen in the doorway. “Come here, Y/N.” Her body didn’t move, every sense in her telling her to run...run...run...

“Y/N. Come. Here.” Like a game of Simon Says, not wanting to lose - and the commanding word being Y/N...her feet drug her forward. She stood with an arm’s length between them...but that was all he needed.

Crack.

He’d struck her across the face, her head snapping to the side at the impact. She’d expected it...but...she never could prepare herself for it. She wished Billy was here, he’d know what to do...God, she wished Billy was here...

Her chin was seized roughly, Neil forcing her to look him in the eyes, his free hand clutching her wrist tightly. She bit her lip, trying not to look weak...not to give in.

“I thought we talked about this, Y/N...what did we talk about? What do I tell you and Billy all the time?” He hissed, his fingers digging bruises into her jaw and forearm.

Her eyes welled with tears and she was thankful for the dim lighting, saving her from looking the man in the eyes and seeing the monster that lived under her bed, that ran to her closet whenever she had Billy check for her as he’d done growing up...The monster always showed up when it was most unwanted...

She was thankful Neil couldn’t see her eyes. Y/N’s y/c/e eyes were filled with fear. Filled with anxiety and a stormy glaze that could only describe this; I knew this was coming...she left...but I won’t sell her secret to you...not the devil...no... If she’d learned one thing from her brother - it was that hell was never a pretty place to be...and sometimes, it was closer than you’d think...but despite that - you never made a deal with Lucifer.

“What did we talk about? Answer. Me.” Her arm was splintering in pain, his grasp so firm she wasn’t sure blood could find her fingertips anymore. She’d turn away from him, but he held her jaw so tensely she was scared to breathe.

The number of times their father will drill into them...Respect and responsibility. Until they learned that - until he was satisfied by it - then they could rest easy. But Y/N knew...she knew the devil never played fair. No matter what she did, or what she said - she’d never hold an ace hidden up her sleeve. Not like him.

“R-Respect. A-And responsibility,” she gritted out, her lips barely moving to produce the words. Panic, frustration, and hatred keeping her mouth locked in place.

Another strike to her face, her cheek stung and she could feel the making of a bruise find her nerve ends, but she refused to cry.

“Respect a-and responsibility, sir.” Y/N repeated while trying to pull away from her father.

“Don’t.” His hand holding hers whipped up and then down, throwing her to the floor with an immense thrust. Y/N moved to stand, but a sharp pain to her side had other plans.

It rained down like a hurricane and she could only wish for it to stop. Biting back her pain, she tried protecting her head and neck - Billy taught her that.

“We went over this, Y/N!” He yelled - fists, boots, and words flying as he gave into his anger. She wondered how much her body could take before she gave up. Billy would be strong...Good God...where was Billy?

From the moment she walked in, she could tell Neil had been drinking a little - his breath smelt of dead dreams and alcohol. She assumed it came with dinner...or, for his own enjoyment...it was hard to think while her body rippled with agony.

She tried zoning it out...all of it. The beating, her father, his words...she focused on her brother, Max being safe, the party, Steve...yeah...Harrington had taken her on a lovely date the other night - he’d taken her out to the cinema, and then they’d picked all the kids up for dinner...Y/N had ended up with milkshake on her shirt (thanks to Lucas and Dustin) and Steve had offered her his jacket...it was still a fond memory - the party was like a family to her...a better family she knew than her own kin to be...

She didn’t know when it stopped, or if it would never stop...all she could see were swimming images of whom she loved until she couldn’t feel anything anymore. Everything went numb...but...maybe it was better this way.

Billy had just gotten home. It was well past one and he knew for a fact, that Susan and Neil were asleep. They were never up this late - so he’d never have to worry about getting laid in on for being out at an hour like this.

His car parked outside, he entered the house as noiselessly as silence itself. He walked down the hallway hesitantly, but the faint sound of his father’s snoring was enough to ease him to walk normally.

“Y/N? You up?” He was standing at her door. It was cracked open, the lights off. That didn’t mean she was asleep - there had been plenty of times he’d find her awake, just sitting in the dark; listening to a soft hum of her stereo...except the radio had been turned off and the only noise was the lull of night muffled by the house.

He pushed the door open, the dim touch of moonlight having him squint to see her laying on the floor. Billy rolled his eyes. Dumbass probably fell asleep - had she been reading or something again? Nonetheless, he walked over, gently leaning down to pick her up.

She didn’t even react to his arms lifting her; Y/N felt like deadweight - but it didn’t bother him. She seemed tired. He was carefully walking her to the bed, making sure she wouldn’t stir - and she didn’t...and it was now that he questioned if she were a heavy sleeper or not...Billy couldn’t remember.

He settled her down, and when he moved to cover her with the comforter - he noticed something by her nose. It was like a dark line - a streak almost. Billy used the palm of his hand to rub it away. He leaned to the lamp on her nightstand, and when it clicked on, he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t feel his heart in his chest anymore...

Black and blues littered her arms, her face was swollen and an ugly handprint was nestled on her right side, her nose was bleeding, her bottom lip was busted...he was sure if he lifted her shirt - he’d only be met with a terribly splotchy rendition of the night sky.

“Fuck, fuck, fucking hell,” he cursed, touching her shoulder gently - attempting to shake her awake. “Y/N? -- Kid? Wake up, c’mon -- it’s okay now...you’ll be okay now...it’s me...it’s Billy.”

She only groaned, a whimper escaping her at his touch - his hand jerking away like he’d encountered something hot. It seemed everything hurt...

“Y/N - please wake up, I...I need to know...what happened,” Billy knew what happened...but he needed to know how bad it was...she only moaned, a painful noise, swelled eyes not opening. He needed to know if he’d be sending a demon back to the gates of hell right now...he could live with murder...

Damnit. He slammed his hand to the headboard. His anger tickling his neck red as he thought horrible thoughts...he’d kill the bastard, he’d fucking kill him. Billy wanted to yell, he wanted to scream, but he also wanted to cry. Why’d he go out? For some stupid fuck? Why had he left her alone? Why had he left her alone? Why? Why? Why?

He’d left her...it was Thursday, for fuck's sake...it was supposed to be their night...and he’d ditched that for an easy hit and run... Billy felt like a fool. This was all his damn fault. If he’d been here, he could’ve helped her....he...he could’ve done something for her...anything...he’d have been taken the--

The low murmur of his name drew his attention, and he fell down to his knees - grabbing her hand softly in his own. He was shaking. “Y-Y/N -- it’s okay...it’s me...It’s Billy,” the blond repeated, pulling her hand up to touch his cheek, letting her know it was him; the warmth of his skin. His presence heavy as he watched her frail figure.

“H-How was your...d-date?” When she asked him that, Billy almost didn’t know what she was talking about. He shook his head and moved to pick her up - scared by the sounds of someone walking around the house.

“It was shitty,” he grumbled, easily carrying her out the door, out the house, and into his car. Her breathing was troubled - like it hurt to do so...and God, did it hurt BIlly to watch her in so much pain...

“Wh-What’s happening, B?” She asked softly, throat dry, head splitting with pain.

Billy didn’t answer her. Only held her hand as he drove...drove fast down the road.

Steve had been asleep. Why wouldn’t he be? It was one-thirty-one in the morning and it had been a Thursday night. He liked to have stayed up late, talking to his girlfriend on the phone - but Harrington knew Thursdays were reserved for Billy (even if Steve pouted...Y/N never traded those nights for anything). So, instead he figured he’d catch up on well-deserved rest - the kids had been dragging him around recently like a doll and he wasn’t sure how well his body was doing. He didn’t get paid enough - well, he didn’t get paid at all.

To be woken up by a brash hammering, he thought maybe it was just a dream...but then the sound of his name being called - along with Harrington! Get your fucking ass out here or I’ll break this goddamn door down, shithead! - was not a dream.

The brunette was groggy as he trucked down the steps, a pair of plaid boxers covering his lower body with a loose hanging T-shirt adorning his chest. His parents were out of town for work and he had the house all to himself (another reason he wanted to spent the night with Y/N - but it was Billy and her Thursday night...and she religiously scheduled it every week).

“What the hell...?” he groaned, swinging the door open to reveal a blurred figure.

Rubbing his eyes - Steve realized who it was, and suddenly his unstyled hair didn’t seem so important (because yes, he’d thought about fixing it before answering the door...he hadn’t had his priorities figured out yet, okay?! How was he supposed to know the importance?).

“H-Hargrove--,” “Move.” Billy shoved his way into the nice home - heading straight for the living room...carrying Y/N with him like a fragile piece of art. Steve raced to turn the lights on, still not understanding why the Hargroves were here - until he saw the state his girlfriend was in. (He didn’t even have time to think about how Hargrove knew exactly, where he lived...)

“W-What the fuck happened to her?” He asked, crouching down to Y/N’s level, a hand coming up to brush some y/c/h strands from her bruised face.

Billy was quiet for a moment, wiping his forehead with his shirt. “Our father.” That was all he had to say for Steve to understand...he’d been together with Y/N for...well...coming five months? He’d met her in school - fresh out of Cali...the three siblings had been the talk of the small town (especially the supposed party animal and his drop-dead-gorgeous sister).

It was love at first sight - for Harrington at least. He had tried acting cool...but that backfired as soon as he realized just how perfect Y/N was. A pretty smile, sweet laugh, delicious-smelling hair, smooth, sun-kissed skin, and to tie it all together - she came with an overbearing little bow of Billy Hargrove...

He remembered when Billy had shown up at the Byers’ house just last year - asking for his sisters...claiming a little bird told him they were with him; Steve had been trying to persuade the children to calm down and just let the starting team do their job (it hadn’t worked out).

Billy had seen Max’s head peek out and he’d already had Steve on the ground before he could justify himself. I thought I told you to stay away from my sister, Harrington? He’d given Lucas the same treatment...it had only gone downhill from there... Ending with Y/N offering to stay there with Billy for a little while, coming to help them later. She said I can’t leave him here like this...he’s my brother, Harrington... (Steve liked that idea better anyway, kept her away from the trouble).

So, when Steve had finally gotten the courage to ask Y/N out...he hadn’t been surprised when she turned him down. It only had him fight harder to prove his worth and after a torturously slow convincing...she’d finally broken...five months later and counting...and she was still by his side.

Steve had always been a bit of a worry-wart, he couldn’t help it - he watched six headass kids twenty-four-seven...it was in his blood now. “I-I’ll get the first-aid kit,” he quickly mumbled, leaving Billy to stand by his sister - a savage glint in his eyes that Harrington didn’t feel comfortable being around (they weren’t best friends after all, and Steve was sure if Billy had the chance - he’d skin him like a jack-rabbit...).

Returning within seconds, he gently lifted Y/N’s head, her slight hum all he needed to feel more relieved. “H-Hey...how you doing?” He offered weakly, placing her head back down in his lap as he balanced the kit on the armrest.

“B-Billy?” Steve shook his head, pulling a clean cloth to her face, dabbing the blood from her nose. “It’s Steve, hun.”

Y/N’s eyes were barely open, she frowned with a wince. “I’m here, kid...I’m here.” Billy’s gruff tone was enough to have her relax into Harrington’s touch without having to worry for her brother. Steve’s eyebrows furrowing, it made him sick to think she even had to worry about Billy like that.

