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unamused-boss · 7 months

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Ngl im literally obsessed with ur writeing rn so! I have a request! Could you do a billy x reader where you are in a band and you invite billy to a show and hes like your biggest supporter ever. OH and you play the guitar and are the lead singer ( Yall r highsxhool yall have no money) so yeah, tysm if you do the request!!!!

That's my Girlfriend!!!

Billy Hargrove x Fem Reader

Disclaimer: This maybe a bit short, underaged drinking, some harsh language

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"If I'm gonna be honest I'm actually shitting myself Billy." You panicked to your boyfriend. He looked to you softly.

"Can you stop shitting your pants, you will do great." He said.

"You really think so." You look to him with big eyes. He can't help but laugh at the state of you. The first night Billy had met you was, of course, at a party were you promptly punched him in the nose. To this day you say it was an accident but Billy knows it was on purpose. He was being an ass... and you both were drunk.

"Hey." Billy smiled to you. " You are going to give the most amazing show these hicks the best show of their lives and after we are going to have the best sex of our lives." Billy laughed as you punched him in the arm for the horrible sex joke. Your expression still did not change. He brought you closer to squeeze you into a hug. He kissed your lips as an announcement was heard throughout the bar.

"Everybody, I would like to introduce a new band to you. You don't know them, but many mothers have complained about their volume level. I'd like to welcome.... VELVET CONCORD!!"

There was a small clap echo that went through the Hide Out bar. That didn't help in any way for you. Your expression stayed the same, terrified.

"You got this babe." Billy whispered. You nodded.

"You ready girl?" Dusk asked right behind the both of you.

"With the amount of crap in my pants... I guess." You are unsure about this.

This has been your dream ever since you could play guitar. You met Thorn, Luna, and Dusk all in middle school. You guys came up with Velvet Concord for the middle school talent show in 1977. That show solidified your friendship. Sure you guys didn't win but you didn't care. You all found something that will bind you together forever. This show in this bar is your first real show, not one for some school dance or party with preselected music. You will be playing original songs that you wrote, with notes that Dusk came up with, bass from Thorn, and drums from Luna. You didn't want to screw this up for them.

We've dealt with so much bullshit. From bullying cause of how we dress, to our music, jeez it only stopped when you started dating Billy. Everyone would pick on us until they needed a band for the party, and in the words of Tommy H. "I'd rather have you than the freak and his band." At least you weren't the second pick.

You and Velvet Concord made your way on stage. You nearly tripping over some cords. You were sweating, so much sweat. My throat is dry. The lights are glaring down at me. ' I can't do this' 'I should give up'.... 'What am I doing?'

"Yeeeaaaah!" A voice broke you off your head. "Let's go Velvet Concord!" It was your Billy. The Billy you punch in the face. The Billy you asked out. The Billy that asked you to be his girlfriend. The Billy that told you how sexy you look in your stage outfit tonight. The Billy that has non stopped supported you once both were together.

"Um... Hello everyone we are Velvet Concord." You started. "This is my bassist Thorn, my drummer Luna, and my pianist Dusk." Okay you've introduced everyone.

Now the show begins.

"1...2...3..."

Your guitar was on fire. You were synced with the band as if it were second nature. The upbeat rock blared through out the Hide Out. Luna put every heart beat into her drums. You don't think you have ever felt so alive. Every lyric that was sang was like it was being constructed for the first time all over again. You're back in the garage practicing what cord goes were and what note was perfect. The set that your prepared for the night was selected perfectly. Nothing can beat this. The nervous sweat now turned to excitement. Screaming every note with passion. Everything was right, this is how it is supposed to be. Velvet Concord under bright lights, even if they were from some dingy rock bar. The last riff finally hit. Thorn played it out a bit as usual.

"But on my tombstone when I go just put death by rock and roll~"

There was an eruption of applause through the crowd. The lights were turned down now you could see everyone in the crowd. Everyone cheering for your band.

"That's my girlfriend!!" A shrill voice yelled. You laughed at Billy's antics. You didn't see where he was until a force came up on stage an tackled you into a hug.

"This is my fucking girlfriend!!" He yelled to the crowd. Which in return made them scream even louder at his banter. You looked behind to see your band mates laughing at your boyfriend. You step forward away from Billy for a moment.

"Thank you everyone!." You and your band took your, very much rehearsed, bow to the crowd. You quickly unhooked your guitar from the speakers to be dragged backstage by your boyfriend. As he turned you around he brought you in for a hot kiss. Which surprised you cause you thought this would be saved for later.

"You were the most amazing and sexy woman I have ever met!" Billy cheered to you. You laughed in response. He brought your into a bear crushing hug.

"Was it really that good?" you asked.

"Good? It was better than good, it was great!" He yelled.

"Yo Y/n, get your mans under control." Thorn laughed. "We've only just begun, if he's this excited about our first show he might wipe out by our next." You girls laughed along with her. Meanwhile Billy was smothering you with a hug. If your hair wasn't already frazzled it would have been a mess.

"Guys! Guys!" Luna shouted as she ran to you all. "Joel just gave me out check!" She waved. You quickly snatched it from her flailing hand.

"Oh my gosh!" Your eyes widen at the amount, sure for some it wasn't a lot but damn!

"Who want's to flipping celebrate!!" You cheered.

"Yeeeeeaaaaahhh" Everyone else cheered in agreement. Going to run out to the bar to party. Billy stoped for a quick moment alone.

"You really are the best girl ever." He smiled. you smiled to giving him a kiss on the lips.

"Now let's get wasted!" He cheered taking you along with him.

"Yeah!"

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Hope you enjoyed!

Fics are gonna be coming out a little slower cause of school plus I'm having writers block. But I will try to get a Halloween fic out by the end of the month!

#billy hargrove #billy hargove imagine #stranger things #billy hargrove x fem reader #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x female reader #william hargrove #Hargrove

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momentswithmani · 2 years

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12 years since my grandma’s transitioning — 2020

Many know her as “Aunt Florence”, I know her as “grandma”.

I will say her loss has been a huge effect in many areas of my life. More than I’ve imagined. Since last year, I’ve had my days where I gave myself the permission to think about her. I gave myself the permission to grieve. I wasn’t taught by anyone how to mourn her in a healthy manner, so majority of my childhood I’ve suppressed my emotions & pretended she didn’t exist to feel better. However, that wasn’t the move & it backfired.

I’ve had my days where I had to ALLOW myself to feel again. I’ve also had my days where I think about her & didn’t feel as sensitive. It is still a process till this day. However, I know I’m making progress just by dedicating this one specific chapter to her. If it weren’t for me pushing myself to be vulnerable, being complacent where I was in general, I wouldn’t be sharing this with you.

I’ve taken baby steps in mourning her loss the way I didn’t allow myself to. Whether that be thinking about her, crying as much as I needed to while working on projects, talking to one of my business colleagues about her, or simply praying. This is something that a lot of people don’t know.... ever since I lost my grandma in 5th grade, I thought I would automatically be a failure without her. I saw her as my first parent before anyone else. From being with her nearly every hour of the day, to losing her when I wasn’t prepared really shook the fuck out of me. I didn’t know how to respond to that, all I knew was that it broke my heart.

My relationship with her was incomparable, it’s the type of love you rarely come across. Hearing the news over her loss had me breaking down, 12 year old me didn’t know how to take it. I subconsciously went into survival mode after her loss. Being reminded in school of my learning disability, I literally thought I wouldn’t be able to live my life without her. That’s how scary it was, and that’s how attached I was.

Life after 5th grade, I had to adjust to life differently. Who was gonna be there to pick me up from school & take me to subways? Who was gonna be there to sleep in the same bed as me? Who was gonna be there to protect me in the public world? Who was gonna be there to help me with homework? Who was gonna be there to lend me a hug if I needed to cry? Who was gonna be here to make me grilled cheese? *i have to stop here, it will intensify my emotions*

Side Fact: I was given the opportunity to pick her outfit to be laid to rest.

Being in 7th grade, my depression increased & I missed her dearly since this was one of the worst years for me to get bullied. Considering that I wanted her to be here so she could attempt to protect me... that was my thought process at the time. Graduating middle school, THANK YOU JESUS! High school hollered/holla’d at me, and I said hey back. Finished those 4 years without thinking about her (wasn’t big on it at the time).

By college, I told myself ”it’s time to be open to mourning her. You don’t have to feel ashamed, or hide anymore. It’ll only make matters worse”. Because I transitioned to spirituality, I revisited this whole timeline. It was painful, but healing & necessary. I had to unlearn my doubts, regarding what has been taught to me as “success”. I had to unlearn attachment. I’ve had to process a lot of emotions I wanted to feel so badly. I’ve had to unlearn how my “learning disability” equated to me not making it in the real world. That statement was one of the main reasons why not having her around anymore frightened me.

As I was watching one of my business colleagues post on her Instagram story about how she recently lost her grandma & that shook her world, I had contributed my part because my 12 year old inner child was able to relate to that. I didn’t go in depth like I did here, I just gave her a summary that she would understand. I told her I didn’t think I’d be successful in this world without mine, but me dropping out of college & having my own business doing what I love without validation, AND excelling at it with progress was so badass of me.

As of right now, I am proud of this huge loss I overcame. It still a sensitive topic to me, but not to the point where I can’t write paragraphs about this or talk about this. Because I’m an ease-dropping freak in my household & always listening to my mom talk about some grown folk drama, I heard her mention once how my grandma’s spirit has manifested inside of me, and that was the most weightlifting thing I’ve heard. It made so much sense in a way that I never thought about it that way.

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diaphragmjellyfish · 3 years

Text

Research

Finally wrote something again! Sorry it took so long.

How exactly do you get a dog to lose your scent? Because avoiding your werewolf boyfriend Embry was proving a lot harder than you had anticipated. Last weekend was… eventful. You guys had finally done it. Gone all the way. After 6 months of dating and an imprint bond, you both finally decided you were ready to take that next step. And you’ve only had one thought since that night.

That shit hurted.

It was borderline unbearable. The pain was searing. You lied there until Embry was done, faking moans and even faking the Big O, and you were less than eager to do it again. Were you broken? He seemed to enjoy it, so obviously you were to blame. He’d been super clingy and lovey since that night, even more so than usual, and you didn’t have the heart to be around him knowing you had faked it like that. What if he found out? He’d be crushed. What if he wanted to do it again? You couldn’t take that pain another night. What if he faked it too and was going to break up with you the next time he saw you? Yeah, no. Avoidance was the way to go.

He wanted to take you out to see a movie. You mysteriously came down with a case of allergies in the middle of winter.

He wanted to pick you up after school and give you a ride home. You had the sudden urge to join a club that was meeting after school that day.

He called, your phone was on silent.

He texted, you suddenly became illiterate.

But he kept trying. God, why was he making this so difficult?! Thoughts like this swirled through your head as you walked the long way home from school. He knew your usual route, so obviously that was out of the question. You took a path through the woods that would eventually spit you out right by the beach where you could sit and think. The forest had always felt like a second home to you. Peaceful, comfortable, private. You walked for some time before hearing twigs snapping in the distance. Probably a rabbit or something. Louder snapping. Bigger sticks. Definitely not a rabbit. You halted, waiting for the creature to pass, when a large gray wolf stalked out of the trees.

Damn.

He was wearing the softest, cutest, most “kicked puppy” look on his face that you had ever seen. Head bowed, he walked up to you slowly, whining. So he had noticed your avoidance. You held your hand out to him, petting the thick fur between his ears. He sniffed your hand, giving it a soft lick.

“Hi,” you whispered. He whined louder at this. “Embry…” you started, before he crouched down, a silent cue for you to get on his back. He waited.

Guess this was inevitable. And at least him showing up in wolf form gave you some time to think about how exactly you would explain what had happened. With another soft sigh, you climbed up on his back, holding the fur tightly as he trotted off into the trees. After about 5 minutes, you realized that he was taking you to Sam and Emily’s house. You weren’t in the mood to be around the rest of the pack right now.

“Embry, I’m kind of busy today. I don’t really have time to hang out with the pack.”

He ignored you, trotting along as if your statement was the buzz of a mosquito in his ear. When you reached the house, however, you quickly realized that no one else was there. They must all be out. It was a Friday afternoon, after all.

When you reached the lawn, Embry stopped and crouched once more so you could dismount. When you did, he ran off behind the house, walking back out several minutes later as the inky-haired boy you had grown to love. His face was full of sadness, yours full of anxiety.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he said.

You silently followed him down the path that led to the cliffs, waiting for him to say something else. He never did, only kept walking. You struggled to keep up, but were too stubborn in your silence to ask him to slow down. You both finally reached the rocky cliffs jutting out over the frigid ocean. He stopped, staring out at the horizon. You paused next to him, waiting. After another several minutes of silence, you grew impatient.

“It’s supposed to snow Monday,” you said.

You waited. Silence.

“The news said they might even cancel school.”

A pause. Nothing.

“I don’t know about you, but I could definitely use a three day weeken-”

“Is there something you want to tell me?” he cut you off, seeming agitated. For as long as you’d known Embry, he was never in a bad mood. Never anything but happy. Maybe sad on a few occasions, but never angry. Never frustrated. And it was making you nervous.

And now it was your turn to be silent. Yes! You wanted to say. You hurt me! But you couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He didn’t do it on purpose, so why would you make him feel guilty about something that was your problem and your problem alone?

“Because, if I’m counting correctly, it’s been 5 days since I’ve so much as heard from you. Barely a text back. Not a call, not a ‘hey! I’m super busy this week.’ Why are you avoiding me? I thought… after last weekend, we should be more in love than ever right?! Did it not mean anything to you?”

You remained quiet, tears pooling in your eyes. You gave no sign that you were going to respond, so he kept going.

“Just tell me where your fucking head is at, Y/N. You can’t keep brushing me off like this. Did I do something wrong? Do you regret what we did? Am I, like… not ripped enough for you or something?”

“Embry, no,” you pleaded. You could see the insecurity behind his eyes. You had to tell him what was going on, but you knew it would crush him. “It’s not that at all.”

He waited. “Then what?”

You closed your eyes, a tear slipping down your face. You wiped it away quickly before taking a deep breath. “I have been avoiding you.” You looked up at his face at this, finding tears building up in his own eyes. “I love you, Embry. But last weekend, just… I can’t do that again.”

He clenched his jaw, looking anywhere but your face and nodded. He was hurt. You definitely could have worded that better.

“Let me explain,” you pleaded. He wouldn’t look at you still, but didn’t walk away, so you kept going. “I think I might be broken or something, because that… It didn’t feel right.”

At this, he looked back at your face, switching from hurt to concerned almost immediately.

“Why would you think you’re broken?”

Another pause. “I know you would never hurt me on purpose…”

“You were in pain?” he panicked, fresh tears pricking in his eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” you hurried. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that? Why would you let me keep going?!”

“I’m sorry!” you cried, causing him to walk up and embrace you. You sobbed into his chest as he pet your hair, all signs of anger gone. “You were having a good time, and I didn’t wanna ruin it, but it hurt so bad…”

“Shhhhh,” he cooed as he rocked you from side to side, letting you calm down. “It’s okay.”

After several minutes, you finally stopped crying. He didn’t falter in his embrace, only left light kisses on your forehead and cheek.

“Y/N, I am so sorry,” he whispered into your hair.

“It’s not your fault,” you replied.

“Yes, it is. I’m supposed to take care of you. It was my job to make you feel good, and you were hurting that bad and I didn’t even notice.” You sniffled, just enjoying being in his arms. A few more minutes passed as you both calmed down.

“To be fair, I did take a drama class last semester. I’d say I put on a pretty convincing performance,” you added weakly, an attempt to lighten the mood.

He huffed a laugh, if for no other reason than to make you feel better. “Had me fooled,” he added.

You smiled, looking up at him. “I’m sorry for avoiding you.”

“It’s okay. I just wish you would have told me as soon as it started to hurt that you wanted to stop.”

“I know. I should have, I just got all in my head about it.”

“And I’m sorry for hurting you. I’ll never forgive myself, and I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore,” he answered, nervously awaiting your response.

“I forgive you. And of course I still want to be with you, Embry. I love you. We just need to work on our communication skills a little bit,” you laughed.

“We do. And I’ll start. I would really love another chance to make you feel good. If you promise to be honest about how you’re feeling, I know I can do a way better job. But I understand completely if you wanna wait a while… or if you never wanna do it again. You’re in charge here.”

His words had your heart melting. He really did care about you, and you knew that if you had told him in the moment that you were in pain, he would have done anything to get you feeling good. You were always his first priority.

“I’d be willing to try again, but what we did last time didn’t work. I think we need to think of some new techniques or something,” you mumbled shyly.

“Tell you what. I’ll do some research, get some stuff, and you can come over tonight… if you want to. And we can maybe try again? And if you get there and aren’t feeling up to it, we can just watch a movie and cuddle. No pressure… I just miss you.”

You thought for a second. Worst case scenario, you’d cuddle on the couch and eat junk food. You trusted Embry completely, and if you said stop, you knew he would.

“Okay,” you replied.

__________________________________

After a long shower, some fresh makeup, and a cute-yet-comfortable outfit, you were ready to go over to Embry’s. Sure, the nerves were kicking in, but you trusted him when he said he would do some research. When you pulled up, he was already standing in the doorway smiling. You ran out and gave him a giant bear hug (or wolf hug), and he picked you up and carried you into his room, kicking the door closed with his foot.

“I missed you,” he said, face buried in your hair.

“You saw me like 3 hours ago,” you giggled in response.

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen you all week! Gotta get my Y/N fill or I might die!”

You laughed loudly, hands threading up into his hair as he sat down on the bed with you seated in his lap.

“Yeah, yeah, just try not to crowd me,” you cheekily replied.

He raised an eyebrow before tackling you back onto the bed, tickling you like a maniac and placing playful kisses all over your face and neck.

“Like this?! Don’t crowd you like this?”

“Embry stop!” you laughed, trying to suck in a breath between his manic tickles. When he finally stopped, he was lying between your legs, one hand grasping both your wrists above your head, the other propped beside you so as to not crush you. He stared lovingly at your face before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on your lips. His grip on your arms loosened, as if to say You can stop me anytime, but you didn’t. You kissed him back, arms staying in place to tell him that you were okay.

The kisses grew slightly more heated, but Embry kept them gentle. And every time you thought he was about to take things to the next step, he’d just kiss you some more. You were growing slightly impatient, breath labored and blood pumping fast. Your stomach became slightly warm, and every time you leaned up, he’d pull away.

“You’re being mean,” you whimpered.

He just looked at you and smirked before leaning down and capturing your lips once more. You could feel your blood heat in every part of your body. From your head to your toes, you felt warm and fuzzy, yet desperate for more,,, more touch, more pressure, more Embry. Growing frustrated, you hooked your legs around his waist and tried your best to pull him closer, unintentionally grinding your hips into his. When he brushed up against your core, you let out an involuntary sigh. It actually felt nice. He smiled into the kiss, pulling his lips away from yours and dragging them down to your jaw, and then your neck, suckling and sucking and leaving light red marks that made your head spin. The hand that was holding your wrists came down behind your back and up into your hair, firmly pulling your head back to give him better access to your neck.

This movement made your entire back arch up into his body. His grip in your hair tightened slightly, lips sucking your skin up into his mouth as he nibbled, before soothing with his tongue. Your toes curled, legs pulling him impossibly closer. When he felt this, he ground his hips down into yours. The combination of his hands, lips, and weight on top of you made you let out a gasp. Your hands held onto his shoulders for dear life, pulling his shirt up in an attempt to take it off. He got the hint and sat up to remove it, being away from your body for far too long for your taste. He didn’t lower fully back down, however, instead sliding his warm hands under your shirt and onto your stomach. You sat up, taking your sweatshirt off and throwing it violently across the room. His eyes widened as they looked down at your bare chest in an almost feral fashion. He gripped your thighs, tugging you down the bed with ease, and resuming his position on top of you, hands roaming all over your torso. He cupped your breasts gently, rolling your nipples softly between his fingers. You shut your eyes and threw your head back, enjoying the sensations. His kisses trailed from your neck and down to your chest, softly. Lovingly. When he reached your nipples, his tongue poked out and licked around each of them, before taking them into his mouth and sucking. His hands continued to caress your back, and he took his sweet time switching from one breast to the other, and back again, until he felt your skin grow almost as hot as his. You were writhing underneath him, panting as your mind tried to comprehend the sensations. And his mouth, God it was so warm. You felt him kiss the undersides of your breasts, and then your stomach, and then lower…

When he reached the waistband of your leggings, he brought his hands up as if to pull them off of you. He stopped, looking up at you for permission. You gave a lazy nod Yes, and lifted your hips to help him. He pulled your underwear off as well, spreading your legs and almost salivating at the sight of your soaking pussy. Not wanting to waste another second, he once again began placing kisses on your lower stomach, and then down to your hip bones, scraping his teeth lightly against the skin, which had you shuddering. He trailed lower, to where your thighs met your core, and began to suck lightly and the soft skin there. Your clit was throbbing by now, desperate for any sort of attention. You thrust your hips up, desperate for his mouth on the place you needed him, but he only pulled your legs over his shoulders and brought his arms across your stomach to hold you in place. Your hands went to his hair in an effort to control any aspect of this situation, but the boy was strong. He teased and teased and teased, until you thought you might very well crawl out of your own skin if he didn’t properly touch you soon. Embry brought his face right up to your center and licked into your entrance, making your toes curl once more. His hands gripped your hips as he brought you as far onto his tongue as he could, nose not quite brushing where you still needed him.

“Embry…” you whimpered, about to tell him what you needed.

“I know, baby. I got you,” he spoke, as he finally brought his warm tongue to lick a firm stripe up to your clit, swirling it around and sucking the swollen nub into his mouth.

You let out a moan. A real one. Your first real one. And it only encouraged Embry, as he began to suck and lick with a steady rhythm that caused your legs to shake. You felt your stomach start to coil after several minutes of this, hands fisting Embry’s hair even tighter. It felt amazing, but that coil wouldn’t snap. He started to notice you coming down slightly, orgasm fading away, when he brought his index finger into your mouth. You sucked on instinct, before he pulled it out and brought it down to your entrance. He swirled the digit around a few times and began to push in slowly. One knuckle. Then two. And then he was fully in you. Sucking your clit into his mouth yet again, he rubbed his finger up into your front wall, massaging the ridges there.

“Oh… Embry, oh my God,” you moaned. He used more pressure, and then brought his finger out and added another, slowly pushing them in together and resuming the ‘come-hither’ motion. You felt your muscles shake, losing all control, and the coil in your stomach tightened rapidly once again, only this time, it broke. Your back arched, eyes shut tight, mouth open in a silent scream as you came hard. Waves of pleasure drove through you, hands holding his head firmly onto your center. When you came down and opened your eyes, you looked down at his face to see an excited grin.

“If you tell me that was fake, I think I’ll cry,” he chirped.

You calmed your hard breathing enough to mutter a “That was real.”

“Do you wanna keep going?” he asked.

You nodded, taking note of the obvious tent in his shorts. You reached a hand down to grasp him, when he grabbed your wrist and said “Nuh-uh, I’m still making it up to you.”

He stood up off the bed and went over to a plastic shopping bag on his desk. He opened it and pulled out a condom, some lube, and a small pink toy. Your eyes widened, and he cockily stated, “told you I’d do some research. Come here Sweetheart.” He held a hand out to help you up, and moved you so that you were on your hands and knees, bum facing him as he stood at the edge of the bed. He tore the condom packet open with his teeth and rolled it on, and then opened the bottle of lube and slathered it all over himself. He then brought what was left on his hand up to your sensitive core, distributing the substance gently. Throwing the bottle onto the floor, he lined himself up with your entrance.

“You sure you wanna keep going?” he asked. You nodded in response. “I need you to say it, babe.”

“Yes, I want to keep going, Em,” you almost cried.

“Okay, but I need you to tell me if it hurts even a little. Promise?”

“Promise.”

He grasped your hip with one hand, guiding himself in with the other. Slowly, carefully, he became fully seated inside you, giving you a moment to adjust. You felt no pain, just a delicious stretch inside your walls. When Embry saw that you were relaxed, he pulled himself out a couple of inches and softly thrusted back in, looking for any signs of discomfort. He found none, and continued. He dragged himself in and out of you at a torturous pace that made your breathing pick up yet again. You needed more. You began rocking yourself back onto him, begging for a faster pace, and he complied. He pulled out several inches more this time, shoving back in at a quicker pace that had your toes curling and your moans going up in pitch. At this, he stopped holding back. Embry began pounding into you, hands gripping your hips tight enough to leave the good kind of bruise. You were moaning loudly, brain turning to mush. This is what sex was supposed to be like. What you’d always imagined it would be like. Passionate, loving, amazing.

Embry found himself reaching the edge, but would not allow himself to finish before you. He reached down onto the bed for the small pink toy that you had forgotten about. He flicked it on, brought his other hand down and around your throat to pull you up against him, and held the small vibrator right onto your clit. The pounding pressure of his dick paired with the fervent vibrations had you seeing stars. You came. Hard. You didn’t know how long the orgasm had lasted. When you came to, you were lying on your back on the bed, breathing still labored, as Embry cleaned your thighs off with a damp towel. He noticed you looking up at him.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he cooed.

“Hey,” you responded weakly.

“How ya doing?”

“Really good,” you laughed.

“Yeah?” he beamed at you as you nodded in response. “Good. I’m gonna get you some water and then we can cuddle, okay?” You only smiled in contentment as he walked off into the hallway, returning shortly with a cup of cold water. “Sit up for me?”

“Can’t,” you answered, eliciting a laugh from him.

“C’mon, I’ll help you,” he spoke as he gently held the back of your head, supporting you as you leaned up to drink from the cup he was holding up to your mouth. After you took a few sips, he seemed satisfied and placed the cup on the floor, lying down next to you and pulling you close. “If you start ignoring me after that, I might have to kill you,” he teased.

“Don’t worry. I won’t ever ignore you again.” You sighed in contentment, listening to Embry’s soothing heartbeat, before you began to wonder. “By the way, what the heck kind of research did you do?”

He huffed a laugh before responding, “Some guy on the internet called Owen Grey.”

#twilight #wolf pack #embry call #embry call x reader #embry call smut #twilight smut #sam uley #jacob black #paul lahote #quil ateara #seth clearwater #jared cameron #leah clearwater #edward cullen #embry call x reader smut #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote smut

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nashibirne · 3 years

Text

PICK UP

Trucker!Sy is back! I had so much fun writing him, so I decided to write a follow-up to Truck Stop. In this one Sy initiates a little role play. I hope you like it just as much as part 1. If so, please leave me a reblog, comment or like 💜. Thanks!

Pairing: Syverson x reader/y/n/you (f)

Word count: 2.3 k

Summary: Sy wants to pick up a little bird at a bar. This is a follow-up to Truck Stop but you can read it without knowing part 1.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, PWP, smut, sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, roleplay, cream pie

Unbeta'ed. English isn't my first language. Mistakes ahead and they're all mine.

Credits: I don't own Captain Syverson

Find my other fics on my masterlist!

Taglist:

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabronte @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfan @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen @a-little-counter-esperanto @starstruckkittyangel @mary-ann84

Off we go....

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Imagine, you liked the little role play, your girlfriend surprised you with so much, you want to return the favor. You didn't tell her what you've planned, you've just told her to show up at that bar and to play along....

I am nervous, I mean like really nervous, which is silly, because it's my girlfriend I'm going to meet in a few minutes. But then again, tonight she's not my girlfriend. She's going to be a random stranger, sitting at the bar, catching my eye and I'll try to pick her up.

I enjoyed her surprise the other day so much, our little the-trucker-and-the-hitch-hiker-role play, I want to return the favor and so I told her to come to the "Midnight Cowboy" at 8 o'clock and wait there for me at the bar. And that's why I sit here in a dark corner booth with a good view at the entrance and the barstools, glancing nervously at my watch again and again. I'm really not sure if this is going to be a success. I've never been the type for one-night-stands or flings. I've always been in long-time-relationships, with my first love at high school, with two women in my twenties, with my ex-wife and now with y/n. All my relationships started the classical way. You meet through friends or through your job or at a party, you start dating, you fall in love and get serious.

Never before have I tried to hook up with a woman just for one night at a bar, guess I'm an old-fashioned boomer but well...that's me. The door opens once again and I raise my head hoping it's her but it's just a middle-aged couple with matching outfits and a tiny dog on a leash. Oh, wait, there she is, y/n follows right behind them. She looks so pretty, my heart skips a beat. It's still hard to believe that a woman like her wants to be with an ordinary trucker like me. She's dressed up, wearing a pretty summer dress that's sexy in an innocent way. It's not showing much skin but I know what a great body hides underneath, I know the curves that are wrapped up in the light blue fabric with the floral print by heart and that's why it's so promising and hot to me.

She takes a quick look around before taking a seat at the bar. I duck my head and hide myself from her eyes. I don't want her to see me, not yet. She smiles at the bartender and makes her order. It's cute how she's sitting there, fumbling with the colorful bangles on her wrist that match her outfit, glancing at her watch. She's nervous too and to be honest that's a big relief.

The guy at the other end of the bar keeps looking at her and he's not very subtle. Actually it's more ogling than looking and I feel the jealousy rise in my guts. She's my woman and I should be the one undressing her with his eyes. Well, to be honest I am. I just can't keep my eyes off of her, her gorgeous body and her lovely face. The bartender places a cocktail in front of her, it's a Tequila Sunrise, and she takes a sip, before checking the time again.

Okay, it's time for my entrance, to let the games begin. I take my beer and leave my comfortable booth to sit down at the bar. I choose a stool diagonally across from my sweet little bird to make sure it's easy to have eye contact. When she sees me she presses her lips together to suppress a grin. She gives me a quick, curious glance before she lowers her eyes on her drink. I have a swig of beer and keep looking at her to get back her attention. If I wasn't her boyfriend I probably would freak her out by staring at her like a psycho but I don't know what else to do. Luckily she knows I'm not some kind of creep and so she gives me a look and a delicate smile eventually. I return the smile, nodding at her and I raise my trucker cap a little to greet her.

She giggles and looks away, pretending a shyness that's not typical for her but very fitting for our little role play. While she fakes innocence I try to strike her as a man who knows what he's doing and who knows the rules of this game. We keep on exchanging glances and smiles but I have to make a move eventually and so I do what I consider to be smooth and I beckon the bartender to come over.

"Another beer for me please and another Tequila Sunrise for the pretty lady over there."

"Sure."

He gives me a nod and brings me a new bottle of beer just seconds later before mixing her cocktail. He places it in front of y/n, talking to her and they look in my direction at the same time. He goes back to polishing glasses and she flashes me a bright smile, mouthing 'thank you' over the country music that's a little too loud for my taste. I mouth a 'welcome' back and raise my bottle to her. She takes a sip of her drink with a sexy smirk but averts her eyes again.

Time for the next move. I get up and walk over to her with big confident strides and a bit of a swagger. I know women like the way I walk and move and y/n is no exception.

"Mind if I join you?" I smile at her with what's supposed to be a flirtatious wink. She looks me up and down skeptically.

"Why?"

"Umm…" I'm not prepared for this question and I don't know a single pick-up line that wouldn't be an absolute cliche or totally sexist, so I decide to stay close to the truth. "You just caught my eye. You're not only pretty but you seem to be an interesting person. So…" God, I suck at this. Please don't make it too hard for me, little bird.

"You can tell I'm an interesting person just by looking at me for ten minutes straight?" She gives me a teasing smile and I can't help but laugh.

"Okay, that sounds strange, I know. Let me try again, okay?"

"Okay."

"I saw you sitting here and you caught my eye. You're beautiful on the outside and I just hope on the inside you're beautiful too and hopefully an interesting person...so... I'd just like to get to know you by chatting a little." I shrug and give her a sheepish smile because I feel like an idiot.

"Well, honestly, that's a great answer. Much better than the usual pick up crap. So, yes, please..." She pats on the seat beside her and I sit and turn to her.

"Thanks. I'm Tom, by the way. But everyone calls me Sy."

"I'm y/n. Nice to meet you...Sy. Sy is short for?"

"Syverson. My last name."

"I see. Sy. I like the sound of it. Feels good on my tongue." She smiles again and I'm at a loss for words for a moment. Cheeky little bird. Time for a bold move. "I may have more things to offer that feel good on your tongue", I grin with a smirk.

"Oh, really?" She raises an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"You'll find out...eventually...maybe." I wink at her and raise my bottle. "Cheers."

"Cheers, Sy." She takes a big sip from her Tequila Sunrise and I look her deep in the eyes. "So what are you doing at this bar, all alone, y/n? Or are you waiting for someone?"

"No. I'm not. I'm here on my own. Actually I was so lonely at home, bored and unsatisfied so I decided to get out and about a bit."

"And you're lucky you found me. I'm known for keeping women entertained and satisfied." I may be overacting a little but I hope my little bird plays along. "Women? More than one at the same time?" She smiles at me innocently.

"One after another of course."

"Lucky me, I'm first in line tonight."

"Right." I laugh and she joins in, patting my thigh playfully. "You're a funny guy, Sy. So what do you do besides satisfying women? For a living I mean."

"I'm a trucker."

"Oh, that's great. Do you have your own truck?"

"Yeah. I do."

"Cool. I like big machines. Strong engines, roaring loud but running steady with a lot of power. Hard to handle but a smooth ride…"

"I bet you do." I give her one of these smirks she finds so sexy and she grins before she takes the cherry from her drink to take it in her mouth. The whole cherry, complete with fruit and stem. She chews, swallows and spits out the stone, placing it on her napkin carefully, but where's the stem, I wonder. Fascinated, I watch her tongue move around in her mouth for several seconds and then she opens her pretty lips and sticks out her tongue, presenting to me the cherry stem that now is knotted. She takes it and places it right in front of me. I gulp and look her straight in the eyes. "Did you just knot the stem with your tongue?"

"Yeah. I'm good with my tongue." She holds my gaze and licks her lips and I feel my dick twitch in my jeans. Jesus. My girlfriend is Audrey Horne and I feel like Dale Cooper all of the sudden. Fascinated, aroused and confused by her. "You mean you know more tricks than this one?" She leans in to whisper in my ear. "Many more." When I turn my head her face is just inches away from mine and I stare at her mouth, leaning in. She does the same and as soon as our lips meet we share a hungry, passionate kiss.

It takes us ten minutes to pay, leave and get to my flat that's just around the corner. As soon as the doors of the elevator close behind us y/n literally jumps me. I grab her by her ass and press her body against the wall, kissing her feverishly while she rubs her pussy over my hard-on.

When we reach my floor I carry her to my apartment, we're still making out and so I keep on stumbling, crashing into the walls of the hall several times. I manage to open the door, while y/n is licking my earlobe and kissing and sucking on my neck which makes me moan.

I put her down and drive her towards the wall until her back is pressed against the rough surface. We keep on kissing with animalistic passion and hunger and I grab her wrists and pin her hands above her head, parting her legs with my thigh at the same time. She immediately starts riding it. I use my other hand to caress her tits and our moans get louder.

I let go of her hands and sink down on my knees. I hitch up her skirt and press a hot kiss on her vulva just to pull down her panties then ever so slowly. I grab her leg and place it on my shoulder before I start to eat her pussy. God, I love this...to taste her juices, to smell her arousal, to hear her soft moans and sighs.

"God, Sy…" Her voice is thick with lust and I can tell she's close already. I go on, keep on licking and sucking, I give her pleasure with my mouth, my lips, my tongue and I know she loves the way my beard scratches her sensitive skin. I work my magic on her clit and she cums soon with a long lustful moan, whispering my name while her fingers run over my scalp. I get up and she pulls me close for another kiss, she loves tasting herself on my tongue. She tugs on the hem of my shirt and I strip it off and throw it away. Her hands run over my hairy chest and when she pinches my hard nipples I let out a feral growl. "Babe...I need you. I want you." I pant out of breath.

"Fuck me, Sy."

I open my fly in a hurry and get my dick out. It's so hard it almost hurts and I just want to stuff her sweet little pussy with my fat cock. My jeans drop to the floor and I grab her by her waist to lift her up. She wraps her legs around my hips and I place my hands on her ass, squeezing her cheeks. I move her in the right position to enter her and make her sink onto my dick. I glide inside of her and immediately start to thrust. I fuck her fast, I fuck her hard, I fuck her deep and we both love it. I groan and grunt like an animal. My brain's stopped working, it's just basic instinct and lust now and I get closer to the edge with every raw thrust.

Her little shrieks and the way she moans tell me I hit exactly the right spot and the fact that she's about to cum again makes me even hornier, driving my arousal to new heights. I get higher and higher and when she calls my name from the top of her second climax, scratching my back, her whole body shivering, I explode inside of her. I orgasm with a loud groan and keep on thrusting when I cum, savouring every single second of this hot play's grand finale. I pull my cock out and take a step back, still out of breath. I look at her and she's a mess, her clothes crumpled, my cum running down her thighs. I cup her face and kiss her tenderly. "I've ruined your pretty dress."

"Forget the stupid dress, baby. You've made my day."

She kisses me back and it's the beginning of a long night full of love making - of two people who know each other well and love each other much, having sex that is even better than the spectacular fuck of these two, who pretended to be strangers. And I can tell you, she showed me all of her tricks that night.

#henry cavill #cavillry #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #captain syverson #captain syverson pov #captain syverson x reader #syverson #syverson smut #syverson fic #captain syverson fanfiction

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archived-kin · 3 years

Text

petty ghost haunts their murderer but doesn’t actually do anything vengeful, more at eleven

note from kin: i don’t even know what this is myself to be honest but the simple way of putting it is that you were accidentally killed by one of satan’s fits of rage and now your ghost follows him around and messes with him at any given opportunity out of pettiness

basically i came up with the prompt ‘vengeful spirit is more of a slightly miffed and extremely petty spirit who doesn’t actually do much but inconvenience their hauntee, shenanigans ensue’ and ran with it

(as a heads up, reader is not mc in this situation, and this takes place before any of the exchange program stuff, so belphie’s not in the attic and solomon and the angels aren’t in the devildom)

fandom: obey me!

character(s): gn!reader, satan, beelzebub

pairing(s): satan/reader (though it isn’t particularly romantic since you’re, y’know, dead, so it’s more of a satan & reader)

warning(s): references to death, beel eats an entire rotisserie chicken

genre: crack (with a bit of fluff i guess???)

“For the last time, [Name], put the knife down.”

“Bite me, bitch-boy.”

Satan lets out a long-suffering sigh and sets down his mug of coffee, then reaches out and carefully pushes the floating butter knife pointed directly at his jugular back down onto the table. “I don’t know why you keep trying that. You do know it wouldn’t actually get through my skin even if you did manage to hit me, right?”

“It’s the thought that counts,” comes your disembodied voice from somewhere near the ceiling. You’ve probably decided to float up there to sulk like you always do after a failed attack.

“I’d prefer you didn’t think about it at all.”

A still-wet towel pulls itself from the rack on the wall and hits him square in the face. Satan gives an exasperated groan as it slides down his face and lands on the table with a soft splat.

“That’s what you get,” You sniff indignantly, finally materialising in front of him with a scowl. You’re floating upside down in a way that makes it look like you’re standing on the ceiling. “Buttface.”

“Come on, you can come up with better material than that,” Satan shakes his head, pushing back his chair and picking up the wet towel you’ve just flung at him to hang it back up again. “Where did all your creativity from yesterday go?”

“Six feet under with the remains of my body, probably,” you reply with a scowl. Then, as an afterthought, you add, “Confounded cheese wheel.”

“Oh, that’s a new one,” He comments, mildly surprised. “Where’d you pick that up?”

“Made it up myself. Ha!” You bob past him and through the wall, most likely to go terrorise Mammon by making his lights flicker on and off again. “Guess my creativity isn’t as dead as I am after all.”

“You still haven’t gotten over that, I see.” He sighs.

Your head immediately pops back out of the wall and glares across the room at him. “Excuse me?”

“It’s been weeks now - months, even,” Satan explains carefully as he sits back down at the table, not wanting to aggravate you further. The last time he'd brought something like this up, he’d ended up making you so angry that you’d managed to become physically corporeal enough to fling him across the room. “I would have thought you’d have passed on by now, that’s all. Surely it doesn’t take this long for the gates to the Celestial Realm to open?”

You consider his words, apparently appeased by their logic. “...I guess. Maybe I’m not passing on because I can’t rest in peace yet, like the ghosts do in horror films.”

“They’re films, you can’t expect to apply what happens in them to reality,” Satan replies flatly. “Besides, even if that was the situation, you've met all the criteria to 'rest in peace’, haven't you?”

“Are you trying to tell me, the dead one here, what merits as ‘resting in peace’?” You counter, floating back through the wall so that your entire body is in the room again. “My murderer’s still walking about like he doesn’t dress in the entire green colour spectrum and think it’s a good idea. How am I supposed to rest in peace knowing that?”

Satan looks down at his outfit, a little offended. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“What’s right with your clothes?” You shoot back, drifting over to him and passing a ghostly hand through his shoulder, apparently too lazy to muster up the energy to make your hand physical enough to touch him. “Look at it! Your blazer doesn’t even have lapels!”

“It isn’t a blazer.”

“Jacket, then.” You make a move as if to pinch at the fabric, but your fingers just pass right through it like a hot knife through butter. “It doesn’t even fit you. The sleeves are too short.”

Satan resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to wear it if it didn’t fit me. Besides, why does it matter to you?”

“The demon I might be doomed to be attached to for the rest of my afterlife has the worst fashion sense in all three realms is the matter,” You sigh dramatically and float up to the ceiling again. “Why do you even wear rip-off jeans if you’re going to put a belt over it?”

“First of all, they aren’t rip-off jeans,” Satan tells you as you start idly making the kitchen light flicker. He should probably tell you to stop doing that whenever you get bored, but he’s gotten so used to it at this point that he can’t really be bothered to. “And, second of all, why does it matter if I’m wearing a belt on it?”

“Rip-off jeans are meant to be ripped off,” You explain with all the patience of a mother explaining something to a curious child, completely disregarding Satan’s first point. “Putting a belt on top of it kind makes that redundant.”

Satan thinks about it for a moment and begrudgingly comes to the conclusion that your statement is correct - not that it makes a difference to him. “...they’re still not rip-off jeans.”

“Think whatever you want to think, burro verde.”

“What?”

“It means green donkey in Spanish.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Where’d you get that from?”

“I took Spanish for, like, three years when I was in high school,” You shrug, and the light brightens and dims slightly with the movement of your shoulders, as if it’s shrugging with you. “Failed all the exams, but at least I got something worthwhile out of it.”

“Three years of linguistic lessons and all you learn is how to string together bizarre insults,” Satan shakes his head. “You really are incorrigible.”

“That’s a big word. You sure you know what it means?”

“Of course I do,” He gives you a slightly disgruntled look. “I wouldn’t use it if I didn’t. What do you take me for?”

“Someone who doesn’t know what incorrigible means, obviously.” You pretend to aim a kick at the spider perched quietly in the corner of the ceiling, but Timothy ignores your efforts to boot him from his web. After a moment, growing tired of bothering the little guy, you ask, “...what does it mean?”

Satan snickers, then answers, sounding as if he’s reading the definition directly out of a dictionary, “In reference to a person or their behaviour, unable to be changed or reformed.”

You contemplate his words for a few seconds. “Is that a good thing?”

“Not usually when that particular word is used for it, no.”

“Oh. Bitch.”

He pauses at that, moving his mug of now marginally cooler coffee away from his mouth again, having been in the middle of taking another sip when you decided to insult him again. “Where did that come from?”

“You called me incorrigible, which you just said is not a good thing to be,” You explain as if it’s obvious, frowning down at him. “So I’m taking it as an insult and insulting you back. Bitch.”

“You didn’t have to say it again.”

“I didn’t, but it’s fun to call you names.” You snort and glide down from the ceiling to float above the table, crossing your legs and pretending to sit down on it. “It’s not as fun as it used to be, though. You never get all puffed up about it anymore.”

“That’s your own fault for doing it so much that I got used to it,” Satan reproaches. “Besides, it was pointless getting angry. It’s not like I can do anything to you in return.”

“You could ignore me and pretend I don’t exist or something.”

“Is that what you want me to do?”

“No!” You hurriedly throw up your hands in a gesture of surrender and shake your head so hard that Satan swears he actually feels a breeze - an even more impressive achievement considering that your body isn’t even tangible. “Please don’t. You’re the only being in the entire universe that I can actually interact with.”

“Sometimes I wonder if that is a good thing,” Satan mutters.

“It’s a good thing for me, and that’s all that matters,” You reply, unfazed.

No one other than Satan appears to have the ability to see you, which is an odd thing in and of itself. Ghosts aren’t a foreign thing to the Devildom - they’re so common that you could probably just walk into a convenience store and find one shelving cans of soup - but you don’t seem to follow any of the rules that they do. Sometimes Satan wonders if you’re able to actively choose to not allow his brothers to see you as you drift around the house, but then again, he’s pretty sure that, if you had the option to make Lucifer watch you pretend to fist fight that weird skeleton hanging in his room, you definitely would.

Satan doesn’t pretend to understand the laws of your otherworldly existence - he’s read so many variations on the rules behind lingering spirits like you that he can scarcely tell the difference between pure fiction and actual logical hypothesis. It’s easy enough to wrangle you into behaving for a day so that he can observe you properly by promising to leave his radio on for you while he’s out, but the observations themselves never seem to lead to anything. He knows that you’re able to pass through any physical object (as far as he knows), can make lights (of both the electronic and candle variety) flicker at will, can muster up enough physicality to move and touch things if you try, and can phase in and out of perceivable view, but he doesn’t know why you can do any of those things.

“Quit trying to come up with explanations for everything,” You’d told him wisely a month or so ago, when you’d floated in on him muttering to himself about the possibility of something called ‘ether energy’. “You’re just gonna give yourself a headache.”

Then you’d started making his candles flicker like disco lights until he stopped.

“...but I don’t think he spotted me, since he probably would’ve commented on the floating meat cleaver if he did, and— hey, big guy!”

That last exclamation is aimed at Beel, who has just walked into the kitchen and is now rummaging unceremoniously through the fridge, most likely in search of something to eat. At this point Satan’s pretty sure that you still don’t know any of his brothers’ names - at the very least, even if you do, you’ve never called them by them.

Beel continues to sort through the various already empty boxes and containers in the fridge as you start zooming back and forth through him, marvelling over the sheer broadness of his chest and shoulders. It isn’t the first time you’ve done this to him - or indeed any of the brothers - but Satan can tell that it’s more innocent awe than any kind of objectification or intent to harm, so he doesn’t mind. As mischievous as you are, he’s pretty sure you don’t have a genuinely malicious or wanton bone in your body... well, you don’t have any bones anymore - or a body, for that matter - but the point still stands.

“Hungry?” He guesses, but it’s honestly more of a statement. It is Beel, after all.

The Avatar of Gluttony withdraws from his search briefly to offer a nod. “I didn’t get to finish all of my lunch.”

“Well, there’s a surprise,” You comment as Beel sticks his head back into the fridge, finally tiring of buffeting yourself back and forth like a pendulum and choosing to start hovering just over the second youngest’s shoulders to watch his hunt. “Wonder what he was up to that got him to stop eating.”

Satan opens his mouth to reply, then stops and closes it again. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Beel with the not-really-a-secret of your existence, but he’s sure that at some point or another, Beel will end up letting it slip to Lucifer, who would most likely want to know why your death ended up attaching your spirit to his brother, and Satan’s already gone to great lengths to make sure that the oldest won’t find out about the rampage he went on that cost you your life in the first place. It'd just be a waste of that effort for Lucifer to find out anyway. Besides, it isn’t like the information will make much difference to Beel - he can’t see or hear you, and you’re pretty harmless, so there wouldn’t be any need for him to get involved in the situation anyway.

You, meanwhile, are well aware that Satan isn’t going to be saying anything to you while one of his brothers is in the room - you don’t really understand his reasoning for it, since you like to think that you’re a pleasure of a ghost to know, but you suppose you can’t really force him to make any decisions. Besides, you’re pretty content with the way things are right now; you don’t want to complicate the situation by bringing in another demon who, as far as you know, might just smite you on the spot if they find out about your existence.

Instead, you busy yourself with watching in fascination as Beel somehow pulls what looks like a rotisserie chicken from the very back of the fridge and shove the whole thing in this mouth. You exchange slightly disturbed looks with Satan as he begins to chew - you’re pretty sure you’ve just seen him dislocate his jaw like a snake to fit it in there.

“You might want to calm down, Beel,” Satan advises after a brief moment’s stunned silence, though even he knows that it’s a fruitless warning. “You’ll end up choking.”