“Hargrove - you wanna grab something in the freezer for me, like ice or whatever?” Steve asked, eyes focused on the bruises along Y/N’s cheeks. His heart was twisting, all he wanted was to cuddle her and take away all her pain...instead, he resolved on playing nurse for now.

Billy gave a curt nod, his boots fading into the kitchen. Steve took the small moment of isolation to press a gentle kiss to Y/N’s forehead. The y/c/h haired girl only looked puzzled after a half-smile tossed in his direction.

Steve was mumbling an apology as he applied disinfectant to her cut forehead, when she spoke,” W-Why am I here?” He was about to ask what she meant - Harrington figured she was here because Billy didn’t like the idea of keeping her in an unsafe environment in the state she was in...when he halted. Hand hovering over her brows.

Why did Billy bring Y/N here? There were so many other places to take her - Steve’s house couldn’t have been his first thought...and yet, as Billy walked back in, ice pack in hand...it felt like it had been.

Hargrove took a seat in the armchair nearest the couch Y/N was laid across, his elbows resting on his knees as he hid his mouth in his hands. Steve was staring at the curly-blond and Billy’s blue eyes dodged up to meet his brown ones.

“What?” Was all Billy charged while leaning back, his hands falling to his lap as he squirmed with the rings on his fingers.

Steve shook his head, breathing nothing, before looking down to his girlfriend. Billy...didn’t know...did he? No...they’d been cautious about it - meticulous and secretive - it’d been the most planning he’d ever done in his entire life...and he’d fought demodogs before...

Sure, Hargrove had the knowledge of mutual friendship between his sister and The Hair - they spent time with the party and so that was expected, being the only teens each other’s age. But, as far as Steve knew; they promised not to tell him...not yet anyway. He’d specifically told Y/N he didn’t care who she dated (it was her life after all) but God forbid it, kid - you better not end up fawning over that shithead, Harrington. No sister of mine is gonna sling it with the ex-King of Hawkins.

The distaste from one another stemmed thick and deep; Hargrove didn’t like Harrington, Harrington didn’t like Hargrove... Hiding their relationship was something that came with dating Hargrove’s beloved sister - Steve didn’t mind (much). He figured Billy would rip him a new one if he ever found out. Probably feed him to the Upside Down...or worse (What’s worse than that, Harrington? -- Being feed to Billy).

There had to be another reason Billy had taken Y/N here...and unless it was brought up in the short conversations of rival men - Steve wasn’t going to give Billy the ammunition to do shoot Steve in his own foot.

“More bruises...?” Y/N grumbled, hands skimming the ghosts of what he assumed were blooming blemishes along her stomach, back, chest...and well... her entire torso...

Steve nodded, licking his lips, his mouth dry as he ran a hand through her hair. It didn’t make him feel so hot to see the love of his life so...broken. He felt useless.

“Take your shirt off, Y/N/N so I can see what we’re dealing with,” Harrington decided, helping her sit up.

“Let it hang around your neck, kid,” Billy’s stern tone cut in, and Steve choked on his spit - Billy had been so quiet he forgot Hargrove was there.

Steve only nodded. He figured it’d be easier than taking it fully off anyway. Billy’s burning gaze didn’t help though - did he think Steve would try something? Wow...makes you feel great...Steve had some decency.

Y/N had difficulties getting her arms through their proper holes; so Steve gingerly helped her - trying not to do it for her, while also trying not to touch her for too long, on top of trying to well....help her. Billy was not making this easy.

Once the T-shirt was around her neck, hanging loosely (a pleased Billy following as it hung covering her chest, presumably what he wanted - only causing Steve to roll his eyes. He wanted to say - You know how many times I’ve seen her naked? Screw that - you know how many times I’ve undressed her? But he didn’t think he’d be safe to do so...).

“Oh, Y/N....” Steve muttered softly, biting his lip as his eyes filled with guilt. Her back was to him, and the litter of blue, black, purple, and yellow was like a child’s poorly done finger-painting. Streaks here and there, uneven and messy. Lifting his left hand, he warily brushed the skin; it was hot...feverish hot.

“I-I know...” she answered with a choked sob, her hands flying to cover her mouth. Billy was looking away from her, his eyes blinking away anger (he wasn’t about to let Harrington’s ass see him cry). “I’ll get more ice.”

Billy stood up swiftly and left the room - a slow string of curses finding him - Steve swore Hargrove thumped a fist to his kitchen counter...was Billy aware how much granite cost?

“Come here, my love,” he whispered, tugging her back into his chest. He swung his leg up to rest on the sofa, bordering where she sat as if his limb were a railing to keep her from falling.

Y/N leaned back, crying softly into his chest (it didn’t help that doing so was causing her abdomen hell). “Shhhh, it’s okay now...I’ve got you, babygirl...I’ve got you.” Y/N found solace in Steve’s words, gripping the thin material of his shirt she listened to the fast beating of his heart...

Bu-dum, bu-dum, bu-dum, bu-dum...

“I-I’m sorry...y-you have to s-see me like this,” she apologized, which only had Steve sink lower, drawing her as close as humanly possible.

He shook his head against hers as he rested his chin atop her. “No, no, no! Don’t you dare say you’re sorry, darling...this...is not your fault. It never is.” He kissed her hair tenderly and felt his own eyes well up (he refused to cry...he didn’t need Hargrove seeing him as a total softie - and Steve needed to be strong for his girl right now...).

“I-It’s so late-e though...y-you must’ve b-been asl--,” He tilted her head back, hating the way he could almost fit his hand in the same spots as the growing bruises on her jaw. He hated how the print of Neil was still glowing.

He gently shared a kiss with Y/N - forgetting Billy was in the kitchen...he could always deal with that later. She needed to know he was there...really there. Always.

“You, are the most beautiful creature...ever, and I don’t ever want you to say you’re sorry...for-r --,” he paused licking his lips and rubbing his nose to hers,”- for that bastard’s mistakes. You’re too good for that, you don’t deserve that, babygirl.” Steve would never blame her, not for anything. Certainly not this...She was like a flower - a flower that Harrington kept and cherished in his garden of gold.

He took care of it; watering it with hugs and kisses (sometimes drowning her in them...but he found that her particular type thrived on excessive gestures like so). He made sure she was healthy - always getting enough sunlight - making sure she shone that brilliant smile of hers...outdoing any star he’d ever seen...Steve made sure she could always call his garden home...that even if she had nowhere to go - he’d receive her with open, consoling arms.

Steve only hummed softly, Y/N entangled in his arms, their legs entwined as he threaded his fingers through her hair, holding her head close to his heart. He whispered sweet nothings and means of okay to her...and eventually, she gave in...Y/N fell asleep there in his arms and he’d never have it any other way.

“God, you’re such a fucking sap, Harrington,” Steve’s neck hairs stood on end - Billy was standing in the archway that connected the kitchen to the living room. Steve told himself that maybe he hadn’t heard Billy right - or hoped that Billy hadn’t heard him right...

The muscular boy walked over, handing Steve frozen peas, mumbling something about how it’d do better than the lousy packs in Harrington’s freezer.

Steve nodded, moving slowly to take it from the brother - not wanting to disturb Y/N’s sleeping form. He pressed the cold bag to her exposed back, he felt her tense up, before easing back into him.

“She um...she kinda just fell asleep on me,” he explained while avoiding eye contact with the blond. Billy took his original seat - the armchair, but this time, he wasn’t fidgeting or staring at the floor. His blue eyes were fixed on the girl.

Clearing his throat awkwardly - Steve readjusted the bag, he was sure to help sooth these marks it would end up taking more than one bag of frozen veggies to make an impact.

“How long?” Brown eyes flickered up, meeting blue.

“For?” Steve asked confused, though tried to sound as casual as possible. There weren’t very many times he and Hargrove were in one another’s company...this was the first they’d not been at each other’s throats...

Billy rolled his eyes, scratching at his neck. “How long have you been in love with her?” No beating around the bush, it seemed.

“I-I, uh, well,” Steve’s face flushed pink. The soft lighting of the numerous lamps already bathed him in orange...hopefully hiding the blush well enough. His eyes glanced to the clock by the fireplace...two-twenty-seven. God, it’s too fucking early for this bullshit....he’s really gonna do this to me? -- His sister’s half-naked on top of me...passed out -- and he’s really gonna do this to me?

Billy chuckled, though Steve didn’t see amusement reach his eyes...it was almost a forced laugh (like he was mocking Harrington). “You do love her? Don’t you, Harrington?” Steve could only nod, unsure if the answer should be yes or no...he could see both ending terribly as it was.

“God, and here I thought you were more of a man than this, Pretty Boy,” Billy scoffed, shaking his head as he reclined into the cushion of the seat.

“Since I met her,” Steve suddenly mumbled, his eyes set on the slow rise and fall of breath from Y/N. The hand not holding the frozen packet, circling her waist to keep her in place.

Billy observed his movements as if examining an opponent on the court....looking for a bluff, a flaw, a weak advantage. Hargrove thought he found it without having to try...and it was sitting in Steve’s lap - cuddled close to his chest. “Speak up, Harrington.” He grunted.

“The first day I met her,” Steve repeated, his voice steadier than before...louder than before...the sudden wave of confidence was found when he realized...it didn't matter what Billy thought...Steve loved Y/N...and she loved him. That’s all the reassurance he needed, and he remembered it with each breath she took.

“I fell in love when I saw her,” Steve confessed, his voice softening at the memory. “I-I think she was walking to find you, actually - it was after school one day...she’d asked me where the boy’s locker room was,” he chuckled to himself, hand running through her y/c/h locks. “I had been dying to meet these Hargrove twins for weeks now...but...I guess...I’d never had the pleasure of being formally introduced.”

“It...it was like watching a movie. She was walking down the hall, in my direction...and she said hi to me...nothing much. Enough to keep me coming back, y’know?... To want more.” Billy was quiet as Steve spoke, letting him ramble for as long as he wanted - Hargrove was trying to prove a point that he wasn’t sure blockhead could see just yet (that he knew about their relationship but getting Harrington to spill his guts out was even better).

“Then, I remember walking with her - I had to grab my gym bag anyway, and she had the prettiest laugh. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember the feeling of pride...-- Like, I’d done something really good...”

“She said I was nice - she said she liked my hair and - you know, that sent me over the moon,” Steve was laughing softly, trying not to move too much with Y/N’s head rested on his chest.

“I love her, Billy,” he told while glancing the brother’s way - his silence had been a bit mortifying...but Steve didn’t want Hargrove to think he’d actually been terrified to hear what he had to say. “I love her and I know you don’t like it - but...I can’t change how I feel.”

A few minutes passed by, and neither spoke again. Billy had gotten up, exchanging the now thawed peas for a fresh pack of them (mumbling something about the Harringtons’ having too many frozen vegetables). Roughly fifteen minutes of eerie stillness was carried between them - Billy had an arm bent at the elbow, holding his face up. His other hand tapping his jean covered thigh.

Steve was keeping himself occupied with moving the makeshift ice pack around, looking out for missed cuts (which there were a few) and treating them accordingly. Y/N was still propped between his legs, using him as a pillow - her hands rested around his waist peacefully locking him down.

“She loves you a lot, you know.” The suddenness of Billy’s low tone startled the brunette. He had thought that because it’d been quiet for so long...their conversation had long been shut down.

Steve gave a short closed-mouth smile. “You think so?” Harrington asked while shifting the pack to rest on Y/N’s shoulder.