Beel nods, but makes absolutely no move to slow in his aggressive chewing.

“This must be what the peak of evolution looks like,” You say in bemused awe as Beel finishes eating. The entire chicken has disappeared down his throat - bones and all. “How the hell does he manage that?”

Satan doesn’t answer, but his subtle shrug says that your guess is as good as his.

Much to your surprise and Satan’s resignation, Beel immediately goes back to the fridge, apparently unsatisfied by the copious amount of fowl he’s just eaten. To be honest, you feel sorry for the guy - while the you from when you’d still been able to eat would have done some unspeakable things to be able to consume as much as he does and still remain that fit, you’re sure that the black hole he calls a stomach must be an awful thing to have to deal with. At least he gets to enjoy a lot of food because of it, though you suppose it’s a double-edged sword if he’s also constantly being scolded for it. Personally, you don’t understand the reasoning behind telling someone off for eating as much food as they need, but they are demons. You probably shouldn’t expect them to have that level of compassion.

By the time you break out of your train of thought, Beel has found something else to eat amidst the many empty boxes in the fridge. It’s much smaller than the rotisserie chicken - some kind of pastry with a dollop of snowy white cream on top, decorated with a few lines of melted chocolate to look like a cat’s face. In fact, it looks almost identical to…

“Hey, wait!” You swipe a useless hand through Beel’s arm as he raises the pastry to his mouth. “Don’t eat that—!”

Too late. The pastry disappears into Beel’s mouth, and you drift backwards again, letting out a defeated groan. Satan shoots you a curious look - you can’t eat, after all, so why are you so upset about Beel eating that pastry? Is there something special about it?

His question is answered when he actually turns to look at his younger brother. The Avatar of Gluttony has gone rigid on the spot and is blinking rapidly, his eyes the size of moons.

“Beel…?” Satan questions hesitantly. “Are you feeling alright?”

Beel takes a long moment to respond, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Satan takes a closer look and realises that Beel’s pupils seem to have dilated to an almost impossible degree, resembling a cat’s eyes when it’s about to go absolutely feral. Whatever it is was in that pastry, it’s definitely hit him hard.

Now, Satan isn’t one to interrupt good fun when it’s about to happen, so instead of stepping in and performing some sort of spell that might help on his possibly-high brother like a good guy, he sits back and watches as Beel’s head swings around the room as if he's never seen anything in it before like the mischief-loving little shit he is. Beel himself doesn’t appear to be negatively affected, so it can’t be that bad, right?

You float cautiously around the giant as his hands ball into fists. His entire body is trembling slightly with pent-up energy. Then, a split second later, as if he’s been zapped by some catalystic bolt of lightning, he abruptly snaps back on his heel and positively zooms out of the room. You can practically see the cartoony cloud of dust that he’s kicking up as he disappears down the corridor.

“He’s absolutely zooted right now,” You comment, flipping upside with a resigned sigh and crossing your arms a little grumpily. “I told him not to eat it.”

“He couldn’t hear you, you know,” Satan says, moving over to the fridge and slamming it shut, since Beel has neglected to. “What was even in that thing?”

You shrug. “Don’t know. I’ve just been calling it demon-nip.”

“I suppose that it does to demons what catnip does to cats, then?” Satan doesn’t even wait for you to answer before continuing - rude. “How did you even get a hold of it? Never mind that, how did you manage to get it in a pastry and put it in the fridge?”

“I got some help from one of the poltergeists downtown to make it,” You wave your hands about dismissively. “You should pay more attention when you go out. I disappeared for, like, five hours, and you didn’t even notice.”

“When even was this?”

“Tuesday, I think. Remember when you bought that giant bag of cat paw-shaped biscuits and then accidentally dropped the bag in the hall and got them everywhere?”

You don’t miss the way that the tips of his ears go slightly pink as he coughs subtly and averts his gaze. “...why would the poltergeists help you? They hate humans.”

“I don’t know, actually…” You ponder for a moment, then decide, “...probably because I’m cute.”

“Are you?” Satan deadpans. “Cute is what you’d call a cat. You’re just… tolerable.”

“Oh, fuck you, I think I’m adorable.” You huff, flying over and poking him hard in the side of the head. Satan hisses in pain and reaches up to rub the sore spot, but he supposes he should have seen that blow coming - you’re never too humble to make yourself physical enough to hit him after an insult.

“Where did that idea even come from?” He asks quickly, not wanting to take another attack. You may be a mere imprint of a dead human, but your fingers are sharp, and he’d prefer not to provoke you further if he can avoid it.

His change of subject is so abrupt and obvious that it’s almost laughable, but you choose not to call him out on it. As much as you’d like to set him on fire or something, he hasn’t given you a really good reason to commit arson yet, and you’d just end up feeling bad for doing it. Well, to be fair, he did kill you… but still, you don’t want to keep holding that over his head.

“I read it in a book.” You answer. Satan’s eyes light up slightly.

“Do you remember the title?” He asks almost eagerly, and you disguise a snicker. His intentions are practically painted in bright red paint across his face - he’s hoping that there’ll be more schemes like the one you’ve performed that he can use against that sadist of an older brother of his.

Unfortunately for him, the book doesn’t exist. “Yeah. It’s called One Hundred Ways To Get Back At The Ass That Killed You, Free Of Murder and Actual Crimes That Might Get You Persecuted And Sent To Super Hell.”

Satan clearly isn’t thinking very hard today, because for a moment he actually looks as if he believes you - you suppose it’s because he’s grown desensitised to the oddness of such long titles after hearing so many weirdly specific anime titles from the otaku brother that you still have yet to see come out of his room. (You’ve floated in a few times to have a look around and appreciate the decor, but other than that, you’ve barely even seen his face. You’re not even sure what his name is, to be honest…)

He realises what you’re getting at after a moment, though, and immediately frowns at you in disapproval. You just grin, pleased with your small victory.

“You're insufferable,” He says, shaking his head with an long sigh.

“No, I'm cute,” You counter, frowning. “Weren't you listening to me earlier?”

He throws his hands up hastily as you drift forward with a hand brandished and a nasty glint in your eye, unwilling to get jabbed at again. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

You, however, don't relent. Eyes narrowing, you float even closer - so close that, if you'd been physical, he’d have been able to feel your breath on his face. “Say it.”

Satan may be one of the seven most powerful demons in the Devildom (below Diavolo, of course, and possibly Barbatos), but the aggression of a pissed-off ghost, especially if that ghost is you, isn't anything he wants to be on the receiving end of right now. “Fine, fine! You're adorable, you're cute, whatever. Now will you leave me alone?”

You finally pull back, beaming in a gratified fashion. “That's all I wanted to hear!”

Satan gives you an irritated look as you drift back across the kitchen, a satisfied grin on your face. “You’re insufferable.”

“You’ve said that already,” You sing back, laughing in victory when you see his eyebrow twitch slightly in annoyance. “And you had the nerve to lecture me about creativity earlier! Why don’t you come up with better material, Mr Shoes-Up-My-Ass?”

He doesn’t reply for a good moment, attempting to think of a insult to counter your admittedly slightly juvenile one. Try as he might, though, all of his good jibes seem to have evaporated. “...shut up.”

His pathetic response, of course, immediately compels you to take the piss out of him. Clutching your chest dramatically, as if Satan’s just stabbed you with the knife you’d been waving about earlier, you wail, “Oh, thy words do wound me! 'Tis like thou hath rip’d my heart out with thy own hands!”

Satan glares you for a long moment, but he doesn’t have the heart to keep it up when you’re grinning so brightly. Honestly, you’re a nuisance and a brat sometimes, sure, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t consider you his closest friend at this point. “...do you even know how to use those words?”

You drop the act faster than Asmo throws it down on a Saturday night, shrugging and floating back over to hover just above the chair across from Satan’s. “Nope. It sounded right, though, right?”

“I haven’t read enough works in Old English to know,” Satan admits with a shake of his head. “But it did, I suppose…”

It’s kind of weird that he’s agreeing so easily, you think. Has he just had enough of your bullshit and is complying with to keep you quiet? Or has he just finally seen the light of your brilliance?

...well, you suppose it doesn’t matter. You grin and move to ruffle his hair, but forget to make your hand physical and instead end up flying right through his head. Satan shudders slightly - though he doesn’t feel it, it’s still weird to have an entire hand and arm go through his cranium.

“Could you not?” He complains as you right yourself and pull your hand back again. “This feels weird.”

“Baby.”

“Pet names aren’t going to do anything,” He sighs, pulling his chair to the side so that he’s no longer half-inside your torso. “Hands to yourself.”

“No, it was an insult,” You correct him. “I was calling you a baby. Though bitch-boy works too.”

Satan lets out a long sigh. Now you’re just back where you started.

#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me imagines #satan x reader #except it's more of a satan & reader #crack #ghosts #swd satan #swd beelzebub #I've taken a look through my obey me drafts and noticed a pattern #if i'm writing about one of the brothers beel always seems to show up as a cameo #now that i think about it this prompt has some real angst potential...#unfortunately i seem to incapable of writing anything but fluf and funny in these trying times #anyway i hope you enjoyed this!!#the ending is super abrupt but i've already spent too long on this thing so just TAKE IT

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juletheghoul · 3 years

Text

Oblivius Chapter 3

So... more pain... yay!

I've become obsessed with these two in a very short time and I decided I'll just put out Chapters as I write them. Enjoy! <3

(Also - conveniently, Tom doesn't exist lmao)

Likes & reblogs are appreciated

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Angst, yearning, 18+ language, (Please let me know if I forget anything)

Masterlist Series Masterlist Part 2

-------

Age: 17

“Hey! Don’t slam the door Spills - you know she’s… delicate.” He patted the dashboard affectionately as you put your seat-belt on - carefully so as not to drop the breakfast you’d brought for both of you. You stared at him incredulously.

“You mean this rustbucket?” You laughed as he carefully pulled out of your driveway.

“Don’t say that about her, she’s perfectly fine.” He turned on the radio and you heard the same song it always played.

“Really Francis? Queen again?” You sighed as you put the buttery half of your bagel into his mouth.

“Okay first of all, this song is amazing and it applies and secondly - the tape is stuck so it’s this or silence.” You could see the smile as he ate happily.

He never said it, but he treasured this time with you. You always gave him half of whatever you made and it always tasted better than anything he ever made himself. It was one of his favourite rituals, the little moment before the school day started. When it was just the two of you, lost in your own world; speaking your own language.

**Present day**

Who the hell is that?

The woman in the reflection wasn’t you, well - she certainly didn’t look like you anyway. She was much to wan - something was weighing her down, heavy on her shoulders. Her eyes were puffy and it looked like she’d been crying.

She was looking back at you, confused - she didn’t recognize herself either.

God I need to shower.

It helped but only a bit. At least your hair was clean, but that wasn’t going to be enough for tonight. There was no fucking way you were going to let them pick you up in this state. You had to look perfect - you had to look your best. Some delusional little corner of your mind reminded you that Frankie had feelings for you before, maybe you could tap into that somehow.

That’s a little fucked up, he’s engaged.

You ignored that thought as you picked out a flattering outfit and tried to work a miracle with your makeup. The reflection smiled back at you now, and you could almost recognize her - the sadness was still there but you were ignoring that too. There would be no room for sadness tonight.

“Hi! So glad you came out with us, you look lovely!” Claudia greeted you when you got into Frankie’s truck. Same truck you’d been getting into since you were a teenager, same truck he refused to get rid of because ‘shouldn’t fix what isn’t broken’. You saw the look Frankie gave you in the rear-view, saw his eyes quickly flash towards the exposed skin of your legs and a cruel little part of you soared at that. Got you it seemed to say.

“You look great Spills, Benny is going to eat you up.” He said it playfully but you heard the slight tinge of bitterness. Claudia didn’t notice.

“Oh yes, Benny is going to be all over you. They’re all going to love you, Will and Santi. I know they will.” Even her voice was sweet and you couldn’t help that it pissed you off how nice she was.

“Who’s Benny? Or Will or Santi for that matter?” The names meant nothing to you.

“Army buddies.” You knew him well enough to sense there was something that was bothering him, could it be the thought of his army buddies liking you? Your ego definitely liked that idea.

“They can be a little rough around the edges, but they’re sweet. Benny and his brother Will, even Santi. You’ll love them.” She was smiling at you, beaming.

We’ll see about that.

---

It made you a little sad when Frankie held the door open for the two of you as you walked into the bar. Nothing had changed, you knew that if you went to the last booth your combined initials would still be carved into the table. You knew that the second last stool was wobbly and if you sat there when you were too drunk, you’d fall and eat shit.

This is going to be fun.

Blessedly- thankfully- you did not sit at the last booth. When you walked in there had been a loud chorus of what you thought was the word ‘catfish’ which confused you profoundly, that is until you noticed Frankie laughing. They call you catfish? The people calling had slid a couple of tables together in the middle of the large room and had started the party without Frankie it seemed.

His smile was genuine when they greeted him and despite how you felt, despite how hurt you were that it wasn’t you on his arm - merging his home life with this army family he’d made - his happiness was lovely to behold. That smile, in this place was home. The bare bulbs hanging in this dingy bar, bathing him in golden light - seeing him like this made you ache, made you want to run your fingers through his hair. Made you want to kiss the little bald patch in his facial hair.

They all greeted Claudia and the spell was broken; it was almost overwhelming how much it hurt that it wasn’t you.

It should be me, it should have always been me.

“Okay okay - settle down, meet my best friend in the whole world. This is Spills.” He placed his hand at the small of your back - just barely - to bring you forward and they all smiled warmly at you.

“It’s nice to meet you - we’ve heard a lot about you.” A ruggedly handsome man with greying hair walked over to you and shook your hand warmly. He gave you a wink that suggested he knew more about you than you would have liked. “I’m Santi - but everyone calls me Pope.”

You went around as they all introduced themselves, a beautiful blond man named Will who called you sweetheart and gave you a -very welcome- lingering hug.

“Hey, I’m Benny - “ Frankie cut him off.

“Benny - behave please.” Frankie’s face was all smiles but you recognized the tone.

“I’m okay Francis. I can take care of myself.” You smiled at him sweetly and you shook Benny’s hand.

“Yeah Francis, let the lady speak for herself. It’s nice to meet you.” He smiled and guided you to sit beside him. You chanced a glance back at Frankie and you thought you caught a look of recognition between him and Pope but you couldn’t dwell on that. Your emotional attachment to Frankie could have been warping your perception of everything.

I’m seeing what I want to see.

---

Benny was chatty, he was sweet and a couple of years younger and you could tell he was a bit wild. Will - who you learned was his brother sat with the two of you and you learned about their childhoods, what had led them to join the army. You learned that Benny liked to box, which was strangely fitting and you learned that Frankie was one hell of a pilot.

At times you could almost ignore the rocks in the pit of your stomach, when Benny laughed and threw his arm around you. It felt nice to have someone pay attention to you this way, even if you weren’t exactly on the same wavelength. A little flirting couldn’t do any harm though and so you let it happen. You smiled sweetly and left his arm in place.

“So why do you guys call him Catfish?” The nickname was strange, he’d always been Frankie or Francis - Francisco when you were angry.

“Isn’t it obvious? Looks like a catfish with those ridiculous whiskers.” Will was laughing and when you looked back at him you found his gaze already fixed on you. On the closeness between you and Benny, you could see the way his eyes narrowed slightly.

Are you jealous right now? You’ve gotta be kidding me.

You could feel your blood boiling, was it all in your head? Were you just hoping that he’d be jealous of… what? Nothing was happening. Benny was cute, sure - but you didn’t want him.

I want you, you idiot.

Suddenly it was too much. You couldn’t be there surrounded by this part of his life that didn't include you. Pope walked over to the three of you as you got up - you needed to get out.

“Just going to grab some air - be back in a few.” You smiled as best you could, Will asked if you needed company, you declined politely.

The cool night air enveloped you when you opened the door - it helped a lot. There was a group of tables with ashtrays just outside the bar and you chose one of the empty ones. There was a gorgeous breeze out, you hadn’t realized how stuffy and suffocating it was inside.

Maybe it's just your brain.

“You okay Spills?” His voice crept down your spine.

“Yep - all good. You?” You could hear him approaching you, felt him sit next to you but you couldn’t look at him.

“I’m okay.” He sat beside you quietly, bumping his shoulder to yours. “What did you think of my friends?” You ignored his tone, somehow hopeful and bitter at the same time.

“They’re really nice, Benny and Will are sweet - Santi seems a little broody.” He laughed and you looked over at him - his big smile brought out your own.

“Just wait - once he’s comfortable around you he’ll never shut up. Those guys have been with me through a lot.” You kept forgetting that there was so much about his time away that you didn’t know. Things Claudia knew.

“You want to talk about it?” You bumped his shoulder back, knowing that sometimes he just needed to be asked. He looked at you strangely then, almost like he had just recognized you.

“Spills-” The door burst open with a loud laugh and Claudia came looking for him.

“Hey babe! Come on, they're making a toast.” She was all breathless smiles, wine dark lips and the end of your moment with him. He sighed loudly, a big smile on his face for her.

“Another time, let's go inside.” he said back to you as he walked towards her, towards Claudia and away from you.

--------------

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#pedro pascal #frankie x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #frankie x f!reader #pedro pascal fic #frankie x female reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie x you #oblivius

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lilacprincessofrecovery · 3 years

Text

A Stark Halloween Party // Tony Stark x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 1788 Warning: Light insecurity

There's this one girl. She wasn't a girl. She was a woman. She was bigger than other women. She was different. She loved herself. That's what drew big time tech billionare Tony Stark to her. He liked that she was confident. She was sometimes sarcastic under her breath when she thought no one could hear her. Tony realized that she was very similar to him. Tony didn't treat her like he treated Pepper. Pepper had actually decided to go to a law firm instead of working with Tony.

He knew y/n would be slower than Pepper in heels. He would only order her to stand beside him and write his work notes while he was in his lab. She would make him laugh. That wasn't easy for him since the New York incident. He loved to see her every day at 10am. Being confident was a great thing to be around Tony Stark.

Another thing about him, Tony always loved parties. No disaster would get him down when it came to a celebration or charity. Halloween was a big shen-dig for him. He was a man who liked costumes, too. He made everyone's costumes better yet he had someone else make the costumes; not that he didn't have an idea of the costumes but he couldn't sew. He decided after the computer generated the costumes to go and switch them up himself and give everyone Tony Stark appointed costumes.

He had called everyone in the compound to the main conference room. Everyone was surprised that Tony called everyone since there was nothing on the news or on the tv monitors hanging around the place, lately. He explained that he wanted to throw a Halloween bash. He started giving everyone their costumes and that their outfits will be sent to them when they get made. It was 2 weeks until Halloween. He could do it. He even thought about making them dress up as each other but after he chuckled about that he decided to go with traditional costumes.

Tony named off announcing the costumes explaining he used a generator so they won't guess he chose legitimately to give him and y/n similar matching costumes. or get annoyed if they didn't like the costumes he picked.

Steve. Sailor.

Natasha. Angel.

Y/n. Princess.

Clint. Ghost Face.

Thor. Pro Wrestler.

Peter Parker. Vampire.

Sam. Police Officer.

Scott. Devil.

Rhodey. Storm Trooper.

Wanda. Jessica Rabbit. (Mostly because of the hair)

Vision. Michael Myers.

Bucky. Werewolf.

Happy. Superman.

Loki. Plague Doctor.

and himself. Prince Charming.

It was a bit harder than he thought to give them all costumes. They all practically live in costumes. He chose the most ironic costumes he could. He however made sure he and y/N were matching. He wouldn't tell he didn't generate the costumes. Only FRIDAY knows.

Once everyone got their costumes, they're of course was arguements of why they got the costume they got. Tony rolled his eyes. "Deal with it." He smiled at y/N and went and left to go to his office. He ordered a famous designer to create the costumes except the princess one. He wanted to design that one himself.

"I can't believe I'm even coming to this party," Loki complained.

"Your face will be covered, Brother," Thor responded.

Loki groaned.

"I am stronger than any wrestler," Thor thinks. "I do not trust technology."

Steve looked at Natasha. "I considered joining the marines. I preferred to be an army soldier though."

Natasha was in shock and crossed her arms. "I am no angel. I would rather be a ninja."

Steve chuckles, "Tony's not going to change his mind."

Natasha rolled her eyes, "I blame the computer more than him."

Wanda looked to Steve and Natasha, "My costume is the most sexist outfit..."

Vision looks at her with a soft smile, "I would love to see you in that costume."

Wanda then forgets all her worries about being so sexy and caresses his cheek, "You ok with your costume babe?"

Vision nods, "I will wear whatever is given. I haven't ever celebrated Halloween before."

Wanda smiles, "Ok."

Vision tilts his head, "Who is Michael Myers?"

Wanda calmly describes the psycho to him.

Vision thinks, "I see..." He said that a lot.

Scott looks to Clint, "I'm just glad to be a part of this team."

Clint nodded, "I was going to take my kids trick-or-treating this year..."

Scott laughed, "Well maybe it won't be on actual Halloween."

Clint nodded, "Hope so." He wasn't too fond of his costume. The devil? Really? He disapproved.

Natasha looked at Clint, "Really? you think you got it bad? I've never worn a dress before. A white one at that."

"Computers aren't against you," Happy interrupted Nat and Clint.

Happy liked the idea of being Superman. Finally, he is a superhero like everyone else around him.

Happy looked at Peter who was over excited for being invited to his first Avenger/Tony/"Adult" party. "Are you alright kid?"

Peter nods and flops down on the couch. "Oh yeah. I am excited! I also love that Tony is making our costumes. He always makes me great costumes. You think I can invite MJ? and/or Ned? Do you think Mr. Stark would mind?"

Happy shrugged, "I don't think he would mind."

Bucky was quiet standing in a corner not caring either which way. but trying to think of what a werewolf costume would look like.

Rhodey thought a storm trooper would be cool. Star Wars is a classic afterall.

Sam was neutral about his outfit. He didn't care one way or another about being a police officer. He was trying to imagine himself in it. He could be a police officer. He loved helping people and saving the day. He felt like a police officer anyway. Just with the metal wings.

y/N was being quiet. She was worried now that her costume wouldn't fit once Tony gives it to her. Talk about embarassing. She hurriedly rushed up to her room to avoid anyone else. She wasn't an insecure person since middle school. She was surprised her confidence was currently faltering.

"Looks like the computer thinks you and I should match," She bumps into Tony.

"Tony... I didn't see you... sorry," y/n told him.

"Are you alright?" Tony arched his brow.

"I was wondering if... maybe I could pick my own costume. I mean I'll still be a princess... I just..."

"What are you afraid of... you don't want to match with me?"

"Tony... I'm not feeling well. I am going to my room," She left.

"Hmm... hey... y/N, wait!" Tony didn't understand why she wasn't happy or glad they matched.

She looked in the mirror and immediately went to bed after sighing loudly. She needed to get her mind off of the party. She wasn't even happy that she was even invited to one of the biggest shen-digs of the year.

She was very quiet during her work the following days. Tony was concerned. He had FRIDAY keep an eye on her for him. She was just anxious and didn't try to keep up with him anymore. She wasn't even wearing heels anymore.

The costumes came in from the designer. Tony already had everyone's measurements so he had sent them out. He didn't have y/n's so he tried scientifically to decide the size of her costume. She would never tell him or let him near her with a measuring tape. She would rather disappear than have ANY of the Avenger's Family know her size, especially Tony. She had a crush on her boss. Who wouldn't? He was Tony Freaking Stark. Tall, dark, handsome, rich, smart, and a superhero.

Everyone is glad how their costumes turned out. They fit just right and were amazing. Tony definitely appreciated the styles and the designs worth every penny. Everyone was happy with their costumes.

The night of the party y/n didn't come to the party hall. He went to her room and knocked on the door. She was crying on the edge of her bed with the dress in her lap, makeup running down her cheeks. "Why aren't you dressed?"

"I can't fit it."

"W... did you try it on?" She shrugs then sighs and shakes her head. "No..."

Tony just stared at her. "O....k. Come on I'll help you. If I have to wear poofy sleeves you have to wear the poofy dress."

She blushed nodding and stood up and he helped her dress into her costume, sucking in her stomach as much as she could so he doesn't see her 'girth'.

As a Prince and Princess, Tony and the reader smiling

"You look sexy in that costume," Tony smiled softly at her.

She blushed deep, "You're drunk and that's inappropriate Mr. Stark..."

"Call me Tony. Please... You've been here for 6 months... You're always with me. You know me better than anyone... You have pretty hair, y/n... and such soft, delicate figure... You are so beautiful. Now will you come downstairs and be with me at the party?"

She giggled, "We are at the party."

He smiled, "I made sure we matched."

"What...really?"

He nodded, "I wanted to be with you. I chose all the costumes. The generator was just me. Don't tell." He laughed. "You are my date on purpose."

y/N's eyes widened, "You wanted me to look like a giant marshmallow?"

Tony looked offended, "I wanted you to be mine."

"Wait... like me... and you?"

"Me and you..."

"What why? I'm not as hot as the other women you..."

"NEVER say you are less than anyone else. Where's the y/N I am used to that doesn't care what others think about how she looks? and Especially bimbos from my past. They don't matter. It's the past. This is the future." He takes her hand and puts a palm against her palm and smiles down at her.

" You know... you are such a catch. I'm attracted to you and all your beauty and snark. Yeah, I notice you. You have an old timey type of beauty like a princess... and I am your Prince. Well, I would call myself a King. You do everything for me. You know me better than anyone has ever..."

"He is so egotistical," Bucky said.

Tony rolled his eyes. "She is a Queen. My queen; not a princess."

Steve smiled soft. "She is sweet as can be. Princess was a perfect outfit for her. She better watch out for him. He will corrupt her." He laughs.

y/n grinned wide at Tony insecurities all gone and leans up and kisses him. "My Tony?"

"My y/N..." Tony kisses back passionately.

Everyone claps.

#avengers #tony stark #plus size reader #tony stark x reader #avengers halloween #halloween #stark #marvel

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charincharge · 3 years

Note

"Maybe if I stab you, you'll understand what I'm feeling like right now" - for the period one

I Don’t Want To Wait, eighth grade

rowaelin high school bff au: past-take masterlist

AN: Another holiday, another past-take. Enjoy this super sweet ride back to eighth grade with our two favorite idiots. And have a very Happy Valentine’s Weekend! xoxo, Char

Excitement rippled through the halls of Orynth Middle School as the eighth graders gathered their valentines from their lockers and headed to the pick-up circle for the end of the day. A steady stream of whispers flowed through the halls, discussing their big evening plans. It was the grade’s first boy/girl party, and everyone was talking about it — whether they’d been invited or not. It was being thrown by a new student, who’d just transferred schools from Eyllwe. Nehemia was stunningly beautiful with her rich brown skin and long braids clasped in ornate gold accessories, coming into eighth grade with an air of sophistication and worldliness that had everyone clamoring for her attention. And apparently she thought the best way to make friends was to throw an exclusive Valentine’s Day party in her family’s rented house on the outskirts of Terrasen.

Anyone who was anyone had been invited, and though Aelin would never admit it, she was relatively surprised when she’d opened her mailbox last week and found the invitation waiting for her. Surprised, but thrilled.

“What are you going to wear?” Lysandra asked. “What does ‘festive casual’ even mean?”

“Red?” Rowan piped in, shoving his gloved finger into Aelin’s shoulder. “You look good in red, Ace.”

“I do look good in red,” Aelin smiled, hoping that the blush that rose to her cheeks would be hidden by her already flushed skin, red from the cold February winds.

Aelin was grateful that her two closest friends would also be there tonight. She couldn’t imagine being brave enough to go to a party without Lysandra or Rowan.

Lys flicked her chestnut hair dramatically over her shoulder, sighing loudly. “I look fine in red, but I look way better in green.” She pursed her lips. “I do have that pink top I got over Christmas,” Lysandra added thoughtfully.

“The low cut one?” Aelin gasped, remembering the sparkly pink top Lysandra had purchased on a whim. She only remembered it because she’d tried on the same one in blue and had put it back immediately, deeming it much too revealing to feel comfortable in. Though she guessed she didn’t have anything to show off in that particular department quite yet.

A wicked grin appeared on Lysandra’s face as she shrugged. “Some of us are going to try and get kissed tonight.”

Aelin tried her very hardest not to look in Rowan’s direction at the mention of kissing, but she couldn’t help it. She let her blue eyes slide to his face, and she watched as his cheeks paled, staring at her in horror, his jaw tensing as he breathed in deeply.

“There’s going to be kissing at this party?”

“What did you think was going to happen?” Lysandra laughed at Rowan’s discomfort, and Aelin watched as his brow furrowed and his nose scrunched up as if he’d just smelled something terrible. “Don’t you have someone you want to kiss?”

Aelin’s heart thumped erratically in her chest, waiting for him to answer Lysandra’s question with an annoyingly hopeful heart.

“What?” Rowan asked, scrunching his nose further. “No. No way.”

“What about you, Aelin?” Lysandra asked, and Aelin opened her mouth to answer, wondering what she was going to say; it’s not like she could tell anyone the real answer. She was infinitely relieved when a car horn beeped in her direction.

Her dad leaned over and waved to her and her friends, and Aelin had never been more grateful to see him than in that moment. She gathered her backpack from the sidewalk and ran to the car without answering her friend.

“See you tonight!” she called out as she entered the warmth of her dad’s sedan.

Her stomach churned as she glanced out the window and saw Rowan’s curious gaze following after her. She buckled her seatbelt and tore her eyes away from his. As if she hadn’t been nervous enough before, now she had to think about kissing?

She took a deep breath and ignored the uncomfortable pang that settled in her stomach. She’d been looking forward to this party all week, and it was going to be amazing. Whether she was kissed or not.

. . .

“Well, you look very pretty, Fireheart,” Rhoe said as Aelin finally came down the stairs. It had taken her two hours to find the perfect outfit, but she finally had. She spun around, feeling incredibly in her red off the shoulder sweater and black skirt. She loved the way it flared around her knees when she spun, showing off the patterned tights she’d pulled from the bottom of her drawer. They were a little snug and pinched at her waist, but it was far too cold to go anywhere with bare legs.

“Thanks,” she said, wrapping a bright red ribbon around her half ponytail.

“You ready to go?” he asked, and she nodded, excited. They made their way to Rowan’s to pick him up, and Aelin couldn’t help but smile as she saw him. He jogged excitedly to the car, making his way into the backseat with Aelin.

“Where’s your red?” Aelin asked, and she could feel her cheeks heat as he shrugged off his thick jacket to reveal a red and white baseball t-shirt underneath. How did Rowan look so cute in everything?

Aelin let her eyes tear away from her handsome best friend to his Aunt, who was approaching the car with a big wave. Rhoe rolled down the window to greet the woman whose long dark hair was curled into smooth waves and her eyes smudged with dark shadow, making her look even more stunning than usual.

“Whoaaa, big date tonight?” Rhoe asked, and Maeve laughed heartily.

“It’s rare I have a Friday night to myself.” She paused. “I am going out to dinner, but don’t worry, I will have my phone on.”

Rhoe smiled as he handed her Aelin’s overnight bag.

“Reminder,” Rhoe said, pointing to the kids in his backseat. “I am at the station tonight, but if you want to leave this party at any time, Maeve will come and get you.”

“Dadddd,” she whined as Maeve nodded effusively. “We’re going to be fine.”

He sighed and patted Aelin’s knee, squeezing it gently. “You’re so big now. You’re practically grown ups.”

“I’m only thirteen,” she laughed.

Rowan sat up taller as he announced, “I’m fourteen.”

“We know,” Maeve laughed. “Have fun, you two. See you at nine.”

Despite her best friend at her side, the drive to Nehemia’s house was long enough for the nerves in Aelin’s stomach, which had previously subsided, to start tumbling around furiously again. She tugged at the waistband of her skirt, giving herself room to breathe a little deeper, but it didn’t help. She kept remembering the word ‘kissing’ and getting nervous all over again. Was she going to kiss someone tonight? Would Rowan? Her stomach clenched uncomfortably at that thought.

“You okay?” Rowan asked, noticing her fidgeting beside him.

“Mhm,” she nodded.

He definitely knew she was lying, but she was grateful he didn’t press her. She didn’t think she’d be able to explain what was causing her so much anguish.

“Wow, nice place…” Rhoe commented as he pulled up the long driveway. Nice was a bit of an understatement. The house was much less a house and more of a castle. Giant windows took up most of the front of the house, showing the thriving party inside. “Have fun!” Rhoe called out to them, but Aeiln was only focused on her breathing. The nerves in her gut had multiplied and exploded, and she was starting to feel like she had a real stomach ache.

Rowan exited the car first, and she was grateful that he reached back and helped her out of the car. She felt unsteady on her feet.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, and Aelin nodded again, relieved that he let her link her arm with his as they made their way into the party.

Inside it was, like, a real party. Aelin struggled to take another breath, looking at the boys and girls dancing closely, backs and fronts pressed against each other with not a millimeter of air between them as hips swayed in time with the music overhead. Grinding. Lysandra had told her the name for that particular dance. People were grinding.

Of course that’s where Lysandra was already, on the dance floor with some boy’s hands placed dangerously low on her hips as they moved together. Aelin gulped. Was she going to have to dance like that? She didn’t think she’d be able to.

“I don’t have to dance, do I?” Rowan asked quietly, and Aelin smiled as she looked over at his panicked face.

“No way,” she said, thinking the exact same thing.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Where do we go first?” Aelin asked, looking to Rowan for guidance, but it was as if his shyness had been activated at the sight of so many people. He shoved his hands into his pockets and his shoulders hunched over as his eyes scanned the crowds of students.

Ugh. He would be no use.

“Aelin!” Aelin gasped as two dark arms wrapped around her shoulders, hugging her tightly and pulling her away from Rowan. “Thank you so much for coming!”

Aelin nodded dumbly at her party host, who smiled widely at the pair who’d just entered her house. She wore a flowy pink top that billowed around her like an ethereal cloud and jeans that looked more expensive than anything Aelin had ever owned. Aelin struggled to say something, but she didn’t have to worry. Nehemia was playing gracious host, explaining the set up to them as she gave them a small guided tour.

“Feel free to join people on the dance floor,” she explained, pointing to the wooden floor that had been set up in the middle of the room. “I think there are a few games going on in the other room, if you’re not up for dancing,” she continued, pointing to the circle of kids on the plush couches on the other side of the hall, hovered around a table. “And we have tons of snacks in the kitchen.”

Aelin could practically hear the relief flow through Rowan as Nehemia led them to her mostly empty kitchen. It was much calmer and quieter without the music blaring overhead, plus… Nehemia might have undersold when she said there were “snacks” available. It looked like the baking display at Maeve’s on special holidays. Despite the uncomfortable band pinching her waist, she couldn’t help but gasp in delight as she saw the spread in the kitchen.

Pink frosted cupcakes were plated by the dozen, surrounded by bowls upon bowls of all kinds of chocolate. Chocolate covered pretzels with red sugar crystals, heart shaped chocolates in beautiful red wrappers, bowls of powder covered truffles…. Aelin licked her lips. She loved chocolate.

“Want something, Ace?” Rowan asked, half laughing because she was certain he already knew the answer.

“Cupcake please!”

Nehemia smiled. “Oh, I’m glad you’re going to take one. We ordered them special from my favorite bakery in Eyllwe,” she told Aelin, and she nodded excitedly, happy that she seemed to have gained approval from the new girl.

She reached for the cupcake in Rowan’s hands and took a large bite immediately. She hummed with happiness as the chocolate cake and strawberry frosting hit her tongue, relishing in the sweetness.

“So good,” she mumbled through the crumbs, earning another smile from Nehemia. She managed to inhale it in about three bites, laughing as Rowan flicked a stray crumb from her nose. “Whoops,” she laughed. Nehemia joined in the laughter but flitted off to welcome her next party guests — an overhead ding announced the front door opening.

“Want to go check out the games?” Rowan asked, and Aelin nodded. Since grinding with Rowan was not an option, games sounded safer.

But as they made their way into the adjacent room, Aelin realized her mistake. A glass bottle spun slowly, making its way around the circle and finally landed on a grinning Dorian Havillard. She felt her stomach tumble as he leaned over the table and pressed his lips against a shy girl in her computer class named Sorscha. Only, she didn’t seem so shy right now. She was kissing Dorian in front of practically her whole class!

Aelin was too afraid to look at Rowan, but out of the corner of her eye she could see him wringing his fingers in front of himself. A sure sign of discomfort.

The crowd cheered as the pair parted, their faces flushed and eyes glowing as Sorscha passed the bottle to a boy on her left. He turned around with a wide smile.

“You two wanna join?” he asked, scooting over to make room for Aelin and Rowan to sit. Umm. No. No they did not. Dancing would be less weird than this.

Aelin’s jaw almost came unhinged as Rowan replied with a quiet, “Sure.”

Sure? SURELY he knew what he was say yes to, right?

Aelin whipped around to look at him, his brow set in a determined line as he glanced back at her. He shrugged, as if to say Why not? And Aelin was positive her face read the thousand reasons why they could not. First, she didn’t want to risk kissing anyone except for Rowan. Second, she didn’t want to see Rowan kiss anyone else, and third, she absolutely didn’t want her first kiss to be in a game of spin the bottle? At a party? In front of all these people?

As Rowan began to sit, Aelin’s stomach flipped again. Like. Really bad. Like, worse than just nerves.

It had to be these tights. They felt like they were squeezing her insides, and now that there was food inside her, it needed to come out immediately. This was not good.

“Uh, does anyone know where the bathroom is?” Aelin asked the circle, avoiding eye contact with Rowan, who had fully sat down now. She knew it wasn’t smart to leave him alone to kiss whoever he wanted, but her stomach did that awful squeezing thing again, and she knew if she waited much longer she’d completely embarrass herself.

“Down the hall and to the right,” Sorscha pointed, and Aelin smiled graciously, ignoring Rowan’s raised brow, seemingly asking her What’s wrong?

“Be right back,” she mumbled, trying to walk calmly down the long hall, despite her insides feeling like they were revolting against her. Luckily, there was no one inside the small powder room, and she was able to slip in and lock the door, quickly divesting herself of her tights as she plopped down onto the toilet.

And that’s when she saw it. The small patch of dark red on the inside of her underwear.

No no no no no. Not now! Anything but this!

She didn’t have any kind of pad to use, and she desperately needed to get back to the game of spin the bottle. But she knew she was stuck.

Her heart pounded and tears stung at the corners of her eyes.

Desperately, she looked around the small bathroom. Surely there had to be something here, right? But as she took in the ornate pedestal sink and scanned the decorative shelves, displaying fancy bottles of perfume and pungent candles, she knew she was out of luck. There was absolutely no place to hide any kind of feminine products in this place.

How could she have been so stupid? It’s not like Aelin didn’t know that this day would come eventually, she just didn’t think it would be this day. Lysandra had gotten her period two years ago! It was so long ago, that Aelin had kind of forgotten that one day it’d happen to her, too. It wasn’t as if Rowan had to deal with anything like this.

Her eyes clouded with unshed tears as she thought of him. He was probably going to end up kissing some amazing girl tonight, and they’d fall in love, and she’d be his girlfriend and then probably wife, and they’d have beautiful children and live happily every after, all because Aelin had to hide inside the bathroom until Maeve came and got them in… she glanced at her phone… two more hours!

Another ripple of pain tightened across her abdomen, and she leaned over, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it was useless. She was going to die alone in the powder room of the coolest new girl in school, missing the party that everyone would surely be talking about come Monday.

She had to get back out there. She couldn’t lose Rowan to some random girl in a game of spin the bottle! And why was he so eager to play? Her worry spiraled again as she imagined his future happy life with some nameless faceless girl he kissed. Maybe she could scrunch up some toilet paper and put it in her underwear? At least she was wearing black, so nothing would show if it leaked. But as she was hit with another pang of nausea, she knew she wasn’t going anywhere.

A knock at the bathroom door startled her, as she cried out, “There’s someone in here!” as confidently as she could while feeling like she was being stabbed in the gut.

“Ace?” The last voice she wanted to hear right now called out. “Are you okay?” Rowan asked. “You’ve been gone for a while.”

“I’m fine!” she called out through clenched teeth.

She could see the shadow of his feet moving on the other side of the door and hoped that meant he’d left her alone, but she knew she wasn’t that lucky.

“I can call Aunt Maeve to come get us if you’re not feeling well.”

Aelin let her head hang in defeat. She should just let him do that. But she knew Maeve hadn’t gotten all dressed up tonight just to come pick up Aelin, either. No. She could stick it out for a little bit longer.

“I’m not sick,” she said, pulling up her underwear and kicking off her too tight tights all the way. There was no way those were going back on. Not a chance.

“Are you…upset?” Rowan’s voice called through the door, and Aelin knew her best friend wasn’t going to leave her alone until he made sure she was fine. Which meant showing him her face.

She took a deep breath and turned the knob on the door, cracking it open just a fraction of an inch, but he pushed it open further. His eyes examined every inch of her face, looking at her thoroughly as a slow frown appeared on his lips.

“You are sick,” he said, holding the back of his hand to her clammy forehead, his frown deepening at her cool touch. She shivered, and his eyes dipped down to her bare legs in confusion.

“I’m not sick,” she whined. “I…” She took a deep breath. Was she really going to tell him this? Searching his stubborn gaze, she knew was going to. He’d never leave her alone otherwise. “I got my period,” she whispered as low as she could, and Rowan’s jaw loosened, forming a small o as he scanned her again.

“For the first time?” he asked, and she could feel her ire rising as he continued to hover in the doorway.

“Yes, for the first time,” she hissed. “And I don’t have… things.” She could feel her cheeks heating. “Will you please leave me alone and put a note on the door that it’s out of service or something?” she mumbled. The only thing that could make this worse was if she had to evacuate the bathroom.

Rowan nodded, shutting the door, and Aelin finally exhaled and let herself sink to the bathroom floor. She hugged her knees into her chest, realizing that if she pressed on her stomach, the pain slightly subsided there. She had just rested her cheek to her knees when there was another knock on the door.

“It’s just me,” Rowan said, causing Aelin to groan. Hadn’t she asked him to leave her alone? “Can I come in?”

Aelin didn’t bother standing up; she just reached for the doorknob and twisted it open with a loud sigh. Rowan looked around the empty bathroom for her, taking a second to find her curled up on the floor.

“Here,” he said, squatting down to her level and holding out his hand to her. She held hers below and looked up at him with wide eyes as two blue pills fell into her palm. “It’ll help.” He reached his other arm out and handed her a can of coke.

Without questioning how or why, Aelin placed the pills in her mouth and swallowed them quickly, enjoying the way the sweet bubbly liquid felt on her tongue. She was so rarely allowed to have soda, and it was delicious.

Rowan’s cheeks turned a slight shade of pink as he reached into his back pocket and handed her a small yellow wrapped square.

“This was all I could find in one of the upstairs bathrooms,” he said quietly. “I hope it’s okay?”

Aelin’s eyes looked anywhere but at the face that was far too close to hers as she took the pad from his fingers, mumbling out a small “Thanks.”

“Do you know how…” he asked, and Aelin thought she was going to burn alive from embarrassment as she pushed herself up to standing.

“I think I can figure it out,” she snapped, pushing him out of the bathroom and locking the door behind him. UGH! So embarrassing.

She sat on the toilet and unwrapped the square, her eyebrow raising as the pad unfolded itself. She examined it quickly, and deduced that it was pretty intuitive. She peeled off the paper adhesive and affixed the pad to the inside of her underwear, relieved that she wouldn’t have to worry about blood getting anywhere.

After washing her hands, she was about to retreat to her same spot on the floor when she saw those same shadows shuffling around on the other side of the door. Sighing, she opened the door again where a pacing Rowan was waiting for her.

“You’re hovering,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Leave me alone, Buzzard,” she said, enjoying the way the nickname sounded on her tongue.

“I called Aunt Maeve,” he said, his eyes apologetic. “She said she can be here in thirty minutes.” He watched as Aelin sighed again. “Do you want to go back out there? Or…”

He trailed off, and Aelin bit her lip and shook her head. The idea of rejoining the party seemed absolutely awful. “I’m just going to wait in here. Come get me when she’s here?”

Rowan nodded again and headed down the hall, and Aelin sank to the floor again, bringing her knees up to her chest in the only position that had made her feel comfortable so far. The floor was a little cold against the backs of her thighs, so she made a tiny seat for herself out of her scrunched up tights. She settled in and hoped the pills Rowan had brought her would kick in quickly. And that Rowan wouldn’t move on too quickly from her.

When there was a third knock at the door, Aelin didn’t even bother raising her head. She just chuckled softly and called out, “Come in.”

Rowan slipped in and closed the door behind him, settling next to her with a large bowl of chocolates she recognized from the elaborate kitchen spread Nehemia had showed them. She unwrapped one immediately and plopped it into her mouth, smiling when Rowan did the same.

“Don’t settle for a spark,” he read off the inside of the chocolate wrapper. “Light a fire instead.”

He snorted and crumpled up the foil, tossing it into the small trashcan in front of them.

“Calories only exist if you count them,” Aelin said, smiling wider.

“It does not say that,” Rowan laughed, grabbing the foil from her hands, which—did, in fact, say that.

“I’m sorry I ruined the party for you,” Aelin apologized. She felt horrible about that, but Rowan shook his head. “You could go back out there, if you wanted…”

“I only came to hang out with you anyway,” he said, causing something in Aelin’s chest to constrict tightly. Gods, she loved him so, so much.

Aelin sighed and placed her head down on her knees again, this time resting her cheek against them so she could look at Rowan beside her. He mirrored her position, his knees up and his face tilted toward hers, smiling softly. After a few minutes of silence, Rowan finally spoke up again.

“Does it really hurt?” he asked, and Aelin’s smile fell from her face as she acknowledged the all consuming pain residing in her lower stomach.

“Maybe if I stab you you’ll understand what I’m feeling like,” she said, and Rowan cringed.

“That bad?”

“Worse,” Aelin said, hugging her knees in tighter to fight off another wave of pain. “Thanks for…” she shrugged, taking another chocolate and popping it into her mouth.

Rowan shrugged back. “It’s nothing. Aunt Maeve gets cramps really bad.” His brows furrowed as he remembered some conversation with her. “She always told me I needed to be the kind of boyfriend who could buy tampons and pads and not be scared of a little blood.” His cheeks reddened as he sat up suddenly. “Not that I’m your boyfriend or that you have a boyfriend,” he sputtered, and Aelin sighed, knowing that was definitely true. “I just meant…” He sighed as his cheeks dotted with a deeper red. “You understand what I’m saying, right?” He cleared his throat, which was suddenly scratchy and dry. “Anyway, are you feeling better at all? The pain pills should be kicking in, and caffeine is supposed to help, too.”

Aelin snorted at her worrywart of a best friend. “Yes, Buzzard.”

He quirked his eyebrow at her in that way she utterly hated as he inquired about the repeated nickname. “Buzzard?”

“Yeah,” she said, poking at his bony shoulder. “Always circling around, watching me like a hawk.” She widened one eye as large as it could go, leaning her head toward him and causing him to laugh raucously. She loved that sound. She heard it so rarely. “Scavenging for supplies,” she added, nudging her knee into his.

“Buzzard,” he repeated matter-of-factly, solidifying the nickname.

“Thanks again for taking care of me, Buzzard,” she said quietly, watching a smile spread across his face. “I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here.”

“Any time,” he said, knocking his foot into hers.

“So, once a month?” she asked. “Every month? For the rest of my life?” She knew it was a lot, but if he was offering…she was definitely taking him up on it.

He snorted and handed her another chocolate. “Sure, Ace.”

She stuffed it into her mouth and smiled. Everyone was going to be talking about the fun they had at this party on Monday, but as she looked at her laughing best friend on the floor beside her, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

~*~

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#rowaelin #high school au #charincharge writes #tog fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #valentines day #past take #outtake

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diegos-butt · 3 years

Text

Electricity Chapter 1

Summary: For the first time in her life, Melody Williams is moving out of her hometown to Minnesota where she got a job as a crime journalist for the Minnesota Daily. But this city does not only have a new job for her to offer. What will happen when she crosses paths with detective Walter Marshall? Heads up, a little electricity is involved ✨

Walter Marshall x Melody Williams (curvy OFC)

Warnings: none

Wordcount: 2.5k

A/N: So, I wrote something for the first time 👀 Pls be kind haha. This is written with a plus size/curvy OFC in mind because all my curvy babes, like me, deserve some love 😘

“Thanks for calling me. I will call you back with my decision soon.” I hung up the phone and stared at it in my hand. A woman from the newspaper in the city a few towns over had just called, telling me they were offering me a job at their crime department. I sat at my desk at my current job, a local journalist for my hometown newspaper. I started working there during college and they offered a job after I finished. I happily accepted, because that meant I could move out of my lovely parents’ house and start my own life.