“We have thin walls at home, Harrington. I hear her talking to you for hours on the phone,” Billy noted while shaking his head at the thought. “Did you know our houselines are all connected?” Hargrove was clearly messing with Steve - as if indicating he’d snuck on calls with them...it was a joke...but...coming from Billy - Steve was slow to react.

Steve sighed. “So you know then?” Billy shrugged. “Give or take, I know enough to realize she’s been seeing you for more than a month.”

The curly-blond chuckled. “I know my sister, Harrington. There’s no reason for her to be going on walks a seven o’clock. It’s not like we have a dog.”

“Maybe you’re not as dense as I thought,” Steve jabbed. Billy only grunted in response, not laughing, but not taking too much offense to his words.

Hargrove rolled his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger before saying,” You know - telling me wouldn’t have done anything.”

“You’re saying my head wouldn’t have been on your wall? Like a trophy?” Steve snorted while rolling his eyes,” Yeah - okay.”

“Don’t get pissy with me, Harrington. You’re the one who went behind my back, screwing my sister, amigo.” Billy had him there.

Steve swallowed a sarcastic bite and answered honestly instead,” We were scared you’d not approve--” “Because just doing it anyway helps your case” “--so we just decided to wait till the right moment...” Steve pretended not to hear Billy’s sardonic interruption.

“Was this the moment you were looking for, Harrington?” Billy’s voice didn’t hold its usual arrogant demeanor. He sounded as if he were genuinely trying to talk to Steve. At least there was that much going for Harrington.

“What, you mean at three-am, sitting in my living room - your sister not even conscious for the talk?” he concluded,” No...it wasn’t exactly the ideal moment.” Billy chuckled at that, and Steve joined him. They surely weren’t friends...no...but...they could understand one another and that made all the difference.

“Take care of her, Harrington.”

Billy understood that Steve loved Y/N as much as he did. He cared for her like he did, and only wanted the best for her. Hargrove could see the way Steve looked at her, and it was like she were the only person in the room. The only smile that mattered, the only mind that counted.

Sure, Billy didn’t exactly like Harrington...but he could get over that (for now) because the dipshit somehow made her happy. Steve could make Y/N smile when Billy wasn’t there to do it himself...so he thanked the brunette for that. He thought his sister deserved the world - more than the world really, but if Steve was the only thing the universe had to offer...and that only thing that Y/N wanted from the universe... Billy could understand.

“I will.”

It wasn’t much different for Harrington. He knew that Billy loved Y/N - may be more than he did...they’d always have a bond that Steve would envy. Y/N never stopped talking about her ‘big brother Billy - the coolest guy she knows, the strongest guy she knows, etc’. Steve felt like he knew Billy better than Billy knew...and yet, here they were - sitting roughly half a room apart - the only thing tying them to civility being a girl whom they both loved.

Sure, Steve didn’t exactly like Hargrove...but he could get over that (for now) because he knew no matter what he did or said; Billy would always be her big brother who made her happy. Billy would protect her when Steve couldn’t, and maybe that’s why it was so hard for Billy right now...because he hadn’t been there at all for his sister when she needed him most...and Harrington wondered if it was eating away at Billy’s conscious.

He’d always been so hard to read - whether cross or content - it all looked generally the same (Steve had told Y/N that once and she’d laughed, saying you just had to know the tells...for example when Billy’s nervous - he usually gets antsy and fidgety). Either way, the pain would always be the same... Steve could understand.

“Just because you’re dating my sister - doesn’t make us buddy-buddy, Harrington,” Billy clarified, a wicked half-smirk finding his lips.

Steve rolled his eyes, brushing the hair from Y/N’s face. “I know - it’s not like I’d want to be friends with you anyway...I can only stand one Hargrove at a time.” Before Billy could say anything (he was going to warn Steve that a certain y/c/h haired girl was not asleep...and had been up for quite some time...), Harrington sputtered a sound of shock as he was jabbed in the side.

“Dumbass,” Y/N grumbled, scooting closer to his side.

Steve’s eyes widened and he stumbled to find his words,” Oh - You’re up...how long have you been up...?” His tone was light, and yet - why was his heart racing so fast? She pushed away his hand holding the pack of frosted peas and sat up with a stifled groan. “Long enough, Harrington,” she looked to her brother sheepishly - he returned the simper, Billy was glad the swelling went down - her face almost looked normal again (and Steve was gaping at the fact that Billy was smiling...like genuinely).

Billy began chuckling shaking his head - the waves of relief and security finding him as Y/N seemed..if not okay...she was at least holding up. He was sure shed be in pain for a few days more, the bruises needing some time to heal. Y/N only giggled, wincing at the ache caused by laughter - whoever said it was the best medicine...was a liar.

The little shit she was...she’d been awake for the last ten minutes or so - sleeping with bruises wasn’t easy...he’d know. She was also a terrible actress - while Steve had been talking, busy with cleaning nicks and cuts, Billy had watched how his sister’s face would momentarily contort at the contact of hydrogen peroxide. Billy was very observant, especially when it came to his little sister...he’d have been lying if he said he had never followed Steve’s BMW back to his house before...he was Billy supposed to know where he was taking his baby sister? (Little? -- Billy, we’re the same age! --But you’re way fucking shorter than me, pipsqueak).

Steve was blushing, very confused, but also glad to see Y/N was feeling a bit better. “I was up long enough to hear that...um...Billy....you know...,” she paused eyes drifting to the floor. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you earlier...I think Steve would’ve been in the position I am if we’d told you.” Y/N made a grime gesture to her battered body.

Billy clicked his tongue, standing up to stretch his back and neck. “Nah, he wouldn’t look like that,” his low voice droned out as he began walking towards the door (not before placing a kiss to Y/N’s forehead and gently ruffling her hair). “He’d look much worse if I got to him, kid.”

Steve rolled his eyes, his girlfriend laughing as she pressed a hand, hissing, to her side. That’s what you get for making fun of me, she swore he said that under his breath - the intimation of a smirk creeping on Steve’s sweet lips.

“Where’re you going, B?” Y/N asked while watching her brother reach for the doorknob.

“Home. I’m tired and I have work i--,” “Stay.” Both sets of Hargrove eyes turned to watch Steve with a bewildered manner. Billy gave a huff of amusement, be licked his lips, hand running down the side of his face as he raised an eyebrow at Harrington.

“Come again?” He demanded.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, a small uplift of the corner of his lips sealing his attempt at kindness. “You can stay here - guest bedroom’s upstairs. It’s almost three, man. Just spend the night.”

Billy looked conflicted. Pride and logic always had a hard time understanding one another...a constant battle of the mind. He was so used to doing things on his own...taking Harrington’s charity wasn’t exactly an ego boost.

It bordered his whole issue with having Y/N and Harrington be together in the first place... He’d spent his whole life taking care of himself. Of her. Making sure she was always safe, making sure Y/N never got the worst of it. His father was not a good example of a man, and Billy certainly had his rough edges.

He knew that if anyone were to be with his sister, they’d have to be a man worth her time. First meeting Steve, Billy took him as the same old, same old...playboy wanna-be, who drank too much, partied too often, and flirted too quickly...Steve reminded Billy of himself (not the kind of man he wanted Y/N with).

Over time though...it seemed Steve Harrington was hiding behind a mask. Billy had been skeptical, seeing as good things always came with a sharp end...but...he saw how happy Steve made Y/N...the sincere consideration he put into everything...Harrington had become the only exception.

And still...that battle of pride and logic waged on and Billy wasn’t sure of the generous offer of sleeping at the Harrington estate.

“I can take care of m--,” “I know, I know. You’re a big boy - but...it’s more convenient for you to stay here, Billy.” Y/N cut in, squeezing Steve’s hand in hers as a silent signal of her appreciation. She didn’t want Billy going home...not (without her), anyway. She didn’t care what happened to her - as long as Billy was okay...she knew she couldn’t do much, but if this was what she could grant him - then she’d do everything in her power to keep it that way.

“Harrington.” The soft reply was barely heard, following a thank you in the form of a head-nod, but Steve waved in response. “Y-Yeah, any time man.”

Billy’s footsteps were fleeting and soon enough, they were alone. Steve puffed his cheeks out, eyes wide as he looked down to her. “You’re trouble, you know that?” Y/N scoffed, moving to stand up - she was thirsty and water sounded good (or alcohol...).

“Woah, woah - slow down there, tiger -- let me help you,” he shot up, arm around her waist protectively, hand holding hers as he walked her in the direction she pointed. He easily lifted her to sit on the countertop (even though Y/N complained he was being dramatic).

A cold glass of water was handed to her, their fingers touching through the pass. Steve stood between her legs and hesitantly placed his hands on her hips, unsure of what pain may lie there.

“You scared me, babes,” he admitted while resting his head on her shoulder, one of Y/N’s hands combing through his hair, the other holding her cup. “I did?”

“Mhmmm,” Steve hummed, turning his head to look at her, his brown eyes outlining the purple on her jawline. His muscles tensing at the thought of Neil’s hands on her. “I was scared - why wouldn’t I be?”

Y/N shook her head, not wanting to cry again. She placed her drink down, and cupped Steve’s face, lifting his head up, their foreheads pressed together. She closed her eyes, soaking in the scent of a faint shampoo and gentle body wash.

“I’m here, I’m breathing...I’m okay, Steve.” Her thumb rubbed a small circle on his skin and Steve melted into her touch. His arms holding him up, on either side of her as she sat there.

Steve couldn't hold himself back any longer; he tilted his head up, lips meeting hers. The faint taste of copper lingering between their kiss - but he didn’t mind. His body shifting to have Y/N’s front weighted to his, he kissed her, a hand coming to delicately - hold her tender face in his palm.

“I love you, so much, Y/N,” only pulling from the kiss to speak, Steve laughed wistfully. “Don’t cry, darling...you’re way too pretty to cry.”

Y/N shook her head, her hands falling down to hug his neck, he closed his eyes, rubbing her back instinctively. His face in the crook of her neck.

“You think Billy’s okay with this?” she whispered.

Steve tsked, glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall, he clicked his tongue,” I’ll give it till eight before he comes searching for my ass.”

a/n footer: I know this may not be what you expected...but...it turned out sweet..no? I personally love Steve & Billy interactions, like...they’re not friends - but...they’ve both got something worth being civil for... I hope you all enjoy! <3

Sunsets Back Home pt. 2 will be out very soon! <3 Along with some Steve requests~

Tagged: @the-first-breath-of-autumn-air @dazedimagines @danielathedoll @allisjustok @wallflxvver @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 @frnchpy @kimmydespell @editsbyjenny @dazedimagines @novaddictx @mairalynn416 @wefracturedmotivation @truthdaze @xxcxrolinexx @savingprivatecass @emmalbg @timeladygallifrey @the-first-breath-of-autumn-air @billyhargrovescigarette @krystalane @truthdaze @neverlandsoundsgood @friendlyneighbourhoodmercenary @imarockstar145 @foryoubarnes @winchestergirl907 @anniethepanda

Tag list is always open!~

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x hargrove reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove x reader sibling #billy hargrove #steve harrington x reader angst #max mayfield

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hunter-tales · 4 years

Text

Shadow from the past Chapter 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader, John Wick x reader, Ethan Hunt x reader

Warning: swearing

Word count: 5,514

Summary: What would you do when the past will start knocking at your door?