As I sat at my desk I realized I had never really left this town, and I had always fantasized what it would be like to live and work in a different town. I loved my hometown, don’t get me wrong, but it is small and everyone knows each other. Every day is basically the same here. Miss Johnson walks her dog at exact 3pm, the Millers go to the supermarket at 4pm to buy dinner and the whole town eats at Al’s diner every Sunday.

Also, the men in this town aren’t something to write home about. The decent men are taken by the perfect housewives and the ones who are left, are the type of guys who you don’t want to meet in a dark alley. And unfortunately, no nice men have decided to move here in the last couple of years. The only guy I dated (we were only together for a couple of months) decided I wasn’t good enough and eloped with a pretty, skinny blonde bitch.

While the town doesn’t seem to change, neither does my job. I have been covering the local news for a couple of years now, and it feels like I have been doing the same thing over and over again. Nothing really happens here, and honestly it makes me feel stuck at my job. I feel like my job and this place aren’t helping me to move further. I want to learn more and see something else than this town.

Still staring at the phone in my hand realization washed over me. This was my way out. This phone call could change everything. Not thinking twice, I called the woman (I had forgotten her name, Stacy apparently) back telling her I was accepting their offer. This was my chance of starting something new.

In the weeks after the call, I quit my job and started looking for a new place. Luckily, I found a cosy, affordable apartment. Not too big, not too small. Perfect for me and only me. Not wanting to wait, I moved in quickly with the help of my parents and made the place feel a little like home.

It was a cute apartment with one bedroom and a tiny kitchen. I had everything I needed. A comfy couch, my kettle, my books, a tv for my binge-watching nights and lots of cosy blankets and throw pillows.

After moving in and settling down, I finally had a chance to decorate the place with a lot of fairy lights and plants. I stood in the middle of the living area, wiping some sweat of my face after moving around some heavy plants. Yeah, this is starting to look like home. I thought as I looked around the living area, satisfied with the work I did.

I sat down on my couch and looked at the clock on the wall. It was 8pm. I was tired and hadn’t eaten yet. Tomorrow was my first day at the Minnesota Daily and I couldn’t wait. I was a little nervous, but because I was so tired, I didn’t have the energy to be too nervous or to make dinner.

I decided to make a grilled cheese sandwich and go to bed early. Tomorrow was the first day of a new start and I needed to look good. Might need a full 12 hours of sleep if I want to look a little decent, I thought to myself as I stared into the mirror and noticed my messy hair and the bags under my eyes.

After I ate my ‘dinner’ (I decided two grilled cheese sandwiches counted as dinner), I went to my bedroom and picked an outfit for tomorrow. A simple jeans and a baby blue blouse would do it. Afterwards I brushed my teeth and removed my make up. I put on my pyjamas and fell asleep as soon as my head hit my pillow.

After parking my car in the parking garage underneath the building the Minnesota Daily is located, I checked my make up one last time in the rear-view mirror. No uneven eyebrows and no smudges of mascara. Let’s go make a good first impression.

I stepped out of the car and grabbed my purse. I walked out of the parking garage and made my way to the front desk where I was greeted by a friendly older looking receptionist.

“Hi, I’m Melody! It is my first day here and I was told to ask for Stacy,” I said.

“Welcome dear! I’ll let Stacy know you’re here! She’ll be here in a sec,” she said with a smile. I nodded and looked around. People were walking in and out of the building, most of them talking on the phone. They all looked like they were in a rush.

Stacy appeared within a minute. She was taller than me, and I’m not exactly tiny, and her long brown hair was tied up in a bun. She walked towards me with her hand reached out and I quickly took it.

“Hi, you must be Melody! I’m Stacy, but everyone calls me Stace. Come, follow me, I’ll show you where we will be working!” she said while we walked to the elevator. While the elevator brought us to the 8th floor, she asked me how my new apartment was and if I liked the city. Before I knew it, the elevator reached the 8th floor.

“Everyone, pay attention! This is Melody and she will be joining our department as you all know,” Stacy practically yelled the second we left the elevator. I already saw some friendly faces looking at me. “Hi, I am Melody, but please call me Mel,” I said while Stacy walked over to a desk and started to introduce me to my new co-workers.

After I met everyone from the crime department, I made my way towards my new desk. Everyone seemed friendly and there was a relaxed atmosphere. Which was a little surprising to me considering this was the crime department. I looked around and thought: yeah, I made the right call to accept this offer.

Yet, I had no idea what this town had to offer me. Or better said, who.

In the first week I worked there I became friends with some of my co-workers. Carmen Garcia practically forced me to go to lunch with her and Gia Park on my first day. They had both been working at the Minnesota Daily for a couple of years now and they were one of the few women in the department. So, they were glad I was recruited to give them another ally in the office.

While we had lunch, they informed me about everything I needed to know. “You seriously need to stay away from creepy Greg, he works for the finance section. Make sure you never go down there alone. He always looks at women like he wants to drag them into an empty alley,” Gia said while pretending to throw up.

“Oh, he is the worst! But Megan, the receptionist, is the best ever. She is so sweet and kind. If you ever need anything, just ask her and she will help you,” Carmen added.

“Definitely! And if you ever need free tickets for a sports game, just let me know and we will visit the guys from the sport section,” Gia told me with a wink.

“I will keep all of this in mind,” I said while taking a sip from my cappuccino. “but tell me something about yourselves!”

Next thing I knew Carmen and Gia told me where they grew up, where they went to school and how they ended up working for the Minnesota Daily. I noticed how easy it was to talk to these girls and we had a good laugh while they told me about their most recent dating disasters. I nearly spilled my cappuccino not once or twice, but thrice while Carmen told me about how she escaped from one of her dates through the bathroom window.

During my first week I spend a lot of time with them. I helped them finish their articles and I got to know them pretty well. Carmen is tough, but sweet and straightforward, while Gia is soft and has a very short span of attention while working. She has visited my desk every half hour just to “catch up”. But I didn’t complain. It was nice to have them as my co-workers, although they began to feel more like friends.

It felt like my life fell into place again. I was making new friends, and I did a pretty good job so far. Still, sometimes I forgot to do basis tasks like getting groceries. So now I was parking my car in the parking lot of the grocery store.

As soon as I stepped out, I felt the cold chilly air around me, making me pull my leather jacket closer around my body. Hastily I stepped through the doors of the store just a few minutes before they would close. Quickly I grabbed a basket, knowing I should grab a cart, and started to walk through the aisles.

It was quiet inside, just a few people were doing some last-minute shopping like me. I waved hello to the woman at the cash register as I made my way to the first aisle.

So just the basics, some bread, apples, veggies, chocolate. Hmm maybe no chocolate. Okay yes, some chocolate. I deserve it today. What else, milk and cereal obviously. Girl gotta eat some breakfast. I thought as I threw some products in my already way too full basket and made my way to the cereal aisle. I walked passed the apples and picked some up, holding them in my hands.

Walking through the aisle I stopped in front of the many boxes of cereal. Above me I noticed a flickering lightbulb, reminding me I still needed to watch the last episode of Stranger Things. Maybe I should watch it tonight.

Staring at all the different kinds of cereal, I couldn’t decide which one I wanted. After a minute of just staring at the boxes lost in my own world, I grabbed one.

Except, I suddenly wasn’t the only one. Quickly I turned around and bumped into a warm, broad chest which made me drop the apples I was carrying. “Oh shit,” I whispered before I looked up into the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen and stared at the man. He had a beard and dark, brown curls. One of the curls dangled in front of his eyes and I had to fight the urge to not wipe it out of his face.

“It didn’t look like you were going to make a decision soon, so I just grabbed the one I wanted,” he said while crouching down to pick up the fallen apples.

“Oh no, no it’s fine,” I stammered, completely overwhelmed by him. “I guess I was zoned out there for a moment.”

While he was picking up the apples, I decided to take a quick look at him. He was a tall, big man wearing a dark blue sweater. Damn it, he is gorgeous. Don’t mind bumping into him more often.. no don’t go there, pull yourself together! I thought as I felt my cheeks burning all of a sudden. I couldn’t even remember the last time I talked to a man this handsome. Get it together Mel.

As he stood up and handed me the apples, I noticed how tired he looked. There were dark circles underneath his eyes, making me wonder when it was the last time he had a decent amount of sleep. Or if he ever had a decent night of sleep.

“Thank you for picking these up,” I said while holding up the apples, making them almost fall again. His reflexes were fast as he grabbed my elbow, helping me keep the apples balanced. The warmth of his hand made my legs suddenly feel a little weak.

“No problem,” he chuckled tiredly making me smile a little. “Maybe you should have gotten a cart instead of a basket, might be easier,” he said while still holding onto my elbow. He pointed with his other hand to my basket that was way too full.

“You are probably right, but my stubborn ass thought I could carry it all, so here we are,” I answered with a timed laugh, feeling a little embarrassed. He looked at me with those blue eyes and I noticed he had a “don’t mess with me” vibe, that somehow made me feel safe.

As I looked at his hand on my elbow, I suddenly became aware of how close he was. I could smell his musky cologne. He noticed I looked at his hand, and he abruptly let go of me while taking a step back. I immediately missed the warmth of his hand.

“I, uh, I need to go. Take care and don’t drop those again,” he told me with a small smile pointing at the apples in my hands. He grabbed his own basket and started to walk away. As he walked away, I took a good look of him. He was a very muscular man, and I took a mental picture of his ass because that was a sight I did not want to forget. I must tell Carmen and Gia about this.

“I can’t promise that, but I will try my hardest,” I laughed, knowing I would probably drop them again soon. “See you around?” I asked him. Surprised by my own boldness I nearly sank through the floor out of embarrassment.

He looked back at me with those beautiful blue eyes and I felt a spark of electricity going through my spine. “I hope so,” he said with a smirk before he shook his head and turned the corner leaving me speechless in the cereal aisle.

I stood there for another minute while coming back to my senses. My cheeks stopped burning and I realized I had not embarrassed myself that much. I smiled to myself and pictured the smirk he gave me in my head. Then the announcement that the store was about to close in a few minutes blared through the speakers, reminding me I still had to collect some groceries.

Quickly I grabbed the rest of the groceries and headed towards the cash register hoping to see him one more time. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be found.

I paid for the groceries and walked to my car. Loading the groceries in the trunk I nearly dropped the apples again. Told you, I thought while closing the trunk. It was getting dark and colder outside so I wasted no more time and drove home.

While driving home I realized the mistake I made.

Damn, I should’ve asked his name.

•••

> Chapter two

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livexdolan · 3 years

Text

The Cage - Part One

A/n: so hi! This is a UFC based fic about Grayson Dolan. This is an AU with an OC. There is no face claim as of now but they might change idk. I’m not going to ramble lol I’m just very very nervous. Anywho please enjoy and let me know what you think! There will be many parts to this series by the way lol so this part is kind of slow but just wait aha

Word Count: 5924

Warnings: fluff, mentions of death, explicit language, and triggering topics (maybe?) mentioned

“I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be famous- never telling anyone but I’ve always wanted to know- wanted to get in the head of someone famous and see what they go through- but I could’ve never guessed this was how I was going to find out.

It all started when I was 22, fresh out of college, with a crappy assistant job at a publishing company in Los Angeles, California. Having been stuck at this job for almost three years and never even having my articles read, I was starting to lose hope that I would never be more than an assistant. Until one day…”

“Lily! Get in here! And bring me a coffee!” I scurry to Mr. Lane’s office, clutching the coffee I had just gone and grabbed for him, stopping by my desk to grab my notebook and pen.

I opened his glass door and put his coffee down on his desk, pushing up my glasses as I opened my notebook and clicked my pen, looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say what he needed me to do. He looks at me, his eyes bright at first but quickly losing their color and he sighs as though he’s already exasperated, “What is this?” He holds up a copy of a story I had put on his desk.

Oh jeez, another rejection. I push my glasses up again and start to stutter out an explanation in a quiet voice, “Well, I-I heard you talking to some of the reporters about need-needing a new story for next week's issue and well, I-I already had an idea so I thought I’d-” He cuts me off with a quick raise of his hand and a stoic look on his face, giving nothing away.

“Look,” he sighs and rubs his face with both hands before continuing, “It’s not a bad story, but it’s a half-baked idea. That’s your problem. That’s why you haven’t gotten a byline yet- you can never deliver a full idea- let alone a full article, do you understand?”

I look down, refusing to let him see my cheeks burn red and my eyes water. This is what he says every time I give him an idea. “Do you want to be a journalist?” He questions.

I make eye contact with him quickly lifting my head and squaring my shoulders to try and seem more confident, “More than anything, sir.”

“Well then, I have a proposition for you.” He gets up from his chair, his tall, lean body going to perch on the corner of his desk as he looks up at me his blue eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint, “I’ll give you a lead, and if you can follow through and get me a full 12000-word article by Monday, you can keep your job and I might throw you a lead here and there. But if you fail to deliver…” He pauses momentarily, thinking over his next words carefully, “you lose your job.”

I gasp and try to reason with myself for a second, making a mental pro-con list before replying quietly, “What’s the article on?”

He shakes his head and smirks lightly, filling my stomach with more unease, “No, you have to agree to the proposition. Then, I will tell you the story.”

Can I do this? Can I risk everything? I mean, that’s what my life’s been so far, a lot of risks and sacrifices. But is this a sacrifice I’m willing to make?

What would mom do? I sigh, “O-ok. Okay, I accept. Now, what’s the story?”

He claps his hands together excitedly and looks up at me with a boyish grin, he moves swiftly behind his desk and grabs an envelope, handing it to my shaky hands, “Grayson Dolan, he fights tonight here at the arena, go with a press pass, get an interview with him and ask him a couple of questions. Oh, and make sure we get a quote.”

I stare at him open-mouthed, frozen to my spot, “What? The Grayson Dolan?! You and I are both very aware that he refuses to do interviews. This isn’t even possible.” I say without trying to raise my voice too much.

Jace just leans back in his desk chair, lacing his fingers together and putting them behind his head, “Not my problem- it’s yours now. If I don’t have that story in my hand Monday morning, just pack your things up and leave, got it?” He smirks up at me.

I just silently walk out of his office and back to my desk, sitting down and putting my head against the cool wood surface. I don’t know if I want to cry or punch myself in the face.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“And then he told me that if I accept- but fail to give him a story- I lose my job!”

“Wow! I never liked that guy, you know. He gives off such- such a douchebag vibe.”

I can’t help but chuckle at my dad’s voice dropping a little, he hasn’t been big on cursing since mom passed. At first, it was weird because both my parents cussed when I was growing up. But after mom passed, dad decided that, ‘there’s enough hate in the world’ and that he’s not going to add to it with foul language.’

“I know Dad, but what am I supposed to do?”

“Don’t accept it! You should never risk your whole career on whether or not some guy is feeling up to an interview!”

“Ok, one-” I start, “it is not just some guy! This is Grayson Dolan! And two,” I lower my voice and chew my lip, a bad habit I picked up in middle school, “I already agreed.”

“Of course you did!” he sounds exasperated and I pull my phone away from my ear a little out of reflex, “You are just like your mother, you know that?” he sighs and the line goes quiet.

“Daddy?” I whisper into the phone. He stays silent. It’s my turn to sigh and fall back onto my couch. I mutter into the phone, “He wouldn’t tell me the story until I accepted. I have to go get ready, I’ll talk to you after the match. I’ll be sitting ringside so look for me, ok?”

“Ok, I will. I’m still not happy about this.”

“I know Dad, you’re not happy with two-thirds of the things I do.”

That gets a reluctant chuckle out of him, “I guess you’re right. Good luck, by the way. If anyone can get an interview out of Dolan- it’d be you. And if you can’t, your childhood bedroom would love to have you back.”

“Ha-ha. Thanks. I love you.”

“Love you too baby, I’ll see you soon?”

“Dad,” my stomach drops at his hopeful voice and I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth, “Maybe, bye.”

I hang up the phone before he can say anything and I sink into the couch.

I wake with a start, my neck sore from the back of the couch. Oh no. I grab my phone in a haste, I turn it on and my whole body sags in relief when the time shows up; 6:45.

I have about an hour and a half to get ready, that’s enough time!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wrong. Very wrong. I feel a wave of heat wash over me, igniting my anxiety as I look at the time on my phone; 7:45.

I quickly put on my normal, light makeup consisting of moisturizer, skin tint, blush on my cheeks and nose, giving me an almost sunburnt look. I shape my eyebrows a little, fix my glasses, and put on my chapstick. I quickly brush out my short, wavy hair and clip back the front parts. I shake my head slightly to get my bangs in place and do one last check in the mirror before heading to my closet.

Too pink. Too casual. Too tight. Too- ugh where did I even get that from? I start moving the hangers faster, getting frustrated with my lack of options. I move past a pastel purple dress- wait. I go back to the dress and grab it off the rod, holding it up in the light.

When did I buy this? My eyebrows furrow as I look at the beautiful and delicate dress that I must’ve forgotten about. I pull it off the hanger and slowly put it on, saying a silent prayer that it fits.

I smooth the soft material out and look in the mirror. I’m pleasantly surprised by how the dress fits. It’s silk with spaghetti straps and is a lilac color with little flowers all over it.

I don’t have time to overthink my outfit now. I throw on my roommate’s white Timberlands, grab my black purse, making sure my ID, wallet, and phone are all tucked safely inside. I grab my press pass and put the lanyard around my head carefully.

Taking a deep breath, I walk out to the living room where my roommate is sitting waiting for me to come out.

I clear my throat and try not to look too awkward. Ryan looks up from her MacBook and gasps, tossing her laptop onto the couch next to her, she moves over to me, her long legs gracefully walking around the coffee table.

She investigates every part of my outfit, making me feel small and self-conscious. Before I can stop myself, I start rambling in a quiet tone, “Is-is this too much? Do you th-think it looks okay?”

She grasps my shoulders and a wide smile makes its way onto her face, “Of course, you look amazing!” I smile at her and she winks at me, “When that pretentious ass sees you- he might want to do more than just let you interview him.”

I snort and roll my eyes and she laughs, “Yeah right,” I mumble.

She walks over to our coat rack and pulls off a small black cardigan, “Here, I know it gets cold in there,” I smile gratefully and take it from her, folding it over the crook of my arm and taking a deep breath.

I start to walk towards the door and she calls my name, I look back at her as I open the door, “You look hot Lil- knock ‘em dead,” I smile at her and nod, walking out before I get sappy.

I pull into the busy parking lot of the arena and gulp down my bubbling anxiety. I find a parking spot, towards the back of the lot seeing as I don’t get bothered by having to walk a little. I go up to the line, seeing a sign that says, ‘PRESS ENTRANCE HERE’ I smile at the worker looking at me and pointing to the Press sign and then at my pass hanging around my neck, he nods.

I go towards the other entrance and show a different security guard my pass and he opens a door for me, I smile up at him, “Thank you-” I glance at the small name tag, “Don.” He blushes slightly and coughs.

I blush too and walk through the door quickly. I realize that I’m ‘backstage’ and can hear the fans cheering for one of the main card fights happening. I check my small watch and see that it’s going to be another hour or so before Grayson Dolan fights.

I take another deep breath and start walking forward, trying not to look like a lost puppy and failing when a man wearing a UFC crew shirt comes over to me with furrowed brows, “Who’re you looking for?”

I look at him, his deep voice vibrating against the walls, “Grayson Dolan,” I answer back.

He gives me a once-over and I try not to make a face when he meets my eyes and smirks, “Oh, he’ll like you.” I furrow my brows but decide not to question it as he points down a long hallway, “Four doors down, take a right, then the last door on the left is him- the one that’ll say, Grayson Dolan.” I thanked him even though he was a bit rude, and made my way down.

Once I turn down the hallway I see someone sitting outside one of the rooms on a single chair. I make my way closer and my heart drops into my stomach when I see it’s a girl sitting outside Grayson Dolan’s room, “Hello? Are-Are you okay?”

The girl looks up at me from her phone and gives me a once-over, except it’s different from the way the worker did- she looks annoyed with me. She stands up, her high heels making her about an inch or two taller than me, “Who are you?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest, pushing her cleavage up.

I cough to clear my throat a little, taken back by her abrasive tone, “I’m a reporter- Are you okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine, and if you’re here for Grayson Dolan- he won’t talk to you.”

“I- I’m sorry, why do you say that?” The woman steps closer to me and I try not to gag at the smell of her cheap, overused perfume. I step back from her and she straightens up slightly, glowering at me.

“Just run along, maybe you’ll understand when you’re grown,” She says, looking back at her phone, when she glances up and sees I’m not leaving she rolls her eyes, “Grayson Dolan doesn’t talk to reporters. I wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t actually a reporter anyway, you’re probably just here to fuck him, huh? Get in line,” She laughs.

My whole body feels like it’s on fire. I don’t understand why she’s being so rude and malicious towards me but I have to get this interview. I can’t let people like her bring me down anymore. When she gives me a fake smile and sits back down, I decide to be the bigger person. Not snapping back at her and ignoring her. Because she doesn’t know me and she doesn’t know what I’ve been through.

The door opens before I can say anything anyways and we both look over, startled. A man looks over at us, then turn and glances back inside the room before he nods, looking at me, and asking what my name is, “Lily Taylor, here with Ace Publis-” I try to tell him but he cuts me off opening the door wider and my eyes widen as he tells me to come in. I try to keep from laughing when the girl asks if she can come in but he just shakes his head at her, I turn around quickly before he shuts the door, “If I were you- I wouldn’t lie to others and say you’re around his age, it’s very obvious that you’re old enough to be his mom,” And the door shuts on her shocked face.

I realize my heart is pounding in my ears and that is probably the meanest thing I’ve ever done, “I should probably apologize,” I whisper to myself and jump slightly when I hear a deep chuckle.

“What can I help you with, Ms. Taylor?” My shoulders tense at the familiar voice and I turn around slowly, facing a couch with a very amused Grayson Dolan sitting on it.

“I- I’m so sorry for being so rude to her. I didn’t mean to be.”

“Why do you think I’d care about her? She’s been sitting out there for two hours,” He laughs and I think he caught the raise of my eyebrow but ignores it, “I asked you once, Ms. Taylor, I don’t like repeating myself.” He reminds me of his question.

I square my shoulders, “I’m here with Ace Publishing & Co., I would love if you could answer some questions for me,” I smile at him, trying to come off as friendly.

His amused expression drops and he scoffs, “You’re one of them? God- here I was hoping you were a die-hard fan. Was going to make you feel very special,” He smirks at me and I scrunch my nose out of habit at his gross words. I quickly stop, realizing I need this, “Frank- show Ms. Taylor out please,” He sighs, and my eyes widen and I stick my hands out and Frank stops moving for a second.

“Wait! Wait! Please I-” Frank huffs at my refusal to move and grabs my arm as I move closer to Grayson, “Please. I wouldn’t be this adamant if I didn’t need this. Please. My career is counting on this moment. Please, I will get down on my knees and beg if I have to, please,” I put my hands in a pleading gesture, hoping he’d take pity.

He holds his hand up to Frank and he lets go of my arm, I sigh and straighten up a little, hoping to gain back some of the dignity I seemed to have lost, “What do you mean?” He cocks his head to the side curiously and I blush, glancing at the ground.

“My boss he uh- he told me that if I don’t get at least a quote from you I can kiss my job goodbye and well, it’s not the best job but I’ve worked my ass off to get where I’m at and he’s being unfair and I understand that this isn’t your problem and I understand why you don’t like to talk to interviewers-”

He cuts me off, “You know why I don’t talk to interviewers?” I look up at him and nod meekly, “Why? Explain it to me,” he crosses his arms and I think he might be upset with me.

I look back down at the ground and take a breath, glancing back up at him through my lashes, “You don’t do interviews because doing an interview is personal and revealing. You’re scar- scared to let the world see who the Grayson Dolan is because you don’t think they’ll like you as much.”

He cocks his eyebrow and uncrosses his arm, sighing, looking away from me to the wall, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he contemplates for a minute, “You got like 20 minutes to ask me whatever you want, and no stupid questions that all the interviewers ask, okay?” I nod and move to sit in the chair next to the couch.

“Do you mind if I record this? I’d like to keep this paper-free, meaning I don’t have a notebook out and try to write everything down. We’re just going to have a conversation and let it flow. I can stop recording at any time if you say something you’d like erased. I’m not here to expose you, just here to get to know you. As a person. Not as a fighter. I’m not going to ask you anything about how being a fighter’s been or what your inspiration is. I’m going to ask you about you. As a whole. Because the UFC is not your personality,” I explain to him, pulling my phone out and pulling up my voice memos app and looking back up to him, waiting for an answer.