Author note: Sorry for the delay. I had real blast writing this chapter and I’m so excited for upcoming ones! Hope you’ll enjoy it. And thank you

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Shadow from the past: Chapter 3

Where the hell are you? We’re at the club. Call me. message from Dean displayed on your phone right above the information about ten unanswered calls. It’s been a few hours now since you left your hotel room leaving only a note on a nightstand and he started to worry. “Looks like Ethan was right,” you thought to yourself trying at the same time suppress guilt and remorse which was rising up inside you. In any other situation you would answer a call from Dean in second, at his first try. You would be happy to hear his deep, husky voice on the other side, you would be smiling at the phone, assuring him that you safe and you’ll be back soon. But this time was not like any other.

The first time he called you were in the middle of a chess game with your past; you couldn’t pick up. The second time he called you were in the middle of enabling all the security in the safe house and making sure that no one will get in; you couldn’t pick up. The third time he called you were on the way to The Pawnbroker where you accessed another safety deposit box. You left your gold coins in the big brown suitcase and instead you took out spare clothes and two switchblades Microtech Ultratech UTX-70 OTF; you couldn’t pick up, you were too busy securing one coin secretly inside your bra. The fourth time he called you were shaking off the weird feeling caused by the one sentence uttered by a broker, “Happy hunting miss Y/L/N”; you couldn’t pick up either.

Fifth and sixth time he called you were changing your outfit buried deep inside your thoughts. Everything was happening way to fast. You wanted it to slow down, to pause, to give you time to think. But you knew it was just a fool’s wishes. You jumped on the train which won’t stop now so you had to act on your instinct not on your thoughts. “He was tracking me all this time…all this time he was keeping tabs on me. Why? What is his end game?” you were asking yourself in your head. These questions were bothering you, the fact that Ethan new everything was shocking yet at the same time you were feeling strangely calm. Like the image of him secretly looking after you was somehow calming to you. “After everything that happened, he was still looking after me. Or was it just another assignment from Brandt?”

Seventh, eighth, ninth and tenth time you didn’t even bother to look at the phone. You knew that even with all your skills and all your tricks and all your training you won’t be able to fool Dean this time. I’m on my way you typed shortly. You order a cab driver to take you to Skyfall club and you let yourself relax for a moment.

To your surprise you were not over-analyzing the last few hours like you tend to do. You were just sitting there in the back seat of the New York cab, calm, numb even. Streets were passing by, city lights were putting you in some kind of trance and all you could do is to trace with your eyes small raindrops running on the windows of the cab.

I can neither confirm nor deny detail of this operation without the Secretary approval the sentence was echoing loudly in your head, sentence which you were sure you will never hear again. God knows how many times you said it yourself and it surprised you how oddly natural was to say it again. The felling of the words on your lips was like a taste of candy from your childhood, sweet and sour, comforting and upsetting at the same time. Like some part of you was longing to that time of your past. You closed your eyes and you could feel another flashback coming your way. You could see Ethan’s hazel eyes and you could smell Code in the air like he was standing right in front of you. You gathered all your will to block it, you couldn’t bare another vision at the moment, there was no need for another visit in the past now when all you needed was to stay cool and composed. You were tired of these glimpses of memories, of Vienna, of London, of a motorcycle ride, of the feeling of blood on your hands, of a taste of the bourbon on your lips. You remembered all of it way too well, you didn’t need to feel it, to smell, to taste, to see it like you were there. Because that is what it always was. Every vision, every glimpse of a memory was like a short visit in a past accompanied by all the feelings, all the smells, all the emotions that you felt at that moment. You couldn’t allow yourself to be thrown off balance now when you were so close to your destination.

“Miss Y/L/N we’re here.” You heard like from far away. You thanked a driver, you got out of the cab, and you head back straight to the alley behind the building not even noticing that driver new your last name. You had a role to play in the scene which was coming next. Even if you knew that there was no hunting and there was no case only a bodies that most likely he left behind you had to be convincing. Now, you had to be a hunter.

***

“Where have you been!!?” Dean run up to you, anger and wariness mixed in his eyes “You forgot how to use your phone?!” he gave you a questioning look.

“I’m sorry Dean, I meet a friend which I haven’t seen for ages!” that was only a half-lie “you know us girls, we started talking about old times, I completely lost track of time.”

“And a sense of reality apparently. I called you like ten times!” anger was spiking in his green eyes, he wasn’t buying it.

“I know I know hun,” you decreased distance between him and you and placed both hands on his chest “don’t be mad on me” you smiled charmingly “c’mon…there is no point of arguing over such a silly things” you smiled again and kissed him slowly letting the pressure come off from his muscles to his hands and lips. He didn’t need any more encouragement, he placed one hand on your back and another on your cheek and returned the kiss prolonging it a bit.

“I was just worried about you” he said with his lips still on yours.

“I know” you whispered through the kiss. After all these years he was still making you week in your knees. “We should go inside and caught up with Sam” your lips were moving over his.

“Mhmm…you’re absolutely right” he said without breaking a kiss which with every second was becoming more and more passionate.

“Dean..”

“I know I know”

“Dean, stop!” you finally broke the kiss and laughed brightly “we got work to do remember?” you grabbed his hand and started dragging him into the building.

“Well I know better ways of spending a rainy night in New York city” he smirked.

“I can imagine” you smiled fondly on bare thought of some alone time with Dean “But sorry hun, work first, pleasures later” you said and open back door which was already cracked by Sam.

***

The inside of the club felt strange all quiet and dark with only you three inside. Place which was usually crowded with people and pulsing with lights and music felt oddly hunted. You spotted Sam in the corner of the main room swiping place with EMF meter right where he left his glass just a few hours ago. You felt the wave of tension coming in and the fact that you were surrounded by shadows and dark corners didn’t help to ease it. “Are you there? Are you watching me?” you started looking around, scouting shadows around you.

“There is nothing there” you heard Sam’s voice “I’ve checked that part already. What took you so long?”

“Apparently Y/N decided suddenly to be a typical woman and she lost track of time while catching up with an old friend” Dean replied with sarcasm.

“You guys, I know that maybe sometimes it does not look like it, but I still am a woman and sometimes I need a girlfriend to gossip with” you snapped back.

“Gossip you say…?” Dean was on the opposite side of the room, but you could hear sass in his voice “about what?”

“You of course! What else?! Women only talk about boys, clothes and makeup isn’t that right?”

“There is nothing here!” Sam interrupted with frustration ignoring your exchange like he always did “Absolutely nothing!”

“We should check again, maybe we’re missing something” you proposed.

“Honestly, I don’t see a point. While you two were making out outside I swiped place twice already. You know what I’ve found? Jack. There is absolutely nothing here, except small emf spikes caused by power lines. There is nothing in the newspapers, nothing in the history of the area and building was build six months ago. I don’t know you guys, it seems to me that maybe we were wrong” he seemed disappointed.

“What about the witness?” Dean reached behind the counter and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and three glasses “this is our last lead which we didn’t check” he poured three drinks and handed them over to you and Sam.

“Seriously Dean?” Sam gave his brother a judging look and refused a glass.

“What?! It’s not like someone will notice!”

“The girl who supposedly saw everything is our last lead” Sam continued “But I’m starting to think that maybe we just wanted to see a case where there was none, to begin with”

“Everything is pointing to the fact that indeed nothing had happened here” you took a sip of an amber liquid hoping to ease a tension rising inside of you. You couldn’t see anything suspicious but the feeling of cold spikes on your back was enough to make you feel nervous. Shadow had eyes and they were tracking your every move, every gesture, every word. Shadow was closing around you and you could feel his presence near. “Let’s check office upstairs” you suggested forcing yourself to stay in character.

“I already did that” Sam replied “Like I said, it took you a long time to get here” he added seeing your surprised face “but feel free to give it another look”

You downed the last sip of whiskey and run upstairs. In any other situation you would feel bad about the fact that Sam did most of the work just because you decided to fool around with Dean. In any other situation it most likely wouldn’t happen but you needed to take Dean’s mind of the fact that you’ve been gone all day. You needed to distract him. In any other situation if that would happen you would apologize to Sam but, it wasn’t any other situation. With a cold bump in your stomach, tighten throat and blood pulsing in your temples you closed the office door behind you. You had no intention of checking for any clues you just needed to be alone for a moment. Dark office room felt comforting, at that moment it was exactly what you needed. “He’s here…” you were almost sure. However, there was still doubt in you. For what is worth you made an agreement a long time ago and at that time it seemed the best decision you could take. You suppressed another wave of flashbacks “If he is really here what is he waiting for? Maybe I’m just imagining things. Why would he be here? That does not make any sense” you took two deep breaths trying to convince yourself and calm down a bit. You were walking on thin ice. You knew very well that you can fool Dean only for a short period of time. He knows you too well, he will figure out that something is wrong.

“Anything?” office door rapidly opened and you saw Dean who looked like he already had at least three drinks “well well, this is the cozy spot” he smiled adorably and looked at you with a shiny eyes “so where were we?” he smirked and pulled you closer to him.

“We should go” cold spikes on your back returned but you kept flirty smile “we don’t want to make Sammy angrier than he already is” you kissed him shortly to his disappointment, grabbed his hand and let him down to the main room.

You did one last swipe through the place, hid the glasses that you used and made sure that everything is in order before you secured the door behind you.

“You guys go ahead bring car, I’ll wait” you said stopping in mid-walk.

“It’s a middle of the night and it’s freezing” Dean looked at you suspiciously.

“I want to grab a smoke. Or maybe suddenly you don’t mind me smoking in the car” you smirked.

The only reply you got was Dean frowned faced as he ordered you to wait. You ignored it completely, a long time ago you decided to stop giving a crap and you made the decision that you going to stop smoking if he stops drinking. You both knew it will never going to happen so all you could do was to frown at each other and move on.

You lid up a cigarette and took deep long inhale realizing how desperately you needed it over the last few hours. Bad dreams were nothing comparing to constant flashbacks and ghosts of your past materializing in front of you. “Ethan…” the last person you thought you will ever see again. You had to be honest with yourself, the way you parted ways the last time you’ve worked together assured you that if you ever cross paths with him again it won’t end well for you. Back then you had your reason which definitely justified your actions, at least in your mind. Of course, there was no way that he knew them, you made sure of that, which begged a question: was he your friend, or enemy? He surely didn’t act like an enemy. You took another deep draw of your cigarette and hang in your thoughts for a moment on those hazel eyes and snarky smile, there was something dangerously frantic about them. You knew it won’t be long before Ethan will reappear again which meant that next move had to be yours. Because knowing him everything could happen. For all is worth you might even receive a mysterious, self-destructing message in a day or two and that would be very inconvenient.

You watched Sam and Dean’s silhouette disappear around a corner, and you smiled lightly proud that you managed to play a part perfectly and that they are not suspecting anything. At least you were hoping to. It was important right now, to keep everything hidden from them. It was important to get them away from New York as soon as possible, away from you. You knew deep down that even if now everything was relatively calm the storm was coming and when it comes you definitely don’t want them around. That was the best option, for their own good, for their own safety. Because how could you explain to them all off it? How could you look into Dean’s eyes and tell him that yes, you lied to him for years? What’s more, they were important, they still had a job to do, people to save, and storm like any other force of nature, it can be unpredictable, you never know who might get lost or hurt or killed by deadly lighting.