He stares at me until finally, I say his name quietly, hoping he’s okay, he blinks and flushes, shifting, “Sorry, y-yeah, that’s okay. I just- I didn’t expect you to be like- acting like a human.”

I laugh and start recording, “Maybe that means I’m a bad journalist? I don’t know- I feel like it’s easier to connect and get the questions in without papers and cameras and all that other stuff.”

(this part is going to be a dialogue as though we are just listening to the recording)

“That makes sense, and no I can tell you’re going to be great, you treat me like I’m just- a guy, which doesn’t happen often.”

“I bet, you don’t deserve that though. Okay, I’m going to start us off with some icebreakers- so tell me what your childhood dream job was, your favorite ice cream flavor, and 3 things you do on the weekends.”

“Oh, jeez, what is this- first day of 6th grade? Fine- Uh, I always wanted to be a pro wrestler, that was my dream job as a kid. My favorite- vegan- ice cream flavor is probably mint chocolate chip. And, uhm, three things I do on the weekends...okay okay I got it; eat, sleep, workout. Now you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you, Miss Reporter. If you want this to flow you gotta participate as well.”

“Okay, fine. Uh- as a kid I always wanted to be a veterinarian, and then when I was like 10 I realized I wanted to be a writer. My favorite ice cream flavor is probably mint chocolate chip as well. And on the weekends...I’d probably say; read, watch fights with my dad, and drink tea with my best friend at a cafe.”

“Every single weekend?”

“Yeah, my dad lives on the other side of the country so we do a FaceTime call and watch UFC together. My roommate has a job that takes up a lot of her time during the week so we go to this small cafe by our house every weekend.”

“Wow.”

(this is where the rest of the interview would be but, for later in the timeline, we aren’t going to cover every question she asks him :))

“Okay, now tell me about your family. Where you grew up, were your parents married, did you have a dog, and how do you think this all helped make you the man you are today?”

“I grew up in New Jersey; my dad left when I was 10. I’m allergic to dogs and cats, so I have a parrot named Gizmo. My mom never remarried and my sister lives with her. My brother and I moved to LA when we were 18, with no money, no job, just hope. We went to a gym and asked them if they’d train us. The next thing I knew, my brother was getting a job working at the gym and becoming one of my trainers. I learned how to fight and used my wrestling experience and worked my way into the UFC.”

“You didn’t answer my last question.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, you told me how you got started in the UFC. I don’t want to know about that- everyone knows that story already. I want to know how you think the things you went through as a child have shaped you as a person.”

“I- I guess- I don’t know, to be honest. I don’t think much of who I’ve become so that question is hard to answer.”

“Why do you say that? You are one of the most accomplished men in America.”

“To others, but this- I wasn’t supposed to be a fighter. Everyone sees me as accomplished but I just feel like this was an accident. There was no great event in my life that caused me to become an MMA fighter- it just happened.”

“You don’t believe in fate, Mr. Dolan?”

“No, I don’t. Do you, Ms. Taylor?”

“Yes, I believe that we all have a path we are meant to follow and that everything happens for a reason.”

“Why?”

“Because- I don’t know- it’s nicer than the alternative to me, I guess. I don’t want to live in a world where nothing has a reason behind it. We’ll move on to the next question. You don’t disclose personal information; relationships, family, children, etcetera.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Why is that? Are you afraid?”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“The same reason I said earlier as to why you don’t like interviews; you are scared people will see the real Grayson Dolan and not like you as much or think you’re different.”

“Are you like- a profiler or something? Why do you think that?”

“I’m not a profiler- I’m a journalist. It’s my job to look for clues, pick up on the small things about someone no one else would notice.”

“Ok, I’ll accept that. Is it my turn to ask you questions?”

“No that’s not how this works.”

“You said you wanted this to be like a normal conversation, did you not?”

“Yes, I did say that, but-”

“Okay, well, I don’t know about you but normally when I’m getting to know someone- I get to ask questions just like they do.”

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“I want to know...if you’ll go out with me?”

“What? Like on a- like on a date?”

“Yes, a date, Ms. Taylor.”

“Uh- I don’t know, maybe, I-”

“30 minutes to the fight, Dolan! Gotta get you warmed-up!”

(the story is back to normal now)

“So?” He questions as he stands up and I try to gather all my stuff. Trying to push down the butterflies while I stop the recording. I just continue to get more flustered, especially when he puts his hand out for me and I shyly take it, he pulls me to my feet and I stare at him through my lashes.

“I- sure. On one condition,” I smile slyly up at him and he raises an eyebrow at me, I ignore the unfamiliar feeling between my thighs at the look on his face and continue quickly, “You have to win this fight. I’ll be in the front row watching. If you win- I’ll go out with you.”

He smiles and then chuckles, “I thought you were going to make it hard? I could win this fight in my sleep baby, I’ll let you know the time after the fight, just stick around, yeah?”

I snort and roll my eyes, ignoring the pull on my heart when he calls me baby, “I’ll be there,” He smiles at me again and I jump a little in surprise when I feel his warm, large hand on the small of my back, he opens the door for me and leads me into the hallway.

I try not to laugh at the face of the Instagram model when she sees Grayson’s hand on me, “I’ll be looking for you in the front row, just so you know.” He teases.

I smile at him and kiss him on the cheek, “I’ll be the one cheering the loudest. Knock Em dead!” I walk away quickly and glance back seeing him standing there, his right hand gently going up to touch the spot I kissed and we both blush. My heart drops into my stomach when he looks over and sees the model. I have to turn the corner and get to my seat so I don’t see how he reacted. He wouldn’t sleep with her right after asking me out, would he? My subconscious snaps back; you barely know the man! Maybe he does this all the time! I push her down and ignore the bad feeling in my gut.

As I sit down in my seat, everything that just happened hits me and I slouch into my seat, what. the. fuck. I’m going on a date with Grayson Dolan! I got an interview with Grayson Dolan! I kissed Grayson Dolan on the cheek! I bite back a smile and take out my phone, taking a video showing me smiling at the camera, then flipping the camera around and showing off how close I am to the octagon. I sent it to my dad quickly.

He responds almost immediately.

*From Daddy: Wow!! So cool! Have tons of fun! Not too much though! Not ready to be a grandpa...yet ;)

I snort and roll my eyes, responding and then turning my phone off when the lights in the arena dim.

*To Daddy: Lmao, shut up. I’ll try to have fun though! The main card is starting! I’ll talk to you later, love you <3

After I watch a few of the fights before Graysons’, I take some pictures and jot down some information about the fights and who won, knowing it’ll add more substance to my piece.

I watch as the whole arena transforms and the whole place is bursting with barely-contained energy and the place goes dark. Suddenly, lights start beaming and music starts playing, I smile at the Kid Cudi (each fight he uses a different Cudi song) choice for tonight- Enter Galactic as it blasts through the speakers everyone goes wild, Grayson moving swiftly to the octagon with his head low and singing the song softly to himself. I can tell he’s not the same Grayson I was talking to, he has flipped the switch- as he told me he does- and is now The Grayson Dolan- UFC Fighter and Champion.

He takes his shirt off and I blush at his tan skin, the rippling muscles making my brain go straight in the gutter. The ‘doc’ pats him down and puts vaseline on his face. I try not to laugh at how weird he looks with his eyebrows slicked down.

He makes his way into the octagon and I see him scanning the front row when his eyes land on mine. I smile at him but he just gives me a curt nod in response before turning away. I’m taken aback by his attitude but I know he has to stay in his fighter mentality.

The other fighter, Dominick Reyes, comes in and he has a good amount of people cheer for him but the majority of the arena boos when he comes out. I know that having some of how this fight goes in my article will make it look better because it’s such a big deal, so I jot some notes down, some about Grayson and some about Reyes.

I subconsciously chew on my nail, scolding myself when I realize what I’m doing. He’s going to win. I tell myself to calm down, I’ve never been to a fight before so the chaotic and anxiety-filled energy around me must be getting to my head.

The ref announces them both, and then they go to the middle, Grayson goes to touch Reyes’ fist, but Reyes pulls back and smirks at Grayson, “C’mon pretty boy,” he sings.

Grayson’s jaw clenches and he starts moving around the octagon, Reyes slowly falling into a pattern of chasing him around. Grayson continues to step to the right until suddenly, he moves to the left, and Reyes doesn’t see it. I watch in astonishment as he puts all of his power into the punch, hitting Reyes perfectly on the temple. Reyes drops to the ground and Grayson’s about to follow him to the mat but the ref stops him, officially calling the fight. Grayson looks over at me, my mouth hanging wide open and he smirks, winking at me.

That asshole just winked at me.

I stand up quickly, cheering loudly with everyone else and he shakes his head, turning back to his team as they run into the octagon to hug him. Once Grayson is done with everything and the crowd starts shuffling out, Grayson comes over to me, “D’you see that?” He smiles and I smile back.

“Yeah, yeah, I saw,” He chuckles and grabs my arm pulling me into him.

I gasp as I hit his hard, sweaty chest, “You’re sweaty,” I scrunch my nose up and try to pull away but he tightens his grip, staring down at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You owe me a date,” He responds and I roll my eyes, ignoring the hammering of my heart at how close we are to each other.

“What time and where?” I say, acting bored.

He chuckles down at me, “I’ll pick you up at 5:30. This Saturday. Just bring your beautiful self and don’t worry about anything else.”

“What’s the dress code?” I raise my eyebrow and he shrugs.

“Whatever you want to wear, although I’ll tell you right now they might frown upon you wearing lingerie or something like that.”

I snort and as he moves away from me a little and we start walking behind his team I realize that I’m a lot colder than I realized, rubbing my arms subconsciously and realizing that I left my sweater in the car damn it.

Grayson notices me rubbing my arms and bumps my shoulder, “You cold?”

“A little. I have a sweater in the car, I’ll be fine.”

He frowns as he opens the door to his dressing(?) room, “I have a jacket you can wear.”

He goes over to a chair in the corner and grabs a big, soft black jacket with DOLAN on the back and the UFC and Reebok logo on the front. I shake my head, “No, r-really it’s- it’s okay,”

“Just take it, you can give it back later, s’not a big deal, I don’t need it. I’m way too hot right now.”

He hands it over to me and I look down at it in his hands and then glance back at him, crossing my arms. He rolls his eyes and comes over to me, putting it on my shoulders and looking down at me, “Just wear it. Please?” He whispers and I flush, seeing that if I moved too fast our lips would be touching.

I nod softly and he steps back. I take a deep breath and put my arms through the sleeves and the jacket immediately warms me. I relax into the warmth and pull it tighter around me and he smirks, “Like you in my clothes.”

I blush and look down, “I- I should be goi-going,” I point my thumb at the door and he bites back a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll see you Saturday then?”

I nod and stutter out a response as I walk back to the door, “Y-yep! 5:30! Wait- I didn’t give you my address o-or my phone num-Ow!” I yelp in surprise when the door handle digs into my lower back and he can’t hold back his laugh as he walks over to me, trapping me between him and the door.

I swallow at his large frame covering me up, his arms resting on each side of the wall by my head, I can see his large biceps and the veins running up his arms in my peripheral vision. He smirks and leans down, “Check your pocket,” he says softly and I look up at him with furrowed brows.

I slowly move my hands to the jacket pockets and after digging around a little I feel a small piece of paper in the right pocket. I pull it out and open it up. I glance up at him in surprise at the digits scribbled onto the paper.

“H-How did you- why-” He cuts me off by moving away from me, my body on fire from how close he had been to me.

I move off the door when he motions for me to move and he opens the door, “Ms. Taylor,” He says, trying to hide a smirk.

I scoff incredulously and walk past him, stopping outside the door in the cold hallway, I turn back to look at him before I walk away to go have a panic attack in my car, “Mr. Dolan.”

A/n: okayyy so I know it’s bad and I’ll be editing it soon but I’m posting this on an ipad lmfao so please cut me some slack.

Tag List:

@pineappledols @episkygrant @georgia302 @dolan-habits @leahs-existentialcrisis @persistence-ofmemories @bubsdolan @ohdolans @vinylhazza @vintagedolan @astrodolan @zeusgrayson @deeperdolan @blindedbythelightt @dolsobsessionz @evergreendolan @dicedols @plantbasedgray

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putschki1969 · 3 years

Photo

Wakana Spring Live ～magic moment～ 2021 Review

Note: I FINALLY got my package. Now that I watched the full live in HD, I thought I would share m thoughts and a little present below the cut ^_^ As always, I would like to encourage everyone to SUPPORT Wakana by BUYING her Blu-ray!!! Her sales numbers aren’t the greatest which is a huge shame since this is a solid release.

Overall thoughts: I got the Limited Edition of course since I couldn’t resist the pretty sleeve packaging, the bonus documentary (so insightful) and the photobook (scans coming up soon). It is quite pricey but totally worth the money, especially if you are among those fans who liked “Magic Moment” much more than Wakana’s debut album. The release comes with a gorgeous clearfile as tokuten so be sure to get it! Try going for the Regular Edition if you want to save money. As for the live itself, it was a pleasure to watch and I can see myself rewatching it a lot (skipping a few songs though :P). Wakana’s voice coaching lessons are definitely starting to pay off. She has so much stamina these days. Can you believe that this was her SECOND live performance of the day? Her vocals were solid, even during her high-demand power ballads. At rarely any point did she sound overly-screechy to my ears, there were certain sections that didn’t sound 100% smooth but those parts definitely didn’t take away from my overall enjoyment. On a side note, this live was a feast for the eyes, Wakana looked absolutely beautiful in her white dress and I even liked her encore outfit even though it was a little “out there” XD During the more up-beat songs, her smile literally lit up the entire hall. Seeing her have so much fun on stage is healing. I feel like they may have gone a little overboard on the blurry filters from time to time but I guess that was on purpose.

1.揺れる春: 6/10. This is obviously the perfect cute intro for a Spring Lives so I understand why Wakana put it here but I would have much preferred “breathing” as a grand entrance. Still so sad that this is the only song from the “magic moment” album that didn’t make it onto the setlist of this live. I know, we already got an official audio recording but I would have loved some video footage to accompany it :P Anyways, back to Yureru Haru. I haven’t really warmed up to the song yet. It’s not bad and I honestly love the verses since they are super precious and feel kinda nostalgic but the chorus doesn’t stand out imo. Also, her singing style during parts of the chorus isn’t my favourite and not overly flattering. 2.where: 4/10. Oh no!! I was hoping Wakana would be singing the “ohhhohhhs”. She could have easily done it during the start and middle part of the song since it wasn’t overlapping with her other vocals. This seems so rushed? Is it just me? I haven’t listened to the studio version in a while but I know that I quite enjoyed that and it definitely didn’t make me feel as fidgety as this. Don’t know what it is exactly but it keeps me from getting into the song. I guess this is the biggest disappointment for me because I wanted to like it. 3.君だけのステージ: 4/10. I will admit it, this is not my favourite song. It’s just way too long :P But it is a very good and energetic performance, really no complaints when it comes to Wakana. But experiencing it live at the venue would have made it so much better for me. Oh well, nothing that can be done about it. The scat part at the end was a pleasant surprise. Would have loved to hear more of that. 4.442: 100/10. Honestly a masterpiece. One of Wakana’s best solo songs up-to-date and so very perfect to show off her vocals. Hearing it live like this with a band arrangement is a revelation. I love the wailing in the beginning and all the strength she conveys throughout the rest of the song. 5.ひらりひらり: 3/10. Another song I haven’t warmed up to yet. No real thoughts. It’s one of those songs that’s just very forgettable, not bad per se but there is just nothing at all that attracts me to it. :-( As you can tell, I wasn’t entirely happy with some of the setlist choices. Wakana obviously wanted to include all the album songs but some of them are just not my cup of tea T_T 6.夕焼け: 6/10. This is one of the pieces that gets better every time I listen to it. And the latter half of the song is generally much nicer. I am always surprised by how much I actually like it when it’s over :P 7.アキノサクラ Acoustic ver.: 7/10. I am distracted by that harmonica sound-alike thingy Satoshi Takebe is playing XD Still, I have come to really like this song last winter so it is always appreciated, especially the acoustic version. Wakana is struggling a bit during the ending but nothing too bad. 8.myself: 100/10. Utter perfection. So much better than the studio version. And I am not saying this because I disliked the studio version, quite the contrary actually, I LOVED it but these two versions are honestly miles apart. Wakana’s live performance feels so much more raw and emotional. And her vocals in this are pretty much flawless, I can’t even begin to describe how this song makes me feel. A perfect ballad for Wakana. 9.メロディー (Cover): 8/10. My first reaction was boring. But by the third listen I was totally smitten and now it’s among my faves from this live. Be sure to give it a few tries, it really grows on you. I can tell why Takebe would choose this for Wakana. 10.元気を出して (Cover): 8/10. Ahhhhh, so freaking cute and old-school. Nothing beats a nostalgic, fluffy pop song from the 80s. I am here for this content. The “lalalas” at the end are LOVE. 11.オレンジ: 6/10. I like the song but I have to be in the mood for it. And here we have that fake harmonica thingy again. I enjoy the sound of a harmonica about as much as the sound of an accordion (which means not at all :P) but it fits the vibe of the song so I am okay with it. The bridge is usually my favourite part but Wakana’s delivery wasn’t as smooth as I would have liked. It was nice to have this right after “Genki wo Dashite” because both are encouraging pick-me-ups. 12.恋はいつも: 10/10. One day I wanna hear her sing the “baby, baby” part!! Please! Another absolutely highlight, you all know that I ADORE this song, I could listen to this FOREVER. It’s such a shame the corona guidelines do not allow the audience to sing along because the ending is so much more powerful if everyone is actually singing instead of just clapping. 13.Happy Hello Day: 8/10. Such a feel-good piece. Initially I didn’t like it much but seeing it performed with an audience during her Music Party and now here, has really made me fall in love with it. I have mentioned it before in my initial reaction to the YouTube leak but I wish she would have sung some lalalas at the end just as she did during her Music Party. 14.magic moment: 9/10. I KNEW I would love this song more once I got to hear it live. I still feel like the composition is a bit choppy and thus not as flowy as I would have liked from a power ballad like this but OMG, Wakana’s live performance is EVERYTHING. Blown away by her powerful vocals, she OWNS this song 15.時を越える夜に: 10/10. Two power ballads back to back. What more could I ask for? I know not many people liked Wakana’s solo debut but I personally always thought it was perfect for her. I consider this to be one of her best songs. Say what you will about Takebe but he certainly knows how to make Wakana shine, at least in my opinion. And the song has only gotten better with every live performance. Although I think I preferred the version from her Voice Tour. So very glad we got at least one track from Wakana’s first album. The original setlist actually included Kinmokusei and Kioku no Hito which are two of my faves (they were later exchanged with the two covers). 16.春を待つ (Kalafina Cover): 8/10. Despite this being one of Keiko’s favourite Kala-songs I never could bring myself to really appreciate it. It’s just an okay song for me. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy it quite a bit but I don’t go out of my way to listen to it. However, I very much loved Wakana’s cover though, she does a good job singing everyone’s lines and since the original doesn’t have any harmonies her solo performance doesn’t feel too lacking. 17.あとひとつ: 10/10. Always a treat. Can’t believe this STILL hasn’t gotten an official release :P But I understand Wakana’s reasoning, she wants to keep this song a unique live experience and it really is. I can’t help but tear up whenever she is singing this.

Documentary: I haven’t watched all of it yet but OMG, this is so cool. The first 20 minutes are dedicated to rehearsals. I love seeing Wakana like this, just being her cute dorky self. But poor baby, it was hard seeing her this exhausted after the big studio rehearsal (that’s what the gif is from - being her overdramatic self, she literally dropped dead to the floor). The second half of the documentary is Wakana talking about the production of the live and the different songs of the setlist.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Wakana Spring Live ～magic moment～ 2021 Google Drive (3,11 GB) 🎁

Documentary of Wakana Spring Live ～magic moment～ 2021 Google Drive (1 GB) 🎁

Wakana Spring Live ～magic moment～ 2021 MP3s Google Drive 🎁

FOR ❗PERSONAL❗ USE ONLY DO ❗NOT SHARE ON OTHER SITES WITHOUT PERMISSION❗

#kalafina #wakana #review #video #Wakana Spring Live ～magic moment～ 2021 #it took forever to encode this T_T #audio #mp3 #mp3s

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jlalafics · 3 years

Note

things fictional couples do that make me lose my mind + writing prompts: n 14.

Hope you enjoy anon! This is totally unbeta’d as I have just finished it this morning! Happy Saturday!

14. when one of them has never had a proper birthday party for whatever reason, and their lover makes it their mission to give them the best day ever, followed by “you didn’t have to do all this for me. just being with you is enough.” “i know. but i thought you deserved?’’ and their lover smiles, a kiss is shared

_____

“I just never thought it was big deal.” Katniss picked at her plate of spaghetti. “To me, it’s just another day except I’m one year older.”

Peeta reached over, his hand covering hers from across their dining room table.

“That can’t be true,” he reasoned. “There must’ve been a time when you were actually excited about your birthday.”

Katniss sighed, looking at him warily before placing her fork down.

“Truth?” Peeta nodded and straightened himself so he could fully listen to her. “When I was seven, I decided I wanted to have a birthday party. So, my mom and I had invitations made and I handed them out during class. My parents decorated our apartment with streamers and a huge banner that my dad hand drew himself. We even got my favorite strawberry cake from a nearby bakery—a treat for us—since we didn’t have a lot of money.”

Peeta smiled, imagining a young Katniss, waiting excitedly for her party start.

“Then the day came…and no one showed up,” his girlfriend continued. “I waited for hours…until I fell asleep and my parents tucked me in bed. The next time I went to school, no one mentioned it. I cried all through lunch and finally, my teacher called my parents…it was a mess.”

“I’m so sorry.” Peeta stood and rounded the table, kneeling before her chair. “That’s horrible.”

“Later, I found out that some of the parents had an issue with bringing their kids to such a rough neighborhood,” Katniss told him. “I was a financial aid kid in a preparatory school. I didn’t belong and I learned that early. I also learned that birthdays are just another day and there is no need to make a big deal.”

“That is not true,” he declared. “And I’m going to prove it.”

Katniss looked to him suspiciously. “How?”

Peeta kissed the top of her head. “You’ll see.”

“Oh boy.” His girlfriend couldn’t help but grin. “That can’t be good.”

++++++

May 8th

Katniss awoke slowly, her eyes adjusting to light filtering through the blinds in their bedroom.

“Peeta—”

She turned to find her boyfriend’s side of the bed empty, his pillow cool. It wasn’t unusual. They had been living together for six months and even though it was a weekend, Peeta still got up early to pick up breakfast or even do a quick jog while she slept in.

Getting up, Katniss went to their adjoining bathroom, going through her morning ablutions. Her eyes closed in on her reflection, looking to see if there were any differences now that she was a full-fledge twenty-five-year-old.

Other than the slight line between her eyes—she glared way too much, according to her best friend, Johanna—Katniss found nothing different.

“Sweetheart, you awake?” Peeta called out from the living room. “Breakfast is ready!”

She smiled to herself, hearing the endearment. They had been together for a year, meeting at her friend Gale’s birthday party. Madge, Gale’s girlfriend, had invited her cousin to the party and that cousin was the man currently calling for her to join him for breakfast.

Was it love at first sight?

Perhaps.

Her breath might’ve caught slightly when Peeta had walked into the room. She had also briefly wondered if her outfit smelled like the coffee shop she was working at as Madge made the rounds to introduce Peeta to everyone.

As their eyes met during Madge’s introduction, Katniss knew that this man would change her life.

By the time they shook hands, she was a goner.

“Coming,” Katniss called out as she headed out and towards the living room. “I hope that you have coffee ready—” She froze, stopping at the archway leading into the front rooms. “What is this?”

Their living room was decorated in purple and yellow streamers connected by unicorns. Matching balloons floated on their ceiling while right above their couch was a weathered banner with ‘Happy Birthday Katniss!’ written on it.

“Happy birthday, love.” Peeta smiled tenderly at her, giving her a kiss, before placing a tiara with ‘Birthday Girl’ written in rhinestones atop her head. “Pancakes or waffles?”

“How did you know how my birthday party was decorated?” she cried out and her eyes widened at the banner. “And is that the actual banner that my dad made?”