You lid up the second cigarette, thick smoke was soothing your nerves relaxing your muscles with every inhale you were feeling calmer, spikes you felt couple minutes ago all but disappeared and you started doubting again if what you felt was real or maybe you were becoming paranoid. You looked around you, hoping that some movement in the shadow will clear the doubts but everything was quiet, still. “Calm before the storm” you thought to yourself with a small pinch in the heart.

That feeling you had in there, like someone was constantly tracking your movement, like someone’s eyes were pinpointed on you, that constant cold touch on your back, like he was there watching you from the shadows. “Where are you?”

Your eyes widened suddenly, and all your muscles tensed up again. Cold spikes return to your back and they were more intense than before. It felt like the blood in your veins froze up and your heart slowed down and skipped a bit or two. You wanted to turn around, but you didn’t have to, he was here…Sauvage … it was everywhere. More intense than ever before. It was enfolding all around you closing you in, seducing, intoxicating, luring. You closed your eyes, your hand frozen in the mid-way to your lips. Coldness got stronger and you knew that Shadow behind you was no longer a shadow, it had a face, deep-dark brown eyes, black hair and a name….

“John….” You whispered with your eyes still closed. You felt a feather-like touch on your arm almost undetectable over the clothes. Shivers went through your whole body and you leaned back just a little bit just to feel his chest beneath your shoulder. “John…. I knew you were here,” you said with a barely audible voice.

“You are in danger….” You heard his voice right next to your ear, deep, dark, thrilling making your heart stop for a moment. He moved your hair away from your neck and gently glossed over your bare skin which made your body shiver once more. “Ditch the tail. I’ll see you at Continental.”

“John….” You whispered again leaning closer.

“You shouldn’t come back….”

***

Calming waves were hitting the side of the boat when you took the one last look on the sun on the horizon. You couldn’t recall the last time when you felt so good, so peaceful, like all the problems and all the sorrows disappear completely. You wrapped shawl tighter and let the warm breeze gently touch your face and mess with your hair. You closed your eyes, relaxed you smiled at the felling of arms wrapping around you. You leaned back a bit and placed your head underneath his chin. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t have to, he only pulled you closer to him and smiled to himself. It felt good. You stood there together you with your eyes closed synchronizing your breath with his, he with a gentle look in his eyes and this feeling inside of him, like he was holding the world in his arm.

“You know what John?” you whispered with your eyes still closed.

“Hmm?”

“Sometimes life is good”

“Yes, it is” he said and with a soft kiss on your lips made sure that you will never forget that day.

***

“Can’t sleep?” Sam asked placing himself right next to you on the bench. You were sitting outside of the hotel, with steaming coffee cup in one hand and cigarette in the other. His question yanked you brutally from your memories. And reality wasn’t that pleasant especially cold morning sun which was hurting your eyes.

“What, the smell of my cigarette is so strong that it got to your room and woke you?” you attempted a sarcasm.

“I was planning to go jogging before you two wake up but seem that my plans had changed” he smiled lightly.

“Sammy, I don’t want to stand in between you and a healthy lifestyle! At least one of us needs to lead with an example.”

“What’s up with you lately?” he asked ignoring your sarcasm. Ignoring bullshit and pursuing as he planned it seemed like he mastered that skill to perfection.

“What do you mean?” you attempted the innocent smile, but you knew it was a poor attempt of mind games from your side, you were too tired.

“Ever since we arrived in New York you seem to be on edge, all the time. And if you aren’t on edge you zone out. Apparently, you can’t sleep to” he pointed at you with his opened hand “and you smoking like a chimney.”

Your only response was a snarky smile and rolled eyes which you used for covering the irritation raising inside you. You were so focused on Dean, on making sure that he won’t suspect anything that you almost forgot that Sam was observing everything from a distance, and he wasn’t so easy to fool. Especially since you could not use the power of flirt and charm on him.

“Don’t give me that look, you know I know this look. And I know this state,” he continued “I’ve seen it way too many times on Dean. Same snarky smile, rolled eyes and cool pose. The only difference is that you’re not reaching for a beer at 7am. Something is eating you up” he stated with confidence.

“I’m alright, really,” you interrupted his little tirade “you have nothing to worry about”

“Mhm…. I’ve seen this face before. Remember when we first met? You gave me exactly the same look when I’ve asked you if someone was chasing you. Exactly the same.”

“Sam, I appreciate you caring and all but really you have nothing to worry about. It’s just this city, it brings back memories. That’s all” you tried your best to sound convincing but with a corner of your eyes you could see clearly that he wasn’t buying it.

“You never told us anything about New York” he pointed out.

“There is nothing to talk about. It was a long time ago. In a different life.”

“Yet you still have friend here” his words rose a red flag in your head “I’m sorry for saying this but I ain’t buyin’ your little story about you spending your whole day with an old friend” you looked at him sharply perfectly aware of an angry look in your eyes “Dean maybe does, or he chooses to, but I don’t. So maybe you would like to tell me what is going on? And before you start with another ‘I don’t know what you mean’ believe me when I say it I know, I get it. Sometimes you just don’t feel like telling him something and I get it. God knows how many times I made some decisions and I decided not to tell him, or I did something behind his back. Because at that moment, in that situation that seemed to be the best decision that I could have made. And you know what? Every time it turned out to be a huge mistake. And I’m pretty sure if he would be here now, he would tell you exactly the same thing, because he also been there, he also went behind my back and consequences of these decisions were let’s say, pretty bad. So, whatever you doing I’m sure you have good reasons, but maybe if you don’t want to tell him, you could tell me.”

Uncomfortable silence fell between you two. You knew that there was truth in his words, and wisdom earned from experience, but you couldn’t tell him. You didn’t want to tell him. Even if you wanted to, what would you say? “Well within the last 72 hours I met my ex colleague/co-worker/it’s complicated government secret agent/spy and my ex-fiancé hitman/assassin and I have a bad feeling that some insanely bad shit is about to go down. So I’m kinda fucked and I don’t want to drag you two down with me because I love you, you my family and I wouldn’t forgive myself If anything would happen to you.” yeah, that doesn’t sound right. You took a quick puff of your cigarette reminding yourself quickly that the next move must be yours.

“Let’s pack our bags and leave” you said strongly “There is no case here anyway. Let’s go to Roadhouse. It will be good for all of us. We haven’t seen Ellen, Jo and Ash for such a long time”

“You want us to drop the case?” Sam looked at you suspiciously.

“Sam, there is no case” you looked him in the eyes trying to suggest him without saying that you know what you talking about “We’re here for four days and what did we found out? Nothing, zero, zilch, nada! We can get ready before Dean wakes up, and hit the road right after breakfast”

“First you were so eager to take this case and now you suddenly want to leave? Y/N what is going on?! Tell me!”

“Sam…” you sat down next to him “I need you to trust me. Can you do this?” that sounded more like a desperate plea than a question “I know I’m not making a lot of sense, but I need you to trust me.”

***

“I’ll pack the car and you wake up the sleeping beauty” he replied, “We’re leaving in an hour”.

***

Next day

You arrived at Roadhouse in the late evening of the next day. Somehow you managed to convince Dean that there is no point in staying in New York for any longer and that indeed there was no case. True, you helped yourself with a small lie about possible vamp nest near Tulsa but after some further reflection you came to the conclusion that it was not needed. The idea of visiting the Roadhouse was convincing enough.

Upon arrival Ellen and Jo greeted you with smiley faces, warm hugs and cold beer. It’s been a while since the last time you visited them, you didn’t even realize how much you missed each other. It took you only a few minutes to start talking about interesting hunts, types of monsters you encountered, in which moments lore had failed you and how you solved it, or how many times the monster turned out to be a psycho without a leash. You were laughing, smiling, drinking cold beer, the jukebox was playing Here I go again by Whitesnake, it was a good time.

“So vamps in Tulsa, tell us more” Dean suddenly jumped on the subject after finishing another beer “We’re coming back from a Rotten Apple without ghost trophy so we gonna take anything. I’m sure Y/N will not say no to some good old decapitation” he smirked to you. You smiled back but with a corner of your eyes you noticed Ellen’s face dangerously shifting from happy to furious.

“Ash will fill you in with detail” she said shortly “Y/N come help me on the back, I have a barrel of great beer stored for special occasions.

“Woah, Ellen I can do it” Dean stood up ready to help.

“You my guest at my bar so behave like one.” She scolded him. There was some power in her presence, power of authority, the kind of you are not arguing with “Y/N come, I need to talk to you.”

You wanted to run, you wanted to run like hell. She reminded you of your mother, and by looking at age difference she could be your mother. You knew very well what was coming up next and you were not ready for this. Suddenly you felt like a teenager again, anxious, ready to rebel, ready to fight with your mom even if you knew that she was right. She closed the door to the basement behind you and turned to you with her arms folded on her chest and furious look in her eyes.

“Ellen…listen…” you stared but she was not up to listening to your explanation.

“No, you listen and listen to me well!” she interrupted “I don’t know what you got yourself into and frankly I don’t want to know! No, don’t tell me anything! I don’t want to have visitors in black suits at my doorstep tomorrow. You do you, I know I cannot stop you anyway. You are a grown woman and a skilled one too. But dragging those boys with you into this mess! No, that won’t happen! How could you even! First you lying to them for years and asking me to cover for you and now this!? I’ve got up to here of these secrets and I curse the day when Ash found out about your ‘other activities’. You were assuring me that this is a past, long gone. You were looking me straight into eyes and assuring me, saying that I can trust you. And now what?! Now you want to drag Sam and Dean with you into all of this?!! Now you…”

“No, Ellen stop!!” you interrupted. As much as you understood her anger and where was it coming from you were not a sheepish type and standing and listening wrongful slam was not your style “I’m not dragging them with me!!” she looked at you surprised “This is why I persuade them to come here in a first place!”

“This better be good”

“I need to come back, I need to disappear…” you started but upon seeing Ellen disapproval you decided to stop playing nice “You don’t get it so don’t you dare give me that look!! What Ash found is just the tip of the iceberg. Just a small small tip. And I don’t have any intention of explaining you everything else. Not because I don’t trust you, because I do, but because you’re my family and I don’t want to put you, Jo or anyone else in danger. I know you are skilled hunters, damn one of the best in the world but it does not change anything. This is simply above your paygrade. Yours, Jo’s, or Sam’s and Dean’s combined together. And it’s not because they are not skilled enough, or they are not good enough no it’s not that. You, them, you are hunters! You hunt monsters! You are not killers.”

“And you are?” she interrupted.

“My point is…” you continued ignoring her question in Sam’s style “I’m not dragging them with me. I’m asking you to delay them after my disappearance. And keep my secret to yourself. I know they will go after me. Or at least Dean will, there is no doubt in that. But I can disappear and even with his skills he will have a hard time picking up my trail. So am asking you, to delay him as long as possible and to never ever under any circumstances show him this file that Ash has on me. For his own good, for his own safety”

“What about you?” there was a care in her eyes, wariness which made your heart melt a little bit.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t have the same principals as they do. I know how to take care of myself” you replied with a cold voice. “I need to borrow your car. It will be returned to you, don’t ask how and by whom”

“You are leaving now?”

“Yes. I’m on the clock here, time is running out and sooner I will be away from y’all than better”

Out of nowhere she reached out to you and pulled you in the strong hug. You could feel that she was shaking a bit, like a mom who didn’t want to let her child go. She held you for a couple of moments until you pulled yourself away.

“Ellen, I need to go”

“I hope is not a goodbye”

“I don’t know” you replied shortly “I don’t know….”

***

You took one last look at the flickering lights of the Roadhouse. You could hear the Deans laugh, you could see Sam silhouette leaning over the bar and talking to Jo, you could hear Hot Blooded by Foreigner in the speakers, they all had a wonderful time.

In a couple of minutes Ellen will join them and she will destroy this party by selling them some lie about your disappearance. Dean will get pissed in a matter of seconds, Sam will get worried but he will do his best to stay calm. They will start asking questions, they will try to call you. But your phone will be dead. How long it will take them to realize that you are nowhere to be found? An hour? Maybe two? It doesn’t matter. By that time you will be long gone.

You turned on an engine of old Dodge pickup and you turned around one more time. “If you only knew how much I love you D. “ you felt a pinch in your heart while a single tear fell down your cheek. You heisted for a short moment but just when you were about to turn off an engine deep, dark voice sounded in your head You are in danger…

You took a deep breath, threw in a gear and disappeared into the night.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #john wick x reader #john wick imagines #dean winchester x you #john wick #john wick x you #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #dean winchester #jonh wick #ethan hunt x reader #ethan hunt imagine #mission impossible #crossfiction

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gigilberry-wips · 3 years

Text

Ch. 15. Hiccup’s POV: Late November

Media: Fanfiction

Rating: General

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Fandoms: Harry Potter - J.K Rowling, Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons/The Big Four, How to Train Your Dragon, The Book of Life

Characters: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Joao (The Book of Life), Original Male Character(s), Original Sibling(s) of Joao (The Book of Life)

Tags: Hogwarts AU, kid!fic, Boarding School, Fantasy Elements, Fluff, Magic, Slice of Life

Word count: 4,740 words

Chapters:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

AO3 Link

Summary:

Hiccup gets a practical experience in the magic of music.

.°○.♢.○°.

Something that no one in the castle talked about was the fact that there were no rules stating whether or not students were allowed into the Hogwarts kitchens. This was mainly due to the kitchens residing in the domain of the castle’s Imāris’, and as such they were the ones who decided who or what was and was not allowed.

Despite how vast and airy the kitchens were, it didn’t really do much to help Hiccup and his nose when standing right next to the stove. Trying to subtly wipe said nose didn’t work either when he was surrounded by kitchen underlings all tittering at him.

“Shameless, the lot of you. Absolutely shameless,” the hare in charge of them chided. He stirred the steaming pot with a deft paw, his other keeping a firm grip on the huge, copper handle. “As if none of you ever started out as a greenling. Some human young just can’t handle their spices and that’s all that needs to be said about it.”

“It says here that this is a sweet dish,” said a larger than average mouse, peeking over the shoulder of a larger than average weasel, who held the witch’s travel diary.

“Even so, it’s none of your places to judge.”

“Can I have my book back now?” Hiccup asked. The weasel stuck her tongue out at him.

“We’re almost done, young master, don’t you fret.” The hare turned back to smile at him.

He made a series of sharp clicking noises that sent several of the underlings into disarray, until one of them emerged from the fray with a huge sampling bowl and held it up for the hare to ladle a large portion of the food into.

“Taste test!” The underling screamed. The others converged upon them. Hiccup was promptly shunted out of the group and just barely caught a nearby counter before he could faceplant the floor.

Somewhere in the confusion they all ended up getting their shares and eagerly barked, chirruped, squeaked, and hissed their opinions. Over a month of hearing it did not make it any easier to understand or get used to.

Hiccup was still in the middle of unraveling the chatter when several of the creatures reached their paws up and unleashed thin strands of magic that lifted the pot off of the stove and sent it floating away, the herd of them all running alongside it to most likely cart it off to depths unknown. The only ones who stayed behind were the weasel and the hare.

And also a different field mouse, who came sprinting over to them waving a sheet of paper. “Done!” he squeaked, giving it to the weasel.

“Finally. I’ve been waiting here for ages. We have things to do, you know,” she complained.

“Ha! As if you didn’t enjoy the watching.”

The weasel rolled her eyes, not bothering to knock the mouse off of where he’d climbed onto her shoulder. “Oh, stuff it. We still need to get this into the books. Onwards!” The weasel dashed off.

She made it a few steps away before skidding to a halt. “Oh, right. Here, catch!” She spun around just long enough to pelt the book in Hiccup’s direction. Hiccup had to stand and watch it go sailing through the air while his heart made the terrible decision to pull the blood from his veins.

Somehow, he caught his book before it met an untimely end. The hare chuckled.

Hiccup shot him a glower. The hare answered it with a grin that said, ‘you could’ve caught that with magic if you’d wanted to, you know’. Which, true, but still—that didn’t mean he had to be happy about the rough handling. His poor book was tattered enough; it deserved better.

But saying all that would’ve made him sound fussy. Instead, Hiccup made the very mature decision to hug his book close and pout. The hare laughed.

“Oh, come now, don’t be like that! They do like you, really. And we owe you debt for bringing another recipe to us. Speaking of—I should get on with repaying that.”

He made as if to go, but turned around to point at Hiccup. “Don’t move. And do not touch anything. I mean it. You,” the hare waved to a beaver, “could you keep an eye on him? I’ll send someone along soon, promise, just make sure he stays away from anything important. And the knives. Especially the knives.”

The beaver, cutting vegetables with a big, shiny knife, cast Hiccup a bland look and went back to ignoring him. Hiccup scooted onto a table stool, ducking his head. The pout did not leave his face.

Really, they were making a bigger deal of it all than they needed to. The knife incident was one time. And it happened weeks ago. Didn’t they have more important things to worry about than remembering that? He couldn’t have been the only clumsy student to ever walk into the kitchens. He hadn’t even hurt himself that time. Much.

Back when Hiccup had just started taking his books seriously, he’d gotten the idea to test out some of the recipes he’d found. If he knew what made them then he might as well taste them, right? The dishes couldn’t have been bad, surely, not if they’d made it into a published housekeeping book and a travel diary full of survival things. Maybe he’d even learn something useful, like how to feed himself since he’d never really tried that.

(Or rather, for his own safety, no one had let him.)

The moment he’d stepped into the kitchens, the Imāris’ there had immediately dragged him inside and started fussing over him, piling him with food and chiding him for being so small and scrawny because clearly the reason for that was his own silly fault for not being kind enough to his health, why look at your complexion child, shame on you for not coming sooner, could’ve easily caught your death ages ago and then where would you be?

And then he’d finally gotten a word in over all that and showed them his book.

If he’d thought they were loud before, that was when the whole room exploded.

They absolutely adored the recipes. He learnt very quickly that the Imāris’ were always looking for new recipes to try. Those students and adults who came to them with concerns of different diets, or were from different cultural backgrounds, or were simply missing food from home and wanted to make them themselves were especially welcomed for the new knowledge they brought.

Even if Imāris’ already knew how to make whatever it was, they still thought it excellent practice for the newer kitchen staff to try them out, too, and exercise their magical skills. Or the students could do it themselves, or show the staff how something cooking-related was done. Except in Hiccup’s case, where everyone quickly found out that neither proved to be good for anyone’s health.

They were still very friendly about it, mistakes, minor disasters, and near-death incidents aside. And it was clear they liked him—why else would so many of them crowd around him (they said it was to keep him from getting his hands where they shouldn’t be, but did that really mean seven chipmunks had to be hanging off of him all at once?) or talk with him so openly or fill his pockets with snacks whether he asked for them or not?

…But the way some of the younger ones liked to rib him made him wonder if that was simply how they were or if it had something to do with it being him.

A heavy set of steps interrupted the start of a good sulk, and a portly raccoon came into view.

Out of all the Imāris’ there, this one was one of the higher ups. One could tell that from the shape of her thumbs, the piercing in her ear, and the low hum of magical energy surrounding her that Hiccup felt through his own and saw dancing in her eyes. Her head came up to about Hiccup’s chest, and the frilly green apron she normally wore contrasted sharply against her dark fur.

Miss Treaky was one of several assistant head cooks whom he often met, mainly due to her usually being the one on hand whenever he wandered in. By then she knew the sight of him well enough that the smile she sent him was knowing and full of teeth.

“Afternoon, young master. Everything going well here?” she asked.

“Well enough, Miss Treaky, thank you.”

“Are the young’uns treating you nice? Being polite?”

Hiccup shrugged, and of course she knew what that meant because she chuckled. “Good, good, ‘least they left you in one piece. Now then, I believe you requested a parcel.” She glanced down at a smaller mammal next to her, paws on her hips. “Pip? Would you like to do the honours?”

‘Pip’ turned out to be a knee-hight red squirrel in a loose, white smock that Hiccup saw absolutely none of on first glance thanks to the large basket balanced on his head, covered by a red-and-white gingham cloth. It wasn’t until Hiccup carefully took it that the squirrel stood up properly and bobbed a quick bow. “At your service, young master.”

“…er, thank you?” Hiccup sent a questioning look to Miss Treaky, who in turn nudged Pip’s shoulder.

“Pip here is getting to where his magic needs more using. From now on he will be required to serve you. Call his name and he will appear. Be it for food, cleaning up, fetching, or general assistance, he will help you.”

Hiccup was already shaking his head before she was half done. “Oh, no no no, you really don’t have to—I don’t need—”

Miss Treaky held up a paw. “Do not mistake me. This is mainly for him. He will be helping you and three other children while also carrying out his regular duties. That at least should be enough magical exposure to keep his growth steady—isn’t that right, Pip?” Pip meekly nodded. “Exactly. So no more with your stiff paws and avoiding your own magic, yes? You will serve your magelings and I can finally make more space for the newer trainees.”

She shook her head despairingly. “Honestly. It’s like they multiply every year. Keep getting more of them than I know what to do with, hurrumph.” She went on grumbling under her breath. Pip, meanwhile, seemed to study Hiccup, his face open and curious.

…Well. Hiccup couldn’t really say anything against that, now could he? If it was simply a requirement for the Imāris, if it something they needed to go through, and not some kind of special treatment for him or punishment for the creature, then that at least made things a little less uncomfortable for both of them. Probably. At least for Hiccup it did.

Mouth twisting awkwardly, Hiccup attempted a bow. He nearly capsized himself from the heavy basket. “I’m… glad to have you, Pip. Thank you.”

Pip nodded once. Then he spun in place and blinked out of sight.

Hiccup was quickly ushered out of the kitchens right after—he could almost swear he felt the beaver watching him go—with cheerful instructions to come back with more recipes whenever he wished. (“Or if your just hungry. Stars know you need it, luv,” Miss Treaky said, patting his cheek.)

The basket smelled good. A peek inside showed it held the assorted biscuits he’d asked for. Which meant that instead of letting it fall with the travel diary into his drawstring pouch, he’d have to lug it by hand, lest the whole lot tip over onto his things or the biscuits get jostled or damaged or met with some other untimely fate. He could only hope that his arms held out long enough. A foolish hope, really, given his destination was the Music Room.

The Music Room wasn’t in the building with the kitchens and dorms but in the building with the classrooms. Up until a few days before he hadn’t even known there was a Music Room, let alone a music club.