Peeta guided her to their dining table. “I called your parents, and your mom sent a picture along with the banner. They kept it with all your other belongings.” He pulled out her chair and help his stunned girlfriend to her seat before pouring a cup of coffee, putting in a splash of milk and a spoonful of sugar—just how she liked it. “Also, she invited us for 4th of July at their place.”

“You called my parents?” she asked in surprise. “They haven’t even met you yet.”

“I went by Gale and Madge’s so I could Zoom them and introduce myself,” he explained. “Your mother looks really young for someone who has a grown daughter.”

“Why did you do this?” she asked, still in shock.

“Because you need a birthday do-over,” Peeta told her simply as he forked waffles onto her empty plate. “Eat up. We need to get going.”

She had already stuffed a waffle in her mouth.

“Where?”

++++++

“I thought you and I could try something new,” Peeta said as they walked through the park. “Your Dad mentioned that you used to do this together.”

“Why can’t I remember what it was?” Katniss said as he led her down a side road. “We did do a lot of things together…” He guided her into a gated enclosure, closing it behind them. “What is this? Are we about to run around here?”

“Nope.” Peeta walked over to a nearby tree—and pulled out an archery target. He came back with a bow and quiver of arrows. “We—or more appropriately, you—are going to shoot.”

“I haven’t done this in ages!” Katniss replied. However, her hands were already itching to get the bow. “This was something me and Dad used to do every weekend in the backyard.”

“But you had fun, right?” her boyfriend reasoned. “Birthdays are all about fun!”

Katniss chuckled at his exuberance thinking how adorably handsome he was.

And how hot that made her.

She took off her jean jacket, tossing it to the ground.

“Give me that bow.”

Peeta handed it over easily along with the quiver, watching as Katniss strapped the container to her back. He admired the strong line of her back as she walked away from the target and wondered for the millionth time how he even got a woman like her.

The moment Peeta saw Katniss at Gale’s party, he was a goner.

Peeta could barely get a word out as they shook hands, his eyes square on the beautiful woman before him. However, it wasn’t just her dark hair and smoky almond eyes that had him shook. There was a confidence in her that made her stand out like no other person in the room.

He was intimidated but also enamored.

Even now, Peeta was shocked that he even had the guts to ask her out on a date.

However, he thanked his lucky stars that he did and that Katniss accepted.

Katniss pulled back the string of the bow, hand firm on the grip before she released it with an exhale.

She grinned seeing that she managed to hit the bullseye.

“Thank you,” she breathed out. “I forgot how much I loved this.”

“Anything to see that smile on your face,” he told her.

“Get over here,” she called out.

“What?”

“You didn’t think that you were just going to watch me, right?” Katniss put a hand to her hip, her stare expectant. “You have to shoot at least once.”

Peeta shook his head as he joined her. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Then, I’ll teach you.” She cocked her head at him playfully. “Come on.”

Katniss handed him the bow before removing the quiver and placing it on the ground.

“You’re going to hold here—” She held the bow, hand in the middle. “—this is the grip. The head of the arrow is positioned in the middle of it. You’ll line it up from head to the end of the arrow—the nock. Then you aim, pull back, and shoot. Easy, right?”

“Not even close to easy,” Peeta pointed out.

“I’ll help you.” Katniss reached for an arrow, helping him line it up to the nocking point. She moved behind Peeta, her hand moving over his to where he held the string, pressing her front against the line of his back. He smelled of juniper and she breathed him in. “Now, aim as you breathe in and pull the string back. Now exhale and let go.”

Peeta shivered at her words. However, he held firm, listening to her instructions.

“Breathe in—” He pulled the string back, her hand guiding him, his eyes on the target. “—and exhale.”

Peeta let go, his eyes shutting as he did.

It was silent, the only sound being the twittering of nearby birds.

“Well, fuck that!” He opened his eyes to find Katniss at the target. “You are closer than I am!”

Peeta joined her, examining his work, before beaming at his girlfriend.

“What do you think?” she asked, breathless at the sight of him.

He dropped the bow, gathering her in his arms.

“I think that—” His mouth brushed against hers. “—I need to have you right now.”

Katniss shook at his words. “Now?”

“Yes.” Peeta was already lowering her onto the grass, his lips traveling along the opening of her top. “Now.”

++++++

By late afternoon, they managed to make it to their next destination.

“I still have bits of grass in my hair,” Katniss said as Peeta parked their car.

“But do you regret it?” he asked her, his gaze sated.

She shook her head. “Not one bit.”

They both got out of the car, making sure their clothing was fixed and in place before Katniss looked up at their newest destination.

“Our first date.” Peeta wrapped his arms around her waist as they gazed up at the neon sign: Greasy Sae’s. “I had prepared myself to take you on a fancy date.”

“Instead, you got a girl who loves a greasy spoon,” Katniss replied. “I’m starving, let’s go—”

“Before we go in...”

Peeta cupped her face in his hands before kissing her fully.

Katniss fell against him, her palm to his chest to steady herself. She could already her knees getting weak; it happened the first time they kiss and a year later, it continued.

She knew then that he was the one.

“…I just wanted to get one more in.”

“What do you mean?” Katniss asked as they headed towards the entrance. Peeta pulled the door handle, ignoring her question and her glare. “Peeta Mellark—”

“SURPRISE!”

She gasped, her eyes moving over the crowd of people—just about every person that she and Peeta knew—before settling on the three in front of her.

“Mom? Dad? Prim?”

Her parents dove in first, both pulling her into their embrace.

“Happy birthday, baby,” her mom said, kissing her cheek.

“Growing more beautiful every year,” her dad added gruffly.

They pulled apart so Prim could jump into her arms.

“Happy birthday, sis!” Her younger sister held her tightly. “I’m really glad I get to spend today with you.”

Katniss stared in shock. “How did you even get here?”

“Peeta,” Prim informed her. Katniss looked over to her boyfriend who was chatting with Gale, Madge, and Johanna. “He flew me, Mom, and Dad in. It was all arranged last week.”

“He is unbelievable,” she said dazedly.

“Peeta is crazy into with you,” her sister declared softly. “I wouldn’t mind having him as a brother, you know.”

Katniss grinned as her eyes met Peeta’s. “I know.” He smiled; eyes soft at the sight of her. “One day.”

++++++

“First off, thank you for all coming,” Peeta said, as he stood in the seat of the booth.

His eyes looked over the crowd for people all grinning up at him. Katniss’ parents stood to one side along with his own parents, who come into the city to attend the party and meet her parents. It seemed like the quartet were getting along, agreeing to brunch together the next morning. Prim was at a table with Gale, Madge, and Thresh, his co-worker at the office. The man was obviously into Katniss’ golden-haired sister.

Johanna, Katniss’ best friend, was also in attendance. She sat with Annie, who was Johanna’s cousin, and Finnick, her husband. Katniss along with the two women often went on girls’ nights while he and Finnick would hang out at the apartment playing video games or watching a movie.

Peeta realized that he and Katniss lived a full life together.

“Just make babies already!” Johanna called out, a wide grin on her sharp face.

“Also, I just wanted to say that we wouldn’t be here—eating diner food and drinking milkshakes—if this amazing, beautiful woman sitting before me wasn’t born,” Peeta continued, his eyes looking to Katniss, who shone brightly before him.

“But not before putting a ring on it!” Annie added, before toasting her milkshake glass against her cousin’s.

Peeta’s complexion reddened at their words though he couldn’t help but wink back at the women.

“Anyway, before Katniss goes running for the hills, I just wanted to toast to my beautiful girlfriend.” Their eyes met. “Thank you for being born and for making my life nothing short of spectacular.” He raised his soda glass. “To Katniss!”

The crowd echoed his sentiment: “To Katniss!”

Peeta stepped down and went to his girlfriend, holding out his hand.

“Dance with me?”

Katniss stood. “There’s no music.”

“Tonight you're mine completely…”

“You were saying?”

They went a clearing in the middle, Peeta wrapping an arm around her as her arms circled his neck.

Katniss grinned. “I can’t believe that you remember the song—”

“The song that played the first time we kissed?” Peeta pulled her in closer. He placed a soft kiss on her neck. “Of course, I remember. I remember every single moment since we’ve met.”

“I can’t believe you did all this for me,” his girlfriend replied, her grey eyes shining. “You didn’t have to do all this for me. Just being with you is enough.”

“I know, but I thought you deserved to have a birthday that gave you good memories,” he told her. “This is the birthday that we’re going to remember. The one that we’ll look back on when we’re old and grey. The one that we tell our children about.”

Peeta dared to look into her eyes. They had never discussed their future; he could only hope that’s where they were heading.

Katniss was grinning, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“The one we tell our children?” She nodded. “I like the sound of that.”

Then, their lips met and there was nothing else but their dance and the sound of The Shirelles from the nearby jukebox.

“I'd like to know that your love

Is love I can be sure of

So tell me now and I won't ask again

Will you still love me tomorrow…”

++++++

Katniss’ mouth ran along the line of Peeta’s neck as she slammed him against the surface of their front door. Her hands ran along the hem of his shirt, moving underneath to feel his bare skin.

“Baby…” Peeta groaned, his knees almost caving at the rush of pleasure hit him. He shakily reached for his keys, attempting to unlock the door. Katniss wrapped her arms around him, breasts pressed against his back, and her hands already unbuttoning his jeans. “…oh fuck…”

He turned the knob and they fell into their apartment in a rush of limbs.

“I made a strawberry cake…” Peeta pushed off her jean jacket, his mouth pressing to hers. “…just like the one you had for your birthday.”

“That’s so sweet—” Katniss yanked her dress over her head. “—let’s have it after I thank you for the best birthday ever.”

“The cake can wait.” He scooped her up and her arms wrapped his neck as she kissed up to his ear. “This cannot.”

A platinum diamond ring sat in the drawer of his side table.

He guessed that would have to wait for after as well.

FIN.

Music: “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow”-The Shirelles

#anon #request #Everlark #Everlark Ficlet #Everlark Fanfiction #unedited #share the love and reblog

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toomanyfandoms02 · 4 years

Text

Date Day // Draco Malfoy x Reader

I give you a realistic Draco. I lowkey don't like writing him like this but I think this is just how Draco would be in relationships, realistically.

SEND IN HARRY POTTER REQUEST!! IF YOU NEED A LITTLE INSPO, FIND MY 100 DIALOGUE PROMPTS!!!

Summary - Its the last day of summer before going back to school and you both plan a date day. (They are going into their 6th year before everything went to complete shit ahhaha) Tiny bit steamy near the end.

Warnings - ^^ Little bit of steamy at the end, nothing big.

Word Count - 1.7k

Draco and I had the whole date planned out. We didn't want to waste the last day we had before we had to go to Hogwarts for our 6th year.

Draco planned the first half, which was just beginning, and I would be planning the last half of the day.

Something that I think many of our friends (and even our family) had misconstrued was that Draco wasn't romantic. His tough exterior and demeanor made him seem calloused and ridged. Thought I will not lie to you, he could run quite thin at times. But his mom had clearly raised him right, he knew how to treat a girl.

So here we were, sitting on a picnic blanket behind the Malfoy manner. Draco had brought all of my favorite things to snack on. Cauldron cakes, Treacle Tarts, and Sherbet Lemons. Along with a little bit of fire whiskey that he snuck from his parents, which were not home at the moment.

We filled our stomachs with sweets and got ourselves tipsy on fire whiskey. (Draco insisted our next activity would be more fun if we weren't completely coherent.)

"One, two, three." And we downed another shot, I chased it with some water and shook my head from the strong alchohol.

"I think if we drink anymore we will be more than tipsy." I laughed, putting the bottle back in the basket. "Onto whatever you have planned next, yeah?" I grabbed Dracos hand and watched a smile creep onto his face, squeezing it to get another reaction out of him. His smile grew wider as he looked into my eyes.

"What are you doing lovely?" He squeezed my hand back with the same grin. It was so nice to see him smile, he seemed much more glum this summer than usual.

"Nothing at all." And with that I stood, bringing him with me. We quietly entered the house, making sure his parents were truly not home still. He set the fire whiskey back in their cabinet with a clink and entered one of his fire places, a fistful of floo powder in one hand and the other outstretched to me. I took it, stuffing myself next to him and holding onto his torso. He shouted a place I had never heard of before and we were suddenly in a shop.

"You know of muggle fairs." It came out more as a statement than a question, so I just nodded. "Well they've started a magical one." He pushed the doors open to the shop, revealing a bustling area filled with happy kids and adults alike. I could feel the fire whiskey hitting me now, and I could tell Draco was right.

This will be more fun when you're tipsy.

We ran around for hours playing clearly rigged games and completely failing at them due to our state. I hadn't seen Draco so giggly since we were kids.

And I loved it.

He was much more lovey and loosened up when he had a little bit of alchohol. He didn't think so hard. He would come behind me and hug my shoulders, kiss my neck softly when we were waiting in line for something. And when I was lucky, he would kiss me hastily on the lips. These were things he would usually do in private, where no one could see how soft he actually was. But when he was careless, PDA was nearly a priority for him.

After playing loads of games and winning only one tiny stuffed bear, we were off to my part of the date.

Any time it was my turn to plan a date, I tried to make it like this. To bring out a part of him only I could see, so we were watching movies at my house.

Now, my house was by no means the size of Dracos, he was born into a far more fortunate household. But we were fortunate enough to have a movie room. A simple room with a big tv and long couch to lay on. Or in our case, cuddle on. Draco had told me in the past how warm I was, and how much he loved that about me because of the contrast of his cold body. I laid a blanket on the leather couch, bringing two pillows and another much larger blanket along with it to drape on top of us. He lay down on the couch, his long legs outstretched. He opened his arms to me with a smile, patting his chest. I started The Breakfast Club and came to lay on his chest and across his body lazily. He stroked his hand through my hair and kissed my head multiple times as I pulled the blanket up to my chin.

"You really are warm you know." He said, his arm snaking mindlessly up my shirt. He traced patterns on my tummy with his cold fingers.

"Yes, I can feel that." I giggled, taking his other hand and kissing the back of it. "Maybe you should wear warmer clothes." I craned my neck back with a smirk to look his in the eye. He rolled his playfully and kept on with his pattern making on my stomach.

"I'm just cold-blooded darling." He stated. We watched through the first movie and I changed it to another, climbing back onto Draco differently this time, considering I was tired. I laid on my stomach, legs tangled with his. Wrapping my arms around his neck softly and setting my head on his shoulder into the crook of his neck. A planted a kiss there just to tease him, knowing he likes it when I do that. I felt his chest raise a little faster after the kiss, so I planted another, innocently.

A small huff could be felt from his nose on my neck. He brought his hand up to scratch my back, knowing it would stop and distract me from whatever I was doing, and it always worked. I would never not love these days. Days where we could sit in comfortable silence and enjoy eachother.

The second movie had ended and I stood with a stretch. I had been sitting for far to long.

"Okay, theres one more thing but it doesn't really count as the date. Do you wanna see me try on some new outfits I got? I had to get a new uniform, my old one was becoming a bit small." Draco nodded eagerly at the statement, letting me drag him upstairs to my room.

I shut the door firmly and picked up the pile of clothes and spread them out a bit, it wasn't much.

Now if this had been us a year ago, I would have told Draco to turn around. But for obvious reasons, this would not be the first time he had seen me with minimal clothes on.

"Now don't get all worked up." I pointed at his accusingly and with a small playful glare. His hands shot up in defense and he sat in the chair in the corner of my room.

I removed my shirt and slipped on the new sweater I had bought. It was dark green with a big white stripe in the middle on the chest area. Inside the line it read Slytherin and it had a collar. It was also clearly too big for me.

"I was hoping you would wear it sometimes so I could wear it after and it would smell like you." I told Draco, taki0ng it off and handing it to him. Slipping on my new white button up and vest, I slipped off my jeans to put the skirt on. Draco averted his eyes, he told me this was out a respect, for I did not ask him to look at me. He had told me that a few months ago. I found it incredibly sexy how respectful he was, what can I say, I find respect amazing.

But immediately as I put it on something felt off. This seemed even *smaller* than the one I had before. Maybe I was wrong?

"Draco, is this skirt suppose to be this short?" His eyes scanned up my legs, eyes widening slightly until he reached my face. I could see a clear blush reach his cheeks. It was quite amusing seeing Draco blush because when he did, it was so obvious on the contrast of his pale skin.

"I-I don't think so." He replied, flustered to all hell.

"I think they gave me the wrong one, damnit." I laughed, trying to make the skirt go as far down as possible but miserably failing when it didnt go any further than right past my butt. I looked back over at Draco with a pouty look, just to see him with his eyes nearly closed and addams apple bobbing in this throat. "You okay there Malfoy?" I teased.

"You're making it awfully hard not to get worked up when you look so beautiful." He said barely above a whisper, not helping that his hands slightly muffled the words.

"Oh you like this?" He looked at me with a look as if to say *No shit Sherlock*. I then made the decision to walk over to him, placing myself on his lap lightly. I ran my hands through his hair slowly, starting at his forehead.

"Must you tease me like this woman?" He complained with a whine, a thing you also don't hear much from Draco, any kind of begging or whining.

So I kissed him, pulling his head closer to mine and deepening it immediately. He kissed back with force, we hadn't done anything like this in a while. His hands wandered my body until they rested next to my butt. He grabbed at it and began moving my hips against his, I caught on and began doing it myself. We had done that for two minutes before I heard the front door slam. I jumped from his lap, yelling hi to my parents.

I looked down at Draco to see a *problem*.

"I'm going to distract them and say you're in the bathroom. Go take care of that." I laughed, my hand covering my mouth so I wouldn't burst into tears giggling.

"Very funny Y/n." He replied sarcastically, walking himself to my bathroom.

This date day went even better than I anticipated.

#harry potter #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco imagine #draco one shot #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy one shot

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let-it-raines · 3 years

Text

What a Lie We’re In (1/3)

All Emma was doing was trying to be nice. Her roommate didn’t have anywhere to go, so she invited him home for the holidays. She thought it would be fine and Killian would be a good buffer for a week at home with her parents. That is until her ex-boyfriend showed up, and while she was freaking out, Killian told him they were dating.

That would have been fine except her parents overheard it.

(A Christmas Fake Dating AU)

Rating: Mature

a/n: What? A holiday fake dating story? So original, you say? No one has ever done it before? Especially not me. lol. Forget all of that, and let’s jump into this trope-a-palooza of a holiday story!

Big thank you to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading over this and convincing me that I still know how to write ❤️

ao3: | HERE |

-/-

“Did you eat all of my candy?”

Emma opens another cabinet, looking inside to the wine glasses and tumblers, before closing it. She’s been keeping her bag of candy in the cabinet where they keep their plates and bowls, hidden at the very top behind some reusable water bottles. Killian is a healthy eater, always stocking the fridge with fruits and vegetables and food she doesn’t think is actually real food, so she didn’t think she had to hide her junk food that well.

Hide it, yes. Hide it well, no.

Until now.

“What was that, love?”

Emma slams another cabinet closed and turns to look at Killian. He’s walking out of the bathroom, chest still damp, and only has a white towel wrapped around his waist. When he first moved into the apartment six months ago after Ruby abandoned Emma to go live with Dorothy (live with, get married to, same thing), Emma was taken aback by the lack of clothes wearing Killian partakes in. He’s an attractive man. She’s not blind. He goes to the gym as often as she does, but mostly, he spends a lot of time doing heavy lifting at his job as a contractor since he apparently likes to be hands-on, literally. His body is toned, and the son of the bitch knows it. He also knows he’s got the face to be able to get away with a lot of…well, a lot.

At first, it was all disconcerting, but now, he could walk around with his dick out and Emma wouldn’t care.

What she cares about is where her candy is. That’s the real priority. But she knows Killian will try to use his lack of clothes to distract her. Never worked in the past, not gonna work now, bud.

“My candy,” Emma repeats. “Where is it?”

He wipes behind his ear with the small towel in his hand. “I wouldn’t touch the stuff. You don’t like the good candy.”

“Well, my good candy has been moved, and we’re the only two people who live here.”

Emma places her hands on her hips, staring him down hoping he will somehow be intimidated by her stare and fess up to everything. He won’t be, but Emma can try. They both have their tactics.

Killian clicks his tongue. “What about the fellow you brought home last week?”

“Do you mean the plumber?”

“Was that who he was?”

“You know I don’t bring guys back here.” Emma moves from the counter and opens the fridge, taking out a handful of grapes from the fridge. She probably needs to eat some of them and not candy anyway. As she pops one into her mouth, that’s when it clicks. “Your girlfriend ate my candy, didn’t she?”

He scoffs and keeps drying his hair, but she sees the way he scratches his ear. Gotcha, Jones. “I don’t believe I have a girlfriend.”

“What? Tink break up with you because you wouldn’t let her eat dessert on your dates? Wait, I heard it. Don’t make it dirty.” Killian walks toward her, getting in her space, and she knows him well enough to know he wants her to flinch, to move, to stop her line of questioning. That’s exactly why she doesn’t want to. Emma pops another grape in her mouth. “Did you eat my candy? Was it your way of wallowing? It’s okay if you did. I’ll take another bag for payment.”

“For your information, Swan,” he whispers as he places his hand on her hip, “we are no longer seeing each other, but it was mutual. She did, however, eat your candy when she was last here. If you really want to know, we used it to – ”

“Stop,” Emma groans, pushing him away and running to the other side of the kitchen. “Nope. Don’t take that any further. Some things should be left private.”

His head tilts back as he laughs, the underside of his jaw black with stubble, and then he’s reaching into the cabinet above the fridge and tossing her the bag of sweets.

Oh.

“I hid it after Will and Rob found it while we were playing cards last night. Will nearly went through all your milk duds before I realized what was happening.” He raises his brow. “You have something you want to say to me?”

Emma knows what he’s aiming for, and she isn’t going to give it to him.

“Yeah,” Emma says, “you need a thicker towel. I don’t think you want people seeing you when you look like…that.” She nods her head down and then picks up a handful of Kit Kats. “I gotta go to work.”

“Off to die inside at your cubicle, love?”

“Oh, you know it.”

Emma grabs her purse and unlocks the door only to hear Killian speak. “It’s December. How do you still have Halloween candy leftover?”

Emma shrugs. “I bought one bag to pass out to kids, two bags for me.”

“Bloody brilliant.”

“I do what I can. See you tonight. I’ll try not to wake you up from your nap when I come in.”

“That would be the least you could do.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but then she’s officially walking out the door of her apartment and down toward the elevator, a Kit Kat bar hanging out of the side of her mouth.

The thing about Killian Jones is that he’s simple to her.

He likes his friends, his job, his rum, and his women. There’s not much else to him, and Emma is okay with that. While her last roommate was her best friend, this one doesn’t have to be. He can just be a guy who pays the bills so she can keep living in a nice place and who, on occasion, talks shit about other people with her while they binge watch TV.

That’s all she needs.

And all and all, Killian Jones is a…fine roommate. Yeah, fine is an accurate way to describe him at least eighty percent of the time.

Even if she does get annoyed when he brings his dates home. But that’s only because it’s always on the nights she plans on going to bed early, and the noise of other people being around keeps her from catching up on sleep.

Emma is not one to mess around on sleep.

But yeah, he’s fine. Annoying as hell over half the time, but he’s fine in the small dosages she sees him in. He works odd hours, isn’t always on the job, and she is stuck with regular hours in her office. There’s not a lot of glory in working HR for a small engineering company, but that’s what happens when you make dumbass decisions like Emma did. She’s lucky she has a stable job. She’ll try not to complain too much about it.

That’s what she tells herself every morning when she sits in her car and stares at the drab brick building.

Money. She has to make money.

And hey, she gets almost an entire week off for Christmas next week, and that’s fucking incredible, even if she does have to spend it in her hometown with her parents and their Hallmark-like attitude toward the holiday and the events it puts on. Her mom is a teacher at the elementary school and produces the Christmas play every year while her dad is a vet and outfits all his patients in little holiday bandanas and bows. He even has a tree in his office decorated with bone ornaments.

It’s…a lot. But it’s family, and as Emma stares at this building that’s sucking the life out of her, she can’t wait to have a change of pace and some home-cooked meals, even if there are as many downsides as upsides to going home. Her Kit Kat bars aren’t giving her the nutrients she knows she needs.

Being an adult is not all it’s cracked up to be sometimes, especially when going home for the holidays is seen as more of a burden than a gift with a fancy bow on top. It’s more like that turkey that dries up and falls to pieces in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

Well, that and the squirrel crashing every decoration in the house.