“My sister’s in it,” his roommate Joao had said, after rescuing Hiccup from a slightly-more-alive-than-expected plant in their common room.

Exactly why did their common room have plants in it? Because they were useful, was one answer. Many of them could easily count as free potion ingredients. Or free food, since all of the common rooms apparently had snack cupboards for general use and fireplaces big enough for more than just room heating.

The one Hiccup went with was that it was because they fit the hobbit aesthetic the place seemed to be going for and everyone just went along with it. Whether it was due to their House founder’s choice to make it like that was neither here nor there, since it didn’t stop Hiccup from scuttling as far away from the plant as he could get, which meant he bumped against the beanbag his other roommate lounged in.

The boy’s name was Daniel Beaulieu. There was only one reason he remembered that.

On the first day of school, Daniel sat next to Hiccup and talked to him. He smiled at him—not in a mean way, that promised something bad was about to happen, but a smile that was exactly what a smile should be. He was nice.

Kids his age didn’t do that. They either laughed at him or ignored him. The fact that it was possible for someone to do different nearly shocked him out of his skin.

It was, by far, the most surreal experience of Hiccup’s life. Dragons and magic and everything else included. It was weird. It was still weird, months later, when the other boy continued to be chatty and friendly for reasons Hiccup did not know.

There was also that Daniel looked different from anyone Hiccup knew. Growing up in a tiny village in the far north of nowhere important meant that there wasn’t much in the way of human variety. It was the first time he was in the presence of someone like Daniel, someone with such deeply brown hands and close-cropped, curly black hair. If it weren’t for foreign movies and TV shows and posters, he wondered if it would’ve come as more of a shock. He wondered how the other kids from his village were dealing with it.

After that first conversation, either Daniel caught on that half of what he’d said had gone floating past Hiccup’s ears and didn’t mind or else he thought Hiccup was just quiet and reserved.

Which he was. Kind of. But mostly he was really confused.

(A part of Hiccup also had the sudden urge to reach out and hold the other boy’s hand, just to see if it felt different, like he was really there and not some kind of newfangled TV projection that simply looked solid, but. Well. That was. That was creepy.

Hiccup took a moment to feel properly creeped out before he chased the thought out of his head)

The novelty wore off eventually. The confusion didn’t. Hiccup grew a little more used to Daniel’s company, feeling more comfortable looking him in the eye and actually paying attention, once the strangeness became the normal. Hiccup still didn’t talk that much. He didn’t really know what was allowed when one had a friendly roommate. Or a roommate friend.

…Was it a friendship? Was this how friendships worked? It’s not like Hiccup had ever brought it up, though if he did he’d probably mess that up too.

So he just…didn’t. He listened. He answered sometimes. That seemed to be enough.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he needed to do more than that with Nessi taking an immediate liking to the other boy. Amazing the way those two got along. Hiccup had never seen her so taken with someone, not even Gobber who’d given her to him.

As soon as Hiccup bumped into the beanbag, Nessi hopped out of Hiccup’s hair and into the waiting hand of her second best human friend.

“Say, did you ever mention why you named her Nessi?” Daniel asked, one of his fingers stroking over her back.

No, he didn’t. And the reason he had felt a bit silly, come to think of it. “It just sounded nice, I guess.” Hiccup shrugged, looking away. “I’m sorry, weren’t we talking about something else?” he asked Joao.

“Yeah, about the music club.”

“What do they do there? What’s it like in there, do you know?”

“It’s…well. It’s magical.”

The look Hiccup gave him could’ve dried fresh cement. Joao sniggered.

“Okay, okay, I know, that doesn’t really explain it. But it is. It’s hard to describe, but there’s just this…something. About the way magic and music work together. There’s always a lot happening in that room.”

All the more reason to give it a visit. It’s not like Hiccup couldn’t after hearing that.

There were still so many things he didn’t know. He’d been at school for weeks, and yet none of his classes had even mentioned this branch of magic. How did people even go about fitting magic and music together? What was it supposed to do? Where was it used?

Could this new magic answer any of his questions? He’d have to find out.

The room took several wrong turns and asking around to find, as per usual with the castle. The end of his current corridor held a large painting of a sunlit forest one wall and a statue of a dancing, dainty creature across from it, a lute balanced on a hip and one of the legs missing. Directly before him stood a set of ornately carved, honey-coloured doors that gently arched to the ceiling.

…He couldn't hear any music coming from within.

Then again, it's not like he'd find any other doors that looked like that. The directions had been very specific.

Hiccup hadn't landed more than one knock before the door easily swung open. He gripped the basket tighter.

“…Hello? Is this the Music Roo-aaAAAH!”

A sound unlike any other literally blew him off of his feet.

Suddenly his shoes were off the ground and the floor was a lot further than it should've been everything was spinning gravity didn't make sense and oh gods he was going to die he was going to—

A strong pair of arms caught him. Through the cacophony of noise came the sound of laughter.

It took a minute for Hiccup to realise he'd squeezed his eyes shut.

He opened them. Warm brown eyes greeted his own.

Said eyes belonged to a girl with a light brown face and frizzy, chestnut hair. She smiled a wide, beaming smile down at him.

“Hello! Welcome to the Music Club! Sorry about that.”

Hiccup came to the second realisation of the day that he was cradled in her arms. His face heated. She set him down and he stumbled backwards, the somehow still intact basket clutched desperately to his chest.

“I—I—I—um, I…thanks. Sorry. Um.”

She laughed, waving him off. "It's fine, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. If anything I should be apologising. My name is Sophia, by the way. Sophia Costa, fourth year."

She stuck out her hand. The yellow band of her school jumper came close to his fingers. How hadn’t he remembered seeing her in the dorms before?

Hiccup took his hand back. “I'm…my name is Hiccup. Haddock. Hiccup the Third, I guess. You can call me Hiccup. First year.”

“Hiccup? Are you Joao's roommate?”

“I guess? Not many other Hiccup’s around, right?” He joked, awkwardly.

For some reason, she chuckled. “I'm his sister. He talks about you. I'm happy to meet you.”

“Same to you. Could I ask you—wait, before then, do you know where did that sound…?” Hiccup took his first look around.

The room was large and bright, the vaulted ceiling high enough to house several clear-paned windows. Most of the students were gathered in the centre of the room but a few others milled about in small groups.

All of this were things he noticed somewhere in the back of his head, the part that made observations like that. The rest of his focus was instead snatched up by the truly gargantuan instrument that towered over everything.

Instrument. That’s what his brain called it. It didn’t sound right. “Instrument” normally meant something like a flute, or a drum, or at the very least a lyre like the people back home could play. It meant something that made sense.

Calling this an “instrument” would be like calling a dragon the size of a modest continent, with wings, flames, talons, and deadly venomous darts, a “wee lil’ beastie, hardly bites”.

Metal and wood wrapped around each other like swatches of ribbon, held in place by a dizzying array of strings and levers and gears and things that should not be poking out there. Or defying the laws of gravity like that.

Not that that seemed to stop anyone. Students climbed all over it, pulled and pushed parts of it, chatted with each other on it. One person clambered right into it, disappearing almost all the way to their shoes.

The strangest thing about the whole affair was that, if one only focused on small sections, then there was some kind of…sense in it. Within the big instrument were smaller instruments. One bit of it looked like a harp. Another held a bunch of giant spoon-things. Several trumpet horns sprouted out from the top.

“…That’s…wow…”

“I know, right? Didn’t know she could make people fly, but there you have it.”

“…What is it?”

“We don't know yet. We were starting up the first test run just now, and then you walked in. She’s a right piece of work, isn’t she? Incredible”

“That’s one way to put it…” Hiccup mumbled. It wasn't as quiet as he'd thought because she snorted, and Hiccup pretended he didn’t feel as embarrassed about that as he did.

But looking away from her meant looking at the giant instrument. Which led back to his mission. He’d gone to the music club for a reason. The least he could do was see it through.

Hiccup squared his shoulders. “I have some questions.”

“Ask away.”

“Do the instruments here often do that?”

“Not unless you want them to. I mean, they could, technically,” she made a teetering hand-gesture, “but when you really get down to it, most of it depends on what you want to happen and then actually making sure to channel the right magic into the instrument to make that thing happen.”

“Also, if your next question is, ‘do you have to play the music here to make something happen’ then the answer is no. You take a sound—any sound, really. A pencil, a string, a tin can, your voice—but that’s traditional—or maybe it’s easier, I don’t know, you put magic into it, and something will happen, wherever you are. What that something is depends on you and how you play the sound.”

Hiccup chewed over that. “…So playing music…is like casting a spell?”

That…sounded incredibly corny, said out loud like that. There books and movies that had lines like that. He’d heard songs in the muggle village that sang all about that.

“In its own way, yes. But it’s different, too, you see.” Sophia grinned, and shrugged. “…It's like—you know how a part of magic is about communication, right?”

He nodded, trying to ignore the sudden parade of radio jingles happily marching between his ears.

“Well, take that concept and make it into a conversation. That’s what it’s like. With music, it's not just about communicating only one thing. What you usually get is a continuous stream of many different meanings and changing emotions, and you have to be able to combine all that and the magic you're using. And you have to be very, very sure about what you’re trying to do before you go putting magic into it. Music is a powerful thing, you know.”

If it could fulfill Hiccup’s non-existent dreams of being a human pigeon, then it certainly was.

And this was music magic from students not much older than him. Untrained students, testing the magic out for fun. Just what kind of things would it do in the hands of someone who knew exactly what they wanted done and could do it?

Suddenly a lot of doors opened in his head. Doors that led to countless corridors for hundreds of rooms, all of which could have connecting rooms and alcoves and attachments and even balconies. More than could reasonably fit into a single building. Or a handful of notes-books.

That alone was enough to summon a headache. As if he hadn’t already assigned permanent mental lodgings to other such headaches and stresses and worrying and the rest of that circus. And yes, he's the one who'd agreed to this, and no, he didn't have to go this far on what was at that point a couple dozen personal projects that wouldn't do anything for his studies at all.

But he couldn't just drop everything and leave it like that, not when he'd already decided to see this through. Whatever "this" was, at that point.

…Well, then. Fine. It was fine. He'd deal with it. It’s what he was good at.

But getting back to the point.

This “music magic” was quiet…wilful, in a way. Certainly, something that needed a lot of control, and a good deal of power. More power meant more possibilities. Ones that didn’t just end in cute, fun things like unwanted flying lessons.

Hiccup shivered.

“By the way, what's that you have there?”

What did he have—? Oh, right. His basket. He’d forgotten about that. Clearing his throat, Hiccup hoisted it up. “I. I brought something. Snacks, for everyone. Should I—?”

“Oooh! Did you? How nice! Here, let me see that.” She plucked the basket out of his aching arms, easy as you please, and uncovered it. “OI! Everyone! Snack break!”

The noises stopped.

The room stilled.

Then suddenly everyone was on them like ants.

There was no way to appreciate how many people there were in a room quite like all of them descending upon him all at once. Someone stepped on his foot. Someone else gave his hair a hard ruffle. An elbow dug into his shoulder blades. It was a lot.

The biscuits went down spectacularly, their praises making phantom aches in his ears long after they’d passed. Just as well that he’d brought so many of them; the basket made a grand total of three rounds before he saw it again. Hiccup left the music club with requests to visit again and bring more treats with him.

It was to his great shock that he, much, much later in the evening, found three sugar biscuits still nestled within the cloth.