Happy holidays.

-/-

“Nah, mate, I don’t have any plans.”

Emma quietly puts her keys down on the table next to her front door, laying her purse down with it, and she kicks her boots off until they topple over each other and lay in the middle of the hallway. She can hear Killian talking, and it gets even louder when she walks into the kitchen and turns on the coffee maker.

“No, no, well, you know, I rarely do anything, not since Liam.” There’s a pause as the coffee begins to percolate and Emma grabs another Kit Kat from her bag. “I went home with Milah once, but that was years ago…no, mate, it’s alright. I don’t mind staying here by myself…yeah, I think Emma is going home to her parents.”

And that’s when she realizes what Killian is talking about.

Christmas plans.

He doesn’t have any. Emma didn’t know that. She didn’t really bother to ask. She doesn’t bother to ask much of Killian. She picks up pieces here and there, as she’s sure he does to her, but they mind their own business.

He doesn’t have a family to go home to? She knows he’s originally from England, but still. There must be someone.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Killian says. “I promise if I need anything, I’ll let you know. Alright, bye Scarlet.”

The coffee finishes, and Emma picks the pot up and starts pouring, filling her large mug halfway before getting hazelnut creamer out of the fridge and making the coffee drinkable. Killian joins her in the kitchen and perches himself on one of their stools.

“Good day at work?” he asks.

“Eh, it was a day. You?”

He shrugs. “The same. I’m finishing up on this house tomorrow, hopefully, so tomorrow will be a good day.”

Emma nods and sips on her coffee as Killian taps his fingers on the counter, the rhythm the same as the song he usually hums when cooking. “So, when are you heading for Storybrooke?” he asks.

“Monday after work.” Killian nods and keeps tapping his fingers, and Emma, stupidly opens her mouth because despite what her exes have told her, she does apparently have a heart. “If you don’t have any plans and have off work, you’re welcome to come with me. My parents are always thrilled to welcome more people. Just be prepared, it’s like a Hallmark movie up there.”

His eyes widen, the blue lighting up, and his upper lip starts to quiver, laughter very obviously waiting to break through. Dammit, why the hell did she decide to be nice? This is going to give him all of the wrong ideas.

“Why, Swan,” he smirks, leaning forward and resting his chin in his propped-up hand, “are you inviting me home for the holidays with you? You’ve been harboring a crush this entire time, haven’t you? I can’t say I’m surprised. I see the way you look at me when I finish up in the bathroom. Don’t be ashamed of it. Most women find me attractive.”

Emma flicks Killian’s forehead, and really, he should be thrilled she didn’t dump her hot coffee on his lap like she wanted to.

“I was just trying to be nice. You didn’t have to be an asshole about it.” Emma rolls her eyes and turns on her heels to walk away. She is going to her room. She doesn’t have to put up with his shit. “Forget I even offered.”

“Wait, wait, Swan.” Emma’s shoulders tense, and she doesn’t turn around. “Are you serious about your offer?”

“I mean, it would have some conditions in that you are a slightly less obnoxious version of yourself, but yeah, if you don’t have anywhere else to go, you can come home with me.”

“I’d like that.” Emma twists around, trying to size him up, and for once, everything seems genuine. “I have a condition as well.”

Idiot. “What could your condition possibly be?”

He winks, and she already knows this is going to have her eyes rolling so far into the back of her head they get stuck there. “Don’t go falling in love with me.”

What a cheesy ass sarcastic line.

“In your dreams, Jones.”

What the hell has she gotten herself into? This is absolutely the last time she lets her conscience guilt her into doing something nice. Emma was already going to be miserable, but now she’s miserable with a buffer.

At least her mom will be happy getting to go into hostess mode.

-/-

In the days leading up to them leaving for Storybrooke, Emma convinces herself Killian is going to back out of the trip. He’ll realize this is awkward and not a good idea. They live together, sure, but they don’t actually know each other. They’re not close friends.

But Killian never backs out. Instead he asks her things like what the weather is like there, if her parents drink wine, if he needs to bring his own bedding. He asks a million questions a day, and they continue when they’re in her bug making the drive from Boston to Storybrooke. He wants to know what her parents do for a living, what their hobbies are, pretty much everything someone needs to know when they’re about to spend half a week in the house of strangers.

Strangers who don’t actually know they’re having someone stay at their house to awkwardly sit on the sidelines as Emma’s family celebrates the holidays and has their usual holiday arguments.

Yeah, Emma didn’t ever tell her parents Killian was coming. She knows her mom well enough to know the moment Emma mentioned bringing someone home, her mom would have stopped listening before Emma could explain that it was just her roommate. It would have been this whole big thing, and Emma knows she can handle explaining it better in person when she can snap her mom out of getting excited about nothing.

Plus, who doesn’t want a Christmas surprise?

(Emma doesn’t.)

After Killian stops being one of those obnoxious kids who never stops asking questions, they sit in relative silence for the car ride, music entertaining them, and little by little, cities fade away and more trees pop up, evergreen forests surrounding them. It’s always the sign for Emma that she’s leaving her life and going back to her old one.

That and the “Welcome to Storybrooke” sign.

Everything about the town is the same. The buildings are small and kind of dingy downtown, and when she passes Granny’s, she bets those onion rings are the same too. God, she hopes they are. This is probably the only thing that can get her through this week. She should have texted Ruby and made sure her grandmother hadn’t changed any of the recipes. If she had, Emma definitely would have stayed home.

People walk down the sidewalk all bundled up in their coats and scarves, saying hello and chatting with others they pass. It’s the opposite of Boston where Emma can go her entire day without having to say hello to someone, and a little shiver runs down her spine at the thought. She needs to get out of here as soon as possible and to the isolation of her parents’ farmhouse, even if that presents her a new set of problems.

Storybrooke, Maine is, decidedly, not Emma’s favorite place for a hell of a lot of different reasons.

Killian, though, seems to be taking it all in with the wonder and confusion of someone who has never lived in a small town like this and who is a bit shell-shocked.

Get used to it, buddy.

“Oh, hey, one more thing,” Emma sighs as she pulls up to her parents’ street a few minutes later. “My real last name is Nolan. I changed it after high school, so my parents’ names are Nolan. The whole ‘Swan’ thing is a sticky situation for them even though it’s my mom’s maiden name.”

Killian’s eyes narrow, and she has definitely shared too much about herself now. “Am I allowed to ask or…”

“No. just try not to call me ‘Swan’ around them.”

“Whatever your heart desires, love.”

Emma slows down as the road turns from paved to loose gravel leading up to their driveway. There are several cars parked alongside it, and either they now own extra cars or her parents have friends over. Great. Just what she needed. Other people around when she’s coming home and surprising her parents with a guest. At least Killian will likely be that buffer she keeps hoping he’ll be.

They get out of her car, and Emma pops the trunk for them to get their bags. Killian grabs the bigger ones despite her arguing with him about it, but she’s fine to just carry her purse and the bag with presents. Emma closes the trunk, slamming it shut, and squares her shoulders.

This is fine. This is all fine.

Until ten steps later, it’s not.

Her parents have this incredible wraparound porch with swings and rocking chairs, and sitting in one of them is Neal Cassidy.

What the hell?

She doesn’t…she can’t…why is he here? He has no right to be here, no business being here, and seeing his face makes her want to vomit.

It makes her want to cry, too, but Emma can’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead, she’d like to sink into the dirt and never emerge again.

“Shit,” Emma mumbles, stopping and turning toward Killian who is looking down at her with an arched brow. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“What is it?”

God, she can’t believe she has to tell this to him. It’s too many pieces of her past in too short a period of time. This isn’t something she ever wanted to talk about again and certainly not to Killian. She was really hoping she never had to see Neal’s face again.

Honestly, she never considered it to be a possibility.

If only.

“That guy sitting on my porch is an ex of mine. And I’m talking about a bad ex, not one of those who you can be friends with afterward.”

“What the bloody hell is he doing here then?” Killian looks over her head to look at Neal, but Emma grabs his hand and yanks on it until he looks at her. “What?”

“Don’t look at him,” she hisses. “I don’t know what he’s doing here, but I’m sure it has something to do with my parents. Just…I don’t know what to do.”

“Do we need to turn around?”

“No, no, that’s pathetic. Just…maybe he’s going to leave soon, and it’ll be a quick hello and then I never have to see his face again. Let’s get it over with.”

“If you’re sure, Sw – Emma.”

“I’m sure.”

She’s not sure at all. Mostly, she wants to take Killian’s suggestion and run far, far away.

Once more, Emma braces her shoulders, and she moves forward. If she stops and thinks too much, she’ll chicken out. It’s how she is. If she thinks about something for too long, it ruins every bit of courage she has. Now isn’t the moment for that when this week is one that makes her need courage.

Maybe, Emma realizes, she didn’t invite Killian here just to be nice. Maybe she needed that buffer to keep her old demons at bay, even if just barely, and that was her motivation all along.

That really makes her asshole of the year. Well, after Neal. She hasn’t seen him in years, but he still gets the asshole of the year award.

Neal sees her before she can get to the front steps. He rises from the rocking chair and moves toward her. He looks older now. He was always older than her, but she can actually see it now. There’s gray in his beard and more lines on his forehead. His features are similar, but she swears there’s an eeriness to his eyes and a lie to his smile. Maybe those were always there, but Emma imagines she was blind to it all when she loved him.

Amazing how opening her eyes to love blinded her to so much else.

“Emma? Is that you?”

No, jackass, it’s some other blonde woman walking into her parents house.

“Hi, Neal.” She forces a smile that she knows is awkward, but he was never good at reading her enough to know the difference between a real smile and a fake one. “What are you doing here?”

“You’ve just seen me for the first time in half a decade, and your first question is what I’m doing here? Nice to see you too, Ems.”

It’s illegal to murder, Emma, she reminds herself. You don’t want to end up in jail because of him.

“It’s my parents’ house. I’m supposed to be here. You’re not. So, again, what are you doing here?”

He shrugs and ignores her. “Who’s this?”

Emma turns to Killian who is staring ahead, his jaw clenched, and he speaks before she gets a chance to. “Killian Jones,” he begins, dropping a bag and reaching forward to shake Neal’s hand, “Emma’s boyfriend.”

Emma nearly chokes on her own air and possibly her own lungs and whatever else is down there, and she’s stuck. Her brain and her feet and especially her mouth are all stuck. What the hell is he doing?

“Emma’s boyfriend,” Neal repeats, his voice incredulous like the fact that she could have a boyfriend is ludicrous to him. “Really?”

“For awhile now,” Killian lies. Wow. Has he always been this good of a liar? “It’s nice to meet you, but I think Emma and I need to get inside and put our stuff away. It’s been a long drive.”

Neal nods, but Emma catches his eyes glance over at her. What was that? “I understand. I need to get my fiancée from inside, but then we’ll be on our way.”

Fiancée?

Neal has a fiancée? Who is in her parents’ house?

What kind of upside down hell has she walked into and how does she reverse time and get back to the place where things are normal?

“Nice seeing you,” Emma lies, but Neal is already walking inside, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him as if it’s his house to go into. She quickly turns to Killian and hopes her face conveys the “what the hell” look she’s going for. And in case it doesn’t, she hisses, “what the fuck was that?”

“Forgive me, love, but you obviously didn’t want to see that man, and I figured there wouldn’t be any harm in saying that. You weren’t planning on ever seeing him again, aye?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“So what’s the harm in him thinking you have a devilishly handsome new boyfriend?”

Emma rolls her eyes, ready to take the piss out of him, when her mother comes running out the front door.

“Emma, you brought a boyfriend home?”

Well, that’s the harm, Jones.

-/-

Emma tries explaining to her parents that Killian isn’t really her boyfriend, that he’s just her roommate who came home with her because he doesn’t have any family, but she never really gets the chance with Neal still hanging around. That would be mortifying, so she rolls with it, hoping that she can clear it all up sooner rather than later.

But Neal never seems to leave.

His fiancée, Tamara, apparently teaches with Emma’s mom, and from the looks of it, they’re great friends. She can’t imagine any other reason why her parents would let Neal Cassidy in their house, but then again, they have always been great at doing the exact opposite of what’s good for her. It’s torture, and as the night goes on, it seems like it’s never going to end.

When are they going to leave?

When can she stop listening to Killian falsify their life?

She’s got to say that he’s fantastic at taking truths and turning them into lies. According to him, they met when he became her roommate (true) and got to know each other as friends first (eh, a half-truth). Then, slowly, feelings started to develop in the little moments, and they decided to give their relationship a chance (unequivocally false).

He’s got this uncanny ability to make everything feel…not ridiculous. She doesn’t know the word she’s searching for, but she’s sure as hell that Killian could find it and incorporate it into a story to make everyone here think they’re in love.

Emma has no clue how they’re going to get out of this without her parents being heartbroken because Emma can see the hope and happiness in her mom’s eyes. She’s over the moon. Her dad, however, doesn’t seem to be.

Of course this is how it goes. Her mom is thrilled because she’s not a spinster, and her dad is upset because she’s not a spinster.

“So what do you do, Killian?” he asks. “You need a roommate apparently.”

“Dad,” Emma hisses, wanting to sink into the couch, especially because she knows she’s the one who needs the roommate and not Killian. “Don’t.”

“What? I’m not allowed to ask about the man who my daughter is dating?”

“You are, but you’re not allowed to interrogate him.”

Killian places his hand over Emma’s on her thigh, and God, this really is the worst night. Why do people have to go home to family on the holidays? At least she didn’t automatically flinch at the feeling of Killian’s hand on hers.

“I’m a contractor,” Killian tells her dad. “I used to work with my brother. It’s his business, but I’m the head on projects now. It’s hard and unpredictable sometimes when my job is to make it predictable, but it’s good work. There’s a lot of good new housing popping up in the neighborhoods outside of Boston. Beautiful new construction.”

“What happened to your brother?” her mom asks.

Killian’s hand tightens over hers while his other hand scratches behind his ear. “Liam passed last year. Car accident.”

Mary Margaret places her hands over her chest while Neal and Tamara look at each other, obviously ready to go. Emma, meanwhile, tries not to act shocked. She should know this. She should know that he had a brother who died. She’s heard him talk about Liam before, but she thought…she thought he was alive, just that he lived really, really far away or something like that.

“I’m so sorry, Killian,” Mary Margaret sighs.

“Thank you, Ms. Nolan.”

Silence falls in the room, and it feels like a lot of her time in high school when she got caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing. At least now she can have alcohol or drive away. One or the other, though, obviously.

Or she can go back to that sinking into the ground thing. That seemed like a good idea.

“Oh, would you look at the time,” Tamara sighs with a clap of her hands. “Honey, we need to go.”

“Won’t you stay for dinner?” Mary Margaret asks.

What the hell, Mom?

“We really have to go,” Tamara insists. “It was nice seeing you guys, though.”

“Oh, it was wonderful seeing you, sweetie. Good luck in New York. You’re going to be great at your new job.” Mary Margaret hugs Tamara. “Nice seeing you as well, Neal. You’ll fit right in, but I know your dad will miss you.”

Emma is so busy trying to take in all of this brand new information that she doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation. Through blurred vision, she sees her mom hug Neal, and yeah, Emma wants to go home. She wants to go back to her apartment where she doesn’t have to put up with this kind of shit.

Where there’s no Neal and his fiancée and especially where her mom isn’t hugging her asshole of an ex and treating him like he’s a good person.

There’s a squeeze on her hand and suddenly, Killian’s fingers are wrapping around hers. That’s when everything snaps back, and she realizes Neal is telling her goodbye.

“Yeah, bye,” Emma mutters, putting on that fake smile again.

“Maybe we could go for lunch while I’m still in town,” he suggests.

Emma bites her tongue to keep from scoffing, but she can’t help the words that come out of her mouth. “Yeah, that’s not happening. Have fun in New York.”

Neal looks like a wounded puppy when Emma manages to look at him, but she doesn’t care. He shouldn’t have had the audacity to ask her in the first place, not after everything he’s done.

Happy holidays to them all.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret hisses as soon as the front door has shut and Neal and Tamara are gone, “that was so rude of you! You can go to lunch with Neal.”

“Oh my God, Mom,” Emma groans, letting go of Killian’s hand and standing up. “I am twenty-eight years old. I’m not going to go to lunch with the man who ruined my life because you don’t like being rude. Just…let’s eat dinner, and you guys can tell me what we have planned for this week. Killian is thrilled to go to the play. I told him all about it.”

“Emma, I still don’t think – ”

“Come on, Mary Margaret,” David sighs as he claps his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get these two dinner. They had a long drive, and I’m sure they’re starving. You like ham, Jones?”

“Love it,” Killian says as he stands from the couch. “Can I help with anything?”

“You can get a wine bottle from the rack.”

They’re all going to need it. Or at least Emma is going to.

Dinner is, well, awkward, which Emma expected, but she expected the usual awkwardness of having dinner with her parents after going a year without seeing them. This is an entire other level. Killian tries to ease it. He’s put on his most charming smile, his accent coming through thicker with each story he tells, and while her Dad seems put out, her mom is every bit as charmed by him as Emma would expect.

That makes it all fine and good until Emma’s reminded that her parents think Killian is her boyfriend, and his place would go down in flames if she told the truth now.

As much as she would like to spite her mom, that is the last thing she needs.

“So, Killian, you can stay in Emma’s room,” her mom says as they finish up dinner. “I’d have you stay in the guest room, but it’s currently filled with props and costumes for the play. But you're both adults. Who are we to keep you apart at night?”

“The couch would be fine,” Killian insists, holding his hands up.

“Nonsense, you are a guest here. You need to be comfortable. Let’s get you all settled and ready for bed.”

It’s almost like she’s in a trance as her mom guides them up the stairs to Emma’s old room. She vaguely hears her tell stories of different pictures hung on the wall by the staircase, but she doesn’t really notice. Instead, she hangs back with her dad who does not look thrilled at the whole situation.

For some reason that offends Emma. As far as her dad knows, she’s brought a man home for Christmas. A man who she loves enough to bring home, which is not all sunshine and roses for her. Once again, she’s jealous of the people who go home for the holidays and know it’s going to be a happy time.

“You know, you don’t have to act like I’m sixteen,” she tells her dad. “I live with this man. I think it’s okay for us to share a bedroom here for the week.”

“What makes you think I’m not happy about this. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Emma stops at the landing and turns to her Dad, crossing her arms over her chest and staring him down. Or up. She forgot how much taller her dad is than her.

“Try a little harder to make that believable.”

David laughs and leans forward to kiss her forehead. “Welcome home, kid. I’m glad you and Killian are here.”

-/-

Tag list (You can be taken off or added at any time): @qualitycoffeethings @marrtinski @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @elizabeethan @jrob64 @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @inth-trees @galaxyzxstark @galadriel26 @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic @superchocovian @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @mariakov81 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @lfh1226-linda @andiirivera @itsfabianadocarmo @captain-emmajones @ilovemesomekillianjones @capthamm

#what a lie we're in #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan

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harrytheehottie · 4 years

Text

HOLD MY HAND: PART ONE

A/N: hiiii! this is my first (!!!!!) multi-part series that ive written. this story has been going through my mind for a few months now and i am equally excited and nervous to share it with y’all! just want to give a massive thank you to @for-fucks-sake-h for being the most encouraging person ever 💘 i hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think! 🥺

September 2018

Harry Styles is always smiling. In the six months I’ve been working at the recording studio everyone of my coworkers has the same story. He walks into the building with the biggest smile on his face accompanied by an equally charming “Good Morning.” Shortly after his daily arrival, his team will start funneling in always nice but never with the same amount of pep in their step.

When I first landed the job at one of the most sought after recording studios in Los Angeles, I knew I would meet my fair share of famous people. What I wasn’t ready for was the disappointment that would come with it. I work the front of the house which is a really fancy way to say I’m a receptionist. My job is to order the food, pick up the phone and be the emotional punching bag for artists and their team.

Today, I was late. I am never late. In normal circumstances this wouldn’t be a big deal. There would be someone else to let the team in and I would have a string of “I’m so sorry” texts lined up for my boss. However, today is the first day of songwriting sessions for Harry Styles and his team and I was the only one scheduled.

Fuck.

I jump out of bed and put on the same outfit that I wore the day before, a pair of baggy light wash jeans and an oversized graphic tee,

“it’s okay, this is my first time meeting these people they won’t notice.”

Fuck, it’s my first time meeting them. If the goal was to be memorable then I have won by a landslide. I quickly brush my teeth, grab the rest of my belongings, double checking that I have the keys to the building before getting into my car and head towards the studio.

For a few seconds it feels like a normal day. The clear blue skies, the LA sun and the sound of the waves crashing in the distance is all that is on my mind as I park my car along the side of the building. It isn’t until I see him, in a baby blue button down with embroidered flowers and gray wide leg trousers leaning against the table like a middle schooler whose mom is late to after school pick up.

“Sorry sorry sorry, I overslept and didn’t realize I was going to be the only person here which meant you and your crew were going to be locked out and this was going to be your first impression of me and I’m just so sorry.” I’m talking a mile a minute, you only have one chance to make a first impression and I fucking blew it.

Harry blinks twice, pushes himself off the building before starting, “Hey, you’re fine.”

“Are we waiting for more people?” I ask as I unlock the front door and head behind the front desk to turn all the lights on.

“Yeah, I told them to go find some breakfast for us in the meantime but didn’t want you showing up to an empty studio so I decided to stay back. Thought I’d be a friendlier face then one of the other guys,” Harry says, following me into the building.

I’m not really sure what he means by a friendlier face but I let the comment slide. I leave Harry in the front of the studio and head towards the different rooms, unlocking everything that they should have access to. Since this is my first time on my own I am hyper-aware of making sure everything is perfect. I open the last few rooms and head back towards the front desk. Harry is in the same position that he was in earlier but this time he’s inside and talking to someone on the phone.

I busy myself behind the desk turning on the computer glancing at the schedule and buying myself time so I didn’t have to make awkward small talk with Harry. A few minutes later, a group of guys walk into the building and exchange pleasantries with Harry before making their way over to me.

“Good morning y’all, I already apologized to Harry but just want to say I’m-” I was quickly cut off by Harry,

“No need to apologize. We’re all here now and that’s all that matters,” he says before he begins introducing the group of men behind him. “Mitch, Thomas, Tyler, this is…” He stops waiting for me to fill in the blank.

“Sofia, I’m Sofia! Nice to meet you guys, you’ll be in Studio A today and it looks like you’re the only ones on the schedule today. We have a binder filled with restaurants around the area and their full menus, there is a kitchen just down the hall to your right that has a fully stocked fridge. All of that to say, I will be at the front desk if you need help so don’t be shy.” I finish explaining the workings of the studio to the group of men who are quick to mutter their thank you’s and make their way towards Studio A.

When I first moved to LA I had a job that I hated in a career that was draining. Growing up, I did a lot of things because I thought that I had to and this shift was something that I did for myself. I have always been a fan of music and as cliche as it sounds being in the room where it happens is a feeling like no other. The conversations that flow from the different studios, the people that I see walking in and out of this building and the amount of excitement I feel when I am streaming a song and remember exactly how it came together.

It’s a few hours into the work day before one of the guys come out from the studio. I think this one was Thomas, no maybe Tyler?

“Excuse me, where is the bathroom again?” The man asks.

“Down the hall and to the left!” I enthusiastically reply before getting back to my work on the computer.

I glance over at the clock and note that it’s already about 1:30 in the afternoon. It seems like the guys are working very hard if this is the first time I have been interrupted by one of them in the past four hours. I wait for Thomas - or was it Tyler? It’s definitely not Mitch - to head back from the bathroom before inquiring about lunch.

“Hey, do you guys plan on eating out for lunch or do you want to order in? I have the menus here for every place that delivers around here or you guys can just head out.”

“Umm, let me go ask boss man.” Thomas or Tyler says before heading back into the studio.

Bossman? Now that is a choice for a nickname, I think to myself before I am interrupted by the group of men again it seems like they’re heading out for lunch which is probably the best idea because food delivery in Los Angeles will take 45 minutes on a good day.

“Have fun,” I yell out to them as I make sure I have my wallet, purse and keys for the studio before I head out for lunch on my own. I lock up the studio and head towards my car but it isn’t the only one left in the parking lot. I don’t think twice about it until Harry is standing at the driver side door of my car.

“Is everything alright?” I ask him confused as to why he isn’t at lunch with the rest of the guys.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to grab lunch with me?”

#harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #hmh #ahhhhhhhh going to run away now xx

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