Hiccup dug out a spare handkerchief and carefully wrapped them. From a nearby table came a series of chitters.

He glanced over to meet the disapproving gaze of Nessi.

“It’s fine, I have other snacks, too. Don’t worry.” She made the equivalent of a scold and Hiccup rolled his eyes. “Yes, ma, I hear you. I won’t miss supper again. I swear it on your tail. Happy?”

She flickered her tongue out. He held his arm up to her.

Without hesitation, Nessi swept up his sleeves until she was level with his face. She bumped her nose against his.

“I knew you still loved me. Thank you.”

After checking on a few more things, Hiccup made his way to what was soon becoming his favorite secret passage into the library. The lanterns were already lit when he got there.

In one hand, Hiccup held his wand. In the other, one of the two “misbehaving” books. This one was a faded, splotchy grey that could have once been yellow or green or blue. No visible title marked it, not on the cover, the spine, or the back. The pages held no words.

He didn’t have hope of making any headway that evening. But at least now he knew something of what he was working with. Hopefully, it would be enough to start the search for answers.

Hiccup opened the book and the air filled with music.

.°○.♢.○°.

A/N:

I need everyone to know that Daniel is based off of this boy. I didn't expect I'd get to introduce him so soon but he's such a good child and I love him so much and the fact that he's a side character is wasted potential. 😭

#rotbtd #httyd #how to train your dragon #hiccup horrendous haddock lll #hiccup httyd #rise of the brave tangled dragons #the big four #tbf #hogwarts au #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing

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yamisnuffles · 4 years

Text

Just For Two

Some tooth rotting fluff, set in the post-apocalypse.

Read on Ao3

- - - - -

As near as Crowley could tell, London had been transformed into a snow globe. Large, heavy flakes drifted lazily down to coat every surface in downy layers of white. As a result, the sort of silence that could only come with a good snow had blanketed the city. It was idyllic. Perfect. Too perfect, really, and Crowley was inclined to believe a certain angel had a hand in it. A suspicion that was strengthened by the fact that said angel had used it as an excuse to close the shop for the entire day, claiming no one would want to be out in such weather.

Judging by the figures that passed the windows all day long, plenty of people actually wanted to be out in that weather. And why not? The sidewalks in Soho were all miraculously ice free, the roads were clear, and despite the snow, the sun was shining most of the day. If ever there was a day to get out and enjoy the winter weather, this was it. Not that Crowley was inclined to point out that fact. He disliked the snow as a rule and the shop being closed meant the door wouldn’t be opening at all hours, letting in the cold. Better yet, it meant he got Aziraphale all to himself.

The angel was currently puttering about the shop, setting his collection into whatever new diabolical order he’d devised and taking his time about it. He picked up one book at a time, drummed its spine thoughtfully in tune to something he was humming, and then ferried it to a new locale with a swing in his step. He’d made a mug of cocoa after the sun had set but had promptly forgotten about it. It had since become Crowley’s charge, and the demon kept it warm in his hands through a minor miracle. In return, the mug warmed him as he sat sprawled on the couch, watching Aziraphale come and go.

Crowley felt peace like he hadn't since… since… well it didn't really matter. Before . And he'd been feeling it a lot recently, more than he had any right to. He'd be damned if he was about to ruin it by worrying if he had any right to feel a certain way. Well, he'd be damned either way, so all the more reason to enjoy himself regardless.

Aziraphale made his way back to his desk and flapped his hands a bit for want of something that wasn’t there. Crowley’s lips pulled back slowly into a smile.

“Looking for this, angel?”

Aziraphale turned. “Hmm? Oh, yes.” His eyes lit up at the sight of the wispy steam rising from the mug in Crowley’s hands. “And you kept it warm for me. Thank you, my dear.”

Aziraphale reached out to receive the mug but Crowley drew it closer to himself instead. “Ah-ah. I’ve been at this for hours. If not for me, you’d have a cold cup of chocolatey sludge waiting for you. I think I’ve earned a toll.”

Crowley quite liked cocoa. He had a sweet tooth, if he was honest about it, but as a demon it wouldn’t do to admit to such a thing. So instead, he used excuses such as these to get a sip. Only, this time, it would seem Aziraphale had a different idea. At the same time Crowley had lifted the mug to his mouth, the angel had bent toward him. Crowley’s eyebrows lifted high on his forehead while pink blossomed over Aziraphale’s cheeks.

“My- my mistake,” Aziraphale stammered. “When you said- well I thought- don’t I look the fool. I’ll just-”

Crowley instantly banished the cocoa from his hands and back to the desk where it belonged. Before the angel could shuffle off in embarrassment, he caught Azirphale’s wrist and pulled him in for a kiss. Aziraphale’s lips were comparatively cold against Crowley’s cocoa warmed ones and the sensation sent a shiver down his spine. They melted as one into the kiss, Crowley lifting slightly off the couch to meet Aziraphale as he stooped down to get better access to the demon. Aziraphale licked along the crease of Crowley’s lips and the demon happily allowed him entry. The angel’s tongue against his own was sweeter than any cocoa. A happy sound escaped from between their lips and it was impossible to tell the source.

Aziraphale pulled back suddenly and licked his lips, which had curled into a wicked grin. “The cocoa does taste good. I’d hate for it to go to waste after all your hard work.”

Crowley let out a sharp bark of a laugh. He waved his hand at the mug. “Yeah, go ahead. Wouldn’t want it getting cold.”

Aziraphale’s smile brightened and he wiggled as he gathered the mug up into his hands. He’d only taken a single long sip, though, when he put it back down on his desk.

“What? It’s not cold already, is it?”

“No, you’ve kept it just the right temperature.”

“Then what?” Crowley sat forward. “Not as good when you’re not tasting it inside my mouth?”

Crowley was rewarded with a deeper blush and yet another small wiggle. “Well, I can’t disagree with that,” Aziraphale replied, “But there was, you see, it was just something else I’d been considering for a while. I’m not sure why it struck me again just now and it’s not terribly important. I’m not even sure it’s something you would enjoy but I couldn’t help but hope-”

“Angel, spit it out already. Trust me, if it’s something you think you’d enjoy, I probably would as well.”

“That’s not true! You scoff at the idea of reading with me. You barely ever have more than a bite to eat yourself when we go out. You cringe whenever I so much as suggest the idea of doing magic. And-”

“Alright, alright, alright.” Crowley wouldn’t mention how much he actually enjoyed all those things, even the silly magic tricks. He might not enjoy them himself- or might, in the case of reading, say he didn’t enjoy them- but there was little in this world he liked more than watching Aziraphale indulge himself. Actually, it was probably his favorite thing. Not that he could go and say something like that aloud. “Why don’t you try me instead of deciding right out I won’t like it?”

“Yes, I suppose I ought to do that.” Aziraphale fiddled with the bottom hem of his waistcoat and kept his eyes rather pointedly on his feet. “I’ve been working up how to ask you all day. Is this the right atmosphere? Should I put on music? All rather silly when I think about it now.”

“Aziraphale…”

“Right. Um…” The angel tipped his gaze upward again and unleashed The Look . It didn’t matter what he asked, chances were Crowley was going to agree. “Would you dance with me?”

All that hemming for that. Crowley’s heart squeezed with fondness for the silly angel. He got to his feet and took Aziraphale’s hands in his own. “Of course,” he said with a soft smile.

“You… just like that? You made such a fuss when I tried to get you to try the gavotte.”

Crowley jokingly withdrew his hands. “You didn’t say anything about the gavotte. Last time you tried to show me the gavotte, I nearly ended up with a bookshelf toppling over on me.”

Aziraphale put his hands on his hips and pursed his lips. “That’s because it’s not meant to be done alone. I was- I was flustered by trying it without any partners. But that’s not what I intended for tonight.” He took a decisive step forward, grabbed one of Crowley’s hands and placed the other on the small of his back. “No steps for me. None of your ridiculous… gyrating. Just dance with me.”

“Yes.” Crowley swallowed hard and forced his voice lower, cool and casual. “I mean… yeah.”

Aziraphale beamed at him. Literally glowed happily in response, lighting up his smile, his eyes, and Crowley’s heart in the process.

Angels didn’t dance as a rule, and while Aziraphale might have flouted that rule in a discreet gentleman’s club once upon a time, he’d been right in pointing out that the steps had been the key. Without clear cut rules to follow, he floundered. Crowley, meanwhile, might taunt the angel by saying demons knew how to cut loose, that didn’t mean they were any good at it. Oh, Crowley still enjoyed himself immensely but even ‘gyrating’ was probably a more graceful descriptor than he deserved. But in that moment, none of that mattered.

Their first few steps were immensely clumsy. Toes were promptly crushed and legs tangled. Aziraphale snapped directions, as though he knew better because of course he thought he did. Meanwhile, Crowley couldn’t help but snipe and snark in response. They managed to knock knees and nearly toppled when they both tried to overcorrect. Rather than fall, they crashed together. And just like that, any bitter feelings dissolved and they laughed.

It was self conscious, as they both realized what fools they were being, and then joyous because after that it worked. An angel who wasn’t supposed to dance and a demon who couldn’t claim to have ever done so well, danced together and it was beautiful. There was nothing extravagant about it. Probably most outside observers would have scoffed. Crowley, though, was delighted. They balanced each other and moved far better together than they ever did alone, the way they always, impossibly, had.

Aziraphale leaned in, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder. The demon pressed his cheek against a crown of downy curls so that he could feel the slight vibrations as Aziraphale started to hum again. It was a pleasant sensation, even if it meant they were left more shuffling about than dancing at that point.

Crowley would have liked to stay that way forever but he’d never been one to leave a question be when it occurred to him. “Why now?”

Aziraphale stopped humming and from the corner of his eye, Crowley could see long lashes flutter. “What?”

“Why after six thousand years did you decide today was the day?”

“No reason, really. Only, like you said, it’s been six thousand years and when the thought came to me as it sometimes does, I thought, ‘Why wait more?’ There’s no reason not to do whatever we please, now that we’re on our own side.”

Crowley tugged Aziraphale into a tight embrace and then reluctantly loosened his grip because it made it impossible to dance. “If we’re playing catch up on everything we couldn’t do before-”

He pulled back further so that he could look Aziraphale in the eyes, enjoy their happy sparkle, and then tilted his head to plant a reverent kiss on the angel’s lips. It was enough that Aziraphale’s feet stopped moving and Crowley had to nudge him back into action.

Aziraphale smiled the small, smitten smile that he saved just for Crowley. “Please don’t imagine that I’m complaining, dearest, but we’ve definitely done that before.”

“Sure, but I’ve still got a lot to go if I want to catch up on all the times I wanted to do that but couldn’t.”

Aziraphale chuckled softly. He leaned his head back on the demon’s shoulder with a sigh. “If that’s how it is, then I hope you enjoy dancing because we’ll be doing this far more often.”

Crowley huffed a laugh of his own. “I think I’ll manage. Maybe we’ll even get all fancied up sometime, do it somewhere nice.”

“Perhaps.” Aziraphale shifted. His nose nuzzled against Crowley’s neck, just above the pulse that the demon didn’t need but that sung of his love in place of other music. “For now, this is perfect.”

They were rocking back and forth, little more, but Aziraphale was right. Crowley pressed a kiss to the angel’s temple. “Perfect,” he agreed.

#good omens #fic #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #my writing

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